                         SIX BOOKS

                          OF THE

                        COMMONWEALTH

                       by JEAN BODIN

             Abridged and translated by M. J. TOOLEY

                   BASIL BLACKWELL OXFORD

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN IN THE CITY OF OXFORD AT THE ALDEN PRESS BOUND BY 
THE KEMP HALL BINDERY, OXFORD



                          CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

I. Biographical Sketch.

II. The Argument of the Six books of the Commonwealth.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE.

THE SIX BOOKS OF THE COMMONWEALTH.

CONTENTS [The chapter numbers in brackets are those of the original French.] 

PAGE

BOOK I

The final end of the well-ordered commonwealth [Chapter I] 1

Concerning the family [Chapters II-V] 6

Concerning the citizen [Chapters VI and VII] 18

Concerning sovereignty [Chapter VIII] 25

Concerning feudatory and tributary princes [Chapter IX] 36

The true attributes of sovereignty [Chapter X] 40

BOOK II

Of the different kinds of commonwealth [Chapter I] 51

Concerning despotic monarchy [Chapter II] 56

Concerning royal monarchy [Chapter III] 59

Concerning tyrannical monarchy [Chapters IV and V] 61

Concerning the aristocratic state [Chapter VI] 69

Concerning popular states [Chapter VII] 72

BOOK III

The council [Chapter I] 77

Officers of state and holders of commissions [Chapters II and III] 80

The magistrate [Chapters IV and V] 84

Concerning corporate associations, guilds, estates, and communities [Chapter 
VII] 96

BOOK IV

The rise and fall of commonwealths [Chapter I] 109

That changes of government and changes in law should not be sudden [Chapter 
III] 123

Whether the tenure of office in the commonwealth should be permanent 
[Chapter IV] 128

Whether the prince should render justice to his subjects in person [Chapter 
VI] 133

How seditions may be avoided [Chapter VII] 138

BOOK V

The order to be observed in adapting the form of the commonwealth to divers 
conditions of men, and the means of determining their dispositions [Chapter 
I] 

How to prevent those disorders which spring from excessive wealth and 
excessive poverty [Chapter II]

Concerning rewards and punishments [Chapter IV]

Whether it is expedient to arm subjects, fortify and organize for war 
[Chapter V]

The keeping of treaties and alliances between princes [Chapter VI]

BOOK VI

The census and the censorship [Chapter I]

The revenues [Chapter II]

A comparison of the three legitimate types of commonwealth, popular, 
aristocratic, and monarchical, concluding in favour of monarchy [Chapter IV] 

That in a royal monarchy succession should not be by election nor in the 
female line, but by hereditary succession in the male line [Chapter V]

Concerning distributive, commutative, and harmonic justice, and their 
relation to the aristocratic, popular, and monarchical states [Chapter VI]

____________

INTRODUCTION

I. BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

JEAN BODIN, like Machiavelli, was one of those writers whose political 
thinking developed under pressure of personal experience. The Six books of 
the Commonwealth was published early in 1576, and more than any of his other 
works, reflects all the facets of his very varied experience. It is the work 
of a humanist who had had a conservative education; of a jurist who was as 
familiar with the work of Du Moulins on the customary law as of the medieval 
civilians; and of a patriot who had turned his attention to politics in the 
conditions produced by the Wars of Religion. The circumstances under which 
the first years of his life were passed explain how he came to be all these 
things.

He was born in Angers in 1529 or 1530 of a prosperous bourgeois family. His 
first patron was its bishop, Gabriel Bouvery, a man of influential 
connections -- he was a nephew of Francis I's Chancellor Poyet -- and a 
scholar versed in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. Under his influence, at the early 
age of 15 or 16 years, Bodin was professed in the Carmelite house of 
Ntre-Dame at Angers, and then sent with three other young monks to be 
educated at the house of their Order in Paris.

In Paris he came in contact with both the old and the new learning. His 
style of exposition makes it clear that he was trained in the old methods of 
formal argument. It is also clear that he was grounded in the traditional 
aristotelianism of the schools, without however succumbing entirely to its 
influence. He was familiar with Aristotle, but nearly always treats him as 
the antagonist to be refuted rather than the master to be followed. What, 
understandably enough, he seems to have found more attractive was the new 
learning centred in the Collge des Quatre Langues, later to become the 
Collge de France, where linguistic studies replaced theological, and Plato 
superseded Aristotle as the master philosopher. Its courses were open to all 
who cared to attend, and there Bodin probably acquired his extensive 
knowledge of Greek and Hebrew literature, and his platonism. As a legacy of 
his Paris education his style was permanently modelled on the disputation, 
but he was a man of the renaissance in preferring Plato to Aristotle, and in 
being at any rate as much interested in the humane studies of languages and 
history as in philosophy and theology.

His first sojourn in Paris ended when he was 18 or 19 years old with his 
leaving the convent, after being dispensed from his vows, and abandoning the 
study of philosophy and the humanities for that of law. The circumstances 
leading up to this great change of direction are obscure. But in 1547 the 
prior of the Carmelites of Tours and two brothers, one of whom was named 
Jean Bodin, were cited before the Parlement of Paris for having too freely 
debated matters of faith. In the event the prior and one of the brothers, 
but not Jean Bodin, were burned. It is not certain whether this was the 
author of the Six books of the Commonwealth, for the name Jean Bodin was 
fairly common in the sixteenth century, nor why he escaped, whoever he was. 
Did he recant? Or was influence used to save him, perhaps that of Gabriel 
Bouvery? Our Jean Bodin's written works are evidence that he was the sort of 
man who might easily have got into such dangers in his youth. His last book, 
the Heptaplomeres, a dialogue between people of different religious faiths, 
shows him to have been deeply interested in religion, to have been 
profoundly curious about all the various systems of belief professed in his 
day, and to have reached so detached a judgement of them that what his own 
convictions were is a matter of some controversy. He always expressed great 
repugnance for any policy of forcing men's consciences, and declared in the 
Heptaplomeres that under such a threat a man was justified in concealing his 
convictions. He never risked publishing this work. If the Carmelite of 1547 
was our Jean Bodin, the reason for his leaving the dangerous environment of 
the convent becomes clear; and his attitude to religious persecution, and 
his tendency to conform his own religious profession to time and place, is 
explained.

The same sort of ambiguity hangs over what may have been another incident in 
his religious experience. In 1552 a Jean Bodin was in Geneva and left about 
a year later. If this man also was our Jean Bodin it is evidence of his 
desire to acquaint himself thoroughly with what Calvinism stood for, but one 
cannot be certain of anything else than that he must have conformed openly 
to Calvinist practises. The treatment of Calvinism in the Heptaplomeres does 
not suggest that he became, much less remained, a convinced Calvinist. The 
burning of Servetus for heresy in 1553 might well have determined his 
leaving the city. 

Before this happened, about 1550, he had embarked on the study of the civil 
law, and but for the possible break in 1552, was for ten years in Toulouse, 
both as student and teacher. That is to say his life in Toulouse was the 
counterpart of his life in Paris. His environment was academic, and his 
activities those of a scholar, though Roman law had replaced the classics as 
the subject of his studies.

His entry into the world of affairs came in 1561 when he abandoned the 
teaching of the law for its practice, and went to Paris to be called to the 
bar. He had, of course, to take the oath declaring his catholic orthodoxy 
required of every avocat du roi on entering into his office. The removal 
involved more than a change of occupation, important as that was to his 
development as a writer. The climate of legal opinion was very different in 
Paris from what it had been in Toulouse. In south France the new learning 
had invaded the law schools. A new jurisprudence, especially associated with 
Bourges, and the name of Jacques Cujas, developed out of the humanist 
passion for recovering and reconstituting the classical past. The great 
medieval civilians, a Bartolus or a Baldus, consciously adapted Roman law to 
the legal requirements of their own age, just as the medieval grammarian 
consciously developed Latin to be a vehicle for expressing his own processes 
of thought. To Cujas this was a work of barbarization, and he aimed at 
restoring the original text of the corpus iuris civilis. The results of his 
endeavours was one of the monuments of renaissance scholarship, and put him 
in the front rank of sixteenth-century jurists.

Paris lawyers were at once more conservative and more practical, perhaps 
because the customary law of the north, though deeply penetrated by the 
principles of Roman law, was not a derivation from it, as was the case in 
the south, but fundamentally an indigenous growth. The Paris lawyer, 
concerned with the problems of actual legal practice, necessarily therefore 
perpetuated the Bartolist tradition in his treatment of Roman law. What 
interested him more, because of its practical import, were projects for the 
codification and unification of the still very localized law of north 
France. Such a project, first mooted under Charles VII, was taken very 
seriously by Louis XII who ordered an extensive survey of the kingdom to 
collect the necessary material, and while Bodin was in Paris was being 
actively prosecuted by the Chancellor, Michel de L'Hpital, despite the 
distraction of the political situation. This comprehensive attitude to law 
Bodin found far more sympathetic than the purism and exclusiveness of the 
law universities. In the Six books of the Commonwealth Bartolus and Baldus 
are the authorities on the civil law that he constantly appeals to. Along 
with them he cites Charles Du Moulins on the customary law with equal 
respect. Cujas is only quoted in order to be refuted. 

Projects of codification were inspired in the first instance by 
considerations of administrative convenience. But they appealed also to 
scholars, among them Bodin, who represented another aspect of the French 
renaissance than the classicism of Cujas and his school, and that was its 
universalism. This was quite different from the universalism of the 
schoolmen, which was a matter of abstractions, and centred on the problem of 
form. What French humanists of the first half of the sixteenth century were 
interested in was the integration of concrete facts into comprehensive and 
comprehensible systems. Religion being the urgent topic of the day, it was 
the search for the universal and comprehensive religion which most engaged 
their attention, and encouraged the hope that some sort of agreed formula 
could be reached which would unite Catholic and Huguenot.

Bodin, the humanist and the civilian turned lawyer, embarked on an enquiry 
into universal law. But he did not approach it through the study of texts 
and judgements, despite his experience both as teacher and practitioner, for 
universal law, he thought, was best ascertained through a study of history. 
He was not original in this respect, such ideas were in the air. Franois 
Hotman made the same association in his Antitribonien published in 1567. But 
the previous year Bodin had already produced his far more thorough and 
systematic study, The Method for the Easy Comprehension of History.[1] He 
announced his plan in the Dedication ' [The civilians] have described the 
laws of no people except the Romans. They should have read Plato, who 
thought that one way to establish law and government in a state was for wise 
men to collect and compare all laws of all states, and from them extract and 
combine the best models.' The Method therefore -- though Bodin reviewed all 
the available material in the form of histories and travel-books, ancient 
and modem -- was not just a scholarly examination of sources. His emphasis 
was on the comprehension of history. What he wanted to establish was what 
experience had shown to be the best and most enduring forms of law. 'In 
history the best part of universal law lies hidden; and what is of great 
importance for the appraisal of laws -- the customs of peoples, and the 
beginnings, growth, conditions, changes and decline of all states -- are 
obtained from it. The chief subject-matter of this Method consists of these 
facts, since nothing is more rewarding in the study of history than what is 
learnt about the government of states.'

Bodin in fact, by the time he came to write the Method was already more 
interested in forms of government than forms of law. In Paris apparently he 
found himself too near to the centre of things to escape being drawn into 
the overmastering preoccupations of the times, religion on his first visit, 
and politics on his second. The development of his career emphasized this 
bias by bringing him new contacts. In 1571 he entered the household of the 
King's brother, Franois duc d'Alenon, as master of requests and 
councillor. This brought him into the world of high politics just at a time 
when politics were already engaging his attention. The Six books of the 
Commonwealth is evidence of the extent to which he made use of the 
opportunities of his position. He inspected diplomatic correspondence, and 
conversed with foreign ambassadors or Frenchmen returned from abroad. He 
also came with Alenon to England, and saw something of the court of 
Elizabeth and the University of Cambridge. In 1583 he accompanied him on his 
journey to the Netherlands.

In the household of Alenon he was in a world intellectually congenial to 
him. The Duke was the official leader of the party of the politiques, whose 
distinction it was, in an age of rising fanaticism, to hold that the state 
is primarily concerned with the maintenance of order and not with the 
establishment of true religion. The party therefore stood for the absolute 
authority of the monarchy to determine the measures necessary to that end, 
and its unqualified right to demand obedience, as against the doctrine of 
the right of resistance in the name of religion. A public and official 
statement of these principles had been made by the Chancellor, Michel de 
l'Hpital, in his speech to the Estates of Orleans in 1560, just about the 
time Bodin came to Paris. It fell on ears mostly deaf. In 1562 the long 
series of the Wars of Religion started, and for the space of thirty years 
France enjoyed neither settled peace nor order. At this stage of his career, 
in these circumstances, and in this environment, Bodin composed the Six 
books of the Commonwealth, published in 1576.

Civil war inspired him with a horror of rebellion and the anarchy that comes 
in its train, and convinced him that the politiques were right, and that the 
only remedy was the recognition of the absolute authority of the state 'to 
which, after immortal God, we owe all things'. Roman law suggested to him 
the essential concept of such a power. But the comparative historical 
studies already undertaken in the Method enabled him to free the concept of 
sovereignty from its particular Roman associations, and to consider it in 
general as the mark of all types of states at all times. His conviction that 
it is the condition of human well-being that this power must in all 
circumstances be preserved led him into the attempt to construct a universal 
science of politics.

Almost immediately after the publication of the book his career took a 
downward turn. This had nothing to do with the work itself, but was a 
consequence of his disinterested conduct as deputy for Vermandois in the 
Estates of Blois. The occasion proved to be one of the first importance. 
Since the Estates of Tours in 1484, assembled by the Regency on the death of 
Louis XI, there had been none in France till Francis I summoned them to meet 
at Orleans in December 1560. His death a few days before they assembled 
robbed the meeting of any direction, and they were dissolved in January. The 
Estates-General met again that year at Pontoise, but was again overshadowed, 
this time by the Colloquy of Passy, which was looked to more hopefully for a 
solution of the growing religious troubles of the kingdom. It failed however 
and civil war started. Therefore the expedient of a meeting of the Estates 
was again tried. This time they were summoned to meet at Blois in December 
1576. 

The opportunity was the Paix de Monsieur which had brought a lull in 
hostilities. The politiques hoped to convert it into a lasting peace by 
negotiating a settlement. But the Catholic League had just been founded by 
the intransigent conservatives, and it dominated the two privileged orders 
of the nobles and the clergy. In these circumstances religious peace was 
unattainable. Much important business was nevertheless transacted. The 
Estates discussed a considerable programme of administrative reform, and 
financial expedients to relieve the chronic inadequacy of the revenues. The 
results of these deliberations were embodied in the bills of recommendation 
presented by the three estates, and on these the great Ordinance of Blois of 
1579 was based, for the Estates could only petition for legislation. The 
framing and publication of edicts belonged to the Crown.

Judging by what he says in the Six books of the Commonwealth these Estates, 
the most important of any that met in the sixteenth century, were a model of 
what Estates should be to Bodin's mind. Yet his personal share in them was 
disastrous to himself. It was his first and only appearance in public life, 
and also the only occasion on which he made an open stand for principles in 
circumstances damaging to himself. He perhaps found the courage, or the 
conviction, necessary to do this because it was the future of France, and 
not simply his own safety, which was at stake. His sense of the importance 
of the occasion led him to publish an account of what had happened in a 
pamphlet entitled Recueil de tout ce qu'il s'est ngoci?en la compagnie du 
Tiers Etat de France ... en la VIIIe de Blois. In an assembly dominated by 
the Catholic League, of which the King himself, Henry III, was aspiring to 
become head, he opposed the reopening of the war against the Huguenots, and 
urged that a solution of the religious problem could only be achieved by 
negotiation. He upheld the right of the third estate to dissent from the 
recommendations of the two privileged orders, despite their opposition. He 
opposed as damaging to the monarchy the alienation of royal domain as a 
means of raising money for the prosecution of the war.

His success in the last two instances cost him the favour of the King. When 
therefore the Duc d'Alenon died in 1583, he retired from Paris and took up 
the office of procurateur au prsidial de Lon which he inherited from his 
brother-in-law in 1578. Provincial seclusion did not, however, mean peace 
and security. In 1588, on the assassination of its leader, the Duc de Guise, 
the League started a reign of terror in Lon as in so many other places in 
France, and Bodin thought it prudent to join an association which stood for 
everything in both politics and religion which he utterly condemned. The 
advent of Henry IV in 1594, and the long-deferred triumph of the policy of 
the politiques, could not have been anything but profoundly welcome to him. 
But if he had entertained any hopes of restored favour, his joining the 
League cost him any advancement. He was still in Lon when he died towards 
the end of 1596.

Judging by his writings at this time, however, his withdrawal from politics 
went deeper than a mere change of scene and occupation. There was also an 
intellectual withdrawal. He abandoned his preoccupation with men and affairs 
in favour of the contemplation of the order of nature, and an enquiry into 
the truths of religion. He was still the same Bodin however in search of a 
universal system. In the Novum Theatrum Naturae of 1594 he set out to 
describe the universal system of nature, and the unpublished 
Heptaplomeres[2] was a search for the principles of universal religion. It 
is also significant of this shift of interest that of his minor works, the 
essay on currency belongs to the second Paris period, while in Lon he 
composed the Demonomania, a study of the influence of good and evil spirits 
in the world. It could hardly have been the result of any deliberate plan, 
but in fact the order of Bodin's intellectual development, as reflected in 
his writings, follows the order of man's ascent from the contemplation of 
his fellows to the contemplation of nature and of God, described in the Six 
books of the Commonwealth as the fulfilment of the end and purpose of life.

Despite this withdrawal he was already a famous man at the time of his 
death. Ten editions of the Six books of the Commonwealth appeared in the 
French version during his lifetime. In 1586 he published a slightly expanded 
Latin version, and two more editions of this appeared before he died. Other 
translators rendered the book into Italian, Spanish, German and English. But 
his fame, though great, was comparatively short-lived. New editions of his 
book continued to appear at intervals till the middle of the seventeenth 
century after which the stream dried up. This was because, though the book 
did much to bring about a revolution in political thinking, once that was 
accomplished it had not the literary qualities to recommend it to the 
general reader. It remains all the same an important book, both in its own 
right, and as a landmark in the history of political thought.

II. THE ARGUMENT OF THE SIX BOOKS OF THE COMMONWEALTH 

THE true turning points in the history of political thinking are marked not 
so much by new things that are said, as by new questions that are asked. 
With the possible exception of the authors of the Defensor Pacis, no one in 
the middle ages asked 'What is a state and how is it constructed?', but only 
'Who are the rulers and what are their powers?' Even Machiavelli, individual 
as he was in treating the state as existing in its own right without 
reference to any higher purpose or order, never asked this question. But 
Bodin did, and so got away from the endless debate on the relations of 
temporal and spiritual powers, and found the new approach required of the 
new situation which had arisen in the sixteenth century.

The break-up of the medieval Church destroyed the framework of the older 
forms of political thinking. So long as there was a universally recognized 
Church, having authority, it was possible to conceive of a realizable order 
in Christendom in terms of obligation to the Church. To require princes to 
act as the sword of the Church, or subjects to renounce their allegiance to 
an excommunicate ruler, might be unpalatable, but were not impracticable 
commands. But when princes and subjects alike had first to make a decision 
as to what was the Church they recognized, such commandments could only, and 
did, lead to confusion. Some other focus of political obligation had to be 
found before order could ensue.

His French environment, and his sympathy with the party of the politiques 
probably helped Bodin to recognize where the new centre of gravity lay. He 
no longer talks about the temporal and spiritual powers, the Church and the 
secular ruler, but about the commonwealth, la rpublique. Moreover he 
described it with what was recognized to be such insight into its essential 
character, that all but the simplest political thinkers that came after him, 
whether they agreed with him or not, thought and wrote not about the powers 
that be, but the political community as such, and in terms used by him.

For a modem reader the newness of his outlook is somewhat disguised by its 
formal academic presentation. By comparison with Machiavelli, for instance, 
he seems to belong to an earlier tradition of political writing. It is true 
that he did so. His university education along traditional lines turned him 
out a formal and systematic thinker not only by habit but also by training. 
Without always keeping to the strict form of the disputation, he 
nevertheless followed the method in principle in establishing his 
conclusions. Whether he was discussing slavery [I, v], the exercise of the 
royal prerogative of justice [IV, vi], or the best form of the commonwealth 
[VI, iv], he first put the subject to be debated in the form of a question, 
then assembled all the arguments that could be urged on one side and the 
other, proceeded point by point to rebut the view which he rejected, and so 
established a reasoned conclusion. The Six books of the Commonwealth has in 
consequence about as much pretension to literary grace and charm as a 
scholastic treatise, and the full text makes very laborious reading. But it 
also has the merits of its defects. The exposition is complete and coherent. 
The other, and even more important lesson that Bodin learned in the schools 
was to achieve clarity and unambiguity by careful definition of all the 
important terms used. It was these definitions that on occasions he quite 
rightly claimed were new, and that a generation that was fast casting behind 
it the rigid formalism of the schools found most arresting and most 
illuminating. 

The opening sentences of the Six books of the Commonwealth betray the 
original plan of the whole work. Bodin starts by defining the commonwealth 
as 'the rightly ordered government of a number of families and of those 
things which are their common concern, by a sovereign power'. He then goes 
on 'we start in this way with a definition because the final end of any 
subject must be understood before the means of attaining it can profitably 
be considered, and the definition indicates what that end is'. In other 
words he is concerned to establish first what a state is and the ends for 
which it exists, and then to discuss the practical policies necessary for 
their accomplishment. His book is therefore a work of the same mixed 
character as Aristotle's Politics. That is to say it is concerned at once 
with a philosophy of the state, and with the science of politics. In fact, 
although he seldom mentions Aristotle except to disagree with him, the 
Politics obviously provided the general model for the Six books of the 
Commonwealth. The structure is the same. The first two books of the latter 
work reproduce the order of the argument in books I and III of the former, 
being concerned with establishing the nature of the state as such, its end, 
its foundation in the family, citizenship, and the possible forms the state 
can assume, and in the same order. Again, Bodin shared Aristotle's lively 
interest in the causes of the preservation and destruction of states, and 
therefore the theme of books IV and V in the Six books of the Commonwealth 
bear a general resemblance to the central books of the Politics. But in this 
part of the work, where he is concerned with the practice, and not with the 
theory of politics, Bodin moves away from Aristotle. For one thing the great 
difference in political conditions in ancient Greece and in his own times 
meant that there could be little correspondence in the particulars of this 
discussion. The problems were not the same. Moreover there is an urgency in 
Bodin's writing that one does not sense in the Politics. He wanted to 
remedy, not just to analyse, the evils of the times. As he says in the 
Dedication, when the ship of state is in danger of foundering, it behoves 
the very passengers to give what assistance they can, and it is in the hope 
of restoring the ancient splendour of the French monarchy that he has 
undertaken to write on the commonwealth. The theme of what is to be done and 
what avoided becomes more and more insistent as the argument proceeds, and 
altogether dominates the later books.

But as has been said, though France might be his immediate concern, he 
wanted to enlarge his enquiry so as to arrive at a universal science of 
politics. His procedure was the same as that already used in the Method, 
induction from the known relevant facts. He surveyed all the evidence about 
the way the state works, much as Aristotle conducted a preliminary enquiry 
into the constitutions of Greek city states, only he did what Aristotle did 
not do, included all this material in the main work. For Bodin the relevant 
facts were in the first instance all the information he could collect about 
the contemporary world from the dominions of the Grand Turk to the New 
World, and from Sweden to Ethiopia. His sources were those already used for 
the enquiry into universal law, the accounts of travellers and contemporary 
historians such as Leo the African and Francesco Alvarez, Paolo Giovio and 
Las Casas, Machiavelli, Guicciardini and the Venetian constitutional 
historians, Sleidan, Sigismond d'Herberstein and many others. As has been 
shown, this information he checked, supplemented and brought up to date by 
inspecting diplomatic correspondence, and talking with diplomats whenever he 
could.

In the second place the relevant evidence included, he considered, the facts 
of past history. This meant for him, as for all men of the renaissance, 
primarily the ancient world as portrayed by the Greek and Roman historians, 
and he shared the characteristic humanist admiration for its achievements. 
But he also had a good deal to say about medieval France, and had troubled 
to consult the archives at Rheims, Beauvais and elsewhere. He knew something 
about England, and how the Empire and the Papacy had developed during the 
middle ages. As he had already explained in the Method, the study of history 
is not only the means of discovering the principles of universal law, but 
also of political wisdom. 'For acquiring prudence nothing is more important 
or more essential than history, because episodes in human life recur as in a 
circle, repeating themselves.' It is clear that he regarded history as the 
record of a series of recurrences rather than of a process of change. As 
will appear later, his cosmological system implied that the order of events 
is cyclic and not evolutionary. History therefore is a storehouse of 
immediately relevant examples, mostly of the character of cautionary tales. 
He could in consequence assume that the proper collection and collation of 
these examples would enable one not only to interpret contemporary politics, 
but also to formulate rules for the guidance of statesmen which should have 
a timeless validity, 'reliable maxims for what we should seek and what 
avoid'.

Such use of such material for the building up of the science of politics was 
not original. The resemblance to Machiavelli is too close to be fortuitous. 
Machiavelli's collected works were published in 1550, and Bodin refers to 
the Prince, the Discourses on Livy, and the History of Florence, besides 
basing a chapter [V, v] on the Art of War. In the introduction to the 
Discourses he could find the statement that history is the proper study of 
the statesman because, human nature being constant, men always behave in the 
same way, and therefore the same sequence of cause and effect is always 
repeating itself. One learns by the experience of others. In the Prince and 
the Discourses he could see Machiavelli applying this principle by regularly 
juxtaposing examples of what he was discussing taken first from ancient and 
then from contemporary history, deducing general conclusions, and so 
proceeding to frame general maxims. Bodin took over the method but vastly 
extended the scope. He thought Machiavelli's survey too restricted to allow 
of conclusions universally valid, and complained that he was very ignorant 
of many things because he had not read a sufficiency of good books, nor 
acquainted himself with any peoples but the Italians. Hence what appears to 
be Bodin's prolixity. It was a consequence of the extent of the field he 
surveyed, and, it must be admitted, his inability to condense or select.

The science of politics, like any other science, is shaped by the questions 
asked, and for which an answer is sought. Here again Machiavelli suggested 
some, though not always all the most important, questions asked. Ought 
princes to keep the terms of the treaties they made? Should they aim at 
being rather loved or feared by their subjects' Is it expedient to arm one's 
subjects and train them for war? But here the resemblance ends. It is an 
indication of the fundamental difference in values between the two men that 
the answers are always different where morals are concerned. If Machiavelli 
holds that a prince is only bound to keep a treaty when it furthers his 
interests, Bodin says he must do so if the interests of the other party to 
the treaty are at stake [I, viii]. If Machiavelli argues that a prince 
should rely on fear to keep his subjects obedient and in awe, Bodin thinks 
that he should win their affection because friendship and not interest is 
the bond of society [IV, vi].

It is clear from these instances that for Bodin the science of politics was 
not just a study of the technique of successful government as it was for 
Machiavelli. He borrowed the method of investigation, but he strongly 
reprehended the lack of regard for moral principles, and in the Dedication 
classed Machiavelli with the apologists of the right of rebellion, as the 
writers whose doctrines had caused the ruin of commonwealths in his own day. 
He had as clear a vision as the Italian of what states are like, and of how 
men conduct themselves politically. But unlike the Italian he always 
measured them by an absolute standard of right to which they ought to 
conform. Therefore for him the examination of things as they are did not 
cover the whole enquiry necessary. An historical survey can be made to yield 
conclusions about what are politically expedient ways and means, but he did 
not think it was capable of determining the ends to which those ways and 
means should be directed. He rejected the notion that one can arrive at a 
true conception of the proper order in human affairs by considering things 
merely as they are. This comes out in his discussion of slavery [I, v]. He 
will not allow that it can be defended as a natural institution simply 
because it has always existed among men. It is the work of sin, not of 
nature, and condemned as such by Jew, Christian, and Mohammedan alike.

This is indicative of his whole approach to politics. His values are as 
traditional as was his cosmology. He thought of the natural order as 
contained within an eternal order comprehending the universe and all 
particulars within it, in a single system of relationships. To that order 
all actions and all institutions must be referred as their end. It is 
spontaneously realized in all created things save man. The proper motions of 
the heavenly bodies can be determined by observation because in them there 
is no imperfection. But when one comes to consider men, the divine and 
natural intention has been disturbed by the Fall. The proper order of human 
society cannot therefore be determined by observation simply, because men 
are imperfect. To know that order we must consult natural reason, and with 
even more certainty, the law of God revealed in the scriptures. For Bodin 
therefore, as he himself observed at the beginning, the science of politics 
must be founded in a philosophy of the state indicating ends.

Moreover a moral imperative is implied since men, knowing by revelation and 
the light of natural reason what the divine intention is, are bound in 
conscience to endeavour to realize it.

In fact Bodin's political thought was rooted in a body of dogma, the law of 
God. It should perhaps be observed in passing that he appears to mean the 
Old Testament Scriptures alone. There is no single citation from the New 
Testament throughout the work, and a reference to the trial of Christ is 
only there to illustrate the powers of Roman provincial governors. Bodin had 
read Calvin, and forcibly approved his condemnation of rebellion, yet he 
never mentions Romans xiii on which it was based [II, v].

From these premises it is not surprising to find that Bodin was at one with 
Calvin and the earlier reformers in seeing the state as originating in the 
Fall. The disorder and violence of the times he lived in converted what had 
been a traditional doctrine into a living belief. The state is necessary 
because men are wicked. But whereas Calvin adhered to the old view that the 
sin was the sin of rebellion against "the commands of God, for Bodin it was 
the sin of injustice against one's fellow men. He reverts several times to 
the theme that the state originated in violence [I, vi and IV, i]. Sometimes 
he represents it as the consequence of a passion for dominion, of which 
Nimrod was the first exemplar. At others he ascribes it to an instinct of 
mutual association as a means of protection against such acts of violence 
[III, vii]. But in either case, it is the same evils which threaten men, the 
destruction of their liberty and the seizure of their possessions.

This shift of emphasis to be observed when one passes from Calvin to Bodin 
is significant of a newly developing doctrine of rights inherent in the 
individual, and prior to the state. In the second half of the sixteenth 
century the old conception of the primitive state of innocence was 
undergoing important modification. The liberty that men enjoyed in that 
primitive natural society was assumed not to have been lost -- as Calvin 
thought it had been lost -- but to be inalienable, and its preservation the 
foundation of all legitimate political authority. Such views were being 
expressed by Franois Hotman in his Franco-Gallia of 1573, and a short while 
after the publication of the Six books of the Commonwealth in the Vindiciae 
contra tyrannos of 1579. Bodin never used such phrases as 'natural rights', 
or 'inherent rights'. But he assumed all through two rights in the 
individual sanctioned by divine and natural law, liberty and property. 

For once his treatment of the subject of liberty was fragmentary, perhaps 
because his preoccupation with order led him to approach the state 
throughout from the point of view of the authority of the ruler, rather than 
that of the rights of the subject. But his main conception is clear. He 
defined natural liberty as perfect freedom to live as one pleases, subject 
only to the rule of reason [I, iii]. This is qualified when a man becomes a 
citizen by the obligation to obey the ruler. But he did not, as did Hotman 
and the author of the Vindiciae contra tyrannos, hold that such an 
obligation is compatible with freedom only when the citizen consents to law 
and government. He would not allow that consent plays any part whatsoever in 
the obligation to obey. Since, as will appear later, the prince and the law 
through which he speaks are subject to divine and natural law, for Bodin the 
ultimate sanction of the individual's liberty, and the guarantee that the 
necessary restrictions on it in a political society shall be reasonable, is 
not consent, but the imprescriptibility of divine and natural law.

His treatment of the subject of property is incidental to his defence of the 
family, and his desire to preserve its integrity. This he saw could only be 
done by preserving the integrity of its property, threatened by rights of 
alienation and the depredations of the tax-collector. He therefore, long 
before either Grotius or Locke, defended private property as sanctioned by 
divine and natural law, and deduced that the ruler has no right to tax at 
will [I, viii]. He never asked however, as Grotius and Locke asked, how 
these rights were distinguished and delimited in the first instance. He 
simply assumed that the existing state of affairs was sanctioned by the 
tenth commandment. As a civilian, writing of a society in which property 
usually meant inherited real estate, he may have assumed as obvious that the 
rights of individual families went back to an original occupation of res 
nullius. But however they arose, these rights he regarded as so sacred that 
the property of the subject cannot be taken from him without his consent, 
save by legal escheat or confiscation. Presumably he meant that the consent 
of the Estates was necessary to the imposition of any new tax.

The establishment of the principle that there are certain imprescriptible 
rights in the individual provided him with the means of distinguishing the 
rightly ordered state from that which is not so. Tyrannical government is 
one under which the liberty and property of the subject are arbitrarily 
invaded, a legitimate government one where the ruler or rulers respect and 
guarantee them [II, ii]. If then he agreed with Calvin that the state 
originated in sin, he did not agree with him that in consequence it is 
merely a machinery for the punishment of sin. He followed up his account of 
the wickedness of the first rulers by observing that in the face of the 
threat of enslavement, men were drawn together to form a society whose 
purpose was the preservation of rights [III, vii]. A true state is therefore 
a droit gouvernement.

It is clear from his discussion of the term droit that he meant nothing less 
by it than the whole good of man. He repeats the accepted formula that the 
body should be disciplined to virtuous activity, and virtuous activity 
directed to the apprehension of eternal truth. Aquinas would have agreed. 
But Bodin added that contemplation, or the development of those qualities of 
mind whereby men distinguish good and evil, true and false, pious and 
impious, is not only the sovereign good of the individual, but also the true 
end of the state, for he explicitly identified the two. The importance of 
this modification can hardly be exaggerated, for it brings not only natural 
virtue, but religion within the sphere of politics [I, i]. He does not 
however enlarge upon the implications, nor ever discuss the Church as such. 
But it is clear that he did not mean that the state has an obligation to 
establish 'true religion', or that it is for the prince to set up an 
organized Church and compel conformity to it. This is clear from his 
treatment of the subject of heresy [IV, vii]. He objected to persecution as 
only too likely to produce a general scepticism about religion. This he 
thought a disaster of the first importance, for in his opinion any system of 
beliefs is to be preferred to none. Religion, because it induces reverence 
and obedience, is the foundation of the commonwealth, and it largely rests 
with the prince whether it flourishes or not. What the prince must do is to 
establish conditions under which religion in the general sense is 
encouraged. Only by toleration of all forms can genuine piety be promoted, 
and only the prince can implement a policy of toleration. When therefore 
Bodin makes droit the end of the state, he does not mean, as Aristotle did, 
that the state is the means to the good life because political activity is 
the highest exercise of virtue. He meant that the state alone can maintain 
those conditions under which subjects can individually live virtuous, 
thoughtful, and pious lives. The best state, he says, is the one in which 
the greatest number of citizens live such lives.

Bodin was at the same time fully aware of the fact that in this imperfect 
world all states fall short of this ideal in varying degrees, and pursue 
not the highest good, but some particular good only, Sparta courage and 
devotion, Rome justice. As he says, the state must first secure the lives of 
its citizens before it can consider how they should live virtuously, and the 
energies of most states are absorbed in the initial effort of survival. In 
fact, in the ensuing books of the Six books of the Commonwealth the 
discussion is largely confined to this immediate problem of 
self-preservation. But as he said in his opening chapter, he did not intend 
to take Plato as his model and describe an ideal impossible of realization. 
Like Aristotle, he was looking for the best in the possible, and he was 
fully aware that as things were, states fell far below the level of what in 
favourable circumstances they might become. Having defined the ideal, or 
ultimate goal, his practical intention involved concentrating on what can in 
fact be achieved.

When he comes to consider the essential structure of the state, he follows 
Aristotle in holding that the family group, and not the individual, is the 
unit out of which the commonwealth is made up [I, ii]. He agreed that the 
family is a natural society held together by the authority of the husband 
over the wife, the father over his children and the master over his 
servants, all sharing a common means of subsistence. But what he emphasized 
was its moral and political rather than its economic significance, 
complaining that Aristotle neglected this aspect of it. He discussed it from 
the point of view of the father, and the father in his role of ruler rather 
than in his role of organizer of the common life. This was because, as is 
clear from all that he has to say about both the origin of the state, and 
the causes of its destruction, he was convinced that what men chiefly need 
is discipline to correct their factious and rebellious spirits. Therefore, 
he wanted to see the authority of the father not only preserved, but 
strengthened even to the extent of the power of life and death over his 
dependants, for he saw in that power the only means of training the young in 
the habit of obedience necessary to be acquired if they were later to 
exhibit that submission to the ruler proper in a subject [I, iv]. Good 
citizens are made in the nursery. It is thus its political importance that 
impels him to defend the authority of parents.

Starting from these ideas of sin and its correction, it is not surprising 
that he should have seen the state in terms of power [I, viii]. Its 
distinguishing mark is puissance souveraine, a sovereign power. It is 
necessarily perpetual and absolute, for any person or persons, within the 
community or outside it, who can impose any time limits, or restrictions on 
its competence, must be the true sovereign, and the apparent sovereign only 
an agent. His admission of lois royales, or fundamental laws of the French 
monarchy, does not really compromise these statements. The salic law is a 
rule restricting, not the exercise of sovereignty, but the choice of the 
person who may exercise it. The denial of the right to alienate royal domain 
was an application of the principle of Roman law that the one thing a 
sovereign cannot do is to destroy his own sovereignty, and this, Bodin 
thought, the impoverishment of the Crown would bring about.

On the other hand the use of the term 'absolute' did not necessarily imply 
that sovereign power was underived, since jurists were familiar with the 
Roman theory that the imperium is inherent in the community, and conferred 
by it on the ruler. But Bodin, though trained in the civil law, rejected 
this part of it. He did so almost certainly because the doctrine of the 
popular origin of political authority was already being associated by 
Huguenot writers such as Hotman, with doctrines of the right of resistance. 
It was very likely this association which led Bodin to deny that consent to 
government was any part of natural liberty, or that the obligation to obey 
depended on such consent being given. Bodin's ideas on the origin of 
political authority derive not from the civil law but from the Hebrew 
Scriptures. All power is of God [I, viii]. All right to command is therefore 
essentially independent of the consent of the commanded. The artificial 
society of the commonwealth should be modelled on the natural society of the 
family, and no father is appointed by his children to rule over them.

The unqualified right to command is therefore the distinguishing mark of the 
ruler. This characterization of the sovereign in terms of power is one of 
Bodin's most original conceptions, and marks the break with the traditional 
view of the king, enshrined in coronation oaths in use everywhere, that he 
was in virtue of his office essentially the embodiment of justice, and his 
primary function was to judge his subjects. Such a conception of monarchy 
was still that commonly held. Louis XII, busy with projects for the 
codification of law, spoke of himself as 'dbiteur de justice ?nos sujets'. 
The same view was taken by so eminent a contemporary of Bodin's as the 
Chancellor, Michel de L'Hpital, whose politique views on the French 
monarchy, expounded in his great speech to the Estates in 1560, were in 
other ways very much the same as Bodin's. Kings were first instituted, he 
told them, for the sake of justice, and this remains the essential attribute 
of the kingly office, as is shown by the representation of the king on the 
great seal, seated on his throne in the act of judgement.[3] Bodin, while 
agreeing that all jurisdiction derived from the king, did not even include 
the exercise of jurisdiction among the attributes of sovereignty, much less 
make it the distinctive mark, since the king exercises this right 
indirectly, by delegation [IV, vi]. For him the peculiar and essential mark 
of sovereignty is the right to make law; it is its unique attribute, for it 
is the normal means by which the sovereign indicates his commands. Law then 
is simply the command of the sovereign. This voluntarist conception is 
underlined by the distinction he makes between law -- that which is 
commanded -- and right -- that which is equitable. Only the first proceeds 
from the sovereign.

If law is command simply it includes, as Bodin saw, all activities of the 
sovereign. There are however certain matters which the sovereign must attend 
to himself in virtue of his office and not delegate to the subject, as he 
delegates rights of jurisdiction, and these powers Bodin calls the 
attributes of sovereignty. First there is included what Locke called the 
federative power, or sole right of making war and peace, and concluding 
alliances. Second there is the right to authorize all appointments to public 
office, whatever the actual procedure in use. Again, as the source of all 
rights of jurisdiction, the sovereign is the final resort of appeal for all 
his subjects and in all causes. Finally he has the exclusive right to demand 
unqualified oaths of submission, for the relations of the subject to his 
sovereign are unique in that all his other obligations, as vassal of his 
lord, for instance, are subject to the prior obligation to his sovereign. 
These rights are inseparable from sovereignty, for the alienation or 
delegation of any one of them destroys the sovereign.

From these premises Bodin was able to reach that conclusion that he was 
convinced must be established if any order was to be maintained anywhere. 
There is no right whatsoever in the subject of rebellion against the 
sovereign he had no part in instituting or of disobedience to the law he had 
no part in making [II, v]. So long as the king had been regarded as the 
embodiment of justice, the obligation to obey was conditional on the justice 
of the command. But once the king was conceived of as an absolute and 
independent power, the usual grounds of resistance were denied. At the same 
time Bodin wanted to establish a positive obligation to unconditional 
obedience. He did so by postulating that political authority was of divine 
institution. Natural and divine law oblige a man to obey the ruler set over 
him by God. Much as he might condemn tyranny, he would not allow that the 
cruellest of tyrants and the most unjust of laws may be resisted. The virtue 
of the citizen is the virtue of obedience.

So much does Bodin insist on power as the distinguishing mark of the state 
that he comes very near to saying that it is the existence of a sovereign 
that constitutes a state. He defines the state in terms of its government, 
'a rightly ordered government', and citizenship in terms of subjection, for 
it is not any rights which he may enjoy that make a man a citizen, but his 
subjection to a sovereign power [I, vi]. The identity of a state therefore 
depends on the identity of its sovereign [IV, i]. Every revolution, whether 
sudden or gradual, which results in the seat of sovereignty being changed 
involves the foundation of a new state, though laws and institutions remain 
without alteration. This happened when the slow growth of the power of the 
Princes converted Germany from a monarchy to an aristocracy. But no 
revolution in laws and institutions, such as the setting up of Lutheran 
churches in the Scandinavian states, creates a new commonwealth, if 
sovereignty remains in the same place. Bodin could not go quite so far as 
Hobbes and define the commonwealth as a number of individuals united solely 
by their individual subjection to a common power, for he thought of men as 
naturally sociable, and any association of men as based on mutual amity even 
more than on justice [III, vii]. But sharing Hobbes's acute fear of anarchy, 
he was possessed by the same conviction that the recognition of an absolute 
sovereign power was the only bulwark against it. Where there is no such 
power, there can be no political society. 

This insistence that effective power was the mark of the state does not mean 
however that Bodin was the exponent of power politics in the same sense that 
Machiavelli was. Nor could he have said with Hobbes that there is no 
distinction of right and wrong, just and unjust, until a sovereign makes 
laws creating such distinctions. As has already been shown, he included the 
idea of right, as well as of power, in his definition of the state. Though 
he distinguished law and equity, it was because of the difference in 
provenance. The one proceeds from the sovereign and the other from God. But 
in a rightly ordered society there should be no opposition between them; law 
should conform to equity. Starting as he did from the conception of an 
absolute moral order, he was necessarily emphatic that if the sovereign is 
absolute in relation to the subject, he is not so in relation to God. To 
God, as the author of his authority, he is in all things answerable. The 
sovereign is not therefore a law unto himself, but the instrument of divine 
law, bound to make his laws conform to its principles [I, viii]. From the 
point of view of the oppressed subject, this qualification of the absolute 
authority of the ruler would seem to be of no practical importance, since no 
human agent might appoint himself the executor of divine justice. But it was 
a qualification very generally accepted as of the first importance in the 
sixteenth century. In the next century it was writers such as Bossuet, or 
James I and Filmer, rather than Hobbes, who were Bodin's spiritual heirs in 
this respect.

Bodin however did not intend that the moral sanctions governing the exercise 
of sovereign power should be unreal. His insistence that the prince must act 
as the instrument of divine and natural law led him to make considerable 
qualifications of practical import in the absolutism of a monarch who 
governs as he should. It is sometimes said that Bodin's ideal was 
constitutional monarchy, because he advocated the summoning of Estates. It 
is not so much Estates however which he thought of as tempering the improper 
exercise of absolute power, for he thought their function purely 
consultative, but rather the unvarying rule of law based on equity.

This comes out very clearly when in book III he proceeds to analyse the 
essential structure of government, as a counterpart to his analysis of the 
essential structure of the state. The inclusion of the term 'rightly ordered 
government' in his definition of the commonwealth required such an 
investigation. For government to be efficiently, still more for it to be 
justly, conducted, three things are necessary, counsel, execution, and 
assent. The commonwealth should therefore be provided with a 'senate' or 
council with a constitutional right to advise the sovereign, a magistracy 
with legal rights of jurisdiction, and Estates which provide a means of 
communication between subjects and sovereign. A council and Estates are not 
however a necessary part of the government of the commonwealth. It is highly 
expedient, but not necessary, for the sovereign to act upon advice. He can 
act on his own unassisted judgement, and may choose to do so [III, i]. 
Again, the sovereign need not invite representations from his subjects, nor 
consult with them in matters of public interest. But again, it is highly 
expedient for him to do so. Emphatically as he rejected the doctrine that 
law and government derives from the community, he was fully aware of the 
practical value of consent in securing obedience. Estates provide the 
sovereign with the opportunity both of informing himself of grievances, and 
securing approval for proposed remedies. Such consultation is, however, a 
matter of policy and not obligation [I, viii and III, vii].

But the case of the magistrates is different. They are indispensable to the 
government of the commonwealth, for though the sovereign is the fountain of 
justice, he necessarily delegates the exercise of powers of jurisdiction. 
The law is his command, but it is not physically possible for him to enforce 
it personally throughout his dominions, or hear all the suits of all his 
subjects, without the magistrate as intermediary. It is on the magistrate 
rather than on the sovereign that the regular functioning of the 
commonwealth depends. Neither the will of the sovereign, nor the law, can 
come into operation until the magistrate gives it effect, or as Bodin says, 
brings it to life [III, v]. He implies that the magistrate has therefore a 
share in sovereign power, though a strictly subordinate one, for he is bound 
in obedience to his sovereign, and holds office during pleasure. But because 
of its indispensability to the functioning of a state, the office pertains 
to the commonwealth and not to the sovereign, who only has the right of the 
provision of persons; and when the magistrate is given discretionary powers, 
and is not bound to apply the letter of the law automatically, he does so in 
right of his office, and not simply as the agent of the sovereign. He 
therefore shares the sovereign's responsibility to divine and natural law, 
and is bound by the principles of equity in all his independent actions.

So Bodin sums up his account of the government of the commonwealth, 'a state 
cannot fail to prosper where the sovereign retains those rights proper to 
his majesty, the senate preserves its authority, the magistrates exercise 
their legitimate powers, and justice runs its ordinary course'. For a prince 
to govern in any other manner is for him to risk becoming a tyrant.

Perhaps an even more serious check on the arbitrary exercise of absolute 
power was the obligation of the sovereign to keep his 'covenants' with his 
subjects. Bodin deduces this obligation from the subjection of the prince to 
divine and natural law. By a 'covenant' he means any law which is the 
outcome of an agreement between the sovereign and his subjects. He gives as 
illustration the promises of redress of grievances, given to the Cortes by 
the Spanish kings on various occasions, in return for a grant of taxation. 
All such agreements he thought binding, and he distinguished them from the 
laws which proceed from the sole will of the prince and so can be abrogated 
by him at pleasure [I, viii]. Moreover his insistence that the prince may 
not tax without consent provides occasions tor the making of such covenants, 
as his example of the Spanish kings shows.

It is clear then that in a rightly ordered commonwealth, governed according 
to the principles of divine and natural law, there is necessarily an 
absolute power, but it should not function as an arbitrary one. Much as he 
learned from Machiavelli, he did not share his faith in the unfettered rule 
of men of ability. His ideal was a state in which, as Harrington would have 
said, there is the regiment of laws and not the regiment of men.

At the same time, though in the rightly ordered commonwealth there is the 
rule of law, divine, natural, and positive, a political society does not 
cease to be a true commonwealth if these conditions are violated. It is 
still a true commonwealth if it is characterized by a sovereign power. This 
becomes clear when Bodin turns from the consideration of the state to 
states, or the various forms in which the state can be embodied. Until the 
Italians started comparing the workings of despotisms and popular 
governments as they knew them in Italy, no one since ancient times had 
thought of analysing the forms that the state can take. It is true that in 
the later middle ages knowledge of the Politics familiarized scholars with 
Aristotle's six pure types. But since the speculations thus provoked had no 
roots in the practical politics of those times, nothing of importance was 
added to what Aristotle had to say. The Italians on the other hand confined 
themselves to the two types they knew, and did not attempt an exhaustive 
analysis of all possible forms. What is remarkable about Bodin's handling of 
the theme is that it is both exhaustive and freshly observed. He took the 
greatest care to find as exact a description as possible of the actual 
situation and therefore, based as it was on individual observation, there 
was nothing merely derivative in his account.

He started by reducing Aristotle's six types to three, monarchy, aristocracy 
and democracy. because, as he saw, if the existence of a sovereign power is 
the mark of a state, this is a matter of fact, and provides no criterion for 
distinguishing good and bad states. All that can be distinguished in fact is 
the location of sovereign power. With his eye on the actualities of the 
situation, he defined aristocracy not as the rule of the few, but the rule 
of a minority group, and democracy not as the rule of the many, but the rule 
of a majority of the whole body. The mixed constitution, so much admired by 
most of Aristotle's readers, especially in the sixteenth century, he 
rejected as impossible of existence. That which is absolute cannot be 
divided. An absolute power must be unique or it is no power at all [II, i].

Right as he might be in this respect, he would seem to have been sacrificing 
one great advantage. Constitutions, especially European constitutions, were 
very various. The supposition of mixed constitutions provided a formula for 
differentiating a great number of permutations and combinations. Bodin 
however solved the problem in another way. In the first place he made a 
distinction in the way sovereign power is exercised. Each type can operate 
tyrannically as a mere exercise of arbitrary power, regardless of the claims 
of justice or the rights of the subject. Or it can operate despotically as 
the rightful exercise of an arbitrary power over subjects conquered in a 
just war. Or it can operate legitimately in accordance with the principles 
of divine and natural law, safeguarding the inherent rights of subjects.

Bodin appears here to be doing what he had just said could not be done, 
distinguishing states by a standard of value and not simply by a matter of 
fact. It is not only that the terms 'tyrannical' and 'legitimate' imply 
condemnation in the one case and approval in the other. In the one the 
principles of divine and natural law, which are the mark of the rightly 
ordered government, are observed, and in the other they are not. Bodin would 
probably have answered that he is not here classing states according to the 
particular ends they pursue, but only according to the mode of their 
operation. Nevertheless one cannot get over the fact that another element 
than purely constitutional factors is brought in. It is a particular example 
of his tendency to mingle judgements of fact with judgements of value 
without distinguishing them.

Much more original was the distinction he made in the second place between 
the sovereign and the government, or machine through which the sovereign 
operates. Each of the three fundamental types of commonwealth can be 
provided with a form of government normally characteristic of one of the 
other two [II, ii]. By this test ancient Rome was a democracy governed 
aristocratically, and contemporary France, England, and Spain monarchies 
governed democratically. This analysis was, he claimed with justice, new. 
Moreover it was surely much more true to the facts than the old doctrine of 
mixed constitutions.

Bodin gave so much time and space to the meticulous examination of the 
structure of actual states because the ultimate purpose of his analysis was 
a practical one. He wanted to find out the secret of stability in a 
politically unstable world. Being a sixteenth-century Frenchman, and a 
patriot, his decision was inevitably in favour of monarchy [VI, iv]. The 
essential mark of sovereignty is the power to command, and commands, as he 
says, must proceed from a single will. Collective sovereignty belongs to the 
realm of ideas rather than of actualities, so that in times of crisis, when 
immediate and decisive action is necessary, all types of commonwealth tend 
to revert temporarily to monarchy by the institution of a dictatorship, or 
some such expedient. Moreover, since he rejected the necessity of consent to 
government, the important thing about government in his view is not that it 
should be approved, but that it should be well-advised. A king alone can 
consult whom he wills, and be governed by the advice of the wiser, and not 
just the more numerous part. Democracies where the opposite is true, and it 
is the opinion of the majority that prevails, he thought the least stable 
form of commonwealth because the majority of men include the ignorant, 
passionate, and gullible. Aristocracies he also thought insecure because 
perpetually threatened by dissensions, dissension between the governed and 
the governing class, and struggles for power within the governing class 
itself. Only in a monarchy are conditions to be found favourable to that 
alliance of unity with wisdom which makes the proper exercise of power 
possible.

Defects however can be mitigated, if not eliminated, if the form of the 
government is different from that of the commonwealth. The democratic Roman 
Republic lasted so long because governed aristocratically, in that office 
was largely confined to the patrician class. It was much vexed by civil 
strife, but it exhibited a measure of wisdom and discipline in the conduct 
of affairs which could not have been expected from the plebs, and which 
secured its long survival. But with the example of the three great western 
monarchies before his eyes, he was convinced that the most stable form is a 
monarchy governed democratically, that is to say where the king consults the 
estates, and all subjects are eligible to office, and it is not exclusive to 
any one class. Such a state has both the strength that comes from unity, and 
the strength that comes from common consent.

Not that Bodin thought that it was possible to establish at will those forms 
perceived to be the most stable. On the contrary he did not consider that 
the particular forms of states are a matter of human choice and contrivance 
at all, but rather the inevitable product of environment, or 'climate' as he 
calls it [V, i]. His doctrines were a deduction from still current medieval 
physiological theories about the close inter-relation of mind and body. 
Temperature and humidity determine physique, and physique determines mental 
and moral aptitudes. This being so it is obvious that the forms of law and 
government must also be shaped by these unalterable conditions. Rather 
surprisingly for so systematic a thinker he makes no attempt to bring his 
argument full circle, and work out a connection between the three climates 
he distinguished, frigid, temperate, and torrid, and the three fundamental 
types of commonwealth. It would have meant much forcing of the facts about 
the distribution of political forms in Europe to make them fit into a neat 
pattern of this sort. He preferred to leave these ends loose, and confined 
himself to such scattered observations as that the vigour and independence 
of mountain peoples, which comes from the severity of the climatic 
conditions, explain why the Swiss and the Florentines have developed 
democratic forms of government, whereas the more relaxing effect of damp and 
marshy country predispose Venetians to submit to the rule of an aristocracy.

Forms of government and of law must be judged therefore by relative and not 
by absolute standards. The savage penal code, and warlike policies 
appropriate to the physically vigorous, brave but stupid northern races are 
altogether unsuited to the delicate, timid, imaginative, and subtle 
southerner. Diplomacy is the effective weapon of their advancement. Bodin 
had said at the beginning of the Six books of the Commonwealth that no state 
pursues the good life absolutely, but always some particular and partial 
good. His doctrine of the influence of environment meant that it is in the 
nature of things that this should be so.

Here a modem reader would be satisfied that Bodin had made his point and 
need carry the argument no further. But Bodin meant by 'climate' something 
much more all-pervasive than temperature, humidity, and the he of the land, 
though he included all these things. When he subordinated the commonwealth 
to divine and natural law he did not only mean that its laws and its 
government ought to conform to a moral order. He also meant that it had its 
necessary place in a physical universe subject to invariable natural laws 
proceeding from God as first cause. It is only when his cosmological ideas 
are taken into consideration that the full significance of his relativist 
views on politics is to be appreciated.[4] His system was medieval, for he 
deliberately rejected Copernicus in the Novum Theatrum Naturae, and adhered 
to the traditional view based on Aristotle's physics. That system was 
necessarily astrological. If Aristotle's premises were accepted, first that 
the universe consists of a material core, the earth and its atmosphere, 
enclosed within an immaterial envelope, the heavens; and second, that matter 
is in itself inert and formless; it followed that its myriad forms, and the 
unceasing transmutation to which it is subject, must proceed from immaterial 
agents external to it. These agents can only be the stars. Their perpetual 
and complex revolutions in their circular orbits round the earth are the 
cause of all phenomena and all change of any kind. All things, from a grain 
of corn to a commonwealth, are moulded by the place and time of their 
occurrence, and their life-histories governed by the movement of the 
heavens. Hence his view of history as the record of recurrences. The 
historical process must be cyclic rather than evolutionary since it proceeds 
from the circular motion of the heavens.

It was therefore natural and inevitable that his treatment of history should 
seem from our point of view to lack perspective. He agreed with Machiavelli 
that history repeats itself: democracy in ancient Rome, or in the Forest 
Cantons of contemporary Switzerland was a manifestation of a fixed and 
constant type. But whereas Machiavelli derived his cyclic view of the 
historical process from his doctrine of the constancy of human nature, Bodin 
derived it from the recurrent pattern of events inherent in the cosmic 
process. It will be observed that Bodin's ideas about the relativity of laws 
and institutions have a spatial rather than a temporal reference. As one 
moves through space they differ, according to the different figure of the 
heavens enclosed within their horizon. But as one moves through time one 
keeps on coming upon the same phenomena, according as the stars repeat their 
revolutions.

This is not to say that he believed in an order of necessity in human 
affairs. The search for the principles of practical wisdom in politics which 
dominates so much of the Six books of the Commonwealth presupposes the 
opposite. Bodin held the orthodox view that the will, being immaterial, is 
free of those celestial forces that mould matter. If a man cannot change his 
environment and the influences to which he is subject, he can make the best 
or the worst of his situation. The increasing disorder of the world in which 
he lived convinced Bodin that statesmen were making the worst of it, largely 
through ignorance, and states, as do natural bodies, were perishing untimely 
from violent disorders.

Books IV and V therefore are devoted to the problem of the preservation of 
the commonwealth, or rather, of the sovereign power which is its 
constitutive principle. It takes the form of a discussion of revolutions, 
what induces them, and what precautions are necessary to avoid them, for it 
must be remembered that for Bodin a revolution which removes the seat of 
sovereignty involves the destruction of one state and the foundation of a 
new one. Bodin was always drawing conclusions about what ought to be done, 
but these two books are entirely devoted to the applied science of politics. 
He considers such questions as the laws governing the distribution of 
property [V, ii], the rules relating to eligibility for office and the terms 
of appointment [IV, iv], the attitude to be taken to political parties, or 
to professional and other associations of citizens [IV, vii and III, vii], 
or the best way of securing the state against attack [V, v]. He lays down a 
few rules of general application. Patrimonial estates should not be 
confiscated, whatever the needs of the exchequer [V, iii]. Divisions among 
citizens such as are embodied in political parties should never be 
encouraged, but peaceful associations such as trade-guilds should [III, 
vii]. Office should never be sold [V, iv].

But nearly all his conclusions are, as is to be expected, relative to the 
type of commonwealth to be preserved, for as he says, states of opposite 
tendencies require opposite policies. For instance, in a democracy office 
must be open to all and of short duration to preserve an even distribution 
of power by equal and rapid rotation. If this is not secured democracy 
perishes. By parity of argument in an aristocracy eligibility must be 
confined to the ruling class. In the case of monarchy, however, since it is 
not based on the rule of a class, the king can choose his officers where he 
will, and be guided solely by convenience in fixing the terms of 
appointment, long in subordinate positions where experience is useful, short 
in the high offices of state where long enjoyment of power makes a mere 
subject too mighty.

He owed much in these two books to a similar discussion in the Politics. But 
he was an independent observer of contemporary politics, and not only did he 
apply what Aristotle had to say to conditions in the sixteenth century, but 
recognized problems which did not exist for Aristotle. Aristotle suggested 
his treatment of the subject of tyranny. But such discussions as those on 
treatment of political factions, or the arming of the subject, derived from 
his own observation or reading. This preoccupation with contemporary 
problems is a result of his didactic intentions. As has been said already, 
he wished to remedy, not just analyse, the causes of disruption. He was 
addressing himself to statesmen, and there were two lessons he wished to 
impress on them. First, that just because a commonwealth is the outcome of 
circumstances, preconceived notions about how it should be governed are 
useless and even mischievous. The ruler must start with a thorough 
understanding of the particular situation with which he has to deal, since 
fundamentally he cannot change it. And second, having such knowledge of the 
situation, he must then know what experience has shown to be the appropriate 
way of dealing with it. 

The discussion of the means of preservation of the different kinds of 
commonwealth, when taken in conjunction with the initial account of the 
commonwealth as such, raises considerable difficulties. What ends did Bodin 
really think the state served? In book I it is said that it exists to 
promote the good and virtuous life for its citizens. A commonwealth is 
contrasted with a band of robbers, for one is based on justice and the other 
on violence. He also said that having determined the end, the means to its 
realization would then be considered. But the argument does not develop in 
this way. It is not means to the end of virtue in the citizen which are 
subsequently discussed, but means to the end of the preservation of the 
state, regardless of its character. 

He had of course pointed out in book I that a state must live before it can 
live well, and this concentration on the immediate problem of survival 
rather than on the ultimate purpose of the good life does not in itself 
create any difficulty. But he not only includes tyranny among the true types 
of commonwealth, but considers how it may best be preserved. Since tyranny 
is by definition that form of the commonwealth in which divine and natural 
law is set at defiance, it is difficult to see why he should have recognized 
it as a commonwealth while rejecting a robber-band, or how it is to be 
reconciled with the definition of the state as a rightly ordered government.

