



Produced by Norman M. Wolcott





THE WRITINGS OF THOMAS PAINE, VOLUME II.

By Thomas Paine

Collected And Edited By

Moncure Daniel Conway


1779 - 1792



[Redactor's Note: Reprinted from the "The Writings of Thomas Paine
Volume I" (1894 - 1896). The author's notes are preceded by a "*". A
Table of Contents has been added for each part for the convenience of
the reader which is not included in the printed edition. Notes are at
the end of Part II. ]




                         TABLE OF CONTENTS

                       XIII The Rights of Man

                            PART THE FIRST
    BEING AN ANSWER TO MR. BURKE'S ATTACK ON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION

  *  Editor's Introduction
  *  Dedication to George Washington
  *  Preface to the English Edition
  *  Preface to the French Edition
  *  Rights of Man
  *  Miscellaneous Chapter
  *  Conclusion

                       XIV The Rights of Man

                           PART THE SECOND
                   COMBINING PRINCIPLE AND PRACTICE

  *  French Translator's Preface
  *  Dedication to M. de la Fayette
  *  Preface
  *  Introduction
  *  Chapter I   Of Society and Civilisation
  *  Chapter II  Of the Origin of the Present Old Governments
  *  Chapter III Of the Old and New Systems of Government
  *  Chapter IV  Of Constitutions
  *  Chapter V   Ways and Means of Improving the Condition of Europe,
     Interspersed with Miscellaneous Observations

  *  Appendix
  *  Notes




XIII. RIGHTS OF MAN.




EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION.


WHEN Thomas Paine sailed from America for France, in April, 1787, he was
perhaps as happy a man as any in the world. His most intimate friend,
Jefferson, was Minister at Paris, and his friend Lafayette was the idol
of France. His fame had preceded him, and he at once became, in Paris,
the centre of the same circle of savants and philosophers that had
surrounded Franklin. His main reason for proceeding at once to Paris was
that he might submit to the Academy of Sciences his invention of an iron
bridge, and with its favorable verdict he came to England, in September.
He at once went to his aged mother at Thetford, leaving with a publisher
(Ridgway), his "Prospects on the Rubicon." He next made arrangements to
patent his bridge, and to construct at Rotherham the large model of it
exhibited on Paddington Green, London. He was welcomed in England by
leading statesmen, such as Lansdowne and Fox, and above all by Edmund
Burke, who for some time had him as a guest at Beaconsfield, and drove
him about in various parts of the country. He had not the slightest
revolutionary purpose, either as regarded England or France. Towards
Louis XVI. he felt only gratitude for the services he had rendered
America, and towards George III. he felt no animosity whatever. His four
months' sojourn in Paris had convinced him that there was approaching a
reform of that country after the American model, except that the Crown
would be preserved, a compromise he approved, provided the throne should
not be hereditary. Events in France travelled more swiftly than he had
anticipated, and Paine was summoned by Lafayette, Condorcet, and others,
as an adviser in the formation of a new constitution.

Such was the situation immediately preceding the political and literary
duel between Paine and Burke, which in the event turned out a tremendous
war between Royalism and Republicanism in Europe. Paine was, both in
France and in England, the inspirer of moderate counsels. Samuel Rogers
relates that in early life he dined at a friend's house in London
with Thomas Paine, when one of the toasts given was the "memory of
Joshua,"--in allusion to the Hebrew leader's conquest of the kings of
Canaan, and execution of them. Paine observed that he would not treat
kings like Joshua. "I 'm of the Scotch parson's opinion," he said,
"when he prayed against Louis XIV.--`Lord, shake him over the mouth of
hell, but don't let him drop!'" Paine then gave as his toast, "The
Republic of the World,"--which Samuel Rogers, aged twenty-nine, noted
as a sublime idea. This was Paine's faith and hope, and with it he
confronted the revolutionary storms which presently burst over France
and England.

