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function to produce unity. Penn believed that it would mean negative liberty
for all “ freedom from coercion. Through this liberty, Truth would naturally
¬nd its way. In some ways, this was also the view that Quaker politicians held.
40 Conference Between a Parish-Priest and a Quaker; Published for the preventing (if possible) the
vile deceits of priestcraft in America (Philadelphia, 1725), 26. In The Beginnings of Quakerism,
Quaker historian Braithwaite also claims that “The Quakers resolutely excluded compulsion
from the scheme of the Kingdom of God” (484).
Civil Unity and Dissention 145

But because Pennsylvania civil government was the ekkl¯ sia, they believed as
well that they should help people along on the way to Truth. They would
accomplish this “Concord” in two ways, as Penn said, though “example” and
“power” “ missionizing and regulation. The ¬rst way was persuasive, the other
coercive; and the line between the two methods was by no means distinct.
In order to “protect” the inhabitants of the colony and guide them along
the right path toward unity and Truth, Quakers needed to impose a number of
theological imperatives on the polity. These imperatives followed the Quaker
religious Discipline and were intended to create “holy conversation,” a society
of “orderly walkers.” They believed that the Assembly, as the elders, “may
and hath Power . . . to pronounce a positive Judgment, which no doubt will be
found obligatory upon all such who have Sense and Feeling of the mind of the
Spirit, though rejected by such as are not watchful, and so are out of the Feeling
and Unity of Life.”41 In short, they imposed their religious testimonies on civil
society. Because liberty of conscience was the ¬rst principle of the ecclesiastical
polity, so was it the most basic principle codi¬ed in the Quaker constitution.
And it served the same purpose “ to allow people to become Quakers. The hope
that lay behind liberty of conscience was that individuals, once freed from the
obligations of a state church, would eventually ¬nd their way to Quakerism.
Certainly Pennsylvania was in important ways the most ambitious experi-
ment in religious liberty in the world at the time.42 The diversity of the pop-
ulation, its relative harmony, and the entire lack of persecution of dissenters
either by the government or the inhabitants was noted by most who visited the
colony.43 Attending as many churches as possible while in Philadelphia was a
common pastime of tourists. William Black, a Scotsman visiting the colonies
in 1744, took the opportunity while in Philadelphia to attend the services of
Anglicans, Moravians, Presbyterians, “New Lights,” several Quaker meetings,
and a sermon by Gilbert Tennant. His experience was a positive one, and he
remarked that “I found everything come up to, or rather exceed the Character
I had often heard of Philadelphia.”44 In mid-century, Lawrence Washington
commented that Pennsylvania “has ¬‚ourished under that delightful liberty [of
conscience], so as to become the admiration of every man, who considers the
short time it has been settled.”45 For the philosophes, religious liberty was
the crowning glory of Pennsylvania. They saw it as a place not only without
the oppression of religion but, some believed, without theology at all. They

41 Barclay, Anarchy, 53.
42 It may be objected that Rhode Island was as free as Pennsylvania, but, of course, shortly after
Roger Williams founded it, it was taken over and dominated by Quakers until the end of the
colonial period.
43 See, for example, Andrew Burnaby, Travels through the Middle Settlements in North-America
in the years 1759 and 1760 with Observations upon the State of the Colonies (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1963), 58.
44 William Black, “The Journal of William Black,” PMHB vol. 1, no. 3 (1877), 233“49.
45 Lawrence Washington to John Hanbury, in The Writings of George Washington. Jared Sparks,
ed., (Boston: American Stationers™ Co., 1838), 2: 481.
146 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

