b"\n\nTHE \n\nmsmssssmss^ ased laws \n\nOP \n\nET ERY CO TJX THY, \n\nARE THE \n\nEFFECT, \n\nNOT THit \n\nCAUSE, \n\nQP THE \n\nCONDITION OF THE PEOPLE. \n\n\nBY Fit AX CIS OCAXE. \n\n\n\nCHARLESTON; \n\nPRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY A. \xc2\xa3, MILLER , \n\n\n1819 -. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n-\xe2\x80\xa2 \n\n\n\n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2\xe2\x80\xa2 \n\n\n\n- \n\n\n\n-- \n\n\nt \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n. \n\n* i 9 \n\ni \xe2\x80\xa2 \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n7*4 \n\n\n\n\nTHE following Essay is rather intended as hints to the ingenious \nfor a more complete and better arranged work, than as a perform\xc2\xac \nance in itself. My circumstances do not allow me at present to \ngive to the principles I here wish to establish, that extensive eluci\xc2\xac \ndation, it appears to me the matter deserves. It has long ago been \nasserted by many able writers, that the form of government we per\xc2\xac \nceive in any state, is not principally the work of human foresight, \nbut the gradual result of time and experience, of circumstances and \nemergencies. And that even much of the evil tendency of mistaken \npolicy and dislocated arrangement, has been corrected by the wis\xc2\xac \ndom of nature ; or that strong inclination, felt by every individual, \nto better his condition. Mr. Ward, too, in his inquiry into the \nfoundation and history of the law of nations in Europe, shews by \na chain of irresistable facts, the incapacity of human reason for \nthe discovery of moral truth, when unassisted by revelation. Yet \nI have seen no where sufficient light thrown on the incapacity among \nthe great majority of mankind for the perception of moral truth, \neven after it has been discovered. Nor on the inefficacy of current \nopinions for moral practice, independent of situation. On the con\xc2\xac \ntrary, much reliance seems to be placed, by most writers on the \ndissemination of knowledge by tuition, among the people at large, \nas a principle from which moral and political improvement, and \nindustrious habits, are to arise. Neither have I seen the effects of \nthe state of capital, on the structure of society, sufficiently attended \nto. When in my opinion, this affords a key to account for most, \nif not all, the revolutions of every kind we witness in states. These \nare the points to which it is my aim to draw the attention of the \n.reader, by appealing to the invariable conduct of man in all coun\xc2\xac \ntries, and in all stages of civilization. It may, however, happen \nto the matter of this Essay, what Mr. Dugald Stewart says, when \nspeaking of some of the ideas of Hobbes, that it is the fate of \nunread writers to work on the revival of exploded systems. But it \nappears to me, that if the principles here contained are not admit\xc2\xac \nted, there is no reason why we should reject the visions of political \njustice; with perhaps the exception only of men being able to live \nwithout eating, drinking, sleeping or the like. Fot even the ten\xc2\xac \ndency of the species, to increase beyond the means of subsistence, \nso completely established by Mr. Mallbus, would not be an insur\xc2\xac \nmountable obstacle to almost Utopian felicity, if men were gene\xc2\xac \nrally reasonable. For in that case the population of every country \ncould be reduced to the standard of subsistence by the preventive \ncheck. The only object of the following pages, and it would be \ninconsistent with the doctrines they contain, to expect any other, is \nthe warning the sensible against that zeal, political, moral, and of \n\n\n4 \n\n\nreforms, to which they are very liable, when not thoroughly \nquainted with the character of mankind, and that makes them often \nact in a manner very injurious to the public and themselves, placing \nthem at all times in a very ridiculous light. What causes that men \nof genius are seldom, perhaps never fit for the practical transac- \nlions of life, is, that they have nothing like a correct idea of other \npeople\xe2\x80\x99s minds. Measuring the generality of men by themselves* \ntheir plan? and views are not adapted to the dulness and weakness \nof the ordinary inhabitants of these sublunary regions. As they \n&im at too much, their expectations are always disappointed. In \nproportion too, as they entertain exaggerated conceptions of the \nspecies, they find every individual short of their imaginary scale. \nThey become incapable of discovering or appreciating comparative \nmerit, and are apt to treat with severity and censure, even the \n\xe2\x80\xa2worthiest persons. They grow sour and misanthropic. The whole \ntenor of their conduct is viewed by ordinary persons, and not un\xc2\xac \njustly, as eccentric and deranged. Our practice is with individuals, \nnot with the species. And so that set of true opinions that tend to \nmake us moderate and patient, ought to be encouraged, at the \nexpence of chimerical encomiums, that have the contrary bias. \nThe reader is put in mind, that whatever is here advanced, re\xc2\xac \ngards always the human race as viewed in masses; that no notice is \ntaken of individual deviations, as not sufficient to affect the general \ntheory. \n\nSome apology may perhaps be considered necessary for introduc\xc2\xac \ning at too much length, Mr. Malthu\xe2\x80\x99s system of population, and \nother maxims in political economy, already generally known, but \nas the present theory is entirely built on those principles, and as \nthey admit of being considered in very different ways, I thought it \nabsolutely necessary to expose to the reader my view of them. \n\nAbout the beginning of October last, I sent from Boston, (U. S.) \nto Messrs. Longman & Co. publishers in London, a manuscript, \ncontaining the substance of the present treatise, but rather in the \n$hape of loose notes, so that those gentlemen could have such form \ngiven to them, as they might have thought proper; for I had then \nvery little expectation of being able for a long while to pay any at\xc2\xac \ntention to the matter. I dont know whether any thing has been \ndone about it. These notes however, were published in Boston \nabout the beginning of last January, pretty much in the same shape \nas they went to London. Having now a small chance, I thought \nfit to throw into something like a regular essay, a subject, which, I \nRelieve, is not without some importance. \n\nThose who may be inclined to censure such falts of idiom and \nstyle, as must have crept into this composition, are made aware, \nthat the writer does not use his native language, and that his oppor\xc2\xac \ntunities of cultivating English have not been great. \n\n\n\n\nTHE \n\nGOVERNMENT, &c. \n\n\nALL systems of politics and moral philosophy appear to hav\xc2\xab \nbeen built, on a highly overrated supposition, of what we will call \nthe free agency of man, or his capacity of acting, according to cer\xc2\xac \ntain maxims or rules, introduced to point out a correct manner of \nconduct. For in those systems the common reach of the mental \npowers of the species, has been measured too much by the best \ninstances of it. But after some observation, it will be found, that \nthe difference of natural intelligence, between one man and another, \nis much greater, than what has as yet been generally imagined; \nexcept in such ordinary avocations of life, w here only an often re\xc2\xac \npeated routine is followed. We perceive every day, the great em\xc2\xac \nbarrassment of almost every individual, in such occurrences as are \nany w ays novel, although in perfect analogy with those in common \npractice. This exaggeration of the human faculties is the cause of \nthe many apparent inconsistencies in the human character, and of \nthat wide difference, always to be noticed, between practical results, \nand what might have been anticipated by theories. Who, for in\xc2\xac \nstance, that is acquainted with Christian promises and threats, \ncould have foretold such a practical disregard for the bliss of heaven, \nand the torments of hell, in a people who really believe in them. \nAnd this not only with the stupid and uncultivated, but among \nthose too, w ho appear of a very different character, and who have \nneither shaken off those beliefs, as idle and chimerical and yet do \nnot in the least act according to them. It is noticed in holy writ, \nand by sacred writers, that man, when unassisted by divine grace, \ncan only be moved by his carnal wants and desires; and that even \nin those cases, where his conduct is praise worthy, this is more \nthe effect of his temperment, his habits or his want of temptation \nfor sin, than of his judgment or foresight. For neither of these \nare of that strength, that it has been taken for granted, in philoso\xc2\xac \nphical systems. In most cases such maxims as a man knows, hang \nloosely in his memory, rather as formularies in vogue, than as regu\xc2\xac \nlators of his actions. He has by rote a set of opinions, correct or \nnot, as he may have chanced to get them, which he pours out, \nwhen occasion call them forth, pretty much in the same manner, \nas most of the learned wear their information, or as a canary bird \nrepeats the tunes he has been taught, when the first notes, or some \nother circumstance brings them to his mind. The strange power \ntoo of passion over reason, even in the best disposed and enlightened, \nhas struck every common observer. How many of the worthiest, \n\n\n6 \n\n\nand otherwise most valuable members of society, degrade them* \nselves to misery and shame, because they are not able to counteract \nsuch a pitiful inclination, as that for strong liquors, and against \nwhich they are continually taking the warmest and most sincere \nresolutions. All other desires are in all probability no less effective^ \nalthough not so visible in their operation. If this is the case with \nthe best specimens, what ought to be expected from the reasoning \npowers of ordinary individuals ? It is a fortunate circumstance^ \nhowever, that the passions are, in most persons, not much stronger \nthan their reason or their virtue. We do not include among these \nweak passions, the corporeal wants. Otherwise the sinners of the \nworld, would be such demons*as Milton\xe2\x80\x99s satan, and Mr. Godwin\xe2\x80\x99s \nor lord Byron\xe2\x80\x99s heroes. If the elements of character were better \nknown, such pictures would likely be found out of nature as inco* \nherent. The mixture of great virtues, and great vices in the same \nperson, however abundant in history or romance, will seldom, per\xc2\xac \nhaps never, be found in real life. A virtuous person may have \ngreat weaknesses, and a scoundrel may be of that hardness of nerves^ \nand that ostentatious disposition, that will in some circumstances \nproduce brilliant effects. But cruelty, and real generosity\xe2\x80\x94the \ncunning necessary to usurp an elevated station, and real grandeur^ \nare entirely incompatible. Whatever inclination there may be to \ndoubt of the authenticity of holy writ, or to undervalue the autho\xc2\xac \nrity of sacred writers, certain it is that the experience of all age^ \nand of all countries, has warranted their views of human nature^ \nout of all comparison beyond the speculations of those philophers, \nthat are called benevolent, because they profess extravagant opini\xc2\xac \nons of the human character. The benevolent and amiable Addi\xc2\xac \nson distressed his friend Steele, for a sum of which he was in no \nneed; and likewise entered into several cabals to depress the repu\xc2\xac \ntation of his rivals. In the morality that is natural to man, might \nis the only rule and limit of right. He feels the smallest wants of \nhis own, in a very clear and distinct manner, and very feebly those \nof others, even the most urgent. Of course he must hate his fellow \nman, as the opponent of his power, or the rival of his pursuits and \nwish of dominion and glory; and when rivalship has ceased by \nthe acknowledged superiority of one of the parties, contempt \nfollows on the one side and envy on the other. The strong consi\xc2\xac \nders the weak only as a thing subservient to his desires. Besides \nthis, nobody wants to see any one happier than himself, in the same \nmanner as every body dislikes to meet with the wiser or the stronger. \nBut as everyone must have found it very troublesome, to be continu\xc2\xac \nally enforcing his power in doubtful strife, against that of another^ \npractical warfare among individuals of the same tribe, must soon \nhave ceased, by habit hatred must have lulled into indifference* \nand courtsey be established to keep up the truce. That polite\xc2\xac \nness is only a mask for real enmity is proved by the circum\xc2\xac \nstance, that it becomes ridiculous in proportion as friendship takes \nplace between two or more persons. However, vent was \ngiven to the inclination for hostility by war on strangers, which \ncontinued without intermission, until nations growing rich and \nimproved, convenience made it mutually necessary, be some* \n\n\n\n\n7 \n\ntimes at peace. But although practical acts of hostility subsided \nalmost entirely among members of the same nation, secret enmity \ngoes on even among brothers and sisters, ready to break out \non the smallest provocation of interest, or rivalship. Christi\xc2\xac \nanity urges the love of our neighbour, to counteract our natural \nhatred of him. If this love was a natural disposition, it would be a \npassion, that like every other, would perhaps require control, in\xc2\xac \nstead of encouragement. The rarity of sincere friendship has al\xc2\xac \nways been proverbial, at the same time that nothing has>been more \nabundant, except indifference, that deep and lasting aversion.