textfiles/etext/NONFICTION/paine-rights-399.txt

                                      1792

                               THE RIGHTS OF MAN

                                by Thomas Paine

                                      1792

                                 PART THE FIRST

                     BEING AN ANSWER TO MR. BURKE'S ATTACK

                            ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

                      George Washington

          PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

SIR,

  I present you a small treatise in defence of those principles of
freedom which your exemplary virtue hath so eminently contributed to
establish. That the Rights of Man may become as universal as your
benevolence can wish, and that you may enjoy the happiness of seeing
the New World regenerate the Old, is the prayer of

                                       SIR,

                              Your much obliged, and

                                   Obedient humble Servant,

                                                  THOMAS PAINE

  The Author's Preface to the English Edition

  From the part Mr. Burke took in the American Revolution, it was
natural that I should consider him a friend to mankind; and as our
acquaintance commenced on that ground, it would have been more
agreeable to me to have had cause to continue in that opinion than
to change it.

  At the time Mr. Burke made his violent speech last winter in the
English Parliament against the French Revolution and the National
Assembly, I was in Paris, and had written to him but a short time
before to inform him how prosperously matters were going on. Soon
after this I saw his advertisement of the Pamphlet he intended to
publish: As the attack was to be made in a language but little
studied, and less understood in France, and as everything suffers by
translation, I promised some of the friends of the Revolution in
that country that whenever Mr. Burke's Pamphlet came forth, I would
answer it. This appeared to me the more necessary to be done, when I
saw the flagrant misrepresentations which Mr. Burke's Pamphlet
contains; and that while it is an outrageous abuse on the French
Revolution, and the principles of Liberty, it is an imposition on
the rest of the world.

  I am the more astonished and disappointed at this conduct in Mr.
Burke, as (from the circumstances I am going to mention) I had
formed other expectations.

  I had seen enough of the miseries of war, to wish it might never
more have existence in the world, and that some other mode might be
found out to settle the differences that should occasionally arise
in the neighbourhood of nations. This certainly might be done if
Courts were disposed to set honesty about it, or if countries were
enlightened enough not to be made the dupes of Courts. The people of
America had been bred up in the same prejudices against France,
which at that time characterised the people of England; but experience
and an acquaintance with the French Nation have most effectually shown
to the Americans the falsehood of those prejudices; and I do not
believe that a more cordial and confidential intercourse exists
between any two countries than between America and France.

  When I came to France, in the spring of 1787, the Archbishop of
Thoulouse was then Minister, and at that time highly esteemed. I
became much acquainted with the private Secretary of that Minister,
a man of an enlarged benevolent heart; and found that his sentiments
and my own perfectly agreed with respect to the madness of war, and
the wretched impolicy of two nations, like England and France,
continually worrying each other, to no other end than that of a mutual
increase of burdens and taxes. That I might be assured I had not
misunderstood him, nor he me, I put the substance of our opinions into
writing and sent it to him; subjoining a request, that if I should see
among the people of England, any disposition to cultivate a better
understanding between the two nations than had hitherto prevailed, how
far I might be authorised to say that the same disposition prevailed
on the part of France? He answered me by letter in the most unreserved
manner, and that not for himself only, but for the Minister, with
whose knowledge the letter was declared to be written.

  I put this letter into the, hands of Mr. Burke almost three years
ago, and left it with him, where it still remains; hoping, and at
the same time naturally expecting, from the opinion I had conceived of
him, that he would find some opportunity of making good use of it, for
the purpose of removing those errors and prejudices which two
neighbouring nations, from the want of knowing each other, had
entertained, to the injury of both.

  When the French Revolution broke out, it certainly afforded to Mr.
Burke an opportunity of doing some good, had he been disposed to it;
instead of which, no sooner did he see the old prejudices wearing
away, than he immediately began sowing the seeds of a new
inveteracy, as if he were afraid that England and France would cease
to be enemies. That there are men in all countries who get their
living by war, and by keeping up the quarrels of Nations, is as
shocking as it is true; but when those who are concerned in the
government of a country, make it their study to sow discord and
cultivate prejudices between Nations, it becomes the more
unpardonable.

  With respect to a paragraph in this work alluding to Mr. Burke's
having a pension, the report has been some time in circulation, at
least two months; and as a person is often the last to hear what
concerns him the most to know, I have mentioned it, that Mr. Burke may
have an opportunity of contradicting the rumour, if he thinks proper.

                                                   THOMAS PAINE
FRENCH EDITION

  The Author's Preface to the French Edition

  The astonishment which the French Revolution has caused throughout
Europe should be considered from two different points of view: first
as it affects foreign peoples, secondly as it affects their
governments.

  The cause of the French people is that of all Europe, or rather of
the whole world; but the governments of all those countries are by
no means favorable to it. It is important that we should never lose
sight of this distinction. We must not confuse the peoples with
their governments; especially not the English people with its
government.

  The government of England is no friend of the revolution of
France. Of this we have sufficient proofs in the thanks given by
that weak and witless person, the Elector of Hanover, sometimes called
the King of England, to Mr. Burke for the insults heaped on it in
his book, and in the malevolent comments of the English Minister,
Pitt, in his speeches in Parliament.

  In spite of the professions of sincerest friendship found in the
official correspondence of the English government with that of France,
its conduct gives the lie to all its declarations, and shows us
clearly that it is not a court to be trusted, but an insane court,
plunging in all the quarrels and intrigues of Europe, in quest of a
war to satisfy its folly and countenance its extravagance.

  The English nation, on the contrary, is very favorably disposed
towards the French Revolution, and to the progress of liberty in the
whole world; and this feeling will become more general in England as
the intrigues and artifices of its government are better known, and
the principles of the revolution better understood. The French
should know that most English newspapers are directly in the pay of
government, or, if indirectly connected with it, always under its
orders; and that those papers constantly distort and attack the
revolution in France in order to deceive the nation. But, as it is
impossible long to prevent the prevalence of truth, the daily
falsehoods of those papers no longer have the desired effect.

  To be convinced that the voice of truth has been stifled in England,
the world needs only to be told that the government regards and
prosecutes as a libel that which it should protect.*[1] This outrage
on morality is called law, and judges are found wicked enough to
inflict penalties on truth.

  The English government presents, just now, a curious phenomenon.
Seeing that the French and English nations are getting rid of the
prejudices and false notions formerly entertained against each
other, and which have cost them so much money, that government seems
to be placarding its need of a foe; for unless it finds one somewhere,
no pretext exists for the enormous revenue and taxation now deemed
necessary.

  Therefore it seeks in Russia the enemy it has lost in France, and
appears to say to the universe, or to say to itself. "If nobody will
be so kind as to become my foe, I shall need no more fleets nor
armies, and shall be forced to reduce my taxes. The American war
enabled me to double the taxes; the Dutch business to add more; the
Nootka humbug gave me a pretext for raising three millions sterling
more; but unless I can make an enemy of Russia the harvest from wars
will end. I was the first to incite Turk against Russian, and now I
hope to reap a fresh crop of taxes."

  If the miseries of war, and the flood of evils it spreads over a
country, did not check all inclination to mirth, and turn laughter
into grief, the frantic conduct of the government of England would
only excite ridicule. But it is impossible to banish from one's mind
the images of suffering which the contemplation of such vicious policy
presents. To reason with governments, as they have existed for ages,
is to argue with brutes. It is only from the nations themselves that
reforms can be expected. There ought not now to exist any doubt that
the peoples of France, England, and America, enlightened and
enlightening each other, shall henceforth be able, not merely to
give the world an example of good government, but by their united
influence enforce its practice.

                                       (Translated from the French)

  Rights of Man

  Among the incivilities by which nations or individuals provoke and
irritate each other, Mr. Burke's pamphlet on the French Revolution
is an extraordinary instance. Neither the People of France, nor the
National Assembly, were troubling themselves about the affairs of
England, or the English Parliament; and that Mr. Burke should commence
an unprovoked attack upon them, both in Parliament and in public, is a
conduct that cannot be pardoned on the score of manners, nor justified
on that of policy.

  There is scarcely an epithet of abuse to be found in the English
language, with which Mr. Burke has not loaded the French Nation and
the National Assembly. Everything which rancour, prejudice,
ignorance or knowledge could suggest, is poured forth in the copious
fury of near four hundred pages. In the strain and on the plan Mr.
Burke was writing, he might have written on to as many thousands. When
the tongue or the pen is let loose in a frenzy of passion, it is the
man, and not the subject, that becomes exhausted.

  Hitherto Mr. Burke has been mistaken and disappointed in the
opinions he had formed of the affairs of France; but such is the
ingenuity of his hope, or the malignancy of his despair, that it
furnishes him with new pretences to go on. There was a time when it
was impossible to make Mr. Burke believe there would be any Revolution
in France. His opinion then was, that the French had neither spirit to
undertake it nor fortitude to support it; and now that there is one,
he seeks an escape by condemning it.

  Not sufficiently content with abusing the National Assembly, a great
part of his work is taken up with abusing Dr. Price (one of the
best-hearted men that lives) and the two societies in England known by
the name of the Revolution Society and the Society for
Constitutional Information.

  Dr. Price had preached a sermon on the 4th of November, 1789,
being the anniversary of what is called in England the Revolution,
which took place 1688. Mr. Burke, speaking of this sermon, says:
"The political Divine proceeds dogmatically to assert, that by the
principles of the Revolution, the people of England have acquired
three fundamental rights:

     1. To choose our own governors.

     2. To cashier them for misconduct.

     3. To frame a government for ourselves."

  Dr. Price does not say that the right to do these things exists in
this or in that person, or in this or in that description of
persons, but that it exists in the whole; that it is a right
resident in the nation. Mr. Burke, on the contrary, denies that such a
right exists in the nation, either in whole or in part, or that it
exists anywhere; and, what is still more strange and marvellous, he
says: "that the people of England utterly disclaim such a right, and
that they will resist the practical assertion of it with their lives
and fortunes." That men should take up arms and spend their lives
and fortunes, not to maintain their rights, but to maintain they
have not rights, is an entirely new species of discovery, and suited
to the paradoxical genius of Mr. Burke.

  The method which Mr. Burke takes to prove that the people of England
have no such rights, and that such rights do not now exist in the
nation, either in whole or in part, or anywhere at all, is of the same
marvellous and monstrous kind with what he has already said; for his
arguments are that the persons, or the generation of persons, in
whom they did exist, are dead, and with them the right is dead also.
To prove this, he quotes a declaration made by Parliament about a
hundred years ago, to William and Mary, in these words: "The Lords
Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, do, in the name of the people
aforesaid" (meaning the people of England then living) "most humbly
and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and posterities, for
EVER." He quotes a clause of another Act of Parliament made in the
same reign, the terms of which he says, "bind us" (meaning the
people of their day), "our heirs and our posterity, to them, their
heirs and posterity, to the end of time."

  Mr. Burke conceives his point sufficiently established by
producing those clauses, which he enforces by saying that they exclude
the right of the nation for ever. And not yet content with making such
declarations, repeated over and over again, he farther says, "that
if the people of England possessed such a right before the Revolution"
(which he acknowledges to have been the case, not only in England, but
throughout Europe, at an early period), "yet that the English Nation
did, at the time of the Revolution, most solemnly renounce and
abdicate it, for themselves, and for all their posterity, for ever."

  As Mr. Burke occasionally applies the poison drawn from his horrid
principles, not only to the English nation, but to the French
Revolution and the National Assembly, and charges that august,
illuminated and illuminating body of men with the epithet of usurpers,
I shall, sans ceremonie, place another system of principles in
opposition to his.

  The English Parliament of 1688 did a certain thing, which, for
themselves and their constituents, they had a right to do, and which
it appeared right should be done. But, in addition to this right,
which they possessed by delegation, they set up another right by
assumption, that of binding and controlling posterity to the end of
time. The case, therefore, divides itself into two parts; the right
which they possessed by delegation, and the right which they set up by
assumption. The first is admitted; but with respect to the second, I
reply-

  There never did, there never will, and there never can, exist a
Parliament, or any description of men, or any generation of men, in
any country, possessed of the right or the power of binding and
controlling posterity to the "end of time," or of commanding for
ever how the world shall be governed, or who shall govern it; and
therefore all such clauses, acts or declarations by which the makers
of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor the power
to do, nor the power to execute, are in themselves null and void.
Every age and generation must be as free to act for itself in all
cases as the age and generations which preceded it. The vanity and
presumption of governing beyond the grave is the most ridiculous and
insolent of all tyrannies. Man has no property in man; neither has any
generation a property in the generations which are to follow. The
Parliament or the people of 1688, or of any other period, had no
more right to dispose of the people of the present day, or to bind
or to control them in any shape whatever, than the parliament or the
people of the present day have to dispose of, bind or control those
who are to live a hundred or a thousand years hence. Every
generation is, and must be, competent to all the purposes which its
occasions require. It is the living, and not the dead, that are to
be accommodated. When man ceases to be, his power and his wants
cease with him; and having no longer any participation in the concerns
of this world, he has no longer any authority in directing who shall
be its governors, or how its government shall be organised, or how
administered.

  I am not contending for nor against any form of government, nor
for nor against any party, here or elsewhere. That which a whole
nation chooses to do it has a right to do. Mr. Burke says, No.
Where, then, does the right exist? I am contending for the rights of
the living, and against their being willed away and controlled and
contracted for by the manuscript assumed authority of the dead, and
Mr. Burke is contending for the authority of the dead over the
rights and freedom of the living. There was a time when kings disposed
of their crowns by will upon their death-beds, and consigned the
people, like beasts of the field, to whatever successor they
appointed. This is now so exploded as scarcely to be remembered, and
so monstrous as hardly to be believed. But the Parliamentary clauses
upon which Mr. Burke builds his political church are of the same
nature.

  The laws of every country must be analogous to some common
principle. In England no parent or master, nor all the authority of
Parliament, omnipotent as it has called itself, can bind or control
the personal freedom even of an individual beyond the age of
twenty-one years. On what ground of right, then, could the
Parliament of 1688, or any other Parliament, bind all posterity for
ever?

  Those who have quitted the world, and those who have not yet arrived
at it, are as remote from each other as the utmost stretch of mortal
imagination can conceive. What possible obligation, then, can exist
between them- what rule or principle can be laid down that of two
nonentities, the one out of existence and the other not in, and who
never can meet in this world, the one should control the other to
the end of time?

  In England it is said that money cannot be taken out of the
pockets of the people without their consent. But who authorised, or
who could authorise, the Parliament of 1688 to control and take away
the freedom of posterity (who were not in existence to give or to
withhold their consent) and limit and confine their right of acting in
certain cases for ever?

  A greater absurdity cannot present itself to the understanding of
man than what Mr. Burke offers to his readers. He tells them, and he
tells the world to come, that a certain body of men who existed a
hundred years ago made a law, and that there does not exist in the
nation, nor ever will, nor ever can, a power to alter it. Under how
many subtilties or absurdities has the divine right to govern been
imposed on the credulity of mankind? Mr. Burke has discovered a new
one, and he has shortened his journey to Rome by appealing to the
power of this infallible Parliament of former days, and he produces
what it has done as of divine authority, for that power must certainly
be more than human which no human power to the end of time can alter.

  But Mr. Burke has done some service- not to his cause, but to his
country- by bringing those clauses into public view. They serve to
demonstrate how necessary it is at all times to watch against the
attempted encroachment of power, and to prevent its running to excess.
It is somewhat extraordinary that the offence for which James II.
was expelled, that of setting up power by assumption, should be
re-acted, under another shape and form, by the Parliament that
expelled him. It shows that the Rights of Man were but imperfectly
understood at the Revolution, for certain it is that the right which
that Parliament set up by assumption (for by the delegation it had
not, and could not have it, because none could give it) over the
persons and freedom of posterity for ever was of the same tyrannical
unfounded kind which James attempted to set up over the Parliament and
the nation, and for which he was expelled. The only difference is (for
in principle they differ not) that the one was an usurper over living,
and the other over the unborn; and as the one has no better
authority to stand upon than the other, both of them must be equally
null and void, and of no effect.

  From what, or from whence, does Mr. Burke prove the right of any
human power to bind posterity for ever? He has produced his clauses,
but he must produce also his proofs that such a right existed, and
show how it existed. If it ever existed it must now exist, for
whatever appertains to the nature of man cannot be annihilated by man.
It is the nature of man to die, and he will continue to die as long as
he continues to be born. But Mr. Burke has set up a sort of
political Adam, in whom all posterity are bound for ever. He must,
therefore, prove that his Adam possessed such a power, or such a
right.

  The weaker any cord is, the less will it bear to be stretched, and
the worse is the policy to stretch it, unless it is intended to
break it. Had anyone proposed the overthrow of Mr. Burke's
positions, he would have proceeded as Mr. Burke has done. He would
have magnified the authorities, on purpose to have called the right of
them into question; and the instant the question of right was started,
the authorities must have been given up.

  It requires but a very small glance of thought to perceive that
although laws made in one generation often continue in force through
succeeding generations, yet they continue to derive their force from
the consent of the living. A law not repealed continues in force,
not because it cannot be repealed, but because it is not repealed; and
the non-repealing passes for consent.

  But Mr. Burke's clauses have not even this qualification in their
favour. They become null, by attempting to become immortal. The nature
of them precludes consent. They destroy the right which they might
have, by grounding it on a right which they cannot have. Immortal
power is not a human right, and therefore cannot be a right of
Parliament. The Parliament of 1688 might as well have passed an act to
have authorised themselves to live for ever, as to make their
authority live for ever. All, therefore, that can be said of those
clauses is that they are a formality of words, of as much import as if
those who used them had addressed a congratulation to themselves,
and in the oriental style of antiquity had said: O Parliament, live
for ever!

  The circumstances of the world are continually changing, and the
opinions of men change also; and as government is for the living,
and not for the dead, it is the living only that has any right in
it. That which may be thought right and found convenient in one age
may be thought wrong and found inconvenient in another. In such cases,
who is to decide, the living or the dead?

  As almost one hundred pages of Mr. Burke's book are employed upon
these clauses, it will consequently follow that if the clauses
themselves, so far as they set up an assumed usurped dominion over
posterity for ever, are unauthoritative, and in their nature null
and void; that all his voluminous inferences, and declamation drawn
therefrom, or founded thereon, are null and void also; and on this
ground I rest the matter.

  We now come more particularly to the affairs of France. Mr.
Burke's book has the appearance of being written as instruction to the
French nation; but if I may permit myself the use of an extravagant
metaphor, suited to the extravagance of the case, it is darkness
attempting to illuminate light.

  While I am writing this there are accidentally before me some
proposals for a declaration of rights by the Marquis de la Fayette
(I ask his pardon for using his former address, and do it only for
distinction's sake) to the National Assembly, on the 11th of July,
1789, three days before the taking of the Bastille, and I cannot but
remark with astonishment how opposite the sources are from which
that gentleman and Mr. Burke draw their principles. Instead of
referring to musty records and mouldy parchments to prove that the
rights of the living are lost, "renounced and abdicated for ever,"
by those who are now no more, as Mr. Burke has done, M. de la
Fayette applies to the living world, and emphatically says: "Call to
mind the sentiments which nature has engraved on the heart of every
citizen, and which take a new force when they are solemnly
recognised by all:- For a nation to love liberty, it is sufficient
that she knows it; and to be free, it is sufficient that she wills
it." How dry, barren, and obscure is the source from which Mr. Burke
labors! and how ineffectual, though gay with flowers, are all his
declamation and his arguments compared with these clear, concise,
and soul-animating sentiments! Few and short as they are, they lead on
to a vast field of generous and manly thinking, and do not finish,
like Mr. Burke's periods, with music in the ear, and nothing in the
heart.

  As I have introduced M. de la Fayette, I will take the liberty of
adding an anecdote respecting his farewell address to the Congress
of America in 1783, and which occurred fresh to my mind, when I saw
Mr. Burke's thundering attack on the French Revolution. M. de la
Fayette went to America at the early period of the war, and
continued a volunteer in her service to the end. His conduct through
the whole of that enterprise is one of the most extraordinary that
is to be found in the history of a young man, scarcely twenty years of
age. Situated in a country that was like the lap of sensual
pleasure, and with the means of enjoying it, how few are there to be
found who would exchange such a scene for the woods and wildernesses
of America, and pass the flowery years of youth in unprofitable danger
and hardship! but such is the fact. When the war ended, and he was
on the point of taking his final departure, he presented himself to
Congress, and contemplating in his affectionate farewell the
Revolution he had seen, expressed himself in these words: "May this
great monument raised to liberty serve as a lesson to the oppressor,
and an example to the oppressed!" When this address came to the
hands of Dr. Franklin, who was then in France, he applied to Count
Vergennes to have it inserted in the French Gazette, but never could
obtain his consent. The fact was that Count Vergennes was an
aristocratical despot at home, and dreaded the example of the American
Revolution in France, as certain other persons now dread the example
of the French Revolution in England, and Mr. Burke's tribute of fear
(for in this light his book must be considered) runs parallel with
Count Vergennes' refusal. But to return more particularly to his work.

  "We have seen," says Mr. Burke, "the French rebel against a mild and
lawful monarch, with more fury, outrage, and insult, than any people
has been known to rise against the most illegal usurper, or the most
sanguinary tyrant." This is one among a thousand other instances, in
which Mr. Burke shows that he is ignorant of the springs and
principles of the French Revolution.

  It was not against Louis XVI. but against the despotic principles of
the Government, that the nation revolted. These principles had not
their origin in him, but in the original establishment, many centuries
back: and they were become too deeply rooted to be removed, and the
Augean stables of parasites and plunderers too abominably filthy to be
cleansed by anything short of a complete and universal Revolution.
When it becomes necessary to do anything, the whole heart and soul
should go into the measure, or not attempt it. That crisis was then
arrived, and there remained no choice but to act with determined
vigor, or not to act at all. The king was known to be the friend of
the nation, and this circumstance was favorable to the enterprise.
Perhaps no man bred up in the style of an absolute king, ever
possessed a heart so little disposed to the exercise of that species
of power as the present King of France. But the principles of the
Government itself still remained the same. The Monarch and the
Monarchy were distinct and separate things; and it was against the
established despotism of the latter, and not against the person or
principles of the former, that the revolt commenced, and the
Revolution has been carried.

  Mr. Burke does not attend to the distinction between men and
principles, and, therefore, he does not see that a revolt may take
place against the despotism of the latter, while there lies no
charge of despotism against the former.

  The natural moderation of Louis XVI. contributed nothing to alter
the hereditary despotism of the monarchy. All the tyrannies of
former reigns, acted under that hereditary despotism, were still
liable to be revived in the hands of a successor. It was not the
respite of a reign that would satisfy France, enlightened as she was
then become. A casual discontinuance of the practice of despotism,
is not a discontinuance of its principles: the former depends on the
virtue of the individual who is in immediate possession of the
power; the latter, on the virtue and fortitude of the nation. In the
case of Charles I. and James II. of England, the revolt was against
the personal despotism of the men; whereas in France, it was against
the hereditary despotism of the established Government. But men who
can consign over the rights of posterity for ever on the authority
of a mouldy parchment, like Mr. Burke, are not qualified to judge of
this Revolution. It takes in a field too vast for their views to
explore, and proceeds with a mightiness of reason they cannot keep
pace with.

  But there are many points of view in which this Revolution may be
considered. When despotism has established itself for ages in a
country, as in France, it is not in the person of the king only that
it resides. It has the appearance of being so in show, and in
nominal authority; but it is not so in practice and in fact. It has
its standard everywhere. Every office and department has its
despotism, founded upon custom and usage. Every place has its
Bastille, and every Bastille its despot. The original hereditary
despotism resident in the person of the king, divides and
sub-divides itself into a thousand shapes and forms, till at last
the whole of it is acted by deputation. This was the case in France;
and against this species of despotism, proceeding on through an
endless labyrinth of office till the source of it is scarcely
perceptible, there is no mode of redress. It strengthens itself by
assuming the appearance of duty, and tyrannies under the pretence of
obeying.

  When a man reflects on the condition which France was in from the
nature of her government, he will see other causes for revolt than
those which immediately connect themselves with the person or
character of Louis XVI. There were, if I may so express it, a thousand
despotisms to be reformed in France, which had grown up under the
hereditary despotism of the monarchy, and became so rooted as to be in
a great measure independent of it. Between the Monarchy, the
Parliament, and the Church there was a rivalship of despotism; besides
the feudal despotism operating locally, and the ministerial
despotism operating everywhere. But Mr. Burke, by considering the king
as the only possible object of a revolt, speaks as if France was a
village, in which everything that passed must be known to its
commanding officer, and no oppression could be acted but what he could
immediately control. Mr. Burke might have been in the Bastille his
whole life, as well under Louis XVI. as Louis XIV., and neither the
one nor the other have known that such a man as Burke existed. The
despotic principles of the government were the same in both reigns,
though the dispositions of the men were as remote as tyranny and
benevolence.

  What Mr. Burke considers as a reproach to the French Revolution
(that of bringing it forward under a reign more mild than the
preceding ones) is one of its highest honors. The Revolutions that
have taken place in other European countries, have been excited by
personal hatred. The rage was against the man, and he became the
victim. But, in the instance of France we see a Revolution generated
in the rational contemplation of the Rights of Man, and distinguishing
from the beginning between persons and principles.

  But Mr. Burke appears to have no idea of principles when he is
contemplating Governments. "Ten years ago," says he, "I could have
felicitated France on her having a Government, without inquiring
what the nature of that Government was, or how it was administered."
Is this the language of a rational man? Is it the language of a
heart feeling as it ought to feel for the rights and happiness of
the human race? On this ground, Mr. Burke must compliment all the
Governments in the world, while the victims who suffer under them,
whether sold into slavery, or tortured out of existence, are wholly
forgotten. It is power, and not principles, that Mr. Burke
venerates; and under this abominable depravity he is disqualified to
judge between them. Thus much for his opinion as to the occasions of
the French Revolution. I now proceed to other considerations.

  I know a place in America called Point-no-Point, because as you
proceed along the shore, gay and flowery as Mr. Burke's language, it
continually recedes and presents itself at a distance before you;
but when you have got as far as you can go, there is no point at
all. Just thus it is with Mr. Burke's three hundred and sixty-six
pages. It is therefore difficult to reply to him. But as the points he
wishes to establish may be inferred from what he abuses, it is in
his paradoxes that we must look for his arguments.

  As to the tragic paintings by which Mr. Burke has outraged his own
imagination, and seeks to work upon that of his readers, they are very
well calculated for theatrical representation, where facts are
manufactured for the sake of show, and accommodated to produce,
through the weakness of sympathy, a weeping effect. But Mr. Burke
should recollect that he is writing history, and not plays, and that
his readers will expect truth, and not the spouting rant of high-toned
exclamation.

  When we see a man dramatically lamenting in a publication intended
to be believed that "The age of chivalry is gone! that The glory of
Europe is extinguished for ever! that The unbought grace of life (if
anyone knows what it is), the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of
manly sentiment and heroic enterprise is gone!" and all this because
the Quixot age of chivalry nonsense is gone, what opinion can we
form of his judgment, or what regard can we pay to his facts? In the
rhapsody of his imagination he has discovered a world of wind mills,
and his sorrows are that there are no Quixots to attack them. But if
the age of aristocracy, like that of chivalry, should fall (and they
had originally some connection) Mr. Burke, the trumpeter of the Order,
may continue his parody to the end, and finish with exclaiming:
"Othello's occupation's gone!"

  Notwithstanding Mr. Burke's horrid paintings, when the French
Revolution is compared with the Revolutions of other countries, the
astonishment will be that it is marked with so few sacrifices; but
this astonishment will cease when we reflect that principles, and
not persons, were the meditated objects of destruction. The mind of
the nation was acted upon by a higher stimulus than what the
consideration of persons could inspire, and sought a higher conquest
than could be produced by the downfall of an enemy. Among the few
who fell there do not appear to be any that were intentionally singled
out. They all of them had their fate in the circumstances of the
moment, and were not pursued with that long, cold-blooded unabated
revenge which pursued the unfortunate Scotch in the affair of 1745.

  Through the whole of Mr. Burke's book I do not observe that the
Bastille is mentioned more than once, and that with a kind of
implication as if he were sorry it was pulled down, and wished it were
built up again. "We have rebuilt Newgate," says he, "and tenanted
the mansion; and we have prisons almost as strong as the Bastille
for those who dare to libel the queens of France."*[2] As to what a
madman like the person called Lord George Gordon might say, and to
whom Newgate is rather a bedlam than a prison, it is unworthy a
rational consideration. It was a madman that libelled, and that is
sufficient apology; and it afforded an opportunity for confining
him, which was the thing that was wished for. But certain it is that
Mr. Burke, who does not call himself a madman (whatever other people
may do), has libelled in the most unprovoked manner, and in the
grossest style of the most vulgar abuse, the whole representative
authority of France, and yet Mr. Burke takes his seat in the British
House of Commons! From his violence and his grief, his silence on some
points and his excess on others, it is difficult not to believe that
Mr. Burke is sorry, extremely sorry, that arbitrary power, the power
of the Pope and the Bastille, are pulled down.

