OF THE PRINCIPLE OF PUBLIC CONSCIENCE ACCORDING TO
MONTESQUIEU--HONOR--VIRTUE.
Montesquieu has said that republics are preserved by virtue, and
monarchies by honor. He observes, moreover, that honor renders the
censors, who were required among the ancients, unnecessary among us.
True it is, that in modern times there are no censors charged with
watching over the public morals; but the cause of this is not as stated
by this famous publicist. Among Christian nations, the ministers of
religion are the natural censors of public morals. The plenitude of
this office belongs to the Church, with this difference, that the
censorial power of the ancients was purely civil, while that of the
Church is a religious power, which has its origin and sanction in
divine authority. The religion of Greece and Rome neither did, nor
could, exercise this censorial power over morals. To be convinced of
this, it is enough to read the passage from St. Augustine, quoted
in the fourteenth chapter--a passage so interesting on this matter,
that I will venture to ask the reader to peruse it again. This is the
reason why we find among the Greeks and Romans censors who are not seen
among Christian nations. These censors were an addition to the Pagan
religion, the impotence of which they clearly showed--a religion which
was mistress of society, and yet could not fulfil one of the first
duties of all religions--that of watching over the public morals. What
I assert is so perfectly true, that in proportion as the influence of
religion and the ascendency of its ministers have been lowered among
modern nations, the ancient censors have reappeared in some sort in the
institution of police. When moral means are wanting, it is necessary to
have recourse to physical ones; violence is substituted for persuasion,
and instead of a zealous and charitable missionary, delinquents fall
into the hands of the ministers of public justice.
Much has been already written of the system of Montesquieu, with
respect to the principles on which the different forms of government
are based; but perhaps sufficient attention has not been paid to
the phenomenon which has served to mislead him. As this question is
intimately connected with the point which I have just touched upon, in
relation to the existence of the censorial authority, I shall explain
myself at some length. In the time of Montesquieu, the Christian
religion was not so fully understood as it now is with respect to its
social importance; and although on this point the author of the _Esprit
des Lois_ has done homage to her, it is well to remember what were his
antichristian prejudices during his youth, and also that this work is
still far from rendering to the true religion what is due to her. The
ideas of an irreligious philosophy which, some years later, misled so
many fine intellects, had begun at that time to gain the ascendant,
and Montesquieu had not sufficient strength of mind to make a decided
opposition to the prejudices which threatened universal dominion. To
this cause we must add another, which, although distinct from the last,
yet had the same origin, viz. a prejudice in favor of all that was old,
and a blind admiration for every thing Roman or Grecian. It seemed to
the philosophers of that time, that social and political perfection
had reached their greatest height among the ancients, that there was
nothing to be added to or taken from it, and that even in religion the
fables and festivals of antiquity were a thousand times preferable to
the faith and worship of the Christian religion. In the eyes of the
new philosophers, the heaven of the Apocalypse could not sustain a
comparison with that of the Elysian fields; the majesty of Jehovah was
inferior to that of Jupiter; all the loftiest Christian institutions
were a legacy of ignorance and fanaticism; the most holy and beneficent
institutions were the work of tortuous and interested views--the
vehicle and expression of sordid interests; public authority was
only an atrocious tyranny; and the only noble, just, and salutary
institutions were those of Paganism. There every thing was wise, and
evinced profound designs highly advantageous to society; the ancients
alone had enjoyed social advantages, and had succeeded in organizing
public authority, with guarantees for the liberty of citizens. Modern
nations should bitterly lament not being able to mingle in the
agitation of the forum, being deprived of such orators as Demosthenes
and Cicero,--having no Olympic games, or contests of athletæ; in fine,
they must always regret a religion which, although full of illusion
and falsehood, gave to all nature a dramatic interest, gave life to
fountains, rivers, cascades, and seas, peopled the fields, the meadows,
and the woods with beautiful nymphs, gave to man gods as the companions
of his hearth, and above all, knew how to render life pleasant and
charming, by giving full scope to all the passions, and deifying them
under the most enchanting forms.
