Part II, Chapter XXIX, 2

As for rebellion against monarchy in particular, one of its most common causes is the reading of books on politics and the histories of the ancient Greeks and Romans. Young men, and others without the antidote of sound reason, receive from these books a powerful and pleasurable impression of the great feats of war achieved by the commanders of their armies. They come to admire everything else those commanders did as well, and imagine that their extraordinary prosperity arose not from the rivalry of particular men but from the excellence of their popular form of government. They give no thought to the frequent seditions and civil wars produced by defects in that government. From reading such books, I say, men have undertaken to kill their kings because Greek and Latin writers, in their works and discussions of politics, pronounce it lawful and praiseworthy for anyone to do so, provided that he first calls the king a tyrant. They say that not regicide, the killing of a king, but tyrannicide, the killing of a tyrant, is lawful. From the same books, people living under a monarch acquire the belief that subjects in a popular Common-wealth enjoy liberty, while those in a monarchy are all slaves. I say that those living under a monarchy acquire this belief, not those living under a popular government, who find no such thing. In short, I cannot imagine anything more harmful to a monarchy than allowing these books to be read publicly without at once applying the remedies of judicious teachers to draw out their venom. I do not hesitate to compare that venom to the bite of a rabid dog, which causes the disease physicians call hydrophobia, or fear of water. The person bitten suffers an unceasing torment of thirst yet recoils from water, as though the poison were trying to turn him into a dog. So, too, when a monarchy has been bitten to the quick by democratic writers who continually snarl at that form of government, nothing is more needed than a strong monarch; yet through a kind of tyrannophobia, a fear of firm government, its people recoil from him when they have him.

Just as there have been teachers who hold that a man has three souls, so there are others who think a Common-wealth may have more than one soul—that is, more than one Sovereign. They set up supremacy against sovereignty, canons against laws, and spiritual authority against civil authority. They work upon men's minds with words and distinctions that mean nothing in themselves, but whose very obscurity betrays the presence, as some imagine, of another kingdom moving invisibly in the dark, a kingdom of fairies. Now it is plain that civil power and the power of the Common-wealth are the same, and that supremacy, and the power to make canons and grant faculties, imply a Common-wealth. It follows that where one is Sovereign and another supreme, where one can make laws and another canons, there must be two Common-wealths composed of the same subjects: a kingdom divided against itself, which cannot stand. Despite the meaningless distinction between temporal and spiritual, these remain two kingdoms, and every subject serves two masters. For when the spiritual power claims the right to declare what is sin, it consequently claims the right to declare what is law, since sin is nothing but the transgression of law. And when the civil power likewise claims the right to declare what is law, every subject must obey two masters, both of whom demand that their commands be observed as law; that is impossible. Or, if there is only one kingdom, either the civil power, the power of the Common-wealth, must be subordinate to the spiritual, or the spiritual must be subordinate to the temporal; in the latter case there is no supremacy but the temporal. When these two powers oppose one another, therefore, the Common-wealth must be in grave danger of civil war and dissolution. Civil authority is more visible, and stands in the clearer light of natural reason, so it cannot fail at any time to draw a substantial share of the people to itself. Spiritual authority, though it stands in the darkness of scholastic distinctions and difficult words, nevertheless finds a party large enough to disturb, and sometimes destroy, a Common-wealth, because fear of darkness and ghosts is stronger than other fears. This disease may aptly be compared to epilepsy, or falling sickness, which the Jews took to be a form of possession by spirits, in the natural body. In that disease an unnatural spirit or wind in the head obstructs the roots of the nerves and shakes them violently. It takes away the movement they should naturally receive from the power of the soul in the brain and produces violent, irregular movements in the limbs, called convulsions. The sufferer sometimes falls into water and sometimes into fire, as though deprived of his senses. So also in the body politic: when spiritual power, through fear of punishments and hope of rewards, moves the members of the Common-wealth—its nerves—in a way different from the movement they ought to receive from civil power, the soul of the Common-wealth, and stifles the people with strange and difficult words, it either overwhelms the Common-wealth with oppression or casts it into the fire of civil war.

