CHAP. I. OF SOCIETY AND CIVILIZATION.

GREAT part of that order which reigns among mankind is not the effect of govern⯑ment. It has its origin in the principles of ſociety and the natural conſtitution of man. It exiſted prior to government, and would exiſt if the for⯑mality of government was aboliſhed. The mutual dependance and reciprocal intereſt which man has upon man, and all the parts of a civilized com⯑munity upon each other, create that great chain of connection which holds it together. The landholder, the farmer, the manufacturer, the merchant, the tradeſman, and every occupation, proſpers by the aid which each receives from the other, and from the whole. Common intereſt regulates their concerns, and forms their law; and the laws which common uſage ordains, have a greater influence than the laws of government. In fine, ſociety performs for itſelf almoſt every thing which is aſcribed to government.

To underſtand the nature and quantity of government proper for man, it is neceſſary to attend to his character. As Nature created him [8] for ſocial life, ſhe fitted him for the ſtation ſhe intended. In all caſes ſhe made his natural wants greater than his individual powers. No one man is capable, without the aid of ſociety, of ſupplying his own wants; and thoſe wants, acting upon every individual, impel the whole of them into ſociety, as naturally as gravitation acts to a center.

But ſhe has gone further. She has not only forced man into ſociety, by a diverſity of wants, which the reciprocal aid of each other can ſupply, but ſhe has implanted in him a ſyſtem of ſocial affections, which, though not neceſſary to his exiſt⯑ence, are eſſential to his happineſs. There is no period in life when this love for ſociety ceaſes to act. It begins and ends with our being.

If we examine, with attention, into the compo⯑ſition and conſtitution of man, the diverſity of his wants, and the diverſity of talents in differ⯑ent men for reciprocally accommodating the wants of each other, his propenſity to ſociety, and conſequently to preſerve the advantages reſulting from it, we ſhall eaſily diſcover, that a great part of what is called government is mere impoſition.

Government is no farther neceſſary than to ſupply the few caſes to which ſociety and civilization are not conveniently competent; and inſtances are not wanting to ſhew, that every thing which govern⯑ment can uſefully add thereto, has been per⯑formed by the common conſent of ſociety, without government.

For upwards of two years from the commence⯑ment of the American war, and to a longer period [9] in ſeveral of the American States, there were no eſtabliſhed forms of government. The old go⯑vernments had been aboliſhed, and the country was too much occupied in defence, to employ its attention in eſtabliſhing new governments; yet during this interval, order and harmony were preſerved as inviolate as in any country in Europe. There is a natural aptneſs in man, and more ſo in ſociety, becauſe it embraces a greater variety of abilities and reſource, to accommodate itſelf to whatever ſituation it is in. The inſtant formal government is aboliſhed, ſociety begins to act. A general aſſociation takes place, and common intereſt produces common ſecurity.

So far is it from being true, as has been pre⯑tended, that the abolition of any formal govern⯑ment is the diſſolution of ſociety, that it acts by a contrary impulſe, and brings the latter the cloſer together. All that part of its organization which it had committed to its government, de⯑volves again upon itſelf, and acts through its medium. When men, as well from natural in⯑ſtinct, as from reciprocal benefits, have habituated themſelves to ſocial and civilized life, there is always enough of its principles in practice to carry them through any changes they may find neceſſary or convenient to make in their govern⯑ment. In ſhort, man is ſo naturally a creature of ſociety, that it is almoſt impoſſible to put him out of it.

Formal government makes but a ſmall part of civilized life; and when even the beſt that human [10] wiſdom can deviſe is eſtabliſhed, it is a thing more in name and idea, than in fact. It is to the great and fundamental principles of ſociety and civilization—to the common uſage univerſally conſented to, and mutually and reciprocally main⯑tained—to the unceaſing circulation of intereſt, which, paſſing through its million channels, in⯑vigorates the whole maſs of civilized man—it is to theſe things, infinitely more than to any thing which even the beſt inſtituted government can perform, that the ſafety and proſperity of the individual and of the whole depends.

The more perfect civilization is, the leſs occaſion has it for government, becauſe the more does it regulate its own affairs, and govern itſelf; but ſo contrary is the practice of old governments to the reaſon of the caſe, that the expences of them in⯑creaſe in the proportion they ought to diminiſh. It is but few general laws that civilized life re⯑quires, and thoſe of ſuch common uſefulneſs, that whether they are enforced by the forms of government or not, the effect will be nearly the ſame. If we conſider what the principles are that firſt condenſe men into ſociety, and what the motives that regulate their mutual intercourſe afterwards, we ſhall find, by the time we arrive at what is called government, that nearly the whole of the buſineſs is performed by the natural opera⯑tion of the parts upon each other.

Man, with reſpect to all thoſe matters, is more a creature of conſiſtency than he is aware, or that [11] governments would wiſh him to believe. All the great laws of ſociety are laws of nature. Thoſe of trade and commerce, whether with reſpect to the intercourſe of individuals, or of nations, are laws of mutual and reciprocal intereſt. They are followed and obeyed, becauſe it is the intereſt of the parties ſo to do, and not on account of any formal laws their governments may impoſe or interpoſe.

But how often is the natural propenſity to ſociety diſturbed or deſtroyed by the operations of govern⯑ment! When the latter, inſtead of being ingrafted on the principles of the former, aſſumes to exiſt for itſelf, and acts by partialities of favour and oppreſſion, it becomes the cauſe of the miſchiefs it ought to prevent.

If we look back to the riots and tumults, which at various times have happened in England, we ſhall find, that they did not proceed from the want of a government, but that government was itſelf the generating cauſe; inſtead of conſolidating ſociety it divided it; it deprived it of its natural coheſion, and engendered diſcontents and diſorders, which other⯑wiſe would not have exiſted. In thoſe aſſociations which men promiſcuouſly form for the purpoſe of trade, or of any concern, in which government is totally out of the queſtion, and in which they act merely on the principles of ſociety, we ſee how naturally the various parties unite; and this ſhews, by compariſon, that governments, ſo far from being always the cauſe or means of order, are often the [12] deſtruction of it. The riots of 1780 had no other ſource than the remains of thoſe prejudices, which the government itſelf had encouraged. But with reſpect to England there are alſo other cauſes.

Exceſs and inequality of taxation, however diſ⯑guiſed in the means, never fail to appear in their effects. As a great maſs of the community are thrown thereby into poverty and diſcontent, they are conſtantly on the brink of commotion; and, deprived, as they unfortunately are, of the means of information, are eaſily heated to outrage. Whatever the apparent cauſe of any riots may be, the real one is always want of happineſs. It ſhews that ſomething is wrong in the ſyſtem of govern⯑ment, that injures the felicity by which ſociety is to be preſerved.

But as fact is ſuperior to reaſoning, the inſtance of America preſents itſelf to confirm theſe obſerva⯑tions.—If there is a country in the world, where concord, according to common calculation, would be leaſt expected, it is America. Made up, as it is, of people from different nations ^*, accuſtomed [13] to different forms and habits of government, ſpeaking different languages, and more different in their modes of worſhip, it would appear that the union of ſuch a people was impracticable; but by the ſimple operation of conſtructing government on the principles of ſociety and the rights of man, every difficulty retires, and all the parts are brought into cordial uniſon. There, the poor are not oppreſſed, the rich are not privileged. Induſtry is not mortified by the ſplendid extrava⯑gance of a court rioting at its expence. Their taxes are few, becauſe their government is juſt; and as there is nothing to render them wretched, there is nothing to engender riots and tumults.

A metaphyſical man, like Mr. Burke, would have tortured his invention to diſcover how ſuch a people could be governed. He would have ſuppoſed that ſome muſt be managed by fraud, others by force, and all by ſome contrivance; that genius muſt be hired to impoſe upon igno⯑rance, and ſhew and parade to faſcinate the vulgar. Loſt in the abundance of his reſearches, he would have reſolved and re-reſolved, and finally over-looked the plain and eaſy road that lay directly before him.

One of the great advantages of the American revolution has been, that it led to a diſcovery of [14] the principles, and laid open the impoſition of go⯑vernments. All the revolutions till then had been worked within the atmoſphere of a court, and never on the great floor of a nation. The parties were always of the claſs of courtiers; and what⯑ever was their rage for reformation, they carefully preſerved the fraud of the profeſſion.

In all caſes they took care to repreſent govern⯑ment as a thing made up of myſteries, which only themſelves underſtood; and they hid from the underſtanding of the nation, the only thing that was beneficial to know, namely, That govern⯑ment is nothing more than a national aſſociation acting on the principles of ſociety.

HAVING thus endeavoured to ſhew, that the ſocial and civilized ſtate of man is capable of performing within itſelf, almoſt every thing neceſſary to its protection and government, it will be proper, on the other hand, to take a review of the preſent old governments, and examine whether their principles and practice are correſpondent thereto.

CHAP. II. OF THE ORIGIN OF THE PRESENT OLD GOVERNMENTS.

IT is impoſſible that ſuch governments as have hitherto exiſted in the world, could have commenced by any other means than a total violation of every principle ſacred and mo⯑ral. The obſcurity in which the origin of all the preſent old governments is buried, implies the iniquity and diſgrace with which they began. The origin of the preſent government of Ame⯑rica and France will ever be remembered, be⯑cauſe it is honourable to record it; but with re⯑ſpect to the reſt, even Flattery has conſigned them to the tomb of time, without an inſcription.

It could have been no difficult thing in the early and ſolitary ages of the world, while the chief employment of men was that of attending flocks and herds, for a banditti of ruffians to over-run a country, and lay it under contributions. Their power being thus eſtabliſhed, the chief of the band contrived to loſe the name of Robber in that of Monarch; and hence the origin of Monarchy and Kings.

[16]The origin of the government of England, ſo far as relates to what is called its line of monarchy, being one of the lateſt, is perhaps the beſt recorded. The hatred which the Norman invaſion and tyranny begat, muſt have been deeply rooted in the nation, to have outlived the con⯑trivance to obliterate it. Though not a courtier will talk of the curfeu-bell, not a village in England has forgotten it.

Thoſe bands of robbers having parcelled out the world, and divided it into dominions, began, as is naturally the caſe, to quarrel with each other. What at firſt was obtained by violence, was conſi⯑dered by others as lawful to be taken, and a ſecond plunderer ſucceeded the firſt. They alternately invaded the dominions which each had aſſigned to himſelf, and the brutality with which they treated each other explains the original character of monar⯑chy. It was ruffian torturing ruffian. The conque⯑ror conſidered the conquered, not as his priſoner, but his property. He led him in triumph rattling in chains, and doomed him, at pleaſure, to ſlavery or death. As time obliterated the hiſtory of their beginning, their ſucceſſors aſſumed new appear⯑ances, to cut off the entail of their diſgrace, but their principles and objects remained the ſame. What at firſt was plunder, aſſumed the ſofter name of revenue; and the power originally uſurp⯑ed, they affected to inherit.

From ſuch beginning of governments, what could be expected, but a continual ſyſtem of war and extortion? It has eſtabliſhed itſelf into a trade. The vice is not peculiar to one more than [17] to another, but is the common principle of all. There does not exiſt within ſuch governments, a ſtamina whereon to ingraft reformation; and the ſhorteſt and moſt effectual remedy is to begin anew.

What ſcenes of horror, what perfection of ini⯑quity, preſent themſelves in contemplating the character, and reviewing the hiſtory of ſuch go⯑vernments! If we would delineate human nature with a baſeneſs of heart, and hypocriſy of coun⯑tenance, that reflection would ſhudder at and hu⯑manity diſown, it is kings, courts, and cabinets, that muſt ſit for the portrait. Man, naturally as he is, with all his faults about him, is not up to the character.

Can we poſſibly ſuppoſe that if governments had originated in a right principle, and had not an intereſt in purſuing a wrong one, that the world could have been in the wretched and quar⯑relſome condition we have ſeen it? What induce⯑ment has the farmer, while following the plough, to lay aſide his peaceful purſuits, and go to war with the farmer of another country? or what inducement has the manufacturer? What is dominion to them, or to any claſs of men in a nation? Does it add an acre to any man's eſtate, or raiſe its value? Are not conqueſt and defeat each of the ſame price, and taxes the never-failing conſequence?—Though this reaſoning may be good to a nation, it is not ſo to a government. War is the Pharo table of governments, and na⯑tions the dupes of the game.

[18]If there is any thing to wonder at in this mi⯑ſerable ſcene of governments, more than might be expected, it is the progreſs which the peaceful arts of agriculture, manufacture and commerce have made, beneath ſuch a long accumulating load of diſcouragement and oppreſſion. It ſerves to ſhew, that inſtinct in animals does not act with ſtronger impulſe, than the principles of ſociety and civilization operate in man. Under all diſcou⯑ragements, he purſues his object, and yields to nothing but impoſſibilities.

CHAP. III. OF THE OLD AND NEW SYSTEMS OF GOVERNMENT.

NOTHING can appear more contradictory than the principles on which the old governments began, and the condition to which ſociety, civilization, and commerce, are capable of carrying mankind. Government on the old ſyſtem, is an aſſumption of power, for the aggrandiſe⯑ment of itſelf; on the new, a delegation of power, for the common benefit of ſociety. The former ſupports itſelf by keeping up a ſyſtem of war; the latter promotes a ſyſtem of peace, as the true means of enriching a nation. The one en⯑courages national prejudices; the other promotes univerſal ſociety, as the means of univerſal com⯑merce. The one meaſures its proſperity, by the quantity of revenue it extorts; the other proves its excellence, by the ſmall quantity of taxes it requires.

Mr. Burke has talked of old and new whigs. If he can amuſe himſelf with childiſh names and diſtinctions, I ſhall not interrupt his pleaſure. It is not to him, but to the Abbé Sieyes, that I addreſs this chapter. I am already engaged to [20] the latter gentleman, to diſcuſs the ſubject of monarchical government; and as it naturally occurs in comparing the old and new ſyſtems, I make this the opportunity of preſenting to him my obſervations. I ſhall occaſionally take Mr. Burke in my way.

Though it might be proved that the ſyſtem of government now called the NEW, is the moſt ancient in principle of all that have exiſted, being founded on the original inherent Rights of Man: yet, as tyranny and the ſword have ſuſpended the exerciſe of thoſe rights for many centuries paſt, it ſerves better the purpoſe of diſtinction to call it the new, than to claim the right of calling it the old.

The firſt general diſtinction between thoſe two ſyſtems, is, that the one now called the old is hereditary, either in whole or in part; and the new is entirely repreſentative. It rejects all here⯑ditary government:

Firſt, As being an impoſition on mankind.

Secondly, As inadequate to the purpoſes for which government is neceſſary.

With reſpect to the firſt of theſe heads—It can⯑not be proved by what right hereditary govern⯑ment could begin: neither does there exiſt within the compaſs of mortal power, a right to eſtabliſh it. Man has no authority over poſterity in matters of perſonal right; and therefore, no man, or body of men, had, or can have, a right to ſet up hereditary government. Were even our⯑ſelves to come again into exiſtence, inſtead of being ſucceeded by poſterity, we have not now the right of taking from ourſelves the rights [21] which would then be ours. On what ground, then, do we pretend to take them from others?

All hereditary government is in its nature tyranny. An heritable crown, or an heritable throne, or by what other fanciful name ſuch things may be called, have no other ſignificant expla⯑nation than that mankind are heritable property. To inherit a government, is to inherit the people, as if they were flocks and herds.

With reſpect to the ſecond head, that of being inadequate to the purpoſes for which government is neceſſary, we have only to conſider what govern⯑ment eſſentially is, and compare it with the cir⯑cumſtances to which hereditary ſucceſſion is ſubject.

Government ought to be a thing always in full maturity. It ought to be ſo conſtructed as to be ſuperior to all the accidents to which individual man is ſubject; and therefore, hereditary ſuc⯑ceſſion, by being ſubject to them all, is the moſt irregular and imperfect of all the ſyſtems of government.

We have heard the Rights of Man called a levelling ſyſtem; but the only ſyſtem to which the word levelling is truly applicable, is the hereditary monarchical ſyſtem. It is a ſyſtem of mental levelling. It indiſcriminately admits every ſpecies of character to the ſame authority. Vice and virtue, ignorance and wiſdom, in ſhort, every quality, good or bad, is put on the ſame level. Kings ſucceed each other, not as rationals, but as animals. It ſignifies not what their mental or moral characters are. Can we then be ſurpriſed [22] at the abject ſtate of the human mind in monar⯑chical countries, when the government itſelf is formed on ſuch an abject levelling ſyſtem?—It has no fixed character. To day it is one thing; to-morrow it is ſomething elſe. It changes with the t [...]mper of every ſucceeding individual, and is ſubject to all the varieties of each. It is govern⯑ment through the medium of paſſions and acci⯑dents. It appears under all the various charac⯑ters of childhood, decrepitude, dotage, a thing at nurſe, in leading-ſtrings, or in crutches. It reverſes the wholeſome order of nature. It occa⯑ſionally puts children over men, and the conceits of non-age over wiſdom and experience. In ſhort, we cannot conceive a more ridiculous figure of government, than hereditary ſucceſſion, in all its caſes, preſents.

Could it be made a decree in nature, or an edict regiſtered in heaven, and man could know it, that virtue and wiſdom ſhould invariably ap⯑pertain to hereditary ſucceſſion, the objections to it would be removed; but when we ſee that nature acts as if ſhe diſowned and ſported with the here⯑ditary ſyſtem; that the mental characters of ſucceſſors, in all countries, are below the average of human underſtanding; that one is a tyrant, another an ideot, a third inſane, and ſome all three together, it is impoſſible to attach confi⯑dence to it, when reaſon in man has power to act.

It is not to the Abbé Sieyes that I need apply this reaſoning; he has already ſaved me that trouble, by giving his own opinion upon the caſe. ‘If it [23] be aſked,’ ſays he, ‘what is my opinion with reſpect to hereditary right, I anſwer, without heſitation, That, in good theory, an hereditary tranſmiſſion of any power or office, can never accord with the laws of a true repreſentation. Hereditaryſhip is, in this ſenſe, as much an attaint upon principle, as an outrage upon ſo⯑ciety. But let us,’ continues he, ‘refer to the hiſtory of all elective monarchies and principali⯑ties: Is there one in which the elective mode is not worſe than the hereditary ſucceſſion?’

As to debating on which is the worſt of the two, is admitting both to be bad; and herein we are agreed. The preference which the Abbé has given, is a condemnation of the thing that he prefers. Such a mode of reaſoning on ſuch a ſubject is inadmiſſible, becauſe it finally amounts to an accuſation upon Providence, as if ſhe had left to man no other choice with reſpect to government than between two evils, the beſt of which he admits to be "an attaint upon principle, and an outrage upon ſociety."

Paſſing over, for the preſent, all the evils and miſchiefs which monarchy has occaſioned in the world, nothing can more effectually prove its uſe⯑leſsneſs in a ſtate of civil government, than making it hereditary. Would we make any office here⯑ditary that required wiſdom and abilities to fill it? and where wiſdom and abilities are not neceſ⯑ſary, ſuch an office, whatever it may be, is ſuperfluous or inſignificant.

Hereditary ſucceſſion is a burleſque upon monarchy. It puts it in the moſt ridiculous [24] light, by preſenting it as an office which any child or ideot may fill. It requires ſome talents to be a common mechanic; but, to be a king, requires only the an [...]al figure of man—a ſort of breathing automaton. This ſort of ſuperſtition may laſt a few years more, but it cannot long reſiſt the awakened reaſon and intereſt of man.

As to Mr. Burke, he is a ſtickler for monarchy, not altogether as a penſioner, if he is one, which I believe, but as a political man. He has taken up a contemptible opinion of mankind, who, in their turn, are taking up the ſame of him. He conſiders them as a herd of beings that muſt be governed by fraud, effigy and ſhew; and an idol would be as good a figure of monarchy with him, as a man. I will, however, do him the juſtice to ſay, that, with reſpect to America, he has been very complimentary. He always con⯑tended, at leaſt in my hearing, that the people of America were more enlightened than thoſe of England, or of any country in Europe; and that therefore the impoſition of ſhew was not neceſ⯑ſary in their governments.

Though the compariſon between hereditary and elective monarchy, which the Abbé has made, is unneceſſary to the caſe, becauſe the repreſentative ſyſtem rejects both; yet, were I to make the com⯑pariſon, I ſhould decide contrary to what he has done.

The civil wars which have originated from con⯑teſted hereditary claims, are more numerous, and have been more dreadful, and of longer continu⯑ance, than thoſe which have been occaſioned by [25] election. All the civil wars in France aroſe from the hereditary ſyſtem; they were either produced by hereditary claims, or by the imperfection of the hereditary form, which admits of regencies, or monarchy at nurſe. With reſpect to England, its hiſtory is full of the ſame misfortunes. The conteſts for ſucceſſion between the Houſes of York and Lancaſter, laſted a whole century; and others of a ſimilar nature, have renewed themſelves ſince that period. Thoſe of 1715 and 1745, were of the ſame kind. The ſucceſſion war for the crown of Spain, embroiled almoſt half Europe. The diſturbances in Holland are generated from the hereditaryſhip of the Stadtholder. A government calling itſelf free, with an hereditary office, is like a thorn in the fleſh, that produces a fermentation which endeavours to diſcharge it.

But I might go further, and place alſo foreign wars, of whatever kind, to the ſame cauſe. It is by adding the evil of hereditary ſucceſſion to that of monarchy, that a permanent family-intereſt is created, whoſe conſtant objects are dominion and revenue. Poland, though an elective monarchy, has had fewer wars than thoſe which are hereditary; and it is the only government that has made a voluntary eſſay, though but a ſmall one, to reform the condition of the country.

Having thus glanced at a few of the defects of the old, or hereditary ſyſtems of government, let us compare it with the new, or repreſentative ſyſtem.

The repreſentative ſyſtem takes ſociety and civilization for its baſis; nature, reaſon, and experience, for its guide.

[26]Experience, in all ages, and in all countries, has demonſtrated, that it is impoſſible to controul Nature in her diſtribution of mental powers. She gives them as ſhe pleaſes. Whatever is the rule by which ſhe, apparently to us, ſcatters them among mankind, that rule remains a ſecret to man. It would be as ridiculous to attempt to fix the hereditaryſhip of human beauty, as of wiſdom. Whatever wiſdom conſtituently is, it is like a ſeedleſs plant; it may be reared when it appears, but it cannot be voluntarily produced. There is always a ſufficiency ſomewhere in the general maſs of ſociety for all purpoſes; but with reſpect to the parts of ſociety, it is continually changing its place. It riſes in one to day, in another to⯑morrow, and has moſt probably viſited in rotation every family of the earth, and again withdrawn.

As this is the order of nature, the order of government muſt neceſſarily follow it, or govern⯑ment will, as we ſee it does, degenerate into igno⯑rance. The hereditary ſyſtem, therefore, is as repugnant to human wiſdom, as to human rights; and is as abſurd, as it is unjuſt.

