Oxford UniversilJ Prtss, Amtn /louit, London E.C.

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LOCKE ON
e.4rlt TOWtf UIAOAN WAJll.OfH Jt.C(iltA

WAR AND PEACE

BY

RICHARD H. COX

OXFORD

AT THE CLARENDON PRESS

1960
 PREFACE

THAT war has always been a grave problem for man is

perhaps small consolation to those who must today face that
problem in its most urgent and terrifying form. In fact, the
consolation which in previous ages might have arisen from
philosophic reflection upon the polar character of war and
peace in human existence seems today to be of problematic
value as compared to the value of forthright action dedicated
to finding a way out of our perilous situation. But the situa­
tion in which we are called upon to act proves then to be
ironic in a double sense. First, man's pride at having released
seemingly unlimited power to do his every bidding is accom­
panied by a shadow of fear-fear that in spite of all he may
do, this power he thought himself master of will prove to
be the means of his destruction. Second, the demands for
action tend to depreciate the dispassionate, philosophic
analysis of the nature of war and peace simply because such
a pursuit seems to be irrelevant to our present perils. The
irony is then that f� andpractical ur�, which ari�t
of man's realizati � of extt_aord_in!r}'.£.O :'l'.� r2v�!:_n atu re, t�nd
tonegate thatwn1ch traditionally was beli�ved ts> co11filitute
the core of111s 9wn natu!:_e: the capacity for ref!ecti:v.e.$elf­
g
knowled e and for contemplative investigation of the whole
within which he lives.
-However, this irony may be the beginning of wonder and
reflection concerning how we came to be where we are. We
may even be led to ask whether the long modern experiment,
which culminates with the project of conquering the heavens,
did not contain within itself from the beginning the poten­
tiality of destroying 'this goodly frame, the earth', and of
reducing to cosmic irony Hamlet's vision of the dual nature
of man: 'in action how like an angel! in apprehension how
like a god l'
viii PREFACE PREFACE ix

Whatever the answer to this question may be, the present California at Berkeley for their grants in support of cornole­
study throws light upon it by pointing to the fact that for tion of this book; llie Smultea, John Eberhardt, and Ma;cus
Lo
1
'
cke, as for us, the �teali
.
ssueis�t.Qf man�power over Raymond for their valuable assistance in research and pre­
paration of the manuscript and index; Lenore Heaphey for
nature The difference is this: Locke (like Bacon and other
'Cmitributors to the modern philosophy of power) lived only her typing of the manuscript; and the Delegates of the
in distant anticipation of the effective realization of such Clarendon Press for their undertaking to publish the book,
power, and with apparently no anticipation of its full con­ as well as those members of the Press who have been un­
sequences for the political order. But man now possesses failingly patient and helpful in guiding the work through
such power. It has revolutionized war and political relations, production while I have been many thousands of miles away.
and so far defies legal or political control. To those of us who I alone remain responsible for the opinions expressed and
live in the midst of this revolution the seemingly academic the errors which have gone undetec.ted.
question of what Locke meant by the 'state of nature' thus I owe a special word of thanks to my wife, whose en­
takes on new meaning; for in that conception the deepest couragement, criticism, help, and indeed forbearance, have
root of the connexion between him and ourselves i s to be sustained me in bringing this book to print.
found. The purpose of this study is not therefore simply to R.H. C.
present an interpretation of one more facet of Locke's Btr!ttlty, California
political philosophy; it is also to suggest that the link be­ 15 ll4arch 1960
tween the past and the present via the medium of political
Q_
philosophy may e even more complex than we had pre­
viously suspected.,
The generation of the idea for this study, and the execu­
tion of its design, owe much to the stimulation, advice, and
criticism of many people, but most especially to Professors
Jerome G. Kerwin, IIans J. Morgenthau, and Leo Strauss
of the University of Chicago, and to Dr. Kenneth vV.
Thompson, now Associate Director of Social Sciences for
the Rockefeller Foundation in New York. In addition, I
�ish to acknowledge my gratitude to the following organiza­
�1ons a.nd persons: the Rockefeller Foundation for making
1t possible for me to spend a year in Oxford working on the
Lovelace collection of Locke's papers; the Curators and the
Librarian of the Bodleian Library for permission to consult
the Lovelace collection and to quote from it, as well as for
the unfailing assistance and courtesy of the staff; Dr. W. von
Leyden for the use of his indispensable catalogue to the
papers in the Lovelace collection; the Rockefeller Committee
and the Institute of Social Sciences of the University of
 CONTENTS

'
llEFERENCfS TO LOCKE S WORKS xm

INTRODUCTION xv

I. On the Problern of Interpreting Locke's

Tuo Treatises <?f GO'Uen11ne11t 1
The • ature of the Problem I

The Cautious i\'lr. Locke 7

The Problem of PcrS<."<:ution 14
On the Interpretation of Locke's Trtalius 21

2. The State of Nature and the Law of Nature 45

Locke and the Christian Tradition: Appearance and
Reality 45
The State of Nature and the Origins of Political
Power 63
The State of Nature: The Progression from Order to
Anarchy 73
The Natural State of Man 81
On the Reality of the State of Nature 94
Conclusion 104

3. The Sovereign Co1nmonwealth: Its Genesis

and Powers 1o6
'
Of 'Sovereignty and the 'Supreme Power' 107
The Sovereign Power as a Construct 111
The Status of the Federative Power I 23
The Basis of Territorial Sovereignty 130
The Basis of Membership in the Commonwealth 133
Conclusion I 35
ni CONTENTS
4. The Law of Nature as the Law of Nations r36
The State of Nature and the Law of Nations 136
The Natural Equality, Freedom, and Independence of REFEREl\rCES TO LOCKE'S WORKS
Commonwealths 147

Tqc Nature and Obligation ofTreatie�

(The Limitations on th e Right of War
�clusion
5. The Law of Nature and the Economy of
Power
The Practical Impotence of the Law of Nature
The Natural Primacy of Foreign Policy
The Economics of Security
Economic Power and the Political Problem
CONCLUSION
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Short titles used in the footnotes:
TrtatiJa T:co Trtatim of Gov(17:111t1,11 ed. Thomas I.
Cook (New York: Hafner Pubfohing Co., 1956).
Refercn= arc given by trcati>e and section.
EsstlJ An £11ay Co1u1111i11g H•man U11dtr1tar.dil:g, ed.
A. C. Fraser (2 vols.; Oxford: At the Clarendon
PrC$S, 1894). References are given by book, chap­
ter, and sccr.ion to the Fraser edition.
Tiu Rta101ta6/t11t11 of Tht Rta1011a6/mu1 of Chri1tia11ity, al Ddirurtd il1
C'1ri1tia11ity !At Srript•ra, in vol. vi of Tk Tfi'orRs of Jo/111
Lo''' (9 vols.; London, i824). References are to
pages of this volume.
Second Reply to tht Mr. Lode's Rtply to tht Rig/11 Rt:rltrtnd tht Lord
Bishop ef lfi'oraJJtr Dil'1Dp of Jf/orctJltr's Answer lo his Suvnd Lttttr,
.
in vol iii of ll?<rlu. References are to pages of this

!>OTES volume.

Co,,,id1ratio111 011 MMty Sorne Considtrations of tht Con1e?11t11ces ofLoweri11g

SUBJECT INDEX
the [11/tr111 1111d R ailing the l'a/11e of Mo11ey, in v ol .
INDEX OF NAMllS iv of !Pods. References are to pages of this volume.

Furtkr Conddtrations F1mlurCon1iderations Co11ur11i11gRaisir.g the l'a/ue

on Monty of 1\1onty, in vol. iv of Works. References are to
pages of this volume.
Locke MSS. The Lovelace Collecr.ion: Bodlcian Library, Ox·
ford Univcniity. Rcforcnccs arc to the shelf-mark of
the manuscripts and to the folio number. (Spelling
and punctuation have been modernized in the
quotations which appear in this study. Dates cited
arc as they appear in the manuscriptS.)
 I NTRODUCTIO N

i.. TH 1 s study is an interpretation of John Locke's theory of

natural law and political society. It focuses on Locke's con­
ception of the nature of international relations, and its main
intention is to show that there is, according to Locke, a
vital connexion between three levels of reality: the distinc­
tive character of man's condition in the 'state of nature'; the
proper internal institutions and objectives of political society;
and the nature of relations which exist between independent
political societies.
It is true that Locke is not usually thought of as having had
any particular concern wich the problems of foreign relations.
Indeed, a perusal of the literature on his political philosophy
reveals an almost exclusive concern with his thought as it
applies to the internal ordering ofpolitical society.And a casual
reading of the Two Treatises of Govcr11me111 reveals that only
one chapter-the sixteenth, titled 'Of Conquest'-treats at
any length exclusively and explicitly of the relations of a com­
monwealth to its neighbours. It is necessary, therefore, to state
in a preliminary way the method by which I have sought to
render a systematic account of Locke's teaching on the inter­
connexion of the three levels of reality indicated above.
The central proposition from which everything else fol­
lows is Locke's contention, throughout the Two Treatises,
that 'all commonwealths arc in a state of nature one with
another', and that 'since all princes and rulers of indepen­
dent governments all through the world are in a state of
nature, it is plain the world never was, nor ever will be,
without numbers of men in that state'.1 Precisely what
Locke means by this is, of course, the central problem of
this study. The fact is, however, that his conception of the
state of nature is presented less directly with respect to
xvi INTRODUCTION
independent commonwealths than with respect to individual
men said to be living in such a state. Conse qu ently(to under­
stand the general character of what Locke means bya state of
nature, and thereby what he believes to be the underlying
character of relations among commonwealths, it is neces­
sary: (a) to begin, as Locke himself does, with an elucidation
of the condition in which nature has put man, prior to and
independent!y of political society; (b) to examine, at that
level, the precise connexion which Locke makes between the
state of nature and the state of war; and (c) to make as dear
as possible the precise status and content ofthe 'law of nature'
which is said to guide men in that original condition. These
matters comprise the first stage of the analysis.
The second stage consists of tracing through the way
in which the specific character of man's original condition
influences, o r even in certain respects determines, the inter­
nal ordering of a viable political society, especial1y with re­
gard to its external relations and the fact of its independency.
The third stage deals explicitly with the relations between
independent political societies. ft is at this stage that the
idea of natural law as international law is treated in detail,
and it is shown how Locke's conception of the origin al or
natural condition of man pervades his analysis of political
relations, whether internal or external to the political society-)
conte �
This aspect of Locke's thought can be seen in the proper
if one reflects for a moment upon the fact that typi­
cally, early modern theories of international law and inter­
nation relations were centred upon the concepts of a 'state
of nature' and its corresponding 'natural law'.• It is of course
true that many present-day social scientists, philosophers,
and jurists would and do reject these concepts on the grounds
that they are essentially unscientific, mythical, o r unhistorical,
whether they are meant to apply to individual men in their
alleged pre-political condition, or to relations between states.
\\nat is probably the prevailing view has been succinctly
1 The fact that the mca.aina cl tbne ttrm• it ,.uy diff'erent in differen t authors is, of
oounc, aclcnowl<dgc<I, anJ will be lrclle<I a1 lcagth bier in tbit 1t11dy.
INTRODUCTION xvii
stated by Professor J. L. B rierly in his widely read work, The
Law of JVations. Professor Brierly argues:
We have accepted a false idea of the state as a personality with a
life and a will of its own, still living in a 'state of nature', and we con ­
trast this with the 'political' state in which individual men have come
to live. But this assumed condition ofsiates is the very negation of law,
and no ingenuity can explain how the two can exist together. It is a
notion as false analytically as it admittedly is historically. The truth
is that srates are not persons, howe\·er convenient it may often be to
personify them; they arc merely imtit11tio11s, that is to say, organiza­
tions which men establish among themselves for securing certain ob­
jects, of which the most fun<bmcnral is a system of order within which
the activities of their common life can be carried on. They ha\·e no
will s except the wills of the individual human beings who direct their
affairs; and they e.xist not in a political vacuum but in continuous
political relations with one another.•
On the other hand, if few present-day writers retain the spe­
cific notion and terminology of a 'state of nature' between
states, yet others retain the essence of such an idea, as does,
for example, Mr. Georg Schwarzenberger, who says;
In any system of power politics, the pattern of negotiation-like
peace itself.-is best understood by reference to war:
'\\Tarre consistcth not in .Battcll onely, or in the act of fighting; but
in a tract of time, wherein the \Vill co contend by Battell is sufficiently
known: and tl1ercforc the notion of Time is to be considered in the
nature of Warre; as it is in the natu re of Weather. For as the nature
of Foule weather, lyeth not in a showre of rain; but in an inclination
th ere to of many dayes together: so the nature of Warre consisteth
not in actual lighting; but in the known disposition thereto, during all
the time there is no assurance to the contrary. All other time is Peace'
(Hobbes's Lroiatha11, 165 I).•
But whatever the majority of present-day writers on poli­
tical theory and international relations may think, a brief
glance at the historical record shows that the farther back
• J. L. Brierly, TA. !Aw•/;:.,·.,;.,., (51hcda.; Oxford: At the Clar<ndon Pres!, 1955),
PP· ss-56. . A. Pracgcr
c kc
2 Gcor1 Scbwanenbcrcr:r, P'1fl:tr Pditi(I (:.nd edn�; �e94• York: Fredn
lee.,. 1951), p. J.Ot.
xviil INTRODUCTION
one goes toward the seventeenth century, the more generally
accepted is the idea of nations as existing in a 'state of
nature'. In J922, for example, Lord Bryce, i n a series of
public lectures on international relations, laid it down in no
un c ertain terms as a fundamental and generally recognized
principle that:
... every political community, whatever its form, be it repub lican or
monarchical, i s i n a State of Nature towards every other community;
that is to say, an independent community stands quite outside law,
each commu11ity owni ng no control b ut it:-; own, recognizing no legal
right!> to other communities and owing to them no legal duties .... It
is a law unto itself, subject to no legal control and therefore to no re­
sponsibility, except that ... which the p ublic opinion of the world
imposes.I
Some sixty years earlier no less respected a figure than Sir
Henry Maine stated it as a matter of common agreement
that 'The theory of International Law assumes that com­
monwealths are, relatively to each other, in a state of
)
nature ... .'• In I 8 39 \Villiam Manning concluded, on the
basis of an examination into the history and the science of
the law of nations, that:
As men, before they become members of civil society, are in a state
ofnature, so indcper1dcnt natio1i�, acknowledging no common superior,
are in a state of nature with r egard to each other.J
And Manning then appealed to the authority of Locke to
the effect that 'though this be a State of Liberty, yet it is
not a state of licence .... The state of nature has a law of
nature to govern it.' He also, immediately following, quotes
Hooker, who is Locke's primary authority. Still earlier,
Robert vVard, author of a typical eighteenth-century treatise
on international law, maintained as a fundamental principle
that 'the Communilies of the world remain in the state of
1 Junes Bry<c. l1tlLr'f.11Jio#od R�!•tit.� C-"cw York; The �1acmilb.n Co., 19:2), pp. 3-+
2 Sir Hmry Sumner �fa.inc:, Alf<itlft Lllw ("The World"• Cbssica'; Lon<!o:i: O.xCord
Univenity Pres>, 1931), p. 9>.
> \Villia.m Okc �l..nnln1t c""'"""'*''''' c;IJ tM Lat» OJ•'*�r£1tt (London: s. s..
+cc. t, rS39),
P· 51·
INTRODUCTION xix
Nature with respect to one another, and of course can
follow 110 other Law but the Law of Nature' . 1 At about the
same time, Luther Martin, a delegate to the American Con­
stitutional Convention at Philadelphia in 1787, appealed ex­
pli c itly to the authority of men such as Vattel, Rutherford
and Priestley, as well as to Locke, to establish the propositio �
that states, as to each other, are i n a state of nature.• And
Mr. Martin might well have appealed to the authority of
Montesquieu, Pufendorf, Spinoza, and a host of others, in
order to make his point.
!
' he qu�stion, then, is not whether Locke, by conceiving
.
of mternat1onal relations as a 1 state of nature', stands outside
the mainstream of modern thought. The question, rather, is
precisely how his thought is related to that mainstream. For
the purposes of this preliminary statement, the issue may be
reduced to this: Locke's conception of the original state of
nature is today generally understood to be one of peace and
harmony, whereas that of J-Iobbes is known to be one of war
and discord. Stated more generally, Locke is said to under­
stand peace as immanent and by nature; whereas Hobbes
understands peace as derivative and in a vital respect as
'against nature'. If we follow this generally accepted view of
Locke, international conflict would seem to be a deviation
from the natural or the norm, whereas in Hobbes's view it is
the natural condition, and the institutions of political society
are structured accordingly. Everything turns, then, upon the
question of precisely how Locke understands the original
state of nature.
That question seems to be decided by the fact that Locke's
idea of the original state of nature is, as abundant passages
seem to make clear, fundamentally antithetical to that of
Hobbes. But it i s the main argument of the present study
that, contrary to the surface impression which I believe
Locke deliberately seeks to convey, his conception of the
I Robert \\'ard. _A,, e,,,,,;,, ;,,14 tltt /.f.N'!Ubt�.. ,.J
4•" l/1'11'? of th L.:i-w af N4titm ;,.
Ewol" (Loado:i: A. Strahin and W. WoodftU, 1795). i, 7.
• &,.r1, ef tlu F<limJ c_,,,,. •/ r.,S7, ed. Mu Farnnd (rcw. cdn.; New H••.,,:
Yale Uni•enity p,..,, 1937), i, 437-8.
 INTRODUCTION
state o f nature-whether with regard to individuals or states
-is in fact fundamentally I-Iobbesian in character; that his
political philosophy is based on the primacy of foreign over
domestic policy; and that his mercantilism, which is a par­ I
ticular expression of that primacy, is but a specific applica­
tion of a doctrine which attaches overriding importance to
O N THE PROBLEM O F
the right of self-preservation.\
The further question naturally arises at this point as to INT ERPRE T I NG L O C KE'S TWO
whether, why and how Locke might deliberately seek par­ TREATISES OF GOVERNJ..1ENT
tially to conceal his true teaching about the character of the
state of nature. This is by no means easy to answer; but since
it is of intrinsic importance for understanding the main
The Nature ofthe Problem
argument which follows, I think it is indispensable to begin AT the outset of his Second Treatise Locke seems clearly to
with a detailed statement regarding what seem to me to be differentiate his conception of the 'state of nature' from that
the proper principles for interpreting the Two Treatises of of Hobbes. \Vhereas the philosopher of Malmesbury spoke
Government. The first chapter, therefore, supplies a detailed of the state of nature as 'lawless', Locke says:
study of this ancillary, yet vital, question, and it emphasi2es
The state of nature has a law of nature to govern it which obliges
three interrelated points: first, the historical situation in
every one; and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind who
England when Locke wrote his great work; second, Locke's
will but consult it that, being all equal and independent, no one ought
conception of the 'propriety' which should attach to public
to harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possessions . . . . 1
written discourses, especially those on politics and religion;
and finally, the specific literary and rhetorical techniques And whereas Ilobbes equates the state of nature to a 'state
which Locke employed to achieve his dual purpose of seem­ of war', treating it in a single chapter of his Leviathan, Locke
ing to follow the tradition of natural law laid down in Hooker, writes two separate chapters titled respectively 'Of the State
while in fact subscribing to and promoting the radically of Nature' and 'Of the State of War'. In the latter a seemingly
modern version of natural law which is developed in the unmistakable opposition of the two states is sketched:
writings of Hobbes.
And here we have the plain difference between the state of nature
and the state of war which, however some men have confounded, arc
as far distant as a state of peace, good-will, mutual assistance, and pre­
servation, and a state of enmity, malice, violence, and mutual destruc­
tion are one from another.2

\X.'ho could be meant as having 'confounded' the two states

except Hobbes?
These explicit statements, and others like them, appear
to lend unquestionable support to the usual interpretation

s Ibid. ll, rec. r9.

B

•
2 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
of Locke's relation to Hobbes on this point, an interpr eta­
tion which is epitomized in the words of Mr. Basil \¥illey:
The 'State of Nat ure , in Locke, is so far from resembli ng the 'ill
'
condition' described by Hobbes, that it approximates rather to the
Eden of tl1c religious tradition, or the golden age of the poets .... In
Locke's political theory the thing to be explained was, not by what
fortunate device men escaped from the State of Nature, but what
motives could ever have induced them to desert their Eden.1
Thus Locke, it is frequently argued, was attacking-even i f
only tacitly-H.obbes's conceptions of the state of nature and
natural law in the Second Treatiu, just as he attacked Filmer's
conception of 'patriarchalism' in the First Treatise.•
But this interpretation of Locke's relation to Hobbes is
beset with certain difficulties, even if we leave aside, for the
moment, a more precise analysis of the state of nature and
the law of nature as they appear in t he Two Treatises. For
one t hing , it supplies no adequate explanation of an oft­
noted and curious fact: that Locke never ment ions Hobbes's
name let alone a single sentence of h is works, in the whole
,
Second Treatise. This singular omission cannot have been
due to an unwillingness to attack a man wh o w as g enerally
respected, for on the contrary-as will be shown in detail
presently-Hob bes s politi cal ph i losophy was und er attack
'
from practically every quarter du ring Locke's lifetime, and
Locke was fully aware of that fact. Hence, one must ask why
Locke refrained from openly refuting Hobbes, if that was
his intention.
An even greater diffi culty is posed by the fact that not
only does Locke fail to mention Hobbes in the Second Tre4tise,
but he flatly says, in certain of his la ter p ole mical wri tings ,
that he has ba rel y looked into IIobbes, let alone read h im
with any care. For instance, in the course of a controversy
with the Bishop of \Vorcester, in 1699, Locke writes:
I am not so well read in Hobbes or Spinoo.a,as to be able to say what
1 5« �otc A, p. 105.
"1' rxamples arc to be foun;I in nc..a.rty a.ti the secondary literature on Locke, including the
items cited in cbe fint part o{ Note A, p. 205.
THE NATURE OF TllE PRODLEM 3
were their opinions .. . [on rhe life after denth]. But possibly there be
those, who will think your Lordship's authority of more use to them
in the c.-.se than those justly decried names. . . . 1
And in 1697, in defending his Reaso11able11ess of Christianity
from t h e relentless strictures of one Joh n Edwards, Locke
flatly denies knowledge of the fact that the central doctrine
of his work is also propounded in I-Iobbes's Le"Jiatha11:
... I . . . did not know those words, he [Edwards] quoted out of
the Leviathan, were there, or any thing like them. Nor do I know
yet, any farther than as I believe them to be there, from his quota­
tion.•
These are curious statements to come from a man of Locke's
deserved reputation for learning, for it is hard to imagi ne
that he could be so ill-informed. But even stranger is the
consequence which results if we compare Locke's critiqu e of
Filmer in the First Tremise with his procedure in the Second
Treatise.
In the case of Filmer, whom no one I suppose would care
to rank with Hobbes as a thinker, Locke seems to have felt
that it was necessary to proceed to a systematic and expli cit
refutation. H.e thought little of t h e arguments in Filmer's
Patriarcha, yet tells the reader th at he went through that
work with care:
I . . . took it into my hands with all the expectation, and read it
through with all the attention due to a treatise that made such a noise
at its coming abroad . . . .J
A b it later he also sa ys :
... that f might omit no care to inform myself in our author's full
sense, I consulted h is Obur'IJoliom on .Aristotle, litJhhts, etc., to see
whether in disputing with others he made use of any arguments for
this his darling tenet of Adam's sovereignty; since in his treatise of the
Natural Puwv- of Kings he hatl1 been so sparing of them.•
• SundllLpl.1101A, Bi1A.p •/ JJ'crwur (TA< IP<rh of 7w. Luu in Nnu Pe/.,,.,,, iii
(London, 1h4], 477).
2 A Sa9.,.tJPitr.thc111jQ11r;ftk R,a�Ul""'110/CM1·1t14•i1J (IPU"h• \-i .;.20}. Sccia/r11.,p. 2-2.�
•
for a more es:tc:ndcd tratmcnt of tlU& doc1rlnc.
• Ibid. I, UC. ...
 4 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
Furthermore, the fact that Locke read Filmer with care i s
proved decisively by the veritable flood o f quotations which
he includes, not just from the Patriarcha, but from no fewer
than seven other works by Filmer.' Finally, Locke employs
the incredibly tedious technique of a word-by-word analysis
and refutation of key passages in Filmer, a method which
leaves little doubt of the c.1re which graced the writing of his
re futation in the First Treatise.•
\All the more striking, then, is the total absence of any
mention of Hobbes in the Second Treatise, the failure to
quote a single passage from any of Hobbes's works, and
above all, the contention, publicly made, that he is 'not well
read' in the very man he is said to refute in the second half
of his work. \\'e are thus forced to a very questionable con­
clusion: that Locke, a man of great intelligence and learning,
went to enormous pains to refute the most absurd of the
arguments of a second-rate political thinkcr,3 but did not
even bother to read the works, let alone explicitly refer to
the arguments, of a great political philosopher in order to
refute him.
This conclusion is made even more questionable by two
sets of facts which emerge from an examination of certain
of Locke's papers which, in recent years, have been opened
to public scrutiny. In the first place, there is convincing
evidence that Locke knew much more about Hobbes's
1 Tl1c £.CVC'.C works and t.bc li1nc1 cited: Dt'rcr1it.n1/'r Ok:11tr.c t 10 Cr.tt·�rnr,rl in D11r.gerous
a•aDouhtf•I Tmus (1S); T�t AnartNJofa Lh•il<aor Mbml ilf<narthy (•7); TA. Nmssity
�1tlu-.Ahs,Jut� P<N.'ir cfAll Kint' (I). Oltstr'&J1Jllr;1u urn Ari1tollt!1S Pd:'Ji9u�s T,uc}.ingF�t
ofC!;"Ut'TftM�l'll (tO); Ob1trt1at/01u tlr,. JI. Cro1i111 De J'ur1. a�lli et PMii (t6); Ohser't,loti.rm.s
O# ,,tr. H�r11 �i11tlwrt {1); Oht('f'Vatm1 "ft1r. AlilttJtt ozai"1t Sa/m.01i111 (1). Locke
citet the Pa11i12rcAa f'i&hty-ei1ht timet.
J. Consider U:ee:tamplewhieh Locke providn in 1ec,. S-20. Ifc�n$wi'halistof nineteen
e
quotations from }"ilmrr, tl:.c:n p rocecdtto C">..amin •till a.uot.b<'r qvotati-on1 \\•hich is given in
l
S«.. •+ ThC" btttt provides the •ubjttc·m.attitr for intc:1uc ana ytit in seca. 1 5-20.
i teresting to nocr th.at Locke: K'i7.rt upon lhe 'patriarch.al" thM,is of Filmtt, but
l Jt iJ n
DC\"cr bothcn to rqly to the more tobtr and fC'&IOnablc arpmcnts advmud by Sir Robcrt­
�h as thelatter'to�ectiont to the idc.> ofan 'original• st.al� of'frt"Cdom11 or the a;gumcnct
� Pa1�i.areJuJ .din s the fnarbul�ce' of popubr goviemmtntJ. Stt , on the 6nt point,
r eJg r
Ftlm�rs 0�11r'flt1t
. t1G• '" /\fr. Jld>k11 (A1.11a14a1'; on the 11tc0nd point 1tt cbe Pat'rir;rc�
chs. ni-r:x of the
edition repriotcd in Pat,.iarc4a ••J Otl.tr Poli1ical IFarh of Sif. RMut
F1'-r, eJ. Peru Laslm (Orford: Basil
BbckweU, 1949).
THE N A TU RE OF TH£ PROBLEM s
!
doctrines than h� was wil ing to ad1nit publicly. At least by
r68 r, and possibly earlier, he owned a first edition of
Hobbes's Levia1ha11, and his Journals contain a number of
J
references to that work.' In addition to the Leviathan
Locke owned two other works by lIobbes plus three work �
by Robert Boyle in which the latter criticizes certain of
Hobbes's doctrines in detail.• Furthermore, Locke's com­
monplace books and Journals contain a number of explicit
references to Hobbes's theory of government. Some of these
are statements on Hobbes which Locke copied out of books
.
wluch he read. In r667, for instance, he copied a passage on
Hobbes out of Filmer's Observa1io11s 011 Hobbes's Le<:Jia1ha11 ·
'
m
.
1687 there is a passage from an article in the Bibliotheque
U:iiverselle; �nd �n the same year a passage from an article in
Pierre Bayle s lvo11ve/les de la Rlpublique des Lettres.1 Other
references are in fact paraphrases or statements of what
1:-<'
cke understands Hobbes to mean; in 1677, in an essay
titled 'Study', Locke says that 'An Hobbist, with his principle
of se lf-preservation, whereof himself is judge, will not easily
.
admit a great many plain duties of morality'.4 In another
in� tance, an undated note on a single sheet of foolscap con­
tams the following rhetorical question raised by Locke:
That the magistrate should restrain seditious doctrines who denies;
but because he may, then has he power over all other doctrines to
forbid or impose I Hhc hath not, the argument is short; if he hath, how
far short is this of Mr. Hobbes's doctrincls
Second, and even more significant, is the fact that Locke
himself quite clearly adopted a Hobbesian conception of the
state of nature in an early formulation of his thought on the
proper scope of political power, a formulation contained in
the manuscript of a polemical pamphlet on toleration, which
1 Locke �tss.. D. l.• fol. 1 :.4; (. 5, fol1. 9�7; t:. 3, fol. 199. For ins;unci; the Jocrru.I for
1691 U\dicatcS t.hlt Locke rttril""�d his cop1 of the Lrvi.:tAiln from Oxfor d, where many of
bii books \lo'trt stor�d duri111 hir ttilr in Ifoll.tnd.
2 Locke MSS., •· J• Iott. Sl• 59, 199.
J Loclce :\ISS., r. 1<!. fol. 1 6 (1667); c. H· fou. '9 and JS (1687).
• Locke �SS., (. l, fol. 128.
• L<reke MSS., c. 39, fol. 9. Cf. Hobbet'• L«Jiatlla#, pt. ii, cb. '9'
6 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
Locke wrote in 1660 but never published. At one point
Locke acknowledges that there are 'disadvantages of govern­
ment'; but he concludes that these, however bad, are
Yet far less than are to be found in its absence, as no peace, no
security, no enjoyments, enmiry with all men and safe posseson
si of
nothing, and those stinging swarms of miseries that attend anarchy
and rebellion.'
It is easy to see in this sentence a paraphrase of the most
famous passage from Hobbes's Leviathan, which ends with
the proposition that in the state of nature, the life of man is
'solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short'.2 Furthermore, a
number of passages in the same manuscript indicate the
extent to which, at this early date, Locke tacitly follows
Hobbes's views on the extent of the civil power, as when he
says that the magistrate 'must necessarily have an absolute
and arbitrary power over all the indifferent actions of his
people'.3
There is also in Locke's manuscript materials an undated
short article, in his own ha11d, a11d titled 'Morality', which
contains the following striking passage :
Man made not himself nor any other man. Man made not the
world which he found made at his birth. Therefore, man at his birth
can have no right to anything in the world more than another. Men
therefore must either enjoy all things in common or by compact
determine their rights. If all things be left in common, want, rapine
and force will unavoidably follow, in which state, as is evident, happi­
ness cannot be had, which cannot consist without plenty and security.4
Evidence such as this does not, of course, prove anything
in and of itself about the mature Locke's published doctrine
and its relation to that of Hobbes. But it does suggest the
necessity of looking more carefully at Locke's character, at
the intellectual and political climate of the times, and at
• Locke f\1SS., e. 7, (ol. �··
n
i
1 J (h). 1'bc numbers par.nthc>et •re 10 the 'Bl>tkwdl's Political Texu
' PL i, ch.
<dicion of 1..ri;,.u/uui (O>tfor4: Basil llbck.-ell, 1957).
' Locke MSS., c. :S, fol. l (Prdm' 10 the pamphld).
• Locke MSS., c. .S, foh. 1JHO (cmpb&Jit 1upplied).
THE NATURE OF TllE PROBLEM 7
Locke's views on the public communication of doctrines, for
a possible explanation of this curious reticence to admit a
knowledge of, let alone an indebtedness to, a man such as
Hobbes. Indeed, information of this kind is necessary, I
believe, in order to formulate a satisfactory method for the
interpretation of Locke's published writings, and especially
his Two Treatises of Gor
.. 1en1me111.
As it is, the generally
accepted manner of interpretation leads to the conclusion
that his political philosophy is 'confused', 'illogical', 'inco­
herent', and 'inconsistent'.• But it is difficult to understand
how a man of Locke's stature was unable to detect those
errors and inconsistencies with which he is often charged,
and which apparently are discernible co anyone who has read
the Treatises with even a modicum of care. The question is
whether Locke's method of writing, when seen in the light
of a detailed examination of the foregoing considerations,
does not itself suggest an answer to many of the perplexities
and difficulties which, I acknowledge, are to be found in his
work.
The Cautiou1 Mr. Locke
The fact is that Locke's behaviour with regard to his know­
ledge of Hobbes is only one facet of bis singularly cautious
-even secretive-conduct with regard to political and in­
tellectual matters and to the publication of his works. This
fact, which has been emphasized in various ways in several
recent studies,Z is manifest on a variety of points. For one
thing, although Locke lived during a period of great politi­
cal upheaval, and although he was often closely associated
with men in high station, those of his own letters which are
• Sec, for uample, John W. Cough, Joli• 1Mh'1 Po/i'tita/ PAii.i.pAJ (Oxford: At the
Cbrcndon Press, 1956). pp. 9�1; l>unnina. op. ci1. (Nole A, p. 20;), p. 368; Walter
�r. imon,
S •John Locke: Philosophy and Political Theory', A!lfdi(Jl'f P�iti,al &intt�
Rn:iew, dv Oua.c 1951). 391; L.1mprccht., op. cit. {Note A, p. zos), p. t.9.
• Sec. far cumple, A. II. Maclean, ·�r&• Lawaon and John Locke', Tiu C...bridx•
Hi!rorKol yf/Urnal, ix (•94-7), 73-74-: •Locke wat an i.nordinalely eautiotos mao, e-rea in
mattcN •·here, and at time• •·hen, caution wat u�suy: An-d cf. �fauric:c Cranston,
"The Politi« ofJohn
Loci<<, /llltOTJ T<i4Jo ii (�1<mbcr 19)?), 619-2>, and Mr. Cnn-
1too·1 biop-.1phy, 74411 L«k• (Londoo, New York, Toronto: Lcmgmanl, Green &- Co.,
1 957}, f4SSllll.
S INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
preserved contain remarkably few comments which would
reveal his exact position on or involvement in contemporary
political events; and his most recent biographer, Mr.
Maurice Cranston, implies that Locke deliberately destroyed
many letters written to him because of the possibility that
they contained incriminating evidence regarding political
associations.1 Furthermore, this behaviour of the more
mat1.�re Locke is foreshadowed in some of his early letters.
For mstance, several months after Oliver Cromwell died in
1658, Locke wrote from Oxford to his father. The letter
reAects his concern and anxiety over the tense political
situation, adding : 'I hope I am to be pardoned on both sides
if 1 am not quicksighted enough to see either the glorious
fabric of liberty and happiness, or those goblins of war and
blood which either side would persuade us they behold over
our heads, ready to drop down on us'. But then, as if con­
cerned over making even so mild a statement as this, Locke
concludes : 'But I wander beyond my intention which de­
signed so�ething that you did not know-not �hat you are
_ declare his unqualified belief in the Trinity. For this the
well acquamted with already. And a comment on these times
is as dangerous, as to you useless, and therefore fit for no­
thing but the fire'.•
A few years later, while he was in Brandenburg as Secre­
tary to the British Emissary, Locke wrote several letters to
John Strachey, a friend in England. All of them are very
_
guarded m tone when they touch on political matters
whether at home or abroad. And in one of them Locke say�
that he has unfortunately not been able to obtain the use of
the 'cipher' : ' . . . which being denied to me I shall not
. '
venture to write thus openly again, at least till I hear from
you'.3 Again, in commenting on the political situation i n
Brandenburg and on British policy there, Locke concludes
his remarks with this promise: 'What private observations
I have made will be fitter for our table at Sutton than a letter'·"
This reticence to speak openly on political matters is
1 Cran1ton,J'ohnLotk, p.191. • Lo ke MSS.,
c e.
• Locke MSS., e. >t. fol. 251. 4 Loeltc MSS., e
THE CAUTIOUS MR. LOCKE 9
found not only in the letters, but in the Journals as well.
Mr. von Leyden, who has deciphered the shorthand some­
times used by Locke, notes that in some entries the short­
�and was employed for purposes of secrecy-most notably
m � 6 7 7, when Locke concealed, by this technique, a tran­
scnpt1on of the speech by the first Earl of Shaftesbury in
support of his application to be released on bail from the
Tower.1
Another instance of Locke's great reserve is found in his
treatment of theological doctrines. I-Te never explicitly denies
the dogma o� the Trinity in his published writings. On the
contrary, he IS always at great pains to give the impression
o� adherence to that doctrine of orthodox Christianity,•
�1�hout �ver explicitly and unqualifiedly declaring his belief
m 1t. This evasive attitude led the Bishop of \\'orcestcr and
others t� �ccuse him of being a Unitarian, or of following
the Socm1an heresy. Locke then wrote long replies in
defence of himself, but once again failed to satisfy his
cnt1cs by his-to them-perverse and obvious refusal to
Bishop of \Vorcester rebuked him:
Suppose I had born a little too hard upon you in joyning your words
and another's i11tentions together; had it not been an easie and effectual
way of clearing yourself, to have declared to the world, that you
owned to the do{trine of tht Trinity, as it hath been recei\•ed in the
Christian Church, and is by ours in the Creeds and Articles of Reli­
gion? This had stopt the mouths of the clamorous, and had removed
the suspicions of the doubtful, and would have gi\•Cn full satisfaction
to :ill reasonable men. But when you so carefully avoided doing this,
all other acts and e,·asions do but leave the matter more suspicious
among the most intelligent and impartial rcaders.3
1 John Lock�t 1:,1ays"" 1/t.1 la-:vof1Vature, ed. W, von LcyJcn (Oxford: At the Cl�rendon
Preas, 1954), PP· :49-50.
a Set: Tht Rra�ona/Jlenetl ofC.hristit:nity, the three: 'Letter•' to the Oi&hop of Worcester,
and tltc l\YO 'Vindicatio::1s' of Tltt Rtt:scnahltne11 ofCluJ°Ji/r,,i/ty (J//or�J, Hi, \•i, µssim).
\ Edw•rd SLiUingRcet, Tlttt Risltop o f ff/vrcrstel''J Anst.,er 111 Jt.1r. Locl.1'1 StccTtd Letter;
IF''1trti,, 1//1 Not?n ef/bot ir Prov'd to b e lr.to11sht11t1 •u•itlt 11selfanrl witA tA1 Artie/,., of1'11
i
CAristiatt Fa1tA (London, 1698)1 p. .;.; a:nd d. \VitJ1 L-oek.�, Stccnd R,_plJ to tilt Bishop cf
� fol. r 7;.
•t. fol. 235.
Worctst'r (Jl'orAi, iH, passim).
10 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO 7'REATISES
To this Locke replied, quite typically, with a carefully
worded equivocation :
. . . in what you require ofme here, you possibly have cut out too much
work for a poor ordinary layman, for whom it is too hard to know
how a doctrine so disputed has been received in the christian church,
and who might have thought it enough to own it as delivered in the
scriptures.•
But these public defences of his orthodoxy are offset by
even more compelling evidence of a private nature, such as
a letter he wrote to Phillip Limborch, in February I 698.
Limborch, a close friend of Locke, taught theology at
Amsterdam. The two men had corresponded for years, often
at great length, on theological and philosophical problems.
In the letter of 1698 Locke offers his proof of the unity of
God, a proof which does not even allude to the orthodox
Christian doctrine of the Trinity. Furthermore, as if in
recognition of the dangers of admitting to heterodoxy,
Locke sets forth stringent conditions about who shall be
allowed to see his arguments; he forbids Limborch even to
mention his name in connexion with the views expressed;
and he concludes with this final admonition to his friend:
'That you give no copy of what I write to anybody, but that
you promise me to burn this letter whenever I require you
to do it'.2
As for the speci fic and oft-repeated charge that he actually
follows the Socinian writers and interprets the Scriptures as
they do, i.e. in the 'Anti-Trinitarian mode', Locke's public
statement is that he has never read them-a more emphatic
version, of course, of his public statements on Hobbes:
I took not my sense of those textS [the New Testament) from those
writers, but from thescripturcitSClf. . . . ['V)hat in this way appears to be
itS true meaning, I shall not decline, because I am told that it is so
understood by the racovians [F. Socinus and his followers] wh!J111 I
ntvtryet read . . .1 .
ii. 197).
1 S...•tl RtpfJ,. tlu B114•p •/ ll'orttlltr (ll'vh, i
z Locke �ISS., c. 24, fol 161. ' � Note B, p. ><>5.
THE CAUTIOUS MR. LOCKE II
This is a strange statement for a man who owned and made
extensive use of a considerable collection of Sociniana. As
early as I 680 Locke recorded in his Journal the purchase of
the Life of Socinus; by 1690-live years before the Reaso11-
able11ess of Christianity was first published-he owned at
least eight works by Faustus Socinus; and at his death he
owned even more, including a separate complete set of
Socinus's Works, the entry for which is written in his own
hand in the autograph catalogue of his books.• Io addition
to the works by Socinus himself, Locke owned many works
by other authors considered to be 'Socinians'. Nor were all
these heterodox volumes left to gather dust in Locke's
library; entries in his own hand in his commonplace books
indicate that he read them, made extracts from them, and
in general made good use of them in the development of his
views on Christianity.1 Hence, we have once again a
manifest discrepancy between what Locke is willing to
admit publicly and what is revealed by his private papers.
Still another facet of Locke's singularly cautious be­
haviour is revealed by his passion for anonymity in the
publication of his writings. Of all his more important writ­
ings-e.g. the Essay Concernillg H11mn11 Understanding, the
Two Treatises of Gover11me111, the Le1ters Co11cerning Tolera­
tion, the Thoughts Co11ccrJ1ing Ed1icatio11, and the Reaso11able-
1ress of Christia11ity--only the Essay carried his name at the
time of publication. Nor is it difficult to understand why:
it is by far his most theoretical discourse, or as Locke him­
self says of it in a letter to Limborch, the Essay treats
essentially of 'des questions de pure speculation philo­
sophique' 1 Although the
. Essay did become controversial,
that controversy was primarily over the validity of Locke's
arguments regarding the ultimate basis of knowledge, and
only secondarily-and then only publicly after some years
1 Locke �ISS., b. 1, fol 114; c. 3, fob. 370-:.; f, 4., fol. 1'!.
• See Cr>JlJton, 7•An Lod<, p. )91; lltrbttt Mcl.Khlui, TiuRelipo1 Opim...sojM:1mL,
L«h uuJ N«AJIWf (Ma.o.W�ter: �fa.nc.ht1il('t Vni"cnity Pr�, 1941), pp. 104-5; Herbert
McL.ach.J.an, Sot1nia•is"' in S11.�ttt1t1A--ct•tul'J Ea1la.J (London: 0:1ford Un.i\•cnity Press,
1951), pp. 316-7. ' Locke MSS., c. 24' fol 156.
 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
had elapsed1--over the question of whether it contained
propositions inimical to traditional morals and revealed
religion.
On the other hand, Locke's other works-as is evident
from the titles alone-dealt directly with the controversial
topics of politics, religion, and education. His attitude
toward public acknowledgement of their authorship is shown
in the case of his Le11ers Concerning To/era1iq11: only in his
will does he definitely admit that he wrote them.1 Even more
revealing is a bitter letter of accusation which he wrote to his
friend Limborch in I 690, upon learning that the latter had
betrayed the secret of his authorship of the first Lener Con­
cerning Toleralio11 to two other men:
I must confess it surprises me that these inquisitive men should have
found it so easy to lish out of you a secret that I hoped was perfectly
safe in your keeping. For rumours are afloat about this pamphlet
which, though they did not trouble me at all when irs authorship was
unknown, now threaten almost to ruin me . . . . [A)ll I have to say is
that, if you had confided such a secret to me, I should never have
divulged it to any friend or acquaintance, or any human being, on any
condition. You do not know what trouble you have brought on me.
All that now remains for you to do is to try all you can to induce these
two others to join you in keeping the secret which you could not keep
by yourself.3
Most important of all, so far as his political philosophy is
coi1cerned, is Locke's behaviour with regard to th e Twq
Treatises of Governme111. The Trcalises were first published,
anonymously, in about October of r 689, having been licensed
by the censor in August of that year. A year later, when they
began to attract the attention of a number of people, one of
Locke's Oxford friends, James Tyrrell, became curious
about the identity of the author. Although Locke's letters on
this matter do not seem to have been preserved, his attitude
1 lo 1694 Locke could 'till write chat thit "l-.cttrodox tcstammt' had not yet 'n:iscd up
"")-where ao opponent'. See Crin•ton, Jolt• lodt, p. 383.
i Ibid., p
p.. 3:0-1, 331-i, 36o-r.
• H. R. fox Bourne, Tiu LI /• •/Joli• L«M (X'ew York. H•rper and Brotbao, 1876),
ii. zo6-7; Cnntton, Jolt• L«u, pp. 33...3.
THE CAUTIOUS MR. LOCKE 13
toward such inquiries-even when they came from an old
acquaintance-is made evident in Tyrrell's letter of 30
August 1690. Tyrrell writes to Locke :
I must tell you that when I wrote to you to know if you could in­
form me who was the author of that book [Twa Trtatius of Govern­
ment], you returned no answer at all, as I can show you by the letter
itself, which I ha,•e still by me. 'Tis true, in another when I wrote you
word that the people at Oxford had now found out a better author
than [ for it: ,·iz., yourself, your answer was to this effect, that since
they would not have you to be the author of a book that you owned,
[The Essay],' you did not tl1ink it worthwhile to give them any
satisfaction in those that you did not own at all. But you further said
that you would convince me of their mistake, both about that and
another called Huma11 Reason (which they also laid to you) when we
next met.
So you may remember that when T first waited ofyou at your lodg­
i ng as soon as I came to town, I fell purposely in talk of that book, and
said that whoever had written it, whetheryourselforanother, I thought
them very much in the right in most things, that he agreed perfectly
with my conceptions in Potriorcho No11 Monarcho (which he has
quoted),• which I spoke on purpose that you might then take occ"\Sion
to deny it if I were mist:ikcn. Which, since I found you did not, but
rather declined the discourse and swerved it off to another subject, I
must confess I did then (I do still) cntertaiu some suspicions of your
being the author of it, :l.� l must do 'till you pl ease positively to assert
the contrary.
But for my uttering this suspicion to another and not to yourself I
must tell you l thought it not good manners to urge you any further
upon the point, which, if it were true, perhaps you had no wish that
l should know. But I assure you I never uttered this suspicion to any­
body but Mr. P., nor had I done it to him but that I know him to be a
very good friend of yours and that would not do you any prejudice by
my discourse. But he might likewise have told you that I then gave
him some reasons why he might g:uher that tl1e book was not yours; I
then told him that I was not confident of it (and therefore did nor con­
sider it so), but only held such a suspicion, for the reasons I ha,·e now
1 The allusion here it to •nothtr ofTyrrc-11'1 Jc1tcn, in whit:h he tdb Locke tha.t a number
of the Fellou·s at Oxford ba\·e 1aid hit £11•.J Ct.«�r'""l Jl:.w47t Uc.tkrst!1.d11g ii baud
cucntially oa the theory of 'ldcu' in Deacartt's• phiborhy, a.cd on the theories of •divcn
modem French autbort'. Sec Locke �SS., e. 21, fol. 86. • See l<ote C, p. o;.
z
14 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
given you; in which, if I am mistaken, you must thank your own
reservedness. So that I hope when you consi der better of it, you will
find that you have no reason to take my uttering my private opinion
ill, unless it be because you will take ic amiss . . . .1
Nor is this the only instance of Locke's secretiveness about
the Treatises. As Mr. Cranston has pointed out, he seems to
have been so anxious to conceal his authorship of the work
that no letters or other papers connected with its publication
remain; presumably Locke had them destroyed.• In I 692,
when another friend, \Yilliam Molyneux, discreetly in­
quired about the authorship of the work, Locke was silent
on the point in his letter of reply.1 And in I 702, when Locke
was asked for copies of his books for the Bodleian Library
at Oxford, he did not authorize the inclusion of the Treatises,
although he did so in 1704 in a codicil to his will.•
The Proo/em ofPersecution
Now it is a moot point whether Locke's great and evident
caution on the matters treated here was altogether necessary.
I am inclined to accept the judgement that he was probably
inordinately cautious in some cases.s However, this ought
not to preclude our reflection on the implications, for the
interpretation of Locke, of the undisputed fact that he lived
i n a society which was highly resistant to the open expres­
sion of unorthodox political, religious, and philosophical
views, and that persecution-ranging from sentence of
death and imprisonment to loss of position and social
ostracism-was very much a reality. Indeed, it is a matter
of common knowledge that Locke himself not only wit­
nessed but was a victim of the persecution of his age. While
at Oxford in 1679, he was spied on by the Librarian of his
own college, who attempted to discover whether he had
written certain allegedly seditious pamphlets, and who made
reports on him to an Under-Secretary of State. In 1683,
' LockeMSS., c. u, foL 9+ 2 Cranuon, j<lr• L«h, p. 318.
' Ibid.,p. 36o. ' Hid., pp. 45!)-6o.
s Stt rvtackan, op. cit., aod the tludies by Crsn,fol'!;,
THE PROULEM OF PERSECUTION IS
after the indictment of Algernon Sydney, Locke was so
alarmed that he is reported to have destroyed a number 6f
his papers. I-le then Red England because of his close asso­
ciation with the Earl of Shaftesbury, who preceded him to
Holland. \\'bile in exile, he was peremptorily deprived of
his position at Christ Church on the personal order of the
King, and was accused of writing seditious pamphlet s a
crime punishable by death. He was also accused of be g in
involved in the ill-fated plot of the Duke of Monmouth.
English agents then attempted to force the Dutch to sur­
render him, but he escaped by hiding in friends' houses for
well over a year. Even after his return to England in 1689 his
position was far from secure, for it depended 011 the con­
tinuance in office of a friendly government, and that was by
no means certain. 1
It is also noteworthy that Locke refers or alludes to the
problem of persecution-for political and other reasons-in
a number of places in his published writings. In the Treatises,
which are of particular concern to us here, he says, almost
as though in passing, that 'Judge Jefferies pronounced
sentence of death in the late times . . .'.• But it so happens
that among the many victims of the notorious Jeffreys were
not a few persons charged with treason and seditious libel.
One of the first and most famous was none other than
Algernon Sydney, whose arrest put such a fright into Locke,
and who was executed for treason in December 1683. One
crucial piece of evidence used to convict Sydney was his own
unpublished work, the Discourses Co11cer11i11g Government.
The government prosecutors argued that the work con­
stituted a 'traitorous libel' because it affirmed, among other
things, the subjection of the King to Parliament and the law­
fulness of deposing kings. Jeffreys told Sydney: 'There is
not a line in the book scarce but what is treason'.1 Nor was
t For the dctail.t. Fox Bourn�, op. cit. li. 1-.S6; 1'hc Life of the. Author' (JFu!1, i.
see
xix-Tnix}; Cranstoo, Joltn LMU,rui•. s T''"'�s., I, sec.
1::9.
' A c...pkte Cdltcti"" ofState Tria/J, t.d. T. 8. Howc!I (London, 1811). ir. 819, 39s.
for detail!, sec also Dictiottar:10//'J#f/C#ldl R1Cfr4p/l.f, t:ds. Sir Lalie Stephen a..rid Sir Sidney
Lee (London: Oxford Uojvenity Prdt, 1921-1), z. 714--i1 ; ni ii. :.02-10.
 INTERPRETJNC LOCKE'S 1'11'0 TREATISES
the case of Sydney altogether exceptional, for a great many
of the State Trials of the period concerned alleged treason
and very often involved charges of seditious libel in printed
works or in letters1-<:ircumstances which were not likely to
encourage a man so cautious as Locke to set forth his political
views, whatever they might be, in an unguarded fashion. In
such unsettled times one could hardly be sure which way
the tide might turn. In any case, another reference in the
Treatisesseems to allude to still further examples of what
could happen to men who were too forward in pressing their
political views. Very early in the First Treatise Locke, in
referring to the theory of the Divine Right of Kings,
mentions in a rather cryptic passage the 'sad effects' to
which this doctrine gave rise and specifically but mysteriously
refers to 'Sibthorp and Manwaring' on this point.> An
examination of their biographies reveals that both men
preached daring sermons in support of extreme demands of
the King in the 162o's, and that they later experienced, at
the hands of the Parliament, imprisonment, loss of position
and income, as well as social ostracism.a The fact that Locke
bothers, at the outset of his work, to allude to such men may
very well serve discreet warning that the public avowal of poli­
tical views was not, in his estimation, without a certain risk.
As for religious persecution, Locke's own role in com­
bating it through his anonymous Le11crs Co>tcernillg Toleration
is proof in itself, were any needed, of the illiberal atmo­
sphere of the times. Nor was this illiberality confined to the
censoring or prescription of books, or to social pressures
against heretics. Not a few men in Locke's lifetime lost their
positions and went to prison for uttering heresies.• Locke
1 � HG1.4Hl1'1 SJ�lt TriJ/1, vii-'Ci• (1810-1:). � Trt.:ttis,,, r. $�. S·
i Sect� arc.iclcs on Roae:r �t:anwari.ni ind Robt-rt Sibthorp rt i tk Dicti<;"ary of.\'a1i�ol
Bhgrap,,1.ii. 189-90; xriii. 191-:.. And cf. •ori t/Li'W1",C41iflyefC�ellf.ui'e fW 1, 1ct<hti:n
�7•4•AW<J, l.tw<.-tli<pon 1669••J r696, •d. Andrew Cluk (Orford: At the Cbrcn­
don Prct,, 1898), i. 3J+- 1'be titent to which the •ction o( men such as Sibthorp wis eoc­
ti:dcrcd d�rinc at the time: it indicated by Joh.n Stldttt•s st.atcmt'ftt concuning Sibthorp's
UrmOO tb.&t 1ifCTct the tide tumed', the nun authorlting publication of it ''\\·OU.Id be lung'd
for publishing it•. D1ttiou'J '' /\'41""'/ Bl'Jzraplt.J, •viii. •9:..
• See �tcLachlt.n, $0<1J1ua11i1• "' $n>tcJtt•tA-crntury Erttlartd, JNUU..
THE PROBLEM OF PERSECUTION 17
himself quite naturally took a keen interest in such matters.
At one point he took it upon himself to assemble a set of
documents on the celebrated case in which eighteen-year­
old Thomas Aikenhead was executed at Edinburgh in 1696
for the crime of blasphemy.' The charges were brought
under two statutes of the Parliament in Scotland. Under the
first, passed in 1 6 6 1 , it was declared a crime to 'rail!' or
'curse' against 'God or any of the persones of the blessed
Trinity'. Under the second, passed in 169 5, a blasphemer is
. . . whoe\·er . . . shall in their wri ting or discourse, deny, impugn or
quarreU, argue or reason, against the being of God, or any of the
persons of the blessed Tri nity, or the Authority of the Holy Scriptures
of the old and new Testaments, or the providence of God in the
Government of the \Vorld . . . .:
A petition of Aikenhead to the Privy Council-a copy of
which was in Locke's manuscripts on the trial-contains
the interesting remark that J\ikenhead felt he had been
corrupted and led astray by the reading of 'some atheistical
books', which belonged to others, but which he had in his
custody.J \\That these 'atheistical books' were it is not pos­
sible to say with certainty. But Thomas I-Iallyburton, a Pro­
fessor of Divinity at St. Andrews from I 7 r o until his death
in r 7 1 2, confidently maintained that the 'sum' of Aiken­
head's 'confused discourse' on morality-a discourse con­
tained in the latter's speech made just prior to his execution
-probably had been learned from the writings of none other
than Thomas Hobbes.4
The law of blasphemy in England proper does not appear
to have been as harsh as that in Scotland.5 But Mr. I-I. J.
McLachlan, in his comprehensive study, Socinianism in
Se'!Je11tee111h-ctntury E11gla11d, points out that although Soci­
nian and Unitarian tracts did circulate more widely at the
• These: p.a.ptt1 are reproduced .n
i HO"Cl.1111'• Sr.ir1 Tri4/I, xiii. 918-3-c.-.
.i Sec TM Ac110Jrlu P•rli�""-"'o/Stwlorttl, ed. T. Thoms.or., \:ii (1S�o)�ch. 216 for t�e
Act of 1661; ix (1Su), ch. 1+ for the Atl or 1695.
2 Hvwrlr1 St::J� Tri.;.J1, 1iii. 918. • l�d. xiii. 93S·
' S« G. D. Nok<f, A H111;11•ftl>1 c,;,..,ojB/»pl""! (Lo:>don•Sweet&: �{nv.·dt, Lid.,
1918).
c
18 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
end ofthat century than they had at mid-century, nonetheless
the Toleration Act of 1689 itself allowed for 'savage penal­
ties' to be inflicted 'on those professing Unitarian views'. He
continues:
Excluded from the benefits of toleration, Unitarians could not meet
for worship; their publications were liable to be proscribed and their
authors prosecuted. Little wonder that Locke and Newton, and even
(StephenJ l'\ye, abstained from publishing overtly anything that might
be construed too easily in tl1e Unirarian interest.'
And what is equally significant in view of Locke's great
caution about admitting to a knowledge of the Socinians is
Mr. Md.achlan's reply to those who might object that he
has included in his own study men who did not publicly
acknowledge that label :
. . . to argue from a man's silence that he did mt bold an opinion
for which he might be ruined and imprisoned or, up to 1699, even
hanged, seems rather �bsurd. TVt have ohstrutd, 011 tht contrary, hbW
opponents of tlu rtctivtd doctrinu often cnrtfully trimmed their sails to
tlu pnvaili11g wi11ds to avoid shipwred and purpost/y used vague anti
ambiguous 1xpru1io11s. A positive Unitarian movement in the seven­
teenth century was out of the question.•
It would seem, then, that Locke's behaviour in regard to
the publication of his theological views was a fairly common
phenomenon among dissenters, and that until very near the
end of his life he had good reason to be-as he cryptically
referred to himself in the mysterious initials appended to the
Latin title of his First Letter Concerning Toleration-a 'hater
of persecution'.l
One further aspect of the illiberal climate of opinion re­
mains to be treated : the reception accorded to the doctrines
of Locke's great contemporary, Thomas Hobbes. I suspect
that it is difficult for us today really to appreciate--or even
l 1\-fcLachbn, S«i•u1'1f1·s,. "' &wn1tr"1'�111tv7 E,,tl.aJtJ, pp. 3;4-5.
1 Ibid., p. JJS (cmph.'>it supplied to the i"liciicd scnu:ncc). Sec 1lro Cold,.;n Smith, Tiu
v•1ld /(,pg/..., (New York: The Marmillui Compsny, 1907), ii. 87-88; D. J. Medley,
A S111tk1r's l1l61t:1•l ".f EtctluA c,.,,,,,ttti�""I Hi1to? (6th d.; Xcw York: The M�cmillan
Co.1 1925), ch. 11. J Cra.n1ton, joA1t Loch, p. 32.0.
THE PROBLEM OF PERSECUTION r9
completely to grasp-the intensity and duration of the out­
cry against 1-Iobbes's philosophy. Yet Hobbes himself was
aware of and even calls attention to his radical break with the
traditional view of natural law; for he says, in De Cive ( r642) ,
that almost all previous writers on government are mistaken
because of their 'too slight contemplation of human nature'.•
In the Preface he outlines his new and radical view, and
concludes thus:
But for their sakes who have a little been staggered by the principles
themseh·es, to wit, the nature of men, the authority or right of nature,
the nature of compacts and contracts, and the original of cil•il govern­
ment . . . I have . . . in some places added some annorations, whereby
I presumed I might gi ve some satisfaction to their differing thoughts.•
Nor was Hobbes wrong in supposing that his contem­
poraries might be 'staggered' by his theory of man and the
nature of government. Dy the end of the seventeenth century
his name and doctrines were synonymous, for the majority
of educated people-including clergymen, scholars and
statesmen-with everything that is evil and misguided.
Perhaps the simplest way to demonstrate this in general
terms is by an extract from the article on him in the Dic­
tionary of National Biograpl1y :
In 1666 a committee of the House of Commons, appointed to con­
sider a bill against 'Atheism and Profaneness,' was empowered to
receive information about offending books, and especially the 'Levia­
than.' According to Aubrey, Hobbes was so alam1ed as to burn his
papers. A report given by \Vhite Kennett (Memoirs cf the Cavmdi1h
Family) says tl1at he now frequented the chapel and took tbe sacrament,
though 'he turned his back upon the sermon.' He argued (in an
appendix to a Latin translation of the 'Leviathan' in 1668) that since
the abolition of the high commic;sion there was no court whjcb could
try him for heresy. He found protectors in Arlington and the King.
Charles, however, would not permit him to publish any work of
political or religious tendency. 'The Behemoth' (finished about 1668)
was suppressed by Charles's ordc�, though a surreptitious edition
• Thomu H<>bl><t, V. CN<, pt. i, ch. r, sec. > (T4' E•tli1A ll'orlJ if TJ,w.,, H.U.., ed.
Sir\Villiun ;\foln,.orth, ii [Loadon: John Bohn, 184•D· ' Ibid., Preface, p. xxiii.

INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
appeared in 1679, and some other books were silenced. In 1669, the
Cambridge authorities forced one Daniel Scargil, who had defended
some theses from the 'Leviatlian,' to reCl\nt publicly, and assert that
his vicious life had been due to hi� Hobbist principles. John Fell, . . .
dean of Christ Church, introduced some contemptuous remarks upon
Hobbes into a Latin tm11slation of Wood's 'History and Antiquities,'
and persisted, in spite of a remonstrance from Hobbes. Many attacks
upon his doctrines by disti11guished writers were also appearing . . . .
Hobbes produced a fermentation in English thought not surpassed
until the advent of Darwinism. ff/hilt, hMctvn-, tht oppanmts of
Habbtt wtn co1111tltss, his Liogrnphtr could diswvtr only a single sup­
p�rftr. 'Hobbism• was an occasional name ofreproach unti
l che middle
of che eighteenth century (he is mentioned on the title-page of'Deism
Revealed,' 1751), although hi� philosophy had long been eclipsed by
i one of Kortholt's 'three impostors' (1680) along
Locke's 'E�-say.' He s
with Spin07.a and Herbert of Cherbury. In Farquhar's 'Constant
Couple,' i 669, the hypocritical debauchee carries Hobbes in his
pocket; and among 'Twelve Ingcnious Characters,' 1 686, is a dissolute
town-fop who takes about 'two leaves of Leviathan.' . . . Atterbury
holds him up as a warning in a sermon, 'on the terrors of conscience.'
(i 734) . . . He was reviled on all sides ns the typical atheist, materialist,
political absolutist, and preacher of ethical selfishness.•
The part of Hobbes's philosophy which came under the
most frequent and bitter attack was, significantly, his doc­
trine of the state of nature and the law of nature. Mr. John
Bowle, who has recently examined the critical literature on
1-Iobbes, points out that he was a 'pioneer philosopher and
a prince of heretics', for he had 'the courage, or the rashness,
to break away from all the old ideas'.Z But 1-Iobbes's rashness
merely helped to bring about a general denunciation.
First, his critics unanimously deny 'the reality and use of
Hobbes's state of nature, both as a fact and as an hypothesis'.3
They also find that his law of nature is based on a blas­
phemous rejection of the principle that the true moral order
is based on an immutable law, which finds its ultimate source
in the Law of God. liis law of nature is said, in fact, to be
1 Stt Note D, p. :06.
• John Bowl<, H�1 ••JI/ii C'itiri (Lond0<1: Jooalhan Cape, 19; r), p. 46.
, lbi.d., p. 101.
THE PROBLEM O F PERSECUTION
grounded on philosophical materialism, or Epicureanism
which denies the transcendent reality of the spiritual dimen�
sion of the universe.
Second, Hobbes's view of human nature is characterized
as both cynical and determin istic; or as Bishop Bramhall says
of his theory: 'A moral Heathen would blush for shame to
see such a catalogue of the Laws of Nature'.•
Third, Hobbes is called to task for eliminating the
traditional distinction between government and society,
thereby denying the possibility that the government may be
called to account before an ultimate authority which is not
dependent on the will of man-that is, the judgement of
God and His divine law.
Finally, Hobbes's theory is rejected as being utterly im­
practicable and in defiance of the rules of prudence or
practical wisdom.
On the Interpretation ofLocke's Treati1es
( In view of this general, persistent, and unqualifiedly hostile
reaction to 1-Iobbes's doctrines, and taking into account
what we have so far seen regarding Locke's great-even
inordinate-caution, it is necessary now to consider this
question in proceeding to the interpretation of his Two
Treatises of Government: If Locke were, in fact, to adhere in
his mature politicaJ philosophy to certain conceptions which
are analogous in their heterodoxy to Ilobbes's views-and
especially to the idea of the 'unsocial' and secular state of
nature-how likely is it that he would openly admit such
agreement? \V"ould he not rather find a means to disguise
his agreement by deliberately seeming to follow the tradi­
tional and therefore acceptable views on natural law? And
would he not then also, and quite logically, 'decry' the name
of llobbes ?
The suggestion that Locke may deliberately have con­
cealed a debt to Hobbes is by no means a new one. A number
of Locke's contemporary critics-more alive perhaps than
• Quo1«1 n
i Bowle, op. cit., p. 189.

TNT.ERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
we are today to the great possibilities inherent in deliberately
vague, ambiguous, and complicated writing because more
immediately aware of conditions which may produce it­
flatly and openly charged him with being a 'Hobbist� Of
these, the most outspoken and relentless in his attacks was
a clergyman, John Edwards of Cambridge. Edwards pub­
lished three pamphlets auacking Locke's theories of reli­
g1on, education, and morals, and was especially critical �f
the Reasonableness of Christianiry. He states the heart of his
criticism in a pamphlet published in 1697. He begins by
stating that Locke's criticisms of the university system in
England are exactly the same as those contained in Hobbes's
Leviathan. He then argues that Locke has also taken the
central thesis of his Reaso11able11ess of Christianiry from
Hobbes, who is elsewhere described by Edwards as 'the
great master and lawgiver of the profess'd atheists'.' Ed­
wards says of Locke :
Nor is he pleas'd with our old Christianity, but hath offer'd a new
scheme to the world, the same (rhc very same in words, as well a.� to
the thing) with what Mr. Hobbes propounded as the perfect and com­
plcat model of Faith, viz: 'To believe in Christ is nothing else than to
believe that Jesus is the Christ: and no other faith, besides this article,
is requir'd to eternal life. De Cive. cap. 18. The belief of this article,
Jesus is the Christ or the Messiah, is all the Faith Requir'd for Salva­
'
tion. Leviathan. part :2. Chapt. 43. This is the doctrine wh ich is
reviv'd and furbish'd up in the pretended Reaumablentn of Chri s­
tianity; and you see whence it is borrow'd. When that writer was
framing a New Christianity, he took Hobbes' Leviathan for the New
Testament, and the philosopher of Malmesbury for our Saviour and
the Apostles.•
As for the reason and the method by which Locke proceeds,
Edwards says, in another of his pamphlets, that men like
Locke
. . . cunningly keep up this conceit of the necessity of but one Article,
1 Edward,,. &tW 'f/K,:,11tt1 C01Kd'lli11z . . . Ati�;,,., p. 1:.9.
i.john EdwU'ds, A Brit/ p;,,J;,4,;p, of 1A1 F�f'l�11t11l Artic.kt cf t&� CJ.ristian F4it�
. tlk Clu11, U1UWrtitit1 ••" P•Mick S<A.W, F,.... /l"fr. Lod'1 Refi«tius "/'<" T"­
A• Al1 .f
i• Hu B'Jllk efEJM<4liM, ''" (Londoo, 16g7l.:Ep. Ocd.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF LOCKE'S TREATISES 23
because it makes for their own Preservation and Safety, that neither
the Magistrate nor Ecclesiastical Power in any country may take
occasion to animadvert upon them; For why should they trouble and
molest them for holding such doctrines as are not of the Foundations
ofre ligi on, as are of no necessity to be believed . . . . And hence also we
see that is the reason of their talking so warmly for liberty: This is
done to secure themselves, that though they broach never so Per­
nicious Opinions, they may not fall under the lash of the Magistrate.'
And a bit later on, Edwards says of Locke's use of Scrip­
tures:
i a dia/,Qfical wwl . . . . His handling of Scripture, and making
. . . it s
that use of it which he doth, is an abusing of it. Such treating of the
Holy Book is desecrating it; and whilst he talks Scripture, he pro­
phanes it.•
Edwards was not alone in making this kind of charge
against Locke. Almost at the same time, Richard \Vest, a
Fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, brought out a pamph­
let in which be elaborately showed how Locke proves the
thesis of the Reasonableness of Christianity in exactly the same
way and with the same biblical quotations used by I-Iobbes.
West concludes :
I need not produce more instances from Mr. Hobbs, to shew that
our author and he agree concerning the necessity of believing this one
article only; and have taken the same method for the proof of it, by
citing several texts from the preaching ofour Saviour, and His Apostles,
in the Acts, and no farther. For if anyone will be so curious as to read
them both over, he willfind that thty only dijftr so much as a copy dots
from an origina/.3
That Locke has followed I-Iobbes without admitting it is
also argued by the Bishop of \Vorcester. In this case, the
issue was the theoretical point of whether there is, in nature,
a real 'essence' of things in general; or whether,Locke as
argues, that the common nature of things lies only in an
1 Edwudt., S2t.ilua11JI,., Un1UJ!'J, p. 65. 2 lhid., P· 93·
s Ridurd Wcat, An1"'3f/w,,krt1 On 11 !Are IJ4'* Entituk4 •TJJe R.t.3tfltfal!�"-t-" �J Ctri$·
tim<llJ A• [kf;.,,re,/in'"- Smpt•nl' (Oxford, 16g7}, p. 65 (emphuis '"pplied).
24 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
abstract idea about them. The 'Bishop of Worcester states
the issue, and then implicitly charges Locke with having
taken his nominalism from I-Iobbes :
I know not how it comes to pass, that a man spinning books out of
his own thoughts (as Locke claims to do] should hit so luckily upon
the thoughts ofanother man: I do not mean now, about clear and dis­
tinct ideas, but about this point of univer;al names. For Mr. Hobbs,
in his Chapter of Speech [ Lroiathan, pt. i, ch. 4], tells us, that names
were to ser\"e for marks or notes of remembrance, and therefore were
called signs.1
The Bishop thereuPon proceeds to examine a number of
passages from Locke, which, he suggests, are suspi ciously
like those in Hobbes.
Finally, there is the fact that a number of scholars at
Oxford were so suspicious about Locke's t reatment of the
law of nature-especially in the Essay-that they also
accused him of being a Hobbist. This is brought out in some
letters which passed between Locke and Tyrrell in 1690. In
June of that year Tyrrell outlined a number of criticisms
which he had heard at Oxford. The primary objection, says
Tyrrell, is that Locke appears by his treatment of the Jaw of
nature to have 'rejected all virtue and vice, and the law by
which it is established, out of a commonwealth, and ab­
stracted from divine revelation into the praise or dispraise
that men give to certain actions'.2 Tyrrell then says that
Locke's argument could easily lead to the conclusion that
drunkenness (provided only that it is generally approved) is
a 'true virtue'. Tyrrell concludes :
. . . [All this] seems to come very near what is so much cried out
upon in Mr. Hobbes when he asserts in a state of nature, out of a
commonwealth, there is no moral good or evil, virtue or vice, but in re­
spect of those persons that practice it or think it so.J
These charges may have nettled Locke, for he apparently
was angry and replied in a curt fashion. I n any case, Tyrrell
was resentful, and said : ' I did intend no more than to give
1 Sli11.og·Recl_, op. cit., p. 108. 1 Locke �tss.. c. 2.z., fol. 90-
O N THE INTERPRETATION OF LOCKE'S TREATISES •S
you an account, not of my own, but of other men's ccnsures'.1
He then doggedly returns to the main point: what is the
so u r�t.h.c-.J.aw..of nat11re,_as...Lockeunderstand� i t ? He
queries Locke in the following manner:
I could not tell positively what reply to make (to those who asked
what is your source of the law ofnature), because you do not expressly
tell us where to find this law, unless in the Scriptures, and since it is
likewise much doubted by some whether the rewards and punishments
you mention can be demonstrated or established by your divine la\\--S,
which I am satisfied is the same with that which others call the law of
nature. Though I mufffrtt/y ft/IytJu thatyourulfhave bu11 11 i greatpart
the tJaOJion of this mistake sinct yqu there tale 110 notict at all of God's
rroealtd u•ill or law, givm in tht Srripturu; which certainly were not
intended only to discover Gospel mysteries, but chieBy as a rule where­
by men might more plainly and easily know their duty towards God,
and their neighbours, and judge of the moral good and end of their
actions, then they could by the law of nature or mere reason alone. So
that ifsome mistook your meani ng, it was not out of ill-will, butbecause
you did not more clearly express what you meant by a divine law; since
it had been easy for you to have added, in a parenthesis, 'which others
call the law of nature'; or else, to have also expressly mentioned the
revealed law of God, as distinct from that, to have taken away all
ambiguity.•
Locke's reply to this letter from Tyrrell is evasive and
ambiguously worded. He says, for instance, regarding the
point that he has not told where to find the law of nature:
I do not remember I anywhere tell you it is to be found in the Scrip­
tures. Cannot I tell you in matter offact that some men-many men­
do compare their actions to a divine law and thereby formed the ideas
of their moral rectitude or pravity without telling where that law is
to be found rJ
Much more of the same follows, and Locke ends the letter in
a manner which is typical of him-i.e. without ever having
I Loe.kc f\ilSS., c. ::.:_, lol. 91. l b.a\'c not •ttn Locke'• reply to the E.nt lettcr--it au:y not
be exu.ot-but Tyrrdl't letter shows thir ht: appcired to resent the report.
2 Ibid. (emr-h.u-is tupplied). Tyrrell thu1 ulh attention to the fic:t that silence on crucial
poinu rru.y very well ni dicate rcjcctio."\ of the doctrine involved.
> Ibid. • Locke MSS., <. 2f, Cot 177.

26 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
really replied to either of the two main objections which had
been advanced by Tyrrell.
It may of course be said that such criticism and suspicion
prove nothing. The men in question, it may be objected, were
zealots and 'witch-hunters', ready and willing to smell out
heresy even where none existed; or they may simply have been
careless and quite mistaken in their interpretation of the pas­
sages in question. Certainly the intemperate, almost obscene
quality of Edward's attacks makes one wonder whether th�
judgements of so choleric and abusive a man are worthy of
seri?us considcrati?n. There is also the fact ofLocke's seeming
demals, as well as his general reputation for probity in his deal­
ings and honesty in intellectual matters-both ofwhich might
cast douht on the Iikelihood ofhis resorting to any such devices.
These objections must, however, yield to the combined
w�ight of th� evidence amassed in the preceding pages.
First, Locke s apparent concern to proceed with great
caution in his activities may, of course, have been exag­
gera�e? . in some tes�ects. But one cannot deny that the
poss1b1hty of persecut10n was for him a real one; and even f i of reply is perfectly consonant with the pro�edure of the
he was inordinately cautious, one must take that fact itself
into account in the reading and interpretation of the pub­
lished writings. On this point it is well to note that one does
not impugn Locke's probity by raising the question of
whether he resorted to the tactics in question; for what might
today_ within a liberal society be looked upon as somewhat
questionable hardly applies to the historical circumstances of
seventeenth-century England. As Mr. McLachlan and
others have shown, many other men of the highest rectitude
and greatest stature-such as Locke's friend Isaac Newton
-felt it necessary or at least prudent to conceal their hetero­
dox views. In the words of the article on Locke in the
Biograpl1ical ,Pictiona? of Modern Rationalists, 'his language
�ust be �ead m relation to the persecuting age in which he
hved'.1 Even the far bolder Spinoza, living under freer
1 f MO/krn Rathnalist1• ed. Jottph McC1be (London: Watts
A Bt'ot"•/"-ltal Dictt'ott4T.J o
& Co., 1 9:0), p. +sJ·
ON THE INTERP RETATI ON O F LOCKE'S TREATISES 27
co�ditions, was recognized by Hallyburton, the divine who
believed th�t yo�g Ai�enhead was corrupted by I-fobbes,
to have written m an obscure and designedly involved'
manner.'
Second, there is positive proof, from the private papers
of �eke that at least one of the specific charges made
!
�gamst him-that he deliberately feigned innocence regard­
m_g Ilobbes and the Socinian writers-is sound. In addition,
of course, there are the other numerous indications of his
great ;eticence elabo�ated in the preceding pages.
Third, an? most important for establishing the proce­
dure by which to approach the T1·carises is the distinct
pattern which emerges when one reflects up�n the assembled
elements of the pr�blem: Locke is accused by several per­
.
sons of havlng taatly followed llobbes on certain crucial
points in his writings-specifically, in the Reasonableness and
the f!-ssa)'· Lo�e rebuts. His public replies are masterpieces
o_f c1rcumlocuaon, often of unconscionable length, and at
times monumentally boring. But to his critics this manner
original writings, and is exactly what they expect. For they
argue that it is not only possible, but a fact, that Locke
partially and deliberately conceals his heterodoxy and his
indebtedness to proscribed authors behind a fas-:ade of
traditional phrases, ambiguous and designedly confused
state_m�nts, and p�ous denials. Yet they are also compelled to
_
admit, 1f only tacitly 1n some cases, the effectiveness of the
technique : Locke, by very careful writing, achieves his true
end of insinuating the central tenets of heterodox doctrines
while at the same time he protects himself from persecution
and also, perhaps even more important, gains a hearing for
his works by seeming to reject those very doctrines. The
fact that several different critics, many of whom do not seem
to have known each ot11er, reached this conclusion on the
basis of independent examinations of different facets of
Locke's teachings reveals a fairly widespread awareness
1 HDWell's S:at1 Trials, �iii. 93)·

INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
among educated men of this manner of writing as well as of
the difficulties in interpretation to which it gives rise.'
It seems to me, then, on the basis of the foregoing evi­
dence, that one ought not to reject out of hand the possibility
that Locke's Two Treatises of Government are written in pre­
cisely the manner and with the intention indicated above.
'¥hcther it is so in fact is, of course, a separate problem
which can be resolved only by a careful examination of the
texts. But then two very pertinent questions arise. First, if
Locke's Two Treatises were written (as is usually alleged) as
a 'pamphlet' or piece d'occasion to defend the recently con-·
summated Glorious Revolution, is it reasonable to suppose
that he could have lavished on them the care in composition
which such a complicated method of writing seems to
require ? Second, even if such care in composition can be
shown co have been possible, what princi ples of interpreta­
tion are to guide us in explicating the text of the Treatises?
To the first of these questions a compelling answer is pro­
vided by Mr. Peter Laslett, who recently has made pains­
taking researches into the period of composition of the
Treatises. His conclusion is both interesting and surprising.
Although it has come to be general ly accepted that Locke
wrote them as a 'rationalization' of the Revolution of 1688,
Mr. Laslett argues quite convincingly that they were con­
ceived and cast into nearly com plete form in the period from
1 679 to 1682. He also allows for the lesser possibility that
they were completed by Locke in Holland in about 168 7.
But it is extremely unlikely, he argues, that they were written
in I 689, during the hectic six-month interval between
Locke's return to England and the appearance of the first
edition of the work.• This being the case, not only would
Locke have had the leisure-whether in En gland prior to
1683, or in llolland after that date up until r 6 8 8-to write
his book with the great care for which he is well known,3
1 for 11. general trcatmcnt of the problem, sec Leo Strau11, Ptr1ecutlcn 11n(/ tlu Art cf
Writing (O!cncoe, 11Hnoi1 : The Free Prces, 1952).
2 Prter Laelett, 'The E.ugli.Jt Revoluti.on and Locke'1 "1\\'0 Treatises of Covcrnmea.l" •,
T�e CamhrlJ:e Hiuorico/ Y•urnal, xi i (1956), +0-55. • See Note E, p. 207.
ON THE INTERPRETATIO� OF LOCKE'S TREATISES
•9
but it would be even more pl ausible for him to have done so
with great caution as well-after all, certain of his views
reflect precisely the kind o f doctrine for which Sydney was
sent to the gallows in 1683,' and Locke could not know that
a revolution favourable to his point of view was in the
making.
We turn then to the second and even more important
question of the principles of interpretation which are to be
applied to the Treatises. Here, it seems to me not only de­
sirable but necessary, for purposes of historical accuracy, to
look to Locke himself as much as possible for guidance, and
to apply to the reading of his work the same rigorous and
demanding standards which he set for himself in interpret­
ing other writ ings. A general statement of those standards
is to be found in the fascinating Preface to his paraphrase of
certain of the Epistles of St. Paul.• Those of his arguments
which are relevant to our purposes here may be summed up
as follows: First, that a n author of stature-and Locke him­
self certainly was such an author-presumably has some
purpose in writing as he does, and that therefore the ob­
scurities and perplexities which may appear at first reading,
or even after several readings, are not easily to be presumed
as due to want of coherence, perspicacity or consistency on
the part of the author. They may, in fact, be part of the
author's plan or method. Second, that the most reliable
'clues' or 'guides' as to the 'true m eaning' of such an author,
especially the more obscure parts of his writing, are to be
had from the works themselves, and are to be 'gathered
from thence with stubborn attention, and more than com­
mon application'.• Finally, that it is 'vain', if one would really
understand the author as he meant hi msclfto be understood by
attentive readers, to import into the process of interpretation
1 Ct. 1upr"1 p. iS·
a •An Bssa.y for the Undcrittndiug o! St. Paul1s .Epi�lles, by Con1ulting St. Pau I tlim·
11elf1 {lf'ori1, vii. iii-xxii). One of the. key pieces of aJvic:c l.oekc tc11Jer1, and Ollc v.·hich is
ju$tly worthy of being applied to the Two Trra1i1rs, is du1t the rctdcr niuat read the work:
over and O\'Cr until the ""'hole and its respective p3rrs art' gr111J�d in their true artic-ubtion.
> Ibid., p. rv.

30 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
anachronistic philosophical, literary, or other preconcep­
tions-above all, if they postdate the period of composition
of the work in question.
By the strict application of these rules, we are led to even
more precise and revealing indications, in Locke's own
writings, of exactly how he conceived of the need for con­
cealment in writing or speaking, and of the problem for
interpretation which this poses. In each of his three most
important works-the Essay, the Reaso11ahle11ess of Chris-
1ia11i1y, and the Trearius-Locke devotes attention specific­
ally to the general problem of communication of one's
thoughts, and also to the more specialized problem of 'dis­
courses' or writings. The Essay, for instance, contains the
most theoretical discussion, dealing as it does with the 'use
of words' in a general sense and with problems such as the
distinction between 'philosophical' and 'civil' discourses.'
The Reaso11able11ess, by contrast, contains a number of very
suggestive passages on the necessity for 'caution' in the
communication of religious views and the means by which
this may be accomplished, particularly in situations where
'imprudent' behaviour might frustrate one's true objectives
or even endanger oneself.i The crucial example Locke refers
to here is none other than the behaviour of Jesus, whom
Locke repeatedly describes as 'prudent' and 'reserved', and
as one who had good reason to 'take great heed to his words
�nd actions', living as he did under Tiberius (Caesar), a
'Jealous and cruel prince, who encouraged informations,
and filled his reign with executions for treason . ',l And
there is much on how Jesus spoke 'obscurely' or 'enig­
matically' or in 'proverbs' so that he 'perplexed' his mean­
ing, yet could 'afterwards' be 'understood'.• Locke also says
that the execution of Socrates induced men such as Plato to
conceal their true thoughts on 'the nature and being of the
one God . . .'. Locke says : '. . . they were fain, in their
r E-n4,J, IU. ix. ]1 s, Is; 111. xi. I I.
• Tk Rta"""6/mm•fCAritria•ilJ (ll'orb, vi. 35, 4�1, •U-4S• 48--19, 56--59, 6J�4.
S1 , 86, 9<>, 95). ' lbid., p. 81. • Ibid., apcci2lly pp. 59, 87, 95.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF LOCKE'S TREATISES 3r
outward professions and worship, to go with the herd, and
keep �o their religion established by law . . .'.1 Finally, in the
.
Treatues, m references and allusions which will be examined
in greater detail presently, Locke speaks of the necessity on
occ:ision for 'pr?prietJ:' of speech in 'discourses' on political
so�1ety, ?f the d1fficult.'es to be encountered in reading works
written m such a fashion, and of the great 'pains' which the
'reader' must therefore expend if he will rightly understand
the intention of the author.i
This repeated emphasis, in a variet}' of contexts) on the
.
conneXJon between restrictive and even dangerous political
and religious conditions and the specific rhetorical and
literary devices by which a speaker or writer may partially
�
�onceal his ful inte�tion or meaning, is too striking to be
ignored, especially 1f we follow Locke's own principle of
looking into the works in question for the best 'clues' as to
�
t eir 'true meaning'. It is not plausible, given Locke's own
circumstances and behaviour, to view this repeated emphasis
as simply incidental to the subjects he was treating. To dis­
count the possibility that he was, in such passages, also
indirectly indicating the way in which his own most serious
works must be read in order that they may reveal their 'true
mea1ing' would be to miss an essential point of such dis­
'.
cussions.
Furthermore, Locke's private papers once again supply
valuable supplementary information on this very point. His
Journals and other papers reflect what is clear in the pub­
. .
lished works : that, over the years, he was much concerned
with the literary problem created by the need to accommo­
date one's 'public' views to prevailing opinions. Perhaps the
most revealing passage of all occurs in his Journal in 1678,
more than a decade prior to the publication of any of his own
works. He was, at the time, reading a French treatise on the
attirude of the 'vulgar' or 'common people' toward matters
of religious doctrine and, as he often did, copied out a
, lbid., P· I J6.
' Tr�a11�11 Pref.ice to the Rt.adi:r; I. 1«s. 7, 109; II, sec. 52.
31 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S 1'WO TREATISES
passage and commented upon it. The entire Journal entry
is as follows :
Lu t1prit1 populoirtl s'offement de tout ce qui rlpugne a leun
prljugez. D'Espagne. c. 10.
One ought to take care therefore in all discourses, whether narrative of
matter of fact, instructive to teach any doctrine, or persuasive, to take
careof shocking the received opinions of those one has to do with,
whether true or false. J. L.1
The Journal entry is listed, significantly, under two key
'marginal' words, 'Prejudice' and 'Discourse', indicating the
close link which the two problems had in Locke's own mind.
Furthermore, the initials 'J. I ..' indicate that the remarks in
English are Locke's own thoughts, for this is a technique
which he employs throughout the Journals. D'Espagne's
work, moreover, contains no mention of methods of dis­
coursing, indicating that the remarks in the treatise in
question were simply the occasion for Locke's reflection on
the literary problem created by an author's confrontation of
'prejudice'.
Other, even earlier, entries reflect Locke's concern over
the problem created by the 'prejudices' and 'opinions' of the
many. In September of 1677, while reading in a book of
Voyages by M. Thevenot, he is led to make the comment
that
There areso few that have either the means to know or the ability
t� examine.
all th�t is necCSS:1ry to be ur1dcrstood for the deciding
.
differences in rehgton, that to set them upon inquiry is to expose the
greatest part of mankind either to the artifices of the subtle, or to a
perfect haphazard or eternal doubt.•
A long entry in the Journal for 1677 applies this reasoning
on an eve� more general basis, when Locke argues that men,
of necessity, grow up accepting the 'opinions' which are
current in their particular society. These opinions come to
be looked upon 'with reverence, as the standards of right
1 Sec Note F1 p. 2.07. i Locke: 1v1SS.. f.
O N THE INTERPRETATION O F LOCKE'S TREATISES 33
and wrong truth and falsehood, when perhaps those so
. '.
sacred opm1ons were but the oracles of the nursery'. It is,
� �
th�efore, ex�ee ingly di cult for most men to enter upon a
cntical examtnatton of their most 'sacred' opinions, not only
because they lack the leisure or the ability, but also because
they often find that it is 'not safe to stand alone' and there­
fore 'convenient to herd somewhere'.• A more succinct and
compelling formulation of the problem is set down by
Locke, in 1 6 8 1 , thus:
The three great things that govern mankind arc reason, passion and
superstition. The first govcrn[s) a few; the two last share the bulk of
mankind and pos.5CSS them in their turns; but superstition mostpower­
fully, and produces the greatest mischiefs. J. L.1
Given such a conception of the writing of 'discourses' as
is sketched in the foregoing paragraphs, the difficulty for
the interpreter of Locke's works amounts to this: How is it
possible to distinguish between Locke's 'true meaning' and
his use of and apparent adherence to generally accepted or
approved doctrines? In particular, for instance, how can one
determine whether or to what extent Locke really accepts
certain scriptural principles or arguments of Hooker and
others, by which he appears to buttress his argument in the
Two Treatises at crucial points ?
This difficulty must be resolved, I believe, by once again
relying as fully as possible on Locke's own explicit principle:
that one should look into the work in question for the 'clues'
which are meant to reveal its 'true meaning'. This means, in
the first place, that it is necessary to discard as unsound the
usual present-day view according to which little of impor­
tance is contained in the First Treatise. Locke himself-who
by his own explicit principles, as well as by common sense,
must be presumed to have known what he was about in
writing as he did-insists in the Preface to the Reader
that the Two Treatises, taken together, constitute a single
'discourse' or 'book'. \Ve have no grounds, therefore, for
Locke �fSS., f. i. fob.. 1:s-30. ' Loeke MSS.,(. 5,fol S9·
fols. 270-1.
J
z.
000� D
 lNTERPRETINO LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
34
discarding the first half because it today seems dull and
pointless. This is a point of crucial importance because, as I
expect to show now, many indications of how :�e wor as a
whole is meant to be read occur, rather surprisingly, 1n the
con tex t ofhis criticism of Filmer. There is also the further fact
t hat a number of topics which arc developed in the Second
Treatise cannot be fully understood without attention to the
First Treatise and its treatment of the same topics.'
To begin with, Locke's treatment of Filmer, taken as a
whole, reveals a curious ambivalence. On the one hand, he
obviously rejects the idea of 'patriarchalism' as absurd, and
even implies that Filmer is eit her a man of monumental
stupidity to offer it, or else a dupe of a party or interest.2
On the other hand, Locke, quite surprisingly in view of his
contempt for Filmer's intellect and the substance of his
argument for patriarch alism, suggests in a number of places
that Filmer is a 'master of style' in the construction of
political 'discourses'.' To be more specific, Locke argues
generally as follows ; Filmer has deliberately presented
certain of his arguments, and above all his central concept of
'paternal power', in such a way as partially to conceal their
full meaning and bearing. He has done this because to
have openly described his 'fatherly authority' would have
frightened hi s readers, and thus prevented his works from
obtaining a hearing. Thus, when Filmer fails at the outset
of Patriarcha to give a full and explicit definition of 'fatherly
authority', Locke says that the reader is not to think this was
an 'oversight', or that a man of Sir Robert's skill in writing
'discourses of this naturc'-i .c. pol itical discourses-would
be so 'careless of the point in hand' as to omit i t by accident
or dullness of mind. On the contrary, says Locke-and here
he employs a suggestive analogy in view of the fact that he
was himself a physician-Filmer did so deliberately and
accomplished his end by a clever technique:
. . . like a waryphysician, when he would have his patient swallow some
s Tr101i111, 1, Sett. 13, 20, 13, )l., 49, 67, 109, 145, J•7·
I Cf. i11/r1J, rP- 15-90.
l Ibid. I,
a.ect. 109-10, 7. See 1110 sea. 4-4, 77, 111, 1 1J, 137, 147, 151, 163.
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF LOCKE'S TREATISES H
harsh or corrosive liquor, he mingles it with a large quantity of that
which may dilute it that the scattered parts may go down with less
� feeling and cause less aversion.•
Havi ng stated this as Filmer's general aim and method,
Locke then proceeds to present in great detail a fascinating
catalogue of the specific l iterary techniques by which such a
work in political theory may be written, as well as of the
rules for reading a work so written. For one thing, Locke
says, Filmer has employed a very 'pecuJiar way of writing'.�
He has del iberat ely 'scattered' his meaning 'up and down in
his writings'.1 He also has seen fit deliberately to huddle
'several suppositions together and that in doubtfuJ and
general terms . . . ',4 1-:le deliberately uses certain word s
differently in different contexts, yet gives the appearance,
on the surface, of retaining the same meaning.5 Or he
begins a section or a chapter in one sense, and concludes
it in another.6 In certain cases, he proceeds 'warily'
with an argument, and only 'doubtful ly' touches on its
main points, yet relics on the conclusion-or rather
assertion-to build his overall structure.7 In short, 'clear,
distinct speaking', says Locke, docs not 'everywhere' serve
his ' purpose'.8
A secon d kind of tech nique concerns the peculiar use of
'authority', especially the Bible. Filmer, says Locke, alleges
a certain biblical verse means a certain thing, and adduces
it in support of his argument. Yet certain very peculiar
things appear once one looks into the matter : biblical verses
are cleverly quoted or mutilated, and very often have an
utterly different meaning from what Filmer says (or at least
implies) they do.9 In other cases Filmer appears co use the
Bible for 'authority' as to what is 'right' or proper; yet it
mrns out that he in fact is treating it as a 'history' of matter
1 Ibid. I, s«:. 7 (empb11s • Ibid. I, 1«. 4+ ' Ibid. I, sec. 9·
i supplied).
• Ibid. J, tee. 10. s Ibid. I,•«•· :o, z;, 71, 11· 6 Ibid. I, tee:. :??...
1 Ibid. T, ice. z;.
7 Ibid. J, ice. 1 1 1 .
t �for a.ample', on Gt-n. i. 28, ibid. l, f«I. 13. i9; on Ccn. ii
i. 16, secs. ff, 49; oa
the i.t1uprcuti0<1 of the Fifth Commandment, sea. 6o-62. And !<e L<>cke'J general il•te­
ment in sec. 165.
l6 INTERPRETINO LOCKE'S Tff/O TREATISES
of fact.• Or take the case of authorities other than the Bible.
Filmer, says f.ockc, in certain places condemns recourse to
the works of 'poets' and 'philosophers' for the settling of
crucial points such as the origins of government. But he
finds it convenient in other contexts to fall back upon those
same proscribed authorities-when it serves his 'purpose'.2
Still another variant is for Filmer, by interpretation, to
modify the text-such as changing plurals to singulars­
and thus give it a meaning more suitable co the immediate
purpose.1 Or he makes an assertion very confidently but
fails to provide the usual support in authority, especially
the appropriate biblical passage.•
Now Locke acknowledges-indeed strongly emphasizes
-that works written in this manner are a great trial to the
reader who would really understand them. But he goes
beyond this: he provides specific, if not exhaustive, illustra­
tions of how one must proceed in the reading of such a work.
The general rule is that the reader must take nothing for
granted and exert great 'pains' in the examination of the
text. More specifically, it is necessary, for instance, to bring
together all the 'scattered' passages on a particular topic in
order to see what the core of meaning is. It is necessary
to make painstaking word-by-word analyses of the many
passages in which the various 'suppositions' are 'huddled
together'. Terms variously used must be compared in the
contexts where they occur, and the 'doubtfulness' of the
meaning resolved by reAection upon the overall intention of
the writer. As for quotations and texts, Locke's rule is never
to trust Filmer. He constantly goes to the original from which
Filmer quotes, and by a process of exegesis and interpreta­
tion claims to show that there arc shocking discrepancies
between Filmer's use of a text and the meaning of the origi­
nal in context-discrepancies which, when fully explored,
1 Tr�o.h1�1, l, acc. I Sl·
1 Ibid. l, sea. 3.. • S+-
11 in tcct.. 3t and J4; be dwtga
J Ibid. I, sec:. 32. Cf. Loclce"t own quotation of Gen. ix ..
1hand' to "hands' three times within three 1«110111. See alJo ttt. 39·
.. Ibid. 1, !CCS. 107-9·
ON THE INTERPRETATION OF J,OCKE'S TREATISES 37
reveal the true meaning of the author to be different from
what he wishes it to appear on the surface.•
But is Locke altogether serious in this almost incredibly
elaborate treatment of works by a man of Filmer's calibre?
The suspicion grows, as one reads and re-reads the First
Treatise, then reflects upon the series of facts presented above
regarding I .ocke's own exceedingly cautious behaviour, that
much although not all of it is ironical and that Locke may
have chosen this oblique means to indicate the way in which
his own arguments must be read to reveal their 'true mean­
ing'.1 That suspicion becomes a virtual certainty once one
takes the trouble to apply to Locke's TreatiJes the very rules
of reading which he seems to suggest are necessary to use
on Filmer. Since this chapter is meant only to provide an
insight into the general method of interpretation employed,
a few examples must suffice at this point; others will be
found in the chapters which follow.
In the first place, Locke lays great stress on the technique
by which an author deliberately 'scatters his meaning up
and down' so that it can be grasped only with great difficulty.
The fact is that Locke himself follows precisely such a
procedure with regard to his most important concepts. Flis
thematic treatment of the state of nature seems to be stated
in chapter ii of the Second Treatise. But the treatment in that
chapter proves to be vague and inc.omplete, and Locke
remarks, at the very end of it, that only in the 'sequel' of the
'discourse' does he present his proof of men having existed
in 'such a state'.> Specific references to the state of nature
occur, then, in no fewer than twelve other chapters through­
out the Second Treatise and many of these, it develops, are
absolutely vital to an understanding of how Locke really
conceives of that state. In fact, some of the most important
statements occur near the very centre of the Second Trearise,
in the chapter titled 'Of the Ends of Political Society and
1 Sec the v1.riou1 panagn cittd inprrcedin,g note•, but ctpcciaDy JttS. i.o, SS1 So. r 1 J,
1 1 8.
2 See Cb. z. for a more c:1tcndcd truunent ofthe: lrw/1 ofmuning:.
J Trtatis.tJ, n, JCC. 1S·

38 DlTERPRETING LOCKE'S
Government'. Others appear near the very end of the Second
Treatise, in the chapter titled 'Of the Dissolution of Govern­
ment'. Furthermore, a careful analysis of all the different
uses and contexts-an analysis which is produced in Chapter
2 of the present study-reveals a surprisingly complex and
intricate 'evolution' of the meaning of the state of nature
from beginning to end of the Treatises.' This is not altogether
surprising in view of Locke's own oblique yet explicit
recognition of the possibility and the necessity for the use of
such a technique.
Nor is this by any means the only case in which such a
'scattering' occurs. Passages vital for understanding what
Locke means by the 'law of nature' are scattered throughout
?oth Treatises, and explicit references to the concept occur
m no fewer than seventeen out of the thirty chapters. By
Locke's own rules, one cannot simply assume that the sa.me
thing is meant in all places, or that he has revealed his mean­
ing unambiguously; instead, one must seek to reduce his
language to a consistent meaning, The same may be said for
his conception of'natural equality'; some ofthe most revealing
passages arc not in the Second Treatise, as one might at first
expect, but are buried under layers of polemical broadsides
in the F st7'
ir a
rc 1 whileothersoccur in intricate discussions
iu,_.
of such matters as 'parental power', 'conjugal society' and
the s�atus of 'slavery'.• Still other examples of Locke's
v:u:ied, perplexing and scattered usages occur with regard
to 1mportan� concept� s�ch as 'property',J 'forms of govern­
ment1,4 and prerogative .s In all such cases the task of inter­
P'.etation becomes exceedingly complex, as one seeks to
disentangle the thread of consistent meaning from the
�laborate surro�nding fabric. Yet Locke himself argues that
1t can be done 1f the reader takes the proper pains.
Secondly, Locke also lays great stress on the manifold
1 Sec irifra, pp. 73 tT.
86-88 to It, secs._;.:_..
i For c�am
_P.?c, cf. Trtati1t1, I, s-ecs.
: lb�J.f0'cct.§9:9 2 ;It, ch. v, �nd also sees. 94, 1?)-4, 173, 184.
Ibid. 1, •«•· s. 94, 1+0, 144, 145; 11, Itel. 102-, 106, 107, 116, 132, J 33, 149, 197,
198, io1, ii 3, 2' 8, �39· 1 Ibid. 11, 1cc1. 158, 16o, 166, i10.
O N THE INTERPRET ATION OF LOCKE'S TREATISES 39
TWO TR.EAT/SES
possibilities for partial concealment which inhere in the skil­
ful manipulation and quotation of authoritative texts.' But
the application of his own rules of procedure for detecting
h conce�l �ent reveals systematic and sometimes startling
s 1c
�
discrepancies m the use of 'authorities' in the Two Treatises.
Take first the Bible, which is unquestionably Locke's most
ven�rable and mos� frequently quoted 'authority'.• A
stra1�htforward reading of the First Treatise gives the im­
�ress1on th�t Locke i� very insistent upon the rigid applica­
.
tion of b1bhcal authority to support crucial points. A similar
.
readmg of the Second Treatise indicates that although Locke
uses fewer explicit biblical quotations, he none the less con­
tinues to do so on important points, such as the source of the
san��ions fo� punishment of murder/ the beginnings of
poht1cal society,4 the origins and limits of property,> the
natur� of parental power,6 and the right of rebellion against
an unjust conqueror.7 Thus the assumption can readily be
made that Locke is 'orthodox' in his acceptance of scriptural
te�chin�. B�t these impressions can be shown to be utterly
m1sleadmg 1f one takes the trouble-which Locke himself
says is necessary in such matters-to make a minute com­
parison of Locke's use of every biblical text with the original
passage as set into its biblical context. To take just one
example, for the moment, Locke at one point in the First
T e�tise insists. that Filmer has deliberately cut off part of a
;
b1bhcal verse m order to conceal how greatly the biblical
teaching contradicts Filmer's own argument. 'An half­
quotation', says Locke, 'is an half-reason.'• Yet Locke
1 It rmy be objeclcd, or coune, that discrepa."lcics can never be/''"''"to have their buis
i an attempt at con"2!lmcot. Vet Loe.kc in at least one place c•plicitly admits chmgini a
n
te�t to auit his purpose. For there i.s, in. the Lo\•clacc Coll«tion, 1 1bortLa.nd note inwhich
Locke boldly tdmitt that he deliberately mistra.nslaled part o( tn cttay by Pierre Nicole.
Locke 1ay1: 'Jn \4I of the 2nd treatitc l confess 1 have . . turned the autl1or'1 argument
,
directly ai1in1t bimtclf, which will plainly app.car ifyou compare Lhotc \\•hich ire the 111thor1.s
words with what 1 have made him speak ln the tran1btio11.' Ste Cr1n1ton, Jolin Lo&r,
pp. 175-6 •nd note 3, p. 176.
' Locke citct the Bible about eighty times in the First Tr1a1is1 ll'\J t\\'Cnty•two times n
i
.i- . 5._4, 8:.
4 Ibid II, fee. 1o9.
the S�rond Treatise.
s Ibid. It,1cc1. -:5, 311 38.
J Trtaliltt• JI. sec r [.
.
6 Jbid. Jl, uca.. s�, 67.
.
• Ibid. I, ••c. 6.
1 Ibid II, ICC. 196.
.
�o INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
himself does not scruple to give a half-quotation-or ?the:­
wise to distort or misquote biblical verses-if that suits his
purpose. An outstanding example occurs in the crucial
chapter 'Of Property', where L_g.cke a11p�rs to u �e the
,
Bible to prove that Cod gave the earth to �ankindJn
common',andthatHe also ordained rules for .its appropna­
tiOiiaif<tUse. On the latter point, Locke in good traditional
form supplies a biblical quote :
The same law of nature that does . . give us property does also
.
bound that property, too. 'God has given us all things richly' (I Tim.
vi. 17), is the voice of reason confirmed by nsp
i iration. But how far has
he given it us ? To enjoy. As much as any one cai:!._mak e use of �
t any
�of life befo
aEvant:t !e it spo'ilS';SO much he may y
b IUSJii&mHix:a­
_ Locke appears to rely, the same pattern of contradiction
Jlf_£Ert_r i!!. . . .1
Other biblical references and quotations also occur in the
chapter; so that even a fairly close reading gives the im­
_t Locke relies on the bi�lic�l teachi�g r:gardin�
p_ression tha
imP.ortant aspect� of __pr£Pei:!)'. But if one exammes the
biblical references in their originaTiorm and in context, and
then juxtaposes them to Locke's conclusions, ":'hich only
gradually emerge toward tneend of tne cnapter, tt becomes
clear tha_! Locke's use of authority in this case is really a
fas:ade. For instance, �ofLocke's fundamental argurnen_!s
turns out to be the practically unlimited 'right' to acquire
propero/ within political society. ft is true fl1arhe cites I
Timothy vi. 1 7 regarding the proposition that God has
given us things 'richly to enjoy'. But his use of this text is
essentially unbiblical, for when one reads the entire biblical
passage in context one realizes that whereas Locke extracts a
single line which appears to support the notion of 'enjoyil!g'
the use of things, the biblical teaching is actually a powerful
injunction to men not to place their trust in riches and the
goods of this life, but in riches of the spirit :
- -
Charge them that arc rich in this world, that they be not
1 Tr�otiks. U, J«. 31 ; and �f. c.ht tame usage at 1, toe. 40.
' Pe. cxv. 16 n
i ace:. 2 s; Cm. .xiii. s io J«, 3S; and Gen. n-xvi. 6 n
i the.tame tccti.o:l.
O N THE INTERPRETATION OF T.OCKE'S TREATISES 41
minded, nor trust in uncert.1in riches, but in the living God, who
us
giveth richly all things to enjoy;
That they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to dis­
tribute, willing to communicate;
Laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the
time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life.1
As for the important problem of whether government is
instituted by Cod, it is sufficient for the moment to note that
Locke's apparent acceptance of the traditional view is con­
tradicted by his actions, such as ignoring any of the usual
biblical proofs.1
If one turns from the Bible to other authorities on whom
may be observed. For instance, Locke appears to support
many of his main points byquotations from Richard Hooker.
Thu�i_n_2rd� to prove that.men were once actual� a.­ __
'state of nature', he-quotes a long passage from Hooker's
The Laws of. EalesiaJticnl Polity. Yet a comparison of the
original with Locke's use of It shows not only that Hooker
never uses the expression 'state of nature', but also that
Ffooker refers, in the passage quoted, to something different
from Locke's pre-political state.J Locke also quotes from
Hooker ostensibly to support the principle that the true end
of civil government is the 'preservation of property'; but a
reading of Ilooker reveals that the latter never says any such
thing.4 In two other instances (concerning the 'state of
niture' and 'natural law') Locke inserts seemingly innocent
explanatory parentheses into quotations taken from Hooker;
the parentheses turn out, upon close inspection, to have no
support in Hooker's text. They are in fact misleading addi­
tions made by Locke to give the impression that he is merely
following the respectable, orthodox doctrine of the great
' I Tim. ,-;. 17-19. Sec alao Loc-ke•a UJe of P •. e.Y-i ln Trtari.�1. I, S«. sS. He rar.s vcnc
]S into 'fctse 40, entirtly omlttin1 vtru J9·
J. This is showo in detail in Cb. 2, aloaa "·ilh other in.J,t.anccsof Lockc•s c.omptiutcd way
high-
ofwriting.
J Cf. Trt'1t1"su.._J1.,J.C'C. 15, �·ilh Richard Hooku, LAwt •/&tl,U1Ut1t:VE.olirJ, r.�
• er. Trcozt11e1, ll, ICC. 9•· with Hooker, op. cit. 1. ... S·
 INTERPRETING LOCKE'S Tlf!O TREATISES ON THE INTERPRETATION OF LOCKE'S TREATISES 43

