Jean-Jacques Rousseau · Complete work
Epistle Dedicatory: To the Republic of Geneva, 1
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à la République
de Genève.
Magnifiques, très-honorés, et souverains seigneurs,
Convaincu qu’il n’appartient qu’au citoyen vertueux de rendre à sa patrie des honneurs qu’elle puisse avouer, il y a trente ans que je travaille à mériter de vous offrir un hommage public; et cette heureuse occasion suppléant en partie à ce que mes efforts n’ont pu faire, j’ai cru qu’il me serait permis de consulter ici le zèle qui m’anime, plus que le droit qui devrait m’autoriser. Ayant eu le bonheur de naître parmi vous, comment pourrais-je méditer sur l’égalité que la nature a mise entre les hommes et sur l’inégalité qu’ils ont instituée, sans penser à la profonde sagesse avec laquelle l’une et l’autre, heureusement combinées dans cet état, concourent de la manière la plus approchante de la loi naturelle et la plus favorable à la société, au maintien de l’ordre public et au bonheur des particuliers? En recherchant les meilleures maximes que le bon sens puisse dicter sur la constitution d’un gouvernement, j’ai été si frappé de les voir toutes en exécution dans le vôtre, que, même sans être né dans vos murs, j’aurais cru ne pouvoir me dispenser d’offrir ce tableau de la société humaine à celui de tous les peuples qui me paraît en posséder les plus grands avantages, et en avoir le mieux prévenu les abus.
Si j’avais eu à choisir le lieu de ma naissance, j’aurais choisi une société d’une grandeur bornée par l’étendue des facultés humaines, c’est-à-dire par la possibilité d’être bien gouvernée, et où, chacun suffisant à son emploi, nul n’eût été contraint de commettre à d’autres les fonctions dont il était chargé; un état où, tous les particuliers se connaissant entre eux, les manœuvres obscures du vice, ni la modestie de la vertu n’eussent pu se dérober aux regards et au jugement du public, et où cette douce habitude de se voir et de se connaître fît de l’amour de la patrie l’amour des citoyens plutôt que celui de la terre.
J’aurais voulu naître dans un pays où le souverain et le peuple ne pussent avoir qu’un seul et même intérêt, afin que tous les mouvements de la machine ne tendissent jamais qu’au bonheur commun; ce qui ne pouvant se faire à moins que le peuple et le souverain ne soient une même personne, il s’ensuit que j’aurais voulu naître sous un gouvernement démocratique, sagement tempéré.
J’aurais voulu vivre et mourir libre, c’est-à-dire tellement soumis aux lois, que ni moi ni personne n’en pût secouer l’honorable joug, ce joug salutaire et doux, que les têtes les plus fières portent d’autant plus docilement qu’elles sont faites pour n’en porter aucun autre.
J’aurais donc voulu que personne dans l’état n’eût pu se dire au-dessus de la loi, et que personne au-dehors n’en pût imposer que l’état fût obligé de reconnaître; car, quelle que puisse être la constitution d’un gouvernement, s’il s’y trouve un seul homme qui ne soit pas soumis à la loi, tous les autres sont nécessairement à la discrétion de celui-là; et s’il y a un chef national, et un autre chef étranger, quelque partage d’autorité qu’ils puissent faire, il est impossible que l’un et l’autre soient bien obéis et que l’état soit bien gouverné.
