Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924083711089 ifOgNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 1924 083 711 089 In Compliance with current copyright law, Cornell University Library produced this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard Z39.48-1992 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. 1998 HE SPARKS LIBRARY. [AMERICA.] Collected by JARED Sparks, LL. D., President of Harvard College. Purchased by the Cornell University, 1872. PHILADELPHIA: THE CLAIMS OF HUMANITY. PHILADELPHIA: OR, THE CLAIMS OF HUMANITY. A PLEi FOE S>aml anJr 'gdi^iam "^ikxm. THOMAS FOSTEE BAEHAM, M.B. Cantab. LICENTIATE OF THE EOTAL COLLEGE OP PHYSICIANS IN LO^'DON. 'H 0i\a5e\0£a fxevh'tij. — Paul. LONDON ; CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 1858. LONDON: ^Wn EDWARDS. PftlHTERS. CIIANnOS-STIlKBT, OOVENT-QABllKK' PEEFACE. The following pages are addressed to those who believe in the supremacy of religious and moral principle, as the rule of human conduct, and the guide to human happiness. The author trusts, that to such as are swayed by this con- viction, liis work will not appear wholly undeserving of attention. It is written under a persuasion, that notwith- standing the many happy advances and triumphs of modern civilization, there stUl remains a great gulf, not only betv^een what the world actually is and what it ought to be, but even between just conceptions on this latter point, and those which actiially prevail. In fe,ct we may truly say, that not merely the thoughtless and the worldly, but even the serious and the good, entertain, for the most part, very inadequate ideas of the condition to which philanthropy and Christian principle are bound to elevate human society. Miserably low as our present position is, compared with the ideal which these afford, we are apt almost to acquiesce in it, as if, after all, it were about the best which the world is destined to realize. But ought we to rest satisfied with a state of things, in which there is so much that is plainly contrary to justice, and revoltinar to humane and generous sentiment ? Ought VI PREFACE. we to think bo meanly of the ultimate designs of Divine Providence 1 Ought we not to aspire after something far better, and to trust that there remains for mankind a great moral and social revolution, and a happier age than has yet appeared ? To do something toward impressing this persuasion, and to suggest, however imperfectly, some of the remedial changes, in our social, political, and religious condition, which appear most essential to its improvement, is what the writer, with much distrust of himself, but with good hope in the destinies of his race, has here ventured to attempt. The reader will perceive, that in the course of these chapters, the author has been led to treat of a consider- able variety of stirring and important questions connected with social reform. He is aware that some of the views which are maintained, are likely, at first sight, to appear to many questionable, at least, if not decidedly en-oneous ; yet he trusts that on maturer consideration, they will think of them less unfavourably; and that even if he should not be so happy as to convince, he shall still obtain credit for having advocated his opinions from a sincere conviction of their truth and importance, and an earnest desire to do wIiM lie could in the service of his fellow-men. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. ON THB BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND CHAPTER II. ON THE EXISTING DISTINCTION OF SOCIAL RANKS ... 30 CHAPTER III. ON A BROTHERLY DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK OF LIFE . 61 CHAPTER IV. ON LnXURlT .... .... 95 CHAPTER V. ON THB DISTRIBOTION OF PROPERTY ... ... 126 CHAPTER VI. ON COMMUNISM, AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION . . . 159 CHAPTER VII. FOLK-RENT : OK THE PEOPLE'S CLAIMS ON THE LAND . . 189 CHAPTER VIII. ON THE INHERITANCE OF LAND . . . ... 223 CHAPTER IX. OK FREEDOM : OR BROTHERLY LOVE IN THE STATE . . . 255 i-Ui CONTENTS. TAGE CHAPTER X. OS BROTHERLY LOVE BETWEEN NATIONS . . 290 CHAPTER XI. ON OATHOLIOITT AND SECTARIANISM : OR BROTHERLY LOVE IN THE CHURCHES 325 CHAPTER XII. CATHOLIC CHRISTIANITY ... 353 CHAPTER XIII. THE APOSTASY OF THE CHURCH . . . . . 387 CHAPTER XIV. THE AGE TO COME 421 THE CLAIMS OF HUMANITY. CHAPTER I. ON THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. There are certain things which we have heard com- mended from our youth, and of whose truth and impor- tance we have never had a shadow of doubt, but which, for that very reason, we treat with habitual neglect, as matters about which we have nothing further either to learn or to do. If I mistake not, our present subject will afford an illustration how erring and injurious such a prejudice often is. Familiar as the daily sun in the heavens, there are two radiant truths, which are the great luminaries of our spiritual firmament : — the Paternal Gha/racter of God, and the Universal Brotherhood of Men. The first is the guiding light of all true religion, which, in its absence, lapses into gloomy and hurtful superstition ; the second is the source of all adequate and worthy apprehensions of social duty, — the inspirer of all that is generous and glowing in the sentiments of philanthropy. For it is only when we regard men as truly our brethren; as beings of a common origin and like nature with ourselves ; placed like our- selves, in this state of trial, under the eye of a common Father in Heaven, to approve ourselves to Him till His B 2 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. further pleasure shall appear, — ^it is only, I say, when we so think of men, that it is possible for us to love and honour them as our duty requires ; that is, as we do our- selves. Moreover, it is this view of human life which un- failingly presents to the mind something sweet and con- solatory, and, amid the frequent darkness and desolation of affairs, sustains an undying hope of happier days. For if all mankind, indeed, are brethren, and have a common parent above, the deep import of this great and holy truth will surely, in due time, be generally apprehended and felt. And when that shall come to pass, then will many things which have hitherto prevailed, be altered. Our worst afflictions will cease. A happy and gentle revolu- tion will come over the face of human society. Men wiU have learnt that their true interests are one; that they cannot in any way so well ensure their own welfare as in promoting that of others ; and that in loving their fellows they best love themselves ; or, as our poet happily ex- presses it, '' That true self-love and social are the same." What strifes may remain, will be kind and generous : to award honour to others, rather than to claim it for our. selves; toserve,ratherthantobeserved; to distribute, rather than to accumulate. In short, those who live to see that day, will behold, so fixr as is possible on earth, both the precepts and the design of the Gospel fulfilled. It wiU be all that this life can do ; and for the imfolding of higher good, mankind must await the discoveries of another state of being. The hrotlierhood of mankind may be contemplated in two points of view ; — that is, either with regard to the natural yitcfe in which it consists, or to the sentilnents and condtict to which those facts ought to give birth. In. FACTS OF THE CASE. 3' other words, we may either engage ourselves in inquiring what the relationship of mankind, in respect to their com- mon origin and natitre, actually is ; or in considering how, in consequence of such relationship, men ouffhl to think, fed, and act toward one another. I think it will be convenient to pursue the subject in the method here indicated Inquiring, then, in the first place, into the facts of the case, we enter unavoidably into a field of some controversy. We all know and venerate the tradition of the ancient Hebrews, recorded by Moses, which ascribes the origin of aU mankind to a single pair of ancestors ; and it likewise appears, that similar traditions were current among many other ancient nations. It is, indeed, an hypothesis so simple and obvious, and appears, at first view, so suf- ficient to meet all the requirements of the case, that it could hardly fail either of suggesting itself to men's minds, or of being readily and extensively accepted It must, however, be admitted, that this is a point on which we can produce no evidence which can be called historical — all such, if it ever existed, having long ago perished in the profound abyss of antiquity. And when, in default of such evidence, the philosophic inquirer turns to consult the subsisting facts of natural history, he finds that neither in that way is it in his power to arrive at any absolute conclusion. For while, on the one hand, there exist varieties of the human race distinguished by such difierences of colour, hair, feature, and general conformation, as can by no means be shown to have been actually produced, in any instance, by the agency of any of the now-existing influences, whether of climate, situation, or habits of life ; — on the other hand, it must be allowed, both that the ascertained influence of some of these causes in producing, in man b2 4 THE BEOTHERHOOD OP MAHKIND. and in other animals, effects more or less similar to those in question, is by no means inconsiderable/ and at the same time, that the comparatively short periods to which our observations extend, afford but an insufficient criterion for judging of the effects which may have been wrought , during vastly greater lapses of time, as well as in mate- rially different physical circumstances. Geology is daily accumulating evidence both of the vast antiquity of the globe, and of the great changes which it has undergone in respect to heat and moisture, the constitution of its at- mosphere, and its other natural conditions. In connexion with these, the races of organized beings which have liyed on its surface, whether of plants or animals, appear to have undergone many revolutions ; nor can we deem it improbable that such causes may gradually have effected some considerable alterations in the human system, though we are unable to appreciate their influence with precision. Amid all the difficulties of this question — and certainly they are not inconsiderable — ^it is at any rate satisfactory to observe, that most of the leading naturalists of the age seem agreed in referring the whole human race to a single species. What this implies, we may gather from the generally accepted definitions of a species. Cuvier has it thus : — " The assemblage of the individuals descended from one another, or from common parents, and of those which resemble them as much as they resemble each other." Decandolle, to the like effect, defines a species as comprising " all those individuals who bear to each other so close a resemblance, as to allow of our supposing that they may have proceeded originally from a single being, or from a single pair." It will be observed that, according to the above defini- tions, the assigpment, by naturalists, of all mankind to a TEST OP REPRODUCTION. O single species certainly does not absolutely imply their derivation from a single pair of ancestors. This, however, it does imply ; — that there are no such differences among mankind as, in the opinion of these philosophers, are in- consistent with such derivation. They do not assert the fact, but they allow it to be, at least, probable. After discussing this question at length, Dr. Carpenter thus concludes : — " None of the variations which have been pointed out as existing between the different races of man- kind, have the least claim to be regarded as valid specific distinctions ; and we are consequently required, by the universally admitted principles of zoological science, to regard all the races of mankind as belonging to the same species, or, in other words, as having had either an identical or a similar parentage." Among the arguments regarded by naturalists as most powerful, though not absolutely conclusive, in establishing unity of species, is the fact of all the varieties breeding freely and perfectly together. They are agreed that between individuals of different species, whether among animals or plants, this does not take place. Pritchard speaks on this point very decidedly. " It seems," he says, " on the whole, evident, all the departments of the or- ganized creation being considered, that the energy of propagation is very defective in the union of different species, and subsequently in the reproduction of hybrid animals or plants. The result of experiments has uni- formly proved, that if such a stock can be kept up for a few successive generations — ^which has only been done by a reunion with a pure breed — ^it has at length disap- peared, or has, at least, ceased to exist as a peculiar race." This argument also gathers strength by contrast ; for when different varieties of the same species mingle together, the race is often strengthened and improved, 6 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. as is -well known by experience, to the breeders of cattle. Now when the results of this test are observed in the case of mankind, nothing can be more decisive and satis- factory. Widely scattered as is the human race over the whole fiice of the earth ; primeval and untraceable as are the divergencies of its various tribes ; great and striking as are, in many in.stances, the physiognomic differences which exist between them ; yet in no known example, even between the most dissimilar varieties, has the natural instinct failed to exert its wonted energy, and to lead to reproduction in its most perfect and permanent form. The civilized sons of Europe's feir Caucasian breed are everywhere prompted by nature to intermingle with the black, copper-coloured, or tawny daughters of the rude tribes among whom commerce or adventure brings them — Negroes, Indians, Mongolians, Malays, Austra- lians ; and in all instances there springs from such inter- course a party-featured offspring, not only perfect in all common lineaments and faculties, but displaying, in their turn, the reproductive energy in undiminished vigour. The argument, then, is simple. It appears, as the result of general observation, that animals belonging to different species do not breed perfectly together. But all the varieties of mankind do breed perfectly together ; there- fore, these varieties are not different species, but one and the same. Cuvier, indeed, appears to regard this argument as being ajone conclusive ; for he says (" R§gne Animal," vol. i. p. 80) — " The human species appears to be one, inasmuch as all the individuals are able to mingle indis- criminately, and to produce fruitful offspring." It would not be suitable to my present purpose to pursue this subject further ; but I have great pleasure in referring those who desire to do .so, to Pritchard's work COMMON ANCESTORS. 7 above quoted,* wliicli they will find abounding botb in interesting facts and just reflections; and though these may not, perhaps, appear to justify all his conclusions, yet I think they wUl, at any rate, go far to prove that there is nothing in the Mosaic doctrine of the single origin of mankind, -which philosophy has at present any ground to reject ; but rather that the tendency both of physical and ethnological researches, so far as they have gone, is to confirm it. Not unreasonably, therefore, the world continues to regard with respect the venerable tradition which the Jewish lawgiver has recorded and sanctioned, in perhaps the oldest of literary monuments ; and which, in following him, Christianity has embraced, and diflFused among all nations. It is of the utmost importance, however, that the great truth of human brotherhood should be seen to rest on facts which are free from all possibility of doubt or cavQ. Having, therefore, already adduced such evidence as seems to be sufficient respecting the specific unity and single origin of mankind, I have now further to remark, that I do not wish to be understood as absolutely insist- ing on either of these points. Concerning both of them, candour must, perhaps, admit that they are to be regarded rather as matters of opinion than as certain facts. Tra- dition, however venerable, is not in itself a very convinc- ing form of evidence ; and the pertinency of supernatural occurrences as attestations to truth, even when admitted as facts, must generally be liable to question. The tech- nical definition, too, of the term species, adopted by naturalists, is not only of somewhat subtle and difficult conception, but is also such that its application can hardly, * Physical History of Mankind. "8 THE BROTHERHOOD OP MANKIND. perhaps, in any case be made with absolute certainty, and is, in fe,ct, not seldom a matter of dispute, — as we often see exemplified in the several departments of natural history. But, fortunately, neither the derivation of all our race from a single pair, nor the assignment of it to a single species, according to the strict criterion of the naturalists, is of any essential importance toward placing the doctrine of human brotherhood on such a basis of fact as befits it. This is secured by that fact already noticed, of the fruitful intercourse of all the varieties of the human race. For this fact, though it may not absolutely prove their deriva- tion from a single stock, does yet certainly involve their descent from common cmcestors, and participation of commmi blood, to an extent great and unlimited. From time immemorial, all the tribes of men have intermingled freely by marriages, and those marriages have produced innumerable and inextricable blendings of their families and nations ; so that, whether their primary origin were from one stock or from several, there must now, of neces- sity, be a common blood flowing through the veins of the whole race. Not otherwise in a great river, the sources may be numerous, but the mighty stream derived from them is one. And though these sources, like the Nile's, be hidden in mountains as unexplored as the primeval ages, yet can we not lift to our mouths a cupful of its waters, to which we may not reasonably believe that each of these sources has been tributary. Admit, then, by way of hypothesis, a plurality of original stocks for mankind, — ten, twenty, or a hundred ; — still shall every individual man now living have reason to believe that his own blood is drawn, in greater or less proportions, from every one of them ; — that it is a portion of a great stream, in which all those tribu- EXTENSIVE INFLUENCE OP INTEKMAEEIAGE. i) tary headsprings are inseparably blended. In every view, therefore, it remains, in virtue of this universal in- termingling of the race, that mankind is one great con- sanguineous family ; true blood-relations throughout ; if possibly not sprung from a single pair, yet sprung from common ancestors, and, therefore, brethren, in a most just and natural sense of the term. Of the extent to which even a very limited inter- marriage between nations will communicate their blood and ancestry to each other, few persons, perhaps, have an adequate idea. Suppose, for instance, an Englishman to have married and brought home an Hindoo woman, and to have by her four children, who in due time inter- marry with other English. Here, at first, we have the blood of the Indian mother imparted only to four persons ; but let the process continue, and in about five hundred years, or sixteen generations, the tinge from this single source might extend itself, were there room, to the enor- mous number of a thousand million ; — that is, to more than the whole present population of the globe. Who can say how extensively the blood of the Spanish no- bility, and Spanish nation in general, has received a Mexican tint, through intermarriages with the descen- dants of CortSz by his fe,vourite mistress and interpreter, Marina ? Nor, perhaps, do most of us duly conceive of the number of our ancestors. They increase, of course, reckoning backward, as the powers of two. For a man has two parents, four grand-parents, eight great-grand- parents, and so on ; till, in the fifteenth generation back, or about five hundred years ago, we find that his ancestors (except so far as intermarriages among themselves may have interfered,) amount to some thirty thousand. From such a vast number of sources is every man's blood derived j — lO THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. how probably then, may we suppose, that he has drawn some of it from every nation under heaven ! It is not, however, to any slender rills of intercommu- nication, such as we have here been fancying, that we have need to refer in proof of the consanguinity of man- kind. All the great varieties of our race, the Caucasian, the Mongolian, the Ethiopian, the Malay, the American, — have for ages been spread contiguously along vast borders, and been joint inhabitants of the same countries and the same towns, and been intermarrying, as it were, in mass and in multitude ; and the results have been proportionate, — ^whole nations, everywhere, of variously blended types, setting all ethnological pedigree at defiance. That aU nations, then, of men belong to one kind, one race, — that they have sprung from common ancestors, whether a single pair or more, and are allied by an all- pervading consanguinity, — are facts which, I trust, have been shown to be beyond all doubt and controversy. It is in this community of origin that human brotherhood, as a natural relation, essentially consists. The import, however, of this relationship will more fully appear, if we further consider that it involves the possession of a like, or common, nature. It is not, of course, intended by this, that all the indi- viduals of the human race resemble each other in all par- ticulars. What we mean is this, — ^that they resemble each other so nearly, that the differences between them are inconsiderobble, when compared with those by which they are all distinguished from all the other animals. The truth of this proposition is, on the whole, so ob- vious, that it does not require to be sustained by any formal argument. It is, however, interesting to observe, how fully it is recognised in the zoological systems adopted by the most eminent naturalists. Considered as an animal. mak's zoological position. 11 mem not only forms a separate species — to use their tech- nical language — but a separate genus, and a sepai-ate order. No nearer affinity is found for him than that by which he falls into the great class mammalia, which comprises all animals that suckle their young. He ranks as one among animals — as one among vertebrated animals — as one among mammalia ; but in the next subdivision in which he finds place, that of the two-handed, he stands alone. These facts may serve to convince us how widely, even to those philosophers whose studies are directed merely to the consideration of physical structure, man has appeared to be severed even from those animals which, in this respect, most nearly approach him. I need not remark, that his spiritual part is all his own. Striking, certainly, as at a general glance, is the resemblance of certain apes to mankind in their form ; yet, after all, when we inquire for their mind, their intelligence, it does not appear, as Cuvier observes of the orang-oviang, much to excel that of a dog. It is also interesting to notice, that the principal pecu- liarities of the structure of man are all such as have relation to his intellectual superiority, and are subservient to its manifestation. The strength and disposition of his lower limbs, and especially the admirable mechanism of his foot ; affi)rding him, by its firmly knit, yet elastic arch, at once so broad and solid a basis of support, and so vigorous an instrument of progression — enable him, in connexion with other suitable arrangements to the same effect, to maintain that erect position which is natural to him alone amid the whole animal creation, and which, as our divine bard nobly sings, so well becomes his lordly pre-eminence. " Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honour clad, In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all. " 12 TfiE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. It is this same arrangement which, by entirely setting ■free man's wpper limbs from the labour of locomotion, enables him to devote them exclusively to the service of his contriving mind ; for which also by their structure they are so admirably adapted. In other words, man- kind being so constructed as to require hui, two feet, have obtained, in lieu of the other two, a couple of hands, — ^and vrith these they rule the world. The ape, on the other hand, though he can make a shift to stand pretty well erect when he chooses, is neither much at ease in that position, nor maintains it long. In fact, he is not very well adapted either for standing or walking; he is rather to be regarded as fowr-hamded, than as having feet at all, and finds his proper place when climbing the trees of the intertropical forests — in short, he is the true satyr of the woods. But though four-handed, he has no hand equal to the human, not being so well endowed as we are with independent action of the several fingers. The ape, moreover, has fangs or tusks, sharp and long, nearly like a dog or other beast of prey. In man this character disappears ; a beautiful natural indication of the mildness and refinement of those habits for which he is designed. The ape, again, like other brutes, is nearly overgrown with thick liair. The human skin, being for the most part but very slightly so invested, presents a smooth and glossy surface, which pleases both the eye by its beauty, and the touch by its softness. It is also, for this reason, susceptible of more delicate cleanliness ; and likewise is more easily adaptable, through aid of clothing, to the various temperatures of diflferent climates ; thus fitting man to become an inhabitant of all parts of the globe. To these distinctions of man is to be added the remark- DISTINCTION FROM LOWEE ANIMALS. 13 able character of his counCenance, with its finely-wrought and flexible features, so full of beauty and expression; the Ivwmom face divine, as it has very fitly been called ; the material lineaments of that Divine image which dwells in him. And note, again, that large development of the brain, the organ of the intellectual powers, unapproached in any other animal, and indicated externally by the noble orb of his head, appearilig aU the more majestic above the comparatively small face which it surmounts. But far transcending all distinctions of mere bodily structure, we find in man that wondrous endowment, the gift of speech ; a fiiculty so peculiar, that were he called only the speaking animal, it would be impossible to con- found him with any other. Of this it is easy to be con- vinced, if we consider what speech reaMy is. Great and peculiar is the perfection of man's vocal organism, so diversified both in articulation and intonation. But speech is not merely articvlate viterance, for in that pies and parrots can mimic us pretty welL Bightly defined, speech is the vocal expression of reason ; and therefore it can exist, only where a rational soul and an exquisite vocal organism are found together. Hence in Hellenic, the most philosophic of tongues, the same word, Xdyoc, denotes both speech and reason. Speech, then, tVea ■KTt^otvTa, the swift-winged intercourse of souls, is that one peculiar gift, that crowning and godlike prerogative of mankind, which everywhere asserts their common nature, and their high pre-eminence above all other living beings on the face of the earth. It would be superfluous were I here to enlarge either on the instincts of animals, or the reason of man. I can conceive of instincts only as of certain blind propensities, whereby an animal is gviided, by a wisdom above its own, to the fulfilment of the purposes of its being. Admitting 14 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. that mankind, too, are in many things guided by instinct, as well as that other animals are not without some feeble spark of reason, it is yet true, on the whole, that while the traces of reason in brutes are so faint and few as by many even to be deemed equivocal, this faculty is to man the great light and guide of his life, and that in its im- mensely superior development consists the grand distinc- tion of his nature. Nor let us fail to observe, that this capital distinction of mankind is conspicuous and tri- umphant alike in every tribe of the human race. Every- Mrhere, through it, men assert their sovereign dominion over the lower creatures, subject them to their control, and make them subservient to their use. Among the most remarkable fruUs of this gift of reason, is that capability oi progressive improvement which is inherent in every human society. There are, indeed, certain rude tribes of men who dwell in caves or wigwams, use no clothing, practise no tillage, and feed on the spon- taneous productions of nature, and whose habits might seem to differ not very widely from those of the brute animals around them. But history informs us that nations which were once among the rudest, have in after-ages become civilized, and unfolded all those characteristic at- tainments to which no lower animals ever make the smallest approach. On the other hand, these animals, even the most sagacious, remain fixed, from age to age, in an invariable routine of instinctive habits, developed with almost unerring uniformity in every individual ; or if occasionally diversified by some sliow of further advance- ment, deriving even that from human training. But, perhaps, among all the characteristic distinctions of human nature, there is none of more importance, in relation to our present subject, than that which is seen in those strong social instincts and affections which every- SOCIAL AFFECTION. 1ft •where display themselves among men ; drawing them together into communities, and disposing them to com- panionable and friendly relations, whenever adverse cir- cumstances do not counteract the tendencies of their nature. Nothing can exceed the exquisite sensibility of man toward his fellows. This is the source of his most lively joys, his warmest desires, his keenest griefs, his most de- pressing fears. From it arise all his most earnest and habitual pursuits. His social affections are, in short, his very life. In society only can he be happy ; to be alone would be misery to him, even in paradise. It is this in- stinctive yearning of the human heart which is so well expressed by Cowper, in the mouth of the poor castaway. Though monarch of his beautiful island from the centre to the shore, still he ceases not to pine and bewail his de- solate lot : " Society, friendahip, and love, Divinely bestowed upon men ; Oh ! had I the wings of a dove. How soon would I taste you again !" This is true to nature. Fastidious, exclusive, coy, as men may seem in ordinary circumstances, where they are almost sated with a glut of society ; change but their situation, and let the alternative be solitude, and there is scarcely a human being so ill-conditioned and uncongenial, but they will cleave to him with kindly sympathy, and find solace in his society; — as did Robinson Crusoe in that of his rescued cannibal. They then know the value of a 9nan. It is not unusual to bear the sequestered rudeness of savages called a state of nature, as if the organization of social communities were something wranatural and foreign to man. This view of the matter, if correct, would in-< 16: THE BROTHERHOOD OP JlAUKIirD. volve a perplexing paradox ; for -whatever is truly na- twral must be presumed to be good; and we should thus be led to infer that savage life, with all its seeming wretchedness, is preferable to civilization, with all its boasted blessings. But this is not so. Whatever, in any class of beings, is the condition and mode of life to which, in virtue of their constitution and instincts, they are found regularly to tend, that surely ought to be regarded as their naMural state ; and by this criterion, the natural state of 7na/n appears evidently to be the social and civilized, a,nd busy towns and villages^ not caves and lonely huts, to be his natural abodes. If it be not so, then their busy lull is not the natural dwelling of ants, nor their honey-stored nest, of bees. Social orgcmization, then, is man's natural state, as it is his best and happiest, and that to which he ever tends. If mankind were dispersed abroad in solitary families, their condition would be more forlorn than that of the rudest tribes with which we are now acquainted. It is pro- bable that in such a case even the power of speech would be but scantily developed, and that with difficulty would they maintain a precarious existence amid the attacks and depredations of the surrounding brutes. How different is the scene when men dwell together in harmonious and well-ordered communities ! It is then that all the glorious and unapproachable pre-eminence of their nature unfolds itself Admirable, indeed, and mani- fold, are the advantages of social union ; — defensive strength, maintenance of rights, division of labour, invention of machinery, multiplication of products ; knowledge, letters, and arts ; progressive improvement, and altogether incal- culable good. And, seeing that the effects of man's social tendencies are thus excellent, let us further inquire what it is, in his THE FATHER IN HEAVEN. 17 heart and affedums, wMch gives birth to them. Must not this ako be something good and blessed 1 Solitary beings are selfish and hostile, Kke birds and beasts of prey : society springs from sympathy and love. And may it not ■with truth be said, in spite of all unhappy &cts to the Contrary, that mankind, as they are the most social, are also the most loving race of beings on the earth? I • verily believe that this is so true and evident that on due reflection, few would be found to gainsay it. It is assuredly the rule, the prevailing habit of their being, to love j — ^to be kind and do good to one another. It is even a necessity of their nature. What is contrary to this is the exception : — a disturbance which, like the ripple caused by obstacles in a gentle stream, interrupts the benevolent and friendly tenor of their lives. Such, then, are the ties by which a common origin and a common nature, and the social affections and necessities which spring from them, bind aU mankind together in a true and universal brotherhood. But there is something further. The holy and blessed Founder of the Christian religion, not contented that we should regard human brotherhood merely as a physical or social fact, teaches us to contemplate it under a still ' higher aspect : — " Call no man your father on earth ; for one is your Father, who is in heaven ; and all ye are brethren." Such words need no comment. In remind- ing us that all men are brethren, because they are all the rational children of God, they present the subject in that view which is of all the greatest and most impressive. " Christianity," says Channing, " lays the foundation of a universal love, by revealing to us the greatness of that na- ture in which all men participate " * • "Memoirs," vol. iii. p. 5. C 18 THE.BEOTHEBHOOD OP MANKIND, Having now reviewed, in such brief and summaiy manner as our limits will allow, the leading constituent facts of human brotherhood, we are led, in the next place, to take some notice of the sentiments and duties which this relationship demands. We have no need here of ethical philosophy. What are the sentiments which belong to brotherhood, every good man will be taught by his own heart. He will . know and feel that man to man is, of nature and right, an equal, a companion, a friend. In short, the sentiment of true philanthropy will embrace, in all its fulness, the golden law of the Gospel : — ^to love other men as we love ourselves : — ^to do to them as we would they should do to ns. It will lead us to view all our social relations in the light of a fair and generous reciprocity. We shall not even wish to enjoy any such advantages as imply an en- grossment of more than our fair share of the good things of life ; and all distinction and exaltation founded on the humiliation of others we shall loathe. The sentiment of brotherhood will always love and seek as much of equality, both in goods and honours, as the nature of human things admits. It will regard unbrotherly ine- qualities and estrangements as so many diseases, to which, indeed, the social system is naturally liable, and ever more or less tending, but which ought to be avoided and abated as much as possible. We often err in not distinguishing the sentiment of brotherhood from one of simple kindness and good-wUl. It involves these indeed, but it goes much further ; other- wise it would not, after all, claim for a human being more than is due to a horse or a dog. But it is a senti- ment not only of kindness, but oi friendship and JeUow- ship — of love and honov/r. It makes us feel toward a fellow-man, that /te is as we are : — that what would SOMETHING MORE THAN KINDNESS. 19 degrade and dishonour ourselves, would degrade and dis- honour him, — that what would be cruel or unjust toward ourselves, would be so toward him likewise. And aU this for the very reason of our common nature, — our homoiopathy {ofiounradeia), — to use, in its true sense, an expressive Greek term. It is the sentiment which is expressed in the Gospel, when it says, " Ye are members one of another : and whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it, or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it." By the sentiment of brotherhood, therefore, a man will respect the rights and honour of the common nature in every individual of his kind. Nor will this be only from compassion, but partly also from pride and self-love. Is not this natural ? Do we not commonly feel so if any one of our kinsmen, or fellow-countrymen, be injured by those of other families, or other nations ? Do we not feel as if such injuries extended to our wliole family, to our whole nation, and in them to ourselves? And do we not resent them accordingly ? Now, such will be the feeling of a generous and philanthropic man when he beholds a brother man treated as man ouglU not to he treated, — insulted, oppressed, defrauded. He will not merely sympathize as with an individual thus aggrieved. He will feel that the whole race of man has been injured in that individual's person — ^that himself, and his family, and his friends, and his countrymen, and all whom he loves and honours, have shared in the ill-treatment. And justly will he feel so. For if human rights and human honour are to go for nothing in one instance, why not in another ? And he that violates these in one man's person, has, in principle and intention, violated them everywhere. It is just, therefore, that against the oppressor and the spoiler, wherever or whoever he be, c2 126 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIKD. the common resentment of humanity should arise. Yesj children of men ! Feel for your brethren ! Make their ■Wrongs your own : for, indeed, they are so. And if ye hug yourselves in selfish unconcern, and will not stir^ because the injury as yet touches not yourselves, your apathy will deservedly be punished, when none will pity or help you. Such, in a general view, is the sentiment of brotherly love. But now let us consider a little more particularly, how it will carry itself forth in conduct ; and in doing this, there are three points to which I especially desire to direct attention. In the first place, as regards personal intercourse, it is jf)lainly our duty to treat every brother man as a companion and friend, on equal and honourable terms, notwithstand- ing all distinction of rank or riches, or other accidental dif- ference of outward condition, because such treatment is simply what man owes to man. We should ever be disposed, as occasion may suit, to free and friendly conversation with all our neighbours, — an agreeable, humane interchange of thoughts and feelings, whether for information, consola- tion, advice, or mere social enjoyment. And than this there is nothing which more knits men's hearts together, melts away the frigid restraints of ceremony, awakens natural sympathies, and makes men sensible of the links of their common nature. Half an hour's easy chat, with a few pleasant jokes and freedoms, will often do more toward making men friends than anything else in the world. Neither opposing interests, nor oonfiicting opinions, nor even resentment for past injuries, can resist the charm oif frank and cordial communication ; how much less the flimsy and capricious barriers of conventional etiquette ! Open, then, your heart : open your mouth : be not afraid to abide by your simple humanity. Be content to FENELON — AENOLD. 