churchman.' Tt is small wonder that another churchman,
Josiah Tucker, wrote in 1 7 8 1 that Locke deliberately con­
cealed the heterodoxy of his doctrines by pretending to
appeal to a venerable 'authority'.•
\�'e still have to examine what is perhaps the most sur­
prising and revealing example of Locke's ambiguous cita­
tion of 'authority'. In chapter viii of the Second Treati.re a
crucial question is whether there are, as Locke alleges, his­
torical instances of governments that were 'begun in peace'
and on the basis of the 'original compact'-that is, actual
occasions on which people 'free and in the state of nature'
have met andincorporated themselves into a 'commonwealth'
on the basis of the 'law of nature'.J As if to prove his point,
Locke adduces certain allegedly historical examples. He
begins with a reference to Rome and Venice, but rather
curiously gives no citation of authority nor any evidence for
these cases;• he next offers a quotation from Jose de Acosta's
history of the Indians in Peru ; and he then concludes his
brief list with the following remark:
And I hope that those who went away from Sparta with Palantus,
mentioned by Justin, I. iii. c. 4, will be allowed to have been freemen,
independent one ofrinother, nn<l to have set up a government over them­
selves by their own consent.s
The first point of interest about this remark is the fact that
whereas Locke previously seemed to be speaking of men
moving from the pristine state of nature into civil society for
the first time, he now refers to a case in which men already
living in a political order have left it to set up another, which
is a quite different case, and this raises some doubt concern­
ing the appropriateness of the example. Still, this is the only
place in the Treatises where Locke sees fit to cite a classical
historian, and it is also one of the exceedingly rare occasions
on which he sees fit to offer specific 'historical' examples to
1Cf. Trc11.J1ic1, 11, sec. 1s, with Hookt:r, op. cit. r. s. 1 ; and Trtdti11:1, 11, sec. 91, with
Hooker, op. cit. 1. s. 4-·
> Trt111u1 1, JI, irc.t. 9s-100, 101-6.
• See infra, p. 2101 Note P.
i Sc� NO(c G, p. zo7.
s Ibid. ll, s� 103.
back up his argument. Tt is all the more important, therefore,
to determine exactly what Locke may be intending to
convey.
If we do as Locke suggests is necessary in a discourse of
this kind, and look up the original source given in the last
example, a startling discrepancy immediately appears. The
fact is that Phalantus was the militant captain chosen by a
group of young Spartans, all of whom were illegitimate and
therefore disinherited. This band of young men felt com­
pelled to leave Sparta to seek their fortunes elsewhere, but
Justin says nothing of any explicit compact among them,
nor of their havingat that time intended to set up a politica
T
order, let alone one consciously grounded on the Lockean
'law of nature'. \\'hat he does tell us, however, is most
revealing, for he says that
Without taking leave of their mothers . . . from whose adultery
they thought that they derived dishonour, they set out to seek a place
of settlement, and being tossed about a long time, and with various
mischances, they at last arrived on the coast of Italy, where, after
seizing the citadel of the TarentincS, and expelling the old inhabitants,
they fixed their abode.1
V,That is more, the sequel of the story in Justin reveals that
Phalantus gained great honour for the cunning and the
personal sacrifice by which he ensured the permanent dis­
possession of the original inhabitants.
This is clearly a classic example of the founding of a new
commonwealth by the conquest and dispossession of an
existing one; furthermore, it was accomplished by a band of
brigands under the direction of a shrewd and able Spartan
captain. Yet Locke cites the story as though it were a classic
example of just the opposite kind-that is1 the peaceful
founding, by contract, of a new commonwealth in vacuis
lods.• This flagrant contradiction, of which we become aware
only by pursuing the seemingly casual reference to Justin's
History, makes it necessary to consider '!.hether what Locke
• Justin, Hi1t''7 oftlu IY�IJ, £1:ff
•ct1
i/r
m-. Trot"'' P""'?'i111, trms. J. S. Watson (Loo·
don; George L\cll & Soot, 1876), bk. i
ii, th. iv, p. +1. ' Trrotise1, II, sec. J21.
++ INTERPRETING LOCKE'S TWO TREATISES
�ks about the ' beginning of political societies' may
really th
pot be quite differetit from what he seems to_say on h
t e
surtace.
In order to answer this question adequately, one has to
re-read the entire chapter from a new perspective a p erspec
, ­
tive which allows for the possibility that Locke's 'true mean­
ing' reveals itselfonly by the most careful an� yet i magina�ve
reading of the text. This means, to take JUSt one specific
example, that it is imprudent simply to assume that Locke
chose his only quotation in this section the p�ssage from
-
Jose de Acosta in an arbitrary or careless fashion, or that
-
the meaning of that passage is any more obvious on the
surface of it than is the quotation from Justin.• In more
general terms, it means, when taken together with the other
evidence about the intricate construction of Locke's work
which has been presented here, that one has to reconsider
the whole of the Two Treatises from this new perspective. It
is on the basis of this method of in terpretation that we turn,
then, to a more direct consideration of Locke's conception
of the state of nature and the foundations of political society.
1 Sec iofr•, pp. 99-104.
2
T H E STATE O F N ATURE AN D
THE L A W O F J\T A T U R E
THE state of nature is unquestionably the basic assumption
of Locke's political philosophy.1The purpose of this chapter
is to set the framework for tho� which follow by showing:
first, that the reason why Locke takes his bearings by a pre­
political 'state of nature', and his conception of that state,
are ambiguous; second, that this ambiguity results not from
Locke's failure to arrive at a consistent doctrine, but from
the extraordinarily involved manner in which he presents his
teaching, the main reasons for which have been set forth
in the preceding chapter ; third, that underneath the surface
ambiguity there is a consistent argument which ��vertly but
.
decisively rejects the prevailing orthodox or religious views
concerning the origins of political society and of man's
condition prior to its establishment. My argument on these
interrelated points begins with a consideration of the gen�ral
impression conveyed by the Two Treatises and of the spe�dic
way in which the treatment of the state of nature fits mto
.
the whole ; it then moves, by gradual steps, toward the mner
core of Locke's argument, showing how, once the fac;ade of
apparent agreement with traditional views is stripped away,
a radical teaching comes to l ight .
Locke and the Christian Tradition:
Appearance and Reality
Locke's treatment of the state of nature must, to begin with,
be seen ashe meant it to be seen, and that is as one part of
his entire argument, and in the context of his entire book .
•6 THE STATE OF N1\TURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE
The problem is to determine exactly what relation exists
between that part and the other parts, as well as its relation
to the whole.
Stated most generally, Locke's treatment of the state of
nature occurs in the context of a book consisting of two
separate but integrally related treatises on government. The
First Treatise is devoted primarily to a refutation of the
'false principles and foundation' of government as set forth
by Filmer, most particularly in his Patriarcha. But this,
according to Locke, is insufficient; having refuted Filmer's
false doctrine, it is incumbent upon him to supply an account
of the 'true original, extent, and end of civil government'
lest the reader should think that he, Locke, gives 'just
occasion to think that all government in the world is the
product only of force and violence, and that men live
together by no other rules but that of beasts, where the
strongest carries it, and so lay a foundation for perpetual
'
disorder and mischief, tumult, sedition, and rebellion . . . .1
It is in this general context, then, that Locke is led to supply
his own account ot the original condition of man and to show
how it is related to the foundation of political society.
Locke's account of the state of nature is, however, con­
nected to the First Treatise in an even more in1portant
manner. Filmer' s principles and foundation are false, accord­
ing to Locke, not because they are based on the Bible, but
because they misinterpret or falsify the biblical teaching
regarding man's original condition.z In order to show this,
Locke meets Filmer on his own ground : he constantly argues
in detail from the biblical texts. He thus reveals not onlv a
profound knowledge of the Bible, but much more im or­
tantly, he indicates, in a variety of ways, that his own position
i s deri�ed from the bibiical account of man's beginnings and
. I Ibid.
the ongms of government. For example, a central point in
Filmer's argument is that 'A natural freedom of mankind
cannot be supposed without the denial of the creation of
Adam.'1 To this Locke replies in straightforward fashion :
• Trt4tis�t, 11, stt. 1. • CC. ••tr•• Cb. 1, pp. 35-36.
LOCKE A N D TllE C H R I S T I A N TRADITION 47
. . . how Adam's being created, which was nothing but his receiving a
being immediately from Omnipotcncy and the hand of God, gave
Adam a sovereignty over anything, I cannot sec, nor, consequently,
understand how a supposition of natural freedom is a denial of Adam's
creation . . . . I find no difficulty to suppose the freedom of mankind,
though I have always believed the creation of Adam.'
The same general pattern is followed by Locke in his reply
to the other alleged 'foundations' of sovereignty as advanced
by Filmer, and he repeatedly, in orthodox fashion, speaks in
terms of 'the law of God or nature', or of 'reason and revela­
tion', or of 'Scripture or reason'.• Furthermore, Locke
quotes from or explicitly refers to the Bible more than
eighty times throughout the First Treatise. Ko fewer than
forty-two quotations come from Genesis, especially chapters
i and iii. In short, the overall impression conveyed by the
First Treatise is that Locke adheres to a particular version
of the Christian teaching regarding the origin of man and
government, that he will make this version much more
explicit in the Second Treatise, and that one vital part of that
version is a statement regarding the original tondition of
man.
This impression is confirmed, furthermore, by the general
character of his argument in the Second Treatise. He fre­
quently refers to God, revelation, and the 'law of God and
nature'.3 He quotes from or refers to the Bible twenty-two
times; the references arc scattered through seven different
chapters,• are taken from nine books of the Old Testament
and two of the New Testament,s and occur in connexion
with the discussion of the following important topics: the
p right to punish the crime of murder with death, the righ t to
'appeal to Heaven', the restrictions on the power of a master
over a servant, the grant of the goods of the earth to man by
2 Ibid. I, S«t. 4, 16-17, 56, 6o, 89, 90, 911 11 r, 1 16, 119, 126, 166.
J Ibid. It, lttt. 1, 8, :.5, �6, 5:, 56-58, 66, I 35, 14-2-. 17:, 195.
4 Ibid. 11, cM. ii,iii, i", •, vi, viii, ;tvi. Noricc. th.it c.b.. vii t
i the o.oJy one of c-hs. ii--Tiii
whichcontains no bihlic11Iquotd or rfftrtncct.
.. 1 Samud.:. Samuel,: King!, Ps.tl.ms,
• Cc.ac1is, Exodus, Lf"'iticut, �utcronomy, Judres
Ephesians, i Timothy.
48 TH.E STATE OF NATURE A N D THE LAW OF NATUR E
God (and man's right to them), the limits of parental power,
the beginning of political society among the Jews, and
finally, the right of a conquered people to throw off its
yoke and God's approval of this. A typical use of traditional
phraseology and of biblical authority occurs at the very
beginning of the crucial chapter on property, where Locke
says:
IVhtlhff we consider natural rtason, which tells us that men, being
once born, have a right to their preservation, and consequently to meat
and drink and such other things as nature affords for their subsistence;
or nvtlati'ln, which gives us an account of those grams God made of
the world to Adam, and to 'Koah and his sons; it is very dear that God,
as King David says (Psal. av. 16), 'has given the earth to che children
of men,' given it to mankind in common.I
But since there arc, of course, various interpretations of
the Bible's meaning, Locke apparently indicates which
version of the Christian teaching is most consonant with his
own views by quoting from Richard Hooker's Laws of
Ealcsiauical pq/i1y no fewer than fifteen times! These quotes
are to be found in five different chapters of the Second
Treatise3 and prove to be in support of important doctrinal
points such as the character of the state of nature, the limits
of parental power, the end of government, the nature of
law, and the early situation of men under government-a
situation which, it seems, required them to make more pre­
cise the limits on the power of the governors. Locke sums
up his apparent indebtedness to Hooker near the end of the
Second Treatise, when he says :
. . . and if there needed authority in a case where reason is so plain, I
could send my reader to Bracton, Fortescue, and the author of The
Mirrqr, and othcrs--writcrs that cannot be suspected to be ignorant of
our government, or enemies to it. But I thought Hooker alone might
be enough to satisfy tlaose men who, relying on him for their ecclesi�
tical polity, arc by a strange fate carried to deny those principles upon
which he builds it.•
1 TrLdli1<1, 11, J«. :.5 (cmpha1it 1uppHtd). a s�c Note H, p. zoS.
1 T
r
t�1
1
1' 1, 11, ch.I. il, TI, Tii, \'iii, xi.
t • Ibid. II, >cc. 239.
LOCKE AND THE CHRISTIAN TRADITION 49
As for the treatment of the state of nature in particular,
it is of a piece, it would seem, with the biblical emphasis
already sketched in. For one thing, Locke places his chapter
on the state of nature almost at the beginning of the Second
Treatise; thus the natural tendency for the reader is to read
it within the context and in the frame of mind induced by
Locke's elaborate construing of biblical texts i n the First
Treatise. But even more specifically, Locke says, early in
chapter ii of the Second Treatise, that in the state of nature the
'law of nature' is 'that measure God has set to the actions of
men for their mutual security' and that 'reason' is 'the com­
mon rule and measure God hath given to mankind'.1 He
quotes from the Bible-from the story of Cain and Abel­
to prove the right of men to punish a murderer in the state of
nature.2 lie quotes twice from 1-Iooker, once on the point
that men are by nature equal and that this equality is the
true foundation of political society, and a second time to
show that Hooker, too, argues men were originally in the
state of nature.J I-le apparently makes a distinction, based on
Genesis, between the original or innocent state of nature,
when there was complete peace and harmony, and the state of
what Hooker calls 'depraved' nature-that is, the state after
the Fall. This is, at least, a plausible explanation of the fact
that in the early part of chapter ii he generally speaks of
man's natural condition as one of 'perfect freedom' or as one
which 'has a law of nature to govern it'; yet later in the
chapter he acknowledges that men may be led, by 'self-love',
'ill-nature, passion, and revenge', to produce 'confusion and
disorder'. Locke even introduces, in the context of an
'objection' that the reader is likely to raise to his doctrine of
the natural executive power, the generally accepted remedy
for the state of man after the Fall : 'God hath certainly ap­
pointed government to restrain the partiality and violence
of men'.4
This evidence, taken altogether, unquestionably lends
• Truti1c1, 11, tce:t. 8, 1 1. 1. Ibid. J[, $CC. 1 1.
' Il>id. 11, secs. 5, 1 S· 4 Cf. il::iJ. n, f.CCJ. +t 6, 7, 9-t J.
GO;J •
so THE STATE OF NATURE AND T H E LAW OF NATURE
support to the view according to which Locke, i� turning to
a pre political state of nature, 'was merely repeati ng Hoo�er
- recourse to the Bible and to "Hooker-are necessarily inte­
and through him the medieval tradition about the relation
between law and morals'.1 It also lends support to the more
general proposition that Locke's theory of natural law is
basically a continuation, in spite of certain modifications, of
the great western tradition of natural law which begins in
antiquity and is then modified by medieval scholasticism
and the Reformation.1 His political theory, therefore, seems
to constitute one more piece of evidence that there is, i n
western political theory as a whole, a steady 'growth' or
'progress' or 'historical development'. It also would seem
to constitute important evidence to support the widely held
thesis according to which political philosophers are interest­
ing to us today not because they transcend or attempt to
transcend their historical circumstances-the former, in any
case, is said to be impossible-but because they most sensi­
tively reflect the consciousness of their historical epoch.3
Wh at better example of this than Locke ? Docs he not, in the
matter of his basic conceptions, quite naturally fall back
upon the inherited Christian tradition which surrounded him
when he wrote, yet modify it in the direction of modern
liberalism, perhaps by reason of his admiration for the new
science of the seventeenth century ? And is this not then a
prime exampleofthe way in which the philosopher essentially
reflects the shifting currents-perhaps not even very con­
sciously---of intellectual progress?
The central difficulty with this line of interpretation of the
Treatises is that it too readily assumes that the surface
1 Sec Note 1, p. 108.
• Sn Richard I. Aaroo, 7•A• l.ed1 (ini <d.; 01ford: At the Clarendon Pms, 1955),
pp. >71->; A. J. C•rlyl•, A l/111or7 ef .�fo/1..,./ P•l11tcol TA,.,.y n i tAe Wm (Loc<lon:
William Bbckw-i & Sons, 1903), i. 1.
J For :a ardol and thoughtful ftttcmtat orthis gcncrU idea $CC �t. B. Foster, }\111.TtUS �1
Political TA"'tAt (Bo1ton, Ne�· YOfk: tlouabton �hfflin Co., 1947). i, lntrodoetion.. Cf.
Hqcl, Ucr�r,1 on tAt Jl1ttr.? of PAi�9, tnDJ. £. S. Haldane aa.d Franc.ca. [. l Si.tnso:o
(Lo.adoo : Keg� P.au1, Trcne:h, 1'r0bn(_r &. Co., Ltd., 1894), ii. 96: 'No manem o'tcd�p his
tirr...c, the tpirit ofhit time ;, hit spirit 1lso; but the point at i6suc iE, to rec.ogniu that spirit
by iu �ontent'.
LOCKE A N D TJll:: CHRISTJ1\N TRADITION 51
indications of the work-such as, above all, Locke's frequent
gral parts of his political philosophy. Ir ignores the possi­
bility that John Edwards, Josiah Tucker, Richard \Vest,
and others were essentially correct in stating that Locke
deliberately concealed his heterodoxy by outwardly profes­
sing an orthodoxy which he was set upon undermining, and
did so primarily for prudential reasons. It is, indeed, true
that of all Locke's major works the Treatises seem to have
provoked relatively little controversy compared, let us say,
to the Reasonableness of Christic111ity. But this fact in no way
disposes of Josiah Tucker's contention : that Locke, in
the Treatises, quite deliberately and knowingly gives the
appearance of going along with the traditional views on the
nature of the origins of political society, while in fact re­
pudiating them. For in his critique of Locke's 'politics',
Tucker says he will be content to produce 'only four authori­
ties in opposition to the Lockcian system. Hut these four are
such as arc worth thousands of others. . . . The four I mean
are Aristotle, Cicero, Grotius, and Hooker. . . '. 1 Thus the
very men Locke is so often today said to follow arc adduced
by Tucker to prove how decisively and even radically he
departs from the tradition.
If, therefore, we emulate Tucker, and do not trust to
extern al appearances regarding Locke's intention and mean­
ing, but subject his work to the kind of scrupulous analysis
which he himself invites, we shall find there a very different
notion of man's original condition from what is suggested
in the idea of 'Eden' or of the 'Golden Age'. The first stage
in the demonstration of this will be to show how markedly
Locke in fact departs from the conceptions of the Bible and
of Hooker, while appearing to use them as authorities for
his views. Indeed, it is by juxtaposing the originals with
Lccke's statements that one is made sharply aware of what
Josiah Tucker meant when he said that Locke cites authority
with 'amazing confidence', but with little reliability.2
1 Tud.r, op. ci1. (Nc1e G, p. 107), p. 380. • [bid., pp. 402-3.
s• THE STATE OF NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE
\Let us start once again from the surface. If we follow
the line of interpretation suggested by Locke's reliance on
Scripture and Hooker, the conclusion must be that he
ultimately accepted at least the bare outlines of the Christian
teaching on the origins of government: that man was
originally in a state of innocence but, through Sin, suffered
a Fall; that his Fall made governmenc necessary; and that
all government is by ordinance of God, for in the words of
St. Paul : 'Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers.
For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are
ordained of God'.• 'This approach to Locke not only appears
to be supported, as I have shown, by specific passages in the
text, but it supplies a plausible and consistent reason why
man should have had to leave the pre-political state of nature
to enter political society. Or, if one emphasizes the Aristo­
telian aspect of Hooker's teaching, it supplies that reason
also on the ground that Locke believed-as Hooker ob­
viously did-in the natural sociability of man as one founda­
tion of political society. T ndeed, since Locke actually gives a
long quote from the very section in which llooker argues
this poi n t the agreement ofthe two men seems to be proved.2
,
Proved, that is, if one assumes that Locke, by quoting the
Bible and !looker, necessarily indicates agreement with
them. However, this plausible, and seemingly obvious, in­
terpretation of Locke's intention is exposed to decisive
difficulties.
In the first place, as the 'state of nature', which is men­
tioned explicitly only one time in the First Treatise, comes
explicitly to occupy the foreground in Locke's argument­
i.e. beginning in the second chapter of the Second Treatise­
his reliance upon biblical citations and references diminishes
drastically. This inverse relacionship, while not in itself con­
clusive, suggests both the possibility of a slow and cautious
de_velopmenc in the argument from beginning to end, and the
existence of a tension between the biblical teaching and
Locke's conceptions of the state of nature and the origins
1 Rom. xiii. 1. l cc. Tr14riltl, 11, ICC. 1s. with Jiooker, op. ciL I. L t..
LOCKE AND TllE CHRISTIAN TRA DTTION SJ
of_ government. This suspicion is, furthermore, strongly
reinforced by a number of particular points. Among these is
the fact that both Filmer and Hooker-the man Locke
attack� as well as the man he ostensibly considers the greatest
_
a1:1t�onty! ai:art from the Bible-rely heavily upon explicit
b1bh��I citations and references to show what man's original
condition was and the reasons why he came into govern­
ment.1 Locke, by way of contrast, is singularly reticent on
the point in both the Treatises, but above all in the Second
where his positive teaching seems more fully to be developed '.
To be more specific, chapter ii (Of the State of Nature) and
chapt�r vii (Of Political or Civil Society), taken together,
contain no fewer than thirty-eight explicit references to the
state of nature, but only one reference to a specific biblical
text, and that one, as we shall see in a moment, is particularly
revealing of the degree to which Locke silently alters the
biblical teaching. 13ut this decline in the frequency of the use
of biblical authority is striking in itself when one considers
the fact that chapter vii opens with these wotds :
God, having made man such a creature that in his own judgment it
was not good for him to be :ilouc, put him under strong obligation of
necessity, convenience, and inclination to drive him into society, as well
as fitted him with understanding and language to continue and enjoy it.•
Here, above all, one would expect Locke to cite biblical
authority for his seeming recognition of the divine ordinance
of government. His silence on such a crucial point indicates,
by his own way of interpretation, the very problematic
character of that supposed recognition. In face, its proble­
matic character is dramatically sharpened by the realization
that nowhere in the whole of the Treatises does Locke cite so
I For ex.ample, ch. niii or Famu·. Po 1r1 a·rcAa hII this title: 'Samuel's Description o( a
King. The Power A..'C"ribcd to Kina• inthe New Tcstil�t: 1"be chap1er contains a series
of 1peci6c refcrencct to the trad.iciooal biblical passages, tbch •• Rom. xiii. 1 1 Matt. xxii. 21,
and 1 Pct.. ii. t3. As (or llookt'f, one need but look bricAy 1.t the indct ofhihal li citatiotU to
hi1 IAWI cf&<l1-111al 1Jtit Po/,17 to � the extent to wliich he relics Ott the traditional New
Testament pa!ottget. See Richard Hooku, T4t ll'r;rA1 cf14111 U11r•rJa111d 1 j� Dit:in.e
Mr. RWivJ n ..._,, ed. John Kcblc (New \"ork: 0. Appl<1on Co., 18;+), ii. -u9-47.
a Tr6tlli1,11 II. tee. 77.
s+ THE STATE OF NATURE AND THE LAW O F NATURE
much as one of the New Testament passages which are
traditionally regarded as the authoritative version of the
origins of government.'
Moreover, Locke's silence with respect to biblical
authority on so important a matter becomes all the more
revealing as an indication of his heterodoxy when we add to
it the surprising liberties which he takes with the sole, and
therefore decisive, biblical reference to be found in the
chapter on the state of nature. This reference occurs in the
context of Locke's argument-an argument whichproves to
be central to his doctrine-that all men in the state of nature
havea natural right to execute those men_ wfio �aj_d,
for
some reason, -so Tar fall away from the presumabll'.s..J! ual
observance of the law of.nature as tocomm t 1 murder oi;..some
ot!ier 'crime'. Locke seems to clinch this important point by
what in his times was the most respectable of all techniques :
he refers to a biblical passage as his supreme authority. He
says :
�And upon this is grounded lhat great l:tw of ru1ture, '\Vhoso shed­
dcth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed.' And Cain was so
fully convinced that every one had a right to destroy such a criminal
that, after the murder of his brother, he cries out, 'Every one th<Y'.
findeth me, shall slay me'; so plain was it writ in the hearts of man­
kind.i
Now I think there can be no doubt but that Locke fully
intends for the unwary reader here to equate the state of
nature with the biblical account of man's condition prior to
government, and the natural law with one of the main points
of divine law.
But his usage simply will not stand the test of comparison
with the original, for he silently and unobtrusively changes
the biblical teaching on three decisive points. In the first
place, Locke makes it appear that both quotations contained
in this passage occur in the context of the story of Cain and
Abel. In fact, however, he has placed a passage from
1 But lee N
i jrd., Cb. l• p. J 19. and a.. 1. -i Trtatius-. 11, sec. 11.
LOCKE AND THE CHRISTIAN TRADITION 55
Genesis ix. 6 alongside one from Genesis iv. r 4, thus revers­
ing the biblical sequence as well as the biblical chronology.
Second, he makes a fundamental and far-reaching change in
the reason why men may be sentenced to death as a punish­
ment for murder. The entire verse (Genesis ix. 6) reads :
''Vhoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be
shed: for in the image of God made he man'. The last and
most important part of the biblical verse is thus totally
ignored by Locke. In its place, he offers his own non-biblical
and naturalistic reason why a murderer may be dispatched:
. . . (HeJ hath, by the unjust violence and slaughter he hath com­
mitted upon one, declared war against all mankind; and therefore may
be destroyed as a lion or a tiger, one of those wild savage beasts with
whom men can have no society nor security.1
In Locke's version, man is so far from being created in the
image of God, that he may legitimately be regarded by his
fellows as a predatory beast. Third, Locke falsifies the
biblical teaching by failing to mention the fact that the
power of men to sentence other men to death is given by
God only after the Noahie covenant, and, therefore, could not
possibly have existed during the lifetime of Cain. When
Cain murdered Abel, and cried out-as Locke notices so
well for his purposes-'Every one that findeth me shall slay
me', God replied to Cain: 'Therefore whosoever slayeth
Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the
Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill
him'. But Locke, once again, ignores the latter part of the
biblical story, probably because he must have realized that
to quote it would immediately reveal how his doctrine of the
natural right to pronounce and execute sentence of death is
contradicted by the full biblical statement. Indeed, the very
fact that Locke dwells upon the power of men to punish,
thus tacitly ignoring God's reservation of that power to
Himself, already at this point reveals the extent to which his
underlying argument tends toward a completely secular
I Trt4lr°l11, n, ltc. Jr.
56 THE STATE O F NATURE AND THE J,AW O F N A T U R E
conception of man's original condition-a conception, one
hardly need add, which Locke is not likely to have openly
acknowledged, given the pressure of religious orthodoxy.
This tendency is confirmed in a decisive fashion by
another notable discrepancy between the biblical teaching
and what is revealed by a close analysis of Locke's argument.
In his chapter on paternal power, Locke argues that in the
state of nature the relations of parents and children are
regulated, as one would expect, by the law of nature or
reason. In this context, Locke cites biblical authority five
times,1 quotes from }looker three times,2 and says that 'The
law that was to govern Adam was the same that was to govern
all his posterity-the law of reason'.J The impression there­
fore conveyed, especially by the first half of the chapter, is
that Adam, from whom 'the world is peopled', was also the
first man to be 'in the state and under the law of nature'.'�
But this impression cannot be reconciled with one of the key
points of Locke's argument as it is developed in other places
in the Treatises. In the First Tre111ise he takes great care to
point out that Adam had no right to eat meat, nor did any
of his descendants, until after the Noabic covenant.5 Yet
Locke elsewhere repeatedly argues that all men i n the state
of nature have the right to self-preservation, and that right
implies-nay gives--every man the right to kill and eat the
animals.6 But then if all men must have this right in the state
of nature, it is impossible for Adam, or any other man who
lived prior to the Noahic covenant, to be an example of a
man in the state of nature. \Ve are again forced to conclude
that Locke, this time by 'scattering his meaning', succeeds
I Trti.1Jb�1. lJ, '"'· si ((our biblic-al citations). 67.
lbiJ. II, $CC$. 6o. 611 74. ll thoutd be noted that beginning ,,..ith . the quoutio.n for sec.
1
74, Loe.kc puts all but one of the quottitions from Hooker in footnotes. The sole txccprion
•ppears to be a briefquotation i.a. ice. 94,, b1Jt tliac pro,·n not to be• Cir«t quote fromHooker.
Thu1 Locke, afcer sec. 61, rc.lcg•tcs hit allci" authority to the status ofsupporting evidence..
Cf. «e. 94 "·ilb Ilooker, op. cit. 1. 1. 13.
' Tu•ttJ<t, U, r.cc. S7 (cmplwi1 supplied). ' Ibid. II, secs. 56, 59.
s lbid. I, s.cc. 39: •, . . Adam, . . . at 1be:olutc a monarch as he was, could not ma.kc bo!d
,tjth a ltr-k or rabbit to nli$fy bit hunger, and had the httbs but n i common with the bcuts.,
•• is p!1in from Ceo. i. 2, 9, an4 30•.
6 Tr<iitists, 1, feet, 86, 9:, 971 and 11, JCCt. :5, i61 30, )!., 34, 37·
LOCKE AND THF. CHRISTIAN TRADITION 57
admirably in conveying the impression that the state of
nature is based on, or at least compatible with, the biblical
story of man's original condition; in fact, the rights he
ascribes to man in that state are fundamentally incompatible
with the biblical teaching.
One final example of this sort must suffice. It once again
concerns the relation of man to the 'irrational' animals. In
the First Treatise Locke indicates that he accepts the biblical
teaching according to which God originally made the
animals to live 'in fear and dread' of man.1 Yet in the Second
Treatise he constantly says that in the state of nature, the
predatory animals, far from standing in awe of man, will
always 'be sure' to fall upon him and slay him unless he
takes the proper measures of defcnce.2 Thus the very notion
of a rank, precedence, and deference established by God in
nature yields to an essentially naturalistic description, in
which man's status is decisively lowered vis-a-'Vis the other
members of the natural order. The latter point is effectively
concealed unless one directly confronts the original biblical
teaching with Locke's own statements regarding the state
of nature.
(we are led by the preceding evidence to this tentative
conclusion: Locke, in the Treatises, does indeed convey the
impression that his account of the state of nature is based on
the biblical teaching regarding man's original condition, but
in fact the crucial conditions which he specifies, his sur­
prising misquotations of the Bible, and the general tendency
of his argument amount to a tacit and unobtrusive but none
the less deliberate repudiation of that teaching. It may, of
course, be objected that this conclusion is based on a reading
of the texts which is overly refined. It is important, therefore,
also to confront Locke's statements with the argument of his
only other great authority, Richard Hooker; for there,
exactly the same pattern emerges. It is hardly credible that
• Tre11tius, It ice. 34: 'WIU anybody but our .author [Filmu] 117 di.at the ercatu.ra: fcued
and stood ai •"·cof :S-oah Odly, a.nd not ofhia tons without his IClve, or till afterhis death?'
.i Ibid. II, lee.I. 8, I J, 16, 93, 171, 181.
58 THE STATE OF NATURE AND THE I.AW OF NATURE
a man of Locke's stature could have been so utterly mistaken
about both his great authorities as flatly, though covertly, to
repudiate their central teaching, and yet not be aware of it.
Indeed, the very great degree of art involved i n writing in
such a fashion as to largely conceal the discrepancy is itself
a tribute to his powers of comprehension and skill in
rhetoric.'
Hooker's views on man's entry into government are set
forth primarily in book i, chapter x of the Laws of Eccle­
siastical Polity. I-Iis treatment of man's condition prior to the
foundation of political society occurs in paragraphs 1, 3, and
4 of that chapter. Locke quotes exactly ten times from
Hooker's tenth chapter, and three times from the paragraphs
just mentioned ; this, in itself, indicates that he realiz.ed the
m
i portance of the passages in question, especially for the
purpose of substantiating his orthodoxy. As for the specific
quotes which Locke uses in his key chapter on the state of
nature, the first, which concerns man's natural equali ty, is
from chapter viii of Hooker; the second, which seems to be
the authority for Locke's statement that he and Hooker
agree regarding the fact that men were once in a state of
nature, i s from chapter x, paragraph I .
To take the second quotation first, we find that Locke
sedulously cultivates the impression that he and :Hooker
agree i n referring to a 'state of nature'. I-le does this not
only by quoting Hooker in the given context, but even more
specifically by the way in which he introduces the quote, for
he says: 'To those that say there were never any men i n the
state of nature, I will not only oppose the authority of the
judicious Hooker . . . where he says, . . . (here follows
the quote from Hooker]. But I, moreover, affirm that all men
are naturally in that state. . . '.1 Hooker is thus presented as
the most reliable authority on the matter; yet Hooker never
once uses the expression 'state of nature'. His way of de­
scribing the period when there was no government is 'those
times wherein there were no civil societies'.z Second, it should
1 Trt11i111, U, ice. 1S· 1 I-looker, op. cit. 1. L 3.
LOCKE AND THE CHRISTIAN TRADITION 59
be observed that there is, in Locke's statement, an important
shift i n emphasis; he begins by speaking of the proposition
that men 'were in the state of nature', and ends by saying
that he, Locke, goes much farther, in effect, by asserting that
all men are naturally in that state. He thus delicately calls
attention to a flat contradiction between his own concep­
tion and that of IIooker. This is shown by the fact that
(Hooker, when he refers to the 'times wherein there were
no civil societies', unquestionably means only the specific
time bl'tween the Creation and the first establishment of
government by God's will.1 It therefore has occurred only
once in the history of man and will never be repeated. Men
are now obliged, by God's will, to live under the restraints
of government; they may not, upon their own decision,
return to a condition without government, and in any case,
can never return to that original situation when God Him­
self had not yet ordained government. Locke, on the other
t
hand, provides an abstract definition o the state of nature,
for he says that it is any condition in which men have 'no
standing rule and common judge to appeal to on earth for
the determination of controversies or right betwixt them . . . '.2
Jt may, therefore, refer not only to the original condition
of mankind, but to the relation between princes and rulers,
in the past, at present, or any time in the future; it may refer
to the relations of princes to aliens within their territory;
it may refer to the relations of a Swiss and an Indian in the
woods of America, or to two men on a desert island; and
finally, it may even refer to the relations of an absolute
prince and his subjects at any time and place.3 Furthermore,
Locke makes it plain that men may by choice and of right,
when their government exceeds ics legitimate powers, return
(if only briefly) to the state of nature and then create another
aovernment. Thus, whether one considers terminology,
definition, or locus, I.ocke's 'state of nature' is simply
1 Hooker, op. rit. 1. x. ) (cmfhNis1\lpplied). Hooker <".xplicitly rdcu to •those timce
wOOein there were not •lio,·ecitht pcnon• righteousli'fingupon lh.e face of theearth', ud
cites i. Pct. ii. S·
2 Tre11tisc1, 11, acc. 91. J Ibid. 1l, gees, 4-�t 14-t 91.
 60 Tll£ STAT£ OF NATURE AND THE LAW OF N ATU R E
irreconcilable with Hooker's idea of man's condition prior
to civil society. It is worth noting, in this connexion, that
for Hooker the decisive difference is between man's original
or 'innocent nature' and his 'depraved nature', which is, of
course, the traditional Christian distinction between man
before and after the Fall. Locke never once in the Treatises
refers to this distinction as such ; and as a matter of fact, the
quote by which he seems to prove that he follows Hooker on
the idea of the state of nature is taken from the very section
in which Hooker sets forth the basis of his own discussion
by speaking of the necessity to frame 'laws politic' so as to
check the 'will of man', which is 'inwardly obstinate, rebel­
lious, and averse from all obedience unto the sacred laws of
his nature . . . '. 1 Yet Locke, in his usual prudent fashion,
manages to avoid such passages by the simple expedient of
cutting off bis quote in the middle of the section in question.
It is only by restoring the passage to its original context that
one becomes fully aware of the very different premise con­
tained in Hooker's argument,
The other quote from Hooker in the chapter on the state
of nature seems to prove that Locke accepts Hooker's views
on both the meaning and source of man's natural equality.2
But this is no more true than it is to say that Locke and
Hooker agree on the definition or meaning of the state of
nature. Locke's emphasis is on the total lack of political
(
l
(
power of one man over another in the state of nature, and his
stared reason for this is that there is-•nothing more evident
than that creatures of the same species and rank, promis­
cuously born to all the same advantages of nature and the
use of the same faculties, should also be equal one amongst
another without subordination or subjection . . J Exactly .'.
what this means-especially the ambiguous references to the
'same advantages of nature' and 'same faculties'-we shall
have occasion to examine presently. It is sufficient here to
notice that Hooker's conception ofman's equality is explicitly
based on the contention that all men are created by God and
1 llookcr, op. cit. 1. x. J, a Tr101i111, JJ, aec. 5. • Ibid. JI, iCC. ._
LOCKE AND THE CHRTSTTAN TRADITION 61
are therefore equally subject to two 'great commandments'
or general laws: the first and greatest of these concerns
man's duty to God; the second, his duty to other men.1
Thus, whereas Locke's point of referenc �is the _!9.ual�ty of
the individual's 'rights', as revealed by the operations of
nature, �ke?s Is on the 'right' way Offi ilfiITi
ng man's
obligations, which are set for him by his Creator and which
are in no way the product of his will or his desires.
One further point should suffice, for the moment, to
show how radically Locke deviates from Hooker, while
appearing to follow him. A goodpart of the arfillmi:!lt in the
latter half of Locke's chapter on the state of nature concerns
what Locke himself twice refers to as a 'stran� d oc:rrine ' :t­
�of nature all men have a natural right to
viz. that i!!_!he stat
execute the law of nature. The factIsfhat Hooker,following
the biblieal teaching, never even hints at such a general
natural right, but on the contrary insists that
Men always knew . . . that >10 man might in reason take upon him
to determine his own right, a11d according to liis own determination
pr·octtd in maintmanct thtrtof, inasmuch as every man is towards him­
self and them whom he greatly affectcth partial. . . ,3
According to Hooker (who of course follows the Bible), any
punishment to be handed down in the period prior to the
Noahic covenant is reserved to God. Hookeralso refers speci­
fically to the 'sins' which man, because of his depraved nature,
is inclined to commit, particularly to those which infringe the
'first and the great commandment', on which 'everything else
depends', and which sets forth the duty of men to 'love the
Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul and with
all thy mind'.� It is then very striking that �e, in his dis­
-
cussion of the state of nature, refers only to offences which
concern one's body or liberty or possessions; he calls such
offenc e
-s 'crimes'. In fact, Locke never uses the word 'sin'
in the Second Treatise whereas in the First Treatise be never
1 Hooker, op. ciL r. tti.t 7· , TrLotiser, Jl, tea. 9, r3.
• Ibid. r. viii. 7.
' Hooker, op. cit. 1. L + (emphasis supplied).
61 THE STATE OF NATURE AND THE LAW OF �ATURE
uses the word 'crime'. This, in itself, indicates an Q!!phatic­
ally secular, naturalistic quality in.Locke's. trueor..u.uderJg ¥in
conception of the state of nature; it suggests that men, as he
COOCeives of them in the natural Stat<; �either are o' !YJO\IS Of
'c. � -f
the futy' enj ned in what is or Hooker the '.fu:st and.g-reat
c�mmandment', or else that it it of no �onscquence con
_ s:ern­
ing their-fundamental needs and desir�.
' Political Power
To recapitulate"briefly the argument thus far: Locke's
intention in taking his bearings by the so-called state of
nature seems, on the face of it, to be a reaffirmation of the
teaching of the Bible and Hooker concerning man's condi­
tion prior to civil society. But a close analysis reveals that
his intention si much more complex. On the one hand, his
references to the Bible and to Hooker lend an air of eminent
respectability and orthodoxy to his arguments. On the other
hand, his reliance upon such 'authority' proves to he decep­
tive in the extreme: on every crucial point, it is impossible to
reconcile the conditions and the powers ascribed by Locke
to men in the state of nature with what his 'authorities' say
about the original condition of mankind.
But this might mean nothing more 'than that Locke,
yielding indeed to the pressures of religious orthodoxy to the
extent of appearing to accept it, in fact cautiously adopts
a view which is derived from an earlier philosophic (but
therefore 'pagan') teaching, such as that of the ancient
Stoics.1 In this case it is logical for him to speak of men-as
he assuredly does in certain places-as constituting 'one
community' of mankind,2 bound together by the possession
and exercise of reason, in a condition characterized by
plenty, harmony and peace, but entering political society
because of their natural sociability. The merit of thi:; view
would be, once again, the preservation of the appearance of
an essential continuity between his teaching and the strictly
philosophic-as opposed to scholastic or religious-part of
1 Ste Hc:n.ry Sidr�ek, 0111li1C11 of'"' l/1st�y if Ji.1Air1 (5th �.;
Co., 19•5). p. 177; Carlyle, op. m. i. >J-14-
1 Treui111, IJ11cc1. 6, 10, 1 1 , 1:8, 135, 171, 17:, 176.
LOCKE AND TUE Cl-!RlSTTAN TRADITION
the earlier western tradition of natural law in political
thought. To show that this line of interpretation is as de­
fective as that already treated, it is necessary to turn once
again to an examination of the text.
The State ofNature and the Origins of
1 Understauding Locke's justification for basing his political
philosophy on the idea of a state of nature may be said to be
the key to understanding his political philosophy as such.
But the problem of understanding that justification never
really arises in a serious form so long as it is taken for granted
that Locke, in so basing his thought, is merely and uncritic­
ally following the teaching of the Bible and Hooker. Once
this is no longer taken for granted, the problem not only
takes on a new importance, but must be seen from a new
perspective, and is, of course, much more difficult to resolve.
To begin with, once the fa<;:ade of religious orthodoxy is
seen for what it is, it quickly becomes evident that Locke's
justification for taking his bearings by a state of nature is, if
one merely looks at the chapter on the state of nature, no
justification at all. This may be seen by considering the
specific steps by which Locke makes the transition from his
refutation of Filmer to the initial statement of his own
doctrine. In chapter i of the Second Treatise, Locke first re­
capitulates the main points in his refutation of Filmer's
patriarchalism. He next says it is necessary, lest there be
thought to be no rational foundation for government, for
him to set forth a more satisfactory account of three points :
'the rise of government', the 'original of political power', and
the 'way of designing and knowing the persons that have
it'. This leads, thirdly, to a very brief definition of what he
understands by 'political power', and then, at the beginning
of the chapter on the state of nature, he says: 'To under­
Lor.don: M1emillio & stand political power aright, and derive it from its original,
we must consider what state all men are naturally in . . . . '
64 THE STATE OF NATURE A N D THE LAW OF NATURE
Without further explanation or argument, Locke begins his
description and analysis of what he contends is man's natural
condition. But in view of the fact that Locke's reliance on
the Bible and Hooker has been found to be superficial, the
sentence just referred to is nothing more than a bare asser­
tion; as such it would seem to be validly subject to the criti­
cism which Locke often levels at Filmer, when he says that
the latter barely asserts crucial propositions instead of de­
monstrating their validity by specific reasons, arguments and
evidence. Secondly, the sequence of bis statements and the
central position which he gives to determining the 'original'
of political power imply that properly defining political
power is somehow equivalent to understanding the essen­
tial nature of political society, but he does not present any
argument on this important point. Finally, and most impor­
tant, it is by no means obvious, from his laconic statements,
that political power must necessarily be understood as de­
riving from powers allegedly possessed by individual men
living in a decidedly uncvidcnt 'state of nature'. Yet Locke
apparently assumes that all this is evident. Whether he
merely assumes so in fact is quite another question .
\f\Te are confronted, in any case, with the fact that Locke's
independent justification for basing his political philosophy
on the state of nature proves, if we look merely at the specific
chapter on the state of nature, to be practically no justifica­
tion at all. But this may only mean that his argument for so
doi ng must be gathered from an intensive reading of the
whole work; it is possible, in other words, chat Locke has
deliberately and systematically scattered his meaning up and
down throughout the whole of the Two Treatises and that,
to be properly understood, it must be reassembled by the
reader. This possibility is indicated, in a general way, by the
fact that at the very end of the chapter on the state of nature
Locke pointedly says that he intends 'in rhe sequel of this
discourse' to 'make it very clear'1 that men are naturally in
the state of nature, and by the closely related fact that he
' Trt11t�11, 11, ace:. 15, end (cmphs1i1 supplied).
THE O R I G I N S OF POLITICAL POWER 65
explicitly refers to the state of nature in twelve other chapters
and forty-seven other sections of the Second Treatise. This
being the case, it is necessary to consider the idea of the
state of nature within the context of the work as a whole)
but now from the perspective, thus far attained, of the secular
quality of Locke's conception, as well as the specific and vital
link he makes between the natural condition and the problem
of the origin of power.
It then becomes evident that Locke's particular concern
to derive political power from its ultimate source is but one
aspect, although of course a very important one, of his
intense interest in power as such; for the Two Treatises,
when considered from this perspective, proves to be a book
pre-eminently organized around the concept and the problem
of power. This may be seen most clearly by first breaking the
work down into its main constituent parts. The First Trea­
tise falls into two main parts. Chapters i-vii treat of the various
'titles' to patriarchal power contended for by Filmer. Chap­
ters viii-xi treat of the modes of 'conveyance' of that power;
or more accurately, they treat ofa single mode of conveyance:
the 'inheritance' of monarchical power so based.1 The Second
Treatise falls into five main parts, each organized around a
particular aspect of power. The first part includes chapters
i-vi and provides the initial definition of political power, a
preliminary description and analysis of the powers possessed
by men in the state of nature, and then an examination of
despotic power (Slavery), economic power (Property), and
the power of parents over children (Paternal Power).2 Part
two includes chapters vii-xiv and treats of the beginning
and proper end of political power, the locus of supreme
(legislative) political power, and the inter-relations among
and limits on the various branches of political power.
• Tbe other modes oCcOO.ftY&nGt listed (or treatment arc •gyant', •u.surpatio!)', and 'dec­
tion'. Cf. Tr�111i1�1, I, •«· So.
z. It i1 curious that 'conjugal poWC't', whith teem• to belong to part I,should be trcatN by
Locke U. ch. vii (se<>. 77-83), tilled "Of Politictl or Cini Society". Like the power of a
i a •�pi.rate chapter. er. Trt�isP.
'mttler· over a •servant', it docs not rtc.ei•e trie:armcnt n
11, tee. ::.. beginningand cad, wicb tbt order of treatment which Locke uses in hi' t.haptcrt.
ro» P
66 THE STATE OF NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE
Chapter xv is a p�rt in itself; it is a. recapitulation of �e
.
�
problems treated m the . two preceding parts a� d1stm­
guishes, much more &uccmctly now paternal, pohucal, a�d
�
�
despotic power. The fourth part includes � apters ::1.:i­
xviii and treats of the illegitimate modes of gammg or usmg
political power : conque�t, usurpation, and ty�nny. The
. of their estates and kingdoms, a reformer of politics, one would think,
fifth and final part is agam a smgle chapter, which treats of
the dissolution of political power and its attendant conse­
� �
quence : the return, if only tempo a �ily, of � members of
the political society to the pre-pohncal cond1bon or to the
state of nature.
This breakdown of the Treatises reveals the extent to
which Locke's specific and initial concern to understand the
character of powers possessed by men in a state of nature
is but an integral part of his general and over-all concern to
understand and delineate the principles of political power as
such. But it does not yet clearly enough establish the pre­
cise character of his idea of the proper connexion between
these concerns, which are in essence those of the political
philosopher, and the immediate concerns of men living in
political societylthat is, the general readers of a book such
as his. For this, it is necessary to narrow the scope of our
analysis to a consideration of what Locke has to say regard­
ing the way in which the problem of political power appears
to the mass of mankind. This problem, it is important to
notice, is treated in the latter part of the First Treatise; it
therefore precedes and sets a framework for Locke's ex­
plicit argument on the state of nature in the Second Trearise.
The context in the First Trearise is Locke's argument that
Filmer's patriarchal basis for political power is absurd and
useless because, among other things, it is impossible to
specify clearly and exactly who is entitled to possess and
to inherit a power so based. But Locke does not limit his
treatment to a refutation of Filmer's position (as is the case
with many of the points treated earlier in the First Treatise);
on the contrary, he uses the occasion to advance his own
general proposition that
T H E ORIGINS OF POLITICAL POWER 67
The great question which in all ages has disturbed mankind, and
brought on them the greatest part of those mischiefs which have
ruined cities, depopulated coumrics, and disordered the peace of the
world, has been, mt whether there be power in the world, nor whenct
it camr, hut who should have it. The settling of this point being of no
smaller moment than the security of princes and the peace and welfare
should lay this sure and be very clear in it. . . .1
Now by the 'settling of this point' Locke means that the
explicit political teaching must be able co 'setde . . . men's
consciences' as to 'who has a right to exercise' the political
power. Unless clear and evident rules can be given by which
to determine this issue, not only will there be no difference in
principle between 'pirates and lawful princes', but all men,
being absolved of obedience, and no one having a 'right'
more than any other, there will be set in motion a 'scramble'
for the power because of the liberation of 'man's natural
ambition, which of itself is but too keen'. The net result will
be 'endless contention and disorder instead of that peace and
tranquillity which is the business of governme�t and t e �
end of human society'.2 On the other hand, there 1s a crucial
limit with regard to the kinds of principles or rules which
are capable of settling any man's conscience; for, Locke
says, the generality of mankind 'cannot obey anything that
cannot command, and ideas of government in the fancy,
though ever so perfect, tho1.1gh �ver so right, can ot gi�e �
laws nor prescribe rules to the actions of men . ., .3 v
\ hat this
.
means is that the rules for determining legidmacy are of
overriding importance if stability and order are t� be main­
tained; but it also implies that such rules must, m order to
stand a chance of being really effective, either be known 'by
nature' to all men, or at least be readily intelligible to them
when presented in the form of a political teaching. But in
either case-and it is part of our problem to see exactly
which of these alternatives Locke advances-the implication
I T,,.:im I •«- 106 (empbuit aupplic<I). cr.1, ''"''· 81, !OS) 11, tee. 198.
t Ibid. I,�:Sr, 106. Sec t!to 1ct1. 10, 116, 12 8.
J l Ibid. I, sec. 81.
68 THE STATE OF NATURE A N D THE LAW OF NATURE
is that such rules must be rooted in natural propensities or
experiences or else they are doomed, from the outset, to fail
in application. As we shall see presently, those propensities
and experiences prove to be the desires or the passions,
which are indeed 'by nature' and which, once properly
understood by the political philosopher, form the basis of a
teaching almost guaranteed to settle men's consciences.
But for the moment, two points arc worthy of further
comment. First is the fact that Locke, by his strictures
against 'ideas of government in the fancy' 1 and by his insis­
tence on the primacy of the criterion of the universal and
direct applicability of the standard of political legitimacy,
already indirectly reveals his hostility to the classical tradi­
tion in political philosophy. For it is, of course, the classical
political philosophers-such as Plato and Aristotle-who
excel at the creation of 'imaginary' republics, which are in
principle perfect and right because ruled by men of excel­
lence or virtue, but which are impracticable precisely be­
cause they depend, for their actualization, on a combination
o'. good fortun e and 0e appearance of men of the highest
. .
virtues2-quahties which are, according to the classics,
beyond the comprehension of the generality of mankind, let
alone their ability to practise them. It will become clear, as
we proceed with the analysis of Locke's conception of what
belongs to man by nature, that he decisively rejects the
classical or 'utopian' solution to the question of 'who should
ru�e ?'. and tacitly, but none che less surely, follows the main
prmciple o� moder� .Political ·�ealism', as first articulated by
Mach1avelh: a pohttcal doctrmc, to be generally effective,
. tion of all these.z
must be based on what men m the mass actually want and
do.3 In the case of Locke, the application of this principle is
1 See "lto the interesting pas�ge at I, tee.. t47, n
i whieh Locke 1pcak1 or� doctrine which
c11.11uot give • universally applicable rule ;as to precisely who detcrvt1 to have political po'O\•er
;IS A 'nlodcl or all Eutopia'.
'Z Pluto, RfffJ11�Ji,, 471c-47.µ; Aristotle, Politic1. r188b 10-40, 1313
a 14-23, 133t.•
•S-tJ32".
�i11cl��\·�U, �Ile P��nce., ch. Discoul'Stt on tht f't'rtl
' Cf. rv, and
Jntroduct1on, J11, "'•xvi, i.:.tx:vu; Hobbes,Dit CH:.·1. Ep. Dcd., Preface to the Reader'pt. i' ch. 1
Spinou, Tr11rtotw1 Politicui, ch. i ; di. ii,.secs. 4--8.
THE ORIGINS OF POLITICAL POWER 69
seen '.n his i�tention, from the outset, to resolve the 'great
.
question which has m all ages disturbed mankind'-the
q�estion ?f who sho�ld have the political power-by basing
.
his sol�tJon on p: iples which arc intelligible to the
r mc
generality of mankind because consonant with--or rather
directly rooted in-what they are impelled by nature to seek '.
The benefits which promise thereby to accrue to the indivi­
.
dual and the political society as a whole' in the form of
security, power, ��d wealth, are, in Lo �ke's view, the ultimate
.
proof of the validity of the solution, las we shall see in its
J
proper place. 1
IThe second point of importance is the fact that Locke
in this context, calls our attention to the difference betwee �
the c�ntral <;luestion. which agitates policical society and the
questi?n which provides the ultimate attraction for the politi­
cal p�1losopher. The overridingly important question in the
r<:>lmcal aren�'. Locke points out, is '\Vho bas the right to
w1:ld the poht1cal power ?' But Locke himself, as a political
philosopher, while fully cognizant of this question and even
guided by its requirements, goes beyond it because he is
impelled to raise the further, philosophic question of the
nature of political power : its source, origin, and limits, as well
as how it is distinguished from other kinds of power, such as
that of the father over his children. In the political arena the
generality of mankind not only arc not interested i n this
theor7tically more fundamental question as such, but are
even mcapable of fully articulating it as a question because,
for them, the answer is generally given in advance by some
form of authority : custom, tradition, religion, or a combina­
At this point a problem arises. On the one hand, Locke
�bviously intends, among other things, to answer the ques­
tion as to who has the right to wield the political power; in
so doing, he obviously intends to settle men's consciences on
the point. On the other hand, it is equally apparent, from a
Te" Booh of Li�J, i,
,
' See iefr<, Ch. 5, pp. 180-3.
1 Tr1atilt1, J, tect. 58, 88, 10�f 1, 116, 141 ; 11, tttS. 94, 101, 105, 106, 111, 239.
•
 70 THE STATE OF NATURE AND TIIE LAW OF NATURE
cursory reading of the ScCl)!ld Treatise, that his general
political teaching is, in barest outline, the following: All men
arc by nature free, equal, and independent; they are all,
originally, under only the law of nature OI reason.;_they_enter
political society only by consent and on the basis of e �
original contract in order more effectively to secure th�1r
lives, liberties, and estates ; insodoing, they gilre upJ,heir
orlginal powers-such as the right to execute the. law.. of
-;;<!tur�to the government, but at the sametime, they place_
restrictions on the exercise of the power of government;
those restrictions are defined, in a general way, by the
principle that the end of government is the good of the
governed. But then the problem: If men are in fact all free
and equal, and under the law of nature or reason, this seems
to mean that they naturally arc cognizant of the proper W!Y
of living, as well as of the proper principles for the founding
of political societies. How does it happen, then, that th�
must be taught those principles by Locke, who, in turn, has
made a long and difficult investigation of them ? Or does
Locke mean that the knowledge of the law of nature is
available only in principle to men, but that in fact, i n the
original state of nature, they arc ignorant of it? If this is
true, it not only throws an entirely different light on the
character of the state of nature, but it raises the further
question : What prevented men from obtainin _g _this know­
ledge ? Or, we may put the problem somewhat differently. If,
as Locke repeatedly says, all political societies have in fact
begun by consent and contract, and were founded by men
who were guided by the principles of the law of nature, how
has 1t come about that most-perhaps all-actual political
societies are in fact corrupt1 even de ]!aved, in_!heir prin-
?}f
ciples and customs his is evidently the case, accordingto
Locke, for he says in the First 1'n:.atisc :
<. . the will, reason being laid aside, is ready for every extravagant
. with modifications, of the tradition. When the book is so
---<! p roject; and, in this state, he that goes farthest outofthe way is thought
} fittest to lead and is sure of most followers; and when fashion hath
4nce established what folly or craft began, custom makes it sacred,
THE ORIGINS OF POLITIC.AL POWER
�
it will be thought impudence or madness to contradict or question it.
He that will impartially survey the nations of the world will find s o
much of their religions, government�, and manners brought in and
continued amongst them by these means that he will have but little
reverence for the practices which arc in use and credit amongst men,
and will have reason to think that the woods and fores1S, where the )
irratonal, untaught inhabitants keep right by following nature, are
i
fitter to give us rules than cities and palaces, where those who call them­
selves civil and rational go out of their way by the authority ofexample.•
In other places, he calls attention to the miserable condition
of the peoples who live under the various absolute monar­
chies in the world, such as in Turkey or Ceylon ;2 but he goes
further, and says that ':L great part of the municipal laws of
countries' are in fact founded on 'he t fancies_and_i11Ui catc
.contrivances of men, following contrary and hidden interests
put into words'.{ In sum, we have the parad9x that th _<;_law
of nature, which presumably is known by nature to man,
must be investigated and then taught to him by Locke, as
well as the paradox that this law, which is said to have guided
men in their original condition and therefore to have pro-
- vided the actual foundation of political societies, has, in
fact, been hitherto almost totally ignored in the constru�tion
of existing political societies.
lThe resolution of this paradox depends upon making a
distinction between T .ocke's general political teaching and
his underlying, philosophically-based argument. The general
political teaching, as summarized above, is intended �o pro­
_
vide a set of clear rules to detcrmme who has the right to
wield political power. Given the climate of religious and
philosophical orthodoxy w�ich prevailed whe� �eke wrot�,
coupled with the superficially orthodox denvat1on of this
_
doctrine-as indicated by his use of the Bible and 1-Iooker­
it could readily appear that his teaching is a continuation,
read-and it evidently has been commonly so read-the
and
I
1
Tr�•ti111,,. I, fC'C· sV i c(. IIt Ju. 94'·
Ibid. 1, tea. ll• 41 i II, tcu. 90"""9+· ' ltid. 11, $� Jt.
71 THE STATE OF NATURE AND TllE LAW O F NATURE
problem we now raise either did not appear at all, or was
seen as the inevitable consequence ofhis unsuccessful attempt
to synthesize disparate elements. On the other hand, when
we make the distinction now offered, it becomes possible to
state the resolution in these terms: Locke's underlying,
philosophically-based argument regarding the origins of
political power partially contradicts his general political teach­
ing, above all with regard to the character of man's original
condition ; but at the same time, it provides an even more com­
plex and subtlejustification for thesubstanceof that teaching.
Vlhat I am suggesting here is that Locke, in order to secure
a public hearing for his doctrine, has accommodated his philo­
sophical argument to the prevailing political, philosophical,
and religious atmosphere in such a way as to partially con­
ceal its radical character. But the core of his general political
teaching is, ultimately, rooted in that argument, even though
it is presented in a 'political' manner: Locke takes care not
to shock the received opinions of those who will read his
book. This means that, in effect, his manner of presentation
becomes part of his political teaching as such: the political
philosopher's answer as to the nature of political power must
be transmitted to political society in such a manner as to be
effective in the political arena, yet not be false, in the finai
analysis, to the truth as he sees it. This requires, above all,
an exceedingly careful manner of writing, so that the two
levels of meaning may be articulated one to the other and
so understood upon a scrupulous analysis of the texts.
My detailed argument in support of this interpretation of
Locke's intention is divided into two parts; each centres
upon one of two basically different usages which Locke
makes of the term 'state of nature', but each converges on the
conclusion that Locke's underlying view is that the original
condition of man is one of 'pure anarchy', or that the state of
nature, far from being a state of peace, harmony, and plenty,
is, in reality, one of war, enmity, and misery, in which the
law of nature, so far from being effective, is not even known.
The first line of analysis concentrates on the gradual, but
THE ORIGINS OF POLITICAL POWER 73
precisely ordered, shift or development which occurs in
Locke's description of the state of nature as he proceeds from
the beginning to the end of the Second Treatise; the second
copcentrates on Locke's underlying argument regarding
the question of what man possesses merely by- nature, and
links this to the historical evidence which Lotte alfuaes to
or adduces in support of his description of the _state of_
nature.
The State ofNature: The Progression
from Order to Anarchy
The most general use which Locke makes of the expression
'state of nature' may be characterized as a 'legal' descrip­
tion; it consists, in essence, of the abstract proposition that
'\�'ant of a common judge with authority puts all �en in a
state of nature.�. '. 1 But it is evident th�t such a definition
does not,__gf itself, reveal whether such a condition among
-1 b 11t11ure one of peace or of war; of mutual a.@_ or of
.JfilD s y
enmity; of order or of disorder. Andyeturuier.standing....the
- latter point is crucial, for on it depend the principles of how
pqlitical society is to be organi7,ed, the enas whtcli govern­
meu.Lis meant to serve, and the extent to which bofll of these
..eroblems may be resolved, either by folfowing or l:iy Changmg
-
what js given by nature.
Near the beginning of the Second Treatise; which is to say
at the point of its closest contact with the intense emphasis
on biblical interpretation in the F irst Treatise, the generally
accepted version of what Locke means by the state of nature
is to be found. Men, it is said there, are by nature all free,
equal, and independent; they have as tliCLr onl ygu ide the
raw-of nature; that law teaches all men that 'no one ought to
harm another in his life, health, liberty or possessions . . . '.z
On the other hand, men do come b y a certain J><>
' wer' ove�
their fellows by reason of the natural right to execute the
law of nature, whether to punish or to exact reparations for
' Ibid. II,""· 6.
 u THE STATE OF NATURE A N T> THE LAW OF NATURE
damage done. But this power is strictly_ subordinate to the
general rule that. the law of nature 'willeth the peace a�
preservation of all mankind',1 and is dependent upon The
fact that all men, being members of the samespecles, are
2romiscuously born to all the same advantages of11_�re
and the use of the same faculties. . . '.2 Thus , no one bemg
sll60rdlnate to another by nature, and no one having a right
to another's person or possessions, all share !1 i the r ight to
be preserved. To achieve this, the natural liberty or freedom
of men is of central importance : to deprive a man ofthat.Y
_t9deprive him of the means or the abilityto defend his life,
his limbs, and his possessions. And th2t the idea of liberty,
in this sense, is literally of central concern to Locke is shown
by the fact that in nearly all the many passages where he
mentions life, liberty, and property together, liberty occu­
pies the centre position of the three ;3 there is, in other words,
a natural priority indicated in the very way in which Locke
sets down his description of the interconnexion of these
elements.
� Locke, having. thus sketched the character of the state Qf
nature, juxtaposes it in the following chapter to the character
of the 'state of war'. The latter is defined as a state of 'enmity
and destruction',4 and may occur whenever any man so far
falls away from the law of nature as to conceive a design
_1!pOn another man's life, liberty, or possessions. But the
state of nature, 'however some men have confounded' it with
the state of war, is 'as far distant' from the latter as 'a state
of peace, good-will, mutual assistance, and preservation,
and a state of enmity, malice, violence, and mutual destruc­
tion are one from another'.5 Thus the initial apparent dicho­
tomy between a state of nature and a state of war, or between
a condition of natural order and one of natural disorder,
effectively sets the stage for all the rest of the Second Treatise;
1 'Ir1dtit11, lit J«. 7. 2 lbi.d. IJ, sec.. 4-
l Ibid. II, tcu. 6, s9, 69i 75, 85, 87, 123, 135, 137, t71, .!� 2z1, 222. • i\od tee thee
interating ..equcct.: of the •raurncnl in ffC1, 1 �1S, t
n which a.ch of th� three e:ltments
treated 'Cerar�tcly, but in the order indlctlcd.
'4 lbid.11, scc. 16. s Ibid. 11,sc.c. r9.
THE PROGRESSION FROM ORDF.R TO ANARCHY 75
it tends, naturally, to induce a framework in the reader's
mind which is not easily disturbed thereafter. As a matter of
fact, since the Second Trct11ise also ends with a consideration
of the situation which exists when government is dissolved,
the work appears to be one which designedly takes us full
circle, or which is cyclical in character, because it goes from
the state of nature to the state of nature.
Or rather it would be cyclical if the state ofnature referred
to in both cases were identic.'11 in character. But is that true?
From a strictly narrow, definitional point of view, it seems
to be so: the state of nature being one in which there is no
commonjudge to whom men may appeal, there might appear
to be no difference. But from a more realistic, descriptive
point of view, there is a decisive difference. For one thing,
the state of nature at the beginning of the Second !_r!_ atise._
appears to be the pristine or truly original condition of man­
�kind, prior to the time when they ever lived under Eolitical
society or perhaps were fully aware of its possibility, whereas
at the end of the work it is clear Locke refers to men wh. Q...
have lived in political society, but who, because th L_old
political order is dissolved, arc at liberty-as would be men
in the truly original condition-to erect a political order. In
the first case, however, political power as such seems to be
wanting both in fact and in the sense of not being actively a
matter of concern to men; but in the second case, political
power is wanting only in the sense that it is in temporary
solution, so to speak, having returned into the hands of the
individuals concerned. A second and more fundamental
difference between the beginning and the end,_ however,
concerns the character of Locke's description of the natural _
state. The very first description is, as we have seen, one
which makes the pristine condition appear to be essentially
peaceful and harmonious, marred perhaps by oc:�io!)al
lapses on the part of an aberrant few. Yet the vg:y _l�
reference to the state of nature speaks of it as a condi�ion_ of
is
'pure anarchy', 1 and Locke means by this not simply, t}le
' Trit1ti:u. IJ, tee. �i.5. See also tCC-t. 94' 198, %OJ, 219.
;6 THE STATE O F NATURE AND T H E LAW OF NATURE
absence of government in a for�al or tech�ical sense, but
. _
literally a condition of chaos, enmity, confu�on misery, and
,
_
destruction such as resul ts from civil war orforeign con­
quest.!.Th� the final reference in the _� e
.co!1d
-.Tr
fatise__i2_
not only diametrically opposed to the description 10 the first_
reference ., but its delineation of man's condition when the
power of govern ment is suddenly destroyed b� c ��quest or
civil war is more credible than the first because 1t 1s m a���
ment with nearly all historical evidence regarding w�at
happens in such situation<;. V.le are thus confr�nted with
.
this alternative: either Locke really thmks there 1s an essen­
tial difference between the pristine condition and that which
results when a government is destroyed, or else he �11ks
both conditions are characterized by 'pure anarchy'. The
latter proposition not only would repudiate the imp�ession
.
built up at the beginning of the Sero11d TrcatJ.Jc, but 1t 1s very
suggestive in its central implication: that for Locke, the
!< Ssential character of political society is effectively exposed _
to view at the moment when the order provided by political
society is destroyed_t or perhaps more precisely, that t � � ofthe argument, the general impressio� of t e s�ate of nature
i as one of essential harmony and peace is mamtamed m
readily observable historical phenomenon marks a part� a _l
return to the truly original or natural condition. This would
_ mean that Locke bases his conception of the nature of
political society upo�hat most of hi_!; predecessors rn
political -.E!!.ilosopbJ would regard as the extreme or abnor­
mal situation, and it would imply that he does so because his
conception of what is 'by nature' has undergone a radical
transformation .
Tu.immediate problem, however .js to see how Locke
manages, unobtrusively_yet EStematicaJ!L.__gra dua!ly tg__re­
verse the impression of the state of nature which is conveyed
_
at tbe6egmmng T o the Seond
c Treatise. A careful examination
of the text reveals, as has been noted, that Locke has scat­
tered passages on the state of nature all through the Second
Treatise. So long as it is assumed that the original statement
(that is, in chapters ii and iii) is Locke's definitive statement,
' Ste Note), p. 209.
THE PROGRESSION FROM ORDER TO ANARCHY ;;
there is no particular reason to regard the other passages as
more than restatements or amplifications. But given the
fundamental opposition between the first and l ast references
to the state of nature, as well as the generally ambiguous
character, as has been shown, of the early references, the
problem arises as to whether there is not a progressive and
systematic alteration in the conception itself as Locke pro­
ceeds from the beginning to the end of the work. That this
is indeed the case appears from a close scrutiny of the struc­
ture and the specific terms of his treatment of the idea.
Locke explicitly refers to the state of nature in thirteen
out of the ninete�n chapters in tP.e Seco�d T_reatis�,1 and
of these thirteen, 1t happens that Chapter 1x, utled Of the
Ends of Political Society and Government', occupies a
central position. It also happens that the first sentence of
chapter ix marks the exact beginning of the second half of
the Second Treatise, when we view that Treatise according to
the number of sections it contains.2 Now up to the mid point -
. so far
�
as descriptive statements are concerned.3 But at th� very
beginning of the seco11d half, we find th�t Locke himself
deliberately and expl icitly raises the question of why man,
if he is so free and is 'absolute lord of his own person and
possessions equal to the greatest, and s�bject. to nobody',
,
will 'part with his freedom . . and sub1ect himself to the
.
dominion and control of any other power ?' The answer,
which is developed most tersely in chapter ix, but also in
subsequent chapters in the second alf of the Tr�atise,
.
�
reveals a progressive reversal of Locke s early descr1pt1on of
the state of nature. To begin with, Locke now makes a
vitally important distinctjon between what is only in prillciple
a right to freedom, and the 'enjoyment' or actualization of
I Tr�a1iu1, ll, chs. ii, i.ii, •, vi, \'ii, viii, ir, xi, xii, n, rvi, rriii, 1i1.
are 24) 1«-tiont in tbc Smwl Tr�•l1u, and ch. ix begins with sec. 1'13.
2 There
:J This it oot to deny tlut C\cD earlifr, at in ate. tJ, 1ockc
.. &�'lb ofthe state ofnatureu
having 'inconvcnic:ncct'. But the question •t hand is a t ddC�iptl�
w� M gives ?(clie_e�snr.ti41
1 Ct Mstnbed 1n the tnt 15 dcc1s1\·c.
qlJality 0( that state, 111d it is on thit point th.at tht sb
 7s THE STATE OF NATURE AND TllE LAW OF NATURE
that right.1 !n realit Yi._the 'enjoyment' of the right _is now
said to be 'very uncertain and constantly exposed to e �
_ invasion of others', because the 'greater part' of__!)'lankmd
-
.___(and not, it will be noticed, only a abcrrant Je1v, a
� L�as
implied al the beginning) are 'no strict ob$erver.s__aLequity
andjustice. . .'. In fact, in the natu;-tl state, a man'spro � !:!Y­ � necessarily leads to 'anarchy', 1 meaning, as was pointed out
-and it should be noted that in this context Locke_exphc1tly
now defines 'property' to include life �nd libe'.ty, as � :U �s
estate-is 'very unsafe, very UnSCCUre , and h1s COnd1tJon IS_
-one 'full of fears and continual dan_gers'. Thisp roves tobe�.
Locke says, because of the lack of three vital things: an
- 'established, settled, known ra,v· which maybe appealed to
as 'the standard of ri �andw_:.02g and the�on:imon m�asur�­
to decide all controversies'; 'a known and indiff
__
erent j!ldge
to apply that law; and finally, real power to back up a sen­
-- tence and give it execution. The lack of all these elements
"Produces a situation in which men1 who are in fact. 'biased
by their interest', 'partial to t hem.selves', and guided by
'passion and revenge', 'seldom fail' to makegood their 'in­
ju�tice' to others by a resort to force, so that 'resistance'­
as in the case of an attempt to pimish another-is 'dangerous
and freqpently destructive o_f those who attempt it'. Thus
�mankind'�nQ_ no_Ljust a few unfortunates, as the early
passages seemed to i'!dicatc, arc 'in but an ill con�ition'
while they remain in the state of nature _ ._
-- These statements, all of which are huddled together in the
first five sections of chapter ix, and which constitute Locke's
reply to his own rhetorical question, not only in themselves
point to a radical alteration in the essential conception of
the state of nature, but set the tone for the descriptive re­
ferences which occur throughout the remainder of the second
halfofthe Treatise. For instance, in section 1 3 1 he repeats the
proposition that the Jack of a positive law, a judge, and
power to execute the law, make the state of nature very
' It s.hould benotal1 in this connuion1 Wt the pasta� at ll, Id--. 19, "·hicb is usu2Uy
rdicd vpo4 to pro\·c that Locke cqu•l<'t the 1t1lc of nature with the lUlC ofpeatc1 docs not
actu.&lly an4 litttaUy ma.k.c that cquatioc, but it ca•ily to n
i terpreted because Loekt, a.t that
point, trill o�ratei v•ithin the cootcxt or the traditional ,·icw.
•
T H E PROGRESSION F R O M O R D E R T O ANARCHY 79
'unsafe and uneasy'. In section r 36 he speaks of the 'dis­
order' and the 'uncertainty' which then prevailed, so that
men's 'properties', including their very lives, were in con­
stant jeopardy. Thereafter, there are at least four passages in
which Locke explicitly says that the absence of government
above, a state of chaos, enmity, and confusion. And finally,
toward the very end of the Second Trealise, Locke says that
the dissolution of government will always 'bring back again
the state of war'2 and that those who are responsible for the
dissolution are guilty of the greatest possible 'crime' because
they 'untie the knot [of civil society] and expose the people
anew to the state of war'.3 There is no longer any reference
whatever to a peaceful state of nature--only the antithesis of
civil society, which he says is ' a state of peace amongst those
who arc of it', and the state of war; and what can Locke mean
by the expressions 'bring back again the state of war' and
'expose the people a11ew to the state of war'• except that the
state prior to or without government is the state of war?
The foregoing analysis is borne out and reinforced,
furthermore, by an unmistakably exact parallel develop­
ment and reversal in Locke's statements concenJing men's
knowledge of-and therefore the possibility of adherence to
-the law of nature in the state of nature. In the first half
of the Second Truuise Locke repeatedly speaks of the prin­
ciples of the law of nature as though they are known to man­
kind, in the state of nature, through natural reason. In
particular, in the chapter on the state of nature he says :
'reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind who will but
consult it that, being all equal and independent, no one
ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty or poss�
_
sions . . ' s A bit later on Locke remarks that though 1t is
. .
'beside' his 'present purpose' to elaborate the particulars of
that Jaw, 'yet it is certain there is such a law, and that, too,
I Stt ,.,,., 2 Trtarists, n. tee. �i6.
p. 75, n. •.
Ibid. 11, ,.... 127, 130.
• Ibid. II, JCCs. 126, 117 (emphasis suppli<d).
•
• Ibid. II,'"'· 6 (cmpluoio s )
uppliol.
So THE STATJ;: OF NATURE A N D T H E LAW OF NATURE
as intelligible and plain to a rational creature and a studier
of that law as the positive laws of a commonwealth . . .'.1
In the chapter on the state of war he at one point defines the
state of nature as one in which men live 'cogether according
to reason, without a common superior on earth with authority
to judge between them . . .'.2 In the chapter on paternal
power he says that the law of nature is 'promulgated or
made known by reason only', but that coming to the 'age'
of reason generally brings with it the exercise of reason and
therefore, presumably, the knowledge of the law of nature.J
In the same chapter he says that the 'freedom' of man is
'grounded on his having reason which is able to instruct him
in that law he is to govern himself by . . .'.4 In other words,
just as Locke conveys the impression in the first half of the
Seco"d Treatise that the state of nature is essentially one of
peace, so he there conveys the impression that men-almost
automatically-come, through reason, to know the law of
nature in that state. Yet a close scrutiny of all the passages on
both these crucial points reveals that he never once in fact
explicitly says that such is the case; one is led to believe
this is so only by Locke's repetition of carefully worded,
ambiguous phrases.
On the other hand, as soon as Locke begins the restate­
�
m n t of the description of the state of nature in chapter ix,
he also begins a restatement of the actual situation with re­
gard to the knowledge of the law of nature. He does this,
as he did in the description of the state of nature, by dis­
tinguishing between the principle and the actuality: the law
of nature is, in principle, 'intelligible and plain' to a 'rational
creature', but in fact, since that law cannot be known except
to one who is a 'studier' of it,5 and since men in the state of
nature are now explicitly said to be 'ignorant for want of
studying it',6 it follows that it is actually unknown.' Thus
instead of men being cognizant of the principle that they are
' 1'r#atiirs, 11, sec. 1z. 1 Ibid. rJ, sec. J9·
1 lbid. ll,sec. 12. 6 lbid.11,•ec:. 124(<mph,.iuupplicd).
' Ibid. ll,s<c. 6}.
, (;(. lbld, 1 J, 6 J : '• • • WC arc born free al '.\'e are borD ratiOnaJ, DOt that WC have actually
the uc-rcite ofeither . . :.
THE PROGRESSION FROM ORDER TO ANARCHY 81
to punish and execute others only according to the natural
law, they arc 'biased', 'partial', and impelled by 'passion and
revenge' to misuse their powers and to ignore the very law
which is meant in principle to guide them.1 An even more
emphatic version of this argument is then presented in
chapter xi, where Locke says that instead of the law of nature
serving as a guide to the peaceful and orderly living of men,
in fact 'it serves not, as it ought, to determine the rights and
fence the properties of those that live under it, especially
where every one is judge, interpreter, and executioner of it,
too, and that in his own case . . .'.2 In both passages Locke
now points to ignorance, passion, and self-centredness as
the fundamental attributes of man in the natural condition,
attributes which are, of course, perfectly complementary to
the revised description of the state of nature as one full of
uncertainty, fear, danger, invasion, and destruction.
If this is the case, these further questions must be raised :
\'\:.hat evidence does Locke present, or at least refer to, to
show that man actually was originally in such a condition ?
What is the argument by which he justifies interpreting
such a condition as the natural one, instead of as an un­
natural one, as would, for example, Aristotle? What, too, is
the character of the 'law' of nature as seen by Locke and as
compared, for example, to the conception held by Hooker,
his seeming authority? And what leads Locke to the idea
that such a state provides a definitive insight into the proper
structuring of political society, or put more generally, that
the 'beginnings' are ofdecisive importance in determining the
'ends' of political society !'3 For the answer to these ques­
tions we must return to a deeper analysis of the connexion
between Locke's conception of political power and his con­
ception of what man possesses simply by nature.
IThe Natural State of Man
3 Ibid. ll, secs. S7, 61. Locke's definition ofpolitical power is given, as we have already
noticed, almost at the very outset of the Seco"d Treatise:
1 Tr1a11111, Jl, 1cc1. 114-6. • Ibid. II, s«. 136. > Sec Note K,p. 2-09.
-· c
a, THE STATE OF NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATURE
Political power, then, I take to be a right ofmaking laws with penal­
ties of death and, consequently, all less penalties for the regulating and
preserving of property, and of employing the force of the community
in the execution ofsuch laws, and in the defence of the commonwealth
from foreign injury, and all this only for the public good.1'
In spite of i� position near the beginning of the work, it is
�
evident that his definition is in the nature of a summary con­
clusion of Locke's investigation. The problem, then, is to
follow the various strands ofthis definition to their respective
roots.1.,
The first element in Locke's definition is a 'right of
making laws with penalties of death', a right which is defined
in reference to the end of 'regulating and preserving' men's
'property'. The inclusion in the definition of the right to
assess the death penalty evidently is meant to show that, for
Locke, it is an integral part of the law-making power; and
this inference is supported by the fact that in the Second
Trea1ise Locke constantly distinguishes political power from
all other forms of power by reason of its 'power over life and
death'.3 This power, in turn, is said to be derived from the
principle that all men have the right to execute the law of
nature in the state of nature, but have surrendered it to
government upon their entry into society. The question is,
first, how Locke shows that the power to put others to death
is, indeed, one which belongs to man by nature, prior to and
independently of any political order, and second, why he
puts so much stress on this power as an integral element of
political power.4
Since the right to put others to death is said to be part of
the law of nature, and since the law of nature, at the begin­
ning of the Second Treatise, is spoken of by Locke in the
traditional terms of 'obligation', it can readily appear that
this right is simply derivative of a more fundamental duty.
1 Tr•ati11s, 11. tee. ]•
1 Thitan.a.Jysit procc:cdt inthe f0Uo"-rin1 chiptcn •• \1'dl a'fo intbepretent oce.For ex.ample.
the po"+c:- touse tl.e forcf of thecommu:Ucy fOT the defence cfthe commonwealth is m.alyc-Cd
in Cbs. J and S· J Tr1�1t1t1. 11, sect. 9,
J ?, z;. 74, 83, 86, 87, 139, 170.
� TLc �et.�ud pi.rt ol thit q,uc1tion it treated in Cb. l·
THE NATURAL STATE OF MAN 83
For example, early in the chapter on the state of nature,
Locke says that 'The state of nature has a law of nature to
govern it which obliges every one', and 'the law of nature . . .
willeth the peace and preservation of all mankind . . .'.1 Thus
Locke speaks, at first, as though there were a fundamental
duty of every man to 'preserve the rest of mankind'/ or that
men may punish with the death penalty only because of the
fact that the occasional offender has committed a 'trespass
against the whole species and the peace and safety of it pro­
vided for by the law of nature',• or that this power follows
from the 'right' a man has 'to preserve mankind in general'.4
But even at this early stage it is vitally important to notice
that Locke inserts little qualifying phrases into his sentences:
A man is bound to preserve the rest of mankind as much as
he can, but only 'when his own preservation comes not in
competition . . .'.s A man is entitled to exact reparations as
part of the execution of the law of nature, and is supposed
to do so by 'calm reason',6 but in fact he may do so by 'right
of self-preservation',' and that right is then contingent upon
the degree to which each individual judges that his own pre­
servation is in fact involved or endangered.
Furthermore, as he proceeds, Locke shifts from the use
of expressions such as 'everyone', 'the whole species', and 'the
preservation of all mankind' to expressions which emphatic­
ally refer to the overriding concern and fundamental right
of the individual. It now appears that the right to put others
to death in the state of nature follows directly from the right
to ward off the threat which another poses to 'my body', 'my
freedom', and 'my property', for it is indeed these which are
in jeopardy.8 It is 'my right' to judge whether another has
even the intention to 'make me a slave', and therefore to take
1 Tru;ik1,U, t«:f. 6 and 7. .i Ibid. Ir, stc. 6. , Ibid. II, sec. 8.
' Ibid. Sec aho tee. t 1. J lbid. ll, sec. 6.
• Ibid. II, .. .,. 8. ' Ibid. JI,•«· II.
I This shift l;c,in.a with the firtt tcction orch. lii (tee. 16}. In (a.:t, n
i ff($, 16-19.. Locke
foUowt a •trictly pan.llf'I form of argumenc. ]d uch acction he he-gins with a t:UtC'mcnt that
refers to ·i-e· &nd 'they-', but be then thiftJ co the emphatic u1e or ·1·. fmc', and •my· u•ben
apaking of the aclual •ppliut1on of the principle. S<c 1.h.o 1«S. 11, ::, 176, 181-4, 1861
w7.
8� T H E STATE OF NATURE A N D THE LAW OF NATURE
advantage of the fact that '[ should hav� a right t? est:oy
.
� to be first and foremost concerned with the 'right' of self­
that which threatens me with destruction . Even w1thm civil
society, the positive law, which was made for 'my preserva­
tion', is of no help whatever in situations in which it cannot
interpose to secure 'my life from present force, which, iflost,
is capable of no reparation', and it therefore permits 'me
my own defence and the right of war . . .'.1 Indeed, whenever
Locke wishes to emphasize the essential character of the so­
called law of nature, he uses first person singular references,
which dramatize the extent to which the individual's con­
cern and the individual's right are at the heart of that 'law'.
This is shown, more generally, by the fact that after the first
few sections of the Second Treatise, Locke gradually shifts
to a usage which speaks of self-preservation as 'the funda­
mental law of nature' and as 'the first and fundamental
natural law' by which men arc in fact guided,z and this
emphasis, which is repeated in nearly one-fifth of the total
number of sections of the Second 'l'rcatise, permeates the
whole of his political teaching. Thus when Locke says in the
chapter on the state of nature that 'it would be beside my
present purpose to enter here into the particulars of the law
down in the whole of the work. h
�
of nature',3 he implicitly refers the reader to the general
treatment of the basis of that law as it lies scattered up and
7 ereas at the beginning,
or in chapter ii, he refers to the ight to execute the law of
nature in such a way as to imply that it is derived from a
natural duty to care for all of 'mankind', in chapter ix, which
is to say in the context of his reversal of the description of the
natural state, he speaks of 'the power' of a man 'co do what­
soever he thinks fit for the preservation of himself' and for
'others'. The context now leaves no doubt as to which has
the natural priority.-4 In short, the 'law' of nature turns out
1 Tr4-4liut, II, arc. 19. A 11rikin1 furure: of boch th(" chspcer on cht u2te of nacur< and
that on t.M st.ate or war is the way in which Locke abruptly and ttpcatedly shif1s b.:k and
forthfrom these $tales usuch to 1ituatiocu whichcan and doaccur onlywltbinaci'fi l toeiety.
Jth.J.rdly s.cmu likely that 1biJ is accid.tntal, and it SUUtstS th1t the SU.le of nature is never
vtty far away,c�cn for mm who li,•c within a political order.
• Jbid. ll,secs. 16, •s. 1:8, 13+, 135, 149, 159, 16!, 183.
3 Ibid. n, se.e. 11. 4 Ibid. JI,'"· 1z.8.
THE NATURAL STATE OF MAN ss
preservation, and only secondarily or derivatively with 'duty'
'
to others or to a transcendent order.
The ambiguity created by Locke's use of the traditional
expression 'law of nature' to refer to what is, in effect, a set of
principles revolving around the indefeasible right to self­
preservation is compounded by the fact that it is difficult
to uncover the reasoning which leads him to assert the
natural primacy of that right. For the sum of his argument,
as it appears in the chapter on the state of nature, amounts to
this: Men are equal with regard to their right to execute the
law of nature-which, Stated more candidly, means the
right to do whatsoever is judged necessary to the maintenance
of one's corporeal being, including the killing of those who
area threat-because they all are 'creatures ofthe same species
and rank, promiscuously born to all the same advantages of
nature and the use of the same faculties . . .'.1 This is clearly
insufficient. What we want to know is what those 'faculties'
are, how they arc to be understood in terms of their relative
priority, and how they are connected to the 'same advantages
ofnature'. Yct practical! y no argument or explanation on these
matters is to be found at this point in the Second Treatise.
A re-examination of the whole of the Treatises reveals that
certain passages on the problem of self-preservation are
scattered through the F irst Treatise as well as the Second.
Now the passages in the First Treatise are distributed in such
a way as to progress from those most imbedded in the
seemingly genuine context of biblical interpretation to those
which are least so, or not at all. Yet such passages are com­
pletely unobvious if one looks merely to the thematic s�l:>­
jects as indicated in the chapter titles. To be more specific
and concrete, the passages in question are to be found in
chapters iv, vi, and ix.2 In chapter iv Locke attacks Filmer's
t TreuiuJ, 11.. sec. 4.
• Jt ;, intctttting that not only ar<: these thtte chapter• !inlt<d by the fact that Locke
trcata theproblem of1clf·ptttUV1tion in 1bt:m, belt each ofthe chapters also contain.t ex.actly
twcnty·thtee sections, and thdc are tbe onl7 c.haptcrs n i the whole of the Trc(ltiui to con­
t.a.in. that number.
86 THE STATE OF N A T U R E AND THE LAW OF N A T U R E
idea of 'Adam's Title to Sovereignty by Donation', and in
the course of that attack raises the question as to what is
meant by 'property in possession'. I-le concludes that the
'utmost property man is capable of' is to 'have a right to
destroy anything by using it', and points out that Adam was
in a worse position than carnivorous beasts; Adam's 'pro­
perty' in the 'brutal part of the creatures' was 'narrow and
scanty' since he, unlike the carnivores, was not even 'per­
mitted' to take 'a kid or a lamb out of the flock to satisfy his
hunger . . .'.1 Thus Locke tacitly, at this stage, raises a
question concerning the biblical story, according to which
brute creatures might more easily preserve themselves than
Adam. Then, in chapter vi, which is the central chapter of
the First Treati.se, and which is titled 'Of Adam's Title to
Sovereignty by Fatherhood', Locke again speaks of the
brute creatures and man's relation to them; but this time he
explicitly says that there is a 'general rule which nature
teaches all things--of self-preservation . .'.2 By his illustra­
. being' he has a 'right to make use of those creatures which
tion with respect to wild beasts, Locke now suggests that
what 'nature teaches' is so directly implanted in all living
things that it operates universally and without any need for
it to be recognized as such by rational means. The third, the
most explicit, and the most decisive set of passages is found
in chapter ix. This chapter, titled 'Of Monarchy by In­
heritance from Adam', seems, at first glance, to be like the
other two chapters in the Firu Treatise in which the passages
on self-preservation occur. But closer inspection shows that
it is different in one important respect : whereas chapters iv
and vi contain numerous explicit quotations from the Bible,
there is not a single such quotation in the whole of chapter
ix, even though there are, indeed, references to biblical books
and figures. \-\'hat this seems to mean is that chapter ix is less
dependent on the authority of the Bible than are the others,
a supposition which is confirmed by the fact that not only
does Locke once again introduce the subject of the connexion
between man and the animals, but he also now, in a succes-
1 TrL.atiu1, I, sec. l9· • Ibid. I, tee. 56 (cmphuis •upplied).
THE NATURAL STATE OF MAN 87
sion of increasingly positive statements, traces the right to
self-preservation to its natural roots.
In section 8 6 he says that man has 'planted in him, as in
all other animals, a strong desire of self-preservation. . .'.
vVithout the existence of that desire, as well as food, raiment,
and other necessaries to satisfy it, this 'curious and wonder­
ful . . . piece of workmanship' would 'perish again presently,
after a few moments continuance'. Just as the 'sense and
instinct' of the inferior animals are 'serviceable' as 'means'
to their preservation, so the 'senses and reason' of man are
the 'means of his preservation'. Hence, even before God's
alleged donation of the right to eat the creatures, Locke does
not 'doubt' that man had 'a right to an use of the creatures';
for, he now says, the 'desire, strong desire of preserving his
life and being' has been 'planted in him as a principle of
action', and reason will 'teach' him and 'assure' him that in
'pursuing that natural inclination he had to preserve his
by his reason or senses he could discover would be service­
able thereunto'. In the next section the equality of right to
the creatures is brought in again, on the grounds of the
'right' everyone had to 'take care of, and provide for, their
subsistence'. But the discussion of how and why this general
right to things in common is translated into a particular
right to specific things is deferred, says Locke, to 'another
place', which proves to be the crucial chapter on property in
the Second Treatise. Finally, in section 88, Locke says that
'where the practice is universal, it is reasonable to think the
cause is natural'. Immediately afterwards he says that the
'first and strongest desire', and one which is 'wrought into
the very principles' of man's 'nature', is the desire of 'self­
preservation'; it is the 'foundation of a right to the creatures
for the particular support and use of each individual person
himself'. It is also, therefore, and even more surely, the
'foundation' of the right to destroy others f i they threaten
the individual's bare existence.
Thus, according to Locke, there is a vital connexion
as THE STATE OF NATURE A N D THE LAW OF NATURE
between desires and rights, a connexion which may now be
reformulated as follows: The desires (or the passions) con­
stitute the basic and ineradicable motive force of human life;
they are directly implanted by nature in the living organism
prior to and independent of any social conditioning or
training, and therefore constitute constantly operative prin­
ciples of action. However, there is also a discernible natural
hierarchy among the desires; the desire for self-preserva­
tion, which in its most natural form would be the mere
spontaneous impulse to continue one's bare corporeal exis­
tence, is primordial, universally operative, and the most
powerful of all desires. As such, it reflects-though in a
blind way-the physical fact that without continued exis­
tence, no other desire is possible or necessary. The senses,
and more crucially, the reason, on the other hand, are con­
ceived of essentially as means to the end of preservation,
which is to say as derivative of, or intended by nature to
serve as instruments for, the gratification of the desires or
passions.I A striking formulation of this relationship is to be
found as'
early as 1677 in a passage in Locke's Journal, where
he says : ' . . . the first care of nature being to be safe, fear
where we are ignorant is the forwardest of the passions, it
being too late to take care after we are hurt' ; the 'senses',
being subordinate in their functioning to the 'first care of
nature', are 'given us for the preservation of our bodies'.
Thus, for example, Locke refers to the eyes as 'those great
watchmen of our safety', and the subordination of sight to
the overriding, spontaneous concern for safety is shown, in
his view, by the fact that 'almost all new things to which we
are perfectly strangers do at first unexpected sight affright
us'.1
This conception of the natural primacy of the desire for
self-preservation and of the instrumental character of the
senses and reason, becomes the foundation, in the Treatises,
of what Locke chooses to call the 'law of nature'; but it is
a law of nature which bears practically no resemblance,
t See Note L. p. �09.
THE NATURAL STATE OF MAN
except in name, to what was meant by most of his contem­
poraries, and certainly can in no way be reconciled with what
his seeming authority, Richard I looker, meant by the natural
law.1 For Locke argues, in effect, that it is the desires which
exist by nature, and that that which is the operative force
par excellence in human existence must also be made the
fundamental principle in the construction of political society
-must be, that is, if political society is to be constructed
consonant with and not in opposition to the natural causes
of human activity. Since it is the overriding, passionate
desire to be safe which is the spring of human action, the
so-caUed 'law of nature' must, if it is to be realistically based,
grant the right of men to that which they are powerless not
to seek.2
(I'his is not to say, however, that nature as such, in Locke's
conception, provides either the conditions under which
man's greatest desire may be effectively gratified, or the
principles by which such conditions might be effectively
produced. On the
contrary1 a close analysis of what he
means by the state of nature in the sense of what is directly
supplied to man by the spontaneous hand of nature reveals
that what Locke at times chooses euphemistically to call
'inconveniences' of the natural state are really desperate,
miserable, and unrelentingly hostile circumstances, from
which man is or may be liberated only by his own equally
}I
unrelenting activity and travail t is significant in itself that
a major part of the treatment of this dimension of the state
of nature is set forth in the crucial chapter on property.
\¥hat is more, of a total of five passages in the First Treatise
which direct the reader's attention to a continuation of the
argument in the Second Treatise, four occur in chapter ix
(which is to say in the context of the connexion Locke makes
1 Sec Note M, p. �
2 See apeci.ally Tr,titis,1, I,s.ec. 92. ln this pauagc, which oc.curs at the centre ofchapter
ix, and whic.h iJ a 1umma.ry 1tatemcot o( c.hc conn�zion betwttn the.desire for sdf-prcicrva.­
tion and the origin ofgo,-crnmcnt, it it Ultcresting tMt Loe.kc rd'cn not to the"law ofn.at\lrc'
u the guide, but rat.her to the 'l1w1 of aat\lre', to which the pociri,•clawt ought to conform.
The on.17 other time in the Trt41iSfl wh�rc be UJ.eS the plural fonn is in L. s.cc. S1, and t.ht:i-c
too hejOlDS •lano(nttUtt' lO �'cons.titutionSof goivemmatt'. Cf. i:nf,.4, Ch. ], pp. JI I-12.
90 THE STATE OF NATURE A N D Tl!E LAW OF NATURE
between the right to self-preservation and what nature sup­
plies to that end), and two of these direct the reader to the
chapter on property for a fulier statement.1
\The question, then, is this: What docs nature qua nature
supply or do to gratify man's overwhelming and natural
desire to be preserved? That is to say, to what extent does
nature qua nature provide direct support for the 'rights'
which Locke alleges are primary and which are said to
belong to man even prior to political society? The answer to
this question depends, in the first place, upon an analysis of
what Locke means by the 'natural intrinsic value' of a thing,
in the context of his argument on property.2 The natural
value of a thing is defined by Locke in a singular fashion
and in reference to a single problem: what good the thing
is, as it exists in the original-which is to say the 'spon­
taneous' or 'unassisted' condition of 'nature'-to the sub­
sistence of human life.3 Thus he says in one place that the
'intrinsic value' of the 'things of nature' really 'depends o"ly
on their usefulness to the life of man . . .'.4 Now the bare
maintenance of life in man, as in the animals, requires that
he eat and drink, and his desires naturally impel him to seek
out those 'materials' which might satisfy this overriding
'necessity'.S But the 'things' which nature provides not only
exist in a 'common' state-whereas it is each discrete indi­
vidual man whose body is in need of maintenance-but
what is more, those things exist, by narure, only in a state
which is 'wild'.6 In order for them to be of the least 'use' in
maintaining a bare existence, not only must they be 're­
moved' from the 'common state they were in', but what is
more crucial, they must be 'altered' from the 'natural state'
i 'Ir�tttiu.1,t,sect. S7, 90. Theother three references .arc to .a conrinu.ationoftheargument
cocurniug •patcr11.al pov.er' (1cct. 66, 96, 100). Tbttit is, morcoTt:rt an inr�tsti.og collJlcxion
bet\\"«n the two 1opic1 lo. the F1r11 Trti111'J1 the trtatmttt cf 'fa.thcrhood' a.o.J 'propcty'
in that order, whcther trn.teJ 1eparatd7 or tcrc.thcr; in the Sner:d Tr,atist the copies
.
occurs
arc trc.atcd se:pan.tdy, but in consccuti"e tbapten, md the order iJ Tl'VtT'Jtd. Thelatterorder,
one may s.ay, it the more important because 1he most accurate with rcvrJ to the na.tunl
aniculation, as Lode t«t il. s Ibid. 11, uc. 43. Sec ah:o Stt. 4-6.
> ibid. 11, «a. 26, 37, 4:, H· • Ibid. 11, sec. 37 (<mphuis •upplied).
' Ibid. 11, seca. +i, +J, 46.
6 Ibid. II, •ec. 48.
TUE NATURAL STATE OF MAN 91
in order to provide nourishment or protection. That is, for
example, the 'acorn', which is provided in its 'natural state'
in the 'wild common of nature' is not, qua acorn, of any use
whatever in maintaining life; it is only as that acorn is taken
up, eaten, and digested-which is to say, transformed from
its natural condition by being worked or acted upon by
another part of the natural order-that it attains any value
whatever with regard to the support of human life.1 The
extent to which J.ocke insists upon the importance of the
'alteration' of what exists or is given only by 'nature' is
strikingly shown by the fact that, as his argument proceeds
in the chapter, there is quite literally a regular progression
in the ratio by which he distinguishes that which 'nature'
contributes from that which is produced by man's 'labour' in
the process of 'altering' the 'things of nature'. In section 37
the ratio is I to 10; in section 40 it increases to r to 100; in
section 43 it increases to 1 to I ,ooo. And although at the
beginning of the chapter Locke speaks as if it is God and
nature which give all good things to man, in section 43 he
says that 'nature ::ind the earth furnished only the almost
worthless materials as in themselves'.2 But he goes even
further to emphasize the point: the mere fact of picking an
acorn up from the ground constitutes, in Locke's language,
'labour', and requires 'pains' and 'industry' on the man's
part; by so seemingly simple an act man has already added
more to the thing than 'nature' ever did or could provide.
IIt is the essential 'condition of human life' that man must
'labour' on 'materials' which are practically worthless in the
form they come to him from 'unassisted nature'.3 \
This is not all, for it is not merely the 'external' ngs torlu
which Locke's analysis applies. Men's lot, in the beginning,
is to be much more part of nature than when n i civil society.
The necessity of subsisting then is as great as it can ever be,
yet Locke says, 'Men, at first, for the most part contented
themselves with what unassisted nature offered to their
' Tr
�
ah0t1, II, sect. a6, 28, JO, 37, +:, 4-l• +8.
1
• (E.mphuis supplieJ.) ' Ibid. n, aeu. 3s, 42.
91 THE STATE OF NATURE AND TJIE LAW OF NATURE
necessities. . '. 1 That is, they had to make do with acorns,
.
water, and leaves, not because they might wish it to be so,
but because of the lack of 'invention and arts' to 'improve'
those 'almost worthless' raw materials, and turn them into
bread, wine, and cloth.2 In such a condition, it is a good
question whether there is even the knowledge of how to make
fire, for that in itself would constitute an 'art' depending
upon certain 'ioventions'.J Only by man's own 'industry'
and 'pains' would such things be discovered, or more
properly speaking, made; for they cannot possibly, in
Locke's conception, be part of what man possesses im­
mediately from the hand of nature. It is small wonder,
therefore, that I .ocke should describe man's condition as
one of 'penury', the condition of nature as one of 'waste',
and the release from this dreadful condition as possible only
by 'our industry and pains'.4
The question is, however, what all this means with regard
to the very 'faculties' by which men eventually come to the
development of the 'arts' and 'inventions'. In the condition
in which man exists in the 'unassisted' state of nature, such
faculties obviously cannot be effective or actually in use.
And if it is true, as Locke Aatly asserts at one point, that
'it is labour indeed that put the difference of value on every­
it must follow that it is labour, or man's own pains
thing',s
and activity, which transformed the rudimentary natural
organs and primitive faculties into something useful to
man's preservation and to the production of his security and
comfort. Or as Locke puts it in his little work titled 0/ rhe
Conduct of1l1e Understanding, even with regard to the faculty
of reason 'we may truly say, nature gives us but the seeds of
it; we are born to be, if we please, rational creatures, but it is
use and exercise only that make us so, and we are, indeed, so
• T,.-,111iu1, ll, tee. 4S·
' lbttl. II, ..._ 4+
3 Sect.be lnteretti.o.g tcq,'iCC.Cc ofactiont listed ar ltt. 1B: digesting. eatinf, boiling, bring·
inghoax, gi.thuiog. or tht.e, the boil,ng, or cooking, is the central item; yet, u is argued
in the text, cooking ·would dtp<cd oo the •rt ofmaking a lirt.
4 See Note l\, p. �10.
s Tr�lllit�s, Il, toe. 40 (cmphuit auppri�).
T H E NATURAL STATE OF MAN 93
no farther than industry and application have carried us'.1
These remarks, made specifically with regard to men who
alreadJ'. enjoy the resources of the great development of arts
and sciences which prevail within civil societies, are, when
transferred to the situation of man in the truly natural condi­
tion, most suggestive. They mean, when taken together with
the analysis of nature given by Locke, that man's rationality
is not, strictly speaking, a 'natural state' of affairs, that it
develops painfully and slowly only if and when industry and
pains are exerted, and that the central impulse to that de­
velopment is the desire to be preserved. This means, in
turn, that Locke's eventual description of the state of nature
as one of continual fears, dangers, misery, and anarchy, i n
which everyone is reduced to the state of a struggle for mere
existence, becomes perfectly consistent: men, so far from
being 'studiers' of the law of nature in the pristine condition,
do not even possess the requisite development of the faculties
by which such a law could be conceived. They are guided,
like the animals, by desires and the senses, to a ru.de1 brutish,
dangerous, and extremely uncertain existence.2 1
�o come out of this condition, according to Locke's way
of thinking, requires a radical altcration of whatever exists
by nature; for what man has in principle a right to-security
of life, liberty, and property-is in fact almost wholly denied
to him by nature. Or put more generally, it is now evident
that Locke's intense concern with the origins of political
power is rooted in the profound conviction that it is pre­
cisely man's utter lack of power in the state of nature which
reduces him to such an 'ill condition'.3 But power, including
power over the realm of nature, is almost wholly a result of
human activity; and it is the proper 'work' of reason, which
I Of1A1 C<Nill<t•ftA1 u.JmtJ•ai.,, .... 6 (H'orh, ii. 337 [empla>is supplied]).
2 ct. J. J. Rowsuu, DiucW't 1;..r/'Oriti'" tt l.tt Ffl•:lnw•s tk f/11lg::Lt� P4T'r#iIts 8<>11P1Us.,
note 1z. Rouueau a-ugg<:stt1 in chi1 loo1 note to hit text, that Lock�, like Hobbcf.. has csrried
back into the it.ateofn.aturc a numberofattributes \\·hich bclo!lg to ml.!lonly in ci\-il societ
y.
One ke:y point is the question of whether colulMtatioo i.o that state is •regutar•. But if OJlC
loo.ks into Loc:kc'a a.rgumcat in. the m.:n.nu tuutstcd in the present 1tudy, Rousseau·s
charge becomes questionable.. Cf. Trtatiu1, n, sec. 6s with secs. 78-82.
J Tretih'u1, 11., sec.. 117.
94 THE STATF. OF NATURE AND TIIE LAW OF NATURE
has itself been brought to actualization by human pains and
industry, to work out the principles by which a political
order may be built so as to most effectively conduce to the
gratification of the ineradicable desire for preservation and
comforts. Yet it is obvious that this particular work of
reason can never have taken place in the truly natural condi­
tion; it apparently depends upon the prior establishment of
what are in effect essentially defective political orders, but
which provide the circumstances in which the industry and
pains of men such as Locke may bring forth the principles
of the proper political society ofche future.1 These principles,
which Locke chooses to refer to as the 'law of nature', are in
reality the product of the mind, working upon the nearly
worthless materials of nature. And the entry of man into the
promised land is, therefore, so far from being a work of
nature or the blessing of God, that it is the promised result
only of the successful conquest of nature by man's reason
on behalf of those natural impulses which he finds in himself
from the very beginning.
On the Reality of.the State efNature
The preceding analysis suggests the further question of
whether Locke conceives of such a bleak state of nature as
having literally existed, and if so, on the basis of what his­
torical evidence. The answer to this may be given by re­
ference to two dilferent sources to which Locke refers. The
first is to be found, significantly, in the chapter on the state
of nature, and consists of a seemingly innocuous reference
to a story in Garcilaso de la Vega's History of Peru.2 The
second concerns Locke's general view of the Americas, and
particularly, his dependence upon a single quotation from
Jose de Acosta's Natural and Aforal HiJrory of the Indies,
I Tr�a.ti11.:. n, •«-· r 11. Locke bcrc rtftrt 10 the 'future aies'-tbJit is, future from the
viewpoint of the state of natu.ro-v.bc:n it wa1 'ntctuary to uaminc more cudully the
original iind rigbu ofp·cmmeat . . .'.
d . If, see. 14. Cf. Locke'• quotactoo from Cal"(:ib.•o de la V�p �t I, sec. 57, at which
2 Ibi
place be acwalJy givn • ciu.lio:a to the precise location in Vega.
O N THE REALITY OF THE STATE OF NATURE 9S
which is to be found in the chapter on the 'beginnings' of
political societies.1
The reference to the story in Garcilaso de la Vega is very
brief, even cryptic. Locke merely says that 'The promises
and bargains for truck, etc., between the two men in the
desert island, mentioned by Garcilasso de la Vega, in his
History of Peru, or between a Swiss and an Indian, in the
woods of America, are binding to them, though they are
perfectly in a state of nature in reference to one another . . . '.
The story, to which Locke, curiously, gives no exact citation,
is found in book i, chapters vii and viii, and may be sum­
marized as follows: Pedro Serrano, sole survivor of a ship­
wreck, is cast ashore on a tiny island which is deserted and
uninhabitable; it lacks wood, water, grass, or 'anything
wherewith to maintain life'. At first in despair, Serrano
eventually finds a few shellfish, then kills some turtles which
come ashore, thus securing raw meat and blood to drink;
the turtle shells then become containers to catch rain water.
Next, he builds a fire with flint on his knife, using thread
from his shirt as tinder, and securing fuel from seaweed,
drift wood, and fish bones. Before long his clothes rot; his
skin is blackened and looks like a boar's hide; his hair
reaches his waist. Meanwhile, his entire effort is consumed
in keeping the fire and securing food. But no ship sees his
fire, and as three years pass his despair deepens. Then, one
day, when he no longer is thinking of the possibility,
Serrano actually sees a man-another victim of shipwreck.
But each takes the other for the devil, and they flee; the
situation is temporarily saved, however, by Serrano's cry of
'Jesu, save me from the devil'. Thus recogniz.ing each other
as Christians, they come together and agree to divide up the
care of tending the fire and gathering food; but they soon
quarrel over the proper share in the labours, and part. Only
later do they come together again, and remain so on uneasy
terms until, four more years having elapsed, they are finally
rescued by a ship which sees their fire; but even then the
1 Tr1111i11s, 11, (t'(, 101.
96 THE STATE OF NATURE /\ N D THE LAW OF NATURE
sailors are encouraged to come ashore only because the two
animal-like figures chant the Credo.1
Several points concerning Locke's use of this story de­
serve comment. First, it is the only explicit citation in the
chapter on the state of nature other than the two to Hooker,
and it is the only citation which specifically refers to historical
examples of men in that state. It therefore is the crucial
citation in the chapter. But it is Locke, not Vega, who says
that these two wretched creatures are in the state of nature;
for Vega, they are in a state which, precisely because it
borders on that of the beasts, is therefore unnatural. In other
words, Vega's work provides the factual material, and Locke
provides his own interpretation of what the situation actually
is with respect to man's nature. Second, Locke's cryptic and
innocent-sounding reference to 'promises and bargains for
truck' naturally leads one to expect that the two men are
engaged in some sort of commercial transactions. In fact, as
is only too evident, there is so little provided by nature for
these two men's bare existence, that the whole of their
activity is devoted to overcoming the malignity of nature's
oppression. Tt is, in effect, an extreme illustration of Locke's
contention that only by the relentless application of skill and
industry can even a miserable existence be wrested from
nature. Third, although it is true that the two inen are
eventually reconciled, on an expediential basis, Locke's
Journal for 8 February 1 6 8 7 contains an illuminating re­
mark which shows more explicitly than does the preceding
analysis here how little he actually conceived of a natural
sociability among men. The entire entry is as follows:
Pedro Serrano, that lived 3 year.> in a desolate island alone, and
after that time another shipwrecked man came to him; and being but
two they could not agn.-c. Garcilaso de la Vega, Hirtoire du Tncot
I. r . c. 8.•
In other words, without the existence of a third party to
1 See Note 0, p. i.10. • Loclte MSS., f. 9, fol. 98.
O N T H E REALITY OF THE STATE OF NATURE 97
whom one or the other of the two might turn for an ally, any
agreement which might be reached is bound to be precarious.
Fourth, and following from the last point, is the fact that
Locke is fully aware that the two men in question are not
;
strictly speaking, fully in the natural state, for both have' b
misfortune, been separated when already adults from the
civil society which gave them birth. They had, therefore,
already acquired a training in the processes of a civil society,
and were in possession of skills and arts without which their
survival and rescue would have been even more doubtful,
not to say impossible. For example, Serrano's knife would
depend upon the art of metal-working, his knowledge of how
to make a fire upon the combined use of stone, metal, and
tinder, and his training in civil relations and the Christian
faith upon the development and conveyance of these in his
European homeland. Hence, in spite of their wretched con­
dition, these men retained some of the vestiges of the civil
order. One may say, then, that these men represent a kind
of half-way step on the way back towards the truly original
condition.
Where, then, would one find any specific evidence, in
Locke's view, of the actuality of the latter condition? It is
worth noting, for one thing, that the story of Pedro Serrano
is taken from one of two books on the Americas to which
explicit reference is made in the Treatises. It is as though
Locke wished, by citing a story from this particular source,
to draw attention to the Americas as a further extension of
the argument concerning the state of nature, but in this case,
with respect to an example of Europeans i n America.
Furthermore, contrary to the view according to which Locke,
like the other 'rationalist' natural-law theorists of the seven­
teenth century, knew little and cared even less about em­
pirical evidence on primitive conditions, the fact is that he
was an omnivorous reader of travel-books, the seventeenth­
century equivalent of anthropological tracts. His personal
papers, and especially his Journals, contain scores of re­
ferences to and extracts from such works long prior to the
0063 H
9& THE STATE OF' NATURE AND THE LAW O F NATURE
publication of the TreatiseJ. 1 llis interests were ca holic,
.
� entry of 1677, their 'minds arc as ill-clad as their bodies', the
both in the sense that he gathered matenals concernm� all
portions of
the globe, and in the sen�e tha� �e probed mt?
all aspects of the origins, and the social, rehg10us, and poli­
tical circumstances of the peoples concerned, whether they
were in Ceylon or the forests of America. �ence, �t is
striking that of all the scores of such books to which he nught
have referred in the Trearisu, he selects only those by Vega
and Acosta, both of which are on Peru. This selection re­
inforces the fact that he refers to 'the Americas' more than a
score of times in the Two Treatiu1, and of these, nearly half
occur in the chapter on property, which is to say in the con­
text of his very revealing interpretation of what na tu
_ sup­
re
plies-or rather fails to supply-to man.l Th� Am_encas are
instructive, according to Locke, because the s1tuat:Jon of the
Indians there 'is still a pattern of the first ages in Asia and
Europe . . . '.3
The Indians are divided into 'little indepen­
dent societies' or 'tribes', often under a 'king', whose chief
qualification or claim to rule is his pre-eminent _abil ity as a
.
warrior.4 These little tribes of men, though few m compari­
son to the territory they inhabit, are universally ' needy and
wretched' in their condition; they must even 'now' look
after the bare necessities, as did the 'first commoners', and
even their 'kings' fare worse than do 'day-labourers' i n
England.s This is not, of course, due to lack land, but of
precisely to the lack of inventions and arts by which the
'vacant' and 'uncultivated waste' of America might be trans­
formed, by industry and labour, into productive estates.6
Thus their ignorance reduces them nearly to the level of
brutes; or as he says of these wretched creatures in a Journal
1 For the yurs 1675"9 •« 1be entriet compiled by John Lo�gh, 'Locke's Reading
during hit tl•Y in frat1cc {1675-79),' Tt.. Li il rar:1, Fifih Seria, viii (S<:ptcmber 1953)..
n9-58. Se<: also, for example, the Joum.t for r683: Locke MSS., r. 7, fols. 1, 6, 13, 24.
:S-311 ;7;,o,99, 1�, 121, 1-:5, 129, IJ01 14:, 146.
,. Tr1�tit1t, 1, •cct. 571 130, t J t, 1+2. 144, t S3; 11, ten. 9, 141 �6, JO, 36, 371 40, 41,
4 46, 48, 49, 65, 101, 10s, 108, .a.,. Scc1. 26-.+9 occur in the ciu.ptu Oil property.
3,
> Ibid. ll, iec. 1ol.
� Ibid. t, sec,. 'ff; 11, KC:S. 1021 10s, 108.
• lbi4. ll, •en. 37, +1, +6. • Ibid. 11, secs. 37, +8.
O N THE REALITY O F THE STATE O F NATURE 99
latter condition :irising from the former. 1
Still, a rudimentary form of political organization exists,
as Locke acknowledges, in these 'little independent societies',
and that might seem to indicate that his conception of men
devoid of any such organization is only an extrapolation
from the condition of the Indians, or that there was never
quite literally an unsocial or pre-political condition. (Even if
this were the case, it would not essentially affect his con­
ception of the natural condition as one of anarchy and misery,
for the Indians, as they are, constitute graphic evidence of
)
this, to his way of thinking. On the other hand, toward the
end of the chapter on property, Locke, by way of summation,
says that 'in the beginning all the world was America and
more so than that is now . . .'.2 The particular context is a
reference to the lack of 'money' everywhere; but the more
general context-i.e. the analysis ofthe niggardliness ofnature
-suggests that what Locke means is that the contemporary
condition of the Indians is already a later stage of human
development, and that prior to that, the mere state of nature
was actual. Yet he does not directly cite specific historical
evidence that such was the case-a fact which is not sur­
prising in view of his conception of
the mere �tate � f nature,
,
and the pains he takes to make that concept10n difficult to
discover. This is not to say, however, that Locke has no
such evidence in mind; in fact, I believe that he provides the
reader with quite specific directions as to where it may be
found and does so by the use of a single quotation from
�
Acost 's The 1Va1ural and Moral Iliuory ofthe Jndies.3
Locke quotes Acosta in chapter viii �'Of the Begi� nini;-; of
Political Societies') in the course of his reply to this objec­
tion : that no historical examples are to be found of a com­
pany of men freely gathering to deliberately erect a political
t Locke MSS., f. i, fol. 4- [A the origital Loeb has uruc:k out the word '•ouls' and
rcpbe>d it wiih 'mind•".
2 Trut:"us, IJ, ,.cc, 49 {cmplutit tupplied).
J JoS.C de Aco�u, T�.. 1''.1tru4/ 11,,/ /ilwal /ltflUJ •/tlu lnJNs, trtnJ. Edward Grims-ton
{London: PriAtcd f<>r U.. Hakluyt Society, 1$80), • Yoll.
1 00 THE STATE OF NATURE A N D THE LAW OF NATURE
society by the rules which Locke elaborates. Referri ng first
to the 'beginnings' of Rome and Venice as 'examples'­
but giving no citation, as has been previously noted1-
Locke then says:
And if Josephus Acosta's word may be taken, he tells us chat in
many parts of America chere was no government at all.
'There are great and apparent conjectures,' says he, 'that these men,'
speaking of those of Peru, 'for a long time had neither kings nor
commonwealths, but lived in troops, as they do this day in Florida, the
Cheriquanas, tl1ose of Br.isil, and many other nations which have no
certain kings, but as occasion is offered, in peace and war, they choose
their captains as they please.' (I. i. c. 25).•
Locke then goes on to conclude that 'their politic societies
all began from a voluntary union and the mutual agreement
of men freely acting in the choice of their governors and
forms of government'. Finally, for good measure, he adds
one further example-the citation to Justin's account of the
founding of Tarentum by Palantus.3 Thus there are two
examples with citations and two without. But we have
already seen4 that the founding of Tarentum, so confidently
presented as though it were an example of government
founded by consent in vacuis locis, is in reality, according to
_
Justin, a government founded by a band of brigands from
Spa�ta, a�d accomplished by the conquest and expulsion of
the inhabitants of Tarentum. What then are we to think of
Locke's equally confident presentation here of the Indians in
Peru as his other example for w?ich a citation is given ? And
_ directs the reader to other parts of his work for the more
how 1s the passage quoted, which conveys, given the speci­
fic context of chapter viii, a rather idyllic picture of the found­
ing and operation of government among these Indians, to be
rcconciled with the analysis, just presented here, of Locke's
: chapter viii of the Second Treatise, seems to present as the
view of the miserable, animal-like condition of the India11s?
The answers, I think, are to be found by doing exactly
. but a stage m the emergence from complete savagery; it is
wha� was done �n the case of the r�ference to Justin: by
. preceded by a conditio11 'altogether barbarous, com posed of
turn mg to the origmal source and putting the quotation back
• See "lote P, p. 210. 2 Trrat;l(I, II, sec:. 102.
• Ibid. II, ICC. 103. • Sec wpr11, Ch. 1, pp. 42-4+
O N THE REALITY OF THE STATE OF NATURE 101
in. con�ext as Locke himself suggests the reader ought to do
?
with citations of authority. What then appears is this: The
statement from Acosta is taken from book i, chapter xxv,
and that chapter is titled, significantly, '\Vhat the Indians
repcrt of the�r beginning'. The gist of Acosta's argument in
this chapter 1s to the effect that what the Indians themselves
report of their beginnings is 'more like unto dreames then
to true lli tories'. 1 Now Locke himself, in chapter vii , just
_ �
i
prior to his use of the quote from Acosta, takes pains to
_
pomt �ut that all 'com�o�wealths' are as 'ignorant of their
� _
ow� b1� s and infancies as are 'particular persons', for
their ongms necessarily precede 'records' and 'letters'. The
latter comprise 'arts' which come into being amongst a
people only after 'a long continuation of civil society has, by
other more necessary arls, provided for their safety, ease and
plenty. . .'. If commonwealths know anything of their true
ori?ins, they are beholden for such knowledge to 'the
accidental records that others have kept of it'.2 Acosta's
account, therefore, of the original condition of the Indians of
P�ru, would constitute such a record, and it is obviously for
this reason that his work is cited by Locke in this particular
place. The fact is, however, that Acosta's own account of the
:historic' of the Indians' original condition is fou11d not only
.
m book 1, chapter xxv, but even more particularly, in book
vi, chapter xix, which is titled 'Of the Originall of the Yncas,
Lords of Peru, with their Conquests and Victories'. Further­
more, Acosta, at the end of book i, chapter xxv explicitly
authentic account of the original condition of the Indians, as
well as of the beginning of their 'comminalties'. An examina­
tion of book vi, ch apter xxv reveals that what Locke, in
'original of governm ent is actually, according to Acosta,
'
.
f Aco�tat op. cit.) bk. l, X:X'f (vol. i, p. 70).
1 Treatise:, II, sec. 101 (cmphafis supplied).
toi THE STATE O F NATURE AND THE LAW OF N A T U R E
Indians without law, without King, and without any cer­
taine place of abode, . . . [who] go in troupes like savage
beasts'.' Furthermore, the 'comminalties', or second stage
(which is the only stage to which Locke explicitly refers),
far from being constituted, as Locke suggests, by the de­
liberation and decision of the entire community of men
'freely acting in the choice of their governors and forms of
government' are in fact 'framed by the industrie and wise­
dome of some amongst them' ;2 or as Acosta puts it in the
earlier portion of his history, 'some men excelling others in
force and wit, began in time to rule and domineere . . .'.3
Third, the statements of Acosta concerning the condition of
these primitive men are corroborated in detail in the tract
by Garcilaso de la Vega, the only other work on the
Americas Locke sees fit to refer to. Indeed, Garcilaso de l a
Vega's account of the 'Cheriquanas', as the quote above
calls them, is as striking as that of Acosta, for he says:
These are the people who arc most difficult to convert to the service
of the Spaniards, and to the Christian religion; for as they never had
any religion, they are irrational, and sc-.trcely have any words to make
themselves intelligible lo each ocher. Sothey live likcanimalsof different
species, without joining or communicating with each ocher.•
To recur, then, to the two questions raised just above. In
the first place, it is evident that Locke's artful use of Acosta
is exactly parallel to his artful use of Justin. In both cases,
Locke, with 'amazing confidence'-to use Josiah Tucker's
phrase-cites historic:il authority for his proposition that all
men originally left an idyllic state of nature by choice, and
did so by means of the deliberate, conscious decision to
come together to form civil society. In fact, the historical
evidence shows, as Locke could not help but know, that in
the one case a ruthless and cunning Spartan leads his des­
perate band to conquer a city, and in the other, a group of
' Aco$U, op. ciL, bL "i, .iix (vot. ii, p. 417). , lbid.
J Ibid.. bk. i, XIV (•ol. i, P· 71).
• Vcp, op. cit. (Note 0, p. 110), bk. i, ,ai (T'Ol. i, p. S'4)· An4 c.f. bk. t'ii, X\ii (\lol. ii-. Pi>'·
•1+-7).
O N THE REALITY OF THE STATE OF NATURE 103
animal-like men, destitute of practically everything needful
for their existence, are herded into an exceedingly crude
form of tribal society by those among them possessed of the
greatest force and cunning. V.7hat Locke in fact points to,
then, is this: The passions of ambition and fear co-operate
to extract men from their truly natural condition, only to
place them, as in the latter case to which he refers, under
despotic masters.• Still, this may be a step on the way to a
more stable and secure order, and to the development of
those 'arts and inventions' which conduce to 'safety, ease
and plenty'. Second, Locke's use of Acosta i n chapter viii
is also parallel to his use of Garcilaso de la Vega's story of
the two men on a desert island in chapter ii. In both cases
the works are cited in the context of a description of the state
of nattue as one of peace and harmony; in both cases, there­
fore, the citations, taken at face value, conceal the fact that
the men in question actually are depicted as in a most
wretched condition ; and in both cases it is only by deliberately
looking at the originals that one sees this is the case, and
understands what Locke is really pointing to. Furthermore,
both Vega and Acosta, who derive their principles from
scholastic Aristotelianism, consider the men in question to
be in the most unnatural of conditions; but Locke, by giving
a radically different interpretation to what man possesses by
nature, is actually directing the reader to historical examples
of what he understands to be the natural condition-or, to
be more precise, to such examples as historical records con­
tain, for Locke argues, in effect, that in the very beginning,
no 'letters' could have existed anywhere by which to provide
a record of the prevalent conditions. In this sense, it is true
that mankind in the mere state of nature is an extrapolation
on his part, for the lack of such a record is intrinsic to man's
condition at that stage; but it is an extrapolation which would
I er. Piette Bayle, (L.wtJ DN<NtJ "' M' p,,,,, B•Jlt (La IUye, 17•1-J•). iii. JsS.
Ba)'le, a
i a letl<r to • Mr. Minu1oli (•+ S<pL 1693), say1 Locke is 'un des plus proforu!>
M&.apbyticicntdc cc aietlc . . .'. 1'1e continuea ! •Je l'si v(J ici (Hollmd) pcnbnt le rCgne du
Roi JACVt:Ui la R�o1utiqn le rcmen• (_n Anglc.cerre ob a dt fort COtltcilL. Jn April r704
Bayle a.1kcd Pierre Coa-lc 10 ltturc Locke ofhit •rc1pttt1'. �c !ErJ'l..,.�s, i•. 696, 8.;.1.
104 TIIE STATE OF NATURE AND THE I.AW OF NATURE CONCLUSION 105