As the republic of letters brings forward the beſt literary productions, by giving to genius a fair and univerſal chance; ſo the repreſentative ſyſtem of government is calculated to produce the wiſeſt laws, by collecting wiſdom from where it can be found. I ſmile to myſelf when I contemplate the ridiculous inſignificance into which literature and all the ſciences would ſink, were they made here⯑ditary; and I carry the ſame idea into governments. An hereditary governor is as inconſiſtent as an [27] hereditary author. I know not whether Homer or Euclid had ſons: but I will venture an opinion, that if they had, and had left their works un⯑finiſhed, thoſe ſons could not have completed them.

Do we need a ſtronger evidence of the abſur⯑dity of hereditary government, than is ſeen in the deſcendants of thoſe men, in any line of life, who once were famous? Is there ſcarcely an inſtance in which there is not a total reverſe of the charac⯑ter? It appears as if the tide of mental faculties flowed as far as it could in certain channels, and then forſook its courſe, and aroſe in others. How irrational then is the hereditary ſyſtem which eſtabliſhes channels of power, in company with which wiſdom refuſes to flow! By continuing this abſurdity, man is perpetually in contradiction with himſelf; he accepts, for a king, or a chief magiſtrate, or a legiſlator, a perſon whom he would not elect for a conſtable.

It appears to general obſervation, that revolu⯑tions create genius and talents; but thoſe events do no more than bring them forward. There is exiſting in man, a maſs of ſenſe lying in a dor⯑mant ſtate, and which, unleſs ſomething excites it to action, will deſcend with him, in that con⯑dition, to the grave. As it is to the advantage of ſociety that the whole of its faculties ſhould be employed, the conſtruction of government ought to be ſuch as to bring forward, by a quiet and re⯑gular operation, all that extent of capacity which never fails to appear in revolutions.

This cannot take place in the inſipid ſtate of [28] hereditary government, not only becauſe it pre⯑vents, but becauſe it operates to benumb. When the mind of a nation is bowed down by any poli⯑tical ſuperſtition in its government, ſuch as here⯑ditary ſucceſſion is, it loſes a conſiderable portion of its powers on all other ſubjects and objects. Hereditary ſucceſſion requires the ſame obedi⯑ence to ignorance, as to wiſdom; and when once the mind can bring itſelf to pay this indiſcrimi⯑nate reverence, it deſcends below the ſtature of mental manhood. It is fit to be great only in little things. It acts a treachery upon itſelf, and ſuffocates the ſenſations that urge to de⯑tection.

Though the ancient governments preſent to us a miſerable picture of the condition of man, there is one which above all others exempts itſelf from the general deſcription. I mean the democracy of the Athenians. We ſee more to admire, and leſs to condemn, in that great, extraordinary peo⯑ple, than in any thing which hiſtory affords.

Mr. Burke is ſo little acquainted with conſti⯑tuent principles of government, that he confounds democracy and repreſentation together. Repre⯑ſentation was a thing unknown in the ancient de⯑mocracies. In thoſe the maſs of the people met and enacted laws (grammatically ſpeaking) in the firſt perſon. Simple democracy was no other than the common-hall of the ancients. It ſigni⯑fies the form, as well as the public principle of the government. As theſe democracies increaſed in population, and the territory extended, the ſimple [29] democratical form became unwieldy and imprac⯑ticable; and as the ſyſtem of repreſentation was not known, the conſequence was, they either degenerated convulſively into monarchies, or be⯑came abſorbed into ſuch as then exiſted. Had the ſyſtem of repreſentation been then under⯑ſtood, as it now is, there is no reaſon to believe that thoſe forms of government, now called mo⯑narchical or ariſtocratical, would ever have taken place. It was the want of ſome method to conſolidate the parts of ſociety, after it became too populous, and too extenſive for the ſimple democratical form, and alſo the lax and ſo⯑litary condition of ſhepherds and herdſmen in other parts of the world, that afforded opportu⯑nities to thoſe unnatural modes of government to begin.

As it is neceſſary to clear away the rubbiſh of errors, into which the ſubject of government has been thrown, I ſhall proceed to remark on ſome others.

It has always been the political craft of cour⯑tiers and court-governments, to abuſe ſomething which they called republicaniſm; but what repub⯑licaniſm was, or is, they never attempt to explain. Let us examine a little into this caſe.

The only forms of government are, the demo⯑cratical, the ariſtocratical, the monarchical, and what is now called the repreſentative.

What is called a republic, is not any particular form of government. It is wholly characteriſtical of the purport, matter, or object for which go⯑vernment ought to be inſtituted, and on which [30] it is to be employed, RES-PUBLICA, the public affairs, or the public good; or, literally tranſlated, the public thing. It is a word of a good original, referring to what ought to be the character and buſineſs of government; and in this ſenſe it is na⯑turally oppoſed to the word monarchy, which has a baſe original ſignification. It means arbitrary power in an individual perſon; in the exerciſe of which, himſelf, and not the res-publica, is the object.

Every government that does not act on the principle of a Republic, or in other words, that does not make the res-publica its whole and ſole object, is not a good government. Republican government is no other than government eſta⯑bliſhed and conducted for the intereſt of the pu⯑blic, as well individually as collectively. It is not neceſſarily connected with any particular form, but it moſt naturally aſſociates with the repreſen⯑tative form, as being beſt calculated to ſecure the end for which a nation is at the expence of ſup⯑porting it.

Various forms of government have affected to ſtyle themſelves a republic. Poland calls itſelf a republic, which is an hereditary ariſtocracy, with what is called an elective monarchy. Holland calls itſelf a republic, which is chiefly ariſtocra⯑tical, with an hereditary ſtadtholderſhip. But the government of America, which is wholly on the ſyſtem of repreſentation, is the only real republic in character and in practice, that now exiſts. Its government has no other object than the public buſineſs of the nation, and therefore it is properly [31] a republic; and the Americans have taken care that THIS, and no other, ſhall always be the object of their government, by their rejecting every thing hereditary, and eſtabliſhing government on the ſyſtem of repreſentation only.

Thoſe who have ſaid that a republic is not a form of government calculated for countries of great extent, miſtook, in the firſt place, the buſi⯑neſs of a government, for a form of government; for the res-publica equally appertains to every ex⯑tent of territory and population. And, in the ſecond place, if they meant any thing with reſpect to form, it was the ſimple democratical form, ſuch as was the mode of government in the ancient de⯑mocracies, in which there was no repreſentation. The caſe, therefore, is not, that a republic cannot be extenſive, but that it cannot be extenſive on the ſimple democratical form; and the queſtion naturally preſents itſelf, What is the beſt form of government for conducting the RES-PUBLICA, or the PUBLIC BUSINESS of a nation, after it becomes too extenſive and populous for the ſimple democratical form?

It cannot be monarchy, becauſe monarchy is ſubject to an objection of the ſame amount to which the ſimple democratical form was ſubject.

It is poſſible that an individual may lay down a ſyſtem of principles, on which government ſhall be conſtitutionally eſtabliſhed to any extent of territory. This is no more than an operation of the mind, acting by its own powers. But the practice upon thoſe principles, as applying to the [32] various and numerous circumſtances of a nation, its agriculture, manufacture, trade, commerce, &c. &c. requires a knowledge of a different kind, and which can be had only from the various parts of ſociety. It is an aſſemblage of practical knowledge, which no one individual can poſſeſs; and therefore the monarchical form is as much limited, in uſeful practice, from the incompetency of knowledge, as was the democratical form, from the multiplicity of population. The one degenerates, by extenſion, into confuſion; the other, into ignorance and in⯑capacity, of which all the great monarchies are an evidence. The monarchical form, therefore, could not be a ſubſtitute for the democratical, be⯑cauſe it has equal inconveniences.

Much leſs could it when made hereditary. This is the moſt effectual of all forms to preclude knowledge. Neither could the high democrati⯑cal mind have voluntarily yielded itſelf to be go⯑verned by children and idiots, and all the motley inſignificance of character, which attends ſuch a mere animal-ſyſtem, the diſgrace and the reproach of reaſon and of man.

As to the ariſtocratical form, it has the ſame vices and defects with the monarchical, except that the chance of abilities is better from the proportion of numbers, but there is ſtill no ſecu⯑rity for the right uſe and application of them^*.

Referring, then, to the original ſimple democracy, [33] it affords the true data from which government on a large ſcale can begin. It is incapable of ex⯑tenſion, not from its principle, but from the in⯑convenience of its form; and monarchy and ariſ⯑tocracy, from their incapacity. Retaining, then, democracy as the ground, and rejecting the cor⯑rupt ſyſtems of monarchy and ariſtocracy, the re⯑preſentative ſyſtem naturally preſents itſelf; re⯑medying at once the defects of the ſimple demo⯑cracy as to form, and the incapacity of the other two with reſpect to knowledge.

Simple democracy was ſociety governing itſelf without the aid of ſecondary means. By ingraft⯑ing repreſentation upon democracy, we arrive at a ſyſtem of government capable of embracing and confederating all the various intereſts and every extent of territory and population; and that alſo with advantages as much ſuperior to hereditary government, as the republic of letters is to here⯑ditary literature.

It is on this ſyſtem that the American govern⯑ment is founded. It is repreſentation ingrafted upon democracy. It has fixed the form by a ſcale parallel in all caſes to the extent of the principle. What Athens was in miniature, America will be in magnitude. The one was the wonder of the an⯑cient world; the other is becoming the admiration and model of the preſent. It is the eaſieſt of all the forms of government to be underſtood, and the moſt eligible in practice; and excludes at once the igno⯑rance and inſecurity of the hereditary mode, and the inconvenience of the ſimple democracy.

[34]It is impoſſible to conceive a ſyſtem of govern⯑ment capable of acting over ſuch an extent of territory, and ſuch a circle of intereſts, as is im⯑mediately produced by the operation of repreſen⯑tation. France, great and populous as it is, is but a ſpot in the capaciouſneſs of the ſyſtem. It adapts itſelf to all poſſible caſes. It is preferable to ſimple democracy even in ſmall territories. Athens, by repreſentation, would have outrivalled her own democracy.

That which is called government, or rather that which we ought to conceive government to be, is no more than ſome common center, in which all the parts of ſociety unite. This cannot be accompliſhed by any method ſo conducive to the various intereſts of the community, as by the repre⯑ſentative ſyſtem. It concentrates the knowledge neceſſary to the intereſt of the parts, and of the whole. It places government in a ſtate of conſtant maturity. It is, as has been already obſerved, never young, never old. It is ſubject neither to non age, nor dotage. It is never in the cradle, nor on crutches. It admits not of a ſepara⯑tion between knowledge and power, and is ſupe⯑rior, as government always ought to be, to all the accidents of individual man, and is therefore ſuperior to what is called monarchy.

A nation is not a body, the figure of which is to be repreſented by the human body; but is like a body contained within a circle, having a com⯑mon center, in which every radius meets; and that center is formed by repreſentation. To connect [35] repreſentation with what is called monarchy, is eccentric government. Repreſentation is of itſelf the delegated monarchy of a nation, and cannot debaſe itſelf by dividing it with another.

Mr. Burke has two or three times, in his parlia⯑mentary ſpeeches, and in his publications, made uſe of a jingle of words that convey no ideas. Speaking of government, he ſays, ‘It is better to have monarchy for its baſis, and republican⯑iſm for its corrective, than republicaniſm for its baſis, and monarchy for its corrective.’—If he means that it is better to correct folly with wiſdom, than wiſdom with folly, I will no otherwiſe con⯑tend with him, than that it would be much better to reject the folly entirely.

But what is this thing which Mr. Burke calls monarchy? Will he explain it? All men can under⯑ſtand what repreſentation is; and that it muſt neceſ⯑arily include a variety of knowledge and talents. But, what ſecurity is there for the ſame qualities on the part of monarchy? or, when this monarchy is a child, where then is the wiſdom? What does it know about government? Who then is the monarch, or where is the monarchy? If it is to be performed by regency, it proves it to be a farce. A regency is a mock ſpecies of republic, and the whole of monarchy deſerves no better deſcription. It is a thing as various as imagination can paint. It has none of the ſtable character that govern⯑ment ought to poſſeſs. Every ſucceſſion is a revolution, and every regency a counter-revolu⯑tion. The whole of it is a ſcene of perpetual court [36] cabal and intrigue, of which Mr. Burke is himſelf an inſtance. To render monarchy conſiſtent with government, the next in ſucceſſion ſhould not be born a child, but a man at once, and that man a Solomon. It is ridiculous that nations are to wait, and government be interrupted, till boys grow to be men.

Whether I have too little ſenſe to ſee, or too much to be impoſed upon; whether I have too much or too little pride, or of any thing elſe, I leave out of the queſtion; but certain it is, that what is called monarchy, always appears to me a ſilly, contemptible thing. I compare it to ſome⯑thing kept behind a curtain, about which there is a great deal of buſtle and fuſs, and a wonderful air of ſeeming ſolemnity; but when, by any acci⯑dent, the curtain happens to be open, and the company ſee what it is, they burſt into laughter.

In the repreſentative ſyſtem of government, nothing of this can happen. Like the nation itſelf, it poſſeſſes a perpetual ſtamina, as well of body as of mind, and preſents itſelf on the open theatre of the world in a fair and manly manner. Whatever are its excellences or its defects, they are viſible to all. It exiſts not by fraud and myſtery; it deals not in cant and ſophiſtry; but inſpires a language, that, paſſing from heart to heart, is felt and underſtood.

We muſt ſhut our eyes againſt reaſon, we muſt baſely degrade our underſtanding, not to ſee the folly of what is called monarchy. Nature is orderly in all her works; but this is a mode of [37] government that counteracts nature. It turns the the progreſs of the human faculties upſide down. It ſubjects age to be governed by children, and wiſdom by folly.

On the contrary, the repreſentative ſyſtem is always parallel with the order and immutable laws of nature, and meets the reaſon of man in every part. For example:

In the American federal government, more power is delegated to the Preſident of the United States, than to any other individual member of congreſs. He cannot, therefore, be elected to this office under the age of thirty-five years. By this time the judgment of man becomes matured, and he has lived long enough to be acquainted with men and things, and the country with him.—But on the monarchical plan, (excluſive of the numer⯑ous chances there are againſt every man born into the world, of drawing a prize in the lottery of hu⯑man faculties), the next in ſucceſſion, whatever he may be, is put at the head of a nation, and of a government, at the age of eighteen years. Does this appear like an act of wiſdom? Is it conſiſtent with the proper dignity and the manly character of a nation? Where is the propriety of calling ſuch a lad the father of the people?—In all other caſes, a perſon is a minor until the age of twenty-one years. Before this period, he is not truſted with the management of an acre of land, or with the heritable property of a flock of ſheep, or an herd of ſwine; but, wonderful to tell! he may, at the age of eighteen years, be truſted with a nation.

[38]That monarchy is all a bubble, a mere court artifice to procure money, is evident, (at leaſt to me), in every character in which it can be viewed. It would be impoſſible, on the rational ſyſtem of repreſentative government, to make out a bill of expences to ſuch an enormous amount as this deception admits. Government is not of itſelf a very chargeable inſtitution. The whole expence of the federal government of America, founded, as I have already ſaid, on the ſyſtem of repreſenta⯑tion, and extending over a country nearly ten times as large as England, is but ſix hundred thouſand dollars, or one hundred and thirty-five thouſand pounds ſterling.

I preſume, that no man in his ſober ſenſes, will compare the character of any of the kings of Europe with that of General Waſhington. Yet, in France, and alſo in England, the expence of the civil liſt only, for the ſupport of one man, is eight times greater than the whole expence of the federal government in America. To aſſign a reaſon for this, appears almoſt impoſſible. The generality of people in America, eſpecially the poor, are more able to pay taxes, than the generality of people either in France or England.

But the caſe is, that the repreſentative ſyſtem diffuſes ſuch a body of knowledge throughout a nation, on the ſubject of government, as to ex⯑plode ignorance and preclude impoſition. The craft of courts cannot be acted on that ground. There is no place for myſtery; no where for it to begin. Thoſe who are not in the repreſentation, know as much of the nature of buſineſs as thoſe [39] who are. An affectation of myſterious impor⯑tance would there be ſcouted. Nations can have no ſecrets; and the ſecrets of courts, like thoſe of individuals, are always their defects.

In the repreſentative ſyſtem, the reaſon for every thing muſt publicly appear. Every man is a proprietor in government, and conſiders it a neceſſary part of his buſineſs to underſtand. It concerns his intereſt, becauſe it affects his property. He examines the coſt, and com⯑pares it with the advantages; and above all, he does not adopt the ſlaviſh cuſtom of following what in other governments are called LEADERS.

It can only be by blinding the underſtanding of man, and making him believe that government is ſome wonderful myſterious thing, that exceſſive revenues are obtained. Monarchy is well calcu⯑lated to enſure this end. It is the popery of government; a thing kept up to amuſe the igno⯑rant, and quiet them into taxes.

The government of a free country, properly ſpeaking, is not in the perſons, but in the laws. The enacting of thoſe requires no great expence; and when they are adminiſtered, the whole of civil government is performed—the reſt is all court contrivance.

CHAP. IV. OF CONSTITUTIONS.

THAT men mean diſtinct and ſeparate things when they ſpeak of conſtitutions and of governments, is evident; or, why are thoſe terms diſtinctly and ſeparately uſed? A conſtitution is not the act of a government, but of a people con⯑ſtituting a government; and government without a conſtitution, is power without a right.

All power exerciſed over a nation, muſt have ſome beginning. It muſt be either delegated, or aſſumed. There are no other ſources. All dele⯑gated power is truſt, and all aſſumed power is uſurpation. Time does not alter the nature and quality of either.

In viewing this ſubject, the caſe and circum⯑ſtances of America preſent themſelves as in the beginning of a world; and our enquiry into the origin of government is ſhortened, by referring to the facts that have ariſen in our own day. We have no occaſion to roam for information into the ob⯑ſcure field of antiquity, nor hazard ourſelves upon conjecture. We are brought at once to the point of ſeeing government begin, as if we had lived in the beginning of time. The real volume, not of [41] hiſtory, but of facts, is directly before us, unmu⯑tilated by contrivance, or the errors of tradition.

I will here conciſely ſtate the commencement of the American conſtitutions; by which the difference between conſtitutions and governments will ſufficiently appear.

It may not be improper to remind the reader, that the United States of America conſiſt of thir⯑teen ſeparate ſtates, each of which eſtabliſhed a government for itſelf, after the declaration of independence, done the fourth of July 1776. Each ſtate acted independently of the reſt, in forming its government; but the ſame general principle per⯑vades the whole. When the ſeveral ſtate govern⯑ments were formed, they proceeded to form the federal government, that acts over the whole in all matters which concern the intereſt of the whole, or which relate to the intercourſe of the ſeveral ſtates with each other, or with foreign nations. I will begin with giving an inſtance from one of the ſtate governments, (that of Pennſylvania), and then proceed to the federal government.

The ſtate of Pennſylvania, though nearly of the ſame extent of territory as England, was then divided into only twelve counties. Each of thoſe counties had elected a committee at the com⯑mencement of the diſpute with the Engliſh government; and as the city of Philadelphia, which alſo had its committee, was the moſt central for intelligence, it became the center of communication to the ſeveral county committees. [42] When it became neceſſary to proceed to the formation of a government, the committee of Philadelphia propoſed a conference of all th [...] county committees, to be held in that city, and which met the latter end of July 1776.

Though theſe committees had been elected by the people, they were not elected expreſsly for the purpoſe, nor inveſted with the authority, of form⯑ing a conſtitution; and as they could not, con⯑ſiſtently with the American idea of rights, aſſume ſuch a power, they could only confer upon the matter, and put it into a train of operation. The conferrees, therefore, did no more than ſtate the caſe, and recommend to the ſeveral counties to elect ſix repreſentatives for each county, to meet in convention at Philadelphia, with powers to form a conſtitution, and propoſe it for public conſideration.

This convention, of which Benjamin Franklin was preſident, having met and deliberated, and agreed upon a conſtitution, they next ordered it to be publiſhed, not as a thing eſtabliſhed, but for the conſideration of the whole people, their approbation or rejection, and then adjourned to a ſtated time. When the time of adjournment was expired, the convention re-aſſembled; and as the general opinion of the people in approba⯑tion of it was then known, the conſtitution was ſigned, ſealed, and proclaimed on the authority of the people and the original inſtrument depoſited as a public record. The convention then appointed a day for the general election of the repreſentatives who were to compoſe the [43] government, and the time it ſhould commence; and having done this, they diſſolved, and returned to their ſeveral homes and occupations.

In this conſtitution were laid down, firſt, a declaration of rights. Then followed the form which the government ſhould have, and the powers it ſhould poſſeſs—the authority of the courts of judicature, and of juries—the manner in which elections ſhould be conducted, and the proportion of repreſentatives to the number of electors—the time which each ſucceeding aſſem⯑bly ſhould continue, which was one year—the mode of levying, and of accounting for the expen⯑diture, of public money—of appointing public officers, &c. &c. &c.

No article of this conſtitution could be altered or infringed at the diſcretion of the government that was to enſue. It was to that government a law. But as it would have been unwiſe to pre⯑clude the benefit of experience, and in order alſo to prevent the accumulation of errors, if any ſhould be found, and to preſerve an uniſon of government with the circumſtances of the ſtate at all times, the conſtitution provided, that, at the expiration of every ſeven years, a convention ſhould be elected, for the expreſs purpoſe of reviſing the conſtitution, and making alterations, additions, or abolitions therein, if any ſuch ſhould be found neceſſary.

Here we ſee a regular proceſs—a govern⯑ment iſſuing out of a conſtitution, formed by the people in their original character; and that con⯑ſtitution ſerving, not only as an authority, but as [44] a law of controul to the government. It was the political bible of the ſtate. Scarcely a family was without it. Every member of the govern⯑ment had a copy; and nothing was more com⯑mon, when any debate aroſe on the principle of a bill, or on the extent of any ſpecies of authority, than for the members to take the printed conſti⯑tution out of their pocket, and read the chapter with which ſuch matter in debate was connected.

Having thus given an inſtance from one of the ſtates, I will ſhew the proceedings by which the federal conſtitution of the United States aroſe and was formed.

Congreſs, at its two firſt meetings, in September 1774, and May 1775, was nothing more than a deputation from the legiſlatures of the ſeveral provinces, afterwards ſtates; and had no other authority than what aroſe from common conſent, and the neceſſity of its acting as a public body. In every thing which related to the internal affairs of America, congreſs went no further than to iſſue recommendations to the ſeveral provincial aſſemblies, who at diſcretion adopted them or not. Nothing on the part of congreſs was compulſive; yet, in this ſituation, it was more faithfully and affectionately obeyed, than was any government in Europe. This inſtance, like that of the national aſſembly in France, ſufficiently ſhews, that the ſtrength of government does not con⯑ſiſt in any thing within itſelf, but in the attach⯑ment of a nation, and the intereſt which the people feel in ſupporting it. When this [45] is loſt, government is but a child in power; and though, like the old government of France, it may harraſs individuals for a while, it but facilitates its own fall.

