Public-domain original
CHAPTER I
GOVERNMENT IN GENERAL
I warn the reader that this chapter requires careful reading, and that
I am unable to make myself clear to those who refuse to be attentive.
Every free action is produced by the concurrence of two causes; one
moral, i.e. the will which determines the act; the other physical,
i.e. the power which executes it. When I walk towards an object, it
is necessary first that I should will to go there, and, in the second
place, that my feet should carry me. If a paralytic wills to run and
an active man wills not to, they will both stay where they are. The
body politic has the same motive powers; here too force and will are
distinguished, will under the name of legislative power and force under
that of executive power. Without their concurrence, nothing is, or
should be, done.
We have seen that the legislative power belongs to the people, and can
belong to it alone. It may, on the other hand, readily be seen, from
the principles laid down above, that the executive power cannot belong
to the generality as legislature or Sovereign, because it consists
wholly of particular acts which fall outside the competency of the law,
and consequently of the Sovereign, whose acts must always be laws.
The public force therefore needs an agent of its own to bind it
together and set it to work under the direction of the general will, to
serve as a means of communication between the State and the Sovereign,
and to do for the collective person more or less what the union of soul
and body does for man. Here we have what is, in the State, the basis of
government, often wrongly confused with the Sovereign, whose minister
it is.
What then is government? An intermediate body set up between the
subjects and the Sovereign, to secure their mutual correspondence,
charged with the execution of the laws and the maintenance of liberty,
both civil and political.
The members of this body are called magistrates or kings, that is to
say governors, and the whole body bears the name prince. Thus
those who hold that the act, by which a people puts itself under a
prince, is not a contract, are certainly right. It is simply and solely
a commission, an employment, in which the rulers, mere officials of the
Sovereign, exercise in their own name the power of which it makes them
depositaries. This power it can limit, modify or recover at pleasure;
for the alienation of such a right is incompatible with the nature of
the social body, and contrary to the end of association.
I call then government, or supreme administration, the legitimate
exercise of the executive power, and prince or magistrate the man or
the body entrusted with that administration.
In government reside the intermediate forces whose relations make up
that of the whole to the whole, or of the Sovereign to the State. This
last relation may be represented as that between the extreme terms of a
continuous proportion, which has government as its mean proportional.
The government gets from the Sovereign the orders it gives the people,
and, for the State to be properly balanced, there must, when everything
is reckoned in, be equality between the product or power of the
government taken in itself, and the product or power of the citizens,
who are on the one hand sovereign and on the other subject.
Furthermore, none of these three terms can be altered without the
equality being instantly destroyed. If the Sovereign desires to govern,
or the magistrate to give laws, or if the subjects refuse to obey,
disorder takes the place of regularity, force and will no longer act
together, and the State is dissolved and falls into despotism or
anarchy. Lastly, as there is only one mean proportional between each
relation, there is also only one good government possible for a State.
But, as countless events may change the relations of a people, not only
may different governments be good for different peoples, but also for
the same people at different times.
In attempting to give some idea of the various relations that may hold
between these two extreme terms, I shall take as an example the number
of a people, which is the most easily expressible.
Suppose the State is composed of ten thousand citizens. The Sovereign
can only be considered collectively and as a body; but each member, as
being a subject, is regarded as an individual: thus the Sovereign is
to the subject as ten thousand to one, i.e. each member of the State
has as his share only a ten-thousandth part of the sovereign authority,
although he is wholly under its control. If the people numbers a
hundred thousand, the condition of the subject undergoes no change,
and each equally is under the whole authority of the laws, while his
vote, being reduced to one hundred thousandth part, has ten times less
influence in drawing them up. The subject therefore remaining always
a unit, the relation between him and the Sovereign increases with the
number of the citizens. From this it follows that, the larger the
State, the less the liberty.
When I say the relation increases, I mean that it grows more unequal.
Thus the greater it is in the geometrical sense, the less relation
there is in the ordinary sense of the word. In the former sense,
the relation, considered according to quantity, is expressed by the
quotient; in the latter, considered according to identity, it is
reckoned by similarity.
