Book V, Chapter I, 16

The second remedy is frequent and cheerful public entertainment. If the state encouraged everyone who, in pursuit of their own interest and without scandal or indecency, tried to amuse and entertain the people with painting, poetry, music, dancing, and all sorts of dramatic performances and exhibitions—that is, if it gave them complete freedom—it could easily dispel, among most people, the melancholy and gloomy disposition that almost always nurtures popular superstition and fanaticism. Public entertainments have always been dreaded and hated by fanatical promoters of these popular frenzies. The gaiety and good humor they inspire are wholly incompatible with the state of mind best suited to the promoters' purposes and most susceptible to their influence. Dramatic performances, moreover, often expose their devices to public ridicule, sometimes even to public condemnation; for that reason they are more particularly abhorred than any other entertainment.

Where the law favors no religion's teachers over another's, none of them would need to depend particularly or directly on the sovereign or executive power, and the sovereign would have no need to take part in appointing or dismissing them. He would need concern himself with them only to keep the peace among them, as among his other subjects: to prevent them from persecuting, abusing, or oppressing one another. Matters are quite different, however, in countries with an established or governing religion. There the sovereign can never be secure unless he has the means to influence a considerable portion of that religion's teachers.

The clergy of every established church form a great corporation. They can act in concert and pursue their interests according to a single plan and in a single spirit, just as if directed by one man; and often they are so directed. Their interests as a corporate body are never identical to the sovereign's, and are sometimes directly opposed to them. Their chief interest is to preserve their authority over the people. That authority depends on the supposed certainty and importance of the whole doctrine they teach, and on the supposed need to accept every part of it with unquestioning faith to escape eternal misery. If the sovereign is imprudent enough to appear to mock or doubt even the smallest part of their doctrine, or if out of humanity he tries to protect those who mock or doubt it, the punctilious honor of clergy in no way dependent on him is immediately offended. They denounce him as irreligious and employ all the terrors of religion to compel the people to transfer their allegiance to a more orthodox and obedient prince. If he opposes any of their claims or usurpations, the danger is equally great. Princes who have dared thus to rebel against the church have generally been charged not only with the crime of rebellion but with the further crime of heresy, despite solemn declarations of faith and humble submission to every tenet the church thought fit to prescribe to them. But religious authority is superior to all other authority: the fears it inspires overcome all other fears. When authorized teachers of religion spread doctrines that undermine the sovereign's authority among the population, he can maintain it only by violence or by a standing army. Even a standing army cannot give him lasting security in this case, since its soldiers, unless they are foreigners—which they seldom can be—must be drawn from the people, as they almost always are, and are therefore likely soon to be swayed by those very doctrines. The revolutions continually brought about by the turbulence of the Greek clergy at Constantinople while the eastern empire endured, and the upheavals continually brought about by the turbulence of the Roman clergy throughout Europe over several centuries, clearly show how precarious and insecure the sovereign must always be if he lacks adequate means of influencing the clergy of his country's established and governing religion.

Articles of faith and other spiritual matters plainly do not belong to the proper sphere of a temporal sovereign, who, though he may be well qualified to protect the people, is seldom thought qualified to instruct them. In such matters his authority can therefore seldom counterbalance the united authority of the established church's clergy. Yet the public peace and his own security may often depend on the doctrines they choose to spread about these matters. Since he can seldom oppose their decisions directly with sufficient weight and authority, he must be able to influence them; and he can do so only by arousing fears and expectations among most individual members of the clergy. Those fears may concern loss of office or other punishment, and those expectations may concern further advancement.