21 receive from meu no greater respect than yonr own. personal good qualities shall secure for you. Consider that man, as man, is your fit and equal companion ; — to talk, to laugh, to eat, to walk, to play. And if you shrink from his companionship, without having to show that, for some special cause, he has forfeited the common dues of humanity, sin and folly lie at your door. This aflEable. humanity has ever been characteristic of those who have been greatly good. It was so of the beloved Fenelon. In his walks, it is recorded of him, that he was wont to join the peasants, sit down with them on the grass, talk with them, and console them. When war desolated his province, he brought together in his palace the wretched inhabitants who were driven from their homes, and fed them at his own table. A man of this stamp, too, in our own day, was the late learned and pious Dr. Arnold, of Rugby. His biographer informs us, that, " feeling keenly what seemed to him at once the wrong and the mischief done by the too wide separation between the higher and lower orders, he wished to visit them as neighbours, without always seeming bent on relieving or instructing them ; and could not bear to use language, which, to any one in a higher station, would have been thought an interference. And in all this there was no affectation of condescension. It was manly intercourse ; as of a man with his fellow- men. The poor said of him, — We never knew such a humble man as the Doctor : he comes and shakes us by the hand, as if he was one of us." * Then, secondly, there is the business of life : — a great deal of work, much of it necessary, and by some one to be done, or the world would not go on well ; and much, * Stanley's "Life of Arnold." 23 tCHE BROTHERHOOD OF MJlNKIND, too, that is unnecessary, and might better be left undone, if people would but think so. Now, in respect to this ioork, brotherly love would counsel a fair distribution of labours, and reciprocity of services. It cannot approve, either that the burden of toil should be thrown oppres- sively on some, while others sit comparatively idle ; or that just all the easier, pleasanter, and more honourable functions should be reserved for some, white to others is assigned all the toilsome, stupid, and degrading drudgery. It is not thus that any company of friends, on a free and honourable footing, would deal with one another. It is nothing but the mighty leaven of selfishness, work- ing throughout society, which thus produces a result which generosity and humanity must ever behold with pain. An honest and right-minded man will therefore desire, as far as he can, to do his own fair share in the work of life, both in quantity and quality. So far as good economy allows, he will endeavour to supply his own wants by his own labour, which is the simplest and noblest method ; and where it shall appear more profit- able to avail himself of the principle of selected occupa- tions, and exchange of services, he will still endeavour to carry this out by the rule of a fair reciprocity, seeking to repay the labours of others by equivalent labours of his own. To be all one's life a receiver of unrequited benefits, an unproductive consumer of the fruits of other men's labours, is surely a position which no honourable mind could contemplate with satisfaction. What is it but to be a dead weight and incumbrance on the industry of the community t Yet there is something worse, even than this. It is when men employ others to do for them, what they deem it unworthy and disgracefid to do for themselves. Such conduct is, indeed, so common in the FAIR DISTRIBUTION OP PROPERTY. 23 world as to be quite a matter of course ; yet is it difficult to conceive any which is really more ungenerous. There remains a third great principle of brotherly con- duct, not more important in itself than necessary to the carrying out of the two former. Vain will it be to expect among mankind either a becoming freedom and friendli- ness of personal intercourse, or a fair and honourable par- ticipation of the labours of life, unless there be also some- thing like a fair and equable distribution oi property. It must be obvious to the slightest reflection, that where there prevails gross inequality in this respect, — so that while a comparatively few abound in wealth, the great majority are poor and needy, — these last will be driven, by their necessitous circumstances, to compete for all kinds of laborious and servile occupations ; that they will be des- titute, in great measure, of ediication and mental culture ; that they will, in consequence, be rude in speech and manners ; and, on the whole, will be much disqualified for a brotherly intercourse with those who have been reared in widely contrasted circumstances. It is therefore an indispensable point in true philan- thi'opy, that in relation to property, or the material good things of life, we endeavour to content ourselves with such fair and rateable measure as equitably falls to our share ; and to award the same, as far as in us lies, to all our brethren. Unless this be done, it appears to me that all talk of brotherly love is little else than mockery ; if not hypocrisy, it is self-delusion ; — mere good intentions, or, at best, but well-meant endeavours, failing miserably of their object, because those who make them either do not apprehend, or shrink from embracing, that condition which is essential to their succes.s. Do we not, in fact, see an example of this, in our many abortive attempts to deal with our criminal population ? 24 .THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. Three-fowrths of our committals are of poor persons, for offences against property. With a view to remedy this state of things, there has been endless debate and experi- ment. We shift our penal system from year to year. We pass from Draconic severity to childish lenity. We ring melancholy changes on transportation and prison dis^ cipline. StiU, crime increases. The cry is now for the schoolmaster ; and, no doubt, this is a step in the right direction. But will it alone be sufficient ? In short, can we reasonably expect that the rights of property wiU be duly respected by a population, who only in so small a degree partake in its benefits ? " That many and great evils," says the late Jonathan Dymond, of Exeter, in his excellent " Essays on Christian Morality," " result from the inequality of property, is in- dicated by the many propositions ■which have been made to diminish or destroy it. We want not, indeed, such evidence, for it is sufficiently manifest to every man who will look round upon his neighbours." There is, however, some distinction to be taken in this matter, between property of different kinds. Some sorts of property are mainly the creation of human industry, and so far are justly subject to a private claim on the part of the producers, or of any other person to whom they may have given or bequeathed them. But the greatest and best of all properties, beyond compare, is that of the earth itself, — the great instrument by the use of which, in the exercise of his natural powers, man is enabled to furnish himself with food, and all the other necessaries and com- forts of his life ; but deprived of which, he is destitute and helpless, — ^reduced to a servile dependence on others even for a place to rest in, or a morsel to eat Now, the landi% no man's workmanship, but the common gift of God to all our race : to be allowed, therefore, in some form. CtVlL GOVERM'MENT. 25 t<3 paTlake fairly and reasonably in the benefit of tiis gift, appears to be a matter of common right to all mankind. It will be the part of brotherly love to endeavour, as far as may be possible, to efiect just and useful arrange-, ments of this matter, by the provisions of pttblic law ,) and in respect to such disproportions as cannot so be remedied, to do all within its power, in a private capacity, to mitigate the evil. If fortune shall have placed in our hands more than our proper share of the common wealth, it will dispose us to use this power so sparingly for our- selves, so generously for others, as to show that we regard our possessions, not as if they were our own, but as a trust, of which we are made stewards for the benefit of our brethren. Thus, then, in respect to these three important elements in the economy of human life, — namely, social intercourse, work, and property, — we see how brotherly love weaves, as it were, a triple cord of philanthropy. But its benign influence does not end here — it reaches the whole circle of human relations, and is the health and grace of the entire social system . Take, for example, the instance of ci/vil government. To this it is a necessity of human life to be subjected : and probably there is truth in the saying, that even a bad government is better than none. Yet it is no light thing for the sons of men to find themselves under the absolute control of an irresistible and irresponsible human power, such as is wielded by the supreme authority of every state, — and grievous are the wrongs which they may sufier, and which they often liave sufiered, from its abuse. Here, then, is the greatest need, the grandest field, for the influence of brotherly love. If rulers and people would but bear in mind the great and simple truth, that all men, alike the governors and the governed, are brethren. 26 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. bow changed would be the aspect of political affairs ! This one consideration would set everything in its true light. It would make it clear that all government exists for the benefit of the people, and that this ought ever to be its aim ; and, as a consequence, that the will of the people is, vmder God, the rightful source of all law and all power ; that the common weal, and not the interests of party or faction, is the object which ought ever to be kept in view ; that equal rights belong naturally to all the citizens, and consequently, that no distinctions, or privileges, ought to be conceded to any, save such as are due to superior merit, or subservient to the public good ; that every citi- zen is entitled to so much voice in public concerns as he is qualified to exert consistently with the general welfare ; that the burdens necessary for the public service ought to be laid impartially on all ; and, in general, that the con- duct of those in power toward all the citizens, ought ever to be expressive of respect and good-will. In short, brotherly love would establish, as the cardinal maxim of politics, that the true end and aim of civil government is to protect every citizen in the enjoyment of all his natural rights, without further restraint or coercion than is ne- cessary to make him respect the rights of others ; all which, in one word, is — FREEDOM ! But we are not to suppose that the expansive principle of brotherly love will confine its good offices to those of its own race or nation : " Friends, parents, kindred, first it will embrace ; Its country next ; and next, all human race. It will overleap all ethnical distinctions and political bar- riers, and, careless of national rivalries and hostilities, will hold itself for a true cosmopolite, in fellowship and good- , will with all the world. Under its benign influence, war, INFLUENCE IN RELIGION. 27 that bloody meteor of vain-glory, will disappear, and the friendly intercourses of commerce become a bond of peace between all nations. To the Christian philanthropist especially, there will be neither Greek nor Jew, barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, but a brother in every man, and Christ all in all. And pre-eminently will he feel that a debt of kindness is due to those rtider and simpler tribes of men, often miscalled savages, whom unpropitious circum- stances have retarded in the career of social progress : — much injured and belied as they have been by their more fortunate brethren, and even denied a place in the human family. The sentiment of brotherly love will also powerfully sway our conduct in matters of religion. When we con- sider our fellow-men as the rational children of God, bound like ourselves to revere and worship Him, and en- deavouring, more or less perfectly, according to the light given them, to do so, we shall feel for them, in this view, a sincere respect and affection. We shall sympathize with what is pious in the spirit and intention of their reli- gious services, even when we cannot approve the form, ; as far as we can go on common ground, we shall ever be ready to cultivate religious communion with them ; and especially shall we gladly unite with all human beings, anywhere and everywhere, in rendering homage and thanksgiving to the one great God, the Father of all. But, above all, we shall profoundly respect the rights of our brotlier's conscience, and abhor the impiety, and cruel wrong, of attempting to coerce or restrain him in the dis- charge of what he deems his duty to his God ; — that be- setting sin of zealots in every age, by which, •whXi.a forcing, as far as in them lies, their brother to sin, and punishing him for his highest virtues, they outrage both God and man, and heap tenfold condemnation on their own heads. ?8 THE BROTHERHOOD OF MANKIND. Within the pale of the Christian Church, — if the time shall ever come when that which is so called shall be worthy of the name, — brotherly love will breathe through all its proceedings the spirit of unity and peace : it wUl extinguish censorious and exclusive zeal, and for heresies and schisms it will prove a radical cure. Reserving to ev^ry member his proper right of private judgment, and content with the confession of those great evangelic truths whose Scriptural authority is universally acknow-, ledged, it will erect no standard of orthodoxy but that sacred canon which all Christians allow ; laying thus the foundations of ecclesiastical union in a generous Catho- licity. . Christians will then cease to present to the world that melancholy and ridiculous spectacle which they have hitherto done, — continually wrangling with one another about the contents of that book which is given them for their common guide. But when shall these things be, and where are the signs of their coming? Have we even reason to expect that upon earth a prevalence of brotherly love will ever be realized ? Assuredly, by the grace of God, it is quite in the power of mankind to realize it, if they will ; — but toiU they ? It is a question involving the mysteries of Divine Provi- dence, and which, therefore, we cannot presume to answer. While we are assured that the wisdom of God pursues only good as its ultimaite aim, we yet know that He sees a place for evU also, as a necessary condition, or means, of its accomplishment ; and tha,t it is His alone to judge in what forms and measures evil ought to be admitted. Yet we are not without arguments of hope. The con- tinual progress and diffusion oi knowledge, — the ever-grow- ing treasures of experience, and, in connexion with these, the more enlightened influence of jmblic opinion, and improvement of public laws and instituiions,-^h-a.t, stiU OUB DUTY PLAIN. 29 more, the persevering labours and prayers of the mighty host of good and faithful men, and the hopes which we derive from the inexhaustible riches of the Divine good- ness, strengthened as they are by the tenor of the prophetic word : — ^these things, in spite of aU discou- ragements, — in spite of the threatening aspects of des- potism, superstition, and iniquity, by which we are often appalled, — ^keep alive, in the great heart of humanity, a cheerful trust that there is — A good age coming. And, if so, what can that be but an age of brotherly love ? But whatever be the counsels of Heaven, the path of human duty is plain. To most of us it may appear little that we can do toward reforming the world ; but we can each of us resolve that, as far as in us lies, brotherly love shall reign both in our breasts and in that little sphere to which our influence extends : and in doing this, we shall at least do our part toward the great con- summation. And then, without presumption, may we think it said to us, as to the Prophet of old — " Go thy way, till the end be : for thou shalt rest, and stand in thy lot, at the end of the days." 30 THE EXISTING DISTINCTION OF SOCIAL HANKS. CHAPTEE II. ON THE EXISTING DISTINCTION OF SOCIAL EANKS. While it is manifest that among the many and various races of living beings on this globe, that of man very greatly surpasses all others both in intellectual and prac- tical energies, and maintains, in consequence, an universal and irresistible dominion over them, — walking among them in lordly dignity, and subjecting them to his will and service, — it is yet no less evident that certain forms of misery and degradation prevail to a vast extent in the life of this proud and favoured creature, from which those lower animals are nearly, or quite, exempt. Guided for the most part by those heaven-directed, though in themselves blind, propensities, which we call instincts, to the performance of all things which the simple economy of their lives demands, they know not what it is to be tormented by conflicting passions, or distracted amid the doubts and fallacies of bewildered reason. Too limited in sentiment and forethought for moral responsibility, they are unacquainted with the depression of shame, the stings of remorse, and the terrors of guilt. But among other enviable distinctions of the lower tribes, as compared with man, none is more striking, none more deserving our observation, than that general equality of rank and condition which is found in their communities, and which contrasts so strongly with CONTRAST BETWEEN MAN AND LOWEK ANIMALS. ,31 those great and offensive diversities, in these respects, ■which prevail in human society. Behold the herds of grazing cattle, the flocks of birds, the shoals of fish, the swarms of insects ! How uniform is their lot I There is here no distinction of rich and poor, noble and plebeian, lord and slave. One is not undergoing the pangs of starvation, while his neighbour is surfeited on a redundant store. One is not exalted in supercilious pride and splendour, attended and wor- shipped, while others, not less worthy, appear in sordid wretchedness, scorned, forsaken, and oppressed. We do not see one sitting in ease and indolence, while others minister to his luxury, by toils of whose fruits they are themselves allowed but scantily to partake. Nor do we perceive among them anything like sdect companies, or superior dosses, which appear to shun the society of their fellows, as if it were a contamination and disgrace to them. In short, as if to humble human pride, it must be confessed, that though the race of man, as a whole, occupies here below the place of power and dignity, yet is a large proportion of its individnwi members found in a state of greater misery and degradation, than can be seen in any other tribe of creatures existing on the earth. In this contrast between the condition of mankind and that of the other animals, there is assuredly something very remarkable, and it concerns us to inquire into its causes. Is it to be regarded as a necessary consequence of the constitution of human nature, or rather as a morbid and perverted state of society, — not necessary, but controllable, like other moral evils, by a suitable exertion of our voluntary powers ; and which, therefore, a greater diffusion of wisdom and virtue might, in good Pleasure, remedy ? In other words, to use the phrase of S2 THE EXISTING DISTINCTlOS OP SOCIAL BANES. Epiktehtos, does it belong to ra t gift of nature to all men, must be much more simple, absolute, and universal, than can exist with respect to such property as is the produc- tion of human labour. To the latter, particular men may often very justly prefer private claims, on various special grounds : — as when it happens to be the product of their own labour, or has been given to them by others of whose labour it was the product. But to the former, not particular men, but all men, as children of nature, as creatures of God, have a claim as universal as their birth, as sacred as their right to live. It is to this claim, that I have now, in the first place, to request attention. Self-preservation is the primary instinct of every living creature, and essential to the continuance of its existence. This instinct is unfolded from the moment when the new- born youngling first fumbles its way to the little fountain provided for its sustenance in its mother's breast, till that itt which feeble age lifts, with trembling hand, the last morsel which nature will avail to convert to nourish- ment ; or hobbles, with tottering steps, from approaching danger, seeking vainly to prolong a life no longer desir- able. In the intervening space, this principle has deve- loped itself in all the active and suffering forms of energy : — in chase and flight, in labour and repose, in enterprise and endurance, in aggression and self-defence. No higher law is given, or can be imagined, for every creature ; — in the reflecting being, no clearer duty ; — ^than to conserve that life which is the one splendid endow- ment bestowed on it by its Creator. Now this instinct of self-preservation prompts, of ne- cessity, every animal to the use of the earth. Every 128 DISTRIBUTION OP JPEOPEKTT. living thing that is bom and breathes, without loss of time exerts its faculties, and receiving, through its senses, notice of surrounding provisions suitable to its wants, ^forthwith proceeds, unblamed and unhindered, to convert them to its use. In other words, it feeds itself freely on the spontaneous produce of that earth which is the mother of all. It may at times, indeed, in this attempt, encounter some other animal engaged in the same pursuit, and about to crop the same morsel. Here its power of feeding will receive a check from the interference of a competitor : but this limit is reached, only when both meet in tlie point of actual use. Nothing like antece- dent appropriation of the ground, or engrossment of the whole by a few to the exclusion of the rest, has any place. Indeed, the generosity and fairness, so to speak, commonly shown by gregarious animals when feeding, is a thing very beautiful to behold. And hence we see, that the children of men also, among the rest, when they are so grown as to look around them and consider their state, and perceive that it no longer becomes them to depend on parental care, but now, in their turn, to provide for themselves, and such as may be of them ; — we see, I say, that the children of men may very naturally reflect, that the^ also have a right to live/ and if a right to live, then a right to a fair and equable use, along with others, of the natural and necessary meams of life. And they may further consider, that these means are to be found neither in the sun, nor moon, nor stars, nor very readily in the air or in the waters ; but verily in the earth mainly, and in that which, cultured or un- cultured, it brings forth. It is thereon that a man must stand, and walk, and dwell : and thence that he must gather his daily bread. To use the earth for these purposes is the first neces- COMMON RIGHT OF PEOPEETT. 129 sity, and therefore the first law, of his being ; Ms first right and first duty. And if, therefore, when he is come to manhood, and about so to act, he should meet with any who tell him, in efiect : — " Son of man, there is no place here for thee. This land where thou wast bom, and all other lands around, are already fully occupied, and every acre is in possession of one or other of thy brethren, some having larger portions and others less ; and thou hast no part nor lot in the matter. The best that thou canst do is to go to some of them, and endeavour, on terms of service, to induce them to spare thee some pittance, that thou mayst not starve :" — in such a case, this man may be supposed to reply ; — " This plea of prior occupation is allowable only in the absence of a better, and not against a superior claim, such, as mine is. You, my brethren, who have made these arrangements, deem them, no doubt, very convenient and advantageous to yourselves ; but I, who have been no party to the making of them, and who find myself de- spoiled by them of my birthright, certainly hold myself under no obligation to respect them : — or, at least, no farther than prudence may dictate to me submission to superior power ; — which is simply a deference to the right of the strongest ; — or a virtuous forbearance may restrain me from violating social order. But the instinct of my breast, and the dictate of my conscience, prompt me to claim my own, and by all fair means to repossess myself of my inheritance.'' And I own that to me, the man who speaks thus would appear, in the main, to have reason on his side. I can- not see that he errs in claiming the primitive right to enjoy, either actually or virtually, in fair proportion with his brethren, the use and benefit of the common earth. And if this claim is just, it then evidently follows that it K 130 DISTRIBUTION OF PKOPKRTT. oiight to be the aim of our social arrangements fairly to meet and satisfy it ; either by allowing every man to occupy for his maintenance a reasonable portion of the land itself, or in lieu thereof, by allowing him to partake fairly in the benefit of that revenue, or rental, which is derived from it. Will any man seriously deny this right 1 Then let him do so, and seek for arguments. Let him refer, if he will, to feudal tenures of old, or to statute laws more recent ; — let him hunt in mouldy parchments, if he be a lawyer ; or if he be a statesman or an economist, let him discourse on the benefits of civilization, on the rights of property, on the social compact, and powers of a majority j or let him urge the political importance of a landed aristocracy ; or the economical advantage of concentrated capitals, and of that sharp stimulus to the industry of the masses, which arises from their having just nothing to depend on but what they work for. Certainly there is no stint of arguments like these, by which the existing system may be defended. But were they ten times as numerous and as plausible as they are, could they for a moment stand in the balance against the one simple consideration already urged, — that all men bom have a common and equal right to live, — and if so, a common and equal right to the natural means of life, — ^and if so, then a common and equal right to the use of that earth from which alone those means can come? For Shylock says truly, — " Ye take my life. When ye do take the means by which I live." Society has no more right to deprive a man of the natural and necessary means of life, than it has to deprive him of life itself And if the arrangements of our boasted civili- zation should have this efiect, we must not wonder if that STATE OF NATURK 131 man, driven to an unhappy extremity, shall fall back in his heart on the law of nature, and spurning all social compacts, which, in relation to himself will appear to him little better than legalized spoliation, shall even attempt to do himself justice by such lawless means as wUl win for him, among orderly citizens, the title of a thief, a robber, or a bandit. Do I say that this man would, religiously or morally, be justified in adopting such a mode of redress 1 Far be it : — he would not be so ; because it is always our duty to bear injuries with patience, rather than to seek redress by unlawful means, — which he assuredly does, who not only commits a breach of public law and order, but seeks to avenge the injuries which he conceives himself to have received from the ruling powers, by inflicting still greater injuries on his unofiending fellow-subjects. This, how- ever, may truly be said, that unjust laws make bad citizens j and that the community by whose arrange- ments such wrong is inflicted, is in a very unfitting position either to complain or to punish. But to the whole of the foregoing argument an objection is often taken, which to many appears quite conclusive. In a state of nature, it is said, undoubtedly all men do possess that common right to a share in the land which has been advocated j but in entering into civil society, the natural rights of individuals are surrendered, and made subordinate to the general good of the community ; in existing circumstances, therefore, it is only with this latter consideration that we have to do. Now, what precisely is intended, or ought to be under- stood, by a state of nature, it might not be easy to deter- mine, nor is it necessary here to inquire. But it is certain that the doctrine, that in entering into civil society men surrender their natural rights, is as false as it is k2 132 DISTRIBUTION OP PROPEHTT. pernicious. Nothing can be surrendered but in a volun- tary transaction ; but this entering into society cannot, except by a quibbling fiction, be regarded as a voluntary transaction at all : and to infer from this fiction a sur- render of men's natural rights is an iniquitous fraud. Ought we not rather to say, that the -protection of men's natural rights is the very end for which civil society is institiUed, and that this end defines its rightful powers ? The relation of the community to the individual is simply that of many to one, — ^they have power on their side. But if they use that power farther than to enforce what, according to natural right and justice, ought to be en- forced, they become oppressors. To say otherwise is, in effect, to revive the base doctrines of Machiavel and Hobbes, — that moral right has no other criterion but con- ventional law and political expediency. Dark, indeed, is his mind, and untaught in the first elements of divine truth, who does not distinguish between the arbitrary and variable enactments of human laws, and the eternal prin- ciples of justice which spring from the constitution of the universe, and are as constant as the natures of God and man. We read in holy writ, of " a throne of iniquity, which deviseth mischief by a law." So far, indeed, from certain is the connexion between the legality of a thing and its moral rectitude, that in many cases the one affords even an indifferent presumption of the other. Assuredly, then, civil society is not founded on the abolition or siirrender of natural rights, but on the con- trary, exists for their protection. What truly belongs to the civil ruler is first to ascertain these rights, by a due consideration of all the circumstances and mutual re- lations of the several classes of the community ; and this done, to define, declare, and maintain them, by such regu- lations as shall, at the same time, be most conducive to the common weal. agak's pktition. 133 If, indeed, it were the fact, that in this matter the claims of private right and public utility were at variance, it would become a serious question how far, and in what manner, either of these objects ought to be sacrificed to the other. But happily we are placed in no such dilemma ; for it may clearly be shown, that the eay)e- diency of a general diffusion of property is no less certmn than its justice. In holy writ we read this beautiful and significant petition : — " €H/ve me neither poverty nor riches ; feed me with food corwenient for me." With the reader's permission, it shall serve me, for a little while, as a text. It indicates, — what many may not very readily believe, — • that the poverty which the world dreads, and the wealth which it covets, are both alike to be regarded as evils ; and that the modest competence which simply ensures a supply of our natural wants, will be the bound of a wise man's desire. And the bearing of this truth on the question which we have in hand is obvious. For if poverty and riches be alike evUs, and competence the real blessing, — then it follows, that such an equable distribution of property as tends to supersede both poverty and riches, and to diffuse competence through the community, must needs be a good thing. That poverty, indeed, is an evU of the very first mag- nitude, the modem world at least are pretty well agreed But as there possibly may stiU be extant a few saints or philosophers disposed to question this, we may remark, that, although Heaven, which appoints our lots, is assuredly able to make all manner of outward evils, and this among the rest, a salutary discipline to the soul ; it nevertheless accords with experience, that in the ordinary tenor of human affairs, the effects of poverty, both on the sufferers themselves and on society at large, are anything but happy. It is hardly necessary to remark, that by poverty, 134 DISTRIBUTION OF PROPERTY. properly so called, is to be understood an inability to obtain those things which are necessary to support life in health and comfort. That it imports all manner of phy- sical hardship and suffering is obvious enough, and too well known. Ill-fed, over-toiled, chilled with cold, neg- lected in sickness, the bodies of the poor plainly fare but hardly. A preternatural mortality carries off a large portion of their children in infancy ; of those that survive, an undue proportion are more or less deformed, scrofulous, or imbecile ; presenting altogether, but especially in the cranial development, a low and defective type of human organism. And in later life, how many do we behold, on whose once vigorous frames hardship and toil have imprest prematurely the wrinkles and infirmities of age ! But the mind also suffers. Not only do the poor undergd an unusual measure of trouble and distress, but it is not less certain, that their circumstances very com- monly exert a deleterious influence on their understand- ings and morals. The necessity of unremitting toil pre- cludes all attention to mental cultivation, the consequences of which are, too commonly, gross ignorance and even stupidity. The habitual endurance of hardship and want is apt to blunt the finer and gentler feelings, and to produce a harsh and morose behaviour, especially de- structive to the happiness of domestic life ; hence one of our poets says truly, — " "Where poverty is felt, The sweet colloquial pleasures are but few." Moreover, when men perceive that their lot is already so bad, that, come what will, it can hardly be worse, it is apt to produce in them a sort of recklessness, and indifference to character ; while the contrast between their own con- dition and that of their more fortunate neighbours, begets in their minds a sentiment of grudge and envy towards EVILS OP EICHES. 135 the rest of society, disposing them to deeds both of dis- honesty and violence. Thus the children of poverty are ever on the verge of the still lower abyss of criminality, or at least of an abject and lying mendicancy, which is near akin to it, and not much better. In short, though poverty be a trial under which, when sent by Heaven, superior virtue may be refined and strengthened, and shine the brighter, yet is it one by which ordinary hu- manity seems rather to be oppressed and debased, its happiness blighted, its honour obscured ; and which, therefore, since none of the members of society would willingly choose it for themselves, so neither ought they, by their civil arrangements, to impose on others. But Agar's petition deprecates riches as well as poverty, and the holy Founder of Christianity utters a warning still more solemn : — How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven ! Yet of the doctrine, that wealth is not desirable, how few are practically believers ! In a general view, we may say, that the rich man is in the position of one who is in possession of more than, in real justice, belongs to him ; and that he is therefore morally bound, either at once to hand over to others this portion in the principal, or at least to be careful to employ the income as a trust, which he holds for the benefit of others, and not for his own indulgence. But how few are so enlightened and faithful as to do this ! And yet, if the rich man fail to do this, his wealth will inevitably ensnare and corrupt 'him. What is wealth 1 It is, in effect, the power of disposing of the labour of a great number of other men in such manner as we please. How awful a trust ! How serious a responsibility ! How arduous a duty — ^is here implied ! Yet it is evident that, in the great majority of cases, this power is viewed in no 136 DISTRIBUTION OF PBOPEETT. other light than as a means of self-gratification ; and too commonly it gives occasion to the indulgence of various foolish and even vicious propensities, — of indolence, sen- ~ suality, luxiiry, pride, ambition, — or is even abused to the corruption or oppression of other men. Doubtless there are many and admirable exceptions to this statement ; and every neighbourhood offers examples of them : still I believe that in a general view it simply expresses the truth. It is, indeed, of the nature of things that it should be so. The trial is greater than common humanity can bear. It is a very difficult thing, even for a man of the most virtuous intentions, either to make a good and blameless use of wealth, or to escape its corrupting in- fluence on his heart. It is not so much, therefore, the man that is to be blamed, as the unhappiness of his position. The rich man is insensibly drawn to trust in his riches ; and in so doing he abandons, in his heart, his reliance on God. Hence a secret impiety and practical atheism are apt to grow within him. Living in ease and abundance, and accustomed to obsequious deference and lowly service from those around him, he is led into a false view of human life, and of his own relation to society. He comes to regard his own pleasure as his great concern ; and entertaining a high sense of his own im- portance, with a somewhat contemptuous estimate of what he calls the common people, — with whose feelings, trials, and virtues he has commonly a very imperfect acquain- tance, — his behaviour towards his inferiors in fortune is marked with a want of kindly sympathy, even if it be not harsh, arrogant, and overbearing. And now let us inquire, what is the influence of wealth on the rich man's own happiness? It is a common say- ing, that human happiness consists mainly in three things : CONDITIONS OF HAPPINESS. 