CHAPTER I.

THE great and unlooked for diſcoveries that have taken place of late years in natural philoſophy; the increaſing dif⯑fuſion of general knowledge from the ex⯑tenſion of the art of printing; the ardent and unſhackled ſpirit of inquiry that pre⯑vails throughout the lettered, and even un⯑lettered world; the new and extraordinary [2] lights that have been thrown on political ſubjects, which dazzle, and aſtoniſh the underſtanding; and particularly that tre⯑mendous phenomenon in the political horizon the French revolution, which, like a blazing comet, feems deſtined either to inſpire with freſh life and vigour, or to ſcorch up and deſtroy the ſhrinking in⯑habitants of the earth, have all concurred to lead many able men into the opinion, that we were touching on a period big with the moſt important changes, changes that would in ſome meaſure be deciſive of the future fate of mankind.

It has been ſaid, that the great queſtion is now at iſſue, whether man ſhall hence⯑forth ſtart forwards with accelerated ve⯑locity towards illimitable, and hitherto unconceived improvement; or be con⯑demned to a perpetual oſcillation between happineſs and miſery, and after every [3] effort remain ſtill at an immeaſurable diſtance from the wiſhed-for goal.

Yet, anxiouſly as every friend of man⯑kind muſt look forwards to the termina⯑tion of this painful ſuſpenſe; and, eagerly as the inquiring mind would hail every ray of light that might aſsiſt its view into futurity, it is much to be lamented, that the writers on each ſide of this momentous queſtion ſtill keep far aloof from each other. Their mutual arguments do not meet with a candid examination. The queſtion is not brought to reſt on fewer points; and even in theory ſcarcely ſeems to be approaching to a deciſion.

The advocate for the preſent order of things, is apt to treat the ſect of ſpe⯑culative philoſphers, either as a ſet of artful and deſigning knaves, who preach up ardent benevolence, and draw capti⯑vating [4] pictures of a happier ſtate of ſo⯑ciety, only the better to enable them to deſtroy the preſent eſtabliſhments, and to forward their own deep-laid ſchemes of ambition: or, as wild and mad-headed enthuſiaſts, whoſe ſilly ſpeculations, and abſurd paradoxes, are not worthy the at⯑tention of any reaſonable man.

The advocate for the perfectibility of man, and of ſociety, retorts on the de⯑fender of eſtabliſhments a more than equal contempt. He brands him as the ſlave of the moſt miſerable, and narrow prejudices; or, as the defender of the abuſes of civil ſociety, only becauſe he profits by them. He paints him either as a character who proſtitutes his under⯑ſtanding to his intereſt; or as one whoſe powers of mind are not of a ſize to graſp any thing great and noble; who cannot ſee above five yards before him; and who [5] muſt therefore be utterly unable to take in the views of the enlightened benefactor of mankind.

In this unamicable conteſt, the cauſe of truth cannot but ſuffer. The really good arguments on each ſide of the queſtion are not allowed to have their proper weight. Each purſues his own theory, little ſoli⯑citous to correct, or improve it, by an at⯑tention to what is advanced by his op⯑ponents.

The friend of the preſent order of things condemns all political ſpeculations in the groſs. He will not even condeſcend to examine the grounds from which the perfectibility of ſociety is inferred. Much leſs will he give himſelf the trouble in a fair and candid manner to attempt an expoſition of their fallacy.

[6] The ſpeculative philoſopher equally offends againſt the cauſe of truth. With eyes fixed on a happier ſtate of ſociety, the bleſsings of which he paints in the moſt captivating colours, he allows him⯑ſelf to indulge in the moſt bitter in⯑vectives againſt every preſent eſtabliſh⯑ment, without applying his talents to con⯑ſider the beſt and ſafeſt means of removing abuſes, and without ſeeming to be aware of the tremendous obſtacles that threaten, even in theory, to oppoſe the progreſs of man towards perfection.

It is an acknowledged truth in philo⯑ſophy, that a juſt theory will always be confirmed by experiment. Yet ſo much friction, and ſo many minute circum⯑ſtances occur in practice, which it is next to impoſsible for the moſt enlarged and penetrating mind to foreſee, that on few ſubjects can any theory be pronounced [7] juſt, that has not ſtood the teſt of ex⯑perience. But an untried theory cannot fairly be advanced as probable, much leſs as juſt, till all the arguments againſt it, have been maturely weighed, and clearly and conſiſtently reſuted.

I have read ſome of the ſpeculations on the perfectibility of man and of ſociety, with great pleaſure. I have been warmed and delighted with the enchanting pic⯑ture which they hold forth. I ardently wiſh for ſuch happy improvements. But I ſee great, and, to my underſtanding, unconquerable difficulties in the way to them. Theſe difficulties it is my preſent purpoſe to ſtate; declaring, at the ſame time, that ſo far from exulting in them, as a cauſe of triumph over the friends of innovation, nothing would give me greater pleaſure than to ſee them completely re⯑moved.

[8] The moſt important argument that I ſhall adduce is certainly not new. The principles on which it depends have been explained in part by Hume, and more at large by Dr. Adam Smith. It has been advanced and applied to the preſent ſub⯑ject, though not with its proper weight, or in the moſt forcible point of view, by Mr. Wallace: and it may probably have been ſtated by many writers that I have never met with. I ſhould certainly therefore not think of advancing it again, though I mean to place it in a point of view in ſome degree different from any that I have hitherto ſeen, if it had ever been fairly and ſatisfactorily anſwered.

The cauſe of this neglect on the part of the advocates for the perfectibility of man⯑kind, is not eaſily accounted for. I cannot doubt the talents of ſuch men as Godwin and Condorcet. I am unwilling to doubt their [9] candour. To my underſtanding, and pro⯑bably to that of moſt others, the difficulty appears inſurmountable. Yet theſe men of acknowledged ability and penetration, ſcarcely deign to notice it, and hold on their courſe in ſuch ſpeculations, with unabated ardour, and undiminiſhed con⯑fidence. I have certainly no right to ſay that they purpoſely ſhut their eyes to ſuch arguments. I ought rather to doubt the validity of them, when neglected by ſuch men, however forcibly their truth may ſtrike my own mind. Yet in this reſpect it muſt be acknowledged that we are all of us too prone to err. If I ſaw a glaſs of wine repeatedly preſented to a man, and he took no notice of it, I ſhould be apt to think that he was blind or uncivil. A juſter philoſophy might teach me rather to think that my eyes deceived me, and that the offer was not really what I con⯑ceived it to be.

[10] In entering upon the argument I muſt premiſe that I put out of the queſtion, at preſent, all mere conjectures; that is, all ſuppoſitions, the probable realization of which cannot be inferred upon any juſt philoſophical grounds. A writer may tell me that he thinks man will ultimately be⯑come an oſtrich. I cannot properly con⯑tradict him. But before he can expect to bring any reaſonable perſon over to his opinion, he ought to ſhew, that the neeks of mankind have been gradually elon⯑gating; that the lips have grown harder, and more prominent; that the legs and feet are daily altering their ſhape; and that the hair is beginning to change into ſtubs of feathers. And till the probability of ſo wonderful a converſion can be ſhewn, it is ſurely loſt time and loſt eloquence to expatiate on the happineſs of man in ſuch a ſtate; to deſcribe his powers, both of running and flying; to paint him in [11] a condition where all narrow luxuries would be contemned; where he would be employed only in collecting the neceſ⯑ſaries of life; and where, conſequently, each man's ſhare of labour would be light, and his portion of leiſure ample.

I think I may fairly make two poſtu⯑lata.

Firſt, That food is neceſſary to the exiſtence of man.

Secondly, That the paſsion between the ſexes is neceſſary, and will remain nearly in its preſent ſtate.

Theſe two laws ever ſince we have had any knowledge of mankind, appear to have been fixed laws of our nature; and, as we have not hitherto ſeen any alteration in them, we have no right [12] to conclude that they will ever ceaſe to be what they now are, without an immediate act of power in that Being who firſt arranged the ſyſtem of the univerſe; and for the advantage of his creatures, ſtill executes, according to fixed laws, all its various operations.

I do not know that any writer has ſuppoſed that on this earth man will ultimately be able to live without food. But Mr. Godwin has conjectured that the paſsion between the ſexes may in time be extinguiſhed. As, however, he calls this part of his work, a deviation into the land of conjecture, I will not dwell longer upon it at preſent, than to ſay, that the beſt arguments for the perfectibility of man, are drawn from a contemplation of the great progreſs that he has already made from the ſavage ſtate, and the difficulty of ſaying where [13] he is to ſtop. But towards the extinc⯑tion of the paſsion between the ſexes, no progreſs whatever has hitherto been made. It appears to exiſt in as much force at preſent as it did two thouſand, or four thouſand years ago. There are individual exceptions now as there al⯑ways have been. But, as theſe excep⯑tions do not appear to increaſe in num⯑ber, it would ſurely be a very unphi⯑loſophical mode of arguing, to infer merely from the exiſtence of an excep⯑tion, that the exception would, in time, become the rule, and the rule the ex⯑ception.

Aſſuming then, my poſtulata as granted, I ſay, that the power of population is indefinitely greater than the power in the earth to produce ſubſiſtence for man.

[14] Population, when unchecked, increaſes in a geometrical ratio. Subſiſtence in⯑creaſes only in an arithmetical ratio. A ſlight acquaintance with numbers will ſhew the immenſity of the firſt power in compariſon of the ſecond.

By that law of our nature which makes food neceſſary to the life of man, the effects of theſe two unequal powers muſt be kept equal.

This implies a ſtrong and conſtantly operating check on population from the difficulty of ſubſiſtence. This difficulty muſt fall ſome where; and muſt neceſ⯑ſarily be ſeverely felt by a large portion of mankind.

Through the animal and vegetable kingdoms, nature has ſcattered the ſeeds [15] of life abroad with the moſt profuſe and liberal hand. She has been com⯑paratively ſparing in the room, and the nouriſhment neceſſary to rear them. The germs of exiſtence contained in this ſpot of earth, with ample food, and ample room to expand in, would fill millions of worlds in the courſe of a few thouſand years. Neceſsity, that impe⯑rious all pervading law of nature, reſ⯑trains them within the preſcribed bounds. The race of plants, and the race of animals ſhrink under this great reſtric⯑tive law. And the race of man can⯑not, by any efforts of reaſon, eſcape from it. Among plants and animals its effects are waſte of ſeed, ſickneſs, and premature death. Among mankind, miſery and vice. The former, miſery, is an abſolutely neceſſary conſequence of it. Vice is a highly probable con⯑ſequence, and we therefore ſee it abun⯑dantly [16] prevail; but it ought not, per⯑haps, to be called an abſolutely neceſ⯑ſary conſequence. The ordeal of virtue is to reſiſt all temptation to evil.

This natural inequality of the two powers of population, and of production in the earth, and that great law of our nature which muſt conſtantly keep their effects equal, form the great difficulty that to me appears inſurmountable in the way to the perfectibility of ſociety. All other arguments are of ſlight and ſubordinate conſideration in compariſon of this. I ſee no way by which man can eſ⯑cape from the weight of this law which pervades all animated nature. No fan⯑cied equality, no agrarian regulations in their utmoſt extent, could remove the preſſure of it even for a ſingle cen⯑tury. And it appears, therefore, to be deciſive againſt the poſsible exiſtence of [17] a ſociety, all the members of which, ſhould live in eaſe, happineſs, and comparative leiſure; and feel no anxiety about providing the means of ſubſiſt⯑ence for themſelves and families.

Conſequently, if the premiſes are juſt, the argument is concluſive againſt the perfectibility of the maſs of man⯑kind.

I have thus ſketched the general out⯑line of the argument; but I will ex⯑amine it more particularly; and I think it will be found that experience, the true ſource and foundation of all know⯑ledge, invariably confirms its truth.

CHAP. II.

I SAID that population, when un⯑checked, increaſed in a geometrical ratio; and ſubſiſtence for man in an arithmetical ratio.

Let us examine whether this poſi⯑tion be juſt.

I think it will be allowed, that no ſtate has hitherto exiſted (at leaſt that we have any account of) where the [19] manners were ſo pure and ſimple, and the means of ſubſiſtence ſo abundant, that no check whatever has exiſted to early marriages; among the lower claſſes, from a fear of not providing well for their families; or among the higher claſſes, from a fear of lowering their con⯑dition in life. Conſequently in no ſtate that we have yet known, has the power of population been left to exert itſelf with perfect freedom.

Whether the law of marriage be in⯑ſtituted, or not, the dictate of nature and virtue, ſeems to be an early attach⯑ment to one woman. Suppoſing a liberty of changing in the caſe of an unfortu⯑nate choice, this liberty would not affect population till it aroſe to a height greatly vicious; and we are now ſuppoſing the exiſtence of a ſociety where vice is ſcarcely known.

[20] In a ſtate therefore of great equality and virtue, where pure and ſimple man⯑ners prevailed, and where the means of ſubſiſtence were ſo abundant, that no part of the ſociety could have any fears about providing amply for a family, the power of population being left to exert itſelf unchecked, the increaſe of the human ſpecies would evidently be much greater than any increaſe that has been hitherto known.

In the United States of America, where the means of ſubſiſtence have been more ample, the manners of the people more pure, and conſequently the checks to early marriages fewer, than in any of the modern ſtates of Europe, the population has been found to double itſelf in twenty-five years.

This ratio of increaſe, though ſhort of the utmoſt power of population, yet [21] as the reſult of actual experience, we will take as our rule; and ſay,

That population, when unchecked, goes on doubling itſelf every twenty-five years, or increaſes in a geometrical ratio.

Let us now take any ſpot of earth, this Iſland for inſtance, and ſee in what ratio the ſubſiſtence it affords can be ſuppoſed to increaſe. We will begin with it under its preſent ſtate of culti⯑vation.

If I allow that by the beſt poſsible policy, by breaking up more land, and by great encouragements to agriculture, the produce of this Iſland may be doubled in the firſt twenty-five years, I think it will be allowing as much as any perſon can well demand.

[22] In the next twenty-five years, it is impoſsible to ſuppoſe that the produce could be quadrupled. It would be contrary to all our knowledge of the qualities of land. The very utmoſt that we can conceive, is, that the increaſe in the ſecond twenty-five years might equal the preſent produce. Let us then take this for our rule, though certainly far beyond the truth; and allow that by great exertion, the whole produce of the Iſland might be increaſed every twenty-five years, by a quantity of ſubſiſtence equal to what it at preſent produces. The moſt enthuſiaſtic ſpeculator cannot ſuppoſe a greater increaſe than this. In a few centuries it would make every acre of land in the Iſland like a garden.

Yet this ratio of increaſe is evidently arithmetical.

[23] It may be fairly ſaid, therefore, that the means of ſubſiſtence increaſe in an arithmetical ratio.

Let us now bring the effects of theſe two ratios together.

The population of the Iſland is com⯑puted to be about ſeven millions; and we will ſuppoſe the preſent produce equal to the ſupport of ſuch a number. In the firſt twenty-five years the popu⯑lation would be fourteen millions; and the food being alſo doubled, the means of ſubſiſtence would be equal to this increaſe. In the next twenty-five years the population would be twenty-eight millions; and the means of ſubſiſtence only equal to the ſupport of twenty-one millions. In the next period, the popu⯑lation would be fifty-ſix millions, and the means of ſubſiſtence juſt ſufficient for [24] half that number. And at the conclu⯑ſion of the firſt century, the population would be one hundred and twelve mil⯑lions, and the means of ſubſiſtence only equal to the ſupport of thirty-five mil⯑lions; which would leave a population of ſeventy-ſeven millions totally unprovided for.

A great emigration neceſſarily implies unhappineſs of ſome kind or other in the country that is deſerted. For few per⯑ſons will leave their families, connec⯑tions, friends, and native land, to ſeek a ſettlement in untried foreign climes, without ſome ſtrong ſubſiſting cauſes of uneaſineſs where they are, or the hope of ſome great advantages in the place to which they are going.

But to make the argument more ge⯑neral, and leſs interrupted by the par⯑tial [25] views of emigration, let us take the whole earth, inſtead of one ſpot, and ſuppoſe that the reſtraints to population were univerſally removed. If the ſub⯑ſiſtence for man that the earth affords was to be increaſed every twenty-five years by a quantity equal to what the whole world at preſent produces; this would allow the power of production in the earth to be abſolutely unlimited, and its ratio of increaſe much greater than we can conceive that any poſsible exer⯑tions of mankind could make it.

Taking the population of the world at any number, a thouſand millions, for inſtance, the human ſpecies would in⯑creaſe in the ratio of—1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, &c. and ſub⯑ſiſtence as—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, &c. In two centuries and a quarter, the population would be to the means of [26] ſubſiſtence as 512 to 10: in three cen⯑turies as 4096 to 13; and in two thou⯑ſand years the difference would be almoſt incalculable, though the produce in that time would have increaſed to an immenſe extent.

No limits whatever are placed to the productions of the earth; they may in⯑creaſe for ever and be greater than any aſsignable quantity; yet ſtill the power of population being a power of a ſuperior order, the increaſe of the human ſpecies can only be kept commenſurate to the increaſe of the means of ſubſiſtence, by the conſtant operation of the ſtrong law of neceſsity acting as a check upon the greater power.

The effects of this check remain now to be conſidered.

[27] Among plants and animals the view of the ſubject is ſimple. They are all im⯑pelled by a powerful inſtinct to the in⯑creaſe of their ſpecies; and this inſtinct is interrupted by no reaſoning, or doubts about providing for their offspring. Wherever therefore there is liberty, the power of increaſe is exerted; and the ſuperabundant effects are repreſſed after⯑wards by want of room and nouriſhment, which is common to animals and plants; and among animals, by becoming the prey of others.

The effects of this check on man are more complicated.

Impelled to the increaſe of his ſpecies by an equally powerful inſtinct, reaſon interrupts his career, and aſks him whether he may not bring beings into the world, for whom he cannot provide [28] the means of ſubſiſtence. In a ſtate of equality, this would be the ſimple queſ⯑tion. In the preſent ſtate of ſociety, other conſiderations occur. Will he not lower his rank in life? Will he not ſub⯑ject himſelf to greater difficulties than he at preſent feels? Will he not be obliged to labour harder? and if he has a large family, will his utmoſt exertions enable him to ſupport them? May he not ſee his offspring in rags and miſery, and elamouring for bread that he cannot give them? And may he not be reduced to the grating neceſsity of forfeiting his in⯑dependence, and of being obliged to the ſparing hand of charity for ſupport?

Theſe conſiderations are calculated to prevent, and certainly do prevent, a very great number in all civilized nations from purſuing the dictate of nature in an early attachment to one woman. And this [29] reſtraint almoſt neceſſarily, though not abſolutely ſo, produces vice. Yet in all ſocieties, even thoſe that are moſt vici⯑ous, the tendency to a virtuous attach⯑ment is ſo ſtrong, that there is a con⯑ſtant effort towards an increaſe of popu⯑lation. This conſtant effort as conſtantly tends to ſubject the lower claſſes of the ſociety to diſtreſs, and to prevent any great permanent amelioration of their condition.

The way in which theſe effects are produced ſeems to be this.

We will ſuppoſe the means of ſub⯑ſiſtence in any country juſt equal to the eaſy ſupport of its inhabitants. The conſtant effort towards population, which is found to act even in the moſt vicious ſocieties, increaſes the number of people before the means of ſubſiſtence are in⯑creaſed. [30] The food therefore which be⯑fore ſupported ſeven millions, muſt now be divided among ſeven millions and a half or eight millions. The poor conſe⯑quently muſt live much worſe, and many of them be reduced to ſevere diſtreſs. The number of labourers alſo being above the proportion of the work in the market, the price of labour muſt tend toward a decreaſe; while the price of pro⯑viſions would at the ſame time tend to rife. The labourer therefore muſt work harder to earn the ſame as he did before. Dur⯑ing this ſeaſon of diſtreſs, the diſcourage⯑ments to marriage, and the difficulty of rearing a family are ſo great, that popu⯑lation is at a ſtand. In the mean time the cheapneſs of labour, the plenty of labourers, and the neceſsity of an in⯑creaſed induſtry amongſt them, encourage cultivators to employ more labour upon their land; to turn up freſh ſoil, and to [31] manure and improve more completely what is already in tillage; till ultimately the means of ſubſiſtence become in the ſame proportion to the population as at the period from which we ſet out. The ſituation of the labourer being then again tolerably comfortable, the reſtraints to population are in ſome degree looſened; and the ſame retrograde and progreſsive movements with reſpect to happineſs are repeated.

This ſort of oſcillation will not be re⯑marked by ſuperficial obſervers; and it may be difficult even for the moſt pene⯑trating mind to calculate its periods. Yet that in all old ſtates ſome ſuch vi⯑bration does exiſt; though from various tranſverſe cauſes, in a much leſs marked, and in a much more irregular manner than I have deſcribed it, no reflecting [32] man who conſiders the ſubject deeply can well doubt.

Many reaſons occur why this oſcilla⯑tion has been leſs obvious, and leſs de⯑cidedly confirmed by experience, than might naturally be expected.

One principal reaſon is, that the hiſ⯑tories of mankind that we poſſeſs, are hiſtories only of the higher claſſes. We have but few accounts that can be de⯑pended upon of the manners and cuſtoms of that part of mankind, where theſe retrograde and progreſsive movements chiefly take place. A ſatisfactory hiſ⯑tory of this kind, of one people, and of one period, would require the conſtant and minute attention of an obſerving mind during a long life. Some of the objects of enquiry would be, in what proportion to the number of adults was [33] the number of marriages: to what ex⯑tent vicious cuſtoms prevailed in conſe⯑quence of the reſtraints upon matrimony: what was the comparative mortality among the children of the moſt diſtreſſed part of the community, and thoſe who lived rather more at their eaſe: what were the variations in the real price of labour: and what were the obſervable differences in the ſtate of the lower claſſes of ſociety, with reſpect to eaſe and hap⯑pineſs, at different times during a certain period.

Such a hiſtory would tend greatly to elucidate the manner in which the con⯑ſtant check upon population acts; and would probably prove the exiſtence of the retrograde and progreſsive move⯑ments that have been mentioned; though the times of their vibration muſt neceſ⯑ſarily be rendered irregular, from the [34] operation of many interrupting cauſes; ſuch as, the introduction or failure of certain manufactures: a greater or leſs prevalent ſpirit of agricultural enterprize: years of plenty, or years of ſcarcity: wars and peſtilence: poor laws: the in⯑vention of proceſſes for ſhortening labour without the proportional extenſion of the market for the commodity: and, par⯑ticularly, the difference between the nominal and real price of labour; a cir⯑cumſtance, which has perhaps more than any other, contributed to conceal this oſcillation from common view.

It very rarely happens that the nomi⯑nal price of labour univerſally falls; but we well know that it frequently remains the ſame, while the nominal price of proviſions has been gradually increaſing. This is, in effect, a real fall in the price of labour; and during this [35] period, the condition of the lower orders of the community muſt gradually grow worſe and worſe. But the farmers and capi⯑taliſts are growing rich from the real cheap⯑neſs of labour. Their increaſed capitals en⯑able them to employ a greater number of men. Work therefore may be plentiful; and the price of labour would conſe⯑quently riſe. But the want of freedom in the market of labour, which occurs more or leſs in all communities, either from pariſh laws, or the more general cauſe of the facility of combination among the rich, and its difficulty among the poor, operates to prevent the price of labour from riſing at the natural period, and keeps it down ſome time longer; perhaps, till a year of ſcarcity, when the clamour is too loud, and the necessity too apparent to be reſiſted.

[36] The true cauſe of the advance in the price of labour is thus concealed; and the rich affect to grant it as an act of compaſsion and favour to the poor, in conſideration of a year of ſcarcity; and when plenty returns, indulge themſelves in the moſt unreaſonable of all com⯑plaints, that the price does not again fall; when a little reflection would ſhew them, that it muſt have riſen long be⯑fore, but from an unjuſt conſpiracy of their own.

But though the rich by unfair combi⯑nations, contribute frequently to prolong a ſeaſon of diſtreſs among the poor; yet no poſsible form of ſociety could pre⯑vent the almoſt conſtant action of miſery, upon a great part of mankind, if in a ſtate of inequality, and upon all, if all were equal.

[37] The theory, on which the truth of this poſition depends, appears to me ſo extremely clear; that I feel at a loſs to conjecture what part of it can be de⯑nied.

That population cannot increaſe with⯑out the means of ſubſiſtence, is a propo⯑ſition ſo evident, that it needs no illuſ⯑tration.

That population does invariably in⯑creaſe, where there are the means of ſubſiſtence, the hiſtory of every people that have ever exiſted will abundantly prove.

And, that the ſuperior power of population cannot be checked, without producing miſery or vice, the ample portion of theſe too bitter ingredients in the cup of human life, and the con⯑tinuance [38] of the phyſical cauſes that ſeem to have produced them, bear too con⯑vincing a teſtimony.

But in order more fully to aſcertain the validity of theſe three propoſitions, let us examine the different ſtates in which mankind have been known to exiſt. Even a curſory review will, I think, be ſufficient to convince us, that theſe propoſitions are incontrovertible truths.

CHAP. III.

IN the rudeſt ſtate of mankind, in which hunting is the principal occu⯑pation, and the only mode of acquiring food; the means of ſubſiſtence being ſcattered over a large extent of territory, the comparative population muſt neceſſa⯑rily be thin. It is ſaid, that the paſsion between the ſexes is leſs ardent among the North American Indians, than among any other race of men. Yet notwithſtanding this apathy, the effort towards population, even in this people, ſeems to be always greater than the means to ſupport it. This appears, from [40] the comparatively rapid population that takes place, whenever any of the tribes happen to ſettle in ſome fertile ſpot, and to draw nouriſhment from more fruitful ſources than that of hunting; and it has been frequently remarked, that when an Indian family has taken up its abode near any European ſettle⯑ment, and adopted a more eaſy and civilized mode of life, that one woman has reared five or ſix, or more children; though in the ſavage ſtate, it rarely hap⯑pens, that above one or two in a family grow up to maturity. The ſame obſer⯑vation has been made with regard to the Hottentots near the Cape. Theſe facts prove the ſuperior power of population to the means of ſubſiſtence in nations of hunters; and that this power always ſhews itſelf the moment it is left to act with freedom.

[41] It remains to inquire, whether this power can be checked, and its effects kept equal to the means of ſubſiſtence, without vice, or miſery.

The North American Indians, conſi⯑dered as a people, cannot juſtly be called free and equal. In all the accounts we have of them, and, indeed, of moſt other ſavage nations, the women are repreſented as much more completely in a ſtate of ſlavery to the men, than the poor are to the rich in civilized countries. One half the nation appears to act as Helots to the other half: and the miſery that checks population falls chiefly, as it always muſt do, upon that part whoſe condition is loweſt in the ſcale of ſociety. The infancy of man in the ſimpleſt ſtate requires conſidera⯑ble attention; but this neceſſary atten⯑tion the women cannot give, condemned [42] as they are, to the inconveniences and hardſhips of frequent change of place, and to the conſtant and unre⯑mitting drudgery of preparing every thing for the reception of their tyran⯑nic lords. Theſe exertions, ſometimes, during pregnancy, or with children at their backs, muſt occaſion frequent miſ⯑carriages, and prevent any but the moſt robuſt infants from growing to matu⯑rity. Add to theſe hardſhips of the women, the conſtant war that prevails among ſavages, and the neceſsity which they frequently labour under of expo⯑ſing their aged and helpleſs parents, and of thus violating the firſt feelings of nature; and the picture will not ap⯑pear very free from the blot of miſery. In eſtimating the happineſs of a ſavage nation, we muſt not fix our eyes only on the warrior in the prime of life: he is one of a hundred: he is the gentle⯑man, [43] the man of fortune, the chances have been in his favour; and many ef⯑forts have failed ere this fortunate be⯑ing was produced, whoſe guardian ge⯑nius ſhould preſerve him through the numberleſs dangers with which he would be ſurrounded from infancy to manhood. The true points of compariſon between two nations, ſeem to be, the ranks in each which appear neareſt to anſwer to each other. And in this view, I ſhould com⯑pare the warriors in the prime of life, with the gentlemen; and the women, children, and aged, with the lower claſſes of the community in civilized ſtates.

May we not then fairly infer from this ſhort review, or rather, from the accounts that may be referred to of na⯑tions of hunters; that their population is thin from the ſcarcity of food; that it would immediately increaſe if food [44] was in greater plenty; and that, put⯑ting vice out of the queſtion among ſa⯑vages, miſery is the check that repreſſes the ſuperior power of population, and keeps its effects equal to the means of ſubſiſtence. Actual obſervation and ex⯑perience, tell us that this check, with a few local and temporary exceptions, is conſtantly acting now upon all ſa⯑vage nations; and the theory indicates, that it probably acted with nearly equal ſtrength a thouſand years ago, and it may not be much greater a thouſand years hence.

Of the manners and habits that pre⯑vail among nations of ſhepherds, the next ſtate of mankind, we are even more ignorant than of the ſavage ſtate. But that theſe nations could not eſcape the general lot of miſery ariſing from the want of ſubſiſtence, Europe, and [45] all the faireſt countries in the world, bear ample teſtimony. Want was the goad that drove the Scythian ſhepherds from their native haunts, like ſo many famiſhed wolves in ſearch of prey. Set in motion by this all powerful cauſe, clouds of Barbarians ſeemed to collect from all points of the northern hemiſ⯑phere. Gathering freſh darkneſs, and terror, as they rolled on, the congre⯑gated bodies at length obſcured the ſun of Italy, and ſunk the whole world in univerſal night. Theſe tremendous ef⯑fects, ſo long and ſo deeply felt through⯑out the faireſt portions of the earth, may be traced to the ſimple cauſe of the ſuperior power of population, to the means of ſubſiſtence.

It is well known, that a country in paſture cannot ſupport ſo many inha⯑bitants as a country in tillage; but what [46] renders nations of ſhepherds ſo formida⯑ble, is, the power which they poſſeſs of moving all together, and the neceſsity they frequently feel of exerting this power in ſearch of freſh paſture for their herds. A tribe that was rich in cattle, had an immediate plenty of food. Even the parent ſtock might be devoured in a caſe of abſolute neceſsity. The wo⯑men lived in greater eaſe than among nations of hunters. The men bold in their united ſtrength, and confiding in their power of procuring paſture for their cattle by change of place, felt, probably, but few fears about providing for a family. Theſe combined cauſes ſoon produced their natural and inva⯑riable effect, an extended population. A more frequent and rapid change of place became then neceſſary. A wider and more extenſive territory was ſucceſsively occupied. A broader deſolation extend⯑ed [47] all around them. Want pinched the leſs fortunate members of the ſociety: and, at length, the impoſsibility of ſupporting ſuch a number together be⯑came too evident to be reſiſted. Young ſcions were then puſhed out from the parent-ſtock, and inſtructed to explore freſh regions, and to gain happier ſeats for themſelves by their ſwords. ‘The world was all before them where to chuſe.’ Reſtleſs from preſent diſtreſs; fluſhed with the hope of fairer proſ⯑pects; and animated with the ſpirit of hardy enterprize, theſe daring adventu⯑rers were likely to become formidable adverſaries to all who oppoſed them. The peaceful inhabitants of the coun⯑tries on which they ruſhed, could not long withſtand the energy of men acting under ſuch powerful motives of exertion. And when they fell in with any tribes like their own, the conteſt was a [48] ſtruggle for exiſtence; and they ſought with a deſperate courage, inſpired by the reflection, that death was the puniſhment of defeat, and life the prize of victory.

In theſe ſavage conteſts many tribes muſt have been utterly exterminated. Some, probably, periſhed by hardſhip and famine. Others, whoſe leading ſtar had given them a happier direction, became great and powerful tribes; and, in their turns, ſent off freſh adventu⯑rers in ſearch of ſtill more fertile ſeats. The prodigious waſte of human life oc⯑caſioned by this perpetual ſtruggle for room and food, was more than ſupplied by the mighty power of population, acting, in ſome degree, unſhackled, from the conſtant habit of emigration. The tribes that migrated towards the South, though they won theſe more fruitful regions by continual battles, rapidly increaſed [49] in number and power, from the in⯑creaſed means of ſubſiſtence. Till, at length, the whole territory, from the confines of China to the ſhores of the Baltic, was peopled by a various race of Barbarians, brave, robuſt, and enter⯑priſing; inured to hardſhip, and delight⯑ing in war. Some tribes maintained their independence. Others ranged them⯑themſelves under the ſtandard of ſome barbaric chieftain, who led them to victory after victory; and what was of more importance, to regions abounding in corn, wine and oil, the long wiſhed for conſummation, and great reward of their labours. An Alaric, an Attila or a Zingis Khan, and the chiefs around them, might fight for glory, for the ſame of extenſive conqueſts; but the true cauſe that ſet in motion the great tide of northern emigration, and that continued to propel it till it rolled at [50] different periods, againſt China, Perſia, Italy, and even Egypt, was a ſcarcity of food, a population extended beyond the means of ſupporting it.

The abſolute population at any one period, in proportion to the extent of territory, could never be great, on ac⯑count of the unproductive nature of ſome of the regions occupied: but there appears to have been a moſt rapid ſuc⯑ceſsion of human beings; and as faſt as ſome were moved down by the ſcythe of war, or of famine, others roſe in in⯑creaſed numbers to ſupply their place. Among theſe bold and improvident Bar⯑barians, population was probably but little checked, as in modern ſtates, from a fear of future difficulties. A prevail⯑ing hope of bettering their condition by change of place; a conſtant expec⯑tation of plunder; a power even, if [51] diſtreſſed, of ſelling their children as ſlaves, added to the natural careleſſneſs of the barbaric character, all conſpired to raiſe a population which remained to be repreſſed afterwards by famine or war.