After the declaration of independence, it be⯑came conſiſtent with the principle on which repreſentative government is founded, that the authority of congreſs ſhould be defined and eſtabliſhed. Whether that authority ſhould be more or leſs than congreſs then diſcretionarily exerciſed, was not the queſtion. It was merely the rectitude of the meaſure.

For this purpoſe, the act, called the act of con⯑federation, (which was a ſort of imperfect federal conſtitution), was propoſed, and, after long delibe⯑ration, was concluded in the year 1781. It was not the act of congreſs, becauſe it is repugnant to the principles of repreſentative government that a body ſhould give power to itſelf. Congreſs firſt informed the ſeveral ſtates, of the powers which it conceived were neceſſary to be inveſted in the union, to enable it to perform the duties and ſervices required from it; and the ſtates ſeverally agreed with each other, and concenterated in congreſs thoſe powers.

It may not be improper to obſerve, that in both thoſe inſtances, (the one of Pennſylvania, and the other of the United States), there is no ſuch thing as the idea of a compact between the people on one ſide, and the government on the other. The compact was that of the people with each other, to produce and conſtitute a [46] government. To ſuppoſe that any government can be a party in a compact with the whole people, is to ſuppoſe it to have exiſtence before it can have a right to exiſt. The only inſtance in which a compact can take place between the people and thoſe who exerciſe the government, is, that the people ſhall pay them, while they chuſe to employ them.

Government is not a trade which any man or body of men has a right to ſet up and exerciſe for his own emolument, but is altogether a truſt, in right of thoſe by whom that truſt is delegated, and by whom it is always reſumeable. It has of itſelf no rights; they are altogether duties.

Having thus given two inſtances of the original formation of a conſtitution, I will ſhew the man⯑ner in which both have been changed ſince their firſt eſtabliſhment.

The powers veſted in the governments of the ſeveral ſtates, by the ſtate conſtitutions, were found, upon experience, to be too great; and thoſe veſted in the federal government, by the act of confederation, too little. The defect was not in the principle, but in the diſtribution of power.

Numerous publications, in pamphlets and in the newſpapers, appeared, on the propriety and neceſſity of new modelling the federal govern⯑ment. After ſome time of public diſcuſſion, carried on through the channel of the preſs, and in converſations, the ſtate of Virginia, experiencing ſome inconvenience with reſpect to commerce, pro⯑poſed holding a continental conference; in conſe⯑quence [47] of which, a deputation from five or ſix of the ſtate aſſemblies met at Anapolis in Maryland, in 1786. This meeting, not conceiving itſelf ſuf⯑ficiently authoriſed to go into the buſineſs of a reform, did no more than ſtate their general opinions of the propriety of the meaſure, and recommend that a convention of all the ſtates ſhould be held the year following.

This convention met at Philadelphia in May 1787, of which General Waſhington was elected preſident. He was not at that time connected with any of the ſtate governments, or with congreſs. He delivered up his commiſſion when the war ended, and ſince then had lived a private citizen.

The convention went deeply into all the ſub⯑jects; and having, after a variety of debate and inveſtigation, agreed among themſelves upon the ſeveral parts of a federal conſtitution, the next queſtion was, the manner of giving it authority and practice.

For this purpoſe, they did not, like a cabal of courtiers, ſend for a Dutch Stadtholder, or a Ger⯑man Elector; but they referred the whole matter to the ſenſe and intereſt of the country.

They firſt directed, that the propoſed conſti⯑tution ſhould be publiſhed. Secondly, that each ſtate ſhould elect a convention, expreſsly for the purpoſe of taking it into conſideration, and of ratifying or rejecting it; and that as ſoon as the approbation and ratification of any nine ſtates ſhould be given, that thoſe ſtates ſhould proceed to the election of their proportion of members to [48] the new federal government; and that the opera⯑tion of it ſhould then begin, and the former federal government ceaſe.

The ſeveral ſtates proceeded accordingly to elect their conventions. Some of thoſe conven⯑tions ratified the conſtitution by very large ma⯑jorities, and two or three unanimouſly. In others there were much debate and diviſion of opinion. In the Maſſachuſetts convention, which met at Boſton, the majority was not above nineteen or twenty, in about three hundred members; but ſuch is the nature of repreſentative government, that it quietly decides all matters by majority. After the debate in the Maſſachuſetts convention was cloſed, and the vote taken, the objecting mem⯑bers roſe, and declared, ‘That though they had argued and voted againſt it, becauſe certain parts appeared to them in a different light to what they appeared to other members; yet, as the vote had decided in favour of the conſtitution as propoſed, they ſhould give it the ſame practical ſupport as if they had voted for it.’

As ſoon as nine ſtates had concurred, (and the reſt followed in the order their conventions were elected), the old fabric of the federal government was taken down, and the new one erected, of which General Waſhington is preſident.—In this place I cannot help remarking, that the character and ſervices of this gentleman are ſufficient to put all thoſe men called kings to ſhame. While they are receiving from the ſweat and labours of man⯑kind, a prodigality of pay, to which neither their [49] abilities nor their ſervices can entitle them, he is rendering every ſervice in his power, and refuſing every pecuniary reward. He accepted no pay as commander in chief; he accepts none as preſident of the United States.

After the new federal conſtitution was eſta⯑bliſhed, the ſtate of Pennſylvania, conceiving that ſome parts of its own conſtitution required to be altered, elected a convention for that purpoſe. The propoſed alterations were publiſhed, and the people concurring therein, they were eſtabliſhed.

In forming thoſe conſtitutions, or in altering them, little or no inconvenience took place. The ordinary courſe of things was not interrupted, and the advantages have been much. It is always the intereſt of a far greater number of people in a nation to have things right, than to let them remain wrong; and when public matters are open to debate, and the public judgment free, it will not decide wrong, unleſs it decides too haſtily.

In the two inſtances of changing the conſtitu⯑tions, the governments then in being were not actors either way. Government has no right to make itſelf a party in any debate reſpecting the principles or modes of forming, or of changing, conſtitutions. It is not for the benefit of thoſe who exerciſe the powers of government, that con⯑ſtitutions, and the governments iſſuing from them, are eſtabliſhed. In all thoſe matters, the right of judging and acting are in thoſe who pay, and not in thoſe who receive.

A conſtitution is the property of a nation, and [50] not of thoſe who exerciſe the government. All the conſtitutions of America are declared to be eſtab⯑liſhed on the authority of the people. In France, the word nation is uſed inſtead of the people; but in both caſes, a conſtitution is a thing antecedent to the government, and always diſtinct there⯑from.

In England, it is not difficult to perceive that every thing has a conſtitution, except the nation. Every ſociety and aſſociation that is eſtabliſhed, firſt agreed upon a number of original articles, digeſted into form, which are its conſtitution. It then appointed its officers, whoſe powers and authorities are deſcribed in that conſtitution, and the government of that ſociety then commenced. Thoſe officers, by whatever name they are called, have no authority to add to, alter, or abridge the original articles. It is only to the conſtituting power that this right belongs.

From the want of underſtanding the difference between a conſtitution and a government, Dr. Johnſon, and all writers of his deſcription, have always bewildered themſelves. They could not but perceive, that there muſt neceſſarily be a controuling power exiſting ſomewhere, and they placed this power in the diſcretion of the perſons exerciſing the government, inſtead of placing it in a conſtitution formed by the nation. When it is in a conſtitution, it has the nation for its ſupport, and the natural and the political controuling powers are together. The laws which are enacted by governments, controul men only as individuals, [51] but the nation, through its conſtitution, controuls the whole government, and has a natural ability ſo to do. The final controuling power, therefore, and the original conſtituting power, are one and the ſame power.

Dr. Johnſon could not have advanced ſuch a poſition in any country where there was a conſti⯑tution; and he is himſelf an evidence, that no ſuch thing as a conſtitution exiſts in England.—But it may be put as a queſtion, not improper to be in⯑veſtigated, That if a conſtitution does not exiſt, how came the idea of its exiſtence ſo generally eſtabliſhed?

In order to decide this queſtion, it is neceſſary to conſider a conſtitution in both its caſes:—Firſt, as creating a government and giving it powers. Secondly, as regulating and reſtraining the powers ſo given.

If we begin with William of Normandy, we find that the government of England was origi⯑nally a tyranny, founded on an invaſion and con⯑queſt of the country. This being admitted, it will then appear, that the exertion of the nation, at different periods, to abate that tyranny, and render it leſs intolerable, has been credited for a conſtitution.

Magna Charta, as it was called, (it is now like an almanack of the ſame date,) was no more than compelling the government to renounce a part of its aſſumptions. It did not create and give powers to government in the manner a con⯑ſtitution does; but was, as far as it went, of the [52] nature of a re-conqueſt, and not of a conſtitution; for could the nation have totally expelled the uſurpation, as France has done its deſpotiſm, it would then have had a conſtitution to form.

The hiſtory of the Edwards and the Henries, and up to the commencement of the Stuarts, exhibits as many inſtances of tyranny as could be acted within the limits to which the nation had reſtricted it. The Stuarts endeavoured to paſs thoſe limits, and their fate is well known. In all thoſe inſtances we ſee nothing of a conſtitution, but only of reſtrictions on aſſumed power.

After this, another William, deſcended from the ſame ſtock, and claiming from the ſame origin, gained poſſeſſion; and of the two evils, James and William, the nation preferred what it thought the leaſt; ſince, from circumſtances, it muſt take one. The act, called the Bill of Rights, comes here into view. What is it, but a bargain, which the parts of the government made with each other to divide powers, profits, and privileges? You ſhall have ſo much, and I will have the reſt; and with reſpect to the nation, it ſaid, for your ſhare, YOU ſhall have the right of petitioning. This being the caſe, the bill of rights is more properly a bill of wrongs, and of inſult. As to what is called the convention parliament, it was a thing that made itſelf, and then made the authority by which it acted. A few perſons got together, and called themſelves by that name. Several of them had never been elected, and none of them for the purpoſe.

From the time of William, a ſpecies of govern⯑ment [53] aroſe, iſſuing out of this coalition bill of rights; and more ſo, ſince the corruption intro⯑duced at the Hanover ſucceſſion, by the agency of Walpole; that can be deſcribed by no other name than a deſpotic legiſlation. Though the parts may embarraſs each other, the whole has no bounds; and the only right it acknowledges out of itſelf, is the right of petitioning. Where then is the conſtitution either that gives or that reſtrains power?

It is not becauſe a part of the government is elective, that makes it leſs a deſpotiſm, if the perſons ſo elected, poſſeſs afterwards, as a parlia⯑ment, unlimited powers. Election, in this caſe, becomes ſeparated from repreſentation, and the candidates are candidates for deſpotiſm.

I cannot believe that any nation, reaſoning on its own rights, would have thought of calling thoſe things a conſtitution, if the cry of conſtitu⯑tion had not been ſet up by the government. It has got into circulation like the words bore and quoz, by being chalked up in the ſpeeches of parliament, as thoſe words were on window ſhut⯑ters and door poſts; but whatever the conſtitu⯑tion may be in other reſpects, it has undoubtedly been the moſt productive machine of taxation that was ever invented. The taxes in France, under the new conſtitution, are not quite thirteen ſhillings per head ^*, and the taxes in England, [54] under what is called its preſent conſtitution, are forty-eight ſhillings and ſixpence per head, men, women, and children, amounting to nearly ſeven⯑teen millions ſterling, beſides the expence of col⯑lection, which is upwards of a million more.

In a country like England, where the whole of the civil government is executed by the people of every town and county, by means of pariſh officers, magiſtrates, quarterly ſeſſions, juries, and aſſize; without any trouble to what is called the govern⯑ment, or any other expence to the revenue than the ſalary of the judges, it is aſtoniſhing how ſuch a maſs of taxes can be employed. Not even the internal defence of the country is paid out of the revenue. On all occaſions, whether real or con⯑trived, recourſe is continually had to new loans and new taxes. No wonder, then, that a machine of government ſo advantageous to the advocates of a court, ſhould be ſo triumphantly extolled! No won⯑der, that St. James's or St. Stephen's ſhould echo with the continual cry of conſtitution! No wonder, that the French revolution ſhould be reprobated, and the res-publica treated with reproach! The red [55] book of England, like the red book of France, will explain the reaſon ^*.

I will now, by way of relaxation, turn a thought or two to Mr. Burke. I aſk his pardon for neg⯑lecting him ſo long.

"America," ſays he, (in his ſpeech on the Canada conſtitution bill) ‘never dreamed of ſuch abſurd doctrine as the Rights of Man.’

Mr. Burke is ſuch a bold preſumer, and ad⯑vances his aſſertions and his premiſes with ſuch a deficiency of judgment, that, without troubling ourſelves about principles of philoſophy or politics, the mere logical concluſions they pro⯑duce, are ridiculous. For inſtance,

If governments, as Mr. Burke aſſerts, are not founded on the Rights of MAN, and are founded on any rights at all, they conſequently muſt be founded on the rights of ſomething that is not man. What then is that ſomething?

Generally ſpeaking, we know of no other creatures that inhabit the earth than man and beaſt; and in all caſes, where only two things offer themſelves, and one muſt be admitted, a negation proved on any one, amounts to an affir⯑mative on the other; and therefore, Mr. Burke, by proving againſt the Rights of Man, proves in [56] behalf of the beaſt; and conſequently, proves that government is a beaſt: and as difficult things ſometimes explain each other, we now ſee the origin of keeping wild beaſts in the Tower; for they certainly can be of no other uſe than to ſhew the origin of the government. They are in the place of a conſtitution. O John Bull, what honours thou haſt loſt by not being a wild beaſt. Thou mighteſt, on Mr. Burke's ſyſtem, have been in the Tower for life.

If Mr. Burke's arguments have not weight enough to keep one ſerious, the fault is leſs mine than his; and as I am willing to make an apology to the reader for the liberty I have taken, I hope Mr. Burke will alſo make his for giving the cauſe.

Having thus paid Mr. Burke the compliment of remembering him, I return to the ſubject.

From the want of a conſtitution in England to reſtrain and regulate the wild impulſe of power, many of the laws are irrational and tyrannical, and the adminiſtration of them vague and pro⯑blematical.

The attention of the government of England, (for I rather chuſe to call it by this name, than the Engliſh government) appears, ſince its political connection with Germany, to have been ſo compleatly engroſſed and abſorbed by foreign affairs, and the means of raiſing taxes, that it ſeems to exiſt for no other purpoſes. Domeſtic concerns are neglected; and, with reſpect to regular law, there is ſcarcely ſuch a thing.

[57]Almoſt every caſe now muſt be determined by ſome precedent, be that precedent good or bad, or whether it properly applies or not; and the prac⯑tice is become ſo general, as to ſuggeſt a ſuſpicion, that it proceeds from a deeper policy than at firſt ſight appears.

Since the revolution of America, and more ſo ſince that of France, this preaching up the doctrine of precedents, drawn from times and circumſtances antecedent to thoſe events, has been the ſtudied practice of the Engliſh government. The gene⯑rality of thoſe precedents are founded on prin⯑ciples and opinions, the reverſe of what they ought; and the greater diſtance of time they are drawn from, the more they are to be ſuſpected. But by aſſociating thoſe precedents with a ſuper⯑ſtitious reverence for ancient things, as monks ſhew relics and call them holy, the generality of mankind are deceived into the deſign. Govern⯑ments now act as if they were afraid to awaken a ſingle reflection in man. They are ſoftly leading him to the ſepulchre of precedents, to deaden his faculties and call his attention from the ſcene of revolutions. They feel that he is arriving at knowledge faſter than they wiſh, and their policy of precedents is the barometer of their fears. This political popery, like the eccleſiaſtical popery of old, has had its day, and is haſtening to its exit. The ragged relic and the antiquated precedent, the monk and the monarch, will moul⯑der together.

Government by precedent, without any regard [58] to the principle of the precedent, is one of the vileſt ſyſtems that can be ſet up. In numerous inſtances, the precedent ought to operate as a warning, and not as an example, and requires to be ſhunned inſtead of imitated; but inſtead of this, precedents are taken in the lump, and put at once for conſtitution and for law.

Either the doctrine of precedents is policy to keep man in a ſtate of ignorance, or it is a prac⯑tical confeſſion that wiſdom degenerates in govern⯑ments as governments increaſe in age, and can only hobble along by the ſtilts and crutches of precedents. How is it that the ſame perſons who would proudly be thought wiſer than their predeceſſors, appear at the ſame time only as the ghoſts of departed wiſdom? How ſtrangely is an⯑tiquity treated! To anſwer ſome purpoſes it is ſpoken of as the times of darkneſs and ignorance, and to anſwer others, it is put for the light of the world.

If the doctrine of precedents, is to be followed, the expences of government need not continue the ſame. Why pay men extravagantly, who have but little to do? If every thing that can happen is already in precedent, legiſlation is at an end, and precedent, like a dictionary, determines every caſe. Either, therefore, government has arrived at its dotage, and requires to be reno⯑vated, or all the occaſions for exerciſing its wiſdom have occured.

We now ſee all over Europe, and particularly in England, the curions phaenomenon of a nation [59] looking one way, and a government the other— the one forward and the other backward. If governments are to go on by precedent, while nations go on by improvement, they muſt at laſt come to a final ſeparation; and the ſooner, and the more civilly, they determine this point, the better ^*.

Having thus ſpoken of conſtitutions generally, as things diſtinct from actual governments, let us proceed to conſider the parts of which a conſtitu⯑tion is compoſed.

Opinions differ more on this ſubject, than with reſpect to the whole. That a nation ought to have a conſtitution, as a rule for the conduct of its government, is a ſimple queſtion in which all men, not directly courtiers, will agree. It is only on the component parts that queſtions and opin⯑ions multiply.

[60]But this difficulty, like every other, will diminiſh when put into a train of being rightly underſtood.

The firſt thing is, that a nation has a right to eſtabliſh a conſtitution.

Whether it exerciſes this right in the moſt judicious manner at firſt, is quite another caſe. It exerciſes it agreeably to the judgment it poſ⯑ſeſſes; and by continuing to do ſo, all errors will at laſt be exploded.

When this right is eſtabliſhed in a nation, there is no fear that it will be employed to its own injury. A nation can have no intereſt in being wrong.

Though all the conſtitutions of America are on one general principle, yet no two of them are exactly alike in their component parts, or in the diſtribution of the powers which they give to the actual governments. Some are more, and others leſs complex.

In forming a conſtitution, it is firſt neceſſary to conſider what are the ends for which government is neceſſary? Secondly, what are the beſt means, and the leaſt expenſive, for accompliſhing thoſe ends?

Government is nothing more than a national aſſociation; and the object of this aſſociation is the good of all, as well individually as collec⯑tively. Every man wiſhes to purſue his occupa⯑tion, and to enjoy the fruits of his labours, and the produce of his property in peace and ſafety, and with the leaſt poſſible expence. When theſe [61] things are accompliſhed, all the objects for which government ought to be eſtabliſhed are anſwered.

It has been cuſtomary to conſider government under three diſtinct general heads. The legiſla⯑tive, the executive, and the judicial.

But if we permit our judgment to act unincum⯑bered by the habit of multiplied terms, we can perceive no more than two diviſions of power, of which civil government is compoſed, namely, that of legiſlating or enacting laws, and that of executing or adminiſtering them. Every thing, therefore, appertaining to civil government, claſſes itſelf under one or other of theſe two diviſions.

So far as regards the execution of the laws, that which is called the judicial power, is ſtrictly and properly the executive power of every country. It is that power to which every individual has appeal, and which cauſes the laws to be executed; neither have we any other clear idea with reſpect to the official execution of the laws. In England, and alſo in America and France, this power begins with the magiſtrate, and proceeds up through all the courts of judicature.

I leave to courtiers to explain what is meant by calling monarchy the executive power. It is merely a name in which acts of government are done; and any other, or none at all, would anſwer the ſame purpoſe. Laws have neither more nor leſs authority on this account. It muſt be from the juſtneſs of their principles, and the intereſt which a nation feels therein, that they derive ſupport; if [62] they require any other than this, it is a ſign that ſomething in the ſyſtem of government is imper⯑fect. Laws difficult to be executed cannot be generally good.

With reſpect to the organization of the legiſla⯑tive power, different modes have been adopted in different countries. In America it is generally compoſed of two houſes. In France it conſiſts but of one, but in both countries it is wholly by repreſentation.

The caſe is, that mankind (from the long tyranny of aſſumed power) have had ſo few oppor⯑tunities of making the neceſſary trials on modes and principles of government, in order to diſ⯑cover the beſt, that government is but now beginning to be known, and experience is yet wanting to de⯑termine many particulars.

The objections againſt two houſes are, firſt, that there is an inconſiſtency in any part of a whole legiſlature, coming to a final determination by vote on any matter, whilſt that matter, with reſpect to that whole, is yet only in a train of delibera⯑tion, and conſequently open to new illuſtrations.

Secondly, That by taking the vote on each, as a ſeparate body, it always admits of the poſſibility, and is often the caſe in practice, that the minority governs the majority, and that, in ſome inſtances, to a degree of great inconſiſtency.

Thirdly, That two houſes arbitrarily checking or controuling each other is inconſiſtent; becauſe it [63] cannot be proved, on the principles of juſt repreſen⯑tation, that either ſhould be wiſer or better than the other. They may check in the wrong as well as in the right,—and therefore, to give the power where we cannot give the wiſdom to uſe it, nor be aſſured of its being rightly uſed, renders the hazard at leaſt equal to the precaution ^*.

[64]The objection againſt a ſingle houſe is, that it is always in a condition of committing itſelf too ſoon.—But it ſhould at the ſame time be remem⯑bered, that when there is a conſtitution which de⯑fines the power, and eſtabliſhes the principles within which a legiſlature ſhall act, there is al⯑ready a more effectual check provided, and more powerfully operating, than any other check can be. For example,

Were a bill to be brought into any of the Ame⯑rican legiſlatures, ſimilar to that which was paſſed into an act by the Engliſh parliament, at the com⯑mencement of George the Firſt, to extend the du⯑ration of the aſſemblies to a longer period than they now ſit, the check is in the conſtitution, which in effect ſays, Thus far ſhalt thou go and no further.

But in order to remove the objection againſt a ſingle houſe, (that of acting with too quick an impulſe▪ and at the ſame time to avoid the incon⯑ſiſtencies, in ſome caſes abſurdities, ariſing from two houſes, the following method has been pro⯑poſed as an improvement upon both.

Firſt, To have but one repreſentation.

Secondly, To divide that repreſentation, by lot, into two or three parts.

Thirdly, That every propoſed bill, ſhall be firſt debated in thoſe parts by ſucceſſion, that they may become the hearers of each other, but without taking any vote. After which the whole repre⯑ſentation [65] to aſſemble for a general debate and de⯑termination by vote.