137 — health., peace, and competence. And this is at least as much as to say, that wealth can do little to promote hap- piness ; for to neither of these conditions of it is wealth necessary. But it is further evident, both from reason and experience, that to two of these conditions, namely, health of body and peace of mind, wealth is positively unfavourable. The great maintainers of health are a fair share of energetic daily exercise, something of that labour which brings sweat on the brow, — abundance of fresh open air, plain diet, early hours, and in general, regular, tem- perate, and tranquil habits. Now it is evident that the ordinary life of the rich goes very much to reverse all this, and therefore can hardly be favourable to health. As regards peace of mind, or mental happiness, perhaps nothing better on that subject has been written in our language, than the chapter on Human Happiness in Paley's Moral Philosophy. After showing that happiness does not consist either in the pleasures of sense, or in ex- emption from pain, labour, and other outward evils, or lastly, in greatness, rank, or elevated station, the author proceeds to state in what, according to his judgment, it does consist. He mentions, in the first place, tlie exercise of the social and benevolent affections. These are as- suredly confined to no particular rank or condition of life. But there are several reasons which, I think, would, on due reflection, lead to the belief that great wealth is not propitious to the happiness which springs from this source. The circumstances of the rich dispose them to pride and self-indulgence, and raise them, as it were, above the sphere of lively sympathy with the great majority of their fellow-men. But even within their own families, we may commonly observe that among the rich and great, the flow of natural afiection appears to be checked by the 138 DISTRIBUTION OF PROPERTY. stateliness and ceremony maintained in their manners. In the important affair of marriage, we everywhere see this class making much less account of their children's affections, than of family pride and aggrandizement. I fancy, too, that in the very circumstance that a father has reared and maintained his children by his own exer- tions, there is a strongly binding tie of mutual affection between him and them, which the families of the wealthy can seldom know. The thought of this must yield to many an industrious man in humble life a happiness which no wealth could purchase. The second condition of happiness which our author mentions, is the steady exercise of our faculties in some engaginff pursuit. On those who are not rich, this condi- tion is generally imposed, somewhat imperiously, but with good effect, by the pressure of necessity, in the form of that labour, or business, by which they live. But the wealthy, in the absence of such necessity, are often left a prey to indolence, listlessness, and ennui. From these, some fly to sensual pleasure and dissipation ; but these resources are soon exhausted, and are succeeded by satiety, restlessness, and depression. Others seek relief in violent excitement, the struggles of ambition, war, the turf, the gaming-table, and the like ; but all these are foes to peace, and not seldom the forerunnei-s of ruin and misery. Lastly, Paley observes, " Our happiness depends on a prudent constitution of the hahits. The art in which the secret of human happiness consists, is to set the habits in such a manner that every change shall be a change for the better." " The luxurious," he says, " receive no greater pleasure from their dainties than the peasant does from his bread and cheese : but the peasant, when- ever he goes abroad, finds a feast j whereas the epicure CONDITIONS OP HAPPINESS. 139 must be well entertained to escape disgust." It were needless to point out how much this consideration tells against the wisdom of that luxurious and self-indulgent life which the rich habitually live. In the common phrase, they have " the best of everything :'' it follows, that to them almost every change must be for the worse. They are at the top of fortune's wheel; — how much reason have they to dread its turn ! But why should I multiply arguments on a point re- specting which the wise are so well agreed 1 One senti- ment is echoed by poets, moralists^ and divines ; — ^that riches and happiness are notf Mends. " Be full ye courts, be great wlio will : Search for peace with all your skill : Open wide the lofty door, Seek her on the marbled floor : In vain, ye search, she is not there : In vain ye search the domes of care." The royal ecclesiast, after the fullest experience of all the pleasures which wealth can procure, arrives at this conclusion : — " All is vanity and vexation- of spirit. When riches increase, they are increased that eat them : and what good is there to the owners thereof, save the beholding of them with their eyes 1 " And there remains one serious reflection, which must not be omitted. The condition of the wealthy is too little in harmony with the equity of Divine Providence toi be favourable to religious peace. They are not unreasonably haunted by the apprehension, that they may have received their good things in this life, and may have much to lose by a change. Hence, " There is a deep And secret conscience, vext by strange alarms, Heedless of place and' time." 140 DISTRIBUTION OF PEOPEKTr. Their feeling is often suoh as is exprest by Cicero : — " Quae euim potest in vita esse jucunditas, cum noctes atquedies cogitandum sit, jamque, jamque, esse moriendum !" And when, as too often happens, wealth has been abused to self-indulgence and worldliness, the prospect is yet gloomier. " How dreadful must thy summons be, O Death, To him that is at ease in his possessions ; Who, dreaming of long years of pleasure here. Is quite unfumish'd for thatworld to come ! " Although, therefore, riches and happiness be commonly deemed almost identical, I think we may venture to assume, that an opposite view of their relations to each other is much nearer the truth. How erring is the opinion of the crowd ! Perhaps there is not a greater mistake in the world than to com- mend the lot of those who live, as it is called, on their fortune : and perhaps there is hardly a greater misfortune than to be born to such a lot ! So much then for the influence of riches on private happiness : let us now glance for a moment at their effects on the public and the State. We shall see that in several obvious particulars, great private wealth is a public evil. And in the first place, riches, paradox as it may seem, are a principal cause of poverty. The rise of the sea-tide in one part is not more surely attended by its ebb in another, than the amassing of wealth by a few must entail the impove- rishment -of the many. The truth of this assertion will perhaps appear more evident, if it be considered that the masses of -property exist chiefly in the form either of land or of credit. The former being a given and limited quantity, that one man cannot take to himself a great share of it, without proportionally diminishing the shares of others, is plain enough. Nor in regard to the latter, — EVILS OP BICHES TO THE STATE. 141 since every credit must needs be also a debt, either private or national, — ^is it less evident, that the wealth of the creditor is just so much poverty in the debtor. In short, the rich man everywhere, in virtue of his riches, holds the subsistence of a number of his fellow-citizens in his hands, and can exact from them their labour as the price of it, and they must needs submit. Not amiss, therefore, Mr. Bright said, in one of his late speeches, " that the industrial population have to carry the aristo- cracy on their backs." And in general, we may say, that of all those great evils noticed in the former chapters, as arising from the unbrotherly distinction of social ranks, from the unjust imposition of labour, and from luxury, the excessive accumulation of wealth is the principal cause. Again, who can calculate the mischief which the undue accumulation of private wealth inflicts on a State, in the way of political corruption? Wealth perverts the ad- ministration of justice ; because, even where the judges are pure, it can defeat and ruin poverty, through the influence of venal advocacy and the costly processes of law. Wealth can frustrate the freest constitution, through its power of procuring, by means more or less assignable, but always efiectual, the votes which will instal it in high places. And wealth, th\is becoming legislator, will na,- turally legislate for itself, and for its class. The Govern- ment thus becomes a ploutocracy ; and the ploutocracy will take care to fence all the high and honourable paths and posts of life, with such barriers and qualifications, that poor men shall not over easily intrude into them, or incommode the privileged order by their competition. Especially these ploutocrats will not fail to order the law cunningly, for conserving and perpetuating that en- grossment of property by the few, on which the whole system is founded. 142 DISTKIBUTION OF PROPERTY. Howbeit, under this class legislation will the State be •well 1 Nay, verily : after a while it becomes mortally ill : — as the prophet said, " The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint." When every man looks to his gain from his quarter, and the poor are as desirous to sell their votes as the rich to buy them : when money or rank, not merit, is the road to promotion, and the cold shade of the aristocracy chiUs the hopes and aspirations of all who live beneath it : when the interests of the few prevail every- where over those of the many, and the people become dis- affected toward a state in which they find themselves without honour, and without protection : when truth fails and is derided, and faction and party alone are heard : when luxury, propagated through all ranks, has enervated both physical vigour and manly virtue : — then we may say, with Goldsmith — " III fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay." Its glory is departed, its strength is gone, its desolation draweth nigh. " There is the moral of all human tales I ' 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past. First freedom, and then glory ; — when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption : — despotism at last ! " Such then being the evils attending both poverty and riches, the wisdom of the remaining clause of Agar's petition becomes manifest : — " Feed me with food con- venient for me." It is equivalent to one which Christians have learnt from still higher authority : — " Give us this day our daily bread." We are thus taught to regard as the most desirable condition of human life, that which just furnishes the means of providing for the real wants of nature, — that is, of what is necessary for health and comfort, — by industry, indeed, but without excessive toil or' anxious care. It is this state which we properly call ACTUAL STATE OP SOCIETY. 143 competence. And to sucli a condition what can riches add ? — what but care, temptation, and disquiet ? Here is the man who is of all most likely to maintain " a sound mind in a sownd body ;" — who enjoys health, relishes his food, is busy and cheerful as the day is long ; free from envy, and free from care ; — who is not proud, yet carries about with him a sense of seK-respect and of the truest independence, having the happiness of reflecting that his measure of good, whatever it be, is not derived from an unjust engrossment of the shares of others, or the un- merited services which he is thereby enabled to obtain from them ; but, under the Divine blessing, from his own exertions, in improving his proper portion, and earning honestly his own bread. And not to be tedious, I think that I may now assume, that this golden mean between riches and poverty, — this competence, which suffices industry for health and com- fort, — is really the most desirable lot for the sons of men. And if this be so, it will follow, that a general and somewhat equable diffusion of property is a policy not less commended by its utility, than it is by its agree- ment with the principles of justice : so that here, as in all other cases, though possibly we may not dare to assert, that " whatever is expedient is right," we still find that whatever is right is also expedient. For, in effect, it is such an economy that will just secure to the citizens at large, if they be industrious and well conducted, the com- petency required. But now, if we turn to consider the actual state of society, and the a/rrangements of property which prevail in the greater part of civilized nations, and in our own country in particular, we shall perceive both a striking contrast with that equitable system which we have been contemplating, and likewise such effects resulting from it as were reasonably to be expected. 144 DISTRIBUTION OP PROPERTY. In effect, the Ipng-establisted policy has tended to the engi-ossment of property in general, and especially of that in land, by great proprietoirs, to the exclusion of the body of the people. This policy had its principal source in the feudal tenures. The essence of that system, founded in conquest, lay in the partition of the land amo^ig the victorious chiefs and their followers, on condition of military service. The conquered inhabitants were retained as bondsmen, to cultivate for their new masters the soil which was once their own : — to hew wood, and draw water, and perform all other laborious and mechanical services, while their lords devoted themselves to what they deemed the noble art of war. And thus was founded what has been called a territorial aristocracy. The doughty knights and barons everywhere built their castles, and laid out their parks and chases, and between fighting and feasting, sports and lady-love, lived in them "right jollily." In the reign of Henry III. it is stated by Hume, that there were in England more than 1100 of these private fortresses. The unfortunate peasantry, meanwhile, became serfs, adscripti glebce, bound to the soil, and passing with it as live stock, under the appropriate name of viUeins. The feudal tenures, as Blackstone informs us, were not at first hereditary, nor when they afterwards virtually be- came so, was the descent originally determined on the prin- ciple of primogeniture ; but the estates were often divided among all the sons of the deceased holder. The principle of primogeniture was, however, really involved in feudalism, and in due time was fully unfolded. For whereas the feuds were generally granted on condition of knight-ser- vice, that is, of attending the superior lord in his wars, with arms, horse, and esquire ; it was soon observed that through the practice of subdivision of the paternal do- XJNFRIENDLINESS OP OUK LAWS TOWARD POTEETT. 145 mains among the sons, the holders were often becoming incapable, through poverty, of fulfilling the conditions of the grant Hence it was found, in general, more con- venient to limit the inheritance to some one son, com- monly the eldest : the pride of families favoured the same method : and thus at length was established among us the exclusive right of the first-born, the law of inheritance by primogeniture, the destined foimtain of so much evil. Along with their wealth, these privileged first-bom have also, as was to be expected, been the great engrossers of political power. This may help to explain that re- markable leaning toward concentration of property, es- pecially of that in land, which is the evident tendency of our laws. One might even suppose that the possession of land by the middle and lower classes was a thing against which it had been expressly intended to provide. Such at least has been the effect, not merely of the law of primogeniture, and the system of entails, but of the intricacies of title, the difficulties of proof, the hazards of litigation, the expenses of conveyance, and indeed of every legal process by which a right to landed property can either be acquired or defended : the result of which altogether is, not merely greatly to impede the acquisition of land by our industrial classes, but to make it appear to them hazardous and inexpedient even to attempt it. But this unfriendly bearing of our laws toward the poor is seen not only in relation to property in land, but likewise, though in a less degree, to property in general. It is a system so constituted throughout as to favour and cherish wealth, and to lay an oppressive and withering hand on poverty. Under it we may truly say with the Latin poet : " Haud facile emergant quorum virtutibus obstat BeB ajigusta domi." I. 146 DISTRIBUTION OF PROPEKTT. And if in any case, through industry or good fortune, a -working man should happen to have acquired some little property, still the chances are that he will not long be able to keep it. The reader may smUe, but I cannot but fancy the law itself, as surrounding him like an enormous, all-embracing web, inhabited by darksome spiders in obscure recesses ; and that he is like the poor unconscious fly, buzzing heedlessly about, and ever ready to be entangled in the snare, when all that he is worth wUl speedily be sucked out of him. The law extends no paternal protection over his ignorance and simplicity, but leaves him a helpless prey to those who watch to employ its crushing power, or its vile chicanery, for his ruin. A wealthy and quarrelsome neighbour unjustly breaks his fence or impounds his cattle. His wisest course, doubt- less, were quietly to submit to the injury j but this his spirit cannot brook : he seeks legal redress, his advisers foment the strife, he litigates ; and whether he gain or lose his cause, still is ruined. A small legacy, perchance, is left him, but there is some peg on which an adverse claimant can hang a quibble ; there is a suit, and the suit eats up not only the legacy, but his little all besides. " Pol, me occidistis amici !" he might exclaim, bewailing the fatal kindness which remembered him in the will. With the savings of many years' faithful service, a man often opens a little shop : but new to business, he gives credit too easily ; parties do not pay ; he sues for his debts, and between his losses and expenses, is soon in the Gazette. For some trifling cause, a domestic squabble perhaps, in which he may not have been the party most to blame, a man is called on by a hasty magistrate to find securities, in what to him is a large sum. Being unable to do so, he goes to prison. STATISTICS OP OUE LANDED PROPERTY. 147 and his name and prospects are blighted for life. Or perhaps, from the worthiest motive, though in weakness, a man allows himself to be bound for some friend : the friend proves a scoundrel, and in this case also he is ruined. To make some profit of a small capital, a man takes a few shares in a joint stock ; fortune proves adverse, and the adventure fails. The hard policy of our law holds him answerable, not merely in proportion to his own share in the concern, but for the whole liabilities of the company ; and thus again he is rvdned. Such examples might easily be multiplied ; but enough perhaps has been suggested, to illustrate the manner in which our existing system discourages the efforts of the industrious poor to emerge from their deprest condition. Surely there is great wrong, when the law, which ought to be the impartial protector of all, thus continues to depress those whom its own arrangements have akeady made most needy and helpless. Whether it has really been the policy of our laws thus to accumulate wealth, and especially the possession of land, in the hands of a few, or only their unintentional, and, as it were, instinctive tendency, I will not undertake to decide : certain however it is, that this result has been attained very effectually. I am not aware of any statistical returns from which the number of landed proprietors in this country can be stated with accuracy. The nearest approach to it, as far as I know, is that afforded by the return oifarm Iwldings, which in the census of 1851 amounts, for Great Britain, to 285,836. As there can be no doubt that in this country the occupiers of land are considerably more nu- merous than the owners, it will follow that the number of the latter must fall considerably below that given above, yet how fex I dare not even conjecture : I think, l2 148 DISTRIBUTION OF PROPEETY. howeyer, we may confidently assuine that it does not exceed 200,000. It has heen stated, though I know- not on what grounds, as low as 32,000; It must, however, be observed, that these numbers relate only to the owners of agricuMuraZ property, not to those of mere houses. But taking the number at the highest, what a fact is here ! In this great and wealthy island of Britain, the annual value of whose real property, as assessed to the income-tax, is above one hundred and five mUlions sterling, and whose population exceeds twenty., one million souls, only some two hundred thousand pos- sessors of land ! What a contrast with France, where they amount to five millions ! It is evident from these statements, that the vast ma- jority of the British people is whoUy destitute of landed, or fixt, property. But as regards the great bulk of our working classes, not only have they no share in the land, but no property of any kind, except a few moveables for present use ; labouring daily for daily bread, living, as the phrase is, from hand to mouth, with nothing in store for the morrow, for sickness, age, or any other mLsfor- tune, save such small provision for these contingencies as a prudent few may have made by means of savings banks or friendly societies. In fact, if we briefly glance at the actual condition of our peasants and artisans, we shall see that for the most part they sufier largely the characteristic evils of poverty. Consider, first, how hard and unceasing is that toil by which they maintain themselves : — every day's labour just furnishing every day's life, and no more. In some countries they keep many saints' days : but here, save the Sabbath, scarce a week of holidays can be snatcht from labour in the course of the year. And yet there are some among us who seem to grudge this weekly day of rest, CONDITION OF OHE WORKING CLASSES. 149 and speak of it as so much time lost to industry j nay, there are working men too among us, so suicidally sordid, 80 feilse to the common cause of the toiling world, as, for a little extra gain, to be induced to labour on that day. For themselves, such men richly deserve the fate which their conduct tends to bring on all their brethren j — that of working seven days for no greater amount of wages than they formerly gained in six. I say nothing here of the Divine obligation of the Sabbath : — that is a point for private judgment. It may not be — in my own opinion, it is not, — a positive ordinance of Christianity, though the selection of the first day of the week for public worship was certainly an apostolically sanctioned usage of the Christian churcL But quite apart from that considera- tion, the Sabbath is with us a civil institution, resting from of old on the authority of our laws and usages, which, in wise imitation of the Jewish, have endeavoured thus to secure to the labouring multitude a respite from toil, and an opportunity for religious duties, mental im- provement, and needful recreation. Even republican France, in her frenzy of atheism, instituted a dekadal sabbath. A foul enemy to his country and to his kind is he who, by word or deed, seeks to undermine the ob- servance of this hallowed and merciful day ! A hard-working people ought at least to he well fed. It seems sufficiently evident that in the colder climates, some proportion of animal food is commonly required to maintain a healthy vigour of body. Yet it is a notorious fact, that in general, our labouring classes partake of such diet very scantily. It is not all of them that can even afford to flavour their dinner with a slice of bacon, or a bit of fish. It is only in England, and not in all parts of that, that the peasantry, in general, consume wheaten bread. In Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, the working people are 150 DISTKIBUnON OP PROPERTY. chiefly fed on barley, oats, and potatoes. Dairy produce is too dear to be enjoyed witli freedom anywhere ; and even in the country, the labourer often cannot pur- chase for his children the skimmed or scalded milk which is thrown to the farmer's pigs. The dwellings of our poor are not less defective than their food. They are generally small, dark, comfortless abodes ; in the country often with the ground for the floor, and more like hovels than houses : — in our towns, crowded together in back courts and alleys, close, ill- drained, and noisome. Those which afford a couple of sleeping-rooms are among the best : in a large proportion, a single close and dirty chamber receives at night the whole family : — not seldom one and the same room serves them both for night and day. Clothing is, doubtless, in great measure an artificial and conventional want ; and in general, to those who are used to it, the lightest dress may probably be the most wholesome. But certainly it befits the state of man, that whatever of raiment he does wear shall be sound, clean, and becoming ; and for him who bears the image of his Maker, and was by him ordained the lord of this creation, to walk abroad in sordid rags, amid so many animals all graceful and comely, according to the fashion which God has given them, is surely an unworthy disfigurement. Yet such is, for the most part, the humiliating condition of our working classes ; and probably no one circumstance contributes more than this to their social degradation. Of this, indeed, they are so sensible, as often to be de- terred by it even fi-om attending public worship. A striking evidence of the destitution actually prevail- ing among our poorer classes is to be found in the extent of their pauperism. By the latest returns it appears that about six. million pounds annually are now expended. CONDITION OP OUR WORKING CLASSES. 151 in England and Wales, in relief under the Poor Law : — that in the winter, nearly one million persons are in receipt of relief at one time, and that nearly two million, or one-eighth part of our whole population, receive relief in the course of the year. But these figures, formidable as they are, give but an inadequate idea of the real extent of the evil. In fact, it is but truth to say, that almost our whole lahov/riing population are, either actually or vii-tually, paupers. It is, in general, a matter of course, that they wUl seek to become so, as soon as any of those ordinary contingencies of life, loss of work, sick- ness, age, death, or even natural childbed, shall occur in their families. So widely has this degrading and dis- gusting social pestilence spread among us ! It is painful to observe the impression, which the spectacle of the want and misery prevailing in this country makes upon foreigners. " The condition of the lower classes in England at the present moment," says the late eminent and excellent Dr. Channing, of Boston, " is a mournful comment on her institutions and civiliza- tion. The multitude are deprest, in that country, to a degree of ignorance, want, and misery which must touch every heart not made of stone. In the civilized world there are few sadder spectacles than the present contrast in Great Britain, of unbounded wealth and luxury, with the starvation of thousands, crowded into cellars and dens, without ventilation or light, compared with which the wigwam of the Indian is a palace. It is a striking fact," he adds, " that the private charity of England, though almost incredible, makes little impression on this mass of misery ; thus teaching the rich and titled, ' to be just before they are generous j' and not to look to private mu- nificence as a remedy for the evils of selfish institutions."* * " Duty of Free States." 152 DISTRIBUTION OP PKOPEETY. How different are the accounts which we receive of many other nations! As one example among many, take that of Saxony, as described by Mr. Joseph Kay. " In Saxony," he says, " which I have visited, and carefully inspected twice, there is very little pauperism ; the people are well and comfortably clad ; ragged, or badly-patched clothes are seldom, I might truly say, never seen ; beggars are hardly ever met with ; the houses of the peasantry are remarkably roomy, convenient, substantially built, constantly whitewashed, and orderly in appearance ; the children are always clean, well-dressed, and polite in their manners ; there is little or no difference between the appearance of the children of the. poor and of the rich ; the land is perhaps better cultivated than in any other part of Europe, and the general condition of the peasantry more prosperous than that of almost any other I have seen."* K the poverty of our lower classes were the source only of physical hardships, the evil would be of less magnitude, but it is certain that it entails also great injury to their minds and morals. For the most part, they receive but a wretchedly poor education. It is stated that in England and Wales, not more than about one-half of the adult population is able to read and write. Even to the children in our National and other primary schools, the instruction given is for the most part of the most meagre description ; — some knowledge of reading, writing, and arithmetic ; — but with all beyond, — with poetry and music, with history, geography, astronomy, and natural history, a great part of them remain as unacquainted as the natives of Australia^ Thus, from childliood upward, their minds lie fallow and neglected, overrun with super- * Kay's "Social Condition of People,"!, p. 11. LOW STATE OP EDUCATiaN AlTD MOBALS. 153 stition, delusion, and errors of every kind. Not only are they strangers to the refining and humanizing pleasures which flow from mental cultivation, but they are un- ceasingly made the dupes of interested and designing persons, quacks of all pretensions, some of whom prey on their substance and their health, while others inflame them with fanaticism, or incite them to sedition and outrage. And this, alas ! is the condition of the common people of England in the middle of the nineteenth cen- tury, — the people who are being called on more and more largely to wield the perilous powers of the elective fran- chise ! Far be it that I should unjustly dispraise my country- men. I believe that in native good sense, in honesty, humanity, domestic virtues, courage, and general manli- ness of character, they are not naturally inferior to any nation under the "sun. I hold them to be a noble people, and am proud to bear their name. If I venture to cen- sure some things, it is in love. It cannot be denied that there prevails in the manners of our working people a harsh and surly tone, and that we miss in them that gentle courtesy, the sweetest flower of life, which blooms so readily under a happier lot. We observe, everywhere, language foul and profane, habits gross and sensual, and an absence of moral principle which is deplorable. For two loathsome vices, especially, namely, drunkenness and female prostitution, our country has even become infamous among surrounding nations, and a grief and shame to every worthy Englishman, when, after travelling on the Continent, he returns to her shores. But assuredly, all these disgraceful traits in the manners of our people are to be imputed, not to any badness in their disposition, but to the unhappiness of their lot. Where men are sunk in poverty and ignorance, and no higher tastes have been 154 DISTEIBUTION OP PROPERTY. cultivated, subjection to the grosser appetites is a natural consequence. Regard to truth, and integrity, depend much, in aU men, on the sense of honour ; but in a class ■whose feelings of honest pride and self-respect are daily mortified and set at nought, we cannot wonder that this sense is not very nice. That the moral depravation of the lower classes in England is, in fact, very much dependent on their want of mental culture, is strongly indicated by our criminal statistics. From Mr. Porter's valuable work on the Progress of the Nation, we learn that in the thirteen years from 1836 to 1848 inclusive, the whole number of persons committed for trial was 335,429. In every 10,000 of these persons it was ascertained, that under the following heads, as regards instruction, the numbers were as follow : — Males. Females. TotaL Those who neither read nor write at . all, or only imperfectly 7,273 1,813 9,086 Those who can read and write weU . . 786 88 874 Those superiorly instructed 38 2 40 8,097 1,«03 10,000 Now these returns are sufficient to prove, not only that the absence of instruction, in its several degrees, is vastly greater among the criminal class than in the body of society at large, but likewise, that it is much greater than even in the general mass of those poor and labouring classes, from which it cannot be doubted that the great bulk of our criminals is derived : — for ignorant as these classes are, I think no one acquainted with them would believe that ninety per cent; among them are unable to read and write. But among all those baneful efiects of poverty which IMPEOVIDENCE AND RECKLESSNESS. 155 it is our misfortune to behold, there is probably none more deleterious to the community than that improvi- dence which springs from it. By one of those strange reactions which occur when things come to their extremes, that very penury which might be expected to enforce frugality and abstinence, is seen to produce in feet just the opposite effect. When it is found that the utmost industry and prudence do but barely procure the necessa- ries of life, and it is observed that the hardest working man fares, after all, little better than the mendicant, the pauper, and the criminal ; the fatal thought arises in the poor man's breast, that do what he will, his lot can hardly be worse than it already is. " What boots it, then,'' he says in his heart, " to toU, and care for the future % I will seize, as I can, the pleasures of to-day : the morrow shall care for itself" Hence the orgies of the ale-house and the gin-shop, the disregard to character, the neglect of domestic thrift, the extravagance in dress, the impru- dent marriages, the overwhelming families. An habitual recklessness of all distant consequences becomes the habit of the mind. This tendency of poverty to accelerate, through the recklessness which it produces, an excessive population is a point which demands the most serious attention. The natural laws of subsistence and population are now per- fectly familiar to all persons of common sense who have bestowed due reflection on the subject. The means of subsistence evidently admit of increase, more or less rapid in different countries, according to the extent of unoccu- pied lands, the state of agriculture, the resources of commerce, and other circumstances. But then it is to be observed — first, that the more in any country the in- crease has been realized, the more will the rate at which 156 DISTRIBUTION OF PROPERTY. it proceeds, tend to diminish : — and secondly, that to its total, or ultimate, amount, there is unavoidably a limit : ^-that is, there is some assignable bound, -which we may feel certain that it -will never pass. For example, though it may not be supplies of food. That it is so, fis a fact, is undoubted ; but how is this result effected? Behold a question of the highest practical in- terest, which it behoves ©very man and woman well to consider and understand- Malthua has been laughed at, and sneered at, and quib- bled at. He may, no doubt, have misstated, or over-stated, a- point or two, or shown some needless alarms But no matter : — the main truth which he unfolded is as evident and certain as it is vitally important. Population is kept down to th& level of subsistenocj either hy the prudential check, which acting morally, limiis births ; or by the de- structive check, which acting physically, destroys those that are born. From this dilemma there is no escape. Population is, and must be, restrained,, either by provident and virtuous self-control ; or in failure of that, by misery, starvation, disease, war, crimes and death. No choice is given, either to rulers or people, but to avoid the latter of these checks by voluntarily practising the former. Improvident multiplication cannot but tend to involve the State, as a whole, in the same distress and embarrass- ment, which it creates in the private families of which the State is the aggregate. Such are the evils which we witness under a system which favours, or permits, a grossly unequal distribution of property, and by consequence, the prevalence of the extremes of wealth and poverty, among our people. I think I cannot better conclude these remarks than in the words of Mr. Kay. " If," says he, " the object of go- vernment is to create an enormously wealthy class, and to raise to the highest point the civilization of about one- fifth of the nation, while it leaves nearly three-fifths sunk in the lowest depths of ignorance, hopelessness, and degra- dation, then the system hitherto pursued in Great Britain 168 DISTRIBXjnON OF PEOPEETY. , is perfect. For the classes of our aristocracy, our landed gentry, our merchants, manufiicturers, and richer trades- people, are wealthier, more refined in their tastes, more active and enterprising, more intelligent, and consequently more prosperous, than the corresponding classes of any other country in the world. But if we have enormous wealth, we ought to remember, that we have enormous pauperism also ; if we have middle classes richer and more intelligent than those of any other country, we have also poor classes, forming the majority of the people of this country, more ignorant, more pauperized, and more morally degraded, than the poorer classes of most of the countries of western Europe. And here it is, where Englishmen might well afford sometimes to forget their pride in their own country, and to learn a lesson from other lands." ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPEEATIVE ASSOCIATION. 159 CHAPTER VI. ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION, In considering the manner in which the property belong- ing to any society of men may be held by them, we readily perceive that it is possible for it either to be retained by the whole body collectively, for common use, or to be distributed ammig the several members, to he possessed and used in private. And supposing the one or the other of these methods pursued exclusively, we should all agree in saying, that in the former case we are presented with the idea of a state, or community, founded on the principle of cormnv/nism, and in the latter on that of private property. But although in a loose and the- oretic view, we might be content to conceive of the matter thus, a little reflection would convince us, that in any actual community, the rigid adoption of either of these principles to the exclusion of the other, would be found impracticable ; — ^that, to a certain extent both must have place ; — and that the only useful point of inquiry, is that respecting the form a/nd measmre in which each of them WMst he admitted into a well-ordered polity. Such then is the scope of this chapter : — ^neither absolutely to advocate communism, nor absolutely to denounce it ; but to in- quire, candidly and fearlessly, in what particulars, and to what extent, it is really good for us, and a true expression of brotherly love. 160 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPEKATIVE ASSOCIATION. It is somewhat singular, that although communism, in its eodreme sense, is a scheme of society which has never yet been found capable of reduction to practice, it is yet one of which many eminent philosophers appear to have been enamoured. The charming eloquence of Plato, and the wit and learning of Sir Thomas More, have com- mended to us a polity in which the institution of private property should be utterly abolisht. "I must freely own," says the voyager to Utopia, " that as long as there is any property, and whUe money is the standard of all other things, I cannot think that a nation can be governed either justly or happily : — not justly, because the best things will fall to the lot of the worst men ; nor happily, because all things will be divided among a few, — ^and even these not in all respects happy, — the rest being left to be absolutely miserable. Therefore when I reflect on the wise and good constitution of the Utopians, am.ong whom, all things are so well governed, and with so few laws ; where virtue hath its due reward, and yet there is such an equality that every man lives in plenty ; — when I compare with them so many other nations that are still making hew laws, and yet can never bring their constitution to a right regulation ; — where notwithstanding every one has his property, yet all the laws they can invent have not the power either to obtain or preserve it, or even to enable men certainly to distinguish what is their own from what is anothers : — of which the many lawsuits that every day break out, and are eternally depending, give too plain a demonstration : — when, I say, I balance all these things in my thoughts, I grow more favourable to Plato, and do not wonder that he resolved not to make any laws for such as would not submit to a community of all things. For so -wise a man could not but foresee, that the setting all upon a level was the only way to make a THE ANCIENT SPAETANS. 