celebrated the lack of priests or dogma of any kind, and there were no tithes,
no enforced church attendance, and no restrictions on any religious practice.
Some equated Quakerism with deism.
But as genuine as this religious liberty was, it was in some ways a super¬cial
quality of the colony; there was much more going on beneath the surface.
Pennsylvania was in reality far from “laissez-faire,” “complaisant,” or “less
concerned with religious structures” than its neighbors, as some historians
have described it.46 Frank Lambert has noted that Adam Smith himself found
Pennsylvania to be a religious model for his free market economic system; but
neither Smith nor the Quakers believed that “free” meant “unregulated.”47
The mistake scholars have made is in viewing Quaker liberty of conscience
through the lens of modern liberalism and assuming that it was legislated
purely as a negative freedom, in other words, that the Quaker government
would leave everyone alone to pursue his or her own religious course unguided.
Even William James was beguiled by what he imagined to be the modern,
individualistic sensibilities of Friends. In Varieties of Religious Experience he
wrote, “[S]o far as our Christian sects today are evolving into liberality, they are
simply reverting in essence to the position which Fox and the early Quakers long
ago assumed.” Quakerism, he concluded, was “impossible to overpraise.”48
But even the French did not ¬nd a separation of church and state “ they just
happened to approve of the religion they found there, which seemed to them a
kind of civil religion. Truth was not relative to Quakers; and if the conscience
could not be mastered, Quakers believed that it at least could be directed.
Thus liberty of conscience was understood by Quakers to be both a negative
liberty “ the freedom from obstacles to the Truth “ but also a positive liberty,
an opportunity for the individual to be guided toward Quakerism. Liberty
of conscience was only a part of the Quakers™ plan and only the ¬rst step

46 Most recently, see Marietta and Rowe, A Troubled Experiment, passim. Also see Benjamin
Hart, Faith and Freedom: The Christian Roots of American Liberty (San Bernardino: Here™s
Life Publishers, 1988), 197“206; Bonomi, Under the Cope of Heaven, 35; Daniel J. Elazar,
American Federalism: A View from the States, 3rd ed. (New York: Harper and Row, 1984),
115“17; and Donald S. Lutz, following Elazar in The Origins of the American Constitutionalism
(Baton Rouge: University of Louisiana Press, 1988), 54“56.
47 Frank Lambert, The Founding Fathers and the Place of Religion in America (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 2003), 10, passim. For the same analogy, see, Bonomi, Under the
Cope of Heaven, 81.
48 William James, Varieties of Religious Experience (New York: Modern Library 1936), 7.
Although James and others who ¬nd a modern form of liberalism in Quakerism are mistaken,
it is clear that many of the “liberal” aspects of Quakerism were adopted by non-Quakers. A
concrete example is in their penology, which is discussed later in this chapter. While Quakers
did not institute lenient penal codes for humanitarian reasons, it is hard to conclude otherwise
than with Harry Elmer Barnes that “it is probable that the in¬‚uence of these Quaker laws and
theories did more than anything else to promote that movement for the liberalizing and human-
izing of the criminal codes in this country, which began immediately after the Revolution and
spread from Philadelphia throughout the United States.” Harry Elmer Barnes, The Evolution
of Penology in Pennsylvania (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1927), 27“28.
Civil Unity and Dissention 147

toward what their opponents called the “Quakerization” of Pennsylvania.49
In their own way, in the early years of the colony, Quakers established their
church de facto every bit as much as the Anglicans in Virginia or the Puritans
in Massachusetts established theirs de jure. It just so happened that liberty
of conscience was one of their most fundamental theological premises “ a
gateway belief, of sorts, and the most important proselytizing tool. In 1769 the
Pennsylvania Chronicle claimed approvingly that William Penn had said that
“liberty of conscience is the ¬rst step to have a religion.”50
This Quakerization was effected at all levels of the polity, beginning among
the ranks of the politicians. If Quakers knew that they needed Friends in the
Assembly, they also knew that they could not completely exclude people of
other persuasions. But they did need to weed out the un-Quakerly from the
Quakerly. Early on Penn objected to such practices and denied the legitimacy
of Friends™ use of their tenets as criteria to ¬lter or recruit rulers. He wrote,
“for that Right [to participate in government] is founded [upon] Civil & not
Spiritual Freedom.”51 But that is exactly the basis on which Friends de¬ned
eligibility for of¬ce “ at least unof¬cially. Politicians did not even have as much
constitutional religious liberty as others in Pennsylvania. All inhabitants were
granted liberty of conscience under the ¬rst four Frames of Government, but
in the 1701 Charter, liberty of conscience was changed to religious toleration
where public of¬cials were concerned. It stipulated that only Christians could
hold of¬ce.52
Despite the accolades bestowed by many visitors on the colony for the liberty
of conscience, others found it troubling as they recognized the advantage this
gave Quakers in winning converts to both their religious and their political
cause. One detractor claimed that “[b]y discouraging regular Ministers [of
other denominations], it gives the Quakers an Opportunity of making more
Proselytes.”53 “[I]t is a very great misfortune to us,” remarked an Anglican
clergyman in 1749, “that many of our people, having been born in the place &
converse always with Quakers, are so much tainted with their way of thinking
as to have very slight notions of an outward Visible Church & Sacraments
which gives ye Minister very great Trouble in many respects.”54 Another wrote