Where there is any inequality of con⯑ditions, and among nations of ſhep⯑herds this ſoon takes place, the diſtreſs ariſing from a ſcarcity of proviſions, muſt fall hardeſt upon the leaſt fortu⯑nate members of the ſociety. This diſ⯑treſs alſo muſt frequently have been felt by the women, expoſed to caſual plunder in the abſence of their huſ⯑bands, and ſubject to continual diſap⯑pointments in their expected return.

But without knowing enough of the minute and intimate hiſtory of theſe people, to point out preciſely on what [52] part the diſtreſs for want of food chiefly fell; and to what extent it was generally felt; I think we may fairly ſay, from all the accounts that we have of nations of ſhep⯑herds, that population invariably increaſed among them, whenever, by emigration, or any other cauſe, the means of ſub⯑ſiſtence were increaſed; and, that a fur⯑ther population was checked, and the actual population kept equal to the means of ſubſiſtence by miſery and vice.

For, independently of any vicious cuſ⯑toms that might have prevailed amongſt them with regard to women, which al⯑ways operate as checks to population, it muſt be acknowledged, I think, that the commiſsion of war is vice, and the ef⯑fect of it, miſery; and none can doubt the miſery of want of food.

CHAP. IV.

IN examining the next ſtate of man⯑kind with relation to the queſtion be⯑fore us, the ſtate of mixed paſture and tillage, in which, with ſome variation in the proportions, the moſt civilized nations muſt always remain; we ſhall be aſsiſted in our review by what we daily ſee around us, by actual experience, by facts that come within the ſcope of every man's obſervation.

Notwithſtanding the exaggerations of ſome old hiſtorians, there can remain [54] no doubt in the mind of any thinking man, that the population of the princi⯑pal countries of Europe, France, Eng⯑land, Germany, Ruſsia, Poland, Sweden, and Denmark, is much greater than ever it was in former times. The ob⯑vious reaſon of theſe exaggerations, is, the formidable aſpect that even a thinly peopled nation muſt have, when col⯑lected together, and moving all at once in ſearch of freſh ſeats. If to this tre⯑mendous appearance be added a ſuc⯑ceſsion at certain intervals of ſimilar emigrations, we ſhall not be much ſur⯑priſed that the fears of the timid na⯑tions of the South, repreſented the North as a region abſolutely ſwarming with human beings. A nearer and juſter view of the ſubject at preſent, enables us to ſee, that the inference was as abſurd, as if a man in this country, who was continually meeting on the [55] road droves of cattle from Wales and the North, was immediately to conclude that theſe countries were the moſt pro⯑ductive of all the parts of the king⯑dom.

The reaſon that the greater part of Europe is more populous now than it was in former times, is, that the induſ⯑try of the inhabitants has made theſe countries produce a greater quantity of human ſubſiſtence. For, I conceive, that it may be laid down as a poſition not to be controverted, that, taking a ſuf⯑ficient extent of territory to include within it exportation and importation; and allowing ſome variation for the prevalence of luxury, or of frugal habits; that population conſtantly bears a regu⯑lar proportion to the food that the earth is made to produce. In the contro⯑verſy concerning the populouſneſs of an⯑cient [56] and modern nations, could it be clearly aſcertained that the average pro⯑duce of the countries in queſtion, taken altogether, is greater now than it was in the times of Julius Caeſar, the diſ⯑pute would be at once determined.

When we are aſſured that China is the moſt fertile country in the world; that almoſt all the land is in tillage; and that a great part of it bears two crops every year; and further, that the people live very frugally, we may infer with certainty, that the population muſt be immenſe, without buſying ourſelves in inquiries into the manners and ha⯑bits of the lower claſſes, and the encou⯑ragements to early marriages. But theſe inquiries, are of the utmoſt importance, and a minute hiſtory of the cuſtoms of the lower Chineſe would be of the greateſt uſe, in aſcertaining in what [57] manner the checks to a further popu⯑lation operate; what are the vices, and what are the diſtreſſes that prevent an increaſe of numbers beyond the ability of the country to ſupport.

Hume, in his eſſay on the populouſ⯑neſs of ancient and modern nations, when he intermingles, as he ſays, an in⯑quiry concerning cauſes, with that con⯑cerning facts, does not ſeem to ſee with his uſual penetration, how very little ſome of the cauſes he alludes to could enable him to form any judgment of the actual population of ancient nations. If any inference can be drawn from them, perhaps it ſhould be directly the reverſe of what Hume draws, though I certainly ought to ſpeak with great diſ⯑ſidence in diſſenting from a man, who of all others on ſuch ſubjects was the leaſt likely to be deceived by firſt appear⯑ances. [58] If I find that at a certain pe⯑riod in ancient hiſtory, the encourage⯑ments to have a family were great, that early marriages were conſequently very prevalent, and that few perſons remain⯑ed ſingle, I ſhould infer with certainty that population was rapidly increaſing, but by no means that it was then ac⯑tually very great; rather, indeed, the contrary, that it was then thin, and that there was room and food for a much greater number. On the other hand, if I find that at this period the difficulties attending a family were very great; that, conſequently, few early marriages took place, and that a great number of both ſexes remained ſingle, I infer with certainty that population was at a ſtand; and, probably, becauſe the actual popu⯑lation was very great in proportion to the fertility of the land, and that there was ſcarcely room and food for more. [59] The number of footmen, houſemaids, and other perſons remaining unmarried in modern ſtates, Hume allows to be ra⯑ther an argument againſt their popula⯑tion. I ſhould rather draw a contrary inference, and conſider it an argument of their fullneſs; though this inference is not certain, becauſe there are many thinly inhabited ſtates that are yet ſta⯑tionary in their population. To ſpeak, therefore, correctly, perhaps it may be ſaid, that the number of unmarried per⯑ſons in proportion to the whole num⯑ber, exiſting at different periods, in the ſame, or different ſtates, will enable us to judge whether population at theſe periods, was increaſing, ſtationary, or de⯑creaſing, but will form no criterion by which we can determine the actual po⯑pulation.

[60] There is, however, a circumſtance taken notice of in moſt of the accounts we have of China, that it ſeems difficult to reconcile with this reaſoning. It is ſaid, that early marriages very generally prevail through all the ranks of the Chineſe. Yet Dr. Adam Smith ſup⯑poſes that population in China is ſta⯑tionary. Theſe two circumſtances ap⯑pear to be irreconcileable. It certainly ſeems very little probable that the po⯑pulation of China is faſt increaſing. Every acre of land has been ſo long in cultivation, that we can hardly con⯑ceive there is any great yearly addition to the average produce. The fact, per⯑haps, of the univerſality of early mar⯑riages may not be ſufficiently aſcer⯑tained. If it be ſuppoſed true, the only way of accounting for the diffi⯑culty, with our preſent knowledge of the ſubject, appears to be, that the redun⯑dant [61] population, neceſſarily occaſioned by the prevalence of early marriages, muſt be repreſſed by occaſional famines, and by the cuſtom of expoſing chil⯑dren, which, in times of diſtreſs, is pro⯑bably more frequent than is ever ac⯑knowledged to Europeans. Relative to this barbarous practice, it is difficult to avoid remarking, that there cannot be a ſtronger proof of the diſtreſſes that have been felt by mankind for want of food, than the exiſtence of a cuſtom that thus violates the moſt natural principle of the human heart. It appears to have been very general among ancient na⯑tions, and certainly tended rather to in⯑creaſe population.

In examining the principal ſtates of modern Europe, we ſhall find, that though they have increaſed very con⯑ſiderably in population ſince they were [62] nations of ſhepherds, yet that, at pre⯑ſent, their progreſs is but ſlow; and inſtead of doubling their numbers every twenty⯑five years, they require three or four hundred years, or more, for that pur⯑poſe. Some, indeed, may be abſolutely ſtationary, and others even retrograde. The cauſe of this ſlow progreſs in po⯑pulation cannot be traced to a decay of the paſsion between the ſexes. We have ſufficient reaſon to think that this natural propenſity exiſts ſtill in undimi⯑niſhed vigour. Why then do not its effects appear in a rapid increaſe of the human ſpecies? An intimate view of the ſtate of ſociety in any one coun⯑try in Europe, which may ſerve equally for all, will enable us to anſwer this queſtion, and to ſay, that a foreſight of the difficulties attending the rearing of a family, acts as a preventive check; and the actual diſtreſſes of ſome of the [63] lower claſſes, by which they are diſ⯑abled from giving the proper food and attention to their children, acts as a po⯑ſitive check, to the natural increaſe of population.

England, as one of the moſt flouriſhing ſtates of Europe, may be fairly taken for an example, and the obſervations made, will apply with but little varia⯑tion to any other country where the population increaſes ſlowly.

The preventive check appears to ope⯑rate in ſome degree through all the ranks of ſociety in England. There are ſome men, even in the higheſt rank, who are prevented from marrying by the idea of the expences that they muſt retrench, and the fancied pleaſures that they muſt deprive themſelves of, on the ſuppoſition of having a family. Theſe [64] conſiderations are certainly trivial; but a preventive foreſight of this kind has objects of much greater weight for its contemplation as we go lower.

A man of liberal education, but with an income only juſt ſufficient to enable him to aſſociate in the rank of gentle⯑men, muſt feel abſolutely certain, that if he marries and has a family, he ſhall be obliged, if he mixes at all in ſociety, to rank himſelf with moderate farmers, and the lower claſs of tradeſ⯑men. The woman that a man of edu⯑cation would naturally make the object of his choice, would be one brought up in the ſame taſtes and ſentiments with himſelf, and uſed to the familiar intercourſe of a ſociety totally different from that to which ſhe muſt be re⯑duced by marriage. Can a man con⯑ſent to place the object of his affec⯑tion [65] in a ſituation ſo diſcordant, proba⯑bly, to her taſtes and inclinations? Two or three ſteps of deſcent in ſo⯑ciety, particularly at this round of the ladder, where education ends, and igno⯑rance begins, will not be conſidered by the generality of people, as a fan⯑cied and chimerical, but a real and eſ⯑ſential evil. If ſociety be held deſirea⯑ble, it ſurely muſt be free, equal, and reciprocal ſociety, where benefits are conferred as well as received; and not ſuch as the dependent finds with his patron, or the poor with the rich.

Theſe conſiderations undoubtedly pre⯑vent a great number in this rank of life from following the bent of their in⯑clinations in an early attachment. Others, guided either by a ſtronger paſsion, or a weaker judgment, break through theſe reſtraints; and it would be hard indeed, [66] if the gratification of ſo delightful a paſsion as virtuous love, did not, ſome⯑times, more than counterbalance all its attendant evils. But I fear it muſt be owned, that the more general conſe⯑quences of ſuch marriages, are rather calculated to juſtify, than to repreſs, the forebodings of the prudent.

The ſons of tradeſmen and farmers are exhorted not to marry, and generally find it neceſſary to purſue this advice, till they are ſettled in ſome buſineſs, or farm, that may enable them to ſup⯑port a family. Theſe events may not, perhaps, occur till they are far advanced in life. The ſcarcity of farms is a very general complaint in England. And the competition in every kind of buſineſs is ſo great, that it is not poſsible that all ſhould be ſucceſsful.

[67] The labourer who earns eighteen pence a day, and lives with ſome degree of comfort as a ſingle man, will heſi⯑tate a little before he divides that pit⯑tance among four or five, which ſeems to be but juſt ſufficient for one. Harder fare and harder labour he would ſub⯑mit to, for the ſake of living with the woman that he loves; but he muſt feel conſcious, if he thinks at all, that, ſhould he have a large family, and any ill luck whatever, no degree of fruga⯑lity, no poſsible exertion of his manual ſtrength, could preſerve him from the heart rending ſenſation of ſeeing his children ſtarve, or of forfeiting his inde⯑pendence, and being obliged to the pa⯑riſh for their ſupport. The love of in⯑dependence is a ſentiment that ſurely none would wiſh to be eraſed from the breaſt of man: though the pariſh law of England, it muſt be confeſſed, is a [68] ſyſtem of all others the moſt calculated gradually to weaken this ſentiment, and in the end, may eradicate it com⯑pletely.

The ſervants who live in gentlemens' families, have reſtraints that are yet ſtronger to break through, in venturing upon marriage. They poſſeſs the neceſ⯑ſaries, and even the comforts of life, almoſt in as great plenty as their maſ⯑ters. Their work is eaſy, and their food luxurious, compared with the claſs of labourers. And their ſenſe of depen⯑dence is weakened by the conſcious power of changing their maſters, if they feel themſelves offended. Thus com⯑fortably ſituated at preſent, what are their proſpects in marrying. Without knowledge or capital, either for buſineſs, or farming, and unuſed, and therefore [69] unable to earn a ſubſiſtence by daily labour, their only refuge ſeems to be a miſerable alehouſe, which certainly offers no very enchanting proſpect of a happy evening to their lives. By much the greater part, therefore, de⯑terred by this uninviting view of their future ſituation, content themſelves with remaining ſingle where they are.

If this ſketch of the ſtate of ſociety in England be near the truth, and I do not conceive that it is exaggerated, it will be allowed, that the preventive check to population in this country operates, though with varied force, through all the claſſes of the commu⯑nity. The ſame obſervation will hold true with regard to all old ſtates. The effects, indeed, of theſe reſtraints upon marriage are but too conſpicuous in the [70] conſequent vices that are produced in almoſt every part of the world; vices, that are continually involving both ſexes in inextricable unhappineſs.

CHAP. V.

THE poſitive check to population, by which I mean, the check that repreſſes an increaſe which is already begun, is confined chiefly, though not perhaps ſolely, to the loweſt orders of ſociety. This check is not ſo obvious to common view as the other I have mentioned; and, to prove diſtinctly the force and extent of its operation, would require, perhaps, more data than we are in poſ⯑ſeſsion of. But I believe it has been [72] very generally remarked by thoſe who have attended to hills of mortality, that of the number of children who die an⯑nually, much too great a proportion belongs to thoſe, who may be ſuppoſed unable to give their offspring proper food and attention; expoſed as they are occaſionally to ſevere diſtreſs, and confined, perhaps, to unwholeſome ha⯑bitations and hard labour. This mor⯑tality among the children of the poor has been conſtantly taken notice of in all towns. It certainly does not pre⯑vail in an equal degree in the country; but the ſubject has not hitherto received ſufficient attention to enable any one to ſay, that there are not more deaths in proportion, among the children of the poor, even in the country, than among thoſe of the middling and higher claſſes. Indeed, it ſeems difficult to ſup⯑poſe that a labourer's wife who has ſix [73] children, and who is ſometimes in abſo⯑lute want of bread, ſhould be able al⯑ways to give them the food and atten⯑tion neceſſary to ſupport life. The ſons and daughters of peaſants will not be found ſuch roſy cherubs in real life, as they are deſcribed to be in romances. It cannot fail to be remarked by thoſe who live much in the country, that the ſons of labourers are very apt to be ſtunted in their growth, and are a long while arriving at maturity. Boys that you would gueſs to be fourteen or fif⯑teen, are upon inquiry, frequently found to be eighteen or nineteen. And the lads who drive plough, which muſt cer⯑tainly be a healthy exerciſe, are very rarely ſeen with any appearance of calves to their legs; a circumſtance, which can only be attributed to a want either of proper, or of ſufficient nouriſhment.

[74] To remedy the frequent diſtreſſes of the common people, the poor laws of England have been inſtituted; but it is to be feared, that though they may have alleviated a little the intenſity of indi⯑vidual misfortune, they have ſpread the general evil over a much larger ſurface. It is a ſubject often ſtarted in conver⯑ſation, and mentioned always as a mat⯑ter of great ſurpriſe, that notwithſtand⯑ing the immenſe ſum that is annually collected for the poor in England, there is ſtill ſo much diſtreſs among them. Some think that the money muſt be embezzled; others that the church⯑wardens and overſeers conſume the greater part of it in dinners. All agree that ſome how or other it muſt be very ill⯑managed. In ſhort the fact, that nearly three millions are collected annually for the poor, and yet that their diſ⯑treſſes are not removed, is the ſubject [75] of continual aſtoniſhment. But a man who ſees a little below the ſurface of things, would be very much more aſtoniſhed, if the fact were otherwiſe than it is ob⯑ſerved to be, or even if a collection univerſally of eighteen ſhillings in the pound inſtead of four, were materially to alter it. I will ſtate a caſe which I hope will elucidate my meaning.

Suppoſe, that by a ſubſcription of the rich, the eighteen pence a day which men earn now, was made up five ſhil⯑lings, it might be imagined, perhaps, that they would then be able to live comfortably, and have a piece of meat every day for their dinners. But this would be a very falſe concluſion. The transfer of three ſhillings and ſixpence a day to every labourer, would not in⯑creaſe the quantity of meat in the coun⯑try. There is not at preſent enough [76] for all to have a decent ſhare. What would then be the conſequence? The competition among the buyers in the market of meat, would rapidly raiſe the price from ſix pence or ſeven pence, to two or three ſhillings in the pound; and the commodity would not be di⯑vided among many more than it is at preſent. When an article is ſcarce, and cannot be diſtributed to all, he that can ſhew the moſt valid patent, that is, he that offers moſt money becomes the poſſeſſor. If we can ſuppoſe the com⯑petition among the buyers of meat to continue long enough for a greater num⯑ber of cattle to be reared annually, this could only be done at the expence of the corn, which would be a very diſadvantageous exchange; for it is well known that the country could not then ſupport the ſame population; and when ſubſiſtence is ſcarce in proportion to the [77] number of people, it is of little conſe⯑quence whether the loweſt members of the ſociety poſſeſs eighteen pence or five ſhillings. They muſt at all events be reduced to live upon the hardeſt fare, and in the ſmalleſt quantity.

It will be ſaid, perhaps, that the in⯑creaſed number of purchaſers in every article, would give a ſpur to produc⯑tive induſtry, and that the whole pro⯑duce of the iſland would be increaſed. This might in ſome degree be the caſe. But the ſpur that theſe fancied riches would give to population, would more than counterbalance it, and the increaſed produce would be to be di⯑vided among a more than proportion⯑ably increaſed number of people. All this time I am ſuppoſing that the ſame quantity of work would be done as be⯑fore. But this would not really take [78] place. The receipt of five ſhillings a day, inſtead of eighteen pence, would make every man fancy himſelf compa⯑ratively rich, and able to indulge him⯑ſelf in many hours or days of leiſure. This would give a ſtrong and imme⯑diate check to productive induſtry; and in a ſhort time, not only the nation would be poorer, but the lower claſſes themſelves would be much more diſ⯑treſſed than when they received only eighteen pence a day.

A collection from the rich of eighteen ſhillings in the pound, even if diſtri⯑buted in the moſt judicious manner, would have a little the ſame effect as that reſulting from the ſuppoſition I have juſt made; and no poſsible con⯑tributions or ſacrifices of the rich, par⯑ticularly in money, could for any time prevent the recurrence of diſtreſs among [79] the lower members of ſociety whoever they were. Great changes might, in⯑deed, be made. The rich might become poor, and ſome of the poor rich: but a part of the ſociety muſt neceſſarily feel a difficulty of living; and this difficulty will naturally fall on the leaſt fortunate members.

It may at firſt appear ſtrange, but I believe it is true, that I cannot by means of money raiſe a poor man, and enable him to live much better than he did before, without proportionably depreſsing others in the ſame claſs. If I retrench the quantity of food con⯑ſumed in my houſe, and give him what I have cut off, I then benefit him, without depreſsing any but myſelf and family, who, perhaps, may be well able to bear it. If I turn up a piece of uncultivated land, and give him the produce, I then [80] benefit both him, and all the members of the ſociety, becauſe what he before conſumed is thrown into the common ſtock, and probably ſome of the new produce with it. But if I only give him money, ſuppoſing the produce of the country to remain the ſame, I give him a title to a larger ſhare of that produce than formerly, which ſhare he cannot receive without diminiſhing the ſhares of others. It is evident that this effect, in individual inſtances, muſt be ſo ſmall as to be totally impercep⯑tible; but ſtill it muſt exiſt, as many other effects do, which like ſome of the inſects that people the air, elude our groſſer perceptions.

Suppoſing the quantity of food in any country to remain the ſame for many years together; it is evident that this food muſt be divided according to the [81] value of each man's patent ^*, or the ſum of money that he can afford to ſpend in this commodity ſo univerſally in requeſt. It is a demonſtrative truth therefore, that the patents of one ſet of men could not be increaſed in value, without diminiſh⯑ing the value of the patents of ſome other ſet of men. If the rich were to ſubſcribe, and give five ſhillings a day to five hundred thouſand men without retrenching their own tables, no doubt can exiſt, that as theſe men would naturally live more at their eaſe, and conſume a greater quantity of proviſions, there would be leſs food remaining to divide among the reſt; and conſequently each man's patent would be diminiſhed [82] in value, or the ſame number of pieces of ſilver would purchaſe a ſmaller quan⯑tity of ſubſiſtence.

An increaſe of population without a proportional increaſe of food, will evi⯑dently have the ſame effect in lowering the value of each man's patent. The food muſt neceſſarily be diſtributed in ſmaller quantities, and conſequently a day's labour will purchaſe a ſmaller quan⯑tity of proviſions. An increaſe in the price of proviſions would ariſe, either from an increaſe of population faſter than the means of ſubſiſtence; or from a different diſtribution of the money of the ſociety. The food of a country that has been long occupied, if it be in⯑creaſing, increaſes ſlowly and regularly, and cannot be made to anſwer any ſud⯑den demands; but variations in the diſ⯑tribution of the money of a ſociety are [83] not unfrequently occurring, and are un⯑doubtedly among the cauſes that occa⯑ſion the continual variations which we obſerve in the price of proviſions.

The poor-laws of England tend to de⯑preſs the general condition of the poor in theſe two ways. Their firſt obvious tendency is to increaſe population with⯑out increaſing the food for its ſupport. A poor man may marry with little or no proſpect of being able to ſupport a family in independence. They may be ſaid therefore in ſome meaſure to create the poor which they maintain; and as the proviſions of the country muſt, in conſequence of the increaſed population, be diſtributed to every man in ſmaller proportions, it is evident that the labour of thoſe who are not ſupported by pariſh aſsiſtance, will purchaſe a ſmaller quan⯑tity of proviſions than before, and con⯑ſequently [84] more of them muſt be driven to aſk for ſupport.

Secondly, the quantity of proviſions conſumed in workhouſes upon a part of the ſociety, that cannot in general be conſidered as the moſt valuable part, diminiſhes the ſhares that would other⯑wiſe belong to more induſtrious, and more worthy members; and thus in the ſame manner forces more to become de⯑pendent. If the poor in the workhouſes were to live better than they now do, this new diſtribution of the money of the ſociety would tend more con⯑ſpicuouſly to depreſs the condition of thoſe out of the workhouſes, by occaſion⯑ing a riſe in the price of proviſions.

Fortunately for England, a ſpirit of independence ſtill remains among the peaſantry. The poor-laws are ſtrongly [85] calculated to eradicate this ſpirit. They have ſucceeded in part; but had they ſucceeded as completely as might have been expected, their pernicious tendency would not have been ſo long concealed.

Hard as it may appear in individual inſtances, dependent poverty ought to be held diſgraceful. Such a ſtimulus ſeems to be abſolutely neceſſary to pro⯑mote the happineſs of the great maſs of mankind; and every general attempt to weaken this ſtimulus, however benevo⯑lent its apparent intention, will always defeat its own purpoſe. If men are in⯑duced to marry from a proſpect of pariſh proviſion, with little or no chance of maintaining their families in indepen⯑dence, they are not only unjuſtly tempt⯑ed to bring unhappineſs and dependence upon themſelves and children; but they are tempted, without knowing it, to injure all in the ſame claſs with them⯑ſelves. [86] A labourer who marries without being able to ſupport a family, may in ſome reſpects be conſidered as an enemy to all his fellow-labourers.

I feel no doubt whatever, that the pariſh laws of England have contributed to raiſe the price of proviſions, and to lower the real price of labour. They have there⯑fore contributed to impoveriſh that claſs of people whoſe only poſſeſsion is their labour. It is alſo difficult to ſuppoſe that they have not powerfully contributed to generate that careleſneſs, and want of frugality obſervable among the poor, ſo contrary to the diſpoſition frequently to be re⯑marked among petty tradeſmen and ſmall farmers. The labouring poor, to uſe a vulgar expreſsion, ſeem always to live from hand to mouth. Their preſent wants employ their whole attention, and they ſeldom think of the future. Even when they have an opportunity of ſaving [87] they ſeldom exerciſe it; but all that is beyond their preſent neceſsities goes, generally ſpeaking, to the ale-houſe. The poor-laws of England may therefore be ſaid to diminiſh both the power and the will to ſave, among the common people, and thus to weaken one of the ſtrongeſt incentives to ſobriety and induſ⯑try, and conſequently to happineſs.

It is a general complaint among maſter manufacturers, that high wages ruin all their workmen; but it is difficult to con⯑ceive that theſe men would not ſave a part of their high wages for the future ſupport of their families, inſtead of ſpend⯑ing it in drunkenneſs and diſsipation, if they did not rely on pariſh aſsiſtance for ſupport in caſe of accidents. And that the poor employed in manufactures con⯑ſider this aſsiſtance as a reaſon why they may ſpend all the wages they earn, and [88] enjoy themſelves while they can, ap⯑pears to be evident from the number of families that, upon the failure of any great manufactory, immediately fall upon the pariſh; when perhaps the wages earned in this manufactory, while it flouriſhed, were ſufficiently above the price of common country labour, to have allowed them to ſave enough for their ſupport, till they could find ſome other channel for their induſtry.

A man who might not be deterred from going to the ale-houſe, from the conſideration that on his death, or ſick⯑neſs, he ſhould leave his wife and family upon the pariſh, might yet heſitate in thus diſsipating his earnings, if he were aſſured that, in either of theſe caſes, his family muſt ſtarve, or be left to the ſupport of caſual bounty. In China, where the real as well as nominal price of labour is [89] very low, ſons are yet obliged by law to ſupport their aged and helpleſs parents. Whether ſuch a law would be adviſeable in this country, I will not pretend to determine. But it ſeems at any rate highly improper, by poſitive inſtitutions, which render dependent poverty ſo ge⯑neral, to weaken that diſgrace, which for the beſt and moſt humane reaſons ought to attach to it.

The maſs of happineſs among the com⯑mon people cannot but be diminiſhed, when one of the ſtrongeſt checks to idel⯑neſs and diſsipation is thus removed; and when men are thus allured to marry with little or no proſpect of being able to maintain a family in independence. Every obſtacle in the way of marriage muſt undoubtedly be conſidered as a ſpe⯑cies of unhappineſs. But as from the laws of our nature ſome check to popu⯑lation [90] muſt exiſt, it is better that it ſhould be checked from a foreſight of the difficulties attending a family, and the fear of dependent poverty, than that it ſhould be encouraged, only to be re⯑preſſed afterwards by want and ſick⯑neſs.

It ſhould be remembered always, that there is an eſſential difference between food, and thoſe wrought commodities, the raw materials of which are in great plenty. A demand for theſe laſt will not fail to create them in as great a quantity as they are wanted. The de⯑mand for food has by no means the ſame creative power. In a country where all the fertile ſpots have been ſeized, high offers are neceſſary to encourage the farmer to lay his dreſsing on land, from which he cannot expect a profitable re⯑turn for ſome years. And before the [91] proſpect of advantage is ſufficiently great to encourage this ſort of agricultural en⯑terprize, and while the new produce is riſing, great diſtreſſes may be ſuffered from the want of it. The demand for an increaſed quantity of ſubſiſtence is, with few exceptions, conſtant every where, yet we ſee how ſlowly it is an⯑ſwered in all thoſe countries that have been long occupied.

The poor-laws of England were un⯑doubtedly inſtituted for the moſt benevo⯑lent purpoſe; but there is great reaſon to think that they have not ſucceeded in their intention. They certainly mitigate ſome caſes of very ſevere diſtreſs which might otherwiſe occur; yet the ſtate of the poor who are ſupported by pariſhes, conſidered in all its circumſtances, is very far from being free from miſery. But one of the principal objections to [92] them is, that for this aſsiſtance which ſome of the poor receive, in itſelf almoſt a doubtful bleſsing, the whole claſs of the common people of England, is ſub⯑jected to a ſet of grating, inconvenient, and tyrannical laws, totally inconſiſtent with the genuine ſpirit of the conſtitu⯑tion. The whole buſineſs of ſettlements, even in its preſent amended ſtate, is utterly contradictory to all ideas of free⯑dom. The pariſh perſecution of men whoſe families are likely to become chargeable, and of poor women who are near lying-in, is a moſt diſgraceful and diſguſting tyranny. And the obſtruc⯑tions continually occaſioned in the mar⯑ket of labour by theſe laws, have a con⯑ſtant tendency to add to the difficulties of thoſe who are ſtruggling to ſupport themſelves without aſsiſtance.

[93] Theſe evils attendant on the poor-laws, are in ſome degree irremediable. If aſsiſt⯑ance be to be diſtributed to a certain claſs of people, a power muſt be given ſome⯑where of diſcriminating the proper ob⯑jects, and of managing the concerns of the inſtitutions that are neceſſary; but any great interference with the affairs of other people, is a ſpecies of tyranny; and in the common courſe of things, the exerciſe of this power may be expected to become grating to thoſe who are driven to aſk for ſupport. The tyranny of Juſtices, Churchwardens, and Over⯑ſeers, is a common complaint among the poor: but the fault does not lie ſo much in theſe perſons, who probably before they were in power, were not worſe than other people; but in the nature of all ſuch inſtitutions.

[94] The evil is perhaps gone too far to be remedied; but I feel little doubt in my own mind, that if the poor-laws had never exiſted, though there might have been a few more inſtances of very ſevere diſtreſs, yet that the aggregate maſs of happineſs among the common people would have been much greater than it is at preſent.

Mr. Pitt's Poor-bill has the appearance of being framed with benevolent inten⯑tions, and the clamour raiſed againſt it was in many reſpects ill directed, and unreaſonable. But it muſt be confeſſed that it poſſeſſes in a high degree the great and radical defect of all ſyſtems of the kind, that, of tending to increaſe population without increaſing the means for its ſupport, and thus to depreſs the condition of thoſe that are not ſupported [95] by pariſhes, and, conſequently, to create more poor.

To remove the wants of the lower claſſes of ſociety, is indeed an arduous taſk. The truth is, that the preſſure of diſtreſs on this part of a community is an evil ſo deeply ſeated, that no human ingenuity can reach it. Were I to pro⯑poſe a palliative; and palliatives are all that the nature of the caſe will admit; it ſhould be, in the firſt place, the total abolition of all the preſent pariſh-laws. This would at any rate give liberty and freedom of action to the peaſantry of England, which they can hardly be ſaid to poſſeſs at preſent. They would then be able to ſettle without interruption, wherever there was a proſpect of a greater plenty of work, and a higher price for labour. The market of labour would then be free, and thoſe obſtacles remov⯑ed, [96] which as things are now, often for a conſiderable time prevent the price from riſing according to the demand.

Secondly, Premiums might be given for turning up freſh land, and all poſsible encouragements held out to agriculture above manufactures, and to tillage above grazing. Every endeavour ſhould be uſed to weaken and deſtroy all thoſe inſtitu⯑tions relating to corporations, apprentice⯑ſhips, &c. which cauſe the labours of agriculture to be worſe paid than the labours of trade and manufactures. For a country can never produce its proper quantity of food while theſe diſtinctions remain in favour of artizans. Such en⯑couragements to agriculture would tend to furniſh the market with an increaſing quantity of healthy work, and at the ſame time, by augmenting the produce of the country, would raiſe the compara⯑tive [97] price of labour, and ameliorate the condition of the labourer. Being now in better circumſtances, and ſeeing no proſpect of pariſh aſsiſtance, he would be more able, as well as more inclined, to enter into aſſociations for providing againſt the ſickneſs of himſelf or fa⯑mily.

Laſtly, for caſes of extreme diſtreſs, county workhouſes might be eſtabliſhed, ſupported by rates upon the whole king⯑dom, and free for perſons of all counties, and indeed of all nations. The fare ſhould be hard, and thoſe that were able obliged to work. It would be deſireable, that they ſhould not be conſidered as comfortable aſylums in all difficulties; but merely as places where ſevere diſtreſs might find ſome alleviation. A part of theſe houſes might be ſeparated, or others built for a moſt beneficial pur⯑poſe, [98] which has not been unfrequently taken notice of, that of providing a place, where any perſon, whether native or foreigner, might do a day's work at all times, and receive the market price for it. Many caſes would undoubtedly be left for the exertion of individual bene⯑volence.

A plan of this kind, the prelimi⯑nary of which, ſhould be an abolition of all the preſent pariſh laws, ſeems to be the beſt calculated to increaſe the maſs of happineſs among the common people of England. To prevent the recurrence of miſery, is, alas! beyond the power of man. In the vain endeavour to attain what in the nature of things is impoſsible, we now ſacrifice not only poſsible, but certain benefits. We tell the common people, that if they will ſubmit to a code of tyrannical regulations, they ſhall [99] never be in want. They do ſubmit to theſe regulations. They perform their part of the contract: but we do not, nay cannot, perform ours: and thus the poor ſacrifice the valuable bleſsing of liberty, and receive nothing that can be called an equivalent in return.

Notwithſtanding then, the inſtitution of the poor-laws in England, I think it will be allowed, that conſidering the ſtate of the lower claſſes altogether, both in the towns and in the country, the diſtreſſes which they ſuffer from the want of proper and ſufficient food, from hard labour and unwholeſome habitations, muſt operate as a conſtant check to incipient population.

To theſe two great checks to popula⯑tion, in all long occupied countries, which I have called the preventive and [100] the poſitive checks, may be added, vici⯑ous cuſtoms with reſpect to women, great cities, unwholeſome manufactures, luxury, peſtilence, and war.

All theſe checks may be fairly reſolved into miſery and vice.

