reason, has established in man a second nature in order to show her
wide-spread influence. She makes men happy and miserable, sound and
sick, rich and poor; she obliges reason to believe, doubt and deny;
she dulls the senses, or sharpens them; she has her fools and wise;
and nothing vexes us more than to see that she fills her votaries
with a satisfaction far more full and entire than does reason. Those
whose imagination is active feel greater complacency than the truly
wise can reasonably allow themselves to feel. They look down on
other men as from the height of empire, they argue with assurance
and confidence, others with diffidence and fear, and this gaiety
of countenance often gives the former an advantage in the minds of
their hearers; such favour do the imaginary wise find from judges
like-minded. Imagination cannot make fools wise, but it makes them
content, and so triumphs over reason, which can only make its friends
miserable; the one covers them with glory, the other with shame.
What but this faculty of imagination dispenses reputation, assigns
respect and veneration to persons, works, laws, and the great? How
valueless are all the treasures of earth without her consent!
You would say that this magistrate whose reverend age commands the
respect of a whole people is swayed by pure and lofty reason, that he
judges all causes according to their true nature, unmoved by those
mere accidents which only affect the imagination of the weak. See him
go to sermon with devout zeal, strengthening his firm and impartial
reason by the ardour of his divine love. He is ready to listen with
exemplary respect. The preacher appears; but if nature have given him
a hoarse voice or a comic face, if his barber have shaven him ill, or
if his clothes be splashed more than is wont, then however great the
truths he announces, I wager that our statesman lose his gravity.
Set the greatest philosopher in the world on a plank really wider
than he needs, but hanging over a precipice, and though reason
convince him of his security, imagination will prevail. Many will
scarce bear the thought without a cold sweat.
I will not name all its effects. Every one knows that the sight of
cats, and rats, or the crushing of a coal, etc., may quite unhinge
the reason. The tone of voice will affect the wisest and change the
whole force of a speech or a poem.
Love or hate will change the aspect of justice, and an advocate
retained with a large fee has an increased confidence in the right
of the cause he pleads, while the assurance of his demeanour commends
it to the judges, duped in their turn by appearances. How ridiculous
is reason, swayed by a breath in every direction!
I should have to enumerate almost every action of men who seldom
stagger but under her shocks. For reason has been forced to yield,
and the wisest reason accepts as her own those principles which the
imagination of men has everywhere casually introduced.
Our magistrates are well aware of this mystery. Their scarlet robes,
the ermine in which they wrap themselves like furred cats, the halls
in which they administer justice, the _fleurs-de-lis_, and all their
august apparatus are most necessary; if the doctors had not their
cassocks and their mules, if the lawyers had not their square caps,
and their robes four times too wide, they would never have duped the
world, which cannot resist so authoritative an appearance. Soldiers
alone are not disguised after this fashion, because indeed their part
is the more essential, they establish themselves by force, the others
by fraud.
So our kings seek out no disguises. They do not mask themselves in
strange garments to appear such, but they are accompanied by guards
and halberdiers. Those armed puppets who have hands and power for
them alone, those trumpets and drums which go before them, and those
legions round about them, make the firmest tremble. They have not
dress only, but power; we need an highly refined reason to regard as
an ordinary man the Grand Turk, in his superb seraglio, surrounded
with forty thousand janissaries.
We cannot even see an advocate in his long robe and with his cap on
his head, without an enhanced opinion of his ability.
If magistrates had true justice, and if doctors had the true art of
healing, they would have no need of square caps, the majesty of these
sciences were of itself venerable enough. But having only imaginary
knowledge, they must take these instruments, idle, but striking to
the imagination with which they have to deal, and by that in fact
they gain respect.
Imagination is the disposer of all things, it creates beauty, justice
and happiness, and these are the world's all. I should much like to
see an Italian work, of which I know the title only, but such a title
is worth many books: _Della opinione Regina del mondo_. I accept the
book without knowing it, save the evil in it, if there be any.