49 Richard Peters quoted in Tully, Forming American Politics, 274.
50 The Pennsylvania Chronicle; and Universal Advertiser, Monday, August 21, to Monday, August
28, vol. 3, no. 31 (1769), 256.
51 Schwartz, “A Mixed Multitude,” 30.
52 The charters can be found in the volumes 2“4 of The Papers of William Penn. See also Schwartz,
“A Mixed Multitude,” 32“33. Although there were very few non-Christians in the colonies,
and Quakers preferred to pass no laws against them, the crown compelled Pennsylvania to pass
laws banning Catholics, Jews, and atheists from full citizenship. These laws were not enforced.
See Bonomi, Under the Cope of Heaven, 36.
53 William Smith, A Brief State of the Province of Pennsylvania . . . In a Letter from a Gentleman
who has resided many Years in Pennsylvania to his Friend in London (London, 1755), 35.
54 Edgar L. Pennington, “The Work of the Bray Associates in Pennsylvania,” PMHB vol. 58,
no. 1 (1934), 1“25, 5.
148 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

that Quakers “were a Dread to all Christians, besides those of their own

Convincement through Benevolence
Liberty of conscience was the most important law that would “open the way”
for a uni¬ed, Quakerized populace, but it was not the only apparently negative
liberty intended for this purpose. There were other legal tools that Friends used
to bring people to Quakerism. These also understandably strike the modern
mind as liberal, and so they were in one respect. They were designed to free the
individual from worldly oppressions by providing the basic necessities for free-
dom “ food, shelter, clothing, education, sobriety, mental and physical health,
piety, and civic virtue. As similar as they appear to modern liberalism on the
surface, however, these were not humanitarian efforts; they were tools of con-
vincement.56 All of these liberating laws and policies were based solidly on the
Quaker ecclesiastical constitution, the Discipline. They dealt with, among other
things, how the state managed criminals, slaves, Indians, and the sick-poor.
The early penal codes and Quaker penology re¬‚ected both the Quakers™
collective experiences in the English and Massachusetts prisons and their own
treatment of members who had transgressed the religious Discipline in meeting.
They were forgiving and aimed more at rehabilitation “ a new concept in the
Western world “ than punishment. But, properly speaking, they were not so
much for rehabilitation as they were for regeneration. They were intended to
be more effective that the brutal punishments handed down by non-Quaker
authorities in other colonies. They worked on the conscience rather than the
body. In the Quaker meeting, for example, when an individual transgressed
the Discipline and was disowned, the meeting still retained ties with him and
attempted to “tender” his conscience to bring him back into membership. They
never gave up hope that the person might be truly and permanently convinced
of Quakerism. In the 1719 version of their ecclesiastical constitution, they
wrote, “[t]his is called our Discipline in the exercise whereof Persuasion and
gentle dealing is and ought to be our practice.”57 The same principle held in
Quaker civil society. Hardly a man was beyond hope for rejoining society.
Permanently banishing someone or killing him shut the door on any possible
55 Bugg, Quakerism Anatomized, 442.
56 As Sydney V. James argues, “[I]n the ¬rst century of Quakerism there was little evidence of
humanitarianism, apart from the desire to convert people . . . In modern usage, conferring the
bene¬t of one™s religion is not de¬ned as humanitarian charity.” James, A People among Peoples:
Quaker Benevolence in Eighteenth-Century America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press, 1963), 317. To be clear, this social control was not primarily a means to political
power; or, if so, the goal of political power was for the security of an overarching religious
purpose. For the debate on whether the benevolence of various religious dominations was from
humanitarian, religious, or self-interested motives, see Lois W. Banner, “Religious Benevolence
as Social Control: A Critique of an Interpretation,” Journal of American History vol. 60, no. 1
(1973), 23“41.
57 Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, Book of Discipline (1719), HQC.
Civil Unity and Dissention 149