- 1 - \nEven a passion for the other sex, much more refined than that of \nthe lower animals, does not appear \xc2\xa3> be very common. The re\xc2\xac \nputation of gallantry and tenderness, seems to render a character \npeculiarly amiable, so as to make it our delight in our plays and \nromances. When there is a real and warm attachment between \ntwo married persons, that couple becomes respectable, and is an \nobject of commendation. Now if such sentiments were any ways \ngeneral, no more credit w\xe2\x80\x99ould be given for them, than for the re\xc2\xac \njoicing at our own good fortune. That perfect and unbounded con\xc2\xac \nfidence, that would always take place between man and wife, if the \nspecies was endowed with a better character, is scarcely to be met \nwith. (It is not here meant, confidence of conjugal chastity.) So, \nthat after the fall of man, matrimony seems to have originated not \nin premeditated advantages that were too refined for his understand\xc2\xac \ning, and that would have been neglected as much as any other moral \ninjunction. The human mind has too little consistency to continue \nlong in practices or habits that have not some permanent and mate\xc2\xac \nrial foundation in his immediate wants. But first in the necessity of \navoiding strife, and in the instinctive sympathy for his children, and \nthen in the ease of repetition, which engenders habit. A savage pre\xc2\xac \nfers hunting often in the same forest, to the trying a new one every \nday. The civilized man commonly frequents the same shop, the same \nwalk, and the same every thing else. Almost all birds pair in the \nsame manner, and can in general be a pattern to man in conjugal \nconduct. If we once admit, that war is the natural disposition of \nman, of which it appears little doubt can be entertained, all theories \nof disinterested or religious virtue, or even of a conduct rationally \nselfish, from principle, ever becoming general, must vanish like the \ndistant cloud. The elements of this character, are an almost total \ndeficiency of sympathy, and a perfect incapacity of being aware of \nconsequences ; that is a most narrow sighted selfishness. Nothing \nof this, however, attaches in particular to the individual vrarrior. \nSince war is the natural element of man, a nation that would avoid \nthe necessary strife, or a man that would decline the profession of \narms when expedient to his fortunes, would act upon principles \nvery foreign to the natural conformation of the world. If the \ntruth of this picture is not proved, by our own public and private \nactions, by our system of society, by the history of all nations, and \nof all times, we must conceive the whole tenor of human conduct, \nas a most unaccountable phenomenon. The uneasiness and dis\xc2\xac \ntrust we suffer in the presence of strangers, before a truce is made \nby acquaintance, and the interest we feel for children, are indubita- \n\n\n& \n\n\nble proofs of the same. The characteristic of children, is impo\xc2\xac \ntence and imbecility, which would render them contemptible if it was \npermanent, but as we conceive them free from those dispositions \nthat render grown persons our enemies, and our rivals, we seem to \nrest with them, from our warfare with the species. When a man \nabstains from doing injury to any person, and is at all times ready \nto do justice to every one, he becomes a character highly esteemed \nand applauded, even if he does not perform acts of goodness of any \nimportance. This shows that we are always in the expectation of \nharm from others, instead of kindness. The long standing question \nof whether war is in the nature of man or not, appears to be pretty \nmuch of the same sort, as that other one sometime ago agitated \namong philosophers, of whether or no he is naturally an eater of \nflesh. The practical superiority of man in a civilized society, \nwhen compared to that of a savage, or of a man in less improved \nsociety, proceeds from habits, occasioned by his better circumstan\xc2\xac \nces, that afford him a less gross manner of satisfying his wants and \ndesires, which wants and desires become also more refined, so as to \nrender a high degree of brutality impracticable, and a smaller one \ndangerous and disreputable. \n\nIn the course of this essay, we shall try to point out in what man\xc2\xac \nner this melioration is brought about. \n\nFrom the forced superiority of practices, in consequence of bet\xc2\xac \nter situation, more improved theories take place. Consistent and \ngenerally practised theories, are the effect, not the cause of practi\xc2\xac \nces. The nature of those theories, that have not had their origin in \npractice, show very plainly, of what reveries the human mind is \ncapable, ihe moment it enters the regions of speculation, and expe\xc2\xac \nrience shows too how far they are disregarded in real life. These \ntheories could not have been produced in a state of society where \nlife would have been less convenient, and are entirely unintelligible \nto men in less improved circumstances. The savage that would \nsee an European treating his prisoner of war with kindness, and \ndismissing him without ransom, would not be able to conceive the \nmotive of a conduct so absurd, in his manner of viewing the matter. \nWhat, he would ask, does he not feel the least resentment towards \nhis enemy ? Is he not afraid of being killed by him some other \ntime ? You might tell him as much as you pleased, that govern\xc2\xac \nments are at war, not individuals. That those men have a mutual \nadvantage in not killing nor doing each other any harm. Then \nthey are friends he would say, why do they fight ? In the name of \ntheir different governments, you would answer But for all that, \nlie would believe Europeans detestable sort of monsters, that des\xc2\xac \ntroy their friends, and spare their enemies. Some writers have \nalready remarked, that it is perfectly visionary to expect the intro\xc2\xac \nduction of European morality and manners, in such countries as \nNew Holland, or New Zealand, without introducing European \nagriculture and arts, that is European situation. And even if such \ncountries are colonized by civilized nations, the whole population \nwill at last proceed from those settlers, and the aborigines by de\xc2\xac \ngrees disappear without ever having attained any portion of civili\xc2\xac \nzation. The civilized man and the savage have no point of con- \n\n\n\n\n9 \n\ntact by habit, and so cannot amalgamate. But if the country is \nvery extensive, containing large prairies, and a good climate, the in\xc2\xac \ncrease of cattle faster than what can be destroyed, turns the hunter \ninto the herdsman, before the civilized man, by natural increase, \npossesses himself of all the land. This has been the case with the \nIndians in some of the Spanish colonies. In others they had alrea\xc2\xac \ndy taken some steps towards improvement before their discovery. \nThe subjects of Montezuma and the Incas, were but little inferior \nto some of the African nations. After a people comes to a certain \ndegree of discipline by habit, is disposed to every improvement.\xe2\x80\x94 \nThere is no sort of dexterity among men of which the negroes are \nnot capable. Much too can and is made of the Spanish Indians, \nalthough not so much as of the negroes. But the wandering savage \nis perfectly untamable. Mons. Cuvier, says that nothing short of \ndivine interposition can effect this. That extraordinary people, \ncalled the gipsies, after ages of residence among the most civilized \nnations, are almost in as perfect a state of nature as the American \nhunter. An ingenious Spanish gentleman, is of opinion, that they \nare the aboriginal natives of every country, and that the other in\xc2\xac \nhabitants are descended of colonies from nations civilized more or \nless, either by divine agency, or by some natural causes extraordi\xc2\xac \nnarily powerful. Of this last class, he supposes even the Celtse \nand other tribes, that the Phoenicians Carthagenians, Romans, &c. \nmet in Spain. This conjecture will appear far from groundless, if \nwe consider how little the gipsies have assimulated to the people \namong whom they inhabit, the striking resemblance that they bear \nto each other in distant countries, and among nations of the most \ndissimilar character and manners, such as those that live on the coast \nof Barbary and in Germany. Their resemblance too with the wan\xc2\xac \ndering American Indian, is every particle as near, as their relative \nsituation with the the other tribes will permit. This general sys\xc2\xac \ntem can only be the work of nature. These beings were pressed \nby colonies, which increased too fast to allow them the necessary \ngradations of habits by situation. Their numbers and character \ndwindled into such insignificancy, as not to make them an object of \nserious persecution. If they had been originally an improved na\xc2\xac \ntion that had emigrated, we would know something of the time \nand of the place from whence they proceeded. They would have \namalgamated with the people where they settled. They have no \nreligious system at all, and religious tennets would never have \nprevented this union, which all governments, more or less, have \ntried to effect. The slight persecutions they have suffered, have \nbeen such only as are practised on beggars and other vagrants.\xe2\x80\x94 \nCharles Hid of Spain, ordered some of the smartest into the regi\xc2\xac \nments, but nothing could be made of them, and they were discharged. \nDuring these persecutions, they withdrew to the woods and dug \nboles in the ground like rabbits. A people not more improved than \nthe gipsies are now, would have never migrated very far. Savages \nare no distant travellers. A gipsy in the South of Spain thinks \nno more of visiting his brethren in France, than a Canadian Indian \nto go to Cape Horn. He does not know even that they exist. The \ngipsy hates the society of other people, on the same principle that \n\n\n10 \n\n\na vulgar low person feels shy in going into the presence of his bet\xc2\xac \nters. He there suffers a sense of inferiority extremely disagreeable. \nThis is the real principle of the strangement of that race. The \nJews differ in very little else from the people among whom they \nlive, but in faith, and some usages attached to their creed. The \nsmall peculiarities to be perceived in their character, are the effect of \npersecution, and even without this circumstance, their faith also \nwould have disappeared long ago. When two equal or nearly \nequal bodies of people meet in a country, with different ideas, they \nfight; but they assimilate by degrees, and a mixed system is at last \nthe result. But if one of the parties is very inferior, the strongest \nwill persecute with all the malice of the human character, and the \nweak cling close to each other for mutual support. Also the origin \nand history of the Jews is a well known matter. \n\nIt would certainly be a task, very muck out of the purpose, to \nenter here into a detailed history of the crimes, vices and follies of \nmankind, for every one any ways acquainted with history or travels, \nis well aware of this circumstance. Where Christianity has not \nthrown its light, religious tenets, and moral practices, are nothing \nhut a system of absurdity, atrocity and indecency. This is not \nsolely among nations in a state of barbarity, but among those \ntwo. as have made very considerable progress in politenes^ \narts and sciences, such as the Greeks, the Romans, and others. \nNot for a short period, or during the action of transitory \nand peculiar combination of circumstances, but established as \nduties, or recommended as meritorious, for ages and more \nages. Hume, says, that the religious beliefs that have existed in \nthe world, have more the appearance of sick men\xe2\x80\x99s dreams, or of \nthe ravings of a mad house, than of dispensations sent from heaven \nto guide the conduct of mortals. Yet religious precepts must al\xc2\xac \nways originate in what is considered expedient, or in what inclina\xc2\xac \ntion of some kind leads to. Those painful practices recommended \nby some creeds, were engendered in the ostentatious love of distinc- \nion, of those who had no other means of acquiring glory. This \nshows, in the clearest manner, that man in general finds no diffi\xc2\xac \nculty in embracing, and most religiously respecting any absurdity, \never so glaring. And this too on points which he considers, as of \nthe utmost importance, and consequently, that he is incapable of \n\ndistinguishing between truth and falsehood, virtue and vice.