These are for the most part the effects of that deceptive faculty,
which seems to have been given us expressly to lead us into necessary
error. Of error however we have many other sources.
Not only are old impressions capable of deceiving us, the charms of
novelty have the same power. Hence arise all the disputes of men,
who charge each other either with following the false impressions
of childhood or of running rashly after new. Who rightly keeps a
middle way? Let him appear and make good his pretensions. There is
no principle, however natural to us even from childhood, which may
not be made to pass for a false impression either of education or of
sense.
"Because," say some, "you have believed from childhood that a box
was empty when you saw nothing in it, you have therefore believed
the possibility of a vacuum. This is an illusion of your senses,
strengthened by custom, which science must correct." "Because," say
others, "you were taught at school that there is no such thing as
a vacuum, your common sense, which clearly comprehended the matter
before, is corrupted, and you must correct this false impression by
returning to your primitive nature." Which has deceived you, your
senses or your education?
Diseases are another source of error. They impair our judgment and
our senses, and if the more violent produce a sensible change, I
do not doubt that slighter ailments produce each its proportionate
impression.
Our own interest is again a wonderful instrument for putting out our
eyes in a pleasant way. The man of greatest probity can not be judge
in his own cause; I know some who that they may not fall into this
self love are, out of opposition, thoroughly unjust. The certain way
of ruining a just cause has been to get it recommended to these men
by their near relatives.
Justice and truth are two such subtle points, that our instruments
are too blunt to touch them accurately. If they attain the point
they cover it so completely that they rest more often on the wrong
than the right.
There is internecine war in man between the reason and the passions.
If he had only reason without passions....
If he had only passions without reason....
But having both he must have continual strife, since he cannot be at
peace with one unless he be at war with the other. Hence he is always
divided against and contrary to himself.
The habit of seeing kings accompanied by guards, drums, officers
and all those things which mechanically incline man to respect and
terror, causes their countenance, when now and then seen alone, and
without these accompaniments, to impress respect and terror on their
subjects, because our thought cannot separate their personality from
those surroundings with which it is ordinarily joined. And the world
which does not know that the effect arises from habit, believes that
it arises from natural force, and hence come such expressions as:
"The character of Divinity is imprinted on his countenance," etc.
The power of kings is based both on the reason and the folly of the
people, and mainly on their folly. The greatest and most important
matter in the world has weakness for its foundation, and this
foundation is admirably sure, for there is nothing more sure than
this, that the people will be weak. What is founded on sound reason
is very ill founded, as the value of wisdom.
The chancellor is grave, and clothed with ornaments, for his position
is unreal. Not so the king, he has power and nothing to do with
imagination. Judges, doctors, etc., depend solely on imagination.
Empire founded on opinion and imagination lasts some time, the rule
is gentle and willingly accepted; that founded on power lasts for
ever. Thus opinion is, as it were, queen of the world, but power is
its tyrant.
Power is the queen of the world, not opinion, but opinion makes use
of power.
Power creates opinion. Gentleness is beautiful, as we think. Why?
Because he who goes to extremes will be alone, and I will make a
stronger cabal of people who will say it is inexpedient.
The cords attached by the respect of man for man, are, for the most
part, cords of necessity, for there must be different degrees, all
men wishing to rule, but not all being able to do so, though some are
able.
Let us suppose then we see men beginning to form a society. They will
no doubt fight till the stronger party gets the better of the weaker,
and a dominant party is constituted. But so soon as this is once
settled, the masters not wishing that the strife should continue,
declare that the power in their hands shall be transmitted as they
please, some placing it in the choice of the people, others in the
succession of birth, etc.
And here imagination begins to play her part. Till now power has
constrained facts, now power is upheld by imagination in a certain
party, in France that of the nobles, in Switzerland that of the
burgesses, etc.
