Some writers have so confounded society with government, as to leave little or no distinction between them; whereas they are not only different, but have different origins. Society is produced by our wants, and government by our wickedness; the former promotes our happiness positively by uniting our affections, the latter negatively by restraining our vices. The one encourages intercourse, the other creates distinctions. The first a patron, the last a punisher.
Some writers have confused society with government so much that they make little or no distinction between the two. But society and government are not only different, they also have different origins. Society comes from our needs, and government from our wickedness. Society promotes our happiness positively by bringing us together in affection. Government promotes our happiness negatively by restraining our vices. Society encourages interaction, while government creates divisions. Society is a supporter, while government is a punisher.
Society in every state is a blessing, but government even in its best state is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one; for when we suffer, or are exposed to the same miseries by a government, which we might expect in a country without government, our calamity is heightened by reflecting that we furnish the means by which we suffer. Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence; the palaces of kings are built on the ruins of the bowers of paradise. For were the impulses of conscience clear, uniform, and irresistibly obeyed, man would need no other lawgiver; but that not being the case, he finds it necessary to surrender up a part of his property to furnish means for the protection of the rest; and this he is induced to do by the same prudence which in every other case advises him out of two evils to choose the least. Wherefore, security being the true design and end of government, it unanswerably follows that whatever form thereof appears most likely to ensure it to us, with the least expence and greatest benefit, is preferable to all others.
Society is a blessing in every condition, but government, even at its best, is only a necessary evil. At its worst, government is an intolerable evil. For we may suffer, or face, the same miseries under a government that we might expect in a country without government. Our suffering is then made worse by knowing that we provide the means used to make us suffer. Government, like clothing, is a sign of lost innocence. The palaces of kings are built on the ruins of paradise’s gardens. For if the guidance of conscience were clear, consistent, and impossible to disobey, people would need no other lawgiver. But conscience does not work that way. So people find it necessary to give up part of their property to pay for protecting the rest. The same good judgment that always advises choosing the lesser of two evils leads them to make this sacrifice. Therefore, since security is the true purpose and goal of government, one conclusion follows beyond dispute. Whatever form of government seems most likely to provide security at the lowest cost and greatest benefit is preferable to all others.
In order to gain a clear and just idea of the design and end of government, let us suppose a small number of persons settled in some sequestered part of the earth, unconnected with the rest, they will then represent the first peopling of any country, or of the world. In this state of natural liberty, society will be their first thought. A thousand motives will excite them thereto, the strength of one man is so unequal to his wants, and his mind so unfitted for perpetual solitude, that he is soon obliged to seek assistance and relief of another, who in his turn requires the same. Four or five united would be able to raise a tolerable dwelling in the midst of a wilderness, but one man might labour out of the common period of life without accomplishing any thing; when he had felled his timber he could not remove it, nor erect it after it was removed; hunger in the mean time would urge him from his work, and every different want call him a different way. Disease, nay even misfortune would be death, for though neither might be mortal, yet either would disable him from living, and reduce him to a state in which he might rather be said to perish than to die.
To understand clearly and fairly the purpose and goal of government, imagine a few people settling somewhere remote. They have no connection with the rest of the world. They would represent the first people to settle any country, or the world itself. In this state of natural freedom, their first thought will be to form a society. A thousand motives will lead them to do so. One man's strength falls far short of meeting his needs, and his mind is unsuited to constant solitude. So he soon has to seek help and comfort from another person, who needs the same in return. Four or five people working together could build an adequate home in the wilderness. But one man might work beyond a normal lifetime without accomplishing anything. After cutting down his trees, he could not move the timber or put it up once moved. Meanwhile, hunger would force him away from his work, and each different need would pull him in another direction. Illness, or even misfortune, would mean death. Though neither might be fatal in itself, either would leave him unable to sustain himself. He would be left in a state better described as perishing than dying.
Thus necessity, like a gravitating power, would soon form our newly arrived emigrants into society, the reciprocal blessings of which, would supersede, and render the obligations of law and government unnecessary while they remained perfectly just to each other; but as nothing but heaven is impregnable to vice, it will unavoidably happen, that in proportion as they surmount the first difficulties of emigration, which bound them together in a common cause, they will begin to relax in their duty and attachment to each other; and this remissness, will point out the necessity, of establishing some form of government to supply the defect of moral virtue.
