Rights of Man
Part the Second
Combining Principle And Practice
To M. de la Fayette
After an acquaintance of nearly fifteen years in difficult situations in
America, and various consultations in Europe, I feel a pleasure in presenting
to you this small treatise, in gratitude for your services to my beloved
America, and as a testimony of my esteem for the virtues, public and private,
which I know you to possess.
The only point upon which I could ever discover that we differed was not as
to principles of government, but as to time. For my own part I think it equally
as injurious to good principles to permit them to linger, as to push them on
too fast. That which you suppose accomplishable in fourteen or fifteen years, I
may believe practicable in a much shorter period. Mankind, as it appears to me,
are always ripe enough to understand their true interest, provided it be
presented clearly to their understanding, and that in a manner not to create
suspicion by anything like self-design, nor offend by assuming too much. Where
we would wish to reform we must not reproach.
When the American revolution was established I felt a disposition to sit
serenely down and enjoy the calm. It did not appear to me that any object could
afterwards arise great enough to make me quit tranquility and feel as I had
felt before. But when principle, and not place, is the energetic cause of
action, a man, I find, is everywhere the same.
I am now once more in the public world; and as I have not a right to
contemplate on so many years of remaining life as you have, I have resolved to
labour as fast as I can; and as I am anxious for your aid and your company, I
wish you to hasten your principles and overtake me.
If you make a campaign the ensuing spring, which it is most probable there
will be no occasion for, I will come and join you. Should the campaign
commence, I hope it will terminate in the extinction of German despotism, and
in establishing the freedom of all Germany. When France shall be surrounded
with revolutions she will be in peace and safety, and her taxes, as well as
those of Germany, will consequently become less.
LONDON, Feb. 9, 1792
When I began the chapter entitled the "Conclusion" in the former
part of the Rights Of Man, published last year, it was my
intention to have extended it to a greater length; but in casting the whole
matter in my mind, which I wish to add, I found that it must either make the
work too bulky, or contract my plan too much. I therefore brought it to a close
as soon as the subject would admit, and reserved what I had further to say to
Several other reasons contributed to produce this determination. I wished
to know the manner in which a work, written in a style of thinking and
expression different to what had been customary in England, would be received
before I proceeded farther. A great field was opening to the view of mankind by
means of the French Revolution. Mr. Burke's outrageous opposition thereto
brought the controversy into England. He attacked principles which he knew
(from information) I would contest with him, because they are principles I
believe to be good, and which I have contributed to establish, and conceive
myself bound to defend. Had he not urged the controversy, I had most probably
been a silent man.
Another reason for deferring the remainder of the work was, that Mr. Burke
promised in his first publication to renew the subject at another opportunity,
and to make a comparison of what he called the English and French
Constitutions. I therefore held myself in reserve for him. He has published two
works since, without doing this: which he certainly would not have omitted, had
the comparison been in his favour.
In his last work, his "Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs," he
has quoted about ten pages from the Rights Of Man, and having
given himself the trouble of doing this, says he "shall not attempt in the
smallest degree to refute them," meaning the principles therein contained.
I am enough acquainted with Mr. Burke to know that he would if he could. But
instead of contesting them, he immediately after consoles himself with saying
that "he has done his part." — He has not done his part. He has
not performed his promise of a comparison of constitutions. He started the
controversy, he gave the challenge, and has fled from it; and he is now a case
in point with his own opinion that "the age of chivalry is gone!"
The title, as well as the substance of his last work, his
"Appeal," is his condemnation. Principles must stand on their own
merits, and if they are good they certainly will. To put them under the shelter
of other men's authority, as Mr. Burke has done, serves to bring them into
suspicion. Mr. Burke is not very fond of dividing his honours, but in this case
he is artfully dividing the disgrace.
But who are those to whom Mr. Burke has made his appeal? A set of childish
thinkers, and half-way politicians born in the last century, men who went no
farther with any principle than as it suited their purposes as a party; the
nation was always left out of the question; and this has been the character of
every party from that day to this. The nation sees nothing of such works, or
such politics, worthy its attention. A little matter will move a party, but it
must be something great that moves a nation.
Though I see nothing in Mr. Burke's "Appeal" worth taking much
notice of, there is, however, one expression upon which I shall offer a few
remarks. After quoting largely from the Rights Of Man, and
declining to contest the principles contained in that work, he says: "This
will most probably be done (if such writings shall be thought to deserve any
other refutation than that of criminal justice) by others, who may think with
Mr. Burke and with the same zeal."
In the first place, it has not yet been done by anybody. Not less, I
believe, than eight or ten pamphlets intended as answers to the former part of
the Rights Of Man have been published by different persons,
and not one of them to my knowledge, has extended to a second edition, nor are
even the titles of them so much as generally remembered. As I am averse to
unnecessary multiplying publications, I have answered none of them. And as I
believe that a man may write himself out of reputation when nobody else can do
it, I am careful to avoid that rock.
But as I would decline unnecessary publications on the one hand, so would I
avoid everything that might appear like sullen pride on the other. If Mr.
Burke, or any person on his side the question, will produce an answer to the
Rights Of Man that shall extend to a half, or even to a fourth
part of the number of copies to which the Rights Of Man
extended, I will reply to his work. But until this be done, I shall so far take
the sense of the public for my guide (and the world knows I am not a flatterer)
that what they do not think worth while to read, is not worth mine to answer. I
suppose the number of copies to which the first part of the Rights Of
Man extended, taking England, Scotland, and Ireland, is not less than
between forty and fifty thousand.
I now come to remark on the remaining part of the quotation I have made
from Mr. Burke.
"If," says he, "such writings shall be thought to deserve
any other refutation than that of criminal justice."
Pardoning the pun, it must be criminal justice indeed that should condemn a
work as a substitute for not being able to refute it. The greatest condemnation
that could be passed upon it would be a refutation. But in proceeding by the
method Mr. Burke alludes to, the condemnation would, in the final event, pass
upon the criminality of the process and not upon the work, and in this case, I
had rather be the author, than be either the judge or the jury that should
But to come at once to the point. I have differed from some professional
gentlemen on the subject of prosecutions, and I since find they are falling
into my opinion, which I will here state as fully, but as concisely as I can.
I will first put a case with respect to any law, and then compare it with a
government, or with what in England is, or has been, called a constitution.
It would be an act of despotism, or what in England is called arbitrary
power, to make a law to prohibit investigating the principles, good or bad, on
which such a law, or any other is founded.
If a law be bad it is one thing to oppose the practice of it, but it is
quite a different thing to expose its errors, to reason on its defects, and to
show cause why it should be repealed, or why another ought to be substituted in
its place. I have always held it an opinion (making it also my practice) that
it is better to obey a bad law, making use at the same time of every argument
to show its errors and procure its repeal, than forcibly to violate it; because
the precedent of breaking a bad law might weaken the force, and lead to a
discretionary violation, of those which are good.
The case is the same with respect to principles and forms of government, or
to what are called constitutions and the parts of which they are, composed.
It is for the good of nations and not for the emolument or aggrandisement
of particular individuals, that government ought to be established, and that
mankind are at the expense of supporting it. The defects of every government
and constitution both as to principle and form, must, on a parity of reasoning,
be as open to discussion as the defects of a law, and it is a duty which every
man owes to society to point them out. When those defects, and the means of
remedying them, are generally seen by a nation, that nation will reform its
government or its constitution in the one case, as the government repealed or
reformed the law in the other. The operation of government is restricted to the
making and the administering of laws; but it is to a nation that the right of
forming or reforming, generating or regenerating constitutions and governments
belong; and consequently those subjects, as subjects of investigation, are
always before a country as a matter of right, and cannot, without invading the
general rights of that country, be made subjects for prosecution. On this
ground I will meet Mr. Burke whenever he please. It is better that the whole
argument should come out than to seek to stifle it. It was himself that opened
the controversy, and he ought not to desert it.
I do not believe that monarchy and aristocracy will continue seven years
longer in any of the enlightened countries in Europe. If better reasons can be
shown for them than against them, they will stand; if the contrary, they will
not. Mankind are not now to be told they shall not think, or they shall not
read; and publications that go no farther than to investigate principles of
government, to invite men to reason and to reflect, and to show the errors and
excellences of different systems, have a right to appear. If they do not excite
attention, they are not worth the trouble of a prosecution; and if they do, the
prosecution will amount to nothing, since it cannot amount to a prohibition of
reading. This would be a sentence on the public, instead of the author, and
would also be the most effectual mode of making or hastening revolution.
On all cases that apply universally to a nation, with respect to systems of
government, a jury of twelve men is not competent to decide. Where there are no
witnesses to be examined, no facts to be proved, and where the whole matter is
before the whole public, and the merits or demerits of it resting on their
opinion; and where there is nothing to be known in a court, but what every body
knows out of it, every twelve men is equally as good a jury as the other, and
would most probably reverse each other's verdict; or, from the variety of their
opinions, not be able to form one. It is one case, whether a nation approve a
work, or a plan; but it is quite another case, whether it will commit to any
such jury the power of determining whether that nation have a right to, or
shall reform its government or not. I mention those cases that Mr. Burke may
see I have not written on Government without reflecting on what is Law, as well
as on what are Rights. — The only effectual jury in such cases would be a
convention of the whole nation fairly elected; for in all such cases the whole
nation is the vicinage. If Mr. Burke will propose such a jury, I will waive all
privileges of being the citizen of another country, and, defending its
principles, abide the issue, provided he will do the same; for my opinion is,
that his work and his principles would be condemned instead of mine.