Je n’aurais point voulu habiter une République de nouvelle institution, quelques bonnes lois qu’elle pût avoir, de peur que le gouvernement, autrement constitué peut-être qu’il ne faudrait pour le moment, ne convenant pas aux nouveaux citoyens, ou les citoyens au nouveau gouvernement, l’état ne fût sujet à être ébranlé et détruit presque dès sa naissance; car il en est de la liberté comme de ces aliments solides et succulents, ou de ces vins généreux, propres à nourrir et fortifier les tempéraments robustes qui en ont l’habitude, mais qui accablent, ruinent et enivrent les faibles et délicats qui n’y sont point faits. Les peuples une fois accoutumés à des maîtres ne sont plus en état de s’en passer. S’ils tentent de secouer le joug, ils s’éloignent d’autant plus de la liberté, que, prenant pour elle une licence effrénée qui lui est opposée, leurs révolutions les livrent presque toujours à des séducteurs qui ne font qu’aggraver leurs chaînes. Le peuple romain lui-même, ce modèle de tous les peuples libres, ne fut point en état de se gouverner en sortant de l’oppression des Tarquins. Avili par l’esclavage et les travaux ignominieux qu’ils lui avaient imposés, ce n’était d’abord qu’une stupide populace qu’il fallut ménager et gouverner avec la plus grande sagesse, afin que, s’accoutumant peu-à-peu à respirer l’air salutaire de la liberté, ces ames énervées, ou plutôt abruties sous la tyrannie, acquissent par degrés cette sévérité de mœurs et cette fierté de courage qui en firent enfin le plus respectable de tous les peuples. J’aurais donc cherché pour ma patrie une heureuse et tranquille république, dont l’ancienneté se perdît en quelque sorte dans la nuit des temps, qui n’eût éprouvé que des atteintes propres à manifester et affermir dans ses habitants le courage et l’amour de la patrie, et où les citoyens, accoutumés de longue main à une sage indépendance, fussent, non seulement libres mais dignes de l’être.
J’aurais voulu me choisir une patrie détournée, par une heureuse impuissance, du féroce amour des conquêtes, et garantie, par une position encore plus heureuse, de la crainte de devenir elle-même la conquête d’un autre état; une ville libre, placée entre plusieurs peuples dont aucun n’eût intérêt à l’envahir, et dont chacun eût intérêt d’empêcher les autres de l’envahir eux-mêmes; une république, en un mot, qui ne tentât point l’ambition de ses voisins, et qui pût raisonnablement compter sur leur secours au besoin. Il s’ensuit que, dans une position si heureuse, elle n’aurait rien eu à craindre que d’elle-même, et que si ses citoyens s’étaient exercés aux armes, c’eût été plutôt pour entretenir chez eux cette ardeur guerrière et cette fierté de courage qui sied si bien à la liberté et qui en nourrit le goût, que par la nécessité de pourvoir à leur propre défense.
J’aurais cherché un pays où le droit de législation fût commun à tous les citoyens; car qui peut mieux savoir qu’eux sous quelles conditions il leur convient de vivre ensemble dans une même société? Mais je n’aurais pas approuvé des plébiscites semblables à ceux des Romains, où les chefs de l’état les plus intéressés à sa conservation étaient exclus des délibérations dont souvent dépendait son salut, et où, par une absurde inconséquence, les magistrats étaient privés des droits dont jouissaient les simples citoyens.
Au contraire, j’aurais désiré que, pour arrêter les projets intéressés et mal conçus, et les innovations dangereuses qui perdirent enfin les Athéniens, chacun n’eût pas le pouvoir de proposer de nouvelles lois à sa fantaisie; que ce droit appartînt aux seuls magistrats; qu’ils en usassent même avec tant de circonspection, que le peuple, de son côté, fût si réservé à donner son consentement à ces lois, et que la promulgation ne pût s’en faire qu’avec tant de solennité, qu’avant que la constitution fût ébranlée, on eût le temps de se convaincre que c’est surtout la grande antiquité des lois qui les rend saintes et vénérables; que le peuple méprise bientôt celles qu’il voit changer tous les jours, et qu’en s’accoutumant à négliger les anciens usages, sous prétexte de faire mieux, on introduit souvent de grands maux pour en corriger de moindres.
J’aurais fui surtout, comme nécessairement mal gouvernée, une république où le peuple, croyant pouvoir se passer de ses magistrats, ou ne leur laisser qu’une autorité précaire, aurait imprudemment gardé l’administration des affaires civiles et l’exécution de ses propres lois: telle dut être la grossière constitution des premiers gouvernements sortant immédiatement de l’état de nature; et tel fut encore un des vices qui perdirent la république d’Athènes.