  Not one glance of compassion, not one commiserating reflection
that I can find throughout his book, has he bestowed on those who
lingered out the most wretched of lives, a life without hope in the
most miserable of prisons. It is painful to behold a man employing his
talents to corrupt himself. Nature has been kinder to Mr. Burke than
he is to her. He is not affected by the reality of distress touching
his heart, but by the showy resemblance of it striking his
imagination. He pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird.
Accustomed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath purloined him
from himself, he degenerates into a composition of art, and the
genuine soul of nature forsakes him. His hero or his heroine must be a
tragedy-victim expiring in show, and not the real prisoner of
misery, sliding into death in the silence of a dungeon.

  As Mr. Burke has passed over the whole transaction of the Bastille
(and his silence is nothing in his favour), and has entertained his
readers with refections on supposed facts distorted into real
falsehoods, I will give, since he has not, some account of the
circumstances which preceded that transaction. They will serve to show
that less mischief could scarcely have accompanied such an event
when considered with the treacherous and hostile aggravations of the
enemies of the Revolution.

  The mind can hardly picture to itself a more tremendous scene than
what the city of Paris exhibited at the time of taking the Bastille,
and for two days before and after, nor perceive the possibility of its
quieting so soon. At a distance this transaction has appeared only
as an act of heroism standing on itself, and the close political
connection it had with the Revolution is lost in the brilliancy of the
achievement. But we are to consider it as the strength of the
parties brought man to man, and contending for the issue. The Bastille
was to be either the prize or the prison of the assailants. The
downfall of it included the idea of the downfall of despotism, and
this compounded image was become as figuratively united as Bunyan's
Doubting Castle and Giant Despair.

  The National Assembly, before and at the time of taking the
Bastille, was sitting at Versailles, twelve miles distant from
Paris. About a week before the rising of the Partisans, and their
taking the Bastille, it was discovered that a plot was forming, at the
head of which was the Count D'Artois, the king's youngest brother, for
demolishing the National Assembly, seizing its members, and thereby
crushing, by a coup de main, all hopes and prospects of forming a free
government. For the sake of humanity, as well as freedom, it is well
this plan did not succeed. Examples are. not wanting to show how
dreadfully vindictive and cruel are all old governments, when they are
successful against what they call a revolt.

  This plan must have been some time in contemplation; because, in
order to carry it into execution, it was necessary to collect a
large military force round Paris, and cut off the communication
between that city and the National Assembly at Versailles. The
troops destined for this service were chiefly the foreign troops in
the pay of France, and who, for this particular purpose, were drawn
from the distant provinces where they were then stationed. When they
were collected to the amount of between twenty-five and thirty
thousand, it was judged time to put the plan into execution. The
ministry who were then in office, and who were friendly to the
Revolution, were instantly dismissed and a new ministry formed of
those who had concerted the project, among whom was Count de
Broglio, and to his share was given the command of those troops. The
character of this man as described to me in a letter which I
communicated to Mr. Burke before he began to write his book, and
from an authority which Mr. Burke well knows was good, was that of
"a high-flying aristocrat, cool, and capable of every mischief."

  While these matters were agitating, the National Assembly stood in
the most perilous and critical situation that a body of men can be
supposed to act in. They were the devoted victims, and they knew it.
They had the hearts and wishes of their country on their side, but
military authority they had none. The guards of Broglio surrounded the
hall where the Assembly sat, ready, at the word of command, to seize
their persons, as had been done the year before to the Parliament of
Paris. Had the National Assembly deserted their trust, or had they
exhibited signs of weakness or fear, their enemies had been encouraged
and their country depressed. When the situation they stood in, the
cause they were engaged in, and the crisis then ready to burst,
which should determine their personal and political fate and that of
their country, and probably of Europe, are taken into one view, none
but a heart callous with prejudice or corrupted by dependence can
avoid interesting itself in their success.

  The Archbishop of Vienne was at this time President of the
National Assembly- a person too old to undergo the scene that a few
days or a few hours might bring forth. A man of more activity and
bolder fortitude was necessary, and the National Assembly chose (under
the form of a Vice-President, for the Presidency still resided in
the Archbishop) M. de la Fayette; and this is the only instance of a
Vice-President being chosen. It was at the moment that this storm
was pending (July 11th) that a declaration of rights was brought
forward by M. de la Fayette, and is the same which is alluded to
earlier. It was hastily drawn up, and makes only a part of the more
extensive declaration of rights agreed upon and adopted afterwards
by the National Assembly. The particular reason for bringing it
forward at this moment (M. de la Fayette has since informed me) was
that, if the National Assembly should fall in the threatened
destruction that then surrounded it, some trace of its principles
might have the chance of surviving the wreck.

  Everything now was drawing to a crisis. The event was freedom or
slavery. On one side, an army of nearly thirty thousand men; on the
other, an unarmed body of citizens- for the citizens of Paris, on whom
the National Assembly must then immediately depend, were as unarmed
and as undisciplined as the citizens of London are now. The French
guards had given strong symptoms of their being attached to the
national cause; but their numbers were small, not a tenth part of
the force that Broglio commanded, and their officers were in the
interest of Broglio.

  Matters being now ripe for execution, the new ministry made their
appearance in office. The reader will carry in his mind that the
Bastille was taken the 14th July; the point of time I am now
speaking of is the 12th. Immediately on the news of the change of
ministry reaching Paris, in the afternoon, all the playhouses and
places of entertainment, shops and houses, were shut up. The change of
ministry was considered as the prelude of hostilities, and the opinion
was rightly founded.

  The foreign troops began to advance towards the city. The Prince
de Lambesc, who commanded a body of German cavalry, approached by
the Place of Louis XV., which connects itself with some of the
streets. In his march, he insulted and struck an old man with a sword.
The French are remarkable for their respect to old age; and the
insolence with which it appeared to be done, uniting with the
general fermentation they were in, produced a powerful effect, and a
cry of "To arms! to arms!" spread itself in a moment over the city.

  Arms they had none, nor scarcely anyone who knew the use of them;
but desperate resolution, when every hope is at stake, supplies, for a
while, the want of arms. Near where the Prince de Lambesc was drawn
up, were large piles of stones collected for building the new
bridge, and with these the people attacked the cavalry. A party of
French guards upon hearing the firing, rushed from their quarters
and joined the people; and night coming on, the cavalry retreated.

  The streets of Paris, being narrow, are favourable for defence,
and the loftiness of the houses, consisting of many stories, from
which great annoyance might be given, secured them against nocturnal
enterprises; and the night was spent in providing themselves with
every sort of weapon they could make or procure: guns, swords,
blacksmiths' hammers, carpenters' axes, iron crows, pikes, halberts,
pitchforks, spits, clubs, etc., etc. The incredible numbers in which
they assembled the next morning, and the still more incredible
resolution they exhibited, embarrassed and astonished their enemies.
Little did the new ministry expect such a salute. Accustomed to
slavery themselves, they had no idea that liberty was capable of
such inspiration, or that a body of unarmed citizens would dare to
face the military force of thirty thousand men. Every moment of this
day was employed in collecting arms, concerting plans, and arranging
themselves into the best order which such an instantaneous movement
could afford. Broglio continued lying round the city, but made no
further advances this day, and the succeeding night passed with as
much tranquility as such a scene could possibly produce.

  But defence only was not the object of the citizens. They had a
cause at stake, on which depended their freedom or their slavery. They
every moment expected an attack, or to hear of one made on the
National Assembly; and in such a situation, the most prompt measures
are sometimes the best. The object that now presented itself was the
Bastille; and the eclat of carrying such a fortress in the face of
such an army, could not fail to strike terror into the new ministry,
who had scarcely yet had time to meet. By some intercepted
correspondence this morning, it was discovered that the Mayor of
Paris, M. Defflesselles, who appeared to be in the interest of the
citizens, was betraying them; and from this discovery, there
remained no doubt that Broglio would reinforce the Bastille the
ensuing evening. It was therefore necessary to attack it that day; but
before this could be done, it was first necessary to procure a
better supply of arms than they were then possessed of.

  There was, adjoining to the city a large magazine of arms
deposited at the Hospital of the Invalids, which the citizens summoned
to surrender; and as the place was neither defensible, nor attempted
much defence, they soon succeeded. Thus supplied, they marched to
attack the Bastille; a vast mixed multitude of all ages, and of all
degrees, armed with all sorts of weapons. Imagination would fail in
describing to itself the appearance of such a procession, and of the
anxiety of the events which a few hours or a few minutes might
produce. What plans the ministry were forming, were as unknown to
the people within the city, as what the citizens were doing was
unknown to the ministry; and what movements Broglio might make for the
support or relief of the place, were to the citizens equally as
unknown. All was mystery and hazard.

  That the Bastille was attacked with an enthusiasm of heroism, such
only as the highest animation of liberty could inspire, and carried in
the space of a few hours, is an event which the world is fully
possessed of. I am not undertaking the detail of the attack, but
bringing into view the conspiracy against the nation which provoked
it, and which fell with the Bastille. The prison to which the new
ministry were dooming the National Assembly, in addition to its
being the high altar and castle of despotism, became the proper object
to begin with. This enterprise broke up the new ministry, who began
now to fly from the ruin they had prepared for others. The troops of
Broglio dispersed, and himself fled also.

  Mr. Burke has spoken a great deal about plots, but he has never once
spoken of this plot against the National Assembly, and the liberties
of the nation; and that he might not, he has passed over all the
circumstances that might throw it in his way. The exiles who have fled
from France, whose case he so much interests himself in, and from whom
he has had his lesson, fled in consequence of the miscarriage of
this plot. No plot was formed against them; they were plotting against
others; and those who fell, met, not unjustly, the punishment they
were preparing to execute. But will Mr. Burke say that if this plot,
contrived with the subtilty of an ambuscade, had succeeded, the
successful party would have restrained their wrath so soon? Let the
history of all governments answer the question.

  Whom has the National Assembly brought to the scaffold? None. They
were themselves the devoted victims of this plot, and they have not
retaliated; why, then, are they charged with revenge they have not
acted? In the tremendous breaking forth of a whole people, in which
all degrees, tempers and characters are confounded, delivering
themselves, by a miracle of exertion, from the destruction meditated
against them, is it to be expected that nothing will happen? When
men are sore with the sense of oppressions, and menaced with the
prospects of new ones, is the calmness of philosophy or the palsy of
insensibility to be looked for? Mr. Burke exclaims against outrage;
yet the greatest is that which himself has committed. His book is a
volume of outrage, not apologised for by the impulse of a moment,
but cherished through a space of ten months; yet Mr. Burke had no
provocation- no life, no interest, at stake.

  More of the citizens fell in this struggle than of their
opponents: but four or five persons were seized by the populace, and
instantly put to death; the Governor of the Bastille, and the Mayor of
Paris, who was detected in the act of betraying them; and afterwards
Foulon, one of the new ministry, and Berthier, his son-in-law, who had
accepted the office of intendant of Paris. Their heads were stuck upon
spikes, and carried about the city; and it is upon this mode of
punishment that Mr. Burke builds a great part of his tragic scene. Let
us therefore examine how men came by the idea of punishing in this
manner.

  They learn it from the governments they live under; and retaliate
the punishments they have been accustomed to behold. The heads stuck
upon spikes, which remained for years upon Temple Bar, differed
nothing in the horror of the scene from those carried about upon
spikes at Paris; yet this was done by the English Government. It may
perhaps be said that it signifies nothing to a man what is done to him
after he is dead; but it signifies much to the living; it either
tortures their feelings or hardens their hearts, and in either case it
instructs them how to punish when power falls into their hands.

  Lay then the axe to the root, and teach governments humanity. It
is their sanguinary punishments which corrupt mankind. In England
the punishment in certain cases is by hanging, drawing and quartering;
the heart of the sufferer is cut out and held up to the view of the
populace. In France, under the former Government, the punishments were
not less barbarous. Who does not remember the execution of Damien,
torn to pieces by horses? The effect of those cruel spectacles
exhibited to the populace is to destroy tenderness or excite
revenge; and by the base and false idea of governing men by terror,
instead of reason, they become precedents. It is over the lowest class
of mankind that government by terror is intended to operate, and it is
on them that it operates to the worst effect. They have sense enough
to feel they are the objects aimed at; and they inflict in their
turn the examples of terror they have been instructed to practise.

  There is in all European countries a large class of people of that
description, which in England is called the "mob." Of this class
were those who committed the burnings and devastations in London in
1780, and of this class were those who carried the heads on iron
spikes in Paris. Foulon and Berthier were taken up in the country, and
sent to Paris, to undergo their examination at the Hotel de Ville; for
the National Assembly, immediately on the new ministry coming into
office, passed a decree, which they communicated to the King and
Cabinet, that they (the National Assembly) would hold the ministry, of
which Foulon was one, responsible for the measures they were
advising and pursuing; but the mob, incensed at the appearance of
Foulon and Berthier, tore them from their conductors before they
were carried to the Hotel de Ville, and executed them on the spot. Why
then does Mr. Burke charge outrages of this kind on a whole people? As
well may he charge the riots and outrages of 1780 on all the people of
London, or those in Ireland on all his countrymen.

  But everything we see or hear offensive to our feelings and
derogatory to the human character should lead to other reflections
than those of reproach. Even the beings who commit them have some
claim to our consideration. How then is it that such vast classes of
mankind as are distinguished by the appellation of the vulgar, or
the ignorant mob, are so numerous in all old countries? The instant we
ask ourselves this question, reflection feels an answer. They rise, as
an unavoidable consequence, out of the ill construction of all old
governments in Europe, England included with the rest. It is by
distortedly exalting some men, that others are distortedly debased,
till the whole is out of nature. A vast mass of mankind are degradedly
thrown into the back-ground of the human picture, to bring forward,
with greater glare, the puppet-show of state and aristocracy. In the
commencement of a revolution, those men are rather the followers of
the camp than of the standard of liberty, and have yet to be
instructed how to reverence it.

  I give to Mr. Burke all his theatrical exaggerations for facts,
and I then ask him if they do not establish the certainty of what I
here lay down? Admitting them to be true, they show the necessity of
the French Revolution, as much as any one thing he could have
asserted. These outrages were not the effect of the principles of
the Revolution, but of the degraded mind that existed before the
Revolution, and which the Revolution is calculated to reform. Place
them then to their proper cause, and take the reproach of them to your
own side.

  It is the honour of the National Assembly and the city of Paris
that, during such a tremendous scene of arms and confusion, beyond the
control of all authority, they have been able, by the influence of
example and exhortation, to restrain so much. Never were more pains
taken to instruct and enlighten mankind, and to make them see that
their interest consisted in their virtue, and not in their revenge,
than have been displayed in the Revolution of France. I now proceed to
make some remarks on Mr. Burke's account of the expedition to
Versailles, October the 5th and 6th.

  I can consider Mr. Burke's book in scarcely any other light than a
dramatic performance; and he must, I think, have considered it in
the same light himself, by the poetical liberties he has taken of
omitting some facts, distorting others, and making the whole machinery
bend to produce a stage effect. Of this kind is his account of the
expedition to Versailles. He begins this account by omitting the
only facts which as causes are known to be true; everything beyond
these is conjecture, even in Paris; and he then works up a tale
accommodated to his own passions and prejudices.

  It is to be observed throughout Mr. Burke's book that he never
speaks of plots against the Revolution; and it is from those plots
that all the mischiefs have arisen. It suits his purpose to exhibit
the consequences without their causes. It is one of the arts of the
drama to do so. If the crimes of men were exhibited with their
sufferings, stage effect would sometimes be lost, and the audience
would be inclined to approve where it was intended they should
commiserate.

  After all the investigations that have been made into this intricate
affair (the expedition to Versailles), it still remains enveloped in
all that kind of mystery which ever accompanies events produced more
from a concurrence of awkward circumstances than from fixed design.
While the characters of men are forming, as is always the case in
revolutions, there is a reciprocal suspicion, and a disposition to
misinterpret each other; and even parties directly opposite in
principle will sometimes concur in pushing forward the same movement
with very different views, and with the hopes of its producing very
different consequences. A great deal of this may be discovered in this
embarrassed affair, and yet the issue of the whole was what nobody had
in view.

  The only things certainly known are that considerable uneasiness was
at this time excited at Paris by the delay of the King in not
sanctioning and forwarding the decrees of the National Assembly,
particularly that of the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and the
decrees of the fourth of August, which contained the foundation
principles on which the constitution was to be erected. The kindest,
and perhaps the fairest conjecture upon this matter is, that some of
the ministers intended to make remarks and observations upon certain
parts of them before they were finally sanctioned and sent to the
provinces; but be this as it may, the enemies of the Revolution
derived hope from the delay, and the friends of the Revolution
uneasiness.

  During this state of suspense, the Garde du Corps, which was
composed as such regiments generally are, of persons much connected
with the Court, gave an entertainment at Versailles (October 1) to
some foreign regiments then arrived; and when the entertainment was at
the height, on a signal given, the Garde du Corps tore the national
cockade from their hats, trampled it under foot, and replaced it
with a counter-cockade prepared for the purpose. An indignity of
this kind amounted to defiance. It was like declaring war; and if
men will give challenges they must expect consequences. But all this
Mr. Burke has carefully kept out of sight. He begins his account by
saying: "History will record that on the morning of the 6th October,
1789, the King and Queen of France, after a day of confusion, alarm,
dismay, and slaughter, lay down under the pledged security of public
faith to indulge nature in a few hours of respite, and troubled
melancholy repose." This is neither the sober style of history, nor
the intention of it. It leaves everything to be guessed at and
mistaken. One would at least think there had been a battle; and a
battle there probably would have been had it not been for the
moderating prudence of those whom Mr. Burke involves in his
censures. By his keeping the Garde du Corps out of sight Mr. Burke has
afforded himself the dramatic licence of putting the King and Queen in
their places, as if the object of the expedition was against them. But
to return to my account-

  This conduct of the Garde du Corps, as might well be expected,
alarmed and enraged the Partisans. The colors of the cause, and the
cause itself, were become too united to mistake the intention of the
insult, and the Partisans were determined to call the Garde du Corps
to an account. There was certainly nothing of the cowardice of
assassination in marching in the face of the day to demand
satisfaction, if such a phrase may be used, of a body of armed men who
had voluntarily given defiance. But the circumstance which serves to
throw this affair into embarrassment is, that the enemies of the
Revolution appear to have encouraged it as well as its friends. The
one hoped to prevent a civil war by checking it in time, and the other
to make one. The hopes of those opposed to the Revolution rested in
making the King of their party, and getting him from Versailles to
Metz, where they expected to collect a force and set up a standard. We
have, therefore, two different objects presenting themselves at the
same time, and to be accomplished by the same means: the one to
chastise the Garde du Corps, which was the object of the Partisans;
the other to render the confusion of such a scene an inducement to the
King to set off for Metz.

  On the 5th of October a very numerous body of women, and men in
the disguise of women, collected around the Hotel de Ville or
town-hall at Paris, and set off for Versailles. Their professed object
was the Garde du Corps; but prudent men readily recollect that
mischief is more easily begun than ended; and this impressed itself
with the more force from the suspicions already stated, and the
irregularity of such a cavalcade. As soon, therefore, as a
sufficient force could be collected, M. de la Fayette, by orders
from the civil authority of Paris, set off after them at the head of
twenty thousand of the Paris militia. The Revolution could derive no
benefit from confusion, and its opposers might. By an amiable and
spirited manner of address he had hitherto been fortunate in calming
disquietudes, and in this he was extraordinarily successful; to
frustrate, therefore, the hopes of those who might seek to improve
this scene into a sort of justifiable necessity for the King's
quitting Versailles and withdrawing to Metz, and to prevent at the
same time the consequences that might ensue between the Garde du Corps
and this phalanx of men and women, he forwarded expresses to the King,
that he was on his march to Versailles, by the orders of the civil
authority of Paris, for the purpose of peace and protection,
expressing at the same time the necessity of restraining the Garde
du Corps from firing upon the people.*[3]

  He arrived at Versailles between ten and eleven at night. The
Garde du Corps was drawn up, and the people had arrived some time
before, but everything had remained suspended. Wisdom and policy now
consisted in changing a scene of danger into a happy event. M. de la
Fayette became the mediator between the enraged parties; and the King,
to remove the uneasiness which had arisen from the delay already
stated, sent for the President of the National Assembly, and signed
the Declaration of the Rights of Man, and such other parts of the
constitution as were in readiness.

  It was now about one in the morning. Everything appeared to be
composed, and a general congratulation took place. By the beat of a
drum a proclamation was made that the citizens of Versailles would
give the hospitality of their houses to their fellow-citizens of
Paris. Those who could not be accommodated in this manner remained
in the streets, or took up their quarters in the churches; and at
two o'clock the King and Queen retired.

  In this state matters passed till the break of day, when a fresh
disturbance arose from the censurable conduct of some of both parties,
for such characters there will be in all such scenes. One of the Garde
du Corps appeared at one of the windows of the palace, and the
people who had remained during the night in the streets accosted him
with reviling and provocative language. Instead of retiring, as in
such a case prudence would have dictated, he presented his musket,
fired, and killed one of the Paris militia. The peace being thus
broken, the people rushed into the palace in quest of the offender.
They attacked the quarters of the Garde du Corps within the palace,
and pursued them throughout the avenues of it, and to the apartments
of the King. On this tumult, not the Queen only, as Mr. Burke has
represented it, but every person in the palace, was awakened and
alarmed; and M. de la Fayette had a second time to interpose between
the parties, the event of which was that the Garde du Corps put on the
national cockade, and the matter ended as by oblivion, after the
loss of two or three lives.

  During the latter part of the time in which this confusion was
acting, the King and Queen were in public at the balcony, and
neither of them concealed for safety's sake, as Mr. Burke
insinuates. Matters being thus appeased, and tranquility restored, a
general acclamation broke forth of Le Roi a Paris- Le Roi a Paris- The
King to Paris. It was the shout of peace, and immediately accepted
on the part of the King. By this measure all future projects of
trapanning the King to Metz, and setting up the standard of opposition
to the constitution, were prevented, and the suspicions
extinguished. The King and his family reached Paris in the evening,
and were congratulated on their arrival by M. Bailly, the Mayor of
Paris, in the name of the citizens. Mr. Burke, who throughout his book
confounds things, persons, and principles, as in his remarks on M.
Bailly's address, confounded time also. He censures M. Bailly for
calling it "un bon jour," a good day. Mr. Burke should have informed
himself that this scene took up the space of two days, the day on
which it began with every appearance of danger and mischief, and the
day on which it terminated without the mischiefs that threatened;
and that it is to this peaceful termination that M. Bailly alludes,
and to the arrival of the King at Paris. Not less than three hundred
thousand persons arranged themselves in the procession from Versailles
to Paris, and not an act of molestation was committed during the whole
march.

  Mr. Burke on the authority of M. Lally Tollendal, a deserter from
the National Assembly, says that on entering Paris, the people shouted
"Tous les eveques a la lanterne." All Bishops to be hanged at the
lanthorn or lamp-posts. It is surprising that nobody could hear this
but Lally Tollendal, and that nobody should believe it but Mr.
Burke. It has not the least connection with any part of the
transaction, and is totally foreign to every circumstance of it. The
Bishops had never been introduced before into any scene of Mr. Burke's
drama: why then are they, all at once, and altogether, tout a coup, et
tous ensemble, introduced now? Mr. Burke brings forward his Bishops
and his lanthorn-like figures in a magic lanthorn, and raises his
scenes by contrast instead of connection. But it serves to show,
with the rest of his book what little credit ought to be given where
even probability is set at defiance, for the purpose of defaming;
and with this reflection, instead of a soliloquy in praise of
chivalry, as Mr. Burke has done, I close the account of the expedition
to Versailles.*[4]

  I have now to follow Mr. Burke through a pathless wilderness of
rhapsodies, and a sort of descant upon governments, in which he
asserts whatever he pleases, on the presumption of its being believed,
without offering either evidence or reasons for so doing.

  Before anything can be reasoned upon to a conclusion, certain facts,
principles, or data, to reason from, must be established, admitted, or
denied. Mr. Burke with his usual outrage, abused the Declaration of
the Rights of Man, published by the National Assembly of France, as
the basis on which the constitution of France is built. This he
calls "paltry and blurred sheets of paper about the rights of man."
Does Mr. Burke mean to deny that man has any rights? If he does,
then he must mean that there are no such things as rights anywhere,
and that he has none himself; for who is there in the world but man?
But if Mr. Burke means to admit that man has rights, the question then
will be: What are those rights, and how man came by them originally?

  The error of those who reason by precedents drawn from antiquity,
respecting the rights of man, is that they do not go far enough into
antiquity. They do not go the whole way. They stop in some of the
intermediate stages of an hundred or a thousand years, and produce
what was then done, as a rule for the present day. This is no
authority at all. If we travel still farther into antiquity, we
shall find a direct contrary opinion and practice prevailing; and if
antiquity is to be authority, a thousand such authorities may be
produced, successively contradicting each other; but if we proceed on,
we shall at last come out right; we shall come to the time when man
came from the hand of his Maker. What was he then? Man. Man was his
high and only title, and a higher cannot be given him. But of titles I
shall speak hereafter.

  We are now got at the origin of man, and at the origin of his
rights. As to the manner in which the world has been governed from
that day to this, it is no farther any concern of ours than to make
a proper use of the errors or the improvements which the history of it
presents. Those who lived an hundred or a thousand years ago, were
then moderns, as we are now. They had their ancients, and those
ancients had others, and we also shall be ancients in our turn. If the
mere name of antiquity is to govern in the affairs of life, the people
who are to live an hundred or a thousand years hence, may as well take
us for a precedent, as we make a precedent of those who lived an
hundred or a thousand years ago. The fact is, that portions of
antiquity, by proving everything, establish nothing. It is authority
against authority all the way, till we come to the divine origin of
the rights of man at the creation. Here our enquiries find a
resting-place, and our reason finds a home. If a dispute about the
rights of man had arisen at the distance of an hundred years from
the creation, it is to this source of authority they must have
referred, and it is to this same source of authority that we must
now refer.

  Though I mean not to touch upon any sectarian principle of religion,
yet it may be worth observing, that the genealogy of Christ is
traced to Adam. Why then not trace the rights of man to the creation
of man? I will answer the question. Because there have been upstart
governments, thrusting themselves between, and presumptuously
working to un-make man.

  If any generation of men ever possessed the right of dictating the
mode by which the world should be governed for ever, it was the
first generation that existed; and if that generation did it not, no
succeeding generation can show any authority for doing it, nor can set
any up. The illuminating and divine principle of the equal rights of
man (for it has its origin from the Maker of man) relates, not only to
the living individuals, but to generations of men succeeding each
other. Every generation is equal in rights to generations which
preceded it, by the same rule that every individual is born equal in
rights with his contemporary.

  Every history of the creation, and every traditionary account,
whether from the lettered or unlettered world, however they may vary
in their opinion or belief of certain particulars, all agree in
establishing one point, the unity of man; by which I mean that men are
all of one degree, and consequently that all men are born equal, and
with equal natural right, in the same manner as if posterity had
been continued by creation instead of generation, the latter being the
only mode by which the former is carried forward; and consequently
every child born into the world must be considered as deriving its
existence from God. The world is as new to him as it was to the
first man that existed, and his natural right in it is of the same
kind.

  The Mosaic account of the creation, whether taken as divine
authority or merely historical, is full to this point, the unity or
equality of man. The expression admits of no controversy. "And God
said, Let us make man in our own image. In the image of God created he
him; male and female created he them." The distinction of sexes is
pointed out, but no other distinction is even implied. If this be
not divine authority, it is at least historical authority, and shows
that the equality of man, so far from being a modern doctrine, is
the oldest upon record.

  It is also to be observed that all the religions known in the
world are founded, so far as they relate to man, on the unity of
man, as being all of one degree. Whether in heaven or in hell, or in
whatever state man may be supposed to exist hereafter, the good and
the bad are the only distinctions. Nay, even the laws of governments
are obliged to slide into this principle, by making degrees to consist
in crimes and not in persons.

  It is one of the greatest of all truths, and of the highest
advantage to cultivate. By considering man in this light, and by
instructing him to consider himself in this light, it places him in
a close connection with all his duties, whether to his Creator or to
the creation, of which he is a part; and it is only when he forgets
his origin, or, to use a more fashionable phrase, his birth and
family, that he becomes dissolute. It is not among the least of the
evils of the present existing governments in all parts of Europe
that man, considered as man, is thrown back to a vast distance from
his Maker, and the artificial chasm filled up with a succession of
barriers, or sort of turnpike gates, through which he has to pass. I
will quote Mr. Burke's catalogue of barriers that he has set up
between man and his Maker. Putting himself in the character of a
herald, he says: "We fear God- we look with awe to kings- with
affection to Parliaments with duty to magistrates- with reverence to
priests, and with respect to nobility." Mr. Burke has forgotten to put
in "'chivalry." He has also forgotten to put in Peter.

  The duty of man is not a wilderness of turnpike gates, through which
he is to pass by tickets from one to the other. It is plain and
simple, and consists but of two points. His duty to God, which every
man must feel; and with respect to his neighbor, to do as he would
be done by. If those to whom power is delegated do well, they will
be respected: if not, they will be despised; and with regard to
those to whom no power is delegated, but who assume it, the rational
world can know nothing of them.