Sometimes even a purely civil government has more than one soul. The power to levy money, its nutritive faculty, may depend on a general assembly; the power of command and direction, its faculty of motion, on one man; and the power to make laws, its rational faculty, on the contingent agreement not only of those two but of a third as well. This endangers the Common-wealth, sometimes for want of agreement on good laws, but more often for want of the nourishment necessary to life and motion. Few perceive that this is not a government but a division of the Common-wealth into three factions, and call it a mixed monarchy. In truth, however, it is not one independent Common-wealth but three independent factions, not one representative person but three. In the Kingdome of God there may be three independent Persons without any breach in the unity of the God who reigns; but it cannot be so where those who reign are human beings, subject to different opinions. Thus if the king bears the person of the people, the general assembly also bears the person of the people, and another assembly bears the person of a part of the people, they are not one person and one Sovereign, but three persons and three Sovereigns.

I do not know what disease of the natural human body exactly resembles this disorder in a Common-wealth. But I have seen a man with another man growing from his side, complete with his own head, arms, chest, and stomach. Had another man grown from his other side as well, the comparison would have been exact.

So far I have named the diseases of a Common-wealth that present the greatest and most immediate danger. There are others, less serious, but still worth observing. The first is the difficulty of raising money for the necessary purposes of the Common-wealth, especially when war approaches. This arises from each subject's belief that his property in his lands and goods excludes the Sovereign's right to use them. Consequently, the Sovereign power foresees the Common-wealth's needs and dangers but finds the passage of money to the public treasury blocked by the people's tenacity. When it ought to extend itself to confront and prevent these dangers at their outset, it contracts as long as it can. When it can contract no longer, it struggles against the people by stratagems of law to obtain small sums. These prove insufficient, and at last it must violently force open a way to meet its immediate needs, or perish. Driven often to such extremes, it eventually brings the people to a proper disposition, or else the Common-wealth must perish. We may aptly compare this disorder to an ague. When the fleshy parts are congealed or obstructed by poisonous matter, the veins that naturally empty into the heart do not receive their proper supply from the arteries. First comes a cold contraction and trembling of the limbs; afterward the heart strives hotly and strongly to force a passage for the blood. Before it succeeds, it makes do with the little relief of things that cool it for a while, until, if nature is strong enough, it finally breaks the resistance of the obstructed parts and releases the poison in sweat; if nature is too weak, the patient dies.

Another disease of the Common-wealth resembles pleurisy: the public treasure flows out of its proper course and accumulates excessively in the hands of one or a few private men through monopolies or leases of public revenues. In the same way, blood entering the membrane of the chest in pleurisy produces inflammation, fever, and painful stitches.

The popularity of a powerful subject is also a dangerous disease, unless the Common-wealth has very good assurance of his loyalty. The people, who ought to take their direction from the Sovereign's authority, are drawn by the flattery and reputation of an ambitious man away from obedience to the laws and into following someone whose virtues and designs they do not know. This is usually more dangerous under popular government than under monarchy, for they may easily be made to believe that they themselves are the People. Thus Julius Caesar, raised up by the People against the Senate, won the affection of his army and made himself master of both Senate and People. Such conduct by popular and ambitious men is outright rebellion, and may be likened to the effects of witchcraft.

Another infirmity of a Common-wealth is the excessive size of a city able to provide, from within its own bounds, the men and expense of a large army. So too is the great number of corporations, which are like many lesser Common-wealths in the bowels of a larger one, like worms in a human being's intestines.

To these may be added the freedom claimed by pretenders to political wisdom to dispute against absolute power. Though they mostly arise from the dregs of the people, false doctrines animate them to meddle endlessly with the fundamental laws, troubling the Common-wealth like the little worms physicians call ascarides.

We may add the insatiable appetite, or bulimia, for expanding dominion, and the incurable wounds so often received from enemies as a result; the growths of conquests that remain unassimilated, which often prove a burden and could be lost with less danger than they are kept; and the lethargy of ease and the wasting disease of riotous living and vain expense.

Lastly, when enemies win a final victory in a war, whether foreign or civil, so that the forces of the Common-wealth can no longer hold the field and subjects can no longer be protected in their loyalty, the Common-wealth is DISSOLVED. Everyone is then free to protect himself by whatever means his own discretion suggests. For the Sovereign is the public soul, giving life and motion to the Common-wealth; once that soul departs, it governs the members no more than a man's departed, though immortal, soul governs his corpse. Though another's act cannot extinguish the right of a sovereign monarch, it may extinguish the obligations of his subjects. Whoever lacks protection may seek it anywhere; and once he has found it, he is bound to protect his protector as long as he can, without falsely claiming that he submitted merely out of fear. But once the power of an assembly is suppressed, its right perishes altogether: the assembly itself is extinct, and sovereignty cannot possibly return to it.

