Liberty not being a fruit of all climates, is not within the reach of all peoples.

The more this principle, laid down by Montesquieu, is considered, the more its truth is felt;

the more it is combated, the more chance is given to confirm it by new proofs.

 In all the governments that there are, the public person consumes without producing.

Whence then does it get what it consumes?

From the labour of its members.

The necessities of the public are supplied out of the superfluities of individuals.

It follows that the civil State can subsist only so long as men's labour brings them a return greater than their needs.

 The amount of this excess is not the same in all countries.

In some it is considerable, in others middling, in yet others nil, in some even negative.

The relation of product to subsistence depends on the fertility of the climate, on the sort of labour the land demands, on the nature of its products, on the strength of its inhabitants, on the greater or less consumption they find necessary, and on several further considerations of which the whole relation is made up.

 On the other side, all governments are not of the same nature: some are less voracious than others, and the differences between them are based on this second principle, that the further from their source the public contributions are removed, the more burdensome they become.

 The charge should be measured not by the amount of the impositions, but by the path they have to travel in order to get back to those from whom they came.

When the circulation is prompt and well-established, it does not matter whether much or little is paid;

the people is always rich and, financially speaking, all is well.

On the contrary, however little the people gives, if that little does not return to it, it is soon exhausted by giving continually: the State is then never rich, and the people is always a people of beggars.

 It follows that, the more the distance between people and government increases, the more burdensome tribute becomes: thus, in a democracy, the people bears the least charge;

in an aristocracy, a greater charge;

and, in monarchy, the weight becomes heaviest.

Monarchy therefore suits only wealthy nations;

aristocracy, States of middling size and wealth;

and democracy, States that are small and poor.

 In fact, the more we reflect, the more we find the difference between free and monarchical States to be this: in the former, everything is used for the public advantage;

in the latter, the public forces and those of individuals are affected by each other, and either increases as the other grows weak;

finally, instead of governing subjects to make them happy, despotism makes them wretched in order to govern them.

 We find then, in every climate, natural causes according to which the form of government which it requires can be assigned, and we can even say what sort of inhabitants it should have.

 Unfriendly and barren lands, where the product does;

not repay the labour, should remain desert and uncultivated, or peopled only by savages;

lands where men's labour brings in no more than the exact minimum necessary to subsistence should be inhabited by barbarous peoples: in such places all polity is impossible.

Lands where the surplus of product over labour is only middling are suitable for free peoples;

those in which the soil is abundant and fertile and gives a great product for a little labour call for monarchical government, in order that the surplus of superfluities among the subjects may be consumed by the luxury of the prince: for it is better for this excess to be absorbed by the government than dissipated among the individuals.

I am aware that there are exceptions;

but these exceptions themselves confirm the rule, in that sooner or later they produce revolutions which restore things to the natural order.

 General laws should always be distinguished from individual causes that may modify their effects.

If all the South were covered with Republics and all the North with despotic States, it would be none the less true that, in point of climate, despotism is suitable to hot countries, barbarism to cold countries, and good polity to temperate regions.

I see also that, the principle being granted, there may be disputes on its application;

it may be said that there are cold countries that are very fertile, and tropical countries that are very unproductive.

But this difficulty exists only for those who do not consider the question in all its aspects.

We must, as I have already said, take labour, strength, consumption, etc., into account.

 Take two tracts of equal extent, one of which brings in five and the other ten.

If the inhabitants of the first consume four and those of the second nine, the surplus of the first product will be a fifth and that of the second a tenth.

The ratio of these two surpluses will then be inverse to that of the products, and the tract which produces only five will give a surplus double that of the tract which produces ten.

 But there is no question of a double product, and I think no one would put the fertility of cold countries, as a general rule, on an equality with that of hot ones.

Let us, however, suppose this equality to exist: let us, if you will, regard England as on the same level as Sicily, and Poland as Egypt—further south, we shall have Africa and the Indies; further north, nothing at all.