His inconclusiveness on this crucial point was a consequence of what was 
characteristic of much of his argument, a tendency to pass from a discussion 
of what is right to a discussion of what is necessary or expedient, without 
apparently being aware of the shift of ground. An example has already been 
noticed in his analysis of the fundamental types of commonwealth. Another is 
the criteria appealed to in determining the best form of commonwealth [VI, 
iv]. Or again, it is never quite clear whether he insisted on discipline 
because it was conducive to virtue, or because it was a condition of 
political stability. His hesitation arose from the fact that he saw the 
state in the first place as the possible, and only possible, instrument of 
the good life on earth. He also saw that to be this it must be an effective 
power. Thinking of what the state might be he gave it by definition a moral 
purpose. Thinking of how necessary it is, he accepted any effective 
organized power as a true state. The contradiction was never resolved. In 
the last analysis he thought any form of polity, however tyrannical, better 
than anarchy, just as he thought any system of beliefs, however crude and 
cruel, better than atheism. Therefore the preservation of some sort of state 
must in all circumstances be secured.

The whole work concludes with a chapter on justice. This would seem at first 
glance to be a return at the last to the theme of the rightly ordered 
commonwealth described at the beginning, as distinct from the efficiently 
governed one, which subsequently occupied his attention. In book I, when 
illustrating the partial aims of all particular states, he put Rome highest 
because her achievement was justice. The whole book therefore closes on the 
suggestion that the best realizable right order which actual states can hope 
to achieve is not the whole good of man, but that modest degree of it which 
is called justice. What he meant by the term is therefore of some 
importance.

In the earlier part of the Six books of the Commonwealth when he is 
discussing the commonwealth as such, he not infrequently uses the term 
'natural justice', without however explaining what he meant by it. The 
context generally suggests however that he meant respect for the rights of 
the subject to his liberty and property. In this last chapter on the other 
hand it is political justice and not natural that he is talking about. He 
had noticed the difference when he observed that Plato thought of justice as 
a philosopher and not as a jurist. In this last chapter Bodin is speaking as 
a jurist. He defines it in legal terms, as the principle upon which rewards 
and punishments are distributed in the commonwealth, that is to say the 
working of the criminal law, and the administration. But whereas natural 
justice is presumably in his view constant and universal, here the proper 
order of justice is relative to the type of commonwealth. Commutative 
justice, or the strictly equal distribution of honours and penalties 
preserves a democracy but would destroy an aristocracy. Conversely 
distributive justice, or award in accordance with the quality of persons, 
safeguards an aristocracy but would corrupt a democracy. In a monarchy where 
a more elastic social system is possible than in either of the other two 
types, since in it classes are at once distinguished and yet not mutually 
exclusive, harmonic justice is the appropriate form since by it honours are 
given not in accordance with the status of persons, but with their 
particular suitability [VI, vi].

This treatment of the theme of justice, therefore, does not really bring the 
argument back to the state considered as the instrument of the good life. It 
is true that justice here means right order in the commonwealth, but it is 
the right order that preserves it as a type, rather than any embodiment of 
universal moral principles. As he said, states must live before they can 
live well, and the discussion in book IV of the causes of revolution made it 
clear that they do not find it so easy to live. The whole work ends on this 
note, how may their survival be assured.

However, the theme of book I, that the state exists to promote virtue in its 
citizens, is not completely lost sight of, and at one point in the final 
book he returns to the problem of the pursuit of higher ends. Every state, 
he says, ought to undertake the moral discipline of its citizens, such as 
was exercised in pagan Rome by the censors. In the modem state he regarded 
it as the function of priests and ministers of religion, [VI, i]. The Church 
has a duty and a place within the state. It is clear that when he included 
true religion in that total good which it is the state's purpose to promote, 
he did not only mean that the prince should free the practice of one's 
beliefs from legal restrictions. He also meant that the clergy have a 
necessary function in the disciplining of the citizen. They are not however 
solely responsible for this discipline. It is a duty incumbent on the 
sovereign to use such opportunities as he has to the same end. Surprisingly 
enough he thought the proper management of taxation a suitable means. In 
spite of the chronic inadequacy of the revenues in France in his day, he 
clung to the conviction that the king ought to be able to 'live of his own', 
and that taxes were an extraordinary expedient which ought never to be 
allowed to establish themselves as an ordinary source of revenue. 
Nevertheless, he had to recognize that there are crises for which the 
ordinary revenues do not suffice. On such occasions, when taxes must be 
imposed, they should be on luxury articles, not because that involves taxing 
the rich and the rich should pay, or because it is economically sound, but 
because the most effective way of checking self-indulgence and vicious 
habits is to make them expensive [VI, ii].

As has been shown, the Six books of the Commonwealth was an immediate 
success, and a much read book for about fifty years after its appearance. 
Nevertheless from Bodin's point of view it was perhaps only a partial 
success. Although his doctrine of the relativity of political institutions 
has attracted much attention in present times, Bodin wholly failed to 
impress his contemporaries as a student of politics. Rulers did not carry 
round a copy of his book as they were reported to do with the Prince. Apart 
from its immense length, it was not very digestible. The form is repellent 
to all except the determined reader. Bodin buried his conclusions under a 
mass of evidence and long scholarly discussions of its interpretation. The 
presentation was formal and elaborate in an old-fashioned way. The chapters 
were very long, unparagraphed, and with few marginal headings to indicate 
the succession of subjects of discussion. Emphatically, not the sort of 
reading that men of affairs take up. He was read by people whose interest in 
politics was speculative rather than practical. What attracted them was his 
doctrine of sovereignty, his analysis of forms, and his defence of monarchy. 
Everyone writing after Bodin, by direct or indirect influence, repeats what 
he has to say in whole or in part on these subjects. Hobbes, the royalist 
writers, and Locke all assume that the essence of sovereignty is the 
authority to make law, and attribute to the sovereign the powers which he 
does. Hobbes takes over his analysis of essential forms, the royalists his 
defence of monarchy on grounds of expediency, and Filmer repeats the whole 
comparative discussion of the characteristics of each form. Even Harrington, 
who belonged to the school of thought that Bodin rejected, and ascribed 
final authority to the people, analysed government into the senate 
proposing, the magistrate executing, and the people resolving. This part of 
his book was indeed almost too convincing. Once his doctrine of sovereignty 
was accepted as common form, his book was no longer kept alive by being a 
subject of controversy. On the other hand the later part suffered from the 
opposite disadvantage, neglect. His scholarly readers were not so interested 
in the discussion of means as of ends. Moreover the fact that he based his 
doctrine of environment on a cosmological system which was on the point of 
being abandoned at the very time he was writing probably contributed to the 
oblivion which was the fate of this part of his work. Montesquieu could 
claim that the Esprit des Lois was a work which had no parentage.

It was a long time before anyone else attempted to survey so immense a field 
of political experience, and to carry any further his enquiry into the 
meaning of the variety of political forms and institutions in all places and 
at all times. No one, not even Montesquieu, emulated the grandeur of his 
design. One had to be as near the middle ages in time, and in spirit, as 
Bodin was, to think and write of the state in relation to the cosmic 
process, at once rooted in it and reflecting it. He concluded his defence of 
monarchy with the same argument as Dante and his kind had used. The 
microcosm should reflect the macrocosm, and thus. since the universe is 
subject to the sole and sovereign majesty of God, so the commonwealth should 
be subject to the sole and sovereign majesty of the prince [VI, iv].

The Six books of the Commonwealth marks the transition from specifically 
medieval to specifically modem ways of political thinking. It at once 
recorded that process and assisted its accomplishment. His scholarship 
combined the methods of the old learning with the interests of the new. He 
asked new questions because he perceived new problems. He recognized the 
emergence of the state as the all-important and all-powerful instrument of 
men's fate. But he could not, as could Machiavelli, rid himself of the 
belief in a universal order of absolute values, in which the state still had 
a place. His book is all the more interesting because the transition is not 
perfectly accomplished. This comes out in his inability to make a clear 
separate of right and fact. He could neither say consistently with the 
schoolmen, let us consider things as they ought to be if the purposes of God 
are to be accomplished, or with Machiavelli, let us consider things as they 
must be if men are to have what they desire. Because he was an acute and 
original observer he was able to analyse the state, its marks, its types, 
its functions, with clarity. But it is not finally clear whether he still 
thought its purpose was to make men good by acting as the instrument of a 
higher law, or had begun to think it existed in its own right to afford them 
security.

TRANSLATOR'S NOTE

AN abridgment of an important work, to be justified, must preserve not only 
the whole of the essential argument, but also its characteristic 
proportions. Closely argued and economically written books are therefore not 
susceptible of such treatment without suffering loss or distortion. The Six 
books of the Commonwealth, however, is marked by great elaboration because 
of the method of demonstration. Bodin's aim to construct a universal science 
of politics by surveying all the relevant facts and opinions required that 
this survey should be exhaustive. He tried to make it so. The definition of 
a citizen is only established after all the descriptions he knew have been 
discussed, and tested by reference to the facts. An observation on the 
instability of Florentine politics leads to a recital of the whole course of 
the city's history from the middle of the thirteenth century -- and so on 
and so forth. If one is treating the Six books of the Commonwealth as a 
document of sixteenth-century scholarship, none of this material can be 
jettisoned. But if it is taken as a book on political science much of it 
can, for it is not all necessary to the development of the argument. On the 
contrary, the very wealth of this illustration gives an impression of 
confusion that Bodin does not deserve. His book is in fact carefully planned 
as a whole, and however long his parentheses, he always returns to the 
argument at the point where he broke off. If much of this illustrative 
material is discarded the main shape of the argument emerges clearly and 
coherently. This has been the principle of selection in this abridged 
version, though sufficient reference to past and present political 
actualities has been preserved to show how he established his conclusions.

Bodin's prose is not easy to translate. The problem is partly one of style 
and partly one of vocabulary. His sentences are long, elaborate, loosely 
constructed and elliptical. It would take a Sir Thomas Hoby to convey their 
quality. No attempt has been made to do this, but only to convey the sense. 
Though the result may make easier reading, much of the weightiness and force 
of the original is inevitably lost. But no translation, however inadequate, 
could fail to preserve one characteristic of the original, and that is the 
sound of a voice arguing, for this is not just a matter of style, of the way 
Bodin writes, but of the way he thinks. Difficulties over his vocabulary 
arise because it was designed to express the actualities of 
sixteenth-century politics, especially in France, and where there are no 
English counterparts, it is hard to find English equivalents. The 
distinction he makes between cit?and rpublique for instance describes the 
situation in France but bears no relation to conditions of English political 
organization. In case of such special difficulties a note has been added. 
Rpublique has been translated commonwealth to avoid the suggestion of a 
specific form of constitution that republic conveys in English.

Footnotes have been kept to a minimum. Bodin's method of demonstration 
involves constant reference to the literature of law, philosophy, and 
history. It has been assumed that his classical and biblical references need 
no elucidation. Only his references to the more obscure incidents of 
contemporary politics have been explained, for here his encyclopaedic 
reading had made him familiar with the bye-ways that are not common 
knowledge. Discussion of his accuracy in using his sources must however lie 
outside the scope of a book in which only fragments of them are 
incorporated.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Texts.

A collected edition of Bodin's works is in preparation. Jean Bodin. OEuvres 
philosophiques, texte tabli, traduit, et publi?par P. Mesnard (Corpus 
gnral des philosophes franais). Of this series the first volume has 
appeared, Methodus ad facilem historiarum cognitionem (Paris, 1951). (This 
is prefaced by the most recent biography.)

For the Six books of the Commonwealth only sixteenth- and 
seventeenth-century editions are at present available. An abridged version 
by J. C. de Laire was published in 1755. Authorities.

H. J. L. Baudrillart, Jean Bodin et son temps (Paris, 1853). R. Chauvir? 
Jean Bodin, auteur de la Rpublique (Paris, 1914). E. Hancke, Bodin. Studien 
ber die Begrijf der Souvernitat (Breslau, 1894). A. Garosci, Jean Bodin, 
Politica e diritto nel rinascimento francese (Milano, 1934).

E. Fournol, Bodin, prdcesseur de Montesquieu (Paris, 1896). J. 
Moreau-Reibel, Jean Bodin et le droit public compar?dans ses rapports avec 
la philosophie d'histoire (Paris, 1933). B. Reynolds, Proponents of limited 
monarchy in sixteenth century France.

Franois Hotman and Jean Bodin (Columbia University Studies in History, No, 
334). (New York, 1931). See also:

J. W. Allen, Political Thought in the Sixteenth Century (London, 1928). P. 
Mesnard, L'Essor de la philosophic politique au 16?sicle (Paris, 1936). G. 
H. Sabine, A History of Political Theory (London, 1937). G. Weill, Les 
thories sur le pouvoir royal en France pendant les guerres de religion 
(Paris, 1891).



1. This is most easily consulted in the translation by B. Reynolds (Columbia 
University Records of Civilization), New York, 1945.

2. This was first published, in an incomplete form, by Guhrauer in 1841. L. 
Noack published a complete version, Colloquium Heptaplomeres lie abditis 
rerum sublimium arcanis (Schwerin, 1857). An incomplete French version was 
published by R. Chauvir?in 1914.

3. P. Dufy. Michel de L'Hpital: OEuvres compltes (Paris, 1824-26), Vol. 
I, No. 4.

4. For a fuller account of this relationship, see my article, 'Jean Bodin 
and the medieval theory of climate', in Speculum, Vol. XXVIII, No 1, Jan. 
1953.

____________

BOOK I

The Final End of the Well-ordered Commonwealth [CHAPTER I]

A COMMONWEALTH may be defined as the rightly ordered government of a number 
of families, and of those things which are their common concern, by a 
sovereign power. We must start in this way with a definition because the 
final end of any subject must first be understood before the means of 
attaining it can profitably be considered, and the definition indicates 
what that end is. If then the definition is not exact and true, all that is 
deduced from it is valueless. One can, of course, have an accurate 
perception of the end, and yet lack the means to attain it, as has the 
indifferent archer who sees the bull's-eye but cannot hit it. With care and 
attention however he may come very near it, and provided he uses his best 
endeavours, he will not be without honour, even if he cannot find the exact 
centre of the target. But the man who does not comprehend the end, and 
cannot rightly define his subject, has no hope of finding the means of 
attaining it, any more than the man who shoots at random into the air can 
hope to hit the mark.

Let us consider more particularly the terms of this definition. We say in 
the first place right ordering to distinguish a commonwealth from a band of 
thieves or pirates. With them one should have neither intercourse, commerce, 
nor alliance. Care has always been taken in well-ordered commonwealths not 
to include robber-chiefs and their followers in any agreements in which 
honour is pledged, peace treated, war declared, offensive or defensive 
alliances agreed upon, frontiers defined, or the disputes of princes and 
sovereign lords submitted to arbitration, except under the pressure of an 
absolute necessity. Such desperate occasions however do not come within the 
bounds of normal conventions. The law has always distinguished robbers and 
pirates from those who are recognized to be enemies legitimately at war, in 
that they are members of some commonwealth founded upon that principle of 
justice that brigands and pirates seek to subvert. For this reason brigands 
cannot claim that the conventions of war, recognized by all peoples, should 
be observed in their case, nor are they entitled to those guarantees that 
the victors normally accord to the vanquished. ...

It is true that we see brigands living amicably and sociably together, 
sharing the spoil fairly among themselves. Nevertheless the terms amity, 
society, share cannot properly be used of such associations. They should 
rather be called conspiracies, robberies, and spoliations. Such associations 
lack that which is the true mark of a community, a rightly ordered 
government in accordance with the laws of nature. This is why the ancients 
define a commonwealth as a society of men gathered together for the good and 
happy life. This definition however falls short on the one hand, and goes 
beyond the mark on the other. It omits the three principal elements of a 
commonwealth, the family, sovereign power, and that which is of common 
concern, while the term 'happy', as they understood it, is not essential. 
If it were, the good life would depend on the wind always blowing fair, a 
conclusion no right-thinking man would agree to. A commonwealth can be 
well-ordered and yet stricken with poverty, abandoned by its friends, beset 
by its enemies, and brought low by every sort of misfortune. Cicero saw 
this happen to the city of Marseilles in Provence, yet he thought it the 
best-ordered and most civilized city, without exception, of any in the 
world. On the same showing the commonwealth that is well-situated, wealthy, 
populous, respected by its allies, feared by its enemies, invincible in 
war, impregnable, furnished with splendid buildings, and of great 
reputation, must be considered well-ordered, even if given over to every 
wickedness and abandoned to vicious habits. But there is surely no more 
fatal enemy to virtue than worldly success of this sort, fortunate as it is 
accounted to be, for they are contraries not to be reconciled. Therefore we 
do not include the term 'happy' as an essential term in our definition. We 
aim higher in our attempt to attain, or at least approximate, to the true 
image of a rightly ordered government. Not that we intend to describe a 
purely ideal and unrealizable commonwealth, such as that imagined by Plato, 
or Thomas More the Chancellor of England. We intend to confine ourselves as 
far as possible to those political forms that are practicable. We cannot 
therefore be blamed if we do not succeed in describing the state which is 
rightly ordered absolutely, any more than the pilot, blown out of his course 
by a storm, or the doctor defeated by a mortal disease, is to be blamed, 
provided he has managed his ship or his patient in the right way. 

The conditions of true felicity are one and the same for the commonwealth 
and the individual. The sovereign good of the commonwealth in general, and 
of each of its citizens in particular lies in the intellective and 
contemplative virtues, for so wise men have determined. It is generally 
agreed that the ultimate purpose, and therefore sovereign good, of the 
individual, consists in the constant contemplation of things human, natural, 
and divine. If we admit that this is the principal purpose whose fulfilment 
means a happy life for the individual, we must also conclude that it is the 
goal and the condition of well-being in the commonwealth too. Men of the 
world and princes however have never accepted this, each measuring his own 
particular well-being by the number of his pleasures and satisfactions. Even 
those who have agreed that the sovereign good of the individual is 
contemplation, have not always agreed that the good of the individual and 
good of the commonwealth are identical, and that to be a good man is also to 
be a good citizen. For this reason there has always been a great variety of 
laws, customs, and policies attendant on the desires and passions of princes 
and governors. Since however the wise man is the measure of justice and of 
truth, and those reputed wise have always agreed that the end of the 
individual and the end of the commonwealth are one, without distinction of 
the good man and the good citizen, we also must conclude that contemplation 
is the end and form of the good to which the government of the commonwealth 
should be directed.

Aristotle was not always consistent in what he had to say on the subject. 
At times he compromised with the views of various people, coupling now 
riches, now power, now health, with virtue, in order to take into account 
commonly received opinions. But in moments of greatest insight he made 
contemplation the height of felicity. It may have been similar 
considerations which prompted Marcus Varro to say that human felicity 
springs from the union of action and contemplation. To my mind this is so, 
because whereas the well-being of a simple organism may be simple in 
character, that of a dual organism, composed of diverse elements, must 
itself be of a dual nature. The well-being of the body comes from health, 
strength, vigour, and the beauty of well-proportioned members. The 
well-being of the active principle of the soul, which is the link between 
body and soul, consists in the subordination of appetite to reason, in other 
words, the exercise of the moral virtues. The well-being of the intellective 
part of the soul lies in the intellectual virtues of prudence, knowledge, 
and faith. By the first we distinguish good and evil, by the second truth 
and falsehood, and by the third piety and impiety, and what is to be sought 
and what avoided. These are the sum of true wisdom, which is the highest 
felicity attainable in this world.

If one turns from the microcosm to the macrocosm, it follows by parity of 
argument that the commonwealth should have a territory which is large 
enough, and sufficiently fertile and well stocked, to feed and clothe its 
inhabitants. It should have a mild and equable climate, and an adequate 
supply of good water for health. If the geography of the country is not in 
itself its best defence, it should have sites capable of fortification 
against the danger of attack. These are the basic needs which are the first 
objects of concern in all commonwealths. These secured, one looks for such 
luxuries as minerals, medicinal plants, and dyes. Offensive weapons must 
also be provided if one would extend one's frontiers and subjugate the 
enemy, for the appetites of men being for the most part insatiable, they 
desire to secure great abundance not only of what is necessary and useful, 
but of what is pleasant merely, and redundant. But just as one does not 
think of educating a child until it is grown and capable of instruction, so 
commonwealths do not concern themselves with the moral and mental sciences, 
still less with philosophy, till they are amply furnished with all that they 
regard as necessities. They are contented to cultivate that modest degree of 
prudence which is sufficient for the defence of the state against its 
enemies, the prevention of disorders among its subjects, and the reparation 
of injuries.

A man of good disposition however who finds himself well provided with the 
necessities and comforts of life, secure and at peace, turns away from 
unworthy companions and seeks the society of wise and virtuous men. When he 
has purged his soul of troubling passions and desires, he is free to give 
his attention to observing his fellows, and interests himself in the 
difference that age and temperament makes between them, the causes of the 
greatness of some and the failure of others, and of the fluctuations of 
states. From men he turns to the contemplation of nature, and considers the 
great chain of being, minerals, plants, and animals in their hierarchical 
order, the forms, qualities, and virtues of all generated things, and their 
mutual attractions and repulsions. From the world of material things he 
moves forward to the contemplation of the immaterial world of the heavens, 
where the splendour, beauty, and power of the stars is manifested in their 
proud, remote, and majestic movements, comprehending the whole universe in a 
single harmony. The ecstasy of this vision inspires him with a perpetual 
longing to penetrate to the first cause and author of this perfect 
creation. But there he must pause, for the greatness, the power, the wisdom, 
and goodness of the Supreme Being, being infinite, must for ever remain 
inscrutable in its essence. By such a progression a wise and thoughtful man 
reaches the concept of the one infinite and eternal God, and thereby as it 
were attains the true felicity of mankind. 

If such a man is adjudged both wise and happy, so also will be the 
commonwealth which has many such citizens, even though it be neither large 
nor rich, for in it the pomps and vanities of proud citizens, given over to 
pleasure, are contemned. But it must not be assumed from this account that 
felicity comes from a confusion of many elements. Man is made up of a mortal 
body and an immortal soul, but his final good pertains to the more noble 
part of himself... For though those activities such as eating and drinking 
by which life is supported are necessary, no thoughtful man finds in them 
his sovereign good. The habit of good deeds is of the first importance, for 
the soul that is not illumined and purified by the moral virtues cannot 
enjoy the fruits of contemplation. The moral virtues are therefore ordained 
to the intellectual. Felicity cannot be found in that imperfect state in 
which there is still some good yet to be realized; that which is less noble 
is ordained to that which is more noble as its final end, body to spirit, 
spirit to intellect, appetite to reason, living to right living. Therefore 
when Varro found felicity in both contemplation and action, he would have 
done better, in my opinion, to have said that a man has need of both action 
and contemplation in this life, but that bis sovereign good lies in 
contemplation. Nevertheless it is certain that a commonwealth is not rightly 
ordered which neglects altogether, or even for any length of time, mundane 
activities such as the administration of justice, the defence of the 
subject, the provision of the necessary means of subsistence, any more than 
a man whose soul is so absorbed in contemplation that he forgets to eat and 
drink can hope to live long. ...

The same principles hold good for the well-ordered commonwealth. It is 
ordained to the contemplative virtues as its final end, and those things 
which are least in order of dignity come first in order of necessity. Those 
material things necessary to the sustenance and defence of the subject must 
first be secured. Nevertheless such activities are ordained to moral 
activities, and moral activities to intellectual, or the contemplation of 
the noblest subjects within the scope of men's imaginations. Thus we see 
that God allotted six days for all those labours to which the greater part 
of man's life is dedicated. But He ordained that these labours should cease 
on the seventh day, and He blessed it above all other days as the holy day 
of rest, so that men might then have leisure to contemplate His works, His 
law, and His glory. Such is the final end of well-ordered commonwealths, and 
they are the more happy the more nearly they come to realizing it. For just 
as there are degrees of felicity among men, so are there among 
commonwealths, some greater, some less, in accordance with the end which 
each sets out to attain. It was said of the Spartans that they were 
courageous and magnanimous, but for the rest unjust and perfidious, if they 
could thereby further the public interest. The sole purpose of their laws, 
their customs, their institutions was to make men brave and indifferent to 
hardship and pain, contemptuous of ease and pleasure, and totally devoted to 
the state. The Roman Republic on the other hand was distinguished for its 
justice, and surpassed that of the Spartans, for its citizens were not only 
magnanimous, but justice was the mainspring of all their actions.

In treating of the commonwealth we must therefore try and find means whereby 
it may come as near as possible to realizing the felicity we have described, 
and conforming to the definition we have postulated. Let us continue with 
the terms of the definition and pass on to the family.

Concerning the Family [CHAPTERS II-V]

A FAMILY may be defined as the right ordering of a group of persons owing 
obedience to a head of a household, and of those interests which are his 
proper concern. The second term of our definition of the commonwealth refers 
to the family because it is not only the true source and origin of the 
commonwealth, but also its principal constituent. Xenophon and Aristotle 
divorced economy or household management from police or disciplinary power, 
without good reason to my mind ... I understand by domestic government the 
right ordering of family matters, together with the authority which the head 
of the family has over his dependants, and the obedience due from them to 
him, things which Aristotle and Xenophon neglect. Thus the well-ordered 
family is a true image of the commonwealth, and domestic comparable with 
sovereign authority. It follows that the household is the model of right 
order in the commonwealth. And just as the whole body enjoys health when 
every particular member performs its proper function, so all will be well 
with the commonwealth when families are properly regulated.

We have said that a commonwealth is the rightly ordered government of a 
number of families and of those matters which are their common concern, by a 
sovereign power. The phrase a number cannot mean just two, for the law 
requires at least three persons to constitute a college, and the same 
number to constitute a family in addition to its head, whether they be his 
children, slaves, freedmen, or free dependants who have voluntarily 
submitted to his authority. He is the fourth member of the group. 
Furthermore, since households, colleges and corporate bodies of all sorts, 
commonwealths, and indeed the whole human race would perish unless 
perpetuated from generation to generation, no family is complete without the 
wife, who is therefore called the mother of the family. By this reckoning, a 
minimum of five persons is required to constitute a family. I think this is 
the reason why ancient writers, such as Apuleius, said that fifteen persons 
could become a political community, meaning by that three complete 
households. Otherwise, even if the head of the family had three hundred 
wives and six hundred children, like Hermotinus, King of Parthia, or five 
hundred slaves like Crassus, if all these persons were a single household 
under the authority of a single head, they would not constitute either a 
political community or a commonwealth, but only a family. ...

The law says that the people never dies, but that after the lapse of a 
hundred or even a thousand years it is still the same people. The 
presumption is that although all individuals alive at any one moment will be 
dead a century later, the people is immortal by succession of persons, as 
was Theseus' ship which lasted as long as pains were taken to repair it. But 
a ship is no more than a load of timber unless there is a keel to hold 
together the ribs, the prow, the poop and the tiller. Similarly a 
commonwealth without sovereign power to unite all its several members, 
whether families, colleges, or corporate bodies, is not a true commonwealth. 
It is neither the town nor its inhabitants that makes a city state, but 
their union under a sovereign ruler, even if they are only three households. 
Just as the mouse is as much numbered among animals as is the elephant, so 
the rightly ordered government of only three households, provided they are 
subject to a sovereign authority, is just as much a commonwealth as a great 
empire. The principality of Ragusa, which is one of the smallest in Europe, 
is no less a commonwealth than the empires of the Turks and the Tartars, 
which are among the greatest in the world. ...

But besides sovereign power there must also be something enjoyed in common 
such as the public domain, a public treasury, the buildings used by the 
whole community, the roads, walls, squares, churches, and markets, as well 
as the usages, laws, customs, courts, penalties, and rewards which are 
either shared in common or of public concern. There is no commonwealth where 
there is no common interest... It is not desirable however that all things, 
including women and children, should be possessed in common as Plato 
advocated in his Republic. His intention was to banish from the city the 
words 'mine' and 'thine', since he thought them the cause of all the 
misfortunes and disasters that befall commonwealths. He forgot that even if 
this could be achieved, then the peculiar mark of a commonwealth would be 
lost. For nothing could properly be regarded as public if there were 
nothing at all to distinguish it from what was private. Nothing can be 
thought of as shared in common, except by contrast with what is privately 
owned. If all citizens were kings there would be no king. There can be no 
harmony if the subtle combination of various chords, which is the charm of 
harmony, is reduced to a monotone. Moreover such a commonwealth would be 
directly contrary to the law of God and of nature, for that law not only 
condemns the incests, adulteries, and parricides which would be the 
inevitable consequence of women being possessed in common, but forbids 
theft, or even the mere coveting of that which is the private possession of 
another. We see therefore that commonwealths were ordained of God to the end 
that men should render to the community that which is required in the public 
interest, and to each individual that which is proper to him. ...

It is of course possible for all the subjects of a commonwealth to live in 
common, as did the Cretans and the Spartans in ancient times... or as the 
Anabaptists attempted to do when they founded their community in the city of 
Mnster. They ruled that all things should be possessed in common save only 
women and personal belongings, thinking this would promote amity and mutual 
concord. They soon discovered their mistake however. So far from 
accomplishing what they expected, and banishing quarrels and animosities, 
they destroyed affection between husband and wife, and the love of parents 
for their children, the reverence of children for their parents, and the 
goodwill of parents towards one another.[1] Such are the consequences of 
ignoring the tie of blood, the strongest bond there is. It is common 
knowledge that no one feels any very strong affection for that which is 
common to all. Common possession brings in its train all sorts of quarrels 
and antagonisms. They deceive themselves who think that persons and property 
possessed in common will be much cared for, for it may be observed 
everywhere, that those things which are public property are habitually 
neglected, unless someone calculates that he may extract some private 
advantage from looking after them. The proper organization of the household 
requires the separation and distinction of the goods, the women, the 
children, and servants, of one family from another, and that which pertains 
to each from that which is common to all, or in other words pertains to the 
public good. ...

So much for the difference and the resemblance that there is between the 
family and the commonwealth in general. Let us now consider the members of 
the family. The government of all commonwealths, colleges, corporate bodies, 
or households whatsoever, rests on the right to command on one side, and the 
obligation to obey on the other, which arises when the natural liberty which 
each man has to live as he chooses, is exercised subject to the power of 
another. The right to command another is either of a public or a private 
character; public when vested in a sovereign who declares the law, or in the 
magistrate who executes it, and issues orders binding on his subordinates 
and private citizens generally; private when vested in heads of households, 
or in the collective authority which colleges and corporate bodies exercise 
over their particular members, or the minority of the whole body. Authority 
in the family rests on the fourfold relationship between husband and wife, 
father and child, master and servant, owner and slave. And since the 
rightful government of any society, public or private, depends on a proper 
understanding of how to command and how to obey, we will consider the 
household in the order described. 

We understand by natural liberty the right under God to be subject to no man 
living and amenable only to those commands which are self-imposed, that is 
to say the commands of right reason conformable to the will of God. The 
first of all commandments was the commandment to subordinate animal appetite 
to reason, for before a man can govern others he must learn to govern 
himself, surrendering to reason the power of direction, and schooling the 
appetites to obedience. In this way each man will achieve that which truly 
pertains to his nature, which is the original and purest form of justice. 
The Hebrews expressed this proverbially in their saying 'Charity begins at 
home', meaning that one should subordinate appetite to reason in accordance 
with the first express commandment of God, laid upon him who killed his 
brother. The commandment that He had given the husband to rule over his wife 
has a double significance, first in the literal sense of marital authority, 
and second in the moral sense of the soul over the body, and the reason over 
concupiscence, which the Scriptures always identify with the woman. ...

From the moment a marriage is consummated the woman is subject to her 
husband, unless he is still living as a dependant in his father's house. 
Neither slaves nor other dependants have any authority over their wives, 
still less over their children. They are all subject to the head of the 
family until such time as he shall have given his married son his 
independence. No household can have more than one head, one master, one 
seigneur. If there were more than one head there would be a conflict of 
command and incessant family disturbances... wherefore a woman marrying a 
man still living in his father's house is subject to her father-in-law. ...

By a law of Romulus the husband was not only given full authority over his 
wife but could without any formal process of law take her life on four 
occasions, when she was taken in adultery, for substituting a child not his 
own, for having duplicate keys, or for being habitually drunk ... In order 
to show how general among all people has been this subjection of women, I 
will add two or three examples. We read that by the laws of the Lombards 
wives were held in the same subjection as had been customary among the 
ancient Romans, and their husbands had a power of life and death over them 
that they were still exercising when Baldus was writing, only two hundred 
and sixty years ago. As for our ancestors, the Gauls, nowhere in the world 
have husbands enjoyed a more absolute power than among them. Caesar makes 
this clear in his Memoirs when he says that they had the same absolute power 
of life and death over their wives and children as over their slaves. ...

With regard to divorce, the law of God permitted the husband to repudiate 
his wife, if she did not please him, on condition that he never took her 
back, but married another. This was at one time a custom common to all 
peoples, and is still practised in Africa and throughout the East. It was a 
means of humbling proud wives, while the knowledge that he had repudiated 
one wife without sufficient provocation made it difficult for an exacting 
husband to find another. If it is objected that it does not seem right that 
a man should be able to repudiate his wife without giving any reason, I 
appeal to the common usage in the matter. There is nothing more ill-advised 
than to compel two people to go on living together unless they are willing 
to publish the reason for the separation that they desire. The honour of 
both parties is at stake, whereas it is safeguarded if no reason has to be 
alleged. ...

However great the variety, and subsequent changes in law, it has never been 
customary anywhere to exempt wives from the obedience, and even the 
reverence which they owe their husbands ... Therefore in all systems of law 
the husband is regarded as the master of his wife's actions, and entitled 
to the usufruct of any property she may have, while the wife cannot come 
into the courts either as plaintiff or defendant save with the consent of 
her husband, or should he withhold it, the permission of the magistrate. The 
power, authority, and command that a husband has over his wife is allowed by 
both divine and positive law to be honourable and right. I know that in 
marriage alliances and settlements clauses are sometimes included exempting 
the wife from subjection to her husband. But such stipulations cannot 
detract from the authority of the husband, for they are contrary to both 
divine and positive law, as well as to the public interest. They are 
therefore invalid, and oaths to observe them cannot in consequence bind the 
husband.

The rightly ordered government of a father over his children lies first in 
the proper exercise of that power which God gives to a father over his 
natural children, and the law over his adopted ones, and second in the 
obedience, love, and reverence that children owe their father. Authority 
properly belongs to all those who have recognized power to command another. 
So, says Seneca, the prince commands his subjects, the magistrate the 
citizens, the master his pupils, the captain his soldiers, and the lord his 
slaves. But of all these there is none that has a natural right to command 
save only the father, who is the image of Almighty God, the Father of all 
things. Therefore Plato, having first defined the laws which touch the 
honour of God, speaks of them as an introduction to the reverence that a son 
owes his father, from whom, after God, he draws his life and all he may 
expect to enjoy in this world. And just as nature impels the father to 
foster his child so long as he is defenceless, and educate him in honourable 
and virtuous principles, so the child is prompted, and by an even stronger 
impulse, to love, honour, serve, and care for his father, to be obedient to 
his commands, support him, protect him, conceal all his infirmities and 
imperfections, and to spare neither goods nor life to preserve the life of 
him from whom he draws his own. This obligation is obvious, and founded in 
nature. But if one wishes further proof, one has only to remember that it 
was the first commandment in the second table of the law, and the only one 
of the ten commandments of the Decalogue that carried with it any promise of 
reward, for it is not usual to reward one who simply does that which he is 
under a strict obligation to do by both divine and positive law. Conversely 
we find the first curse recorded in Scripture was the curse laid on Ham for 
not concealing his father's shame. ...

In any rightly ordered commonwealth, that power of life and death over 
their children which belongs to them under the law of God and of nature, 
should be restored to parents. This most primitive of customs was observed 
in ancient times by the Persians, and people of Asia generally, by the 
Romans and the Celts; it was also recognized throughout the New World till 
the time of the Spanish conquests. If this power is not restored, there is 
no hope of any restoration of good morals, honour, virtue, or the ancient 
splendour of commonwealths. Justinian and those who have repeated him are 
wrong in saying that the Romans alone recognized such power of parents over 
their children. We have the testimony of the law of God which ought to be 
regarded as holy and inviolate by all peoples. We also have the evidence of 
Greek and Roman historians such as Caesar, of the customs of the Persians, 
the Romans, and the Celts. He said of the Gauls that they had power of life 
and death as much over their wives and children as over their slaves. 
Moreover by the laws of Romulus, whereas the power of life and death which a 
husband had over his wife was restricted to four occasions only, that which 
he had over his children was unqualified, being a plenary power to dispense 
life or death to them as he thought fit, and to be seized of all property 
which they might acquire. Roman fathers had such authority not only over 
their natural children, but also over their children by adoption. ...

A father is bound to educate and instruct his children, especially in the 
fear of God. But if he fails of his duty, the son is not excused his, though 
Solon in his laws acquitted children from the obligation of supporting their 
father if he had failed to apprentice them to some trade by which they could 
earn a living. There is no need to enter into any discussion of this 
particular point since we are only concerned here with the question of 
paternal authority. One of the greatest benefits which resulted from it in 
ancient times was the proper upbringing of children. Public courts do not 
take cognizance of the contempt, disobedience, and irreverence of children 
towards their parents, nor the vices to which their indiscipline disposes 
the young, such vices as extravagance, drunkenness, fornication, and 
gambling, not to mention those graver crimes punishable by law, which their 
unhappy parents neither dare to discover, nor have the power to punish. For 
children who stand in little awe of their parents, and have even less fear 
of the wrath of God, readily set at defiance the authority of magistrates, 
who in any case are chiefly occupied with the habitual criminal. It is 
therefore impossible that a commonwealth should prosper while the families 
which are its foundation are ill-regulated. ...

Yet paternal power was gradually undermined in the time of the decline of 
the Roman Empire. The antique virtue thereupon vanished and with it the 
glory of the Republic, and a million vices and evil habits replaced the old 
loyalty and upright ways. For the paternal power of life and death was 
gradually restricted by the ambition of the magistrates, who wished to 
extend their own jurisdiction over all such matters ... Nowadays, fathers 
having been deprived of their paternal authority, and any claim to property 
acquired by their children, it is even suggested that the son can defend 
himself and resist by force any unjust attempt at coercion on the part of 
his father, and there are those that agree that he can ... But I hold that 
it is imperative that princes and legislators should revive the ancient laws 
touching the power of fathers over their children, and restore the usages 
prescribed by the law of God. ... 

It may be objected that an enraged father may abuse the power which he has 
over the life and property of his children. The law however puts those who 
are truly mad under ward, and takes from them any power over others when 
they do not possess it over themselves. But if a father is not out of his 
mind, he will never be tempted to kill his own child without cause, and if 
the son has merited such a fate, it is not for the magistrate to intervene. 
The affection of parents for their children is so strong, that the law has 
always rightly presumed that they will only do those things which are of 
benefit and honour to their children. The real danger lies in the temptation 
of parents to be too partial. Indeed there are innumerable cases of parents 
setting at defiance both divine and positive law in order to advance the 
interests of their children by fair means or foul. Therefore the father who 
kills his son is not liable to the same penalty as the parricide, for the 
law presumes he would only commit such an act upon good and just grounds. 
The law moreover gives him, to the exclusion of all others, the right to 
kill the adulteress, or his daughter taken in sin. All these instances show 
that parents are not suspected of being liable to abuse their authority. 
Even if it be true that there have been cases where such powers have been 
misused, one cannot refuse to establish a good custom because certain ill 
consequences might occasionally ensue. No law, however just, natural, and 
necessary, but carries with it some risks. Anyone who wished to abolish all 
those laws which were liable to give rise to difficulties would abolish all 
laws whatsoever. But I hold that the natural affection of parents for their 
children is incompatible with cruelty and abuse of power. ...

The third type of government in the household is that of the lord over his 
slaves and the master over his servants ... And seeing that there are 
slaves all over the world except in that quarter which is Europe, we must 
necessarily consider the power of masters over their slaves, and the 
advantages and disadvantages of the institution. It is a matter of moment 
both to families and to commonwealths everywhere.

Slaves are either naturally so, being born of slave women, or slaves by 
right of conquest, or in punishment for some crime, or because they have 
sold or gambled away their liberty to another ... Household servants are in 
no sense slaves but free men, and both before the law, and in fact, have an 
equal liberty of action. All the same they are not simply paid employees or 
day labourers over whom those who have hired their services have no such 
authority or right of punishment as the master has over his servants. For 
so long as they are members of their master's household they owe him 
service, respect, and obedience, and he can correct and punish them, though 
with discretion and moderation. Such briefly is the power of masters over 
their servants, for we do not want here to enter into any discussion of the 
rules which should govern the conduct proper on each side.

But the institution of slavery raises difficulties which have never been 
satisfactorily resolved. First of all, is slavery natural and useful, or 
contrary to nature? And second, what power should the master have over the 
slave? Aristotle was of opinion that servitude was natural, and alleged as 
proof that it is obvious that some are born fit only to serve and obey, 
others to govern and command. On the other hand jurists, who are less 
concerned with philosophical arguments than with commonly received opinions, 
hold that servitude is directly contrary to nature, and have always done 
what they could to defend personal liberty, despite the obscurity of laws, 
testaments, legal decisions, and contracts. ...

Let us consider which of these two opinions is the better founded. There is 
a certain plausibility in the argument that slavery is natural and useful to 
the commonwealth. That which is contrary to nature cannot endure, and 
despite any force and violence that one can use, the natural order will 
always re-establish itself, as is clear from the behaviour of all natural 
agents. Slavery appeared suddenly in the world after the flood, and at the 
very same time that the first commonwealths began to take shape, and has 
persisted from that day to this. Although in the last three or four hundred 
years it has been abolished in many places, one continually sees it 
reappearing in some form. For instance in the West Indies, which are three 
times as extensive as the whole of Europe, people who have no knowledge of 
divine and positive laws to the contrary, have always had great numbers of 
slaves. There is not a commonwealth to be found anywhere that has never 
known the institution, and wise and good men in all ages have owned and 
employed slaves. What is more, in all commonwealths the master is always 
recognized as having absolute power to dispose of the lives and belongings 
of his slaves as he thinks fit, save in a few cases where princes and 
lawgivers have restricted this power. It cannot be that so many rulers and 
legislators have upheld an institution which was unnatural, or so many wise 
and virtuous men approved of them for doing so, or so many peoples for so 
many centuries maintained the practice of slavery, and even restricted the 
right of manumission, and still prospered in peace and war, if it had been 
against nature.

Again, who would deny that it is laudible and charitable to spare the life 
of a prisoner taken in legitimate warfare who cannot find a ransom, instead 
of killing him in cold blood, for this was generally the origin of 
enslavement. Moreover a man is required by divine and positive law to submit 
to corporal punishment if he cannot pay the forfeit for any act he has 
committed. No one doubts that those who make violent assaults upon the goods 
and lives of others are brigands and robbers, deserving of death. It cannot 
be against nature in such a case to exact services from the malefactor 
instead of killing him. If it were against nature to have power of life and 
death over another, all kingdoms and lordships in the world would be against 
nature, seeing that kings and princes have the like power over their 
subjects, noble and simple, if they are proved guilty of a capital crime.

All these arguments tend to prove that slavery is natural, useful, and 
right. I think however that strong objections can be urged against them all. 
I agree that servitude is natural where the strong, brutal, rich, and 
ignorant obey the wise, prudent, and humble, poor though they may be. But no 
one would deny that to subject wise men to fools, the well-informed to the 
ignorant, saints to sinners is against nature ... One sees in fact how often 
quiet and peaceable men are the prey of evildoers. When princes attempt to 
settle their differences by war, it is always claimed that the victor had 
right on his side, and the vanquished were in the wrong. If the vanquished 
did indeed make war without just cause, as do brigands, ought one not rather 
to make an example of them and put them to death, than to show them mercy? 
As for the argument that slavery could not have been so enduring if it had 
been contrary to nature, I would answer that the principle holds good for 
natural agents whose property it is to obey of necessity the unchanging laws 
of God. But man, being given the choice between good and evil, inclines for 
the most part to that which is forbidden, and chooses the evil, defying the 
laws of God and of nature. So much is such a one under the domination of his 
corrupt imagination, that he takes his own will for the law. There is no 
sort of impiety or wickedness which in this way has not come to be accounted 
virtuous and good. I will be content with one instance. It is sufficiently 
obvious that there can be no more cruel and detestable practice than human 
sacrifice. Yet there is hardly a people which has not practised it, and each 
and all have done so for centuries under the cover of piety. In our own 
times it was common throughout the Western Isles... Such things show how 
little the laws of nature can be deduced from the practices of men, however 
inveterate, and one cannot on these grounds accept slavery as natural. 
Again, what charity is there in sparing captives in order to derive some 
profit or advantage from them as if they were cattle? For where is the man 
who would spare the lives of the vanquished if he saw more profit in killing 
than in sparing them? ...

I will refrain from setting down in words the base humiliations that slaves 
have been made to suffer. But the cruelties one reads about are 
unbelievable, and yet only the thousandth part has been told. For writers 
only refer to the subject incidentally, and such accounts as we have, come 
from the most civilized races in the world. Slaves were made to work in the 
fields chained, as they still do in Barbary, and sleep in the open when 
work was done, as they still do everywhere in the East, for fear that they 
would abscond, or fire the house, or murder their masters ... So much have 
cities and commonwealths always feared their slaves that they have never 
dared to permit them the use of arms, or to be enrolled for service. It was 
forbidden on pain of death... Yet they never succeeded so well but that some 
desperate man, by promising liberty to the slaves, threw the whole state 
into confusion, as did Viriat the pirate who made himself King of Portugal, 
Cinna, Spartacus, and others down to Simon Gerson the Jew. All these raised 
themselves from humble origins to be powerful rulers simply by 
enfranchising the slaves who joined them. ...

Since the Christian religion was established however the number of slaves 
has diminished. The process was hastened by the publication of the law of 
Mahomet, which enfranchised all who professed that faith. By the year 1200 
slavery had been abolished nearly everywhere save in the West Indies, where 
great numbers were found at the time of their discovery... It may be 
objected that if the Mohammedans really enfranchised their co-religionists, 
who cover the whole of Asia, the greater part of Africa and even a 
considerable area of Europe, and the Christians have done the same, how come 
there to be still so many slaves in the world? For the Jews by the terms of 
their law may not make slaves of their own people either, nor yet of 
Christians if they live in a Christian country, still less of Mohammedans 
among whom they are chiefly settled. The answer is that those who profess 
all these three religions only partially observe the law of God with regard 
to slaves, for by the law of God it is forbidden to make any man a slave 
except with his own entire good will and consent... Seeing that the 
experience of four thousand years has shown us the insurrections, the civil 
commotions, the disasters and revolutions that commonwealths have suffered 
at the hands of slaves, and the homicides, the cruelties and barbarities 
inflicted on slaves by their masters, it was an unmitigated catastrophe that 
the institution was ever introduced, and then, that once it had been 
declared abolished, it should ever have been allowed to persist.

Concerning the Citizen [CHAPTERS VI AND VII]

...WHEN the head of the family leaves the household over which he presides 
and joins with other heads of families in order to treat of those things 
which are of common interest, he ceases to be a lord and master, and becomes 
an equal and associate with the rest. He sets aside his private concerns to 
attend to public affairs. In so doing he ceases to be a master and becomes 
a citizen, and a citizen may be denned as a free subject dependent on the 
authority of another.

Before such things as cities and citizens, or any form of commonwealth 
whatsoever, were known among men, each head of a family was sovereign in his 
household, having power of life and death over his wife and children. But 
force, violence, ambition, avarice, and the passion for vengeance, armed men 
against one another. The result of the ensuing conflicts was to give victory 
to some, and to reduce the rest to slavery. Moreover the man who had been 
chosen captain and leader by the victors, under whose command success had 
been won, retained authority over his followers, who became his loyal and 
faithful adherents, and imposed it on the others, who became his slaves. 
Thus was lost the full and entire liberty of each man to live according to 
his own free will, without subjection to anyone. It was completely lost to 
the vanquished and converted into unmitigated servitude; it was qualified in 
the case of the victors in that they now rendered obedience to a sovereign 
leader. Anyone who did not wish to abandon part of his liberty, and live 
under the laws and commands of another, lost it altogether. Thus the words, 
hitherto unknown, of master and servant, ruler and subject, came into use.

Reason and common sense alike point to the conclusion that the origin and 
foundation of commonwealths was in force and violence. If this is not 
enough, it can be shown on the testimony of such historians as Thucydides, 
Plutarch, Caesar, and even by the laws of Solon, that the first generations 
of men were unacquainted with the sentiments of honour, and their highest 
endeavour was to kill, torture, rob, and enslave their fellows. So says 
Plutarch. We also have the evidence of sacred history, where it is said 
that Nimrod, the youngest son of Ham, was the first to subject his followers 
by force and violence. Wherefore he was called the mighty hunter, which to 
the Hebrews suggests the robber and despoiler. Demosthenes, Aristotle, and 
Cicero laboured under a misapprehension in repeating the error of Herodotus, 
who held that the first kings were chosen for their justice and their 
virtue, in what were believed to be heroic times. I have rebutted this view 
elsewhere[2] on the grounds that in the first commonwealths, and for a long 
time after Abraham, there were innumerable slaves, as indeed was also found 
to be the case in the West Indies. This could hardly be unless there had 
been some violent forcing of the laws of nature. ... 

Such being the origin of commonwealths, it is clear why a citizen is to be 
defined as a free subject who is dependent on the sovereignty of another. I 
use the term free subject, because although a slave is as much, or more, 
subject to the commonwealth as is his lord, it has always been a matter of 
common agreement that the slave is not a citizen, and in law has no 
personality. This is not the case with women and children, who are free of 
any servile dependence, though their rights and liberties, especially their 
power of disposing of property, is limited by the domestic authority of the 
head of the household. We can say then that every citizen is a subject 
since his liberty is limited by the sovereign power to which he owes 
obedience. We cannot say that every subject is a citizen. This is clear from 
the case of slaves. The same applies to aliens. Being subject to the 
authority of another, they have no part in the rights and privileges of the 
community. ...

Just as slaves can be slaves either by birth or by convention, so citizens 
can be either natural or naturalized. The natural citizen is the free 
subject who is a native of the commonwealth, in that both, or one or other 
of his parents, was born there... The naturalized citizen is one who makes a 
voluntary submission to the sovereign authority of another, and is accepted 
by him as Us subject. An honorary citizen who has been granted certain 
privileges such as civic rights, either as the reward of merit, or an act of 
grace and favour, is not properly a citizen because he does not thereby 
become a subject. The whole body of the citizens, whether citizens by birth, 
by adoption or by enfranchisement (for these are the three ways in which 
citizen rights are acquired) when subjected to the single sovereign power of 
one or more rulers, constitutes a commonwealth, even if there is diversity 
of laws, language, customs, religion, and race. If all the citizens are 
subject to a single uniform system of laws and customs they form not only a 
commonwealth but a commune,[3] even though they be dispersed in divers 
townships, villages, or the open countryside. The town is not the commune, 
as some have held, any more than the house is the household, for dependants 
and children can live in widely separated places, yet still form a 
household, if they are subject to a single head of the family. The same 
applies to the commune. It can consist of a number of townships and 
villages, provided they share the same customs, as is the case with the 
bailliwicks of this realm. Similarly the commonwealth can include a number 
of communes and provinces which all have different customs. But so long as 
they are subject to the authority of a single sovereign, and the laws and 
ordinances made by it, they constitute a commonwealth. ...

It is a very grave error to suppose that no one is a citizen unless he is 
eligible for public office, and has a voice in the popular estates, either 
in a judicial or deliberative capacity. This is Aristotle's view. Later he 
corrects himself when he observes that it only applies to popular states. 
But he himself said in another place that a definition is valueless unless 
it is of universal application ... Plutarch improved on this description 
when he said that citizenship implied a right to a share in the rights and 
privileges of a city-state, implying that he meant such a share as accorded 
with the standing of each, nobles, commoners, women, and children too, 
according to the differences of age, sex, and condition ... It must however 
be emphasized that it is not the rights and privileges which he enjoys which 
makes a man a citizen, but the mutual obligation between subject and 
sovereign, by which, in return for the faith and obedience rendered to him, 
the sovereign must do justice and give counsel, assistance, encouragement, 
and protection to the subject. He does not owe this to aliens... Moreover, 
although a man can be a slave of more than one master, or a vassal of more 
than one lord provided they all hold of the same overlord, a citizen cannot 
be the subject of more than one sovereign, unless they are both members of a 
federated state. For princes are not subject to any jurisdiction which 
delimits their claims over their subjects, as are lords and masters in 
respect of their vassals and slaves. Neglect of this principle is the reason 
why there are so frequently frontier wars between neighbouring princes. Each 
claims the population of the march country as his own. These latter 
recognize one or other disputant as it suits them, or escape dependence on 
either, and in consequence are invaded and pillaged by both sides equally. 
...

It is a generally accepted principle of public right that mere change of 
domicile from one country to another does not deprive the subject of his 
citizen rights, nor his prince of his sovereign authority over him. The 
case is parallel to that of the vassal who under feudal custom cannot escape 
the faith he owes his lord, any more than his lord can excuse himself from 
the obligation to protect his vassal, unless there has been agreement 
between them to this effect, seeing that the obligation is mutual and 
reciprocal. But if both parties have expressly or tacitly consented, and the 
prince has suffered his subject to renounce his subjection and submit to 
another, then the subject is no longer bound in obedience to his former 
sovereign ... In order then to acquire full rights of citizenship, it is not 
sufficient to have been domiciled for the statutary period. Letters of 
naturalization must also have been asked for and obtained. A settlement 
cannot be made on anyone unless the benefactor has offered, and the 
beneficiary duly accepted, the gift offered. Similarly an alien does not 
become a citizen, nor the subject of a foreign prince, until he has been 
received as such by that prince, but remains the subject of his natural 
prince. The same is the case if he has asked for admission to citizenship 
and been refused. ...

It is therefore the submission and obedience of a free subject to his 
prince, and the tuition, protection, and jurisdiction exercised by the 
prince over his subject that makes the citizen. This is the essential 
distinction between the citizen and the foreigner. All other differences are 
accidental and circumstantial, though it is an almost universal rule in 
commonwealths that all or certain offices and benefices should be open only 
to citizens, and aliens debarred from them altogether. ...

As for the differences that distinguish different classes of subjects from 
each other, they are almost as numerous as those which distinguish citizens 
from aliens, taking all places into account. I have referred to some, the 
difference between noble and commoner, adults and children, men and women. 
There are also distinctions of persons before the law, some being exempt 
from the taxes, charges, and impositions that others are subject to. In 
nearly every state in Europe citizens are divided into the three orders of 
nobles, clergy, and people. In addition to this general division there are 
special arrangements in certain commonwealths such as the division into 
gentlemen, citizens, and proletariat in Venice ... Even Plato, although he 
intended all his citizens to enjoy an equality of rights and privileges, 
divided them into the three orders of guardians, soldiers, and labourers. 
All this goes to show that there never was a commonwealth, real or 
imaginary, even if conceived in the most popular terms, where citizens were 
in truth equal in all rights and privileges. Some always have more, some 
less than the rest.

So much for the meaning of the terms subject, citizen, and alien. Let us 
now consider allies, especially those under protection, for no one who has 
written about the commonwealth has considered this subject, important as it 
is for all governments. The term protection can be applied in a general 
sense to all subjects owing obedience to a sovereign lord or prince. As we 
have already shown, the prince is obliged to safeguard the persons, 
possessions, and families of his subjects, by force of arms, and by force of 
law, while his subjects are under a reciprocal obligation to give their 
prince loyal and obedient service. This is the first and most effective form 
of protection there is. The rights of protection that masters have over 
their slaves, patrons over their freedmen, and lords over their vassals are 
much inferior. The slave, freedman, vassal, it is true, owes faith, homage, 
and service to his lord, but subject to the prior claims of his sovereign 
prince, whose liege man he is. In the same way the soldier owes obedience 
and assistance to his captain, and merits death if he does not guard his 
life at the risk of his own.

But in treaties between sovereign princes the word protection is used in a 
special sense, implying neither subjection on the part of the one who is 
protected, nor right to command in the one who protects. The latter can 
only claim honour and reverence from those whose defence he has undertaken; 
their sovereignty is in no way diminished by the relationship, nor has he 
any authority over them. This particular right of protection is therefore 
the best, the most honourable and dignified of all rights. Sovereign 
princes, masters, patrons, and overlords exact obedience and derive some 
profit from the defence of their subjects, slaves, freedmen, or vassals as 
the case may be. But the simple protector is satisfied with the mere honour 
and gratitude of his protgs. If he takes any profit it is not, properly 
speaking, simple protection that he gives. If anyone lends any of his 
belongings to another, or assists him by good offices on his behalf, but 
sees he makes a profit in so doing, he is no better than a mercenary who 
hires out his services for gain. In the same way if anyone freely promises 
assistance to another, he is obliged to redeem his promise without expecting 
any reward for so doing. There is no promise more binding than the 
undertaking to defend the goods, the life, and the honour of the weak 
against the strong, the poor against the rich, or the innocent threatened by 
the violence of wicked men. ... 

Protgs are sometimes called clients, and protectors patrons, because of a 
similarity in the two relationships. But it is the difference between them 
that is more important. The freedman owes services to his patron and can be 
reduced to servitude again if he fails in his obligations. But the protg?
owes no services, and cannot be deprived of his liberty however ingrate he 
may be. The freedman must leave a proportion of his goods to his patron 
should he predecease him. The protg?owes nothing of his inheritance to his 
protector. Again the vassal also resembles the protg?to such an extent 
that some have confused the two. But again, the difference between them is 
more significant than the resemblance. The vassal owes faith, homage, and 
honour to his lord. If he commits a felony, renounces his allegiance, or 
refuses the services due to his lord he loses his fief, which then reverts 
to his lord by right of escheat. The protg? holding no fief, has no such 
penalty to fear. Furthermore if the vassal is his lord's liege man, he is 
also his natural subject, and owes him not only faith and homage but 
submission and obedience, and cannot escape from the authority of his 
sovereign lord without his consent, even should he have been deprived of his 
fief. The protg?bears no such relationship to his protector, and is not 
subject to him. ...

But in the case of the sovereign prince who puts himself under the 
protection of another, does he lose his sovereign authority thereby and 
become a subject? It would seem that if he recognizes a greater than 
himself, he is no longer sovereign. Nevertheless I hold that he does remain 
a sovereign, and in no sense becomes a subject. The point is settled by a 
passage in the civil law which is unique. There are various readings of it, 
but I follow the original of the Pandects at Florence, where it is said that 
in treaties of alliance between sovereign princes, those that put themselves 
under the protection of one greater than themselves do not become his 
subjects. Even when, in treaties of an unequal alliance, it is expressly 
stated that one of the parties will defend the authority of the other, this 
does not make the latter the subject of the former. Our protgs and clients 
are as free as we are ourselves, even though they may not be our equals in 
wealth, in power, or in honour. ... 

Here someone may ask why allies bound together by an offensive and defensive 
alliance against all outsiders without exception, who share the same laws, 
customs, estates, and diets, should treat one another as foreigners. We have 
the example of the Swiss who have been leagued together in this way ever 
since 1315. I hold that such an alliance does not prevent its members 
remaining foreigners to one another, nor make them citizens of one another's 
countries... Many have made the mistake of thinking that the Swiss are 
members of a single commonwealth ... The Confederates and their allies 
altogether consist of twenty-one republics in all, besides the Abbot of St. 
Gall who is a prince-bishop. Each Confederate state is a sovereign power 
with its own distinct magistrates, distinct estates, distinct revenues, 
distinct domain, distinct territory. The army, the emblem, the name, the 
coinage, the seal, the jurisdiction, the ordinances of each are separate 
from those of all the rest. If one of the cantons makes any conquest, the 
others have no share in it... The fact that there are common estates, a 
common domain, and general diets, and the fact that they acknowledge the 
same friends and enemies does not make them one state, even though they have 
a common treasury derived from certain taxes, for they do not recognize any 
sovereign power of making law for each and all of their subjects. In like 
case if a number of heads of families joined together to administer all 
their property in common, they would not make a single family. We regard the 
alliances made by the Romans with the other cities of Italy in the same way. 
They formed an offensive and defensive league against all without exception. 
Nevertheless they all remained distinct and sovereign states. ...

Concerning Sovereignty [CHAPTER VIII]

SOVEREIGNTY is that absolute and perpetual power vested in a commonwealth 
which in Latin is termed majestas ... The term needs careful definition, 
because although it is the distinguishing mark of a commonwealth, and an 
understanding of its nature fundamental to any treatment of politics, no 
jurist or political philosopher has in fact attempted to define it. ...

