Voltaire · Complete work
Letter VIII
Letter VIII of 24. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
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sur le parlement.
Les membres du parlement d’Angleterre aiment à se compareraux anciens Romains autant qu’ils le peuvent.
Il n’y a pas longtemps que M. Shipping, dans la chambre descommunes, commença son discours par ces mots: « La majestédu peuple anglais serait blessée, etc. » La singularité de l’expressioncausa un grand éclat de rire; mais, sans se déconcerter, ilrépéta les mêmes paroles d’un air ferme, et on ne rit plus. J’avoueque je ne vois rien de commun entre la majesté du peuple anglaiset celle du peuple romain, encore moins entre leurs gouvernements;il y a un sénat à Londres dont quelques membres sontsoupçonnés, quoique à tort sans doute, de vendre leurs voix dansl’occasion, comme on faisait à Rome: voilà toute la ressemblance.D’ailleurs les deux nations me paraissent entièrement différentes,soit en bien, soit en mal. On n’a jamais connu chez les Romainsla folie horrible des guerres de religion: cette abomination étaitréservée à des dévots prêcheurs d’humilité et de patience. Mariuset Sylla, Pompée et César, Antoine et Auguste, ne se battaientpoint pour décider si le flamen devait porter sa chemise par-dessussa robe, ou sa robe par-dessus sa chemise, et si les poulets sacrésdevaient manger et boire, ou bien manger seulement, pour qu’onprît les augures. Les Anglais se sont fait pendre autrefois réciproquementà leurs assises, et se sont détruits en bataille rangéepour des querelles de pareille espèce; la secte des épiscopaux etle presbytérianisme ont tourné pour un temps ces têtes mélancoliques. Je m’imagine que pareille sottise ne leur arrivera plus;ils me paraissent devenir sages à leurs dépens, et je ne leur voisnulle envie de s’égorger dorénavant pour des syllogismes. Toutefois,qui peut répondre des hommes?
Voici une différence plus essentielle entre Rome et l’Angleterre,qui met tout l’avantage du côté de la dernière: c’est que le fruitdes guerres civiles de Rome a été l’esclavage, et celui des troublesd’Angleterre, la liberté. La nation anglaise est la seule de la terrequi soit parvenue à régler le pouvoir des rois en leur résistant,et qui d’efforts en efforts ait enfin établi ce gouvernement sage oùle prince, tout-puissant pour faire du bien, aies mains liées pourfaire du mal; où les seigneurs sont grands sans insolence et sansvassaux, et où le peuple partage le gouvernement sans confusion.
La chambre des pairs et celle des communes sont les arbitresde la nation, le roi est le surarbitre. Cette balance manquait auxRomains: les grands et le peuple étaient toujours en division àRome, sans qu’il y eût un pouvoir mitoyen qui pût les accorder.Le sénat de Rome, qui avait l’injuste et punissable orgueil de nevouloir rien partager avec les plébéiens, ne connaissait d’autresecret, pour les éloigner du gouvernement, que de les occupertoujours dans les guerres étrangères. Il regardait le peuple commeune bête féroce qu’il fallait lâcher sur leurs voisins de peur qu’ellene dévorât ses maîtres: ainsi le plus grand défaut du gouvernementdes Romains en fit des conquérants; c’est parce qu’ils étaientmalheureux chez eux qu’ils devinrent les maîtres du monde,jusqu’à ce qu’enfin leurs divisions les rendirent esclaves.
Le gouvernement d’Angleterre n’est point fait pour un sigrand éclat, ni pour une fin si funeste; son but n’est point labrillante folie de faire des conquêtes, mais d’empêcher que sesvoisins n’en fassent; ce peuple n’est pas seulement jaloux de saliberté, il l’est encore de celle des autres. Les Anglais étaientacharnés contre Louis XIV, uniquement parce qu’ils lui croyaientde l’ambition.