To this propoſed improvement has been added another, for the purpoſe of keeping the repreſen⯑tation in a ſtate of conſtant renovation▪ which is, that one-third of the repreſentation of each county, ſhall go out at the expiration of one year, and the number be replaced by new elections.—Another third at the expiration of the ſecond year replaced in like manner, and every third year to be a ge⯑neral election ^*.

But in whatever manner the ſeparate parts of a conſtitution may be arranged, there is one general principle that diſtinguiſhes freedom from ſlavery, which is, that all hereditary government over a people is to them a ſpecies of ſlavery, and repreſen⯑tative government is freedom.

Conſidering government in the only light in which it ſhould be conſidered, that of a NA⯑TIONAL ASSOCIATION; it ought to be ſo con⯑ſtructed as not to be diſordered by any accident happening among the parts; and, therefore, no extraordinary power, capable of producing ſuch an effect, ſhould be lodged in the hands of any indi⯑vidual. The death, ſickneſs, abſence, or defec⯑tion, [66] of any one individual in a government, ought to be a matter of no more conſequence, with reſpect to the nation, than if the ſame circum⯑ſtance had taken place in a member of the Engliſh Parliament, or the French National Aſ⯑ſembly.

Scarcely any thing preſents a more degrading character of national greatneſs, than its being thrown into confuſion by any thing happening to, or acted by, an individual; and the ridiculouſneſs of the ſcene is often increaſed by the natural inſignificance of the perſon by whom it is occaſioned. Were a government ſo conſtructed, that it could not go on unleſs a gooſe or a gander were preſent in the ſenate, the difficulties would be juſt as great and as real on the flight or ſickneſs of the gooſe, or the gander, as if it were called a King. We laugh at individuals for the ſilly difficulties they make to themſelves, without perceiving, that the greateſt of all ridiculous things are acted in go⯑vernments ^*.

[67]All the conſtitutions of America are on a plan that excludes the childiſh embarraſſments which occur in monarchical countries. No ſuſpenſion of government can there take place for a moment, from any circumſtance whatever. The ſyſtem of repreſentation provides for every thing, and is the only ſyſtem in which nations and governments can always appear in their proper character.

As extraordinary power, ought not to be lodged in the hands of any individual, ſo ought there to be no appropriations of public money to any per⯑ſon, beyond what his ſervices in a ſtate may be worth. It ſignifies not whether a man be called a preſident, a king, an emperor, a ſenator, or by any other name, which propriety or folly may deviſe, or arrogance aſſume, it is only a certain ſervice he can perform in the ſtate; and the ſer⯑vice of any ſuch individual in the rotine of office, whether ſuch office be called monarchical, preſi⯑dential, ſenatorial, or by any other name or title, can never exceed the value of ten thouſand [68] pounds a year. All the great ſervices that are done in the world are performed by volunteer characters, who accept nothing for them; but the rotine of office is always regulated to ſuch a general ſtandard of abilities as to be within the compaſs of numbers in every country to per⯑form, and therefore cannot merit very extraor⯑dinary recompence. Government, ſays Swift, is a plain thing, and fitted to the capacity of many heads.

It is inhuman to talk of a million ſterling a year, paid out of the public taxes of any country, for the ſupport of any individual, whilſt thouſands who are forced to contribute thereto, are pining with want, and ſtruggling with miſery. Govern⯑ment does not conſiſt in a contraſt between priſons and palaces, between poverty and pomp; it is not inſtituted to rob the needy of his mite, and increaſe the wretchedneſs of the wretched.—But of this part of the ſubject I ſhall ſpeak hereafter, and confine myſelf at preſent to political obſer⯑vations.

When extraordinary power and extraordinary pay are allotted to any individual in a govern⯑ment, he becomes the center, round which every kind of corruption generates and forms. Give to any man a million a year, and add thereto the power of creating and diſpoſing of places, at the expence of a country, and the liberties of that country are no longer ſecure. What is called the ſplendor of a throne is no other than the corrup⯑tion [69] of the ſtate. It is made up of a band of pa⯑raſites, living in luxurious indolence, out of the public taxes.

When once ſuch a vicious ſyſtem is eſtabliſhed it becomes the guard and protection of all inferior abuſes. The man who is in the receipt of a mil⯑lion a year is the laſt perſon to promote a ſpirit of reform, leſt, in the event, it ſhould reach to him⯑ſelf. It is always his intereſt to defend inferior abuſes, as ſo many out-works to protect the cita⯑del; and in this ſpecies of political fortification, all the parts have ſuch a common dependence that it is never to be expected they will attack each other ^*.

[70]Monarchy would not have continued ſo many ages in the world, had it not been for the abuſes it protects. It is the maſter-fraud, which ſhelters all others. By admitting a participation of the ſpoil, it makes itſelf friends; and when it ceaſes to do this, it will ceaſe to be the idol of courtiers.

As the principle on which conſtitutions are now formed rejects all hereditary pretentions to government, it alſo rejects all that catalogue of aſſumptions known by the name of preroga⯑tives.

If there is any government where prerogatives might with apparent ſafety be entruſted to any individual, it is in the foederal government of America. The Preſident of the United States of America is elected only for four years. He is not only reſponſible in the general ſenſe of the word, but a particular mode is laid down in the conſtitution for trying him. He cannot be elected under thirty-five years of age; and he muſt be a native of the country.

In a compariſon of theſe caſes with the govern⯑ment of England, the difference when applied to the latter amounts to an abſurdity. In England the perſon who exerciſes prerogative is often a [71] foreigner; always half a foreigner, and always married to a foreigner. He is never in full natural or political connection with the country, is not reſponſible for any thing, and becomes of age at eighteen years; yet ſuch a perſon is per⯑mitted to form foreign alliances, without even the knowledge of the nation, and to make war and peace without its conſent.

But this is not all. Though ſuch a perſon cannot diſpoſe of the government, in the manner of a teſtator, he dictates the marriage connections, which, in effect, accompliſhes a great part of the ſame end. He cannot directly bequeath half the government to Pruſſia, but he can form a marriage partnerſhip that will produce almoſt the ſame thing. Under ſuch circumſtances, it is happy for England that ſhe is not ſituated on the continent, or ſhe might, like Holland, fall under the dicta⯑torſhip of Pruſſia. Holland, by marriage, is as effectually governed by Pruſſia, as if the old tyranny of bequeathing the government had been the means.

The preſidency in America, (or, as it is ſome⯑times called, the executive,) is the only office from which a foreigner is excluded, and in England it is the only one to which he is ad⯑mitted. A foreigner cannot be a member of parliament, but he may be what is called a king. If there is any reaſon for excluding foreigners, it ought to be from thoſe offices where miſchief can moſt be acted, and where, by uniting every [72] bias of intereſt and attachment, the truſt is beſt ſecured.

But as nations proceed in the great buſineſs of forming conſtitutions, they will examine with more preciſion into the nature and buſineſs of that department which is called the executive. What the legiſlative and judicial departments are, every one can ſee; but with reſpect to what, in Europe, is called the executive, as diſtinct from thoſe two, it is either a political ſuperfluity or a chaos of unknown things.

Some kind of official department, to which reports ſhall be made from the different parts of a nation, or from abroad, to be laid before the national repreſentatives, is all that is neceſſary; but there is no conſiſtency in calling this the executive; neither can it be conſidered in any other light than as inferior to the legiſlative. The ſovereign authority in any country is the power of making laws, and every thing elſe is an official department.

Next to the arrangement of the principles and the organization of the ſeveral parts of a conſti⯑tution, is the proviſion to be made for the ſup⯑port of the perſons to whom the nation ſhall confide the adminiſtration of the conſtitutional powers.

A nation can have no right to the time and ſervices of any perſon at his own expence, whom it may chuſe to employ or entruſt in any depart⯑ment whatever; neither can any reaſon be given [73] for making proviſion for the ſupport of any one part of a government and not for the other.

But, admitting that the honour of being en⯑truſted with any part of a government is to be conſidered a ſufficient reward, it ought to be ſo to every perſon alike. If the members of the legiſlature of any country are to ſerve at their own expence, that which is called the executive, whether monarchical, or by any other name, ought to ſerve in like manner. It is inconſiſtent to pay the one, and accept the ſervice of the other gratis.

In America, every department in the govern⯑ment is decently provided for; but no one is extravagantly paid. Every member of Congreſs, and of the aſſemblies, is allowed a ſufficiency for his expences. Whereas in England, a moſt prodigal proviſion is made for the ſupport of one part of the government, and none for the other, the conſequence of which is, that the one is furniſhed with the means of corruption, and the other is put into the condition of being corrupted. Leſs than a fourth part of ſuch expence, applied as it is in America, would remedy a great part of the corruption.

Another reform in the American conſtitutions, is the exploding all oaths of perſonality. The oath of allegiance in America is to the nation only. The putting any individual as a figure for a nation is improper. The happineſs of a nation is the ſuperior object, and therefore the intention [74] of an oath of allegiance ought not to be obſcured by being figuratively taken, to, or in the name of, any perſon. The oath, called the civic oath, in France, viz. the "nation, the law, and the king," is improper. If taken at all, it ought to be as in America, to the nation only. The law may or may not be good; but, in this place, it can have no other meaning, than as being conducive to the happineſs of the nation, and therefore is included in it. The remainder of the oath is improper, on the ground, that all perſonal oaths ought to be aboliſhed. They are the remains of tyranny on one part, and ſlavery on the other; and the name of the CREATOR ought not to be introduced to witneſs the degradation of his creation; or if taken, as is already mentioned, as figurative of the nation, it is in this place redundant. But whatever apology may be made for oaths at the firſt eſtabliſhment of a government, they ought not to be permitted afterwards. If a govern⯑ment requires the ſupport of oaths, it is a ſign that it is not worth ſupporting, and ought not to be ſupported. Make government what it ought to be, and it will ſupport itſelf.

To conclude this part of the ſubject:—One of the greateſt improvements that has been made for the perpetual ſecurity and progreſs of conſti⯑tutional liberty, is the proviſion which the new conſtitutions make for occaſionally reviſing, altering, and amending them.

The principle upon which Mr. Burke formed [75] his political creed, that ‘of binding and controul⯑ing poſterity to the end of time, and of renouncing and abdicating the rights of all poſterity for ever,’ is now become too deteſtable to be made a ſubject of debate; and, therefore, I paſs it over with no other notice than expoſing it.

Government is but now beginning to be known. Hitherto it has been the mere exer⯑ciſe of power, which forbad all effectual en⯑quiry into rights, and grounded itſelf wholly on poſſeſſion. While the enemy of liberty was its judge, the progreſs of its principles muſt have been ſmall indeed.

The conſtitutions of America, and alſo that of France, have either affixed a period for their re⯑viſion, or laid down the mode by which improve⯑ments ſhall be made. It is perhaps impoſſible to eſtabliſh any thing that combines principles with opinions and practice, which the progreſs of circumſtances, through a length of years, will not in ſome meaſure derange, or render inconſiſtent; and, therefore, to prevent inconveniences accu⯑mulating, till they diſcourage reformations or provoke revolutions, it is beſt to provide the means of regulating them as they occur. The Rights of Man are the rights of all generations of men, and cannot be monopolized by any. That which is worth following, will be followed for the ſake of its worth; and it is in this that its ſecurity lies, and not in any conditions with which it may be encumbered. When a man [76] leaves property to his heirs, he does not connect it with an obligation that they ſhall accept it. Why then ſhould we do otherwiſe with reſpect to conſtitutions?

The beſt conſtitution that could now be de⯑viſed, conſiſtent with the condition of the preſent moment, may be far ſhort of that excellence which a few years may afford. There is a morning of reaſon riſing upon man on the ſubject of government, that has not appeared before. As the barbariſm of the preſent old governments expires, the moral condition of nations with reſpect to each other will be changed. Man will not be brought up with the ſavage idea of conſidering his ſpecies as his enemy, becauſe the accident of birth gave the individuals exiſtence in countries diſtinguiſhed by different names; and as conſtitutions have always ſome relation to external as well as to domeſtic circum⯑ſtances, the means of benefiting by every change, foreign or domeſtic, ſhould be a part of every con⯑ſtitution.

We already ſee an alteration in the national diſpoſition of England and France towards each other, which, when we look back to only a few years, is itſelf a revolution. Who could have foreſeen, or who would have believed, that a French National Aſſembly would ever have been a popular toaſt in England, or that a friendly alliance of the two nations ſhould become the wiſh of either. It ſhews, that man, were he not [77] corrupted by governments, is naturally the friend of man, and that human nature is not of itſelf vicious. That ſpirit of jealouſy and ferocity, which the governments of the two countries inſpired, and which they rendered ſubſervient to the purpoſe of taxation, is now yielding to the dictates of reaſon, intereſt, and humanity. The trade of courts is beginning to be underſtood, and the affectation of myſtery, with all the artificial ſorcery by which they impoſed upon mankind, is on the decline. It has received its death-wound; and though it may linger, it will expire.

Government ought to be as much open to improvement as any thing which appertains to man, inſtead of which it has been monopo⯑lized from age to age, by the moſt ignorant and vicious of the human race. Need we any other proof of their wretched manage⯑ment, than the exceſs of debts and taxes with which every nation groans, and the quarrels into which they have precipitated the world?

Juſt emerging from ſuch a barbarous con⯑dition, it is too ſoon to determine to what extent of improvement government may yet be carried. For what we can foreſee, all Europe may form but one great republic, and man be free of the whole.

CHAP. V. WAYS AND MEANS of improving the condi⯑tion of EUROPE, interſperſed with MISCELLA⯑NEOUS OBSERVATIONS.

IN contemplating a ſubject that embraces with equatorial magnitude the whole region of hu⯑manity, it is impoſſible to confine the purſuit in one ſingle direction. It takes ground on every character and condition that appertains to man, and blends the individual, the nation, and the world.

From a ſmall ſpark, kindled in America, a flame has ariſen, not to be extinguiſhed. With⯑out conſuming, like the Ultima Ratio Regum, it winds its progreſs from nation to nation, and conquers by a ſilent operation. Man finds himſelf changed, he ſcarcely perceives how. He acquires a knowledge of his rights by attending juſtly to his intereſt, and diſcovers in the event that the ſtrength and powers of deſpotiſm conſiſt wholly in the fear of reſiſting it, and that, in order ‘to be free, it is ſufficient that he wills it.’

Having in all the preceding parts of this work endeavoured to eſtabliſh a ſyſtem of principles as a baſis, on which governments ought to be erected; I ſhall proceed in this, to the ways and means of rendering them into practice. But in order to introduce this part of the ſubject with [79] more propriety, and ſtronger effect, ſome preli⯑minary obſervations, deducible from, or connected with, thoſe principles, are neceſſary.

Whatever the form or conſtitution of govern⯑ment may be, it ought to have no other object than the general happineſs. When, inſtead of this, it operates to create and encreaſe wretchedneſs in any of the parts of ſociety, it is on a wrong ſyſ⯑tem, and reformation is neceſſary.

Cuſtomary language has claſſed the condition. of man under the two deſcriptions of civilized and uncivilized life. To the one it has aſcribed feli⯑city and affluence; to the other hardſhip and want. But, however, our imagination may be impreſſed by painting and compariſon, it is nevertheleſs true, that a great portion of mankind, in what are called civilized countries, are in a ſtate of poverty and wretchedneſs, far below the condi⯑tion of an Indian▪ I ſpeak not of one country, but of all. It is ſo in England, it is ſo all over Eu⯑rope. Let us enquire into the cauſe.

It lies not in any natural defect in the prin⯑ciples of civilization, but in preventing thoſe principles having an univerſal operation; the con⯑ſequence of which is, a perpetual ſyſtem of war and expence, that drains the country, and defeats the general felicity of which civilization is capa⯑ble.

All the European governments (France now excepted) are conſtructed not on the principle of univerſal civilization, but on the reverſe of it. So far as thoſe governments relate to each other, [80] they are in the ſame condition as we conceive of ſavage uncivilized life; they put themſelves be⯑yond the law as well of GOD as of man, and are, with reſpect to principle and reciprocal conduct, like ſo many individuals in a ſtate of nature.

The inhabitants of every country, under the civilization of laws, eaſily civilize together, but governments being yet in an uncivilized ſtate, and almoſt continually at war, they pervert the abun⯑dance which civilized life produces to carry on the uncivilized part to a greater extent. By thus engrafting the barbariſm of government upon the internal civilization of a country, it draws from the latter, and more eſpecially from the poor, a great portion of thoſe earnings, which ſhould be applied to their own ſubſiſtence and comfort.—A⯑part from all reflections of morality and philoſophy, it is a melancholy fact, that more than one-fourth of the labour of mankind is annually conſumed by this barbarous ſyſtem.

What has ſerved to continue this evil, is the pecuniary advantage, which all the governments of Europe have found in keeping up this ſtate of un⯑civilization. It affords to them pretences for power, and revenue, for which there would be neither occaſion nor apology, if the circle of civi⯑lization were rendered compleat. Civil govern⯑ment alone, or the government of laws, is not productive of pretences for many taxes; it ope⯑rates at home, directly under the eye of the coun⯑try, and precludes the poſſibility of much impoſi⯑tion. But when the ſcene is laid in the unciviliz⯑ed [81] contention of governments, the field of pre⯑tences is enlarged, and the country, being no longer a judge, is open to every impoſition, which governments pleaſe to act.

Not a thirtieth, ſcarely a fortieth, part of the taxes which are raiſed in England are either occaſioned by, or applied to, the purpoſes of civil government. It is not difficult to ſee, that the whole which the actual government does in this reſpect, is to enact laws, and that the country adminiſters and executes them, at its own ex⯑pence, by means of magiſtrates, juries, ſeſſions, and aſſize, over and above the taxes which it pays.

In this view of the caſe, we have two diſtinct characters of government; the one the civil government, or the government of laws, which operates at home, the other the court or cabi⯑net government, which operates abroad, on the rude plan of uncivilized life; the one attended with little charge, the other with boundleſs extra⯑vagance; and ſo diſtinct are the two, that if the latter were to ſink, as it were by a ſudden open⯑ing of the earth, and totally diſappear, the former would not be deranged. It would ſtill proceed, becauſe it is the common intereſt of the nation that it ſhould, and all the means are in practice.

Revolutions, then, have for their object, a change in the moral condition of governments, and with this change the burthen of public taxes will leſſen, and civilization will be left to the en⯑joyment of that abundance, of which it is now de⯑prived.

[82]In contemplating the whole of this ſubject, I extend my views into the department of com⯑merce. In all my publications, where the matter would admit, I have been an advocate for com⯑merce, becauſe I am a friend to its effects. It is a pacific ſyſtem, operating to cordialize mankind, by rendering nations, as well as individuals, uſeful to each other. As to mere theoretical reformation, I have never preached it up. The moſt effectual proceſs is that of improving the condition of man by means of his intereſt; and it is on this ground that I take my ſtand.

If commerce were permitted to act to the uni⯑verſal extent it is capable, it would extirpate the ſyſtem of war, and produce a revolution in the uncivilized ſtate of governments. The invention of commerce has ariſen ſince thoſe governments began, and is the greateſt approach towards uni⯑verſal civilization, that has yet been made by any means not immediately flowing from moral principles.

Whatever has a tendency to promote the civil intercourſe of nations, by an exchange of benefits, is a ſubject as worthy of philoſophy as of politics. Commerce is no other than the traffic of two indi⯑viduals, multiplied on a ſcale of numbers; and by the ſame rule that nature intended the inter⯑courſe of two, ſhe intended that of all. For this purpoſe ſhe has diſtributed the materials of manu⯑factures and commerce, in various and diſtant parts of a nation and of the world; and as they cannot be procured by war ſo cheaply or ſo com⯑modiouſly [83] as by commerce, ſhe has rendered the latter the means of extirpating the former.

As the two are nearly the oppoſites of each other, conſequently, the uncivilized ſtate of Eu⯑ropean governments is injurious to commerce. Every kind of deſtruction or embarraſſment ſerves to leſſen the quantity, and it matters but little in what part of the commercial world the reduction begins. Like blood, it cannot be taken from any of the parts, without being taken from the whole maſs in circulation, and all partake of the loſs. When the ability in any nation to buy is deſtroyed, it equally involves the ſeller. Could the government of England deſtroy the commerce of all other nations, ſhe would moſt effectually ruin her own.

It is poſſible that a nation may be the car⯑rier for the world, but ſhe cannot be the mer⯑chant. She cannot be the ſeller and the buyer of her own merchandize. The ability to buy muſt reſide out of herſelf; and, therefore, the proſperity of any commercial nation is regulated by the proſperity of the reſt. If they are poor ſhe cannot be rich, and her condition, be it what it may, is an index of the height of the commercial tide in other nations.

That the principles of commerce, and its uni⯑verſal operation may be underſtood, without un⯑derſtanding the practice, is a poſition that reaſon will not deny; and it is on this ground only that I argue the ſubject. It is one thing in the [84] counting-houſe, in the world it is another. With reſpect to its operation it muſt neceſſarily be contemplated as a reciprocal thing; that only one half its powers reſides within the nation, and that the whole is as effectually deſtroyed by de⯑ſtroying the half that reſides without, as if the deſtruction had been committed on that which is within; for neither can act without the other.

When in the laſt, as well as in former wars, the commerce of England ſunk, it was becauſe the general quantity was leſſened every where; and it now riſes, becauſe commerce is in a riſing ſtate in every nation. If England, at this day, imports and exports more than at any former period, the nations with which ſhe trades muſt neceſſarily do the ſame; [...] imports are their exports, and vice verſa.

There can be no ſuch thing as a nation flouriſh⯑ing alone in commerce; ſhe can only participate; and the deſtruction of it in any part muſt neceſ⯑ſarily affect all. When, therefore, governments are at war, the attack is made upon the common ſtock of commerce, and the conſequence is the ſame as if each had attacked his own.

The preſent increaſe of commerce is not to be attributed to miniſters, or to any political con⯑trivances, but to its own natural operations in conſequence of peace. The regular markets had been deſtroyed, the channels of trade broken up, the high road of the ſeas infeſted with robbers of every nation, and the attention of the world called to other objects. Thoſe interruptions have ceaſed, [85] and peace has reſtored the deranged condition of things to their proper order ^*.

It is worth remarking, that every nation reck⯑ons the balance of trade in its own favour; and therefore ſomething muſt be irregular in the common ideas upon this ſubject.

The fact, however, is true, according to what is called a balance; and it is from this cauſe that commerce is univerſally ſupported. Every nation feels the advantage, or it would abandon the practice: but the deception lies in the mode of making up the accounts, and in attributing what are called profits to a wrong cauſe.

Mr. Pitt has ſometimes amuſed himſelf, by ſhewing what he called a balance of trade from the cuſtom-houſe books. This mode of calcula⯑tion, not only affords no rule that is true, but one that is falſe.

In the firſt place, Every cargo that departs from the cuſtom-houſe, appears on the books as an export; and, according to the cuſtom-houſe balance, the loſſes at ſea, and by foreign failures, [86] are all reckoned on the ſide of profit, becauſe they appear as exports.

Secondly, Becauſe the importation by the ſmuggling trade does not appear on the cuſtom-houſe books, to arrange againſt the exports.