- \n\nWhatever portion of other talents there may be in the world, we \nmust infer from the conduct of men, that judgement is the rarest. \nAnd what there is of it, is almost of no effect, by the circumstance, \nthat it is only judgement, that can discern its operations in others; \nand the generality of people being incapable of this, they must be \ngoverned by their own views of things; besides that very body fan\xc2\xac \ncies for himself a superiority on this rare gift. This is evidently \nthe cause of the strong hold of prejudice, so as to resist demon\xc2\xac \nstration itself. Mr. Edmund Burke seems to have been well aware \nof this circumstance, when he asserted, that with the control of \nthe press, he would venture to establish in a short time any opini\xc2\xac \non, no matter how extravagant. This indeed is palpable, when \nwe see every day, in treaties replete with ingenuity and erudition. \n\n\n\n\n11 \n\ndoctrines maintained, that are repugnant to common sense, and to \nthe information of our organs, and where visible and contradictory \nextravagancies are forced into agreement by the most flimsy and \nfar fetched subtleties. Aqd what is more, when some well attest\xc2\xac \ned fact comes in contradiction with these airy fabrics, so as not to \nadmit of a conciliation, of any sort, the fact is rejected, at least for \na great while, and dreams maintain their ground. The non-dis\xc2\xac \ncovery of hidden truths may show the weakness of human reason; \nbut the adoption of glaring errors, proves the total want of it.\xe2\x80\x94 \nThese impertinences attract the attention of the learned, command \ntheir assent, and employ their understanding, until other questions, \nequally vain, drive the preceding ones away. Cicero said, there is \nno nonsense, but can be found among the opinions of some philo\xc2\xac \nsopher. The proposition would have maintained the ground al\xc2\xac \nmost as well, had he said, there is no opinion of a philosopher, \nbut what turns out to be nonsense, if it does not admit of an easy \nand often repeated trial by experiment. Nor can we here plead, \nthat if these dreams are generally received, it is the effect of reve\xc2\xac \nrence to admitted opinions; this confirms, instead of destroying \nthe foregoing doctrine. That man is certainly blind, that can be \nled into a ditch by another. We perceive, likewise, by the history \nof man, that when moral maxims have been ascertained, he in ge\xc2\xac \nneral is yet incapable to feel sufficiently their expediency, so as to \nconsider them as efficient motives for action. The errors of the \ntheories of political justice, lay in considering as want of cultiva\xc2\xac \ntion, what in general is the natural and unsurmountable deficiency \nof the mental powers. As it has already been hinted, in few are \nthe passions of that vigour, that would make them run in the face \nof certain ruin, or of great inconvenience, if they were capable of \nbringing, in a clear manner to their minds, what they do not actu\xc2\xac \nally feel; or of discriminating distinctly between the uncertain, and \nthe improbable, or impossible. If the inconveniences of some\xc2\xac \nthing that flatters our appetites, are not very clear, certain and \nimmediate, we take it for granted, that we can sin with impunity. \nWith the same simplicity we expect whatever indulges our hopes, \noften on the strength of a bare possibility. The division of the \nhuman species ought not to be so much of the cultivated and uncul\xc2\xac \ntivated, as that of the capable and incapable. The authors of the \ndoctrine of perfectibility, say the Editors of the London Quarterly \nReview, mistook the improveability of the human knowledge, for \nthe perfectibility of human nature. A mistake of the same sort is \nmade, when we fancy that a melioration of habits the consequence of \nsituation, is an improvement of character. Slaves are in all proba\xc2\xac \nbility much better treated, all things considered,\xe2\x80\x98among the Alge\xc2\xac \nrines and Arabs, than among the Christian and civilized West-ln- \ndians. No where is a slave better off than under the Indians of \nFlorida, because the wants of the master being few, very little \nlabour of the servant will supply them. A negro there divides his \ncrop with his owner, who never asks if more might not be made, \nand, as on the other hand, he is generally the wiser of the two ; he \nis far from being in the abject condition we find him among the \nwhites, for this reason the Florida planters cannot keep their \n\n\n12 \n\n\nslaves, although they treat them better than any other white people. \nAfter the introduction of Christianity, man continues, as rude and \nprofligate in practice as before. He disgraces the pure and simple \ndoctrines of that divine religion, with the most whimsical reveries. \nHis conduct, as in every other case, meliorates solely with his situa\xc2\xac \ntion. And the only effect that it appears to have had on the world, \nwas the drawing to it from other subjects, those controversies, ar\xc2\xac \nguments, and disputes, that our stupidity and spirit of wrangling, \nengender. And a religion whose ground work is peace, whose \nevery command is good will to all creation, was made the pretext \nfor the most atrocious persecutious. But these crimes never had \ntheir origin in religious zeal. If man was not naturally cruel, no \nzeal of any kind would ever make him so. Human reasoning ap\xc2\xac \npears to be pretty much of the nature of a rope, with one end fast\xc2\xac \nened to a point, so that the other may be placed with equal ease \nin the most opposite directions. And thus, it may be laid down as \na maxim, that inclination leads opinion, instead of opinion leading \ninclination. The archbishop of Cambray would have never had \nCalvin burnt nor otherwise injured, as this last did Cervetus, and \nif he did, it would not be from opinions, that his mind would have \nformed uninfluenced by others. If benevolence was the natural \ncharacter of man, coercion would have been much less practised in \nthe world, than what necessity would have demanded ; for mercy \nhas on its side all his great indolence. When men left off murder\xc2\xac \ning, plundering, and captivating each other in the name of reli\xc2\xac \ngion, they began to do tne same in that of liberty, or of good or\xc2\xac \nder. It may be curious to examine now, how men pass from one \nsort of fanaticism to another. Fanaticism is an ardent desire of \ndistinction and power. When Furope was so immersed in igno\xc2\xac \nrance, that few had any knowledge of religious dogmas, those \nthat were any ways conversant in this matter, claimed the high \nrank and authority, that they thought their superior knowledge \nentitled them to. When this sort of erudition was general, so as to \nbe no longer an object of distinction, those fanatically disposed, \nbecame liberal on that head, and turned their minds from religion \nto politics. This process, however, can only apply to the leaders \nof factions, for the natural inclination to war is what moves the \nmultitude. With a constitution of mind like this in the species, it \nwould be unwarrantable to suppose, that whatever structure of \ngovernment exists in any state, may proceed from the foresight of \nany person, or set of persons. How often will this foresight, if it \ncan be the endowment of any individual, be accompanied with \npower? According to the anterior principles, it cannot be expected \nin a council; for a body of men, say 1, 2, or 300, in whatever \nmanner chosen, must partake of the general characteristics of the \nspecies, and in new paths not be able to discriminate between the \ndictates of wisdom, and the wild proposals of vision. Their re\xc2\xac \nsolutions will, for the most part, be according to the notions of the \npeople from which they are taken ; and if they attempt to deviate, \nit will be to propose some impracticable scheme that will throw the \ncountry into anarchy. Nothing of this, however, is intended against \nconstitutional councils, where they have grown of themselves. In \n\n\n13 \n\n\n\ncertain periods of the process of society, they will naturally come \non and with them, its ordinary march will be better secured, than \nwith a single man against temporary derangements of caprice or \nprejudice. But supposing that some extraordinary man, or still \nmore extraordinary council, could devise some great institutions, \nfor which the general state of things should not be ready, how are \nthey to be carried into execution ? The grand Seignior, far from \nbeing able to govern the Turks against their habits or prejudices, \nis himself an abject slave to custom, form and etiquette, and woe to \nhim the moment he attempts to deviate. What became of the \ninstitutions that Alfred, and Charlemagne, are said to have brought \nforth ? Those of Peter the Great of Russia, would have met with \nthe same fate, had he lived three, two, and probably one century \nbefore. If they succeeded, it was owing to the principle, that in \nthe next part of this essay will be pointed out, as the great regu\xc2\xac \nlator of society, and which leads human reason, instead of being \nled by it. \n\n\nTHE difference of the state of one society in all its points and \nthat of another, is the difference of the means of subsistence, and \nits actual population, and of the increase of subsistence, compared \nwith the power of increase of poplation. \n\nMr. Malthus, in his essay on population, endeavours to shew \nthat a great portion of the misery and vice, that afflicts human na\xc2\xac \nture, proceeds from its tendency to increase beyond the means of \nsubsistence. To establish this point, he tries to prove, that man, \nlike every other animal and vegetable, would multiply in an infinite \nmanner, if want of subsistence did not check this augmentation. \nTherefore, that every country contains in general the population \nthat r in its circumstances, it can maintain. That as every where \nthe increase of population is checked by want; there is in every \ncountry that misery, and that kind of vice that is the necessary \nconsequence of want. With this view he investigates at what rate \nmankind would increase, according to its generating power, and \nafter quoting the opinion of several authors, helixes for doubling- \non the period of 25 years, as a term, that has been verified, be\xc2\xac \nyond all doubt in the Ended States, ever since the settling of that \ncountry. The access of foreigners from such distant places as can \ngo there, not only is not competent to accelerate the doubling of a \npopulation already considerable, but not in the least to make up \nfor the checks that even there are in action. At this rate a single \nmarried couple will grow into 1,099,511,627,71b in only one thou\xc2\xac \nsand years ; that is a number greater than the whole earth contains \nby about a thousand times. It is, however, highly probable, that \nmankind has not doubled during that period. This point, established \nin so satisfactory a manner as it appears it is, all the rest are mere \ncorollaries. The checks to population he divides into two classes, \nthe positive and the preventive. The preventive is people not giv\xc2\xac \ning way to their inclination to marry, for fear of the distresses and \nembarrasments of getting a family they cannot provide tor, with \nthe conveniences or luxry they deem it necessary to their standing \n\n\n\n14 \n\n\nin society; and the positive is the destruction occasioned on the \nborn by war and sickness. The absurd plans or ambitious views \nof the rulers of civilized nations would often be ineffectual, if their \nsubjects were generally in convenient circumstances. For who \nwould quit his family, and a tolerable degree of comfort, for the \nportion of glory and expectations, that fall to the lot of a common \nsoldier? Despotic regulations, that would force men to arms, ex\xc2\xac \ncept in the defence of their homes and fortunes, could not exist in \ncountries so situated. Thus we see that war among civilized na\xc2\xac \ntions is rendered practicable only by the want or scarcity of sub\xc2\xac \nsistence among many of the members of at least one of the parties \nengaged. It is already a trite observation, that voluntary soldiers \nare to be got most commonly, where and when the facility of get\xc2\xac \nting a livelyhood is the smallest. But the slaughter of war, great as \nit is, does not seem to tend to diminish population. The number of \ninhabitants of the ancient territory of France has by all accounts \nincreased during the last thirty years of unremitted, and in modern \ntimes, unprecedented conflict, much more than during the pre\xc2\xac \nceding thirty of almost profound peace. This excess of increase \nwas occasioned by the distribution of ecclesiastical and noble do\xc2\xac \nmains by which private unproductive expenditure was diminished, \nwhich counteracted the expences of the war; and as foreign trade \nand many