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diff --git a/76102-0.txt b/76102-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..66f967b --- /dev/null +++ b/76102-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8066 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76102 *** + + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Transcriber’s Note: + +This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. +Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. On each title +page, the phrase “A Tale” was printed in a blackletter font, which is +rendered here delimited by ‘=’. + +The volume is a collection of two already published texts, each with its +own title page and pagination. + +Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please +see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding +the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + ILLUSTRATIONS + OF + POLITICAL ECONOMY. + + + BY + HARRIET MARTINEAU. + + + ——o—— + + + THE FARRERS OF BUDGE-ROW. + THE MORAL OF MANY FABLES. + + ——o—— + + _IN NINE VOLUMES._ + + + VOL. IX. + + + ——o—— + + + LONDON: + CHARLES FOX, PATERNOSTER-ROW. + MDCCCXXXIV. + + + + + LONDON: + + Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES, + Duke-street, Lambeth. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + --- + + THE FARRERS OF BUDGE-ROW. + CHAP. PAGE│CHAP. PAGE + 1. Budge-row again! 1│5. How to entertain 90 + │ Strangers + 2. Being Roman at Rome 2│6. How to entertain 105 + │ Borrowers + 3. Death-Chamber Soothings 35│7. Farewell to Budge-row 113 + 4. Gossiping Authorship 55│ + │ + THE MORAL OF MANY FABLES. + │ + Introduction 1│—— Emigration 76 + PART I.-—PRODUCTION 2│PART III.—EXCHANGE 85 + —— Large Farms 21│—— Currency 88 + —— Slavery 27│—— Free Trade 96 + PART II.—DISTRIBUTION 32│—— Corn-Laws and Restrictions 116 + │ on Labour + —— Rent, Wages, and Profits 41│PART IV.—CONSUMPTION 127 + —— Combinations of Workmen 48│—— Taxes 133 + —— Pauperism 62│Conclusion 140 + —— Ireland 74│ + + + + + THE + + FARRERS OF BUDGE-ROW. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + BUDGE-ROW AGAIN! + + +“Pray open the window, Morgan,” said Jane Farrer to the old servant who +was assisting her to arrange for tea the room in which the family had +dined. + +“Perhaps you don’t know, Ma’am, what a cutting wind it is. More like +December than March, Miss Jane; bitter enough to help on your +rheumatism, my dear.” + +And Morgan paused, with her hand on the sash. Miss Farrer chose that the +room should be refreshed. She was aware that the scents from the shop +were at all times strong enough for the nerves of any one unaccustomed +to the atmosphere she lived in; and she did not wish that her brother +Henry should have to encounter in addition those which the dinner had +left behind. She tied a handkerchief over her head while the March wind +blew in chilly, and Morgan applied herself to light the fire. When the +dinner-table was set back against the wall, and the small Pembroke table +brought forward, and the sofa, with its brown cotton cover, wheeled +round, and the two candlesticks, with whole candles in them, placed in +front of the tea-tray, Miss Farrer thought she would go up into Henry’s +room, and see that all was right there, before she put off her black +stuff apron, and turned down the cuffs of her gown, and took her seat +beside the fire. + +She tried to look at everything with the eyes she fancied her young +brother would bring from the university. She, who had lived for +five-and-thirty years in this very house, at the corner of Budge Row, +among this very furniture, could not reasonably expect to view either +the one or the other as it would appear to a youth of two-and-twenty, +who had lived in a far different scene, and among such companions as +Jane had no idea of. It was some vague notion of this improbability that +made her linger about Henry’s little apartment, and wonder whether he +would think she ought to have put up a stuff curtain before the window, +and whether he had been accustomed to a bit of carpet, and whether the +soap out of her father’s shop was such as he could use. Then came the +odd mixture of feelings,—that her father’s youngest son ought not to +dream of luxuries that his elder brother and sisters had not had,—and +yet that Henry was a scholar and a gentleman, and therefore unavoidably +held in awe by the family. When she reverted to the time, well +remembered, when she upheld the little fellow, and coaxed him to set one +tiny plump foot before the other, the idea of being now half afraid to +receive him made her smile and then sigh, and hope that good might come +of her father’s ambition to give a son of his a university education. + +Before she had finished making herself as neat as usual, and rather more +dressed, she heard, amidst all the noises that came in from the narrow +bustling street, her own name called from the bottom of the stairs. + +“I’m coming, father!—It never can be Henry yet. The postman’s bell is +but just gone by, and the six o’clock cries are not all over; and there +sound the chimes. It is full five minutes’ walk from Lad-lane, too. +Perhaps there is something more to be done at the books: so I will carry +down my apron.—Why, Morgan, it is well I did not throw you down stairs.” + +Morgan’s face, entrenched in its mob cap, was just visible in the +twilight, peeping into the room from the steep, narrow stair upon which +the chamber-door directly opened. She came to say that her master wanted +Miss Jane; that he was in a great hurry, and seemed to have some good +news to tell. + +Mr. Farrer was bustling about, apparently in a state of great happiness. +His brown wig seemed to sit lightly on his crown; his shoes creaked very +actively; his half whistle betokened a light heart, and he poked the +fire as if he had forgotten how much coals were a bushel. He stretched +out his arms when his daughter came down with a look of inquiry, and +kissed her on either cheek, saying, + +“I have news for thee, my dear. I say, Morgan, let us have plenty of +buttered toast,—plenty and hot. Well, Jenny,—life is short enough to +some folks. Of all people, who do you think are dead?” + +Jane saw that it was nobody that she would be expected to grieve about. +She had fallen enough into her father’s way of thinking to conjecture +aright,—that some of the lot of lives with which her father and she were +joined in a tontine annuity had failed. + +“Poor souls! Yes: Jerry Hill and his brother,—both gone together of a +fever, in the same house. Who would have thought it? Both younger lives +than mine, by some years. I have no doubt they thought, many a time, +that mine would be the first to fail. But this is a fine invention,—this +way of purchasing annuities,—though I was against it at first, as being +too much like a lottery for a sober man to venture upon. But, I say, +Jane, I hope you are glad I made you invest your money in this way. You +had a right to look to coming into their lives, sooner or later; but one +would hardly have expected it in my time; though, somehow, I always had +a notion it would turn out so.” + +Jane’s colour had been much raised, from the first disclosure of the +news. She now asked whether these were not the last lives of the lot, +out of their own family;—whether her father’s, her brother Michael’s, +and her own were not the only ones now left. + +“To be sure they are! We have the whole thing to ourselves from this +time. I think the minister will be for sending Michael and me to the +wars, to have us killed off; though I hope, in that case, you would live +on and on, and enjoy your own for many a year, to disappoint him. But, +to be sure,” said the old man, checking his exultation as he saw his +daughter look grave, “life is a very uncertain thing, as we may see by +what has just happened.” + +“I am sure it is the last thing I thought of,” observed Jane. + +“Ay. It is a pretty yearly addition to us three;—two dropping together +in this way: and, as I said, I hope you will enjoy it for many a year +when I am dead and gone; as I am sure you deserve, for you have been a +good daughter to me,—keeping the house as well as your mother did before +you, and the books better than I could myself, leaving me free to attend +to the shop. But, let us see. The room is half full of smoke still; and +you will say that comes of my poking the fire. What have you got for +Harry’s tea? The lad will want something solid, though he be a student. +I remember his telling me last time that no folks are more hungry than +those that have been a long while over their books.” + +Jane moved about like one in a dream, till, the shop-boy’s heavy tread +having been heard in the passage, Morgan put her head in at the parlour +door to say that Michael and a gentleman with him might be seen from the +shop-door to have turned the corner at the other end of the Row. + +“’Tis a pity Patience can’t be here to-night, now really,” said the old +man: “but she always manages to be confined just when we have a +merry-making. ’Tis as perverse as her husband not choosing to buy a +tontine annuity when he had the cash by him. He will find now he had +better have done it. I wish I had thought of it in time to have made it +a condition of his marrying Patience.—Well, Harry, lad! I hope you are +come home hearty. What! You are not ashamed of your kin, though you have +been seeing lords at every turn?” + +“How well Jane looks!” was Henry’s first remark, after all the greetings +were over. “She is not like the same person that she was the last time I +came home.” + +Henry was not the only one who saw a change in Jane, this evening. Her +eyes shone in the light of the fire, and there was a timidity in her +manner which seemed scarcely to belong to the sober age she had +attained. Instead of making tea in the shortest and quietest way, as +usual, she was hesitating and absent, and glanced towards Henry as often +as her father and Michael joked, or the opening of the door let in a +whiff of the scent of cheese and the et ceteras of a grocer’s +establishment. + +Mr. Farrer remarked that Henry would find London a somewhat busier place +just now than he had been accustomed to. London had been all in a bustle +since the King’s speech, so that there was no such thing as getting +shop-boys back when they had been sent of an errand. What with the +soldiers in the Parks, and the fuss upon the river when any news came, +and the forces marching to embark, and the shows some of the emigrants +made in the streets, there was enough to entice idle boys from their +duty. + +“Not only from their duty of coming home,” said Michael. “There was our +Sam to-day,—’tis a fact,—left the shop while I was half a mile off, and +the Taylors’ maid came in for half a pound of currants, and would have +gone away again if Morgan had not chanced to pass the inside door and +look over the blind at the moment. ’Tis a fact: and Sam had nothing to +say but that he heard firing, and the newsmen’s horns blowing like mad, +and he went to learn what it was all about.” + +“I’ll teach him! I’ll make him remember it!” cried Mr. Farrer. “But we +want another pair of eyes in the shop, sure enough. ’Tis not often that +you and I want to be away at the same time; but——” + +And the father and son talked over their shop plans, and prepared +vengeance for Sam, while Henry told his sister what signs of public +rejoicing he had seen this day on his journey;—flags on the steeples, +processions of little boys, and evergreen boughs on the stage coaches. +The war seemed a very amusing thing to the nation at present. + +“Stocks are up to-day. The people are in high spirits.” + +“When people are bent on being in high spirits, anything will do to make +them so. We were in high spirits six years ago because a few bad taxes +were taken off; and now we are merrier than ever under the necessity of +laying on more.” + +“Come, come, Hal,” said his father, “don’t grudge the people a taste of +merriment while they can get it. You will see long faces enough when +these new taxes come to be paid. I hope you are not so dead set against +the minister as you used to be when younger; or so given to find fault +with all that is done.” + +“So far from being an enemy to the minister, father, I think it is very +hard that the nation, or the part of them that makes itself heard by the +minister, should be so fond of war as to encourage him to plunge us into +it. These very people will not abuse him the less, in the long run, for +getting the nation into debt.” + +“Well, well. We won’t abuse the debt, and loans, and that sort of thing +to-day,—eh, Jane!” And Mr. Farrer chuckled, and Michael laughed loudly. + +“For my part,” continued the old man, “I think the debt is no bad thing +for showing what sort of spirits the nation is in. You may depend upon +it, Peek, and all other husbands who have wives apt to be high and low, +would be very glad of such a thermometer to measure the ladies’ humour +by. ’Tis just so, I take it, with Mr. Pitt and the nation. If he wants +to know his mistress’s humour, he has only just to learn the state of +the stocks.” + +“Just the same case,” said Michael, laughing. + +“Not quite,” said Henry. “Peek would rather do without such a +thermometer, or barometer, if Patience must ruin herself to pay for it: +much more, if she must leave it to her children to pay it after her. I +should not have expected, father, to find you speaking up for war and +the debt.” + +“Why, as for war, it seems to make a pretty sort of bustle that rather +brings people to the shop than keeps them away, and that will help us to +pay our share of the new taxes, if we only keep to the shop, instead of +fancying to be fine gentlemen. But I am of your mind about the minister. +If the people are eager for war,—and full of hope—of—of——” + +“Ah! of what? What is the best that can come of it?” + +“O, every true Englishman hopes to win, you know. But if they will go +headlong into war, they have no right to blame the minister, as if it +was all his doing that they have to pay heavy taxes.” + +“Yet he ought to know better than to judge of the people by a parliament +that claps its hands the more the more burdens are laid on their +children’s children. He ought to question their right to tax posterity +in any such way. I cannot see how it is at all more just for us to make +a war which our grandchildren must pay for, than for our allies to make +a war which the English must pay for.” + +“I am sure we are paying as fast as we can,” replied Mr. Farrer. “It has +kept me awake more nights than one, I can tell you,—the thinking what +will come of these new taxes on many things that we sell. As for the +debt, it has got so high, it can get little higher; that is one comfort. +To think that in my father’s young days, it was under seven hundred +thousand pounds; and now, in my day, it is near three hundred millions!” + +“What makes you so sure it will soon stop, father?” + +“That it can’t go on without ruining the nation, son. I suppose you +don’t think any minister on earth would do that. No, no. Three hundred +millions is debt enough, in all conscience, for any nation. No minister +will venture beyond that.” + +“Not unless the people choose. And I, for one, will do all in my power +to prevent its proceeding further.” + +“And pray how?” + +“That depends on what your plans are for me, sir.” + +“True enough. Well, eat away now, and let us see whether book-learning +spoils buttered toast. Come, tell us what you think of us, after all the +fine folks you have been amongst.” + +Jane was astonished that her father could speak in this way to the +gentleman in black, who, however simple in his manners, and +accommodating in his conversation, was quite unlike every other person +present in his quiet tone, and gentle way of talking. She could not have +asked him what he thought of the place and the party. + +Henry replied that he was, as he had said, much struck by his sister’s +looking so well; and as for Morgan, she was not a day older since the +time when he used to run away with her Welsh beaver—— + +“And make yourself look like a girl, with your puny pale face,” +interrupted Michael. + +“Well, but, the place,—how does the old house look?” persisted Mr. +Farrer. “You used to be fond of prying through that green curtain to see +the folks go in and out of the shop; and then you raised mustard and +cress at the back window; and you used to whistle up and down stairs to +your attic till your poor mother could bear it no longer. The old place +looks just as it did to you, I dare say?” + +Henry could say no more than that he remembered all these things. By +recalling many others, he hoped to divert the course of investigation; +but his father insisted on his saying that the dingy, confined, shabby +rooms looked to the grown wise man the very same as to the thoughtless +child who had seen no other house. It was as impossible for Henry to say +this as to believe still, as he once did, that his father was the wisest +man in the world; and Mr. Farrer was disconcerted accordingly. He +thought within himself that this was a poor reward for all that he had +spent on his son Harry, and pushed away his cup with the spoon in it +when it had been filled only four times. + +“Are you tired, Jane?” asked Henry, setting down his tin candlestick +with its tall thin candle, when his father had done bidding him be +careful not to set the house on fire, and Michael was gone to see that +all was safe in the shop. Jane was quite disposed for more conversation; +and would indeed have been darning stockings for at least another hour +if Henry had gone to sleep at ten, like his brother. She brought out her +knitting, carefully piled the embers, extinguished one candle, and was +ready to hear Henry’s questions and remarks, and to offer some of her +own. She could not return the compliment she had received as to her +looks. She thought Harry was thin, and nearly as pale as in the old days +when his nankeen frock and drab beaver matched his complexion. + +Henry had been studying hard; and he acknowledged that his mind had been +anxious of late. It was so strange that nothing had been said to him +respecting his destination in life, that he could not help speculating +on the future more than was quite good for health and spirits. Could +Jane give him any idea what his father’s intentions were? + +Henry now looked so boyish, with feet on fender, and fingers busy with +an unemployed knitting-needle, that Jane’s ancient familiarity began to +return. She hoped there were no matrimonial thoughts at the bottom of +Henry’s anxiety about the future. + +“Must no man be anxious about his duties and his prospects till he +thinks of marrying, Jane? But why have you hopes and fears about it?” + +“Because I am sure my father will not hear of such a thing as your +marrying. You know how steady he is when he once makes up his mind.” + +Henry glanced up in his sister’s face, and away again when he saw that +she met his eye. She continued, + +“I am not speaking of my own case in particular; but he has expressed +his will to Michael, very plainly, and told him what sort of connexion +he must make if he marries at all. And Michael has in consequence given +up all talk of marriage with a young woman he had promised himself to.” + +“Given up the connexion! A grown man like Michael give up the woman he +had engaged himself to, at another man’s bidding! How can he sit +laughing as he did to-night?” + +“I did not say he had given up the connexion,” replied Jane, very +quietly; “but he has given up all talk of marriage. So you see——” + +“I see I shall have nothing to say to my father on this part of the +subject of settling in life. But you, Jane,—what are you doing and +thinking of? My father knows that he is on safer ground with you than he +can be with his sons. How is it with you, sister?” + +“What you say is very true. If he chooses to speak for his daughter, +keeping her in the dark all the while, what can she do but make herself +content to be in the dark, and turn her mind upon something else? If +mine is too full of one object or another, I hope God will be merciful +with me, since I have been under another’s bidding all my days.” + +“It _is_ hard—very hard.” + +“It is hard that others,—that Morgan, and I dare say Michael, should +know more of what has been said and written in my name than I do myself. +Yes, Morgan. It is from her that I know——” + +“About Peek? That he wanted you before he thought of Patience?” + +“Not only that. Patience is welcome to her lot,—though I do not see what +need have prevented her taking my place at the books, if my father had +not made up his mind to keep me by him. But that is nothing in +comparison with—some other things that have been done in my name; the +treating a friend as if he were an impostor, and I a royal princess; +while, all the time, I had no such proud thoughts myself, God knows.” + +“How came Morgan to tell you anything about it?” cried Henry, eager to +find some one on whom to vent the indignation that he was unwilling to +express in relation to his father. + +“Morgan was made a friend of by that person; and she is the kindest +friend I have, you may believe it, Henry. She would have upheld me in +anything I might have chosen to do or to say. But I was doubtful whether +it was not too late then; and altogether I fancy it was best to get on +as I did for a time. And now I am settled to my lot, you see, and grown +into it. I am fully satisfied now with my way of life; and it is not +likely to change.” + +“Do you mean that you expect to keep the books, and be a thrifty +housewife, as long as you live? If it was necessary, well and good. But +my father must be enormously rich.” + +Jane shook her head as she carefully mended the fire, and observed that +the times were such as to alarm the wealthiest. While her brother made +inquiries about the business, and her share of profit for her toils, she +answered with her habitual caution, and made no communication about the +increased income which the three members of the family would receive in +consequence of the deaths of which she had this afternoon heard. + +“So you have no idea,” said Henry, “how long I am to remain here, and +what I am to do next?” + +“Ah! indeed I am afraid you will hardly know what to do with your days +here, Henry. I have been thinking what can be managed as to that. You +see we have no books but the one shelf-full that you have read many +times already. And we have no friends; and we dine so early; and the +house itself, I am afraid, is the kind of thing you have been little +used to. You may speak out to me more than you liked to do to my +father.” + +Henry was looking about him with a half smile, and owned that the +slanting glass between the windows did not appear quite so grand a +mirror as when he looked up into it fearfully, in his childhood, +wondering by what magic the straight floor could be made to look so like +a very steep carpeted hill. He then thought that no entertainment could +be grander than the new year’s eve, when Mr. Jerry Hill and his brother +used to come to drink punch, and were kind enough to take each a boy +between his knees. But now, it seemed as if there would be barely room +for Mr. Jerry Hill and his brother to turn themselves round in this very +same parlour. + +They would never spend another new year’s eve here! They were dead! How? +When? Where? The news only arrived this day! and his father and Michael +so merry! Henry could not understand this. + +“But, Jane, do not trouble your head about what amusement I am to find +at home. If it comes to that, I can sit in my old place in the +window-seat and read, let the carts clatter and the sashes rattle as +they may. What I want to know is how I am to employ myself. I shall not +live idly, as you may suppose. I will not accept of food and clothes, to +be led about for a show as my father’s learned son that was bred up at +the university.” + +“Certainly not,” said Jane, uneasily. “Perhaps in two or three days +something may turn up to settle the matter. I dare say you had rather go +back to college than do anything else?” + +No. Henry now fell into praises of the life of a country clergyman, +living in just such a parsonage as he saw at Allansford, when he was +staying there with his friend, John Stephens. + +“Are there any ladies at Mr. Stephens’s?” inquired Jane. + +“Mrs. Stephens and her daughter, and a friend of Miss Stephens’s. Ah! +that is just the kind of settlement that I should like; and how easily +my father might, if he would—But, as you say, a few days will show; and +I will have patience till then. I cannot conceive what made him send for +me, unless he has something in view.” + +Jane knitted in silence. + +“Will you go with me to-morrow morning, Jane, to see poor Patience?” + +Jane could not be spared in the mornings; but she could step over before +dark in the evening, and should be glad to introduce to Henry some of +his new nephews and nieces; there having been two brace of twins since +Harry had crossed the threshold. Harry thought Peek was a very dutiful +king’s man. He not only raised taxes wherewith to carry on the king’s +wars, but reared men to fight in them. + +“Why, Morgan,” said he, “I thought you had gone to bed without bestowing +a word on me. Cannot you sit down with us for five minutes?” + +Morgan set down the little tray with hot water and a bottle of home-made +wine, which she had brought unbidden and half fearfully. She was +relieved by seeing her mistress bring out the sugar and glasses +cheerfully from the cupboard, and invite her brother to help himself. He +did so when he had filled a glass for Morgan. + +When the candlewicks had grown long, and the fire had fallen low, so +prodigious a knocking was heard overhead as nearly prevented Morgan from +carrying her last mouthful straight to its destination. Mr. Farrer had +heard their voices on waking from his first sleep, and had no idea of +thoughtless young people wasting his coals and candles in such an idle +way,—as if they could not talk by day-light! The glasses were deposited +so carefully as to make no jingle; the slender candles were once more +lighted, and Henry found time just to assure his sister, in a whisper, +that he had not seen a truer lady than Morgan since they had last +parted. He picked out one favourite volume from the single row of books, +to carry to his chamber; shook hands with his sister, and edged his way +up the narrow stairs. As he found that the room seemed made to forbid +all reading, unless it were in bed, he left his book unopened till the +morning. It was the first volume of poetry that he had ever studied; but +as the window-curtain was puffed to and fro, and a cutting draught +entered under the door, and the whole room was divided between the two, +he put out his flaring candle, and lay thinking poetry instead of +reading it, while the gleams on the ceiling, and the drowsy sounds from +below, called up visions of his childhood, which at last insensibly +mingled with those of sleep. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + BEING ROMAN AT ROME. + + +Morgan need not have exercised her old office of calling Henry the next +morning. Her knock was heard at the accustomed hour; but Henry had been +wakened long before by horns, bells, cries, and rumbling, which seemed +to proceed from “above, about, and underneath,” and which made him +wonder how, in his childhood, he could find it as difficult to open his +eyes when told that the day was come, as to be persuaded to go to bed +when he had laid hold of a new book. A certain childish question of +Henry’s was held in mirthful remembrance by his family, and brought up +by his father every time that he showed his face at home,—“Why must one +go to bed? One no sooner goes to bed than one has to get up again.” Such +a happy oblivion of the many intervening hours was no longer found +practicable in the little apartment that shook with every passing +waggon; and how it could ever have been attained was at least as great a +mystery now as the perpetual motion. “Well, Harry,” said his father, +“what a pity you should have troubled yourself to pull off your clothes, +as you had to put them on again directly! Hey? But I thought you were of +the same mind last night, by the time you sat up. What kept you up so +late?” + +“We had a great deal to say, father, after such a long absence. Jane had +but little time for writing letters, you know, while I was away.” + +“I think you might have your talk by daylight. What are you going to do +with yourself to-day?” + +There was no lack of something to do this first day. First, there was +seeing the shop,—being shown the new contrivance for obtaining half a +foot more room behind the counter, and the better plan for securing the +till, and the evidence of Michael’s pretty taste in the shape of a +yellow lamb of spun butter, with two currants for eyes, and a fine curly +fleece, which might keep its beauty a whole fortnight longer, if this +seasonable March weather should last. Opposite to the lamb was a tower +of Babel, of cheese, which had been crumbling for some time. But, though +the tower was infested with mice, it was the general opinion that it +would outlast the lamb. Then, while Jane settled herself, aproned, +shawled, and mittened, at her desk, there was a long story to be told,—a +story really interesting to Henry,—of the perplexities which had been +introduced into the trade by the fluctuations of the duties on various +articles. When tobacco was sometimes to pay a tax of 350 per cent., and +then no more than 200, and then, on a sudden, 1200, how should custom be +regular, and the trader know what to expect? A man must be as wise as a +Scripture prophet to know what stock to lay in when there was no +depending on custom. People would use twice as much tobacco one year as +another; and a third more sugar; and a fourth more tea; or would drop +one article after another in a way that no mortal could foretell. + +Why not foretell? Was it not certain that when a tax on an article of +consumption was increased, the consumption fell off in a definite +proportion? + +Quite certain; but then came in another sort of disturbance. When duties +rose very high, smuggling was the next thing; and there was no +calculating how smuggling might keep up the demand. + +“Nor what new taxes it may lead to,” observed Henry. “If the consumption +of taxed articles falls off, the revenue suffers; and if, at the same +time, smuggling increases, new expenses are incurred for guarding the +coast. The people must pay both for the one and the other; and so, the +next thing is to lay on new taxes.” + +“Ah!” groaned the old man. “They begin to talk of an income tax.” + +Whatever Henry’s opinion of an income tax might be, he was aware that +few inflictions could be so dreadful to his father. Mr. Farrer, +possessed, it was supposed, of nearly half a million, managed to pay +less in taxes than most of his neighbours who happened to have eight +hundred a year, and spent it. Mr. Farrer eschewed luxuries, except a few +of the most unexpensive; he was sparing of comforts, and got off paying +more to the state than any other man who must have common food, +clothing, and house-room. His contributions must be prodigiously +increased if he was to be made to pay in proportion to his income. It +was a subject on which none of his family dared to speak, even on this +morrow of a piece of good fortune. The most moderate income tax would +sweep away more than the addition gained by the dropping of the two +lives in the joint annuity. + +“They had better mend their old ways than try new,” said Michael. “If +they knew how, they might get more by every tax than it has yielded yet. +Peek says so. He says there is not a taxed article eaten or drunk, or +used, that would not yield more if the tax was lowered; and Peek ought +to know.” + +“And you ought to know, Mike, that you are the last man that should wish +for such a change,” said his father, with a sly wink. Michael’s laugh +made his brother uneasy; he scarcely knew why. + +“It is a great wrong, I think,” said Henry, “to keep the poorer classes +from the use of comforts and luxuries that they might have, if the state +managed its plan of taxation better.” + +“Well, and so it is, Henry; and I often say so when I see a poor man +come for his tobacco, and grumble at the price, and threaten it shall be +the last time; and a poor woman cheapen her ounce of tea, and taste the +butter and smell at the cheese, and go away without buying any of them. +As long as good management would serve to satisfy such poor creatures as +these, without bringing an income tax upon their betters, it is a shame +there is no such management.” + +“How much more would be consumed in your family, sir, if taxes on +commodities were lowered as you would have them?” + +“O, as for us, we have every thing we want, as far as I know. There +might be little or no difference in our own family; but I know there +would be among our customers. Shopkeepers would wonder where all the +crowd of buyers came from.” + +“And the smugglers might turn tax-gatherers, hey, father?” + +“And there need be no more talk of an income tax,” said the old man; +“let the French brazen their matters out as they will.” + +Henry was not very sure of this, in his own mind. It seemed to him that +the more support the state derived from taxes on commodities, the more +clearly the people would see the injustice of levying the taxes upon +those who were compelled to spend their whole income in the purchase of +commodities, while the rich, who chose to live very frugally and hoard, +might escape the payment of their due share. A customer now came in; and +then the cheese-cellar had to be visited; and then Mr. Farrer wanted +Henry to go with him to two or three neighbours’ houses, where there was +a due admiration of the blessings of a learned education on the one +side, and on the other a prodigious self-complacency about the +liberality, and the generosity, and the wisdom, and the glory of making +one member of the family a great man, who should do honour to his kith +and kin. + +The evening was spent at Mrs. Peek’s. Mrs. Peek was able to receive her +family at home, though she had not yet left the house since her +confinement. She was proud of having a brother who had been at college, +though no one grumbled more at the expense than she did by her own +fireside. She was unwilling to lose this opportunity of showing him off +to some neighbours; and when the party from Budge Row entered Peek’s +house, at five o’clock, they perceived several shawls and calashes on +the window-seat in the passage which was called the hall. One of Mr. +Farrer’s candles was flaring in this passage, and two in the +waiting-room, as the children’s play-place was called, and six in the +parlour, it being Mrs. Peek’s wish to have every thing smart for the +reception of her genteel brother. The ample sofa and two arm-chairs were +ranged on one side, and four chairs on the other. When the door was +thrown open, the party in the ante-room saw two young ladies take flight +from the sofa across the room; and by the time that all had entered the +parlour, five maidens were wedged in a close rank, in front of the three +chairs which were next Mrs. Peek’s. + +They stood looking shy during the introduction, and were made more +awkward still by the old gentleman insisting, as he settled himself by +the fire, that one of those young ladies should come and sit on the sofa +beside him. None of them stirred. + +“Miss Mills, suppose you take a seat on the sofa,” observed Mrs. Peek. + +“No, thank you, ma’am,” said Miss Mills. + +“Miss Anne Mills, won’t you take a seat on the sofa?” + +“No, ma’am, thank you.” + +“Then, Miss Baker, or Miss Grace——. My fourth girl, Grace, is called +after that young lady, Henry;—(Grace Baker is a great favourite of +ours). Grace, my dear, you will sit on the sofa, I am sure. What! none +of you!” (seeing the five edge themselves down on the three chairs.) +“Dear me! and there’s so much room on the other side! I believe I must +go to the sofa, and then Henry will take my seat.” + +Miss Mills looked disposed to fly back again to the sofa when Henry took +his seat beside her, as directed. She twisted the tips of her gloves, +looked down, said “Yes, sir,” and “No, sir,” to all he observed, and +soon found she must go and ask Mrs. Peek after the dear little baby. At +this unexpected movement, two out of the remaining four halfstarted from +their chair, but settled themselves again with a muttered, “Now, how——!” +and then the next began to twist her gloves and look down, leaving, +however, full a third of a chair between herself and the scholar. + +Nothing could be done till Mr. Peek came in, further than to tell Henry +which of the young ladies could play and which could draw. Henry could +only hope to hear them play, and to see their drawings; upon which Mrs. +Peek was sorry that her piano was put away in a room up stairs till her +girls should be qualified to use it; but she rang for a servant, who was +desired to tell master Harry to step across for Miss Mills’ sketch-book, +and Master Michael to run to Mr. Baker’s for Miss Grace Baker’s +portfolio. + +“The blue portfolio, ma’am,” Miss Baker leaned forward to say on her +sister’s behalf. + +“O! the blue portfolio, tell Master Michael.” + +Mr. Peek came in, at length, rubbing his hands, and apologizing for +having kept the ladies waiting for their tea; but it was the privilege +of such a business as his to take, in some measure, his own times and +seasons for doing things; and this afternoon he had been paying one of +his official visits where he was least expected. + +When Jane had stationed herself at the tea-table, with a Miss Mills to +aid her, and Peek had ordered one little table to be brought for himself +and another for his father-in-law, he addressed his conversation chiefly +to the latter, observing that the young scholar’s part was to entertain +the young ladies. + +“You know the Browns,—the way they behaved to my wife and me about our +nursemaid that they tempted away?” said Peek to Mr. Farrer. + +“O yes; I hope you have served them out.” + +“That I have, pretty well! They should have taken care what they were +about in offending me. I can always make out what are their busy days, +and then I pop in, and there is no end of the stock-taking I make them +go through. What with measuring the canisters, and weighing, and +peeping, and prying, I keep them at it a pretty time; and that is what I +have been about this afternoon.” + +“Can’t you catch them with a pound of smuggled stuff?” + +“Not an ounce. They know I would if I could; and that makes them take +care and look sharp. What did you think of the last rummer of toddy you +got here?” + +“Capital! Had Brown anything to do with that?” + +“Not he; but you shall have another to-night, since you liked the last +so much; and Mr. Henry too, if he likes. But I suppose he will be too +busy playing commerce with the ladies? That fine spirit was one of the +good things that one gets by being gentle in one’s vocation, as I tell +Patience when she is cross; and then I hold back some nice present that +I was thinking of giving her.” + +“Aye, aye. A little convenient blindness, I suppose, you find your +account in sometimes; and who finds it out, among all the multitude of +articles that pay taxes? Yes, yes, that is one of the understood things +in the business; as our men of your tribe give us to understand.” + +“I hope you find them accommodating, sir?” + +“Yes; now we know how to manage them. And they are wonderfully kind to +Mike, considering all things.” + +Mike assented, with one of his loud laughs. + +Henry was listening to all this not the less for his civility in handing +tea, and amusing his next neighbour. By taking in all that passed now +and when he was seated at cards, after Mrs. Peek had made her excuses +and withdrawn, he learned more than he had known before of the +facilities afforded to the collector of taxes on commodities, of +oppressing the humble, and teasing the proud, and sheltering the shabby, +and aiding the fraudulent. He felt that he would rather be a +street-sweep than such an exciseman as Peek. At best, the office was a +most hateful one. + +He grew less and less able to give good counsel at cards, and to admire +figures and landscapes, the louder grew Michael’s mirth, and the more +humorous Peek’s stories of how he treated his victims, the small +tradesmen. He would not touch the spirit and water so strongly +recommended, but bore rallying on preferring the more lady-like +refreshment of negus and sweet cake. He roused himself to do what was +proper in shawling Miss Grace Baker; but it was feared by his family +that the young ladies would not be able to give so enthusiastic an +account of him at home as might have been, if he had done himself +justice. It was a great pity! + +“What a clever fellow Peek is; he is made for his business! Eh, Harry?” +observed Mr. Farrer, as they turned homewards, after having deposited +the Misses Mills. + +“He is made for his business as you say, father. What a cold night it +is!” + +“Well; I hoped you caught a bit of what Peek was saying; I thought it +would entertain you. We’ll have him some evening soon; and then I’ll +make him tell some stories as good as any you heard to-night, only not +so new. Do you hear, Jenny; mind you fix Peek and Patience for the first +afternoon they can name next week, and we will have them all to +ourselves. Come, Mike, ring again. It is gone ten. I warrant Morgan and +Sam are nodding at one another on each side the fire. Give it them +well.” + +Day after day was filled up in somewhat a similar manner, nothing being +said of the purpose for which Henry was brought home, or of his future +destination. He soon became more reconciled than at first to his strange +position, not only from becoming familiarized with it, but because +London was astir with rumours of strange events abroad, and with +speculations on what curious chapters in the history of nations were +about to be presented for men’s reading. Mr. Farrer made no objection to +his son’s disappearance during the greater part of the day, as he was +sure of bringing home all the news at the end of it. Sometimes he fell +in with a procession going to plant the tree of liberty on Kennington +Common; sometimes he had interesting tales to tell of the misfortunes of +the emigrants, whom his father ceased for the time to compare to locusts +devouring the fruits of the land, or to the wasps that swarmed among his +sugars in summer. Henry could bring the latest tidings of the progress +of the riots in the country on account of the high price of food, and of +certain trials for sedition in which his heart seemed to be deeply +engaged, though he let his father rail on at the traitors who encouraged +the people to think that governments could do wrong. Henry saw all the +reviews, and heard of all the embarkations of soldiers, and could tell +how many new clerks were taken on at the Bank, and what a demand there +was for servants at the government offices, and what spirits every body +was in at Portsmouth and Birmingham, while no one knew what was to be +done with the poor wretches who tried an ineffectual riot in the +manufacturing districts from time to time. All this passed with Mr. +Farrer for a very natural love of news, and was approved in as far as it +enabled him to say to his superior customers, “My son who was at the +University hears this,” or says that, or knows the other. But Jane saw +that Henry the student was not interested in these vast movements of +humanity as a mere amusement to pass the time. Not in pursuit of mere +amusement was he often without food from breakfast-time till he returned +by lamp-light. Not in pursuit of mere amusement was he sometimes content +to be wet through twice in a day; sometimes feverish with excitement, +and sometimes so silent that she left him unquestioned to the deep +emotions that were stirring within. She occasionally wondered whether he +had any thoughts of entering the army. If he was really anxious to be +doing something, this seemed a ready means; yet she had some suspicion +that his patriotism was not of a kind to show itself in that way; and +that if he fought at all, it would not be to avenge the late French +King. However it might be, Jane felt her affection for this brother grow +with her awe of his mysterious powers and tastes. She listened for his +step when he was absent; intimated her dissent from any passing censure +upon him uttered by his father; saw that dry shoes were always ready for +him when he came in; received gratefully all that he had to tell her, +and asked no questions. She struggled with all the might that was to +prove at last too feeble a barrier to a devastating passion, against the +daily thoughts of food eaten and clothes worn by one who was earning +nothing; satisfied herself that though Henry was no longer enjoying the +advantages of college, he was living more cheaply than he could do +there; and trusted, on the whole, that this way of life might continue +some time. + +One morning, Michael’s cup of tea having stood till it was cold, the +discovery was made that Michael was not at home. Mr. Farrer dropped, +with apparent carelessness, the news that he would not return for two or +three days; and when Jane had helped herself to the cold tea, in order +that it might not be wasted, nobody seemed to think more of the matter. + +Half an hour after breakfast, before Henry had closed a certain pocket +volume in Greek which he had been observed to read in at all odd times, +Mr. Farrer put his head in at the parlour-door, with + +“I say, Harry, we are very busy in the shop to-day, and Mike away.” + +“Indeed, sir! Shall I go out and find somebody to help you?” + +“Very pretty! And you sitting here with nothing to do! Come yourself; I +will help you to find Mike’s apron.” + +Henry first laughed, and then, after an instant’s hesitation, pocketed +his book, and followed his father. While he was somewhat awkwardly tying +on his apron, his sister saw him through the tiny window which gave her, +in her retirement a view of the shop; and she called out to know what he +was doing. + +“I am going to try to cut bacon and weigh butter as well as Michael.” + +“Is it your own fancy?” + +“My father put it into my head; but it is my own will to do it till +Michael comes back.” + +There was no more to be said; but Jane reddened all over; and when she +saw the first customer come in, and Mr. Farrer stand over Henry to see +him guess at the weight of soap required, Jane lost all power of casting +up the column of figures over which her pen was suspended. + +It was told in many a neighbour’s house that day that there was a new +shopman at Farrer’s, who was dead-slow at tying up parcels, and hacked +sadly at the cheese, as if he did not know an ounce from a pound at +sight. Henry was not aware how far he was from being worthy to rival +Michael. It requires some practice to achieve the peculiar twirl and +jerk with which an adroit shopman ties up and delivers a parcel to a +fair dealer; and Henry knew nothing yet of the art of joking with the +maidens and coaxing the matrons among his customers. + +When weary, sick, and inwardly troubled to a degree for which he could +scarcely account, he came in from seeing that the shutters were properly +closed, and from purifying himself from the defilements of the counter, +his father hailed him with, + +“Well done, Harry! You will do very well soon, and make up for the +cheese you have crumbled to-day. You will manage not to spill so much +sugar to-morrow, perhaps. And by the end of the year, we shall see what +sort of a younger partner’s share we can afford you.” + +“You do not mean that I am to spend a whole year as I have spent to-day, +father?” + +“Indeed but I do, though; and as many more years as you have to live. My +father made his fortune in this same business, and I mean my sons to do +the same.” + +Henry answered by handing his father the candle to light his pipe. + +“I say, Harry,” the old man resumed, after a long silence, “you go into +the shop to-morrow morning.” + +“Certainly; till Michael comes back; if, as you said this morning, he +returns before the end of the week.” + +“And after he comes back. He will put you in the way better than I can, +you’ll find.” + +“After he comes back, I hope to find means of using the education you +have given me, father. It would be all lost if I were to be a grocer.” + +Mr. Farrer could see nothing but loss in following any other occupation, +and ingratitude in hesitating to accept a provision which would enable +Henry to become, like his brother and sisters, a public creditor on very +advantageous terms. He let his son more into the secret of his wealth +than he had ever done before; and when he found this confidence of no +avail to his purpose, was vexed at his communicativeness, grew very +angry, threw down his pipe, and ordered the family to bed. + +The next day, and the next, all went on so smoothly in the shop that +each party hoped the other had relented. On the Friday evening, Michael +returned, in high spirits, his talk savouring of the sea as his clothes +did of tobacco. On Saturday morning, Henry was missing in his turn. +Morgan appeared with red eyes to say that he had gone out with his blue +bag very early, and had left the letter she now delivered to her master. + +This letter was read, crumpled up and thrown under the grate in silence. +Jane afterwards took possession of it; and found that Henry valued his +education too highly not to make the best use he could of it; that he +was quite of his father’s opinion that it was a sin to remain at home in +idleness; that he would therefore endeavour to obtain immediate +employment and independence; that he would come and see his father as +soon as he had anything to communicate, and should be always on the +watch to repay by any duty and attention in his power the obligation he +was under for the advantages he had enjoyed. + +Morgan had no intelligence to give of where Henry was gone. He had left +his love for his sister, and an assurance that he would see her soon and +often. Morgan trusted she might take his word for his not feeling +himself “put upon” or ill-regarded in the family. He had assured her +that his feelings for them were as kind as ever, as he hoped to show, if +occasion should arise. Might she believe this? + +Jane trusted that she might;—would not let his chamber be disarranged +just at present; and went to her place of business to start at every +black coat that passed the window. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS. + + +Mr. Farrer seemed to be somewhat surprised to see that Henry’s coat was +still black and still glossy when he called, as he promised, to see his +family. A vague image of a tattered shirt, a wallet and mouldy crusts, +had floated before the old man’s mind as often as he prophesied that +Harry would come begging to his father’s door; whereas Henry seemed to +have nothing to complain of, did not ask for anything to eat, never +mentioned money, and looked very cheerful. It was impossible to +pronounce him paler than usual; and, what was more surprising, he made +no mysteries, but told all that he was asked to tell. Nobody inquired +whether he was married, and none but Jane desired to know where he +lived. But the circumstance of his having obtained employment that would +suffice for the present was related; and he endeavoured to explain to +his father the nature of the literary occupations in which he was +engaged; but when he had once acknowledged that they did not bring him +in so much per week as his brother’s labours afforded, Mr. Farrer did +not desire to hear anything more. + +“Jane, you will come and see me?” said Henry, when they were alone. + +“My father says you had better come here.” + +“Well, so I shall; but you will look in upon me some day? I have +something to show you.” + +“Perhaps you can bring it here. My father——” + +“Oh, he forbids your visiting me. Yes, I shall certainly come here, and +soon. Do you know, Jane, I think my father looks ill.” + +“He is harassed about business just now;—not about the part you have +taken; for he said yesterday that people are better out of business in +such times.” + +“What is the matter? Does his custom fall off?” + +“Very much; and his profits are less and less. Everything is so taxed,— +everything that the common people must have,—(and they are the customers +that signify most, from their number)—that they go without tea and +sugar, and save in soap and candles more than you would suppose; and +besides, all this dearness makes wages rise every where; and we feel +that directly in the fall of our profits. If things get much worse, we +shall soon be laying by nothing. It will be as much as we can do to make +the year’s gains answer the year’s expenses.” + +“That will be a very bad thing if it comes to be the case of the whole +nation, Jane: but I do not think that my father and you need mind it,—so +much as you have both accumulated. It is a bad state of things, however. +Have you seen Dr. Say about my father?” + +“Why, no. I think that he would be alarmed at my mentioning such a +thing; and as I know his ailments to be from an uneasy mind——However, I +will watch him, and if he does not get better——But he looks particularly +ill to-day.” + +“He does indeed.” + +Morgan was waiting near the door when Henry went out. + +“I take shame, Mr. Henry, my dear,” said she, “that I did not half +believe you in what you said, the morning you went away, about coming +again, and going to be happy.” + +“Well, Morgan, you believe me now?” + +“Yes, my dear, I do; and I feel, by your looks, that there is some great +reason behind. Do you know, I should say, if it was not a strange thing +to say, Mr. Henry,—I should say you were married.” + +“That is a strange guess, Morgan. Suppose you come, some day, and see; +and, if you bring Jane with you, so much the better.” + +“Ah! my dear, it would be a wholesome change for her, so much as she +goes through with my master. You may believe me I hear her half the +night, stealing about to watch his sleep, when by chance he gets any +quiet sleep; and at other times comforting him.” + +“Do you mean that he suffers much?” + +“In mind, Mr. Henry. What can they expect whom God permits to be deluded +about what they should seek? Be sure you take care, Sir, to provide for +your own household; but I hope never to hear you tossing in your bed +because of the doubt whether you will have three times or only twice as +much gold as you can use.” + +“Treat him tenderly, Morgan; and send for me whenever you think I can be +of any use.” + +“My dear, there is not a sick child crying for its broken toy that I +would treat so tenderly as your father,—even if I had not Miss Jane +before me for a pattern. I will send for you, I promise you; but it is +little that any of us can do when it comes to be a matter of serious +illness. We brought neither gold nor friends into this world, and ’tis +certain we cannot carry them out; but what you can do for your father, +you shall be called to do, Sir. However, as Michael says, if there comes +a flow of custom to make his mind easy, he may be as well as ever.” + +No such flow of custom came, and various circumstances concurred to +lower Mr. Farrer’s spirits, and therefore aggravate his disease. Within +the next eight months, nearly a thousand bankruptcies bore testimony to +the grievous nature of the burdens under which trade was suffering. +Rumours of the approaching downfall of church and state were circulated +with sufficient emphasis to shake the nerves of a sick man who had very +little notion of a dependence on anything but church and state. Besides +this, he did not see that it was now possible for him to be well against +New Year’s Eve,—the festival occasion of those whose lives had afforded +a subject of mutual money-speculation; and if he could not be well on +this anniversary, he was convinced he should be dead. Every time that +Henry went, he thought worse of his father’s case, however flattering +might be the physician’s reports and assurances. There was no thought of +removing him; for the first attempt would have been the death of him. +Where he was born and bred, there he must die; and the best kindness was +to wrap him in his great-coat, and let him sit behind the counter, +ordering, and chatting, and weighing pennyworths, and finding fault with +every body, from Mr. Pitt down to Sam the shop-boy. + +The last morning of the year broke bright and cheery. When Morgan issued +from the shop, dressed in her red cloak and round beaver over a +mob-cap,—the Welsh costume which she continued to wear,—the copper sun +showed himself behind the opposite chimney, and glistened on the candies +in the window and the icicles which hung from the outside cornice. Many +a cheery sound was in the frosty air,—the laughter of children sliding +in the Row, the newsman’s call, the clatter of horses’ feet over the +slippery pavement, and the jangle of cans at the stall where hot coffee +was sold at the street-corner. All this was strange to the eyes and ears +of Morgan, not only from her being unaccustomed to walk abroad, but from +its contrast with the scene she had just left. + +When she had quitted Mr. Farrer’s sick chamber, the red daylight had +begun to glimmer through the green stuff window curtain, giving a signal +to have done with the yellow candlelight, and to speak some words of +cheer to the patient on the coming of a new day. Mr. Farrer had looked +dreadfully ill in the flickering gleam of the fire, as he sat in the +arm-chair from which his oppressed breathing forbade him to move; but in +the daylight he looked absolutely ghastly, and Morgan felt that no time +was to be lost in summoning Henry, under pretence of purchasing a gallon +of wine. + +Her master had called her back to forbid her buying wine while there was +so much in the house; but she was gone beyond the reach of his feeble +voice, and the other persons who were in the room were for the wine +being bought. Dr. Say, an apothecary who passed very well for a +physician in this neighbourhood, declared that home-made raisin wine was +by no means likely to agree with the patient, or support his strength; +and Peek, the son-in-law, reminded the old gentleman that the cost of +the wine would come out of his estate, as it was little likely that he +would live to pay the bill. + +“You yourself said,” uttered the old man in the intervals of his +pantings, “you said, only last week, that few drink foreign wine that +spend less than their six hundred a-year. I don’t spend six hundred +a-year; and Jane’s raisin wine might serve my turn.” + +“That was in talking about the taxes,—the tax that doubles the cost of +wine. I don’t see why people of three hundred a-year should not drink as +much as those that spend six, if the cost of wine was but half what it +is; especially if they be sick and dying.—And a fine thing it would be +for the wine trade, seeing that there are many more people who spend +three hundred a-year than six. So both the makers and the drinkers have +reason to be vexed that for every gallon of wine that ought to cost five +shillings, they have to pay ten.” + +“Now, Mr. Peek, do not make my father discontented with his wine before +he tastes it,” said Jane, observing the shade that came over the old +man’s face at the mention of the price. + +“O, that need not be. He must have had wine for to-night, you know, if +he had been well, and brandy into the bargain, if Jerry Hill and his +brother had been alive.—But, sir, if you find fault with the wine-duty, +what would you have? There is no help for it but an income tax, and you +don’t like that, you tell me.—Dear me, Dr. Say, look how white he turns, +and how his teeth chatter. He is failing very fast, poor soul!” + +“Confound the income tax! The very talk of it has been the death of me,” +Mr. Farrer had still strength to say. + +“Mr. Peek, I wish you would leave off talking about such things,” said +Jane. “Do not you see that my father cannot bear it?” + +“Why, dear me, Jane, don’t you know that there is nothing he is so fond +of talking about as that that he and I know most about? Why, he is never +tired of asking me about what I meet with in the way of my business!” + +“Well! tell him stories to amuse him, if you like; but don’t threaten +him with the income tax any more.” + +“With all my heart. He shall carry none but pleasant ideas to his grave +for me.—I say, sir, I should think you must sell a good many more +candles since the duty came off, don’t you?—Ah! I find the difference in +some of the poorer houses I go into. A halfpenny a pound on tallow +candles was a tax——” + +“That prevented many a patient of mine from being properly nursed,” said +Dr. Say. “When people are just so poor as not to afford much +candlelight, such a tax as that dooms many sick to toss about in the +dark, frightened at their own fancies, when a light, to show things as +they are, would have composed them to sleep. That was a bad tax: the +rich using few tallow candles.” + +“If that be bad, the others were worse;—that on cottages with less than +seven windows! Lord! I shall never forget what work I used to have and +to hear of about that tax. He must have been a perverse genius that +thought of that tax, and deserved to be put into a cottage of two +windows himself.—Do you hear, Mr. Farrer, that is over and gone; and I +suppose you used to pay a tax upon Morgan that you are not asked for +now?” + +Mr. Farrer now proved himself still able to laugh, while he told how he +never paid a farthing for Morgan before the tax on female servants had +been repealed. Morgan believed herself to be the fiftieth cousin of the +family; and on the days when the tax-gatherer was expected, Farrer +always contrived that Morgan should be seated at some employment found +for her in the parlour, and called a relation of the family. Jane now +understood for the first time why her father was upon occasion so +strangely peremptory about the sofa cover being patched, or his shirts +mended, by no one but Morgan, and nowhere but in the parlour. The repeal +of these three assessed taxes, and of a fourth,—on carts and waggons,— +was acknowledged to be an improvement on old management, however +grievous might be the actual burdens, and the great one now in prospect. + +In pursuance of his plan to give Mr. Farrer none but pleasant ideas to +carry to the grave, Peek proceeded to observe on the capability of the +country to bear much heavier burdens than formerly. Arkwright alone had +provided the means of paying a large amount of taxes, by endowing the +country with the vast resources of the cotton manufacture. + +“And what came of it all?” muttered Mr. Farrer. “There is Arkwright in +his grave, just like any other man.” + +“That’s very true; and just as if he had had no more than his three +hundred a-year all his days. But it was a noble thing that he did,—the +enabling the country to bear up in such times as we live in. For my +part, I think the minister may very fairly ask for more money when such +a piece of good luck has befallen us as our cotton manufacture turns out +to be. I’m not so much against the war, since there is this way of +paying for it.” + +“You forget we are in debt, Peek. ‘Duty first, and pleasure afterwards,’ +I say. ‘Charity begins at home,’ say I. Pay the debt first, and then go +to war, if you must.” + +“Some other improvements will turn up, time enough to pay the debt, I +dare say. When the war is done, the minister has only to find somebody, +like Arkwright, that will make a grand invention, and then he can pay +off the debt at his leisure.” + +“No, never,” cried Farrer, in a stronger voice than Jane thought he +could now exert. “You will see Arkwright in the next world before you +see his like in this. I knew Arkwright. And as for the debt,—how is that +ever to be paid? The country is ruined, and God knows what will become +of my little savings!” + +And the old man wept as if he had already lost his all. It was always a +melancholy fact to him that Arkwright, whom he had been wont to consider +the happiest of men, had been obliged to go away from his wealth;—to die +like other men. Peek attempted to comfort him, regardless of the +frowning looks of Dr. Say, and of Jane’s hints to hold his tongue. + +“Why, all that requires to be taken care of will go to Jane, I suppose, +though some of your things would be more suitable to my wife than to any +single woman. That is a nice mattress; and indeed the bedding altogether +is just what would suit our brown chamber, as I was saying to my wife. +But I suppose Jane is to have all that sort of thing?” + +“Mr. Peek, you will either go away or leave off talking in that manner,” +said Jane, moving away the empty tankard from which he had drunk his +morning ale. + +“Mr. Farrer will enjoy many a good night in that very bed, when we have +subdued the little obstruction that affects the breathing,” observed Dr. +Say, soothingly. + +“We all know better than that,” said Peek, with an ostentatious sigh. +“It is hard to leave what it costs such a world of pains to get. I’ve +heard you say, Mr. Farrer, how proud you were when you got a watch, as a +young man. That’s it, I suppose, over the chimney-piece; and a deal of +silver there must be in it, from the weight. I suppose this falls to +Jane too? It will go on, tick, tick, just the same as ever.” + +Mr. Farrer forgot his pain while he watched Peek’s method of handling +the old watch, and followed his speculations about the disposal of his +property. + +“And do you think that singing-bird will miss you?” asked Peek, nodding +to the siskin in its cage. “I have heard of birds that have pined, as +they say dogs do, from the day of their master’s death. But my children +would soon teach your Teddy a merry ditty, and cure him of moping.” + +“Jane, don’t let any body but Morgan move that bird out of the house: do +you hear?” said Farrer. + +“It is nobody’s bird but your’s, father. Nobody shall touch it.” And +Jane set Teddy singing, in hopes of stopping Peek’s speculations. + +“And there’s the old punch-bowl,” continued the son-in-law, as soon as +there was again silence. “That will be yours of course, Jane?” + +“O, our good friend will make punch many a time yet out of that bowl, +when we shall have set up his appetite,” declared Dr. Say. + +“No, no, Doctor. He will never make punch again in this world.” + +There was a pause after this positive declaration, which was broken by +Farrer saying to his daughter, + +“You don’t say anything against it. You don’t think you had rather not +have the things.” + +Jane replied in a manner which showed great conflict and agony of mind. +She should feel like a child, if her father must leave her. She had +never lived without him. She did not know that she could conduct herself +and her affairs without him. She was in a terror when she thought of it, +and her mind was full of reproach—— + +“Ah! you’ll be marrying, next thing, and all my things will be going +nobody knows where. But as for reproaching yourself,—no need of that, so +far, for you have been a good daughter to me.” + +Jane declared that she had no thoughts of marrying. + +“Come, Doctor, which way are you going? Will you walk with me?” said +Peek, whose apprehensions about the final destination of the property +were roused by the sentimental regards which Dr. Say began to cast upon +Jane, when the conversation took this turn. Dr. Say was in no hurry; +could not think of leaving his patient; would stay to see the effect of +the wine,—and so forth. The old man stretched his feeble hand towards +the doctor’s skirt, and begged him to remain.—One reason of his wish was +that he felt as if he should not die whilst his doctor was by his side; +and another was that he wished for the presence of a stranger while +Henry was with him, and Henry was now coming up stairs. + +“They say I am going, Harry; and now perhaps you will be sorry that you +did not do all that I bade you.” + +“I always have been sorry, father, that I could not.” + +“I should like to know, Doctor, how one should manage one’s sons +now-a-days. Here’s Harry won’t follow my business for all I can say; and +Mike is leaving the shop to take care of itself, while I am laid fast in +this way. He was to have been back three days ago; and not a word have +we heard of him, and don’t know where to send to him. One must look to +one’s daughters, after all—though my father never had to say that of me. +I was in the very middle of counting our stock of short moulds when I +was called up stairs to see him die.—Well, Henry; I have left you +nothing, I give you notice.” + +“Indeed, father, I am able to earn what I want; and I have to thank you +for this. You have given me already more than the wealth of the world; +and I shall never forget it.” + +“I don’t very well know what you mean; but I can fancy about the not +forgetting. I saw a moon over the church there——” + +The old man was evidently wandering after some idea of what he had +observed on the night after his father’s death, and many nights since; +and with this he mixed up some strange anxieties about the neglect of +the shop this day. Within a few minutes, Peek was gone to be a Job’s +comforter to his dawdling wife, assuring her that she could not, by any +exertion, arrive in Budge Row in time to see her father alive; Jane was +trying to pacify the old man by attending behind the counter; while Dr. +Say and Henry remained with the patient. Henry did not choose to be +alone with him, lest any fit of generosity should seize his father, and +cause dissension among the more dutiful of the children. + +A few more hours were spent in the restless, fruitless, disheartening +cares which form the greatest part of the humiliation of the sick-room: +the shutting out the light that is irksome, and then restoring it +because the darkness is oppressive; the preparing food which is not to +be tasted, and offering drink which cannot be swallowed; the changing +the posture perpetually, because each is more uneasy than the last. A +few hours of this, and of mutterings about Jerry Hill and his brother, +which indicated that some idea of the day and its circumstances was +present to the dying man,—a few hours of extraordinary self-restraint to +Jane, and anxiety to Morgan, and all was over. + +Patience came five minutes too late. She found the shop-boy standing +with eyes and mouth wide, instead of attending to a customer. He could +only relate that Morgan had just shown herself at the inside door, +looking very grave, and that Miss Farrer had turned very white, and gone +up stairs; so that he was sure his master was dead. The customer was +officious in helping to half-close the shutters, and so obliging as to +go elsewhere for what he wanted, spreading as he went the news of the +death of the rich old fellow, Farrer the grocer. + +Where was Michael? This was a question asked many times before +night-fall by one or other of the household. None could answer it; not +even she who knew most about Michael’s proceedings, and to whom Morgan +condescended to go in person in search of information. The young woman +was as much at a loss as any body, and so extremely uneasy that Morgan +found in her heart to pity her. + +Where was Michael? This was the question that returned upon Jane’s mind +and heart in the dead stillness of the night, when, by her own desire, +she was sitting up alone beside her father’s corpse. She would not hear +of Henry’s staying, and forbade Morgan’s remaining beyond the usual +early hours of the house. + +She turned the watch with its face to the wall, when she had wound it +up; for she did not wish to know when midnight and the new year came. It +was a gusty night, and she hoped not to hear the church-clock strike. +She heard instead the voices of the party assembled in the house that +day twelvemonth,—the little party of friends whose hopes of wealth +depended individually on the chance of surviving the rest. What would +she not now give to be set back to that time! The intervening year had +disclosed to her something that she did not fully know before,—that she +was being devoured by the growing passion of avarice. She had felt joy +at the death of Jerry Hill’s brother, though the time had been when the +bare idea of his death weighed upon her heart for days! She had been +unable to tell her father that she did not wish for what he had to +leave. And now,—what did she desire to hear about Michael? If he had +formed bad connexions,—if he was playing a desperate game with +smugglers,—if he should now marry the mother of his children, and thus +distribute by wholesale the wealth his father had saved, and squander +the large annuity which had fallen to him as to her, from their being +the sole survivors of the lot of lives,—what, in such a risk, would be +the best news she could hear of Michael? She started from her seat in +horror as soon as she became conscious that she had entertained the +question. She uncovered the face of the corpse. She had never before +seen those restless features immoveable,—not even in sleep. The eyes had +never before refused to look upon her, the lips to answer to her. If he +no longer cared for her, who should care? The feeling of desolation came +over her strongly; and when her heart bounded for an instant at the +thought of her wealth, and then sank, as a vivid picture came before her +of Michael struggling and sinking in this night’s stormy sea, she was +completely over-powered. The light swam before her eyes, the corpse +seemed to rise up in the bed; the gust that swept along the narrow +street, and the clatter of hail against the window at the instant, +terrified her unaccountably. Something grasped her tight round the +throat; something pulled her clothes behind; something looked down from +the top of the bed. Shrieks woke Morgan from the sleep which had just +overtaken her, and brought her down in the dark, stumbling against the +shivering shop-boy, who had come out upon the stairs because he dared +not stay in his own room. + +At the sight of Morgan, standing half dressed at the door, Jane became +instantly quiet. She sank into a chair, while Morgan walked straight to +the bed; her first idea being that the old man was not dead, and that +some movement of his had terrified her mistress. When she saw that all +was still, she turned to Jane with an anxious look of inquiry. + +“Morgan, Michael is dead; I think he is. I killed him; I am sure I did!” + +“No, Miss Jane; there is some difference between wishing a man dead and +killing him!” + +“How do you know? Who told you about it?”, asked Jane, with chattering +teeth. + +“There is a light in your eyes, and a heat on your cheeks, that told me +long ago more than you knew yourself. I have seen you grow a child +again, my dear, when every body got to regard you as a staid woman.” + +“No, no; I wish I was—I wish I was a child again.” + +“Why, my dear, what can be more childish than grasping at what you +cannot use, and giving up all that is precious for the sake of what you +grow less and less able to enjoy?” + +“God knows I have nothing left that is precious,” murmured Jane, sinking +into tears. + +“Yes, you have. Even they that did you the cruelest harm,—that turned +your heart in upon itself for their own selfish ends, could not take +from you all that is precious, as long as God makes men into families. +My dear, if you see nothing to make you forget your gold in what I saw +this morning, you deserve nothing better than gold, and I shall consider +you given over entirely. If you do not despise your money in comparison +with your brother Henry and his lady, it is a pity you are their +sister.” + +“His lady! What lady?” + +“His wife, ma’am; I saw her this morning. A pretty lady she is,—so +young, and speaking English that I could hardly make out without the +help of her bright face. And there was her father too, who could not +speak to me at all, though he talked fast enough with his daughter. And +Mr. Henry was very busy with his books and papers, in a corner of the +room where they have hung up a curtain, that he may be, in a manner, by +himself; for they have not over-much room. You will see no gold by going +there; but——” + +“But why——? I am his sister, and he never took me there; and——” + +“You were too rich, Miss Jane, not to want more money; so they waited +till you could not tax them with interfering with your dues. If you had +asked, Mr. Henry would have told you every thing. As it is, he will +bring his wife to-morrow, and you will be all the better friends for +there being no talk of dividing money between you.” + +“Ah! Morgan,” said Jane, becoming calm in proportion as she was humbled, +“you will leave me and go to them; you will leave me to such service as +gold can buy!” + +“Never, my dear. You must have some one to put you in mind what great +things you can do, and what great things you have done for one whom not +even you could make happy, after all.” And she cast a sorrowful look +upon the corpse. “You will want some one to hush you and bring you round +again when you take such fits as you have had to-night; and this one of +to-night will not be the last, my dear, if you keep your mind and +conscience on the rack about money. You will want somebody to help you +to be thankful if Providence should be graciously pleased to lessen your +wealth. And if the worst comes to the worst, my dear, you will want +somebody to cover your sin before the world, and to watch privately for +any fair moment for softening your heart. So I shall stay by you, and +always maintain what a noble and tender heart you once had, up to this +very midnight, Miss Jane.” + +For the next hour,—while her father’s remains lay at hand, and she was +hearing of Henry, and meditating on his story,—Jane felt some of the +disgust at mere wealth, as an object, that is often expressed, but which +was a new feeling to her. Her mind gradually became confused while +contemplating the uncertainty and emptiness of the life that lay before +her; and she dropped asleep in her father’s chair, giving her old friend +opportunity at last to shed the many tears she had repressed under the +appearance of sternness, when to be stern was the truest kindness. She +afterwards preserved a much more distinct recollection than Jane of the +conversation of the night. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. + + +The only article of his father’s property that Henry coveted was the +bird, which Peek had rightly supposed was to be Jane’s. Henry believed +that Teddy had originally been admitted into the household for his sake, +so expressly had it been given into his boyish charge; but he would not +now ask for it the more for this. He would not have allowed his wife to +pick up a pin from any floor of that house, or have stopped a cough, +unasked, with a morsel of candy from the window. But there was one who +remembered how he had begged candy for the bird, in old days, and helped +it to sing, and been mindful of its wants when every one else was too +busy to attend to them. There was one who not only remembered this, (for +Jane had quite as good a memory,) but acted upon the suggestion. Morgan +made bold to carry the bird to Mr. Henry’s lodgings, with his sister’s +love, and moreover with an ample supply of seeds, and a choice bit of +candy to peck at. + +There was it amusing itself, now gently twittering, and now pouring out +its song, as one of the short days of winter closed in, and the little +party in Henry’s lodgings prepared for their evening labours. These +three,—Henry, his wife, and his father-in-law,—were at no leisure to +loll by the fireside and talk of war and revolution; or to pass from +gaiety to gaiety, shaking their heads the while about the mine of +treason which was about to be sprung beneath their feet, the perversity +of the people, and the approaching downfall of monarchy. They were +neither treasonable nor perverse, nor desirous of overthrowing the +monarchy; but they resembled the people in so far as it was necessary +for them to work in order to live. These long winter evenings were +favourable to their objects; and now Marie lighted the lamp, brought out +paper and ink, and applied herself to her task, while her father and her +husband sat down together to compose that which she should afterwards +transcribe. Henry’s literary occupation was not merely classical +proof-correcting; though this was his principal resource for bread. He +was the largest,—almost the sole contributor to a very popular +publication, which, by its talent, and, yet more, its plain speaking, +gave great annoyance to certain of the ministry, much satisfaction to +the opposition, and to a large proportion of the reading population of +London. Henry would have acknowledged to all the world, if he could, +that the work owed much of its value and attraction to the assistance of +his father-in-law, who had lived long enough in England to understand a +great deal of its domestic as well as foreign political interests, and +brought to his task a large share of knowledge and wisdom from his +observation of the affairs of the continent, and his experience of their +vicissitude. M. Verblanc was one of the earliest emigrants to this +country, whither he came intending to deposit his daughter, and return +to be useful; but the march of events was too rapid. Moderate men had +lost their influence, and ran but too much risk of losing their heads, +and he stayed to be useful here till his country should stretch forth +her arms again to welcome such men as he. Henry Farrer had become +attached to his daughter while she was residing with the Stephenses; and +as there seemed to M. Verblanc a strong probability that the children of +two very rich fathers would not long remain very poor, he countenanced +their early marriage, resolving to work to the utmost in their service +till he should be able to recover some of Marie’s intended dower. + +Marie was writing out an article from her husband’s short-hand,—an act +to which she had become so accustomed that it did not interfere with her +attention to what was going on at the other end of the table, or prevent +her interposing an occasional remark. + +“And are the Mexican cocks benefited?” she asked, in allusion to +something they were talking about. “Do the cock-fighters give up their +sport on account of this tax?” + +“The sport is much checked, my dear. The government gets only about +45,000 dollars a year by this tax, so that there cannot be much +cock-fighting.” + +“Well, then, I wish you would put in your advice for a very heavy tax on +guillotining. Where is there so barbarous a sport?” + +“You are for putting a moral power into the hands of government, Marie,— +a power of controlling the people’s pursuits and tastes. Is such a power +a good?” + +“Is it not? Cock-fighting may be checked; therefore may the drinking of +spirits, and the playing with dice. And no one thinks worse than you of +gin and gaming. I am just copying what you say about gin.” + +“But the same power may tempt the people to game in lotteries, and drive +them to engage in smuggling; and tyrannize over them in many ways. When +taxes are raised upon what men eat and drink and use, there may be, and +there always is, a great inconsistency in the moral lectures that they +practically give the people. They say, for instance,—‘You must not use +hair-powder or corn; but come and try your luck for a 30,000_l._ prize.’ +‘If you wish for tobacco, you must smuggle it: but we must make you pay +for keeping yourself clean with soap, and putting salt into your +children’s food, and trying to let light and air enough into your house +for them to live by.’” + +“Well, but this would be abusing their power. Could they not do like the +Mexican people—tax bad sports—tax luxuries?” + +“And who is to decide what sports are bad, and what articles are +luxuries? If there is nobody to contend that cock-fighting and +bull-baiting are virtuous sports, there are many opinions on +fox-hunting, and snipe-shooting, and country fairs, and village dances. +And as for luxuries,—where is the line which separates them from +necessaries?” + +“Ah! our washerwoman looked very earnest indeed when she said, ‘I must +have my little dish of tea—I am fit for nothing without.’ And I suppose +our landlord says the same of his port-wine; and certainly every +nobleman thinks he must have men-servants and horses and carriages.” + +“I do not see, for my part, how government has any more business to +decide upon what articles must be made dear to the people, than an +emperor has to settle how his subjects shall fasten their shoes.” + +“Well, but what are they to tax?” + +“Property. All that government has a right to do in taxation, is to +raise what money is necessary; and its main duty is to do it in the +fairest proportion possible. It has nothing to do with how people spend +the rest of their money, and has no business to alter the prices of +things, for the sake of exercising a moral power, or any power.” + +“Perhaps the meddling would be saved by the government taking the +articles of luxury themselves, instead of taking money upon them. But +they would need large warehouses for all the strange things that would +be gathered in; and they must turn merchants. I wonder whether that plan +has ever been tried?” + +“Yes, in China. The Sun of the Celestial Empire took his taxes in kind,— +chiefly in food.” + +“And so became a great rice-merchant.” + +“And agriculture was improved to a prodigious degree.” + +“Improved! then I suppose there would be a great increase of whatever +good things your government might choose to levy?” + +“Up to a certain point, taxation of every kind acts as a stimulus. But +that point is easily and usually passed. The necessity of answering the +calls of the state rouses men’s industry and invention; and if the +taxation continue moderate, the people may be gainers, on the whole, by +the stimulus. But if the burden grows heavier as men’s exertions +increase, they not only lose heart, but that which should produce future +wealth goes to be consumed without profit; and the means of further +improvement are taken away.” + +“Ah! how often,” exclaimed M. Verblanc, “have the late rulers of France +been told that taxation takes from the people, not only the wealth which +is brought into the treasury, and the cost of collecting it, but all the +values of which it obstructs the creation! How often were they exhorted +to look at Holland, and take warning!” + +“There is a case _apropos_ to what we are writing. Down with it! ‘What +country could compare itself with Holland, when Holland was the empress +of commerce, and the nursing mother of wealth? What befell her? Her +industry slackened, her traffic declined, her wealth wasted, and she +knew, at length, the curse of pauperism. Why? Her own committees of +investigation have declared that this change is owing to the devouring +taxation, which, not content with appropriating her revenue, next began +to absorb her capital. First, the creation of values was limited; then +it was encroached upon; and from that day has Holland been sliding from +her pre-eminence. From the very nature of the decline, it must proceed +with accelerated speed, if it be not vigorously checked; so that Holland +seems all too likely to forfeit her place among the nations.’—Will that +do, Marie?” + +“O yes; but you must give two or three more examples. At least, when I +wrote themes at school, I was bidden to give always three examples.” + +“With all my heart. It would be but too easy to find three times three. +What next, sir? Spain?” + +“Spain, if you will. But one need go no farther than Marie’s own unhappy +country. Would her king have been murdered,—would the people have +defiled their emancipation with atrocities, if they had not been sunk in +poverty, and steeped in injuries, by a devouring taxation? That taxation +might, I verily believe, have been borne, as to its amount; but that +amount was taken, not at all from the rich and noble, but wholly from +the industrious. The rich and noble spent their revenue as much as if +they had been duly taxed; while the industrious paid, first their +income, and then their capital, till the labourers, whose hire was thus +kept back from them, rose up against the rich, and scattered them to the +winds of heaven. The oppressors are removed; but there is no recovery of +the substance which they wasted. The impoverished may now come forth, +and raise their cry of famine before the face of heaven, but the food +that was taken from them there is none to restore.” + +“So much for poor France!” said Henry, writing rapidly. “Now for Spain.” + +“Take but one Spanish tax,—take but the Alcavala, and you have +sufficient reason why, with her prime soil, her wealth of metals, her +colonies whither to send her superfluous consumers, Spain is wretched in +her poverty. The alcavala (the monstrous per centage on all articles, +raw or manufactured, as often as they are sold) must encroach more and +more largely on the capital which is the material of wealth. Under the +alcavala, Spain could not but be ruined.” + +“Except in those provinces where there was no alcavala—Catalonia and +Valencia. They bore up long after all others had sunk. There, Marie! +There are your three examples. We have no room for the many more that +rise up.” + +“Not for England?” + +“England! You do not think England on the road to ruin, my dear? You do +not yet understand England’s resources.” + +“Perhaps not. But you told me of eight hundred bankruptcies within the +last seven months. Have you no practice of taxing your capital?” + +“We have a few taxes,—bad taxes,—which are paid out of capital,—as my +sister Jane will tell you. She knows something now of how legacies are +reduced by the duties government demands. It is a bad practice to lessen +property in the act of transference. Such taxes consume capital, and +obstruct its circulation. But we have not many such. In one sense or +another, to be sure, every tax may be proved to come out of capital, +more or less; but almost all ours are paid out of our revenue: and so +will be almost any that can be proposed, provided the amount be not +increased. With the revenue that England has, and the ambition that her +people entertain not to sink in society, exertion will be made to keep +her capital entire, as long as there is any reasonable hope of success. +We shall invent, and improve, and save, to a vast extent, before we let +our capital be sacrificed.” + +“In the case of your property tax?” + +“Why not? The purpose of a property tax would be to take from us, not +more but less than we pay already; less by the cost of collection which +would be saved. If our revenue now pays the greater sum, it would then +well serve for the lesser; and all the better from taxation being then +equalized;—the rich man thus diverting a portion of his unproductive +expenditure,—to the great relief of the industrious capitalist who now +pays much more than his due share. O, it must be a huge property tax +indeed that would trench upon our capital! Why, my dear, we might pay +off our great national debt of nearly 300,000,000_l._ next year, without +using our capital for the purpose.” + +“Then I think you had better do it before your great debt gets any +larger. Do you think it will go on growing?” + +“Our ministry and parliament seem determined that it shall. Meantime, we +are playing with a Sinking Fund, and making believe to pay off, while we +are only slipping the Dead Weight round and round our necks, and feeling +it grow heavier at every turn.” + +“I think this is child’s play but too much like our poor French +administrations that have beggared a nation,” observed M. Verblanc. “Get +rid of your debt, you wise English; let a Frenchman advise you. If +indeed you can pay off your 300,000,000_l._ without impairing your +capital, do it quickly.” + +“We are at war,” said Henry, despondingly; “and, what is worse, the debt +is declared to be popular.” + +“The time will come when a burdened peace will find you tired of your +debt.” + +“Or rather our children. Even then I would advise an immediate exertion +to pay it off,—yes, even if it should amount to twice three hundred +millions.” + +“Six hundred millions! Was ever such a debt heard of! What must your +future rulers be if they thus devise the ruin of your fine country!” + +“If they exceed that sum again, I would still struggle to pay it,” +persisted Henry. “To be sure, one can hardly conceive of a debt of more +than 600,000,000_l._; but one can still less conceive of a nation being +willing to pay the annual interest upon it. Let us see! I dare say +nearly thirty millions[A].” + +----- + +Footnote A: + + Lest there should be any man, woman, or child in England, who requires + to be reminded of the fact, we mention that our national debt amounts + at present to 800,000,000_l._, and that the annual interest upon it is + 28,000,000_l._ + +----- + +“Ah! that interest is the great grievance. If the debt be allowed to +accumulate, your nation may be subjected, within half a century from +this time, to a permanent charge of interest which would of itself have +sufficed to pay for all the wars from the time the debt began. Yes, this +annual raising of interest is the grievance;—the transferring such +enormous sums from the pockets of some classes of men into hands where +it would never naturally find its way. Your ministers may say what they +will about the debt being no actual loss to the country, since the whole +transaction passes within the country;—this does not lessen the burden +to those who have to pay over their earnings to the national creditor, +whose capital has been blown away in gunpowder at sea, and buried with +the dead bodies of their countrymen abroad.” + +“Besides,” suggested Marie, “if there is no mischief in carrying on the +debt because the transaction passes within the country, there could be +no harm in paying it off, since that transaction would also be only a +transference.” + +“Very true. If all were assessed to pay off the public creditor, there +would be no total loss. And as for the real evils,—the diversion of +capital from its natural channels, and the oppression of industry,—the +remedy of these would be so inestimable a relief, that in a little while +the parties who paid the largest share would wonder at their own ease, +and at the long delay of the nation in shaking off its burdens.” + +“Like the heir who has resolution to sell a part of his mortgaged estate +in order to disencumber the remainder. But who are they that would pay +the largest share?” + +“The richest, of course. All must contribute something. Even the +labourer would willingly spare a portion of his earnings for the sake of +having his earnings to himself for ever after. But by the aristocracy +was this debt proposed; for their sakes was it incurred; by them is it +accumulated; while it is certain that the burden is very far from being +duly borne by them. From them, therefore, should the liquidation chiefly +proceed.” + +“But did not you say that parliament claps its hands at every proposal +to burden posterity?” + +“Yes: but what kind of a parliament? If Mr. Grey should ever obtain his +great object,—if there should ever be a parliament through which the +people may speak, and if the people should then declare themselves +content to go on bearing the burden that the aristocracy of this day is +imposing upon them, why, let the people have their way; and I, for one, +shall wish them joy of their patience. But if, when the people can +protest, and make their protests heard, they call for such an assessment +as shall include all, but fall heaviest on those through whom the debt +was incurred, they will do that which is not only just in the abstract, +but (like all that is essentially just) that which is most easy, most +prudent, and must prove most fortunate.” + +“So you venture to write that down as you speak it,” said Marie. “Will +you let the word ‘easy’ stand?” + +“Yes; because it is used as a comparative term. Almost any plan would be +more easy than sustaining this burden from year to year. A temporary +inconvenience only would be the result of getting rid of it. I question +whether any one person would be ruined; and of the many who must +sacrifice a part of their property, every one would reap certain +advantages which must in time compensate, or more than compensate, +himself or his children. To the bulk of the people the blessing would be +incalculable. It is not for those who most proudly boast of the +resources of the country to doubt whether the thing can be done.” + +“A rich and noble country is yours,” observed M. Verblanc; “and the +greater is the wonder and the shame that it contains so much misery,— +such throngs of the destitute. Enormous as has been and now is the +expenditure of your government, how have you not only sustained your +resources, but augmented them! How have you, while paying for your wars, +improved your lands, and your shipping, and your manufactures, and built +docks, and opened canals, and stretched out roads! And while the nation +has thus been growing rich, what crowds of your people have been growing +poor!” + +“And how should it be otherwise, when the pressure of public loans falls +so unequally as in England? Fearful as is the amount, the inequality of +pressure is a far greater evil. It is very possible,—when we consider +the excitement afforded to industry and invention by a popular war,—that +the capital of the country would not have been very much greater than +now if we had been spared the wars and other wasteful expenditure of the +public money of the last twenty years; but the distribution is in +consequence most faulty, and the future incumbrances of the people +fearful to contemplate.” + +“From your rulers having carried their system of borrowing too far. +There is, to be sure, all the difference in the world between an +individual borrowing for the sake of trade, or profit in some form or +other, and governments borrowing that which is to be dissipated in the +air or the sea, or shed upon the ground, so that it can be no more +gathered up again than the rain which sinks into the thirsty soil.” + +“Why cannot war-money be raised from year to year,” asked Marie, “so +that the nation might know what it was about in undertaking a war? When +my father rebuilt his château, he paid for each part as it proceeded, +and so brought away with him no reproach of debt.” + +“When people are careless of their heirs, love, as rulers are of the +people’s posterity, they find it easier to borrow and spend, than to +make their spendings and their levies agree. When rulers are afraid to +ask for so much as they desire to spend, they escape, by proposing +loans, the unpleasantness of taxing. Heavily as our governments have +taxed us, they have been actually afraid to tax us enough;—enough for +the purposes proposed to the nation.” + +“They were afraid of making the people impatient.” + +“Just so; and the people have shown what the rulers of many centuries +have considered an ‘ignorant impatience of taxation.’ That is, the +nominal representatives of the people have encouraged expensive projects +for which the people have shown themselves unwilling to pay. The rulers +and the people thus appear unreasonable to each other; while the blame +chiefly rests in calling those the representatives of the people who are +really not so. Mr. Grey and the friends of the people are doing what +they can to bring the two parties to an understanding. When this is +done, I trust there will be no going to war at the expense of future +generations,—no running into expenses for which the means are not +already provided.” + +“They who first devised these public loans could not have guessed what +they were doing, Henry.” + +“They never imagined that any one would so improve upon their practice +of borrowing, as not to provide for the payment at some definite time. +If,—as may happen on the unexpected breaking out of a war when the +nation is not in very favourable circumstances,—it is perilous to tax it +heavily and suddenly, it may be expedient to raise the supplies in a way +which will enable the people to pay more conveniently, at their own +leisure. But the period should be fixed when the money is raised. The +money should be raised upon terminable annuities; so that, at least, +every one may know how long the burden is to endure. This is a plain +rule; and happy would it have been for the country if it had been +observed from the day when——” + +“When its system of loans began?” + +“I would hardly say that; for I do not see how the rulers in the +troubled times of the Revolution could have governed the country without +loans. The tax-payers were so divided in their loyalty at the time, that +King William and his councillors would not have been able to raise money +enough for the struggle by taxation, and would only have made themselves +hated for the attempt. But a foreign war, undertaken by an undivided +people, is a wholly different affair; and the advisers of George II. had +no business to carry on the borrowing system.” + +“They found the debt large, I suppose, and left it larger; according to +the methods of borrowers from posterity.” + +“Yes; it amounted, when it came into their hands, to fifty-two millions, +having grown to this since the Revolution, when it was only 664,000_l._ +It is now five times fifty-two millions.” + +“O, make haste and tell these things to your rich men; and they will +plan how soon this monstrous charge may be got rid of.” + +“There is a great deal to be done first, my dear. We have first to +convince them that this debt is not a very good thing.—As long as they +escape paying their due share of the interest, and are aware that the +liquidation must, in a considerable proportion, proceed from them, there +is no lack of reasons, convincing to their minds, why a large national +debt must be a great national blessing.” + +“It attaches the people to the government, perhaps. Is that what they +say?” + +“Yes; as if the people will not always be the most attached to the +government that most consults their prosperity. What can they think of a +government that——” + +He stopped suddenly as Marie put her fingers on her lips, and appeared +to be listening. She ran to the door and threw it wide open,—in time to +hear a shuffling down the dark stair-case. + +“I am sure there was somebody at the door,” said she, hesitating whether +to shut it again. Her father shrugged his shoulders as the cold air blew +in. Henry observed that if the people of the house wanted anything, they +would come again; and Marie therefore, after calling from the landing +and receiving no answer, returned to her seat as before; observing that +it was not the first time she had believed some person to have remained +outside the door. + +Her husband was writing down to her father’s dictation about fallacies +in regard to the debt;—such fallacies as that the parchment securities +of the public creditor were an absolute creation of capital; whereas +they were only the representatives of values which were actually sunk +and lost;—that the annual transfer of the millions required for the +interest was so much added to the circulation; whereas this very sum +would, in the absence of the debt, have been circulating in a more +profitable manner;—that the public funds afforded a convenience for the +prompt investment of unemployed capital; whereas there would be no lack +of good investments for capital if industry were left free;—and, +finally, that the stocks are an admirable instrument for the +ascertainment of public opinion; whereas a very small amount of debt +would answer this purpose as well as the largest. Nobody would object to +retaining the 664,000_l._ of the revolutionary times for this simple +object. + +Marie could not settle well to her employment after this interruption. +Henry forgot it in a moment. He grew earnest; he grew eloquent; and, in +proportion, he grew loud. Nobody came from below, as he had predicted. +Nobody could have wanted anything at the door when Henry was asking so +loudly how it was “possible for the people to be attached to a +government which, &c.” And now, when he was insisting on the first +principle of taxation,—equality,—when he was offering a variety of +illustrative cases, all of which resolved themselves into equality or +inequality,—his little wife came behind him, and laying her hand on his +shoulder, asked him in a whisper whether it was necessary to speak quite +so loud. + +“My love, I beg your pardon. I am afraid I have been half-stunning you. +Why did not you speak before? I am very apt to forget the dimensions of +our room,” and he started up laughing, and showed that he could touch +the ceiling with the extremities of his long fingers;—“I am apt to +forget the difference between this chamber and the lofty places where I +used to hold forth at college. Was I very boisterous, love?” + +“O, no: but loud enough to be heard beyond these four walls.” And she +glanced towards the door. + +“If that be all, any one is welcome to hear what I have to say on +taxation. It will be all printed to-morrow, you know, my dear.” + +Marie did know this: but she was not the more willing that her husband +should be overheard exclaiming vehemently about equality,—a word held in +very bad repute in those days, when, if a lady made inquiries of her +linen-draper about the equality of wear of a piece of gingham or calico, +the shopman would shake his head at her for a leveller, as soon as she +had turned her back. + +“How,” said M. Verblanc, looking tenderly at his daughter, “how shall I +forgive those who have put dread into the heart that was once as light +as the morning gossamer? How shall I forgive those who taught my child +suspicion?” + +“O, father, remember the night——” + +“Yes, Marie; I knew it was the thought of that night that prompted you +to caution now.