  Hitherto we have spoken only (and that but in part) of the natural
rights of man. We have now to consider the civil rights of man, and to
show how the one originates from the other. Man did not enter into
society to become worse than he was before, nor to have fewer rights
than he had before, but to have those rights better secured. His
natural rights are the foundation of all his civil rights. But in
order to pursue this distinction with more precision, it will be
necessary to mark the different qualities of natural and civil rights.

  A few words will explain this. Natural rights are those which
appertain to man in right of his existence. Of this kind are all the
intellectual rights, or rights of the mind, and also all those
rights of acting as an individual for his own comfort and happiness,
which are not injurious to the natural rights of others. Civil
rights are those which appertain to man in right of his being a member
of society. Every civil right has for its foundation some natural
right pre-existing in the individual, but to the enjoyment of which
his individual power is not, in all cases, sufficiently competent.
Of this kind are all those which relate to security and protection.

  From this short review it will be easy to distinguish between that
class of natural rights which man retains after entering into
society and those which he throws into the common stock as a member of
society.

  The natural rights which he retains are all those in which the Power
to execute is as perfect in the individual as the right itself.
Among this class, as is before mentioned, are all the intellectual
rights, or rights of the mind; consequently religion is one of those
rights. The natural rights which are not retained, are all those in
which, though the right is perfect in the individual, the power to
execute them is defective. They answer not his purpose. A man, by
natural right, has a right to judge in his own cause; and so far as
the right of the mind is concerned, he never surrenders it. But what
availeth it him to judge, if he has not power to redress? He therefore
deposits this right in the common stock of society, and takes the
ann of society, of which he is a part, in preference and in addition
to his own. Society grants him nothing. Every man is a proprietor in
society, and draws on the capital as a matter of right.

  From these premisses two or three certain conclusions will follow:

  First, That every civil right grows out of a natural right; or, in
other words, is a natural right exchanged.

  Secondly, That civil power properly considered as such is made up of
the aggregate of that class of the natural rights of man, which
becomes defective in the individual in point of power, and answers not
his purpose, but when collected to a focus becomes competent to the
Purpose of every one.

  Thirdly, That the power produced from the aggregate of natural
rights, imperfect in power in the individual, cannot be applied to
invade the natural rights which are retained in the individual, and in
which the power to execute is as perfect as the right itself.

  We have now, in a few words, traced man from a natural individual to
a member of society, and shown, or endeavoured to show, the quality of
the natural rights retained, and of those which are exchanged for
civil rights. Let us now apply these principles to governments.

  In casting our eyes over the world, it is extremely easy to
distinguish the governments which have arisen out of society, or out
of the social compact, from those which have not; but to place this in
a clearer light than what a single glance may afford, it will be
proper to take a review of the several sources from which
governments have arisen and on which they have been founded.

  They may be all comprehended under three heads.

  First, Superstition.

  Secondly, Power.

  Thirdly, The common interest of society and the common rights of
man.

  The first was a government of priestcraft, the second of conquerors,
and the third of reason.

  When a set of artful men pretended, through the medium of oracles,
to hold intercourse with the Deity, as familiarly as they now march up
the back-stairs in European courts, the world was completely under the
government of superstition. The oracles were consulted, and whatever
they were made to say became the law; and this sort of government
lasted as long as this sort of superstition lasted.

  After these a race of conquerors arose, whose government, like
that of William the Conqueror, was founded in power, and the sword
assumed the name of a sceptre. Governments thus established last as
long as the power to support them lasts; but that they might avail
themselves of every engine in their favor, they united fraud to force,
and set up an idol which they called Divine Right, and which, in
imitation of the Pope, who affects to be spiritual and temporal, and
in contradiction to the Founder of the Christian religion, twisted
itself afterwards into an idol of another shape, called Church and
State. The key of St. Peter and the key of the Treasury became
quartered on one another, and the wondering cheated multitude
worshipped the invention.

  When I contemplate the natural dignity of man, when I feel (for
Nature has not been kind enough to me to blunt my feelings) for the
honour and happiness of its character, I become irritated at the
attempt to govern mankind by force and fraud, as if they were all
knaves and fools, and can scarcely avoid disgust at those who are thus
imposed upon.

  We have now to review the governments which arise out of society, in
contradistinction to those which arose out of superstition and
conquest.

  It has been thought a considerable advance towards establishing
the principles of Freedom to say that Government is a compact
between those who govern and those who are governed; but this cannot
be true, because it is putting the effect before the cause; for as man
must have existed before governments existed, there necessarily was
a time when governments did not exist, and consequently there could
originally exist no governors to form such a compact with.

  The fact therefore must be that the individuals themselves, each
in his own personal and sovereign right, entered into a compact with
each other to produce a government: and this is the only mode in which
governments have a right to arise, and the only principle on which
they have a right to exist.

  To possess ourselves of a clear idea of what government is, or ought
to be, we must trace it to its origin. In doing this we shall easily
discover that governments must have arisen either out of the people or
over the people. Mr. Burke has made no distinction. He investigates
nothing to its source, and therefore he confounds everything; but he
has signified his intention of undertaking, at some future
opportunity, a comparison between the constitution of England and
France. As he thus renders it a subject of controversy by throwing the
gauntlet, I take him upon his own ground. It is in high challenges
that high truths have the right of appearing; and I accept it with the
more readiness because it affords me, at the same time, an opportunity
of pursuing the subject with respect to governments arising out of
society.

  But it will be first necessary to define what is meant by a
Constitution. It is not sufficient that we adopt the word; we must fix
also a standard signification to it.

  A constitution is not a thing in name only, but in fact. It has
not an ideal, but a real existence; and wherever it cannot be produced
in a visible form, there is none. A constitution is a thing antecedent
to a government, and a government is only the creature of a
constitution. The constitution of a country is not the act of its
government, but of the people constituting its government. It is the
body of elements, to which you can refer, and quote article by
article; and which contains the principles on which the government
shall be established, the manner in which it shall be organised, the
powers it shall have, the mode of elections, the duration of
Parliaments, or by what other name such bodies may be called; the
powers which the executive part of the government shall have; and in
fine, everything that relates to the complete organisation of a
civil government, and the principles on which it shall act, and by
which it shall be bound. A constitution, therefore, is to a government
what the laws made afterwards by that government are to a court of
judicature. The court of judicature does not make the laws, neither
can it alter them; it only acts in conformity to the laws made: and
the government is in like manner governed by the constitution.

  Can, then, Mr. Burke produce the English Constitution? If he cannot,
we may fairly conclude that though it has been so much talked about,
no such thing as a constitution exists, or ever did exist, and
consequently that the people have yet a constitution to form.

  Mr. Burke will not, I presume, deny the position I have already
advanced- namely, that governments arise either out of the people or
over the people. The English Government is one of those which arose
out of a conquest, and not out of society, and consequently it arose
over the people; and though it has been much modified from the
opportunity of circumstances since the time of William the
Conqueror, the country has never yet regenerated itself, and is
therefore without a constitution.

  I readily perceive the reason why Mr. Burke declined going into
the comparison between the English and French constitutions, because
he could not but perceive, when he sat down to the task, that no
such a thing as a constitution existed on his side the question. His
book is certainly bulky enough to have contained all he could say on
this subject, and it would have been the best manner in which people
could have judged of their separate merits. Why then has he declined
the only thing that was worth while to write upon? It was the
strongest ground he could take, if the advantages were on his side,
but the weakest if they were not; and his declining to take it is
either a sign that he could not possess it or could not maintain it.

  Mr. Burke said, in a speech last winter in Parliament, "that when
the National Assembly first met in three Orders (the Tiers Etat, the
Clergy, and the Noblesse), France had then a good constitution."
This shows, among numerous other instances, that Mr. Burke does not
understand what a constitution is. The persons so met were not a
constitution, but a convention, to make a constitution.

  The present National Assembly of France is, strictly speaking, the
personal social compact. The members of it are the delegates of the
nation in its original character; future assemblies will be the
delegates of the nation in its organised character. The authority of
the present Assembly is different from what the authority of future
Assemblies will be. The authority of the present one is to form a
constitution; the authority of future assemblies will be to
legislate according to the principles and forms prescribed in that
constitution; and if experience should hereafter show that
alterations, amendments, or additions are necessary, the
constitution will point out the mode by which such things shall be
done, and not leave it to the discretionary power of the future
government.

  A government on the principles on which constitutional governments
arising out of society are established, cannot have the right of
altering itself. If it had, it would be arbitrary. It might make
itself what it pleased; and wherever such a right is set up, it
shows there is no constitution. The act by which the English
Parliament empowered itself to sit seven years, shows there is no
constitution in England. It might, by the same self-authority, have
sat any great number of years, or for life. The bill which the present
Mr. Pitt brought into Parliament some years ago, to reform Parliament,
was on the same erroneous principle. The right of reform is in the
nation in its original character, and the constitutional method
would be by a general convention elected for the purpose. There is,
moreover, a paradox in the idea of vitiated bodies reforming
themselves.

  From these preliminaries I proceed to draw some comparisons. I
have already spoken of the declaration of rights; and as I mean to
be as concise as possible, I shall proceed to other parts of the
French Constitution.

  The constitution of France says that every man who pays a tax of
sixty sous per annum (2s. 6d. English) is an elector. What article
will Mr. Burke place against this? Can anything be more limited, and
at the same time more capricious, than the qualification of electors
is in England? Limited- because not one man in an hundred (I speak
much within compass) is admitted to vote. Capricious- because the
lowest character that can be supposed to exist, and who has not so
much as the visible means of an honest livelihood, is an elector in
some places: while in other places, the man who pays very large taxes,
and has a known fair character, and the farmer who rents to the amount
of three or four hundred pounds a year, with a property on that farm
to three or four times that amount, is not admitted to be an
elector. Everything is out of nature, as Mr. Burke says on another
occasion, in this strange chaos, and all sorts of follies are
blended with all sorts of crimes. William the Conqueror and his
descendants parcelled out the country in this manner, and bribed
some parts of it by what they call charters to hold the other parts of
it the better subjected to their will. This is the reason why so
many of those charters abound in Cornwall; the people were averse to
the Government established at the Conquest, and the towns were
garrisoned and bribed to enslave the country. All the old charters are
the badges of this conquest, and it is from this source that the
capriciousness of election arises.

  The French Constitution says that the number of representatives
for any place shall be in a ratio to the number of taxable inhabitants
or electors. What article will Mr. Burke place against this? The
county of York, which contains nearly a million of souls, sends two
county members; and so does the county of Rutland, which contains
not an hundredth part of that number. The old town of Sarum, which
contains not three houses, sends two members; and the town of
Manchester, which contains upward of sixty thousand souls, is not
admitted to send any. Is there any principle in these things? It is
admitted that all this is altered, but there is much to be done yet,
before we have a fair representation of the people. Is there
anything by which you can trace the marks of freedom, or discover
those of wisdom? No wonder then Mr. Burke has declined the comparison,
and endeavored to lead his readers from the point by a wild,
unsystematical display of paradoxical rhapsodies.

  The French Constitution says that the National Assembly shall be
elected every two years. What article will Mr. Burke place against
this? Why, that the nation has no right at all in the case; that the
government is perfectly arbitrary with respect to this point; and he
can quote for his authority the precedent of a former Parliament.

  The French Constitution says there shall be no game laws, that the
farmer on whose lands wild game shall be found (for it is by the
produce of his lands they are fed) shall have a right to what he can
take; that there shall be no monopolies of any kind- that all trades
shall be free and every man free to follow any occupation by which
he can procure an honest livelihood, and in any place, town, or city
throughout the nation. What will Mr. Burke say to this? In England,
game is made the property of those at whose expense it is not fed; and
with respect to monopolies, the country is cut up into monopolies.
Every chartered town is an aristocratical monopoly in itself, and
the qualification of electors proceeds out of those chartered
monopolies. Is this freedom? Is this what Mr. Burke means by a
constitution?

  In these chartered monopolies, a man coming from another part of the
country is hunted from them as if he were a foreign enemy. An
Englishman is not free of his own country; every one of those places
presents a barrier in his way, and tells him he is not a freeman- that
he has no rights. Within these monopolies are other monopolies. In a
city, such for instance as Bath, which contains between twenty and
thirty thousand inhabitants, the right of electing representatives
to Parliament is monopolised by about thirty-one persons. And within
these monopolies are still others. A man even of the same town,
whose parents were not in circumstances to give him an occupation,
is debarred, in many cases, from the natural right of acquiring one,
be his genius or industry what it may.

  Are these things examples to hold out to a country regenerating
itself from slavery, like France? Certainly they are not, and
certain am I, that when the people of England come to reflect upon
them they will, like France, annihilate those badges of ancient
oppression, those traces of a conquered nation. Had Mr. Burke
possessed talents similar to the author of "On the Wealth of Nations."
he would have comprehended all the parts which enter into, and, by
assemblage, form a constitution. He would have reasoned from
minutiae to magnitude. It is not from his prejudices only, but from
the disorderly cast of his genius, that he is unfitted for the subject
he writes upon. Even his genius is without a constitution. It is a
genius at random, and not a genius constituted. But he must say
something. He has therefore mounted in the air like a balloon, to draw
the eyes of the multitude from the ground they stand upon.

  Much is to be learned from the French Constitution. Conquest and
tyranny transplanted themselves with William the Conqueror from
Normandy into England, and the country is yet disfigured with the
marks. May, then, the example of all France contribute to regenerate
the freedom which a province of it destroyed!

  The French Constitution says that to preserve the national
representation from being corrupt, no member of the National
Assembly shall be an officer of the government, a placeman or a
pensioner. What will Mr. Burke place against this? I will whisper
his answer: Loaves and Fishes. Ah! this government of loaves and
fishes has more mischief in it than people have yet reflected on.
The National Assembly has made the discovery, and it holds out the
example to the world. Had governments agreed to quarrel on purpose
to fleece their countries by taxes, they could not have succeeded
better than they have done.

  Everything in the English government appears to me the reverse of
what it ought to be, and of what it is said to be. The Parliament,
imperfectly and capriciously elected as it is, is nevertheless
supposed to hold the national purse in trust for the nation; but in
the manner in which an English Parliament is constructed it is like
a man being both mortgagor and mortgagee, and in the case of
misapplication of trust it is the criminal sitting in judgment upon
himself. If those who vote the supplies are the same persons who
receive the supplies when voted, and are to account for the
expenditure of those supplies to those who voted them, it is
themselves accountable to themselves, and the Comedy of Errors
concludes with the pantomime of Hush. Neither the Ministerial party
nor the Opposition will touch upon this case. The national purse is
the common hack which each mounts upon. It is like what the country
people call "Ride and tie- you ride a little way, and then I."*[5]
They order these things better in France.

  The French Constitution says that the right of war and peace is in
the nation. Where else should it reside but in those who are to pay
the expense?

  In England this right is said to reside in a metaphor shown at the
Tower for sixpence or a shilling a piece: so are the lions; and it
would be a step nearer to reason to say it resided in them, for any
inanimate metaphor is no more than a hat or a cap. We can all see
the absurdity of worshipping Aaron's molten calf, or
Nebuchadnezzar's golden image; but why do men continue to practise
themselves the absurdities they despise in others?

  It may with reason be said that in the manner the English nation
is represented it signifies not where the right resides, whether in
the Crown or in the Parliament. War is the common harvest of all those
who participate in the division and expenditure of public money, in
all countries. It is the art of conquering at home; the object of it
is an increase of revenue; and as revenue cannot be increased
without taxes, a pretence must be made for expenditure. In reviewing
the history of the English Government, its wars and its taxes, a
bystander, not blinded by prejudice nor warped by interest, would
declare that taxes were not raised to carry on wars, but that wars
were raised to carry on taxes.

  Mr. Burke, as a member of the House of Commons, is a part of the
English Government; and though he professes himself an enemy to war,
he abuses the French Constitution, which seeks to explode it. He holds
up the English Government as a model, in all its parts, to France; but
he should first know the remarks which the French make upon it. They
contend in favor of their own, that the portion of liberty enjoyed
in England is just enough to enslave a country more productively
than by despotism, and that as the real object of all despotism is
revenue, a government so formed obtains more than it could do either
by direct despotism, or in a full state of freedom, and is,
therefore on the ground of interest, opposed to both. They account
also for the readiness which always appears in such governments for
engaging in wars by remarking on the different motives which
produced them. In despotic governments wars are the effect of pride;
but in those governments in which they become the means of taxation,
they acquire thereby a more permanent promptitude.

  The French Constitution, therefore, to provide against both these
evils, has taken away the power of declaring war from kings and
ministers, and placed the right where the expense must fall.

  When the question of the right of war and peace was agitating in the
National Assembly, the people of England appeared to be much
interested in the event, and highly to applaud the decision. As a
principle it applies as much to one country as another. William the
Conqueror, as a conqueror, held this power of war and peace in
himself, and his descendants have ever since claimed it under him as a
right.

  Although Mr. Burke has asserted the right of the Parliament at the
Revolution to bind and control the nation and posterity for ever, he
denies at the same time that the Parliament or the nation had any
right to alter what he calls the succession of the crown in anything
but in part, or by a sort of modification. By his taking this ground
he throws the case back to the Norman Conquest, and by thus running
a line of succession springing from William the Conqueror to the
present day, he makes it necessary to enquire who and what William the
Conqueror was, and where he came from, and into the origin, history
and nature of what are called prerogatives. Everything must have had a
beginning, and the fog of time and antiquity should be penetrated to
discover it. Let, then, Mr. Burke bring forward his William of
Normandy, for it is to this origin that his argument goes. It also
unfortunately happens, in running this line of succession, that
another line parallel thereto presents itself, which is that if the
succession runs in the line of the conquest, the nation runs in the
line of being conquered, and it ought to rescue itself from this
reproach.

  But it will perhaps be said that though the power of declaring war
descends in the heritage of the conquest, it is held in check by the
right of Parliament to withhold the supplies. It will always happen
when a thing is originally wrong that amendments do not make it right,
and it often happens that they do as much mischief one way as good the
other, and such is the case here, for if the one rashly declares war
as a matter of right, and the other peremptorily withholds the
supplies as a matter of right, the remedy becomes as bad, or worse,
than the disease. The one forces the nation to a combat, and the other
ties its hands; but the more probable issue is that the contest will
end in a collusion between the parties, and be made a screen to both.

  On this question of war, three things are to be considered. First,
the right of declaring it: secondly, the right of declaring it:
secondly, the expense of supporting it: thirdly, the mode of
conducting it after it is declared. The French Constitution places the
right where the expense must fall, and this union can only be in the
nation. The mode of conducting it after it is declared, it consigns to
the executive department. Were this the case in all countries, we
should hear but little more of wars.

  Before I proceed to consider other parts of the French Constitution,
and by way of relieving the fatigue of argument, I will introduce an
anecdote which I had from Dr. Franklin.

  While the Doctor resided in France as Minister from America,
during the war, he had numerous proposals made to him by projectors of
every country and of every kind, who wished to go to the land that
floweth with milk and honey, America; and among the rest, there was
one who offered himself to be king. He introduced his proposal to
the Doctor by letter, which is now in the hands of M. Beaumarchais, of
Paris- stating, first, that as the Americans had dismissed or sent
away*[6] their King, that they would want another. Secondly, that
himself was a Norman. Thirdly, that he was of a more ancient family
than the Dukes of Normandy, and of a more honorable descent, his
line having never been bastardised. Fourthly, that there was already a
precedent in England of kings coming out of Normandy, and on these
grounds he rested his offer, enjoining that the Doctor would forward
it to America. But as the Doctor neither did this, nor yet sent him an
answer, the projector wrote a second letter, in which he did not, it
is true, threaten to go over and conquer America, but only with
great dignity proposed that if his offer was not accepted, an
acknowledgment of about L30,000 might be made to him for his
generosity! Now, as all arguments respecting succession must
necessarily connect that succession with some beginning, Mr. Burke's
arguments on this subject go to show that there is no English origin
of kings, and that they are descendants of the Norman line in right of
the Conquest. It may, therefore, be of service to his doctrine to make
this story known, and to inform him, that in case of that natural
extinction to which all mortality is subject, Kings may again be had
from Normandy, on more reasonable terms than William the Conqueror;
and consequently, that the good people of England, at the revolution
of 1688, might have done much better, had such a generous Norman as
this known their wants, and they had known his. The chivalric
character which Mr. Burke so much admires, is certainly much easier to
make a bargain with than a hard dealing Dutchman. But to return to the
matters of the constitution-

  The French Constitution says, There shall be no titles; and, of
consequence, all that class of equivocal generation which in some
countries is called "aristocracy" and in others "nobility," is done
away, and the peer is exalted into the MAN.

  Titles are but nicknames, and every nickname is a title. The thing
is perfectly harmless in itself, but it marks a sort of foppery in the
human character, which degrades it. It reduces man into the diminutive
of man in things which are great, and the counterfeit of women in
things which are little. It talks about its fine blue ribbon like a
girl, and shows its new garter like a child. A certain writer, of some
antiquity, says: "When I was a child, I thought as a child; but when I
became a man, I put away childish things."

  It is, properly, from the elevated mind of France that the folly
of titles has fallen. It has outgrown the baby clothes of Count and
Duke, and breeched itself in manhood. France has not levelled, it
has exalted. It has put down the dwarf, to set up the man. The punyism
of a senseless word like Duke, Count or Earl has ceased to please.
Even those who possessed them have disowned the gibberish, and as they
outgrew the rickets, have despised the rattle. The genuine mind of
man, thirsting for its native home, society, contemns the gewgaws that
separate him from it. Titles are like circles drawn by the
magician's wand, to contract the sphere of man's felicity. He lives
immured within the Bastille of a word, and surveys at a distance the
envied life of man.

  Is it, then, any wonder that titles should fall in France? Is it not
a greater wonder that they should be kept up anywhere? What are
they? What is their worth, and "what is their amount?" When we think
or speak of a Judge or a General, we associate with it the ideas of
office and character; we think of gravity in one and bravery in the
other; but when we use the word merely as a title, no ideas
associate with it. Through all the vocabulary of Adam there is not
such an animal as a Duke or a Count; neither can we connect any
certain ideas with the words. Whether they mean strength or
weakness, wisdom or folly, a child or a man, or the rider or the
horse, is all equivocal. What respect then can be paid to that which
describes nothing, and which means nothing? Imagination has given
figure and character to centaurs, satyrs, and down to all the fairy
tribe; but titles baffle even the powers of fancy, and are a
chimerical nondescript.

  But this is not all. If a whole country is disposed to hold them
in contempt, all their value is gone, and none will own them. It is
common opinion only that makes them anything, or nothing, or worse
than nothing. There is no occasion to take titles away, for they
take themselves away when society concurs to ridicule them. This
species of imaginary consequence has visibly declined in every part of
Europe, and it hastens to its exit as the world of reason continues to
rise. There was a time when the lowest class of what are called
nobility was more thought of than the highest is now, and when a man
in armour riding throughout Christendom in quest of adventures was
more stared at than a modern Duke. The world has seen this folly fall,
and it has fallen by being laughed at, and the farce of titles will
follow its fate. The patriots of France have discovered in good time
that rank and dignity in society must take a new ground. The old one
has fallen through. It must now take the substantial ground of
character, instead of the chimerical ground of titles; and they have
brought their titles to the altar, and made of them a burnt-offering
to Reason.

  If no mischief had annexed itself to the folly of titles they
would not have been worth a serious and formal destruction, such as
the National Assembly have decreed them; and this makes it necessary
to enquire farther into the nature and character of aristocracy.

  That, then, which is called aristocracy in some countries and
nobility in others arose out of the governments founded upon conquest.
It was originally a military order for the purpose of supporting
military government (for such were all governments founded in
conquest); and to keep up a succession of this order for the purpose
for which it was established, all the younger branches of those
families were disinherited and the law of primogenitureship set up.

  The nature and character of aristocracy shows itself to us in this
law. It is the law against every other law of nature, and Nature
herself calls for its destruction. Establish family justice, and
aristocracy falls. By the aristocratical law of primogenitureship,
in a family of six children five are exposed. Aristocracy has never
more than one child. The rest are begotten to be devoured. They are
thrown to the cannibal for prey, and the natural parent prepares the
unnatural repast.

  As everything which is out of nature in man affects, more or less,
the interest of society, so does this. All the children which the
aristocracy disowns (which are all except the eldest) are, in general,
cast like orphans on a parish, to be provided for by the public, but
at a greater charge. Unnecessary offices and places in governments and
courts are created at the expense of the public to maintain them.

  With what kind of parental reflections can the father or mother
contemplate their younger offspring? By nature they are children,
and by marriage they are heirs; but by aristocracy they are bastards
and orphans. They are the flesh and blood of their parents in the
one line, and nothing akin to them in the other. To restore,
therefore, parents to their children, and children to their parents-
relations to each other, and man to society- and to exterminate the
monster aristocracy, root and branch- the French Constitution has
destroyed the law of PRIMOGENITURESHIP. Here then lies the monster;
and Mr. Burke, if he pleases, may write its epitaph.

  Hitherto we have considered aristocracy chiefly in one point of
view. We have now to consider it in another. But whether we view it
before or behind, or sideways, or any way else, domestically or
publicly, it is still a monster.

  In France aristocracy had one feature less in its countenance than
what it has in some other countries. It did not compose a body of
hereditary legislators. It was not "'a corporation of aristocracy, for
such I have heard M. de la Fayette describe an English House of Peers.
Let us then examine the grounds upon which the French Constitution has
resolved against having such a House in France.

  Because, in the first place, as is already mentioned, aristocracy is
kept up by family tyranny and injustice.

  Secondly. Because there is an unnatural unfitness in an
aristocracy to be legislators for a nation. Their ideas of
distributive justice are corrupted at the very source. They begin life
by trampling on all their younger brothers and sisters, and
relations of every kind, and are taught and educated so to do. With
what ideas of justice or honour can that man enter a house of
legislation, who absorbs in his own person the inheritance of a
whole family of children or doles out to them some pitiful portion
with the insolence of a gift?

  Thirdly. Because the idea of hereditary legislators is as
inconsistent as that of hereditary judges, or hereditary juries; and
as absurd as an hereditary mathematician, or an hereditary wise man;
and as ridiculous as an hereditary poet laureate.

  Fourthly. Because a body of men, holding themselves accountable to
nobody, ought not to be trusted by anybody.

  Fifthly. Because it is continuing the uncivilised principle of
governments founded in conquest, and the base idea of man having
property in man, and governing him by personal right.

  Sixthly. Because aristocracy has a tendency to deteriorate the human
species. By the universal economy of nature it is known, and by the
instance of the Jews it is proved, that the human species has a
tendency to degenerate, in any small number of persons, when separated
from the general stock of society, and inter-marrying constantly
with each other. It defeats even its pretended end, and becomes in
time the opposite of what is noble in man. Mr. Burke talks of
nobility; let him show what it is. The greatest characters the world
have known have arisen on the democratic floor. Aristocracy has not
been able to keep a proportionate pace with democracy. The
artificial NOBLE shrinks into a dwarf before the NOBLE of Nature;
and in the few instances of those (for there are some in all
countries) in whom nature, as by a miracle, has survived in
aristocracy, THOSE MEN DESPISE IT.- But it is time to proceed to a new
subject.

  The French Constitution has reformed the condition of the clergy. It
has raised the income of the lower and middle classes, and taken
from the higher. None are now less than twelve hundred livres (fifty
pounds sterling), nor any higher than two or three thousand pounds.
What will Mr. Burke place against this? Hear what he says.

  He says: "That the people of England can see without pain or
grudging, an archbishop precede a duke; they can see a Bishop of
Durham, or a Bishop of Winchester in possession of L10,000 a-year; and
cannot see why it is in worse hands than estates to a like amount,
in the hands of this earl or that squire." And Mr. Burke offers this
as an example to France.

  As to the first part, whether the archbishop precedes the duke, or
the duke the bishop, it is, I believe, to the people in general,
somewhat like Sternhold and Hopkins, or Hopkins and Sternhold; you may
put which you please first; and as I confess that I do not
understand the merits of this case, I will not contest it with Mr.
Burke.

  But with respect to the latter, I have something to say. Mr. Burke
has not put the case right. The comparison is out of order, by being
put between the bishop and the earl or the squire. It ought to be
put between the bishop and the curate, and then it will stand thus:-
"The people of England can see without pain or grudging, a Bishop of
Durham, or a Bishop of Winchester, in possession of ten thousand
pounds a-year, and a curate on thirty or forty pounds a-year, or
less." No, sir, they certainly do not see those things without great
pain or grudging. It is a case that applies itself to every man's
sense of justice, and is one among many that calls aloud for a
constitution.

  In France the cry of "the church! the church!" was repeated as often
as in Mr. Burke's book, and as loudly as when the Dissenters' Bill was
before the English Parliament; but the generality of the French clergy
were not to be deceived by this cry any longer. They knew that
whatever the pretence might be, it was they who were one of the
principal objects of it. It was the cry of the high beneficed
clergy, to prevent any regulation of income taking place between those
of ten thousand pounds a-year and the parish priest. They therefore
joined their case to those of every other oppressed class of men,
and by this union obtained redress.

