On Numa Dennis Fustel de Coulanges' Criticism of Montesquieu, and the function of Plutarch.

In the (1748) Spirit of the Laws, in the context of discussing corruption in republics, Montesquieu, who is quite pious when he wants to be, makes a revealing observation on an episode among the still uncorrupted Romans about how he understands the function of religion. I quote from a chapter titled, “The effect of the oath on a virtuous people:”

The oath had so much force among these people that nothing attached them more to the laws. In order to observe an oath, they often did what they would never have done for glory or for the homeland.

When the consul Quinctius Cincinnatus wanted to raise an army against the Aequi and the Volscians, the tribunes objected. "All right, then," he said, "let all those who swore their oath to the consul last year march under my banner." In vain the tribunes cried out that no one was still bound by that oath and that when it had been sworn, Quinctius was a private citizen: the people were more religious than those who attempted to guide them; the people would not listen to the distinctions and interpretations of the tribunes. Part 1, Book 8, chapter 13 (translated by Cohler, p. 122)

Montesquieu, quite naturally, reads the willingness of the tribunes to break oaths as evidence that they are willing to treat political necessity as more important than religious faithfulness. And, in fact, he hints — in Spinozist or Mandeville-ian fashion — at the idea that religion is a tool to be used by political leaders who guide the people. As he concludes, “Rome in the storm was a vessel held by two anchors: religion and mores.”

You may well think that I am — and accuse me of — overreading in Straussian fashion. After all, the quoted passage is compatible with the more innocent thought that all Montesquieu is trying to convey (and no more) is that the Roman people were more religious than the upper-class political leadership. Such class distinction in religious fidelity was not unusual in the eighteenth century (it’s quite salient to Adam Smith’s analysis to the political role of religion in morals).

But this Straussian reading of Montesquieu does not originate with me (or Strauss). In fact, we find a very striking instance of it in The Ancient City: A Study on the Religion, Laws, and Institutions of Greece and Rome the classic (1864) study by Numa Denis Fustel De Coulanges. The Ancient City is clearly a polemic directed against the republicanism of Rousseau (who is mentioned once in passing) and its uptake during the French revolution and (more subtly) the contrast between ancients and moderns as formulated by Benjamin Constant (who is never mentioned). But Fustel de Coulanges does explicitly criticize Montesquieu a number of times. I quote one of the main passages:

One would have a very false idea of human nature to believe that this ancient religion was an imposture, and, so to speak, a comedy. Montesquieu pretends that the Romans adopted a worship only to restrain the people. A religion never had such an origin; and every religion that has come to sustain itself only from motives of public utility, has not stood long. Montesquieu has also said that the Romans subjected religion to the state. The contrary is true. It is impossible to read many pages of Livy without being convinced of this. Neither the Romans nor the Greeks knew anything of those sad conflicts between church and state which have been so common in other societies. But this is due solely to the fact that at Rome as well as at Sparta and Athens, the state was enslaved by its religion; or, rather, the state and religion were so completely confounded, that it was impossible even to distinguish the one from the other, to say nothing of forming an idea of a conflict between the two. (Book 3, Chapter VII, Section 4.), pp. 158-159 in the Johns Hopkins edition. [I am unsure who the translator is.]

The underlying charge by Numa Denis Fustel de Coulanges (1830 – 1889) against Montesquieu is that Montesquieu is anachronistic and projects a post-Christian, eighteenth-century conflict between state and religion onto Ancient Romans (and Greeks). The whole force of Fustel de Coulanges’ argument is that we don’t understand Greek/republican political institutions if we do not understand that the aristocratic religion that shaped ancient republics originally was very different in kind than post republican Roman Christianity. The specific charge is that Montesquieu misunderstands ancient religiosity when he treats it fundamentally in functional terms as a tool in the art of government.

What’s odd about all of this is that Fustel de Coulanges himself reads Montesquieu as if he is Machiavelli and Spinoza. That is, of course, not silly, but it is startling. If we look again at the passage that I quoted above, for Montesquieu the piety of the Roman people is self-evident. His point is not that it is a mere tool in the hands of the roman elites.

It’s very tempting to suggest that in his polemical zeal Fustel de Coulanges has misrepresented Montesquieu altogether. I actually think that may be true in this particular instance.

Even so, Fustel de Coulanges has discerned something important about Montesquieu’s analysis. We can see this when we look at some characteristic moves by Montesquieu. Early in Spirit of the Laws, Montesquieu himself introduces a functional analysis of the nature of paternal authority:

Paternal authority is also very useful for maintaining mores. We have already said that none of the forces in a republic is as repressive as those in other governments. The laws must, therefore, seek to supplement them; they do so by paternal authority.

Notice that Montesquieu does not claim that paternal authority (“In Rome fathers had the right of life and death over their own children” and extended families) originates in the functional political role it plays. When pressed, he might well allow Fustel de Coulanges’ narrative about the father’s sacred/priestly role in maintaining and preserving the sacred fire and rites of the hearth as the origin of paternal authority. But Montesquieu does suggest that once a polity is established considerations of public utility shape the laws’ embrace of such authority. And in the ancient republic this is agency by a small aristocracy (that’s common ground between Fustel de Coulanges and Montesquieu). And while Montesquieu’s phrasing is compatible with all kinds of political agency, it is not silly to see in his wording — as Fustel de Coulanges clearly does — a move in which a religious function is domesticated as an aid to political rule.

That’s all I originally wanted to say. But in reflecting on the imperfection of this digression, I do want to mention one more thing without doing all the hard work to prove the point. The position that Fustel de Coulanges attributes to Montesquieu is not so easy to draw out of Montesquieu’s text despite various hints. It is, however, a quite natural reading of Plutarch’s account of the Life of Numa. And is it happens, Montesquieu explicitly cites that account prominently, including when he writes that

Magnificence in the externals of worship is closely related to the constitution of the state. In good republics not only has the luxury of vanity been repressed, but also that of superstition; religion has made laws limiting expenditures. Among them number some laws of Solon, some laws of Plato on funerals that Cicero has adopted, and, finally, some laws of Numa about sacrifices. Part 5, Book 25, Chapter 7 (p. 486, emphasis added!)

And here is I think the real clue whether it is ideological, political or psychological. Fustel de Coulanges cites Plutarch very frequently, of course. In fact, Plutarch may be among his most important sources altogether. But he studiously avoids citing Plutarch on his name-sake Numa; with a single exception where he can cite Virgil as his source and turn Plutarch as wholly uninterested in the functional political role of religious practices.