As to the prejudices which men have from education and habit, in favour of
any particular form or system of government, those prejudices have yet to stand
the test of reason and reflection. In fact, such prejudices are nothing. No man
is prejudiced in favour of a thing, knowing it to be wrong. He is attached to
it on the belief of its being right; and when he sees it is not so, the
prejudice will be gone. We have but a defective idea of what prejudice is. It
might be said, that until men think for themselves the whole is prejudice, and
not opinion; for that only is opinion which is the result of reason and
reflection. I offer this remark, that Mr. Burke may not confide too much in
what have been the customary prejudices of the country.
I do not believe that the people of England have ever been fairly and
candidly dealt by. They have been imposed upon by parties, and by men assuming
the character of leaders. It is time that the nation should rise above those
trifles. It is time to dismiss that inattention which has so long been the
encouraging cause of stretching taxation to excess. It is time to dismiss all
those songs and toasts which are calculated to enslave, and operate to
suffocate reflection. On all such subjects men have but to think, and they will
neither act wrong nor be misled. To say that any people are not fit for
freedom, is to make poverty their choice, and to say they had rather be loaded
with taxes than not. If such a case could be proved, it would equally prove
that those who govern are not fit to govern them, for they are a part of the
same national mass.
But admitting governments to be changed all over Europe; it certainly may
be done without convulsion or revenge. It is not worth making changes or
revolutions, unless it be for some great national benefit: and when this shall
appear to a nation, the danger will be, as in America and France, to those who
oppose; and with this reflection I close my Preface.
LONDON, Feb. 9, 1792
What Archimedes said of the mechanical powers, may be applied to Reason and
Liberty. "Had we," said he, "a place to stand upon, we might
raise the world."
The revolution of America presented in politics what was only theory in
mechanics. So deeply rooted were all the governments of the old world, and so
effectually had the tyranny and the antiquity of habit established itself over
the mind, that no beginning could be made in Asia, Africa, or Europe, to reform
the political condition of man. Freedom had been hunted round the globe; reason
was considered as rebellion; and the slavery of fear had made men afraid to
But such is the irresistible nature of truth, that all it asks, — and
all it wants, — is the liberty of appearing. The sun needs no inscription
to distinguish him from darkness; and no sooner did the American governments
display themselves to the world, than despotism felt a shock and man began to
The independence of America, considered merely as a separation from
England, would have been a matter but of little importance, had it not been
accompanied by a revolution in the principles and practice of governments. She
made a stand, not for herself only, but for the world, and looked beyond the
advantages herself could receive. Even the Hessian, though hired to fight
against her, may live to bless his defeat; and England, condemning the
viciousness of its government, rejoice in its miscarriage.
As America was the only spot in the political world where the principle of
universal reformation could begin, so also was it the best in the natural
world. An assemblage of circumstances conspired, not only to give birth, but to
add gigantic maturity to its principles. The scene which that country presents
to the eye of a spectator, has something in it which generates and encourages
great ideas. Nature appears to him in magnitude. The mighty objects he beholds,
act upon his mind by enlarging it, and he partakes of the greatness he
contemplates. — Its first settlers were emigrants from different European
nations, and of diversified professions of religion, retiring from the
governmental persecutions of the old world, and meeting in the new, not as
enemies, but as brothers. The wants which necessarily accompany the cultivation
of a wilderness produced among them a state of society, which countries long
harassed by the quarrels and intrigues of governments, had neglected to
cherish. In such a situation man becomes what he ought. He sees his species,
not with the inhuman idea of a natural enemy, but as kindred; and the example
shows to the artificial world, that man must go back to Nature for information.
From the rapid progress which America makes in every species of
improvement, it is rational to conclude that, if the governments of Asia,
Africa, and Europe had begun on a principle similar to that of America, or had
not been very early corrupted therefrom, those countries must by this time have
been in a far superior condition to what they are. Age after age has passed
away, for no other purpose than to behold their wretchedness. Could we suppose
a spectator who knew nothing of the world, and who was put into it merely to
make his observations, he would take a great part of the old world to be new,
just struggling with the difficulties and hardships of an infant settlement. He
could not suppose that the hordes of miserable poor with which old countries
abound could be any other than those who had not yet had time to provide for
themselves. Little would he think they were the consequence of what in such
countries they call government.
If, from the more wretched parts of the old world, we look at those which
are in an advanced stage of improvement we still find the greedy hand of
government thrusting itself into every corner and crevice of industry, and
grasping the spoil of the multitude. Invention is continually exercised to
furnish new pretences for revenue and taxation. It watches prosperity as its
prey, and permits none to escape without a tribute.
As revolutions have begun (and as the probability is always greater against
a thing beginning, than of proceeding after it has begun), it is natural to
expect that other revolutions will follow. The amazing and still increasing
expenses with which old governments are conducted, the numerous wars they
engage in or provoke, the embarrassments they throw in the way of universal
civilisation and commerce, and the oppression and usurpation acted at home,
have wearied out the patience, and exhausted the property of the world. In such
a situation, and with such examples already existing, revolutions are to be
looked for. They are become subjects of universal conversation, and may be
considered as the Order of the day.
If systems of government can be introduced less expensive and more
productive of general happiness than those which have existed, all attempts to
oppose their progress will in the end be fruitless. Reason, like time, will
make its own way, and prejudice will fall in a combat with interest. If
universal peace, civilisation, and commerce are ever to be the happy lot of
man, it cannot be accomplished but by a revolution in the system of
governments. All the monarchical governments are military. War is their trade,
plunder and revenue their objects. While such governments continue, peace has
not the absolute security of a day. What is the history of all monarchical
governments but a disgustful picture of human wretchedness, and the accidental
respite of a few years' repose? Wearied with war, and tired with human
butchery, they sat down to rest, and called it peace. This certainly is not the
condition that heaven intended for man; and if this be monarchy, well might
monarchy be reckoned among the sins of the Jews.
The revolutions which formerly took place in the world had nothing in them
that interested the bulk of mankind. They extended only to a change of persons
and measures, but not of principles, and rose or fell among the common
transactions of the moment. What we now behold may not improperly be called a
"counter-revolution." Conquest and tyranny, at some earlier period,
dispossessed man of his rights, and he is now recovering them. And as the tide
of all human affairs has its ebb and flow in directions contrary to each other,
so also is it in this. Government founded on a moral theory, on a system of
universal peace, on the indefeasible hereditary Rights of Man, is now revolving
from west to east by a stronger impulse than the government of the sword
revolved from east to west. It interests not particular individuals, but
nations in its progress, and promises a new era to the human race.
The danger to which the success of revolutions is most exposed is that of
attempting them before the principles on which they proceed, and the advantages
to result from them, are sufficiently seen and understood. Almost everything
appertaining to the circumstances of a nation, has been absorbed and confounded
under the general and mysterious word government. Though it avoids taking to
its account the errors it commits, and the mischiefs it occasions, it fails not
to arrogate to itself whatever has the appearance of prosperity. It robs
industry of its honours, by pedantically making itself the cause of its
effects; and purloins from the general character of man, the merits that
appertain to him as a social being.
It may therefore be of use in this day of revolutions to discriminate
between those things which are the effect of government, and those which are
not. This will best be done by taking a review of society and civilisation, and
the consequences resulting therefrom, as things distinct from what are called
governments. By beginning with this investigation, we shall be able to assign
effects to their proper causes and analyse the mass of common errors.
Of Society and Civilisation
Great part of that order which reigns among mankind is not the effect of
government. 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
formality of government was abolished. The mutual dependence and reciprocal
interest which man has upon man, and all the parts of civilised community 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 everything 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 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 centre.
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 existence, 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 composition and constitution of man,
the diversity of his wants, and the diversity of talents in different 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 civilisation are not conveniently competent; and instances are not
wanting to show, that everything which government can usefully add thereto, has
been performed by the common consent of society, without government.
For upwards of two years from the commencement of the American War, and to
a longer period in several of the American States, there were no established
forms of government. The old governments 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 pretended, that the abolition of
any formal government is the dissolution of society, that it acts by a contrary
impulse, and brings the latter the closer together. All that part of its
organisation which it had committed to its government, devolves again upon
itself, and acts through its medium. When men, as well from natural instinct as
from reciprocal benefits, have habituated themselves to social and civilised
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
government. 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 civilised life; and when even
the best that human 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 civilisation — to the common usage universally consented to,
and mutually and reciprocally maintained — to the unceasing circulation of
interest, which, passing through its million channels, invigorates the whole
mass of civilised man — it is to these things, infinitely more than to
anything which even the best instituted government can perform, that the safety
and prosperity of the individual and of the whole depends.
The more perfect civilisation 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
expenses of them increase in the proportion they ought to diminish. It is but
few general laws that civilised life requires, 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 are 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 operation of the parts upon each other.
Man, with respect to all those matters, is more a creature of consistency
than he is aware, or than 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 government! 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 otherwise 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 shows, by comparison, that governments, so
far from being always the cause or means of order, are often the 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 disguised 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 shows that something
is wrong in the system of government that injures the felicity by which society
is to be preserved.
But as a fact is superior to reasoning, the instance of America presents
itself to confirm these observations. 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 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
extravagance of a court rioting at its expense. 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 ignorance, and show and parade to fascinate
the vulgar. Lost in the abundance of his researches, he would have resolved and
re-resolved, and finally overlooked the plain and easy road that lay directly
One of the great advantages of the American Revolution has been, that it
led to a discovery of the principles, and laid open the imposition, of
governments. All the revolutions till then had been worked within the
atmosphere of a court, and never on the grand floor of a nation. The parties
were always of the class of courtiers; and whatever was their rage for
reformation, they carefully preserved the fraud of the profession.