manufactures were interrupted and capital ceased to flow \nout, a great additional wealth was directed towards agriculture, that \nadmitted as yet of considerable improvements, and so the means \nof subsistence in the country were augmented. Since the slaughter \nof war does not diminish population in Europe the difference of its \nincrease noticed between that part of the world and America, must \nbe accounted for entirely on the difference of action of the other \nchecks. And if the climate of Europe be considered as healthy as \nthat of the United States, of which very little doubt can be enter\xc2\xac \ntained the excess of mortality in the former must flow from sickness \noccasioned by excessive labour, unhealthy work long protracted, bad \nand scanty food, scarcity of clothes, bad and crowded lodgings, \nand all the other concomittants of poverty, and from the vice occasi\xc2\xac \noned by excessive riches and wretched poverty. Mr. Malthus here \nproceeds to substantiate these doctrines by facts, and takes a view \nof all the nations of the world, ancient and modern, barbarous \nand civilized, and shows in a most able manner how this principle \nhas acted on the whole of them. But here we will only observe, \nthat in a country where the population is greater than the means of \nemploying it, labour of course will not be in demand. The owners \nof capital will exact the greatest quantity of labour for the smallest \nportion of subsistence, consistent with the number of labourers, \nand the demand for labour. That is, a man will have to work \nmuch and fare badly. If he gets married, his offspring will not \nbe able to go through the hardships of such circumstances, and \nwill perish. It is probable that the greatest part of labourers in \nEurope are the children of poor proprietors, and not of those that \nhave nothing but their work, and that the classes between the high\xc2\xac \nest and the lowest, keep up the whole population of a country by \ncasual assent when fortune favors, and by a regular and gradual \n\n\n15 \n\n\n3 \xc2\xa36 \n\n\ndescent in the ordinary course of things. The children of a man \nthat has something, are naturally poorer than the father, for his \nproperty must be divided among many. That part of the popula\xc2\xac \ntion that remains out of employ on account of their inferior natu\xc2\xac \nral advantages, situation or events, must live either by charity as \nfar as this will go, and by prostitution or violence. These evils are \na permanent stream that sink in the grave the remainder of popu\xc2\xac \nlation over the means of subsistence, and cannot be stopped, but by \nthe preventive check. Any attempt to relieve the horrors of this \nprocess, by any other method, only tends to increase its violence. \nFor it augments the surplus of mouths, over the number of rations, \nby keeping alive a longer time those, that must at last die of mise\xc2\xac \nry, and by occasioning new births. Even if the human character \nwas some degrees superior to what it actually is, without the pre\xc2\xac \nventive check this course of tilings would take place in the same \nmanner. We must now speak of the means of subsistence, a sub\xc2\xac \nject already ably treated by Messrs. Smith, Say, Ganhil, Ricardo, \nand others. \n\nThe means of subsistence, is that stock from which food, rai\xc2\xac \nment, &c. is to be derived, and must be divided into territory, ca\xc2\xac \npital, and knowledge. Capital is, according to Adam Smith, that \nfund of food, clothes, lodging, and tools of every description, ne\xc2\xac \ncessary to maintain all the members of society, till the reproduc\xc2\xac \ntion of the same articles. A farmer cannot get a crop, without \nhaving at his disposal before hand, besides territory and knowledge, \nall the food, clothes, lodging, and tools, to be used by the la\xc2\xac \nbourers. Without this capital, that production cannot be obtained. \nThe case is the same with a nation, as with an individual; therefore \nthe quantity of labour will always be proportioned to the capital. \nNor is extent of territory sufficient. If to a new colony, with in\xc2\xac \ndefinite territory, a number of people would go, greater than the \nquantity of actual capital would allow, it is evident that they would \ncreate a famine, that would diminish the produce of next year, \nand the population. The difference of condition between the peo\xc2\xac \nple of the United States and Russia, is that of capital respecting \nthe population. They are both equally exuberant in territory.\xe2\x80\x94 \nThere is a natural tendency in capital to increase, from the princi\xc2\xac \nple, that man in general does not feel the want of such articles as \nhe is not accustomed to use, and his labour commonly exceeds the \nquantity of produce his habits demand. This accumulating princi\xc2\xac \nple, can be noticed even among the negroes of the plantations in \nthe West-Indies. Many of them are possessed of some hundred \ndollars, a few years after they come from Africa. Although Euro\xc2\xac \npean journeymen do not accumulate, from the hurry they are for \nmarrying, yet the possessors of capital do not equally expend all \ntheir revenue, and by means of these the capital of the nation must \nalways be on the increase, except, when counteracted by some great \ncause. This is that wish of bettering his condition, that has been \nascribed to man. But in reality, mankind can pretty nearly be di\xc2\xac \nvided into thoughtless dissipators, or equally thoughtless accumula\xc2\xac \ntors, according as their inclinations lead. Knowledge is the effect \nof capital. When in a hunting society, it was perceived, that \n\n\n16 \n\n\nsome animals were of such tame nature, bs might be kept near \nthe habitations of its members, for use in time of scarcity, those \nanimals, or that capita!, produced that knowledge. Again, after \nhaving been in possession of a certain increased capital of that \nkind, either by natural multiplication, or by the chase, they be\xc2\xac \ncome settled to a spot for a longer time, and had a chance of ob\xc2\xac \nserving the growth of nutritious vegetables from the seed, and of \ntaking advantage of this discovery. This advance towards agri\xc2\xac \nculture could never have been made without a stock of food from \ntame flocks or the well furnished forest or lake. If from this peri\xc2\xac \nod we proceed on to the highest state of culture, we will always \nperceive this alternate ascent of capital and knowledge. Accord\xc2\xac \ning to these principles, in those countries not covered with woods, \nand abounding with horned cattle, sheep, or horses, man must \nhave made comparatively rapid progress, and from them in all \nprobability, proceeded civilization. Whereas, where the country \nwas covered with forests, and nothing in them but animals of a \nwild nature, his improvement must be very slow. We believe ex\xc2\xac \nperience warrants this supposition. When society increases in ca\xc2\xac \npital, the demand for the product of agriculture, and arts, aug\xc2\xac \nments in the same proportion, and likewise competition. Persons \nof ingenuity improve the ordinary methods of working ; others \nmust adopt these improvents, or else they will not sell their effects, \nor get less for them. With the increase of riches, more refined \narts, such as music, poetry, painting, statuary, philosophy, &c. \ncome likewise in demand. Men of talents, and able to afford \nthemselves a good education, will dedicate themselves to these \npursuits. Printing will be discovered when the subservient arts be \nin a suitable state; it has been known in China time out of mind. AH \nthose who can afford it, will purchase the products of literature, if \nnot out of taste from ostentation, and to avoid the stigma of barbarity. \nThe circulation of books and newspapers, will stimulate the curiosity \nand guide the taste of those persons who are capable of mental im\xc2\xac \nprovement. Even poetry itself comes to reward its popular votaries \nwith something more than bare fame, by the sale of their works, with\xc2\xac \nout depending on the caprices of the great, that give themselves out \nfor the protectors of learning. Every body affects to profess tenets \nreceived among those considered as enlightened ; and by the means \nof these, the opinions of the people at large mend gradually, in a \ntraditionary manner, and upon trust. This proneness of mankind \nto be led in their opinions, is a wise and benevolent dispensation of \nProvidence; for if the caprice of independence of mind, could \nonce become general, life would be a continued scene of contro\xc2\xac \nversy, wrangling and complete insanity. And so, instead of ad\xc2\xac \nvising people to make use of their understanding, and judge for \nthemselves, the precept ought to be; follow established doctrines, \nfor it is a million to one, at least, that you will fall into some very \ngreat absurdity, the moment that you attempt to deviate. This, \nfar from stopping the progress of improvement, brought on by the \nmelioration of circumstances, would tend to free its path from the \nobstacles with which vanity lumbers it. Nor ought there to be any \nfear that men, that have made, or fancy they have made, any \n\n\n\n\nIf \n\ndiscovery, will keep it from the world by any consideration of th\xc2\xbb \nkind. When capital remains stationary, the improvement of soci\xc2\xac \nety becomes so likewise, as has been the case in China and in In\xc2\xac \ndia. Nay, even a society that has reached a high degree of im\xc2\xac \nprovement, will decay in knowledge as its capital diminishes. The \ndemand for the refined arts decreases, as also that for ordinary in\xc2\xac \ndustry ; and so dexterity must be by degrees neglected, and at last \nforgotten. Men of genius have no opportunity of cultivating their \ntalents, and if they did, themselves and works would pass unno\xc2\xac \nticed. This has been the case with Egypt, and with all those \ncountries that once were flourishing. No regulations of govern\xc2\xac \nment can stop this decay of culture, without correcting those evils \nwhich occasion the decay of capital : Nor bring on an enlightened \nstate of the nation, but by means of establishing that order of \nthings, that are the most fit for augmenting the capital. Adam \nSmith, says, that no government ever took any suitable steps to\xc2\xac \nwards this end. On the contrary, that the errors of their regu\xc2\xac \nlating systems, have been corrected by the principle of accumu\xc2\xac \nlation. \n\nCapital increases either by natural accumulation, or by a flux \nof it from other countries, by means of conquest or by commerce. \nCapital, like any other merchandize, will go where it can obtain \nbetter profits.\xe2\x80\x94(See Adam Smith.) Capital has likewise its po\xc2\xac \nsitive, and preventive checks. The preventive are, sterility of the \ncountry, scarcity of territory, and that men will not work, even if \nable, further than necessity will push them. Capital will increase \nwants, so that at the same time that what characterizes a civilized \nfrom a savage society, is capital; a proportionate increase of wants \ndistinguishes too the former from the latter. These wants are first \nintroduced by the desire of distinction of the rich, and followed by \nthe rest, as far as practicable, out of emulation. In a country where \nsome would be very rich, and the generality very poor, this emula\xc2\xac \ntion cannot take place; and the lower classes will satisfy themselves \nwith the bare necessaries, rather than work more than this re\xc2\xac \nquires, even if by so doing they could obtain some of the conveni\xc2\xac \nences ; for, as we have said before, men do not feel the want of \nthose things, to which they have not been accustomed, and what \nforms the principle of accumulation is too that of inercy. But \nwhere there is a gradation, every class emulates the one above it; \nand this is a continual spur, to wants, expences and industry. The \ndespotism of a government, w here a man may be deprived of his \nriches, by an order, or in the name of the tyrant, will put a stop to \nthe wish of acquiring them, and will prevent the employment of \nthose already got for fear of a discovery. Mistaken regulations and \nencouragements will divert capital from those channels, where it \nwould flow to the greatest advantage. All those laws and customs \nthat discourage foreigners in carrying or sending their capital into a \ncountry, tend to diminish the capital of that nation. When a per\xc2\xac \nson takes a capital into a country, and there augments it, he cre\xc2\xac \nates necessities and industry to that amount; even if be afterwards \ntakes it away, its place will be filled from the richer nations with \nmore or less promptitude, and certainty, as liberality and security \n\n\n18 \n\n\nmay be established, in the country where it is to go* It may here \nbe urged, that by this rule government influences the condition of \nthe people ; but we must observe, as we will see in the sequel, that \nin those circumstances the despot is tyrannical, because the people \nis miserable, and the people is not miserable