spiritual convincement. There was no “warning out” of undesirables as there
was in Massachusetts.58 And although banishment was the punishment for
some crimes, it was not as harsh as in England, where the criminal must leave
or face death. Rather, it was in effect a pardon for a crime, with the provi-
sion the individual must quit the colony.59 Thus Quaker penalties were lenient
and aimed at regeneration of the individual rather than his exclusion from
society. In contrast to Massachusetts™ sixteen capital crimes, Pennsylvania only
had one, for murder (although treason remained punishable by death under
English common law), and, rather surprisingly, there were only two capital
punishments carried out in the ¬rst thirty-six years of Pennsylvania govern-
ment.60 The reason for this was that Friends believed that if they killed a man,
“he would have no time to repent.”61 Late in the eighteenth century, Quaker
prisons gained an international reputation for, among other innovations, their
rejection of corporal punishment, and their efforts to transform criminals into
good citizens. The Philadelphia Prison is the best example of Quaker prose-
lytizing through prison reform. Quaker principles and practices were in plain
view to visitors, who remarked on the benevolence of the unarmed guards,
the industrious and well-mannered inmates, the use of silence as an organiz-
ing principle, and the Quaker invention of solitary con¬nement as a time for
inmates to retreat inward to ¬nd the Light of God in their consciences.62 For
Quakers, “Emulation [was] a principle, and often an only incentive to a moral
While punishments in Pennsylvania always remained more lenient than those
in England or other colonies, they were not always as “easie” as they were in
the ¬rst few decades.64 When Pennsylvania was under the control of the royal
governor, Benjamin Fletcher, many of the laws were found to be too much out
of keeping with English laws. Then, and also later when Penn was afraid of
losing his government again in 1700, punishments became harsher. The pivotal

58 In Massachusetts, paupers and other suspicious individuals who wandered into towns were
warned by town leaders to leave or face imprisonment, forcible expulsion, or worse. See Ruth
Wallis Herndon, Unwelcome Americans: Living on the Margin in Early New England (Philadel-
phia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001).
59 Herbert William Keith Fitzroy, “The Punishment of Crime in Provincial Pennsylvania,” PMHB
vol. 60, no. 3 (1936), 242“269, 259“60.
60 Marietta and Rowe, A Troubled Experiment, 12, 35.
61 Thomas Chalkley, “The Journal of Thomas Chalkley,” Friends™ Library, 6: 73. See also John
Bellers, “Some Reasons Against Putting Felons to Death” in Essays about the poor, manufac-
tures, trade, plantations, & immorality (London, 1699), 17“20.
62 Robert Turnbull, A Visit to the Philadelphia Prison; Being an accurate and particular account
of the wise and humane administration adopted in every part of that building; containing also
an account of the Gradual Reformation, and Present Improved State, of the Penal Laws of
Pennsylvania: with observations on the impolicy and injustice of capital punishments. In a
Letter to a Friend (Philadelphia, 1796). It is probable that Turnbull™s account is somewhat
embellished, but the fundamentals are credible. On Quaker penal codes, penology, and prisons,
see Barnes, The Evolution of Penology in Pennsylvania.
63 Turnbull, A Visit to a Philadelphia Prison, 44.
64 Marietta and Rowe, A Troubled Experiment, passim.
150 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