How, in the midst of such prejudices, was it possible to discover the
truth in modern institutions? Every thing was in the most deplorable
state of confusion; all that was established was condemned without
appeal, and every one who attempted to defend it was considered a fool
or a knave. Religion and political constitutions, which seemed destined
soon to disappear, could reckon on no other support than the prejudices
or the interests of governments. Lamentable aberration of the human
mind! What would these writers now say if they could arise from their
tombs? And yet a century has not yet elapsed since the epoch when their
school began to acquire its influence. They have, for a long time,
ruled the world at their pleasure; and they have only shed torrents of
blood, heaping lesson upon lesson, and deception upon deception, in the
history of humanity.
But let us return to Montesquieu. This publicist, who was so much
affected by the atmosphere in which he lived, and who had no small
share in perverting the age, saw the facts which are here so apparent;
he recognised the results of that public opinion which has been
created among European nations by the influence of Christianity. But
while observing the effects, he did not ascertain the real causes,
and labored in every way to accommodate them to his own system. In
comparing ancient with modern society, he discovered between them a
remarkable difference in the conduct of men; he observed that we see
accomplished among us the noblest and most heroic actions, while we
avoid a great part of the vices which defile the ancients; but, on the
other hand, Montesquieu, like others, could not help seeing that men
among us have not always that high moral aim which ought to be the
motive of their laudable conduct. Avarice, ambition, love of pleasure,
and other passions, still reign in the world, and are easily discovered
everywhere. Still these passions do not reach the excess they did among
the ancients; there is a mysterious power which restrains them; before
giving way to their impulses, they throw a cautious glance around
them, and do not indulge in certain excesses unless they are sure of
being able to do so in secret. They have great dread of being seen by
man; they can only live in solitude and darkness. The author of the
_Esprit des Lois_ asked himself what is the cause of this phenomenon.
Men, he said to himself, often act, not from moral virtue, but from
respect for the judgment which other men will pass upon their actions;
this is to act from honor. Now, this is the case in France and in the
other monarchies of Europe; it must be, therefore, the distinctive
characteristic of monarchical governments; it must be the base of that
form of government, the distinction between a republic and despotism.
Let us hear the author himself: "Dans quel governement," says he,
"faut il des censeurs? Il en faut dans une république, où le principe
du governement est la vertu. Ce ne sont pas seulement les crimes qui
detruisent la vertu, mais encore les negligences, les fautes, une
certaine tiédeur dans l'amour de la patrie, des exemples dangereux,
des semences de corruption; ce qui ne choque point les lois, mais les
élude; ce qui ne les détruit pas, mais les affaiblit. Tout cela doit
être corrigé par les censeurs. * * * Dans les monarchies il ne faut
point de censeurs, elles sont fondées sur l'honneur; et la nature de
l'honneur est d'avoir pour censeur tout l'univers. Tout homme qui y
manque est soumis aux reproches de ceux mêmes qui n'en ont point."
(_De l'Esprit des Lois_, liv. v. chap. 19.) Such is the opinion of
this publicist. But if we reflect on the matter, we shall see that
he was wrong in transferring to politics, and explaining by simply
political causes, a fact purely social. Montesquieu points out, as
the distinguishing characteristic of monarchies, what is the general
characteristic of all modern European society; he seems not to have
understood why the institution of censors was not necessary in Europe,
any more than he did the real reason why they were required among the
ancients. Monarchical forms have not exclusively prevailed in Europe.
Powerful republics have existed there; and there are still some not to
be despised. Monarchy itself has undergone numerous modifications; it
has been allied sometimes with democracy, sometimes with aristocracy;
sometimes its power has been very limited, and sometimes it has been
unbounded; and yet we always find this restraint which Montesquieu
speaks of, and which he calls honor; that is, a powerful influence
stimulating to good deeds and deterring from bad, and all this from
respect for the judgments which other men will pass.