Thus necessity, like gravity, would soon draw our newly arrived emigrants together into a society. The shared benefits of society would make the requirements of law and government unnecessary, provided everyone treated everyone else justly. But only heaven is safe from wrongdoing. So, as the emigrants overcame the early hardships that united them in a common cause, their behavior would inevitably change. They would begin to neglect their duties to one another, and their bonds would weaken. This neglect would reveal the need to establish some form of government to make up for their lack of virtue.
Some convenient tree will afford them a State-House, under the branches of which, the whole colony may assemble to deliberate on public matters. It is more than probable that their first laws will have the title only of Regulations, and be enforced by no other penalty than public disesteem. In this first parliament every man, by natural right, will have a seat.
A suitable tree will serve as their statehouse. Under its branches, the whole colony may gather to discuss public matters. Their first laws will very likely be called only Regulations, enforced by no penalty other than public disapproval. In this first parliament, every man will have a seat as a matter of natural right.
But as the colony increases, the public concerns will increase likewise, and the distance at which the members may be separated, will render it too inconvenient for all of them to meet on every occasion as at first, when their number was small, their habitations near, and the public concerns few and trifling. This will point out the convenience of their consenting to leave the legislative part to be managed by a select number chosen from the whole body, who are supposed to have the same concerns at stake which those who appointed them, and who will act in the same manner as the whole body would act were they present. If the colony continue increasing, it will become necessary to augment the number of the representatives, and that the interest of every part of the colony may be attended to, it will be found best to divide the whole into convenient parts, each part sending its proper number; and that the elected might never form to themselves an interest separate from the electors, prudence will point out the propriety of having elections often; because as the elected might by that means return and mix again with the general body of the electors in a few months, their fidelity to the public will be secured by the prudent reflexion of not making a rod for themselves. And as this frequent interchange will establish a common interest with every part of the community, they will mutually and naturally support each other, and on this (not on the unmeaning name of king) depends the strength of government, and the happiness of the governed.
But as the colony grows, public business will grow too. People may live so far apart that meeting for every occasion will become too inconvenient. At first, their numbers were small, their homes close together, and public matters few and minor. These changes will show the advantage of agreeing to leave lawmaking to a few representatives chosen by the whole community. These representatives are assumed to have the same interests at stake as the people who chose them. They will act as the whole community would act if everyone were present. If the colony keeps growing, the number of representatives will need to grow too. To ensure that every part of the colony has its interests considered, dividing it into suitable districts will work best. Each district will send its proper number of representatives. And so that the elected never develop interests separate from the electors, holding frequent elections will be wise. Because elections are frequent, the elected may return within a few months to live among the general body of electors. Their loyalty to the public will be secured by wisely considering how to avoid creating punishments for themselves. And because this frequent exchange will establish shared interests throughout the community, its members will naturally support one another. On this mutual support (not on the meaningless title of king) depends the strength of government, and the happiness of the governed.
Here then is the origin and rise of government; namely, a mode rendered necessary by the inability of moral virtue to govern the world; here too is the design and end of government, viz. freedom and security. And however our eyes may be dazzled with show, or our ears deceived by sound; however prejudice may warp our wills, or interest darken our understanding, the simple voice of nature and of reason will say, it is right.
Here, then, is how government began and developed: moral virtue alone cannot govern the world, so government became necessary. Government’s purpose and goal are freedom and security. Appearances may dazzle our eyes, and words may deceive our ears. Prejudice may distort our judgment, and self-interest may cloud our understanding. Yet whatever these influences may do, the simple voice of nature and reason will say government is right.
I draw my idea of the form of government from a principle in nature, which no art can overturn, viz. that the more simple any thing is, the less liable it is to be disordered; and the easier repaired when disordered; and with this maxim in view, I offer a few remarks on the so much boasted constitution of England. That it was noble for the dark and slavish times in which it was erected, is granted. When the world was over run with tyranny the least remove therefrom was a glorious rescue. But that it is imperfect, subject to convulsions, and incapable of producing what it seems to promise, is easily demonstrated.
I base my idea of government on a principle of nature that no human skill can overturn. The simpler something is, the less likely it is to break down, and the easier it is to repair. With this principle in mind, I offer a few remarks on the much-praised constitution of England. I admit that England’s constitution was noble for the dark times of servitude in which it was established. When tyranny overran the world, even the smallest step away from tyranny was a glorious rescue. But England’s constitution is imperfect, prone to upheaval, and unable to deliver what it seems to promise. These failings are easy to demonstrate.