moment in the penal code was the passage of the “Act for the advancement
of justice and the more certain administration thereof” in 1718. Twelve new
capital crimes were added, and punishments generally became more physically
severe, with an aim more toward deterring and punishing crimes than rehabil-
itating criminals. It is apparent why scholars of the Pennsylvania penal code
consider that the Quaker experiment failed in this regard.65
The Pennsylvania laws protecting non-whites were a product of the Quaker
missionizing impulse as well. Laws pertaining to Indian relations aimed at
convincement and were reproduced exactly from the religious Discipline.66
Friends had always sought good relations with Indians, and their interactions
are well documented in the primary literature.67 They also expected the same
good relations to exist between Indians and denizens of Pennsylvania “ whether
Quakers or not. Accordingly, in 1705“06 they instituted “[a]n act for the better
improving a good correspondence with the Indians.”68 It was important, they
believed, “that a friendship be cultivated between [the Queen™s] subjects and
the native Indians, the ¬rst possessors of these lands.”69 In 1685 they wrote one
of their earliest religious testimonies for the bene¬t of the Indians in the minutes
of PYM. “This Meeting doth unanimously agree, & give as their Judgment,”
Friends wrote, “that it is not Consistent with the Honour of Truth, for any that
makes Profession thereof, to sell Rum or other strong Liquors to the Indians,
because they use them not to moderation, but to Excess & Drunkenness.”70
In 1701 the Assembly then codi¬ed this testimony into civil law as “[a]n act
against selling rum and other strong liquors to the Indians.” This law spells
out even more fully than the meeting minutes the purpose and intent of the
regulation. Quakers were concerned for the welfare of the Indians over eco-
nomic gain for Anglo-Americans. The Indians, they explained, were “not yet
able to govern themselves in the use” of alcohol, “as by sad experience is too
well known . . . whereby they are not only liable to be cheated, and reduced to
great poverty and want, but sometimes in¬‚amed to destroy themselves and one

65 Ibid., 248“53. But it is important to note that Friends did not cease to be concerned about
religion or to encourage non-Quakers toward Quakerly behavior. It is, however, an indication
that they were willing to forego some aspects of the Discipline to secure others. It is an indi-
cation of a compromise with reality. While it is true that Quakers gave up on controlling the
now-diverse population to the extent they desired, this did not mean that they then reversed
themselves entirely and adopted a policy of laissez-faire.
66 On meeting discipline pertaining to Indians, see Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, Minutes, 1682“
1746, FHL.
67 For such a rich topic, there are surprisingly few scholarly monographs that deal with it in detail,
especially in the colonial period. However, almost all works on Quakers discuss their relations
with Indians. For a recent brief discussion of the relationship of Friends to Indians, see Anderson
and Cayton, Dominion of War, 54“103.
68 James T. Mitchell and Henry Flanders, eds., Statutes-at-Large of Pennsylvania from 1682“
1801 (Harrisburg, PA: Clarence M. Busch, State Printer of Pennsylvania, 1896“1911), 2: 229.
(Hereafter referred to as Statutes.)
69 Ibid.
70 Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, Minutes, 1682“1746, FHL.
Civil Unity and Dissention 151

another.”71 But equally important to Friends was that the Indians™ alcoholism
inhibited their acceptance of and adherence to Quakerism. Penn, his gover-
nors, and the popular representatives of the colony were “desirous to induce
the Indian nations to the love of the Christian religion, by the gentle, sober and
just manners of professed Christians (under this government) towards them.”
A main concern of Quaker politicians that they noted in the act itself was that
the Indians “be induced as much as may be by a kind and obliging treatment
to embrace the Christian religion.”72 Missionizing was thus, in a sense, a legal
Quakers also embraced Indians as part of their civil society as no other
governments did. Should any person commit bodily injury against an Indian,
the Indian was to be considered the same as “a natural-born subject of Eng-
land” and the perpetrator punished accordingly.73 Moreover, it was a crime
to “[spread] false news or stories as may alienate the minds of Indians or any
of them from this government.”74 They allowed them to serve as witnesses in
court in the second instance and considered in general that, as part of Quaker
civil society, their bad behavior would re¬‚ect on the colony as a whole. In
speci¬c, their abuse of alcohol and the ensuing unchristian acts would “plainly
tend to the great dishonor of God, scandal of the Christian religion, and hin-
drance to the embracing thereof, as well as drawing the judgments of God
upon the country.”75 The public, in short, was charged in several ways with
promoting the welfare of the Indians, even to the extent of a tax being levied
for maintaining the good relations in the form of treaties and gifts.76 Friendly
relations with Indians continued and grew throughout the eighteenth century.
Although philosophes found reason to rejoice at such amiable relations with
the Natives, settlers on the frontier believed that the Quakers compromised
their safety by engaging in “secret schemes” and “iniquitous practices” with
Similar to the laws protecting Indians, there were relatively gentle slave codes
and laws pertaining to free blacks in Pennsylvania. While the laws regulating the
behavior of blacks and prescribing their punishments were undoubtedly severe
by our standards, they were lenient and enlightened when compared with those
of the Southern colonies. For example, in Pennsylvania slaves were classi¬ed as
people, rather than property, and whites were subject to the same punishments
for killing a slave as a white person. Furthermore, blacks in Pennsylvania could
own property, be taught to read and write, hold any kind of job, and if they