I have described it as perpetual because one can give absolute power to a 
person or group of persons for a period of time, but that time expired they 
become subjects once more. Therefore even while they enjoy power, they 
cannot properly be regarded as sovereign rulers, but only as the 
lieutenants and agents of the sovereign ruler, till the moment comes when it 
pleases the prince or the people to revoke the gift. The true sovereign 
remains always seized of his power. Just as a feudal lord who grants lands 
to another retains his eminent domain over them, so the ruler who delegates 
authority to judge and command, whether it be for a short period, or during 
pleasure, remains seized of those rights of jurisdiction actually exercised 
by another in the form of a revocable grant, or precarious tenancy. For this 
reason the law requires the governor of a province, or the prince's 
lieutenant, to make a formal surrender of the authority committed to him, at 
the expiration of his term of office. In this respect there is no difference 
between the highest officer of state and his humblest subordinate. If it 
were otherwise, and the absolute authority delegated by the prince to a 
lieutenant was regarded as itself sovereign power, the latter could use it 
against his prince who would thereby forfeit his eminence, and the subject 
could command his lord, the servant his master. This is a manifest 
absurdity, considering that the sovereign is always excepted personally, as 
a matter of right, in all delegations of authority, however extensive. 
However much he gives there always remains a reserve of right in his own 
person, whereby he may command, or intervene by way of prevention, 
confirmation, evocation, or any other way he thinks fit, in all matters 
delegated to a subject, whether in virtue of an office or a commission. Any 
authority exercised in virtue of an office or a commission can be revoked, 
or made tenable for as long or short a period as the sovereign wills.

These principles accepted as the foundations of sovereignty, it follows 
that neither the Roman Dictator, the Harmost of Sparta, the Esymnete of 
Salonika, the Archus of Malta, nor the ancient Balia of Florence (who had 
the same sort of authority), nor regents of kingdoms, nor holders of any 
other sort of commission, nor magistrates whatsoever, who have absolute 
power to govern the commonwealth for a certain term only, are possessed of 
sovereign authority. ... 

But supposing the king grants absolute power to a lieutenant for the term 
of his life, is not that a perpetual sovereign power? For if one confines 
perpetual to that which has no termination whatever, then sovereignty cannot 
subsist save in aristocracies and popular states, which never die. If one is 
to include monarchy too, sovereignty must be vested not in the king alone, 
but in the king and the heirs of his body, which supposes a strictly 
hereditary monarchy. In that case there can be very few sovereign kings, 
since there are only a very few strictly hereditary monarchies. Those 
especially who come to the throne by election could not be included.

A perpetual authority therefore must be understood to mean one that lasts 
for the lifetime of him who exercises it. If a sovereign magistrate is 
given office for one year, or for any other predetermined period, and 
continues to exercise the authority bestowed on him after the conclusion of 
his term, he does so either by consent or by force and violence. If he does 
so by force, it is manifest tyranny. The tyrant is a true sovereign for all 
that. The robber's possession by violence is true and natural possession 
although contrary to the law, for those who were formerly in possession have 
been disseized. But if the magistrate continues in office by consent, he is 
not a sovereign prince, seeing that he only exercises power on sufferance. 
Still less is he a sovereign if the term of his office is not fixed, for in 
that case he has no more than a precarious commission. ...

What bearing have these considerations on the case of the man to whom the 
people has given absolute power for the term of his natural life? One must 
distinguish. If such absolute power is given him simply and 
unconditionally, and not in virtue of some office or commission, nor in the 
form of a revocable grant, the recipient certainly is, and should be 
acknowledged to be, a sovereign. The people has renounced and alienated its 
sovereign power in order to invest him with it and put him in possession, 
and it thereby transfers to him all its powers, authority, and sovereign 
rights, just as does the man who gives to another possessory and proprietary 
rights over what he formerly owned. The civil law expresses this in the 
phrase 'all power is conveyed to him and vested in him'.[4]

But if the people give such power for the term of his natural life to 
anyone as its official or lieutenant, or only gives the exercise of such 
power, in such a case he is not a sovereign, but simply an officer, 
lieutenant, regent, governor, or agent, and as such has the exercise only of 
a power inhering in another. When a magistrate institutes a perpetual 
lieutenant, even if he abandons all his rights of jurisdiction and leaves 
their exercise entirely to his lieutenant, the authority to command and to 
judge nevertheless does not reside in the lieutenant, nor the action and 
force of the law derive from him. If he exceeds his authority his acts have 
no validity, unless approved and confirmed by him from whom he draws his 
authority. For this reason King John, after his return from captivity in 
England, solemnly ratified all the acts of his son Charles, who had acted in 
his name as regent, in order, as was necessary, to regularize the position.

Whether then one exercises the power of another by commission, by 
institution, or by delegation, or whether such exercise is for a set term, 
or in perpetuity, such a power is not a sovereign power, even if there is no 
mention of such words as representative, lieutenant, governor, or regent, 
in the letters of appointment, or even if such powers are a consequence of 
the normal working of the laws of the country. In ancient times in Scotland, 
for instance, the law vested the entire governance of the realm in the next 
of kin, if the king should be a minor, on condition that everything that was 
done, was done in the king's name. But this law was later altered because of 
its inconvenient consequences.

Let us now turn to the other term of our definition and consider the force 
of the word absolute. The people or the magnates of a commonwealth can bestow 
simply and unconditionally upon someone of their choice a sovereign and 
perpetual power to dispose of their property and persons, to govern the 
state as he thinks fit, and to order the succession, in the same way that 
any proprietor, out of his liberality, can freely and unconditionally make a 
gift of his property to another. Such a form of gift, not being qualified in 
any way, is the only true gift, being at once unconditional and irrevocable. 
Gifts burdened with obligations and hedged with conditions are not true 
gifts. Similarly sovereign power given to a prince charged with conditions 
is neither properly sovereign, nor absolute, unless the conditions of 
appointment are only such as are inherent in the laws of God and of nature. 
...

If we insist however that absolute power means exemption from all law 
whatsoever, there is no prince in the world who can be regarded as 
sovereign, since all the princess of the earth are subject to the laws of 
God and of nature, and even to certain human laws common to all nations. On 
the other hand, it is possible for a subject who is neither a prince nor a 
ruler, to be exempted from all the laws, ordinances, and customs of the 
commonwealth. We have an example in Pompey the Great who was dispensed from 
the laws for five years, by express enactment of the Roman people, at the 
instance of the Tribune Gabinius ... But notwithstanding such exemptions 
from the operations of the law, the subject remains under the authority of 
him who exercises sovereign power, and owes him obedience.

On the other hand it is the distinguishing mark of the sovereign that he 
cannot in any way be subject to the commands of another, for it is he who 
makes law for the subject, abrogates law already made, and amends obsolete 
law. No one who is subject either to the law or to some other person can do 
this. That is why it is laid down in the civil law that the prince is above 
the law, for the word law in Latin implies the command of him who is 
invested with sovereign power. Therefore we find in all statutes the phrase 
'notwithstanding all edicts and ordinances to the contrary that we have 
infringed, or do infringe by these present'. This clause applies both to 
former acts of the prince himself, and to those of his predecessors. For all 
laws, ordinances, letters patent, privileges, and grants whatsoever issued 
by the prince, have force only during his own lifetime, and must be 
expressly, or at least tacitly, confirmed by the reigning prince who has 
cognizance of them ... In proof of which, it is the custom of this realm for 
all corporations and corporate bodies to ask for the confirmation of their 
privileges, rights, and jurisdictions, on the accession of a new king. Even 
Parlements and high courts do this, as well as individual officers of the 
crown.

If the prince is not bound by the laws of his predecessors, still less can 
he be bound by his own laws. One may be subject to laws made by another, but 
it is impossible to bind oneself in any matter which is the subject of one's 
own free exercise of will. As the law says, 'there can be no obligation in 
any matter which proceeds from the free will of the undertaker'.[5] It 
follows of necessity that the king cannot be subject to his own laws. Just 
as, according to the canonists, the Pope can never tie his own hands, so the 
sovereign prince cannot bind himself, even if he wishes. For this reason 
edicts and ordinances conclude with the formula 'for such is our good 
pleasure', thus intimating that the laws of a sovereign prince, even when 
founded on truth and right reason, proceed simply from his own free will.

It is far otherwise with divine and natural laws. All the princes of the 
earth are subject to them, and cannot contravene them without treason and 
rebellion against God. His yoke is upon them, and they must bow their heads 
in fear and reverence before His divine majesty. The absolute power of 
princes and sovereign lords does not extend to the laws of God and of 
nature. He who best understood the meaning of absolute power, and made kings 
and emperors submit to his will, defined his sovereignty as a power to 
override positive law; he did not claim power to set aside divine and 
natural law.[6]

But supposing the prince should swear to keep the laws and customs of his 
country, is he not bound by that oath? One must distinguish. If a prince 
promises in his own heart to obey his own laws, he is nevertheless not 
bound to do so, any more than anyone is bound by an oath taken to himself. 
Even private citizens are not bound by private oaths to keep agreements. The 
law permits them to cancel them, even if the agreements are in themselves 
reasonable and good. But if one sovereign prince promises another sovereign 
prince to keep the agreements entered into by his predecessors, he is bound 
to do so even if not under oath, if that other prince's interests are 
involved. If they are not, he is not bound either by a promise, or even by 
an oath.

The same holds good of promises made by the sovereign to the subject, even 
if the promises were made prior to his election (for this does not make the 
difference that many suppose). It is not that the prince is bound either by 
his own laws or those of his predecessors. But he is bound by the just 
covenants and promises he has made, whether under oath to do so or not, to 
exactly the same extent that a private individual is bound in like case. A 
private individual can be released from a promise that was unjust or 
unreasonable, or beyond his competence to fulfil, or extracted from him by 
misrepresentations or fraud, or made in error, or under restraint and by 
intimidation, because of the injury the keeping of it does him. In the same 
way a sovereign prince can make good any invasion of his sovereign rights, 
and for the same reasons. So the principle stands, that the prince is not 
subject to his own laws, or those of his predecessors, but is bound by the 
just and reasonable engagements which touch the interests of his subjects 
individually or collectively.

Many have been led astray by confusing the laws of the prince with covenants 
entered into by him. This confusion has led some to call these covenants 
contractual laws. This is the term used in Aragon when the king issues an 
ordinance upon the petition of the Estates, and in return receives some aid 
or subsidy. It is claimed that he is strictly bound by these laws, even 
though he is not by any of his other enactments. It is however admitted that 
he may override even these when the purpose of their enactment no longer 
holds. All this is true enough, and well-founded in reason and authority. 
But no bribe or oath is required to bind a sovereign prince to keep a law 
which is in the interests of his subjects. The bare word of a prince should 
be as sacred as a divine pronouncement. It loses its force if he is 
ill-thought of as one who cannot be trusted except under oath, nor relied 
on to keep a promise unless paid to do so. Nevertheless it remains true in 
principle that the sovereign prince can set aside the laws which he has 
promised or sworn to observe, if they no longer satisfy the requirements of 
justice, and he may do this without the consent of his subjects. It should 
however be added that the abrogation must be express and explicit in its 
reference, and not just in the form of a general repudiation. But if on the 
other hand there is no just cause for breaking a law which the prince has 
promised to keep, the prince ought not to do so, and indeed cannot 
contravene it, though he is not bound to the same extent by the promises 
and covenants of his predecessors unless he succeeds by strict hereditary 
right.

A law and a covenant must therefore not be confused. A law proceeds from him 
who has sovereign power, and by it he binds the subject to obedience, but 
cannot bind himself. A covenant is a mutual undertaking between a prince and 
his subjects, equally binding on both parties, and neither can contravene it 
to the prejudice of the other, without his consent. The prince has no 
greater privilege than the subject in this matter. But in the case of laws, 
a prince is no longer bound by his promise to keep them when they cease to 
satisfy the claims of justice. Subjects however must keep their engagements 
to one another in all circumstances, unless the prince releases them from 
such obligations. Sovereign princes are not bound by oath to keep the laws 
of their predecessors. If they are so bound, they are not properly speaking 
sovereign. ...

The constitutional laws of the realm, especially those that concern the 
king's estate being, like the salic law, annexed and united to the Crown, 
cannot be infringed by the prince. Should he do so, his successor can always 
annul any act prejudicial to the traditional form of the monarchy,[7] since 
on this is founded and sustained his very claim to sovereign majesty. ...

As for laws relating to the subject, whether general or particular, which 
do not involve any question of the constitution, it has always been usual 
only to change them with the concurrence of the three estates, either 
assembled in the States-General of the whole of France, or in each bailiwick 
separately. Not that the king is bound to take their advice, or debarred 
from acting in a way quite contrary to what they wish, if his acts are based 
on justice and natural reason. At the same time the majesty of the prince is 
most fully manifested in the assembly of the three estates of the whole 
realm, humbly petitioning and supplicating him, without any power of 
commanding or determining, or any right to a deliberative voice. Only that 
which it pleases the prince to assent to or dissent from, to command or to 
forbid, has the force of law and is embodied in his edict or ordinance.

Those who have written books about the duties of magistrates and such like 
matters[8] are in error in maintaining that the authority of the Estates is 
superior to that of the prince. Such doctrines serve only to encourage 
subjects to resist their sovereign rulers. Besides, such views bear no 
relation to the facts, except when the king is in captivity, lunatic or a 
minor. If he were normally subject to the Estates, he would be neither a 
prince nor a sovereign, and the commonwealth would not be a kingdom or a 
monarchy, but a pure aristocracy where authority is shared equally between 
the members of the ruling class. ...

Although in the Parliaments of the kingdom of England, which meet every 
three years, all three orders use great freedom of speech, as is 
characteristic of northern peoples, they still must proceed by petitions and 
supplications ... Moreover Parliaments in England can only assemble, as in 
this kingdom and in Spain, under letters patent expressly summoning them in 
the king's name. This is sufficient proof that Parliaments have no 
independent power of considering, commanding or determining, seeing that 
they can neither assemble nor adjourn without express royal command ... It 
may be objected that no extraordinary taxes or subsidies can be imposed 
without the agreement and consent of Parliament. King Edward I agreed to 
this principle in the Great Charter, which is always appealed to by the 
people against the claims of the king. But I hold that in this matter no 
other king has any more right than has the King of England, since it is not 
within the competence of any prince in the world to levy taxes at will on 
his people, or seize the goods of another arbitrarily, as Philippe de 
Comines very wisely argued at the Estates at Tours, as we may read in his 
Memoirs.[9]

We must agree then that the sovereignty of the king is in no wise qualified 
or diminished by the existence of Estates. On the contrary his majesty 
appears more illustrious when formally recognized by his assembled subjects, 
even though in such assemblies princes, not wishing to fall out with their 
people, agree to many things which they would not have consented to, unless 
urged by the petitions, prayers, and just complaints of a people burdened by 
grievances unknown to the prince. After all, he depends for his information 
on the eyes and ears and reports of others.

From all this it is clear that the principal mark of sovereign majesty and 
absolute power is the right to impose laws generally on alt subjects 
regardless of their consent ... And if it is expedient that if he is to 
govern his state well, a sovereign prince must be above the law, it is even 
more expedient that the ruling class in an aristocracy should be so, and 
inevitable in a popular state. A monarch in a kingdom is set apart from his 
subjects, and the ruling class from the people in an aristocracy. There are 
therefore in each case two parties, those that rule on the one hand, and 
those that are ruled on the other. This is the cause of the disputes about 
sovereignty that arise in them, but cannot in a popular state ... There the 
people, rulers and ruled, form a single body and so cannot bind themselves 
by their own laws. ...

When edicts are ratified by Estates or Parlements, it is for the purpose of 
securing obedience to them, and not because otherwise a sovereign prince 
could not validly make law. As Theodosius said with reference to the consent 
of the Senate, 'it is not a matter of necessity but of expediency'. He also 
remarked that it was most becoming in a sovereign prince to keep his own 
laws, for this is what makes him feared and respected by his subjects, 
whereas nothing so undermines his authority as contempt for them. As a Roman 
Senator observed 'it is more foolish and ill-judged to break your own laws 
than those of another'. 

But may it not be objected that if the prince forbids a sin, such as 
homicide, on pain of death, he is in this case bound to keep his own law The 
answer is that this is not properly the prince's own law, but a law of God 
and nature, to which he is more strictly bound than any of his subjects. 
Neither his council, nor the whole body of the people, can exempt him from 
his perpetual responsibility before the judgement-seat of God, as Solomon 
said in unequivocal terms. Marcus Aurelius also observed that the magistrate 
is the judge of persons, the prince of the magistrates, and God of the 
prince. Such was the opinion of the two wisest rulers the world has ever 
known. Those who say without qualification that the prince is bound neither 
by any law whatsoever, nor by his own express engagements, insult the 
majesty of God, unless they intend to except the laws of God and of nature, 
and all just covenants and solemn agreements. Even Dionysius, tyrant of 
Syracuse, said to his mother that he could exempt her from the laws and 
customs of Syracuse, but not from the laws of God and of nature. For just as 
contracts and deeds of gift of private individuals must not derogate from 
the ordinances of the magistrate, nor his ordinances from the law of the 
land, nor the law of the land from the enactments of a sovereign prince, so 
the laws of a sovereign prince cannot override or modify the laws of God and 
of nature. ...

There is one other point. If the prince is bound by the laws of nature, and 
the civil law is reasonable and equitable, it would seem to follow that the 
prince is also bound by the civil law. As Pacatius said to the Emperor 
Theodosius 'as much is permitted to you as is permitted by the laws'. In 
answer to this I would point out that the laws of a sovereign prince concern 
either public or private interests or both together. All laws moreover can 
be either profitable at the expense of honour, or profitable without 
involving honour at all, or honourable without profit, or neither honourable 
nor profitable. When I say 'honour' I mean that which conforms with what is 
natural and right, and it has already been shown that the prince is bound in 
such cases. Laws of this kind, though published by the prince's authority, 
are properly natural laws. Laws which are profitable as well as just are 
even more binding on him. One need hardly concern oneself about the sanctity 
of laws which involve neither profit nor honour. But if it is a question of 
weighing honour against profit, honour should always be preferred. Aristides 
the Just said of Themistocles that his advice was always very useful to the 
people, but shameful and dishonourable.

But if a law is simply useful and does not involve any principle of natural 
justice, the prince is not bound by it, but can amend it or annul it 
altogether as he chooses, provided that with the alteration of the law the 
profit to some does not do damage to others without just cause. The prince 
then can annul an ordinance which is merely useful in order to substitute 
one more or less advantageous, for profit, honour, and justice all have 
degrees of more and less. And just as the prince can choose the most useful 
among profitable laws, so he can choose the most just among equitable laws, 
even though while some profit by them others suffer, provided it is the 
public that profits, and only the private individual that suffers. It is 
however never proper for the subject to disobey the laws of the prince under 
the pretext that honour and justice require it. ...

Edicts and ordinances therefore do not bind the ruler except in so far as 
they embody the principles of natural justice; that ceasing, the obligation 
ceases. But subjects are bound till the ruler has expressly abrogated the 
law, for it is a law both divine and natural that we should obey the edicts 
and ordinances of him whom God has set in authority over us, providing his 
edicts are not contrary to God's law. For just as the rear-vassal owes an 
oath of fealty in respect of and against all others, saving his sovereign 
prince, so the subject owes allegiance to his sovereign prince in respect of 
and against all others, saving the majesty of God, who is lord of all the 
princes of this world. From this principle we can deduce that other rule, 
that the sovereign prince is bound by the covenants he makes either with his 
subjects, or some other prince. Just because he enforces the covenants and 
mutual engagements entered into by his subjects among themselves, he must be 
the mirror of justice in all his own acts ... He has a double obligation in 
this case. He is bound in the first place by the principles of natural 
equity, which require that conventions and solemn promises should be kept, 
and in the second place in the interests of his own good faith, which he 
ought to pre-serve even to his own disadvantage, because he is the formal 
guarantor to all his subjects of the mutual faith they owe one another. ...

A distinction must therefore be made between right and law, for one implies 
what is equitable and the other what is commanded. Law is nothing else than 
the command of the sovereign in the exercise of his sovereign power. A 
sovereign prince is not subject to the laws of the Greeks, or any other 
alien power, or even those of the Romans, much less to his own laws, except 
in so far as they embody the law of nature which, according to Pindar, is 
the law to which all kings and princes are subject. Neither Pope nor Emperor 
is exempt from this law, though certain flatterers say they can take the 
goods of their subjects at will. But both civilians and canonists have 
repudiated this opinion as contrary to the law of God. They err who assert 
that in virtue of their sovereign power princes can do this. It is rather 
the law of the jungle, an act of force and violence. For as we have shown 
above, absolute power only implies freedom in relation to positive laws, and 
not in relation to the law of God. God has declared explicitly in His Law 
that it is not just to take, or even to covet, the goods of another. Those 
who defend such opinions are even more dangerous than those who act on them. 
They show the lion his claws, and arm princes under a cover of just claims. 
The evil will of a tyrant, drunk with such flatteries, urges him to an abuse 
of absolute power and excites his violent passions to the pitch where 
avarice issues in confiscations, desire in adultery, and anger in murder. 
...

Since then the prince has no power to exceed the laws of nature which God 
Himself, whose image he is, has decreed, he cannot take his subjects' 
property without just and reasonable cause, that is to say by purchase, 
exchange, legitimate confiscation, or to secure peace with the enemy when 
it cannot be otherwise achieved. Natural reason instructs us that the public 
good must be preferred to the particular, and that subjects should give up 
not only their mutual antagonisms and animosities, but also their 
possessions, for the safety of the commonwealth. ...

It remains to be determined whether the prince is bound by the covenants of 
his predecessors, and whether, if so, it is a derogation or his sovereign 
power ... A distinction must be made between the ruler who succeeds because 
he is the natural heir of his predecessor, and the ruler who succeeds in 
virtue of the laws and customs of the realm. In the first case the heir is 
bound by the oaths and promises of his predecessors just as is any ordinary 
heir. In the second case he is not so bound even if he is sworn, for the 
oath of the predecessor does not bind the successor. He is bound however in 
all that tends to the benefit of the kingdom.

There are those who will say that there is no need of such distinctions 
since the prince is bound in any case by the law of nations, under which 
covenants are guaranteed. But I consider that these distinctions are 
necessary nevertheless, since the prince is bound as much by the law of 
nations, but no more, than by any of his own enactments. If the law of 
nations is iniquitous in any respect, he can disallow it within his own 
kingdom, and forbid his subjects to observe it, as was done in France in 
regard to slavery. He can do the same in relation to any other of its 
provisions, so long as he does nothing against the law of God. If justice is 
the end of the law, the law the work of the prince, and the prince the image 
of God, it follows of necessity that the law of the prince should be 
modelled on the law of God.

Concerning Feudatory and Tributary Princes [CHAPTER IX]

A CHAPTER must be devoted to this subject, since formerly the rights of 
sovereignty were identical with feudal rights, such as are found throughout 
Europe and Asia ... We have already said that an absolute sovereign is one 
who, under God, holds by the sword alone. If he holds of another he is not 
sovereign. But this raises a difficulty. If those who hold anything at all 
of another in faith and homage are not sovereigns, there are hardly any 
sovereign princes in the world. On the other hand if we concede that those 
who do so hold in faith and homage are sovereigns, we are in effect saying 
the vassal and his lord, the servant and his master, are equals in honour, 
power, and authority. But it is a fact that civilians have treated the 
Dukes of Milan, Mantua, Ferrara, Savoy, and even certain counts as 
sovereigns, though this is not in the least consistent with the principle we 
have laid down. It is clear therefore that the matter needs examining, since 
it touches so closely upon the question of sovereignty, and the standing and 
honour of princes.

We have already shown in the chapter on protection that princes who are 
under the protection of, but not subject to another, remain sovereign, even 
though the alliance is an unequal one in that the protected must needs 
defer to the protector. But there is a great difference between being simply 
under the protection of another, and owing him faith and homage, by which I 
mean the oaths of fidelity, submission, service, and duty owed by a vassal 
to his lord. 

There are in fact six degrees of dependence below the status of an absolute 
prince who holds of none and is dependent on none. First there is the 
tributary prince who is the inferior of him to whom he pays tribute, but 
nevertheless is a sovereign prince, since he is not in subjection to him. 
Though he may be more heavily burdened than a prince who is under 
protection, his status is nevertheless the higher, in that once the tribute 
which he has promised in order to secure peace is paid, he is quit of all 
further obligations, and may take what steps he pleases for the defence of 
his rights. Next in order is the prince who has commended himself to another 
for protection. His status is lower than that of either his protector or a 
tributary prince, for he cannot defend his rights save with the assistance 
of his protector, whose protg?and dependant he is, as has been shown in an 
earlier chapter. The third type is that of the prince who is a sovereign in 
his own realm and under no man's protection, but at the same time is the 
vassal of another prince for some fief, in respect of which he owes him the 
honour and service due on that fief. The fourth is the simple vassal who 
owes faith and service for his fief, but is neither a sovereign himself, nor 
the natural subject of the man of whom he holds the fief. The fifth is the 
liege-vassal of a sovereign prince but not his subject. The last is the 
natural subject, whether vassal or tenant, who holds his feudal or peasant 
holding of a sovereign prince who is his natural lord and has jurisdiction 
over him; it includes those who have neither fief nor lands, but are 
nevertheless justiciable by and subject to the prince of their native 
country.

I have made all these distinctions in order to clear up the very common 
confusion between the subject and the vassal, and between the simple vassal 
and the liege-vassal. The liege-vassal owes obedience to his lord in 
relation to and against all. The simple vassal reserves the rights of his 
lord's superior. But only the subject owes absolute obedience. The vassal, 
whether liege or simple, if he is not a subject, only owes the service and 
homage promised at his investiture, and can be quit of it by abandoning his 
fief without breach of faith. But the subject, whether vassal, tenant, free 
proprietor, or landless man cannot be quit of the authority of his prince 
against his prince's will, or without his consent, as has been shown in the 
chapter on the citizen. The simple vassal only takes the oath of submission 
to his lord once and there are even vassals who take no oath, for there are 
fiefs on which no homage is due. But a subject, whoever he is, whether 
vassal, tenant, free proprietor, landless man, or even a bishop without 
temporalities, must take an oath of submission to his sovereign prince 
whenever, and as often as, he chooses to demand it. As for liege-homage, one 
need not be the subject of the man to whom it is due, for a sovereign prince 
can hold a fief of another in respect of which he owes him liege-homage. ...

These considerations suggest that the only ruler who is sovereign in an 
absolute sense is one who holds nothing of any other prince, for the 
vassal, even if he is the Pope or the Emperor himself, if he holds any kind 
of fief, owes personal service to the man of whom he holds it. This term 
'service', when used in relation to fiefs, is in no country prejudicial to 
the personal liberty of the vassal. Nevertheless it implies obligations, 
duties, honour, and reverence owed to the feudal overlord. These do not at 
all imply real servitude, but they are inseparably attached to the person of 
the vassal, so that he cannot escape them save by abandoning his fief, and 
only then if he is not the natural subject of his lord. In that case he 
cannot escape his subjection even in abandoning his fief... Can then a 
prince really be regarded as an absolute sovereign who takes the oath of 
homage, who is obliged to serve another, who is the man, or to speak more 
exactly, the servitor of another? ... 

Bartolus once wrote that it was a kind of heresy to reject the claims of 
the Emperor to lordship of the world. Such a statement hardly requires 
refutation, seeing that Rome itself never ruled more than a thirtieth part 
of the globe, and the German Emperors only a tenth part of the Roman Empire 
... Nevertheless the partisans of the Emperor on the one hand, and the 
Church on the other have claimed, the one for the Emperor, the other for the 
Pope, final sovereign authority over all Christian princes. Some have argued 
that all anointed kings are vassals of the Pope, others that the Pope is the 
guardian of all kings incapable of discharging their functions. Innocent IV, 
hearing that the King of Portugal neglected the interests of his realm, 
commanded the princes and barons of Portugal to choose a regent to take over 
the management of the finances and the administration, 'not', he said, 'that 
I intend to do anything to the prejudice of the crown, but rather to 
preserve its rights'. But his acts belied his words. Urban V presumed to 
legitimatize Henry, bastard of Castile, in order to give him grounds for 
expelling his legitimate brother Pedro from the kingdom, as he did. For 
Popes claimed the right of legitimization in respect of all princes. Others 
were prepared to go even further and ascribe to the Pope jurisdiction over 
the Emperor, and over all kings and princes, of right, and in fact, 
excepting only the Kings of France. Even canonists have admitted that in 
fact the latter acknowledge no superior save God alone. ...

But all these various claims rested on no surer foundation than the 
authority of Pope Gelasius,[10] who wrote that Popes could deprive kings of 
their authority. It was also claimed that there was an appeal from all kings 
and peoples to the Pope; that only an Emperor or a Pope could revoke their 
tides and deprive kings; that there was no prince rightly instituted unless 
the Pope had confirmed him in his principality; that the Pope could grant 
privileges, exemptions, and immunities to the subject regardless of the 
laws and customs of the realm, and that he was the sole judge of all 
exemptions. Finally it has been claimed that in virtue of the phrase de 
plenitudine potestatis used in Papal rescripts, the Pope can set aside the 
laws of all princes whatsoever. ...

I do not wish to enter into matters of religion, but to confine myself to 
the question of temporal sovereignty which is the subject of my discourse. 
This subject has not been discussed in a way which makes clear which princes 
are absolute sovereigns, and whether the rest are the subjects of either 
Pope or Emperor.

From the time that Pope Gregory, the one who first described himself as 
servant of the servants of God,[11] obtained from Phocas the Emperor in 
Constantinople authority over all the other bishops, his successors by 
using spiritual weapons for temporal ends gradually extended their power. 
Princes in their turn, more from piety towards God than respect for the 
Papal office, came to reverence its authority more and more ... In the end 
the Popes came to claim sovereignty not only in respect of spiritual 
matters, but also in temporal affairs, over all Christian princes. They 
acquired such rights in some cases by agreements and concessions, in others 
by usurpation and prescription, excepting only the kingdom of France, which 
always withstood such attempts, hard as the Popes tried to subject it to 
their authority. ...

[The rest of this very long chapter is devoted to a survey of the 
actualities of the political scene. Therefore, though he manifestly 
disapproved of the way the temporal power of the Popes had been built up, he 
admitted it as a fact. He regarded the Spanish kingdoms, Naples, Hungary, 
and Jerusalem together with many of the Italian city states as Papal fiefs. 
The rest of the Italian states, with the exception of Venice were Imperial 
fiefs. The New World was also held of the Pope in consequence of the Bull of 
Alexander VI. The Emperor he would not allow to be a sovereign prince 
anywhere. He either held of the Pope, or in Germany itself was subject to 
the Diet, for he regarded Germany as an aristocracy. His views on England 
are not so clear. It was a Papal fief till Henry VIII repudiated Papal 
authority. He says however in another place that feudal dependence was 
imprescriptible unless the fief was abandoned. Yet whereas in one place he 
speaks of the Swiss Cantons as originally fiefs of the Empire, he ends by 
describing them as absolute sovereign states, admitting no overlord. Of the 
Mohammedan world he says he has not enough evidence to discuss it, but he 
notices a passage in the Koran which forbids the title of Seigneur to any 
but the Caliph, and supposes that this is why no Mohammedan ruler wears a 
crown.

Tributary princes he hardly discusses, since by his own account it is a 
temporary status. He gives a few examples such as the tribute paid by 
Carthage to Rome, or by the Emperor Ferdinand to the Sultan in respect of 
the kingdom of Hungary. France alone emerges from this survey with an 
unqualified claim to be a sovereign state with no limitation whatsoever. In 
II. v [p. 67] however he lists France, Spain, England, Scotland, Ethiopia, 
Turkey, Persia, and Muscovy as absolute and sovereign monarchies.]

The True Attributes of Sovereignty [CHAPTER X]

BECAUSE there are none on earth, after God, greater than sovereign princes, 
whom God establishes as His lieutenants to command the rest of mankind, we 
must enquire carefully into their estate, that we may respect and revere 
their majesty in all due obedience, speak and think of them with all due 
honour. He who contemns his sovereign prince, contemns God whose image he 
is. ...

Aristotle, Polybius, and Dionysius Halicarnassus alone among the Greeks 
discussed the attributes of sovereignty. But they treated the subject so 
briefly that one can see at a glance that they did not really understand the 
principles involved. I quote Aristotle. 'There are', he says, 'three parts 
of a commonwealth. There must be provision for the taking and giving of 
counsel, for appointing to office and assigning to each citizen his duties, 
for the administration of justice.' If he did not mean by parts attributes 
of sovereignty, he never treated of the subject at all, since this is the 
only passage which has any bearing. Polybius does not define the rights and 
duties of sovereignty either, but he says of the Romans that their 
constitution was a mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and popular government, 
since the people made law and appointed to office, the Senate administered 
the provinces and conducted great affairs of state, the consuls enjoyed the 
pre-eminence of honour accorded to kings, especially in the field, where 
they exercised supreme command. This passage appears to imply a treatment of 
sovereign rights, since he says that those who enjoyed those rights had 
sovereign power. Dionysius Halicarnassus however had a clearer and better 
understanding of the matter than the others. When he was explaining how the 
King Servius deprived the Senate of authority, he observed that he 
transferred to the people the power to make and unmake law, to determine war 
and peace, to institute and deprive magistrates, and the right of hearing 
appeals from all courts whatsoever. In another passage, when describing the 
third conflict between the nobles and the people, he reported how the Consul 
Marcus Valerius rebuked the people and said that they should be content with 
the powers of making law, appointing to office and hearing appeals. Other 
matters should be left to the Senate.

Since ancient times civilians, and especially those of more recent years, 
have elaborated these rights, especially in their treatises on what they 
call regalian rights. Under this heading they have collected an immense 
number of particular rights and privileges enjoyed by dukes, counts, 
bishops, and various officials, and even subjects of sovereign princes. As a 
result they describe dukes, such as those of Milan, Mantua, Ferrara, and 
Savoy, and even counts, as sovereign princes. However reasonable it may 
appear, this is an error. How can these rulers be regarded as anything but 
sovereign, they argue, when they make law for their subjects, levy war and 
conclude peace, appoint to all office in their dominions, levy taxes, make a 
free man of whom they please, pardon those who have forfeited their lives. 
What other powers has any sovereign prince? But we have already shown above 
that the Dukes of Milan, Mantua, Ferrara, Florence, and Savoy hold of the 
Empire. Their most honourable title is that of Imperial Vicar and Prince of 
the Empire ... We have also pointed out the absurdities that ensue if one 
makes sovereigns of vassals, since the lord and his subject, the master and 
his servant, the man who makes the law and the man on whom it is imposed, 
the man who issues orders and the man who obeys them, are thereby placed on 
an equal footing. Since this cannot be, it follows that dukes, counts, and 
all those who hold of another, or are bound by his laws and subject to his 
commands, whether of right or by constraint, are not sovereign. The same 
holds good of the highest officers of state, lieutenant-generals of the 
king, governors, regents, dictators, whatever the extent of their powers. 
They are not sovereigns since they are subject to the laws and commands of 
another and may be appealed against.

The attributes of sovereignty are therefore peculiar to the sovereign 
prince, for if communicable to the subject, they cannot be called attributes 
of sovereignty ... Just as Almighty God cannot create another God equal with 
Himself, since He is infinite and two infinities cannot co-exist, so the 
sovereign prince, who is the image of God, cannot make a subject equal with 
himself without self-destruction.

If this is so, it follows that rights of jurisdiction are not attributes of 
sovereignty since they are exercised by subjects as well as the prince. The 
same is true of the appointment and dismissal of officials, for this power 
also the prince shares with the subject, not only in regard to the lesser 
offices of justice, of police, of the armed forces, or of the revenues, but 
also in regard to responsible commanders in peace and war ... The infliction 
of penalties and the bestowing of awards is not an attribute of sovereignty 
either, for the magistrate has this power, though it is true he derives it 
from the sovereign. Nor is taking counsel about affairs of state an 
attribute of sovereignty, for such is the proper function of the privy 
council or senate in the commonwealth, a body always distinct from that in 
which sovereignty is vested. Even in the popular state, where sovereignty 
lies in the assembly of the people, so far from it being the function of the 
assembly to take counsel, it ought never be permitted to do so, as I shall 
show later.

It is clear therefore that none of the three functions of the state that 
Aristotle distinguishes are properly attributes of sovereignty. As for what 
Halicarnassus says about Marcus Valerius' speech to the people of Rome, when 
trying to pacify them, that they should be content with the prerogatives of 
making law and appointing magistrates, he does not make the point 
sufficiently clear. As I have already said, appointing to office is not an 
attribute of sovereignty. Moreover some further explanation is necessary of 
the nature of the law-making power. A magistrate can make laws binding on 
those subject to his jurisdiction, provided such laws do not conflict with 
the edicts and ordinances of his sovereign prince.

Before going any further, one must consider what is meant by law. The word 
law signifies the right command of that person, or those persons, who have 
absolute authority over all the rest without exception, saving only the 
law-giver himself, whether the command touches all subjects in general or 
only some in particular. To put it another way, the law is the rightful 
command of the sovereign touching all his subjects in general, or matters 
of general application ... As to the commands of the magistrate, they are 
not properly speaking laws but only edicts. 'An edict', says Varro, 'is an 
order issued by a magistrate.' Such orders are only binding on those subject 
to his jurisdiction, and are only in force for his term of office.

The first attribute of the sovereign prince therefore is the power to make 
law binding on all his subjects in general and on each in particular. But to 
avoid any ambiguity one must add that he does so without the consent of any 
superior, equal, or inferior being necessary. If the prince can only make 
law with the consent of a superior he is a subject; if of an equal he shares 
his sovereignty; if of an inferior, whether it be a council of magnates or 
the people, it is not he who is sovereign. The names of the magnates that 
one finds appended to a royal edict are not there to give force to the law, 
but as witnesses, and to make it more acceptable ... When I say that the 
first attribute of sovereignty is to give law to all in general and each in 
particular, I mean by this last phrase the grant of privileges. I mean by a 
privilege a concession to one or a small group of individuals which concerns 
the profit or loss of those persons only. ...

It may be objected however that not only have magistrates the power of 
issuing edicts and ordinances, each according to his competence and within 
his own sphere of jurisdiction, but private citizens can make law in the 
form of general or local custom. It is agreed that customary law is as 
binding as statute law. But if the sovereign prince is author of the law, 
his subjects are the authors of custom. But there is a difference between 
law and custom. Custom establishes itself gradually over a long period of 
years, and by common consent, or at any rate the consent of the greater 
part. Law is made on the instant and draws its force from him who has the 
right to bind all the rest. Custom is established imperceptibly and without 
any exercise of compulsion. Law is promulgated and imposed by authority, and 
often against the wishes of the subject. For this reason Dion Chrysostom 
compared custom to the king and law to the tyrant. Moreover law can break 
custom, but custom cannot derogate from the law, nor can the magistrate, or 
any other responsible for the administration of law, use his discretion 
about the enforcement of law as he can about custom. Law, unless it is 
permissive and relaxes the severity of another law, always carries penalties 
for its breach. Custom only has binding force by the sufferance and during 
the good pleasure of the sovereign prince, and so far as he is willing to 
authorize it. Thus the force of both statutes and customary law derives from 
the authorization of the prince ... Included in the power of making and 
unmaking law is that of promulgating it and amending it when it is obscure, 
or when the magistrates find contradictions and absurdities. ...

All the other attributes and rights of sovereignty are included in this 
power of making and unmaking law, so that strictly speaking this is the 
unique attribute of sovereign power. It includes all other rights of 
sovereignty, that is to say of making peace and war, of hearing appeals from 
the sentences of all courts whatsoever, of appointing and dismissing the 
great officers of state; of taxing, or granting privileges of exemption to 
all subjects, of appreciating or depreciating the value and weight of the 
coinage, of receiving oaths of fidelity from subjects and liege-vassals 
alike, without exception of any other to whom faith is due. ...

But because law is an imprecise and general term, it is as well to specify 
the other attributes of sovereignty comprised in it, such as the making of 
war and peace. This is one of the most important rights of sovereignty, 
since it brings in its train either the ruin or the salvation of the state. 
This was a right of sovereignty not only among the ancient Romans, but has 
always been so among all other peoples... Sovereign princes are therefore 
accustomed to keep themselves informed of the smallest accidents and 
undertakings connected with warfare. Whatever latitude they may give to 
their representatives to negotiate peace or an alliance, they never grant 
the authority to conclude without their own express consent. This was 
illustrated in the negotiations leading up to the recent treaty of 
Cteaux-Cambrsis, when the king's envoys kept him almost hourly informed of 
all proposals and counter-proposals ... In popular states and aristocracies 
the difficulty of assembling the people, and the danger of making public all 
the secrets of diplomacy has meant that the people have generally handed 
responsibility over to the council. Nevertheless it remains true that the 
commissions and the orders that it issues in discharge of this function 
proceed from the authority of the people, and are despatched by the council 
in the name of the people. ... 

The third attribute of sovereignty is the power to institute the great 
officers of state. It has never been questioned that the right is an 
attribute of sovereignty, at any rate as far as the great officers are 
concerned. I confine it however to high officials, for there is no 
commonwealth in which these officers, and many guilds and corporate bodies 
besides, have not some power of appointing their subordinate officials. They 
do this in virtue of their office, which carries with it the power to 
delegate. For instance, those who hold feudal rights of jurisdiction of 
their sovereign prince in faith and homage have the power to appoint the 
judges in their courts, and their assistants. But this power is devolved 
upon them by the prince ... It is therefore not the mere appointment of 
officials that implies sovereign right, but the authorization and 
confirmation of such appointments. It is true however that in so far as the 
exercise of this right is delegated, the sovereignty of the prince is to 
that extent qualified, unless his concurrence and express consent is 
required.

The fourth attribute of sovereignty, and one which has always been among its 
principal rights, is that the prince should be the final resort of appeal 
from all other courts... Even though the prince may have published a law, as 
did Caligula, forbidding any appeal or petition against the sentences of his 
officers, nevertheless the subject cannot be deprived of the right to make 
an appeal, or present a petition, to the prince in person. For the prince 
cannot tie his own hands in this respect, nor take from his subjects the 
means of redress, supplication, and petition, notwithstanding the fact that 
all rules governing appeals and jurisdictions are matters of positive law, 
which we have shown does not bind the prince. This is why the Privy Council, 
including the Chancellor de l'Hpital, considered the action of the 
commissioners deputed to hold an enquiry into the conduct of the President 
l'Alemant[12] irregular and unprecedented. They had forbidden him to 
approach within twenty leagues of the court, with the intention of denying 
him any opportunity of appeal. The king himself could not deny this right 
to the subject, though he is free to make whatsoever reply to the appeal, 
favourable or unfavourable, that he pleases ... Were it otherwise, and the 
prince could acquit his subjects or his vassals from the obligation to 
submit their causes to him in the last instance, he would make of them 
sovereigns equal with himself... But if he would preserve his authority, the 
surest way of doing so is to avoid ever devolving any of the attributes of 
sovereignty upon a subject. ...

With this right is coupled the right of pardoning convicted persons, and so 
of overruling the sentences of his own courts, in mitigation of the severity 
of the law, whether touching life, property, honour, or domicile. It is not 
in the power of any magistrate, whatever his station, to do any of these 
things, or to make any revision of the judgement he has once given ... In a 
well-ordered commonwealth the right should never be delegated either to a 
special commission, or to any high officer of state, save in those 
circumstances where it is necessary to establish a regency, either because 
the king is abroad in some distant place, or in captivity, or incapable, or 
under age. For instance, during the minority of Louis IX, the authority of 
the Crown was vested in his mother Blanche of Castile as his guardian ... 
Princes however tend to abuse this right, thinking that to pardon is 
pleasing to God, whereas to exact the utmost punishment is displeasing to 
Him. But I hold, subject to correction, that the sovereign prince cannot 
remit any penalty imposed by the law of God, any more than he can dispense 
any one from the operation of the law of God, to which he himself is 
subject. If the magistrate who dispenses anyone from obedience to the 
ordinance of his king merits death, how much more unwarrantable is it for 
the prince to acquit a man of the punishment ordained by God's law? If a 
sovereign prince cannot deny a subject his civil rights, how can he acquit 
him of the penalties imposed by God, such as the death penalty exacted by 
divine law for treacherous murder?

It may be objected that the prince can never show the quality of mercy if 
he cannot remit punishments prescribed by divine law. But in my opinion 
there are other means of showing clemency, such as pardoning breaches of 
positive laws. For instance, if the prince forbids the carrying of arms, or 
the selling of foodstuffs to the enemy in time of war, on pain of death, he 
can very properly pardon the offence of carrying arms if it was done in 
self-defence, or the selling of provisions if done under the pressure of 
extreme poverty. Again, the penalty for larceny under the civil law is 
death. A merciful prince can reduce this to fourfold restitution, which is 
what is required by divine law. It has always been the custom among 
Christian kings to pardon unpardonable offences on Good Friday. But pardons 
of this kind bring in their train pestilences, famine, war, and the downfall 
of states. That is why it is said in the law of God that in punishing those 
who have merited death one averts the curse on the whole people. Of a 
hundred criminals only two are brought to justice, and of those brought to 
justice only one half are proved guilty. If the few proven cases of guilt 
are pardoned, how can punishment act as a deterrent to evil-doers?... The 
best way for a prince to exercise his prerogative of mercy is to pardon 
offences against his own person. Of all exercises of mercy none is more 
pleasing to God. But what can one hope of the prince who cruelly avenges all 
injuries to himself, but pardons those inflicted on others? ...

Faith and homage are also among the most important attributes of 
sovereignty, as was made clear when the prince was described as the one to 
whom obedience was due without exception.

As for the right of coinage, it is contained within the law-making power, 
for only he who can make law can regulate currency. This is illustrated in 
the very terms used by Greeks, Romans, and French alike, for the word nummus 
comes from the Greek nomos signifying both law and alloy. There is nothing 
of more moment to a country, after the law, than the denomination, the 
value, and the weight of the coinage, as we have already shown in a separate 
treatise.[13] Therefore in every well-ordered commonwealth the prince 
reserves this right exclusively to himself... And although in this kingdom 
many private persons, such as the Vicomte de Touraine, the Bishops of Meaux, 
Cahors, Agde, Ambrun and the Counts of St. Pol, de la Marche, Nevers, Blois, 
and others enjoyed this right, Francis I in a general edict cancelled all 
such rights whatsoever, declaring the concessions null and void. This right 
and attribute of sovereignty ought not ever to be granted to a subject. ...

The right of levying taxes and imposing dues, or of exempting persons from 
the payment of such, is also part of the power of making law and granting 
privileges. Not that the levying of taxation is inseparable from the 
essence of the commonwealth, for as President Le Matre has shown, there was 
none levied in France till the time of Louis IX. But if any necessity should 
arise of imposing or withdrawing a tax, it can only be done by him who has 
sovereign authority ... It is true that many seigneurs have prescriptive 
rights of levying tallages, dues, and imposts. Even in this kingdom many 
seigneurs can levy tallage on four occasions in virtue of privileges 
confirmed by judgements in the courts, and by custom. Even seigneurs who 
have no rights of jurisdiction enjoy this privilege. But in my opinion the 
privilege started as an abuse which in consequence of long years of 
enjoyment acquired the dignity of a prescriptive right. But there is no 
abuse, of however long standing, that the law cannot amend, for the law 
exists to amend all abuses. Therefore, by the Edict of Moulins[14] it was 
ordained that all rights of tallage claimed by seigneurs over their 
dependants could no longer be levied, nothwithstanding immemorial 
prescription. ...

I have left out of this discussion those lesser prerogatives that 
individual sovereign princes claim in their own particular realms, as I have 
confined myself to those general attributes of sovereignty proper to all 
sovereign princes as such, but which, being inalienable and imprescriptible, 
cannot, of their very nature, be communicated to subordinate persons such as 
feudal lords, magistrates, or subjects of any degree whatsoever. Whatever 
grant a sovereign prince makes of lands or jurisdiction, the rights of the 
crown are always reserved. This was implied in a judgement of the High Court 
relating to appanages in France, that no passage of time could justify the 
usurpation of royal rights. If common lands cannot be acquired by 
prescription, how can the rights and attributes of sovereignty? It is 
certain, on the evidence of various edicts and ordinances, that the public 
domain is inalienable, and cannot be acquired by prescription. Over two 
thousand years ago Themistocles, in recovering common lands occupied by 
private persons, said in his speech to the people of Athens that men could 
acquire no prescriptive rights against God nor private citizens against the 
commonwealth. ...

Such are the principal characteristics of sovereign majesty, treated as 
briefly as possible, since I have already written at greater length on the 
subject in my book De Imperio.[15] It is most expedient for the preservation 
of the state that the rights of sovereignty should never be granted out to a 
subject, still less to a foreigner, for to do so is to provide a 
stepping-stone whereby the grantee himself becomes the sovereign.



1. The Anabaptist movement in the Low Countries and in Germany in the 
sixteenth century caused widespread fear and anger out of all proportion to 
its real threat, because the doctrine that the visible Church consisted of 
a congregation of the elect, or those illuminated by the inner light, under 
a shepherd, challenged all officially organized and inclusive Churches 
whether Catholic, Lutheran, or Calvinist. Attention centred on Mnster where 
there was such a congregation of Anabaptists that they established control 
over the nominally episcopal city. They took as their second leader in 1534, 
John of Leyden, who established a rgime of communism and polygamy. It took 
an army raised by the Diet, and a seige of eighteen months, to capture the 
city, when John of Leyden was executed and the community dissipated. Bodin 
returns several times to the episode as a good illustration of all that he 
disapproved of. See p. 112 and p. 143.

2. Methodus ad facilem historiarum cognitionem, chap. VI (1566). Translated 
by B. Reynolds in the Records of Civilization, No. XXXVII, published by 
Columbia University as The Method for the Easy Comprehension of History.

3. The term used is cit?in the sense of the Latin civitas or the 
contemporary Italian citt? a city-state centred in a town, but including 
all the inhabitants of the surrounding district under its jurisdiction.

4. Ei et in eum omnem potestatem contulit.

5. Nulla obligatio consistere potest, quae a voluntate promittentis statum 
capit.

6. There is a marginal reference to Innocent IV.

7. The term used is 'lois royales'.

8. A reference to Thodore Bza, Du droit des Magistrats, 1576?

9. These Estates met in 1484 after the death of Louis XI. Despite the 
opportunity offered by the dispute over the regency, the only matter 
pressed by them was a reduction of the tailles to the lower scale of the 
times of Charles VII. Though concessions were made to this effect, the 
government made no surrender in principle of its absolute control of 
finance. The stand made by de Comines earned him dismissal from office and 
five years' imprisonment.

10. This must be a reference to Gelasius I, 493-96, whose pronouncements on 
the separation of powers were incorporated in the Canon Law. Bodin was 
however ascribing to St. Gelasius views developed by medieval popes, for he 
only claimed priority in dignity not in power for the spiritual authority, 
and spoke of priestly authority and imperial authority as such, and not 
popes and kings. Gelasius II, 1118-19, held the views Bodin described, but 
when he declared the Emperor Henry V deposed, he was no innovator, but only 
acting upon the precedent set by Gregory VII in deposing Henry IV,

11. Gregory I, 590-603.

12. I have been unable to identify this episode.

13. This treatise was published three times under different titles. In 1568 
as Rponse au paradoxe de Monsieur de Malestroict, in 1574 as Discours sur 
les causes de l'extrme chert?qui est aujourd'hui en France, and in 1578 as 
Discours de Jean Bodin sur le rehaussement et diminution des Monnaies. In 
1591 a Latin translation appeared.

14. The Ordinance of Moulins, 1566, was an important measure dealing with 
many aspects of the administration of justice, including feudal and 
ecclesiastical privilege.

15. This has not survived. In his will Bodin directed that many of his 
earlier or less important works should be destroyed. The De Imperio belongs 
to the Toulouse period, and was probably a sketch of parts of the Six books 
of the Commonwealth. 

____________

BOOK II

Of the Different Kinds of Commonwealth [CHAPTER I]

Now that we have determined what sovereignty is, and have described its 
rights and attributes, we must consider in whom it is vested in every kind 
of commonwealth, in order to determine what are the various possible types 
of state. If sovereignty is vested in a single prince we call the state a 
monarchy. If all the people share in it, it is a popular state. If only a 
minority, it is an aristocracy.

It is desirable to be exact in the use of these terms in order to avoid the 
confusion which has arisen as a result of the great variety of governments, 
good and bad. This has misled some into distinguishing more than three kinds 
of commonwealth. But if one adopts the principle of distinguishing between 
commonwealths according to the particular virtues and vices that are 
characteristic of each, one is soon faced with an infinity of variations. 
It is a principle of all sound definition that one should pay no regard to 
accidental properties, which are innumerable, but confine oneself to formal 
and essential distinctions. Otherwise one becomes entangled in a labyrinth 
which defies exact analysis. For there is no reason why one should stop 
short at the difference between good and bad. There are other inessential 
variations. A king can be chosen for his strength, his beauty, his fame, his 
noble birth, his wealth, all of them matters of indifference. Or he may be 
chosen because he is the most warlike or most peace-loving, the wisest, the 
most just, a lover of display, of great learning, the most prudent, the most 
modest, the simplest, the most chaste. One could add to the list 
indefinitely and arrive at an infinity of types of monarchy. It would be the 
same in the case of aristocracies. The ruling class might be drawn from the 
rich, the nobles, or those esteemed as wise, or just, or warlike. Moreover, 
one would have to make a similar reckoning of bad qualities. The result 
would be merely absurd, and for this reason such a method of classification 
must be rejected.

Since then the nature of things is not changed by their accidental 
properties, we conclude that there are only three types of state, or 
commonwealth, monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. A state is called a 
monarchy when sovereignty is vested in one person, and the rest have only to 
obey. Democracy, or the popular state, is one in which all the people, or a 
majority among them, exercise sovereign power collectively. A state is an 
aristocracy when a minority collectively enjoy sovereign power and impose 
law on the rest, generally and severally.

All the ancients agree that there are at least three types of commonwealth. 
Some have added a fourth composed of a mixture of the other three. Plato 
added a fourth type, or rule of the wise. But this, properly speaking, is 
only the purest form that aristocracy can take. He did not accept a mixed 
state as a fourth type. Aristotle accepted both Plato's fourth type and the 
mixed state, making five in all. Polybius distinguished seven, three good, 
three bad, and one composed of a mixture of the three good. Dionysius 
Halicarnassus only admitted four, the three pure types, and a mixture of 
them. Cicero, and following his example, Sir Thomas More in his 
Commonwealth, Contarini,[1] Machiavelli,[2] and many others have held the 
same opinion. This view has the dignity of antiquity. It was not new when 
propounded by Polybius, who is generally credited with its invention, nor by 
Aristotle. It goes back four hundred years earlier to Herodotus. He said 
that many thought that the mixed was the best type, but for his part he 
thought there were only three types, and all others were imperfect forms. I 
should have been convinced by the authority of such great names, but that 
reason and common sense compels me to hold the opposing view. One must show 
then not only why these views are erroneous but why the arguments and 
examples they rely on do not really prove their point. ...

If sovereignty is, of its very nature, indivisible, as we have shown, how 
can a prince, a ruling class, and the people, all have a part in it at the 
same time? The first attribute of sovereignty is the power to make law 
binding on the subject. But in such a case who will be the subjects that 
obey, if they also have a share in the law-making power? And who will be the 
law-giver if he is also himself forced to receive it from those upon whom he 
has imposed it? One is forced to the conclusion that if no one in particular 
has the power to make law, but it belongs to all indifferently, then the 
commonwealth is a popular state. If power is given to the people to make 
law, and appoint to office, but all other powers are denied them, it must 
nevertheless be recognized that these other powers, vested in officials, 
really belong to the people, and are only entrusted by them to the 
magistrates. The people, having instituted the latter, can also deprive 
them, and the state therefore remains a popular one. In order to confirm 
what I have just said, let us look more closely at the examples of mixed 
states cited by Polybius, Contarini and others. ...

One of the examples given is Rome, whose constitution, it is alleged, was a 
mixture of monarchy, democracy, and aristocracy, in such a way that 
according to Polybius the Consuls embody the monarchical principle, the 
Senate the aristocratic, the Estates of the people the democratic. 
Halicarnassus, Cicero, Contarini, and others have accepted this analysis, 
inaccurate as it is. In the first place monarchical power cannot subsist in 
two persons simultaneously, since monarchy by definition is the rule of one. 
If it is divided, there is either no monarchy, or no kingdom. One could, 
with more reason, describe the Doge of Genoa or Venice as a monarch. But in 
any case what kingly power could be ascribed to the Consuls, seeing that 
they could not make law, declare war and peace, appoint any officials, 
pardon any offenders, spend a penny of public money, or even condemn a 
citizen to corporal punishment except in time of war? This last power 
belongs to any leader in the field. These would also have to be called 
kings, and with more reason. The Constable in this realm, and the great 
Pascha in Turkey have ten times the power of the two Consuls put together, 
yet they are no more than the subjects and slaves of the prince, as the 
Consuls were of the people. ...

Again, conduct of affairs of state undertaken by the Senate, and the 
decisions reached by it, had no force unless confirmed by the people, or 
assented to by the tribunes, as will be explained more fully when we come 
to deal with the council in the state. There can be no real doubt that the 
Roman constitution, from the moment that the kings were expelled, was 
popular, except for the two years of the Decemvirate, erected to revise the 
laws and customs. This temporarily converted the constitution into an 
aristocracy, or rather, oligarchy. I have said above that the authority of 
magistrates, of whatever degree they may be, is never properly their own, 
but enjoyed by them as a trust. It is clear that the people originally 
elected the Senate, but in order to get rid of the burden of so doing, they 
committed this power to the censors, who were, of course, also elected by 
the people. Thus all the authority of the Senate derived from the people. 
The people were accustomed to confirm or annul, ratify or veto the decisions 
of the Senate according to their good pleasure. 

Contarini has analysed the Republic of Venice in the same way, describing 
it as a mixture of three pure types, as was that of Rome. He identifies 
royal power with that of the Doge, aristocratic with the Senate, and popular 
with the Great Council... But it is only a small minority of Venetians, 
drawn from noble families, that enjoys sovereign power. By no means all 
gentlemen who are natives of Venice are participants, for some of these 
citizens are eligible for the Great Council and others are not, although 
they may be of the same extraction, the same kin, and even bear the same 
names. I need not explain how this comes to be so, for it is all in 
Sabellico.[3] The Great Council, says Contarini, has power to make and 
unmake laws, institute and deprive officials, hear appeals, determine peace 
and war, pardon the convicted. But in saying this Contarini is condemned out 
of his own mouth. If it is as he says, it follows that the constitution of 
the Republic is an aristocracy, even though the Great Council's only direct 
power is the institution to office, for whatever power these officials 
enjoy, they hold them in trust. It follows that neither the Ten, nor the 
Senate, nor the Ministers of State, nor even the Doge himself with the six 
ducal councillors have any authority save by commission, and depend on the 
good pleasure of the Great Council. ...

There are those who say, and have published in writing, that the 
constitution of France is a mixture of the three pure types, the Parlement 
representing aristocracy, the Estates-General democracy, and the King 
monarchy.[4] But this is an opinion not only absurd but treasonable. It is 
treasonable to exalt the subjects to be the equals and colleagues of their 
sovereign prince. And what resemblance is there to a popular form of 
government in the Estates, seeing that each particular member and all in 
general, kneel in the king's presence, and address him by humble prayers and 
supplications, which he accepts or rejects as he thinks fit. What 
counter-weight of popular sovereignty can be set against the monarchy in an 
assembly of the three estates, or even an assembly of the entire people, 
were that physically possible, seeing that they approach the king with 
supplication and entreaty, and address him in terms of reverence? So far 
from diminishing the power of a sovereign prince, such an assembly enhances 
and emphasizes it. The king can attain no higher degree of honour, power, 
and glory, than he enjoys at the moment when an infinite number of princes 
and seigneurs, an innumerable multitude of people of all sorts and 
conditions, cast themselves at his feet, and pay homage to his majesty. The 
honour, glory, and power of princes lies in the obedience, homage, and 
service of their subjects.

If then there is no vestige of popular sovereignty in the assembly of the 
three estates of this realm, no more, or even less, than there is in those 
of Spain and England, still less is there any trace of aristocratic 
authority either in the Court of Peers, or any assembly of the officers of 
the kingdom, seeing that in the king's presence the authority of all 
corporations and colleges, of all officers of the realm collectively or 
severally, is suspended, so that no magistrate whatsoever has power to issue 
commands in his presence, as we shall show in due course. ...

But, someone may say, could you not have a commonwealth where the people 
appointed to office, controlled the expenditure of the revenue and had the 
right of pardon, which are three of the attributes of sovereignty; where the 
nobles made laws, determined peace and war, and levied taxes, which are also 
attributes of sovereignty; and where there was a supreme magistrate set over 
all the rest, to whom liege-homage was due by all the people severally and 
collectively, and who was the final and absolute resort of justice. Would 
not such arrangements involve a division of sovereign rights, and imply a 
composite commonwealth which was at once monarchical, aristocratic and 
popular? I would reply that none such has ever existed, and could never 
exist or even be clearly imagined, seeing that the attributes of sovereignty 
are indivisible. Whoever could make laws for all the rest, that is to say 
command or forbid whatever he wished, without there being any right to 
appeal against or resist his orders, could forbid the declaration of war, 
the levying of taxes, the swearing of oaths of fealty, without his consent. 
Or the man to whom liege-homage was due could forbid both nobles and people 
from obedience to any person but himself. Such situations could only be 
resolved by an appeal to arms, until by this means it was decided whether 
final authority remained in the prince, or a ruling class, or in the people 
... Since the King of Denmark has been compelled to share sovereign power 
with the nobility, that kingdom has never enjoyed any secure peace. The same 
is true of Sweden, where the King is so mistrustful of the nobles that he 
employs a German as Chancellor, and a Norman gentleman called Varennes as 
Constable. ...