Mais j’aurais choisi celle où les particuliers, se contentant de donner la sanction aux lois, et de décider en corps et sur le rapport des chefs les plus importantes affaires publiques, établiraient des tribunaux respectés, en distingueraient avec soin les divers départements, éliraient d’année en année les plus capables et les plus intègres de leurs concitoyens pour administrer la justice et gouverner l’état, et où la vertu des magistrats portant ainsi témoignage de la sagesse du peuple, les uns et les autres s’honoreraient mutuellement. De sorte que si jamais de funestes malentendus venaient à troubler la concorde publique, ces temps mêmes d’aveuglement et d’erreurs fussent marqués par des témoignages de modération, d’estime réciproque, et d’un commun respect pour les lois; présages et garants d’une réconciliation sincère et perpétuelle.
Tels sont, magnifiques, très-honorés, et souverains seigneurs, les avantages que j’aurais recherchés dans la patrie que je me serais choisie. Que si la Providence y avait ajouté de plus une situation charmante, un climat tempéré, un pays fertile, et l’aspect le plus délicieux qui soit sous le ciel, je n’aurais désiré, pour combler mon bonheur, que de jouir de tous ces biens dans le sein de cette heureuse patrie, vivant paisiblement dans une douce société avec mes concitoyens, exerçant envers eux, et à leur exemple, l’humanité, l’amitié et toutes les vertus, et laissant après moi l’honorable mémoire d’un homme de bien et d’un honnête et vertueux patriote.
Si, moins heureux ou trop tard sage, je m’étais vu réduit à finir en d’autres climats une infirme et languissante carrière, regrettant inutilement le repos et la paix dont une jeunesse imprudente m’aurait privé, j’aurais du moins nourri dans mon ame ces mêmes sentiments dont je n’aurais pu faire usage dans mon pays; et pénétré d’une affection tendre et désintéressée pour mes concitoyens éloignés, je leur aurais adressé du fond de mon cœur à peu près le discours suivant:
Mes chers concitoyens, ou plutôt mes frères, puisque les liens du sang ainsi que les lois nous unissent presque tous, il m’est doux de ne pouvoir penser à vous sans penser en même temps à tous les biens dont vous jouissez, et dont nul de vous peut-être ne sent mieux le prix que moi qui les ai perdus. Plus je réfléchis sur votre situation politique et civile, et moins je puis imaginer que la nature des choses humaines puisse en comporter une meilleure. Dans tous les autres gouvernements, quand il est question d’assurer le plus grand bien de l’état, tout se borne toujours à des projets en idées, et tout au plus à de simples possibilités: pour vous, votre bonheur est tout fait, il ne faut qu’en jouir; et vous n’avez plus besoin, pour devenir parfaitement heureux, que de savoir vous contenter de l’être. Votre souveraineté, acquise ou recouvrée à la pointe de l’épée, et conservée durant deux siècles à force de valeur et de sagesse, est enfin pleinement et universellement reconnue. Des traités honorables fixent vos limites, assurent vos droits, et affermissent votre repos. Votre constitution est excellente, dictée par la plus sublime raison, et garantie par des puissances amies et respectables; votre état est tranquille; vous n’avez ni guerres ni conquérants à craindre; vous n’avez point d’autres maîtres que de sages lois que vous avez faites, administrées par des magistrats intègres qui sont de votre choix; vous n’êtes ni assez riches pour vous énerver par la mollesse et perdre dans de vaines délices le goût du vrai bonheur et des solides vertus, ni assez pauvres pour avoir besoin de plus de secours étrangers que ne vous en procure votre industrie; et cette liberté précieuse qu’on ne maintient chez les grandes nations qu’avec des impôts exorbitants, ne vous coûte presque rien à conserver.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete French text (dedicatory epistle, preface, both parts and the notes) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
To the Republic
of Geneva.