The cords therefore which bind the respect of men to any given man
are the cords of imagination.
Our imagination so enlarges the present by dint of continually
reflecting on it, and so contracts eternity, by never reflecting on
it, that we make a nothing of eternity and an eternity of nothing;
and all this has such living roots in us, that all our reason cannot
suppress them, and that....
The imagination enlarges little objects so as to fill our soul with
its fantastic estimate, and by a rash insolence belittles the great
to its own measure, as when it speaks of God.
Things which have the greatest hold on us, as the concealing
our small possessions, are often a mere nothing. It is a nothing
which our imagination magnifies into a mountain, another turn of
imagination would make us discover its nothingness without difficulty.
Two faces which resemble each other, neither of which alone causes
our laughter, make us laugh, when together, by their resemblance.
Children who are frightened at the face they have daubed are mere
children, but how shall one who is so weak when a child grow truly
strong as he grows old? We only change our fancies.
All that is brought to perfection by progress perishes also by
progress. All that has been weak can never be absolutely strong. It
is in vain to say, "He has grown, he has changed." He is also the
same.
My fancy makes me hate a man who breathes hard when he is eating.
Fancy has great weight. Will you profit by yielding to this weight
because it is natural? No; but by resisting it.
_Prejudice leading into error._--It is a deplorable thing to see all
men deliberating on means alone, and not on the end. Every man thinks
how he may acquit himself in his condition, but as for the choice of
condition or of country, chance gives them to us.
It is a pitiable thing, to see so many Turks, heretics and infidels,
follow the way of their fathers for the simple reason that each has
been told it is the best. And that fixes for each man his condition,
locksmith, soldier, etc.
Therefore savages would care nothing for Provence.
_Ferox gens, nullam esse vitam sine armis rati._ They love death
rather than peace, other men love death rather than war.
Every opinion may be held in preference to life, of which the love
seems so strong and so natural.
_Thoughts._--All is one, all is diverse. How many natures in that of
man, how many vocations! And by what a chance does each man take
ordinarily what he has heard praised. A well turned heel.
_The heel of a slipper._--How well this is turned, here is a clever
workman, how brave is this soldier! Such is the source of our
inclinations and of the choice of conditions. How much this man
drinks, how little that man! That is what makes men sober or drunken,
soldiers, cowards, etc.
_Glory._--Admiration spoils everything from infancy. How well said,
how well done, how clever he is! etc.
The children of Port Royal, who are not urged with this spur of envy
and glory, become careless.
_Glory._--The brutes have no admiration for each other. A horse does
not admire his companion. Not but that they have their rivalries in
a race, but that entails no consequences, for once in the stable the
heaviest and most ill-formed does not yield his oats to another,
as men would expect from others in their own case. Their virtue is
satisfied with itself.
First degree: to be blamed for doing evil, and praised for doing
good. Second degree: to be neither praised nor blamed.
Brave deeds are most estimable when hidden. When I see some of these
in history they please me much. But after all they have not been
wholly hidden, since they have become known. And though all has been
done to hide them that could be done, the little whereby they have
appeared has spoiled all, for what was finest in them was the desire
to hide them.
We are not content with the life we have in ourselves and in our
own being, we wish to live an imaginary life in the idea of others,
and to this end we strive to make a show. We labour incessantly to
embellish and preserve this imaginary being, and we neglect the true.
And if we have either calmness, generosity, or fidelity, we hasten to
let it be known, that we may attach these virtues to that imaginary
being; we would even part with them for this end, and gladly become
cowards for the reputation of valour. It is a great mark of the
nothingness of our own being that we are not satisfied with the one
without the other, and that we often renounce one for the other. For
he would be infamous who would not die to preserve his honour.
_Vocations._--The sweetness of glory is so great that join it to what
we will, even to death, we love it.
