Part II, Chapter XXV, 2

As I have distinguished counsel from command by the nature of counsel—its account of the benefit or harm that may come to the person counseled through the necessary or probable consequences of a proposed action—so the difference between capable and incapable counselors may be derived from the same nature. Experience is only the memory of the consequences observed in similar actions before, and counsel is speech that communicates that experience to another. The virtues and defects of counsel are therefore the same as the virtues and defects of the intellect; counselors serve the person of a Common-wealth as memory and mental deliberation serve a natural man. But this resemblance between a Common-wealth and a natural man carries one important difference: a natural man gains experience from objects of sense, which act on him without any Passions or interests of their own; those who counsel a Common-wealth’s representative, by contrast, may have—and often do have—private aims and Passions that always cast suspicion on their counsel and often make it unfaithful. We may therefore establish as the first condition of a good counselor that his aims and interests must not conflict with those of the person he counsels.

Second, when an action is under deliberation, a counselor’s task is to reveal its consequences so that the person counseled may be truly and clearly informed. He should therefore present his advice in language that makes the truth as clear as possible: with reasoning as sound, words as precise and fitting, and expression as brief as clarity permits. Thus hasty and unsupported inferences—such as those drawn only from examples or the authority of books, which testify to facts or opinions rather than proving what is good or bad—obscure, confused, and ambiguous expressions, and metaphors meant to stir Passions all run counter to a counselor’s office. Such reasoning and language serve only to deceive, or to lead the person counseled toward ends other than his own.

Third, since skill in counsel comes from experience and long study, and no one can be presumed experienced in everything necessary to administer a great Common-wealth, no one should be presumed a good counselor except in matters in which he has both extensive experience and much thoughtful reflection. A Common-wealth must preserve its people at home and defend them from foreign invasion. This requires a deep knowledge of human dispositions, the rights of government, and the nature of equity, law, justice, and honor—knowledge unattainable without study. It also requires knowledge of the strength, commodities, and locations of one’s own country and its neighbors, and of the inclinations and plans of every nation that might threaten it; that cannot be gained without extensive experience. The whole range of these matters, and indeed every particular, calls for the years and observations of a mature person and for more than ordinary study. As I said before, the faculty needed for counsel is judgment; differences between men in judgment arise because their education equips some for one field of study or business, others for another. Where there are infallible rules for doing something, as there are rules of geometry for machines and buildings, all the experience in the world cannot equal the counsel of one who has learned or discovered the rule. Where there is no such rule, the man with most experience in that particular kind of business has the best judgment in it and is the best counselor.

Fourth, to counsel a Common-wealth in a matter concerning another Common-wealth, one must know the intelligence and letters received from it, and all the records of treaties and other affairs of state between them. Only those whom the representative considers fit can have access to these. We can therefore see that people not invited to give counsel cannot offer sound counsel in such matters unasked.

Fifth, assuming an equal number of counselors, a man is better counseled by hearing each separately than by hearing them in an assembly, for several reasons. First, separate consultations give him each man’s advice. In an assembly many express their advice with an “Aye” or “No,” or by moving their hands or feet, prompted not by their own judgment but by another’s eloquence, or by fear of displeasing a speaker or the whole assembly through contradiction, or of seeming less perceptive than those who applauded the opposing view. Second, an assembly of many is bound to include some whose interests conflict with the public interest. Their interests make them passionate, Passion makes them eloquent, and eloquence draws others to their advice. Men’s Passions, moderate when apart, like the heat of a single firebrand, become in an assembly like a heap of brands that kindle one another—especially when fanned by speeches—until they set the Common-wealth on fire in the name of counseling it. Third, hearing each man alone allows one, when needed, to test the truth or probability of his reasons and the grounds of his advice by frequent questions and objections. That cannot be done in an assembly, where, on any difficult question, a man is more likely to be astonished and dazzled by the variety of arguments than informed of the course to take. Moreover, any large assembly called together for advice must include some who aspire to a reputation for eloquence and political learning. They attend not to the business proposed but to the applause won by their motley speeches, patched together from multicolored threads and scraps of authors. At the very least, this irrelevance wastes the time needed for serious consultation, and is easily avoided by counseling separately and in private. Fourth, many public affairs require secrecy, which the counsel of many, especially in assemblies, endangers. Large assemblies are therefore compelled to entrust such affairs to smaller groups, consisting of those most experienced and most trusted for their fidelity.

Finally, who so approves taking counsel from a great assembly of counselors that he would seek or accept their services in marrying his children, disposing of his lands, governing his household, or managing his private estate—especially if some members wished him ill? A man who conducts his business with the aid of many prudent counselors, each consulted separately on his own subject, does best, like a tennis player who uses capable assistants stationed in their proper places. One who relies on his own judgment does next best, like a player with no assistant at all. But the man carried about his business in a contrived council that cannot move without a majority of consenting opinions, whose decisions are commonly delayed by dissenters out of envy or self-interest, does worst of all. He is like a player carried toward the ball by skilled players, but in a wheelbarrow or other frame that is heavy in itself and further slowed by the conflicting judgments and efforts of those who push it. The more hands push, the worse it becomes—worst of all when one or more of them want him to lose. It is true that many eyes see more than one; but this applies to counselors only when the final decision lies with one man. Otherwise, many eyes see the same object from different angles and are apt to squint toward private benefit. Those who do not wish to miss their mark may look about with two eyes, but they aim with only one. Thus no great popular Common-wealth has ever been sustained except by a foreign enemy that united its people, the reputation of one eminent man among them, the private counsel of a few, or the mutual fear of evenly matched factions—not by the assembly’s open consultations. As for very small Common-wealths, whether popular or monarchical, no human wisdom can uphold them longer than the jealousy of their powerful neighbors endures.

