Jean-Jacques Rousseau · Complete work
Book II, Chapter 9
Book II, Chapter 9 of 49. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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Suite.
Comme la nature a donné des termes à la stature d’un homme bien conformé, passé lesquels elle ne fait plus que des Géants ou des Nains, il y a de même, eu égard à la meilleure constitution d’un État, des bornes à l’étendue qu’il peut avoir, afin qu’il ne soit ni trop grand pour pouvoir être bien gouverné, ni trop petit pour pouvoir se maintenir par lui-même. Il y a dans tout corps politique un maximum de force qu’il ne sauroit passer, & duquel souvent il s’éloigne à force de s’aggrandir. Plus le lien social s’étend, plus il se relâche, & en général un petit État est proportionnellement plus fort qu’un grand.
Mille raisons démontrent cette maxime. Premierement l’administration devient plus pénible dans les grandes distances, comme un poids devient plus lourd au bout d’un plus grand lévier. Elle devient aussi plus onéreuse à mesure que les degrés se multiplient; car chaque ville a d’abord la sienne que le peuple paye, chaque district la sienne encore payée par le peuple, ensuite chaque province, puis les grands gouvernemens, les Satrapies, les Viceroyautés qu’il faut toujours payer plus cher à mesure qu’on monte, & toujours aux dépends du malheureux peuple; enfin vient l’administration suprême qui écrase tout. Tant de surcharges épuisent continuellement les sujets; loin d’être mieux gouvernés par tous ces différens ordres, ils le sont bien moins que s’il n’y en avoit qu’un seul au dessus d’eux. Cependant à peine reste-t-il des ressources pour les cas extraordinaires, & quand il y faut recourir l’Etat est toujours à la veille de sa ruine.
Ce n’est pas tout; non seulement le Gouvernement a moins de vigueur & de célérité pour faire observer les loix, empêcher les véxations, corriger les abus, prévenir les entreprises séditieuses qui peuvent se faire dans des lieux éloignés; mais le peuple a moins d’affection pour ses chefs qu’il ne voit jamais, pour la patrie qui est à ses yeux comme le monde, & pour ses concitoyens dont la plus-part lui sont étrangers. Les mêmes loix ne peuvent convenir à tant de provinces diverses qui ont des mœurs différentes, qui vivent sous des climats opposés, & qui ne peuvent souffrir la même forme de gouvernement. Des loix différentes n’engendrent que trouble & confusion parmi des peuples qui, vivant sous les mêmes chefs & dans une communication continuelle, passent ou se marient les uns chez les autres &, soumis à d’autres coutumes, ne savent jamais si leur patrimoine est bien à eux. Les talens sont enfouis, les vertus ignorées, les vices impunis, dans cette multitude d’hommes inconnus les uns aux autres, que le siege de l’administration suprême rassemble dans un même lieu. Les Chefs accablés d’affaires ne voyent rien par eux-mêmes, des commis gouvernent l’Etat. Enfin les mesures qu’il faut prendre pour maintenir l’autorité générale, à laquelle tant d’Officiers éloignés veulent se soustraire ou en imposer, absorbe tous les soins publics, il n’en reste plus pour le bonheur du peuple, à peine en reste-t-il pour sa défense au besoin, & c’est ainsi qu’un corps trop grand pour sa constitution s’affaisse & périt écrasé sous son propre poids.
D’un autre côté, l’Etat doit se donner une certaine base pour avoir de la solidité, pour résister aux secousses qu’il ne manquera pas d’éprouver & aux efforts qu’il sera contraint de faire pour se soutenir: car tous les peuples ont une espece de force centrifuge, par laquelle ils agissent continuellement les uns contre les autres & tendent à s’aggrandir aux dépens de leurs voisins, comme les tourbillons de Descartes. Ainsi les foibles risquent d’être bientôt engloutis, & nul ne peut gueres se conserver qu’en se mettant avec tous dans une espece d’équilibre, qui rende la compression par-tout à peu près égale.
On voit par-là qu’il y a des raisons de s’étendre & des raisons de se resserrer, & ce n’est pas le moindre talent du politique de trouver, entre les unes & les autres, la proportion la plus avantageuse à la conservation de l’État. On peut dire en général que les premieres, n’étant qu’extérieures & rélatives, doivent être subordonnées aux autres, qui sont internes & absolues; une saine & forte constitution est la premiere chose qu’il faut rechercher, & l’on doit plus compter sur la vigueur qui nait d’un bon gouvernement, que sur les ressources que fournit un grand territoire.
Au reste, on a vu des États tellement constitués, que la nécessité des conquêtes entroit dans leur constitution même, & que pour se maintenir, ils étoient forcés de s’aggrandir sans cesse. Peut-être se félicitoient-ils beaucoup de cette heureuse nécessité, qui leur montroit pourtant, avec le terme de leur grandeur, l’inévitable moment de leur chute.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete French text of the 1762 edition, all four books and the appendix for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
Continued.
Just as nature has set limits to the stature of a well-formed man, beyond which she produces only giants or dwarfs, so, with regard to the best constitution of a State, there are bounds to the extent it can have, so that it is neither too large to be well governed nor too small to maintain itself. Every body politic has a maximum of strength beyond which it cannot pass, and from which it often recedes by growing larger. The farther the social bond extends, the looser it becomes; and in general a small State is proportionately stronger than a large one.
