When the body of the people is possessed of the supreme
power, it is called a democracy. When the supreme power is lodged in the
hands of a part of the people, it is then an aristocracy.
In a democracy the people are in some respects the sovereign, and in
others the subject.
There can be no exercise of sovereignty but by their suffrages,
which are their own will; now the sovereign's will is the sovereign
himself. The laws therefore which establish the right of suffrage are
fundamental to this government. And indeed it is as important to
regulate in a republic, in what manner, by whom, to whom, and concerning
what, suffrages are to be given, as it is in a monarchy to know who is
the prince, and after what manner he ought to govern.
Libanius
[2]
says that at Athens a stranger who intermeddled in the
assemblies of the people was punished with death. This is because such a
man usurped the rights of sovereignty.
It is an essential point to fix the number of citizens who are to
form the public assemblies; otherwise it would be uncertain whether the
whole, or only a part of the people, had given their votes. At Sparta
the number was fixed at ten thousand. But Rome, designed by Providence
to rise from the weakest beginnings to the highest pitch of grandeur;
Rome, doomed to experience all the vicissitudes of fortune; Rome, who
had sometimes all her inhabitants without her walls, and sometimes all
Italy and a considerable part of the world within them; Rome, I say,
never fixed the number
[3]
and this was one of the principal causes of her ruin.
The people, in whom the supreme power resides, ought to have the
management of everything within their reach: that which exceeds their
abilities must be conducted by their ministers.
But they cannot properly be said to have their ministers, without
the power of nominating them: it is, therefore, a fundamental maxim in
this government, that the people should choose their ministers — that
is, their magistrates.
They have occasion, as well as monarchs, and even more so, to be
directed by a council or senate. But to have a proper confidence in
these, they should have the choosing of the members; whether the
election be made by themselves, as at Athens, or by some magistrate
deputed for that purpose, as on certain occasions was customary at Rome.
The people are extremely well qualified for choosing those whom they
are to entrust with part of their authority. They have only to be
determined by things to which they cannot be strangers, and by facts
that are obvious to sense. They can tell when a person has fought many
battles, and been crowned with success; they are, therefore, capable of
electing a general. They can tell when a judge is assiduous in his
office, gives general satisfaction, and has never been charged with
bribery: this is sufficient for choosing a prætor. They are struck with
the magnificence or riches of a fellow-citizen; no more is requisite for
electing an edile. These are facts of which they can have better
information in a public forum than a monarch in his palace. But are they
capable of conducting an intricate affair, of seizing and improving the
opportunity and critical moment of action? No; this surpasses their
abilities.
Should we doubt the people's natural capacity, in respect to the
discernment of merit, we need only cast an eye on the series of
surprising elections made by the Athenians and Romans; which no one
surely will attribute to hazard.
We know that though the people of Rome assumed the right of raising
plebeians to public offices, yet they never would exert this power; and
though at Athens the magistrates were allowed, by the law of Aristides,
to be elected from all the different classes of inhabitants, there never
was a case, says Xenophon,
[4]
when the common people petitioned for employments which could endanger
either their security or their glory.
As most citizens have sufficient ability to choose, though
unqualified to be chosen, so the people, though capable of calling
others to an account for their administration, are incapable of
conducting the administration themselves.
The public business must be carried on with a certain motion,
neither too quick nor too slow. But the motion of the people is always
either too remiss or too violent. Sometimes with a hundred thousand arms
they overturn all before them; and sometimes with a hundred thousand
feet they creep like insects.
In a popular state the inhabitants are divided into certain classes.
It is in the manner of making this division that great legislators have
signalised themselves; and it is on this the duration and prosperity of
democracy have ever depended.
Servius Tullius followed the spirit of aristocracy in the
distribution of his classes. We find in Livy
[5]
and in Dionysius Halicarnassus,
[6]
in what manner he lodged the right of suffrage in the
hands of the principal citizens. He had divided the people of Rome into
193 centuries, which formed six classes; and ranking the rich, who were
in smaller numbers, in the first centuries, and those in middling
circumstances, who were more numerous, in the next, he flung the
indigent multitude into the last; and as each century had but one
vote
[7]
it was property rather than numbers that decided the election.
Solon divided the people of Athens into four classes. In this he was
directed by the spirit of democracy, his intention not being to fix
those who were to choose, but such as were eligible: therefore, leaving
to every citizen the right of election, he made
[8]
the judges eligible from each of those four classes; but the magistrates he ordered to be
chosen only out of the first three, consisting of persons of easy
fortunes.
[9]
As the division of those who have a right of suffrage is a
fundamental law in republics, so the manner of giving this suffrage is
another fundamental.
The suffrage by lot is natural to democracy; as that by choice is to
aristocracy.
[10]
The suffrage by lot is a method of electing that offends no one, but
animates each citizen with the pleasing hope of serving his country.
Yet as this method is in itself defective, it has been the endeavour
of the most eminent legislators to regulate and amend it.
Solon made a law at Athens that military employments should be
conferred by choice; but that senators and judges should be elected by
lot.
The same legislator ordained that civil magistracies, attended with
great expense, should be given by choice; and the others by lot.
In order, however, to amend the suffrage by lot, he made a rule that
none but those who presented themselves should be elected; that the
person elected should be examined by judges
[11]
and that every one should have a right to accuse him if he were unworthy of
the office:
[12]
this participated at the same time of the suffrage by lot, and of that
by choice. When the time of their magistracy had expired, they were
obliged to submit to another judgment in regard to their conduct.
Persons utterly unqualified must have been extremely backward in giving
in their names to be drawn by lot.
The law which determines the manner of giving suffrage is likewise
fundamental in a democracy. It is a question of some importance whether
the suffrages ought to be public or secret. Cicero observes
[13]
that the laws
[14]
which rendered them secret towards the close of the republic
were the cause of its decline. But as this is differently practised in
different republics, I shall offer here my thoughts concerning this
subject.
The people's suffrages ought doubtless to be public
[15]
and this should be considered as a fundamental law of democracy. The lower class
ought to be directed by those of higher rank, and restrained within
bounds by the gravity of eminent personages. Hence, by rendering the
suffrages secret in the Roman republic, all was lost; it was no longer
possible to direct a populace that sought its own destruction. But when
the body of the nobles are to vote in an aristocracy
[16]
or in a democracy the senate
[17]
as the business is then only to prevent intrigues, the suffrages cannot be too
secret.
Intriguing in a senate is dangerous; it is dangerous also in a body
of nobles; but not so among the people, whose nature is to act through
passion. In countries where they have no share in the government, we
often see them as much inflamed on account of an actor as ever they
could be for the welfare of the state. The misfortune of a republic is
when intrigues are at an end; which happens when the people are gained
by bribery and corruption: in this case they grow indifferent to public
affairs, and avarice becomes their predominant passion. Unconcerned
about the government and everything belonging to it, they quietly wait
for their hire.
It is likewise a fundamental law in democracies, that the people
should have the sole power to enact laws. And yet there are a thousand
occasions on which it is necessary the senate should have the power of
decreeing; nay, it is frequently proper to make some trial of a law
before it is established. The constitutions of Rome and Athens were
excellent. The decrees of the senate
[18]
had the force of laws for the space of a year, but did not become perpetual
till they were ratified by the consent of the people.