No balance, therefore, as applying to ſuperior advantages, can be drawn from thoſe documents; and if we examine the natural operation of com⯑merce, the idea is fallacious; and if true, would ſoon be injurious. The great ſupport of com⯑merce conſiſts in the balance being a level of benefits among all nations.

Two merchants of different nations trading to⯑gether, will both become rich, and each makes the balance in his own favour; conſequently, they do not get rich out of each other; and it is the ſame with reſpect to the nations in which they reſide. The caſe muſt be, that each nation muſt get rich out of its own means, and increaſes that riches by ſomething which it procures from another in exchange.

If a merchant in England ſends an article of Engliſh manufacture abroad, which coſts him a ſhilling at home, and imports ſomething which ſells for two, he makes a balance of one ſhilling in his own favour: but this is not gained out of the foreign nation or the foreign merchant, for he alſo does the ſame by the article he receives, and neither has a balance of advantage upon the other. The original value of the two articles in their proper countries were but two ſhillings; but by [87] changing their places, they acquire a new idea of value, equal to double what they had at firſt, and that increaſed value is equally divided.

There is no otherwiſe a balance on foreign than on domeſtic commerce. The merchants of London and Newcaſtle trade on the ſame princi⯑ples, as if they reſided in different nations, and make their balances in the ſame manner: yet London does not get rich out of Newcaſtle, any more than Newcaſtle out of London: but coals, the merchandize of Newcaſtle, have an additional value at London, and London merchandize has the ſame at Newcaſtle.

Though the principle of all commerce is the ſame, the domeſtic, in a national view, is the part the moſt beneficial; becauſe the whole of the advantages, on both ſides, reſts within the nation; whereas, in foreign commerce, it is only a participation of one half.

The moſt unprofitable of all commerce is that connected with foreign dominion. To a few individuals it may be beneficial, merely becauſe it is commerce; but to the nation it is a loſs. The expence of maintaining dominion more than abſorbs the profits of any trade. It does not increaſe the general quantity in the world, but operates to leſſen it; and as a greater maſs would be afloat by relinquiſhing dominion, the partici⯑pation without the expence would be more valu⯑able than a greater quantity with it.

But it is impoſſible to engroſs commerce by [88] dominion; and therefore it is ſtill more fallacious. It cannot exiſt in confined channels, and neceſ⯑ſarily breaks out by regular or irregular means, that defeat the attempt; and to ſucceed would be ſtill worſe. France, ſince the revolution, has been more than indifferent as to foreign poſſeſ⯑ſions; and other nations will become the ſame, when they inveſtigate the ſubject with reſpect to commerce.

To the expence of dominion is to be added that of navies, and when the amount of the two are ſubtracted from the profits of commerce, it will appear, that what is called the balance of trade, even admitting it to exiſt, is not enjoyed by the nation, but abſorbed by the government.

The idea of having navies for the protection of commerce is deluſive. It is putting the means of deſtruction for the means of protection. Com⯑merce needs no other protection than the recipro⯑cal intereſt which every nation feels in ſupport⯑ing it—it is common ſtock—it exiſts by a balance of advantages to all; and the only inter⯑ruption it meets, is from the preſent uncivilized ſtate of governments, and which it is its com⯑mon intereſt to reform ^*.

[89]Quitting this ſubject, I now proceed to other matters.—As it is neceſſary to include England in the proſpect of a general reformation, it is proper to enquire into the defects of its govern⯑ment. It is only by each na [...] reforming its own, that the whole can be improved and the full benefit of reformation enjoyed. [...] partial advantages can flow from partial reforms.

France and England are the only two [...]ntries in Europe where a reformation in government could have ſucceſsfully begun. The one [...]ure by the ocean, and the other by the immen [...] of its internal ſtrength, could defy the maligna [...]cy of foreign deſpotiſm. But it is with revolutions as with commerce, the advantages increaſe by their becoming general, and double to either what each would receive alone.

As a new ſyſtem is now opening to the view of the world, the European courts are plotting to counteract it. Alliances, contrary to all former ſyſtems, are agitating, and a common intereſt of courts is forming againſt the common intereſt of man. This combination draws a line that runs throughout Europe, and preſents a cauſe ſo entirely new, as to exclude all calculations from former circumſtances. While deſpotiſm warred with deſpotiſm, man had no intereſt in the con⯑teſt; but in a cauſe that unites the ſoldier with the citizen, and nation with nation, the deſpotiſm of courts, though it feels the danger, and medi⯑tates revenge, is afraid to ſtrike.

[90]No queſtion has ariſen within the records of hiſtory that preſſed with the importance of the preſent. It is not whether this or that party ſhall be in or out, or whig or tory, or high or low ſhall prevail; but whether man ſhall inherit his rights, and univerſal civilization take place? Whether the fruits of his labours ſhall be enjoyed by himſelf, or conſumed by the profligacy of governments? Whether robbery ſhall be baniſhed from courts, and wretchedneſs from countries?

When, in countries that are called civilized, we ſee age going to the workhouſe and youth to the gallows, ſomething muſt be wrong in the ſyſtem of government. It would ſeem, by the exterior appearance of ſuch countries, that all was happineſs; but there lies hidden from the eye of common obſervation, a maſs of wretchedneſs that has ſcarcely any other chance, than to expire in poverty or infamy. Its entrance into life is marked with the preſage of its fate; and until this is remedied, it is in vain to puniſh.

Civil government does not conſiſt in execu⯑tions; but in making that proviſion for the in⯑ſtruction of youth, and the ſupport of age, as to exclude, as much as poſſible, profligacy from the one, and deſpair from the other. Inſtead of this, the reſources of a country are laviſhed upon kings, upon courts, upon hirelings, impoſters, and proſtitutes; and even the poor themſelves, with all their wants upon them, are compelled to ſupport the fraud that oppreſſes them.

[91]Why is it, that ſcarcely any are executed but the poor? The fact is a proof, among other things, of a wretchedneſs in their condition. Bred up without morals, and caſt upon the world without a proſpect, they are the expoſed ſacrifice of vice and legal barbarity. The millions that are ſuperfluouſly waſted upon governments, are more than ſufficient to reform thoſe evils, and to benefit the condition of every man in a nation, not included within the purl [...]eus of a court. This I hope to make appear in the progreſs of this work.

It is the nature of compaſſion to aſſociate with misfortune. In taking up this ſubject I ſeek no recompence—I fear no conſequence. Fortified with that proud integrity, that diſdains to tri⯑umph or to yield, I will advocate the Rights of Man.

It is to my advantage that I have ſerved an apprenticeſhip to life. I know the value of moral inſtruction, and I have ſeen the danger of the contrary.

At an early period, little more than ſixteen years of age, raw and adventurous, and heated with the falſe heroiſm of a maſter^* who had ſerved in a man of war, I began the carver of my own fortune, and entered on board the Terrible, Privateer, Capt. Death. From this adventure I [92] was happily prevented by the affectionate and moral remonſtrance of a good father, who, from his own habits of life, being of the Quaker pro⯑feſſion, muſt begin to look upon me as loſt. But the impreſſion, much as it effected at the time, began to wear away, and I entered after⯑wards in the King of Pruſſia Privateer, Capt. Mendez, and went with her to ſea. Yet, from ſuch a beginning, and with all the inconvenience of early life againſt me, I am proud to ſay, that with a perſeverance undiſmayed by difficulties, a diſintereſtedneſs that compelled reſpect, I have not only contributed to raiſe a new empire in the world, founded on a new ſyſtem of govern⯑ment, but I have arrived at an eminence in political literature, the moſt difficult of all lines to ſucceed and excel in, which ariſtocracy, with all its aids, has not been able to reach or to rival.

Knowing my own heart, and feeling myſelf, as I now do, ſuperior to all the ſkirmiſh of party, the inveteracy of intereſted or miſtaken opponents, I anſwer not to falſehood or abuſe, but proceed to the defects of the Engliſh govern⯑ment^*.

I begin with charters and corporations.

[93]It is a perverſion of terms to ſay, that a charter gives rights. It operates by a contrary effect, that of taking rights away. Rights are inherently [94] in all the inhabitants; but charters, by annulling thoſe rights in the majority, leave the right by [95] excluſion in the hands of a few. If charters were conſtructed ſo as to expreſs in direct terms, ‘[96]that every inhabitant, who is not a member of a corporation, ſhall not exerciſe the right of voting,’ ſuch charters would, in the face, be charters, not of rights, but of excluſion. The effect is the ſame under the form they now ſtand; and the only perſons on whom they operate, are the perſons whom they exclude. Thoſe whoſe rights are guaranteed, by not being taken away, exer⯑ciſe no other rights, than as members of the com⯑munity they are entitled to without a charter; and, therefore, all charters have no other than an indirect negative operation. They do not give rights to A, but they make a difference in favour of A by taking away the right of B, and conſe⯑quently are inſtruments of injuſtice.

But charters and corporations have a more extenſive evil effect, than what relates merely to elections. They are ſources of endleſs conten⯑tions in the places where they exiſt; and they leſſen the common rights of national ſociety. A native of England, under the operation of theſe charters and corporations, cannot be ſaid to be an Engliſhman in the full ſenſe of the word. He is not free of the nation, in the ſame manner [97] that a Frenchman is free of France, and an American of America. His rights are circum⯑ſcribed to the town, and, in ſome caſes, to the pariſh of his birth; and all other parts, though in his native land, are to [...]m as a foreign country. To acquire a reſidence in theſe, he muſt undergo a local naturalization by purchaſe, or he is for⯑bidden or expelled the place. This ſpecies of feudality is kept up to aggrandize the corpora⯑tions at the ruin of towns; and the effect is viſible.

The generality of corporation towns are in a ſtate of ſolitary decay, and prevented from further ruin, only by ſome circumſtance in their ſituation, ſuch as a navigable river, or a plentiful ſurrounding country. As population is one of the chief ſources of wealth, (for without it land itſelf has no value,) every thing which operates to prevent it muſt leſſen the value of property; and as corporations have not only this tendency, but directly this effect, they cannot but be injurious. If any policy were to be followed, inſtead of that of general freedom, to every perſon to ſettle where he choſe, (as in France or America,) it would be more conſiſtent to give encouragement to new comers, than to preclude their admiſſion by exacting premiums from them ^*.

[98]The perſons moſt immediately intereſted in the abolition of corporations, are the inhabitants of the towns where corporations are eſtabliſhed. The inſtances of Mancheſter, Birmingham, and Sheffield, ſhew, by contraſt, the injury which thoſe Gothic inſtitutions are to property and com⯑merce. A few examples may be found, ſuch as that of London, whoſe natural and commercial advantage, owing to its ſituation on the Thames, is capable of bearing up againſt the political evils of a corporation; but in almoſt all other caſes the fatality is too viſible to be doubted or denied.

Though the whole nation is not ſo directly affected by the depreſſion of property in corpora⯑tion towns as the inhabitants themſelves, it par⯑takes of the conſequence. By leſſening the value of property, the quantity of national commerce is curtailed. Every man is a cuſtomer in propor⯑tion to his ability; and as all parts of a nation trade with each other, whatever affects any of [99] the parts, muſt neceſſarily communicate to the whole.

As one of the houſes of the Engliſh parlia⯑ment is, in a great meaſure, made up of elections from theſe corporations; and as it is unnatural that a pure ſtream ſhould flow from a foul foun⯑tain, its vices are but a continuation of the vices of its origin. A man of moral honour and good political principles, cannot ſubmit to the mean drudgery and diſgraceful arts, by which ſuch elections are carried. To be a ſucceſsful candi⯑date, he muſt be deſtitute of the qualities that con⯑ſtitute a juſt legiſlator: and being thus diſciplined to corruption by the mode of entering into parlia⯑ment, it is not to be expected that the repreſen⯑tative ſhould be better than the man.

Mr. Burke, in ſpeaking of the Engliſh repre⯑ſentation, has advanced as bold a challenge as ever was given in the days of chivalry. ‘Our repreſentation,’ ſays he, ‘has been found perfectly adequate to all the purpoſes for which a repreſentation of the people can be deſired or deviſed. I defy,’ continues he, ‘the enemies of our conſtitution to ſhew the contrary.’— This declaration from a man, who has been in conſtant oppoſition to all the meaſures of parlia⯑ment the whole of his political life, a year or two excepted, is moſt extraordinary; and, comparing him with himſelf, admits of no other alter⯑native, than that he acted againſt his judgment as a member, or has declared contrary to it as an author.

[100]But it is not in the repreſentation only that the defects lie, and therefore I proceed in the next place to the ariſtocracy.

What is called the Houſe of Peers, is conſti⯑tuted on a ground very ſimilar to that, againſt which there is a law in other caſes. It amounts to a combination of perſons in one common intereſt. No reaſon can be given, why an houſe of legiſlation ſhould be compoſed entirely of men whoſe occupation conſiſts in letting landed pro⯑perty, than why it ſhould be compoſed of thoſe who hire, or of brewers, or bakers, or any other ſeparate claſs of men.

Mr. Burke calls this houſe, ‘the great ground and pillar of ſecurity to the landed intereſt.’ Let us examine this idea.

What pillar of ſecurity does the landed intereſt require more than any other intereſt in the ſtate, or what right has it to a diſtinct and ſeparate repreſentation from the general intereſt of a nation? The only uſe to be made of this power, (and which it has always made,) is to ward off taxes from itſelf, and throw the burthen upon ſuch articles of conſumption by which itſelf would be leaſt affected.

That this has been the conſequence, (and will always be the conſequence of conſtructing govern⯑ments on combinations,) is evident with reſpect to England, from the hiſtory of its taxes.

Notwithſtanding taxes have encreaſed and mul⯑tiplied upon every article of common conſump⯑tion, [101] the land-tax, which more particularly affects this "pillar," has diminiſhed. In 1788, the amount of the land-tax was 1,950,000 £. which is half a million leſs than it produced almoſt an hundred years ago ^*, notwithſtanding the rentals are in many inſtances doubled ſince that period.

Before the coming of the Hanoverians, the taxes were divided in nearly equal proportions between the land and articles of conſumption, the land bearing rather the largeſt ſhare: but ſince that aera, nearly thirteen millions annually of new taxes have been thrown upon conſumption. The conſequence of which has been a conſtant encreaſe in the number and wretchedneſs of the poor, and in the amount of the poor-rates. Yet here again the burthen does not fall in equal proportions on the ariſtocracy with the reſt of the community. Their reſidences, whether in town or country, are not mixed with the habitations of the poor. They live apart from diſtreſs, and the expence of relieving it. It is in manufac⯑turing towns and labouring villages that thoſe burthens preſs the heavieſt; in many of which it is one claſs of poor ſupporting another.

Several of the moſt heavy and productive taxes are ſo contrived, as to give an exemption to this pillar, thus ſtanding in its own defence. The tax upon beer brewed for ſale does not affect the ari⯑ſtocracy, [102] who brew their own beer free of this duty. It falls only on thoſe who have not con⯑veniency or ability to brew, and who muſt pur⯑chaſe it in ſmall quantities. But what will man⯑kind think of the juſtice of taxation, when they know, that this tax alone, from which the ari⯑ſtocracy are from circumſtances exempt, is nearly equal to the whole of the land-tax, being in the year 1788, and it is not leſs now, 1,666,152 £. and with its proportion of the taxes on malt and hops, it exceeds it.—That a ſingle article, thus partially conſumed, and that chiefly by the work⯑ing part, ſhould be ſubject to a tax, equal to that on the whole rental of a nation, is, perhaps, a fact not to be paralleled in the hiſtories of revenues.

This is one of the conſequences reſulting from an houſe of legiſlation, compoſed on the ground of a combination of common intereſt; for what⯑ever their ſeparate politics as to parties may be, in this they are united. Whether a combination acts to raiſe the price of any article for ſale, or the rate of wages; or whether it acts to throw taxes from itſelf upon another claſs of the com⯑munity, the principle and the effect are the ſame; and if the one be illegal, it will be difficult to ſhew that the other ought to exiſt.

It is to no uſe to ſay, that taxes are firſt propoſed in the houſe of commons; for as the other houſe has always a negative, it can always defend itſelf; and it would be ridiculous to ſuppoſe that its acquieſcence in the meaſures to be propoſed were not underſtood before hand. Beſides which, it [103] has [...] ſo much influence by borough-traffic, and ſo many of its relations [...] connec⯑tions are diſtributed on both ſides of the com⯑mons, as to give it, beſides an abſolute negative in one houſe, a preponderancy in the other, in all matters of common concern.

It is difficult to diſcover what is meant by the landed intereſt, if it does not mean a combination of ariſtocratical land-holders, oppoſing their own pecuniary intereſt to that of the farmer, and every branch of trade, commerce, and manufacture. In all other reſpects it is the only intereſt that needs no partial protection. It enjoys the general protection of the world. Every individual, high or low, is intereſted in the fruits of the earth; men, women, and children, of all ages and degrees, will turn out to aſſiſt the farmer, rather than a harveſt ſhould not be got in; and they will not act thus by any other property. It is the only one for which the common prayer of man⯑kind is put up, and the only one that can never fail from the want of means. It is the intereſt, not of the policy, but of the exiſtence of man, and when it ceaſes he muſt ceaſe to be.

No other intereſt in a nation ſtands on the ſame united ſupport. Commerce, manufactures, arts, ſciences, and every thing elſe, compared with this, are ſupported but in parts. Their proſperity or their decay has not the ſame uni⯑verſal influence. When the vallies laugh and [104] ſing, it is not the farmer only, but all creation that rejoices. It is a proſperity that excludes all envy; and this cannot be ſaid of any thing elſe.

Why then does Mr. Burke talk of his houſe of peers, as the pillar of the landed intereſt? Were that pillar to ſink into the earth, the ſame landed property would continue, and the ſame plough⯑ing, ſowing, and reaping would go on. The ariſtocracy are not the farmers who work the land, and raiſe the produce, but are the mere conſumers of the rent; and when compared with the active world, are the drones, a ſeraglio of males, who neither collect the honey nor form the hive, but exiſt only for lazy enjoyment.

Mr. Burke, in his firſt eſſay, called ariſtocracy, "the Corinthian capital of poliſhed ſociety." To⯑wards compleating the figure, he has now added the pillar; but ſtill the baſe is wanting; and whenever a nation chuſes to act a Samſon, not blind, but bold, down go the temple of Dagon, the Lords and the Philiſtines.

If a houſe of legiſlation is to be compoſed of men of one claſs, for the purpoſe of protecting a diſtinct intereſt, all the other intereſts ſhould have the ſame. The inequality, as well as the burthen of taxation, ariſes from admitting it in one caſe, and not in all. Had there been an houſe of farmers, there had been no game laws; or an houſe of merchants and manufacturers, the taxes had neither been ſo unequal nor ſo exceſ⯑ſive. It is from the power of taxation being in [105] the hands of thoſe who can throw ſo great a part of it from their own ſhoulders, that it has raged without a check.

Men of ſmall or moderate eſtates, are more injured by the taxes being thrown on articles of conſumption, than they are eaſed by warding it from landed property, for the following reaſons:

Firſt, They conſume more of the productive taxable articles, in proportion to their property, than thoſe of large eſtates.

Secondly, Their reſidence is chiefly in towns, and their property in houſes; and the encreaſe of the poor-rates, occaſioned by taxes on conſump⯑tion, is in much greater proportion than the land-tax has been favoured. In Birmingham, the poor-rates are not leſs than ſeven ſhillings in the pound. From this, as is already obſerved, the ariſtocracy are in a great meaſure exempt.

Theſe are but a part of the miſchiefs flowing from the wretched ſcheme of an houſe of peers.

As a combination, it can always throw a con⯑ſiderable portion of taxes from itſelf; and as an hereditary houſe, accountable to nobody, it reſembles a rotten borough, whoſe conſent is to be courted by intereſt. There are but few of its members, who are not in ſome mode or other participaters, or diſpoſers of the public money. One turns a candle-holder, or a lord in waiting; another a lord of the bed-chamber, a groom of the ſtole, or any inſignificant nominal office, to which a ſalary is annexed, paid out of the public [106] taxes, and which avoids the direct appearance of corruption. Such ſituations are derogatory to the character of man; and where they can be ſubmitted to, honour cannot reſide.

To all theſe are to be added the numerous dependants, the long liſt of younger branches and diſtant relations, who are to be provided for at the public expence: in ſhort, were an eſtima⯑tion to be made of the charge of ariſtocracy to a nation, it will be found nearly equal to that of ſupporting the poor. The Duke of Richmond alone (and there are caſes ſimilar to his) takes away as much for himſelf as would maintain two thouſand poor and aged perſons. Is it, then, any wonder, that under ſuch a ſyſtem of government, taxes and rates have multiplied to their preſent extent?

In ſtating theſe matters, I ſpeak an open and diſintereſted language, dictated by no paſſion but that of humanity. To me, who have not only refuſed offers, becauſe I thought them improper, but have declined rewards I might with reputa⯑tion have accepted, it is no wonder that meanneſs and impoſition appear diſguſtful. Independence is my happineſs, and I view things as they are, without regard to place or perſon; my country is the world, and my religion is to do good.

Mr. Burke, in ſpeaking of the ariſtocratical law of primogeniture, ſays, ‘it is the ſtanding law of our landed inheritance; and which, without queſtion, has a tendency, and I think,’ [107] continues he, ‘a happy tendency, to preſerve a character of weight and conſequence.’

Mr. Burke may call this law what he pleaſes, but humanity and impartial reflection will de⯑nounce it a law of brutal injuſtice. Were we not accuſtomed to the daily practice, and did we only hear of it as the law of ſome diſtant part of the world, we ſhould conclude that the legiſlators of ſuch countries had not yet arrived at a ſtate of civilization.

As to its preſerving a character of weight and conſequence, the caſe appears to me directly the reverſe. It is an attaint upon character; a ſort of privateering on family property. It may have weight among dependent tenants, but it gives none on a ſcale of national, and, much leſs of univerſal character. Speaking for myſelf, my parents were not able to give me a ſhilling, beyond what they gave me in education; and to do this they diſtreſſed themſelves: yet, I poſſeſs more of what is called conſequence, in the world, than any one in Mr. Burke's catalogue of ari⯑ſtocrats.

Having thus glanced at ſome of the defects of the two houſes of parliament, I proceed to what is called the crown upon which I ſhall be very conciſe.

It ſignifies a nominal office of a million ſterling a year, the buſineſs of which conſiſts in receiving the money. Whether the perſon be wiſe or fooliſh, ſane or inſane, a native or a foreigner, matters not. Every miniſtry acts upon the ſame [108] idea that Mr. Burke writes, namely, that the people muſt be hood-winked, and held in ſuper⯑ſtitious ignorance by ſome bugbear or other; and what is called the crown anſwers this purpoſe, and therefore it anſwers all the purpoſes to be expected from it. This is more than can be ſaid of the other two branches.

The hazard to which this office is expoſed in all countries, is not from any thing that can happen to the man, but from what may happen to the nation—the danger of its coming to its ſenſes.