because the despot \nis tyrannical. Take off the despot and an universal depredation \nwill take place, infinitely worse than the rapacity of the govern\xc2\xac \nment. Mistaken regulations proceed from the ignorance of the na\xc2\xac \ntion, and an enlightened sovereign could not do them away without \ndispleasing his subjects. The positive checks are war, that de\xc2\xac \nstroys capital in two modes; by the expense it causes, and by the des\xc2\xac \ntruction and plunder taken when an enemy enters the coun\xc2\xac \ntry. Luxury and ostentation, both of the government and indivi\xc2\xac \nduals are positive checks. The only advantage to be derived from \nthe quantity of food, raiment and lodging, that is employed in the \nformation of an elegant equipage, is the encouragement of some of \nthe arts. But if that capital has been invested in the improvement \nof a ground, or something similar, it would have been reproduced \nwith profit. Commerce with poor nations, is another check of this \nclass. This commerce must be carried on with capital of the richer \npeople. Let us take a view of the connection between England \nand Portugal. England sends first the manufactures, that are ne\xc2\xac \ncessary to purchase wine, furnishes the ships that are to transport \nthem : Has in Portugal factors, who advance funds to fanners. \nIn short, English capital goes there in every shape, in search of a \nbetter market. Much of it remains for ever, either on account of \nbankruptcies, or because many of the owners settle in that country \nentirely. But although the greatest part should return with profit, \nyet the increase of demand for capital proportioned to the increase \nof trade, keeps in that line a portion of w hich England is always \ndeprived. To make this point more clear, we will suppose a gen\xc2\xac \ntleman in London who has an estate in Russia, that yields a great \nprofit, but should be continually making such additions and im\xc2\xac \nprovements, as not only to absorb the whole revenue, but great \nsums besides. Can it be said that whilst he carries on this system, \nhe is adding to the riches of England? Colonies are of the same na\xc2\xac \nture as commerce vvitii the poorer nations, w ith the addition, that \nas the mother country can in them monopolize the trade more \ncompletely, profits are larger, and their tendency to impoverish hier \nis still greater. It was extensive colonization that retarded the pro\xc2\xac \ngress of Spain and Portugal. Their colonies were established at a \nperiod, when the capital of those nations could not be very great; \nas it is proved by the great difficulties Columbus had, in obtaining \nhis paltry equipment, eVen from a queen of Castile, sajiguine in the \nundertaking. An expedition, that now, the wives of some trades\xc2\xac \nmen, could fit out from their pin money. These nations, whatever \nmight be their comparative condition with others, were like the rest \nof Europe, just emerging from barbarity. (See Capmany\xe2\x80\x99s critical \nnotes.) The establishment of an empire, in such distant regions, \nand the carrying on of its commerce, drew from the mother coun\xc2\xac \ntry, the capital that ought to have fostered its prosperity. The \ni\xe2\x80\x9cage of embarking in colonial undertakings must have been xerf \n\n\n19 \n\n\n\ngreat; for soon after the discovery of America, there was a great \nnumber of towns of some importance, composed of white inhabi\xc2\xac \ntants, whose demands and trade increased daily. Every thing \nmust have been done with the capital of Europe. We are no long\xc2\xac \ner in a state of believing the accounts of powerful empires, prodi\xc2\xac \ngious quantities of gold, and other wonders of the hind, left us by \nthe conquerors, or discoverers of those countries, with a view of \nexciting our admiration towards their persons, or achievements, \nwhich certainly were very great, if we only consider their magni\xc2\xac \ntude; their novelty, the obstacles of nature, and the ignorance of \nthe extent of the perils, that were to be encountered. AH this \nwould appear to much greater advantage in its natural garb, than \ndisgraced with the monstrous atrocities that must have been com\xc2\xac \nmitted, if those fables had had any reality. No more credit ought tp \nbe given to the exaggerated accounts of Bartolome de las Casas. \nCuba, where he says so many Indians have been murdered, as \nwould not be supported in that Island, by the highest state of cul\xc2\xac \ntivation, is yet covered with impassable forests, of such a nature, on \naccount of the quality of the timber, as required thousands of years \nto be formed. All those countries were subdued by private adven\xc2\xac \nturers, without wealth or credit before their achievements. Hie \nmost insignificant of the African states, could not be subverted by \nsuch feeble means. Montezuma himself was but a naked savage, \nand not a vestige of his power or cities was discernible, jimnedtr \nately after the conquest of his dominions, by the Spaniards; when \nthe remains of an anterior people, of which no account could be \ngathered in his time, are still visible in many parts of that country, \nparticularly a whole and considerable city called Palenque, near \nthe Laguna de terminnos, in the province of Yucatan. The his\xc2\xac \ntory of the conquest of Mexico, by Solis, the most esteemed of \nthose narrations, ought to be considered as by far the best epic \npoem in existence, the Iliad itself not excepted. The events are \ninteresting, and poetically probable. The characters plausible, \nand the style noble and easy. That a fiction of that kind should \nso long pass for a true history, is not to be wondered at, if we con\xc2\xac \nsider, that the learned are yet looking out for the seat of Troy, and \nfor the palaces of Priam : Although it is evident from Homer\xe2\x80\x99s \ndiscrtptions, that the kings that besieged that famous city, were \nonly herdsmen, not more than tolerably at their ease, and not over \npolite. Whatever might be the state of Spain, in the reign of \nCharles the Vth. certain it is, that at the beginning of the reign of \nPhilip the Vth. she only contained six millions of inhabitants, (as \nit. is asserted by the most creditable writers) and those very poor-w \nThere was not a man among the natives, of scientific or literary \nnote, not a proficient surgeon , not one capable of directing a road, \nor a canal. Charles the IUd. had to take all such person from \nFrance. From that period the population has increased to eleven \nmillions; knowledge of every description, and every thing else, \nhas progressed in a much greater proportion. The only satisfacto\xc2\xac \nry cause we can find for such melioration, is that other nations of \nEurope, having grown richer than Spain, their capital went there \nin search of greater profit, and by the means of this the draining \n\n\n20 \n\n\nto the colonies was counteracted. The same is the principal source \nof the improvement of Russia. If Peter the Great had never exist\xc2\xac \ned, things, in all probability, would have gone on pretty much \nthe same as they have. Hume says, u That the depression of the \nlords, and rise of the commons in England, after the statutes of \nalienation, and the increase of trade, and industry, are more easily \naccounted for by general principles, than the depression of the \nSpanish, and rise of the French monarchies, after the death of \nCharles the Vth. Had Henry the IVth, Cardinal Richelieu, and \nLouis the XlVth. been Spaniards, and Philip the II. III. and IVth. \nand Charles II. been Frenchmen, the history of these nations would \nhave been reversed.\xe2\x80\x9d If Mr. Hume said, had the French discov\xc2\xac \nered and colonized America, instead of the Spaniards, that the his\xc2\xac \ntory of these nations would have been reversed, the matter would \nhave come nearer the fact, and be as easily accounted for by gene\xc2\xac \nral principles, as the depression of the lords, and the rise of the \ncommons in England, that is, by the increase of industrious capital \nin England, and by the decrease of it in Spain, at least in a com\xc2\xac \nparative ratio, with France. If other nations did not feel the effect \nof colonization so perceptibly as Spain and Portugal, it was that \nthey did not undertake it in so extensive a manner, or that they \nwere already in a state of bearing better such drainings, when \nthey adopted that system. Another positive check to capital, is \nthe mortality of persons of alt ages, before they have replaced \nby their labour, that part they have consumed to the period of \ntheir death. How mu h by this check capital must be affected, \nmay be noticed in the checks to population above enumerated. \nThe last check to capital, is the tendency of population to in\xc2\xac \ncrease beyond the means of subsistence. The profit of stock and \nthe wages of labour in every department, is regulated as has been \nStablished by Mr. Ricardo, by that of agriculture. When a nation \nmanufactures her own commodities, it is evident that the profit of \nthis branch of industry cannot be greater nor inferior, all things \nconsidered, than that of agriculture for capital passing from one \nto the other, will soon put them on a level. The same is the case if \nshe exports commodities to a great profit. The inferior lands will \nnot then be cultivated. The demand for the produce of the earth, \nwill raise its price at home, as also, where it is purchased. Ano\xc2\xac \nther reason why agric ulture must regulate the price of labour and \nprofit of stock, is that by far the greatest expenditure of a nation \nis in food, as it is the most necessary to man. The greatest partjof \nthe price, even of the superfluities, is the food employed in their pro\xc2\xac \nduction, and so a much larger capital must be employed at home or \nabroad, in raising this article than any other. The produce of la\xc2\xac \nbour in agriculture is too less liable of being increased by ingenuity. \nA piece of land in the highest improvement, will not yield double, \nthan when only tolerably cultivated. The labouring individuals ofa \nrich nation, excel those of a poor one in their dress and furniture, ra\xc2\xac \nther than in their food. It is agriculture too that keeps manufacturing \ncapital from sinking to the lowest rate of profit; suppose that Eng\xc2\xac \nland had no lands to cultivate, her population could only be what \nthe demand for her manufactures would require., and the increasing \n\n\n21 \n\n\n\nsurplus of capital would have to go to other countries, or else the \nprofits would become the lowest possible, and the capital perish at \nlast: for the owners would have to live on the principal, having no \nprofits. When a nation comes to that state of population and capi\xc2\xac \ntal, that her most inferior lands are brought under cultivation, all \nher other branches of industry are equally carried to all demand.\xe2\x80\x94 \nLabour is little productive. The profit of stock and wages very \nlow, rent very high, and the ostentation of the land holder very \ngreat. In these circumstances, if an extensive new branch of in\xc2\xac \ndustry is not discovered, the tendency of the population to increase, \nwill press so hard against the demand of labour, that those that \nhave nothing but their industry cannot live. All the small capitals \nare eaten up, and only the great ones can be preserved. By this \nprocess, the very inferior lands cease to be cultivated, and labour \nis again productive ; but as the fare of the labourer has been reduc\xc2\xac \ned to the meanest possible, and as the demand for labour does not \nincrease as fast as population, interest of stock and rent of laud \nis high, and the generality of the people miserable. This has pro\xc2\xac \nbably been the course of China. But, if besides this by the in\xc2\xac \ncrease of industry in other nations, a people in this state has been \ndeprived of a great part of her foreign trade, capital will perish \nfaster than in the anterior case, and the condition of the people be\xc2\xac \ncome more retrograde. This seems to have been the process of the \ndifferent states of India. By this we perceive, that the exportation \nor destruction of capital, is highly beneficial to a nation after she \ncomes to a certain degree of improvement. In this point of view, \nthe national debt of England has not been so detrimental to her, as \nsome have imagined. That capital, it is true, might have gone to \nother countries, and there create demand for her industry ; but if it \nhad remained at home, it would have accelerated that dismal period \nwhen a nation becomes retrograde. The milortune of England is \nnot her debt, it is that she has too much capital, and too much po\xc2\xac \npulation respecting her territory. If the interest of the debt did \nnot act as check on her capital, the evil would be still greater, for \nthe profit of stock would be smaller, and the population greater, \nand of course the recompence of labour more reduced. When the \npopulation of a nation is too great for her capital, which more or \nless is the condition of every country. If there