A comparison between the British sugar colonies and New England, as they relate to the interest of Great Britain

In Short

This polemical tract, published in 1732, serves as a fervent argument to the British Parliament in favor of restricting colonial trade with foreign powers. By contrasting the immense economic value of the British Sugar Colonies with the perceived competitive threat posed by New England, the author advocates for legislation—specifically the Molasses Act—to protect the mother country’s interests. The work provides a rare window into eighteenth-century mercantilist philosophy, illustrating how colonial expansion was viewed not merely as a benefit to the Crown, but as a potential source of dangerous, burgeoning independence.

The Story

The narrative arc begins with an appeal to economic statistics, asserting that the British Sugar Colonies are, and must remain, the primary source of wealth for Great Britain. The author establishes a stark dichotomy: the West Indies are small, island-bound, and entirely dependent on the mother country, whereas New England is a vast, resource-rich continent with the potential to rival—and eventually supplant—England herself. The argument follows a steady progression of anxieties regarding colonial "independency." The author contends that New England is already undermining British navigation, having begun to build its own ships and dominate the Newfoundland fishery.

As the text unfolds, the focus shifts to specific industries. The author highlights the production of beaver hats and the potential for New England to master wool, iron, and copper manufacturing. By trading these goods directly with foreign markets, New England is characterized as an "unnatural daughter" who seeks to suck the life from the very country that birthed her. The author then pivots to the immediate legislative crisis: a bill intended to force New England traders to rely on British islands for their molasses and rum, rather than purchasing them from the French or Dutch.

The middle sections dissect the claims made by New England merchants, who argue that such a bill would destroy their lumber trade and deprive their fishery of essential spirits. The author meticulously attempts to dismantle these claims, arguing that the British Sugar Colonies are, in fact, capable of absorbing all of New England's lumber and providing more than enough rum to meet their needs. The author paints the New England distillers as self-interested agitators who stir up public opposition to protect their own illicit profits.

The argument culminates in a critique of the character of the colonists themselves. The author contrasts the polite, educated, and hospitable inhabitants of the sugar islands with the insular, "Jewish" attitudes of the New Englanders, who view fellow subjects as foreigners. Finally, the text transitions into a direct "Letter to a Member of Parliament." Here, the author adopts a more intimate, authoritative tone, claiming personal experience in both the West Indies and the Northern Colonies to sway the legislator. The conclusion is a desperate plea for the protection of the traditional mercantile order, insisting that Parliament must act with a "severe and jealous eye" to keep the Empire's trade entirely in British hands, lest the colonies grow too powerful to control.

How It Unfolds

The hierarchy of value. The author begins by asserting that sugar colonies are inherently more valuable than New England, as they produce commodities that do not compete with British manufacturing.

The rising threat. The text moves to document how New England has already begun to usurp British shipping, fishing, and manufacturing, framing this growth as a betrayal.

The anatomy of a myth. The author systematically challenges the economic data provided by New England merchants, labeling their reports as exaggerated or outright falsehoods.

The distilled deception. The focus narrows to the molasses trade, describing the local rum production in New England as a "pernicious" industry that supports foreign enemies.

The appeal to virtue. The argument shifts from trade mechanics to social character, contrasting the perceived refinement of island planters with the supposed greed of Northern traders.

The final petition. The closing letter synthesizes these points, urging the Member of Parliament to disregard private interests and prioritize the long-term, unified wealth of the British Empire.

The People

The central conflict involves two distinct colonial archetypes. On one side are the Sugar Planters of the West Indies, whom the author characterizes as "polite," "hospitable," and inherently loyal because their geographical isolation and economic reliance make them permanent, docile assets to the Crown. They are portrayed as the victims of a system that forces them to compete with the French while being undercut by their own kin.

Opposing them are the New England Traders and Distillers. These figures are depicted as the antagonists of the narrative—ambitious, clever, and inherently subversive. The author describes them as "unnatural" because they possess the drive to manufacture goods that compete with England’s own exports. They are motivated by "lucre," willing to trade with the French and Dutch to secure their own profit at the expense of the Empire. Standing above both groups is the Member of Parliament, the recipient of the final appeal. This figure represents the state’s potential for wisdom and justice, tasked with the heavy responsibility of choosing between the "private interest" of a few merchants and the "public good" of the British nation. The author positions himself as the impartial expert, the bridge between these distant regions, whose duty is to provide the "undoubted evidence" necessary for the legislator to make the correct, albeit restrictive, choice.

In Its Own Voice

"It is situated partly in the same Climate as England, and a great part of it in a much more genial one."

The author describes the physical geography of New England, emphasizing its dangerous potential to become a self-sufficient rival to the mother country.

"Thus (if I may be allow’d to use a New England Simile) the Cuckow sucks the Eggs, and destroys the Offspring of that very Bird which hatch’d it first into Life."

This metaphor illustrates the author's belief that New England is actively destroying the economic foundations of the nation that enabled its initial settlement.

"For oh! it much imports you, ’tis your all / To keep your Trade intire, intire the Force / And Honour of your Fleets; o’er that to watch / Even with a Hand severe and jealous Eye."

The author concludes the letter by invoking a poetic warning to Parliament, urging a strict and vigilant control over colonial commerce.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the inherent conflict between colonial autonomy and imperial control. The book questions whether a colony can ever truly serve the interests of the mother country once it achieves the capacity for self-sufficiency. It operates on the mercantilist conviction that wealth is finite and that any gain in colonial power is necessarily a loss for Britain. The "problem" of New England is not just a trade imbalance; it is the philosophical dilemma of an "infant" entity growing large enough to threaten the adult. The text grapples with the anxiety of a global power watching its own children develop the skills and industries that made it a power in the first place, leading to a conclusion that favors absolute regulation to prevent inevitable political separation.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential reading for anyone interested in the pre-revolutionary tensions that defined the British Atlantic. To read it is to step into the mindset of a colonial administrator who sees the American spirit of enterprise not as a virtue, but as a symptom of future rebellion. It is a dense, repetitive, and often angry document, reflecting the high-stakes lobbying of the 1730s. Readers will find the author’s tone bracingly elitist and his disdain for New Englanders quite transparent, which makes the text historically revealing. While the long, dry calculations regarding hogsheads of rum and the price of lumber may be taxing for the modern reader, they are crucial for understanding the granular economic grievances that underpinned the divide between the American colonies and London. You will walk away with a vivid understanding of how the concept of "the public good" was manipulated to justify state intervention, and why, to the eyes of the British establishment, the seeds of the American Revolution were sown in the very commerce they sought to restrict. It is an uncomfortable, illuminating look at the mechanics of empire.