It has been cuſtomary to call the crown the executive power, and the cuſtom is continued, though the reaſon has ceaſed.

It was called the executive, becauſe the perſon whom it ſignified uſed, formerly, to ſit in the character of a judge, in adminiſtering or execut⯑ing the laws. The tribunals were then a part of the court. The power, therefore, which is now called the judicial, is what was called the execu⯑tive; and, conſequently, one or other of the terms is redundant, and one of the offices uſeleſs. When we ſpeak of the crown now, it means nothing; it ſignifies neither a judge nor a general: beſides which it is the laws that govern, and not the man. The old terms are kept up, to give an appearance of conſequence to empty forms; and the only effect they have is that of increaſing expences.

Before I proceed to the means of rendering governments more conducive to the general [109] happineſs of mankind, than they are at preſent, it will not be improper to take a review of the progreſs of taxation in England.

It is a general idea, that when taxes are once laid on, they are never taken off. However true this may have been of late, it was not always ſo. Either, therefore, the people of former times were more watchful over government than thoſe of the preſent, or government was adminiſtered with leſs extravagance.

It is now ſeven hundred years ſince the Norman conqueſt, and the eſtabliſhment of what is called the crown. Taking this portion of time in ſeven ſeparate periods of one hundred years each, the amount of the annual taxes, at each period, will be as follows:—

[110]Theſe ſtatements, and thoſe which follow, are taken from Sir John Sinclair's Hiſtory of the Revenue; by which it appears, that taxes con⯑tinued decreaſing for four hundred years, at the expiration of which time they were reduced three-fourths, viz. from four hundred thouſand pounds to one hundred thouſand. The people of Eng⯑land of the preſent day, have a traditionary and hiſtorical idea of the bravery of their anceſtors; but whatever their virtues or their vices might have been, they certainly were a people who would not be impoſed upon, and who kept government in awe as to taxation, if not as to principle. Though they were not able to expel the monarchical uſurpation, they reſtricted it to a republican oeconomy of taxes.

Let us now review the remaining three hun⯑dred years.

The difference between the firſt four hundred years and the laſt three, is ſo aſtoniſhing, as to warrant an opinion, that the national character of the Engliſh has changed. It would have been [111] impoſſible to have dragooned the former Engliſh, into the exceſs of taxation that now exiſts; and when it is conſidered that the pay of the army, the navy, and of all the revenue-officers, is the ſame now as it was above a hundred years ago, when the taxes were not above a tenth part of what they are at preſent, it appears impoſſible to account for the enormous increaſe and expen⯑diture, on any other ground, than extravagance, corruption, and intrigue ^*.

[112]With the revolution of 1688, and more ſo ſince the Hanover ſucceſſion; came the deſtruc⯑tive ſyſtem of continental intrigues, and the rage for foreign wars and foreign dominion; ſyſtems of ſuch ſecure myſtery that the expences admit of no accounts; a ſingle line ſtands for millions. To what exceſs taxation might have extended, had not the French revolution contributed to break up the ſyſtem, and put an end to pretences, is impoſſible to ſay. Viewed, as that revolution ought to be, as the fortunate means of leſſening the load of taxes of both countries, it is of as [113] much importance to England as to France; and, if properly improved to all the advantages of which it is capable, and to which it leads, de⯑ſerve as much celebration in one country as the other.

In purſuing this ſubject, I ſhall begin with the matter that firſt preſents itſelf, that of leſſening the burthen of taxes; and ſhall then add ſuch matters and propoſitions, reſpecting the three countries of England, France, and America, as the preſent proſpect of things appears to juſtify: I mean, an alliance of the three, for the pur⯑poſes that will be mentioned in their proper place.

What has happened may happen again. By the ſtatement before ſhewn of the progreſs of taxation, it is ſeen, that taxes have been leſſened to a fourth part of what they had formerly been. Though the preſent circumſtances do not admit of the ſame reduction, yet it admits of ſuch a beginning, as may accompliſh that end in leſs time, than in the former caſe.

The amount of taxes for the year, ending at Michaelmas 1788, was as follows:

[114]Since the year 1788, upwards of one million, new taxes, have been laid on, beſides the produce from the lotteries; and as the taxes have in gene⯑ral been more productive ſince than before, the amount may be taken, in round numbers, at £ 17,000,000.

N. B. The expence of collection and the draw⯑backs, which together amount to nearly two millions, are paid out of the groſs amount; and the above is the nett ſum paid into the exchequer.

This ſum of ſeventeen millions is applied to two different purpoſes; the one to pay the intereſt of the national debt, the other to the current ex⯑pences of each year. About nine millions are ap⯑propriated to the former; and the remainder, being nearly eight millions, to the latter. As to the million, ſaid to be applied to the reduction of the debt, it is ſo much like paying with one hand and taking out with the other, as not to merit much notice.

It happened, fortunately for France, that ſhe poſſeſſed national domains for paying off her debt, and thereby leſſening her taxes: but as this is not the caſe in England, her reduction of taxes can only take place by reducing the current expences, which may now be done to the amount of four or five millions annually, as will hereafter appear. When this is accompliſhed, it will more than counterbalance the enormous charge of the American war; and the ſaving will [115] be from the ſame ſource from whence the evil aroſe.

As to the national debt, however heavy the intereſt may be in taxes; yet, as it ſerves to keep alive a capital, uſeful to commerce, it balances by its effects a conſiderable part of its own weight; and as the quantity of gold and ſilver in England is, by ſome means or other, ſhort of its proper proportion ^*, (being not more than twenty mil⯑lions, whereas it ſhould be ſixty,) it would, beſides the injuſtice, be bad policy to extinguiſh a capital that ſerves to ſupply that defect. But with reſpect to the current expence, whatever is ſaved therefrom is gain. The exceſs may ſerve to keep corruption alive, but it has no re-action on credit and commerce, like the intereſt of the debt.

It is now very probable, that the Engliſh go⯑vernment (I do not mean the nation) is un⯑friendly to the French revolution. Whatever ſerves to expoſe the intrigue and leſſen the influence of courts, by leſſening taxation, will be unwelcome to thoſe who feed upon the ſpoil. Whilſt the clamour of French intrigue, arbitrary power, popery, and wooden ſhoes could be kept up, the nation was eaſily allured and alarmed into taxes. Thoſe days are now paſt; deception, it is to be hoped, has reaped its laſt harveſt, and better times are in proſpect for both countries, and for the world.

[116]Taking it for granted, that an alliance may be formed between England, France, and America, for the purpoſes hereafter to be mentioned, the national expences of France and England may con⯑ſequently be leſſened. The ſame fleets and armies will no longer be neceſſary to either, and the reduction can be made ſhip for ſhip on each ſide. But to accompliſh theſe objects, the governments muſt neceſſarily be fitted to a common and cor⯑reſpondent principle. Confidence can never take place, while an hoſtile diſpoſition remains in either, or where myſtery and ſecrecy on one ſide, is op⯑poſed to candour and openneſs on the other.

Theſe matters admitted, the national expences might be put back, for the ſake of a precedent, to what they were at ſome period when France and England were not enemies. This, conſequently, muſt be prior to the Hanover ſucceſſion, and alſo to the revolution of 1688 ^*. The firſt inſtance [117] that preſents itſelf, antecedent to thoſe dates, is in the very waſteful and profligate times of Charles the Second; at which time England and France acted as allies. If I have choſen a period of great extravagance, it will ſerve to ſhew modern extravagance in a ſtill worſe light; eſpecially as the pay of the navy, the army, and the revenue officers has not encreaſed ſince that time.

The peace eſtabliſhment was then as follows:— See Sir John Sinclair's Hiſtory of the Revenue.

The parliament, however, ſettled the whole annual peace eſtabliſhment at 1,200,000 ^*. If we go back to the time of Elizabeth, the amount [118] of all the taxes was but half a million, yet the nation ſees nothing during that period, that reproaches it with want of conſequence.

All circumſtances then taken together, ariſing from the French revolution, from the approaching harmony and reciprocal intereſt of the two nations, the abolition of court intrigue on both ſides, and the progreſs of knowledge in the ſcience of go⯑vernment, the annual expenditure might be put back to one million and an half, viz.

Even this ſum is ſix times greater than the ex⯑pences of government are in America, yet the civil internal government in England, (I mean that adminiſtered by means of quarter ſeſſions, juries, and aſſize, and which, in fact, is nearly the whole, and performed by the nation,) is leſs expence upon the revenue, than the ſame ſpecies and portion of government is in America.

It is time that nations ſhould be rational, and not be governed like animals, for the pleaſure of their riders. To read the hiſtory of kings, a man would be almoſt inclined to ſuppoſe that government conſiſted in ſtag-hunting, and that every nation paid a million a year to a huntſman. Man ought to have pride, or ſhame enough to bluſh at being thus impoſed upon, and when he [119] feel his proper character, he will. Upon all ſub⯑jects of this nature, there is often paſſing in the mind, a train of ideas he has not yet accuſtomed himſelf to encourage and communicate. Re⯑ſtrained by ſomething that puts on the character of prudence, he acts the hypocrite upon himſelf as well as to others. It is, however, curious to obſerve how ſoon this ſpell can be diſſolved. A ſingle expreſſion, boldly conceived and uttered, will ſometimes put a whole company into their proper feelings; and whole nations are acted upon in the ſame manner.

As to the offices of which any civil government may be compoſed, it matters but little by what names they are deſcribed. In the rotine of buſi⯑neſs, as before obſerved, whether a man be ſtiled a preſident, a king, an emperor, a ſenator, or any thing elſe, it is impoſſible that any ſervice he can perform, can merit from a nation more than ten thouſand pounds a year; and as no man ſhould be paid beyond his ſervices, ſo every man of a proper heart will not accept more. Public money ought to be touched with the moſt ſcrupulous conſciouſ⯑neſs of honour. It is not the produce of riches only, but of the hard earnings of labour and poverty. It is drawn even from the bitterneſs of want and miſery. Not a beggar paſſes, or periſhes in the ſtreets, whoſe mite is not in that maſs.

Were it poſſible that the Congreſs of America, could be ſo loſt to their duty, and to the intereſt of their conſtituents, as to offer General Waſhing⯑ton, [120] as preſident of America, a million a year, he would not, and he could not, accept it. His ſenſe of honour is of another kind. It has coſt England almoſt ſeventy millions ſterling, to maintain a family imported from abroad, of very inferior capacity to thouſands in the nation; and ſcarcely a year has paſſed that has not produced ſome new mercenary application. Even the phy⯑ſicians bills have been ſent to the public to be paid. No wonder that jails are crowded, and taxes and poor-rates encreaſed. Under ſuch ſyſtems, nothing is to be looked for but what has already happened; and as to reformation, when⯑ever it come, it muſt be from the nation, and not from the goverment.

To ſhew that the ſum of five hundred thouſand pounds is more than ſufficient to defray all the expences of government, excluſive of navies and armies, the following eſtimate is added for any country, of the ſame extent as England.

In the firſt place, three hundred repreſenta⯑tives, fairly elected, are ſufficient for all the purpoſes to which legiſlation can apply, and preferable to a larger number. They may be divided into two or three houſes, or meet in one, as in France, or in any manner a conſtitution ſhall direct.

As repreſentation is always conſidered, in free countries, as the moſt honourable of all ſtations, the allowance made to it is merely to defray the expence which the repreſentatives incur by that ſervice, and not to it as an office.

[121]

The official departments cannot reaſonably exceed the following num⯑ber, with the ſalaries annexed:

If a nation chuſe, it can deduct four per cent. from all offices, and make one of twenty thouſand per ann.

All revenue officers are paid out of the monies they collect, and therefore, are not in this eſtimation.

The foregoing is not offered as an exact detail of offices, but to ſhew the number and rate of ſalaries which five hundred thouſand pounds will ſupport; and it will, on experience, be found impracticable to find buſineſs ſufficient to juſtify even this expence. As to the manner in which [122] office buſineſs is now performed, the Chiefs, in ſeveral offices, ſuch as the poſt-office, and cer⯑tain offices in the exchequer, &c. do little more than ſign their names three or four times a year; and the whole duty is performed by under clerks.

Taking, therefore, one million and an half as a ſufficient peace eſtabliſhment for all the honeſt purpoſes of government, which is three hundred thouſand pounds more than the peace eſtabliſh⯑ment in the profligate and prodigal times of Charles the Second, (notwithſtanding, as has been already obſerved, the pay and ſalaries of the army, navy, and revenue officers, continue the ſame as at that period,) there will remain a ſurplus of up⯑wards of ſix millions out of the preſent current ex⯑pences. The queſtion then will be, how to diſ⯑poſe of this ſurplus.

Whoever has obſerved the manner in which trade and taxes twiſt themſelves together, muſt be ſenſible of the impoſſibility of ſeparating them ſuddenly.

Firſt. Becauſe the articles now on hand are already charged with the duty, and the reduction cannot take place on the preſent ſtock.

Secondly. Becauſe, on all thoſe articles on which the duty is charged in the groſs, ſuch as per barrel, hogſhead, hundred weight, or tun, the abolition of the duty does not admit of being divided down ſo as fully to relieve the conſumer, who purchaſes by the pint, or the pound. The laſt duty laid on ſtrong beer and ale, was three [123] ſhillings per barrel, which, if taken off, would leſſen the purchaſe only half a farthing per pint, and conſequently, would not reach to practical relief.

This being the condition of a great part of the taxes, it will be neceſſary to look for ſuch others as are free from this embarraſſment, and where the relief will be direct and viſible, and capable of immediate operation.

In the firſt place, then, the poor-rates are a direct tax which every houſe-keeper feels, and who knows alſo, to a farthing, the ſum which he pays. The national amount of the whole of the poor rates is not poſitively known, but can be procured. Sir John Sinclair, in his Hiſtory of the Revenue, has ſtated it at £. 2,100,587. A conſiderable part of which is expended in litiga⯑tions, in which the poor, inſtead of being relieved, are tormented. The expence, however, is the ſame to the pariſh from whatever cauſe it ariſes.

In Birmingham, the amount of the poor-rates is fourteen thouſand pounds a year. This, though a large ſum, is moderate, compared with the population. Birmingham is ſaid to contain ſeventy thouſand ſouls, and on a proportion of ſeventy thouſand to fourteen thouſand pounds poor-rates, the national amount of poor-rates, taking the population of England at ſeven mil⯑lions, would be but one million four hundred thou⯑ſand pounds. It is, therefore, moſt probable, that the population of Birmingham is over-rated. [124] Fourteen thouſand pounds is the proportion upon fifty thouſand ſouls, taking two millions of poor-rates as the national amount.

Be it, however, what it may, it is no other than the conſequence of the exceſſive burthen of taxes, for, at the time when the taxes were very low, the poor were able to maintain themſelves; and there were no poor-rates ^*. In the preſent ſtate of things, a labouring man, with a wife and two or three children, does not pay leſs than be⯑tween ſeven and eight pounds a year in taxes. He is not ſenſible of this, becauſe it is diſguiſed to him in the articles which he buys, and he thinks only of their dearneſs; but as the taxes take from him, at leaſt, a fourth part of his yearly earnings, he is conſequently diſabled from providing for a family, eſpecially, if himſelf, or any of them, are afflicted with ſickneſs.

The firſt ſtep, therefore, of practical relief, would be to aboliſh the poor-rates entirely, and in lieu thereof, to make a remiſſion of taxes to the poor of double the amount of the preſent poor-rates, viz. four millions annually out of the ſurplus taxes. By this meaſure, the poor would be benefited two millions, and the houſe-keepers two millions. This alone would be equal to a reduction of one hundred and twenty millions of the national [125] debt, and conſequently equal to the whole expence of the American war.

It will then remain to be conſidered, which is the moſt effectual mode of diſtributing this remiſ⯑ſion of four millions.

It is eaſily ſeen, that the poor are generally compoſed of large families of children, and old people paſt their labour. If theſe two claſſes are provided for, the remedy will ſo far reach to the full extent of the caſe, that what remains will be incidental, and, in a great meaſure, fall within the compaſs of benefit clubs, which, though of hum⯑ble invention, merit to be ranked among the beſt of modern inſtitutions.

Admitting England to contain ſeven million of ſouls; if one-fifth thereof are of that claſs of poor which need ſupport, the number will be one mil⯑lion four hundred thouſand. Of this number, one hundred and forty thouſand will be aged poor, as will be hereafter ſhewn, and for which a diſtinct proviſion will be propoſed.

There will then remain one million two hun⯑dred and ſixty thouſand, which, at five ſouls to each family, amount to two hundred and fifty-two thouſand families, rendered poor from the ex⯑pence of children and the weight of taxes.

The number of children under fourteen years of age, in each of thoſe families, will be found to be about five to every two families; ſome having two, and others three; ſome one, and others four; ſome none, and others five; but it rarely happens [126] that more than five are under fourteen years of age, and after this age they are capable of ſervice or of being apprenticed.

Allowing five children (under fourteen years) to every two families,

It is certain, that if the children are provided for, the parents are relieved of conſequence, becauſe it is from the expence of bringing up children that their poverty ariſes.

Having thus aſcertained the greateſt number that can be ſuppoſed to need ſupport on account of young families, I proceed to the mode of relief or diſtribution, which is,

To pay as a remiſſion of taxes to every poor family, out of the ſurplus taxes, and in room of poor-rates, four pounds a year for every child un⯑der fourteen years of age; enjoining the parents of ſuch children to ſend them to ſchool, to learn read⯑ing, writing, and common arithmetic; the miniſ⯑ters of every pariſh, of every denomination, to certify jointly to an office, for that purpoſe, that this duty is performed.

By adopting this method, not only the poverty of the parents will be relieved, but ignorance will be baniſhed from the riſing generation, and the [127] number of poor will hereafter become leſs, becauſe their abilities, by the aid of education, will be greater. Many a youth, with good natural genius, who is apprenticed to a mechanical trade, ſuch as a carpenter, joiner, millwright, ſhipwright, black⯑ſmith, &c. is prevented getting forward the whole of his life, from the want of a little common edu⯑cation when a boy.

I now proceed to the caſe of the aged.

I divide age into two claſſes. Firſt, the ap⯑proach of age beginning at fifty. Secondly, old age commencing at ſixty.

At fifty, though the mental faculties of man are in full vigour, and his judgment better than at any preceeding date, the bodily powers for laborious life are on the decline. He cannot bear the ſame quantity of fatigue as at an earlier period. He begins to earn leſs, and is leſs capable of enduring wind and weather; and in thoſe more retired em⯑ployments where much ſight is required, he fails apace, and ſees himſelf, like an old horſe, begin⯑ning to be turned adrift.

At ſixty his labour ought to be over, at leaſt from direct neceſſity. It is painful to ſee old age working itſelf to death, in what are called civilized countries, for daily bread.

To form ſome judgment of the number of thoſe above fifty years of age, I have ſeveral times counted the perſons I met in the ſtreets of London, men, women, and children, and have generally found that the average is about one in ſixteen or [128] ſeventeen. If it be ſaid that aged perſons do not come much in the ſtreets, ſo neither do infants; and a great proportion of grown children are in ſchools, and in work ſhops as apprentices. Taking then ſixteen for a diviſor, the whole number of perſons, in England, of fifty years and upwards of both ſexes, rich and poor, will be four hundred and twenty thouſand.

The perſons to be provided for out of this groſs number will be, huſbandmen, common labourers, journeymen of every trade and their wives, ſailors, and diſbanded ſoldiers, worn out ſervants of both ſexes, and poor widows.

There will be alſo a conſiderable number of middling tradeſmen, who having lived decently in the former part of life, begin, as age approaches, to loſe their buſineſs, and at laſt fall to decay.

Beſides theſe, there will be conſtantly thrown off from the revolutions of that wheel, which no man can ſtop, nor regulate, a number from every claſs of life connected with commerce and adventure.

To provide for all thoſe accidents, and what⯑ever elſe may befal, I take the number of perſons, who at one time or other of their lives, after fifty years of age, may feel it neceſſary or comfortable to be better ſupported, than they can ſupport them⯑ſelves, and that not as a matter of grace and fa⯑vour, but of right, at one third of the whole num⯑ber, which is one hundred and forty thouſand, as ſtated in page 125, and for whom a diſtinct pro⯑viſion was propoſed to be made. If there be [129] more, ſociety, notwithſtanding the ſhew and pom⯑poſity of government, is in a deplorable condition in England.

Of this one hundred and forty thouſand, I take one half, ſeventy thouſand, to be of the age of fifty and under ſixty, and the other half to be ſixty years and upwards.—Having thus aſcertained the probable proportion of the number of aged per⯑ſons, I proceed to the mode of rendering their condition comfortable, which is,

To pay to every ſuch perſon of the age of fifty years, and until he ſhall arrive at the age of ſixty, the ſum of ſix pounds per ann. out of the ſurplus taxes; and ten pounds per ann. during life after the age of ſixty. The expence of which will be,

This ſupport, as already remarked, is not of the nature of a charity, but of a right. Every perſon in England, male and female, pays on an average in taxes, two pounds eight ſhillings and ſixpence per ann. from the day of his (or her) birth; and, if the expence of collection be added, he pays two pounds eleven ſhillings and ſixpence; con⯑ſequently, at the end of fifty years he has paid one hundred and twenty-eight pounds fifteen ſhillings; and at ſixty, one hundred and fifty-four pounds ten ſhillings. Converting, therefore, his (or her) in⯑dividual [130] tax into a tontine, the money he ſhall re⯑ceive after fifty years, is but little more than the legal intereſt of the nett money he has paid; the reſt is made up from thoſe whoſe circumſtances do not require them to draw ſuch ſupport, and the capital in both caſes defrays the expences of go⯑vernment. It is on this ground that I have extend⯑ed the probable claims to one third of the number of aged perſons in the nation.—Is it then better that the lives of one hundred and forty thouſand aged perſons be rendered comfortable, or that a million a year o [...] public money be expended on any one individual, and him often of the moſt worthleſs or inſignificant character? Let reaſon and juſtice, let honour and humanity, let even hypocriſy, ſyco⯑phancy and Mr. Burke, let George, let Louis, Leopold, Frederic, Catharine, Cornwallis, or Tippoo Saib, anſwer the queſtion ^*.

[131]The ſum thus remitted to the poor will be,

There will then remain three hundred and ſixty thouſand pounds out of the four millions, part of which may be applied as follows:

After all the above caſes are provided for, there will ſtill be a number of families who, though not properly of the claſs of poor, yet find it difficult to give education to their children; and ſuch chil⯑dren, under ſuch a caſe, would be in a worſe con⯑dition than if their parents were actually poor. A nation under a well regulated goverment, ſhould permit none to remain uninſtructed. It is monar⯑chical and ariſtocratical government only that re⯑quires ignorance for its ſupport.

Suppoſe then four hundred thouſand children to be in this condition, which is a greater number [132] than ought to be ſuppoſed, after the proviſions already made, the method will be,

To allow for each of thoſe children ten ſhillings a year for the expence of ſchooling, for ſix years each, which will give them ſix months ſchooling each year, and half a crown a year for paper and ſpelling books.