go back only one step more from the men described by doctrine, whiclLis meant, at the practical level, to determine
Acosta and Vega, to a situation in which the dissociation of who has the right to the poli.tlcal power, appears to teaC:h
man by nature is as complete as would still permit the bare that all political societies have begun with the contract of
continuation of the species. m_en fully cognizant of th� '!.ofnatu_re,jn fact, when Locke
speaks of the entry into political society, he speaks�senti ally
Conclusion of the entry in principle into the properl y conceived and
properfy constructed political society. As the succeeding
The state of nature, as Locke ultimately conceives of it, is in chapters are meant to show, such a political society wi l l, in
fact and 'unavoidably' one of 'want, rapine, and force', in Locke's view, necessarily settle men's consciences because
which men are barely distinguishable from the brutes of the it will be based on a true appreciation of what man is like by
forest.1 Only by fleeing the na�ral condition, in which �ature: a creature whose natural desires are prim�, but
eveqthiog is 'in commQ!!' (including the absolute riglltto wlio, o ecause of nature's niggardliness in providing means
do everything needful in order to secure a miserable, bare for the gratification of those desires, is constantly compelled
existence), is there a reasonable hope of gratifying those to seek, through J1is own labour ) the security_, freedom, and
naturally implanted and constantly operative aesires for
security, freedom, and plenty. But the actual p as
sag efrom
comforts· which are essentlarto his being. )
the state of mere nature into the first, crude form of society
took place in the distant and dim past, and could not possibly
have been achieved on the basis of a literal contract con­
cluded because of an explicit recognition of the principles of
the law of nature, for neither that law nor the human faculties
necessary to elaborate and communicate it are truly actual
in the mere state of nature. It is no wonder, therefore,-that
most of the laws and institutions which grow up from early
times are, in Locke's judgement, the product of superstition,
passion, and folly.
Locke, on the other hand, has the enormous advantage of
living within a political society, even if it is, from the view­
point of his fully developed teaching, an imperfectly con­
structed society. He can, therefore, engage in the reflection
and investigation-the 'study' as he sometimes calls it­
necessary to the elucidation of the proper principles for the
construction of political society. It is this reflection and
investigation which finally lead him to his basic premise:
the natural condition of man---or to be more exact, what he
comes to conceive of as the natural condition. Although his
• Sec '"P'"t Cb. I• p. 6. n. +