  The French Constitution has abolished tythes, that source of
perpetual discontent between the tythe-holder and the parishioner.
When land is held on tythe, it is in the condition of an estate held
between two parties; the one receiving one-tenth, and the other
nine-tenths of the produce: and consequently, on principles of equity,
if the estate can be improved, and made to produce by that improvement
double or treble what it did before, or in any other ratio, the
expense of such improvement ought to be borne in like proportion
between the parties who are to share the produce. But this is not
the case in tythes: the farmer bears the whole expense, and the
tythe-holder takes a tenth of the improvement, in addition to the
original tenth, and by this means gets the value of two-tenths instead
of one. This is another case that calls for a constitution.

  The French Constitution hath abolished or renounced Toleration and
Intolerance also, and hath established UNIVERSAL RIGHT OF CONSCIENCE.

  Toleration is not the opposite of Intolerance, but is the
counterfeit of it. Both are despotisms. The one assumes to itself
the right of withholding Liberty of Conscience, and the other of
granting it. The one is the Pope armed with fire and faggot, and the
other is the Pope selling or granting indulgences. The former is
church and state, and the latter is church and traffic.

  But Toleration may be viewed in a much stronger light. Man
worships not himself, but his Maker; and the liberty of conscience
which he claims is not for the service of himself, but of his God.
In this case, therefore, we must necessarily have the associated
idea of two things; the mortal who renders the worship, and the
IMMORTAL BEING who is worshipped. Toleration, therefore, places
itself, not between man and man, nor between church and church, nor
between one denomination of religion and another, but between God
and man; between the being who worships, and the BEING who is
worshipped; and by the same act of assumed authority which it
tolerates man to pay his worship, it presumptuously and
blasphemously sets itself up to tolerate the Almighty to receive it.

  Were a bill brought into any Parliament, entitled, "An Act to
tolerate or grant liberty to the Almighty to receive the worship of
a Jew or Turk," or "to prohibit the Almighty from receiving it," all
men would startle and call it blasphemy. There would be an uproar. The
presumption of toleration in religious matters would then present
itself unmasked; but the presumption is not the less because the
name of "Man" only appears to those laws, for the associated idea of
the worshipper and the worshipped cannot be separated. Who then art
thou, vain dust and ashes! by whatever name thou art called, whether a
King, a Bishop, a Church, or a State, a Parliament, or anything
else, that obtrudest thine insignificance between the soul of man
and its Maker? Mind thine own concerns. If he believes not as thou
believest, it is a proof that thou believest not as he believes, and
there is no earthly power can determine between you.

  With respect to what are called denominations of religion, if
every one is left to judge of its own religion, there is no such thing
as a religion that is wrong; but if they are to judge of each
other's religion, there is no such thing as a religion that is
right; and therefore all the world is right, or all the world is
wrong. But with respect to religion itself, without regard to names,
and as directing itself from the universal family of mankind to the
Divine object of all adoration, it is man bringing to his Maker the
fruits of his heart; and though those fruits may differ from each
other like the fruits of the earth, the grateful tribute of every
one is accepted.

  A Bishop of Durham, or a Bishop of Winchester, or the archbishop who
heads the dukes, will not refuse a tythe-sheaf of wheat because it
is not a cock of hay, nor a cock of hay because it is not a sheaf of
wheat; nor a pig, because it is neither one nor the other; but these
same persons, under the figure of an established church, will not
permit their Maker to receive the varied tythes of man's devotion.

  One of the continual choruses of Mr. Burke's book is "Church and
State." He does not mean some one particular church, or some one
particular state, but any church and state; and he uses the term as
a general figure to hold forth the political doctrine of always
uniting the church with the state in every country, and he censures
the National Assembly for not having done this in France. Let us
bestow a few thoughts on this subject.

  All religions are in their nature kind and benign, and united with
principles of morality. They could not have made proselytes at first
by professing anything that was vicious, cruel, persecuting, or
immoral. Like everything else, they had their beginning; and they
proceeded by persuasion, exhortation, and example. How then is it that
they lose their native mildness, and become morose and intolerant?

  It proceeds from the connection which Mr. Burke recommends. By
engendering the church with the state, a sort of mule-animal,
capable only of destroying, and not of breeding up, is produced,
called the Church established by Law. It is a stranger, even from
its birth, to any parent mother, on whom it is begotten, and whom in
time it kicks out and destroys.

  The inquisition in Spain does not proceed from the religion
originally professed, but from this mule-animal, engendered between
the church and the state. The burnings in Smithfield proceeded from
the same heterogeneous production; and it was the regeneration of this
strange animal in England afterwards, that renewed rancour and
irreligion among the inhabitants, and that drove the people called
Quakers and Dissenters to America. Persecution is not an original
feature in any religion; but it is alway the strongly-marked feature
of all law-religions, or religions established by law. Take away the
law-establishment, and every religion re-assumes its original
benignity. In America, a catholic priest is a good citizen, a good
character, and a good neighbour; an episcopalian minister is of the
same description: and this proceeds independently of the men, from
there being no law-establishment in America.

  If also we view this matter in a temporal sense, we shall see the
ill effects it has had on the prosperity of nations. The union of
church and state has impoverished Spain. The revoking the edict of
Nantes drove the silk manufacture from that country into England;
and church and state are now driving the cotton manufacture from
England to America and France. Let then Mr. Burke continue to preach
his antipolitical doctrine of Church and State. It will do some
good. The National Assembly will not follow his advice, but will
benefit by his folly. It was by observing the ill effects of it in
England, that America has been warned against it; and it is by
experiencing them in France, that the National Assembly have abolished
it, and, like America, have established UNIVERSAL RIGHT OF CONSCIENCE,
AND UNIVERSAL RIGHT OF CITIZENSHIP.*[7]

  I will here cease the comparison with respect to the principles of
the French Constitution, and conclude this part of the subject with
a few observations on the organisation of the formal parts of the
French and English governments.

  The executive power in each country is in the hands of a person
styled the King; but the French Constitution distinguishes between the
King and the Sovereign: It considers the station of King as
official, and places Sovereignty in the nation.

  The representatives of the nation, who compose the National
Assembly, and who are the legislative power, originate in and from the
people by election, as an inherent right in the people.- In England it
is otherwise; and this arises from the original establishment of
what is called its monarchy; for, as by the conquest all the rights of
the people or the nation were absorbed into the hands of the
Conqueror, and who added the title of King to that of Conqueror, those
same matters which in France are now held as rights in the people,
or in the nation, are held in England as grants from what is called
the crown. The Parliament in England, in both its branches, was
erected by patents from the descendants of the Conqueror. The House of
Commons did not originate as a matter of right in the people to
delegate or elect, but as a grant or boon.

  By the French Constitution the nation is always named before the
king. The third article of the declaration of rights says: "The nation
is essentially the source (or fountain) of all sovereignty." Mr. Burke
argues that in England a king is the fountain- that he is the fountain
of all honour. But as this idea is evidently descended from the
conquest I shall make no other remark upon it, than that it is the
nature of conquest to turn everything upside down; and as Mr. Burke
will not be refused the privilege of speaking twice, and as there
are but two parts in the figure, the fountain and the spout, he will
be right the second time.

  The French Constitution puts the legislative before the executive,
the law before the king; la loi, le roi. This also is in the natural
order of things, because laws must have existence before they can have
execution.

  A king in France does not, in addressing himself to the National
Assembly, say, "My Assembly," similar to the phrase used in England of
my "Parliament"; neither can he use it consistently with the
constitution, nor could it be admitted. There may be propriety in
the use of it in England, because as is before mentioned, both
Houses of Parliament originated from  what is called the crown by
patent or boon- and not from the inherent rights of the people, as the
National Assembly does in France, and whose name designates its
origin.

  The President of the National Assembly does not ask the King to
grant to the Assembly liberty of speech, as is the case with the
English House of Commons. The constitutional dignity of the National
Assembly cannot debase itself. Speech is, in the first place, one of
the natural rights of man always retained; and with respect to the
National Assembly the use of it is their duty, and the nation is their
authority. They were elected by the greatest body of men exercising
the right of election the European world ever saw. They sprung not
from the filth of rotten boroughs, nor are they the vassal
representatives of aristocratical ones. Feeling the proper dignity
of their character they support it. Their Parliamentary language,
whether for or against a question, is free, bold and manly, and
extends to all the parts and circumstances of the case. If any
matter or subject respecting the executive department or the person
who presides in it (the king) comes before them it is debated on
with the spirit of men, and in the language of gentlemen; and their
answer or their address is returned in the same style. They stand
not aloof with the gaping vacuity of vulgar ignorance, nor bend with
the cringe of sycophantic insignificance. The graceful pride of
truth knows no extremes, and preserves, in every latitude of life, the
right-angled character of man.

  Let us now look to the other side of the question. In the
addresses of the English Parliaments to their kings we see neither the
intrepid spirit of the old Parliaments of France, nor the serene
dignity of the present National Assembly; neither do we see in them
anything of the style of English manners, which border somewhat on
bluntness. Since then they are neither of foreign extraction, nor
naturally of English production, their origin must be sought for
elsewhere, and that origin is the Norman Conquest. They are
evidently of the vassalage class of manners, and emphatically mark the
prostrate distance that exists in no other condition of men than
between the conqueror and the conquered. That this vassalage idea
and style of speaking was not got rid of even at the Revolution of
1688, is evident from the declaration of Parliament to William and
Mary in these words: "We do most humbly and faithfully submit
ourselves, our heirs and posterities, for ever." Submission is
wholly a vassalage term, repugnant to the dignity of freedom, and an
echo of the language used at the Conquest.

  As the estimation of all things is given by comparison, the
Revolution of 1688, however from circumstances it may have been
exalted beyond its value, will find its level. It is already on the
wane, eclipsed by the enlarging orb of reason, and the luminous
revolutions of America and France. In less than another century it
will go, as well as Mr. Burke's labours, "to the family vault of all
the Capulets." Mankind will then scarcely believe that a country
calling itself free would send to Holland for a man, and clothe him
with power on purpose to put themselves in fear of him, and give him
almost a million sterling a year for leave to submit themselves and
their posterity, like bondmen and bondwomen, for ever.

  But there is a truth that ought to be made known; I have had the
opportunity of seeing it; which is, that notwithstanding
appearances, there is not any description of men that despise monarchy
so much as courtiers. But they well know, that if it were seen by
others, as it is seen by them, the juggle could not be kept up; they
are in the condition of men who get their living by a show, and to
whom the folly of that show is so familiar that they ridicule it;
but were the audience to be made as wise in this respect as
themselves, there would be an end to the show and the profits with it.
The difference between a republican and a courtier with respect to
monarchy, is that the one opposes monarchy, believing it to be
something; and the other laughs at it, knowing it to be nothing.

  As I used sometimes to correspond with Mr. Burke believing him
then to be a man of sounder principles than his book shows him to
be, I wrote to him last winter from Paris, and gave him an account how
prosperously matters were going on. Among other subjects in that
letter, I referred to the happy situation the National Assembly were
placed in; that they had taken ground on which their moral duty and
their political interest were united. They have not to hold out a
language which they do not themselves believe, for the fraudulent
purpose of making others believe it. Their station requires no
artifice to support it, and can only be maintained by enlightening
mankind. It is not their interest to cherish ignorance, but to
dispel it. They are not in the case of a ministerial or an
opposition party in England, who, though they are opposed, are still
united to keep up the common mystery. The National Assembly must throw
open a magazine of light. It must show man the proper character of
man; and the nearer it can bring him to that standard, the stronger
the National Assembly becomes.

  In contemplating the French Constitution, we see in it a rational
order of things. The principles harmonise with the forms, and both
with their origin. It may perhaps be said as an excuse for bad
forms, that they are nothing more than forms; but this is a mistake.
Forms grow out of principles, and operate to continue the principles
they grow from. It is impossible to practise a bad form on anything
but a bad principle. It cannot be ingrafted on a good one; and
wherever the forms in any government are bad, it is a certain
indication that the principles are bad also.

  I will here finally close this subject. I began it by remarking that
Mr. Burke had voluntarily declined going into a comparison of the
English and French Constitutions. He apologises (in page 241) for
not doing it, by saying that he had not time. Mr. Burke's book was
upwards of eight months in hand, and is extended to a volume of
three hundred and sixty-six pages. As his omission does injury to
his cause, his apology makes it worse; and men on the English side
of the water will begin to consider, whether there is not some radical
defect in what is called the English constitution, that made it
necessary for Mr. Burke to suppress the comparison, to avoid
bringing it into view.

  As Mr. Burke has not written on constitutions so neither has he
written on the French Revolution. He gives no account of its
commencement or its progress. He only expresses his wonder. "It
looks," says he, "to me, as if I were in a great crisis, not of the
affairs of France alone, but of all Europe, perhaps of more than
Europe. All circumstances taken together, the French Revolution is the
most astonishing that has hitherto happened in the world."

  As wise men are astonished at foolish things, and other people at
wise ones, I know not on which ground to account for Mr. Burke's
astonishment; but certain it is, that he does not understand the
French Revolution. It has apparently burst forth like a creation
from a chaos, but it is no more than the consequence of a mental
revolution priorily existing in France. The mind of the nation had
changed beforehand, and the new order of things has naturally followed
the new order of thoughts. I will here, as concisely as I can, trace
out the growth of the French Revolution, and mark the circumstances
that have contributed to produce it.

  The despotism of Louis XIV., united with the gaiety of his Court,
and the gaudy ostentation of his character, had so humbled, and at the
same time so fascinated the mind of France, that the people appeared
to have lost all sense of their own dignity, in contemplating that
of their Grand Monarch; and the whole reign of Louis XV., remarkable
only for weakness and effeminacy, made no other alteration than that
of spreading a sort of lethargy over the nation, from which it
showed no disposition to rise.

  The only signs which appeared to the spirit of Liberty during
those periods, are to be found in the writings of the French
philosophers. Montesquieu, President of the Parliament of Bordeaux,
went as far as a writer under a despotic government could well
proceed; and being obliged to divide himself between principle and
prudence, his mind often appears under a veil, and we ought to give
him credit for more than he has expressed.

  Voltaire, who was both the flatterer and the satirist of
despotism, took another line. His forte lay in exposing and ridiculing
the superstitions which priest-craft, united with state-craft, had
interwoven with governments. It was not from the purity of his
principles, or his love of mankind (for satire and philanthropy are
not naturally concordant), but from his strong capacity of seeing
folly in its true shape, and his irresistible propensity to expose it,
that he made those attacks. They were, however, as formidable as if
the motive had been virtuous; and he merits the thanks rather than the
esteem of mankind.

  On the contrary, we find in the writings of Rousseau, and the Abbe
Raynal, a loveliness of sentiment in favour of liberty, that excites
respect, and elevates the human faculties; but having raised this
animation, they do not direct its operation, and leave the mind in
love with an object, without describing the means of possessing it.

  The writings of Quesnay, Turgot, and the friends of those authors,
are of the serious kind; but they laboured under the same disadvantage
with Montesquieu; their writings abound with moral maxims of
government, but are rather directed to economise and reform the
administration of the government, than the government itself.

  But all those writings and many others had their weight; and by
the different manner in which they treated the subject of
government, Montesquieu by his judgment and knowledge of laws,
Voltaire by his wit, Rousseau and Raynal by their animation, and
Quesnay and Turgot by their moral maxims and systems of economy,
readers of every class met with something to their taste, and a spirit
of political inquiry began to diffuse itself through the nation at the
time the dispute between England and the then colonies of America
broke out.

  In the war which France afterwards engaged in, it is very well known
that the nation appeared to be before-hand with the French ministry.
Each of them had its view; but those views were directed to
different objects; the one sought liberty, and the other retaliation
on England. The French officers and soldiers who after this went to
America, were eventually placed in the school of Freedom, and
learned the practice as well as the principles of it by heart.

  As it was impossible to separate the military events which took
place in America from the principles of the American Revolution, the
publication of those events in France necessarily connected themselves
with the principles which produced them. Many of the facts were in
themselves principles; such as the declaration of American
Independence, and the treaty of alliance between France and America,
which recognised the natural rights of man, and justified resistance
to oppression.

  The then Minister of France, Count Vergennes, was not the friend
of America; and it is both justice and gratitude to say, that it was
the Queen of France who gave the cause of America a fashion at the
French Court. Count Vergennes was the personal and social friend of
Dr. Franklin; and the Doctor had obtained, by his sensible
gracefulness, a sort of influence over him; but with respect to
principles Count Vergennes was a despot.

  The situation of Dr. Franklin, as Minister from America to France,
should be taken into the chain of circumstances. The diplomatic
character is of itself the narrowest sphere of society that man can
act in. It forbids intercourse by the reciprocity of suspicion; and
a diplomatic is a sort of unconnected atom, continually repelling
and repelled. But this was not the case with Dr. Franklin. He was
not the diplomatic of a Court, but of MAN. His character as a
philosopher had been long established, and his circle of society in
France was universal.

  Count Vergennes resisted for a considerable time the publication
in France of American constitutions, translated into the French
language: but even in this he was obliged to give way to public
opinion, and a sort of propriety in admitting to appear what he had
undertaken to defend. The American constitutions were to liberty
what a grammar is to language: they define its parts of speech, and
practically construct them into syntax.

  The peculiar situation of the then Marquis de la Fayette is
another link in the great chain. He served in America as an American
officer under a commission of Congress, and by the universality of his
acquaintance was in close friendship with the civil government of
America, as well as with the military line. He spoke the language of
the country, entered into the discussions on the principles of
government, and was always a welcome friend at any election.

  When the war closed, a vast reinforcement to the cause of Liberty
spread itself over France, by the return of the French officers and
soldiers. A knowledge of the practice was then joined to the theory;
and all that was wanting to give it real existence was opportunity.
Man cannot, properly speaking, make circumstances for his purpose, but
he always has it in his power to improve them when they occur, and
this was the case in France.

  M. Neckar was displaced in May, 1781; and by the ill-management of
the finances afterwards, and particularly during the extravagant
administration of M. Calonne, the revenue of France, which was
nearly twenty-four millions sterling per year, was become unequal to
the expenditure, not because the revenue had decreased, but because
the expenses had increased; and this was a circumstance which the
nation laid hold of to bring forward a Revolution. The English
Minister, Mr. Pitt, has frequently alluded to the state of the
French finances in his budgets, without understanding the subject. Had
the French Parliaments been as ready to register edicts for new
taxes as an English Parliament is to grant them, there had been no
derangement in the finances, nor yet any Revolution; but this will
better explain itself as I proceed.

  It will be necessary here to show how taxes were formerly raised
in France. The King, or rather the Court or Ministry acting under
the use of that name, framed the edicts for taxes at their own
discretion, and sent them to the Parliaments to be registered; for
until they were registered by the Parliaments they were not operative.
Disputes had long existed between. the Court and the Parliaments
with respect to the extent of the Parliament's authority on this head.
The Court insisted that the authority of Parliaments went no farther
than to remonstrate or show reasons against the tax, reserving to
itself the right of determining whether the reasons were well or
ill-founded; and in consequence thereof, either to withdraw the
edict as a matter of choice, or to order it to be unregistered as a
matter of authority. The Parliaments on their part insisted that
they had not only a right to remonstrate, but to reject; and on this
ground they were always supported by the nation.

  But to return to the order of my narrative. M. Calonne wanted money:
and as he knew the sturdy disposition of the Parliaments with
respect to new taxes, he ingeniously sought either to approach them by
a more gentle means than that of direct authority, or to get over
their heads by a manoeuvre; and for this purpose he revived the
project of assembling a body of men from the several provinces,
under the style of an "Assembly of the Notables," or men of note,
who met in 1787, and who were either to recommend taxes to the
Parliaments, or to act as a Parliament themselves. An Assembly under
this name had been called in 1617.

  As we are to view this as the first practical step towards the
Revolution, it will be proper to enter into some particulars
respecting it. The Assembly of the Notables has in some places been
mistaken for the States-General, but was wholly a different body,
the States-General being always by election. The persons who
composed the Assembly of the Notables were all nominated by the
king, and consisted of one hundred and forty members. But as M.
Calonne could not depend upon a majority of this Assembly in his
favour, he very ingeniously arranged them in such a manner as to
make forty-four a majority of one hundred and forty; to effect this he
disposed of them into seven separate committees, of twenty members
each. Every general question was to be decided, not by a majority of
persons, but by a majority of committee, and as eleven votes would
make a majority in a committee, and four committees a majority of
seven, M. Calonne had good reason to conclude that as forty-four would
determine any general question he could not be outvoted. But all his
plans deceived him, and in the event became his overthrow.

  The then Marquis de la Fayette was placed in the second committee,
of which the Count D'Artois was president, and as money matters were
the object, it naturally brought into view every circumstance
connected with it. M. de la Fayette made a verbal charge against
Calonne for selling crown lands to the amount of two millions of
livres, in a manner that appeared to be unknown to the king. The Count
D'Artois (as if to intimidate, for the Bastille was then in being)
asked the Marquis if he would render the charge in writing? He replied
that he would. The Count D'Artois did not demand it, but brought a
message from the king to that purport. M. de la Fayette then delivered
in his charge in writing, to be given to the king, undertaking to
support it. No farther proceedings were had upon this affair, but M.
Calonne was soon after dismissed by the king and set off to England.

  As M. de la Fayette, from the experience of what he had seen in
America, was better acquainted with the science of civil government
than the generality of the members who composed the Assembly of the
Notables could then be, the brunt of the business fell considerably to
his share. The plan of those who had a constitution in view was to
contend with the Court on the ground of taxes, and some of them openly
professed their object. Disputes frequently arose between Count
D'Artois and M. de la Fayette upon various subjects. With respect to
the arrears already incurred the latter proposed to remedy them by
accommodating the expenses to the revenue instead of the revenue to
the expenses; and as objects of reform he proposed to abolish the
Bastille and all the State prisons throughout the nation (the
keeping of which was attended with great expense), and to suppress
Lettres de Cachet; but those matters were not then much attended to,
and with respect to Lettres de Cachet, a majority of the Nobles
appeared to be in favour of them.

  On the subject of supplying the Treasury by new taxes the Assembly
declined taking the matter on themselves, concurring in the opinion
that they had not authority. In a debate on this subject M. de la
Fayette said that raising money by taxes could only be done by a
National Assembly, freely elected by the people, and acting as their
representatives. Do you mean, said the Count D'Artois, the
States-General? M. de la Fayette replied that he did. Will you, said
the Count D'Artois, sign what you say to be given to the king? The
other replied that he would not only do this but that he would go
farther, and say that the effectual mode would be for the king to
agree to the establishment of a constitution.

  As one of the plans had thus failed, that of getting the Assembly to
act as a Parliament, the other came into view, that of recommending.
On this subject the Assembly agreed to recommend two new taxes to be
unregistered by the Parliament: the one a stamp-tax and the other a
territorial tax, or sort of land-tax. The two have been estimated at
about five millions sterling per annum. We have now to turn our
attention to the Parliaments, on whom the business was again
devolving.

  The Archbishop of Thoulouse (since Archbishop of Sens, and now a
Cardinal), was appointed to the administration of the finances soon
after the dismission of Calonne. He was also made Prime Minister, an
office that did not always exist in France. When this office did not
exist, the chief of each of the principal departments transacted
business immediately with the King, but when a Prime Minister was
appointed they did business only with him. The Archbishop arrived to
more state authority than any minister since the Duke de Choiseul, and
the nation was strongly disposed in his favour; but by a line of
conduct scarcely to be accounted for he perverted every opportunity,
turned out a despot, and sunk into disgrace, and a Cardinal.

  The Assembly of the Notables having broken up, the minister sent the
edicts for the two new taxes recommended by the Assembly to the
Parliaments to be unregistered. They of course came first before the
Parliament of Paris, who returned for answer: "that with such a
revenue as the nation then supported the name of taxes ought not to be
mentioned but for the purpose of reducing them"; and threw both the
edicts out.*[8] On this refusal the Parliament was ordered to
Versailles, where, in the usual form, the King held what under the old
government was called a Bed of justice; and the two edicts were
unregistered in presence of the Parliament by an order of State, in
the manner mentioned, earlier. On this the Parliament immediately
returned to Paris, renewed their session in form, and ordered the
enregistering to be struck out, declaring that everything done at
Versailles was illegal. All the members of the Parliament were then
served with Lettres de Cachet, and exiled to Troyes; but as they
continued as inflexible in exile as before, and as vengeance did not
supply the place of taxes, they were after a short time recalled to
Paris.

  The edicts were again tendered to them, and the Count D'Artois
undertook to act as representative of the King. For this purpose he
came from Versailles to Paris, in a train of procession; and the
Parliament were assembled to receive him. But show and parade had lost
their influence in France; and whatever ideas of importance he might
set off with, he had to return with those of mortification and
disappointment. On alighting from his carriage to ascend the steps
of the Parliament House, the crowd (which was numerously collected)
threw out trite expressions, saying: "This is Monsieur D'Artois, who
wants more of our money to spend." The marked disapprobation which
he saw impressed him with apprehensions, and the word Aux armes! (To
arms!) was given out by the officer of the guard who attended him.
It was so loudly vociferated, that it echoed through the avenues of
the house, and produced a temporary confusion. I was then standing
in one of the apartments through which he had to pass, and could not
avoid reflecting how wretched was the condition of a disrespected man.

  He endeavoured to impress the Parliament by great words, and
opened his authority by saying, "The King, our Lord and Master." The
Parliament received him very coolly, and with their usual
determination not to register the taxes: and in this manner the
interview ended.

  After this a new subject took place: In the various debates and
contests which arose between the Court and the Parliaments on the
subject of taxes, the Parliament of Paris at last declared that
although it had been customary for Parliaments to enregister edicts
for taxes as a matter of convenience, the right belonged only to the
States-General; and that, therefore, the Parliament could no longer
with propriety continue to debate on what it had not authority to act.
The King after this came to Paris and held a meeting with the
Parliament, in which he continued from ten in the morning till about
six in the evening, and, in a manner that appeared to proceed from him
as if unconsulted upon with the Cabinet or Ministry, gave his word
to the Parliament that the States-General should be convened.

  But after this another scene arose, on a ground different from all
the former. The Minister and the Cabinet were averse to calling the
States-General. They well knew that if the States-General were
assembled, themselves must fall; and as the King had not mentioned any
time, they hit on a project calculated to elude, without appearing
to oppose.

  For this purpose, the Court set about making a sort of
constitution itself. It was principally the work of M. Lamoignon,
the Keeper of the Seals, who afterwards shot himself. This new
arrangement consisted in establishing a body under the name of a
Cour Pleniere, or Full Court, in which were invested all the powers
that the Government might have occasion to make use of. The persons
composing this Court were to be nominated by the King; the contended
right of taxation was given up on the part of the King, and a new
criminal code of laws and law proceedings was substituted in the
room of the former. The thing, in many points, contained better
principles than those upon which the Government had hitherto been
administered; but with respect to the Cour Pleniere, it was no other
than a medium through which despotism was to pass, without appearing
to act directly from itself.

  The Cabinet had high expectations from their new contrivance. The
people who were to compose the Cour Pleniere were already nominated;
and as it was necessary to carry a fair appearance, many of the best
characters in the nation were appointed among the number. It was to
commence on May 8, 1788; but an opposition arose to it on two grounds-
the one as to principle, the other as to form.

  On the ground of Principle it was contended that Government had
not a right to alter itself, and that if the practice was once
admitted it would grow into a principle and be made a precedent for
any future alterations the Government might wish to establish: that
the right of altering the Government was a national right, and not a
right of Government. And on the ground of form it was contended that
the Cour Pleniere was nothing more than a larger Cabinet.

  The then Duke de la Rochefoucault, Luxembourg, De Noailles, and many
others, refused to accept the nomination, and strenuously opposed
the whole plan. When the edict for establishing this new court was
sent to the Parliaments to be unregistered and put into execution,
they resisted also. The Parliament of Paris not only refused, but
denied the authority; and the contest renewed itself between the
Parliament and the Cabinet more strongly than ever. While the
Parliament were sitting in debate on this subject, the Ministry
ordered a regiment of soldiers to surround the House and form a
blockade. The members sent out for beds and provisions, and lived as
in a besieged citadel: and as this had no effect, the commanding
officer was ordered to enter the Parliament House and seize them,
which he did, and some of the principal members were shut up in
different prisons. About the same time a deputation of persons arrived
from the province of Brittany to remonstrate against the establishment
of the Cour Pleniere, and those the archbishop sent to the Bastille.
But the spirit of the nation was not to be overcome, and it was so
fully sensible of the strong ground it had taken- that of
withholding taxes- that it contented itself with keeping up a sort
of quiet resistance, which effectually overthrew all the plans at that
time formed against it. The project of the Cour Pleniere was at last
obliged to be given up, and the Prime Minister not long afterwards
followed its fate, and M. Neckar was recalled into office.

  The attempt to establish the Cour Pleniere had an effect upon the
nation which itself did not perceive. It was a sort of new form of
government that insensibly served to put the old one out of sight
and to unhinge it from the superstitious authority of antiquity. It
was Government dethroning Government; and the old one, by attempting
to make a new one, made a chasm.