In all cases they took care to represent government 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 government is nothing more than a national association adding on the
principles of society.
Having thus endeavoured to show that the social and civilised state of man
is capable of performing within itself almost everything 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.
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 moral. 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 America and France will
ever be remembered, because it is honourable to record it; but with respect to
the rest, even Flattery has consigned them to the tomb of time, without an
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 overrun 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.
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 contrivance to
obliterate it. Though not a courtier will talk of the curfew-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 considered 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 monarchy. It was ruffian
torturing ruffian. The conqueror 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 appearances, 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
usurped, they affected to inherit.
From such beginning of governments, what could be expected but a continued
system of war and extortion? It has established itself into a trade. The vice
is not peculiar to one more than to another, but is the common principle of
all. There does not exist within such governments sufficient stamina whereon to
engraft reformation; and the shortest and most effectual remedy is to begin
anew on the ground of the nation.
What scenes of horror, what perfection of iniquity, present themselves in
contemplating the character and reviewing the history of such governments! If
we would delineate human nature with a baseness of heart and hypocrisy of
countenance that reflection would shudder at and humanity 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, the world could
have been in the wretched and quarrelsome condition we have seen it? What
inducement has the farmer, while following the plough, to lay aside his
peaceful pursuit, 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 nations the dupes
of the game.
If there is anything to wonder at in this miserable 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 show that
instinct in animals does not act with stronger impulse than the principles of
society and civilisation operate in man. Under all discouragements, he pursues
his object, and yields to nothing but impossibilities.
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, civilisation and
commerce are capable of carrying mankind. Government, on the old system, is an
assumption of power, for the aggrandisement 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 encourages national prejudices; the other
promotes universal society, as the means of universal commerce. 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 Abbe Sieyes, that I address this chapter. I am already
engaged to 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 hereditary 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 cannot be proved by what
right hereditary government 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 ourselves
to come again into existence, instead of being succeeded by posterity, we have
not now the right of taking from ourselves the rights 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 explanation than that mankind are heritable property.
To inherit a government, is to inherit the people, as if they were flocks and
With respect to the second head, that of being inadequate to the purposes
for which government is necessary, we have only to consider what government
essentially is, and compare it with the circumstances 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 succession, 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 at the
abject state of the human mind in monarchical 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 temper of every succeeding individual, and is subject to all the
varieties of each. It is government through the medium of passions and
accidents. It appears under all the various characters of childhood,
decrepitude, dotage, a thing at nurse, in leading-strings, or in crutches. It
reverses the wholesome order of nature. It occasionally puts children over men,
and the conceits of nonage 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 appertain to
hereditary succession, the objection to it would be removed; but when we see
that nature acts as if she disowned and sported with the hereditary system;
that the mental character of successors, in all countries, is below the average
of human understanding; that one is a tyrant, another an idiot, a third insane,
and some all three together, it is impossible to attach confidence to it, when
reason in man has power to act.
It is not to the Abbe Sieyes that I need apply this reasoning; he has
already saved me that trouble by giving his own opinion upon the case. "If
it 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 of 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 society. But let us," continues he,
"refer to the history of all elective monarchies and principalities: is
there one in which the elective mode is not worse than the hereditary
As to debating on which is the worst of the two, it is admitting both to be
bad; and herein we are agreed. The preference which the Abbe 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 uselessness
in a state of civil government, than making it hereditary. Would we make any
office hereditary that required wisdom and abilities to fill it? And where
wisdom and abilities are not necessary, 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 light, by presenting it as an office which any child or idiot may
fill. It requires some talents to be a common mechanic; but to be a king
requires only the animal 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 show; 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 contended, 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 show
was not necessary in their governments.
Though the comparison between hereditary and elective monarchy, which the
Abbe has made, is unnecessary to the case, because the representative system
rejects both: yet, were I to make the comparison, I should decide contrary to
what he has done.
The civil wars which have originated from contested hereditary claims, are
more numerous, and have been more dreadful, and of longer continuance, than
those which have been occasioned by 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 of 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
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
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
The representative system takes society and civilisation for its basis;
nature, reason, and experience, for its guide.
Experience, in all ages, and in all countries, has demonstrated that it is
impossible to control 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 in the order of nature, the order of government must necessarily
follow it, or government will, as we see it does, degenerate into ignorance.
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 hereditary; and I carry the same idea into governments. An hereditary
governor is as inconsistent as an 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 unfinished, those sons could not have completed them.
Do we need a stronger evidence of the absurdity 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 character? 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 revolutions 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 dormant state, and which, unless something
excites it to action, will descend with him, in that condition, 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 regular operation, all that extent of capacity which never fails
to appear in revolutions.
This cannot take place in the insipid state of hereditary government, not
only because it prevents, but because it operates to benumb. When the mind of a
nation is bowed down by any political superstition in its government, such as
hereditary succession is, it loses a considerable portion of its powers on all
other subjects and objects. Hereditary succession requires the same obedience
to ignorance, as to wisdom; and when once the mind can bring itself to pay this
indiscriminate 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 the detection.
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 people, than in
anything which history affords.
Mr. Burke is so little acquainted with constituent principles of
government, that he confounds democracy and representation together.
Representation was a thing unknown in the ancient democracies. 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
signifies the form, as well as the public principle of the government. As those
democracies increased in population, and the territory extended, the simple
democratical form became unwieldy and impracticable; and as the system of
representation was not known, the consequence was, they either degenerated
convulsively into monarchies, or became absorbed into such as then existed. Had
the system of representation been then understood, as it now is, there is no
reason to believe that those forms of government, now called monarchical 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 solitary
condition of shepherds and herdsmen in other parts of the world, that afforded
opportunities 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 will proceed to remark on some others.
It has always been the political craft of courtiers and court-governments,
to abuse something which they called republicanism; but what republicanism was,
or is, they never attempt to explain. let us examine a little into this case.
The only forms of government are the democratical, 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 government
ought to be instituted, and on which 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 naturally 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
established and conducted for the interest of the public, as well individually
as collectively. It is not necessarily connected with any particular form, but
it most naturally associates with the representative form, as being best
calculated to secure the end for which a nation is at the expense of supporting
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 aristocratical, 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 a republic; and the Americans have taken care that
this, and no other, shall always be the object of their
government, by their rejecting everything hereditary, and establishing
governments 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 business of a government, for a form of
government; for the res-publica equally appertains to every extent of territory
and population. And, in the second place, if they meant anything with respect
to form, it was the simple democratical form, such as was the mode of
government in the ancient democracies, 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 various and
numerous circumstances of a nation, its agriculture, manufacture, trade,
commerce, etc., etc., 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 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
incapacity, of which all the great monarchies are an evidence. The monarchical
form, therefore, could not be a substitute for the democratical, because it has
Much less could it when made hereditary. This is the most effectual of all
forms to preclude knowledge. Neither could the high democratical mind have
voluntarily yielded itself to be governed 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 security for the right use and application of
Referring them to the original simple democracy, it affords the true data
from which government on a large scale can begin. It is incapable of extension,
not from its principle, but from the inconvenience of its form; and monarchy
and aristocracy, from their incapacity. Retaining, then, democracy as the
ground, and rejecting the corrupt systems of monarchy and aristocracy, the
representative system naturally presents itself; remedying at once the defects
of the simple democracy 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 ingrafting 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 hereditary
It is on this system that the American government 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 ancient
world; the other is becoming the admiration 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 ignorance and insecurity of the hereditary
mode, and the inconvenience of the simple democracy.
It is impossible to conceive a system of government capable of acting over
such an extent of territory, and such a circle of interests, as is immediately
produced by the operation of representation. France, great and populous as it
is, is but a spot in the capaciousness of the system. 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 representative 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
already been observed, never young, never old. It is subject neither to nonage,
nor dotage. It is never in the cradle, nor on crutches. It admits not of a
separation between knowledge and power, and is superior, 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 common
center, in which every radius meets; and that center is formed by
representation. To connect 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 parliamentary 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
republicanism 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 contend
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 understand what representation is; and that it must necessarily
include a variety of knowledge and talents. But what security is there for the
same qualities on the part of monarchy? or, when the 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 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 government
ought to possess. Every succession is a revolution, and every regency a
counter-revolution. The whole of it is a scene of perpetual court 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 anything 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 something 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 accident, the curtain
happens to be open — and the company see what it is, they burst into
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 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 government that counteracts
nature. It turns 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.
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 more matured, and he has lived
long enough to be acquainted with men and things, and the country with him.
— But on the monarchial plan (exclusive of the numerous chances there are
against every man born into the world, of drawing a prize in the lottery of
human 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 action 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.
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 expenses to such an enormous amount as this deception admits.
Government is not of itself a very chargeable institution. The whole expense of
the federal government of America, founded, as I have already said, on the
system of representation, 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 expense of the civil list only, for the support of one
man, is eight times greater than the whole expense 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 explode
ignorance and preclude imposition. The craft of courts cannot be acted on that
ground. There is no place for mystery; nowhere for it to begin. Those who are
not in the representation, know as much of the nature of business as those who
are. An affectation of mysterious importance 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 everything 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 compares 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 calculated to ensure this end. It is the popery of
government; a thing kept up to amuse the ignorant, 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 expense; and when they
are administered, the whole of civil government is performed — the rest is
all court contrivance.