Magnificent, most honored, and sovereign lords,
Convinced that only a virtuous citizen may pay his country honors she can acknowledge, I have labored for thirty years to earn the right to offer you a public tribute; and since this happy occasion makes up in part for what my efforts have failed to accomplish, I have thought I might consult the zeal that animates me more than the right that ought to authorize me. Having had the good fortune to be born among you, how could I reflect on the equality nature has established among men, and the inequality they have instituted, without thinking of the profound wisdom by which both, happily combined in this state, contribute, in a manner most closely approaching natural law and most favorable to society, to the maintenance of public order and the happiness of individuals? Seeking the best maxims that common sense can dictate for the constitution of a government, I was so struck to see them all put into practice in yours that, even had I not been born within your walls, I should have thought myself bound to offer this portrait of human society to that people which seems to me to possess its greatest advantages and to have best forestalled its abuses.
Had I been able to choose my birthplace, I would have chosen a society whose size was bounded by the reach of human faculties—that is, by the possibility of being well governed—and where each person, equal to his task, would not be forced to entrust to others the duties for which he was responsible; a state where all individuals knew one another, where neither the obscure maneuvers of vice nor the modesty of virtue could escape public sight and judgment, and where the sweet habit of seeing and knowing one another would make love of country a love of its citizens rather than of its soil.
I would have wished to be born in a country where sovereign and people could have only one and the same interest, so that every movement of the machine would tend solely toward their common happiness. Since that can happen only if the people and sovereign are one and the same person, it follows that I would have wished to be born under a wisely tempered democratic government.
I would have wished to live and die free: so thoroughly subject to the laws that neither I nor anyone else could shake off their honorable yoke, that salutary and gentle yoke which the proudest spirits bear all the more willingly because they are made to bear no other.
I would therefore have wished that no one within the state could claim to stand above the law, and that no one outside it could impose a law the state was obliged to recognize. For whatever a government's constitution may be, if a single man in it is not subject to the law, all the rest are necessarily at his mercy; and if there is one national head and another foreign head, however they divide authority, it is impossible for both to be properly obeyed or for the state to be well governed.
I would not have wished to live in a newly founded republic, however good its laws, for fear that its government, perhaps constituted otherwise than circumstances required, would not suit its new citizens, or its citizens their new government, leaving the state liable to be shaken and destroyed almost at birth. Liberty is like rich, substantial food or generous wine: it nourishes and strengthens robust constitutions accustomed to it, but overwhelms, ruins, and intoxicates the weak and delicate who are not used to it. Once peoples are accustomed to masters, they can no longer do without them. If they try to cast off the yoke, they move all the farther from liberty because, mistaking for it the unbridled license that is its opposite, their revolutions almost always deliver them to deceivers who only make their chains heavier. Even the Roman people, that model for all free peoples, could not govern itself on emerging from the oppression of the Tarquins. Degraded by slavery and the humiliating labors they had imposed, it was at first only a dull mob, which had to be handled and governed with the greatest wisdom so that, gradually accustomed to breathe the wholesome air of liberty, these souls enfeebled—or rather brutalized—under tyranny might acquire by degrees that severity of manners and pride of courage which at last made them the most admirable of all peoples. I would therefore have sought as my homeland a happy and peaceful republic whose antiquity was almost lost in the night of time, which had suffered only those blows that brought forth and strengthened its inhabitants' courage and love of country, and whose citizens, long accustomed to a wise independence, were not merely free but worthy of freedom.
I would have chosen a homeland turned aside by a fortunate lack of power from the savage love of conquest, and protected by a still more fortunate position from the fear of becoming another state's conquest: a free city set among several peoples, none of whom had an interest in invading it and each of whom had an interest in preventing the others from doing so; a republic, in short, that did not tempt its neighbors' ambition and could reasonably count on their aid in time of need. It follows that in so happy a position it would have nothing to fear but itself; and that if its citizens practiced arms, they would do so less from the need to defend themselves than to preserve that martial ardor and pride of courage which so well befit liberty and nourish a taste for it.