And that theſe are the true cauſes of the ſlow increaſe of population in all the ſtates of modern Europe, will appear ſuf⯑ficiently evident, from the comparatively rapid increaſe that has invariably taken place, whenever theſe cauſes have been in any conſiderable degree removed.

CHAP. VI.

IT has been univerſally remarked, that all new colonies ſettled in healthy coun⯑tries, where there was plenty of room and food, have conſtantly increaſed with aſtoniſhing rapidity in their population. Some of the colonies from ancient Greece, in no very long period, more than equalled their parent ſtates in numbers and ſtrength. And not to dwell on re⯑mote inſtances, the European ſettle⯑ments in the new world bear ample teſtimony to the truth of a remark, which, indeed, has never, that I know of, been doubted. A plenty of rich land, [102] to be had for little or nothing, is ſo powerful a cauſe of population, as to overcome all other obſtacles. No ſettle⯑ments could well have been worſe ma⯑naged than thoſe of Spain in Mexico, Peru, and Quito. The tyranny, ſuperſti⯑tion, and vices, of the mother-country, were introduced in ample quantities among her children. Exorbitant taxes were exacted by the Crown. The moſt ar⯑bitrary reſtrictions were impoſed on their trade. And the governors were not be⯑hind hand in rapacity and extortion for themſelves as well as their maſter. Yet, under all theſe difficulties, the colonies made a quick progreſs in population. The city of Lima, founded ſince the conqueſt, is repreſented by Ulloa as containing fifty thouſand inhabitants near fifty years ago. Quito, which had been but a hamlet of Indians, is re⯑preſented by the ſame author as in his [103] time equally populous. Mexico is ſaid to contain a hundred thouſand inha⯑bitants, which, notwithſtanding the ex⯑aggerations of the Spaniſh writers, is ſuppoſed to be five times greater than what it contained in the time of Mon⯑tezuma.

In the Portugueſe colony of Braſil, governed with almoſt equal tyranny, there were ſuppoſed to be, thirty years ſince, ſix hundred thouſand inhabitants of European extraction.

The Dutch and French colonies, though under the government of excluſive com⯑panies of merchants, which, as Dr. Adam Smith ſays very juſtly, is the worſt of all poſsible governments, ſtill perſiſted in thriving under every diſad⯑vantage.

[104] But the Engliſh North American co⯑lonies, now, the powerful People of the United States of America, made by far the moſt rapid progreſs. To the plenty of good land which they poſſeſſed in com⯑mon with the Spaniſh and Portugueſe ſettlements, they added a greater de⯑gree of liberty and equality. Though not without ſome reſtrictions on their foreign commerce, they were allowed a perfect liberty of managing their own internal affairs. The political inſti⯑tutions that prevailed were favoura⯑ble to the alienation and diviſion of property. Lands that were not cul⯑tivated by the proprietor within a li⯑mited time, were declared grantable to any other perſon. In Penſylvania there was no right of primogeniture; and in the provinces of New England, the eldeſt had only a double ſhare. There were no tythes in any of the States, and [105] ſcarcely any taxes. And on account of the extreme cheapneſs of good land, a capital could not be more advan⯑tageouſly employed than in agricul⯑ture, which at the ſame time that it ſupplies the greateſt quantity of healthy work, affords much the moſt valuable produce to the ſociety.

The conſequence of theſe favourable circumſtances united, was a rapidity of increaſe, probably without parallel in hiſ⯑tory. Throughout all the northern colo⯑nies, the population was found to dou⯑ble itſelf in 25 years. The original num⯑ber of perſons who had ſettled in the four provinces of new England in 1643, was 21,200 ^*. Afterwards, it is ſuppoſed, [106] that more left them, than went to them. In the year 1760, they were increaſed to half a million. They had therefore all along doubled their own number in 25 years. In new Jerſey the period of doubling appeared to be 22 years; and in Rhode Iſland ſtill leſs. In the back ſettlements, where the inhabitants ap⯑plied themſelves ſolely to agriculture, and luxury was not known, they were found to double their own number in 15 years, a moſt extraordinary inſtance of increaſe ^*. Along the ſea coaſt, which [107] would naturally be firſt inhabited, the period of doubling was about 35 years; and in ſome of the maritime towns, the population was abſolutely at a ſtand.

Theſe facts ſeem to ſhew that popula⯑tion increaſes exactly in the proportion, that the two great checks to it, miſery [108] and vice, are removed; and that there is not a truer criterion of the happineſs and innocence of a people, than the ra⯑pidity of their increaſe. The unwhole⯑ſomeneſs of towns, to which ſome per⯑ſons are neceſſarily driven, from the na⯑ture of their trades, muſt be conſidered as a ſpecies of miſery; and every the ſlighteſt check to marriage, from a proſ⯑pect of the difficulty of maintaining a family, may be fairly claſſed under the ſame head. In ſhort, it is difficult to conceive any check to population, which does not come under the deſcription of ſome ſpecies of miſery or vice.

The population of the thirteen Ameri⯑can States before the war, was reckoned at about three millions. Nobody imagines, that Great Britain is leſs populous at pre⯑ſent for the emigration of the ſmall pa⯑rent ſtock that produced theſe numbers. [109] On the contrary, a certain degree of emi⯑gration, is known to be favourable to the population of the mother country. It has been particularly remarked, that the two Spaniſh provinces from which the greateſt number of people emigrated to America, became in conſequence more populous. Whatever was the original number of Britiſh Emigrants that in⯑creaſed ſo faſt in the North American Colonies; let us aſk, why does not an equal number produce an equal increaſe, in the ſame time, in Great Britain? The great and obvious cauſe to be aſsigned, is, the want of room and food, or, in other words, miſery; and that this is a much more powerful cauſe even than vice, appears ſufficiently evident from the rapidity with which even old States recover the deſolations of war, peſtilence, or the accidents of nature. They are then for a ſhort time placed a little in [110] the ſituation of new ſtates; and the ef⯑fect is always anſwerable to what might be expected. If the induſtry of the in⯑habitants be not deſtroyed by ſear or ty⯑ranny, ſubſiſtence will ſoon increaſe be⯑yond the wants of the reduced numbers; and the invariable conſequence will be, that population which before, perhaps, was nearly ſtationary, will begin imme⯑diately to increaſe.

The fertile province of Flanders, which has been ſo often the ſeat of the moſt deſtructive wars, after a reſpite of a few years, has appeared always as fruitful and as populous as ever. Even the Pa⯑latinate lifted up its head again after the execrable ravages of Lewis the Four⯑teenth. The effects of the dreadful plague in London in 1666, were not percep⯑tible 15 or 20 years afterwards. The traces of the moſt deſtructive famines in [111] China and Indoſtan, are by all accounts very ſoon obliterated. It may even be doubted whether Turkey and Egypt are upon an average much leſs populous, for the plagues that periodically lay them waſte. If the number of people which they contain be leſs now than formerly, it is, probably, rather to be attributed to the tyranny and oppreſsion of the govern⯑ment under which they groan, and the conſequent diſcouragements to agricul⯑ture, than to the loſs which they ſuſ⯑tain by the plague. The moſt tremen⯑dous convulſions of nature, ſuch as vol⯑canic eruptions and earthquakes, if they do not happen ſo frequently as to drive away the inhabitants, or to deſtroy their ſpirit of induſtry, have but a trifling effect on the average population of any ſtate. Naples, and the country under Veſuvius, are ſtill very populous, not⯑withſtanding the repeated eruptions of that [112] mountain. And Liſbon and Lima are now, probably, nearly in the ſame ſtate with re⯑gard to population, as they were before the laſt earthquakes.

CHAP. VII.

BY great attention to cleanlineſs, the plague ſeems at length to be completely expelled from London. But it is not im⯑probable, that among the ſecondary cauſes that produce even ſickly ſeaſons and epidemics, ought to be ranked, a crowded population and unwholeſome and inſufficient food. I have been led [114] to this remark, by looking over ſome of the tables of Mr. Suſmilch, which Dr. Price has extracted in one of his notes to the poſtſcript on the controverſy re⯑ſpecting the population of England and Wales. They are conſidered as very correct; and if ſuch tables were general, they would throw great light on the different ways by which population is repreſſed, and prevented from increaſing beyond the means of ſubſiſtence in any country. I will extract a part of the tables, with Dr. Price's remarks.

‘N. B. In 1709 and 1710, a peſti⯑lence carried off 247, 733 of the inhabi⯑tants [115] of this country, and in 1736 and 1737, epidemics prevailed, which again checked its increaſe.’

It may be remarked, that the greateſt proportion of births to burials, was in the five years after the great peſtilence.

‘In this inſtance the inhabitants ap⯑pear to have been almoſt doubled in 56 years, no very bad epidemics having once interrupted the increaſe, but the three years immediately following the laſt period (to 1759,) were years ſo ſickly that the births were ſunk to 10, 229, and the burials raiſed to 15, 068.’

[116] Is it not probable, that in this caſe, the number of inhabitants had increaſed faſter than the food and the accommoda⯑tions neceſſary to preſerve them in health. The maſs of the people would, upon this ſuppoſition, be obliged to live harder, and a greater number would be crouded together in one houſe; and it is not ſurely improbable, that theſe were among the na⯑tural cauſes that produced the three ſickly years. Theſe cauſes may produce ſuch an effect, though the country, abſolutely conſidered, may not be extremely crowded and populous. In a country even thinly inhabited, if an increaſe of population take place, before more food is raiſed, and more houſes are built, the inhabi⯑tants muſt be diſtreſſed in ſome degree for room and ſubſiſtence. Were the marriages in England, for the next eight or ten years, to be more prolifick than uſual, or even were a greater number of [117] marriages than uſual to take place, ſup⯑poſing the number of houſes to remain the ſame; inſtead of five or ſix to a cot⯑tage, there muſt be ſeven or eight; and this, added to the neceſsity of harder living, would probably have a very un⯑favourable effect on the health of the common people.

‘Epidemics prevailed for ſix years, from 1736, to 1741, which checked the increaſe.’

[118] ‘The years 1738, 1740, 1750, and 1751, were particularly ſickly.’

For further information on this ſub⯑ject, I refer the reader to Mr. Suſmilch's tables. The extracts that I have made are ſufficient to ſhew the periodical, though irregular returns of ſickly ſea⯑ſons; and it ſeems highly probable, that a ſcantineſs of room and food was one of the principal cauſes that occaſioned them.

It appears from the tables, that theſe countries were increaſing rather faſt for old ſtates, notwithſtanding the occaſional ſickly ſeaſons that prevailed. Cultiva⯑tion muſt have been improving, and marriages, conſequently, encouraged. For the checks to population appear to have been rather of the poſitive, than of the preventive kind. When from a proſpect [119] of increaſing plenty in any country, the weight that repreſſes population is in ſome degree removed; it is highly probable that the motion will be con⯑tinued beyond the operation of the cauſe that firſt impelled it. Or, to be more particular, when the increaſing produce of a country, and the increaſing demand for labour, ſo far ameliorate the condi⯑tion of the labourer, as greatly to en⯑courage marriage, it is probable that the cuſtom of early marriages will con⯑tinue, till the population of the coun⯑try has gone beyond the increaſed pro⯑duce: and ſickly ſeaſons appear to be the natural and neceſſary conſequence. I ſhould expect, therefore, that thoſe countries where ſubſiſtence was increaſ⯑ing ſufficiently at times to encourage population, but not to anſwer all its d mands, would be more ſubject to pe⯑riodical epidemics than thoſe where the [120] population could more completely ac⯑commodate itſelf to the average pro⯑duce.

An obſervation the converſe of this will probably alſo be found true. In thoſe countries that are ſubject to pe⯑riodical ſickneſſes, the increaſe of popu⯑lation, or the exceſs of births above the burials, will be greater in the intervals of theſe periods, than is uſual, caeteris paribus, in the countries not ſo much ſubject to ſuch diſorders. If Turkey and Egypt have been nearly ſtationary in their average population for the laſt century, in the intervals of their perio⯑dical plagues, the births muſt have ex⯑ceeded the burials in a greater propor⯑tion than in ſuch countries as France and England.

[121] The average proportion of births to burials in any country for a period of five or ten years, will hence appear to be a very inadequate criterion by which to judge of its real progreſs in popu⯑lation. This proportion certainly ſhews the rate of increaſe during thoſe five or ten years; but we can by no means thence infer, what had been the in⯑creaſe for the twenty years before, or what would be the increaſe for the twenty years after. Dr. Price obſerves, that Sweden, Norway, Ruſsia, and the kingdom of Naples, are increaſing faſt; but the extracts from regiſters that he has given, are not for periods of ſufficient extent to eſtabliſh the fact. It is highly probable, however, that Sweden, Norway, and Ruſsia, are really increaſing in their population, though not at the rate that the proportion of births to burials for the ſhort periods that Dr. Price takes [122] would ſeem to ſhew ^*. For five years, ending in 1777, the proportion of births to burials in the kingdom of Naples, was 144 to 100; but there is reaſon to ſuppoſe, that this proportion would in⯑dicate an increaſe much greater than would be really found to have taken place in that kingdom during a period of a hundred years.

Dr. Short compared the regiſters of many villages and market towns in Eng⯑land for two periods; the firſt, from Queen Elizabeth to the middle of the laſt century, and the ſecond, from dif⯑ferent years at the end of the laſt cen⯑tury, to the middle of the preſent. And from a compariſon of theſe ex⯑tracts, it appears, that in the former pe⯑riod [123] the births exceeded the burials in the proportion of 124 to 100; but in the latter, only in the proportion of 111 to 100. Dr. Price thinks that the regiſters in the former period are not to be depended upon; but, probably, in this inſtance, they do not give incor⯑rect proportions. At leaſt, there are many reaſons for expecting to find a greater exceſs of births above the burials in the former period than in the latter. In the natural progreſs of the popula⯑tion of any country, more good land will, caeteris paribus ^*, be taken into cul⯑tivation in the earlier ſtages of it than [124] in the later. And a greater propor⯑tional yearly increaſe of produce, will almoſt invariably be followed by a greater proportional increaſe of population. But, beſides this great cauſe, which would naturally give the exceſs of births above the burials greater at the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, than in the middle of the preſent century, I cannot help thinking that the occaſional ravages of the plague in the former period, muſt have had ſome tendency to increaſe this proportion. If an average of ten years had been taken in the intervals of the returns of this dreadful diſorder; or if the years of plague had been re⯑jected as accidental, the regiſters would certainly give the proportion of births to burials too high for the real average increaſe of the population. For ſome few years after the great plague in 1666, it is probable that there was a [125] more than uſual exceſs of births above burials, particularly if Dr. Price's opi⯑nion be founded, that England was more populous at the revolution (which hap⯑pened only 22 years afterwards) than it is at preſent.

Mr. King, in 1693, ſtated the pro⯑portion of the births to the burials throughout the Kingdom, excluſive of London, as 115 to 100. Dr. Short makes it, in the middle of the preſent century, 111 to 100, including Lon⯑don. The proportion in France for five years, ending in 1774, was 117 to 100. If theſe ſtatements are near the truth; and if there are no very great va⯑riations at particular periods in the pro⯑portions, it would appear, that the po⯑pulation of France and England has ac⯑commodated itſelf very nearly to the average produce of each country. The [126] diſcouragements to marriage, the conſe⯑quent vicious habits, war, luxury, the ſilent though certain depopulation of large towns, and the cloſe habitations, and inſufficient food of many of the poor, prevent population from increaſing beyond the means of ſubſiſtence; and, if I may uſe an expreſsion which cer⯑tainly at firſt appears ſtrange, ſupercede the neceſsity of great and ravaging epi⯑demics to repreſs what is redundant. Were a waſting plague to ſweep off two millions in England, and ſix mil⯑lions in France, there can be no doubt whatever, that after the inhabitants had recovered from the dreadful ſhock, the proportion of births to burials would be much above what it is in either country at preſent.

In New Jerſey, the proportion of births to deaths on an average of ſeven [127] years, ending in 1743, was as 300 to 100. In France and England, taking the higheſt proportion, it is as 117 to 100. Great and aſtoniſhing as this dif⯑ference is, we ought not to be ſo wonder⯑ſtruck at it, as to attribute it to the miraculous interpoſition of heaven. The cauſes of it are not remote, latent and myſterious; but near us, round about us, and open to the inveſtigation of every inquiring mind. It accords with the moſt liberal ſpirit of philoſophy, to ſuppoſe that not a ſtone can fall, or a plant riſe, without the immediate agency of divine power. But we know from experience, that theſe operations of what we call nature have been conducted al⯑moſt invariably according to fixed laws. And ſince the world began, the cauſes of population and depopulation have pro⯑bably been as conſtant as any of the [128] laws of nature with which we are ac⯑quainted.

The paſsion between the ſexes has appeared in every age to be ſo nearly the ſame, that it may always be con⯑ſidered, in algebraic language, as a given quantity. The great law of neceſsity which prevents population from increaſ⯑ing in any country beyond the food which it can either produce or acquire, is a law, ſo open to our view, ſo ob⯑vious and evident to our underſtandings, and ſo completely confirmed by the ex⯑perience of every age, that we cannot for a moment doubt it. The different modes which nature takes to prevent, or repreſs a redundant population, do not appear, indeed, to us ſo certain and regular; but, though we cannot always predict the mode, we may with cer⯑tainty predict the fact. If the propor⯑tion [129] of births to deaths for a few years, indicate an increaſe of numbers much beyond the proportional increaſed or acquired produce of the country, we may be perfectly certain, that unleſs an emi⯑gration takes place, the deaths will ſhortly exceed the births; and that the increaſe that had taken place for a few years cannot be the real average increaſe of the population of the country. Were there no other depopulating cauſes, every country would, without doubt, be ſubject to periodical peſtilences or fa⯑mines.

The only true criterion of a real and permanent increaſe in the popu⯑lation of any country, is the increaſe of the means of ſubſiſtence. But even this criterion is ſubject to ſome ſlight variations, which are, however, com⯑pletely open to our view and obſerva⯑tions. [130] In ſome countries population appears to have been forced; that is, the people have been habituated by de⯑grees to live almoſt upon the ſmalleſt poſsible quantity of food. There muſt have been periods in ſuch countries when population increaſed permanently, without an increaſe in the means of ſubſiſtence. China ſeems to anſwer to this deſcription. If the accounts we have of it are to be truſted, the lower claſſes of people are in the habit of living almoſt upon the ſmalleſt poſsible quantity of food, and are glad to get any putrid offals that European la⯑bourers would rather ſtarve than eat. The law in China which permits pa⯑rents to expoſe their children, has tended principally thus to force the population. A nation in this ſtate muſt neceſſarily be ſubject to famines. Where a country is ſo populous in proportion to the [131] means of ſubſiſtence, that the average produce of it is but barely ſufficient to ſupport the lives of the inhabitants, any deficiency from the badneſs of ſea⯑ſons muſt be fatal. It is probable that the very frugal manner in which the Gentoos are in the habit of living, con⯑tributes in ſome degree to the famines of Indoſtan.

In America, where the reward of la⯑bour is at preſent ſo liberal, the lower claſſes might retrench very conſiderably in a year of ſcarcity, without materially diſtreſsing themſelves. A famine there⯑fore ſeems to be almoſt impoſsible. It may be expected, that in the progreſs of the population of America, the la⯑bourers will in time be much leſs liber⯑ally rewarded. The numbers will in this caſe permanently increaſe, without a [132] proportional increaſe in the means of ſubſiſtence.

In the different States of Europe there muſt be ſome variations in the propor⯑tion between the number of inhabitants, and the quantity of food conſumed, ariſ⯑ing from the different habits of living that prevail in each State. The labourers of the South of England are ſo accuſ⯑tomed to eat fine wheaten bread, that they will ſuffer themſelves to be half ſtarved, before they will ſubmit to live like the Scotch peaſants. They might perhaps in time, by the conſtant opera⯑tion of the hard law of neceſsity, be reduced to live even like the lower Chineſe: and the country would then, with the ſame quantity of food, ſupport a greater population. But to effect this muſt always be a moſt difficult, and [133] every friend to humanity will hope, an abortive attempt. Nothing is ſo com⯑mon as to hear of encouragements that ought to be given to population. If the tendency of mankind to increaſe be ſo great as I have repreſented it to be, it may appear ſtrange that this increaſe does not come when it is thus repeatedly called for. The true reaſon is, that the demand for a greater population is made without preparing the funds neceſſary to ſupport it. Increaſe the demand for agricultural labour by promoting culti⯑vation, and with it conſequently in⯑creaſe the produce of the country, and ameliorate the condition of the labourer, and no apprehenſions whatever need be entertained of the proportional increaſe of population. An attempt to effect this purpoſe in any other way is vicious, cruel, and tyrannical, and in any ſtate of tolerable freedom cannot therefore ſuc⯑ceed. [134] It may appear to be the intereſt of the rulers, and the rich of a State, to force population, and thereby lower the price of labour, and conſequently the expence of fleets and armies, and the coſt of manufactures for foreign ſale: but every attempt of the kind ſhould be carefully watched and ſtrenuouſly reſiſted by the friends of the poor, particularly when it comes under the deceitful garb of benevolence, and is likely, on that account, to be cheerfully, and cordially received by the common people.

I entirely acquit Mr. Pitt of any ſiniſter intention in that clauſe of his poor bill which allows a ſhilling a week to every labourer for each child he has above three. I confeſs, that before the bill was brought into Parliament, and for ſome time after, I thought that ſuch a regulation would be highly beneficial; [135] but further reflection on the ſubject has convinced me, that if its object be to better the condition of the poor, it is calculated to defeat the very purpoſe which it has in view. It has no ten⯑dency that I can diſcover to increaſe the produce of the country; and if it tend to increaſe population, without in⯑creaſing the produce, the neceſſary and inevitable conſequence appears to be, that the ſame produce muſt be divided among a greater number, and conſe⯑quently that a day's labour will pur⯑chaſe a ſmaller quantity of proviſions, and the poor therefore in general muſt be more diſtreſſed.

I have mentioned ſome caſes, where population may permanently increaſe, without a proportional increaſe in the means of ſubſiſtence. But it is evident that the variation in different States, [136] between the food and the numbers ſup⯑ported by it, is reſtricted to a limit be⯑yond which it cannot paſs. In every country, the population of which is not abſolutely decreaſing, the food muſt be neceſſarily ſufficient to ſupport, and to continue, the race of labourers.

Other circumſtances being the ſame, it may be affirmed, that countries are populous, according to the quantity of human food which they produce; and happy, according to the liberality with which that food is divided, or the quan⯑tity which a day's labour will purchaſe. Corn countries are more populous than paſture countries; and rice countries more populous than corn countries. The lands in England are not ſuited to rice, but they would all bear potatoes: and Dr. Adam Smith obſerves, that if pota⯑toes were to become the favourite vegeta⯑ble [137] food of the common people, and if the ſame quantity of land was employed in their culture, as is now employed in the culture of corn, the country would be able to ſupport a much greater population; and would conſequently in a very ſhort time have it.

The happineſs of a country does not depend, abſolutely, upon its poverty, or its riches, upon its youth, or its age, upon its being thinly, or fully inhabited, but upon the rapidity with which it is increaſing, upon the degree in which the yearly increaſe of food approaches to the yearly increaſe of an unreſricted population. This approximation is al⯑ways the neareſt in new colonies, where the knowledge and induſtry of an old State, operate on the fertile unappro⯑priated land of a new one. In other caſes, the youth or the age of a State is not in [138] this reſpect of very great importance. It is probable, that the food of Great Britain is divided in as great plenty to the inhabitants, at the preſent period, as it was two thouſand, three thouſand, or four thouſand years ago. And there is reaſon to believe that the poor and thinly inhabited tracts of the Scotch Highlands, are as much diſtreſſed by an overcharged population, as the rich and populous pro⯑vince of Flanders.

Were a country never to be over-run by a people more advanced in arts, but left to its own natural progreſs in civiliza⯑tion; from the time that its produce might be conſidered as an unit, to the time that it might be conſidered as a million, during the lapſe of many hun⯑dred years, there would not be a ſingle period, when the maſs of the people [139] could be ſaid to be free from diſtreſs, either directly or indirectly, for want of food. In every State in Europe, ſince we have firſt had accounts of it, millions and millions of human exiſtences have been repreſſed from this ſimple cauſe; though perhaps in ſome of theſe States, an abſolute famine has never been known.

Famine ſeems to be the laſt, the moſt dreadful reſource of nature. The power of population is ſo ſuperior to the power in the earth to produce ſubſiſtence for man, that premature death muſt in ſome ſhape or other viſit the human race. The vices of mankind are active and able miniſters of depopulation. They are the precurſors in the great army of deſtruc⯑tion; and often finiſh the dreadful work themſelves. But ſhould they fail in this war of extermination, ſickly ſeaſons, epi⯑demics, [140] peſtilence, and plague, advance in terrific array, and ſweep off their thouſands and ten thouſands. Should ſuc⯑ceſs be ſtill incomplete; gigantic inevita⯑ble famine ſtalks in the rear, and with one mighty blow, levels the population with the food of the world.

Muſt it not then be acknowledged by an attentive examiner of the hiſtories of mankind, that in every age and in every State in which man has exiſted, or does now exiſt,

That the increaſe of population is neceſſarily limited by the means of ſub⯑ſiſtence.

That population does invariably in⯑creaſe when the means of ſubſiſtence in⯑creaſe. And,

[141] That the ſuperior power of population is repreſſed, and the actual population kept equal to the means of ſubſiſtence by miſery and vice.

CHAP. VIII.

TO a perſon who draws the preceding obvious inferences, from a view of the paſt and preſent ſtate of mankind, it cannot but be a matter of aſtoniſhment, that all the writers on the perfectibility of man and of ſociety, who have noticed the ar⯑gument of an overcharged population, treat it always very ſlightly, and inva⯑riably repreſent the difficulties ariſing from it, as at a great and almoſt immea⯑ſurable diſtance. Even Mr. Wallace, who thought the argument itſelf of ſo much weight, as to deſtroy his whole ſyſtem of equality, did not ſeem to be aware that any [143] difficulty would occur from this cauſe, till the whole earth had been cultivated like a garden, and was incapable of any further increaſe of produce. Were this really the caſe, and were a beautiful ſyſtem of equality in other reſpects prac⯑ticable, I cannot think that our ardour in the purſuit of ſuch a ſcheme ought to be damped by the contemplation of ſo re⯑mote a difficulty. An event at ſuch a diſtance might fairly be left to provi⯑dence: but the truth is, that if the view of the argument given in this eſſay be juſt, the difficulty ſo far from being remote, would be imminent, and imme⯑diate. At every period during the pro⯑greſs of cultivation, from the preſent moment, to the time when the whole earth was become like a garden, the diſtreſs for want of food would be con⯑ſtantly preſsing on all mankind, if they were equal. Though the produce of the [144] earth might be increaſing every year, po⯑pulation would be increaſing much faſter; and the redundancy muſt neceſſarily be repreſſed by the periodical or conſtant ac⯑tion of miſery or vice.

Mr. Condorcet's Eſquiſſe d'un tableau hiſtorique des progrès de l'eſprit humain, was written, it is ſaid, under the preſ⯑ſure of that cruel proſcription which ter⯑minated in his death. If he had no hopes of its being ſeen during his life, and of its intereſting France in his favour, it is a ſingular inſtance of the attachment of a man to principles, which every days ex⯑perience was ſo fatally for himſelf contra⯑dicting. To ſee the human mind in one of the moſt enlightened nations of the world, and after a lapſe of ſome thou⯑ſand years, debaſed by ſuch a fermenta⯑tion of diſguſting paſsions, of fear, cru⯑elty, malice, revenge, ambition, mad⯑neſs, [145] and folly, as would have diſgraced the moſt ſavage nation in the moſt barba⯑rous age, muſt have been ſuch a tremen⯑dous ſhock to his ideas, of the neceſſary and inevitable progreſs of the human mind, that nothing but the firmeſt con⯑viction of the truth of his principles, in ſpite of all appearances, could have with⯑ſtood.

This poſthumous publication, is only a ſketch of a much larger work, which he propoſed ſhould be executed. It neceſ⯑ſarily, therefore, wants that detail and application, which can alone prove the truth of any theory. A few obſervations will be ſufficient to ſhew how com⯑pletely the theory is contradicted, when it is applied to the real, and not to an imaginary ſtate of things.

[146] In the laſt diviſion of the work, which treats of the future progreſs of man to⯑wards perfection, he ſays, that comparing, in the different civilized nations of Eu⯑rope, the actual population with the ex⯑tent of territory; and obſerving their cul⯑tivation, their induſtry, their diviſions of labour, and their means of ſubſiſtence, we ſhall ſee that it would be impoſsible to preſerve the ſame means of ſubſiſtence, and, conſequently, the ſame population, without a number of individuals, who have no other means of ſupplying their wants, than their induſtry. Having al⯑lowed the neceſsity of ſuch a claſs of men, and adverting afterwards to the pre⯑carious revenue of thoſe families that would depend ſo entirely on the life and health of their chief ^*, he ſays, very juſtly, [147] ‘There exiſts then, a neceſſary cauſe of inequality, of dependence, and even of miſery, which menaces, without ceaſing, the moſt numerous and active claſs of our ſocieties.’ The difficulty is juſt, and well ſtated, and I am afraid that the mode by which he propoſes it ſhould be removed, will be found inefficacious. By the application of calculations to the probabilities of life, and the intereſt of money, he propoſes that a fund ſhould be eſtabliſhed, which ſhould aſſure to the old an aſsiſtance, produced, in part, by their own former ſavings, and, in part, by the ſavings of individuals, who in making the ſame ſacrifice, die before they reap the benefit of it. The ſame, or a ſimilar fund, ſhould give aſsiſtance to [148] women and children, who loſe their huſ⯑bands, or fathers; and afford a capital to thoſe who were of an age to found a new family, ſufficient for the proper de⯑velopment of their induſtry. Theſe eſta⯑bliſhments he obſerves, might be made, in the name, and under the protection, of the ſociety. Going ſtill further, he ſays, that by the juſt application of calculations, means might be found of more completely preſerving a ſtate of equality, by pre⯑venting credit from being the excluſive privilege of great fortunes, and yet giv⯑ing it a baſis equally ſolid, and by ren⯑dering the progreſs of induſtry, and the activity of commerce, leſs dependent on great capitaliſts.

Such eſtabliſhments and calculations, may appear very promiſing upon paper, but when applied to real life, they will be found to be abſolutely nugatory. Mr. [149] Condorcet allows, that a claſs of people, which maintains itſelf entirely by in⯑duſtry, is neceſſary to every ſtate. Why does he allows this? No other reaſon can well be aſsigned, than that he conceives that the labour neceſſary to procure ſub⯑ſiſtence for an extended population, will not be performed without the goad of neceſsity. If by eſtabliſhments of this kind, this ſpur to induſtry be removed, if the idle and the negligent are placed upon the ſame footing with regard to their credit, and the future ſupport of their wives and families, as the active and induſtrious; can we expect to ſee men exert that animated activity in bettering their condition, which now forms the maſter ſpring of public proſ⯑perity. If an inquiſition were to be eſtabliſhed, to examine the claims of each individual, and to determine whether he had, or had not, exerted himſelf to the [150] utmoſt, and to grant or refuſe aſsiſt⯑ance accordingly, this would be little elſe than a repetition upon a larger ſcale of the Engliſh poor laws, and would be completely deſtructive of the true princi⯑ples of liberty and equality.

But independent of this great objec⯑tion to theſe eſtabliſhments, and ſuppo⯑ſing for a moment, that they would give no check to productive induſtry, by far the greateſt difficulty remains yet behind.

Were every man ſure of a comfortable proviſion for a family, almoſt every man would have one; and were the riſing ge⯑neration free from the ‘killing froſt’ of miſery, population muſt rapidly increaſe. Of this, Mr. Condorcet ſeems to be fully aware himſelf; and after having deſcribed further improvements, he ſays,

[151] ‘But in this progreſs of induſtry and happineſs, each generation will be called to more extended enjoyments, and in conſequence, by the phyſical conſtitu⯑tion of the human frame, to an in⯑creaſe in the number of individuals. Muſt not there arrive a period then, when theſe laws, equally neceſſary, ſhall coun⯑teract each other? When the increaſe of the number of men ſurpaſsing their means of ſubſiſtence, the neceſſary re⯑ſult muſt be, either a continual dimi⯑nution of happineſs and population, a movement truly retrograde, or at leaſt, a kind of oſcillation between good and evil? In ſocieties arrived at this term, will not this oſcillation be a conſtantly ſubſiſt⯑ing cauſe of periodical miſery? Will it not mark the limit when all further ame⯑lioration will become impoſsible, and point out that term to the perfectibility of the human race, which it may reach [152] in the courſe of ages, but can never paſs?’

He then adds,

‘There is no perſon who does not ſee how very diſtant ſuch a period is from us; but ſhall we ever arrive at it? It is equally impoſsible to pronounce for or againſt the future realization of an event, which cannot take place, but at an aera, when the human race will have attained improvements, of which we can at preſent ſcarcely form a conception.’

Mr. Condorcet's picture of what may be expected to happen when the number of men ſhall ſurpaſs the means of their ſubſiſtence, is juſtly drawn. The oſcilla⯑tion which he deſcribes, will certainly take place, and will, without doubt, be a conſtantly ſubſiſting cauſe of perio⯑dical miſery. The only point in which I differ from Mr. Condorcet with regard [153] to this picture, is, the period, when it may be applied to the human race. Mr. Condorcet thinks, that it cannot poſsi⯑bly be applicable, but at an aera ex⯑tremely diſtant. If the proportion be⯑tween the natural increaſe of popula⯑lation and food, which I have given, be in any degree near the truth, it will appear, on the contrary, that the period when the number of men ſurpaſs their means of ſubſiſtence, has long ſince arrived; and that this neceſſary oſcillation, this conſtantly ſubſiſting cauſe of periodical miſery, has exiſted ever ſince we have had any hiſtories of mankind, does exiſt at preſent, and will for ever continue to exiſt, unleſs ſome decided change take place, in the phy⯑ſical conſtitution of our nature.