3 of the society and, as far as will consist wilh the public good,
THE S O V E R E I G N C O M M O N­
W E A L T H: I T S G E N E S I S
AND POWERS
C1v1J. soCI ETY', says Locke, is 'a state of peace amongst
those who are of it, from whom the state of war is excluded
by the umpirage which they have provided in their legisla­
tive for the ending all differences that may arise amongst any
of them. . . '.1 But civil society, or the 'commonwealth'2 as
Locke chooses to call it in a number of passages, and the
state of peace which it produces, are most emphatically not
the natural condition among men. On the contrary, men are,
according to Locke, literally 'drive11' into civil society,
which i s a 'sanctuary' from the anarchic condition of the
state of nature ;3 thus they do not come into civil society
because they arc-as they were for Aristotle for example­
naturally social and political beings. The theoretical problem
Locke has to solve, then, is how to construct or 'make' the
commonwealth (and civil society is, for Locke, the contri­
vance-perhaps the supreme contrivance-of human labour
and industry) so as to reconcile the individual's natural and
primary right to the protection of his life, limbs, liberty, and
property with the objective conditions necessary to achieve
the institutionalization of that right. Or, to use the language
I TT4alisti, n' S«. 1.1 i.
2 Lcxkc't Cctbition of •commonwulth' if given in the &tt»ttl Tr,dti�, sec.
133, • y u an
i depeadt:ot community "·hich tht l. tines tigni� by the word ci<vit•.s :. Cf. Hob�,
n a
Levia1Aat, Introduction (s): 1For br an it creactJ that g,rt1t L&\'?ATM.A.' called a CoM>10�­
. •
\\•hichiabut an arcintial
\\'LU.T1t,or 5-rATX1 in Lacio ClnTAf., m.tn. . . '.In the First Tr�a.t�,
secs. 132-3, L-o:kc �tincuisbc1 'commonwulth0 from • mona rchy", which i-s to tay that his
definition in the St«nJ Tr�4li:1 i1 more neutral.
> lbid ..
lit f.tt, 127. Cf. Tucker, op. cit., pp. J78-9: •Mr. Loelc:'s o\\'11 rxprC$siOD is, that
men are dri"c:tt into 50Cicty-But why driTcn � A.nd who drl\"es thmi? Their own wa.ots and
fears he tells u1.'
THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH 107
of Locke himself, the problem is how political society can be
constructed 'conformable' to the 'laws of nature', 1 the 'first'
and most 'fundamental' of these laws being the 'preservation
of every person in it',2 and the second being that 'that which
makes the community and brings men out of the loose state
of nature into one politic society is the agreement which
everybody has with the rest to incorporate and act as one
body, and so be one distinct commonwealth'.J
The problem has two interrelated aspects: the internal
structuring of political society with respect to the 'umpirage'
between the individuals within the society, and second, the
proper organization and direction of the force of the political
society with respect to threats which emanate from without.
The coequal status of these two aspects of the problem is
shown from the very beginning of the Second Treatise by the
fact that Locke's definition of political power distinguishes
between two distinct spheres of operation of the political
power : the making and executing of laws within political
society, and the 'employing' of the 'force of the community'
in the 'defence of the commonwealth from foreign injury'.4
The present chapter is concerned with both aspects of this
problem in so far as they refer to the source and organization
of governmental powers and to the jurisdiction of the com­
monwealth. In Chapter 5, the overall impact of Locke's
conception of the state of nature on the character of political
society will be treated.
OJ 'SO'Uereignty' and the 'Supreme Power'
The initial question, to put it quite simply, is whether­
and if so' to what extent and in what sense-Locke con-
ceives of the 'commonwealth' as a 'sovereign' entity, or as
1 Triotiics, [, t«· 9:.... i Ibid. D, sec. t J4 {emphatiJ supplied).
' Ibid. II, sec. 211 (<mpb11i1 supplied).
• lbid. IJ, scc. 3. Cf. Hob'btt, l�1arAa11, pt. H, ch. 17 (11:?.): "The only way LO «ett scch
a commoa: flO"'"Cr, at may be abl'- to defend them from thr in•aciou of foreigner$, u.d the
injuries ofo:ic anotlKr , . , it, to confer all their powrr and 'ttC'Ogih upon one nu.o, or upon
one aucm bly ofmen. . . '.
 108 THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
possessed of 'sovereignty'. The answer is of decisive im­
portance with respect to the status of a commonwealth's
external relationships and the kind of 'law' to which such
relations arc subject, not to speak of the position of the
individual vis-a-vis governmental power in a properly or­
ganized commonwealth.
It has often been argued that Locke either rejects the
theory of sovereignty altogether, or that his conception of it
differs radically from that of Ilobbes. For example, Hobbes
is spoken of as 'the first writer to grasp the full importance
of the idea of Sovereignty', but the same commentator says
that 'Locke, in fact, had no theory of Sovereignty at all.
The true sovereign of Civil Government is the individual'.�
Mr. J. N. Figgis went so far as to say that 'Locke's treatise
is expressly directed against the notion that there is any
sovereign power in the statc'.2 Other writers refer to the
'people' as 'sovereign', or to an alleged distinction in his
work between a 'lcgal' as compared to a 'political' sovereignty.J
But Locke himself, at one point in the course of his argu­
ment concerning the foundation of political society, expressly
refers to the commonwealth as 'the mighty leviathan'.4 It is
certainly worth considering whether it is merely accidental
that he should, in this context, use the very term by which
Hobbes had described the sovereign state.
An initial difficulty i11 interpreting Locke's conception of
the organization and limits of the power of the common­
wealth arises from the difference in terminology which is to
be found in the Second as compared to the First Treatise.
In the First Treatise, where Locke attacks Filmer's version
of the divine right of kings, Locke himself constantly em­
ploys the terms 'sovereign' and 'sovereignty'. Indeed, of the
eleven chapter titles in the F irst Treatise, five contain the
I c. E. v�ugbn, $111Ji11 ,,, tltc JliJtOf")' ofPd.itiul PAt1D�p/tJ Before ontl ./Jftrr 1&1'.tlt:lfl
· c:nd of ice. +; but that particu4r pasta&C' i• atiU a rcitrcnce to Filma's contention about the
(�la.oc.btste.r: At the Uni•en.ity Prcu. 191s), i. SS an.cl 115.
s J. N. Figgit, TJ.e Divi1'4 RitAt efK'"I.' (uid ed.i Ctmbndgc: Uni•crsity Pren, 1922),
P· z.µ.
J T. H. Or�, Uchlr11oe1A1 Pr�i,W efPcliticol Oblitat�n (Loo.don: Loogmi.n.s, Gr«0
& Co., 19+1), p. 76; Cough, op. c
i t., pp. 36-37, 41.
• TrtotU1s, 11, ICC. 98.
'
OF 'SOVEREIGNTY' A N D THE 'SUPREME POWER' 109
term 'sovereignty', and one the term 'sovereign'.1 But since
an examination of the text shows that what Locke means by
these terms generally is the absolute, arbitrary dominion
alleged by Filmer to have been possessed by Adam and all
subsequent sovereigns, and since Locke attacks this con­
ce�tion of the origin and extent of political power, it might
easily appear that he also rejects the idea of sovereignty as
such. Moreover, this impression seems to be confirmed by
the notable fact that Locke almost completely avoids the
use of the terms 'sovereign' and 'sovereignty' in the Second
Treatise, where his own doctrine is most fully developed.
Instead, when he refers to the locus of political power, he
calls it the 'supreme power', and by this he generally means
'the legislative power'.2 The question is, however, whether in
so doing he does not merely shift to a more neutral term­
one which eliminates the connotations of absolute, arbitrary
power, and especially the power of an absolute monarch.
But it docs not necessarily follow that he rejects the central
idea of 'sovereignty'-that is1 that there is a quality or
characteristic of political society by which, it is held, the
government has the exclusive power and right to command
and execute.
The most direct, although admittedly incomplete, evidence
of Locke's adherence to the explicit idea of 'sovereignty'
is to be found in chapter xi of the First Treatise. The con­
text is Locke's critique of Filmer's 'history out of Scripture'.
Filmer, in support of his patriarchal thesis, says : '. . . acts
ofjudging in capital crimes, of making war, and concluding
peace, are the chiefest marks of sovereignty that are found
in any monarch'.3 llis evidence on this point consists of
1 See the titles of cht. iii-viii of the Flrsl Trt1Iliu; and cf. the title! of the ch.aptcn of
the &CCttrl Trtarnt. The term 'toYcrcigoty' s i occa$ion.allyuscdi.nthcSt'a.-:J Tru1�,asatthe
nature of t0vcrcisn po"·tt. Thie 1icni6unt point i1 Wt Locke's thematic diSCU!si:on.s of
the nature of the ci.,.il powtr do not use the wm.
� Trt3tirtt, ll, Jte'S. 131, 13:, 1 34• 135, I ;6, 138, 149, I 50-3. For a J.ignificant case of
tbc ju1taposition of the tum '•OTttei&tlCy• with Locke'• O\\'Q u:rm of 'suprC!!Dc power', tte
il:id. I, st-c. 131.
J P<f/'l'i�r.lt.a a1u/01AtrP�lirltolIFU'AIefSir R,kr, Filmtr,p. sS; Tr,1111'41J I,$(.IC.$. I 19-3 t.
110 THE S O V E R E ! C N COMMONWEALTH
certain actions by biblical figures, such as Judah and
Abraham. But Locke in his critique, although he denies that
the evidence proves Filmer's specific thesis, incidentally
admits the central point with regard to 'sovereignty', when
he says :
The pronouncing of sentence of death is not a certain mark of
sovereignty, but usually the office of inferior magistrates. The power
of making laws of life and death is indeed a mark of sovereignty, but
pronouncing the sentence according to those laws may be done by
others. . . .•
And a bit farther on:
'But making war and peace are marks ofsovereignty' (says Filmer).
Let it be so in politic societies . . . . War and peace cannot be made
foe politic societies but by the supreme power of such societies; be­
cause, war and peace giving a different motion to the force of such a
politic body, none can make war or peace but that which has the
direction of the force of the whole body, and that in politic societies is
only the supreme power.•
An examination of these two passages, and a comparison of
them with Locke's definition of political power in the
Second Treatise, shows that in both Treatises the power to
make and execute laws which cany the death penalty, and
the power to make war and peace are singled out as com­
prising the essence of political action. The only difference is
that eventually, in the Second Treatise, as \ve have already
noted, Locke generally shifts to the use of terms such as 'the
supreme power' or 'the legislative power' to designate what
in the F
irst Treatise he clearly refers to as 'sovereignty'. But
even in the Second Treatise, on occasion, Locke implicitly
refers to it as 'sovereignty'. An example is to be found in
chapter vii, in the context of a discussion of the difference
between 'political' and 'conjugal' society. Locke says that
'absolute sovereignty and power of life and death' is 'not
necessary' to the 'ends' of 'conjugal society'.3 The implica-
OF "SOVERE!CNTY' AND THE 'SUPREME POWER' iu
tion plainly is, then, that such sovereign power is necessary
to the 'ends' of 'political society'. This is not equivalent,
of course, to a detailed statement and resolution of the
problem, any more than are the rather bald yet unmistakable
statements of the First Tre111ise. \Vhat is wanted, then, is an
argument by Locke in which the powers vested i n political
society are related to the ends which such a society is meant
to achieve. The core of that argument, like others i n the
Treatises, is not altogether easy to disengage ; it is scattered
in various places, and interwoven with much that is essen­
tially rhetorical in nature.
The Sovereign Power as a Construct
The rather abstract and unreal quality of Locke's descrip­
tion of the beginning of political society by a so-called
'social contract' has repeatedly been noticed and just as
-
repeatedly been criticized, above all on the grounds that it
reveals Locke's lack of appreciation for historical and anthro­
pological facts. But as I have shown in the preceding chapter,
such criticism confounds Locke's ostensible with his real
meaning. The philosophical and theological orthodoxy of his
period hardly permitted a straightforward account of the
literal origins as Locke really understood them, and there is
even a question whether his veiling of that conception is not
meant, in itself, to serve a political purpose by providing a
useful teaching for general dissemination. In any case, the
account of the beginnings had, from Locke's point of view,
to appear to be historically consonant with---0r at least not
flagrantly in contradiction to-the kind of teaching which
was then eminently respectable, such as that of Hooker,
based as it is on a synthesis of the Bible and Aristotle.
On the other hand, I think it is true to say, as many
have, that Locke's explicit description of the founding and
structure of political society has a strong hypothetical
element-it is as if he were saying: 'Given my particular
analysis of the ends of human activity in general, what are
112 T H E SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
the specific conditions under which those ends would be
most effectively realized ? \¥hat are the irreducible powers
which must belong to the political society if those ends are
to be secured ? And how are such powers to be structured?'
I also think, however, that the reason for the hypothetical
quality of Locke's argument is imperfectly understood, for
I believe that his method results from a dual conception:
that the state of nature is one of anarchy, and that reason
itself begins from only the crudest and almost worthless
materials. For Locke, in other words, the principles for the
proper formation of political society arc constructs, pre­
cisely because there is no direct support for them in nature.
On the other hand, Locke's confidence in having solved the
political problem appears to me to be traceable to his con­
viction that he has erected the constructs upon the true
'givens'-such as the fact that men's actions are produced
by constantly-operative desires and passions, and the fact
that nature, as such, produces so little to gratify those desires
and passions. The problem, then, is to see the elements of
Locke's construct of political society, and how they are
rooted in the conception of the scate of nature which has
been presented in the preceding chapter.
Locke's reasoning regarding this problem may be stated
as follows. Men in the state of nature, although ignorant of
the law of nature as such and therefore guided by passions
and prejudice, are nonetheless impelled by the latter to seek
their own preservation. In fact and in right they are subject
to no superior power on earth, and although they may not be
cognizant of the principle of the right of self-preservation
as elaborated in Locke's statement of t11c law of nature, they
still possess the right to use their own natural force to secure
themselves and their little properties wherever possible ; for
says Locke, ' l n all states and conditions, the true remedy of
force without authority is to oppose force to it', and all men
in the state of natute have 'the right of war', to be used for
their own protection.1 But the natural force of a single man
1 Tr101t'se1, ll, sec&. '9• iSS· See tlso Sf'Ct. SS. z.o+.
THE SOVEREIGN POWER A S A CONSTRUCT 113
in the state of nature, though approximately equal to the
strength of other men, is small. The result of this near­
equality of force is that 'he that hath right on his side,
having ordinarily but his own single strength, hath not
force enough to defend himself from injuries, or to punish
delinquents'. 1
Now men in this condition might depend on a primitive
type of collective security, based strictly on voluntary mutual
aid. But given the essentially unsocial nature of man in the
mere state of nature, the possibility of such co-opcrati.on,
freely given, is indeed remote. What is more, such an
operation necessarily lacks cohesiveness, direction, and con­
tinuity since every man still retains his indefeasible right
to act on his own, to judge in his own case, and to refuse to
follow the orders of any others. \Vhat men really need, there­
fore, is a permanently organized collective or united force,
possessing ovenvhelming power and operating under unified
direction; for only such a force can effectively protect the
individual and his property from the invasion of others.
However, the creation of such a force would, in itself, pose a
critical problem. In the state of nature, the 'inconveniences'
which result from the lack of known laws, judges, and
executioners arc indeed desperate; but at least men in that
state 'had a liberty to defend their right against the injuries
of others and were upon equal terms of force to maintain
it. . .'.1 On the other band, the creation of a united force, under
unified command, makes it possible for whoever controls that
force to bring it to bear on individuals or groups merely to
gratify his own pleasure or will. A man, says Locke, is
. . . in a much worse condition who is exposccl to the arbitrary power of
one man who has the command of 100,000, than he that s i cx-posccl to
the arbitrary power of 100,000 single men, nobody being secure that
his will, who has such a command, is better than that of other men,
though his force be 100,000 times stronger.J
Thus a grave difficulty is how to achieve security without
• TrtaliltJ, JJ, sec. 136.
' Ibid.
&O»
 THE S O V E R E I G N COMMONWEALTH
being arbitrarily subjected to the overwhelming power which
' is necessary to produce it.
1
The resolution of this problem is symbolized by the
social contract, or to be more precise, since Locke never
actually uses that expression, 'the original compact', by
which a group of men 'puts an end to the state of nature'
through an agreement 'to enter into one community and
make one body politic'. 1 This 'compact' is 'original' not in
the historical sense, but in the sense that it specifies the
minimal conditions under which a legitimate political society
originates and may expect to continue in being. However,
the resolution of the problem is not without its own 'in­
conveniences' ; on the contrary, as we shall see presently,
Locke recognizes the fact that even the best resolution may
be achieved only at a certain price.
The most general condition which Locke specifies as
integral to the proper origin of political society is, of course,
that those who are to make up the political society must con­
sent to its establishment. This condition arises directly from
the primacy of the desire for, and right to, self-preservation;
for men may not be required to grant anything which, on the
face of it, is contrary to that basic right. The difficulty is,
however, whether political society can ever be founded on
the basis of an absolute guarantee to every individual of the
protection of that right in all cases, and if not, in what sense
it is proper to speak of obtaining the 'consent' of every man
to the establishment of political society. Locke's answer is,
in general, that such a guarantee is impossible and yet, that
political society, properly constructed, is the only rational
alternative to the anarchy of the state of nature, for such a
political society promises a much higher degree of protection
and a relatively greater guarantee against the abuse of power
than does the condition in the state of nature. To see that
this is the essence of Locke's resolution of the political
problem, we must consider more particularly the various
aspects of his conception of the 'original compact'.
1 r,,..1i.c11, 11, sea. ,.._, 97.
THE SOVEREIGN POWER AS A CONSTRUCT rt5
In the first place, for Locke there is but one compact,
general and all-inclusive, which necessarily contains an
assent to every condition proper to the functioning of
political society. As [..ocke puts it in one place, 'by barely
agreeing to unite into one political society, which is all the
compact that is, or needs to be, between the individuals that
enter into or make up a commonwealth' men must be 'under­
stood' to agree to certain fundamental propositions con­
cerning the structure and operation of government.' There
is, therefore, no distinction in the compact between the
'making' of 'society' and the 'making' of the 'political'
dimension of society; on the contrary, Locke constantly
speaks, as he does in the place just quoted, of the 'agreement'
to make 'one body politic under one government', or 'one
distinct commonwealth', or 'one politic.'ll society' as con­
stituting the very essence of the original compact.2 This is
to say that the 'political' is essentially primary with respect
to the 'social', or that the latter is subsumed under the former
and is the product of it, a proposition which is by no means
surprising once it is realized that Locke in fact denies the
natural sociability of man.
The character of the compact is reflected, secondly, in the
explicit and repeated contention by Locke that 'there and
there only is political society where every one of the members
hath quitted his natural power, resigned it up into the hands
of the community. . . ';3 or in another version, that political
society arises only when 'men give up all their natural power
'
to the society which they enter into. . . .4 At this point,
. . . oil private judgment of tvtry particular member being e.xcludcd,
the community comes to be umpire by settled standing rules, indifferent
i
and the same to all parties, and by men having authorty from the
community for the execution of those rules, decides oil differences that
may happen between any members of that society concerning any
matter of right, and punishes th06e offences which any member bath
committed against the society with such penalties as the law has
1 Trutis<1, ll, t«. 99 (<mphasis 1uppl1<<!).
• Ibid. Il,1CC1. 'i• 89, 95, 96, 97, 99, :1 1. ' Ibid. II, soc. 87.
• llid. II, 0<e. 136 (cmphuiuupplicd). Sec abo seu. SS, 117, r3r.
116 TUE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
established; whereby it is easy to discern who are, and who are not, in
political society together. Those who are united into one body o:zd
have a common established law and judicature to appeal to, with
authority to decide controversies between them and punish offenders,
are in civil society one with another; but those who have no such
common appeal, I mean on earth, are still in the state of nature. . . .'
Such a passage could hardly be more emphatic in i nsisting
upon the interdependent propositions that 'society' is equiva­
lent to the existence of a political order, and that it can be
obtained only by the complete surrender of the individual's
natural powers of judgi ng and executing to the centralized
direction of a 'government', at least in all matters which are
capable of bei ng brought under general laws. The alterna­
tive, says Locke, is to leave every man with the same freedom
he had in the state of nature ; and then, 'what appearance
\
would there be of any compact ? What new engagement if
d
he were no farther tied by any de rees of the society than he
himself thought fit and did actually consent to ?'2
\In the third place, men necessarily also agree that the will
of the majority, as exem plified in the operations and decisions
of the legislative power, must be taken for the will of the
entire society; individual men must, therefore, construe the
will of the supreme power as their will, for it is they who
have agreed to create it. This point depends upon Locke's
contention that, in the general agreement to 'make one body
politic' men all agreed, in principle, that it 'should actor con­
tinue one body, one community' ; but, he continues, 'it being
necessary to that w hich is one body to move one way, it is
necessary the body should move that way whither the greater
force carries it, which is the consent of the majority. . .'.J
This passage, which occurs in the context of Locke's
curiously brief argument concerning the beginning of poli­
tical societies,• is striking not only because of the emphatic
' Trutiur, 11, S<C. 87 (cm�•supplied). t lbiJ. !l,S«. 97.
• Ibid. IT, sc:e. 96.
4 Cb.. \'iii (�ioto t�o main paru: sea. 9S-99• "'hie-hinclude the trgument; wd $CCti0t1.s:
100-z.1, which include Lock.e'• «:ply to two ·object.ions' which may be made to it. It s i in
the latter cont.ext th�t the "c'Jamplet' and th� quolatiou frotn AcoJt.a., ueatcd in Ch. '2 ofthis
'tudy, arc lo be found.
THE SOVEREIGN POWER AS A CONSTRUCT 117
degree to which the individual's judgement is subordinated
to that of the majori ty, but perhaps even more so because of
the ter ms in which I.ocke speaks : it is as though he were
i ng the 'motion' of political society to the 'motion'
compar
of an artifici al body, in which the direction of movement
of the body is simply the resultant of the field of interact­
ing forces. Nor is this by any means the only place in which
he uses such terms to refer to political society, which s i
to say that his use of them here is hardly accidental. For
example, in the First Treatise, there is a revealin g passage
-already quoted-in which Locke speaks of the 'power of
war and peace'. A re-examination of that passage in relation
to the present argument shows that Locke speaks there in
identical terms:
. . . war and peace giving a dijftrmt motio11 to tht forct of such a body
politic, none can make war or peace but that which has the directian
of the f"ce of the whole body, and that in politic societies is only the
supreme power.'
Other examples are to be found in passages where he speaks
of 'the force of the community', or 'the whole power of the
com munity ', or the 'whole strength' of the society, as being
'directed' by the 'supreme power ', which necessarily repre­
sents the 'wiU of the society' .2
The idea of a central, organiz.ing 'force' to give 'direction'
to this peculiar type of 'body' also appears in a passage in
which Locke striki ngly refers to the 'legislative' power in
these terms :
This is thesoul that gives form, life,and unity to the commonwealth;
from hence the several members have their mutual influence,
sympathy and connexion; and, therefore, when the legislative is
broken or dissolved, dissolution and death follows; for the essence and
union of the society consisting in having one will, the legislative, when
once established by the majority, has the declaring and, as it were,
keeping of that will.>
r Truti•u, l, ...-. 131 (anph••il supplied).
.i Ibid. n, KCS. SB, 89, 96, 130, I JI, I J�. '34-t I ]St I 19, '4-1· r+s. 148, 1so, I 51, 155.
17:.' I
l Ibld. JI, tee. 212. CC. the ttrikiogly jimilJr ph.rasoo1ogy of 110�1, Uviatha.n, lntroduc.
118 T H E SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
In still another passage, shortly after this one, Locke states
that the 'laws', by their 'execution', are meant to be
. . . the bonds of the society, co
keep every part of the body politic in
its due place and function. When that totally ceases, the government
visibly ceases, and the people become a confused mulcitude, without
order or connexion.•
In these passages, 1Locke's conception of the body politic
as an artificial body clearly is linked to the proposition that
the ordering of the various 'parts' of that body depends upon
the 'execution' of the laws. This emphasis on the coercive
aspect of political society is repeated and reinforced, further­
more, in a number of other contexts in the Trearises. Locke's
definition of political power, for example, includes, as has
been previously noted, not just the right to make laws, but
the right to make laws 'with penalties of death and, con­
sequently, all less penalties for the regulating and preserving
of property'. In his analysis of the rights of man in a state of
nature, in his statement of the necessity of transferring all
natural powers to the political society, and in his description
of the operation of political society, great importance is
attached to the 'power to punish transgressors', and Locke
repeatedly says, as we have noted, that this power includes
the right to inflict the death penalty.2 Since his general rule
is that 'nothing being necessary to any society that is not
necessary to the end for which it is made',3 Locke must
mean that the end of securing men and their property
necessarily includes such a power, or that restraint is not
likely to be effected �ithout the ultimate sanction of the
ultimate punishment. Jindeed, in the central passage of
chapter ix of the Firs/ Treatise, Locke summarizes this
characteristic of the politica! order when he says that al­
though it is true the magistrate possesses his power only to
tion (S) � '.For by art h created t.h:at great L.t-VIATUAN �lied a CoM�<ONWtALTll, or STA1"11
ln which the u,v,r1;zn1y it an artlfici31l :oul. as giving life and motion to the whole bo<ly. . . '.
• • •
For th.it artitlci:i.1 body. 'concord' is 'he<1lth•, and •civil ,var' i& 'dctth'.
I Trtatiu1, tr, ICC. -i19.
s S'tc 1upra, Ch. i, pp. 8:-84. 1 Tr1ati11s, 11, acc. S3.
TIIE SOVEREIGN POWER AS A CONSTRUCT
achieve the common good, yet it is also true that the 'magis­
trate's sword' is 'for a "terror to evil doers", and by that
terror to enforce men to observe the positive laws of the
society made conformable to the laws of nature for the public
good, i.e., the good of every particular member of that
society, as far as by common rules it can be provided for. . . '.1
The same general point is to be discerned in his summary
treatment of paternal, political, and despotical power, in
chapter xv of the Second Treatise. Locke's argument there is
that pol itical power is really a mean between two extremes.
Paternal power is a natural power, given to parents 'for the
benefit of their children during their minority', and therefore
need not include the power of 'life and dcath'.1 Despotical
power, on the other hand, is an 'absolute, arbitrary power'
over those who make 'use of the force of war' to secure their
'unjust ends', and the 'lord', in this case, has as much
power-and the need to employ it i n order to retain control
-as over wild beasts.3 In political society, however, the end
requires a power which is in between; it is neither so lenient
as paternal power nor so extreme as despotic power, but
rather 'a power to make laws, and annex such penalties to
them as may tend to the preservation of the whole, by cutting
off rlzose parts, and those only, which are so corrupt that they
threaten the sound and healthy, without which no severity is
lawful'.4 Thus the right of the government to employ
'punishment', 'terror', and 'severity', are understood in the
original compact-indeed are provided for by it, if political
society is to continue to be.
Nor is this all; for a fourth condition of the compact is
that men not only transfer their power to execute the law of
nature, but they all agree to 'engage' their own 'natural
force' in the 'execution' of the laws made by the political
society, and in the prosecution of actions decided upon by
• Trtathes, 1, !ec. 9z.. The phrase 'terror to evil doer•' is Lhc clo1cst Locke comes to
actually quotlng 1 traditional New Testament passage concerning tile power of go,.·ern·
mc.nt. er. Rom. i. i J; I v�c. H. 14. Rut, a!I the argument or Cb. � 1111.s fhOYi'D, Locke gi\'CI an
cs1cotia.Uy 1c1;ular lnterpre,itlon co the civil power. 1 Trt4tis11, 11. 1ec1. 170, 17J·
• Ibid. II, 1ec. 17>. • Ibid. 11, 1cc. 17 c (cmpb-.iHupplicd).
 THE S O V E R E I G N COMMONWEALTH
the government with respect to 'injuries from without'. In
both cases, the government may legitimately 'employ alt the
force of all the members when there shall be need'; 1 and
this, says Locke, everyone must agree to: it 'is not only
necessary, bu�just, since the other members of the society
do the like'.2 The absolute quality of this power of the
government is expressly stated by Locke in a remarkable
passage in chapter xi ('Of the Extent of the Legislative
Power'). The context there is a statement of the degree to
which the legislative power is limited with respect to a man's
property; but then Locke, to make his point clear, argues as
follows :
And to let us see that even absolute power, wlurt it it mctssary, si
not arbitrary by being absolute, but is still limited by that reason and
confined to those ends which required it in some cases to be absolute,
we need look no f.irthcr than the common practice ofmartial discipline;
for the preservation of the army, and in it of the whole common­
wealth, requires an absolute obedience to the command of every
superior officer, and it is justly death to disobey or dispute the most
dangerous or unreaso n.�ble of them. . . . Because such a blind obedience
is necessary to that end for which the commander has his power, viz..,
the preservation of the rest. . . .3
In short, the individual's right to self-preservation-although
certainly not his desire for it, as is reflected in the extreme
terms in which Locke feels it is necessary for the power of
the military commander to be stated-is necessaril y ab­
sorbed by and subordinated to the commonwealth's right to
self-preservation. To a possible objection that he thus con­
tradicts his principle ofthe primacy of the right of individual
self-preservation, Locke might reply that this right is almost
wholly without a guarantee in the mere state of nature. But
in a properly constituted political society, in spite of the
liability which is forcefully stated in the passage above, there
is a much greater probability of its guarantee, even though
this will not be true in literally every case. I-Ience, the condi-
' Trt�tisrs, U, uc.s.. IS, 130 (cmpbasi1 1upplied).
' lbi<!. ll, oec. 130. ' lbid. 11, •«. 139 (<111pbuistupplicd).
T H E SOVEREIGN POWER AS A CONSTRUCT tzl
tion attached is a legitimate one, from Locke's point of
view. Furthermore, Locke is careful to q alify his statements, u
so as to indicate the conditional or hypothetical quality of the
actualization of the rights of nature as he understands them.
The law of nature does not declare that all men are to be
preserved, but only that men are to be preserved 'as much
as possible',1 and what is possible in this respect will vary
enormously with conditions. Similarly, the distinguishing
mark of a good political society is not chat it can preserve
each and every member, for that would be impossible, but
only that 'the first and fundamental natural law which is to
govern even the legislative itself is the preservation of the
Jociety and, as far as will consist with the public good, of
every person in it', or that the 'fundamental law of nature and
government' is that 'as much as may be, all the members of
the society are to be preserved . . .'.2 In this respect the
h
commonwealth is indeed 't e mighty leviathan', in which
the 'public good' requires the subordination of the strictly
private goods of those individuals who may be called upon to
preserve its very being.
The fifth and final condition of the compact is that any
such sacrifices must in fact be truly necessary to the 'pre­
servation of the rest', or in other words, ihat the general
object of political society is indeed the protection of the lives,
liberties, and properties of the governed, and not the aggran­
dizement of those who govern. The supreme power of the
commonwealth being but 'the joint power of every member
of the society given up to that person or assembly which is
legislator, it can be no more than those persons had in a
state of nature',3 and therefore cannot be an arbitrary power
over the life, liberty, or possessions of the members. On the
other hand, even though there remains in 'the peop e' a l
'supreme power to remove or alter the legislative when they
find the legislative act contrary to the trust reposed in them',"
1 Trutis1.1, tt1 Jee. 16; and let: Iliif'Tll, Cb. 2., PP· 83-8+.
' Tuc1iu1, II, secs. 1J4' 1+9• 1S9 (emplu1i1 aupplied).
• Ibid. 11, t<C. I+9·
' lbid. II, = I JS·
122 THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH THE SOVEREIGN POWER AS A CONSTRUCT
this power, which amounts ultimately to the right of revolu­ concerted 'public force'. The resultant body politic is a
tion, is only a collective power :ind in no way qualifies the 'constituted commonwealth, standing upon its own basis 'I;\
required submission of the individual to the properly con­ and actin15 according to its own nature, that is, acting for the i
stituted government. As Locke says, the power of the people prescrvatton ofthe community. . .'.1 It is, in short, a sovereign
'can 11ever take place till the government be dissolved', 1 for body, the essence of which is the possession of a single will,
'the people, when the legislative is once constituted', have and of the powe� to enforce t�at will. In the next chapter we
'
no power to act as long as the government stands. . .'.2 This shall have occasion to examine the nature of the relations
does not mean that individuals totally relinguish the right between a number of such sovereign bodies.
to preserve themselves in extreme situations, such as when
set upon by a robber on a secluded highway, for then 'the The Status of the Federath1e Pt7Wer
law, which was made for my preservation . . . cannot inter­
Given the sovereign character of the body politic, there is
pose to secure my life from present force, which, if lost, is
capable of no reparation' ; the law then 'permits me my own still the question of how its powers arc to be organized for
the conduct of the public business, and in particular, so far
defence and the right of war, a liberty to kill the aggressor,
as the present study is concerned, for the conduct of foreign
because the aggressor allows not time to appeal to our
relations.
common judge. . .'.3 But when such an emergency is past,
Locke distinguishes governmental power in a two-fold
the regular processes of the government take over, to punish
manner: first, according to political function, and second,
the aggressor, if he still lives, and to 'prevent future harm'.•
� owhere, however, does Locke speak of the individual's re­
according to degree of independence or autonomy. The
supreme powet in the commOh\Vealth is, ge11erally speakii1g,
�e�ti?n of a ri�ht to jud�e concerning his own preservation
1f 1t 1s a quest:Jon of resistance to the execution of properly the legislative or law-making power, for it is this power
which, as we have seen, 'gives form, life, and unity' to the
framed laws; in this case, the individual's judgement is said
whole by laying down the general rules by which the conduct
to be the same as the judgement of the legitimately consti­
of public and private affairs is to proceed, and by attaching
tuted government, and in that sense, he has 'consented' to
penalties thereto for transgressions. Or to state it more in
whatever action is taken against him: the judgements of the
terms of the sheer power function, it possesses the supreme
commonwealth are 'his own judgments, they being made by
power to 'direct how the force of the commonwealth shall be
himself or his representative'.s To sum up, then, thus far:
employed for preserving the commonwealth and the mem­
The individual's passionate acting upon the natural desire
bers of it'.Z But while stressing the ultimate supremacy of
for security leads, in the mere state of nature, to pure
the law-making power, Locke also recognizes two other
anarchy. But the creation of a central, independent power,
components of political power, the 'executive' and 'federa­
capable of providing internal umpirage and external defence,
tive'. The former comprehends 'the execution of the muni­
can result only from the combining of all individual wills and
cipal laws of the society within itself upon all that are parts
all individual natural forces into a single 'public will' and a
of it. . .'.3 It must be continual in its operations, whereas the
' Trr•tiw, ll,1«. 149(cmpbui1 supplied). • Ibid. 11,scc. 157 {cmphasiuupplicd). legislative need not be; for although most laws, and certainly
1 Ibid. 11, sec. 19· 4 Ibid. II see. zo
5 lhid. ll, se<:. 88. 5« alao sec. 94: '. CY<r'f aingl< I"""°" became rubjcct, .:i...uy.riu. most of the basic laws which continue from one generation
t
other _the m�u tnc01 to those laws v.•hi<.h he himJelf, a.s part of the lqiilati'f�, had
, •

establi>h
cd• •• • 1 Truti'us, ll, sec. '4-9· ' Ibid. 11, •«· 'H· ' Ibid. II, sec. 147.
u+ THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
to another, may be made in a relatively short time and are of
general application, they must be constantly executed. But
since the execution of the laws necessarily places the control
of the 'public force' in the hands of the executors, that man
or group of men is thereby made very powerful. To protect
society against the dangers which might result from having
both powers in the same hands, Locke says that in 'well
ordered commonwealths' the legislative and executive powers
should be in separate hands.1 The executive is therefore
responsible to the legislative power and is intended to carry
out its functions within the framework of the laws.
Finally, Locke distinguishes a separate power of govern­
ment, which he calls the 'federative power', and it is the
character of this power, and its relations with the other two,
which require a more particular examination.
The federative power is like the executive power in that it
is also said to be 'ministerial and subordinate to the legis­
lative'.2 From the viewpoint of the internal structure and
organization of political society, the operations of those who
wield the federative power are subject to the judgement of
the supreme, or law-making power. Bnt from the viewpoint
of the political society looked at as a sovereign body, the
federative power is different in one vital respect from either
the legislative or executive powers. The latter two powers
are joined together by Locke so far as their origin is con­
cerned-that is, they are derived from the consolidation of
the natural powers of individuals transferred to the political
society. But since no compact has taken place further than
among the members of the given commonwealth, the body
politic, which is now a new kind of body, constitutes one
'whole community' and is 'one body in the state of uature in
respect of all other states or persons out of its community'.J
Since the nature of the sovereign commonwealth is to act for
its own preservation, it must be in possession, as of right, of
a power to act vis-a-vis other commonwealths. This is
t
shown by the significant fact tha Locke says of the federa-
• Ibid. II, sec. 1 s3. ' Ibid. ll, •cc. 145.
TUE STATUS OF THE FEDERATIVE POWER 125
tive power, and only this one, that it may be called 'natural,
because it is that which answers to the power every man
naturally had before he entered into society. . 1 In other
.'.
.
words, JUSt as there is an inalienable right in each man in the
state of nature to take actions to preserve himself and punish
others, so there is in each commonwealth an inalienable
right to act in this manner with respect to all persons and
bodies ou�side itself. 'Hence it is,' says Locke, 'that the
controversies that happen between any man of the society
wit� those that are out of it are managed by the public, and
.
�n tnjury don7 to a i;i7mber of their body engages the whole
m. the reparation of it .2 In short, the federative power 'con­
tains the power of war and peace, leagues and alliances, and
all transactions with all persons and communities without the
commonwealth. . .'.J
Perhaps one ofthe most significant implications of Locke's
concept of political society as a sovereign body, possessed of
a natural right to conduct foreign relations, is the extent to
which the prestige and power of the entire society thereby
become involved, on principle, in matters which, under a
more traditional view, were generally conlined to the atten­
tion of courts and diplomats. For in Locke's conception of
society, an injury done to a single citizen by a foreigner or
another government is, in effect, an injury done to the
commonwealth as such, because it is only the 'public' power
which can properly manage such affairs and because, in
addition, that power is itself the product of a compact
among all the citizens, formed only to secure the good of the
governed. Furthermore, the public power legitimately may
command all the force of all the citizens in obtaining repara­
tion, or in prosecuting its case against another government,
which is to say that that which the public power may by right
do tends to become the standard for what ought to be done.
Thus the involvement on principle of the entire co1nmunity
in the issues of prestige and power vis-a-vis other nations is
founded on a theoretical base; and though nationalism in its
1 Tr1�1it11, JI, sec. •+S· • lbiJ. • Jbid. Tl, f.CC. J46.
 T!IE SOVERETGN COMMONWEALTH
historical development since the seventeenth century cer­
tainly is much more than the resultant of such theories, it is
nonetheless true that we have here the rationale of its de­
velopment, at least in the sense that the rights of all men in
a polity are now said to be intimately involved in the rights
of the public power, which, in turn, is vitally concerned with
the security and prosperity of the whole body.
As for the relationship between the federative and execu­
tive powers, Locke says that in principle they are
from each other. In theory, the former is confined to the
'management of the security and interest of the public' in its
foreign relations; whereas the latter is concerned with the
execution ofthe 'municipal laws' ofthe society. But in practice,
the two powers are necessarily exercised by the same person
(or persons) since both functions require the use of the
'public force':
Though . . the executive and federative power of every community
.
be really distinct in themselves, yet they are hardly to be separated and
placed at the same time in the hands of distinct person�; for both of
them requiring the force of the soci ety for their exercse,
i it s
i almost
impracticable to place the force of 1hc commonwealth in distinct and
not subordinate hands, or that the executive and federative power should
be placed iu persons that m.ighr act scpamtcly, whereby the force of
the public would be under different commands, which would be apt
some time or other to C."l use disorder aud ruin.'
There is, however, an important distinction between the
spheres of domestic and foreign policy with respect to the
degree of direct control which can properly be exercised by
the legislative. l t is clear, as already noted, that Locke con­
siders both the executive and federative powers to be sub­
ordinate to the legislative, and that the executive ought to be
bound by the 'antecedent, standing, positive laws' which are
laid down by the legislative.• But the exercise of the federa­
tive power is almost exclusively concerned with external
affairs. The decision as to what foreign policies are to be
1 Trtpt1l11, ll, sec:. 148 ; sec alao I,tee. 131 and 11, sec. l.f.7·
> Ibid. II, 1cc1. ••7• 1 SJ·
THE STATUS OF THE FEDERATIVE POWER 127
followed cannot therefore be b:ised to any significant extent
on those antecedent, standing laws which are to guide the
executive in domestic matters. For one thing, the legislative
power of any given political society contains no authority
whatever to lay down laws for anyone or any circumstance
not within its jurisdiction, and hence cannot exercise any
direct control over the persons and situations which are to
be dealt with by the federative power. Thus the foreign
distinct policy of the society depends to a very great extent on the
'actions and the variations of designs and interests'• of other
societies: the great 'uncertainty and variableness of human
affairs'> is nowhere more evident than in the relations
between sovereign bodies. Under these circumstances, the
legislative power, since it is usually numerous and therefore
slow, and since it is often not in session, can hardJy hope to
provide the dispatch and unity of direction which is indis­
pensable to the conduct of foreign relations. This is above all
true in the great affairs of state, such as the conduct of war,
for Locke says that war 'admits not of plurality of gover­
nors'.3 It follows that the executive-federative power-for it
is in truth a single power viewed from different aspects-must
be granted great independence in the sphere of foreign
relations.
However, Locke supplies no very precise answer to the
question of how much independence. Tn one place he says
that 'what is to be done in reference to foreigners' must
'necessarily be left to the prudence and wisdom of those'
who possess the executive-federative power, 'to be managed
by the best of their skill for the advantage of the common­
wealth'.4 But this seems to refer most directly co their dis­
cretion with respect to the kinds of actions which are to be
taken against other governments, such as whether to u�e a
blockade or resort to reprisals of a more powerful sort, m a
given instance; and in any case, Locke does not further
' Tr111tilt.t, II, sec. 147.
' Ibid. 1t,1ec. 1s6;1ccU.Ou<. 157.
J Ibid. I l, ICC. I08. 4 Ibid. IL, stt. 147.
 a8 THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
enlighten us in this context as to what he means by 'pru­
dence'.
Of slightly greater help, and more illuminating, are his
remarks concerning the 'prerogative', which at one point he
says is 'nothing but the power of doing public good without
a rule', but at a later point, 'an arbitrary power in some things
left in the prince's hand to do good, not harm to the
'
people . . . .1 This power necessarily belongs to the executive
because, on the one hand, there are many 'unforeseen and
uncertain occurrences' for which the legislative power could
never provide by any general rules, and on the other hand,
instances in which a rigid application of the law to a given
set of circumstances might actually inflict punishment un­
fairly.1 In such situations, it is fit that 'the laws themselves
should in some cases give way to the executive power,
or rather to this fundamental law of nature and government,
viz., that as much as may be, all the members of the society
are to be preserved . . .'.J Furthermore, governments may
expect that if they employ the prerogative 'in any tolerable
degree' for 'the good ofthe people and not manifestly against
it', that the people will not 'question' it, for they are 'very
seldom or never scrupulous or nice in the point'.4 On the
other hand, the people may legitimately require that the
range of the prerogative 'be defined by positive laws', and
'those only are encroachments which prejudice or hinder the
public good'.s This merely brings us back to the 'old
question' of what is for the public good, and who, in any
case, is going to judge. Locke's answer to this is quite re­
vealing; it is that
Between an executive power in being with such a prerogative, and
a legislative that depends upon his will for their convening, there can
be no judge on earth. . . . The people have no other remedy in this,as
in all other cases where they have no judge on earth, but to appeal to
heaven . . . .6
• Tr�111i1t1, 11, k'CI. 166, 110. 2 Ibid. ll,1oc. 15S.
• Ibid. n, .... , s9. • lbid. 11, sec. 161.
' Ibid. fl,•«- 163. 6 Ibid. ll, sec. t68.
THE STATUS OF Tit£ FEDERATIVE POWER
In short, the ultimate test is the appeal to the sword, and the
people can never part with the right to judge when that
appeal is necessary, above all because they cannot remove
from themselves that 'first and strongest desire'•-for self­
preservation.
Locke's analysis of the prerogative is specifically directed
to the use of that power in domestic or internal affairs. It is
evident, however, that the principle of discretion not only is
applicable to the sphere of the federative power's operations
but indeed that, according to Locke's own argument, a far
wider and greater degree of discretion is necessary in the
area of foreign relations than of domestic problems. Yct
Locke never explicitly treats of the likelihood of, nor the
remedy for, possible abuses of the federative power's dis­
cretion. Presumably, however, the ultimate remedy would
be the same as it would be if the executive attempted to
permanently dissolve the legislative body: the people have
the right of revolution. The different sphere of operation of
the federative power would seem, however, to make this
Jess likely to occur than in matters of domestic policy. For
one thing, the people, according to Locke, are rarely con­
cerned whether the discretionary power of the government
is abused in particular and isolated cases, but only whether
there is a 'long train of abuses, prevarications, and artifices"
which indicates a deliberate attempt to reduce them to
subjection, or destroy their properties. Since the actions
taken in foreign relations obviously are directed primarily
against other commonwealths, such actions presumably
would be unlikely to provoke a real crisis unless they in­
volved drastic demands upon the resources of the country,
such as heavy taxation and conscription. Even then, as was
noted above, if the nation comes to feel that such demands
are proper to the maintenance of the commonwealth's posi­
tion, they would not occasion a real revolt. It is true, of
course, that the legislative power would retain, according
to Locke, a right and responsibility of surveillance over the
• fbid. 11, o= 215.
It
qo T H E SOVEREICN COMMONWEALTH
federative power's operations, and al�o a powerful weapon
.
in the form of the taxing and app rop riation powers. But the
p lain implication of his argument is th� t so Ion� as �e
people remain convinced that 0e federative ro e is bemg
\� �
� in its oper�­
_
used for their good, they are unlikely to .mterrer
tions. As for the extent to which the federative power is
subject to external control by a 'law of nations', we shall
have occasion to see in the next two chapters.
The Basis of Territorial Sovereignty
According to the law of nature, all the world is g�ven in
common to all mankind. In particular, the land or terntory of
the world is originally perfectly in common.• How then d�es
it come to pass that any government can claun . and exerc1se
. particular portion of the earth's surface.
exclusive jurisdiction over any portion of the wo:Jd's tern­
tory ? And how is it that the rest of �he world 1s � t er�by
bound to observe the territorial sovereignty of e re1gnmg
th
government ?
Locke argues, first, that upon the establishment of sepa­
rate and independent political societies, those 'several com­
munities settled the bounds of their di stinct territories and,
by laws within themselves, regulated the properties of the
private men of their society . "' The original law of na�e
: : . government, during such enjoymcnc' as a�yone under it; whe�her this
with regard to the appropriation and possession of land 1s
replaced by the positive laws of the commonwealth. \.Vher­
ever land is left in common within the commonwealth it may
no longer be enclosed or appropriated by the mere fact of
mixing one's labour with it, for it is 'left common by com­
pact, i.e., by the law of the land, which is not to be violated'.3
Therefore, such land may be enclosed or appropriated only
by consent of all the members, which in practical terms
means the consent of the government.
But this land is now in common only in respect to the
members of that particular society or country which has
1 Tr<11ti1tJ, I, •�•. S6, S7; Jl, 1cct. 15, Jl.
• ll;id. ll, «. 45.
• ' Ibid. II,'"'· 35'
THE BASIS OF T.ERRITORIAL SOVEREIGNTY 131
established a 'joint property' in the whole domain.1 For the
original right which all men had to the l and everywhere i n
the world has been relinquished:
(ByJ . . . the leagues that have been made between several states and
kingdoms either CA'j)ressly or tacitly dii;owning all claim and right to
the land in the othen;' possessions (menJ have, by common consent,
given up their pretences to their natural common right which originally
they had to those countries, and so have, by positive agreemenr,settled
a property amongst themselves in distinct pans and parcels of the
earth. . . .•
It is signi ficant that Locke says men reciprocally give up
'their pretences' in regard to the original natural right they
had to all countries; they give it up for something which is
tangible, practical, and beneficial : the exclusive right to a
Thus it happens that each independent government
establishes a particular and exclusive jurisdiction over the
territory it occupies. \Vhoever comes within that territory
thereby comes under the jurisdiction-even though tern=
porary---of the reigning government :
And . . . every man that hath any poS!lessions or enjoyment ofany
part of the dominions of a11y government doth thereby give his tacit
consent and is as far forth obliged to obedience to the laws of that
.
his possession be of land to him and his heirs for ever, or a lcxlgmg only
for a week or whether it be barely t ravelling freely on the highway;
:
ffct, it reaches as far as the very being of anyone within the
and, in e
territories of that govcrnmcnt.3
Aliens are therefore subject to the law of the land, but that
i n no way makes them members of the society. Such sub­
mission by aliens to the laws of any country is 'only a local
protection and homage due to a�d from al� th_ose who, �ot
.
being in a state of war, come w1thm the territories bel_ongmg
to any government, to all parts whereof the force of its laws
extends'.•
1 Tr�11riit1, 11, •«. 35· ' Ibid. 11, S<C. 45.
' Ibid. II,tee:. 119. • Ibid. 11,iitt. 12.2.
132 THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
The parcelling up of certain areas of the world into
separate territories under sovereign governments still leaves,
however, vast tracts of land and water which remain in
common (or at least remained so in Locke's time). In the
first place, there are the uninhabited or sparsely populated
territories of the globe which lie 'free and unpossessed'1-
such as the hinterlands of the Americas, to which Locke so
frequently refers.• The lands there remain perfectly in
common, and in principle may be appropriated or enclosed
by anyone who cares to exert the effort to take and develop
them. They can, for instance, be acquired by any group of
men who may wish to establish a new political society, such
as political exiles, or those who voluntarily quit one common­
wealth in order to establish another in vacuis locis.J The same
would hold true for the acquisition of new territory in out­
lying areas by an already established government, as in the
case of European governments acquiring new territories in
the Americas or elsewhere. And as a matter of fact, the lands
need not be totally uninhabited in order to be subject to
acquisition. For those areas which are but nominally in­
habited (as the vast areas in the Ameticas) are considered
by Locke to be acti.1ally still 'in common'. l'..le argues that
wherever there is more land 'than the people who dwell on it do
or can make use of' it is 'waste' land and therefore still lying
'in commo1'.4 Such land i� 1aturally, according to his prin­
_ � � Although every commonwealth possesses exclusive jurisdic­
ciples, subject to appropriation by those who can and will
make use of it. The earth has indeed been given in common
to all men; but an industrious and enterprising commercial
nation has a much better claim to vacant areas-since it will
develop them-than have lazy and indifferent savages. And
once appropriated, the lands pass out of the commons of the
world a�d under the te�ritorial jurisdiction of the govern­
ment which takes possess1on.s Thus Locke not only provides,
: T�
tJ
tiuJ, 11, Jtt.1�1. � Ibid. 11, -1ecs.. 36, 43, ,.._s, 49•
Ibid. 11, S<a 115, 121. • Ibid. Il,sec. H·
s Lock
� urta.
:
lDy 'o\·as •Wt.rt of chc problem of compccitioo for thc!e aress. See, for
l he is at liberty, upon reaching the age of majority, to decide
enmple, hu : references io upanding tmplret int.hc t\mc.ricas, i)d.
b 1,ate. t30. And see ,,(r41.,;-
Ch.;, pp. 179-80.
THE BASIS OF TERRITO'R!Al. SOVEREIGNTY 1 33
in the original compact, for the principle of exclusive juris­
dictio�, b �t he also provides, in his argument on property,
_
a JUst1ficat1on for the extension of that jurisdiction.
The second area of the globe which lies in common com­
prises the oceans and the seas. To these vast extents of water
no government may rightfully lay claim, nor estabish l a
territorial sovereignty comparable to that which may be had
over unpossessed lands. For the oceans and the seas com­
prise that 'great and still remaining common of mankind',
which is and remains under the original law of nature. The
fact that the oceans remain in common means that their use
as a thoroughfare for the ships of the world is equally and
freely open to all nations. This does not mean, however, that
the products which the oceans yield may not be appropriated.
On the contrary, the original law of nature (by which labour
gives title) applies in such cases. Locke says that 'what fish
anyone catches in the ocean, . . . or what ambergris anyone
takes up here, is, by the labour that removes it out of that
common state nature left it in, made his property who takes
that pains about it'.' Whether that labour be exerted by
private men on their own behalf, or by those employed by
a government is apparently immaterial.
The Basis of Membership in the Commonwealth
tion over its territory, and though every person within that
territory is subject to the law of the land, those facts do not,
in themselves, establish the status of membership in a
particular political society. Nor do they establish the right of
the commonwealth to claim those born under its jurisdic­
tion as permanent subjects. Locke's basic principle is that
man is 'naturally free from subjection to any government,
though he be born in a place under its jurisdiction . .'.• .
Since a man is born a 'subject of no country or government'
z Jbid. II, tee. 191.
 THE SOVEREIGN COMMONWEALTH
'what government he will put himself under, what body
politic he will unite himself to . . .'. 1
This holds true even where the father is already a member
of the commonwealth wherein the son is born. The father
may permanently give up his own natural liberty, for Locke
says :
. . . he that has once, by actual agreement and any express declaration,
gi\'cn his consent to be of any commonwealth is perpetually and indis­
pensably obliged to be and remain unalterably a subject to ir, and can
never be again in the liberty of the state of nature, unless by any
calamity the government he was under comes to be dissohed, or else
by some public act cuts him off from being any longer a member of
it.•
But the father can never 'by any compact whatsoever bind
his children or posterity ; for his son, when a man, being
altogether as free as the father, any act of the father can no
more give away the liberty of the son than it can of anybody
else'.3
In principle, then, any man is at liberty-provided he has
not expressly consented to be a member of the society-to
separate from one government, and join with others in
making a new and distinct commonwealth, or else to go and
unite into any other commonwealth which will receive him.
This right-which amounts to a natural right of emigration
-is subject to one fundamental condition: he who would
disclaim the lawful government of the country he was born
in . . . must also quit the right that belonged to him by the
laws of it and the possessions there descending to him from
his ancestors . . .'.4 The prospect of a patrimony is, of course,
'no small tie on the obedience of children' ; it is, in fact, a
positive inducement to become and remain a member of the
society.s Thus, in practice, men for the most part do become
members of the society wherein they are born and therefore
pass permanently into subjection to the established govern­
ment. However, this is not usually noticed, because the
1 Tre41h�.J, 11, sec. 11S. a Ibid. II, acc. 1'11.
+ Ibid. 11, sec. 191. Sec a!Jo I«'- 73, 115. s Ibid. II, ,..,., 7>, 73, n�z.
llASIS O F MEMBJ:: R SHIP TN THE COMMONWEALTH 135
consent involved is 'tacit'. But it is clear that Locke's principle
of 'nationality' depends on neither the rule of jus soli nor
jus s11ngui11is. It depends only on the positive consent of the
individual. Once that consent is given, the subject is thereby
bound in the greatest degree--cven to the point of being
legitimately commanded to give his life in battle for the
preservation of the political society.
Conclurion
,
TJie SO'!'.�reign commonwealth, or the 'mighty leviathan' as
Locke calls it, is the product of the will of m.eD. It is they
who put on the 'bonds of civil society', and they who 'sub­
ject themselves to government', but only with the intention
of securing in fact what belongs to them only in principTe-)
in the mere state of nature : the protection oflife, liberty, and
property. That protection is provided, internally, by the
operation of the laws, to which all are subject. But the
members of the commonwealth now comprise a single,
separate body so far as the rest of mankind is concerned.
What is to be done with respect to security for the body
politic as a sovereign entity depends on the nature of the
relations between all such entities. It is this dimension of
the political problem which is the ultimate determinant of the
nature of political society,Jand it is to it we must now turn.
ln Chapter 4 we shall consider the application of Locke's
notion of a state of nature to the problem of the character of
the law ofnations, including the rights and duties of sovereign
commonwealths. In Chapter 5, .finally, we shall consider the
general implications of Locke's concept of the state of
nature as they pertain to the internal structure and the
operation of political society.
J Ibid. II, sec. 116.