—The night,” he continued to Henry, “when our poor friend +La Raye was arrested at our house. We have reason to believe that we had +all been watched for hours,—that eyes had peeped from every cranny, and +that ears were planted all round us. I myself saw the shadow of a man in +ambuscade, when a passing gleam from the court shone into my hall. I +took no notice, and rejoined La Raye and my child. He slipped out by a +back way, but was immediately taken in the street; and for words spoken +that night, coupled with preceding deeds, he suffered.—Well may my Marie +have learned dread and suspicion!” + +“No, father; not well! Nay, Henry, you do not know what warning I had +against it;—warning from one who knew not dread, and would not have +saved her life by so vile an instrument as suspicion.” + +Henry bent himself to listen with his whole soul, for now he knew that +Marie spoke of her friend, Madame Roland. + +“Yes, I was warned by her that the last impiety is to fear; and the +worst penalty of adversity to suspect. I was warned by her that the +chief danger in civil revolution is to forget green meadows and bright +skies in fields of blood and clouds of smoke; and that those who shrink +from looking fully and kindly even upon those who may be the reptiles of +their race, are less wise than the poor prisoner in the Bastile who made +friendship with his spider instead of trying to flee from it.” + +“And she observed her own warning, Marie. How her murderers quailed +before her open gaze!” + +“Ah, yes! In her prison, she brought home to her the materials of +happiness; and with them neither dread nor suspicion can co-exist. She +brought back into her own bosom the wild flowers which she had worn +there in her childhood; and the creations of her father, the artist; and +the speculations of her husband, the philosopher; and opened up again +the springs of the intellect, which may gush from the hardest dungeon +walls; and wakened up the voice of her mother to thrill the very heart +of silence; and dismissed one obedient faculty at morn to travel with +the sun, and ride at eve down his last slanting ray with tidings of how +embryo man is working his way into light and freedom; and summoned +another obedient faculty at midnight to paint upon the darkness the +image of regenerated man, with his eye fixed upon science, and his hand +supporting his fellow man, and his foot treading down the painted +trifles and deformed usurpations of the world that is passing away. +Having gazed upon this, what were any spectres of darkness to her,— +whether the scowls of traitors, or an axe hanging by a hair?” + +“Would that all who desire that women should have kindliness, and +domestic thoughtfulness, and cheerfulness, and grace, knew your friend +as you knew her, Marie!” + +“Then would they learn from what quarter of the moral heavens these +endowments may be fetched by human aspiration. Would they behold +kindliness and lightness of spirit? They must give the consciousness of +being able to bestow, instead of the mere craving to receive, the +support which intellect must yield to intellect, if heart is to answer +to heart. Would they have homely thoughtfulness? They must not obstruct +that full intellectual light in which small things dress themselves in +their most shining beauty, as the little fly that looks dark beneath a +candle shows itself burnished at noon. Let men but lay open the universe +for the spirit of woman to exercise itself in, and they may chance to +see again with what grace a woman about to die can beseech the favour to +suffer more than her companions.” + +Of this friend, Marie could not yet speak long. Few and frequent were +her words of remembrance; and Henry had learned that the best kindness +was to let her break off, and go, to carry her strong associations of +love and admiration into her daily business. She now slipped away, and +stood tending her bird, and flattering herself that her dropping tears +were unnoticed, because her face was not seen. Then she filled a chafing +dish, and carried it into the little closet that served her father for a +bedchamber. Then she busied herself about Henry’s coffee, while he, for +her sake, applied himself to finish his task. Presently, even he was +convinced that there was some one at the door who had not knocked.— +Without a moment’s delay he threw open the door, and there stood—no +political or domestic spy—but Jane, with a somewhat pale countenance, +wearing a very unusual expression. + +“We are glad to see you here at last, Jane. You are just in time to see +what coffee Marie makes.—But where is Morgan?” looking out on the dark +landing. “You did not come alone in the dark?” + +“Yes, I did. I have something to tell you, Henry. Michael is home.” + +“Thank God! I hope it is the last time he will alarm you so +thoughtlessly. I dare say he knew all that has happened, though he hid +himself from us.” + +“O yes; there was one who must have known where he was all the time, and +told him every thing; for, do you know, he has come home in a curricle +of his own! The first thing he had to say to me was about his horses; +and the next was——” + +“What?” + +“He is going to be married to-morrow morning!” + +In spite of a strong effort, Jane’s countenance was painfully moved +while she announced this. Henry did not convey the comfort he intended +by not being sorry to hear any of the news. He was much relieved by +learning that that which was by nature a marriage long ago, was now to +be made so by law. As for the curricle and horses, though such an +equipage might be unsuitable in appearance with the establishment of a +grocer in Budge-row, this was altogether a matter of taste. It was +certain that Michael could afford himself the indulgence, and it was +therefore a very harmless one. + +Henry’s cheerful air and open countenance made his sister feel half +envious. He did not seem to dread the risk of her father’s hard-earned +money being spent much more easily than it had been gained. He seemed to +have forgotten what it is to have made many hundred thousand pounds; and +he certainly knew nothing about the anxiety of keeping it. How should +he? + +Marie laughed as she asked how Michael looked in his curricle: it must +be such a strange situation to him! She had never seen Michael. She +wondered whether he looked at all like Henry; and then she sighed. She +thought of the carriages that had been at her disposal in France, and +that she now had not one to offer to her disinherited husband. + +“Some more sugar, Marie,” said M. Verblanc, when he had tasted his last +cup of coffee. + +Marie went to her cupboard, and brought out the little powdered sugar +that remained at the bottom of the last parcel she had bought. She had +tasted no sugar for some time; and it was by very nice management that +she had been able to procure any for her father. She hoped that what had +been written this week might supply comforts for the next. Meantime, +Jane’s entrance had baffled her calculations about the sugar. Henry +smiled at the disclosure, and helped himself to another cup of coffee, +without sugar. Marie would have borrowed from the woman of the house; +but her father would not allow it. His daughter rightly imagined that he +felt uncertain of being able to pay a debt of a mere luxury, and +therefore did not choose to incur it. + +“Ah, well!” said she; “everything will cost us less money, let us hope, +when men have left off fighting like dogs, that they may render +peaceable men beggars. They make us pay for their wars out of our tea +and our sugar,—and out of our heart’s blood, papa, when they make us +deny our parents what they expect at our hands.” + +M. Verblanc wished that Marie could have, during this time of war, the +sugar that was now growing in her beloved garden at home. Beet-root was +now largely used for making sugar in France; and M. Verblanc had learned +that the produce of his estates was considerable. These estates had been +bought in by a friend; and it was hoped that they would in time be +restored to the rightful owner. + +Marie’s scorn was excited by the idea of beet-root growing where her +parterres had looked gay, and where the urns, and statues, and small +fountains, originated by her taste, could have little congeniality with +so thoroughly common and useful a produce as beet-root. She mentioned +one field, and another, and another, which would answer the purpose +quite as well as her garden. As she lightly mapped out the places she +mentioned, Jane’s eye followed her pencil as eagerly as Henry’s. She +asked of M. Verblanc, at length, whether the tenure of land was yet +considered secure in France. + +“Of some lands, yes,” answered he. “If, for example, you will buy our +estates, and grow beet-root, no one will turn you out; and it will give +us true satisfaction to see our lands pass into such honourable hands.” + +To Henry’s surprise, his sister seemed meditative. Marie looked up, +smiling. “Will you buy our lands?” + +“She cannot,” said Henry. “The law is against investing capital in an +enemy’s country.” + +“Is it?” said Jane, quickly. + +“One would suppose you were really thinking of it, Jane. If you want to +try your hand at farming, there is abundance of land in England.” + +Jane muttered that in England there would also be an income tax +immediately. + +“And what of that? If you invested your money abroad, you would not go +and live there, would you?” + +“I am sure an income tax is enough to drive away all who have any +substance. To leave one no choice! To make one pay, whether one will or +not! I should not wonder to see every independent man in the kingdom +contrive to get abroad with his money, somehow or other.” + +“I should. Every person of substance has not a brother Michael, with a +doubtful wife and an ambiguous family; or a brother Henry, living in two +small rooms, with a little Frenchwoman for a wife.” + +“’Tis not that, Henry. But, as I said, this way of taxing leaves one no +choice——” + +“But of paying one’s due share of what ought to fall equally upon all. +Now tell me, Jane, what choice has the man whose family obliges him to +spend his whole income in commodities? What choice have Patience and her +husband, for instance, of how much they shall pay to the state? It is +not with them as it is with you, that you may contribute to the war or +not, according as you choose to have wine, and servants, and a carriage. +The necessaries that you and Morgan consume cannot cost you much, I +should think,—cannot yield much to the state.” + +Jane cautiously replied that everything depended on what was meant by +much and little. + +“Well; I mean that Patience’s eight children and three servants must +consume much more butter, and fuel, and calicoes, and bread, and soap, +and shoes, than you and Morgan.” + +This could not be denied. + +“What choice, then, is left to them? Under the system of taxing +commodities, there is a choice left to those who least need it; while, +if they do not choose to contribute, the poorer, who have no choice, +must bear an increased burden. Oh, Jane! I could not be sorry to see you +contributing as much from your wealth—money,—as the man who makes your +shoes in his wealth—labour! He pays something to the state from every +shilling that passes through his hands. Whether you pay something from +every guinea you touch, I need not ask you. Has Peek told you of the +rhyme that our labourers have at their tongues’ ends just now?” + +“Peek has not; but Michael told me of one he had heard several sing by +the road-side,—something about how they divide their labour between one +and another;—among all but themselves, they seem to think.” + +“It is the same:— + + ‘For the Debt till eight, + For the Church till ten: + To defend the State + With guns and men, + I must work till noon, so weary, O! + Then a spell for the Judge, + And two for the Crown; + Sure they need not grudge, + When the sun goes down, + One hour for myself and my deary, O!’” + +While Marie was pitying the labourer, and wondering how far his +statement was exaggerated, Jane was thinking aloud how willing she +should be to work with head and hands for Church and State, the Army and +the Law. + +“You had rather do this than pay, because your labour is not to you the +wealth that labour is to a poor man.” + +“And partly because I really have not enough to do,” said Jane. “Michael +does not seem to wish that I should keep the books any longer; and I +cannot be making frocks for Patience’s children all day long, so little +as I have been accustomed to needle-work for some time. I wish you could +put me in the way of paying my taxes in the way the poor man does.” + +“And so take the work out of the poor man’s hands? No, Jane. You must +pay in gold, sister.” + +“Is there no sort of work that poor labourers cannot do?” asked Marie, +with a private view to earning sugar and snuff for her father. + +“Not that will serve the purposes of the government, my dear. I remember +hearing, some time ago, of a benevolent lady who was making bread seals +to convert the Jews.” + +“And I,” said M. Verblanc, “of at least twenty gentle creatures who +distilled rose-water one whole summer——” + +“To wash the blackamoor white?” + +“To civilize the Hottentot. But the results——” + +“History does not record, any more than Jane’s feats of knitting, and +other worthy exercises. Why, Jane, when you have the money ready—the +very thing wanted—why should you offer your taxes in any other form? If +you really want to help the state, suppose you raise a regiment +yourself. You and Morgan can make the red coats, if you want something +to do; or, if that is too fearful a service for a peaceable woman, you +can take upon yourself the half-pay of some fine old officer or two; or +you might build a bridge, or set up a Preventive establishment, (nothing +is more wanted just now,) or do a hundred things that would save the +poor labourer’s pocket, and not interfere with his market for labour. +Such a free gift to the state would immortalize you; and, depend upon +it, it would be far better for you than buying French land in violation +of English law.” + +“How they make a mockery of us helpless women, whom they have first made +helpless!” said Marie, while wrapping Jane in her shawl. “We will not +mind them till we have reason for shame at being helpless.” + +Neither Jane nor any one else could feel uncomfortable at anything that +Henry said, his manner was so playful and kind. He was now reaching his +hat, in order to walk home with his sister, whom no inducement was +strong enough to tempt into a vehicle which must be hired. She preferred +walking, she always declared, being conscientious enough, however, to +protest invariably against any one accompanying her; but Henry actually +wished to carry his manuscript to the printer this evening, and the +brother and sister set off together. + +The weather was most disagreeable,—bitterly cold, with a fog, irritating +alike to the windpipe, the vision, and the temper. The glow-worm lamps, +with each its faint green halo, lost their use among the moving lights +that perplexed the middle of the street. Jane had judged rightly this +time in wishing to walk; for the groping on the foot-way was undoubtedly +a less evil than the confusion of carriages. The occasional backing, the +frequent clash, the yells, the oaths of the drivers, and now and then +the snorting of a frightened horse, and the groans of a wounded one, +showed that riding in a carriage is not always the extremity of bliss +that some little children believe it to be. Henry held his sister’s arm +tight within his, and she held her peace no less tenaciously while they +were every moment walking point blank up against a broad man, or a +slender lamp-post, or innocently knocking down a wearied woman, or a +child who was tracing his mother’s apron upwards in hopes of at length +finding her hand. After a while, it struck Jane that this was a case in +which the longest way about would prove the nearest way home. By +striking down one of the small streets leading to the river, they might +escape all the carriages, and most of the people, and get to Budge Row +all the sooner for making a small circuit. She believed she could engage +not to lead her brother into the river; which was the chief peril in +this path. + +“I think there is an opening to the left, here, Jane.” + +“Which way does the fog drift? I think there is a draught from the +right, from the west.” + +“Nay: surely it comes in our faces. No matter! you shall not go a step +farther till I have made out whether we cannot now turn eastwards. Do +stand still a moment.” + +While he was down on his knees, poring over the pavement, to see which +way the stones were laid, Jane observed that it was a shame they had no +more light from the lamps, as they paid for the great new improvement in +lighting,—viz: adding two threads to each burner. + +“It is no fault of any one’s,” said Henry. “We may go on thickening +wicks till we use up all our cotton, and we shall make no progress in +lighting. We must make out some new principle.” + +“What principle?” + +“O, if I knew, I should not have left it to be told now. All I know is +that our streets are not perfectly lighted, and so I conclude that some +better principle remains to be discovered. That is all.” + +“All!” thought Jane. “I think it means much;—every thing,” she continued +within herself, while rapidly following out the clew afforded by this +simple act of faith of her brother’s. + +There was an opening to the eastward; and they pursued it, feeling +rather than seeing that the river lay open on their right hand. They +seemed to have this bank all to themselves. Except a public house or +two, with open door and lighted windows, all was dark and silent;—so +silent, that when three clocks had done striking their long story, one +after the other, the plash of oars was heard from the water. Presently, +there was a little clatter among the boats moored near the margin, and +the walkers pitied the rowers who had to encounter worse perils than +those of Holborn and the Strand. In another instant, they stood stock +still in a prodigious consternation. The yells and oaths left behind in +Fleet-street were nothing to those which now burst forth immediately in +front of them. There seemed to be threatening, struggling, grappling, +fighting,—all in noise and darkness. + +“Back! let us go back!” cried Jane. + +There was no use in attempting it. People poured out of the public +houses, and seemed by their multitude, to drop from the clouds or come +up in swarms from the river. As soon as Jane moved back, she met with a +buffet; and was so pushed about, that she began to fear slipping into +the water if she left the spot she occupied. The only thing to be done +was to plant themselves against a house, and wait for an open way, or +for light. Light came;—a gleam or two from an opened upper window, +whence black heads projected, marvellously exaggerated by the fog; and +then, after several abortive experiments with naked candles, a torch,—a +flaring red torch, which did more execution on the gloom than all the +cotton wicks in Cheapside could have done. + +“A smuggling fray! Those are smugglers. How daring! to come up so far,” +said Henry. + +Jane was making her observations, and correcting her imaginings. She was +scarcely aware till now that she had always fancied a smuggler a large, +stout, grim man, with a bit of red drapery dangling somewhere about him; +a leathern belt; a pistol in his hand, and a keg just before, or just +behind, or just on one side of him. But one of these men was slight and +wan; and another was deformed; and a third wore a brown coat, like any +other man; and none scowled as smugglers and patriots always do in +pictures, but one laughed, and the rest looked vexed or angry in a plain +way. She even thought that the one in a brown coat looked very like a +shopman,—very like Michael. + +Thus much was ascertainable while the shifting light from the torch +danced from tub to face, and from the packages on the shore to the +shadowy boat behind, with still a black figure or two in it. + +“How very daring!” exclaimed Henry again. + +“Yes,” said a voice from a window immediately in their rear. “These are +the days for smuggling frolics. These fellows hold that they are in +favour with the minister, as ’tis certain they are maintained by him.” + +“By his multiplying the customs and excise duties, you mean.” + +“Ay, sir. Multiplying and raising them. The story goes that these +fellows drink the minister’s health first, in every keg they open; and +the saying is, that if the seditious do as they say,—pull the minister’s +carriage about his ears some day,—he will have a guard of smugglers rise +up of their own accord to bear him harmless. But they don’t like the +talk of an income tax, sir.” + +“It is no longer mere talk. The assessment has begun.” + +“Sure, sir, it has. And that may have made them desperate in their +daring, which their coming here looks like. But they could not have +chosen their night better. ’Tis a wonder to me how any body could watch +them. Fudge! What are they after now?” + +A struggle ended in making the torch more efficacious than was +contemplated. A smuggler staved a cask. Whether by accident or design +was never known,—but the torch dropped into the rivulet of spirit, and +it turned to fire. The blue flame shot up, waved, hovered, looked very +beautiful in itself, but cast a fearful light on the brawlers who rushed +over one another to extricate their shins from the flame. Jane saw a +really grim face at last. A man in a prodigious rage had been fighting +with the brown-coated smuggler who was like Michael. The angry man had +got the better of the other, and was now lifting him up at arms length, +with the strength of an elephant, and the ferocity of a tiger. He dashed +him down with a sound that was heard through the din. + +“It _is_ Michael!” cried the brother and sister at the same moment. They +had both seen his face high in the air. They burst through the throng, +and reached the body,—the dead body; for the neck was broken against a +cask. + +As Jane kneeled beside him, in front of the flickering blaze, she +replaced the head, horribly bent backwards as it was, and then looked up +in Henry’s face with kindled eyes, to say, + +“He is gone; and he is not married. He is gone this time.” + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANGERS. + + + + +It was long before Henry could get back. He had to convey Jane home, and +recover her to a safer state of mind, and then to communicate the +intelligence to Patience; and then,—more painful still,—to the young +woman whom he always regarded as Michael’s wife. At the end of four +hours, when it was nearly one in the morning, he knocked at the door of +his lodgings, and was instantly let in by his landlord. He perceived +that Mr. Price looked very sulky; and he could obtain no answer to his +enquiries about whether Mrs. Farrer had been uneasy at his not +returning. He bounded up stairs, and Marie was in his arms before he saw +how pale was her face, and how swollen her eyes. The fire burned dull, +the lamp only glimmered, and there was an air of indescribable confusion +in the room; so that, occupied as Henry was with what had happened, he +could not help feeling almost bewildered as to whether this was his +lodging or not. + +“I thought you never, never would have come,” sobbed Marie. + +“My love, there has been but too much reason for my staying so long.” + +“But there was so much reason for your being at home! Henry, they have +carried away my father.” + +Marie could not tell where they had taken him. She knew nothing of +English law and justice. She had had no one to help her; for Price +himself introduced the officers of justice; and Mrs. Price was so stiff +and cold in her manner, that Marie was obliged to leave off appealing to +her. All she knew was that some men walked in while her father was +reading, and she writing; that they showed a paper which her father did +not know the use of; searched every corner of the apartments, turning +every article of furniture out of its place, and taking possession at +last of a pocket-pistol, of beautiful workmanship, which M. Verblanc +valued as the gift of an old military friend. M. Verblanc himself was +also carried off, because he had not given notice to the magistrates of +having come to live in this place. + +“How is this?” enquired Henry of Price who now entered the room. “The +arrest of aliens, and the search for weapons, can legally take place +only in the day time.” + +“They reckon it day time in this sort of thing till nine o’clock, and it +wanted full ten minutes to nine when they came.” + +“What did you know about this before I went out?” enquired Henry, +turning the light of the lamp full upon Price’s face. + +“Only what most lodging-house keepers know in these days. I was called +upon to give an account in writing of all the aliens in my house.” + +Henry conjectured very truly that the Prices were at the bottom of the +whole affair. Mrs. Price had a very vigorous imagination; and she had +given out among her neighbours that M. Verblanc was certainly a man of +high rank; that he scribbled over more writing paper than any body she +ever saw, except the gentleman that called himself his son-in-law; and +that the writing must be letters, because nobody ever knew what became +of it, and he went out regularly once a day,—no doubt to the +post-office, for he never was known to send letters there by any other +hand. + +Marie was obliged to be comforted with the assurance that this arrest +would be only a temporary inconvenience; that such things were +constantly happening in these days; and that there was no doubt of her +father’s being released the next morning. Henry would go at the earliest +practicable hour, and he did not doubt of bringing M. Verblanc home with +him. + +Before the earliest practicable hour, however, other engagements +occurred to prevent Henry’s executing his design. Price came in, while +the husband and wife were standing by the fire, mournfully discussing +their plans for this day when so much was to be done. Price wished to +give notice that he must have his rent this morning. He had gone without +it too long, and he had no intention of waiting any longer. Henry was +not aware that the time of payment was past. He understood that it was +to be quarterly: but Marie produced the little that she had laid by for +the purpose; and Henry was reminded to feel in his pocket for the +manuscripts that were to have been carried to their destination the +night before. They were gone. His pocket was empty. + +Never mind! This was no time to think about disappointments in the way +of authorship; and, as for the gain,—it was but too probable that Henry +would presently have more money than he desired. Price seemed to have +some idea of this kind; but not the less did he give notice that his +lodgers must turn out at the end of the week. The rooms were already +let; so there was no use in saying any thing about it. Henry could only +suppose that tidings of Michael’s death, and the manner of it, had +reached the house, and that it was concluded that, as the one brother +had been a smuggler, the other must be a swindler. + +Before Price was out of the room, came the printer’s man for the +manuscript which had been lost. While he was still shaking his head over +Marie’s calculation of how soon she could make another copy from the +short-hand notes she had happily preserved, the matter was settled by +the publisher sending to ask for the last Greek proof Henry had had to +correct, and to give notice that this was his final transaction with Mr. +Farrer, who need not trouble himself to write any thing more for the +publication of which he had been the chief support. No further +communication from his pen would be accepted. A receipt in form for the +money now sent was requested and given, and the cash immediately paid +over to Price in discharge of the remainder of the rent. The few +shillings left were, when the husband and wife were alone again, pushed +from one to the other with the strange impulse of mirth which often +arises under the extremest pressure of vexation and sorrow. + +“Marie, what do you think of all this?” asked her husband, meeting her +eye, which was fixed wistfully upon him. + +“I think that if my poor countrymen have their errors, the English have +at least their whims. It is at least remarkable that on this morning, +when there is so much to call you abroad, one after another should come +to keep you at home.” + +“Very remarkable!” was all that Henry said before he relapsed into +reverie. He roused himself, and snatched up his hat, assuring his wife, +however, that it was yet, he believed, too early for him to obtain +access to her father, or justice on his behalf. He had not proceeded far +down stairs when he was met by three gentlemen, who requested two +minutes’ conversation with him. They came to invite him to be present at +a meeting to be held for the purpose of declaring attachment to the +constitution. + +“Impossible, gentlemen. You are not aware that my only brother died +suddenly last night. I cannot appear needlessly in public to-day.” + +And he would have bowed them out; but they had something more to say +than condolence. As his attending the meeting was thus unfortunately +rendered impossible, perhaps he would sign the address to his Majesty. + +“That will depend on what it contains. I own I do not see the immediate +occasion for such a protestation; but if the address should express what +I think and feel, I shall have no objection to put my name to it.” + +The spokesman conceived that, as every true Englishman must be attached +to the constitution, there could be no risk to any true Englishman in +engaging to declare his attachment. + +“Certainly, sir, if we were all agreed as to what the constitution is; +but this is the very point on which men differ. One person thinks that a +dozen or two of trials and transportations of ignorant and educated men +for sedition, and a doubling of the taxes, and an overawing of the House +of Commons, are measures of support to the constitution; while others +consider them as violations. Therefore I must fully understand what is +involved in the address before I sign it; and can, in the mean time, +pledge myself to nothing, gentlemen.” + +The visitors looked at one another, and departed,—one sighing, another +giggling, and the third looking back till the last moment,—like a child +who is bidden to look at a traitor, and almost expects to see him turn +into some rare animal,—a Turk or an ourang-outang. + +This time Henry got as far as the house-door. There he was turned back +by the commissioners who were employed in making the returns for the +income tax. In vain Henry assured them that he had hitherto had no +income, and that, as soon as he could ascertain whether he was to have +any of his brother’s money, and how much, he would let the gentlemen +know. They were not content with assertions given in the street, and, as +Henry had no doubt of finally satisfying them in two minutes, he invited +them up stairs. + +“You are aware, sir, that we are sworn to the most inviolable secrecy as +to the affairs of individuals; that we are empowered, when dissatisfied, +to call for written explanations of the resources of living, and even to +impose an oath, if necessary.” + +“Very needful precautions, I should think, considering how strong is the +temptation to concealment and fraud, and how very easy evasion must be +in a great number of cases. Very necessary precautions, if they could +but be effectual.” + +“Effectual, sir! Do you suppose we shall violate our oath of secrecy?” + +“By no means; but it is impossible that confidence should not often be +reciprocally shaken, when the affairs of individuals are thus +involuntarily exposed. This inquisition is a heavy grievance, indeed, +and it opens the door to a very pernicious use of influence.” + +“Well, sir, every tax must have its disadvantages; and when a large +revenue must be raised——” + +“True; every tax is bad, in one way or another; yet, taxes there must +be. I do not know that there can be a better than an income tax, if it +can be fairly raised, and duly proportioned to the tenure of incomes. If +I find myself soon in possession of an income, I shall offer my +proportion with pleasure; you will not need to impose the oath on me. +But I do wish, as this tax affords the means, as you say, of raising a +large revenue,—I do wish that we were relieved of some of our indirect +taxes. An income tax may be very cheerfully borne when it is imposed +instead of the indirect taxes which fall so unequally as we know they +do; but the same tax may be felt as a heavy grievance when it is imposed +in addition,—filling up the measure of hardship. Now, we have a load of +partial taxes which can be conveniently paid; and also a fair tax,—fair +in principle,—which must be vexatiously levied. Let us have the one or +the other, but not both.” + +“But, Mr. Farrer, you are aware that the evils of this income tax will +be lessened perpetually. We are now just in the bustle and confusion of +making new returns; but when we can establish a system of ascertainment +of the wages of various employments, and the interests upon loans, and +the averages of capital invested by the commercial men in our +districts,—in somewhat the same manner as we can already learn the +rental of landlords from the terms of their leases, and the profits of +the tenants from the proportion profits are considered to bear to rent,— +when this is arranged, there will be much less occasion for vexatious +questioning.” + +“And much less facility of evasion. Very true. After all, this tax is a +violation of a subordinate rule of taxation, while our indirect taxes +violate the first and chief. In fact, it seems to me to violate only +that which regards the convenience of the contributors as to the mode of +payment; while it agrees with the principle,—to equalize the +contributions; with another,—to make the amount, and the time and manner +certain; and with a third,—to keep out of the pockets of the people as +little as possible over and above what goes into the treasury. Whenever +I have an income, I had much rather see you on an appointed day, and pay +my portion as I would pay my house-rent, knowing that what I pay goes +straight to its professed destination, than be treated like a child, and +inveigled into paying a little here and a little there, without knowing +it; or, if knowing it, with a pretty strong assurance that plenty of +pockets are gaping to swallow some of it by the way.” + +Marie thought this was like sweetening physic for a child. She wondered +that, in a nation of men, such devices should be allowed to be still +enacted. + +“We are not yet a nation of men, my dear, because we are not yet an +educated nation. These taxes on commodities are taxes on ignorance. +When, as a nation, we grow wise enough to settle rationally what we +shall spend, and why, and how, we shall grow manly enough to come +forward with our contribution, instead of letting it be filched from us +while we are winking.” + +“And yet, sir, it is the rich, and not the ignorant who complain of this +new tax, and are all in favour of the old system. They had rather pay +double for their tea and their wine than have more money raised in this +new way.” + +“Yes; no doubt. And the poor man had much rather have his bread and beer +bear their natural price, and pay his taxes out of his wages. Thus he is +sure of paying no more than his due; while the rich man will be properly +compelled to contribute in proportion to the protection he derives from +government. He owes so much more than the poor man to the state which +guards his greater substance, that it is most unfair to leave his +payment to the chance of how much wine, and tea, and other articles he +may consume. He cannot himself consume more bread and beer than his poor +neighbour; and it is a matter of choice whether he shall keep servants +to consume much more. Such choice ought not to be left, when the +alternative is the poor man paying the more for the rich man’s spending +less.” + +“Why, indeed, it cannot be justified that the cobbler who patches a +miser’s shoes should pay fifty per cent. to the state, when the miser +himself pays only one per cent. If it be a good rule,—(and it is the +rule on which we proceed, sir,)—that a just taxation will leave +individuals in the same relation in which it found them, the advantage +will be entirely on the side of the measure we have now in hand.” + +“And then comes the question whether there may not be a better tax +still. An income tax is immeasurably better than a system of indirect +taxation; but there may be means of avoiding the inequalities which +remain even under the improved system. If you once begin to graduate +your income tax according to the value of the tenure of incomes——” + +“Why, it is hard that the physician, whose large income expires on his +becoming infirm, should pay more than the fundholder or landowner, whose +income is permanently yielded to himself and his children.” + +“And then, from the fundholders, you must except those who hold +terminable annuities. Five per cent. is a much larger payment from a man +whose income is to terminate in ten or twenty years, than five per cent. +would be from the owner of land. And again; if you lay a tax of five per +cent. on the labourers’ wages, the tax falls upon the capital; for the +wages must rise just so much as the tax amounts to. It follows of course +that the receiver of rent ought to pay a higher per centage, because the +capitalist pays for himself and his labourers too. Now, if we once begin +making these modifications, (which justice requires,) it seems the most +direct and efficacious method to have a property tax; _i. e._, to tax +those incomes which are derived from invested capital. Ah! I see you +shake your heads; I see what you would say about the difficulty of +defining what is property; and the hardship in a few cases,—as in those +of small annuitants; and the tendency,—the very slight,—the practically +imperceptible tendency to check accumulation. We agreed before that all +taxes are bad; that there are some difficulties attending all.” + +“But do not you allow these evils, sir?” + +“I do; but I hold them to be so much smaller than those we have been +submitting to all this while as to be almost lost in the comparison,— +except for the difficulty that there always is in changing taxes. As for +the defining of what property is, distinctions have been made quite as +subtle as between investments that are too transient to come under the +title of property, and those that are not; between the landlord’s +possession of a field that yields rent, and the tenant’s investment in +marl which is to fertilize it for a season or two. Wherever legislation +interferes with the gains of industry, nice distinctions have to be +made; and this case will hardly rival our excise regulations. As for the +small annuitants, though their case may be a less favourable one than +that of richer men, it will be a far more favourable one than it is now, +when their small incomes must yield enormously to the state through the +commodities they buy. As for the tendency to check accumulation, it is +also nothing in comparison with that which at present exists. What can +check accumulation so much as the enhancement of the price of every +thing that the capitalist and labourer must buy, when part of the added +price goes to pay for the trouble and trickery attendant on a roundabout +method of taxation? No, no. While, besides this enhancement of price, +five or six sevenths of the taxation of the kingdom is borne by the +labouring and accumulating classes, I cannot think that our capital +would grow the slower for the burden being shifted upon the class of +proprietors who can best afford the contribution, which would, after +all, leave them in the same relation to other individuals in which it +found them.” + +“It would certainly issue in that equality, since income from skill and +labour would proportion itself presently to the amount of property. The +physician who received a guinea-fee from the till now lightly-taxed +proprietor, would then receive a pound; and so on, through all +occupations. All would enjoy the relief from the diminished cost of +collection, as I hope we shall all do under our present commission, sir. +Well, you will not oblige us to put you upon your oath as to your amount +of income. You really have not an income above 60_l._ a year, Mr. +Farrer? that is our lowest denomination, sir; we tax none under 60_l._ a +year.” + +“If you choose to swear me, you may; but my wife and I can assure you +that we have no income beyond the few guineas that I may chance to earn +from week to week. We have not been married many months; and we have +never dared yet to think of such a thing as a regular yearly income. +Well, it might be imprudent; but that is all over, I believe. If I find +that I now am to have money——” + +The commissioners disclaimed all intention of judging the principles or +impulses under which Henry’s matrimonial affairs had proceeded,—hoped to +hear from him soon, if their good wishes should be fulfilled, and left +him looking at his watch, and assuring Marie that even yet it was very +early. + +“But who are these?” cried the unhappy lady, as two men entered the +room, without the ceremony of bowing, with which the late visiters had +departed. “My husband, there is a conspiracy against us!” + +“I believe there is, Marie: but the innocent can in this country +confound conspiracies.” + +Henry was arrested on a charge of seditious words spoken at divers +times; and also, of not having given due notice of an alien residing +within the realm without complying with the provisions of the Alien Act. + +The word “sedition” sounded fearful to Marie, who had talked over with +her husband, again and again, the fates of Muir and Palmer, of Frost and +Winterbottom, and many other victims of the tyranny of the minister of +that day. Her first thought was, + +“They will send you to Botany Bay. But I will go with you.” + +Henry smilingly told her he should not have to trouble her to get ready +to go so far, he believed; but if she would put on her bonnet now, he +had no doubt she would be permitted to accompany him, and learn for +herself where the mistake lay which had led to this absurd arrest. + +She went accordingly, trembling,—but making a great effort to shed no +tears. In those days of tyrannical and vaguely-expressed laws, of dread +and prejudice in high places, a prisoner’s fate depended mainly on the +strength and clearness of mind of the magistrate before whom he might be +brought. Henry was fortunate in this respect. + +Some surprising stories were told,—newer to Henry and Marie than to +anybody else,—of Henry’s disaffection,—of his having dined with old +college friends who, to the disgrace of their education, had toasted the +French republic, and laughed as the king’s health was proposed; of his +having been overheard asking how the people could help hating a +government which had Mr. Pitt at the head of it, and talked vehemently +with some foreigners in praise of equality; and of his having finally +refused to declare his attachment to the constitution. + +This story was not very formidable when it was first told; and after the +magistrate had questioned the witnesses, and heard Henry’s own plain +statement, he believed that no ground remained for commitment, or for +asking bail. Not a single seditious word could be sworn to; and, as to +any imprudent ones that might have been dropped, the assertions of the +witnesses were much more imprudent, inasmuch as they could in no way be +made to agree with themselves or one another. This charge was dismissed, +and Marie found she should not have to go to Botany Bay. + +The other accusation was better substantiated. M. Verblanc had forgotten +to give the required account of himself when he had changed his +residence, and it had never occurred to Henry to lodge an information +against him, though he knew, (if he had happened to recollect,) that the +forms of the alien law had not been complied with. The magistrate had no +alternative but to fine him, and, as the amount was not forthcoming, to +commit him to prison till the fine should be paid. + +Marie’s duty was now clear. She must go to Henry’s sisters, and obtain +the money from them, in order to set her husband free to assist her +father. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + HOW TO ENTERTAIN BORROWERS. + + +It was a strange way of visiting the old house in Budge-Row for the +first time. + +Sam was standing two inches taller than usual, from being left in sole +charge of the shop. He did not know exactly how his master had died; +and, with all his self-importance, was more likely to receive the +information from the many inquisitive customers who came for pennyworths +than to give them any. Morgan had not thought it necessary to be +explicit with him. She advised him to mind his business, and let Miss +Farrer see what he could do in a time of family distress. He was profuse +in his assurances to Marie that his mistress could see no visitors +to-day. Perceiving that she was a foreigner, he concluded that she was a +stranger, and was very unwilling to let even Morgan know that any one +wished to speak with her. + +Marie thought she had never seen anything more forlorn than Jane’s +aspect as she sat in her little parlour. She seemed to be doing nothing, +not even listening to Dr. Say, who was attempting soft condolence. There +was not even the occupation of making mourning, which had been a +resource on a former occasion. The bible lay open on the table; but Jane +was sitting by the darkened window as Marie entered,—Dr. Say having +established himself by the fire. + +“You will thank me,” said Marie, “for bringing you occupation,—for +enabling you to help us, sister.” And she told her story, and what it +was that she desired Jane to do. + +Jane seemed duly shocked at first; but when she found that Henry was in +no danger, and that the whole case resolved itself into a money matter, +her sympathy seemed to cool. She was silent and thoughtful. + +“Come,” said Marie, rising, “bring out the money; and will you not go +with me?” + +But Jane had something to say; or rather, she seemed to be thinking +aloud. Who knew whether Michael had left a will, and whether Henry would +have any of the money? Besides, she had not so much in her purse; and it +seemed to her that this would not be the end of the business. If there +was a conspiracy against Henry, and his enemies knew that his family had +money, they would soon make up another charge, and nobody could foresee +where it might end. Perhaps the best kindness to Henry would be for his +family to do nothing, that it might be seen that there was no use in +pursuing him for evil. Perhaps—— + +Dr. Say emphatically assented to the whole of Jane’s reasoning. + +“I am afraid of mistaking your English,” said Marie, losing her breath. +“Do you mean that you will not help Henry?” + +“Perhaps some other friend——It might be better for him that some one +else——Henry must have many friends.” + +“Perhaps. But in France we have sisters who have begged alms for their +brother’s defence, and thereby found a place beside them under the axe +from which they could not save them. I thought there was one universal +sister’s heart.” + +Jane called after her in vain. She was gone like lightning. Morgan, +however, detained her an instant at the door. + +“Wait, my dear young lady! They will follow you in the streets if you +look so wild, ma’am!” + +“Then I will tell them how I scorn your London rich sisters that keep +their brothers prisoners for paltry gold!” + +“Do not go, ma’am! Do stay till one can think a little,” urged the +horror-struck Morgan. + +“No, I will not stay. But I will not judge all till I have seen another +sister.” + +“Ah! Mrs. Peek. Go to Mrs. Peek, ma’am; and I would go with you, but——” + +Marie thought this was a land of “buts.” She could not, however, have +stayed till Morgan could get ready. She made all haste to Mrs. Peek’s +house. + +She did not know how to believe that the woman she saw, nursing a baby, +could be a sister of Henry’s. The house was as noisy as Jane’s was +quiet; and the mistress as talkative and pliable as Jane was reserved +and stiff. + +In her untidy black bombazeen dress, she looked more like a servant than +did her children’s nursemaid in her black coarse stuff; and the various +sounds of complaint that came from little folks in every corner of the +house were less wearing than the mamma’s incessant chiding and +repining.—She did not know anything about whether her brother Henry was +really married or not, she was sure; for Henry never came near them to +let them know what he was doing. + +“No wonder,” thought Marie, when she looked back upon the confusion of +children’s toys, stools of all sizes, and carpets (apparently spread to +trip up the walker), among which she had worked her way to the seat she +occupied. + +“There are so many calls upon one, you see, ma’am; and those that have +large families,—(what a noise those boys do make!)—so much is required +for a large family like ours, that it is no easy matter to bring up +children as some people do in these days. The burdens are so great! and +I am sure we could never think of sending a son of ours to the +university, if we were sure of his settling ever so well.—O, to be sure, +as you would say, ma’am, that should make no difference in our helping +Henry, hoping he would not get into any such scrapes again. Well, ma’am, +I will ask Mr. Peek when he comes home, to see if anything can be done.— +O, that would be too late, would it? Well, I don’t know that that +signifies so much, for I have a notion that as Mr. Peek is a king’s +servant, it might not be so well for him to appear. Dear me! I never +have any money by me, ma’am, but just for my little bills for the +family; and I should not think of parting with it while my husband is +out.