Il en a coûté sans doute pour établir la liberté en Angleterre;c’est dans des mers de sang qu’on a noyé l’idole du pouvoir despotique;mais les Anglais ne croient point avoir acheté trop cherleurs lois. Les autres nations n’ont pas eu moins de troubles,n’ont pas versé moins de sang qu’eux: mais ce sang qu’elles ontrépandu pour la cause de leur liberté n’a fait que cimenter leurservitude.
Ce qui devient une révolution en Angleterre n’est qu’une séditiondans les autres pays. Une ville prend les armes pour défendreses privilèges, soit en Espagne, soit en Barbarie, soit en Turquie:aussitôt des soldats mercenaires la subjuguent, des bourreaux lapunissent, et le reste de la nation baise ses chaînes. Les Françaispensent que le gouvernement de cette île est plus orageux que lamer qui l’environne, et cela est vrai: mais c’est quand le roicommence la tempête, c’est quand il veut se rendre le maître duvaisseau dont il n’est que le premier pilote. Les guerres civiles deFrance ont été plus longues, plus cruelles, plus fécondes eucrimes, que celles d’Angleterre; mais de toutes ces guerres civilesaucune n’a eu une liberté sage pour objet.
Dans les temps détestables de Charles IX et de Henri III, ils’agissait seulement de savoir si on serait l’esclave des Guises. Pourla dernière guerre de Paris, elle ne mérite que des sifflets; il mesemble que je vois des écoliers qui se mutinent contre le préfetd’un collège, et qui finissent par être fouettés; le cardinal deRetz, avec beaucoup d’esprit et de courage mal employés, rebellesans aucun sujet, factieux sans dessein, chef de parti sans armée,cabalait pour cabaler, et semblait faire la guerre civile pour sonplaisir. Le parlement ne savait ce qu’il voulait, ni ce qu’il nevoulait pas; il levait des troupes par arrêt, il les cassait, il menaçaitet demandait pardon; il mettait à prix la tête du cardinalMazarin, et ensuite venait le complimenter en cérémonie: nosguerres civiles sous Charles VI avaient été cruelles, celles de laLigue furent abominables, celle de la Fronde fut ridicule.
Ce qu’on reproche le plus en France aux Anglais, c’est le supplicede Charles Ier monarque digne d’un meilleur sort, quifut traité par ses vainqueurs comme il les eût traités s’il eût étéheureux.
Après tout, regardez d’un côté Charles Ier vaincu en bataillerangée, prisonnier, jugé, condamné dans Westminster, et décapité;et de l’autre l’empereur Henri VII empoisonné par sonchapelain en communiant, Henri III assassiné par un moine,trente assassinats médités contre Henri IV, plusieurs exécutés, etle dernier privant enfin la France de ce grand roi. Pesez cesattentats, et jugez.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the French text of all twenty-four letters (Garnier edition, 1879, French Wikisource) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity.
On Parliament
The members of the Parliament of England like to compare themselves to the ancient Romans whenever they can.
Not long ago Mr. Shipping began a speech in the House of Commons with these words: “The majesty of the English people would be offended, etc.” The singularity of the expression provoked a great burst of laughter; but without losing his composure, he repeated the same words firmly, and no one laughed again. I confess that I see nothing in common between the majesty of the English people and that of the Roman people, still less between their governments; there is a senate in London whose members are sometimes suspected, though surely without cause, of selling their votes when the occasion arises, as they did at Rome: that is the whole resemblance. In other respects the two nations seem to me entirely different, for good or ill. The Romans never knew the hideous madness of wars of religion: that abomination was reserved for devout preachers of humility and patience. Marius and Sulla, Pompey and Caesar, Antony and Augustus, did not fight to decide whether the flamen should wear his shirt over his robe or his robe over his shirt, and whether the sacred chickens should eat and drink, or only eat, when the auguries were taken. The English once had one another hanged by their courts and destroyed one another in pitched battles over quarrels of this kind; the episcopal sect and Presbyterianism turned those melancholy heads for a time. I imagine that the same folly will not overtake them again; they seem to be growing wise at their own expense, and I see no desire in them to cut one another's throats hereafter over syllogisms. Yet who can answer for human beings?
