I allow the justness of the poet’s exclamation on the endless projects
of human race, “Man and for ever!” The world itself probably is not
immortal. Such consuming plagues may arise as would leave even a
perfect government a weak prey to its neighbours. We know not to what
lengths enthusiasm or other extraordinary motions of the human mind
may transport men, to the neglect of all order and public good. Where
difference of interest is removed, whimsical and unaccountable factions
often arise from personal favour or enmity. Perhaps rust may grow to
the springs of the most accurate political machine and disorder
its motions. Lastly, extensive conquests, when pursued, must be the
ruin of every free government; and of the more perfect governments
sooner than of the imperfect, because of the very advantages which
the former possess above the latter. And though such a state ought
to establish a fundamental law against conquests, yet republics have
ambition as well as individuals, and present interest makes men
forgetful of their posterity. It is a sufficient incitement to human
endeavours that such a government would flourish for many ages, without
pretending to bestow on any work of man that immortality which the
Almighty seems to have refused to his own productions.
THAT POLITICS MAY BE REDUCED TO A SCIENCE.
It is a question with many whether there be any essential difference
between one form of government and another? and whether every
form may not become good or bad according as it is well or ill
administered?[113] Were it once admitted that all governments are
alike, and that the only difference consists in the character and
conduct of the governors, most political disputes would be at an end,
and all zeal for one constitution above another must be esteemed mere
bigotry and folly. But, though a friend to moderation, I cannot forbear
condemning this sentiment, and should be sorry to think that human
affairs admit of no greater stability than what they receive from the
casual humours and characters of particular men.
It is true, those who maintain that the goodness of all government
consists in the goodness of the administration, may cite many
particular instances in history where the very same government in
different hands has varied suddenly into the two opposite extremes of
good and bad. Compare the French Government under Henry III. and under
Henry IV. Oppression, levity, artifice on the part of the rulers;
faction, sedition, treachery, rebellion, disloyalty on the part of the
subjects: these compose the character of the former miserable era.
But when the patriot and heroic prince who succeeded was once firmly
seated on the throne, the government, the people, everything seemed
to be totally changed; and all from the difference of the temper and
sentiments of these two sovereigns. An equal difference of a contrary
kind may be found on comparing the reigns of Elizabeth and James—at
least with regard to foreign affairs; and instances of this kind may be
multiplied almost without number from ancient as well as modern history.
But here I would beg leave to make a distinction. All absolute
governments (and such, in a great measure, was that of England till the
middle of the last century, notwithstanding the numerous panegyrics on
ancient English liberty) must very much depend on the administration;
and this is one of the great inconveniences of that form of government.
But a republican and free government would be a most obvious absurdity
if the particular checks and controls provided by the constitution
had really no influence, and made it not the interest, even of bad
men, to operate for the public good. Such is the intention of these
forms of government, and such is their real effect where they are
wisely constituted: as, on the other hand, they are the sources of all
disorder and of the blackest crimes where either skill or honesty has
been wanting in their original frame and institution.
So great is the force of laws and of particular forms of government,
and so little dependence have they on the humours and tempers of men,
that consequences almost as general and certain may be deduced from
them on most occasions as any which the mathematical sciences
afford us.
The Roman government gave the whole legislative power to the commons,
without allowing a negative either to the nobility or consuls. This
unbounded power the commons possessed in a collective, not in a
representative body. The consequences were—when the people, by success
and conquest, had become very numerous and had spread themselves to
a great distance from the capital, the city tribes, though the most
contemptible, carried almost every vote. They were, therefore, most
cajoled by every one who affected popularity; they were supported
in idleness by the general distribution of corn, and by particular
bribes, which they received from almost every candidate. By this means
they became every day more licentious, and the Campus Martius was a
perpetual scene of tumult and sedition: armed slaves were introduced
among these rascally citizens, so that the whole government fell into
anarchy, and the greatest happiness which the Romans could look for was
the despotic power of the Cæsars. Such are the effects of democracy
without a representative.