  The failure of this scheme renewed the subject of convening the
State-General; and this gave rise to a new series of politics. There
was no settled form for convening the States-General: all that it
positively meant was a deputation from what was then called the
Clergy, the Noblesse, and the Commons; but their numbers or their
proportions had not been always the same. They had been convened
only on extraordinary occasions, the last of which was in 1614;
their numbers were then in equal proportions, and they voted by
orders.

  It could not well escape the sagacity of M. Neckar, that the mode of
1614 would answer neither the purpose of the then government nor of
the nation. As matters were at that time circumstanced it would have
been too contentious to agree upon anything. The debates would have
been endless upon privileges and exemptions, in which neither the
wants of the Government nor the wishes of the nation for a
Constitution would have been attended to. But as he did not choose
to take the decision upon himself, he summoned again the Assembly of
the Notables and referred it to them. This body was in general
interested in the decision, being chiefly of aristocracy and high-paid
clergy, and they decided in favor of the mode of 1614. This decision
was against the sense of the Nation, and also against the wishes of
the Court; for the aristocracy opposed itself to both and contended
for privileges independent of either. The subject was then taken up by
the Parliament, who recommended that the number of the Commons
should be equal to the other two: and they should all sit in one house
and vote in one body. The number finally determined on was 1,200;
600 to be chosen by the Commons (and this was less than their
proportion ought to have been when their worth and consequence is
considered on a national scale), 300 by the Clergy, and 300 by the
Aristocracy; but with respect to the mode of assembling themselves,
whether together or apart, or the manner in which they should vote,
those matters were referred.*[9]

  The election that followed was not a contested election, but an
animated one. The candidates were not men, but principles. Societies
were formed in Paris, and committees of correspondence and
communication established throughout the nation, for the purpose of
enlightening the people, and explaining to them the principles of
civil government; and so orderly was the election conducted, that it
did not give rise even to the rumour of tumult.

  The States-General were to meet at Versailles in April 1789, but did
not assemble till May. They situated themselves in three separate
chambers, or rather the Clergy and Aristocracy withdrew each into a
separate chamber. The majority of the Aristocracy claimed what they
called the privilege of voting as a separate body, and of giving their
consent or their negative in that manner; and many of the bishops
and the high-beneficed clergy claimed the same privilege on the part
of their Order.

  The Tiers Etat (as they were then called) disowned any knowledge
of artificial orders and artificial privileges; and they were not only
resolute on this point, but somewhat disdainful. They began to
consider the Aristocracy as a kind of fungus growing out of the
corruption of society, that could not be admitted even as a branch
of it; and from the disposition the Aristocracy had shown by upholding
Lettres de Cachet, and in sundry other instances, it was manifest that
no constitution could be formed by admitting men in any other
character than as National Men.

  After various altercations on this head, the Tiers Etat or Commons
(as they were then called) declared themselves (on a motion made for
that purpose by the Abbe Sieyes) "THE REPRESENTATIVE OF THE NATION;
and that the two Orders could be considered but as deputies of
corporations, and could only have a deliberate voice when they
assembled in a national character with the national
representatives." This proceeding extinguished the style of Etats
Generaux, or States-General, and erected it into the style it now
bears, that of L'Assemblee Nationale, or National Assembly.

  This motion was not made in a precipitate manner. It was the
result of cool deliberation, and concerned between the national
representatives and the patriotic members of the two chambers, who saw
into the folly, mischief, and injustice of artificial privileged
distinctions. It was become evident, that no constitution, worthy of
being called by that name, could be established on anything less
than a national ground. The Aristocracy had hitherto opposed the
despotism of the Court, and affected the language of patriotism; but
it opposed it as its rival (as the English Barons opposed King John)
and it now opposed the nation from the same motives.

  On carrying this motion, the national representatives, as had been
concerted, sent an invitation to the two chambers, to unite with
them in a national character, and proceed to business. A majority of
the clergy, chiefly of the parish priests, withdrew from the
clerical chamber, and joined the nation; and forty-five from the other
chamber joined in like manner. There is a sort of secret history
belonging to this last circumstance, which is necessary to its
explanation; it was not judged prudent that all the patriotic
members of the chamber styling itself the Nobles, should quit it at
once; and in consequence of this arrangement, they drew off by
degrees, always leaving some, as well to reason the case, as to
watch the suspected. In a little time the numbers increased from
forty-five to eighty, and soon after to a greater number; which,
with the majority of the clergy, and the whole of the national
representatives, put the malcontents in a very diminutive condition.

  The King, who, very different from the general class called by
that name, is a man of a good heart, showed himself disposed to
recommend a union of the three chambers, on the ground the National
Assembly had taken; but the malcontents exerted themselves to
prevent it, and began now to have another project in view. Their
numbers consisted of a majority of the aristocratical chamber, and the
minority of the clerical chamber, chiefly of bishops and
high-beneficed clergy; and these men were determined to put everything
to issue, as well by strength as by stratagem. They had no objection
to a constitution; but it must be such a one as themselves should
dictate, and suited to their own views and particular situations. On
the other hand, the Nation disowned knowing anything of them but as
citizens, and was determined to shut out all such up-start
pretensions. The more aristocracy appeared, the more it was
despised; there was a visible imbecility and want of intellects in the
majority, a sort of je ne sais quoi, that while it affected to be more
than citizen, was less than man. It lost ground from contempt more
than from hatred; and was rather jeered at as an ass, than dreaded
as a lion. This is the general character of aristocracy, or what are
called Nobles or Nobility, or rather No-ability, in all countries.

  The plan of the malcontents consisted now of two things; either to
deliberate and vote by chambers (or orders), more especially on all
questions respecting a Constitution (by which the aristocratical
chamber would have had a negative on any article of the Constitution);
or, in case they could not accomplish this object, to overthrow the
National Assembly entirely.

  To effect one or other of these objects they began to cultivate a
friendship with the despotism they had hitherto attempted to rival,
and the Count D'Artois became their chief. The king (who has since
declared himself deceived into their measures) held, according to
the old form, a Bed of Justice, in which he accorded to the
deliberation and vote par tete (by head) upon several subjects; but
reserved the deliberation and vote upon all questions respecting a
constitution to the three chambers separately. This declaration of the
king was made against the advice of M. Neckar, who now began to
perceive that he was growing out of fashion at Court, and that another
minister was in contemplation.

  As the form of sitting in separate chambers was yet apparently
kept up, though essentially destroyed, the national representatives
immediately after this declaration of the King resorted to their own
chambers to consult on a protest against it; and the minority of the
chamber (calling itself the Nobles), who had joined the national
cause, retired to a private house to consult in like manner. The
malcontents had by this time concerted their measures with the
court, which the Count D'Artois undertook to conduct; and as they
saw from the discontent which the declaration excited, and the
opposition making against it, that they could not obtain a control
over the intended constitution by a separate vote, they prepared
themselves for their final object- that of conspiring against the
National Assembly, and overthrowing it.

  The next morning the door of the chamber of the National Assembly
was shut against them, and guarded by troops; and the members were
refused admittance. On this they withdrew to a tennis-ground in the
neighbourhood of Versailles, as the most convenient place they could
find, and, after renewing their session, took an oath never to
separate from each other, under any circumstance whatever, death
excepted, until they had established a constitution. As the experiment
of shutting up the house had no other effect than that of producing
a closer connection in the members, it was opened again the next
day, and the public business recommenced in the usual place.

  We are now to have in view the forming of the new ministry, which
was to accomplish the overthrow of the National Assembly. But as force
would be necessary, orders were issued to assemble thirty thousand
troops, the command of which was given to Broglio, one of the intended
new ministry, who was recalled from the country for this purpose.
But as some management was necessary to keep this plan concealed
till the moment it should be ready for execution, it is to this policy
that a declaration made by Count D'Artois must be attributed, and
which is here proper to be introduced.

  It could not but occur while the malcontents continued to resort
to their chambers separate from the National Assembly, more jealousy
would be excited than if they were mixed with it, and that the plot
might be suspected. But as they had taken their ground, and now wanted
a pretence for quitting it, it was necessary that one should be
devised. This was effectually accomplished by a declaration made by
the Count D'Artois: "That if they took not a Part in the National
Assembly, the life of the king would be endangered": on which they
quitted their chambers, and mixed with the Assembly, in one body.

  At the time this declaration was made, it was generally treated as a
piece of absurdity in Count D'Artois calculated merely to relieve
the outstanding members of the two chambers from the diminutive
situation they were put in; and if nothing more had followed, this
conclusion would have been good. But as things best explain themselves
by their events, this apparent union was only a cover to the
machinations which were secretly going on; and the declaration
accommodated itself to answer that purpose. In a little time the
National Assembly found itself surrounded by troops, and thousands
more were daily arriving. On this a very strong declaration was made
by the National Assembly to the King, remonstrating on the impropriety
of the measure, and demanding the reason. The King, who was not in the
secret of this business, as himself afterwards declared, gave
substantially for answer, that he had no other object in view than
to preserve the public tranquility, which appeared to be much
disturbed.

  But in a few days from this time the plot unravelled itself M.
Neckar and the ministry were displaced, and a new one formed of the
enemies of the Revolution; and Broglio, with between twenty-five and
thirty thousand foreign troops, was arrived to support them. The
mask was now thrown off, and matters were come to a crisis. The
event was that in a space of three days the new ministry and their
abettors found it prudent to fly the nation; the Bastille was taken,
and Broglio and his foreign troops dispersed, as is already related in
the former part of this work.

  There are some curious circumstances in the history of this
short-lived ministry, and this short-lived attempt at a
counter-revolution. The Palace of Versailles, where the Court was
sitting, was not more than four hundred yards distant from the hall
where the National Assembly was sitting. The two places were at this
moment like the separate headquarters of two combatant armies; yet the
Court was as perfectly ignorant of the information which had arrived
from Paris to the National Assembly, as if it had resided at an
hundred miles distance. The then Marquis de la Fayette, who (as has
been already mentioned) was chosen to preside in the National Assembly
on this particular occasion, named by order of the Assembly three
successive deputations to the king, on the day and up to the evening
on which the Bastille was taken, to inform and confer with him on
the state of affairs; but the ministry, who knew not so much as that
it was attacked, precluded all communication, and were solacing
themselves how dextrously they had succeeded; but in a few hours the
accounts arrived so thick and fast that they had to start from their
desks and run. Some set off in one disguise, and some in another,
and none in their own character. Their anxiety now was to outride
the news, lest they should be stopt, which, though it flew fast,
flew not so fast as themselves.

  It is worth remarking that the National Assembly neither pursued
those fugitive conspirators, nor took any notice of them, nor sought
to retaliate in any shape whatever. Occupied with establishing a
constitution founded on the Rights of Man and the Authority of the
People, the only authority on which Government has a right to exist in
any country, the National Assembly felt none of those mean passions
which mark the character of impertinent governments, founding
themselves on their own authority, or on the absurdity of hereditary
succession. It is the faculty of the human mind to become what it
contemplates, and to act in unison with its object.

  The conspiracy being thus dispersed, one of the first works of the
National Assembly, instead of vindictive proclamations, as has been
the case with other governments, was to publish a declaration of the
Rights of Man, as the basis on which the new constitution was to be
built, and which is here subjoined:

  DECLARATION OF THE RIGHTS OF MAN AND OF CITIZENS BY THE NATIONAL
ASSEMBLY OF FRANCE

  The representatives of the people of FRANCE, formed into a
NATIONAL ASSEMBLY, considering that ignorance, neglect, or contempt of
human rights, are the sole causes of public misfortunes and
corruptions of Government, have resolved to set forth in a solemn
declaration, these natural, imprescriptible, and inalienable rights:
that this declaration being constantly present to the minds of the
members of the body social, they may be forever kept attentive to
their rights and their duties; that the acts of the legislative and
executive powers of Government, being capable of being every moment
compared with the end of political institutions, may be more
respected; and also, that the future claims of the citizens, being
directed by simple and incontestable principles, may always tend to
the maintenance of the Constitution, and the general happiness.

  For these reasons the NATIONAL ASSEMBLY doth recognize and
declare, in the presence of the Supreme Being, and with the hope of
his blessing and favour, the following sacred rights of men and of
citizens:

  ONE: MEN ARE BORN, AND ALWAYS CONTINUE, FREE AND EQUAL IN RESPECT OF
THEIR RIGHTS. CIVIL DISTINCTIONS, THEREFORE, CAN BE FOUNDED ONLY ON
PUBLIC UTILITY.

  TWO: THE END OF ALL POLITICAL ASSOCIATIONS IS THE PRESERVATION OF
THE NATURAL AND IMPRESCRIPTIBLE RIGHTS OF MAN; AND THESE RIGHTS ARE
LIBERTY, PROPERTY, SECURITY, AND RESISTANCE OF OPPRESSION.

  THREE: THE NATION IS ESSENTIALLY THE SOURCE OF ALL SOVEREIGNTY;
NOR CAN ANY INDIVIDUAL, OR ANY BODY OF MEN, BE ENTITLED TO ANY
AUTHORITY WHICH IS NOT EXPRESSLY DERIVED FROM IT.

  FOUR: POLITICAL LIBERTY CONSISTS IN THE POWER OF DOING WHATEVER DOES
NOT INJURE ANOTHER. THE EXERCISE OF THE NATURAL RIGHTS OF EVERY MAN,
HAS NO OTHER LIMITS THAN THOSE WHICH ARE NECESSARY TO SECURE TO
EVERY OTHER MAN THE FREE EXERCISE OF THE SAME RIGHTS; AND THESE LIMITS
ARE DETERMINABLE ONLY BY THE LAW

  FIVE: THE LAW OUGHT TO PROHIBIT ONLY ACTIONS HURTFUL TO SOCIETY.
WHAT IS NOT PROHIBITED BY THE LAW SHOULD NOT BE HINDERED; NOR SHOULD
ANYONE BE COMPELLED TO THAT WHICH THE LAW DOES NOT REQUIRE

  SIX: THE LAW IS AN EXPRESSION OF THE WILL OF THE COMMUNITY. ALL
CITIZENS HAVE A RIGHT TO CONCUR, EITHER PERSONALLY OR BY THEIR
REPRESENTATIVES, IN ITS FORMATION. IT SHOULD BE THE SAME TO ALL,
WHETHER IT PROTECTS OR PUNISHES; AND ALL BEING EQUAL IN ITS SIGHT, ARE
EQUALLY ELIGIBLE TO ALL HONOURS, PLACES, AND EMPLOYMENTS, ACCORDING TO
THEIR DIFFERENT ABILITIES, WITHOUT ANY OTHER DISTINCTION THAN THAT
CREATED BY THEIR VIRTUES AND TALENTS

  SEVEN: NO MAN SHOULD BE ACCUSED, ARRESTED, OR HELD IN CONFINEMENT,
EXCEPT IN CASES DETERMINED BY THE LAW, AND ACCORDING TO THE FORMS
WHICH IT HAS PRESCRIBED. ALL WHO PROMOTE, SOLICIT, EXECUTE, OR CAUSE
TO BE EXECUTED, ARBITRARY ORDERS, OUGHT TO BE PUNISHED, AND EVERY
CITIZEN CALLED UPON, OR APPREHENDED BY VIRTUE OF THE LAW, OUGHT
IMMEDIATELY TO OBEY, AND RENDERS HIMSELF CULPABLE BY RESISTANCE.

  EIGHT: THE LAW OUGHT TO IMPOSE NO OTHER PENALTIES BUT SUCH AS ARE
ABSOLUTELY AND EVIDENTLY NECESSARY; AND NO ONE OUGHT TO BE PUNISHED,
BUT IN VIRTUE OF A LAW PROMULGATED BEFORE THE OFFENCE, AND LEGALLY
APPLIED.

  NINE: EVERY MAN BEING PRESUMED INNOCENT TILL HE HAS BEEN
CONVICTED, WHENEVER HIS DETENTION BECOMES INDISPENSABLE, ALL RIGOUR TO
HIM, MORE THAN IS NECESSARY TO SECURE HIS PERSON, OUGHT TO BE PROVIDED
AGAINST BY THE LAW.

  TEN: NO MAN OUGHT TO BE MOLESTED ON ACCOUNT OF HIS OPINIONS, NOT
EVEN ON ACCOUNT OF HIS RELIGIOUS OPINIONS, PROVIDED HIS AVOWAL OF THEM
DOES NOT DISTURB THE PUBLIC ORDER ESTABLISHED BY THE LAW.

  ELEVEN: THE UNRESTRAINED COMMUNICATION OF THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS
BEING ONE OF THE MOST PRECIOUS RIGHTS OF MAN, EVERY CITIZEN MAY SPEAK,
WRITE, AND PUBLISH FREELY, PROVIDED HE IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE ABUSE OF
THIS LIBERTY, IN CASES DETERMINED BY THE LAW.

  TWELVE: A PUBLIC FORCE BEING NECESSARY TO GIVE SECURITY TO THE
RIGHTS OF MEN AND OF CITIZENS, THAT FORCE IS INSTITUTED FOR THE
BENEFIT OF THE COMMUNITY AND NOT FOR THE PARTICULAR BENEFIT OF THE
PERSONS TO WHOM IT IS INTRUSTED.

  THIRTEEN: A COMMON CONTRIBUTION BEING NECESSARY FOR THE SUPPORT OF
THE PUBLIC FORCE, AND FOR DEFRAYING THE OTHER EXPENSES OF
GOVERNMENT, IT OUGHT TO BE DIVIDED EQUALLY AMONG THE MEMBERS OF THE
COMMUNITY, ACCORDING TO THEIR ABILITIES.

  FOURTEEN: EVERY CITIZEN HAS A RIGHT, EITHER BY HIMSELF OR HIS
REPRESENTATIVE, TO A FREE VOICE IN DETERMINING THE NECESSITY OF PUBLIC
CONTRIBUTIONS, THE APPROPRIATION OF THEM, AND THEIR AMOUNT, MODE OF
ASSESSMENT, AND DURATION.

  FIFTEEN: EVERY COMMUNITY HAS A RIGHT TO DEMAND OF ALL ITS AGENTS
AN ACCOUNT OF THEIR CONDUCT.

  SIXTEEN: EVERY COMMUNITY IN WHICH A SEPARATION OF POWERS AND A
SECURITY OF RIGHTS IS NOT PROVIDED FOR, WANTS A CONSTITUTION.

  SEVENTEEN: THE RIGHT TO PROPERTY BEING INVIOLABLE AND SACRED, NO ONE
OUGHT TO BE DEPRIVED OF IT, EXCEPT IN CASES OF EVIDENT PUBLIC
NECESSITY, LEGALLY ASCERTAINED, AND ON CONDITION OF A PREVIOUS JUST
INDEMNITY.
PT 1 OBSERVATIONS

  Observations on the Declaration of Rights

  The first three articles comprehend in general terms the whole of
a Declaration of Rights, all the succeeding articles either
originate from them or follow as elucidations. The 4th, 5th, and 6th
define more particularly what is only generally expressed in the
1st, 2nd, and 3rd.

  The 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th articles are declaratory of
principles upon which laws shall be constructed, conformable to rights
already declared. But it is questioned by some very good people in
France, as well as in other countries, whether the 10th article
sufficiently guarantees the right it is intended to accord with;
besides which it takes off from the divine dignity of religion, and
weakens its operative force upon the mind, to make it a subject of
human laws. It then presents itself to man like light intercepted by a
cloudy medium, in which the source of it is obscured from his sight,
and he sees nothing to reverence in the dusky ray.*[10]

  The remaining articles, beginning with the twelfth, are
substantially contained in the principles of the preceding articles;
but in the particular situation in which France then was, having to
undo what was wrong, as well as to set up what was right, it was
proper to be more particular than what in another condition of
things would be necessary.

  While the Declaration of Rights was before the National Assembly
some of its members remarked that if a declaration of rights were
published it should be accompanied by a Declaration of Duties. The
observation discovered a mind that reflected, and it only erred by not
reflecting far enough. A Declaration of Rights is, by reciprocity, a
Declaration of Duties also. Whatever is my right as a man is also
the right of another; and it becomes my duty to guarantee as well as
to possess.

  The three first articles are the base of Liberty, as well individual
as national; nor can any country be called free whose government
does not take its beginning from the principles they contain, and
continue to preserve them pure; and the whole of the Declaration of
Rights is of more value to the world, and will do more good, than
all the laws and statutes that have yet been promulgated.

  In the declaratory exordium which prefaces the Declaration of Rights
we see the solemn and majestic spectacle of a nation opening its
commission, under the auspices of its Creator, to establish a
Government, a scene so new, and so transcendantly unequalled by
anything in the European world, that the name of a Revolution is
diminutive of its character, and it rises into a Regeneration of
man. What are the present Governments of Europe but a scene of
iniquity and oppression? What is that of England? Do not its own
inhabitants say it is a market where every man has his price, and
where corruption is common traffic at the expense of a deluded people?
No wonder, then, that the French Revolution is traduced. Had it
confined itself merely to the destruction of flagrant despotism
perhaps Mr. Burke and some others had been silent. Their cry now is,
"It has gone too far"- that is, it has gone too far for them. It
stares corruption in the face, and the venal tribe are all alarmed.
Their fear discovers itself in their outrage, and they are but
publishing the groans of a wounded vice. But from such opposition
the French Revolution, instead of suffering, receives an homage. The
more it is struck the more sparks it will emit; and the fear is it
will not be struck enough. It has nothing to dread from attacks; truth
has given it an establishment, and time will record it with a name
as lasting as his own.

  Having now traced the progress of the French Revolution through most
of its principal stages, from its commencement to the taking of the
Bastille, and its establishment by the Declaration of Rights, I will
close the subject with the energetic apostrophe of M. de la Fayette-

  "May this great monument, raised to Liberty, serve as a lesson to
the oppressor, and an example to the oppressed!"*[11]

  Miscellaneous Chapter

  To prevent interrupting the argument in the preceding part of this
work, or the narrative that follows it, I reserved some observations
to be thrown together in a Miscellaneous Chapter; by which variety
might not be censured for confusion. Mr. Burke's book is all
Miscellany. His intention was to make an attack on the French
Revolution; but instead of proceeding with an orderly arrangement,
he has stormed it with a mob of ideas tumbling over and destroying one
another.

  But this confusion and contradiction in Mr. Burke's Book is easily
accounted for.- When a man in a wrong cause attempts to steer his
course by anything else than some polar truth or principle, he is sure
to be lost. It is beyond the compass of his capacity to keep all the
parts of an argument together, and make them unite in one issue, by
any other means than having this guide always in view. Neither
memory nor invention will supply the want of it. The former fails him,
and the latter betrays him.

  Notwithstanding the nonsense, for it deserves no better name, that
Mr. Burke has asserted about hereditary rights, and hereditary
succession, and that a Nation has not a right to form a Government
of itself; it happened to fall in his way to give some account of what
Government is. "Government," says he, "is a contrivance of human
wisdom.

  Admitting that government is a contrivance of human wisdom, it
must necessarily follow, that hereditary succession, and hereditary
rights (as they are called), can make no part of it, because it is
impossible to make wisdom hereditary; and on the other hand, that
cannot be a wise contrivance, which in its operation may commit the
government of a nation to the wisdom of an idiot. The ground which Mr.
Burke now takes is fatal to every part of his cause. The argument
changes from hereditary rights to hereditary wisdom; and the
question is, Who is the wisest man? He must now show that every one in
the line of hereditary succession was a Solomon, or his title is not
good to be a king. What a stroke has Mr. Burke now made! To use a
sailor's phrase, he has swabbed the deck, and scarcely left a name
legible in the list of Kings; and he has mowed down and thinned the
House of Peers, with a scythe as formidable as Death and Time.

  But Mr. Burke appears to have been aware of this retort; and he
has taken care to guard against it, by making government to be not
only a contrivance of human wisdom, but a monopoly of wisdom. He
puts the nation as fools on one side, and places his government of
wisdom, all wise men of Gotham, on the other side; and he then
proclaims, and says that "Men have a RIGHT that their WANTS should
be provided for by this wisdom." Having thus made proclamation, he
next proceeds to explain to them what their wants are, and also what
their rights are. In this he has succeeded dextrously, for he makes
their wants to be a want of wisdom; but as this is cold comfort, he
then informs them, that they have a right (not to any of the wisdom)
but to be governed by it; and in order to impress them with a solemn
reverence for this monopoly-government of wisdom, and of its vast
capacity for all purposes, possible or impossible, right or wrong,
he proceeds with astrological mysterious importance, to tell to them
its powers in these words: "The rights of men in government are
their advantages; and these are often in balance between differences
of good; and in compromises sometimes between good and evil, and
sometimes between evil and evil. Political reason is a computing
principle; adding- subtracting- multiplying- and dividing, morally and
not metaphysically or mathematically, true moral denominations."

  As the wondering audience, whom Mr. Burke supposes himself talking
to, may not understand all this learned jargon, I will undertake to be
its interpreter. The meaning, then, good people, of all this, is: That
government is governed by no principle whatever; that it can make evil
good, or good evil, just as it pleases. In short, that government is
arbitrary power.

  But there are some things which Mr. Burke has forgotten. First, he
has not shown where the wisdom originally came from: and secondly,
he has not shown by what authority it first began to act. In the
manner he introduces the matter, it is either government stealing
wisdom, or wisdom stealing government. It is without an origin, and
its powers without authority. In short, it is usurpation.

  Whether it be from a sense of shame, or from a consciousness of some
radical defect in a government necessary to be kept out of sight, or
from both, or from any other cause, I undertake not to determine,
but so it is, that a monarchical reasoner never traces government to
its source, or from its source. It is one of the shibboleths by
which he may be known. A thousand years hence, those who shall live in
America or France, will look back with contemplative pride on the
origin of their government, and say, This was the work of our glorious
ancestors! But what can a monarchical talker say? What has he to exult
in? Alas he has nothing. A certain something forbids him to look
back to a beginning, lest some robber, or some Robin Hood, should rise
from the long obscurity of time and say, I am the origin. Hard as
Mr. Burke laboured at the Regency Bill and Hereditary Succession two
years ago, and much as he dived for precedents, he still had not
boldness enough to bring up William of Normandy, and say, There is the
head of the list! there is the fountain of honour! the son of a
prostitute, and the plunderer of the English nation.

  The opinions of men with respect to government are changing fast
in all countries. The Revolutions of America and France have thrown
a beam of light over the world, which reaches into man. The enormous
expense of governments has provoked people to think, by making them
feel; and when once the veil begins to rend, it admits not of
repair. Ignorance is of a peculiar nature: once dispelled, it is
impossible to re-establish it. It is not originally a thing of itself,
but is only the absence of knowledge; and though man may be kept
ignorant, he cannot be made ignorant. The mind, in discovering
truth, acts in the same manner as it acts through the eye in
discovering objects; when once any object has been seen, it is
impossible to put the mind back to the same condition it was in before
it saw it. Those who talk of a counter-revolution in France, show
how little they understand of man. There does not exist in the compass
of language an arrangement of words to express so much as the means of
effecting a counter-revolution. The means must be an obliteration of
knowledge; and it has never yet been discovered how to make man unknow
his knowledge, or unthink his thoughts.

  Mr. Burke is labouring in vain to stop the progress of knowledge;
and it comes with the worse grace from him, as there is a certain
transaction known in the city which renders him suspected of being a
pensioner in a fictitious name. This may account for some strange
doctrine he has advanced in his book, which though he points it at the
Revolution Society, is effectually directed against the whole nation.

  "The King of England," says he, "holds his crown (for it does not
belong to the Nation, according to Mr. Burke) in contempt of the
choice of the Revolution Society, who have not a single vote for a
king among them either individually or collectively; and his Majesty's
heirs each in their time and order, will come to the Crown with the
same contempt of their choice, with which his Majesty has succeeded to
that which he now wears."

  As to who is King in England, or elsewhere, or whether there is
any King at all, or whether the people choose a Cherokee chief, or a
Hessian hussar for a King, it is not a matter that I trouble myself
about- be that to themselves; but with respect to the doctrine, so far
as it relates to the Rights of Men and Nations, it is as abominable as
anything ever uttered in the most enslaved country under heaven.
Whether it sounds worse to my ear, by not being accustomed to hear
such despotism, than what it does to another person, I am not so
well a judge of; but of its abominable principle I am at no loss to
judge.

  It is not the Revolution Society that Mr. Burke means; it is the
Nation, as well in its original as in its representative character;
and he has taken care to make himself understood, by saying that
they have not a vote either collectively or individually. The
Revolution Society is composed of citizens of all denominations, and
of members of both the Houses of Parliament; and consequently, if
there is not a right to a vote in any of the characters, there can
be no right to any either in the nation or in its Parliament. This
ought to be a caution to every country how to import foreign
families to be kings. It is somewhat curious to observe, that although
the people of England had been in the habit of talking about kings, it
is always a Foreign House of Kings; hating Foreigners yet governed
by them.- It is now the House of Brunswick, one of the petty tribes of
Germany.