Mr. Condorcet, however, goes on to ſay, that ſhould the period, which he [154] conceives to be ſo diſtant, ever arrive, the human race, and the advocates for the perfectibility of man, need not be alarmed at it. He then proceeds to re⯑move the difficulty in a manner, which I profeſs not to underſtand. Having ob⯑ſerved, that the ridiculous prejudices of ſuperſtition, would by that time have ceaſed to throw over morals, a corrupt and degrading auſterity, he alludes, ei⯑ther to a promiſcuous concubinage, which would prevent breeding, or to ſomething elſe as unnatural. To remove the diffi⯑culty in this way, will, ſurely, in the opinion of moſt men, be, to deſtroy that virtue, and purity of manners, which the advocates of equality, and of the per⯑fectibility of man, profeſs to be the end and object of their views.

CHAP. IX.

THE laſt queſtion which Mr. Condorcet propoſes for examination, is, the organic perfectibility of man. He obſerves, that if the proofs which have been already given, and which, in their development will receive greater force in the work it⯑ſelf, are ſufficient to eſtabliſh the indefi⯑nite perfectibility of man, upon the ſup⯑poſition, of the ſame natural faculties, and the ſame organization which he has at preſent; what will be the certainty, what the extent of our hope, if this organization, theſe natural faculties [156] themſelves, are ſuſceptible of ameliora⯑tion?

From the improvement of medicine; from the uſe of more wholeſome food, and habitations; from a manner of liv⯑ing, which will improve the ſtrength of the body by exerciſe, without impairing it by exceſs; from the deſtruction of the two great cauſes of the degradation of man, miſery, and too great riches; from the gradual removal of tranſmiſsible and contagious diſorders, by the improvement of phyſical knowledge, rendered more efficacious, by the progreſs of reaſon and of ſocial order; he infers, that though man will not abſolutely become immor⯑tal, yet that the duration between his birth, and naural death, will increaſe without ceaſing, will have no aſsignable term, and may properly be expreſſed by the word indefinite. He then defines [157] this word to mean, either a conſtant ap⯑proach to an unlimited extent, without ever reaching it; or, an increaſe in the im⯑menſity of ages to an extent greater than any aſsignable quantity.

But ſurely the application of this term in either of theſe ſenſes, to the duration of human life, is in the higheſt degree unphiloſophical, and totally unwarranted by any appearances in the laws of na⯑ture. Variations from different cauſes are eſſentially diſtinct from a regular and unre⯑trograde increaſe. The average duration of human life will, to a certain degree, vary, from healthy or unhealthy climates, from wholeſome or unwholeſome food, from virtuous or vicious manners, and other cauſes; but it may be fairly doubted, whether there is really the ſmalleſt per⯑ceptible advance in the natural duration of human life, ſince firſt we have had [158] any authentic hiſtory of man. The pre⯑judices of all ages have indeed been di⯑rectly contrary to this ſuppoſition, and though I would not lay much ſtreſs upon theſe prejudices, they will in ſome mea⯑ſure tend to prove, that there has been no marked advance in an oppoſite di⯑rection.

It may perhaps be ſaid, that the world is yet ſo young, ſo completely in its in⯑fancy, that it ought not to be expected that any difference ſhould appear ſo ſoon.

If this be the caſe, there is at once an end of all human ſcience. The whole train of reaſonings from effects to cauſes will be deſtroyed. We may ſhut our eyes to the book of nature, as it will no longer be of any uſe to read it. The wildeſt and moſt improbable conjectures may be advanced with as much certainty [159] as the moſt juſt and ſublime theories, founded on careful and reiterated experi⯑ments. We may return again to the old mode of philoſophizing, and make facts bend to ſyſtems, inſtead of eſtabliſhing ſyſtems upon facts. The grand and con⯑ſiſtent theory of Newton, will be placed upon the ſame footing as the wild and excentric hypotheſes of Deſcartes. In ſhort, if the laws of nature are thus fickle and inconſtant; if it can be affirmed, and be believed, that they will change, when for ages and ages they have ap⯑peared immutable, the human mind will no longer have any incitements to in⯑quiry, but muſt remain fixed in inactive torpor, or amuſe itſelf only in bewilder⯑ing dreams, and extravagant fancies.

The conſtancy of the laws of nature, and of effects and cauſes, is the founda⯑tion of all human knowledge; though [160] far be it from me to ſay, that the ſame power which framed and executes the laws of nature, may not change them all ‘in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye.’ Such a change may undoubtedly happen. All that I mean to ſay is, that it is impoſsible to infer it from rea⯑ſoning. If without any previous obſerva⯑ble ſymptoms or indications of a change, we can infer that a change will take place, we may as well make any aſſer⯑tion whatever, and think it as unreaſon⯑able to be contradicted, in affirming that the moon will come in contact with the earth to-morrow, as in ſaying, that the ſun will riſe at its uſual time.

With regard to the duration of human life, there does not appear to have exiſt⯑ed, from the earlieſt ages of the world, to the preſent moment, the ſmalleſt permanent ſymptom, or indication, of in⯑creaſing [161] prolongation.^* The obſervable effects of climate, habit, diet, and other [162] cauſes, on length of life, have furniſhed the pretext for aſſerting its indefinite ex⯑tenſion; and the ſandy foundation on [163] which the argument reſts, is, that be⯑cauſe the limit of human life is unde⯑fined; becauſe you cannot mark its pre⯑ciſe term, and ſay ſo far exactly ſhall it go and no further; that therefore its ex⯑tent may increaſe for ever, and be properly termed, indefinite or unlimited. But the fallacy and abſurdity of this argument will ſufficiently appear from a ſlight exa⯑mination of what Mr. Condorcet calls the organic perfectibility, or degeneration, of the race of plants and animals, which he ſays may be regarded as one of the general laws of nature.

I am told that it is a maxim among the improvers of cattle, that you may breed to any degree of nicety you pleaſe, and they found this maxim upon ano⯑ther, which is, that ſome of the offspring will poſſeſs the deſirable qualities of the parents in a greater degree. In the [164] famous Leiceſterſhire breed of ſheep, the object is to procure them with ſmall heads and ſmall legs. Proceeding upon theſe breeding maxims, it is evident, that we might go on till the heads and legs were evaneſcent quantities; but this is ſo palpable an abſurdity, that we may be quite ſure that the premiſes are not juſt, and that there really is a limit, though we cannot ſee it, or ſay exactly where it is. In this caſe, the point of the greateſt degree of improvement, or the ſmalleſt ſize of the head and legs, may be ſaid to be undefined, but this is very different from unlimited, or from indefininite, in Mr. Condorcet's accepta⯑tion of the term. Though I may not be able, in the preſent inſtance, to mark the limit, at which further improvement will ſtop, I can very eaſily mention a point at which it will not arrive. I ſhould not ſcruple to aſſert, that were the breeding [165] to continue for ever, the head and legs of theſe ſheep would never be ſo ſmall as the head and legs of a rat.

It cannot be true, therefore, that among animals, ſome of the offspring will poſſeſs the deſirable qualities of the parents in a greater degree; or that animals are inde⯑finitely perfectible.

The progreſs of a wild plant, to a beautiful garden flower, is perhaps more marked and ſtriking, than any thing that takes place among animals, yet even here, it would be the height of abſur⯑dity to aſſert, that the progreſs was un⯑limited or indefinite. One of the moſt obvious features of the improvement is the increaſe of ſize. The flower has grown gradually larger by cultivation. If the progreſs were really unlimited, it might be increaſed ad infinitum; but [166] this is ſo groſs an abſurdity, that we may be quite ſure, that among plants, as well as among animals, there is a limit to im⯑provement, though we do not exactly know where it is. It is probable that the gardeners who contend for flower prizes have often applied ſtronger dreſs⯑ing without ſucceſs. At the ſame time, it would be highly preſumptuous in any man to ſay, that he had ſeen the fineſt carnation or anemone that could ever be made to grow. He might however aſſert without the ſmalleſt chance of being contradicted by a future fact, that no carnation or anemone could ever by cultivation be increaſed to the ſize of a large cabbage; and yet there are aſsign⯑able quantities much greater than a cab⯑bage. No man can ſay that he has ſeen the largeſt ear of wheat, or the largeſt oak that could ever grow; but he might eaſily, and with perfect certainty, name a [167] point of magnitude, at which they would not arrive. In all theſe caſes therefore, a careful diſtinction ſhould be made, between an unlimited progreſs, and a progreſs where the limit is merely unde⯑fined.

It will be ſaid, perhaps, that the rea⯑ſon why plants and animals cannot in⯑creaſe indefinitely in ſize, is, that they would fall by their own weight. I an⯑ſwer, how do we know this but from experience? from experience of the de⯑gree of ſtrength with which theſe bodies are formed. I know that a carnation, long before it reached the ſize of a cab⯑bage, would not be ſupported by its ſtalk; but I only know this from my experience of the weakneſs, and want of tenacity in the materials of a carnation ſtalk. There are many ſubſtances in na⯑ture [168] of the ſame ſize that would ſupport as large a head as a cabbage.

The reaſons of the mortality of plants are at preſent perfectly unknown to us. No man can ſay why ſuch a plant is an⯑nual, another biennial, and another en⯑dures for ages. The whole affair in all theſe caſes, in plants, animals, and in the human race, is an affair of experi⯑ence; and I only conclude that man is mortal, becauſe the invariable experi⯑ence of all ages has proved the mortality of thoſe materials of which his viſible body is made.

Sound philoſophy will not autho⯑rize me to alter this opinion of the mortality of man on earth, till it can be clearly proved, that the human race has [169] made, and is making, a decided progreſs towards an illimitable extent of life. And the chief reaſon why I adduced the two particular inſtances from animals and plants, was to expoſe, and illuſtrate, if I could, the fallacy of that argument, which infers an unlimited progreſs, merely becauſe ſome partial improve⯑ment has taken place, and that the limit of this improvement cannot be preciſely aſcertained.

The capacity of improvement in plants and animals, to a certain degree, no per⯑ſon can poſsibly doubt. A clear and de⯑cided progreſs has already been made; and yet, I think it appears, that it would be highly abſurd to ſay, that this pro⯑greſs has no limits. In human life, though there are great variations from different cauſes, it may be doubted, whether, ſince the world began, any [170] organic improvement whatever in the human frame can be clearly aſcertained. The foundations therefore, on which the arguments for the organic perfectibility of man reſt, are unuſually weak, and can only be conſidered as mere conjec⯑tures. It does not, however, by any means, ſeem impoſsible, that by an at⯑tention to breed, a certain degree of im⯑provement, ſimilar to that among ani⯑mals, might take place among men. Whether intellect could be communicated may be a matter of doubt: but ſize, ſtrength, beauty, complexion, and per⯑haps even longevity are in a degree tranſ⯑miſsible. The error does not ſeem to lie, in ſuppoſing a ſmall degree of improve⯑ment poſsible, but in not diſcriminating between a ſmall improvement, the limit of which is undefined, and an improve⯑ment really unlimited. As the human race however could not be improved in [171] this way, without condemning all the bad ſpecimens to celibacy, it is not probable, that an attention to breed ſhould ever become general; indeed, I know of no well-directed attempts of the kind, ex⯑cept in the ancient family of the Bicker⯑ſtaffs, who are ſaid to have been very ſucceſsful in whitening the ſkins, and increaſing the height of their race by prudent marriages, particularly by that very judicious croſs with Maud, the milk-maid, by which ſome capital de⯑fects in the conſtitutions of the family were corrected.

It will not be neceſſary, I think, in order more completely to ſhew the im⯑probability of any approach in man towards immortality on earth, to urge the very great additional weight that an increaſe in the duration of life would give to the argument of population.

[172] Mr. Condorcet's book may be conſider⯑ed, not only as a ſketch of the opinions of a celebrated individual, but of many of the literary men in France, at the begin⯑ning of the revolution. As ſuch, though merely a ſketch, it ſeems worthy of at⯑tention.

CHAP. X.

IN reading Mr. Godwin's ingenious and able work on political juſtice, it is im⯑poſsible not to be ſtruck with the ſpi⯑rit and energy of his ſtyle, the force and preciſion of ſome of his reaſonings, the ardent tone of his thoughts, and par⯑ticularly with that impreſsive earneſt⯑neſs of manner which gives an air of truth to the whole. At the ſame time, it muſt be confeſſed, that he has not proceeded in his enquiries with the caution that ſound philoſophy ſeems to require. His concluſions are often un⯑warranted [174] by his premiſes. He fails ſometimes in removing the objections which he himſelf brings forward. He relies too much on general and abſtract propoſitions which will not admit of ap⯑plication. And his conjectures certainly far outſtrip the modeſty of nature.

The ſyſtem of equality which Mr. Godwin propoſes, is, without doubt, by far the moſt beautiful and engaging of any that has yet appeared. An amelio⯑ration of ſociety to be produced merely by reaſon and conviction, wears much more the promiſe of permanence, than any change effected and maintained by force. The unlimited exerciſe of private judgment, is a doctrine inexpreſsibly grand and captivating, and has a vaſt ſuperiority over thoſe ſyſtems where every individual is in a manner the ſlave of the public. The ſubſtitution of bene⯑volence [175] as the maſter-ſpring, and mov⯑ing principle of ſociety, inſtead of ſelf⯑love, is a conſummation devoutly to be wiſhed. In ſhort, it is impoſsible to contemplate the whole of this fair ſtructure, without emotions of delight and admiration, accompanied with ardent longing for the period of its accompliſh⯑ment. But, alas! that moment can never arrive. The whole is little better than a dream, a beautiful phantom of the imagination. Theſe ‘gorgeous pa⯑laces’ of happineſs and immortality, theſe ‘ſolemn temples’ of truth and vir⯑tue will diſſolve, ‘like the baſeleſs fa⯑bric of a viſion,’ when we awaken to real life, and contemplate the true and genuine ſituation of man on earth.

Mr. Godwin, at the concluſion of the third chapter of his eighth book, ſpeak⯑ing of population, ſays, ‘There is a [176] principle in human ſociety, by which population is perpetually kept down to the level of the means of ſubſiſtence. Thus among the wandering tribes of America and Aſia, we never find through the lapſe of ages that population has ſo increaſed as to render neceſſary the cultivation of the earth’ This principle, which Mr. Godwin thus mentions as ſome myſterious and occult cauſe, and which he does not attempt to inveſtigate, will be found to be the grinding law of neceſsity; miſery, and the fear of miſery.

The great error under which Mr. Godwin labours throughout his whole work, is, the attributing almoſt all the vices and miſery that are ſeen in civil ſociety to human inſtitutions. Political regulations, and the eſtabliſhed admi⯑niſtration of property, are with him [177] the fruitful ſources of all evil, the hot⯑beds of all the crimes that degrade man⯑kind. Were this really a true ſtate of the caſe, it would not ſeem a hopeleſs taſk to remove evil completely from the world; and reaſon ſeems to be the proper and adequate inſtrument for ef⯑fecting ſo great a purpoſe. But the truth is, that though human inſtitutions appear to be the obvious and obtruſive cauſes of much miſchief to mankind; yet, in reality, they are light and ſu⯑perficial, they are mere feathers that float on the ſurface, in compariſon with thoſe deeper ſeated cauſes of impurity that corrupt the ſprings, and render turbid the whole ſtream of human life.

Mr. Godwin, in his chapter on the benefits attendant on a ſyſtem of equa⯑lity, ſays, ‘The ſpirit of oppreſsion, the ſpirit of ſervility, and the ſpirit of [178] fraud, theſe are the immediate growth of the eſtabliſhed adminiſtration of pro⯑perty. They are alike hoſtile to in⯑tellectual improvement. The other vices of envy, malice, and revenge, are their inſeparable companions. In a ſtate of ſociety, where men lived in the midſt of plenty, and where all ſhared alike the bounties of nature, theſe ſentiments would inevitably expire. The narrow principle of ſelfiſhneſs would vaniſh. No man being obliged to guard his little ſtore, or provide with anxiety and pain for his reſtleſs wants, each would loſe his individual exiſtence in the thought of the general good. No man would be an enemy to his neighbour, for they would have no ſubject of contention; and, of conſequence, philanthropy would reſume the empire which reaſon aſsigns her. Mind would be delivered from her perpetual anxiety about corporal [179] ſupport, and free to expatiate in the field of thought, which is congenial to her. Each would aſsiſt the enquiries of all.’

This would, indeed, be a happy ſtate. But that it is merely an imaginary picture, with ſcarcely a feature near the truth, the reader, I am afraid, is al⯑ready too well convinced.

Man cannot live in the midſt of plenty. All cannot ſhare alike the bounties of nature. Were there no eſta⯑bliſhed adminiſtration of property, every man would be obliged to guard with force his little ſtore. Selfiſhneſs would be triumphant. The ſubjects of conten⯑tion would be perpetual. Every indivi⯑dual mind would be under a conſtant anxiety about corporal ſupport; and not [180] a ſingle intellect would be left free to expatiate in the field of thought.

How little Mr. Godwin has turned the attention of his penetrating mind to the real ſtate of man on earth, will ſufficiently appear from the manner in which he endeavours to remove the difficulty of an overcharged population. He ſays, ‘The obvious anſwer to this objection, is, that to reaſon thus is to foreſee difficulties at a great diſtance. Three fourths of the habitable globe is now uncultivated. The parts already cultivated are capable of immeaſureable improvement. Myriads of centuries of ſtill increaſing population may paſs away, and the earth be ſtill found ſufficient for the ſubſiſtence of its inhabitants.’

I have already pointed out the error of ſuppoſing that no diſtreſs and diffi⯑culty [181] would ariſe from an overcharged population before the earth abſolutely refuſed to produce any more. But let us imagine for a moment Mr. God⯑win's beautiful ſyſtem of equality realized in its utmoſt purity, and ſee how ſoon this difficulty might be expected to preſs under ſo perfect a form of ſociety. A theory that will not admit of ap⯑plication cannot poſsibly be juſt.

Let us ſuppoſe all the cauſes of mi⯑ſery and vice in this iſland removed. War and contention ceaſe. Unwhole⯑ſome trades and manufactories do not exiſt. Crowds no longer collect toge⯑ther in great and peſtilent cities for purpoſes of court intrigue, of commerce, and vicious gratifications. Simple, healthy, and rational amuſements take place of drinking, gaming and debauchery. There are no towns ſufficiently large to have [182] any prejudicial effects on the human conſtitution. The greater part of the happy inhabitants of this terreſtrial pa⯑radiſe live in hamlets and farm-houſes ſcattered over the face of the country. Every houſe is clean, airy, ſufficiently roomy, and in a healthy ſituation. All men are equal. The labours of luxury are at end. And the neceſſary labours of agriculture are ſhared amica⯑bly among all. The number of perſons, and the produce of the iſland, we ſup⯑poſe to be the ſame as at preſent. The ſpirit of benevolence, guided by impar⯑tial juſtice, will divide this produce among all the members of the ſociety according to their wants. Though it would be impoſsible that they ſhould all have animal food every day, yet vegetable food, with meat occaſionally, would ſatisfy the deſires of a frugal people, and would be ſufficient to pre⯑ſerve [183] them in health, ſtrength, and ſpirits.

Mr. Godwin conſiders marriage as a fraud and a monopoly. Let us ſuppoſe the commerce of the ſexes eſtabliſhed upon principles of the moſt perfect freedom. Mr. Godwin does not think himſelf that this freedom would lead to a promiſcuous intercourſe; and in this I perfectly agree with him. The love of variety is a vi⯑cious, corrupt, and unnatural taſte, and could not prevail in any great degree in a ſimple and virtuous ſtate of ſociety. Each man would probably ſelect himſelf a partner, to whom he would adhere as long as that adherence continued to be the choice of both parties. It would be of little conſequence, according to Mr. Godwin, how many children a woman had, or to whom they belonged. Provi⯑ſions and aſsiſtance would ſpontaneouſly [184] flow from the quarter in which they abounded, to the quarter that was de⯑ficient ^*. And every man would be ready to furniſh inſtruction to the riſing genera⯑tion according to his capacity.

I cannot conceive a form of ſociety ſo favourable upon the whole to popu⯑lation. The irremediableneſs of marri⯑age, as it is at preſent conſtituted, un⯑doubtedly deters many from entering into that ſtate. An unſhackled inter⯑courſe on the contrary, would be a moſt powerful incitement to early attachments: and as we are ſuppoſing no anxiety about the future ſupport of children to exiſt, I do not conceive that there would be one woman in a hundred, of twenty three, without a family.

[185] With theſe extraordinary encourage⯑ments to population, and every cauſe of depopulation, as we have ſuppoſed, re⯑moved, the numbers would neceſſarily increaſe faſter than in any ſociety that has ever yet been known. I have men⯑tioned, on the authority of a pamphlet publiſhed by a Dr. Styles, and referred to by Dr. Price, that the inhabitants of the back ſettlements of America doubled their numbers in fifteen years. England is certainly a more healthy country than the back ſettlements of America; and as we have ſuppoſed every houſe in the iſland to be airy and wholeſome, and the encou⯑ragements to have a family greater even than with the back ſettlers, no probable reaſon can be aſsigned, why the population ſhould not double itſelf in leſs, if poſsi⯑ble, than fifteen years. But to be quite ſure that we do not go beyond the truth, we will only ſuppoſe the period of doub⯑ling [186] to be twenty-five years, a ratio of in⯑creaſe, which is well known to have taken place throughout all the Northern States of America.

There can be little doubt, that the equalization of property which we have ſuppoſed, added to the circumſtance of the labour of the whole community be⯑ing directed chiefly to agriculture, would tend greatly to augment the produce of the country. But to anſwer the demands of a population increaſing ſo rapidly, Mr. Godwin's calculation of half an hour a day for each man, would cer⯑tainly not be ſufficient. It is probable that the half of every man's time muſt be employed for this purpoſe. Yet with ſuch, or much greater exertions, a per⯑ſon who is acquainted with the nature of the ſoil in this country, and who reflects on the fertility of the lands already in [187] cultivation, and the barreneſs of thoſe that are not cultivated, will be very much diſpoſed to doubt, whether the whole average produce could poſsibly be doubled in twenty-five years from the preſent period. The only chance of ſucceſs would be the ploughing up all the grazing countries, and putting an end almoſt entirely to the uſe of animal food. Yet a part of this ſcheme might defeat itſelf. The ſoil of England will not produce much without dreſsing; and cattle ſeem to be neceſ⯑ſary to make that ſpecies of manure, which beſt ſuits the land. In China, it is ſaid, that the ſoil in ſome of the provinces is ſo fertile, as to produce two crops of rice in the year without dreſsing. None of the lands in England will anſwer to this deſcription.

Difficult, however, as it might be, to double the average produce of the iſland in [188] twenty-five years, let us ſuppoſe it effected. At the expiration of the firſt period there⯑fore, the food, though almoſt entirely ve⯑getable, would be ſufficient to ſupport in health, the doubled population of four⯑teen millions.

During the next period of doubling, where will the food be found to ſatisfy the importunate demands of the increaſing numbers. Where is the freſh land to turn up? where is the dreſsing neceſ⯑ſary to improve that which is already in cultivation? There is no perſon with the ſmalleſt knowledge of land, but would ſay, that it was impoſsible that the average produce of the country could be increaſed during the ſecond twenty-five years by a quantity equal to what it at preſent yields. Yet we will ſuppoſe this increaſe, however im⯑probable, to take place. The exuberant [189] ſtrength of the argument allows of almoſt any conceſsion. Even with this conceſ⯑ſion, however, there would be ſeven mil⯑lions at the expiration of the ſecond term, unprovided for. A quantity of food equal to the frugal ſupport of twenty-one mil⯑lions, would be to be divided among twenty-eight millions.

Alas! what becomes of the picture where men lived in the midſt of plenty: where no man was obliged to provide with anxiety and pain for his reſtleſs wants: where the narrow principle of ſelfiſhneſs did not exiſt: where Mind was delivered from her perpetual anxiety about corporal ſupport, and free to expa⯑tiate in the field of thought which is congenial to her. This beautiful fabric of imagination vaniſhes at the ſevere touch of truth. The ſpirit of benevolence, cheriſhed and invigorated by plenty, is [190] repreſſed by the chilling breath of want. The hateful paſsions that had vaniſhed, reappear. The mighty law of ſelf-pre⯑ſervation, expels all the ſofter and more exalted emotions of the ſoul. The temp⯑tations to evil are too ſtrong for hu⯑man nature to reſiſt. The corn is plucked before it is ripe, or ſecreted in unfair pro⯑portions; and the whole black train of vices that belong to falſehood are imme⯑diately generated. Proviſions no longer flow in for the ſupport of the mother with a large family. The children are ſickly from inſufficient food. The roſy fluſh of health gives place to the pallid cheek and hollow eye of miſery. Benevolence yet lingering in a few boſoms, makes ſome [...]aint expiring ſtruggles, till at length ſelf-love reſumes his wonted empire, and lords it triumphant over the world.

[191] No human inſtitutions here exiſted, to the perverſeneſs of which Mr. God⯑win aſcribes the original ſin of the worſt men ^*. No oppoſition had been produced by them between public and private good. No monopoly had been created of thoſe advantages which reaſon directs to be left in common. No man had been goaded to the breach of order by unjuſt laws. Benevolence had eſtabliſhed her reign in all hearts: and yet in ſo ſhort a period as within fifty years, violence, op⯑preſsion, falſehood, miſery, every hate⯑ful vice, and every form of diſtreſs, which degrade and ſadden the preſent ſtate of ſociety, ſeem to have been generated by the moſt imperious circumſtances, by laws inherent in the nature of man, and abſolutely independent of all human regulations.

[192] If we are not yet too well convinced of the reality of this melancholy pic⯑ture, let us but look for a moment into the next period of twenty-five years; and we ſhall ſee twenty-eight millions of human beings without the means of ſupport; and before the concluſion of the firſt century, the population would be one hundred and twelve millions, and the food only ſufficient for thirty-five millions, leaving ſeventy-ſeven millions unprovided for. In theſe ages want would be indeed triumphant, and rapine and murder muſt reign at large: and yet all this time we are ſuppoſing the produce of the earth abſolutely unli⯑mited, and the yearly increaſe greater than the boldeſt ſpeculator can ima⯑gine.

This is undoubtedly a very different view of the difficulty ariſing from po⯑pulation, [193] from that which Mr. Godwin gives, when he ſays, ‘Myriads of cen⯑turies of ſtill increaſing population may paſs away, and the earth be ſtill found ſufficient for the ſubſiſtence of its in⯑habitants.’

I am ſufficiently aware that the re⯑dundant twenty-eight millions, or ſe⯑venty-ſeven millions, that I have men⯑tioned, could never have exiſted. It is a perfectly juſt obſervation of Mr. God⯑win, that, ‘There is a principle in hu⯑man ſociety, by which population is per⯑petually kept down to the level of the means of ſubſiſtence.’ The ſole queſ⯑tion is, what is this principle? Is it ſome obſcure and occult cauſe? Is it ſome myſterious interference of heaven, which at a certain period, ſtrikes the men with impotence, and the women with barrenneſs? Or is it a cauſe, open to [194] our reſearches, within our view, a cauſe, which has conſtantly been obſerved to operate, though with varied force, in every ſtate in which man has been placed? Is it not a degree of miſery, the neceſſary and inevitable reſult of the laws of na⯑ture, which human inſtitutions, ſo far from aggravating, have tended conſider⯑ably to mitigate, though they never can remove.

It may be curious to obſerve, in the caſe that we have been ſuppoſing, how ſome of the laws which at preſent govern civilized ſociety, would be ſucceſsively dictated by the moſt imperious neceſsity. As man, according to Mr. Godwin, is the creature of the impreſsions to which he is ſubject, the goadings of want could not continue long, before ſome violations of public or private ſtock would neceſ⯑ſarily take place. As theſe violations [195] increaſed in number and extent, the more active and comprehenſive intellects of the ſociety would ſoon perceive, that while population was faſt increaſing, the yearly produce of the country would ſhortly begin to diminiſh. The urgency of the caſe would ſuggeſt the neceſsity of ſome immediate meaſures to be taken for the general ſafety. Some kind of convention would then be called, and the dangerous ſituation of the country ſtated in the ſtrongeſt terms. It would be obſerved, that while they lived in the midſt of plenty, it was of little conſequence who laboured the leaſt, or who poſſeſſed the leaſt, as every man was perfectly willing and ready to ſup⯑ply the wants of his neighbour. But that the queſtion was no longer, whe⯑ther one man ſhould give to another, that which he did not uſe himſelf; but whether he ſhould give to his neigh⯑bour [196] the food which was abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary to his own exiſtence. It would be repreſented, that the number of thoſe that were in want very greatly exceeded the number and means of thoſe who ſhould ſupply them: that theſe preſsing wants, which from the ſtate of the produce of the country could not all be gratified, had occaſioned ſome flagrant violations of juſtice: that theſe violations had already checked the increaſe of food, and would, if they were not by ſome means or other prevented, throw the whole community in confuſion: that imperious neceſsity ſeemed to dictate that a yearly increaſe of produce ſhould, if poſsible, be ob⯑tained at all events: that in order to effect this firſt, great, and indiſpenſible purpoſe, it would be adviſeable to make a more complete diviſion of land, and to ſecure every man's ſtock againſt vio⯑lation [197] by the moſt powerful ſanctions, even by death itſelf.

It might be urged perhaps by ſome objectors, that, as the fertility of the land increaſed, and various accidents occurred, the ſhare of ſome men might be much more than ſufficient for their ſupport, and that when the reign of ſelf-love was once eſtabliſhed, they would not diſtribute their ſurplus produce without ſome com⯑penſation in return. It would be ob⯑ſerved, in anſwer, that this was an in⯑convenience greatly to be lamented; but that it was an evil which bore no com⯑pariſon to the black train of diſtreſſes, that would inevitably be occaſioned by the inſecurity of property: that the quantity of food which one man could conſume, was neceſſarily limited by the narrow capacity of the human ſtomach: that it was not certainly probable that he [198] ſhould throw away the reſt; but that even if he exchanged his ſurplus food for the labour of others, and made them in ſome degree dependent on him, this would ſtill be better than that theſe others ſhould abſolutely ſtarve.

It ſeems highly probable, therefore, that an adminiſtration of property, not very different from that which prevails in civilized States at preſent, would be eſta⯑bliſhed, as the beſt, though inadequate, remedy, for the evils which were preſsing on the ſociety.

The next ſubject that would come under diſcuſsion, intimately connected with the preceding, is, the commerce between the ſexes. It would be urged by thoſe who had turned their attention to the true cauſe of the difficulties under which the community laboured, that [199] while every man felt ſecure that all his children would be well provided for by general benevolence, the powers of the earth would be abſolutely inadequate to produce food for the population which would inevitably enſue: that even, if the whole attention and labour of the ſociety were directed to this ſole point, and if, by the moſt perfect ſecurity of property, and every other encourage⯑ment that could be thought of, the greateſt poſsible increaſe of produce were yearly obtained; yet ſtill, that the in⯑creaſe of food would by no means keep pace with the much more rapid increaſe of population: that ſome check to popu⯑lation therefore was imperiouſly called for: that the moſt natural and obvious check ſeemed to be, to make every man provide for his own children: that this would operate in ſome reſpect, as a mea⯑ſure and guide, in the increaſe of popu⯑lation; [200] as it might be expected that no man would bring beings into the world, for whom he could not find the means of ſupport: that where this notwithſtand⯑ing was the caſe, it ſeemed neceſſary, for the example of others, that the diſgrace and inconvenience attending ſuch a conduct, ſhould fall upon that individual, who had thus inconſiderately plunged him⯑ſelf and innocent children in miſery and want.

The inſtitution of marriage, or at leaſt, of ſome expreſs or implied obligation on every man to ſupport his own children, ſeems to be the natural reſult of theſe reaſonings in a community under the dif⯑ficulties that we have ſuppoſed.

The view of theſe difficulties, preſents us with a very natural origin of the ſuperior diſgrace which attends a breach [201] of chaſtity in the woman, than in the man. It could not be expected that women ſhould have reſources ſufficient to ſupport their own children. When therefore a woman was connected with a man, who had entered into no compact to maintain her children; and aware of the inconveniences that he might bring upon himſelf, had deſerted her, theſe children muſt neceſſarily fall for ſupport upon the ſociety, or ſtarve. And to pre⯑vent the frequent recurrence of ſuch an inconvenience, as it would be highly unjuſt to puniſh ſo natural a fault by perſonal reſtraint or infliction, the men might agree to puniſh it with diſgrace. The offence is beſides more obvious and conſpicuous in the woman, and leſs lia⯑ble to any miſtake. The father of a child may not always be known, but the ſame uncertainty cannot eaſily exiſt with regard to the mother. Where, the evi⯑dence [202] of the offence was moſt complete, and the inconvenience to the ſociety at the ſame time the greateſt, there, it was agreed, that the largeſt ſhare of blame ſhould fall. The obligation on every man to maintain his children, the ſociety would enforce, if there were occaſion; and the greater degree of inconvenience or labour, to which a family would neceſſa⯑rily ſubject him, added to ſome portion of diſgrace which every human being muſt incur, who leads another into un⯑happineſs, might be conſidered as a ſuf⯑ficient puniſhment for the man.

That a woman ſhould at preſent be almoſt driven from ſociety, for an offence, which men commit nearly with impu⯑nity, ſeems to be undoubtedly a breach of natural juſtice. But the origin of the cuſtom, as the moſt obvious and effec⯑tual method of preventing the frequent [203] recurrence of a ſerious inconvenience to a community, appears to be natural, though not perhaps perfectly juſtiſiable. This origin, however, is now loſt in the new train of ideas which the cuſtom has ſince generated. What at firſt might be dictated by ſtate neceſsity, is now ſup⯑ported by female delicacy; and operates with the greateſt force on that part of ſociety, where, if the original intention of the cuſtom were preſerved, there is the leaſt real occaſion for it.