A nobility may possess the whole or any part of the legislative power
of a state in two different ways. Either every nobleman shares the
power as part of the whole body, or the whole body enjoys the power as
composed of parts which have each a distinct power and authority. The
Venetian aristocracy is an instance of the first kind of government;
the Polish of the second. In the Venetian government the whole body of
nobility possesses the whole power, and no nobleman has any authority
which he receives not from the whole. In the Polish government every
nobleman, by means of his fiefs, has a peculiar hereditary authority
over his vassals, and the whole body has no authority but what it
receives from the concurrence of its parts. The distinct operations
and tendencies of these two species of government might be made most
apparent even _à priori_. A Venetian nobility is infinitely preferable
to a Polish, let the humours and education of men be ever so
much varied. A nobility who possess their power in common will preserve
peace and order both among themselves and their subjects, and no member
can have authority enough to control the laws for a moment. The nobles
will preserve their authority over the people, but without any grievous
tyranny or any breach of private property, because such a tyrannical
government promotes not the interest of the whole body, however it
may that of some individuals. There will be a distinction of rank
between the nobility and people, but this will be the only distinction
in the state. The whole nobility will form one body, and the whole
people another, without any of those private feuds and animosities
which spread ruin and desolation everywhere. It is easy to see the
disadvantages of a Polish nobility in every one of these particulars.
It is possible so to constitute a free government as that a single
person—call him doge, prince, or king—shall possess a very large share
of power, and shall form a proper balance or counterpoise to the other
parts of the legislature. This chief magistrate may be either elective
or hereditary, and though the former institution may, to a superficial
view, appear the most advantageous, yet a more accurate inspection will
discover in it greater inconveniences than in the latter, and such as
are founded on causes and principles eternal and immutable. The filling
of the throne in such a government is a point of too great and too
general interest not to divide the whole people into factions, from
whence a civil war, the greatest of ills, may be apprehended almost
with certainty upon every vacancy. The prince elected must be either a
foreigner or a native; the former will be ignorant of the people whom
he is to govern, suspicious of his new subjects and suspected by them,
giving his confidence entirely to strangers, who will have no other
care but of enriching themselves in the quickest manner, while their
master’s favour and authority are able to support them. A native will
carry into the throne all his private animosities and friendships,
and will never be regarded, in his elevation, without exciting the
sentiments of envy in those who formerly considered him as
their equal. Not to mention that a crown is too high a reward ever
to be given to merit alone, and will always induce the candidates
to employ force, or money, or intrigue to procure the votes of the
electors; so that such an election will give no better chance for
superior merit in the prince than if the state had trusted to birth
alone for determining their sovereign.
It may therefore be pronounced as a universal axiom in politics that
a hereditary prince, a nobility without vassals, and a people voting
by their representatives form the best monarchy, aristocracy, and
democracy. But in order to prove more fully that politics admit of
general truths which are invariable by the humour or education either
of subject or sovereign, it may not be amiss to observe some other
principles of this science which may seem to deserve that character.
It may easily be observed that though free governments have been
commonly the most happy for those who partake of their freedom, yet
are they the most ruinous and oppressive to their provinces; and this
observation may, I believe, be fixed as a maxim of the kind we are
here speaking of. When a monarch extends his dominions by conquest he
soon learns to consider his old and his new subjects as on the same
footing, because, in reality, all his subjects are to him the same,
except the few friends and favourites with whom he is personally
acquainted. He does not, therefore, make any distinction between them
in his general laws, and at the same time is no less careful to prevent
all particular acts of oppression on the one as on the other. But a
free state necessarily makes a great distinction, and must always do
so, till men learn to love their neighbours as well as themselves. The
conquerors, in such a government, are all legislators, and will be sure
so to contrive matters, by restrictions of trade and by taxes, as to
draw some private, as well as public advantage from their conquests.
Provincial governors have also a better chance in a republic to
escape with their plunder by means of bribery and interest; and their
fellow-citizens, who find their own state to be enriched by
the spoils of the subject-provinces, will be the more inclined to
tolerate such abuses. Not to mention that it is a necessary precaution
in a free state to change the governors frequently, which obliges
these temporary tyrants to be more expeditious and rapacious, that
they may accumulate sufficient wealth before they give place to their
successors. What cruel tyrants were the Romans over the world during
the time of their commonwealth! It is true they had laws to prevent
oppression in their provincial magistrates, but Cicero informs us that
the Romans could not better consult the interest of the provinces
than by repealing these very laws. “For in that case,” says he, “our
magistrates, having entire impunity, would plunder no more than would
satisfy their own rapaciousness; whereas at present they must also
satisfy that of their judges, and of all the great men of Rome whose
protection they stand in need of.” Who can read of the cruelties and
oppressions of Verres without horror and astonishment? And who is not
touched with indignation to hear that after Cicero had exhausted on
that abandoned criminal all the thunders of his eloquence, and had
prevailed so far as to get him condemned to the utmost extent of the
laws, yet that cruel tyrant lived peaceably to old age in opulence
and ease, and thirty years afterwards was put into the proscription
by Mark Anthony on account of his exorbitant wealth, where he fell,
with Cicero himself, and all the most virtuous men of Rome? After the
dissolution of the commonwealth the Roman yoke became easier upon the
provinces, as Tacitus informs us; and it may be observed that many of
the worst emperors—Domitian, for instance—were very careful to prevent
all oppression of the provinces. In Tiberius’s time Gaul was esteemed
richer than Italy itself; nor do I find during the whole time of the
Roman monarchy that the empire became less rich or populous in any
of its provinces, though indeed its valour and military discipline
were always upon the decline. The oppression and tyranny of the
Carthaginians over their subject-states in Africa went so far, as we
learn from Polybius, that, not content with exacting the half
of all the produce of the ground, which of itself was a very high rent,
they also loaded them with many other taxes. If we pass from ancient
to modern times, we shall always find the observation to hold. The
provinces of absolute monarchies are always better treated than those
of free states. Compare the _Païs conquis_ of France with Ireland, and
you will be convinced of this truth; though this latter kingdom, being
in a good measure peopled from England, possesses so many rights and
privileges as should naturally make it challenge better treatment than
that of a conquered province. Corsica is also an obvious instance to
the same purpose.
