Interpretation, Vol_4-2

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a j o u r n a l o f political philosophy

volume 4/2 winter 1974

page

65 thomas s. engeman homer ic honor and thucydidean

necessi ty

79 w. b. alien theory and practice in th e

founding of the republic

98 robert r. or r intel lectual biography as a

form of the history of ideas

107 harry neumann atheistic freedom and the

in te rna t iona l society fo r th e

suppression of savage customs:

an in te rpre ta t ion of conrad's

hea r t o f da rknes s

martinus n i jho ff , the hague

e d i t e d at

queens college o f th e city univers i ty

o f ne w york



i n t e r p r e t a t i o n

a journal of politicalph i lo sophy

volume 4 issue 2

editors

seth g. benarde te hilail gildin robert horwi tz - h o w a r d b. white (1912-

1974)

consu l t i n g editors

j ohn ha l lowe l l - wilhelm hennis - erich hu la arnaldo momigliano-

michael oakeshott - le o strauss (1899-1973) - kenneth w. thompson

executive e d i t o r m a n a g i n g edi tor

hilail gildin an n mcardle

in terpre ta t ion is a journal devoted to the s tudy of pol i t ica l p h i l o s o p h y.

it appears three t i m e s a year.

its editors welcome contributions from all those wh o take

a serious interest in political ph i lo sophy regardless of their orientation.

all manuscr ip ts an d editorial correspondence

should be addressed to th e executive editor

i n t e rp re t a t i on

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65

H O M E R I C H O N O R A N D T H U C Y D I D E A N N E C E S S I T Y

T h o m a s S. E n g e m a n

Commenta to r s on Thucyd ides generally agree on at least on e point: h e

is exceedingly reluctant to reveal h is ow n t h o u g h t s concerning the m e a n i n g

of th e events which he n a r r a t e s . 1Thucydides'

reticence has natura l ly le d to

confusion in unders tanding his t rue intention. F or e x a m p l e , was T h u c y d i d e s

a supporter of Athen ian imperialism, as is often a rg u e d , or did he bel ieve

that imper ia l ambition was inevitably prone to a lack of moderation in

success an d t h e r e f o r e to ultimate disaster? Looking at the Mel ian dialogue-

Sicil ian expedition s e q u e n c e , it is frequently noted that the skillful

juxtaposi t ion of the hubristic speeches of the Athen ians at Meios and

t h e i r defeat in Sicily is designed to teach sensible me n that ambition and

success breed hope, daring, and defeat . A s H . D . F . Kitto judged theAthenians'

fate in Sicily, " their success h ad betrayed them."2

However, th i s conclusion seems to be only an inference based upon

the dramat ic association of the tw o events. Thucydides himself ascribes the

Athen ian d efe at in Sicily to the absence of an ou t s t and ing s ta te sm a n w ho

could command the steady adherence of a major i ty of th e citizens to a

consistent fore ign pohcy (11.65.10-11). ( W h a t is more important, th i s

j u d g m e n t is borne ou t by a s tudy of th e events which caused the A t h e n i a n

defeat.) If Pericles h ad lived, the expedition would no t have been

u n d e r t a k e n ; or if Alcibiades h ad been trusted by th e A t h e n i o n demos,

Sicily could have been conquered. Thucyd ides t h u s indicates that politics

depends upon individuals an d condi t ions , no t upon the designs of gods

or uponfate.3

1 Cf., fo r instance, A . W . Gomme, T h e G r e e k A t t i t ude to Poetry an d History(Berkeley: University of Cali fornia Press, 1954), pp. 307-8; A . W . Gomme, M o r e

Essays in G r e e k History an d Li t e r a tu re (O x fo rd : B asil Blackwell, 1962), pp. 123,

159ff.; Jacque l ine DeRomilly, T h u c y d i d e s an d Athen ian Impe r i a l i s m ( N ew York;

Barnes an d Noble, 1963), pp. 58, 103; H . D . F . Kitto, Poies is : S t ruc tu r e an d T h o u g h t

(London: C a m b r i d g e University Press, 1966), pp. 307-8; L eo Strauss, T h e City an d

M an (New Yo r k : Rand-McNally, 1964), pp. 1 4 4 - 4 5 .

2 Kitto, Poiesis, p. 336; Strauss, City an d Man, p. 153 .

3 Th i s is no t to deny that there is a c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n th e M el i an dia logue and

the Sic i l ian de fe a t . T h a t c on ne ctio n c an b een in th e inability of th e Athen ians at

M e i o s to unde r s t and th e essential p i e t y of politics. Af te rPericles '

death the Athenian

leaders wi t h the best na tu r e s , i.e., those capable of rule (Alcibiades), d e p r e c i a t e d th e

pious understanding of right in favor of the na tu ra l u n d e r s t a n d i n g of right. There fo re

they los t the trust of the demos, w h o , when s o r e l y troubled by th e magnitude an d

d a n g e r of the Sicilian expedi t ion , naturally turned to the pious Nicias, wh o was

f rom their point of view p e r f e c t l y trustworthy. Nicias, of c o u r s e , was unable to

e x e c u t e the plan conceived by th e daring Alcibiades . See Strauss , City an d Man,

pp . 1 9 5 - 2 0 9 .



66 Interpreta t ion

T h e elusiveness of Thucyd ides can b e traced to his singular manner of

writing. Kit to has characterized Thucyd ides as someone who "could sa y

t h i n g s without sayingthem."4 Thucyd ides (o r any on e of his cha rac t e r s )

can make judgments or speeches w hich are contradicted by the course of

events. A careful reader m ust com pare the events which Thucydides

r el at es w ith th e speeches which he (o r an y cha rac t e r ) makes about t h o s e

events in order to reveal th e deepest reflections of the writer. A s T h o m a s

H o b b e s says in th e "Address to th eReaders"

of his t r an s l a t i on of

Thucydides, " B u t t h e s e conjectures [ abou t the meaning of a history]cannot often be ce r t a in , unles s witha l so evident , that th e narration itself

m ay be sufficient to suggest th e same also to th er e ade r. "5

T h e Archeology

T h e Corinthians at th e first Congress at L a c e d a e m o n contrast th e

Athen ian manner and th e Spartan manner. W h e r e the Athenians are

innovative, swift to desire and a t t empt , publ ic-sp i r i ted , bold, hopeful, an d

lovers of m o t i o n , th e Spartans are traditional, s l o w, s e l f - conce rned , cau

tious, doubtful, and lovers of rest (1.70; cf. VII I .96 .5 ) . T h e C o r in th ia ns are

describing th e characters of th e dramat ic protagonists Sparta and Athens,whose struggle forms the axis of

Thucydides' his tory.6 The i r struggle,

according to Thucydides, is of the greatest importance because these tw ocities stand at the end of a long period o f p ro gre ss w hich has made them

truly significant. T h e Greeks, le d by Athens an d Sparta, now possess a

vast quantity of w ealth and power that has been stored u p during th e

prior age of p rogres s. T h e age of progress is a lso , in one sense , an age

of r e s t ; it provides the material needed to wage a"total"

wa r lasting fo r

decades and involving everyone (1.1.1-2, 23.1-4, II.82.1-2, 83.1, 85-87,11.38. 2, 6 2.1). T he g re at es t r es t and progress issue in th e grea tes t , no t to

say th e universa l , motion of th e Peloponnesian War. T h e wa r between

Athens an d h er allies and Sparta an d h er allies is a civil w a r, a stasis in

4 Kitto, Poiesis, p. 302.

5 T he Engl ish Works of T h o m a s Hobbes, ed. Sir W ill i am M o l e s w o r t h (London :

J o h n Bohn, 1843), Vo l . 8, p. viii. Is H ob be s correct in a s s u m i n g that Thucyd id e s was

perfect ly free to c h o o s e , a r r ange , or perhaps invent e v e n t s , i.e., to s a y any t h ing he

wished through h is narrative? Is t he r e no t a"historiographic"

n e c e s s i t y, th e

accidental occurrence of e v e n t s , which l imitsThucydides' "logographic"

potential?

Or, to pu t th e question in a more r e v e a l i ng w a y, to what extent was Thucyd ides a

scientific historian w ho w an ted o n l y to describe acc u r a t e l y the events that o c c u r r e d ,

or to w ha t e xt en t wa s h e c on ce rn ed w it h discovering th e causes of the events? If, as

indeed seems to be th e case , he wa s concerned wi th th e latter, wouldn't that task

force him, when n e c e s s a r y, to compromise th e s imply scientific re cita tio n o f the

l i teral and un re ve a l i ng facts?6 A . W . Gomme, A His to r i ca l Commentary on Thucyd ides (Oxford: O x f o r d

University Press, 1950), Vol . 1, p. 23 3 (1.71.5); DeRomilly, Thucydides, pp. 77-82,311-13; Strauss, City an d Man, pp . 148-49 .





68 In t e rp re t a t i on

an d spiritual potential. T h e warfare of the premier"modern"

G r e e k

r e g i m e s , Spar t a an d Athens, fully reveals man's pohtical p o s s i b i l i t i e s ,

while the unde r s t and ing of that war and it s causes represents the pinnacle

of h u m a n knowledge . Thus, T h u c y d i d e s establishes h is wisdom and h is

renown on the "ashes of the past," the dest ruct ion of H o m e r ' s heroic age.

T h a t dest ruct ion is necessary because men are traditional beings : they

will , when at rest an d freed f rom th e rigors of w a r f a r e , regard ancient

events as more wor thy of admiration than recent ones (1.21.2). A s the

descendants of the A c ha ea n h eroes would have revered some ancient

struggle perhaps the legendary wa r be tween A t h e n s and T h e b e s as

more significant than th e Tro jan War, h a d it no t been fo r Homer, so the

generations which follow the Pe loponnes i an W ar would return to their

admirat ion of the Tro jan W ar were it no t for Thucyd ides .

Thirdly, the a rcheo logy reveals a po rtion ofThucydides'

intention. I t

does so by the very fact that the demythologizing of the past undermines

poh ti ca l r eg imes founded on traditional mythology.Thucydides '

praise or

favorit ism t o w a r d Spar t a seems hol low when it is seen in the l ight of th e

fullness of his impl ied a t t ack , or debunking, of all t h i n g s"Spartan."

In drawing conclusions f rom the a r c h e o l o g y, we re ly on our observation

that it is one of the fe w parts ofThucydides'

history in which none of

the ambiguities be tween speech and deed complicate it s in terpre ta t ion .

Indeed,Thucyd ides emphasizes that h is presentation of th e facts about the

ancient t im e s is th e most accurate possible. "H e [the r e a d e r ] should regard

th e facts as having been made ou t with sufficient a c c u r a c y, on th e basis

of the clearest indications, consider ing that they have to do with ancient

t i m e s "

(1.21. 1).11 O ne m i g h t , l ike Hobbes, wonder whether Thucyd ides

"best approved of a regalgovernment,"

b u t one cannot w o n d e r , it s e e m s ,

about the rel iabil i ty of thea r c h e o l o g y. 1 2

A n d ye t Thucyd ides does mention in pass ing in the archeology that

some of the peoples of Greece still live in the o ld , cus tomary manner

of the ancients :

an d even today in m a n y parts of H el l a s life goes on under th e ol d c u s t o m s , as in

the region of the O z o l i a n Locrians, Aetolians, Acarnanians, an d the mainland

t h e r e a b o u t s . A n d t h e s emainlanders'

habi ts of c a r r y i n g arms ["wearingiron,"

H o b b e s says ] is a survival of their ol d p i r a t i ca l life [1.5.3, 5.1-2, 5.6, 6.6] .

T h u c y d i d e s in t roduces th e possibil i ty that th e past m ay be found in th e

present. This possibil i ty parallels Benardete ' s observation about the nature

of the H e r o d o t e a n history : " T h e surface of the e ar th p re se nts together

all the Hesiodic a g e s , which are no t distinguished so much by what metals

they use as by their c u s t o m s . " 1 3 T h e archeology is no t self-contained in

1 1 Trans l a t i ons follow C . Foster Smith, Loeb Class ica l Library (N ew Yo rk : G . P .

P u t n a m ' s Sons, 1919), with a fe w minor exceptions.

1 2 Hobbes, "O f the Life an d History ofThucydides,"

Molesworth, Hobbes,Vo l . 8, p. xvii.

1 3 Benardete, H e r o d o t e a n Inquiries, p. 2 9 .



Homer ic H o n o r an d Thucyd idean Necessity 69

spite ofThucydides'

deceptive exhortation to accept it as such. T h e

conclusions which he reaches regarding th e weaknes s , harshness, an d

rustici ty of the past as opposed to the s t r eng th , mildness , and artfulness

of the pre sen t , an d his picture of the ignorance and adornment of the

past versus th e tr uth fu ln es s and honesty of th e pre sen t , are open to a

reevaluation based on th e narrative description of the peoples wh o live byth e old customs.

T he" A n c i e n t '

Acarnan ians

O f th e three p eo ple s w ho are nam ed by Thucydides, and of the others

who live in th e "main landt h e r e a b o u t s , "

i.e., around the Ionian gul f , the

Acarnanians are the people most fully revealed by the T h u c y d i d e a n

narrative. They are not only mentioned by name more than t w i c e as often

as the Ozo l i an Locr ians and Aetolians combined b u t are a l s o , as we shall

later see, the close friends an d allies of the Athen ian generals P h o r m i o

and Demosthenes . T he latter is, we believe, the t r ue and fittingly undra-

matic T h u c y d i d e a n m an ofact ion.14 Fur the r following Strauss, we note

th a t th e Acarnanians are associated with Demosthenes, a k n o w e r of nature

(IV.3-4) and that the year in which they f igure most prominen t ly in the

narrative (the sixth year of th e first part of the w a r ) is the only year

1 4 "Thucydides nowhere spec i f ica l ly assesses the abi l i ty of D e m o s t h e n e s or the

value of hi s services to Athens, an d the general impress ion given by th e narrative is

equivocal. T h a t h e b elie ve d D em o sth en es to have be en brave, energetic an d enter-

pr iz ing , an inspiring leader of me n and n o r m a l l y a good tactician, is p e r f e c t l y c l e a r,

bu t he appa ren t l y also regarded h im as inclined to be impetuous an d found h is

s t r a t e g y occas ional ly unsound an d to o optimistic. I t m a y be that T h u c y d i d e s . . . has

designedly chosen to present D e m o s t h e n e s to h is readers with p r e c i s e l y th i s mix tu re

of approval an d d isa pp ro va l. H e s e e m s , however, in some parts of h is narrative

s t r a n g e l y reluctant to give D e m o s t h e n e s due credit fo r the o r i g i n a l i t y an d imag in

ativeness which h e u n d o u b t e d l y showed. T h e s e qual i t ies , in the mil i ta ry sphere at

least, bore some r e s emb lance to t h o s e of Themistocles, which T h u c y d i d e s praises so

warmly"(1.138.2) (H . D . Westlake, I n d iv i dua l s in T h u c y d i d e s [ C a m b r i d g e : C a m b r i d g e

University Press, 1968], pp . 97-98) . Pro fe s so r Westlake, as h e c l e a r l y demonstrates,

is in factual c o m m a n d ofT h u c y d i d e s '

narrative. H e notesT h u c y d i d e s '

unjust den ig r a

t ion of D e m o s t h e n e s ( c o m p a r eT h u c y d i d e s '

s t r i k i n g e u l o g y onNicias '

dea th with

his silence onDemosthenes '

[VTI.86], b u t he c a n n o t a d e q u a t e l y account fo r it .

O ne might suggest that D e m o s t h e n e s wa s sl ighted inT h u c y d i d e s '

account becaus e

Thucyd ide s wished to d r a m a t i z e more c l e a r l y the rivalry b e t w e e n the pious Nicias

an d the daring A l c i b i a d e s .

D e m o s t h e n e s '

true worthwould

bed i s c o v e r e d

byan

i n d e p e n d e n t assessment of D e m o s t h e n e s based on th e narrative. Demos the nes learns

f rom h is mistake in Aeto l i a an expedit ion unde r t aken on bad intelligence, in to o

hope fu l an d incaut ious a sp i r i t , an d wi thou t sufficient mil i ta ry preparation. Having

l e a rned the" n a t u r e "

of moderation, D e m o s t h e n e s c lever ly beats th e Spar tans at

Pylos . T h e de fea t forced the S pa r t an s to su e fo r peace an d thus to recognize th e

Athenian empire th e en d sought by Per ic les . Afte r th e renewal of th e w a r ,

b r o u g h t abou t by Alcibiades, D e m o s t h e n e s d o e s n ot reap pear until Sicily, when

h e nearly saves the exped i t i on an d h is city through h is prudent daring an d patriotism.



70 In te rp re t a t ion

inThucydides'

account which "a lmos t begins ( I I I . 89) an d literally ends

with th e mention of naturalp h e n o m e n a . " 1 5 In add i t i on , while describing

th e events of that yea r, e ve nts w hi ch t a k e place around th e Ionian gulf

where the old customs ar e still

prac t i ced ,T h u c y d i d e s mentions both

Hesiod and H o m e r by n a m e ; t h i s is h is only reference to H esiod in the

entire history and th e only reference to H o m e r after th e archeology

(III.96.1, 104.4). Finally, an indirect proof of theAcarnanians'

singular

importance can b e seen in th e following detail: they are th e only one of

the peoples named in th e archeology who practice customs different from

t h o s e attributed to th e ancients by Thucyd ides . If all th e peoples in "the

mainlandt h e r e a b o u t s "

d iffe re d f ro m th e description in th e a r cheo logy,

Thucyd ides co uld n ever have maintained th e "p rog re s s ivet h e s i s "

as th e

preliminary understanding of h is work. By so confusing th e levels of h isthoughts, Thucydides would have been impolit ic in a whol ly

un-Thucy-

didean manner.

These observations ca n only be proved or disproved by a proper

in terpre ta t ion of th e events which Thucyd ides narrates. So le t us turn to

the events so that "the narration itself m ay be sufficient to suggest the

same a lso to thereader."

A t the beginning of the wa r the Athenians decided that they needed th e

friendship of th e p eo ple s w ho lived around th e Pelopponnese if they were

to send fleets to harass the Spartans. T h e ambassadors sent to the

Acarnanians w e r e , however, unsuccessful in establishing friendly relations

(II.7.3).

In th e second year of the wa r the Acarnan ians asked the Athen ians

to help them drive the Ampraciots f rom Amphilochian Argos, the

Amphilochians having placed t h e m s e l v e s under th e protection of th e

Acarnanians . Successfully defeating th e Ampraciots, the Athen ians settled

th e Acarnan ians and th e Amphilocians in Argos. A t th is t im e a treatywas first made be tween th e Athenians and the Acarnanians (11.68).

In th e summer of the third year of the wa r th e Ampraciots and the

Chaonians, wishing to subdue th e whole of Acarnan ia and detach i t from

th e Athenians (11.80. 1-2), persuaded the Spartans to send a fleet an d

hoplites to aid in th e conquest. T h e Spartans consented to th e plan and

organized their allies. W h e n t h i s Peloponnesian a rmy a r r i ved , with an

accompanying fleet soon expec t ed , the Acarnan ians d id no t join together

to defend the i r major city Stratus, b u t "each defended h isown"

(11.81. 1).

T he Stratians, however, without ass is tance , cleverly managed to defeat the

invaders by ambushing the Chaonians th e barbar ians who lacked all

s em bla nc e o f order. T h e Spartans, quickly recogniz ing defeat, withdrew.

Thucyd ides accounts in part fo r th e success of the Acarnanians by not ingthat they were t h o u g h t best in the use of slings (11.80-82).