Now, the less relation the particular wills have to the general will,
that is, morals and manners to laws, the more should the repressive
force be increased. The government, then, to be good, should be
proportionately stronger as the people is more numerous.
On the other hand, as the growth of the State gives the depositaries
of the public authority more temptations and chances of abusing their
power, the greater the force with which the government ought to be
endowed for keeping the people in hand, the greater too should be the
force at the disposal of the Sovereign for keeping the government in
hand. I am speaking, not of absolute force, but of the relative force
of the different parts of the State.
It follows from this double relation that the continuous proportion
between the Sovereign, the prince and the people, is by no means an
arbitrary idea, but a necessary consequence of the nature of the body
politic. It follows further that, one of the extreme terms, viz. the
people, as subject, being fixed and represented by unity, whenever the
duplicate ratio increases or diminishes, the simple ratio does the
same, and is changed accordingly. From this we see that there is not a
single unique and absolute form of government, but as many governments
differing in nature as there are States differing in size.
If, ridiculing this system, any one were to say that, in order to find
the mean proportional and give form to the body of the government,
it is only necessary, according to me, to find the square root of
the number of the people, I should answer that I am here taking this
number only as an instance; that the relations of which I am speaking
are not measured by the number of men alone, but generally by the
amount of action, which is a combination of a multitude of causes; and
that, further, if, to save words, I borrow for a moment the terms of
geometry, I am none the less well aware that moral quantities do not
allow of geometrical accuracy.
The government is on a small scale what the body politic which includes
it is on a great one. It is a moral person endowed with certain
faculties, active like the Sovereign and passive like the State,
and capable of being resolved into other similar relations. This
accordingly gives rise to a new proportion, within which there is yet
another, according to the arrangement of the magistracies, till an
indivisible middle term is reached, i.e. a single ruler or supreme
magistrate, who may be represented, in the midst of this progression,
as the unity between the fractional and the ordinal series.
Without encumbering ourselves with this multiplication of terms, let us
rest content with regarding government as a new body within the State,
distinct from the people and the Sovereign, and intermediate between
them.
There is between these two bodies this essential difference, that
the State exists by itself, and the government only through the
Sovereign. Thus the dominant will of the prince is, or should be,
nothing but the general will or the law; his force is only the public
force concentrated in his hands, and, as soon as he tries to base
any absolute and independent act on his own authority, the tie that
binds the whole together begins to be loosened. If finally the prince
should come to have a particular will more active than the will of the
Sovereign, and should employ the public force in his hands in obedience
to this particular will, there would be, so to speak, two Sovereigns,
one rightful and the other actual, the social union would evaporate
instantly, and the body politic would be dissolved.
However, in order that the government may have a true existence
and a real life distinguishing it from the body of the State, and
in order that all its members may be able to act in concert and
fulfil the end for which it was set up, it must have a particular
personality, a sensibility common to its members, and a force and will
of its own making for its preservation. This particular existence
implies assemblies, councils, power of deliberation and decision,
rights, titles, and privileges belonging exclusively to the prince
and making the office of magistrate more honourable in proportion
as it is more troublesome. The difficulties lie in the manner of so
ordering this subordinate whole within the whole, that it in no way
alters the general constitution by affirmation of its own, and always
distinguishes the particular force it possesses, which is destined
to aid in its preservation, from the public force, which is destined
to the preservation of the State; and, in a word, is always ready to
sacrifice the government to the people, and never to sacrifice the
people to the government.
Furthermore, although the artificial body of the government is the work
of another artificial body, and has, we may say, only a borrowed and
subordinate life, this does not prevent it from being able to act with
more or less vigour or promptitude, or from being, so to speak, in more
or less robust health. Finally, without departing directly from the
end for which it was instituted, it may deviate more or less from it,
according to the manner of its constitution.
From all these differences arise the various relations which the
government ought to bear to the body of the State, according to the
accidental and particular relations by which the State itself is
modified, for often the government that is best in itself will become
the most pernicious, if the relations in which it stands have altered
according to the defects of the body politic to which it belongs.
Thus at Venice the College, even in the absence of the Doge, is
called "Most Serene Prince."