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THE DIALOGUE IN HELL BETWEEN MACHIAVELLI AND MONTESQUIEU -- COMMENTARY

COMMENTARY

Part 1:  The Machiavelli-Montesquieu Debate

Chapter One:  THE ESSENTIAL DIFFERENCES BETWEEN MACHIAVELLI AND MONTESQUIEU

The Dialogue in Hell consists of four major parts. Part one contains the first seven dialogues. In the last of these, Machiavelli gives a "quick sketch" of his  revolutionary regime. It is a fitting preface to the rest of the Dialogue as a  whole, which elaborates the essential elements of a new despotism in detail. The  present chapter will comment on the first three dialogues. The next chapter will  comment on the remaining dialogues of Part One. Before turning to this textual  analysis, a brief summary of the movement of the argument in Part One is in order.

In the first two Dialogues, Machiavelli and Montesquieu respectively present the fundamental principles of their political philosophies. This concludes with  Machiavelli's assertion that despotism is an eternal possibility and Montesquieu's contrary assertion that the progress of history since his interlocutor's  death has rendered despotism obsolete. The Third Dialogue begins a more  elaborate discussion of Montesquieu's political science which is designed to  counter the concentration of power that is the necessary and perhaps sufficient  condition of tyranny. By the end of the Third Dialogue, we are made aware of a  certain gap, not in Machiavelli's knowledge of history, but in that of Montesquieu, who is largely unaware of certain critical events since his own death. His  ignorance of what had happened since 1847 crucially changes the whole direction of his conversation with Machiavelli. If we count the Seventh Dialogue as  prefatory, this occurs literally in the center of Part One.

The next chapter of this study is devoted to a commentary on the Fourth through the Seventh Dialogues and begins with Machiavelli's initial assault on the political system just elaborated by Montesquieu. The Sixth Dialogue concludes in a "wager". Montesquieu is confident that his regime is proof against  "Machiavellian" despotism, while Machiavelli claims that he can found such a  regime, even granting liberal institutions and the most enlightened political conditions.

In the rest of the Dialogue in Hell, Machiavelli redeems his bet by describing a new political founding that supplants the liberal regime of Montesquieu. He  proves the eternal possibility of despotism but in the element of a totally new understanding of political things-what later chapters will show as essentially derived from the "Doctrine of Saint-Simon." A new political science and conception of history emerges in Machiavelli's discourse and it can be understood as  the counterpart of Montesquieu's political science, as elaborated in Part One.

The Encounter

The First Dialogue opens with an impressive demonstration ofMachiavelli's dialectical skill. He expresses his elation at finding Montesquieu, whom he has  assiduously sought out. To converse with "great men' whose "names have resounded throughout the universe" is more than ample compensation for the loss  of earthly existence which, in Machiavelli's case, proved so burdensome in  many particulars. Of all "illustrious persons," he would rather meet no one more  than "the great Montesquieu."

In repeating the epithet "great," Machiavelli returns the compliment of the illustrious author of The Spirit of the Laws who had indeed referred to the Florentine philosopher in that work as a "great man." [1] Montesquieu reacts to such a seemingly gracious greeting with reserve. It is perhaps less an indication of Machiavelli's true feelings and more an example of "the language of courts" he put  to use as a Florentine diplomat. The fact that Montesquieu does not warmup to  this original entreaty is an indication of a quite understandable suspiciousness in  the face of such an enigmatic and ill-reputed personage. 

It is a disconsolate Montesquieu that Machiavelli greets. The position in which Montesquieu finds himself apparently has robbed him of former pleasures, chiefly glory. "The name 'great' belongs to no one here, O Machiavelli,"  he states with sighing resignation. Indeed, Montesquieu is so disconsolate that  he risks a breach of good manners. He denies greatness, not only to himself, but also to anyone else in this hell, thereby in effect retracting the compliment he paid Machiavelli while alive. He is somewhat surprised that Machiavelli could  relish a conversation under such circumstances, when there is nothing to exchange but "anguish and regrets." To say the least, Montesquieu does not share Machiavelli's enthusiasm for any conversation.

Far from being a mere exercise in courtliness and engaging flattery, Machiavelli's greeting has served to sound out his interlocutor's frame of mind. Machiavelli learns that Montesquieu is not an eager conversationalist and that steps  must be taken to turn this reluctance around, if they are to profit in any way  from their encounter. He first must know the deeper causes of Montesquieu's "anguish," and the question he frames is delicately designed to encourage a  fuller revelation of his interlocutor on this score. In a little while, we learn that  Machiavelli's knowledge of history is up-to-date, while Montesquieu is crucially ignorant of the happenings since 1847. Nothing he has learned, apparently, has prepared him for what follows this momentous date. Hidden from Montesquieu  is the revolutionary breakdown of society, and the knowledge of what this imports directly bears on the question of the possibilities for despotism that becomes the substance of their conversation. The point is that Machiavelli initially masks in optimism his distressing knowledge of what has come to pass in contemporary Europe. He tests his interlocutor by asking how it is that such a renowned "philosopher" and "statesman" could speak so disconsolately. But before Montesquieu can answer, Machiavelli indicates, speaking for himself at  least, that Montesquieu's attitude is groundless in either case.

To true philosophers, the passing of earthly existence, which Montesquieu regrets so much, is of little account. The truth of things, what really matters to  such men, is deathless, and present circumstances offer certain advantages in its pursuit that are unavailable to mere mortals. Here, in the "domain of pure reason," a person may converse with the great minds of the past. Furthermore, one  may meditate upon the affairs of the world, an engaging "spectacle to contemplate," "full of marvels," as related by the deceased who have descended to this  hell. And such "marvels" are far from disquieting. Rather, they bespeak the un-  folding "lessons of history" that vindicate "human rights." Insofar as the goal of  the statesman is to secure these rights, Machiavelli shows Montesquieu that he  especially should not be disconsolate or despairing. Moreover, since even "the  void of death" could not break all the ties that attach us to earth, Montesquieu's statesmanlike role in history as "legislator of nations" is still acknowledged. For advancing the political art and so ameliorating the lot of his fellow man, no one  so blessed by posterity can wait more confidently for final judgment.

Why then such "anguish and regrets" on Montesquieu's part? By implication, it must be for other than purely philosophical reasons or disinterested concern for mortals, in whose happiness he does not share at present. He seems to  regret his loss of glory and personal celebrity, the full measure of which attaches  to earthly existence. It certainly "belongs to no one here," where all are reduced  by death to a miserable existence in this peculiar hell. In any case, a frank admission of such regrets would be unbecoming, smacking too much of human  pride and vanity. Montesquieu does not like being put into a position of inferiority to Machiavelli, who appears more genuinely disinterested. However, it is the concern with glory that is uppermost in the Montesquieu's mind. He wonders how someone like Machiavelli, apparently so capable of lofty concerns and sentiments, can support the infamy of his reputation-what he facetiously calls "immense renown."

Montesquieu's response is noteworthy in a number of respects. Machiavelli has spoken, for his part, on the nature of present existence in a manner that invites commentary from his interlocutor. Given his expressed unhappiness, we might expect Montesquieu, for his part, to criticize the edifying picture of hell  just described for him. Disembodied existence precludes material pleasures. But  even the merits of the philosophic life, praised by Machiavelli, might appear questionable in such circumstances. The imminence of divine judgment might  overshadow any pursuits, including the pleasures of the mind.

Moreover, had Montesquieu known of the most recent events in France, he would have questioned straight away the sanguine view of history that seemingly provides such edifying and interesting material for Machiavelli's contemplation. Yet, as we shall see, he essentially accepts this perspective and believes  that history is inexorably moving toward the universal fulfillment of human  rights. Montesquieu appears not only singularly complacent, he is perhaps not  sufficiently philosophic. At least he lacks the dogged earnestness of his interlocutor in his search for conversation and enlightenment. He rests confident of  his knowledge and sure in his faith in history .Machiavelli will address him accordingly.

In any event, we get neither the "philosophic" nor the "political" discussion Machiavelli tried to elicit. Instead, Machiavelli is caned to justify himself. Their conversation can not take place in any meaningful way if Machiavelli is in fact  as his reputation depicts him. Montesquieu's suspiciousness must be dissipated.  As we shall see, Machiavelli gets his philosophic and political dialogue. He  turns what ostensibly begins as a personal defense into a testing of Montesquieu's deepest and dearest convictions and thereby cleverly succeeds in revealing his interlocutor more than himself.

The exchange to this point can be summarized as follows. Montesquieu has returned the courtly compliment of Machiavevelli that opens their conversation  with one that is caustjcally facetious. He hides his own desire for recognition  and real regret at his loss of the world by feigning to admire Machiavelli's  "modesty" in the face of his "immense renown." The subject suddenly changes from Montesquieu's fame to Machiavelli's infamy as "compliments" come to be  understood by both as veiling barbed reproaches. Before Montesquieu might  have to answer to loving reputation and the worldly trappings of glory and success too much, he accuses Machiavelli of shameless disregard of reputation that  had him promoting despotism while truckling with tyrants. Machiavelli's "modesty" is really brazenness and his "renown" infamy.

Machiavelli begins his defense by himself attacking his interlocutor for a vulgar view which, full of "blind prejudice," makes the name Machiavelli synonymous with evil. Judging like "the crowd," he would hold Machiavelli responsible for all tyrannies. Far from truckling with tyrants, Machiavelli presents  himself as having put his life, fortune, and honor on the line in defense of his fatherland and the advance of republicanism there. He even suffered torture at the  hands of the Medici for remaining true to his cause. He expects a better judgment from the "great French publicist" while; as a last recourse, he appeals to  Providence to correct the injustices he has suffered?

Such an appeal is calculated to affect the Frenchman, who is shown in the Dialogue to be a staunch patriot himself. Montesquieu admits that the dichotomy between Machiavelli's life and thought has always been a puzzle to him.  How can the "servant of a republic" be the founder of a school that would "justify tyrannies' most heinous crimes?" he asks in sincere consternation. 

Since the topic is broached, Machiavelli will give a most pleasing answer to Montesquieu. It confirms the view Montesquieu would like to hold of the Florentine, while it separates him from Machiavelli's "vulgar accusers." Montesquieu assumes he belongs among those who "know" Machiavelli's life and have "attentively read" his works. In fact he takes at face value what is only hypothetically offered as a defense. He mistakenly sees as candid a response that appeals to his vanity in confirming his own opinions regarding the "true" Machiavelli and his superiority to those who judge like "the crowd."