T h a t winter the Acarnanians joined Phormio in an unsuccessful attack

on the Acarnanian city of Oeniadae, th e only Acarnanian city hosti le to

15 Strauss, City an d Man, p. 223, n. 83 .



Homer ic H o n o r an d Thucyd idean Necessity 71

Athens ( I I .102) .16Oeniadae, it should b e n o t e d , h ad an obvious reason to

oppose the Athenians, having been besieged by Pericles during th e earlyrise of th e Athenian empire (1.111.3). In the next year th e Athenians sent

ou t Phormio 's son to take command in the Ionian gul f , fo r th e Acarnan iansh ad specifically asked that a son or a k insman of Phormio should be

sent to succeed him. Phormio 's son le d another unsuccessful attack on

Oeniadae (III .7).

By th e sixth year of the war Demosthenes h ad become general in the

Ionian gulf. T he firs t jo int expedition of th e Athenians and Acarnanians

was launched against Leucas, the inveterate enemy of the Acarnan ians .

In th e course of th i s campaign Demosthenes was unwise ly persuaded to

attack Aetol ia an d f rom th e re to march on Boeotia. T h e Acarnan ians

angrily withdrew f rom the exped i t i on , which in due cou rse e nd ed disas

trously (111.94). Nevertheless, immediately a f t e rwa rds , when the A t h e n i a n s

were in danger of being entirely dr iven from the a rea , the Acarnan ians

listened to Demos thenes and relieved Naupactus, th e Athen ian stronghold

t h r ea t ene d by th e Amprac io t s and S p a rt an s ( II I. 102).

Failing to take Naupactus, the Ampraciots, still wishing to capitalize

onDemosthenes'

defeat, persuaded the Spar tans that the conquest of

Acarnan ia would bring all of the continent into their league. With theSpartans'

approval an d prom ise of ass is tance , th e A m p ra cio ts in va de d

Acarnan ia and secured Olpae, " the place which th e Acarnanians h ad once

fortified and used as a common place of justice(dikasterion)"

(III . 105) .

Fearing the arrival of the Spartans, th e Acarnanians divided their army:

half watched the Amprac io t s while the other half t r ied to prevent the

Spar tans f rom joining t h e m . In add i t i on , they sent f or D e m osth en es and

the Athen ian fleet sailing off their coast. T h e Spartans, however, avoided

th eAcarnanians'

attempts at interdiction and jo ined the Ampraciots,while Demos thenes with a small force joined th e A c ar na nia ns b efo re

Olpae. In th e ensuing battle, the Athenians and Acarnanians, using an

ambush similar to the one used by the Stratians against th e Chaonians,defeated the Amprac io t -Spa r t an force. T h e Acarnan ian generals and

Demos thenes then made a peace agreement with th e Peloponnesians,

allowing them to escape and condemning th e remainder of the a r m y,

the Amprac io t s and the other al l ies , to almost certain d estr uc tio n. T h is

i O ne should note that while s p e a k i n g of Oeniadae Thucyd ides presents a

comparatively long d i s q u i s i t i o n on th e natural re la t ionship of earth an d water

(II . 102 .2-4) . H is "o b s e r va t i o ns an dspeculations"

on this subject remind G o m m e of

Pla to ' s Cr i t ias (III.A-B) (Commentary, Vol . 2, p. 250) . Also, Thucydides has a

lengthly digress ion on the myth ica l origins of A c a r n a n i a (11.102. 5-6). (I n th e Thi rd

Book, at 104, he presents Homer, interrupting hi s a cc ou nt o f the events in Acarnan ia

[ c o m p a r e ni.104, with 1.8. fo r a fu r the r identification of ancients an d m o d e r n s ] ;

while at 96.1, describing events in Aetolia, he puts H es iod an d Demos thenes in th e

s a m e sentence.) A s will be shown m o r e fully below, Thucydides c on t i n ua l l y associates

the presen t Acarnan ians with th e m y t h i c a l , poetic past in order fo r us to see t h a t

there is no d i f f e r e nce b e t w ee n them.



7 2 Interpretation

s tr at ag em w as successful. T h e Ampraciots, having seen the P e l o p o n n e s i a n s

e s c a p i n g , attempted to follow them, were cu t off by the Acarnanians, an d

dr iven into a ne ighbor ing coun t ry ( 111 . 1 0 5 - 1 3 ) .

Afte r the defeat of the Ampraciots, the A c a r n a n i a n s refused to i nvade

A m p r a c i a as the Athenians an d D e m o s t h e n e s desi red them to do, fo r they

feared that if the Athen ians h ad A m p r a c i a they would b e worse

neighbors than their present ones. Instead, after D e m o s t h e n e s and the

Athen ians left, they concluded a peace treaty with the A m p r a c i a n s on

very liberal t e r m s (III . 114.2-4; cf.TV.92 .5 ) .17

In the summer of the seventh year of the war the Athen ians helped

capture Anac to r ium (a city in imica l to the Acarnan ians [III. 114.3]) and

turned it over to the Acarnanians, who settled it with their ow n people

( IV.49) . T h a t winter the Acarnan ians took part with D e m o s t h e n e s inan unsuccessful attack on the Boeo t i an t o w n of Siphae . O n the re turn

voyage they tried another unsuccessful attack on part of Sicyonia (IV.77,

101). T h e Acarnan ians come to sight fo r the last time inT h u c y d i d e s '

history in Sicily, having been persuaded by D e m o s t h e n e s to a c c o m p a n y

h im there on his relief expedition (VI I . 31).

W h a t ca n be learn ed f rom these narrative events and T h u c y d i d e a n

remarks (III. 113.6, V I I . 5 7 . 10-11) which deepen the unde r s t and ing of the

"progress ivet h e s i s "

and hence the deprecat ion of"ancient"

h fe an d

wisdom? T o answer t h i s question we must fur ther distill the sense of

th e narrative. First, it appears that the Acarnan ians are as unorganized as

T h u c y d i d e s h a d suggested that the"ancients"

were (1.3.1) . They lack

s t rong pol i t i ca l , mi l i t a ry, or rehgious conventions or laws. Politically, theyare no t even united under the leadership of a single polis. T h e majo r i t y of

the Acarnan ians live in unwalled vi l l ages ; they are like an e t h n o s ; the

inhabi tants of each locality are ruled by t y r a n t s who a p p e a r to be the

obvious ly su pe rio r m en (1.5.1). T h e Acarnan ians are therefore analogous

to the people of Att ica before Theseus gathered them together (II . 15. 1-2).A s on e might e x p e c t , the Acarnan ians are also weak militarily. The i r

weakness is caused by their general inability, and apparent unwillingness,

to learn th e regimented t e ch n ique s needed fo r efficient military organi

zation. They are relu ctan t to assemble fo r purposes of warfare; once

a s s e m b l e d , they are difficult to order fo r b attle. However, weakness in

their case cannot b e asso ciated w ith a lack of individual intelligence, ski l l ,

or daring. T he Acarnan ian generals are resourceful and devious. Theyplan tw o e ff ec tiv e a mb us he s and share in the

" p e a c e "

agreement with

the Peloponnesians which gives them the oppor tun i ty to destroy their

ne ighbo r s , the Amprac io t s . Individually the Acarnan ian soldiers ar e profi

cient in th e use of s l ings , an open kind of warfare requir ing personal skill

1 7 Gomme, Commentary, Vo l . 2, p. 4 2 9 : " A m p r a k i a gets of f very lightly after

h er defeat, and Athens go t little by the v i c t o r y ofDemosthenes."



H o m eric H o n o r an d Thucyd idean Necessity 73

and daring, as opposed to th e discipline of the galley an d p h a l a n x ,which necessitates strict obedience to convent ion .18

FinaUy, T h u cy d id e s i nd ic at es that the Acarnanians are no t excessively

pious. In fact, he never shows a single instance of their religious festivalsor auspices before c a m p a i g n s , no r does he mention any Acarnanian

temples, nor report oaths sworn to th e gods (one certainly would anticipate

such o aths to legitimate the treaty with Ampracia; oaths were sworn in

each of the three t rea t ies between Spar ta and Athens [IV. 119, V .I 8-19,24]).

In addition to th e apparent laxity of th e Acarnanian convent ions ,one is struck by the overall prudence and moderation of their policies.

The i r prudence is evident in t he i r alliance with Athens and use of

Athenian power to maintain and improve t h e i r ow n position while

never allowing th e Athenians to become to o powerful in the area. B u t

th e Acarnanians d id no t ignore considerations of equity (dike) an d loyaltyin their deliberations. Originally they allied t h e m s e l v e s to Athens onlyafter they h ad come to respect Phormio. This attachment apparent lymotivated t h e i r request that a kinsman of P ho rm io be sent to replace h im

(a request which probably also reveals th e nature of t h e i r o wn r eg im e) .

Finally, their affection fo r Demosthenes and loyalty to A th en s led them

into th e middle of the Athen ian disaster in Sicily.

T h e source of the Acarnanians'moderation ca n be t r a ced to t h e i r

t e m p o r a t e ange r, or desire fo r revenge. Thucydides explicitly d raws

attention to the fac t that the stronghold at Olpae was used as a place

where the Acarnanians would meet t oge the r for "m atters ofjustice."

While t h i s m ay seem to indicate that in peaceful t i m e s they acted justlyt o w a r d one ano the r, we can see that during the course of the wa r they are

hesitant to infl ict injury on their own people. Even t h o u g h they jo ined in

tw o expeditions with th e Athenians against Oeniadae (an Acarnanian

city) , bo th cam paigns w ere marked by inactivity a nd n on en ga ge me nt

(11.102, III.7).19 O n another occasion when anger or revenge might

have been expec t e d , th e Acarnanians acted in a generous manner bygiving l iberal peace t e r m s to the quarrelsome Ampraciots, wh o had

i nvaded them no f ewer than three t i m e s during th e course of the war.

Could the Acarnanians have pitied the A m p ra cio ts b ecau se of t h e i r

stupendous defea t (the greatest defeat suffered by an y city, in a short

18 Occasionally some question is raised as to whether the A c a rn a ni an s h a d a fleet.

Since there is no substantial evidence to support the f lee tthesis,

most commentators

agree that they did n o t ; cf. Gomme, Commentary, Vo l . 2, p. 4 11 . I t is c lear, how

e v e r , that they did ha ve a hopl i te force (Commentary, p. 4 20 [1 07 .4 ]. These are

p r o b a b l y t r o o p s f rom the larger cities an d fo rm exceptions to th e almost universal

slingers (11.81. 8, 82, VH.31.5, 67.2).

is Gomme, Commentary, Vol. 2, p. 11 (9.4), is w r o n g when he claims that

O e n i a d a e wa s always at variance with th e rest of Acarnan ia . T h e Acarnanians settled

t h e i r ow n d i s a g r ee m en t an d made O e n i a d e become a member of th e alliance

( IV.77.2) .



7 4 In t e rp re t a t ion

time, in th e entire war)? Such a motive would be compatible with their

desire no t to have the Athen ians as neighbors (III . 113.6) . Whateve r the

r e a s o n , it is certainly an example of moderation in success ( V I I I . 2 4 . 4 - 5 ) .

T h u c y d i d e s notes the anger of the A c a r n a n i a n s on only on e o c c a s i o n ,

and on e is astonished by it s mildness. E v e n though D e m o s t h e n e s reneged

on his promise to th e Acarnan ians to attack Leucas, their invetera te

e n e m y, th e Acarnan ians quickly forgot their anger and helped D e m o s

t h e n e s defend N a u p a c t u s (III . 102.3) . T h eAcarnanians'

moderate anger

or desire fo r revenge is par t icular ly striking because of the overr id ing

emphasis Thucyd ides puts upon th i s passion in motivat ing pohtical m e n ,

especiaUy in t i m e s of statis: "T o get revenge on someone was more

valued than never to have suffered injuryoneself"

I I I . 8 2 . 7 ) . 2 0

Thucydides"

Jus t ice

WhUe the comparative mUdness of the Acarnan ians is surprising in

l ight of the supposed harshness and cruel ty of ancient life d e sc ri be d in th e

a r cheo logy, no t to mention the savage ry of modern political m a n , it is no t

th e only evidence which suggests that life m ay actuaUy have been gentler

in fo rmer t imes (o r under different customs) .21 In a speech designed to

assuage theAthenians'

desire fo r revenge against th e Mytilenaeans, an

otherwise unknown indiv idual named Diodo tus makes a sophistical defense

of moderation in which he conc ludes , "Probably in ancient t i m e s the

penalties prescribed fo r the greatest offenses were re la t ive ly m U d , b u t as

t r a n s g r e s s i o n s still o c c u r r e d , in course of t ime the penal ty was seldom

less thandeath"

(III .45.3).

Thucydides, through Diodotus, raises th e infinite question of the

2 0 T h e desire fo r revenge is, ac c o rd ing to Thucydides, the s tr on ge st a nd dee p es t

passion fo u n d in p oli tic al m an . T he firs t c o n f l i c t , the c on fli ct w hic h became the

e xp re ss ed c au se fo r th ew a r,

issued from theCorinthians'

desire to have revenge

on C o r c y r a (1.25). Pericles, in the fune ra l ora t i on , ennobles anger by s a y i n g that

th e grea te s t source of h o n o r fo r citizens is to d ie s e e k i n g r ev en ge u po n the enemies

of one's city (II .42.4). T h e e nn ob le me nt o f a nge r, i.e., the immortality guaranteed

to th e spirited defender of th e city through the immortality of the c i ty, is th e basis

of th e city's universalism. S u c h universalism is o n l y possible through an abstraction

f rom th e body an d its erotic attachments: an abstraction f rom one's death, c h i l d r e n ,

wife , lo ve r. T his abstraction m a y b e consecrated by n o m o s (V.67-69, 72, VII.86.5),or it m a y be obfuscated by a

"public"eros the universal g l o r y an d demina t ion of

one's city (II.41.4-5, 43.2-4, 44.2-4, 1.70.6, VI.16.5) . T h e s e different ways to public-

spiritedness seem to characterize the difference between the Spar tans an d the

Athenians .

2 1 B:na rde te has pointed out that the word savage (cofjov) occurs t h r i c e in

book III an d nowhere else. I ts usage is instructive and t h r o w s l ight on several

facets ofThucydides'

account: (1) th e Athenians, after their or ig ina l ha r sh j u d g m e n t

of th e Mytilenaeans, r e p e n t e d , feeling that they h a d acted savagely (36); (2) in

Corcyra, Thu cy d id e s says that men acted s a v a g e l y (82); (3) it was r epo r t ed that

the Eurestanians at e ra w flesh (94).



Homer ic H o n o r an d Thucydidean Necessity 75

relationship of h u m a n nature and convention. Diodotus argues that

c o n v en t i on , or th e legislative ar t , is"progressive"

like th e other arts. B u t

th e progress of convention is th e same as the s t rengthening of convention:

progress equals power. In th e a r cheo logy, Thucyd ides showed that

convention has th e power to change th e relation of m otio n a nd rest amongme n (1.18.1, 6-7). I t creates r e s t , generates wea l th , and makes possible

"Greekness"

and the tw o premier Greek cit ies , Spar ta and Athens .

Putting t o g e t h e rDiodotus'

speech and the a r c h e o l o g y, we observe what

price men pay fo r the progress of convention: it leads to an ever greater

r eli an ce o n convention an d consequently a heightened fear of it s contra

vention and removal. Thi s accounts fo r the increased punitiveness of l aws

an d men which Diodo tus mentions and fo r the overpower ing anger

generated by th e stasis atCorcyra .22

Diodotus, the Athenian, appears as

th e spokesman fo r th e an c i en t , Acarnan ian nuldness. B u t his mUdness is

a result of re f lec t ion , th e reflection (and res t ) possible in p o s t - c o n v e n t i o n a l ,

innovat ive Athens; theAcarnanians'

results f rom the pre-progressive

laxness of their conventions. H u m a n nature is c o r r u p t e d , bu t necessari ly

corrupted by c o n v e n t i o n ; the innocence of both the Athenians an d

Acarnan ians is easUy and necessarUy los t on th e level of political affairs

Spar ta and h er aUies defeat Athens and h er aUies.

H o w e v e r this m ay be, th e importance of the Acarnanians does not end

with t e s ti m o n i a l s to t h e i r gentleness and moderation. A s an"ancient"

people they are undoub ted ly associated with"ancient"

wisdom. T h u c y d i d e s

emphasizes t h i s association when h e digresses to describe th e place where

Hesiod died and th e purification of Delos, in the section recount ingDemosthenes'

expeditions around the Ionian gulf. T h e digression on the

purfication of Delos includes verses f rom H o m e r ' s H y m n to Apollo, which

describe a color fu l , idyUic fest ival held long ago on th e is land of Delos.

This romantic scene is th e only passage in th e whole of th e T h u c y d i d e a n

narritive which looks at h u m a n affairs peaceful ly and privately:

A t o t h e r t i m e s , Phoebus, D e l o s is deares t to y o u r heart, where the Ionians in

trailing robes are gathered t o g e t h e r with t h e i r wives an d children in your w a y ;

t h e r e they del ight t h e e with boxing an d dancing an d s o n g , m a k i n g mention of your

n a m e , whenever they ordain th e contest.23

2 2 C o n v e n t i o n n urtures an d rules anger. W h e n convention is removed, as at

Corcyra, anger an d the desire fo r revenge are insanely emancipated.

23 O n e cannot help o b s e r v i n g that T huc yd ide s ends h is quo ta t ion of the second

passage of the H y m n to Apol lo in mid-sentence. T h e complete

q u o t a t i o n ,with the

omission u n d e r s c o r e d , is as fo l lows: " C o m e n o w, le t Apol l o be gracious an d Ar temis

also an d farewell, all y o u m ai de ns . Y et r e m e m b e r me even in after t imes, whenever

some other toil-enduring m a n , a dwel ler u p o n the earth, s ha ll v is it th i s island an d

ask: 'O m a i d e n s , what man is the sweetest of minstrels to yo u of all who w a n d e r

hither, an d in whom do yo u t a k e m o s tdelight?'

D o yo u make a n s w e r , p i o u s l y an d

a l toge the r 'The bl ind ma n who dwel ls in ruggedChios'

w ho se s on gs ar e evermore

sup reme ( thebest"

(165-73) . Homer, in the contest of p o e t s , proclaims his e t e rna l

superiority to all other contenders. Entering the lists somewhat late, Thucyd ides



76 Interpreta t ion

TemporarUy a b a n d o n i n g his political and nnl i ta i ry or"war"

n a r r a t i v e ,

T h u c y d i d e s in t roduces th e ancient H o m e r to speak of p r iva t e , s exua l , an d

honor-seeking relations(e ros) .2 i T h e fact that th e only view of peace

which is presented in the whole of T h u c y d i d e s takes place in the past

indicates again that th e"progress"

which produced th e greatest m o t i o n ,

the Pe loponnes i an War, m ay after aU b e a regress. D o e s that progress

compensate fo r th e absence of aH o m e r ? 2 5

B u t beyond this, th e narrative presence of th e Acarnan ians fur ther

correctsT h u c y d i d e s '

i nd i c tmen t of th e past. Thucydides, as we have s e e n ,

says that poets ar e unreliable because they exaggerate an d beautify the

events they describe ( I .10 .3 ) .26 T h e poe t s , to take the most i m p o r t a n t

ca se , claimed that the heroes who served A g a m e m n o n did so to fulfill the

oath to Tyndareus . Thucyd ides corrects that mistaken beautification

through his historical research an d sober reflection: men are motivated

" n o t so much by favor (o r honor) as byfear"

(1.9.3) . In th i s light, when

T h u c y d i d e s gives h is catalogue of the co mb atan ts on th e great SicUian

e x p e d i t i o n , h e naturaUy reaffirms h is unb l ink ing j u d g m e n t of h u m a n

things: "they (the aUies) chose sides no t so much on the ground of right

(dike) or even kinship to one another b u t either ou t of regard fo r their

o wn a dv an ta ge or from necess i ty (ananke), acco rd ing to th e circumstances

in which they happened to beplaced"

(VII.57.1; fo r th e entire a s s e m b l y,

see 57-58; compare the I li ad I I. 48 5 -e n d ). A n d ye t when we look d o w nth e list of Athen ian aUies we find near the end the Acarnanians, who came

on th i s long an d doubtful v e n t u r e , as T h u c y d i d e s himself aff i rms , no t fo r

reasons of advantage or necess i ty, b u t ou t of friendship, good wiU, and

concern. "Some of th e Acarnan ians served fo r g a i n , b u t th e la rger portion

[were m o v e d ] by friendship fo r Demos thenes and good wUl toward the

Athenians being allies an d coming to theiraid"

(VII . 57. 10). 2T

does no t appear to break th e code of good s p o r t s m a n s h i p by s t r i k i n g H o m e r ' s b o a s tf rom the r eco rd ( com pa re 11.62. 1-3, 1.21, 22.4, 23).