Evil is easy, and its forms are infinite; good is almost unique. But
a certain kind of evil is as difficult to find as what is called
good; and often on this account this particular kind of evil gets
passed off as good. There is even needed an extraordinary greatness
of soul to attain to it as well as to good.
We are so presumptuous that we would fain be known by the whole
world, even by those who shall come after, when we are no more. And
we are such triflers that the esteem of five or six persons about us
diverts and contents us.
Vanity is so anchored in the heart of man that a soldier, a
camp-follower, a cook, a porter makes his boasts, and is for having
his admirers; even philosophers wish for them. Those who write
against it, yet desire the glory of having written well, those who
read, desire the glory of having read; I who write this have, may be,
this desire, and perhaps those who will read it....
In towns through which we pass we care not whether men esteem us, but
we do care if we have to live there any time. How long is needed? A
time in proportion to our vain and fleeting life.
The condition of man; inconstancy, weariness, unrest.
Whoever will know fully the vanity of man has but to consider the
causes and the effects of love. The cause is an unknown quantity, and
the effects are terrible. This unknown quantity, so small a matter
that we cannot recognise it, moves a whole country, princes, armies,
and all the world.
Cleopatra's nose: had it been shorter, the face of the world had been
changed.
Nothing better shows the frivolity of men than to consider what are
the causes and what the effects of love, for all the universe is
changed by them. Cleopatra's nose.
_Frivolity._--The cause and the effects of love. Cleopatra.
Pride is a counterpoise, and turns the scale against all woes. Here
is a strange monster, a very visible aberration. Behold him fallen
from his place, and anxiously seeking it. That is what all men do.
Let us see who has found it.
_Contradiction._--Pride is a counterpoise to all miseries. Man either
conceals them, or if he display them, glories in the knowledge of
them.
_Of the desire of being esteemed by those with whom we are._--Pride
has a natural possession of us in the midst of our miseries, errors,
etc. We can even lose our life with joy, if men will but talk of it.
Vanity, play, hunting, visiting, false pretences, a lasting name.
_Pride._--Curiosity is mere frivolity. For the most part we want to
know only for the sake of talking. People would not make voyages if
they were never to speak of them, for the sole pleasure of seeing,
without hope of ever communicating their impressions.
_OF JUSTICE, CUSTOMS, AND PREJUDICES._
On what shall man found the economy of the world which he would
fain govern? If on the caprice of each man, all is confusion. If on
justice, man is ignorant of it.
Certainly had he known it, he would not have established the maxim,
most general of all current among men, that every one must conform to
the manners of his own country; the splendour of true equity would
have brought all nations into subjection, and legislators would not
have taken as their model the fancies and caprice of Persians and
Germans instead of stable justice. We should have seen it established
in all the States of the world, in all times, whereas now we see
neither justice nor injustice which does not change its quality
upon changing its climate. Three degrees of latitude reverse all
jurisprudence, a meridian decides what is truth, fundamental laws
change after a few years of possession, right has its epochs, the
entrance of Saturn into the Lion marks for us the origin of such and
such a crime. That is droll justice which is bounded by a stream!
Truth on this side of the Pyrenees, error on that.
It is admitted that justice is not in these customs, but that it
resides in natural laws common to every country. This would no
doubt be maintained with obstinacy if the rash chance which has
disseminated human laws had lighted upon even one that is universal,
but the singularity of the matter is that owing to the vagaries of
human caprice there is not one.
Theft, incest, infanticide, parricide, all have found a place among
virtuous actions. Can there be any thing more absurd than that a
man should have the right to kill me because he lives across the
water, and because his prince has a quarrel with mine, although I
have none with him? There are no doubt natural laws, but fair reason
once corrupted has corrupted all. _Nihil amplius nostrum est; quod
nostrum dicimus, artis est. Ex senatus consultis, et plebiscitis
crimina exercentur. Ut olim vitiis, sic nunc legibus laboramus_.
