Thomas Hobbes · Complete work
Epistle Dedicatory
Epistle Dedicatory of 46. Read it here for reference, or continue through the entire work without leaving the reader.
Open the complete readerOriginal 17th-century English
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
WILLIAM EARL OF DEVONSHIRE,
MY MOST HONOURED LORD.
May it please your Lordship,
It was the speech of the Roman people, to whom the name of king had been rendered odious, as well by the tyranny of the Tarquins as by the genius and decretals of that city; it was the speech, I say, of the public, however pronounced from a private mouth, (if yet Cato the censor were no more than such): that all kings are to be reckoned amongst ravenous beasts. But what a beast of prey was the Roman people; whilst with its conquering eagles it erected its proud trophies so far and wide over the world, bringing the Africans, the Asiatics, the Macedonians, and the Achæans, with many other despoiled nations, into a specious bondage, with the pretence of preferring them to be denizens of Rome! So that if Cato’s saying were a wise one, it was every whit as wise, that of Pontius Telesinus; who flying about with open mouth through all the companies of his army in that famous encounter which he had with Sylla, cried out: that Rome herself as well as Sylla, was to be razed; for that there would always be wolves and depredators of their liberty, unless the forest that lodged them were grubbed up by the roots. To speak impartially, both sayings are very true: that man to man is a kind of God; and that man to man is an arrant wolf. The first is true, if we compare citizens amongst themselves; and the second, if we compare cities. In the one, there is some analogy of similitude with the Deity; to wit, justice and charity, the twin sisters of peace. But in the other, good men must defend themselves by taking to them for a sanctuary the two daughters of war, deceit and violence: that is, in plain terms, a mere brutal rapacity. Which although men object to one another as a reproach, by an inbred custom which they have of beholding their own actions in the persons of other men, wherein, as in a mirror, all things on the left side appear to be on the right, and all things on the right side to be as plainly on the left; yet the natural right of preservation, which we all receive from the uncontrolable dictates of necessity, will not admit it to be a vice, though it confess it to be an unhappiness. Now that with Cato himself, a person of so great a renown for wisdom, animosity should so prevail instead of judgment, and partiality instead of reason, that the very same thing which he thought just in his popular state, he should censure as unjust in a monarchical; other men perhaps may have leisure to admire. But I have been long since of this opinion; that there was never yet any more than vulgar prudence, that had the luck of being acceptable to the giddy people; but either it hath not been understood, or else having been so hath been levelled and cried down. The more eminent actions and apothegms, both of the Greeks and Romans, have been indebted for their eulogies not so much to the reason, as to the greatness of them; and very many times to that prosperous usurpation, (with which our histories do so mutually upbraid each other), which as a conquering torrent carries all before it, as well public agents as public actions, in the stream of time. Wisdom, properly so called, is nothing else but this: the perfect knowledge of the truth in all matters whatsoever. Which being derived from the registers and records of things; and that as it were through the conduit of certain definite appellations; cannot possibly be the work of a sudden acuteness, but of a well-balanced reason; which by the compendium of a word, we call philosophy. For by this it is that a way is opened to us, in which we travel from the contemplation of particular things to the inference or result of universal actions. Now look, how many sorts of things there are, which properly fall within the cognizance of human reason; into so many branches does the tree of philosophy divide itself. And from the diversity of the matter about which they are conversant, there hath been given to those branches a diversity of names too. For treating of figures, it is called geometry; of motion, physic; of natural right, morals; put altogether, and they make up philosophy. Just as the British, the Atlantic, and the Indian seas, being diversely christened from the diversity of their shores, do notwithstanding all together make up the ocean. And truly the geometricians have very admirably performed their part. For whatsoever assistance doth accrue to the life of man, whether from the observation of the heavens or from the description of the earth, from the notation of times, or from the remotest experiments of navigation; finally, whatsoever things they are in which this present age doth differ from the rude simpleness of antiquity, we must acknowledge to be a debt which we owe merely to geometry. If the moral philosophers had as happily discharged their duty, I know not what could have been added by human industry to the completion of that happiness, which is consistent with human life. For were the nature of human actions as distinctly known as the nature of quantity in geometrical figures, the strength of avarice and ambition, which is sustained by the erroneous opinions of the vulgar as touching the nature of right and wrong, would presently faint and languish; and mankind should enjoy such an immortal peace, that unless it were for habitation, on supposition that the earth should grow too narrow for her inhabitants, there would hardly be left any pretence for war. But