"What if I told you that the book was only the product of a diplomat's imagination?" Machiavelli asks. He goes on to explain that the book was never  meant for publication. Therefore, the infamy it gained him was undeserved and  unfortunate. Moreover, he indicates that in depicting political conditions in sixteenth century Italy, he was merely reflecting the standards of the times, not  eternal maxims for politics-a line of defense that is not even complete when  Montesquieu interrupts to congratulate him for such a frank avowal. In fact, this  is what Montesquieu thought all along but it does Machiavelli "honor" to hear  him dissociate his "real" self from the thoughts contained in The Prince. The  politics of the times had "clouded" his "exalted mind." The book can be seen as the reflections of a diplomat, and should not be judged by the rigors of philosophy or political science. The skeptical regard of Montesquieu vanishes. He now  can enthusiastically enter a conversation with one so maligned and misunderstood. At the precise moment Montesquieu opens up, Machiavelli retracts what  Montesquieu found so pleasing and reassuring.

The Fundamentals of Machiavellian Thought

Machiavelli now attacks not only the vulgar conception of himself but also the more learned one espoused by Montesquieu and others, who have declared  their confidence in having understood the Florentine. Far from a personalized  account with limited historical applicability, his thinking is based on eternal  truths, Machiavelli now forthrightly claims. Rejecting dialectics and the ancient philosophic approach identified with Socrates, he claims to join his interlocutor  in putting forth a systematic account of human things, deduced from certain  principles that are based on hard "facts," however unpleasant. Particular attention should be paid to Machiavelli at this point, which comes before the full measure of his interlocutor has been taken. The tack of the conversation changes in light of certain of Montesquieu's limitations, which are not yet known.

In what is perhaps his most forthright description of his intention, Machiavelli claims that his "only crime" was "to speak the truth to peoples as I did to  kings"-not the "moral truth" or "the truth as it should be," but the "political truth" as "it is and always will be." Machiavellianism, the paternity of which is attributed to Machiavelli, is actually "grounded in the human heart." Machiavelli is only the objective analyst of what later came to be known as "Machiavellianism." He can not be held as its cause. In fact, "Machiavellianism preceded Machiavelli," as a long list of practitioners of the Machiavellian arts attests. Of course, it also succeeds Machiavelli. However, The Prince could not teach to such types anything that they already didn't know by the practices of power.  They are no different from those that preceded The Prince and have all acted in remarkably similar fashions.

Such a statement is a sufficient response to the charges of his more vulgar detractors and their moral condemnation of his thought. He did not intend to depict "moral truths" nor did he intend, in the manner of ancient philosophy, to investigate "how things should be." His was the effectual truth of political matters, something which is eternally true. Therefore, his thought can not be so easily  dismissed as the product of a particular era. The Machiavellianism he describes,  because it is inscribed in the human heart, has its practitioners throughout human history. And the most recent past, known to Machiavelli but hidden from  Montesquieu, finds his teaching on despotism once again relevant.

According to Machiavelli, his political teaching is based on modern science which, he implies at the end of the First Dialogue, is also the animating spirit of  Montesquieu in his works. Therefore, it makes as much sense to reproach Machiavelli for seeking the effectual truth of politics as the physicist for seeking the  physical cause of falling bodies that harm us. It is not unlike blaming "the doctor," he continues, "for describing diseases, the chemist for cataloguing poisons,  the moralist for portraying vice, and the historian for writing history."

Though admittedly not gifted in argument,3 Joly's Montesquieu would like to protest the evident fallacy of such an analogy, given the thrust of Machiavelli's teaching in works that he supposedly "attentively read." Despite his disavowal of more vulgar critics, Montesquieu here shares with them a moral condemnation of Machiavelli for communicating to states through his works "how to distill" political poison. According to this view, Machiavelli seeks evil in order to propagate it, not to cure it. However, if we take Machiavelli literally at his  word here, he seems to present himself in Montesquieu's camp as an enemy of  despotism and in patent conflict with The Prince, at least as Montesquieu here  interprets it. By his analogy with the medical art, Machiavelli condemns despotism as an evil, a malady of the political system as is heart disease, for example,  to the bodily system. Machiavelli does not correct Montesquieu 's understanding  in this regard but merely rebukes him for not having understood his thought "in  its entirety."

Given Montesquieu's "incomplete" understanding of Machiavelli, it is curious that Machiavelli does not take steps to enlighten his interlocutor at this time  about the "full" meaning of his thought. This has the desired effect of provoking Montesquieu to a further revelation of himself and to an articulation of his own political principles in the Second Dialogue. Machiavelli succeeds in engaging Montesquieu in the serious discussion he was previously reluctant to enter and  effectively lays the groundwork for their fateful wager by encouraging Montesquieu to believe not only in the moral rectitude of his position but its unassailable character, as well.

Machiavelli states that his own system is "unshakable" because it is based on an "eternal truth," It is a "fact" that Machiavelli does not even feel compelled to demonstrate that "the evil instinct in man is more powerful than the good." Because man is "more attracted by evil than by good," it follows that "fear and force have more sway over him than reason." In such a bleak description of human nature, the prospects for despotism are enhanced. " All men seek domination and no one would not be a tyrant," if he honestly followed his inclinations.  Still, the picture is curiously qualified immediately after such a blanket statement. " All, or nearly all, are ready to sacrifice another's rights to their own interests."

As the qualification seems to indicate, Machiavelli has been intentionally provocative to this point. He does in fact recognize the force for good in man,  though he thinks the inclination to evil is much stronger. He apparently thinks  that "some" at least might be willing to sacrifice their interests for the rights of  others. Shortly, in what appears to be a blanket critique of liberty, he claims that  in certain "regions of Europe," people are incapable of moderation in its exercise. Are there other "regions" where liberty suits its people? Liberty's degeneration into license again prompts a rather qualified praise for despotism. Is it  not a better alternative than anarchy? 

Beyond the shocking way in which Machiavelli expresses himself, there is perhaps not so great a distance between the Machiavelli of the Dialogue and this  Montesquieu, after all. Certain aspects of the Montesquieuan system are compatible with what Machiavelli here states as his own teaching. It would not be incorrect to characterize that system as intending to build upon certain general human proclivities to effect a more common good, while leaving scope and encouragement for man's better instincts, if only found in the few. Accordingly,  Montesquieu ' s teaching might be viewed as "Machiavellianism come of age"- a prudent and less shocking application of similar principles. "If I am not mitaken," Machiavelli asks, "aren't a number of these ideas found in The Spirit of  the Laws?" [4]

As in certain passages of The Prince, Joly's Machiavelli returns to the beginnings of society to discover the real operative principles of politics. He eschews considerations of transcendent "ends" or any "abstract" standard by  which to judge political life as ineffectual guides that distort political life as it  really is. "I have taken societies as they are," Machiavelli states, "and have laid  down rules accordingly." Violence and deceit might be considered evil "in the  abstract," he continues. However, such acts can not be judged good or evil in themselves. The standard we should bring to bear is whether or not they promote  what is "useful and necessary" to political life. And it is the necessity "to live"  that "dominates states as it does individuals." In fact, "good," understood as  Montesquieu understands it, "can come from evil." Furthermore, as the most brilliant societies of the world have issued from despotism, it might be argued  that "one attains good through evil."  In sum, "the end justifies the means" and  we shower great men with glory who effectively act by this maxim in the founding of their countries.

Given the self-seeking nature of "these ravenous beasts we call men," force is always a recurrent necessity for ruling and maintaining order. Political crises,  the real focus of Machiavelli's discussion, might be said to require a return to  "the origins of society" where "brutal and unrestrained force prevails." In this  light, law is "still force," but "institutionalized" and softened by "certain forms."  Machiavelli, who consults history and not abstract standards, finds in force the  fundamental ground of politics. "Everywhere force precedes right," and is its  precondition. The brute fact of force may be compared with the idea of "justice,"-a mere "word"-"infinitely vague" whose application to the political  conduct of rulers, though admittedly relevant, is demonstrably contingent and  therefore "extremely limited."

The limits of justice are most clearly discerned in relations among nations, whose lupine practices reveal the fundamental role of force. Such limits also hold, covertly, regarding the relation of the ruler to the people, whose self-regarding and "ravenous" nature is a constant threat to authority. When unrestrained by the prince, the masses inevitably lead society to "dissolution" and "the brink of destruction." Indeed, there is no real distinction between internal  and external enemies. Therefore, the "force and cunning" that we applaud in one  sphere cannot legitimately be condemned in the other. Rather than following the  requirements of any abstract standard in this regard, we might arrive at the truth of what Machiavelli says by contemplating what is implied in the praise of the  Caesarian leaders in history , whose "heavy hands were placed more often on the  hilts of their swords than on the charters of their states."

"Have you ever seen a single state conduct itself according to the principles that govern private morality?" Machiavelli asks Montesquieu. What obtains in the real world remains the standard for Machiavelli and this is what prompts such a rhetorical question. The vulgar criticisms of The Prince that judge politics by other principles amount to nothing more than "childish" reproaches. Indeed, a politics guided by "private morality" is not only ineffective, it also  brings disaster, for the necessities of political life-unless addressed with cunning and force-will sooner or later make themselves felt.

As a final provocation to Montesquieu, Machiavelli retracts the patriotic statements he had earlier made in his defense and which proved so pleasing to  Montesquieu. He defends the justice of despotism for a country that lacked the  capacity "to conceive and respect the conditions of free life." He thereby disavows his lifelong efforts on behalf of a republican cause. Having confessed his  failure in his life's enterprise, he cleverly ends the First Dialogue with praise of  Montesquieu as the "legislator of nations." Montesquieu is moved by this praise to a fuller articulation of his own political principles, which, in his lifetime, brought him the celebrity and practical influence that escaped Machiavelli.

Montesquieu's Correction of Machiavelli

Montesquieu initially responds to Machiavelli with confident condescension. In effect, this restatement of Machiavellianism is "old hat." There is really nothing "new" in all this. Machiavelli's menacing posture, which Montesquieu sees as intending to shock him, appears farcical. To this point, Machiavelli's discourse has been less than "philosophic," according to Montesquieu. Indeed, if  the conversation is to continue in any meaningful way, it must be raised to a  higher theoretical level where the ultimate "principles" of what Machiavelli says  regarding the foundations of political life are investigated and understood in a  more rigorous and consistent fashion.

Montesquieu charges that Machiavelli is not a great theoretician, implying that he, the poor debater, is. Machiavelli is "above all a political man," more impressed by "facts" than "ideas." According to the Frenchman, The Prince is unlike The Spirit of the Laws in having no universally applicable political teaching. As Machiavelli earlier stated, The Prince is more a chronicle of sixteenth century Italy, the value of which is limited, though revealingly depicted by one  who was an active participant in the politics of his time.

Machiavelli expresses little patience with considerations of what transcends this world and the effectual workings of its politics. Accordingly, Montesquieu stresses the realism of his position even as he challenges Machiavelli's views on the utter irrelevance of morality for politics. What will make it possible for  Montesquieu to bring decency and realism together is the argument that the  world has changed. The horizon of The Prince is no longer adequate for modern  times. "Eternal truths" cannot be derived from what applies only to a given moment in a long historical process. According to Montesquieu, Machiavellianism is passe, even granting that it could ever be theoretically justified. Indeed, a look to the real world confirms its irrelevance.