A thousand reasons demonstrate this maxim. First, administration grows more arduous across great distances, as a weight grows heavier at the end of a longer lever. It also becomes more costly as the levels multiply: each city has its own administration, paid for by the people; each district another, also paid for by the people; then each province, then the great governments, the satrapies, the viceroyalties, which must always be paid more lavishly as one climbs higher, and always at the expense of the unfortunate people. Finally comes the supreme administration, which crushes everything. So many burdens continually exhaust the subjects; far from being better governed by all these different orders, they are much worse governed than if there were only a single one above them. Meanwhile scarcely any resources remain for extraordinary circumstances, and when these must be met, the State is always on the brink of ruin.
Nor is that all. Not only has the government less vigor and speed to enforce the laws, prevent oppression, correct abuses, and forestall seditious undertakings that may arise in distant places, but the people have less affection for leaders they never see, for a homeland that appears to them as vast as the world, and for fellow citizens most of whom are strangers to them. The same laws cannot suit so many different provinces, with different customs, living under opposite climates and unable to bear the same form of government. Different laws breed nothing but trouble and confusion among peoples who live under the same leaders and in constant contact, who move or marry among one another and, subject to other customs, never know whether their inheritance is securely their own. Talents lie buried, virtues unrecognized, vices unpunished, among this multitude of people unknown to one another whom the seat of supreme administration draws together in one place. Leaders overwhelmed with business see nothing for themselves; clerks govern the State. Finally, the measures needed to maintain the general authority, which so many distant officials wish to evade or exploit, consume all public attention. None remains for the happiness of the people, barely any for their defense in time of need; and thus a body too large for its constitution sags and perishes, crushed beneath its own weight.
On the other hand, the State must give itself a certain foundation for solidity, to withstand the shocks it will inevitably encounter and the efforts it will be compelled to make to sustain itself. For all peoples have a kind of centrifugal force by which they continually act against one another and tend to expand at their neighbors' expense, like Descartes's vortices. Thus the weak risk being swallowed up before long, and hardly anyone can preserve itself except by entering with all the others into a sort of equilibrium, making the pressure approximately equal everywhere.
It is clear, then, that there are reasons to expand and reasons to contract, and finding the balance between them most conducive to the preservation of the State is no small part of the statesman's skill. In general, the former reasons, being merely external and relative, should be subordinated to the latter, which are internal and absolute. A sound and strong constitution is the first thing to seek, and more trust should be placed in the vigor born of good government than in the resources supplied by a vast territory.
There have been States, however, so constituted that the necessity of conquest entered into their very constitution, and that to maintain themselves they were forced to expand without ceasing. Perhaps they took great pride in this happy necessity, which nevertheless showed them, along with the limit of their greatness, the inevitable moment of their fall.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the complete French text of the 1762 edition, all four books and the appendix.
Continued.
Nature sets limits on the height of a well-proportioned person. Beyond those limits it produces only giants or dwarfs. In the same way, for a state to have the best constitution, there are limits to its size. It must be neither too large to govern well nor too small to survive on its own. Every body politic has a maximum strength it cannot exceed, and it often moves farther from that maximum as it grows larger. The farther the social bond extends, the weaker it becomes. In general, a small state is proportionally stronger than a large one.
A thousand reasons show why. First, administration becomes harder over greater distances, just as a weight feels heavier at the end of a longer lever. It also costs more as the levels multiply. Every city has its own administration paid for by the people. Every district has another, also paid for by the people. Then come the provinces, followed by the large governing regions, satrapies, and viceroyalties. Each higher level costs more, always at the expense of the unfortunate people. Finally comes the supreme administration, which crushes everything. So many added burdens continually exhaust the subjects. Far from being better governed by all these different levels, they are governed much worse than if they had only one above them. Yet barely any resources remain for emergencies. When such resources are needed, the state is always on the verge of ruin.
That is not all. The government has less strength and speed to enforce the laws, prevent oppression, correct abuses, and forestall attempts at rebellion in distant places. Meanwhile, people feel less affection for leaders they never see, a homeland that seems to them as vast as the world, and fellow citizens who are mostly strangers to them. The same laws cannot suit so many different provinces with different ways of life, living in opposite climates, and unable to tolerate the same form of government. Different laws produce nothing but disorder and confusion among people who live under the same leaders, remain in constant contact, move between provinces, and intermarry. Living under different customs, they can never be sure whether their inherited property really belongs to them. Talents go unused, virtues unnoticed, and vices unpunished among the crowd of people who do not know one another but are brought together in the seat of supreme administration. The leaders, overwhelmed with business, see nothing for themselves; clerks govern the state. Finally, the measures needed to maintain central authority, which so many distant officials try either to evade or to wield as their own, absorb all public attention. None is left for the people's happiness, and hardly any for their defense when needed. In this way, a body too large for its constitution sinks and dies, crushed by its own weight.
On the other hand, a state needs a firm enough base to be stable, to resist the shocks it will inevitably face and to make the efforts needed to sustain itself. For all peoples have a kind of centrifugal force. They constantly push against one another and seek to expand at their neighbors' expense, like Descartes's vortices. Weak peoples risk being swallowed up quickly. Hardly anyone can survive without achieving a kind of balance with everyone else, so that pressure is roughly equal on all sides.
There are therefore reasons to expand and reasons to contract. One of the political leader's greatest talents is finding the balance between them that best preserves the state. In general, the reasons for expansion are merely external and relative and should be subordinate to the others, which are internal and absolute. A sound and strong constitution is the first thing to seek. We should rely more on the strength that comes from good government than on the resources supplied by a large territory.
Still, some states have had constitutions that made conquest necessary to their existence. To survive, they had to keep expanding. Perhaps they congratulated themselves on this fortunate necessity. Yet it showed them, along with the limit of their greatness, the unavoidable moment of their fall.