2 4 Thucydides m en tio ns w om en o n l y in their connection wi th political life. F o r

e x a m p l e , they f ight at Pla t aea and C o r c y r a (II.4.2, 111.74). Per ic les t e l l s them to b e

silent in their grief (11.45.2). Further, eros is on l y used once by T h u c y d i d e s in the

nominative, in the u n u s u a l love of th e Athen ians fo r Sicily (VI.24.3) while Per ic les

asks the Athenians to b ec om e lo ve rs of their city (11.43. 1) . (For the excep t i o n that

proves the ru le , consider 1.136.3.) M o s t important,Thucydides'

view of the conflict

between erotic des i re (the p r i v a t e ) an d a good regime (the p u b l i c ) ca n be seen in

hi s discussion of th e so-called t y r a n n i c i d e s H a r m o d i u s an d Aris togei ton ( V I . 5 3 . 3 - 5 9 ) .

T h u c yd id e s d e pr e ci at es eros /o r the same reason Pla to d oe s fo r the sake of the

public an d the c o m m o n , th e city (Republic, 420b-421c, 440b, 452c-459e) .

2 5 Strauss, City an d Man, p. 2 3 6 .

2 6 Thucydides, of course, does t a k e th e l i teral bas is of H o m e r ' s account s e r i o u s l y,

bo th in the a r c h e o l o g y (1.10.3-4) a n d , more important, in book III, where Thucyd i de s

presents H o m e r to show that there wa s an anc ien t fes t iva l on Delos ( compare 1.9.3

an d I I I .104.6) .

2 7 T h e A c arn an ia ns symbolize the anc ien t peoples at t h e i r bes t . T h e Aetol ians



H o m eric H o n o r an d Thucydidean Necessity 77

Thucyidides t h u s foregoes h is cus tomary sever i ty, and permits th e

Acarnanians, his ancient or Homer ic peop le , to voyage on his epic

exped i t i on , no t prosaically, fo r reasons of gain or necess i ty, b u t

HomericaUy, fo r friendship and honor. In th i s marvelously"silent"

and

indirect fashion, Thucydides apologizes to H o m e r fo r th e injustice he h ad

shown to h im in th e archeology. Homeric w i s d o m , which adorns and

exaggera tes , is res tored , and th e entire "progressivet h e s i s "

of th e

archeology is corrected. T h e ancient Acarnanians (the barbarians) are

shown to be in fundamental respects the precursors of Athenian and

Thucyd idean gent leness , inteUigence, daring, and moderation (dike).

Thucydides t hus qualifies his own account (1.1.1-2, 23.1-4, III.82.1-2,83.1, II.38.2, 62.1); no wa r is t o t a l w a r , no motion is total motion. W ar

and th e motion which w ar brings can never become universal. There are

always restful places an d restful t i m e s in the midst of the greatest

possible mot ion , as there are me n (the Acarnanians, Demosthenes, an d

Thucydides) who can live amidst th e greatest mot ion , still guided bypassions and opinions which are supposed only to be fo un d in peace

mUdness , honor, and patriotism (III.82.2).28 T he wisdom of Thucydides,which looks to an absolute necessity (ananke) caused by absolute m o t i o n ,is as deficient as th e wisdom of Homer, which disguises necessity (war

an d m o t i o n ) in a halo of gods and heroes (1.9.3). There is always a

combination of m otion and rest in both the theoretical and th e practical

world.

Homer ic wisdom is as t r ue as Thucyd idean wisdom. T h e H om eric

barbarians are , in m a n y r e s pec t s , bet ter me n than th e Greeks: Thucydides

allows us to see th i s . So in the e n d , ancients an d m o d e r n s , barbarians

and Greeks, H o m e r an d Thucydides, an d honor and necessity are all

judged by Thucyd ides in a new and juster perspective.

In s u m m a r y, on e might characterizeThucydides'

con te st w ith H o m e r as

follows: H o m e r proceeds with poetic e loquence and t h e nsUently

qualifies

his great t h e m e s through th e dramat ic denouement. A s Benardete has

observed about H o m e r ' s manner of writing: "the Il iad moves from th e

apparent ly higher to the apparent ly lower; AchiUes, the Achaean hero,finaUy yields to his o p p o s i t e s . " 2 9 O ne might sa y that th e honor-lovingAchUles yields to th e wily

Odysseus .30

Thucydides, on the other hand, claiming to proceed prosaicaUy and

severely (i n opposition to Homer), in fact fashions a poetic drama, and

t h e n sUently qualifies both his prosaic and his poetic accounts. H e proceeds

serve fo r gain (VII.57.9), th e Ozol ian Locrians are no longer m e n t i o n e d , an d none

of the other peoples of th e Ionian gulf are distinguished by name.

2 8 T h e Spartans an d th e pious Nicias, while a p p e a r i n g f rom th e point of view

of outsiders to be at rest an d to desire res t , are a c t u a l l y always in motion. The i r

private an d hidden motion results f rom th e potential or actual depredat ions of helots

an d gods (1.101-2, IV.41.3, 80, VIII.40.2, VII.50.4).2 9 "Ach i l l e s an d th e

Iliad"

H e r m e s 91 (1963):16.

so Cons ide r Odyssey XI.488-91, X X I V.





79

T H E O R Y A N D P R A C T I C E

IN T H E F O U N D I N G O F T H E R E P U B L I C

W . B . Allen

Those s e r i o u s , t h o u g h natural e n m i t i e s , which occur between the popular classes

an d the n o b i l i t y, a r i s ing f rom th e desire of th e la t ter to c o m m a n d , an d the

dis inc l ina t ion of the fo rmer to o b e y, are the causes of most of th e troubles which take

place in c i t i es ; an d f rom th i s diversity of p u r p o s e , all the other evils which disturb

republics derive t h e i r origin.

Niccolo Machiavelli, History of Florence, Bk. Ill

A recent interpretation of Montesquieu 's contribution to th e foundingof Amer ica argues that the disagreement b e tw e e n F e d er ali st s and Anti-

federalists is of negligible importance . Traditionally, Montesqu ieu has

been held to have contributed to the founding principaUy through the

doctrine o f s ep ar atio n of powers. In rejecting that v i e w, t h i s argument

does no t maintain that separation of powers has been misunderstood in

Montesqu ieu though that argument is possible. Rather, it is urged that

separation of p ow er s w as an administrative necess i ty, and t hus historicallyd ete rm in ed . T h us is Montesqu ieu r e j e c t ed , without question as to what

h e meant to say or as to how he was understood by Federalists and

Antifederalists .

T he problem in part arises from the difficulty of Montesqu ieu ' s

principal w o r k , D e I 'Espr i t des lois. I t offers the critic an extremely

difficult t a s k : to derive the schematic form of a government f rom a work

that, in th e final ana lys i s , offers only a picture of it s character. T h e hones t

critic wUl only reconstruct the characterization. If, however, on e is

confronted with an immed ia t e pohtical task as well as the in terpre t ive task,

honesty is insufficient . Federalists and Antifederalists as critics co n

f ronted t h i s difficulty. A possible approach is to l imit one's appraisal to the

firts tw o sections of L'Espr i t des lois, where some dicta as to form an d

mechanisms can be found. Y et t hose sections form an i ncomple t e

s t a t emen t , particularly as they are foUowed by a middle s ec tio n w hich

develops a definitive characterization of th e republic. StUl, the founders

were forced to focus their a tte ntio n o n th e first tw o sections Anti feder

alists stiU more so t h a n Federalists. Montesquieu, therefore, w ou ld seem

to have left them behind and perhaps even to have misled t h em as he

moves to a conside ra ti on o f th e republic. B u t whether that could justifyth e argument that Montesquieu 's unders tanding is no t that of the regime

can only b e determined by judging that unders tanding in the hgh t of the

f o u n d i n g . 1

i S u c h inves t iga t ion suggests that th e determinist view is not an ent i re ly accurate

portrayal. T h e Federalists, in p a r t i cu l a r, demonstra te a n a tt ac h me nt to m o de rn v ir tu e



80 Interpreta t ion

In the course of t h i s attempt to avoid an aU too rigid i n t e rp re t a t i on of

Montesqu ieu and s ep ar at io n o f p o w e r s , the ne w in terpre ta t ion succeeds in

eliminating M o n te sq u ie u (m o r e prec ise ly, denying the i m p o r t a n c e of theory

in the founding of r e g i m e s ) from any serious discuss ion of pohtics in the

Amer ican regime. It s success , moreover, is qualified: it depends on the

notion that the response to circumstance or history impeUed by the

circumstance itself is the only justification of such response. Even t s or

history alone can explain pohtical action. Poh t i ca l speech is anciUary. N o w

t h i s m ay be true, b u t it could only be shown to be true by c o n s u l t i n g ,

in this case , the s pe ec he s o f th e Framers and the writings of Montesqu ieu .

Were it poss ib le , i n d ete rm i ni st terms, to say that history qu a history has a

s ing le , dominating principle, that principle would be the pr imacy of

practice as a p re co nd it io n fo r theunder s t and ing

of h u m a n action. N o n e

theless, there is a legit imate question as to the abUity of history to

describe events o r actions without the existence of prior unde r s t and ing of

th e characteristics or moral qualities of such events or actions. Thi s would

seem to suggest that, in fact, history must be preceded by phUosophy or

t h e o r y : history must be Herodo tean inquiry.

B u t that alone w ou ld s ug ge st that history consists only in th e sounding

( w h i c h will be d eve loped b e low with respect to Monte sq u i e u ) . Ine s s a y

35 P ub l iu s

demonstra tes th; essential fo rm of the problem by p re sen t i n g th e interests of

commerce an d agriculture, with the learned professions interposed, as the essential

form of the discussion about representation and. hence, the modern republic. T h e

Ant i federa l i s ts well understood the republic as the best fo rm of g o v e r n m e n t ; theyd id no t understand that it o n l y became possible in a confede ra l republic. Theynever moved m uch beyond co ns id e r i n g the usefulness of a confederal republic as

a defensive m a t t e r ; th e s a l u t a r y effects of government would all come f rom th e

v ar io us s ma ll states. T h e federat ion w ould no t b e a ne w structure h u m a n conven

t ion d r a w n f rom first conventions b u t a superstructure. This, of course, meant

that that structure w as r em ov ed b u t one s tep f rom the state of n atu re and all too

close to th e awful t r u th s of that state. Among other questions, Ant i f ede ra l i s t s

questioned whether moderate government could be installed in such a large territory

unde r s t and ing t h a t it is moderate government that secures liberty. T h e general

welfare was to be secured t h r o u g h a virtuous ci t izenry a virtue based on c o m m e ' c e ,

indeed, b u t a commerce based on agriculture still more than on manufacture. W i th

such principles, Antifederalists concluded that the o n ly poss ib i l i ty fo r liberty (and

a virtuous c i t izenry) would come through the confederal arrangement they also

called a complex consolidation. Federalists, too, p res en te d a n argument in t e r m s of

p r i n c i p l e s , including the basic principle that the phenomenon of representation isan i ndependen t g o o d , t h o u g h it is true that it m a y initially result f rom an extensive

territory. It is th e contention of th i s e s s a y that such principles did, indeed, inform

th e political decisions made by the founders . Both Federa l is ts an d Antifederal is ts

referred their principles to Montesqu ieu . If n o th i n g more, this must mean that their

principles can. to a great e x t e n t , be understood in terms of their under s t and ing of

Montesquieu. Conceding that, it should then be possible to determine whether

Montesquieu, as he understood himself, was r ight ly understood by on e or th e other,or bo th .



Theory an d Pract ice in th e Founding o f the Repub l i c 8 1

of general or t h eo r e t i c a l principles. History exists not qu a history, b u t

qu a moral possibUity. This says more than that theory m ust precede

prac t i ce ; th i s says that practice is impossible without t h e o r y. Unless,

therefore, phUosophy must be held to be commonly p rac t i c ed , there must

be another possible conclusion. Revela t ion provides one such poss ibUi ty,

yielding definitive descriptions of th e characteristics or moral qualities

of events or a ctio ns a nd thereby permit t ing the j udgmen t of such events or

actions in th e absence of inquiry. Th i s arrangement works w e U , permit t ing

history qu a history to exist fo r just so long as t h e r e occur no events or

actions that m ay be adjudged beyond th e j udgmen t of revelation or divine

legislation.

T h e problem is prefigured in Montesquieu 's L'Espr i t d es lois, a complete

unde r s t and ing of which t u r n s on an unders tanding of the last eight b o o k s

the practical books. T h e opening of book X X I V (the first of the practical

books) announces that th e author will unfold the proper manner in

which to s tudy h u m a n th ings and that he wiU demonstra te that the

possibUity of prov id ing me n "the bes t pohtical laws and the best c i v Ulaws"

is dependen t upon such study. Thi s strikes one's attention sharplybecause b o o k X X I V is entitled " T h e laws, in the relationship that theyhave with the religion in each c o u n t r y, considered in it s prac t ices , an d initself."

In th i s book, however, there wUl b e t h i n g s that are t r ue only in

"a h u m a n sense." T h e author pleads that he is no t a t h e o l o g i a n and that

he wiU s p e a k , therefore, no t of the best re l ig ion , b u t of th e best laws.

I t m ay be possible to explain the historical books, and hence the

practical books, through rigorous analysis an d close comparison of the

History o fF l o r e n c e 2

with those books . I am no t present ly capable of

making that a n a l y s i s , b u t some t h i n g s do appear at first glance that m ay

be of more than pass ing significance. E a c h author seeks to present th e

history of his regime fo r MachiaveUi, the city of Florence, an d fo r

Montesquieu, the country of France. B u t their histories are very different,ev en w here the same facts are material. T h e history of Florence moves

t h r o u g h me n ( though sometimes re luctant ly "with t h e s e idle princes and

contemptible a r m s , m y history must therefore befilled"

[I, 3, end]) ; the

history of F r a n c e moves through laws ( t hough the impac t of greatness

must be admitted under Charlemagne "l 'empire se maintint pa r la

grandeur d u chef: le prince etoit grand , I ' homme l 'etoitdavantage"

[XXXI, 18, beginning]).

Again, considering the fate of the e mp ire a fte r the death of Charle

m a g n e , M a c h ia v elli la ys the b lam e for its disintegration to the discords

a m o n g the grandsons: "th e E m p ero r C h arle s d ie d an d was succeeded byLoui s (the Pious), after whose death so m a n y disputes arose a m o n g his

sons that at th e t i m e of his grandchUdren France lost theempire"

(I, 3, end). Fortune, then, paved th e w ay for the empire's destruction as

she bred, at differing o c c a s i o n s , the forces of stren gth or of weakness.

2 N i c c o l o Machiavelli, History o f Florence ( N e w Yo r k : Colon ia l Press, 1901) .



82 Interpretation

B u t M o n te sq uie u saw the "cause principale de l ' a f f o i b h s s e m e n t de la

seconderace"

to be less th e absence of a Char lemagne to settle the d i sco rds

of Lothar, Louis, an d Charles than the changes made in the const i tu t ion

left by Char l emagne an d Pepin . H ad Charlemagne made such changes

ru in would also have foUowed. T he changes o c c u r r e d , it is true, as an

outgrowth of the Battle of F on te nay . B u t it was that port ion of th e treatywhich permitted free men to choose their seignors that b r o u g h t ruin

(XXXI, 25 , middle).

Thus it appears that the laws made by regimes maintain their force at

the expense of other possibilities and in disregard of for tune.

T h e history of Florence a history of re tu rn s and reverses t a k e s one

f rom her origins to h er current" i m b e c i l i t y ."

I t is a history into which

Machiavelli"descends"

(I, 3, end). T he history of Flo rence is of periods

specific even t s , a l l iances , and intrigues.

T h e history of France, on the other hand, t a k e s on e f rom France ' s first

constitutions to h er developed constitution. I t is a history of practices and

ordinances ("cold, dry, insipid an d hard writings [which] must be read

an d devoured as th e fable says S atu rn d ev ou re dstones"

[XXX, 10-12]).

I t is a history of laws, presented by Montesqu ieu " r a t h e r as [h e has]envisaged t h e m than as [h e has] treated

t h e m "

(XX, 1).

History, Montesqu ieu a rgues , is a particular force particular to a

civilization and t h u s to it s insti tutions(XXVIII, 23-XXX,

14). M en have

positive o r n eg ativ e effects on their laws or institutions, and change m ay

resu l t , b u t that change wou ld invariably result f rom such effec t s , howeve r

arrived ( X X X I , 18, 25, 32). F o r Montesquieu, history ca n exist only to

estabhsh continuity (XXX, 10-12) . A n d th e first step in es tabhsbing that

cont inui ty is to know perfectly o ne 's a nc ie nt laws and morals. I t is onlythrough these that events an d actions have meaning (XXX, 15). H e does

no t address th e question or place of self-interest in specific acts or events

related in h is h isto ry. Machiavel l i relates his interest entirely in t e r m s of

self-interest. If history must show cont inui ty, it would appear that in teres tmust no t be its basis. Where self-interest is absent or cont roUed, one

a s cends ; where it is present an d uncon t roUed , one descends.

I t would be unfa i r, however, to speak of Machiavelli as interested onlyin the unfolding of selfish conflicts. A discussion of th e history of conflicts

of interest necessarily points beyond itself to a discussion of the di s

interested t h i s is t r ue even if the discussion beyond only concludes that

disinterested behavior is impossible o r, at best, unreasonable. Nowhere is

t h i s better attested than in a history of in teres ted conflicts that occur in a

religious context. A s revelation is presumed to supply th e basis forquestions subject to the j udgmen t of r e l i g i o n , to discuss such questions in

t e r m s of interests is to undermine revela t ion an d thus to point beyond.

S u c h d is cu s si on is h u m a n and prepares the h u m a n judgment of th e divine.

Montesqu ieu urges that religion be judged, poli t icaUy speaking, in t e r m s

of it s conformity to la w that is, logos (XXTV, 1). Such an inquiry,therefore, argues a basis fo r history other than revelation and s u p e r i o r



Theory an d Practice in th e Founding o f th e Republ ic 83

to it . Machiavelli joins o r, indeed, has le d Montesquieu in establishingthe principle of a reasonable j udgmen t of th e church.

In the first book of th e History o f Florence, Machiavelli portrays the

Church 's influence (he says th e pope ' s , fo r he speaks of m e n , no t of lawsor institutions) in th e decline of Italy. H e demonstra tes th e absurdity of

it s policy of hiring arms to fight in its behalf and of it s attempt to extend

it s temporal d om in an ce. T h e pontiffs he holds responsible fo r nearly aU

the barbar ian inundations, each occasion of which was an instance of

pontific aggrandizement (I, 3, beginning).