now on the contrary, that neither the sword nor the pen should be allowed any cessation; that the knowledge of the law of nature should lose its growth, not advancing a whit beyond its ancient stature; that there should still be such siding with the several factions of philosophers, that the very same action should be decried by some, and as much elevated by others; that the very same man should at several times embrace his several opinions, and esteem his own actions far otherwise in himself than he does in others: these, I say, are so many signs, so many manifest arguments, that what hath hitherto been written by moral philosophers, hath not made any progress in the knowledge of the truth; but yet hath took with the world, not so much by giving any light to the understanding as entertainment to the affections, whilst by the successful rhetorications of their speech they have confirmed them in their rashly received opinions. So that this part of philosophy hath suffered the same destiny with the public ways, which lie open to all passengers to traverse up and down: or the same lot with highways and open streets, some for divertisement, and some for business; so that what with the impertinences of some and the altercations of others, those ways have never a seed time, and therefore yield never a harvest. The only reason of which unluckiness should seem to be this; that amongst all the writers of that part of philosophy there is not one that hath used an idoneous principle of tractation. For we may not, as in a circle, begin the handling of a science from what point we please. There is a certain clue of reason, whose beginning is in the dark; but by the benefit of whose conduct, we are led as it were by the hand into the clearest light. So that the principle of tractation is to be taken from that darkness; and then the light to be carried thither for irradiating the doubts. As often therefore as any writer doth either weakly forsake that clue, or wilfully cut it asunder; he describes the footsteps, not of his progress in science, but of his wanderings from it. And from this it was, that when I applied my thoughts to the investigation of natural justice, I was presently advertised from the very word justice, (which signifies a steady will of giving every one his own), that my first enquiry was to be, from whence it proceeded that any man should call anything rather his own, than another man’s. And when I found that this proceeded not from nature, but consent; (for what nature at first laid forth in common, men did afterwards distribute into several impropriations); I was conducted from thence to another inquiry; namely, to what end and upon what impulsives, when all was equally every man’s in common, men did rather think it fitting that every man should have his inclosure. And I found the reason was, that from a community of goods there must needs arise contention, whose enjoyment should be greatest. And from that contention all kind of calamities must unavoidably ensue, which by the instinct of nature every man is taught to shun. Having therefore thus arrived at two maxims of human nature; the one arising from the concupiscible part, which desires to appropriate to itself the use of those things in which all others have a joint interest; the other proceeding from the rational, which teaches every man to fly a contra-natural dissolution, as the greatest mischief that can arrive to nature: which principles being laid down, I seem from them to have demonstrated by a most evident connexion, in this little work of mine, first, the absolute necessity of leagues and contracts, and thence the rudiments both of moral and of civil prudence. That appendage which is added concerning the regiment of God, hath been done with this intent; that the dictates of God Almighty in the law of nature, might not seem repugnant to the written law, revealed to us in his word. I have also been very wary in the whole tenour of my discourse, not to meddle with the civil laws of any particular nation whatsoever: that is to say, I have avoided coming ashore, which those times have so infested both with shelves and tempests. At what expense of time and industry I have been in this scrutiny after truth, I am not ignorant; but to what purpose, I know not. For being partial judges of ourselves, we lay a partial estimate upon our own productions. I therefore offer up this book to your Lordship’s, not favour, but censure first; as having found by many experiments, that it is not the credit of the author, nor the newness of the work, nor yet the ornament of the style, but only the weight of reason, which recommends any opinion to your Lordship’s favour and approbation. If it fortune to please, that is to say, if it be sound, if it be useful, if it be not vulgar; I humbly offer it to your Lordship, as both my glory and my protection. But if in anything I have erred, your Lordship will yet accept it as a testimony of my gratitude; that the means of study, which I enjoyed by your Lordship’s goodness, I have employed to the procurement of your Lordship’s favour. The God of heaven crown your Lordship with length of days, in this earthly station; and in the heavenly Jerusalem with a crown of glory.
Your Honour’s most humble,
and most devoted Servant,
Thomas Hobbes.
Musean translation
Mouseia’s complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from Hobbes’s own 1651 English version of De Cive, complete (epistle, preface, eighteen chapters with annotations; Molesworth’s 1841 text) for fidelity, the author’s force and cadence, and modern clarity. Molesworth’s index is omitted.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
WILLIAM, EARL OF DEVONSHIRE,
MY MOST HONORED LORD.