From this confusion it results that one declares the essence
of justice to be the authority of the legislator, another, the
convenience of the sovereign, another, existing custom, and this is
the most sure; nothing which follows reason alone is just in itself,
all shifts and changes with time; custom creates equity, by the
simple reason that this is received. It is the mystical foundation
of its authority, whoever carries it back to first principles
annihilates it. Nothing is so faulty as those laws which correct
faults. Whoever obeys them because they are just, obeys an imaginary
justice, not law in its essence; it is altogether self-contained, it
is law and nothing more. Whoever will examine its motive will find
it so feeble and so slight that if he be not used to contemplate the
marvels of human imagination, he will wonder that a single century
has gained for it so much pomp and reverence. It is the art of
disturbance and of revolution to shake established customs, sounding
them to their source, to mark their want of authority and justice. We
must, it is said, return to the primitive and fundamental laws of the
State, abolished by unjust custom. It is a game wherein we are sure
to lose all; in this balance nothing would be true, yet the people
easily lends an ear to such talk as this. They shake off the yoke as
soon as they recognise it, and the great profit by its ruin, and by
the ruin of those who have too curiously examined recognised customs.
This is why the wisest of law givers said that it was often necessary
to cheat men for their good, and another, a good politician, _Quum
veritatem qua liberetur ignoret, expedit quod fallatur_. We ought not
to feel the truth that law is but usurpation; it was once introduced
without reason, and has become reasonable; it is necessary to cause
it to be regarded as eternal and authoritative, and to conceal the
beginning if we do not wish it should soon come to an end.
I have passed much of my life believing that justice existed, and in
this I did not deceive myself, for there is justice according as God
has willed to reveal it to us. But I did not take it so, and in that
I deceived myself, for I believed that our justice was essentially
just, and that I had that whereby I was able to know and judge of
it. But I so often find that my right judgment was at fault, that at
last I have begun to distrust myself, and then others. I saw in all
countries that men change, and thus after many changes of judgment
concerning true justice, I recognised that our nature was a continual
change, and I have not changed since; were I to change I should but
strengthen my opinion. The sceptic Archesilas became a dogmatist.
The most unreasonable things in the world become most reasonable,
because of the unruly lives of men. What is less reasonable than to
choose the eldest son of a queen to guide a state? for we do not
choose as steersman of a ship that one of the passengers who is of
the best family. Such a law would be ridiculous and unjust; but since
they are so themselves, and ever will be, it becomes reasonable and
just. For would they choose the most virtuous and able, we at once
fall to blows, since each asserts that he is the most virtuous and
able. Let us then affix this quality to something which cannot be
disputed. This man is the king's eldest son. That is clear, and there
is no dispute. Reason can do no better, for civil war is the worst of
evils.
Men of unruly lives assert that they alone follow nature, while those
who are orderly stray from her paths; as passengers in a ship think
that those move who stand upon the shore. Both sides say the same
thing. There must be a fixed point to enable us to judge. The harbour
decides the question for those who are in the vessel, but where can
we find the harbour in morals?
When all moves equally, nothing seems to move, as in a ship. When all
tend to vice, none appears to do so. Whoever stops draws attention to
the onward movement of others, as does a fixed point.
Justice is what is established, and thus all our established laws are
necessarily held to be just without being examined, because they are
established.
_Justice._--As fashion makes what is agreeable, so it makes what is
just.
Our natural principles are but principles of custom. In children
natural principles are those which they have received from the habits
of their fathers, as hunting in animals.
A different custom will produce different natural principles. This
experience testifies, and if there are some natural principles
ineradicable by custom, so are there some customs opposed to nature
ineradicable by nature, or by a second custom. This depends on
constitution.
Fathers fear that the natural love of their children may be effaced.
Now what sort of thing is that nature which is liable to be effaced.
Custom is a second nature which destroys the former. But what is
nature, for is not custom natural? I am greatly afraid that nature
itself may be only our first custom, as custom is second nature.