is an ample terri\xc2\xac \ntory, the people are in a progressive state, as soon as they cease to \nbe savage. But if capital does not flow there from other countries, \nthis progress will be very slow until the gradual introduction of \nsome degree of general luxury. For luxury, although a check to \ncapital, is still a greater one on population, and so capital increases \nfaster than before, respecting population. Besides, that the poorer \na nation is, the greater are those other checks to capital that pro\xc2\xac \nceed from tyranny and ignorance. But when the population is too \nlarge for the territory, which cannot be the case without the nation \nhaving had a very large capital, then she will retrograde till she \ncomes to a certain point, where she will remain stationary. That \nis, if the face of nature itself does not deteriorate a thing not im\xc2\xac \nprobable. Certainly the pyramids of Egypt, and those cities w hose \nruins are to be found in the deserts of Africa, w'ere never built in \nsuch looking places as they now stand in. \n\n\n22 \n\n|^ow we will examine the effect of the state of capital on gow \nernments. But before we proceed, we must take into consideration \nthe difference between a country with a large capital, and one with \nlarge capitalists. England has more great capitalists than the \nUnited States, but this last, if we value what is possessed or manage \ned by every individual there, has more capital respecting the popu\xc2\xac \nlation. We must likewise make a difference between riches and \ncapital. Rifhes are large portionsof capital possessed by a single in* \ndividual Of course a country with large capitals can make a great\xc2\xac \ner display of riches, than one with greater capitalits more divided. \nThere may be a carriage and an elegant house in a town, where \nthere is an inhabitant worth <\xc2\xa3100,000, and this cannot take place \nwhere there is two thousand worth \xc2\xa32000 each. Government will \nlikewise have greater facility in raising any sum, either in taxes or \nby loans from opulent men, than from a greater number of people \npossessing the same property among them. A single individual worth \n\xc2\xa310,000, can better spare \xc2\xa31000, than one hundred persons pos* \nsessed of \xc2\xa3100 each. The one infringes only on his ostentation for \nthis purpose, the others on their conveniences or necessaries. The \ncapital of England is also crowded together in a smaller compass, \nand so the country is more improved. k That of the United States \nspread over a very large surface. As capital is more productive ia \nthe United States, for only lands of the first quality are there culti\xc2\xac \nvated\xe2\x80\x94it goes from England to the United States. \n\nIn a savage state, that is, when society is entirely destitute of \ncapital of any importance, men are pretty equal. The only dif\xc2\xac \nference is that of natural advantages, and these will never enable \nany one to command any portion of subsistence, that others will \nHot be able to get almost as well. Thus no one will depend or be \nmaster of another. Their chiefs can only be their leaders in war, or \ntheir orators in council. But when some of the society acquire flocks, \nmany will be willing to relinquish the fatigues and uncertainty of the \nehace, and be the dependants of those, that have subsistence to \ndispose of At last the richest of these herdsmen become charac\xc2\xac \nters of importance. Their weaker neighbours must adhere to some \nof them for protection. Here we have the patriarchal, or pastoral \ngovernments, as described in sacred and profane history, and as they \nare to be seen among the Arabs and Tartars. As yet there is no writ\xc2\xac \nten laws. Every chief decides in all cases, according to his judgment. \nWe may now perceive the commencement of slavery. The lord of the \nflock will soon make a very little difference between the servant born \nunder his power, and the bullock reared in his flock. When the \nnumber of his dependants was small, so that he saw them every \nday eat and lived with them, the condition of a servant was more \nlike that of a free dependant, than of a slave. But as soon as the \nnumber augmented, so that their relative distance increased much, \nand captives over whom the conqueror imagined himself with ab* \nsolute dominion, were introduced, slavery took its wonted appear\xc2\xac \nance. When a herdsman became very powerful, and his flocks \ntoo numerous for continual changing of residence, necessity indicated \nagriculture. He parcelled out lands to his dependants, and ruled over \nthem in the same manner as before. This appears to have been the \n\n\nfthte of Greece as described in the fliad, which was probably as it \nwas in the time of Homer. Ulysses was king of ltaca. His dominions \nwere a property small enough for a private gentleman, particularly \nif we consider the state of cultivation they must have been in. It \nseems that Greece was made up of this sort of kings, their families, \nand slaves. Nor was the state of Europe very different from this, \nsome centuries ago. The continual broils of these gentlemen, \nmust have produced many confederacies among them. The war \nof Troy was occasioned by the elopement of a lady. The House \nof Priam, was of sufficient power to call forth all Greece to arms \nagainst it. And although most, if not all, of what is related of that \nfamous siege, is certainly fabulous, yet similar transactions must be \ncommon in that state of society. These frequent confederacies \nbrought the necessity of a head to command them in war, levy the \nnecessary contributions, and adopt such general regulations as their \nmutual defence required. The most powerful of these federated \nkings, or barons, would become their chief. A place of meeting \nWould be appointed, where the general interest would be discussed; \nwhich must naturally be the residence of their chief. And now we \nalready have something similar to what passed in the allodial and \nfeudal systems. The necessity of defence and custom, kept these \nbarons together, as a nation, but the spirit of division and jealousy, \nso natural to man, often produced broils among themselves, and \ninsubordination to their chief, whom we will now call king. In \nthe strife between the king for power, and the barons for inde\xc2\xac \npendence, the formation of towns, as Dr. Smith ably points out, \nwas what turned the balance in favo tr of the king. Some spot \nmust be fixed to carry on the commerce or exchange, that was \nthen practised. Taverns of some sort must soon be established \nto afford necessaries to dealers, then stores, then different sorts \n\xc2\xa9f tradesmen. When these places were sufficiently populous, the \nking would court their adherence by the offer of franchises, and \nlend them his force to shake off the galling yoke of the lords. The \nfacility with which they could form into a militia, and fortify them\xc2\xac \nselves, the increase of their property, more rapid than in the \ncountry, made them powerful allies of the crown, whose favour it \nwas their interest to court, as much as that of the crown to receive \ntheir aid. The towns now too send deputies to the assembly.\xe2\x80\x94 \nFrom this time the importance of the barons decays every day.\xe2\x80\x94 \nThe crown takes from them their power of legislation over their \nvassals, and invests it in that assembly, that before was only intend\xc2\xac \ned to regulate measures of mutual defence. Now not only the \ngeneral assembly makes the laws, but the judges are appointed by \nthe crown. After this the barons themselves are gradually stripped \nof their personal privileges, and reduced to the level of ordinary \nsubjects. Retaining almost no advantage over them, but what \nflowed from their wealth. Thus the independence of the people, \noriginated in the broils between the king and his barons, (See \nRobertson\xe2\x80\x99s Charles V.) and gained ground with royal preroga\xc2\xac \ntive. But now the king, master of the whole force of the country, \nbecomes absolute alike over all. The barons too join him against \nthe people; because feeling themselves impotent to revive their \n\n\n\n24 \n\n\n4s \n\n\nancient pretentions to power, are afraid of being assimilated to \nwhat they call the mob. Although the commoners may be \ntoo rich to be slaves, they are not sufficiently so to be rulers. The \nbarons have been dispossessed of their great perogatives, but retain \nyet a great proportion of the wealth of the nation ; therefore have \nmany adherents among the commonalty, to whom they may be of \nservice, by leases of land, employment in their household, or inter* \nest at court. But noblemen by their haoits, and rivalship of osten\xc2\xac \ntation with each other, tend to be losing in point of property, \nwhilst the commoners by their industry, gain daily on that ground. \nAs noblemen grow comparatively poor, adherents pass from one \nclass to another. A number of tolerable rich farmers, manufac\xc2\xac \nturers, and merchants, will balance the influence of any nobleman, \nwith regard to the number of people they can employ. Tolerably \nrich are mentioned, because opulence is the only efficient nobility. \nAs these different classes prevail by their property, the notions and \nprejudices of each body, will direct the measures of government. \nWhen the opulent have the direction, measures will be such as will \ntend to secure distinction for themselves and families, (here is the \norigin of titles, entailments &c.j and to the military glory and \nsplendour of the nation ; for every one of them will expect to have \na very conspicuous share in those things. Where commoners have \nthe upper hand, measures will be intended for the promotion of the \nfranchises of the people, and the encouragement of trade and in\xc2\xac \ndustry. And although their resolutions by embarassing the natural \ncouise of things, will for the most part be of a tendency to pro\xc2\xac \nduce the contrary effect, yet the principle of accumulation will \ncounteract their blunders This is the most natural, although not \nthe necessary process of a people. Conquests and colonies will \nmake considerable alterations, by introducing or extracting capi\xc2\xac \ntal. Likewise, when the king became absolute by the rival power \nof nobles and commoners, he may dissolve or cease to call the nati\xc2\xac \nonal assembly. But this causes no substantial difference. If the \nassembly is continued, it will only be a passive tool to the views of \nthe crown, until property turning the balance in favor of the nobles, \nor the commoners, government becomes popular or aristocratical. \nIf the assembly has been dissolved, as the nation grow rich and ad\xc2\xac \nvanced, transactions are more complicated\xe2\x80\x94the old system every \nday is more embarrassing\xe2\x80\x94a new order of things is absolutely ne\xc2\xac \ncessary\xe2\x80\x94a council of some sort is formed\xe2\x80\x94and the government, as \nwhen the assembly remained, becomes aristocratical, or popular, \nas the state of property will direct. Many nations have not pass\xc2\xac \ned through the pastoral state, but turned agriculturalists, from \nhunters or fishers. In that case as men get settled to a spot, they \nbecome objects of prey to their neighbours, in equal circumstances. \nThey have a stock of provisions\xe2\x80\x94themselves may be useful slaves : \nand so their chief will seize upon greater power, and at last be \ntheir master. For there is no alternative between serving abroad, \nor obeying at home. In this inclination of mankind to brutal force, \nand to kidnap and waylay each other, the origin duelling may be \ntraced. When barbarians h id overcome something of their gros\xc2\xac \nsest ferocity, they began to prefer the additional risk of an open \n\n\n\n%o \n\nattack, to the continual anxiety and apprehension from the plots \nof others, and so they agreed to give each other notice, wher \xc2\xbb! cy \nintended hostility. Such is our proneness to follow custx n;, f< r *! e \nwant ot a better guide, that because our ancestors considered it \ncowardice, not to do themselves justice with their swords, v 1 en \nthere was no other method of obtaining it, nor no other rule of \nright established but personal force; we must appeal to private \nbattles, although now perfectly out of all sense, and in entire con\xc2\xac \ntradiction with the state of society. Those countries where duel\xc2\xac \nling has not been practised, passed at once, by colonies, or com\xc2\xac \nmerce, from that condition for which it was too soon, to that f r \nwhich it was too late. And the only method to put a stop to it now, \nwould be the complete and unavoidable ruin of all parties con\xc2\xac \ncerned, so as to shelter in a creditable manner, the natural love of \nlife, against the assaults of vanity. Or perhaps some degrading or \nridiculing punishments would answer better, such as flogging in a \npublic place, or putting in the pillory, with a barber\xe2\x80\x99s bason on \nthe head, , as Cervantes represents Don Quixotte. But if there is a \nlaw difficult to pass, and still more difficult to