4 public affairs.t
THE LAW OF NATURE A S THE
LAW OF NATIONS
The State ofNature and the Law ofNations
'ALL commonwealths', says Locke, 'are in the state of
nature one with another'.' The analysis presented in the
preceding chapter suggests that this proposition may now
be reformulated as follows: The commonwealth is a sove­
reign body, created by the consolidation of the natural will
and natural force of its individual members. It therefore
constitutes an artificial or 'public' person existing in its
natural state, just as the individual constitutes a natural and
private person in a natural state prior to the creation of
political society. In both cases the decisive fact is the ab­
sence of � common judge to whom appeal may be made in
case ?f dispute or conflict, . and it is the general applic.'ltion
of this concept to the relations of commonwealths which is
of particular concern for the moment.
( Although the general conception in the two c.'lses is the
'me, the precise character of the analogy between men in a
sa
state of nature and commonwealths in that state needs
specification. In the first place, although it is true that the
common�ealth as such c�nstitutcs a 'public' person, it is
also true rn fact th�t t?e pnnc� ?r the rulers-which is to say
natural persons w1thm a. political society-are responsible
for the �o?duct of relations among the sovereign bodies.
Hence, 1t is necessary to make a distinction between such
men in th�ir private capacity and in their capacity as the
representation of the public will, a distinction which has
STATE OF NATURE AND TllE LAW OF NATIONS 1 37
no counterpart in th.c ca�c of individual men living in a state
of nature, but which IS of considerable importance for
Locke's theory of responsibility in the management of
.In �e second place, th� c�ndition which finds single men
.hvmg
m a state of natun: is, in fact, exceptional, whereas the
state of nature between commonwealths is the usual state of
affairs.2 Kor is the basic reason for this difference far to seek.
As we have seen, individuals living in a state of nature are
acc?rding to �eke, 'driven' into some form of political
society by their wretched condition and lack of self-suffi­
ciency. He il�ustrates this point by the way in which men
who are �epnved of the security of civil society--as by civil
wa:-�mckly form a1other body politic or enter into one
�
which 1s already established : most men live most of the time
in one or another of the world's political societies.3
But separate commonwealths arc, at least in principle,
m�ch more nearly self-sufficient bodies. They possess a
united force capable of defence of the body politic and its
mem?ers. The state provides for the relative peace and
secun:y of the mei:n.bers, protects their properties, and
establishes the cond1t1ons which conduce to industrv and
�he .p:oduction of plenty. Consequently, the incentive �hich
mdiv1duals have to leave the state of nature is lacking in the
case of independent commonwealths.
�
Thirdly, since commonwealths, like individual men in a
tate of nature, have no 'common superior on earth' to
Judge between the!11, and since the absence of such a superior
means that there 1s �o s�urce from which a set of positive,
known laws may denve, 1t follows that Locke tacitly rejects
the idea of a positive law which is binding on common­
wealths in their mutual relations, or that he tacitly identifies
1 er. infra, PP· I s+-6:, for • Ji1cu1,ion of the limit.t OL\ the right to wage Vt"U and how
thc--SC lim.iu rest on a dUtinctiou of public and pri'C'atc capacity.
2 Treah'w, ll, l«. •4- Locke ...ys thcrc, when he firsl u�e:1 che c:r:amplc of princn -.nd
rulers as men in a state: of naturc, ch.at this u.:ample alo."le pro•cs t-h.at the \\•-orld "nttcr wa.s•
oor ever will be, v.·ithout numbcn ormen in ibat 1catc'.
i Jbid. JJ, IC'et. 941 101-J, Zll·20.
138 THE I.AW OF NATURE AS THE LAW O F NATIONS
the law of nations with the law of nature : wherever men are
not subject to the positive laws of a particular sovereign
power, they remain in the natural state, where they have only
the law of nature for their guide.1 We shall return presently
to a detailed consideration of the application of this principle
to the commonwealth, but it is sufficient for the moment to
say that Locke's teaching on the nature of relations between
sovereigns comprises a kind of natural public law. It is, at
least from the perspective of the restrictive side of his teach­
ing, a legal doctrine in the sense that it is expressed in legal
terms, and in the sense that the sovereign bodies consti�te
legal 'persons' to whom the law in principle applies. Yet it is
a doctrine which necessarily partakes of all the singular
characteristics of his general theory of natural law: his law
of nature, viewed as a law of nations, is not a body of law,
strictly speaking, but rather a body of theoretical principles
regarding the abstract rights and duties of sovereign bodies,
just as the law of nature is such a body of principles with
respect to individual men li vi ng in a state of nature. This is
not to deny that the difference in condition which charac­
terizes the life of men in collectivities may have an important
effect on the degree to which the law of nature is, or at least
may be, observed in the relations of commonwealths; but it
is to say that the source of the principles in question is ulti­
mately the same-that is, the primacy of the right to sclf­
preservation is valid whether it concerns the individual or
the political society. The elaboration of that right is itself
the work of reason and its effective establishment in fact
depends upon human activity. l his ostensible authority, Richard Iiooker,1 with Thomas
Fourthly, Locke's conception ofthe state ofnature excludes
the possibility of a real 'society' among commonwealths,
in the sense of there being a .,atural social bond among them.
For as we have seen in the preceding chapters, society is
• TT1111,11t1 1, •«· 81; II,""· 6, 9, 19, io. 11, 88, 90. 9+. 125, 176, 181, 191, 19s.
Sec apcciaUy paS!agcs such u 1hc one in11. tee. 9. Locke there rdcn 10 municipal law anrl
the law of J1lturc: aJ the OJlly tiA:O pottible IOUf'C.Ct of lM 10\"tteign't right to punish aliens;
he t.ac:idy e'c-ludct the traditlon.U middle catt:Soty of thejasft11tn1& Cf. C-rotius, De jure
&Iii, lib. ii, c. 2-0, KC. 4"0·
STATE OF NATURE ANO TllE LAW OF NATIONS I 39
equivalent to political society and depends, for its existence,
on the presence of a sovereign power and the establishment
of positive laws by which to regulate the coexistence of the
individual members. There being neither a sovereign nor
positive laws in the relations among commonwealths, the
latter are dissociated by the very fact of their being separate
political bodies, which is to say that in Locke's view they are
dissociated by nature ; men are or come to be social and
associated only by the artifice of political society. This does
not mean, of course, that commonwealths have no ordered
relations with each other. They obviously do, in the form of
exchange of diplomatic representatives, the conclusion of
agreements and treaties, and the like. The point is, however,
that for Locke such relations do not constitute social rela­
tionships as do similar activities among men within the same
political society, nor can the mere quantity of such relations
change the fundamental fact of the separateness of the given
political orders. One can, therefore, speak of an 'international
community' in the sense that the various polities have a
common source of power and right in the rules of the law of
nature, but not in the sense that this binds them to each
other by ties of natural sociability. On the contrary, as we
shall see, the ultimate fact of importance is the essential, if
not always overt, hostility of the independent units. )
rIn order to appreciate the extent to which Locke's doc­
trine, as thus far summarized, departs from the traditional
and generally accepted views of the seventeenth century, it
is necessary to contrast the core of his teaching with that of
Hobbes, and with Hugo Grotius.
Hooker teaches that there are three general kinds of law
(besides the positive law of God) by which all men are bound
in their actions. The first of these is the 'law of Reason or
human Nature' which simply concerns 'men as men'.\The
law of reason contains 'all those things which men by the
light of their natural understanding evidently know, or at
I C(. Maru1ing, op. cit., PP· s7-s8.
140 THE LAW OF NATURE AS THE LAW OF NATIONS
leastwise may know, to be beseeming or unbeseeming,
virtuous or vicious, good or evil for them to do'.1
!The law of reason would have been sufficient to direct
each particular person in all his affairs and duties had not
man's nature become depraved by original sin. But the
corruption of man's nature being presupposed-which is
proved by the biblical teaching on the point2-civil govern­
ment is now absolutely necessary in order to provide for the
public regiment of man's activities. The law of the common­
wealth, including all the positive Jaws of that body, is then
the second kind of Jaw to which all men are subject.J
In addition to the law of reason and the positive laws of
civil society, there is a third kind of law which is to regulate
the relations of men, and that is the law which applies to all
separate political societies 'so far forth as one of them hath
public commerce with another'. This Ilooker calls 'the law
of nations'. It is like both the law of reason and the laws of
political society, in that it may in principle be divided into
primary and secondary laws. Primary laws are those which
are grounded upon the 'sincere' nature of man-that is, the
condition of man in the state of innocence. 'Primarv laws
of nations are such as cohcern cmbassage, such as bel�ng to
the courteous entertainment of foreigners and strangers,
such as serve for commodious traflick, and the like.' Secon­
dary laws of nations are those grounded upon the 'depraved
nature' of man-that is, his sinful nature produced by the
Fall. If it had not been for man's depraved nature, the pri­
mary laws of nations would have been sufficient to regulate
his contacts with strangers or foreigners. But men now being
joined into separate political societies, and those societies,
because of man's sinfulness, being 'so prone to offer vio­
lence, injury and wrong' to others, a secondary law of
nations is necessary. The secondary laws of nations, says
Hooker, 'are such as this present unguiet world is most
1 Hookertop. c!t. 1. viii. 8-1 r.1. x. 1 1.
' Ibid. 1. x. I 3·
J Ibid. I. 1. 1, 3-5, 13.
STATE OF NATURE AND Tl:IE LAW OF NATIONS
familiarly acquainted with; I mean laws of arms, which yet
are much better known than kept'. 1
Hooker's law of nations also contains both natural and
positive laws. The natural laws arc immutable. They 'do
always bind' men in their relations-such as the natural law
e�joining that humaneness should be shown to foreigners,
smce all men are made in the image of God. The positive
l �ws of nations, in contrast, are mutable. They are the par­
ticular customs and rules of action which all, or nearly all,
civilized n:itions adhere to or recognize�such as the law of
heraldry in time of war. However, positive laws of nations
are as binding as the natural laws.2
Finally, Hooker draws a parallel between the binding
quality of the laws of civil society upon its members, and the
binding quality of the law of nations upon the respective
commonwealths:
The strength and >"irtue ofthat law is such 1.hat no pMticular nation
can lawfully prejudice the same by any their several laws and or­
dinances, more than a man by his private resolutious the law of the
whole commonwealth wherein he liveth. }'or ns civil law, being the
act of the whole body politic, doth therefore overrule each several part
of the same body; so there is no reason that any one commonwealth of
itself should to the prejudice ofanother an11ihilate that whereupon the
whole world hath agreed. For which cause, the Laccdaemonians for­
bidding all access of strangers into their coasts, are in that respect both
by Josephus and Theoderet deservedly blamed, as being enemies to the
hospitality which for common humanity's sake all the nations on the
earth should cmbrace.1
The fact that Hooker's law of nations is based on the
biblical teaching as well as oa the traditional argument of the
consensus genti11m is enough in itself to make clear the gulf
which separates his teaching from that of Locke. But as we
might expect, Locke is careful not to call attention to his
radical deviation from Hooker. I-le accomplishes this by
avoiding, in his quotations from Hooker, the embarrassing
1 liooker1 op. ch. 1. x. 1i1 13. z lbid. 1, x. rz., r J; 1. nr. 1, 3 ; r. xvi. 11 5.
J Ibid. r. x. r 3 i cf. vur. ii. 17.
141 TH£ LAW OF NATURE A S THE LAW OF NATIONS
passages ofthe Ecclesiastical Poli.rywhich discuss the character
and the binding quality of the law of nations. The most
striking example of this technique occurs in a note to section
94 of the Second Treatise, where Locke quotes this passage
from Hooker: 'Civil law, being the act of the whole body
politic, doth therefore overrule each several part of the same
body.' This passage is taken---out of context, it will be noted,
by comparing it to I-looker's statement-from the very
section in which Hooker expiicitly draws a parallel between
the binding force of civil law and the law of nations ; in fact,
the whole point of Hooker's passage is to state categorically
the binding character of the positive law of nations, and he
uses the example of civil law only as analogy.1 But Locke, by
his manner of quoting, not only reverses the intention of
Hooker, but also thereby completely ignores the idea of the
law of nations in the traditional sense. 'Vhat is more, one
will search in vain through the whole of the Two Treatises for
a single use of the term 'law of nations', an omission which
is particularly striking in those passages which deal ex­
plicitly with the relations of cornmonwealths.2
Locke is not, however, the originator of the teaching that
all commonwealths are in a state of nature and that the law
of nations is simply equivalent to the law of nature. The
credit for that innovation must go to a man who is not even
mentioned in the Treatises-that arch innovator, Thomas
Ilobbes.J
Hobbes expressly identifies the state of nature with the
state of war, a condition which exists whenever there is no
common power, or sovereign, to keep men in awe. Since
there is no common power on earth to keep the sovereigns
. who has become known to later generations as the 'father of
of the world m awe, they are and ever will be in a state of
nature one toward another\
I er. Hooker. op.cit. r.l:. 13.
2 Sec Note Q, p. 211.
3 Cf. Edwin OtWitt Dickinson, 'The Ana.logy between Natural Pertonaand International
c o1
� rs n in the: l1w of Nations', ralt La-:u :four-r.al, i:.t�·i (May 19 t 7), S64-9• · 1.>ic.kinsoo,
1
like 1nost commcotator,t bh rs the outlines of tbis development by 1r1uiog that Hobbes
'revived' lhe 1mcdicv1l' thcorici; ofnaturalla'v and .hc
·
t 11tatcofnature. 1 hc distinction between
Hobbes and Orotiu", for eiample, then appears to be: much le:'t import�t than it s i n i f�L
STATE OF' NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATIONS 143
. . . in all times, kings , and persons ofsovereign authority, because of
their indcpendcncy, are in continual jealou$ies, and in the state and
posture of gladiators; having their weapons pointing, and their eyes
fixed on one another; that si, their forts, garrisons, and guns upon the
frontiers of their kingdoms; and continual spies upon their neighbours;
which is a posture of war. But because they uphold thereby, the indus­
try of their subjects; there does not follow from it, that misery, which
accompanies the Liberty of particular men.•
The condition of all sovereign commonwealths being that
of a state of nature one toward another, they are under only
the law of nature; for according to I-Iobbes :
. . . tht natural law may be divided into that of mm, which alone hath
obcaincd the title of the low efnature; and that ofcities, which may be
called that ofnations, but vulgarly it is termed the right of11ation;. The
precepts of both are alike. But because ciries once instituted do put on
the personal proprieties of men, that law, which speaking of the duty
ofsingle men we call natural, being applied to whole cities and nations,
is called the right ofnations. And the same elements ofnatural law and
right, which have hitherto been spoken of, being transferred to whtJ!t
cities and 11ali6111, may be taken for the elements of the laws and Yights
of nations.i
In short, 'the law of nations, and the law of nature, is the
same thing'. Sovereigns standing as they do, completely
independent of any positive law, they have the same right,
in procuring the safety of their people, 'that any particular
man can have, in procuring the safety of his own body'.l )
Hobbes's teaching that the law of nations is simply the law
of nature was, at the time he advanced it, a revolutionary
doctrine. It marked a decisive break with the traditional
point of view, as expressed, for instance by IJugo Grotius,
international law'. There are three inter-related aspects of
1 J-(obbet,Uoi1ia:A"'"• pt. i, ch.13 (83}; De Cive, pt. ii, cit. 13, sec. 7 : '1'he:rc arc two things
o�ccssuty for che people'• defence; llJ b� •tuarnedandlfib4Jfarearmttd. For the gcatc of c oin.'tlO
ll.·
v.·�lths COl\tidercd in themselves, i!I natural, that is to s11y, hostilt". Ndthcr ifthey cca..!e fro1n
fighting, is it therefore to be called peace; but rather a brcaLhing time, in which one enemy
1n o .a
observing tht oti n .and e:ouatenaoce of the other, values his .s«urhy not ccording to the
pactt, but the force• and counsels of his ad,·�rSaty•.
2 Dr Ciw, pt. ii, ch. 14, acc
. 4-· 1 IA'CliorAa.1t, pt. li, ch. 30 (�3�).
144 THE LAW OF NATt;RE AS THE LAW OF NATIONS
that break which become important in sub�equent theories
of international law and which therefore throw a clearer light
on the place of Locke's doctrine. First, there is Hobbes's
denial of the existence of any positive law of nations, or jus
gentium. The )us gentium, according to Grotius, is one of
three types of human 'volitional' law (the other two being
the j11s civile, and the laws subject to but not derivative of
the jus civile, such as the commands of a father to a child).
Jru genti11m is generated by, and receives its obligatory force
from, 'the will of all nations, or of many nations' . 1 The laws
thus originated are positive laws, and have in view 'the
advantage, not of particular states, but of the great society
of states'. In addition to the obligatory force supplied by the
inevitable benefit that accrues to those who observe the laws,
the ultimate source of obligation to that law is man's natural
impulse to social life. Grotius says : 'Even if no advantage
were to be contemplated from the keeping of the law, it
would be a mark of wisdom, not of folly, to allow ourselves to
be drawn towards that to which we feel that our nature leads'.z
But in Ilobbes there is no such natural impulse to social life.
Man's natural condition is in the state of nature, which is the
state of war of all against all. For :Hobbes, the only source of
law, properly speaking, is the command of the sovereign)
Second, 1-iobbcs drastically narrows the scope of the law
of nations by r�stricting it to the Jaw regarding relations
betwee� sover�1gn commonwealths, or to what is today
calle� t�te�nauonal law. But the jus genrium, according to
Grotius s view, was much more comprehensive. It meant not
simply the laws governing intercourse between sovereign
commonwealths, but referred also to the law common to all
or many nations, or to universal law.J
Third, Hobbes, by his explicit identification of the law
of nations with the law of nature, implicitly denies the
relevance of the Grotian distinction between the two kinds
of law. According to Grotius, the origin and basis of the
� Go� ciu�, �' Jttrt Btlll,lib. i, e. 1, sec. 1+ z Ibid., Prolqomcna, sea. 17 md 18.
1 bid., bb. 1, c. 1, aec. 1+; but c!. Dun.nillg, op. cit., pp. 171-i.
STATE OF NATURE AND THE LAW OF NATIONS •+s
positive law of nations lies in the 'will of all 1 or of man}'
nations'. I Qn the other hand, the natural law of nations is
•
derived from the fundamental principles of reason as such:
The law of nature s i a dictate of right reason, which points out that
an act, according as it is or is not in conformity with rational nature
has in it a quality of moral baseness or moral necessity; and that, i�
consequence, such an act is either forbidden or enjoined by the author
of nature, God.•
Although there may often be a correspondence between the
actual precepts of jus 11aturae and the precepts of the voli­
.
tio1:aJ }_us ge11ti11m, the point is that jus gc11ti11m is not simply
.
derivative of right reason-as arc the dictates of the jus
naturae-but is generated by an independent operation of
the human will. Hence, there is for Grotius a fundamental
distinction between the positive law of nations and '.ts
counterpart in the law of nature; and he censures those
writers who tend to confound the two.J But for Hobbes, the
law of nations is the law of nature.
Finally, Hobbes's identification of the two forms of law
goes much deeper than a mere change in terminology. By
reducing the law of nations to the law of nature, Hobbes
entirely changes the meaning of 'law' in relation to sove::reign
commonwealths, since Hobbes's law of nature itself is funda­
mentally different from Grotius's. \Vhereas to Grotius the
laws of nature are the immutable dictates of right reason
regarding the duties all men are bound to by their very
nature, to l. lobbes the laws of nature are 'but conclusions, or
theorems concerning what conduceth to the conservation
and defence' of man in relation to other men.4 It follows
then that for Hobbes the laws of nature, as applied to
sovereigns in their mutual relations, amount to nothing
more than the conclusions or theorems concerning what
will conduce to the preservation, defence, and benefit of
the commonwealth. In the state of nature between
1 Gr<1tiu1, i,
op. cit., lib. c. t, sec. 14. ' Ibid., iec. 10.
3 lb!d., J3rolegomcna, &cc. 4-0; lib. i, c. I, s.ec. IJ.
4 Hobbes., U"CJi41h/J111 pt.. i, ch.. 1 S (104).
eoss L
1�6 THE LAW O F NATURE AS THE LAW OF NATIONS
commonwealths, the very 'notions of right and wrong,
justice and injustice' have no place : '\Vhere there is no com­
mon power, there is no law: where no law, no injustice.
Force, and fraud, are in war the two cardinal virtues'.'
Locke's conception of a state of nature between common­
wealths, his identification of the law of nations with the law
of nature, and his basic conception of that law of nature­
that is, a law based on the pri1nacy of the right to self­
preservation-clearly indicate the extent to which he tacitly
follows I-Iobbes in his teaching on the nature of relations
between commonwealths. This is not to deny the existence
of important doctrinal differences which distinguish the
teaching of the two men. Locke, as will be seen presently,
develops a number of points-such as the doctrine of just
war, and the limitation of rights of a just conqueror­
which are manifestly divergent from the extreme position
expressed in the Le-.;iathan and the De Give. The essential
point to be stressed here, however, is that Locke and
Hobbes, by their agreement regarding the fundamental
notion that international relations constitutes a state of
nature and international law is equivalent to the law of
nature, stand together and in contrast to the traditional
point of view, which is expressed by Hooker and Grotius.
M�reover, although Hobbes is not today primarily
. fore, the will of the sovereign which is the 'essence and
associated with the development of modern theories
of international law, the fact is that his doctrine on
the state of nature and the law of nature was destined
to exert considerable influence in that field. This can
be seen not only in Locke, but also in the writings
of such men as Spinoza,2 Pufendorf,3 'Volff,-i and
1 See Note R, p. :1 r. :a Sec Note S, p. z.r2.
:a�•mucl Pu(("l\d�rr, o, Jt1rt Na111.ra� t.t Ctttrium, 11. iii. 23: 'There i1, finally, one more
. uon �o be consu�crcd here, na.mely, whether there be t peculiar tind pogitivc law of
qu �
c
nations, d1su.nct from the nntunil law . . . . It is held by many that chc law of nature and tbe
liw of natlont :ire one cind the saine thing, diffcring only ill their exttrnal denon1loatiou . . . .
To rhi1 lifatt:mcnt (J robber, Dt C/vet pL il, c.h.. c4, sect. +, s] \IJC also (ulJy Aub11(.ribe. Nor do
we feel that chcre it any other \•oluoury or positi\'c la\v of nations which ha.1 the force of•
law, pra�rly iO called, 1uch as binds nations �s ifit pl"O('r�dcd from a su�rior'.
• CJinrrlan Wolff, ]11sCt"tfu1111 Aftt.hodoSc.t'tnlifica Ptrtracfat11m,ch. \'1, ttt. 613 : •.. . ,Lace
STATE O F NATURE AND THE LAW O F NATIONS '4-7
Vattel.• The histoiz of modern international law has yet
fully to evaluate the influence of the basic change in outlook
.
which has resulted from this break with the traditional
teaching on the law of nature and nations. For while most
present�day writers recognize in a general way the pro­
found mfluence of the natural-law doctrines on modern
�
t eories ?f international law, more often than not they fail to
�11ferentiate the countervailing influences produced by Gro­
tms on the one hand, and by Hobbes and Locke' on the
other. The tendency, rather, is to lump together various
.
n�tural-law doctrines, as though there were no important
differences between them.• The result is a distortion of the
historical facts about the relation of modern natural Jaw to
the principles of international law.
The Natural Equality, Freedom, and Independence
ef Commonwealths
Locke's analogy of sovereign commonwealths in a state of
nature to individual men in that state is not meant to be taken
too literally. There is nothing in the Treatises to suggest that
commonwealths are to be considered as real persons. On the
�the� hand, they arc indeed, as we have seen, the legal or
.
1und1cal persons of the natural law of nations. It is, there­
union' of a political society and which must be taken for the
will of the members;1 and any characteristics' rights' or
.
duties which may be ascribed to the commonwealth on the
basis of the law of nature are to be understood in terms of
the legal doctrine by which the commonwealth is said to be
a ' public person'.
All commonwealths, since they are the persons of the
their relatio111 to cac.h other arc regarded as indivich1�I free pcrtons Jh1ing in a tt:ite
nations in
ofnature, and since in their relation to each other they u11c nothinge-xc<:pt natural law, or chat
belongitg by nnn1rc to c\'ery man, tb� dgbt of war belongs to o�tiont , . . . Aud hence it is
r
that what is to be dct.ern1h\cd concernjng public "'':i.r is dcri\•cd from prh·�te w;11r. �l'he l"w of
w:ir is also in perfect a".cord \vlth the purpose of the state, " certain part of which iJ security.
thst iJ1 frctdom from fur, C$pecially of c:xtcmal foru'. 1 See 1'otc: T, o. i1:..
2 Set Not< U, p. � 1 :.. J Tre.a11srt, ll, 11cc1. 151, ::1;, �•+
148 THE LAW OF NATURE A S THE LAW OF NATIONS
natural Jaw of nations, must by nature be considered as
equal, free, and independent.I These fundamental charac­
teristics derive from two related principles of Locke's doc­
trine. There is, first, the basic principle that commonwealths
are in a state of nature, which suggests that just as men in a
state of nature are equal, so commonwealths in a state of
nature are to be considered as equal. As the 'public persons'
of the natural law of nations, they are equal in the decisive
respect: commonwealths by nature have an equal right to
be free from the dominion of any other government, and to
have only the law of nature to govern them ni heir actions t greatest commonwealth to be considered as an equal under
or mutual relations.2 And being equal by nature, they share,
at least in principle, in the same rights and duties prescribed
by the law of nature.
There is also the principle that all the powers of the
commonwealth are derived from the natural powers which
individuals possess in the state of nature. Since all men are
by nature equal and possess the same natural powers under
the law of nature (such as the power to do as one sees fit in
order to preserve oneself), and since they equally give up all
those natw·al powers to their respective civil societies to be
used for the good of the public, it follows that all govern­
ments must, in the nature of things, receive exactly tl1e sa1!le
powers relative to external relations.3 They are thus equal
not only with respect to the right to be free of the dominion
of others, but equal also with respect to the powers con­
ferred on them by the members of the society-powers
which were given up only with the manifest intention that
each government should use them to maintain the freedom
of the body politic: '. . . for the end why people entered into
society being to be preserved one entire, free, independent
society, to be governed by its own laws, this is lost whenever
they arc given up into the power of another'.•
• Stt �otcV,p.21?. 1 Tr<o.11�1. IJ, sea. .;.., 6, 14' 19, :?.o.
J Ibid. II, sea. 87, 88, 1i7, 131, 133, 136; Rs•OJ• n. x:1vii i. 10.
4 TrtatiJc-1, J1, sect. :1 t,: t7; A TlurJU11,rJW Tol4ratirnr (IP<-rks, v. :?.JS): '"The po\\·cr
. . . ofany society . . . is nothing-but the autboriry and direction gi�cn to th0$e tlut ba\"e the
m.a.nagcmcnt of the fo�e or natural power of ch� 10Ciery, how and to "''hat ends to u.se it.
EQUALITY, FREEDOM, A N D I NDEPENDENCE ·�
Locke certainly does not suggest, however, that common­
wealths are equal in all respects. Nor does he believe that
inequalities which exist arc inconsequential. On the con­
trary, he is profoundly aware of the practical bearing which
inequalities in territory, population, technical skill, natural
resources, and military establishment may have. He knows
that such differences in sheer power are often decisive in
determining whether, in fact, a commonwealth is able to
maintain its freedom and independence.' But that fact does
not alter the natural right of the meanest as well as the
the law of nature, and to share in all the rights and privileges
that law allows. To deny that equality to any common­
wealth would be tantamount to denying the original natural
equality of the men who compose the body politic. This
becomes even more clear when we consider the core of
irreducible rights which belong to every political society by
nature.
The first and fundamental law of nature is that all
men have the right to be preserved 'as much as possible'..
But individual men having entered civil society, their
original right of self-preservation is now replaced by the
commonwealth's right of self-preservation. For the common­
wealth, says Locke, is 'standing upon its own basis and acting
according to its own nature' when it is 'acting for the pre­
servation of the community'.z
Furthermore, the right of self-preservation implies the
right to the means of preservation, and therefore the right to
take whatever actions are necessary to that end. In the case
of individuals in the state of nature, this meant primarily the
right to appropriate the meat and drink necessary to life,
and the right to take any measures to protect one's person
by a·hich commi,qQ"a the ends of10ticcid arc known and Cisdoguishd:. So tfu.t all JOCieri£J
wherein. � wbo arc inuusted "itb the m2nactrncnt of the force or natural power of the
society, bal"e comrnitJion '-Jld authority to use the foKc or n.JtoBI pow-er of tl:e society
to attain the 1Amc bent.fits., arc inttituted for the ••me end'·
1 TruriUJ., 11, tec:t. 4-2 (end}, 176, :.t 1 ; a.nd tee 1ifr11, Ch. s, for Locke's mef°c.antitut
licws. i Tred1i11.1, 11, s.cc.. I4j. Sec 1.ho JeCS. I18, 129' •34, I S9·

150 THE LAW OF NATURE AS THE I.AW O F NATIONS
and property. In the case ofthe commonwealth, it means that
foreign policy is to be guided by the necessity to protect the
territory, the members, the property, and the other interests
of the society. The application of this general principle is
necessarily left to the judgement of each government, or
more specifically, the federative power, which must deal
with particular situations and with the particular designs
and interests of other governments in such a way as to pro­
tect the interests of its own community.1
Third, there being no common superior on earth to judge
between them, and men having given up all their natural
power to execute the law of nature, every commonwealth­
that is, every government-now possesses the right to
execute that law. For if there were nobody to enforce the
law of nature, that law would be in vain, just as in the case of
individuals in a state of nature. �he right to execute the law
of nature includes, in the first instance, the right to judge
and punish infractions of the law of nature which any com­
monwealth or foreigner may commit. This right is not
confined simply to punishing the injuries which a common­
wealth itself may suffer, but extends in principle to actions
in all the world. Consequently, any commonwealth has the
theoretical right to punish any other for infractions, regard­
less of who the injured party may be, a principle which lays
the ground for the elaboration of the idea of collective
security.
The other aspect of the right to execute the law of nature
is the right to exact reparations for damage done to the
public property or to the property of any member of the
commonwealth by anyone from outside the civil society_
This right of reparation belongs specifically to the common­
wealth which has suffered the damages; but any other
c�mmo�wealth which feels the cause is just may join, if it
.
wishes, in helping to exact reparations.i
Set over against these fundamental rights is the much
1 Trtah'stJ, 11, ICC.II. 88, r4S-?·
i Ibid. I,s... 130, 13i; 11, •-· 7-n, 87-89, 130, 131, 159.
.
EQUALITY, FREEDOM, ANO lNDEPENDENCE lfl
more general and ambiguous duty of all governments to
preserve the rest of mankind, in so far as possible. Thus the
law of nature, in its application to sovereign bodies, forbids
wantonly attacking others or taking their lands and other
properties, and the compact itself indicates a reciprocal
agreement to this effect. Such atcacksjustly expose the guilty
government to punishment by other commonwealths. But the
duty to preserve others is, according to Locke's conception
of the law of nature, only conditional; when the common­
wealth is in jeopardy, the right of self-preservation is inde­
feasible. This follows simply from the primacy of right over
duty, which is generally true of the law of nature. Moreover,
since every commonwealth has the natural right to judge
in its own case, the final decision rests with each government
as to whether a particular action taken by another government
does in fact jeopardize its own existence. For thatjudgement,
a government is answerable to no power on earth.1
The Nature and Obligation of Treaties
Commonwealths, standing as they do in a state of nature
and retaining all the rights which belong to public persons
under the law of nature, are perfectly free to enter into agree­
ments with each other, such as leagues, alliances, treaties
relative to territorial settlements, commercial treaties, and
the like. But according to Locke's principles, treaties
are neither a source nor a form of international law (as
they arc generally regarded today). The law of nations
being but the law of nature for Locke, and the want of any
superior legislating and enforcing authority negating the
possibility of mere agreements between commonwealths
being considered as positive law, the status of a treaty is
simply that of a mutual agreement, covenant, or contract,
which is entered into by public persons still living in the
state of nature.
Covenants concluded in the state of nature-however
' Trtatr'&eJ, ll, 1cca. 6, -zo, 2J1 176, z41, 242. For 11 rnore gcncral diacussion ofthe implica
tion1 of thit upect of Locltc's doctrine. sec Ch. )·
..
tp Tl!E LAW OF l\ATU.RE AS THE LAW OF NATIONS THE NATURE AND OBLIGATION OF TREATIES 153

numerous and enduring they might in fact prove to b�­
are, in principle, only temporary agreements regarding
.
limited matters. Such covenants certainly do not end the
state of nature which exists between the contracting parties.
The only contract which can end the state. of nature is that
original and fundamental compact ?f which. a number �f
men agree to enter into one body politic and give up all their
natural powers to the society:
for it is not every compact that puts an end to the state of nature
• . .
ilie shifts in power and wealth within a given society: 'Thus
people, riches, trade, power, change their stations, flourish­
ing mighty cities come to ruin and prove in time neglected,
desolate corners, whilst other unfrequented places grow into
populous countries, filled with wealth and inhabitants'. 1
The same is true with respect to the relative condition of
commonwealths. The contemplated conditions on which the
validity of treaties rests are unlikely, therefore, to be very
constant. Nor can governments always be sure that ilieir
co-signatories to a treaty are still willing and able to honour

between men' but only this one ofagreeing together mutually to enter
. their obligations. Once the inducement of expected benefits
into one community and make one body politic; o�er pr?m1ses and
compacts men may make one with another and yet still be m che state has been replaced by the expecation
t of injury, damage, or
of nature.' loss because of changed conditions or by the changed inten­
tions of the other party, Locke's principle of the supremacy
But treaties presumably are motivated either by fcar­
of rights suggests that there is no longer an obligation �o
such as the fear which leads to the conclusion of a treaty of
honour the terms of the treaty. A government may, m
alliance against the threatening power-or else by the hope
. principle, disengage itself from the obligation simply by
of some gain or profit for the commonwealth_ and its members,
ignoring or unilaterally renouncing the treaty; for the first
whethei: territorial, commercial, or otherwise. In both cases
duty of every government is to preserve the commonwealth
the terms of the treaty are based on conditions which exist at
and its members and to protect their interests. It would, in
the time of its conclusion, and on expectations witl1 regard
fact, be contrary to the terms of the original compact which
to the future conditions relative to the stipulations of the
founds the society for the rulers to insist on observing pro­
pact. I-lence, the parties to the treaty naturally agree to
mises which are injurious to their subjects. Given the fact
perform, or to refrain from performing, particular acts rela­
that all commonwealths have a right to judge i n their own
tive to certain specified conditions. The promise to honour
case, an indefeasible right of self-preservation, and a right
the terms of the treaty remains valid then so long as the
to take whatever action is necessary to preserve themselves
conditions specified in the contract remain the same. In
and protect their vital interests,. Locke's doctrine of the state
terms of the law of nature, this means that each sovereign .
of nature necessarily results in the extremely precanous
e
is bound to carry out his fr ely contracted obligations: 'the
status of treaties.
promises and bargains' which sovereigns make 'are binding
Finally, however, treaties �hich �re �bt�ined by ilie un­
to them, though they are perfectly in a state of nature in . .
just use of force are never va
lid or bmdmg 1� principle; the
reference to one another; for truth and keeping of fa\tb
Jaw of nature binds a government only when 1t has consented
belongs to men as men, and not as members of society'.2
But in the realm of affairs of state, where the variati n o to tlie stipulations of the contract. Otherwise, the only rule
would be that of force, by which the great powers would not
of designs and interests is so marked, iliings seldom remain
oniy in fact, but also of right, subdue any other �ommon­
the same for long. Locke argues in iliese terms regarding
wealth. Hence, a treaty obtained by force may justly be
1 Trr.:1iu1, II, sec. 1+
• lbid. Scealso1cos. 81, 19t, 195. • Trt•tf111, 11, J«. 157.
154 THE LAW OF NATURE AS T H E LAW OF NATIONS
thrown off whenever the subjugated government or people
find it possible to do so; but this is to say that, in fact, such
treaties are binding until such an action takes place.1
The Limitations 011 the Right of War
Locke observes that the world is often full of 'disorders',
and that the 'noise of war' fills a 'great part of the history of
mankind'. And all too often 'conquerors' swords . . . cut up
governments by the roots and mangle societies to pieces,
separating the subdued or scattered multitude from the
protection of and dependence on that society which ought
to have preserved them from violence'.• But Locke says the
'practice of the strong and powerful, however universal it
may be, is seldom the rule or right' ; examples of what has
been done are not the source of the principles as to what
ougiittObe EOne.3 Locke's purpose is, then, to clarify the
'ilaural-law
t limitations on the right to make war, regardless
of whether the principles so derived are consistent with the
historical practices of states. In fact, given the theoretical
character of the natural law of nations, one would expect that
the principles are quite likely to be in sharp contrast to
practice. For the moment, however, we are concerned with
the content of the principles rather than the implications to
be drawn from their possible ineffectiveness.4
Every government is bound, by the law of nature and the
conditions of the original compact, to preserve its subjects
and their properties. The individual's right to make war is
given up to the commonwealth with the express limitation
that it shall be employed only 'in the defence of the common­
wealth from foreign injury', which is to say only for 'the
public good'.5 Consequently, rulers who use the war power
only to achieve personal glory and power through conquests
(but at the expense of misery and destruction to numbers of
their own people) have broken the fundamental Jaw of the
1 Tru111es,ll,J.e1CJ.- 176, 1 86. 193.
J fbid. I, £tt. 57; U, S«S. 103, 180. 4 The b.ttcr topk is dealt with in Ch.. 5.
s Tr4a.111cs, I, a.cc. 9i.J 11, $«1. 3, J 1, 57, I j4-, r49.
THE LIMITATIONS ON TllE RIGHT OF WAR •ss
commonwealth, violated the law of nature regarding the
preservation of their own subjects, and exposed themselves
to punishment and removal from office. 1
Nor, to take the matter from the other side, has any
government the right arbitrarily to attack its neighbours'
lives, liberties, and possessions. Individual men in the state
of nature have no power arbitrarily to commit rapine, or
attack the life, liberty, health, and possessions of others, and
they cannot be understood to have transferred any such
powers to the government. Therefore, rulers can never
legitimately use the public force in war against the people of
another society for the purpose of subjugating them. Every
society being by nature equal, free, and independent-the
weak as well as the strong-no society can rightfully be
put out of that condition by the imperialistic designs of an
Alexander or a Caesar. �or, it follows, has any government
the right to seiz.e the territory and public properties of
�)
another commonwealt . The earth having �e�n parceJled
.
out into separate domams which become the JOlllt property
of each society, an attempt to expand at the expense of others
violates the law of nature by using force to take what has
already been appropriated. The same prohibition applies,
of course, to unwarranted attacks on private persons and
their possessions.2
Finally, the public force of the commonwealth can never
legitimately be used to instigate a war on religious �ounds,
such as in an attempt to stamp out heresy and idolatry.
Locke argues that those who maintain that such a right
inheres in the civil government would do well to reflect on
the consequences of their position. They ought to consider
'how pernicious a seed of discord and war, how powerful a
provocation to endless hatr� ds rapin�s, and slaughters, they
: _
�
thereby furnish unto mankind ; and m act, not mfreq�e?tly
the claim to the right to make war upon pretence of religion,
and the care of souls, serves for a cloke co covetousness,
1 ..
Ibid. tl sc.:s. 175. :?.tt.
' Trca1i111, 11, •«•· 88, 94, 95, 134, 147, •4-9• ??.I, :1?.1'.
' Ibid. U, '"''· 6-S, 45, •n. 179; Locke MSS., r." fol. 98.
156 THE LAW OF NATURE AS THE LAW OF NATIONS
rapine and ambition'.1 And those Christians who still would
argue that governments possess such a right would do well
to be consistent in the matter: 'Now whosoever maintains
that idolatry is to be rooted out of any place by laws, punish­
ment, fire, and sword, may apply chis story to himself. For
the reason ofthe thing is equal, both in America and Europe'.�
'The commonwealth', Locke says, 'seems to me to be a
society of men constituted only for the procuring, preserving,
advancing their own civil interests' .J Men never had any
natural right to use force to change the religious views of
others, nor to punish them for holding such views, and could
not therefore transfer any such power to the commonwealth.
Hence, commonwealths never have any 'just title to invade
the civil rights and worldly goods of each other, upon pre­
tence of religion'.4
Since a war waged for any of the preceding causes is
fundamentally unjust according to the law of nature, the
aggressor, if victorious, acquires no rights whatever, under
that law, over the victims of his conquest.
case of unjust conquest to that of a robber who breaks into
a house and forces the owner to turn over the deed to his
estate. Though both the robber and the
may force their victims into subjection and compliance, that
in no way determines the right in the matter :
That the aggressor who puts himself into the state of war with
another ru1d unjustly invades another man's right can, by such an
THE LIMITATIONS O N THE RIGHT OF WAR •H
followers m.�ke no difference in the offence, unless it be to aggravate it.
The only difference is, great robbers punish lictle ones to keep them in
tlleir obedience, but the great ones are rewarded witll laurels and
triumphs, because they are too big for the weak hands of justice in
this world, and have the power in their own possession which should
punish offenders.•
The difference between the victim of a robber and an
unjustly conquered people lies, of course, in the fundamental
fact that the former normally has an appeal to the municipal
law for justice; whereas the latter have no court or arbitrator
on earth to whom they may appeal. They and their heirs
have no other appeal but 'to heaven'-that is, the right to
resort to forceful overthrow of the conqueror whenever it
becomes possible, whjch right continues in them until they
have finally recovered the 'native right of their ancestors' and
can establish a legislature approved by tile majority.
The justcauses of war, as contrasted to the preceding
cases, derive essentially from the right to self-preservation
Locke likens the and the right to execute the Jaw of nature. VJ"henever a
commonwealth is attacked, its government naturally has the
right to wage war and to defeat the aggressor if possible :
unjust conqueror
. . . for want of posit.ivc laws anu j udgcs with authority to appeal to,
the state of war once begun continues with a right to tile innocent
party to destroy the otlicr whenever he can, until the aggressor offers
peace and desires reconciliation on such terms as may repair any wrongs
he has already done, and secure the innocent for the future . .• . .

unjust war, never come to have a right over the conquered, will be
easily agreed by all men who will not tl1ink iliat robbers and pirates
have a right of empire over whomsoever they have force enough to
master, or that men arc bound by promises which unlawful force
extorts from them. Should a robber break into my house, and wiili a
dagger at my throat make me seal deeds to convey my estate to him,
would this give him any title 1 Juse such a tide, by his sword, has an
unjust conqueror who forces me into submi��ion. The injury and the
crime are equal, whether committed by the wearer of the crown or
some petty villain. The title of the offender and the number of his
' A Uttt-r Co1tt-tr•int Tolrr4tictt (ll'orh, •· :o, J6).
• Ibid., p. 36. ' Ibid., p. 10.
Although in principle the just causes of war are separable
into those of defence, recovery of and reparations for propercy
damaged, and punishment to the offender so as to restrain
him and warn others, in practice all three are most likely to
be joined together i n the fighting of a war for lawful reasons.
But supposing victory favours those who have right on
their side: \\'hat specific powers does the just conqueror
obtain, and over whom ? And what are the limitations on
those rights? According to the law of nature, the just
• Ibid., p.>O. 1 t
bl
d. 11, ue. 2.0
•
• s8 THE LAW OF NATURE AS THE I.AW O�' NATIONS
conqueror has the right to punish the offenders and to exact
reparations. However, those rights are expressly limited i n
various respects. In the first place, the right to punish ex­
tends no farther than to those who are actually guilty of
having waged the unjust war. This means, in principle, that
only those who actually constituted the government of the
conquered country, or who expressly concurred in making
the war, are to be considered as responsible:
. . . for the people having given to their governors 110 power to do an
unj ust thing, such as is to make an unjust war for they never had -
such a power in themselves-they ought not to be charged as guilty of
the violence and injustice that is committed in an unjust war any
farther than they actually abet it, no more than they are to be thought
guilty of any violence or oppression rhcir governors should use upon
the people the�lves or any part of their fellow subjects, they having
empowered them no more to the one than to the other.•
Over the mass of the people then, the conqueror can gener­
ally have no legitimate power whatever, for they are innocent
of any wrongdoing.
But over those who are guilty of aggression, on the other
hand, the conqueror comes by right to have a 'purely des­
potical' power, for by their unjust use of force the aggressors
have forfeited their lives. Hence the conqueror may kill such
men any time that he pleases. Or else he may spare them but
make use of them in his own service-that is, enslave them
-without doing them any injury whatever. And whenever
those who are so enslaved find that their lot is too hard to
bear, they have i t in their power to resist the conqueror
and thereby bring on death, or else contract with the con­
queror to serve him on certain specified terms.1
Secondly, the power which the conqueror has over the
actual aggressor does not extend to that person's wife or
childre11-that is, to his descendants. They did not make
the war nor assist in it and therefore their lives cannot be
forfeited. Nor, therefore, can the conqueror consider such
to be the case.l
1 Tr�a1ls1s, II, acc. 179. 2 Ibid. fl, s.ccs. �J, 178, 180-2. J )bid. JI, sect. 182-+
THE LIMITATIONS ON THE RIGHT OF WAR 1 59
Thirdly, even though the conqueror has nn absolute power
over the lives of the guilty, he does not thereby acquire a
right and title to their possessions. Locke calls attention to
this point by saying that it is a 'strange doctrine, it being so
quite contrary to the practice of the world . . .'. But it
follows from the basic principles of the law of nature. For
the injury which is inflicted by the unjust use of force is
quite separate, in Locke's judgement, from the damage to
real property which results from the hostilities. The former
involves 011ly the forfeiture of one's life, whereas the latter
is concerned only with the necessity to make reparations to
the party who suffered the damage.1 It is true that the con­
queror thus has a right to exact reparations from those who
are guilty of inflicting the damages; but the extent and
nature ofthose reparations aJso are subject to certain qualifica­
tions.
For one thing, the children and the wife of the aggressor
also have a claim upon the goods which he owns. The wife's
claim, whether obtained by reason of her own labour or by
contract, can never be forfeited by reason of her husband's
crimes. As for the children, they are entitled to be maintained
out of the labour and substance of the father, regardless of
what actions he has taken against another. Consequently,
whenever there is a situation in which the conqueror's claims
for reparations exceed the property available to meet those
claims, the decision is to go in favour of those who are most
in need :
. . . the fundamental law of nature being that all, as much as may be,
should be prcsen•ed, it follows that if there be not enough to satisfy
both, viz., for the conqueror's losses and the children's maintenance,
he that hath, and to spare, must remit something of his satisfaction
and give way to the pres.�ing and preferable tide of those who are in
danger co perish without it.•
Furthermore-and this is a point of fundamental impor­
tance in Locke's doctrine-the claims to reparations by the
1 Tr14tit6r, 11, sec&. J80-2. • Ibid. II,'""· 183.
160 THE LAW OF NATURE AS THE LAW OF NATIONS
conqueror do not reach to the title of ownership in the land
of the commonwealth. In this regard, Locke makes a distinc­
tion between the landed property and the wealth in money
which belong to the conquered people. Although the con­
queror has a just claim to reparations, the damages he suf­
fered, according to Locke, can seldom exceed four or five
times the value of the yearly product of the land in any coun­
try where all the land is 'possessed' and none remains 'waste'.
But the value of even so much as five years' produce is worth
much less than the perpetual ownership in such developed
land. Consequently, if the conqueror were to claim per­
petual title to the land, he would be exacting reparations far
in excess of the damages inflicted. Hence, Locke says that
no damage which an aggressor might inflict can 'give a con­
queror power to dispossess the posterity of the vanquished,
and turn them out of that inheritance which ought to be the
possession of them and their descendants to all generations' . 1
If the conqueror can never acquire title to the land of a
country, he can, on the other hand, take the money of the
conquered as reparations for damages suffered. The money
is, of coutse, of great value to civil societies, as Locke well
knew. But he says that 'as to money, and such riches and
treasure . . . these are none of nature's goods, they have but
a fantastical imaginary value ; nature has put no such upon
them'.2
Fourth, the express limitation regarding acquisition of
title to land by the just conqueror applies with equal or even
greater force to title to lawful government. The power of
despotic control by the conqueror extends only to the actual
aggressors. All those who did not join in making the war, as
well as the posterity of the conquered, are free from any
political subjection whateve:-to the conqueror. If their former
government has been dissolved in the war, 'they are at
liberty to begin and erect another to themselves'. And even
upon the supposition that the entire adult population of
the commonwealth is guilty of aggression and therefore
1 Treorise1, 11, tee. 18+· • Ibid. Cf. sea. +1-50.
THE LIMITATIONS ON THE RIGHT OF WAR 161
subject to death or enslavement, the punishment cannot reach
their children. The latter are born free and in subjection to
no man, nor can they be so subjected by any acts of the
father. And since the absolute power of the conqueror neces­
sarily ends with the death of the actual aggressors, the
children retain their right to have a government over them
which is based on consent.1
The fact that even conquerors whose cause is just com­
monly use force to impose whatever government they please
on a conquered country does not establish their right to do
so. Promises to obey such a government are extorted by
force or threats of force and therefore are null and void.
' . . . [F]or the law of nature, laying an obligation on me only
by the rules she prescribes, cannot oblige me by the violation
of her rules: such is the extorting anything from me by
force'.2 From this it follows that even where the conqueror
has justice on his side, he violates the law of nature and puts
himself into a state of war with the people (by which is to be
understood the innocent part of the people) in establishing
a government which is not approved by the majority. The
existence of such a state of war means that :
. . . those who were forced to submit to the yoke of a government by
constraint, have always a right to shake it off and free themselves from
the usurpation or tyranny which the sword hath brought in upon
them, till their rulers put them under such a frame of government as
they willingly and of choice consent to.3
It is interesting to notice on this point that Locke considers
such a right to extend literally over centuries. He says, for
example, ''Vho doubts but the Grecian Christians, descen­
dants of the ancient possessors of that country, may justly
cast off the Turkish yoke which they have so long groaned
under, whenever they have an opportunity to do it ?'4 But it
1 Treatiu1, Jl,. tC'ct. 1 8s-9, 191 ; c:f. Nussbaum.,op. cit. (Note U, p. 21�). p. 164'; !.«- Wo
.F. Laurent, Hi1toir1 ti• Jrtiit tkt l'"' '' tk1 rtlotlC.•t ,,,,t�n#l�1,
,r•a tcm.e :r, Ltt /\far*·
1 Trt•tis.11. 1_
1, sec. 186.
..!1tb (Paris: Librairie lattroationalc, 1865), pp-. 4-97-SO•.
J: SeeNote W• p. 213. 4 Trt•lis.11, ll,sec. 191.
eoss M
161 TIIE LAW OF NATURE AS THE LAW O F NATIONS CONCLUSION
is also interesting to note that Locke implies that ifthe Turks the implications and consequences for the structure and
had granted a government by standing laws, to which the character of political society ? ln brief, we must now consider
Greeks had given their consent, and if they had allowed the what follows, for the organization and direction of political
latter their due property, then a right of obedience would society, from the initial and irreducible Lockeian premise of
have been established. the right to self-preservation.
Finally, whatever grants in the form of estates and posses­
sions the conqueror may make to descendants of the con­
quered ought to be honoured. For if it be said that the
conqueror can, simply by his right of conquest, once again
revoke such grants, 'then all free and voluntary contracts
cease and are void in the world'. Jn that case, all voluntary
contracts may be broken whenever there is power enough to
do so with impunity, and then all the promises and grants of
rulers are but 'mockery and collusion'. This cannot be
granted, Locke says, for the grants, oaths, and promises
which rulers make in such cases are binding on them under
the law of nature.1