I would have sought a country where the right to legislate belonged to all citizens; for who can know better than they the conditions under which it suits them to live together in one society? But I would not have approved plebiscites like those of the Romans, from whose deliberations the heads of state, most concerned for its preservation, were excluded even when its safety often depended on them; and where, by an absurd inconsistency, magistrates were denied rights enjoyed by ordinary citizens.
On the contrary, to check self-interested, ill-conceived proposals and the dangerous innovations that finally ruined the Athenians, I would have wished that no one had power to propose new laws at whim; that this right belonged to magistrates alone; that even they exercised it with such circumspection, the people for their part were so guarded in giving their consent, and promulgation could take place only with such solemnity, that before the constitution could be shaken there would be time to become convinced that it is above all the great antiquity of laws that makes them sacred and venerable; that people soon despise laws they see changed every day, and that in growing accustomed to neglect old usages on the pretext of doing better, one often introduces great evils to correct lesser ones.
Above all I would have fled, as necessarily ill governed, a republic in which the people, believing they could do without their magistrates, or leave them only a precarious authority, had imprudently retained the administration of civil affairs and the execution of their own laws. Such must have been the crude constitution of the earliest governments emerging directly from the state of nature; and such was another of the faults that ruined the republic of Athens.
I would instead have chosen one where individuals, content to sanction the laws and to decide collectively, upon their leaders' report, the most important public affairs, established respected courts, carefully distinguished their various departments, and elected year by year the ablest and most upright of their fellow citizens to administer justice and govern the state. There, the virtue of the magistrates bearing witness to the wisdom of the people, each would honor the other; so that if disastrous misunderstandings ever disturbed public harmony, even those times of blindness and error would be marked by signs of moderation, mutual esteem, and common respect for the laws—omens and pledges of a sincere and lasting reconciliation.
Such, magnificent, most honored, and sovereign lords, are the advantages I would have sought in the homeland I might have chosen. And if Providence had added to these a delightful situation, a temperate climate, fertile land, and the most enchanting prospect beneath the sky, I would have desired nothing more to complete my happiness than to enjoy all these blessings in the bosom of that happy homeland: living peacefully in gentle fellowship with my fellow citizens, practicing toward them and after their example humanity, friendship, and every virtue, and leaving behind the honorable memory of a good man and an honest, virtuous patriot.
If, less fortunate or wise too late, I had found myself condemned to end a frail and languishing life in other climes, vainly regretting the repose and peace of which an imprudent youth had deprived me, I would at least have cherished in my soul those same sentiments I could no longer put to use in my own country. Filled with tender and disinterested affection for my distant fellow citizens, I would have addressed to them from the depths of my heart something like these words:
My dear fellow citizens—or rather my brothers, since ties of blood as well as laws unite nearly all of us—it is sweet to me that I cannot think of you without thinking at the same time of all the blessings you enjoy, whose value perhaps none of you feels more keenly than I, who have lost them. The more I reflect upon your political and civil condition, the less I can imagine that the nature of human affairs permits a better one. In every other government, when the question is how to secure the greatest good for the state, everything remains forever a matter of imagined schemes, or at most mere possibilities. For you, happiness is already made: you have only to enjoy it; and to become perfectly happy you need only know how to be content with it. Your sovereignty, won or recovered by the sword and preserved for two centuries through courage and wisdom, is at last fully and universally recognized. Honorable treaties fix your boundaries, secure your rights, and strengthen your peace. Your constitution is excellent, dictated by the most sublime reason and guaranteed by friendly and respected powers; your state is tranquil; you have neither wars nor conquerors to fear; you have no masters but wise laws of your own making, administered by upright magistrates of your own choosing. You are neither rich enough to be enervated by softness and to lose, amid empty pleasures, your taste for true happiness and enduring virtues, nor poor enough to need more help from abroad than your industry supplies; and the precious liberty that great nations maintain only through exorbitant taxes costs you almost nothing to preserve.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the complete French text (dedicatory epistle, preface, both parts and the notes).