According to Montesquieu, the Machiavellian position, just articulated, grants "no place" to "morals, religion, or justice." This reduces political life, what is in fact unique to human beings, to the animal world. For this reason, the  role of "force and cunning," the two words ever on Machiavelli's tongue, receives preponderate influence in what could more accurately be called the law of  the jungle. Montesquieu does not quibble with the fact that "force plays a great  role in human affairs" and that "cunning is a prerequisite for statesmen." This "needs no demonstration." He rather questions the exclusive part Machiavelli  reserves for them in politics.

The more "theoretical" Montesquieu would caution the "practical" Machiavelli to be cognizant of certain fundamental principles that are inextricably involved in any discussion of the foundations of political life. If he intend"set up violence as a principle and cunning as a maxim of government," we in  effect lose contact with the human world and enter the animal world where 'justice" does give way to "brute force." Not even Machiavelli goes so far in such a  crude reductionism. If he does not recognize the question of justice as central to politics, he does recognize a distinction between "good and evil" as relevant to  the political realm and human affairs. From a moral point of view, the problem  is that the relationship between "good" and "evil" is much more ambiguous than  most people realize or admit.

According to Machiavelli, "good can come from evil." This is revealed most fully in the investigation of political origins, for these show the roots of morality  to lie in immorality. As Machiavelli puts it, the ground of 'justice" lies in its  "negation"-force. But Montesquieu is not content with this simple point and  intends to explore this assertion in a more rigorous fashion. This will bring into  better focus certain presumptions behind the Machiavellian political view that  Montesquieu now claims to be not only inapplicable to the present day but without theoretical foundations.

According to Montesquieu, a political teaching that would sanction any act-including corruption, violence, or murder, just because it is deemed "necessary," "useful," or "advantageous" is untenable. Principles that could guide political life can not be derived from such a position. Indeed, a society could not  even be constituted, let alone maintained, among individuals who always acted selfishly. If Machiavelli were consistent, he would have to admit as much.

In fact, what Machiavelli permits the rulers, he forbids in the ruled. What is a "virtue" for the one is a "crime" for the other. Machiavelli's "morality" is the "morality" of the strong, or rather, it is the view that the strong, by virtue of their  station, are exempt from morality insofar as it is embodied in certain rules, both  written and unwritten, that guide the weak or many. Therefore, Machiavellian-  ism, properly understood, applies narrowly and only to the few. Any "maxims" derived from his teaching must be understood accordingly and not, as Montesquieu says, as universally applicable "principles."

According to Montesquieu, the "force" that Machiavelli sees as the basis of society is but an "exception in the conduct of orderly societies." It is not called  into playas part of the ordinary operation of society but is confined to the ruler's  discretion at truly exceptional and dire moments. Montesquieu himself does recognize overriding "reasons of state" but not in the manner of Machiavelli, who  sees in them broad sanction for rulers to act outside the dictates of justice. He refuses to follow the Machiavellian line of reasoning that "posits as the basis of  society that which destroys it. "

A closer examination of these extreme moments indicates that precisely when rulers are forced to violate the ordinary rules of society, the spirit of justice is invoked. "Even the most arbitrary powers are obliged to seek sanction in considerations foreign to the theory of force," The extreme situation in fact does  not reveal the naked datum of interest, of which Machiavelli speaks, but the continued relevance of moral ends, considerations of the common good (if not the explicit rules that normally apply), that alone can guide and redeem any legitimate application of force. 

The pursuit of Machiavellian self-interest by princes or peoples leads to crimes that spell the dissolution of society. Montesquieu, on the other hand, does  not expose himself to such consequences when he gives justice as the basis of  society. As a more cogent examination of the extreme situation reveals, justice is an "idea" that "sets limits" beyond which state interest "must not pass"-if rule  is to endure and in fact avoid the very degeneration of society which, according  to Machiavelli, only despotic force can arrest.

Montesquieu's defense of morality is made in the name of the "self-preservation" of society, that is, the same grounds on which Machiavelli rests his theory of force. To neglect the dictates of justice is tantamount to introducing "civil war" into "the bosom of society." Machiavelli does not serve the principle  of order in exempting princes from a morality that necessarily guides the behavior of private citizens. Furthermore, there is nothing "doubtful or obscure" about  its precepts. "They are written into all religions and are imprinted in luminous  characters in the conscience of man." This is the "pure source" from which civil,  political, economic, and international law must flow.

Just as there can be nothing obscure in the violence of despotism, there is likewise nothing obscure in the requirements of morality. The prince's violation  of what holds universally and clearly thus has important consequences for political rule. "Stop deceiving yourself," Montesquieu adjures. "Each act of usurpation by the prince in the public domain authorizes a similar infraction where  the subject is concerned. Each act of political treason engenders the same in society at large. Each act of violence in high places legitimates one in low." Contradicting Machiavelli, Montesquieu concludes by categorically asserting that  "princes can not permit themselves what private morality does not permit." 

Machiavelli is not only being logically inconsistent in offering as a "principle" of politics what applies only narrowly to princes. He offers as "maxims" for  political action what in fact destroys the order of society he seeks to preserve. In  concerning himself only with "facts" that apply in the real world, Machiavelli  claimed to be scientific in his approach to politics. Montesquieu, however, can  claim that it is really he who is faithful to the spirit of modem thought that Machiavelli pioneered. His conclusion about morality and politics is based exclusively on logic and empirical evidence that avoids the abstract theorizing that  characterized pre-modern thought.

It becomes increasingly clear that historicist presumptions are the basis of Montesquieu 's view of Machiavelli. For all of Machiavelli's claims for himself as embracing the spirit of modern thought, his defense of princely politics bespeaks a defense of an historical order, pivotal indeed for the evolution of modernity, but historically dated from Montesquieu's later and more inclusive perspective on the character of man's development. In a gentlemanly but still  condescending manner, Montesquieu exonerates the sanguinary views of his interlocutor as due to limitations of history , not of mind.

As an apologist for the princely politics of his time, Machiavelli speaks from a point of view where the necessity of order often predominated over the ordinary rules of justice. Machiavelli admires "great men," who presided over such  moments and stamped their personality on whole epochs. Through personal rule,  they wielded the force necessary to bring order out of chaos. On the other hand,  Montesquieu admires "great institutions only." These are the by-product of the  progress of reason which has slowly changed the character of history and politics to the point where order is guaranteed only in the advance of justice and the  popular cause. .'As enlightenment has spread among the diverse peoples of  Europe, justice has been substituted for force in theory and practice."

To Machiavelli, Montesquieu's concern for justice bespeaks the vestiges of ancient theory. Being guided by such lights inevitably leads to practices that are  antithetical to the political necessity that always operates on human society and  is neglected at our common peril. For Montesquieu, the institutions he admires  have rationalized society and terminated the era of great men whose contributions to society are much more ambiguous than Machiavelli would want to admit. Their Machiavellian practices might be exonerated in certain instances during Machiavelli's own time. They now have been effectively neutralized by a new political science that has sought, through the complex play of institutions, a more effective organization of political society than the strictly hierarchical arrangements of the past.

According to Montesquieu, the fate of whole peoples is no longer tied to the personality of a given individual. Man has advanced as history has advanced and such a tutelage that formerly existed is no longer appropriate to his present condition. Therefore, Montesquieu tells Machiavelli, .'if you could say in your time that despotism was a necessary evil, you could not say so today." So powerful is  the hold of reason and so irreversible is the progress of history that "among the  principal peoples of Europe, despotism has become impossible." At the beginning of this Dialogue, Montesquieu had attributed to Machiavelli a crude reductionist view of man. His own view is one that moves in an opposite direction and speaks of man's perfectibility, not in a transcendent image of ancient philosophy, but "in fact," as empirically verified by the progressive march of history.

Because of his faith in history, Montesquieu can be more sanguine and tolerant in the face of "crimes committed in the name of liberty." The anarchy that  was a constant political possibility for Machiavelli indicated to him the eternal possibility for  despotism. Popular uprisings are no longer anathema for Montesquieu but may serve history in its transition to a higher stage of development. [5] In more enlightened times, such turmoil bespeaks the changed character of the  people and it marks the distance from the despotism that reigns in the Orient, "where people doze peacefully in the degradation of slavery." In the next Dialogue, Montesquieu explains his own contribution to enlightened politics and the  advance of political science.

The opening of the Third Dialogue reminds the reader of the eerie context of the conversation as well as its precariousness. Montesquieu is protective of his interlocutor lest they be separated in the continual migration of souls that marks  this hell. It is perhaps a measure of his interest and confidence at this particular  point that he is so solicitous that his conversation with Machiavelli continues.  Nothing that Machiavelli has said has shaken him and he probably relishes the  thought of besting him in their evolving dispute. Such solicitude also bespeaks  the skill of Machiavelli in so sedulously engaging such a reluctant interlocutor to  the conversation he wanted.

Later in the very same Dialogue, we learn that Montesquieu has passed most of his time in hell with people from the ancient world. He has only recently  come into contact with modern souls and these have "arrived from the distant  corners of the universe." They have not been very informative about the most  recent happenings in Europe and France, matters close to Montesquieu's heart.

Montesquieu's Political Teaching

Montesquieu is anxious to defend his statement about the utter impossibility of despotism taking root in modern times-which is certainly his most provocative proposition. This naturally leads to a discussion of his own formidable contributions to a political science that designs the institutions of government in  such a way as to counter despotic ambitions. "If anything can alleviate my anxiety in the hours before the Last Judgment, it is the thought that my time on earth  had something to do with this great emancipation," he states. Machiavelli has succeeded in having his conversation with Montesquieu by turning his interlocutor's thoughts away from his unhappy lot here in hell to "sweeter" ruminations, namely, the beneficent role he played in furthering the emancipation of man.

Machiavellli asserts that he is fully conversant with the thought of Montesquieu in his most famous work. However, he sees a discrepancy between what  the Montesquieu of The Spirit of the Laws says and what the Montesquieu who  stands before him says with respect to the present impossibility of despotism. If  Montesquieu has accused Machiavelli of being less than rigorous in his pretensions to science, Machiavelli, in turn, accuses Montesquieu of loose talk in "overstating the implications of principles found in The Spirit of the Laws. According to Machiavelli, who has apparently taken great pains to come to know  the thought contained in Montesquieu's books, the teaching of The Spirit of the  Laws is not so sanguine about the meager prospects for despotism.