When theſe two fundamental laws of ſociety, the ſecurity of property, and the inſtitution of marriage, were once eſta⯑bliſhed, inequality of conditions muſt neceſſarily follow. Thoſe who were born after the diviſion of property, would come into a world already poſſeſſed. If their parents, from having too large a family, could not give them ſufficient for [204] their ſupport, what are they to do in a world where every thing is appropriated? We have ſeen the fatal effects that would reſult to a ſociety, if every man had a valid claim to an equal ſhare of the pro⯑duce of the earth. The members of a family which was grown too large for the original diviſion of land appropriated to it, could not then demand a part of the ſurplus produce of others, as a debt of juſtice. It has appeared, that from the inevitable laws of our nature, ſome human beings muſt ſuffer from want. Theſe are the unhappy perſons who, in the great lottery of life, have drawn a blank. The number of theſe claimants would ſoon exceed the ability of the ſur⯑plus produce to ſupply. Moral merit is a very difficult diſtinguiſhing criterion, except in extreme caſes. The owners of ſurplus produce would in general ſeek ſome more obvious mark of diſtinction. [205] And it ſeems both natural and juſt, that except upon particular occaſions, their choice ſhould fall upon thoſe, who were able, and profeſſed themſelves willing, to exert their ſtrength in procuring a further ſurplus produce; and thus at once benefiting the community, and enabling theſe proprietors to afford aſsiſtance to greater numbers. All who were in want of food would be urged by imperious neceſsity to offer their labour in exchange for this article ſo abſolutely eſſential to exiſtence. The fund appropriated to the maintenance of labour, would be, the aggregate quantity of food poſſeſſed by the owners of land beyond their own conſumption. When the demands upon this fund were great and numerous, it would naturally be divided in very ſmall ſhares. Labour would be ill paid. Men would offer to work for a bare ſubſiſtence, and the rearing of families would be [206] checked by ſickneſs and miſery. On the contrary, when this fund was increaſing faſt; when it was great in proportion to the number of claimants; it would be divided in much larger ſhares. No man would exchange his labour without re⯑ceiving an ample quantity of food in return. Labourers would live in caſe and comfort; and would conſequently be able to rear a numerous and vigorous off⯑ſpring.

On the ſtate of this fund, the happi⯑neſs, or the degree of miſery, prevailing among the lower claſſes of people in every known State, at preſent chiefly depends. And on this happineſs, or degree of miſery, depends the increaſe, ſtationarineſs, or decreaſe of population.

And thus it appears, that a ſociety con⯑ſtituted according to the moſt beautiful [207] form that imagination can conceive, with benevolence for its moving principle, in⯑ſtead of ſelf-love, and with every evil diſpoſition in all its members corrected by reaſon and not force, would, from the inevitable laws of nature, and not from any original depravity of man, in a very ſhort period, degenerate into a ſociety, conſtructed upon a plan not eſſen⯑tially different from that which prevails in every known State at preſent; I mean, a ſociety divided into a claſs of pro⯑prietors, and a claſs of labourers, and with ſelf-love for the main-ſpring of the great machine.

In the ſuppoſition I have made, I have undoubtedly taken the increaſe of population ſmaller, and the increaſe of produce greater, than they really would be. No reaſon can be aſsigned, why, under the circumſtances I have ſuppoſed, [208] population ſhould not increaſe faſter than in any known inſtance. If then we were to take the period of doubling at fifteen years, inſtead of twenty-five years; and reflect upon the labour neceſſary to double the produce in ſo ſhort a time, even if we allow it poſsible; we may venture to pronounce with certainty, that if Mr. Godwin's ſyſtem of ſociety was eſtabliſhed in its utmoſt perfection, inſtead of myriads of centuries, not thirty years could elapſe, before its utter de⯑ſtruction from the ſimple principle of population.

I have taken no notice of emigration for obvious reaſons. If ſuch ſocieties were inſtituted in other parts of Europe, theſe countries would be under the ſame difficulties with regard to population, and could admit no freſh members into their boſoms. If this beautiful ſociety were [209] confined to this iſland, it muſt have de⯑generated ſtrangely from its original pu⯑rity, and adminiſter but a very ſmall portion of the happineſs it propoſed; in ſhort, its eſſential principle muſt be completely deſtroyed, before any of its members would voluntarily conſent to leave it, and live under ſuch govern⯑ments as at preſent exiſt in Europe, or ſubmit to the extreme hardſhips of firſt ſettlers in new regions. We well know, from repeated experience, how much miſery and hardſhip men will undergo in their own country, before they can determine to deſert it; and how often the moſt tempting propoſals of embarking for new ſettlements have been rejected by people who appeared to be almoſt ſtarving.

CHAP. XI.

WE have ſuppoſed Mr. Godwin's ſyſ⯑tem of ſociety once completely eſta⯑bliſhed. But it is ſuppoſing an impoſ⯑ſibility. The ſame cauſes in nature which would deſtroy it ſo rapidly, were it once eſtabliſhed, would prevent the poſsibility of its eſtabliſhment. And upon what grounds we can preſume a change in theſe natural cauſes, I am utterly at a loſs to conjecture. No move towards the extinction of the paſsion between the ſexes has taken place in the five or ſix thouſand years that the world has exiſted. Men in the decline of life have, in all ages, declaimed againſt a paſsion which [211] they have ceaſed to feel, but with as little reaſon as ſucceſs. Thoſe who from cold⯑neſs of conſtitutional temperament have never felt what love is, will ſurely be allowed to be very incompetent judges, with regard to the power of this paſsion, to contribute to the ſum of pleaſurable ſenſations in life. Thoſe who have ſpent their youth in criminal exceſſes, and have prepared for themſelves, as the com⯑forts of their age, corporal debility, and mental remorſe, may well inveigh againſt ſuch pleaſures as vain and ſutile, and unproductive of laſting ſatisfaction. But the pleaſures of pure love will bear the contemplation of the moſt improved rea⯑ſon, and the moſt exalted virtue. Per⯑haps there is ſcarcely a man who has once experienced the genuine delight of virtuous love, however great his intellec⯑tual pleaſures may have been, that does not look back to the period, as the ſunny [212] ſpot in his whole life, where his imagina⯑tion loves to baſk, which he recollects and contemplates with the fondeſt re⯑grets, and which he would moſt wiſh to live over again. The ſuperiority of in⯑tellectual, to ſenſual pleaſures, conſiſts rather, in their filling up more time, in their having a larger range, and in their being leſs liable to ſatiety, than in their being more real and eſſential.

Intemperance in every enjoyment de⯑feats its own purpoſe. A walk in the fineſt day, through the moſt beautiful country, if purſued too far, ends in pain and fatigue. The moſt wholeſome and invigorating food, eaten with an unre⯑ſtrained appetite, produces weakneſs, in⯑ſtead of ſtrength. Even intellectual plea⯑ſures, though certainly leſs liable than others to ſatiety, purſued with too little intermiſsion, debilitate the body, and [213] impair the vigour of the mind. To argue againſt the reality of theſe pleaſures from their abuſe, ſeems to be hardly juſt. Morality, according to Mr. Godwin, is a calculation of conſequences, or, as Archdeacon Paley very juſtly expreſſes it, the will of God, as collected from general expediency. According to either of theſe definitions, a ſenſual pleaſure, not at⯑tended with the probability of unhappy conſequences, does not offend againſt the laws of morality: and if it be purſued with ſuch a degree of temperance, as to leave the moſt ample room for intellec⯑tual attainments, it muſt undoubtedly add to the ſum of pleaſurable ſenſations in life. Virtuous love, exalted by friend⯑ſhip, ſeems to be that ſort of mixture of ſenſual and intellectual enjoyment par⯑ticularly ſuited to the nature of man, and moſt powerfully calculated to awaken [214] the ſympathies of the ſoul, and produce the moſt exquiſite gratifications.

Mr. Godwin ſays, in order to ſhew the evident inferiority of the pleaſures of ſenſe, ‘Strip the commerce of the ſexes of all its attendant circumſtances ^*, and it would be generally deſpiſed.’ He might as well ſay to a man who admired trees; ſtrip them of their ſpreading branches and lovely foliage, and what beauty can you ſee in a bare pole? But it was the tree with the branches and foliage, and not without them, that ex⯑cited admiration. One feature of an ob⯑ject, may be as diſtinct, and excite as different emotions, from the aggregate, as any two things the moſt remote, as a beautiful woman, and a map of Mada⯑gaſcar. It is ‘the ſymmetry of perſon, [215] the vivacity, the voluptuous ſoftneſs of temper, the affectionate kindneſs of feel⯑ings, the imagination and the wit’ of a woman that excite the paſsion of love, and not the mere diſtinction of her being a female. Urged by the paſsion of love, men have been driven into acts highly prejudicial to the general intereſts of ſo⯑ciety; but probably they would have ſound no difficulty in reſiſting the temp⯑tation, had it appeared in the form of a woman, with no other attractions what⯑ever but her ſex. To ſtrip ſenſual plea⯑ſures of all their adjuncts, in order to prove their inferiority, is to deprive a magnet of ſome of its moſt eſſential cauſes of attraction, and then to ſay that it is weak and inefficient.

In the purſuit of every enjoyment, whether ſenſual or intellectual, Reaſon, that faculty which enables us to calculate [216] conſequences, is the proper corrective and guide. It is probable therefore that improved reaſon will always tend to pre⯑vent the abuſe of ſenſual pleaſures, though it by no means follows that it will extinguiſh them.

I have endeavoured to expoſe the fal⯑lacy of that argument which infers an unlimited progreſs from a partial im⯑provement, the limits of which cannot be exactly aſcertained. It has appeared, I think, that there are many inſtances in which a decided progreſs has been ob⯑ſerved, where yet it would be a groſs abſurdity to ſuppoſe that progreſs inde⯑finite. But towards the extinction of the paſsion between the ſexes, no obſervable progreſs whatever has hitherto been made. To ſuppoſe ſuch an extinction, therefore, is merely to offer an unfounded conjec⯑ture, [217] unſupported by any philoſophical probabilities.

It is a truth, which hiſtory I am afraid makes too clear, that ſome men of the higheſt mental powers, have been ad⯑dicted not only to a moderate, but even to an immoderate indulgence in the plea⯑ſures of ſenſual love. But allowing, as I ſhould be inclined to do, notwithſtanding numerous inſtances to the contrary, that great intellectual exertions tend to diminiſh the empire of this paſsion over man; it is evident that the maſs of mankind muſt be improved more highly than the brighteſt ornaments of the ſpecies at preſent, before any difference can take place ſufficient ſenſibly to affect popula⯑tion. I would by no means ſuppoſe that the maſs of mankind has reached its term of improvement; but the principal ar⯑gument of this eſſay tends to place in a [218] ſtrong point of view, the improbability, that the lower claſſes of people in any country, ſhould ever be ſufficiently free from want and labour, to attain any high degree of intellectual improvement.

CHAP. XII.

MR. Godwin's conjectnre reſpecting the future approach of man towards immor⯑tality on earth, ſeems to be rather oddly placed in a chapter, which profeſſes to remove the objection to his ſyſtem of equality from the principle of popula⯑tion. Unleſs he ſuppoſes the paſsion be⯑tween the ſexes to decreaſe faſter, than the duration of life increaſes, the earth would be more encumbered than ever. But leaving this difficulty to Mr. God⯑win, [220] let us examine a few of the ap⯑pearances from which the probable im⯑mortality of man is inferred.

To prove the power of the mind over the body, Mr. Godwin obſerves, ‘How often do we find a piece of good news diſsipating a diſtemper? How common is the remark that thoſe accidents which are to the indolent a ſource of diſeaſe, are forgotten and extirpated in the buſy and active? I walk twenty miles in an indolent and half determined temper, and am extremely fatigued. I walk twenty miles full of ardour, and with a motive that engroſſes my ſoul, and I come in as freſh and as alert as when I began my journey. Emotions excited by ſome unexpected word, by a letter that is delivered to us, occaſions the moſt extraordinary revolutions in our frame, accelerates the circulation, cauſes [221] the heart to palpitate, the tongue to refuſe its office, and has been known to occaſion death by extreme anguiſh or extreme joy. There is nothing in⯑deed of which the phyſician is more aware than of the power of the mind in aſsiſting or retarding convaleſcence.’

The inſtances here mentioned, are chiefly inſtances of the effects of men⯑tal ſtimulants on the bodily frame. No perſon has ever for a moment doubted the near, though myſterious connection, of mind and body. But it is arguing totally without knowledge of the na⯑ture of ſtimulants to ſuppoſe, either that they can be applied continually with equal ſtrength, or if they could be ſo applied, for a time, that they would not exhauſt and wear out the ſubject. In ſome of the caſes here noticed, the ſtrength of the ſtimulus depends upon [222] its novelty and unexpectedneſs. Such a ſtimulus cannot, from its nature, be re⯑peated often with the ſame effect, as it would by repetition loſe that pro⯑perty which gives it its ſtrength.

In the other caſes, the argument is from a ſmall and partial effect, to a great and general effect, which will in numberleſs inſtances be found to be a very fallacious mode of reaſoning. The buſy and active man may in ſome de⯑gree counteract, or what is perhaps nearer the truth, may diſregard thoſe ſlight diſ⯑orders of frame, which fix the attention of a man who has nothing elſe to think of; but this does not tend to prove that activity of mind will enable a man to diſregard a high fever, the ſmall⯑pox, or the plague.

[223] The man who walks twenty miles with a motive that engroſſes his ſoul, does not attend to his ſlight fatigue of body when he comes in; but double his mo⯑tive, and ſet him to walk another twenty miles, quadruple it, and let him ſtart a third time, and ſo on; and the length of his walk will ultimately depend upon muſcle and not mind. Powel, for a mo⯑tive of ten guineas, would have walked further probably than Mr. Godwin, for a motive of half a million. A motive of uncommon power acting upon a frame of moderate ſtrength, would, perhaps, make the man kill himſelf by his exer⯑tions, but it would not make him walk an hundred miles in twenty-four hours. This ſtatement of the caſe, ſhews the fallacy of ſuppoſing, that the perſon was really not at all tired in his firſt walk of twenty miles, becauſe he did not appear to be ſo, or, perhaps, ſcarcely [224] felt any fatigue himſelf. The mind can⯑not fix its attention ſtrongly on more than one object at once. The twenty thouſand pounds ſo engroſſed his thoughts, that he did not attend to any ſlight ſore⯑neſs of foot, or ſtiffneſs of limb. But had he been really as freſh and as alert, as when he firſt ſet off, he would be able to go the ſecond twenty miles with as much eaſe as the firſt, and ſo on, the third, &c. which leads to a palpable abſurdity. When a horſe of ſpirit is nearly half tired, by the ſtimulus of the ſpur, added to the proper manage⯑ment of the bit, he may be put ſo much upon his mettle, that he would appear to a ſtander-by, as freſh and as high ſpirited, as if he had not gone a mile. Nay, probably, the horſe himſelf, while in the heat and paſsion occaſioned by this ſtimulus, would not feel any fatigue; but it would be ſtrangely con⯑trary [225] to all reaſon and experience, to argue from ſuch an appearance, that if the ſtimulus were continued, the horſe would never be tired. The cry of a pack of hounds will make ſome horſes, after a journey of forty miles on the road, appear as freſh, and as lively, as when they firſt ſet out. Were they then to be hunted, no perceptible abatement would at firſt be felt by their riders in their ſtrength and ſpirits, but to⯑wards the end of a hard day, the pre⯑vious fatigue would have its full weight and effect, and make them tire ſooner. When I have taken a long walk with my gun, and met with no ſucceſs, I have frequently returned home feeling a conſiderable degree of uncomfortableneſs from fatigue. Another day, perhaps, going over nearly the ſame extent of ground with a good deal of ſport, I have come home freſh, and alert. The [226] difference in the ſenſation of fatigue upon coming in, on the different days, may have been very ſtriking, but on the following mornings I have found no ſuch difference. I have not perceived that I was leſs ſtiff in my limbs, or leſs foot⯑ſore, on the morning after the day of ſport, than on the other morning.

In all theſe caſes, ſtimulants upon the mind ſeem to act rather by taking off the attention from the bodily fatigue, than by really and truly counteracting it. If the energy of my mind had really counteracted the fatigue of my body, why ſhould I feel tired the next morn⯑ing? If the ſtimulus of the hounds had as completely overcome the fatigue of the journey in reality, as it did in ap⯑pearance, why ſhould the horſe be tired ſooner than if he had not gone the forty miles? I happen to have a very bad fit [227] of the tooth-ache at the time I am wri⯑ting this. In the eagerneſs of compo⯑ſition, I every now and then, for a mo⯑ment or two, forget it. Yet I cannot help thinking that the proceſs which cauſes the pain, is ſtill going forwards, and that the nerves, which carry the in⯑formation of it to the brain, are even during theſe moments demanding atten⯑tion, and room for their appropriate vi⯑brations. The multiplicity of vibrations of another kind, may perhaps prevent their admiſsion, or overcome them for a time when admitted, till a ſhoot of ex⯑traordinary energy puts all other vibra⯑tions to the rout, deſtroys the vividneſs of my argumentative conceptions, and rides triumphant in the brain. In this caſe, as in the others, the mind ſeems to have little or no power in counter⯑acting, or curing the diſorder, but merely [228] poſſeſſes a power, if ſtrongly excited, of fixing its attention on other ſubjects.

I do not, however, mean to ſay, that a ſound and vigorous mind has no ten⯑dency whatever to keep the body in a ſimilar ſtate. So cloſe and intimate is the union of mind and body, that it would be highly extraordinary, if they did not mutually aſsiſt each others func⯑tions. But, perhaps, upon a compariſon, the body has more effect upon the mind, than the mind upon the body. The firſt object of the mind is to act as purveyor to the wants of the body. When theſe wants are completely ſatisfied, an active mind is indeed apt to wander further, to range over the fields of ſcience, or ſport in the regions of imagination, to fancy that it has ‘ſhuffled off this mortal coil,’ and is ſeeking its kindred element. But all theſe efforts are like [229] the vain exertions of the hare in the fable. The ſlowly moving tortoiſe, the body, never fails to overtake the mind, however widely and extenſively it may have ranged, and the brighteſt and moſt energetic intellects, unwillingly as they may attend to the firſt or ſecond ſum⯑mons, muſt ultimately yield the em⯑pire of the brain to the calls of hun⯑ger, or ſink with the exhauſted body in ſleep.

It ſeems as if one might ſay with certainty, that if a medicine could be ſound to immortalize the body, there would be no fear of its being accom⯑panied by the immortality of the mind. But the immortality of the mind by no means ſeems to infer the immortality of the body. On the contrary, the greateſt conceivable energy of mind would probably exhauſt and deſtroy [230] the ſtrength of the body. A temperate vigour of mind appears to be favoura⯑ble to health; but very great intellec⯑tual exertions tend rather, as has been often obſerved, to wear out the ſcab⯑bard. Moſt of the inſtances which Mr. Godwin has brought to prove the power of the mind over the body, and the conſequent probability of the immorta⯑lity of man, are of this latter deſcrip⯑tion, and could ſuch ſtimulants be conti⯑nually applied, inſtead of tending to im⯑mortalize, they would tend very rapidly to deſtroy the human frame.

The probable increaſe of the volun⯑tary power of man over his animal frame, comes next under Mr. Godwin's conſideration, and he concludes by ſay⯑ing, that the voluntary power of ſome men, in this reſpect, is found to ex⯑tend to various articles in which other [231] men are impotent. But this is reaſon⯑ing againſt an almoſt univerſal rule from a few exceptions: and theſe ex⯑ceptions ſeem to be rather tricks, than powers, that may be exerted to any good purpoſe. I have never heard of any man who could regulate his pulſe in a fever; and doubt much, if any of the perſons here alluded to, have made the ſmalleſt perceptible progreſs in the re⯑gular correction of the diſorders of their frames, and the conſequent prolonga⯑tion of their lives.

Mr. Godwin ſays, ‘Nothing can be more unphiloſophical, than to conclude, that, becauſe a certain ſpecies of power is beyond the train of our preſent ob⯑ſervation, that it is beyond the limits of the human mind.’ I own my ideas of philoſophy are in this reſpect widely different from Mr. Godwin's. The only [232] diſtinction that I ſee, between a philo⯑ſophical conjecture, and the aſſertions of the Prophet Mr. Brothers, is, that one is founded upon indications ariſing from the train of our preſent obſerva⯑tions, and the other has no foundation at all. I expect that great diſcoveries are yet to take place in all the branches of human ſcience, particularly in phy⯑ſics; but the moment we leave paſt experience as the foundation of our conjectures concerning the future; and ſtill more, if our conjectures abſolutely contradict paſt experience, we are thrown upon a wide field of uncertainty, and any one ſuppoſition is then juſt as good as another. If a perſon were to tell me that men would ultimately have eyes and hands behind them as well as before them, I ſhould admit the uſefulneſs of the addition, but ſhould give as a reaſon for my diſbelief of it, that I [233] ſaw no indications whatever in the paſt, from which I could infer the ſmalleſt probability of ſuch a change. If this be not allowed a valid objection, all conjectures are alike, and all equally philoſophical. I own it appears to me, that in the train of our preſent obſervati⯑ons, there are no more genuine indications that man will become immortal upon earth, than that he will have four eyes and four hands, or that trees will grow horizontally inſtead of perpendicularly.

It will be ſaid, perhaps, that many diſcoveries have already taken place in the world that were totally unforeſeen and unexpected. This I grant to be true; but if a perſon had predicted theſe diſcoveries, without being guided by any analogies or indications from paſt facts, he would deſerve the name of ſeer or prophet, but not of philoſo⯑pher. [234] The wonder that ſome of our modern diſcoveries would excite in the ſavage inhabitants of Europe in the times of Theſeus and Achilles, proves but little. Perſons almoſt entirely unacquaint⯑ed with the powers of a machine, can⯑not be expected to gueſs at its effects. I am far from ſaying, that we are at preſent by any means fully acquainted with the powers of the human mind; but we certainly know more of this in⯑ſtrument than was known four thouſand years ago; and therefore, though not to be called competent judges, we are certainly much better able, than ſavages, to ſay what is, or is not, within its graſp. A watch would ſtrike a Savage with as much ſurprize as a perpetual motion; yet one, is to us a moſt fa⯑miliar piece of mechaniſm, and the other, has conſtantly eluded the efforts of the moſt acute intellects. In many [235] inſtances, we are now able to perceive the cauſes, which prevent an unlimited im⯑provement in thoſe inventions, which ſeemed to promiſe fairly for it at firſt. The original improvers of teleſcopes would probably think, that as long as the ſize of the ſpecula, and the length of the tubes could be increaſed, the powers and advantages of the inſtrument would increaſe: but experience has ſince taught us, that the ſmallneſs of the field, the deficiency of light, and the circumſtance of the atmoſphere being magnified, pre⯑vent the beneficial reſults that were to be expected from teleſcopes of extraor⯑dinary ſize and power. In many parts of knowledge, man has been almoſt con⯑ſtantly making ſome progreſs; in other parts, his efforts have been invariably baffled. The Savage would not proba⯑bly be able to gueſs at the cauſes of this mighty difference. Our further ex⯑perience [236] has given us ſome little in⯑ſight into theſe cauſes, and has there⯑fore enabled us better to judge, if not, of what we are to expect in future, at leaſt, of what we are not to expect, which, though negative, is a very uſeful piece of information.

As the neceſsity of ſleep ſeems ra⯑ther to depend upon the body than the mind, it does not appear how the improvement of the mind can tend very greatly to ſuperſede this ‘con⯑ſpicuous infirmity.’ A man who by great excitements on his mind, is able to paſs two or three nights without ſleep, proportionably exhauſts the vigour of his body: and this diminution of health and ſtrength, will ſoon diſturb the operations of his underſtanding; ſo that by theſe great efforts, he appears to have made no real progreſs whatever, [237] in ſuperſeding the neceſsity of this ſpe⯑cies of reſt.

There is certainly a ſufficiently mark⯑ed difference in the various characters of which we have ſome knowledge, re⯑lative to the energies of their minds, their benevolent purſuits, &c. to enable us to judge, whether the operations of intellect have any decided effect in pro⯑longing the duration of human life. It is certain, that no decided effect of this kind has yet been obſerved. Though no attention of any kind, has ever pro⯑duced ſuch an effect, as could be con⯑ſtrued into the ſmalleſt ſemblance of an approach towards immortality; yet of the two, a certain attention to the body, ſeems to have more effect in this reſpect, than an attention to the mind. The man who takes his temperate meals, and his bodily exerciſe, with ſcrupulous [238] regularity, will generally be found more healthy, than the man who, very deeply engaged in intellectual purſuits, often forgets for a time theſe bodily cravings. The citizen who has retired, and whoſe ideas, perhaps, ſcarcely ſoar above, or extend beyond his little garden, pud⯑ling all the morning about his borders of box, will, perhaps, live as long as the philoſopher whoſe range of intel⯑lect is the moſt exenſive, and whoſe views are the cleareſt of any of his con⯑temporaries. It has been poſitively ob⯑ſerved by thoſe who have attended to the bills of mortality, that women live longer upon an average than men; and, though I would not by any means ſay that their intellectual faculties are in⯑ferior, yet, I think, it muſt be allowed, that from their different education, there are not ſo many women as men, who [239] are excited to vigorous mental exer⯑tion.

As in theſe and ſimilar inſtances, or to take a larger range, as in the great diverſity of characters that have exiſted during ſome thouſand years, no decided difference has been obſerved in the du⯑ration of human life from the opera⯑tion of intellect, the mortality of man on earth ſeems to be as completely eſtabliſhed, and exactly upon the ſame grounds, as any one, the moſt conſtant, of the laws of nature. An immediate act of power in the Creator of the Uni⯑verſe might, indeed, change one or all of theſe laws, either ſuddenly or gra⯑dually; but without ſome indications of ſuch a change, and ſuch indications do not exiſt, it is juſt as unphiloſophical to ſuppoſe that the life of man may be prolonged beyond any aſsignable li⯑mits, [240] as to ſuppoſe that the attraction of the earth will gradually be changed into repulſion, and that ſtones will ul⯑timately riſe inſtead of fall, or that the earth will fly off at a certain pe⯑riod to ſome more genial and warmer ſun.

The concluſion of this chapter pre⯑ſents us, undoubtedly, with a very beau⯑tiful and deſireable picture, but like ſome of thoſe landſcapes, drawn from fancy, and not imagined with truth, it fails of that intereſt in the heart which nature and probability can alone give.

I cannot quit this ſubject without taking notice of theſe conjectures of Mr. Godwin and Mr. Condorcet, con⯑cerning the indefinite prolongation of human life, as a very curious inſtance [241] of the longing of the ſoul after immortality. Both theſe gentlemen have rejected the light of revelation which abſolutely promiſes eternal life in another ſtate. They have alſo re⯑jected the light of natural religion, which to the ableſt intellects in all ages, has indicated the future exiſtence of the ſoul. Yet ſo congenial is the idea of immortality to the mind of man, that they cannot conſent entirely to throw it out of their ſyſtems. After all their faſtidious ſcepticiſms concerning the only probable mode of immortality, they introduce a ſpecies of immortality of their own, not only completely con⯑tradictory to every law of philoſophical probability, but in itſelf in the higheſt degree, narrow, partial, and unjuſt. They ſuppoſe that all the great, virtuous, and exalted minds, that have ever exiſted, or that may exiſt for ſome thouſands, per⯑haps [242] millions of years, will be ſunk in annihilation; and that only a few be⯑ings, not greater in number than can exiſt at once upon the earth, will be ultimately crowned with immortality. Had ſuch a tenet been advanced as a tenet of revelation, I am very ſure that all the enemies of religion, and probably Mr. Godwin, and Mr. Con⯑dorcet among the reſt, would have ex⯑hauſted the whole force of their ridi⯑cule upon it, as the moſt puerile, the moſt abſurd, the pooreſt, the moſt pitiful, the moſt iniquitouſly unjuſt, and, conſe⯑quently, the moſt unworthy of the Deity, that the ſuperſtitious folly of man could invent.

What a ſtrange and curious proof do theſe conjectures exhibit of the incon⯑ſiſtency of ſcepticiſm! For it ſhould be obſerved, that there is a very ſtrik⯑ing [243] and eſſential difference, between be⯑lieving an aſſertion which abſolutely contradicts the moſt uniform experience, and an aſſertion which contradicts no⯑thing, but is merely beyond the power of our preſent obſervation and know⯑ledge ^*. So diverſified are the natural [244] objects around us, ſo many inſtances of mighty power daily offer themſelves to our view, that we may fairly pre⯑ſume, that there are many forms and operations of nature which we have not yet obſerved, or which, perhaps, we are not capable of obſerving with our pre⯑ſent confined inlets of knowledge. The reſurrection of a ſpiritual body from a natural body, does not appear in itſelf a more wonderful inſtance of power, than the germination of a blade of wheat from the grain, or of an oak from an acorn. Could we conceive an intelligent be⯑ing, ſo placed, as to be converſant only with inanimate, or full grown objects, and never to have witneſſed the proceſs of vegetation or growth; and were ano⯑ther [245] being to ſhew him two little pieces of matter, a grain of wheat, and an acorn, to deſire him to examine them, to analize them if he pleaſed, and en⯑deavour to find out their properties and eſſences; and then to tell him, that however trifling theſe little bits of mat⯑ter might appear to him, that they poſ⯑ſeſſed ſuch curious powers of ſelection, combination, arrangement, and almoſt of creation, that upon being put into the ground, they would chuſe, amongſt all the dirt and moiſture that ſurrounded them, thoſe parts which beſt ſuited their purpoſe, that they would collect and ar⯑range theſe parts with wonderful taſte, judgment, and execution, and would riſe up into beautiful forms, ſcarcely in any reſpect analogous to the little bits of matter which were firſt placed in the earth. I feel very little doubt that the imaginary being which I have [246] ſuppoſed, would heſitate more, would require better authority, and ſtronger proofs, before he believed theſe ſtrange aſſertions, than if he had been told, that a being of mighty power, who had been the cauſe of all that he ſaw around him, and of that exiſtence of which he himſelf was conſcious, would, by a great act of power upon the death and cor⯑ruption of human creatures, raiſe up the eſſence of thought in an incorporeal, or at leaſt inviſible form, to give it a happier exiſtence in another ſtate.

The only difference, with regard to our own apprehenſions, that is not in fa⯑vour of the latter aſſertion, is, that the firſt miracle ^* we have repeatedly ſeen, [247] and the laſt miracle we have not ſeen. I admit the full weight of this prodigious difference; but ſurely no man can heſi⯑tate a moment in ſaying, that putting Revelation out of the queſtion, the re⯑ſurrection [248] of a ſpiritual body from a na⯑tural body, which may be merely one among the many operations of nature which we cannot ſee, is an event inde⯑finitely more probable than the immorta⯑lity of man on earth, which is not only an event, of which no ſymptoms or indi⯑cations have yet appeared, but is a poſi⯑tive contradiction to one of the moſt con⯑ſtant of the laws of nature that has ever come within the obſervation of man.

I ought perhaps again to make an apo⯑logy to my readers for dwelling ſo long upon a conjecture, which many I know will think too abſurd and improbable, to require the leaſt diſcuſsion. But if it be as improbable, and as contrary to the genuine ſpirit of philoſophy as I own I think it is, why ſhould it not be ſhewn to be ſo in a candid examination? A conjecture, however improbable on the [249] firſt view of it, advanced by able and in⯑genious men, ſeems at leaſt to deſerve inveſtigation. For my own part I feel no diſinclination whatever, to give that degree of credit to the opinion of the probable immortality of man on earth, which the appearances that can be brought in ſupport of it deſerve. Before we de⯑cide upon the utter improbability of ſuch an event, it is but fair impartially to ex⯑amine theſe appearances; and from ſuch an examination I think we may conclude, that we have rather leſs reaſon for ſup⯑poſing that the life of man may be in⯑definitely prolonged, than that trees may be made to grow indefinitely high, or potatoes indefinitely large ^*.

CHAP. XIII.

IN the chapter which I have been exa⯑amining, Mr. Godwin profeſſes to con⯑ſider the objection to his ſyſtem of equa⯑lity from the principle of population. It has appeared I think clearly, that he is greatly erroneous in his ſtatement of the diſtance of this difficulty; and that inſtead of myriads of centuries, it is really not thirty years, or even thirty days, diſtant from us. The ſuppoſition of the approach of man to immorta⯑lity on earth, is certainly not of a kind to ſoften the difficulty. The only ar⯑gument, [251] therefore, in the chapter, which has any tendency to remove the objection, is the conjecture concerning the extinc⯑tion of the paſsion between the ſexes; but as this is a mere conjecture, unſup⯑ported by the ſmalleſt ſhadow of proof, the force of the objection may be fairly ſaid to remain unimpaired; and it is un⯑doubtedly of ſufficient weight of itſelf completely to overturn Mr. Godwin's whole ſyſtem of equality. I will, how⯑ever, make one or two obſervations on a few of the prominent parts of Mr. Godwin's reaſonings, which will contri⯑bute to place in a ſtill clearer point of view, the little hope that we can rea⯑ſonably entertain of thoſe vaſt improve⯑ments in the nature of man and of ſo⯑ciety, which he holds up to our admiring gaze in his political juſtice.