161 nation happy, ■which cannot be obtained so long as there is property." I have made this long quotation, in order to give an eloquent advocate of that system which rejects private property, an opportunity of speaking for himself But I have to observe, as already stated, that a nation in which such a system has .actually been enforced, is hitherto, as far as I am aware, . unknown to history. Even the Aus- tralians, the rudest of mankind, who build no houses, and wear no clothes, maintain ownership of spears and clubs and boomerangs. The ancient Spwrtans, though they much affected communism in their mode of living, yet assigned to every citizen, in heritable right, his proper share of land, and of HeUotes to tUl it. ; and their syssitia, or common tables, were provided not from the public revenues or stores, but from the special contributions of all who partook of them. The historical example in which, on any large scale, the principle of communism seems to have been carried out to the greatest extent, is that of the Peruvians, when dis- covered by the Spaniards in the fifteenth century. " All the lands capable of cultivation," says Robertson, " were divided into three shares. One was consecrated to the sun, and the product of it was applied to the erection of temples, and furnishing what was requisite toward cele- brating the public rites of religion. The second belonged to the Inca, and was set apart as the provision made by the community for the support of government. The third and largest share was reserved for the maintenance of the people, among whom it was parcelled out. Neither indi- viduals, however, nor communities, had a right of per- manent property in the portion set apart to their use. They possessed it only for a year, at the expiration of which a new division was made, in proportion to the 162 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. rank, the number and exigencies of each famOy."* Now in the sort of disposal of the land which the Peruvian state is here, with a view to the general maintenance of the people, represented as making, there is certainly some- thing which may fairly be called communism ; although, in the particular that each citizen gathered the product of his own allotment for his own use, instead of carrying it to a public stock, there is also something which falls short of the full development of that principle. Our knowledge of the social condition both of the Lakedaimonians and Peruvians, is too imperfect to enable us to judge of the results of their institutions with ac- curacy. Such as it is, however, it affords no reason for deeming them worthy of imitation. The former were little else than a permanent garrison in the midst of a conquered country, to keep whose wretched inhabitants in a cruel thraldom, was the main scope of their policv. To this unrighteous object all that is best and dearest in human life was sacrificed, even among the conquerors themselves. A stern and ferocious people, strangers to domestic happiness, without commerce, literature or arts, — ^the ill-omened art of war alone excepted, — they were punished for the violence which they did to nature, by an inability to maintain their race, and dwindled at length into insignificance through the failure of their families. If there be on record a state in which one decidedly would not have wished to live, I should say, that such a state was Sparta. The Peruvians, though they also were a conquering race, and had founded an empire above two thousand miles in length, were yet a different sort of people, sub- missive and gentle. They were moreover enthralled by a • * History of America, book viL THK PERUVIANS. ] 63 profound and enfeebling superstition. They regarded their Incas as the direct descendants of the sun, which they worshipped, and the reigning prince as scarcely less than a present deity, whose will was in all things to be obeyed. Such mental prostration seems to have un- manned them. One particular alone is sufficient to illus- trate the depth of their subjection : at a certain age, neither above it nor below, every man was forced to marry. In short, the body of the people was reduced to a condition of slavery under the privileged order, and thus was prepared to become an easy prey to the handful of Spanish adventurers which invaded their soil. Prescott well observes, that " the impositions on the Peruvian people seem to have been sufficiently heavy. On them rested the whole burden of maintaining not only their own order, but every other order in the state. This indeed was not materially diflFereut from the condition of things formerly existing in most parts of Europe. The great hardship in the case of the Peruvian was, that he could not better his condition. His labours were for others, rather than for himself. However industrious, he could not add a rood to his own possessions, nor advance himself one hair's-breadth in the social scale. The great and universal motive to industry, that of bettering one's lot, was lost upon him. The great law of human progress was not for him. As he was born, so he was to die. Even his time he could not properly call his own. Without money, with little property of any kind, he paid his taxes in labour. No wonder that the government should have dealt with sloth as a crime. It was a crime against the state ; and to be wasteful of time, was, in a manner, to rob the exchequer. The Peruvian, labouring all his life for others, might be compared to the convict in a tread- mill, going the same dull round of incessant toil, with M 2 164 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. the consciousness, that however profitable the results to the State, they were nothing to him."* On the whole it is evident, that both among the Spar- tans and Peruvians, the communistic element, such as it was, existed not for the benefit of the people at large, but for that of a ruling race, distinct from them, and oppress- ing them ; in the one, it was a provision for cementing a league of tyrants ; in the other for maintaining a race of slaves. Without attempting a formal discussion of the ques- tion of communism, I shall just mention three capital objections, to which this scheme when proposed as a political or compulsory arrangement, superseding private property, is liable, and to which I have never yet seen what has appeared to me a satisfactory answer. The first is, that it goes to paralyse the main- springs of industry ; which are the necessity, naturally incumbent on every man, of providing for himself and his family, and the laudable ambition of bettering his condi- tion in the world. For in a country where the main- tenance of all the citizens should be undertaken by the state, and apportioned not with respect to their services, but to their wants, it is obvious that these motives to ex- ertion would lose much of their power; nor does it appear likely that any others would be found able to supply their place. Secondly, this scheme involves a terrible sacrifice of personal liberty and independence. Maintained by the state, every man would also be bound to work for the state : — the manner, times and all particulars, being pre- scribed to him by the state's oflB.cers, who must also be furnished with coercive authority to enforce the task. Under such a system, no man would be his own master even for a day ; no one, in the Greek phrase, would be * "Conquest of Peru," book i., ch. 2. LOVE OF PROPERTY A NATDRAL INSTINCT. 165 eXevdepog, free to go and come ; without asking leave like a schoolboy, he could not absent himself from hLs tasks for a single hour. In short, the condition of the whole community would be reduced to a close resem- blance to that of paupers, or even of slaves. Even under the wisest and justest administration, such a state of dependence would be irksome and galling ; but liable, as it must inevitably be, to be aggravated by the effects of iU-will, caprice, partiality and corruption in the public officers, it would often become absolutely intolerable. The third objection to this scheme of communism, and perhaps the greatest, is its tendency to sap the kindly and holy ties of family. It would, indeed, be too much to say, that the abolition of private property would of necessity involve the destruction of these likewise. But certain it is, that these two things have their strength in a natural alliance ; and we observe, in fact, that the advo- cates of a thorough-going communism in regard to pro- perty, generally connect it with arrangements which go far toward reducing domestic life to an impracticability, or a nullity. Plato, we know, proposed in his Polity, a community, not only of goods, but of women : and the large boarding reunions of Utopia appear ill-adapted to cherish those domestic affections, which spring up so na- turally under the shelter of the paternal roof Happy is it for mankind, that in these things, the instincts of nature are too strong to be suppressed, either by the theoretic schemes of philosophers, or the arbitrary regula- tions of misguided lawgivers. There is surely not in the human mind a stronger or more universal instinct than the love of property : and it is hard to believe that such an instinct has been implanted in vain. And what can be more obviously just and useful, than that men should, in general, be left to provide 166 ON COMMITNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. for their own wante, and permitted to enjoy the fruits of their own labours ? It is thus that in the mildest but most effectual manner, freedom is combined with energy, industry is enforced, invention quickened, enterprise roused, and even labour itself rendered sweet : while a self-regulating machinery, without fear or favour, and in- accessible to all corruption, dispenses to every man, with unerring precision, the due rewards of his exertions. It is also this system, which hitherto, throughout the world, has been the acknowledged foundation of domestic life and social order ; and which has received the anxious protection of law, and the solemn sanctions of religion. We have been much accustomed, of late years, to hear the name of communism applied to certain proposals, or enterprises, to which it does not properly belong ; since, in fact, they are of a very different nature, inasmuch as they do not found themselves on the abolition, or renun- ciation, of private property. They are such as are some- times spoken of under the names of socialism, or of the organization of labour ; or, as I think, still more suitably, imder that ai co-operative association. Both in our own, and still more in some neighbouring countries, an opinion has been gaining ground among the labouring classes, that the main cause of their depressed condition is to be found in the principle of competition. Through this, it has been represented, that the laboui-ers are in effect devouring one another, snatching the bread out of each other's mouths, depressing each other's wages, and betraying the common cause to the capitalists, their employers. All this, it is said, is the work of the demon, competition, a selfish monster, the arch-enemy of human brotherhood : and the one redeeming antagonistic principle is proclaimed to be association. Instead of competing, let workmen combine together, and there will then be work and wages enough for all. SOCIALISM IN FRANCE. 167 It is in FroMce that such schemes have been most busily projected, and most eagerly entertained. One might have expected, indeed, that in a country where property is so much subdivided, and so generally diffused, the discontent which has made these speculations dan- gerous, would hardly have existed. But it would be a mistake to suppose that there does not exist in France, after all that has been done to prevent it, an immense amount of poverty. It is true that there are at present in that country some five million proprietors of land, but it is also true, that out of these, some four millions possess estates all under twenty acres, and averaging only about eight : and moreover, that collectively these small estates only make up about one quarter of the French soil, while the other three quarters are enjoyed by the remaining million of larger proprietors. If we add, that these peasant properties, beside being often pitifully minute, are heavily taxed, and for the most part encumbered with mortgage, we shall not wonder that their owners are not found in such a condition as to make them indifferent to schemes which promise a change for the better. And if such be the case of the peasant proprietors, it is evident that that of the mere labourers, and of the artisans of the towns, is still less satisfactory. As there is no general poor-law in France, if their labour fail to support them, they have no resource but charity ; only in the large towns some scanty relief is granted from the municipal funds. The fact is certain, that on several occasions, of late years, large masses of the French population have suffered from scarcity in a degree not experienced by the poor of England : and it is moreover much more their habit, when distress does occur, to look to their govern- ment for relief. It may also be suggested, that the very fact, that after the distribution of property has been 168 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPEBATIVE ASSOCIATION. carried so far, so much poverty remains still unrelieved, may possibly have rather contributed to drive the minds of men to seek a more effectual remedy in some other direction. Among many schemes of the kind to which we have alluded, none have deserved or obtained so great celebrity, as those which, from their authors, have been called St. Simonism and Fowierism. The differences between these two projects are not very essential ; and as the latter may be regarded as the latest and best digested form under which French socialism has been proposed, I offer the following sketch of it, in the words of Mr. Mill : " The most skilfully combined, and in every respect the least open to objection, of the forms of socialism, is that commonly known as Fourierism. This system does not contemplate the abolition of private property, nor even of inheritance : on the contrary, it avowedly takes into con- sideration, as an element in the distribution of the pro- duce, capital as well as labour. It proposes, that the operations of industry should be carried on by associations of about two thousand members, combining their labour on a district of about a square league in extent, under the guidance of chiefs selected by themselves. In the distri- bution, a certain minimum is first assigned for the sub- sistence of every member of the community, whether capable or not of labour. The remainder of the produce is shared in certain proportions, to be determined before- hand, among the three elements, lahour, capital, and talent. The capital of the community may be owned, in unequal shares, by different members ; who would in that case receive, as in any other joint-stock company, propor- tional dividends. The claim of each person on the share of the produce apportioned to talent, is estimated by the grade, or rank, which the individual occupies in the foubieeism:. 169 several groups of labourers to ■whicli he or she belongs ; these grades being in all cases conferred by the choice of his or her companions. The remnneration, when re- ceived, would not of necessity be expended or enjoyed in common ; there would be separate menageg for aU who preferred them ; and no other community of living is con- templated, than that all the members of the association should reside in the same pUe of buUding ; for saving of labour and expense, not only in building, but in every branch of domestic economy ; and in order that the whole buying and selling operations of the community being performed by a single agent, the enormous portion of the produce of industry, now carried off by the profits of mere distributors, might be reduced to the smallest amount possible." As fer I am aware, the proposal of Fourier has not yet been put to the test of a practical experiment. Since, therefore, we are not in a position fairly to decide on its merits, it would not be worth our while to busy ourselves long in discussing them. The scheme is evidently drawn by one who felt the force of the objections commonly brought against pure communism, and who therefore studied to avoid them. It is hence that he admits the principle of private property, shares in the capital bear- ing a proportional interest, remuneration for work ac- cording to the time and talent employed in it, and finally separate apartments for &milies, instead of common tables and dormitories. The communistic features retained, — beside those implied in a large and complicate co-operative association, — are those which are seen in the prescribed mode of life ; the whole community dwelling together in one large estabUshment, under one roof ; and though not necessarily all using a common table, yet all supplied from a common kitchen, as well receiving all other neces- 170 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPEKATIVE ASSOCIATION. saries by distribution from a common stock, the product of their united labours. Wow as to this koinobia, Koivofiia, or clubbing together of families, it seems to me that it would be folly and weariness to spend many words on it. Human fiimilies have been living all over the earth for some four thou- sand years, and how much longer we do not know. Now if it had appeared to them expedient, on grounds either of economy or pleasure, or for any other reason, to club together in unions either great or small, there has been nothing whatever to prevent them from doing so. But, in fact, it is the rarest thing in the world to find any instance in which this course has been adopted. Even among near kindred, having so much community of afiec- tion and interest, -we see that beyond that small and sacred group, which nature herself defines, by binding them all to one head, — the irarpia, patria or fe,mily, — household unions are quite exceptional things, and for three or four families to dwell together is rare indeed. It appears, then, that in this respect, the question is already decided against these socialist commimities, by the experience of all ages on a world-wide scale. It is plain that it is a sort of thing which mankind do not like, and do not find comfortable. Whether it be, or be not, the cheapest plan, men like to have their families to themselves ; and for the sake of this comfort, they are willing to under'go, if it be necessary, some additional labour in maintaining them. It is not easy to believe in an economy which would deprive us of our homes, or render the word unmeaning ; and which would cause the village and hamlet to disappear, in order to stud the land, at regular intervals, with great blocks of building, the thronged abodes of congregated multitudes, of all ages, sexes, and occupations. OTHER CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATIONS. 171 As a scheme of co-operative association, we have seen that Fourierism proposes to combine, as elements of re- muneration, labour, capital, and talent ; which is, in fact, to adopt the principles which actually regulate our exist- ing industrial economy. This is well. But in finding it necessary to determine the claims of each individual worker, in respect of talent, by the grade or rank which his companions shall assign him, the system seems to show a weak point. There is no definite criterion of the reward due to workmen, but the exchangeable value, or market price, of their work : and an attempt to estimate it without the help of this criterion, would hardly fail to be a source of so much disagreement and jealousy, as would prove fatal to the harmonious working of the whole system. But if we now turn to co-operative associations of simpler construction, we shall find that many such may and do exist, and some of them not unprosperously. They differ nothing ia principle from ordinary com- mercial partnerships ; and if they involve a communistic element, it is only in the same sense in which these do the same. It is stated, that in Paris there were lately not less than some hundred and fifty co-operative associations, carrying on a great variety of trades. Cooks, bakers, carpenters, tailors, watchmakers!, and others, instead of seeking employment from masters, are working in common, subscribing their own capital, and dividing the profits among themselves. Their success has been various, but on the whole, if not very splendid, yet sufficient to show that such schemes are at least practicable. Nor have we been without some similar adventures at home. Several co-operative associations have within a few years been formed in London, of which the best known has probably been that of The Working Tailors. 172 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. Of these artisans, it appeared that there were in the me- tropolis about twenty-three thousand, whose remunera- tion was in general so low, and their condition so hard, that it attracted the attention of several benevolent men, who set themselves in earnest to find a remedy. The lead was taken by two distinguished clergymen, Kingsley and Maurice, who forthwith declared a war of extermina- tion against the cheap dealers called slopsellers. A capital of 300?. was advanced as a loan, at 4 per cent., some thirty operatives became members, a salaried manager was appointed with full powers, the members worked by piece, according to a scale of prices, the work being all done on the premises. One-third of the net profits was agreed to be devoted to the extension of the association and admission of new members, the remainder to be divided among the workmen in proportion to their earnings, or otherwise applied to their common benefit. Now, on the industrial enterprise above described, and all others of like nature, it is obvious -to remark, in the first place, that they are at least perfectly blameless and harmless ; plain sober matters of profit and loss, in perfect keeping with the genius of the first commercial city in the world ; and as free from any dangerous ele- ment as any of the bankers' firms in Lombard-street. But then it is no less obvious, that those who heralded this Christian Socialism, as they called it, with great flourish of trumpet, as something which was destined to antagonize, and finally overthrow, the hateful principle of competition, were labouring under a great mistake. " The gi-eat merit," it was proclaimed, "^of these asso- ciations is, that they will extinguish competition, and the reduction of wages to which it leads.'' But is this true ? What is there iu such combinations of workmen that is capable of producing such an efiect ? Allowing, what is , WHAT IS COMPETITION? 173 somewhat beyond the truth, that they get rid of com- petition as between their own members, how can they avoid encountering it, when they come to sell their goods in the great market of the world ? The prices which prevail in that market must of necessity regulate the rate of remuneration, whether it be by time or by piece, which their council, or manager, will be able to allow to their working hands. And supposing such associations to be so multiplied, and so successful, as to banish all other conipetitors, they would then, if independent, compete one against another. Only on one supposition, that of a single gigantic association, or organized league of associa- tions, driving all rivals from the field, and getting the whole of a branch of business into their own hands, could competition, and its natural influence on wages, be ex- cluded. But let it be observed, that the point thus gained, the only possible alternative of competition is — monopoly. There is no escape from this dilemma ; except, indeed, through absolute and thorough com- munism, where all property should disappear, and buying and selling, prices and wages, be unknown. " To this complexion must we come at last." But let us inquire whether this opinion, that com- petition is a great evil, and that there is nothing so de- sirable as to be rid of it, is not, after all, a mistake. What is competition 1 It is simply that sort of con- tention, or struggle, which unavoidably arises among men, when an object of common pursuit can, by the nature of the case, be obtained only by one, or at most by a portion of them : the success of one party of necessity involving, more ot less, the failure of others. When, therefore, there is such abundance of any good thing, that there is enough to satisfy the desires of all, — as, thanks 174 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. to the bounty of Divine Providence, there commonly is of air and water, — there is no competition for it : for in this case, the portion which one man takes is not sought by any one else. But for bread, as being an object of uni- versal desire, and yet not to be obtained without labour, and in limited quantity, there is competition. So again, there is competition for employment ; because in a fully peopled country, the demand for work, in any line, is seldom so great as to give full occupation to all the work- men in that line. There is competition, too, among sellers ; because they are in general desirous of increasing their business, and hence are glad to obtain the preference of customers. In short, competition is the most natural thing in the world, — so natural, that as long as men are free agents, and have wants and desires, it must and will exist ; and what we have to desire is, not that it should be superseded or extinguished, but that it should be regu- lated by those principles of equity, kindness, and modera- tion, which under every social arrangement are equally essential to human happiness. But competition, it seems, is guilty of the unpardonable sin of making goods cheap, and lowering wages. " Cheap clothes and nasty," exclaims Mr. Kingsleyj and he seems to imply that they are nasty because they are cheap. Now that ignorant, or interested, persons should often be heard railing at cheapness is not surprising ; but from a man of sense and generous intentions, this was hardly to have been expected. The immediate cause of cheapness is abundance ; an increased and overflowing supply of certain good things. In itself this can never, surely, be an evil, but much the contrary ; or peace and plenty must no longer be esteemed blessings. But let us look further into the sources of this abundance, and see if there be anything there to justify the outcry against competition. COMPETITION CAUSES CHEAPNESS. 175 The abundance which creates cheapness in the products of human labour arises commonly from one or other of the two following causes. In the first place, it often arises from increased facility in production ; as when, through improvements in machinery, a given article can be made by a smaller amount of labour. In this case, while all the consumers are benefited by the resulting cheapness, the producers also sustain no injury, as, owing to an increased demand, there has been no fall in their wages. But at other times, the cause of abundance and cheapness is to be found, not in increased facility of pro- duction, but in an increased supply of labour. There is a redundancy of hands seeking employment ; and this, by the laws which inevitably regulate the market, brings about a fall in wages. When this takes place, the em- ployers, knowing that they can now produce their wares at a less cost, and afford to sell them at a less price, and that this again will lead to a greater demand, see it their interest to set on a greater number of hands ; from which presently arises an increased supply of these articles in the market, and they in consequence become cheaper. This is the true history of that abominable sort of cheap- ness against which such grievous complaints are made. And in this case we must acknowledge, that although the cheapness is a benefit to the public at large, yet inasmuch as it is caused by a depression in the wages of the work- men, there may, on that side, be some ground for regret. Still let us not fail to observe, that the cheapness is not the cause of this evil, but the efiect. Nay, we might add, that its tendency, like that of the clot which stanches the mouth of a bleeding vessel, is remedial. For by in- creasing the sale of the wares, it increases also the demand for the labour of the workmen, and this will certainly, after a while, check the fall in their wages, or even cause them to begin again to rise. 176 ON COMMtTNISM AND CO-OPEEATIVE ASSOCIATION. But it may be xeplied : — Though cheapness be not the cause of low wages, yet you admit that competition is : how then can you deny this last to be a great evil? True J the competition of workmen for employment does tend to lower wages, but not more certainly, remember, than the competition of masters for workmen tends to raise them. Wages, therefore, are raised by competition, as well as lowered ; and the one effect is not more pro- perly to be ascribed to this principle than the other. WLich of these two effects will, in any given instance, ensue from it, will depend on the relative state of sup- ply and demand in the labour market. If the amount of ■work which the employers desire to have done be insuffi- cient to employ all the labourers who are seeking work, then the competition among these labourers to obtain em- ployment wiU assuredly tend to diminish the rate of wages. But, on the other hand, if there be not workmen enough to execute all the work which the masters require, then there will be a competition among these to engage hands, which will as certainly tend to raise the rate of wages. But surely it is evident that competition cannot properly be regarded as the cause either of the rise of wages, or their fall : it is simply the natural means by which the rate of wages is adjusted, so that the demand for labour, and the supply of it, shall equal one another. Nor let it be supposed, that even when competition effects a fall in wages, it does mischief; for we may be assured, that in the cix-cumstances of the case, t/tat Jail was necessary and salutary. It was, in fact, the only condition on which all the workmen seeking employment could be admitted to a share of it. At a higher rate of wages, a part of them only could have been employed at all, and the rest must have been left to starve ; and ac- cording to the old saying, " Half a loaf is better than no REAL CAUSE OF LOW WAGES. 177 bread." At least we may say, that this arrangement, which divides what there is to bestow fairly among all, ought at least to find favour with the advocates of communism. But what avails it, we hear it murmured, to get em- ployment at wages so low that men cannot live on them ? Aye, there indeed is the ruh : there is the solid mischief on which all schemes are broken, like billows on a rock. " That which is crooked cannot be made straight, and that which is wanting cannot be numbered." But blame not competition. She has done the best which the case admitted. Do we blame the captain who, in a scarcity of provisions, puts his crew on short allowance 1 We reach here a question on which the public seem to refuse instruction, and wilfully to shxit their eyes against the light. If a man of small resources begets a la/rge family, no one is surprised, if in the course of a few years, that family is found in straitness and distress. But what is the community at large but an assemblage of families ? What is true of the parts will be true of the whole. If the numbers of the people increase faster than the bread which is to feed them, what can ensue but short allow- ances? The essential cause of low wages is, therefore, one which it lies in the power of the working classes themselves, and of them alone, to control. The remedy is in their own hands. At present, however, they appear in general to contract marriage, and increase their fami- lies, with almost no regard to their ability to maintain them. While people act in this way, is it possible that any human conti-ivance can save them from disti-ess 1 It is not, however, wholly their own fault ; since on this point they receive so little good instruction, while so much is written and preached which tends to mislead them. We must waive false delicacy. This is a subject N 178 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. of such vast moment that it requires plain speaking, and I therefore quote the following important passage from an admirable writer : — " One cannot wonder," he says, " that silence on this great department of human duty should pro- duce unconsciousness of moral obligations, when it produces oblivion of physical facts. That it is possible to delay marriage, and to live in abstinence while unmarried, most people are willing to allow : but when persons are once married, the idea, in this country, never seems to enter any one's mind, that the number of which their family shall consist is at all amenable to their own control. One would imagine that children were rained down upon married people direct from heaven, without their being art or part m the matter ; that it was really, as the common phrases have it, God's will, and not their own, which decided the numbers of their offspring." * We come then to the conclusion, that competition is not deserving of the censures that have been cast upon it. We-have seen that is not the true cause of low wages, though in certain cases it appears as the immediate agent in producing them ; and even then we have seen that it does not reduce them farther than, under the existing circumstances, is Tiseful and necessary. Meanwhile, it will be admitted that competition is the spur of industry, the life of business, the spring of enterprise and improve- ment, and the great security for fair dealing and civility. To be convinced of this, we need only reflect on the ex- tortion and misbehaviour so commonly complained of, where there exists monopoly. In such cases does not every one but the interested party cry out for competi- tion 1 And, we may add, that competition is, after all, the most effectual means of securing the proposed object * Mill's "Political Economy." CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATIONS MAT BE USEFUL. 179 of communistic association. As it Las been ■well ex- pressed : — " distribution of employments by preliminary concert, no practicable machinery could effect ; competi- tion, if allowed to operate unchecked, wUl speedily effect a wiser, juster, more productive, more expansive, and adaptable distribution of them, than any government, guild, or committee, which the wit of man could devise."* But although we neither allow to these co-operative associations the asserted merit of extinguishing competi- tion, nor admit that it woixld really be a merit, even if they did so, it by no means follows that we deem them incapable of doing good service in promoting the pros- perity of the working classes. Especially when they com- bine the principle of joint stock, or co-pa/rtnership in the capital, with that of co-operation in the work, they evi- dently present several points of very considerable advan- tage, and such as well deserve the serious consideration, not only of the working classes themselves, but of all who feel concerned for their welfare, and that of the commu- nity at large. That under such arrangements, an increased remunera- tion would arise to the workmen, is, I think, highly pro- bable, from the following considerations. First, from the rate of their remuneration being dependent on the profits of the business, they woiild all feel a direct interest in its prosperity. This would tend to awaken their intelligence, to stimulate their industry, to make them watchful in preventing all waste and mismanagement, and, among other things, it would make them careful in observing the conduct of their fellow-workmen, and in guarding against the admission of any but good hands ; in regard to which points they might, in general, be expected to possess a * "Edinburgh Eeview." n2 180 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. keener insight than an ordinary master. In consequence of these advantages, it seems probable that the whole profits of a business so conducted would be larger than those of one where the men worked for fixed wages. And secondly, there appears to be reason to think, that the proportional share of those profits, which would be divided among the working hands, would be greater. The place of the capitalist master would be supplied by a manager, rewarded like the men by some certain share of the profits. This man, it is likely, would generally be chosen from among the superior class of workmen, who in our existing establishments often work their way up from the ranks, so as to become foremen, and perhaps ultimately partners. Though probably more eflScient than a capitalist master, the habits of such a man would be more plain and frugal, and a smaller revenue would suffice for his wants. Hence it would not be necessary for so large a portion of the profits to go to his share, as that which is generally appropriated to himself by a capi- talist employer. In making these remarks it is, however, proper to con- fess, that we have not hitherto, at least in this country, had sufficient experience of the working of co-operative associations, to pronounce on their utility with confidence. That in some form it is desirable that the remuneration of workmen should, in part at least, consist in their receiving a rateable share of the profits, can hardly be doubted. Mr. Mill calls this principle " the great economi- cal necessity of modern times." To observe how much it tends to promote the intelligence, industry, and general good conduct of workmen, we need not look farther than to the example of the Cornish miners. It is the estab- lished custom, for gangs of these miners to enter into agreements with the owners of the mines, or their agents. COHNISH MINERS — LIMITED LIABILITY. 181 to execute a certain portion of work, on the terms of re- ceiving so much, in the pound of the price for which the ore shall be sold. The prevailing intelligence, indepen- dence, and respectability of these men, as a class, are well known ; and it is a fact, that great numbers of them are living on little plots of their own, on which they have built houses ; and, moreover, that among them they have nearly a quarter of a million of moaey in the Savings' Bank. The Cornish miners are protected, by the special privi- leges which they enjoy under the Stannary laws, from the ordinary liabilities of partnership, or they would not safely be able to become parties to such contracts ; for it is well known that, in general, the law of England holds all parties who are entitled to share in the profits of any business, personally responsible for the whole of the debts that may be incurred. We sometimes hear people declaiming against the prin- ciple of limited responsibUity, as if it implied that the parties should be exempted from the obligation of paying their just debts : but this is a mistake, inasmuch as its eflfect would be simply to prevent their being unjustly compelled to pay debts which are not fairly their own. Even in ordinary pa/rtner ships, where the firm consists of only a few members, and these all partaking actively in the management, the equity of our present policy, appears very questionable ; for inasmuch as each partner is enti- tled only to a certain share of the profits, it would seem reasonable that he should be answerable only for a similar share of the debts. And if such were the known rule of business, it does not appear that creditors would have any just reason to complain, while it would go far to prevent those unjust and ruinous losses, which, at present, the rash or dishonest conduct of one of the partners often en- tails on the others. 