( Co11clusion
Locke's conception of international relations as a state of
nature, in which commonwealths are subject only to the law
of nature, follows directly from his two basic premises: that
men are dissociated by nature, but that they also possess
certain fundamental rights by nature. Thus, on the one hand,
the absence of any common superior on earth means that
there is no source of common positive laws, hence no source
of a basis for sociability or community amongst independent
commonwealths. But on the other hand, the explicit and
severe restrictions on the right of conquest and the right to
make war are rooted in the Lockeian conception of the con­
sensual basis of political society and the natural right to
property. The final and decisive question then is whether
individual political societies can or will rely simply on the
restrictive principles of the law of nature for their protection
--or whether they may even be expected to. If not, what are
 PRACTICAL IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW OF NATURE i6s

rational principles which ought, ideally, to guide the con­

duct of single men in the original state of nature. But this is
only half tbe story. For although it may be true that the
5 creation . of �olitical societies ends the want and anarchy
.
among md1vtdual men and ideally produces plenty and
T H E L A Vv' O F N A T U R E A N D order among them, it is also true that the law of nature as
applied to the societies so formed, suffers from a set of 'de­
THE ECONOMY OF POWE R
fects whi� are par�lle� �o those which pertain when it is
.
apphed simply to md1v1dual men living in the state of
The Practical Impote11ce of the Law of Nature nature. It is necessary, in other words, to consider now the
actualities of the conduct of sovereign governments as Locke
Loe K E ' s theory of international relations exhibits the same
des_cribes them, and t�en to draw up tbe consequences
dual character as does his theory of the original state of
which result from the discrepancy between what is theoreti­
nature. The part of his doctrine which was dealt with in the
cally desirable and what is necessary in the generality of cases'
preceding chapter contains the restrictive precepts of the law
and especially in the extreme case.
of nature, a law which is, in principle, as binding on all gov­
fThe central, intransigent fact is simply that the state of
ernments as it is on individual men living in a state of nature.
nature is, in Locke's conception, essentially a condition of
Those precepts li.mit the use of sovereign power to the legiti­
disorder and insecurity caused by the lack of government.
mate ends for which government has been instituted-that is
. Let us consider for a moment the application of the idea of a
the security and well-being of the commonwealth Thus th;
state of nature between cotnn1011wealths to the three ki11ds of
law of nature forbids the use of force against other common­
?e9ciencies of such a �tate, enumerated by Locke in chapter
wealths except for protection and defence. It is just in con­
1x.1Is there among nations, any more than among individual
demning aggressors; it permits their punishment for crimes
men, an 'established, settled, known law, received and
against ot�er governments and p�oplcs. It prescribes the duty
allowed by common consent to be the standard of right and
of protectmg the weak and the innocent. A.nd when force is
wrong and the common measure to decide all controversies
legitimately employed to carry on a just war, the use of that
between them' ?1 Is there, to be more concrete, such a law
force is limited by the twin objectives of punishing the
with regard to what exactly constitutes 'aggression', or
aggr�ssor and obtainin� reparations. The purpose of a just
exactly what 'punishment' and what 'reparations' are due
war is to s��due or brmg to t�rms the guilty government,
. . when aggression has been committed? Is there such a law
�ot to anmhilate the entire citizen body. The rights of the with regard to when a treaty or agreement may legitimately
J�St con�ueror are strictly limited with respect to the acquisi­
be considered to have been violated? And is there such a law
tion of title to rule, to personal property of the vanquished,
enumerating in specific, concrete terms, criteria to determine
and to the land of the defeated country. On the other hand
who has legitimate title to a particularly valuable or strategic
those guilty o�the crime of aggression may quite legitimate! ; piece of land? To all these and to similar questions Locke's
be dealt wih t m the most severe manner possible. answer must unquestionably be in the negative. For how
When considered in the abstract, this would seem to be
can such laws exist when there is also lacking any known,
a rational and internally consistent code to guide the conduct
1 Trtdtittt, JI, sec. 12••
of foreign relations. As such, it is parallel to the set of
166 THE F.CONOMY OF POWER
central authority or sovereign, to promulgate, to interpret,
and to enforce such a code ?1 The fact is that common­
wealths, as individual men living in the original state of
nature, are by right of nature 'both judge and executioner of
the law of nature'.2 And who is to judge when a particular
nation has 'miscited' or 'misapplied' that law?J To this
question, which is repeated at intervals and in different con­
texts throughout the Two Treatises, Locke's answer invariably
is that the final appeal in all such cases is the 'appeal to
heaven', the right of which is indefeasible.4 Put in terms of
the actual situation which prevails in the state of nature
among commonwealths, this means simply that every govern­
ment which has the power and the inclination to ignore or
to violate the natural law of nations can be 'convinced' of its
'mistakes' only by suffering defeat at the hands of a more
powerful enemy. But this merely leads to the difficulty that
the disproportion between power and right in the initial
instance is reinforced by the superior power of the aggressor
to resist or even forestall retaliation : 'They who by any in­
justice offend will seldom fail, where they arc able, by force,
to make good their [njustice; such resistance many times
makes the punishment dangerous and frequently destructive
to those who attempt it.'5 The mere fact that all common­
wealths are free and equal by the right of nature is, then,
quite beside the point when it comes to the possession of the
power necessary to protect or maintain those rights. Locke
briefly but pungently summarizes the central problem of
international relations when he says that the 'great robbers
. . . are too big for the weak hands of justice in this world,
and have the power in their own possession which should
punish offenders'.6
Thus although the relations of governments are in prin­
�iple subject to the restrictive precepts of the law of nature,
m fact the world is filled with 'disorders' due to 'ambition'>
1 TrL�lilLI, 11, aces. 125, 116.
' Ibid. II, a«. u5.
' Ibid. 11, '""· 136. ' Ibid. 11, sect. :o, 21, 87, 109, 168, 176, 2.µ..
s Ibid. II, sec. 126. 6 Ibid. II, 1ec. 1 76.
1POT£NC£ OF TIIE LAW O F NATURE
PRACTICAL D 167
and 'the noise of war . . . makes so great a part of the history
of mankind' that 'consent', as the true foundation of govern­
ment, is 'little t:iken notice of; and therefore many have mis­
h
taken the force of :irms for t e consent of the people, and
reckon conquest as one of the originals of government'. 1
As for the distinction in principle between those who are
responsible for making a war and those who are not, Locke
observes: 'Conquerors, it is true, seldom trouble themselves
to make the distinction, but they willingly permit the confu­
sion of war to sweep all together . . .' .2 Again, in the case of
the principie that conquest gives no title to the land of the
conquered, he observes that in fact there is 'nothing more
familiar in speaking of the dominion of countries than to say
such a one conquered it, as if conquest, without any more
ado, conveyed a right of possession'.J Still again, when it is a
question of the right of the conqueror to dominion over the
conquered, Locke remarks : 'The conqueror, it is true,
usually, by the force he has over them, compels them, with a
sword at their breasts, to stoop to his conditions and submit
to fUCh a government as he pleases to :ilford them . . . ' .4
\[
he very fact that there are such frequent and ruthless
violations of the principles of right and equity suggests a
real danger which may befall that government which is-or
at least might attempt to be-a strict observer of the law of
nature. The state of nature being at best unsafe and un­
secure because unordered, and at worst a state of anarchy, it
is all too likely that such a government would receive for its
pains little commendation and still less security. Its share of
political success and therefore the worldly happiness of its
subjects would necessarily be slight, or at least in great
jeopardy. Or to put it even more emphatically, since there is
no guarantee of observance of the law of nature, nor any
redress once aggression has taken place, besides war, it may
happen that the commonwe."llths which scrupulously observe
the law invite destruction by allowing aggressors to take
I Tr4atiJ.t4 ll,1cc. 175. 2 Ibid. II,...:. 179.
J lbid.Il,1ec. 1Soi1ee1.l1oscc. 184-. • Ibid. ll,- 186.
168 THE ECONOMY O F POWER
)
advantage of that observance.• Yet men enter into Political
. .
society only with the intention to increase their security and
protect their properties; and to that end they have granted
the right to the government to 'employ the force of the com­
munity . . . abroad' to 'prevent' as well a� to 're ess' all
'foreign injuries', and to 'secure the community from inroads
and invasion'.2
Stated more generally, the primacy of rights over duties is
as emphatic in the natural law of nations as in the law of
nature when applied to individual men living in a state of
nature. This may be seen by considering some examples. or
instance, is it necessary for a government to be attacked with
force before it can legitimately resort to war? Such �o d
appear to be the case if one looks only at the restnc�ve
principles of the Jaw of nature. But a more care l ex�mma­
.
� parations. But every government being both judge and
tion shows that Locke nowhere places such a lmutat1on on
what is essentially the 'right of war'. On the contrary, his
basic principle is this: \Vherever there is no appeal to a
fixed settled Jaw, force is the only remedy when one is
:
thre tened, and it may be used even when no physical attack
has occurred. This is made clear in a number of places in the
Treatises. Locke says : 'A man with a sword in his hand de­
mands my purse in the highway, when perhaps I have not
twelve pence in my pocket ; this man I may lawfully kill'.3
Here, as in other places, Locke equates the mere threat of
violence with its actual use, at least so far as the right of
defence is concerned.• Furthermore, Locke says that not only
threatening actions, but also words which in any way convey
a hostile intention are sufficient to give the threatened party
the right to resort to war:
The state of war is a state of enmity and destruction; and, therefore,
declaring by word or action, net a passionate and hasty, but a sedate
settled design upon another man's life, puts him in a state of war
against him whom he has declared such an intention, and so has ex­
posed his life to the other's power to be taken away by him, or anyone
1 Tr1.�ri11.1,TI,sca. 16117,136.175.176. a lhid.ll,1ec. 131 {�mpbuissupplicd).
• !�id. 11, sec. •07. • lbOd.11, S<Ct. 17-10, 137, 168,.35.
PRACTICAL IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW OF NATURE 169
that joins with him in his defence and espouses his quarrel; it being
reasonable and just I should have a right to destroy that which
threatens me with destruction . . . . 1
ru: These remarks, when applied to the public persons, whose
'nature' it is to act 'for the preservation of the community',2
mean simply that governments have as much right as indivi­
dual men in a state of nature to construe verbal declarations
and other manifestations ofintent as evidence of hostility, and
therefore to make war if they feel it necessary or desirable.
� Here is the heart of the difficulty so far as any literal rule
of law in the state of nature among commonwealths is con­
cerned. In principle, war and related actions are just only for
� purposes of defence or to punish aggressors and exact re­
executioner of the law of nature, it necessarily is the final
arbiter in deciding when war is necessary, and there is no
court on earth to return a negative verdict or to hand down
an ultimate judgement on the abuse of that right. The court
of final resort is simply the field of bat.tie, in which case it is
purely accidental if right and justice are on the side of the
fi
stronger battalions. 'hus we arrive at the conclusion that the
}u
precarious status of stice and peace in the relations between
commonwealths is in fact the result, in good measure, of the
adherence by governments to the rights contained in the law
of nature. Or stated somewhat differently: Since all govern­
ments may by right of nature judge in their own cases, and
since they all have an equal and indefeasible right to self­
preservation, the very application of the rights contained in
the law of nature tends to contribute to conflict and to the
denial in practice of the restrictive principles of that law.
Yet according to Locke, rights are by na�ure absolutely
.
superior to duties, because men's natural des1re:i a:e prior to
any theoretical and therefore unnatural restrictions upon
them.
Locke docs not dwell on the implications of this prin­
ciple. He also avoids an explicit discussion of the decisive
1 Truliw, 11, a.cc. 16. 2 Ibid� ll, sec. 149.
170 THE ECONOMY OF POWER
cases-such as the situation where men are all reduced to
the level of bare existence. But he indicates clearly, though
sometimes indirectly, his answer to what must happen in
such situations. One example should suffice to make this
point clear. [t will be recalled that Locke says a just con­
queror has the right to exact reparations only up to the point
where, by further exactions, he would jeopardize the pre­
servation of the innocent people in the defeated country.
Beyond that point, Locke says, the conqueror ought to re­
linquish part of his claim in favour of those whose needs are
more pressmg:
. . . the fundamental law of nature being that all, as much as may be,
should be presen•ed, it follows that if there be not enough fully to
satisfy both, viz., for the conqueror's losses and children's maintenance,
he that hath, and to spare, must remit something of his full satisfaction
and give way to the pressir1g and preferable title of those who are
danger to perish without it.1
What happens, however, when the demand for food and
the other necessaries of life has become so great that even the
conqueror and his armies arc reduced to the level of bare
eJ1.1stence? What happens, in other words, in situations where
'all cannot be preserved'? Locke's argument, it will be
noticed, contains one crucial reservation in the case he refers
to: that the conqueror 'hath and to spare'. But since the
right to self-preservation is indefeasible, it follows that the
conqueror who does not 'have and to spare' is no longer bound
by the restriction; he, like individual men in the state of
nature, is obliged to consider the plight of others only if his
'own preservation comes not in competition'.2 Thus although
Locke never tires of repeating the principle that the law of
nature 'willeth the peace and preservation of all mankind',J
he also nearly always qualifies it to read 'as much as possible'
or 'as much as may be'.4 In the particular case at hand, i t
follows, as Locke points out, that 'the children of the van­
quished'-which is to say those who are most innocent of any
1 Trc•h·iet, ll, sec. 183. • Ibid. II, se<:. 6.
> Ibid. II, ice. 7. • See svpra, Ch. 3, pp. 83-85.
PRACTICAL IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW OF NATURE 171
violation of the law of nature-may legitimately be left 'to
starve and perish'.1 Put more generally, it means that the
distinction between the 'innocent' and the 'guilty' disappears
when the conditions approach that of the truly natural condi­
tion; for if all men truly have an equal right to be preserved,
then it is impossible to say that certain men have a better
right to be preserved than others.
In effect, then, the distinction of principle which Locke
repeatedly makes between 'just' and 'unjust' conquest dis­
appears whenever the situation of governments and their
peoples becomes really desperate. Even when the extreme
situation does not prevail, it is evident that the common­
wealth is placed in a precarious position by the absence of a
known, settled law, an impartial judge, and of overwhelming
force to carry out such a judgement even if it could be made.
n
i The state of nature between commonwealths is one of un­
ending though irregular oscillation between actual war and
uneasy peace. And in the latter intervals, it i� in the nature of
sovereigns to eye each other with a suspicious, even hostile
scrutiny, since 'every the least difFerence'2 in the state of
nature may easily end in a contest of force. \Ve must now
consider the overall impact this fact makes upon the struc­
ture and objectives of political society, in Locke's view.
( The 1Vatural Primacy of Foreign Policy
By starting from the premise that the individual's first care
and most natural desire is to be safe, Locke arrives at the
conclusion that the assertion of the commonwealth against
foreign enemies is an essential characteristic of political
society as such. That is why, in defining 'political power', he
includes, as an element which is coeval with the right to
make laws for the internal ordering of the society, the right
to employ 'the force of the community . . . in the defence of
the commonwealth from foreign injury . . .'.3 Furthermore,
it is primarily because the law of nature-so rational in
I T�a.11i�
r 1, 11, sec. 184. 2. Jb�d. 11. ,�. :.1. > Ibid. II, sec. 3.
 THE ECONOMY OF POWER
principle but so lacking in effective force-fails to protect the
commonwealth, that Locke's view of political society ulti­
mately rests upon the conception that foreign policy is
decisive, or that it is the final determinate of the objectives
and internal organization of the political society.
The link between the premise that man's first desire is to
be safe and the premise of the primacy of foreign over in­
ternal policy is simply Locke's doctrine of the 'original
compact', which determines the powers and ends of the
commonwealth in terms of the natural powers and ends of
individuals. \Vithin the society, the individual is protected,
at least most of the time, by the civil law, the police, and the
courts. But then the most urgent concern of the body
politic as a whole is for external security:
Since . . . those who liked one another so well as to join inro society
i their [the people'sJ inward strength against foreign inva­
cannot but be supposed to have some acquantance and friendship
together and some trust one in another, they could not but have greater
apprehensions of others than of one another; and therefore theirfirst
(ar1 and thtJught cannot but be supposed to be how to secure themselves
againstforeign force.•
The language here, which emphatically states the primacy
of the concern for external security, is strikingly parallel to
those passages in the First Treatise in which Locke insists
that the desire for self-preservation is the 'first and foremost
desire' of t11e individual. This point is reinforced, further­
more, by the fact that in chapter viii of the Second Treatise,
the central passages on the 'beginnings' of political society
emphasize the primary role of early 'kings' as that of 'cap­
tains in war' and 'leaders of their armies'.2 Although this
function may no longer be personally performed by the
'princes' and 'rulers' of civil society, the fact remains that it
is they who are most directly concerned with the proper
operation of the 'federative' power, which is the formal
institutional expression of the irreducible requirement of
external security.
1 Trutiw, II, sec. 107 (emrhuis supplied}. J. Ibid. ti, !et.I. 108, tog, J 10�
THE NATURAL PRIMACY OF FOREIGN POLICY 173
Locke says, in effect, by his assertion of the primary con­
cern for security, that the right internal ordering of political
society is determined, in the final analysis, by considerations
of the power and wealth necessary to carry out an effective
foreign policy and make war. Since the law of nature in and
of itself cannot provide protection, and since the first and
most urgent concern of the commonwealth necessarily is to
be secure, the only feasible alternative is to rely on its own
forces as much as possible. It is in this light that one must
understand the terse statement in which Locke says that the
i
remedy for depredations within society sthe duly promul­
gated civil law, but that t11e only effective remedy for the
evil of hostile violence from without lies in 'arms, riches, and
multitudes of citizens'. It is the task of the 'supreme power'
to make provision, 'as much as possible, for the increase of
sions' .1 The crucial point is this: Since the 'first care and
thought' of the commonwealth as a whole is that of external
security, the necessary amount of arms, riches, and people is
determined not by criteria derived from a notion of the
natural internal limits of a good society but by a comparison
with the power and wealth of the actual or potential enemies
of any commonwealth in question. Moreover, since Locke (
points out that inferiority or even equality of power invites
attack and makes defence and retaliation difficult, the objec­
tive of a government must be to amass not simply a rough
equality of power and wealth, but, whenever possible, a
definite superiority relative to other statcs.1 But the striving
for such an objective cannot fail to have a great impact on the
internal organization and ends of the economic system, the
number and occupation of the citizens, and the extent and
relative importance of the military apparatus. Hence, the
theoretical subordination of internal policy to foreign policy
means that important aspects of the internal structure of
1 ,f ufl<r CoMn•i•t Toluui... (Wori1, •· 4...,.3).
, Tre.�lises, n, JCCI. 4!1 105, 115, 136, 137, 176; CO"lt.i;/�ra.t�1ct1 lt!mu.J (fP,rh, iv.
1 3-1s. 4-9-5!); Fut41r l�,,,.,,<Jn-111i9cl �" A1�iu,J (T At, iv. 148).
or
l'
, ,. THE ECONOMY OF POWER
political society are ultimately dependent-and from Locke's
perspective, ought to be-on the demands of accumulating
,Power for meeting external threats.
Locke's position on the primacy of foreign policy may be
more fully appreciated by considering for a moment the
opposite point of view, which was held by classical political
philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle. They taught that
the good legislator should order the institutions and laws of
the society primarily with respect to the demands of internal
peace and the full development of man's nature-that s i,
with respect to the production of the good life, or the most
natural life, the highest manifestation of which is the life
of contemplation. Conversely, the problem of providing
for defence against foreign attack, although recognized as a
problem, is decisively of secondary importance in so far as
the definition of political society and its natural limits are
concerned. Hence, the factors of size, location, economic
system, population, and training or education are all viewed
in terms of the i111er11ai limits of the good political society,
which is to say the natural limits of such a society. For
instance, political society ought to be just large and diverse
enough to achieve self-sufficiency defined in terms of the
good life; it ought, therefore, to be small and simple enough
so as not to exceed the definitely limited, natural human
capacity for friendship and trust. Its economic system should
be based on the principle that the production of wealth is
naturally limited by the needs of the good life. Its system of
education should be based on the principle that man's
natural end and condition is one of leisure or peace, and that
the actualization of that condition is to be achieved by the
agpropriate training from childhood.1
The difference between I, ocke and the classical philo­
sophers regarding the relative importance of external and
internal policy in determining the proper limits and the
proper organization of political society may ultimately be
traced to their different views regarding the natural condition
• Pl.to, Lnus, 618, 704-51 740; Aristotle, Pol11ic1, bk. vii.
THE NATURAL PRIMACY OF FOREIGN POI.ICY 175
of man and the ends of government. Plato and Aristotle
argue that man's natural condition is the life within political
society, which is essentially the condition of peace, and that
the end of political society (or at least of the best regime) is
essentially the perfection of man's nature. They therefore
conclude that the good political society is a small, self­
sufficient entity, in which the requirements of foreign policy
are fundamentally subordinate to the requirements of the
good life, defined as the life of virtue. Locke, on the other
hand, argues that the natural condition of man is the pre­
political state of nature, which is the state of war; that man's
first care and most natural desire is to be safe; and that the
end of government, since it is established by contract, is
essentially to secure the members in their lives, liberties,
and possessions. And since the commonwealth remains in
the nearly lawless state of nature, the prime concern for
security passes from the individual to the political society as
such, a concern which centres on the development of that
which is so miserably wanting in the original state of nature :
power.'
The Economic.s of Security
Locke's thesis of the primacy of foreign policy is reflected
in particular terms in his advocacy of public policies designed
to build up and to maintain the economic power of a nation
relative to others. llis writings on interest and money­
which really are short tracts on political economy-reveal
that Locke was basically a mercantilist.' He attached over­
riding importance to trade as a means for promoting both
the wealth and the power of the country. This dimension of
his thought is revealed as early as 1674, when he wrote in his
Journal :
The chief end of trade is riches and power, which beget each other.
Riches consists in plenty of mo\'eablcs, that will yield a price to
foreigners, and are not likely to be consumed at home, but especially
in plenty of gold and silver. Power consists in numbers of men, and
• S« Noce X. p. 113.
 THE ECONOMY O F POWER
ability to maintain them. Trade conduces to both these by increasing
your stock and your people, and they each other.
Trade is two-fold. 1. Domestic manufacture. Whereby is to be
understood all labor employed by your people in preparing commodi­
ties for the consumption either of your own people . . . or offoreigners.
2. Carriage, i.e., navigation and merchandise.
People also are two-fold. r . Those that contribute any way to your
trade, especially in commodities for exportation, the chief whereof are
i husbandry,drapcry,and mincsand navigation. 2. Such
men employed n
asareeither idle and so do not help, or which is worse, hinder trade . . . .•
Locke alludes in these notes to the mechanism of the
balance of trade; and in his economic treatises, published in
the 1 69o's, the principles of that mechanism are more fully
developed. Briefly stated, Locke says that 'riches and money'
are got and kept in any country only by 'consuming less of
foreign commodities, than what by commodities, or labour,
is paid for'.2 Thus a country is able, by developing a favour­
able balance of trade, to draw to itself from other countries a
quantity of gold and silver equal to the value of the excess
THE ECONOMICS OF SECURITY 177
will decline, the country will become poorer' and its power
will decline. t
�
here is a second important reason for a country to
achieve a favourable balance of trade and that has to do with
?
the a v�ntage to be gained from maintaining a relative
supenonty of monetary wealth over other countries. This
Locke indicates when he says:
Ri �es do no� c.onsist in having more gold and silver, but in having
m11n 111 pr()portum than tht rut of tht ttJorld, or than our n1ighbours,
whereb! we are enabled to procure to ourselves a greater plenty ofthe
conveniences of life, than comes within the reach of neig hbourina
kingdoms and states, who, sharing the gold and silver of the world in :
less proportion, want Iht mtans ofplmty andpowtr, and so are poorer.•
More specifically, Locke says that a country which has a
much larger stock of the precious metals than its neighbours
may thereby also acquire a marked advantage over them in
terms of economic and military power-always provided
that the wealthier country employs its stock of money in

of exports over imports. Hut the accumulation of gold and maintaining a productive internal economy. First, its greater
silver is not an end in itself. On the contrary, one main wealth and thriving trade enable it to maintain a propor­
tionately larger military force without damage to its economy.
objective of the policy is to accumulate and maintain a
Secondly, it can, through offering higher wages, tempt arti­
sufficient supply of money to drive trade within the country.
sans, sailors, and other valuable people away from the
For money, according to Locke, serves both as a medium of
poorer countries. In that case, the benefit to the wealthier
exchange and as capital. lts proper use, therefore, is to de­
nation is double, for it decreases the valuable manpower
velop the internal economy-as in the investment in produc­
supply of its neighbours while at the same time adding that
�ion of manufactured goods for home use and export, the
much more to its own. And Locke says that 'numbers of men
improvement ofland and production offoodstuff s the extrac­
tion of raw materials, and the like. This being s , it follows � are to be preferred to largeness of dominions' since the man­
power can be used to increase economic productivity as well
that whenever the sup_Ply of gold and silver is appreciably
as to serve in the military forces. Thirdly, by its superior
reduced by the necessity to export these metals in settling
financial resources and high productivity such a country can
unfavourable trade balances, the internal economy as a whole
'command the market' of its less wealthy neighbours, there­
!L�c �SS., c. ;o, folt. 18 and 19. Loe.kc'• intauc i ter�t in c..hc problem of trade is
n
by 'breaking' their 'trade'. The result, in turn, is to further
c
r nec l h 1 notebook.a, Joumalt and auloC\'e o( boob. The l11ttu contain• listings ofat
ted u 1
lcs.st tw�ty worb on tndc, commuct, money, •nd relattJ topics, among tbem the wo.rlc$ of drain off their gold and silver supply because of the con­
Davcnant, Petty, Child, Mun, 1t1id Cary. t.lor�·cr, bis notebooks co:it�n many entries on
tradt, money,coin.age, atld the like,in addition to c:cccrptJ uken from important mercantilist
tinuing necessity to settle unfavourable trade balances with
lr>c:tJ. S... Lockc MSS.,c. 5, fol&. 14, 16, 19, 21;<. 3,f.U. •7»¥6-J; f. 14,fol 113• l C01'ridtr11tic1tt Otr /.10Ct.J (Jl'4ri1, i•. :i.-z J, 19�JS; ,.,.,.,. c�ruitlP'AtrtJr.t t;n A.fen�
2 C011.1itl�r1Jtioru o. Mt11U7 (ll'or!s, i1'. �r). (Wr;rl1, i•. :+i-.Sf.). i Ct,'lf1itltrdl�1t1 011 /.1'"9 (IYor!t, i•. 13 [cm;>h.uis suppliodD.
eos� "
 17& THE ECO.NOMY OF POWER
shipments of bullion. Hence, the initial advantage of the
wealthy state becomeseven greater, whereas the less wealthy
countries become even poorer and more depressed. Finally,
the wealthy country can, because of its great gold and silver
reserves, speedily build up and maintain the various 'naval
and warlike stores' necessary to fight a war; but the poorer
countries are at a definite disadvantage, since they lack the
financial resources to compete for such supplies.I
vVhat is of concern to us here is not the technical mechan­
ism of the balance of trade, but rather the apparent fact­
and its implications-that the advantage which one country
gains from a favourable balance is liable to involve a dis­
advantage for some other country, at least in the short run.
Locke recognizes and accepts that consequence as an in­
evitable part of the competitive struggle for advantage. It
results from the more basic fact that the ultimate objective
of a country's external policy is and must be to establish­
in so far as its resources will permit-a relative superiority
of economic and military power 'ViJ-a-vis other states. For if,
alternatively, a country should fail for some reason to exert
the P.rope: efforts to acquire and maintain a favourable power
. In this respect England is particularly fortunate, in that its
pos1t1on, it may be sure that other countries will soon take
advantage of its weakness and indifference, very likely to its
own great peril.2 In other words, the very nature of relations
among sovereign commonwealths leaves little room for
choice as to whether a government will or will not engage in
�he general c�mp�titi?n for power and advantage, with all
its attendant 1mphcatJons. Every government is under the
greatest necessity to do so because economic and military
powerarc the only effective bulwarks against external threats.
Since the security of the commonwealth is dependent on
the power it possesses in relation to other commonwealths,
�
t e demand for security is, if extended to its logical conclu­
s1on, a demand for practically unlimited power. For in
1 Conslr!erntiom �" Mtn$:f (Works, iv. 50) ; FurtAtr Conridtratt'fint on /t1onq (Worlu' iv·
148). See 'fr;af11tt, ll. t.cc. 4!.
a Locke poinCt thit out in tile caseof
Spaia•s decline. See C�111ldl.ra1iotu '" A10t;$J, pattim.
.
THE ECONOMICS OF SECU RtTY •7?
theory, no state can ev�r consider itself as completely safe
.
u
nl css 1t possesses not JUSt a bare margin of power over its
.
rivals, but an overwhelming superiority relative to all other
states or combinations of staces. In that case, the danger of
attack would be practically non-existent. Yet power on such
a scale is practically unattainable i f one excludes-as Locke
does-a deliberate policy of world conquest. But what is
.
both desirable and possible is the policy of accumulating
wealth and power through thrift, industry, and trade. For the
re�t, every state must look to th e possibility of leagues and
alliances as an unstable but often indispensable source of
auxiliary strength. 1
In so far as particular kinds of power are concerned, Locke
argues that sea power is preferable to land power, both from
the viewpoint of its use in commerce and in warfare. Sea
power is more flexible and far-ranging than land power. It
affords direct access to raw materials, finished goods, deposits
of gold and silver, and unclaimed territories in all parts of the
globe. It is less expensive to maintain than are large standing
armies; the latter not only cost a great deal to supply, but
they also drain away manpower from productive activity.2
natural situation and traditions have lent impetus to its
emergence as a commercial power :
. . . for this [i.e., commerce] the advantages of our situation, as well as
the industry and inclination of our people, bold and skilful at sea, do
naturally fit us: by this the nation of England has been hitherto sup­
ported, and trade left almost to itself, and assisted only by the natural
advantages . . . brought us in plenty of riches, and always set this
kingdom in a rank eqwtl, if not superior to any of its neighbours; and
would, no doubt, without any difficulty, have continued it so, if the
more enlarged and better-understood interest of trade, since the im­
provement of navigation, had not raised us many rivals . . . .3
Thus Locke's interest in the balance of trade was not simply
r Tr1ati111, Jr. se t. 14, 146.
c
1 Co,11id1rar1�n1 on M�q (TYorR:t iv. 21); Locke 1\1SS., c. 30, fol I 9.
Co1't1dfr4t1'on.1 r>n MIJtf� (IYcrk1, iv. t3-1+)·
l
 1 80 THE ECONOMY OF POWER
theoretical ; he was concerned to show how England, through
proper fiscal and economic policies, could meet the challenge
to her commercial position which was being offered by
Holland, France, and Spain. 1 He also, by his frequent re­
ferences to the Americas-sparsely populated but of im­
mense potential wealth-pointed out one of the key routes
to commercial supremacy, and offered a theoretical justifica­
tion for the appropriation of such areas on the grounds that
they lay in a 'waste' condition of nature.
Economic Power and the Political Problem
Effective economic development, however, depends in the
final analysis on the quality of the political r�gime-that is,
on the existence of a farm of government which will liberate
the potential skills and productivity of a people, and which
will therefore produce both security and the comforts men
by nature desire. According to Locke, there is no better
evidence of the defectiveness of absolute monarchy than the
fact that, under such a system, 'improvements' in the 'arts
and sciences and the conveniences of life' are practically
non-existent. With heavy sarcasm, he urges advocates for
such a form of government to consider well those
. . . large and rich countries which are happy under the Turkish
Government, where are not now to be found one-third, nay, in rnaoy,
if not most parts of them, one-thinieth, perhaps I might say, not one­
hundredth of the people that were formerly, as will easily appear to
any one who will compare the accounts we have of it at this time with
ancient history.•
""".Jhe !E5>t2,f the difficulty�at J!len, under absolute mon­
archy,,_arc...treated, in effe�)�s slav
�S1 ana are In aperpetual
state of latentQ!._open war with the_monarch.'{i'hey have no
_guarantee of lif§, lioerty,_ orprope_rJy_,__ and therefore no stake
in the well-being of the political society as a wholeJ. It i s
small wonder, then, that the arts, sciences, and conveniences
1 Con.1itl1ra1t'o111 l>l'I Money (WorAt, iv. &-t7).
i Trtotistt, l, 5cc. 33. ' Ibid. 11, 1cc1. :z.01-10.
ECONOMIC POWER AND THE POLITICAL PRODLEM 1g,
of life, upon which the power and therefore the security of
the society depends, must languish.
But in a polity founded upon the principles which Locke
sets forth, quite the opposite would be true. Recognition of
the right to life, liberty, and property not only conduces to
the individual's satisfaction but to the development of power
as well.I Take, for instance, the crucial problem of the
guarantee of the right to property. As we hav� seen the
things w�ic� nature supp .lies to _l_!l�are
_practically
_ w�r_!.h:.,._ ./
Jess, and It IS On
ly bytn c:_1r transformation, tnrough numan
labour, that they come to be valuable. This means, as Locke
readily points out, that the mere possession of vast lands by
a commonwealth is oLlittle_value, unless there also are
numbers of men to exert their_l abour upon those lands, and
to draw out all those things really useful for the satisfaction
of men's desires. But a system of government which reduces
men to the status of slaves cannot induce them, even though
they arc numerous, to contribute effectively to the wealth
and power of the society. Hence •it follows from Locke's
basic premises that
. . . the increase oflands and the right ofemploying of them is the great ,. �
art of government; and that prince who shall be so wise and godlike ,..
as by established laws of liberty to secure protection and encourage-
_jj
""
ment to the honest industry of mankind, against the oppression of
power and narrowness of party, will quiclly be too hardfor hi1 n1igh-
bour1 . . . .1
\\'hen properly viewed, which is to say within the context
of Locke's whole argument concerning the legitimate basis
of political power, the foregoing is perhaps one of the most
revealing passages in the Two Trentises of Government. In
spite of its terseness, it states as clearly as one can wish, first,
the vital, even organic, connexion which Locke makes be­
'
tween the conditions of liberty and the conditions of power
and, therefore, of security-above all, that security which
is indispensable to the individual and to political society as
1 Trtatists, 11, �«·. 4-2 (c.m.phtliJ supplied).
 ECONOMIC POWER A N O THE POLITICAL PROBLEl\'l 183
181 THE ECONOMY O F POWER
and misery; of potential plenty but actual penury; of poten­
a whole: defence against foreign injury. Second, it supplies .
tial peace but act�al anarchy. The remedy for this condition,
the heart of Locke's answer to the problem of what mav .
,' however, which 1s the establishment of separate political
legitimately be expected, according to nature, to settle mcn s
orders, simply transfers the problem of the state of nature
consciences as to who should have political power. Clearly,
to the second dimension : the underlying, if not always fully
men such as the 'wise and godlike prince' whom Locke
eulogizes in this passage have the best title to political
�
actual, state o anarchy a_mong sovereign commonwealths,
ea� o�e of which by the rtg�t of n�ture pursues its own end,
' power, precisely because they would build upon the solid
which 1s to say, the preservatton of its own being, and with it,
foundation ofwhat men have a right to by nature, which is to
that of the members who form its substance. Thus both
say that which they most passionately desire: the secure
parts of I .ocke's original definition of political power-that
enjo�ent of life, li�erty, and property. Third and finally,
. is, the power to use the 'force of the community' in the 'de­
occurrmg as 1t does m the crucial chapter on property, the
fence of the commonwealth', as well as the power to make
passage establishes the reciprocality, as between ruler and
laws and to use force to execute them-can be properly
ruled, of the principle that labour puts the greatest value on
understood only by reference to Locke's idea of the state of
everything. For if it is the labour and industry of the
nature. But that idea, in turn, while essentially consistent,
members of political society which will transform the almost
fully reveals its consistency only when we trace to its roots
worthless materials of nature into the wealth and material
the conception of'nature' on which Locke's political thought
power necessary to man's security and delectation, so it is
as a whole rests.
the labour a�d industry of the wise and godlike prince which
must be relied upon to frame, establish, and maintain the
laws by which and under the protection of which all this is
possible.· But what, then, are we to say of Locke's labour and
ind:istry:? ls it no� he who has )aid bare the principles upon
which such a prmce might proceed? Is not he the true
foun�e� of the commonwealth as it ought to be formed?
And 1s 1t not he, then, to whom the greatest reward is due?
�Vith these re�arks, we have returned to the problem with
which we began m Chapter '2 : the connexion between the idea
of the state of nature and the foundations of political power.
As we saw there, the problem appears at two levels of
thoug�t:thatofthe political teachingwhich would satisfy men's
consciences, an·d· that o.f the underlying argument by which
Locke, as a pohucal philosopher, supports the basic elements
�
of at t�aching. But it also, as it turns out, is a problem
. two dimensions of reality: that of the
whic h extsts m original
state of nature, and that of the state of nature among the
commonwealths of the world. The original condition is as
we have seen, one of potential power but actual weak ess �

CONCLU SION
T 1-1 E question of the status of war and peace between states
is, for Locke, ultimately the question of what man is and
what he possesses by nature. This is also to say that Locke
does not, strictly speaking, possess a 'theory of interna­
tional relations' which may be abstracted from his political
philosophy as a whole; his reflections upon the nature of
relations among states constitute an integral part of his re­
flections upon the nature of political society, and can only
be understood as such.
This particular way of thinking is today vastly uncon­
genial, for political philosophy as such, in the sense in which
Locke understands it, exists under a shadow. Consequently,
even those who-rightfully in my opinion-advocate a
reintegration of political philosophy and the study of inter­
national relations tend not infrequently to insist upon re­
ducing tbe political philosophy of the past into terms which
arc alien to it.1 We are urged, in effect, to read the great
political philosophers of earlier centuries through refracting
lenses, which have been ground and polished by latter-day
social scientists, or by more 'scientific' philosophers. The
result may be simply a transmutation of certain elements
abstracted from the traditional theorists, and their adaptation
to a perspective which is essentially alien to them.
However this may be, the fact is tbat a paradox exists
today with respect to Locke's conception of the nature of
foreign relations. As I stated at the beginning of this study,
no particular attention has ever been directed to a systematic
appraisal of the connexion between Locke's theory of poli­
tical society and his theory of the state of nature among
states. All the more curious then that it has become nearly a
commonplace in contemporary writing on the theory of
• Sec Note Y, p. 21+
CONCLUSION 185
international relations to reduce theoretical conceptions of
foreign relations to two fundamentally antithetical types:
the Hobbesian and the T .ockeian.1 Thus it recently has been
argued that
No expectations regarding the conduct of nations can be formulated
that are not affected by either the optimistic hunch of a Locke, who
entertained the belief that 'calm reason and conscience' would guide
the behavior of most men, or the pessimistic hunch of a Hobbes, to
whom man appeared obsessed by fear and greediness.•
This dichotomy rests, in turn, upon the generally-held con­
viction that Locke conceives of the state of nature essentially
as one of peace and good will, a conviction which may be
stated more broadly as follows: Locke's tbeory of man and
political society is basically a continuation, in spite of certain
modifications, of the natural-law theory of the sixteenth and
early seventeenth centuries. He believed, along with such
predecessors as Grotius and Hooker, that the law of nature,
which is the law of reason, conforms to and is in fact derived
from a pre-ordained order-that is, an order which is in
nature itself, or more particularly, which is established in
nature by God. This natural order, which is in no way
dependent upon man's will or effort for its existence-in­
deed, man is but part of that order-is essentially one of
peace and harmony. Peace, therefore, is primary and natural,
whereas war, disorder, and discord are, by the same reason­
ing, secondary and unnatural ; war is defined only in terms
of its natural and fundamental antithesis, which is peace.
The central question this study has raised and sought to
answer is whether this interpretation of Locke's political
philosophy is adequate, and the validity of the answer which
' Other Corm.a of thia antithesis are th� pairinp of •utopian' and 'ruli•t", .-idealist' md
•realist', 'r:atlo:ialist' and "prasmatic', &c.
� Wolfers, op. cil. (Sotc Y, p. :14), p. xi•. For other examples in the recent literature
1ee: J. L. Brierly, TAI 841is cf OMit"'"'" '" l•ttl'utte111tl !Aw {OxJord: Al the Chrcndon
Prcu, 1958), pp. 16, 28, 30, JH lnls L. Claude, Jr., S.-th Into P h- 1
..A..
m (New York:
Random HouS<, 19;6), pp. 58, i:o, 415, 416, 4>8, .µ9; S1>Dlcy Hoffman, 'Tbe Role
cf lolunational Organiution: l.imi(t and Potsibilitict•, l•ttr 11
3n'1WI
· Oriattn:i1ic11, x
(Augu« 1956), 36o; HatU J. Moraen1hau, Po/11k1 A•""l Nati<ot (2nd ed.; New York:
A!f...,d A. Kuopf, 1954), P· >06.
186 CONCLUSION
has been supplied depends in a decisive way, as I am
aware, on the distinction I have made between Locke's
philosophical argument and his general political doctrine.
In a sense, then, the real issue is how Locke meant his
Two Treatises of Government to be read. That they were
meant to be and have been read as a political tract for the
times is undeniable. This does not, however, preclude the
possibility that they were also meant to convey a philosophical
analysis of the basis of political society-and more particu­
larly, an analysis which goes beyond and may even partially
contradict the broad outlines of his general political doctrine,
but which ultimately provides the justification for the central
elements of that doctrine. Indeed, given the stature of
Locke as a philosopher, it would be imprudent simply to
assume that this is not or could not be his ultimate intention.
The question is, then, whether the Two Treatises were written
with such an intention in mind, and if so, how the reader is
meant to discover and then to understand the relation be­
tween the different levels of meaning. In answering this
question, I have sought as much as possible to let Locke
himself be my guide ; I have tried, in short, to follow his
principle that the 'true meaning' of an author's works is to
be 'gathered from thence with stubborn attention, and more
than common application'.
As for the application of this principle to an elucidation
of the substance of Locke's philosophical argument: So
long as one assu1nes that Locke, because of his seeming
dependence on Hooker, views man as being by nature
'social' and 'rational', just so long is it plausible to assume
that he understands peace as primary and war as derivative.
But if, as I have argued is indeed the case, Locke does not in
fact so view man, then the concept and the status of peace
necessarily undergo a profound change. It is the 'beginning',
or original condition of man, which is characterized by
Locke as being truly 'natural'. It is a condition in which
man's being is narrowed to a perception of-even a blind
and passionate realization of-the immediacy and the
CONCLUSION
importunity of the desires, and of the stark situation in which
he is placed by the spontaneous hand of nature, for nature
itself provides practically nothing for the gratification of
those desires. Still, there is a certain ordering in the desires,
an ordering which provides the basis of rights and the motive
power for whatever salvation may be achieved. Since the
first and the strongest desire is to be safe, the greatest evil
must be death; although there is not, strictly speaking, a
natural e11d toward which man qua man is directed, there is a
negative guide provided by nature. Men are impelled, by
their desires, to escape the constant threat of death-that is,
to tlee the original or natural condition, which is one of
violence and penury.
(
Thus although the law of nature originally is said by
Locke to 'will' peace, the fundamental fact of nature proves
to be, upon careful retlection, that nature as such does not
provide the conditions by which peace might be established,
let alone maintained. Peace can be defined only in terms of its
natural antithesis, which is w:ir. Peace, therefore, is un­
natural and derivative; it is established only by moving away
from nature. Nature provides 110 solution to man's problem,
except in the sense that it supplies the mechanism of the
passions, which impel men to escape the natural condition,
and certain raw materials which, when properly manipu­
lated, conduce to that escape.
Peaq�_ is, therefore, in Locke's conception, a12...a_t
r ifice of
men. They create or fashion it, first, by the act of combining
all their wills in a single, powerful 'public will', in order that
there may come to be a known, settled law, a known judge,
and finally, power to enforce the judgements once made.
Peace, at this level, is dependent upon a mere convention :
the original compact by which men agree, as a matter of
mutual security, to rely on a central power organized on
principles which will secure their lives, liberties, and proper­
ties as much as possible, but not absolutely. Peace, or the
possibility thereof, is dependent, secondly, upon the labour
of men. It is they 'vho wrest from the almost worthless raw
188 CONCLUSION
materials supplied by nature an existence which is more or
less secure, more or less comfortable, in direct proportion
to the extent of their labour and industry. However, this
transformation or conquest of nature will not take place
effectively unless the products of men's labours are guaran­
teed to them. It is in this context that Locke's doctrine of the
right to property may be seen to be truly central to his
political philosophy. On the one hand, economic activity
of the sort indicated is as indispensable to the removal of
men from the condition of penury as it is to the mounting
of power and wealth for protection against force from with­
out. On the other hand, the level of economic activity neces­
sary to effectively achieve these purposes can be reached
only within a properly conceived political framework, which
is to say a framework within which labour and industry are
given their just deserts.
Peace in the sense of which we have been speaking of it
is confined, however, to the ordered activity within a poli­
tical society. \Vithout, there remains the state of nature. It
might be possible, of course, by extrapolating to a condition
in which all political societies arc perfectly equally endowed,
highly developed, and organi1,ed on Lockeian principles, to
posit a theoretical pacification of international relations. This
seems, in fact, to be the construction put on liberal doctrine
at a later period, especially in the nineteenth century, by
reason of the abstract idea of a 'natural harmony of interests'.1
It is very misleading, however, to transfer that idea as such
to Locke. For it ignores, or at least blurs, the underlying
reality as Locke conceived of it: that the state of nature
between sovereign commonwealths is in fact a vestige of the
original state of nature which, so far
from being a state of
plenty and harmony of interests, is one of extreme penury
and conBict. Or to put the point somewhat differently, it
confuses that which is for Locke the product of man's
1 For e:umplet, see Ca.rr, op. cit. (Note U, p. 111), part ii; H.t.ns J. �1orgc:ntbau"
Sci�at�� Afu �1. Pou.V-r Poli1ic1 (London: Latimer HouJc. Lt
d
.• r947}; \Yaltcr Schiffer,
The ur;•l c-•ilJ ofMon.i:i•d (Now York: Columbia Univcnity Pre.,, r954).
CONCLUSION 189
partial triumph over the anarchy of nature in accordance
with principles elaborated by human effort-the order, that
is, to be found within political societies-with an order which
is conceived of, in the later development of liberal thought,
as being by and in nature, independently of human will
or effort. It therefore also ignores what is to Locke the
essential fact concerning sovereigns: that they are, by right
of nature, judge and executioner of the natural law of nations,
and that law is grounded in the ultimate and irreducible
primacy of rights over duties. Thus peace, as such, has no
natural foundation-whether it be the peace produced by
the artifice of political society, or the peace produced by the
temporary cessation of hostilities between sovereign com­
monwealths.
Given the near anarchy of international relations as Locke
conceives of them, it might well be asked why he did not
take the next seemingly logical step and advocate a world­
state, or at least an international 'organization' Indeed, the }
editor of the Hafner edition of the Two Treatises, in one of
the few passages in the literature on Locke to raise a ques­
tion concerning the implications of his notion of a state of
nature among commonwealths, says : ' . . . if all [common­
wealthsJ enjoyed natural rights, and if it was necessary to
have a judge to interpret those rights, the need for a world
organization followed inevitably. Locke in no wise con­
fronted this issue'. 1 The writer does not make clear what
sort of 'world organization' he has in mind, but it does not
matter greatly, for1Locke's own basic principle is that nothing
but the institution of a sovereign power can end the state of
nature between men. Short of this, an international organiza­
tion would still lack the three decisive elements necessary to
bring about a rule of law: a known, settled-i.e. positive­
law, an impartial judge, and overwhelming power to enforce
the decisions rendered on the basis of that law. There is, in
other words, no suggestion in Locke that the attempt
r Tu.'O Trtaris.11�/C"'.:trftltlllt1l , ed. Thom•t 1. Cook(��"' \•ork: Hafnu Publishing Co.,
1956), P· ni
ii.
190 CONCLUSION
to partially introduce the techniques and institutions of civil
government into relations among governments would be of
decisive importance. So long as each state retains its power
to judge in its own case, and the force to back up that
judgement, Locke's principles suggest that no intermediary
arrangement can be successful.
As to why he did not then advocate a world-state or world­
commonwealth, no categorical answer is possible. There are,
however, these facts to consider. In the first place, Locke
certainly was aware of the implications of his own principles,
and therefore capable of envisaging a world-state. If he had
thought such a state to be eirher possible or desirable, one
would expect him to indicate that fact. \\/hat he does say
leads one to believe that, in fact, he rejected such a possi­
bility : '. . . since all princes and rulers of independent
governments all through the world are in a state of nature,
it is plain the world never was, nor ever will be, without
numbers of men in that state'.1
Furthermore, Locke says that men are under the 'neces­
sity' to separate themselves from the rest of mankind 'and
by positive agreements combine into smaller and divided
associations'.2 This statement, in itself, implicitly rejects the
possibility of combining the whole world into one common­
wealth. And again, Locke underscores this point when he
says : •. . . the end why people entered into society being to
be prescr'l!cd one entire, free, independent society, to be
governed by its own laws, this is lost whenever they are
given up into the power of another'.3 This passage seems to
suggest that no government as such has the power-even
ifit were so inclined-to terminate its independent existence,
since no such power was given to it by the members. Thus
men not only are under the necessity to live in separate
states, but they also choose to live so, even when that
means the continuation of the state of nature with other
states. And it is easy to imagine why the larger, more powerful
1 Tr�a11'k1, 111 kC. •+ (cmphatit supplied).
2 Ibid. II, oec. uB. , Ibid. II, scc. 217 (emph.,i.,uppli<d).
CONCLUSION 191
states should be much less concerned with the problem
than their smaller, weaker neighbours.
The only alternative to creation of a world-commonwealth
by consent is to create it by conquest. But Locke rejects
conquest as a legitimate means of beginning a government.
He also indicates that history shows practically no examples
in which empire was re.'llly enduring, even in antiquity,
when the known world was very much smaller than in the
seventeenth century. In fact, Locke hints that there is an
inevitable, although irregular and unpredictable, historical
movement in which empires are consolidated and then rus­
solved or destroyed-whether from within or without seems
to make little difference. For instance, in his treatment of
the beginnings of political societies, Locke says that 'in the
beginning' there were a 'number of petty commonwealths
. . . which always multiplied as long as there was room
enough till the stronger or more fortunate swallowed the
weaker, and those great ones again breaking to pieces dis­
solved into lesser dominions'.' And he points to the Americas
as a 'pattern of the first ages in Asia and Europe', where
'petty' kingdoms were even then being absorbed into larger
empires, and to Spain as a declining imperial power, her
place being taken by England, France, and Holland.2
Finally, the very fact that Locke had lived through a long
period of bloody civil war must have made him doubt the
ability of any state apparatus always to withstand internal
dissensions. Yet civil war within a single, relatively homo­
geneous society would be a minor threat compared to the
tensions which certainly would develop among [he radically
different societies which actually made up the world as he
knew it. Thus we are always Jed back to the permanence of
the state of nature between commonwealths.
Given this fact, Locke says, in effect, that the observance
of the restrictive principles of the law of nature among
1 Tr�afis,ts, 111 let. J 15 {empha.-it tupp(jcd).
2 Ibid. 1, S«t. 130-2; u. f«L •4-, + 1, 91, 105, 108; Co1uultra1hlts fJff Af,,.q (IP'uls,i¥.
13-18).
 CONCLUSION
commonwealths would greatly benefit mankind, but that
that law is really unenforceable and therefore cannot effec­
tively protect the innocent and punish the guilty. One may
say that he views the actual standard of international be­
haviour as one which is set by the tendency of the least law­
abiding. Precarious and uneasy 'peace' may be obtained
through the counter-balancing of pcwer, b_ut it is no m?re
natural a peace than is that only potential peace which
'belongs' to men in the original state of nature.
In these circumstances, the objective or end of external
security being given, the practical problem is, of course, to
develop particular policies toward that end. Thus what
Locke refers to as the 'prudence' of those who exercise the
executive-federative rower of government emerges as a
factor of crucial importance in the conduct of foreign rela­
tions. This being the case, it is necessary to conclude with a
consideration of Locke's conception of 'prudence'. That
conception flows from the distinction he makes between
political philosophy and political action :
Policies contains two parts, very different rhe one from the other.
The one, containing the original of societies, and the rise and extent
of political power; the other, the art of governing men in society.'
The 'art of governing men in society', or political pru­
dence, is concerned with the contingencies and realities of
particular situations, and as such its certainty is necessarily
limited when compared to the principles upon which the
political order is to be founded. As Locke puts it in one of
his Journal articles for 1 6 8 t :
The well management of public or private affairs depending upon
the various and unknown humours, interests, imd capacities of men we
have to do with i n the world, and not upon any settled ideas of things
. . . polity and prudence are not capable of demonstration; but a man
is principally helped in them by the history of matter of fact and a
i quiring into probable cause<.; and finding out an analogy
sagacity of n
in their operations and elfeccs.i
1 s.,,., T1-zAti C<emni•t Rtatl•nt ..ti StwtlJ/.,. • C1.:lnran (IY.,.h, ii. 408).
2 Locke MSS.,f. 5,fol. 81 ;cf. Trtoli1t1. I,src1. 86, 101 ; 11,rttt.6, 12, 30,96� 118, 135;
E-u,ay, •. ill. 13 a.ad IV. iii. 18.
CONCLUSION 193
In addition to experience, the proper guide for the statesman,
whose task it is to 'conduct men right in society and support
a community amongst its neighbours' 1 is history, especially
political history. In the first place, such history furnishes
many particular instances of political actions, and these are
the 'foundations' of 'civil' knowledge: • . . . the benefit the
understanding makes of them, is to draw from them conclu­
sions, which may be as standing rules of knowledge, and
consequently, of practice'.2
Second, history relates the actions of men the various to
political societies in which they live; for in order to under­
stand the character and content of present policies it is
often necessary to know the long train of connexions be­
tween the present and the past. Thus Locke says that :
The great end of such hisrory as Livy's is to give an account ofthe
actions ofmen as embodied in societies, and so is the true foundation of
politics. (For] . . . the flourishing or decay of commonwealths . . .
(depends] not barely on the present time or what is done within
themselves, but mott commonly on remote and precedent constitutions
and events and a train of concurrent actions amongst their neighhourr
aswell as themselves.J
Finally, history teaches the statesman what to expect in
dealing with men:
There he shall see a picture of the world and the nature of mankind
and so learn to think of men or they arr. There he shall see che rise of
opinions and find from what slight and sometimes shameful occasions
some of them have taken their rise; which yet afterwards have had
great authority and passed almost for sacred in the world, and bcrne
down all before them. There also one may learn great and useful in­
structions of prudence and be warned against the cheats and rogueries
of the world . . . .•
And even the histories of men such as Alexander and Caesar
may furnish the statesman with 'observations of wisdom
1 Locke MSS., c. •+. fol. 196.
' Of Tiu C...dwt •ftk U.,/,r1t6Mt•t• Jte. IJ (/Ywh, ii. l•9l·
' Locke MSS., c. 14, fol. 196 (cmphui• 1upplicd).
• Locltc MSS., f. :, fol. IJ9 (cmphuio oupplied).
0
19+ CONCLUSJON
and prudence', since an important part of his task is to 'make
a judgement on the actions of men', 1 including, of course,
those great and ambitious ones who may pose the greatest
threat to the security of the state. In fact, the statesman must
possess both 'skill and dexterity' to deal with 'not only the
reasons of able, but the more dangerous artifices of cunning
men'.2 It is on such 'wisdom' and 'prudence' that the 'peace,
defence and liberties' of commonwealths depend.J
vVhen T.ockc's view is formulated as baldly and simply as
it is in the last two sentences, one might be tempted to say
that he is merely repeating what previous writers also have
said. Aristotle, for example, says that: 'we call a good ruler
a "good" and "prudent" man, and we say of the statesman
that he ought to be "prudent".'� And by this, Aristotle
certainly includes the idea that the statesman quite properly
must have a concern for peace, defence, and liberty.s And
yet, there is a decisive difference between the two views of
what constitutes 'prudence'. That differ�nce is rooted in the
fact that Locke's conceptions of the status of peace, of the
relative priority of defence in the organization of political
society, and of the source of men's liberties are fundamentally
different from Aristotle's conceptions on the same points. Thus
when Locke says in the Treatises that the conduct of foreign
relations must be left to the 'prudence' of those who have
the 'federative power' committed to their care, he implicitly
defines 'prudence' in reference to the conception that peace,
as such, is derivative of a more fundamental level of anarchy
and disorder. In so doing he narrows the objective of policy,
in the broadest sense, to the production of security, indepen­
dence, and comforts, and the source of precepts for parti­
cular actions to political history, which is to say to the record
of what men do. Prudence is, therefore, for Locke, the
' Locke MSS., f, 2, fol. 96. • Locke MSS., c. :4, fol. 19&.
> E11ay, u1. "'· 9· Loekc'a notebooks and journals contain a number of extracts on tbe art
of governin&• they a.re copic-d out of \Yorks soc.h a1 the�e: C:abrit:I Naud�. co,,1idtration.1 .sur
Its CGups d'htat{Ro•nt, 1639) t PJutu-e� Livtt) Xenophon, Cyrorattlia• Amirault, La Piedt
la }.'o;,1 (Leyden, r 661); Pierre Oa.yle,l!tl<r.;Jve/l,s d� la Rlrbh'91;1 Jts Lettrts. Se-e Locke ?i.1SS.,
c. J 3· fol. t I i r. J' fol. 14-6; f. '?,fol$. rirtl ; f. 3. fols. .30S-?, J lo, 3+8.
4 Arinotle, r,'1ut1, 1177•. 1 ll>id. J325•; bk. vii, cht. xiii and xiv.
CONCLUSION 1 95
proper calculation of the means which will satisfy the natural
desires for security, independence, and the comforts of life.
But for Aristotle, prudence is that quality of the soul which
attains truth with regard to the nature of the good life in
general, and with regard to the particular actions which will
produce the good life, whether for the individual or the
political society.I Policy, then, even when it is concerned
with the specific problem of providing for the defence of the
society, ought always to be defined in reference to and in the
light of the fact not only that there is a good life by nature­
a summum bo11um-but that it consists of the life of leisure
and the cultivation of the mind for its own sake. Locke's
assertion that 'the philosophers of old did i11 vai11 inquire,
whether summum bonum consisted in riches, or bodily de­
lights, or virtue, or contemplation'2 is a measure of the
distance which separates him from the classical view, and
provides a powerful clue to the direction in which political
philosophy was to move. Political society, henceforth, is to
be constructed not on 'ideas in the fancy', but on 'natural'
foundations.
The ultimate question is what is 'by nature'. vVhen
Locke turns to the 'state of nature' at the beginning of the
Second T,-catisc, he turns to the heart of the matter. V.1hat he
means by that state proves, however, to be far more difficult
to grasp than one at first imagines. Rut there is a certain
correspondence between this fact and the substance of his
argument. For in reading Locke as he must be read if we are
to reach that meaning, we are gradually brought to realize,
in a remarkable way, that the T,-eatises literally are con­
structed on the principle which is central to their argument;
that what is by nature is not by nature evident.3
1
E1ltit11 bk. ..i, chs. v-x.i. l £1say.11, x..xi. 5<i. I Cf. :-lute K, p. zo9.
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BAYLY, P1ERRE. CEuriru dir;trtls de Mr Pierre Bayle. + vols. La Haye,
Colours. London, 1680.
1727-3t.
Tuci<n, Jos1AH. A Trtatitt Conartting Ciriil Gl)fJtrt1111e11t. London: T.
Cade!J, 1781.
d CMtpltte Colltaion of State Tria/1, ed. T. B. Howell. Vois. vii-xiv.
London, 1810-12.
TYRRELL, }AMES. Palriarl!ta Non Monard1a. London, 168 r.
D'EsPACNE, JEAN. Popular Erron in Gtntrall Poy111J Co11urni g the K11tr..11-
VAT1'£L, E. OE. Tlit Latu of Na1i�111 or the Printiplu ofNatural la<c. Vol.
11

ft,Jg1 ofRtligion. No trans. London, 1648.

iii. Translated by Charles G. Fenwick ('The CLtssics of International
Hot.'SSAYE, ABRAHAM N1coLAS A\1£LOT DI LA. lliJt•irt d11 gmtt:frt1t1111e11 de
Law'). ,V..,hington: The Car"egie Institution, 1916.
VAuclLAN, C. E. Studin in tltt Hi11ory of Politiral Phi/01op!ty Before attd
Y<11iJt, 11r;/c It supll1t11 111, 11 l'txamm de /11 li/Jtrtl originaire de Yeniu.
Paris: Fr&liric L&>nard, 1677.
Afur Rot11ua11. Vol. i. Manchester: At the Gniversity Press. 1925. JusTIN. Himry of the lfl'or/J. Ex1rac1tdfrom TroguJ Pompeiu1. Translated
VtNrR, JACOB. 'English Theories ofForeign Trade Before Adam Smith', Tkr
by J. S. WalSOn. London: George Bdl & Sons, 1876.
Jollf1lal of Politi((:/ Elonomy, :axviii (June 1930 and August 1930),
McLACHLA:<, HtRB!ltT. SodtJiawimr i11 S11u11te1111li-ct11lury Ettgla11d. London:
249-301, .j.04-57.
Oxford University Press, 1951.
104 DIDLIOGRAPIIY

MeoLEY, D. J. A S1udt111's Ma11ua/ efE'1glitli CMtlilutiona/ Histqry. 6th edn.