—Why, really, I have no idea where you could find him. My little +girl shall see whether he is at home, though I am quite sure he is not. +Grace, my dear, go and see whether your father is in the back room. O, +you won’t. Then, Jenny, you must go. There! you see they won’t go, +ma’am; but it is of no consequence, for I do assure you he went out +after breakfast. I saw him go. Did not you, Harry?” + +“To dare to call one of their dirty, rude boys after my Henry!” thought +Marie, as she ran out of the house. Mrs. Peek stood looking after her, +wondering one thing and another about her, till the baby cried so loud +that she could not put off attending to him any longer. + +Marie could think of no further resource but to go back to Morgan for +advice. She was now very weary, and parched with thirst. She was not +accustomed to much exercise, and had never before walked alone through +crowded streets; her restless and anxious night was also a bad +preparation for so much toil. She was near sinking at once when, on +returning to the shop, she found from Sam that Morgan had just gone out, +he did not know whither. + +“She could not go out with me!” thought Marie. “My Henry is the only +English person worthy to be French, after all.” + +“Sure, mistress, you had better sit down,” observed Sam, wiping a stool +with his apron. On being asked whether he could let her have a glass of +water, he did more than fulfil the request. He found, in a dark place +under the counter, part of a bottle of some delicious syrup, which he +mixed with water, with something of the grace of an apothecary. Marie +could not help enjoying it, miserable as she was; and Sam could not help +smiling broadly at the effect of what he had done, grave as his +demeanour was in duty bound to be this day. + +Morgan’s “but” proved one of the most significant words she had ever +spoken. She did better than go with Marie. + +She entered Jane’s parlour, and stood beside the door when she had +closed it. + +“I must trouble you, ma’am, to pay me my wages, if you please.” + +Jane stared at her in astonishment. + +“What do you mean, Morgan?” + +“I mean, ma’am, that I have had no wages for these eleven years last +past, and I wish to have them now.” + +“Morgan, I think you have lost your senses! You never asked my father +for these wages.” + +“No, Miss Jane, because I held his promise of being provided for +otherwise and better, and my little money from elsewhere was all that I +wanted while here. But I have it under your hand, ma’am, what wages I +was to have as long as I lived with you.” + +“And you have my promise also that I would remember you in my will.” + +“Yes; but I would rather have my due wages now instead.” + +Jane could understand nothing of all this. People were not accustomed to +be asked for money in so abrupt a way, especially by an old friend. + +“Because, ma’am, people of my class are not often so much in want of +their money as I am to-day. If I had not known that you have the money +in the house, I should not have asked for it so suddenly. I will bring +down the box, ma’am.” + +She presently appeared, hauling along a heavy box with so much +difficulty as to oblige Jane to offer to assist her. Morgan next +presented a key. + +“How came you by this key?” asked Jane, quickly, as she tried it, and +the box lid flew open. Jane felt in her bosom for her own key, which was +there, safe enough, on its stout black ribbon. + +Morgan’s master had secretly given her this key years before. He kept +one thousand pounds in hard cash in this box; and it now appeared that +he had set Morgan’s fidelity and Jane’s avarice as a check upon each +other. Each was to count over the money once a-month. + +“You can count it now, ma’am, at your leisure, when you have paid me. I +shall not touch that key any more.” + +“O, yes, do, Morgan,” said her mistress, with a look of distress. “All +this is too much for me. I cannot take care of everything myself.” + +“Then let it go, Miss Jane. I have not had this box under my charge so +many years, to be now followed about by your eyes, every time I go near +the place where it is kept. Better you were robbed than that.” + +“And you are too proud to expect a legacy from me? That is the reason +you want your money now? You would cut off all connexion between us?” + +“Such is not my present reason, ma’am; but I do not say that I should +like to see you planning and planning how you could——But I won’t follow +it out, my dear. My wages, if you please.” + +And she laid down a formal receipt for the sum, and produced the canvass +bag in which to deposit her wealth. She then observed that she must walk +abroad for two or three hours, but hoped to be back before she was much +wanted. If her mistress could spare her till dark, she should take it as +a particular favour; but she could not say it was necessary to be gone +more than three hours at farthest. + +Jane seemed too much displeased or amazed to reply; and Morgan left her +counting the guineas. She heard the parlour-door bolted behind her, so +that no more Maries could gain access to her mistress. + +How Marie reproached herself for her secret censure of Morgan, when she +found Henry at liberty,—the fine having been paid by his faithful old +friend! Morgan had slipped away as soon as the good deed was done. She +awaited Henry and Marie, however, in their humble home, whither she had +proceeded to prepare a delicate little dinner for them, and see that all +was comfortable for their repose from the troubles of the day. It was no +fault of hers that they brought heavy cares with them; that Henry had to +console his Marie under her father’s misfortune,—his month of +imprisonment, and sentence to leave the country at the end of it. What +more could any one do than join with them in reprobating the tyranny of +the Alien Act? + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW. + + +Michael was quietly buried when the verdict of “accidental death” had +been duly agreed upon; and there was ample employment for Henry during +the month of M. Verblanc’s imprisonment in settling the affairs. There +was no will; and he therefore felt that the children, and she whom he +considered as the widow, though the law did not so recognize her, had +the first claim upon his justice. He was resolved that an ample +provision should be made for them; and that it should be done without +encroaching on Mrs. Peek’s share. Jane ought to have given the largest +proportion, not only because she had no claims upon her, but because her +survivorship enriched her by means of this very death. She did +contribute; but Henry’s portion was much larger; and it soon appeared +that Jane would not be at hand in future, if further assistance should +be required. + +Henry had, in his investigation of the affairs, learned that which +prevented his being surprised on hearing from Morgan that Jane meant to +go abroad. She had known so much of the smuggling transactions of the +firm, that she had probably a good understanding with certain persons +out at sea, who could aid her in getting away from the country she no +longer loved, and in placing her where she might invest her money so as +to avoid either an income or a property tax. + +“It is a strange freak of my mistress’s, sir, is not it?” said Morgan. +“She must feel it so herself, or she would not have left me to tell you +the story.” + +“It would be strange in most people, Morgan. I know it is said by some +that an income or a property tax must drive individuals to invest their +money abroad; but I am sure that except in a few rare cases, it would +not be so. A man has so much more confidence in the stability of the +institutions of his own country than in those of any other,—there are so +many inducements to keep his treasure where his heart is,—near his +kindred and his father’s house,—his obligations are so much more +calculable at home than abroad,—and, above all, it is so clear that the +substitution of a direct for an indirect tax must set free the exercise +of his capital and his industry,—that a man must be burdened indeed +before he would think, for this reason alone, of placing his capital +elsewhere. Jane’s case is different.” + +“Ah! Mr. Henry, she has left off loving her kindred and her father’s +house.” + +“Not so, I hope: but she is no longer happy among them, for reasons +which we can understand.” + +“She owned as much to me, sir, as that she could not bear to think of +yon poor young woman and her children having what had been so hardly +earned; or to see the waste and dawdling going on in Mrs. Peek’s family; +or to pay her taxes in a heavy lump when the government chose to call +for it, instead of buying a little of this and a little of that, when +she liked, without having to remember that she was paying taxes.” + +“Ah! that is the reason why people like those indirect taxes. But I +should have thought that Jane had seen enough of the waste that there is +in the collecting them, to think very ill of them.” + +“The taking stock of my master’s tea, sir, once a-month—what a farce it +was! How many officers were paid for little more than not seeing cheats! +and when one thinks of the permits, and the entry books, and the army of +spies,—for so they are,—that have to be paid out of the duties +collected, one wonders that Miss Jane, or anybody else, should be found +to speak up for such an extravagant plan.” + +“Those will be most ready to do so who are unwilling to pay in +proportion for the protection which is of most importance to those who +have the most property. But they forget the plain rule that when the +people’s money is raised to be spent for the good of the people, as +little as possible ought to be wasted by the way. It is a shame that the +cost of collection should be seven pound ten in every hundred pounds, +when the odd shillings would be enough under good management.” + +“But is that true, sir?” + +“Quite true; and the less this particular matter is looked to, the wider +will the difference be between what is and what ought to be. My wife +will tell you that there was a time in France when the nation paid five +times as much in taxes as ever arrived at the treasury. Under a wiser +management, the same people afterwards paid no more than a tenth part of +their taxes to the collectors, though there were above two hundred +thousand persons employed in the collection. O, yes, these were far too +many; but you may see what a difference it makes to the people whether +this point be managed well or ill; and it is very clear that it must be +a great advantage to have a plan of taxation which would employ a few +persons, at regular times; so that people would know what they had to +pay and when, and that as little as possible would be lost by the way.” + +“They say that an immensity of money will be raised by this income tax.” + +“A great deal; and so there ought to be. Something great ought to come +out of so disagreeable a process. It is _very_ disagreeable to be +examined, and have one’s concerns pryed into in the way that these +commissioners must do. I am sure I do not wonder at my sister’s dislike +of it.” + +“O, sir, I never saw such a conflict as she had to go through with +herself. I determined never to be present again when the gentlemen came. +When she did bring herself to give an account, I know what a struggle +she had to tell the truth. I would not for the world that any one else +had been there; but, sir, the commissioners laughed, and winked, and +threatened her with the oath.” + +“One is exposed to the impertinence of tax-gatherers under any system; +and I do not know that it need be worse under this tax than any other. +But it is provoking that this must be added to what we had to bear +before. Prices are just as high as ever. There has been no reduction of +the old taxes yet. Our producers of food and clothing, and all that we +want, go on paying their taxes in commodities, and not only charging +these on the articles when sold, but the interest on their advance of +money for the tax. And so does the consumer’s money run out in many a +channel.” + +“All this helps my mistress abroad. But, sir, is it true that she cannot +go safely?” + +“Yes, and she must know it.” + +“She does. She hinted as much to me. Do you suppose anybody will stop +her?” + +“If they can get hold of her; but her friends are those who will convey +her safely, if anybody can. She knows that at present it is high treason +to invest money in an enemy’s country, particularly in land——” + +“O dear; and I believe it is your French gentleman’s lands that she has +in view.” + +“We cannot prevent her going, if she chooses to run the risk; but a +great risk it is. The sale of their lands is supposed to be the +principal means that our enemies have for carrying on the war; and no +English person is allowed, under the penalty of death, to purchase land +or to buy into the French funds. But what will be done about Jane’s +annuity?” + +“She says she has laid a plan for getting it,—whether by coming over +once a year in the same way that she goes, or by some other device, I do +not know. Surely, sir, those tontine annuities are very bad things! +Worse than lotteries, since they make people jealous of their +neighbours’ lives, and rejoiced to hear of their deaths.” + +“Very bad! No gaming is much worse. The advantage to the annuitants is, +in its nature, most unequal; and it is so disadvantageous to the +government, that none of its money is set free till the last of the lot +is dead, that I wonder the system is persevered in.” + +“I am sure I wish the government had had the Mr. Hills’, and my +master’s; for Miss Jane has never been like the same person since. Do +you know, sir, I believe there is one who will be particularly +disappointed at her going away?” + +“You mean Dr. Say. Do you think he has ever had any chance with her?” + +“Sometimes I have thought he had; and I should not wonder, after all, if +she thinks to take him on——” + +“No, no, Morgan. She never can mean to marry that man.” + +“Why, sir, when people of her spirit have been cruelly disappointed +once, as I know her to have been, they are apt to find too late the want +of a friend to join themselves to; and yet they do not like to give up +their sway. Now, Dr. Say is so yielding——” + +“Ay, at present." + +“True, sir; but he is very yielding indeed, to judge from the coldness +he has put up with from my mistress, and his hanging to her still. But +she will not have him yet; not till she has gained her particular end in +going abroad; and then, perhaps——” + +“This is the way human creatures do when they are perverted and injured +like my poor sister. They must finish some trifling thing, gain some +petty point, and then begin to think of the realities of life. Poor +Jane! what can a few more thousands be to her? Morgan, have you ever +thought of going with her?” + +“It would have been my desire, if it had not been my promise, to stay +with her as long as we both lived; but from her saying nothing to me +about it, and her talking of things that I believe are to be left for me +to do after she is gone, I suppose that she does not wish for me.” + +“Then where will you go? What do you think of doing?” + +“Just what Providence may prepare to my hand. I have scarcely cast my +mind that way yet.” + +Nor did Morgan settle her thoughts on her own concerns till compelled to +do so. There was much to be thought of and accomplished; and it was the +way of everybody to look to Morgan in all cases of bustle and +difficulty. The business, shop, and house thereto belonging, were +immediately disposed of; and they had to be prepared for the new tenant, +and vacated in a short time. Jane would not sell the furniture; she +could not find in her heart to let it go for so little as it would now +bring; still less to give it to Patience. Her green stuff curtains, and +threadbare carpets, and battered tables, and shabby fire-irons, were all +valuable in her eyes, because of some of these she had known no others, +and of some she still thought as new. How many recurrences of mind had +she to these articles,—now reddening at the idea of the insulting price +that was offered for them, and then sighing at the thought of the +extravagance of hiring a room expressly for their reception! This last +was the plan finally decided upon, however; and, by dint of such close +packing as nobody else would have formed an idea of, the greater part of +the lumber was stowed, while there was still space left to turn round. + +Everything was gone from the kitchen but one chair and a few cooking +utensils when Morgan sat before the fire, knitting worsted stockings, +and rocking herself to the time of the old Welsh air she was singing low +to herself. The clock that ticked was gone; and the monotonous singing +of the kettle was the only sound besides her own voice. She was thinking +about Wales, as she always did when she sang,—of the farm-house in the +valley where she was born; and of how lightly she tripped to the spring +the morning she was told that there were thoughts of sending her with +her uncle, the carrier, to London to win her bread; and then of the +evening when she emerged from among the last hills, and saw the plain, +with its clusters of trees, and its innumerable hedge-rows, and its few +hamlets, and a church steeple or two, all glowing in the sunset; and how +she admired a flat country, and fancied how happy people must be who +lived in a flat country; and then how little she imagined that, after +having become familiar with London life, she should ever be sitting +alone, seeing the comfort of the abode demolished, day by day, and +waiting to know what should become of her when the last of the family +she had served so long was about to wander away from the old house. The +clatter without went on just as if all was as formerly within. The +cries, the bustle, and the loud laughs in the street seemed very like a +mockery; and Morgan, who had never, all these years, complained of the +noise of Budge-Row, was very nearly being put out of temper about it +this evening. In the midst of it, she thought she heard her mistress’s +hand-bell ring, and stopped her chanting to answer the summons. She +released from its place under her gown the canvass bag, which must have +proved a great burden to her right side, and carried the kettle in the +other hand, supposing, with the allowable freedom of an old servant, +that Miss Farrer might be wishing for her tea a little earlier than +usual, and that there could be no harm in saving her turns along the +passage. + +“Ma’am, I’m afraid your rheumatism troubles you,” said she, seeing that +Jane had drawn her shawl over her head. “I thought it would be so when +you took the curtains down in such bitter weather.” + +“Never mind that, Morgan: I must meet more cold at sea.” + +“But you had better get well first, ma’am. Would you wish that I should +step for Dr. Say?” and Morgan put some stiffness into her manner. + +Jane looked round upon the disfurnished apartment, and probably thought +that it looked too comfortless to be seen by Dr. Say; for she desired +that if he called he should be told that she was too tired to see any +one. + +“I think, Morgan,” she proceeded, “there is nothing left but what you +can take care of for me, if I must go in a hurry. It will hardly take +you two hours to stow these few things with the rest of the furniture; +and an hour or two of your time, now and then, will keep them in good +order for me.” + +And then followed sundry directions about airing, dusting, brushing, +&c., all which implied that Morgan would remain near at hand. + +“I have said nothing about your going with me,” continued Jane. “I +suppose you never thought of it?” + +“I considered myself bound, Miss Jane, after what we once said together, +to follow you for life, if you had so pleased. Since you do not——” + +“It would be too much for you, Morgan. I would not expose you to the +risk, or to the fatigue. You know nothing of the fatigues of such a +voyage as I am going upon. In a regular vessel it is very great; but——” + +“Ma’am, I have no wish to go otherwise than at your desire. I am old +now, and——” + +“Yes, it will be much better for you to be with Patience, or with +Henry.” + +“No, ma’am; if I leave you, it must be to go back to my own place. The +same day that you dismiss me I shall plan my way home. I do not wish to +be turned over from service to service, knowing that I shall never +attach myself to any as I did, from the first, to you, my dear.” + +“But what will you do with yourself in Wales? Everybody you knew there +must be dead, or grown up out of knowledge.” + +“Perhaps so; but it will serve my turn to sit and knit by the farmhouse +fire; and I should like to be doing something in a dairy again. I have +not put my hand to a churn, much less seen a goat, these seventeen +years, except once, when your father sent me, in a hurry, to Islington, +and there, Miss, I saw a goat; and, for the life of me, I could not help +following it down a lane to see where it went to, and to watch its +habits. When I saw it browsing and cropping, even though it was in a +brick-field, I could not help standing behind it; and the thing led me +such a round, I had much ado to get home to tea. My master found out +that something had kept me; but I was ashamed to tell him what it was. +However, our Welsh goats——but I am taking up your time. Yes, I shall go +back into Wales. But first, ma’am, there is a little thing to be +settled. I gave up to you my key of that box, or I would have put the +money in without troubling you; but here is the sum you paid me the +other day, and I will trouble you for the receipt back again.” + +“What can you mean, Morgan, by demanding your wages so strangely, and +then bringing them back again?” + +“I meant to keep the promise I made to you, Miss Jane,—to cover your +faults when I could. You refused to pay the fine for Mr. Henry, and so I +paid it in your name; that was what I wanted the money for. I did not +think of having it back again; but Mr. Henry seemed so uneasy about not +discharging it, that I let him take his own way.” + +Jane made some objections, which Morgan would not listen to. She would +neither suffer any allusion to the legacy nor to her own circumstances. +She briefly declared that she had enough. Her small wants were supplied +from the savings of her young days, and she had no further use for +money, besides having taken something of a disgust to it lately. She +possessed herself of the key from her mistress’s side without being +opposed, unlocked the box before her face, and deposited the cash, +showing, at the same time, that she resumed the receipt. While she was +doing this, Jane drew her shawl farther over her head, as if she +suffered from the cold. Morgan saw that it was to conceal her tears. + +“Oh, Miss Jane! only say that you wish it, and I will give up Wales and +go with you; or if you would but be content to go back to my home, you +might think about money as much as ever, if you must, and be happy at +living in such a cheap country. But you might there forget all such +troubles to the mind, if you would.” + +Jane hastily observed that it was too late for this: she had given her +word to sail, and she must sail directly; she could hear nothing to the +contrary. + +Morgan said no more, but brought tea, and prepared everything for her +mistress’s early going to rest, and then came to take away the +tea-things. + +“You will make it early bed-time to-night, ma’am?” said she. + +Jane assented. + +“Then I have a strong belief that this is the last speech I shall have +of you, Miss Jane; and I would not part from you without a farewell, as +I fear others, nearer and dearer, must do.” + +“None are nearer and dearer,” exclaimed Jane, in a tone which upset +Morgan’s fortitude. She then checked herself, and coldly added, “I mean +to call on my brother and Patience before I go.” + +“What I am least sorry about,” said Morgan, “is, that you are going out +upon the great and wide sea. I am glad that you will see a million of +dashing waves, and feel the sweeping winds, both of which I used to know +something of from the top of our mountain. We have both seen too much of +brick walls, and heard too much of the noise of a city. Your spirits +have failed you sadly of late, my dear; and I myself have been less +lightsome than I have always held that a trusting creature should be. +Ah! your tears will dry up when you are among the deeps; and you will +find, as the waters heave up and about you, how little worth is in all +worldly care, take my word for it, my dear. You on the sea by starlight, +and I in the valley when the early buds come out—oh! we shall grow into +a more wholesome mind than all the changes here have left us in. +Meantime, we must part; and if we should never meet again——” + +“Oh, but there is no fear: it is a very safe voyage, indeed, they tell +me. I cannot have any fancies put into my head about not coming back, +Morgan.” + +“Well, let it be so then,—let it be that you will certainly come back; +still I am old,—ay, not what you will allow to be old, if you reach my +years, but what I like to think so. You cannot, in your heart, say that +you would be taken by surprise any day to hear that old Morgan was gone. +Well, then, God bless you! and give you a better relish of this life +before he calls you to another!” + +“Indeed I am not happy,” was the feeling expressed by Jane’s manner, and +by her tears, as much as by her words. She could neither control her +feelings nor endure to expose their intensity, and she therefore +hastened to bed, seemingly acquiescing in Morgan’s advice not to be in a +hurry to rise in the morning. + +Morgan’s sleep was not very sound; partly from the sense of discomfort +in the naked house, and more from busy and anxious thoughts—such as she +had never known among the green hills of Wales, and such as were likely, +she therefore supposed, to be laid to rest when she should be at home +again. She fancied several times that she heard Jane stirring, and then +dropped into a doze again, when she dreamed that her mistress was +sleeping very quietly. At last she started up, uneasy at finding that it +was broad daylight, and sorry that the alarum had not been one of the +last things to be taken away, as she feared that her mistress might be +kept waiting for her breakfast. She bustled about, made a particularly +good fire, ventured to take in, of her own accord, a tempting hot roll, +and, as her mistress was still not down stairs, made a basin of tea, and +carried up the tray to the chamber. + +“I hope you find your head better this morning, ma’am?” said she, +drawing up the blind which kept the room in darkness. + +No answer. Morgan saw no traces of clothes, and hastily pulled aside the +bed-curtain: no one was there. A little farther search convinced her +that Jane was gone. + +The people in the shop testified to two stout porters having arrived +early, and asked permission to go in and out through the shop. They had +each carried a heavy box, and been accompanied by the lady in deep +black, whose veil was over her face when she went out. She had not gone +without another word, as Morgan at first, in the bitterness of her +heart, reproached her for doing. She had left a note, with an +affectionate assurance of remembering her old friend, not only in her +will, but during every day of her life. Morgan would also find that a +sum of money had been left in Henry’s hands for her, as some +acknowledgment of her long services. There was also advice about +purchasing an annuity with it, which Morgan did not read to-day. + +The shop-boy had the benefit of the hot roll. Morgan set off to discover +how much Mr. Henry knew of Jane’s proceedings. Marie could tell no more +than that she had missed the bird on coming down into the cheerful +breakfast-room of their new lodgings. Their maid had admitted a lady in +black to write a note there this morning, as the family were not down. +The bird had not been seen since; and it could only be supposed that it +was carried away in its cage under the lady’s long black cloak. + +Jane acknowledged this in her note to Henry. She could not resist +carrying away this living relic of old times. It must be more precious +to her than to them; and she should send Marie from abroad some pet to +be cherished for her sake, if Marie cared enough for her to do so. They +had better not enquire where she was gone, or how; but trust to hearing +of her through M. Verblanc (when he should be again abroad) or his +agents. + +Patience seemed to be the only one who had seen her sister, while thus +scattering her ghostly adieus. Patience related that the house was in +such confusion when Jane came in, (so unreasonably early!) that she had +no very clear recollection of what had passed, further than that Jane +cried very much, so that the elder children did not know what to make of +it; and that her black veil frightened the little ones when she was +kissing them all round. She hoped Jane did not really mean that she was +going away for any length of time. She somehow had not half believed +that; but as Morgan did believe it, Patience began at last to be very +sorry indeed. + +Morgan could not quit London these two or three days, if she was to +leave her mistress’s little concerns in the exact order in which she +desired them to remain. She would not be persuaded to pass her few days +any where but in the old kitchen, or to leave unvisited for a single +night the chamber where her master died. This evening was cold and +stormy. She thought first of her mistress’s rheumatism; and, as the wind +rose, and whistled under the doors, and roared in the chimney, she +wandered to the window to see how things looked in the Row. The flame of +the lamps flickered and flared within the glass; women held on their +bonnets, and the aprons of workmen and the pinafores of children +fluttered about. Morgan was but too sure that it must be a bad night on +the river, or at sea. She wished she knew whether Mr. Henry thought so. +This would have settled the matter with Morgan, for she believed Mr. +Henry knew every thing; but it was too late to intrude upon him +to-night. She would go in the morning. + +In the morning, when she got up early, to observe the heavy clouds still +drifting rapidly over the narrow slip of sky which was all that could be +seen from even the back of the house, she found a little bird cowering +down on the window-sill, as if drowsy through fatigue and cold. There +was no mistaking the bird, and in another moment it was warming itself +against Morgan’s cheek and in her bosom, while the hand which was not +employed in guarding it was preparing its holiday mess of crumbs, milk +and sugar. + +“O, my bird!” exclaimed Marie, the moment Morgan produced it from +beneath her red cloak. + +“Did not my mistress say something to you, ma’am, of sending you some +living thing for a remembrance? Do you think it likely she should send +you this bird?” + +No: nobody thought it likely. But how the creature could have escaped +from such guardianship as Jane’s was very unaccountable. There was no +connecting it with the gales of last night; yet Morgan could not forget +her own words about the wide and rough waters, and what Jane would feel +when she saw them in their might. + +While Marie was yet weeping over the departure of her father, on the +expiration of his month of imprisonment, and listening to her husband’s +cheering assurances that peace must come, and with it, liberty for all +to go to and fro, she said, + +“Meanwhile, there may be comfort for you in hearing through him of Jane. +Will she not send us tidings, as she said?” + +No such intelligence came; and in M. Verblanc’s frequent letters was +always contained the assurance that no tidings of the estimable lady, +the sister of his son-in-law, had reached his agent or himself. + +Henry had been long settled down to his duties and enjoyments as a +country clergyman, when he received a letter from Peek containing the +following intelligence, which was immediately forwarded to Morgan. + +“I had been applied to several times,” Peek wrote, “about Jane Farrer, +spinster, the surviving claimant of the tontine annuity last year, on +whose behalf no claim has been made this year. You will see presently +that government has had a lucky bargain of that annuity, which is more +than can often be said of that sort of transaction. The whole thing has +come to light; and Patience was in great distress about it, all +yesterday. We have had a rare catch of smugglers; and one of them let +out, when he began to be chop-fallen, that it was very odd he had +escaped such a many risks, to be trapped at last. Among the rest, he +told us of one surprising get off when he thought he was sent for to the +bottom where all the rest went. After a windy day, which had blown their +boat out of the river at a fine rate, till they were almost within sight +of their smuggling vessel, their cockle-shell could not stand the gale. +He swears that they should have done very well but for the heavy chests +that they were carrying for a gentlewoman who wanted to be smuggled +abroad. She was almost desperate when they heaved both chests overboard, +though she had been quiet enough while the gale was rising. She went +down quietly enough too, when the boat filled, and sunk from under them +all, leaving such as could to save themselves on any thing they could +find to float on; by which means he and one other only got to shore. All +he remembers about the gentlewoman is that she wore a black cloak, and +noticed nobody, more or less, but a siskin that she had with her in a +cage. One of the last things she did,—and he remembers it by a joke that +went round, of her caring about a brute creature’s life when her own was +not worth a farthing,—the last thing she did was letting fly the bird, +and she looked after it, to see how it fared in the wind, when the water +was up to her own knees. From the oddness of this, and the black cloak, +we feel convinced it must have been sister Jane, besides the date being +the same. Patience fretted a good deal about it yesterday, as I +mentioned. We suppose that we shall now see you in town about the +affairs, and you know where you may always find a pipe and a bit of +chat.” + +“Do not go, Henry,” said Marie. “Let Peek have all the wealth. Do not +let us touch that which has poisoned the lives of three of your family.” + +“It poisoned the peace of their lives, Marie, and it caused their +deaths. We will not die of such solicitude, nor, if any of our children +must die by violence or accident, shall it be for such a cause. They +must be taught the uses of wealth; and fearfully has Providence +qualified us for teaching this lesson.” + +“That wealth is but an instrument, and that they are responsible for the +use of it?” + +“Responsible, not only to Him who maketh rich and maketh poor, but to +society,—to the state. We will teach our children that to evade or +repine at their due contribution to the state is to be ungrateful to +their best earthly protector, and to be the oppressors of those who +should rather be spared in proportion as their means are less. If to lay +on burdens too heavy to be borne be one crime, it is another to refuse a +just burden.” + +Henry checked himself on perceiving that he was reproaching the memory +of his deceased brother and sister. He regarded them, however, as +victims rather than aggressors,—victims to their father’s false views, +and to the policy of the time, which, by making the state a spendthrift, +rendered too many of its members sordid. + +“This is the favourite that Jane sent me to be cherished for her sake,” +said Marie, approaching the bird. “It shall be cherished.” + +“I failed in my trust,” thought Morgan, as she went out to call home the +kids from the mountain,—“I failed in my trust when I doubted about Miss +Jane’s old age. What did I know about whether she would ever be old; or, +if she should be, whether there would not by that time be peace, and a +less heavy burdening of the people, so that they might be free to see +more clearly whether or not they were made to struggle with low things +all their lives, like a sick person in a dream who is always trying to +fly, and is for ever baffled?—I don’t know whether one ought to be sorry +that Miss Jane has been wakened up untimely from such a dream; but I +mourn that she did not come here to see what a fearful mistaking of +Providence it is to dream on in that restless bed when here are such +wide fields of sweet thyme for one’s eyes and one’s heart to rest upon. +Let men live in cities, if they will; but why should they think that the +fields and the brooks are for those only who live among them? These +brooks must run over silver sands, and yonder harvest fields must bear +ears of real gold before men may fancy that gold is in favour with God, +and that it should therefore be sought as a main thing by men. I wish it +had pleased God that Miss Jane had but once come here.” + + + + + _Summary of Principles illustrated in this Volume._ + + +All the members of a society who derive protection from its government +owe a certain proportion of the produce of their labour or capital to +the support of that government,—that is, are justly liable to be taxed. + +The proportion contributed should be determined by the degree of +protection enjoyed,—of protection to property,—for all are personally +protected. + +In other words, a just taxation must leave all the members of society in +precisely the same relation in which it found them. + +This equality of contribution is the first principle of a just taxation. + +Such equality can be secured only by a method of direct taxation. + +Taxes on commodities are, from their very nature, unequal, as they leave +it in the choice of the rich man how much he shall contribute to the +support of the state; while the man whose whole income must be spent in +the purchase of commodities has no such choice. This inequality is +aggravated by the necessity, in order to make these taxes productive, of +imposing them on necessaries more than on luxuries. + +Taxes on commodities are further injurious by entailing great expense +for the prevention of smuggling, and a needless cost of collection. + +They could not have been long tolerated but for their quality of +affording a convenient method of tax-paying, and for the ignorance of +the bulk of the people of their injurious operation. + +The method of direct taxation which best secures equality is the +imposition of a tax on income or on property. + +There is so much difficulty in ascertaining to the general satisfaction +the relative values of incomes held on different tenures, and the +necessary inquisition is so odious, that if a tax on the source of +incomes can be proved equally equitable, it is preferable, inasmuch as +it narrows the province of inquisition. + +There is no reason to suppose that an equitable graduation of a tax on +invested capital is impracticable; and as it would equally affect all +incomes derived from this investment (that is, all incomes whatsoever), +its operation must be singularly impartial, if the true principle of +graduation be once attained. + +A graduated property tax is free from all the evils belonging to taxes +on commodities; while it has not their single recommendation—of +favouring the subordinate convenience of the tax-payer. + +This last consideration will, however, become of less importance in +proportion as the great body of tax-payers advances towards that +enlightened agreement which is essential to the establishment of a just +system of taxation. + +The grossest violation of every just principle of taxation is the +practice of burdening posterity by contracting permanent loans, of which +the nation is to pay the interest. + +The next grossest violation of justice is the transmitting such an +inherited debt unlessened to posterity, especially as every improvement +in the arts of life furnishes the means of throwing off a portion of the +national burdens. + +The same rule of morals which requires state-economy on behalf of the +present generation, requires, on behalf of future generations, that no +effort should be spared to liquidate the National Debt. + + THE END. + + London: Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES, Duke-street, Lambeth. + + + + + PREFACE. + + +The task which I originally proposed to myself is now finished. I have +done what I could to illustrate the leading principles of Political +Economy. But I cannot leave off without attempting something more which +I believe will improve the purpose of what I have already done. Now that +TAXATION is everywhere considered a subject of deep importance,— +attention having been called to it in a remarkable degree since my +series was planned,—I feel that my work is not complete without a +further illustration of the practice as well as the principle of +Taxation. In the present doubtful state of our financial policy, the few +Numbers which I am about to issue may be expected to be of greater +temporary, and of less permanent, interest than those which have +preceded them. However this may be, I believe myself called upon to +offer them, before laying aside my pen for a long interval. + +That I should be permitted to complete, without interruption, my +original plan of monthly publication, for two years, was more than, in +the uncertainty of human affairs and the inconsistency of human +projects, I ventured to anticipate with any degree of assurance. This is +not the place in which to express more than a mere acknowledgment of the +fact. But I must be allowed to add that so long a continuance of health +and leisure is less surprising to me than the steadiness of the favour +by which my exertions have been supported. Unless I could explain how +far my achievements have fallen short of my aims, I could not express my +sense of the patience with which the wise have borne with my failures, +and the ardour with which (for the sake of the science) they have +stimulated my successes: while those who have done me the honour of +learning anything from me, have given me a yet higher pleasure by their +studious appreciation of my object. I know not that my friends of either +class can be better thanked than by the assurance, that while in their +service I have not experienced a single moment of discouragement or +weariness about my task. I have been often conscious of weakness, +amounting to failure; but I have never been disheartened. Long after my +slight elementary work shall have been (I trust) superseded, I shall, if +I live, recur with quiet delight to the time when it formed my chief +occupation, and shall hope that the wide friendships which it has +originated will subsist when my little volumes are forgotten. + +It must be perfectly needless to explain what I owe to preceding writers +on the science of which I have treated. Such an acknowledgment could +only accompany a pretension of my own to have added something to the +science—a pretension which I have never made. By dwelling, as I have +been led to do, on their discoveries, I have become too much awakened to +the glory to dream of sharing the honour. Great men must have their +hewers of wood and drawers of water; and scientific discoverers must be +followed by those who will popularize their discoveries. When the +woodman finds it necessary to explain that the forest is not of his +planting, I may begin to particularize my obligations to Smith and +Malthus, and others of their high order. + +I proceed to my short remaining task untired, and happy to delay, for a +few months, the period when I must bid my readers a temporary farewell. + + H. M. + +_February_, 1834. + + THE + + MORAL OF MANY FABLES. + + ----------------------- + + PART I. + + +My many fables have all been melancholy. This is the fault which has +been more frequently found with them than any other. Instead of +disputing the ground of complaint, or defending myself by an appeal +to fact, I have always entreated the objectors to wait and see if +the moral of my fables be melancholy also. I have been sustained +throughout by the conviction that it is not; and I now proceed to +exhibit the grounds of my confidence. + +Is it not true, however, that in the science under review, as in +every other department of moral science, we must enter through +tribulation into truth? The discipline of the great family of the +earth is strictly analogous with that of the small household which +is gathered under the roof of the wise parent. It is only by the +experience consequent on the conscious or unconscious transgression +of laws that the children of either family can fully ascertain the +will of the Ruler, and reach that conformity from which alone can +issue permanent harmony and progressive happiness. What method, +then, is so direct for one who would ascertain those laws, as to +make a record of the transgressions and their consequences, in order +to educe wise principles from foolish practices, permanent good from +transient evil? Whatever be the degree of failure, through the +unskilfulness of the explorer, the method can scarcely be a faulty +one, since it is that by which all attainments of moral truth are +made. Could I, by any number of tales of people who have _not_ +suffered under an unwise administration of social affairs, have +shown that that administration was unwise? In as far as an +administration is wise, there is no occasion to write about it; for +its true principles are already brought to a practical recognition, +and nothing remains to be done. Would that we had more cheering +tales of happy societies than we have! They will abound in time; but +they will be told for other purposes than that of proving the +principles of a new science. + +Thus much in defence,—not of my tales, but of the venerable +experimental method which is answerable for their being sad. + + -------------- + +To cure us of our sadness, however, let us review the philosophy of +Labour and Capital;—the one the agent, the other the instrument of + + PRODUCTION. + +WEALTH consists of such commodities as are useful,—that is, +necessary or agreeable to mankind. + +Wealth is to be obtained by the employment of labour on materials +furnished by Nature. + +As the materials of Nature appear to be inexhaustible, and as the +supply of labour is continually progressive, no other limits can be +assigned to the operations of labour than those of human +intelligence. + +Productive labour being a beneficial power, whatever stimulates and +directs this power is beneficial also. + +Many kinds of unproductive labour do this. Many kinds of +unproductive labour are, therefore, beneficial. + +All labour for which there is a fair demand is equally respectable. + +Labour being a beneficial power, all economy of that labour must be +beneficial. + +Labour is economized, + + I. By division of labour; in three ways. + + 1. Men do best what they are accustomed to do. + + 2. Men do the most quickly work which they stick to. + + 3. It is a saving of time to have several parts of a work + going on at once. + +Labour is economized, + + II. By the use of machinery, which + + 1. Eases man’s labour. + + 2. Shortens man’s labour; and thus, by doing his work, sets + him at liberty for other work. + +Labour should be protected by securing its natural liberty; that +is,— + + 1. By showing no partiality. + + 2. By removing the effects of former partiality. + +CAPITAL is something produced with a view to employment in further +production. + +Labour is the origin, and + +Saving is the support, of capital. + +Capital consists of + + 1. Implements of labour. + + 2. Material, simple or compound, on which labour is employed. + + 3. Subsistence of labourers. + +Of these three parts, the first constitutes fixed capital; the +second and third reproducible capital. + +Since capital is derived from labour, whatever economizes labour +assists the growth of capital. + +Machinery economizes labour, and therefore assists the growth of +capital. + +The growth of capital increases the demand for labour. + +Machinery, by assisting the growth of capital, therefore increases +the demand for labour. + +In other words, productive industry is proportioned to capital, +whether that capital be fixed or reproducible. + +The interests of the two classes of producers, labourers and +capitalists, are therefore the same; the prosperity of both +depending on the accumulation of CAPITAL. + + -------------- + +Of that which is necessary and agreeable to mankind, no measure can +be taken; the materials being apparently inexhaustible, and the +power of appropriation incessantly progressive. There is nothing +very melancholy in this; and it is as true as if it was the saddest +proposition that ever was made. Is there any known commodity which +has failed from off the earth when men desired to retain it? Is it +not true of every commodity, that in proportion as men desire to +have more of it, its quantity is increased? The desire prompts to +the requisite labour; and we know of no instance where the requisite +labour has been universally stopped for want of materials. The +Norwegians may want more wheat, and the Kamtchatkadales will +certainly wish for better clothing by and by; but we know that +neither corn nor broadcloth are failing, and that the labour is +already being multiplied, and the accumulation of capital going on, +which may, at length, supply both the one and the other party with +what each needs. Even if every man, woman, and child should take a +fancy for the scarcest productions of nature,—for diamonds, +perhaps,—we have no reason to suppose that there are not, or will +not in time be, diamonds enough to supply the human race; and if +diamonds inspired as vehement a desire,—_i. e._, were as necessary,— +as daily bread, there would assuredly be no lack of the labour +requisite to procure them. + +Besides the primary materials which Nature casts forth from every +cleft of the earth, and every cave of the sea,—which she makes to +sprout under every passing cloud, and expand beneath every sunbeam, +there are new and illimitable classes of productions perpetually +attainable by bringing her forces to bear upon each other. By such +combination, not only new materials, but fresh powers are +discovered, which, in their turn, develop further resources, and +confound our imaginations with the prospect of the wealth which +awaits man’s reception. It is a great thing to possess improved +breeds of animals in the place of their forefathers,—the lean wild +cattle with which our forefathers were content; and to see golden +corn-fields where coarse, sour grasses once struggled scantily +through a hard soil: but it is a much greater thing to have made +even the little progress we have made in chemical and mechanical +science;—to have learned how to change at will the qualities of the +very soil, and bring new agents to increase its fertility and vary +its productions;—to have learned to originate and perpetuate motion, +and guide to purposes of production the winds of heaven and the +streams of earth;—to have learned how to bind the subtlest fluids in +the chains of our servitude, and appoint their daily labour to the +flying vapours. Truly the Psalmist would scarcely have called man +lower than the angels if he could have foreseen that such as these +would in time be his slaves. While there was nothing known but a +spontaneous or comparatively simple production,—while men reaped +only what Nature had sown, or sowed at random, trusting that Nature +would bring forth the harvest,—while there existed only the brute +labour of the coral insect, or the barbaric labour which reared the +wall of China, and planted the pyramids, and scooped out the temples +of Elora, there was assurance of incalculable wealth in the bosom of +Nature and in the sinews of men. What is there not now, when a more +philosophic labour has won a kingdom from the ocean, and planted a +beacon in the region of storms, and made an iron pathway from steep +to steep before bridged only by clouds, and realized the old imagery +of vapoury wings and steeds of fire, promising, not only to ransack +the sea and the far corners of the earth for wealth which already +exists, but to produce more than had been hitherto imagined? There +is nothing dark in this prospect. What dimness there is, is in the +eyes of some who look upon it. + +It seems strange that any should quarrel with this increase of +wealth;—that there should be any wish to leave off soliciting +Nature, and any preference of brute or barbaric over philosophic +labour. It seems strange that men should wish rather to go on +working like the ass and the caterpillar than to turn over such +labour to brute agents, and betake themselves to something higher;— +that they had rather drag their loads through the mire than speed +them on a railroad, and spin thread upon thread than see it done for +them a thousand times better than they could do it themselves. It +seems strange that these objections should proceed from those who +most need a larger share of the offered wealth. There are honourable +ways of refusing wealth and power, but this is assuredly not one of +them. If there be reasons why man should hesitate to accept large +gifts from his fellow-men, there can be none for his declining the +bounty of Providence. + +The reason why some men do not like to hear of the opening up of new +sources of wealth and fresh powers of industry is, that they believe +that whatsoever is given to the race is taken from certain +individuals; and that they had rather that all should suffer +privation than that they themselves should undergo loss. The mention +of lighting London streets with gas was hateful to certain persons +connected with the northern fisheries, as it would lessen the demand +for oil. They would have had all future generations grope in +darkness rather than that their own speculations should suffer. In +like manner, an increased importation of palm oil was a great +blessing to the African date-gatherers, and will prove no less to +the British public; but this pure good was at first regarded as a +great evil by a few soap-manufacturers, who hoped to have been able +to keep up the price of their commodity by controlling the supply of +its component materials; and for the same reasons, the same persons +sighed over the removal of the salt-duty. Perhaps no improvement of +human resources ever took place without being greeted by some such +thankless murmurs as these; and, too probably, it will be long +before such murmurs will be perceived to be thankless, though +happily experience proves that they are useless. + +While there are human wants, there will be no end to discoveries and +improvements. Till all are supplied with soap, or something better +than soap, there will be more and more palm oil, and a further +cheapening of alkalies. The soap-manufacturers must not comfort +themselves with the hope that they can stop the supplies, but with +the certainty that the more soap there is, the more users of soap +there will be; and that their business will extend and prosper in +proportion as there are more clean faces among cottage children, and +more wholesome raiment among the lower classes of our towns. Since +it is vain to think of persuading the poor native of Fernando Po to +refrain from gathering his dates when he has once learned that there +are thousands of British who demand them, the only thing to be done +is to speed the new commerce, and welcome the reciprocation of +benefits. + +Thus is it also with improvements in art. The race cannot submit to +permanent privation for the sake of the temporary profits of +individuals; and so it has been found by such short-sighted +individuals, as often as they have attempted to check the progress +of art. No bridge was ever yet delayed in the building for the sake +of the neighbouring ferryman; and no one will say that it ought to +have been so delayed. When it comes to be a question whether drivers +and drovers, carriers and pedlars, shopkeepers, farmers, and +market-people shall be inconvenienced or excluded, or one man be +compelled to carry his labour elsewhere, few will hesitate on the +decision; and the case would be no less clear if a machine were +invented to-morrow for