182 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPEEATIVE ASSOCIATION. It is not, however, with partnerships of this kind that we are now most concerned, but with those more nume- rous companies, whose constitution meets the circum- stances of the people at large, by admitting to a share of profit numerous small capitalists, or co-operative work- men. In this country, till very lately, such companies have enjoyed the benefit of limited responsibility only when protected by a royal charter, or special Act of Par- liament. The risk encountered did not indeed appear sufficient to damp the enterprising genius of our country- men, as the great number of joint-stock companies for banking, and other purposes, plainly proves ; still in many particular instances, the consequences to the shareholders have been very disastrous, and their situation is at all times such as may create reasonable anxiety. It is pleasing to observe, that the attention of our legislature is at length directed to this important subject. The act of the last session (1856) especially, though not accomplishing all that is desirable, is yet a great step in the right direc- tion, and wiU doubtless, if the industrial public show themselves well alive to their own interests, lead the way to still more perfect measures. The French law agrees substantially with our own, in allowing the formation of joint-stock companies, with a subscribed and declared capital, and limited liability, on the authorization of the Council of State ; such companies being called Sod&tes Anonymes. But it also permits a form of what may be called mixed liability, with which our law is unacquainted ; namely, that which exists in what is called partnership en commandite. In this, the managing partners are responsible without limit, as in ordinary partnerships ; but others are joined with them, who hold only definite shares, as in a joint stock, and are no farther responsible, though they partake in the profits. LIMITED LIABILITY. 183 In certain cases, such for instance as the carrying out of patents, this kind of partnership is found very convenient. On the whole, then, — whether we consider the power of entering into partnership with limited liability as an essential part of commercial liberty, or as a right especially valuable to the poorer and working classes, in order to give them some fair chance of partaking, along with the wealthy, in the advantages of capital, and bettering their condition in life, — I think we must say, that it is a boon which ought, in all reason and justice, to be freely and fully conceded to the people. To what extent this power may be found practically available, and what may be the measure of the benefit which it can bestow, it is impos- sible, without further experience, to decide : — it is essen- tially a commercial question, and must abide that infallible test of profit and loss, which so soon settles all such ques- tions in the most convincing manner. But that our British citizens ought to enjoy all legal freedom, facility, and encouragement, in making an experiment so blameless and innocent in itself, and so much afiecting their interests, appears to me beyond all question. It has been objected, indeed, that the freedom of which we are speaking, is one which, if largely conceded, would be likely to be greatly abused, not only to the defrauding of individuals, but even to the shaking of commercial credit in general : and when the late bill passed the House • of Lords, several peers of note, on grounds of this kind, recorded a strong protest against it. The fear is, that bodies of shareholders so slightly responsible would ever be falling into imprudent carelessness, if not dishonest recklessness, in regard to the debts incui-red in their name. It is answered, that while it is not pretended that the societies in question would be exempt from a sin so commonly besetting all commercial transactions, still. 184 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. if they were subjected to those provisions for securing publicity whioh are always recommended by their advocates, they would not probably be found less trust- worthy than ordinary private firms. On this point we find some good remarks by M. Goqudin in the Revue des Deux Mondes. " While third parties who trade with individuals," he says, " scarcely ever know, except by approximation, and even that most vague and uncertain, what is the amount of capital responsible for the performance of contracts made with them, those who trade with a Societe Anonyme can obtain full information if they seek it, and perform their operations with a feeling of confidence which cannot exist in the other case. Again, nothing is easier than for an individual trader to conceal the extent of his engage- ments, as no one can know it certainly but himself. Even his confidential clerk may be ignorant of it. It is a secret confined to himself ; one which transpires rarely, and always slowly : one which is unveiled only when the catastrophe has occurred. On the contrary, the Societe Anonyme neither can, nor ought to borrow, without the fact becoming known to all the world, — directors, clerks, shareholders and the public. Its operations partake in some respects of the nature of those of governments. The light of day penetrates in every direction, and there can be no secrets from those who seek for information." But should it really so happen that companies of this sort should prove in general slack to their engagements, it is at least certain that such an evil would soon cure itself They would lose their credit, they would be unable to carry on business, and the world would soon cease to be troubled with them : — reaping, however, the advantage that an experiment had been made, which set a dangerous question at rest. EXAMPLE or AMERICA. 185 But if now, leaving our forebodings, we turn to facts, and look at that country where the experiment in question has really been most fully and fairly carried out, we shall perhaps be drawn towai-d a different conclusion. Accord- ing to Mr. Carey, an intelligent American writer quoted by Mill ; — " Nowhere is association so little trammelled by regulations as in New England ; the consequence of which is, that it is carried to a greater extent there, and particularly in Massachusetts and Rhode Island, than in any other part of the world. In these States the soil is covered with compagnies anonymes — chartered companies for almost every conceivable purpose. Every town is a corporation for the management of its roads, bridges, and schools ; which are therefore under the direct control of those who pay for them, and are consequently well managed. Academies and churches, lyceums and libraries, saving fund societies, and trust companies, exist in num- bers proportioned to the wants of the people, and are all corporations. Every district has its local bank, of a size to suit its wants, the stock of which is owned by the small capitalists of the neighbourhood, and managed by them- selves : the consequence of which is, that in no part of the world is the system of banking so perfect. Massachusetts alone offers to our view fifty-three insurance offices, of various forms, and all incorporated. Factories are incorporated and are owned in shares, and every one that has any part in the management of their concerns, from the purchase of the raw material to the sale of the manufactured article, is a part owner; while every one employed in them has a prospect of becoming one, by the use of pnidence, exer- tion and economy. Fishing vessels are owned in shares by those who navigate them, and the sailors of a whaling ship depend in great degree, if not altogether, on the success of the voyage for their compensation. In short, 186 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. the system affords to every labourer, every sailor, every operative, male or female, the prospect of advancement ; and its results are precisely such as we should have reason to expect. In no part of the world are talent, industry, and prudence so certain to be largely rewarded." And "to this state," Mr. Mill observes, "might England also be brought, but not without giving the same pleni- tude of liberty to voluntary association.'* He also says : — " The value of this organization of industry, for healing the widening and embittering feud between the class of labourers and the class of capitalists, must, I think, impress itself by degrees on all who habitually reflect on the condition and tendencies of modern society. I cannot conceive how any such person can persuade him- self, that the majority of the community will for ever, or even for much longer, consent to hew wood and draw water all their lives in the service, and for the benefit, of others ; or can doubt, that they will be less and less willing to co-operate, as subordinate agents, in any work, when they have no interest in the result.'' What then is the conclusion to which these reflections on communism have brought us ? Briefly this : — That if proposed as a general and compulsory system of public economy, aboKshing private property, and ordain- ing that every person shall work for the State, and be fed by the State ; — communism is not only a visionary and impracticable scheme ; but one which even if it could be realized, would be found highly oppressive and mischiev- ous : — but that when limiting itself to the form of voluntary association among private persons, whether joint-stock, or co-operative, it is a thing not only safe and innocent, but one from which there is even room to expect considerable benefits ; in short, one of our chief anchors of hope for the coming age. CONCLUSION. 187 In regard to this matter, both people and rulers appear to liave fallen into grave errors. Enthusiastic men, with imagizations heated by flattering dreams, and incapable of being contented with anything short of a general re- organization of society according to their own ideas, have not concealed an intention of accomplishing their projects by compulsory legislation, or even by the physical force of multitudes. The rulers, on the other hand, dismayed at the progress of such ideas, and availing themselves of the alarm which they have naturally excited among the possessors of property, have undertaken nothing less than to crush the movement, entirely and at once, by the most severe and arbitrary measures. If the advocates of socialism in France, instead of being proscribed, fined, imprisoned and banished, had together with freedom of speech and writing, been allowed to bring their theories fairly to the test of experiment, in such voluntary asso- ciations as they thought proper, it is probable that the revolution of 1848, and the subsequent troubles, ending in the loss of public liberty, would never have occuiTed. The truth of this remark is confirmed by the happy results which have followed the very opposite treatment which both socialism and chartism have received from the Government of this country. So long as they have respected public order, they have met, and spoken, and printed, unhindered ; and organized themselves in any manner they pleased. The country, meanwhile, has main, tained its peace and stability ; hardly ruffled even by their most formidable demonstrations, which the consta- ble's stafi" alone, without the aid of a single bayonet, was found sufficient to put down. In concluding this chapter, I may observe, that the forms of communism above indicated, are not the only ones which deserve to be mentioned. For there is communism 188 ON COMMUNISM AND CO-OPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. in the great principle of mutual assurance so largely and usefully carried out among us in the various forms of our numerous Provident and Friendly Societies : and there is a still more notable example of communism, in that great reserve of property to the people's use, which the law- has made in those various public rates, to which from of old it has subjected the land. What I have to say of these, I must, however, reserve for another occasion. Meanwhile, let us not deceive ourselves by over-esti- mating the effects of any merely economical arrangements, even though they should be the best possible. We read of one society, in which none of the members " said that ought of the things which he possessed was his own, for they had all things cowmpn." But this communism of the primitive Christians, which was purely voluntary, existed, because " they were ail of one Mart and one soul" while deep piety and fervent love prevailed in every breast. Hence it. was that "they sold their goods and possessions, and parted them to all men, as every man had need." And this principle of pious and earnest love is that by which alone any communism can really live and work throughout the earth. Without it, the best economical arrangements, will prove but a dead form and a helpless failure ; but with it, all arrangements will work well, and the simplest and most natural probably the best. FOLK-EENT. 189 CHAPTEE VII. FOLK-RENT: OR, THE PEOPLE'S CLAIMS ON THE LAND. The principle of communism, in the matter of property, may be adopted, or developed, in three different forms. In the first place, there may be a general disclaimer and abolition of the right of private property, a common right and use in all things being maintained by law, as a part of the constitution of the State. Secondly, there may be the communism of voluntary associations of indi- viduals, clubbing their private properties and earnings together for common benefit, and that either in the way of capital or revenue. Thirdly, while in general conceding property to private possessors, the State may, as indeed it always does, make to itself certain reserves, either of the property itself, or of the revenue derivable from it, for public use. Of these three forms of communism, the two former, with their respective merits, having already been considered, it now remains that we direct our attention to the last. The scope, however, of my subject does not lead me to discourse on public property and revenue in general, but only so far as they are appropriated immediately to the use and benefit of tJie common people, so as to afford them the advantages otherwise derivable from private property, and be to them a substitute for it. It is there- 190 FOLK-RENT. fore to this view of the subject that I shall at present confiDe myself. And I have first to remind the reader, that in judging of the rights which the community and individuals may respectively claim in property, an important distinction is to be made between the different kinds of it. Lcmd, as has been already noticed, stands on a different footing from those things which are the product of human in- dustry. That which a man has made by his own labour, he has a strong natural title to call his own : but that .■^(fhich no man has made, being the free gift of God to our race at large, appears as plainly to be subject to the disposal of the community for the common good. Indeed, that the land of every country does belong, of primary and indefeasible right, to the body of the people, is a principle not only agreeable to natural justice, but one which appears to have been acknowledged in the laws or usages of nearly all nations. In the rudest tribes, the territory which they possess is used in common by all their members, as hunting ground. And the case is similar among nomadic hordes ; every man freely pas- turing his flocks and herds on any spot not actually pre- occupied by those of another owner. In the earliest stages also of agricultural life, as in that described by Tacitus and Caesar as existing among the ancient Gauls and Germans, we find a certain common use of the land still maintained. -^gri, pro numero cultorum, ah universis per vices occupantur* The fields are occupied by all in turn, according to the number of tlie cultivators. Under the great oriental despotisms, as in China and India, the land has generally been held by the cultivators as immediate tenants of the sovereign, to whom, as representative of the State, a customary rental * Taciti Germania. THE LAND BELONGS TO THE COMMTJNITT. 191 is reserved, and who ejects the occupier as often as this condition is not fulfilled. Even in modem Europe, the tenure of landed property has partaken, through its feudal origin, of the same character. AU such property was derived mediately or immediately from a conditional grant of the sovereign, in whom alone the idtimate right both of the disposal and reversion of it rested. The con- ditions were various ; — ^in general, personal service in war, in other cases certain tributes or payments. The tenures, too, were for the most part limited originally to the life of the grantee, and were always forfeited by the non-fulfilment of the conditions, or any failure in feudal duty. And, indeed, to this day, and in our own country, though almost reduced in practice to a legal fiction, it is still the fundamental theory of the law, that all landed estates are held by virtue of an original grant from the crown, on condition of services which are now, for the most part, considered as represented by the payment of the land-tax. The principle thus recognised is of the greatest importance : it lies at the foundation of a just polity; and the numerous encroachments which have been made on it by pretended private rights, to the detri- ment of the public, show with what vigilance it ought to be guarded. Let us then assume the paramount right of the com- munity over the land of its territory, as a thing which ,ust needs be acknowledged by all reasonable men. It fill then remain, as a duty incumbent on the State, to ixercise this right in such a manner as shall best harmo- nize the claims of the public with those of individuals. In efiect, our subject here divides itself into two branches. We have to consider, first, — Wltat ^«e and interest in the land ought to he reserved to tin community ; and after- wards, — In what manner it is desirable to regulate the 192 FOLK-KENT. distribution of the residue as private property. It is the former only of these inquiries that we undertake in this chapter. It appears to me certain, that the rights of private property in land have been pushed beyond their just measure. The soU is surrendered to private occupation for the purposes of agriculture : it is only, then, so far as these purposes require, that the limitation of its com- mon use is justifiable. By this criterion, it does not appear why the exclusion of the public from private estates should, generally speaking, be carried beyond what is necessary in order to prevent hindrance to tillage, or damage to crops and fences. Why should a harmless walk in the fields be held a trespass? Surely, where cattle graze, the foot of man, or of sportive children, can do no injury J and to hinder people from rambling through woods and wUds, or along the sea-coasts and rivers, and to debar them from bathing, and fishing, and partaking of field-sports in their season, is still more unreasonable. Who can tell of how much innocent and healthy pleasure the common people are thus deprived; — or how much they lose of that hardihood and free spirit, which are at once their glory and the national strength 1 But more especially does it concern the community, to reserve to itself ample accommodation in highways and public paths, as thoroughfares from place to place. All possible legal facility ought to be afibrded for obtaining such accommodation where required, as well as for defend- ing that already enjoyed from obstruction or encroachment. Far enough is all this from our actual case. In num- berless instances, the public is forced to traverse circuitous and hilly roads, when more direct, or more level ones, might easily be made. But then, in order to obtain a new way, even for a furlong, we must commonly, with much COMMOK USES OP THE LAITD. 193 cost and ado, move the central legislature, — King, Lords, and Commons. Of foot cmdjidd paths, too, so character- istic of a humane respect for the common people, our provision, compared with what convenience requires, is wretchedly scanty ; and even on these, encroachments by greedy landowners are daily made. No public authority interferes : what is everybody's business is nobody's : and iinless some public-spirited individual should step forward, at his own trouble and cost, to do battle for the common rights, the spoliation is effected. A wealthy and unscru- pulous agrocrat has, in these cases, every encouragement to attempt this sordid and iniquitous achievement, and not seldom basely glories in his success. The case in which a northern lord has of late endeavoured illegally to exclude the traveller and tourist from a long-frequented Highland pass is known to alL A further common use of land, by all means to be re- tained, is that of providing proper grounds for public exercise and recreation. In this particular we are very defective, more so than most of the neighbouring nations ; and it is to be feared that herein, of late years, we have rather retrograded than advanced. It is certain that many a village green, once the scene of rustic pastimes, has dis- appeared ; and too often, through the corruption of corpo- rate bodies, the public walks and bowling-greens about our towns have shared the same fate. It is indeed sad to observe, that amid all the vaunted charity and philan- thropy of this self-complacent age, so little enlightened concern is shown by the ruling classes for the people's happiness. We build hospitals and dispensaries, to cure sickness ; we cover the land with churches and chapels, to teach morals and religion ; and at the same time we are content to leave our population crowded in close cham- bers and noisome courts, or thronging the reeking pot- o 194 FOLK-RENT. house or stifling theatre, while we withhold from them those cheap facilities for outodoor exercise and recreation, which promote, not only health and vigour, but also social urbanity and refinement. Let us hope the day may not be distant when public Walks, with green and grove, will adorn every town and village in our land. But while thus reserving to the people's use a certain portion of the land itself, the community is further enti- tled, for the same purpose, to claim from those private proprietors, among whom the bulk of it is distributed, some considerable share of the rental. What the rent of land is, and whence it arises, may be thought too obvious to need any explanation. That the subject, however, is not quite so clear and simple as it at first appears, is evident from the amount of controversy to which it has given occasion. As this question is not only of primary importance in political economy generally, but one which essentially concerns our present subject, I venture to ofier a few remarks, wliich, I hope, may help to set it in a clear light. The rent of land, as we aU know, is the price periodi- cally paid by the tenant, or occupier, to the owner, for the use of it. It is also evident that the tenant could not afford to pay any such consideration, unless the value of the produce exceeded the amount of the expenses of cultivation, together with tlie ordinary profits of the capi- tal, or stock, employed in it. If he did so, he would do it to his own loss and wrong. This matter is well stated by Adam Smith. " In adjusting," he says, "the terms of the lease, the landlord endeavours to leave the tenant no greater share of the produce than what is sufficient to keep up the stock from which he furnishes the seed, pays the labour, pm-chases and maintains the cattle, and other instruments of husbandry, together with the ordinary THEORY OF KENT. 195 profits of farming stock in the neighbourhood. This is evidently the smallest share with which the tenant can content himself, without being a loser, and the landlord seldom means to leave him any more. Whatever part of the produce, or, what is the same thing, whatever part of its price, is over and above this share, he naturally en- deavours to receive to himself as the rent of his land ; which is evidently the highest the tenant can afford to pay, in the actual circumstances of the land."* Rent then, we see, is derived from a surplus produce of laud, beyond what is necessary to reimburse and remu- nerate the cultivator. Such is plainly the doctrine of Adam Smith, and as far as it goes, it is substantially in accordance with the views entertained by succeeding economists to this day. But these later writers have pushed the investigation farther, and unfolded what they have called a new, but what, perhaps, might more pro- perly be regarded as an enlarged and completed theory of rent. What is the cause of there being, on rent-yielding lands, that excess of produce, or profit, which has been spoken of? What is it which has caused the market price of the produce to rise above that which was necessary simply to remunerate the cultivator 1 The cause is simply an ex- isting scarcity of such land, in relation to the demand for its produce. In that super-abundance of good land which often exists in newly settled colonies, the rent is almost nominal. Only the best land is cultivated; and the sup- ply of agricultural produce is so plentiful, that the pi'ices obtained by the farmer will do little more than repay the wages of his labourers, and remunerate him for his trouble and the use of his capital. But when, with the * " Wealth of Nations," Book i. ch. xi. 02 196 rOLK-EENT. growth of the community, all the best and most advan- tageously situated lands have been brought under culti- vation, population still continuing to advance, the supply from these lands is no longer able to satisfy the whole de- mand; competition therefore ensues among the purchasers; prices rise; and now yield the farmer, beyond his ordinary remunerative profit, a surplus, which he is able to pay, and which the landlord will not faU to demand, as rent. If now there were no further supplies of food from any quarter to be obtained, prices would continue to rise, until, as under a strict monopoly, they became the high- est which the people could possibly afford to pay, and population would at the same time become stationary. But this is hardly in any instance the actual state of the case. In general, rise of price gives birth to a remedy by which it is itself checked and regulated. It causes culti- vation to be extended to inferior lands, and to be carried on by improved, though more expensive processes ; in both of which ways the amount of produce becomes pro- gressively increased. It is further evident, that cultivation will advance just so far on the inferior land, as the advance of the market prices will make it remunerative ; and consequently, that the cultivation of the outer margin, being simply remu- nerative without a surplus, will yield no rent. Now from this consideration we obtain a measure, or criterion, by which to judge, what portion of the price of the prodiice may be taken as rent on each grade of superior land. That portion is equal to the difference between the expense of raising such produce on the land in question, and that of raising the same produce on the worst land on which it is cultivated, for the same market; for this last is equal to the whole price. If for example, the expense of raising a quarter of wheat on the THEORY OF RENT. 197 ■worst land be sixty shillings, and that of raising the same quantity on several progressively superior soils, be fifty, forty, thirty shillings, respectively, then on these several lands there will be ten, twenty, thirty shillings, respec- tively, for every quarter raised, available for rent. Such is, in effect, the theory of rent which, having first been brought forward by James Anderson, a Scotch farmer, in the year 1777, and afterwards adopted by Mal- thus, Ricardo, MacuUoch, Mill and others, may now be regarded as the received doctrine of economists. It has been objected to by some writers of distinction, as if it affirmed that the essential cause of rent on land was the existence of inferior land. For instance, Dr. Chal- mers, in his work on " Political Economy," writes thus, " It is a signal error in a recent theory of rent, that the difference of quality in soils is the efficient cause of it. The difference between the produce returned for the same labour from a superior soil, and from the one last entered upon, is the measure, and not the cause of rent. Had there been no gradation of soils, but had all been of the same uniform fertility with any given land which now affords rent, that land would have afforded rent still." If the theory in question had really involved the doctrine which the pious and eloquent divine imputes to it, his censure would certainly have been well founded. I must own, however, that the misconception of Chalmers appears to me entitled to excuse, from the looseness and inaccuracy of the phrases which the expounders of Anderson's doc- trine have often employed ; and it seems to me, that in calling the theory of rent the pons asinoruTn of political economy, Mr. Mill has been somewhat more sarcastic than the occasion required. Before quitting this subject, there is one erroneous opi- nion against which it may be well to guard. It is that which 198 FOLK-RENT. supposes the payment of rent to be a cause of increased price in agricultural produce. This point is well explained by Adam Smith. " Rent," he says, " enters into the price of commodities in a different way from wages and profit. High and low wages and profit are the causes of high or low price : high or low rent is the effect of it. It is because high or low wages and profit must be paid, in order to bring a particular commodity to market, that its price is high or low. But it is because its price is high or low, — a great deal more, or very little more, or no more, than what is sufficient to pay those wages and profit, that it afibrds a high rent, or a low rent, or no rent at all." Sent, then, is not the cause of increased price, but the effect of it. It appears then, on the whole, that rent is a price paid for the use of land, as a necessary instrument in the pro- duction of food, and existing only in a limited quantity ; that it is regulated by the ordinary principles of supply and demand ; and is closely analogous to interest paid for the use of capital. It appears, moreover, that rent is derived from what, though not properly a ')nonopoly price, is truly a scareiiy price of bread ; and that it is augmented in proportion to the scarcity. Hence it appears also, how justly the public, the primary and most rightful owner of this landed capital, so to speak, is entitled to reserve to itself such part as may be needful of the revenue thence accruing. And it is evident, that this last consideration will carry the greater force, in proportion as, in any State, the number of the landowners shall be small in comparison with the rest of the community. We often hear complaints of the burdens laid on landed property, as if the public rates on land abstracted just so much of what, originally and properly, belonged to the owners. Such complaints are very unreasonable. It PROPER OBJECTS OF RATES ON LAND. 199 should be considered, that the right of landed properly, — that is, of the landowner, as distinct from the land- tiller, — is entirdy conventional and a creation of the State. In an unorganized society, the actual occupiers of a plot of ground, provided it were not more than their fair share, would doubtless have an equitable claim to retain possession of it so long as they continued to culti- vate it. But a claim of ownership in land which a man is not using ; — that is, a claim either to retain it unculti- vated, or to levy a rent on him who does cultivate it ; — is, as far as I see, a claim which rests on no right of nature whatever, but wholly on positive institutions. This sort of property is therefore essentially founded on a concession of the State ; and the State is consequently entitled to attach to this concession whatever conditions or reserves it shall, in its discretion, see fit. Occupiers, or cultivators, of the soil, there must needs be in all countries : but landowners are a class of citizens whom it is very possible to dispense with. That it is a better policy to concede a valuable and permanent interest in the land to private owners, there is no room to doubt ; with landlords, as a class, we have, therefore, no quarrel But, at the same time, it is evident that they have no right to complain of a liberal rating of their estates for public pui-poses. We come now to the consideration of the particular objects on behalf of which rates on landed property may most properly be levied ; confining ourselves, as I proposed, to the consideration of local rates, locally expended, for the more immediate service of the common people; as distinct from such contribution as may reasonably be expected from the land to the common funds of the State, for national purposes, and which among us is represented by the land and property-tax. 200 rOLK-EENT. The first subject demanding attention, is one which hitherto, considered as a public concern, has been most strangely, and I may say, most disastrously neglected among us : — I mean that of Popular Education. That a good education ought to be freely provided for the children of the poorer classes of the com- munity, is a truth which appears to be rapidly forcing itself on the convictions of all thinking minds. To allow the unoffending and helpless little ones of the rising gene- ration to grow up in ignorance and vice, through the poverty or neglect of their parents, is as impolitic as it is crueL It is a national sin, which never fails to entail its own punishment. On the other hand, the universal diffusion of good education is a security for innumerable blessings, and among other benefits, lays the broadest and surest foundation for public liberty, and a becoming social equality. It has been contended by many, that the education of the poor may safely be left to the exertions of private charity amd benevolence, and that the interference of the State is therefore unnecessary. But though the efibrts made for this purpose, by our various religious bodies, have been truly great and laudable, and have assuredly done much toward mitigating the evil, yet experience appears to show, that without further aid, the voluntary principle is unequal to accomplishing the great work which is required. Not only is the existing supply of schools, especially in the rural parishes, very partial and defective, but the quality of the education given in them is, for the most part, so low as hardly to deserve the name. In a general view, the most recent statements indicate that the pro- portion of our children between the ages of five and four- teen who are attending school, is not above one half. But perhaps nothing will impress this subject so forcibly STATE OP EDUCATION OS THE OOSTESEST. 201 on the minds of my readers, as a (ew statements showing how much, in r^ard to the discharge of this duty to their peojie, many foragn gocemmenU have acedled our own ; and ho-w- much, in consequence, tiie common people of England are surpassed, in intelligence and good manners, by their continental neighbours. " It is a great feet," observes Mr. Joseph Kay, '• how- ever much we may be inclined lo doubt it, that through- out Prussia, Saxony, Bavaria, Bohemia, Wirtemberg, Baden, Hanover, Denmai^ Switzerland, Norway, and the Austrian Iknpire, cM the children above six years of age are actually at this time attending school, and receiving a careful religions, moral, and intellectual education, from highly educated and efficient teachers. AU the youth of the greater part of these countries can read, write, and cipher, and know the Bible history, and the history of their own country. Ifo children are left idle and dirty in the streets of the towns ; there is no class of children to be compared, in any respect, to the children who fre- quent our raggC'i schools : all the children, even of the poorest parents, are, in a great part of these countries, in dress, appearance, cleanliness, and manners, as polished and civilized as the children of our middle classes. The children of the poor in Germany are so civilized that the rich often send their children to the schools intended for the poor ; and lastly, in a great part of Germany and Switzerland, the children of the poor are receiving a better education than that given in England to the children of the greater part of our middle classes." Similar statements might, for the most part, be extended to France, Holland, Sweden, and other parts. The French government expends in public education above two millions sterling a year. In Sweden, it is said, there is hardly above one person in a thousand who cannot both 202 FOLK-RENT. read and write. Mark the contrast. In England the largest annual grant by parliament, for the purposes of education, has fallen below half a million, and the propor- tion of adult persons who cannot both read and write, is reckoned at about one-half of the whole. By the laws of Prussia, and most of the continental countries above mentioned, every town, and every rural parish, is required to maintain one or more good schools for the education of all the children not otherwise pro- vided for. These schools are supported, as far as may be required, by a rate imposed on all the householdei-s, and likewise on landed estates. It is a fundamental law of these countries, that aM children shaU be properly educated; and consequently all parents are obliged to send their children to these public schools, unless they can satisfy the authorities that their instruction is duly provided for otherwise. This regulation applies, in general, to all children between the ages of six and fourteen, but in Austria, only to those between six and twelve ; which, I own, for compulsory daily attendance, appears to me sufficient, and even preferable. Mr}liv ayav. The best things may be overdone. Moreover, the instruction imparted in these schools is of a high order. All the teachers are well instructed and respectable men, who have been trained for their pro- fession in excellent normal schools, and have received certificates of competent attainments and character. In Prussia the schools are regulated, and the teachers appointed, by a committee composed of certain public officers, the ministers of religion, and a certain number of members elected by the householders of the parish : — only it is provided, that the teacher shall be one whose qualifications are attested by a diploma, and that when once chosen, he shall not be removable except by higher TREATMENT OF THE RELIGIOUS DIFFICULTY. 