A s religion in th e city must yield to la w in Montesquieu, religious

principal it ies must undergo th e s truggles of interest in Machiavell i . Further,to speak of th e ascendance of th e religious principali ty is, ipso facto, to

speak of the decline of th e city. A history which describes such an

o c c u r r e n c e , therefore, describes to th e extent that it is h u m a n a decline.

T h e actions o f men are determinants of laws and institutions, and what

separates th e history of F l or en c e f ro m th e history of France is th e fac t that

only certain men with certain interests ca n effect certain changes: "If we

only consider the evils which arise to a republic or kingdom by a change

of prince or of g o v e r n m e n t ; no t by fore ign interference, b u t by civil discord

(i n which we m ay see how even slight variations suffice to ruin the most

powerful kingdoms or States), we m ay then easily imagine how much

Italy and th e other R o m a n provinces suffered , when they no t only

changed their forms of government and pr inces , b u t also t h e i r laws,c u s t o m s , m odes of living, re l ig ion , language, and

name"

(I, 2, beginning) .

"Frequen tchanges"

of th i s nature (IV, beginning) render a history of

men necessary and in t roduce For tuna as th e Clio of that history. " I m p e r

fectlyorganized"

repubhcs require "for t h e i r welfare th e virtue and the

good fortune of some individual who m ay be removed by death or become

unserviceable bymisfortune,"

and "a g o o d , w i s e , and powerful citizenappears"

b u t seldom. A good re pu blic would have "good l aws fo r it s

basis an d good regulations" fo r enforcing t h e m . It would no t , therefore,require the wise man to balance it s contending forces. Most, if no t aU ,

histories wiU b e h is to ri es of me n and contending forces. A history of l aws

m ay be written only fo r that government which proper ly "may be caUedfree."

It would a p p e a r, therefore, that th e History o f Flo rence and the

history of France differ only in that th e one is written fo r an "imperfectlyorganized"

r epub li c and th e other fo r a perfec t ly organized republic. A n d

th e latter must be understood only in t e r m s of the claim presented fo r it :

in th e history of laws, th e laws have been presented as they were

envisaged rather than as they were t r e a t ed .

Practice, it would s e e m , m ay be i n fo rmed by theory, b u t only insofar

as it is "goodpractice"

or th e practice of th e "goodregime,"

which

decidedly is no t the divine regime. T o the extent that the practical

books of L'Espr i t des lois are informed by theory, it is likely t h a t it is th e

theory of the republic as finaUy developed in books X IX and X X . B ut if

th i s be co r r ec t , Montesquieu, in proposing that th e construction of th e



84 Interpreta t ion

good republic is d e p e n d e n t u p o n the ability to study h u m a n things

re l ig ion , laws, an d the" h i s t o r y '

of h u m a n creation prope r ly indica tes

that theory or ph i losophy m ay be born a m o n g or in the contemplation of

the imperfec t . P u t another w a y, to construct the good r e g i m e , on e must

s tudy the imperfect as if it were o r c on ta in ed the perfect (see the first eight

b o o k s of L'Espr i t des lois). T h a t th e theoretical books come before th e

practical books, therefore, ca n b e justif ied only by the fact that the

theoretical books are preceded by the truly historical books t h o s e that

treat of ancient regimes.

W h e n Montesqu ieu suggests that on e must s tudy the t h i n g s of pohtics

pol i t i caUy, he means that pohtical t h i n g s must b e given their fullest

signification (XXIV, 1) . A n d if it be true that i t is the legislator 's task

to teach an d make the laws (XXLX, 19), then the history of laws begins

with the legislator. F o r if history is truly that of h u m a n c rea t i on , it is he

who judges history, an d he wh o must b e questioned CXXVTLT, 3-4). T h u s

the practical books begin with the character of the laws and their relation

to the best r eg ime , and then discuss the legislator 's task; they conclude

with a history of the laws .

II

A n unders tanding of the A m e r i c a n founding an d the problem of

pohtical theory therein necessar i ly commences with the A m e r i c a n legis

lators. In Montesquieu 's t e r m s t h i s is to focus upon what they d id and

said as distinguished f rom the background that under l ay their actions.

A Beardian analysis is ou t of place because what background an d in teres ts

give to pohtical decisions is fully contained in the products of such

d ec is io ns . S u ch t h i n g s are , as it were, at the bo t tom. A discussion of the

compet ing interests that le d to the fateful treaty concluding the Bat t le of

Fontenay cannot obviate the necessity of dealing with the treaty and the

changes that ensued on their ow n t e r m s .

T h e problem of political theory as formulated by Montesqu ieu is

th e suggestion that what is at the bo t tom of poh ti ca l p ract ice is unmen

t ionable. T h a t private interest is glaringly present in Machiavel l i serves

to heighten it s glaring absence in Montesqu ieu . A n d there is a simUar

muteness in Montesqu ieu with respect to the coroUary of private interests:

individual rights. This position must necessarily inform a discussion of th e

Amer ican founding, wherein the founders spht on the question. AmongAntifederalist founders private interest was impor tan t b u t was no t so

obvious ly discussed. Among Federal is t founders individual rights were

impor tan t b u t were no t so obviously discussed. E a c h side is prope r ly sUent

about only half of what Montesqu ieu treats as unmentionable. In the

suggestion that th e s tudy of th e "perfectlyorganized"

repubhc is a studyof a history of laws, Montesqu ieu m a i n t a i n s , ipso facto, that th e problem

of interests hence, individual rights has been accounted fo r in a

manner transcending o r, indeed, obvia t ing the need fo r fur ther reflection.



Theory and Practice in th e Founding o f th e Republ ic 85

T h e problem in th e discussion a m o n g th e founders and in L'Espri tdes lois is set in t e r m s of a discussion of th e circumstances of th eregime. Among t h e s e th e most important, troublesome, and frequentlyrecurrent is the question of combining a republican government with an

extensive t e r r i tory. With th i s question every other issue is immediatelyconnected in a manner that makes it appear architectonic in scope

andeffect.3

This result is in agreement with the principal problem to be resolved:

th e nature of repubhcan government in th e modern world. A n extensive

territory serves to distinguish the ancients f rom the m o d e r n s , b u t it does

no t answer finaUy th e question as to the form of repubhcan government.

Montesquieu seeks to provide that answer. Federalists and Antifederalists

presented rival answers.

Though it has been differentlya rg u e d , 4 it is clear that th e founders drew

their arguments from opposing conceptions of the n at ur e a nd possibihty of

republican government. Professor Kenyon holds that th e Federalist-Anti-

federalist dispute is really a dispute about th e possible kinds of federalism.

B ut most Antifederalists agreed with "A n O ldWhig"

that the lessons of

history and phUosophy t e ach " tha t a r ep ub hc an government can exist onlyin a narrow t e r r i t o r y . " 5 Al though it is admittedly possible that on e m ayspeak of size an d circumstance in explaining federalism, problems arise

not f rom a federal correlation with extent , bu t f rom a repubhcan corre

lation with exten t.

O ne can n ei th er r ej ec t consideration of the possibUity of repubhcan

government nor t a k e it as given. T o show th e possibUity of the republic

in th e new wor ld , it is necessary to demonstra te w hy it could no t exist

in the ancient world. O ne must show th e differences between ancient and

modern histories. A s R o m e's greatness depended on curiou s circum

s tances ,6

so d id the chance fo r th e existence of the republic. In the modern

world , a U hinges on the capacity to domina te such c i r cums tance , and

giving a circumstance an architectonic role serves to detach the new

world f rom a world of architectonic principles.

Though one would seem to be deahng with polarities among the

Founders, they seem clearly to form a single p ole with respect to one

other: th e polis. I t is apparent that bo th Federalists and Antifederalists

discussed the means of establishing a r ep ub lic weU in excess of 10,000

no t to mention 5,040 c i t izens ; and they intended to do so without

exterminat ing or exUing e ve ry on e ab ov e ten years of age. The i r dispute

over size was no t that of bigger vs. s m a U e r ; it was rather that of

3 W i l li a m Allen, "Mon te squ ieu . T h e Federa l is t -Ant i federa l i s tDispute"

(Ph .D .

diss., C l a r e m o n t G r a d u a t e School, 1972) .

* Cecel ia Kenyon, T h e Antifederal is ts (N ew York : Bobbs-Merrill, 1966).

5 M o r t o n Borden, e d . , Antifederal is ts P ap e rs (E ast Lansing, Mich.: Michigan

State University Press, 1965-67), nos. 18-20.6 Montesquieu, Cons ide ra t i ons su r le s causes de la grandeur des Romains et de

leur decadence.



86 Interpreta t ion

calculation. When, therefore, Professors K e n y o n and B o r d e n suggest that

Antifederalists were animated by ancienti dea l s ,7

on e could be confused.

In both c a se s , their attempt to realize the republic is as with M o n t e s

quieu an attempt to exceed ancient l imi ta t ions .

T h e first eight books of L'Espr i t des lois develop the co ncep t of th e

ancient r e p u b l i c , and it is this that must initiaUy be set against th eFounders'

a du mb ra ti on s o f the general p rin cip le s o f the republic. With

such principles th e Founders permit a discussion of mechanisms. They are

no t so given to historical analysis as Montesquieu; he reaches a discussion

of modern possibi li ties t h r o u g h a discussion of ancient mechanisms. This

difference n ee d n ot be accounted fo r mere ly by the fact that Montesquieu 's

pohtical objective is no t so immedia t e as their own. F o r h im th e birth of

pohtical phi losophy must b e re-created. T h e r e a re , therefore, tw o republics.

T he first is found a m o n g the ancients in a c on si de ra ti on o f first t h i n g s .

T h e second is to be found in the modern world (IX, 1).

T h a t with which P u b li us b eg in s is that with which Montesqu ieu ends:

modern virtue and it s basis.Publius'

position wUl b e in dica ted below.

Initially, Montesquieu 's prescr ipt ion must be presented in order to reveal

th e hideout of private interest .

A s suggested a b o v e , th e design of L'Espr i t des lois is of impor t ance .

This design, however, would appear to point beyond the immed ia t e

purpose of th i s essay. I am capable of

developingit

onlyinsofar as

exposition of Montesquieu 's political prescription is constrained to foUow

it . I f one does not count the pre face , there appear to b e tw o main

sections of eight books each , on e m ain section of nine books, and tw o

transition sections of three books each. T h e section of nine books iscentral and is introduced by th e transition section that ends with th e

famous book containing th e chapter on the Engl ish constitution. I t is byvirtue of this relationship that that o ft -q uo te d c ha pt er is here read as

introductory rather than conclusive. Montesquieu suggests th i s as weU

through hisinterpretation

ofSocrates'

efforts in th e Republ ic .8

Montesquieu reminds the reader of th e purpose of the first eleven books

(principaUy to demonstrate ancient limitations) in the central number of

th e last eleven books: in chapter 23 he advises that " a large state (a),having become accessory to ano the r, weakens itself and even weakens th e

principals ta te . "

In footnoting th i s passage (i n par t icular, the expression

"larges ta te , "

which does no t say precisely the same thing as does th e

passage taken as a whole ) , he indicates several earlier passages that deal t

with the extent of a regime's te r r i tory. O f these citations (twelve), exactly

half are contained in the first section an d half in the second sec t ion ,

7 Kenyon, Antifederalists, Introduction; Borden, Antifederalists Papers, Intro

duct ion.

8 V, 6; XI, 6. T h e treatment of the Engl ish constitution analogous toS o c r a t e s '

t r e a t m e n t of th e Spar tan constitution should yield a statement as to Montesquieu'spurpose that is analogous to the statement as to

Socrates'

purpose.



Theory an d Pract ice in th e Founding o f th e Republ ic 87

which begins to detaU t h o s e means which th e ancient regimes could employto r emedy the i r defects an d to indicate th e first d istin ctio ns b etw een

ancients and moderns: representation and largeness. B u t th e citations

encircle t h o s e passages (IX, 1, fo r example ) which hold that a smaU

republic w iU perish unless it joins a federation.

T he passages would seem to be admonitions to the king of F r a n c e to

restrain his appetite fo r conquest were it no t for the fac t that some do

refer to the problems of r e pub l i c s , and specif icaUy (VIII, 16) indicate that

they must b e smaU. It is possible that a dual purpose is involved: th e

king of France should no t seek to establish a "universal m o n a r c h y " ; and a

discussion of th e size of states is a c on ve ni en t m ea ns of consideringancient repubhcs.

Again, th e passage to which th e footnote is attached does no t speak of

th e problem of particularstates'

exceeding th e limits of form. I t speaks

rather ofstates'

(any s ta tes ) attaching t h e m s e l v e s to other states. A n d

the c i ta t ion , to r e p e a t , is placed not at th e end of this passage where it

should be if meant to app ly only to France b u t after "largestate,"

suggesting a m ore general application. T o return th e reader to t h e s e

p a s s a g e s , therefore, is to return him to th e distinctions of ancients an d

moderns.

In the first se ctio n o f L'Espr i t des lois, it is established that t h e r eare

only t h r ee separate principles that m ay inform regimes. These are simple

pr inc ip les ; in fact, one discovers them by consult ing the "least ins t ruc tedmen"

(II, 1; III, 1). They a re , in fact, passions. Fear motivates despotism;honor a false honor motivates m o n a r c h y ; a n d , cur ious ly, th e passion

o f v ir tu e m otiv ate s th e republic. This virtue is also caUed a renunciation

of self.

Thi s formulation would suggest th e absence of reason in the establish

ment of g o v e r n m e n t s , b u t M o n tes qu ieu h as opened b is t rea t i se with the

explanation that it is indeed reason which makes ma n i ncapab le of

perfectly obeying the laws of nature and propels h im into error (I, 1;

V, 14 and preface). In other w o r d s , because h u m a n nature is more than

beastly one can expect more than the beastly. Y et if it is m o r e , it is only

so with regard to th e rational fac tor which , because of e r ro r, is seldom

prudently pursued and w h i c h , because of the need fo r intentionality, is

seldom favored by chance (V, 14).

T h e presence of intentionality in th e format ion of governments would

necessitate th e p re se nc e o f a legislator f rom the earliest moment. Montes

quieu avoids the difficulties inherent in that position by arguing the

existence of a natural desire fo r association (I, 2). This natural desire

makes accident the presiding officer over first societies. T h e point is

emphasized in th e refutation of Aristotle's history of kingship. T he

r e f u t a t i o n consists of tw o parts: paternal rule is no t th e h is to ri ca l b as is of

ru l ing (I, 3), an d paternal rule is no t th e pattern for monarchical

power (V, 8).

P a t e r n a l rule is httle more than historical a c c i d e n t an accident that is



88 In t e rp re t a t ion

ir re levant since pa te rna l rul e is most useful in that government (a r epub l i c )

where i t is least likely to appear accidentaUy ( the laws a t t e m p t to add it

there) (V, 7). Poht ica l societies begin no t a m o n g relatives l inked by their

re la t ionship but, a r c h e t y p i c a U y, a m o n gth e unrelated. P o h t i c a l p o w e r ,

under such c o n d i t i o n s , is a question of pohtical association that is, of

several families. T h e defective natural a s s o c i a t i o n , as suming that an effec

t ive s uc h a ss oc ia ti on ever e x i s t e d , would b e transformed by the addition

of pohtics. A legislator must have been pre sen t , in h o w e v e r l imited a

form, at the init ial transition. It is the fact that m o n a r c h y is in tent ional

which distinguishes it f rom despot ism.

T h e repubhc is the in tent ional form of government pa r excellence, fo r

it is based upon want ing to be a citizen. It s motive force is self-renuncia

tion a decision to be some th ing other than what on e is (III, 2, 5). T owant to b e a citizen is to want to have a c i t y, an d to want to have a city is

to want to be virtuous to love th e city. This virtue is a sent iment within

th e reach of every man. I t is no t knowledge; it is o p i n i o n , a n d , u l t im a t e l y,

a passion. A nd it is a passion which , a m o n g ancient r e p u b h c s , required

fo r it s indulgence the forgoing of other passions.

Thi s p a s s i o n , acco rd ing to Montesquieu, is a substitute fo r more

p artic ula r or indiv idual passions: it is genera l , it is pubhc. A s fewer

particular passions ca n b e sa t i s f ied , t h i s general passion is all the more

accessible. It is, in a s e n s e , created by h u m a n s as a result of the imposi t ion

of s o c i a l , re l ig ious , or political order (V, 2 ). I t s e r v e s , therefore , as a

higher or u lt ima te pass ion which undermines the effect of the ord ina ry

passions. F o r t h i s r e a s o n , Montesqu ieu ca n say that pol it ical virtue is self-

renunciation. I t is renunciation of what H o b b e s designated as our real

selves.

O f th e tw o forms of ancient republics, a ris to cr atic a nd democratic,

only the latter was perfect. I t alone could boas t that equality necessitated

by virtue (II, 2-3; V, 8). It is alone that form in which repubhcan virtue

hence, equal i ty can be perfected. In a regime that requiresself-

renunciation as fe w temptations to ordinary passions as possible should

be presented. T h a t means that the differences a m o n g m en must be

negligible. In fact, aU "inequalit ies [are to be derived] f rom the nature of

the democracy an d the principle of equalityitself"

(V, 5). Such a state

must l imit com merce an d the possibUity of gain (V, 6), since g a i n , bydefinition, cannot be contained within the f r amework of equal dis t r ibut ion .

A nd w here com merce does enter a democracy, it must be held to a

" c o m m e r c e ofeconomy"

in order to avoid the real

enemyof equality:

luxury (V, 6) . Individual happiness an d " g o o d sense" is dependen t on a

mediocrity of t a l en t s and fortunes in a republic (V, 3).

A t t h i s point Montesqu ieu speaks of th e perfection of ancient repubhcs,

taking them as they could be. T h e im p h ca tio n is that such governments

are always possible because their principles are alw ays v iable. W h a t

distinguishes the ancients f rom the moderns are different intentions or

choices , no t different possibilities. Thi s is amply demonstra ted when



Theory and Practice in th e Founding o f th e Republ ic 89

Montesquieu states t h a t most ancient peoples hved under governments

which"have"

virtue fo r their principle. T he peoples are past ; the principles

are perpetual.

These ancient repubhcs were the recipients of "s ingularinstitutions"

(IV, 5) . T h e unusual was necessary because their governments were

fo rmed to alter th e usual. ' T h e t a sk of the legislator has been that of

deahng with man's most basic and in t rans igent desires (IV, 5), an d

"singulari n s t i t u t i o n s "

are th e means to that end. "These kinds of insti tut i ons "

can b e instituted in the r epub l i c , where virtue is the pr inc ip le , bu t

only in a smaU state like th e t o w n s of Greece (IV, 6) . They require a

general education an d th e raising of all citizens as though they were aU

brothers an d sisters and mothers and fathers (IV, 6) .

But, fo r a U that, aU ancient regimes a re cor rupt ib le monarchy an d

despotism by t he i r inherent defects.9 T h e corruption is entirely a matter

of bad founding an d refounding (VIII, 12). T h a t which is defective in the

principle of the regime leads to it s decline. A s noted a b o v e , that which

corrupts the principle of the republic is luxury (VIII, 2-5). T o avoid that

danger a republic must be small (VIII, 16, 20).

Montesqu ieu closes the first section with th e apparent notion that onlyth e small republic is capable of escaping corruption. This establishes tw o

principles: that the repubhc offers th e possibUity fo r a lasting r e g i m e , b u tthat th e an cie nt r ep ub lic n ev er achieved that goal. T he second principle

is d ev elo ped in the next sec t ion , which begins with the announcement:

"If a repubhc is s m a U , it is destroyed by a foreign force; if it is large,it d e st ro y s i ts el f by an interior

vice"(IX, 1).

