He went on to expound his theory, which was that London should no longer be the only seat of Government, but that England, Scotland, and Ireland should be joined together in a federal Union. ‘That London,’ he said, ‘should draw the riches and government of the three kingdoms to the south-east corner of this island, is in some degree as unnatural as for one city to possess the riches and government of the world.... I shall add that so many different seats of Government will highly encourage virtue. For all the same offices that belong to a great kingdom must be in each of them; with this difference, that the offices of such a kingdom being always burdened with more business than any one man can rightly execute, most things are abandoned to the rapacity of servants; and the extravagant profits of great officers plunge them into all manner of luxury, and debauch them from doing good; whereas the offices of these lesser Governments, extending only over a moderate number of people, will be duly executed, and many men have occasions put into their hands of doing good to their fellow-citizens. So many different seats of Government will highly tend to the improvement of all arts and sciences, and afford great variety of entertainment to all foreigners, and others of a curious and inquisitive genius, as the ancient cities of Greece did.’ ‘I perceive now,’ Sir Edward broke in, ‘the tendency of all this discourse. On my conscience, he has contrived the whole scheme to no other end than to set his own country on an equal foot with England and the rest of the world.’ Fletcher’s answer was that Scotland, if separated from England, must be involved in constant war; but that if united to England, and at the same time left in possession of the power of self-government, she would be prosperous. ‘This,’ he exclaimed, ‘is the only just and rational kind of Union. All other coalitions are but the unjust subjection of one people to another.’ At this point the conversation ended. ‘I was going on,’ he concludes, ‘to open many things concerning those leagued Governments, when a servant came to acquaint us that dinner was set on the table. We were nobly entertained, and after dinner I took leave of the company, and returned to my lodgings, having promised to meet them again at another time to discourse further on the same subject.’ This imaginary dialogue is perhaps the best known of Fletcher’s writings. The style almost approaches that of the _Tatlers_ and _Spectators_, and it contains the well-known saying about ballads. Sir Christopher alludes to the infamous ballads which were sung in the streets of London, and their bad influence on the morals of the people. ‘One would think,’ says Cromartie, ‘this last were of no great consequence.’ ‘I knew,’ remarks Fletcher, ‘a very wise man so much of Sir Christopher’s sentiment that he believed if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation.’