There is just one other point to be considered. The Republic of Rome, under 
the Empire of Augustus, and for long after, was called a principality. This 
appears to be a form of commonwealth not mentioned by Herodotus, Plato, 
Aristotle or even Polybius, who enumerated seven ... But I would reply that 
in many aristocratic or popular states one particular magistrate has 
precedence over all the rest in dignity and authority. Such are the Emperor 
in Germany, the Doge in Venice, and in ancient times the Archon in Athens. 
But this does not change the form of the state ... A principality is 
nothing but an aristocracy or a democracy which has a single person as 
president or premier of the republic, but who nevertheless holds of those in 
whom sovereign power resides.

Concerning Despotic Monarchy [CHAPTER II]

... ALL monarchies are either despotic, royal, or tyrannical. These however 
are not different species of commonwealth, but different modes of operation 
in their governments. It is important that a clear distinction be made 
between the form of the state, and the form of the government, which is 
merely the machinery of policing the state, though no one has yet considered 
it in that light. To illustrate, a state may be a monarchy, but it is 
governed democratically if the prince distributes lands, magistracies, 
offices, and honours indifferently to all, without regard to the claims of 
either birth or wealth or virtue. Or a monarchy can be governed 
aristocratically when the prince confines the distribution of lands and 
offices to the nobles, the most worthy, or the rich, as the case may be. 
Again, an aristocracy can conduct its government democratically if it 
bestows honours and rewards on all alike, or aristocratically if it reserves 
them for the rich and nobly born. This variety in forms of government has 
misled those who have written confusedly about politics, through failure to 
distinguish the form of the commonwealth from the form of the government.

Royal, or legitimate, monarchy is one in which the subject obeys the laws 
of the prince, the prince in his turn obeys the laws of God, and natural 
liberty and the natural right to property is secured to all. Despotic 
monarchy is one in which the prince is lord and master of both the 
possessions and the persons of his subjects by right of conquest in a just 
war; he governs his subjects as absolutely as the head of a household 
governs his slaves. Tyrannical monarchy is one in which the laws of nature 
are set at naught, free subjects oppressed as if they were slaves, and their 
property treated as if it belonged to the tyrant. Exactly the same diversity 
is to be found in aristocracies and popular states, for each in its turn can 
be either legitimate, despotic, or tyrannical in the way I have described.

Despotic monarchy must be considered first, as it is the earliest kind of 
government known to men. They are in error who accept Aristotle's opinion 
that the primitive kings of heroic times were elected by the people. We 
have evidence that the first monarchy that ever came into being arose in 
Assyria, in the time of Nimrod.[5] The Scriptures speak of him as the mighty 
hunter, which in Hebrew is a common way of referring to a robber. Aristotle 
and Plato themselves include brigandage as a form of the chase. Before 
Nimrod's time there was none who had authority or domination over others. 
His very name indicates his character, for Nimrod signifies 'terrible and 
mighty lord'. Not long after his time, during the life of Shem, Noah's son, 
the world was found to be full of slaves, and throughout the Scriptures the 
subjects of the Kings of Assyria and Egypt are always referred to as 
slaves. The Greeks too were convinced that whereas they themselves were 
free, the barbarians were enslaved, and by barbarians they meant the 
inhabitants of Persia and Asia. When the Kings of Persia made war, they 
always laid claim to both land and water, by way of indicating, says 
Plutarch, that they were the absolute lords of all property and all persons 
whatsoever. ...

Despotic monarchy must not be confused with tyranny. There is nothing 
unfitting in a prince who has defeated his enemies in a good and just war, 
assuming an absolute right to their possessions and their persons under the 
laws of war, and thereafter governing them as his slaves; just as the head 
of a household is the master of his slaves and their goods, and disposes of 
them as he thinks fit, under the law of nations. But the prince who by an 
unjust war, or any other means, enslaves a free people and seizes their 
property, is not a despot but a tyrant. ...

Nowadays, by comparison with the number of tyrannies, there are few despotic 
monarchies save in Asia, Ethiopia, and those parts of Europe governed by the 
Kings of Tartary and of Muscovy. According to the History of Muscovy[6] the 
subjects are called chlopes which means slaves ... Elsewhere in Europe, and 
in the kingdoms of Barbary, I know of no despotic monarchies... The people 
of Europe are prouder and more belligerent than the inhabitants of Asia and 
of Africa, and have never submitted to despotic rule since the Hungarian 
invasions. Thus Odovacer, who ruled at that time, took a third part of the 
lands of the vanquished when he subdued Italy, in accordance with the usual 
penalty inflicted on a conquered people. But he left them their freedom, and 
absolute control of the property that remained to them, without dues, or 
oaths of fidelity, or homage whatsoever. But subsequently the Germans, the 
Lombards, the Franks, Saxons, Burgundians, Goths, Ostrogoths, Angles, and 
other tribes, having experienced the customs of the oriental Hungarians, 
began to conduct themselves as lords and masters, not, it is true, of the 
persons of the conquered peoples, but of their property. They then gradually 
established rights of overlordship of land, and claims to faith and homage, 
and other rights knowns as feudal rights, thereby perpetuating the shadow, 
though in a very attenuated form, of the primitive despotic monarchies. ...

It may occur to someone to object that despotic monarchy is really a 
tyranny, seeing that it is a violation of the law of nature to deny anyone 
his personal liberty, and the free disposal of his own goods. I agree that 
it is against the law of nature to enslave a free man, and to seize the 
goods of another. But there is, and always has been, universal agreement 
that what is won in a just war is the property of the victor, and that the 
vanquished are his slaves. A monarchy so established is not a tyranny. We 
read in Holy Writ that Jacob left property to his children by will, which he 
claimed as his own because he had won it by force of arms. Moreover the 
custom whereby it is recognized that there can be no just war where there is 
a superior to settle disputes, implies that where there is no superior, 
recourse to arms is justified. This is illustrated in Germany, where the 
Princes and Imperial Free Cities are subjected to the imperial ban if they 
will not restore that which they have seized from another. Otherwise, if we 
make no distinction between despotism and tyranny, we can make no 
distinction between rights of war against an enemy and theft, between the 
just prince and the brigand, between a war justly undertaken and a mere 
exercise of violence.

Generally speaking we find that tyrannies quickly come to ruin, but that 
despotic states and despotic monarchies have proved both great and enduring, 
such as the monarchies of the Assyrians, the Medes, Persians, and Egyptians 
in ancient times, and in our own day that of Ethiopia where, if we are to 
believe Paolo Giovio, the Negus commands fifty kings as his subject 
slaves.[7] The reason why despotic monarchy is more lasting than the others 
is that it is the most authoritative. The lives, the goods, the liberty of 
the subjects are at the absolute disposal of the prince who has conquered 
them in a just war. This greatly discourages unruliness in the subject. As 
with slaves, awareness of their condition makes them humble, timid, 
'servile' as they say. But men who are free, and masters of what is their 
own, resent any attempt to enslave them or take their property. They are 
quick to resist, not being debased by servitude, because they have the 
courageous spirit that is born of freedom. So much for despotic monarchy. 
Let us now consider royal monarchy.

Concerning Royal Monarchy [CHAPTER III]

A TRUE king is one who observes the laws of nature as punctiliously as he 
wishes his subjects to observe his own laws, thereby securing to them their 
liberty, and the enjoyment of their own property. I have added these last 
qualifications in order to distinguish kingship from despotism. A despot 
can be a just and virtuous prince, and an equitable governor of his people, 
but he is the master of their persons and their goods. If a despot who has 
overcome his enemies in a just war, restores to them their liberty, and 
permits them to dispose of themselves and their possessions as they wish, he 
ceases to be a despot and becomes a king. ...

In defining royal monarchy I have said that the subjects should obey the 
king, to make it clear that sovereign majesty is vested in him, and I have 
said that the king should obey the laws of nature, to show that he should 
govern in accordance with the principles of natural justice, which are as 
obvious, as clear and illuminating as the light of the sun.

It is therefore the authentic mark of kingship that the prince is as mild 
and pliable to the laws of nature as he wishes his subjects to be to him. 
This means that he is one that fears God, is merciful to the afflicted, 
prudent in his undertakings, brave in action, modest in prosperity, constant 
in adversity, true to his plighted word, wise in council, careful of his 
subjects, helpful to his friends, terrible to his enemies, courteous to men 
of good birth, a scourge of evil-doers, and just towards all. In such a 
state there is the rule of law rather than of men, or as Pindar puts it, the 
law is king, since the prince obeys the laws of nature, and the people the 
civil laws. The result is a condition of mutual harmony between the king and 
his obedient subjects, and a happy and unforced agreement the one with the 
other.

Monarchy so conducted is properly called royal and legitimate. This is so 
whether the king succeeds by hereditary right as did the ancient kings, as 
Thucydides truly observes; or whether the succession is governed by some law 
excluding women and their heirs male, as is the case in this kingdom under 
the salic law; or whether the king is elected as Aristotle says was the case 
with primitive kings (though in this case he ignores the truths of history, 
and what Thucydides himself records), and still is the case in many 
northern kingdoms; or whether the crown is received as a free gift, as when 
Augustus gave Numidia, recently reduced to a subject province of the Empire, 
to Juba the Younger, or when the kingdom of the Sicilies was given first to 
Charles of France, and then to Louis of France, Duke of Anjou; or whether it 
is disposed of by will, as is the custom in the kingdoms of Thunes, Fez, and 
Morocco, and as was done by Henry VIII, King of England, who left the crown 
first to his son Edward, and then to Mary and then Elizabeth, who later 
succeeded (though in this case the will was ratified by the people). If a 
man seize the crown by subtle practices, as did Cecrops, Hiero, and Gelo 
according to Pindar, and in our own times Cosimo de' Medici, Duke of 
Florence,[8] he is a king if he reigns justly ... Even if he conquers his 
kingdom by force of arms, rightly or wrongly, provided that he rules the 
people so conquered equitably, he is a true king, as Livy said of King 
Servius. In fact, one often finds that a robber and brigand turns into a 
virtuous prince, and a violent tyranny becomes a just monarchy ... 
Monarchies cannot be distinguished one from another by the method of 
succession, but only by the way they are conducted, and of these there are 
only the three varieties, despotic, royal, and tyrannical ... So much for 
royal monarchy. Let us turn to tyranny.

Concerning Tyrannical Monarchy [CHAPTERS IV AND V]

A TYRANNICAL monarchy is one in which the monarch tramples underfoot the 
laws of nature, in that he abuses the natural liberty of his subjects by 
making them his slaves, and invades the property of others by treating it 
as his own. The word tyrant, which in Greek was originally an honourable 
term, merely signified the prince who had come into power without the 
goodwill of his subjects, and from being an equal had raised himself to be 
their master. Such a one, even though he proved a wise and just prince, was 
called a tyrant. Plato, writing to the tyrant Dionysius, addressed him in 
that style as a mark of respect, 'Plato to the tyrant Dionysius, greeting'. 
The fact that Pittacus and Penander, who were numbered among the seven sages 
of Greece, were called tyrants because they had seized the government of 
their realms, is sufficient proof that the term was used of good as well as 
bad rulers.

But those who by force or fraud had seized sovereign power soon found that 
their lives were exposed to the vengeance of their rivals, and were 
compelled for their own safety to employ foreigners as a bodyguard, and to 
build great fortresses as a refuge. Their upkeep then compelled them to 
levy heavy taxes and imposts. Discovering nevertheless that their friends 
were weak and their enemies powerful, they were prompted to put to death or 
to banish the latter to enrich the former. The most abandoned ravished not 
only goods, but women and children. The consequence was that tyrants became 
loathed and detested. We read that Dionysius the Elder, tyrant of Syracuse, 
maintained a guard of ten thousand foot and ten thousand horse, besides four 
hundred armed galleys. He could rely on the loyalty of so few citizens that 
he forbad them to meet together, even for private banquets, however closely 
the participants might be related to one another, and he encouraged assaults 
on anyone going home from such a gathering. Nevertheless Plutarch admits 
that he was a good ruler, and governed better and more justly than many 
princes who styled themselves kings. ...

But it is possible that the same man may conduct himself as a despot to some 
of his subjects, a king to others and a tyrant to the rest. For instance he 
may tyrannize over the rich and the nobility, but be a beneficent protector 
of the poor. For tyranny is always a matter of degree, more or less. There 
is no prince, however worthy, who has not some notable vice. There is no 
tyrant, however cruel, who has not some virtue, or laudable quality. For 
this reason it is most ill-advised and dangerous to condemn a prince without 
a proper understanding of his conduct, and without balancing his good deeds 
against his bad, his heroic exploits against his mortal wickednesses. The 
Persians for instance never condemned anyone till it could be shown that 
the evil that he did outweighed the good.

In contrasting the king and the tyrant therefore we must take the extreme 
cases of the good and just king, and the utterly detestable tyrant, to make 
the distinction between them clear. But be it noted that by a good and just 
king I mean one who is popularly accepted as such, and not some impossible 
ideal figure of heroic proportions, or a paragon of wisdom, justice, and 
piety, without blame or reproach. Such perfection is all too rare. I mean by 
a good and just king one who consistently strives to be such, and who puts 
all that he has, even to his life's blood, at the service of his people. 
Such were a Codrus, or a Decius. Apprehending that victory depended on their 
deaths, they forthwith laid down their lives. But best of all examples is 
that of Moses, whom Philo calls the wise legislator, just king, and great 
prophet. He prayed God the rather to blot out his name from the book of 
life than that the people should go unpardoned, preferring rather his own 
damnation than that the people should perish. Here indeed is the likeness 
of the true prince and the father of his people.

The most notable distinction between the king and the tyrant is that the 
king conforms to the laws of nature and the tyrant tramples them underfoot. 
The one is guided by piety, justice, and faith. The other denies his God, 
his faith, and the law. The one does that which he believes will further the 
common good, and the welfare of his subjects. The other consults only his 
own profit, vengeance, or pleasure. The one tries to enrich his subjects by 
any means he can discover. The other builds his prosperity on the ruin of 
other people's. The one avenges injuries done to his subjects but pardons 
those committed against himself. The other takes a cruel revenge for 
injuries done to himself but pardons those done to others. The one 
encourages free speech on the part of his subjects to the point of wise 
rebuke when he has failed in his duty. The other dislikes none so much as 
the serious, free-spirited, and virtuous citizen. The one tries to keep his 
subjects in peace and unity among themselves. The other sows dissensions, 
that his subjects may ruin one another, and he himself grow rich on the 
profits thereof. The one takes pleasure in being seen and heard by his 
subjects. The other shuts himself away as from his mortal enemies. The one 
bases his rule on the love of his people, the other on their fear. The one 
only imposes burdens on his people when absolutely necessary, and is as 
moderate as possible in his demands. The other sucks the marrow from the 
bones of his subjects, and bleeds them white to keep them weak. The one 
seeks out upright men to fill the public offices. The other sells them to 
the highest bidder in order to vex his subjects by setting robbers on them, 
and then executes the thieves in order to get himself the reputation of a 
just ruler. The one conforms his conduct to the laws, the other makes the 
laws subserve his convenience. The one is loved and revered by his subjects, 
the other is hated by all and hates all. The one appeals to the assistance 
of his own subjects in time of war, and keeps no garrison unless they man 
it. The other makes war on his subjects and surrounds himself with foreign 
guards. The one lives in peace and security, in expectation of eternal 
felicity, honoured in this life and regretted after death. The other drags 
out his existence in perpetual terror, without the hope of escaping eternal 
punishment, defamed while alive, and cursed after his death. There is no 
need to verify all these truths by a wealth of examples, for they are known 
to all. ...

One must not however label as evidence of tyranny the executions, 
banishments, confiscations and other deeds of violence that mark a 
revolution or restoration in a commonwealth. Such changes are necessarily 
violent, as was illustrated by what happened at the establishment of the 
Triumvirate in Rome, and at the election of many of the Emperors. It is not 
proper, either, to call Cosimo de' Medici a tyrant for building a citadel, 
surrounding himself with foreign guards, and taxing his subjects heavily 
for their upkeep, after the assassination of Alessandro, Duke of Florence. 
Such medicine was necessary to a commonwealth ravaged by so many seditions 
and insurrections, and for a licentious and unruly populace, everlastingly 
plotting against the new duke, though he was accounted one of the wisest and 
most virtuous princes of his age. On the contrary it often happens that 
mildness in a prince would ruin a commonwealth, whereas severity saves it. 
It is sufficiently notorious that the tyranny of Domitian was terrible to 
the Senate, the nobles, the great lords, and governors of the Roman Empire. 
Nevertheless after his death he was held in great honour by the 
provincials, for never had they known better officers and magistrates, kept 
in awe as these had been by fear of the Emperor. ...

Those who go about uttering extravagant praises of princes who are mild, 
gracious, courteous, and simple, are greatly in error. Simplicity without 
prudence is dangerous and pernicious in a king, and much more to be dreaded 
than the cruelty of a severe, close-fisted, and inaccessible prince. Our 
forefathers did not without reason coin the phrase 'a bad man makes a good 
king'. This sounds strange to sensitive ears, and to those not accustomed to 
weigh one thing against another. The tolerance and foolish simplicity of too 
good a prince admits flatterers, place-hunters, and undesirables of all 
sorts to the offices, charges, and places of profit in the commonwealth. 
Thereby the finances are exhausted, and the faces of the poor ground to 
serve the benefit of the rich. Instead of one tyrant they suffer ten 
thousand. When there is too great generosity of this kind, wicked men, 
assassins, and disturbers of the peace of all kinds commit their evil deeds 
with impunity, for the good and liberal king cannot bring himself to refuse 
a petition of grace. The public good is sacrificed for the benefit of 
individuals, and the whole burden of the commonwealth falls on the poor.

One can verify what I say by many examples from both Greek and Latin 
history. But one need go no further afield than this country. Its condition 
was never more miserable than under a Charles the Simple. It was 
correspondingly great and prosperous in war and in peace under Francis I, 
who became most haughty and unapproachable as he grew older, so that none 
dared ask anything from him. In consequence lands, offices, and benefices 
all went to men of honour only. ...

A prince then must not be judged a tyrant because he is harsh and severe, 
provided always he keeps the laws of God and of nature. This point 
elucidated, let us consider whether it is right to make attempts upon the 
life of the tyrant.

The misuse of the term tyrant has misled many, and led to all sorts of 
unfortunate consequences. We have already said that the tyrant is one who on 
his own responsibility makes of himself a sovereign prince without election, 
hereditary claim, just conquest, or special divine commission. The opinions, 
and the laws of the ancient world condemned such to death. What is more, the 
ancients bestowed praise and honour in the form of titles of nobility, of 
chivalry, and statues and other marks of honour on the slayers of tyrants. 
They regarded them as the liberators of their fatherland, or as the 
inhabitants of Candia said, their motherland. They made no distinction 
between the virtuous prince and the evil and corrupt one. They did not 
think it proper that any man living should seize sovereign power, and make 
himself master over those who had been his equals and companions under any 
pretence of virtue and justice that he could allege. What is more, 
according to the civil law, anyone who assumed the authority reserved to the 
sovereign merited death. Wherefore if the subject tries to seize the 
government from the hands of his king by any means whatsoever -- and the 
same principle applies in popular states and in aristocracies -- he is 
worthy of death. It would seem then that our question is answered.

The Greeks and the Romans were at variance however as to what form the 
proceedings should take, whether by the operation of the law, or the act of 
an individual. The Lex Valeria, published at the instance of Publius 
Valerius Publicola, permitted homicide if one could make out a reasonable 
case for supposing that the dead man had indeed aspired to sovereign power. 
It was based on the argument that it was better to have resort to violence 
than to risk the destruction of both law and government in an anxiety to 
maintain the rule of law. If one insisted on a legal process, it was 
unlikely that such could be effected before the would-be tyrant had actually 
seized power, and once he had done so, it would be impossible to accomplish 
anything against one in control of all the organized forces in the 
commonwealth. On the other hand Solon legislated in the opposite sense, by 
expressly forbidding the resort to violence, and the assassination of the 
aspirant to power, until he had been brought to justice and condemned by due 
process of law. This seems more equitable than the Lex Valeria, for many 
good citizens and men of note have been murdered by their private enemies 
under the pretence that they were aiming at tyranny. After all, one can in 
such a case always regularize the situation by a retrospective trial after 
the fact. But it seems to me that both these principles can be accepted if 
one applies the law of Solon in the case where the prospective tyrant has 
not as yet got any armed forces under his control, and the Lex Valeria when 
the tyrant has come into the open and seized the citadel and its garrison. 
...

But the real problem we have to consider is whether the legitimate ruler 
who has succeeded to power by election, hereditary right, just conquest, or 
divine commission, and then abandons himself to cruel exactions and every 
sort of wicked oppression can be killed, for this is the sort of man one 
generally means when one uses the word 'tyrant'. Many of the jurists and 
theologians who have considered the question have concluded that it is 
justifiable to kill the tyrant and without distinction. Indeed some have 
used the mutually exclusive terms 'tyrant-king'. This doctrine has been the 
ruin of many great and nourishing monarchies.

Before this question can be resolved, one must make a distinction between 
the prince who is an absolute sovereign, and the one who is not, and between 
the position in relation to him of the subject and the foreigner. For just 
as it is right and proper for anyone to take forcible action to defend the 
honour and life of those who are oppressed unjustly when the law offers no 
remedy, so it is highly honourable, and befitting a prince, to take up arms 
in defence of a whole people unjustly oppressed by a cruel tyrant. Such a 
one was Hercules when he went about the world destroying monsters of tyranny 
everywhere. For these exploits he was deified. Such also were Dion, 
Timoleon, and other generous princes who earned the title of scourge of 
tyrants ... In such a case there is no doubt that a virtuous prince can 
proceed against a tyrant either by force of arms, diplomatic intervention, 
or process of law. If he takes the tyrant captive, it is more to his honour 
to punish him as a murderer, a parricide, or a robber than to allow him the 
benefit of the law of nations.

But when it comes to the question of the conduct befitting a subject, one 
must distinguish between the sovereign prince and one who is not so. If he 
is not sovereign, sovereignty must lie with the people or with the magnates. 
In such cases one is justified in taking legal proceedings against him, if 
this is practicable, or in resorting to force and violence if there is no 
other way of bringing him to reason. Action of the first sort was taken by 
the Roman Senate against Nero, and of the second against Maximian, for the 
Roman Emperors were only the first magistrates of the Republic, sovereignty 
remaining in the people and the Senate ... A parallel case is the Empire of 
Germany. It is an aristocratic principality, in which the Emperor is only 
the first magistrate. The power and majesty of the Empire is vested in the 
Diet, and the Diet deposed the Emperor Adolf in 1296, and again in 1400 the 
Emperor Wenceslas, in each case by due process of law, for it had 
jurisdiction over them. ...

But if the prince is an absolute sovereign, as are the true kings of 
France, Spain, England, Scotland, Ethiopia, Turkey, Persia, and Muscovy, 
whose authority is unquestionably their own, and not shared with any of 
their subjects, then it is in no circumstances permissible either by any of 
their subjects in particular, or all in general, to attempt anything against 
the life and honour of their king, either by process of law or force of 
arms, even though he has committed all the evil, impious, and cruel deeds 
imaginable. No process of law is possible, for the subject has no 
jurisdiction over his prince, for all power and authority to command derives 
from him, he can revoke the commissions of all magistrates whatsoever, and 
his mere presence suspends the powers of all magistrates, corporations, 
colleges, estates, and communities. And if it is not allowable for the 
subject to pass judgement on his prince, the vassal on his lord, the servant 
on his master, that is to say proceed judicially against them, how much less 
is it allowable to proceed by force of arms. It is not a question of whether 
the subject has the means to do so, but whether it is lawful or within the 
competence of the subject to do so. 

Not only is the subject guilty of high treason who kills his prince, but so 
also is he who has merely attempted it, counselled it, wished it or even 
considered it... We read that the most holy doctors that the Jews ever 
knew, those who were known as the Essenes or experts in the law of God, held 
that sovereign princes, of whatever character, should be regarded by their 
subjects as sacred and inviolable, and given of God. One cannot doubt that 
David, king and prophet, was informed by the spirit of God if ever man was, 
having always before his eyes the law of God. It was he who said, 'slander 
not the prince, nor speak evil of the magistrate'. Nothing is more insisted 
on in Holy Writ than the wickedness of compassing the death of the prince, 
or any responsible magistrate, or even making any attempt against their life 
or honour, even though, adds the Scripture, they be evil men.

If then the man who merely slanders the magistrates commits high treason by 
both divine and positive law, what punishment is sufficient for the man who 
attempts their lives? The law of God is much more precise on this point 
than are positive laws. Under the Lex Julia it is high treason to counsel 
the death of the magistrate or public official. But the law of God forbids 
any sort of detraction of the magistrate.

It would be waste of time to meet point by point the trivial arguments of 
those who maintain the opposite view. One does not argue with the man who 
doubts if there is a God, one merely subjects him to the merited penalties 
of the law. They should be treated in the same way who have called in 
question a principle so obvious, and have maintained in print that the 
subject can justly take up arms against a tyrannical prince, and compass his 
death by any means in their power. Albeit, some of the most undoubted 
scholars among theologians[9] have denied that it is ever justifiable to 
kill or even resist a sovereign prince, unless by a special and indubitable 
commission from God. We have an example of such a one in Jehu, who was 
chosen of God, and anointed king by the Prophet with the express command to 
bring about the destruction of the race of Ahab. He was a subject, and never 
attempted anything against his prince, despite the latter's many cruelties, 
exactions and massacres of prophets, until he had received an express 
command from God through the mouth of the Prophet. ...

But one must not use these occasions of special divine commission to 
justify in general the conspiracies and insurrections of rebellious subjects 
against their sovereign lords... I cannot find a better analogy than the 
relationship between a father and his son. The law of God declares that the 
son who defies his father or mother should be put to death. If the father is 
a murderer, a thief, the betrayer of his country, incestuous, a parricide, a 
blasphemer or an atheist, though all the punishments imaginable would not be 
sufficient penalty for him, it is not for his son to play the executioner. 
But the person of one's native ruler is even more sacred, and should be 
regarded as more inviolable even than that of one's father, for he is 
ordained and set over his subjects by God.

I conclude then that the subject is never justified in any circumstances in 
attempting anything against his sovereign prince, however evil and 
tyrannical he may be. It is however permissible to fail to obey him in any 
commands contrary to the law of God and of nature, but one must then seek 
refuge in flight, go into hiding or suffer death rather than attempt 
anything against his life or his honour. What a great number of tyrants 
would be discovered if one might kill them. The prince who imposed heavy 
taxes would be one in the eyes of the vulgar. The man who ruled contrary to 
the wishes of the people would be one in Aristotle's eyes. The man who kept 
a body-guard for his protection and the man who executed those who conspired 
against his life would also be tyrants. What security could virtuous princes 
enjoy? I do not wish to deny to neighbouring princes the right to pursue 
tyrants by force of arms. I only wish to deny it to the subject. ...

Concerning the Aristocratic State [CHAPTER VI]

ARISTOCRACY is that form of commonwealth in which the minority of the 
citizens have sovereign authority over the rest considered collectively, 
and over every citizen considered individually. It is therefore the opposite 
of the popular state, for there the majority of the citizens command the 
remainder considered collectively. But they resemble one another in this, 
that in either commonwealth the governing body has authority over the whole 
body of citizens only in their individual capacity, and not considered as a 
corporate whole. The monarchical commonwealth excels the other two in this 
respect, since the authority of the king extends over all, both in their 
aspect of a corporate whole, and in their aspect of a collection of 
individuals.

Just as monarchy can be royal, despotic or tyrannical, so aristocracy can 
be legitimate, despotic or factious. In ancient times the latter was called 
oligarchy, or the rule of a small handful of magnates. Such were the thirty 
rulers of Athens denounced by Thrasybulus, who were known as the Thirty 
Tyrants. Such also was the Decemvirate appointed to reform the laws and 
customs of the Romans. By force and violence, and aided by a faction of the 
citizens, they seized the government. Such practices explain why the 
ancients always used the term oligarchy in a bad sense, and aristocracy in a 
good, since they confined the latter to the rule of good and honest men.

But we have already shown that commonwealths cannot be classified according 
to the vices and virtues of their rulers when considering the form of the 
state. Such classification only applies to the form of the government. 
Moreover it is difficult, if not impossible, to erect a government which 
consists solely of honest men. Casting lots is no way of securing their 
selection, and election by their fellows is hardly more likely to do so. 
These are the two methods commonly used, though a third method got by 
combining the other two is sometimes employed. One must suppose all the 
electors to be honest men themselves if one is to be sure that honest men 
will be elected. Rogues choose others like themselves and in such a case 
honest men have not the effrontery to put themselves forward... In any case 
what guarantee can there ever be that the electors will not choose some 
relative, rather, son, brother, or even some friend, rather than a stranger 
however deserving he may be? This is why there are not now, and perhaps 
never were, any such states as pure aristocracies.

Therefore whether the government is in the hands of men of birth, of merit, 
of wealth, a military caste, the poor, the workers, or a set of scoundrels, 
provided it is a minority that rules, that state I call an aristocracy. 
When I say the minority of the citizens, I mean the greater number of that 
minority when assembled together as a corporate body. If there are ten 
thousand citizens of whom one hundred gentlemen only share sovereign power, 
if sixty of those are in agreement, they have an absolute right of command 
over the remaining nine thousand nine hundred citizens in general, who have 
no part in government, as well as those other forty who have. In other words 
the sixty have sovereign authority over all the ten thousand citizens 
considered as individuals, just as much as the hundred considered as a 
corporate body would have had, had they been in agreement. Neither the size 
of the state nor the proportion of the minority ruling class to the rest is 
significant. If there are a hundred thousand citizens and ten thousand of 
them participate in sovereignty the state is no less an aristocracy than if 
there are ten thousand citizens of whom one thousand govern the rest. In 
each case a tenth part governs. The same is true if it is only a hundredth 
or a thousandth part. But the smaller the governing minority, the stronger 
and more secure the state.

The state of Germany needs rather more careful examination in this 
connection. Even many well-informed persons think that it is a monarchy. I 
have said something about this already, but it is here convenient to show 
with more preciseness that it is an aristocracy. From the time of 
Charlemagne to that of Henry the Fowler it was a pure monarchy by right of 
succession in the line of Charlemagne. After Henry the Fowler, the monarchy 
long continued as an elective one, till the seven Electors gradually 
established their own sovereignty, leaving nothing to the Emperor but the 
symbols of power. All real power was in the seven Electors, the three 
hundred or so Princes of the Empire, and the representatives of the Imperial 
Free Cities. We have defined the aristocratic state as one in which the 
minority of citizens command the rest considered collectively, and each and 
all severally. Can it be shown then that the Imperial Diet, made up of three 
or four hundred men, has sovereign power to the exclusion of the claims of 
the Emperor on the one hand, and the Princes and Cities individually on the 
other, to make law for all the subjects of the Empire, to declare war and 
conclude peace, impose taxes and imposts, appoint judges ordinary and 
extraordinary with jurisdiction over the possessions, the honours, the life 
of the Emperor, the Princes and the Imperial Cities -- for such are the 
authentic marks of sovereignty -- ? If this is the case, and it is certain 
that it is, then it cannot be denied that the state of Germany is a true 
aristocracy.

That what I say is true is evident from the fact that sovereign commands 
are issued in the form of rescripts and decrees of the Diet. Decrees are 
published by the authority of a body consisting of the seven Electors, who 
have a third voice, by the other Princes of the Empire who hardly number 
three hundred in all, who have another third voice, and by the deputies of 
the Imperial Cities to the number of about seventy, who have the remaining 
third voice. Together they have full authority to enact or retract, confirm 
or reject, whatsoever is proposed. There is nothing peculiar about this 
constitution to distinguish it from any other aristocracy, save that the 
Electors have one vote, the Princes a second, and the Cities a third, so 
that if the seven Electors and the deputies, or the deputies and the 
Princes, or the Electors and the Princes are in agreement, the measure 
becomes law. ...

There are others who think that the Princes and the Imperial Cities 
severally enjoy sovereign power, and that the Imperial Diet has no more 
power than the assemblies of the Swiss Confederation. There is, 
nevertheless, a great difference between them. Each Canton is sovereign, 
without subjection to the laws and commands of the others; they have no 
obligation to one another other than those specified under the terms of 
their defensive and offensive alliances. But the Empire of Germany is united 
in its Diet. The Diet can place Cities and Princes under the Imperial ban, 
and depose Emperors from their estate by the sovereign authority inhering in 
it, as on the occasion of the rejection of Adolf, and of Wenceslas son of 
Charles IV, and many others. Moreover the Diet regularly publishes decrees 
and ordinances binding on all the subjects of the Empire, both in general 
and in particular.

What is more, the ten Circles, or circuits of the Empire, hold their 
separate diets to formulate their particular petitions, grievances, and 
complaints, to the Imperial Diet, in order that it may issue its decisions 
in the matter. Again, the Electoral Princes, after the coronation of the 
Emperor, take an oath of allegiance to the Empire, not to the Emperor, 
though they actually swear the oath between his hands... Finally, the 
Emperor as head unites the Empire even more closely in a single commonwealth 
than if it was only united in the Diet. I have said 'as head of the Empire', 
or captain in chief, but I do not mean by that as sovereign lord, such as 
many think he is. For whereas kings and monarchs make princes, the Emperor 
on the contrary is elected and made such by the Princes. ...

In the face of these facts how can anyone persist in the opinion that the 
Emperor is a sovereign, and the Empire a monarchy united in a single 
person?... It must also be conceded that there is no Prince or Imperial 
City which has sovereign authority. Each is a member of the Empire, 
governing the state under his authority subject to the laws and ordinances 
of the Empire ... It is only when the Empire is divided into hostile 
factions, as has so often happened, and the Princes banded together the one 
against the other, that the communal governments of the towns, and the 
subordinate jurisdictions of the Princes, are converted into a number of 
separate aristocracies and monarchies. Each member of the Empire then 
constitutes itself a particular sovereign state. ...

A well-ordered aristocracy is extraordinarily satisfactory as a form of 
government. A corrupted one is correspondingly pernicious, for instead of a 
single tyrant there are a multitude. This is most likely to happen, and 
often does when the nobles band together against the common people. In 
ancient times, when the nobles were admitted to power in aristocratic 
states, they took an oath that they would be from that time forth the sworn 
enemies of the people. This was the ruin of aristocracies. Let us now turn 
to popular states.

Concerning Popular States [CHAPTER VII]

A POPULAR state is that form of commonwealth in which the majority of the 
people have collectively sovereign authority over the rest considered 
collectively, and over each several member considered individually. It is 
the necessary mark of the popular state that the greater part of the people 
have authority to command not only each particular citizen as such, but the 
minority of the people as a body. If there are thirty-five clans, or 
groupings of the people, as in Rome, eighteen of them have sovereign power 
over the other seventeen and can bind them by the laws they make. This was 
the case when Marcus Octavius was deprived of the tribunate at the instance 
of his colleague, Tiberius Gracchus. ...

When I say that the majority of the people are invested with sovereign power 
in a popular state, this holds good when votes are counted by head as in 
Venice, Ragusa, Lucca, Genoa, and practically all aristocratic republics. 
But if one counts votes by clans, or districts, or communities, it suffices 
that the majority of clans, districts, or communities as the case may be, 
are agreed, even if the majority so determined includes only a minority of 
the actual number of citizens. This was practically always the arrangement 
in the popular republics of the ancient world. ...

These arrangements provide the answer to those who say that there cannot be, 
never was, nor ever could be a truly popular state where the whole assembled 
people make law, appoint to office, and exercise all the prerogatives of 
sovereignty, seeing that the greater number are generally absent, and it is 
only a small group that actually makes the law. But it suffices if the 
greater number of clans are agreed, even if there are only fifty people in 
one and a thousand in another, provided that the right of recording his 
vote is secured to each individual, should he wish to be present. But in 
order to prevent a faction securing the ascendancy by intriguing with the 
most influential members of the various clans, it was customary when some 
law of importance was under discussion to add some clause, such as that the 
law about to be published could not be rescinded save by the assembly of the 
whole people, six thousand citizens at least being present. One finds many 
examples in Demosthenes, and in the Lives of the Ten Orators, and Plutarch 
adds that a sentence of ostracism could not take effect if less than six 
thousand citizens consented. A similar safeguard is provided by the 
ordinances of Venice, whereby in all matters of consequence, or touching the 
administration of justice, it is provided that there shall be no amendment 
of the ordinances of the city by the Great Council unless there are at 
least a thousand Venetian citizens present, and of these four-fifths, or 
five-sixths, as the case may be, are in agreement. Only when such conditions 
are satisfied can a law be imposed on the rest of the community. This law is 
the same in principle as the law governing the procedure of guilds and 
corporate associations, by which two-thirds of the members are required to 
be present in session, and the majority of this two-thirds in agreement, to 
make a regulation binding on the rest. ...

We have said above that the state can be a pure monarchy and its government 
popular, as happens when the prince distributes lands, offices, and rewards 
indifferently to rich and poor, noble and commoner without exception of 
persons. Or a state can be a monarchy governed aristocratically if the princ
e confines his gifts of lands and offices to a few nobles, or a handful of 
rich men, or his personal favourites. On the other hand if the majority of 
the citizens share sovereign power, but only bestow the responsible offices, 
honours, and prerogatives on the nobles, as was done in Rome till the 
publication of the Lex Canuleia, the state will be a popular one, but the 
government aristocratic. If government is in the hands of the nobles, or the 
wealthy, but they open offices and privileges to poor and simple citizens, 
as well as to the rich, without favour shown, the state is an aristocracy 
governed democratically. If the people have sovereign power and give lands 
and political privileges to all without respect of persons, or if all 
offices and benefices are filled by lot, the state is not only a popular 
state, but governed as such... In the same way, if the nobles or the wealthy 
alone govern the state, and reserve lands and honourable charges for their 
own class, one can say not only that the state is an aristocracy, but also 
that it is governed aristocratically. Such is the case of Venice.

It may be objected that I am alone in making such distinctions, and that 
none of the ancients, still less contemporary writers on politics, have 
developed such views. This I don't deny. But it seems to me necessary to 
make such distinctions if one would understand the true character of every 
type of commonwealth, and avoid falling into a maze of errors, such as did 
Aristotle. He confused the popular and the aristocratic state, and vice 
versa, against common opinion and even common sense.

But one can never build a secure superstructure on ill-founded principles. 
Such confusions lead to the ill-formed opinion of those who think one can 
have a commonwealth compounded of all three basic types which we have 
rejected as impossible. We consider it indisputable that the form of the 
commonwealth is always simple, even though the government may be of a 
contrary type, as a monarchy is clearly contrary to a popular state in 
principle, yet nevertheless sovereign majesty may reside in a prince who 
governs his realm as if it were a popular state. But this is not a 
commixture of monarchy and democracy, which are mutually incompatible. It is 
a monarchy with a popular government, and this is the most secure kind of 
monarchy there is. The same may be said of the state which is an aristocracy 
whose government is popular. It is much more secure than if its government 
were aristocratic. ...

Popular government can admit of degrees of more and less, as can be seen in 
the case of the Swiss Republics. Uri, Schwyz, Unterwalden, Zug, Glarus, and 
Appenzel are governed by sovereign communes, and there is not a fortified 
town in any of the five, save only Zug. The other nine Cantons and Geneva 
are governed by a council of magnates, as I learn from M. de Bassefontaine, 
Bishop of Limoges, who has long discharged the duties of ambassador there in 
the most unexceptionable and honourable manner. Even the Bernese, whose 
senate is composed of craftsmen, choose the Advocate from the most noble and 
ancient families. It is in consequence more stable than the others. The 
three leagues of the Grisons, which are the most popular in organization, 
are much the most disturbed, as foreign ambassadors have always found.

For the true nature of a people is to seek unbridled liberty without 
restraint. They would make all equal in goods, honours, punishments, and 
rewards, without any respect whatsoever for noble birth, education, or 
virtue. As Plutarch said in his Symposia, they want everything decided by 
lot or by divination, without respect of persons. If the nobles or the 
wealthy show any signs of wishing to make their influence felt, they hasten 
to massacre or banish them, and divide their confiscated property among the 
poor. This happened at the foundation of the free Swiss republics, after the 
battle of Sempach.[10] The noblesse were all but exterminated, and the 
remnant compelled to renounce their title to nobility, yet nevertheless they 
were ejected from their lands and offices, save in Zurich and Berne. ...

On the other hand nobles and wealthy men generally look at things in quite 
a different way. They think that those who are distinguished by birth, 
wealth, education, or experience should be more esteemed, deferred to, and 
honoured than the rest, and that all honourable charges should be reserved 
to such men. They therefore take pains to exclude the poor from any share in 
the management of affairs of state. It is impossible to compound two such 
diametrically opposed attitudes, in spite of Solon's claim to have made 
laws which were equal alike for rich and poor, noble and simple. For the 
rich understand by equality, proportional equality, the poor, absolute 
equality. We shall explain in the proper place what is meant by these terms, 
and the advantages and disadvantages of each type of commonwealth. At the 
moment it suffices to have defined and described them.



1. In his work on Venice, Della Republica e Magistrati di Venetia, 1563.

2. In his Discorsi supra la prima deca di Tito Livio, first published 1532, 
and in a collected edition, 1550.

3. Historian of Venice. His Rerum Venetarum ah urbe condita ad Marcum 
Barbaricum Libri XXXIII was published in 1487.

4. There is a marginal reference in the Latin version made by Bodin in 1586 
to Du Haillan. He wrote a book De I'estat et succes des affaires lie France, 
published in 1570, which Bodin very largely drew on for his account of the 
French monarchy.

5. This belief that lordship began with Nimrod, and was rooted in iniquity, 
was a tradition enshrined in the canon law. Gratian ascribes the founding 
of societies of men regulated by laws to Cain, and their refoundation after 
the flood, to Nimrod.

6. Its author was Sigismund, Baron d'Herberstein. His Rerum Muscoviticarum 
Commentarii was published in 1549 and several times subsequently.

7. Historiarum sui temporis Libri XLV, Lib. xviii. 1530.

8. Succeeded in 1537. He founded a stable dynasty and so put an end to the 
chronic instability of Florentine politics.

9. There is a marginal reference to Luther and Calvin.

10. 1377. It was fought against their Hapsburg overlords, and the victory 
laid the foundations of the effective independence of the Forest Cantons.

____________

BOOK III[1]

The Council [CHAPTER I]

A COUNCIL is the legal assembly of the councillors of state, whose
function it is to advise the sovereign in the commonwealth ... Not that
a council is necessary to the continued existence of the commonwealth. A
prince may be so wise and experienced that he is his own best
councillor, and he may dispense with advice from anyone else, whether
friend or foreigner. Antigonus, King of Asia, Louis XI of France, and
the Emperor Charles V were of this sort. They followed the example of
Julius Caesar, who confided in no one about his plans, his expeditions,
or even the day he had fixed on for battle. Yet all these men
accomplished great things, though assailed by many and powerful enemies.
They were the more dreaded in that their designs being unknown, they
were put into execution before the enemy had wind of them. Their
subjects were kept in good order, ready to execute the commands of their
prince the moment he lifted a finger. The state therefore flourished
like a healthy body in which all the members obey the head without
having any part in its deliberations.

But there are some who have doubted, without much reason to my mind,
whether it is better to have a foolish prince who is well-advised or a
wise man who eschews good counsel, though those who claimed to be wisest
rejected the alternatives as unreal. They argued that in the first
place, if the prince is as wise as supposed, he has no great need of
counsel, and without it he enjoys the advantage of keeping secret his
designs, which being made public would be about as effective as an
exploded mine. In fact wise princes order things so well that they
habitually talk most about what they are least concerned to accomplish.
On the other hand how is it possible for a stupid prince to secure good
counsel, when the choice of a council rests with him in the first place,
and the ability to recognize worth and act upon good advice is itself a
mark of knowledge of men and of affairs?

But since the gift of wisdom is vouchsafed only to the very few, and we
are bound in obedience to all such princes as it pleases God to bestow
upon us, the best thing we can hope for is that he may have wise
counsel. It is much less dangerous to have a bad prince who is
well-advised than a good one who is ill-advised, as the Emperor
Alexander observed. The prince should be guided by the advice of his
council in small matters as well as great. Nothing gives more authority
to the laws, or to the commands of the prince, the people, or the ruling
class as the case may be, than the knowledge that they proceed from good
counsel ... Where subjects see edicts and mandates issued contrary to
the advice of the council, they tend to treat them with contempt. From
contempt of the law springs contempt of the magistrates. Open rebellion
against the prince follows, and the whole commonwealth is brought to
ruin. Hieronymus, King of Sicily, lost his throne, and was put to a
cruel death together with all his family for having despised his council
and refused to consult them... For this reason Louis XI caused his son
Charles to be brought up practically without education, as Philippe de
Comines's History shows, to force him to be guided by his council. Louis
well knew that those who have a good conceit of themselves rely entirely
on their own judgement, a failing which had brought Louis himself to the
brink of destruction, as he afterwards confessed. ...

The council must necessarily be small in numbers in view of the rare
qualities requisite in a councillor. It is true however that in popular
and aristocratic commonwealths it has been necessary, in order to avoid
disturbances, to appease the appetites of ambitious persons. In Athens,
for example, by the ordinance of Solon, four hundred councillors were
chosen by lot every fourth year. Later the number was increased ... But
it is not really desirable that the size of the council should be
determined according to the number of citizens, nor to satisfy the
vanity of ignorant persons, still less to draw profit from such
appointments. It should be chosen solely with regard to the virtue and
wisdom of those who merit such a responsibility. If it is not possible
otherwise to appease the ambition of those who enjoy political power in
aristocracies and democracies, and political necessity demands the
opening of the council to the multitude, then let eligibility be
confined to those who have held responsible offices. ...

But one should not take such action unless there is no other way of
avoiding popular disturbances. Apart from the obvious danger of the
publicity which attends the communication of important matters to so
many people, opportunity is given to the factions to create disorder ...
It is moreover very difficult to assemble a very large council in the
required numbers and to secure any agreement among them, and meanwhile
the state is in great danger, and the opportunity for successful action
is lost. ...

A council is instituted to advise those who exercise sovereign authority
in the commonwealth. I say 'advise' because the council in any
well-ordered commonwealth should have no power of action, nor of issuing
commands, nor of putting into execution the policies it advises. All
such matters should be referred to those who exercise sovereign
authority. It is of course true that there are commonwealths in which
such powers are in fact exercised by the council. But I hold that in a
well-ordered commonwealth such powers ought not to be permitted. They
cannot be admitted without a considerable diminution of sovereignty,
more dangerous to a monarchy even than to an aristocracy or popular
state. The majesty of a prince is best displayed when he can, and his
prudence when he knows how to, weigh and appraise the advice of his
council, and decide according to the opinion of the wiser part, rather
than the opinion of the greater part. It may be objected that it is not
fitting that high courts and officers of state should have power to
command, and issue commissions in their own name, while the council,
which judges the differences between them, should be denied such powers.
But the answer is that high courts and officers of state have power to
command in virtue of their institution, and their powers are delimited
and defined in the edicts establishing their offices. There was never a
council in any well-ordered commonwealth which had power to command by
the terms of its institution. Therefore neither in Spain, England, or
France do you find that the council is legally instituted as a college,
with its powers defined by law in some statute, as is necessarily the
case for the institution of all magistracies, as we shall show. If it is
objected that the council has the power to revise the judgements of high
courts and supreme magistrates, and that one cannot argue therefore that
it has no power of action, I would point out that the privy council in
doing this is not acting independently, but under a royal commission, as
judges extraordinary in a matter of justice. ...

It may be questioned whether the council in a popular or aristocratic
state has not more power than under a monarchy, having regard to the
difference there is between one ruler and many, a prince and the people,
a king and a multitude of men. We read of the Romans, whose republic was
admittedly the most nourishing and well-ordered that has ever existed,
that the Senate had the power to manage the finances, which is one of
the undoubted attributes of sovereignty. It could also appoint
lieutenants and governors of provinces, award triumphs, and consider
matters of religion ... Notwithstanding all this, I still say that the
council in a democracy or an aristocracy should have no function but to
deliberate and advise. Power to act ought to be reserved to those who
have sovereign authority. Whatever can be said about the powers of the
Roman Senate, they were only a matter of dignity, authority, and
counsel, and not of authority. The Roman people could, whenever it saw
fit, confirm or reject the decrees of the Senate. The Senate had no
power of command, or even of executing its own orders... If then in a
popular state the council has no ordinary power of commanding, save on
sufferance, still less has it such powers in an aristocracy or a
monarchy. In a monarchy especially, the king is much more jealous of
invasions of his authority than are a people.

The reason why the council in a commonwealth ought not to have power to
give effect to its own advice is that, if it had, sovereignty would he
in the council, and the councillors would rule, having power to manage
the affairs of state and order all things according to their own good
pleasure. This could not be without the diminution or even destruction
of the sovereign majesty, though sovereignty is of so high and sacred a
character that no subject of whatever degree can have any part in it,
great or small. For this reason the Great Council at Venice, which in
that state is the sovereign power, forbad the Ten, who were extending
their activities beyond the limits prescribed, upon pain of treason to
take any action, or even to dictate letters which they call definitive,
without having recourse to the Signory, pending the assembly of the
Great Council. ...

Officers of State and Holders of Commissions [CHAPTERS II AND III] 

AN officer is the public person who has an ordinary charge defined by
law. The holder of a commission is the public person who has an
extraordinary charge defined in the terms of the commission. In each
case there are two grades of persons, those who have power to issue
orders, or magistrates, and those subordinate officials who can only
take cognizance of the facts, or execute orders. There are other sorts
of public persons who are neither officers nor holders of commissions,
such as popes, bishops, and ministers of religion generally. They are
holders of benefices rather than offices. This class of public persons
must on no account be confused with the former, for their business is
with divine matters, whereas officers and holders of commissions are
only concerned with human affairs. Moreover their functions are not
determined by edicts, or any laws of the state, as are those of
officers.

Let us consider the accuracy of these definitions before entering into a
more particular discussion of the various categories of persons. Neither
the jurists, nor anyone else who has written about politics, has
adequately defined, or even described, what an office is, and what the
holder of a commission or a magistrate is. But it is very necessary to
have a clear understanding of their functions, seeing that they form one
of the principal parts of the commonwealth, for it cannot subsist
without them. ...

The description of an officer as a public person is not disputed, since
the difference between an officer and a private individual is simply
that one has a public charge and the other has not. I have said that he
has an ordinary charge to distinguish him from the holder of a
commission. The latter has an extraordinary public charge occasioned by
some particular circumstance. Such were in ancient times dictators, and
members of commissions set up by the people, on the request of the
magistrates, to inform about crimes. I have said that ordinary charges
are defined by edict, for there is no way of creating an office to which
a specific function is attached save by edict or explicit enactment.
This principle was always observed in the ancient commonwealths of the
Greeks and the Romans, and is even more strictly followed today. To this
end princes are in the habit of requiring edicts establishing the
humblest offices to be published both in high courts and inferior
courts... An office, once created, is set up in perpetuity, even though
the holder of it is only appointed for one year at a time. For whatever
the term prescribed for the holder of it, an office remains, once it is
established by law, until another law to the contrary effect abolishes
it... I have said that it is an ordinary charge set up by law because
the mandates of the Roman people, setting up commissions with
extraordinary charges, were also given the name of laws, and the duties,
the term, and the scope were determined by them. The commissions under
which the Roman people from time to time set up a dictatorship are an
example. The Lex Gabinia gave Pompey supreme command within the shores,
and over the coast towns of the Mediterranean for the term of five years
for the purpose of putting an end to piracy. ...

It is of the very nature of commissions that there are no conditions
relating to time, place, and function included in their terms of
appointment, which cannot be revoked at will. In point of fact a time
limit is seldom set in monarchical states. But in popular states and
aristocracies there generally is for fear of the commissioners acquiring
sufficient power to destroy liberty. This happened with the Decemvirate
in Rome ... The Florentines suffered in the same way. They set up a
commission of ten, and gave them absolute power for four or five years
to order the Republic, all other magistracies being suspended. But no
term within which the reordering of the Republic was to be effected was
fixed. This gave an opportunity to a clique to monopolize the government
indefinitely though they went through the form of resigning.[2] The
suspension of all the ordinary magistracies gives too much power to a
commission, and cannot be done without grave danger to the commonwealth,
save in a monarchy. ...

The distinction between an office and a commission can briefly be
expressed in this way, that an office is like a lease which the
proprietor cannot terminate till its term is expired; a commission is
held at will, a precarious loan that the lender can call in any time he
chooses ... A commission is terminated by the death of the grantor, or
his express revocation, or when the holder succeeds to any office which
makes him the equal of the grantor ... This is not the case with
officers. Their offices are not terminated by the death of the prince,
though they hold them on sufferance, and are, as it were, suspended till
they receive letters of reappointment, or are confirmed in their offices
by the new prince. For this reason, on the death of Louis XI, the
Parlement of Paris, in obedience to a judgement of the court given in
October 1381, ruled that all officials should remain at their posts till
the will of the new king should be known. ...

There is another difference between an officer and a commissioner
besides the fact that one has an ordinary and the other an extraordinary
charge, and that is that the authority of an officer is the more
extensive and takes precedence. For this reason edicts and ordinances
leave much to the good faith and discretion of the magistrates, so that
they can apply and interpret the laws equitably, and take into
consideration the circumstances of the case. But commissioners on the
other hand are strictly bound by the precise terms of their commission,
even in affairs of state. Ambassadors and envoys, appointed to negotiate
between princes, cannot go a step beyond their instructions unless some
clause is added (as is often the case with diplomatic charges) allowing
them, when they see how matters stand, to adjust or abate the terms as
prudence and discretion dictate. But this never extends to the principal
clauses and concessions of treaties, but only to minor matters of less
importance. ...

The magistrate is the officer in the commonwealth who has the power to
command obedience. We must first however explain that the institution of
commissioners is older than that of officers. It is certain that the
earliest commonwealths were governed by the sovereign authority of the
prince in person, without the assistance of laws. The word, the sign,
the will of the prince was law. Princes gave charges in peace and in war
to whomsoever they wished, and revoked these charges at their absolute
good pleasure. Public servants depended directly on the plenary
authority of the prince, and were not secured by either laws or customs.
Josephus in his second book against Appion, wishing to prove the
illustrious antiquity of the Hebrew race, and of its laws, points out
that the word law does not appear in Homer at all. This supports the
case for supposing that the earliest commonwealths only knew
commissions, since an officer is necessarily established by an express
law. This would seem to compromise the sovereign power of the prince.
For this reason the kings and princes who have been most jealous of
their authority have adopted the expedient of including in all letters
of appointment an ancient clause, reminiscent of the original despotic
monarchs, that the office is held 'during our good pleasure'. It is true
that in France, though it was once strictly observed, it has no meaning
in fact since the ordinance of Louis XI.[3] But in Spain, England,
Denmark, Sweden, Germany, and Poland, and all the Italian states, it is
still strictly observed. Secretaries never omit it, and its appearance
is another argument in favour of supposing that all public charges were
originally executed by commissioners.

There is as much confusion among writers on the subject between the
terms magistrate and officer as there is between officers and holders of
a commission. Every magistrate is an officer, but every officer is not a
magistrate, but only those who have power to command obedience ...
Public persons who have an ordinary charge defined by law, which does
not carry with it power to command obedience, are simple officers, the
kind of persons the last Emperors call officiales. ...

In every commonwealth there are three things to be observed about the
appointment of officers and magistrates; who appoints, who is eligible
for appointment, and the method of selection. In the first case, it is
always the sovereign who appoints. Who is eligible is also determined by
the sovereign, but as a general rule he keeps to the laws which he
himself has made, fixing qualifications. This is more especially the
case in aristocracies and popular states. In the one case magistrates
are chosen from the nobles, or the wealthy, or those who are most
experienced in the matters with which their office is concerned. In the
other case they are open to all conditions of citizens. As to the method
of selection, it can be either by election, by lot, or a combination of
the two. ...

Magistrates can also be divided into three grades. The first are what
might be called sovereign magistrates, because they owe obedience to
none but the sovereign himself. The second are the intermediate
magistrates who owe obedience to the sovereign magistrates, but
themselves have subordinates under them. The third are those inferior
magistrates who owe obedience to both ranks of superior magistrates, but
themselves can only command private citizens. Let us consider them in
order.

The Magistrate [CHAPTERS IV AND V]

AFTER the sovereign, the magistrate is the chief personage in the
commonwealth, for upon him the sovereign devolves his authority and his
power of commanding obedience. We must therefore consider what obedience
is due from the magistrate to the prince, since this is his first duty.
Unlike the sovereign who knows no superior, but sees all his subjects
obedient to his power, or the private citizen who has no official right
to use compulsion against anyone, the magistrate is many personages of
different quality, bearing, appearance, and mode of action in one. To
fulfil his role he must know how to obey his sovereign, defer to those
magistrates who are his superiors, honour his equals, command those
subject to him, defend the weak, hold fast against the strong, do
justice to all. ...

But before one can properly consider the obedience due from the
magistrate to his sovereign, one must consider the form that the
commands of the sovereign can take. For the prince issues orders of
various sorts. There are general and perpetual edicts, binding on all
sorts and conditions of his subjects whatsoever; or there are laws
relating to certain persons, or certain circumstances, by way of
provision; there are grants of exemption in favour of a single person,
or a small group of such; or there are grants of privilege which do not
involve any suspension of the law; there are grants of offices and
commissions; there are the orders that declare war, publish peace, raise
the army, or equip a fleet; there are levies of taxes, aids, subsidies,
new imposts, and loans; there are the despatches issued to ambassadors
instructing them to felicitate or condole with foreign princes, and
treat of marriages, alliances, and such like matters; there are letters
of execution for the expediting of justice, the restitution of minors,
the remission of sentences, or pardon of offences and such like matters
... All these various kinds of orders can be reduced to two types,
mandates and letters of justice. ...[4]

In letters of justice the prince leaves it to the discretion of the
magistrate to whom the letters are addressed to act on them or not as
his conscience and the demands of equity dictate. This is not the case
with mandates, which leave nothing to the discretion of the executor,
unless it be sometimes verification of the facts alone, but without any
choice as to the execution of his instructions. It can therefore be said
of letters of justice that though they proceed from the prince, they do
not impose any command or compulsion on the magistrate to whom they are
addressed. On the contrary, by the ordinance of Charles VII and Philip
IV, judges are expressly forbidden to apply them if they are inequitable
... The question therefore as to how far the magistrate is bound to obey
them does not arise.

Mandates on the other hand raise a difficulty, since they require the
magistrate to enquire into the facts without giving him any
discretionary power of action. What is he to do if, having informed
himself of the facts, as directed, he sees that to act in the way
commanded would involve a notable injustice? Sometimes princes accompany
unjust mandates by particular letters close, praying the magistrate to
execute them. In letters patent prayers are often accompanied by
commands, 'We pray and at the same time command you that...' In acting
thus, the prince derogates from his authority if the command is of
public benefit, and from the law of God and of nature if it is unjust. A
magistrate ought never to be entreated to do his duty, or dissuaded from
doing a thing which is unjust and dishonest, as Cato said. Moreover
command is incompatible with entreaty.

The difficulty may be settled in this way. If his instructions give him
cognizance neither of the facts nor of the rights of the case, but
simply require him to execute an order, he has no option but to obey,
except the letters be notoriously null and void, or contrary to the laws
of nature, such as was Pharaoh's and Agrippa's commands to slaughter the
innocents, or in our own day those of the Marquis Albert to rob and
despoil the poor.[5] If the subject of a particular lord or justice is
not under any obligation to obey the lord or the magistrate who exceeds
his jurisdiction and invades the sphere of another, even if the thing
commanded be just and honourable, still less is the magistrate bound to
obey orders from his prince which are unjust and dishonourable. In such
a case the prince oversteps the sacred bounds of the laws of God and of
nature. ...

If however the orders of the prince are not contrary to the divine and
natural law, he must execute them, even if they are contrary to the law
of nations, for the law of nations can be modified by the civil laws of
any particular state, provided natural justice and equity to which the
prince is bound is not infringed, but public or particular utility only
is in question. Though we have stated that the prince ought to keep the
oath which he has sworn, if he is constrained by oath, and even when not
so, he ought to keep the laws of the commonwealth over which he is
sovereign, one cannot conclude therefore that if the prince should fail
in his duty in this or that respect, the magistrate need not obey him.
It is not for the magistrate to take cognizance, or contravene in any
particular the will of the prince in regard to positive laws, since the
prince is free to disregard them. But if the magistrate is aware that
the prince is setting aside a just and useful provision for one that is
less so, he can delay execution of the edict or mandate till he has made
representations. He can do this not once, but two or three times. But
if, notwithstanding these remonstrances, the prince insists on
obedience, then the magistrate must give it effect from the time of the
original instruction if delay is dangerous. ...

It may be argued that a magistrate should refuse obedience to a mandate
that he thinks is against natural justice, even if, in fact, it is not
so. For the principles of what is called natural justice and natural
reason are not so clear that there can be no uncertainty about them. The
most famous jurists have disagreed about them, and the legal systems of
different peoples run counter to one another, the laws of one rewarding
acts which are punishable under another. One can find any number of
examples, and it would take an infinity of time to make a full list. But
I would answer that one should never do anything that one thought even
doubtfully just, and much less anything that one was persuaded was of
its very nature unjust, even though the prince commanded it. But if it
is a question simply of justice according to the law, the magistrate
ought to execute the sovereign's commands, even though he considers them
legally inequitable. Therefore in order to secure that those rules which
have been resolved upon as laws shall not be the subject of dispute,
magistrates in all commonwealths are required to take an oath to observe
the laws and ordinances. ...