There is an observation of Machiavel, with regard to the conquests of
Alexander the Great, which I think may be regarded as one of those
eternal political truths which no time nor accidents can vary. It may
seem strange, says that politician, that such sudden conquests as
those of Alexander should be settled so peaceably by his successors,
and that the Persians, during all the confusions and civil wars of
the Greeks, never made the smallest effort towards the recovery of
their former independent government. To satisfy us concerning the
cause of this remarkable event, we may consider that a monarch may
govern his subjects in two different ways. He may either follow the
maxims of the eastern princes, and stretch his power so far as to
leave no distinction of ranks among his subjects, but what proceeds
immediately from himself—no advantages of birth; no hereditary honours
and possessions; and, in a word, no credit among the people except from
his commission alone. Or a monarch may exert his power after a milder
manner, like our European princes, and leave other sources of honour,
beside his smile and favour: birth, titles, possessions, valour,
integrity, knowledge, or great and fortunate achievements. In the
former species of government, after a conquest, it is impossible ever
to shake off the yoke, since no one possesses among the people so much
personal credit and authority as to begin such an enterprise; whereas,
in the latter, the least misfortune or discord of the victors
will encourage the vanquished to take arms, who have leaders ready to
prompt and conduct them in every undertaking.[114]
Such is the reasoning of Machiavel, which seems to me very solid and
conclusive, though I wish he had not mixed falsehood with truth in
asserting that monarchies governed according to the Eastern policy,
though more easily kept when once subdued, yet are the most difficult
to subdue, since they cannot contain any powerful subject whose
discontent and faction may facilitate the enterprises of an enemy. For
besides that such a tyrannical government enervates the courage of men
and renders them indifferent towards the fortunes of their sovereign;
besides this, I say, we find by experience that even the temporary and
delegated authority of the generals and magistrates being always, in
such governments, as absolute within its sphere as that of the prince
himself, is able, with barbarians accustomed to a blind submission, to
produce the most dangerous and fatal revolutions. So that, in every
respect, a gentle government is preferable, and gives the greatest
security to the sovereign as well as to the subject.
Legislators, therefore, ought not to trust the future government of
a state entirely to chance, but ought to provide a system of laws to
regulate the administration of public affairs to the latest posterity.
Effects will always correspond to causes, and wise regulations in any
commonwealth are the most valuable legacy which can be left to future
ages. In the smallest court or office the stated forms and methods
by which business must be conducted are found to be a considerable
check on the natural depravity of mankind. Why should not the case be
the same in public affairs? Can we ascribe the stability and wisdom
of the Venetian Government through so many ages to anything but the
form of government? And is it not easy to point out those defects in
the original constitution which produced the tumultuous governments
of Athens and Rome, and ended at last in the ruin of these two famous
republics? And so little dependence has this affair on the humours and
education of particular men that one part of the same republic may be
wisely conducted and another weakly, by the very same men, merely on
account of the difference of the forms and institutions by
which these parts are regulated. Historians inform us that this was
actually the case with Genoa; for while the state was always full of
sedition, and tumult, and disorder, the bank of St. George, which had
become a considerable part of the people, was conducted for several
ages with the utmost integrity and wisdom.