Until Burke's arraignment of France in his parliamentary speech
(February 9, 1790), Paine had no doubt whatever that he would sympathize
with the movement in France, and wrote to him from that country as
if conveying glad tidings. Burke's "Reflections on the Revolution in
France" appeared November 1, 1790, and Paine at once set himself to
answer it. He was then staying at the Angel Inn, Islington. The inn
has been twice rebuilt since that time, and from its contents there is
preserved only a small image, which perhaps was meant to represent
"Liberty,"--possibly brought from Paris by Paine as an ornament for his
study. From the Angel he removed to a house in Harding Street, Fetter
Lane. Rickman says Part First of "Rights of Man" was finished at
Versailles, but probably this has reference to the preface only, as I
cannot find Paine in France that year until April 8. The book had been
printed by Johnson, in time for the opening of Parliament, in February;
but this publisher became frightened after a few copies were out (there
is one in the British Museum), and the work was transferred to J. S.
Jordan, 166 Fleet Street, with a preface sent from Paris (not contained
in Johnson's edition, nor in the American editions). The pamphlet,
though sold at the same price as Burke's, three shillings, had a vast
circulation, and Paine gave the proceeds to the Constitutional Societies
which sprang up under his teachings in various parts of the country.

Soon after appeared Burke's "Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs." In
this Burke quoted a good deal from "Rights of Man," but replied to it
only with exclamation points, saying that the only answer such ideas
merited was "criminal justice." Paine's Part Second followed, published
February 17, 1792. In Part First Paine had mentioned a rumor that Burke
was a masked pensioner (a charge that will be noticed in connection with
its detailed statement in a further publication); and as Burke had
been formerly arraigned in Parliament, while Paymaster, for a very
questionable proceeding, this charge no doubt hurt a good deal. Although
the government did not follow Burke's suggestion of a prosecution
at that time, there is little doubt that it was he who induced the
prosecution of Part Second. Before the trial came on, December 18, 1792,
Paine was occupying his seat in the French Convention, and could only be
outlawed.

Burke humorously remarked to a friend of Paine and himself, "We hunt
in pairs." The severally representative character and influence of these
two men in the revolutionary era, in France and England, deserve more
adequate study than they have received. While Paine maintained freedom
of discussion, Burke first proposed criminal prosecution for sentiments
by no means libellous (such as Paine's Part First). While Paine was
endeavoring to make the movement in France peaceful, Burke fomented the
league of monarchs against France which maddened its people, and brought
on the Reign of Terror. While Paine was endeavoring to preserve the
French throne ("phantom" though he believed it), to prevent bloodshed,
Burke was secretly writing to the Queen of France, entreating her not
to compromise, and to "trust to the support of foreign armies"
("Histoire de France depuis 1789." Henri Martin, i., 151). While Burke
thus helped to bring the King and Queen to the guillotine, Paine pleaded
for their lives to the last moment. While Paine maintained the right of
mankind to improve their condition, Burke held that "the awful Author
of our being is the author of our place in the order of existence;
and that, having disposed and marshalled us by a divine tactick, not
according to our will, but according to his, he has, in and by that
disposition, virtually subjected us to act the part which belongs to
the place assigned us." Paine was a religious believer in eternal
principles; Burke held that "political problems do not primarily
concern truth or falsehood. They relate to good or evil. What in the
result is likely to produce evil is politically false, that which is
productive of good politically is true." Assuming thus the visionary's
right to decide before the result what was "likely to produce evil,"
Burke vigorously sought to kindle war against the French Republic which
might have developed itself peacefully, while Paine was striving for
an international Congress in Europe in the interest of peace. Paine
had faith in the people, and believed that, if allowed to choose
representatives, they would select their best and wisest men; and that
while reforming government the people would remain orderly, as they had
generally remained in America during the transition from British rule
to selfgovernment. Burke maintained that if the existing political order
were broken up there would be no longer a people, but "a number of
vague, loose individuals, and nothing more." "Alas!" he exclaims,
"they little know how many a weary step is to be taken before they can
form themselves into a mass, which has a true personality." For the sake
of peace Paine wished the revolution to be peaceful as the advance of
summer; he used every endeavor to reconcile English radicals to some
modus vivendi with the existing order, as he was willing to retain Louis
XVI. as head of the executive in France: Burke resisted every tendency
of English statesmanship to reform at home, or to negotiate with the
French Republic, and was mainly responsible for the King's death and the
war that followed between England and France in February, 1793. Burke
became a royal favorite, Paine was outlawed by a prosecution originally
proposed by Burke. While Paine was demanding religious liberty, Burke
was opposing the removal of penal statutes from Unitarians, on the
ground that but for those statutes Paine might some day set up a church
in England. When Burke was retiring on a large royal pension, Paine
was in prison, through the devices of Burke's confederate, the American
Minister in Paris. So the two men, as Burke said, "hunted in pairs."