Montesqu ieu opens th e second s ec ti on w it h th e notion that no republic

can exist except in a federa ted form. Thi s means that a republic could

never have been considered truly viable in the fo rms heretofore examined.

In that sense , th i s is a clear break with the past , b u t in the sense that it is

an attempt to discover a "usefulmean"

fo r mak ing past virtues a part of

a viable and endur ing r eg im e , it is a modern undertaking. This contra

diction is fu r the r emphasized by th e fact that th e r e m e d y th e federated

repubhc is itself a h u m a n cons t ruc t i on , i.e., it is pu t t o g e t h e r from t h i n g s

which humans h ad made.

T he fe de ra te d repubhc is t h e n twice removed from na tu re , as nature

was understood by th e " s t a t e ofnature"

theor i s t s . T h e break with the past

is also a break with th e present: Montesqu ieu holds that th e stateonce-

removed f rom nature is inherently a state of w a r ; the republic is de s t royed

either f rom without or within. H e t h u s presents an alternative: th e conven

t ions a l r eady c re ate d o ut of an imaginary state of nature m ay be perfected.

T h e r e is in th i s a superficial resemblance to the ancient v i e w, an d it

9 I t s h o u l d also be noted that no modern counterpart is offe red fo r e i t h e r,

suggesting that the distinction between ancients an d m odern offers t h e m no

s a l v a t i o n .



90 Interpreta t ion

suggests that th e confederated republic is in t roduced more as in t roduct ion

t h a n c o n c l u s i o n , an in t roduct ion to consideration of the bes t regime.

Thi s in terpre ta t ion is suppor t ed , first, by a picture of th e federation

which

sharplydiverges from the accepted description (IX, 3). T he

"beautiful confederated repubhc" chosen as exempla r, Lycia, s e e m s , in the

description, almost h k e a single regime or administration rather than a

gather ing of independent cities. Further, t h i s section opens by extoll ing th e

virtues of th e confederal republic an d closes by extoUing th e virtues of

England . T he suggestion is that it is th e republicanism in a new setting

that warrants examination. And, were that no t e n o u g h , Montesqu ieu

focuses th e reader's attention on th e contrast between th e benef i t

accidentally der ived from confederations by th e ancients (IX, 1) and th e

necessity f o r i nte n tio n a l confederation a m o n g th e moderns.

T h e confederation described by Montesqu ieu is on e that must be

created , unlike o the r s , fo r th e specific purpose of perpetuat ing repub

licanism. I t suffe rs , therefore , certain cons t r a in t s , a m o n g them, that a U

confederates must be republics (IX, 2). T h e need fo r intentionality imposes

a need fo r control of circumstances (IX, 13). T h a t the ancients were

unintentional in this respect Montesquieu decrees, when he describes th e

"best form of government ever imagined byman."

T h a t government wa s

n eit he r a nc ie nt Spar ta nor ancient R o m e . It wa s a fo rm of monarchy

a m o n g th e barbar ian Germanic t r ibes . There, says Montesquieu, is where

th e history of intentional good government begins (XI, 8) .T he Germans began as free and democrat ic . They became several smaU

monarchies after conquest and separation. These monarchs then assembled

to deliberate on common affairs an d were t h u s representatives. Theyt e m p e r e d their rule and offered a sim ulacrum of political hber ty. In

"Aristotle 's M a n n e r ofThinking,"

one distinguishes regimes by t h i n g s of

accident: vir tue and vice. T h a t which distinguishes is th e constitution and

no t th e quahty of rule (XI, 9) . T h e weU-run government is the weU-formed

government. T h en he adds that the English system is based on the

barbarian government. F r o m the Germans it is possible to trace the origins

of th e modern English republic. A s Sparta drew her laws f rom Crete onlyto have t h e m perfected by Plato, the Enghsh laws are drawn f rom the

German t r ibes only to be perfected it is argued by Montesqu ieu (XI, 6) .

In considering ancient laws, Montesquieu begins with their establishment

and ends with t h e i r corruption. H e begins with that w hich w ou ld cor rup t

th e laws of the modern republic. T he modern sys t em, too, is pe r i shab l e ,b u t t h r o u g h mechanical defects (abrogation of separation of

p o w e r s )(XI, 6). Unlike th e ideal repubhc of Plato, whose corruption is almost

insensible, th e cause of th e decline of the English r ep ub li c c an be preciselyknown. M o r e exac t ly, it s essential character is t ic , liberty, can b e studied to

see how it might be lost, and also how it might be established. Unlike

Harrington, Montesquieu has recognized true liberty and constructs a true

state (XI, 6) . T h a t liberty consists of th e power to be vir tuous , an d that

virtue is modern (XI, 2-4) .



Theory an d Practice in th e Founding o f th e Republic 91

Montesquieu concludes th e second section by discussing England, no t as

a model b u t as th e source of that hberty, or vir tue , which animates the

modern republic. In his teaching, an unders tanding of hberty in it s several

variations foreshadows th e e merg en ce o f th e requisites of the republican

f or m . D i sc u ss io n of England serves to introduce discussion of th i s liberty,with a focus on pohtical liberty, strictly defined. W h a t fo Uo ws is a portrait

of th e repubhc. Pohtical liberty is th e necessary condition of th e civU

hberty which th e citizen exercises. I t exists , therefore, in th e constitution

(XI, 6). Its creation is as dependen t upon limiting abuses of power as it is

in granting power to do the hmited. This is accomplished by using power

to check p o w e r, that is, in the arrangement. It depends on th e legislator.

T h e citizen exercises civU hberty, and Montesqu ieu ' s central section

commences with a discussion of it . I t is defined as safe ty, or as the

opinion th e citizen holds of his safety (XII, 1-2). T h e most basic form of

safety is physical safe ty, and it is with th e body that th e bu lk of th i s section

is concerned. CivU hberty is based on private interests, and th i s fact is

best seen in it s oppos i t e , slavery th e ignoring or destruction of the

private the slave has no wUl (XV, 1, 7). Mon tesqu ieu argues that no on e

has an interest that requires slavery.

Only after a lengthy discussion of civU liberty (o r the demands of th e

body, includingthe effects of various climates an d the means employed in

providing sus t enance ) m ay consideration of th e best laws b e undertaken.

Thi s consideration begins with distinctions between laws, m o r a l s , manners,

etc. T h e principal distinction, however, is that between in ter ior an d

hence nongovernable and exterior and hence governable conduct

(XIX, 16-17, 19, 20) . Those t h i n g s attaching to th e body and it s passions

provide a surer basis fo r the formulat ion of laws. In fact, citizens w U l

more readUy be induced to do great things by t h e i r passions than byreason (XIX, 27) .

This ca n be exp l a ined , to a large ex t en t , by the fact that citizens w iU beindividualists, which ca n only mean caring fo r t h e i r private in teres ts

rather than public interests, and that their nation wiU be c o m m e r c i a l ,

"free of dest ruct iveprejudices."

Weal th an d heavy t a x e s w iU be introduced,and men of l imited for tunes wUl be indust r ious . I n d iv id u a l i nt er es ts wUl

multiply grea t ly, an d conflicts between them wiU multiply. Posit ions of

power wiU b e greatly distinguished; men wiU be less dist inguished. M en

w iU be esteemed by " rea lqualities,"

an d t hose are only t w o : wealth and

personal merit. A n d t h e r e wUl be luxury, t h o u g h based on " rea lneeds"

rather than vani ty (XIX, 27) . T h e me n in t h i s regime w iU be occupied

whoUy by their interests.

This regime wUl fur ther dist inguish itself by including all men and

basing itself on a predisposition in f avo r of reason. M en wiU reason in

e r r o r they wiU, in fact, calculate bu t it is the r e a s o n i n g , no t it s end ,

that is impor t an t . Reasoning brings hberty to a free nation (XIX, 27). I t is

the forming of opinions or calculations about one's safety that is

pa r t i cu l a r ly pro tect ive o f th e favored position of re as on and thereby of th e



92 In te rp re t a t ion

regime. A s the opinions must undergo as f r equen t and extensive changes

as private interests, th e process could be perpetual if the principle of the

regime is maintained. T o unders tand the principle of this regime one must

consider it s basis, c o m m e r c e , in terms of it s re la t ionship to the t h r ee

possible principles.

I t is of note that th e b o o k which develops the "freenation"

is foUowed

by the b o o k which develops commerce in a "freenation,"

he f ina l b o o k

of the central section. B u t no mention of principle is made in the former.

In the f ina l chapter of the b o o k on a f ree n a t i o n , th e word" r e p u b h c "

does no t occur. Since it is advertised as fur ther treatment of the regime

treated in b o o k XI, where" repubhc"

is used twenty-eight t i m e s (seven in

chapter 6), t h i s omission is aU the more striking: th e word" repubhc"

is

absent inthe on e chapter

inwhich

itappears that the character of the

republic is to be most fuUy developed. It is stUl more surprising because

Montesqu ieu suggests a correlation be tween his" r e p u b h c "

and that of

Plato.10Having substituted bis fo r that of Plato, he then drops the r e p u b h c

and it s pr inciple altogether.

This paradox is solved in tw o ways. First, the free nation of b o o k XIX,

chapter 27, is indeed a repubhc. This is clear f rom the foUowing book,which demons t r a t e s that the commerce descr ibed in this chapter is only

possible in a repubhc a n d , u l t im a t e l y, in a m od er n r ep u bh c (XX, 3-4, 9,

12, 23). Why, then, was it necessary to avoid mention of th e republic inth e chapter that most openly speaks of the pursuit of priva te pas sion and

it s place in the regime? T h e re sp on se p ro vi de s th e s econd solut ion.

A re turn to th e ancient republic o r , more s p e c i f i c a l l y, to what remains

of it, once it has been cor rec ted ,11

suggests th e solution. W h a t remains is

the attachment to the regime, Vamour de pa t r i e , without the actual

necessity fo r self-renunciation. T h a t singular pas s ion , v i r t ue , is no longer

exclusive of ah the other passions. Indeed, exceUence is now based on

1 0 Bk. V . This correlation helped to explain the posit ion of a r i s t o c r ac y in his

scheme: a r i s t o c r ac y is pe r fec t o n l y as it approaches democracy, the true republic,

since the tw o ar e clear ly different regimes. T h e difference be tween th e tw o strongly

resembles th e difference be tween the Repub l i c an d it s r e su l t an t a r i s t o c r a c y after

it has been corrupted. Thi s is Aris tot le ' s criticism ofSocra tes '

presentation: the

reason fo r th e corruption is u n c l e a r ; we d o no t see th e one state becoming the

other, as in all the other examples. T o the ex ten t that th e corrupted version of the

ideal state is just that, there must be a principle of movement be tween t h e m w hi ch

demonstra tes th i s c o m i n g into b ein g. M o n te sq uie u accounts fo r t h e s e factors by

denominating the tw o regimes as examples of the republic, an d demonstrating h o w

th e more corrupted version can b e perfected. I f it ca n be perfected, th i s process

ca n o n l y move in th e direc t ion of being more republican. T h a t which it approaches,

t h en , must be m os t r ep ub lic an . Mo nt e sq u i e u removes the o bscu r i t y of Socrates;t h e n he allows th e republic to disappear altogether.

11 If , in the modern world, th e republic loses it s size (smallness), it fo l lows that it

loses the corollaries of that size i.e., singular institutions such as th e communi ty

of g o o d s , c o n st an t a tt e nt io n of each citizen toward e v e r y other citizen, etc.



Theory an d Pract ice in the Founding o f the Republ ic 93

t h e m . B u t t hose very passions upon which the regim e m us t be based are

most effective no t when consciously reflected upon (men wiU reason in

e r ro r ) b u t when subhmated to the exe rc is e o f sovereignty (a s indeed theywere s u b h m a t e d , fo r differing r e a sons , among th e ancients).

A pohtics of th e beastly must no t be beastly politics: th i s would seem the

true gloss on th e statement that a free people can be led by t he i r

passions to great things even against their t r ue in te re sts. T h is assertion

can be t r ue only if the fact that me n are acting on the basis of interest is

no t disclosed to t h e m . The i r interests must be operative b u t unmentionable.

L ' a m o u r de patrie m ay only b e I 'amour propre b u t it m ust sound l ike

Vamour de patrie.

W h e n the discussion tu rn s to interestp r o p e r ,

th e"republic"

cannot be

men t ione d , although th i s is the t r ue unders tanding of it s pr inc ip le , virtue

and hence equality. I t is only h is equali ty w hich p erm its ancient an d

modern republics to bea r the sam e n am e. Equality is, however, imper fec t

in the on e and perfect in the o t he r ; that which unites th e tw o also divides

t h e m . T h e ancient republic grants equali ty to aU c i t i z e n s ; the modern

r ep ub li c g ra nt s citizenship to ah. This necessitates differing standards of

j u d g m e n t in t h e s e contrasting r e g i m e s , as indicated by the fact t h a t the

ancient cit izenship is constructive while the modern is receptive. M o d e r n

cit izenship thereby conveys t h o s e unmentionable rights the coroUaries of

interest whUe ancient cit izenship provides the occasion fo r greatness to

t h o s e who can or would be great. There in lies the mean ing of Aris to t le ' s

defense of the natural s l a v e ; therein hes the mean ing of Montesqu ieu ' s

assertion that Aristotle p roves no th ing.

FinaUy, the effort Montesqu ieu makes to heighten the differences

betw een bo ok s X IX and X X (the final b oo ks of the central sec t ion)

suggests that they must b e read together if on e is to appreciate t h o s e

differences. T h e in tr od u ctio n to the fo rmer explained that it s subject was

of great ex t en t ; the latter is deemed to b e l imited. In the metaphors of each

i n t roduc t ion contrasts also appear: in book XIX, Montesqu ieu moves he

moves to th e r i g h t , s l ides, pierces , an d makes light; in book XX, he is

moved " I want to flow on a t ranquU r iver, carried along by th et o r r e n t . "

In the one he is c r ea t i ve ; in the other he is a h isto ria n. W h a t b o o k X IX

brings into open discussion is hidden again in b o o k X X .

B o o k X X once again speaks of v i r t u e , of modern v i r t u e ,"humanite,"

and

of th e fac t that it s place is in the modern repubhc . I t speaks less of in teres t

or pa s s ion , except to show it s connection with "exac tjustice"

in the

c om m e rc ia l r ep ub li c. In sho r t , Montesqu ieu retakes the high g r o u n d ,

dissociating his regime f rom br igandage on the one hand an d " those

m o r a l

virtues"hat induce men to renounce self-interest on the other.

Commerce, h e s a y s , cor rupt s pure morals b u t it perfects barbar ian morals.

I t is a civUizing influence, curing the dest ruct ive p re ju di ce s o f pure morals

an d bringing gent le morals. It is t h i s cou r se , a course of prudent m o d e r n i t y,

which h e extols. T h e modern r e p u b h c , in sho r t , must encou rage acqui si

t iveness, b u t what i t must praise is th e p e a c e f u l n e s s , civi l i ty, gentility



9 4 In te rp re t a t ion

hum anite fo r which it is responsible. B o o k s X IX an d X X differ so

greatly only because they go together.

T o sa y that commerce is the necessary condition of th e modern

repubhc obscures the issue of the nature of the confederal repubhc

mentioned above. B u t i t is th e under s t and ing of the necessity fo r a

confederal repubhc e l imina t ing , as it does, a state of wa r which permits

th e discussion of a modern repubhc and it s necessary c o n d i t i o n , commerce.

A confederation of repubhcs based on " those moralvirtues"

wiU no t do.

T h e only noncommercial repubhc of consequence to have ever existed

perished from the very moment at which it tried to survive without plying

the arts of a warrior state. R o m e faUed to provide it s citizens with that

which Montesqu ieu says must be assured: s u b s i s t e n c e , food, comfortable

clo th ing , and a heal thful w ay of hfe (XXIII, 19).

T he confede ra l r epubhc established must have a separation of powers

to avoid tyranny, since only t h i s sepa ra ti on can bring a b o u t the multiplici ty

of interests essential to the republic's virtue. A regime based on majo r i t y

rule cannot include more than the major i ty in the exercise of sovere ignty

(a pursuit of interests) unless it denies to the major i ty the right to govern

totaUy or what is the same thing to ho ld power.

Only the commercial repubhc is capable of becoming the public-

interest state. That, then, is the basis of the confede ra l r epubhc . It was a

response to th e i nne r weakness of the la rge repubhc and the exterior

weakness of th e smaU republic. From it s initial cons ide r a t i on , M o n t e s q u ie u

moves to consideration of th e repubhc of singular insti tutions and of the

commercial repubhc. Legislators, he indicates, create singular ins t i tu t ions

in smaU repubhcs to compensate fo r what they lack in commercial

possibilities insofar as p ro visio n m us t be made fo r the general welfare

(XX, 3, 23; II, 2; V, 3-4, 6) .

T h e le gis la to r's purpose is to create happiness inside the city whUe

mainta in ing sufficient exterior power to be secure. T h a t purpose is served

by the combination of a confederal and a commercial republic. T h u s the

turn awa y f rom the ancient city is complete, if we understand the

happ ines s of which Aristotle speaks to consist in virtuous activity. T h e

happiness provided by the legislator of prudent moderni ty concerns itself

with such activity understood as th e Epicurean goal of satisfaction. Such

a legislator engages in the construct ion of ord ina ry insti tutions dedicated

to the singular purpose of peacefulness. Ultimately, the new virtue is

merely th e love of p e a c e , and the good city knowns no o th er good life.

Ill

T h e Antifederalists, in the elaboration of their p r i n c i p l e s , cited M o n t e s

quieu as their authority. B u t in th e areas of principal c o n c e r n , with a fe w

e x cep t i ons , they arrived at opposite conclusions. Each, fo r e x a m p l e , argues

the necessity of commerce fo r establishing the best regime. Montesquieu,however, describes that commerce as one of e c o n o m y, based on man-



Theory and Pract ice in the Founding o f th e Republ ic 95

ufactures an d t r ade . W h a t is offered by the Antifederalists is on e of

sufficiency, based on agriculture. T h u s th e equal i ty of theAnti federa l i s ts '

regime is no t th e same as Montesquieu 's description of th e best city.

I t is the equality o f y eom an farmers, uncluttered by notions of redistribu

tion of income and o th er industrial offshoots.

SimUarly, theA n t i f e d e r a l i s t s '

pos i t ion , which argues that government is

to lead the vicious to vir tue , faUs to t a k e account of Montesqu ieu ' s

reference to virtue and vice as accidental mat t e r s , outside of th e funda

mental discussion of politics. Government, in Montesquieu 's terms, is no t

created for th e repression of vice. H e does n ot r ej ec t the natural la w thesis

upon which the Antifederalists base t h e i r posi t ion , b u t he denies that the

moral distinctions to which i t gives rise are th e necessary basis of political

judgments.

I t is n o t , therefore, anomalous that th e free people of book X IX wiU

be led by their passions rather t h a n their reason. The i r love fo r the state

is first lowered to a passion and only thereby raised to a virtue. T he good

regime w iU no t repress or punish vice ; it w U l manipulate it in such m a n n e r

that it is useful to th e state. This m ay b e what Montesquieu means when

he says that the laws suppose citizens to be good.