203 authority. This secures to the teacher a proper inde- pendence, and makes his position respectable. I should add, that a general superintendence of the schools, in all their concerns, is maintained by the government through the Minister of Public Instruction and the magistrates. On the whole, it is a great system, well considered, liberally supported, and ably administered in all respects. Its effects equal all expectation, and seem to give general satisfaction. " A proof," writes Mr. Kay, " of the satisfaction with which the Prussian people regard the educational regu- lations, is the undeniable fact, that all the materials and machinery for instruction are being so constantly and so rapidly improved, over the whole country, and by the people themselves. Everywhere I found new and hand- some schoolhouses springing up, old ones being repaired, a most liberal supply of teachers and apparatus provided by the municipal authorities, the greatest cleanliness, lofty and spacious schoolrooms, and excellent houses for the teachers ; — all showing that the importance of the work is fully appreciated by the people, and that there is every desire on their part to aid the government in carry- ing out this vast undertaking." It will perhaps be asked, how the Germans have sur- mounted the difficvMies arising from the rivalry of re- ligious sects, of which it is well known that that country has not been less fruitful than our own? They have done it very simply, and very successfully. In every parish where there are more sects than one, as of Roman- ists and Protestants, they just give them the choice of either instituting a mixed school for both, or a separate school for each : only, the one, or the other, they must do. If they prefer a mixed school, then of course the teacher will generally be chosen from the prevailing sect j but in 204 FOLK-RENT. this case, the children of the other sect are at liberty to withdraw when the religious instructions are given. If separate schools be preferred, which appears to be the more common course, then each sect elects a teacher of its own persuasion. Nearly a similar method is pursued in Austria,, France, and several other States ; but the best plan appears to me to be that adopted in Holland, which is thus described.* "As respects religion, the population of Holland is divided in about equal proportions, into Catholic, Lu- theran, and Protestants of the Reformed Calvinistic Church ; and the ministers of each are supported by the State. The schools contain, without distinction, the children of every sect of Christians. The religious and moral instruction afforded to the children is taken from the pages of Holy Writ. Biblical history is taught, not as a dry narration of facts, but as a storehouse of truths calculated to influence the affections, to correct and elevate the manners, and to inspire sentiments of devotion and virtue. The great principles and tniths of Christianity in which all ai-e agreed, are likewise carefully inculcated : but those points which are the subjects of difference and religious controversy, form no part of the instructions of the schools. This department of religious teaching is confided to the ministers of each persuasion, who discharge this portion of their duties out of school." But for a recommendation of this generous and truly catholic method, why need we look abroad 1 The same principle has been adopted by our own government, as the foundation of the National System of Education in Ireland. In spite of abundant clerical opposition, the experiment has fully succeeded ; and at this time, half a million of children, Romanist and Protestant, are not only * Kay, vol. ii. p. 445. ■WHAT SHALL ENGLAND DO? 205 receiving, in the same classes, the benefits of good in- struction, but what is even more important, are learning to regard one another with mutual respect and goodwill. This system is too good, however, to be without power- ful and insidious enemies. It behoves all who wish well to that much injured land, jealously to guard it from all encroachments. Did my space permit, I might further quote, as afford- ing a splendid example of national education conducted on the most liberal principles, the United States of America. I have only room to mention, that by a late census it appears, that in these States, above three million children and young persons are daily attending the public free schools, and receiving instruction of a high order. These republicans, wisely and consistently, regard the education of the citizens as the first duty of the State, the essential basis of their polity. What shall we say then t Shall England in respect to the discharge of this great duty be among the last of the natio7is 1 Shall the children of her peasants and artisans continue to be among the most rude and uninstructed in Christendom ! Shall her unbounded wealth avail so little in the service of the industrious millions by whom it is created ? Above all, shall the guUt and infamy of this neglect continue to be laid at the doors of our religion 1 It must not, it cannot be ! It never was religion that did it : — it was priestly ambition and sectarian bigotry. But let us hope that their day is past. Let us trust that all that is really religious, and just, and generous in our land, will at length arouse itself ; — will spui-n their sordid self-seeking and vile jealousies, and gird itself in earnest to the work. The way to be pursued is broad and clear ; illus- trated by many examples, and generally approved by 206 FOLK-RENT. upright and enlightened minds. Let an educational rate be established ; but, as in Germany, let the sects in a town, or parish, have an option of maintaining with it either mixed or separate schools. In all schools assisted by the rate, let it be required, as in Holland, that only the com- mon and catholic principles of Christianity shall be taught, controversial points being avoided ; the books used being the Scriptures, and such others as shall be compiled by public authority on a catholic plan, as done in Ireland ; all distinctive sectarian formularies and phraseology being rejected. Let the express religious instruction be confined to certain fixed hours, and let all children whose parents desire it, be at liberty to withdraw. Lastly, let no child be refused admittance into any such school on account of his religion. On the one hand it is most de- sirable that such principles be adopted as will dispose the sects in general to have schools in common ; on the other, in our existing state of religious feeling, it seems necessary to concede a liberty, when desired, of having them separate. After the question of education, the next which seems to demand consideration, is that of the propriety of a public provision for the maintenance of religious worship. It appeai-s sufliciently plain, that so far as such provi- sion is really required for the benefit of the poor, and can be dispensed with perfect justice to all religious par- ties, and without detriment to freedom and sincerity in the formation and profession of opinion, or involving the church in a corrupting and degrading connexion with the State, — it is a very proper and desirable one to be made. But as these questions cannot well be treated, without entering into some discussion which will be more convenient in another place, I shall defer what I have to say on this matter till a future occasion. At present we OEIGDiT OP OUR POOR LAWS. 207 will proceed to the very important and interesting subject of the Poor Rate. It has been a general practice with humane nations, — and a very laudable one, in its intention at least, it seems to be, — to make some public provision for the relief of the poorer classes in cases of disability and distress. Yet it is acknowledged, that this affair of hgal charity pre- sents one of the most difficult practical questions of the age. It is, however, one of so great moment, and so nearly concerning all ranks of society, that it well deserves our serious consideration. That for many years preceding the year 1834, when our Poor Laws partook of the reform, which about that time was so happily introduced into many of our institutions, great and formidable evils were fast accruing to this country from their operation, is on all hands admitted. But the question is still agitated, whether even under the present improved arrangements, or any others that could be adopted, the compulsory relief of poverty be not liable to such great abuses, as on the whole to be fraught with more evil than benefit. It has been contended by many, and among others by the late Dr. Chalmers of Edinburgh, that the system ought to be abandoned altogether : I think, however, that more and weightier authorities have decided, that under proper limitation and regulation, some form of it is not only expedient, but necessary. In the form in which the Poor Laws were originally enacted in England, they were not so unjust and pernici- ous as they afterward became. It was on occasion of the dissolution of the religious houses by King Henry the Eighth, that the country suddenly found itself overrun by hosts of those needy mendicants and idle vagrants, who had hitherto been supported by the charity of those nu- 208 FOLK-KENT. merous and wealthy foundations. To abate this evil, several statutes were successively passed, partaking some- what both of a charitable and penal character ; the most notable of these was that of \!aR forty-third of Elizabeth, just at the commencement of the seventeenth century. It is this statute which still continues to be the basis of our whole system. It enacts, first, that the overseers of every parish shall provide materials and set to work all persons having no means of maintaining themselves ; and secondly, that they shall afford necessary relief to the lame, bUnd, aged, and others not able to work. Now on the original provisions of our Poor Law, as unfolded in this famous statute, we may remark ; — First, that considered as an acknowledgment and concession of the right of the people at large to partake in the use of the natural means of living, — that is, of the land or other necessary materials for earning their bread, — they recog- nise and establish a wise and righteous principle; — one from which great consequences follow, and deserving ever to be held fast by the people ; — Secondly, — that iu ruling that no human being among us shall be allowed to starve, but that while the able-bodied, if out of employ- ment, are set to work, the disabled and infirm shall be freely relieved, so far as their necessities require, — even though this may exceed the strict debt of justice, — they follow the dictates of humanity, and are highly honour- able to our country. " It will be admitted," says Mr. Mill, " to be right that human beings should help one another, and the more so in proportion to the urgency of the need : and none ijeeds help so urgently as one that is starving. The claim to help, therefore, created by destitution, is one of the strongest which can exist ; and there is, primd fade, the amplest reason for making the relief of so extreme an DANGER OF ITS ABUSE. 209 exigency as certain to those who require it, as by any ar- rangements of society it can be made." He afterwards thus states the reasons why he considers it desirable, that a certainty of subsistence should be held out by law even to the destitute able-bodied, rather than that their relief should depend on voluntary charity. " In the first place," he says, " charity almost always does too much, or too little : — it lavishes its bounty in one place, and leaves people to starve in another. Secondly, since the State must necessarily provide subsistence for the criminal poor while undergoing punLshment, not to do the .same for the poor who have not oflFended, is to give a premium on crime. And lastly, if the poor are left to individual charity, a vast amount of mendicity is inevitable, and to get rid of this is important, even as a matter of police." But though in a choice of evils, under the pressure of an overgrown population, and generally diseased condition of society, we are constrained to admit the expediency of some public provision for relief of the extremer necessities of poverty, it is yet to be remembered that the claim thus conceded is a thing of most serious import, most difBcult to define, most liable to abuse, most pernicious in many of its tendencies, and ever ready to unfold itself into a most portentous evil. " There are few things," says Mill, " in which it is more mischievous that people should rely on the habitual aid of others, than for the means of subsistence ; and unhappily there is no lesson which they more easily learn." Chalmers may have gone too far in denouncing a poor-law altogether, yet in his remarks on its evil tendency there is much truth. " The virtue of humanity," he says, "ought never to have been lega- lized, but left to the spontaneous workings of man's own willing and compassionate nature. Justice, with its pre- 210 FOLK-KENT. cise boundary and well-defined rights, is the fit subject for the enactments of the statute-book ; but nothing can be more hurtful and heterogeneous, than thus to bring the terms of the ministrations of benevolence under the bidding of authority. The law which enforces the claims of justice is acquiesced in by the general mind of society. But the law which would enforce charity, can fix no limits either to the ever-increasing wants of a poverty which itself hath created, or to the insatiable desires and demands of a population whom itself hath corrupted and led astray. The holders of property can see no end to the exactions of pauperism; and the nurselings of pauperism, with their constantly increasing numbers and necessities, wiU overpass every limit in their aggressions on property." These warnings of such a man, the truth of which is obvious to common sense, while it has been fearfully confirmed by large experience, deserve the serious attention of those, who, whether from a mistaken humanity, or from an indolent or interested desire to re- lieve themselves from the duties of private charity, are for ever advocating what they call a liberal administra- tion of the poor-law. The foregoing remarks apply to our poor-law system, even in its essential principle, and in that simplest and best form, in which it appears in the Act of Elizabeth : but compared with the modifications of it which were afterwards introduced, this original model was in the highest degree prudent and salutary. Blackstone observes, that " the farther any subsequent plans for maintaining the poor have departed from this . institution, the more impracticable, and even pernicious, their visionary at- tempts have proved." The first great innovation was made in the reign of Charles the Second. It seems to have been thought that LAW OF SETTX/EMENT AND REMOVAL. 211 the poor, in those daya, enjoyed too much liberty of choosing their place of residence. To curb this liberty, there was enacted a new^io of settlement. Previously, every man was entitled to relief from the parish in which he was bom, or from that in which he had resided the three preceding years. This was simple and reasonable. But now the question of settlement became complicated, through the variety of new modes in which it might be obtained : ■ — as by parentage, apprenticeship, service, marriage, serving parish offices, renting, and others ; and so for the most part it remains to this day. Henceforth the determination of a man's settlement became often quite a difficult problem, even for lawyers ; a whole library of books was written on it ; and a world of litigation be- tween parishes consumed unprofitably the rates intended for the maintenance of the poor. Moreover, with this law of settlement came also its appropriate accompaniment, the power of removal, which before had been wholly unknown. If a poor man became chargeable, or even was deemed by the parish officer likely to become chargeable, to the parish where he re* sided, he was made liable, on application to the justices, to be removed to the place of his settlement : and if, after such removal, he ventured at any future time to return to the parish whence he had been removed, he was subject to punishment as a vagabond. This was, in effect, not merely to deprive the poor of their personal liberty, but to disable them from leaving their parish to seek employment ; thus tying them down for life to the spot where they had been so unfortunate as, either by birth or other accident, to have gained a settlement. In short, it was, and is, — for the law is only partially altered, — a most oppre.=;sive enactment toward the poor, and, as regards the community, an instance of wretched p2 212 POLK-EEKT. economy, impeding, as it does, the free circulation of labour. A further notable change in the practical working of the poor-law was introduced in the course of the last war with France ; when, in consideration of the prevailing distress, the magistrates were induced to adopt a system of regular outodoor allowance to able-bodied labourers, proportioned to the number of their children. It is obvious that a more direct bounty on idleness and impro- vidence could hardly have been devised. And it was coupled with another proceeding equally pernicious : — that of letting out tlie paupers to the farmers at reduced wages. By this, the standard of wages was, of course, artificially depressed : no independent labourer, with a family, could live ; and in consequence, almost the whole body of our peasantry were unavoidably thrust down into pauperism. In efiect, a portion of the labourer's wages was systematically paid out of the parish rates ; and the peasant whose honest pride recoiled from this degrada- tion, was deprived of a part of his just earnings, and brought to the verge of starvation. On the whole, the situation of our peasantry under this treatment is well expressed by Mr. Pashley : — " The slave on a West India plantation was not more completely deprived of every incentive to prudence ; and although, on the one hand, the English agricultui-al labourer could not hope ever to mend his condition, yet, on the other, he was released from all fear of materially injuring himself by any prodigality or misconduct of which he might be guUty."* Do any wonder, that a system so unjust and pernicious should ever have been adopted by the great body of * " Pauperism," p. 257. BANEFUL EFFECTS OF THIS SYSTEM. 213 English gentlemen 1 They may be reminded, that apart from compassion to the poor, and apart from the gross prevailing ignorance of the true principles of public economy, the country gentlemen may have imagined that they had some interest in thus reducing the rate of wages to their tenants, by forcing the rest of the community to pay a part of them ; those tenants being thus enabled the better to pay the enormous rents which at that time were levied on their farms. It was at least a proceeding quite of a piece with that policy by which, londer the specious name of protection to British agriculture, the same gentle- men, in excluding foreign corn from our markets, consti- tuted themselves monopolists of the nation's bread. By the one expedient they got labour cheap, while by the other they were enabled to sell its products at prices enhanced by artificial scarcity. It took not many years to unfold the baneful effects oj this system. The poor-rates increased so alarmingly as to threaten, in many instances, to swallow up the i-ental entirely. In the year 1832, shortly before the reform eflFected by the New Poor Law, the amount expended in the relief of the poor for England and Wales, exceeded the enormous sum of seven millions. But though so much was in this way done for the poor, their condition appeared to be daily growing worse. Their rapidly increasing numbers seemed to mock all efforts to provide for them ; a fact, however, about which they, of all parties, appeared the least concerned. In the ten years from 1821 to 1831, the population advanced from about twelve to nearly fourteen millions. In the same time, the committals rose from about thirteen to above nineteen thousand. Among these crimes, a seemingly organized system of rural incendiarism excited especial apprehension. In short, the condition of the 214 FOLK-RENT. English poor, botb physical and moral, was becoming so deplorable and so alarming, that the public mind was at once equally impressed with the necessity and the diffi- culty of finding some remedy, At length, in the year 1832, of happy memory, the reform in the Commons' House of Parliament animated the public spirit of the nation, and led the way to Tarious other great and beneficent measures. Among the rest, in the year 1834, wa-s enacted that which is commonly called the New Poor Law. Yet this measure was, in efiect, not so much a change in the law itself, as in the mode and machinery of its ad- ministration. It took this almost entirely out of the hands of the magistrates and parish overseers, and trans- ferred it to boards of guardians, elected by the rate-payers in the several parishes, which, for this purpose, were combined in certain groups called unions. In each of these unions was built an ample and commodious worlc- house : it being contemplated, that as a test of real neces- sity, and a check to the growing disposition among the poor to rely on parochial aid, relief should, in future, as far as possible, be afforded only in this form. But as great difficulty was apprehended in correcting suddenly an evU which had grown inveterate, and the proposed change of system was regarded as somewhat experimental, the whole working of the new arrangements was placed under the superintendence of a central hoard of Commis~ sioners, who were empowered to make such bye-laws and regulations, as from time to time might appear necessary, and to act as a visiting and directing authority over the local boards of guardians. The most considerable practical change hitherto enforced by these commissioners is that of re/using in general GOOD EFFECTS OP THE NEW POOK LAW. 215 outodoor relief to dble^odied persons, which already, to a great extent, has had the intended effect of deterring that class of persons from seeking relief at all. For although it is certain that the inmates of our workhouses, though of course not at all intended to be pampered, enjoy on the whole more physical comforts than the same class of persons commonly do in their own cottages, yet experience has shown, that the confinement, the discipline, the dress, the separation from friends, and altogether the name and notion of the thing, create so much aversion to going into the house, that the poor for the most part do not embrace this alternative, except under pressure of real distress. Nor can it be doubted, that the present system of large workhouses under intelligent and efficient governors, has great advantages in the facilities which it affords for the due regulation and employment of the inmates in general, and especially for the education and industrial training of the young. To enter further into details on these matters would be unsuitable to the present occasion ; but I have no doubt that I express the general conviction of the country when I say, that the new poor law, as compared with the former system, has proved a great and salutary reform. It is a fact that within a few years of its enact- ment, the annual burden of pauper relief fell from above seven million pounds to between four and five, notwith- standing a contemporaneous increase of two millions in our population. From 1831 to 1841 the average amount of rate per head, on the population, fell from 9s. 9rf. to 6s. 2c?. We are also able to say, that it has pretty well demolished the frightful system of resorting to parish pay to eke out the wages of able-bodied labourers ; and in general, we may add, that parochial relief is now only 216 FOLK- RENT. in a small meastire expended on able-bodied persons at all, but is mainly directed to its more proper objects, the aged, sick, and infirm, the widows and orphans. " I am sick," writes Mr. Woolley, an assistant tithe commissioner, " of the pitiful cry attempted to be raised against the measure, and especially at the supposed inhumanity of it. Let any man see the straightforward walk the upright look of the labourer, as contrasted with what was before seen at every step in the southern coun- ties. The sturdy and idle nuisance has already become the useful and industrious member of society. No man who has not looked well into human nature, and the prac- tical working of the wretched system of pauperism, can form an idea how different is sixpence earned by honest industry, and sixpence wrung from the table of a parish officer." Still I apprehend that we ought by no means to rest satisfied with what has hitherto been done, but to seek further progress in the same direction, — that of limiting to tJte least practicable amount, the essentiaUy unsound and noxious system of compulsory cimrity. It is to be regretted, that, yielding to the claims of a mistaken or pretended philanthropy, our government and its agents have allowed themselves to be checked in the salutary course on which they had entered, and even been induced in some measure to retrace' their steps. The consequence has been, that whereas, under the new law, outodoor relief was intended to be the exception, and in-door relief the rule, we now see a result the reverse of this, and that increasingly. By the latest returns, the expense of outodoor relief over England and Wales exceeds that of in-door in the proportion of three to one ; while the whole sum expended in relief of the poor. ABOLISH SETTLEMENT AUD REMOVAL. 217 which in 1837 had fallen to four millions, has again augmented to above six. If the legitimate object of the poor law be to enable some persons to live at home in ease and comfort on rates levied on the industry of others, then is outodoor relief just the thing to serve our turn. But if that object be comprised in providing that no one shall remain destitute of the absolute necessaries of life, — or what is expressed in the phrase, that the law will not allow any one to starve, — then it will hardly be denied, that where a person has been received into a well-built house, and provided with bread and board, clothes and fire, that object has, to say the least, been very fully attained. It is my own decided conviction, confirmed by all that I have observed in acting for many years as a magistrate and guardian of the poor, that the only safe and useful principle, is to give relief, exclusively in the workhouse, except perhaps in the cases of persons disabled by sickness from being removed to it. It is further to be desired, that a great simplification should take place in the law of settlement, and such as would entirely supersede the practice of removal. A good step, indeed, was lately taken in this direction, by the enactment that no person should be removable from a parish where he had resided the five preceding years. But it is a general and growing opinion, that it would be far better to adopt at once the one simple rule, that every pereon entitled to relief should receive it in the parish where he resides ; and it appears a good suggestion of Mr. Pashley, that the expense should be divided between the parish and the common fund of the union. Such a law would to the poor be a Magna Gharta ; and the public would not only have the benefit of a free circulation of labour, but avoid the expense of much litigation ; while 218 FOLK-EEITT. guardians and parist officers would be saved a world of trouble, and whole shelves of henceforth useless law books would be sold for waste paper. Our own is not the only European country that has tried the experiment of a poor-law, or that has proved its demoralizing and dangerous tendency. In Sweden, Denmark, Prussia, Bavaria, Mechlenburg, Wirtemburg, Holland, Belgium, and the Swiss canton of Berne, ar- rangements have been adopted not differing essentially from our own : — that is, in failure of the resources of private charity, the poor have been allowed a legal claim to relief from public funds, administered by public officers, and generally distributed both in workhouses and out of doors. On all sides, however, we meet with testimonies to the occurrence of those bad consequences, which seem, as Mr. Porter says, " inseparable from the system of establishing a legal claim to relief on the part of the able-bodied poor." But however right and necessary it may appear thus to circumscribe the range of pauperism by a bold and decisive line, it is obvious that it would at the same time be proper to endeavour, in some way, to supply thefailwre which would thereby ensue in the accustomed resources of the poor. And here we might surely place much reliance on that clear and unfailing well of private charity, which the poor-laws have done so much to impair and supersede. On the withdrawal of outodoor relief from the rates, there would doubtless ensue a revival of bene- volent parochial funds, derived from collections at churches and private gifts. This was the good old way in England ; and in Scotland continued to be the regular and only re- source of the poor, till a few years ago. In the rural parts of France, and iu many other continental countries, it is so stilL PROVIDElfT SOCIETIES. 219 But though charity be sweet, and good in its place, I think that in the present case, what the poor want even more than charity, is justice : — they want to be encouraged and assisted in their prudent efforts to provide for them- selves ; and such assistance their country owes to them, if on no other ground, as a compensation, in some part, for their claims on the land. Among all the methods by which this end may be pursued, there is probably none so efficient and useful as the institution of what are commonly called ProvlderU, or Friendly Societies. These present some range of difference in their particvdar objects and regulations ; but they are all founded on one principle, — that of combining the obvious policy of laying by from the spare earnings of prosperous days for seasons of deficiency, — such as sickness, age, and death, — with the powerful mechanism oi mutual insurance ; — a resource at once wise and brotherly ; by which, without favour or charity, while each member consults only his own advan- tage, the strong do yet, in effect, bear the infirmities of the weak, and the funds to which all alike contribute, are distributed just among those who stand most in need. That the actual disposition of our working classes toward this kind of providence is very considerable, we have ample proof. It is stated by Porter that the num- ber of depositors in the savings' banks was, in 1851, above a million, and the amount of the deposits above twenty- eight million pounds. Again, the number of Friendly Societies, he states at above ten thousand, and the amount of investments in them at above three million pounds. Considering how ill the affairs of these clubs are com- monly managed, and how often they faU in their engage- ments, one may wonder that the people repose in them the confidence which they do. It is indeed a hard case, which we often see, — when a poor man, who has regularly 220 FOLK-BENT. made his payments for many years, is defrauded in his old age of the expected benefit, through the insolvency of his club. It is evidently a matter of the very first importance, that institutions of this kind should, like the Savings' Banks, he established systematically, by autlwrity of the legislatvjre, throughout the la/nd, managed by com- petent and responsible officers, and guaranteed from iiv- solvency by public securities. Let us suppose, by way of illustration, that in con- nexion with a national system such as we are contem- plating, there were opened a branch offixx, in every union. This office would be well known and easily accessible to all the poor within the union, its terms and regulations would be notorious, and its responsibility, being guaran- teed by the poor-rate, unquestionable. There would be no fear of failure in its engagements through defalcations or miscalculations, no wasting of its funds in alehouse convivialities. How great a boon would be conferred on the poor simply by such an accommodation ! But this is not all that might be done for them. To encourage their providence, why should not the allow- ances which they had assured for themselves be augmented by a liberal bounty derived from the poor-rates ? Sup- pose that every man who should have assured for him- self an allowance of eight shillings a week in sickness and age, were to have a bounty of 25 per cent, added to it, making it ten shillings a week, and every woman assuring four shillings a week, were in like manner to have it raised to five shillings. And to these bounties sup- pose there were also added a right to medical attendance in sickness. Such a measure, while it would be a graceful act of national generosity, and doubtless be received as such by the poor, and felt by them to be a substantial encouragement to prudence, would at the same time be a ENCOURAGE THEM BY A BOUNTY. 221 fine stroke of public economy. I believe, to say the least, that if accompanied with a regulation confining relief to the workhouses, it would reduce the charges of pauperism to one-third of their present amount. But let us come to a little calculation as to the probable expense of this proposed bounty. Let us sup- pose, to take the extreme case, that every man and •woman in the country should take advantage of our pro- posal. Let us say, that every man above twenty, with the help of our bounty, assures himself an allowance of ten shUUngs a week in sickness, till the age of sixty-five, and the same sum weekly after that age, whether sick or not ; and every woman in like manner five shillings a week. To every sick or old man, then, our offices would have to give a bounty of two shillings a week, and to every sick or old woman one shilling. Now it will be found by reference to their tables, that to assure such sums, the offices require premia amounting respectively to about ten shillings and five shillings in the year, sup- posing the payments to commence at the age of twenty. The present population of England and Wales is about eighteen millions, and the part of it between the ages of twenty and sixty-five about half that number, or nine millions, of course about equally divided between the sexes. We have, therefore, in efiect, to charge our poor- rate with an annual premium of ten shillings each for four and a-half millions of men, amounting to 2,250,000^. ; and with an annual premium of five shillings each for an equal number of women, amounting to 1,125,000^.; to- gether making 3,375,000?. But then we must consider that this reckoning includes the whole community, rich as well as poor, whereas we have to do with the poor only: we may therefore safely reduce this amount by one-third at least, and this brings our estimate of the total 222 FOLK-EENT. annual charge on the rates, in regard to the proposed ■provident bounty, to just two millions and one quarter. Something between two and three million pounds a year is, therefore, the utmost charge that could be in- curred by undertaking to give the whole body of our poor, every man and woman among them, the handsome encouragement to providence which we have supposed. But be it remembered, that for every shilling so given, they must have provided themselves with fowr, and to that extent have superseded the necessity of becoming chargeable to their parish. Can it be doubted, that in respect to the poor-rates, such a measure would not only be safe, but saving ? I fully believe, that even including the proposed bounty, the poor-rate would fall much below its present amount j — ^indeed, that it would not exceed five millions a year at the utmost. Meanwhile, what would it do, — or rather what would it not do, — for the poor themselves ? Cheaply should we purchase, for two or three millions a year, or even, if need were, double that sum, an almost depauperized people 1 If there is one certain truth in political economy, it is this : — that for pauperism, there is no effective remedy hvt the providence of the poor themselves. INHEBITANCE OF LAND. 223 CHAPTEE VIII. INHERITANCE OF LAND. That the land belonging to a State ought not to be en- grossed by a small number of possessors, but distributed, as generally as is practicable, among the body of the citi- zens, is no new doctrine, but is commended to us by the approval and adoption of the greatest legislators, and most illustrious nations, of antiquity. The principal mean by ■which it was sought to attain this end, was the enact- ment of a suitable law of inheritance. Instead of assign- ing, as has been for the most part the practice of modern Europe, the whole of a deceased father's estate to his eldest son, it was the rule of the ancients to divide it, equally, or nearly equally, among all the sons. In proof of this, we may first notice the venerable ex- ample of the ancient Hebrews. Having originally ordered an allotment to be made, out of the conquered lands of Palestine, to every family of the Israelites, Moses sought to maintain this arrangement in after ages, by a law of inheritance which distributed the paternal estate equally among all the sons, only reserving to the eldest a double share. In default of sons the property passed to the daughters ; and permanent alienation from the family was guarded against by the peculiar institution of the Jubilee. How far, indeed, and how long, the Jewish people maintained these regulations in practice, we are 224 INHERITANCE OP LAND. not clearly informed. That in progress of time they be- came much neglected, or evaded, we may probably infer from the denunciation of the prophet : " Woe to them that join house to house, that lay field to field, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the land." Isaiah, V. 8. The design of the Lawgiver, however, is as evi- dent as it is great and noble. He contemplated a people every family of which should, as far as possible, possess a heritable lot of land, and who should all live together as brethren, on a footing of honour and equality. The policy of Solon was similar to that of Moses. The Athenian law divided a father's lands equally among all his sons, or in failure of sons, among his daughters: — " which,'' as Blackstone observes, " had an admirable efiect in keeping up equality, and preventing the accumu- lation of estates." The Romans adopted the same princi- ple ; but leaning more to aristocracy, enforced it only in the case of the father having made no other disposition by will. We also learn from Tacitus, that the distribu- tion of the father's land among all his sons was the usage of the ancient Germans ; and the same practice, according to the opinion of Selden, Blackstone, and other eminent authorities, prevailed formerly in this island, among our ancestors, both British and Saxon : a fragmentary relic of which still survives, in certain parts, in the cusstom of gavelkind. We also find it stated, that from time immemorial, this principle of inheritance has prevailed in the vast empire of China. And though the civil condition of that country is not in all points to be admired, yet for a people living under an Asiatic despotism, it can hardly be denied, that the Chinese have been, on the whole, a great and prosperous nation. Turning to Christian nations, we find some in which PEASANTET OF NORWAY ABD SfflTZKRLAND. 