To the Republic of Geneva.
Magnificent, highly honored, and sovereign lords,
I am convinced that only a virtuous citizen should pay his country public honors it can accept. For thirty years I have worked to deserve the chance to offer you such a tribute. This happy occasion partly makes up for what my efforts could not achieve, so I thought I could follow the zeal that moves me rather than the right I ought to have. I had the good fortune to be born among you. How could I reflect on the equality nature gave human beings, and on the inequality they created, without thinking of the deep wisdom with which both have been successfully combined in this state? Together, in a way that comes as close as possible to natural law and best serves society, they uphold public order and individual happiness. In looking for the best principles common sense can suggest for forming a government, I was so struck to see all of them put into practice in yours that, even if I had not been born within your walls, I would have felt bound to offer this picture of human society to the people who, it seems to me, enjoy its greatest benefits and have done most to prevent its abuses.
If I had been able to choose where to be born, I would have chosen a society whose size was limited by the reach of human abilities—that is, by the possibility of governing it well. Everyone would have been equal to the task assigned to them, so nobody would have had to hand over their duties to someone else. In such a state, everyone would know everyone else. Neither the hidden schemes of vice nor the modesty of virtue could escape public view and judgment. The pleasant habit of seeing and knowing one another would make love of country a love of its citizens rather than of its soil.
I would have wanted to be born in a country where the sovereign and the people could have only one and the same interest, so that every part of the machinery of government would always work toward the common good. Since that is possible only when the people and the sovereign are the same body, I would have wanted to be born under a wisely moderated democratic government.
I would have wanted to live and die free. By that I mean subject to the laws so completely that neither I nor anyone else could throw off their honorable yoke. It is a helpful and gentle yoke, which the proudest people wear all the more willingly because they were made to wear no other.
I would therefore have wanted nobody in the state to be able to claim to stand above the law, and no outsider to be able to impose an authority the state was obliged to recognize. Whatever a government's constitution may be, if even one person is not subject to the law, everyone else is necessarily at that person's mercy. And if there is one native leader and another foreign one, however they divide authority between them, both cannot be properly obeyed and the state properly governed.
I would not have wanted to live in a newly founded republic, however good its laws might be. Its government might be organized in a way that did not suit its new citizens at that moment, or its citizens might not suit the new government. I would fear that the state might be shaken and destroyed almost at birth. Freedom is like rich, nourishing food or strong wine: it feeds and strengthens hardy people used to it, but overwhelms, harms, and intoxicates the weak and delicate who are not. Once people have become used to masters, they can no longer do without them. If they try to throw off the yoke, they move even further from freedom. They mistake uncontrolled license, freedom's opposite, for freedom itself, and their revolutions almost always deliver them into the hands of deceivers who only tighten their chains. Even the Roman people, the model for every free people, could not govern themselves when they escaped the oppression of the Tarquins. Degraded by slavery and the humiliating labor the Tarquins had forced on them, they were at first only an unthinking crowd that had to be treated carefully and governed with the greatest wisdom. Only as they gradually grew used to breathing freedom's healthy air could these spirits, weakened—or rather brutalized—by tyranny acquire, step by step, the strict morals and proud courage that eventually made them the most respected of peoples. So I would have looked for a happy, peaceful republic as my homeland, one whose beginnings were almost lost in the distant past. Its only hardships would have been those that revealed and strengthened its people's courage and love of country. Long accustomed to wise independence, its citizens would be not just free but worthy of freedom.
I would have wanted a homeland whose fortunate lack of power kept it from the savage desire for conquest, and whose still more fortunate location protected it from the fear of being conquered by another state. It would be a free city between several peoples, none of whom would gain by invading it, and each of whom would gain by stopping the others from invading it. In short, it would be a republic that did not tempt its neighbors' ambition and could reasonably count on their help if needed. In such a fortunate position, it would have nothing to fear but itself. If its citizens trained in arms, they would do so less because they needed to defend themselves than because training kept alive the fighting spirit and proud courage that fit freedom so well and sustain their love for it.