  It has hitherto been the practice of the English Parliaments to
regulate what was called the succession (taking it for granted that
the Nation then continued to accord to the form of annexing a
monarchical branch of its government; for without this the
Parliament could not have had authority to have sent either to Holland
or to Hanover, or to impose a king upon the nation against its
will). And this must be the utmost limit to which Parliament can go
upon this case; but the right of the Nation goes to the whole case,
because it has the right of changing its whole form of government. The
right of a Parliament is only a right in trust, a right by delegation,
and that but from a very small part of the Nation; and one of its
Houses has not even this. But the right of the Nation is an original
right, as universal as taxation. The nation is the paymaster of
everything, and everything must conform to its general will.

  I remember taking notice of a speech in what is called the English
House of Peers, by the then Earl of Shelburne, and I think it was at
the time he was Minister, which is applicable to this case. I do not
directly charge my memory with every particular; but the words and the
purport, as nearly as I remember, were these: "That the form of a
Government was a matter wholly at the will of the Nation at all times,
that if it chose a monarchical form, it had a right to have it so; and
if it afterwards chose to be a Republic, it had a right to be a
Republic, and to say to a King, "We have no longer any occasion for
you."

  When Mr. Burke says that "His Majesty's heirs and successors, each
in their time and order, will come to the crown with the same
content of their choice with which His Majesty had succeeded to that
he wears," it is saying too much even to the humblest individual in
the country; part of whose daily labour goes towards making up the
million sterling a-year, which the country gives the person it
styles a king. Government with insolence is despotism; but when
contempt is added it becomes worse; and to pay for contempt is the
excess of slavery. This species of government comes from Germany;
and reminds me of what one of the Brunswick soldiers told me, who
was taken prisoner by, the Americans in the late war: "Ah!" said he,
"America is a fine free country, it is worth the people's fighting
for; I know the difference by knowing my own: in my country, if the
prince says eat straw, we eat straw." God help that country, thought
I, be it England or elsewhere, whose liberties are to be protected
by German principles of government, and Princes of Brunswick!

  As Mr. Burke sometimes speaks of England, sometimes of France, and
sometimes of the world, and of government in general, it is
difficult to answer his book without apparently meeting him on the
same ground. Although principles of Government are general subjects,
it is next to impossible, in many cases, to separate them from the
idea of place and circumstance, and the more so when circumstances are
put for arguments, which is frequently the case with Mr. Burke.

  In the former part of his book, addressing himself to the people
of France, he says: "No experience has taught us (meaning the
English), that in any other course or method than that of a hereditary
crown, can our liberties be regularly perpetuated and preserved sacred
as our hereditary right." I ask Mr. Burke, who is to take them away?
M. de la Fayette, in speaking to France, says: "For a Nation to be
free, it is sufficient that she wills it." But Mr. Burke represents
England as wanting capacity to take care of itself, and that its
liberties must be taken care of by a King holding it in "contempt." If
England is sunk to this, it is preparing itself to eat straw, as in
Hanover, or in Brunswick. But besides the folly of the declaration, it
happens that the facts are all against Mr. Burke. It was by the
government being hereditary, that the liberties of the people were
endangered. Charles I. and James II. are instances of this truth;
yet neither of them went so far as to hold the Nation in contempt.

  As it is sometimes of advantage to the people of one country to hear
what those of other countries have to say respecting it, it is
possible that the people of France may learn something from Mr.
Burke's book, and that the people of England may also learn
something from the answers it will occasion. When Nations fall out
about freedom, a wide field of debate is opened. The argument
commences with the rights of war, without its evils, and as
knowledge is the object contended for, the party that sustains the
defeat obtains the prize.

  Mr. Burke talks about what he calls an hereditary crown, as if it
were some production of Nature; or as if, like Time, it had a power to
operate, not only independently, but in spite of man; or as if it were
a thing or a subject universally consented to. Alas! it has none of
those properties, but is the reverse of them all. It is a thing in
imagination, the propriety of which is more than doubted, and the
legality of which in a few years will be denied.

  But, to arrange this matter in a clearer view than what general
expression can heads under which (what is called) an hereditary crown,
or more properly speaking, an hereditary succession to the
Government of a Nation, can be considered; which are-

  First, The right of a particular Family to establish itself.

  Secondly, The right of a Nation to establish a particular Family.

  With respect to the first of these heads, that of a Family
establishing itself with hereditary powers on its own authority, and
independent of the consent of a Nation, all men will concur in calling
it despotism; and it would be trespassing on their understanding to
attempt to prove it.

  But the second head, that of a Nation establishing a particular
Family with hereditary powers, does not present itself as despotism on
the first reflection; but if men will permit it a second reflection to
take place, and carry that reflection forward but one remove out of
their own persons to that of their offspring, they will then see
that hereditary succession becomes in its consequences the same
despotism to others, which they reprobated for themselves. It operates
to preclude the consent of the succeeding generations; and the
preclusion of consent is despotism. When the person who at any time
shall be in possession of a Government, or those who stand in
succession to him, shall say to a Nation, I hold this power in
"contempt" of you, it signifies not on what authority he pretends to
say it. It is no relief, but an aggravation to a person in slavery, to
reflect that he was sold by his parent; and as that which heightens
the criminality of an act cannot be produced to prove the legality
of it, hereditary succession cannot be established as a legal thing.

  In order to arrive at a more perfect decision on this head, it
will be proper to consider the generation which undertakes to
establish a Family with hereditary powers, apart and separate from the
generations which are to follow; and also to consider the character in
which the first generation acts with respect to succeeding
generations.

  The generation which first selects a person, and puts him at the
head of its Government, either with the title of King, or any other
distinction, acts on its own choice, be it wise or foolish, as a
free agent for itself The person so set up is not hereditary, but
selected and appointed; and the generation who sets him up, does not
live under a hereditary government, but under a government of its
own choice and establishment. Were the generation who sets him up, and
the person so set up, to live for ever, it never could become
hereditary succession; and of consequence hereditary succession can
only follow on the death of the first parties.

  As, therefore, hereditary succession is out of the question with
respect to the first generation, we have now to consider the character
in which that generation acts with respect to the commencing
generation, and to all succeeding ones.

  It assumes a character, to which it has neither right nor title.
It changes itself from a Legislator to a Testator, and effects to make
its Will, which is to have operation after the demise of the makers,
to bequeath the Government; and it not only attempts to bequeath, but
to establish on the succeeding generation, a new and different form of
Government under which itself lived. Itself, as already observed,
lived not under a hereditary Government but under a Government of
its own choice and establishment; and it now attempts, by virtue of
a will and testament (and which it has not authority to make), to take
from the commencing generation, and all future ones, the rights and
free agency by which itself acted.

  But, exclusive of the right which any generation has to act
collectively as a testator, the objects to which it applies itself
in this case, are not within the compass of any law, or of any will or
testament.

  The rights of men in society, are neither devisable or transferable,
nor annihilable, but are descendable only, and it is not in the
power of any generation to intercept finally, and cut off the descent.
If the present generation, or any other, are disposed to be slaves, it
does not lessen the right of the succeeding generation to be free.
Wrongs cannot have a legal descent. When Mr. Burke attempts to
maintain that the English nation did at the Revolution of 1688, most
solemnly renounce and abdicate their rights for themselves, and for
all their posterity for ever, he speaks a language that merits not
reply, and which can only excite contempt for his prostitute
principles, or pity for his ignorance.

  In whatever light hereditary succession, as growing out of the
will and testament of some former generation, presents itself, it is
an absurdity. A cannot make a will to take from B the property of B,
and give it to C; yet this is the manner in which (what is called)
hereditary succession by law operates. A certain former generation
made a will, to take away the rights of the commencing generation, and
all future ones, and convey those rights to a third person, who
afterwards comes forward, and tells them, in Mr. Burke's language,
that they have no rights, that their rights are already bequeathed
to him and that he will govern in contempt of them. From such
principles, and such ignorance, good Lord deliver the world!

  But, after all, what is this metaphor called a crown, or rather what
is monarchy? Is it a thing, or is it a name, or is it a fraud? Is it a
"contrivance of human wisdom," or of human craft to obtain money
from a nation under specious pretences? Is it a thing necessary to a
nation? If it is, in what does that necessity consist, what service
does it perform, what is its business, and what are its merits? Does
the virtue consist in the metaphor, or in the man? Doth the
goldsmith that makes the crown, make the virtue also? Doth it
operate like Fortunatus's wishing-cap, or Harlequin's wooden sword?
Doth it make a man a conjurer? In fine, what is it? It appears to be
something going much out of fashion, falling into ridicule, and
rejected in some countries, both as unnecessary and expensive. In
America it is considered as an absurdity; and in France it has so
far declined, that the goodness of the man, and the respect for his
personal character, are the only things that preserve the appearance
of its existence.

  If government be what Mr. Burke describes it, "a contrivance of
human wisdom" I might ask him, if wisdom was at such a low ebb in
England, that it was become necessary to import it from Holland and
from Hanover? But I will do the country the justice to say, that was
not the case; and even if it was it mistook the cargo. The wisdom of
every country, when properly exerted, is sufficient for all its
purposes; and there could exist no more real occasion in England to
have sent for a Dutch Stadtholder, or a German Elector, than there was
in America to have done a similar thing. If a country does not
understand its own affairs, how is a foreigner to understand them, who
knows neither its laws, its manners, nor its language? If there
existed a man so transcendently wise above all others, that his wisdom
was necessary to instruct a nation, some reason might be offered for
monarchy; but when we cast our eyes about a country, and observe how
every part understands its own affairs; and when we look around the
world, and see that of all men in it, the race of kings are the most
insignificant in capacity, our reason cannot fail to ask us- What
are those men kept for?

  If there is anything in monarchy which we people of America do not
understand, I wish Mr. Burke would be so kind as to inform us. I see
in America, a government extending over a country ten times as large
as England, and conducted with regularity, for a fortieth part of
the expense which Government costs in England. If I ask a man in
America if he wants a King, he retorts, and asks me if I take him
for an idiot? How is it that this difference happens? are we more or
less wise than others? I see in America the generality of people
living in a style of plenty unknown in monarchical countries; and I
see that the principle of its government, which is that of the equal
Rights of Man, is making a rapid progress in the world.

  If monarchy is a useless thing, why is it kept up anywhere? and if a
necessary thing, how can it be dispensed with? That civil government
is necessary, all civilized nations will agree; but civil government
is republican government. All that part of the government of England
which begins with the office of constable, and proceeds through the
department of magistrate, quarter-sessions, and general assize,
including trial by jury, is republican government. Nothing of monarchy
appears in any part of it, except in the name which William the
Conqueror imposed upon the English, that of obliging them to call
him "Their Sovereign Lord the King."

  It is easy to conceive that a band of interested men, such as
Placemen, Pensioners, Lords of the bed-chamber, Lords of the
kitchen, Lords of the necessary-house, and the Lord knows what
besides, can find as many reasons for monarchy as their salaries, paid
at the expense of the country, amount to; but if I ask the farmer, the
manufacturer, the merchant, the tradesman, and down through all the
occupations of life to the common labourer, what service monarchy is
to him? he can give me no answer. If I ask him what monarchy is, he
believes it is something like a sinecure.

  Notwithstanding the taxes of England amount to almost seventeen
millions a year, said to be for the expenses of Government, it is
still evident that the sense of the Nation is left to govern itself,
and does govern itself, by magistrates and juries, almost at its own
charge, on republican principles, exclusive of the expense of taxes.
The salaries of the judges are almost the only charge that is paid out
of the revenue. Considering that all the internal government is
executed by the people, the taxes of England ought to be the
lightest of any nation in Europe; instead of which, they are the
contrary. As this cannot be accounted for on the score of civil
government, the subject necessarily extends itself to the
monarchical part.

  When the people of England sent for George the First (and it would
puzzle a wiser man than Mr. Burke to discover for what he could be
wanted, or what service he could render), they ought at least to
have conditioned for the abandonment of Hanover. Besides the endless
German intrigues that must follow from a German Elector being King
of England, there is a natural impossibility of uniting in the same
person the principles of Freedom and the principles of Despotism, or
as it is usually called in England Arbitrary Power. A German Elector
is in his electorate a despot; how then could it be expected that he
should be attached to principles of liberty in one country, while
his interest in another was to be supported by despotism? The union
cannot exist; and it might easily have been foreseen that German
Electors would make German Kings, or in Mr. Burke's words, would
assume government with "contempt." The English have been in the
habit of considering a King of England only in the character in
which he appears to them; whereas the same person, while the
connection lasts, has a home-seat in another country, the interest
of which is different to their own, and the principles of the
governments in opposition to each other. To such a person England will
appear as a town-residence, and the Electorate as the estate. The
English may wish, as I believe they do, success to the principles of
liberty in France, or in Germany; but a German Elector trembles for
the fate of despotism in his electorate; and the Duchy of
Mecklenburgh, where the present Queen's family governs, is under the
same wretched state of arbitrary power, and the people in slavish
vassalage.

  There never was a time when it became the English to watch
continental intrigues more circumspectly than at the present moment,
and to distinguish the politics of the Electorate from the politics of
the Nation. The Revolution of France has entirely changed the ground
with respect to England and France, as nations; but the German
despots, with Prussia at their head, are combining against liberty;
and the fondness of Mr. Pitt for office, and the interest which all
his family connections have obtained, do not give sufficient
security against this intrigue.

  As everything which passes in the world becomes matter for
history, I will now quit this subject, and take a concise review of
the state of parties and politics in England, as Mr. Burke has done in
France.

  Whether the present reign commenced with contempt, I leave to Mr.
Burke: certain, however, it is, that it had strongly that
appearance. The animosity of the English nation, it is very well
remembered, ran high; and, had the true principles of Liberty been
as well understood then as they now promise to be, it is probable
the Nation would not have patiently submitted to so much. George the
First and Second were sensible of a rival in the remains of the
Stuarts; and as they could not but consider themselves as standing
on their good behaviour, they had prudence to keep their German
principles of government to themselves; but as the Stuart family
wore away, the prudence became less necessary.

  The contest between rights, and what were called prerogatives,
continued to heat the nation till some time after the conclusion of
the American War, when all at once it fell a calm- Execration
exchanged itself for applause, and Court popularity sprung up like a
mushroom in a night.

  To account for this sudden transition, it is proper to observe
that there are two distinct species of popularity; the one excited
by merit, and the other by resentment. As the Nation had formed itself
into two parties, and each was extolling the merits of its
parliamentary champions for and against prerogative, nothing could
operate to give a more general shock than an immediate coalition of
the champions themselves. The partisans of each being thus suddenly
left in the lurch, and mutually heated with disgust at the measure,
felt no other relief than uniting in a common execration against both.
A higher stimulus or resentment being thus excited than what the
contest on prerogatives occasioned, the nation quitted all former
objects of rights and wrongs, and sought only that of gratification.
The indignation at the Coalition so effectually superseded the
indignation against the Court as to extinguish it; and without any
change of principles on the part of the Court, the same people who had
reprobated its despotism united with it to revenge themselves on the
Coalition Parliament. The case was not, which they liked best, but
which they hated most; and the least hated passed for love. The
dissolution of the Coalition Parliament, as it afforded the means of
gratifying the resentment of the Nation, could not fail to be popular;
and from hence arose the popularity of the Court.

  Transitions of this kind exhibit a Nation under the government of
temper, instead of a fixed and steady principle; and having once
committed itself, however rashly, it feels itself urged along to
justify by continuance its first proceeding. Measures which at other
times it would censure it now approves, and acts persuasion upon
itself to suffocate its judgment.

  On the return of a new Parliament, the new Minister, Mr. Pitt, found
himself in a secure majority; and the Nation gave him credit, not
out of regard to himself, but because it had resolved to do it out
of resentment to another. He introduced himself to public notice by
a proposed Reform of Parliament, which in its operation would have
amounted to a public justification of corruption. The Nation was to be
at the expense of buying up the rotten boroughs, whereas it ought to
punish the persons who deal in the traffic.

  Passing over the two bubbles of the Dutch business and the million
a-year to sink the national debt, the matter which most presents
itself, is the affair of the Regency. Never, in the course of my
observation, was delusion more successfully acted, nor a nation more
completely deceived. But, to make this appear, it will be necessary to
go over the circumstances.

  Mr. Fox had stated in the House of Commons, that the Prince of
Wales, as heir in succession, had a right in himself to assume the
Government. This was opposed by Mr. Pitt; and, so far as the
opposition was confined to the doctrine, it was just. But the
principles which Mr. Pitt maintained on the contrary side were as bad,
or worse in their extent, than those of Mr. Fox; because they went
to establish an aristocracy over the nation, and over the small
representation it has in the House of Commons.

  Whether the English form of Government be good or bad, is not in
this case the question; but, taking it as it stands, without regard to
its merits or demerits, Mr. Pitt was farther from the point than Mr.
Fox.

  It is supposed to consist of three parts:- while therefore the
Nation is disposed to continue this form, the parts have a national
standing, independent of each other, and are not the creatures of each
other. Had Mr. Fox passed through Parliament, and said that the person
alluded to claimed on the, ground of the Nation, Mr. Pitt must then
have contended what he called the right of the Parliament against
the right of the Nation.

  By the appearance which the contest made, Mr. Fox took the
hereditary ground, and Mr. Pitt the Parliamentary ground; but the fact
is, they both took hereditary ground, and Mr. Pitt took the worst of
the two.

  What is called the Parliament is made up of two Houses, one of which
is more hereditary, and more beyond the control of the Nation than
what the Crown (as it is called) is supposed to be. It is an
hereditary aristocracy, assuming and asserting indefeasible,
irrevocable rights and authority, wholly independent of the Nation.
Where, then, was the merited popularity of exalting this hereditary
power over another hereditary power less independent of the Nation
than what itself assumed to be, and of absorbing the rights of the
Nation into a House over which it has neither election nor control?

  The general impulse of the Nation was right; but it acted without
reflection. It approved the opposition made to the right set up by Mr.
Fox, without perceiving that Mr. Pitt was supporting another
indefeasible right more remote from the Nation, in opposition to it.

  With respect to the House of Commons, it is elected but by a small
part of the Nation; but were the election as universal as taxation,
which it ought to be, it would still be only the organ of the
Nation, and cannot possess inherent rights.- When the National
Assembly of France resolves a matter, the resolve is made in right
of the Nation; but Mr. Pitt, on all national questions, so far as they
refer to the House of Commons, absorbs the rights of the Nation into
the organ, and makes the organ into a Nation, and the Nation itself
into a cypher.

  In a few words, the question on the Regency was a question of a
million a-year, which is appropriated to the executive department: and
Mr. Pitt could not possess himself of any management of this sum,
without setting up the supremacy of Parliament; and when this was
accomplished, it was indifferent who should be Regent, as he must be
Regent at his own cost. Among the curiosities which this contentious
debate afforded, was that of making the Great Seal into a King, the
affixing of which to an act was to be royal authority. If,
therefore, Royal Authority is a Great Seal, it consequently is in
itself nothing; and a good Constitution would be of infinitely more
value to the Nation than what the three Nominal Powers, as they now
stand, are worth.

  The continual use of the word Constitution in the English Parliament
shows there is none; and that the whole is merely a form of government
without a Constitution, and constituting itself with what powers it
pleases. If there were a Constitution, it certainly could be
referred to; and the debate on any constitutional point would
terminate by producing the Constitution. One member says this is
Constitution, and another says that is Constitution- To-day it is
one thing; and to-morrow something else- while the maintaining of
the debate proves there is none. Constitution is now the cant word
of Parliament, tuning itself to the ear of the Nation. Formerly it was
the universal supremacy of Parliament- the omnipotence of
Parliament: But since the progress of Liberty in France, those phrases
have a despotic harshness in their note; and the English Parliament
have catched the fashion from the National Assembly, but without the
substance, of speaking of Constitution.

  As the present generation of the people in England did not make
the Government, they are not accountable for any of its defects;
but, that sooner or later, it must come into their hands to undergo
a constitutional reformation, is as certain as that the same thing has
happened in France. If France, with a revenue of nearly twenty-four
millions sterling, with an extent of rich and fertile country above
four times larger than England, with a population of twenty-four
millions of inhabitants to support taxation, with upwards of ninety
millions sterling of gold and silver circulating in the nation, and
with a debt less than the present debt of England- still found it
necessary, from whatever cause, to come to a settlement of its
affairs, it solves the problem of funding for both countries.

  It is out of the question to say how long what is called the English
constitution has lasted, and to argue from thence how long it is to
last; the question is, how long can the funding system last? It is a
thing but of modern invention, and has not yet continued beyond the
life of a man; yet in that short space it has so far accumulated,
that, together with the current expenses, it requires an amount of
taxes at least equal to the whole landed rental of the nation in acres
to defray the annual expenditure. That a government could not have
always gone on by the same system which has been followed for the last
seventy years, must be evident to every man; and for the same reason
it cannot always go on.

  The funding system is not money; neither is it, properly speaking,
credit. It, in effect, creates upon paper the sum which it appears
to borrow, and lays on a tax to keep the imaginary capital alive by
the payment of interest and sends the annuity to market, to be sold
for paper already in circulation. If any credit is given, it is to the
disposition of the people to pay the tax, and not to the government,
which lays it on. When this disposition expires, what is supposed to
be the credit of Government expires with it. The instance of France
under the former Government shows that it is impossible to compel
the payment of taxes by force, when a whole nation is determined to
take its stand upon that ground.

  Mr. Burke, in his review of the finances of France, states the
quantity of gold and silver in France, at about eighty-eight
millions sterling. In doing this, he has, I presume, divided by the
difference of exchange, instead of the standard of twenty-four
livres to a pound sterling; for M. Neckar's statement, from which
Mr. Burke's is taken, is two thousand two hundred millions of
livres, which is upwards of ninety-one millions and a half sterling.

  M. Neckar in France, and Mr. George Chalmers at the Office of
Trade and Plantation in England, of which Lord Hawkesbury is
president, published nearly about the same time (1786) an account of
the quantity of money in each nation, from the returns of the Mint
of each nation. Mr. Chalmers, from the returns of the English Mint
at the Tower of London, states the quantity of money in England,
including Scotland and Ireland, to be twenty millions sterling.*[12]

  M. Neckar*[13] says that the amount of money in France, recoined
from the old coin which was called in, was two thousand five hundred
millions of livres (upwards of one hundred and four millions
sterling); and, after deducting for waste, and what may be in the West
Indies and other possible circumstances, states the circulation
quantity at home to be ninety-one millions and a half sterling; but,
taking it as Mr. Burke has put it, it is sixty-eight millions more
than the national quantity in England.

  That the quantity of money in France cannot be under this sum, may
at once be seen from the state of the French Revenue, without
referring to the records of the French Mint for proofs. The revenue of
France, prior to the Revolution, was nearly twenty-four millions
sterling; and as paper had then no existence in France the whole
revenue was collected upon gold and silver; and it would have been
impossible to have collected such a quantity of revenue upon a less
national quantity than M. Neckar has stated. Before the
establishment of paper in England, the revenue was about a fourth part
of the national amount of gold and silver, as may be known by
referring to the revenue prior to King William, and the quantity of
money stated to be in the nation at that time, which was nearly as
much as it is now.

  It can be of no real service to a nation, to impose upon itself,
or to permit itself to be imposed upon; but the prejudices of some,
and the imposition of others, have always represented France as a
nation possessing but little money- whereas the quantity is not only
more than four times what the quantity is in England, but is
considerably greater on a proportion of numbers. To account for this
deficiency on the part of England, some reference should be had to the
English system of funding. It operates to multiply paper, and to
substitute it in the room of money, in various shapes; and the more
paper is multiplied, the more opportunities are offered to export
the specie; and it admits of a possibility (by extending it to small
notes) of increasing paper till there is no money left.

  I know this is not a pleasant subject to English readers; but the
matters I am going to mention, are so important in themselves, as to
require the attention of men interested in money transactions of a
public nature. There is a circumstance stated by M. Neckar, in his
treatise on the administration of the finances, which has never been
attended to in England, but which forms the only basis whereon to
estimate the quantity of money (gold and silver) which ought to be
in every nation in Europe, to preserve a relative proportion with
other nations.

  Lisbon and Cadiz are the two ports into which (money) gold and
silver from South America are imported, and which afterwards divide
and spread themselves over Europe by means of commerce, and increase
the quantity of money in all parts of Europe. If, therefore, the
amount of the annual importation into Europe can be known, and the
relative proportion of the foreign commerce of the several nations
by which it can be distributed can be ascertained, they give a rule
sufficiently true, to ascertain the quantity of money which ought to
be found in any nation, at any given time.

  M. Neckar shows from the registers of Lisbon and Cadiz, that the
importation of gold and silver into Europe, is five millions
sterling annually. He has not taken it on a single year, but on an
average of fifteen succeeding years, from 1763 to 1777, both
inclusive; in which time, the amount was one thousand eight hundred
million livres, which is seventy-five millions sterling.*[14]

  From the commencement of the Hanover succession in 1714 to the
time Mr. Chalmers published, is seventy-two years; and the quantity
imported into Europe, in that time, would be three hundred and sixty
millions sterling.

  If the foreign commerce of Great Britain be stated at a sixth part
of what the whole foreign commerce of Europe amounts to (which is
probably an inferior estimation to what the gentlemen at the
Exchange would allow) the proportion which Britain should draw by
commerce of this sum, to keep herself on a proportion with the rest of
Europe, would be also a sixth part which is sixty millions sterling;
and if the same allowance for waste and accident be made for England
which M. Neckar makes for France, the quantity remaining after these
deductions would be fifty-two millions; and this sum ought to have
been in the nation (at the time Mr. Chalmers published), in addition
to the sum which was in the nation at the commencement of the
Hanover succession, and to have made in the whole at least sixty-six
millions sterling; instead of which there were but twenty millions,
which is forty-six millions below its proportionate quantity.

  As the quantity of gold and silver imported into Lisbon and Cadiz is
more exactly ascertained than that of any commodity imported into
England, and as the quantity of money coined at the Tower of London is
still more positively known, the leading facts do not admit of
controversy. Either, therefore, the commerce of England is
unproductive of profit, or the gold and silver which it brings in leak
continually away by unseen means at the average rate of about
three-quarters of a million a year, which, in the course of
seventy-two years, accounts for the deficiency; and its absence is
supplied by paper.*[15]

  The Revolution of France is attended with many novel
circumstances, not only in the political sphere, but in the circle
of money transactions. Among others, it shows that a government may be
in a state of insolvency and a nation rich. So far as the fact is
confined to the late Government of France, it was insolvent; because
the nation would no longer support its extravagance, and therefore
it could no longer support itself- but with respect to the nation
all the means existed. A government may be said to be insolvent
every time it applies to the nation to discharge its arrears. The
insolvency of the late Government of France and the present of England
differed in no other respect than as the dispositions of the people
differ. The people of France refused their aid to the old
Government; and the people of England submit to taxation without
inquiry. What is called the Crown in England has been insolvent
several times; the last of which, publicly known, was in May, 1777,
when it applied to the nation to discharge upwards of L600,000 private
debts, which otherwise it could not pay.

  It was the error of Mr. Pitt, Mr. Burke, and all those who were
unacquainted with the affairs of France to confound the French
nation with the French Government. The French nation, in effect,
endeavoured to render the late Government insolvent for the purpose of
taking government into its own hands: and it reserved its means for
the support of the new Government. In a country of such vast extent
and population as France the natural means cannot be wanting, and
the political means appear the instant the nation is disposed to
permit them. When Mr. Burke, in a speech last winter in the British
Parliament, "cast his eyes over the map of Europe, and saw a chasm
that once was France," he talked like a dreamer of dreams. The same
natural France existed as before, and all the natural means existed
with it. The only chasm was that the extinction of despotism had left,
and which was to be filled up with the Constitution more formidable in
resources than the power which had expired.

  Although the French Nation rendered the late Government insolvent,
it did not permit the insolvency to act towards the creditors; and the
creditors, considering the Nation as the real pay-master, and the
Government only as the agent, rested themselves on the nation, in
preference to the Government. This appears greatly to disturb Mr.
Burke, as the precedent is fatal to the policy by which governments
have supposed themselves secure. They have contracted debts, with a
view of attaching what is called the monied interest of a Nation to
their support; but the example in France shows that the permanent
security of the creditor is in the Nation, and not in the
Government; and that in all possible revolutions that may happen in
Governments, the means are always with the Nation, and the Nation
always in existence. Mr. Burke argues that the creditors ought to have
abided the fate of the Government which they trusted; but the National
Assembly considered them as the creditors of the Nation, and not of
the Government- of the master, and not of the steward.

  Notwithstanding the late government could not discharge the
current expenses, the present government has paid off a great part
of the capital. This has been accomplished by two means; the one by
lessening the expenses of government, and the other by the sale of the
monastic and ecclesiastical landed estates. The devotees and
penitent debauchees, extortioners and misers of former days, to ensure
themselves a better world than that they were about to leave, had
bequeathed immense property in trust to the priesthood for pious uses;
and the priesthood kept it for themselves. The National Assembly has
ordered it to be sold for the good of the whole nation, and the
priesthood to be decently provided for.

  In consequence of the revolution, the annual interest of the debt of
France will be reduced at least six millions sterling, by paying off
upwards of one hundred millions of the capital; which, with
lessening the former expenses of government at least three millions,
will place France in a situation worthy the imitation of Europe.

