AS, before putting up a large building, the architect surveys and sounds
the site to see if it will bear the weight, the wise legislator does not
begin by laying down laws good in themselves, but by investigating the
fitness of the people, for which they are destined, to receive them.
Plato refused to legislate for the Arcadians and the Cyrenĉans, because
he knew that both peoples were rich and could not put up with equality;
and good laws and bad men were found together in Crete, because Minos
had inflicted discipline on a people already burdened with vice.
A thousand nations have achieved earthly greatness, that could never
have endured good laws; even such as could have endured them could have
done so only for a very brief period of their long history. Most
peoples, like most men, are docile only in youth; as they grow old they
become incorrigible. When once customs have become established and
prejudices inveterate, it is dangerous and useless to attempt their
reformation; the people, like the foolish and cowardly patients who rave
at sight of the doctor, can no longer bear that any one should lay hands
on its faults to remedy them.
There are indeed times in the history of States when, just as some kinds
of illness turn men's heads and make them forget the past, periods of
violence and revolutions do to peoples what these crises do to
individuals: horror of the past takes the place of forgetfulness, and
the State, set on fire by civil wars, is born again, so to speak, from
its ashes, and takes on anew, fresh from the jaws of death, the vigour
of youth. Such were Sparta at the time of Lycurgus, Rome after the
Tarquins, and, in modern times, Holland and Switzerland after the
expulsion of the tyrants.
But such events are rare; they are exceptions, the cause of which is
always to be found in the particular constitution of the State
concerned. They cannot even happen twice to the same people, for it can
make itself free as long as it remains barbarous, but not when the civic
impulse has lost its vigour. Then disturbances may destroy it, but
revolutions cannot mend it: it needs a master, and not a liberator. Free
peoples, be mindful of this maxim: "Liberty may be gained, but can never
be recovered."
Youth is not infancy. There is for nations, as for men, a period of
youth, or, shall we say, maturity, before which they should not be made
subject to laws; but the maturity of a people is not always easily
recognisable, and, if it is anticipated, the work is spoilt. One people
is amenable to discipline from the beginning; another, not after ten
centuries. Russia will never be really civilised, because it was
civilised too soon. Peter had a genius for imitation; but he lacked true
genius, which is creative and makes all from nothing. He did some good
things, but most of what he did was out of place. He saw that his people
was barbarous, but did not see that it was not ripe for civilisation: he
wanted to civilise it when it needed only hardening. His first wish was
to make Germans or Englishmen, when he ought to have been making
Russians; and he prevented his subjects from ever becoming what they
might have been by persuading them that they were what they are not. In
this fashion too a French teacher turns out his pupil to be an infant
prodigy, and for the rest of his life to be nothing whatsoever. The
empire of Russia will aspire to conquer Europe, and will itself be
conquered. The Tartars, its subjects or neighbours, will become its
masters and ours, by a revolution which I regard as inevitable. Indeed,
all the kings of Europe are working in concert to hasten its coming.