In all Christian churches, clerical benefices are a kind of freehold, enjoyed not at someone's pleasure but for life or during good behavior. If the clergy held them on a less secure tenure and could be removed for every small offense to the sovereign or his ministers, they might be unable to retain their authority over the people, who would see them as paid dependents of the court and could no longer trust the sincerity of their teachings. Yet if the sovereign attempted irregularly and violently to deprive a number of clergymen of their freeholds, perhaps for having spread some divisive or seditious doctrine with unusual zeal, such persecution would make both them and their doctrine ten times more popular, and therefore ten times more troublesome and dangerous, than before. Fear is a poor instrument of government in almost every case and should never, in particular, be used against a class of people with the slightest claim to independence. Trying to frighten them only inflames their resentment and hardens their opposition, which gentler treatment might easily persuade them to soften or abandon altogether. The French government's customary use of force to compel all its parliaments, or sovereign courts of justice, to register unpopular edicts very seldom succeeded. Imprisoning every resistant member, its usual method, might have been thought forceful enough. The princes of the house of Stuart sometimes used similar means to influence members of the parliament of England, and generally found them just as intractable. The parliament of England is now managed differently; and a very small experiment carried out by the duke of Choiseul on the parliament of Paris about twelve years ago showed clearly that all the parliaments of France could have been managed even more easily in the same way. The experiment was not continued. For although management and persuasion are always the easiest and safest instruments of government, while force and violence are the worst and most dangerous, human arrogance seems such that people almost always disdain the better instrument unless they cannot or dare not use the worse. The French government could and dared use force, and so disdained management and persuasion. Yet the experience of every age shows, I believe, that there is no class of people against whom the use of force and violence is so dangerous—or, rather, so utterly ruinous—as the respected clergy of an established church. Even in the most despotic governments, the rights, privileges, and personal liberty of an individual cleric in good standing with his order are respected more than those of any other person of approximately equal rank and wealth. This holds at every degree of despotism, from the gentle and mild government of Paris to the violent and furious government of Constantinople. But though this class can scarcely ever be forced, it can be managed as easily as any other. The sovereign's security and the public peace seem to depend greatly on his means of managing it, and those means seem to consist entirely in the advancement he can bestow on its members.

Under the ancient constitution of the Christian church, the bishop of each diocese was elected by the clergy and the people of the episcopal city voting together. The people did not keep their voting rights long; and while they had them they almost always followed the clergy, who appeared to be their natural guides in spiritual matters. The clergy soon tired of the trouble of managing the people and found it easier to elect their bishops themselves. Likewise, the monks of a monastery elected their abbot, at least in most abbeys. The bishop appointed clergy to all the lower ecclesiastical benefices within his diocese, bestowing them on whomever he chose. Thus every church appointment lay at the church's disposal. The sovereign might have some indirect influence on these elections, and sometimes it was customary to seek both his consent to hold an election and his approval of its outcome; but he had no direct or adequate means of managing the clergy. Each clergyman's ambition naturally led him to court not so much his sovereign as his own order, from which alone he could expect advancement.

Throughout most of Europe, the pope gradually appropriated the appointment first of almost all bishops and abbots, or holders of what were called consistorial benefices, and then, through various schemes and pretexts, of most of the lower benefices within each diocese. Little more was left to the bishop than was strictly needed to give him a respectable authority over his own clergy. This arrangement left the sovereign in an even worse position than before. The clergy of the various countries of Europe were thereby formed into a kind of spiritual army, dispersed among different regions but with every movement and operation now directed by one commander and conducted according to one unified plan. The clergy of each country could be regarded as a detachment of that army, whose operations could readily be supported and reinforced by the other detachments stationed in surrounding countries. Each detachment was not only independent of the sovereign of the country where it was stationed and by which it was maintained, but dependent on a foreign sovereign. He could at any time turn its weapons against that country's sovereign and support them with those of every other detachment.