There are those who question whether a magistrate ought not to resign
his office rather than act upon an edict, a commission, or a mandate
which he thinks against justice and natural reason, even if, when
challenged, the majority, contrary to the opinion of the rest, consider
it to be just. Rational and sound principles, it is argued, imply a
well-regulated mind, and that is only found in those few who have wisdom
and understanding. But I hold that in such cases it is not permissible
for the magistrate to resign his office, unless allowed to do so by the
sovereign. He is bound to obey the orders of his prince if, the justice
of those orders having been called in question, the majority of the
magistrates responsible for their execution are agreed on accepting
them. Otherwise, if a magistrate were allowed to resign his charge
rather than accept an edict approved by the others a dangerous,
precedent would be created for all subjects to question and disobey the
edicts of the prince, and it would be open to everyone in a place of
trust to expose the commonwealth to danger, and leave it like a ship
without a navigator in a tempest, on some pretext of justice which
probably is the idle fancy of an eccentric, or of one merely concerned
to think differently from the rest. One of the most laudable ordinances
of Louis XII was that which required that when the Judges were divided
by two or three opinions, the minority must range themselves on the side
of the larger party, or parties, in order that a decision might be
reached. There was some difficulty in getting the edict registered, for
it seemed strange to the court that the consciences of Judges should be
constrained in matters committed to their prudence and integrity.
Nevertheless having considered the frequent difficulties that arose from
the variety of opinions among the Judges, to the prejudice of justice
and prevention of any delivering of judgement, the court verified an
ordinance, which after some passage of time was recognized to be both
just and useful. ...

There is however a great difference between edicts and ordinances which
have become law, and those which are being submitted for registration.
All magistrates, on their appointment, swear to keep the laws, and if
they do otherwise, in addition to the legal penalties they incur, they
suffer dishonour as perjured. But magistrates are free to examine edicts
and mandates which are not already law, but submitted for registration,
and can remonstrate to the prince before proceeding to verify them, as I
have explained above. They can do this when the interest of a private
citizen only is at stake. Even more can they do so when it is a question
of profit or loss to the whole commonwealth. It is of much greater
service to the commonwealth, and much more befitting the dignity of a
magistrate, to resign his office than to help to establish an iniquitous
law.[6] ... The constancy and firmness of magistrates has often enough
saved the honour of the prince and preserved the dignity of the
commonwealth.

The mandates which are of greatest consequence to the public welfare are
those granting privileges, dispensations, exemptions, and immunities.
The magistrate ought therefore to be particularly vigilant in examining
them, especially in popular states, where inequalities caused by grants
of privileges bring about popular disturbances which often lead to the
downfall of the commonwealth ... There is no need to enter into a
discussion of the vexed question of privilege at this point. It is
sufficient in passing to warn the magistrate to pay close attention to
letters granting privileges, and examine carefully the claims of the
person to whom the prince is making the grant. It is well known that
often enough the prince has never set eyes on those who extract
privileges from him. There is no ruse or stratagem which has not been
tried in order to defeat the laws and abuse the goodwill of the prince
and his officers. ...

Once the magistrate has remonstrated with the prince about the truth of
the facts and the import of his orders, he is quit of his duty, and must
obey if he is nevertheless required to. Otherwise the majesty of a
sovereign prince would be a sham and at the mercy of the magistrates.
But what is to be feared is not so much that the sovereign majesty of
the prince will be diminished, as that first the lesser magistrates, and
then the people as a whole, will be encouraged to disobey the prince.
This leads inevitably to the downfall of the state. If anyone says to me
that the prince ought never to command anything which is iniquitous, I
agree, and would add, he ought never, if possible, to command anything
which might be considered reprehensible or open to criticism. If he
knows that the opinion of the magistracy is against him in any matter,
he should avoid putting constraint upon its members. For in such
circumstances an ignorant people is moved to contempt for the laws, and
to the habit of disobedience, seeing them established only by
compulsion.

But supposing the prince does indeed fail in his duty, and command
something which is contrary to the public good and the justice of the
laws, but not contrary to the law of God and of nature, what ought the
magistrate to do? If the humblest magistrate ought to be obeyed even
when he commands something inequitable, how much more should the
sovereign prince be obeyed, since all magistracies derive from him? The
laws, founded on the experience of wise men, repeat over and over again
that one should obey the magistrate whether he commands what is just or
unjust... Have we not all seen subjects arm themselves against their
sovereign prince, following the example of disobedient magistrates who
have refused to register or execute the laws? The cry is always raised,
this edict is damaging to the common good, and we ought not to, and
cannot register it. It is good that a protest should be made. But should
the will of the prince remain firm and immutable, is one justified in
hazarding the safety of the state? Should one allow oneself to be
compelled? Is it not better to resign one's office? On the other hand is
there anything more dangerous or more wicked than disobedience and
contempt of the subject for his sovereign? It is our opinion that it is
better to submit obediently to the majesty of the prince, than by
refusing to carry out his orders, give an example of rebellion to the
subject, bearing in mind always the qualifications we have already made.
These principles hold good especially when it is a question of the
honour of God which is, and ought to be, of more moment to the subject
than the goods, the life, the honour of all the princes of this world
... But it is also necessary to beware of opening the door to rebellion
on the pretext of conscience, or an ill-founded doctrine. So much for
the obedience due from the magistrate to the sovereign. Let us now
consider his powers over private citizens.

We have said that the magistrate is the officer who commands in the name
of the commonwealth. The right of command belongs to him who has
authority to constrain those who do not wish to obey his orders, or who
disobey his provisions, and who can suspend his own prohibitions. When
we say that the force of law lies in the fact that it commands and
prohibits, permits, and punishes, we are speaking of the magistrate
rather than the law, which is silent. The magistrate is the life of the
law because he accomplishes these things. The commands and prohibitions
of the law would be useless were it not for the penalties for
contravention, and the magistrate who gives them effect. 

Properly speaking the law is only concerned with prohibitions and the
punishment of those who disobey, for a command implies a prohibition of
any breach of that command. Law is not permission, for permission
suspends prohibitions, and therefore carries with it no penalty or
threat of punishment, without which there can be no law, seeing that law
signifies nothing else than the command of the sovereign, as we have
shown. But whatever penalties and threats of punishment may be attached
to the law, they never follow in fact on an act of disobedience save
through the agency of the magistrate. The force of all laws is therefore
vested in those with power to command, whether it be the sovereign
prince or the magistrate, for they alone can constrain the subject to
obey, and actually punish him if he does not do so. Thus are those
commands executed which Demosthenes calls the nerves of the
commonwealth.

I have said that the magistrate has a public power of commanding, to
differentiate his authority from domestic power. I have said he has
power to constrain, to distinguish him from those who have only
cognizance of causes, who can judge, and pass sentence, and cite before
them, but who have no power of compulsion, or of executing their own
judgements and injunctions. Such were the ancient pontiffs, and in our
times the bishops. In ancient times commissioners appointed by the
magistrates had cognizance of the causes committed to them and could
pass sentence, and even summon parties before them. But they had no
power of compulsion, and they had to submit their sentences to the
magistrates for confirmation or rejection as seemed good to them ...
Nowadays by our statutes and ordinances, the commissions issued to
judges give them powers of compulsion, and they can execute their own
sentences by means of their serjeants and other public persons, under
commissions sealed with their seals. Bishops, having no such powers,
report their sentences to the magistrates for execution. ...

The simplest kind of constraint that can be imposed by those who have
powers of compulsion is seizure of body or goods. It is no good being
able to summon an accused person, pass judgement on him, and impose a
fine, unless one can seize the person or the goods of the convicted man
who will not obey ... The magistrate has power to convict or acquit, and
take cognizance some of matters concerning property, others concerning
property and honour, and yet others of property, honour, and corporal
pains exclusive or inclusive of the death penalty, with or without
appeal from their decisions. The highest degree of compulsion is power
of life and death, that is of condemning to death, or of pardoning those
who have incurred this sentence. This is the highest attribute of
sovereignty, proper to the majesty of a prince, and inherent in him to
the exclusion of all other public persons.

It follows that there are two sorts of public persons with a right to
command. One is the sovereign right which is absolute, unlimited, and
above the law, the magistrates and all citizens. The other is the legal
right, subject to the laws and the sovereign. This is proper to the
magistrate, and those who have extraordinary powers conferred on them by
commission. These persons can exercise the right only until their office
is revoked or their commission expired. The prince after God recognizes
no superior whatsoever. The magistrate, under God, holds his powers of
the prince and exercises them subject to the prince and the laws. The
citizen, under God, is each according to his degree subject to the
prince, his laws, and his magistrates, each in his proper sphere. I
should add that I comprehend under the name of magistrate all those who
have rights of jurisdiction annexed to their fiefs, for these rights
they hold of the prince just as does any other magistrate. Only
sovereign princes have an absolute right to command, in the sense that
they alone can use the phrase 'I ordain that ... '. The will of the
magistrate, and of all others who have power to command is subject to
the will of the sovereign, to which they are strictly bound, for he can
revise, amend, or revoke his orders at will. Therefore the magistrates
can never, either individually or collectively use the phrases 'for such
is our good pleasure', or 'on pain of death' in the commissions they
issue. Only the sovereign can do this in his ordinances.

This raises an important question which has never been properly
determined, and that is whether the power of the sword is peculiar to
the prince and inseparable from his sovereignty, so that the magistrate
has only the right of execution of high justice, or whether such power
is proper to the magistrate because communicated to him by the prince.
...

But this point cannot be settled unless two other questions are
resolved. First whether an office belongs to the commonwealth, to the
sovereign, to him who holds it, or is common to the public and the
subject; second whether the power which is delegated by the institution
of a magistrate belongs to him to whom it is given in virtue of his
office, or whether it belongs to the person of the prince, but is
exercised by the magistrate, or is common to the prince and the
magistrate. The first question presents no difficulty. All magistracies,
jurisdictions, and offices whatsoever belong to the commonwealth (except
in a despotic monarchy) and the provision only belongs to the sovereign.
They cannot be appropriated by individuals except by the grant of the
sovereign, the consent of the estates, or confirmed by long undisputed
enjoyment, as is the case with the duchies, marquisates, counties and
other feudal jurisdictions which were in ancient times commissions which
could be revoked at will by the sovereign, but were subsequently granted
for a man's life, and then to his heirs, male and then female, till they
have become a form of patrimony in many kingdoms. The power of the sword
and other feudal jurisdictions are now without doubt the property of the
holders once they have rendered faith and homage, sworn to hold of the
sovereign, saving always the right of appeal and other sovereign rights.
...

Although the powers of the marshals are only given them for the
prosecution of war, nevertheless military discipline carries with it the
power of the sword, although this is not expressly laid down by statute,
and has nothing in common with the powers legally vested in police and
other magistrates ... In all commonwealths the power of the sword
belongs to marshals and captains in chief, without limitation, or
restriction to any given form of procedure, or the ascription of given
penalties to given crimes and misdemeanours. All is left to their
judgement and discretion. They therefore cannot be regarded as simple
executors of the law, for there is no law governing their modes of
action. One must therefore conclude that in their case the power of the
sword is transferred to them in person. ...

This point cleared up, we can proceed to the next. It follows that the
powers granted to a magistrate by his institution to an office are
proper to that office, since the office is not his personal property ...
One can lay down as a general rule that whenever and in as much as
magistrates or commissioners are obliged by laws and ordinances to use
the powers committed to them in a strictly prescribed manner, whether in
matters of procedure, or in the sentences they must inflict without
power of increasing or modifying them, they are the simple executioners
and ministers of the prince and the laws. No authority properly belongs
to them whether it be a matter of police, or justice, or war, or
diplomacy. But where they are allowed to use their own judgement and
discretion, power and authority properly belongs to them. There are two
principal considerations that magistrates in all commonwealths should
have before their eyes, and those are the law and equity. That is to say
there is always the question of how the law is to be executed, and of
the function of the magistrate in relation to it. The word judgement
should be confined to that which is ordained by the magistrate under the
terms of the law. The word decree only refers to that which is based on
the principles of equity and not law. For this reason the decisions of
the prince are called decrees and not judgements, since the sovereign is
not subject to the law. It is an error then to use the term decree for
anything else than a sentence of the council proceeding from
deliberations undertaken at the prince's instance, a sentence of the
prince himself, or an order of a magistrate to which neither law nor
custom binds him. 

There is the same relation between equity and the function of the
magistrate as there is between law and its execution. In the cases in
which the magistrates are not bound by rigid rules of law they resemble
arbitrators in a matter of right. Where they are strictly bound by the
letter of the law they resemble judges appointed to take cognizance of
the facts simply without power of adjudicating on the justice of the
cause. In the one case their position is servile, in the other
honourable, because in the one case they are bound by the law and in the
other not. In the one case they are only concerned with determining the
facts, in the other with determining what is right, so that in the
former case the decision rests with the law, and not with them as in the
latter case. By way of underlining this difference, the law allows no
appeal from a sentence in which the magistrate has no option but to
apply the letter of the law, except an appeal against conviction. But
one can appeal against a sentence which depends on the discretion of the
magistrate. The penalty inflicted by the law however is inflicted by the
sovereign, from whom there is no appeal.

In ancient times it was usual to bind the hands of magistrates,
governors, ambassadors, and generals in the field by compelling them by
the strict letter of the law in what they undertook, the forms they
used, and the penalties they inflicted, without power of addition or
subtraction of any sort. Today the tendency is all the other way. There
is hardly a state in which pains and penalties do not depend upon the
consideration and arbitrament of the magistrate. In all civil cases he
has complete discretion, without being bound in any way by the pains
ascribed by Roman law or by decisions recorded in the courts. The
Emperor Justinian caused a great deal of confusion by attempting to
embody these latter in a code strictly binding on magistrates in the
execution of their functions. But judges and jurists alike wished to do
what they considered just, and that was often incompatible with ancient
rules. In the end it was found necessary to leave all to the conscience
and good faith of the judges, owing to the variety of circumstances, of
places, and persons. This variety cannot be comprehended in any law or
ordinance. And although there are still certain pains and penalties
which are required by law to be inflicted without qualification in
certain cases, nevertheless the magistrates do not keep to the
restrictions. An example is the edict against coining published by King
Francis I, inflicting the death penalty in cases either civil or
criminal. The very parlements, bailiffs, and seneschals who registered
it without demur do not keep it. They have found by time and experience
that the edict is inequitable. The infinite variety of circumstances do
not permit of uniform treatment. ...

The magistrate, when not in court or exercising his magisterial
function, is no more than any other private citizen, and if he does
anyone a wrong, he may be resisted and legal redress sought. But when
exercising his function in his official resort, and not exceeding his
powers, there can be no doubt that he must be obeyed whether he does
that which is right or wrong, for so says the law. If he exceeds his
sphere or his competence one is not bound to obey if the excess is
notorious. The remedy is the appeal. If there is no possibility of
appeal, or if the magistrate persists without deferring to his superior,
then one must distinguish between the wrong that is irreparable and that
which can be remedied. If the latter, the injured person has no right of
offering any sort of resistance. If the former, for instance if it is a
question of life or limb and the magistrate persists in proceeding to
execute judgement without permitting appeal, in that case one can
resist, not so much in order to defy the magistrate, as to defend the
life of one in danger, provided always the action is disinterested. It
is never permissible to resist the magistrate in the confiscation of
property, even if he is exceeding his powers, and will not allow an
appeal. One can proceed to appeal, or petition, or to bring an action
against him, or by some other means. But there is no law human or divine
that permits one to take the law into one's own hands, and use force
against the magistrate, as some have argued. This opens the way to
rebels to trouble the commonwealth. For if it is permitted to the
subject to seek redress against the magistrate by force, by parity of
argument one could similarly resist the sovereign prince, and trample
the laws underfoot altogether. ...

Not only is it not permissible to offend or injure the magistrates by
word or deed, but they should be honoured and reverenced as those to
whom God has given power ... The magistrate on his side should merit
respect for his justice, his prudence, and devotion, so that subjects
should have sufficient occasion to honour him. He should not prejudice
the honour of the commonwealth by his own unworthiness, for a fault
committed by a magistrate is doubly reprehensible. By a provision in his
laws Solon allowed the magistrate who was drunk in the exercise of his
duties to be put to death. This illustrates how strongly vice was
reprobated, and a good reputation expected in a magistrate. Many
magistrates seek to avoid criticism by severity in judgement. Others
seek popularity by pardoning freely. But the law condemns both excesses.
Many of those who have discretionary powers of punishment not precisely
defined by law make the mistake of thinking that equity supposes a
greater leniency than the rigour of the law requires, imagining that
equity does not spring from strict justice but from mercy. But equity is
not to be identified with either justice or mercy, but is a balance
which can incline either way. If the crime is greater than the penalties
of the law cover, the magistrate with discretionary powers should
increase them. If the misdemeanour is a light one, he should mitigate
them. He should not aim at the reputation of a merciful magistrate; for
this is a fault more to be avoided than a reputation for severity. For
severity, though it is blameworthy, maintains the subject in obedience
to the laws, and the sovereign who has instituted them. That is why the
law of God expressly forbids the exercise of mercy towards the poor in
giving judgement. ...

Concerning Corporate Associations, Guilds, Estates,[7] and Communities
[CHAPTER VII][8]

HAVING discussed the family and its members, sovereign power, and
magistrates, let us now consider corporate associations and guilds,
beginning with their origins, proceeding to their powers and privileges,
and concluding by deciding whether their existence is indispensable to
the commonwealth. The difference between the family and a corporate
association or guild, and the latter and the commonwealth, is the
difference between the part and the whole. A community of a number of
heads of households, or of a village, a town or a province can subsist
without there being any commonwealth, and the family without there being
any guild. But a group of families bound together by mutual trust forms
a corporate association or community, and a group of corporate
associations and communities bound together by sovereign power forms a
commonwealth. The family is a natural community, the guild a civil one.
The commonwealth is, in addition, a community governed by sovereign
power, but it can be so small as to include no other civil communities
or guilds, but to consist only of family groups. The word community is
common to the family, the guild, and the commonwealth. The word
corporate association properly speaking refers to a group of families,
or a group of guilds, or a mixed group of both families and guilds.

The origin of all corporate associations and guilds is rooted in the
family. As the principal stem put forth branches, so it was necessary to
found separate households, hamlets, and villages, so that the family
spread over a whole neighbourhood. But with the increase in numbers, it
became no longer possible for them all to inhabit and find sustenance in
a single place, and they were compelled to spread abroad. Gradually the
villages grew into towns, each with its separate interests and distinct
locality. As these communities were originally without laws, without
magistrates, and without sovereign rulers, quarrels easily arose over
such things as ownership of some spring or well. We find evidence of
this in the Scriptures, and how the stronger party drove its weaker
neighbours from their houses and villages. This led to the towns first
surrounding themselves with ditches and then walls, and to men
associating together, some for the defence of their homes and families,
others to attack those in possession, and rob, despoil, and destroy
them. The activities which were held in the greatest esteem among
primitive men, says Plutarch, were the massacre, slaughter, and ruin of
their fellows, and the reduction of them to slavery. We read also in
Thucydides that conditions were the same throughout Greece only a little
before his day, and brigandage was not in the least contemned. ...

This licence and impunity in preying upon one another compelled men, who
knew neither rulers nor magistrates, to join together as friends for
mutual defence one against another, and institute communities and
brotherhoods ... A society or a community is rooted in mutual affection,
that sacred flame which first springs into life with love between
husband and wife, then between parents and children, then between
brothers and their kindred, till it includes all those belonging to or
allied to the family group. But it would have nickered out had it not
been kept alight and fed by alliances, communities, corporate
associations, and guilds, instituted by all sorts of people who knew no
form of commonwealth, and were ignorant of the nature of sovereign
power. This is illustrated in the book of Judges, where we read that the
Hebrews were long without princes or magistrates, each living as he
chose according to his own good pleasure, in perfect freedom. But they
were bound together into communities of families and of tribes, and when
harassed by their enemies, gatherings of the tribes met and chose a
leader, whom God had inspired, to whom they gave sovereign authority.
Many families and tribes thus united together by a sovereign power
formed a commonwealth.

The first princes and lawgivers, not yet having discovered how to keep
their subjects in the paths of justice, founded fraternities, guilds,
and communities, for the parts and members of the body politic being
thereby brought into agreement among themselves, it would be easier to
regulate the commonwealth as a whole. Numa, the King and lawgiver of the
Romans, established fraternities and guilds for all crafts, and to each
fraternity appointed a patron, priests, and special sacrifices. Later a
fraternity of merchants was founded, with Mercury as its patron, after
the example of Solon, who permitted fraternities to be instituted for
any sort of purpose, with power to make such statutes as they wished,
provided they did not conflict with public law and custom. Lycurgus not
only permitted, but strictly enjoined the setting up of such communities
for both general and particular ends, and required all subjects to
gather themselves into guilds of fifteen persons each for the purpose of
common meals. These the Greeks called philitia because of the sworn
friendship the members entertained for one another. In Italy similar
guilds were called sodalitia because of the unity, intercourse and
friendship, which bound together those who were in the habit of eating
and drinking together. If differences arose amongst the associates, they
composed them themselves, realizing that mutual trust is the foundation
of any society, and much more necessary to men than justice. Justice is
never pitiful. Involving as it does strict exaction of rights, it often
makes enemies of friends. But mutual affection leads men to make
concessions, and this secures that natural justice shall prevail. The
sole end of all laws divine and human is to foster love among men, and
between men and God, and this is best secured by intercourse and daily
association ... Nowadays this is better observed among the Swiss than
any other people in the world. In every town the fraternities and craft
guilds have their guildhalls where they hold frequent banquets and
festive meetings. The smallest village never lacks a communal hall for
such purposes. Disputes are normally settled amicably, and the sentence
recorded in chalk on the table at which they have eaten. As well as
artisans and merchants, priests and bishops had their guilds and
fraternities, and philosophers too, especially the Pythagoreans who
lived together in common for the most part.

So much for the origin and growth of corporate associations and
communities, which in course of time have come to be regulated by laws,
statutes, and customs, in all commonwealths. In order the easier to
explain this last development, one can say that all corporate
associations and guilds are instituted for the purpose of religion; or
police, which includes the administration of justice and the
distribution of obligations; or to regulate the food supply and the
merchants who handle it, and the crafts necessary to the commonwealth;
or for discipline. A guild can be confined to a single craft or
profession, or type of merchandise or kind of jurisdiction. Or many
guilds can form a single corporate association, such as a guild for all
crafts, merchants dealing in all sorts of commodities, all branches of
learning, or all the magistrates. Or many guilds can become a general
community or university. And not only guilds and communities, but all
the inhabitants of a village, a district or a province have the right of
association, and can, together with the guilds and communities, assemble
as Estates. Each of these can have its particular regulations, statutes,
and privileges.

We can therefore say that a corporate association or a guild is a legal
right of communal organization, subject to sovereign power. The word
legal implies that it is authorized by the sovereign, for without his
permission no guild can be instituted. It also implies there is a
constitution of the guild, determining the time, place, and form of
meeting, and the business it is competent to transact. The word communal
signifies that there can be no college where there is no common bond,
though it is not necessary that everything should be in common. It is
enough if there is an assembly open to all colleagues, a common trustee,
or a common purse. It is not necessary that there should be a common
life. Some people have called it a guild when three or more persons live
together and share their goods in common. But this is a double error. In
the first place such a group is not a guild, but parties to a contract
for the sharing of property. In the second place colleagues of a guild
live in their own houses apart, as do fraternities of craftsmen.

There are no restrictions as to the number that may form a guild, save
that it must be more than three. By colleagues, I mean those who are
equal in respect of communal rights, each having a deliberative voice.
But the guild, or the prince, can choose one of the colleagues to rule,
correct, and punish each individual among his colleagues. Bishops and
abbots have power to chastise canons and monks. But if the head of the
guild has such power over the whole body considered collectively, it is
not properly speaking a guild, but rather a form of the family, like the
colleges of young scholars where none of the bursars have a deliberative
voice. If some of the bursars have collegiate rights and a deliberative
voice in the assembly, then it is a college even though the rest of the
young scholars are subject to the power and correction of a principal.
...

The person chosen by the guild or the prince to have authority over all
his colleagues individually has two characters, one in relation to each
of the others, and one in relation to the guild as a whole. He is called
the principal, the bishop, the abbot, the prior, the president as the
case may be, having authority to command each of the others. But in
relation to the guild as a whole he is just one of the colleagues,
though he has precedence over the rest. That is why these distinctions
are preserved in the terminology used, bishop, canons and chapter,
abbot, monks, and convent, principal, bursars, and college. One of the
greatest of the jurists[9] was in error on this point when he said that
the philosophers use college for the persons who make it up. But no
philosopher has said this, for college is a legal concept. The whole
revenue and privileges of a college may be vested in one person, all the
others having died. The college survives legally and its property cannot
be seized for the fisc, nor by private persons until the college has
been dissolved by the authority of the sovereign. ...

The origin and definition of a guild and a community having been
demonstrated, its authority in general must be considered. These general
matters cannot be ascertained from articles of incorporation, statutes,
and particular privileges, for they are infinite in number, being
diverse for the diversity of communities. The first corporate
associations and guilds in any commonwealth, and those which are most
influential, are the colleges of judges and magistrates. Not only have
they authority over the minority of the college considered collectively,
and over each in particular, but also over persons who are not members
of the college, but subject to its jurisdiction. The peculiarity of
colleges of this type by comparison with all others is that whereas
guilds are established in general to regulate what is common, colleges
of judges and magistrates are instituted chiefly for the purpose of
regulating the affairs of outside persons, and even other colleges, and
correcting them if they do anything contrary to their laws and statutes.

An upright man should be concerned first to be just in himself, before
he starts administering justice to others, whence the Hebrews had a
proverb that charity begins at home if it is to be true charity.
Colleges of judges therefore should first establish a just order within
their own ranks, before dispensing it to other people. It is therefore
pertinent to consider whether it is better that colleges of magistrates
should punish their own members, or submit the case to outsiders. To be
brief, one must make a distinction. If the college is one of vicious
men, the correction of their own vices should not be left to them. But
if they are upright men there is no doubt that colleagues are better
judged by the college than by other judges. There are imponderable
values in each college which cannot be properly understood nor judged
except by the members of that body. Moreover this reinforces the bond of
union among the colleagues. For this reason the Emperor Adrian permitted
a Roman senator only to be tried by the Senate. For the same reason
civil suits between merchants, and suits concerning matters of trade
have been very wisely conceded to the guilds and colleges of merchants,
first throughout Italy and then in France. They decide summarily the
disputes which arise out of contracts, which have peculiarities not
found in other kinds of suits. As to other corporate associations and
guilds, although they are not instituted for the purpose of justice or
command, they nearly always have a limited power of coercion under their
statutes and privileges. At times they even have unlimited powers, and
correction is left to the prudence and discretion of the guild or its
head. Such power should be exercised with the moderation that a father
shows his son ... Canonists ascribe to abbots jurisdiction over their
religious to the exclusion of the bishop, and this has been confirmed by
a judgement of the Parlement of Paris. Monks cannot be brought before
the magistrate even for what they did before entering religion. But this
must be understood to refer to light and youthful follies only,
otherwise a way would be opened for robbers and murderers to retire into
such communities, in preference to the forests, to escape punishment.
...

As to the regulation of matters of individual interest to its members,
in my opinion a guild cannot do anything without the consent of all the
colleagues, as in the case of arbitrations. In all communities the
express consent of each is required in all matters of common interest
which concern all considered separately as individuals. But if it is a
question of what is common to all considered collectively, then, if the
greater part are agreed, they can oblige the rest, provided that what is
to be ordained is not contrary to the statutes of the college as
established by the sovereign, or by its founder and authorized by the
sovereign. The ordinances of the commonwealth, and the statutes of the
college not being slighted, the college can make regulations relating to
the affairs of the community which bind both the minority as a whole,
and each of the colleagues individually, provided that two thirds of the
total number are present in the assembly, even if not agreed. But the
majority considered as a corporate whole, still more the entire college,
cannot be bound by their own statutes, any more than can the prince by
his own law, the testator by his own will, or private individuals by
their contracts, since they can be dissolved by common consent. Thus two
thirds of the guild can repeal an ordinance made by the whole guild.
This is a general rule applying to all communities, corporate
associations, and guilds.

But in an assembly of estates made up of several corporate associations
such as the Diets of the Empire, and the Estates of other commonwealths,
which are composed of the three orders of clergy, nobles, and people,
two of them cannot do anything to the prejudice of the third. Bodin,
deputy for the third estate at Blois,[10] protested against the other
two estates, with many forceful arguments, that the appointment of a
body of thirty-six judges to examine the bills of recommendation
presented by the Estates was prejudicial to the interests of the
kingdom.

Whereupon the Archbishop of Lyons, president of the estate of the
clergy, argued that the estate of the clergy and of the nobility had
already settled the matter by so resolving. Bodin protested that from
earliest times each of the three estates had jealously guarded its right
not to be liable to coercion against its will by the other two. This
principle had been accepted without question at the Estates of Orleans,
and was the established practice in the Estates of the Empire, of
England, and of Spain. He therefore prayed the other two orders to
forgive him if he opposed the proposal, since he represented the
interest of the third estate. This led forthwith to the matter being
debated, and the estate of the nobility and the estate of the clergy
changed their minds. That same day the king said in the presence of the
Bishop of Angers and other seigneurs that Bodin had made the Estates
dance to his tune. ...

To sum up on the subject of the powers of corporate associations and
legitimate communities, the law of Solon is accepted on principle in all
commonwealths, and approved by both jurists and canonists, that
corporate associations and legitimate communities can establish such
ordinances as they think in their best interests, provided they do not
derogate from the statutes of the college, imposed or authorized by the
king, or run counter to the ordinances of the commonwealth ... I do not
agree however with those who say that a guild can make regulations, but
cannot attach penalties to the breach of them. An ordinance has no force
if there is no punishment for ignoring it, or if he who made the
ordinance cannot compel its observation by penalties. We have any number
of examples of craft guilds, legally incorporated, that have certain
powers of coercion, of inspection of workshops and warehouses, and of
seizure or confiscation of anything made contrary to the regulations,
though the magistrate always has cognizance if they are resisted in so
doing. ...

Let us now consider how an offending community can be punished... The
acts of the majority of colleagues, or inhabitants of a town, agreed
upon in their legally constituted assemblies, are the acts of the whole
community or town. That is why in such a case the whole community is
punished. Rebellions of towns, and insurrections of whole communities
are punished by deprivation of privileges, of the right of association,
by fines, imposts, enslavement, and other penalties according to the
gravity of the case. But no such punishment should be inflicted unless
the rebellion, or other crime, was committed by the will of the
community, and agreed to in their formal assembly, as was decided by an
order of the Court of the Parlement regarding the commune of Corbeil.
Nevertheless if the penalty is corporal, even though the whole community
should be convicted, only those who have consented should suffer it. But
if the thing is done by some one particular person on the advice and
with the will of the rest, they can each and all be prosecuted, and the
punishment of one does not acquit the rest.

It may be argued that there seems little appearance of justice in
punishing a whole community when the greater part were innocent of the
offence. The alternative is however worse, and that is when victims are
selected by lot, and the innocent run the same risk with the guilty that
the choice will fall on them. This happened when the Roman army was
decimated for having behaved with cowardice in the face of the enemy.
The lot frequently fell on the bravest and most valiant, but they were
executed for cowardice along with the rest. This incident was cited by
the Senator Cassius when persuading the Senate to put four hundred
slaves to death because one of their number had murdered their master.
It is not, it is true, a solution of a problem to point out that the
alternative action is worse. But one of the first principles of justice
in action is that of avoiding among many inconveniences that which is
the worst. When it is a question of crimes, it is of the first
importance that they should not go unpunished. ...

The prince who suffers seditions and rebellions of the communities of
his realm, whether towns or provinces, to go unpunished, gives
encouragement to others to follow suit. Those who practice a remorseless
cruelty, on the other hand, put the whole state in peril. He earns the
reputation of a just prince, and preserves his state, who takes the
middle course and only punishes the leaders of a rebellion. This was
what Charles of France, afterwards King of Naples, did. Sent to chastise
the inhabitants of Montpellier, he deprived them of their communal
rights, consuls, and local jurisdiction, ordered the walls to be razed
and the bells dismantled, and imposed a fine of one hundred and twenty
thousand gold francs. Some writers say that one half of the property of
the inhabitants was confiscated, and six hundred burghers executed by
drowning, hanging, or burning. In effect however the matter was managed
with more moderation and only the guilty were executed. Yet there had
not been at Montpellier any assembly of the inhabitants, nor a
deliberate conspiracy of the whole body. Even when all the inhabitants
of a city have severally and collectively debated and decided upon a
rebellion or a conspiracy, the wise prince will not punish them all, for
fear of putting the whole state in danger. ...

It remains to be decided whether a commonwealth can dispense with
associations and guilds. We have shown how men led by a sociable and
companionable instinct, proceed to the foundation of communities of
various kinds, estates, corporate associations, and guilds, till finally
they achieve a commonwealth. After God, such communities have no surer
foundation than friendship and goodwill among men, the which cannot
endure unless fostered by associations, whether of estates,
fraternities, corporate associations, or guilds. So to ask whether
communities and corporate associations are necessary to the
commonwealth, is to ask if the commonwealth can subsist without
fellowship, which even the world itself cannot do.

I insist on this point because there have been those who think that
corporate associations and guilds ought to be prohibited, forgetting
that the family and the commonwealth itself are nothing but communities.
It is an error that men of the best minds very often fall into, Because
of some inconvenience attendant on a particular custom or ordinance,
they want to abolish the whole thing, without considering what good it
would do. I confess that the existence of ill-regulated communities
entails a swarm of factions, seditions, cabals, monopolies leading at
times to the total ruin of the commonwealth. Instead of mutual
fellowship and charitable goodwill, one sees plots and conspiracies of
one against another hatched. What is worse, under the veil of religion
there have been societies practising a wicked and execrable impiety.
There is no better example than the fraternity of the bacchanals in
Rome. More than seven thousand persons were accused, convicted, and many
executed or banished for the abominable misdeeds which they committed in
the name of religion. This led to the suppression of the fraternities of
the bacchanals throughout Italy by order of the Senate, confirmed by the
people. A law was published forbidding sacrifices henceforth save in
public. Long before this a Greek sage had argued with the Athenians that
sacrifices under cover of darkness were extraordinarily suspect. It is
much more conducive to the welfare of the commonwealth either to permit
the public assembly of societies which claim religion as their purpose,
or to prohibit them altogether, than to permit them to function as
secret societies. For any sort of plot can be initiated in such secret
sessions, and fostered till it infects the whole commonwealth. This is
what happened at Mnster where the Anabaptists multiplied in secret to
such an extent that they invaded the whole state of Westphalia. ...

Therefore in answer to the question whether it is a good thing to have
Estates and colleges, or whether the commonwealth can well dispense with
them, I hold that there is nothing that contributes more to the security
of popular states and the ruin of tyrannies; for these two types of
commonwealth, contrary in themselves, owe their preservation or
destruction to contrary conditions. Similarly aristocracies and rightly
ordered monarchies are preserved by a moderate provision of Estates,
corporate associations, and well-regulated communities. Popular states
therefore encourage all forms of guilds and corporate associations, as
did Solon when he set up a popular state in Athens. But the tyrant tries
to eradicate them altogether, knowing full well that unity and bonds of
friendship among his subjects spells his inevitable ruin. The good King
Numa was the first to institute guilds of craftsmen. Tarquin the Proud
was the first to suppress them and prohibit assemblies of the people. He
even tried to get rid of the Senate by compassing the death of
individual senators without making any new nominations. But immediately
he was expelled popular assemblies were restored, the ranks of the
Senate filled, the suppressed craft guilds revived. This policy was
continued until they had reached a total of about five hundred, and had
become so powerful as practically to rule the state, when the Senate
abolished them. Nevertheless Claudius the Tribune, who renounced his
title to nobility, and got himself adopted by a simple merchant, in
order to qualify for the Tribune's office, restored and enlarged the
guilds and fraternities in order to balance the nobles by the people.
But the moment Caesar was made dictator he abolished them to enhance his
own power and overthrow theirs. Once Augustus was secure in power
however he restored them by express edict. Nero the tyrant suppressed
them again. For tyrants have always hated popular associations and
alliances. ...

But a just monarchy has no more secure foundations than the support of
popular Estates and the communities of the realm. For whenever there is
occasion to raise money, assemble the armed forces, or defend the state
against the enemy, these things can hardly be compassed except by means
of Estates-Generals, or Estates of each province, town or community.
Even those who wish to abolish Estates haven't any recourse save to them
in times of necessity, for once assembled to gether the people find the
will and the strength for the defence and safety of their princes. This
is especially so when an Estates-General of all the people is assembled
in the presence of the sovereign. Matters touching the whole body of the
commonwealth, and each of its members are there made public. There the
just complaints and grievances of poor subjects, which otherwise would
never reach the prince's ears, are heard and attended to. There the
frauds, depredations, and usurpations committed in the prince's name,
but entirely without his knowledge, are discovered. It is extraordinary
what satisfaction subjects get from seeing their prince preside in their
assemblies, how proud they are to appear in his presence. If he hears
their complaints and receives their petitions, even though he must
frequently refuse them, they are exalted by the mere fact of having had
access to their prince. This practice of holding Estates is better
observed in Spain than anywhere else in the world, for they meet every
two or three years. This is also the case in England, for the people
will not give up their control of taxation, so Parliament must meet. ...

I have said that moderation, which is in all situations a virtue, ought
to be observed with regard to all kinds of associations and guilds in
aristocracies and royal monarchies. To abolish all such societies is to
embark on a barbarous tyranny and so ruin the state. But it is also
dangerous to permit all sorts of assemblies and fraternities whatsoever.
They are often a cover for conspiracies and illicit monopolies, of which
we have had only too many examples. This is the reason why it has been
found necessary from time to time to abolish fraternities by express
edict, though such edicts have been very ill-observed. It is better
however to get rid of abuses only, rather than root out good and bad
alike. ...



1. Though this book is devoted to an analysis of the types of public
functionaries characteristic of the commonwealth as such, Bodin has
France in mind all through as his model, and so assumes a certain
familiarity in the reader with French institutions. For elucidation of
much of what he says in this book and elsewhere see R. Doucet, Les
institutions de la France au XVIe sicle, 1948; and A. Esmein, Cours
lmentaire d'histoire du droit franais, 1892, etc. 

2. There were many occasions when such a balm was set up in Florence.
Bodin probably has in mind the one set up in 1434 under cover of which
the Medici established their political dominance in the following 50
years.

3. After the war of the Public Weal, by an Ordinance of October 21st,
1467, the King pledged himself to fill no office 'unless vacant by
death, voluntary resignation, or by forfeiture previously adjudged after
sentence in a court of law'. In effect this made officers of the crown
irremovable. It was however frequently violated, and only when offices
in general became purchasable, under Francis I, were their holders
secure.

4. Lettres de justice were designed to mitigate the rigour and rigidity
of the customary law in civil cases. They were issued when parties in
civil suits wished, for instance, to appeal against a judgement, or
plead hardship in the strict application of the law, or contest the
validity of a deed on grounds of some irregularity. They were directive,
not compulsive, empowering the judge to admit the plea, but leaving the
decision to him. Mandement was a term of much more general application,
covering all orders indicating the king's will in the matter. For
instance, the letters patent communicating to the lus the amount to be
raised in taxation in their several districts were mandements. So also
were the letters permitting members of the privileged orders to buy salt
free of gabelle. The claim had to be verified by the Chambre des Comtes.
Most important, to Bodin's mind, were the mandements bestowing any kind
of royal gift or grant. They required verification as to the facts by
the college of the four Trsoriers de France.

5. The terrible Albert Alcibiades of Brandenburg-Culmbach. He took
advantage of the revolt of the Lutheran Princes against Charles V in
1552 to wage his private war of aggression on the Bishops of Franconia,
which was distinguished for the ferocity with which he devastated the
countryside.

6. Bodin was thinking of the custom requiring the registration of royal
edicts by the Parlement of Paris. (In his time the Parlement offered
considerable resistance, especially to edicts concerning religion.)
Hence for him legal responsibility for consent belongs not to the
Estates representing the three orders, but to the Colleges of Judges who
administer the law.

7. The terms are, corps, colleges, tats, communauts. 

8. Chapter VI is concerned with the relations of the different grades of
officials to one another. But it adds nothing in principle to Bodin's
account of the nature of magistracy.

9. There is a marginal reference to Bartolus.

10. These Estates met in December-January 1576-77, a few months after
the publication of the Six books of the Commonwealth. The passage was
added in all editions after 1577. The point of the measure was to secure
that the proposals of the Estates should be embodied in the forthcoming
Ordinance. But the third estate feared its interests would be swamped.
Bodin moreover objected on principle to dictation by the Estates to the
king.

____________

BOOK IV

The Rise and Fall of Commonwealths [CHAPTER I]

COMMONWEALTHS originate either in a family which gradually grows into
one; or a specific agreement among some chance assemblage of men; or by
colonization from some older commonwealth, as when a new swarm of bees
leaves the hive, or a cutting from a tree roots and bears fruit more
quickly than a plant raised from seed. In all cases the commonwealth can
be founded either in violence or in consent. In the latter case a
certain number surrender their full and entire liberty and submit
themselves to the sovereign power of the others to be their sovereign
rulers without law, or alternatively to be their sovereign rulers
subject to certain conditions and fundamental laws.

Once the commonwealth has come into existence, if it is well ordered, it
can secure itself against external enemies or internal disorders. Little
by little it grows in strength till it reaches the height of its
perfection. But the uncertainty and mutability of human affairs make it
impossible that this pre-eminence should last long. Great states often
fall suddenly from their own weight. Others are destroyed by the
violence of their enemies at the very moment when they feel themselves
most secure. Others decay slowly and are brought to their ends by
internal causes. As a general rule the most famous commonwealths suffer
the greatest changes of fortune. This is no occasion of condemnation,
especially if the change is due to external forces, as most often
happens, for the most successful states are those that most provoke envy
... Wherefore it is of the greatest importance to understand the causes
of these revolutions before either condemning or emulating.

I mean by change in the commonwealth, change in the form of government,
as when the sovereignty of the people gives way to the authority of a
prince, or the government of a ruling class is replaced by that of the
proletariat, or the reverse in each case. If the constitution of the
sovereign body remains unaltered, change in laws, customs, religion, or
even change of situation, is not properly a change in the commonwealth,
but merely alteration in an already existing one. On the other hand the
form of the government of a commonwealth may change while the laws and
customs remain what they were, except as they affect the exercise of
sovereign power. This happened when Florence was converted from a
popular state into a monarchy. One cannot therefore measure the duration
of a commonwealth from the foundation of a city, as does Paolo
Manucci,[1] when he says that Venice has endured for twelve hundred
years. It has changed three times in that period. It is possible also
that neither the city, the people, nor the laws suffer any change or
loss, yet the whole commonwealth perishes. This happens when a sovereign
prince voluntarily subjects himself to another, or leaves his state by
will to a popular democracy. Atalus, King of Asia, Coctius, King of the
Alps, and Polemon, King of Damasia made the Roman Republic the heirs of
their states. But this was not so much a change in the form of
commonwealth as a total abolition of sovereign power. On the other hand
if a single city or province constitutes itself one or more popular
states or kingdoms, this is not a change of commonwealth but the
foundation of one or more new states. This happened when the Swiss
Cantons and the Grisons, heretofore vicariates and provinces of the
Empire, constituted themselves eighteen distinct commonwealths. ...

All change is voluntary or necessary, or mixedly both. Necessity can
also bring about a natural or a violent occurrence. Birth is more
excellent than death, but in observing the course of nature we come to
understand that they are inseparable; the one cannot be without the
other. Death is more tolerable when it is the consequence of old age, or
follows in the train of a long and insidious malady. Similarly in the
case of commonwealths, with the lapse of centuries their very age
necessarily brings about their downfall, and not always by violence, for
one cannot describe as violent that change which happens to all things
in this world in the ordinary course of nature. Change however need not
always be from good to bad, from life to death, but can also be
progression, from that which is good to that which is better, whether as
the result of a slow process of natural development, or of some sudden
and violent alteration. Voluntary change is of course the smoothest and
easiest of all. Whoever is invested with sovereign power resigns it into
the hands of others, and so brings about a change in the form of the
commonwealth. The change from a popular state to a monarchy when Sulla
was dictator was extraordinarily bloody and violent, but the reverse
change from a monarchy, disguised as a dictatorship, back to a popular
state was temperate and easy. He voluntarily resigned his sovereign
authority to the people, no force or violence was necessary, and
everyone was satisfied. There was a similar occasion in Siena when it
changed from an aristocracy to a popular state after the tyranny of
Pandolfo. It was accomplished with the full consent of the magnates, who
willingly resigned their authority into the hands of the people, and
left the town.[2]

A man can pass from sickness to health, or health to sickness as a
result of either external causes, such as his diet, or internal causes
effecting bodily or mental changes, or of such accidental causes as
wounds, or curative medicine. Similarly a commonwealth can suffer change
and decay at the hands of friends or enemies internal or external,
whether it is a change for the better or for the worse. Such changes are
often accomplished against the will of the citizens who, if there is no
alternative, must be constrained and compelled, as doctors constrain and
compel the insane for their own good. Lycurgus converted Sparta from a
monarchy to a popular state against the will of the citizens, or at any
rate the greater part of them. They attacked and wounded him, although
he was resigning for himself and his successors the claim to the throne
which belonged to him as a prince of the blood, and nearest in the line
of succession.

I have already said that there are only three forms of commonwealth. It
follows that there are properly speaking only six types of revolution
that can befall them, that is to say from monarchy into a popular state
and from popular state into monarchy, or from monarchy into aristocracy
and aristocracy into monarchy, or from aristocracy to popular state and
popular state into aristocracy. But each form of commonwealth can
undergo six kinds of imperfect revolution, that is to say from kingship
to despotism, despotism to tyranny, tyranny to kingship, kingship to
tyranny, tyranny to despotism, despotism to kingship. The same changes
can occur in the other two forms of the commonwealth, for an aristocracy
can be legitimate, despotic, or factious, and a popular state
legitimate, despotic, or anarchic. I call the change from a legitimate
aristocracy to a factious one, or from a tyranny to a monarchy
imperfect, because there is only a change in the quality of persons
governing, good or bad. But sovereignty remains in the monarch in one
case, and in the aristocracy in the other. ...

Men often enough die untimely, before they reach old age, in the very
flower of their youth, or even in childhood. Likewise there have been
commonwealths that have perished before they have achieved any
distinction in arms or in laws. Some indeed have been abortive, or
perished at birth, like the city of Mnster in the Empire of Germany,
dismembered from the Empire by the sect of the Anabaptists under their
king, John of Leyden. He entirely changed its form of government, its
laws and its religion. Throughout the three years of his reign the city
was continuously beseiged, till at last its defences were forced and its
king publicly executed. ...

I hold a commonwealth to be in its prime when it has reached the highest
pitch of perfection and of achievement of which it is capable, or
perhaps more accurately, when it is at its least imperfect. This can
only be judged after its decline and fall. Rome passed through the
stages of monarchy, tyranny, aristocracy, and popular government, but it
reached its highest perfection as a popular state, and during that phase
of its history it was never so illustrious in arms and in laws as in the
time of Papirius Cursor ... Never after that time was military and
domestic discipline so well maintained, faith better kept, the rites of
religion more piously observed, vice more severely punished; never
afterwards could it boast such valiant citizens. If it is objected that
it was still poor and confined within the frontiers of Italy, I would
answer that one cannot measure excellence by riches, nor perfection by
the extent of the conquered territories. The Romans were never more
powerful, rich, and mighty than under the Emperor Trajan. He crossed the
Euphrates and conquered a great part of Arabia Felix, built a bridge
over the Danube whose ruins we can still see, and humbled the barbarous
and savage peoples of those times. Nevertheless ambition, avarice, and
luxury had so corrupted the Romans that they only retained a shadow of
their ancient virtue ... Such are the considerations which one must bear
in mind if one is going to understand revolutions, though they have
never been properly treated before.

There are many causes of revolution in the form of the commonwealth, but
they can all be reduced to certain few fundamentals. There are first the
struggles for power that develop among the magnates whenever there is a
failure of heirs in the royal line, or when the great mass of the people
are very poor, and a small handful excessively rich, or where there is
great inequality in the distribution of estates and of honours. Or
revolutions may be brought about by the ambition which incites some men,
or the desire to avenge injuries, or the fear of punishment only too
well deserved. Again changes in law or in religion, the cruelty of
tyrants, or the indignation with which men see the highest offices in
the land defiled by the bestial and voluptuous behaviour of their
occupants, all precipitate revolutions.

I have already said that the original rulers and founders of
commonwealths were violent tyrants, but their successors were in some
cases despots, in others kings ruling by hereditary right. Further
changes were due to the causes I have already indicated. Thus it is that
all the histories, sacred and profane, agree that the first form of a
commonwealth, and the first creation of a sovereign power, was to be
found in the Assyrian monarchy. Its first prince, Nimrod, whom many call
Ninus, made himself sovereign by force and violence. His successors
ruled as despots, assuming an absolute right to dispose of the lives and
goods of their subjects as they thought fit until Arbaces, governor of
Media, dethroned Sardanapalus, the last Prince of Assyria, and made
himself king in his stead, without any form of election. He was able to
do this because Sardanapalus was given over to the vice of luxury,
spending his time among the women instead of the men of his court, and
men of spirit will not endure to find themselves subjects of one who is
a man only in appearance. We read also that the Princes of the Medes,
descended from Artabazus, the Kings of Persia, Egypt, and the Kings of
the Hebrews, the Macedonians, the Corinthians, the Spartans, Athenians,
and Celts all ruled by hereditary succession over kingdoms for the most
part founded in force and violence, though they subsequently came to be
regulated by good laws, and in accordance with the principles of
justice. 

This state of affairs continued until either there was a failure of
heirs in the royal line, or till some prince, abusing his power,
maltreated his subjects and so was expelled or killed. Thereupon their
subjects, fearing perhaps that they would fall again under a similar
tyranny if they gave sovereign power to a single person, or perhaps
merely reluctant to submit to the commands of someone who had been one
of themselves, founded an aristocracy, with scant regard however for the
wishes of the mass of the people. If by any chance some among the poor
and humble citizens also wanted a share in sovereignty, they beguiled
them with the fable of the hares who wished to command lions. Even if
monarchy was succeeded by a popular state, it was always arranged that
the rich or the nobly born should monopolize all public offices, and
occupy laws and estates. Thus Solon, having founded a popular state,
would not allow the poor and humble citizen to have any share in the
distribution of land. Again when the Romans expelled their kings, though
they proceeded to found a popular state, they reserved lands and
benefices to the nobility. We also read that after the first tyrants
were expelled, warriors and soldiers were always endowed with estates,
and the poorer people passed over, until Aristides and Pericles in
Athens, and Canuleius and other tribunes in Rome opened all offices, and
places and sources of profit, to all subjects alike. Since their time
people have discovered by the experience of many centuries that monarchy
is a more stable, a more desirable, and a more durable form of
commonwealth than either aristocracy or democracy, and that the best
monarchies are those in which there is a right of succession in the male
line. In consequence hereditary monarchies have been established
throughout the world. In some places however fear of what would happen
were there a failure of heirs male has led to the prince being given the
right to choose his successor, as did many Roman Emperors, and nowadays
many African rulers. In other cases the right of the election of the
successor of a prince who dies without heirs reverts to the people, or
in some cases, in the kingdoms of Poland, Bohemia, Hungary, Denmark,
Norway, and Sweden, the people elect even if there is an heir.

When the people have been ruled by a tyrant they always choose a just
and merciful prince, when by a coward, a weak king, or a scholar, they
look for some valiant captain. After the death of Numa, who only
concerned himself with matters of morals and religion, the Romans
elected the good captain Tullius Hostilius. It therefore generally
happens that the cruellest and most ruthless tyrants are succeeded by
just and equitable princes. They have before their eyes the miserable
end of the tyrant, and fear a like fate for themselves; or they may have
been well-educated in sound principles; or they may have been bound by
an oath on their coronation, which curtails their authority. Thus we see
that after the miserable death of Mark Antony Augustus governed most
wisely and virtuously a state which flourished in arms and in good laws.
...

It is no matter for wonder if there have been few virtuous princes.
There are, after all, few virtuous men, and princes are not usually
chosen even out of this small handful. It is therefore remarkable if one
does, among many, find one excellent ruler. And once such a one is
exalted to a position in which he has no superior save God alone,
assailed as he then is by all the temptations which are a trap even to
the most assured, it is a miracle if he preserves his integrity. But if
a prince arrays himself in the full splendour of justice, the flame he
kindles shines long after his death, so that his sons, even if they
should prove evil in their ways, are loved for the memory of their
father. Cambyses, cruel and evil as he was, was always adored by his
subjects, and respected by the rest, for love of the great Cyrus, his
father. Affection for the great Cyrus was so engraved on the hearts of
his subjects, that as Plutarch says, they admired anyone with a long
aquiline nose for no other reason than that Cyrus was so featured.

The tyranny of a single prince therefore does not bring a commonwealth
to the verge of revolution if he is the son of a good father. His estate
is like a great tree which has as many roots as it has branches. But the
self-made prince, who has no predecessors, is like a tall tree without
roots, liable to be overthrown by the first gust of wind. If the son and
successor of a tyrant follows in his father's footsteps, he and his
whole government are liable to be overthrown by a revolution. The son
has no security and is unpopular on account of his father's as well as
his own vices. If he cannot get help from his neighbours, or
alternatively is not upheld by strong armed forces, he lives under a
perpetual threat of expulsion, unless, of course, he is the successor of
a long line of kings. I say this because the virtue of a self-made king
is never sufficient to secure possession to his son, should that son
play the tyrant. ...

Revolutions come all the quicker if the tyrant is an oppressor, or
cruel, or a voluptuary, or something of all these things as were Nero,
Tiberius, and Caligula. But princes have been brought to ruin more
through the vice of licentiousness than for any other cause. It is much
more dangerous a threat to the prince's security than a reputation for
cruelty. Cruelty keeps men in fear, and inactive, inspiring the subject
with terror of his prince. But viciousness moves the subject to hatred
and contempt of his prince, for it is very generally believed that the
voluptuary is a coward at heart, and that the man who cannot command
himself is unworthy to command a whole people. Sardanapalus, King of
Assyria, Canades, King of Persia, Dionysius the Young and Hieronymus,
Kings of Sicily ... Galeazzo Sforza, Alessandro de' Medici, the Cardinal
Petruccio, tyrant of Siena, all lost their realms as a result of their
own viciousness, and the most of them also were killed in the act... But
states are not so easily brought to the point of revolution through the
cruelty of a prince, unless it be the extreme and bestial cruelty of a
Phalaris, a Nero, Vitellius, Domitian, Commodus, Caracalla, Ezzelino of
Padua, or Giovanni Maria of Milan who were all killed or driven out, and
their tyrannous governments supplanted by popular rule. This fate befell
them not so much for their cruelty to their humbler subjects (to whom
scant attention is paid in tyrannies) but for acts of individual cruelty
committed against the magnates and men of good family. Often the cause
of the catastrophe is not so much a cruel act as one that puts shame
upon a man, for to be shamed is more intolerable to men of honour than
to suffer cruelty. Bodila killed Childeric together with his wife and
unborn child for having had him whipped ... The murderers of tyrants
have nearly always seized the government, or the highest magistracies as
a reward for their action. Both Brutuses seized the highest offices in
Rome, the one for having driven out Tarquin, the other for having
assassinated Caesar... Luigi Gonzaga having killed Bonaccorsi, tyrant of
Mantua, was elected ruler by the subjects, and his posterity has
continued in the government for two hundred and fifty years. The
Venetians secured the lordship of Padua after they killed the tyrant
Ezzelino. ...

All monarchies newly founded on the ruins of an aristocratic or popular
state took their beginnings from the moment when one of the magistrates,
captains, or subordinate governors, having force at his disposal, raised
himself from the position of colleague to that of sovereign; or from
conquest by a foreign power; or from voluntary submission to the law and
government of another. The first is by far the most usual occurence, and
there have been any number of examples ... the Decemvirate in Rome and
after them Sulla and Caesar, the Scaligeri in Verona, the Bentivoglio in
Bologna, the Malatesta in Rimini, the Baglioni in Perugia, the Sforzas
in the duchy of Milan. But many others besides these have by force and
violence advanced from the position of a simple captain, or provincial
governor, to that of sovereign lord. For in matters of state one can
take it as a general rule that he who is in control of the armed forces
is master of the state. It is for this reason that in well-ordered
aristocracies and popular states the highest honours in the state are
not the positions of most effective power, and further, the most
responsible magistracies are always shared by a group of colleagues. If
this is not possible, and indeed in time of war such an arrangement is
positively dangerous, the term of office is always very short. Thus the
Romans instituted two consuls who commanded on alternate days. For
although the dissensions which so easily arise between two officials
equal in authority sometimes hold up the execution of business, the
commonwealth is not so exposed to the danger of conversion into a
monarchy as when there is a sole magistrate. For the same reason the
Roman dictator was only appointed for such a term as the crisis
required. It was never longer than six months, and sometimes lasted only
a single day. The time expired, his authority to command expired, and if
he continued to keep his forces in being, he could be accused of treason
against the Republic ... It is therefore of the utmost importance that
the laws governing the terms of office should be preserved without
modifications, and the legal terms not prolonged except in cases of
extreme necessity ... If the law had been thus strictly observed, Caesar
would never have seized control of the state. ...

The conversion of a popular state into an aristocracy is generally the
result of defeat in battle, or some other notable injury at the hands of
an enemy. On the other hand a popular state is secured and strengthened
by victory. These tendencies are illustrated in the histories of two
commonwealths, Athens and Syracuse. The Athenians, who till then had
enjoyed a popular form of government, having been defeated by the
Syracusans through the fault of their captain, Nicias, fell under the
dominion of four hundred citizens, though by a trick of Pisander they
were known as the Five Hundred. When the humbler citizens tried to
resist, they were overcome because the four hundred could dispose of the
armed forces, and used them to kill the leaders and keep the rest in
awe. But the Syracusans, puffed up by victory, destroyed their
aristocracy and set up a popular state. A little later, the Athenians,
on learning of the defeat of the Spartans by Alcibiades, killed or
expelled their four hundred rulers and restored the popular state under
the leadership of Thrasilus ... We read also that the Florentines, on
hearing of the sack of Rome and the captivity of Pope Clement,[3] at
once got rid of the oligarchy that he had established in Florence. They
persecuted, killed, or banished the partisans of the Medici, threw down
their statues, broke open their treasuries, expunged their names from
all buildings in the city and re-established the popular state. Again,
the moment the Swiss Cantons had defeated the nobles in the battle of
Sempach in 1377, there was no more heard of an aristocracy, nor of
recognizing the Emperor in any form whatsoever. The reason for a
revolution of this sort is the inconstancy and rashness of a populace,
without sense or judgement, and variable as the winds. It is stunned by
defeat and insupportable in victory. No enemy is more fatal to it than
success in its own undertakings, no master so wise as the one that
imposes the severest restraints on it, in other words, a victorious
enemy. In such a crisis the wiser and richer citizens on whom the
greatest burden falls, seeing dangers threaten from all sides, take the
conduct of affairs, abandoned by the people, into their own hands.
Indeed, the only way to secure the continuance of a popular state is to
keep it at war, and create enemies if they do not already exist. This
was the chief reason which led Scipio the Younger to try and stop the
razing of Carthage. He had the wisdom to foresee that a warlike and
aggressive people like the Romans would fall to making war on each
other, once all external enemies were disposed of ... But popular states
are more likely to change into monarchies as a result either of civil
war, or of the folly of the people in giving too much power to an
individual. ...

On the other hand when a tyranny is overthrown as a result of a civil
war, it is nearly always succeeded by a popular state. This is because
the people know no moderation, and once the tyrant is expelled, the
hatred of his memory, and the fear of once again falling a victim,
excites them to rush to the other extreme ... This happened in Rome
after the expulsion of Tarquin the Proud, and in Switzerland, once the
Imperial Vicars were killed, the people established a popular state
which has lasted till the present day, that is to say for two hundred
and sixty years. ...

It also sometimes happens that a people is so unstable that it is
impossible to find any form of government with which it does not become
discontented after a brief experience of it. The Athenians... the
Florentines and the Genoese were like this. The minute they had
established one form of government, they began to long for another. This
malady particularly affects those popular states whose citizens are of
an active and enquiring turn of mind, as were those whom I have
mentioned. Each citizen thought himself fitted to command the rest. When
the citizens are of a less restlessly intelligent type they submit
complacently to being ruled, and are easily brought to a decision in
their public assemblies. More subtle spirits argue the point till
intention evaporates in words. Personal ambition prevents anyone
deferring to his opponent, and the state is thereby brought to ruin ...
It is a matter of common knowledge that Florence is the nursery of
ingenious spirits. How much the Florentines differ from, say, the Swiss
in this respect. Nevertheless though both peoples substituted a popular
state for a monarchical form of government about three hundred and sixty
years ago, while the Swiss have preserved their popular institutions...
the Florentines have never ceased to change and change again, behaving
like the sick man who keeps on moving from one place to another,
thinking thus to cure the illness which is attacking his very life. In
the same way the malady of ambition and sedition never ceased to afflict
Florence until a physician was found to cure her of all her ills. A
monarch succeeded who built fortresses in the city, garrisoned them
strongly, and by such methods maintained a government which has lasted
for forty years now.[4] ...

