About the Work
“Paradox on the Actor” is a work by Denis Diderot, presented as a philosophical dialogue. The text is structured as a conversation between two interlocutors, a First Speaker and a Second Speaker, who debate the nature of acting and theatrical performance. The work is divided into twelve parts, with the dialogue progressing through various arguments and counterarguments. The notes provided cover parts 2, 7, and 10, which contain substantial political commentary alongside the central discussion of acting. The work is written in prose and engages with both aesthetic theory and contemporary political events, particularly the French Revolution and the British constitutional tradition.
Context
The work is situated in the late eighteenth century, a period of intense political upheaval in France. The notes reference specific historical events and figures, including the Act of Settlement under King William, the French Revolution, and the National Assembly. The text engages directly with the political theories of Dr. Price, a British dissenting minister known for his radical views on government and revolution. The author also references M. Necker, the French finance minister, and M. de Calonne, his predecessor, indicating the work was written during the early years of the French Revolution, likely around 1789-1790. The dialogue reflects the intellectual ferment of the period, with the author defending the British constitutional system against the principles of the French revolutionaries. The work also draws on classical and historical examples, from ancient legislators to the nobility of various European nations, to support its arguments.
Structure of the Book
The book is organized as a dialogue in twelve parts. The notes provided cover three of these parts: Part 2, Part 7, and Part 10. Each part appears to be a self-contained section of the larger conversation, with the interlocutors developing their arguments over the course of the work. The structure is not strictly linear in terms of narrative, but rather follows the logical progression of the debate. The dialogue form allows the author to present multiple perspectives and to engage with counterarguments directly. The political commentary in the later parts suggests that the work moves from aesthetic concerns to broader social and political questions, though the exact transitions between parts are not fully captured in the available notes.
Detailed Section-by-Section Summary
Part 2
The second part of the dialogue opens with a defense of hereditary succession as established by the Act of Settlement, which named Princess Sophia as the “stock and root of inheritance” because of her descent from Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, and ultimately from James I. The author argues that this limitation was designed to preserve the “unbroken unity” of the succession and to maintain the liberties of the nation through hereditary descent. He acknowledges that the legislature was aware of the dangers of foreign succession but nevertheless chose to maintain the Protestant hereditary line.
The author then condemns what he calls the “seditious, unconstitutional doctrine” of elective kingship, which he claims is now publicly taught. He addresses a “French friend,” warning against the export of counterfeit political ideas to France, which are then smuggled back into Britain as “improved liberty.” This warning suggests a concern about the influence of French revolutionary ideas on British politics.
The passage then examines the claim that the people have a “right of cashiering governors for misconduct.” The author argues that the Revolution of 1688 grounded James’s abdication on his design to subvert the Protestant church and state, which was a breaking of the original contract, not mere misconduct. He notes that the Revolution leaders left the crown “perfectly irresponsible” but increased the responsibility of ministers, secured frequent parliaments, and ensured that no pardon under the great seal could be pleaded against impeachment.
Dr. Price’s proposal that the king be addressed as a “servant” of the people is criticized. The author points out that “Servant of Servants” and “the Fisherman” were titles of one who trampled kings, implying that such language is degrading and inappropriate. He clarifies that kings are servants only in the sense that power aims at the general advantage, and that the British constitution knows nothing of a responsible king, unlike the Justicia of Aragon. He argues that cashiering kings requires force, making it “a case of war, and not of constitution.”
The third claim examined is the “right to form a government for ourselves.” The author asserts that this right has no countenance from the Revolution, which preserved ancient laws. He traces the liberties of England as an inheritance from Magna Charta, connected to Henry I’s charter, through the Petition of Right under Charles I, which claimed franchises “as the rights of Englishmen,” to the Declaration of Right under William and Mary. This inheritance policy, he argues, follows nature, providing conservation and transmission with improvement.
The author then contrasts this with France, which he claims had ancient constitutional elements but chose to act as if it had never been molded into civil society, despising its ancestors. He argues that France has “bought poverty by crime,” suffering laws overturned, commerce expiring, the church pillaged, and national bankruptcy. He criticizes the National Assembly’s Tiers Etat, which he says was composed largely of inferior lawyers, notaries, country attorneys, with some medical men, stock dealers, and traders—men without dignity, property, or experience, who must pursue litigious private interests. He contrasts this with the British House of Commons, which he says is filled with rank, descent, opulence, and cultivated talents.
Part 7
The seventh part opens with a discussion of French finances, citing M. Necker’s 1785 calculation of the numeraire, or specie, then in France at about eighty-eight millions in English money. Necker presumed a future annual increase of two per cent on money brought into France. The author argues that such vast wealth could not have arisen from discouraged industry, insecure property, or a destructive government. He surveys France’s cities, roads, canals, ports, naval apparatus, fortifications, cultivation, manufactures, charities, arts, and famous men—warriors, statesmen, lawyers, theologians, philosophers, critics, historians, antiquaries, poets, orators—concluding that this is not the despotism of Turkey, nor a government unfit for reformation, but one deserving improvement into a British constitution.