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
constituting a government; and government without a constitution, is power
without a right.
All power exercised over a nation, must have some beginning. It must either
be delegated or assumed. There are no other sources. All delegated 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 circumstances 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 obscure 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 history, but of facts, is directly before us,
unmutilated 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
It may not appear improper to remind the reader that the United States of
America consist of thirteen separate states, each of which established a
government for itself, after the declaration of independence, done the 4th of
July, 1776. Each state acted independently of the rest, in forming its
governments; but the same general principle pervades the whole. When the
several state governments 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
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 commencement 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 country committees. When it became necessary to proceed to the
formation of a government, the committee of Philadelphia proposed a conference
of all the committees, to be held in that city, and which met the latter end of
Though these committees had been duly elected by the people, they were not
elected expressly for the purpose, nor invested with the authority of forming a
constitution; and as they could not, consistently 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 conferees, 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 approbation 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 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
assembly should continue, which was one year — the mode of levying, and of
accounting for the expenditure, of public money — of appointing public
officers, etc., etc., etc.
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 preclude 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 government issuing out of a
constitution, formed by the people in their original character; and that
constitution serving, not only as an authority, but as a law of control to the
government. It was the political bible of the state. Scarcely a family was
without it. Every member of the government had a copy; and nothing was more
common, 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 constitution
out of their pocket, and read the chapter with which such matter in debate was
Having thus given an instance from one of the states, I will show the
proceedings by which the federal constitution of the United States arose and
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 everything 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 shows, that the strength of government does not consist in
any thing itself, but in the attachment of a nation, and the interest which a
people feel in supporting it. When this is lost, government is but a child in
power; and though, like the old government in France, it may harass individuals
for a while, it but facilitates its own fall.
After the declaration of independence, it became 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 confederation (which was a
sort of imperfect federal constitution), was proposed, and, after long
deliberation, 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 concentrated 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 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 choose to employ them.
Government is not a trade which any man, or any 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 show the manner 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 government. 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, proposed holding a continental conference; in consequence
of which, a deputation from five or six state assemblies met at Annapolis, in
Maryland, in 1786. This meeting, not conceiving itself sufficiently 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.
The 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 subjects; 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 German Elector; but they referred the whole matter to the
sense and interest of the country.
They first directed that the proposed constitution 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 shall proceed to the election of their proportion of members
to the new federal government; and that the operation of it should then begin,
and the former federal government cease.
The several states proceeded accordingly to elect their conventions. Some
of those conventions ratified the constitution by very large majorities, 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 members 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 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 mankind, a prodigality
of pay, to which neither their 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 established, 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 constitutions, 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 constitutions, 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 not of those who exercise
the government. All the constitutions of America are declared to be established
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 everything 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 controlling 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 controlling powers
are together. The laws which are enacted by governments, control men only as
individuals, but the nation, through its constitution, controls the whole
government, and has a natural ability to do so. The final controlling 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 constitution; 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 investigated, 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 originally a tyranny, founded on an invasion and conquest 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 a manner a
constitution does; but was, as far as it went, of the nature of a re-conquest,
and not 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 government arose, issuing out of this
coalition bill of rights; and more so, since the corruption introduced 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
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 parliament,
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 these things a constitution, if the cry of constitution had
not been set up by the government. It has got into circulation like the words
bore and quoz [quiz], by being chalked up in the speeches of parliament, as
those words were on window shutters and doorposts; but whatever the
constitution 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, under what is called its present constitution, are forty-eight
shillings and sixpence per head — men, women, and children —
amounting to nearly seventeen millions sterling, besides the expense of
collecting, 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 government or any other expense 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 contrived, 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 wonder, 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 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 neglecting 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 advances 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
produce, 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
right 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
affirmative on the other; and therefore, Mr. Burke, by proving against the
Rights of Man, proves in 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 show 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
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
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 problematical.
The attention of the government of England (for I rather choose to call it
by this name than the English government) appears, since its political
connection with Germany, to have been so completely 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.
Almost every case must now be determined by some precedent, be that
precedent good or bad, or whether it properly applies or not; and the practice
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 doctrines of precedents, drawn from times and circumstances
antecedent to those events, has been the studied practice of the English
government. The generality of those precedents are founded on principles 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 superstitious reverence for ancient things, as monks show
relics and call them holy, the generality of mankind are deceived into the
design. Governments 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 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
Government by precedent, without any regard 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 a man in a state of
ignorance, or it is a practical confession that wisdom degenerates in
governments 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 antiquity treated! To 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 expenses of government
need not continue the same. Why pay men extravagantly, who have but little to
do? If everything 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 renovated,
or all the occasions for exercising its wisdom have occurred.
We now see all over Europe, and particularly in England, the curious
phenomenon of a nation looking one way, and the 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
Having thus spoken of constitutions generally, as things distinct from
actual governments, let us proceed to consider the parts of which a
constitution 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 opinions multiply.
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 possesses; 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 collectively.
Every man wishes to pursue his occupation, and to enjoy the fruits of his
labours and the produce of his property in peace and safety, and with the least
possible expense. When these 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 legislative, the executive, and the judicial.
But if we permit our judgment to act unincumbered 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. Everything, 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
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 they require any other than this, it is a sign that something in
the system of government is imperfect. Laws difficult to be executed cannot be
With respect to the organization of the legislative 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 opportunities of making the necessary trials on modes and principles of
government, in order to discover the best, that government is but now beginning
to be known, and experience is yet wanting to determine 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 deliberation, and consequently open to new
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
Thirdly, That two houses arbitrarily checking or controlling each other is
inconsistent; because it cannot be proved on the principles of just
representation, that either should be wiser or better than the other. They may
check in the wrong as well as in the right — 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.
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
remembered, that when there is a constitution which defines the power, and
establishes the principles within which a legislature shall act, there is
already 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 American legislatures similar to
that which was passed into an act by the English parliament, at the
commencement of George the First, to extend the duration 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 inconsistencies,
in some cases absurdities, arising from two houses, the following method has
been proposed 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 representation to assemble for a general debate
and determination by vote.
To this proposed improvement has been added another, for the purpose of
keeping the representation in the 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 general 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 representative government is freedom.
Considering government in the only light in which it should be considered,
that of a National Association, it ought to be so constructed
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 individual. The death, sickness, absence or
defection, 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 circumstance had
taken place in a member of the English Parliament, or the French National
Scarcely anything presents a more degrading character of national
greatness, than its being thrown into confusion, by anything happening to or
acted by any 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 governments.
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 circumstances whatever.
The system of representation provides for everything, 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
person, 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 service of any such
individual in the routine of office, whether such office be called monarchical,
presidential, senatorial, or by any other name or title, can never exceed the
value of ten thousand 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 routine of office is always regulated to such a general standard of
abilities as to be within the compass of numbers in every country to perform,
and therefore cannot merit very extraordinary recompense. 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. Government 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 on this part of the
subject I shall speak hereafter, and confine myself at present to political
When extraordinary power and extraordinary pay are allotted to any
individual in a government, 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 expense of a
country, and the liberties of that country are no longer secure. What is called
the splendour of a throne is no other than the corruption of the state. It is
made up of a band of parasites, living in luxurious indolence, out of the
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 million a
year is the last person to promote a spirit of reform, lest, in the event, it
should reach to himself. It is always his interest to defend inferior abuses,
as so many outworks to protect the citadel; and on 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.
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 pretensions to government, it also rejects all that catalogue of
assumptions known by the name of prerogatives.
If there is any government where prerogatives might with apparent safety be
entrusted to any individual, it is in the federal 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 Government of England, the
difference when applied to the latter amounts to an absurdity. In England the
person who exercises prerogative is often a 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 anything, and becomes of
age at eighteen years; yet such a person is permitted 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, accomplish 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 dictatorship 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 sometimes 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 admitted. 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 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 everything else is an official department.
Next to the arrangement of the principles and the organization of the
several parts of a constitution, is the provision to be made for the support of
the persons to whom the nation shall confide the administration of the
A nation can have no right to the time and services of any person at his
own expense, whom it may choose to employ or entrust in any department
whatever; neither can any reason be given 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 entrusted 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 expense 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 government is decently provided for;
but no one is extravagantly paid. Every member of Congress, and of the
Assemblies, is allowed a sufficiency for his expenses. 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 expense, applied as it is in
America, would remedy a great part of the corruption.
Another reform in the American constitution 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 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 a 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 government 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
To conclude this part of the subject: — One of the greatest
improvements that have been made for the perpetual security and progress of
constitutional liberty, is the provision which the new constitutions make for
occasionally revising, altering, and amending them.
The principle upon which Mr. Burke formed his political creed, that of
"binding and controlling 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
exercise of power, which forbade all effectual enquiry 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 revision, or laid down the mode by which improvement shall
be made. It is perhaps impossible to establish anything 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 accumulating, 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 monopolised 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 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 devised,
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 conditions 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 circumstances, the means of benefitting by every change,
foreign or domestic, should be a part of every constitution. 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 could 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 shows that
man, were he not 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 anything which appertains to man, instead of
which it has been monopolised from age to age, by the most ignorant and vicious
of the human race. Need we any other proof of their wretched management, 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 condition, 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.
Ways And Means Of Improving The Condition Of Europe Interspersed With
In contemplating a subject that embraces with equatorial magnitude the whole
region of humanity 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. Without
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 more propriety, and
stronger effect, some preliminary observations, deducible from, or connected
with, those principles, are necessary.