Aristocratic states are more stable and longer lived than popular ones,
provided that the ruling class avoid the two dangers of faction within
their own ranks, and attack from a rebellious populace outside them. If
they once start to dispute amongst themselves, the people will never
fail to seize the opportunity to fall upon them, as the history of
Florence shows only too well. This danger is intensified when foreigners
are freely admitted into the city and settle in large numbers. Not being
qualified for office, when they are heavily taxed or oppressed in any
way by the governing body, their ready remedy is to rise and expel the
native rulers ... This is the danger which most threatens the state of
Venice. It is a pure aristocracy. But it has admitted foreigners in such
numbers that by now for every Venetian gentleman there are a hundred
citizens, both nobles and burgesses, of foreign extraction. ...

The change from aristocracy to popular state has nearly always been
bloody and violent. On the other hand the reverse process of change from
popular state to aristocracy nearly always comes about gradually and
peacefully. This happens when a city admits foreign settlers who in
course of time considerably increase in numbers, but who remain
ineligible for office or political rights. The strain of government and
of war brings about a gradual diminution in the ruling class, whereas
the number of aliens steadily increases. A point is reached when it is
only a minority of the inhabitants who enjoy rights of sovereignty, and
this, we have shown, is the distinguishing mark of an aristocracy. The
commonwealths of Venice, Lucca, Ragusa, and Genoa were all once popular
states which have gradually and insensibly been converted into
aristocracies. The change was further facilitated, of course, by the
reluctance of the poorer citizens, who needed all their time and energy
to make a living, to accept public duties to which no profit was
attached. In course of time, and by prescription, their families have
lost the right to such offices altogether. 

This type of revolution is the easiest and least insupportable of any.
But if one wishes to prevent it happening, the children of immigrants
must be admitted to public charges and offices, unless there are very
urgent reasons why not, especially if the commonwealth is much involved
in wars abroad. Otherwise there is the danger that the ruling class, not
daring to arm its subjects, will be destroyed by defeat in battle,
whereupon the people will seize power ... The thing that most assisted
the victory of the Roman people over the nobles was the defeat of the
latter by the men of Viei, for the greater part of the gentry were
killed, including three hundred members of the most ancient and noble
family of the Fabii. The Venetians solve this problem by employing
foreign mercenaries as a general rule, if they have to make war, though
they avoid doing so whenever possible.

This danger of a revolution in the form of the state, following the
destruction of the nobles, does not afflict monarchies, except in the
extreme case of all Princes of the Blood perishing with the nobles. The
Turks have seen to it that no single gentleman escaped in any province
which they intended to annex. But this sort of change is rather the
absorption of one state by another than a revolution in government, and
proceeds from external and not internal causes. But practically the
entire noblesse of France was killed in the battle of Fontenoy near
Auxerre, in the war between Lothar, son of Louis the Pious, and his
brothers Louis and Charles the Bald. Nevertheless all three monarchies
survived as such. ...

Great and notable revolutions are most likely to befall aristocracies
and popular states. There is no more common occasion than the ambition
of proud men, who cannot obtain the rewards on which they have fixed
their desires, and so constitute themselves the friends of the people
and enemies of the noblesse. Thus did Marius in Rome, Thrasibulus in
Athens, Francesco Valori[5] in Florence, and many others. This is all
the easier to accomplish when unworthy persons are preferred to
positions of honour and trust, and those who are worthy of them
excluded. This angers men of birth and position more than anything else.
What most contributed to the ruin of the Emperors Nero and Heliogabalus
was the promotion of despicable persons to the highest honours. But this
danger is greatest in an aristocracy governed aristocratically, that is
to say where the generality of people have no share in office. It is a
two-fold grievance to find not only that one is excluded from all
offices and benefices, but that these are monopolized by unworthy
persons to whom one must submit and do reverence. In such a case those
patricians who can organize a following, can change an aristocracy which
has no foundations in popular support, into a popular state. This cannot
happen if the ruling class preserves its solidarity. Divisions and
antagonisms within the ruling class is the danger most to be feared in
the aristocratic state. ...

Revolutions tend to occur more frequently in small commonwealths than in
those which are large and populous. A small commonwealth easily falls
into two hostile camps. It is not so easy for such a division to appear
in a large one, for there are always a number of people who are neither
great nor humble, rich nor poor, good nor evil who form links between
the extremes, because they have affinities with each. We find that the
small republics of Italy and ancient Greece, consisting of one, two or
three cities only, suffered many and diverse changes of form. There can
be no question but that extremes always lead to conflicts if there is no
means of uniting or reconciling them one with another. One can see at a
glance the jealousy which divides noble and tradesman, the rich man and
the poor man, the virtuous and the vicious. But more than this, one
sometimes finds that the conflicting interests of different localities
in the same city bring about a revolution... We read in Plutarch that
the Republic of Athens was harassed by seditions and disorders because
the sailors who inhabited the port were separated from those who lived
near the Acropolis, and extremely hostile to them till Pericles included
the port within his long walls. Venice was at one time in extreme danger
from a similar conflict between the sailors and pilots on the one hand,
and inhabitants of the city on the other, and but for the intervention
of Pietro Loredano[6] would have suffered a violent revolution.

Internal seditions often bring about external disasters, for a
neighbouring prince very frequently falls upon an adjacent state in the
hour of its defeat, as did the Normans after the battle of Fontenoy when
the noblesse of France was practically exterminated ... External
disasters attendant on internal disorders are all the more to be feared
if one's nearest neighbours are not friends and allies. Proximity whets
the appetite for securing that which belongs to another, before he can
prevent it. There is nothing surprising in this. When one considers that
neither seas, mountains, nor uninhabitable deserts are sufficient
barriers against the ambition and avarice of princes, how can one expect
them to be content with what they possess, and refrain from encroaching
on their neighbours, when their frontiers coincide, and opportunity
offers?

Such a fate is much more likely to befall small republics such as
Ragusa, Geneva, or Lucca, which consist of a single city and a very
small dependent territory. Who conquers the city conquers the state.
This cannot happen to great or powerful commonwealths which have many
provinces, and many local centres of government. If one is occupied, the
others can come to its assistance, as several members of a powerful body
who can aid one another at need. Moreover monarchies have this advantage
over aristocracies and popular states, that there is no one centre of
sovereignty which is the stronghold of the ruling class, so that if it
is destroyed the state perishes. A king can remove his capital from
place to place. Even if he is himself captured, the ruin of the state
does not necessarily follow. When the city of Capua was taken by the
Romans the whole state perished, and no other city or fortress offered
the least resistance, for the sovereign, senate, and people had all been
made captive. Again when the Duke of Florence took the city of Siena all
its subjects, cities, and fortresses surrendered forthwith. But should a
king be made captive, he is often released again for the price of his
ransom. Even if the enemy will not be content with that, the estates can
always proceed to another election, or enthrone the next in blood if
there are other princes. A captive king will sometimes rather lose his
throne or die a prisoner than afflict his subjects. The Emperor Charles
V was extremely embarrassed by the resolution of Francis I in letting it
be known that he would resign the crown to his eldest son were his terms
not accepted. For the kingdom and the government had survived intact
without suffering revolution or alteration whatsoever as a result of the
crisis. Although Spain, Italy, England, the Low Countries, the Pope, the
Venetians, and all the Italian estates, were allied against the French
house, none dared enter France to conquer her, knowing the strength
other institutions and the nature of the monarchy.[7] As a strong
building raised on sure foundations, constructed of durable materials
and knit together in all its parts need not fear storms and tempests,
nor violent assaults, so the commonwealth based on good laws and united
together in all its parts does not easily fall a prey to revolution.
There are however some so ill-founded and ill-united that the slightest
wind destroys them. There is nevertheless no commonwealth which does not
suffer transformation with the passage of time, and come to ruin
eventually. But the transformation that is accomplished slowly is the
most tolerable. ...

That Changes of Government and Changes in Law should not be Sudden
[CHAPTER III][8]

... THE first condition that must be observed for the preservation of
any commonwealth is that its specific type and the weaknesses to which
it is prone, should be thoroughly understood. For this reason I pause
here to consider such matters. It is not sufficient to have ideas as to
which is the best type of commonwealth. One must also understand the
means whereby each is preserved in its proper form, supposing it is not
possible to modify it, or supposing any attempt to do so would threaten
it with ruin. It is better to keep a sick man going by suitable diet
than attempt to cure him of a malignant disease at the risk of his life.
Violent remedies should never be employed unless the illness is
critical, and no other expedients offer any hope. The same principles
hold good in the commonwealth, not only regarding changes in the
constitution, but also regarding changes in laws, manners, and customs.
Lack of understanding of this principle has brought great and
flourishing commonwealths to ruin, when the adoption of some admirable
custom, borrowed from another state quite different in character, has
been attempted. We have already shown that certain good laws which tend
to the preservation of a monarchy would be the ruin of a popular state,
while certain other laws which preserve the liberty of the people would
bring about the downfall of a monarchy.

It is true that there are a number of rules which apply indifferently to
all types of commonwealth. But the old problem, so often debated by
political philosophers, still remains unresolved. Is the introduction of
some new custom, which is an improvement on the old, to be encouraged,
in view of the fact that no law, however good, has any force if it is
not respected? But novelty always brings the law into disrepute. The
binding force of habit is so strong that it secures obedience to the
laws without the intervention of any magistrate, whereas new laws, even
when backed up by the authority of the magistrate, and reinforced with
pains and penalties, are established only with difficulty. It could
therefore be argued that the benefit of a new law, however good, is
outweighed by the fact that the whole general force of law is weakened
once one begins to make changes. In short, there is nothing more
difficult to undertake, more doubtful of success, or more dangerous in
the attempt, than the introduction of new laws.

This argument seems to me to have considerable force. I would add
another consideration which also seems to me of great weight. I think it
extremely dangerous to make any change in the law touching the
constitution. The amendment of laws and customs touching inheritances,
contracts, or servitudes is on the whole permissible. But to touch the
laws of the constitution is as dangerous as to undermine the
foundations, or remove the comer-stone on which the whole weight of the
building rests. Disturbed in this way, apart from the risk of collapse,
a building often receives more damage than the advantage of new material
is worth, especially if it is old and decaying. The same is true of an
old-established commonwealth. The slightest disturbance of its
foundations spells ruin. Therefore the ancient maxim of wise statesmen,
that one should not tamper with the constitution of any commonwealth
which has long maintained itself in good order for any advantage that
can be imagined, should be weighed carefully. ...

If anyone objects that changes in the law are often necessary,
especially in matters concerning the policing of a country, I agree that
such necessity is prior to all rules about wisdom in legislation. But it
is always dangerous to introduce laws and edicts which are a matter of
choice, however good and profitable they may be, especially if they
relate to the constitution. Not that I wish a commonwealth to cling to
laws which no longer conduce to its preservation. One must always bear
in mind the principle to which there is no exception, salus populi
suprema lex esto. Thus Themistocles persuaded the Athenians to fortify
the city with walls and fortresses, the better to defend it and secure
their own safety. But Theremanes, for exactly the same reason, persuaded
them to dismantle them, for otherwise the total rum of the people and of
the commonwealth would have been certain. There are no laws, however
excellent, which do not sooner or later change their value, and when
necessity requires, they should be altered, but not before. Therefore
when Solon published his laws, he made the people swear to keep them for
the next hundred years, so Plutarch says. In doing this he showed that
he did not wish that the laws should be regarded as unalterable, but
that they should not be abandoned in any haste. ...

Even when the law is patently unjust, it is better to let it lapse
gradually than to make any sudden change... Again, the nature of men is
extraordinarily corruptible, and they continually descend from good to
bad, and from bad to worse. Their vices slowly establish a hold on them,
like the ill humours which gradually invade the body till they entirely
possess it. It is therefore necessary at times to make new laws to deal
with the situation, but it should always be done very gradually... The
ordering of the commonwealth should be modelled on the ordering of the
universe. God, the first cause, accomplishes all things gradually and
almost insensibly. During the lifetime of the Doge Agostino
Barbarino,[9] the Venetians did nothing to curtail his authority because
of the disturbance it might cause. But after his death, and before
proceeding to the election of Loredano, the Signory published new laws
which drastically limited the powers of the Doge. We have shown how a
similar policy was adopted at the election of the Emperors of Germany.
From sovereign kings they were reduced step by step to the position of
mere captains in chief. To make the change more palatable, they were
left in possession of all the marks of imperial splendour in the
vestments they wore, the style in which they were addressed, and in the
ceremonies which surrounded them, but of very little else. Just as it is
perilous to deprive a sovereign ruler suddenly of his authority, or a
prince who has an armed force at his disposal, so it is no less
dangerous for a prince to dismiss or rebuff abruptly the former officers
of his predecessor, or suddenly to deprive a whole body of officials
while retaining others. Those who are retained are suspected of jealous
intrigues and those who are dismissed, of incompetence or dishonesty,
besides being deprived of the charges which they have often enough
bought dear. Perhaps one of the surest foundations of the French
monarchy is that the officers of the crown retain their posts on the
death of the king, and so are able to preserve the commonwealth intact.
...

This is not a danger which threatens popular or aristocratic states,
since with them the sovereign never dies. But the risk is just as great
when they have to appoint new high officers of state, or captains in
chief; or when they have to initiate some law which is disagreeable to
the people, because it favours the nobles and burdens the humbler
citizens, or because there is a shortage of provisions, or because
prices are too high. Such occasions always breed popular agitations and
seditions.

Generally, when it is necessary to deprive magistrates, suppress guilds
and colleges, cancel privileges, cut down salaries and benefices,
increase penalties; or to restore the ancient usages in either politics
or religion when they have deteriorated through the natural human
propensity to corruption, there is no better way of achieving success
than by gradual means. The use of force, such as is necessary if
institutions are to be suppressed, is to be avoided wherever possible.
We have a notable warning in the case of Charles V of France. When
regent, he was misled by evil counsel into suspending or dismissing
suddenly the majority of the officers of the realm, and replacing them
by commissioners. France was immediately shaken by disorders from end to
end, from the number of the malcontents[10] ... But when the Signory of
Basel established the Reformed Church, it did not wish to expel
immediately and forcibly all the inmates of abbeys and monasteries. It
merely ordained that as they died no successors should take their place,
whereby it happened that a single Carthusian continued to inhabit his
convent for a great time all alone, all his fellow monks having
voluntarily left. He was nevertheless never compelled to leave the
place, nor abandon his habit or his profession. ...

I hold that the great increase in officials, in guilds, in privileged
persons, or of evil-doers which has come about through the negligence of
princes and magistrates ought to be checked in this way. The same
principle holds good for all matters touching subjects as a whole, for
it is rooted in the very nature of law, for law only really begins to
take effect after some considerable passage of time.

Even in the case of tyranny, which is a thing cruel and detestable in
itself, it is better if the tyrant has neither children nor near
relatives, to defer bringing an end to the tyranny till after his death,
rather than to use violent measures against the tyrant himself, and so
expose the state to the risk of the ruin which so often befalls on such
occasions. Only if the tyrant has heirs, and is employing himself, as is
almost universal custom, in killing off all the people of any importance
one by one, and in getting rid of any magistrates who might check him in
his courses, in order to establish his own sole and unchallengeable
authority, is it permissible to have recourse to violent measures, in
accordance with the principles we laid down at the start; otherwise not.
In governing a well-ordered state therefore one should follow the
example of the workings of nature, by which all things are accomplished
slowly, one step at a time. God causes a tall and spreading tree to
spring from one small seed, but always by imperceptible degrees. He
unites extremes by their mean, putting spring between winter and summer,
and autumn between summer and winter, ordering all things according to
His perfect wisdom And if it is dangerous to change laws easily, let us
consider whether it is dangerous to change the officers of state at
intervals, or whether they ought to be appointed permanently.

Whether the Tenure of Office in the Commonwealth should he Permanent
[CHAPTER IV]

THEM is perhaps nothing that is more immediately a cause of revolutions
in commonwealths than troubles arising out of the terms of office of the
magistrates, either because they are too frequently changed, or because
too indefinitely prolonged. The matter ought not therefore to be passed
over without discussion, since it is a question of great political
importance and worthy of careful investigation. I shall not attempt
however to determine what should be done. I only intend to suggest those
considerations that can persuade one way or the other, and leave the
decision to those who have gone more deeply into the question. I do not
do this however to encourage those who wish to introduce changes into
those already established practices which all subjects ought to treat
with great respect. Nor have I any desire to alter the forms of
government which have developed in the course of many years. ...

It is to be noticed that even the wisest of those who have gone about to
establish or perpetuate commonwealths, families, or other kinds of
associations of men, have been liable to fall into two sorts of excess.
The one is to be able to see the disadvantages only of any particular
institution, without being able to weigh them against any corresponding
advantages. The other is the tendency to rush from one disastrous
extreme to the other, without being able to adopt any middle position,
as it were to escape drowning only to perish by fire. Plato desired
magistrates to be irremovable, that was one extreme. Aristotle, his
pupil, avoided that error, saying it would light the fires of sedition
in any commonwealth, but only to fall into the other extreme. Neither of
them made any distinction between one commonwealth and another, yet this
is fundamental to any resolution of the problem. ...

It is however obvious that commonwealths of a contrary tendency must be
regulated in contrary ways. The institutions proper to the maintenance
of popular states are the death of monarchies. Popular states are
maintained by a continual replacement of officers, in order that each
and all shall have that share in office proper to his station, since
some share in sovereign power is due to all. Equality, the nurse of
popular states, is best secured by annual succession in all
magistracies, for the practice of long terms of authority is an
encouragement to the ambitious to attempt to seize sovereign power for
themselves. But in monarchies, when the subjects have no part in
sovereignty, they should not be encouraged to entertain political
ambitions; their whole duty consists in learning to obey their prince.
This is especially the case in despotic and tyrannical monarchies. There
the subjects are either the natural slaves of the despot, or the
enforced slaves of the tyrant, and therefore neither the despot nor the
tyrant can hope to hold his own if he gives authority to all his
subjects successively.

For this reason tyrants, who no less fear and hate their subjects than
they are feared and hated by them, and so can place no reliance on them,
entrust the care of their persons, their position, their forces, and
their goods to foreigners and those very few among their subjects whom
they know to be true and faithful to them. These they keep in the same
positions indefinitely, not only because they mistrust all others, but
also because they do not wish to give any other persons such a taste of
the sweets of power as to move them to consider ridding themselves of
the tyrant, either from a desire to occupy his place, or to gain
popularity.

The despot is obeyed rather more willingly by his subjects in that they
are his natural, not his enforced slaves. He has therefore a freer hand
in the choice of his officers than the tyrant, who is only obeyed
through force and fear. He does not tend therefore to give offices in
perpetuity, but at his own discretion, and for as long as he pleases, to
such number of people as he thinks fit, without being subject to any
rules or customs in the matter.

The king, who is to his subjects what a good father is to his children,
though he is no more bound by positive laws than are the other two kinds
of monarch, nevertheless does in fact lay down general rules governing
the appointment and dismissal of officials with the intention of keeping
them. Honours and offices will be distributed not to all indifferently,
but to those who merit them. Experience and virtue will be more regarded
than the influence of those who are most recommended. He will observe
the golden mean in all things, some offices being perpetual, some
terminable at the end of three years, others at the end of one,
especially the chief members of the parlements, those responsible for
finance, and governors of provinces. Otherwise these exalted persons
could never be punished for misdemeanours or abuse of power. Offices and
honours will be given to the rich and those of noble birth, even though
they may not be as well-informed as less wealthy citizens, because it is
a necessary precaution against sedition. But it will always be arranged
that those exalted persons who are not really capable of discharging
their functions properly shall have men well-versed in the business as
their associates, to cover and remedy their defects. But should
necessity arise the king is not bound to observe his own laws in the
matter. He can deprive men of offices which by law are perpetual, should
he judge that those who have been appointed are incapable in either mind
or body of the office they hold; or to save the face of those who have
proved incapable, he can give them some favourable opportunity of
resigning their position, as Augustus did in the case of a number of
senators who were induced to resign in this way without public action
being taken; or he can at least appoint commissioners to execute the
functions of any office, while leaving the holder with the title and the
privileges.

In the interests of justice however always the principal foundation of
any commonwealth, the king will provide that both criminal and civil
jurisdiction shall be committed to colleges of judges in perpetuity,
even for cases where there is no appeal. In this way he will secure
judges skilled in their profession, partly from long experience in
hearing cases, partly from constantly having to listen to the opinions
of their colleagues. At the same time their numbers make them
individually not very powerful, and therefore less able to abuse their
trust, and more difficult to corrupt. It is not easy to contaminate a
great volume of water. It often happens that a good and upright judge
can carry a whole Bench with him, either by detecting the partiality and
secret manoeuvres of dishonest judges, or, where they are honest but led
astray by false witnesses and legal chicanery, by putting them wise to
such practices. I have seen a single judge cause a whole Bench to change
its mind and set free an innocent woman, cleared of all suspicion, whom
the rest had decided to condemn to death as guilty. His name deserves to
be recorded. It was the councillor Potier, lord of Blanc-Mesnil. ...

I have said that a king will neither make all office perpetual, nor all
office temporary. There is no need to make such subordinates as clerks
of the court, constables, ushers, notaries, and such like officers
temporary. They have no independent authority and so can do no harm to
the state, while the efficiency necessary to the proper discharge of
their functions is the result of long practice in them. This is only
possible if their appointments are permanent. The same may be said of
subordinate magistrates whose sentences are subject to revision by their
superiors. But if, in the case of sovereign magistrates, whether
concerned with war, justice, or finance, the king only appoints them for
the term of one, two, or three years, he has opportunities of examining
their actions, and doing justice upon them. Incidentally, the dread of
an enquiry keeps dishonest magistrates in check. But sudden and complete
change is dangerous, and in order to avoid replacing all the officers of
the realm at the same time, to the interrupting of public business, it
is best that colleges of magistrates should be renewed by succession of
persons, one at a time. This is done in the Republic of Ragusa, where
the Senate is perpetual, but the senators, who form the sovereign
judicial body, only hold office for one year at a time, but do not all
go out of office together, but successively, so that the change is
hardly noticeable. After a certain period they may serve again. ...

Such measures obviate the difficulties which arise with the interruption
of public business caused by a simultaneous change of all the chief
officers of state, and avoid the danger of the commonwealth being left
without magistrates, like a ship without a pilot. This sort of thing
frequently occurred in Rome, through the intrigues of magistrates who
thwarted one another, and all came into office and went out at the same
time. These arrangements also remove all fear that those who attain to
the highest positions of trust in the state by bribery and by favour
will remain inaccessible to punishment, or that ignorant men will
continuously monopolize power, for after a short interval those who have
already held office, and acquired experience, can be reappointed. ...

Yet ill-advised princes repeatedly abandon a good custom because of some
defect they find in it. I need only give the one example of Louis XI.
When he came to the throne, he immediately dismissed all the former
servants of his father. They managed things in such a fashion thereafter
as to bring him almost to the point of resigning or losing his crown, as
he afterwards confessed. Fearing that his son would fall into the same
error, he charged him never to deprive those whom he himself had
advanced. Not content with this, he promulgated an ordinance making all
office perpetual; once appointed, the holders could not be deprived
except as a result of resignation, death, or forfeiture. ...

What we have said about the moderation which ought to be observed in the
rules governing the appointment of magistrates, and the prolongation of
their charges, applies not only to monarchies, but to aristocracies and
popular states. In such states practically all offices are held for the
term of one, two, or three years, as one may see in the Swiss and other
republics. Nevertheless it is necessary for their conservation that
there should be some permanent bodies, especially for the discharge of
those matters which require wisdom and experience, for instance, giving
counsel. We find therefore that in Rome, Athens, and Sparta the senate
was perpetual, and senators continued in office as long as they wished
to serve. Thus the senate of Athens and the other republics resembled
the hinges and pivots on which great weights revolve. It was fixed and
stable, and all the movable offices, and the whole state of republic
rested on it. The opposite is the case with monarchies. There
practically all offices are perpetual, save a few of the principal and
most responsible ones. The Spanish monarchy has best understood how to
keep the middle way proper to monarchical states. For the same reason
the Venetians whose republic is an aristocracy, make all their
appointments for one year only, and some for only two months. But the
Doge, the Procurators of St. Mark, the Chancellor, and the Secretaries
of State are permanent officials. The Florentines adopted the same
expedient. After Louis XII had freed them from the tyrannical designs of
the Count Valentino they too set up a permanent chief magistrate, so
that the Republic, perpetually subject to rapid changes in all offices
and magistracies, should have some stable foundation on which to
rely.[11] But the ordinances being shortly after annulled, they fell
into civil strife more immediately than they had ever done before. If
they had had at least a perpetual senate, and the senators had remained
in office instead of being replaced every six months, and if they could
have found some mean between the extremes of universal change and
universal permanence in all offices, their government would have been
secure instead of being disturbed by continual conspiracies and civil
commotions.

Whether the Prince should render justice to his Subjects in Person[12]
[CHAPTER VI][13]

SOME readers may think that this is a question about which no discussion
is necessary, seeing that all the ancients, and all discriminating
students of politics are agreed that kings were first established for no
other reason that to do justice, as Herodotus shows of the Medes and
Cicero of the Romans ... The chief consideration that should move
princes to do justice is the mutual bond between them and their
subjects, whereby the subject owes obedience and assistance to his lord,
and the prince owes justice, care, and protection to his subject. He
does not discharge this obligation by appointing a representative to act
in his name. For just as the subject is bound to swear allegiance in
person, and to render homage and service himself, so there is a
reciprocal obligation on the prince. Indeed, it is not so serious if the
vassal swears allegiance and homage by proxy as if the prince does
justice only through his officers. The obedience due from the subject is
not thereby called in question. But the subject on his side has no
guarantee that the prince's officers will not be corrupt. The prince is
responsible before God, and the obligation on his conscience to see that
justice is done is not discharged by his mere instruction to judges to
see to it.

Moreover it is of the greatest importance for the preservation of the
commonwealth that whoever exercises sovereign power should himself
dispense justice. Union and mutual amity between a prince and his
subjects is best fostered by mutual intercourse. This advantage is lost
if the prince acts only through his officers. Subjects always imagine
themselves despised and neglected by officials, a suspicion more serious
in its results than if they experience actual injustice at the prince's
hands, for contempt is harder to endure than a straightforward injury.
But when subjects see their prince giving judgement in person, they are
by this mere fact already half satisfied, even though he does not
thereupon grant their requests. They reflect that at any rate the king
has attended to their petition, heard their complaints, and taken pains
to judge the matter. It is extraordinary how uplifted and delighted
subjects are to be seen, heard, and attended to by a prince even of very
modest virtues, or of some mild degree of amiability. Moreover nothing
gives greater authority to magistrates and subordinate officials, or
excites more fear, and reverence for justice, than the sight of the king
enthroned for judgement... In fine, it cannot be doubted that the prince
in doing justice constantly upon his subjects accustoms himself to be in
his own person just, upright, and true. Seeing that this is the greatest
boon that can fall to the lot of any commonwealth, should not one desire
constantly and ardently that the prince should be ceaselessly employed
in giving judgement? The true function of the prince is to judge his
people. He must of course also be armed against the enemy, but justice
is his necessary attribute in all places, and at all times.

But the example of wise princes is of more weight than reasons and
arguments. Was there ever a prince the equal of Solomon for wisdom? We
read that his sole prayer to God was for wisdom so that he might judge
his people aright, and his judgements were reported throughout the
world, to the wonder and edification of all peoples. Who was ever the
equal of the great Augustus for political prudence? We read of him that
he was incessantly employed in giving judgement? He would not let even
illness prevent him from being carried into the court. Such was the
ordinary and daily function of the Roman Emperors and they won thereby a
reputation for justice above all other princes of the world. ...

Nevertheless I do not think these arguments are of sufficient weight to
settle the question and prove conclusively that the prince should
dispense justice in person. It is true this would be expedient and even
necessary if princes were, as Scylax said of those in the Indies, as
superior to their subjects as God is high above mankind. There is
nothing finer or more royal than the spectacle of a prince performing
exploits of virtue in the presence of his people, and out of his own
mouth rebuking and condemning wicked men, praising and rewarding the
good, publicly taking counsel of the wise, and engaging in weighty
debate. Only a man who is himself upright esteems virtuous company and
hates evil men, and only a prince who is himself just and true can
dispense impartial justice.

But should we agree that vicious princes ought also to live in the
public eye, and thereby communicate their vices to their subjects?

The least vice in a prince defaces his fair image, and cannot but have
the effect of attracting, persuading, or even compelling his subjects to
evil. It is the most natural thing in the world for subjects to model
themselves on the manners, the behaviour, and the conversation of their
prince. No gesture, action, or expression of his escapes the notice of
those who observe him with the closest attention with a view to
imitation ... We have seen how, when Francis I, King of France, and
Mansur called the Great, Emperor of Africa and Spain, each in their
several times and places began to patronize learning, immediately the
princes, the nobles, the clergy, and common people devoted themselves
with such ardour to the sciences, that never was such a concourse of men
learned in all languages and sciences seen as in their time. Since
princes then are a model to their subjects, let them be as perfect as in
them lies, and if they fall short in this respect, let them not make
public appearances.

It may be objected that this is not a good enough reason why a prince
should live retired, and not appear to judge and communicate directly
with his people, since they have the wits, which they should employ, to
judge of his actions, and follow the good and eschew the evil. But I
would answer that it is much easier to imitate vice than virtue, for men
are naturally inclined more to evil than good, and whereas there is only
one straight and narrow way that leads to virtue, there are a hundred
thousand side paths that lead to vice ... Such power has a faulty prince
of transforming and turning the hearts of his subjects according to his
own good pleasure. He has even greater power of turning them to folly. I
can give another example from the conduct of King Francis. He once
shaved his scalp in order to assist his recovery from a wound in the
head. Immediately first his court, and then everyone else shaved too, so
that from that time long hair which was once a mark of beauty and
privilege of nobility became an object of ridicule. ...

Suppose however we grant that the prince is neither inept, ridiculous or
vicious, but virtuous and well-conducted, the fact remains that daily
communication and a too great familiarity with his subjects engenders a
certain contempt for the sovereign. Contempt of him leads to
disobedience to his commands and his laws, and disobedience spells the
ruin of the state. On the other hand, if the prince makes a habit of
appearing in public, but always in great state and in the guise of a
severe and terrible judge, it is true that he may inspire his subjects
with respect, but he will also run the risk of losing their love. Love
of the subject for his sovereign is much more conducive to the
preservation of the state than fear, for love always has an element of
fear in it, the fear of offending the object of one's love. But fear by
itself can be, and mostly is, devoid of any admixture of love. Almighty
God, the ruler of the whole world, made manifest what relations earthly
princes, who are his true images, ought to have with their subjects. For
God only communicated with men in dreams and visions, or through the
very small body of the elect, and the greatest saints. When He declared
the decalogue in His own voice, divine fire filled the heavens, and
thunder like the terrible sound of trumpets shook the mountains, so that
the people threw themselves upon their faces, praying Him to cease
speaking lest they should die. It is written that He caused them to hear
His voice that they might for ever after tremble to offend Him.
Nevertheless He moved them to love Him by blessing them with manifold
and great favours and bounties. The wise prince who imitates in the
management of his subjects the wisdom of God in governing the world will
show himself little to his subjects, and then in solemn state as befits
his high authority. He should moreover choose men of great worth, such
as are not easily found, to make known his will. For the rest, he should
constantly bestow his graces and favours on all his subjects. ...

But granted that the prince has wisdom, understanding, prudence,
discretion, experience, patience, and all the virtues, it is still of
doubtful advantage for him to judge his subjects in person. The best
means of preserving the authority of the monarchy is that the prince
should be loved by all, without any alloy of contempt, and as far as
possible hated by none. To achieve this two things are necessary. First,
just punishments must be meted out to malefactors, and rewards to the
worthy. But seeing that whereas the latter is a pleasing task, and the
former is invidious, the prince who wishes to command the affection of
his subjects should reserve to himself the distribution of rewards,
whether estates, honours, offices, benefices, pensions, privileges and
concessions, grants of immunity, exemptions, and restitutions, and all
such graces and favours. Any prudent prince should bestow such himself.
But for condemnations, fines, confiscations, and all like penalties, let
him delegate their infliction to his officers, for them to administer
good and expeditious justice. If he manages his affairs in this way,
those who have received benefits at his hands are constrained to love,
respect, and honour their benefactor; those who have been punished will
have no occasion to hate him, but will vent their anger on their judges.
The prince, showering benefits on all, but injuries on none will be
welcome to all and hated of none. Nature has provided us with a model in
the king of the bees, who has no sting ... I myself think that one of
the admirable secrets of the long success of this monarchy is the wise
practice of our kings, since earliest times, of themselves distributing
graces and favours, while delegating the duty of punishment, without
respect of persons, to their officers. ...

What I have said about the inadvisability of the prince assuming the
role of judge has even more force in popular states, because of the
great difficulty of assembling the people, of making them listen to
reason when they are assembled, and having listened, to pass sound
judgement. Such difficulties were the greatest single cause of civil
wars among the Romans until the dictator Sulla vested the cognizance of
all causes, save treason in the first degree, in the magistrates.
Moreover the denial of the exercise of their ordinary and legitimate
powers to the senate and the magistrates, in order to attribute them to
those in whom sovereign power is vested, has been a most frequent cause
of the ruin of commonwealths. The true attributes of sovereignty apart,
the more powers a sovereign has, the less secure he is... Perhaps the
thing that has most conduced to the preservation of the Venetian state
is that there has never been a republic in which those in whom sovereign
power was vested interfered less with the business of the council and
the magistrates. The Great Council hardly concerned itself with anything
save the appointment of magistrates, the issue of general ordinances,
and the granting of graces, which are, of course, the principal
attributes of sovereignty. All other affairs of state were attended to
by the Senate, or the Council of Ten, and the administration of justice
by the magistrates.

If this is well-ordered and praiseworthy in an aristocracy, it is even
more desirable in a popular state, for the more heads, the less counsel,
and the less resolution ... We read that the Roman Republic was never
more flourishing than at the time when the people did not concern
themselves with any exercise of power save their rights of sovereignty.
This was the period from the first Punic war till the conquest of the
kingdom of Macedon. But once the Tribune Caius Gracchus curtailed the
powers of the Senate and the magistrates in order to make the people
cognizant of matters of all sorts, nothing but seditions, assassinations
and civil wars followed, till this outrageous licence of the people was
exchanged for an extreme servitude. ...

A state cannot fail to prosper where the sovereign retains those rights
proper to his majesty, the senate preserves its authority, the
magistrates exercise their legitimate powers, and justice runs its
ordinary course. Otherwise, if those who have sovereign power attempt to
invade the sphere of the senate or the magistrate, they only risk the
loss of their own authority. They are much mistaken who think to exalt
the sovereign by making him aware of his claws, and impress on him that
his will, his very glance, has the force of an edict or a judgement, so
that none of his subjects can take cognizance of any matter which may
not be revised or reversed by him. This engenders an insupportable
arrogance and tyranny in the prince. ...

How Seditions may be Avoided [CHAPTER VII]

...WE put first as a general maxim that factions and parties are
dangerous, and threaten the well-being, of all kinds of commonwealths.
They must therefore be prevented wherever possible by wise counsel, and
if only discovered after they have been set on foot, every means should
be taken to cure them, or at the worst, nothing should be omitted which
is likely to mitigate the evil. I would not deny that factions and
seditions bring in their train great benefits, such as some wise law, or
beneficial reform, which would hardly have come about without agitation.
But this does not disprove the fact that sedition is in itself
dangerous, for its good results are purely fortuitous and accidental...
Seditions often lead to the death or banishment of evil men, which
allows the rest to live thereafter in peace. Or unjust laws and
ordinances may be abolished, and replaced by just ones which otherwise
would not have been accepted ... But just as diseases are pernicious to
the body, so conspiracy and conjuration is pernicious to the
commonwealth. 

Someone may say that factions are necessary to the preservation of
tyrants, since they are inevitably the enemies of their subjects, and
could not long maintain themselves in the face of a united people. We
have already shown that tyranny is the weakest of all forms of the
commonwealth, since it is upheld by cruel and wicked deeds. Nevertheless
tyrannies are generally brought to an end by sedition or civil war. Even
the most ingenious of tyrants, who have committed their murders one at a
time, growing fat on the life-blood of their subjects, and preserved
their own miserable lives, though dragged out in terror and despair,
have not escaped the knife of the conspirator. The more subjects they
put to death, the more are conspiracies against them nourished by the
avengers of murdered kindred. Even should whole families be
exterminated, in the end all good men and true rise against them ...
Therefore the Florentines were mistaken in thinking that their authority
in Pistoia was the better secured by nourishing factions among its
inhabitants. They only lost influence by the death of good citizens
destroyed in civil strife.[14] 

But if factions and seditions are dangerous to monarchies, they are even
more so to popular states and to aristocracies. Monarchs can preserve
their authority, either by impartially composing quarrels, or in
alliance with one of the parties by bringing the other to reason, or by
destroying it altogether. But if the people in a popular state are
divided, there is no sovereign to appeal to, any more than there is when
the governing class in an aristocracy splits up into cliques. ...

If it is obvious that the opposing factions cannot be dealt with by
process of law, the sovereign ought to resort to force to extinguish
them altogether, by the punishment of the manifest leaders before they
have become so strong that there is no prevailing against them ... The
punishment of a few may then induce the rest to remember their
allegiance, and discourage those who have not yet openly joined in. The
prince should avoid however mass executions, or the torturing of
suspects. ...

In the case of factions and conjurations which are not directed against
the prince personally, nor against his government, but divide the
nobles, or the towns, or the provinces subject to him from each other,
he ought by all means in his power to stop them developing. He should
not omit the smallest precaution. Great storms and tempests are bred
from almost imperceptible mists and vapours, and civil wars can
originate in the most trivial circumstances. ...

Just as it is easier to prevent an invasion than to expel the enemy once
he has effected an entry, so it is better to prevent sedition than to
try and cure it. This is even more difficult in a popular state than in
any other. The prince in a monarchy, and the governing class in an
aristocracy are, and ought to be, the sovereign judges and arbiters of
the quarrels of their subjects. Often enough their absolute authority is
sufficient to put an end to conflicts. But in a popular state
sovereignty is vested in the very people who are divided, and the
magistrates are nothing more than their subjects.

There is need then for wise statesmen to come to terms with the people
in such a case, and to humour them in order to bring them to reason. The
lunatic who cannot stop dancing and singing incessantly cannot be calmed
unless the musician first attunes his violin to the patient's mood, and
then gradually modifies the rhythm till he has cured him. So the prudent
magistrate, faced with an excited people, at first gives way to their
temper in order to be able to bring them to reason by gradual means. To
resist an exasperated multitude is no more possible than to oppose
oneself to a torrent dashing down from some great height. It is even
more dangerous to resort to force against one's subjects, unless one is
absolutely certain of victory. If the subject is victor, he will most
certainly displace the vanquished. Even if the prince is not vanquished,
but merely fails of his objective, he renders himself contemptible, and
encourages other of his subjects to revolt, foreigners to attack him,
and all to despise him. The danger is greatest in popular states. It is
evident in all the seditions that vexed Rome, that those who wished to
proceed by force, and openly resist the wishes of an angry people ruined
all, but those who proceeded mildly and cautiously brought the people to
reason. One must humour the people, and make some concession to them,
even an illicit one. But let it be understood that this is only when
they are in a rebellious mood. It is not meant that one should always
pander to the passions, but hold them in check rather. ...

But should the sovereign prince take sides, he abdicates his role of
sovereign judge and becomes merely party leader. He thereby puts his
life in hazard, even if the revolt is not specifically directed against
his authority. We have seen this in the wars of religion which have
ravaged Europe for the past fifty years. We have seen the kingdoms of
Sweden, Scotland, Denmark, and England, the Swiss Confederates and the
Empire of Germany all change their religion, though the commonwealth
preserved its republican or monarchical form unaltered in each case. In
many places this has not been accomplished without much violence and
shedding of blood. But once a form of religion is accepted by common
consent, further disputation should on no account be admitted. All
questions which are made matters of debate become thereby matters of
doubt. But it is a great impiety to make a matter of doubt of the thing
which each man should be certain about and hold to resolutely. But there
is no matter, however simple and true, which is not made confused and
obscure by dispute, especially any matter which does not depend on
reason and demonstration, but on belief simply. If philosophers and
mathematicians do not question the principles of their sciences, why
should one be permitted to question a religion which has once been
accepted and approved ... It is well known that the kings of the East
and of Africa strictly forbid any discussion of religion. The same
prohibition is contained in the Ordinances of Spain, and of those of the
King of Muscovy. The latter, seeing his people divided into sects and
factions in consequence of the disputatious sermons of ministers of
religion, forbad preaching, or even discussion of religion on pain of
death. Priests were provided with a written creed and exhortations to be
read to the faithful without comment or addition, on the festivals of
the Church. By the law of God it is expressly commanded that the
Scriptures should be read constantly to people of all ages and both
sexes. It is not said that they should be discussed. On the contrary,
the Hebrews, taught by the Prophets from father to son, expounded the
law of God in the seven colleges on Mt. Sion, but they never disputed,
as we read in Optatus Milevitanus. The disputation was devised to
investigate matters of probability, and not matters necessary and
divine, since the latter are always rendered doubtful, being the subject
of disputation. Therefore all discussion of religion was strictly
forbidden on pain of death, and the prohibition rigorously enforced in
certain German towns, after the Imperial Diet of 1555.[15]

Even atheists agree that nothing so tends to the preservation of
commonwealths as religion, since it is the force that at once secures
the authority of kings and governors, the execution of the laws, the
obedience of subjects, reverence for the magistrates, fear of ill-doing,
and knits each and all in the bonds of friendship. Great care must be
taken that so sacred a thing should not be brought into doubt or
contempt by dispute, for such entails the ruin of the commonwealth.

I am not concerned here with what form of religion is the best. (There
is in fact only one religion, one truth, one divine law proceeding from
the mouth of God himself.) But if the prince who has assurance of the
true religion wishes to convert his subjects, split by sects and
factions, he should not, in my opinion, attempt to coerce them. The more
one tries to constrain men's wills, the more obstinate they become. But
if the prince in his own person follows the true religion without
hypocrisy or deceit, without any use of force, or any infliction of
punishments, he may turn his subjects' hearts. In doing this, not only
does he escape unrest, trouble, and civil strife, but he guides his
errant subjects to the gates of salvation. ...

The King of the Turks, who rules over a great part of Europe, safeguards
the rites of religion as well as any prince in this world. Yet he
constrains no one, but on the contrary permits everyone to live
according as his conscience dictates. What is more, even in his seraglio
at Pera he permits the practice of four diverse religions, that of the
Jews, the Christian according to the Roman rite, and according to the
Greek rite, and that of Islam. He also sends alms to the good fathers or
Christian monks of Mount Athos, in order that they shall pray for him.
Augustus did likewise with the Jews, sending the usual alms and
oblations to Jerusalem. Although Theodoric, King of the Goths, favoured
the Arian sect, he did not force the consciences of his subjects, giving
as his reason, according to Cassiodorus, that he could not command in
matters of religion, since no one can be forced to believe against his
will.

If a prince does otherwise, those who are prevented from the exercise of
their own religion, and not in sympathy with any other, end by becoming
atheists, as we know. Once they have lost the fear of God, they trample
under foot the law and the magistrate, and give themselves over to every
sort of impiety and wickedness, beyond the power of any human laws to
remedy. And just as the cruellest tyranny does not make for so much
wretchedness as anarchy, when neither prince nor magistrate is
recognized, so the most fantastic superstition in the world is not
nearly so detestable as atheism. One must therefore avoid the greater
evil if one cannot establish the true religion. ... 

We have spoken of the causes leading to changes in the form of
governments and of commonwealths. The same causes give rise to unrest
and civil war; that is to say failure to do justice, oppression of the
poor and humble, the unfair distribution of punishments and honours,
excessive riches in a few and excessive poverty in the rest, idleness in
the subject, and impunity in ill doing. This last is of the greatest
importance, though it is mostly considered the least. I have already
said this, but it bears frequent repetition. In proportion as princes
and magistrates try to win a reputation for mercy, so they call down on
their own heads the penalties that evil-doers have merited. ...

But besides these causes of unrest there is another which proceeds from
the freedom which is allowed to orators, who play upon the emotions and
fan the desires of the people as they choose. There is nothing which has
greater influence over men's souls than the art of eloquent speech. Our
forefathers portrayed the Celtic Hercules as an old man, trailing after
him a crowd of people fastened by the ears with chains issuing from his
mouth. They thus intimated that the powers and armed forces of kings and
princes are not so potent as the vehemence of an ardent and eloquent
man. He can excite the most cowardly to overcome the bravest, he makes
the proudest cast aside their arms, turns cruelty into gentleness,
barbarity into humanity, revolutionizes a commonwealth, and plays upon
the people at will. I don't say all this in praise of eloquence, but to
show what force it has, for it is a force more often used for ill than
good ends. It is nothing more than the art of disguising the truth, an
artifice to make that which is evil seem good, that which is right,
wrong, make a mountain out of a molehill and an elephant out of a mouse.
In other words it is the art of successful lying. There is no doubt that
for one who makes a good use of this art, fifty abuse it ... There is no
need to prove this by examples from Greece and Rome, one can see it in
our own age ... John of Leyden, who was a cobbler turned preacher,
seized Mnster, the capital city of Westphalia, caused himself to be
crowned its sovereign king, and sustained a seige by the imperial army
for three years. The preacher Geronimo Savonarola, supported by
Pagolantonio Soderini, moved the people to choose a popular form of
state when it was in doubt whether Florence should become an aristocracy
or a popular state. In the same way Pericles employed the orator
Ephialtes to persuade the Athenians to a popular state of an extreme
type. In brief, we have seen all Germany in arms, and a hundred thousand
people killed in less than a year because unruly preachers incited the
people against the nobles. ...[16]

Nevertheless, for those who wish to make good use of this weapon, it is
a means of converting a people from barbarism to humanity, it is a means
of reforming manners, improving the laws, expelling tyrants, banishing
vice, and strengthening virtue. There is no better means of appeasing
discontent, and persuading subjects to obedience than to employ a good
preacher, for he will find a way to soften and turn the hearts of the
most obstinate rebels. This is especially true in a popular state where
an ignorant people is master, and cannot be restrained except by
orators. For that reason they have always enjoyed the highest degree of
honour and power in popular states, controlling the distributions of
offices and charges, gifts and honours according to their good pleasure.
In brief, the issues of peace and war, arms and laws hang upon the words
of orators. On the other hand there is nothing that the tyrant has to
fear more than a popular orator, if his tyranny is hated.

But since these rules which we have formulated should be adapted to the
nature of the commonwealth and the type of government, laws, and customs
to the nature of each particular people, let us consider the nature of
the various peoples as a matter most necessary to be understood for the
good government of commonwealths.



1. Paolo Manuzio was the son of Aldo Manuzio and carried on the work of
the Aldine Press after him. I cannot find that he composed any work on
Venice. But his son, Aldo Manuzio il Giovane, who was associated with
him in the work of editing and publishing, wrote a book Discorso intorno
all' excellenza delle repubbliche, published in 1575. I have not been
able to consult it, but possibly the two men were confused by Bodin.

2. In 1524, 12 years after the death of Pandolfo Petrucci, virtual
despot of Siena, there was a rising against his son, and a government of
all sections established. In 1525, after Pavia, there were further
disturbances when the city put itself under the protection of the
Emperor Charles V on payment of a tribute. The extreme republican party
restored order, and confirmed the agreement with the Emperor, whereupon
a number of their aristocratic opponents withdrew from the city.

3. A Medici who governed Florence through the Cardinal Passerini. Hence
the outbreak against the regime when the Pope became a prisoner in
Castel Sant' Angelo in 1527 when Rome was sacked by the Imperial army
under the Constable de Bourbon.

4. Duke Cosimo I de' Medici, 1537-74.

5. He supported Savonarola and the popular party against the
aristocrats, and was set upon and killed by his enemies when Savonarola
fell.

6. Venetian admiral commanding in the wars of the early fourteenth
century, victor over the Turks at Gallipoli in 1416, over the Genoese at
Rapallo in 1431, and defender of Constantinople 1421-24.

7. Bodin is referring to the situation of France after Pavia, when the
King was captive and the alliance between Pope and Emperor brought a
general alignment against her.

8. Chapter II is devoted to a discussion of the predictability of
political changes. It is almost entirely astrological. The conclusion is
very fairly summed up at the beginning of chapter III. 'Though the
principles of astrology are generally accepted, and proved by
experience, the influence of the stars does not imply an order of
necessity. God has given men wisdom and understanding, whereby they may
preserve the good order of commonwealths, and forestall the ruin they
foresee.'

9. Agostino Barberigo was Doge from 1486 to 1501. He was suspected of
corrupt practices, but an enquiry was deferred till after his death.

10. In 1357 while King John was a prisoner in England, the
Estates-General, angry at heavy taxation and the disastrous course of
the war, and suspicious of misgovernment, forced upon the Dauphin
Charles, as regent, a council of 36 reformer-generals with wide powers
of correction. One of its first acts was to suspend all officers of
Justice and finance, pending an enquiry into their conduct. The
consequent anarchy brought its own reaction, and assisted Charles in
getting rid of the Estates and re-establishing the authority of the
Crown. 

11. The Count Valentino was Cesare Borgia. Louis XII intervened on
behalf of the Republic to check his conquests in Tuscany. The office
referred to, that of Gonfaloniere a vita was instituted in 1502, but its
holder, Piero Soderini, was forced to resign when the Medici, with the
support of Spanish arms, re-entered the city in 1512.

12. This question was not entirely academic in Bodin's day. Louis XII
still attended and heard cases in the Parlement of Paris. The practice
however was discontinued after his death. However Henry III could still
promise in the Ordinance of Blois, 1579, to render justice personally to
such of his subjects as sought it, but by then such action no longer
corresponded with the facts. 

13. Chapter V is devoted to considering whether magistrates ought to be
unanimous or divided in their opinions and policies. The general
conclusion is that division is mischievous in popular and aristocratic
states, but not very dangerous in a monarchy where the king can hold the
balance.

14. Pistoia was a subject city to Florence. Its inhabitants were divided
into the factions of the Panciatichi and the Cancellieri. Their
rivalries prevented any united resistance to Florentine domination, but
assumed such proportions that from 1500 to 1502 it was not possible to
exercise any control in the city, till some sort of a compromise was
negotiated by the Florentine government.

15. The Diet of Augsburg, which finally permitted Princes of the Empire
to establish Lutheran forms of worship in their principalities, if they
thought fit.

16. A reference to the Peasants' Revolt of 1524-25.

____________

BOOK V

The Order to be observed in adapting the Form of the Commonwealth to
Divers Conditions of Men, and the means of determining their
Dispositions. [CHAPTER I]

So far in discussing the commonwealth we have been concerned with
general principles. It remains to discuss the particular characteristics
of the different sorts of commonwealth that the diversity of races
requires. Political institutions must be adapted to environment, and
human laws to natural laws. Those who have failed to do this, and have
tried to make nature obey their laws, have brought disorder, and even
ruin, on great states. One observes very great differences in the
species of animals proper to different regions, and even noticeable
variations in animals of the same species. Similarly, there are as many
types of men as there are distinct localities. Under the same climatic
conditions oriental types are different from occidental, and in
latitudes at equal distances from the equator, the people of the
northern hemisphere are different from those of the south. What is more,
when the climate, latitude, and longitude is the same, one can observe
variations between those who are mountaineers, and those who live on the
open plains. Even in the same city there is a difference in humour and
in habits between those who live in the upper and those who live in the
lower parts of the town. This is why cities built in hilly country are
more subject to disorders and revolutions than those situated on level
ground. Rome, built on seven hills, was hardly ever free from civil
commotions ... The Swiss, a people that came originally from Sweden,
afford another example, for they are of the most various temperaments,
dispositions, and forms of government. Though they are more closely
related one to another than any other people, the men of the five Forest
Cantons and the Grisons are the more proud and warlike, and prefer an
extreme form of popular government. The others are more tractable, and
they are governed by aristocracies, for they are by nature more inclined
to that form of government than to a popular one. ...

A wise ruler of any people must therefore have a thorough understanding
of their disposition and natural inclinations before he attempts any
change in the constitution or the laws. One of the greatest, if not the
principal, foundation of the commonwealth is the suitability of its
government to the nature of the people, and of its laws and ordinances
to the requirements of time, place, and persons. For although Baldus
says that reason and natural equity are not conditioned by time and
place, one must distinguish between universal principles, and those
particular adaptations that differences of places and persons require.
The governments of commonwealths must be diversified according to the
diversities of their situations. The ruler must emulate the good
architect who builds with the materials locally available. The wise
statesman must do this too, for he cannot choose such subjects as he
would wish.

Let us then first consider the nature of northern peoples, and southern,
then of eastern and western, and the difference between those who
inhabit mountainous country, and those who live on flat plains, or in
marshy districts, or who are exposed to perpetual strong winds. We will
then consider how the discipline of laws can modify the natural
disposition of men, for we reject the doctrine of Polybius and Galen
that their natural environment has an absolute and necessary effect in
forming men's morals. Furthermore, in order the better to distinguish
the very great differences there are between those who live in the north
and those who live in the south, we propose to divide all those who live
this side the equator into three sections. The first are those who live
between the equator and the thirtieth parallel. This is the torrid zone,
and its inhabitants southerners. The next thirty degrees, to the
sixtieth parallel, is the temperate zone, and its people therefore
occupy a middle situation. From the sixtieth parallel to the pole is the
frigid zone, inhabited by northerners. The same divisions can be applied
to the people in the southern hemisphere, between the equator and the
antarctic pole ... The climate between the sixtieth and the
seventy-fifth parallel is severely cold, but there are nevertheless
people living there, and a number of commonwealths. But one can have
little to say about the last fifteen degrees below the pole, for there
are no men there, or only very few, and those savage creatures who live
like beasts in caves, so traders tell us, and what they say is confirmed
by our histories. ...

Just as in winter, places underground, and the internal organs of
animals, conserve the heat that is dissipated in summer, so people
inhabiting the northern latitudes have a more vehement internal heat
than those living in southern latitudes. This internal heat gives them
much greater strength and natural vigour than have the rest. The
coldness of the climate, by conserving their natural heat, gives them a
greater appetite, and they eat and drink more than others. In
consequence when armies drawn from the more southerly regions invade the
frigid zone, they become more vigorous and bold. This was evident when
Hannibal's army invaded Italy, or when the Arabs and the Moors invaded
Spain, or in the case of the seven thousand Spaniards the Emperor
Charles V took to Germany.[1] They all won notable victories. On the
other hand northern troops lose their vigour and become dispirited when
they are transported into southern countries, especially if it be in
summer. The Cimbrians were an example. Plutarch says that the heat they
had to endure in Provence completely exhausted them by keeping them in a
perpetual sweat. Had not the Romans vanquished them first they would
almost certainly have died. The same fate overtook the French before
Naples,[2] and the lanzknechts who were led into Italy by Charles of
Bourbon and George Fronsberg.[3] After they had sacked Rome, before the
year was out, ten thousand of them had perished without a blow struck,
according to Guicdardini.[4] The same effects are to be observed in
cattle that are transported from the north to some southern country.
They lose their fat, fail to give milk, and suffer a general decline.
Pliny remarked on it, and traders are always experiencing the same
thing. A Spaniard doubles his energy and his appetite when he goes into
France, while a Frenchman in Spain becomes languid and dainty. If he
tries to go on eating as he was accustomed to do at home, he runs the
risk of putting a term to his existence. Northerners feel languid when a
south wind blows. For the same reason men and animals, and especially
birds, who are very sensitive to change, grow fat in winter and thin in
summer.

If Leo Africanus[5] and Francesco d'Alvarez,[6] the authors of histories
of Africa and of Ethiopia, had observed the working of these natural
causes, they would not have praised the abstinence of the people of
these regions so highly. They cannot have much appetite if they lack
internal heat. For the same reason one should not blame northerners for
their gross appetites, and for eating more voraciously than southerners;
it is a consequence of the heat, the size and the bulk of their bodies.
The same effects may be found in antarctic regions. We read in the
History of the Indies[7] that Magellan found in those territories which
were named after him, Patagonian giants, so large and so powerful that
eight armed Spaniards were hardly sufficient to hold their own against
one of these simple and stupid people.

Northerners succeed by means of force, southerners by means of finesse,
people of the middle regions by a measure of both. They are therefore
the most apt for war, in the opinion of Vegetius and Vitruvius. It is
they who have founded all the great empires which have flourished in
arms and in laws. God has so distributed His favours that great strength
and great cunning are never allied either in men or in beasts, for there
is nothing more cruel than injustice armed with force. People of the
middle regions have more physical energy but less cunning than
southerners, and more intelligence but less strength than northerners.
They are better fitted to command, and to govern commonwealths, and they
are more just in their conduct. If one reads the histories of these
various peoples attentively, one will find that great and powerful
armies have always been raised in the north, while the occult sciences,
philosophy, mathematics, and other pure sciences are the achievement of
southern races. But political sciences, law, jurisprudence, rhetoric,
and logic originated among the people of the middle regions. These
people have established all the great empires the world has known, that
of the Assyrians, the Medes, the Persians, the Parthians, the Greeks,
the Romans, the Celts. Though the Arabs and the Moors for a time
conquered the empire of Persia, Syria, Egypt, and Barbary, and subjected
a great part of Spain, they could never subject Greece or Italy, and
when they tried to subject France they were defeated, and an army of
three hundred thousand men routed. The Romans extended their empire over
the peoples of the south and east. But they had only moderate success
against those of the west and north, though victors over all other
peoples. Nevertheless they applied all their resources and made the
greatest efforts to parry the blows delivered by those northern races
who had, as Tacitus says, speaking of the Germans, neither walls, towns,
nor fortifications. Although Trajan constructed a great bridge over the
Danube and defeated Decebalus, King of the Dacians, his successor the
Emperor Adrian caused it to be demolished, being afraid that the
northern barbarians would destroy the empire and the power of the
Romans. This they did after Constantine had disbanded the Roman legions
that held the frontiers of the Rhine and the Danube. Thereafter first
the Germans, then the Goths, Ostrogoths, Vandals, Franks, Burgundians,
Herules, Hungarians, Gepidae, Lombards and finally the Normans, the
Tartars, and the Turks overran the provinces that the Romans had once
held. Though the English have won notable victories over the French, in
nine hundred years they have not been able to expel the Scots from the
island, although one knows how much more numerous the French are than
the English, and the English than the Scots. ...

In my opinion Aristotle was mistaken in thinking that people who lived
either in extremely cold or extremely hot climates were barbarous. On
the contrary their histories, and experience shows that people who live
in the extreme south are much more ingenious than those of the middle
regions. Herodotus has left it on record that the Egyptians were the
most subtle and ingenious people in the world. Seven hundred years later
Caesar in his history of the civil wars made the same judgement on them
... Without looking further afield, we have the same point illustrated
in the difference in intelligence between the French and the English.
The latter complained to Philippe de Comines that to their surprise the
French generally lost the battles they fought against them, but
recovered their advantage in the subsequent treaties. We can say the
same thing of the Spaniards. For the past hundred years they have not
made a treaty with the French in which all the advantages have not been
on their side. This would take a long time to demonstrate in detail, but
I can take an example in the treaty of Cambrcis made in the year 1559.
It could not be denied that the strength of the king of France was very
great and sufficient to set him above his enemies. Nevertheless the
Spaniards gained more in this treaty, without striking a blow, than they
had for the past ninety years, for they had never hoped, as they
afterwards confessed, to snatch Savoy and Piedmont from the hands of the
French. ...

Those who live at the extremities near the poles are phlegmatic and
those in the extreme south, melancholic. Those who live thirty degrees
below the pole are of a more sanguine complexion, and those who are
about midway, sanguine or choleric. Further south they become more
choleric or melancholic. They are moreover tanned black or yellow, which
are the colours of black melancholy and yellow choler. Galen tells us
that phlegm makes a man heavy and dull; blood, joyous and robust;
choler, ready and active; melancholy, invariable and set in his ways.
There are as many varieties of human types as there are possible ways of
combining these four humours. ...

The ancients remarked on the barbarity and cruelty of northern races.
Thucydides son of Olorus, King of Thrace, even calls the Thracians a
cruel nation. Tacitus, speaking of the Germans says that they do not
execute criminals according to the forms of justice, but kill them
cruelly, as they serve their enemies. I will content myself with
contemporary evidence, without going back to ancient times... We know
that the torture of the wheel is employed in Germany, and men are
impaled alive in Tartary. They are no less cruel in Lithuania where they
compel the condemned to hang themselves, or they first scourge and
torture them before they are hanged. Such things make one think that the
cruelties that have been published about the King of Muscovy are only
too likely to be true. The less reasonable men are, and the less they
use their judgements, the more they share the brutal nature of beasts,
for they cannot be guided by reason nor put any restraints on
themselves, any more than can beasts.