May it please Your Lordship,
The Roman people, for whom the name of king had become hateful through both the tyranny of the Tarquins and the character and decrees of their city, had a saying. It was a public saying, though spoken by a private citizen—if Cato the Censor can be called no more than that—that all kings should be counted among ravenous beasts. But what a beast of prey the Roman people themselves were! With their conquering eagles they raised proud trophies across the world, bringing Africans, Asians, Macedonians, Achaeans, and many other plundered nations into a glittering servitude under the pretense of granting them Roman citizenship. If Cato's saying was wise, then no less wise was that of Pontius Telesinus. Running open-mouthed through the ranks of his army in his famous battle with Sulla, he cried that Rome herself, as well as Sulla, must be razed: there would always be wolves preying on their liberty until the forest that sheltered them was torn up by its roots. To speak impartially, both sayings are true: man is a kind of god to man, and man is an outright wolf to man. The first is true when we compare fellow citizens; the second, when we compare commonwealths. In the first relation we find some likeness to divinity: justice and charity, the twin sisters of peace. In the second, good people must seek refuge in the two daughters of war, deceit and violence, to defend themselves—in plain terms, mere beastly rapacity. People accuse one another of this as a vice, from an ingrained habit of viewing their own deeds in other people's persons, as in a mirror where everything on the left appears on the right and everything on the right appears on the left. Yet the natural right of self-preservation, which we all derive from necessity's irresistible dictates, does not allow us to call it a vice, though it acknowledges it as a misfortune. Perhaps others have time to marvel that in Cato himself, a man so renowned for wisdom, passion should prevail over judgment and partiality over reason: he condemned in a monarchy precisely what he thought just in his popular state. But I have long held that no prudence beyond the ordinary has ever had the good fortune to please the fickle populace. Either they have failed to understand it, or, understanding it, have brought it down with their cries. The most celebrated deeds and sayings of Greeks and Romans owe their praise less to reason than to their greatness, and very often to the successful usurpation with which our histories reproach one another. Like a conquering torrent, it carries everything along in the current of time, public figures and public deeds alike. Wisdom, properly speaking, is nothing but the perfect knowledge of truth in all matters whatsoever. It is drawn from the records and testimony of things through the channel, as it were, of precisely defined names. It cannot, therefore, be the work of sudden cleverness, but of well-balanced reason—in a word, philosophy. Philosophy opens a way by which we travel from examining particular things to drawing conclusions about universal operations. There are as many branches of the tree of philosophy as there are kinds of things properly within the reach of human reason, and those branches have different names according to the different subjects with which they deal. Concerned with figures, it is called geometry; with motion, physics; with natural right, morals. Together they make philosophy, just as the British, Atlantic, and Indian seas, differently named for their different shores, together make the ocean. The geometers, indeed, have performed their part admirably. Whatever benefits human life has gained from observing the heavens, describing the earth, recording time, or undertaking the farthest experiments in navigation—in short, everything by which our age differs from the rough simplicity of antiquity—we must acknowledge as a debt owed entirely to geometry. If moral philosophers had discharged their duty as successfully, I do not know what human effort could have added to the happiness possible in human life. For if the nature of human actions were known as distinctly as the nature of quantities in geometric figures, avarice and ambition, which draw strength from the populace's mistaken opinions of right and wrong, would quickly weaken and fade. Humankind would enjoy an enduring peace, and scarcely any pretext for war would remain, except perhaps the need for more room to live if the earth grew too small for its inhabitants. Instead, neither sword nor pen is ever at rest. Knowledge of the law of nature has ceased to grow, remaining no greater than it was in antiquity. People still take sides among rival schools of philosophers: one party denounces the very action another exalts. The same person adopts different opinions at different times and judges his own actions by a standard quite unlike the one he applies to others. All these are unmistakable signs that what moral philosophers have written thus far has made no progress toward knowledge of truth. Yet it has won favor in the world, not by enlightening the understanding but by entertaining the passions, confirming hastily accepted opinions with the successful rhetoric of its discourse. This part of philosophy has thus met the fate of public thoroughfares, open for all travelers to cross and recross, or of highways and streets used by some for amusement and others for business: between the idle talk of some and the quarrels of others, these roads never have a season for sowing and so never yield a harvest. The reason for this failure appears to be that none of the writers on this branch of philosophy has adopted a suitable first principle. We cannot begin the treatment of a science wherever we please, as though it