turning out handsome stone houses at the rate +of six in a day. There would be great suffering among bricklayers +and builders for a time: but it would not be the less right that +society should be furnished with abundance of airy dwellings at a +cheap rate; and the new wants which would arise out of such an +invention, and the funds set free by it, would soon provide +bricklayers and builders, and their children after them, with other +employment in administering to other wants. From huts of boughs to +hovels of clay was an advance which called more labour into action, +though the weavers of twigs might not like to be obliged to turn +their skill to the making of fences instead of huts. From hovels of +clay to cottages of brick was a further step still, as, in addition +to the brick-makers, there must be carpenters and glaziers. From +cottages of brick to houses of stone was a yet greater advance, as +there must be masons, sawyers, painters, upholsterers, ironmongers, +cabinetmakers, and all their train of workmen. So far, the advance +has been made by means of an accumulation of capital, and a division +of labour, each dwelling requiring an ampler finishing than the +last, and a wider variety as well as a larger amount of labour. If, +by a stupendous invention, ready-made mansions should succeed, to be +had at half the cost, the other half of the present cost would +remain to be given for a yet ampler furnishing, or for providing +conservatories, or hanging gardens, or museums, or whatever else +might have become matters of taste: while the poor would remove into +the vacated brick-houses, and the cottages be left to be inhabited +by cows, and the cowsheds, perhaps, by pigs, and the pigsties be +demolished; and so there would be a general advance, every one being +a gainer in the end. + +Perhaps a few people were very well content, once upon a time, with +their occupation of wading in the ponds and ditches of Egypt, to +gather the papyrus, and with pressing and drying the leaves, and +glueing them crosswise, and polishing them for the style with which +they were to be written upon: and these people might think it very +hard that any better paper should ever be used to the exclusion of +theirs. Yet wide-spreading generations of their children are now +employed in the single department of providing the gums and oils +required in the composition of the inks which would never have been +known if papyrus had been used at this day. If we consider the +labour employed in the other departments of inkmaking, and in the +preparation of the rags of which paper is made, and in the making +and working of the mills from which the beautiful substance issues +as if created by invisible hands, and in packing, carrying, and +selling the quires and reams, and in printing them, and in +constructing and managing the stupendous machinery by which this +part of the process is carried on, we shall be quite willing to +leave the papyrus to be the home of the dragon-fly, as before the +art of writing was known. Saying nothing of the effects of the +enlarged communication of minds by means of paper, looking only to +the amount of labour employed, who will now plead the cause of the +papyrus-gatherers against the world? + +A distinction is, however, made by those who complain of human +labour being superseded, between a new provision of material, and a +change in the method of working it up. They allow that, as rags make +better writing material than papyrus, rags should be used; but +contend that if men can dip sieves of the pulp of rags into water, +and press the substance between felt, it is a sin to employ a +cylinder of wire and a mechanical press to do the same. But this +distinction is merely imaginary. If we could employ a man to sow +rags and reap paper, we should think it a prodigious waste of time +and pains to get paper in the old method; and we do sow rags in the +cistern and reap paper from the cylinder; the only difference being, +that instead of dew we use spring water, and iron wheels instead of +the plough and harrow, and artificial heat instead of sunshine. We +might as well wish to keep our agricultural labourers busy all the +year trying to manufacture wheat in our farm-house kitchens as recur +to the old methods of making paper; and the consumers of bread and +of books would fall off in numbers alike in either case. + +Instances without end might be adduced to prove the inevitable +progress of art and extension of wealth; and they might not be +useless, since there is still a strong prevailing prejudice against +the beneficent process by which the happiness of the greatest number +is incessantly promoted, and a remarkable blindness as to the +tendency and issues of the ordination by which an economy of labour +is made at the same time the inevitable result of circumstances, and +the necessary condition of increased happiness. But though the time +already spent upon a subject not new may be no more than its +importance demands, my remaining space may be better employed in a +sketch of the spread of one ingredient of human comfort than in the +mere mention of a variety of similar cases. The instance I have +chosen is one where the advance has been wholly owing to improvement +in the use of a material which seems to have always abounded. + +There is no record of a time when there were not goats and sheep +enough to supply clothing to the keepers of the herds, or when their +fleeces were not used for this purpose in some parts of the world. +While the barbarians of the north dressed themselves in skins, the +inhabitants of temperate regions seem to have enjoyed the united +lightness and warmth of fabrics of wool. The patriarchs of Asia +gathered their flocks about their tents in the earliest days of +which history tells; and it was the recorded task of their slaves to +wash the fleeces, and of their wives to appoint the spinning of the +wool to the maidens of their train. The Arabian damsels carried with +them their primitive looms wherever they journeyed; and set up their +forked sticks in the sand when they stopped for the night, and fixed +the warp and wrought the woof before the sun went down. The most +ancient of Egyptian mummies has its woven bandages. In the most +remote traffic of the Tartar tribes fleeces were a medium of +exchange; and the distaff is found among the imagery of even the +earliest Scandinavian poetry. When the Romans, skilled in the choice +of fabrics and of dyes, came over to this island, they taught its +barbarian dames to leave off rubbing wolf-skins with stones to make +them smooth, and dipping them in water to make them soft, and put +into their hands the distaff, which was to be found in every home of +the Roman dependencies, and instructed them in the use of a more +convenient loom than that of the Arabian wanderers. For several +hundred years it seems that this remained a purely domestic +manufacture; but, as the arts of life improved, it became worth +while for the housewives to relax in their spinning and weaving, and +exchange the products of their own or their husbands’ labour for the +cloth of the manufacturers. There was better cloth in Flanders, +however, by the beginning of the thirteenth century; and it was +found profitable to weave less, and grow more wool for exportation. +The British dames might still carry their spindles when they went +out to look for their pet lambs on the downs, but it was less with a +view to broad cloths than to hose,—not knitted, for knitting was +unknown, but made of a ruder kind of cloth. There were abundance of +English who would have been very glad of the occupation of weaving +fine cloth which the Flemings had now all to themselves; but they +could not obtain it till they had adopted and accustomed themselves +to the improved methods of the Flemings; and as they were slow in +doing this, they were assisted by Edward III., who invited over +Flemish manufacturers, to teach these improved methods. Having +brought them over, the next step necessary was to guard their lives +from their English pupils, who would not hear of spinning by wheel, +because the wheel did twice as much work as the distaff; or of +winding the yarn and arranging the warp and woof otherwise than by +the fingers, because many fingers wanted to be employed; or of using +new drugs lest the old druggists should be superseded, or of fulling +by any other means than treading the cloth in water. If it had not +been that the King was more long-sighted than his people, these +Flemings would have been torn to pieces, or, at best, sent home in a +panic; and the English would have lost the woollen manufacture for +many a year, or for ever. + +Woollen cloth was very dear in those days. In the fourth year of +Henry VII., it was ordered by law what should be the highest price +given per yard for "a broad yard of the finest scarlet grained, or +of other grained cloth of the finest making;"—viz., as much labour +and subsistence as could be exchanged for 6_l._ 16_s._ of our +present money. Now, there could not be any very large number of +customers in England at that time who could afford to pay 6_l._ +16_s._ per yard for fine cloth, even if they had not had the +temptation of getting it cheaper and better from Flanders. The +manufacture must have been a very trifling one, and there must have +been a sad number of sufferers from cold and damp, who, in those +days of ill-built and ill-furnished houses, would have been very +glad of the woollen clothing which none but the very rich could +obtain. If their rulers had allowed them to get it cheaper and +better from Flanders, the home manufacture would have been thereby +stimulated, extended, and improved; but, under the idea of +protecting the English manufacture, it was made a punishable offence +to buy cloth woven by any but Englishmen, and to send wool out of +the kingdom. Laws like these (and there were many such during many +reigns) did all that could be done for keeping the manufacture in +few hands, and preventing the spread of this great article of +comfort: but nature was too strong for governments; and it was shown +that while there were flocks on the hills, and sickly people +shivering in the damps of the valleys, no human power could prevent +their striving to have garments of wool for the day and coverlets of +wool for the night. In the remote country places of Yorkshire, the +people began to encourage one another in spreading the manufacture, +to the great discomfiture of the weavers of York, who dreaded +nothing so much as that the fabric should become cheaper and +commoner. Henry VIII. declared that York had been upheld, and should +be upheld, by this exclusive manufacture; that Worcester alone +should supply its county and neighbourhood, and that worsted yarn +was the private commodity of the city of Norwich: but Henry VIII. +spoke in vain. As long as there were streams among the Yorkshire +hills where fulling-mills could be worked, the people of York might +go on treading with the feet, and offering inferior cloth at a +higher price; the people would not have it. The cloth from the +fulling mills, and the engine-wound yarn, were sold as fast as they +could be prepared, and the men of York and Norwich were obliged to +use fulling mills and winding machinery, or give up their trade. +They submitted, and sold more cloth than ever, and gained more as +their fabric became cheaper and commoner. Queen Elizabeth allowed +wool to be freely carried out of the kingdom; and the prosperity of +the manufacture increased wonderfully in consequence. More wool was +grown, and there was inducement to take pains with its quality. Not +only did the gentlemen of the court delight themselves in the +superior fineness of their scarlet and purple stuffs, but many a +little maiden in farmhouse or cottage rejoiced in a Christmas +present of a substantial petticoat of serge or cloak of kersey. + +The more was wanted, the further inducement there was to make a +greater quantity with the same capital; in other words, to abridge +the labour: and then followed improvement upon improvement in the +machinery employed, which again extended the demand and caused more +labour to be employed. The being able to get more cloth for less +money served as a far better encouragement of the manufacture than +Charles the Second’s law that all the dead should be buried in +woollen shrouds. From this time, nothing could stop the spread of +comfortable clothing. Even the cotton manufacture,—the most +prodigious addition to national resources that ever arose,—proved a +pure addition. Society has not worn the less wool for it, but only +the more cotton. How stands the case now? + +The value of the woollen manufactured articles of Great Britain +alone now exceeds 20,000,000_l._ a year; and the manufacture employs +500,000 persons:—and these, not spinning and weaving, with all +imaginable awkwardness and toil, just enough for their own families, +but producing with rapidity and ease finished fabrics with which to +supply not only the multitudes of their own country, but the Russian +boors in their winter dwellings, the Greek maidens on the shores of +their islands, the boatmen of the Nile, the dancing girls of Ceylon, +the negro slaves of Jamaica, the fishermen of Java and the peasantry +of Hayti, the sunburnt Peruvian when he goes out defended against +the chilly dews of the evening, and the half-frozen Siberian when he +ventures to face the icy wind for the sake of the faint gleams of +noon. Our looms and mills are at work in Prussian villages and +beside Saxon streams. The Turk meets the Frank on the Oder, to +exchange the luxuries of the one for the comforts of the other. The +merchants of the world meet at the great fair of Leipsic, and thence +drop the fabrics of European looms in every region through which +they pass. There are shepherds on the wide plains of Van Diemen’s +Land, and on the hills of the Western World, preparing employment +and custom for the operative who sits at his loom at Leeds, and the +spinner who little dreams from what remote parts gain will come to +him at Bradford. And the market is only beginning to be opened yet. +Besides the multitudes still to arise in the countries just named, +there are innumerable tribes of Chinese, of Hindoos, of Persians, of +dwellers in Africa and South America, who yet have to learn the +comfort of woollen clothing. Will not the Greenlanders seek it too? +And who needs it so much as the Esquimaux? All these will in time be +customers, if we do but permit the commodity to be brought naturally +within their reach. + +Would it have been right that all these should be sacrificed to the +wishes of the little company of spinners by hand and treaders with +the feet? Would not that little company and their children’s +children have been sacrificed at the same time? + +In all other instances of the introduction of machinery, as in this, +the interests of masters and men are identical. To make more with +less cost is the true policy of the one, in order that it may bring +the advantage of obtaining more with less cost to the other. That +is, the utmost economy of labour and capital should be the common +aim of both. + +A real cause of regret is that the invention of machinery has not +yet advanced far enough. This is an evil which is sure to be +remedied as time passes on; and perhaps the advance has been as +rapid as has been consistent with the safety of society. But as long +as there are purely mechanical employments which shorten life and +stunt the intellect, we may be sure that man has not risen to his +due rank in the scale of occupation, and that he is doing the work +of brute matter. As long as the sharpener of needles bends coughing +over his work, and young children grow puny amidst the heated +atmosphere of spinning factories, and the life of any human being is +passed in deep places where God’s sunshine never reaches, and others +grope with the hands after one servile task in a state of mental +darkness, we may be sure that we have not discovered all the means +and applied all the powers which are placed within our reach. It is +necessary that steel should be ground; but the day will come when it +shall be a marvel that men died to furnish society with sharp +needles. It is necessary that cotton threads should be tied as they +break; but it cannot for ever be that life should be made a long +disease, and the spirit be permitted to lie down in darkness in the +grave for such a purpose as this. If society understood its true +interest, all its members would unite to hasten the time when there +shall be no unskilled labour appointed to human hands. It is far +nobler to superintend an engine than to be an engine; and when all +experience proves that a hundred such superintendents are wanted in +the place of one of the ancient human instruments, it appears truly +wonderful that men should resist a progression which at once +increases the comforts of multitudes, ensures the future prosperity +of multitudes more, and enhances the dignity of man by making him +the master of physical forces instead of the slave of his fellow +man. + +Next to providing for the increase of Capital by direct saving, and +by economy of the labour which is the source of capital, it is +important to economize capital in its application. One principle of +this economy,—that capital is most productive when applied in large +quantities to large objects,—is illustrated by the comparative +results of large and small farming. + + ------- + +PRODUCTION being the great end in the employment of labour and +capital, that application of both which secures the largest +production is the best. + +Large capitals, well managed, produce in a larger proportion than +small. + +In its application to land, for instance, a large capital employs +new powers of production,—as in the cultivation of wastes; + +– – – enables its owner to wait for ample but distant returns,—as in + planting; + +– – – facilitates the division of labour; + +– – – – – the succession of crops, or division of time; + +– – – – – reproduction, by economizing the investment of fixed + capital; + +– – – – – the economy of convertible husbandry; + +– – – – – the improvement of soils by manuring, irrigation, &c.; + +– – – – – the improvement of implements of husbandry; + +– – – – – the improvement of breeds of live stock. + +Large capitals also provide + + for the prevention of famine, by furnishing a variety of food; + and for the regular supply of the market, by enabling + capitalists to wait for their returns. + +Large capitals, therefore, are preferable to an equal aggregate +amount of small capitals, for two reasons, viz.: + + they occasion a large production in proportion; and they + promote, by means peculiar to themselves, the general safety and + convenience. + +Capitals may, however, be too large. They are so when they become +disproportioned to the managing power. + +The interest of capitalists best determines the extent of capital; +and any interference of the law is, therefore, unnecessary. + +The interference of the law is injurious; as may be seen by the +tendency of the law of Succession in France to divide properties too +far, and of the law of Primogeniture in England to consolidate them +too extensively. + +The increase of agricultural capital provides a fund for the +employment of manufacturing and commercial, as well as agricultural, +labour. + +The interests of the manufacturing and agricultural classes are +therefore not opposed to each other, but closely allied. + + -------------- + +The same principle applies, of course, in all cases where an +extensive production is the object, and points out the utility of +associations of capitalists for many of the higher aims of human +industry. A union of capitals is perhaps as excellent an expedient +as a division of labour, and will probably be universally so +considered ere long. If it be an advantageous agreement for six +cabinet-makers that two should saw the wood for a table, and one +square it, and another turn the legs, and a fifth put it together, +and the sixth polish it, one set instead of six of each kind of tool +being made to suffice, it is no less obvious that six owners of so +many fields will also gain by uniting their forces,—by making one +set of farm-buildings suffice, by using fewer and better implements, +and securing a wider range for a variety of crops and for the +management of their live stock. In like manner, twenty fishermen, +instead of having twenty cockle-shell boats among them, in which no +one can weather a stormy night, may find prodigious gain in giving +up their little boats for one or two substantial vessels, in which +they may make a wide excursion, and bring home an ample prey to +divide among them. This is the principle of mining associations, and +of fishing and commercial companies; and it might ere this have +become the principle of all extensive undertakings for purposes of +production, if some of the evils which crowd round the early +operations of good principles had not been in their usual punctual +attendance. Such associations have led to monopoly, and have been +injured by wastefulness in the management of their affairs. But the +evils savour of barbarism, while the principle is one of high +civilization. The evils are easily remediable and will certainly be +remedied, while the principle cannot be overthrown. + +Many, however, who do not dispute the principle, object to its +application in particular cases, on moral grounds. They say “Let +there be mining companies, for not one man in a million is rich +enough to work a mine by himself; but let the race of little farmers +be preserved, for we have seen that one man, though not rich, may +cultivate his little farm;” and then follow praises, not undeserved +in their season, of the position and occupation of the small farmer, +and lamentations, but too well-founded, over the condition of +agricultural labourers at the present time. + +The question is, _can_ the race of small farmers be revived? It +cannot. The question is not now, as it was when the country was +underpeopled, and the nation comparatively unburdened, whether the +labouring class cannot be kept more innocent when scattered in the +service of small proprietors than when banded in companies as now; +or whether the small proprietor was not happier as a complacent +owner than as a humbled labourer? The days are past when this might +be a question. The days are past of animal satisfaction and rural +innocence in a rambling old farm-house. The days of a competition +for bread are come, and rural innocence has fled away under the +competition;—to give place to something better, no doubt, when the +troubled stage of transition is passed,—but, still, not to be +recalled. A very small capital stands no chance when the +tax-gatherer is at the farmer’s heels, and the pressing cry for +bread can be met only by practising new, and more costly, and more +extensive methods of tillage every day. The partial tax-gatherers +may and will be got rid of; but the land will not again be +underpeopled, and therefore tillage will not revert to the ancient +methods, nor fields be held under the ancient tenure. Production is +now the great aim; and unless small farming can be shown to be more +productive than large, small farming must come to an end, unless in +cases where it is pursued for amusement. Whenever the oak shall be +persuaded to draw back its suckers into the ground, whenever the +whole of the making of each pin shall be done by one hand, the old +system of farming may be revived. Then an ounce of pins must serve a +city, and a loaf a month must suffice for a household; and if corn +is brought in from abroad to supply the deficiency, the home-farmer +must be immediately ruined by the dearness of his own corn in +comparison with that which is grown in far places. Large capitalists +can alone bear up against taxation and protection, at present; and +large capitalists alone can stand the competition when freedom of +trade in corn shall at length be obtained. Since the time for a +country being underpeopled must cease, and the most extensive +production must then become for a period the chief object, nothing +can be plainer than that it has been settled, from the beginning of +time, that small farming capitals must merge in large. It is not our +present business to inquire what state of things will next succeed. + +Let us not leave the topic, however, under an impression that the +state we are passing through is one of unmixed gloom and perplexity. +Our agricultural population is in a very deplorable condition,— +ill-fed, untaught, and driven by hardship to the very verge of +rebellion; but these evils are caused by the inadequateness of +ancient methods, and not by the trial of new ones. More food and +other comforts must be found for them, and they must be instructed +not to increase the pressure upon the supply of food. In the mean +time, it is a decided gain to have discovered and to be discovering +methods of securing a greater production at a less cost. If such +discoveries go on, (and go on they must,) and our agricultural +population grows wiser by instruction and experience as to the means +of living, independence of spirit and of action will revive, (though +there be no small farms,) virtue may take the place of mere +innocence, and bands of labourers may be as good and happy in their +cottages as ever farmer and his servants were when collected in the +farm-house kitchen. They may meet in church as efficaciously when +the bell calls them each from his own home, as when they walked, +many at the heels of one. In one essential respect, there is a +probability of a grand improvement on the good old times. In those +times, the farmer’s eldest son too often followed the plough with +little more sense of what was about him than the tiller he held. His +much boasted innocence neither opened his eyes to the lights of +heaven nor gladdened his heart amidst the vegetation which he +resembled much more than he admired. Hereafter, the youngest child +of the meanest servant of the farm will look and listen among God’s +works with the intellectual eye and ear, with which the enlightened +mechanic already explores the widely-different field in which he is +placed. Whencesoever came the demon breath which kindled our +farm-yard fires, they have flashed wisdom on the minds of our +rulers, and are lighting the labourer’s path to knowledge. The evil, +though deplorable, is calculable and remediable. Who shall estimate +the approaching good? + + -------------- + +There is in my Series one other chapter of principles, under the +head of PRODUCTION. The time for its insertion in this place is +past; and, on the principle of “forgetting those things which are +behind,” I should have omitted all allusion to it, if the Number I +am writing had been destined to circulate only in this country. But +a large proportion of my readers are of a nation which has not yet +absolved itself from the tremendous sin of holding man as property. +Of the difficulties in the way of such absolution, it is for them, +not for me, to speak. My business is with principles. Those which +have obtained my assent are offered in the subjoined note, and +humbly commended to my foreign readers.[B] The summary is placed +there because I wish to introduce into the body of my text nothing +which is irrelevant to the state and prospects of British society. A +stronger acknowledgment than this of the blessedness of our penitent +state, it is not in my power to make,—or I would make it. It may be +that for centuries we may have to witness the remaining sufferings +and degradation of those whom we have injured, and perhaps even yet +to bear many painful consequences of our long transgression against +the rights of man. But the weight of guilt is thrown off, the act of +confession is made, and that of atonement is about to follow; and +all the rest may well be borne. + +----- + +Footnote B: + + PROPERTY is held by conventional, not natural, right. + + As the agreement to hold man in property never took place between + the parties concerned, i. e., is not conventional, man has no + right to hold man in property. + + LAW, i. e., the sanctioned agreement of the parties concerned, + secures property. + + Where one of the parties under the law is held as property by + another party, the law injures the one or the other as often as + they are opposed. More-over, its very protection injures the + protected party: as when a rebellious slave is hanged. + + -------------- + + Human labour is more valuable than brute labour, only because + actuated by reason; for human strength is inferior to brute + strength. + + The origin of labour, human and brute, is the will. + + The reason of slaves is not subjected to exercise, nor their will + to more than a few weak motives. + + The labour of slaves is therefore less valuable than that of + brutes, inasmuch as their strength is inferior; and less valuable + than that of free labourers, inasmuch as their reason and will are + feeble and alienated. + + -------------- + + Free and slave labour are equally owned by the capitalist. + + When the labourer is not held as capital, the capitalist pays for + labour only. + + When the labourer is held as capital, the capitalist not only pays + a much higher price for an equal quantity of labour, but also for + waste, negligence, and theft, on the part of the labourer. + + Capital is thus sunk which ought to be reproduced. + + As the supply of slave labour does not rise and fall with the + wants of the capitalist, like that of free labour, he employs his + occasional surplus on works which could be better done by brute + labour or machinery. + + By rejecting brute labour, he refuses facilities for convertible + husbandry, and for improving the labour of his slaves by giving + them animal food. + + By rejecting machinery, he declines the most direct and complete + method of saving labour. + + Thus, again, capital is sunk which ought to be reproduced. + + In order to make up for this loss of capital to slave-owners, + bounties and prohibitions are granted in their behalf by + government; the waste committed by certain capitalists abroad + being thus paid for out of the earnings of those at home. + + Sugar being the production especially protected, every thing is + sacrificed by planters to the growth of sugar. The land is + exhausted by perpetual cropping, the least possible portion of it + is tilled for food, the slaves are worn out by overwork, and their + numbers decrease in proportion to the scantiness of their food and + the oppressiveness of their toil. + + When the soil is so far exhausted as to place the owner out of + reach of the sugar-bounties, more food is raised, less toil is + inflicted, and the slave population increases. + + Legislative protection, therefore, not only taxes the people at + home, but promotes ruin, misery, and death, in the protected + colonies. + + A free trade in sugar would banish slavery altogether, since + competition must induce an economy of labour and capital; i. e., a + substitution of free for slave labour. + + Let us see then what is the responsibility of the legislature in + this matter. + + The slave system inflicts an incalculable amount of human + suffering, for the sake of making a wholesale waste of labour and + capital. + + Since the slave system is only supported by legislative + protection, the legislature is responsible for the misery caused + by direct infliction, and for the injury indirectly occasioned by + the waste of labour and capital. + +----- + +The next duty to reparation for injury is silence upon the sin: +there is contamination in the contemplation of every indulged sin, +even when the indulgence is past. Such a sin as this should be to a +nation what an act of shame is to an individual—a remembrance to be +strenuously banished, lest it weaken the energy which should press +forward to better things. This should be one of the secrets known to +all—a circumstance plunged in significant oblivion, like that in +which the historians of the Jews have striven to bury the event of +the crucifixion. May the consequences in the two cases, however, be +as widely different as penitent and impenitent shame! The wonder of +succeeding ages at our guilt must be endured; but it will not, let +us hope, be made a by-word of reproach against us for ever. When +kindred nations shall have been induced to share our emancipation, +rebuke and recrimination may cease; the dead will have buried their +dead, and the silence of the grave will rest upon them. If we now do +our duty fully to those whom we have injured, even they may, +perhaps, spare us all future mention of their wrongs. Meantime, it +is an unspeakable blessing that, ignorant and unjust as we may still +be in the distribution of the wealth which Providence gives us, +there is now no crying sin connected with the methods of its +production; no national remorse need now silence our acknowledgments +of the bounty by which the gratification of human wishes is destined +to advance, according to a law of perpetual progression. + + + + + ----------------------- + + PART II. + +In the early days of society, it is natural enough for men to take +what they can find or make, without giving themselves any trouble +about analyzing their wealth, or philosophizing about its +distribution. When, however, the desires of some begin to interfere +with those of others, and production does not, in particular +instances, abound as was expected, and sudden and manifold claims +for a provision arise, and can with difficulty be met, men +necessarily begin, however late, to examine their resources, and +investigate the demands upon them. Only very remote approaches to a +true analysis may be made at first; and the consequences of a +hundred pernicious mistakes must probably be borne before any thing +like a fair distribution can be so much as conceived of. But time +and experience are certain to originate the conception, as is proved +by the rise of the science of Political Economy; and there is every +reason to believe that time and experience will exalt the conception +into action, and lead to a wise application of the splendid +apparatus of human happiness which has been confided to the hands of +society. Every mistake has hitherto issued in the furtherance of +this end, according to the uniform plan under which the affairs of +men are administered. It has been discovered that the race cannot +live upon labour without its reward, and that to be numerous is not +of itself to be happy; and there is a relaxation of effort to force +the multiplication of the race. It has been discovered that land of +itself is not wealth, and that our condition would be deplorable if +it were so, since land does not improve of itself, but deteriorates +as the race which subsists upon it is multiplied. It is discovered +that money is not wealth; that the tenants of different localities +do not flourish at one another’s expense; and that wealth cannot be +distributed according to the arbitrary pleasure of rulers. Many +other ancient convictions are now found to be delusions; and, what +is better still, the grand principles are fully established which +may serve as a key to all the mysteries relating to the distribution +of wealth. Their application may require much time and patience; but +we have them safe. Their final general adoption may be regarded as +certain, and an incalculable amelioration of the condition of +society must follow of course. + +These principles are two:—That, owing to the inequality of soils +(the ultimate capital of society), the natural tendency of capital +is to yield a perpetually diminishing return;—and that the consumers +of capital increase at a perpetually accelerated rate. + +The operation of these principles may be modified to any extent by +the influence of others: but they exist; they are fully ascertained; +and must henceforth serve as guides to all wise attempts to rectify +an unjust distribution of the wealth of society. It is difficult to +conceive how any sound mind can have withheld its assent to these +grand principles, after they had once been clearly announced. It is +very evident that some soils possess a far inferior power of +producing food to others; and that, in the natural course of things, +society will till the best soils first, and then the next best, and +then soils of the third degree, and so on, as the demand for food +increases; and that, as each adopted soil will yield less than the +last, every application of capital will yield a smaller return—all +applications of capital being regulated by the primary application +of capital to land. It is difficult to see how this general +principle can be disputed, however large may be the allowance +required for the influence of other principles. Improvements in +tillage, yet undreamed of, may increase the produce incalculably; +but this increased produce will still be subjected to the same law. +There will be an inequality of improved as of unimproved soils. New +powers, chemical and mechanical, may be brought to bear on the soil +for ever and ever; and still the same law must hold good while there +is an original inequality in the material on which those powers are +employed. Whether we obtain our food from the sea, or from new +regions of the earth,—if we could fetch it down from the moon, or up +from the centre of the globe,—the principle must hold good as long +as there are limited and varying facilities for obtaining this food, +and an increasing demand for it. More labour and more would be given +to answer each new demand; and the return would still be less, till +it came to a vanishing point. + +If this labour were that of stocks and stones in the service of a +reasonable number of men, the simple fact would be that this +reasonable number of men must live upon the produce of the labour +already set in motion. But the labour in question is human labour, +which eats in proportion as it works, and multiplies itself faster +by far than it can augment its supply of food. The proprietor of a +field feeds his five children from it, till they each have five +children, and each of these five children in their turn. Does the +produce of the paternal field augment itself five times, and then +twenty-five times, to suit the growing wants of the new generations? +It may possibly be made to yield double, and then three times, and +then four times what it once did; but no kind or degree of skill can +make the ratio of its productiveness the same as that of human +increase. What primary rule of practice follows from the combination +of these two principles? + + -------------- + +The increase of population is necessarily limited by the means of +subsistence. + +Since successive portions of capital yield a less and less return, +and the human species produce at a constantly accelerated rate, +there is a perpetual tendency in population to press upon the means +of subsistence. + +The ultimate checks by which population is kept down to the level of +the means of subsistence, are vice and misery. + +Since the ends of life are virtue and happiness, these checks ought +to be superseded by the milder methods which exist within man’s +reach. + +These evils may be delayed by promoting the increase of capital, and +superseded by restraining the increase of population. + +Towards the one object, a part of society may do a little; towards +the other, all may do much. + +By rendering property secure, expenditure frugal, and production +easy, society may promote the growth of capital. + +By bringing no more children into the world than there is a +subsistence provided for, society may preserve itself from the +miseries of want. In other words, the timely use of the mild +preventive check may avert the horrors of any positive check. + +The preventive check becomes more, and the positive checks less +powerful, as society advances. + +The positive checks, having performed their office in stimulating +the human faculties, and originating social institutions, must be +wholly superseded by the preventive check before society can attain +its ultimate aim,—the greatest happiness of the greatest number. + + -------------- + +However the wealth of society may be distributed,—whether among the +three classes who, at present, in all civilized countries, divide +it, or among the partakers of a common stock, (according to the +desire of some who mourn our evils, and look, as others think, in a +wrong place for the remedy),—however the wealth of society may be +distributed, the above principles are of the highest concern to the +whole of society. Some may feel sooner than others the pressure of +population against the means of subsistence; but it ultimately +concerns all, to the last degree, that there should be subsistence +for the race. This consideration is prior to all others which relate +only to the modes and degrees in which wealth shall be shared by +various classes. There is little wisdom in fixing a scale of +enjoyments while society is laid open to vice, disease, and death,— +the awful retribution for a careless administration of the common +possession.—Yet the policy of rulers,—of rulers by office and by +influence,—has, till very lately, been to stimulate population +without any regard to the subsistence provided for it. The plea has +always been that every man born into the world brings with him the +labour which will support more than himself: but each must also +bring with him the land on which his labour is to be employed, or he +may find it no more possible to live upon labour than to live upon +air. There is never any fear that population will not increase fast +enough, as its increase is absolutely determined by the existing +means for its support. But there is a perpetual danger that it may +increase too fast for the purposes of the ruler; and, for what has +but too seldom entered into his purposes,—the happiness of his +people. If he looks to the narratives of wars, he may find that the +subsistence of armies has always failed sooner than men, though its +armed force can never compose more than a small portion of any +nation. He will find in the history of every state that when the +over-pressure of the people upon its food, partially and most +painfully kept down by the death of its infants and its aged, and of +those who have grown sickly through want, has been yet more +fearfully relieved by the agency of famine and pestilence, a new +impulse is invariably given, far more efficacious than the bidding +of any sovereign. It is folly, he may thus see, to lash the dull +tide of a swollen river when banked up so that it cannot flow; and +when a portion of its waters are drawn off, the stream runs fast +enough of itself. If the power of a ruler were to be estimated by +the rate at which he could induce the increase of his subjects, +which would be the most powerful,—the Emperor of China or the King +of Hayti? The Haytian empire is insignificant enough in comparison +of the Chinese; but the Haytian king sees his subjects multiplying, +amidst their superabundance of food, at a rate hitherto unsurpassed; +while the Chinese can multiply no more till they can enlarge the +extent of their food. Under the stimulus of royal promises, children +may be born; but by the command of a higher authority, they die. The +laws of nature are too strong for kings. In this case, the bidding +is either needless or unavailing. + +Any power of stimulus which rulers possess should be otherwise +applied,—to the production of subsistence. If the plain rule were +followed, of making increased subsistence _precede_ an increase of +population, the great work of the distribution of wealth would +follow its own natural laws; and men would only have to participate +and be content. When the final cause of the arrangement by which +population has been ordained to press against the means of +subsistence shall have wrought its work in stimulating the human +faculties, and opening up new resources to the race, there will be +as ample an enjoyment of the blessings of life as the warmest +advocate of numbers can desire,—an enjoyment infinitely greater for +the absence of all deadly struggle or pining desire for a due share +of the bounties of nature’s mighty feast. + +At present, however, while we have the pride of luxury within our +palaces, and famine at their gates, it is necessary to ascertain how +the two principles announced above affect the distribution of the +wealth of society. + +The uncontrolled operation of these principles will be found the +main cause of the tremendous inequality of possession in society; +and if society wishes to put an end to such inequality, it must be +done by suiting the proceedings of society to these principles, and +not by any temporary measures. If the possessions of the richest of +our peers were to-morrow to be divided among the poorest of our +operatives and country labourers, no permanent relief to the latter +class would be obtained by beggaring the former, and the same +principles would go on working, the day after, to produce in time +precisely similar results. Even if it were the practice with us, as +it was with the Jews, that land should revert to the original +possessors, at certain fixed periods, the same laws would work; and +to even greater disadvantage than now, as the land-owners would not +be so rich, while the labourers would be quite as poor. Property +would run less into masses; but there would be less wealth to be +amassed. There is no use in opposition to these principles, or in +discontent at their natural results. The true wisdom is in modifying +the results by practically recognizing the principle. We must +control the rise of rent by stimulating agricultural improvements, +and preventing the demand for food from outstripping them. We must +moderate the pressure upon the subsistence, or wages fund, by +regulating the numbers who are to share it. We must moderate the +pressure against the profits fund, by keeping the demands upon the +wages fund within due bounds.