"Dans les monarchies," says Montesquieu, "il ne faut point de censeurs,
elles sont fondées sur l'honneur; et la nature de l'honneur est d'avoir
pour censeur tout l'univers;" remarkable words, which reveal to us the
ideas of the writer, and at the same time show us the origin of his
mistake. They will assist us in solving the enigma. In order to explain
this point as fully as the importance of the subject requires, and
with as much clearness as the multitude and intricacy of its relations
demand, I shall endeavour to convey my ideas with as much precision as
possible.
Respect for the judgment of others is a feeling innate in man;
consequently it is in his nature to do or avoid many things on account
of this judgment. All this is founded on the simple fact of self-love:
this is nothing but love of our own good fame, the desire of appearing
to advantage, and the fear of appearing to disadvantage, in the eyes
of our fellows. These things are so simple and clear, that they do
not require or even admit of proofs or comments. Honor is a stimulant
more or less active, or a restraint more or less powerful, according
to the degree of severity which we expect in the judgments of others.
Thus it is that the miser, when among the generous, makes an effort to
appear liberal; the prodigal restrains himself in the presence of the
lovers of strict economy; in meetings where decorum generally reigns we
see that even libertines control themselves, while men whose manners
are usually correct allow themselves certain freedoms in licentious
societies. Now the society in which we live is, as it were, one vast
company. If we know that strict principles prevail there, if we hear
everywhere proclaimed the rules of sound morality, if we think that the
generality of the men with whom we live give the right name to every
action, without allowing the irregularity of their conduct to falsify
their judgment, we see ourselves surrounded on all sides by witnesses
and judges who cannot be corrupted; and this checks us at every step
when we wish to do evil, and urges us on when we wish to do good. It
will be far otherwise if we have reason to expect indulgence from
the society in which we move. In this case, and supposing us all to
entertain the same convictions, vice will not appear to us so horrible,
crime so detestable, or corruption so disgusting; our ideas with regard
to the morality of our conduct will be very different, and in the end
our actions will show the fatal influence of the atmosphere in which we
live. It follows from this, that, in order to infuse into our hearts a
feeling of honor strong enough to produce good, it is necessary that
principles of sound morality should regulate society, and that they
should be generally and fully believed. This being granted, social
habits will be formed, which will regulate manners; and even if these
habits do not succeed in hindering the corruption of a great number of
individuals, they will, nevertheless, be sufficient to compel vice to
adopt certain disguises, which, although hypocritical, will not fail
to add to the decorum of manners. The salutary effects of these habits
will still continue after the faith on which their moral principles are
based has been considerably weakened, and society will still gather in
abundance the beneficent fruits of the despised or forgotten tree. This
is the history of the morality of modern nations: although lamentably
corrupt, they are still not so bad as the ancients. They preserve in
their legislation, and in their morals, a fund of morality and dignity
which the ravages of irreligion have not been able to destroy. Public
opinion never dies; every day it censures vice, and extols the beauty
and advantages of virtue; it reigns over governments and nations,
and exercises the powerful ascendency of an element which is found
universally diffused.
"Outre l'Aréopage," says Montesquieu, "il y avait à Athènes des
gardiens des mœurs et des gardiens des lois. A Lacédémone, tous les
vieillards étaient censeurs. A Rome, deux magistrats particuliers
avaient la censure. Comme le Senat veille sur le peuple, il faut que
des censeurs aient les yeux sur le peuple et sur le Senat. Il faut
qu'ils rétablissent dans la république tout ce qui a été corrompu,
qu'ils notent la tiédeur, jugent les négligences, et corrigent les
fautes, comme les lois punissent les crimes." (_De l'Esprit des Lois_,
liv. v. chap. 7.) In describing the duties of the censors of antiquity,
the author seems to state the functions of religious authority. To
penetrate where the civil laws do not extend; to correct, and in some
measure to chastise, what they leave unpunished; to exercise over
society an influence more delicate and minute than that which belongs
to legislation,--such are the objects of the censorial power; and who
does not see that that power has been replaced by religious authority?
and that if the former has been unnecessary among modern nations, it is
owing to the existence of the latter, or to the influence which it has
exercised for many centuries?