He notes that the deposed government had been earnestly reforming, even overly open to projectors; it trespassed more by levity than lack of diligence. Comparing it to former reigns, he doubts critics’ claims about donations to favorites, court expenses, or Bastille horrors under Louis the Sixteenth. He doubts that the new system will improve population or wealth, predicting that Dr. Price’s future estimate will likely fall below thirty millions, the Assembly’s twenty-six millions, or Necker’s twenty-five millions. He reports emigrations to Canada and notes that coin has disappeared, leaving the country seemingly under the direction of Laputa and Balnibarbi academicians, a reference to the impractical projectors of Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels.
The author observes that Paris’s population has declined, with Necker telling the Assembly that subsistence needs fell by a fifth. A hundred thousand are unemployed, and mendicancy is shocking; the Assembly appointed a standing committee of mendicancy and imposed a first-time poor tax. He criticizes legislative club leaders who, intoxicated with self-admiration, call the people “a nation of philosophers” and use shows, plots, and invasion alarms to hide ruin. He concludes that liberty without wisdom, justice, prosperity, and plenty is equivocal.
The author notes that he lacked M. de Calonne’s work earlier; Calonne attributes an enormous charge, over L1,661,000, to secret Revolution expenses rather than grain price differences. These accounts produced no inquiry in the Assembly.
The passage then turns to a defense of the French nobility and clergy. The author argues that advocates exaggerate the vices of the ancient government, painting nobility and clergy as horrors. He contrasts them with German nobles at the time of the Hansetowns, Italian Orsini and Vitelli, Egyptian Mamelukes, and Malabar Nayres—but argues that the privileged nobility meeting at Versailles in 1789 did not deserve such treatment. Their instructions breathed liberty, and they voluntarily surrendered contribution privileges. The absolute monarchy ended without struggle; dissension arose over despotic democracy versus reciprocal control, with the victors triumphing over British constitution principles.
He criticizes Paris’s childish idolizing of Henry the Fourth, whose panegyrists dethroned his successor—a man as good-natured, fonder of his people, and more corrective. Henry of Navarre was resolute, politic, humane but feared, using soft language with determined conduct, shedding blood of opponents, and hanging regicides after famishing Paris into surrender. Henry admired the noblesse, and the author doubts their degeneration. He found the nobility high-spirited, honorable, well-bred, humane, hospitable, frank, military-toned, and literate; they treated inferiors with familiarity, rarely struck anyone, and did not oppress farmers or commons. They had faults: foolish imitation of English manners, habitual dissoluteness, countenancing licentious philosophy, and keeping commons too separate—a cause of their destruction. The military was too exclusively for men of family; a permanent assembly with commons’ power would have corrected this. The cry against nobility is “a mere work of art.” Nobility is “the Corinthian capital of polished society,” and he quotes “Omnes boni nobilitati semper favemus.” He dislikes seeing anything destroyed; to degrade is to punish.
His inquiry into the clergy found similar results: no incurable corruption, no crimes meriting confiscation. He criticizes atheistic libellers who rake history for past clerical oppressions to justify retaliation—illogical, punishing men for ancestors’ or corporate predecessors’ acts. Corporate bodies are immortal for members’ good, not punishment; nations are such corporations. He warns against using history to vitiate minds, as it can furnish weapons for parties and add fuel to civil fury, quoting verse about troublous storms tossing the private state.
Part 10
The tenth part continues the political critique, comparing the French Revolution’s principles unfavorably to those of ancient republics and to the British constitution. The text argues that ancient legislators studied human nature and established social classes based on habits, professions, and property, creating a “second nature” that produced diversity. They are contrasted with modern French legislators who, like “metaphysical and alchemistical legislators,” attempt to reduce all citizens to a “homogeneous mass,” treating them as “loose counters” rather than figures with specific value. The author cites Montesquieu’s observation that ancient legislators excelled in classifying citizens.
The passage then criticizes the French constitution’s electoral system, arguing that the representative has no real connection to the primary electors due to a three-stage election process. This makes him an “ambassador of a state” rather than a true representative. The author also condemns the rule that representatives are ineligible for two years after serving, comparing them to chimney sweepers who are disqualified just as they learn their trade.
The text identifies three “cements” holding the new French republics together: confiscation with paper currency, the supremacy of Paris, and the state army. The paper currency is predicted to create an oligarchy of money managers. The power of Paris is seen as a source of weakness, destroying local attachments. Finally, the author argues that the constitution lacks a senate and creates a “degraded king” who is merely an executioner, stripped of all meaningful power, including the rights of justice, honor, and war.