The expence of this will be annually ^* £250,000

There will then remain one hundred and ten thouſand pounds.

Notwithſtanding the great modes of relief which the beſt inſtituted and beſt principled government may deviſe, there will ſtill be a number of ſmaller caſes, which it is good policy as well as beneficence in a nation to conſider.

Were twenty ſhillings to be given to every wo⯑man immediately on the birth of a child, who ſhould make the demand, and none will make it [133] whoſe circumſtances do not require it, it might re⯑lieve a great deal of inſtant diſtreſs.

There are about two hundred thouſand births yearly in England; and if claimed, by one fourth,

Alſo twenty thouſand pounds to be appropriated to defray the funeral expences of perſons, who, travelling for work, may die at a diſtance from their friends. By relieving pariſhes from this charge, the ſick ſtranger will be better treated.

I ſhall finiſh this part of the ſubject with a plan adapted to the particular condition of a metro⯑polis, ſuch as London.

Caſes are continually occurring in a metropolis different to thoſe which occur in the country, and for which a different, or rather an additional mode of relief is neceſſary. In the country, even in large towns, people have a knowledge of each other, and diſtreſs never riſes to that extreme height it ſometimes does in a metropolis. There is no ſuch thing in the country as perſons, in the literal ſenſe of the word, ſtarved to death, or dying with cold from the want of a lodging. Yet ſuch caſes, and others equally as miſerable, happen in London.

Many a youth comes up to London full of ex⯑pectations, and with little or no money, and un⯑leſs he gets immediate employment he is already [134] half undone; and boys bred up in London with⯑out any means of a livelihood, and as it often hap⯑pens of diſſolute parents, are in a ſtill worſe con⯑dition; and ſervants long out of place are not much better off. In ſhort, a world of little caſes are continually ariſing, which buſy or affluent life knows not of, to open the firſt door to diſtreſs. Hunger is not among the poſtponeable wants, and a day, even a few hours, in ſuch a condition, is often the criſis of a life of ruin.

Theſe circumſtances, which are the general cauſe of the little thefts and pilferings that lead to greater, may be prevented. There yet remain twenty thouſand pounds out of the four millions of ſurplus taxes, which, with another fund here⯑after to be mentioned, amounting to about twenty thouſand pounds more, cannot be better applied than to this purpoſe. The plan then will be,

Firſt, To erect two or more buildings, or take ſome already erected, capable of containing at leaſt ſix thouſand perſons, and to have in each of theſe places as many kinds of employment as can be contrived, ſo that every perſon who ſhall come may find ſomething which he or ſhe can do.

Secondly, To receive all who ſhall come, with⯑out enquiring who or what they are. The only condition to be, that for ſo much, or ſo many hours work, each perſon ſhall receive ſo many meals of wholeſome food, and a warm lodging, at leaſt as good as a barrack. That a certain portion of what each perſon's work ſhall be worth ſhall be reſerved, [135] and given to him, or her, on their going away; and that each perſon ſhall ſtay as long, or as ſhort time, or come as often as he chuſe, on theſe conditions.

If each perſon ſtaid three months, it would aſſiſt by rotation twenty-four thouſand perſons annually, though the real number, at all times, would be but ſix thouſand. By eſtabliſhing an aſylum of this kind, ſuch perſons to whom temporary diſtreſſes occur, would have an opportunity to recruit them⯑ſelves, and be enabled to look out for better em⯑ployment.

Allowing that their labour paid but one half the expence of ſupporting them, after reſerving a por⯑tion of their earnings for themſelves, the ſum of forty thouſand pounds additional would defray all other charges for even a greater number than ſix thouſand.

The fund very properly convertible to this pur⯑poſe, in addition to the twenty thouſand pounds, re⯑maining of the former fund, will be the produce of the tax upon coals, and ſo iniquitouſly and wantonly applied to the ſupport of the Duke of Richmond. It is horrid that any man, more eſpecially at the price coals now are, ſhould live on the diſtreſſes of a community; and any government permitting ſuch an abuſe, deſerves to be diſmiſſed. This fund is ſaid to be about twenty thouſand pounds per annum.

[136]I ſhall now conclude this plan with enumerating the ſeveral particulars, and then proceed to other matters.

The enumeration is as follows:

Firſt, Abolition of two million poor-rates.

Secondly, Proviſion for two hundred and fifty-two thouſand poor families.

Thirdly, Education for one million and thirty thouſand children.

Fourthly, Comfortable proviſion for one hun⯑dred and forty thouſand aged perſons.

Fifthly, Donation of twenty ſhillings each for fifty thouſand births.

Sixthly, Donation of twenty ſhillings each for twenty thouſand marriages.

Seventhly, Allowance of twenty thouſand pounds for the funeral expences of perſons travelling for work, and dying at a diſtance from their friends.

Eighthly, Employment, at all times, for the ca⯑ſual poor in the cities of London and Weſtminſter.

By the operation of this plan, the poor laws, thoſe inſtruments of civil torture, will be ſuper⯑ceded, and the waſteful expence of litigation prevent⯑ed. The hearts of the humane will not be ſhocked by ragged and hungry children, and perſons of ſeventy and eighty years of age begging for bread. The dying poor will not be dragged from place to place to breathe their laſt, as a repriſal of pariſh upon pariſh. Widows will have a maintenance for their children, and not be carted away, on the death of their huſbands, like culprits and criminals; [137] and children will no longer be conſidered as en⯑creaſing the diſtreſſes of their parents. The haunts of the wretched will be known, becauſe it will be to their advantage, and the number of petty crimes, the offspring of diſtreſs and poverty, will be leſſened. The poor, as well as the rich, will then be intereſted in the ſupport of government, and the cauſe and apprehenſion of riots and tumults will ceaſe.—Ye who ſit in eaſe, and ſolace yourſelves in plenty, and ſuch there are in Turkey and Ruſſia, as well as in England, and who ſay to yourſelves, ‘Are we not well off,’ have ye thought of theſe things? When ye do, ye will ceaſe to ſpeak and feel for yourſelves alone.

The plan is eaſy in practice. It does not em⯑barraſs trade by a ſudden interruption in the order of taxes, but effects the relief by changing the ap⯑plication of them; and the money neceſſary for the purpoſe can be drawn from the exciſe collections, which are made eight times a year in every market town in England.

Having now arranged and concluded this ſub⯑ject, I proceed to the next.

Taking the preſent current expences at ſeven millions and an half, which is the leaſt amount they are now at, there will remain (after the ſum of one million and an half be taken for the new cur⯑rent expences, and four millions for the before-mentioned ſervice) the ſum of two millions; part of which to be applied as follows:

[138]Though fleets and armies, by an alliance with France, will, in a great meaſure, become uſeleſs, yet the perſons who have devoted themſelves to thoſe ſervices, and have thereby unfitted themſelves for other lines of life, are not to be ſufferers by the means that make others happy. They are a dif⯑ferent deſcription of men to thoſe who form or hang about a court.

A part of the army will remain at leaſt for ſome years, and alſo of the navy, for which a proviſion is already made in the former part of this plan of one million, which is almoſt half a million more than the peace eſtabliſhment of the army and navy in the prodigal times of Charles the Second.

Suppoſe then fifteen thouſand ſoldiers to be diſ⯑banded, and to allow to each of thoſe men three ſhillings a week during life, clear of all deductions, to be paid in the ſame manner as the Chelſea Col⯑lege penſioners are paid, and for them to return to their trades and their friends; and alſo to add fif⯑teen thouſand ſixpences per week to the pay of the ſoldiers who ſhall remain; the annual ex⯑pence will be,

Every year ſome part of this ſum of half a mil⯑lion (I omit the odd ſeven thouſand pounds for the purpoſe of keeping the account unembarraſſed) will fall in, and the whole of it in time, as it is on the ground of life annuities, except the encreaſed pay of twenty-nine thouſand pounds. As it falls in, a part of the taxes may be taken off; for in⯑ſtance, when thirty thouſand pounds fall in the duty on hops may be wholly taken off; and as other parts fall in, the duties on candles and ſoap may be leſſened, till at laſt they will totally ceaſe.

There now remains at leaſt one million and an half of ſurplus taxes.

The tax on houſes and windows is one of thoſe direct taxes, which, like the poor-rates, is not con⯑founded with trade; and, when taken off, the re⯑lief [140] will be inſtantly felt. This tax falls heavy on the middling claſs of people.

The amount of this tax by the returns of 1788, was,

If this tax be ſtruck off, there will then remain about one million of ſurplus taxes, and as it is al⯑ways proper to keep a ſum in reſerve, for inciden⯑tal matters, it may be beſt not to extend reduc⯑tions further, in the firſt inſtance, but to conſider what may be accompliſhed by other modes of reform.

Among the taxes moſt heavily felt is the com⯑mutation tax. I ſhall, therefore, offer a plan for its abolition, by ſubſtituting another in its place, which will affect three objects at once:

Firſt, That of removing the burthen to where it can beſt be borne.

Secondly, Reſtoring juſtice among families by a diſtribution of property.

Thirdly, Extirpating the overgrown influence ariſing from the unnatural law of primogeniture, and which is one of the principal ſources of cor⯑ruption at elections.

[141]

When taxes are propoſed, the country is amuſed by the plauſible language of taxing luxuries. One thing is called a luxury at one time, and ſome⯑thing elſe at another; but the real luxury does not conſiſt in the article, but in the means of procur⯑ing it, and this is always kept out of ſight.

I know not why any plant or herb of the field ſhould be a greater luxury in one country than ano⯑ther, but an overgrown eſtate in either is a luxury at all times, and as ſuch is the proper object of taxation. It is, therefore, right to take thoſe kind tax-making gentlemen up on their own word, and argue on the principle themſelves have laid down, that of taxing luxuries. If they, or their champion Mr. Burke, who, I fear, is growing out of date like the man in armour, can prove that an eſtate of twenty, thirty, or forty thouſand pounds a year is not a luxury, I will give up the argument.

Admitting that any annual ſum, ſay for inſtance, one thouſand pounds, is neceſſary or ſufficient for the ſupport of a family, conſequently the ſecond thouſand is of the nature of a luxury, the third ſtill more ſo, and by proceeding on, we ſhall at laſt arrive at a ſum that may not improperly be called a prohibitable luxury. It would be impo⯑litic to ſet bounds to property acquired by induſtry, and therefore it is right to place the prohibition [142] beyond the probable acquiſition to which induſtry can extend; but there ought to be a limit to pro⯑perty, or the accumulation of it, by bequeſt. It ſhould paſs in ſome other line. The richeſt in every nation have poor relations, and thoſe often very near in conſanguinity.

The following table of progreſſive taxation is conſtructed on the above principles, and as a ſub⯑ſtitute for the commutation tax. It will reach the point of prohibition by a regular operation, and thereby ſupercede the ariſtocratical law of primo⯑geniture.

The foregoing table ſhews the progreſſion per pound on every progreſſive thouſand. The fol⯑lowing table ſhews the amount of the tax on every thouſand ſeparately, and in the laſt column, the total amount of all the ſeparate ſums collected.

[144]After 500l.—the tax of ſixpence per pound takes place on the ſecond 500l.—conſequently an eſtate of 1000l. per ann. pays 21l. 15s. and ſo on,

[145]At the twenty-third thouſand the tax becomes twenty ſhillings in the pound, and conſequently every thouſand beyond that ſum can produce no profit but by dividing the eſtate. Yet formidable as this tax appears, it will not, I believe, produce ſo much as the commutation tax; ſhould it pro⯑duce more, it ought to be lowered to that amount upon eſtates under two or three thouſand a year.

On ſmall and middling eſtates it is lighter (as it is intended to be) than the commutation tax. It is not till after ſeven or eight thouſand a year that it begins to be heavy. The object is not ſo much the produce of the tax, as the juſtice of the mea⯑ſure. The ariſtocracy has ſcreened itſelf too much, and this ſerves to reſtore a part of the loſt equili⯑brium.

As an inſtance of its ſcreening itſelf, it is only neceſſary to look back to the firſt eſtabliſhment of the exciſe laws, at what is called the Reſtoration, or the coming of Charles the Second. The ariſ⯑tocratical intereſt then in power, commuted the feudal ſervices itſelf was under by laying a tax on beer brewed for ſale; that is, they compounded with Charles for an exemption from thoſe ſervices for themſelves and their heirs, by a tax to be paid by other people. The ariſtocracy do not purchaſe beer brewed for ſale, but brew their own beer free of the duty, and if any commutation at that time were neceſſary, it ought to have been at the expence of thoſe for whom the exemptions from thoſe ſer⯑vices [146] were intended ^*; inſtead of which it was thrown on an entire different claſs of men.

But the chief object of this progreſſive tax (be⯑ſides the juſtice of rendering taxes more equal than they are) is, as already ſtated, to extirpate the overgrown influence ariſing from the unnatural law of primogeniture, and which is one of the princi⯑pal ſources of corruption at elections.

It would be attended with no good conſequences to enquire how ſuch vaſt eſtates as thirty, forty, or fifty thouſand a year could commence, and that at a time when commerce and manufactures were not in a ſtate to admit of ſuch acquiſitions. Let it be ſufficient to remedy the evil by putting them in a condition of deſcending again to the community, by the quiet means of apportioning them among all the heirs and heireſſes of thoſe families. This will be the more neceſſary, becauſe hitherto the ariſtocracy have quartered their younger children and connections upon the public i [...] uſeleſs poſts, places, and offices, which when aboliſhed will leave them deſtitute, unleſs the law of primogeniture be alſo aboliſhed or ſuperceded.

A progreſſive tax will, in a great meaſure, effect this object, and that as a matter of intereſt to the [147] parties moſt immediately concerned, as will be ſeen by the following table; which ſhews the nett produce upon every eſtate, after ſubtracting the tax. By this it will appear, that after an eſtate ex⯑ceeds thirteen or fourteen thouſand a year, the re⯑mainder produces but little profit to the holder, and conſequently will paſs either to the younger children, or to other kindred.

According to this table, an eſtate cannot pro⯑duce more then 12,3 [...]0l. clear of the land tax and the progreſſive tax, and therefore the dividing ſuch eſtates will follow as a matter of family intereſt. An eſtate of 23,000l. a year, divided into five eſ⯑tates of four thouſand each and one of three, will be charged only 1129l. which is but five per cent. but if held by one poſſeſſor will be charged 10,630l.

Although an enquiry into the origin of thoſe eſtates be unneceſſary, the continuation of them in their preſent ſtate is another ſubject. It is a matter of national concern. As hereditary eſtates, the law has created the evil, and it ought alſo to provide the remedy. Primogeniture ought to be aboliſhed, not only becauſe it is unnatural and unjuſt, but becauſe the country ſuffers by its operation. By cutting off (as before obſerved) the younger children from their proper portion of inheritance, the public is [149] loaded with the expence of maintaining them; and the freedom of elections violated by the overbearing influence which this unjuſt monopoly of family pro⯑perty produces. Nor is this all. It occaſions a waſte of national property. A conſiderable part of the land of the country is rendered unproduc⯑tive by the great extent of parks and chaſes which this law ſerves to keep up, and this at a time when the annual production of grain is not equal to the national conſumption ^*.—In ſhort, the evils of the ariſtocratical ſyſtem are ſo great and numerous, ſo inconſiſtent with every thing that is juſt, wiſe, natu⯑ral, and beneficent, that when they are conſidered, there ought not to be a doubt that many, who are now claſſed under that deſcription, will wiſh to ſee ſuch a ſyſtem aboliſhed.

What pleaſure can they derive from contemplat⯑ing the expoſed condition, and almoſt certain beg⯑gary of their younger offspring? Every ariſtocra⯑tical family has an appendage of family beggars hanging round it, which in a few ages, or a few generations, are ſhook off, and conſole themſelves with telling their tale in alms-houſes, work-houſes, and priſons. This is the natural conſequence of ariſtocracy. The peer and the beggar are often of the ſame family. One extreme produces the other: to make one rich many muſt be made poor; nei⯑ther can the ſyſtem be ſupported by other means.

[150]There are two claſſes of people to whom the laws of England are particularly hoſtile, and thoſe the moſt helpleſs; younger children and the poor. Of the former I have juſt ſpoken; of the latter I ſhall mention one inſtance out of the many that might be produced, and with which I ſhall cloſe this ſubject.

Several laws are in exiſtence for regulating and limiting workmen's wages. Why not leave them as free to make their own bargains, as the law-makers are to let their farms and houſes? Per⯑ſonal labour is all the property they have. Why is that little, and the little freedom they enjoy to be infringed? But the injuſtice will appear ſtronger, if we conſider the operation and effect of ſuch laws. When wages are fixed by what is called a law, the legal wages remain ſtationary, while every thing elſe is in progreſſion; and as thoſe who make that law, ſtill continue to lay on new taxes by other laws, they encreaſe the expence of living by one law, and take away the means by another.

But if thoſe gentlemen law-makers and tax-makers thought it right to limit the poor pittance which perſonal labour can produce, and on which a whole family is to be ſupported, they certainly muſt feel themſelves happily indulged in a limita⯑tion on their own part, of not leſs than twelve thou⯑ſand a year, and that of property they never ac⯑quired, (nor probably any of their anceſtors) and of which they have made ſo ill a uſe.

[151]Having now finiſhed this ſubject, I ſhall bring the ſeveral particulars into one view, and then pro⯑ceed to other matters.

• 1. Abolition of two million poor-rates.
• 2. Proviſion for two hundred and fifty-two thouſand poor families, at the rate of four pounds per head for each child under fourteen years of age; which, with the addition of two hundred and fifty thouſand pounds, provides alſo education for one million and thirty thouſand children.
• 3. Annuity of ſix pounds (per ann.) each for all poor perſons, decayed tradeſmen, or others (ſup⯑poſed ſeventy thouſand) of the age of fifty years, and until ſixty.
• 4. Annuity of ten pounds each for life for all poor perſons, decayed tradeſmen, and others (ſup⯑poſed ſeventy thouſand) of the age of ſixty years.
• 5. Donation of twenty ſhillings each for fifty thouſand births.
• 6. Donation of twenty ſhillings each for twenty thouſand marriages.
• 7. Allowance of twenty thouſand pounds for the funeral expences of perſons travelling for work, and dying at a diſtance from their friends.
• 8. Employment at all times for the caſual poor in the cities of London and Weſtminſter.

• 9. Abolition of the tax on houſes and windows.
• 10. Allowance of three ſhillings per week for life to fifteen thouſand diſbanded ſoldiers, and a proportionable allowance to the officers of the diſbanded corps.
• 11. Encreaſe of pay to the remaining ſoldiers of 19,500l. annually.
• 12. The ſame allowance to the diſbanded navy, and the ſame encreaſe of pay, as to the army.
• 13. Abolition of the commutation tax.
• 14. Plan of a progreſſive tax, operating to ex⯑tirpate the unjuſt and unnatural law of primogeni⯑ture, and the vicious influence of the ariſtocratical ſyſtem ^*.

There yet remains, as already ſtated, one mil⯑lion of ſurplus taxes. Some part of this will be required for circumſtances that do not immediate⯑ly preſent themſelves, and ſuch part as ſhall not be wanted, will admit a further reduction of taxes equal to that amount.

[153]Among the claims that juſtice requires to be made, the condition of the inferior revenue officers will merit attention. It is a reproach to any go⯑vernment to waſte ſuch an immenſity of revenue in ſinecures and nominal and unneceſſary places and offices, and not allow even a decent livelihood to thoſe on whom the labour falls. The ſalary of the inferior officers of the revenue has ſtood at the petty pittance of leſs than fifty pounds a year for up⯑wards of one hundred years. It ought to be ſe⯑venty. About one hundred and twenty thouſand pounds applied to this purpoſe, will put all thoſe ſalaries in a decent condition.

This was propoſed to be done almoſt twenty years ago, but the treaſury-board then in being [154] ſtartled at it, as it might lead to ſimilar expecta⯑tions from the army and navy; and the event was, that the King, or ſomebody for him, applied to parliament to have his own ſalary raiſed an hun⯑dred thouſand a year, which being done, every thing elſe was laid aſide.

With reſpect to another claſs of men, the infe⯑rior clergy, I forbear to enlarge on their condi⯑tion; but all partialities and prejudices for, or againſt, different modes and forms of religion aſide, common juſtice will determine, whether there ought to be an income of twenty or thirty pounds a year to one man, and of ten thouſand to another. I ſpeak on this ſubject with the more freedom, becauſe I am known not to be a Preſbyterian; and therefore the cant cry of court ſycophants, about church and meeting, kept up to amuſe and bewilder the nation, cannot be raiſed againſt me.

Ye ſimple men, on both ſides the queſtion, do ye not ſee through this courtly craft? If ye can be kept diſputing and wrangling about church and meeting, ye juſt anſwer the purpoſe of every cour⯑tier, who lives the while on the ſpoil of the taxes, and laughs at your credulity. Every religion is good that teaches man to be good; and I know of none that inſtructs him to be bad.

All the before-mentioned calculations, ſuppoſe only ſixteen millions and an half of taxes paid into the exchequer, after the expence of collection and drawbacks at the cuſtom-houſe and exciſe-office [155] are deducted; whereas the ſum paid into the ex⯑chequer is very nearly, if not quite, ſeventeen mil⯑lions. The taxes raiſed in Scotland and Ireland are expended in thoſe countries, and therefore their ſavings will come out of their own taxes; but if any part be paid into the Engliſh exchequer, it might be remitted. This will not make one hun⯑dred thouſand pounds a year difference.

There now remains only the national debt to be conſidered. In the year 1789, the intereſt, excluſive of the tontine, was 9,150,138l. How much the capital has been reduced ſince that time the miniſter beſt knows. But after paying the intereſt, aboliſhing the tax on houſes and win⯑dows, the commutation tax, and the poor rates; and making all the proviſions for the poor, for the education of children, the ſupport of the aged, the diſbanded part of the army and navy, and en⯑creaſing the pay of the remainder, there will be a ſurplus of one million.

The preſent ſcheme of paying off the national debt appears to me, ſpeaking as an indifferent perſon, to be an ill-concerted, if not a fallacious job. The burthen of the national debt conſiſts not in its being ſo many millions, or ſo many hun⯑dred millions, but in the quantity of taxes col⯑lected every year to pay the intereſt. If this quan⯑tity continue the ſame, the burthen of the na⯑tional debt is the ſame to all intents and purpoſes, be the capital more or leſs. The only knowledge [156] which the public can have of the reduction of the debt, muſt be through the reduction of taxes for paying the intereſt. The debt, therefore, is not reduced one farthing to the public by all the mil⯑lions that have been paid; and it would require more money now to purchaſe up the capital, than when the ſcheme began.

Digreſſing for a moment at this point, to which I ſhall return again, I look back to the appoint⯑ment of Mr. Pitt, as miniſter.

I was then in America. The war was over; and though reſentment had ceaſed, memory was ſtill alive.