225 the law of distributive inheritance has been retained from former times, and others among whom it has been lately adopted. Among the former is the sequestered people of Norway, of whose condition and manners a very interest- ing account has lately been given to the world by Mr. Laing. " In Norway," he writes, " the land is parcelled out into small estates, affording a comfortable subsistence, and in a moderate degree, the elegancies of life, but nothing more." He proceeds to state that in the year 1819, with a population of 910,000, there were in Norway 41,656 estates, which gives one estate to about every twenty-two of the inhabitants ; observing, by way of com- parison, that this proportion of landowners to the popula- tion is full ten times as great as is found in Scotland. Speaking of the condition of the people, he says : — " The good manners of the people to each other are very striking, and extend lower among the ranks of society than in other countries. There seem to be none so uncultivated or rude, as not to know, and observe among themselves, the forms of politeness. The brutality, and rough way of talking to and living with each other, characteristic of our lower classes, are not found here. * * It is pos- sible that the general diffusion of property, — the very labourers in husbandry possessing usually life-rents of their land, — may have carried down with it those feelings of self-respect, and consideration for others, which prevail among the classes possessing property, though of a larger extent, in other countries." We find a similar state of things, and connected with the same cause, in another wild and mountainous country, the cantons of SwUzerland. " C'est surtout la Suisse," says Sismondi, " qu'il faut parcourir, qu'il faut 6tudier, pour juger du bonheur des paysans propriltaires.'' A vivid sketch of the industry that prevails under this sys- Q 226 INHERITANCE OF LAND. tern, in an Alpine valley, is presented to us by an English writer. "In the whole of the Eugadine,'' or valley of the Inn, says Mr. IngUs, " the land belongs to the peasan- try. And generally speaking, an Eugadine peasant lives entirely upon the produce of his land, with the exception of the few articles of foreign growth required in his family, such as coffee, sugar, and wine. Flax is grown, prepared, spun, and woven, without ever leaving his house. He has also his own wool, whicli is converted into a blue coat, without passing through the hands of either the dyer or the tailor. The country is incapable of greater cultivation than it has received. In the whole Eugadine, the lowest part of which is not much lower than the top of Snowdon, there is not a foot of waste land. In no country of Europe will be found so few poor."* I may be permitted to add, that my own observations while travelling in Switzerland fully confirm these tes- timonies. I beheld generally among the Swiss peasantry, so much appearance of physical comfort and competence, combined with so much intelligence, good manners, be- coming self-respect and independence, as made me feel convinced that they were a happy people, and explained to me that love of their bleak mountain home for which they are so remarkable. Dear is that shed to which hia soul conforms, And dear the hill that lifts him to the stoi-ms ; And the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more. The same principle of distributive inheritance, with its attendant, peasant proprietorship, prevails in many other parts of the European continent, — in Denmark, Sweden, Holland, Flanders, in most parts of Germany, in Northern * Quoted in Mill's " Political Economy." DISTRIBUTIVE SYSTEM IN FRANCE. 227 Italy, and in France. And it is important to rematk, that in most of these countries, this principle has super- seded the old feudal system of primogeniture within the present century : yet, though the time of its operation has been so limited, the results, though varying of course with circumstances, have on the whole the same favourable character as those which we have noticed above. Thejr exhibit, in general, a highly improved and productive state of the land, and an industrious, thriving, well-con- ditioned peasantry, among whom pauperism and beggary are rarely to be seen. And it is a further most important particular, that by this system an effectual check appears everywhere to be imposed on the excessive growth of population. Among all these countries, that in which the experi- ment of the subdivision of the land has been made on the grandest scale, and pushed to the greatest length, is France. We see there a system the extreme opposite of our own, and which is, I think, pretty generally admitted to have been carried to some excess. Since the year 1800, the French law has imperatively divided all the property of a deceased father, whether lauded or personal, among all his children, daughters as well as sons, reserv- ing to his disposal by will only a single share. The con- sequence has been a very extensive distribution of landed property, the proprietors being at present reckoned to exceed five millions : and of these it is stated, that there are about four millions whose estates fall below twenty acres each, measuring on an average, according to M. de Chateauvieux, about eight acres and a luilf. " This system," observes Mr. Joseph Kaj', " was em- bodied by Napoleon and his ministers in the Code Na- poleon : and in whatever country the supremacy of the great emperor was established, there he, and his ministers, q2 228 INHERITANCE OF LAND. immediately introduced this law : so convinced were they of the enormous benefits which would accrue to the peasants from such a system, and of the popularity to be gained by the introduction of this change. Several countries, and among others, the Prussian Rhine pro- vinces, have retained these laws ever since ; and the peasants of those lands still bless the emperor's memory, for the vast boon he conferred on them.'' Though there may be room to question, whether the effects of the new system in France have been as beneficial as they might have been, if the principle of the subdivision of property had been adopted with more moderation, there is still no doubt or controversy, that if the present condition of the peasantry be compared with that in which they were found before the Revolution, when the land belonged chiefly to the nobles and the church, there will be seen a mighty change for the better. It is no- torious that at that time, the condition of the country labourers was as wretched as words could describe. Our own well kno'wTi and accurate Arthur Young represents them, from personal observation, as reduced to the lowest grade of poverty ; — ^badly fed, scarcely covered with i"ags, wretchedly housed, and only removed one step from famine, to which crowds fell victims in times of even moderate scarcity. All this is now changed, and the only question at issue is, whether the present condition of the French peasantry be better or worse than that of the corresponding class in England, who live under so very opposite a system. We may assume that those who raise this question, are to be understood as referring only to that portion of the French peasantry, who have inherited very small morsels : for surely none would compare the situation of the ordinary English labourer, — who has nothing to depend on but his poor pittance of weekly DISTEIBUTIVE SYSTEM IN FHANCE. 229 wages, and ia ever ready to fly to his parish when disabled but by a few days' sickness, — with that of a man who occupies ten or twenty acres of his own freehold land. But taken even as a whole, the case does not appear to be unfavourable to the French system. Their writers speak of the condition of their rural labourers generally, in terms which no well-informed Englishman would apply to those of his own country. M. Bertier, for instance, — reporting officially of a district of Brittany over which he presided, — says, that the diet of the people was " greatly improved, consisting of wheaten bread, butter, vegetables, and in good farms, '2i\ pounds of pork weekly to each person : adding that the clothing of the rural population is sub- stantial, and different for every season, and that persons in rags are very rarely seen." Buret, who visited Eng- land, prior to laying a report on pauperism before the Institute of France, observes that " in France there is poverty, but in England there is misery." The eloquent Sismondi writes thus : — " WhUe the condition of the agricultural labourers in England proceeds rapidly towards disorganization, the peasants of France are improving and rising in the social scale ; they are establishing their prosperity on a sure foundation ; and without giving up labouring with their own hands, they are enjoying gi-eat prosperity : they are also receiving intellectual cultivation, and are beginning, though but slowly, to avail themselves of the discoveries of science." * Nearly similar to the French law of inheritance, is that which has been generally adopted in the United States of America. With great reason, it is there regarded as one of the essential bulwarks of their national polity. Before quitting this part of my subject, I will mention * Kay. 230 INHERITANCE OF LAND. one further instance of the happy eflfects of small pro- perties, which occurs in our own Channel Isla/nds. I have myself visited them, and been much struck with their thriving and highly cultivated appearance. Look where one will, neatness and comfort seem to prevaiL Speaking of Guernsey, i-a.hisPlea for Peasant Proprietors, Thornton says : — " What most surprises the English visitor, in his first walk or drive beyond the bounds of St. Peter's Port, is the appearance of the habitations with which the land- scape is thickly studded. Many of them are such as in his own country would belong to persons of middle rank ; but he is puzzled to guess what sort of people live in the others, which though not large enough for farmers, are much too good for day labourers." These are in fact the dwellings of the peasant proprietors. Beggars are utterly unknown. The brief review which we have now taken of the practice of many nations, ancient and modern, and of the results which have ensued, leads, I think, strongly to this conclusion ; — that for effecting an equitable and salutary diffusion of property, there is found in the principle of the distributive inheritance of land, a method at once just, simple, and efficient ; a method founded in the constitu- tion of human society, congenial with the most natural sentiments, and altogether productive of the happiest effects, both on the economical and moral state of the people. That we may the more clearly be convinced of this, let us now briefly recount tlie results to which we have alluded. In the first place, though we have not hitherto, in any country, seen the land so generally and evenly distributed among the inhabitants, as would probably be ultimately desirable, yet we have seen this object actvuUy attained to a very great extent, and have no reason to doubt, that by perseverance in the same means, it might be attained still HAPPY KESULTS OF DISTRIBUTIVE INHERITANCE. 23 J more completely. Only let us compare for a moment the state of things in regard to landed property in our own country, where the old feudal system still prevails, with that of such neighbouring nations as have adopted the distributive principle. In England, with a population of eighteen millions, it is believed, that at the utmost, there are not above 200,000 proprietors of landed estates. Now counting, as is usual, on an average, five persons to a family, this gives less than one million persons who may be considered as partakers of landed property ; that is, one-eighteenth part of the whole population. Now in Norway, with a population of about 900,000, there would appear from Mr. Laing's statement, to be about 41,656 owners of land j representing as heads of families, about 200,000 persons, that is, above one-fifth of the whole. In Prussia, in a population of about twelve millions, we find about 600,000 landowners, representing three million persons, or about OTie/ourth of the whole. In France, containing a population of above thirty-five millions, there have been found to be above five millions of landed proprietors, representing, — even at the low average of four to a family, — no less than twenty million persons, that is four-sevenths, or 7nore than one-half of the whole population, directly interested in landed pro- perty. What a fact is here ! Here is indeed a rival, who, in the race of true civilization, has distanced us handsomely. So then, as a summary, the proportion of the population directly interested in landed property stands thus : — In France 1 in 2 Prussia 1 in 4 Norway 1 in 5 England 1 in 18 232 INHEKITANCB OF LAND. It further appears, that the system of small properties is attended with the happiest effects on the condition of the people, both economical and moral. All witnesses concur in bearing the strongest testimony to the admir- able industry of the peasant owners, which they describe as almost superhuman. The pleasure which they take in tilling and improving their little estates, seems to amount to a passion j and these estates are, in consequence, kept in such a high state of order and neatness, as likens them not so much to farms as gardens. In these labours all the fiimily partake, and by their united energies make ample amends for any disadvantages in other re-spects, under which the small culture, as compared with the grand, may possibly labour. The intelligence, too, of these peasants, in all that relates to their own affairs, is almost as much commended as their industry. They understand perfectly well the properest rotation of crops, and preparation of manures, and have a reason to give for all the steps which they take. Vheir/rugality and prudence are also very remarkable, and contrast strongly with the improvidence and recklessness of the future, which com- monly characterize day labourers. There can be no doubt that the cause which produces all these economic marvels, is that which Arthur Young not unfitly calls, the magic of property. " Give a man," says he, " the secure possession but of a bleak rock, and he will turn it into a garden." " Nothing," says Adam Smith, " can be more absurd, than to imagine that men in general should work less when they work for them- selves, than when they work for other people. A poor independent workman will generally be more industri- ous even than a journeyman who works by the piece. The one enjoys the whole produce of his own industry, the other shares it with his master !" * * " Wealth of Nations," vol. i. p. 113. HAPPY RESULTS OF DISTRIBUTIVE INHEEITANCE. 233 Peasantry thus distinguislied for industry and prudence, may reasonably be expected to be in a Jlowrishing tmd comfortable condition : and in fact, for the most part, they are found t* be so. Confessedly there are some cases where an excessive subdivision of the estates, an accumulation of debt, or other accidental causes, may make it otherwise ; but such is not the rule, but the ex- ception. " In general," says Councillor Eeichensperger,* " there can be no doubt, that in those countries where the land is subdivided, and where the division is not extremely small, the people are well fed, well clothed, highly civilized, both physically and mentally, and com- fortably housed." " Our agricultural writers," says Mr. Laing, " tell us, indeed, that labourers in agriculture are much better off as farm servants, than they would be as small proprietors. We have only the master's word for this. Ask the servant. The colonists told us the same thing of their slaves. If property is a good and desirable thing, I suspect that the smallest quantity of it is good and desirable ; and that the state of society in which it is most widely diffused, is the best constituted," But the happy effects .of the diffusion of property are observable, not only in an economical, but also in a moral and social point of view. Mr. Kay's review of the con- dition of the people of Germany, Switzerland, and other parts, demonsti-ates this by a mass of evidence, for which I gladly refer my readers to his interesting work. Among other good points, there appears to exist in these countries a remarkable respect for the rights of property, or what we call honesty. " The traveller does not see anywhere trespass signboards, or high orchard walls, or chained yard dogs ; but he will see the roadside hedges planted thickly and for miles along with rich fruit-trees, the property of those to whom the adjoining land belongs, * Quoted by Kay. 234 INHERITANCE OF LAND. whose fruit any passenger could gather with the greatest ease, but which flourish there untouched even by a school- boy." In fact, when a man possesses property himself, he learns to respect the property of others. Well would it be, if legislators, instead of enacting so many severe penal laws against theft, — which iu effect fall almost exclu- sively on the poorer classes, — would pay more attention to this truth. Nor less remarkable in these lauds, is the comparative absence of two vices, whose obtrusive prominence in our own, we have to confess with shame. The Grerman nation, like the British, is naturally fond of liquor, and no people on earth more enjoy a mug of beer : yet a drunken man is a rare spectacle. Whether there be in reality less female depravity on the continent than in this country, it might be hard to determine ; but as- suredly that grossly disgusting form of it which disgraces the larger towns of Britain, is almost peculiar to our- selves. It has been weU observed, that nothing affords a truer criterion of the moral condition of a people, than their amusements. In Germany the recreations of the conrnwn people are eminerdly social and refined. A cultivated taste for music is universal, forming a part of the general education. Pleasure-gardens are to be found in every town and village, which are the habitual resort of all classes of the inhabitants. Here are given frequent con- certs and dances, and as the price of admission is very low, these assemblies embrace all ranks. Nobles and peasants, merchants and shopkeepers, officers and privates, with their wives and daughters, sit mingled together, drinking their coffee, and listening to the music. It is the good manners of all classes, that make such association practicable and agreeable. Again, speaking of the rui-al OPPOSITE CONDITION OF ENGLAND. 235 population, Mr. Kay says, " An Englisliman, taken to the markets, fairs, and village festivals of Switzerland and Germany, would scarcely credit Ms eyes, were he to see the peasant girls who meet there to join in the festivities ; so much more ladylike are they than those of our country parishes, in their appearance, manners, and dress." Alas, my country ! Alas, for once merry England ! We seem to have lost the art of being happy. The innocent mirth of the land is gone. The recreations of the working people are now sought in the ale-house or the gin-shop. The village greens are enclosed. The rural pastimes are fled. The yeomanry, — once the pride of our counties, by whom these festivities were supported, — have nearly disappeared : their number diminishes daily. Aristocratic state, and servile indigence, combine to spread dulness and gloom throughout the land. Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose. Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose ; And every want to luxury allied. And every pang that folly pays to pride. Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene, Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green, These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. Deserted ViUage. Among the good effects which are observed, on the continent, to arise from the subdivision of the land, com- bined as it is with a general good education of the people, none is more important than the growth of prudential habits among the labouring classes, imposing a salutary check on excessive population. Mr. Kay's remarks on this point are so much to the purpose, that I cannot for- bear to quote them. " I have no doubt," he says, " in my own mind, that the effect of the subdivision of land, after it has proceeded 236 INHERITANCE OF LAND. to such a length that the smallest of the estates is suffi- cient to support a peasant's family in comfort, is to retard the too rapid increase of population more than any scheme which could be invented, and to retard it in a thoroughly healthy manner. " Among the middle classes, with us, a young man will not generally marry as soon as he becomes his own master, if he perceives that by waiting, he will be able to secure for his wife and himself a more comfortable position in society. " But among our lower classes no such thought inter- feres with marriage. As soon as a young peasant can earn his miserable pittance of from seven to nine shillings a week, he marries. What good; in the present state of our laws, would he . gain, if he deferred his marriage ? None, which is perceptible to his understanding. He knows that if he could save,, he would not be able to make use of his capital. He knows that all avenues of rising in the world in his own native village are barred to him. He knows that he must die in the same position in which it pleased God he should be bom. Having therefore no incentive to self-denial, he practises none. He marries as soon as he can, -and generally by so doing, soon increases his own difficulties, and the poor-rates of his parish. "But abroad the. peasants know, that if they wait a few years and save, they and their future wives and fami- lies will be happier, more respected among their neigh- bours, and that they will realize their day dream, and call a small farm their own. It is not surprising, then, that the peasants do not marry so young in foreign countries as they do here." Of the comparative lateness of marriage here alluded to, we may take a few examples. In Switzerland, in the canton of Argau, men never marry before the age of A SALUTARY CHECK ON POPULATION. 237 twenty- five. In that of Vaud, the average age of marriage for men is from thirty to thirty-two, and for women about twenty-eight. In Prussia it is stated, that the average age of marriage in men is about thirty-five. Now in England, by the latest returns, it appears that men, on an average, marry at twenty-seven, and women at twenty- five. Moreover, it is notorious, that on the continent, the nvmber of children to a marriage is generally decidedly less than in this country. All these things considered, we cannot be surprised to find, that there is a marked difierence between- ourselves and our neighbours, in the rate of increase in population. In fact this increase in Great Britain appears, with the exception only of Hun- gary, to be about the most rapid in Europe, the population having about doubled itself within the first half of the present century ; — and the increase in the ten years ending 1851 having been about 11 per cent. — whereas in France, the country in which the subdivision of land has been carried farthest, the increase of population has been about the slowest in Europe, averaging by the latest returns below 6 per cent in ten years. So utterly baseless is that dream of what Dr. Chalmers calls, " the headlong deterio- ration in the circiunstances of the people," which, as he fancies, may be expected to result from the propagative tendencies of an agrarian population. Mill says : " I am not aware of a single authentic instance which supports the assertion, that i-apid multiplication is promoted by peasant properties.'' So far indeed is this from being the case, that when the subdivision of land is combined with good education, both reason and experience warrant us in regarding it as the one main remedy which it is in human power to oppose to that great and threaten- ing evil : — the single star of hope, which among so many 238 INHEHITANCE OF LAKD. failing projects, still sheds a cheerful ray over the dark and swelling ocean of man's futurity. Having now surveyed the institutions of many nations, both ancient and modern, and beheld sundry examples in which equitable arrangements, in respect to the distri- bution of landed property, have been tried, with very happy results, we are prepared, I trust without presump- tion, to trace the outlines of such a system as may be presumed worthy of adoption. That law of inheritance then, which of old was adopted by the most renowned and venerable lawgivers, by Moses for the Hebrews, by Solon for the Athenians, and is like- wise in our own day commended to us by the practice of many enlightened and prosperous nations, appears to be at once that which is most agreeable to reason, and most beneficial in its effects. It is that which, as its general principle, enacts the division of a deceased father^s lands equaUy ainong all his S07is. This is a provision, which, by a sure, though gentle and gradual operation, tends to distribute landed property as generally and equably throughout the community, as experience shall show to be desirable. And it has this advantage, that it can be introduced in any country, at any time, without involving anything violent or revolutionary. There is notliing in it savouring of confiscation or spoliation. No man can ever reasonably complain, that at his death, the law will dis- tribute his landed property among his own children. There is nothing here that disturbs the pre-existing rights, or relative importance of families. Each family keeps its own. The law merely restrains, in the father, a power which, in right and reason, it ought never to have allowed him : — that of arbitrarily disinheriting his younger sons, in order to gratify family pride by the exclusive exalta- tion of the eldest. No doubt, our existing system is con- SOME PRIVILEGE FOR ELDEST SON. 239 genial enough with the sentiments of aristocracy : but it is no real praise, to say that it is adapted to maintain pretensions which are essentially arrogant and unjust. It appears desirable, therefore, in the matter of the inheritance of land, to abolish, with a small reserve to be presently mentioned, the privilege of primogeniture, and to divide the paternal estate equally among all the sons ; or in failure of sons, among the daughters. But why, it may be asked, iexclude the daughters at all ? For this simple reason. Society is to be considered as made up oi families ; our object is, therefore, as far as possible, to secure a portion of land to each family. The natural head of every family is a man, — the husband, the father. If therefore a portion of land be secured for him, it is sufficient ; for it is not for the benefit of himself alone, but of his wife and children likewise. The whole coramuniby, speaking generally, is thus provided for, while an unnecessary subdivision of the land is avoided. In this way, too, the lands of each family will better be kept together, being prevented from passing by the mar- riage of daughters, into other names. It is also to be observed, that the law of Moses does not wholly disallow the superior claim of the eldest son. Though it does not permit him to swallow up everything, as we do, it yet allots him a double portion. And when his natural and necessary position, as head of the family and representative of the deceased father, is considered, this privilege does not appear unreasonable. There is a further limitation of our general rule sug- gested to us by the French law. In the subdivision of the estate, there is reserved to the father, by the Code Napoleon, the absolute disposal by will of 07ie share. If I may venture to express an opinion on this point, it would be, that this provision might with advantage be 240 INHERITANCE OF LAND. even further extended, perhaps as far as to a third of the whole. It has been regarded as a serious objection to the French system, that it tends in too great a degree to de- prive the father of that moral influence over his children, which on the whole is likely to be exercised for their benefit. The margin allowed by such a liberal reserve to the father as that suggested, would also much facilitate his carrying out the provisions of the law in the testa- mentai-y subdivision of the remainder of the estate among his children. The only further limitation which this law of distri- butive inheritance appears to require, is one which has respect to the size of the estate, and goes to prevent a too minute subdivision of the lamd. It is in fact acknow- ledged by many of the warmest advocates of small pro- perties, and it is a principal theme of objection on the part of the opponents of that system, that the subdivision has, in many instances, run to an inconvenient and hurt- ful extent, of which France especially is cited as an example. And in several countries, as in Bavaria and Nassau, certain legal limits have been actually imposed on this process. The principle for such limitation re- commended by Mill and others, is, that compulsory divi- sion shall not be carried so far as to reduce the estates below such a measu/re of ground os is sufficient to give con- stant employment to a peasant wnd his family. As, to the precise measure of ground which would best fulfil this condition, I cannot take on me even to oflTer an opinion : and it would vary in different countries. I imagine, however, that for this country, we might not be very wide of the mark, if we should suppose it fixed at ten acres. That such an allowance of land to a family, considered as a minimum, is not too low, may probably be inferred from the fact, already stated, that the four MINXJTE SUBDmSION LIMITED. 241 million small proprietors of France are possessors, on an average, of only eight and a half acres : while in Flanders, the proprietary occupation of six acres is stated to be common, and one by which a man, with a wife and family, can live well. On the other hand, that this limit of ten acres is, for the purpose in view, low enough, may be in- ferred from the consideration, that the area of England, as compared with its present population, is about suffi- cient to afford an estate of that extent to every one of its fe,milies. In saying this, however, it is not intended to suggest, that any such general and uniform distribution of the land of England is ever likely to be actually rea- lized, or even that it is desirable ; but only to indicate distinctly, what the proposed system, in its full working, would be capable of effecting. Howslowly that result would be approached, how far beyond all actual attainment it would probably ever lie, may be judged from the fact, that in France, where a much more stringent law of subdivi- sion than that here proposed, has now been in daily opera- tion for above half a century, about three-quarters of the soil still remain occupied by estates which average some ninety acres each. So much then for the law of inheritance. But it is not to this alone, however well devised, that we must look as a sufficient mean of diffusing landed property throughout the community. It is also essentially neces- sary, that every pra^ticahle faxilUy should he given to the a^uisition of land by pwrchase. Hitherto, in this coun- try, we may truly say, that it looks as if it had been the aim of the law to obstruct and discourage this process in every possible way. Such has been the intricacy and subtlety introduced into our system of title and con- veyance, as to make it difficult, in many cases, for a man to know whether his estate is truly his own or E 242 INHERITANCE OF LAND. not : while the great expense of transfer, enhanced by heavy stamp duties, has made it altogether unsuitable to small estates and small purchasers. Investment in laud has consequently become one of the last modes in which the small tradesman, or provident workman, thinks of securing his savings. This is very much otherwise on the continent. There the title to land is for the most part simple, and the con- veyance cheap. No man can tie up his land by intricate limitations, entails, and reversions, in the manner allowed in England, Whether by will or transfer, the owner can, in general, do no more than convey away, briefly and simply, the whole of his own interest to the successor whom he names ; to whom therefore the estate passes unincumbered, and who in turn is ready to sell it again in the same condition. There are also in every province of these countries proper courts, where every document and transaction affecting" the ownership of land is registered, so that a purchaser is always able, easily and cheaply, to obtain every information which he requires in this respect : and he knows, that no concealed conveyance, mortgage, or incumbrance, of any sort, can turn up after- wards and aflfect his title. Now such fe,cilities for the transfer of landed property, are just what we want There can be no doubt that with us, as with our Grerman neighbours, the conveyance of land might be rendered almost as simple and cheap as that of public stock, or railway shares. Land would then become with us, as it is with them, the favourite investment of the savings of all classes ; and the possession of it would afford pleasure, and comfort, and patriotic pride, to an ever-increasing portion of our population. Indeed it is the opinion of many, that with suitable facilities of transfer, the distribution of land would be ERROR OP REFORMERS. 243 effected to a sufficient extent, even if the compulsory subdivision of the paternal estate were confined to those cases in which there was no testamentary disposal of it ; — which is what is done in Norway and Prussia ; — and it is but fair to state, that Mill, Kay, and other writers of eminence, express a preference to the system of those countries over that of France. I cannot however help thinking, even in opposition to such names, that if the process in question be really a good thing, there is no just reason why it should not be quickened and ensured by the uniform pressure of the law, rather than be left sub- ject to all manner of obstruction and irregularity, from the caprice of individuals and family pride. Unless this be done, those vast blocks of property which engross so much of our country's soil, may yet remain unbroken for ages to come. It is also to be observed, that what it is proposed to enforce, is, after all, only a law of posthu- mous distribution, which, be it what it may, can deprive no one of the power to effect, during his life, whatever arrangements he chooses. Such then are the boons which, in regard to this matter, philanthropy has to seek at the hands of the legislature. The prospect of obtaining them, in this country, appears indeed to be distant and uncertain : yet let us not be discouraged, but trust, that in the British senate, the claims of justice and humanity will at length prevail. It is, I think, to be regretted, that the zeal of our political reformers expends itself so much in seeking organic changes in the constitution, rather than the im- provements which are required in those laws and institu- tions which immediately affect the condition of the people. For these are the ends, toward which the best forms of government are but means. Do we not in fact, in this very instance, behold the comparatively despotic R 2 244 INHERITANCE OF LAND. governments of the continent working better for the people than our own freer constitution 1 It is thus that in our party strifes, we grasp at the shadow and miss the substance : a folly alike observable both in the poKtical and religious contentions of mankind. Our poet teaches us better : — " For fonns of government let fook contest ; Whate'er is best administer'd is best. For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right." Before concluding this essay, it seems proper to notice one or two objections, which the proposal of the sub- division of landed property has commonly to encounter. One of these objections is, that small estates are unfa- vourable to agricultv/re. Now as a general assertion, this seems to be sufficiently refuted by actual experience in various countries. In Belgium for instance, and Switzer- land, the farming, judged by its productiveness, is on all hands allowed to be of a high order. In Jersey, the average yield of wheat, for the five years ending in 1833, is stated officially to have been at the rate of forty bushels to the acre. The richest soils in England hardly surpass this j yet Jersey is but a mass of granite. But the ob- jectors rely chiefly on the case of France. That French agriculture, in a general view, is less advanced than our own, and that its products, taken by the acre, are consi- derably below ours in quantity, is certainly not to be disputed. To this fact we have, among others, the tes- timony of a very intelligent Frenchman, who writes from personal investigation both in his own country and in ours. In his recent work on the " Rural Economy of the British Isles," M. Lavergne says of England : — "That small country, which is no larger than a fourth of France, alone produces thirteen million quarters of wheat, six of SMALL ESTATES NOT UKFAVOTJBABLE TO AGEICULTtJEE. 245 barley, and twelve of oats. If France produced in the same ratio, her yield, deducting seed, would be fifty million quarters of wheat, and seventy of barley, oats, and other grain : — equal to at least double her present pro- duction. And considering the nature of our soil and climate, both much more favourable to cereals than those of England, we ought to obtain more. * * The animal produce alone of an English farm is equal in value to at least the total produce of a French farm of equal area, all the vegetable production being additional." But however unfavourably French agriciUture may appear in comparison with that of England, it must not be forgotten, that when compared with itself before the revolution, it confessedly exhibits a vast improvement. And this is to say, that it has greatly improved since the introduction of the small estates, and certainly therefore can afibrd no fair argument against them. And let it be considered, that the comparative backwardness of French agriculture is not confined to the small morselments, but extends over the soil in general, though the greater part of it is stUl occupied by estates of ample, or even large size. French agriculture has doubtless been retarded not a little by the many political troubles which of late years have agitated and distressed the country : something also in this matter is probably to be ascribed to the natural character of the nation. The French people, it is well known, are of a gay and pleasure-loving turn, and in industrial progress are generally found somewhat behind their more plodding neighbours of the Teutonic race. But after all, and admitting the bad economy of an extremely minute agriculture, it by no means follows that such a charge will apply to the proposal which we have had under our consideration. The smallest estates 246 INHERITANCE OF LAND. there contemplated -were not below ten acres, and by the reserves in favour of the fiither and eldest son, no com- pulsory division could take place of estates smaMer thorn forty-five o/cres. Even under the French law, there is good evidence that the process of subdivision has already reached its limit, and is even tending to retrograde. To this effect, among others, we have the testimony of Gasparin, quoted by Kay. " It is true," he says, " that the number of pro- perties increases year by year ; but one perceives that this division is effected at the cost of the greater estates : the smaller plots do not generally subdivide any further. Although some foolish fellows here and there, when they inherit a share of a little plot, demand to have it divided, yet the generality of the people understand very well the evil of an estate of great circumference, but of very small contents. In these cases, they generally effect an arrange- ment ; one man takes the whole property, or else one of the prosperous neighbours purchases it, and adds it to his own estate ; so that what the system of division had for- merly separated, is again consolidated : and the estates asstime such a middling size as best suits the real interests of the people." We are also accustomed to hear most melancholy fore- bodings of the disastrous consequences which must ensue, if,hj & change of system, we should lose our great landed gentry. A territorial aristocracy seems indeed to be re- garded by many, as quite an essential element in national prosperity. Among other services, it is fancied that they confer many benefits on their tenants and labourers, and the mral population in generaL Of course this is not pre- tended to apply to that portion of our landlords, unfortu- nately not a small one, w^ho have a taste for non-residence; and who, feeling no interest in their estates otherwise than SUPPOSED BENEFITS OP A TERRITORIAL ARISTOCRACY. 