Main Arguments
The central argument of the work, as evidenced by the available notes, is a defense of the British constitutional system against the principles of the French Revolution. The author argues for hereditary succession as opposed to elective kingship, for the preservation of ancient laws and liberties as an inheritance, and against the abstract, metaphysical principles of the French revolutionaries. He contends that the French Revolution has led to poverty, ruin, and a loss of liberty, while the British system, with its balance of powers and respect for tradition, provides genuine freedom and prosperity.
A related argument concerns the nature of government and society. The author distinguishes between ancient legislators who understood human nature and created diverse social classes, and modern French legislators who attempt to reduce all citizens to a homogeneous mass. He argues that this latter approach is fundamentally flawed, as it ignores the natural diversity of human society and treats individuals as interchangeable units.
The author also defends the French nobility and clergy against the attacks of the revolutionaries, arguing that they were not the horrors depicted by their critics. He contends that the nobility was high-spirited, honorable, and humane, and that the clergy had no incurable corruption. He warns against using history to justify retaliation against corporate bodies, arguing that punishing men for the acts of their ancestors is illogical.
Key Concepts
One key concept is the idea of inheritance as the basis of liberty. The author traces English liberties as an inheritance from Magna Charta through the Petition of Right to the Declaration of Right, arguing that this inheritance policy follows nature and provides conservation and transmission with improvement. This contrasts with the French approach, which despises ancestors and acts as if never molded into civil society.
Another concept is the distinction between a true representative and an “ambassador of a state.” The author argues that the French three-stage election process severs the connection between the representative and the primary electors, making the representative an ambassador rather than a true representative. This is contrasted with the British system, which presumably maintains a closer connection.
The concept of “second nature” is also introduced, referring to the social classes based on habits, professions, and property that ancient legislators established. This second nature produces diversity and is contrasted with the French attempt to create a homogeneous mass.
The three “cements” of the new French republics—confiscation with paper currency, the supremacy of Paris, and the state army—are presented as key concepts. These are seen as artificial and ultimately weak bonds holding the republic together, in contrast to the organic unity of the British constitution.
Themes
A major theme is the contrast between tradition and revolution. The author consistently defends the value of tradition, hereditary succession, and ancient laws against the revolutionary impulse to start anew. He argues that the French Revolution, by despising its ancestors and attempting to create a government from scratch, has brought ruin upon the nation. This theme is grounded in the specific historical examples cited in the text, such as the Act of Settlement and the French National Assembly.
Another theme is the nature of true liberty. The author argues that liberty without wisdom, justice, prosperity, and plenty is equivocal. He suggests that the French Revolution has produced a false liberty, one that is not accompanied by the material and moral conditions necessary for genuine freedom. This is contrasted with the British system, which he presents as providing real liberty through its balance of powers and respect for property and tradition.
A third theme is the danger of abstract, metaphysical principles in politics. The author criticizes the French legislators as “metaphysical and alchemistical,” attempting to reduce citizens to a homogeneous mass. He suggests that such abstract principles ignore the realities of human nature and lead to tyranny, even when they claim to be promoting liberty.
The theme of corporate responsibility is also present. The author argues against punishing corporate bodies, such as the clergy, for the acts of their predecessors. He contends that corporate bodies are immortal for members’ good, not punishment, and that using history to justify retaliation is illogical and dangerous.
The Author’s Conclusions
The author concludes that the British constitution is superior to the French revolutionary system. He argues that hereditary succession, the preservation of ancient laws, and the balance of powers provide genuine liberty and prosperity, while the French Revolution, with its elective kingship, abstract principles, and homogeneous mass, has led to poverty, ruin, and a degraded king. He defends the French nobility and clergy against the attacks of the revolutionaries, arguing that they were not the horrors depicted by their critics. He warns against the dangers of using history to justify retaliation and against the tyranny of abstract, metaphysical principles in politics. The author’s overall conclusion is that the French Revolution has been a disaster, and that the principles of the British constitution offer a better model for government.
Significance
The work is significant as a contemporary critique of the French Revolution from a British perspective, written during the early years of the revolution. It engages directly with the political theories of the revolutionaries and defends the British constitutional system against their principles. The work is also significant for its defense of the French nobility and clergy, offering a counter-narrative to the revolutionary depiction of these classes as oppressors. The dialogue form allows the author to present a nuanced argument, engaging with counterpoints and developing his ideas over the course of the work. The text provides valuable insight into the intellectual debates of the period and the reception of the French Revolution in Britain. Its arguments about the dangers of abstract principles in politics and the value of tradition and inheritance continue to resonate in discussions of revolution and reform.