were a circle. Reason has a certain guiding thread whose beginning lies in darkness, but by following it we are led, as if by the hand, into the clearest light. We must therefore take our first principle from that darkness and carry light back there to illuminate our doubts. Whenever a writer carelessly abandons that thread or deliberately cuts it, he traces the steps not of his advance in knowledge, but of his wandering away from it. So when I turned my mind to the investigation of natural justice, the very word justice—which signifies a steady will to give each person his own—at once directed me to ask how anyone came to call a thing his own rather than another's. Finding that this came not from nature but from consent—for what nature first set out in common, people afterward divided into separate possessions—I was led to ask another question: why, and under what impulse, when everything belonged equally to everyone, did they decide that each should have his own enclosure? I found the reason to be that common ownership must give rise to contention over who shall enjoy the most. From such contention every kind of calamity must inevitably follow, and nature teaches everyone to avoid it. Thus I arrived at two principles of human nature: one arising from the desiring faculty, which seeks to appropriate the use of things in which everyone else shares an interest; the other arising from reason, which teaches each person to escape an unnatural destruction as the greatest evil that can befall nature. With these principles established, I believe I have demonstrated in this little work, by a most evident chain of reasoning, first the absolute necessity of alliances and contracts, and from them the rudiments of both moral and civil prudence. The appended discussion of the government of God is intended to show that the dictates of Almighty God in the law of nature do not conflict with the written law revealed to us in his word. Throughout my discourse I have also been careful not to interfere with the civil laws of any particular nation: I have avoided coming ashore, since in these times the coast is so beset by shoals and storms. I know what time and labor this search for truth has cost me; I do not know to what purpose. Partial judges of ourselves, we set a partial value upon our own work. Therefore I submit this book to Your Lordship first not for favor but for judgment. I have learned from much experience that it is neither an author's reputation, nor a work's novelty, nor the ornament of its style, but only the weight of its reasoning that commends an opinion to Your Lordship's favor and approval. If it finds favor—that is, if it is sound, useful, and more than commonplace—I humbly offer it to Your Lordship as both my glory and my protection. But if I have erred in anything, Your Lordship will still accept it as a token of my gratitude: the opportunity for study I enjoyed through your kindness I have employed in seeking your favor. May the God of heaven crown Your Lordship with long life in this earthly station, and with a crown of glory in the heavenly Jerusalem.
Your Honor's most humble,
and most devoted servant,
Thomas Hobbes.
Plain English translation
Mouseia’s complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from Hobbes’s own 1651 English version of De Cive, complete (epistle, preface, eighteen chapters with annotations; Molesworth’s 1841 text). Molesworth’s index is omitted.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE
WILLIAM EARL OF DEVONSHIRE,
MY MOST HONORED LORD.
May it please your Lordship,
The Roman people hated the title of king. The tyranny of the Tarquins and the character and laws of Rome had made it hateful. So the people said, though the words came from one man’s mouth—if Cato the censor can even be called a private man—that every king should be counted among the beasts of prey. But what a beast of prey the Roman people were! Their conquering eagles carried their proud trophies far across the world. They brought Africans, Asians, Macedonians, Achaeans, and many other plundered peoples into a bondage that looked attractive because they claimed to grant them Roman citizenship. If Cato’s saying was wise, then the saying of Pontius Telesinus was just as wise. During his famous battle with Sylla, he ran among the ranks of his army shouting that they must destroy Rome along with Sylla. Otherwise, he said, wolves would always prey on their liberty unless the forest sheltering them was uprooted. To be fair, both sayings are true: a man is a kind of God to another man, and a man is a savage wolf to another man. The first holds when we compare citizens with each other; the second, when we compare cities. Citizens can resemble God in justice and charity, the twin sisters of peace. But in dealings between cities, good people must seek protection in the two daughters of war, deceit and violence. To put it plainly, they must resort to the appetite of beasts of prey. People accuse each other of this behavior because they habitually see their own actions in others as if in a mirror: left looks right and right looks left. Yet the natural right of self-preservation comes from the irresistible demands of necessity. It admits that this condition is unfortunate, but it cannot call it a vice. Cato was famous for wisdom. Still, anger could take the place of judgment in him, and prejudice could take the place of reason. He called an act just when done by his popular government but unjust when done by a monarchy. Others may have time to wonder at that. I have long believed that only ordinary prudence has ever had the luck to please the fickle people. More exceptional wisdom is either not understood or, when understood, attacked and shouted down. The most celebrated