CHAPTER XXX. OF THE OFFICE OF THE SOVEREIGN REPRESENTATIVE

As for rebellion against monarchy in particular, one of its most common causes is reading books on politics and the histories of the ancient Greeks and Romans. Young people and others without the protection of sound reasoning read about the great victories won by their generals. These accounts make a strong and pleasant impression on them. They then come to approve of everything else those generals did. They imagine that their great success came from the virtue of popular government, rather than from rivalry among particular men. They overlook the frequent rebellions and civil wars caused by defects in those governments. Such books, I say, have led people to try to kill their kings. Greek and Latin writers on politics say that anyone may rightly and honorably do so, provided that he calls the king a tyrant first. They do not say that regicide, the killing of a king, is lawful; they say that tyrannicide, the killing of a tyrant, is lawful. The same books lead people who live under a monarch to think that subjects in a popular Common-wealth are free, while subjects in a monarchy are all slaves. I say this is what people under monarchies think. People under popular governments do not think so, because they do not find it to be true. In short, I cannot imagine anything more harmful to monarchy than allowing such books to be read in public without immediately providing wise teachers to counteract their poison. I would compare this poison to the bite of a rabid dog, which produces the disease doctors call hydrophobia, or fear of water. Someone bitten in this way suffers constant thirst but cannot bear water. It is as though the poison were trying to turn him into a dog. Likewise, when writers in favor of democracy have deeply bitten a monarchy by constantly snarling at it, the monarchy needs nothing so much as a strong monarch. Yet from a kind of tyrannophobia, or fear of strong government, its people cannot stand him once they have him.

Some teachers hold that a person has three souls. Similarly, some think that a Common-wealth can have more than one soul, that is, more than one Sovereign. They set up church supremacy against sovereignty, church rules against laws, and spiritual authority against civil authority. They influence people's minds with words and distinctions that mean nothing in themselves. Their obscurity only suggests that, as some think, another kingdom walks invisibly in the dark, like a fairy kingdom. But civil power and the power of the Common-wealth are plainly the same thing. Church supremacy, the power to make church rules, and the power to grant dispensations all imply the existence of a Common-wealth. So if one person is Sovereign and another supreme, and one can make laws while another makes church rules, the same subjects must belong to two Common-wealths. That is a kingdom divided against itself, which cannot stand. Calling the two powers temporal and spiritual is a meaningless distinction. They remain two kingdoms, and every subject must serve two masters. The spiritual power claims the right to say what is sin. It therefore claims the right to say what is law, since sin is simply breaking the law. The civil power also claims the right to say what is law. Every subject must then obey two masters, each of whom insists that his commands be observed as law. That is impossible. Or, if there is only one kingdom, either the civil power, which is the power of the Common-wealth, must be subordinate to the spiritual power, or the spiritual power must be subordinate to the temporal power. In the latter case, only the temporal power is supreme. When these powers oppose each other, the Common-wealth is therefore in serious danger of civil war and collapse. Civil authority is more visible and clearer to natural reason, so it will always attract a substantial part of the people. Spiritual authority operates in the darkness of academic distinctions and difficult words. Yet fear of darkness and ghosts is stronger than other fears, so it too will have enough supporters to disturb and sometimes destroy a Common-wealth. This disease can be compared to epilepsy, or the falling sickness, which the Jews considered a kind of possession by spirits. In a human body, an abnormal spirit or wind in the head obstructs the roots of the nerves and violently moves them. It takes away the motion they ought naturally to get from the soul's power in the brain, causing violent and irregular movements called convulsions. A person suffering a fit can fall into water or fire as if he had lost his senses. Likewise, in the political body, spiritual power may move the members of a Common-wealth through fear of punishments and hope of rewards, which are its nerves, in a way different from that prescribed by civil power, which is its soul. It chokes the people with strange, difficult words and either overwhelms the Common-wealth with oppression or throws it into the fire of civil war.

