AS the law is the declaration of the general will, the censorship is the
declaration of the public judgment: public opinion is the form of law
which the censor administers, and, like the prince, only applies to
particular cases.
The censorial tribunal, so far from being the arbiter of the people's
opinion, only declares it, and, as soon as the two part company, its
decisions are null and void.
It is useless to distinguish the morality of a nation from the objects
of its esteem; both depend on the same principle and are necessarily
indistinguishable. There is no people on earth the choice of whose
pleasures is not decided by opinion rather than nature. Right men's
opinions, and their morality will purge itself. Men always love what is
good or what they find good; it is in judging what is good that they go
wrong. This judgment, therefore, is what must be regulated. He who
judges of morality judges of honour; and he who judges of honour finds
his law in opinion.
The opinions of a people are derived from its constitution; although the
law does not regulate morality, it is legislation that gives it birth.
When legislation grows weak, morality degenerates; but in such cases the
judgment of the censors will not do what the force of the laws has
failed to effect.
From this it follows that the censorship may be useful for the
preservation of morality, but can never be so for its restoration. Set
up censors while the laws are vigorous; as soon as they have lost their
vigour, all hope is gone; no legitimate power can retain force when the
laws have lost it.
The censorship upholds morality by preventing opinion from growing
corrupt, by preserving its rectitude by means of wise applications, and
sometimes even by fixing it when it is still uncertain. The employment
of seconds in duels, which had been carried to wild extremes in the
kingdom of France, was done away with merely by these words in a royal
edict: "As for those who are cowards enough to call upon seconds." This
judgment, in anticipating that of the public, suddenly decided it. But
when edicts from the same source tried to pronounce duelling itself an
act of cowardice, as indeed it is, then, since common opinion does not
regard it as such, the public took no notice of a decision on a point on
which its mind was already made up.
I have stated elsewhere[40] that as public opinion is not subject to any
constraint, there need be no trace of it in the tribunal set up to
represent it. It is impossible to admire too much the art with which
this resource, which we moderns have wholly lost, was employed by the
Romans, and still more by the Lacedæmonians.
A man of bad morals having made a good proposal in the Spartan Council,
the Ephors neglected it, and caused the same proposal to be made by a
virtuous citizen. What an honour for the one, and what a disgrace for
the other, without praise or blame of either! Certain drunkards from
Samos[41] polluted the tribunal of the Ephors: the next day, a public
edict gave Samians permission to be filthy. An actual punishment would
not have been so severe as such an impunity. When Sparta has pronounced
on what is or is not right, Greece makes no appeal from her judgments.