[C] + +----- + +Footnote C: + + It is well known that there are persons in this country, as in + France and elsewhere, who hold the opinion that the evils of + unequal distribution would be annihilated by annihilating the + distinctions of rent, profits, and wages; making the whole society + the sole landowner and capitalist, and all its members labourers. + It is impossible to doubt the benevolent intentions of the leading + preachers of this doctrine, whose exertions have originated in + sympathy with the most-suffering portion of the community; but it + is equally impossible to their opponents to allow that any + arbitrary arrangements of existing resources can exclude want, + while the primary laws of proportion are left uncontrolled. When + the advocates of a common stock can show that their system + augments capital and regulates population more effectually than + the system under which individual property is held, their + pretensions will be regarded with more favour than they have + hitherto engaged. At present, it is pretty evident that in no way + is capital so little likely to be taken care of as when it belongs + to every body,—_i.e._ to nobody; and that, but for the barriers of + individual rights of property, the tide of population would flow + in with an overwhelming force. There may be an age to come when + the institution of property shall cease with the occasions for it; + but such an age is barely within our ken. Meantime, our pauper + system exhibits the consequences of a promise of maintenance + without a restriction of numbers by the state. If it were possible + now to establish common-stock institutions which should include + the entire community, they would soon become so many workhouses, + or pauper barracks. If any one doubts this, let him ask himself + how capital is to be husbanded and cherished when it is nobody’s + interest to take care of it, and how population is to be regulated + when even the present insufficient restraints are taken away. If + education is to supply the deficiency of other stimuli and + restraints, let us have education in addition. We want it enough + as an addition before we can think of trying it as a substitution. + We must see our fathers of families exemplary in providing for + their own offspring before they can be trusted to labour and deny + themselves from an abstract sense of duty. As for the main + principle of the objections to the abolition of proprietorship, it + is contained in the following portion of one of my summaries of + principles:— + + It is supposed by some that these tendencies to the fall of wages + and profits may be counteracted by abolishing the distinctions of + shares, and casting the whole produce of land, capital, and + labour, into a common stock. But this is a fallacy. + + For, whatever may be the saving effected by an extensive + partnership, such partnership does not affect the natural laws by + which population increases faster than capital. The diminution of + the returns to capital must occasion poverty to a multiplying + society, whether those returns are appropriated by individuals + under the competitive system, or equally distributed among the + members of a co-operative community. + + The same checks to the deterioration of the resources of society + are necessary under each system. + + These are, (in addition to the agricultural improvements + continually taking place,)— + + 1. The due limitation of the number of consumers. + + 2. The lightening of the public burdens, which at present + abstract a large proportion of profits and wages. + + 3. A liberal commercial system which shall obviate the necessity + of bringing poor soils into cultivation. + +----- + +The wealth of society naturally distributes itself between two +classes of capitalists, from one of which a portion descends to a +third class,—the labourers. The two classes of capitalists are, +first, the owners of land or water,—of the natural agents of +production,—and next, the farmers of land or water, or those who +employ, by the application of capital, the natural agents of +production. Each of the three classes obtains his share by +purchase,—original, or perpetually renewed—the landowner by the +secondary or hoarded labour of his ancestors or of his youth; the +capitalist by hoarded labour, and the purchased labour of his +servants; and the labourer by primary labour. The landowner receives +his share as rent; the capitalist as profits; the labourer as wages. + +Real RENT is that which is paid to the landowner for the use of the +original, indestructible powers of the soil. The total rent paid by +a farmer includes also the profits of the capital laid out by the +landowner upon the estate. + +Land possesses its original, indestructible powers in different +degrees. + +The most fertile being all appropriated, and more produce wanted, +the next best soil is brought into cultivation; then land of the +third degree, and so on, till all is tilled that will repay tillage. + +An unequal produce being yielded by these different lands, the +surplus return of all above the lowest goes to the landowner in the +form of rent. + +The same thing happens when repeated applications of capital are +made to the same land for the sake of increasing its productiveness. +The produce which remains over the return to the least productive +application of capital goes to the landowner in the form of rent. + +RENT, therefore, consists of that part of the return made to the +more productive portions of capital, by which it exceeds the return +made to the least productive portion. + +New lands are not tilled, and capital is not employed for a less +return, unless the produce will pay the cost of production. + +A rise of prices, therefore, creates, and is not created by, rent. + +When more capital is employed in agriculture, new land is tilled, a +further outlay is made on land already tilled; and thus also rent +arises from increase of capital. + +When capital is withdrawn from agriculture, inferior, _i. e._ the +most expensive soils, are let out of cultivation; and thus rent +falls. + +A rise of rent is, therefore, a symptom, and not a cause, of wealth. + +The tendency of rent is, therefore, to rise for ever in an improving +country. But there are counteracting causes. + +Art increases production beyond the usual returns to capital laid +out: prices fall in proportion to the abundance of the supply, and +rent declines. + +Improved facilities for bringing produce to market, by increasing +the supply, cause prices to fall and rent to decline. + +COMMODITIES, being produced by capital and labour, are the joint +property of the capitalist and labourer. + +The capitalist pays in advance to the labourers their share of the +commodity, and thus becomes its sole owner. + +The portion thus paid is WAGES. + +REAL WAGES are the articles of use and consumption that the labourer +receives in return for his labour. + +NOMINAL WAGES are the portion he receives of these things reckoned +in money. + +The fund from which wages are paid in any country consists of the +articles required for the use and consumption of labourers which +that country contains. + +THE PROPORTION OF THIS FUND RECEIVED BY INDIVIDUALS MUST MAINLY +DEPEND ON THE NUMBER AMONG WHOM THE FUND IS DIVIDED. + +The rate of wages in any country depends, therefore, not on the +wealth which that country contains, but on the proportion between +its capital and its population. + +As population has a tendency to increase faster than capital, wages +can be prevented from falling to the lowest point only by adjusting +the proportion of population to capital. + +The lowest point to which wages can be permanently reduced, is that +which affords a bare subsistence to the labourer. + +The highest point to which wages can be permanently raised is that +which leaves to the capitalist just profit enough to make it worth +his while to invest capital. + +The variations of the rate of wages between these extreme points +depending mainly on the supply of labour offered to the capitalist, +the rate of wages is mainly determined by the sellers, not the +buyers of labour. + +The produce of labour and capital, after rent has been paid, is +divided between the labourer and the capitalist, under the name of +wages and profits. + +Where there are two shares, each determines the other, provided they +press equally upon one another. + +The increase of the supply of labour, claiming reward, makes the +pressure in the present case unequal, and renders wages the +regulator of profits. + +The restriction of the supply of food causes the fall of both +profits and wages. + +The increased expense of raising food enhances its price: labour, +both agricultural and manufacturing, becomes dearer (without +advantage to the labourer): this rise of wages causes profits to +fall; and this fall brings after it a reduction of the labourer’s +share, or a fall of wages. + +The fall of profits and wages is thus referable to the same cause +which raises rent;—to an inequality in the fertility of soils. + + -------------- + +Thus it appears that, owing to the inequality of soils, and the +principle of increase in the number of consumers, the natural +tendency of rent is to rise; and to rise in proportion to the +increase in the number of consumers. The tendency of profits is to +fall as rent rises, _i. e._ as the production of food becomes more +expensive. The fall of profits brings after it, as a necessary +consequence, the fall of wages; and the individual shares of wages +are still further reduced by every increase of the numbers among +whom the wages’ fund is to be divided. + +These are important truths, and by no means discouraging, if we know +how to make use of them. There is no need hastily to suppose that +our landowners must inevitably get all the wealth of society into +their own hands, so that there will in time be only two classes in +the state,—landowners and paupers. It is possible that this might +happen, as it is possible that we may all die of famine from nobody +choosing to be at the trouble of tilling the ground. The two cases +are possible, and the catastrophes about equally probable. No one +can deny the strong tendency to famine to which we are all liable +unless we exert ourselves to avoid it; and the undue rise of rent, +and fall of profits and wages, is quite as certainly avoided by +moderate caution—by bringing natural laws to bear upon each other, +and not (as some desire) a law of human will to control that which +is beyond the reach of the unassisted human will. + +Some who toil and earn but little recompense cry out upon the wealth +of the landowners, and desire a law which shall forbid their +receiving more than so much for a certain quantity and quality of +land. A law that men should not die in a famine would be as much to +the purpose. The way to prevent men dying of hunger is to sow grain +for them; and the way to prevent the landlords growing unduly rich +is to provide more food;—whether by improving the methods of tillage +at home, or inventing and improving productions of other kinds which +may exchange for food from abroad. Another way is by making +machinery (which does not eat and drink) supersede human labour, so +that we may have the increased production without the accompanying +consumption; but the most certain method of all, and that which is +in the power of all, is to proportion the number of consumers to the +existing supply of food. As soon as this is done, rents will be +stationary, and will be certain to fall after the next improvement +in tillage or manufacture. Meantime, the landowner can no more help +the rise of his rents than the poorest operative in the next town; +and, in fact, not so much, if that operative is bringing up a large +family to depreciate the value of labour, and increase the excessive +pressure upon food. The landlord, meantime, declares truly that he +is growing no richer. He is told that his rents have risen since +such a time; but (from various causes) his tenants cannot pay the +whole; and he is besides burdened with the maintenance of the +indigent who have been pauperized by the undue depression of wages. +No one would be more glad than he, to have his rents nominally +lowered so that he might receive the whole, and do what he pleased +with it. No one would be more glad than he, if he be wise, at the +tidings of fresh discoveries in science or inventions in art, or of +new resources opened beyond sea, or of increased providence in the +habits of the poorer classes, which should cause his income to fall +with the price of food, but render his lessened income more secure. + + -------------- + +It is of even greater consequence to ascertain the relative position +of the other two parties, since any quarrel about their respective +shares cannot but cause a diminution of that which is to be divided +between them. Each party being dependent upon the other, any +interruption of their harmony cannot but be injurious to both: but +dissension is especially disastrous where, as in the present case, +the dependence is unequal. The capitalists have the great advantage +over the labourers of being able to wait longer for the adjustment +of disputes which may arise between them. Deplorable as are the +consequences to individuals and to society of living upon capital +from the absence of revenue, the case of those who are driven to +live upon their capital is, at least, better than that of the party +which has no capital to live upon. + +The consequence of this inequality of dependence is that power of a +different kind is more frequently put in action by the more +dependent than by the less dependent party. The power of combination +to obtain a larger share of the subsistence fund is in the hands of +both parties, and is occasionally used by both; but much more +frequently by the labourers than by the capitalists. For this there +are obvious reasons. + +If the proportion of labour to capital be equal, there is little +inducement to either party to quarrel with the other, as their +shares of gain are balanced: but if any capitalists choose to press +upon the labourers, it is to their own ultimate disadvantage, as +well as that of the labourers; for there can never be a combination +so extensive as to include all capitalists; and those who are not +included will find it their interest to lower the prices of their +commodities, paying the same wages as the united capitalists, and +being content with the ordinary rate of profit. By means of this +underselling, the extraordinary rate of profit is necessarily +brought down, and the capitalists are just as they were at first, +the reduction having fallen upon the wages of the labourer. Matters +can seldom, however, proceed so far as to the infliction of this +gratuitous injury. If the proportion of labour to capital be equal, +a very short resistance of the labourers to the reduction of their +wages suffices to make the capitalists repent of their endeavours to +grasp more than their share: and such endeavours are consequently +extremely rare where capital and labour are duly proportioned. + +If there be a superabundance of capital, the capitalists are in no +condition to gain any thing by combination. To pay high wages +answers better to them than to live upon their capital. In such a +case, therefore, the capitalists never combine.—Or rather,—and I say +it with sorrow,—if such a case should arise, they would not combine. +Such cases can scarcely be spoken of in this country as matters of +actual experience, since there are but too few instances of capital +being abundant in proportion to labour. + +On the third supposition,—that labour abounds in proportion to +capital,—there is no need for the capitalists to use their power of +combination. They can obtain what they want without it. The +labourers are the weaker party, inasmuch as they must have food, and +depend on the capitalists for it:—not for the quantity;—that depends +on themselves,—on the numbers they bring to divide a certain +quantity;—and the capitalists can resist their claims no further +than to secure the rate of profit, without which no capitalist would +do business. Not for the quantity of food to each man do the +labourers depend on the capitalists; but for the purchase of their +labour at all; and therefore, the capitalists do not need to combine +when labour superabounds. + +For the same reasons, the labourers do not need to combine when +capital superabounds. They can naturally obtain as large a share of +the subsistence fund as will leave ordinary profits to the +capitalist: and this happens of course, as is well known from the +examples of newly settled countries, and newly invented +manufactures, where the profits of the capitalist are invariably +prevented by the dearness of labour from much exceeding the ordinary +rate. + +In cases of equal proportion, the labourers run even a greater risk +from a strike than the capitalists. Some of the capitalists will, if +the balance be exact, withdraw their capital from business rather +than stand a strike; and thus is caused an immediate superabundance +of labour, with all its disadvantages to the labourers. But if no +capitalist withdraws, the waste of capital necessarily caused by a +strike causes also a superabundance of labour; and thus also the +labourers suffer for having destroyed the balance. + +But when combination is resorted to in the absence of all other +power, its results are the most disastrous to the weak party which +employs it. The labourers who superabound are already at a +disadvantage, which can only be increased by any resistance which +helps to impoverish the capitalists. They may injure the capitalists +by impairing the capitalists’ share of the subsistence fund: but +they injure themselves much more by impairing, at the same time, the +labourers’ share. That such means of injuring capitalists are ever +resorted to in such a condition of affairs proves most forcibly that +the largest of the parties concerned is not yet fully aware how the +case stands, and that a far greater power of competition with the +capitalists is lodged with them than that which they are too ready +to employ to the injury of both parties and the good of neither. + +If it had been, indeed, true that, by any natural laws of +distribution, any class of society could be placed in a position of +necessary and permanent inferiority of rights to any other class, +all writers on the philosophy of society would have shrunk from +relating any fables which must convey so sad a moral. But there is a +very cheering moral involved in every melancholy story that we hear +of the contentions of masters and men, and of the sufferings which +thence arise. The fact is that, so far from the masters having any +natural power,—even if they had the wish,—to oppress the working +classes, the working classes hold a power which may make them the +equals in independence of any class in society. That they have not +yet used it is less their fault than their misfortune. Whether fault +or misfortune, it is destined to be remedied, if we may trust to +experience working its invariable work, and communicating that +wisdom and power which can by no other means be gained. The only +control over the price of labour resides with those who can control +its quantity. Overstock the market with labour, and the most +compassionate of capitalists can do nothing to prevent its being ill +rewarded. Understock the market with labour, and the veriest miser +that ever employed gold for profit cannot prevent labour fetching a +high price. And with whom does it rest to overstock or understock +the market with labour? With whom does it rest to determine whether +the subsistence fund which exists shall be divided among a moderate +number or among a scrambling multitude? Most assuredly not with the +capitalists but the labourers. + +When the labouring class fully comprehends the extent of the power +which it holds,—a power of obtaining not only its own terms from the +capitalists, but all the necessaries and comforts of life, and with +them the ease and dignity which become free-born men, they will turn +their other power of combination to better purposes than those of +annoyance and injury. The common plea of those labourers who already +understand their own case is that there is little use in scattered +individuals being careful to proportion their families to their +means of subsistence, while the greater number multiply +thoughtlessly, and prepare for new encroachments on the subsistence +fund. The same plea has been in use for ever on the first proposal +of any great social amelioration; and it has ever been found that +amelioration has followed with unexpected speed upon the virtuous +efforts of scattered individuals. They work round to each other, +they combine, they bring others into the combination, and these +again bring more, till there are hundreds of followers for every +leader, and for every follower there is a foe the less. Why should +it not be so with this greatest of all ameliorations that has ever +been proposed? If the working classes can still combine for objects +which have been a thousand times proved unattainable or hurtful when +attained, why should they not combine for purposes of providence and +mutual support in a better system of economy? Such combinations have +already begun; for every society which has for its objects the +economy of the resources of the working people, and the +encouragement of provident habits, is a society for limiting the +population within the means of subsistence. Many such associations +are so well founded as to give assurance that they will be +persevered in; if persevered in, it cannot be very long before some +one class or band of labourers feels the benefits of prudence, and +exhibits the truth that moderate self-denial in one direction brings +means of rational indulgence in others: and when this happens, the +work of amelioration will be fairly begun. The working men’s day +will be at hand, and no one will hail it more joyfully than the +capitalists;—for willingly would they exchange such power as is +given them by the helplessness of their labourers, for security +against the waste of capital which is caused by the opposition of +their work-people and the pauperism of their dependents. + + -------------- + +Combinations of labourers against capitalists (whatever other +effects they may have) cannot secure a permanent rise of wages +unless the supply of labour falls short of the demand;—in which +case, strikes are usually unnecessary. + +Nothing can permanently affect the rate of wages which does not +affect the proportion of population to capital. + +Legislative interference does not affect this proportion, and is +therefore useless. + +Strikes affect it only by wasting capital, and are therefore worse +than useless. + +Combinations may avail or not, according to the reasonableness of +their objects. + +Whether reasonable or not, combinations are not subjects for +legislative interference; the law having no cognizance of their +causes. + +Disturbance of the peace being otherwise provided against, +combinations are wisely therefore now left unregarded by the law. + +The condition of labourers may be best improved,— + + 1. By inventions and discoveries which create capital; and by + husbanding instead of wasting capital;—for instance, by + making savings instead of supporting strikes. + + 2. BY ADJUSTING THE PROPORTION OF POPULATION TO CAPITAL. + + -------------- + +This is not the place in which to show how tremendous is the waste +of capital in a turn-out; nor have I been able to do it in that one +of my fables which treats of combinations of workmen. I felt myself +bound to present the fairest instance, in order to show the badness +of the principle of a strike in the best case; but I have the means +of showing, if I had but the space, that the members of a +combination are often—are commonly—the victims of a far more +despotic tyranny than they themselves ascribe to the masters, and a +more ruinous spoliation than the discontented suppose the rich +desirous to inflict upon the poor. I trust and believe that there +are many William Allens among the class of operatives; but I also +believe that few of these are leaders of strikes. Allen was an +unwilling leader of a strike; and there are many who see even more +clearly than he did the hopelessness and mischievousness of the +contest, who have either more selfishness to keep them out of it, or +more nerve to make a protest against a bad principle, and a stand +against a bad practice. I believe that the most intelligent and the +best men among the working-classes now decline joining a turn-out; +and it is very certain that not only the most ignorant, but the +worst, are among the first to engage. The reasons for this will be +sufficiently obvious to those who consider what facilities these +associations afford for such practices as ignorant and bad men +like,—for meddling and governing, for rioting, for idling, and +tippling, and journeying, and speechifying at other people’s +expense. No better occasion could be devised for exposing the +simple, and timid, and unwary to be robbed, and jobbed, and made +tools of by a few sharpers and idle busybodies. It is very certain +that three or four individuals have often succeeded, for their own +purposes, in setting three or four hundred, or thousand, better men +than themselves at enmity with their masters. It is difficult to +imagine a case of more spirit-rousing hardship than that of the +labourer who is compelled or inveigled into a contest which he +knows, or may know, to be bad in principle, and hopeless in its +issue,—who must, against his will or his reason, give up a +subsistence which is already too scanty, in order that he may find +it still further reduced when he returns to it. In consideration of +such cases, which everybody knows to be very common, I shall state a +few facts, which may assist and strengthen the determination of some +who may be striving against the now prevalent disposition to +strike for wages. The circumstances of the time will excuse a +disproportioned enlargement on a very obvious point. + +In order to bring the principle of strikes to the test, we have only +to ask whether they increase capital or check population?—one or +other of which they must do if they are to benefit the struggling +party. It is known to everybody that they do neither; but it is not +so well known that they do the direct contrary,—that they not only +waste capital, but increase the supply of labour, the very thing of +which there is already too much. They do this by driving the +capitalists to find those silent labourers who never ask subsistence +or refuse their masters’ bidding—the machines, which are the +workmen’s abhorrence. It is unreasonable as it is vain to abhor +machinery; and that its use is facilitated by strikes will be +regarded hereafter as one of the few compensating circumstances +which arise out of the miseries of such a struggle for power or for +bread. But, however great may be the ultimate good of this issue, +the issue is certainly the very reverse of that contemplated and +desired by those who turn out. Yet the time is come for them to meet +it; and they will do well to take heed to the state of the +labour-market at this period. + +After long depression and many fluctuations, it appears that there +is a revival of a steady demand for labour. The condition of our +capitalists is, however, different from what it was in most former +periods of prosperity. They are now busy; but they work for very low +profits in almost every branch of manufacture or trade. Their men +must also work hard for little pay, till some of the many +circumstances which tend to raise profits shall have occurred. +Never, however, were our working-class less disposed to take the low +wages which alone the masters are able to give. Combinations to +secure a rise are everywhere spreading, and grand preparations are +thus making for securing a fall. The low profits of the masters will +not stand encroachment. There is a brisk foreign competition, which +forbids trifling with any present demand. Under these circumstances, +if our working men choose to stand idle, what remains to be done but +to use machinery to the utmost extent that ingenuity can devise on +the spur of a great occasion? The quantity of human labour already +thus superseded is very considerable; and there will be more, in +proportion to the failure of harmony between capitalists and +labourers, till not a visible chance is left for the employment of +half our working men in the way they themselves propose. Happy will +it be for them if the usual consequences of the improvement of +machinery follow in the extension of our manufactures, so that there +may still be room for such as can learn a new business! and happy +will it be for them if they have become convinced, in their time of +hardship, that to moderate the supply of labour is the only way of +securing its desired recompense! + +The following case illustrates the method by which human labour is +driven out of demand: it is only one of many which have arisen out +of the tyranny of the leaders of strikes, who, not satisfied with +turning out themselves, compel their weaker, but reluctant, brethren +to be idle also. In the case in question, the turning out of the +head spinners in a cotton factory, compelling the idleness of six or +seven work-people subordinate to each spinner, has led the head +spinner’s master to find that he can do without him, and the six or +seven subordinates to rejoice in their freedom from dependence on +his movements. + +Six or seven different machines are employed in the production of +cotton-yarn from raw cotton. All but the last are called +“preparation machinery,” and one person waits upon each. The +office of this preparation machinery is to form the raw cotton +into a thick and tender thread, called a “roving.” The office of +the last machine is to twist and draw out the roving into a finer +and stronger thread: this operation is called “spinning,” and the +spun thread is “yarn.” This machine is called the “hand-mule.” +Hand-mules are worked in pairs, each pair requiring the head +spinner above-mentioned to direct its operation, and two or more +children to place the rovings in the machine, and piece the +threads that break. + +The head spinner, though paid in proportion to the superiority of +his work, has always been the one to turn out; and his subordinates +must go with him of necessity, however averse they might be to do +so. It was not to be borne that the discontents of the comparatively +few should derange the whole manufacture, and deprive the many of +their bread; and nothing could be more natural than for some +expedient to be sought by which the masters and the subordinates +might be made independent of the head spinners. Twenty years ago, +attempts were made to invent some apparatus which might be attached +to the mule, and discharge the spinner’s task. The apparatus first +used was either too complex or too uncertain in its operation to +answer the purpose; and, as often as it failed, the spinners clapped +their hands, believed the manufacture more in their power than ever, +and advanced in their demands accordingly. They went somewhat too +far in 1824, when they refused very high wages, and drove the +Manchester capitalists to vigorous measures of self-defence. The +requisite talent was sought and found for the object required; and, +early in 1825, a patent for the “self-acting mule” was taken out, +nothing being wanting to its efficacy but the simplification which +time and practice were sure to bring, and which would lessen its +cost so as to qualify it for common adoption. No sooner had it been +set to work, and begun to gain reputation, than a great part of the +establishment where it was in use was destroyed by fire, and the +machine was not heard of for some months. As soon as it began to be +again attended to, so great a stagnation of trade took place, that +the spirit of the spinner was subdued: the master was unwilling to +mortify him in his distress, and all mention of the self-acting mule +was dropped. This was very hard upon the patentees, who had been +originally forced into the business, and had spent, not only much +time and pains, but a great deal of money on the invention. They +rightly supposed, however, that the head spinners would give them +their turn on the first opportunity. They went on improving and +improving their invention, while awaiting another strike on the +revival of trade. This happened at the close of 1829; and then +several leading houses provided themselves with each a pair of +self-acting mules, by way of trial: but the adoption of the machine +went on languidly till the great strike of 1831 achieved its +triumph. It is now used in upwards of fifty mills, and seems likely +soon to be adopted in all others. The head spinners have not a +chance against it; for it not only saves their wages, and leaves +their subordinates at peace, but does their work better than they +could do it themselves;—an unexpected result with which the +perseverance of the inventors has been rewarded. The quantity of +yarn is greater than could before be produced in the same time and +with the same number of spindles: the yarn is of greater strength +and more uniform quality: there is a material saving of waste in the +subsequent processes, from the regularity with which the yarn is +wound on the spindle; and, from the same cause, a greater quantity +of a better fabric than before issues from the loom of the weaver. + +This story preaches its own moral. Every one ought to be glad to +hear of improvements in the comforts of mankind; but all would +rather pay any other purchase-money for them than the subsistence of +a useful and often suffering class of society. It is in the power of +our working class to provide that all such improvements shall +henceforth arise otherwise than through their opposition, and for +their destruction. With them rests the choice of controlling the +labour-market on the one hand, and pauperism on the other. + + -------------- + +If no moral reaches us from the long tragedy of pauperism which has +been enacted before the eyes of many generations, we are past +teaching. For the last three generations, especially, the state of +the indigent has been an object of primary attention to all classes +in our society. Statesmen have legislated, magistrates have +administered, the clergy have preached, tradesmen and manufacturers +have contributed, the farmers have been burdened: almost the sole +employment of women, next to the care of their own families, has +been the charge of the poor; almsgiving has been the first virtue to +which infant enthusiasm has been roused, and charity, in this sense, +has been made the test of moral sincerity and religious proficiency. +And what has all this done for society? The number of the indigent +has increased from day to day, and at a perpetually increasing rate, +till it has absorbed, in a legal charity alone, nine millions per +annum of the subsistence-fund, which is the clear right of the +independent labourer. It is no small consideration that the +habitually indigent become, as a matter of course, as their doom, +the most profligate portion of society. But this fearful +consideration is not all. We not only defraud the industrious +classes of their due, now tempting and now forcing them down into a +state of indigence, and by the same act condemning them to +hopelessness and vice, but we, at the same time, put in motion an +apparatus of moral evil among every class which has to communicate +with the indigent, which would bear down the preaching of the twelve +apostles themselves. If account could be taken of the unjust +partialities of magistrates, of the abuse of power by open vestries, +and the jobbing by select vestries; of the heart-wringing oppression +sustained by the tradesman and farmer; of the open licentiousness +and concealed fraud, the ungodly conspiracies and diabolical hatreds +nourished by our system of legal charity, and the daily repeated, +cruel injustice inflicted by our methods of public and private +charity, we might well doubt whether some fiend had not been making +sport of us under the holy semblance of charity. It may be doubted +whether the most profligate tyranny ever broke or depraved so many +hearts as the charities of our Christian nation. If our practices +are to be judged by their fruits, there are none, next to slavery, +for which we need so much pardon as for our methods of charity. + +There is no use in pleading our good intentions. The fathers of the +Inquisition are ever ready with their plea of good intentions. The +parent who breaks the spirit, and thus annihilates the moral liberty +of his child, does it with the best intentions. The manœuvrer tells +twenty lies a-day with the best intentions. There is, perhaps, no +crime in whose defence good intentions may not with sincerity have +been pleaded. The question is why, with evidence that we were wrong, +daily and hourly before our eyes, we did not mend our methods. +Thence arises the moral of this dreary lesson, that virtue, whether +beneficence or any other, does not consist in formal and arbitrary +practices, but in conformity to vital principles. Without regard to +this essential truth, virtue may turn to vice before we are aware; +and as a proof of it, we have been doing the pleasure of fiends +under a persuasion that we were discharging the duty of Christians. +We have exercised self-denial in our charity: but so did Simeon +Stylobates in his piety, when he lived on the top of a pillar. We +have toiled and suffered in our charity: but so did the pilgrims who +walked with peas in their shoes to the sepulchre. Their piety and +their sufferings were a mockery of Him they worshipped; and our +charity has proved a scandal to the religion we profess. What +follows? Not that piety and charity are a mockery and a delusion; +but that Simeon did not understand the one, and we have most +assuredly mistaken the other. + +One essential distinction between a comparatively rich and poor +society is in the moral right which individuals have to dispose of +their money in certain modes. Where capital abounds in proportion to +the consumers, individuals are fully justified in giving away in +whatsoever form and to whomsoever they please; as they give away +that which leaves nobody destitute. But in a society where +population abounds in proportion to capital, to give food and +clothing to the idle while the industrious are debarred from earning +it, is to take subsistence from him whose due it is, to give it to +one who has no claim. Thus to violate justice can be no true +charity. Where consumers abound in proportion to capital, it is +obvious that the way to bestow most happiness is, not to take away +one man’s share to give it to another, but to do what is possible +towards creating another share in such a way as not to cause more +want. In other words, almsgiving is the mode of charity appropriate +to one state of society, and the establishment of provident +associations, and the encouragement of emigration, and especially of +education, are the modes of charity appropriate to another state of +society. We have need enough of charity in our present state;—with +hundreds of thousands of paupers in our parishes, and of +half-starved artizans in our towns, and broken-spirited labourers in +our villages. We have need enough of charity,—of the time of such as +have leisure, and of the attention of the thoughtful, and of the +exertions of the active, and of the wealth of the opulent. All these +will be too little for the removal of the evil which our own +mistakes have caused. We have need enough of charity; and if we +would learn how to apply it, there are those among the sufferers who +can instruct us. There is in existence a letter from a poor +operative living in a district where charities of food and clothing +abound, entreating the influential parties whom he addresses to put +an end to the almsgiving which leaves no chance of a just provision +to the high-souled working man. There is in existence a petition +from a body of agricultural labourers to the House of Lords, last +year, praying for the abolition of legal charity which condemns the +labourer to starvation or degradation. These documents are signs of +the times which are not to be mistaken, and which may well strike us +silent with shame at our incessant complaints of the poor for having +lost their spirit of independence, and become a degraded race. Where +is our Christian charity, when we first wrest from them their +independence, and then taunt them with the loss? when we invite them +to encroach, and then spurn them for encroaching? + +Even from this enormous evil, however, good is at this moment +arising. The rapid, the appalling increase of the mischief has +directed the general attention towards it; and the two grand +principles with which we set out afford the suggestion of remedies +which are actually in preparation. It is now many years since +certain commissioners, appointed by the French government to +investigate our pauper system, pronounced it the great political +gangrene of England, which it was equally dangerous to remove and to +let alone. The mischief has been on the increase ever since, and yet +there is hope of cure. If it were not that we had sound principles +to go upon,—if we had all this vice and misery on our hands to be +got rid of we knew not how, our condition would indeed be +deplorable. But, once having got hold of the truth that ours is a +society where labour abounds in proportion to capital, we know at +least how to look about for a remedy, and with what aim to direct +our proceedings. We must lessen the inducements to indigence, +(strange that such should exist!) by making the condition of the +pauper inferior to that of the independent labourer, and ensure its +remaining universally so by appointing a rigid, impartial, and +uniform administration of the funds of our legal charity. Every +diminution of the inducements to indigence is necessarily an +increase of the inducements to independence; both by giving the +right bias to the inclinations of the labourer, and by saving a +portion of the subsistence-fund. + +In proportion to the savings effected in the subsistence-fund by a +rigid administration of the legal charity, the surplus labour of our +parishes will be absorbed; and if, by a wise scheme of emigration, +the disproportion between our capital and labour can be still +further reduced, a way will be open for the total abolition of a +legal charity,—the most demoralizing agency, perhaps, which can be +introduced into any state,—a curse beneath which no society can +prosper. We shall then be at liberty to apply our charity wholly to +that object which should now be uppermost with all the truly +benevolent,—to prevent indigence instead of providing for it, in the +full confidence that “accidental cases will be relieved by +accidental succour.” There are many who believe that an immediate +abolition of our legal charity would cause less misery than its long +continuance: but there is happily no occasion to contemplate the +alternative. There is a strong hope afforded by various instances of +partial reformation that a way remains for us out of our +difficulties,—toilsome and painful, no doubt, but practicable and +safe;—a way of so rectifying the administration of our poor-laws as +to give us the power of at length abolishing them. Honoured be the +rulers who shall set us forward on this path; and blessed be every +one who bestirs himself to remove obstructions by the substitution +of a true for a spurious charity![D] + +----- + +Footnote D: + + If a rebuke were needed for despondency respecting the prospects + of society, it might be found in the experience of the change + which a few months have wrought in the popular convictions as to + the true direction of charity. Fifteen months ago, it required + some resolution to give so much pain to kind hearts as was + occasioned by such exposures as those contained in “Cousin + Marshall,” and yet more to protest against poor-laws for Ireland. + The publications of the Poor-Law Commissioners have since wrought + powerfully in the right direction. Conviction has flashed from + mind to mind; and now we hear from all quarters of Provident and + Friendly Societies, of Emigration, of parish struggles for the + rectification of abuses, of the regulation of workhouses, the + shutting up of soup and blanket charities, and the revision of + charitable constitutions, with a view to promote the employment of + labour rather than the giving of alms. The extent of the change of + opinion in the same time with regard to poor-laws for Ireland is + scarcely less remarkable. On no subject has mistake been more + prevalent, and never has it more rapidly given way before the + statement of principles and facts. The noblest charity, after all, + would be a provision for the regular statement, in a popular form, + of principles and facts of like importance. When shall we have a + Minister of Public Instruction who will be the angel of this new + dispensation? It is for the people to say when. + +----- + +Here is the statement of the evil and of one of the appropriate +remedies. + + -------------- + +In a society composed of a natural gradation of ranks, some must be +poor; _i.e._ have nothing more than the means of present +subsistence. + +Any suspension of these means of subsistence, whether through +disaster, sickness, or decrepitude, converts the poor into the +indigent. + +Since indigence occasions misery, and disposes to vice, the welfare +of society requires the greatest possible reduction of the number of +the indigent. + +Charity, public and private, or an arbitrary distribution of the +subsistence-fund, has hitherto failed to effect this object; the +proportion of the indigent to the rest of the population having +increased from age to age. + +This is not surprising, since an arbitrary distribution of the +subsistence-fund, besides rendering consumption unproductive, and +encouraging a multiplication of consumers, does not meet the +difficulty arising from the disproportion of numbers to the means of +subsistence. + +The small unproductive consumption occasioned by the relief of +sudden accidents and rare infirmities is necessary, and may be +justifiably provided for by charity, since such charity does not +tend to the increase of numbers; but, with this exception, all +arbitrary distribution of the necessaries of life is injurious to +society, whether in the form of private almsgiving, public +charitable institutions, or a legal pauper-system. + +The tendency of all such modes of distribution having been found to +be to encourage improvidence with all its attendant evils,—to injure +the good while relieving the bad,—to extinguish the spirit of +independence on one side, and of charity on the other,—to encourage +peculation, tyranny, and fraud,—and to increase perpetually the evil +they are meant to remedy,—but one plea is now commonly urged in +favour of a legal provision for the indigent. + +This plea is, that every individual born into a state has a right to +subsistence from the state. + +This plea, in its general application, is grounded on a false +analogy between a state and its members, and a parent and his +family. + +A parent has a considerable influence over the subsistence-fund of +his family, and an absolute control over the numbers to be supported +by that fund; whereas the rulers of a state, from whom a legal +provision emanates, have little influence over its subsistence-fund, +and no control whatever over the number of its members. + +If the plea of right to subsistence be grounded on the faults of +national institutions, the right ought rather to be superseded by +the rectification of those institutions, than admitted at the cost +of perpetuating an institution more hurtful than all the others +combined. + + -------------- + +What then must be done to lessen the number of the indigent now so +frightfully increasing? + +The subsistence-fund must be employed productively, and capital and +labour be allowed to take their natural course; _i. e._ the pauper +system must, by some means or other, be extinguished. + +The number of consumers must be proportioned to the +subsistence-fund. To this end, encouragements to the increase of +population should be withdrawn, and every sanction given to the +preventive check; _i. e._ charity must be directed to the +enlightenment of the mind instead of to the relief of bodily wants. + +If not adopted speedily, all measures will be too late to prevent +the universal prevalence of poverty in this kingdom, the legal +provision for the indigent now operating the extinction of our +national resources at a perpetually increasing rate. + + -------------- + +The objects of voluntary emigration, directed by the state, are +three-fold:— + + 1. To improve the condition of those who emigrate, by placing + them where they may obtain subsistence at less cost than at + home. + + 2. To improve the condition of those who remain, by increasing + the ratio of capital to population. + + 3. To improve the condition of the colonized region. + +To fulfil the first of these objects, the colony must be so located +as to insure health and abundance to its members; and it must be so +organized as to secure the due co-operation of labour and capital. + +To fulfil the second object, the removal of each individual must be +less costly than his maintenance at home would be; and the selection +must be made with a view to lessening the amount of human +productiveness at home. + +To fulfil the third object, the colonists must be selected with a +view to their productiveness, both as regards capital and +population; which includes a moral fitness to compose an orderly +society. + +It follows from all these considerations that a new settlement +should be composed of young, healthy, and moral persons; that all +should not be labourers, nor all capitalists; and that there should +be a sufficient concentration of their numbers on the new lands to +ensure a facility of exchanges. + + -------------- + +All other proposed remedies must be subjected to, as this must be +regulated by, the test, whether they assist in proportioning labour +and capital. The Home Colonization system here fails, on the double +ground that it ensures a smaller return to capital and labour than +could be had abroad, and serves as a direct premium on population. + +Home colonies may afford a temporary relief to a redundant +population, and also increase the productiveness of the lands which +they appropriate; but this is done by alienating capital from its +natural channels; and with the certainty of ultimately injuring +society by increasing the redundancy of population over capital. + +Home colonization then, though less injurious than the unproductive +distribution of the charity-fund, is inferior to foreign +colonization, inasmuch as the one yields temporary benefit to a few +at the expense of ultimate injury to many; and the other produces +permanent benefit to all. + + -------------- + +All provisions for rewarding forethought and economy, and +especially all for the diffusion of sound moral and political +knowledge, approve themselves by this test. All contrivance and +care in the production and economy of capital approve themselves +also; but Emigration is conspicuous in its merits, since it not +only immediately reaches the seat of the evil in the mother +country, but affords the greatest of blessings to the colonized +regions. If regulated by a due regard to the infallible test, it +is scarcely possible to conceive of an arrangement more apt to all +the purposes of society. Where it has failed, the reason of +failure has commonly been that one link in the chain of operating +causes has been wanting. Land and labourers cannot mutually +prosper without the capital which has too often been deficient. We +have not yet made the experiment of sending out small societies +completely organized, and amply provided to settle down at once in +a state of sufficient civilization to spare the mother-country all +further anxiety about the expedition. It can be no objection to +this that it abstracts capital and the most useful species of +labour from the mother-country: since the capital so sent out will +yield a more rapid and ample increase to us in a new market for +commerce than it could have done at home; and the labour is that +which we least want at home,—however good its quality may be,—and +that which we most want in our possessions on the other side the +world. Such an organized society, however, would be able to bear a +much larger proportion of children than a similar society could +take charge of at home,—the labour of children being of as much +more value than their maintenance abroad, as it is less at home. +If for every old person naturally belonging to such a company, +left behind, two children were taken out, this country would be +immediately compensated for the abstraction of prime labour, and a +provision would be made for the future contraction of the +population. All details, however, from the greatest to the least, +will be arranged with infinitely less trouble than our parochial +mismanagements have cost us when we have once, as a nation, +surveyed the dreary haunts of our pauperized classes, and then +taken a flight in spirit to the fair regions abroad which invite +their labour with a sure promise of rich recompense. The time must +come when it will be a matter of wonder how we could so long be +oppressed with a redundancy of labour at home, while our foreign +lands were dreary only for want of labour, while an open sea lay +between, while we had shipping to spare to traverse it, and while +we were spending nine millions a year in the fruitless support of +our paupers, and as a premium on the production of yet more and +more labour. The best plea for us in that day will be that we did +not understand our own case. By the time we have spent nine +millions, or the half of nine millions, in relieving our labour +market, we may have discovered how inferior is that superstitious, +spurious charity which doles out bread at its own door to an +unlawful petitioner because to give bread was once charity, and +that enlightened, genuine benevolence which causes plenty to +spring in the far corners of the world, nourishing at home the +ancient household virtues which have been well nigh starved among +us, but which are not dead. + + -------------- + +What decision does our test give out in regard to Ireland? That, as +a redundancy of population is her universally acknowledged curse, it +is unreasonable to expect relief from the introduction of a legal +charity,—the most efficacious of all premiums on population. The +conclusion is so obvious, that it can be got rid of only by proving +either that a redundant population is not the great grievance of +Ireland, or that there may be a legal charity which does not act as +a premium on population. Where are the materials for either the one +proof or the other? + +Whatever affects the security of property, or intercepts the due +reward of labour, impairs the subsistence-fund by discouraging +industry and forethought. + +Partnership tenantcies affect the security of property by rendering +one tenant answerable for the obligations of all his partners, while +he has no control over the management of their portions. + +A gradation of landlords on one estate has the same effect, by +rendering one tenant liable to the claims of more than one landlord. + +The levying of fines on a whole district for an illegal practice +going on in one part of it has the same effect, by rendering the +honest man liable for the malpractices of the knave. + +The imposition of a church establishment on those who already +support another church, intercepts the due reward of labour, by +taking from the labourer a portion of his earnings for an object +from which he derives no benefit. + +The practice of letting land to the highest bidder, without regard +to former service, or to the merits of the applicants, intercepts +the due reward of the labourer, by decreeing his gains to expire +with his lease. + +All these practices having prevailed in IRELAND, her +subsistence-fund is proportionably impaired, though the reduction is +somewhat more than compensated by the natural growth of capital. + +While capital has been growing much more slowly than it ought, +population has been increasing much more rapidly than the +circumstances of the country have warranted; the consequences of +which are, extensive and appalling indigence, and a wide spread of +the moral evils which attend it. + +An immediate palliation of this indigence would be the result of +introducing a legal pauper-system into Ireland; but it would be at +the expense of an incalculable permanent increase of the evil. + +To levy a poor-rate on the country at large would be impolitic, +since it would only increase the primary grievance of an +insufficiency of capital, by causing a further unproductive +consumption of it. + +To throw the burthen of a pauper-system on absentees would be +especially unjust, since they bear precisely the same relation to +the wealth of their country as its resident capitalists. + +In the case of Ireland, as in all analogous cases, permanent relief +can be effected only by adjusting the proportions of capital and +population; and this must be attempted by means suited to her +peculiar circumstances. + +The growth of capital should be aided by improvements in +agricultural and domestic economy, and by the removal of political +grievances; from which would follow a union in place of an +opposition of interests. + +Population should be reduced within due limits, + +In the present emergency, by well-conducted schemes of emigration; +and + +Permanently, by educating the people till they shall have become +qualified for the guardianship of their own interests. + +A sameness in the natural laws of distribution exactly reverses the +order of possession in new countries, i. e., in those where capital +abounds in proportion to population. There the landowner (if any one +finds it worth his while to be a landowner without being either a +capitalist or a labourer at the same time) gains no real rent till +the best land is all under cultivation, and then very little till a +third degree is resorted to. The capitalist, meanwhile, makes less +than the labourer; or would gain less if he were not, like the +landowner, a labourer also. Where labour is so dear, all are +labourers; and the labourer, by a very natural process, soon becomes +a capitalist and a landowner; and then he may chance to learn what a +strange thing it seems to a man from the mother-country to let land +of a fine quality for no better rent than a small share of the +produce; and how vexatious it is, after having reaped splendid +returns to capital, to have to pay away, in the purchase of labour, +all but little more than the ordinary profits of stock. + +The want of a due consideration of the difference in relative +condition of labourers at home and labourers in new countries has +led to some serious errors[E] in the formation and execution of some +of our plans of colonization. Such a scheme as that of penal +colonization could never have been adopted if the case of the +working class in both countries had been understood. Besides the +many other objections which might be and have been forcibly urged, +there must remain the insurmountable one that labour is better +rewarded in a new colony than at home. It does not appear that any +arbitrary severity, short of the infliction of such life-long misery +as no crime can deserve, can counteract the natural law by which the +labourer is more prosperous in our penal colonies than in England. +They are places of privilege, and the carrying him there is putting +him in a condition of privilege, sooner or later, however severely +we may punish him for any terminable period. This is so notoriously +the case, that it has become matter of very serious consideration +how the lot of the convict can be rendered harder, and be made known +at home to be so; and arrangements have been made, within a short +period, by which the disproportion in the lot of the innocent and +the guilty is considerably lessened. Still, however far the convict +may be placed below the virtuous emigrant in the scale of comfort, +no power can, in the present state of our labour-market, prevent his +being much better off than the independent labourer at home. The +power of rulers may ordain chains, whipping, and other penalties to +the convict; but it cannot prevent his having, during a pressing +demand for his labour, that abundance of the necessaries of life +which the virtuous labourer cannot obtain at home. Bob Castle[F] +would not now, perhaps, be able to purchase an estate on which his +honest brother Frank was a labourer; but Bob, however he might have +been punished for seven or fourteen years, could not but have a +fairer prospect before him at the end of that time than honest Frank +would have had in England. This necessity forms, of itself, a +conclusive argument against penal colonization as a secondary +punishment. That mode of punishment can never command respect or +success which wanders so far from the principle of retribution as to +inflict studied miseries as a set-off against advantages which +cannot be excluded. + +----- + +Footnote E: + + It is incumbent on me to advert to the ill-success of one method + of supplying labour to the Australian colonies, which I have + represented in much too favourable a light in my tale of “Homes + Abroad.” I find that, though I have pointed out (pp. 54, 55) the + leading objections to the plan of indenturing servants to colonial + settlers, I have represented the issue of such an experiment as + more prosperous than it has been proved in fact. The true state of + the case will be learned from the following extract from “Papers + relating to the Crown Lands and Emigration to New South Wales,” + printed by order of the House of Commons, October, 1831. + + "The Emigrant, in the cases to which we allude, has bound himself, + previously to his departure from this country, to serve his + employer for a time at wages which, though higher than those which + he could have obtained at home, were much below the ordinary rate + in the colony. No attempt has been made to render the advantage + obtained by the employer in this manner an equivalent for the + expense he has incurred in carrying out the Emigrants; and it can + scarcely be doubted that in many instances the bargain, if + strictly adhered to, would have been more than reasonably + profitable to the employer. Indeed it has been the principal fault + of these arrangements that the engagement of the Emigrant has not + been on either side regarded as a mere undertaking to repay the + expense incurred in his conveyance; and hence he has often been + led to look upon the transaction as a disadvantageous hiring of + himself, into which he had been misled by his ignorance of the + circumstances of the place to which he was going. This has been + the frequent cause of discontent on the part of indentured + servants; and their masters, unable to derive any advantage from + unwilling labourers, have found it more for their interest to + discharge these servants than to insist on the right conveyed by + their bond. It is obvious that no increased severity in the legal + enactments for the protection of contracts could prevent those + which we have described from being thus dissolved; for they have + been so, not from any insufficiency in the obligations by which + the Emigrants have been bound, but from the impossibility of + rendering such obligations worth preserving, where one of the + parties strongly desires them to be cancelled."