Those weapons were as formidable as can be imagined. In ancient Europe, before arts and manufactures were established, the clergy's wealth gave them the same kind of influence over ordinary people as the great barons' wealth gave those barons over their vassals, tenants, and retainers. On the great estates bestowed upon the church through the misguided piety of princes and private individuals, jurisdictions were established of the same kind, and for the same reason, as those on the great barons' estates. On those lands, the clergy or their bailiffs could readily keep the peace without the support or assistance of the king or anyone else; neither the king nor anyone else could keep the peace there without the clergy's support and assistance. Thus the clergy's jurisdiction in their own baronies or manors was as independent of the king's courts, and as exclusive of their authority, as the jurisdiction of the great secular lords. Like the great barons' tenants, nearly all the clergy's tenants held their land at their lord's pleasure and depended entirely on their immediate lords. They could therefore be called out whenever the clergy wished to fight in any quarrel the clergy chose to pursue. Besides the rents from these estates, the clergy possessed through tithes a very large share of the rents from all the other estates in every European kingdom. Most of the revenue from both sorts of rent was paid in kind—in grain, wine, cattle, poultry, etc. The amount far exceeded what the clergy could consume themselves; nor were there arts or manufactures whose products they could obtain in exchange for the surplus. They could make use of this immense surplus only by spending it, as the great barons spent a similar surplus of revenue, on the most lavish hospitality and the widest charity. Both the hospitality and the charity of the ancient clergy are accordingly said to have been very great. They supported not only almost all the poor in every kingdom: many knights and gentlemen often had no other means of subsistence than traveling from monastery to monastery, ostensibly out of devotion but in reality to enjoy the clergy's hospitality. The retainers of particular prelates were often as numerous as those of the greatest secular lords; and the retainers of all the clergy together were perhaps more numerous than those of all the secular lords. There was always much greater unity among the clergy than among the secular lords. The former were bound by a regular discipline and hierarchy under papal authority. The latter were bound by no regular discipline or hierarchy, but were almost always as jealous of each other as they were of the king. Thus even if the clergy's tenants and retainers together had been less numerous than those of the great secular lords—and their tenants probably were much less numerous—their unity would have made them more formidable. Moreover, the clergy's hospitality and charity not only gave them command of a great worldly force but vastly increased the power of their spiritual weapons. These virtues won them the highest respect and veneration among the lower ranks, many of whom were constantly, and almost all occasionally, fed by them. Everything belonging or connected to so popular an order—its property, its privileges, its doctrines—necessarily seemed sacred to ordinary people; any violation of these, real or alleged, seemed the greatest act of sacrilege and impiety. If in these circumstances the sovereign often found it hard to resist an alliance of a few great nobles, it is no wonder that he found it even harder to resist the united force of his own clergy, supported by the clergy of all neighboring dominions. The wonder is not that he was sometimes obliged to yield, but that he was ever able to resist.

The second remedy is frequent, cheerful public entertainment. The state could encourage those who have an interest in entertaining people through painting, poetry, music, dancing, and all kinds of plays and performances. It need only give them complete freedom to do so, provided their entertainment causes no scandal or indecency. This would easily drive away, among most people, the gloomy mood that almost always feeds popular superstition and religious fervor. Fanatical promoters of those popular frenzies have always feared and hated public entertainment. Its cheerfulness and good humor clash completely with the state of mind they need and can most easily exploit. Plays in particular often expose their methods to public ridicule and sometimes even public outrage. For this reason, fanatics hate plays more than any other entertainment.

Where the law favors no religion's teachers over those of another, none would need to depend directly or particularly on the sovereign or executive government. Nor would the sovereign need any role in appointing or removing them. He would have no need to concern himself with them except to keep peace among them, just as among his other subjects, and to stop them from persecuting, abusing, or oppressing one another. Things are quite different where a religion is established or dominant. There the sovereign cannot be secure unless he can exert considerable influence over most of that religion's teachers.