On the other hand southern peoples are cruel and vindictive in
consequence of their melancholy, which engenders extreme violence in the
passions and impels men to take vengeance for what they suffer... Their
cruelty is all the more noticeable when it is a question of sentences
executed in the course of justice. Such should be without passion and
the expression of a sane judgement. Yet we find that the penalties
inflicted in ancient Persia passed all measure of cruelty. Even today
they flay thieves alive, stuff the skin of the victim and mount it on an
ass. The people who live in the temperate regions cannot contemplate, or
even hear of such cruelties without horror. It was probably for this
reason that the Romans let their criminals die by hunger, and the Greeks
gave them the gentlest poison that they knew. The cruelty of the north
is therefore not the same as that of the south. The one comes from a
brutal impetuosity such as one finds in irrational animals. The other
resembles more the deliberate cruelty of the fox who savours his
revenge. ...

There is another very notable difference between northerners and
southerners, in that the former are modest and chaste, and the latter
very libidinous as a result of their melancholy temperament. We read
that the Kings of Africa and of Persia always kept a harem of wives.
This cannot be imputed to depraved morals seeing that in the New World
King Alcazares had four hundred wives, and the father of Atabalippa, the
last king of Peru, who was done to death by the Pizarro brothers, had
two hundred wives and fifty children... Among the barbarians Tacitus
says the Germans only allowed one wife. Sometimes they even lived
together in perpetual virginity, as did the Emperor Henry II. Casimir I,
King of Poland, and Wenceslas, King of Bohemia, never married at all.
This was not however so much that they were chaste, as naturally
impotent ... People of the middle regions are moderate in these matters.
Their laws for the most part allow one legitimate wife ... The Roman
Emperors even made a general law, applying to all peoples indifferently,
that the stigma of infamy should attach to anyone who took more than one
wife. Later they made it a matter of capital punishment. But this law,
acceptable to the Romans, was never taken much account of by the
Africans, since it was ill-suited to their dispositions. This is what
happens to the schemes of anyone who tries to apply laws proper to
northern races to people of the south, without considering their
dispositions... The historians of the ancient world would make the same
sort of mistake in praising the goodness and honesty of the Scythians
and their neighbours. They deserve no praise for their virtue who lack
the spirit to do evil, and do not know how to sin. Machiavelli was also
wrong in saying that the Spaniards, the Italians, and the French were
the corruptors of the world. He had not read good books, nor had he
experience of other races. ...

If one considers carefully the natures of the peoples of the northern,
southern, and temperate zones, one finds that they can be compared to
the three ages of man, youth, age, and maturity, and the qualities
characteristic of these ages. Moreover in the governing of their
commonwealths, they rely on those appeals which carry most weight in
each case. Northerners rely on force, those in the middle regions on
justice, and southerners on religion. The magistrate in Germany, says
Tacitus, can command nothing except he does it sword in hand. Caesar
says in his Memoirs that the Germans have no religion, and only respect
prowess in war and the chase. The Scythians, says Solinus, set a sword
in the earth and worship that, founding all their actions, laws,
religion, and judgements on force and the sword. We find that judicial
combats are characteristic of northern races, and are freely enjoined in
the laws of the Salians, the Franconians, the Angles, the Ripuarians,
and other such peoples. Fronton[8], King of Denmark, enacted that all
quarrels were to be settled by combat. No one has ever been able to
abrogate these laws, although popes and other princes have tried,
regardless of the fact that the nature of northern races is quite
different from that of southern. ... 

It is equally obvious that laws and the forms of justice originated with
the people of the temperate regions such as Asia Minor (where orators
and rhetoricians were held in high honour), Greece, Italy, France. It is
not just a present day phenomenon that the French are continually
employed in litigation. Whatever laws or ordinances are made to diminish
it, the natural inclination of the people will always reassert itself.
In any case it is much better to decide disputes by legal process than
by the sword. In short, nearly all the great orators, legislators,
jurisconsults, historians, poets, satirists, and all such like who win
men's hearts by argument and fair speech, come from the temperate
regions. We find in the histories of the Greeks and the Romans that
before they embarked on the most insignificant little war, they debated
the rights of the case with much discussion, denunciation, and solemn
protestation. This is not at all characteristic of northern races, who
rush to take up arms at once. They resort to force for all purposes, as
do lions; those of the temperate regions to reason and law.

Southern races rely on diplomacy and finesse as do foxes, or they appeal
to religion. Rational argument is too mild for the crude northern races,
and too prosaic for southerners, who do not want to bother with legal
opinion and forensic conjectures, where truth and falsehood are weighed
against each other. They wish to be made certain by proofs, or by divine
oracles which transcend human reason. Thus we see that southern races,
the Egyptians, the Chaldaeans, and the Arabs, have developed the occult,
the natural, and the mathematical sciences. These have always fascinated
the greatest spirits and constrained them to the pursuit of truth. All
great systems of religion have originated in the south and from there
have spread throughout the world. Not that God respects either places or
peoples, or fails to pour out His divine light over all. But just as the
sun is reflected more brilliantly in clear still water than in rough
water or a muddy pool, so the divine spirit, so it seems to me,
illumines much more clearly pure and untroubled minds than those which
are clouded and troubled by earthly affections. If it is true that the
soul is purified by divine illumination, and by the force of the
contemplation of the most lofty matters, it is understandable that those
only arrive at such heights who have wings to raise their souls to
heaven. This is the privilege of the melancholy temperament which is
composed in spirit, and given to contemplation. This is what the Hebrews
and the Platonists call euthanasia because it elevates the soul above
its terrestrial body to spiritual realities. It is no wonder then if the
people of the south are better ruled by means of religion, than by force
or by reason ... Anyone who tried to govern such people by means of the
laws and customs observed in Turkey, Greece, Italy, France, and other
countries of the temperate zone, would soon bring his government to the
point of collapse. Similarly anyone who tried to accustom northern
people to the legal pleadings of France and Italy would find himself
frustrated in the attempt. This was the experience of Matthias, King of
Hungary. He sent to Italy for jurists to reform the legal system of
Hungary; but in a very short time his subjects found themselves so
entangled in legal subtleties that the King was compelled, upon the
petition of the Estates, to send the Italians back to their country.
...[9] 

One can judge from all these things that the people of the temperate
zone are better fitted than the rest for the management of
commonwealths, for they have by nature the virtue of prudence, and
prudence is the measure of human actions, a touchstone whereby men
distinguish good from evil, justice from injury, honest proceedings from
dishonest. Prudence is the quality proper to command, just as force
which is the characteristic of northern races, is to execution. Southern
races, less adapted to political activity, are contented with the
contemplation of the natural and divine sciences, and the problem of
distinguishing the false from the true. And just as prudence,
distinguishing good and evil, is characteristic of people of the
temperate zone, and the scientific pursuit of truth to the southern
races, so that art which lies in manual dexterity is more marked among
northern races than any other.

Spaniards and Italians are filled with admiration at the many and
diverse manufactured articles that they import from Germany, England,
and Flanders.

There are three principal parts of the soul in a man, that is to say the
speculative reason, the practical reason, and the factive imagination.
Similarly in the commonwealth priests and philosophers are concerned
with the exploration of divine and occult science, magistrates and
officers with commanding, judging, and providing for the government of
the commonwealth, the ordinary subjects with labour and the mechanical
arts. The same characteristics are to be observed in the universal
commonwealth of the world. God in His miraculous wisdom has so ordered
it that the southern races are ordained to search into the most abstruse
sciences in order that thereby they might teach the rest. The northern
races are ordained to labour and the mechanical arts, and the people of
the middle regions to bargain, trade, judge, persuade, command,
establish commonwealths, and make laws and ordinances for the other
races. The northern peoples from lack of prudence are not apt for this,
neither are southern peoples, either because too given up to the
contemplation of matters divine and natural, or because they lack that
promptness and energy required in human activities, or because they
cannot compromise, nor dissimulate, nor endure the fatigues necessary to
a life given to active politics. ...

These are the general characteristics of the different races of men. As
for their particular characteristics, there are of course men of all
kinds of temperament in all localities and countries, though more or
less subject to these general conditions which I have described.
Moreover the particular can greatly modify the general character of the
country. Though there is no identifiable boundary between east and west,
as there is between north and south, all the ancients held that oriental
peoples were gentler, more courteous, tractable, and intelligent than
western peoples, though less warlike. 'See', said the Emperor Julian,
'how docile and tractable are the Persians and Syrians, the Germans and
Celts proud and jealous of their liberty, the Normans both courteous and
warlike, the Egyptians intelligent, subtle and generally effeminate.'
The Spaniards have observed that the Chinese, the most eastern people we
know, are the most intelligent and courteous people in the world, while
the Brazilians, the most occidental race, the most barbarous and cruel.
In brief, if one reads histories carefully one will find that within the
same latitudes the western peoples approximate more to the character of
northerners, and orientals to southerners. ...

But the most notable cause of variation is the difference between
mountains and plains. Moreover it makes a great difference whether
valleys in the same latitude or even on the same parallel are opened to
the north or south. This can be seen where a mountain range runs from
west to east as do the Apennines dividing Italy into two halves, or the
Auvergne mountains in France, the Pyrenees between France and Spain, and
the Atlas mountains in Africa, which extend from the Atlantic ocean to
the frontiers of Egypt, a distance of six hundred leagues, or the Alps,
which start in France and stretch as far as Thrace ... In consequence
those who live in Tuscany, for instance, are of a very different
complexion and much more intelligent than the inhabitants of Lombardy.
Again the natives of Aragon, Valencia, and other provinces south of the
Pyrenees differ markedly from Gascons and the men of Languedoc, who have
many of the characteristics of northern races ... It is no wonder then
that the Florentine, whose country lies open on the east and the south
and is protected by mountains to the north and west has a much more
subtle nature than the Venetian and is more skilled in the management of
affairs. All the same, when Florentines attempt collective action they
ruin all, whereas Venetians in council manage affairs most capably and
have done for the past two hundred years. For men of a less subtle
spirit listen to reason, are capable of modifying their opinions, and
are guided by the most experienced. But subtle and ambitious spirits
hold to their own point of view and abandon their preconceptions with
reluctance. As each believes himself capable of commanding the rest they
prefer a popular form of government. But they cannot maintain such
without incessant disputes and disorders, because of the natural
obstinacy characteristic of a southern and melancholic race, or one
whose particular situation inclines them to the characteristics of a
southern race. ...

But one sees the Swiss Confederates wisely preserve their popular forms
of government in a way that the Florentines and inhabitants of Genoa,
for all their talents, cannot accomplish. For northern races, or those
who live in mountainous regions, are proud and warlike, relying on their
physical prowess, and so they prefer popular states, or at any rate
elective monarchies, and will not endure to be ruled by pretentious
boasters. All their kings are elective, and they expel them the moment
they turn tyrant, as was done to the Kings of Sweden, Denmark, Norway,
Poland, Bohemia, and Tartary. What I have said about the characteristics
of northern countries applies also to mountainous countries, where the
climate is often colder than it is in the extreme north ... Their
strength and vigour disposes mountaineers to love popular liberty, and
to be impatient of dictation. We have pointed this out in the case of
the Swiss and the inhabitants of the Grisons. It is also true of the
people of Fez, Morocco, and Arabia, who live in complete liberty without
anyone lording it over them. This is not a consequence of confidence
born of the natural impregnability of their country, but comes from
their naturally savage nature which cannot be easily tamed. Herein lies
the answer to a question raised by Plutarch, as to why the dwellers on
the acropolis in Athens demanded a popular form of government, while
those of the lower town preferred the government of an aristocratic
group. They are much mistaken therefore who wish to convert the popular
states of the Swiss, the Grisons and other mountain people into
monarchies. For although monarchy is absolutely the best type of
government, they are not fit subjects for such a form. ...

Another factor in the variations of climate is the prevailing wind.
Places subject to strong winds induce a different moral type in their
inhabitants from other places in the same latitude. Where the air is
soft and gentle, men are much more composed and equable than are those
who are buffeted by violent tempests. France, especially Languedoc,
southern Germany, Hungary, Thrace, Portugal, and Persia are inhabited by
men of a much more turbulent and excitable temperament than are the
Italians, Anatolians, Assyrians, or Egyptians, where the stillness of
the atmosphere makes men much more docile. Marshes also produce a
different type of men than do mountains. Even the relative sterility or
fertility of the soil modifies the natural effects of climate. Livy
remarks that the inhabitants of rich and fertile country are normally
mean and cowardly, whereas a barren soil makes men sober of necessity,
and in consequence careful, vigilant, and industrious. The Athenians
were of this type, and they punished idleness with death. ...

If anyone would understand how nurture, laws, and customs have power to
modify the natural disposition of a people, he has only to look at the
example of Germany. In Tacitus' day its inhabitants knew neither laws,
religion, the sciences, nor any form of commonwealth. Now they are
second to none in all these achievements ... On the other hand the
Romans have lost the greatness and virtue of their fathers and are
nowadays idle, mean, and cowardly ... If the discipline of laws and
customs is not maintained, a people will quickly revert to its natural
type. If men are transplanted from one country to another, although they
do not react as quickly as plants which suck their nourishment from the
very soil, nevertheless in time they also will change. The Goths who
invaded Spain and southern Languedoc illustrate this point, and so do
the ancient Gauls who peopled the Black Forest region of Germany. Caesar
said that in his time, which was five hundred years after their
migration, they had so changed their nature and their habits as to have
become German. ...

We have said in general terms that southern races are by nature contrary
to northern races. The latter are tall and robust, the former small and
feeble. The one rustic and uncouth, the other courteous and ceremonious.
The one extravagant and rapacious, the other tenacious and avaricious.
The one warlike, the other philosophical. The one inured to arms and to
labour, the other to learning and repose. If the southerner is
opinionated, as Plutarch says he is when he is discussing Africans, and
sticks to the same ideas throughout his life, the others are obviously
unstable and incapable of persisting in anything. But those of the
middle region display a mean of virtue, between obstinacy and frivolity.
They cannot be dissuaded of their opinions without reason, as can
northerners, nor are they so set that they would rather overturn the
state than alter their views ... When one considers the inhabitants of
the middle region, one must always think of them in relative terms, as
having the propensities of the extremities but in a modified form. One
must also take into consideration the particular influences of winds,
humidity, the soil, the influence of laws and customs, and not merely
concern oneself with climate. ... 

So much for the natural inclinations of peoples. As I have said, this
compulsion is not of the order of necessity. But it is a very important
matter for all those who are concerned with the establishment of the
commonwealth, its laws and its customs. They must know when and how to
overcome, and when and how to humour these inclinations. Let us now
consider means of preventing disorders that arise over the question of
property.

How to Prevent those Disorders which spring from Excessive Wealth and
Excessive Poverty [CHAPTER II]

THE commonest cause of disorders and revolutions in commonwealths has
always been the too great wealth of a handful of citizens, and the too
great poverty of the rest. The histories are full of occasions on which
those who have given all sorts of reasons for their discontents have
taken the first opportunity that offered of despoiling the rich of their
possessions ... For this reason Plato called riches and poverty the two
original plagues of the commonwealth, not only because of the misery
that hunger occasions, but the shame, and shame is a very evil and
dangerous malady. To remedy this condition of things, it has been
suggested that there should be an equality of possessions. This
suggestion has been strongly supported, and it has been claimed that it
would prove a source of peace and amity among subjects, whereas
inequality is the source of enmity, faction, hatred, and prejudice. He
who has more than another, and is conscious of being richer in
possessions, thinks he should also enjoy a greater measure of honour,
luxury, pleasure, have more food and more clothes. He thinks he should
be looked up to by the poor whom he despises and treads underfoot. The
poor, for their part, suffer acute envy and jealousy in considering
themselves just as worthy or even more worthy of riches, yet oppressed
by hunger, poverty, misery, and contempt. Therefore many architects of
republics in the ancient world advocated an equal division of property
among all subjects. Even within living memory Thomas More, the
Chancellor of England, in his Republic laid down that a necessary
condition of general well-being was that men should enjoy a community of
goods, which is not possible where there are private property rights ...
Lycurgus accomplished this at the risk of his life, for after having
prohibited the circulation of gold and silver, he made an equal division
of all lands... The Romans as a people were more equitable and had more
understanding of the principles of justice than any other. They often
decreed a general remission of debts, sometimes to the amount of one
quarter, or one third, sometimes even the whole amount. This was the
best and quickest way they found of composing disorders and discontents.
... 

On the other side it can be argued that equality of possessions is
subversive of the commonwealth. The surest foundation of a commonwealth
is public confidence, for without it neither justice, nor any sort of
lasting association is possible. Confidence only arises where promises
and legal obligations are honoured. If these obligations are cancelled,
contracts annulled, debts abolished, what else can one expect but the
total subversion of the state, for none would any longer have any
confidence in his fellows ... But if the inconveniences of such
abolitions are obvious, still more unfortunate is the equal division of
lands and possessions which are cither rightful inheritances, or justly
acquired. In the case of debts, one can make the excuse of usury. But
this cannot be alleged against lands legitimately inherited. Such
partitions of the goods of another is robbery in the name of equality.
Moreover to say that equality is the mother of amity is to abuse the
ignorant, for there is no hatred so bitter, or enmity so deadly as that
between equals. Jealousy of equals one of another is the source of
unrest, disorder, and civil war. On the other hand the poor, the weak,
and the unprotected defer to and obey their betters, the rich and the
powerful, most willingly, with a view to their assistance, and the
advantages they hope will accrue. ...

Besides, what Lycurgus intended in dividing up property among
individuals to preserve equality of heritages in perpetuity was a thing
impossible of achievement. He could see for himself that the original
equality between individuals was almost immediately upset by the fact
that some parents had twelve or fifteen children, and others one or two,
or even none at all... Some, like Hippodamus the Milesian lawgiver, have
tried to solve this difficulty by limiting the citizen body to ten
thousand ... Sir Thomas More, the English Chancellor, thought that no
family should consist of less than ten or more than sixteen children, as
if he could command nature ... But one should never be afraid of having
too many subjects or too many citizens, for the strength of the
commonwealth consists in men. Moreover the greater the multitude of
citizens, the greater check there is on factious seditions. For there
will be many in an intermediate position between the rich and the poor,
the good and the bad, the wise and the foolish. There is nothing more
dangerous to the commonwealth than that its subjects should be divided
into two factions, with none to mediate between them. This is the normal
situation in a small commonwealth of few citizens. Let us therefore
reject the schemes of those who wish to introduce equality of property
in commonwealths already founded, by taking a man's property from him,
instead of securing to each that which belongs to him, for this is the
only way of establishing natural justice. Let us also reject the idea of
limiting the number of citizens, and conclude that there should be no
partition of inheritances except on the foundation of a new commonwealth
in a conquered country. In such case the division should be by families
and not by individuals, and a certain pre-eminence should be accorded to
one particular family, and an order of priority established within each
family. ...

The law of God shows us plainly how matters should be arranged ... By
that law the principle of an exact equality is not sustained, for some
are assigned more, some less than others. The tribe of Levi apart, there
was an even distribution of lands among the twelve tribes. In the family
there was an equal division of property among the younger sons, saving
the right of the first-born (to a double portion). He was not allowed
even four-fifths or two-thirds, much less the whole of the inheritance.
This was for fear that so great a degree of inequality might occasion
fratricides, quarrels between the tribes, or conflicts and civil wars
between subjects. But in order to maintain this balance between too much
or too little, alienation either to living persons, or by will, must not
be prohibited, as it is in some places, provided that the provisions of
the law of God are observed. That is to say all alienated inheritances
revert to the house or family from which they have been withdrawn after
fifty years. In this way those who get into difficulties, and have to
sell their heritages in order to provide for the necessities of life,
can redeem them any time within fifty years, at which term they will
return to them or their heirs. In this way bad managers are not able to
dissipate their estates permanently, and the avarice of successful
managers is kept in check.

As to the abolition of debts, such a proceeding sets a very bad example,
as already said. This is not so much because of the loss to creditors,
for this is a matter of little moment by comparison with the public
interest. What is more serious is the excuse it affords of violating
legitimate agreements, and the encouragement it gives to dissatisfied
persons to make trouble, in the hope of promoting a remission of debts.
...

What is most to be feared is that one of the estates of the
commonwealth, and that the weakest and least numerous, should become as
rich as all the rest put together. This was once the position of the
estate of the clergy. An estate of the commonwealth which numbered only
one hundredth part of the subjects, collected tithes of all sorts, and,
in defiance of the decrees of the primitive Church, as the popes
themselves confessed, secured testamentary bequests of both movables and
real estate, duchies, counties, baronies, fiefs, castles, houses in town
and country, rents all over the place, and sold or exchanged them, and
acquired and pledged the revenues of benefices to use the money for
further acquisitions. Moreover all this property was exempt from taxes,
imposts, and charges of all sorts. It was in the end found necessary to
issue an injunction requiring ecclesiastics to surrender inheritances
and real estate left to the Church, within a certain time on pain of
confiscation, as was done in England by a statute of King Edward I ... I
am not concerned as to whether this property was employed as it ought to
have been. What I do say is that so unequal a distribution was perhaps
the cause of the disorders and revolts against the estate of the clergy
which broke out over practically all Europe, though all was done under
the pretext of religion. But if that pretext had not been to hand,
another would have been found, as was the case earlier when attacks were
made on the Order of the Temple, and on the Jews. ...

It would seem however that where the eldest son succeeds of right to the
whole estate, as was the rule with the seven thousand Spartan citizens,
the splendour and dignity of ancient families is much better preserved
and their decline prevented. This, it is argued, benefits the whole
estate of the realm, for it is the more firmly established and more
stable for being founded on old-established families as upon great and
immovable pillars. The weight of a great building cannot be borne by
slender columns, even if they are numerous. In fact it appears that the
greatness of the kingdoms of France and Spain is largely due to their
noble and illustrious houses, and on their ancient guilds and
corporations, which once dismembered would lose their value.

But this argument appears more convincing than it is, except where the
state is an aristocracy. What the monarch, especially the despotic or
tyrannical monarch, has most to fear, are the noble houses and powerful
guilds and corporations. As for the popular state, based as it is upon
the principle of equality in all things, how can it allow so great an
inequality within families that one inherits all and the rest starve?
All the rebellions that vexed Greece and Rome arose out of this
circumstance. But in the aristocratic state, where the rulers are in
principle not the equals of ordinary folk, the custom of primogeniture
is preservative, as it was in the aristocratic state of Sparta. ...

Concerning Rewards and Punishments [CHAPTER IV][10]

THE subject of rewards and punishments must be treated very briefly. To
do so exhaustively would require a major work, for these two things
affect every aspect of the life of all commonwealths. If punishments and
rewards are well and wisely distributed, the commonwealth will continue
happy and flourishing. But if able and upright citizens do not receive
the reward of their merits, or wicked ones the punishments which they
deserve, there is no hope that the commonwealth can long endure. There
is probably no more frequent occasion, or more immediate cause of
troubles, disorders, and civil wars, leading to the downfall of
commonwealths than the neglect of men of ability, and the favour that it
shows to the unworthy. It is not however so necessary to discuss
punishment as to discuss rewards, since all laws and customs deal
extensively with them, for vice is commoner than virtue, and there are
more wicked men than virtuous. But since punishments are in themselves
hateful, and rewards acceptable, wise princes have always been
accustomed to hand over the infliction of penalties to magistrates, but
to reserve the bestowing of favours to themselves. They thus win the
love of their subjects and avoid all ill will. For this reason jurists
and magistrates have treated the theme of punishment very fully but
hardly touched on rewards. ...

All rewards are either honourable or profitable ... When we speak of
rewards we mean triumphs, statues, honourable charges, estates, offices,
benefices, gifts; or immunities from all or some particular burdens such
as tallages, imposts, wardship, military service, and exemptions from
the jurisdiction of the ordinary courts; or letters patent of
citizenship, of legitimization, of nobility, knighthood, and such like
honours. If however the office is an obligation without honour, then it
is not a reward, but on the contrary a charge or burden.

Honours must not be confused with favours, for honours are the reward of 
merit, but favours are acts of grace. The diversity of character in 
commonwealths diversifies the principles on which honours and favours are 
distributed. There is a great difference between monarchies and popular and 
aristocratic states. In popular states rewards are more honourable than 
profitable, for humble folks are only concerned with profit, and care little 
about honours. They therefore bestow them easily and willingly on those who 
want them. The contrary is the case in a monarchy, for the prince, who 
distributes all awards, is more jealous of bestowing honour than profit. In 
a tyranny especially, there is nothing that a prince more dislikes than to 
see a subject honoured and respected, for he fears that a taste for honours 
will incite the subject to aspire higher, and aim at the state itself. 
Sometimes the nature of the tyrant is such that he cannot endure the light 
of virtue. We read of the Emperor Caligula, that he was jealous and envious 
of the honour paid to God Himself, of the Emperor Domitian, the meanest and 
most cowardly tyrant that ever was, that he was so unable to endure that 
honour should be paid to those who had most merited it, that he caused them 
to be put to death. Instead of rewarding illustrious citizens, princes do 
sometimes cause them to be killed, or banished, or condemned to perpetual 
imprisonment in order to safeguard their own position. Alexander the Great 
did this to his Constable Parmenion, Justinian to Belisarius, Edward IV to 
the Earl of Warwick. Many others have been killed, poisoned, or maltreated 
as a reward for their prowess. ...

One never finds monarchs therefore and still less tyrants, who are willing 
to grant triumphs or state entries to their subjects, however overwhelming 
the victory they may have won over the enemy. On the contrary, the wise 
captain, in place of a triumph on his return from the wars bares his head 
before his sovereign with the words, 'yours, Sire, is the glory', even 
though the prince was nowhere near the field of battle ... One could of 
course say of popular states as well that the victory of its captains is 
ascribed to the people under whose banner they fought. Nevertheless the 
honour of a triumph is accorded the captain, a thing which never happens in 
a monarchy. This is the principal, and perhaps the sole reason, why there is 
always a greater number of illustrious citizens to be found in well-ordered 
popular states than in a monarchy. Honour, which is the sole reward of 
virtue, is denied or severely restricted in the case of those who have 
merited it in a monarchy, but freely granted in a well-ordered popular 
state, especially for prowess in war. A high and generous spirit covets 
honour more than all the riches in the world, and will not hesitate to 
sacrifice life and possessions for the sake of the glory it aspires to. The 
greater the honours awarded, the more men will be forthcoming who merit 
them. It was for this reason that the Roman Republic produced more great 
captains, wise senators, eloquent orators, and learned judges than any other 
republic, barbarian, Greek, or Latin. Anyone who had put to flight a legion 
of the enemy could demand a triumph, or at least some honourable 
distinction, and he could hardly fail to achieve one or the other ... The 
wisdom of the ancient Romans is to be much admired in this respect. By the 
same expedient they avoided both a money recompense and the appeal to 
avarice, and engraved the love of virtue on the hearts of their subjects 
with the graving-tool of honour. Other princes found enough money for 
material rewards with the greatest difficulty, exhausting their revenues, 
selling domain, oppressing their subjects by confiscating the property of 
some and despoiling others to recompense their creatures (though indeed 
virtue cannot be calculated in terms of money). The Romans only gave 
honours. ...

It is however impossible ever to control the distribution of honours and
punishments once the prince has offered offices and benefices for sale.
This is the most dangerous and pernicious evil that can befall the
commonwealth. All nations have provided against it by good laws. In this
kingdom the ordinances of St. Louis brand with infamy those who have
used influence to get offices of justice. This rule was well kept till
the time of Francis I, and is most strictly observed in England, as I
have learned from the English ambassador Randon[11] ... There is no need
to enumerate the disadvantages and miseries that befall the Republic
where office is sold; it would be a long recital, and only too familiar
to everyone. It is more difficult to persuade a popular state that such
traffic is desirable than an aristocracy. It is a means of excluding the
lower classes from positions of importance, for in popular states the
poor expect to enjoy office without paying for it. All the same, it is
not easy even there to enforce the prohibition when the poor see a
chance of profit in electing ambitious men.

In the case of a monarchy, financial pressure sometimes forces the
monarch to set aside good laws to relieve his necessity. But once one
has opened the door to such a practice, it is almost impossible to halt
the decline ... For it is unquestionable that those who put honours,
offices, and benefices up for sale, thereby sell the most precious thing
in this world, and that is justice. They sell the commonwealth, they
sell the blood of its subjects, they sell the laws. In taking away the
rewards of honour, virtue, learning, piety, and religion, they open the
door to robbery, extortion, avarice, injustice, ignorance, impiety, in
short, every sort of vice and corruption. The prince cannot excuse
himself on grounds of poverty. There is no real or even likely excuse
for compassing the ruin of the commonwealth under cover of poverty. It
is in any case ridiculous for a prince to plead poverty when there are
so many other ways of relieving it, if he will give his mind to the
matter. ...

Let then the prince leave the infliction of punishments to his
magistrates and officers, as we have said is expedient, and himself
distribute honours to whom they pertain, giving favours little by
little, in order that the grace may be more lasting, and punishments
immediately, in order that the pain may be less grievous to him who
suffers it, and fear the better impressed on the hearts of the rest. In
so doing, he will not only fill the commonwealth with virtuous men and
drive out the wicked, which is the sum of the felicity of the
commonwealth, but he will acquit himself of his debts, if he is
indebted, and if be is quit already, he will preserve the funds in his
treasury. ...

Therefore if on enquiry into the career and character of all who aspire
to honours, offices, benefices, knighthoods, exemptions, immunities,
gifts, and honours of all sorts, their lives are found to be evil and
depraved, not only ought they to be refused, but punished. But honours
should be given to worthy men, according to the deserts of each on the
principle of harmonic justice. That is to say that finance should go to
the most honest, arms to the bravest, justice to the most upright, moral
discipline to those of greatest integrity, work to the strongest,
government to the wisest, priesthood to the most devout. At the same
time due regard must be paid to the birth, riches, age, and capacity of
each, and the requirements of the various charges and offices. For it is
ridiculous to seek to appoint a warlike judge, a courageous prelate, a
conscientious soldier. ...[12]

Whether it is expedient to Arm Subjects, Fortify, and organize for War
[CHAPTER V]

THIS is one of the most important problems of policy, and one of the
most difficult to solve, because of the disadvantages of either course
of action. I will summarize them as well as I can, and indicate what I
think the best course, but the practical solution must be left to the
skill of statesmen. Simply to follow Aristotle and say that the city
should be well fortified, and so placed as to be a good base for
aggressive operations, but difficult of access to the enemy, does not
take into account the real difficulties. One must consider whether the
same policy is as suitable in a monarchy as in a popular state, and in a
tyranny as in a kingdom, seeing that, as we have already shown,
commonwealths of contrary tendencies need regulating by contrary
institutions. 

It is said, for instance, that nothing is more destructive of a warlike
spirit in the subject than fortifications, since they turn the
inhabitants into cowards ... Again, citadels and defence works encourage
bad rulers to oppress their subjects. Strong walls also enable subjects
to rebel against their sovereign lords and rulers. For this reason the
Kings of England do not allow any of their subjects to fortify their
houses, even with a moat ... But all fortified cities, which cannot hope
to sustain a long siege, generally treat and secure the withdrawal of
the enemy by an indemnity, and they can do this without any shame or
reproach ... This could not be done if the city were well fortified,
because of the dishonour attached to those who make composition with an
enemy they could have resisted ... If then it is true that fortresses
offer opportunities to evil princes to tyrannize over their subjects, to
enemies to occupy the country, to subjects to show themselves cowards in
the face of the enemy, rebel against their prince, and scheme against
one another, it cannot be argued that they are either useful or
necessary, but on the contrary, they are harmful and destructive of the
commonwealth.

But on the general question of whether one should train citizens to
arms, and seek war rather than peace, there appears to be no doubt as to
the answer. A commonwealth is to be esteemed happy where the king is
obedient to divine and natural law, the magistrate to the king, subjects
to the magistrate, children to parents, servants to masters, and where
subjects are bound to each other and to their prince by ties of
affection, for the enjoyment of the blessings of peace and true
tranquillity of spirit. War is a condition quite contrary to this, and
warriors are sworn enemies to such a way of life. It is not possible for
religion, justice, charity, security of life, in short, all the liberal
sciences and mechanical arts to nourish in any commonwealth which does
not enjoy a profound and lasting peace. But such a state of affairs is
ruination to professional soldiers, for times of piping peace render
their calling useless. No one is a greater enemy to a man of peace than
a rough soldier, to the good peasant than brutal mercenary, to the
philosopher than the captain, to the wise than fools. What the fighting
man most enjoys is to devastate the countryside, rob peasants, bum
villages, besiege, storm and sack towns, slaughter good and evil alike,
young and old of whatever age or sex, ravish women, drench themselves in
blood, defile sacred things, raze churches, blaspheme the holy name, and
tread underfoot all rights, human and divine. Such are the fruits of
war, pleasing and agreeable to men of war, but abominable to men of good
will, and detestable in the sight of God. There is no need to enlarge
upon what has been practised in so many places, when the very memory is
sufficient to make the hair of the boldest stand on end. If this be so
then one should on no account train subjects in arms and start them on
the road to so execrable a way of life, nor indeed make war at all,
except as a measure of defence in cases of extreme necessity. ...

Such are the arguments on one side. But one can argue on the other side
that unfortified towns are exposed to spoliation by the first comer, and
the lives of their inhabitants are at the mercy of all. Moreover it
would appear that open towns are a temptation to all those who
contemplate aggression, whereas walls deprive the enemy of both the will
and the power to attack. In like case those who travel unarmed invite
thieves and robbers to kill them for what they carry on them. One knows
very well that the loot of captured towns is held out as a reward to
troops. They are the natural enemies of the weak, but dare attempt
little against the well-armed. It must also be remembered that the first
and only occasion of men gathering together into societies and
communities was for the safety and defence of each in particular and all
in general whether women and children, or goods and chattels. This could
not be secured unless towns were fortified. For to say that men are the
best defence against the enemy is only applicable on the actual field of
battle. In any case those who can thus defend themselves are never more
than a fourth part of the inhabitants, for there are always more women
than men in any community, and there are besides children and old
people, the sick and the helpless, and their protection must he in
strong walls. It is moreover ridiculous to say that men are more valiant
if they have no fortifications to rely on. If this is so, one should not
permit the use of a shield or defensive armour in face of the enemy.
Logically we should then prohibit men from fighting otherwise than quite
naked ... Besides, the experience of many centuries has shown that we
must do as the Persians, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, and the
Gauls did of old, and fortify, equip with arms, and provision towns,
ports and fortifiable sites, for the defence and security of friends,
and resistance against the enemy.

Such are the arguments in support of the view that towns should be
fortified. For the same reasons we hold that the subject should be
trained to arms. For since the right to preserve life and punish thieves
is recognized by divine, natural, and positive law, it must be presumed
that subjects ought to be practised in arms, not only for defensive, but
also for offensive purposes, in order to shield the innocent and repulse
the wicked. I call all those who bring unjust war, and lay hands upon
the possessions of others, thieves and villains. If one must take
vengeance on thievish and predatory subjects, it follows that one must
also do so on foreigners who behave as such, whatever title of kingship
they bear. This obligation is founded on divine and natural law.

There are other and more particular considerations. In the first place,
the best way of preserving a state, and guaranteeing it against
sedition, rebellion, and civil war is to keep the subjects in amity one
with another, and to this end, to find an enemy against whom they can
make common cause. Examples of this can be found in all commonwealths.
The Romans are a specially good illustration. They could find no better
antidote to civil war, nor one more certain in its effects, than to
oppose an enemy to the citizens. On one occasion, when they were engaged
in bitter mutual strife, the enemy found his way into the city and
seized the Capitol. The citizens instantly composed their differences,
and united to expel the enemy... Without looking further afield, we have
an example in this kingdom when it was in grave peril in 1562. The
English set foot in France and seized Havre de Grace, whereupon the
civil war was abandoned, and the subjects united to make common cause
against the enemy. Perceiving which, the English resolved to leave the
French to fight one another, and wait till they were thereby altogether
ruined, when they might invade the kingdom without difficulty, or the
danger of encountering resistance. ...

Unrestrained freedom inflates men and encourages them to abandon
themselves to every sort of vice. Fear however keeps them mindful of
their duty. One can have no doubt that the great Ruler and Governor of
the whole world, in creating things so that each is balanced by its
contrary, permits wars and enmities between men to punish them the one
by the other, and keep all in fear, for fear is the sole inducement to
virtue. When Samuel addressed the people, he told them plainly that God
had raised up enemies against them to keep them humble, and to try,
prove, and punish them. These considerations serve to show how wrong are
those who say that the sole end of war is peace. ...

These arguments have a measure of truth, and are in part valid, and can
on the one side or the other blind the eyes of the most clear-sighted,
if one does not look too carefully into them. To resolve the problem
satisfactorily one must distinguish between the different kinds of
commonwealth. I hold that in a popular state it is expedient to train
the subjects to arms because of the weaknesses to which I infer popular
states are prone by their very nature. If the subjects are naturally
warlike and intractable, as are northern peoples, once they are trained
in the art of war and in military discipline, it is expedient to keep
them frequently engaged against an enemy, and only make peace, a
condition not adapted to a warlike people, on very advantageous terms.
Even when peace is concluded, an army must be maintained and kept on the
frontiers. This was Augustus' policy after he had converted a popular
state into a monarchy. The alternative is to hire them out to allied
princes, as the governments of the Confederates very wisely do, to keep
them practised in the military art. They have to deal with a mountain
population, apt for war and difficult to keep at peace, and used to the
enjoyment of popular liberty. By this policy they are always provided
with experienced soldiers, maintained at the expense of others, who at
the same time earn considerable subsidies for the state, and pensions
for individuals. Added to which their safety is assured by the alliances
thus formed with some puissant king.

As to fortifications, there is no need for the towns to be very heavily
fortified except the capital city, which is the seat of government in a
popular state. Even less is there any need of a multiplication of
castles and citadels. For one may be sure that ambition will move
someone or other to seize a fortified place, and then convert the
popular state into a monarchy, as did Dionysius the tyrant, after taking
Acradine in Syracuse ... In our own day Cosimo de' Medici, Duke of
Florence, constructed two citadels in Florence and garrisoned them with
foreigners, having found out that it was impossible to live secure in
the midst of his subjects once he had converted the popular state into a
monarchy. Such considerations explain why the Cantons of Uri,
Interwalden, Glarus, and Appenzel, which are extreme democracies, have
no fortified towns as have the others whose government is aristocratic.

The same considerations regarding fortresses hold good in aristocracies
as in popular states, for there is no less danger that one of the
seigneurs will make himself master of his colleagues. Indeed it is even
more to be feared in that it is easier for one of the seigneurs to
secure a following among the simple citizens and so make head against
the more powerful. Above all, in kingdoms which are long-established and
extensive, it is never expedient for the prince to erect citadels and
strongholds except on the frontiers, least his subjects suspect that he
intends to become their tyrant. But if he encircles his kingdom with
strong frontier posts, his subjects will believe that they are directed
against the enemy, and the prince, at need, can use them either to repel
the enemy, or master his subjects should they rebel. ...

So much for fortifications. It is much more difficult to determine, in
an aristocracy, whether it is better to arm only the governing class, or
the ordinary citizen as well, or to keep all indifferently unarmed. If
the lower classes are once armed, and not then constantly employed
against the enemy, there is no doubt that sooner or later they will try
to, and succeed in, changing the form of the government in order to have
a share themselves, as I have already shown. If only the ruling class is
armed, one day they will be defeated in the field, and again, this will
of necessity entail a change of government. If on the other hand they
prohibit the practice of military art altogether in the commonwealth,
they will by and by fall a prey to their neighbours, unless protected by
a close alliance with powerful friends, or unless their cities are
inaccessible and their fortifications impregnable. There is the example
of the Venetians. Fearful of the dangers I have described, they
prohibited the practice of arms altogether, as the Cardinal Contarini
has shown, though they achieved this only gradually over a period of
about two hundred years. They were once a belligerent people, and
sustained long wars, and beat the Genoese in set battles by sea and by
land. But since then they have enjoyed a long period of secure peace,
and have gradually abandoned the military arts, relying for their
assistance on foreigners... And if, as many think, one should only make
war to secure peace, and all that is required for the welfare of the
commonwealth is that by being well armed and fortified it can defend its
own against an enemy and enjoy the blessings of peace, the Republic of
Venice may be called happy. It is situated in an impregnable position,
and cares little for conquest, or the expansion of its territories. We
find that the Venetians have always avoided war like the plague, and
never wage it save in cases of extreme necessity, but seek peace at any
price, even at the cost of the loss and diminution of their domains ...
But such a policy seems contemptible to a warlike people, or an
ambitious prince, who cannot sue for peace at the hands of the enemy
without shame. ...

A wise prince should never permit the enemy to invade his kingdom if he
can by any means scatter their forces or check their advance before they
can cross the frontier, or at any rate unless he has a second army, and
some impregnable base to which he can retreat. Otherwise he risks all on
a single battle. This was the error of Antiochus, Perseus, and Ptolemy,
the last King of Egypt, in the war with the Romans; of Darius in the war
with Alexander, and the French time and time again in the wars with
England ... But Francis I took his army across the Alps in order to keep
his country free from war, and attacked the enemy in laying siege to
Pavia. Apart from the devastation which two powerful armies would have
caused in France, the capture of the King would have exposed the kingdom
to great danger. But happening, as it did, in Italy, and the victors
being at first content with their success, time was given to the King's
subjects to rally their forces and secure the frontiers ... I do not
wish to enter into any discussion of the art of war, for others have
treated of this subject.[13] I am only concerned with what touches the
state. I hold that the prince should provide for the thorough
fortification of his frontiers, and if he suspects that any enemy
contemplates invading his territory, he ought to anticipate him and wage
war as far from his own frontiers as possible. ...

Experienced statesmen separate the profession of arms from other
employments. In the Republic of Crete only certain persons were
permitted to bear arms, just as in France in ancient times only men
provided with a horse had such a duty, and the druids were exempt... For
this reason Plato divided the people into three classes of guardians,
warriors, and producers, following in this the example of the Egyptians
who distinguished three estates, according to employment. Gradually the
Athenians too separated the profession of arms from that of justice and
administration. The Romans did the same in the time of the Emperor
Augustus. He forbad to senators, proconsuls, and governors of provinces
the carrying of arms, so much so that in course of time non-military
offices came to be known as honours, as we may read in Cassiodorus'
letters, concerning the state of a provincial governor. In consequence
all nations in their turn separated the callings of arms, and of justice
and civil administration. For it is very difficult to excel in one
profession, and quite impossible in many. One cannot worthily fill many
offices. Furthermore it is almost impossible to train all the subjects
of a commonwealth in the use of arms, and at the same time keep them
obedient to the laws and to the magistrates. ...

This was the reason why Francis I disbanded the seven regiments each of
six thousand foot in 1534. Although his successor raised them again
eighteen years later, they had to be again disbanded because of the
disorders and riots they occasioned in various places. All the same, in
the opinion of foreign experts who had examined the ordinances
establishing these regiments, no better scheme could have been devised
for fostering the profession of arms. It is a policy more necessary to
this country than any other in the world, seeing that it is surrounded
by powerful neighbours who have the habit of raiding it as if it were
conquered territory. ...

In conclusion it seems to me that the well-ordered commonwealth of any
type whatsoever should keep its approaches and frontiers well fortified,
and should provide itself with an adequate force of trained fighting
men. These should be maintained by grants of land reserved for
combatants, but granted for life only, as was originally the practice
with fiefs and feudal lands, and as is still the practice with the
timars and timariots of Turkey, on condition that they serve four or at
the least three months of the year without pay, following ancient
custom. Moreover it must be emphasized that these holdings can no more
be made heritable, pledged, or alienated than can benefices.

Until the time that one can restore the original character of fiefs, a
certain number of regiments of foot soldiers and mounted men should be
raised, according to the importance, extent, and greatness of the
commonwealth. In time of peace these men should be trained in military
discipline from their youth up, in garrison duty on the frontiers, after
the example of the ancient Romans. The Romans did not even expect free
maintenance for their pains, much less the right to loot, rob, beat up,
and murder civilians as troops now do. A camp with them was a school of
honour, of sobriety, chastity, justice, and virtue, and no one was
allowed to avenge his own injuries or take the law into his own hands. 

In order to maintain this discipline, one should follow the Turkish
practice and reward good officers and men, especially when they grow
old, with certain exemptions, privileges, immunities, and benefits. It
is not excessive if a third part of the revenues are assigned to the
payment of the army, in order to secure that there are men ready for the
defence of the state when need arises, especially if the commonwealth is
an object of envy, and surrounded by warlike neighbours, as are the
people inhabiting the temperate and fertile regions of France, Italy,
Hungary, Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, Egypt, Persia, and the islands of
the Mediterranean. The people situated at the extremes of north and
south, such as the Ethiopians, Numidians, Negroes, Tartars, Goths,
Russians, Scots, and Swedes have no need of strong fortifications or
standing armies in times of peace, having no enemies other than
themselves. In any case the people of the extreme north are naturally
only too warlike. Most or all of them are horsemen and skilled in arms,
and need no special training for such pursuits, or to be set to fight,
unless it be to rid the country of those that cannot be induced to live
peaceably. ...

For the rest, the carrying of arms should be forbidden to all other
subjects in order that labourers and craftsmen should not be tempted to
desert the plough and the workshop and take to robbery. Not having any
experience of the proper use of weapons, when it is a question of
marching against the enemy, they either desert, or panic at the first
onset and throw the whole army into confusion. As Thomas More says in
his Republic, all the ancients and all wise captains agree that
craftsmen and men of sedentary occupations, used to security, are
totally unfitted for the business of war.

The keeping of Treaties and Alliances between Princes [CHAPTER VI] 

THIS discussion arises out of the foregoing, and must on no account be
omitted, seeing that writers on law and politics have never treated of
it, though there is no matter of state that more exercises the minds of
princes and rulers than the securing of treaties, whether with friends,
enemies, neutrals, or their own subjects. Some rely on mutual good faith
simply. Others demand hostages. Many add the surrender of fortified
places. Others cannot feel safe unless they totally disarm the
conquered. It it has always been considered that the best guarantee of a
treaty is ratification by a marriage alliance. But just as there is a
difference between friends and enemies, victors and vanquished, equals
in power and the weak, princes and subjects, so also must the forms of
treaties and their appropriate guarantees be diversified. But there is
one general and indisputable principle to be observed, and that is that
in all treaties there is no better guarantee of its observation than
that the clauses and conditions included in it should be suitable to the
parties concerned, and conformable to the matters in dispute. ...

As we have shown, true protection is given where a prince freely
undertakes to defend another without recompense of any kind.
Nevertheless for the better securing of these treaties of protection or
commendation, it is customary to offer a pension to the protector or
advocate, in the hope that the protector, being bound not only by his
oath, but by the payments received, will be more ready to succour his
adherent when need arises. It is true that the ancients never followed
such a proceeding. But now that honour is weighed against profit,
protection is sold for money. This is why a Salvian of Marseilles[14]
complains that when the weak seek the protection of the strong, they
have to part with all they have to secure it. One knows what enormous
sums the people of Lucca, Parma, and Siena, and many other towns,
disbursed for their protection.[15] Often enough the pension is paid not
so much to secure oneself against one's enemies, as against the
protector himself. This happened after the battle of Pavia. All the
rulers of Italy turned their attention to the Spaniards, and in order to
buy themselves off from the threat of invasion, put themselves under
their protection. ...

Treaties of protection expose the protected party to much greater risks
than any other kind of alliance, and therefore it is important that the
guarantees should be most carefully considered. For lack of such, how
often has one not seen an obligation to protect transformed into
sovereign rights. He feels safe indeed who commits the sheep to the care
of the wolf. It is therefore in the first instance important that
treaties of protection should be limited in time, even in the case of
aristocracies and popular states where the ruler never dies. For this
reason when Geneva put itself under the protection of Berne, the
citizens did not wish to bind themselves for more than thirty years. The
treaty expired in 1558, when Geneva proposed an alliance with Berne on
equal terms. This was only concluded with great difficulty, and only
after a crisis in which the city was nearly brought into subjection
through the machinations of certain citizens who paid the penalty with
their lives ... But the best guarantee for the protected party is to
prevent, if possible, the seizure of the fortresses of their towns by
the troops of the protector and the introduction of his garrisons into
them. The words of the Tribune Brutus to the nobles and people of Rome
should never be forgotten, that the only protection that the weak have
against the strong whom they fear, is that the latter should not be able
to harm them even if they wish to, for the desire to do harm is never
lacking in ambitious men who have power to inflict it. On these grounds
the Scots were wise when in the treaty which they made in 1559 with the
Queen of England, to secure her protection, they stipulated that the
hostages surrendered should be changed every six months, and that no
fortress should be constructed in Scotland without the consent of the
Scots themselves. ...[16] 

Many think that it is safest for a prince to adopt a policy of
neutrality, and so keep out of other people's wars. The principal
argument in support of this view is that whereas loss and expense is
shared in common, the fruits of victory all accrue to the ruler on whose
behalf the quarrel is sustained, added to which one must declare oneself
the enemy of princes who have in no way offended one's interests. But he
who remains neutral often finds means to reconcile enemies, and so
remains himself everyone's friend, and receives honours and rewards at
the hands of both parties. If all princes were aligned against one
another in hostile camps, who could compose their differences' And
again, what better way is there of maintaining one's state in all its
strength than to stand aside while one's neighbours ruin one another? In
truth, the greatness of a prince largely depends on the decline and fall
of his neighbours, and his strength is measured by other people's
weakness. ...

But the arguments on the other side appear stronger. First of all, in
matters of state one ought always to be either the stronger, or of the
stronger party. There are few exceptions to this rule, whether one is
considering a single commonwealth, or a number of princes. Otherwise one
falls a prey to the whim of the victor ... Without looking further
afield, we have the example of the Florentines. Having abandoned their
alliance with the French royal house, but at the same time refusing to
join the league of the Pope, the Emperor, the Kings of England and of
Spain, they almost immediately felt the evil effects of their
neutrality. Someone may object that it was not open to them to join the
League. That is true. But it was not open to them either to abandon
their obligations to an ally at will, as they did[17] ... One cannot
take up a neutral position if one owes assistance to one of the parties
under some treaty. The only way of remaining neutral without going in
fear of the victor is to secure the consent of the other parties to such
a course of action. In fact the duchies of Lorraine, Burgundy, and Savoy
maintained their independence so long as they followed a policy of
neutrality. But as soon as the Duke of Savoy took sides with the
Spaniards, the French drove him from his principality.[18] But there is
a great difference in being neutral because the friend of neither party,
and neutral because the ally of both. The latter situation is much the
safer, since one is secure from attack by the victors, and if any
treaties are agreed upon by the contending parties, one is included by
both sides.

If neutrality is to be commended in such a case, it is even more
laudable in a great prince who surpasses all others in power and
dignity. To him falls the honour of being judge and arbiter, for it
always happens that the quarrels between princes are composed by some
common friend, especially by those who stand above all the others in
greatness. In former times many popes, who rightly understood their
office, made it their business to reconcile Christian princes and
thereby win honour and respect, and favours and protection for their own
person and for their office. But those who took sides with one or other
party brought ruin on others. The Spaniards thought it very unfitting
that Alexander VI, himself a Spaniard by birth, should ally with Louis
XII against them. But when the Spaniards themselves had the mastery, he
said to the French ambassador that he considered it his role to remain
neutral. But it was a little late to try and extinguish the fire he had
kindled by putting on a show of piety. ...[19]

Good faith is little regarded by many princes in the alliances which
they make with one another. What is more, there are those so perfidious
that they only enter into solemn engagements with the intention of
deceiving, in this emulating the captain Lysander, who boasted that he
cheated adults by his sworn assurances, and children by his conjuring.
But God punished his perfidy according to his merits. Perjury is more to
be detested than atheism. Since the atheist does not believe in God, he
cannot sin so gravely against one in whose existence he does not
believe, as the man who does believe, and mocks God in perjuring
himself. Perjury therefore always implies impiety and a wicked heart,
for he who swears in order to deceive evidently mocks God, fearing only
his enemy. It would be better never to call God to witness, or that
power one believes to be God, only to mock Him, but only call oneself to
witness. That is what Richard, Count of Poitiers, son of the King of
England did when he confirmed the privileges of La Rochelle, he simply
added the words teste meipso.

Since faith is the sole foundation and prop of that justice on which all
commonwealths, alliances, and associations of men whatsoever, is
founded, it should be preserved sacred and inviolable in all cases where
no injustice is contemplated. This applies most particularly to the
relations between princes, for seeing that they are the guarantors of
good faith and sworn engagements, what assurance will those subject to
them have of their own mutual undertakings if the rulers themselves are
the principal breakers and violators of good faith? I have added, 'in
all cases where no injustice is contemplated', for it is a double sin to
engage one's faith to do an evil act. In such a case he who fails of his
promise, so far from being perfidious, is to be commended. In like case,
if the prince promises not to do something permitted by natural law, he
is not perjured if he breaks his oath. Even the subject is not foresworn
who breaks his oath regarding any action permitted by the law. But wise
princes should never bind themselves by oath to other princes to do
anything forbidden by natural law, or the law of nations, nor should
they ever compel princes weaker than themselves to swear to an agreement
quite unreasonable in its terms... Not that princes who fail to carry
out promises to their disadvantage, which have been exacted from them by
their conquerors, escape the dishonour of perjury, as certain doctors
argue. These doctors are as ill-informed about the character of the
commonwealth as they are about past history, and the true foundations of
justice. They treat engagements between sovereign princes as if they
were of the same order as contracts and agreements between private
citizens. The consequences have been most unfortunate. During the last
two to three hundred years this opinion has gained ground, with the
result that there has been no treaty, however beneficial, which has not
been infringed. It is remarkable that the first legislators and jurists,
and the Romans who were models of justice, never thought of such
subtleties. For it is very obvious that most treaties of peace are made
under constraint, from fear of the victor, or of him who is the stronger
party. What fear is more excusable than fear for one's life? Yet the
Consul Attilius Regulus, having sworn to the Carthaginians to return,
knowing that he was going to his death, took refuge in no such subtle
excuses. ...

Jurists rightly hold that faith is not to be kept with him who breaks
it. But they go further. They allege that by the decree of the Council
of Constance it was laid down that one is not bound to keep faith with
enemies of the faith. The Emperor Sigismund had pledged his word to
Wenceslas, King of Bohemia, and given a safe-conduct to John Huss and
Jerome of Prague, and therefore resisted proceedings against them. To
satisfy his conscience a number of jurists, canonists, and theologians,
especially Nicholas, Abbot of Palermo, and Luigi da Ponte surnamed

Romanus elaborated this opinion, and it was given the backing of a
decree published by the Council. John Huss and his companion were
executed, though neither the Council nor the Emperor had any
jurisdiction over them, and their natural lord, the King of Bohemia, did
not give his consent. But no attention was paid to these things. This is
no matter for surprise seeing that Bartolus, the first jurist of his
age, maintained that one was not bound to keep faith with individuals in
the enemy camp who were not responsible leaders. ...

But if faith should not be kept with the enemy, it ought never to be
pledged. On the contrary, if it is permissible to treat with the enemy,
it follows that one is bound to honour one's engagements to him. This
raises the question as to whether it is permissible to treat with pagans
and infidels, as the Emperor Charles V treated with the King of
Persia... The Kings of Poland, the Venetians, Genoese, and Ragusans, all
made similar alliances with them. The Emperor Charles V himself pledged
his word to Martin Luther, though he had been denounced as an enemy to
the faith in a Papal bull, that he might safely attend the Imperial Diet
at Worms in 1519. There van Eyck, seeing that Luther would not renounce
his opinions, cited the decree of Constance as grounds for proceeding
against him regardless of the pledged word of the Emperor. But there was
not a prince present that did not express horror at van Eyck's petition,
and in fact the Emperor dismissed Luther with a safe-conduct, and under
armed protection. I do not wish to discuss the merits of the decree, but
the opinion of Bartolus, and those who maintain that one need not keep
faith with the enemy is not worthy of formal refutation, so contrary is
it to ordinary common sense. ...

There have been no greater exponents of the principles of justice and
good faith than the ancient Romans. Pompey the Great treated with
sea-rovers and pirates, and allowed them to take refuge in certain towns
and territories where they could settle under the authority of Rome. But
he was well aware that the pirates had a fleet of nine hundred sail, and
access to some five hundred coastal towns and villages. Governors could
not reach their provinces, nor merchants carry on their business of
trading. War could not be made on such a power without exposing the
whole Roman state to danger, whereas its dignity was preserved intact by
this treaty. If he had not honoured the agreement he made with them, or
the Senate had refused to ratify the treaty, the honour of the Republic
would have been smirched, and the glory of Pompey's achievement
obscured. In normal circumstances however we do not hold that one should
either give or receive pledges where pirates are concerned, for one
should have no dealings with them, nor observe the rules of the law of
nations where they are concerned ... But once one has pledged one's
faith to an outlaw, one should keep the engagement. I can think of no
better instance of this than that afforded by the Emperor Augustus. He
caused it to be published, to the sound of trumpets, that he would give
twenty-five thousand scudi to anyone who could deliver to him Crocotas,
leader of the Spanish brigands. Crocotas, hearing of it, presented
himself before Augustus and claimed the reward of twenty-five thousand
scudi. Augustus ordered that he should be paid, and then granted him a
free pardon, in order to give a good example of keeping faith, for in
such matters the honour of God and of the Republic is involved. ...



1. In 1546 Charles brought a Spanish army under the Duke of Alva to
Germany to deal with the rebel Princes, which defeated them at the
battle of Mhlberg in 1547.

2. Many French armies perished before Naples. This is probably a
reference to the disastrous expedition under de Lautrec in 1528, an
incident in the war against Charles V for Italian territory.

3. The Imperial army that sacked Rome in 1527.

4. Bodin makes much use of his Storia d'ltalia, published in 1561, for
his treatment of Italian politics.

5. An Italian translation of the original Arabic, Descrittione dell'
Africa: e delle cose notabile che ivi sono, appeared in 1550, and a
French one, Historiale description de I'Afrique, in 1556.

6. The original Spanish appeared in a French translation as Histoire de
I'Ethiopie dcrite par dom. F. Alvarez en son voyage, 1566 and 1568. 

7. B. de las Casas, Brevissima relacon de la destruycon lie las Indas,
1552.

8. Frothe was a legendary King of Denmark, who appears in Saxo
Grammaticus, Historia Danerum (published 1514) as a pattern of the
primitive legislator.

9. Matthias Hunyady, surnamed the Just, for his great work of legal
reform. He was a prince of the renaissance, who preferred Italian models
in architecture, learning, and legal administration, to the traditional
feudal institutions of Hungary. Hence the measure of resistance referred
to by Bodin. 

10. In chapter III confiscations are discussed, with a view to showing
how dangerous and short-sighted is this form of revenue-hunting.

11. This must be Sir Thomas Randolph. He was sent twice to Paris on a
special mission, in 1573 and again in 1576. On each occasion he had some
private talks with the Duc d'Alenon, Bodin's patron.

12. Much of what Bodin had to say about the distribution of rewards must
have been inspired by dislike of developments in France, for Francis I
had systematized the traffic in offices, and in 1522 set up a special
Bureau des parties casuelles to administer it. Much opposition was
offered. Complaints were made already at the Estates of Tours in 1484.
The practice was forbidden by the Ordinance of Orleans in 1561 and that
of Moulins in 1566, and officials on appointment had to take an oath
that they had not purchased their offices. This was so flagrantly in
defiance of the facts that it was abolished in 1597. Heritability of
office was a consequence.

13. This chapter is largely based on Machiavelli's Arte delta guerra,
published in 1521, though characteristically adapted to Bodin's
political views.

14. A fifth-century Christian writer, whose book De Gubernatione Dei, a
jeremiad on the state of the world, was published in Basel in 1530.

15. To Charles V after his victory at Pavia, 1525.

16. A reference to the agreement made by the Duke of Norfolk on behalf
of the Queen with the Scots Lords in rebellion against the regent, Mary
of Guise, and in alliance with Knox. It was concluded in February 1560.

17. In 1512 a Papal-Spanish army compelled the re-admittance of the
Medici into Florence, whereupon the Republic collapsed. It is true
Florence had abandoned the French alliance, but since the French had
been driven entirely from Italy earlier in the year, they could have
done nothing in any case to save Florence.

18. Charles V brought Savoy over to an Imperial alliance by the marriage
of his sister-in-law, Beatrice of Portugal, with the Duke, thus closing
the route into Italy hitherto open to the French armies. Francis I
thereupon claimed the duchy, overran it and incorporated it in the
kingdom of France in 1536.

19. Alexander VI allied with France to facilitate the reduction of the
Romagna carried out by Cesare Borgia. Early in 1503 Louis XII prohibited
further conquests to him, and at the same time launched an expedition
against the Spaniards in Naples. Alexander excused himself from giving
assistance, having already opened secret negotiations with the Spanish
viceroy. But he died suddenly, and Cesare's power immediately crumbled,
later that summer.

____________

BOOK VI

The Census and the Censorship[1] [CHAPTER I]

... WE must now discuss the remaining term in our definition of the
commonwealth, namely what are those things which are of common interest.
The common interest is secured by the administration of the revenue, the
domain, rents, revenues, taxes, or imposts and other such charges
necessary for the maintenance of the commonwealth. We must therefore
first consider the census.

Rightly understood the word census means simply an assessment of each
individual's belongings. If we are going to discuss the revenue, we must
first enquire into the census, for of all the magistrates in a
commonwealth, none are more indispensable than those responsible for it.
If the necessity of their function is evident, even more so is its
utility, both in establishing the number and quality of persons, and the
amount and character of each individual's possessions, but also as a
means of disciplining and reprimanding the subject. It astonishes me
that so excellent an institution, at once so necessary and useful to the
commonwealth, should have been allowed to lapse, seeing that in ancient
times all Greek and Latin communities knew it... They spoke of it as a
divine institution, and one which preserved the greatness of the Roman
Empire, so long as the office retained its prestige. ...