[252] Mr. Godwin conſiders man too much in the light of a being merely intellec⯑tual. This error, at leaſt ſuch I conceive it to be, pervades his whole work, and mixes itſelf with all his reaſonings. The voluntary actions of men may originate in their opinions; but theſe opinions will be very differently modified in creatures compounded of a rational faculty and corporal propenſities, from what they would be, in beings wholly intellectual. Mr. Godwin, in proving that ſound rea⯑ſoning and truth, are capable of being adequately communicated, examines the propoſition firſt practically; and then adds, ‘Such is the appearance which this pro⯑poſition aſſumes, when examined in a looſe and practical view. In ſtrict con⯑ſideration it will not admit of debate. Man is a rational being, &c ^*.’ So far [253] from calling this a ſtrict conſideration of the ſubject, I own I ſhould call it the looſeſt, and moſt erroneous way poſsible, of conſidering it. It is the calculating the velocity of a falling body in vacuo; and perſiſting in it, that it would be the ſame through whatever reſiſting me⯑diums it might fall. This was not New⯑ton's mode of philoſophizing. Very few general propoſitions are juſt in application to a particular ſubject. The moon is not kept in her orbit round the earth, nor the earth in her orbit round the ſun, by a force that varies merely in the inverſe ratio of the ſquares of the diſtances. To make the general theory juſt in ap⯑plication to the revolutions of theſe bo⯑dies, it was neceſſary to calculate ac⯑curately, the diſturbing force of the ſun upon the moon, and of the moon upon the earth; and till theſe diſturbing forces were properly eſtimated, actual obſervations on the motions of theſe bodies, would have [254] proved that the theory was not accu⯑rately true.

I am willing to allow that every vo⯑luntary act is preceded by a deciſion of the mind; but it is ſtrangely oppoſite to what I ſhould conceive to be the juſt theory upon the ſubject, and a pal⯑pable contradiction to all experience, to ſay, that the corporal propenſities of man do not act very powerfully, as diſturb⯑ing forces, in theſe deciſions. The queſ⯑tion, therefore, does not merely depend, upon whether a man may be made to underſtand a diſtinct propoſition, or be convinced by an unanſwerable argument. A truth may be brought home to his conviction as a rational being, though he may determine to act contrary to it, as a compound being. The cravings of hunger, the love of liquor, the de⯑ſire of poſſeſsing a beautiful woman, will [255] urge men to actions, of the fatal con⯑ſequences of which, to the general inte⯑reſts of ſociety, they are perfectly well convinced, even at the very time they commit them. Remove their bodily cravings, and they would not heſitate a moment in determining againſt ſuch actions. Aſk them their opinion of the ſame conduct in another perſon, and they would immediately reprobate it. But in their own caſe, and under all the cir⯑cumſtances of their ſituation with theſe bodily cravings, the deciſion of the com⯑pound being is different from the con⯑viction of the rational being.

If this be the juſt view of the ſubject; and both theory and experience unite to prove that it is; almoſt all Mr. Godwin's reaſonings on the ſubject of coercion in his 7th chapter, will appear to be founded on error. He ſpends ſome time in placing [256] in a ridiculous point of view, the at⯑tempt, to convince a man's underſtand⯑ing, and to clear up a doubtful propo⯑ſition in his mind, by blows. Undoubt⯑edly it is both ridiculous and barbarous; and ſo is cock-fighting; but one has little more to do with the real object of human puniſhments, than the other. One frequent (indeed much too frequent) mode of puniſhment is death. Mr. God⯑win will hardly think this intended for conviction; at leaſt it does not appear how the individual, or the ſociety, could reap much future benefit from an un⯑derſtanding enlightened in this manner.

The principal objects which human pu⯑niſhments have in view, are undoubtedly reſtraint and example: reſtraint, or re⯑moval of an individual member, whoſe vicious habits are likely to be prejudi⯑cial to the ſociety. And example, which [257] by expreſsing the ſenſe of the commu⯑nity with regard to a particular crime, and by aſſociating more nearly and vi⯑ſibly, crime and puniſhment, holds out a moral motive to diſſuade others from the commiſsion of it.

Reſtraint, Mr. Godwin thinks, may be permitted as a temporary expedient, though he reprobates ſolitary impriſon⯑ment, which has certainly been the moſt ſucceſsful, and, indeed, almoſt the only attempt, towards the moral amelioration of offenders. He talks of the ſelfiſh paſ⯑ſions that are foſtered by ſolitude, and of the virtues generated in ſociety. But ſurely theſe virtues are not generated in the ſociety of a priſon. Were the offender confined to the ſociety of able and virtuous men, he would probably be more improved than in ſolitude. But is this practicable? Mr. Godwin's [258] ingenuity is more frequently employed in finding out evils, than in ſuggeſting prac⯑tical remedies.

Puniſhment, for example, is totally reprobated. By endeavouring to make examples too impreſsive and terrible, na⯑tions have, indeed, been led into the moſt barbarous cruelties; but the abuſe of any practice is not a good argument againſt its uſe. The indefatigable pains taken in this country to find out a murder, and the certainty of its puniſhment, has powerfully contributed to generate that ſentiment which is frequent in the mouths of the common people, that a murder will ſooner or later come to light; and the habitual horror in which murder is in conſequence held, will make a man, in the agony of paſsion, throw down his knife, for fear he ſhould be tempted to uſe it in the gratification of his revenge. [259] In Italy, where murderers by flying to a ſanctuary, are allowed more frequently to eſcape, the crime has never been held in the ſame deteſtation, and has conſequently been more frequent. No man, who is at all aware of the opera⯑tion of moral motives, can doubt for a moment, that if every murder in Italy had been invariably puniſhed, the uſe of the ſtilletto in tranſports of paſsion, would have been comparatively but lit⯑tle known.

That human laws, either do, or can, proportion the puniſhment accurately to the offence, no perſon will have the folly to aſſert. From the inſcrutability of motives the thing is abſolutely im⯑poſsible: but this imperfection, though it may be called a ſpecies of injuſtice, is no valid argument againſt human laws. It is the lot of man, that he will fre⯑quently [260] have to chuſe between two evils; and it is a ſufficient reaſon for the adop⯑tion of any inſtitution, that it is the beſt mode that ſuggeſts itſelf of preventing greater evils. A continual endeavour ſhould undoubtedly prevail to make theſe inſtitutions as perfect as the nature of them will admit. But nothing is ſo eaſy, as to find fault with human inſtitutions; nothing ſo difficult, as to ſuggeſt ade⯑quate practical improvements. It is to be lamented, that more men of talents employ their time in the former occu⯑pation, than in the latter.

The frequency of crime among men, who, as the common ſaying is, know better, ſufficiently proves, that ſome truths may be brought home to the conviction of the mind without always producing the proper effect upon the conduct. There are other truths of a [261] nature that perhaps never can be ade⯑quately communicated from one man to another. The ſuperiority of the plea⯑ſures of intellect to thoſe of ſenſe, Mr. Godwin conſiders as a fundamental truth. Taking all circumſtances into conſidera⯑tion, I ſhould be diſpoſed to agree with him; but how am I to communicate this truth to a perſon who has ſcarcely ever felt intellectual pleaſure. I may as well attempt to explain the nature and beauty of colours to a blind man. If I am ever ſo laborious, patient, and clear, and have the moſt repeated opportuni⯑ties of expoſtulation, any real progreſs toward the accompliſhment of my purpoſe, ſeems abſolutely hopeleſs. There is no common meaſure between us. I can⯑not proceed ſtep by ſtep: it is a truth of a nature abſolutely incapable of demon⯑ſtration. All that I can ſay is, that the wiſeſt and beſt men in all ages had agreed [262] in giving the preference, very greatly, to the pleaſures of intellect; and that my own experience completely confirmed the truth of their deciſions; that I had found ſenſual pleaſures vain, tranſient, and con⯑tinually attended with tedium and diſ⯑guſt; but that intellectual pleaſures ap⯑peared to me ever freſh and young, filled up all my hours ſatisfactorily, gave a new zeſt to life, and diffuſed a laſting ſerenity over my mind. If he believe me, it can only be from reſpect and ve⯑neration for my authority: it is credu⯑lity, and not conviction. I have not ſaid any thing, nor can any thing be ſaid of a nature to produce real conviction. The affair is not an affair of reaſoning, but of experience. He would probably obſerve in reply, what you ſay may be very true with regard to yourſelf and many other good men, but for my own part I feel very differently upon the ſubject. I have [263] very frequently taken up a book, and al⯑moſt as frequently gone to ſleep over it; but when I paſs an evening with a gay party, or a pretty woman, I feel alive, and in ſpirits, and truly enjoy my exiſt⯑ence.

Under ſuch circumſtances, reaſoning and argument are not inſtruments from which ſucceſs can be expected. At ſome future time perhaps, real ſatiety of ſenſual pleaſures, or ſome accidental impreſsions that awakened the energies of his mind, might effect that, in a month, which the moſt patient and able expoſtulations, might be incapable of effecting in forty years.

CHAP. XIV.

IF the reaſonings of the preceding chap⯑ter are juſt, the corollaries reſpecting poli⯑tical truth, which Mr. Godwin draws from the propoſition, that the voluntary actions of men originate in their opinions, will not appear to be clearly eſtabliſhed. Theſe corollaries are, ‘Sound reaſoning and truth, when adequately communi⯑cated, muſt always be victorious over error: Sound reaſoning and truth are capable of being ſo communicated: Truth is omnipotent: The vices and moral [265] weakneſs of man are not invincible: Man is perfectible, or in other words, ſuſcep⯑tible of perpetual improvement.’

The firſt three propoſitions may be conſidered a complete ſyllogiſm. If by adequately communicated, be meant ſuch a conviction as to produce an adequate effect upon the conduct; the major may be allowed, and the minor denied. The conſequent, or the omnipotence of truth, of courſe falls to the ground. If by ade⯑quately communicated be meant merely the conviction of the rational faculty; the major muſt be denied, the minor will be only true in caſes capable of de⯑monſtration, and the conſequent equally falls. The fourth propoſition, Mr. God⯑win calls the preceding propoſition, with a ſlight variation in the ſtatement. If ſo, it muſt accompany the preceding propo⯑ſition in its fall. But it may be worth [266] while to inquire, with reference to the principal argument of this eſſay, into the particular reaſons which we have for ſuppoſing, that the vices and moral weak⯑neſs of man can never be wholly over⯑come in this world.

Man, according to Mr. Godwin, is a creature, formed what he is, by the ſuc⯑ceſsive impreſsions which he has received, from the firſt moment that the germ from which he ſprung was animated. Could he be placed in a ſituation, where he was ſub⯑ject to no evil impreſsions whatever, though it might be doubted whether in ſuch a ſituation virtue could exiſt, vice would certainly be baniſhed. The great bent of Mr. Godwin's work on political juſtice, if I underſtand it rightly, is to ſhew, that the greater part of the vices and weakneſſes of men, procced from the injuſtice of their political and ſocial [267] inſtitutions: and that if theſe were re⯑moved, and the underſtandings of men more enlightened, there would be little or no temptation in the world to evil. As it has been clearly proved, however, (at leaſt as I think) that this is entirely a falſe conception, and that, independent of any political or ſocial inſtitutions what⯑ever, the greater part of mankind, from the fixed and unalterable laws of nature, muſt ever be ſubject to the evil tempta⯑tions ariſing from want, beſides other paſsions; it follows from Mr. Godwin's definition of man, that ſuch impreſsions, and combinations of impreſsions, cannot be afloat in the world, without generat⯑ing a variety of bad men. According to Mr. Godwin's own conception of the formation of character, it is ſurely as improbable that under ſuch circum⯑ſtances, all men will be virtuous, as that ſixes will come up a hundred times [268] following upon the dice. The great va⯑riety of combinations upon the dice in a repeated ſucceſsion of throws, appears to me not inaptly to repreſent the great variety of character that muſt neceſſarily exiſt in the world, ſuppoſing every individual to be formed what he is, by that combination of impreſsions which he has received ſince his firſt exiſtence. And this compariſon will, in ſome meaſure, ſhew the abſurdity of ſuppoſing, that exceptions will ever be⯑come general rules; that extraordinary and unuſual combinations will be fre⯑quent; or that the individual inſtances of great virtue which have appeared in all ages of the world, will ever prevail univerſally.

I am aware that Mr. Godwin might ſay, that the compariſon is in one reſ⯑pect inaccurate; that in the caſe of the [269] dice, the preceding cauſes, or rather the chances reſpecting the preceding cauſes, were always the ſame; and that, there⯑fore, I could have no good reaſon for ſuppoſing that a greater number of ſixes would come up in the next hundred times of throwing, than in the preceding ſame number of throws. But, that man had in ſome ſort a power of influencing thoſe cauſes that formed character; and that every good and virtuous man that was produced, by the influence which he muſt neceſſarily have, rather increaſed the probability that another ſuch virtuous character would be ge⯑nerated; whereas the coming up of ſixes upon the dice once, would cer⯑tainly not increaſe the probability of their coming up a ſecond time. I ad⯑mit this objection to the accuracy of the compariſon, but it is only partially [270] valid. Repeated experience has aſſured us, that the influence of the moſt vir⯑tuous character will rarely prevail againſt very ſtrong temptations to evil. It will undoubtedly affect ſome, but it will fail with a much greater number. Had Mr. Godwin ſucceeded in his attempt to prove that theſe temptations to evil could by the exertions of man be re⯑moved, I would give up the compari⯑ſon; or at leaſt allow, that a man might be ſo far enlightened with re⯑gard to the mode of ſhaking his elbow, that he would be able to throw ſixes every time. But as long as a great number of thoſe impreſsions which form character, like the nice motions of the arm, remain abſolutely independent of the will of man; though it would be the height of folly and preſumption, to attempt to calculate the relative pro⯑portions [271] of virtue and vice at the fu⯑ture periods of the world; it may be ſafely aſſerted, that the vices and moral weakneſs of mankind, taken in the maſs, are invincible.

The fifth propoſition, is the general deduction from the four former, and will conſequently fall, as the founda⯑tions which ſupport it have given way. In the ſenſe in which Mr. Godwin underſtands the term perfectible, the perfectibility of man cannot be aſſerted, unleſs the preceding propoſitions could have been clearly eſtabliſhed. There is, however, one ſenſe, which the term will bear, in which it is, perhaps, juſt. It may be ſaid with truth, that man is always ſuſceptible of improvement; or that there never has been, or will be, a period of his hiſtory, in which he can be ſaid to have reached his poſsi⯑ble [272] achmè of perfection. Yet it does not by any means follow from this, that our efforts to improve man will always ſucceed; or even, that he will ever make, in the greateſt number of ages, any extraordinary ſtrides towards perfection. The only inference that can be drawn, is, that the preciſe li⯑mit of his improvement cannot poſsibly be known. And I cannot help again reminding the reader of a diſtinction, which, it appears to me, ought parti⯑cularly to be attended to in the pre⯑ſent queſtion; I mean, the eſſential dif⯑ference there is, between an unlimited improvement, and an improvement the limit of which cannot be aſcertained. The former is an improvement not ap⯑plicable to man under the preſent laws of his nature. The latter, undoubtedly, is applicable.

[273] The real perfectibility of man may be illuſtrated, as I have mentioned before, by the perfectibility of a plant. The object of the enterprizing floriſt, is, as I conceive, to unite ſize, ſymmetry, and beauty of colour. It would ſurely be pre⯑ſumptuous in the moſt. ſucceſsful im⯑prover to affirm, that he poſſeſſed a carnation in which theſe qualities exiſted in the greateſt poſsible ſtate of perfec⯑tion. However beautiful his flower may be, other care, other ſoil, or other ſuns, might produce one ſtill more beautiful. Yet, although he may be aware of the abſurdity of ſuppoſing that he has reached perfection; and though he may know by what means he attained that degree of beauty in the flower which he at preſent poſſeſſes, yet he cannot be ſure that by purſuing ſimilar means, rather increaſed in ſtrength, he will obtain a more beautiful bloſſom. By endea⯑vouring [274] to improve one quality, he may impair the beauty of another. The richer mould which he would employ to increaſe the ſize of his plant, would probably burſt the calyx, and deſtroy at once its ſymmetry. In a ſimilar manner, the forcing manure uſed to bring about the French revo⯑lution, and to give a greater freedom and energy to the human mind, has burſt the calyx of humanity, the reſ⯑training bond of all ſociety; and, however large the ſeparate petals have grown; however ſtrongly, or even beautifully a few of them have been marked; the whole is at preſent a looſe, deformed, disjointed maſs, without union, ſymmetry, or harmony of colour⯑ing.

Were it of conſequence to improve pinks and carnations, though we could [275] have no hope of raiſing them as large as cabbages, we might undoubtedly ex⯑pect, by ſucceſsive efforts, to obtain more beautiful ſpecimens than we at preſent poſſeſs. No perſon can deny the im⯑portance of improving the happineſs of the human ſpecies. Every, the leaſt advance in this reſpect, is highly valu⯑able. But an experiment with the hu⯑man race is not like an experiment upon inanimate objects. The burſting of a flower may be a trifle. Another will ſoon ſucceed it. But the burſting of the bonds of ſociety is ſuch a ſe⯑paration of parts as cannot take place without giving the moſt acute pain to thouſands: and a long time may clapſe, and much miſery may be endured, be⯑fore the wound grows up again.

As the five propoſitions which I have been examining may be conſidered as [276] the corner ſtones of Mr. Godwin's fan⯑ciful ſtructure; and, indeed, as expreſ⯑ſing the aim and bent of his whole work; however excellent much of his detached reaſoning may be, he muſt be conſidered as having failed in the great object of his undertaking. Be⯑ſides the difficulties ariſing from the compound nature of man, which he has by no means ſufficiently ſmoothed; the principal argument againſt the perfec⯑tibility of man and ſociety remains whole and unimpaired from any thing that he has advanced. And as far as I can truſt my own judgment, this ar⯑gument appears to be concluſive, not only againſt the perfectibility of man, in the enlarged ſenſe in which Mr. Godwin underſtands the term, but againſt any very marked and ſtriking change for the better, in the form and ſtruc⯑ture of general ſociety; by which I [277] mean, any great and decided ameliora⯑tion of the condition of the lower claſſes of mankind, the moſt numerous, and, conſequently, in a general view of the ſubject, the moſt important part of the human race. Were I to live a thou⯑ſand years, and the laws of nature to remain the ſame, I ſhould little fear, or rather little hope, a contradiction from experience, in aſſerting, that no poſsible ſacrifices or exertions of the rich, in a country which had been long inhabited, could for any time place the lower claſſes of the community in a ſituation equal, with regard to cir⯑cumſtances, to the ſituation of the com⯑mon people, about thirty years ago, in the northern States of America.

The lower claſſes of people in Eu⯑rope may, at ſome future period, be much better inſtructed than they are [278] at preſent; they may be taught to employ the little ſpare time they have in many better ways than at the ale⯑houſe; they may live under better and more equal laws than they have ever hitherto done, perhaps, in any country; and I even conceive it poſsible, though not probable, that they may have more leiſure; but it is not in the nature of things, that they can be awarded ſuch a quantity of money or ſubſiſtence, as will allow them all to marry early, in the full confidence that they ſhall be able to provide with eaſe for a nume⯑rous family.

CHAP. XV.

MR. Godwin in the preface to his En⯑quirer, drops a few expreſsions which ſeem to hint at ſome change in his opi⯑nions ſince he wrote the Political Juſtice; and as this is a work now of ſome years ſtanding, I ſhould certainly think, that I had been arguing againſt opinions, which the author had himſelf ſeen reaſon to alter, but that in ſome of the eſſays of the Enquirer, Mr. Godwin's peculiar mode of thinking, appears in as ſtriking a light as ever.

[280] It has been frequently obſerved, that though we cannot hope to reach perfection in any thing, yet that it muſt always be ad⯑vantageous to us, to place before our eyes the moſt perfect models. This obſerva⯑tion has a plauſible appearance, but is very far from being generally true. I even doubt its truth in one of the moſt obvious exemplifications that would occur. I doubt whether a very young painter would receive ſo much benefit, from an attempt to copy a highly finiſhed and perfect picture, as from copying one where the outlines were more ſtrongly marked, and the manner of laying on the colours was more eaſily diſcoverable. But in caſes, where the perfection of the model, is a perfection of a different and ſuperior nature from that, towards which we ſhould naturally advance, we ſhall not only always fail in making any progreſs towards it, but we ſhall [281] in all probability impede the progreſs, which we might have expected to make, had we not fixed our eyes upon ſo perfect a model. A highly intellectual being, exempt from the infirm calls of hunger or ſleep, is undoubtedly a much more perfect exiſtence than man: but were man to at⯑tempt to copy ſuch a model, he would not only fail in making any advances towards it; but by unwiſely ſtraining to imitate what was inimitable, he would probably de⯑ſtroy the little intellect which he was en⯑deavouring to improve.

The form and ſtructure of ſociety which Mr. Godwin deſcribes, is as eſ⯑ſentially diſtinct from any forms of ſo⯑ciety which have hitherto prevailed in the world, as a being that can live with⯑out food or ſleep is from a man. By improving ſociety in its preſent form, we are making no more advances to⯑wards [282] ſuch a ſtate of things as he pic⯑tures, than we ſhould make approaches towards a line, with regard to which we were walking parallel. The queſtion, therefore is, whether, by looking to ſuch a form of ſociety as our polar ſtar, we are likely to advance or retard the improve⯑ment of the human ſpecies? Mr. God⯑win appears to me to have decided this queſtion againſt himſelf in his eſſay on avarice and profuſion in the Enquirer.

Dr. Adam Smith has very juſtly ob⯑ſerved, that nations, as well as indivi⯑duals, grow rich by parſimony, and poor by profuſion; and that, therefore, every frugal man was a friend, and every ſpend⯑thrift an enemy to his country. The rea⯑ſon he gives is, that what is ſaved from revenue is always added to ſtock, and is therefore taken from the maintenance of labour that is generally unproduc⯑tive, [283] and employed in the maintenance of labour that realizes itſelf in valuable commodities. No obſervation can be more evidently juſt. The ſubject of Mr. Godwin's eſſay is a little ſimilar in its firſt appearance, but in eſſence is as diſtinct as poſsible. He conſiders the miſchief of profuſion, as an acknowledged truth; and therefore makes his compa⯑riſon between the avaricious man, and the man who ſpends his income. But the avaricious man of Mr. Godwin, is totally a diſtinct character, at leaſt with regard to his effect upon the proſperity of the ſtate, from the frugal man of Dr. Adam Smith. The frugal man in order to make more money, ſaves from his income, and adds to his capital; and this capital he either employs him⯑ſelf in the maintenance of productive labour, or he lends it to ſome other per⯑ſon, who will probably employ it in this [284] way. He benefits the ſtate, becauſe he adds to its general capital; and becauſe wealth employed as capital, not only ſets in motion more labour, than when ſpent as income, but the labour is be⯑ſides of a more valuable kind. But the avaricious man of Mr. Godwin locks up his wealth in a cheſt, and ſets in mo⯑tion no labour of any kind, either pro⯑ductive or unproductive. This is ſo eſ⯑ſential a difference, that Mr. Godwin's deciſion in his eſſay, appears at once as evidently falſe, as Dr. Adam Smith's poſition is evidently true. It could not, indeed, but occur to Mr. Godwin, that ſome preſent inconvenience might ariſe to the poor, from thus locking up the funds deſtined for the maintenance of labour. The only way, therefore, he had of weakening this objection, was to com⯑pare the two characters chiefly with re⯑gard to their tendency to accelerate the [285] approach of that happy ſtate of culti⯑vated equality, on which he ſays we ought always to fix our eyes as our polar ſtar.

I think it has been proved in the for⯑mer parts of this eſſay, that ſuch a ſtate of ſociety is abſolutely impractica⯑ble. What conſequences then are we to expect from looking to ſuch a point, as our guide and polar ſtar, in the great ſea of political diſcovery? Reaſon would teach us to expect no other, than winds perpetually adverſe, conſtant but fruit⯑leſs toil, frequent ſhipwreck, and cer⯑tain miſery. We ſhall not only fail in making the ſmalleſt real approach to⯑wards ſuch a perfect form of ſociety; but by waſting our ſtrength of mind and body, in a direction in which it is impoſsible to proceed, and by the frequent diſtreſs which we muſt neceſſarily occaſion by [286] our repeated failures, we ſhall evidently im⯑pede that degree of improvement in ſo⯑ciety, which is really attainable.

It has appeared that a ſociety conſti⯑tuted according to Mr. Godwin's ſyſtem, muſt, from the inevitable laws of our nature, degenerate into a claſs of pro⯑prietors, and a claſs of labourers; and that the ſubſtitution of benevolence, for ſelf-love, as the moving principle of ſo⯑ciety, inſtead of producing the happy effects that might be expected from ſo fair a name, would cauſe the ſame preſ⯑ſure of want to be felt by the whole of ſociety, which is now felt only by a part. It is to the eſtabliſhed adminiſtration of property, and to the apparently narrow principle of ſelf-love, that we are in⯑debted for all the nobleſt exertions of human genius, all the finer and more delicate emotions of the ſoul, for every [287] thing, indeed, that diſtinguiſhes the ci⯑vilized, from the ſavage ſtate; and no ſufficient change, has as yet taken place in the nature of civilized man, to ena⯑ble us to ſay, that he either is, or ever will be, in a ſtate, when he may ſafely throw down the ladder by which he has riſen to this eminence.

If in every ſociety that has advanced beyond the ſavage ſtate, a claſs of pro⯑prietors, and a claſs of labourers ^*, muſt [288] neceſſarily exiſt, it is evident, that, as labour is the only property of the claſs of labourers, every thing that tends to diminiſh the value of this property, muſt tend to diminiſh the poſſeſsions of this part of ſociety. The only way that a poor man has of ſupporting himſelf in inde⯑pendence, is by the exertion of his bo⯑dily ſtrength. This is the only commo⯑dity he has to give in exchange for the neceſſaries of life. It would hardly appear then that you benefit him, by narrowing the market for this commo⯑dity, by decreaſing the demand for la⯑bour, and leſſening the value of the only property that he poſſeſſes.

[289] Mr. Godwin would perhaps ſay, that the whole ſyſtem of barter and exchange, is a vile and iniquitous traffic. If you would eſſentially relieve the poor man, you ſhould take a part of his labour upon yourſelf, or give him your money, without exacting ſo ſevere a return for it. In anſwer to the firſt method pro⯑poſed, it may be obſerved, that even if the rich could be perſuaded to aſsiſt the poor in this way, the value of the aſsiſtance would be comparatively trifling. The rich, though they think themſelves of great importance, bear but a ſmall proportion in point of numbers to the poor, and would, therefore, relieve them but of a ſmall part of their burdens by taking a ſhare. Were all thoſe that are employed in the labours of luxuries, added to the number of thoſe employed in producing neceſſaries; and could theſe neceſſary labours be amicably divided [290] among all, each man's ſhare might in⯑deed be comparatively light; but deſire⯑able as ſuch an amicable diviſion would undoubtedly be, I cannot conceive any practical principle ^* according to which it could take place. It has been ſhewn, that the ſpirit of benevolence, guided by the ſtrict impartial juſtice that Mr. God⯑win deſcribes, would, if vigorouſly acted upon, depreſs in want and miſery the whole human race. Let us examine what would be the conſequence, if the pro⯑prietor were to retain a decent ſhare for himſelf; but to give the reſt away to [291] the poor, without exacting a taſk from them in return. Not to mention the idleneſs and the vice that ſuch a pro⯑ceeding, if general, would probably create in the preſent ſtate of ſociety, and the great riſk there would be, of diminiſhing the produce of land, as well as the la⯑bours of luxury, another objection yet remains.

It has appeared that from the princi⯑ple of population, more will always be in want than can be adequately ſupplied. The ſurplus of the rich man might be ſufficient for three, but four will be de⯑ſirous to obtain it. He cannot make this ſelection of three out of the four, with⯑out conferring a great favour on thoſe that are the objects of his choice. Theſe perſons muſt conſider themſelves as under a great obligation to him, and as de⯑pendent upon him for their ſupport. [292] The rich man would feel his power, and the poor man his dependence; and the evil effects of theſe two impreſsions on the human heart are well known. Though I perfectly agree with Mr. Godwin there⯑fore in the evil of hard labour; yet I ſtill think it a leſs evil, and leſs calculated to debaſe the human mind, than depend⯑ence; and every hiſtory of man that we have ever read, places in a ſtrong point of view, the danger to which that mind is expoſed, which is intruſted with conſtant power.

In the preſent ſtate of things, and particularly when labour is in requeſt, the man who does a days work for me, conſers full as great an obligation upon me, as I do upon him. I poſſeſs what he wants; he poſſeſſes what I want. We make an amicable exchange. The [293] poor man walks erect in conſcious in⯑dependence; and the mind of his em⯑ployer is not vitiated by a ſenſe of power.

Three or four hundred years ago, there was undoubtedly much leſs la⯑bour in England, in proportion to the population, than at preſent; but there was much more dependence: and we probably ſhould not now enjoy our preſent degree of civil liberty, if the poor, by the introduction of manufac⯑tures, had not been enabled to give ſomething in exchange for the provi⯑ſions of the great Lords, inſtead of be⯑ing dependent upon their bounty. Even the greateſt enemies of trade and ma⯑nufactures, and I do not reckon my⯑ſelf a very determined friend to them, muſt allow, that when they were in⯑troduced [294] into England, liberty came in their train.

Nothing that has been ſaid, tends in the moſt remote degree to undervalue the principle of benevolence. It is one of the nobleſt and moſt godlike quali⯑ties of the human heart, generated per⯑haps, ſlowly and gradually from ſelf-love; and afterwards intended to act as a general law, whoſe kind office it ſhould be, to ſoften the partial deformities, to correct the aſ⯑perities, and to ſmooth the wrinkles of its parent: and this ſeems to be the analogy of all nature. Perhaps there is no one general law of nature that will not ap⯑pear, to us at leaſt, to produce partial evil; and we frequently obſerve at the ſame time, ſome bountiful proviſion, which acting as another general law, corrects the inequalities of the firſt.

[295] The proper office of benevolence is to ſoften the partial evils ariſing from ſelf⯑love, but it can never be ſubſtituted in its place. If no man were to allow him⯑ſelf to act, till he had completely deter⯑mined, that the action he was about to perform, was more conducive than any other to the general good, the moſt en⯑lightened minds would heſitate in per⯑plexity and amazement; and the un⯑enlightened, would be continually com⯑mitting the groſſeſt miſtakes.

As Mr. Godwin, therefore, has not laid down any practical principle, according to which the neceſſary labours of agricul⯑ture might be amicably ſhared among the whole claſs of labourers; by general in⯑vectives againſt employing the poor, he appears to purſue an unattainable good through much preſent evil. For if every man who employs the poor, ought to be [296] conſidered as their enemy, and as adding to the weight of their oppreſsions; and if the miſer is, for this reaſon, to be pre⯑ferred to the man who ſpends his income, it follows, that any number of men who now ſpend their incomes, might, to the advantage of ſociety, be converted into miſers. Suppoſe then, that a hundred thouſand perſons who now employ ten men each, were to lock up their wealth from general uſe, it is evident, that a million of working men of different kinds would be completely thrown out of all employment. The extenſive mi⯑ſery that ſuch an event would produce in the preſent ſtate of ſociety, Mr. Godwin himſelf could hardly refuſe to acknowledge; and I queſtion whether he might not find ſome difficulty in proving, that a conduct of this kind tended more than the conduct of thoſe who ſpend their incomes to ‘place [297] human beings in the condition in which they ought to be placed.’

But Mr. Godwin ſays, that the miſer really locks up nothing; that the point has not been rightly underſtood; and that the true development and defini⯑tion of the nature of wealth have not been applied to illuſtrate it. Having defined therefore wealth, very juſtly, to be the commodities raiſed and foſtered by human labour, he obſerves, that the miſer locks up neither corn, nor oxen, nor clothes, nor houſes. Undoubtedly he does not really lock up theſe arti⯑cles, but he locks up the power of producing them, which is virtually the ſame. Theſe things are certainly uſed and conſumed by his contemporaries, as truly, and to as great an extent, as if he were a beggar; but not to as great an ex⯑tent, as if he had employed his wealth, in turning up more land, in breeding more [298] oxen, in employing more taylors, and in building more houſes. But ſuppoſing, for a moment, that the conduct of the miſer did not tend to check any really uſeful produce, how are all thoſe, who are thrown out of employment, to obtain patents which they may ſhew in order to be awarded a proper ſhare of the food and raiment produced by the ſo⯑ciety? This is the unconquerable diffi⯑culty.

I am perfectly willing to concede to Mr. Godwin that there is much more labour in the world than is really ne⯑ceſſary; and that, if the lower claſſes of ſociety could agree among themſelves never to work more than ſix or ſeven hours in the day, the commodities eſ⯑ſential to human happineſs might ſtill be produced in as great abundance as at preſent. But it is almoſt impoſsible to [299] that ſuch an agreement could be adhered to. From the principle of population, ſome would neceſſarily be more in want than others. Thoſe that had large families, would naturally be deſirous of exchanging two hours more of their labour for an ampler quantity of ſubſiſtence. How are they to be prevented from making this exchange? It would be a violation of the firſt and moſt ſacred property that a man poſ⯑ſeſſes, to attempt, by poſitive inſtitutions, to interfere with his command over his own labour.

Till Mr. Godwin, therefore, can point out ſome practical plan according to which the neceſſary labour in a ſociety might be equitably divided; his invec⯑tives againſt labour, if they were at⯑tended to, would certainly produce much preſent evil, without approximating us [300] to that ſtate of cultivated equality to which he looks forward as his polar ſtar; and which, he ſeems to think, ſhould at preſent be our guide in determining the nature and tendency of human actions. A mariner guided by ſuch a polar ſtar is in danger of ſhipwreck.

Perhaps there is no poſsible way in which wealth could, in general, be em⯑ployed ſo beneficially to a ſtate, and particularly to the lower orders of it, as by improving and rendering productive that land, which to a farmer would not anſwer the expence of cultivation. Had Mr. Godwin exerted his energetic elo⯑quence in painting the ſuperior worth and uſefulneſs of the character who employed the poor in this way, to him who employed them in narrow luxu⯑ries, every enlightened man muſt have applauded his efforts. The increaſing [301] demand for agricultural labour muſt always tend to better the condition of the poor; and if the acceſsion of work be of this kind, ſo far is it from being true, that the poor would be obliged to work ten hours, for the ſame price, that they before worked eight, that the very reverſe would be the fact; and a labourer might then ſupport his wife and family as well by the labour of ſix hours, as he could before by the la⯑bour of eight.