The clergy of every established church form a large organized body. They can work together for their interests with one plan and one purpose, as though one man directed them; indeed, one man often does. Their interests as a body never match the sovereign's interests and sometimes directly oppose them. Above all, they want to keep their authority over the people. That authority rests on the belief that every part of their teaching is certain and important, and that people must believe all of it without question to escape eternal misery. If the sovereign unwisely seems to mock or doubt even the smallest part of their teaching, or tries out of kindness to protect others who do, clergy independent of him will take offense on a point of honor. They will denounce him as irreligious and use every religious threat to persuade people to give their loyalty to a more orthodox and compliant prince. Opposing any of their claims or attempts to seize power is equally dangerous. Princes who have dared to challenge the church in this way have usually been accused not only of rebellion against it but also of heresy. This happens despite their solemn declarations of faith and humble acceptance of every belief the church requires of them. Religious authority is stronger than every other kind, and the fears it arouses overcome all others. If the authorized teachers of religion spread ideas among the people that undermine the sovereign's authority, he can maintain it only by force or with a standing army. Even a standing army cannot keep him safe for long. Unless its soldiers are foreigners, which can seldom happen, they must be drawn from the people, as they almost always are, and will likely soon be influenced by the same ideas. The Greek clergy's unrest repeatedly caused revolutions at Constantinople for as long as the eastern empire lasted. For several centuries, the Roman clergy's unrest repeatedly caused upheavals across Europe. These examples clearly show how insecure a sovereign must be if he cannot adequately influence the clergy of his country's established and dominant religion.

Questions of faith and other spiritual matters plainly do not belong to the proper work of a secular sovereign. He may be well qualified to protect the people, but is rarely thought qualified to instruct them in religion. His authority on such matters can therefore rarely balance the combined authority of the established church's clergy. Yet the doctrines they choose to spread can often affect public peace and his own security. Because he rarely has enough authority to oppose their decisions directly, he must be able to influence them. He can do that only through the fears and hopes he can raise among most individual clergy. They may fear losing their positions or facing other punishment, or hope for further promotion.

In every Christian church, clergy hold their paid positions much like property. They keep them for life or as long as they behave well, not merely while someone in power is pleased with them. If the positions were less secure, and the sovereign or his ministers could dismiss clergy for every slight offense, the clergy might be unable to keep their authority over the people. People would view them as paid servants of the court and could no longer trust the sincerity of their teaching. But if the sovereign tried to use unlawful force to strip a number of clergy of their positions—perhaps because they had spread divisive or rebellious ideas with unusual energy—persecution would make both the clergy and their ideas ten times more popular, and therefore ten times more troublesome and dangerous. Fear is a poor tool of government in almost every case. In particular, it should never be used against a group with the slightest claim to independence. Trying to frighten them only makes them angrier and strengthens an opposition that gentler treatment might have softened or ended. The French government usually tried force to make all its parliaments, or highest courts of justice, register unpopular decrees. This seldom worked, though imprisoning all the members who resisted might seem forceful enough. The princes of the house of Stuart sometimes used similar methods to influence members of the parliament of England. They generally found them just as resistant. The parliament of England is now handled differently. A small experiment the duke of Choiseul carried out on the parliament of Paris about twelve years ago showed clearly that the parliaments of France could have been handled still more easily in the same way. The experiment went no further. Persuasion and skillful management are always the easiest and safest ways to govern, while force and violence are the worst and most dangerous. Yet people are naturally so arrogant that they usually scorn the better method unless they cannot or dare not use the worse one. The French government could and dared to use force, so it refused to use persuasion and skillful management. But the experience of every age seems to show that force and violence are especially dangerous, even ruinous, when used against the respected clergy of an established church. Even under the most absolute governments, a church official who is on good terms with his fellow clergy has rights, privileges, and personal freedom more secure than those of anyone else with nearly equal rank and wealth. This is true at every level of absolute rule, from the mild government of Paris to the harsh government of Constantinople. Although clergy can hardly ever be forced, they can be influenced as easily as anyone else. The sovereign's security and public peace seem to depend greatly on his ability to influence them, and that ability seems to rest entirely on the promotions he can offer them.