Whatever the form or constitution of government may be, it ought to have no
other object than the general happiness. When, instead of this, it operates to
create and increase wretchedness in any of the parts of society, it is on a
wrong system, and reformation is necessary. Customary language has classed the
condition of man under the two descriptions of civilised and uncivilised life.
To the one it has ascribed felicity 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
civilised countries, are in a state of poverty and wretchedness, far below the
condition of an Indian. I speak not of one country, but of all. It is so in
England, it is so all over Europe. Let us enquire into the cause.
It lies not in any natural defect in the principles of civilisation, but in
preventing those principles having a universal operation; the consequence of
which is, a perpetual system of war and expense, that drains the country, and
defeats the general felicity of which civilisation is capable. All the European
governments (France now excepted) are constructed not on the principle of
universal civilisation, but on the reverse of it. So far as those governments
relate to each other, they are in the same condition as we conceive of savage
uncivilised life; they put themselves beyond 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
civilisation of laws, easily civilise together, but governments being yet in an
uncivilised state, and almost continually at war, they pervert the abundance
which civilised life produces to carry on the uncivilised part to a greater
extent. By thus engrafting the barbarism of government upon the internal
civilisation 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. Apart 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 uncivilisation. It affords to
them pretences for power, and revenue, for which there would be neither
occasion nor apology, if the circle of civilisation were rendered complete.
Civil government alone, or the government of laws, is not productive of
pretences for many taxes; it operates at home, directly under the eye of the
country, and precludes the possibility of much imposition. But when the scene
is laid in the uncivilised contention of governments, the field of pretences is
enlarged, and the country, being no longer a judge, is open to every
imposition, which governments please to act. Not a thirtieth, scarcely a
fortieth, part of the taxes which are raised in England are either occasioned
by, or applied to, the purpose 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 expense,
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 cabinet government, which operates
abroad, on the rude plan of uncivilised life; the one attended with little
charge, the other with boundless extravagance; and so distinct are the two,
that if the latter were to sink, as it were, by a sudden opening 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 civilisation will be left to the enjoyment of
that abundance, of which it is now deprived. In contemplating the whole of this
subject, I extend my views into the department of commerce. In all my
publications, where the matter would admit, I have been an advocate for
commerce, because I am a friend to its effects. It is a pacific system,
operating to cordialise mankind, by rendering nations, as well as individuals,
useful to each other. As to the 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 universal extent it is capable, it
would extirpate the system of war, and produce a revolution in the uncivilised
state of governments. The invention of commerce has arisen since those
governments began, and is the greatest approach towards universal civilisation
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 individuals, multiplied
on a scale of numbers; and by the same rule that nature intended for the
intercourse of two, she intended that of all. For this purpose she has
distributed the materials of manufactures 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 commodiously as by commerce, she has rendered the latter the
means of extirpating the former. As the two are nearly the opposite of each
other, consequently, the uncivilised state of the European 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 carrier for the world, but she cannot be the merchant. She
cannot be the seller and buyer of her own merchandise. 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 what it may, is an index of the height of the
commercial tide in other nations. That the principles of commerce, and its
universal operation may be understood, without understanding 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 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 the destroying 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 quantity was
lessened everywhere; 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;
her imports are their exports, and vice versa. There can be no such thing as a
nation flourishing alone in commerce: she can only participate; and the
destruction of it in any part must necessarily affect all. When, therefore,
governments are at war, the attack is made upon a 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
contrivances, but to its own natural operation 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, and peace
has restored the deranged condition of things to their proper order. It is worth remarking that every
nation reckons 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 showing what he called a balance of trade from
the custom-house books. This mode of calculating 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, 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 these documents; and if we examine the natural operation of commerce, the
idea is fallacious; and if true, would soon be injurious. The great support of
commerce consists in the balance being a level of benefits among all nations.
Two merchants of different nations trading together, will both become rich,
and each makes the balance in his own favour; consequently, they do not get
rich 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
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 favour; but this is not gained out of
the foreign nation or the foreign merchant, for he also does the same by the
articles he receives, and neither has the advantage upon the other. The
original value of the two articles in their proper countries was but two
shillings; but by changing their places, they acquire a new idea of value,
equal to double what they had first, and that increased value is equally
There is no otherwise a balance on foreign than on domestic commerce. The
merchants of London and Newcastle trade on the same principles, 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, an 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 expense 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 participation without the expense
would be more valuable than a greater quantity with it.
But it is impossible to engross commerce by dominion; and therefore it is
still more fallacious. It cannot exist in confined channels, and necessarily
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
indifferent as to foreign possessions, and other nations will become the same
when they investigate the subject with respect to commerce.
To the expense of dominion is to be added that of navies, and when the
amounts 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 means of destruction for the means of protection. Commerce needs no
other protection than the reciprocal interest which every nation feels in
supporting it — it is common stock — it exists by a balance of
advantages to all; and the only interruption it meets, is from the present
uncivilised state of governments, and which it is its common interest to
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 inquire into the defects of its government. It is only by each nation
reforming its own, that the whole can be improved, and the full benefit of
reformation enjoyed. Only partial advantages can flow from partial reforms.
France and England are the only two countries in Europe where a reformation
in government could have successfully begun. The one secure by the ocean, and
the other by the immensity of its internal strength, could defy the malignancy
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 contest; 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 meditates revenge, is afraid to strike.
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
not, or Whig or Tory, high or low shall prevail; but whether man shall inherit
his rights, and universal civilisation 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
When, in countries that are called civilised, 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 exist in executions; but in making such provision
for the instruction 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, impostors and prostitutes; and even the poor themselves, with all
their wants upon them, are compelled to support the fraud that oppresses them.
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
purlieus 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 recompense — I fear no consequence. Fortified with
that proud integrity, that disdains to triumph 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, Captain Death. From this adventure I was happily prevented by the
affectionate and moral remonstrance of a good father, who, from his own habits
of life, being of the Quaker profession, 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 afterwards in the King of Prussia Privateer, Captain 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
government, 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
I begin with charters and corporations.
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
in all the inhabitants; but charters, by annulling those rights, in the
majority, leave the right, by exclusion, in the hands of a few. If charters
were constructed so as to express in direct terms, "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, exercise no other rights
than as members of the community 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 consequently 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 contentions 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 that a Frenchman is free of France, and
an American of America. His rights are circumscribed to the town, and, in some
cases, to the parish of his birth; and all other parts, though in his native
land, are to him as a foreign country. To acquire a residence in these, he must
undergo a local naturalisation by purchase, or he is forbidden or expelled the
place. This species of feudality is kept up to aggrandise the corporations 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),
everything 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.
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 show, by contrast, the
injuries which those Gothic institutions are to property and commerce. 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 corporation towns as the inhabitants themselves, it partakes of the
consequence. By lessening the value of property, the quantity of national
commerce is curtailed. Every man is a customer in proportion to his ability;
and as all parts of a nation trade with each other, whatever affects any of the
parts must necessarily communicate to the whole.
As one of the Houses of the English Parliament 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 fountain, 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 candidate, he must be destitute of
the qualities that constitute a just legislator; and being thus disciplined to
corruption by the mode of entering into Parliament, it is not to be expected
that the representative should be better than the man.
Mr. Burke, in speaking of the English representation, 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 show the contrary." — This declaration from a man who
has been in constant opposition to all the measures of parliament the whole of
his political life, a year or two excepted, is most extraordinary; and,
comparing him with himself, admits of no other alternative, than that he acted
against his judgment as a member, or has declared contrary to it as an author.
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 constituted on a ground very similar
to that, against which there is no law in other cases. It amounts to a
combination of persons in one common interest. No better reason can be given,
why a house of legislation should be composed entirely of men whose occupation
consists in letting landed property, 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 always has made), is to ward off taxes from itself,
and throw the burthen upon those articles of consumption by which itself would
be least affected.
That this has been the consequence (and will always be the consequence) of
constructing governments on combinations, is evident with respect to England,
from the history of its taxes.
Notwithstanding taxes have increased and multiplied upon every article of
common consumption, the land-tax, which more particularly affects this
"pillar," has diminished. In 1778 the amount of the land-tax was
£1,950,000, which is half-a-million less than it produced almost a 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 era nearly thirteen millions
annually of new taxes have been thrown upon consumption. The consequence of
which has been a constant increase 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 expense of relieving it. It is
in manufacturing 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 aristocracy, who brew their own beer
free from this duty. It falls only on those who have not conveniency or ability
to brew, and who must purchase it in small quantities. But what will mankind
think of the justice of taxation, when they know that this tax alone, from
which the aristocracy 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 working 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 circumstances resulting from a house of legislation,
composed on the ground of a combination of common interest; for whatever 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 rate of wages;
or whether it acts to throw taxes from itself upon another class of the
community, the principle and the effect are the same; and if the one be
illegal, it will be difficult to show that the other ought to exist.
It is 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 has obtained so
much influence by borough-traffic, and so many of its relations and connections
are distributed on both sides the commons, as to give it, besides an absolute
negative in one house, a preponderancy in the other, in all matters of common
It is difficult to discover what is meant by the landed interest, if it
does not mean a combination of aristocratical landholders, 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 mankind 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 everything else, compared with this, are
supported but in parts. Their prosperity or their decay has not the same
universal influence. When the valleys laugh and sing, it is not the farmer
only, but all creation that rejoice. It is a prosperity that excludes all envy;
and this cannot be said of anything 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 ploughing, 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." Towards completing the figure, he has now
added the pillar; but still the base is wanting; and whenever a nation choose
to act a Samson, not blind, but bold, down will 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 a house of farmers,
there had been no game laws; or a house of merchants and manufacturers, the
taxes had neither been so unequal nor so excessive. It is from the power of
taxation being in 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 increase of the poor-rates, occasioned by taxes on consumption,
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 considerable 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 participators, 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 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 expense: in short, were an estimation 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
reputation 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," 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 denounce it as 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 arrived at a state of civilisation.