Absolute governments (tho’ the disgrace of human nature) have this advantage with them, that they are simple; if the people suffer, they know the head from which their suffering springs, know likewise the remedy, and are not bewildered by a variety of causes and cures. But the constitution of England is so exceedingly complex, that the nation may suffer for years together without being able to discover in which part the fault lies, some will say in one and some in another, and every political physician will advise a different medicine.
Absolute governments are a disgrace to human nature. Yet they have one advantage: they are simple. If the people suffer, they know who causes their suffering and how to fix it. They are not confused by a range of possible causes and cures. But England’s system of government is so complex that the nation may suffer for years without discovering where the fault lies. Some will blame one part, and some another. And every political doctor will prescribe a different medicine.
I know it is difficult to get over local or long standing prejudices, yet if we will suffer ourselves to examine the component parts of the English constitution, we shall find them to be the base remains of two ancient tyrannies, compounded with some new republican materials.
I know it is hard to overcome local or long-standing prejudices. But if we let ourselves examine the parts of the English constitution, we will discover their true nature. They are the corrupt remains of two ancient tyrannies, mixed with some new republican elements.
First.—The remains of monarchical tyranny in the person of the king.
First. The remnants of royal tyranny embodied in the king.
Secondly.—The remains of aristocratical tyranny in the persons of the peers.
Second. The remnants of aristocratic tyranny embodied in the hereditary nobles.
Thirdly.—The new republican materials, in the persons of the commons, on whose virtue depends the freedom of England.
Thirdly. The new republican elements, represented by the commons. England’s freedom depends on the virtue of the commons.
The two first, by being hereditary, are independent of the people; wherefore in a constitutional sense they contribute nothing towards the freedom of the state.
The first two are hereditary, so they are independent of the people. Therefore, in a constitutional sense, they contribute nothing to the state's freedom.
To say that the constitution of England is a union of three powers reciprocally checking each other, is farcical, either the words have no meaning, or they are flat contradictions.
Calling England’s constitution a union of three powers checking each other is laughable. Either these words mean nothing, or they directly contradict each other.
To say that the commons is a check upon the king, presupposes two things:
To say that the House of Commons limits the king’s power assumes two things:
First.—That the king is not to be trusted without being looked after, or in other words, that a thirst for absolute power is the natural disease of monarchy.
First. The king cannot be trusted without supervision. In other words, the thirst for absolute power is monarchy’s natural disease.
Secondly.—That the commons, by being appointed for that purpose, are either wiser or more worthy of confidence than the crown.
Secondly. The Commons, by being chosen for that purpose, are either wiser or more trustworthy than the Crown.
But as the same constitution which gives the commons a power to check the king by withholding the supplies, gives afterwards the king a power to check the commons, by empowering him to reject their other bills; it again supposes that the king is wiser than those whom it has already supposed to be wiser than him. A mere absurdity!
But the same constitution lets the commons restrain the king by withholding funding. It then lets the king restrain the commons by rejecting their other bills. So the constitution assumes the king is wiser than the very people it has already assumed are wiser than him. Simply absurd!
There is something exceedingly ridiculous in the composition of monarchy; it first excludes a man from the means of information, yet empowers him to act in cases where the highest judgment is required. The state of a king shuts him from the world, yet the business of a king requires him to know it thoroughly; wherefore the different parts, by unnaturally opposing and destroying each other, prove the whole character to be absurd and useless.
There is something utterly ridiculous about the way monarchy works. First, monarchy cuts a man off from sources of information. Yet monarchy gives him power to act in matters that demand the best judgment. A king’s position shuts him off from the world, yet his duties require him to know the world thoroughly. These parts of his role unnaturally oppose and undermine each other, making the whole role absurd and useless.
Some writers have explained the English constitution thus; the king, say they, is one, the people another; the peers are an house in behalf of the king; the commons in behalf of the people; but this hath all the distinctions of a house divided against itself; and though the expressions be pleasantly arranged, yet when examined they appear idle and ambiguous; and it will always happen, that the nicest construction that words are capable of, when applied to the description of some thing which either cannot exist, or is too incomprehensible to be within the compass of description, will be words of sound only, and though they may amuse the ear, they cannot inform the mind, for this explanation includes a previous question, viz. How came the king by a power which the people are afraid to trust, and always obliged to check? Such a power could not be the gift of a wise people, neither can any power, which needs checking, be from God; yet the provision, which the constitution makes, supposes such a power to exist.