Under the early organization of the Christian church, the bishop of each diocese was elected by the combined votes of the clergy and people of the city where he would serve. The people did not keep this voting right long. While they had it, they almost always followed the clergy's lead, seeing them as natural guides on spiritual matters. The clergy soon tired of the work of influencing the people and found it easier to elect bishops themselves. Similarly, the monastery's monks elected the abbot, at least in most abbeys. The bishop filled all lower paid church positions in his diocese, giving them to clergy of his choosing. In this way the church controlled every church promotion. The sovereign might indirectly influence the elections, and people sometimes asked both his permission to hold one and his approval of the result. Still, he had no direct or adequate way to influence the clergy. Each clergyman's ambition naturally led him to seek favor with other clergy, the only people who could promote him, rather than with the sovereign.

Across most of Europe, the pope gradually took control first of appointments to nearly all bishoprics and abbeys, known as consistorial benefices. Later, through various maneuvers and pretexts, he took control of most of the lower paid positions within each diocese. Bishops kept little more than the appointments strictly necessary to give them a respectable degree of authority over their own clergy. This arrangement left the sovereign in an even worse position. The clergy of Europe's different countries now formed a kind of religious army, spread out in different places but directed by one leader according to one plan. Each country's clergy could be seen as one unit of that army, whose actions could easily be supported by the other units in nearby countries. Each unit was not only independent of the sovereign of the country that housed and supported it. It answered to a foreign sovereign who could at any time turn it against that country's sovereign and back it with all the other units.

The weapons of this army were immensely powerful. In old Europe, before arts and manufactures developed, the clergy's wealth gave them the same kind of influence over ordinary people that great barons' wealth gave them over their dependents, tenants, and followers. The church held large landed estates given by princes and private people out of misguided piety. Courts and governing powers were set up on these lands for the same reasons as on the great barons' lands. On their large estates the clergy or their agents could easily keep the peace without help from the king or anyone else. Neither the king nor anyone else could keep peace there without the clergy's help. So on the clergy's estates and manors, their courts were as independent of the king's courts, and as completely excluded the king's authority, as the courts of great secular lords. Like the great barons' tenants, nearly all the clergy's tenants held their land at their lords' will. They depended completely on their immediate lords and could therefore be called up whenever the clergy wanted them to fight. Beyond rent from their own estates, the clergy received through tithes a very large share of rent from all the other estates in every European kingdom. Most of both forms of revenue came as goods—grain, wine, cattle, poultry, etc. There was far more than the clergy could consume themselves, and there were no arts or manufactured goods they could exchange the surplus for. They could benefit from this huge surplus only by using it as the great barons used theirs: to offer lavish hospitality and extensive charity. The clergy of old are accordingly said to have been very hospitable and charitable. They supported nearly all the poor in every kingdom. Many knights and gentlemen also had no other way to live than by traveling from monastery to monastery. They claimed to be traveling out of religious devotion, but really went to enjoy the clergy's hospitality. Some individual senior clergy had as many followers as the greatest secular lords. Taken together, all the clergy may have had more followers than all the secular lords combined. The clergy were also far more united than the secular lords. They followed an organized chain of command under the pope. The secular lords had no such organization and were nearly always as suspicious of one another as they were of the king. Even if the clergy had fewer tenants and followers combined than the great secular lords—and they probably had far fewer tenants—their unity would have made them more powerful. Their hospitality and charity did more than put a large worldly force at their command: they made their spiritual weapons much stronger too. These good deeds earned them the deepest respect of the lower ranks, many of whom they fed regularly and nearly all of whom they fed at times. Ordinary people therefore saw everything connected to such a popular group—its property, privileges, and teachings—as sacred. Any real or supposed violation seemed an extreme act of irreligious wickedness. If the sovereign often struggled against an alliance of just a few great nobles in these conditions, it is no surprise that he struggled even more against his own country's united clergy backed by the clergy of every neighboring country. The wonder is not that he sometimes had to give in, but that he ever managed to resist.