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 aristocrats.
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 idea that Mr. Burke writes, namely, that the people must be
hood-winked, and held in superstitious 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
The hazard to which this office is exposed in all countries, is not from
anything 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 act in the character of a judge, in administering or executing 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 executive 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 expenses.
Before I proceed to the means of rendering governments more conducive to
the general 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
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:
Annual taxes levied by William the Conqueror,
beginning in the year 1066 £400,000
Annual taxes at 100 years from the conquest (1166) 200,000
Annual taxes at 200 years from the conquest (1266) 150,000
Annual taxes at 300 years from the conquest (1366) 130,000
Annual taxes at 400 years from the conquest (1466) 100,000
These statements and those which follow, are taken from Sir John Sinclair's
History of the Revenue; by which it appears, that taxes continued 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 England 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 governments 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 economy of taxes.
Let us now review the remaining three hundred years:
Annual amount of taxes at:
500 years from the conquest (1566) 500,000
600 years from the conquest (1666) 1,800,000
the present time (1791) 17,000,000
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 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 about 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 expenditure on any other ground, than extravagance,
corruption, and intrigue.
With the Revolution of 1688, and more so since the Hanover succession, came
the destructive system of continental intrigues, and the rage for foreign wars
and foreign dominion; systems of such secure mystery that the expenses 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 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, deserves 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 matter
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 purposes that will be mentioned in their proper
What has happened may happen again. By the statement before shown 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 they admit 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:
Land-tax £ 1,950,000
Excise (including old and new malt) 6,751,727
Miscellaneous taxes and incidents 1,803,755
Since the year 1788, upwards of one million new taxes have been laid on,
besides the produce of the lotteries; and as the taxes have in general been
more productive since than before, the amount may be taken, in round numbers,
at £17,000,000. (The expense of collection and the drawbacks, which
together amount to nearly two millions, are paid out of the gross amount; and
the above is the net 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 expenses of each year. About nine
millions are appropriated 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 with England, her reduction of taxes can
only take place by reducing the current expenses, 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 counter-balance the enormous charge of the
American war; and the saving will 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 is, by some means or other, short of its proper proportion, being
not more than twenty millions, whereas it should be sixty (foreign intrigue,
foreign wars, foreign dominions, will in a great measure account for the
deficiency), it would, besides the injustice, be bad policy to extinguish a
capital that serves to supply that defect. But with respect to the current
expense, 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 Government (I do not mean the
nation) is unfriendly 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.
Taking it for granted that an alliance may be formed between England,
France, and America for the purposes hereafter to be mentioned, the national
expenses of France and England may consequently 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 correspondent principle. Confidence
can never take place while an hostile disposition remains in either, or where
mystery and secrecy on one side is opposed to candour and openness on the
These matters admitted, the national expenses 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 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 show modern
extravagance in a still worse light; especially as the pay of the navy, the
army, and the revenue officers has not increased since that time.
The peace establishment was then as follows (see Sir John Sinclair's
History of the Revenue):
|| £ 300,000
| Civil List
The parliament, however, settled the whole annual peace establishment at
$1,200,000. If we go back
to the time of Elizabeth the amount of all the taxes was but half a million,
yet the nation sees nothing during that period that reproaches it with want of
All circumstances, then, taken together, arising from the French
revolution, from the approaching harmony and reciprocal interest of the two
nations, the abolition of the court intrigue on both sides, and the progress of
knowledge in the science of government, the annual expenditure might be put
back to one million and a half, viz.:
Navy £ 500,000
Expenses of Government 500,000
Even this sum is six times greater than the expenses 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 expense 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 feels
his proper character he will. Upon all subjects of this nature, there is often
passing in the mind, a train of ideas he has not yet accustomed himself to
encourage and communicate. Restrained 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 on 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 routine of business, as
before observed, whether a man be styled a president, a king, an emperor, a
senator, or anything 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
consciousness 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
Washington, 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
physicians' bills have been sent to the public to be paid. No wonder that jails
are crowded, and taxes and poor-rates increased. Under such systems, nothing is
to be looked for but what has already happened; and as to reformation, whenever
it come, it must be from the nation, and not from the government.
To show that the sum of five hundred thousand pounds is more than
sufficient to defray all the expenses of the 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 representatives 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
expense which the representatives incur by that service, and not to it as an
If an allowance, at the rate of five hundred pounds per annum, be made to
every representative, deducting for non-attendance, the expense, if the whole
number attended for six months, each year, would be £ 75,00
The official departments cannot reasonably exceed the following number,
with the salaries annexed:
Three offices at ten thousand pounds each £ 30,000
Ten ditto, at five thousand pounds each 50,000
Twenty ditto, at two thousand pounds each 40,000
Forty ditto, at one thousand pounds each 40,000
Two hundred ditto, at five hundred pounds each 100,000
Three hundred ditto, at two hundred pounds each 60,000
Five hundred ditto, at one hundred pounds each 50,000
Seven hundred ditto, at seventy-five pounds each 52,500
If a nation choose, it can deduct four per cent. from all offices, and make
one of twenty thousand per annum.
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 show the
number of 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 expense. As to the manner in which office business is now
performed, the Chiefs, in several offices, such as the post-office, and certain
offices in the exchequer, etc., 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 a half as a sufficient peace
establishment for all the honest purposes of government, which is three hundred
thousand pounds more than the peace establishment 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 upwards of
six millions out of the present current expenses. The question then will be,
how to dispose 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 ton, 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 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 litigations, in
which the poor, instead of being relieved, are tormented. The expense, however,
is the same to the parish from whatever cause it arises.
In Birmingham, the amount of 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 as seven millions, would be but
one million four hundred thousand pounds. It is, therefore, most probable, that
the population of Birmingham is over-rated. Fourteen thousand pounds is the
proportion upon fifty thousand souls, taking two millions of poor-rates, as the
Be it, however, what it may, it is no other than the consequence of
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 or two or three children, does not pay less than
between 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 Debt, and
consequently equal to the whole expense of the American War.
It will then remain to be considered, which is the most effectual mode of
distributing this remission 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 humble invention, merit to be ranked
among the best of modern institutions.
Admitting England to contain seven millions of souls; if one-fifth thereof
are of that class of poor which need support, the number will be one million
four hundred thousand. Of this number, one hundred and forty thousand will be
aged poor, as will be hereafter shown, and for which a distinct provision will
There will then remain one million two hundred and sixty thousand which, at
five souls to each family, amount to two hundred and fifty-two thousand
families, rendered poor from the expense 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 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, the
number of children will be 630,000, the number of parents, were they all
living, would be 504,000
It is certain, that if the children are provided for, the parents are
relieved of consequence, because it is from the expense 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 under
fourteen years of age; enjoining the parents of such children to send them to
school, to learn reading, writing, and common arithmetic; the ministers of
every parish, of every denomination to certify jointly to an office, for that
purpose, that this duty is performed. The amount of this expense will be,
For six hundred and thirty thousand children at four pounds per annum each
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
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, blacksmith, etc., is prevented getting forward the whole of his
life from the want of a little common education when a boy.
I now proceed to the case of the aged.
I divide age into two classes. First, the approach 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 preceding 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 employments where much sight is
required, he fails apace, and sees himself, like an old horse, beginning to be
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 civilised
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 seventeen. If it be said that aged persons do not come much into 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 whatever else may befall, 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 themselves, and that not as a matter of grace and favour, but
of right, at one-third of the whole number, which is one hundred and forty
thousand, as stated in a previous page, and for whom a distinct provision was
proposed to be made. If there be more, society, notwithstanding the show and
pomposity 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 persons, I proceed to the mode of rendering their condition comfortable,
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 annum out of the surplus
taxes, and ten pounds per annum during life after the age of sixty. The expense
of which will be,
Seventy thousand persons, at £6 per annum £ 420,000
Seventy thousand persons, at £10 per annum 700,000
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 annum from the day of his (or her)
birth; and, if the expense of collection be added, he pays two pounds eleven
shillings and sixpence; consequently, 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) individual
tax in a tontine, the money he shall receive after fifty years is but little
more than the legal interest of the net 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 expenses of government. It is on this
ground that I have extended 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 of 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, sycophancy and Mr. Burke, let George,
let Louis, Leopold, Frederic, Catherine, Cornwallis, or Tippoo Saib, answer the
The sum thus remitted to the poor will be,
| To two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families, containing six
hundred and thirty thousand children
| To one hundred and forty thousand aged persons
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 children, under such a case,
would be in a worse condition than if their parents were actually poor. A
nation under a well-regulated government should permit none to remain
uninstructed. It is monarchical and aristocratical government only that
requires ignorance for its support.
Suppose, then, four hundred thousand children to be in this condition,
which is a greater number 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 expense 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 expense 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 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 immediately on the birth of a child, to
every woman who should make the demand, and none will make it whose
circumstances do not require it, it might relieve a great deal of instant
There are about two hundred thousand births yearly in England; and if
claimed by one fourth, the amount would be £50,000
And twenty shillings to every new-married couple who should claim in like
manner. This would not exceed the sum of £20,000.