I would have looked for a country where all citizens shared the right to make laws. Who could know better than they the conditions under which they should live together in one society? But I would not approve of plebiscites like those of the Romans. There the leaders of the state, who had the greatest stake in keeping it alive, were excluded from decisions on which its survival often depended. In an absurd inconsistency, magistrates were denied rights that ordinary citizens enjoyed.
Instead, to stop self-serving, ill-conceived plans and the dangerous innovations that eventually ruined the Athenians, I would have wanted no one to be free to propose new laws on a whim. That right would belong only to the magistrates. Even they would use it with great care, while the people would be equally cautious about giving their consent. Laws could be made public only with such solemnity that, before the constitution was shaken, there would be time to recognize that it is above all a law's great age that makes it sacred and worthy of respect. People soon come to scorn laws they see changed every day. And when they get used to neglecting old customs on the pretext of making improvements, they often introduce great evils to correct smaller ones.
Above all, I would have avoided a republic that was necessarily badly governed because its people thought they could do without their magistrates, or leave them only uncertain authority, and had unwisely kept control of civil administration and the enforcement of their own laws. Such must have been the crude arrangement of the first governments to emerge directly from the state of nature. It was also one of the faults that ruined the republic of Athens.
I would instead have chosen a republic where individuals were content to approve laws and, acting together on the advice of their leaders, decide the most important public matters. They would establish respected courts and carefully distinguish their various areas of responsibility. Each year they would elect the most capable and upright of their fellow citizens to administer justice and govern the state. The virtue of the magistrates would then show the wisdom of the people, and each would bring honor to the other. If disastrous misunderstandings ever disturbed public harmony, even those times of blindness and error would show moderation, mutual regard, and a shared respect for the laws. These would promise and ensure a sincere, lasting reconciliation.
These, magnificent, highly honored, and sovereign lords, are the benefits I would have sought in the homeland I chose. If Providence had also given it a charming setting, a mild climate, fertile land, and the most delightful view under heaven, I would have wanted just one more thing to complete my happiness: to enjoy all these blessings in that happy homeland. I would live peacefully and pleasantly among my fellow citizens, show them humanity, friendship, and every virtue, as they would show these to me, and leave behind the honorable memory of a good man and an honest, virtuous patriot.
If, less fortunate or wise too late, I had been forced to end a sickly, declining life in another climate, regretting in vain the peace and rest that my reckless youth had cost me, I would at least have kept alive in my heart the feelings I could no longer put to use in my country. With a tender, selfless affection for my distant fellow citizens, I would have addressed them from the bottom of my heart in roughly these words:
My dear fellow citizens, or rather my brothers, since ties of blood as well as law unite almost all of us, I cannot think of you without thinking of all the good things you enjoy. Perhaps none of you knows their value better than I, who have lost them. The more I think about your political and civil condition, the harder it is for me to imagine that human affairs could allow a better one. In every other government, when people try to secure the greatest good of the state, they always get no further than proposals in theory or, at most, mere possibilities. Your happiness is already made; you need only enjoy it. To become completely happy, you need only know how to be content with your happiness. Your sovereignty, won or recovered by the sword and preserved through two centuries of courage and wisdom, is at last fully recognized everywhere. Honorable treaties fix your borders, protect your rights, and secure your peace. Your constitution is excellent, formed by the highest reason and guaranteed by friendly, respected powers. Your state is peaceful; you need fear neither wars nor conquerors. You have no masters but wise laws that you made yourselves and that upright magistrates of your own choosing administer. You are neither rich enough to grow weak through comfort and lose your taste for real happiness and solid virtues amid empty pleasures, nor poor enough to need more outside help than your own work provides. And this precious freedom, which great nations can maintain only through crushing taxes, costs you almost nothing to preserve.