  Upon a whole review of the subject, how vast is the contrast!
While Mr. Burke has been talking of a general bankruptcy in France,
the National Assembly has been paying off the capital of its debt; and
while taxes have increased near a million a year in England, they have
lowered several millions a year in France. Not a word has either Mr.
Burke or Mr. Pitt said about the French affairs, or the state of the
French finances, in the present Session of Parliament. The subject
begins to be too well understood, and imposition serves no longer.

  There is a general enigma running through the whole of Mr. Burke's
book. He writes in a rage against the National Assembly; but what is
he enraged about? If his assertions were as true as they are
groundless, and that France by her Revolution, had annihilated her
power, and become what he calls a chasm, it might excite the grief
of a Frenchman (considering himself as a national man), and provoke
his rage against the National Assembly; but why should it excite the
rage of Mr. Burke? Alas! it is not the nation of France that Mr. Burke
means, but the Court; and every Court in Europe, dreading the same
fate, is in mourning. He writes neither in the character of a
Frenchman nor an Englishman, but in the fawning character of that
creature known in all countries, and a friend to none- a courtier.
Whether it be the Court of Versailles, or the Court of St. James, or
Carlton-House, or the Court in expectation, signifies not; for the
caterpillar principle of all Courts and Courtiers are alike. They form
a common policy throughout Europe, detached and separate from the
interest of Nations: and while they appear to quarrel, they agree to
plunder. Nothing can be more terrible to a Court or Courtier than
the Revolution of France. That which is a blessing to Nations is
bitterness to them: and as their existence depends on the duplicity of
a country, they tremble at the approach of principles, and dread the
precedent that threatens their overthrow.

  Conclusion

  Reason and Ignorance, the opposites of each other, influence the
great bulk of mankind. If either of these can be rendered sufficiently
extensive in a country, the machinery of Government goes easily on.
Reason obeys itself; and Ignorance submits to whatever is dictated
to it.

  The two modes of the Government which prevail in the world, are-

  First, Government by election and representation.

  Secondly, Government by hereditary succession.

  The former is generally known by the name of republic; the latter by
that of monarchy and aristocracy.

  Those two distinct and opposite forms erect themselves on the two
distinct and opposite bases of Reason and Ignorance.- As the
exercise of Government requires talents and abilities, and as
talents and abilities cannot have hereditary descent, it is evident
that hereditary succession requires a belief from man to which his
reason cannot subscribe, and which can only be established upon his
ignorance; and the more ignorant any country is, the better it is
fitted for this species of Government.

  On the contrary, Government, in a well-constituted republic,
requires no belief from man beyond what his reason can give. He sees
the rationale of the whole system, its origin and its operation; and
as it is best supported when best understood, the human faculties
act with boldness, and acquire, under this form of government, a
gigantic manliness.

  As, therefore, each of those forms acts on a different base, the one
moving freely by the aid of reason, the other by ignorance; we have
next to consider, what it is that gives motion to that species of
Government which is called mixed Government, or, as it is sometimes
ludicrously styled, a Government of this, that and t' other.

  The moving power in this species of Government is, of necessity,
Corruption. However imperfect election and representation may be in
mixed Governments, they still give exercise to a greater portion of
reason than is convenient to the hereditary Part; and therefore it
becomes necessary to buy the reason up. A mixed Government is an
imperfect everything, cementing and soldering the discordant parts
together by corruption, to act as a whole. Mr. Burke appears highly
disgusted that France, since she had resolved on a revolution, did not
adopt what he calls "A British Constitution"; and the regretful manner
in which he expresses himself on this occasion implies a suspicion
that the British Constitution needed something to keep its defects
in countenance.

  In mixed Governments there is no responsibility: the parts cover
each other till responsibility is lost; and the corruption which moves
the machine, contrives at the same time its own escape. When it is
laid down as a maxim, that a King can do no wrong, it places him in
a state of similar security with that of idiots and persons insane,
and responsibility is out of the question with respect to himself.
It then descends upon the Minister, who shelters himself under a
majority in Parliament, which, by places, pensions, and corruption, he
can always command; and that majority justifies itself by the same
authority with which it protects the Minister. In this rotatory
motion, responsibility is thrown off from the parts, and from the
whole.

  When there is a Part in a Government which can do no wrong, it
implies that it does nothing; and is only the machine of another
power, by whose advice and direction it acts. What is supposed to be
the King in the mixed Governments, is the Cabinet; and as the
Cabinet is always a part of the Parliament, and the members justifying
in one character what they advise and act in another, a mixed
Government becomes a continual enigma; entailing upon a country by the
quantity of corruption necessary to solder the parts, the expense of
supporting all the forms of government at once, and finally
resolving itself into a Government by Committee; in which the
advisers, the actors, the approvers, the justifiers, the persons
responsible, and the persons not responsible, are the same persons.

  By this pantomimical contrivance, and change of scene and character,
the parts help each other out in matters which neither of them
singly would assume to act. When money is to be obtained, the mass
of variety apparently dissolves, and a profusion of parliamentary
praises passes between the parts. Each admires with astonishment,
the wisdom, the liberality, the disinterestedness of the other: and
all of them breathe a pitying sigh at the burthens of the Nation.

  But in a well-constituted republic, nothing of this soldering,
praising, and pitying, can take place; the representation being
equal throughout the country, and complete in itself, however it may
be arranged into legislative and executive, they have all one and
the same natural source. The parts are not foreigners to each other,
like democracy, aristocracy, and monarchy. As there are no
discordant distinctions, there is nothing to corrupt by compromise,
nor confound by contrivance. Public measures appeal of themselves to
the understanding of the Nation, and, resting on their own merits,
disown any flattering applications to vanity. The continual whine of
lamenting the burden of taxes, however successfully it may be
practised in mixed Governments, is inconsistent with the sense and
spirit of a republic. If taxes are necessary, they are of course
advantageous; but if they require an apology, the apology itself
implies an impeachment. Why, then, is man thus imposed upon, or why
does he impose upon himself?

  When men are spoken of as kings and subjects, or when Government
is mentioned under the distinct and combined heads of monarchy,
aristocracy, and democracy, what is it that reasoning man is to
understand by the terms? If there really existed in the world two or
more distinct and separate elements of human power, we should then see
the several origins to which those terms would descriptively apply;
but as there is but one species of man, there can be but one element
of human power; and that element is man himself. Monarchy,
aristocracy, and democracy, are but creatures of imagination; and a
thousand such may be contrived as well as three.

  From the Revolutions of America and France, and the symptoms that
have appeared in other countries, it is evident that the opinion of
the world is changing with respect to systems of Government, and
that revolutions are not within the compass of political calculations.
The progress of time and circumstances, which men assign to the
accomplishment of great changes, is too mechanical to measure the
force of the mind, and the rapidity of reflection, by which
revolutions are generated: All the old governments have received a
shock from those that already appear, and which were once more
improbable, and are a greater subject of wonder, than a general
revolution in Europe would be now.

  When we survey the wretched condition of man, under the
monarchical and hereditary systems of Government, dragged from his
home by one power, or driven by another, and impoverished by taxes
more than by enemies, it becomes evident that those systems are bad,
and that a general revolution in the principle and construction of
Governments is necessary.

  What is government more than the management of the affairs of a
Nation? It is not, and from its nature cannot be, the property of
any particular man or family, but of the whole community, at whose
expense it is supported; and though by force and contrivance it has
been usurped into an inheritance, the usurpation cannot alter the
right of things. Sovereignty, as a matter of right, appertains to
the Nation only, and not to any individual; and a Nation has at all
times an inherent indefeasible right to abolish any form of Government
it finds inconvenient, and to establish such as accords with its
interest, disposition and happiness. The romantic and barbarous
distinction of men into Kings and subjects, though it may suit the
condition of courtiers, cannot that of citizens; and is exploded by
the principle upon which Governments are now founded. Every citizen is
a member of the Sovereignty, and, as such, can acknowledge no personal
subjection; and his obedience can be only to the laws.

  When men think of what Government is, they must necessarily
suppose it to possess a knowledge of all the objects and matters
upon which its authority is to be exercised. In this view of
Government, the republican system, as established by America and
France, operates to embrace the whole of a Nation; and the knowledge
necessary to the interest of all the parts, is to be found in the
center, which the parts by representation form: But the old
Governments are on a construction that excludes knowledge as well as
happiness; government by Monks, who knew nothing of the world beyond
the walls of a Convent, is as consistent as government by Kings.

  What were formerly called Revolutions, were little more than a
change of persons, or an alteration of local circumstances. They
rose and fell like things of course, and had nothing in their
existence or their fate that could influence beyond the spot that
produced them. But what we now see in the world, from the
Revolutions of America and France, are a renovation of the natural
order of things, a system of principles as universal as truth and
the existence of man, and combining moral with political happiness and
national prosperity.

  "I. Men are born, and always continue, free and equal in respect
of their rights. Civil distinctions, therefore, can be founded only on
public utility.

  "II. The end of all political associations is the preservation of
the natural and imprescriptible rights of man; and these rights are
liberty, property, security, and resistance of oppression.

  "III. The nation is essentially the source of all sovereignty; nor
can any INDIVIDUAL, or ANY BODY OF MEN, be entitled to any authority
which is not expressly derived from it."

  In these principles, there is nothing to throw a Nation into
confusion by inflaming ambition. They are calculated to call forth
wisdom and abilities, and to exercise them for the public good, and
not for the emolument or aggrandisement of particular descriptions
of men or families. Monarchical sovereignty, the enemy of mankind, and
the source of misery, is abolished; and the sovereignty itself is
restored to its natural and original place, the Nation. Were this
the case throughout Europe, the cause of wars would be taken away.

  It is attributed to Henry the Fourth of France, a man of enlarged
and benevolent heart, that he proposed, about the year 1610, a plan
for abolishing war in Europe. The plan consisted in constituting an
European Congress, or as the French authors style it, a Pacific
Republic; by appointing delegates from the several Nations who were to
act as a Court of arbitration in any disputes that might arise between
nation and nation.

  Had such a plan been adopted at the time it was proposed, the
taxes of England and France, as two of the parties, would have been at
least ten millions sterling annually to each Nation less than they
were at the commencement of the French Revolution.

  To conceive a cause why such a plan has not been adopted (and that
instead of a Congress for the purpose of preventing war, it has been
called only to terminate a war, after a fruitless expense of several
years) it will be necessary to consider the interest of Governments as
a distinct interest to that of Nations.

  Whatever is the cause of taxes to a Nation, becomes also the means
of revenue to Government. Every war terminates with an addition of
taxes, and consequently with an addition of revenue; and in any
event of war, in the manner they are now commenced and concluded,
the power and interest of Governments are increased. War, therefore,
from its productiveness, as it easily furnishes the pretence of
necessity for taxes and appointments to places and offices, becomes
a principal part of the system of old Governments; and to establish
any mode to abolish war, however advantageous it might be to
Nations, would be to take from such Government the most lucrative of
its branches. The frivolous matters upon which war is made, show the
disposition and avidity of Governments to uphold the system of war,
and betray the motives upon which they act.

  Why are not Republics plunged into war, but because the nature of
their Government does not admit of an interest distinct from that of
the Nation? Even Holland, though an ill-constructed Republic, and with
a commerce extending over the world, existed nearly a century
without war: and the instant the form of Government was changed in
France, the republican principles of peace and domestic prosperity and
economy arose with the new Government; and the same consequences would
follow the cause in other Nations.

  As war is the system of Government on the old construction, the
animosity which Nations reciprocally entertain, is nothing more than
what the policy of their Governments excites to keep up the spirit
of the system. Each Government accuses the other of perfidy, intrigue,
and ambition, as a means of heating the imagination of their
respective Nations, and incensing them to hostilities. Man is not
the enemy of man, but through the medium of a false system of
Government. Instead, therefore, of exclaiming against the ambition
of Kings, the exclamation should be directed against the principle
of such Governments; and instead of seeking to reform the
individual, the wisdom of a Nation should apply itself to reform the
system.

  Whether the forms and maxims of Governments which are still in
practice, were adapted to the condition of the world at the period
they were established, is not in this case the question. The older
they are, the less correspondence can they have with the present state
of things. Time, and change of circumstances and opinions, have the
same progressive effect in rendering modes of Government obsolete as
they have upon customs and manners.- Agriculture, commerce,
manufactures, and the tranquil arts, by which the prosperity of
Nations is best promoted, require a different system of Government,
and a different species of knowledge to direct its operations, than
what might have been required in the former condition of the world.

  As it is not difficult to perceive, from the enlightened state of
mankind, that hereditary Governments are verging to their decline, and
that Revolutions on the broad basis of national sovereignty and
Government by representation, are making their way in Europe, it would
be an act of wisdom to anticipate their approach, and produce
Revolutions by reason and accommodation, rather than commit them to
the issue of convulsions.

  From what we now see, nothing of reform in the political world ought
to be held improbable. It is an age of Revolutions, in which
everything may be looked for. The intrigue of Courts, by which the
system of war is kept up, may provoke a confederation of Nations to
abolish it: and an European Congress to patronise the progress of free
Government, and promote the civilisation of Nations with each other,
is an event nearer in probability, than once were the revolutions
and alliance of France and America.

                                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.

                               Your sincere,

                                    Affectionate Friend,
LONDON, Feb. 9, 1792                               THOMAS PAINE

  Preface

  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 another opportunity.

  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 condemn it.

  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.

                                         THOMAS PAINE

LONDON, Feb. 9, 1792

  Introduction

  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 think.

  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 contemplate redress.

  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.

  CHAPTER I

  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,*[16] 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
before him.

  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.

  CHAPTER II

  Of the Origin of the Present Old Governments

  It is impossible that such governments as have hitherto existed in
the world, could have commenced by any other means than a total
violation of every principle sacred and 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
inscription.

  It could have been no difficult thing in the early and solitary ages
of the world, while the chief employment of men was that of
attending flocks and herds, for a banditti of ruffians to 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.

  CHAPTER III

  Of the Old and New Systems of Government

  Nothing can appear more contradictory than the principles on which
the old governments began, and the condition to which society,
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 herds.

  With respect to the second head, that of being inadequate to the
purposes for which government is necessary, we have only to consider
what 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 succession?"

  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 discharge it.

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

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

  The representative system takes society and 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 it.

  Various forms of government have affected to style themselves a
republic. Poland calls itself a republic, which is an hereditary
aristocracy, with what is called an elective monarchy. Holland calls
itself a republic, which is chiefly 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 equal
inconveniences.

  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 them.*[17]

  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 literature.

  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 laughter.

  In the representative system of government, nothing of this can
happen. Like the nation itself, it possesses a perpetual stamina, as
well of body as of mind, and presents itself on the open theatre of
the world in a fair and manly manner. Whatever are its excellences
or 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. For example:

  In the American Federal Government, more power is delegated to the
President of the United States than to any other individual member
of Congress. He cannot, therefore, be elected to this office under the
age of thirty-five years. By this time the judgment of man becomes
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.

  CHAPTER IV

  Of Constitutions

  That men mean distinct and separate things when they speak of
constitutions and of governments, is evident; or why are those terms
distinctly and separately used? A constitution is not the act of a
government, but of a people 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 appear.

  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 federal government.

  The state of Pennsylvania, though nearly of the same extent of
territory as England, was then divided into only twelve counties. Each
of those counties had elected a committee at the 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 July, 1776.

  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
connected.

  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 was formed.

  Congress, at its two first meetings, in September 1774, and May
1775, was nothing more than a deputation from the legislatures of
the several provinces, afterwards states; and had no other authority
than what arose from common consent, and the necessity of its acting
as a public body. In 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 restrains power?

  It is not because a part of the government is elective, that makes
it less a despotism, if the persons so elected possess afterwards,
as a 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,*[18] 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.*[19]

  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 life.

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

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

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

  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 better.*[20]

  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 of
judicature.

  I leave to courtiers to explain what is meant by calling monarchy
the executive power. It is merely a name in which acts of government
are done; and any other, or none at all, would answer the same
purpose. Laws have neither more nor less authority on this account. It
must be from the justness of their principles, and the interest
which a nation feels therein, that they derive support; if 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
generally good.

  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 illustrations.

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

  Thirdly, That two houses arbitrarily checking or 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.*[21]

  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.*[22]

  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 Assembly.

  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.*[23]

  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
observations.

  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 public taxes.

  When once such a vicious system is established it becomes the
guard and protection of all inferior abuses. The man who is in the
receipt of a 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.*[24]

  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 constitutional powers.

  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 itself.

  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.

  CHAPTER V

  WAYS AND MEANS OF IMPROVING THE CONDITION OF EUROPE INTERSPERSED
WITH MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS

  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.*[25] 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 exchange.

  If a merchant in England sends an article of English manufacture
abroad which costs him a shilling at home, and imports something which
sells for two, he makes a balance of one shilling in his 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
divided.

  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 reform.*[26]

  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 from
countries?

  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*[27] 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.*[28]

  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 Government.

  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.*[29]

  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 L1,950,000, which is half-a-million less than it produced
almost a hundred years ago,*[30] 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, L1,666,152, 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 concern.

  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 branches.

  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 extravagance.

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

    Annual taxes levied by William the Conqueror,

                           beginning in the year 1066    L400,000

    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.*[31]

  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 place.

  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                             L 1,950,000

     Customs                                3,789,274

     Excise (including old and new malt)    6,751,727

     Stamps                                 1,278,214

     Miscellaneous taxes and incidents      1,803,755

                                          -----------

                                          L15,572,755

  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 L17,000,000. (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 other.

  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.*[32]
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):

              Navy                 L  300,000

              Army                    212,000

              Ordnance                 40,000

              Civil List              462,115

                                      -------

                                   L1,014,115

  The parliament, however, settled the whole annual peace
establishment at $1,200,000.*[33] 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 consequence.

  All circumstances, then, taken together, arising from the French
revolution, from the approaching harmony and reciprocal interest of
the two nations, the abolition of 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                   L  500,000

             Army                      500,000

             Expenses of Government    500,000

                                     ----------

                                     L1,500,000

  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 office.

  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           L 75,00

  The official departments cannot reasonably exceed the

    following number, with the salaries annexed:

    Three offices at ten thousand pounds each             L 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

                                                          --------

                                                          L497,500

  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 L2,100,587. 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 national amount.

  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.*[34] 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 be proposed.

  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                    L2,520,000

  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 turned adrift.

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

  To pay to every such person of the age of fifty years, and until
he shall arrive at the age of sixty, the sum of six pounds per 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 L6 per annum      L  420,000

    Seventy thousand persons, at L10 per annum        700,000

                                                      -------

                                                   L1,120,000

  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
question.*[35]

  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  L2,520,000

  To one hundred and forty thousand aged persons          1,120,000

                                                         ----------

                                                         L3,640,000

  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 L250,000.*[36]

  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 distress.

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

        The amount would be                    L50,000

  And twenty shillings to every new-married couple who should claim in
like manner. This would not exceed the sum of L20,000.

  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 better treated.

  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 persons.

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

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

  Seventhly, Allowance of twenty thousand pounds for the funeral
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 in England.

  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                        L117,000

    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

                                                         --------

                                                         L253,500

    To prevent bulky estimations, admit the same sum

      to the disbanded navy as to the army,

      and the same increase of pay                        253,500

                                                         --------

                                       Total             L507,000

  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 taxes.

  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:                       L       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 reform.

  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 L771,657.

  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.

                              TABLE I

     A tax on all estates of the clear yearly value of L50,

              after deducting the land tax, and up

           To L500                      0s   3d per pound

           From L500 to L1,000          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 collected.

                               TABLE II

  An estate of:

    L 50 per annum      at 3d per pound pays      L0   12   6

     100  "    "           "             "         1    5   0

     200  "    "           "             "         2   10   0

     300  "    "           "             "         3   15   0

     400  "    "           "             "         5    0   0

     500  "    "           "             "         7    5   0

  After L500, the tax of 6d. per pound takes place on the second L500;
consequently an estate of L1,000 per annum pays L2l, 15s., and so on.

                                                     Total amount

  For the 1st L500 at   0s   3d per pound   L7   5s

          2nd   "       0    6              14  10     L21   15s

          2nd 1000 at   0    9              37  11      59    5

          3rd   "       1    0              50   0     109    5

                                                    (Total amount)

          4th 1000 at   1s   6d per pound  L75   0s   L184    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

                                                    (Total amount)

         22nd 1000 at  19s   0d per pound L950   0s  L9630    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 year.

  On small and middling estates it is lighter (as it is intended to
be) than the commutation tax. It is not till after seven or eight
thousand a year that it begins to be heavy. The object is not so
much the produce of the tax as the justice of the 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;*[37] 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.

                            TABLE III

     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

               L1000              L21               L979

                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
L12,370 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 L23,000 a year, divided into five estates of
four thousand each and one of three, will be charged only L1,129 which
is but five per cent., but if held by one possessor, will be charged
L10,630.

  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.*[38]- 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 this subject.

  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;

  1. Abolition of two millions poor-rates.

  2. Provision for two hundred and fifty-two thousand poor families,
at the rate of four pounds per head for each child under fourteen
years of age; which, with the addition of two hundred and fifty
thousand pounds, provides also education for one million and thirty
thousand children.

  3. Annuity of six pounds (per annum) each for all poor persons,
decayed tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age
of fifty years, and until sixty.

  4. Annuity of ten pounds each for life for all poor persons, decayed
tradesmen, and others (supposed seventy thousand) of the age of
sixty years.

  5. Donation of twenty shillings each for fifty thousand births.

  6. Donation of twenty shillings each for twenty thousand marriages.

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

  8. Employment at all times for the casual poor in the cities of
London and Westminster.

  SECOND ENUMERATION

  9. Abolition of the tax on houses and windows.

  10. Allowance of three shillings per week for life to fifteen
thousand disbanded soldiers, and a proportionate allowance to the
officers of the disbanded corps.

  11. Increase of pay to the remaining soldiers of L19,500 annually.

  12. The same allowance to the disbanded navy, and the same
increase of pay, as to the army.

  13. Abolition of the commutation tax.

  14. Plan of a progressive tax, operating to extirpate the unjust and
unnatural law of primogeniture, and the vicious influence of the
aristocratical system.*[39]

  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 aside.

  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 L9,150,138. 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 one million.

  The present scheme of paying off the national debt appears to me,
speaking as an indifferent person, to be an ill-concerted, if not a
fallacious job. The burthen of the national debt consists not in its
being so many millions, or so many 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 scheme began.

  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 will.

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

  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 gradual reduction.

  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 themselves.

  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
had acted.

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

  It is, I think, certain, that if the fleets of 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 agreed upon.

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

  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 offices.

  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 is.

  With how much more glory, and advantage to itself, does a nation
act, when it exerts its powers to rescue the world from bondage, and
to create itself friends, than when it employs those powers to
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 thing?

  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
consent.*[40]

  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 this."

  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 worst present.

  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
respect.

  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.

  Appendix

  As the publication of this work has been delayed beyond the time
intended, I think it not improper, all circumstances considered, to
state the causes that have occasioned delay.

  The reader will probably observe, that some parts in the plan
contained in this work for reducing the taxes, and certain parts in
Mr. Pitt's speech at the opening of the present session, Tuesday,
January 31, are so much alike as to induce a belief, that either the
author had taken the hint from Mr. Pitt, or Mr. Pitt from the author.-
I will first point out the parts that are similar, and then state such
circumstances as I am acquainted with, leaving the reader to make
his own conclusion.

  Considering it as almost an unprecedented case, that taxes should be
proposed to be taken off, it is equally extraordinary that such a
measure should occur to two persons at the same time; and still more
so (considering the vast variety and multiplicity of taxes) that
they should hit on the same specific taxes. Mr. Pitt has mentioned, in
his speech, the tax on Carts and Wagons- that on Female Servants-
the lowering the tax on Candles and the taking off the tax of three
shillings on Houses having under seven windows.

  Every one of those specific taxes are a part of the plan contained
in this work, and proposed also to be taken off. Mr. Pitt's plan, it
is true, goes no further than to a reduction of three hundred and
twenty thousand pounds; and the reduction proposed in this work, to
nearly six millions. I have made my calculations on only sixteen
millions and an half of revenue, still asserting that it was "very
nearly, if not quite, seventeen millions." Mr. Pitt states it at
16,690,000. I know enough of the matter to say, that he has not
overstated it. Having thus given the particulars, which correspond
in this work and his speech, I will state a chain of circumstances
that may lead to some explanation.

  The first hint for lessening the taxes, and that as a consequence
flowing from the French revolution, is to be found in the ADDRESS
and DECLARATION of the Gentlemen who met at the Thatched-House Tavern,
August 20, 1791. Among many other particulars stated in that
Address, is the following, put as an interrogation to the government
opposers of the French Revolution. "Are they sorry that the pretence
for new oppressive taxes, and the occasion for continuing many old
taxes will be at an end?"

  It is well known that the persons who chiefly frequent the
Thatched-House Tavern, are men of court connections, and so much did
they take this Address and Declaration respecting the French
Revolution, and the reduction of taxes in disgust, that the Landlord
was under the necessity of informing the Gentlemen, who composed the
meeting of the 20th of August, and who proposed holding another
meeting, that he could not receive them.*[41]

  What was only hinted in the Address and Declaration respecting taxes
and principles of government, will be found reduced to a regular
system in this work. But as Mr. Pitt's speech contains some of the
same things respecting taxes, I now come to give the circumstances
before alluded to.

  The case is: This work was intended to be published just before
the meeting of Parliament, and for that purpose a considerable part of
the copy was put into the printer's hands in September, and all the
remaining copy, which contains the part to which Mr. Pitt's speech
is similar, was given to him full six weeks before the meeting of
Parliament, and he was informed of the time at which it was to appear.
He had composed nearly the whole about a fortnight before the time
of Parliament meeting, and had given me a proof of the next sheet.
It was then in sufficient forwardness to be out at the time
proposed, as two other sheets were ready for striking off. I had
before told him, that if he thought he should be straitened for
time, I could get part of the work done at another press, which he
desired me not to do. In this manner the work stood on the Tuesday
fortnight preceding the meeting of Parliament, when all at once,
without any previous intimation, though I had been with him the
evening before, he sent me, by one of his workmen, all the remaining
copy, declining to go on with the work on any consideration.

  To account for this extraordinary conduct I was totally at a loss,
as he stopped at the part where the arguments on systems and
principles of government closed, and where the plan for the
reduction of taxes, the education of children, and the support of
the poor and the aged begins; and still more especially, as he had, at
the time of his beginning to print, and before he had seen the whole
copy, offered a thousand pounds for the copy-right, together with
the future copy-right of the former part of the Rights of Man. I
told the person who brought me this offer that I should not accept it,
and wished it not to be renewed, giving him as my reason, that
though I believed the printer to be an honest man, I would never put
it in the power of any printer or publisher to suppress or alter a
work of mine, by making him master of the copy, or give to him the
right of selling it to any minister, or to any other person, or to
treat as a mere matter of traffic, that which I intended should
operate as a principle.

  His refusal to complete the work (which he could not purchase)
obliged me to seek for another printer, and this of consequence
would throw the publication back till after the meeting of Parliament,
otherways it would have appeared that Mr. Pitt had only taken up a
part of the plan which I had more fully stated.

  Whether that gentleman, or any other, had seen the work, or any part
of it, is more than I have authority to say. But the manner in which
the work was returned, and the particular time at which this was done,
and that after the offers he had made, are suspicious circumstances. I
know what the opinion of booksellers and publishers is upon such a
case, but as to my own opinion, I choose to make no declaration. There
are many ways by which proof sheets may be procured by other persons
before a work publicly appears; to which I shall add a certain
circumstance, which is,

  A ministerial bookseller in Piccadilly who has been employed, as
common report says, by a clerk of one of the boards closely
connected with the ministry (the board of trade and plantation, of
which Hawkesbury is president) to publish what he calls my Life, (I
wish his own life and those of the cabinet were as good), used to have
his books printed at the same printing-office that I employed; but
when the former part of Rights of Man came out, he took his work
away in dudgeon; and about a week or ten days before the printer
returned my copy, he came to make him an offer of his work again,
which was accepted. This would consequently give him admission into
the printing-office where the sheets of this work were then lying; and
as booksellers and printers are free with each other, he would have
the opportunity of seeing what was going on.- Be the case, however, as
it may, Mr. Pitt's plan, little and diminutive as it is, would have
made a very awkward appearance, had this work appeared at the time the
printer had engaged to finish it.

  I have now stated the particulars which occasioned the delay, from
the proposal to purchase, to the refusal to print. If all the
Gentlemen are innocent, it is very unfortunate for them that such a
variety of suspicious circumstances should, without any design,
arrange themselves together.

  Having now finished this part, I will conclude with stating
another circumstance.

  About a fortnight or three weeks before the meeting of Parliament, a
small addition, amounting to about twelve shillings and sixpence a
year, was made to the pay of the soldiers, or rather their pay was
docked so much less. Some Gentlemen who knew, in part, that this
work would contain a plan of reforms respecting the oppressed
condition of soldiers, wished me to add a note to the work, signifying
that the part upon that subject had been in the printer's hands some
weeks before that addition of pay was proposed. I declined doing this,
lest it should be interpreted into an air of vanity, or an endeavour
to excite suspicion (for which perhaps there might be no grounds) that
some of the government gentlemen had, by some means or other, made out
what this work would contain: and had not the printing been
interrupted so as to occasion a delay beyond the time fixed for
publication, nothing contained in this appendix would have appeared.