execute it is this: \nFor what legislator, or officer of government, can be willing to \noccasion the least suspicion of his cowardice ? We are all extreme\xc2\xac \nly ingenious at hiding our faults. \n\nFrom the anterior facts,the following principles must be drawn: \nThat the nature and laws of every country must be the effect of the \ncondition of the people. The condition of the people is caused by \nthe quantity of lands and capital, respecting the population and fa\xc2\xac \ncility of providing for the natural growth of population. When \nthe capital of a nation is small, there cannot be a great number of \ncapitalists, for if many respecting the population have capital, even \nif moderate, that of the nation cannot be small. Again, the ca\xc2\xac \npital of a nation cannot be great when there is only few capalists, \nlet these be ever so opulent. It follows of course that a large na\xc2\xac \ntional capital must be in many hands, a small one in few. A very \nrich person does not feel the stimulus of want to industry and is \ninclined to ease and ostentation. Land is the most desirable source \nof revenue for such an individual; as it is of no use without \ncapital to cultivate it. He that has a small piece of land and no \ncapital will sell it; and so where the capital is small, the lands too \nwill accumulate in few hands by feudalism or purchase. As the \ncapital of a nation grows large, respecting the population, and un\xc2\xac \ntil foreign trade, or manufactures be established to a considerable \nextent. The gradual accumulation of riches will be inverted in \nlands as almost the only method of securing a revenue. In a na\xc2\xac \ntion with an extensive foreign commerce and manufactures, only \nopulent persons think of having landed estates\xe2\x80\x94the rest either \nfarm tracts of land, or employ their capital in undertakings from \nwhich they expect greater profits, the laws^ will follow this direc\xc2\xac \ntion given by capital, where the lands are in few hands either by \nwant of capital or by the purchases of the opulent, the possessors \nwill try to keep their estates entire, for the lustre of their families \nby entailments as far their urgencies will allow. When the lands \nhave been divided, as no brilliancy can reflect to families by such. \n\nJD \n\n\n26 \n\n\n\nsmall possessions; and as the owners have no credit to pass laws, \nthe lands remain free for alienation. A nation becomes mercan\xc2\xac \ntile and manufacturing, when by the extent of her capital, and \nof course of her population, she has to cultivate worse lands than \nher neighbours. Now from the want of capacity in the mass of \nmen their spirit of disagreement and distrust, their wish of pre\xc2\xac \nference, their dependence on the dispensators of subsistence, pro\xc2\xac \nceeding from the too ample stock of labourers, the owners of \ncapital and of land will always govern, and this too according to \ntheir views, that is their interest; and so when there is no capital, a \nnation must be in the hunting state, and individuals in savage in\xc2\xac \ndependence. \n\nWhen the capital of a nation is so small that it does not afford \nthe means of maintaining an army, the country will be governed by \npetty tyrants independent of each other, who, as they are the ow\xc2\xac \nners of the persons of their subjects, will be so too of their lands \n\nWhere capital is small, yet sufficient to maintain an army, a \nmonarchy will be established either by conquest or by the aid of \ntowns, or of some of the barons disaffected from the rest, and it \nwill be a despotic one, that is where the army is essential to the \nexistence of government; and where there is no written laws, but \nofficers of government decide in all cases, according to custom, or \ntheir notion of things. If from this state capital diminishes, so as \nnot to afford the maintenance of an army, the monarchy will dis\xc2\xac \nsolve into petty feudalities. If it increases, busines becoming more \ncomplicated, written laws will be necessary, and the government \nwill grow into an aristocracy, if property has augmented by con\xc2\xac \nquest, or incline to popularity, if by industry. \n\nWhere there is a considerable capital, but the greatest part in the \nhands of a few, and some in the hands of many, government \nwill be aristocratical. There cannot be much capital, where the \ncommoners are entirely destitute ; for there will be no industry.\xe2\x80\x94 \nAristocracy approaches the condition of a commoner, to that of a \nslave, more than even despotism. \n\nWe must make a difference between feudality and aristocracy. \nIn feudality, each baron governs a separate district with independ\xc2\xac \nent authority. In aristocracy the whole country is governed by \nthe opulent collectively. \n\nWhen capital is considerable, and pretty equally divided between \nthe opulent and the commoners, the government will bean abso\xc2\xac \nlute an hereditary monarchy, and the monarch will have infinitely \nmore power, than with despotism ; for he may command at least \none half of the force of the nation, against the other half, with \nthe advantage of unanimity and order, against disagreement and \nconfusion. Whereas, when he is despotic, he has to be continu\xc2\xac \nally submitting to the frantic caprices of the lawless rabble, that in \nthose circumstances form the army. In an absolute monarchy, the \narmy is not essential to the existence of the government. It is kept \nfor foreign war, and to quell partial disorders. It is distributed at \ndifferent points in small parties. If there is no political division in \ntine nation, a combination of the chiefs against their sovereign is \nscarcely practicable, oil account of their mutual jealousies, and the \n\n\n27 \n\n\n\nWant of provision to maintain their forces together for any time, \nas to overcome the resistence that maybe found in the other orders \nof the people. In short, each and all themambers of the army, de\xc2\xac \npend on the sovereign, instead of the sovereign depending on them \nBut in a despotic government the sovereign depends on them, and \nmore particularly on his life guard. His deposition and beheading, \nis such a common occurrence, that the chiefs of that guard, come \nto be looked upon, as the real heads of the state, and the other \nbranches of the army will follow them, with more or less obedience \nas circumstances may stand. The throne can only be elective in \nfeudalism, in pure democracy, a pure aristocracy, or in despotism. \nAs soon as the monarch has the whole, or a considerable part of \nthe power, he naturally secures the succession in his family, which \ncircumstance, fortunateIy r , is the most suited to the interest of the \nnation, as it avoids the disorders of election. \n\nWhere the capital is large, and the greatest part in the hands of \nthe commoners, the government will tend to popularity, w hilst there \nbe an easy discharge to increasing population; but as soon as this \nis wanted, if by having no foreign trade or other events, the \nlands and capital come to be so divided, that there is few opulent \nmen ; the government must he an absolute monarchy, for the \ncouncils having no clear interest of their own to follow, will enter \nthe fields of speculation, and of course of vision. Their constitu\xc2\xac \nents not being bound to them by dependence for subsistence, will \nnot sustain their authority. Distress will introduce trouble, anar\xc2\xac \nchy and despotism ; but whilst the power be in the hands of the \nmonarch, there will be as much practical liberty as needed, for the \nnation is not in circumstances suitable to a barbarous tyranny. For \nthe same reasons, the monarch, provided that he does not call on \nthe wits of his subjects, is sure on his throne, until the too great \nexcess of population over the means of subsistence again bring on \nbarbarity. By this means we see that the too great subdivision of \nland, where it is not very abundant, is equally inimical to the liber\xc2\xac \nty and to the happiness of the people, by breaking subordination, \nand by encouraging population. The labourer fares better in a \nnation not over burthened with people and with a large capital \nthan a small proprietor in an over peopled country. The number \nof common labourers is also greater in the latter than in the former. \nHe that has a small piece of land and a cabbin, cannot resist the \ntemptation to marry, lowers his fare, and brings up a family in rags. \nMr. Malthus has already treated this subject completely. We are \nafraid that in France, lands are too subdivided both for the present \norder of her government, and for the future prosperity of her \npeople. \n\nA country tends to aristocracy, despotism or feudality when its \ncapital decays, or when all its branches of industry are brought to \nsuch a degree of fullness that population presses hard against the \nmeans of subsistence, or when it grows rich by conquest. Not \nmuch equality can take place in the division of the spoils of the \nvanquished. Likewise fine climates have a tendency to servility ; \nas the wants are there few, men find less difficulty in early mar\xc2\xac \nriages, and in rearing their offspring, and the country is more \n\n\noverstocked with inhabitants, than in the severer climates. Wher6 \nb \xe2\x96\xa0 < ver houses, more clothes, and tire-wood are necessary, appetite \nis keener, vegetation not so abundant, people must abstain more \nfrom marriage, or else want will soon correct their error. Many \nwretches too, perish, that in the milder regions would protract \ntheir misery, and contribute that of others. The extreme differ\xc2\xac \nence in the condition of the casts in India, proceed from this en\xc2\xac \ntirely. The higher orders are in the absolute possession of all the \nweaith and industry of the nation. It is as natural in a father to \nteach his trade to his children, when he knows lie cannot have \nany other method of getting their livelihood, as it is to leave them \nhis property at his death. Besides, luxury, pride, and other cir\xc2\xac \ncumstances in a great measure stop births in the higher classes; \nand likewise it is probable, that there, like in Europe, the surplus \nof population of those classes discharges itself by degrees in the \nlower ones, whilst the fine climate and sobriety of India, multiply \nthe miserable paria, so much beyond what he is wanted, that he is \nvalued less than the most contemptible beast. Any body has a \nright to kill, or treat him at pleasure. His very sight stains the \npurity of the other casts. Let benevolent philosophers, recollect, \nnow, that accounts of any thing like benevolence, or generosity, \nin a community, always turn out to be either the sketches of fancy \nentirely, or else transient, very circumscribed, and largely exag\xc2\xac \ngerated instances: whilst every description of brutality, even if \nby its magnitude looks like the portrait of a disordered imagina\xc2\xac \ntion, finds reality in life among very polished nations, and in those \ntoo, whose civilization loses itself in the obscurity of time. In the \npower of population over subsistence, we may find too, the cause \nof polygamy. Where men are of so little value, that by their \ncomparative boldness and strength are so much more fit to produce \nfood, women must of course he slaves, and their masters will take \nas many, as will suit their convenience, or caprice. A harem in \nthe east, is one of the customary manners of ostentation, the same \nas a large retinue of livery negroes in the West-Indies. \n\nBy oe foregoing observations, we perceive, that under any \nnames for the institutions of government, there may be as much \nfreedom or slavery, as under any other, if by freedom we under\xc2\xac \nstand independence. We conceive, that an obscure individual, \nwith some property, is really more free in Algiers, than a servant \nin the United States Anv attempts to bring on, or keep a state of \nSociety, that does not suit the situation of property, are perfectly \nuseless on account of the character of mankind, and of their mu\xc2\xac \ntual dependence for subsistence. It may well he said, that every \ncountry enjoys all the practical liberty , of which it is capable , in its \ncondition ; and that no country can be kept long from the liberty , \nthat in its circumstances it can enjoy. ISo improvement in a gov\xc2\xac \nernment can come but from itself. The moment that the power of \nthe existing authorities are weakened by sudden regulations, the \ncountry must fail into anarchy, if that is not counteracted by some \ngrr t cause. And this even, if all parties are agreed as to the ends \nof ie reforms, and if the private views of individuals do not \ncome into action. Tilings utterly impossible. But if they weie \n\n\n3\xe2\x80\x98klr' \n\n\n29 \n\npossible, there would be so much disagreement as to the means, \ns.' ouch vis ion brought forward, that nothing could come to any \nsubstance. Of this we have had the clearest proof in France.