Even a purely civil government can sometimes have more than one soul. The power to raise money, its faculty of nourishment, may belong to a general assembly. The power to lead and command, its faculty of motion, may belong to one man. And the power to make laws, its faculty of reason, may depend on whether those two and a third body happen to agree. This puts the Common-wealth in danger, sometimes because they cannot agree on good laws, but more often because it lacks the nourishment needed for life and movement. Few people realize that this arrangement is not government but the division of the Common-wealth into three factions, and they call it a mixed monarchy. In truth, it is not one independent Common-wealth but three independent factions. It has not one representative person but three. In the Kingdom of God there can be three independent Persons without dividing the unity of the God who reigns. That cannot be so when the rulers are human beings with differing opinions. If the king represents the people, a general assembly also represents the people, and another assembly represents part of the people, they are not one person or one Sovereign. They are three persons and three Sovereigns.

I do not know what disease of the human body exactly matches this disorder in a Common-wealth. But I once saw a man with another man growing out of his side, with a head, arms, chest, and stomach of his own. If a third man had grown out of his other side, the comparison would have been exact.

So far I have named the diseases that pose the greatest and most immediate dangers to a Common-wealth. There are other, lesser diseases worth noticing. One is the difficulty of raising money for public needs, especially when war approaches. This comes from every subject's belief that his land and goods are his property to the exclusion of the Sovereign's right to use them. The sovereign power can foresee the Common-wealth's needs and dangers, but the people's refusal to let money reach the public treasury blocks it. Rather than extending its power to meet and prevent dangers at their beginning, it contracts for as long as it can. When it can contract no longer, it struggles with the people through legal tactics to obtain small sums. When those sums prove insufficient, it must finally force a way through for immediate funds or perish. Repeated crises either bring the people back to the proper disposition or destroy the Common-wealth. We can aptly compare this illness to a fever. In a fever, the fleshy parts are hardened or blocked by poisonous matter. The veins, which naturally empty into the heart, do not receive the blood they should from the arteries. First the limbs contract with cold and shake. Next the heart makes a hot, powerful effort to force a path for the blood. Before it can do so, it makes do with small refreshments that cool it for a while. If the body is strong enough, it finally breaks through the stubborn obstruction and expels the poison in sweat. If it is too weak, the patient dies.

Another disease in a Common-wealth resembles pleurisy. The public treasury's money leaves its proper course and accumulates in excessive amounts in the hands of one or a few private individuals, through monopolies or contracts to collect public revenues. Likewise, in pleurisy, blood enters the membrane of the chest and causes inflammation, fever, and painful stabbing sensations.

The popularity of a powerful subject is another dangerous disease, unless the Common-wealth has very good assurance of his loyalty. The people should take direction from the Sovereign's authority. Instead, flattery and the reputation of an ambitious man draw them away from obedience to the laws. They follow someone whose virtues and plans they know nothing about. This is usually more dangerous in a popular government than in a monarchy, since such a man can easily make people believe that he and his supporters are the people. Thus Julius Caesar, whom the people had set against the Senate, won his army's affection and made himself master of both the Senate and the people. This behavior by popular and ambitious men is outright rebellion and can be compared to the effects of witchcraft.

Another weakness of a Common-wealth is a town so large that it can supply a great army, with all its men and expenses, from its own territory. So is the existence of many corporations. They are smaller Common-wealths within a greater one, like worms in a person's intestines.

We may add the freedom claimed by would-be political experts to argue against absolute power. Most come from the lowest levels of society. False doctrines encourage them to meddle constantly with the fundamental laws and disturb the Common-wealth. They resemble the small worms doctors call ascarides.

We may also add an insatiable appetite, or bulimia, for expanding a realm, together with the incurable wounds often received from enemies as a result. There are also the tumors formed by conquests that are not united to the state. They are often a burden and can be lost with less danger than they can be kept. Add the sluggishness brought on by comfort, and the wasting sickness of extravagance and needless spending.

Finally, if enemies win a decisive victory in a foreign or civil war, the Common-wealth's forces can no longer remain in the field or protect subjects who remain loyal. The Common-wealth is then dissolved. Each person is free to protect himself in whatever way he thinks best. The Sovereign is the public soul that gives the Common-wealth life and movement. Once that soul departs, it can no more govern the members than a person's departed, though immortal, soul can govern his corpse. Another person's actions cannot extinguish a sovereign monarch's right, but the members' obligation can end. Someone without protection may seek it anywhere. Once he receives it, he is obliged to defend his protector as long as he can. He cannot evade that duty by falsely claiming that he submitted only out of fear. But when an assembly's power has been suppressed, its right ends altogether. The assembly itself no longer exists, so its sovereignty cannot return.

CHAPTER XXX. ON THE DUTY OF THE SOVEREIGN REPRESENTATIVE