In his own defense, Montesquieu claims to have "avoided elaborating long theories" in The Spirit of the Laws, a book known for its terse but elegant style.  What he currently holds is not at all at odds with that work and can easily be deduced "from the principles there posited." Moreover, he adds, what he has subsequently learned in hell prior to his encounter with Machiavelli has reinforced his optimism. Presumably, the modern men "from the most remote corners of  the world" have not been untouched by several of his ideas, nor have they been  immune to the general movement of history. He will not go so far as to say that  despotism is now incompatible with the conditions of all peoples but it is emphatically so in most of the  western part of Europe, including France, where  enlightenment has settled the politics of a fomlerly turbulent country. Of course,  Montesquieu's optimism would be tested and his theories modified were he  aware of the latest happenings in his own land.

Machiavelli, who is not at all ignorant in this regard, immediately suspects the deficiency of Montesquieu's historical knowledge, which, by his probing,  stands fully revealed at the end of this Dialogue. Given the conditions that now  characterize France, Montesquieu's optimism is comprehensible only in light of  his crucial ignorance. The course of Machiavelli's conversation with Montesquieu is profoundly altered by this revelation.

For his part, Montesquieu remains unperturbed in the face of a lacuna of only fifteen years (1847-1864). [6] Such a period of time is not long enough to change the direction of history and so alter the prospects for despotism in enlightened Europe. In fact, "centuries are necessary to change the principles and forms of government under which people have been accustomed to live." Given  modern developments and the change in the character of peoples that has  occurred subsequent to the era of Machiavelli, "the doctrines of Machiavelli certainly would not be the ones that triumph" in the short span of years in the most  recent past.

Montesquieu is given ample opportunity to elaborate the principles and forms of government that attain in enlightened times. He iterates the fact that it is to institutions, not to men, that we owe progress in "liberty and "morals." "All the good, indeed all the bad, which redounds to man in society, necessarily depends on the correct or incorrect ordering of institutions." This is immensely  important in understanding the development of civilization, he avers. The "political ills" man endures are a function of "theoretical and practical ignorance."  Their "cure" lies in "enlightenment," primarily in education of the people as to  their rights and the "fundamental principles of organizing political power." The reason for Montesquieu's optimism is grounded in his belief in the power of reason to affect history in bringing about the progressive betterment of man 's condition.

Montesquieu is emphatic in distinguishing the spirit of his political science from that of "those deplorable reformers who claim to found societies on a  purely rational ~sis." He approves of the "fine words of Solon" and speaks, like   the great ancient founder, only of the "the most perfect institutions that people are able to support." The organization of political society is not made in a vacuum but is fully consonant with the "climate, habits, customs, and even prejudices" that form the people. Contrary to what Machiavelli thinks, the prudence  so evident in the eminent author of The Spirit of the Laws is not abandoned to  any exaggerated hopes or claims, nor is it based on any hypothetical or abstract  application of reason unguided by the conditions of time or place.

Montesquieu 's idea of progress can best be appreciated against the backdrop of Machiavelli 's own time, which, Montesquieu intimates, fundamentally limits  and defines the views of his interlocutor. Machiavelli was born "at the end of the  Middle Ages," which was only the first dawning of modern times, a period that  was "still quite infected with barbarism." Anarchy and despotism were but two sides of the same coin, a product of the theoretical and practical ignorance in which nations had been for so long for want of principles that The Spirit of the Laws refined into a science. The growing influence of such a work guaranteed the spread of reason in Europe and beyond. 

In Machiavelli's time, "sovereignty rested solely in the person of the prince," who had at his disposition the unlimited exercise of absolute authority. All power was concentrated in the hands of an individual who considered himself "a preordained divinity" to whom "the human race was delivered." This thinking  gave rise to an arbitrary rule that could only be tyrannical. The precariousness of  a social order based on such foundations invited anarchy from a populace which could so easily be dispossessed of their "goods," "rights," and very "persons."  Liberties and public rights that did exist were fragile and rested on the better  motives of some rulers, the spirit of moderation among certain kings, or their fear of angering the people.

Indeed, anarchy, pure and simple, defined the world of Machiavelli. It existed in a most barbarous manner among nations where "kingdoms were the prey  of conquerors." But it also existed within states and manifested itself in the wars of sovereigns with their vassals, often claiming whole cities, the seeds of civilization, as victim. These were bold and tumultuous times, replete with "intrepid  commanders, men of iron, and audacious geniuses," that could appeal to the artistic imagination if not to any refined moral sensibilities. And this, according to  Montesquieu, is what explains the lively, brazen character of The Prince. [7]

Today, sovereignty is understood differently. An assertion of its prerogatives no longer finds such violent expression. lt is based on the principle of equality,  an idea perhaps strangely new to the ears of Machiavelli. People now "regard  themselves as the arbiters of their destinies." The strictly stratified society of the Middle Ages which separates subjects from rulers in the manner of men from gods has been replaced by one which, "in theory and practice," has destroyed  "privilege and aristocracy." In contrast to "the principle of sovereignty" that "rested solely in the person of the prince," allusion is made to a different notion  of sovereignty-popular sovereignty, the proper understanding of which and  what it entails will shortly become the main point of contention.

The advance of the principle of equality can be traced from the "beginnings" when institutions and laws were traditional, primitive, and narrowly conceived.  First, "personal rights were secured by civil laws." Gained by the "ancestral  blood," these  changed the status of subject to citizen, according to each individual the same privileges and immunities vis-a-vis one another. What measure of  protection and tranquility that the citizen gained thereby was succeeded by advances in "public right." Developments in international law, hardly known to  Machiavelli, today "regulates the relations among nations as civil law regulates  the relations of subjects in each nation." Unlike Machiavelli's time, conquerors  are no longer permitted to despoil the property of the conquered. Beyond such  minimal guarantees, treaties and conventions further refine relations among nations and define areas of rights and mutual interest.

A rational politics sees perhaps its greatest advance in the establishment of constitutions, which in turn exhibit their own progressive refinements. It is this  later development that orders affairs between the people and their rulers and establishes modern political right on a firm basis. "The person of the prince ceases  to be confounded with the notion of the state." The source of sovereignty is transferred to the "very heart of the nation." This allows the people to determine  as is convenient a whole new distribution and arrangement of powers between  the prince and other political bodies.

Montesquieu does not need to elaborate the details of his political science, embodied in the constitutional regimes of France and England, to such "an illustrious statesman." In simple terms, it features a separation and balance of essential governmental powers. Government is institutionally divided according to  function into three branches that are endowed with the interest and power to resist each other's encroachments. The "blending of powers," which formerly  permitted princes to "make tyrannical Jaws and to execute them tyrannically," is  thereby thwarted. In brief, government is made responsive to the people. This  solves the "primary problem" and the foremost political question by determining  the issue of ultimate sovereignty. Secondarily, the operations of government are so arranged that possible abuses of power are frustrated- mechanistically"-  through checks upon each other. This assumes that the government, which the  people ultimately control, also controls itself in its daily operations.

It is the nature of human beings, from considerations of pride and insecurity, to seek an extension of their power. Montesquieu shares the realistic views of  Machiavelli in wanting to build upon this most basic human proclivity in his  system of government and use such anti-social dispositions to the advantage of  society as a whole. In his political science, we might dispense with a too pre  carious reliance on the better motives of rulers to serve the interests of the ruled.  Power will be limited by erecting effective countervailing power.

According to Montesquieu, "at all times" and no matter what the political regime, society "is always governed by laws." Therefore, it is in the way "the  laws are made" that are found all the guarantees of the citizens. Here, Montesquieu effectively reverses the Machiavellian dictum that "the end justifies the  means." The "means," that is, the formal procedure of lawmaking in the well-founded regime, is itself in large measure determinative of the "ends," the protection of the rights of the individual.

The principle of the separation of powers, by which "internal public right was created," is actually a very sophisticated device to ensure that laws are  framed, executed, and judged by separate institutions or powers and according  to recognized procedures. In such a system of government, the private interest of  a given group or individual, whose motives are always suspect, can not find effective means to fulfillment. Because he has the means to effect his own personal will, the individual who makes the law and judges in his own case can be  suspected of partiality. For this reason, the lawmaking function is divorced from that of judging. On the other hand, the executive may rightfully enforce the law  but only in accord with legislation duly passed by the proper lawmaking body.  Conversely, the legislature may pronounce the law in general terms but can not arbitrarily punish or benefit an individual. Security for the individual is thus presumed in the very arrangement and operation of the different powers of government. This has an important influence on political behavior. A tranquility of  spirit is bred in the citizenry at large when it perceives its rights to be safeguarded by the due process of law. This conduces to a moderate and civil politics that was formerly preserved through moral appeals and a severe civic education.

Montesquieu's scheme is meant to correct a political problem that Enlightenment science rendered difficult. In former times, reverence for the law was assured by an appeal to divine sanctions, whose authority was premised in the  myths of the founding or, as in later Christian times, the divine right of kings.  The advance of secular philosophy precludes recourse to such precepts and sup-  ports in modern liberal regimes, where the "human all too human" character of  the law is evident in its very origins and daily administration. Nevertheless, an  abiding respect for the law emerges from Montesquieu's political science in its  capacity to guarantee the law's impartiality. The operative principle behind  Montesquieu's political science- "that no one is higher than the law"-- endows  the constitution and statutes, duly passed by the people, with legitimacy, if not  sanctity. In modern times, the claim of the law over the individual approximates  the hold it had over man in ancient polities where "the conditions of free government were admirably understood." [8]

The prudence of Montesquieu is again demonstrated in his suspicion of not only princely ambitions at odds with the people but in unmediated popular rule. Though ultimate sovereignty rests with the people through their duly elected  representatives, the popular assembly itself is properly tempered and controlled  through its relations with the other institutions of government. The regime is envisioned as "mixed." Aristocratic, monarchic, and democratic elements are  given expression in the various branches of government and in a "happy compromise," some of the strengths of the three forms of government are combined  at once. The proper balance of these elements depends on circumstance and can  be applied "in a thousand ways according to the temperament of the people."

Given the establishment of enlightened government, liberty and progress are further assured by a free press-the public voice. This is not only for the important watchdog purposes it serves. It also reflects a fundamental Enlightenment  premise that posits a harmony between matters of the mind and the interests of  society. To their mutual benefit, reason is allowed access to society. The hostility of politics to reason marks the barbarism of the past and is the hallmark of  despotism that would resist its humanizing influence. In contrast, openness to  reason is the very "essence of free countries." A free press helps establish and  maintain an informed and vigilant citizenry, upon which ultimate authority rests.  The vestiges of primitive thought and fear are eliminated through the spread of  reason and, with them, the violent behavior they often inspire. Technological  advances-the fruits of Enlightenment science-further communications among  the citizenry and eradicate backwardness. The exchange of ideas and goods is  facilitated, increasing the easy interactions among peoples and their common  ties. The people come to share a common purpose in the material advance of society and the defense of individual rights. It was thought that they would act  wisely, drawn to an elevated view of their self-interest by a free and responsible  press.