—pp. 21, 22. + + These objections apply only to cases of _binding_ for more than + the repayment of the expenses of removal to the colony. Next to + the education of the people at home, there is no way in which + charity can now operate so beneficially as in making loans, under + security of repayment, to enable working men, and yet more working + _women_, to transport themselves to our Australian colonies; and + by diffusing, as widely as possible, _correct_ information + respecting the condition and prospects of emigrants to our North + American colonies. This correct information, which is to the last + degree interesting, may be obtained from the Papers above referred + to, and the “Reports of the Emigration Commissioners, for 1832; + printed by order of the House of Commons.” Every active + philanthropist ought to possess himself of the contents of these + papers. The Report, dated 1832, contains the following. + + “Before we close this account of our proceedings regarding New + South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land, we must observe that the value + of that which has been accomplished cannot be justly estimated by + a mere reference to the number already gone out. The general scope + and tendency of our measures must be taken into account, as well + as the importance, in an endeavour to direct emigration to a + quarter comparatively new, of having succeeded in making a + _commencement_. For, after the impulse has once been given towards + countries really adapted to emigration, the letters of the + settlers themselves, more perhaps than the most elaborate + statements from authority, serve to maintain and propagate the + disposition to resort to the same quarter. Although, therefore, + the measures that have been adopted this year may be limited in + their immediate influence, and it may be also impossible to + predict with certainty their ulterior results, yet, at least, they + are of such a nature that, if successful, they may serve as the + foundation of a system sufficient for many years to prevent the + progress of the Australian colonies from being retarded by the + want of an industrious population adequate to the development of + their resources.” (p. 6.) And the mother-country, we may add, from + being impeded, by an over-crowded population at home, in her + efforts to exalt the social and moral condition of her mighty + family. + +Footnote F: + + See Homes Abroad. + +----- + +The objects of penal colonization are— + + 1. The security of society by the removal of the offender. + + 2. The security of society by the effect of his example. + + 3. The reformation of the offender. + +There has hitherto been an entire failure of all these objects: and +no wonder; since,— + + 1. The offender is only transferred from one portion of society + to another; and besides, frequently returns to his old haunts. + + 2. His punishment, as far as it is punishment, takes place at + too great a distance to be conspicuous as a warning; and in as + far as his lot does not involve punishment, the effect of his + example is precisely the reverse of what is desired. + + 3. Our convict arrangements tend to the further corruption of + the offender, by letting him experience a great improvement in + his condition as a direct consequence of his crimes. + +The junction of penal with voluntary emigration tends equally to +disappoint the purposes of the one, and to extinguish the benefits +of the other; since convict labourers find themselves in a state of +privilege, in a region where their labour procures them large +rewards; and new settlers find their community deeply injured by the +vice and disease consequent on the introduction of a convict +population. + +Before closing this part, it may be well to observe that much vain +reluctance to acknowledge the two grand principles which primarily +regulate the distribution of wealth, arises from too small an +allowance having been asked for subordinate influences, which may +justify a much greater degree of hopefulness respecting the +condition of an advanced country than some economists have ventured +to indulge. It is no wonder that the kind-hearted turn away, and +refuse to listen to a doctrine which is thought to forbid much hope +that the whole of any society can be comfortably provided with the +necessaries of life. It is no wonder that the timid cease from +trying to lop off evils, if they must believe that every head of the +social hydra will grow again,—that for every redundancy drawn off +there will be a speedy over-filling. All experience of humanity +contradicts such forebodings: and, though it would assuredly be our +duty to make our own generation happier than the last, even under +the certainty that the next must fall back again, it is much more +animating to believe, as we are justified in doing, that every +advance is a pledge of a further advance; that every taste of +comfort, generated to the poor man by his own exertions, stimulates +the appetite for more. It has ever been found that, when men have +learned to prefer wheaten bread to potatoes, it is more likely that +their children should be taught to seek butchers’ meat than allowed +to fall back to potatoes. The father who has worked his way up into +a glazed and tiled cottage, brings up his children to fear the mud +hovel in which they were born. If we do but apply ourselves to +nourish the taste for comfort in the poor,—to take for granted the +most, instead of the least, that they ought to require, there is +little fear but that, whenever circumstances allow, they will fall +into our way of thinking, and prefer a home of comfort, earned by +forethought and self-denial, to herding together in a state of +reckless pauperism. With every increase of resources, let a vigorous +exertion be made to rouse the complacency and exalt the tastes of +the labouring class, and it will assuredly be found, in the interval +before a new access of labour can be brought into the market, that +the condition of the class has improved as a matter of theory, as +well as practice, and that it must go hard with them but they will +keep it up. + +All experience warrants this statement. There can be no question +that the preventive check has largely superseded the positive in all +advancing societies. There can be no doubt of the increased +providence of the middling classes, and the enlargement of the +domestic requirements of the poor, even though wars, famine, and +pestilence have nearly ceased to make the awful vacancies in which +the wants and desires of the survivors could expand. Though in some +unhappy districts where the visitations of want have extinguished +the moral check, multitudes still herd together, more like brutes +than human beings, it is certain that there is a larger demand among +the working classes of England for better food, clothing, +habitations, and furniture, than their fathers thought of requiring. +If this has taken place notwithstanding all the bad policy, public +and private, with which we have weakened the spirit and the power of +independence, there is ample reason for confidence in an accelerated +progress in proportion as public and private influence shall work in +an opposite direction. Since every one can, many will assist in this +noble work; assured that not a single effort can be lost, and that +its successful result will extend far beyond the present generation. +Few are now found to advocate that species of prospective +benevolence which acts by long-reaching pecuniary bequests; but it +does not follow that benevolence may not be prospective. Let it +extend its view to the remotest ages within ken of the human +imagination. Let it do this by promoting the welfare of the parents +of future generations;—a wide field enough, if we lived but for +charity. + + + + + ----------------------- + + PART III. + + +The total wealth of society being distributed among three classes, +according to the principles above announced, the next process is the +exchange of commodities by individuals for purposes of individual +enjoyment. + +The complication of this process arises chiefly from the diversity +of production which takes place on the earth, occasioning not only a +wide difference in the amount of labour required to produce the same +results in different regions, but a perpetual variegation and +augmentation of commodities, which affect the demand, and render +uncertain the transactions of trade. + +This complication, however, involves no disastrous perplexity, +unless meddled with by powers which bear no relation to it. All +commodities will declare their own value, and obtain equivalents, to +the ultimate satisfaction of the exchanging parties, if they are +left to themselves; but when any power, which cannot regulate human +wants and wishes, interferes to prescribe what provision shall be +made for those wants and wishes, there is not only a certainty that +the relative values of commodities will be temporarily deranged, to +the disadvantage of one of the exchanging parties, but an +uncertainty when the natural relation of values will be restored, +and whether disorder will not first spread into every other +department of exchange. Since human labour is the universal +commodity which is brought to market, to be given and taken under +all forms, (since capital is only hoarded labour,) there is no +safety in ticketing any one commodity as containing more labour than +it naturally includes, and thus destroying its balance with the +rest, to the injury of its seller’s credit, and its buyer’s +interest. This is what is done by every government which presumes to +interfere with the barter of individuals, or authorizes such +interference. The duty of government is precisely the reverse;—to +secure the freedom of exchange as carefully as the freedom of +labour, in the full assurance that it cannot determine relative +values till it can determine the amount of labour and the extent of +human wants in every region of the earth. This it may do when it has +mastered the chemical and mechanical constitution of the globe, when +it may not only gauge the rain in every region, but appoint the +proportion of its fall. + +There are two kinds of Value: value in use, and value in exchange. + +Articles of the greatest value in use may have none in exchange: as +they may be enjoyed without labour; and it is labour which confers +exchangeable value. + +This is not the less true for capital as well as labour being +employed in production; for capital is hoarded labour. + +When equal quantities of any two articles require an equal amount of +labour to produce them, they exchange exactly against one another. +If one requires more labour than the other, a smaller quantity of +the one exchanges against a larger quantity of the other. + +If it were otherwise, no one would bestow a larger quantity of +labour for a less return; and the article requiring the most labour +would cease to be produced. + +Exchangeable value, therefore, naturally depends on cost of +production. + +Naturally, but not universally; for there are influences which cause +temporary variations in exchangeable value. + +These are, whatever circumstances affect demand and supply. But +these can act only temporarily; because the demand of any procurable +article creates supply; and the factitious value conferred by +scarcity soon has an end. + +When this end has arrived, cost of production again determines +exchangeable value. + +Its doing so may, therefore, stand as a general rule. + +Though labour, immediate and hoarded, is the _regulator_, it is not +the _measure_ of exchangeable value; for the sufficient reason, that +labour itself is perpetually varying in quality and quantity, from +there being no fixed proportion between immediate and hoarded +labour. + +Since labour, the primary regulator, cannot serve as a measure of +exchangeable value, none of the products of labour can serve as such +a measure. + +There is, therefore, no measure of exchangeable value. + +Such a measure is not needed; as a due regulation of the supply of +labour, and the allowance of free scope to the principle of +competition ensure sufficient stability of exchangeable value for +all practical purposes. + +In these requisites are included security of property, and freedom +of exchange, to which political tranquillity and legislative +impartiality are essential. + +Price is the exponent of exchangeable value. + +Natural or necessary price,—regulated by cost of production,— +includes the wages of the labourer, and the profits of the +capitalist. + +Market price varies from natural price with variations of demand and +supply, and in proportion to the oppressiveness of public burdens +and commercial restrictions. + +The more nearly and permanently market prices approach natural +prices, the more prosperous is the state of commerce; and the two +most essential requisites to this prosperity are social tranquillity +and legislative impartiality. + +The ancient error, that some mysterious quality inherent in gold and +silver money constituted it wealth, almost to the exclusion of every +other commodity, is now so universally dismissed by all who know +anything of our science, that there is no occasion to controvert it +further than by presenting the appropriate Summary of Principles; +and the kindred modern error, that an enlargement of its quantity +can do more than give a temporary, and probably hurtful, stimulus to +industry, requires now no more than a similar exposure. The sense of +the country has lately been taken on this question; and the result +proves that there is prevalent a sufficient knowledge of the +philosophy and fact of the case to encourage a hope that no such +hazardous sport with the circulating medium as the country has +previously suffered from will be again attempted. The fate of the +Berkeley[G] family, in consequence of actions on the currency, is +only one instance from one class. A long series of sad stories might +be told of sufferers of every rank, whose partial prosperity, +enjoyed at the expense of one another’s ruin, was soon swallowed up +in the destruction which universally attends a shock to public +credit. The injured might be found dispersed through every dwelling +in the land; and, however loudly the richer might complain of the +magnitude of their losses, the most cruelly injured were those who +had the least opportunity of accounting for their gains and their +losses, and therefore the least power of meeting the pressure of +circumstances by prudence and forethought. + +----- + +Footnote G: + + Berkeley the Banker. + +----- + +To stimulate the production of labour by the increase of the +circulating medium, the fruits of which must be wrested away by an +inevitable contraction, is a policy whose glory is not to be +coveted; and surely no statesman will be found to adventure it till +the last tradition of the consequent woes of our working-classes +shall have died away. By that time, it is probable that the danger +of such recurrence will be obviated by the adoption of some +principle of security, which will give society the advantage of a +free trade in money. It must be long before this can take place; for +it must be long before the values of commodities are allowed to +adjust themselves; and money must, from its importance, be very +cautiously and gradually committed to the equalizing influences of +the natural laws of demand. But, however long it may be, the woes of +past convulsions will not till then be forgotten. That the time of +arbitrary interference will, however, cease, can scarcely be +doubted, if the following be true principles. + +In exchanging commodities for one another directly, that is, in the +way of barter, much time is lost, and trouble incurred, before the +respective wants of the exchanging parties can be supplied. + +This trouble and waste may be avoided by the adoption of a medium of +exchange,—that is, a commodity generally agreed upon, which, in +order to effect an exchange between two other commodities, is first +received in exchange for the one, and then given in exchange for the +other. + +This commodity is Money. + +The great requisites in a medium of exchange are, that it should be— + + What all sellers are willing to receive;— + + Capable of division into convenient portions;— + + Portable, from including great value in small bulk;— + + Indestructible, and little liable to fluctuations of value. + +Gold and silver unite these requisites in an unequalled degree, and +have also the desirable quality of beauty; gold and silver have +therefore formed the principal medium of exchange hitherto adopted; +usually prepared, by an appointed authority, in the form most +suitable for the purposes of exchange, in order to avoid the +inconveniences of ascertaining the value of the medium on every +occasion of purchase. + +Where the supply of money is left unrestricted, its exchangeable +value will be ultimately determined, like that of all other +commodities, by the cost of production. + +Where the supply is restricted, its exchangeable value depends on +the proportion of the demand to the supply. + +In the former case, it retains its character of a commodity, serving +as a standard of value in preference to other commodities only in +virtue of its superior natural requisites to that object. + +In the latter case, it ceases to be a commodity, and becomes a mere +ticket of transference, or arbitrary sign of value; and then the +natural requisites above described become of comparatively little +importance. + +The quality by which money passes from hand to hand with little +injury enables it to compensate inequalities of supply by the +slackened or accelerated speed of its circulation. + +The rate of circulation serves as an index of the state of supply, +and therefore tends, where no restriction exists, to an adjustment +of the supply to the demand. + +Where restriction exists, the rate of circulation indicates the +degree of derangement introduced among the elements of exchangeable +value, but has no permanent influence in its rectification. + + -------------- + +In proportion as the processes of exchange become extensive and +complicated, all practicable economy of time, trouble, and expense, +in the use of a circulating medium, becomes desirable. + +Such economy is accomplished by making acknowledgment of debt +circulate in place of the actual payment,—that is, substituting +credit, as represented by bank paper, for gold money. + +The adoption of paper money saves time, by making the largest sums +as easily payable as the smallest. + +It saves trouble, by being more easily transferable than metal +money. + +It saves expense, by its production being less costly than that of +metal money, and by its setting free a quantity of gold to be used +in other articles of production. + +A further advantage of paper money is, that its destruction causes +no diminution of real wealth, like the destruction of gold and +silver coin; the one being only a representative of value, the other +also a commodity. + +The remaining requisites of a medium of exchange—viz., that it +should be what all sellers are willing to receive, and little liable +to fluctuations of value, are not inherent in paper as they are in +metallic money. + +But they may be obtained by rendering paper money convertible into +metallic money, by limiting in other ways the quantity issued, and +by guarding against forgery. + +Great evils, in the midst of many advantages, have arisen out of the +use of paper money, from the neglect of measures of security, or +from the adoption of such as have proved false. Issues of +inconvertible paper money have been allowed to a large extent, +unguarded by any restrictions as to the quantity issued. + +As the issuing of paper money is a profitable business, the issue +naturally became excessive when the check of convertibility was +removed, while banking credit was not backed by sufficient security. + +The immediate consequences of a superabundance of money are, a rise +of prices, an alteration in the conditions of contracts, and a +consequent injury to commercial credit. + +Its ulterior consequences are, a still stronger shock to commercial +credit, the extensive ruin of individuals, and an excessive +contraction of the currency, yet more injurious than its excessive +expansion. + +These evils arise from buyers and sellers bearing an unequal +relation to the quantity of money in the market. + +If all sold as much as they bought, and no more, and if the prices +of all commodities rose and fell in exact proportion, all exchanges +would be affected alike by the increase or diminution of the supply +of money. But this is an impossible case; and therefore any action +on the currency involves injury to some, while it affords advantage +to others. + +A sudden or excessive contraction of the currency produces some +effects exactly the reverse of the effects of a sudden or excessive +expansion. It lowers prices and vitiates contracts, to the loss of +the opposite contracting party. + +But the infliction of reverse evils does not compensate for the +former infliction. A second action on the currency, though +unavoidably following the first, is not a reparation, but a new +misfortune. + +Because the parties who are now enriched are seldom the same that +were impoverished by a former change, and _vice versâ_; while all +suffer from the injury to commercial credit which follows upon every +arbitrary change. + +All the evils which have arisen from acting arbitrarily upon the +currency prove that no such arbitrary action can repair past +injuries; while it must inevitably produce further mischief. + +They do not prove that liability to fluctuation is an inherent +quality of paper money, and that a metallic currency is therefore +the best circulating medium. + +They do prove that commercial prosperity depends on the natural laws +of demand and supply being allowed to work freely in relation to the +circulating medium. + +The means of securing their full operation remain to be decided upon +and tried. + + -------------- + +Nations exchange commodities as individuals do, for mutual +accommodation, each imparting of its superfluity to obtain that in +which it is deficient. + +The imparting is therefore only a means of obtaining: exportation is +the means of obtaining importation—the end for which the traffic is +instituted. + +The importation of money into a country where money is deficient is +desirable on the same principle which renders desirable the supply +of any deficient commodity. + +The importation of money into a country where money is not deficient +is no more desirable than it is to create an excess of any other +commodity. + +That money is the commodity most generally bought and sold is no +reason for its being a more desirable article of importation than +commodities which are as much wanted in the country which imports +it. + +That money is the commodity most generally bought and sold is a +reason for its being the commodity fixed upon for measuring the +relative amounts of other articles of national interchange. + +Money bearing different denominations in the different trading +countries, a computation of the relative values of these +denominations was made in the infancy of commerce, and the result +expressed in terms which are retained through all changes in the +value of these denominations. + +The term by which, in each country, the original equal proportion +was expressed is adopted as the fixed point of measurement, called +the par of exchange; and any variation in the relative amount of the +total money debts of trading nations is called a variation from par. + +This variation is of two kinds—nominal and real. + +The nominal variation from par is caused by an alteration in the +value of the currency of any country, which, of course, destroys the +relative proportion of its denominations to the denominations of the +currency of other countries; but it does not affect the amount of +commodities exchanged. + +The real variation from par takes place when any two countries +import respectively more money and less of other commodities, or +less money and more of other commodities. + +This kind of variation is sure to correct itself, since the country +which receives the larger proportion of money will return it for +other commodities when it becomes a superfluity; and the country +which receives the smaller proportion of money will gladly import +more as it becomes deficient. + +The real variation from par can never, therefore, exceed a certain +limit. + +This limit is determined by the cost of substituting for each other +metal money and one of its representatives—viz., that species of +paper currency which is called Bills of Exchange. + +When this representative becomes scarce in proportion to +commodities, and thereby mounts up to a higher value than the +represented metal money, with the cost of transmission added, metal +money is transmitted as a substitute for bills of exchange, and the +course of exchange is reversed, and restored to par. + +Even the range of variation above described is much contracted by +the operations of dealers in bills of exchange, who equalize their +value by transmitting those of all countries from places where they +are abundant to places where they are scarce. + +A self-balancing power being thus inherent in the entire system of +commercial exchange, all apprehensions about the results of its +unimpeded operation are absurd. + + -------------- + +The crying philosophers of all times have mourned over the +pertinacity of men and of nations in clinging to errors through all +the sufferings thence arising; the suffering being ascribed to +"fate, or Providence, or something,"—to any thing rather than to +their favourite errors. The laughing philosophers cannot deny this; +but, looking farther, they see that, error by error being exploded +at length, there is no return to that which is clearly seen to be +the cause of suffering,—unless such an experimental brief return as +can only serve to confirm the truth. Commerce has now been +instituted for a longer succession of ages than we have any distinct +knowledge of;—ever since the first root-digger exchanged his +vegetable food for the game of the first sportsman. From that time +till now, an error has subsisted among all classes of exchangers +which has caused enough of privation, of ill-will, of oppression and +fraud, of war, pestilence and famine, to justify the tears of a long +train of crying philosophers. But the error has been detected. +Philosophers have laid their finger upon it; the press has denounced +it; senates are preparing to excommunicate it; and its doom is +sealed. This error is,—that commerce is directly productive. Hence +arises the belief, that if one party gains by commerce, another must +lose; and hence have arisen the efforts of clansmen to confine their +exchanges within their own clan; of villagers within their own +village; of citizens within their own state; of a nation within its +own empire. Hence it arises that the inhabitants of one district +have been afraid to enjoy the productions of any other district, and +that they have been doomed by their rulers to pine and die in +occasional dearth, and to quarrel with occasional superabundance +when they might have had plenty in the one case, and an influx of +new enjoyments in the other. Hence have arisen some of the most +humbling scenes of human vice which have disgraced the species. + +The atrocious practice of wrecking was formerly pursued, not only as +a method of robbery, but as a means of impairing the commercial +resources of foreigners. There was connivance at pilots who ran a +rich vessel upon rocks; and protection for the country people who +gave their exertions to destroy instead of to save. If the cargo +went to the bottom, something was supposed to be gained to the +country, though those who looked upon the disaster were disappointed +of their plunder. Next came the ridiculous and cruel practice of +making aliens engaged in commerce answerable for the debts and +offences of each other; and as a kind of set-off against the +advantages which they were supposed to take from the people among +whom they lived, they were compelled to pay much heavier duties than +natives for all articles of import and export. + +The necessity thus arose for commercial treaties which should ensure +the safety and proper treatment of commercial agents when any two +powers agreed to exchange good offices. Edward II. made an agreement +with Venice that its merchants and mariners should be permitted, +_for ten years_, to come and go, and sell their merchandise in +security, without having either their persons or goods stopped on +account of other people’s crimes or debts. From the time of such +partial relaxation,—such narrow openings to a foreign trade,—the +wants of the multitude of each civilized people have forced one +after another of the barriers raised by national jealousy, while all +parties remained under the influence of the error that commerce is +directly productive, and of course an advantage to be denied to +enemies, except when a very hard bargain can be driven with them. +Perhaps the most curious specimens in existence of attempts at +mutual overreaching, of laborious arrangement to secure what must +naturally happen, and of an expensive and tyrannical apparatus for +achieving what is impossible, may be found in the commercial +treaties from the infancy of commerce till now. The only idea which +never seems to have struck the negotiators is, that commerce is +valuable,—not because production takes place in the mere exchange of +commodities,—but because systematic exchange facilitates the most +extensive division of labour and the closest economy of capital,— +advantages which must be shared by both if experienced by either of +the exchanging parties. On the same principle that the shoemaker +makes no hats, and the hatter no shoes, and that both find an +advantage in supplying each other, without any new product arising +from the mere act of exchange, the growers of tea and the makers of +hardware respectively profit by supplying each other; and they can +afford to employ an intermediate class, the merchants,—to conduct +their traffic, since they can go on preparing their tea and grinding +their cutlery, while the process of exchange is being transacted. +The saving of capital is mutual also. It must be mutual and +incalculable as long as the regions of the earth differ in their +productions, yielding a superabundance in one place of some +necessary or comfort which is rare in another. No commercial treaty +bears the least reference to the obvious final purpose of all +commerce;—that the greatest number shall obtain the largest amount +of enjoyment at the least cost. Such a recognition of the ultimate +principle would, indeed, be inconsistent with the very existence of +commercial treaties, except as far as they relate to the personal +protection of traders. But, while the people of each country have +shown the most decided inclination to obtain more and more of what +they cannot produce at home, the aim of governments, and generally +of merchants, has been to sell as much as possible to other nations; +to take from them as little as possible but money; and to get the +greatest possible quantity of that. In furtherance of this view, +money has been taken from the people at large, and given to their +merchants to tempt them to go and sell at a loss, rather than not +get hold of foreign money; and again, money has been exacted from +foreigners who come to sell their goods in our ports. Nothing is +gained by this to the nation, as the foreigners must be repaid these +duties as well as the cost of their articles; and it is clear to +every observer how much is lost to all the parties concerned. Yet +such is the false principle on which commercial treaties have +hitherto been founded. This child’s-play of universal circumvention +is pursued less vigorously than it was; and some of the players are +so tired of the wasteful and wearying sport as to be ready to give +it up: but, owing to the false belief that no one could yield +without the rest, the absurdity has endured longer than might have +been expected. + +It was not perceived, till lately, that it is a good thing to any +nation, as it would be to any man, to get what it wants, even if it +be compelled to pay in money when it had rather pay in goods: +especially when it is certain, from the ascertained self-balancing +quality of money, that it will soon flow in from some other quarter +in exchange for the goods wanted to be sold. When so plain a truth +as this is once experienced, it cannot but spread; and fewer +examples will be henceforth seen of nations keeping themselves poor, +lest their neighbouring customers should grow rich. How rapidly such +truth runs, when once sent off on its career, may be seen from the +following facts: it being borne in mind that nations are educated by +the experience of centuries, as men are of years. + +In 1703, a commercial treaty was concluded between Great Britain and +Portugal, which was for many years lauded by the British as being in +the highest degree favourable to the interests of her manufacturing +classes, at a very slight expense. Our woollens were then excluded +from Portugal. Mr. Methuen, who managed the treaty, obtained a free +admission for them, in return for a concession which was considered +a mere nothing in comparison with the advantage obtained. It was +merely promised that port-wine should be admitted into Great Britain +at one-third less duty than French wines. As for the woollens, their +admission into Portugal duty-free was a much greater advantage to +the Portuguese than to us. They obtained cheap an article which they +very much wanted, and which we were sure of selling in one quarter +or another, if we could produce it at such a cost as made its +production worth while. As for the wine,—the Portuguese and the +British have both been suffering ever since for the arbitrary +preference given to that of Portugal over that of France. Portugal +has, and has always had, too little capital for the capabilities of +the country and the wants of the people. By the monopoly of the +British market being given to Portugal, too large a proportion of +its small capital has been devoted to the growth of wine, and the +whole country is in a more backward state than it would have been if +its capital had been allowed to find its own channels. We, +meanwhile, lost the French market for our woollens, brought upon +ourselves retaliatory restrictions on other articles, and were +compelled to drink inferior wine at a greater cost than if the trade +had been left to itself. France grew more pettish; we grew +resentful, and raised the duties again, and again, and again. +Thousands, who had been fond of French wines, found that they could +afford the indulgence no longer, and took to port. Thousands more, +who had drunk port because they could not afford French wines, left +off drinking wine at all. In three years the revenue from the +wine-duties fell off by more than 350,000_l._, while the naturally +wine-drinking population was increasing. The richest of our +citizens, to whom the price of wine is not a very important +consideration, had their cause of complaint. Guernsey was all this +time receiving small quantities of wine, and sending out large +quantities. A prosperous manufacture of wines was carried on there; +and no gentleman could tell how much sloe-juice, apple-juice, and +brandy he might be drinking under the name of wine. There is no good +reason why a day-labourer should not drink French wines at his +dinner instead of beer, if they are equally cheap; and no one knows +how cheap they might have been by this time, if they had been +allowed their fair chance; and the cheaper, and therefore the more +abundant, those wines, the larger must be the quantity of our goods +taken by the French in exchange. As it is, the Portuguese have +profited where we meant they should not, and suffered where we meant +they should be permitted to profit. Our Government has suffered a +diminution of revenue; our rich men have drunk adulterated wines; +our middling classes have been obliged to put up with dear port-wine +or none; our working classes have been debarred from having wine at +all, and have been shut out for more than a hundred years from one +of the largest markets where their labour might have found its +recompense. + +Such are some of the consequences of the famous Methuen treaty, +which was, for a considerable length of years, extolled as a model +of commercial negotiation. These consequences, and others which +followed similar blunders, wrought at length their natural effect +upon the minds of those primarily interested in the principles and +methods of commercial policy. On the 8th of May, 1820, the following +petition from the merchants of London was presented to the House of +Commons. It was signed by all the principal merchants of London;—a +class whose opinions on this question could not but be respectfully +regarded, if they had been announced with less dignity and precision +than we find in this memorable address. The time may and will come +when its propositions will be regarded as a set of truisms scarcely +worthy of announcement under such circumstances of formality; but it +should in fairness be remembered in those days that it was drawn up +at the very period when silk and tobacco were being smuggled into +hundreds of creeks along our shores; when bread and wine were taxed +for purposes of unjust protection at home, and wicked oppression +abroad; and when our houses and ships were being built of bad wood +at a higher cost than need have been paid for the best, in order to +favour a colony which, after all, would flourish much more through +our prosperity than at our expense. No change of times and +convictions can impair the honour due to those who concurred in the +following petition:— + +"To the Honourable the Commons, &c., the Petition of the Merchants + of the City of London. + + "Sheweth, + +"That foreign commerce is eminently conducive to the wealth and +prosperity of a country, by enabling it to import the commodities +for the production of which the soil, climate, capital, and industry +of other countries are best calculated, and to export, in payment, +those articles for which its own situation is better adapted. + +"That freedom from restraint is calculated to give the utmost +extension to foreign trade, and the best direction to the capital +and industry of the country. + +"That the maxim of buying in the cheapest market, and selling in the +dearest, which regulates every merchant in his individual dealings, +is strictly applicable, as the best rule for the trade of the whole +nation. + +"That a policy founded on these principles would render the commerce +of the world an interchange of mutual advantages, and diffuse an +increase of wealth and enjoyments among the inhabitants of each +state. + +"That, unfortunately, a policy the very reverse of this has been and +is more or less adopted and acted upon by the government of this and +every other country; each trying to exclude the productions of other +countries, with the specious and well-meant design of encouraging +its own productions: thus inflicting on the bulk of its subjects, +who are consumers, the necessity of submitting to privations in the +quantity or quality of commodities; and thus rendering what ought to +be the source of mutual benefit and of harmony among states, a +constantly recurring occasion of jealousy and hostility. + +"That the prevailing prejudices in favour of the protective or +restrictive system may be traced to the erroneous supposition that +every importation of foreign commodities occasions a diminution or +discouragement of our own productions to the same extent; whereas it +may be clearly shown, that, although the particular description of +production which could not stand against unrestrained foreign +competition would be discouraged, yet, as no importation could be +continued for any length of time without a corresponding +exportation, direct or indirect, there would be an encouragement for +the purpose of that exportation, of some other production to which +our situation might be better suited; thus affording at least an +equal, and probably a greater, and certainly a more beneficial, +employment to our own capital and labour. + +"That of the numerous protective and prohibitory duties of our +commercial code, it may be proved that, while all operate as a very +heavy tax on the community at large, very few are of any ultimate +benefit to the classes in whose favour they were originally +instituted, and none to the extent of the loss occasioned by them to +other classes. + +"That among the other evils of the restrictive or protective system, +not the least is that the artificial protection of one branch of +industry or source of production against foreign competition, is set +up as a ground of claim by other branches for similar protection; so +that, if the reasoning upon which these restrictive or prohibitory +regulations are founded were followed out consistently, it would not +stop short of excluding us from all foreign commerce whatsoever. And +the same train of argument, which, with corresponding prohibitions +and protective duties, should exclude us from foreign trade, might +be brought forward to justify the re-enactment of restrictions upon +the interchange of productions (unconnected with public revenue) +among the kingdoms composing the union, or among the counties of the +same kingdom. + +"That an investigation of the effects of the restrictive system at +this time is peculiarly called for, as it may, in the opinion of +your petitioners, lead to a strong presumption that the distress +which now so generally prevails is considerably aggravated by that +system; and that some relief may be obtained by the earliest +practicable removal of such of the restraints as may be shown to be +most injurious to the capital and industry of the community, and to +be attended with no compensating benefit to the public revenue. + +"That a declaration against the anti-commercial principles of our +restrictive system is of the more importance at the present +juncture; inasmuch as, in several instances of recent occurrence, +the merchants and manufacturers of foreign countries have assailed +their respective governments with applications for further +protective or prohibitory duties and regulations, urging the example +and authority of this country, against which they are almost +exclusively directed, as a sanction for the policy of such measures. +And certainly, if the reasoning upon which our restrictions have +been defended is worth anything, it will apply in behalf of the +regulations of foreign states against us. They insist on our +superiority in capital and machinery, as we do upon their +comparative exemption from taxation; and with equal foundation. + +"That nothing would tend more to counteract the commercial hostility +of foreign States, than the adoption of a more enlightened and more +conciliatory policy on the part of this country. + +"That although, as a matter of mere diplomacy, it may sometimes +answer to hold the removal of particular prohibitions, or high +duties, as depending upon corresponding concessions by other states +in our favour, it does not follow that we should continue our +restrictions in cases where the desired concessions on their part +cannot be obtained. Our restrictions would not be the less +prejudicial to our own capital and industry, because other +governments persisted in preserving impolitic regulations. + +"That, upon the whole, the most liberal would prove to be the most +politic course on such occasions. + +"That, independent of the direct benefit to be derived by this +country on every occasion of such concession or relaxation, a great +incidental object would be gained, by the recognition of a sound +principle or standard, to which all subsequent arrangements might be +referred; and by the salutary influence which a promulgation of such +just views, by the legislature and by the nation at large, could not +fail to have on the policy of other states. + +"That in thus declaring, as your petitioners do, their conviction of +the impolicy and injustice of the restrictive system, and in +desiring every practicable relaxation of it, they have in view only +such parts of it as are not connected, or are only subordinately so, +with the public revenue. As long as the necessity for the present +amount of revenue subsists, your petitioners cannot expect so +important a branch of it as the customs to be given up, nor to be +materially diminished, unless some substitute less objectionable be +suggested. But it is against every restrictive regulation of trade, +not essential to the revenue, against all duties merely protective +from foreign competition, and against the excess of such duties as +are partly for the purpose of revenue, and partly for that of +protection, that the prayer of the present petition is respectfully +submitted to the wisdom of parliament. + +“May it therefore, &c.” + +In order to see how extensively and how effectually governments have +interfered to pervert the natural distribution of the gifts of +Providence, it would be necessary to review almost the whole list of +spontaneous and artificial productions; for there are few or none +whose spread has not been arbitrarily stopped in one direction or +another. What Great Britain alone,—the most enlightened of +commercial countries,—has done in damming up the streams of human +enjoyment, is fearful to think of. In the vineyards of France and +Portugal, the grapes have been trodden to waste, and the +vinedressers’ children have gone half clothed, because wines were +not permitted to be brought in, and cottons and woollens were +thereby forbidden to be carried out, at their natural cost. During +the long series of years that good tea has been a too costly drink +for many thousands of our population, they would have been glad of +the refreshment of chocolate, in some of its various preparations, +if Spain had been permitted to send it to us from her colonies as +cheap as Spain was willing to afford it. But the article has been +loaded with a duty amounting to from 100 to 230 per cent.; so that +few but the rich could ever taste it; and they have been swallowing +a curious compound of the nut, flour, and Castile soap. The +silkworms of Italy would have wrought as busily for England as for +France, if England had not been jealous of France, and thereby +injured her own manufacture. England is wiser now, and new myriads +of worms are hanging their golden balls on the mulberry trees, while +the neighbouring peasantry are enjoying the use of our hardware, and +looms are kept busy in Spitalfields. Time was when the northern +nations welcomed our manufactures in return for their timber and +iron of prime quality: but now, the ship and house-builders must pay +higher for worse wood from Canada; and we have laid exorbitant +duties on foreign iron, in order to encourage mining at home. The +good people of Sweden and Norway, having nothing to offer us but +timber and iron, must do without our manufactures; and thus are +willing nations prevented from helping one another. Whatever may be +thought of the indulgence of opium in this country, no one objects +to its being used by the Hindoo and the Chinese as a stimulus +appropriate to the climate in which they dwell. If we had allowed +things to take their natural course, Persian husbandmen would have +tended their vast poppy-fields, season by season, guarding the +delicate plant from the injuries of insects, and sheltering it from +unfavourable winds, while the Chinese and the Hindoos would have +been busy preparing commodities to exchange with the Persian, and +all would have been made rich enough by their traffic to keep +British merchant-ships continually going and coming to supply their +wants. But our India Company has chosen to force and monopolize the +culture of opium. It has beggared and enslaved many thousands of +reluctant cultivators; narrowed the demand; lessened its own +revenue, year by year, and just lived to see China freely supplied +with Turkey opium by American traders. Thousands of our lowly +brethren in Hindostan and Ceylon have dropped unnoticed out of life +because they have not been permitted to touch the crisped salt +beneath their feet, or to pluck the spices which perfume the air +they breathe. Millions more have sunk at the approach of famine, +because no labour of theirs was permitted to provide them with what +might be exchanged for food from some neighbouring coast. + +It is difficult to say whether we have injured China or Great +Britain the most by our extraordinary fancy of sending functionaries +invested at once with political and commercial power into a country +where commerce is held by far too degrading an employment to be +associated with political functions. This blunder was made by our +monopolists, who were, but lately, keeping up a splendid +establishment of important personages, who were regarded by the +Chinese as being just above the rank of vagabonds;—no more +respectable, in their possession of incomes graduating from 4000_l._ +to 18,000_l._ a-year, than the American free-traders who turn their +backs on the Hong merchants, and go into the open market, offering +their furs with one hand, and receiving teas and nankeens with the +other, cleverly stealing the trade of the British meantime with +both. What wealth and comfort untold might the two vast empires of +Britain and China have poured into one another by this time, if +their original jealousies had not been perpetuated by English +mismanagement! The Dutch and the Americans have both smuggled large +quantities of tea into England, while the twelve supercargoes at +Canton have been talking politics or yawning within the walls of +their Factory! Truly did the Celestial Emperor say to our +representatives, “Your good fortune has been small! You arrived at +the gates of the imperial house, and were unable to lift your eyes +to the face of heaven.” The day of exclusion is, however, over. It +may be long before we can overcome the contempt of the nation, and +make them forget that some of our politicians were traders: but we +have the interests of the Chinese in our favour. They will import +according to their needs; more of our weavers and cutlers will have +money to buy tea with, and they will get more tea for their money; +and no one can tell what new classes of productions may become +common when the messengers of these two mighty empires shall go to +and fro, and knowledge shall be increased. + +Such are a few of the specimens which might be adduced of the +mischiefs wrought in one hemisphere by interference with commerce. +“To all things there cometh an end;” to all unjust and foolish +things, at least. We are now in possession of so ample a stock of +experience, that the day cannot be far off when all customs duties +shall be repealed but those which are necessary for the purposes of +revenue. There will be some half-objectors left; some importers who +will admit the impolicy of protections of all articles but the one +in which they happen to deal. Mr. Huskisson was pathetically +appealed to to protect green glass bottles; and a last struggle may +be tried with another minister in favour of liquorice or coral +beads; but an immense majority of every civilised people are verging +towards a mutual agreement to give, in order that to each may be +given “full measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running +over.” Such is the plenty in which God showers his gifts among us; +and such is the measure in which he would have us yield each to the +other. + +The countries of the world differ in their facilities for producing +the comforts and luxuries of life. + +The inhabitants of the world agree in wanting or desiring all the +comforts and luxuries which the world produces. + +These wants and desires can be in no degree gratified but by means +of mutual exchanges. They can be fully satisfied only by means of +absolutely universal and free exchanges. + +By universal and free exchange,—that is, by each person being +permitted to exchange what he wants least for what he wants most,—an +absolutely perfect system of economy of resources is established; +the whole world being included in the arrangement. + +The present want of agreement in the whole world to adopt this +system does not invalidate its principle when applied to a single +nation. It must ever be the interest of a nation to exchange what it +wants little at home for what it wants more from abroad. If denied +what it wants most, it will be wise to take what is next best; and +so on, as long as anything is left which is produced better abroad +than at home. + +In the above case, the blame of the deprivation rests with the +prohibiting power; but the suffering affects both the trading +nations,—the one being prevented getting what it wants most,—the +other being prevented parting with what it wants least. + +As the general interest of each nation requires that there should be +perfect liberty in the exchange of commodities, any restriction on +such liberty, for the sake of benefiting any particular class or +classes, is a sacrifice of a larger interest to a smaller,—that is a +sin in government. + +This sin is committed when,— + + First,—Any protection is granted powerful enough to tempt to + evasion, producing disloyalty, fraud, and jealousy: when, + + Secondly,—Capital is unproductively consumed in the maintenance of + an apparatus of restriction: when, + + Thirdly,—Capital is unproductively bestowed in enabling those who + produce at home dearer than foreigners to sell abroad as cheap + as foreigners,—that is, in bounties on exportation: and when, + + Fourthly,—Capital is diverted from its natural course to be + employed in producing at home that which is expensive and + inferior, instead of in preparing that which will purchase the + same article cheap and superior abroad,—that is, when + restrictions are imposed on importation. + +But though the general interest is sacrificed, no particular +interest is permanently benefited, by special protections: since + +Restrictive regulations in favour of the few are violated, when such +violation is the interest of the many; and + +Every diminution of the consumer’s fund causes a loss of custom to +the producer. Again, + +The absence of competition and deprivation of custom combine to make +his article inferior and dear; which inferiority and dearness cause +his trade still further to decline. + +Such are the evils which attend the protection of a class of +producers who cannot compete with foreign producers of the same +article. + +If home producers can compete with foreign producers, they need no +protection, as, _cæteris paribus_, buying at hand is preferable to +buying at a distance. + +Free competition cannot fail to benefit all parties:— + +Consumers, by securing the greatest practicable improvement and +cheapness of the article; + +Producers, by the consequent perpetual extension of demand;—and + +Society at large, by determining capital to its natural channels. + + ------- + +Colonies are advantageous to the mother-country as affording places +of settlement for her emigrating members, and opening markets where +her merchants will always have the preference over those of other +countries, from identity of language and usages. + +Colonies are not advantageous to the mother-country as the basis of +a peculiar trade. + +The term “colony trade” involves the idea of monopoly; since, in a +free trade, a colony bears the same relation as any other party to +the mother-country. + +Such monopoly is disadvantageous to the mother-country, whether +possessed by the government, as a trading party, by an exclusive +company, or by all the merchants of the mother-country. + +It is disadvantageous as impairing the resources of the dependency, +which are a part of the resources of the empire, and the very +material of the trade which is the object of desire. + +If a colony is forbidden to buy of any but the mother-country, it +must do without some articles which it desires, or pay dear for +them;—it loses the opportunity of an advantageous exchange, or makes +a disadvantageous one. Thus the resources of the colony are wasted. + +If a colony is forbidden to sell its own produce to any but the +mother-country, either the prohibition is not needed, or the colony +receives less in exchange from the mother-country than it might +obtain elsewhere. Thus, again, the resources of the colony are +wasted. + +If a colony is forbidden either to buy of or sell to any but the +mother-country, the resources of the colony are wasted according to +both the above methods, and the colony is condemned to remain a poor +customer and an expensive dependency. + +In proportion, therefore, as trade with colonies is distinguished +from trade with other places, by restrictions on buyers at home, or +on sellers in the colonies, that trade (involving the apparatus of +restriction) becomes an occasion of loss instead of gain to the +empire. + +If restrictive interference be impolitic,—oppressive,—impious, +between empire and empire, it becomes absolutely monstrous when +introduced among the different classes of the same country. The +magistrates of a grazing county would do ill to prohibit intercourse +with the manufacturing, and agricultural, and mining districts +around; but much more oppressive and fatal would be the policy of a +city corporation which should make the resources of the city depend +on the will of the corn-dealers which it contained.—Such has been +the policy of the rulers of Britain; and side by side with this +restriction of the supply of food,—this abuse of capital,—may be +placed the curious perversion of labour which is caused not only by +the forcing of agriculture at the expense of manufactures, but by +the existence of exclusive and injurious privileges to trading +corporations, of certain ancient laws respecting apprenticeship, and +of the iniquitous practice of the impressment of seamen. + +The system of restricting the supply of food would exhibit as many +sins under the head of Production as of Distribution. To make an +ever-increasing population depend on graduating soils for its +support, is at once to enact that either a certain number shall die +outright of hunger, or that a much larger number shall be half-fed; +and that, in either, case, waste of capital must be made in +proportion to the inferiority of our newly-cultivated soils compared +with those which might yield us their produce from abroad. From this +waste arises another and equally destructive species of waste in the +preparation of our manufactured articles. Wages are higher than they +need be to purchase the same necessaries; therefore our manufactured +articles are higher priced than they need be; therefore they have +not a fair chance in foreign markets; and therefore our ill-fed +manufacturing population is wronged. Such are some of the evils of a +restricted trade in corn, considered under the head of Production. +As for the distribution of this prime necessary of life,—the +circumstance of its being loaded with an artificial cost suggests +the deplorable scenes and narratives of suffering which may be +verified in every street of all our cities. No arrangement can be +more utterly unprincipled than that by which a necessary of life, of +which the richest can scarcely consume more than the poorest, is +made needlessly expensive. We may linger in vain to find a +comparison to illustrate the iniquity. It is the worst possible +instance of legislative injustice; and when it is considered that +this injustice is perpetrated for the benefit of a particular class, +which class is brought by it to the verge of ruin, and that the +injury spreads to every other class in turn, it will be seen that no +words can describe its folly. Add to this our provisions for +diverting labour from its natural channels, and for making it +stagnate in one spot, and it will appear as if we had yet to learn +the rights of labour and the uses of capital, or as if we openly +defied the one, and abused the other. It is not so, however. The +folly came before the iniquity; and, in cases of false legislation, +the folly, originating in ignorance, must be long perceived and +pointed out,—i.e. must become iniquity,—before it can be remedied. +But the remedy is secured from the moment that the denunciation goes +abroad. We have passed through the necessary stages, and the issue +is at hand. Our grandfathers legislated about corn on false +principles, through ignorance; our fathers clung to these false +principles in a less innocent state of doubt. We have perpetuated +them wickedly, knowing their disastrous results; and a voice is +going up through all the land which will almost immediately compel +their relinquishment. + +Very little can be done to improve the condition of the people till +the Corn Laws are repealed. All practicable retrenchments, all +ordinary reduction of taxation, all reforms in the organization of +Church and State, important as they are, are trifles compared with +this. The only measure of equal consequence is the reduction of the +Debt; and this ought to accompany or immediately precede the +establishment of a free trade in corn. Day and night, from week to +week, from month to month, the nation should petition for a free +trade in corn, urging how landlords, when freed from fluctuation of +their revenues, will be able to bear their fair proportion of the +national burdens; how the farmer, no longer tempted to a wasteful +application of capital, will cease the so-called ungrateful clamour +with which he repays legislative protection; how the manufacturing +class will prosper and will multiply our resources when they are +allowed the benefits of the free competition in which their +ingenuity qualifies them to hold a distinguished place; and how our +labourers will be, by one comprehensive act, raised, every man of +them, a grade higher than any laborious, partial legislation can +raise any one of their classes. An act which must, at once, prevent +the waste of capital and the misapplication of labour, unclog the +system of manufactures and commerce, and obviate the main distresses +of our agriculturists, must do more for the improvement of our +revenue, and the union of our nation than all less comprehensive +measures put together. To untax the prime necessary of life is to +provide at once a prospective remedy for all the worst evils of our +social arrangements. This will scarcely be disputed by those who +admit the principles of the following summary. It is important that +such results of these principles should be traced out and made +familiar to the mind, as it is certain that the days of free trading +in corn are at hand. + + ------- + + As exchangeable value is ultimately determined by the cost of + production, and as there is an incessant tendency to an increase + in the cost of producing food, (inferior soils being taken into + cultivation as population increases,) there is a perpetual + tendency in the exchangeable value of food to rise, however this + tendency may be temporarily checked by accidents of seasons, and + by improvements in agricultural arts. + + As wages rise (without advantage to the labourer) in consequence + of a rise in the value of food, capitalists must either sell their + productions dearer than is necessary where food is cheaper, or + submit to a diminution of their profits. + + Under the first alternative, the capitalist is incapacitated for + competition with the capitalists of countries where food is + cheaper: under the second, the capital of the country tends, + through perpetual diminution, to extinction. + + Such is the case of a thickly-peopled country depending for food + wholly on its own resources. + + There are many countries in the world where these tendencies have + not yet shown themselves; where there is so much fertile land, + that the cost of producing food does not yet increase; and where + corn superabounds, or would do so, if there was inducement to grow + it. + + Such inducement exists in the liberty to exchange the corn with + which a thinly-peopled country may abound, for the productions in + which it is deficient, and with which a populous country may + abound. While, by this exchange, the first country obtains more + corn in return for its other productions, and the second more of + other productions in return for its corn, than could be extracted + at home, both are benefited. The capital of the thickly-peopled + country will perpetually grow; the thinly-peopled country will + become populous; and the only necessary limit of the prosperity of + all will be the limit to the fertility of the world. + + ------- + +But the waste of capital caused by raising corn dear and in limited +quantities at home, when it might be purchased cheap and in +unlimited quantities abroad, is not the only evil attending a +restriction of any country to its own resources of food; a further +waste of capital and infliction of hardship are occasioned by other +consequences of such restriction. + +As the demand for bread varies little within any one season, or few +seasons, while the supply is perpetually varying, the exchangeable +value of corn fluctuates more than that of any article whose return +to the cost of production is more calculable. + +Its necessity to existence causes a panic to arise on the smallest +deficiency of supply, enhancing its price in undue proportion; and +as the demand cannot materially increase on the immediate occasion +of a surplus, and as corn is a perishable article, the price falls +in an undue proportion. + +These excessive fluctuations, alternately wasting the resources of +the consumers and the producers of corn, are avoided where there is +liberty to the one class to buy abroad in deficient seasons, and to +the other to sell abroad in times of superabundance. + +It is not enough that such purchase and sale are permitted by +special legislation when occasion arises, as there can be no +certainty of obtaining a sufficient supply, on reasonable terms, in +answer to a capricious and urgent demand. + +Permanently importing countries are thus more regularly and cheaply +supplied than those which occasionally import and occasionally +export; but these last are, if their corn-exchanges be left free, +immeasurably more prosperous than one which is placed at the mercy +of man and circumstance by a system of alternate restriction and +freedom. + +By a regular importation of corn, the proper check is provided +against capital being wasted on inferior soils; and this capital is +directed towards manufactures, which bring in a larger return of +food from abroad than could have been yielded by those inferior +soils. Labour is at the same time directed into the most profitable +channels. Any degree of restriction on this natural direction of +labour and capital is ultimately injurious to every class of the +community,—to land-owners, farming and manufacturing capitalists, +and labourers. + +Labourers suffer by whatever makes the prime necessary of life dear +and uncertain in its supply, and by whatever impairs the resources +of their employers. + +Manufacturing capitalists suffer by whatever tends needlessly to +check the reciprocal growth of capital and population, to raise +wages, and disable them for competition abroad. + +Farming capitalists suffer by whatever exposes their fortunes to +unnecessary vicissitude, and tempts them to an application of +capital which can be rendered profitable only by the maintenance of +a system which injures their customers. + +Landowners suffer by whatever renders their revenues fluctuating, +and impairs the prosperity of their tenants, and of the society at +large on which the security of their property depends. + +As it is the interest of all classes that the supply of food should +be regular and cheap, and as regularity and cheapness are best +secured by a free trade in corn, it is the interest of all classes +that there should be a free trade in corn. + + ------- + +The duty of government being to render secure the property of its +subjects, and their industry being their most undeniable property, +all interference of government with the direction and the rewards of +industry is a violation of its duty towards its subjects. + +Such interference takes place when some are countenanced by +legislation in engrossing labours and rewards which would otherwise +be open to all; as in the case of privileged trading corporations;— + +When arbitrary means of preparation are dictated as a condition of +the exercise of industry, and the enjoyment of its fruits,—as in the +case of the apprenticeship law;— + +When labourers are compelled to a species of labour which they would +not have chosen,—as in the case of the impressment of seamen. + +The same duty—of securing the free exercise of industry—requires +that companies should be privileged to carry on works of public +utility which are not within the reach of individual enterprise,—as +in the case of roads, canals, bridges, &c.; and also, + +That the fruits of rare ingenuity and enterprise should be secured +to the individual,—according to the design of our patent law. + +In the first-mentioned instances of interference, the three great +evils arise of + + The restraint of fair competition in some cases; + + The arbitrary increase of competition in other cases; + + The obstruction of the circulation of labour and capital from + employment to employment, and from place to place. + +In the last-mentioned instances of protection, none of these evils +take place. + + ------- + +The general principles of Exchange are so few and obvious that there +would be little need to enlarge upon them but for their perpetual +violation. To leave all men free to seek the gratification of their +wants seems a simple rule enough; and universal experience has +shown, not only that wants freely expressed are sure to be supplied, +generally to the advantage of both parties, but that every +interference of authority, whether to check or stimulate the want,— +to encourage or discourage the supply, proves an aggression on the +rights of industry, and an eventual injury to all concerned. All +that governments have to do with the exchanges of nations, as of +individuals, is to protect their natural freedom; and, if a system +of indirect taxation be the one adopted, to select those commodities +for duty which are not necessary enough to subject the lowest class +to this species of tax, while they are desirable enough to induce +others to pay the additional cost. It may be a question whether this +method of raising revenue be wise: there can be no question that a +government directly violates its duty when it grants privileges +(real or supposed) to one class above another. + +But, it is said, governments have always shown more or less of this +partiality. May it be confidently anticipated that they will ever +cease to transgress the legitimate bounds of their power? + +Yes; very confidently. Such transgression is a feudal barbarism. The +feudal system has died out in theory; and it is impossible that its +practical barbarism should long remain. The progress of freedom has +been continuous and accountable, and its consummation is clearly a +matter of confident prophecy. Sovereigns, grand and pretty, +individual or consisting of a small number compacted into a +government, have first exercised absolute power over the lives, +properties and liberties of their subjects: this despotic grasp has +been gradually relaxed, till life, property, and liberty have been +made to depend on law, and not on arbitrary will. Next, the law has +been improved, from being the agent of such arbitrary will, to being +the expression of a more extended and abstract will. From this stage +of improvement the progress has been regular. The province of rule +has been narrowed, and that of law has been enlarged. Whatever may +have been,—whatever may still be,—the faults in the methods of +making the law, the absurdities of the law in some of its parts, and +its inadequateness as a whole in every civilized country, the +process of enlargement has still gone on, some unjust usurpation +being abolished, some sore oppression removed from time to time, +affording a clear prospect of a period when every natural and social +right shall be released from the gripe of irresponsible authority. +No king now strikes off heads at any moment when the fancy may seize +him. No kings’ councillors now plunder their neighbours to carry on +their wars or their sports, or are paid for their services by gifts +of patents and monopolies. No parliaments now make laws according to +the royal pleasure, without consulting the people; and, if they are +slow to repeal some oppressive old laws with which the people are +disgusted, it is certain that such laws could not at this day be +proposed. What can be more eloquent than this language of events? +What more prophetic than this progression? While the agents by which +the advance has been achieved are multiplied and strengthened,—while +its final purposes are more clearly revealed, day by day, what other +expectation can be entertained than that it will advance more and +more rapidly, till the meanest rights of industry shall be at length +freed from the last aggressions of power? Then the humblest labourer +may buy his loaf and sell his labour in what corner of the earth he +pleases. Then legislators will no more dream of dictating what wine +shall be drunk, and what fabrics shall be worn, and through what +medium God’s free gifts must be sought, than they now dream of +branding a man’s face on account of his theology. They will perceive +that the office of dispensing the bounty of nature is not theirs but +God’s; and that the agents he has appointed are neither kings, +parliaments, nor custom-house officers, but those ever-growing +desires with which he has vivified the souls of the haughtiest and +the lowliest of his children. + + ----------------------- + + + + + PART IV. + +CONSUMPTION is of two kinds—productive and unproductive. + +The object of the one is the restoration, with increase, in some new +form, of that which is consumed. The object of the other is the +enjoyment of some good through the sacrifice of that which is +consumed. + +That which is consumed productively is capital, re-appearing for +future use. That which is consumed unproductively ceases to be +capital, or any thing else: it is wholly lost. + +Such loss is desirable, or the contrary, in proportion as the +happiness resulting from the sacrifice exceeds or falls short of the +happiness belonging to the continued possession of the consumable +commodity. + +The total of what is produced is called the gross produce. + +That which remains, after replacing the capital consumed, is called +the net produce. + +While a man produces only that which he himself consumes, there is +no demand and supply. + +If a man produces more of one thing than he consumes, it is for the +sake of obtaining something which another man produces, over and +above what he consumes. + +Each brings the two requisites of a demand,—viz., the wish for a +supply, and a commodity wherewith to obtain it. + +This commodity, which is the instrument of demand, is, at the same +time, the instrument of supply. + +Though the respective commodities of no two producers may be exactly +suitable to their respective wishes, or equivalent in amount, yet, +as every man’s instrument of demand and supply is identical, the +aggregate demand of society must be precisely equal to its supply. + +In other words, a general glut is impossible. + +A partial glut is an evil which induces its own remedy; and the more +quickly the greater the evil; since, the aggregate demand and supply +being always equal, a superabundance of one commodity testifies to +the deficiency of another; and, all exchangers being anxious to +exchange the deficient article for that which is superabundant, the +production of the former will be quickened, and that of the latter +slackened. + +A new creation of capital, employed in the production of the +deficient commodity, may thus remedy a glut. + +A new creation of capital is always a benefit to society, by +constituting a new demand. + +It follows that an unproductive consumption of capital is an injury +to society, by contracting the demand. In other words, an +expenditure which avoidably exceeds the revenue is a social crime. + +All interference which perplexes the calculations of producers, and +thus causes the danger of a glut, is also a social crime. + + ------- + +It is necessary to the security and advancement of a community that +there should be an expenditure of a portion of its wealth for +purposes of defence, of public order, and of social improvement. + +As public expenditure, though necessary, is unproductive, it must be +limited; and as the means of such expenditure are furnished by the +people for defined objects, its limit is easily ascertained. + +That expenditure alone which is necessary to defence, public order, +and social improvement, is justifiable. + +Such a direction of the public expenditure can be secured only by +the public functionaries who expend being made fully responsible to +the party in whose behalf they expend. + +For want of this responsibility, the public expenditure of an early +age—determined to pageantry, war, and favouritism—was excessive, and +perpetrated by the few in defiance of the many. + +For want of a due degree of this responsibility, the public +expenditure of an after age—determined to luxury, war, and +patronage—was excessive, and perpetrated by the few in fear of the +many, by deceiving and defrauding them. + +For want of a due degree of this responsibility, the public +expenditure of the present age—determined chiefly to the sustaining +of burdens imposed by a preceding age—perpetuates many abuses; and +though much ameliorated by the less unequal distribution of power, +the public expenditure is yet as far from being regulated to the +greatest advantage of the many, as the many are from exacting due +responsibility and service from the few. + +When this service and responsibility shall be duly exacted, there +will be— + +Necessary offices only, whose duties will be clearly defined, fully +accounted for, and liberally rewarded;— + +Little patronage, and that little at the disposal of the people;— + +No pomp, at the expense of those who can barely obtain support;—but + +Liberal provisions for the advancement of national industry and +intelligence. + + ------- + +If the above principles be true, a comparison of them with our +experience will yield very animating conclusions. Consumption—that +is, human enjoyment—is the end to which all the foregoing processes +are directed. Demand is the index of human enjoyment. Every increase +of capital creates a new demand. Capital is perpetually on the +increase. To sum up the whole, human enjoyment is perpetually on the +increase. The single exception to this happy conclusion is where, as +in Ireland, the growth of capital is overmatched by the increase of +population. But even in Ireland (the worst case which could be +selected) the evil is so partial as to allow the good to spread. +Though too large a portion of the demand comes in the form of a +clamour for daily food, there is a new and spreading demand for a +multitude of articles of less necessity. Portions of the population +are rising to a region of higher and wider desires; and if this +partial elevation has taken place under a most vicious political +system, there need be no question that a more rapid improvement will +grow up under that wiser and milder government which the civilized +world will take care that Ireland shall at length enjoy. There is +something so delightful in the review of the multiplication of +comforts and enjoyments, that it is difficult to turn away from it +at any time; and never is it more difficult than when establishing +the moral of hopefulness. But I have dwelt largely on this happy +truth in my story of “Briery Creek;” and probably no day passes in +which my readers do not hear or say something about the wonderful +improvements in art, the variety of new conveniences, and the spread +downwards of luxuries to which the wealthy were formerly believed to +have an exclusive title. Great as is still the number of those who +are scorched by God’s vivifying sun, and chilled by his fertilizing +rain, for want of shelter and clothing, the extension of enjoyment +has kept its proportion (being both cause and effect) to the +improvement of the subordinate processes. With every increase of +production, with every improvement of distribution, with every +extension of exchange, consumption has kept pace. The only checks it +has ever received have arisen out of those legislative sins which +have wrought, or must work, their own destruction. + +As for that species of consumption which has been always regarded +with the least complacency,—the too long unprofitable consumption of +government,—nothing can be more cheering than to mark the changes in +its character from an early period of our empire till now. Viewed by +itself, our government expenditure is a mournful spectacle enough; +but the heaviest of the burdens we now bear were imposed by a former +age; and our experience of their weight is a sufficient security +against such being ever imposed again. We are no longer plundered by +force or fraud, and denied the redress of a parliament; we are no +longer hurried into wars, and seduced to tax our children’s children +for their support. The sin is now that of omission, and not of +perpetration. We do not shake off old burdens, or provide for public +order and social improvement as we should; but we do not neglect the +one and despise the other, as was done in days of old; and what is +left undone there is a spreading movement to effect. The only +irreclaimable human decree,—that of an enlightened multitude,—has +gone forth against the abuses of the Church and the Law. The Army +will follow; and there is reason to hope that a force is being +already nourished which may grapple with the gigantic Debt itself. +New and noble institutions are being demanded from all quarters as +the natural growth from the renovation of the old ones. Religion +must yield Education, and Law a righteous Penal Discipline. Schools +must spring up around our churches, and prisons will be granted +where the law must, if possible, mend criminals as effectually as it +has hitherto made them. In time, we shall find that we have spare +barracks, which may be converted into abodes of science; and many a +parade may become an exercising place for laborious mechanics +instead of spruce soldiers. Such are some of the modes of public +expenditure which the nation is impatient to sanction. What further +institutions will be made to grow out of these, we may hereafter +learn in the schools which will presently be planted wherever +families are congregated. All that we can yet presume is, that they +will be as much wiser than ours as our extravagances are more +innocent than the savage pageantries of the Henries, the cruel +pleasantries of the Charleses, and the atrocious policy of the +“heaven-born Ministers” who figure in our history. + + -------------- + +All the members of a society who derive protection from its +government owe a certain proportion of the produce of their labour +or capital to the support of that government—that is, are justly +liable to be taxed. + +The proportion contributed should be determined by the degree of +protection enjoyed—of protection to property; for all are personally +protected. + +In other words, a just taxation must leave all the members of +society in precisely the same relation in which it found them. + +This equality of contribution is the first principle of a just +taxation. + +Such equality can be secured only by a method of direct taxation. + +Taxes on commodities are, from their very nature, unequal, as they +leave it in the choice of the rich man how much he shall contribute +to the support of the state; while the man whose whole income must +be spent in the purchase of commodities has no such choice. This +inequality is aggravated by the necessity, in order to make these +taxes productive, of imposing them on necessaries more than on +luxuries. + +Taxes on commodities are further injurious by entailing great +expense for the prevention of smuggling, and a needless cost of +collection. + +They could not have been long tolerated, but for their quality of +affording a convenient method of tax paying, and for the ignorance +of the bulk of the people of their injurious operation. + +The method of direct taxation which best secures equality is the +imposition of a tax on income or on property. + +There is so much difficulty in ascertaining, to the general +satisfaction, the relative values of incomes held on different +tenures, and the necessary inquisition is so odious, that if a tax +on the source of incomes can be proved equally equitable, it is +preferable, inasmuch as it narrows the province of inquisition. + +There is no reason to suppose that an equitable graduation of a tax +on invested capital is impracticable; and as it would equally affect +all incomes derived from this investment,—that is, all incomes +whatsoever,—its operation must be singularly impartial, if the true +principle of graduation be once attained. + +A graduated property-tax is free from all the evils belonging to +taxes on commodities; while it has not their single recommendation— +of favouring the subordinate convenience of the tax-payer. + +This last consideration will, however, become of less importance in +proportion as the great body of tax-payers advances towards that +enlightened agreement which is essential to the establishment of a +just system of taxation. + +The grossest violation of every just principle of taxation is the +practice of burdening posterity by contracting permanent loans, of +which the nation is to pay the interest. + +The next grossest violation of justice is the transmitting such an +inherited debt unlessened to posterity, especially as every +improvement in the arts of life furnishes the means of throwing off +a portion of the national burdens. + +The same rule of morals which requires state-economy on behalf of +the present generation, requires, on behalf of future generations, +that no effort should be spared to liquidate the National Debt. + + ------- + +No sign of the times is more alarming,—more excusably alarming,—to +the dreaders of change, than the prevailing unwillingness to pay +taxes,—except such as, being indirect, are paid unawares. The +strongest case which the lovers of old ways have now to bring in +opposition to the reforming spirit which is abroad, is that of +numbers, who enjoy protection of life and property, being reluctant +to pay for such protection. + +This reluctance is a bad symptom. It tells ill for some of our +social arrangements, and offers an impediment, at the same time, to +their rectification; and thus gives as much concern to the reformers +as to the preservers of abuses. This eagerness to throw off the +burdens of the state is a perfectly natural result of the burdens of +the state having been made too heavy; but it does not the less +exhibit an ignorance of social duty which stands formidably in the +way of improvements in the arrangement of social liabilities. We are +too heavily taxed, and the first object is to reduce our taxation. +Indirect taxes are proved to be by far the heaviest, and the way to +gain our object is therefore to exchange indirect for direct taxes, +to the greatest possible extent. But the direct taxes are those that +the people quarrel with. What encouragement is there for a +government to propose a commutation of all taxes for one on +property, when there is difficulty in getting the assessed taxes +paid? How is it to be supposed that men will agree to that on a +larger scale which they quarrel with on a smaller? How can there be +a stronger temptation offered to our rulers to filch the payment out +of our raw materials, our tea, our beer, our newspapers, and the +articles of our clothing? The more difficulty there is in raising +the supplies, the more risk we run of being made to yield of our +substance in ways that we are unconscious of, and cannot check. The +less manliness and reasonableness we show in being ready to bear our +just burden, the less chance we have of the burden being lightened +to the utmost. It is more than mortifying to perceive that an +overburdened nation must, even if it had a ministry of sages, submit +for a long time to pay an enormous tax upon its own ignorance. + +Such appears too plainly to be now the case with our nation, and +with some other nations. A party of gentlemen may be found in any +town, sitting over their wine and foreign fruits, repelling the idea +of paying a yearly sum to the state, and laughing, or staring, when +the wisest man among them informs them that they pay above 100 per +cent. on the collective commodities they use. Tradesmen may be found +in every village who think it very grievous to pay a house-tax, +while they overlook the price they have to give for their pipe of +tobacco and their glass of spirit and water. Some noblemen, perhaps, +would rather have higher tailors’ bills for liveries than pay so +much a head for their servants. As long as this is the case,—as long +as we show that we prefer paying thirty shillings with our eyes shut +to a guinea with our eyes open, how can we expect that there will +not be hands ready to pocket the difference on the way to the +Treasury; and much disposition there to humour us in our blindness? + +The cry for retrenchment is a righteous cry; but all power of +retrenchment does not lie with the Government. The Government may do +much; but the people can do more, by getting themselves taxed in the +most economical, instead of the most wasteful, manner. It is a good +thing to abolish a sinecure, and to cut down the salary of a bishop +or a general; but it is an immeasurably greater to get a direct tax +substituted for one on cider or paper. All opposition to the +principle of a direct tax is an encouragement to the appointment of +a host of excisemen and other tax-gatherers, who may, in a very +short time, surpass a bench of bishops and a long gradation of +military officers in expensiveness to the people. It is time for the +people to take care that the greater retrenchments are not hindered +through their mistakes, while they are putting their whole souls +into the demand for the lesser. + +Such mistakes are attributable to the absence of political knowledge +among us; and the consequences should be charged, not to +individuals, but to the State, which has omitted to provide them +with such knowledge. The bulk of the people has yet to learn that, +being born into a civilized society, they are not to live by chance, +under laws that have been made they know not why nor how, to have a +portion of their money taken from them by people they have nothing +to do with, so that they shall be wise to save as much as they can +from being so taken from them. This is the view which too large a +portion of us take of our social position, instead of understanding +that this complicated machine of society has been elaborated, and +must be maintained, at a great expense; that its laws were +constructed with much pains and cost; that under these laws capital +and labour are protected and made productive, and every blessing of +life enhanced; and that it is therefore a pressing obligation upon +every member of society to contribute his share towards maintaining +the condition of society to which he owes his security and social +enjoyment. When this is understood,—when the lowest of our labourers +perceives that he is, as it were, the member of a large club, united +for mutual good,—none but rogues will think of shirking the payment +of their subscription-money, or resist any particular mode of +payment before the objections to it have been brought under the +consideration of the Committee, or after the Committee has +pronounced the mode to be a good one. They will watch over the +administration of the funds; but they will manfully come forward +with their due contributions, and resent, as an insult upon their +good sense, all attempts to get these contributions from them by +indirect means. + +Till they are enabled thus to view their own position, it is not +wonderful, however deplorable, that they should quarrel with a just +tax because it is unequally imposed, ascribing to the principle the +faults committed in its application. This is the less surprising +too, because their teeth have been set on edge by the sour grapes +with which their fathers were surfeited. A lavish expenditure and +accumulating debt have rendered odious the name and notion of every +tax under heaven. Great allowance must be made for the effects of +such ignorance and such irritation. Let the time be hastened when a +people, enlightened to its lowest rank, may behold its meanest +members heard with deference instead of treated with allowance, if +they shall see reason for remonstrance in regard to their +contributions to the state! When they once know what is the waste in +the department of the Customs, and the oppression and fraud in that +of the Excise,—what are the effects of taxes on raw produce, and on +the transfer of property, and how multiplied beyond all decency are +the burdens of local taxation, they will value every approach +towards a plan of direct levy, and will wonder at their own clamour +about the house and window taxes, (except as to their inequality of +imposition,) while so many worse remained unnoticed. I shall attempt +to exhibit the effects on industry and happiness of our different +kinds of taxes in a few more tales; and I only wish I had the power +to render my picture of a country of untaxed commodities as +attractive in fiction as I am sure it would be in reality. Meantime, +I trust preparation will be making in other quarters for imparting +to the people those political principles which they desire to have +for guides in these stirring times, when every man must act: those +principles which will stimulate them at once to keep watch over the +responsibilities of their rulers, and to discharge their own. + + ------- + +What, then, is the moral of my fables? That we must mend our ways +and be hopeful;—or, be hopeful and mend our ways. Each of these +comes of the other, and each is pointed out by past experience to be +our duty, as it ought to be our pleasure. Enough has been said to +prove that we must mend our ways: but I feel as if enough could +never be said in the enforcement of hopefulness. When we see what an +advance the race has already made, in the present infant stage of +humanity,—when we observe the differences between men now living,—it +seems absolute impiety to doubt man’s perpetual progression, and to +question the means. The savage who creeps into a hollow tree when +the wind blows keen, satisfying his hunger with grubs from the +herbage, and the philosopher who lives surrounded by luxury which he +values as intellectual food, and as an apparatus for securing him +leisure to take account of the stars, and to fathom the uses of +creation, now exist before our eyes,—the one a finished image of +primeval man; the other a faint, shadowy outline of what man may +be.—Why are these men so unlike? By observing every gradation which +is interposed, an answer may be obtained.—They are mainly formed by +the social circumstances amidst which they live. All other +differences,—of bodily colour and form, and of climate,—are as +nothing in comparison. Wherever there is little social circumstance, +man remains a savage, whether he be dwarfed among the snows of the +Pole, or stretches his naked limbs on the hot sands of the desert, +or vegetates in a cell like Caspar Hauser. Where-ever there is much +social circumstance, man becomes active, whether his activity be for +good or for evil. In proportion as society is so far naturally +arranged as that its relations become multitudinous, man becomes +intellectual, and in certain situations and in various degrees, +virtuous and happy. Is there not yet at least one other stage, when +society shall be _wisely_ arranged, so that all may become +intellectual, virtuous, and happy; or, at least, so that the +exceptions shall be the precise reverse of those which are the rare +instances now? The belief is irresistible. + +There has been but one Socrates, some say; and he lived very long +ago.—Who knows that there has been but one Socrates? Which of us can +tell but that one of our forefathers, or some of ourselves, may have +elbowed a second or a tenth Socrates in the street, or passed him in +the church aisle? His philosophy may have lain silent within him. +Servitude may have chained his tongue; hunger may have enfeebled his +voice; he may have been shut up in the Canton Factory, or crushed +under a distraint for poor-rates or tithes. Till it has been known +how many noble intellects have been thus chained and silenced, let +no one venture to say that there has been but one Socrates. + +Supposing, however, that there has been but one, does it follow that +the world has gone back, or has not got forward since his day? To +judge of the effect of social institutions on character and +happiness, we must contemplate a nation, and not the individual the +most distinguished of that nation. What English artisan would change +places with the Athenian mechanic of the days of Socrates, in +respect of external accommodation? What English artisan has not +better things to say on the rights of industry, the duties of +governments, and the true principle of social morals, than the +wisest orator among the Greek mechanics in the freest of their +assemblies? It is true that certain of our most refined and virtuous +philosophers are engaged nearly all day in servile labour, and that +they wear patched clothes, and would fain possess another blanket. +This proves that our state of society is yet imperfect; but it does +not prove that we have not made a prodigious advance. Their social +qualifications, their particular services, have not been allowed due +liberty, or received their due reward; but the very circumstance of +such men being found among us, banded together in the pursuit of +good, is a sufficient test of progress, and earnest of further +advancement. Such men are not only wiser, and more prosperous in +their wisdom, than they were likely to have been while building a +house for Socrates, or making sandals for Xantippe, but they have +made a vast approach towards being employed according to their +capacities, and rewarded according to their works,—that is, towards +participating in the most perfect conceivable condition of society. + +When, till lately, has this condition of society been distinctly +conceived of,—not as an abstract good, to be more imagined than +expected,—but as a natural, inevitable consequence of labour and +capital, and their joint products, being left free, and the most +enlightened intellect having, in consequence, an open passage left +accessible, by which it might rise to an influential rank? Such a +conception as this differs from the ancient dreams of benevolent +philosophers, as the astronomer’s predictions of the present day +differ from the ancient mythological fables about the stars. The +means of discernment are ascertained—are held in our hands. We do +not presume to calculate the day and hour when any specified +amelioration shall take place; but the event can be intercepted only +by such a convulsion as shall make heaven a wreck and earth a chaos. +In no presumption of human wisdom is this declaration pronounced. +Truth has one appropriate organ, and principles are that organ; and +every principle on which society has advanced makes the same +proclamation. Each has delivered man over to a nobler successor, +with a promise of progression, and the promise has never yet been +broken. The last and best principle which has been professed, if not +acted upon, by our rulers, because insisted on by our nation, is +“the greatest happiness of the greatest number.” Was there ever a +time before when a principle so expanding and so enduring as this +was professed by rulers, because insisted on by the ruled? While +this fact is before our eyes, and this profession making music to +our ears, we can have no fears of society standing still, though +there be brute tyranny in Russia, and barbarian folly in China, and +the worst form of slavery at New Orleans, and a tremendous pauper +population at the doors of our own homes. The genius of society has +before transmigrated through forms as horrid and disgusting as +these. The prophecy which each has been made to give out has been +fulfilled: therefore shall the heaven-born spirit be trusted while +revealing and announcing at once the means and the end—THE +EMPLOYMENT OF ALL POWERS AND ALL MATERIALS, THE NATURAL RECOMPENSE +OF ALL ACTION, AND THE CONSEQUENT ACCOMPLISHMENT OF THE HAPPINESS OF +THE GREATEST NUMBER, IF NOT OF ALL. + + THE END. + + + + + London: Printed by W. Clowes, Duke-street, Lambeth. + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + Transcriber’s Note + +Hyphens appearing on a line or page break have been removed if the +preponderance of other occurrences are unhyphenated. Those words +occurring midline are retained regardless of other occurrences. The +following variants were retained: land-owner(2), day-light(1), + +On some occasions, a word spans a line break, but the hyphen itself +has gone missing. These fragments are joined appropriately without +further notice here. + +Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, +and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the +original. + + THE FARRERS OF BUDGE-ROW. + + 1.15.14 of which she had this afternoon heard.[”] Removed. + 1.44.15 [“]Some other improvements Added. + 1.69.14 for which t[k/h]e people Replaced. + 1.78.29 Jane’s en[t]rance had baffled her calculations Inserted. + 1.85.32 to each burner.[”] Removed. + 1.126.32 before he calls you t[o] another! Restored. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76102 *** |