Also twenty thousand pounds to be appropriated to defray the funeral
expenses 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
I shall finish this part of the subject with a plan adapted to the
particular condition of a metropolis, such as London.
Cases are continually occurring in a metropolis, different from 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 expectations, and with little or no
money, and unless he get immediate employment he is already half undone; and
boys bred up in London without any means of a livelihood, and as it often
happens of dissolute parents, are in a still worse condition; and servants long
out of place are not much better off. In short, a world of little cases is
continually arising, which busy or affluent life knows not of, to open the
first door to distress. Hunger is not among the postponable 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 hereafter to be mentioned, amounting to about twenty thousand pounds more,
cannot be better applied than to this purpose. The plan will then 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, without 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, and given to him or her, on their going away;
and that each person shall stay as long or as short a time, or come as often as
he choose, on these conditions.
If each person stayed 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 themselves,
and be enabled to look out for better employment.
Allowing that their labour paid but one half the expense of supporting
them, after reserving a portion 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 purpose, in addition to the
twenty thousand pounds, remaining of the former fund, will be the produce of
the tax upon coals, 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.
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 millions poor-rates.
Secondly, Provision for two
hundred and fifty thousand poor families.
Thirdly, Education for one million and thirty thousand children.
Fourthly, Comfortable provision for one hundred and forty thousand aged
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 expenses of
persons travelling for work, and dying at a distance from their friends.
Eighthly, Employment, at all times, for the casual poor in the cities of
London and Westminster.
By the operation of this plan, the poor laws, those instruments of civil
torture, will be superseded, and the wasteful expense of litigation prevented.
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;
and children will no longer be considered as increasing 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 embarrass trade by a sudden
interruption in the order of taxes, but effects the relief by changing the
application 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
Having now arranged and concluded this subject, I proceed to the next.
Taking the present current expenses 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 current expenses and four millions for
the before-mentioned service) the sum of two millions; part of which to be
applied as follows:
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 different
description of men from 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 disbanded, and that an
allowance be made to each of three shillings a week during life, clear of all
deductions, to be paid in the same manner as the Chelsea College pensioners are
paid, and for them to return to their trades and their friends; and also that
an addition of fifteen thousand sixpences per week be made to the pay of the
soldiers who shall remain; the annual expenses will be:
To the pay of fifteen thousand disbanded soldiers
at three shillings per week £117,000
Additional pay to the remaining soldiers 19,500
Suppose that the pay to the officers of the
disbanded corps be the same amount as sum allowed
to the men 117,000
To prevent bulky estimations, admit the same sum
to the disbanded navy as to the army,
and the same increase of pay 253,500
Every year some part of this sum of half a million (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 increased pay of twenty-nine thousand pounds. As it falls in, part
of the taxes may be taken off; and as, for instance, 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 a half of surplus
The tax on houses and windows is one of those direct taxes, which, like the
poor-rates, is not confounded with trade; and, when taken off, the relief will
be instantly felt. This tax falls heavy on the middle class of people. The
amount of this tax, by the returns of 1788, was:
Houses and windows: £ s. d.
By the act of 1766 385,459 11 7
By the act be 1779 130,739 14 5 1/2
Total 516,199 6 0 1/2
If this tax be struck off, there will then remain about one million of
surplus taxes; and as it is always proper to keep a sum in reserve, for
incidental matters, it may be best not to extend reductions further in the
first instance, but to consider what may be accomplished by other modes of
Among the taxes most heavily felt is the commutation tax. I shall therefore
offer a plan for its abolition, by substituting another in its place, which
will effect three objects at once: 1, that of removing the burthen to where it
can best be borne; 2, restoring justice among families by a distribution of
property; 3, extirpating the overgrown influence arising from the unnatural law
of primogeniture, which is one of the principal sources of corruption at
elections. The amount of commutation tax by the returns of 1788, was
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 something else
at another; but the real luxury does not consist in the article, but in the
means of procuring 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 another; 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 impolitic to set bounds to property
acquired by industry, and therefore it is right to place the prohibition beyond
the probable acquisition to which industry can extend; but there ought to be a
limit to property 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 substitute for the commutation tax. It will reach the
point of prohibition by a regular operation, and thereby supersede the
aristocratical law of primogeniture.
A tax on all estates of the clear yearly value of £50,
after deducting the land tax, and up
To £500 0s 3d per pound
From £500 to £1,000 0 6
On the second thousand 0 9
On the third " 1 0
On the fourth " 1 6
On the fifth " 2 0
On the sixth " 3 0
On the seventh " 4 0
On the eighth " 5 0
On the ninth " 6s 0d per pound
On the tenth " 7 0
On the eleventh " 8 0
On the twelfth " 9 0
On the thirteenth " 10 0
On the fourteenth " 11 0
On the fifteenth " 12 0
On the sixteenth " 13 0
On the seventeenth " 14 0
On the eighteenth " 15 0
On the nineteenth " 16 0
On the twentieth " 17 0
On the twenty-first " 18 0
On the twenty-second " 19 0
On the twenty-third " 20 0
The foregoing table shows the progression per pound on every progressive
thousand. The following table shows the amount of the tax on every thousand
separately, and in the last column the total amount of all the separate sums
An estate of:
£ 50 per annum at 3d per pound pays £0 12 6
100 " " " " 1 5 0
200 " " " " 2 10 0
300 " " " " 3 15 0
400 " " " " 5 0 0
500 " " " " 7 5 0
After £500, the tax of 6d. per pound takes place on the second
£500; consequently an estate of £1,000 per annum pays £2l, 15s.,
and so on.
For the 1st L500 at 0s 3d per pound £7 5s
2nd " 0 6 14 10 £21 15s
2nd 1000 at 0 9 37 11 59 5
3rd " 1 0 50 0 109 5
4th 1000 at 1s 6d per pound £75 0s £184 5s
5th " 2 0 100 0 284 5
6th " 3 0 150 0 434 5
7th " 4 0 200 0 634 5
8th " 5 0 250 0 880 5
9th " 6 0 300 0 1100 5
10th " 7 0 350 0 1530 5
11th " 8 0 400 0 1930 5
12th " 9 0 450 0 2380 5
13th " 10 0 500 0 2880 5
14th " 11 0 550 0 3430 5
15th " 12 0 600 0 4030 5
16th " 13 0 650 0 4680 5
17th " 14 0 700 0 5380 5
18th " 15 0 750 0 6130 5
19th " 16 0 800 0 6930 5
20th " 17 0 850 0 7780 5
21st " 18 0 900 0 8680 5
22nd 1000 at 19s 0d per pound £950 0s £9630 5s
23rd " 20 0 1000 0 10630 5
At the twenty-third thousand the tax becomes 20s. 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 produce more, it
ought to be lowered to that amount upon estates under two or three thousand a
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 measure. The aristocracy has screened itself too much, and this
serves to restore a part of the lost equilibrium.
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 aristocratical 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 expense of those for whom the
exemptions from those services were intended; instead of which, it was thrown on an
entirely different class of men.
But the chief object of this progressive tax (besides 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 principal 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 in useless posts, places
and offices, which when abolished will leave them destitute, unless the law of
primogeniture be also abolished or superseded.
A progressive tax will, in a great measure, effect this object, and that as
a matter of interest to the parties most immediately concerned, as will be seen
by the following table; which shows the net produce upon every estate, after
subtracting the tax. By this it will appear that after an estate exceeds
thirteen or fourteen thousand a year, the remainder produces but little profit
to the holder, and consequently, Will pass either to the younger children, or
to other kindred.
Showing the net produce of every estate from one thousand to twenty-three
thousand pounds a year
Showing the net produce of every estate from one thousand
to twenty-three thousand pounds a year
No of thousand Total tax
per annum subtracted Net produce
£1000 £21 £979
2000 59 1941
3000 109 2891
4000 184 3816
5000 284 4716
6000 434 5566
7000 634 6366
8000 880 7120
9000 1100 7900
10,000 1530 8470
11,000 1930 9070
12,000 2380 9620
13,000 2880 10,120
(No of thousand (Total tax
per annum) subtracted) (Net produce)
14,000 3430 10,570
15,000 4030 10,970
16,000 4680 11,320
17,000 5380 11,620
18,000 6130 11,870
19,000 6930 12,170
20,000 7780 12,220
21,000 8680 12,320
22,000 9630 12,370
23,000 10,630 12,370
N.B. The odd shillings are dropped in this table.
According to this table, an estate cannot produce more than £12,370
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 £23,000 a
year, divided into five estates of four thousand each and one of three, will be
charged only £1,129 which is but five per cent., but if held by one
possessor, will be charged £10,630.
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 loaded with the expense of
maintaining them; and the freedom of elections violated by the overbearing
influence which this unjust monopoly of family property produces. Nor is this
all. It occasions a waste of national property. A considerable part of the land
of the country is rendered unproductive, 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, natural, 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 contemplating the exposed condition, and
almost certain beggary of their younger offspring? Every aristocratical 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 almshouses, workhouses, 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; neither can the
system be supported by other means.
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
Several laws are in existence for regulating and limiting work-men's wages.
Why not leave them as free to make their own bargains, as the law-makers are to
let their farms and houses? Personal 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 increase the
expense of living by one law, and take away the means by another.
But if these 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 limitation on their own part, of not less than twelve thousand a-year, and
that of property they never acquired (nor probably any of their ancestors), and
of which they have made never acquire so ill a use.
Having now finished this subject, I shall bring the several particulars
into one view, and then proceed to other matters.
The first eight articles, mentioned earlier, are;
Abolition of two millions poor-rates.