The success of the Enlightenment project in the advanced states of Europe makes it increasingly difficult for other countries to preserve themselves from its  influence. The ideas of the former are imported with their trade. This promotes  the unity of peoples that religions had formerly separated. There seems to be nothing in Enlightenment science that prevents the universal application of its  principles. Machiavelli sees Montesquieu as proposing England's experience as  "a universal panacea," given his statement that it has "the only practicable mode  of government given the ideas of modern civilization."

Notes

1. Montesquieu refers to Machiavelli as ''ce grand homme" in the The Spirit of the Laws VI 5. He is mentioned again at XXIX 19 in a shon chapter "Of Legislators." There   he is grouped with Aristotle, Plato, More, and Harrington. The tone of the chapter is critical. Passion and prejudice infect the minds of even the grandest lawgivers. Machiavelli  stands for criticism for being "full of his idol, the Duke of Valentinois."

2. Undoubtedly, there is poignancy to the fate that the real Machiavelli suffered and Joly gives it its due. The author of the "Memoir of Machiavelli" that introduces the Bohn  Library Edition of the Florentine's writings pushes this poignancy to a melodramatic extreme. He speaks of the return of the Medici after the fall of the Republic that Machiavelli served. A conspiracy against the Medici caused Machiavelli to fall under suspicion.

Fear and suspicion followed the secretary into retirement, and when in the course of the following year (1513), an extensive conspiracy   against the Medici was accidentally discovered, he was immediately arrested and put to the torture which was at that time indiscriminately employed under all Italian governments in examining persons accused of state crimes. Six shocks of the cord were inflicted on Machiavelli with fruitless cruelty, and not a word escaped him in the bitterness of his agony that could be wrested into a confession of guilt,  or serve as an accusation of others. Unable to convict him, they could  still torment; and, accordingly, buried in the depths of a loathsome  dungeon, his lacerated body closely bound with chains, and his mind  distracted by the cries of mercy and the degradation that reached him from every side, he was left to the long torture of solitude and suspense. Here also his fortitude remained unshaken, and his noble  power of patient endurance baffled the snares of his adversaries and  wearied their malignity.

The text continues in the same vein. lf this were not Machiavelli, the account might be worthy of entry into John Henry Newman's Lives of the Saints. We might paraphrase  what was once said about St. Neot, who is memorialized in the pages of Newman's book.  "This is all, and perhaps more than all" that is known about the "blessed" life of Machiavelli. See the "Memoir of Machiavelli" in The History of Florence Together with The  Prince and Various Other Historical Tracts, ed. H. B. Bohn (London: George Bell &  Sons, 1906) xiv.

3. What Albert Sorel asserts about Montesquieu accords with what Joly says here. Montesquieu "did not consider himself an orator" nor "suited to formal speech-making."  And this was perhaps linked to the disdain he felt, not for the law, for sure, but the practice of law as it was conducted in his time. I want to make the following point. It seems  that here, as elsewhere, Joly took pains in fleshing out even small details in the portraits  he fashioned of the two philosophers.

Montesquieu considered his bashfulness "the scourge of his life." He often put up with bores and the things they said in order to escape having discussion with them. Still,  this was the man that France was to make its "favorite." See Alber Sorel, Montesquieu, tr.  Melvile B. Anderson and Edward Flayfair Anderson (Port Washington, N.Y.: Kennikat  Press, 1969) 12ff. 

4. Machiavelli implies that the Encyclopedists as well as the author of The Persian Letters are kindred spirits belonging to the same "school" which others call "immoral." If  he is implying that the Persian Letters shocks certain proprieties, he might have also  cited, with even better reason, Montesquieu's Temple of Gnidos.

5. Jefferson and his American progeny share the same perspective: "the tree of liberty is watered by the blood of patriots," is it not? What we today in Asia call "people power"  is benignly viewed as helping history to bring more enlightened political and economic  arrangements to peoples victimized by rapacious and petty tyrants. Indeed, this violent  turmoil--even lapses of legality-are to be forgiven. They bespeak the changed character  of these peoples and their receptivity to new political developments. As Machiavelli cautions, though, things might not be so simple nor the end so happy.

6. A short period of years, can, of course, radically change the direction of history. Think only of 1914-1917. Who, standing at the cusp of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and basking in the optimism of that moment, could have predicted the catastrophes  to fall? This is a sufficient response to those today who see a global order benignly falling  into place. Extrapolating from statistics of trade and commerce, they mistakenly put economics before politics and therefore blind themselves to other less sanguine possibilities.  Who can so blithely believe that there are no more jokers in history's cards? Is it not  much more likely that, after the Cold War , the deck has just been reshuffled?

7. Montesquieu here gives voice to a common conception of Machiavelli, that is to say, that he can be explained by his times. He is a kind of artist, in perhaps the greatest  "age of art." Essentially, The Prince is his portrait of the times and it is painted in the  boldest and most lively colors. In chapter 9, I will argue why this interpretation of Machiavelli is inadequate. Meanwhile, what are we to make of the author of The Spirit of the  Laws in the movingly intimate way he concludes the Preface to his great work?

When I have seen what so many great men in France, in England, and in Germany, have said before me, I have been lost in admiration. But  I have not lost my courage. I have said with CoITeggio, "And I also am a painter."

Indeed, he too is an artist. And he painted on the broadest of canvases, it might be added. In the gallery of the '.greats," he also deserves recognition. Those who want to  delve deeper in Montesqueieu's views on art, especially Renaissance art, should consult  his Essay on Taste and Mes Pensees, esp. XII.

8. The case of Richard Nixon shows that, until most recently, it used to have the power of even removing presidents from power.

Chapter Two:  AN ELABORATION OF THE RESPECTIVE POLITICAL TEACHINGS

In the Fourth Dialogue, the central Dialogue of Part One, Machiavelli begins a critique of Montesquieuan political science as well as the deeper philosophic  and historic convictions upon which it is based. Machiavelli raises the key issues  that are the substance of their debate in the rest of this Part. This immediately  serves to further define the respective views of the two interlocutors as it ultimately deals in matters that reverberate throughout the rest of Joly's work.   According to Machiavelli, Montesquieu has failed to reckon with an "irresistible movement of history that tears societies today loose from their old traditions." This makes illusory any hopes of universalizing the experience of England and making the constitutional regime a "panacea" for all states. Within two  hundred years, the theories of the division of powers among the three branches  of government will be no more than "a memory," something '.antiquated and  obsolete" as arcane to men of the future as  obscure Aristotelean doctrines are to us today. [1]

Why Montesquieuan Thought Is Obsolete

Machiavelli, like Montesquieu, sees history as moving to a new world order. It may be likened to the momentous advance of modernity, the furthest reaches  of which are attained in the Enlightenment age that shapes and is shaped by  Montesquieu, over the order of the Middle Ages dominated by Aristotle. Implicitly, Machiavelli reverses the accusation of Montesquieu against Machiavellianism-that it is limited by a specific historic horizon. Speaking from a point of  view even more advanced than that of the Enlightenment's most iIlustrious  figure, Machiavelli sees the eternal truth of Machiavellianism once again vindicated in a new age of despots.

Machiavelli begins his attack with what Montesquieu says are longstanding reproaches against liberal government, voiced by reactionaries that benefited from the old order of things. Again, nothing much is new in what Machiavelli says. His is a standard critique of the liberal system. 

Machiavelli implies that the separation of powers system, which .'confines" three powers to distinct departments and balances them off against one another  in an intricate political mechanism, is overly abstract and perhaps a misapplication of a principle of physics to human realms. Strictly viewed, the balance of  power "ideal," if in fact achieved, would render government inoperative. Were  government to function "perfectly ," there would be nothing but exhausting  stalemates. The theoretical foundations of Montesquieu's constitution is in conflict with the vigor he also intended for a government that is designed to act in  the people's interest.

As Montesquieu explained his '.mixed regime," the institutions of government represent various social groups and interests, none of which is motivated  by the interest of the whole. The "balance of power" among such institutions is  inherently precarious, as it involves mutually antagonistic forces that, individually at least, seek their own play at the expense of the system's equilibrium. It is  as if the system would be plagued by inaction where it is not subject to dissolution.

In theory, the press serves to reestablish equilibrium in the system by counteracting the disintegrative forces of faction. It elevates discourse in speaking for  the common good. It sets the tone and standard of public discussion and forces  the competing interests at least to justify themselves in more disinterested terms.  In actual practice, Machiavelli charges, the press foments further discord by "discrediting" all authority. In effect, it gives "arms to all parties" and turns the public forum into an "arena."

According to Machiavelli, the operation of such a political system makes it most difficult to maintain peace and order among the competing interests and  segments of society. Dissolution is also threatened in a more fundamental way  by a more radical social cleavage. This separates those groups with a direct role  and clear stake in the prevailing order from those masses of people "whose poverty chains them to their work in the same way that slavery did in former times."  Montesquieu speaks of the great movement of history and the blessings it has  brought in its train. It has in fact resulted in the triumph of only a small minority, whose privileges, wrought by the chance workings of new social and economic  forces, are not appreciably different from those enjoyed by the nobility of medieval times, distinguished by birth.

For "huge numbers," the vaunted "rights" of the liberal order are only academic-"a bitter irony of fate," of which the law permits their ideal enjoyment  and necessity refuses their active exercise. "Parliamentary conventions" make  no difference to tangible happiness, which logically seeks outlet in a despotism  that can appease their real wants while satisfying their feelings of envy. According to Montesquieu, however, liberal society's declaration of rights, which Machiavelli sees as cruelly abstract for the majority of people, does have important  consequences that he fails to appreciate. It is of no little importance "for those  very people destined by birth to the most humble conditions" that they share in a common dignity by virtue of citizenship in such a society .Moral sentiments are  attached to the regime of liberty which recognizes the self-worth of individuals. Citizens there are "no less strongly" attached to such regimes by more material interests.

Machiavelli is simply wrong to liken the privileged of such a society to an "aristocracy of birth" and the lot of the proletariat to slavery. It is a far more  dynamic and fluid society than Machiavelli realizes where "the law recognizes no privileged classes and where careers are open to individual enterprise." The  "ideal" rights that Machiavelli criticizes have concrete consequences. The various fortunes of individuals are by and large a manifestation of their exercise and  a vindication of the protection that such a society affords the different faculties  of men.

Machiavelli sums up Montesquieu's arguments and gives a perfectly fine understanding of the design of his government. We come to realize that perhaps  Montesquieuan political science is "old hat" for Machiavelli. "On the surface, the society appears monarchical, but at bottom everything is democratic, for in  reality there are no barriers between classes and work is the means to all fortunes." The balance of power mechanism requires artfulness in its adjustment  that perhaps makes any close analogy with physics unfair. To counter the natural  strength of the popular element, the other elements must be reinforced to  achieve proper equilibrium. This involves certain property qualifications conferring electoral rights, using the power of opinion to back men of merit, and taking  advantage of the proper strengths of the corresponding powers-all to dilute and  counteract the power of the popular body. The prestige of grand manners and the  brilliance of superior rank is played up and respected. Tradition, the memory of  all great historical events, and the celebration of greatness, is guarded.

