lifetime, and while the unhappy consequences of his projects were
still deeply felt. Posterity, however, has found reason to doubt the
justice of the accusation, and to confess that John Law was neither
knave nor madman, but one more deceived than deceiving; more sinned
against than sinning. He was thoroughly acquainted with the philosophy
and true principles of credit. He understood the monetary question
better than any man of his day; and if his system fell with a crash so
tremendous, it was not so much his fault as that of the people amongst
whom he had erected it. He did not calculate upon the avaricious
frenzy of a whole nation; he did not see that confidence, like
mistrust, could be increased, almost ad infinitum, and that hope was
as extravagant as fear. How was he to foretell that the French people,
like the man in the fable, would kill, in their frantic eagerness, the
fine goose he had brought to lay them so many golden eggs? His fate
was like that which may be supposed to have overtaken the first
adventurous boatman who rowed from Erie to Ontario. Broad and smooth
was the river on which he embarked; rapid and pleasant was his
progress; and who was to stay him in his career? Alas for him! the
cataract was nigh. He saw, when it was too late, that the tide which
wafted him so joyously along was a tide of destruction; and when he
endeavoured to retrace his way, he found that the current was too
strong for his weak efforts to stem, and that he drew nearer every
instant to the tremendous falls. Down he went over the sharp rocks,
and the waters with him. He was dashed to pieces with his bark, but
the waters, maddened and turned to foam by the rough descent, only
boiled and bubbled for a time, and then flowed on again as smoothly as
ever. Just so it was with Law and the French people. He was the
boatman and they were the waters.

John Law was born at Edinburgh in the year 1671. His father was