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.
Annuity of six pounds (per annum) each for all poor persons, decayed
tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of fifty years,
and until sixty.
Annuity of ten pounds each for life for all poor persons, decayed
tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of sixty years.
Donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births.
Donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages.
Allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral expenses of persons
travelling for work, and dying at a distance from their friends.
Employment at all times for the casual poor in the cities of London and
Abolition of the tax on houses and windows.
Allowance of three shillings per week for life to fifteen thousand
disbanded soldiers, and a proportionate allowance to the officers of the
Increase of pay to the remaining soldiers of £19,500 annually.
The same allowance to the disbanded navy, and the same increase of pay, as
to the army.
Abolition of the commutation tax.
Plan of a progressive tax, operating to extirpate the unjust and unnatural
law of primogeniture, and the vicious influence of the aristocratical
There yet remains, as already stated, one million of surplus taxes. Some
part of this will be required for circumstances that do not immediately present
themselves, and such part as shall not be wanted, will admit of a further
reduction of taxes equal to that amount.
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
government to waste such an immensity of revenue in sinecures and nominal and
unnecessary places and officers, 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
upwards of one hundred years. It ought to be seventy. 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, startled at it, as it might lead to similar
expectations 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
hundred thousand pounds a year, which being done, every thing else was laid
With respect to another class of men, the inferior clergy, I forbear to
enlarge on their condition; 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 you 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 courtier, who lives the while on
the spoils 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 expense of collection and
drawbacks at the custom-house and excise-office are deducted; whereas the sum
paid into the exchequer is very nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions. 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
hundred 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 £9,150,138. 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 windows, 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 increasing the pay of the remainder, there will be a surplus of
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 hundred millions, but in the quantity of taxes collected every year to pay
the interest. If this quantity continues the same, the burthen of the national
debt is the same to all intents and purposes, be the capital more or less. The
only knowledge 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 millions that have been paid;
and it would require more money now to purchase up the capital, than when the
Digressing for a moment at this point, to which I shall return again, I
look back to the appointment 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 I felt it as a man. It had something in it which shocked, by
publicly sporting with decency, if not with principle. It was impudence in Lord
North; it was a 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. Everything was in his favour. Resentment
against the coalition 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 increase was thrown to his account.
When he came to the helm, the storm was over, and he had nothing to
interrupt his course. It required even ingenuity to be wrong, and he succeeded.
A little time showed 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
enemies, and provoked means to increase taxation. Aiming at something, he knew
not what, he ransacked Europe and India for adventures, and abandoning the fair
pretensions he began with, he 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
apparent 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 presumed to act.
All this seems to show that change of ministers amounts to nothing. One
goes out, another comes in, and still the same measures, vices, and
extravagance are pursued. It signifies not who is minister. The defect lies in
the system. The foundation and the superstructure of the government is bad.
Prop it as you please, it continually sinks into court government, and ever
I return, as I promised, to the subject of the national debt, that
offspring of the Dutch-Anglo revolution, and its handmaid the Hanover
But it is now too late to enquire how it began. Those to whom it is due
have advanced the money; 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
contemplating the nature and principles of government, and to understand taxes,
and make comparisons between 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 reform 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 the foreigners who came for what they could get, little
else was to be expected than what has happened.
Reasons are already advanced in this work, showing that whatever the
reforms in the taxes may be, they ought to be made in the current expenses 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 will be taken away; and by striking off such of the taxes as are
already mentioned, the nation will more than recover the whole expense 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 stockholders 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 capital which it keeps alive, a measure of this kind would so
far add to that balance as to silence objections.
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, 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 expense of collection.
One halfpenny in the pound would lessen the interest and consequently the
taxes, twenty thousand pounds. The tax on wagons 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 applying the tax raised from the property of
the debt toward its extinction, and not carry it to the current 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 circumstances 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 if it proceeded by some certain and
The fraud, hypocrisy, and imposition of governments, are now beginning to
be too well understood to promise them any long career. The farce of monarchy
and aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and Mr. Burke
is dressing aristocracy, in all countries, is following that of chivalry, and
Mr. Burke is dressing 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 expense of a million a
year, who understood neither her laws, her language, nor her interest, and
whose capacities 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
severe; in the latter, the nation acted with such a consolidated impulse, that
having no foreign enemy 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 universally obtained; and we may hereafter hope to see
revolutions, or changes in governments, produced 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 opposing the general will of a nation, whether by a party or by a
government. There ought, therefore, to be in every nation a method of
occasionally ascertaining the state of public opinion with respect to
government. On this point the old government of France was superior to the
present government of England, because, on extraordinary occasions, recourse
could be had 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 them are mere machines of the court, placemen, and dependants.
I presume, that though all the people of England 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
choose to pay ten times more taxes than there is any occasion for, it has a
right so to do; and so long as the majority do not impose conditions on the
minority, different from what they impose upon 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 begin. By
such a process no tumult is to be apprehended. 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 attention are, the French
revolution, and the prospect of a general revolution in governments. Of all
nations in Europe there is none so much interested in the French revolution as
England. Enemies for ages, and that at a vast expense, 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 doing this they will not
only prevent the further effusion of blood, and increase of taxes, but be in a
condition of getting rid of a considerable part of their present burthens, as
has been already stated. Long experience however has shown, 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
In the preceding part of this work, I have spoken of an alliance between
England, France, and America, for purposes that were to be afterwards
mentioned. Though I have no direct authority on the part of America, I have
good reason to conclude, that she is disposed to enter into a consideration of
such a measure, provided, that the governments with which she might ally, acted
as national governments, and not as courts enveloped in intrigue and mystery.
That France as a nation, 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 the errors and impositions under which they
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
It is, I think, certain, that if the fleets of England, 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
First, That no new ship of war shall be built by any power in Europe,
Second, 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 England, 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 expense 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 advantage, than any victory with all its expense. 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
It is, I think, also certain, that the above confederated powers, together
with that of the United States of America, can propose with effect, to Spain,
the independence of South America, and the opening those countries of immense
extent and wealth to the general commerce of the world, as North America now
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 increase ruin, desolation, and
misery. The horrid scene that is now acting by the English government in the
East-Indies, is fit only to be told of Goths and Vandals, who, destitute of
principle, 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 manufactures, 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 intrigue, and German subsidies, that there is so
little silver in England.
But any war is harvest to such governments, however ruinous it may be to a
nation. It serves to keep up deceitful expectations which prevent people from
looking into the defects and abuses of government. 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 beginning to think. The present age will hereafter
merit to be called the Age of Reason, and the present 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 through the streets like a felon, will pursue his mercantile voyage in
safety. It would be better that nations should wi 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 multitudes at
the same expense, in a condition useless to society and to themselves. As
soldiers have hitherto been treated in most countries, they might be said to be
without a friend. Shunned by the citizen on an apprehension of their being
enemies to liberty, and too often insulted by those who commanded them, their
condition was a double oppression. But where genuine principles of liberty
pervade a people, every thing is restored to order; and the soldier civilly
treated, returns the civility.
In contemplating revolutions, it is easy to perceive 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 becomes incensed and soured; and the
redress, obtained by danger, is too often sullied by revenge. But in those
which proceed from the latter, the heart, rather animated than agitated, enters
serenely 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 recourse is had to violence. When men unite in agreeing that
a thing is good, could it be obtained, such for instance as relief from a
burden of taxes and the extinction of corruption, the object is more than half
accomplished. What they approve as the end, they will promote in the means.
Will any man say, in the present excess of taxation, falling so heavily on
the poor, that a remission of five pounds annually of taxes to one hundred 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 families, are not good
things? And, to proceed a step further 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
Will he say that an abolition of two millions of poor-rates to the
house-keepers, and of the whole of the house and window-light tax and of the
commutation 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
calamity 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 faculties of man to obtain redress by
courage and danger, but it is far greater honour to the rational faculties to
accomplish the same object by reason, accommodation, and general
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 progress will be rapid, till despotism and
corrupt government 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 governments, against each other,
that it exists.
Throughout this work, various and numerous as the subjects are, which I
have taken up and investigated, 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 government. It is as if they were to say, "Look that way, or any way,
But as religion is very improperly made a political machine, and the
reality of it is thereby destroyed, 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 parents some
token of their affection and gratitude, each of them would make a different
offering, and most probably in a different manner. Some would pay their
congratulations in themes of verse and prose, by some little devices, as their
genius dictated, 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 a variety, than if the whole of 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 control. 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, fighting,
scratching, reviling, and abusing each other about which was the best or the
Why may we not suppose, that the great Father 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 happy, to unite nations that have hitherto been enemies,
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 cheerfully.
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 supplied the place
of proof. But when the nation comes 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 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 separate 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 Llandaff has not been excelled, and it is
with much pleasure that I take this opportunity of expressing this token of
I have now gone through the whole of the subject, 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 opportunity presented itself before I returned to America.
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 experience had shown
that parliaments would follow any change of ministers, and on this they rested
their hopes and their expectations.
Formerly, when divisions arose respecting governments, 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 arbitrates the question, and to this, private opinion yields with
a good grace, and order is preserved uninterrupted.
Some gentlemen have affected to call the principles upon which this work
and the former part of Rights of Man are founded, "a new-fangled
doctrine." The question is not whether those principles are new or old,
but whether they are right or wrong. Suppose the former, I will show their
effect 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, wintery appearance. As people are
apt to pluck twigs as they walk along, I perhaps might do the same, and by
chance might observe, 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 natural, 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 second part.