71 Statutes, 2: 168.
72 Ibid., 2: 229.
73 Ibid.
74 Ibid.
75 Ibid., 2: 168“69.
76 Ibid., 2: 381.
77 Hugh Williamson, Plain Dealer: Or, a Few Remarks upon Quaker-Politicks, and their Attempts
to Change the Government of Pennsylvania. With some Observations on the false and abusive
Papers which they have lately published (Philadelphia, 1764), 3: 10.
152 Quaker Constitutionalism in Theory and Practice

were freed, they did not have to leave the colony.78 These laws were intended
to alleviate the oppression of these groups so that they could ¬nd their way
to Quakerism. It was in the mid-eighteenth century that Quakers began the
abolitionist movement among themselves and then, by the end of the century,
began to take their testimony to the public. They founded schools to educate
blacks and encouraged them to meet for religious purposes. But while they were
happy for the existence of black meetings, Friends were undecided whether they
should allow blacks to worship in their midst.79
Quakers also concerned themselves much with the sick-poor of the colony
(Figure 3). In the early decades of the eighteenth century, they directed their
relief efforts mainly toward convinced members of the Society of Friends. But as
the century and their proselytizing progressed, they expanded their concern to
the colony in general. They instituted several almshouses and the Pennsylvania
Hospital “ the ¬rst hospital in the colonies. Like the prisons, these institutions
were designed, when possible, to rehabilitate inmates and provide them the
necessary means to raise themselves up to a higher station in life. They were
provided food, shelter, clothing, and education and were taught skills that
would allow them to ¬nd work on the outside. The laws they established
enabled this regeneration both directly and indirectly. Funds raised from ¬nes
levied on individuals for breaking other laws “ especially those concerning
public morality “ were directed toward charitable causes. The statutes speci¬ed
that ¬nes collected from those convicted of swearing were used “for the use of
the poor.”80
In addition to the preceding measures, Quaker Pennsylvania led other
colonies in their organization of public efforts for reform and improvement.
Along with their observation of the diverse religious climate, visitors to Pennsyl-
vania also noted the remarkable number of voluntary associations. John Adams
noted with envy that Quaker Philadelphia surpassed Boston in its “charitable,
public foundations.”81 Likewise, Manasseh Cutler wrote, “Whatever may be
said of the private benevolence of the Philadelphians, there is certainly a greater

78 Nash and Soderlund, Freedom by Degrees, 12“13.
79 An important point to note is that while Friends were undoubtedly concerned about the well-
being of blacks for their sake, many were more concerned with the possibility of the necessary
cruelty of slave ownership making members of the Society of Friends stray from their Quakerly
principles of meekness, humility, and peaceful behavior. The mild slave codes and abolitionist
principles of some Pennsylvania Quakers was as much for the preservation and advancement of
Quakerism as for the well-being of blacks. On lenient slave codes in Pennsylvania, see Nash and
Soderlund, Freedom by Degrees, 12“13; on tension within the Society over slavery, see David
Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press,
1966); see also, Thomas E. Drake, Quakers and Slavery in America (New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press, 1950); Jean Soderlund, Quakers and Slavery: A Divided Spirit (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1985).
80 Statutes, 2: 50.
81 John Adams quoted in Carl Bridenbaugh and Jessica Bridenbaugh, Rebels and Gentlemen:
Philadelphia in the Age of Franklin (New York: Oxford University Press, 1962), 229.
Civil Unity and Dissention 153

figure 3. “Quakers Giving Charity.” (In Edith Philips, The Good Quaker in French
Legend [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1932], facing page 98; incor-
rectly cited as appearing in Raynal™s Histoire philosophique et politique des etablisse-
mens & du commerce des Europ´ ens dans les deux Indes [1770].)

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