It cannot be denied that religious authority has for a long time
gained a decided ascendency over men's minds and hearts; this fact is
written in every page of the history of Europe. As to the results of
that influence, so calumniated and ill understood, we meet with them
every day,--we who see the principles of justice and sound morality
still reigning over public conscience, in spite of the ravages which
irreligion and immorality have committed among individuals.
The powerful influence of public conscience will be best explained
by some examples. Let us suppose that the richest of nobles, or the
most powerful of monarchs, indulged in the abominable excesses of a
Tiberius, a Nero, or the other monsters who disgraced the imperial
throne, what would happen? We will not predict; but we are confident
that the universal shout of indignation and horror would be so
loud, and the monster would be so crushed under the load of public
execration, that it appears to us impossible for him to exist. It seems
to us an anachronism, an impossibility at this time. Even if we admit
that there might be men immoral enough to commit such enormities,
sufficiently perverted in mind and heart to exhibit such depravity,
we see that it would be an outrage against universal morals, and that
such a spectacle could not stand for a moment in presence of public
opinion. I could draw numberless contrasts, but I shall content myself
with one, which, while it reminds us of a fine trait in ancient
history, exhibits, with the virtue of a hero, the manners of the
time and the melancholy condition of the public conscience. Let us
suppose that a general of modern Europe captures by assault a town in
which a distinguished lady, the wife of one of the principal leaders
of the enemy, falls into the hands of the soldiers. The beautiful
prisoner is brought to the general; what should be his conduct? Every
one will immediately say, that she ought to be treated with the most
delicate attention, that she ought to be immediately set at liberty
and allowed to rejoin her husband. Such conduct appears to us so
strictly obligatory, so much according to the order of things, and so
conformable to our ideas and sentiments, that there certainly does
not appear to us to be any peculiar merit in adopting it. We should
say that the general had performed a strict and sacred duty, which he
could not evade without covering himself with shame and ignominy. We
certainly should not immortalize such an action in history; we should
allow it to pass unnoticed in the ordinary course of events. Now,
this is what Scipio did with respect to the wife of Mardonius at the
taking of Carthagena; and ancient history records this generosity as
an eternal monument of his virtues. This parallel explains better than
any commentary the immense progress of morality and public conscience
under the influence of Christianity. Now, such conduct, which among
us is considered as simple, natural, and strictly obligatory, does
not flow from the honor belonging to monarchies, as Montesquieu
asserts, but from more lofty notions of human dignity, from a clearer
knowledge of the true state of society, from a morality the purer
and more powerful because it is established on eternal foundations.
This, indeed, is found and felt everywhere, it governs the good and
is respected even by the bad; this is what would stop the licentious
man, who, in a case of this sort, would be inclined to indulge his
cruelty or his other passions. The author of the _Esprit des Lois_
would doubtless have perceived these truths if he had not been
prejudiced by the favorite distinction established at the beginning of
his work, and which throughout bound him to an inflexible system. We
know what a preconceived system is--one that serves as the mould for
a work. Like the bed of Procrustus, ideas and facts, right or wrong,
are accommodated to the system; what is too much is taken away, and
what is wanting is added. Thus Montesquieu finds in political motives,
founded on the republican form of government, the reason for the power
exercised over Roman women by their husbands. The cruel rights given to
fathers over their children, the unlimited paternal power established
by the Roman laws, also appeared to him to flow from political causes,
as if it were not evident that these two regulations of the ancient
Roman law were owing to causes purely domestic and social, altogether
independent of the form of government.[19]