in a commercial context (see TRADING COMPANY for an example).
taille. Tax on persons or on property, depending upon the part of the country that is being referred to, but always a tax on the individual; translated in this edition with the cognate “taille.” See CEREALS, TAX, and INTENDANTS for this term.
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In the eighteenth century, the French pound (or franc, an older term still used for accounting purposes in the eighteenth century) was equal to twenty sols or sous, and a sol or sou was equal to twelve deniers (from L., denarius). On the high end, an écu, translated either as “silver crown” (for the recent period) or as “gold crown,” was the equivalent of three French pounds and a gold louis was worth twenty-four pounds. In England, one pound sterling was twenty shillings and one shilling equaled twelve pence. As a rough measure of cost of living, a Parisian construction worker in the middle of the eighteenth century would typically make about fifteen to twenty sous per day, or a very few hundred French pounds per year.1
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This project was initiated during the academic year 2005–6 while I was a visiting scholar at Liberty Fund in Indianapolis. Without the encouragement of that splendid organization, and the thoroughly agreeable surroundings they offered, the present volume would not have been possible.
My co-translator, Christine D. Henderson, and I have worked with the version of the Encyclopédie made available to the public by ARTFL (the Project for American and French Research on the Treasury of the French Language) on its website at the University of Chicago. I am especially grateful to Glenn Roe and Mark Olsen for their helpful and timely responses to my various inquiries over the years.
For a few of the entries, as noted on the copyright page, we have elected to profit from translations already posted to the University of Michigan’s website The Encyclopedia of Diderot and d’Alembert: Collaborative Translation Project (http://quod.lib.umich.edu/d/did/). At the Michigan site itself, I owe thanks to Kevin Hawkins and Jennifer Popiel for answering many questions over the long development of this project.
Unless otherwise indicated, all translations of classical Greek and Latin texts are drawn with permission from the Loeb Classical Library, a registered trademark of the President and Fellows of Harvard College. For the other Latin passages, Kathy Alvis has kindly reviewed each text and offered her recommendations. I alone am responsible for all those translations. On those occasions where an author reproduces an approximation of the original Latin text, the translation is presented from the correct text unless otherwise indicated.
A number of individuals have encouraged this project over the years by making suggestions, answering inquiries, or reviewing some of our translations. It is a pleasure to acknowledge Keith M. Baker, David W. Carrithers,
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Sterling Joseph Coleman, Aurelian Craiutu, Dan Edelstein, Andrew Jainchill, Erin Kidwell, Robert Kreiser, Thomas Martin, Noah McCormack, Sue Peabody, John Scott, and no doubt others whose names we omit out of negligence rather than malice. As usual, my wife, Kathleen Wine, has been a steady inspiration throughout the whole enterprise, sharing her expertise on the art of translation in innumerable ways.
My former employer, Canisius College, kindly granted me a sabbatical and generous release time during the long gestation of this volume. A visiting appointment at Clemson University, made possible by C. Bradley Thompson, was also helpful in the progress of this work. Since the summer of 2014, I have been able to finalize the editing in the friendly confines of the Political Economy Project at Dartmouth College, whose director Doug Irwin has been a welcome source of support.
The interlibrary loan services and technical support staffs of Canisius College, Dartmouth College, Liberty Fund, and Clemson University, as well as the rare-book librarians at the Rauner Library of Dartmouth College, have been unfailingly helpful from start to finish. At Dartmouth, I particularly single out for thanks Rebecca M. Torrey and Laura K. Graveline.
Finally, let me state what a pleasure it has been, as usual, to work with the expert and friendly staff of the Liberty Fund publication department. Colleen Watson, Patti Ordower, Madelaine Cooke, and Kate Mertes have shown patience beyond the call of duty in preparing the text and index. And my special thanks go to my co-translator Christine D. Henderson, whose professionalism and friendship have made this collaboration both instructive and altogether agreeable.
Henry C. Clark
Hanover, N.H.
December 2015
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*AIUS-LOCUTIUS, God of speech, whom the Romans honored by this extraordinary name. As it is also necessary to hold one’s tongue, they also had the god of silence. When the Gauls were about to invade Italy, a voice coming from the wood of Vesta was heard to cry out: “If you do not raise the walls of the city, it will be taken.” This advice was disregarded. The Gauls arrived and Rome was taken. After their retreat, the oracle was recalled and an altar was raised for him under the name that we are discussing. A temple was then constructed in Rome at the very place where he had made himself heard for the first time. Cicero says in the second volume of his study On Divination that this god spoke when he was not known by anyone but kept quiet the moment he had a temple and altars. The god of speech became mute as soon as he was worshiped.1 It is difficult to reconcile the singular veneration that the pagans had for their gods with the patience that they also had for the discourses of certain philosophers. Did the Christians whom they persecuted so much say anything stronger than we can read in Cicero? The books On Divination are merely irreligious treatises. But what an impression must have been made on the people by certain pieces of oratory in which the gods were constantly invoked and called forth to witness events, in which Olympian threats were recalled to mind—in short, where the very existence of the pagan deities was presupposed by orators who
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had written a host of philosophical essays treating the gods and religion as mere fables! Can we not find the solution to all these difficulties in the scarcity of manuscripts in ancient times? In those days the people hardly read: they heard the discourses of their orators and these discourses were always filled with piety toward the gods, but they were ignorant of what the orator thought and wrote about them in the privacy of his own house. These works were available only to his friends. Since it will always be impossible to prevent men from thinking and writing, would it not be desirable to allow them to live among us as they did among the ancients? The works of incredulity are not to be feared, for they only affect the masses and the faith of simple people. Those who really think know what to believe; and a pamphlet will certainly not lead them off a path which they have carefully chosen and follow by preference. It is not by trivial and absurd reasoning that a philosopher can be persuaded to abandon his God. Impiety is therefore not to be feared except for those who let themselves be guided. But a way to reconcile the respect we owe to the faith of the masses and to public worship with freedom of thought, which is extremely desirable for the discovery of truth, and with public