Here is a more essential difference between Rome and England, and one that is altogether to England's advantage: the fruit of Rome's civil wars was slavery, while the fruit of England's troubles was liberty. The English nation is the only one on earth that has managed to limit the power of kings by resisting them, and that through effort after effort has finally established a wise government in which the prince, all-powerful to do good, has his hands tied when it comes to doing evil; in which the lords are great without insolence and without vassals; and in which the people share in government without disorder.
The House of Lords and the House of Commons are the arbiters of the nation; the king is the supreme arbiter. This balance was lacking among the Romans: the great and the people were always divided at Rome, with no intermediary power to reconcile them. The Roman senate, with its unjust and culpable pride in refusing to share anything with the plebeians, knew no way to keep them away from government except to keep them constantly busy with foreign wars. It regarded the people as a ferocious beast that had to be loosed upon its neighbors for fear it would devour its masters: thus the greatest defect in the Roman government made the Romans conquerors; because they were unhappy at home, they became masters of the world, until at last their divisions made them slaves.
The government of England is not made for such dazzling glory or such a disastrous end; its aim is not the brilliant madness of conquest, but to prevent its neighbors from conquering; this people is jealous not only of its own liberty, but of the liberty of others as well. The English were implacable toward Louis XIV solely because they believed him ambitious.
There is no doubt that establishing liberty in England came at a cost; the idol of despotic power was drowned in seas of blood; but the English do not believe they paid too much for their laws. Other nations have endured no fewer troubles, have shed no less blood: but the blood they shed for the cause of their liberty merely cemented their servitude.
What becomes a revolution in England is only a sedition in other countries. A city takes up arms to defend its privileges, whether in Spain, Barbary, or Turkey: at once mercenary soldiers subdue it, executioners punish it, and the rest of the nation kisses its chains. The French think the government of this island more storm-tossed than the sea that surrounds it, and that is true: but it is when the king starts the storm, when he seeks to become master of the ship of which he is only the chief pilot. The civil wars of France were longer, more cruel, and more prolific in crimes than those of England; but of all those civil wars not one had wise liberty as its object.
In the detestable days of Charles IX and Henry III, the only question was whether people would be slaves of the Guises. As for the last war in Paris, it deserves nothing but hisses; I seem to see schoolboys rebelling against the head of a school and ending by being whipped. Cardinal de Retz, with much wit and courage put to bad use, a rebel without cause, a faction leader without purpose, a party chief without an army, schemed for the sake of scheming and seemed to make civil war for his own pleasure. Parliament did not know what it wanted or what it did not want; it raised troops by decree, dismissed them, threatened and begged pardon; it put a price on Cardinal Mazarin's head, then came to pay him ceremonial compliments: our civil wars under Charles VI had been cruel, those of the League were abominable, that of the Fronde was ridiculous.
The charge most often made against the English in France is the execution of Charles I, a monarch worthy of a better fate, who was treated by his victors as he would have treated them had he prevailed.
After all, consider on the one hand Charles I, defeated in pitched battle, imprisoned, tried, condemned in Westminster, and beheaded; and on the other the emperor Henry VII poisoned by his chaplain while taking communion, Henry III assassinated by a monk, thirty assassination plots against Henry IV, several carried out, and the last at length robbing France of that great king. Weigh these attacks, and judge.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the French text of all twenty-four letters (Garnier edition, 1879, French Wikisource).
On Parliament
Members of the English Parliament like to compare themselves to the ancient Romans whenever they can.