CHAPTER XXVI. OF CIVIL LAWS

I have explained how advice differs from a command by looking at the nature of advice. Advice shows the benefits or harms that must or may probably follow for the person advised from a proposed action. The same idea tells us what makes counselors suitable or unsuitable. Experience is only the memory of what followed similar actions in the past, and advice is how we communicate that experience to someone else. So the strengths and weaknesses of advice are the same as those of the intellect. Counselors serve as memory and thought for the person representing a commonwealth. Yet there is one important difference between a commonwealth and a human being. A person gains experience from things perceived by the senses, which have no passions or interests of their own. Those who advise the commonwealth's representative, by contrast, may have their own goals and passions, and often do. Their advice is therefore always open to suspicion and often untrustworthy. The first requirement for a good counselor is thus that their goals and interests do not conflict with those of the person they advise.

Second, a counselor's job when an action is being considered is to make its consequences clear, so the listener gets an accurate and clear picture. The advice must be presented in a way that makes the truth as clear as possible. It must use sound reasoning and precise, appropriate language, and be as brief as clarity permits. Hasty or unsupported conclusions are therefore out of place. So are conclusions drawn only from examples or the authority of books, which testify to facts or opinions but do not prove what is good or bad. Vague, confused, or ambiguous language is also out of place, as are metaphors intended to stir passions. Such reasoning and language serve only to deceive or lead the person advised toward goals other than their own. They have no place in a counselor's work.

Third, skill at advising comes from experience and long study. No one can be assumed to know by experience everything necessary to govern a large commonwealth. A person can be considered a good counselor only on matters they have both dealt with extensively and thought about deeply. The commonwealth must protect its people at home and defend them against foreign invasion. This takes extensive knowledge of human nature, the rights of government, and the nature of equity, law, justice, and honor. These cannot be learned without study. It also takes knowledge of the strength, goods, and places of one's own country and its neighbors, along with the inclinations and plans of every nation that might harm it. This cannot be learned without extensive experience. Understanding the whole range of these matters, or even any one of them, takes years of observation and more than ordinary study. As I said before, the intelligence needed for giving advice is judgment. People's different abilities to judge come from different kinds of education, study, and work. When there are reliable rules for doing something, as geometry provides for machines and buildings, no amount of experience can equal the advice of someone who has learned or discovered the rule. When no such rule exists, the person with the most experience in that particular field has the best judgment and is the best counselor.

Fourth, anyone advising a commonwealth on a matter involving another commonwealth must know the intelligence and letters received from that state, along with all records of treaties and other dealings between the states. Only someone the representative considers suitable can have this access. Thus people who have not been asked to advise cannot properly force advice on the commonwealth in such cases.

Fifth, given the same number of counselors, it is better to hear them separately than in an assembly, for several reasons. First, separate meetings give you each person's advice. In an assembly, many express their view by saying yes or no, or moving their hands or feet. They may be following another's eloquence instead of their own judgment. They may fear upsetting a speaker or the whole assembly by disagreeing. Or they may fear appearing slower to understand than those who applauded the opposing view. Second, any large assembly is bound to include people whose interests oppose the public's. Their interests make them passionate, passion makes them eloquent, and eloquence draws others to their view. Separate people's passions burn moderately, like single pieces of burning wood. Together they are like a pile of burning wood setting one another alight, especially when speakers fan the flames. Under the pretense of advising the commonwealth, they can set it on fire. Third, when hearing each person separately, one can interrupt and challenge them as often as necessary. This lets one test the truth or likelihood of their reasons and the grounds for their advice. In an assembly, difficult questions instead produce so many speeches that the listener is stunned and confused rather than informed about what to do. Also, any large advisory assembly will include people eager to seem eloquent and learned in politics. Instead of focusing on the matter at hand, they give colorful speeches stitched together from passages by various authors to win applause. At the least, this wastes time needed for serious discussion. Private, separate advice easily avoids the problem. Fourth, public business often calls for secrecy. Advice from many people, especially in assemblies, is dangerous in those cases. Large assemblies therefore have to entrust such affairs to smaller groups of the most experienced and trusted people.

In closing, who admires the practice of taking advice from a large assembly of counselors so much that they would want or accept its efforts when deciding whom their children should marry, how to divide their land, how to run their household, or how to manage their private estate? This is especially unlikely if some members of the assembly wish them harm. The best way to manage one's business is with the help of many wise counselors, each consulted separately on a subject they know well. It is like using skilled partners in their proper positions in a tennis game. The next best way is to rely on one's own judgment, like playing without a partner. The worst is to have a formal council carry one back and forth through one's business. Such a council cannot move without a majority in agreement, and those who disagree often delay the decision's execution through envy or self-interest. It is like being carried toward the ball by good players in a wheelbarrow or some other cumbersome frame. The players pushing it also slow it down because their judgments and efforts do not agree. The more people push, the worse it gets, especially when one or more want the player to lose. It is true that many eyes see more than one. But that supports having many counselors only if one person makes the final decision. Otherwise, many eyes see the same object along different lines and tend to glance sideways at private gain. Those who want to hit their target may look around with two eyes, but they aim with only one. For this reason, no large popular commonwealth has ever survived through open deliberation in its assembly. It has survived instead because a foreign enemy united its people, one outstanding person had great authority, a few people advised secretly, or equally strong factions feared each other. As for very small commonwealths, whether popular or monarchical, no human wisdom can sustain them longer than their powerful neighbors remain wary of one another.

Chapter XXVI. On civil laws