to be worked possess the knowledge and skill necessary for its
management. On the other hand, neither are those who speak of
institutions as if they were a kind of living organisms really the
political fatalists they give themselves out to be. They do not
pretend that mankind have absolutely no range of choice as to the
government they will live under, or that a consideration of the
consequences which flow from different forms of polity is no element
at all in deciding which of them should be preferred. But though
each side greatly exaggerates its own theory, out of opposition to the
other, and no one holds without modification to either, the two
doctrines correspond to a deep-seated difference between two modes
of thought; and though it is evident that neither of these is entirely
in the right, yet it being equally evident that neither is wholly in
the wrong, we must endeavour to get down to what is at the root of
each, and avail ourselves of the amount of truth which exists in
either.

  Let us remember, then, in the first place, that political
institutions (however the proposition may be at times ignored) are the
work of men; owe their origin and their whole existence to human will.
Men did not wake on a summer morning and find them sprung up.
Neither do they resemble trees, which, once planted, "are aye growing"
while men "are sleeping." In every stage of their existence they are
made what they are by human voluntary agency. Like all things,
therefore, which are made by men, they may be either well or ill made;
judgment and skill may have been exercised in their production, or the
reverse of these. And again, if a people have omitted, or from outward
pressure have not had it in their power, to give themselves a
constitution by the tentative process of applying a corrective to each
evil as it arose, or as the sufferers gained strength to resist it,
this retardation of political progress is no doubt a great
disadvantage to them, but it does not prove that what has been found
good for others would not have been good also for them, and will not
be so still when they think fit to adopt it.

  On the other hand, it is also to be borne in mind that political
machinery does not act of itself. As it is first made, so it has to be
worked, by men, and even by ordinary men. It needs, not their simple
acquiescence, but their active participation; and must be adjusted
to the capacities and qualities of such men as are available. This
implies three conditions. The people for whom the form of government
is intended must be willing to accept it; or at least not so unwilling
as to oppose an insurmountable obstacle to its establishment. They
must be willing and able to do what is necessary to keep it
standing. And they must be willing and able to do what it requires
of them to enable it to fulfil its purposes. The word "do" is to be
understood as including forbearances as well as acts. They must be
capable of fulfilling the conditions of action, and the conditions
of self-restraint, which are necessary either for keeping the
established polity in existence, or for enabling it to achieve the
ends, its conduciveness to which forms its recommendation.

  The failure of any of these conditions renders a form of government,
whatever favourable promise it may otherwise hold out, unsuitable to
the particular case.

  The first obstacle, the repugnance of the people to the particular
form of government, needs little illustration, because it never can in
theory have been overlooked. The case is of perpetual occurrence.
Nothing but foreign force would induce a tribe of North American
Indians to submit to the restraints of a regular and civilised
government. The same might have been said, though somewhat less
absolutely, of the barbarians who overran the Roman Empire. It
required centuries of time, and an entire change of circumstances,
to discipline them into regular obedience even to their own leaders,
when not actually serving under their banner. There are nations who
will not voluntarily submit to any government but that of certain
families, which have from time immemorial had the privilege of
supplying them with chiefs. Some nations could not, except by
foreign conquest, be made to endure a monarchy; others are equally
averse to a republic. The hindrance often amounts, for the time being,
to impracticability.

  But there are also cases in which, though not averse to a form of
government- possibly even desiring it- a people may be unwilling or
unable to fulfil its conditions. They may be incapable of fulfilling
such of them as are necessary to keep the government even in nominal
existence. Thus a people may prefer a free government, but if, from
indolence, or carelessness, or cowardice, or want of public spirit,
they are unequal to the exertions necessary for preserving it; if they
will not fight for it when it is directly attacked; if they can be
deluded by the artifices used to cheat them out of it; if by momentary
discouragement, or temporary panic, or a fit of enthusiasm for an
individual, they can be induced to lay their liberties at the feet
even of a great man, or trust him with powers which enable him to
subvert their institutions; in all these cases they are more or less
unfit for liberty: and though it may be for their good to have had
it even for a short time, they are unlikely long to enjoy it. Again, a
people may be unwilling or unable to fulfil the duties which a
particular form of government requires of them. A rude people,
though in some degree alive to the benefits of civilised society,
may be unable to practise the forbearance which it demands: their
passions may be too violent, or their personal pride too exacting,
to forego private conflict, and leave to the laws the avenging of
their real or supposed wrongs. In such a case, a civilised government,
to be really advantageous to them, will require to be in a
considerable degree despotic: to be one over which they do not
themselves exercise control, and which imposes a great amount of
forcible restraint upon their actions.