The labour created by luxuries, though uſeful in diſtributing the produce of the country, without vitiating the proprietor by power, or debaſing the labourer by dependence, has not, indeed, the ſame beneficial effects on the ſtate of the poor. A great acceſsion of work from manufactures, though it may raiſe the price of labour even more than an in⯑creaſing demand for agricultural labour; [302] yet, as in this caſe, the quantity of food in the country may not be pro⯑portionably increaſing, the advantage to the poor will be but temporary, as the price of proviſions muſt neceſſarily riſe in proportion to the price of labour. Relative to this ſubject, I cannot avoid venturing a few remarks on a part of Dr. Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations; ſpeaking at the ſame time with that diffidence, which I ought certainly to feel, in differing from a perſon ſo juſtly celebrated in the political world.

CHAP. XVI.

THE profeſſed object of Dr. Adam Smith's inquiry, is, the nature and cauſes of the wealth of nations. There is ano⯑ther inquiry, however, perhaps ſtill more intereſting, which he occaſionally mixes with it; I mean an inquiry into the cauſes which affect the happineſs of nations, or the happineſs and comfort of the lower orders of ſociety, which is the moſt numerous claſs in every na⯑tion. I am ſufficiently aware of the [304] near connection of theſe two ſubjects, and that the cauſes which tend to in⯑creaſe the wealth of a State, tend alſo, generally ſpeaking, to increaſe the hap⯑pineſs of the lower claſſes of the peo⯑ple. But perhaps Dr. Adam Smith has conſidered theſe two inquiries as ſtill more nearly connected than they really are; at leaſt, he has not ſtopped to take notice of thoſe inſtances, where the wealth of a ſociety may increaſe (according to his definition of wealth) without having any tendency to increaſe the comforts of the labouring part of it. I do not mean to enter into a philoſophical diſcuſsion of what con⯑ſtitutes the proper happineſs of man; but ſhall merely conſider two univer⯑ſally acknowledged ingredients, health, and the command of the neceſſaries and conveniences of life.

[305] Little or no doubt can exiſt, that the comforts of the labouring poor de⯑pend upon the increaſe of the funds deſtined for the maintenance of labour; and will be very exactly in proportion to the rapidity of this increaſe. The demand for labour which ſuch increaſe would occaſion, by creating a compe⯑tition in the market, muſt neceſſarily raiſe the value of labour; and, till the additional number of hands required were reared, the increaſed funds would be diſtributed to the ſame number of perſons as before the increaſe, and therefore every labourer would live com⯑paratively at his eaſe. But perhaps Dr. Adam Smith errs in repreſenting every increaſe of the revenue or ſtock of a ſociety as an increaſe of theſe funds. Such ſurplus ſtock or revenue will, in⯑deed, always be conſidered by the in⯑dividual poſſeſsing it, as an additional [306] fund from which he may maintain more labour: but it will not be a real and effectual fund for the maintenance of an additional number of labourers, unleſs the whole, or at leaſt a great part of this increaſe of the ſtock or revenue of the ſociety, be convertible into a pro⯑portional quantity of proviſions; and it will not be ſo convertible, where the increaſe has ariſen merely from the produce of labour, and not from the produce of land. A diſtinction will in this caſe occur, between the number of hands which the ſtock of the ſociety could employ, and the number which its territory can maintain.

To explain myſelf by an inſtance. Dr. Adam Smith defines the wealth of a nation to conſiſt in the annual pro⯑duce of its land and labour. This de⯑finition evidently includes manufactured [307] produce, as well as the produce of the land. Now ſuppoſing a nation, for a courſe of years, was to add what it ſaved from its yearly revenue, to its manufac⯑turing capital ſolely, and not to its ca⯑pital employed upon land, it is evident, that it might grow richer according to the above definition, without a power of ſupporting a greater number of la⯑bourers, and therefore, without an in⯑creaſe in the real funds for the mainte⯑nance of labour. There would, not⯑withſtanding, be a demand for labour, from the power which each manufac⯑turer would poſſeſs, or at leaſt think he poſſeſſed, of extending his old ſtock in trade, or of ſetting up freſh works. This demand would of courſe raiſe the price of labour; but if the yearly ſtock of proviſions in the country was not increaſing, this riſe would ſoon turn out to be merely nominal, as the price of pro⯑viſions [308] muſt neceſſarily riſe with it. The demand for manufacturing labourers might, indeed, entice many from agri⯑culture, and thus tend to diminiſh the annual produce of the land; but we will ſuppoſe any effect of this kind to be compenſated by improvements in the inſtruments of agriculture, and the quan⯑tity of proviſions therefore to remain the ſame. Improvements in manufac⯑turing machinery would of courſe take place; and this circumſtance, added to the greater number of hands employed in manufactures, would cauſe the annual produce of the labour of the country to be upon the whole greatly increaſed. The wealth therefore of the country would be increaſing annually, accord⯑ing to the definition, and might not, perhaps, be increaſing very ſlowly.

[309] The queſtion is, whether wealth, in⯑creaſing in this way, has any tendency to better the condition of the labour⯑ing poor. It is a ſelf-evident propoſi⯑tion, that any general riſe in the price of labour, the ſtock of proviſions re⯑maining the ſame, can only be a no⯑minal riſe, as it muſt very ſhortly be followed by a proportional riſe in pro⯑viſions. The increaſe in the price of labour therefore, which we have ſup⯑poſed, would have little or no effect in giving the labouring poor a greater command over the neceſſaries and con⯑veniences of life. In this reſpect they would be nearly in the ſame ſtate as before. In one other reſpect they would be in a worſe ſtate. A greater pro⯑portion of them would be employed in manufactures, and fewer, conſequently, in agriculture. And this exchange of profeſsions will be allowed, I think, by [310] all, to be very unfavourable in reſpect of health, one eſſential ingredient of happineſs, beſides the greater uncer⯑tainty of manufacturing labour, ariſing from the capricious taſte of man, the accidents of war, and other cauſes.

It may be ſaid, perhaps, that ſuch an inſtance as I have ſuppoſed could not occur, becauſe the riſe in the price of proviſions would immediately turn ſome additional capital into the chan⯑nel of agriculture. But this is an event which may take place very ſlowly, as it ſhould be remarked, that a riſe in the price of labour, had preceded the riſe of proviſions, and would, therefore, impede the good effects upon agricul⯑ture, which the increaſed value of the produce of the land might otherwiſe have occaſioned.

[311] It might alſo be ſaid, that the ad⯑ditional capital of the nation would enable it to import proviſions ſufficient for the maintenance of thoſe whom its ſtock could employ. A ſmall country with a large navy, and great inland accommodations for carriage, ſuch as Holland, may, indeed, import and diſ⯑tribute an effectual quantity of provi⯑ſions; but the price of proviſions muſt be very high, to make ſuch an impor⯑tation and diſtribution anſwer in large countries, leſs advantageouſly circum⯑ſtanced in this reſpect.

An inſtance, accurately ſuch as I have ſuppoſed, may not, perhaps, ever have occurred; but I have little doubt that inſtances nearly approximating to it may be found without any very laborious ſearch. Indeed I am ſtrongly inclined to think, that England herſelf, ſince the [312] revolution, affords a very ſtriking eluci⯑dation of the argument in queſtion.

The commerce of this country, in⯑ternal, as well as external, has certainly been rapidly advancing during the laſt century. The exchangeable value, in the market of Europe, of the annual produce of its land and labour, has, without doubt, increaſed very conſider⯑ably. But, upon examination, it will be found, that the increaſe has been chiefly in the produce of labour, and not in the produce of land; and there⯑fore, though the wealth of the nation has been advancing with a quick pace, the effectual funds for the maintenance of labour have been increaſing very ſlowly; and the reſult is ſuch as might be expected. The increaſing wealth of the nation has had little or no ten⯑dency to better the condition of the [313] labouring poor. They have not, I be⯑lieve, a greater command of the ne⯑ceſſaries and conveniences of life; and a much greater proportion of them, than at the period of the revolution, is em⯑ployed in manufactures, and crowded together in cloſe and unwholeſome rooms.

Could we believe the ſtatement of Dr. Price, that the population of Eng⯑land has decreaſed ſince the revolution, it would even appear, that the effectual funds for the maintenance of labour had been declining during the progreſs of wealth in other reſpects. For I con⯑ceive that it may be laid down as a general rule, that if the effectual funds for the maintenance of labour are in⯑creaſing, that is, if the territory can maintain, as well as the ſtock employ, a greater number of labourers, this ad⯑ditional number will quickly ſpring up, [314] even in ſpite of ſuch wars as Dr. Price enumerates. And, conſequently, if the population of any country has been ſta⯑tionary, or declining, we may ſafely infer, that, however it may have ad⯑vanced in manufacturing wealth, its ef⯑fectual funds for the maintenance of la⯑bour cannot have increaſed.

It is difficult, however, to conceive that the population of England has been declining ſince the revolution; though every teſtimony concurs to prove that its increaſe, if it has increaſed, has been very ſlow. In the controverſy which the queſtion has occaſioned, Dr. Price undoubtedly appears to be much more completely maſter of his ſubject, and to poſſeſs more accurate information than his opponents. Judging ſimply from this controverſy, I think one ſhould ſay, that Dr. Price's point is nearer be⯑ing [315] proved than Mr. Howlett's. Truth, probably, lies between the two ſtatements, but this ſuppoſition makes the increaſe of population, ſince the revolution, to have been very ſlow, in compariſon with the increaſe of wealth.

That the produce of the land has been decreaſing, or even that it has been ab⯑ſolutely ſtationary during the laſt cen⯑tury, few will be diſpoſed to believe. The incloſure of commons and waſte lands, certainly tends to increaſe the food of the country; but it has been aſſerted with confidence, that the incloſure of com⯑mon fields, has frequently had a con⯑trary effect; and that large tracts of land, which formerly produced great quantities of corn, by being converted into paſture, both employ fewer hands, and feed fewer mouths, than before their incloſure. It is, indeed, an acknowledged [316] truth, that paſture land produces a ſmaller quantity of human ſubſiſtence, than corn land of the ſame natural fertility; and could it be clearly aſcertained, that from the increaſed demand for butchers meat of the beſt quality, and its increaſed price in conſequence, a greater quantity of good land has annually been employed in grazing, the diminution of human ſub⯑ſiſtence, which this circumſtance would occaſion, might have counterbalanced the advantages derived from the incloſure of waſte lands, and the general improve⯑ments in huſbandry.

It ſcarcely need be remarked, that the high price of butchers meat at preſent, and its low price formerly, were not cauſed by the ſcarcity in the one caſe, or the plenty in the other, but by the different expence ſuſtained at the diffe⯑rent periods, in preparing cattle for the [317] market. It is, however, poſsible, that there might have been more cattle a hundred years ago in the country, than at preſent; but no doubt can be enter⯑tained, that there is much more meat of a ſuperior quality brought to market at preſent, than ever there was. When the price of butchers meat was very low, cattle were reared chiefly upon waſte lands; and except for ſome of the prin⯑cipal markets, were probably killed with but little other fatting. The veal that is ſold ſo cheap in ſome diſtant coun⯑ties at preſent, bears little other reſem⯑blance than the name, to that which is bought in London. Formerly, the price of butchers meat would not pay for rear⯑ing, and ſcarcely for feeding cattle on land that would anſwer in tillage; but the preſent price will not only pay for fatting cattle on the very beſt land, but will even allow of the rearing many, on [318] land that would bear good crops of corn. The ſame number of cattle, or even the ſame weight of cattle at the different pe⯑riods when killed, will have conſumed (if I may be allowed the expreſsion) very different quantities of human ſub⯑ſiſtence. A fatted beaſt may in ſome reſpects be conſidered, in the language of the French oeconomiſts, as an unpro⯑ductive labourer: he has added nothing to the value of the raw produce that he has conſumed. The preſent ſyſtem of grazing, undoubtedly tends more than the former ſyſtem to diminiſh the quantity of human ſubſiſtence in the country, in proportion to the general fertility of the land.

I would not by any means be under⯑ſtood to ſay, that the former ſyſtem ei⯑ther could, or ought, to have continued. The increaſing price of butchers meat, [319] is a natural and inevitable conſequence of the general progreſs of cultivation; but I cannot help thinking, that the pre⯑ſent great demand for butchers meat of the beſt quality, and the quantity of good land that is in conſequence annually em⯑ployed to produce it, together with the great number of horſes at preſent kept for pleaſure, are the chief cauſes, that have prevented the quantity of human food in the country, from keeping pace with the generally increaſed fertility of the ſoil; and a change of cuſtom in theſe reſpects, would, I have little doubt, have a very ſenſible effect on the quan⯑tity of ſubſiſtence in the country, and conſequently on its population.

The employment of much of the moſt fertile land in grazing, the im⯑provements in agricultural inſtruments, the increaſe of large farms, and parti⯑cularly, [320] the diminution of the number of cottages throughout the kingdom, all concur to prove, that there are not probably, ſo many perſons employed in agricultural labour now, as at the period of the revolution. Whatever increaſe of population, therefore, has taken place, muſt be employed almoſt wholly in manufactures; and it is well known, that the failure of ſome of theſe manu⯑factures, merely from the caprice of faſhion, ſuch as, the adoption of muſlins inſtead of ſilks, or of ſhoe-ſtrings, and covered buttons, inſtead of buckles and metal buttons, combined with the re⯑ſtraints in the market of labour ariſing from corporation, and pariſh laws, have frequently driven thouſands on charity for ſupport. The great increaſe of the poors rates, is, indeed, of itſelf, a ſtrong evidence, that the poor have not a greater command of the neceſſaries and conve⯑niences [321] of life; and if to the conſidera⯑tion, that their condition in this re⯑ſpect is rather worſe than better, be added the circumſtance, that a much greater proportion of them is employed in large manufactories, unfavourable both to health and virtue, it muſt be acknow⯑ledged, that the increaſe of wealth of late years, has had no tendency to in⯑creaſe the happineſs of the labouring poor.

That every increaſe of the ſtock or revenue of a nation, cannot be con⯑ſidered as an increaſe of the real funds for the maintenance of labour, and, therefore, cannot have the ſame good effect upon the condition of the poor, will appear in a ſtrong light, if the ar⯑gument be applied to China.

[322] Dr. Adam Smith obſerves, that China has probably long been as rich, as the na⯑ture of her laws and inſtitutions will admit; but that with other laws and inſtitutions, and if foreign commerce were had in honour, ſhe might ſtill be much richer. The queſtion is, would ſuch an increaſe of wealth, be an increaſe of the real funds for the maintenance of la⯑bour, and conſequently, tend to place the lower claſſes of people in China in a ſtate of greater plenty?

It is evident, that if trade and foreign commerce were held in great honour in China; from the plenty of labourers, and the cheapneſs of labour, ſhe might work up manufactures for foreign ſale to an immenſe amount. It is equally evi⯑dent, that from the great bulk of provi⯑ſions, and the amazing extent of her in⯑land territory, ſhe could not in return [323] import ſuch a quantity, as would be any ſenſible addition to the annual ſtock of ſubſiſtence in the country. Her im⯑menſe amount of manufactures, therefore, ſhe would exchange, chiefly, for luxuries collected from all parts of the world. At preſent, it appears, that no labour what⯑ever is ſpared in the production of food. The country is rather over peopled in proportion to what its ſtock can em⯑ploy, and labour is, therefore, ſo abun⯑dant, that no pains are taken to abridge it. The conſequence of this, is, probably, the greateſt production of food that the ſoil can poſsibly afford: for it will be generally obſerved, that proceſſes for abridging labour, though they may ena⯑ble a farmer to bring a certain quan⯑tity of grain cheaper to market, tend rather to diminiſh, than increaſe the whole produce; and in agriculture, there⯑fore, may, in ſome reſpects, be conſidered [324] rather as private, than public advantages. An immenſe capital could not be em⯑ployed in China in preparing manufac⯑tures for foreign trade, without taking off ſo many labourers from agriculture, as to alter this ſtate of things, and in ſome degree to diminiſh the produce of the country. The demand for manufac⯑turing labourers would naturally raiſe the price of labour; but as the quantity of ſubſiſtence would not be increaſed, the price of proviſions would keep pace with it; or even more than keep pace with it, if the quantity of proviſions were really decreaſing. The country would be evidently advancing in wealth: the exchangeable value of the annual pro⯑duce of its land and labour, would be an⯑nually augmented; yet the real funds for the maintenance of labour, would be ſtationary, or even declining; and, conſequently, the increaſing wealth of [325] the nation would rather tend to depreſs, than to raiſe, the condition of the poor. With regard to the command over the neceſſaries and comforts of life, they would be in the ſame or rather worſe ſtate than before; and a great part of them would have exchanged the healthy labours of agriculture, for the unhealthy occupations of manufacturing induſtry.

The argument, perhaps, appears clearer when applied to China, becauſe it is ge⯑nerally allowed, that the wealth of China has been long ſtationary. With regard to any other country it might be always a matter of diſpute, at which of the two periods, compared, wealth was increaſing the faſteſt; as it is upon the rapidity of the increaſe of wealth at any particular period, that Dr. Adam Smith ſays the condition of the poor depends. It is evi⯑dent, however, that two nations might [326] increaſe, exactly with the ſame rapi⯑dity, in the exchangeable value of the annual produce of their land and la⯑bour; yet if one had applied itſelf chiefly to agriculture, and the other chiefly to commerce, the funds for the maintenance of labour, and conſequently the effect of the increaſe of wealth in each nation, would be extremely different. In that which had applied itſelf chiefly to agri⯑culture, the poor would live in great plenty, and population would rapidly in⯑creaſe. In that which had applied itſelf chiefly to commerce, the poor would be comparatively but little benefited, and conſequently population would increaſe ſlowly.

CHAP. XVII.

A QUESTION ſeems naturally to ariſe here, whether the exchangeable value of the annual produce of the land and la⯑bour, be the proper definition of the wealth of a country; or, whether the groſs produce of the land, according to the French oeconomiſts, may not be a more accurate definition. Certain it is, that every increaſe of wealth, according to the definition of the Oeconomiſts, will [328] be an increaſe of the funds for the main⯑tenance of labour, and conſequently will always tend to ameliorate the condition of the labouring poor; though an in⯑creaſe of wealth, according to Dr. Adam Smith's definition, will by no means in⯑variably have the ſame tendency. And yet it may not follow from this con⯑ſideration, that Dr. Adam Smith's de⯑finition is not juſt. It ſeems in many reſpects improper, to exclude the cloath⯑ing and lodging of a whole people from any part of their revenue. Much of it may, indeed, be of very trivial and unimportant value, in compariſon with the food of the country; yet ſtill it may be fairly conſidered as a part of its re⯑venue: and, therefore, the only point in which I ſhould differ from Dr. Adam Smith, is, where he ſeems to conſider every increaſe of the revenue or ſtock of a ſociety, as an increaſe of the funds [329] for the maintenance of labour, and con⯑ſequently, as tending always to ameliorate the condition of the poor.

The fine ſilks and cottons, the laces, and other ornamental luxuries, of a rich country, may contribute very conſider⯑ably to augment the exchangeable value of its annual produce; yet they con⯑tribute but in a very ſmall degree, to augment the maſs of happineſs in the ſociety: and it appears to me, that it is with ſome view to the real utility of the produce, that we ought to eſti⯑mate the productiveneſs, or unproduc⯑tiveneſs of different ſorts of labour. The French Oeconomiſts conſider all labour employed in manufactures as unproduc⯑tive. Comparing it with the labour em⯑ployed upon land, I ſhould be perfectly diſpoſed to agree with them; but not ex⯑actly for the reaſons which they give. [330] They ſay, that labour employed upon land is productive, becauſe the produce, over and above completely paying the labourer and the farmer, affords a clear rent to the landlord; and that the labour employed upon a piece of lace is unpro⯑ductive, becauſe it merely replaces the proviſions that the workman had con⯑ſumed, and the ſtock of his employer, without affording any clear rent what⯑ever. But ſuppoſing the value of the wrought lace to be ſuch, as that be⯑ſides paying in the moſt complete man⯑ner the workman and his employer, it could afford a clear rent to a third perſon; it appears to me, that in com⯑pariſon with the labour employed upon land, it would be ſtill as unproductive as ever. Though according to the rea⯑ſoning uſed by the French Oeconomiſts, the man employed in the manufacture of lace would, in this caſe, ſeem to be a pro⯑ductive [331] labourer; yet according to their definition of the wealth of a ſtate, he ought not to be conſidered in that light. He will have added nothing to the groſs produce of the land: he has conſumed a portion of this groſs produce, and has left a bit of lace in return; and though he may ſell this bit of lace for three times the quantity of proviſions that he con⯑ſumed whilſt he was making it, and thus be a very productive labourer with regard to himſelf; yet he cannot be conſidered as having added by his labour to any eſſential part of the riches of the ſtate. The clear rent, therefore, that a certain produce can afford, after paying the expences of procuring it, does not ap⯑pear to be the ſole criterion, by which to judge of the productiveneſs or un⯑productiveneſs to a ſtate, of any parti⯑cular ſpecies of labour.

[332] Suppoſe, that two hundred thouſand men, who are now employed in producing manufactures, that only tend to gratify the vanity of a few rich people, were to be employed upon ſome barren and un⯑cultivated lands, and to produce only half the quantity of food that they themſelves conſumed; they would be ſtill, more productive labourers with regard to the ſtate, than they were before; though their labour, ſo far from affording a rent to a third perſon, would but half replace the proviſions uſed in obtain⯑ing the produce. In their former employ⯑ment, they conſumed a certain portion of the food of the country, and left in return, ſome ſilks and laces. In their latter employment, they conſumed the ſame quantity of food, and left in re⯑turn, proviſion for a hundred thouſand men. There can be little doubt, which of the two legacies would be the moſt [333] really beneficial to the country; and it will, I think, be allowed, that the wealth which ſupported the two hundred thou⯑ſand men, while they were producing ſilks and laces, would have been more uſefully employed in ſupporting them, while they were producing the additional quantity of food.

A capital employed upon land, may be unproductive to the individual that employs it, and yet be highly produc⯑tive to the ſociety. A capital employed in trade on the contrary, may be highly productive to the individual, and yet be almoſt totally unproductive to the ſo⯑ciety: and this is the reaſon why I ſhould call manufacturing labour unpro⯑ductive, in compariſon of that which is employed in agriculture, and not for the reaſon given by the French Oeconomiſts. It is, indeed, almoſt impoſsible, to ſee [334] the great fortunes that are made in trade, and the liberality with which ſo many merchants live, and yet agree in the ſtatement or the Oeconomiſts, that ma⯑nufacturers can only grow rich by de⯑priving themſelves of the funds deſ⯑tined for their ſupport. In many branches of trade the profits are ſo great, as would allow of a clear rent to a third perſon: but as there is no third perſon in the caſe, and as all the profits centre in the maſter manufacturer, or merchant, he ſeems to have a fair chance of grow⯑ing rich, without much privation; and we conſequently ſee large fortunes ac⯑quired in trade by perſons who have not been remarked for their parſimony.

Daily experience proves, that the labour employed in trade and manufactures, is ſufficiently productive to individuals; but it certainly is not productive in the ſame [335] degree to the ſtate. Every acceſsion to the food of a country, tends to the im⯑mediate benefit of the whole ſociety; but the fortunes made in trade, tend, but in a remote and uncertain manner, to the ſame end, and in ſome reſpects have even a contrary tendency. The home trade of conſumption, is by far the moſt important trade of every nation. China is the richeſt country in the world, with⯑out any other. Putting then, for a mo⯑ment, foreign trade out of the queſtion, the man, who by an ingenious manufac⯑ture, obtains a double portion out of the old ſtock of proviſions, will certainly not be ſo uſeful to the ſtate, as the man who, by his labour, adds a ſingle ſhare to the former ſtock. The conſumable commo⯑dities of ſilks, laces, trinkets, and ex⯑penſive furniture, are undoubtedly a part of the revenue of the ſociety; but they are the revenue only of the rich, and [336] not of the ſociety in general. An in⯑creaſe in this part of the revenue of a ſtate, cannot, therefore, be conſidered of the ſame importance, as an increaſe of food, which forms the principal re⯑venue of the great maſs of the people.

Foreign commerce adds to the wealth of a ſtate, according to Dr. Adam Smith's definition, though not according to the definition of the oeconomiſts. Its princi⯑pal uſe, and the reaſon, probably, that it has in general been held in ſuch high eſtimation, is, that it adds greatly to the external power of a nation, or to its power of commanding the labour of other countries; but it will be found, upon a near examination, to contribute but little to the increaſe of the internal funds for the maintenance of labour, and conſe⯑quently but little to the happineſs of the greateſt part of ſociety. In the natural [337] progreſs of a ſtate towards riches, manu⯑factures, and foreign commerce; would follow, in their order, the high cultiva⯑tion of the ſoil. In Europe, this natural order of things has been inverted; and the ſoil has been cultivated from the redun⯑dancy of manufacturing capital, inſtead of manufactures riſing from the redun⯑dancy of capital employed upon land. The ſuperior encouragement that has been given to the induſtry of the towns, and the conſequent higher price that is paid for the labour of artificers, than for the labour of thoſe employed in huſbandry, are probably the reaſons why ſo much ſoil in Europe remains uncultivated. Had a different policy been purſued through⯑out Europe, it might undoubtedly have been much more populous than at pre⯑ſent, and yet not be more incumbered by its population.

[338] I cannot quit this curious ſubject of the difficulty ariſing from population, a ſubject, that appears to me, to deſerve a minute inveſtigation, and able diſcuſsion, much beyond my power to give it, with⯑out taking notice of an extraordinary paſſage in Dr. Price's two volumes of Ob⯑ſervations. Having given ſome tables on the probabilities of life, in towns and in the country, he ſays, ^* ‘From this com⯑pariſon, it appears, with how much truth great cities have been called the graves of mankind. It muſt alſo convince all who will conſider it, that according to the ob⯑ſervation, at the end of the fourth eſſay, in the former volume, it is by no means ſtrictly proper to conſider our diſeaſes as the original intention of nature. They are, without doubt, in general our own creation. Were there a country where the [339] inhabitants led lives entirely natural and virtuous, few of them would die without meaſuring out the whole period of preſent exiſtence allotted to them; pain and diſtem⯑per would be unknown among them, and death would come upon them like a ſleep, in conſequence of no other cauſe than gra⯑dual and unavoidable decay.’

I own, that I felt myſelf obliged to draw a very oppoſite concluſion from the facts advanced in Dr. Price's two volumes. I had for ſome time been aware, that population and food, increaſed in dif⯑ferent ratios; and a vague opinion had been floating in my mind, that they could only be kept equal by ſome ſpecies of miſery or vice; but the peruſal of Dr. Price's two volumes of Obſervations, after that opinion had been conceived, raiſed it at once to conviction. With ſo many facts in his view, to prove the [340] extraordinary rapidity with which po⯑pulation increaſes, when unchecked; and with ſuch a body of evidence before him, to elucidate, even the manner, by which the general laws of nature repreſs a re⯑dundant population; it is perfectly in⯑conceivable to me, how he could write the paſſage that I have quoted. He was a ſtrenuous advocate for early marriages, as the beſt preſervative againſt vicious manners. He had no fanciful concep⯑tions about the extinction of the paſsion between the ſexes, like Mr. Godwin, nor did he ever think of eluding the dif⯑ficulty in the ways hinted at by Mr. Condorcet. He frequently talks of giving the prolifick powers of nature room to exert themſelves. Yet with theſe ideas, that his underſtanding could eſcape from the obvious and neceſſary inference, that an unchecked population would increaſe, beyond compariſon, faſter than the earth, [341] by the beſt directed exertions of man, could produce food for its ſupport, ap⯑pears to me as aſtoniſhing, as if he had reſiſted the concluſion of one of the plaineſt propoſitions of Euclid.

Dr. Price, ſpeaking of the different ſtages of the civilized ſtate, ſays, ‘The firſt, or ſimple ſtages of civilization, are thoſe which favour moſt the increaſe and the happineſs of mankind.’ He then inſtances the American colonies, as be⯑ing at that time in the firſt, and happieſt of the ſtates, that he had deſcribed; and as affording a very ſtriking proof of the effects of the different ſtages of civiliza⯑tion on population. But he does not ſeem to be aware, that the happineſs of the Americans, depended much leſs upon their peculiar degree of civilization, than upon the peculiarity of their ſituation, as new colonies, upon their having a [342] great plenty of fertile uncultivated land. In parts of Norway, Denmark, or Swe⯑den, or in this country, two or three hun⯑dred years ago, he might have found per⯑haps nearly the ſame degree of civilization; but by no means the ſame happineſs, or the ſame increaſe of population. He quotes himſelf a ſtatute of Henry the Eighth, complaining of the decay of til⯑lage, and the enhanced price of provi⯑ſions, ‘whereby a marvellous number of people were rendered incapable of main⯑taining themſelves and families.’ The ſu⯑perior degree of civil liberty which prevail⯑ed in America, contributed, without doubt, its ſhare, to promote the induſtry, hap⯑pineſs, and population of theſe ſtates: but even civil liberty, all powerful as it is, will not create freſh land. The Ame⯑ricans may be ſaid, perhaps, to enjoy a greater degree of civil liberty, now they are an independent people, than while [343] they were in ſubjection to England; but we may be perfectly ſure, that popula⯑tion will not long continue to increaſe with the ſame rapidity as it did then.

A perſon who contemplated the hap⯑py ſtate of the lower claſſes of people in America twenty years ago, would naturally wiſh to retain them for ever in that ſtate; and might think, per⯑haps, that by preventing the introduc⯑tion of manufactures and luxury, he might effect his purpoſe: but he might as reaſonably expect to prevent a wife or miſtreſs from growing old by never expoſing her to the ſun or air. The ſituation of new colonies, well governed, is a bloom of youth that no efforts can arreſt. There are, indeed, many modes of treatment in the political, as well as animal body, that contribute to accele⯑rate or retard the approaches of age: [344] but there can be no chance of ſucceſs, in any mode that could be deviſed, for keeping either of them in perpetual youth. By encouraging the induſtry of the towns more than the induſtry of the country, Europe may be ſaid, per⯑haps, to have brought on a premature old age. A different policy in this reſpect, would infuſe freſh life and vigour into every ſtate. While from the law of primogeni⯑ture, and other European cuſtoms, land bears a monopoly price, a capital can never be employed in it with much advantage to the individual; and, there⯑fore, it is not probable that the ſoil ſhould be properly cultivated. And, though in every civilized ſtate, a claſs of proprietors and a claſs of labourers muſt exiſt; yet one permanent advantage would always reſult from a nearer equali⯑zation of property. The greater the number of proprietors, the ſmaller muſt [345] be the number of labourers: a greater part of ſociety would be in the happy ſtate of poſſeſsing property; and a ſmaller part in the unhappy ſtate of poſſeſsing no other property than their labour. But the beſt directed exertions, though they may alleviate, can never remove the preſſure of want; and it will be difficult for any perſon who contem⯑plates the genuine ſituation of man on earth, and the general laws of nature, to ſuppoſe it poſsible that any, the moſt enlightened efforts, could place man⯑kind in a ſtate where ‘few would die without meaſuring out the whole pe⯑riod of preſent exiſtence allotted to them; where pain and diſtemper would be un⯑known among them; and death would come upon them like a ſleep, in con⯑ſequence of no other cauſe than gra⯑dual and unavoidable decay.’

[346] It is, undoubtedly, a moſt diſhearten⯑ing reflection, that the great obſtacle in the way to any extraordinary im⯑provement in ſociety, is of a nature that we can never hope to overcome. The perpetual tendency in the race of man to increaſe beyond the means of ſubſiſtence, is one of the general laws of animated nature, which we can have no reaſon to expect will change. Yet, diſ⯑couraging as the contemplation of this difficulty muſt be, to thoſe whoſe ex⯑ertions are laudably directed to the im⯑provement of the human ſpecies, it is evident, that no poſsible good can ariſe from any endeavours to ſlur it over, or keep it in the back ground. On the contrary, the moſt baleful miſchiefs may be expected from the unmanly conduct of not daring to face truth, becauſe it is unpleaſing. Independently of what relates to this great obſtacle, [347] ſufficient yet remains to be done for mankind, to animate us to the moſt un⯑remitted exertion. But if we proceed without a thorough knowledge, and ac⯑curate comprehenſion of the nature, ex⯑tent, and magnitude, of the difficulties we have to encounter, or if we un⯑wiſely direct our efforts towards an ob⯑ject, in which we cannot hope for ſuc⯑ceſs; we ſhall not only exhauſt our ſtrength in fruitleſs exertions, and re⯑main at as great a diſtance as ever from the ſummit of our wiſhes; but we ſhall be perpetually cruſhed by the recoil of this rock of Siſyphus.

CHAP. XVIII.

THE view of human life, which re⯑ſults from the contemplation of the conſtant preſſure of diſtreſs on man from the difficulty of ſubſiſtence, by ſhewing the little expectation that he can reaſonably entertain of perfectibility on earth, ſeems ſtrongly to point his hopes to the future. And the tempta⯑tions to which he muſt neceſſarily be expoſed, from the operation of thoſe laws of nature which we have been ex⯑amining, [349] would ſeem to repreſent the world, in the light in which it has been frequently conſidered, as a ſtate of trial, and ſchool of virtue, preparatory to a ſuperior ſtate of happineſs. But I hope I ſhall be pardoned, if I attempt to give a view in ſome degree different of the ſituation of man on earth, which appears to me, to be more con⯑ſiſtent with the various phenomena of nature which we obſerve around us, and more conſonant to our ideas of the power, goodneſs, and foreknowledge of the Deity.