The Incipient Anarchy in Modern Principles

Having secured an admission from Montesquieu that he can at least under- stand thoughts he doesn't agree with, Machiavelli accuses Montesquieu of not  appreciating the full consequences of his own principles. These bring in their  train the reign of force and not the reign of reason he projects. In particular,  Machiavelli has in mind the principle of popular sovereignty. Adumbrated earlier in their discussion, such a notion of sovereignty was offered as an alternative  to the principle of "divine right" upon which rested the princely politics of Machiavelli's time. In broaching such a topic, Machiavelli attempts to make explicit a matter that goes to the heart of their discussion as well as The Spirit of  the Laws itself, which he believes is intentionally vague on this point.

The "prudent, politic Montesquieu" did not spell out the doctrine of popular sovereignty in The Spirit of the Laws. But, mimicking Montesquieu of only a  few moments ago, Machiavelli states that "certain things follow implicitly from  the principles" he set down there. Despite Montesquieu 's disavowal of any association with "radical reformers," the affinity of his doctrines with Rousseau's  Social Contract and revolutionary theory of the general will is unmistakable, at  least according to Machiavelli.

The French revolutionaries based themselves on such theories when they wrote that "a constitution can only be a free compact among equals." Inspired by  such thought, the people took direct possession of all powers that had been recognized as only ultimately and indirectly residing in them. The year 1793 demonstrates how the people asserted their sovereignty "by severing the head of the  king." Making a litter of all their "rights," they cast their lot, out of delirium and  weariness, to "the first soldier of fortune they came across."

Under the full sway of the principle of popular sovereignty, all the latent forces of the masses are marshaled, spelling "death" to parliamentary government. The intricate mechanism of the balance of power is too fragile and is  overwhelmed by an irresistible force that is not in its control. Deference to tradition and the respect for forms that is critical to the workings of enlightened government disappears in the Machiavellian portrait of the modern masses. Ominously, the renewed activation of their power, in a repeat of '93, augurs a more virulent anarchy as well as a more extreme form of despotism as the fate of  contemporary man.

Machiavelli says as much to Montesquieu in delineating the course of history in France since the principle of popular sovereignty made itself felt in the  Revolution. Aristocratic monarchy was in too flagrant contradiction with the  democratic thrust of history. It had to vanish in the "conflagration of 1830, as  the government of 1830, in its own right. ..." Machiavelli concludes his historic  discourse with a tantalizing allusion to the Revolution of 1848. The July Monarchy was attacked as a "pious fraud" in presenting itself as a popularly grounded  kingship. After a revolutionary moment, a brief return to republican government  was finally supplanted by the "democratic despotism" of the Empire that presented itself, as we shall see, as the authoritative fulfillment of popular will.

Machiavelli here seems to present a cyclical view of history as an alternative to Montesquieu's linear and progressive view. The "inevitable path" of nations  that have popular sovereignty as their animating principle is to engender a  demagoguery that leads to anarchy and finally to despotism. Since despotism is  barbarity to Montesquieu, the people, it seems, "return to barbarism via civilization"-a process that runs directly counter to the forces of history as Montesquieu sees them. 

Despotism is not only an eternal possibility .According to Machiavelli, it seems to be an inevitable occurrence. The popular excesses and licentiousness  that accompany the degeneration of popular rule demand a return to authoritarianism. The history of France manifests a cyclical passage through the extremes  of popular and despotic rule. Enlightenment politics, personified by Montesquieu, has perhaps only broadened out this cycle and temporarily slowed its  revolutionary turn toward despotism. But as the Dialogue augurs, this may finally lead to a precipitous return to a more profound and extensive tyranny.

From still other points of view, despotism is the only form of government that is appropriate to the social conditions of modern people. According to Machiavelli, ancient polities, above all, provide the proper soil for liberty. There,  citizen concerns came to the fore, as manual labor was assigned to slaves. The  fires of patriotism burned in ancient souls and found outlet in external war that  preserved internal peace in uniting all in a common enterprise of overriding  urgency and importance. The conflict that moderns experience between their  worldly and religious engagements was unknown to the ancients. The dictates of  morality were neither conflicting nor vague. [2] A civil religion, rich in ceremony, held sway over the minds and imaginations of men and reinforced their political  education. Self-rule was possible because a stern morality guaranteed against its  abuse.

Machiavelli sees despotism as the destiny of modern peoples because the social conditions that preserved liberty are currently absent. Christianity has tamed  the martial spirit and eradicated the institution of slavery, perhaps forever. Materialism and atheism have usurped its place and cosmopolitanism has replaced  patriotism. Liberty has existed even into the Christian era but in smaller, more  austere republics. The scale of modern society, moreover, is immense and open  to diverse influences that conflict with the dictates of citizen virtue. Politics  vacillates between impassioned fanaticism and cold indifference, both of which  can be exploited by the clever despot.

Material interests demonstrably do not attach people to liberty, as Montesquieu says. The dispossessed are motivated only by hatred and envy of the propertied, who resort to force to maintain themselves. Under such conditions, patriotism suffocates and "morality can no longer be guaranteed except by repressive  laws." Modern societies, "veritable colossuses with feet of clay," require extreme centralization where all movements of individuals can be minutely regulated. A return to Caesarism is in order, as Machiavelli ends his discussion with  a most provocative praise of administrative despotism as most fitting the requirements of the time.

When Machiavelli talks so authoritatively about the state of contemporary morals, Montesquieu wonders if he is speaking hypothetically. He remains convinced that a look to history would produce evidence decidedly on the side of his theories. In the previous Dialogue, Machiavelli spoke from the example of  France, bringing the beloved fatherland of Montesquieu to the fore. For the sake  of argument, they may continue to use France as the touchstone of their  conversation. [3]

Montesquieu is far from reluctant to agree, for it is precisely in France that the picture Machiavelli has drawn is least applicable. "The home of great ideas  and passions" leaves no room for the "sinister doctrines" of Machiavelli. Privy  to a new political doctrine, (of which more will be said later in discussing the ideological core of the Napoleonic revolution), Machiavelli would add that  France is perhaps not only noteworthy for a still vibrant legacy of ideas, it is also  "a field of experiment" devoted to political theories more ominous than imagined.

Such a cryptic illusion to new doctrines is beyond Montesquieu who can not conceive of an experiment advancing despotism that could take root in contemporary Europe. Even where pure monarchy has been preserved from the influences of liberal institutions, in Turkey and Russia, for example, we may detect,  at least in the "internal changes taking place in the heart" of this latter power,  "intimations of an approaching transformation." In the final analysis, the forces  for change favor the transformation of oriental despotism into liberal polities  and not the contrary process which, Machiavelli asserts, needs less than a century to work itself out fully.

The Historical Basis of Montesquieu's Optimism

Montesquieu states why he thinks such a prediction absurd. He imputes such gross errors to a mistaken conception of history, a way of thinking common to  the medieval horizon that still included Machiavelli's world. He warns Machiavelli against drawing false inferences from the use of certain historic analogies.  For Machiavelli, it seems, the course of French history from the anarchy following the French Revolution to the institution of the despotism of Napoleon I is  being repeated in contemporary France. Accordingly, the assault on the settlement of 1830 might be likened to that of 1793 for having failed to reconcile the  principle of monarchic legitimacy with popular liberty. Machiavelli's fondness  for such analogies stems from his cyclical view of history which seeks enlightened guidance for the present in the study of similar situations in the past.

According to Montesquieu, however, we "must beware of taking what is contingent for universal laws and of transforming what is particular to certain  times and places into general rules. Contrary to Machiavelli, each historical  situation is unique and specific to time and place. Despotism and force is not an  absolute historical necessity but more an "accident" in an historical process  beyond the comprehension of one whose understanding is essentially limited by the Middle Ages.

Despotism "has played a transitional role in history." The cyclical view of history can not account for a broader and more fundamental historical tendency  toward "progress" and perfection-what is truly inevitable and irreversible as "a  foreordained social law." For sure, despotism has occurred at times in the past  ''as a consequence of social upheavals." But it is impermissible to conclude from  this that it will definitively solve the "crises of modern times," as Machiavelli  sees them. Rather, the general tendency of history reveals our astonishing capacity to better our condition. Montesquieu has not been sufficiently impressed by  the proportions of the historic crisis that Machiavelli has intimated. As rational  beings, we have been granted powers commensurate to the evils we find and this  applies to the problems identified by Machiavelli as defining modern life.

Collectively, we are participants in a divine drama guided by "Eternal wisdom," which reveals itself in history through the thought of the "great historic  thinker." The Montesquieuan teaching holds to an idealist, progressive view of  history. Ultimately, its movement is a necessary consequence of the movement  in ideas, which are made concrete in the political world as they are "translated  into fact." His essential optimism can be traced to the powers of reason and its  capacity to shape history. It is based on a faith in the working out of a plan of an  "Eternal Wisdom" that providentially guides the destiny of man. Indeed, Montesquieu sees himself as a key figure in the unfolding historic drama as the  thinker who stands at the pinnacle of the Enlightenment. It is his theories-  "translated into fact"-that define the modern epoch as the era of constitutional  government, bringing an end to the era of princely politics.

Machiavelli implies that Montesquieu is overly optimistic about the powers of reason to change the limits that define our condition. A society may in fact  survive a certain crisis but one day it must "die." Political regimes, too, are  mortal and subject to life cycles similar to that of man. It therefore follows that  infinite progress and indeed perfection are beyond the possible. We are limited  by a more fundamental reality that is Machiavelli's guide in his efforts to pro-  pound a truly realistic teaching-one that discounts any reliance on "faith," even  in the secularized way it is rendered in Montesquieu's teaching.

Machiavelli's short but poignant reminder of the mortality of all human things leaves Montesquieu nonplussed. He once again warns against placing oneself at "the extreme," in the manner of Machiavelli, who takes political crisis  as the starting point of his theories. Moreover, he seizes upon the "organic"  analogy of Machiavelli to elaborate upon his view of the historic process. Ac-  cording to Montesquieu, "societies never die in the process of generation." The  "death" of societies is only apparent; their vital forces give rise to more sturdy  progeny before they pass from existence. "In this way, the various peoples of  Europe have been successively transformed from a feudal to a monarchic system  and from a pure monarchy to a constitutional regime."

One can not derive valid maxims from "analogies" between such epochs be- cause, no matter how related in certain particulars, they each have their own  essential personality or character. Machiavelli seems to equate all epochs and this flies in the face of historic diversity as well as a more fundamental tendency  toward progress. In sum, the demands for order that can be satisfied at one moment only by despotism do not hold in the context of later epochs. Despotism,  where relevant to the historic process, does not hold in the less than extreme  situation, nor, certainly, in the context of the present time. 

