An Essay on the State of England In Relation to Its Trade, Its Poor, and Its Taxes, for Carrying on the Present War Against France — A Reader’s Guide
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John Cary, a Bristol merchant writing in 1695, opens his essay with a direct address to King William III, framing the war against France as a struggle for 'Religion, Liberty, and Property.' He immediately establishes a mercantile vocabulary, calling treasure the 'Nerves and Sinews' of war and urging that trade—the source of that treasure—be secured. Cary’s prose is plain and declarative, favoring concrete economic terms over rhetorical flourish. He identifies three pillars of national wealth: 'Land, Manufactures, and Foreign Trade,' and warns that taxes must not 'overshake' these foundations. The dedication sets the tone for a work that blends political argument with practical commercial advice, written by a man who clearly sees himself as a practical man of business rather than a speculative theorist.
The Merchant’s Plain Style
Cary’s authorial voice is that of a merchant addressing policymakers, not a philosopher. He repeatedly insists on 'plainness' as a method, contrasting it with the 'Sophistry' of those who 'represent their private Interests under the name of a public Good.' This rhetorical stance is evident in his sentence structures: short, declarative, and often built around economic binaries—'useful to the Publick Good' versus 'managed only for private Men's Advantage.' He uses metaphors drawn from trade and physical labor: taxes that 'light heavy on the Merchant,' or the nation sliding its neck 'out of the Collar.' His diction avoids Latinate abstraction in favor of Anglo-Saxon concrete terms: 'hurt,' 'ease,' 'bear the Burthen.' This plainness is a deliberate authorial choice, designed to signal honesty and practical wisdom.
Ireland as a Mirror for English Policy
Cary devotes considerable attention to Ireland, framing it as a direct competitor in woollen manufactures. He argues that Ireland’s advantages—'as good or rather better Wool' and cheaper provisions for workmen—will inevitably draw English artisans and undercut English exports. His argument is structured as a series of propositions: first, that Ireland is 'destructive to the Interest of England'; second, that measures to make Ireland more serviceable to England will also benefit Ireland itself. This logical, almost syllogistic structure reflects Cary’s method of breaking complex trade questions into clear, disputable claims. He does not rely on patriotic sentiment but on economic reasoning, even invoking Pilate’s question 'what is Truth?' to illustrate how self-interest biases judgment. The Irish sections reveal Cary’s willingness to engage in uncomfortable policy debates with a tone of measured urgency.
Taxation and the Nerves of War
Cary’s discussion of taxation is grounded in the practical realities of war finance. He argues that taxes must be 'easie' when annual sums are great, and that lawmakers should avoid measures that 'hurt any part of our Vitals.' He specifically criticizes a 'Tunnage Bill on Ships' that left 'no room to consider whither he gained or lost by the Voyage.' This attention to the merchant’s ledger—the concrete impact of policy on individual voyages—is characteristic of Cary’s perspective. He proposes that it may be 'possible to rate the Trader, and yet to spare the Trade,' a distinction that shows his concern for the mechanism of commerce rather than abstract revenue. His language here is technical but never obscure, always aiming to make the economic stakes visible to a reader unfamiliar with trade.
The Structure of Persuasion
Cary organizes his essay around two main heads: securing the plantation trade and managing Ireland. Within each, he proceeds by numbered propositions and plain statements: 'These are plain Propositions, understood by every Man.' This structure mirrors the format of a merchant’s report or a parliamentary brief, not a philosophical treatise. He uses rhetorical questions sparingly but effectively, as when he asks what the 'true Interest of Ireland' consists in—'Whither in Trade and Manufactures, or in Improvement of its Lands by a good Settlement?' The answer is delivered as a matter of economic fact, not opinion. Cary’s habit of defining terms ('the true Interest of Ireland') and then deducing policy from that definition gives the essay a logical clarity that reinforces his authority as a practical man. The recurring phrase 'I doubt not but' signals confidence without arrogance.
Cary’s essay is best read as a policy intervention, not a theoretical work. His arguments are shaped by the immediate pressures of war finance and the perceived threat of Irish competition. Readers should attend to his use of economic categories—land, manufactures, trade—as analytical tools, and to his deliberate plainness as a rhetorical strategy. The essay rewards attention to its structure: each section builds a case from stated premises, and Cary’s voice remains consistent throughout, that of a merchant who believes that clear reasoning about trade can guide national policy. His work offers a window into the economic thinking of a late-17th-century English merchant, with all its assumptions and limitations.
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