                                           THOMAS PAINE
AUTHORS NOTES

  The Author's Notes

  FOR PART ONE AND PART TWO

  1. The main and uniform maxim of the judges is, the greater the
truth the greater the libel.

  2. Since writing the above, two other places occur in Mr. Burke's
pamphlet in which the name of the Bastille is mentioned, but in the
same manner. In the one he introduces it in a sort of obscure
question, and asks: "Will any ministers who now serve such a king,
with but a decent appearance of respect, cordially obey the orders
of those whom but the other day, in his name, they had committed to
the Bastille?" In the other the taking it is mentioned as implying
criminality in the French guards, who assisted in demolishing it.
"They have not," says he, "forgot the taking the king's castles at
Paris." This is Mr. Burke, who pretends to write on constitutional
freedom.

  3. I am warranted in asserting this, as I had it personally from
M. de la Fayette, with whom I lived in habits of friendship for
fourteen years.

  4. An account of the expedition to Versailles may be seen in No.
13 of the Revolution de Paris containing the events from the 3rd to
the 10th of October, 1789.

  5. It is a practice in some parts of the country, when two
travellers have but one horse, which, like the national purse, will
not carry double, that the one mounts and rides two or three miles
ahead, and then ties the horse to a gate and walks on. When the second
traveller arrives he takes the horse, rides on, and passes his
companion a mile or two, and ties again, and so on- Ride and tie.

  6. The word he used was renvoye, dismissed or sent away.

  7. When in any country we see extraordinary circumstances taking
place, they naturally lead any man who has a talent for observation
and investigation, to enquire into the causes. The manufacturers of
Manchester, Birmingham, and Sheffield, are the principal manufacturers
in England. From whence did this arise? A little observation will
explain the case. The principal, and the generality of the inhabitants
of those places, are not of what is called in England, the church
established by law: and they, or their fathers, (for it is within
but a few years) withdrew from the persecution of the chartered towns,
where test-laws more particularly operate, and established a sort of
asylum for themselves in those places. It was the only asylum that
then offered, for the rest of Europe was worse.- But the case is now
changing. France and America bid all comers welcome, and initiate them
into all the rights of citizenship. Policy and interest, therefore,
will, but perhaps too late, dictate in England, what reason and
justice could not. Those manufacturers are withdrawing, and arising in
other places. There is now erecting in Passey, three miles from Paris,
a large cotton manufactory, and several are already erected in
America. Soon after the rejecting the Bill for repealing the test-law,
one of the richest manufacturers in England said in my hearing,
"England, Sir, is not a country for a dissenter to live in,- we must
go to France." These are truths, and it is doing justice to both
parties to tell them. It is chiefly the dissenters that have carried
English manufactures to the height they are now at, and the same men
have it in their power to carry them away; and though those
manufactures would afterwards continue in those places, the foreign
market will be lost. There frequently appear in the London Gazette,
extracts from certain acts to prevent machines and persons, as far
as they can extend to persons, from going out of the country. It
appears from these that the ill effects of the test-laws and
church-establishment begin to be much suspected; but the remedy of
force can never supply the remedy of reason. In the progress of less
than a century, all the unrepresented part of England, of all
denominations, which is at least an hundred times the most numerous,
may begin to feel the necessity of a constitution, and then all
those matters will come regularly before them.

  8. When the English Minister, Mr. Pitt, mentions the French finances
again in the English Parliament, it would be well that he noticed this
as an example.

  9. Mr. Burke, (and I must take the liberty of telling him that he is
very unacquainted with French affairs), speaking upon this subject,
says, "The first thing that struck me in calling the States-General,
was a great departure from the ancient course";- and he soon after
says, "From the moment I read the list, I saw distinctly, and very
nearly as it has happened, all that was to follow."- Mr. Burke
certainly did not see an that was to follow. I endeavoured to
impress him, as well before as after the States-General met, that
there would be a revolution; but was not able to make him see it,
neither would he believe it. How then he could distinctly see all
the parts, when the whole was out of sight, is beyond my
comprehension. And with respect to the "departure from the ancient
course," besides the natural weakness of the remark, it shows that
he is unacquainted with circumstances. The departure was necessary,
from the experience had upon it, that the ancient course was a bad
one. The States-General of 1614 were called at the commencement of the
civil war in the minority of Louis XIII.; but by the class of
arranging them by orders, they increased the confusion they were
called to compose. The author of L'Intrigue du Cabinet, (Intrigue of
the Cabinet), who wrote before any revolution was thought of in
France, speaking of the States-General of 1614, says, "They held the
public in suspense five months; and by the questions agitated therein,
and the heat with which they were put, it appears that the great
(les grands) thought more to satisfy their particular passions, than
to procure the goods of the nation; and the whole time passed away
in altercations, ceremonies and parade."- L'Intrigue du Cabinet,
vol. i. p. 329.

  10. There is a single idea, which, if it strikes rightly upon the
mind, either in a legal or a religious sense, will prevent any man
or any body of men, or any government, from going wrong on the subject
of religion; which is, that before any human institutions of
government were known in the world, there existed, if I may so express
it, a compact between God and man, from the beginning of time: and
that as the relation and condition which man in his individual
person stands in towards his Maker cannot be changed by any human laws
or human authority, that religious devotion, which is a part of this
compact, cannot so much as be made a subject of human laws; and that
all laws must conform themselves to this prior existing compact, and
not assume to make the compact conform to the laws, which, besides
being human, are subsequent thereto. The first act of man, when he
looked around and saw himself a creature which he did not make, and
a world furnished for his reception, must have been devotion; and
devotion must ever continue sacred to every individual man, as it
appears, right to him; and governments do mischief by interfering.

  11. See this work, Part I starting at line number 254.- N.B. Since
the taking of the Bastille, the occurrences have been published: but
the matters recorded in this narrative, are prior to that period;
and some of them, as may be easily seen, can be but very little known.

  12. See "Estimate of the Comparative Strength of Great Britain,"
by G. Chalmers.

  13. See "Administration of the Finances of France," vol. iii, by
M. Neckar.

  14. "Administration of the Finances of France," vol. iii.

  15. Whether the English commerce does not bring in money, or whether
the government sends it out after it is brought in, is a matter
which the parties concerned can best explain; but that the
deficiency exists, is not in the power of either to disprove. While
Dr. Price, Mr. Eden, (now Auckland), Mr. Chalmers, and others, were
debating whether the quantity of money in England was greater or
less than at the Revolution, the circumstance was not adverted to,
that since the Revolution, there cannot have been less than four
hundred millions sterling imported into Europe; and therefore the
quantity in England ought at least to have been four times greater
than it was at the Revolution, to be on a proportion with Europe. What
England is now doing by paper, is what she would have been able to
do by solid money, if gold and silver had come into the nation in
the proportion it ought, or had not been sent out; and she is
endeavouring to restore by paper, the balance she has lost by money.
It is certain, that the gold and silver which arrive annually in the
register-ships to Spain and Portugal, do not remain in those
countries. Taking the value half in gold and half in silver, it is
about four hundred tons annually; and from the number of ships and
galloons employed in the trade of bringing those metals from
South-America to Portugal and Spain, the quantity sufficiently
proves itself, without referring to the registers.

  In the situation England now is, it is impossible she can increase
in money. High taxes not only lessen the property of the
individuals, but they lessen also the money capital of the nation,
by inducing smuggling, which can only be carried on by gold and
silver. By the politics which the British Government have carried on
with the Inland Powers of Germany and the Continent, it has made an
enemy of all the Maritime Powers, and is therefore obliged to keep
up a large navy; but though the navy is built in England, the naval
stores must be purchased from abroad, and that from countries where
the greatest part must be paid for in gold and silver. Some fallacious
rumours have been set afloat in England to induce a belief in money,
and, among others, that of the French refugees bringing great
quantities. The idea is ridiculous. The general part of the money in
France is silver; and it would take upwards of twenty of the largest
broad wheel wagons, with ten horses each, to remove one million
sterling of silver. Is it then to be supposed, that a few people
fleeing on horse-back or in post-chaises, in a secret manner, and
having the French Custom-House to pass, and the sea to cross, could
bring even a sufficiency for their own expenses?

  When millions of money are spoken of, it should be recollected, that
such sums can only accumulate in a country by slow degrees, and a long
procession of time. The most frugal system that England could now
adopt, would not recover in a century the balance she has lost in
money since the commencement of the Hanover succession. She is seventy
millions behind France, and she must be in some considerable
proportion behind every country in Europe, because the returns of
the English mint do not show an increase of money, while the registers
of Lisbon and Cadiz show an European increase of between three and
four hundred millions sterling.

  16. That part of America which is generally called New-England,
including New-Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode-Island, and Connecticut,
is peopled chiefly by English descendants. In the state of New-York
about half are Dutch, the rest English, Scotch, and Irish. In
New-jersey, a mixture of English and Dutch, with some Scotch and
Irish. In Pennsylvania about one third are English, another Germans,
and the remainder Scotch and Irish, with some Swedes. The States to
the southward have a greater proportion of English than the middle
States, but in all of them there is a mixture; and besides those
enumerated, there are a considerable number of French, and some few of
all the European nations, lying on the coast. The most numerous
religious denomination are the Presbyterians; but no one sect is
established above another, and all men are equally citizens.

  17. For a character of aristocracy, the reader is referred to Rights
of Man, Part I., starting at line number 1457.

  18. The whole amount of the assessed taxes of France, for the
present year, is three hundred millions of francs, which is twelve
millions and a half sterling; and the incidental taxes are estimated
at three millions, making in the whole fifteen millions and a half;
which among twenty-four millions of people, is not quite thirteen
shillings per head. France has lessened her taxes since the
revolution, nearly nine millions sterling annually. Before the
revolution, the city of Paris paid a duty of upwards of thirty per
cent. on all articles brought into the city. This tax was collected at
the city gates. It was taken off on the first of last May, and the
gates taken down.

  19. What was called the livre rouge, or the red book, in France, was
not exactly similar to the Court Calendar in England; but it
sufficiently showed how a great part of the taxes was lavished.

  20. In England the improvements in agriculture, useful arts,
manufactures, and commerce, have been made in opposition to the genius
of its government, which is that of following precedents. It is from
the enterprise and industry of the individuals, and their numerous
associations, in which, tritely speaking, government is neither pillow
nor bolster, that these improvements have proceeded. No man thought
about government, or who was in, or who was out, when he was
planning or executing those things; and all he had to hope, with
respect to government, was, that it would let him alone. Three or four
very silly ministerial newspapers are continually offending against
the spirit of national improvement, by ascribing it to a minister.
They may with as much truth ascribe this book to a minister.

  21. With respect to the two houses, of which the English
parliament is composed, they appear to be effectually influenced
into one, and, as a legislature, to have no temper of its own. The
minister, whoever he at any time may be, touches it as with an opium
wand, and it sleeps obedience.

  But if we look at the distinct abilities of the two houses, the
difference will appear so great, as to show the inconsistency of
placing power where there can be no certainty of the judgment to use
it. Wretched as the state of representation is in England, it is
manhood compared with what is called the house of Lords; and so little
is this nick-named house regarded, that the people scarcely enquire at
any time what it is doing. It appears also to be most under influence,
and the furthest removed from the general interest of the nation. In
the debate on engaging in the Russian and Turkish war, the majority in
the house of peers in favor of it was upwards of ninety, when in the
other house, which was more than double its numbers, the majority
was sixty-three.

  The proceedings on Mr. Fox's bill, respecting the rights of
juries, merits also to be noticed. The persons called the peers were
not the objects of that bill. They are already in possession of more
privileges than that bill gave to others. They are their own jury, and
if any one of that house were prosecuted for a libel, he would not
suffer, even upon conviction, for the first offense. Such inequality
in laws ought not to exist in any country. The French constitution
says, that the law is the same to every individual, whether to Protect
or to punish. All are equal in its sight.

  22. As to the state of representation in England, it is too absurd
to be reasoned upon. Almost all the represented parts are decreasing
in population, and the unrepresented parts are increasing. A general
convention of the nation is necessary to take the whole form of
government into consideration.

  23. It is related that in the canton of Berne, in Switzerland, it
has been customary, from time immemorial, to keep a bear at the public
expense, and the people had been taught to believe that if they had
not a bear they should all be undone. It happened some years ago
that the bear, then in being, was taken sick, and died too suddenly to
have his place immediately supplied with another. During this
interregnum the people discovered that the corn grew, and the
vintage flourished, and the sun and moon continued to rise and set,
and everything went on the same as before, and taking courage from
these circumstances, they resolved not to keep any more bears; for,
said they, "a bear is a very voracious expensive animal, and we were
obliged to pull out his claws, lest he should hurt the citizens."
The story of the bear of Berne was related in some of the French
newspapers, at the time of the flight of Louis XVI., and the
application of it to monarchy could not be mistaken in France; but
it seems that the aristocracy of Berne applied it to themselves, and
have since prohibited the reading of French newspapers.

  24. It is scarcely possible to touch on any subject, that will not
suggest an allusion to some corruption in governments. The simile of
"fortifications," unfortunately involves with it a circumstance, which
is directly in point with the matter above alluded to.

  Among the numerous instances of abuse which have been acted or
protected by governments, ancient or modern, there is not a greater
than that of quartering a man and his heirs upon the public, to be
maintained at its expense.

  Humanity dictates a provision for the poor; but by what right, moral
or political, does any government assume to say, that the person
called the Duke of Richmond, shall be maintained by the public? Yet,
if common report is true, not a beggar in London can purchase his
wretched pittance of coal, without paying towards the civil list of
the Duke of Richmond. Were the whole produce of this imposition but
a shilling a year, the iniquitous principle would be still the same;
but when it amounts, as it is said to do, to no less than twenty
thousand pounds per annum, the enormity is too serious to be permitted
to remain. This is one of the effects of monarchy and aristocracy.

  In stating this case I am led by no personal dislike. Though I think
it mean in any man to live upon the public, the vice originates in the
government; and so general is it become, that whether the parties
are in the ministry or in the opposition, it makes no difference: they
are sure of the guarantee of each other.

  25. In America the increase of commerce is greater in proportion
than in England. It is, at this time, at least one half more than at
any period prior to the revolution. The greatest number of vessels
cleared out of the port of Philadelphia, before the commencement of
the war, was between eight and nine hundred. In the year 1788, the
number was upwards of twelve hundred. As the State of Pennsylvania
is estimated at an eighth part of the United States in population, the
whole number of vessels must now be nearly ten thousand.

  26. When I saw Mr. Pitt's mode of estimating the balance of trade,
in one of his parliamentary speeches, he appeared to me to know
nothing of the nature and interest of commerce; and no man has more
wantonly tortured it than himself. During a period of peace it has
been havocked with the calamities of war. Three times has it been
thrown into stagnation, and the vessels unmanned by impressing, within
less than four years of peace.

  27. Rev. William Knowle, master of the grammar school of Thetford,
in Norfolk.

  28. Politics and self-interest have been so uniformly connected that
the world, from being so often deceived, has a right to be
suspicious of public characters, but with regard to myself I am
perfectly easy on this head. I did not, at my first setting out in
public life, nearly seventeen years ago, turn my thoughts to
subjects of government from motives of interest, and my conduct from
that moment to this proves the fact. I saw an opportunity in which I
thought I could do some good, and I followed exactly what my heart
dictated. I neither read books, nor studied other people's opinion.
I thought for myself. The case was this:-

  During the suspension of the old governments in America, both
prior to and at the breaking out of hostilities, I was struck with the
order and decorum with which everything was conducted, and impressed
with the idea that a little more than what society naturally performed
was all the government that was necessary, and that monarchy and
aristocracy were frauds and impositions upon mankind. On these
principles I published the pamphlet Common Sense. The success it met
with was beyond anything since the invention of printing. I gave the
copyright to every state in the Union, and the demand ran to not
less than one hundred thousand copies. I continued the subject in
the same manner, under the title of The Crisis, till the complete
establishment of the Revolution.

  After the declaration of independence Congress unanimously, and
unknown to me, appointed me Secretary in the Foreign Department.
This was agreeable to me, because it gave me the opportunity of seeing
into the abilities of foreign courts, and their manner of doing
business. But a misunderstanding arising between Congress and me,
respecting one of their commissioners then in Europe, Mr. Silas Deane,
I resigned the office, and declined at the same time the pecuniary
offers made by the Ministers of France and Spain, M. Gerald and Don
Juan Mirralles.

  I had by this time so completely gained the ear and confidence of
America, and my own independence was become so visible, as to give
me a range in political writing beyond, perhaps, what any man ever
possessed in any country, and, what is more extraordinary, I held it
undiminished to the end of the war, and enjoy it in the same manner to
the present moment. As my object was not myself, I set out with the
determination, and happily with the disposition, of not being moved by
praise or censure, friendship or calumny, nor of being drawn from my
purpose by any personal altercation, and the man who cannot do this is
not fit for a public character.

  When the war ended I went from Philadelphia to Borden-Town, on the
east bank of the Delaware, where I have a small place. Congress was at
this time at Prince-Town, fifteen miles distant, and General
Washington had taken his headquarters at Rocky Hill, within the
neighbourhood of Congress, for the purpose of resigning up his
commission (the object for which he accepted it being accomplished),
and of retiring to private life. While he was on this business he
wrote me the letter which I here subjoin:

                                 "Rocky-Hill, Sept. 10, 1783.

  "I have learned since I have been at this place that you are at
Borden-Town. Whether for the sake of retirement or economy I know not.
Be it for either, for both, or whatever it may, if you will come to
this place, and partake with me, I shall be exceedingly happy to see
you at it.

  "Your presence may remind Congress of your past services to this
country, and if it is in my power to impress them, command my best
exertions with freedom, as they will be rendered cheerfully by one who
entertains a lively sense of the importance of your works, and who,
with much pleasure, subscribes himself, Your sincere friend,

                                         G. WASHINGTON."

  During the war, in the latter end of the year 1780, I formed to
myself a design of coming over to England, and communicated it to
General Greene, who was then in Philadelphia on his route to the
southward, General Washington being then at too great a distance to
communicate with immediately. I was strongly impressed with the idea
that if I could get over to England without being known, and only
remain in safety till I could get out a publication, that I could open
the eyes of the country with respect to the madness and stupidity of
its Government. I saw that the parties in Parliament had pitted
themselves as far as they could go, and could make no new
impressions on each other. General Greene entered fully into my views,
but the affair of Arnold and Andre happening just after, he changed
his mind, under strong apprehensions for my safety, wrote very
pressingly to me from Annapolis, in Maryland, to give up the design,
which, with some reluctance, I did. Soon after this I accompanied
Colonel Lawrens, son of Mr. Lawrens, who was then in the Tower, to
France on business from Congress. We landed at L'Orient, and while I
remained there, he being gone forward, a circumstance occurred that
renewed my former design. An English packet from Falmouth to New York,
with the Government dispatches on board, was brought into L'Orient.
That a packet should be taken is no extraordinary thing, but that
the dispatches should be taken with it will scarcely be credited, as
they are always slung at the cabin window in a bag loaded with
cannon-ball, and ready to be sunk at a moment. The fact, however, is
as I have stated it, for the dispatches came into my hands, and I read
them. The capture, as I was informed, succeeded by the following
stratagem:- The captain of the "Madame" privateer, who spoke
English, on coming up with the packet, passed himself for the
captain of an English frigate, and invited the captain of the packet
on board, which, when done, he sent some of his own hands back, and he
secured the mail. But be the circumstance of the capture what it
may, I speak with certainty as to the Government dispatches. They were
sent up to Paris to Count Vergennes, and when Colonel Lawrens and
myself returned to America we took the originals to Congress.

  By these dispatches I saw into the stupidity of the English
Cabinet far more than I otherwise could have done, and I renewed my
former design. But Colonel Lawrens was so unwilling to return alone,
more especially as, among other matters, we had a charge of upwards of
two hundred thousand pounds sterling in money, that I gave in to his
wishes, and finally gave up my plan. But I am now certain that if I
could have executed it that it would not have been altogether
unsuccessful.

  29. It is difficult to account for the origin of charter and
corporation towns, unless we suppose them to have arisen out of, or
been connected with, some species of garrison service. The times in
which they began justify this idea. The generality of those towns have
been garrisons, and the corporations were charged with the care of the
gates of the towns, when no military garrison was present. Their
refusing or granting admission to strangers, which has produced the
custom of giving, selling, and buying freedom, has more of the
nature of garrison authority than civil government. Soldiers are
free of all corporations throughout the nation, by the same
propriety that every soldier is free of every garrison, and no other
persons are. He can follow any employment, with the permission of
his officers, in any corporation towns throughout the nation.

  30. See Sir John Sinclair's History of the Revenue. The land-tax
in 1646 was L2,473,499.

  31. Several of the court newspapers have of late made frequent
mention of Wat Tyler. That his memory should be traduced by court
sycophants and an those who live on the spoil of a public is not to be
wondered at. He was, however, the means of checking the rage and
injustice of taxation in his time, and the nation owed much to his
valour. The history is concisely this:- In the time of Richard II. a
poll tax was levied of one shilling per head upon every person in
the nation of whatever estate or condition, on poor as well as rich,
above the age of fifteen years. If any favour was shown in the law
it was to the rich rather than to the poor, as no person could be
charged more than twenty shillings for himself, family and servants,
though ever so numerous; while all other families, under the number of
twenty were charged per head. Poll taxes had always been odious, but
this being also oppressive and unjust, it excited as it naturally
must, universal detestation among the poor and middle classes. The
person known by the name of Wat Tyler, whose proper name was Walter,
and a tiler by trade, lived at Deptford. The gatherer of the poll tax,
on coming to his house, demanded tax for one of his daughters, whom
Tyler declared was under the age of fifteen. The tax-gatherer insisted
on satisfying himself, and began an indecent examination of the
girl, which, enraging the father, he struck him with a hammer that
brought him to the ground, and was the cause of his death. This
circumstance served to bring the discontent to an issue. The
inhabitants of the neighbourhood espoused the cause of Tyler, who in a
few days was joined, according to some histories, by upwards of
fifty thousand men, and chosen their chief. With this force he marched
to London, to demand an abolition of the tax and a redress of other
grievances. The Court, finding itself in a forlorn condition, and,
unable to make resistance, agreed, with Richard at its head, to hold a
conference with Tyler in Smithfield, making many fair professions,
courtier-like, of its dispositions to redress the oppressions. While
Richard and Tyler were in conversation on these matters, each being on
horseback, Walworth, then Mayor of London, and one of the creatures of
the Court, watched an opportunity, and like a cowardly assassin,
stabbed Tyler with a dagger, and two or three others falling upon him,
he was instantly sacrificed. Tyler appears to have been an intrepid
disinterested man with respect to himself. All his proposals made to
Richard were on a more just and public ground than those which had
been made to John by the Barons, and notwithstanding the sycophancy of
historians and men like Mr. Burke, who seek to gloss over a base
action of the Court by traducing Tyler, his fame will outlive their
falsehood. If the Barons merited a monument to be erected at
Runnymede, Tyler merited one in Smithfield.

  32. I happened to be in England at the celebration of the
centenary of the Revolution of 1688. The characters of William and
Mary have always appeared to be detestable; the one seeking to destroy
his uncle, and the other her father, to get possession of power
themselves; yet, as the nation was disposed to think something of that
event, I felt hurt at seeing it ascribe the whole reputation of it
to a man who had undertaken it as a job and who, besides what he
otherwise got, charged six hundred thousand pounds for the expense
of the fleet that brought him from Holland. George the First acted the
same close-fisted part as William had done, and bought the Duchy of
Bremen with the money he got from England, two hundred and fifty
thousand pounds over and above his pay as king, and having thus
purchased it at the expense of England, added it to his Hanoverian
dominions for his own private profit. In fact, every nation that
does not govern itself is governed as a job. England has been the prey
of jobs ever since the Revolution.

  33. Charles, like his predecessors and successors, finding that
war was the harvest of governments, engaged in a war with the Dutch,
the expense of which increased the annual expenditure to L1,800,000 as
stated under the date of 1666; but the peace establishment was but
L1,200,000.

  34. Poor-rates began about the time of Henry VIII., when the taxes
began to increase, and they have increased as the taxes increased ever
since.

  35. Reckoning the taxes by families, five to a family, each family
pays on an average L12 7s. 6d. per annum. To this sum are to be
added the poor-rates. Though all pay taxes in the articles they
consume, all do not pay poor-rates. About two millions are exempted-
some as not being house-keepers, others as not being able, and the
poor themselves who receive the relief. The average, therefore, of
poor-rates on the remaining number, is forty shillings for every
family of five persons, which make the whole average amount of taxes
and rates L14 17s. 6d. For six persons L17 17s. For seven persons
L2O 16s. 6d.

  The average of taxes in America, under the new or representative
system of government, including the interest of the debt contracted in
the war, and taking the population at four millions of souls, which it
now amounts to, and it is daily increasing, is five shillings per
head, men, women, and children. The difference, therefore, between the
two governments is as under:

                                        England      America

                                      L    s.  d.  L    s.  d.

    For a family of five persons     14   17   6   1    5   0

    For a family of six persons      17   17   0   1   10   0

    For a family of seven persons    20   16   6   1   15   0

  36. Public schools do not answer the general purpose of the poor.
They are chiefly in corporation towns from which the country towns and
villages are excluded, or, if admitted, the distance occasions a great
loss of time. Education, to be useful to the poor, should be on the
spot, and the best method, I believe, to accomplish this is to
enable the parents to pay the expenses themselves. There are always
persons of both sexes to be found in every village, especially when
growing into years, capable of such an undertaking. Twenty children at
ten shillings each (and that not more than six months each year) would
be as much as some livings amount to in the remotest parts of England,
and there are often distressed clergymen's widows to whom such an
income would be acceptable. Whatever is given on this account to
children answers two purposes. To them it is education- to those who
educate them it is a livelihood.

  37. The tax on beer brewed for sale, from which the aristocracy
are exempt, is almost one million more than the present commutation
tax, being by the returns of 1788, L1,666,152- and, consequently, they
ought to take on themselves the amount of the commutation tax, as they
are already exempted from one which is almost a million greater.

  38. See the Reports on the Corn Trade.

  39. When enquiries are made into the condition of the poor,
various degrees of distress will most probably be found, to render a
different arrangement preferable to that which is already proposed.
Widows with families will be in greater want than where there are
husbands living. There is also a difference in the expense of living
in different counties: and more so in fuel.

  Suppose then fifty thousand extraordinary cases, at

    the rate of ten pounds per family per annum            L500,000

  100,000 families, at L8 per family per annum              800,000

  100,000 families, at L7 per family per annum              700,000

  104,000 families, at L5 per family per annum              520,000

  And instead of ten shillings per head for the education

    of other children, to allow fifty shillings per family

    for that purpose to fifty thousand families             250,000

                                                         ----------

                                                         L2,770,000

    140,000 aged persons as before                        1,120,000

                                                         ----------

                                                         L3,890,000

  This arrangement amounts to the same sum as stated in this work,
Part II, line number 1068, including the L250,000 for education; but
it provides (including the aged people) for four hundred and four
thousand families, which is almost one third of an the families in
England.

  40. I know it is the opinion of many of the most enlightened
characters in France (there always will be those who see further
into events than others), not only among the general mass of citizens,
but of many of the principal members of the former National
Assembly, that the monarchical plan will not continue many years in
that country. They have found out, that as wisdom cannot be made
hereditary, power ought not; and that, for a man to merit a million
sterling a year from a nation, he ought to have a mind capable of
comprehending from an atom to a universe, which, if he had, he would
be above receiving the pay. But they wished not to appear to lead
the nation faster than its own reason and interest dictated. In all
the conversations where I have been present upon this subject, the
idea always was, that when such a time, from the general opinion of
the nation, shall arrive, that the honourable and liberal method would
be, to make a handsome present in fee simple to the person, whoever he
may be, that shall then be in the monarchical office, and for him to
retire to the enjoyment of private life, possessing his share of
general rights and privileges, and to be no more accountable to the
public for his time and his conduct than any other citizen.

  41. The gentleman who signed the address and declaration as chairman
of the meeting, Mr. Horne Tooke, being generally supposed to be the
person who drew it up, and having spoken much in commendation of it,
has been jocularly accused of praising his own work. To free him
from this embarrassment, and to save him the repeated trouble of
mentioning the author, as he has not failed to do, I make no
hesitation in saying, that as the opportunity of benefiting by the
French Revolution easily occurred to me, I drew up the publication
in question, and showed it to him and some other gentlemen, who, fully
approving it, held a meeting for the purpose of making it public,
and subscribed to the amount of fifty guineas to defray the expense of
advertising. I believe there are at this time, in England, a greater
number of men acting on disinterested principles, and determined to
look into the nature and practices of government themselves, and not
blindly trust, as has hitherto been the case, either to government
generally, or to parliaments, or to parliamentary opposition, than
at any former period. Had this been done a century ago, corruption and
taxation had not arrived to the height they are now at.

                           -THE END-
.