Not long ago, Mr. Shipping began a speech in the House of Commons with these words: “The majesty of the English people would be offended, etc.” His odd choice of words brought a roar of laughter. But he was not rattled. He repeated the same words firmly, and no one laughed again. I admit that I see nothing in common between the majesty of the English people and that of the Roman people, much less between their governments. London has a senate whose members are sometimes suspected, wrongly no doubt, of selling their votes when the opportunity arises, just as people did in Rome. That is the whole resemblance. In all other respects the two nations seem entirely different to me, for better and for worse. The Romans never knew the horrible madness of religious wars. That abomination was left to pious preachers of humility and patience. Marius and Sulla, Pompey and Caesar, Antony and Augustus, did not fight to decide whether a priest should wear his shirt over his robe or his robe over his shirt. Nor did they fight about whether the sacred chickens had to eat and drink, or only eat, before people took the omens. In the past the English hanged one another after trials and killed one another in open battle over quarrels of this kind. The bishops' sect and the Presbyterians drove these gloomy heads mad for a while. I imagine they will not do anything so foolish again. They seem to be learning wisdom the hard way, and I see no desire in them to go on cutting each other's throats over syllogisms. Still, who can answer for what people will do?
Here is a more important difference between Rome and England, one entirely to England's advantage. Rome's civil wars ended in slavery; England's upheavals ended in freedom. The English are the only people on earth to have succeeded in limiting the power of kings by resisting them. By one effort after another, they finally set up a sensible government. In it, the ruler has every power to do good but is prevented from doing harm. The lords have high rank without arrogance and without vassals. The people share in government without disorder.
The House of Lords and the House of Commons are the nation's judges, and the king is the final judge above them. The Romans lacked this balance. The powerful and the ordinary people were always divided in Rome, with no power between them to bring them together. The Roman senate was so unjustly and blameworthily proud that it would share nothing with the common people. It knew only one way to keep them out of government: keep them busy with foreign wars. The senate saw the people as a wild animal that had to be set loose on its neighbors, for fear it would eat its masters. So the greatest flaw in the Roman government made the Romans conquerors. Because they were unhappy at home, they became masters of the world, until at last their divisions made them slaves.
England's government is not designed for such dazzling success or such a disastrous end. Its aim is not the spectacular madness of making conquests, but stopping its neighbors from making them. The English guard not just their own freedom but other people's freedom too. They fiercely opposed Louis XIV solely because they believed he was ambitious.
Establishing freedom in England certainly came at a cost. The idol of despotic power was drowned in seas of blood. But the English do not think they paid too much for their laws. Other nations have had no fewer upheavals and have shed no less blood. Yet the blood they shed for their freedom has only strengthened their servitude.
What becomes a revolution in England is only a failed uprising in other countries. A city in Spain, Barbary, or Turkey takes up arms to defend its privileges. Mercenary soldiers immediately subdue it, executioners punish it, and the rest of the nation kisses its chains. The French think the government of this island is more stormy than the sea around it. That is true, but it happens when the king starts the storm, when he tries to take command of a ship on which he is only the chief pilot. France's civil wars were longer, crueler, and more full of crimes than England's. Yet not one of all those civil wars had sensible freedom as its goal.
In the dreadful times of Charles IX and Henry III, the only question was whether people would be slaves to the Guises. As for the last war in Paris, it deserves nothing but boos. I seem to see schoolboys rebelling against their school's headmaster and ending up whipped. Cardinal de Retz had plenty of wit and courage, both badly used. He was a rebel without a cause, a troublemaker without a plan, and the leader of a party without an army. He plotted for the sake of plotting and seemed to wage civil war for his own amusement. Parliament did not know what it wanted or what it did not want. By decree it raised troops, then dismissed them. It threatened and then begged forgiveness. It put a price on Cardinal Mazarin's head and then came to pay him formal compliments. Our civil wars under Charles VI were cruel; those of the League were appalling; that of the Fronde was ridiculous.
What the French most often reproach the English for is the execution of Charles I, a king who deserved a better fate. His victors treated him as he would have treated them had he won.
After all, look on one side at Charles I, defeated in open battle, taken prisoner, tried, condemned in Westminster, and beheaded. On the other, look at Emperor Henry VII, poisoned by his chaplain as he took communion; Henry III, murdered by a monk; and the thirty plots to murder Henry IV, several of them carried out, the last of which finally robbed France of that great king. Weigh these crimes and judge for yourself.