A s to the necessity of r ep re sen t a t i on , th e Antifederalists agreed with

Montesquieu. They considered it an essential e lem en t o f salutary govern

ment. B u t representation must be o p e n , and it s essential foundat ion is

equality. And, finally, it s proper manifestation is as true a representation

of classes as possible. Given such representa t ion, th e Antifederalists

believed that th e danger of th e development of separate interests be tween

ruler and ruled could b e avoided. B ut with respect to the r e p u b l i c ,

Montesquieu states that the positions of power w U l become greatly

distinguished as a direct result of th e effect of comm erce and th e extreme

proliferation of interests. A n d it is th i s effect that is guaranteed by and

guarantees the equality of th e regime. Montesquieu argues that the regime

is maintained by th e arrangement of offices. B u t this does no t mean th e

arrangement of classes in t e r m s of render ing them distinct and the

direct representation of interests. H is republic caUs fo r a confounding of

classes. Thi s is stUl, it m ay be a rgued , an arrangement. T h e point is

conceded , b u t on e notes that i t is no t th e arrangement sought by the

Antifederalists.

T he F ed era lists are more often to be found in agreement with

Montesquieu,though

occas ionaUy disagreeingon matters of significance.

Initially, their abUity to appreciate the defining characteristics of the

regime's circumstances laid th e fo un datio n for t h i s agreement. In it s

absolute form, Montesquieu 's dictum with respect to territory le d the

Federalists, prope r ly, to decide that government would be impossible;hence the in tent of Montesqu ieu must have been direc ted to something

less damaging fo r th e prospect of h u m a n affairs. They reasoned that th e

principle of representation ameliorated th i s difficulty.



96 Interpreta t ion

Thi s conclusion was reached through consideration of the fundamen ta l

q ue stio n o f g o v e r n i n g , no t of it s ex t en t , b u t of it s nature. W h e n Montes

quieu states as a general rule that small states must be r e p u b h c a n ,

mediocre s ta tes , m o n a r c h i c , e tc . , he seems only to be saying that one can

discover it s essential nature in it s classical locus. W h e n he says that a

smaU repubhc is dest royed f rom w i t h o u t , e tc . , h e is sugges t ing that the

durability of th e repubhc cannot depend on recrea t ing the classical locus.

In other w o r d s , a change in th e nature of repubhcan government to remove

it s handicaps removes the s trictu res o f size as weU as it s fundamen ta l

incapacity. T h e F ed eralists concluded with Montesqu ieu that under a

system in which the people held all powers "all would belost."

This

constitutes their parting glance at ancient democracies . Tiny agricultural

repubhcsuni t ing

the citizens in single b od ie s fo r the management of affairs

were rejected as t y r a n n i c a l . In fact, so long as the people hold th e

g re ate r p ow er of legislating, they are the holders of aU the powers of

government. This is w hy th e legislative power is seen as greatest.

Although it is true that a people m ay commit t h e m s e l v e s to th e hands of

governors because of an extensive territory, th e Federal is ts held such

action to be an independent good. I t remains only to ad duce th e basis of

a regim e so constituted.

Montesquieu 's view of th e negociant and the poht ical officer as

natural allies and th eFederalists'

view of the manner in which compro

mises an d coalitions of interests form the stuff of republican pohtics

combine in a concept of pohtical knowledge as reflected in interested

behavio r. T h e attempt to buUd homogeneity through a proliferation of

interests, t he r e fo re , unites the theories of Montesquieu and Publius.

Pubhus argues that the Amer ican states w iU become more hke each

o the r, no t because aU wUl be reduced to a common denomina to r b u t

because a U w U l be raised to an equal level of interested behavior.

M o n tes qu ieu h olds that a general

mediocr i tywUl exist wherein the

poorest must work to surv ive , the richest to conserve. T h e multiplication

of interests w U l serve to attach a U to the general interest . I t is, at bottom,t h i s t r a d e and finance that must be instituted if the representat ion is to

be effective.

T he Antifederalists appear to have fully appreciated th e modern

predisposition to provide fo r the body, b u t they approach that task more

directly than either Montesqu ieu or Pu bhus. T he ir caU for a wider

representation specif icaUy, fo r representation of the middle c lass , though

it is o ften aim ed at aU or most"interests"

is based on the assumption

that th e protection of equality and individual rights must be an open

affair. This m ay require the acknowledgment that men have private

interests, b u t that is part of the bargain. Reminding me n of their rights

is no t viewed as reminding t h em of their passions. In that s e n s e , the

regime is no t to be protected by noble hes or wise m e n ; it is to be

protected by it s motive force, equah ty as der ived from natural law.



Theory an d Practice in the Founding o f the Republ ic 97

Indeed, government exists specificaUy to enforce whatever limits t h e r e

are to th e pursuit of happiness.

T h e F ed era lis ts reasoned in t e r m s of satisfying private interests, an d

they were no t ashamed of discussing the place that interests occupy inh u m a n affairs. Y et they were re lu ctan t to discuss the fact that the

establishment o f g ove rnm en t on the basis of interest vests a right in

citizens to pursue their passions. They posited th e fact of such behav io r

as the occasion fo r instituting government b ut discreetly treated govern

ment as exist ing independent of such behavior. T he confounding of

classes that was created t r e a t ed equahty as the elimination of distinctions

between rich and poor wlhle creating the distinction of interests. A s no t

all interests can be equa l , th e multiplici ty of interests represents an

inequali ty. Y et that inequality exists only between specific interests and is

d raw n fro m th e regime's equahty itself. I t is t h i s inequality created byequah ty that renders necessary a sUence as to rights: th i s is so because

it is impossible fo r government to enforce , equal ly, every l imit on the

pursuit of happiness .

T h a t Federal is ts and Antifederalists must jointly b e considered the

Founder s of Amer ica t h u s uni t ing t h e i r contrary positions is appro

priate. To g e t h e r they present a complete in terpre ta t ion of the regime.

With respect to that about which one should b e mute in founding an d

mainta in ing r e g i m e s , they either foUow an d are proper ly silent or re jec t ,

on th e basis of an older p r u d e n c e , the prudent modern i ty of Montesqu ieu .

W h e t h e r o ne accepts the one or the other is dependen t upon th e extent

to which th e problem of pohtical theory is seen to be embodied in the

Amer ican founding.

If virtue is the answer to th e problem of the possibUity of modern

repubhcan g o v e r n m e n t , if t h i s virtue consists of that exceUence particular

to th e p urs uit of private interests, understood as love of one's coun t ry or

whatever makes such exceUence poss ib le , if an extensive commerce is the

basis of such a cons t i t u t i on , then Montesqu ieu ' s dictum that small

repubhcs suffer an incurable defect and large republics a curable defect

is readUy understood. A constitution can prudent ly control the form and

nature of that to which it alone applies. T h e virtue of a republic's citizens

can no t b e a g ua ra nte e of the virtue of t h o s e of it s neighboring regimes.

Smal l repubhcs are prey to conques t , and this, says Montesquieu, is

incurable . Large republics can , of c o u r s e , provide fo r t h e i r defense if theyare sufficiently virtuous to avoid th e in te rn al d efe ct of dissension. Theycan only b e t h u s virtuous in a commercial r epub l i c , identifying their

virtue with their immedia t e interests. T h e publ ic- interest s ta te speaks no t

to the i n t e r e s t the citizens hold in th e city, b u t to th e interest the pubhc

nurtures in the citizen.



98

I N T E L L E C T U A L B I O G R A P H Y

A S A F O R M O F T H E H I S T O RY O F I D E A S

Robert R . Orr

T o write books about other people's books (for this is roughly what

inteUectual biography amounts to), ca n it ever b e more t h a n an acceptable

form of parasitism at best a retail ing of goods from a manufacturer's

w a r e h o u s e , at worst an attempt to seU some th ing which is already avaUable

fo r free?

I propose to address the question: what contr ibut ion to our under

s tanding can we r ea sonab ly expect f rom s o m e b o d y wh o undertakes to

give an accoun t of how some noteworthy w riter c am e to think as he did?

T h e enterprise itself is a recent one. A century a g o , when biography and

p an eg yr ic w er e barely distinguishable, it was considered scarce ly proper

to ask how so-and-so developed or changed his ideas. N o w a d a y s there is

no lack of books which center their attention upon t h i s specific question.

W e have L e o n Tr o y a t on Tolstoy; G . J. Wa r n o c k on Wittgenstein; Peter

M u n z on Hooker; Pe te r B r o w n on St. Augustine; Shirley Letwin (i n

T h e Pursu i t o f Certainty) on Hume, Ben tham, J. S. Mill, and Beatr iceWebb; Gertrude Himmel fa rb on Darwin and Acton . O f these, the last-

named m i g h t , indeed, b e called a professional intellectual biographer.

T h e expression "intellectualbiography"

suggests th e hfe of a m i n d ,

and thereby something less than a complete life; there is a b r i d g e m e n t ,

abs t r a c t i on , restriction. Less is said about the lively subject than might

be said. It is, of c ou r se , true that a U biography, w hether or no t it avows

a l imited range of v i s i o n , must be something more than a comprehensive

catalogue of events threaded on to a t ime sequence. A n exhaustive

compendium of h u m a n responses between the margins of birth and death

m ay b e conce ivab l e , b u t if one were ever to be found it would no more

b e biography than chronicle co uld ever b e history.

I f we look at the genera l , apparently unqua l i f i ed , biographies, we find

they are c o m m o n l y bui l t around some theme, or some phase represented

as the high point of th e story; how h e became a mi l l i ona i r e , prime

m i n i s te r, or the founder of th e Salvation Army. Somet imes there is more

than one theme; the ca ree r, domestic life, favorite diversions, or the ups

and downs of h is church membership. Some general biographies might be

caUed an account no t of one life b u t of severa l , which happen to converge

in one lifetime, which is itself a mere physical ju nc tio n . M i c h ae l Hol royd ' s

Ly t ton Strachey composes a literary ca ree r, a social s a g a , a sex life, an d

some p ure n at ur al history. Ivone Kirkpatrick on Mussol in i is an essay on

tw o simple t h e m e s : a political career and a domest ic life. Julian Symons

gives us in a s tudy of his bro the r A. J. A . Symons a bibliophile, a social

c l imbe r, a g a s t r o n o m e , a biographer, and a coUector of knick-knacks.






th e most p a r t , sophis t ica ted utterers wUl be dealers in w o r d s , in shor t ,

writers.

W e m ay note in pass ing that sophisticated utterance, or inteUectual

w o r k , is more precise than " m e n t a lwork,"

b u t less definite than, fo r

instance, p h U o s o p h y, mathematics, or pohtical thought. T h e adjective

"intellectual,"

indeed, holds a place in the scale of conceptual definit ion

comparable to that of" m o r a l . "

M o r a l relationships are a specific kind

of h u m a n r e l a t i onsh ip , b u t they are less definite than par t icular relation

ships of mutual obhgation l ike those be tween doc to r an d pa t i en t , landlord

an d tenant, teacher an d pupU.

Soph i s t i c a t ed u t t e r a n c e , then, is more than idle thoughts. I t is s p e e c h ,

w r i t i n g , g e s t u r e , ah organized into statements which are designed to be

m u tua Uy r e i n f o r c i n g , that is to s a y, argumentative. T h e inteUectual,we

m ay say, is one who cons tant ly feels a need to ad d to what he h as already

said. H e wiU try to be ready with another s ta tement to but t ress the first,

a n d , if asked a g a i n , wiU obhge again , or try to . H e is chronically

s e l f - c o n s c i o u s , living ou t h is h fe in the shadow of anticipated supplemen

tary que s t i ons , doing his best to answer them before they are asked.

H is d isc ou rse h as to be a rg u m e n t a t i v e , and he is l iable to find it diff icult

to put a stop to the p ro ces s, o r, indeed, to speak in an y other fash ion .

N ow we know a considerable var ie ty of such w r i t i n g , b u t fo r ou r purpose

it m ay be helpful to distinguish tw o types, which I shaU ca l l , adapt ing

Aristotle 's terminology, the fo rma l and the substantial.

F o r m a l arguments are complete in t h emse lve s , which never invite query

as to their point or t he i r justif ication. They say aU that needs to be said

in order to make their sense. Mathemat i ca l theorems and phUosophical

arguments leave nothing unsaid which is needed to make th e discourse

co mp lete a nd intelligible. O n e need never ask the point of a Euc l idean

proof , or of Aristotle 's classification of t he anc ient polis into six exhaustive

an d

mutuaUyexclusive t y p e s . T h e d is clo su re within the argument is total,

and such argum ents are self-terminating. They cannot be "se t t led ou t

ofcourt."

Substant ia l a rg um en ts a re pieces of reasoning intended to make sense

o f, to justify, or to bring about a result which is no t part o f, an d cannot

be pu t into, the argument itself. They have an activating occasion and a

subsequent outcome in t e r m s of which the reasoning itself b e c o m e s

comprehensible. If initial occasion an d anticipated outcome disappear,so does the argument. Poht ica l arguments and legal proceedings are of

th i s kind. They can hve only as long as they are no t dropped, or settled

ou t of court. In 1971 the Wilberforce tribunal in Bri ta in concerned i tself

with settling upon a fair rate of p ay fo r electrici ty employees. T h e

argument was properly confined to questions of differentials, comparable

wages in comparable jobs, product iv i ty sca les , and the like. W h a t was no t

mentioned in the proceedings was that the argument was the result of a

s t r ike , and took place u nder the threat of fur ther strike action. These were



Intellectual Biography as a F o r m o f the History o f Ideas 101

th e circumstances which gave the argument it s beginning an d it s e n d ,

which made it intelligible, b u t were no t t h e m s e l v e s a part of it .

T h u s intellectual practice is argumentative in t h e s e tw o ways. A n d the

credo of inteUectualism is a belief that th e boundar ies of argument should

b e extended as fa r as poss ib le , that it be le t loose into th e whole tide of

life. T h e besetting sin of the inteUectual, the e x c e s s , the folie d e g r a n d e u r

of which he is always on the brink, is the refusal to recognize any l imits

at aU , to see the whole of hfe as ideaUy to be translated into the compass

of discourse. H e is occupat ionaUy vulnerable to th e belief that, with

sufficient industry and a c u m e n , you ca n press every h u m a n w i s h , every

impulse, onto the discursive field of battle, a field on which f inal victories

ar e to be w o n , where vic tory consists in pre-empt ing aU possible

responses. Yo u r vanquished opponents are given a grace-and-favor lease

hold o n c on dit io n that they end aU verbal res is tance . T h e refusal to keepthis kind of dicourse in it s place betrays, pe rhaps , an inabuity to

distinguish between fo rma l a rgumen t s , which have a total an d self- just ifying

qual i ty, a nd s ub sta ntial o n e s , whose ultimate justif ication lies outside

themselves. T h e ideal society of the complete intel lectual is one w here the

talk of t h i s kind never stops and where nothing else ever s ta r t s , o r, if it

s ta r t s , it owes its life entirely to the permission of argument.

N o w the man we ca n caU an inteUectual has th i s skiU, b u t we need to

know m o r e , because it can b e turned in different directions. I t can set

itself onto problems in formal logic or arguments fo r and against

c o e d u c a t i o n , or it can engage in the weird casuistry w hic h s ur ro un ds p ea ce

t a l k s . If a ma n writes exclusively about one of t h e s e matters we usual ly

caU h im s imply a logician, an educational theorist, or an author i ty in

strategic studies. A n d biographies and autob iographies will reflect such

speciahsm. W e shah find books an d theses entitled T he Philosophy o f

B e r t r a n d Russell, T he E d u c at io n a l I d ea s o f Cyri l Burt, and T he Pol i t ica l

T h o u g h to f Henry

Kissinger.If, however,

he does no t specialize b u t

writes in aU three, and perhaps in addition finds writ ing a novel no t

beyond him, together with some books o n m arria ge an d m o r a l s , we m ay

r est c on te nt to caU h im an inteUectual, mean ing , s i m p l y, that his capaci tyfo r organized thought is generous ly employed. H e is a general practitioner

of the discursive art. T he id eal intellectual is a citizen of th e whole

systematic world. A t the end of his biography it seems that he has left

no territory unvisited. Such a ma n m a y, of cou r se , have one love, one

corner of the world which he caUs his home, where he is recognized to

b e resident expert. F o r RusseU this was mathematics. O r he m ay benomadic, p a s s i n g , as Arthur Koest ler has done, from sex manuals to

c a p i t a l p u n i s h m e n t , to the history of s c i e n c e , to Eas te rn m y s t i c i s m ,

to the Thirty Years War, with no permanent roots in one or th e other.

M o s t in te l lec tua ls restrict t h e i r t rave ls somewhat. T h e history of that

d ive r se body of letters caUed political t h o u g h t displays a line of such

t ravelers , wh o h av e divided then t rudgings between the flat plains of

pol i t ica l an d mora l r ecommenda tion and th e high peaks of theology and



102 Interpreta t ion

phUosophy. In r ec en t ye ars some have roamed the l ower slopes of eco

nomic t h e o r y, seeking there a heavenly model fo r an ear th ly city.

Such, then, is the activity of the inteUectual . H o w is this mind to be

accorded biographica l treatment? Biography, if it is a genuinely historical

undertaking, turns on the recognition of change and movement. T he

biographer ' s task wiU be to perceive and render intel l igible the shifts and

alterations in a man's life. A s a h is to ria n h e has a n a dv an ta ge no t shared

by m a n y of h is c o U e a g u e s ; he has c h o s e n , in biography, a field of s tudy

whose outer limits are made fo r h im. T h e termini of the genera l ,

unspecified biography are th e life and dea th of th e subject. Those of th e

inteUectual biography are the beginning an d th e end of a working hfe,from the moment when the subject first puts pen to p a p e r to his last

pub l i c a t i o n , including, if you ar e lucky enough to find t hem, so me u sab le

unpublished manuscripts which nobody else has noticed.

A t an y rate you have a body of finished w o r k , and whatever falls

outside it belongs to another s tory, that of posthumous inf luence or

reputation. T h e r e are almost as m a n y books on"machiavelhanism,"

which faU into this c lass , as there are on Machiavelli, whUe Lawrence

Bongie ' s s tudy of H u m e ' s thought has a lengthy t a U p i e c e on what later

writers made of H u m e . A prologue of w riters who aUegedly influenced

your subjec t , of c o u r s e , faUs within the biography itself, since it t eUs

entirely of what he made of t h e m . Pe te r M u n z ' s s tudy of H o o k e r is in

fact constructed entirely in this w a y, with chapters on the use which

H o o k e r made of Plato, Aristotle, St. Thomas, and Marsilius of Padua .

Thi s asset of having h m ite d b ou nd arie s within which to work is,

however, about the only sohd advantage which the in teUectua l or any

other b iog raphe r m ay caU his own. There is a daunting catalogue of

difficulties, an d of t h e s e the central o n e , and it is as old as BosweU, is that

y o u , th e biographer, are enter ing inescapably into competition with your

chosen subjec t , a competition in which you are very hkely to be worsted.

He, th e s u b j e c t , has u sed w ord s as precise ins t ruments of the imaginat ion .

C an y o u , the recorder of h is labors, do less? H e has already said plenty

about himself, an d you are presuming to add, without s u p e r e r o g a t i o n , to a

fo rmidab le corpus. Y o u make yourself as vulnerable as Heske th Pearson

knew himself to be in writing about WUde an d Shaw. InteUectuals are

those whose work is in a sense their ow n inteUectual a u t o b i o g r a p h y, and

you are trying to improve upon what is already creditable.

Ph i losophe r s present th e greatest chaUenge to th e biographer, since it is

th e essence of phUosophy to strive fo r total t r ansp i cuous self-explanation.