It cannot be conſidered as an unim⯑proving exerciſe of the human mind to endeavour to

If we proceed with a proper diſtruſt of our own underſtandings, and a juſt [350] ſenſe of our inſufficiency to comprehend the reaſon of all that we ſee; if we hail every ray of light with gratitude; and when no light appears, think that the darkneſs is from within, and not from without; and bow with humble defe⯑rence to the ſupreme wiſdom of him, whoſe ‘thoughts are above our thoughts,’ ‘as the heavens are high above the earth.’

In all our feeble attempts, however, to ‘find out the Almighty to perfec⯑tion,’ it ſeems abſolutely neceſſary, that we ſhould reaſon from nature up to nature's God, and not preſume to rea⯑ſon from God to nature. The moment we allow ourſelves to aſk why ſome things are not otherwiſe, inſtead of en⯑deavouring to account for them, as they are, we ſhall never know where to ſtop; we ſhall be led into the [351] groſseſt, and moſt childiſh abſurdities; all progreſs in the knowledge of the ways of Providence muſt neceſſarily be at an end; and the ſtudy will even ceaſe to be an improving exerciſe of the hu⯑man mind. Infinite power is ſo vaſt and incomprehenſible an idea, that the mind of man muſt neceſſarily be be⯑wildered in the contemplation of it. With the crude and puerile conceptions which we ſometimes form of this at⯑tribute of the Deity, we might imagine that God could call into being myriads, and myriads of exiſtences; all free from pain and imperfection; all eminent in goodneſs and wiſdom; all capable of the higheſt enjoyments; and unnumbered as the points throughout infinite ſpace. But when from theſe vain and extra⯑vagant dreams of fancy, we turn our eyes to the book of nature, where alone we can read God as he is, we ſee a con⯑ſtant [352] ſucceſsion of ſentient beings, riſing apparently from ſo many ſpecks of mat⯑ter, going through a long and ſome⯑times painful proceſs in this world; but many of them attaining, ere the ter⯑mination of it, ſuch high qualities and powers, as ſeem to indicate their fitneſs for ſome ſuperior ſtate. Ought we not then to correct our crude and puerile ideas of Infinite Power from the contem⯑plation of what we actually ſee exiſting? Can we judge of the Creator but from his creation? And, unleſs we wiſh to exalt the power of God at the expence of his goodneſs, ought we not to con⯑clude, that even to the Great Creator, Almighty as he is, a certain proceſs may be neceſſary, a certain time, (or at leaſt what appears to us as time) may be requiſite, in order to form beings with thoſe exalted qualities of mind which will fit them for his high purpoſes?

[353] A ſtate of trial ſeems to imply a previouſly formed exiſtence, that does not agree with the appearance of man in infancy, and indicates ſomething like ſuſpicion and want of foreknowledge, inconſiſtent with thoſe ideas which we wiſh to cheriſh of the Supreme Being. I ſhould be inclined, therefore, as I have hinted before in a note, to con⯑ſider the world, and this life, as the mighty proceſs of God, not for the trial, but for the creation and formation of mind; a procesſs neceſſary, to awaken inert, chaotic matter, into ſpirit; to ſub⯑limate the duſt of the earth into ſoul; to elicit an aethereal ſpark from the clod of clay. And in this view of the ſubject, the various impreſsions and ex⯑citements which man receives through life, may be conſidered as the forming hand of his Creator, acting by general laws, and awakening his ſluggiſh ex⯑iſtence, [354] by the animating touches of the Divinity, into a capacity of ſuperior enjoyment. The original ſin of man, is the torpor and corruption of the chaotic matter, in which he may be ſaid to be born.

It could anſwer no good purpoſe to enter into the queſtion, whether mind be a diſtinct ſubſtance from matter, or only a finer form of it. The queſtion is, perhaps, after all, a queſtion merely of words. Mind is as eſſentially mind, whether formed from matter, or any other ſubſtance. We know, from ex⯑perience, that ſoul and body are moſt intimately united; and every appearance ſeems to indicate, that they grow from infancy together. It would be a ſup⯑poſition attended with very little proba⯑bility, to believe that a complete and full formed ſpirit exiſted in every infant; [355] but that it was clogged and impeded in its operations, during the firſt twenty years of life, by the weakneſs, or hebe⯑tude, of the organs in which it was en⯑cloſed. As we ſhall all be diſpoſed to agree, that God is the creator of mind as well as of body; and as they both ſeem to be forming and unfolding themſelves at the ſame time; it cannot appear in⯑conſiſtent either with reaſon or revela⯑tion, if it appear to be conſiſtent with the phenomena of nature, to ſuppoſe that God is conſtantly occupied in form⯑ing mind out of matter, and that the various impreſsions that man receives through life, is the proceſs for that pur⯑poſe. The employment is ſurely worthy of the higheſt attributes of the Deity.

This view of the ſtate of man on earth will not ſeem to be unattended with probability, if, judging from the little [356] experience we have of the nature of mind, it ſhall appear, upon inveſtigation, that the phenomena around us, and the various events of human life, ſeem pecu⯑liarly calculated to promote this great end: and eſpecially, if, upon this ſup⯑poſition, we can account, even to our own narrow underſtandings, for many of thoſe roughneſſes and inequalities in life, which querulous man too frequently makes the ſubject of his complaint againſt the God of nature.

The firſt great awakeners of the mind ſeem to be the wants of the body ^*. [357] They are the firſt ſtimulants that rouſe the brain of infant man into ſentient activity: and ſuch ſeems to be the ſlug⯑giſhneſs of original matter, that unleſs, by a peculiar courſe of excitements, other wants, equally powerful, are generated, theſe ſtimulants ſeem, even afterwards, to be neceſſary, to continue that activity which they firſt awakened. The ſavage would ſlumber for ever under his tree, unleſs he were rouſed from his torpor by the cravings of hunger, or the pinchings of cold; and the exertions that he makes to avoid theſe evils, by procuring food, and building himſelf a covering, are the exerciſes which form and keep in mo⯑tion his faculties, which otherwiſe would ſink into liſtleſs inactivity. From all that experience has taught us concerning the ſtructure of the human mind, if thoſe ſtimulants to exertion, which ariſe from the wants of the body, were removed [358] from the maſs of mankind, we have much more reaſon to think, that they would be ſunk to the level of brutes, from a deficiency of excitements, than that they would be raiſed to the rank of phi⯑loſophers by the poſſeſsion of leiſure. In thoſe countries, where nature is the moſt redundant in ſpontaneous produce, the inhabitants will not be found the moſt remarkable for acuteneſs of intellect. Neceſsity has been with great truth called the mother of invention. Some of the nobleſt exertions of the human mind have been ſet in motion by the neceſsity of ſatisfying the wants of the body. Want has not unfrequently given wings to the imagination of the poet; pointed the flowing periods of the hiſtorian; and added acuteneſs to the reſearches of the philoſopher: and though there are un⯑doubtedly many minds at preſent, ſo far improved by the various excitements of [359] knowledge, or of ſocial ſympathy, that they would not relapſe into liſtleſneſs, if their bodily ſtimulants were removed; yet, it can ſcarcely be doubted, that theſe ſtimulants could not be withdrawn from the maſs of mankind, without pro⯑ducing a general and fatal torpor, de⯑ſtructive of all the germs of future im⯑provement.

Locke, if I recollect, ſays, that the endeavour to avoid pain, rather than the purſuit of pleaſure, is the great ſtimulus to action in life: and that in looking to any particular pleaſure, we ſhall not be rouſed into action in order to obtain it, till the contemplation of it has continued ſo long, as to amount to a ſenſation of pain or uneaſineſs under the abſence of it. To avoid evil, and to purſue good, ſeem to be the great duty and buſineſs of man; and this world appears to be [360] peculiarly calculated to afford opportu⯑nity of the moſt unremitted exertion of this kind: and it is by this exertion, by theſe ſtimulants, that mind is formed. If Locke's idea be juſt, and there is great reaſon to think that it is, evil ſeems to be neceſſary to create exertion; and ex⯑ertion ſeems evidently neceſſary to create mind.

The neceſsity of food for the ſupport of life, gives riſe, probably, to a greater quantity of exertion, than any other want, bodily or mental. The ſupreme Being has ordained, that the earth ſhall not produce food in great quantities, till much preparatory labour and inge⯑nuity has been exerciſed upon its ſurface. There is no conceivable connection to our comprehenſions, between the ſeed, and the plant, or tree, that riſes from it. The Supreme Creator might, undoubtedly, [361] raiſe up plants of all kinds, for the uſe of his creatures, without the aſsiſtance of thoſe little bits of matter, which we call ſeed, or even without the aſsiſting la⯑bour and attention of man. The proceſſes of ploughing and clearing the ground, of collecting and ſowing ſeeds, are not ſurely for the aſsiſtance of God in his creation; but are made previouſly neceſ⯑ſary to the enjoyment of the bleſsings of life, in order to rouſe man into action, and form his mind to reaſon.

To furniſh the moſt unremitted excite⯑ments of this kind, and to urge man to further the gracious deſigns of Providence, by the full cultivation of the earth, it has been ordained, that population ſhould in⯑creaſe much faſter than food. This ge⯑neral law, (as it has appeared in the for⯑mer parts of this eſſay) undoubtedly pro⯑duces much partial evil; but a little re⯑flection [362] may, perhaps, ſatisfy us, that it produces a great overbalance of good. Strong excitements ſeem neceſſary to create exertion; and to direct this exer⯑tion, and form the reaſoning faculty, it ſeems abſolutely neceſſary, that the Su⯑preme Being ſhould act always according to general laws. The conſtancy of the laws of nature, or the certainty, with which we may expect the ſame effect, from the ſame cauſes, is the foundation of the faculty of reaſon. If in the or⯑dinary courſe of things, the finger of God were frequently viſible; or to ſpeak more correctly, if God were frequently to change his purpoſe, (for the finger of God is, indeed, viſible in every blade of graſs that we ſee) a general and fatal torpor of the human faculties would pro⯑bably enſue; even the bodily wants of mankind would ceaſe to ſtimulate them to exertion, could they not reaſonably [363] expect, that if their efforts were well directed, they would be crowned with ſucceſs. The conſtancy of the laws of nature, is the foundation of the induſtry and foreſight of the huſbandman; the indefatigable ingenuity of the artificer; the ſkilful reſearches of the phyſician, and anatomiſt; and the watchful obſer⯑vation, and patient inveſtigation, of the natural philoſopher. To this conſtancy, we owe all the greateſt, and nobleſt ef⯑forts of intellect. To this conſtancy, we owe the immortal mind of a Newton.

As the reaſons, therefore, for the con⯑ſtancy of the laws of nature, ſeem, even to our underſtandings, obvious and ſtrik⯑ing; if we return to the principle of po⯑pulation, and conſider man as he really is, inert, ſluggiſh, and averſe from la⯑bour, unleſs compelled by neceſsity, (and it is ſurely the height of folly to talk of [364] man, according to our crude fancies, of what he might be) we may pronounce, with certainty, that the world would not have been peopled, but for the ſu⯑periority of the power of population to the means of ſubſiſtence. Strong, and conſtantly operative as this ſtimulus is on man, to urge him to the cultivation of the earth; if we ſtill ſee that cultivation proceeds very ſlowly, we may fairly con⯑clude, that a leſs ſtimulus would have been inſufficient. Even under the ope⯑ration of this conſtant excitement, ſavages will inhabit countries of the greateſt na⯑tural fertility, for a long period, before they betake themſelves to paſturage or agriculture. Had population and food increaſed in the ſame ratio, it is proba⯑ble that man might never have emerged from the ſavage ſtate. But ſuppoſing the earth once well peopled, an Alexander, a Julius Caeſar, a Tamerlane, or a bloody revolution, might irrecoverably thin the [365] human race, and defeat the great deſigns of the Creator. The ravages of a con⯑tagious diſorder would be felt for ages; and an earthquake might unpeople a region for ever. The principle, accord⯑ing to which population increaſes, pre⯑vents the vices of mankind, or the ac⯑cidents of nature, the partial evils ariſing from general laws, from obſtructing the high purpoſe of the creation. It keeps the inhabitants of the earth always fully up to the level of the means of ſub⯑ſiſtence; and is conſtantly acting upon man as a powerful ſtimulus, urging him to the further cultivation of the earth, and to enable it, conſequently, to ſup⯑port a more extended population. But it is impoſsible that this law can ope⯑rate, and produce the effects apparently intended by the Supreme Being, without occaſioning partial evil. Unleſs the prin⯑ciple of population were to be altered, [366] according to the circumſtances of each ſeparate country, (which would not only be contrary to our univerſal experience, with regard to the laws of nature, but would contradict even our own reaſon, which ſees the abſolute neceſsity of ge⯑neral laws, for the formation of intellect;) it is evident, that the ſame principle, which, ſeconded by induſtry, will peo⯑ple a fertile region in a few years, muſt produce diſtreſs in countries that have been long inhabited.

It ſeems, however, every way proba⯑ble, that even the acknowledged diffi⯑culties occaſioned by the law of popula⯑tion, tend rather to promote, than im⯑pede the general purpoſe of Providence. They excite univerſal exertion, and con⯑tribute to that infinite variety of ſitua⯑tions, and conſequently of impreſsions, which ſeems, upon the whole, favoura⯑ble [367] to the growth of mind. It is proba⯑ble, that too great, or too little excite⯑ment, extreme poverty, or too great riches, may be alike unfavourable in this reſpect. The middle regions of ſociety ſeem to be beſt ſuited to intellectual im⯑provement; but it is contrary to the analogy of all nature, to expect that the whole of ſociety can be a middle region. The temperate zones of the earth, ſeem to be the moſt favourable to the mental, and corporeal energies of man; but all cannot be temperate zones. A world, warmed and enlightened but by one ſun, muſt, from the laws of matter, have ſome parts chilled by perpetual froſts, and others ſcorched by perpetual heats. Every piece of matter lying on a ſurface, muſt have an upper, and an under ſide: all the particles cannot be in the middle. The moſt valuable parts of an oak, to a timber merchant, are not either the roots, [368] or the branches; but theſe are abſolutely neceſſary to the exiſtence of the middle part, or ſtem, which is the object in re⯑queſt. The timber merchant could not poſsibly expect to make an oak grow without roots or branches; but if he could find out a mode of cultivation, which would cauſe more of the ſubſtance to go to ſtem, and leſs to root and branch, he would be right to exert him⯑ſelf in bringing ſuch a ſyſtem into gene⯑ral uſe.

In the ſame manner, though we can⯑not poſsibly expect to exclude riches, and poverty, from ſociety; yet if we could find out a mode of government, by which, the numbers in the extreme re⯑gions would be leſſened, and the num⯑bers in the middle regions increaſed, it would be undoubtedly our duty to adopt it. It is not, however, improbable, that [369] as in the oak, the roots and branches could not be diminiſhed very greatly, without weakening the vigorous circula⯑tion of the ſap in the ſtem; ſo in ſo⯑ciety, the extreme parts could not be diminiſhed beyond a certain degree, without leſſening that animated exertion throughout the middle parts, which is the very cauſe, that they are the moſt favourable to the growth of intellect. If no man could hope to riſe, or fear to fall, in ſociety; if induſtry did not bring with it its reward, and idleneſs its puniſh⯑ment, the middle parts would not cer⯑tainly be what they now are. In reaſon⯑ing upon this ſubject, it is evident, that we ought to conſider chiefly the maſs of mankind, and not individual inſtances. There are undoubtedly many minds, and there ought to be many, according to the chances, out of ſo great a maſs, that, having been vivified early, by a peculiar [370] courſe of excitements, would not need the conſtant action of narrow motives, to continue them in activity. But if we were to review the various uſeful diſco⯑veries, the valuable writings, and other laudable exertions of mankind; I believe we ſhould find, that more were to be attributed to the narrow motives that operate upon the many, than to the ap⯑parently more enlarged motives that ope⯑rate upon the few.

Leiſure is, without doubt, highly va⯑luable to man; but taking man, as he is, the probability ſeems to be, that in the greater number of inſtances, it will produce evil rather than good. It has been not unfrequently remarked, that talents are more common among younger brothers, than among elder brothers; but it can ſcarcely be imagined, that younger brothers are, upon an average, born with [371] a greater original ſuſceptibility of parts. The difference, if there really is any ob⯑ſervable difference, can only ariſe from their different ſituations. Exertion and activity, are in general abſolutely neceſ⯑ſary in the one caſe, and are only op⯑tional in the other.

That the difficulties of life, contribute to generate talents, every days experience muſt convince us. The exertions that men find it neceſſary to make, in order to ſupport themſelves or families, fre⯑quently awaken faculties, that might otherwiſe have lain for ever dormant: and it has been commonly remarked, that new and extraordinary ſituations ge⯑nerally create minds adequate to grapple with the difficulties in which they are involved.

CHAP. XIX.

THE ſorrows and diſtreſſes of life form another claſs of excitements, which ſeem to be neceſſary, by a peculiar train of impreſsions, to ſoften and humanize the heart, to awaken ſocial ſympathy, to generate all the Chriſtian virtues, and to afford ſcope for the ample exertion of benevolence. The general tendency [373] of an uniform courſe of proſperity is, rather to degrade, than exalt the cha⯑racter. The heart that has never known ſorrow itſelf, will ſeldom be feelingly alive, to the pains and pleaſures, the wants and wiſhes, of its fellow beings. It will ſeldom be overflowing with that warmth of brotherly love, thoſe kind and amiable affections, which dignify the human character, even more than the poſſeſsion of the higheſt talents. Ta⯑lents, indeed, though undoubtedly a very prominent and fine feature of mind, can by no means be conſidered as conſtituting the whole of it. There are many minds which have not been expoſed to thoſe ex⯑citements, that uſually form talents, that have yet been vivified to a high degree, by the excitements of ſocial ſympathy. In every rank of life, in the loweſt, as frequently as in the higheſt, characters are to be found, overflowing with the [374] milk of human kindneſs, breathing love to⯑wards God and man; and though with⯑out thoſe peculiar powers of mind called talents, evidently holding a higher rank in the ſcale of beings, than many who poſſeſs them. Evangelical charity, meek⯑neſs, piety, and all that claſs of virtues, diſtinguiſhed particularly by the name of Chriſtian virtues, do not ſeem neceſſa⯑rily to include abilities; yet a ſoul poſ⯑ſeſſed of theſe amiable qualities, a ſoul awakened and vivified by theſe delight⯑ful ſympathies, ſeems to hold a nearer commerce with the ſkies, than mere acuteneſs of intellect.

The greateſt talents have been fre⯑quently miſapplied, and have produced evil proportionate to the extent of their powers. Both reaſon and revelation ſeem to aſſure us, that ſuch minds will be con⯑demned to eternal death; but while on [375] earth, theſe vicious inſtruments performed their part in the great maſs of impreſ⯑ſions, by the diſguſt and abhorrence which they excited. It ſeems highly probable, that moral evil is abſolutely neceſſary to the production of moral excellence. A being with only good placed in view, may be juſtly ſaid to be impelled by a blind neceſsity. The purſuit of good in this caſe, can be no indication of virtuous propenſities. It might be ſaid, perhaps, that Infinite Wiſdom, cannot want ſuch an indication as outward action, but would foreknow, with certainty, whe⯑ther the being would chuſe good or evil. This might be a plauſible argu⯑ment againſt a ſtate of trial; but will not hold againſt the ſuppoſition, that mind in this world is in a ſtate of form⯑ation. Upon this idea, the being that has ſeen moral evil, and has felt diſappro⯑bation and diſguſt at it, is eſſentially [376] different from the being that has ſeen only good. They are pieces of clay that have received diſtinct impreſsions: they muſt, therefore, neceſſarily be in different ſhapes; or, even if we allow them both to have the ſame lovely form of virtue, it muſt be acknowledged, that one has under⯑gone the further proceſs, neceſſary to give firmneſs and durability to its ſub⯑ſtance; while the other is ſtill expoſed to injury, and liable to be broken by every accidental impulſe. An ardent love and admiration of virtue ſeems to imply the exiſtence of ſomething oppo⯑ſite to it; and it ſeems highly probable, that the ſame beauty of form and ſub⯑ſtance, the ſame perfection of character, could not be generated, without the impreſsions of diſapprobation which ariſe from the ſpectacle of moral evil.

[377] When the mind has been awakened into activity by the paſsions, and the wants of the body, intellectual wants ariſe; and the deſire of knowledge, and the impatience under ignorance, form a new and important claſs of excitements. Every part of nature ſeems peculiarly cal⯑culated to furniſh ſtimulants to mental exertion of this kind, and to offer inex⯑hauſtible food for the moſt unremitted inquiry. Our immortal Bard ſays of Cleopatra—

The expreſsion, when applied to any one object, may be conſidered as a poetical amplification, but it is accurately true when applied to nature. Infinite variety, ſeems, indeed, eminently her character⯑iſtic feature. The ſhades that are here and there blended in the picture, give [378] ſpirit, life, and prominence to her exu⯑berant beauties; and thoſe roughneſſes and inequalities, thoſe inferior parts that ſupport the ſuperior, though they ſome⯑times offend the faſtidious miſcroſcopic eye of ſhort ſighted man, contribute to the ſymmetry, grace, and fair proportion of the whole.

The infinite variety of the forms and operations of nature, beſides tending im⯑mediately to awaken and improve the mind by the variety of impreſsions that it creates, opens other fertile ſources of improvement, by offering ſo wide and extenſive a field for inveſtigation and reſearch. Uniform, undiverſified perfec⯑tion, could not poſſeſs the ſame awaken⯑ing powers. When we endeavour then to contemplate the ſyſtem of the univerſe; when we think of the ſtars as the ſuns of other ſyſtems, ſcattered throughout infinite ſpace; when we reflect, that we [379] do not probably ſee a millionth part of thoſe bright orbs, that are beaming light and life to unnumbered worlds; when our minds, unable to graſp the im⯑meaſurable conception, ſink, loſt and con⯑founded, in admiration at the mighty in⯑comprehenſible power of the Creator; let us not querulouſly complain that all climates are not equally genial; that perpe⯑tual ſpring does not reign throughout the year; that all God's creatures do not poſſeſs the ſame advantages; that clouds and tem⯑peſts ſometimes darken the natural world, and vice and miſery, the moral world; and that all the works of the creation are not formed with equal perfection. Both reaſon and experience ſeem to indicate to us, that the infinite variety of nature, (and variety cannot exiſt without inferior parts, or apparent blemiſhes) is admira⯑bly adapted to further the high pur⯑poſe of the creation, and to produce the greateſt poſsible quantity of good.

[380] The obſcurity that involves all meta⯑phyſical ſubjects, appears to me, in the ſame manner peculiarly calculated, to add to that claſs of excitements which ariſe from the thirſt of knowledge. It is probable that man, while on earth, will never be able to attain complete ſatisfaction on theſe ſubjects; but this is by no means a reaſon that he ſhould not engage in them. The darkneſs that ſurrounds theſe intereſting topics of hu⯑man curioſity, may be intended to fur⯑niſh endleſs motives to intellectual acti⯑vity and exertion. The conſtant effort to diſpel this darkneſs, even if it fail of ſucceſs, invigorates and improves the thinking faculty. If the ſubjects of hu⯑man inquiry were once exhauſted, mind would probably ſtagnate; but the in⯑finitely diverſified forms and operations of nature, together with the endleſs food for ſpeculation which metaphyſical ſub⯑jects [381] offer, prevent the poſsibility that ſuch a period ſhould ever arrive.

It is by no means one of the wiſeſt ſayings of Solomon, that ‘there is no new thing under the ſun.’ On the con⯑trary, it is probable, that were the pre⯑ſent ſyſtem to continue for millions of years, continual additions would be mak⯑ing to the maſs of human knowledge; and yet, perhaps, it may be a matter of doubt, whether, what may be called the capacity of mind, be in any marked and decided manner increaſing. A Socrates, a Plato, or an Ariſtotle, however con⯑feſſedly inferior in knowledge to the philoſophers of the preſent day, do not appear to have been much below them in intellectual capacity. Intellect riſes from a ſpeck, continues in vigour only for a certain period, and will not, per⯑haps, admit, while on earth, of above [382] a certain number of impreſsions. Theſe impreſsions may, indeed, be infinitely modified, and from theſe various modi⯑fications, added probably to a difference in the ſuſceptibility of the original germs ^*, ariſe the endleſs diverſity of character that we ſee in the world; but reaſon and experience ſeem both to aſſure us, that the capacity of indi⯑vidual minds does not increaſe in pro⯑portion to the maſs of exiſting know⯑ledge. The fineſt minds ſeem to be formed rather by efforts at original [383] thinking, by endeavours to form new combinations, and to diſcover new truths, than by paſsively receiving the impreſ⯑ſions of other men's ideas. Could we ſup⯑poſe the period arrived, when there was no further hope of future diſcoveries; and the only employment of mind was to ac⯑quire pre-exiſting knowledge, without any efforts to form new and original combinations; though the maſs of hu⯑man knowledge were a thouſand times greater than it is at preſent; yet it is evident that one of the nobleſt ſtimu⯑lants to mental exertion would have ceaſed; the fineſt feature of intellect would be loſt; every thing allied to ge⯑nius would be at an end; and it ap⯑pears to be impoſsible, that, under ſuch circumſtances, any individuals could poſ⯑ſeſs the ſame intellectual energies, as were poſſeſſed by a Locke, a Newton, [384] or a Shakeſpear, or even by a Socrates, a Plato, an Ariſtotle, or a Homer.

If a revelation from heaven, of which no perſon could feel the ſmalleſt doubt, were to diſpel the miſts that now hang over metaphyſical ſubjects; were to ex⯑plain the nature and ſtructure of mind, the affections and eſſences of all ſub⯑ſtances, the mode in which the Su⯑preme Being operates in the works of the creation, and the whole plan and ſcheme of the Univerſe; ſuch an ac⯑ceſsion of knowledge, ſo obtained, in⯑ſtead of giving additional vigour and activity to the human mind, would, in all probability, tend to repreſs future ex⯑ertion, and to damp the ſoaring wings of intellect.

For this reaſon I have never con⯑ſidered the doubts and difficulties that [385] involve ſome parts of the ſacred writings, as any argument againſt their divine original. The Supreme Being might, undoubtedly, have accompanied his re⯑velations to man by ſuch a ſucceſsion of miracles, and of ſuch a nature, as would have produced univerſal over⯑powering conviction, and have put an end at once to all heſitation and diſ⯑cuſsion. But weak as our reaſon is to comprehend the plans of the Great Creator, it is yet ſufficiently ſtrong, to ſee the moſt ſtriking objections to ſuch a revelation. From the little we know of the ſtructure of the human underſtanding, we muſt be convinced, that an overpowering conviction of this kind, inſtead of tending to the improve⯑ment and moral amelioration of man, would act like the touch of a tor⯑pedo on all intellectual exertion, and [386] would almoſt put at end to the exiſt⯑ence of virtue. If the ſcriptural denun⯑ciations of eternal puniſhment were brought home with the ſame certainty to every man's mind, as that the night will follow the day, this one vaſt and gloomy idea would take ſuch full poſ⯑ſeſsion of the human faculties, as to leave no room for any other concep⯑tions: the external actions of men would be all nearly alike: virtuous conduct would be no indication of virtuous diſ⯑poſition: vice and virtue would be blended together in one common maſs; and, though the all-ſeeing eye of God might diſtinguiſh them, they muſt ne⯑ceſſarily make the ſame impreſsions on man, who can judge only from ex⯑ternal appearances. Under ſuch a diſ⯑penſation, it is difficult to conceive how human beings could be formed to [387] a deteſtation of moral evil, and a love and admiration of God, and of moral excellence.

Our ideas of virtue and vice are not, perhaps, very accurate and well-de⯑fined; but few, I think, would call an action really virtuous, which was per⯑formed ſimply and ſolely from the dread of a very great puniſhment, or the ex⯑pectation of a very great reward. The fear of the Lord is very juſtly ſaid to be the beginning of wiſdom; but the end of wiſdom is the love of the Lord, and the admiration of moral good. The denunciations of future puniſhment, contained in the ſcripures, ſeem to be well calculated to arreſt the progreſs of the vicious, and awaken the attention of the careleſs; but we ſee, from repeated experience, that they are not accom⯑panied [388] with evidence of ſuch a nature, as to overpower the human will, and to make men lead virtuous lives with vicious diſpoſitions, merely from a dread of hereafter. A genuine faith, by which I mean, a faith that ſhews itſelf in all the virtues of a truly chriſtian life, may generally be conſidered as an indica⯑tion of an amiable and virtuous diſpo⯑ſition, operated upon more by love than by pure unmixed fear.

When we reflect on the temptations to which man muſt neceſſarily be ex⯑poſed in this world, from the ſtructure of his frame, and the operation of the laws of nature; and the conſequent moral certainty, that many veſſels will come out of this mighty creative fur⯑nace in wrong ſhapes; it is perfectly impoſsible to conceive, that any of theſe [389] creatures of God's hand can be con⯑demned to eternal ſuffering. Could we once admit ſuch an idea, all our natural conceptions of goodneſs and juſ⯑tice would be completely overthrown; and we could no longer look up to God as a merciful and righteous Being. But the doctrine of life and immorta⯑lity which was brought to light by the goſpel, the doctrine that the end of righteouſneſs is everlaſting life, but that the wages of ſin are death, is in every reſ⯑pect juſt and merciful, and worthy of the Great Creator. Nothing can ap⯑pear more conſonant to our reaſon, than that thoſe beings which come out of the creative proceſs of the world in lovely and beautiful forms, ſhould be crowned with immortality; while thoſe which come out miſhapen, thoſe whoſe minds are not ſuited to a purer and [390] happier ſtate of exiſtence, ſhould periſh, and be condemned to mix again with their original clay. Eternal condemna⯑tion of this kind may be conſidered as a ſpecies of eternal puniſhment; and it is not wonderful that it ſhould be repreſented, ſometimes, under images of ſuffering. But life and death, ſalva⯑tion and deſtruction, are more frequently oppoſed to each other in the New Teſ⯑tament, than happineſs and miſery. The Supreme Being would appear to us in a very different view, if we were to conſider him as purſuing the creatures that had offended him with eternal hate and torture, inſtead of merely con⯑demning to their original inſenſibility thoſe beings, that, by the operation of general laws, had not been formed with qualities ſuited to a purer ſtate of hap⯑pineſs.

[391] Life is, generally ſpeaking, a bleſsing independent of a future ſtate. It is a gift which the vicious would not always be ready to throw away, even if they had no fear of death. The partial pain, therefore, that is inflicted by the Su⯑preme Creator, while he is forming num⯑berleſs beings to a capacity of the higheſt enjoyments, is but as the duſt of the balance in compariſon of the hap⯑pineſs that is communicated; and we have every reaſon to think, that there is no more evil in the world, than what is abſolutely neceſſary as one of the ingredients in the mighty proceſs.

The ſtriking neceſsity of general laws for the formation of intellect, will not in any reſpect be contradicted by one or two exceptions; and theſe evidently not intended for partial purpoſes, but [392] calculated to operate upon a great part of mankind, and through many ages. Upon the idea that I have given of the formation of mind, the infringe⯑ment of the general laws of nature, by a divine revelation, will appear in the light of the immediate hand of God mixing new ingredients in the mighty maſs, ſuited to the particular ſtate of the proceſs, and calculated to give riſe to a new and powerful train of impreſsions, tending to purify, exalt, and improve the human mind. The miracles that accompanied theſe reve⯑lations when they had once excited the attention of mankind, and rendered it a matter of moſt intereſting diſcuſsion, whether the doctrine was from God or man, had performed their part, had an⯑ſwered the purpoſe of the Creator; and theſe communications of the divine will were afterwards left to make their [393] way by their own intrinſic excellence; and by operating as moral motives, gra⯑dually to influence and improve, and not to overpower and ſtagnate the fa⯑culties of man.

It would be, undoubtedly, preſump⯑tuous to ſay, that the Supreme Being could not poſsibly have effected his purpoſe in any other way than that which he has choſen; but as the re⯑velation of the divine will, which we poſſeſs, is attended with ſome doubts and difficulties; and as our reaſon points out to us the ſtrongeſt objections to a revelation, which would force imme⯑diate, implicit, univerſal belief; we have ſurely juſt cauſe to think that theſe doubts and difficulties are no ar⯑gument againſt the divine origin of the ſcriptures; and that the ſpecies of evi⯑dence which they poſſeſs is beſt ſuited [394] to the improvement of the human fa⯑culties, and the moral amelioration of mankind.

The idea that the impreſsions and excitements of this world are the in⯑ſtruments with which the Supreme Be⯑ing forms matter into mind; and that the neceſsity of conſtant exertion to avoid evil, and to purſue good, is the principal ſpring of theſe impreſsions and excitements, ſeems to ſmooth many of the difficulties that occur in a contem⯑plation of human life; and appears to me, to give a ſatisfactory reaſon for the exiſtence of natural and moral evil; and, conſequently, for that part of both, and it certainly is not a very ſmall part, which ariſes from the principle of population. But, though upon this ſup⯑poſition, it ſeems highly improbable, that evil ſhould ever be removed from [395] the world; yet it is evident, that this impreſsion would not anſwer the appa⯑rent purpoſe of the Creator; it would not act ſo powerfully as an excitement to exertion, if the quantity of it did not diminiſh or increaſe, with the acti⯑vity or the indolence of man. The continual variations in the weight, and in the diſtribution of this preſſure, keep alive a conſtant expectation of throw⯑ing it off.

Evil exiſts in the world, not to create deſpair, but activity. We are not pa⯑tiently to ſubmit to it, but to exert ourſelves to avoid it. It is not only the intereſt, but the duty of every in⯑dividual, to uſe his utmoſt efforts to remove evil from himſelf, and from as large a circle as he can influence; [396] and the more he exerciſes himſelf in this duty, the more wiſely he directs his efforts, and the more ſucceſsful theſe efforts are; the more he will probably improve and exalt his own mind, and the more completely does he appear to fulfil the will of his Creator.