Montesuieu claims to catch Machiavelli in a contradiction. How can Machiavelli, who posits the eternal necessity for despotism, praise liberty "in certain times and places?" Montesquieu's praise of liberty is without qualification.  Breathing the air of liberty, whether in ancient or modern times, strengthens the  soul and elevates the character of citizens. Liberty is not a poison for political  life but its strongest regimen. Contrary to Machiavelli, then, despotism is not a  historical necessity, but a transitional phase, an evanescent moment in the historical process. On the other hand, liberty is not only appropriate to certain brief  moments in ancient and some modem times, but precisely to contemporary  times, where the institutional operation of government is specifically designed to  secure its blessings as its chief end.

With Montesquieu, we might wonder at the Florentine's inconsistency as he acknowledges his interlocutor's deft sallies. His position as to despotism, qualified by a praise of liberty, is put to question. At this point, he changes the conversation once again to the topic of popular sovereignty, the full thrust of which he feels Montesquieu is escaping by the tangential matters they are now considering. Once again, however, the question of the "real" Machiavelli presents  itself, especially with regard to liberty.

Machiavelli confesses he is anxious to see how the "sober" Montesquieu will deal with the principle of popular sovereignty, a "specter" that haunts his theories. He asks point blank and in accusatorial tones whether or not it is part of his  system: "Do you or do you not accept it?" For reasons that shortly will become clear, Montesquieu admits that he can not answer such a question "posed in such terms." But before answering, he would like to remind Machiavelli of his writings and the character of his mission. Being a "philosopher who proceeded so  prudently in his quest for the truth," he takes great umbrage with a former accusation leveled by Machiavelli that associates his name with the "iniquities of the  French Revolution."

How Machiavelli understands that great upheaval is key to his thinking about the prospects for despotism. By implication, the historical cycle that saw  the popular cause degenerate into Napoleonic despotism is being repeated in  France. It is interesting to note that Montesquieu asserts the centrality of those very same events to his own political theories. "I saw into all the practical consequences" that would emerge from this event. Fully conscious of a new Napoleonic Empire, Machiavelli has a fundamentally different perspective from Montesquieu, who saw in his science the definitive antidote to revolutionary  excesses. [4]

The Revolution & Montesquieu's Constructive Role in History

According to Montesquieu, the case of the French Revolution is the clearest vindication of his theories in demonstrating the preeminent role of reason in  history. In his view, the French Revolution was a transitional phase in the historic process that, no matter how violent or despotic, served "to sweep away the  ancient forms of monarchical government." But "while imprudent innovators  directly attacked the foundations of authority and unknowingly prepared a momentous catastrophe," Montesquieu single-mindedly applied himself "to the  study of free governments to discover the fundamental principles upon which  they rest." He was acting more in the capacity of "statesman" than "philosopher" in seeking to teach his country how to govern itself rather than "calling  into question the very principle of authority."

The task that Montesquieu gave himself was constructive, not destructive. Though both apparently are historically necessary, it is the constructive task that  endures, at least according to the optimistic view of Montesquieu. The moment  that follows the French Revolution sets for Montesquieu a different historic  project in a different historic context, shaped by different needs and circumstances. The principle of popular sovereignty is legitimately voiced in the moment "of intellectual ferment" that prepared the revolution and opened the way  for Montesquieu's teaching. However, the direct application of that principle in  the context of the ordinary operations of government would be tantamount to  social and political dynamite.

Indeed, if political life and liberty are to endure, "calling into question the very principle of authority" must be deflected and popular will moderated by  measures requisite to stability. This is why Montesquieu is so circumspect in answering Machiavelli's blunt question. The liberty of which Montesquieu  speaks is an "ordered liberty" and his institutions are designed to secure its  blessings.

Montesquieu prefers the term "national sovereignty" to "popular sovereignty" to designate the principle that informs his government. "National sovereignty" comprehends the existence of groups, including "the more enlightened classes of society  ," which deserve protection for the contribution they uniquely bring to a diverse, productive, and plural nation. According to .'this idea," sovereignty is not determined by direct recourse to the authority of the people. This is the politics of the French Revolution that leads to violent disorder. What is involved here is a .'crucial distinction" between a "pure democracy and one that is representative."

In Montesquieu's understanding, the people's will is refined by representation. Lawmakers are insulated from the immediate pressures of the people and  are given an opportunity to resolve the interests of competing groups from  broader and more informed perspectives. While the franchise assures the people  that their representatives will be responsive to their particular interests, a too  frequent recourse to elections would impinge upon the freedom of representatives to pursue a greater collective good that alone can dissolve more debilitating  parochial conflicts.

Representation allows for the extension of republican regimes. This gives to such societies a character different from that envisioned by Rousseau and from  that attained in ancient polities. The very size of such regimes, embracing myriad social groupings, is an obstacle to despotic ambitions that would be hard pressed to centralize and control such disparate elements. Furthermore, a certain  moderation is brought to the law-making process where the emphasis is put  upon the art of compromise between groups and coalition building to achieve  the consensus that majority rule requires. The real challenge to Machiavelli is to  establish despotism in just such a regime-a large, modern nation, with representative institutions.

The Restraining Function of Religion

Moreover, even the notion of "national sovereignty" is not absolute but only "relative." An understanding of sovereignty that recognizes only human authority is a "profoundly subversive idea" likened to the "materialistic and atheistic  doctrine that set the French Revolution on its bloody course." According to  Montesquieu, "it's not quite correct to say that nations are absolute masters of  their destinies, for their sovereign master is God Himself, and they can never be beyond His power." If they did indeed possess absolute sovereignty, in principle  they could do anything, including what transgresses God's eternal design and  justice. "Who would dare go so far?"

We know already that Montesquieu is at least equally opposed to the contrary principle-divine right. This is "no less a deadly principle" leading through  obscurantism to the same conclusion-despotism. However, in contrast to the  febrile societies that issue from the notion of popular sovereignty, "divine right"  logically favors societies such as that of India. The people there are separated  into castes and turned into a "herd of slaves," led "by the hand of priests and trembling under the rod of the master." It cannot be otherwise when the sovereign "is the very representative of God on earth," having "complete power over  the human beings under his sway."

According to Montesquieu, "furious partisan conflict" has been waged over the legitimacy of these two extreme positions. "Some cry: no divine authority; others: no human authority!" yet, Montesquieu himself ventures to side with  neither camp in an attempt to moderate the deepest source of party strife in  modern regimes. He aligns himself with a "Supreme Providence" which places the real truth "between a divine right that does not include man in its considerations and a human right that does not include God." He concludes: "nations, like  individuals, are free in the hands of God." That is, "they possess all rights and  all powers provided they are exercised in accord with the rules of eternal justice."

Montesquieu's formulation in this regard is curious. However, his endeavor to preserve the vitality of the tension between the realms of divine and human  authority relies on logic similar to what informs his division of power theory.  Moreover, as we shall make clear later on, the religious question it raises from  the political point of view touches perhaps the most fundamental level of Joly's  work and the Machiavellian revolution that follows in succeeding parts of the Dialogue.

According to the position Montesquieu stakes out, there are clear moral limitations to the expression of popular will, beyond any institutional safeguards.  Legitimacy seems to exist only in recognition of the principles of both divine  and human authority, without admitting to one exclusively. To submit entirely to  divine authority effectively entails the submission to a vicar of God. This brings  about the capitulation of personal autonomy and puts our political rights in jeopardy. To accede solely to human authority, as expressed in the radical notion of  popular sovereignty, would by a different path culminate in despotic rule, necessary to restore order and to carry out popular dictates. This leads to outrages that  God condemns. It reduces the civilizing influences of His commandments and  loosens the hold of the universal claims of conscience, where, Montesquieu  earlier claimed, is found the source of all morality and law.

Montesquieu clearly intends to leave a rather broad scope for permissible human action, while attacking the extreme positions of those that feed party  strife and seek tyrannical means to implement their policies. The one group may  be designated the party of reaction for adhering to principles, discredited by  modern science, that find their greatest influence in former eras. They are the  ones who shout: "no human authority!" They are opposed in turn by by another group, the revolutionary party of secular thought that shouts: "no divine authority!" This group would eradicate all vestiges of religious influence, oblivious to  its positive social benefits and the deeper levels of truth it addresses.

The Montesquiean position clearly calls for the overthrow of tyrannical power, whether it is the priest or the politician who wields it, the ayatollah or the  shah, as it were. But short of wide extremes and manifest abuses from these  quarters, toleration is appropriate. This is in recognition of the inexact and flexible lines of worldly and other-worldly authority and the sense of the importance  of each to a moderate politics and a civil existence. Speaking as a "practical  legislator," as "a statesman more than philosopher," and as "a jurist more than a  theologian," Montesquieu tries to compromise the differences between parties  by encouraging a politic sense of toleration. This serves a dual purpose. It conduces to a forebearing temperament appropriate to liberty and a plural nation  while it also counters moral fanaticism, whether bred from religion or the claims  of secularism.

Machiavelli had characterized the souls of ancient men as steeped in the severe virtues that preserved liberty and an independent polis. Such stout virtues  were rigorously guarded in a closed society supported by impressive religious  convictions. The conflicts between the claims of religion and politics either did  not exist in the polis as today or were greatly mitigated. Joly's Montesquieu  implies that in the modern soul the universal and dual claims of an earthly and  otherworldly morality work to broaden the moral horizon and soften sensibilities. At the same time, the tension between worldly and heavenly authority in  modem regimes restrains the tyrannical tendencies emanating from one source  or the other as they affect politics.

Joly's Montesquieu suggests that the countervailing powers he wants to erect in his system of government and within society are appropriate to the two most  fundamental sources of authority, whose vital tension he wants to preserve. This reflects the spirit of the liberal regime in its suspicion of authority, per se, which,  no matter what the source, requires checks and balances. It also prepares us for  the most radical feature of Machiavelli ' s politics as it is described in the rest of  the Dialogue.

We are anticipating ourselves somewhat when we describe his revolution as aiming at the merging of the sources of both secular and religious authority, in a  single person, a new ruler, who is as much a religious as a political founder. This  thoroughly modern prince seeks to eradicate the fundamental source of party  strife by responding to the claims of both reactionaries and secularists. Far from  a thinker limited by the horizon of the Middle Ages, Machiavelli will call for a  new political religion that answers to the deep psychological needs of individuals in the party of reaction as it provides the solid basis for a new social order.  Fully consistent with certain strains of modern thought, this new understanding  of things will win the party of revolution to the prince's side in the advance of a  social agenda they favor. In a new "civil religion," unity is restored to the soul of modern man as it existed in antiquity, but at the price of a new and potentially  universal form of despotism that remains our task to describe more fully later  on.

Faced with the ambiguities of Montesquieu's position, Machiavelli declares that he would like to come to some definite conclusions and "to determine exactly what follows" from what Montesquieu just said about the authority of God  over men. Machiavelli exposes the heterodox character of Montesquieu's position by citing written authority: According to Biblical text, "God makes kings."  Nothing could be more clearly contrary to the Montesquieuan position or more  succinct in supporting "divine right."