Plhlosophers provide t h e i r o wn s kep tic is m a nd their own c o m m e n t a r y, and

those wh o write about t h e i r work ing lives usuaUy have to rest con ten t , like

Diogenes Laertius, with a n a cc ou nt of th e lifetime of th e m a n , an elliptical

presentation of his doctrines, and perhaps some potted criticisms. Some

times, it is true, the b iographe r m ay detect and set ou t to explain an

apparent mutation in a philosopher's thinking. G . J . Warnock records the



Intellectual Biography as a Form o f th e History o f Ideas 103

long-recognized hiatus between Wittgenstein's Tracta tus and the Inves t iga

tions, an d t r i es to set forth an under ly ing consistency.

Less chaUenging b u t stiU rewarding subjects are pohtical scribblers who

employ generalized reasoning to support t h e i r causes. Such writers often

show changes of m i n d , or of front, and you m ay try to plot t h e s e

alterations of course. T he most r eward ing subjects of aU are those

gentlemen of letters who write at different levels of abs t r ac t i on , whose

thinking te n ds to slip from one level to ano the r, now engaging in fo rma l

ana lys i s , now in sharply seasoned polemics and apology. J o h n Locke,whose work has always t e a sed commentators with it s supposed i ncohe r

e n c e s , offered excellent material to M a urice C ran sto n. Montaigne,Machiavelli, and Pascal, a U moralistic writers with a penchant fo r

p h U o s o p h y, have provided simUar opportunity.

Whethe r one a ccepts the big chaUenge of writing about a philosopher

or th e lesser one of trying to detect in te l lec tua l system in a rumbustious

pohtical wr i t e r, th e question on e faces is what can b e added to an al ready

highly articu late p ie ce o f self-declaration? I suggest thatbiographers'

contributions m ay be classified exhaustively into fou r t y p e s . T h e t y p e s a r e ,

of c o u r se , abs t rac t , and an y actual inteUectual biography wUl often be

found to contain elements of more than one. In order of ascending

complexity they are phasing the s tory ; detecting themes in it; account ing

fo r change within a single major t h e m e ; an d trying to relate one theme, or

interest, to others.

First, and most m o d e s t , yo u m ay detect phases in the life's work of

your sub j ec t , making seams in the hitherto seamless robe of t i m e and

thereby giving structure an d l ine to what would otherwise b e mere

commentary. Geoffrey Faber 's book on Ben jamin Jowet t presents three

phases in the s tory, which h e calls"Apprenticeship," "Ascendancy,"

and

"Decl ine an d FaU of aReputation."

This is a simple enough formula, a

slightlyelaborate version of the even simpler on e of

beginning,midd le ,

and end. Faber ' s w o r k , by carrying us past Jowett 's death, might be called

the story of a career plus posthumous reputat ion. T h e focus is upon the

Master of Balhol ' s career rather than upon changes in his ideas, and is

t hus hardly a"pure"

inteUectual biography.

Second, you m ay be a httle more ambitious and sort the story ou t into

t h e m e s . In Ger t rude Himmelfarb 's book on Lord Acton, change and

movement are virtuaUy restricted to th e first and last chapters. T h e rest

of th e b o o k is thematically organ ized under headings l ik e " C o n fl ic ts with

th ePapacy,"

" L i b e r a lPohtics,"

and "Wri t ings on

Liberty."

T h e co n

tribution, which stays close to it s sou rce s , is that of c lass i fca t ion , or

reclassification. Miss Himmel fa rb knows that she is no t inventing th e

themes; they are th e declared interests of Acton himself. In th e preface

she admits to giving only a " textualanalysis"

of a prolific wr i t e r, and

de fends th e procedure by point ing to th e dange r s of" o v e r i n t e l l e c t u a l i z i n g , "

that is, of at t r ibut ing to a writer a level of t h o u g h t to which he never

aspired or which he never attained.




Peter QuenneU, writing on Ruskin, hkewi se shapes the story into

themes, denoted by chapters headed "Opin ions of an A rtCritic,"

" In f lu

ence of a SocialReformer, "

and "LiteraryD e v e l o p m e n t . "

A s with Miss

Himmei fa rb ' s Acton, t h e r e is no attempt to locate a master in teres t or

central concern in the subject's work. QuenneU claims only to have

attempted " a balanced portrait."h e b o o k stays close to the sources, bu t

gives shape to th e m .

This w ay of writing is no t easy. I t is beset, h k e aU historical wri t ing ,

with the bugbea r of preserving chronological movement while analyzingthe t h e m e s . A s soon as a theme is explored to any depth, the t i m e

sequence suffers disruption. B i og ra p he rs h a ve employed various t e c h n i q u e s

to keep the tw o in some kind of balance. Michae l Holroyd, in his Lyt ton

Strachey,employs flashbacks and f la sh -f or w ar ds . I v o ne Kirkpatr ick keeps

h is M u ss olin i mov ing steadUy forward save fo r one static chapter which

analyzes th e character of h is subject. Elie Halevy on Bentham (in T he

Growth o f Phi losophic Radicalism) an d Maur ice Cowling on J . S. MU1

present critical studies of inteUectual p os itio ns a ss um ed to be more or

less fixed.

T h e third contribution is to record and account fo r a change of mind

or behef in on e of the interests usually identified as the central one

of th e chosen inteUectual. H e m a y, of c o u r s e , have given an account of

th i s himself, b u t th i s wUl rank as only one piece of evidence, and initiaUysuspect evidence at that, to be t e s t ed against o th er evidence. Char les

Darwin, in his later yea r s , said that the idea of the mutation of species

by natural selection wa s germinating in his mind whUe aboard the"Beagle,"

yet Miss Himmelfarb, going through the" B e a g l e "

diaries and

Darwin, in his la ter yea r s , said that the idea of th e mutation of species

which apparent ly remained in tac t t h r o u g h o u t the v o y a g e , foUowed shortlyafterwards by a blinding inspirational period. F or the historian of ideas the

mature relections of a writer on h is own work are never to be taken

at face value.

O v e r t changes of m ind like those of Darwin give th e biographer some

thing fairly definite to fix upon. M u c h more elusive to t r a ce are shifts of

interests or failing e n g a g e m e n t , since your subject m ay be inarticulate,re t icent , or even ignorant of t h e s e . Pe te r Munz, writing on Hooker, was

faced with the question of how Hooker, having marshaled aU the T h o m i s t

a rgumen ts about the mutual complementarity of the orders of nature an d

g race , of the regnum and the sace rdo tum, c a m e , in th e last three booksof h is great w o r k , to fall into a MarsUian strain of argument which

stressed the priority of civU peace and therefore of the civil order over

th e ecclesiastical. M u n z accounts fo r the change f rom within Hooker,referring to th e political commission to defend th e Settlement f rom which

the great apologist started. H e h a d begun with th e firm conviction that the

Acts of Supremacy and Uniformity could be represented in Thomist terms,w ith grace supplementing, no t supplant ing , na tu re , an d church and civil

government harmoniously cooperat ing under a monarch and Supreme



Intellectual Biography as a F o r m o f th e History o f Ideas 10 5

Governor united in one person. By the t i m e he had reached b o o k VI,however, his growing an d painful awareness of the realities of T u d o r

practice had undermined his abUity to use Thomis t categories with con

f idence. H e t h e n t u r n e d to MarsUius fo r general ized arguments more

appropriate to the situation he saw before him.

Here, then, is an account of a change in a writer's d ir ec tio n d ra w n no t

from extraneous sources b u t f rom th e record itself. T h e evidence is ent i re ly

internal, and relates the collapse of the fo rma l argument to the subject's

changed view of the substantial circumstances which first set his pen to

paper. M u n z points to later passages of H o o k e r which betoken disUlusion-

ment and in fact adduces Hooker ' s growing uneasiness about th e coherence

of his work as a hypothesis to explain his faUure to finish writ ing it .

This t h e m e of dis iUusionment is a f r equen t motif of intellectual biogr a p h y and points sharply to a major difficulty of keeping to the"life-of-the-mind"

brief. In wri t ing of intellectuals you are examin ing the

doings of super-civUized people w ho se w ho le life represents an e n g a g e m e n t

to self-knowledge. B u t their passion fo r cons is tency often makes them

reticent or even determinedly unaware of then changes of m i n d , an d in

exploring t h e s e the biographer is treading the outer reaches of the mind

itself, where th e inteUectual and the affective life meet and merge. I f one

foUowsany

account of a writer's change of

front,abandonment of an

a rg u m e n t , or switch in style of a p o l o g y, on e encounters words l ike"disappointment"

an d"disiUusionment"

and phrases about realizing the

incompatibUity of something with something else or references to a growing

sense of ineffectiveness. T h e language of sensibUity invades the story of

an argum ent. C. R . Leslie, sett ing ou t to draw th e mind of Constable,observes that in C o ns ta ble 's case the invasion is near- to ta l , since " the

affections of the hear t were inseparably b lended with all that related

topainting."

Mrs. Letwin, in T h e Pursu i t o f Certainty, acknowledges an emotive

component in the thinking of H u m e an d of J . S. Mill . In a chap ter ent it led

"The PhUosophica l Enthus i a smRenounced"

she shows that H u m e ' s

increasing feeling fo r th e complexi ty of every th ing undermined his energy

fo r ph i lo s o p hy, that his"sentiments"

turned him t o w a r d s history an d

e ss ay w r it in g as more suitable media fo r thinking on p ap er ab ou t politics.

O n MiU, she notes that the friendship with Harr i e t Tay lo r was fo l lowed

by a new in teres t in " the souls ofmen"

as weU as in the m a c h i n e r y

of government. Accounting fo r a change of m i n d , front, or commitment

to a central interest, therefore, is a third w ay of shap ing an in te l lec tua l

b iog raphy. In complex i ty it outdistances th e phas ing of a story or it s

classification into more or less self-contained themes.

T h e four th an d most intricate contribution the b iographe r can make is

to connect the diverse in teres ts of his subject to find, if he c a n , a uni fy ing

principle which wiU bind the whole corpus t o g e t h e r. H e is challenged by,an d must respond to , a many-sided mind. If wri t ing of a p h U o s o p h e r ,

h e wiU search fo r an even more comprehensive master idea than h is




subject used in order to improve th e coherence. J. W . N . Watk ins joinsHobbes '

conception of the method proper to phUosophy with his pohtical

thought to demons t r a t e a total " sys t em ofideas."

A r n o l d Kaufmann, in

h is b o o k on Nietzsche, reargues the old behef that " the wUl topower."

no t a the i sm , is the cen te rp iece o f Nietzsche 's thinking.

Thi s impulse to find consistency is no t l imi ted to those who write

about philosophers. C. R . Leshe discloses a single mind of Constable,

based on the paintings an d on letters, some of which refer to the

paintings. L e o n Tr o y a t takes Tols toy 's novels an d matches them with the

diaries in order to determine h ow fa r the novels are autobiographical.

I rene Coltman, in P riv ate M e n and Publ ic Causes, sets the literary interests

and th e pohtical commitments of some seven teen th -cen tu ry E n g l i s h m e n of

moderate Roya l i s t persuasion alongside eacho t h e r ;

the point of conver

gence is a demonstra t ion that t h e se in teUectua ls were indecis ive ditherers

in pohtics. Russell, in h is le ctu re s in the 1890s, tried to unify Leibniz ' s

tw o major interests, theology an d metaphysics. H e argued that Leibniz ' s

theory that the essence of matter is no t extension met a d e m a n d fo r a

theory of the Euchar i s t as weU as the requirements of fo rma l logic, citing

as evidence the open per turbat ion suffered by Le ibn iz on discovering that

b eh ef in a v ac uu m c on fli cte d w it h th e theological principles of cont inui ty

and plenitude. RusseU repeated t h i s procedure of connec t ing phUosophical

with extraphUosophical interests in h is History o f W es te rn Philosophy,which cou ld be styled a history of Weste rn in te l lec tua l i sm.

Whateve r subject he c h o o s e s , th e biographer who foUows th i s four th

manner of writing needs to detect an d match u p at least tw o dis t inc t

interests of the mind before him, to strive to connect t hem, without,

however, forcing upon h is subject a contrived an d total consistency.

Whicheve r of the fou r methods is a d o p t e d , the whole a rg um en t m us t take

account of chan ge and must contrive to say some th ing which the subject

has no t al ready said fo r himself.

Perhaps the most inviting pitfaU in the biographer ' s track is to write

about himself, an d t h e r e are tw o ways of doing th i s . T h e more obvious

w ay is to use his chosen subject as target practice fo r his ow n behefs and

preferences. K. R . Popper ' s studies of Plato an d H e g e l and Maur ice

Cowling 's of J. S. MU1 te U more of their authors than of their subjects.

In bo th cases there is visible a l uminous passion to d iscred it. T h e less

obvious method is to use the subject as a sympathetic vehicle on which

the b iographe r m ay load his own p r e o c c u p a t i o n s , wor r i e s , even obsess ions.

Tolstoy, th e would-be philosopher who made do as a novel i s t , the fo x who

would fo r preference have been a hedgehog, h as inspired at leas t one

writer to tra ns la te his ow n career into an in terpreta t ion of Tol s toy ' s

inteUectual life. T h e inteUectual biographer, more than an y other wr i t e r,

frequently offers the bargain of tw o hves fo r th e price of one.



107

AT H E I S T I C F R E E D O M A N D T H E I N T E R N AT I O N A L S O C I E T Y

F O R T H E S U P P R E S S I O N O F S AVA G E C U S T O M S :

A N IN TE R P R E T A TIO N O F C O N R A D ' S

H E A R T O FD A R K N E S S *

Harry N e u m a n n

In Plato's R e pu b lic S ocra tes denounces poets who unearth hidden

passions which his utopia wishes to s u p p r e s s . 1

By publicizing in terd ic ted

crav ings , t h e s e inteUectuals undermine publicspiritedness. Unlike ordinary

cit izens, t h e i r attachment to the prevail ing mora l i t y is no t jeopardized

once they discern the skeletons in it s closet. Instead, they champion it s

forbidden or illicit side. T h u s their fight with u n s o p h i s t i c a t e d , old-fashioned

morah ty is a famUy quarrel be tween the same morality's noble and it s

repulsive forms. Indeed th e inteUectuals seem more loya l than others to

that m o r a l i t y, since they, unlike pious c i t i z e n s , embrace it s u g l y, repeUent

fo rms .2

PhUosophers, however, take t h e i r insight into th e questionable founda

t ions of the regnant mora l i t y as grounds fo r doubting it s worth. Unlike

old-fashioned c i t i z e n s , they do no t shun those questions b u t believe that

inteUectuals should question the value of th e shocking side of the

predominant or thodoxy instead of defending it against suppression bytraditional faith and morals. From a phUosophical s t andpo in t , both

inteUectuals an d t rad i t iona l i s t s are defenders of th e prevail ing or thodoxies .

T h e plulosopher's belief in his ignorance of the true value of th e orthodox

m o r a h t y is responsible fo r h is neutrali ty in th e wa r be tween it s

t r ad i t i ona l i s t and it s sophisticated defenders. Depending on c i r c u m s t a n c e s ,

he supports on e or another of t h e s e war r ingcamps.3

In H e a r t o f Darkness, Conrad or his Mar low are no t phUosophers b u t

intellectuals in the sense just defined. O n their horizon, the affirmation

of Western morality's illicit unde rg round present s itself as a triumph of

wisdom an d ethics, fa r more noble than it s puritanical repression or

* This article wa s assisted by a research fellowship f rom th e E a r h a r t F o u n d e . t i o n .

1 Al lan Bloom, T h e Repub l i c o f Pl a to (New York, 1968), pp. 433-34.

2 M ax Weber, "Science as aVocation,"

in F r o m M ax Weber, trans. H . H . G a r t h

an d C . Wr i g h t Mil ls (Ne w York, 1958), pp. 147-48: "W e realize today that something

can be sacred no t only in spite of it s no t being beautiful, b u t rather because an d in

so fa r as it is no t beaut i fu l . Y o u will f ind th i s d o c u m e n t e d in the f i f ty- th i rd c h a p t e r

of the book of Isa iah an d in th e twenty-first psalm. And, since Nietzsche, we realize

that something can be beautiful, no t o n l y in spite of th e aspect in which it is no t

g o o d , b u t rather in that v e ry aspect. Y o u will f ind th i s expressed earlier in the

Fleu r s du Mai, as B aud e l a i r e n a m e d his volume of poems. I t is today commonplace

to observe that s o m e t h i n g m a y b e t r u e although it is no t beaut i fu l an d no t holyan d no t good. Indeed it m a y be true in prec ise ly those

respects."

3 Harry Neumann, "Is Philosophy Stil lPossible?"

T h e Thomist, X X X V I (1972),

pp. 5 4 5 - 6 5 .



10 8 In t e rp re t a t ion

"tepidskepticism"

about it s value (pp. 7 2 - 7 3 ) . 4

By "W es te rnmorahty"

I mean the authoritative ethics in governments which derive their right to

govern f rom the consent of th e governed. Thi s def in i t ion inc ludes a U

i m p o r t a n t modern r e g i m e s , Naz i as weU as C o m m u n i s t an d l iberal

democratic. N o less than Jefferson or Lenin, Hit ler insisted that his rule

was legit imized by the consent or wUl of th e people (Vo lk ) . Consequentlyh e (like his C o m m u n i s t and democra t i c opponents) ridiculed the Japanese

theocracy as unenlightened sup e r s t i t i on , fo r there the people existed fo r

th e sake of their divine e m p e r o r , whose legitimacy was no t d e p e n d e n t

upon their cons en t ; in fact, his wiU or consent wa s responsible fo r

their legit imacy.

Weste rn contempt fo r Japanese theocracy arose f rom the behef that

individuals should not be subject to moral authorities which they do no t

freely choose to accept. Legi t imate acceptance depends solely upon

indiv idual c h o i c e , no t u p o n some natural or divine compulsion which

precludes free consent. In th i s p a p e r , moralities d e p e n d e n t fo r their

acceptance upon that f reedom are called atheistic. Athe i sm t h u s under

stood need no t deny the existence of gods or moral standards. T h e

crucial point is the atheist's ins is tence that h is reason or wUl is not

governed by standards whose au tho r i ty he is not at liberty to reject.

I suggest that a th ei sm s pr in gs f rom the opinion that the indiv idual ' s

reason should emancipate itself from them o r a h t y

authoritative in his

regime. O n c e e m a n c i p a t e d , h e can strive fo r an impar t i a l e va lu at io n p er

mit t ing him to accept or re ject that moral i ty on it s ow n merits. However,the belief that m en should attempt th i s emancipation is itself q u e s t i o n a b l e . 5

Cons ide r Genes is (2 :16-17) . I f it s value is no t demonstrable, the fa ith in

it s worth arises from an atheistic assertion of wiU and no t from impar t ia l

insight. T h a t self-assertion is th e hal lmark of what t h i s paper calls atheism.

F o r a the is t s , belief in the existence of divine or natural standards is

subordinate to an unwillingness to recognize an y author i ty which denies

the right of self-determination. Atheists m ay believe in g o d s , b u t no t ingods which preclude this

r i g h t . 0

Atheism, the crime fo r which Socrates was e x e c u t e d , emerged with

Greek phi losophy or science. O f cou r se , it appears as atheism only to men

skeptical of that philosophy's claims to demons t r a t e th e justice of rational

emancipation from th e gods of one's city. This paper assumes never

forgetting that it is an assumption that atheistic self-assertion and no t

impar t ia l reason have i n fo rmed European or Western civilization since it s

birth in Socra tes or some other G reek. M r. Kurtz, the hero (o r an t i - he ro )

4 Joseph Conrad. H e a r t of Darkness, ed. R . Kimbrough . rev. N o r t o n crit. ed.

(New York , 1971). A ll references are to th i s edition.