When the news of the coalition arrived, though it was a matter of no concern to me as a citizen of America, I felt it as a man. It had ſomething in it which ſhocked, by publicly ſporting with de⯑cency, if not with principle. It was impudence in Lord North; it was want of firmneſs in Mr. Fox.

Mr. Pitt was, at that time, what may be called a maiden character in politics. So far from being hackneyed, he appeared not to be initiated into the firſt myſteries of court intrigue. Every thing was in his favour. Reſentment againſt the coali⯑tion ſerved as friendſhip to him, and his ignorance of vice was credited for virtue. With the return of peace, commerce and proſperity would riſe of itſelf; yet even this encreaſe was thrown to his account.

When he came to the helm the ſtorm was over, and he had nothing to interrupt his courſe. It re⯑quired [157] even ingenuity to be wrong, and he ſuc⯑ceeded. A little time ſhewed him the ſame ſort of man as his predeceſſors had been. Inſtead of profiting by thoſe errors which had accumulated a burthen of taxes unparalleled in the world, he ſought, I might almoſt ſay, he advertiſed for ene⯑mies, and provoked means to encreaſe taxation. Aiming at ſomething, he knew not What, he ran⯑ſacked Europe and India for adventures, and aban⯑doning the fair pretenſions he began with, became the knight-errant of modern times.

It is unpleaſant to ſee character throw itſelf away. It is more ſo to ſee one's-ſelf deceived. Mr. Pitt had merited nothing, but he promiſed much. He gave ſymptoms of a mind ſuperior to the meanneſs and corruption of courts. His ap⯑parent candour encouraged expectations; and the public confidence, ſtunned, wearied, and confounded by a chaos of parties, revived and attached itſelf to him. But miſtaking, as he has done, the diſguſt of the nation againſt the coalition, for merit in himſelf, he has ruſhed into meaſures, which a man leſs ſupported would not have pre⯑ſumed to act.

All this ſeems to ſhew that change of miniſters amounts to nothing. One goes out, another comes in, and ſtill the ſame meaſures, vices, and extra⯑vagance are purſued. It ſignifies not who is mi⯑niſter. The defect lies in the ſyſtem. The foun⯑dation and the ſuperſtructure of the government [158] is bad. Prop it as you pleaſe, it continually ſinks into court government, and ever will.

I return, as I promiſed, to the ſubject of the national debt, that offspring of the Dutch-Anglo revolution, and its handmaid the Hanover ſuc⯑ceſſion.

But it is now too late to enquire how it began. Thoſe to whom it is due have advanced the mo⯑ney; and whether it was well or ill ſpent, or pocketed, is not their crime. It is, however, eaſy to ſee, that as the nation proceeds in contemplat⯑ing the nature and principles of government, and to underſtand taxes, and make compariſons be⯑tween thoſe of America, France, and England, it will be next to impoſſible to keep it in the ſame torpid ſtate it has hitherto been. Some re⯑form muſt, from the neceſſity of the caſe, ſoon begin. It is not whether theſe principles preſs with little or much force in the preſent moment. They are out. They are abroad in the world, and no force can ſtop them. Like a ſecret told, they are beyond recall; and he muſt be blind indeed that does not ſee that a change is already beginning.

Nine millions of dead taxes is a ſerious thing; and this not only for bad, but in a great meaſure for foreign government. By putting the power of making war into the hands of foreigners who came for what they could get, little elſe was to be ex⯑pected than what has happened.

[159]Reaſons are already advanced in this work ſhew⯑ing that whatever the reforms in the taxes may be, they ought to be made in the current expences of government, and not in the part applied to the intereſt of the national debt. By remitting the taxes of the poor, they will be totally relieved, and all diſcontent on their part will be taken away; and by ſtriking off ſuch of the taxes as are already men⯑tioned, the nation will more than recover the whole expence of the mad American war.

There will then remain only the national debt as a ſubject of diſcontent; and in order to remove, or rather to prevent this, it would be good policy in the ſtock-holders themſelves to conſider it as property, ſubject like all other property, to bear ſome portion of the taxes. It would give to it both popularity and ſecurity, and as a great part of its preſent inconvenience is balanced by the ca⯑pital which it keeps alive, a meaſure of this kind would ſo far add to that balance as to ſilence ob⯑jections.

This may be done by ſuch gradual means as to accompliſh all that is neceſſary with the greateſt eaſe and convenience.

Inſtead of taxing the capital, the beſt method would be to tax the intereſt by ſome progreſſive ratio, and to leſſen the public taxes in the ſame proportion as the intereſt diminiſhed.

Suppoſe the intereſt was taxed one halfpenny in the pound the firſt year, a penny more the ſecond, [160] and to proceed by a certain ratio to be determined upon, always leſs than any other tax upon property. Such a tax would be ſubtracted from the intereſt at the time of payment, without any expence of col⯑lection.

One halfpenny in the pound would leſſen the intereſt and conſequently the taxes, twenty thou⯑ſand pounds. The tax on waggons amounts to this ſum, and this tax might be taken off the firſt year. The ſecond year the tax on female ſervants, or ſome other of the like amount might alſo be taken off, and by proceeding in this manner, always ap⯑plying the tax raiſed from the property of the debt towards its extinction, and not carry it to the cur⯑rent ſervices, it would liberate itſelf.

The ſtockholders, notwithſtanding this tax, would pay leſs taxes than they do now. What they would ſave by the extinction of the poor-rates, and the tax on houſes and windows, and the commutation tax, would be conſiderably greater than what this tax, ſlow, but certain in its operation, amounts to.

It appears to me to be prudence to look out for meaſures that may apply under any circumſtance that may approach. There is, at this moment, a criſis in the affairs of Europe that requires it. Preparation now is wiſdom. If taxation be once let looſe, it will be difficult to re-inſtate it; neither would the relief be ſo effectual, as to proceed by ſome certain and gradual reduction.

[161]The fraud, hypocriſy, and impoſition of govern⯑ments, are now beginning to be too well under⯑ſtood to promiſe them any long career. The farce of monarchy and ariſtocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and Mr. Burke is dreſ⯑ſing for the funeral. Let it then paſs quietly to the tomb of all other follies, and the mourners be comforted.

The time is not very diſtant when England will laugh at itſelf for ſending to Holland, Hanover, Zell, or Brunſwick for men, at the expence of a million a year, who underſtood neither her laws, her language, nor her intereſt, and whoſe capaci⯑ties would ſcarcely have fitted them for the office of a pariſh conſtable. If government could be truſted to ſuch hands, it muſt be ſome eaſy and ſimple thing indeed, and materials fit for all the purpoſes may be found in every town and village in England.

When it ſhall be ſaid in any country in the world, my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor diſtreſs is to be found among them; my jails are empty of priſoners, my ſtreets of beggars; the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppreſſive; the rational world is my friend, becauſe I am the friend of its happineſs: when theſe things can be ſaid, then may that country boaſt its conſtitution and its government.

Within the ſpace of a few years we have ſeen two Revolutions, thoſe of America and France. In the former, the conteſt was long, and the conflict ſe⯑vere; [162] in the latter, the nation acted with ſuch a conſolidated impulſe, that having no foreign ene⯑my to contend with, the revolution was complete in power the moment it appeared. From both thoſe inſtances it is evident, that the greateſt forces that can be brought into the field of revolutions, are reaſon and common intereſt. Where theſe can have the opportunity of acting, oppoſition dies with fear, or crumbles away by conviction. It is a great ſtanding which they have now uni⯑verſally obtained; and we may hereafter hope to ſee revolutions, or changes in governments, pro⯑duced with the ſame quiet operation by which any meaſure, determinable by reaſon and diſcuſſion, is accompliſhed.

When a nation changes its opinion and habits of thinking, it is no longer to be governed as before; but it would not only be wrong, but bad policy, to attempt by force what ought to be accompliſhed by reaſon. Rebellion conſiſts in forcibly op⯑poſing the general will of a nation, whether by a party or by a government. There ought, there⯑fore, to be in every nation a method of occaſionally aſcertaining the ſtate of public opinion with reſpect to government. On this point the old govern⯑ment of France was ſuperior to the preſent go⯑vernment of England, becauſe, on extraordinary occaſions, recourſe could be had to what was then called the States General. But in England there are no ſuch occaſional bodies; and as to thoſe who are now called Repreſentatives, a great part of [163] them are mere machines of the court, placemen, and dependants.

I preſume, that though all the people of Eng⯑land pay taxes, not an hundredth part of them are electors, and the members of one of the houſes of parliament repreſent nobody but themſelves. There is, therefore, no power but the voluntary will of the people that has a right to act in any matter reſpecting a general reform; and by the ſame right that two perſons can confer on ſuch a ſubject, a thouſand may. The object, in all ſuch preliminary proceedings, is to find out what the general ſenſe of a nation is, and to be governed by it. If it prefer a bad or defective government to a reform, or chuſe to pay ten times more taxes than there is occaſion for, it has a right ſo to do; and ſo long as the majority do not impoſe condi⯑tions on the minority, different to what they im⯑poſe on themſelves, though there may be much error, there is no injuſtice. Neither will the error continue long. Reaſon and diſcuſſion will ſoon bring things right, however wrong they may be⯑gin. By ſuch a proceſs no tumult is to be appre⯑hended. The poor, in all countries, are naturally both peaceable and grateful in all reforms in which their intereſt and happineſs is included. It is only by neglecting and rejecting them that they become tumultuous.

The objects that now preſs on the public atten⯑tion are, the French revolution, and the proſpect of a general revolution in governments. Of all [162] [...] [163] [...] [164] nations in Europe, there is none ſo much intereſted in the French revolution as England. Enemies for ages, and that at a vaſt expence, and without any national object, the opportunity now preſents itſelf of amicably cloſing the ſcene, and joining their efforts to reform the reſt of Europe. By do⯑ing this, they will not only prevent the further ef⯑fuſion of blood, and encreaſe of taxes, but be in a con⯑dition of getting rid of a conſiderable part of their preſent burthens, as has been already ſtated. Long experience however has ſhewn, that reforms of this kind are not thoſe which old governments wiſh to promote; and therefore it is to nations, and not to ſuch governments, that theſe matters preſent themſelves.

In the preceding part of this work, I have ſpoken of an alliance between England, France, and Ame⯑rica, for purpoſes that were to be afterwards men⯑tioned. Though I have no direct authority on the part of America, I have good reaſon to con⯑clude, that ſhe is diſpoſed to enter into a conſi⯑deration of ſuch a meaſure, provided, that the go⯑vernments with which ſhe might ally, acted as na⯑tional governments, and not as courts enveloped in intrigue and myſtery. That France as a na⯑tion, and a national government, would prefer an alliance with England, is a matter of certainty. Nations, like individuals, who have long been enemies, without knowing each other, or knowing why, become the better friends when they diſcover [165] the errors and impoſitions under which they had acted.

Admitting, therefore, the probability of ſuch a connection, I will ſtate ſome matters by which ſuch an alliance, together with that of Holland, might render ſervice, not only to the parties immediately concerned, but to all Europe.

It is, I think, certain, that if the fleets of Eng⯑land, France, and Holland were confederated, they could propoſe, with effect, a limitation to, and a general diſmantling of all the navies in Europe, to a certain proportion to be agreed upon.

Firſt, That no new ſhip of war ſhall be built by any power in Europe, themſelves included.

Secondly, That all the navies now in exiſtence ſhall be put back, ſuppoſe to one tenth of their preſent force. This will ſave to France and Eng⯑land at leaſt two millions ſterling annually to each, and their relative force be in the ſame proportion as it is now. If men will permit themſelves to think, as rational beings ought to think, nothing can appear more ridiculous and abſurd, excluſive of all moral reflections, than to be at the expence of building navies, filling them with men, and then hauling them into the ocean, to try which can ſink each other faſteſt. Peace, which coſts nothing, is attended with infinitely more advan⯑tage, than any victory with all its expence. But this, though it beſt anſwers the purpoſe of nations, does not that of court governments, whoſe habited policy is pretence for taxation, places, and offices.

[166]It is, I think, alſo certain, that the above con⯑federated powers, together with that of the United States of America, can propoſe with effect, to Spain, the independance of South America, and the opening thoſe countries of immenſe extent and wealth to the general commerce of the world, as North America now is.

With how much more glory, and advantage to itſelf, does a nation act, when it exerts its powers to reſcue the world from bondage, and to create itſelf friends, than when it employs thoſe powers to encreaſe ruin, deſolation, and miſery. The horrid ſcene that is now acting by the Engliſh go⯑vernment in the Eaſt-Indies, is fit only to be told of Goths and Vandals, who, deſtitute of princi⯑ciple, robbed and tortured the world they were incapable of enjoying.

The opening of South America would produce an immenſe field of commerce, and a ready money market for manufactures, which the eaſtern world does not. The Eaſt is already a country full of ma⯑nufactures, the importation of which is not only an injury to the manufactures of England, but a drain upon its ſpecie. The balance againſt England by this trade is regularly upwards of half a million annually ſent out in the Eaſt-India ſhips in ſilver; and this is the reaſon, together with German in⯑trigue, and German ſubſidies, there is ſo little ſilver in England.

But any war is harveſt to ſuch governments, how⯑ever ruinous it may be to a nation. It ſerves to [167] keep up deceitful expectations which prevent a people looking into the defects and abuſes of go⯑vernment. It is the lo here! and the lo there! that amuſes and cheats the multitude.

Never did ſo great an opportunity offer itſelf to England, and to all Europe, as is produced by the two Revolutions of America and France. By the former, freedom has a national champion in the Weſtern world; and by the latter, in Europe. When another nation ſhall join France, deſpotiſm and bad government will ſcarcely dare to appear. To uſe a trite expreſſion, the iron is becoming hot all over Europe. The inſulted German and the enſlaved Spaniard, the Ruſs and the Pole, are be⯑ginning to think. The preſent age will hereafter merit to be called the Age of reaſon, and the pre⯑ſent generation will appear to the future as the Adam of a new world.

When all the governments of Europe ſhall be eſtabliſhed on the repreſentative ſyſtem, nations will become acquainted, and the animoſities and prejudices fomented by the intrigue and artifice of courts, will ceaſe. The oppreſſed ſoldier will become a freeman; and the tortured ſailor, no longer dragged along the ſtreets like a felon, will purſue his mercantile voyage in ſafety. It would be better that nations ſhould continue the pay of their ſoldiers during their lives, and give them their diſcharge and reſtore them to freedom and their friends, and ceaſe recruiting, than retain ſuch mul⯑titudes at the ſame expence, in a condition uſeleſs [168] to ſociety and themſelves. As ſoldiers have hither⯑to been treated in moſt countries, they might be ſaid to be without a friend. Shunned by the citi⯑zen on an apprehenſion of being enemies to liber⯑ty, and too often inſulted by thoſe who com⯑manded them, their condition was a double op⯑preſſion. But where genuine principles of liberty pervade a people, every thing is reſtored to order; and the ſoldier civily treated, returns the civi⯑lity.

In contemplating revolutions, it is eaſy to per⯑ceive that they may ariſe from two diſtinct cauſes; the one, to avoid or get rid of ſome great calamity; the other, to obtain ſome great and poſitive good; and the two may be diſtinguiſhed by the names of active and paſſive revolutions. In thoſe which proceed from the former cauſe, the temper be⯑comes incenſed and ſowered; and the redreſs, ob⯑tained by danger, is too often ſullied by revenge. But in thoſe which proceed from the latter, the heart, rather animated than agitated, enters ſe⯑renely upon the ſubject. Reaſon and diſcuſſion, perſuaſion and conviction, become the weapons in the conteſt, and it is only when thoſe are attempted to be ſuppreſſed that recource is had to violence. When men unite in agreeing that a thing is good, could it be obtained, ſuch as relief from a burden of taxes and the extinction of corruption, the ob⯑ject is more than half accompliſhed. What they approve as the end, they will promote in the means.

[169]Will any man ſay, in the preſent exceſs of tax⯑ation, falling ſo heavily on the poor, that a remiſ⯑ſion of five pounds annually of taxes to one hun⯑dred and four thouſand poor families is not a good thing? Will he ſay, that a remiſſion of ſeven pounds annually to one hundred thouſand other poor families—of eight pounds annually to another hundred thouſand poor families, and of ten pounds annually to fifty thouſand poor and widowed fami⯑lies, are not good things? And to proceed a ſtep farther in this climax, will he ſay, that to provide againſt the misfortunes to which all human life is ſubject, by ſecuring ſix pounds annually for all poor, diſtreſſed, and reduced perſons of the age of fifty and until ſixty, and of ten pounds annually after ſixty is not a good thing?

Will he ſay, that an abolition of two million of poor-rates to the houſe-keepers, and of the whole of the houſe and window-light tax and of the com⯑mutation tax is not a good thing? Or will he ſay, that to aboliſh corruption is a bad thing?

If, therefore, the good to be obtained be worthy of a paſſive, rational, and coſtleſs revolution, it would be bad policy to prefer waiting for a cala⯑mity that ſhould force a violent one. I have no idea, conſidering the reforms which are now paſſing and ſpreading throughout Europe, that England will permit herſelf to be the laſt; and where the occaſion and the opportunity quietly offer, it is better than to wait for a turbulent neceſſity. It may be conſidered as an honour to the animal facul⯑ties [170] of man to obtain redreſs by courage and dan⯑ger, but it is far greater honour to the rational fa⯑culties to accompliſh the ſame object by reaſon, accommodation, and general conſent^*.

As reforms, or revolutions, call them which you pleaſe, extend themſelves among nations, thoſe nations will form connections and conventions, and when a few are thus confederated, the pro⯑greſs will be rapid, till deſpotiſm and corrupt go⯑vernment be totally expelled, at leaſt out of two quarters of the world, Europe and America. The Algerine piracy may then be commanded to ceaſe, for it is only by the malicious policy of old go⯑vernments, againſt each other, that it exiſts.

[171]Throughout this work, various and numerous as the ſubjects are, which I have taken up and in⯑veſtigated, there is only a ſingle paragraph upon religion, viz. ‘that every religion is good, that teaches man to be good.’

I have carefully avoided to enlarge upon the ſubject, becauſe I am inclined to believe, that what is called the preſent miniſtry wiſh to ſee contentions about religion kept up, to prevent the nation turning its attention to ſubjects of govern⯑ment. It is, as if they were to ſay, ‘Look that way, or any way, but this.’

But as religion is very improperly made a poli⯑tical machine, and the reality of it is thereby de⯑ſtroyed, I will conclude this work with ſtating in what light religion appears to me.

If we ſuppoſe a large family of children, who, on any particular day, or particular circumſtance, made it a cuſtom to preſent to their parent ſome token of their affection and gratitude, each of them would make a different offering, and moſt proba⯑bly in a different manner. Some would pay their congratulations in themes of verſe or proſe, by ſome little devices, as their genius dic⯑tated, or according to what they thought would pleaſe; and, perhaps, the leaſt of all, not able to do any of thoſe things, would ramble into the garden, or the field, and gather what it thought the prettieſt flower it could find, though, perhaps, it might be but a ſimple weed. The parent would be more gratified by ſuch variety, than if the whole of [172] them had acted on a concerted plan, and each had made exactly the ſame offering. This would have the cold appearance of contrivance, or the harſh one of controul. But of all unwelcome things, nothing could more afflict the parent than to know, that the whole of them had afterwards gotten together by the ears, boys and girls, fight⯑ing, ſcratching, reviling, and abuſing each other about which was the beſt or the worſt preſent.

Why may we not ſuppoſe, that the great Fa⯑ther of all is pleaſed with variety of devotion; and that the greateſt offence we can act, is that by which we ſeek to torment and render each other miſerable. For my own part, I am fully ſatisfied that what I am now doing, with an endeavour to conciliate mankind, to render their condition hap⯑py, to unite nations that have hitherto been ene⯑mies, and to extirpate the horrid practice of war, and break the chains of ſlavery and oppreſſion, is acceptable in his ſight, and being the beſt ſervice I can perform, I act it chearfully.

I do not believe that any two men, on what are called doctrinal points, think alike who think at all. It is only thoſe who have not thought that appear to agree. It is in this caſe as with what is called the Britiſh conſtitution. It has been taken for granted to be good, and encomiums have ſup⯑plied the place of proof. But when the nation come to examine into its principles and the abuſes it admits, it will be found to have more defects than I have pointed out in this work and the former.

As to what are called national religions, we [173] may, with as much propriety, talk of national Gods. It is either political craft or the remains of the Pagan ſyſtem, when every nation had its ſepa⯑rate and particular deity. Among all the writers of the Engliſh church clergy, who have treated on the general ſubject of religion, the preſent Biſhop of Landaff has not been excelled, and it is with much pleaſure that I take the opportunity of ex⯑preſſing this token of reſpect.

I have now gone through the whole of the ſub⯑ject, at leaſt, as far as it appears to me at preſent. It has been my intention for the five years I have been in Europe, to offer an addreſs to the people of England on the ſubject of government, if the op⯑portunity preſented itſelf before I returned to Ame⯑rica. Mr. Burke has thrown it in my way, and I thank him. On a certain occaſion three years ago, I preſſed him to propoſe a national convention to be fairly elected for the purpoſe of taking the ſtate of the nation into conſideration; but I found, that however ſtrongly the parliamentary current was then ſetting againſt the party he acted with, their policy was to keep every thing within that field of corruption, and truſt to accidents. Long ex⯑perience had ſhewn that parliaments would follow any change of miniſters, and on this they reſted their hopes and their expectations.

Formerly, when diviſions aroſe reſpecting go⯑vernments, recourſe was had to the ſword, and a civil war enſued. That ſavage cuſtom is exploded by the new ſyſtem, and reference is had to national conventions. Diſcuſſion and the general will ar⯑bitrates [174] the queſtion, and to this, private opinion yields with a good grace, and order is preſerved uninterrupted.

Some gentlemen have affected to call the prin⯑ciples upon which this work and the former part of Rights of Man are founded, "a new fangled doc⯑trine." The queſtion is not whether thoſe princi⯑ples are new or old, but whether they are right or wrong. Suppoſe the former, I will ſhew their ef⯑fect by a figure eaſily underſtood.

It is now towards the middle of February. Were I to take a turn into the country, the trees would preſent a leafleſs winterly appearance. As people are apt to pluck twigs as they walk along, I per⯑haps might do the ſame, and by chance might ob⯑ſerve, that a ſingle bud on that twig had begun to ſwell. I ſhould reaſon very unnaturally, or rather not reaſon at all, to ſuppoſe this was the only bud in England which had this appearance. Inſtead of deciding thus, I ſhould inſtantly conclude, that the ſame appearance was beginning, or about to begin, every where; and though the vegetable ſleep will continue longer on ſome trees and plants than on others, and though ſome of them may not bloſſom for two or three years, all will be in leaf in the ſummer, except thoſe which are rotten. What pace the political ſummer may keep with the na⯑tural, no human foreſight can determine. It is, however, not difficult to perceive that the ſpring is begun.—Thus wiſhing, as I ſincerely do, freedom and happineſs to all nations, I cloſe the