But it is more probable that the breach of national faith will be the necessary effect of wars, defeats, misfortunes, and public calamities, or even perhaps of victories and conquests. I must confess, when I see princes and states fighting and quarrelling, amidst their debts, funds, and public mortgages, it always brings to my mind a match of cudgel-playing fought in a china-shop. How can it be expected that sovereigns will spare a species of property which is pernicious to themselves and to the public, when they have so little compassion on lives and properties which are useful to both? Let the time come (and surely it will come) when the new funds created for the exigencies of the year are not subscribed to, and raise not the money projected. Suppose either that the cash of the nation is exhausted, or that our faith, which has hitherto been so ample, begins to fail us; suppose that in this distress the nation is threatened with an invasion; a rebellion is suspected or broken out at home; a squadron cannot be equipped for want of pay, victuals, or repairs; or even a foreign subsidy cannot be advanced—what must a prince or minister do in such an emergence? The right of self-preservation is unalienable in every individual, much more in every community; and the folly of our statesmen must then be greater than the folly of those who first contracted debt, or, what is more, than that of those who trusted, or continue to trust this security, if these statesmen have the means of safety in their hands and do not employ them. The funds, created and mortgaged, will by that time bring in a large yearly revenue, sufficient for the defence and security of the nation. Money is perhaps lying in the exchequer, ready for the discharge of the quarterly interest. Necessity calls, fear urges, reason exhorts, compassion alone exclaims; the money will immediately be seized for the current service—under the most solemn protestations, perhaps, of being immediately replaced. But no more is requisite; the whole fabric, already tottering, falls to the ground, and buries thousands in its ruins. And this, I think, may be called the natural death of public credit; for to this period it tends as naturally as an animal body to its dissolution and destruction.​[32]