5 Neumann, "Is Philosophy StillPossible?"

8 L eo Strauss, T h e Pol i t ica l Philosophy of H o b b e s (Chicago, 1952), pp. 99-100;L eo St-auss, N a t u r a l R igh t an d History (Chicago, 19521. p. 92; Harry V . Jaffa, " T h e

Case against Pol i t ica lTheory,"

Equality an d Liberty ( N e w York, 1965), pp. 220-29.



Atheistic Freedom 109

of H e a r t o f Darkness, is that civUization's moral t r i u m p h : "A U E u r o p e

contributed to th e making ofKurtz"

(p . 50).

Marlow, the narrator of H e a r t o f Darkness, begins his description of

Kurtz with a discussion of a pre-atheistic r e g i m e , th e R o m e which

conquered Britain (p. 6). H e contrasts R o m a n exploitation of Bri t i sh

savages with European im p eria hsm in A fric a. T h e fundamen ta l difference

is the regnant moral i ty of the tw o civUizations. Since th e R o m a n ' s ultimate

moral author i t ies , h is g o d s , were concerned solely with Rome ' s happiness,R o m a n consciences experienced no qualm s about ruthless e xp lo it at io n o f

foreigners: indeed, R o m a n civic piety encouraged it . O n such an horizon,

loving one's enemies appears atheistic. However, modern or atheistic

moral i ty is concerned with th e right to s el f-det ermina ti on o f individuals

which are believed to b e moraUy i ndependen t of any communal bonds .

Indeed, t h e s e bonds are in terpre ted as th e free creations of mora l ly

autonomous individuals. T h u s atheists justify support fo r democratic,Communist, or Fascis t regimes by appealing to m ora l co ncerns com mon

to a U l iberated individuals. Consequently, their moral exhortations ar e

universa l ; they tend to stress common h u m a n goods an d no t the self-

aggrandizement to which in fac t atheistic moral i ty does subordinate all

commongoods .7

M a rlo w k now s that any atheistic r e g i m e , whether imperial ist ic or anti-

imperialistic, needs th e siren song of lofty ideas to enlist support fo r it s

crusades: "A n idea at the back of it . . . and a n u ns el fi sh belief in the

idea something you ca n set u p , an d bow down before, and offer a

sacrificeto "

(p . 7). In a variant r e a d i n g , he envies R o m a n s the narrow

civic piety responsible fo r their lack of concern with such p r o p a g a n d a ,

t hose "prettyfictions"

designed by atheists to seduce others into their hea r t

of darkness (p . 7). H is revulsion at the "phi lanthropic pretense of the

wholeconcern"

(p . 25) causes h is respect fo r Kurtz's abandonment of

that pretense.

T h e relation between atheism's pretty fictions an d Kurtz's f inal night

mare resembles that be tween the loftiness of his original report to the

ISSSC (the In t e rna t iona l Society fo r the Suppress ion of Savage Customs)an d his later subscriptum to it:

H e began with the argument that we w h i t e s , f rom the point of development we h a d

arrived a t, " m u s t n e c e s s a r i l y appear to them [savages] in the nature of supe rna tu ra l

beings we approach them with the might as of adeity,''

and so o n , an d so on.

"By th e simple exercise of ou r will we can exert a power fo r good p r a c t i c a l l yunbounded,"e tc . , etc. F r o m that

pointhe

soared an d took me with h i m . T h e

peroration wa s magnificent, though difficult to remember, yo u k n o w. I t gave me

th e notion of an exotic Immensity ruled by an august Benevolence . It made me

t ing le with enthusiasm. . . . T h e r e were no practical hints to in ter rupt the magic

current of phrases, unless a kind of note at th e foo t of the last p a g e , scrawled

e v i d e n t l y much la te r in an u n s t e a d y hand, m a y be regarded as the exposition of a

t M a r t in Heidegger, Ni e t z s che (Pfullingen, 1961), II , p. 198 .



110 In t e rp re t a t ion

method. I t wa s v e r y simple, an d at the en d of that m o v i n g appea l to e v e r y altruistic

sent iment it blazed at you, l u m i n o u s and terrifying, l ike a f lash of lightning in a

s er en e sky: "Ex te rmina te all thebrutes!"

[p . 51] .

M r. Kur tz here reveals the atheism informing Weste rncivilization's

pretty f ict ions. In the a bs en ce of that revelation, men s to rming barr icades

in the name of t h o s e f ict ions appear to b e "emis sa r i e s of hgh t . . . wean ing

i gnoran t millions f rom their horr id ways . . . emissaries of pity an d science

an d progress. ... W e want fo r the guidance of the cause entrusted to us

by Europe, so to s p e a k , h ighe r intelligence, wide s y m p a t h i e s , a singleness

ofpurpose"

(pp. 12, 25-26) . T h e ISSSC's claim to these lofty qualities

( excep t fo r it s obvious singleness ofp u r p o s e ) 8 is atheistic propaganda

in tended to devalue the "horr idways"

of pre-atheistic regimes such as

the ancient R o m a n s or Afr i can tribes, fo r those regimes preclude atheistic

hbera t ion since then tribal or civic pie ty does no t permit it s devotees

to experience themselves as free to reject it s divine authority. F r e e d o m of

choice has no place in tribal or civic pie ty fo r which only feUow citizens

wh o share that piety count. T h u s the pious R o m a n s who ruthlessly

exploited Bri ta in perceived t h e m s e l v e s pr imarUy as R o m a n s an d only

s e c o n d a r i l y, if at al l , as h u m a n beings . In their e y e s , only s l a v e s , men

w ith ou t a tribal or civic religion of their own, were pr imar i ly h u m a n beings .

A n c i e n t citizens pious ly traced their written an d unwri t ten laws back

to lawgivers who were gods or received their l aws f rom gods. Consequently

they saw themselves no t as autonomous indiv iduals b u t as subordinate to

their sacred families an d cities. E m a n c i p a t i o n from those bonds was

inconceivable to t h e m . Only a the ists w ou ld claim such f r eedom. Onlygods who permitted or encouraged atheism would create men capable

of it . F o r such g o d s , a man's free acceptance or rejection of their

author i ty is the prerequisite to truepie ty.9

They prefer free atheistic

r eje ctio n o f their author i ty to th e denia l made by civic pie ty that citizens

are at liberty to reject it s authority. T h u s both atheists and the gods who

8 E d m u n d Burke, Burke ' s Politics, ed. J. H o f f m a n an d P . L ev ack (Ne w York,

1949), p. 4 6 6 : " In the French Revo lu t ion . . . the philosophers h ad one p r e d o m i n a n t

object which they pursued with a f ana t i ca l fury: that is, the utter ex t i rpa t ion of

religion. T o that e v e r y question of empire was subord ina t e . They had rather

d o m i n e e r in a parish of atheists than rule over a Chr i s t i an world. T h e i r temporal

ambition was w h o l l y subservient to their p r o s e l y t i z i n g spirit, in which they were no t

exceeded by M a h o m e thimself."

Milton, Parad i se Lost, I, 2 5 4 - 6 3 : " T h e mind is it s

ow n p l a c e , an d in itse lf / C an make a heaven of a hell, a hell of h e a v e n . / W h a t

matter where, if I be still th e name, / A n d where I should be , all b u t less than he

/ W h o m thunder h a t h made greater? here at leas t / W e shall be free;th'

Almightyha th no t bui l t / H e r e fo r his e n v y, will no t dr ive us he nce . / H e r e we m a y reign

s e c u r e , an d in m y choice / T o reign is worth a m b i t i o n , t h o u g h in hel l / Better to

reign in hell, than serve inheaven."

0 Harry Neumann, "M i l ton ' s A d a m an d D o s t o y e v s k y ' s G r a n d Inquis i tor on th e

Prob lem of F r e e d o m beforeGod."

T h e Personalist , X LV I I I (1967), pp. 317-27 .



Atheistic Freedom 11 1

are possible in atheistic regimes would subscribe to th e ISSSC's revulsion

at th e "horr idways"

of tribal and civic piety.

Freedom, and specificaUy inteUectual freedom, is atheism's core. W h a t

one does with one's freedom whether one supports democratic, a n a r c h i s t ,Communist, or Fascis t regimes is less important th a n its adamant

determination to undermine th e behef in moral authorities which preclude

atheistic hberty. Western propaganda glorifies this freedom, encouragingone to overlook it s bestial forms. M en acquainted with C o m m u n i s t an d

Fascist terror hardly need Kurtz's Africa to discover atheistic f r eedom' s

hear t of darkness . Y et w hy condemn any us e of freedom, includingHitler 's and Stalin's, if that f r eedom itself, and no t it s products or it s

justifications, is th e ultimate court of appeals? Should no t atheists despise

such condemnations as relapses into a now-discredited past governed byt r i ba l and civic superstition?

Does no t fear of punishment or disgrace preclude fuU atheistic use of

one's freedom, preventing th e unleashing of th e lusts forbidden by unen

l ightened t as tes?

T h e joy of killing . . . an d w h y not? T he mind of man is capable of a n y t h i n g

because e v e r y t h i n g is in it, all th e past as well as all th e future . W h a t is t h e r e after

all? Joy, fear, s o r r o w, devotion, a p a t h y, v a l o r, rage . . . you c a n ' t understand. H ow

could you? with solid pavement u nde r you r feet, surrounded by kind neighbors

r e a d y to cheer yo u or to fall on y o u , s t e p p i n g delicately between the bu tche r an d

th e p o l i c e m a n , in holy terror of scandal and gallows an d lunatic asylums ....T h e s e little things make all the difference [pp. 36-37, 50].

F o r Conrad, the more the respect fo r non-atheistic morah ty declines,th e more a thei st ic hcence comes in to its own. Kur tz in Africa, fa r from

accustomed res t ra in ts , found that " there was nothing on earth to prevent

h im f rom killing whom he joUy wellpleased"

(p . 57). T h e sohtude of the

wUderness uncovered the abyss of f reedom within his atheism. H ad he

never come to Africa, he might have been fooled by the altruistic

propaganda glorifying martyrdom fo r the sake of h u m a n self-determina

tion, th e rights of man. In comment ing upon the heads which Kur tz h ad

impaled on stakes around h is house, Mar low notes that

they o n l y showed that M r. K u r t z lacked res t ra in t in th e gratification of his various

lusts. . . . whether he k n ew of this deficiency h ims e l f I can't say. . . . B u t the

wilderness h ad fou nd h im ou t early. ... I think it h ad whispered to h im t h i n g s

about himself which h e d id no t know, t h i n g s of which he h a d no conception t i l l he

took counsel with th i s great solitude an d th e whisper h ad proved irresistiblyfasc inat ing. I t echoed loudly within h im because h e was hol low at the core

[pp. 58-59] .

M r. Kurtz came to regard the whole unive rs e as his proper ty to be dealt

with at his pleasure:

Y o u should have hea rd h im s a y, "M y ivory, m y intended, m y s t a t i o n , m y r iver,

m y everything b e l ong ed to h im . . . b u t that was a t r i f l e . T he thing was to know

what he be lon ge d to , ho w m a n y powers of darkness claimed h im fo r t h e i r own.

T h a t wa s th e reflection that m ad e y ou c r e e p y all over [p. 49].




Mar low considers M r. Kurtz ' s atheism i n h u m a n unless moderated byin ternal checks (pp. 22, 26-27, 32-34, 42 , 49-50, 58-59, 67-69). H ow

eve r, no rational basis fo r checks exists if morality's true ground is hbertyunfettered

byprior restraints. Consequently, Mar low believes it for tunate

that most advocat es of f reedom as the ground of virtue faU to comprehend

their commitment's abyss. " T h e i nne r truth is hidden luckily,luckily"

(p . 34). Aw a r e of th i s p r o b l e m , a Platonic clerk who glorifies the ISSSC's

messianic zeal never theless refuses to practice what he preaches: " I am no t

such a fool as I look, quoth Plato to hisdisciples"

(p . I I ) .10 Mar low ' s

aversion to lies (p . 27) is moderated by h is refusal to deprive Kurtz ' s

fiancee of th e Ulusion which ennobles h er life: "bowing m y head before

the faith that was in her, before that g re at a nd saving Ulusion which shone

withan unea r th ly

glowin

thetriumphant darkness

f rom which I could

no t have defen ded her. . . from which I could no t even defendmyself"

(p . 77) .

Mar low ' s " t r iumphan tdarkness"

is no t s e l f - s u b s i s t e n t ; it arises f rom the

a th eis tic r ef us al to acknowledge an y moral authorities which would

preclude unbridled self-indulgence. If t h o s e authorities are na tu ra l , then

atheism is an unnatural effort to conquer n a t u r e , a rebeUion against

nature. In that c a s e , atheism degrades what is naturaUy experienced as

good to the level of edifying lies. Y et the charge that it is contrary to

nature rests upon th e assumption that unchecked self-determination isunnatural. T h u s bo th atheism and the c as e a ga in st it seem to spring from

unproved opinions w h i c h , if accepted as true, b e c o m e n ob le o r ignoble lies.

Fai th in the truth of what atheism despises as pretty fictions is the

remnant of pre-atheistic tribal or civic piety in regimes dedicated to the

destruction of that piety. S uch fa ith almost invariably faUs to discern it s

conflict with the liberty which it claims to justify. F o r atheistic f r eedom

justifies anything from inteUectual emancipation to cann iba l i sm , f rom

Socrates an d Jesus to Lenin and H itler. M r. Kur t z finaUy comprehends

what readers of H e a r t o f Darkness usual ly faU to grasp. F a r f rom beingin co nflict w ith th e ISSSC's lofty endorsement of h u m a n freedom, his

cannibalism is it s moral t r i u m p h . In his"extremist"

pursuit of liberty(p . 74), Kur t z p ra ct ic es w ha t the ISSSC preaches.

Dostoyevsky's G r a n d Inquis i tor rightly notes that m ost people abhor

the c on se qu en ce s o f a th ei st ic f r eedom and censures Jesus fo r founding a

religion dependent fo r it s acceptance on man's freed om . T o the Inquis i tor

an d the dying Kur tz religions of t h i s sort seem i n h u m a n . Probably fo r

simUar r e a s o n s , Taci tus characterizes Christians as haters of mankind

(Anna l s 15:44). Kur tz bo th embraces his f reedom an d revues it . Since

some of his passions especially t h o s e which formed h im prior to his

African o d yssey were not fully a the is t ic , they opposed the boundless

f reedom of atheism. T h u s Mar low "saw the inconceivable mys te ry of a

soul that knew no res t ra in t , no faith, and no fear, ye t struggling blindly

10 C f. L eo Strauss, Though t s on M a c h i a v e l li (Glencoe, 111., 1958), p. 327, n. 287.



Atheistic Freedom 113

withitself"

(p . 68). Appea l s to Kurtz ' s less atheistic passions were

frustrated by th e strength of his newly acqu ir ed a thei st ic crav ings , an d no

appeal in th e name of atheism 's altruistic f ict ions could carry much

weight:

T h e a w a k e n i n g of forgotten an d bruta l instincts . . . h ad beguiled his unlawful soul

beyond the bounds of permitted aspirations.. . . I h ad to do with a being to whom

I could no t appeal in th e name of a n y t h i n g high or l o w. I h ad to invoke h im

himself h is own exalted an d i nc re d ib le d e g ra d at io n . T h e r e was n o t h i n g either

above him or below h im. ... H e h ad kicked himself loose of th e earth, of e v e r y

restraint [p. 67].

O n M a rlo w's horizon, Kurtz ' s last words ( "The h orro r! T he horror!")were sparked

bytrue self-knowledge.

Furthermore,Mar low discerns

moral greatness in t h e m :

H e h ad summed u p h e h ad judged. " T h ehorror!" ... it h ad th e appal l ing face of

a glimpsed truth that strange c o m m i n g l i n g of des i re an d ha t e . ... I t wa s an

a ff i rma t i on , a moral vic tory paid fo r by i nnumerab le defeats, by abominable

terrors, by abominable satisfactions. B u t it was a victory. T h a t is w h y I have

remained loyal to K u r t z to th e las t [p . 72].

If morality's essence is f reedom and no t o b e d i e n c e , Kurtz's last words

m ay weU signify moral victory. F ew have been so alive to atheism's

capacity to u p r o o t men f rom aU earthly t i e s . Atheism's hegemony is

responsible fo r what Heidegge r caUs homesickness (Heimweh), the pain

of thatr o o t l e s s n e s s . 11 Thi s pain becomes global as Western moral i ty

discredits th e last remnants of tribal an d civic piety. A t best, t h o s e

remnants are l umped together with th e ennobl ing Ulusion which Mar low

encouraged in Kurtz ' s fiancee. A t w o r s t , they are sco rn ed or patronized

as"disadvantaged," "deprived,"

or"backword"

peoples. Mar low discerns

only "supersti t ion . . . some kind of primitivehonor"

in the restraint

preventing some hungry cannibals f rom devouring h im (p . 42). In terpre ta

t ions of this so rt spring from the opinion that atheistic self-determination

is the true ground of morality. AU powerful con tempora ry regim es sub

scribe to th is op in ion , although only Marxists officially recognize the

atheism informing Weste rn civil izat ion since it s origin in Greek thought.

If Conrad agrees with Marlow's ascription of self-knowledge and moral

t r i u m p h to the dying Kurtz, he thereby shows his Greek or atheistic

prejudice. T o be sure , traditionalists attached to atheism's pret ty fictions

m ay censure Conrad ' s g lo ri fi ca ti on o f Kurtz jus t as Socra tes condemned

poets wh o exposed the lack of

nobUityin his Utopia's noble lies. However,

denuncia t ion of K urtz in the name of man's right to self-determination

misses the po in t , if Kur t z is th e perfect embodiment of that right. T he real

question is no t whether Kur tz misused h is f reedom b ut whether that

1 1 M ar t in Heidegger, M ar t in Hei de gg e r zu m 80. Geburtstag von seiner Heimat-

stadt Messk i r ch (F rankfu r t am Main, 1969); L eo Strauss, "Philosophy as Rig o r ous

Science an d P o l i t i c a lPhilosophy,"

Interpretation, II (1971), p. 5.




freedom, however used , is good. T o comprehend th i s ques t i on , one must

pay serious attention to the strongest case against that f r eedom. O ne must

leave regimes whose main struggle is between old-fashioned defense of

atheism's pretty fictions and sophisticated glorification of it s hideous

depths and em bark on historical studies centering around th e conflict

between Socrates and bis Athen ian accusers. In pa r t i cu l a r, one must

strive to free one's m in d o f ath eistic prejudice if grasp of th e worth of the

accusation of th e Athen ians is to emerge.

Socrates'

accusers perceived the atheistic implications of the phUosoph-

ical devaluat ion of non-atheis tic pious attachment to noble or ignoble hes

and unenlightened prejudices impeding h u m a n f r eedom. T he question of

the Tightness of th e condemnation of Socra t ic atheism by pious Athenians

remains the question of Western civilization. T h a t civil izat ion emerged

with Greek t h o u g h t an d culminated in what Mar low calls Kurtz ' s moral

victory. So long as Weste rn man's question remains ques t i onab l e , th e

issue should no t be prejudiced in fav o r of Socrates or Kurtz, fo r Plato ' s

Socrates is to Conrad 's Kur tz as atheism's noble exterior is to it s hear t of

darkness. Is no t skepticism the proper response to both atheism's Socra t ic

and it s Kurtzian forms, h o w ev er d if fic ult such d e t a c h m e n t m ay be fo r

W es te rn moral t as tes? Probably philosophers strive to embrace this

skept ic i sm, while intellectuals such as Mar low an d Kur tz shun it s tepidity

(p . 71). Perhaps something of th i s phUosophical effort is impl ied by the

Platonic clerk 's p raise of the ISSSC's business at a distance and his

refusal to engage directly in it (p . 11).



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