‘The soul of government as the true and perfect image of the soul of man’

The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries laid the foundations for the con­nection between the technical and the aspirational. Three principal works of these centuries detailed the political arrangements of an imaginary and therefore ideal state: Thomas More’s Utopia (1516), Francis Bacon’s New Atlantis (1627), and James Harrington’s Commonwealth of Oceana (1656).

‘This beautiful political order’ 157 Congress in 1782-83. Madison named Toland’s edition of Harrington’s works (1700 ed.) as worthy of public purchase. Both The Commonwealth of Oceana and A System of Politics appeared in the edition Madison selected for the edification of his colleagues.²⁶ Congress, however, declined further intercourse with Madison’s savants and their offerings. Americans were not dolts; they simply wanted one of their own to digest what was on offer in the way of political theory and philosophy. Repackaging product guaranteed readers that their sensibilities had been accounted for. The historical enter­prise was, on this score, subject to commodification to please consumers.

At this point I draw on J.G.A. Pocock’s commentary on The Com­monwealth of Oceana and A System of Politics. Harrington’s latter work consisted of 210 statements arranged into ten chapters (after the Roman fashion) in 7,890 words. In his System of Politics, according to Pocock,

Harrington is fully in command of the aphorism as a brief statement, either of premise or of conclusion, employed as an instrument of expo­sition. He has achieved a schematic articulation of his general theory.²⁷

‘National government is an effect of natural force’, Harrington declared (Chapter I).

Harrington then turned to the Platonic or perfection-seeking impulse: ‘The soul of government, as the true and perfect image of the soul of man, is every whit as necessarily religious as rational’.²⁹ I underline that Harrington directed his readers’ attention along two different lines. Human ‘necessities’ brought in the hard work of fulfilling human needs. These needs must be practically considered. This effort, in turn, was appropriately assigned to the political arena and its hurly-burly. To engage the ‘soul of man’ required introspective effort. Harrington supposed - as did Plato - that the contem­plative moment must be isolated from the noise of day-to-day life.

Having abstracted these two ‘Harrington moments’ from the System, I have located two examples, each one of which took place on 15 Novem­ber 1775. In each moment the writer guided the reader in two entirely dif­ferent directions: one was logic-selecting and the other was vision-bridging. These terms cue Harrington’s reference to human ‘necessities’ and the ‘soul of man’, respectively. I have previously quoted Frederick Montagu’s remarks to the House of Commons when ten Standing Orders (declared in 1774) came up for review in his committee.³⁰ On that occasion Montagu remarked that:

Your Committee see great Utility to arise from previous Notices to be given in the Country, of such intended Applications, in order that

Persons interested may have an Opportunity at their Leisure of examin­ing into the Propriety of, and Advantages to be derived from such bills, and may come prepared to offer their Objections or Amendments.³¹

I turn now to John Adams’ letter to Richard Lee, also dated 15 Novem­ber 1775.³2 The previous evening Lee asked Adams for his views on a ‘Form of Government’ for the American provinces.

In adopting a Plan, in some Respects similar to this, human Nature would appear in its proper Glory asserting its own real Dignity, pulling down Tyrannies, at a single Exertion and erecting such new Fabricks, as it thinks best calculated to promote its Happiness.

Coded prescriptions were (and are) architectural monuments and much to bourgeois taste as of 1775, when Montagu addressed the House of Com­mons and, across the North Atlantic, John Adams, speaking through his letter to Lee, addressed provinces engulfed in rebellion. I underline Adams’ employment of architectural metaphor: Adams supplied ‘Fabricks’ as a ‘Form of Government’. Inventories of prescriptions were typically presented after the Roman fashion. The code-as-edifice metaphor was old hat by the time Adams spoke of constitution-building.

What is more interesting is this intersection: Montagu contemplated ‘util­ity’ in rule review-and-revision while Adams conjured ‘happiness’ into his edifice. Montagu’s committee reviewed ten Standing Orders. He and his col­leagues recommended that eight such orders ‘be adhered to’, while one was to be repealed with another Standing Order amended. For his part, Adams praised his ‘Sketch, which may be varied in any one particular an infinite Number of Ways, So as to accommodate it to the different, Genius, Tem­per, Principles and even Prejudices of different People’. This is all techni­cal showmanship. Ideas were to be managed through their available logics. The vision-bridging function was also on display: Montagu connected his ‘Notices’ (for the benefit of the landowners in the ‘Country’) with the ideal of ‘great Utility’. For his part Adams condensed a ‘Model’ of 525 words that enabled the reader to visualise a ‘compleat Government’ as a Fabrick ‘best calculated to promote... Happiness’.