IF the whole is to be set in order, and the commonwealth put into the
best possible shape, there are various relations to be considered.
First, there is the action of the complete body upon itself, the
relation of the whole to the whole, of the Sovereign to the State; and
this relation, as we shall see, is made up of the relations of the
intermediate terms.
The laws which regulate this relation bear the name of political laws,
and are also called fundamental laws, not without reason if they are
wise. For, if there is, in each State, only one good system, the people
that is in possession of it should hold fast to this; but if the
established order is bad, why should laws that prevent men from being
good be regarded as fundamental? Besides, in any case, a people is
always in a position to change its laws, however good; for, if it choose
to do itself harm, who can have a right to stop it?
The second relation is that of the members one to another, or to the
body as a whole; and this relation should be in the first respect as
unimportant, and in the second as important, as possible. Each citizen
would then be perfectly independent of all the rest, and at the same
time very dependent on the city; which is brought about always by the
same means, as the strength of the State can alone secure the liberty of
its members. From this second relation arise civil laws.
We may consider also a third kind of relation between the individual and
the law, a relation of disobedience to its penalty. This gives rise to
the setting up of criminal laws, which, at bottom, are less a particular
class of law than the sanction behind all the rest.
Along with these three kinds of law goes a fourth, most important of
all, which is not graven on tablets of marble or brass, but on the
hearts of the citizens. This forms the real constitution of the State,
takes on every day new powers, when other laws decay or die out,
restores them or takes their place, keeps a people in the ways in which
it was meant to go, and insensibly replaces authority by the force of
habit. I am speaking of morality, of custom, above all of public
opinion; a power unknown to political thinkers, on which none the less
success in everything else depends. With this the great legislator
concerns himself in secret, though he seems to confine himself to
particular regulations; for these are only the arc of the arch, while
manners and morals, slower to arise, form in the end its immovable
keystone.
Among the different classes of laws, the political, which determine the
forms of the government, are alone relevant to my subject.