Montesquieu accuses Machiavelli of casuistry, perfectly in keeping with parts of The Prince. Contrary to Machiavelli, he appeals to logic and cites other  Biblical text to make his case. The political sovereignty that God sanctions as  part of His design of things does not extend to any and all sovereigns, who are  charged with reigning according to His design and ruling according to His laws.  It is not, as Machiavelli implies, that the fact of rule is sufficient for God's investiture. "God did not will that the most sacrilegious reigns could invoke His  sanction and that the vilest tyrannies could claim His ordination." Indeed, if it  were as Machiavelli claims, "we would have to bow down before Nero as well  as Titus, before Caligula as well as Vespasian." Though Machiavelli may well return Montesquieu's charge of bending Scripture to his own advantage, he does  not choose to pursue such a tack.

Popular Sovereignty, Again

Machiavelli abstracts from Montesquieuan political science as it has been described for him. He is not interested in those forms of government that give  most effective determination of national will, according to time and place, but what in a more fundamental way gives any form of government its legitimacy.  For the moment, he would like to force Montesquieu to "the extreme situation"  he so prudently avoids by considering how in fact legitimate human authority comes into being. He finally has Montesquieu admit that it is "the free will of  the people" that "gives rise to sovereign power." In the final analysis, even in  kingships, it is the people who ultimately dispose of sovereignty.

In words reminiscent of the American Declaration of Independence, to hold otherwise would be an outrage against "a truth of pure common sense," self-evident at least for right-thinking or enlightened men, however foreign to one  who lived so close to the Middle Ages. Everywhere that sovereign power is  established justly, that is, "other than by invasion or conquest," it came into  being by "the free will of the people" by "means of election." This holds for ancient times as well as the Middle Ages and includes the case of France where,  as with kingships elsewhere, heredity became the substitute for election-a  legitimate conferral of authority by the people in deference to tradition and the  brilliant services of a single family.

In other words, government is rightly established by the consent of the governed, by election or tacitly. It is a "fact" to which we constantly return in revolutionary times and which is always invoked for the "consecration" of new powers. According to Montesquieu, "consent" is the fundamental principle of  legitimacy, prior and preexisting. But unlike former times, it "has been explicitly  recognized only recently in certain constitutions of modem states."

While rightful authority may take any form of government congruent with the will of the people and their particular circumstances, modern regimes informed by enlightened institutions clearly exhibit an appreciable advance over former times. Government is not so liable to abuse in a broadly representative  regime where the principle of consent is more explicitly realized in the ordinary  operations of government. The people need not, as in former times, resort to  revolution for the redress of grievances that can be corrected through the due  process of law.

According to Machiavelli, if the people have a right to establish the form of government that they want, then there is nothing that prevents them from changing it. Therefore, just as they may choose their masters, they may, by caprice,  overthrow them. It is not a regime of order and liberty that follows from such  doctrines as much as "an era marked by continual revolutions." Machiavelli  accuses Montesquieu of assuming the infallibility of the people in their choice of  both good government and political institutions. But are not the people, being  mere mortals, "prone to passion, error, and injustice?"

In denying the validity of consent, as expounded by Montesquieu, Machiavelli in turn is accused of denying the universal experience of history and what can be discerned as the basis for all legitimate revolutions and governments. The  perversity of such a position and the denial of a "fact" that "could not have been  otherwise since time immemorial," effectively returns man to the situation of  accepting the most odious governments as his fated dispensation.

According to Montesquieu, oblivious to the events of 1848, an era of revolution is not forthcoming. The people may in fact legitimately overthrow their  governments. But such a right is perhaps more important in reserve than in actual exercise. Revolutions will not be undertaken for light and transient reasons  but only "in extreme cases and for just cause." Self-interest and morality, it  seems, militate against an easy turn to such a course. Yet, the legitimate invocation of such a right keeps leaders properly chastened so as to obviate the necessity of its actual exercise.

Moreover, we need not await God's judgment to pass on our transgressions. A breach of justice on a matter so consequential is not without its own punishment. "They will be punished with the scourge of discord, anarchy, and despotism itself." Yet, in mentioning "despotism," Montesquieu does not recognize it  as the inevitable upshot of the right to revolution. Such an inference, drawn by  Machiavelli, is really not "worthy" of his "great intelligence." As Montesquieu stated earlier, one must not confuse "the right with an abuse that mayor may not result from its exercise."

In fact, "God has granted peoples neither the power nor the will to change so radically those forms of government essential to their existence." The people as a whole are slow and obstinate and this favors conservatism and tradition. The  violent overthrow of the ancient traditions and institutions that are integral to their definition as a people is exceptional. Montesquieu once again reverts to an  organic metaphor to seal his point. "In political societies, as with all organic  beings, the very nature of things limits the range of freedom."

Moreover, in addition to the natural conservatism of men are historic forces that militate against the possibility of a return to "an era marked by continual  revolutions." According to Montesquieu, the influence of modern ideas will make men even less disposed to violence and revolution. The modern character  has softened for various reasons, not least of which is the influence of industrial production. This has changed the mode of acquisition from slavery and warfare to a common enterprise that multiplies the ties of society in all directions as it  shatters its rigid stratification. It is difficult to conceive a centralized despotism  that could succeed in controlling such a diverse and complex social organization. The temper of the times could not be more remote from the force and fear  that traditionally characterized regimes. According to Montesquieu, the proper  soil for liberty is not Athens or Rome but the modern age, previously condemned by Machiavelli for its materialism and atheism. Montesquieu endeavors  to show that these are superficial critiques and obscure more fundamental truths about the character of modern industrial society .

Modern Materialism, Rightly Understood

In modern societies, what may contemptuously be dismissed as "materialistic" is really not at all at odds with liberty. The productive wealth of a nation is  crucially linked to economic liberty which, in turn, is crucially linked to political  liberty. Montesquieu says that "industry can not do without liberty and is itself only a manifestation of liberty." Furthermore, economic liberty necessarily gives  rise to political liberty, so that it can be said that the most advanced industrial  societies are also the freest." [5]

The free scope that is allowed economic activity is essential to maximize productivity. A rich and prosperous society not only accords with the desires of  individual citizens, including the working class, but with the desires of the government. The rulers and ruled share a common interest in preserving a free and  vital private sphere as the condition of abundance. Machiavelli vastly overstates  the revolutionary potential of the working classes, whose self-interest is bound  to maintaining the order by which they themselves can better their lot. "Industry  is the archenemy of revolutions, for without social order, it perishes and the vital  sap that sustains modern peoples is halted."

Moreover, the society Montesquieu is describing, far from being atheistic, is  advancing ideas the source of which lies in the .Christian faith. According to  Montesquieu, "societies that live by means of work, exchange, and credit are  essentially Christian, for all such powerful and varied forms of industry are basically applications of several great moral ideas derived from Christianity"-  despite all appearances to the contrary. The anathema placed on slavery sterns  from the Christian recognition of man's essential equality before God. This led  to new social developments and required a fundamentally different arrangement  of productive forces than what obtained in the rigidly stratified and martial city-states of antiquity.

Several "great moral ideas stemming from Christianity are evident in even more subtle ways in such regimes. Once thought perilous to the soul, enterprise became elevated in Christianity as it evolved through its Protestant variant. The  worldly duties of the elect found their proper virtues in diligence, thrift, sobriety,  and prudence-the same traits that promised commercial success and are given  full scope for development in societies that live by '-work, exchange, and  credit." Borrowing from an organic metaphor that appears in the Fifth Dialogue,  we might say that the Christian religion spawns the capitalist ethos. But the former continues to endow the latter with its vital force even as the parent creed  seems to expire. In the same Dialogue, Montesquieu had claimed that there  existed a certain tension between our worldly and otherworldly responsibilities  that served to restrain each other's extremist tendencies. He now argues that they also mutually reinforce each other in a moral sphere that they have come to share.

With the end of the Sixth Dialogue, Machiavelli has finally succeeded in distilling the essence of Montesquieu's teaching. Popular sovereignty, understood  as the consent of the governed, comes to light as the only just basis of government. It is discovered at the bottom of all revolutions as a fundamental right  upon which all legitimate forms of government are erected. At. the same time, Machiavelli has left undisturbed his interlocutor's opinion of himself and his  infamous teachings. He poses as the defender of divine right and reinforces the  image of a man born at the dawn of modernity but still tainted by the influence  of the Middle Ages.

Dramatically, the Sixth Dialogue ends by setting down the conditions for the their "wager." Montesquieu cedes nothing to his interlocutor and Machiavelli  demands no more. He must establish despotism in the most advanced and  enlightened state, as Montesquieu has in fact described it.

The Sixth Dialogue, which seems to end inconclusively insofar as the theoretical dispute goes, in fact sets the stage for the rest of the conversation. Montesquieu sees himself as the architect of a political order that has set man on the path of liberation. Machiavelli is about to introduce new modes and orders. As  he does, Montesquieu's confidence in himself and the constitutional era over which he presides disintegrates. He is forced to abandon his stereotyped view of  the Florentine and to confront his teaching again, this time, presumably, with the  deadly seriousness it deserves.

Notes

1. Machiavelli claims that Montesquieu has been captivated or seduced by England and has universalized its particular experience. Later, in the face of Machiavelli's cyclical view of history, Montesquieu cautions against letting one era or historic example guide  our understanding of present reality .

2. The best treatment of the point Machiavelli here makes in fact is made by Montesquieu in his discussion of education and his comparison of ancients and moderns on this  score. See Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws IV 4. Private education in ancient times  reinforced public or civic education. In modern times, however, private education, or the education received from one's family, in being dominated by religion, leads in conflicting  directions from what was required by civic education.

3. France is described as the most civilized nation in Europe and least amenable to the portrait of modem times drawn by Machiavelli. Before the century ends, France will  have returned to conditions similar to oriental despotisms, according to Machiavelli.

4. The Fifth Dialogue concludes the discussion of the subject of popular sovereignty and it contains the most frequent references to religious themes. In the Montesquieuan scheme of things, religion is the ultimate safeguard for preventing an abuse of the people's right to sovereignty. Much win be said about this later.

5. Montesquieu offers his portrait of modern times as a definitive response to that offered by Machiavelli in the Fourth dialogue. This effectively ends the debate in Part One.  In the next dialogue, the last of this part, Machiavelli gives in rapid outline a realistic  portrait of modem times and the wholly new form of despotism that exists in France. At  the end of the Dialogue as a whole, he gives in "rapid outline" a sketch of Napoleon Ill.  Parenthetically, the coupling of economic development with political liberty is accepted as a "truism" today. Things may be more complicated than this. Political liberty  may be a rarer plant than commonly thought. It also needs constant attention and nurturing.

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