deeds and sayings of the Greeks and Romans owe their praise less to reason than to their sheer scale. Very often they owe it to successful usurpation, which our histories accuse one another of. Like a victorious flood, it sweeps public figures and public actions alike down the current of time. Wisdom in the proper sense is complete knowledge of the truth about every subject. Such knowledge comes from records of things, conveyed through words with definite meanings. It cannot be produced by a sudden flash of cleverness. It requires sound reason, which we call philosophy for short. Philosophy opens a path from examining particular things to drawing conclusions about general actions. Philosophy has as many branches as there are kinds of things that human reason can properly study. The branches have different names because their subjects differ. The study of figures is geometry; the study of motion is physics; the study of natural right is morals. Together these make up philosophy, just as the British, Atlantic, and Indian seas have different names from their shores but together make up the ocean. Geometers have done their part remarkably well. Consider all that helps human life: observing the heavens, describing the earth, recording time, and making voyages to the farthest places. In short, everything that distinguishes our age from the crude simplicity of ancient times is a debt we owe to geometry. If moral philosophers had done as well, I cannot imagine what human effort could add to the happiness possible in this life. Suppose we knew the nature of human actions as clearly as we know the quantities in geometrical figures. Greed and ambition draw their strength from the public’s mistaken beliefs about right and wrong. They would soon weaken. Humanity would enjoy lasting peace. There would hardly be a reason for war, unless the earth became too small to house its people. Instead, neither sword nor pen gets any rest. Our knowledge of the law of nature has not grown beyond its ancient size. Philosophers still take sides in factions, praising the very action that others condemn. A person holds different views at different times and judges the same conduct differently in himself and others. All these are clear signs that moral philosophers have so far made no progress toward truth. Their writings have caught the public’s attention by appealing to its feelings, not by enlightening its understanding. Skillful speeches merely confirm opinions adopted in haste. This part of philosophy has suffered the fate of public roads. Anyone may travel them, for amusement or for business. Between the idle distractions of some travelers and the quarrels of others, the roads never have a planting season and so never yield a harvest. The likely reason for this failure is that none of the writers in this field has begun from a suitable principle. We cannot begin a science at any point we choose, as if tracing a circle. Reason provides a thread that starts in darkness but leads us by the hand into clear light. An inquiry must start in that darkness, then carry the light back to clear up its doubts. Whenever a writer carelessly abandons the thread or deliberately cuts it, he traces the steps of his departure from knowledge, not his advance toward it. When I began to investigate natural justice, the word justice itself told me where to start. It means a steady willingness to give everyone what belongs to them. So my first question was why anyone calls a thing his rather than someone else’s. I found that ownership comes not from nature but from agreement. Nature originally made things common to all; afterward people divided them into separate properties. That led me to ask why, when everything belonged equally to everyone, people thought it better for each to have his own enclosed property. I found the reason: common ownership must produce disputes about who gets the most use from things. Every kind of disaster follows those disputes, and nature teaches everyone to avoid such disasters. I thus reached two principles of human nature. One comes from appetite and seeks exclusive use of things in which everyone else has a share. The other comes from reason and teaches each person to avoid an unnatural destruction of himself as nature’s greatest harm. With those principles established, I believe I have shown in this short work, through a clear chain of reasoning, first the absolute need for alliances and contracts, and then the foundations of both moral and civil prudence. I added the section on God’s government so that the commands of Almighty God in the law of nature would not appear to conflict with the written law revealed in his word. Throughout, I have carefully avoided the civil laws of any particular nation. In other words, I have avoided a shore made dangerous in these times by both reefs and storms. I know how much time and effort I have spent searching for truth. I do not know what success I have had. We are biased judges of our own work and value it accordingly. I therefore offer this book to your Lordship first for your judgment, not your favor. Experience has shown me that neither an author’s reputation, nor a work’s novelty, nor an elegant style wins your approval. Only the strength of its reasoning does. If the book pleases you—that is, if it is sound, useful, and not commonplace—I humbly offer it to you as both my honor and my protection. But if I have made a mistake anywhere, please accept the book as a sign of my gratitude. Through your kindness I had the means to study, and I have used them to seek your favor. May the God of heaven grant your Lordship a long life on earth and a crown of glory in the heavenly Jerusalem.
Your Honor’s most humble,
and most devoted servant,
Thomas Hobbes.