Some writers have explained the English constitution this way: the king is one part, and the people are another. The House of Lords represents the king, and the House of Commons represents the people. But this arrangement has all the divisions of a house divided against itself. Although the words are pleasingly arranged, close examination shows them to be empty and unclear. Even the most carefully chosen words will always be mere sounds when used to describe something that cannot exist. The same is true when words describe something too incomprehensible to put into words. Although such words may please the ear, they cannot inform the mind. For this explanation raises a question that must first be answered: How did the king get a power that the people fear to trust and must always keep in check? Such a power could not have been the gift of a wise people. Nor can any power, which needs checking, come from God. Yet the safeguards in the constitution assume that such a power exists.
But the provision is unequal to the task; the means either cannot or will not accomplish the end, and the whole affair is a felo de se; for as the greater weight will always carry up the less, and as all the wheels of a machine are put in motion by one, it only remains to know which power in the constitution has the most weight, for that will govern; and though the others, or a part of them, may clog, or, as the phrase is, check the rapidity of its motion, yet so long as they cannot stop it, their endeavors will be ineffectual; the first moving power will at last have its way, and what it wants in speed is supplied by time.
But the arrangement is not up to the task. The means either cannot or will not achieve the goal, and the whole system defeats itself. For just as a heavier weight will always lift a lighter one, one wheel sets all a machine’s wheels moving. So we only need to know which power in the constitution carries the most weight, because that power will govern. The other powers, or some of them, may slow its movement or, as the saying goes, check its speed. Yet as long as those powers cannot stop the strongest power, their efforts will be ineffective. The power that drives the system will have its way in the end. What that power lacks in speed, time makes up for.
That the crown is this overbearing part in the English constitution needs not be mentioned, and that it derives its whole consequence merely from being the giver of places and pensions is self-evident, wherefore, though we have been wise enough to shut and lock a door against absolute monarchy, we at the same time have been foolish enough to put the crown in possession of the key.
It goes without saying that the crown is the overbearing part of the English constitution. The crown’s power clearly comes entirely from handing out government positions and pensions. So, although we wisely shut and locked the door against absolute monarchy, we foolishly gave the crown the key.
The prejudice of Englishmen, in favour of their own government by king, lords and commons, arises as much or more from national pride than reason. Individuals are undoubtedly safer in England than in some other countries, but the will of the king is as much the law of the land in Britain as in France, with this difference, that instead of proceeding directly from his mouth, it is handed to the people under the more formidable shape of an act of parliament. For the fate of Charles the first, hath only made kings more subtle—not more just.
Englishmen’s bias in favor of their own government by king, lords and commons comes as much from national pride as reason, or more. Individuals are undoubtedly safer in England than in some other countries. But the king’s will is as much the law of the land in Britain as in France. The difference is that in Britain, the king’s will does not come directly from his mouth. Instead, it reaches the people in the more intimidating form of an act of parliament. For the fate of Charles the first has only made kings more cunning, not more just.
Wherefore, laying aside all national pride and prejudice in favour of modes and forms, the plain truth is, that it is wholly owing to the constitution of the people, and not to the constitution of the government that the crown is not as oppressive in England as in Turkey.
So, set aside all national pride and bias in favor of particular systems and forms of government. The plain truth is that the people's character, not the government's structure, is entirely responsible for the crown being less oppressive in England than in Turkey.
An inquiry into the constitutional errors in the English form of government is at this time highly necessary, for as we are never in a proper condition of doing justice to others, while we continue under the influence of some leading partiality, so neither are we capable of doing it to ourselves while we remain fettered by any obstinate prejudice. And as a man, who is attached to a prostitute, is unfitted to choose or judge of a wife, so any prepossession in favour of a rotten constitution of government will disable us from discerning a good one.
We urgently need to examine the constitutional flaws in the English form of government. For we can never treat others fairly while we remain influenced by some strong bias. Likewise, we cannot treat ourselves fairly while stubborn prejudice holds us back. A man attached to a prostitute is unfit to choose or judge a wife. In the same way, a bias toward a rotten constitution prevents us from recognizing a good one.