So far as Burke attempts to affirm any principle he is fairly quoted in
Paine's work, and nowhere misrepresented. As for Paine's own ideas, the
reader should remember that "Rights of Man" was the earliest complete
statement of republican principles. They were pronounced to be the
fundamental principles of the American Republic by Jefferson, Madison,
and Jackson,-the three Presidents who above all others represented the
republican idea which Paine first allied with American Independence.
Those who suppose that Paine did but reproduce the principles of
Rousseau and Locke will find by careful study of his well-weighed
language that such is not the case. Paine's political principles were
evolved out of his early Quakerism. He was potential in George Fox. The
belief that every human soul was the child of God, and capable of
direct inspiration from the Father of all, without mediator or priestly
intervention, or sacramental instrumentality, was fatal to all privilege
and rank. The universal Fatherhood implied universal Brotherhood, or
human equality. But the fate of the Quakers proved the necessity of
protecting the individual spirit from oppression by the majority as well
as by privileged classes. For this purpose Paine insisted on surrounding
the individual right with the security of the Declaration of Rights,
not to be invaded by any government; and would reduce government to an
association limited in its operations to the defence of those rights
which the individual is unable, alone, to maintain.

From the preceding chapter it will be seen that Part Second of "Rights
of Man" was begun by Paine in the spring of 1791. At the close of that
year, or early in 1792, he took up his abode with his friend Thomas
"Clio" Rickman, at No. 7 Upper Marylebone Street. Rickman was a radical
publisher; the house remains still a book-binding establishment, and
seems little changed since Paine therein revised the proofs of Part
Second on a table which Rickman marked with a plate, and which is now in
possession of Mr. Edward Truelove. As the plate states, Paine wrote on
the same table other works which appeared in England in 1792.

In 1795 D. I. Eaton published an edition of "Rights of Man," with a
preface purporting to have been written by Paine while in Luxembourg
prison. It is manifestly spurious. The genuine English and French
prefaces are given.




RIGHTS OF MAN

Being An Answer To Mr. Burke's Attack On The French Revoloution

By Thomas Paine

Secretary For Foreign Affairs To Congress In The American War, And
Author Of The Works Entitled "Common Sense" And "A Letter To Abbe
Raynal"



                              DEDICATION

  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




PAINE'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




PAINE'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. PART THE FIRST BEING AN ANSWER TO MR. BURKE'S ATTACK ON
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION


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 tyrannizes 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 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 <DW19>, 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.




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.

                            END OF PART I.




RIGHTS OF MAN. PART SECOND, COMBINING PRINCIPLE AND PRACTICE.

By Thomas Paine.




FRENCH TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

(1792)

THE work of which we offer a translation to the public has created the
greatest sensation in England. Paine, that man of freedom, who seems
born to preach "Common Sense" to the whole world with the same success
as in America, explains in it to the people of England the theory of the
practice of the Rights of Man.

Owing to the prejudices that still govern that nation, the author has
been obliged to condescend to answer Mr. Burke. He has done so more
especially in an extended preface which is nothing but a piece of
very tedious controversy, in which he shows himself very sensitive to
criticisms that do not really affect him. To translate it seemed an
insult to the free French people, and similar reasons have led the
editors to suppress also a dedicatory epistle addressed by Paine to
Lafayette.

The French can no longer endure dedicatory epistles. A man should write
privately to those he esteems: when he publishes a book his thoughts
should be offered to the public alone. Paine, that uncorrupted friend
of freedom, believed too in the sincerity of Lafayette. So easy is it
to deceive men of single-minded purpose! Bred at a distance from courts,
that austere American does not seem any more on his guard against the
artful ways and speech of courtiers than some Frenchmen who resemble
him.


                                  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,

      Thomas Paine

London, Feb. 9, 1792




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




RIGHTS OF MAN PART II.




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 Servantsthe 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




THE AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR PART ONE AND PART TWO


[Footnote 1: The main and uniform maxim of the judges is, the greater the truth
the greater the libel.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 6: The word he used was renvoye, dismissed or sent away.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 12: See "Estimate of the Comparative Strength of Great Britain," by G.
Chalmers.]

[Footnote 13: See "Administration of the Finances of France," vol. iii, by M.
Neckar.]

[Footnote 14: "Administration of the Finances of France," vol. iii.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

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

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 27: Rev. William Knowle, master of the grammar school of Thetford, in
Norfolk.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

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

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 38: See the Reports on the Corn Trade.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]

[Footnote 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.]


                          -END OF PART II.-






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Writings of Thomas Paine, Volume II, by
Thomas Paine

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