New York: The Macmillnn Co., 1925.
MoLLYllEUX [sic], "\V1LLJAM. Tiu Cau ef lrt/1111d'r Bting Bound oy d(/f ef
Par/ianunt in £11g/a11d. London: \'I. Boreha.m, 1720.
NoKEs, G. D. A History ofthe Crimt ef Bla1plumy. London: Sweet & Max·
well, Ltd., 1928.
Ruords oftht Ftdtral Co11tJ1111io11 of1787, ed. Max Farrand. Vol. i. Rev.edn.
New Haven: Yale Univcrsily Pr1:$$, 1937.
S>11rn, G0Low11<. Tht U11i1td Kil1gdo111. 2 voil. New York: The Macmillan
Co., 1907.
VEGA, Y>1CA GAR
cu ..
u so DE LA. Hrs/ Part of tht Royal C1)111nu11tarits ef rht
Tntas. 2 voil. Translated by C. R. Markham. London: Printed for
the Hakluyt Society, 1869-7 r.
NOTES
Note A. .Basil "\Villey, Tltt St'Ct111tt111/i Ctntury Batlgrcur.d (New York:
Columbia Uni..crsity Press, 1950), pp. 266-J. Among 1he many authors who
advance 1his interpretation are 1he following: "William Archibald Dunning,
A Hi1tory efPolitital Tliteriu: From lutlitr to MMltPfUitu (New York: The
Macmillan Co., 190)), pp. 345�; A. Campbell Fraser, 'John Locke as a
Fac1or in :\Jodem Thought', Pr«mli11gs of t!it Britilh Atademy, 1903-04,
pp. 221-35; Sterling Power Lamprecht, Tiu M1m1I and Politital Philosophy
ef John Lotkt (New York: Columbia University Press, 1918); Edward
Tagar1, Lode's /Priti1tg1 and Philcsoplty (London: Longman, Rrown, Green,
& Longmans, 18 55); T. 0. \Veldon, Stama11dJforall (New York: .McGraw­
Hill Book Co., fnc., 1947), pp. 132-3, 1 3 5-6.
For exceptions sec Herbert Johnston, 'Locke's ltoiathan', Modern Sd100/­
ma11, x.wi (.II-larch 1949), 201-10; C. B. Macpherson, 'The Soci:il Bearn ig
of Locke's Political Theory', If/mun Politital Quarttrly, vii (March 1954),
t-22; Leo Strauss, Natural Rig/it a11J Hi11ory (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1953), ch. v. The interpre1ation by Straun has been subjected
10 considerable criticism by Charles H. Monson, Jr., 'Locke and His Inter­
pretel"$', Political S111diu, vi (June 195 8), 120-33; and John W'. Yolcon,
'Locke on the LawofNature', '1'lu Philosopltica/ Rer1iew, bcvii (October 1 9 5 8),
477-98.
Note B. A f7i11dication oftlit Reas011a6/t7tm ef Chri11ia11i1y ( Wuks, vi. 172)
(emphasis supplied). And cf. John Edwards, Some Tho11g/J1s Co11urni11g the
8er;eral Ca11su and OClasiMJ ef At/1tir111. lf'it/J S(Jmt Brief Refitdi111 011
d

Socinianism, and 011 a Lau Boolt Entitultd 'Tiu Rea1011ablt11et1 ofChriuianity

a; Ddiver'd in tlit Stript11ru' (London, 1695), pp. t t2 IF.; Edwards,
So,i11ia11ism U11ma1lt'd (London, 1696). In the Introduction to his second
pamphlet John Edwards argues th•t Locke's general allitudc was this: He,
Locke, would advance 1hc cause of Socininnism by his published work,
although publicly denying such to be his in1ention. He pictures J..ocke as
saying to himself: The texts of Tiu Rtaso11116lt11ts1 of Christianity, when
examined, 'publickly profess themselves 10 be Socinus's followers, bu1 I'll be
upon the reserve, and so disguise myself that i1 shall be \•cry difficult 10 dis­
cover me. 1 will make the world believe 1hat I never heard ofsuch a man as
Socinus; and if they tell me 1ha1 I speak his very language as perfectly as if f
were a native ofSienna, I'll face them down 1ha1 I had it not by fingring ofany
S«iniao authors, but by a kind ofNatural Revelation'.
:\01c C. Locke refers to Tyrrell in Trtatisu, J, sec. r 24, as the 'ingenious and
learned author' of the Patriartlia No11 MMarclia. But i1 is doubtful whether
OOS3 p
206 NOTES
the two men's works do, in fact, ngree 'in most things'. Tyrrcll's work is an
attack on Filmer, as is Locke's First Trtatist. But Tyrrell's method of attack
on Filmer, hs
i orthodox use of biblical texts, his definition of the law of nature
and its ultimate source, and his conception of the nate of nature all differ
markedly from Locke's views. For insta.nce, Tyrrell at one point uplicitly
equates the state of nature with the biblical state of innocence, which is the
orthodox Christi.an ,·iew: 'All upositors loo� upon these words [Gen. ii. 16)
i
as respecting only a conjugal, not fiial
l subjection. Neither were they spoke in
the state ofnature or innocence, but after the fall' (Paffiardu: Non Monarcha
[London, 1681], p. t 3). Yet Locke never makes this equation of the state
of nature with the biblical sute of n
i nocence, although many n
i terpreters
believe that he docs so. On the contrary, as ,�;n be shown in Ch. z of this
study, Locke's state of nature ultimately is a denia.l of the biblical state of
innocence. Moreover, Locke's interpretation of Gen. i ii. 16 differs considet­
ably from that given to it by Tyrrell, for Locke uys: '. . . there s
i here no more
law to oblige a woman to such subjection, if the circumstances either of her
eon<lition or contract with her husband should exempt her from it, than there
is that she should bting forth her cluldren in sorrow and pain, if there could
be found a remedy for it . . .'. Trtatius, I, sec. 41. Sec also ibid. I, secs. 16,
44, 67, 73; n. secs. 78-83.
Note D. Dictill1tary of Natill1tal Biography, ix. 93 5-6 (emphasis supplied).
Some indication of the extent of Hobbes's ill-fame is given by the list of books
and pamphlets on Hobbes at the British Museum. For the period 1645-
172 S there arc no fewer than twenty separate works which attack practically
every aspect of lus philosophy; nnd unless I am mistaken, there is not, in that
period, a single work listed wluch defend$ his doctrines. Nor does this take
into account the numerous other works which attack Hobbes only in passing.
An example of the sort of pamphlet which appeared late iii the seventeenth
century is an anonymous tract entitled: Tiu True E.ffigin of the Mll111ttr of
Malmubury; or Thomas llo66ts in His Trut Colours (London, 1680). The
author is quite candid in his Preface to the Reader: 'I desire thou shouldst
undcntand that the author of the following verses agrunst !vfr. Hobbes about
twenty years since conceived that indignation against him, and that hatred
ofhis illogical and atheistical genius'. A sample of the verse:
•He saib i' th' ocean of the most profound impiety;
And from the coasts of Hell
He brings those wares, "hich he shall ncv"r !ell
To any, but th06C chrkn'd souls, which lie, where Adam fell'. (vs. 4)
At the beginning of his Journal for 1680 Locke has a 'Protestant Almanacl:',
towhich si appended a pamphlet titled'A Dialogue Between a Popish Priest and
a Young Scholar'. At the opening of this little dialogue the Priest s i made to
say: . . . S<!eing man is a sociable creature, (or at least was so before, Hobs
' mtnt (London : T. D.dell, t181), pp. +02-3. Locke bought the Eult1ias1i;al
NOTES 1�
[1ic] b.is days) . . .'. In other words, the novelty of Hobbes's conception seems
to be a generally recognized fact. Sec Locke MSS., f. 4, fol. 7 1 .
Note E. This painsta�ing care is revealed n
i many ways. Locke was in his late
fifties before his works were published, but his Journals, workbooks, and
letters reveal prodigious activity all during the period from his twenties on­
ward. Furthermore, the various ver>ions which we have of his Essay Co11urn­
i11gHuman U11Jtr1ta11Ji11gshow what great care he gave to that work. Although
comparable documcnti concerning the Ta;o TrtatiJts are wanting-very
likely because they were destroyed-it is nonetheless true, as :0.1r. Laslett has
..Ud, that: 'To think of Locke as a man who could write a rationalization of
event> which Ju.cl ju!l taken pL1� is to misundersmnd bis �rsonality. It would
ha'·e been a psychological impO<'•ibility for him to do so'. Laslen, loc. cit.,
p. 47. Sec abo Frcdson Bowers, Johan Gerri�n, and Peter Laslett, 'Further
Observations on Locke's Tr:o Treatitts of Gwtr111t' 1u11 , Transa<1fo111 of thr
Cam/Jridgt Bi6/iographica/ $()(itty, ii (19s+). 63-87, for some liluminating
and subtle analyses ofthe history of the first edition, including remarks which
reveal the particular care of I.ocle concerning the text.
Note F. Locke J\ISS., f. 3, fols. 2 1-2 2 . The work, from the original ofwhich
Locke quotes, is Jean D'Espagnc's Pottilar Errors in Gtntrall Poy1111 Ca11-
.:tmi11g tlu K111r.ultdgt of Rtligion (no. trans. ; London, 1648), p. 87. (l have
not been able to use a French edition of the work.) For other examples, see
Locke MSS., c. 28, fol. 1 1 5; c. 33, fol. 2 5; b. 3, fol. J 12; c. 33, fol. 29; c. 33,
fol. 36. Jn the bst case mentioned, Locke was making notes from articles
contained in Pierre Bayle's Noucrllu dt '" rlpubli'fllt du lettrts, tome i.
One passage which he notes contains 1he following illuminating remark by
B•yle: 'Tout le monde a soup�onnc le P. Pardies [author of a treatise on the
intelligence of animal;] d'avoir voulu �trtblir adroi tc111cnt !'opinion de M.
Descartes, tnfaisu111 scmb/11111 dt la refft1llr. Et en efTet ii rcpond si bien lui­
m�me a scs objections; & cclles qu'il laisse snns rcponse soot si foibles, qu'il
n'est pas mal-aise de deviner cc quc cela signifie. Or comme M. Dilly [author
of a work on the souls of animals] a rcpondu aux raisons que cc Jesuit n 'avoit
point refutees, ii s'ensuit qu'on n'a ritn laissl 1ur pitd, de tout ce qui pouvoit
nuire au sentiment de M. Descartes'. Ba}le, Joe. cit. Mars 1684, article II
(emphasis supplied).
Note G. One of his points is t.hat Locke deliberately blurs the differences
between his own theory and that of Hooker. Locke accomplishes this, say;.
Tucker, by his assertions that Hooker is his authority, those assertions being
uttered 'with •=zing confidence'. But Tucker says that be gradually began
10 suspect that 'too much art and colouring' had been used, which led him to
compare Locke with the original. OfLoclc's use of Hooker he then concludes:
·. . . I determined for the future to sec with my own eyes, and ro trust no
longer to such guide>'. Sec Josiah Tucker, A Trtatist Co11ami11g Cioi/Gorum­
•08
Polity in 1681. He read tile first book with painstnking care, as s
i shown by
the extensive extracts which nppeAr in his Journal. He paid special attention
to Hooker's definitions of law; but at the end of hii notes on the E(c/eiiastital
Polity he appends a short paragraph containing his own views on law. In­
stead of Hooker's hierarchy of F.tcrnal, Natural, and Human law>, Locke
defines law in terms of human or positive law. His only reference to the law
of nature is this: 'The observation ofwhat ni any country is thought enjoined
by thelaw ofnature r1irtus, the contruy tJitiu'. Sec Locke MSS., f. 5, fols. 67,
69, 74, 75, 84-87.
Note H. Trtatius, II, sea. 5, 15, 6o, 61, 74, 90, 91, 94(twoquot.cS), ll r, I 34
(two quotes), 13), 136 (two quotes). All but one uf the fifteen quotes are
taken from book i of Hookcr's Laws ofEalnit11tfral Polity, which is entitled
'Concerning Laws and their Several Kinds n i Gcnrral'. And of the fourteen
quotes t.alcn from book i, ten arc from ch. x, which deals IDJlinly with civil
government. But Locke chooses with considerable discretion when he quotes
from Hooker. For instance, ch. x of Hooker contains a number of passages
which are incompatible with 1..ocke's idea of a state of nature, and these he
manages to avoid. In fact, Locke ignores, while seeming to follow, Hooker's
i ch. x : that the Fall has produced the corruption of man's
basic principle n
original nature. And Locke convci1iently manages t<> skip over such passages
as this one on the binding quality of positive lnw: 'In many things assent is
given, they that give it not imagining they do so, because the manner of their
assenting is not apparent. As for example, when an absolute monarch com­
mandcth his subjects that which seemeth good in his own discretion, hath not
his edict the force of a law wltethcr tltcy npprove or dislike it?' E(deJiastical
Polity, 1. x. 8 ; cf. Trtatisa, II, secs. r3, 9<l-94· See aho 'Trtalires, I, sec. 28,
where Locke seems to rely on the biblical interpretation of 'the leamed and
judci ious Ainsworth'. The reforence is to Henry Ainsworth's An11ofotiom
up1111 tlzt Fiot Boo/ts efMosts, the llooltofPsalms, and tlzt Song ofSongs (London:
Printed for John Belfamic, 1617). Locke owned the Ainsworth. See Locke
MSS., e. 3, fol. 7
·
!:\ote I. George H. Sabine, A History of Politital Tluory (rev. edn; New
..
York: Henry Holt & Co., 1950), p. 526. Sec also Herbert D. F05ter, 'Inter­
national Calvinism Through Locle and the Revolution of 1688', Anurica11
llistorfral R1t1iew1 xnii (April 1927), 493-4. Foster concludes that 'Hooker's
principles which Locke in Calvinistic fashion carried over from church to
state were the Calvinistic teachings of fundamental law, natural rights, con­
tract and consent of the people'. And sec Bertrand Russell, A History of
ff?tsttnr P'1ilosoplzy (New York: Simon & Schuster, 19+5), p. 623: 'What
Locke bas to say about the state ofnature and the law ofnature is, in the main,
not original but a repetition of medieval scholastic doctrines'. George Catlin,
Th' S10ry eftht Political Pliilosophtrs (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co.,
NOTES
foe., 1 939), p. 289: 'Locke invents a State of Nature different from that of
Hobbes and more reminiscent of Eden and the poetic Golden Age. . . '.
Note J. The tenor of the whole of ch. xix, in which Locke's reference to the
state ofnature as one of 'pure anarchy' occun, is to emphasize the fact of
the 'mischiefsof blood, rapine, and deJOlation' (sec. z 30) which follow from the
'dissolution of government'. Cf. too his rcmarl• in the early pamphlet on the
power of the magistr.ie, where he S3ys: 'Tis not without reason that tyranny
and anarchy arc judged the smartest scourges can fall upon mankind. . . .
Between thGC two it is that human affairs are perpetually trembling'. And cf.
his remarks, in the same place, to the effect th•t the Civi l 'Var has released
'those furies-war, cruelt)·, rapine, confusion' upon 'this poor nation'.
Locke MSS., c. 28, fol. 1.
�otc K. It is worth noting here the literary technique by which Locke
articulates the relationship of the 'end<' to the 'beginnings' in chapter ix. The
title of the chapter is 'Of the Ends of PolitiCAI Society �nd Government',
which means that 'ends' is presumably the central topic. A careful reading of
the chapter re\'cals, however, that the real topic, though 'hidden' so far as the
i concerned, is a restatement of the character ofthe state ofnature, and it
title s
is only with reference to this restatement that Locke then defines the 'ends'.
He thus seems to imitate, by his literary technique, the fact that the true
account of the beginnings is hidden, yet is of decisive importance for the
proper ddinilion of dte ends of political society.
Note L. The Journal entry is printed in An Enrly JJrnft of Lockt'1 Euay,
eds. R. I. Aaron, Jocelyn Gibb (Oxford: At Lhc Clarendon Press, r936),
pp. 96-97. Cf. I.ocke MSS., f. 2, fols. 280-2. To see the extent to which
Locke her11 departs from the traditionnl view, compare the opening sentences
of Aristotle's Mttaplzysits: 'All men by nature dc•ire to know. An indication
ofthis is the delight we take in our senses; for even apart from their useful.ne5$
they arc loved for thcmselv�; Qnd nbove nU othen the sense ofsight' (98oa).
For Locke, the desire to know is ultimately derivative ofthe desire to be safe;
as such, it has J05t the defining, narural smus which it hnd for the tradition
derived from the classical view.
�ote M. Compare Hooker's analysis on three n i ter-reL�ted points: First,
according to Hooker the desire for sclf-prcsen"ation is but a very low and
imperfect form of the general dc•ire of m�n to be like God-that is, perfect
and eternal. Hence, it is derivative of a more fundamental reality, not the
crncial manifestation of reality. It is no wonder then that there is no mention
whatever of an indefeasible right to self-preservation, let alone that it is the
fund1mentalprinciple ofthe Jaw ofnature. Second, according to Hooker men
are bound by two general laws: tha: which sets forth the duties ofman ro God,
and that which sets forth his duties to man. These duties ue discovered by
natural reason, and con•ist of that which s
i 'good to be done'. Whatever

210 NOTES
'rights' man may have are undemood simply as derivative of, and necessary
to the fulJilment of, the more fundamental duties. Third, the law of nature
10 Hooker s in no way dependent upon man's reason for its being ; it is
i
simply a part or an aspect of the prc-c1tisting natural order ordained by God,
and is therefore immanent. Hooker, op. cit. 1. viii. 8; 1. x. 1-4.
Note N. Trtaliut, II, sea. 31, 34, +2. This theme ofLocke's thought can be
found ni a number of other places besides the Trta1ius. A fascinating article
i the Journal for 1677 contains the germ of Locke's argument as interpreted
n it is not altogether mange that he docs not cite such authority. And the same
i the texts; he s.tys there, among other things, that men a.re ·�ct out n
here n i to
the world furnished with th- faculties that arcfit to obtain knowltdgc, and
knowledge sufficient ifwe will but confine it ,.;thin those purposes and direct
it to those ends which the constitution of our nature and the circumstances of
our being point out to us'. Man'scondicion compeb him tousc'labour,a.rtand
thought' on the things nature furnishes, which arc, for the most part, 'rough
and unfitted to our uses'. Hence it is that men "'"Y secure themselves in com­
fort, if they will but direct their energies to becoming 'well-skilled in the
knowledge of material causes and effects of things in their power', and in
'directing their thoughts to the improvement of such arts and im•entions,
engines, and utensils as might best contribute to their continuation' in the
world with 'conveniency and delight'. Locke MSS., f. 2, fols. •p-5 5 (4'm­
phasis supplied). The whole of this article may be found in Aaron and Gibb,
op. cit,, pp. 84-90. See also Fox nournc, op. cir. i. 211-7; Locke to Moly­
neux, 20 Jan. 1693, ff/or!ts, viii. 464-5; Essay, The Epistle to the Reader
(especially the references in praise of Boy.Jc, Sydenham, Newton, and Huy­
genius), Introduction. 5, 1. iii. 8 and 2s, 111. i. T and 5, 111. ii. 1, 111. iii. 11.
Note 0. Ynca Garcilasso de la Vegn, Firs/ Pan oflht Royal Commt1tlaric; of
1!u rntas, trans. C. R. Markham (London: Printed for the Hakluyt Society,
t869, t871), 2 vols., bk. i, vii and viii. Locke'� Journal for the fall and winter
of 1677 shows that he read Vega's work with considerable care and n
i terest,
for there are a number of explicit passages cited from it. Furthermore, n i querai seulemeot sur cette partie de son sy11�mc philosophique que son but
t
February of 1678 he was reading the second part of he Royal C011:mt1ttarit1,
and in October of th.it year he left orders that the first part, temporarily
lodged with a Mr. Charleton, was to be sent to him in Paris in March of
r679. See Locke MSS., f. 2, fols. 272-348 ; f. 3, fols. +3 and 3 1 8-19. The
list of pamgcs is to be found nJohn Lough, 'Locke's Reading during his
Stay in France (1675-79)', Tiu Library, fifth series, viii (Sept. 1953), 2.29""
i
58.
Note P. So far as Venice at lea.st is concerned, Locke's failure to cite any
authority is curious in view of the fact th
at in 1680 he bought a copy of a
work by Abraham Nicolas Amclot de la Houssaye titled Hi1toirt Ju gotttJtnu-
111t111 Jt Yt11iu and also owned two copies of an anonymous author's work
titled Exa111t11 Jt la li6tr1l �ri�i11aire Jt Pt11i1t (1677). But perhaps his
NOTES >I l
strange in view of the
failure to cite the latter work, in particular, is not so
fact that its au thor denies that Venice was, from the beginning, a free city.
The very first chapter, for example, is titled: 'Que Venise n'est point nee
Libre en nulle fa�on, mais sujettc a la Jurisdiction d'Autrui'. As for Rome,
Locke owned as early as 1678 the complete works of Machiavelli, and while
still in Holland, n
i 1688, bought a separate set of Machiavelli's Diicour11.s;
but Machiavelli's account of the beginnings of Rome are hardly compatible
with what Locke seems to say in the text of the Su011J Trtaliu, so once again
may be said of Machiavelli's account of the origins of Venice. Cf. Machia­
velli, Dit<oursts, 1. i. See Locke MSS., f. +. fols. 1.p-2; e_ 3, fol. 41 9; b. 2,
fol. 6; f. 3, fol. 17+ ; f. 9, fol. 330.
Note Q. Cf. Locke, E11ays 011 /ht L""1 of Natkrt, pp. 161, 163. Locke, in
these early =ays, explicitly refers 10 a 'law of nations'. But even at this time,
his interpretation of that law is dh-crgent from that of Hooker. And see
the whole ofch. xvi ('Of Conquest') n i the $((011JTrtali11, but especially sec.
195, in which the antithesisof municipal law and the law of nature occurs.
According to Sabine's interpretation of Locke'& doctrine of natural law,
Locke v.1as actually uncooscioos of the difference between his own point of
view and that of Hooker: '[Locke) left standing the old theory of natural law
with all its emotional connotations and almost religious compulsions, but he
completely changed, witl1out knowing it, the menning which the term had
in writers Lke Hooker'. Sabine, op. cit., p. S29.1'he more closely one examines
Locke's technique of using Hooker, the less possible does i t become to accept
Sabine's interpretation. Cf. also v�ughnn, op. cit. i. r 57, n. 2; Gough, op. cit.,
p. +4; A. P. D'EnLrcvcs, The Medieval Co111T"UmtiM to Po/i1ic11I Tho11g/t1
(Oxford: Un iversity Press, 1939), PP· 125-32.
Note R. Hobbes, Ltciatha11, pt. i, ch. 13 (83). Henry Wheaton cited with ap­
proval the followingapprais.'11 ofHobbes's relation to Grotius: 'Comrucccrivain
sur le droit des gens, Hobbes nc m�rite maintenant aucunc attention. Jc remar­
tft prltislmt1tt It <011trairt Je ului Je Gro11u1, le dernier cherchant putout
dans son ouvragc a �tendre, autant quc poesible, entre les <'tats n
i depcndants,
Jes memcs lois de justice ct d'humnnite qui sont universellement reconnues
entre Jes indi,·idus; tandisquc Hobbes en transp<>Mnt !'argument exerce son
genie pour montrer que la rlpubion morale cntre Jes societes ind<'pendantes ct
avoisinaotes est un tableau vivant de cc qui dcvait avoir cxistc cntre !es indi­
vidu• avant !'institution du gouvcrnmcnt'. Henry \Vheaton, Hi11rire ties
(sic) progrh Ju Jf"f)i/ Its gt111 tit Eurt>pt (Lcip7.ig: F. A. Brockhau., r841),
p. 38 (emphasis supplied). Sec also Whc:iton, Eltmtltfl of �11ttr11a1io11al Law
(8th edn.; London: Sampson Low, Son & Co., 1 866),.'· 1. 4-5; Ray;°lon �
Polin, pqlirir11e u p/,i/osqp/,it dJt:r. T/toma1 Ho66ts (Pans: Presses Umveni­
taires de France, 1953), pp. 183-4, 102.
 NOTES
Note S. Benedict Spino1,a, Tr1JCt1Jtu1 Polititut, ch. iii, sec. l r : 'For since the
right . . . ofthe supreme authorities s
i nothing else but simple natural ri�ht, it
. i pression that it was meant 10 be a code ofnature applied
follows that two dominions stand towards each other m the same rclatJon as
do two n1cn in the state ofnature, with this exception, that a commonwealth
can provide against being oppressed by another. . . '. Ibid., ch. iv, secs. 4-5:
'A commonwealth then does wroog, when it does, or suffers to be done,
things which may be the cause of its own rnin. . . . (J]n this sense we can say,
that a commonwealth does wrong, when it acts against the dictate of reason.
. . . For the maxims and motives offear and reverence, which a commonwealth
i bouod to observe in its own interest, pertain not to civil jurisprndence, but
s taken o•·er by Locke, Pufendorf, VattcJ, &c., and so rransmined do\\'ll to
to the law of nature, since they cannot be vindicated by the civil law, but by
the law of war'. See also H. Lauterpacht, 'Spinoza and International Law',
The Britilh ruzr B�!efl111tm1Jtio11al L1Jw, 1 927, pp. Scr-107.
E
Note T. mmerich de Vane), Tht L1Jw ofN11tio111, Preface: 'f rccogni:t.e no
other natural society among Natio�s than that which nature has set up among
men in general. It is essential to every civil society (Cicit1J1) that each member
should yield certain ofhis rights to the general body, and that there should be
some authority capable of giving commands, prescribing laws, andcompelling
those who refuse to obey. Such an idea is not to be thought of as between
Nations. Each independent Stn•e claims to be, and actually is, independent of
all the others. Even according to Mr. Wolff's view, they ought to be regarded
as so many free individuals who live together in a state ofnature, and recognize
no other law$ than those ofnature, or ofits divine anchor'.
Note U. See, for examples: Edward Hallett Carr, The Trcenty re11rl Criti!:
r9r9-r939 (znd edn.: London: .Macmillan & Co., Ltd., 1949), pp. n-z3,
87-88, 147-8, 172-7; Bryce, op. cit., pp. 160-8; Brierly, Tiu Law ofNations,
pp. 20-25; George W. Keeton nnd Georg Schwarzenbcrgcr, Making
lntern11tion1J/ Law fYorlt (2nd edn.; London: Stevens & Sons, Ltd., 1946),
pp. 1 2, 50, 65; Jesse S. Reeves, 'The Influence of the Law of Nature upon
International Law in the United States', TheAmtric11n Journa/ofl11ternational
Law, iii (July 1909), 547-6 1 ; H. Lnutcrpaeht, A11 !111ernatio1111! Bill of tlie
Rig/JtJef Ma11 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1945), pp. 4r-53.
M
For an earlier example, speciJicallywith regard to Locke, sec annin g, op. ciL,
B
pp. 57-58. ut for a much more explicit recognicion of the distinction, sec
Arthur Ku;sbaum, A Co11ciu fli1tory of1/u law of N111iM1 (rev. edn.; New
York: The Macmillan Co., 1 954), pp. 144-50.
Kote V. The principle of a natural equality of commonwealths s i typical of
be
the natural-law doctrines of Hobbes, Locke, and a num r of later writers.
However, a commonly held beliefs i that a// the so-called founders ofmodem
international law recogni1.cd the principle of 'equality' n
i their systems. In
particular, it has been alleged that llugo Grotius was the original author of
the doctrine of equality. See, for instance, T. J. Lawrence, E11ay1 Oii s�me
Diip11ttd Quts1io111 in Modrrn (
!111trnatio""' L= 2nd edn.; Cambridge:
N O T .E S
Deighton, Bell & Co., r 88 5), p . 103: '. . . Grotius in borrowing from the Ju1
G111tiu111 under the m
to states, found ample confirmation of the theory of equality. He made it a
cardinal point of his system; and thereby conferred no small benefit upon
mankind'. Yet Grotius nowhere mentions the doctrine of equality, and does
not refer to equality of states even in his remarks on Rank and Precedence,
where it might have been expected he would do so. The fact is that the
doctrine of equality results from the identification of the law of nations with
the law of nature, a d<>velopmcnt which begins only with I fob�, and is then
modern times. See Edwin De\Vitt Dick inson, Tl1t E9uality ef Stain i11
Ll1<D Cam
!11ltr111Jtio111J/ ( U
bridge: Harvard niversity Press, 1920), pp. H-
99; P. J. Baker, 'The Doctrine of Legal Equality of States', Tht British rear
Book of l11ttnratio1111/ L11:JJ, 1923--t. pp. 1-20; and cf. with L. Oppenheim,
(
lnttrnatiunal L1J:.c, ed. H. Lauterracht, vol. i 8th edn.; Lon
don, New York,
Toronto: Longmans, Green & Co., Ltd., 1955), pp. 263-7.
b
Note\\'. Trtatius, II, sec. 192. Hob es, in contrBSt to Lode , had openlyrecog­
nized the legitimacy ofany government instituted by conquest. See Ltciathar.,
pt. ii, ch. 20 (129-3 1); A Review, and Conclusion (462): '. . . ton9utst, to
deJine it, is the acquiring ofthe right ofsovereignty by \'ictory'. And cf. Gro­
tius, De J11rt Belli, Jib. ii, c. 22, sec. 11. The earlien writer who explicitly
applied Locke's doctrine on this pnint was his friend, William Molyneux of
Dublin. ln 1698 Molyneux published a treatise in which he argued that
England's relations with lrcland in the past did not constitute a conquest, and
that even if they did constitute a conquest, that could not have conferred the
rights which England claimed. Long section$ of the c. i rly part of Molyneux's
argument arc compri>cd of passages which arc copied from Locke's chapter
on conquest. Sec William Mollyneux [sic], Tlit Case oflrtla"d't Being Bound
/;y Acts of Parliamtnt in E11g/1111d (London : W. Boreham, 1720), pp. 1 4-z3.
See also the letters of Molyneux to Locke on 1 5 March r698 and 19 April
t698, in Locke, tf'qrks, viii. 45 r , 455·
Note X. See Br. Suviranu, The Theory ef 1!1t B11/1111a of Trade in Eng/11"d
(Helsingfors, 1923), pt111i11t; Eli F. Heckschcr, Muc11111ilism, ed. E. �­
U �td.,
S&!crlund (rev. edn.; London: George /\lien and nwin, ?
1 �5), "·
.
23, 27-28, 47, 19;, 203, 239-43, 250-1, 289; Jacob \mer, Eng lish.
F
Theories of oreign Trade before Adam Smith', Tiu Jtiurn11/ tif Political
(J )
Econ�my, xxxviii une 1930 and Augu•t 1930 , 27cr81, z8t, 288-<J, 294,
421, •so-3; James \V. An
gell, T.6t T.6tory of !t11tm1Jtional Prias (Cam­
bridge: Harvard University Pres..., 1926), pp. 1 3-2 1 , 207 n., 2 1 3-r 4 n.;
John �laynard Keynes, T.6t Gt11tral TlztoryefE111ploymt11t, l111trt1t 1111J Ma11ry
(New York: Hucourt, Brace & Co., 1936), PP· 333'. 335, 338, J41-<J;
p4/gr1Jct'1 Dittiq11aryof Politit11! Eco11af'fy, ed. Henry Higgs (Lo
ndon: Mac­
millan & Co., Ltd., 1923), ii. 63 1-7.
214 NOTES
Note Y. See, for example, Arnold \Volfen, 'Political Theory and International
Relations', in Tiu A11g/l)-Amtrita11 'l'radi1io11 in Fortign Rtla1ioJ11, crb. Arnold
\Volfers and Lauience W. Martin (New Haven: Yale University Press, SUBJECT INDEX
1956). Mr. "\>Yolfers, while strC$$ing the importance of returning to a study
Aggro:ssion, 164-s.
of the traditional theorists, places them in a framework which implicitly Aliens, 131, 138 n. 1.
rejects the traditional conception of political philosophy. He divides theorists' Alliances, 125, 179.
i eas into 'normative' and 'empirical' domains, and of the former he says:
d Ambition, 67, 10)> 143-4, 166-7.
'To a considerable extent they were expressing value prefcrenccs--often Amuicas: appropriation of, 131-J;
Lockc·s ch;ancteriu.lion of, 9:-104;
couched n
i theform of"laws ofnature"-and inquiring into the consequences
Loc.b's in�t in, 210.
which follow when nations fail to act in conformity with these preferences' Anarchy, 6, 72, H-76, 79, 93, 99, 1o6,
p. xii
i). To characterize Locke's conception of the 'Jaw of nature' as his 117, 165. 167, 1 83, 1 89.
'value preference' may be perfectly legitimate on the basis of contemporary Anirmls, man-. relation to, 46, 57, 71,
86-38, 93, 101-4.
social science, but it considerably dinorts the nature of his argument ; and
.1\ristotcJjanisJn, 5:, 103.
i worse, it effectively cuts offan attempt to r�onstruct that argument,
what s Army, discipline of, uo.
because it squce= his thought into categories of which he knew nothing. J-Uu, 92, 97, 98, 103, 180 ff., 1 10;
origins of, 101.
Atbeis1n, 17, 19, 20, 22, 206.
Authori<ies, Locke's use of, JS• 31-39,
41-++, +s, 50 ff., 56 n. 2, 61, 95, 100-
4' 141-2, :07, 2.08, l.II.
Authority, 51, 69; ttt al.Jo Power.
Bible: Filmer's use of, JS• 53 n. r;
Hooker'o use of, Sl n. 1 ; Lof.kc't use
of, 33, 39-41, 46 rr., 49 If., 8s-86,
I 19 11, 11 206, 208,
Blasphemy, 17.
Capital, money ns, 176.
Cause,_, matcriaJ, :. ro.
Caution, in discourses, 19·30.
Ceylon, 71, 98.
Cheriquan:u, 100, 101.
Common'i'·c:Llth, dcfiuiti-0n of, 106 &
u. 2.
Community, 10•1 ba$is of, 114 It'.; of
nations, X\•ii, xviii, 139; rule by, r rs·
16.
Compact.<, 6, 19, 4>, 114 IT., 130-1, 148.
Concealment, techniques of, ii, 16·27,
3c, 31, 34, 35 ff., 391 45, 107; 11� also
Doctrines, pubHc communiution of.
Conqueror: behaviour of, 166-S; cwms
of, 17>-1�limitson, 1 f-4-61; ri1hisof,
146; unjust, 39·
ConqUC$t, xv, 66, 76; as basis of gonrn-
ment, 43, 100, 101, r91; rightof, 213.
Conscience. 67, 69.
Cl1nltn.ltl.lgrntium, 140-:, 144-5.
Consent, 70, 1141 116, t12. 1 J4-S·
Crime, 54• 6 r, 79.
Custom, 6?-70.
Da.rn·inism, 20.
Death pen:Jty, 82 ff., 109, I 101 118.
Drism, 20.
Oiscou�, poli•ic:al, 34.
Oi\•ine right of king'$, 16.
Doclrinc:.s: public communication of,
St 7, 10, I 1, 12-14, I 5, 18, l.J, 26-27,
32, 51, 71-72, 109, 1 1 1, tS-6, 10).,
207, >09; philosophical, 71--J>; politi­
c2I, 67-6&, 70; see al.so Concealment.
Duties, 62, Sz. tr., 1 51, 168-70, 2o6.
EconomiN, 65, 173-f, r88.
Edc:,a, :a.
Egoism, 83 ff.
Enlijtrltion, 1J.f.·
Empires, 191.
Englnnd, 98, 19r, >r3.
EquaLity: distrlbution of passages on,
38; of men, 49, 5&, 60, 85; ofpolitical
soC'.iedcs, 147 1r., 212.
Europe, 97, 98, r 56.
Experience, 192-3.
Faculties, 60, &5, 92-93, 2co.
Fear, 88, 103 .
Fort"C, 112, 113, 117, 121.-3, 126, 128-9,
137, 146, 154, 168.
Foreign policy, 126-7, 119; objccti»c
of, 192 ff.; prim•cy of, xx, t71.
Fr�nce, 180, r91.
Freedom: of man, 47; of political
socleties, 1.:J.-8 ff.; and reason, 80; right
to, 77-98.
God: nature or, 30; as source of order,
185.
Go»ernment: dWolution of, 37, 79' 209;
end or, 37, 41, 48, 70i forms of, 38,
18o; nature of, :: 1; origins of, 191 36,
39, 43, 5•-5» 58, 63, 99 ir., 10s,
1 14 tr., 171, :10.
Gitt4 161-2.
Jic�y, 19, 1.0, �6.
Historical consciousness. so.

u6 S U llJECT INDEX
Historic•! eL>mple, Locke's use of, 4i.
History: record• of, 103 1 u5es of, •·U-+·
Holland, 1801 r91, 111.
Tgnor>oa:, So, 98·99.
Impenali>m, 1 55, 1So.
Jodependencr, of political f()Cieties, xv,
xvi, xviii, 149.
..99, 100, 101, 101.
Indians, 59, 98
Indies, 94, 99 n. l·
lndi\'idualism, buis of, a•.
Innocence,. .ambiguity of, 120.
lntcrnat.ional l�w, xvi, X\'ii, xviii, 141-
4-; modern, 146--J.
International organiz.ttion, 189-90.
lnu:rnational ttl.ttions: pacilicat1on of,
188-9; 1-tudy of, n, niii, 2 14.
Interpretation, textual, 14, 19-jO, 34,
16 ff., «· 185-6, 205, io6.
ln"·cntions., 9z., 93, 98, 103, 210.
Ireland, 2 1 3.
Irony, Lockc·s, 37.
Jurisdjction, 131.
Jtu gentium, 145 ff.
Kings, early role of, 1 7>.
Labour, 91, 98, 105, 131-;, 187-8, 110.
Language, 102.
L�w, xvii, xviii, 48, 50; divine, �o,
21, 24-15, 54-i 61, 108; posltive, 78,
84, 119, i11-4, 118, 131-40, 14s · -7 ,
165-6, 108; rule of, t69.
... of nations, r 30, r 3;, 136 ff., 1 r r.
Lav.
Law ofnatu.re, xv, xvi, xix, 1, :o, ir, 24,
25, 42, 43, 73-74, ro7, 136 rr., ir1,
z14; ambiguity of, jS. 41, 187; and
Bible, 49 ft'.; definitions of, 206, 208,
209; distribution or pO!.SSoagts on, JS,
79'-&1; ignonnce of, 112; impottnce
of, 171-z; knowledge of, 70-71,
74-81,94;asl-=awofn3tions, 12 1, 138,
164-5, 2. 11, 111.
Liberalism, so, 188-9.
Libeny, xviii, 1, :.3.
Locke's works: Conduct of tlzt Und,r­
stt111ding, 9?-cJj, r 93; Co111id�ratio111
"" .\fo>:e:J, 17J, 176 ff., 191; Jn EarlJ
Draft of lode's Essa), 209; Essay
Con.ctrning Human Und�r11,mdi1t.f, 11,
13 & D. 11 2.01 :4, 27, 30, 191, 194-5,
107, 11 0; £unys on the La<W of
Naturt, 9 n. r, 2.tl; Fir11 lette.r Con­
(trningToleratz'01,1. 1z, 18, 173; Furl
htr
Consid.traJions on Afonlj'1 173, t 77 tf.;
R1asonahltntss of Christil1ni
ty, 3, 9 n.
:, 11, :.:., 23, :.7, 30, 51; Second &ply
totM BisMp of Won:tSltr, 3, ro n. 1;
&rond flindicatian of tlrt Rtasonahk·
nm of C
h ristianity, 3; SMM TMughts
Conarr.ing Educmion, 11; S.­
Thuugllts Conarninx Reading mtd
Study for a Cmtbn:an, 19>; Third
utur for To/Lration, 148 n. .+;
Pindt<atiim of the Rrasrmabknrss •f
Cltri1tianity1 9 n. 2, 2.05-
Majoriry, right3 of, 116-17.
Manpower, r76-,, 181-2.
M3.ttrialism, 'lO, 21.
1\1trc:mtilUm, xx, 175 ff.
Milit.U)r, command$ of, r 20
Monarchy, 18�1 , 1.0g.
Money, 99, 160, 176-8.
Morality, 5, 6, 12, 17, �4, 15.
Murder, 39, 47, 54• SS·
Nn1i0Mlism, iz5-6.
Nntionnlity, principle of, t33-5.
Nnturalian1, 55, 57, 6i.
Nature: conception of, 183, 186-7, 195;
conquest of, 9•; dissociation of men
tiy, 161; meaning of, 89 If.; niggard·
Jin<:,. of, 95-96, 99, 105.
• ments on, 37-3s, 7&-79.
Noahic covennnt, 55, 56, 61.
Nomin3.lism, z1.
0Jlhs, 161.
Opinions, 31, 33; basis of, 193; received,
72.
Order, aourcc of, t88-9·
Original.co�pact, 701 105, 133, 153,
154; s1gn1ficance of, 172, 1S7-S; 1�e
a/Jo Comp)cts; Go\•ernment, origins
of.
Pwi
ons
: ;3, 4�, 68, 81, 10.J, 112--. 121;
a•J>a.15of�cty, 103; naturalqualit�
of, !9S; prrma(y of, 186-7; ., ba•is
of rights. 88 ft'.; '"''"' of, 209.
Patriue:halism, �, 3, 3.;, 63, 66, 109.
J>taoe, rvii, xix, 42, 49, 61, 15, 17, So,
to6. 109, 110, 137, 1641 175, 184 ff.
SUBJECT INDEX 217
Persecution, 14 ff., 13, 26, ;o. Ro1ne, 100, 21 1 .
Peru, 94, 95, 98, 100, tor.
Sava_ges, 101, r3i.
Political philosopher: concerns of, 66;
Schol'U!ticisrn, 50, 62, 103, 2.08.
qu.:s11ons of, 69.
S<"ienre, 50, tSo tr.
Politicalphilosophy: cl:usic•I, 68, • 74-s;
Security, 6, 69, 105, 11; tf., r&o-z,
scope of, 192; stil.tus of� 184.
194-5.
Political rcolism, 68.
Political society: artificial body, 76, 89,
Sedition, 5, 1 5, 46.
Self��ttscrvition, 51 2-;, 81 ff., 145-6;
91, 94, 97, 104-7, 112, 117 18, 136;
dt!ltt of, r:.9, 172, .187; Hooker on,
ends of, 81, 111, 168. 190; size of,
174-5; ''� a/st> Go\--unmcot.
:09; of polilica.l toclcty, 120--1 , 115,
14�51; and reav.n, 93; right to,
Power: absolute. 39, 109, 1:.o; arbitrary,
xx, 56, 11:, 114, 120, 122, 138, 1631
113, 119-2c, 1::&; con.jugl.I, 6s n. ;,
170-r.
110, :io6; dc::spouc. 65-66, 103, 119,
Sight, 88, '"9·
• 58, 16o; economic, • 7; ff.; t:rccu·
Sin, 61, ,_..o.
tiv<", 4-9, 5 .. , �n
lr
ry,
SS• 61, 78, 31, 89, 1:2-4,
18, 180-1.
126-J, I 50, t66j fcd.C'r.iti\IC'1 l!l,
Soria6h1 t·
y, .;.7, 52 ff., 62, 96, ro6, 1 1p
138-9, 186-7, 2o6.
124 ff., 150, I9.4; lcgislati\"C, 110, 1 r 7,
123, 1 2i-9i rnas:tcr·�, 47; tnilituy,
Society, z15, 111.
149, 173, 176 ft'., 179; moruirchical,
Socini:inbm, 9, 10, 1 1 & n. 2, 16 n. ..,
65, 71; pau:rnal, SS• 65, 66, 69, 119;
17, 18, io5.
politic.11, 63-70, 7» 75, 77, 8: 83, So,·crcignty, 3, 47, 107 tf., 117 n. 3,
107, 118-19, J4S &n. 4, 17 1-1, tS 1-3;
r1R-9, r4!-3, 1-;7 ff., 189.
problem of, 6s; supre:�, 117, 1:1 ;
Spain, 102, 17& a. 2.1 i8o, 191.
of war and peace, 117, 125.
Spart=ins, ioz.
Stat� of nature, x\r-xx, r, 2, 51 6, 20, -i r,
Prejudice, 32.
Prerogative, 38, 118 ff.
14, 41, 48, 73, 81 ff., 94 If., 104, 164-
Prop(:rLy, 1, 6, 38-•t, 61; definition of,
7, r81-j, 188-9, 206, 208, 209;
78-79, 86; doctriuc of, 188; Jnbour
nmhiguity of, jJ, 3S1 411 45 .ff.; an<l
and, 90 If.; protection of, 70, 1 18;
Bible, 49 ff.; legal definition of, 73 tf.·
public, 130-1, 155-6; right 10, 47,
181; and seJf.prese.rvaLio11, &7, 89.
hct\li'OCn societies, xv-xx, 107, t :4-5 :
''JS, 136 tr., 1 51-3, 171, 178, c83,
-Prodeoce, 2.c, 26, 30, 127-8; conception
184-5, 212; distribution of state­
of, I91 ft'.
Public good, 119, 1u.
Statesman, 193-5.
Public person, 1 36 ff., 147 If., 169.
Stoiar, 6z.
Punlshntc:nt, 39, 47, r rS, 161.
Summum BDnum, 174, 195•
Superstition, 331 104.
Reason, 33, 49; derogationof, 7<>-7 r;
Swiss, S9• 9S·
iOJtrumental, 93-94> •09; as Jaw, 56,
139'-40, 185; and law of naliQns, 138; Tarentum, 100.
as natura1, 145, 2. 10; in suite of nature, Ta.ation, power of, "!rJO­
79-8o, 87 If., 91-93> llJ.
Tcrritory, r ;0-2.
Reformation, 50. Terror, 119.
Rdigion: and common poop�, 1>, 31; Theology, 18.
eft'eru of, 9S-96, 102; legal, 31 '•
j'olcrat.ion, 51 18.
political U$CS of, 69, 7 1 . T�: b11ance of, •16; ., mea1l5 to
po...... 175 ff.
Reparations, I59-6<>, 170•
Tr:adition, 69.
Rc>-dat10n, H• 205.
Treason, r 5, 16, JO.
�o1utioo, 39, 46, 48, 59, ri1-1, 119,
157-8, 113. Treaties, 125; nature of, rs• ff.
Rights, 1 :1, 169, 1 10; primacy of, 151, Trinity, 9, 10, 17.
I SJ• 168. Turuy, 7 1 .
 SUBJECT INDEX

Turks, 161-l, 180. War: cap[nins of, r71; civiJ, 8, 76, 137,
Tyranny, 66. 191, :09; conduct of, 127; declara­
tion of, 1091 110; just, 146; law of, I N D E X O F NAMES
Unitarianism, t 7-18. 140-1; religious, 155-6; rightof, 1 12,
Aaron, Richud I., 50 n. 2, 109. F'iggis, J. N., 108.
Usurpation, 66. r S4 ff., 1641 168; state of, xvi, JO-ii, c,
l:topianism, 67-69. 7» 73, 7+· 78, 79, 89 ff., '4'--:l• 144> Abel, 49, 54-55. Filmer, Robert, 1-5, 34-37, 39· 46-47,
184 If. Abraham, 110. SJ & n. 1, 57 n. 1, 63-66, 85, 108-10.
Values, 214. \\'ill, 117, 1!2, 136·7, 187.
Acosta, }o.C de, +» 44, 9·h 98-104, Footer, Herb<ort D., ,os.
Ve.nice:, 100, 210-11. World-state, 190 ff. u6 n. + fo;tu, Michael B., 50 o. 3.
Virtue, 6S; c:Wsical idea of, 175, 195; \\'riting: cille in, 207; teehniques of, Adam, 3, 46--�8, 56, 86, 109. Fruer, A. C., 105.
Ail<enhead, Thom:u, 17, 17.
and vi�, 24. xx, 7, 54, 195, 205, 209.
Ainsworth, H., 208. Gcrrii,en, Joh>n, ><>7.
Al<Xllldcr,
l 1 H· 193. Gibb, J0ttlyn, 109.
Amir•ult, 194 o. J• Gough, John\\'., 7 n. 1, 108 n. ;,11r.
Angdl, J. w.• Zl J• Green, T. H., 108 n. 3.
Aristotle, 3, 51, 6S, 81, 1c6, 111, 174, Grotius, Hugo, •"- 1, 5c, 133 n.1, 139,
i 75, i9., 195, 2e9. 1+2 n. 3, 143-7, 1&5, 211, 112-13.
Aubrey, John, 16 n. 3, 19.
Avcnan1, Charla d·, 1 76 n. 1. Hallybunon, Thomas, 17, :.7.
Heckscber, J:li F., , .3.
Baker, P. J., u3. Hcgol, C. W. F., 50 n. 3.
Uayle, Pierre, 5, 103 n. 1, '94- n. 3, :07. Hobl)C.!I, Thoruas, xvji, xi.�, xx, I-7, 10,
Bourne, 11. R. Jo'ox, 12 n. 3, 1S n . 1, �10. 17-24, 27, 68 n. 31 93 n. a, 1o6 n.
Bowers, F., 207. 2, 107 n. .f., 108, 117 n. 3, 139, 142 ff.,
Bowle, John, 20. 146n. 3, 147, 1ss, 2o6-71 209, :1 1-13-
Boyle, Robert, 5, ::10. Hotfman, Stanley, 1S� n. »
Bramhall, Bishop, 21. 1rookcr, Richard, xviii, xx, 33, 41, 48,
Brierly, J. I..., xvii, 105 n. 2, 11:. 49-53, 56-64, 71, 81, 89, 96, 111,
Bryce, James, xviii, a12. '39 If., 146, 1&5-6, 207-11.
liuussaye, A1nelot de la, :z10..
Caesar, 155, 193. lloweU, ·1�. n., Is n. 3, 16 n_ J.
Cain, 49, 54-ss. Huygens, C., 210.
Carlyle, A. J., 50 n. 2, 62 n. i.
Carr, E. J-{., 188 n. t, 2r2. Jetfreys, George, 15.
Cary, John, 176 n. 1. Jesus, 30.
Catlin, George, 208. Jnhnswn, Herbert, 205.
Child, Josiah, 176 n. 1. Judah, uo.
Cicero, 50. Justjn, 4:.-43, 100, 102.
Claude, I. L., Jr., 185 n. 2.
Coo�, Thomas 1., 189 n. 1. Keeton, Geori:e W., u 1.

c�lc, Pi«rt, IOj n_ 1. Keynes, J. M., 213.

Cranston, �1auricc, 7 n. 2, 8. r 1 n. 21
u = 1 & 3, 14 & nn. 2 •nd 5, 15 n. Lamprecht, Sterling P., 7 n. 1.
·
1, 18 n. 3, 39 n. 1. l..a,l, cll, Peter, :8, 107.
C.-omwell, Oli•·cr, 8. Uurent F., 16r n. 1.
Lautcrp:u:b1, H 2iz-13.
.•

Descar.es, R., 207. Uwrenc:e, T. J., 21:?.

Dick.in.son, .EJ\'.in D., 14::. n. 3, 113. Leyden, W. voo, 9.
Dunniug, \\'illi.un A., 7 n. 1, 105. Limborch, Phillip, 10-n.
Lfry, T., '93-
Edwuds, John, J• 21, 13, 51, 205. 1.<>ugh, John, 9� n. 1, >10.
Entr�vcs, A. P. d',211.
Espogue, Jean d', 3>, 207. M:iclii.,-elli, !l:irool6, 68 & o. 3, 111.
 INDEX OF NA MES
McLachlan, Jlerbcrt, t i n. 2, 16 n. 4,
17-18, 26.
Mack::ui, A. H., 7 n. » 14 n. 5.
Macphenoa, C. B., 205.
Maine, Henry, xviii.
Manning, \''illiam 0., xviii, 111.
Manwaring, Roger, r6.
Martin, T.aurcnce \¥., .tl4-­
Martin, Luther, xix.
Medley, D. )., 18 a. 2.
Molyneux, \.Villia1n, 141 2 to, 213.
�onson, Chules II., 205.
)1onu:::5quicu, "ix.
'.\1orgentbau, II. J., 185 n. 2, 118 n. 1.
�1uo, Thomas, 176 o. 1.
Naud<, Gabriel, 194 n. 3·
Newton, Isaac, • 1 n. 1, rS, :6, 210.
Nicole, Pierre, 39 n. 1.
Noah, 4�, 57 n. 1.
'.llokes, G. D., 17 n. 5.
:-Jus:sbauin, Arthur, 161 n. 1, 212.
Nye, Stephen, 18.
Oppenheim, L., 213.
Paul, Saint, 51.
Pbalantus, 42•43, 100.
Petty, \�'illia111, 176 u. r .
.Plato, 30, 68, 174-5.
Plutarch, t94 u. 1·
Polin, Raymond, zL J .
Prie•llcy, Joseph, xix.
Pufendorf, Samuel, xix, 146 & n. 1• 213.
Reeves, Jes.fie s., 212.
Rousseau, J. J., 93 n. 2.
Russell, J:krlri:1.11<l, •OS.
Rutherford, Samuel, xi._
Sabine, George H., 208, 211.
Schiffer, Walter, 188 n. 1.
Schwarunbergcr, Georg, xvii, 212.
Selden, John, 16 n. 3.
Serrano, Pedro, 9S-<J7·
$h3f1esbury, Anthony A$hley Cooper,
First 'Earl of, 1 S·
Sibthorp, Robert, 16.
Sidgwick, Henry, 62 n. 1.
Sirnon, \\'alter M., 7 n. I.
Smith, Coldwin, 18 n. 1.
SocinUJ, Faustus, 10-1 i, zo5.
5<><-ra1c1, 30.
Spinoza, J:$encdiet, xii, 2, 2.o, 26, 68 n.
31 146, lll.
StiUingf!cet, Ed..-ard, >, 9 & n. 3, 23-24,
24 n. 1.
Str.1chey, John, S.
$tr.au$$, Leo, 28 n. 1, -::05..
Suvirant.1, Br.� 11;.
Sy&nham, Thoml$ R., zio.
Sydney, Algernon, 1 ;-16, 29.
Tagan, Edward, :05.
Tht:\•cnot, M., 32-.
Tiberio•, 30.
Tucker, Josiah, 4-2, 50, ro:, 1c3 n. 3,
>07.
'l�yrrtU, JanleS, 12, 13 & n. 1, 24-26,
lOS, 206.
Vnutl, Emmerich de, xix, 146, 212, 213.
Vnui:hnn, C. E., 108 n. 1, 2 1 1 .
Vega, Garcilaso de la, 94 and n. >,
95-95, 98, 102-4, 210.
Viner, J:iooh, i.r3.
Ward, Robert, x..·iii.
Weldon, T. D., 205.
\.Vest, Richard, 23, 50.
Whenton, 1-Ienry, i1 1 .
Willey, 'Basil, ,; 105.
Wolfors, A., 195 n . ., 214.
Woltf, Christian, 146 & n. 4, 112.
Worcator, the Bishop of, "' Stilling-
Reer, Edward.
Xenophon, 19-1 n. 3.
Yolton, John W., :05.