\xe2\x80\x94 \nThe French enjoyed before the revolution, all or nearly all the \npractical liberty that their condition would allow. The only griev\xc2\xac \nance of any consequence they could complain of, was the unequal \ndistribution of the public burthens. The bastiles, lettersdecachees, \n&:c. were nothing but the decayed remains of a salutary despotism \nin the hands of the crown, against turbulent noblemen. No sov\xc2\xac \nereign was ever more ready to give up any part of bis authority. \nSome of the nobles and clergy were equally well disposed ; and the \nking and the commoners were strong enough to have awed, without \na struggle, the refractory into any compliance. An assembly is \ncalled to level the burthens, and to give forms to the substances \nthat existed already, and the nation falls in the most dreadful con\xc2\xac \nfusion. The temporary melioration which we perceive in that \nkingdom, proceeded by chance from a cause of which the revolu\xc2\xac \ntionary legislators and reformers had no conception, that is, the \nwar that threw the capital of foreign trade, into the improvement \nof the interior of the country. The deficit in the finances was \ntoo inconsiderable for a country of the resources of France, to be \nthe cause of the revolution. And of much less power could have \nbeen the idle speculations of the philosophers. The same revolu\xc2\xac \ntion took place in England without such deficit, and the dreams of \nequality have heated the brains of visionaries, and are the favorite \ntopic of the populace at all times in all countries. The real cause \nwas in both countries, that the executive lost its authority. In \nEngland the monarch tried an out-stretch of royal prerogative, \nthat the state of property did not warrant without going far enough \nin the means. Such things are not to be done by halves. In \nFrance the king called on an assembly not m use, to make those \nreforms he ought to have made himself. If a monarch does not \nforce against the state of property, and if he does not call on his \nsubjects for reforms, he has no need of fearing rebellions in a tole\xc2\xac \nrable civilized country. For the stupidity and spirit of jealousy \nand division, which is the nature of man, wili enable him to go \nmuch further in the momentary exercise of power, than what the \nstate of property will warrant. Nothing but a very perceptible \nand urgent common interest can keep men together for a length of \ntime, sufficient to effect any thing of importance. FortheJ same \nreason, when a country has once fallen into anarchy, it cannot re\xc2\xac \ncover its natural position, that is, that order of things suitable \nto its state of capital, by any other means but despotism. Perhaps \nno wiser act of government ever took place in Europe, than the \ndecree of Ferdinand the Vllth. of Spain, dissolving the Cortes, \nand placing every thing on the same footing as it was before his de\xc2\xac \nparture. Which act has the more merit, when we consider the \nmany plausible decrees that the Cortes had passed. If the United \nStates did not fall into anarchy at their separation from Great Bri\xc2\xac \ntain, it was owing to the smallness of their towns, where almost \nall the inhabitants had to work for their daily bread\xe2\x80\x94and the great \ndistance between these towns. There were no wealthy men to put \n\n\n30 \n\nthings in motion, nor people in desperate circumstances to riot.-*- \nThe population of the country, although thin, was sufficiently \nnear, not to allow the towns to dictate to them entirely. This is \nwhat even now keeps that government from dissolution. The rup- \nture had its origin in the jealousy,between Englishmen of one side of \nthe water, and those of the other side. Reason, the most efficient to \nproduce a separation, whenever the Americans should think them\xc2\xac \nselves strong enough to begin the fray. This is the cause of that \nsurprising unanimity that pervaded the whole country from north \nto south, when there was so little motive to complain of the op\xc2\xac \npression of the mother country. This circumstance put in motion \nthose persons who were fond of distinction. The provinces conti\xc2\xac \nnued governing themselves the same as before. They formed a \ncongress for the purpose of providing the means of defence The \ndifficulty of subjugating a territory so very extensive, and the \nblunders, that it was natural enough the British should commit, \ngave of course success to their American colonies. To principles \nof the same sort we may ascribe the late successful struggle of the \nSpaniards against the French. The natural enmity between man and \nman, animated the Spaniards against the French, and when insulted \nin a glaring manner, so as tovouse the indignation of the whole \npeople at once, a fray took place. There is always in that \ncountry a sufficient portion of the population disposed to an adven\xc2\xac \nturous life, owing to that as the capital of the nation is small, it \ncannot give a sure and liberally paid employment to all its mem\xc2\xac \nbers, from this source numberless guarrallas sprung up. The blun\xc2\xac \nders of the French, the English aid, and the events of Russia, \nbrought things to an issue, that certainly cannot be ascribed to the \nwisdom of a government whose authority scarcely extended fur\xc2\xac \nther than the walls of Cadiz. The French army kept^away an\xc2\xac \narchy. \n\nIn the hunting state, man is savage in morality. \n\nIn a state of slavery, he is barbarous. \n\nUnder despotism, he is rude. \n\nUnder aristocracy, he is proflagate without limits. The great \nvie each with the other in their excesses, which become com\xc2\xac \nmendable, for as man in general has no judgement to discrimi\xc2\xac \nnate between right and wrong, virtue and vice, he establishes his \nopinions by what is practiced by the greatest part of those he re\xc2\xac \nputes in respectable circumstances. The small are proud to imi\xc2\xac \ntate the vices of their masters, and besides have many of their \nown. \n\nIn absolute monarchy, profligacy has some discountenance from \nthose that cannot indulge in it, hut live decently by good behaviour. \n\nIn popular governments, as few can indulge in vice, compared \nto those that, by industry and care, may have the conveniences of \nlife, the people in general declaim against excesses, to console \nthemselves for not being able to practise them, become puritanical, \nand cant virtue. But what they gain in regularity of conduct, they \nlose in loyalty to each other. As few are sufficiently rich to be \nabove anxiety, and all can by care and diligence, enjoy some con\xc2\xac \nvenience, they are close and overreaching in their dealings; they \n\n\n3 ^ \n\n\n31 \n\nwill take every advantage that the risk of a glaring loss of reputa\xc2\xac \ntion will allow, and so are notably selfish in the disposal of their \nmeans, and services. Although by the competition of capital \namong them the wish of gain, and their incapacity of discrimina\xc2\xac \ntion, they will sell on credit with facility, and not be very particu\xc2\xac \nlar to whom they trust. \n\nWe will divide want into poverty, or the scanty fare of the la\xc2\xbb \nbourer, and misery, or the want of a living of any kind. \n\nIn the hunting state, poverty is very great, so as to be misery.\xe2\x80\x94 \nA savage is more liable to entire want, than any person in a civili\xc2\xac \nzed society. \n\nIn a state of slavery, poverty is greater, and misery not so great, \nas in any state of civilization. The master will employ, sell, or kill \nall his slaves. Proofs of this last, are the gladiator shows, and the \ns laughter of servants at funerals in practice among some nations. \n\nUnder despotism, poverty is pot so great, but misery greater \nthan in the anterior states, for population increases faster, than \nwhat is wanted. \n\nUnder aristocracy, poverty and misery will be greater than in \nany order of civilized society, for the commoner has the disadvan\xc2\xac \ntages of the slave, without his advantages. \n\nUnder monarchy, poverty is much smaller, than under any of \nthe anterior governments, but misery is greater than where the peo*- \nis in slavery. \n\nIn popular governments, there ought to be much less poverty \nand misery, than under any of the other states of society: but if \nit is a largely manufacturing country, misery may sometimes be \ngreater, than any where else as the wife and children can earn some\xc2\xac \nthing, and so births exceed demand. Also the alternatives of trade, \nthrow for a while many people out of occupation, and the tempta* \ntion to vice there is in manufacturing places, will increase that cala\xc2\xac \nmity. \n\nManners, under a despotic government, are rude and crafty, and \nthe way of living, coarse and not neat, for the want of riches. \n\nUnder aristocracy, the great are arrogant, the small servile. The \nmanner of living ostentatious on the one hand, and mean on the \nother. There will be a ridiculous mixture of grandeur and shabi- \nness. \n\nUnder absolute monarchy, manners are refined, there is an affec\xc2\xac \ntation of elevated sentiment, for the great endeavor to distinguish \nthemselves from the common people, who try to imitate them.\xe2\x80\x94 \nThere is more convenience, and less ostentation in the way of liv\xc2\xac \ning, than in aristocracy. The capital is greater, and more divided \namong all classes. \n\nIn popular governments, manners are neither rude nor refined. \nIn the way of living there is more convenience, neatness and clean\xc2\xac \nliness, than ostentation. \n\nIn the first three stages, no other knowledge ought to be expected \nthan that of the rude arts, necessary to their manner of living. \n\nUnder all governmenis, the arts and sciences, of necessity, will \nbe cultivated, in proportion as there is capital in the hands of the \ncommoners: and those of refinement, luxury and ostentation, as \n\n\n32 \n\nthere may he of it in the hands of^the rich, yet, no art ean \nn rje to any considerable perfection without considerable capita! in \nt'l? hands of the commoners ; if among\xe2\x80\x99 this class there is not the \nmeans of elegant education, nothing will be obtained, besides that \nthe execution of the superior arts depends entirely on the state of \nthe inferior ones. A people may have a mental improvement that \ndoes not belong to the state of their capital: but this will be owing \nto their connection, by language or government, with a more opu\xc2\xac \nlent nation. Tins is the case with the Scotch. \n\nA nation whose government can command the greatest wealth \nwill too he the most warlike. Her large military establishments, \nold, and well supported, will have that order or displine, bv which \nit is very difficult for every man not to do, comparatively speaking, \nwell his duty. And this is the only valour to be expected among \nmen, except in some gusts of fanaticism, that neither last, nor are \nof any avail. The losses being repaired with promptitude she will \nbeef course successful. Her generals will acquire renown. Anl \nwriters will have an opportunity of drawing fine tableaus. A poor \npeople, like the barbarians that overturned the Roman empire, \nmay execute a successful excursion on a weak and tottering state, \nbut will never be able to make an impression against a well regu\xc2\xac \nlated people. Much of the military glory of a nation will depend \ntoo on the state of her neighbours. Any people may always be \ntoo strong for a weaker one \n\nWe must observe, that many variations will take place in society \nas these ingredients of government are mixed in different propor\xc2\xac \ntions : And, likewise, as capital advances, or decreases in a nation. \nThe same capital, respecting the population, that diminishes, will \nhave a different effect, from what it has when it increases. On the \nfirst case, from habits, the necessities of man are greater, and the \npeople is descending, by distress, from better to worse living ; capi\xc2\xac \ntal every day is more distant from the power of increase of popu\xc2\xac \nlation, and vice and misery will appear in every shape. There \nwill be very considerable difference seen too, as a capital is new or \nold. There may be in a newly civilized country, more improve\xc2\xac \nment, than in an older one; but a mixture vvid be found of refine\xc2\xac \nment and barbarity. Civilization has not vet pervaded every part \nof the system, at the same time that in an ancient nation the state \nof improvement, may not correspond to that of manners. \n\nWhether society was originally formed by the love of company, \nor that of self-presevation, or both, the principles of its improve-* \nnientare:\xe2\x80\x94The principle of accumulation;\xe2\x80\x94The capacity, that \nman has over every other animal, to repeat the practice of more \ncomplicated routines :\xe2\x80\x94The capacity of some individuals to go be\xc2\xac \nyond this. The obstacles to the improvement of society, are\xe2\x80\x94The \nwant of any judgment in the great majority of the species :\xe2\x80\x94The \nnatural character of enmity between man and man :\xe2\x80\x94And tendec* \ncy of population to increase beyond the means of subsistence. \n\n\nLIBRARY OF CONGRESS \n\n\n0 028 001 693 7 \n\n\n\n\n\n"