The ages of greatest public spirit are not always most eminent for
private virtue. Good laws may beget order and moderation in the
government where the manners and customs have instilled little humanity
or justice into the tempers of men. The most illustrious period of
the Roman history, considered in a political view, is that between
the beginning of the first and the end of the last Punic War; the
due balance between the nobility and people being then fixed by the
contests of the tribunes, and not being yet lost by the extent of
conquests. Yet at this very time the horrid practice of poisoning was
so common that, during part of the season, a prætor punished capitally
for this crime above three thousand persons in a part of Italy, and
found informations of this nature still multiplying upon him. There is
a similar, or rather a worse instance in the more early times of the
commonwealth; so depraved in private life were that people, whom in
their histories we so much admire. I doubt not but they were really
more virtuous during the time of the two Triumvirates, when they were
tearing their common country to pieces, and spreading slaughter and
desolation over the face of the earth merely for the choice of tyrants.
Here, then, is a sufficient inducement to maintain, with the utmost
zeal, in every free state, those forms and institutions by which
liberty is secured, the public good consulted, and the avarice or
ambition of particular men restrained and punished. Nothing does
more honour to human nature than to see it susceptible of so noble
a passion, as nothing can be a greater indication of meanness of
heart in any man than to see him devoid of it. A man who loves only
himself, without regard to friendship and merit, is a detestable
monster; and a man who is only susceptible of friendship, without
public spirit or a regard to the community, is deficient in the most
material part of virtue.
But this is a subject which needs not be longer insisted on at present.
There are enough of zealots on both sides who kindle up the passions
of their partisans, and under the pretence of public good pursue the
interests and ends of their particular faction. For my part I shall
always be more fond of promoting moderation than zeal, though perhaps
the surest way of producing moderation in every party is to increase
our zeal for the public. Let us therefore try, if it be possible, from
the foregoing doctrine to draw a lesson of moderation with regard to
the parties into which our country is at present divided; at the same
time, that we allow not this moderation to abate the industry and
passion with which every individual is bound to pursue the good of his
country.
Those who either attack or defend a minister in such a government as
ours, where the utmost liberty is allowed, always carry matters to an
extreme, and exaggerate his merit or demerit with regard to the public.
His enemies are sure to charge him with the greatest enormities, both
in domestic and foreign management, and there is no meanness or crime
of which, in their account, he is not capable. Unnecessary wars,
scandalous treaties, profusion of public treasure, oppressive taxes,
every kind of mal-administration is ascribed to him. To aggravate the
charge, his pernicious conduct, it is said, will extend its baleful
influence even to posterity, by undermining the best constitution in
the world, and disordering that wise system of laws, institutions,
and customs by which our ancestors for so many centuries have been so
happily governed. He is not only a wicked minister in himself, but has
removed every security provided against wicked ministers for the future.
On the other hand, the partisans of the minister make his panegyric run
as high as the accusation against him, and celebrate his wise, steady,
and moderate conduct in every part of his administration. The honour
and interest of the nation supported abroad, public credit
maintained at home, persecution restrained, faction subdued: the merit
of all these blessings is ascribed solely to the minister. At the same
time he crowns all his other merits by a religious care of the best
constitution in the world, which he has preserved in all its parts, and
has transmitted entire to be the happiness and security of the latest
posterity.
When this accusation and panegyric are received by the partisans of
each party, no wonder they beget a most extraordinary ferment on
both sides, and fill the nation with the most violent animosities.
But I would fain persuade these party-zealots that there is a flat
contradiction both in the accusation and panegyric, and that it were
impossible for either of them to run so high were it not for this
contradiction. If our constitution be really that noble fabric, the
pride of Britain, the envy of our neighbours, raised by the labour of
so many centuries, repaired at the expense of so many millions, and
cemented by such a profusion of blood—I say, if our constitution does
in any degree deserve these eulogies, it would never have suffered
a wicked and weak minister to govern triumphantly for a course of
twenty years, when opposed by the greatest geniuses of the nation,
who exercised the utmost liberty of tongue and pen, in Parliament
and in their frequent appeals to the people. But if the minister
be wicked and weak to the degree so strenuously insisted on, the
constitution must be faulty in its original principles, and he cannot
consistently be charged with undermining the best constitution in the
world. A constitution is only so far good as it provides a remedy
against mal-administration, and if the British constitution, when in
its greatest vigour, and repaired by two such remarkable events as
the Revolution and Accession, by which our ancient royal family was
sacrificed to it—if our constitution, I say, with so great advantages
does not, in fact, provide any such remedy, we are rather beholden
to any minister who undermines it and affords us an opportunity of
erecting in its place a better constitution.