The first advantage to be derived from taking a census relates to the
ordering of persons. If one knows the number, age, and status of all
one's subjects, one can judge how many can be called upon for military
service and how many must be left at home, how many can be despatched
abroad to found colonies and how many employed in forced labour upon
public works such as fortifications. One can also estimate the supply of
food necessary for the needs of the inhabitants of each town, especially
useful when one has to provision a town against a siege. None of these
things can be done well if one has no idea of the number and
distribution of the population. ...

But one of the most important good consequences of numbering the people
is that one can find out the standing and the calling of each
individual, and how he earns his living. This makes it possible to get
rid of those parasites which prey upon the commonwealth, to banish
idlers and vagabonds, the robbers and ruffians of all sorts that live
among good citizens like wolves among the sheep. One can find them out,
and track them down wherever they are.

A declaration of property is as necessary as a census of individuals...
Such a survey was made throughout the Roman Empire in order that the
burdens which each ought to bear could be fairly assessed. Such a
measure is even more necessary now when there are so many more charges
than the ancients ever knew. It is of the first importance that every
subject should be required to make a return of his property and his
revenues. This was done in Provence in 1471. It immediately became clear
that one third of the population bore all the burdens of the other two
thirds ... Such enquiries reveal the frauds and favours of the tax
collectors and assessors, whose duty it is to secure an equal
distribution of imposts.

The periodic reformation of abuses was one of the best and most
excellent measures that was ever introduced into any commonwealth, and
the one which most contributed to the preservation of the Roman Empire.
The censors were always elected from among the most upright men to be
found in the whole commonwealth, and they endeavoured to the utmost of
their powers to inculcate in the subject true sentiments of honour and
virtue. They carried out this duty every five years, after they had put
the finances in order and farmed out the domain. If at any time they
omitted the censorship, as occasionally happened during a long war, one
can see at a glance how the morals of the people declined, and the
commonwealth fell sick, like a body denied its customary purgations. ...

They concerned themselves always only with those abuses which did not
come before the courts. The magistrates and the people took cognizance
of murders, parricides, robberies, assaults, and such like crimes,
punishable by the laws. But someone might ask whether it is not
sufficient only to punish the crimes and misdemeanours forbidden by law.
I would answer however that the law only punishes those misdeeds which
trouble the public peace, but the most evil men often enough escape the
penalties of the law, like strong animals brushing aside spiders' webs.
What man is so mistaken as to measure honour and virtue solely by the
rules of the law? It is sufficiently obvious that the most detestable
vices that poison the whole body politic cannot be punished in the
courts. Perfidy, one of the most abominable of vices is never punishable
by law. But the censors, said Cicero, were more anxious to punish
perjury than anything else. Again, drunkenness, gambling, fornication,
and lust can be indulged in without check from the law. Who can remedy
this state of things but the censor? One sees also how most
commonwealths are afflicted with vagabonds, idlers, and ruffians who
corrupt good citizens by their deeds and their example. There is no
means of getting rid of such vermin save by the censor. 

There is however a more particular reason which makes the censorship
more necessary today than ever it was before. In ancient times each head
of a family had high, middle, and low justice; as father over his
children, as master over his slaves he had sovereign power, so to speak,
over life and death, without appeal. The husband had such authority over
his wife in four respects, as we have shown in its proper place. But now
that this condition of things no longer obtains, what justice can one
expect from the impiety of children towards their parents; from the
ill-regulated relations of married people, or contempt for masters? How
often do we see daughters sold or dishonoured by their own parents, so
that often enough they prefer to be cast off than to be married to the
husband chosen for them? There is no possible remedy save in the
establishment of a censorship.

I am not here concerned with the question of reverence towards God,
which should be the first and principal care of every family and every
commonwealth. This has always been the concern of popes, bishops, and
ministers of religion, to whom magistrates ought always to give every
assistance. For though the law of God commands that everyone should
attend divine worship at least at the three great festivals of the year,
one finds a great number who never do so at all. This neglect of
religion encourages the insidious growth of the detestable sect of
atheists. They have nothing but blasphemies on their lips, and despise
all laws equally, whether human or divine. From this state of affairs
follows an infinity of crimes such as murder, parricide, treason,
perjury, adultery, and incest. For one cannot expect princes and
magistrates to succeed in making those of their subjects who trample all
religion underfoot amenable to their own laws. This is a matter for
ministers and censors, who can appeal to divine laws where human laws
have lost their force. As Lactantius said 'those actions which fear of
the laws prevent are acts of violence, not sins. The laws can punish
crimes but cannot stir the conscience'.

One sees how much the education of young people is neglected nowadays,
though it should be one of the principal concerns of every commonwealth.
The young are tender plants, and must be raised with great care. But
what should be a matter of public policy is now left to each
individual's private discretion, and each does as he chooses, one one
thing and one another... All these things should depend on the care and
attention of censors, whose first concern should be to provide for the
education of the young, and teachers for this purpose. ...

But censors should not be given any powers of jurisdiction, for their
activities should not be encumbered by legal proceedings. The Roman
censor had no jurisdiction, but a word, a look, a stroke of the pen from
him inspired a more lively dread than all the sentences and penalties of
the magistrates. ... 

It is not my intention to discuss the justification of ecclesiastical
jurisdiction. But such as it is, there is a danger of it disappearing
and with it the Church's power of censure, as a result of its excessive
use. Such censure used always to be remarkably effective. The Druids of
old, who were sovereign judges and high priests in Gaul, excommunicated
kings and princes who would not obey their injuctions. Among Christians
ecclesiastical censure has maintained discipline and good morals for
many centuries. Tyrants have been made to tremble before it, and kings
and princes have been brought to reason. Their crowns have been struck
from off their heads and their sceptres out of their hands. Kings have
been constrained to make peace or war, to reform their way of living, or
amend their laws. History is full of such occasions. The outstanding
instances are the censuring of Theodosius by St. Ambrose, and of Lothar
by Nicholas I, and the excommunication of Louis VII of France by
Innocent. ...

Priests, bishops, and popes have always claimed the censorship of morals
and religion, as a matter not pertaining to judges and magistrates,
except by way of executing sentence. But elders and overseers have
exercised the same prerogative in many places, a very necessary
concession where there are no censors, both for regulating the morals of
the people and superintending them diligently, and to support the
authority of pastors, bishops, and ministers, for they cannot be too
highly honoured and respected for the dignity and responsibility of
their office. God in His wisdom so provided, appointing ministers, and
giving the prerogative of honour over all the rest to the tribe of Levi,
and among the Levites, to the house of Aaron who were all priests,
giving them the tithe of all cattle, harvests, and inheritances,
together with many honours and privileges. By an article of the divine
law, the man who disobeyed the High Priest was adjudged worthy of death.

Those who wish to diminish the estate of bishops, ministers, and
overseers, and deprive them of their powers of ecclesiastical censure,
their possessions and their privileges, to trample them underfoot,
dishonour God, and destroy all religion. This important question was in
part the reason why the chief minister of Lausanne left the town, for
the governing bodies of the confederate states would not submit to the
censorship of the elders. One must in that case institute special
censors. The governing body of Geneva has however reserved this
prerogative to bishops, ministers, and elders. They have corporate
rights, and can, in their consistory, censure morals. They have no
jurisdiction, or power of compulsion, or of execution, either themselves
or in the persons of the public officials. But in case of disobedience
they excommunicate. This involves the most serious consequences, for the
excommunicate, after a certain lapse of time, is liable to a criminal
prosecution before the magistrates, by the Inquisitor of the faith.
There is the same system in the Catholic Church, but proceedings are not
there so expeditious. ...

I leave it to wiser heads then mine to decide whether one should divide
temporal censorship in matters touching morals and other matters
remarked on, from ecclesiastical censorship, or to unite the two. But it
is better to let bishops and ministers exercise both than to deprive
them of such powers altogether, and so deny the commonwealth that which
is most necessary to its welfare. One sees commonwealths that have such
an institution nourish in laws and morals. Licence, usury, excesses of
all sorts are prevented; blasphemers, ruffians, idlers, expelled. One
cannot question that commonwealths that employ these measures of censure
are lasting, and fortified by all the virtues. But once the censure is
neglected, laws, virtue, and religion are despised, as happened in Rome
a short time before the Empire collapsed in ruins. ...

The Revenues [CHAPTER II]

... THERE are, generally speaking, seven sources of revenues which
include all the possible sources that one can well imagine. The first is
the public domain, the second the profits of conquests, the third gifts
from friends, the fourth tribute from allies, the fifth the profits of
trading ventures, the sixth customs on exports and imports, and the
seventh taxes on the subject. The first, which is the domain, appears to
be the most defensible and the most reliable of all sources of income.
We read that all ancient kings and legislators who founded commonwealths
or planted colonies, besides public buildings such as roads, temples,
and theatres, assigned certain lands to the commonwealth which belonged
to all in general, and these they called common lands. Other lands were
farmed or leased to private individuals for a term of years, or in
perpetuity, and the rents of these lands were paid into the treasury for
the discharge of the expenses of the commonwealth. We read, for
instance, that Romulus, founder of Rome and the Roman Republic, divided
the whole territory into three parts, assigning one third for the upkeep
of the Church, a second as the public domain, and the rest was divided
among private individuals. ...

In order that princes should not be constrained to burden their subjects
with imposts, or devise excuses for confiscating their possessions, all
kings and people have taken it for a universal and unchallengeable rule
that the public domain should be sacred, inviolable, and inalienable,
either through contract or prescription. Kings therefore even in this
kingdom, issuing letters patent for the recovery of domain, declare that
on their accession to the throne they took an oath never to alienate the
domain. If it has been alienated, even according to the proper legal
forms, and in perpetuity, it nevertheless remains susceptible of
recovery, so that prescription of one hundred years, which normally
constitutes a title to possession, does not hold for the domain. Edicts,
judgements, and ordinances on the subject are sufficiently familiar in
this kingdom, not only directed against private citizens, but even
against Princes of the Blood who have been deprived of domainal lands
after a hundred years' prescription. This is not a rule peculiar to this
kingdom, but is a custom binding on the Kings of Spain, Poland, and
England, for they also are required to take an oath against alienating
the domain. The rule is also observed in aristocracies and popular
states ... It is therefore never permissible for sovereign princes to
misappropriate the revenues from the domain. They have not the right of
usufruct, but simply of administration, and they must, once the expenses
of maintaining the commonwealth and their own estate are met, reserve
the rest for some public necessity ...

It is to be observed however that the conservation of the domain is much
better secured in a monarchy than in an aristocracy or a popular state.
There the magistrates and collectors of taxes are only concerned to
convert what belongs to the public to their own private advantage, and
each thinks only either of gratifying his friends, or of winning popular
favour at the public expense. ...

The second means of replenishing the treasury is by the profits of
foreign conquests ... When William the Conqueror subjugated the realm of
England, he declared the whole country in general, and the estates of
each particular person forfeit to him by the conventions of war, and he
treated the English simply as his tenants. The Romans were more
civilized and farseeing in this respect, for they despatched colonists
for whose benefit a proportion only of the land was confiscated. In this
way they got rid of the indigent, disorderly, and idle elements among
their own people, and at the same time planted settlements among the
conquered people. Subsequent intermarriage bred mutual trust, so that
the conquered came to submit to Rome willingly. The world was thus
populated with colonies of Romans to the enhancing of their reputation
for justice, wisdom, and power. Nowadays most victorious princes
establish garrisons of professional soldiers, who think only of
pillaging and so exasperate the subject population into revolt. If Roman
examples had been followed when the French conquered Naples and Milan,
these cities would still be obeying our kings. ...

The third means of increasing the revenues is by gifts, furnished by
friends or subjects. There is not much to be said about this, for it is
not a certain source of income. Few princes offer such gifts, and still
fewer receive them without returning some equivalent... As to gifts
offered by subjects, such as the Romans called oblations, one very
seldom hears of them these days, for so-called free gifts are for the
most part compulsive. ...

The fourth resource is the pension received from an ally. These are paid
in time of peace as well as war to secure defence or protection against
enemies, or aid and assistance of any sort at need, according to the
terms of the treaty ... By the terms of the treaties of alliance between
the King of France and the Swiss, the king gave to each Canton a pension
of one thousand livres to secure peace with them, and a pension of two
thousand livres for their active co-operation, besides extraordinary
payments. He also undertook to pay the expenses in war, and the salaries
of those who entered his household, or acted as his bodyguard. By these
terms it was clear that the Swiss were the king's pensioners. ...

The fifth expedient is for the prince or the signory to engage in
commerce ... Everyone knows how for the last century, ever since the
discovery of the gold mines and other riches of Guinea, and of the
spices of Calicut and the East twelve years later, the Kings of Portugal
have engaged in trade with such success that they have made themselves
masters of the best harbours of Africa, occupied the island of Ormuz in
the teeth of the opposition of the Shah of Persia, and subjected a great
part of Morocco and Guinea ... But of all forms of traffic in which a
prince can engage, the sale of honours, offices, and benefices is the
most pernicious and sordid, as I have already said. ...

The augmentation of the revenue by charging the merchants who import and
export commodities is one of the oldest and commonest customs of
commonwealths. It is founded in equity, for it is reasonable that the
man who wants to make his profit out of the subjects of another should
pay some duty to the prince or the people, as the case may be... One
should go upon the principle of increasing the export duties, payable by
foreigners, on things they cannot well do without, for this both
increases the revenues, and helps the subject. The customs on raw
materials imported from abroad should be lowered, and that on
manufactured articles increased, and their import from abroad, or the
export from this country of such raw materials as iron, hides, steel,
wool, linen thread, raw silk, and such like should be prohibited
altogether. In this way the subject makes his profit on the manufactured
article, and the prince on the customs. Such a prohibition was imposed
in 1563 by Philip II of Spain, as an act of retaliation against a
similar measure of the Queen of England three years earlier. ...

The last method of raising revenue is to tax the subject. One should
never have recourse to it till all other measures have failed, and only
then because urgent necessity compels one to make some provision for the
commonwealth. In such a case, seeing that the security and defence of
each private citizen depends on the preservation of the common good,
each individual must be prepared to assist in the matter. In such a
crisis, taxes and impositions are most just, for nothing is more just
than that which is necessary, as a Roman senator once observed.
Nevertheless, in order to secure that an extraordinary tax, imposed in
time of war, should not be continued in peace time, it is better to
impose it in the form of a forced loan. Moreover the money comes in more
readily when the payer hopes both to receive his money back again
sometime, and to enjoy the distinction of having made a contribution ...
Louis IX was the first to levy a general tax, as President Le Matre has
shown. The President did not add however that it took the form of an
extraordinary subsidy in time of war, justified by necessity, and never
became part of the ordinary revenues. On the contrary, St. Louis in his
testament addressed Philip, his elder son and successor in these words:
'Be devout in the service of God; be merciful and charitable at heart to
the poor, and comfort them with your assistance; keep the good laws of
your kingdom; do not levy taxes or impositions on your subjects, unless
urgent and evident necessity forces you to it, and for some just cause,
but not arbitrarily. If you do otherwise, you will not have the
reputation of a king, but of a tyrant. ... '

It was declared by the estates of this realm, in the presence of King
Philip of Valois in the year 1338, that he could not levy any tax on his
people without their consent ... This rule has always been observed, and
is also a well established custom in Spain, England, and Germany. At the
Estates of Tours, assembled in the time of Charles VIII, Philippe de
Comines declared that there was nowhere a prince who had power to levy
taxes on his subjects, nor could he acquire such a right by
prescription, without their consent. ...

If anyone asks what form taxes should take which are to redound to the
honour of God, and the profit of the commonwealth, to the satisfaction
of men of substance, and the relief of the poor, I suggest that they
should be levied on those commodities which corrupt the subject. Taxes
should be raised on luxuries and ornaments of all sorts, perfumes, cloth
of gold and silver, silk, lace, fine tissues, gold and silver enamel.
They should also be charged on all unnecessary articles of clothing, and
on scarlet, crimson, and cochineal dyes and so forth. One should not
prohibit the sale of these articles. Men are so made by nature that they
find nothing more attractive than that which is strictly forbidden. The
more superfluities are denied to them, the more earnestly are they
desired, especially by giddy and unstable natures. It is better to make
such things so expensive by heavy taxes that only the very rich and
indulgent can afford them. ...

There is also the problem of the right use of the public revenues. The
upkeep of the king's household should first be provided for.

That secured, and the army and the officers of the crown paid regularly,
all poor subjects will benefit. If funds then permit, part should be
employed in constructing fortifications in strategic positions on the
frontiers, making roads, building bridges, chartering ships, erecting
public buildings, founding colleges of learning and of honour. This work
of upkeep is not only necessary, but it redounds to the profit of the
whole commonwealth. Crafts and craftsmen are encouraged, and the
necessities of the poor relieved. Moreover the unpopularity of taxation
is mitigated when the ruler sees to it that the money he takes from his
subjects is used for the benefit of all in general, and each in
particular. ...

A Comparison of the three Legitimate Types of Commonwealth, Popular,
Aristocratic, and Monarchical, concluding in favour of Monarchy [CHAPTER
IV][2]

WE have now discussed the commonwealth fairly fully from all points of
view. It remains to draw our conclusions, that is to say to consider the
advantages and disadvantages of each type, and then pronounce on the
best. This can only properly be done after one has discussed all aspects
of the commonwealth, both general and particular ... Tyranny in a prince
is evil, but it is even worse where many rule. As Cicero says, there is
no more remorseless tyranny than that of the people. All the same it is
a condition of things to be preferred to anarchy, where there is no form
of a commonwealth whatsoever, and where none can command, and none are
obliged to obey. Let us avoid such evil conditions as these, and
consider which is the best of the three legitimate forms of
commonwealth, that is to say a popular state, an aristocracy, or a royal
monarchy. In order to make my conclusions quite clear, I shall first set
out the arguments for and against each type.

In the first place it can be argued that the popular state is the most
to be esteemed since it aims at an indifferent and equal rule of law,
without favour or exception of persons. In such a state civil
constitutions are brought into conformity with the laws of nature. In
equalizing men it follows the order of nature, under which riches,
estates, and honours are not attributed to one more than to another.
Similarly, in a popular state all enjoy equality in respect of goods,
honours, and legal rights, without any being privileged or entitled to
prerogatives... For instance, when Lycurgus converted the monarchy into
a popular state, he burnt all records of debts, forbad the use of gold
or silver, and divided the land into equal lots. It gave him great
satisfaction to see an equal harvest gathered in from each holding. By
such means the two most ruinous plagues of the commonwealth, the avarice
of some and the arrogance of others, were avoided. By such means also he
got rid of all thefts and robberies, disorders, libels, parties and
factions, for such cannot develop where all are equal, and no one has
the advantage over another. Again, if friendship is the necessary
foundation of human society, and if equality is a condition of
friendship, since there is no equality except in a popular state, it
follows that this is the best form of the commonwealth, and ought to be
preferred to all others. In it is to be found natural liberty, and equal
justice for all, without fear of tyranny, cruelty or oppression, and the
charms of a social intercourse open to all alike, which would seem to
secure to men that felicity that nature intended for them. But there is
an even stronger argument to prove that the popular state is the best,
most worthy and most perfect form, and that is that democracies have
generally produced the men who have most excelled in arms and in
justice, the greatest orators, jurists, and craftsmen. In other
commonwealths, factions among the ruling class, or the king's jealous
regard for his own honour and glory, have discouraged subjects from
attempting anything outstanding. And finally, it would seem that a
popular state alone bears the true mark of a commonwealth. In it
everyone partakes in the common good, having a share in the common
property, the spoils of war, public honours, and conquered territory,
whereas in an aristocracy a handful of the upper class, in a monarchy a
single person, appear to convert what should be enjoyed in common to
their private advantage. Briefly, if what is most to be hoped for in the
commonwealth is that magistrates should be subject to the laws, and the
subjects to the magistrates, this seems best secured in a popular state
where the law is lady and mistress of all.

These are the principal arguments in favour of the popular state. They
appear conclusive, but in effect are no better than spiders' webs,
glittering, subtle, and fine-drawn, but of no strength. In the first
place, there has never been a commonwealth in which it has been found
possible to preserve equality of property and of honours. With regard to
honours, such equality is contrary to the laws of nature, for by nature
some are wiser and more inventive than others, some formed to govern and
others to obey, some wise and discreet others foolish and obstinate,
some with the ascendancy of spirit necessary to guide and command
others, some endowed only with the physical strength to execute orders.
As to natural liberty, which is so much cried up in the popular state,
if such a condition were realized anywhere, it would preclude the
existence of any magistrates, laws, or form of state, since such
presuppose inequalities. As for the common good, it is quite clear that
there is no form of commonwealth where it is less regarded than in a
popular state. ...

All those who have discussed the subject are agreed that the end of all
commonwealths is the encouragement of honour and virtue. But a popular
state is hostile to men of reputation. The preservation of a popular
state, according to Xenophon, depends on the promotion of the most
vicious, and least worthy, to all honours and offices. If the people are
so ill-advised as to bestow honourable charges and dignities on upright
and virtuous men, they lose their ascendancy. Honest men advance others
like themselves, and such people only ever form a small handful of the
community. The bad and the vicious, who are the great majority, are
denied advancement, and gradually deprived and superseded by just and
upright judges. In this way the best men come to control the state, and
take it out of the hands of the people. For this reason, said Xenophon,
the Athenians always gave audience to the most evil, knowing full well
that they would say those things which were welcome and useful to the
wicked men who made up the majority of the people. 'This is why', he
said 'I blame the Athenians, for having chosen the worst form of
commonwealth there is, but having chosen it, I commend them for
conducting their affairs the way they did, that is to say for resisting,
persecuting, and banishing the noble, the wise, and the virtuous, and
for advancing the impudent, vicious, and evil. For the vice', he said,
'which you denounce so severely is the very foundation of the popular
state.' As for justice, he thought that they cared nothing for it. They
were only anxious to secure the profits of selling to the highest
bidder, and to find means of ruining the rich, the noble, and the
incorruptible. Such men they harassed without any justification, because
of the hatred they felt for a type quite contrary to their own natural
temperament. For this reason a popular state is always the refuge of all
disorderly spirits, rebels, traitors, outcasts, who encourage and help
the lower orders to ruin the great. The laws they hold in no esteem, for
in Athens the will of the people was law. Such was Xenophon's judgement
on the Athenian republic, which was the best-ordered of any popular
state of its times, and he did not see how it could be in the least
changed if the people were to be continued in authority ... Those who
praise the Roman Republic to the skies should remember the disorders and
evil commotions to which it was a prey. ...

Someone may quote against me the case of the Swiss republics. There you
have admirable popular states which have nourished for upwards of three
hundred years. They have not only rid themselves of tyrants, but helped
to free their neighbours too. But I think the reason is first that a
popular form of government is suited to the temperament of the
inhabitants, as I said before, and second, that the most restless and
intractable go abroad and take service with foreign princes. Those that
remain at home are the more peaceable and manageable, and have little
desire to concern themselves with politics. ...

The ability to command cannot be made equal, as the citizens of popular
states desire, for we all know that some have no more judgement than
brute beasts, while in others the illumination of divine reason is such
that they seem angels rather than men. Yet those who want to make all
things equal want to give sovereign authority over men's lives, honour,
and property, to the stupid, ignorant, and passionate, as well as to the
prudent and experienced. In popular assemblies votes are counted, not
weighed, and the number of fools, sinners, and dolts is a thousand times
that of honest men. ...

I have said all this to bring out the disadvantages of the popular
state, and to induce a little reason in those who would incite subjects
against their natural prince, in the illusory hope of enjoying liberty
under a popular government. But unless its government is in the hands of
wise and virtuous men, a popular government is the worst tyranny there
is.

Let us now see whether aristocracy is better than the others, as some
think. If we adopt the principle that the mean between two undesirable
extremes is the best, it follows that if such extremes are to be
avoided, the mean is aristocracy, where neither one nor all have
sovereign power, but a small number ... There is another argument of
equal weight in favour of aristocracy, and that is that the right of
sovereign command ought, by the light of natural reason to go to those
most worthy of it. But worth must be identified with virtue, nobility,
or riches, or all three. Whether one thinks it should be any one of
these, or a combination of all three, the result is still an
aristocracy. For the well-born, the rich, the wise, the worthy are
always the minority among the citizens, wherever you go. Natural reason
would thus seem to indicate that an aristocracy where a group of
citizens, and that a minority, govern, is the best. More properly
speaking it is the state in which only the most worthy are admitted as
rulers. One can even argue that this means that government should be in
the hands of the wealthy, since they are most concerned for the
preservation of the commonwealth. They are interested because they
undertake much heavier burdens than the poor, who having nothing to lose
by it, back out of responsibility at will. For this reason Q. Flaminius
bestowed sovereign power on the richest towns in Thessaly because, as he
said, they had most interest in preserving the state. Moreover it would
seem that aristocracy is necessarily the best state, for in either a
popular state or a monarchy, though in appearance sovereignty belongs
either to the people or the king, in effect they are compelled to leave
government in the hands of the senate or the privy council which
deliberate, and often enough determine, all important affairs of state.
In fact, all types are in reality aristocratic. If the people or the
king is so ill-advised as to govern in any other way than through the
advice of a wise council, ruin must inevitably follow.

Nevertheless all these reasons do not seem to me to add up to a
sufficient total. The golden mean that everyone is looking for is not
secured by a numerical calculation, but in the sphere of morals means
the rule of reason, as all the philosophers agree ... The same
disadvantages that we have noticed in the case of popular states
characterize aristocracies, as a result of the multiplication of rulers.
The greater the number of those that rule, the more opportunities are
there for faction, the more difficult it is to arrive at any agreement,
and the more irresponsible are the decisions taken. In consequence the
aristocracies which have been the most lasting and the most stable have
been those that have been ruled by the fewest in number. The thirty in
Sparta, and the twenty or so in Pharsalia long maintained their
authority. Others have not been so lasting ... It is very difficult for
a handful of rulers to preserve their authority over a whole people who
have no share in the honours of office, especially as the ruling class
generally despise the populace, and the poor feel a deadly hatred of the
rich. On the least disagreement between members of the ruling class --
inevitable if they are naturally enterprising and aggressive -- the most
factious and ambitious go over to the people, and subvert the
aristocratic form of the government. This has been the most frequent
cause of the ruin of seigneuries such as those of Genoa, Siena, Florence
... In the state of fear in which they live, the ruling class do not
dare to train their subjects to arms. They cannot go to war without
being in danger of losing their authority should they lose a single
battle. They cannot secure themselves against their enemies, and live in
perpetual dread of defeat. A popular state is not exposed to such
dangers, since everyone has a share in power. Therefore an aristocracy
is in danger not only from foreign enemies, but also from their own
subjects whom they must satisfy, or hold down by force. It is extremely
difficult to satisfy them without admitting them to the estates, and
impossible to concede honourable charges to them without converting the
aristocracy into a popular state. As for holding them down by force, it
offers no security, even when it can be done. It means inspiring fear
and mistrust in those whom one should win over by services and
patronage, otherwise the most insignificant foreign attack against the
state, or the least disagreement within the ruling class, means that the
people take up arms in the hope of shaking off their yoke. For this
reason, in order to preserve their aristocratic form of state, the
Venetians threw open certain minor offices to the people, intermarried
with them, created a state debt to give them a vested interest in the
regime, and totally disarmed them. ...

It is obvious then that the principal foundation of an aristocracy is
the preservation of concord within the ranks of the ruling class. If
they can maintain their solidarity, they can maintain their government
much better than can the people. But if they allow factions to develop,
there is no form of government more difficult to maintain, for the
reasons I have given, especially if it is a military aristocracy, for
nothing is more contrary to the temper of such than the preservation of
peace. It is not to be wondered at that the aristocracies of Venice,
Ragusa, and Lucca have endured for so many centuries, for they renounced
all armed enterprises, and occupied themselves exclusively with commerce
and banking. ...

There remains monarchy to be considered. All great men have preferred it
to any other form. Nevertheless it is beset by many dangers, for even
when the succession of a new king means a change from a bad king to a
good, or from a good king to a better, there is necessarily a change in
the seat of sovereignty, and such a change is critical in all kinds of
commonwealth. It is a matter of common experience that when a new prince
succeeds, all sorts of new plans, new laws, new officials, new friends,
new enemies, new customs, new social habits spring up. Most princes are
pleased to introduce novelties of all sorts, just to get themselves
talked about. This often entails the most serious consequences, not only
for their individual subjects, but for the whole body of the
commonwealth. Even when a prince is the wisest of men, and does not
behave in this manner, the alliances and peace settlements made by his
predecessor are dissolved by his death. That being so, neighbouring
princes take up arms, and the stronger attacks, or dictates terms to the
weaker. This cannot happen to the undying sovereigns of popular and
aristocratic states, for they can make perpetual alliances ... The other
drawback to monarchy is the danger of civil war between aspirants to the
crown, especially where it is elective. This has often brought ruin on
the state. Even when the crown is hereditary there is no little danger
when there is a dispute between claimants of the same degree of
relationship. Assassinations follow, and divisions among the subjects,
and often the legitimate heir is expelled by the man with the worse
title. We have had only too many examples of this before our eyes. Even
when the succession is not in question, if the king is under age there
are conflicts about the regency, either between the Queen Mother and
Princes of the Blood, or among the Princes themselves. When God intended
to punish the sins of the people, he threatened them with women and
children as rulers ... Even if a people enjoys the greatest blessing it
can hope for -- and this seldom happens -- and the prince on his
accession is of mature years and experienced in affairs, nevertheless
the enjoyment of sovereign power too often has the unhappy effect of
making fools of wise men, cowards of brave ones, wicked men of honest.
There have been too many instances for any examples to be necessary. ...

Such are the dangers inherent in the monarchical form of government.
They are great enough. But they are not so great as those which threaten
an aristocracy, and even less than those that threaten popular states.
Most of these dangers are avoided when the monarchy passes by hereditary
succession, as we shall show in its proper place. Sedition, faction,
civil war are a perpetual threat to all types of commonwealth, and the
struggle for power in aristocracies and popular states is frequently
much more bitter than in a monarchy. In a monarchy conflict over office
and over political power only breaks out openly on the death of the
prince, and then not very often.

The principal mark of a commonwealth, that is to say the existence of a
sovereign power, can hardly be established except in a monarchy. There
can only be one sovereign in the commonwealth. If there are two, three
or more, not one of them is sovereign, since none of them can either
impose a law on his companions or submit to one at their instance.
Though one can imagine a collective sovereign power, vested in a ruling
class, or a whole people, there is no true subject nor true protector if
there is not some head of the state in whom sovereign power is vested,
who can unite all the rest. A simple magistrate, not endowed with
sovereign authority, cannot perform this function. Moreover if the
ruling class, or the people are, as often happens, divided, the dispute
can only be settled by force, and by one taking up arms against another.
Even when the majority is agreed, it can easily happen with a people
that the minority have considerable resources, and choose a leader whom
they force upon the majority, and so carry all before them. We have
plenty of evidence of the difficulties that arise in aristocracies and
popular states when there is a divergence of opinion and diverse views
taken by the magistrates. Some want peace, some war; some want this law,
some another; some this president, some that, some alliance with the
King of France, others with the King of Spain ... Again, in a popular or
aristocratic state numbers always carry the day. But the wise and
virtuous are only a small minority in any community, so that for the
most part the more reasonable and discrete are compelled to give way to
the majority, at the dictation of some impudent tribune or envious
demagogue. But the sovereign monarch can seek the support of the smaller
and wiser part, and choose expert advisers, experienced in affairs of
state. In popular and aristocratic states, wise and foolish alike have
to be admitted to the estates and to the councils.

It is impossible for a people or an aristocracy themselves to issue
sovereign commands, or give effect to any project which requires a
single person to undertake it, such as the command of an army and such
like matters. They have to appoint magistrates or commissaires to this
end, and these have neither the sovereign power, the authority, nor the
majesty of a king. Whatever powers they have in virtue of their
sovereignty, when popular or aristocratic states find themselves engaged
in a perilous war either with a foreign enemy, or with one another, or
in difficulty in bringing some overmighty subject to justice, in
securing public order in times of calamity, in instituting magistrates,
or undertaking any other weighty matter, they set up a dictator as
sovereign ruler. They thereby recognize that monarchy is the sacred
anchor on which of necessity, all must in the last instance rely. ...

There are many who make the mistake of thinking that an aristocracy is
the best kind of state because many heads better than one in all matters
requiring judgement, experience, and good counsel. But there is a great
difference between counsel and command. It is better to take the opinion
of many than of one in all matters of counsel, for it is said that many
understand better than one. But for taking a decision and issuing an
order, one is always better than many. He can think over the advice that
each has given and then reach a decision without being challenged. Many
cannot achieve this so easily. Moreover ambition is unavoidable where
there are several rulers sharing power equally, and there are always
some who would rather see the commonwealth ruined than recognize that
another was wiser than they. Others recognize it well enough, but pride,
and fear for their reputation, prevents them from changing their
opinions. In fact it is necessary that there should be a sovereign
prince with power to make decisions upon the advice of his council. It
is impossible that the commonwealth, which is one body, should have many
heads, as the Emperor Tiberius pointed out to the Senate.

It is said that new princes run after novelties. If it is true that
some, in order to make their power felt, published new laws with and
without reason, this evil is much more characteristic of popular and
aristocratic states. Magistrates who are in the place of kings in such
commonwealths, but have only a very short term of office, are consumed
with anxiety lest their year of authority should pass by without
anything having been accomplished for which they could be well or ill
spoken of. More laws were published in Rome and Athens than all the rest
of the world put together. From jealousy of their predecessors
magistrates continually undid their work, and always to get credit for
themselves, and to steal honour from their compatriots at the expense of
the commonwealth. In order to circumvent such dangerous and insatiate
ambition, in popular and aristocratic states the name of the magistrate
proposing it should not be prefixed to a law, as was the practice in
Rome and Athens. This was the cause of such an excess of law-making.

It is not true to say that alliances and treaties of peace perish with
the prince who made them. This does not always happen, for the terms may
include a clause relating expressly to the life-time of the prince, and
for a certain number of years after his death. In the treaties between
the Kings of France and the Confederates it is always laid down that the
alliance shall continue for the lifetime of the prince and for five
years after his death. Moreover as we have already said, it is better
that alliances should not be perpetual. For this reason even
aristocracies and popular states frequently limit their alliances to a
certain term of years. ...

There is no need to insist further that monarchy is the best form,
seeing that the family, which is the true image of the commonwealth has
only one head, as we have shown. All the laws of nature point towards
monarchy, whether we regard the microcosm of the body, all of whose
members are subject to a single head on which depend will, motion, and
feeling, or whether we regard the macrocosm of the world, subject to the
one Almighty God. If we look at the heavens we see only one sun. We see
that even gregarious animals never submit to many leaders, however good
they may be ... Moreover we may observe that all the peoples of this
world since the most ancient times adopted the monarchical form of
commonwealth by the light of natural reason. One hears nothing of
aristocracies, much less of popular states among the Assyrians, Medes,
Persians, Egyptians, Indians, Parthians, Macedonians, Celts, Gauls,
Scythians, Arabs, Turks, Muscovites, Tartars, Poles, Danes, Spaniards,
English, Africans, and inhabitants of Persia. Even the ancient
inhabitants of Greece and Italy were ruled by kings alone until they
were corrupted and degraded by ambition. It is a matter of wonder that
the popular state of the Romans and the aristocracies of Sparta and
Venice have endured for so long as four hundred years. There is reason
to wonder how it came about that two or three republics among a hundred
others managed to survive for several centuries, seeing that their form
is contrary to the course and order of nature. But no one is surprised
to see many great and powerful monarchies maintain themselves in all
their glory for a thousand or twelve hundred years, for they are ordered
according to the laws of nature. ...

It seems to me that for these reasons, and for others that one need not
go in to, it is clear that of the three types of commonwealth monarchy
is the most excellent. Among those that are not so well regulated,
democracy is the most perverted. The true monarchical state, like a
strong and healthy body, can easily maintain itself. But the popular
state and the aristocracy are weak and subject to many ills, and must be
supported by strict diet and discipline. It is not however always in the
power of even wise men, and those practised in affairs of state, either
to choose the best or avoid the worst ... The statesmen, the
philosophers, theologians, and historians who have praised monarchy
above every other form of state, have not done so to flatter the prince,
but to secure the safety and happiness of the subject. But if the
authority of the monarch is to be limited, and subjected to the popular
estates or to the senate, sovereignty has no sure foundations, and the
result is a confused form of popular state, or a wretched condition of
anarchy which is the worst possible condition of any commonwealth. These
matters should be weighed carefully, and the deceptive arguments of
those who would persuade subjects to subordinate the king to their own
pleasure, and impose laws on him, should be exposed as leading to the
ruin not only of the monarchy, but of the subject. ...

The lot of the subject of a powerful king ruling a wide domain is a
happy one if he makes any attempt to rule justly. Aristocracy is better
suited to a small state, but is always preferable to a weak tyranny.
There are eighteen aristocratic or popular republics in the Swiss
Confederation, without counting the Grisons, though the distance from
Geneva to Constance is only two hundred and forty thousand paces, and
that from the Alps to the Jura, one hundred and sixty thousand paces. A
good deal of this area is besides barren rock. Yet their inhabitants
have lived happily enough for a very long time. But if such a people
begin to covet the territories of their neighbours, they risk losing
their own. On the other hand the more extensive a monarchy, the more
nourishing it is, and the better assured are its people of peace and
contentment. If it breaks up into democracies and aristocracies, or into
a number of petty tyrannies, its people fall a prey either to tyranny,
or civil disorders, or perpetual struggles with their neighbours. ...

That in a Royal Monarchy Succession should not be by Election nor in the
Female Line, but by Hereditary Succession in the Male Line... [CHAPTER
V] 

IT is not sufficient to say that a royal monarchy is better than cither
democracy or aristocracy if one does not add that the monarchy should
devolve undivided, and by right of inheritance, on the next male heir.
Just as monarchy is to be preferred to any other form of commonwealth,
among monarchies those that pass by right of inheritance to the next
heir in the male line are more ordered and stable than those that pass
by election ... However it is not only simple people and those who have
little understanding of politics, but even those who are experienced in
such matters, who are led astray by considering all the advantages, and
ignoring all the many absurdities and difficulties that arise from some
particular line of action. Even Aristotle thought that kings should be
elected, and stigmatized as barbarians all those peoples who are ruled
by hereditary kings. ...

But all elective monarchies are constantly menaced by the danger of a
relapse into anarchy on the death of each king. The state is left
without a ruler or regular government, and is in imminent danger of
destruction, just as a ship without a master is liable to be wrecked by
the first wind that blows. During such an interregnum, thieves and
murderers are encouraged to rob and kill as they please, having little
fear of punishment. This is the usual state of affairs, for instance, on
the death of a Pope ... As to the civil wars of the Romans, and in more
recent times of the Germans, incidental to the elections to the Empire,
their histories are full of nothing else. Anyone may read therein the
hideous story of looted cities, and of whole provinces pillaged and
ravaged by one side or the other.

There is another disadvantage, and that is the danger that the public
domain will be converted to private ownership. This has happened to the
temporalities of the Holy See, and to the Empire. Elected rulers,
knowing they cannot pass on their position to their sons, endow them
from the public resources by gifts or sales ... Charles IV not being
able to find the hundred thousand crowns promised to each Elector, sold
them imperial rights to procure the election of his son as Emperor, the
same who was shortly after dethroned by those same Electors.

There is another factor to be considered. A man of mean extraction,
suddenly advanced to the first rank of honour, thinks himself a god on
earth. As the wise Hebrew remarked, no ruler is more unendurable than
the slave turned master. Moreover the love of a father for his son is so
strong that he would subvert heaven and earth, if he could, if he might
thereby leave the crown to his son.

But these are not the most serious difficulties. In the choice of a
prince, the election must fall either on a foreigner or a native. In an
elective monarchy each aspires to the crown, and among so many equals
serious factions cannot be avoided, and these divide the whole
population into mutually hostile camps. Even if the candidates are not
equal in ability, or in resources, they consider themselves to be so,
and are reluctant to obey one of themselves. Tacitus says that the
ruling class in Armenia would not choose a native king, and in Poland
recently the senate disqualified all natives of the country from
competing, as I learned from Baron Horbort, one of the thirteen
ambassadors from Poland[3]... As for foreign princes, they always
endeavour, as far as they are able, to subvert the laws, customs, and
religion of the country. For this reason God forbad His people to choose
an alien ruler. Wherever there is an election, and the way is open to a
number of competitors, if recourse is had to force, it is always the
most unscrupulous and cunning, or the boldest who is willing to risk
everything for the chance of success, who prevails. If by any chance an
honest man is elected, his life is in perpetual danger from each of his
powerful rivals. During the three hundred and sixty years that the crown
in Germany has been elective, eight or nine Emperors have been killed or
poisoned, as was William of Holland, Rudolf, Albert, Henry VII,
Frederick II, Louis of Bavaria, and Charles IV, not counting those who
have been shamefully ousted from the imperial throne. ...

Therefore even if it were possible that good and virtuous princes were
invariably elected, the difficulty of securing this, and the dangers
that threaten on all sides, should be sufficient to deter men from
allowing monarchy to become elective, so long as it is possible to
observe a rule of succession ... Any law of succession however will not
do equally well. It must be that of primogeniture in the male line, the
right of the first born son to bear his father's name, to the
succession. The order of nature requires that the eldest should come
next after his father, and the rest follow each in order. The eldest is
therefore to be preferred to the others. One may regard this as a law of
nature, and it has been commonly observed among practically all peoples.
... 

I have said that the crown ought to descend in the male line, seeing
that gynecocracy is directly contrary to the laws of nature. Nature has
endowed men with strength, foresight, pugnacity, authority, but has
deprived women of these qualities. Moreover the law of God explicitly
enjoins that the woman should be subject, not only in matters concerning
law and government, but within each particular family. The most terrible
of maledictions uttered against the enemy was that they might have women
to rule over them. Even the civil law forbids to women all charges and
offices proper to men, such as judging, pleading, and such-like acts.
This is not only because of their lack of prudence, but also because
vigorous action is contrary to the sex, and to the natural modesty and
reserve of women. ...

But dangerous as elections to the crown are, for the reasons we have
already given, should there be a failure of heirs male, this expedient
is to be preferred to the succession of women, for that means outright
gynecocracy in defiance of natural law. Should the sovereign princess
marry, as she must do to secure the succession, she must marry either a
subject or a foreigner. If a subject, it is a great abasement for a
princess to marry one other servants, seeing that the greatest sovereign
princes in the world have found all sorts of difficulties follow
marriage to a subject. There is besides the risk of the envy and
jealousy of great and powerful nobles, in the contempt they always feel
for men of inferior station, if she insists on marrying the man of her
preference ... On the other hand no foreign prince who tries to rule
over an alien people can be secure of his life unless he lives behind
fortifications, and goes about strictly guarded. But if he thus has
control of the armed forces he can control the state, and in order then
to make himself the more secure, he is tempted to advance his own
compatriots. This is a thing which no nation in the world will endure.
We have a thousand examples, among them that of William of Sicily. In
1268 the people of Naples were so enraged that a Frenchman should be
promoted to the office of chancellor that they conspired to kill, and in
fact did kill every Frenchmen in either Naples or Sicily. If the
foreigners are not the stronger party, they get their throats cut on the
slightest provocation by patriots. ...

If natural law is violated by gynecocracy, so are the civil law and the
law of nations, and to an even greater degree. By them the woman is
required to follow her husband though he have neither lands nor
possessions. In this opinion canonists, doctors of civil law, and
theologians are all agreed. The woman is bound in obedience to her
husband, her dowry is his by right, as are likewise all properties
accruing to her ... Nevertheless under the marriage treaty between
Philip of Castile and Mary, Queen of England, contrary principles were
laid down, although many are of opinion that when a foreigner marries a
queen, the rights and revenues of the kingdom belong to him, although
the kingdom, and sovereign authority over it inheres in the queen ...
Such are the inconveniences and absurdities attendant on gynecocracy.
...

The most excellent conclusion possible to this whole work is a
discussion of justice, since such is the foundation of all
commonwealths. It is of such importance that Plato called his book on
the Republic a discussion of right or justice. It is to be observed that
he spoke as a philosopher rather than as a legislator or a jurist.

Concerning Distributive, Commutative, and Harmonic justice, and their
Relation to the Aristocratic, Popular and Monarchical States [CHAPTER
VI] 

THE nearer a kingdom approaches to realizing harmonic justice, the
nearer it is to perfection. By justice I mean the proper distribution of
rewards and punishments, and of those advantages due to each individual
as a matter of right. This distribution must be based partly on the
principle of equality and partly on that of similarity, which properly
conjoined issue in harmonic justice[4] ... But neither the Greeks, the
Romans, nor anyone since has considered it either in relation to the
administration of the law, or the government of the commonwealth. Yet it
is the most perfect form of justice, and proper to a royal monarchy,
governed in part through popular, in part through aristocratic
institutions. ...

Geometric or distributive proportion is based on the principle of
similarity, arithmetic or commutative proportion on the principle of
equality. Harmonic is a fusion of the two which nevertheless does not
resemble either ... Government by distributive proportion unites like to
like. This is illustrated by the marriage laws of the Twelve Tables,
under which nobles were required to marry nobles, commoners, commoners.
This rule is still strictly followed in Ragusa. By this principle
princes should only marry princesses, wealthy men rich wives, poor men
poor ones, and slaves slaves. If however marriages were arranged by
casting lots, a slave might marry a king. Poor and humble people would
not ask anything better, for they want to make things more equal. But
these two principles of government both involve many disadvantages, for
by the one the poor are oppressed, and by the other the nobles slighted.
The harmonic principle however unites the two. Still keeping to the
example of the marriage laws, one would not insist that noblemen of four
quarterings should only marry those of a like descent, as is still the
case in some places in Germany... It is better if the rich burgess
marries a poor noblewoman, or a poor gentleman a rich commoner, the man
with some grace of mind a wife with some grace of body. This is to be
preferred to marriages between people quite alike in all respects. We
see the same thing in business, for the most successful partnerships are
those between a rich sleeping partner and a poor man of ability to run
the business. There is both equality and similarity between them.
Equality in that each has some contribution to make, similarity in that
each lacks some indispensable attribute. ...

An egalitarian order, based on the principle of commutative justice, is
natural to popular states. It is agreed that estates, honours, offices,
benefices, booty, and confiscated lands ought to be equally divided, and
that when laws are to be made, officers appointed, or a matter of life
and death determined, everyone is called upon to take part, the most
foolish and irresponsible having exactly the same importance and
influence as the wisest... In popular states everything is decided by
lot, and regulated by fixed and invariable laws, not susceptible of any
equitable interpretation, nor admitting any privilege or exception of
persons, so that nobles are liable to the same punishments as commoners,
fines imposed on the rich are the same as those imposed on the poor, and
the same rewards are bestowed upon the able and the feeble, upon the
commander of an army and the private soldier.

On the other hand aristocracies are regulated by the principle of
distributive justice ... and it is agreed that the execution of the law
ought to be adapted to the circumstances of each case. It is however
impossible that a so-called law can really be regarded as such if it is
indefinitely flexible. A law is not properly speaking a law if it is as
malleable as wax, and the man who should obey it can mould it as he
wills. In order therefore to avoid on the one hand the unmitigated
rigidity of the commutative principle, and the variability and
uncertainty of the distributive on the other, one needs to find a third
principle which is not so rigid that it cannot be modified if
circumstances require it. One must, in fact, aim at the principle of
harmonic justice, which combines harmoniously law, equity, the execution
of the law, and the function of the magistrate, both in the
administration of justice, and in the governance of the state. In the
series 4, 6, 8,12, there is the same ratio between 4 and 6 as there is
between 8 and 12, and also between 4 and 8 as there is between 6 and 12.
Similarly there is the same relation between law and equity as there is
between the execution of the law and the function of the magistrate, and
also between law and its execution as there is between equity and the
function of the magistrate....

If we apply this to the commonwealth, whether sovereign power is vested
in a prince, the nobles, or the entire people, and the state be a
monarchy, an aristocracy or a popular state, if it is governed without
law and all is left to the discretion of the magistrates to distribute
pains and penalties according to the importance and status of each
individual, such a state could be neither stable nor durable, even
though it had a fair appearance because all was managed without fraud or
favour, a thing impossible in itself. There would be no bond of union
between the great and the humble, and therefore no harmony between them.
There is even less stability where a principle of strict equality is
observed, and all matters are regulated by immutable laws, without any
means of equitable adjustment to suit the requirements of time, place,
and persons. Just as two simple substances, qualitatively extreme
opposites, may be each in themselves lethal, yet combined and tempered
the one by the other produce a health-giving medicine, so the two
opposed principles of commutative and distributive justice are in
themselves destructive of commonwealths, but combined as harmonic
justice supply the means of their preservation.

Aristotle was therefore wrong in maintaining that that state was happy
which was governed by so good a ruler that he was never swayed by
prejudice or passion, for in such a case, he said, there would be no
need of laws. But laws are not for those who exercise sovereign power,
as we have already shown. They are intended in the first place as a
guide to magistrates, who are frequently so bunded by passion, by
intrigues, or by ignorance, that they have no conception at all of the
beauty of justice. Even were they very angels, incapable of any fault,
the subject still has need of the law to illumine a path for him amid
the dark promptings of his heart. Wicked men need it to prevent them
excusing their misdeeds on the grounds of real or pretended ignorance.
Again, if for no other reason, the law is required to fix punishments,
for knowledge of what is the appropriate punishment is not rooted in
conscience as is knowledge of what are those actions forbidden by
natural law....

The first occasion of men making laws was when primitive monarchies were
converted to popular states, as happened in Athens in the time of Dracon
and Solon, and in Sparta when Lycurgus broke the power of the two kings.
The common people demanded equality with the rich and the noble, and
this could only be achieved through equalizing laws. The rich on the
other hand insisted on their privileges. Because the burden of
maintaining the commonwealth fell on them, they considered that the rich
should be advanced in proportion to the size of their estates and the
importance of their charges. Therefore the Tribune Terentius Arsa
proposed a law to the people requiring the magistrates for the future to
be guided in their actions by certain fixed rules. The nobles opposed
the measure, which to them spelt ruin, and would have preferred to
restore the monarchy. The matter was disputed for six years, but in the
end the commons defeated the nobles. The Twelve Tables were therefore
published, including a provision that no privilege was to be granted
anyone, on pain of death, at least without the consent of the popular
assembly. Under these laws the magistrates were required to govern by
strict rules which did not permit of any exercise of discretion, or
appeal to equity....

It is important to notice however that the word equity can be used
diversely. Equity in a ruler is the power to declare or to correct the
law. In a magistrate it is the power of applying it by relaxing its
rigour or stiffening its leniency when there is need, and by supplying
its defects where its provisions are inadequate to a given case ... In
this respect the most humble judges have the same kind of discretion as
the most exalted, but neither of them can do what a sovereign court can,
that is to say reverse a judgement on appeal, or exempt an accused
person entirely from paying the penalty under the law. They can only act
within their terms of reference ... But to speak truly, law without
equity is like a body without a soul, seeing that the law can only lay
down general rules, while equity is dependent on the circumstances of
particular cases, which are infinitely variable. The law must be
accommodated to these circumstances, whether it is a matter of the
administration of justice or affairs of state, if awkward or absurd
consequences are to be avoided. The magistrates however must not bend
the law so much as to break it, even if it is a severe law, when its
intention is unambiguous ... As an ancient doctor once said, it does not
pertain to the magistrates to judge of the law, but to judge according
to the law. If he does otherwise, he is by common agreement unworthy of
his office ... The magistrate is under the law, and equity should be in
his soul, whereby it is his duty to supply its defects, and elucidate
its principles, for the right interpretation of law is the very essence
of law. ...

In nearly all the customs and ordinances of this realm, fines are of
fixed amounts ... and embody a clause 'it is forbidden to our judges to
modify this penalty'. If the convicted person has not the wherewithal to
discharge the fine imposed for his default or fraud, by a general rule
common to all peoples, he must then suffer corporal punishment. To this
it may be objected that it is unjust to condemn a poor man to a fine of
say sixty livres on some frivolous charge, and require no greater sum
from a rich man. By the principle of distributive justice, if a poor man
whose total assets only amounted to one hundred livres was sentenced to
a fine of sixty livres, the rich man who has one hundred thousand livres
ought to pay sixty thousand livres, since sixty bears the same
proportion to a hundred, as sixty thousand to a hundred thousand. The
consequence is that in the one case the principle of distributive
justice deprives the rich of their privileges, and in the other the
principle of commutative justice can be used by the rich as a means of
ruining the poor under the cloak of justice. For this reason our
ordinances permit a judge to levy an extraordinary fine where the
circumstances warrant it, in addition to the ordinary amount fixed by
law. This comes very near the principle of harmonic justice. What
further is required is that the ordinances should allow judges, or at
least supreme courts also to abate a fine, having regard to the
resources of the poor and ignorant, as in fact is always done by the
high court of Rouen ... But he who would be guided by the principle of
strict distributive justice, and make the punishment exactly fit both
the crime and the criminal must give up the attempt to formulate laws
for this purpose, for the variety of persons, acts, times, and places is
infinite, and cannot be comprehended within the scope of any general
rule. On the other hand a strict equality of penalties on the principle
of commutative justice is unjust. ...

However although a popular state is characterized by equal laws on the
principle of commutative justice, whereas an aristocracy preserves the
principle of distributive justice, each must borrow something from the
other if they are to be preserved, and so approximate to harmonic
justice. Otherwise, were an aristocracy to exclude the common people
from the estates, and from all honours and offices, denying them any
share in the spoils of war or conquered territories, the common people,
however much they might be strangers to arms, would revolt and bring a
revolution in the government as soon as an opportunity offered. This may
be seen in the Signory of Venice, which is an aristocracy if ever there
was one, and governs itself in accordance with aristocratic principles,
reserving all high honours and dignities, benefices, and magistracies to
Venetian gentlemen, and only giving subordinate offices to which no
power is attached to commoners, following therein the principle of
distributive justice, much to the great, little to the humble.
Nevertheless, in order to keep the common people content, they open to
them the office of Chancellor which is one of the highest and most
honourable, besides being a perpetual office. To this they add the
Secretaryships of State, also very important and honourable offices.
Furthermore the least offence committed by a Venetian gentleman against
any inhabitant of the city is strictly punished, and indeed, there is a
general ease and liberty for all which is more suggestive of a popular
than an aristocratic state. Magistrates are appointed by a mixed system
of election and lot, the one characteristic of aristocracies, the other
of popular states. In short, the two types of institutions are so well
combined that it is clear that though an aristocracy, it is the fact
that it is regulated according to the principles of harmonic justice
that has made this republic so admirable and so nourishing. ...

The monarchical state is necessarily founded upon the principles of
harmonic justice, and if it is governed royally, that is to say
harmoniously, it is the best, the most happy, and the most perfect type
of state there is. I do not include despotic monarchy where the king, as
the natural lord of his subjects, governs them as his slaves, disposing
of their persons and their goods as he thinks fit. Still less do I
include tyrannies where the king, not being the natural lord of his
subjects, usurps an improper authority over their persons and their
possessions, reducing them to slavery, and worst of all, making them the
objects of his cruelty. I am speaking of legitimate monarchy, whether
elective, hereditary, or founded in a conquest voluntarily submitted to,
where the king's relations to his subjects is that of a father to his
children, for he does justice among them.

A king can however, in the first place, govern his kingdom as if it were
a popular state, on egalitarian principles, throwing open all public
office whatsoever to all his subjects indifferently, without
distinguishing merit, or suitability, by the means of filling offices,
either by casting lots, or by a strict system of rotation. There are
however few or none such monarchies. Or the king can govern his kingdom
aristocratically, distributing honours and honourable charges, rewards
and penalties in proportion to the nobility of some, and the wealth of
others, but excluding poor commoners, without regard to their merits,
but singling out only those with birth or wealth.

Though both these systems are bad, the latter is much the more tolerable
since it approaches nearest to an harmonious system. For the king, in
order to protect his authority from the envy of the common people,
inclines to the nobility, whose quality more nearly approaches his own
than that of the commoners, with whom he is not on terms of social
intercourse, for he cannot very well so far abate his dignity as to be
on terms of familiarity with them. He would have to do this if he were
to open honours and honourable charges to them. Such a government
however is as damaging to the noblesse and the king as it is to the
commons, for they both necessarily live in fear of the discontented
masses, who must always heavily outnumber the rich and the nobly born.
If they take to arms they are the stronger party, and can rise against
the king, expel the nobility, and defy his authority, as happened with
the Swiss, and many commonwealths in the ancient world. The explanation
is obvious. The common people were not bound by any tie either to the
king or to the nobility. ...

A wise king ought therefore to govern his kingdom harmoniously, subtly
combining nobles and commons, rich and poor with such skill as always to
preserve some advantage for the noble over the commoner. For it is right
that the gentleman who is as practised in arms and in law as a commoner
should be preferred to him in matters of justice and of war, or that the
rich man, equal in all other respects to the poor one should be
preferred in those offices which carry with them greater honour than
profit. Both will then be content, for the rich man only looks for
honour, but the poor man for profit... There is no way of combining
great and small, nobleman and commoner, rich and poor, save by giving
estates, dignities, and benefices to those who deserve them. But deserts
are various. If responsible and honourable charges were only given to
the virtuous the commonwealth would always be in a state of confusion,
seeing that such men are always few in number, and easily overcome by
the rest. But in associating upright men now with nobles, now with rich
citizens, even though these last may be quite devoid of virtue, they are
nattered to be associated with those who possess it, while they in their
turn are gratified to find themselves advanced to some honourable
employment. Thus on the one hand the nobility are satisfied that birth
is respected in the distribution of honours, on the other the commons
are deeply gratified and feel themselves generally honoured. In fact
they are so honoured when the son of a poor physician can become the
Chancellor of a great kingdom, or the son of a poor soldier High
Constable, as happened in the case of Michel de l'Hpital and Bertrand
du Guesclin among many others, whose virtues alone led to their
promotion to the very highest offices. But all classes see with
impatience the most unworthy promoted to the most responsible positions,
though it is occasionally necessary to give some offices to incapable
and unworthy persons, provided it is done so sparingly that their
ignorance or vice cannot do any great harm in the position they hold. It
is not sufficient to entrust finance to the most trustworthy, war to the
most valiant, justice to the most upright, censure to the most
incorruptible, work to the strongest, government to the wisest, religion
to the most devout, as the principle of distributive justice requires,
though this in fact cannot be achieved because of the scarcity of good
men. To ensure a general harmony one must combine those who can supply
one another's shortcomings. Otherwise there will be no harmony than if
one sounded separately notes sweet in themselves, but only capable of
producing a consonance when struck together. In doing this the prince
reconciles his subjects to one another, and all alike to himself. ...

The prince exalted above all his subjects, whose majesty does not admit
of any division, represents the principle of unity, from which all the
rest derive their force and cohesion. Below him are the three estates,
which have always been disposed in the same way in all well-ordered
commonwealths. The estate of the clergy is placed first because of its
dignity in ministering to religion. It includes both nobles and
commoners. Next comes the military estate, which also includes nobles
and commoners. Last there is the third estate of scholars, merchants,
craftsmen, and peasants. Each of these three estates should have a share
in public offices, benefices, jurisdictions, and honourable charges,
each according to the merits and qualities of persons. Thus an admirable
harmony will subsist between the subjects themselves, and the subjects
and their prince ... Aristocratic and popular states also nourish and
maintain a government. But they are not so well united and knit together
as if they had a prince. He unites all parts and relates them one to
another ... One can regard the three estates as characterized by
prudence, courage, and temperance respectively. These three virtues
complement each other, and that of the king, who supplies the rational
and contemplative element. Such a form of commonwealth is harmonious and
therefore admirable, for the union of its members depends on unity under
a single ruler, on whom the effectiveness of all the rest depends. A
sovereign prince is therefore indispensable, for it is his power which
informs all the members of the commonwealth. ...



1. The heading of the chapter is simply LA CENSURE. Bodin uses the term
for both census and censorship, following the union of these two
functions in a single magistrate in Rome.

2. Chapter III deals with the establishment of a pure standard coinage,
and is an abstract of his tract on currency already referred to (see
note, p. 47). 

3. In August 1573 a magnificent Polish embassy arrived in Paris to
conduct the Duke of Anjou back to Poland, following his election to the
throne in the preceding May. Bodin was a member of the deputation that
met the embassy at Metz.

4. As a Platonist Bodin thought that moral as well as physical
relationships could be expressed mathematically. So, commutative
justice, or the principle of equality, is like an arithmetical
progression -- 3, 9, 15, 21 -- arising from the addition of a constant
number. Distributive justice, or the principle of similarity, is like a
geometrical progression -- 3, 9, 27, 81 -- made by multiplication in a
constant ratio. The only way of combining these diverse kinds of
proportion is in a harmonic progression -- 3, 4, 6, 8, 12 -- in which
alternate terms are in a constant ratio, but consecutive terms linked by
a number alternately added and multiplied. This he thought provided a
scheme of subtle and complex relationships more expressive of right
order in the commonwealth than either of the other two, which only allow
of one uniform relationship. For clarity, the mathematical formulae have
been translated into their political equivalents throughout the chapter.