To get this equality of product, what a difference there must be in tillage: in Sicily, there is only need to scratch the ground;

in England, how men must toil!

But, where more hands are needed to get the same product, the superfluity must necessarily be less.

 Consider, besides, that the same number of men consume much less in hot countries.

The climate requires sobriety for the sake of health;

and Europeans who try to live there as they would at home all perish of dysentery and indigestion.

“We are,” says Chardin, “carnivorous animals, wolves, in comparison with the Asiatics.

Some attribute the sobriety of the Persians to the fact that their country is less cultivated;

but it is my belief that their country abounds less in commodities because the inhabitants need less.

If their frugality,” he goes on, “were the effect of the nakedness of the land, only the poor would eat little;

but everybody does so.

Again, less or more would be eaten in various provinces, according to the land's fertility;

but the same sobriety is found throughout the kingdom.

They are very proud of their manner of life, saying that you have only to look at their hue to recognise how far it excels that of the Christians.

In fact, the Persians are of an even hue;

their skins are fair, fine and smooth;

while the hue of their subjects, the Armenians, who live after the European fashion, is rough and blotchy, and their bodies are gross and unwieldy.”

 The nearer you get to the equator, the less people live on.

Meat they hardly touch; rice, maize, curcur, millet and cassava are their ordinary food.

There are in the Indies millions of men whose subsistence does not cost a halfpenny a day.

Even in Europe we find considerable differences of appetite between Northern and Southern peoples.

A Spaniard will live for a week on a German's dinner.

In the countries in which men are more voracious, luxury therefore turns in the direction of consumption.

In England, luxury appears in a well-filled table;

in Italy, you feast on sugar and flowers.

 Luxury in clothes shows similar differences.

In climates in which the changes of season are prompt and violent, men have better and simpler clothes;

where they clothe themselves only for adornment, what is striking is more thought of than what is useful;

clothes themselves are then a luxury.

At Naples, you may see daily walking in the Pausilippeum men in gold-embroidered upper garments and nothing else.

It is the same with buildings;

magnificence is the sole consideration where there is nothing to fear from the air.

In Paris and London, you desire to be lodged warmly and comfortably;

in Madrid, you have superb salons, but not a window that closes, and you go to bed in a mere hole.

 In hot countries foods are much more substantial and succulent;

and the third difference cannot but have an influence on the second.

Why are so many vegetables eaten in Italy? Because there they are good, nutritious and excellent in taste.

In France, where they are nourished only on water, they are far from nutritious and are thought nothing of at table.

They take up all the same no less ground, and cost at least as much pains to cultivate.

It is a proved fact that the wheat of Barbary, in other respects inferior to that of France, yields much more flour, and that the wheat of France in turn yields more than that of northern countries;

from which it may be inferred that a like gradation in the same direction, from equator to pole, is found generally.

But is it not an obvious disadvantage for an equal product to contain less nourishment?

 To all these points may be added another, which at once depends on and strengthens them.

Hot countries need inhabitants less than cold countries, and can support more of them.

There is thus a double surplus, which is all to the advantage of despotism.

The greater the territory occupied by a fixed number of inhabitants, the more difficult revolt becomes, because rapid or secret concerted action is impossible, and the government can easily unmask projects and cut communications;

but the more a numerous people is gathered together, the less can the government usurp the Sovereign's place: the people's leaders can deliberate as safely in their houses as the prince in council, and the crowd gathers as rapidly in the squares as the prince's troops in their quarters.

The advantage of tyrannical government therefore lies in acting at great distances.

With the help of the rallying-points it establishes, its strength, like that of the lever, grows with distance.

The strength of the people, on the other hand, acts only when concentrated: when spread abroad, it evaporates and is lost, like powder scattered on the ground, which catches fire only grain by grain.

The least populous countries are thus the fittest for tyranny: fierce animals reign only in deserts.