247 as sources of rent, commit the peasantry who cultivate them to the tender mercies of agents and middle-men. What comes of that system, let the history of Ireland declare. But a resident country gentry is another thing ; and when well disposed, are likely to be useful. Amid a peasantry consisting of tenant-farmers and day-labourers, what Chalmers says may be true : " That symptoms of a taste for the comforts and decencies of life are most fre- quent and conspicuous around the habitations of our rural aristocracy." But it is also true, that there are many resident land- lords in whose favour so much cannot be said. There are those, and not a few, who are tyrants over their little domains, and imperious dictators to their neighbourhoods ; whose concern is but little shown for the comfort and im- provement of their poor dependents, but rather for mak- ing them subservient to their own pride and pleasure ; whose hounds and horses make ruthless havoc of the farmers' crops ; whose game preserves fill the country with crime and outrage ; whose wanton sons and lacqueys seduce and betray cottage innocence ; who glory in closing public paths ; whose splendid mansions import into the country all the luxuries and corruptions of cities, and flout the homely dwellings of the rustic with unseemly contrast ; who, without shame or compunction, avail themselves of their position to practise on the political independence of those whose votes they aiTogantly claim a right to control ; thus undermining at once the morals of their neighbours and the liberties of their country. Were the characters of our country gentlemen less fre- quently disfigured by traits of this kind, their utility as a class of citizens would be less questionable. Far be it that we should undervalue the merits of the many excellent nobles, knights, and squires, scattered over 248 INHERITANCE OF LAND. our land, and some of whom are to be found, in almost every neighbourhood, endeavouring really to act the part of friends and benefactors toward those around them. Such men show that they are as mindful of the duties of property as of its rights : they enjoy the esteem which they deserve, and their conduct brings honour to their class. Still we cannot acknowledge, even in these facts, an ar- gument for great estates ; for to usefulness of this kind the possession of such is by no means necessary. It is as likely to be found in a man of modest means, — if only he be intelligent and benevolent, cultivating his own farm, and living on a friendly and &miliar footing among his rural neighbours, — as in the lord of ten parishes. Perhaps, indeed, more so : for such a man will be likely to be more steadily resident, to understand his neighbours better, and be better understood by them, to feel more sympathy with their joys and sorrows, and to know better how to help them. Admitting, therefore, that good landlords are good things, the argument is stiU in favour of a mo- derate division of property, which, splitting the great owner into a number of not less useful smaller ones, multiplies the benefit, whatever it be, ten or a hundred fold. But whatever benefits may be derived from the resi- dence of wealthy landlords among dependent tenants and their labourers, it appears evident, as a matter of fact, that it can never raise their condition to a level with that of a peasantry who till their lands in their own right, and rejoice in having no landlords at all : which is the point with which we have to do. The testimony from all sides supports the same conclusion, that the peasantry are nowhere so happy, intelligent, and virtuous, as where they cultivate their own little properties. Biit there is a common opinion, that a ■powerful landed SUPPOSED BENEFITS OF A TERRITORIAL ARISTOCRACY. 249 wristocracy is the natural and only sure foundation for a stable government ; — the only reliable guarantee of peace and order. " We would have,'' says Dr. Chalmers, " a king upon the throne, not rising like a giant among the pigmies, or as an unsupported Maypole in the midst of a level population, but borne up by a splendid aristocracy, and a gradation of ranks shelving down to the basement of society." " We doubt," he adds, " if the other monar- chy could stand." Very good ! But we may remark, that this idea of a level population, however familiar a bugbear it may be to many minds, is quite foreign to the scheme which we have been considering. Nay, it is even probable that, under a system of distributive inheritance, the social pyramid, as it is phrased, would be broader based, and better proportioned, than it is at present. For truly, as matters stand, the great mass of our poor and working classes is really spread out like a level, and that a very dead and low one ; and from this level our splen- did aristocracy, with its monarchical crown, rises not so much like a pyramid shelving gradually from its base, as a Chinese pagoda springing abruptly from its platform. But in countries where property is more generally and evenly distributed, this is otherwise. The scale of ranks rises more gently and symmetrically, and in consequence the social edifice is, without a doubt, not only more grace- ful, but more secure. Nor even if it be held that a landed aristocracy is requisite, in order to furnish suitable mate- rials to form a ruling class, and sustain the great offices of the State, let it be supposed that such countries are deficient even in this. We learn from M. Lavergne that even in France, notwithstanding the stringent system of subdivision which has been in operation there for above half a century, there are now about 100,000 landed pro- prietors who pay upwards of 300 francs of direct taxes. 250 INHERITANCE OP LAND. and whose fortunes average those of the mass of the Eng- lish proprietors; and about 1000 large proprietors, who in extent of domain rival the second grade of English landlords. He says also, that many properties are being reconstituted in France, and that the assessment shows that the increase in the number of the large estates is greater than in that of the small. It may also deserve observation, that between the state of the crown, and that of the aristocracy, there must needs be some analogy. If that of the latter be splendid, it behoves that that of the former to be still more so ; and the nation must pay for it accordingly : but if the style of the nobles be frugal and modest, then the royal dignity also may be maintained without great extravagance. We are not now at leisure to consult the testimony of history, as to what has really been the influence of wealthy aristocracies on the stability of governments, and the maintenance of social order. Assuredly it has not always been in their favour. In any case, it must be admitted, that the attainment of these desirable objects does not depend exclusively on the will of the upper classes, but somewhat also on the disposition and conduct of that comparatively poor and laborious multitude, who always form the bulk of the body politic. If these be dis- tressed and discontented, the State cannot be tranquil. "Most of the crimes," says the historian Gibbon, "which disturb the internal peace of society, are produced by the restraints which the necessary, but unequal, laws of pro- perty have imposed on the appetites of mankind, by con- fining to a few the possession of those objects that are coveted by many."* Meanwhile this is certain, that from the countries * Vol. i. p. 137. CONSERVATIVE TENDENCY OF SMALL PKOPRIETORS. 251 ■where the system of the subdivision of land prevails, we get one strong and united testimony, as to the conserva- tive and orderly disposition with which it inspires the working classes. On this point Mr. Kay expresses him- self thus : — " Another of the many and great advantages arising from the cultivated intelligence of the peasants of Germany, Switzerland, and Holland, and from the sub- division of land among them, is that all the peasant pro- prietors of these countries are naturally, from their position, adverse to rash and ill-considered political changes, and to political agitation ; and all are rendered strongly conser- vative in character, so that the majority of the people, instead of the minority, are interested in the cause of order and public tranquUlity." Some may be inclined to object, that the recent events of French history disprove this assertion. But Louis Napoleon knew with whom he had to deal. He had the sagacity to discern, that the people were willing to sub- mit even to the oppression of a strong hand, rather than be plunged in a chaos of anarchy and spoliation. " The country districts of France," says Michelet, " with their millions of peasant proprietors, have formed, so to speak, the Mount Ararat of the revolution." It is true, that military despotism in France, and elsewhere, availed itself of the reaction in favour of order, to effect the suppression of freedom ; and replaced the fear of anarchy by the reality of tyranny. But let us hope that this gloom is destined soon to be dispersed, and that a calmer and brighter day is at hand, when both rulers and people shall have learnt from adversity some much needed lessons of wisdom and mode- ratioru Let us pray for our country, that it may be given, both to our upper and lower classes, to understand their mu- tual dependence, and be united for the common weal. 252 INHEUITANCE OP LAND. The nobility of England has long enjoyed a position of privilege and honour, such as is conceded to no other hereditary aristocracy throughout the world. But wiU this proud pre-eminence last for ever ? It was the child of conquest ; its youth was nursed in embattled castles ; its manhood clothed itself in coat of mail, and riding forth at the head of its armed liegemen, was the maker and maintainor, rather than the servant, of the sovereign, whose only strength was in its support. Times now are changed. Kings and emperors no longer summon steel- clad feudatories, but rely on the bayonets of mercenary myriads, who know no lord but their employer. Nobility has now no strength of its own ; it lives but by a charter and a name. The wrecks of its ancient privileges, together with those of popular freedom, strow the shores of many nations. What shall save the aristocracy of Britain from being in like manner overwhelmed, between the contending floods of despotism and democracy, which on either hand assail it 1 Its only hope, as it appears to me, is in a generous and cordial alliance with the people. Let it not wrap itself up in class privileges, but hold them as trusts for the service of its country.* So, haply, may a united nation be favoured to defeat the instinctive policy of official despotism, which ever aims at subjecting both estates to its will, by setting them against one another. But especially does it behove our aristocracy to make for itself that best of friends, a thriving, intelligent, self- * There too much clings to our peerage an idea, that they sit in Parliament by their own right, rather than by the will of the people. An evidence of this appears in their practice of voting by proxy. Surely it is most indecent, nay, absolutely insulting to the nation, that men whom it has so generously distinguished by its confidence, should show such contempt for their duties, aa to presume to vote on public questions, when they have not even given themselves the trouble to attend their discussion. CONCLUSION. 253 respecting, patriotic peasantry. Let them not undervalue that sturdy, hundred-armed Briareus, that genuine child of heaven and earth, fresh and lusty with the vigour of his mother, full of courage and loyalty, the surest pillar of the_State, the most adamantine bulwark that can be erected, both against invasion from without and disaffec- tion at home. It is an evident truth, that the super- structure of society can in no way so well be strength- ened, as in extending and improving its base. There is one view of the subject, which, if justice and humanity should plead in vain, may not perhaps appear to our ruling classes unworthy of their notice. How does our present system of large estates, with tenant-farmers, and day-labourers, affect our frveans of national defence ? Will it, in point either of numbers or quality, prove as efficient in supplying our armies with recruits, as the oppo- site system pursued in Switzerland, Germany, and France 1 Will the enfeebled and demoralized artisans of our manu- facturing towns be found efficient substitutes for that hardy peasantry, and sturdy patriotic yeomanry, whom our laws and landlordism are now busy in clearing from the soil, as if they were vermin ? Heaven send, that Britain may not miss their strong arms, and loyal hearts, in her hour of need ! Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey. Where wealth accumuhites and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish or may fade ; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied. I think I cannot better conclude this essay, than in adopting the words of a late worthy man, and judicious author. " The writer," he says, " of these pages makes no pretensions to a knowledge of the minute details of legis- 254: INHERITANCE OP LAND. lation. It is his buaiaess, in a case like this, while en- forcing the end, only to suggest the means. Other and better means of diminishing the inequality of property, than those which have just been alluded to, may probably be discovered by practical men. But of the end itself, it becomes the writer of morality to speak with earnestness and with confidence." * * Jonathan Dymond, on " Christian Morality. " ON FEEEDOM. 255 CHAPTEE IX. ON FEEEDOM ; OR, BROTHERLY LOVE IN THE STATE. In contemplating the recorded conduct of ruling powers toward their subjects, and the state of feeling commonly manifested among the latter in return, one can hardly help being struck with the harsh and arbitrary character prevailing in the one, and the absence of true confidence and loyalty in the other. Rulers seem to be too much in the habit of considering the mass of mankind as a flock kept for the benefit of their owners; just so far to be nourished and overseen, that they may yield milk, and fleece, and other good things to their keepers ; and in the meantime, to be restrained from inconvenient unruliness by sharp coercion. The people, on the other hand, are apt to think of the government, as of a grasping and oppres- sive power, from which they have much more to fear than to hope ; careless of their rights and happiness, but greedy of their goods. Nor indeed can we wonder, that no very pleasant ideas are connected in their minds, with an agency which they observe chiefly in the forms of the tax-gatherer, the policeman, and the jailer. How different would have been the aspect of human affairs, had the potentates of the earth been accustomed to consider, that those whom they call their subjects are also their brethren, and entitled to be treated with all the honour and kind- ness due to that relation ! 256 ON FREEDOM. Civil government has its origin in the weakness and necessities of mankind ; and its only rightful object is the protection and benefit of those subjected to it. Hence it is the duty of the State, while it protects the person and property of the citizen from the aggression of other parties, to see that it do not itself lay on him any further burdens or restraints than such as are truly and justly required, either for his own benefit, or the public good. Something of private right and natural liberty must, no doubt, be foregone by the members of civilized communi- ties, in consideration of the great benefit which, in that capacity, they receive. But in demanding such sacrifices from their subjects, two points require the attention of the governing powers : — First, that the sacrifices required he only those hy which the public weal will really be promoted ; and, — Secondly, tJiat they be not greater than the private citizen may reasonably be expected to make for the object proposed. It is not right, for instance, through what are called protective duties on foreign corn, to make the people pay an increased price for their bread ; because the object, in this case, is not the benefit of the public, but of a class only. Again, it is unjust, with a view to the cheaper and readier manning of the navy, forcibly to imjjress into the service the sailors of merchant vessels ; because the grievous injury thus inflicted on these unoffending men is not demanded by any actual necessity for so harsh a proceeding. It can seldom be righteous, thus to offer up the private citizen as a victim for the community ; and it must ever be the study of a good and enlightened ruler, to harmonize the greatest possible amount of public weal, with its most equable diffusion among all the mem- bers of society. I am not unaware that a doctrine has been advocated, NO SOCIAL CONTRACT. 257 by which the plea for so scrupulous a regard to private right in political matters, has been supposed to be super- seded. It is imagined that men enter the political body as voluntary parties to what has been called, the social contract ; and that in so doing they make a virtvial sur- render of all their private or natural rights, in favour of the community. Hence, it is argued, that no amount of sacrifice which may be demanded of private citizens can be unjust, if it be for the public good, seeing that they are pledged to it by the terms of an agreement which they have willingly made. But though this idea of a, social contract comes commended to us by the sanction of the venerable Locke, and adorned by the eloquence of Kousseau, it is a certain truth, as has already been re- marked, that the whole affair is a sheer fiction : no suck transaction ever did take place, or ever could. Is it not perfectly obvious, that a man is subjected to the penal and coercive operation of his country's laws, without a single question as to his willingness to be so governed, having ever been put to him t And is it not equally certain, that were he seriously to protest against the justice of this proceeding, he would simply make himself ridiculous 1 What then, it may be asked, is the real origin and foundation of civil government. I fancy, that of a plain, broad, practical affair, like this, an exposition which is not very subtle or refined, is likely to be the justest, as well as the most intelligible. Civil government arises variously in various circum- stances, — patriarchal, nomadic, agricultural, colonial, — "but speaking generally, I think we may say, that it is an exercise of power on the part of some portion of the community, be they more or fewer, enforcing on the whole such laws and institutions as appear to them good s 258 ON FREEDOM. in respect of the general welfare. But because it is not so much a matter of convention as of power, does it therefore follow that it is destitute of right, — a mere tyranny and oppression 1 By no means. That is the extreme theory of democracy, but it is fallacious. The right of rulers to govern, in whatever form, is the right of power to exert itself for just and good ends ; nor is it essentially different from that which, by the law of nature, every individual possesses, to assist another man in asserting his rights or repelling wrong. If in passing by the way, I find my neighbour attacked by robbers, is it not both my right, and my duty, to aid him in beating them off, with whatever violence may be necessary ? Or if his ox or his ass be found in the pos- session of one who has no right to them, should I not do well in assisting him to seize and bring them home ? And surely no one will contend, that this right of mine to interfere, is derived from any voluntary agreement, or contract, into which the offending parties had previously entered, and by virtue of which they had consented to my so doing. And precisely analogous to this, when directed to its legitimate objects, is, as it appears to me, the case of civil government. Certain parties, no matter how, find themselves in possession of supreme power over a people. They, and they alone, have the actual ability, by making and en- forcing just laws, to redress wrong, and maintain right, through the land. It seems evident that their possession of this power is a rightful and sufficient warrant for such an exercise of it. For the control which they exercise; is plainly only such as by some one ought to be exercised, and these are the parties most fit and able to exercise it. And if this be so, it further follows, that it is to these SOrRCE OF THE EIGHT TO HOIK 259 parties, so exercising their power, that the submission of the community is due : according as it is written : — Submit yourselves to the powers that be. But some may imagine, that although these remarks be just in relation to other forms of government, they are not so with reference to a perfect democracy, where the basis of the constitution is a universal sufi&^ge. Consider then, that the essential principle of such a polity is that everything shall be determined by the will of the majority. If, indeed, this principle has been willingly accepted by every subject, then certainly it may fairly be said, that in such a case the idea of a social contract has beea realized. But supjiose there be dissentient parties, some preferring perhaps another form of government, as an absolute monarchy, and others, possibly, no govern- ment at all. What becomes of the contract then ? Will the protests of these parties be allowed as exempting them from the authority of the government, and obedi- ence to the laws 1 We may safely assume that no in- stance of such complaisance toward political malcontents can be found in history. In every case, then, we may conclude, that the criterion of right as between the state and the private citizen, is not to be sought in any imagined convention, but just, as has been said before, in that natural law of justice, which in any other case would determine the right between a stronger party and a weaker. That which, according to the circumstances, the stronger party may justly enforce an tlie weaker, the state, which is the body of the com- munity organized aud acting through its officers, may justly enforce on the private citizens, but nothing further. It is in transgressing this limit, that rulers, under all forms of government, become tyrants and oppressors ; and this it is which makes a government really despotic, s2 260 ON FREEDOM. ■whether the sovereignty be lodged in an absolute monarch, an aristocratic oligarchy, or a democratic assembly chosen by universal suffrage ; — for verily, there may be a tyrant majority, as well as a tyrant autocrat. It has, indeed, been the besetting error of human poten- tates in every age, to lose sight of emg marched handcuffed before a magistrate, and after some legal forms, which to them would be dumb show, being lodged within one of our prisons. Or suppose, that from ignorance of our arrangements as to landed property, they should commit the egregious mistake of attempting to settle on some unoccupied bit of common, or moorland ; say, in some part of the dispeopled county from which the Duke of Sutherland takes his title ; with what summary vigour, vi et armis, would an ejectment be served on them ! On the whole, it is not unlikely that such vio- lence would ensue, that they would end their sojourn in 296 ON BROTHERLY LOVE BETWEEN NATIONS. our isle, by getting hanged, for what we should call the crime of murder, but what to them would appear a justi- fiable and necessary self-defence. Yet in all that we have supposed, these foreigners would have been pursuing conduct far less offensive than is often shown by our countrymen, when visiting the countries inhabited by the ruder nations, — Africa, Austra- lia, Polynesia, and others. They land without ceremony, ramble where they please, make free with all things, the women among the rest, shoot the game, insult and bully the chiefs, in short, display in all things only just so much regard to the rights of the natives as is exacted by fear of their power. And if, as is natural, such conduct should provoke any resistance or retaliation, they think them- selves justified in availing themselves immediately of their superior arms, and commencing bloody war. It would indeed be most unjust to forget, that many of our com- manders, like our lamented Cook, have set noble exam- ples of very different conduct, but it is to be feared that such examples shine so brightly from the contrast which they present to- the more prevailing practice. When our people proceed to colonize, the case becomes worse. Though some show of justice and forbearance be perhaps observed in the first instance, it comes neverthe- less, almost always in the end, to one sad and sure result : that we provoke the natives through successive injuries and retaliations, till there is established, between us and them, a state of permanent and deadly hostility. A war of extermination follows almost as a matter of necessity. The natives are hunted and shot down, like wild beasts, till at length by slaughter, disease, famine, and misery, they are wholly wasted away, and are seen no more ; and the white man alone remains in the land. Such has al- ready been the result of European colonization in many PHYSICAL PECTJLIAEITIES OP PERSON. 297 lands, and seems likely to be so in many more. It is thus that Tasmania, among others, has already been- wholly cleared of its original inhabitants. It is not easy to believe, that were kindly sentiments cherished toward these unfortunate people, and a just and friendly conduct patiently maintained, by those who have €very advantage of knowledge and power, arts and arms, on their side, such lamentable consequences would arise. Is it not from indvilging unworthy sentiments toward our brethren, as if they were less than men, that we are led to treat them as brutes 1 That there is really no just reason for such a contemp- tuous estimate of any portion of mankind, will appear if we briefly consider a few of the principal particulars on which it is founded. These appear to be either physical peculiarities of person, — or certain traits in manners and customs, — or, lastly, hostility and ferocity of behaviour toward ourselves. That none of the physical varieties found among man- kind justify the notion of a distinction of race or species, is now admitted by all the best physiologists, as has already been shown in the first chapter. It may, however, still be fancied by those who are but slightly acquainted with the subject, that even as among ourselves we meet with individuals in whom humanity wears so mean and ill-conditioned an aspect, as hardly to claim its accus- tomed honours, so the same may be the case with the ruder tribes in general But I apprehend that such a view is not consistent with the truth of facts. I am not, indeed, prepared to assert, that Australians or Hottentots exhibit types of humanity equally elevated with that of the ancient Greeks, or even with that of most of the nations of modem Europe. But on the other hand, I do think it evident, that while on an average, whether viewed intellectually 298 ON BEOTHERLT LOVE BETWEEN NATIONS. or morally, they are fairly on a par, as to natural endow- ments, with a great portion of the people who constitute our own societies, and whose claim to all the offices and honours of our nature no one questions; — it is also true, that many noble and distinguished individuals have appeared among them, with whose superior excellence but few among us would bear comparison, and of whom it may be truly said, that they have been an honour to humanity. In the authentic and entertaining narratives furnished by our navigators, travellers, and missionaries, and which form so valuable a part of our libraries, how many exam- ples of this kind do we not meet with ! In the conduct of those uncultured men whom we caU savages, we often, observe such traits of dignity and courage, good faith and generosity, natural affection and friendship, as might put many of the more favoured children of civilization to shame. Who has not read and admired such instances in the history of the much injured, and now fast decaying native tribes of North America; — those nobility of t/ie desert, as Catlin justly calls them, who can suffer and die, but who cannot be slaves 1 Who is not familiar with the affectionate attachment and fidelity displayed by the Negro race, when well treated ! Their cheerful industry too, when duly protected, is remarkable. In the island of Jamaica, it is stated, that about 100,000 black and coloured people, lately slaves, have already, by their dili- gence, saved enough to purchase small freeholds, by the cultivation of which they live. They are gay without intemperance, and thrifty without churlishness. Of this race was Toussaivi VOuverture, the patriot liberator of Hayti ; whose commanding energies were so much dreaded by Napoleon, that he thought it necessary to entrap him into prison. In a cold Alpine dungeon, the noble African pined and died. The Hottentots of South MORAL TRAITS OP NEW ZEALASDEHS. 299 Africa, have commonly been placed very low in the hu- man scale ; yet the missionaries, who have lived and laboured among them, find much to love and esteem ; while all visitors are delighted by their musical taste and sweet voices. The cannibal natives of Neuo Zealcmd were . naturally held in abhorrence. Yet now, since the light of the Gospel has been imparted to them, they display its .genuine fruits and graces not less than any other race of jnen. They have embraced it earnestly and extensively, and have themselves become preachers and missionaries. They have even had among them Christian martyrs, who for the love of the truth and of their brethren, have willingly laid down their lives. At the same time, in worldly afiairs they are found to be a people endowed with courage, sagacity, and energy, of no mean order ; and are, in fact, making rapid advances toward civilization. Happy will it be, if between them and our colonists, no antipathy of races should arise, to blight the present fair prospects. Their neighbours, the poor native Australians, have often been cited as the very lowest of human kind. But the most authentic accounts which we now get of them, such, for instance, as Governor Gray's narrative of his residence among them, teach us to think better of them. In the schools at Sydney, their children are found to be quite as quick at learning as those of Europeans. Sir William Michel, in his Journey to Intertropical Australia, found in one of them a most trusty and valuable com- panion, to whom he even committed the oversight of his English attendants. " It would ill-become me," he says, " to disparage the character of the Aborigines ; for one of their unfortunate race has been my guide, companion, counsellor, and friend, on the most eventful occasions during my last journey of discovery. Taranigh was 300 ON BROTHERLY LOTE BETWEEN NATIONS. small and slender in person, bat of most determined conrage and resolution. His intelligence and his judg- ment rendered him so necessary to me, that he was ever at my elbow, whether on foot or on horseback. Con- fidence iu him was never misplaced. He knew well the character of all the white men in the party. JTothiug escaped his penetrating eye and qnick ear. His brief but oracular sentences were found to be sage, though uttered by one who was deemed a savage,'' As r^ards the physical features of this people, a friend, long resident in that country, has assured me, that some of their young men have shown as fine specimens of the human form as he has ever seen. Tet these poor " black fellows" are too often shot down, by our reckless and depraved colonists, with no more compunction than if they were kangaroos. It seems very unreasonable, that the ddfi£v eoiKdg ^epl SaifiovttJv KoKd' fiiitav yap aiTia. Which is nearly equivalent to the remark of Bacon : — " It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion as is unworthy of Him." If then an intelligent Christian acknowledges the Scrip- tures as an expression of his faith, it is not till, after having examined their contents, he has satisfied himself z 3S8 CATHOLICITY AND SfiCTARTAIiriSM. that tlieir religious teachings are goodj and credible, and worthy of God ; and it is ever with a reserve of this condition that he tenders his subscription. Seeing, then, and admitting that differences of opinion, respecting the sense and authority of certain parts of Scripture, do and must exist, let us turn to the important practical point, of enquiring how a Christian. Church ought to deal with these. Shall it undertake, in its collective capacity, to determine the questionable points, by adopting some particular extra-scriptural exposition of them as a rule of its services; or shall it leave these points, as it finds them, open questions, on which it de- clines to express itself in any sectarian sense, and permits each individual member to speak freely, as occasion may require, according to his private judgment? The great, and as I think, decisive objection to the former mode of proceeding, is, that it tends inevitably to split the church, by forcing a secession of those members who cannot conscientiously conform to the rule adopted ; and this is to violate the express law of Christ, and bursfcasunder the bands of Christian fellowship. And a second objection is, that after all, the extra-scriptural points in question for which so much has been sacrificed,jwill be found on examination, as was indeed to be expected, to be altogether of secon- dary importance, nowise affecting the essence of religion, and wholly unworthy to be made a cause of disruption. It therefore remains, that the latter alternative is the only course which a Christian congregation is at Uberty to pursue. It is, however, important to remark, that it is not merely by the express adoption of sectarian formularies, "that the exercise of private judgment may be restrained, and the church divided. Ecclesiastical dogmatism may dispense with these, and yet find means of achieving that exclusive ascendancy of its own opinions on which it is A TRULY CATHOLIC CHURCH. 339 bent. The use of creeds, and such other formularies, does this with a high hand, and a bold front. But how many degrees are there not, between this narrow bigotry, this palpable intolerance, and that thoroughgoing liberality of mind, which cordially respects the freedom of another's thought, and instinctively loathes even the wish to infringe on it j — which would not value at a straw even opinions which it deemed the most coiTect, unless assured that they were formed in freedom, and uttered with sincerity ! The church that would really be free from the charge of dogmatism, must be guided in all its proceedings by a truly comprehensive and catholic spirit. It must con- sistently bear in mind, that its Christianity is written only in the New Testament ; and that, as a church, it has in no sense adopted, or recognised, any sectarian interpre- tation. It must, in all good faith, respect, in this matter, the private judgment of its several members j and, as far as possible, allow nothing that tends to scandalize and exclude any scriptural Christian. It should therefore be jealously careful to permit nothing, which eitlier avowedly or impliedly, goes to profess any sectarian peculiarity of faith : and especially should it scrupulously forbear to designate itself by any of t/wse terms v}hich /lave been vsed to indicate controverted theological opinions. For surely it is evident, that the use of such denominations, not only breathes a dogmatical and sectarian spirit, but is, in effect, equivalent to tliefortnal adoption of a sectarian creed. Moreover, the devotional services of such a church should be compreliensive, and indisputably scriptural, both in svbstatice and expression . avoiding, as far as possible, all controverted matter, so that in these the whole congregation may be able, with one mind, one mouth, to glorify God. And although the discourses of the pulpit, in which the minister no longer addresses him- z 2 340 CATHOUCaTT AXD SECTASIASISX. self in the name of the congregation to God, but addresses tiie congregation itself in his otrn name, neither need, nor oaght to be subjected to, so dose a restriction, still should tiie style be that of one who remembers, that on such debateable ground, he utters the views of an individual only, and that he speais with no higher authority ; show- ing in all things due respect and courtesy toward those who may differ from him. The doffntaiism of tha pulpit is as offensive as it is common. Everywhere we h^ir men of the most moderate attainments pronouncing with absolute confidence on all the most profound and controverted questions of theology. They apj>ear actually unconscious that they are dealing with a subject the most august and arduous that can exercise the human fiiculties, and one which for its worthy treatment demands a concurrence of the high^t gifts of the scholar, the philosopher, and the saint. They seem qtute to forget the mighty controversies which these ques- tions have engendered, and the apparently inevitable diver- sity of opinion to which they still give rise, even among the best and wisest men. In short, our preachers, almost to a man, seem to think themselves as inMlible as little popes : — they confess neither doubts nor difficulfies. Without the means of knowing right from wrong, They alwaj-s are deasdre, dear and strong. Whatever they say, too, is ec cathedra. It seems as if, in these pulpit addresses, all the rules of decorous respect for the opinions of the hearers, which are observed by well-bred persons on other occasions, were set aside. The minister, iudeed, must often be well aware that on sundry of the points which he handles so dogmatically, many intelligent members of his congi-eg.itious think very diffe- rently from himself. But this makes no difference. To SUFFICIENCY OF THE SCEIPTUHE. 341 make any account of a layman's opinion respecting the sacred mysteries would be beneath, a clergyman's dignity. Of his relation to his people one . fe,vourite idea seems to fill his mind : — that it is that of a shepherd to his sheep. 'Tu3 mine to speak, and yours to hear. The church in which an enlightened and catholic spirit prevails, will instruct its ministers to pursue a diflferent course. It will desire, that they make a due distinction between the ofwXoyovfieva, homologoumena, and the avn- Xeyo/ievn, antilegomena of Christianity : — that while they insist on the former, they show a candid moderation in regard to the latter ; agreeably to the good old maxim : — In necessariia unitas, in dubiis lihertas, in omnibus caritas. The spirit of religious dogmatism, as before intimated, has its source in an undue estimate of the importance of the points on which Christians difier. To strike at its root, we should establish ourselves in the assurance, that the Scripture itself, aided by a fair exercise of reason, is clear enough, on all essential points, to caiTy conviction to an honest mind. Having therefore endeavoured to secure the free and unprejudiced use of reason and Scrip- ture, the church should be satisfied that it has done all towards maintaining rectitude and uniformity of opinion, which, to any good purpose, can be done. In this assur- ance it should firmly rest, and allow no petty jealousy, no impatient irritability, to disturb its repose. It has taken that position in which it is entitled to anticipate, in its own case, the fulfilment of the words : — Magna est Veritas, et prcevalebit. Great is truth and will prevail. And this is also the way of peace. Abandoned to the freedom of private judgment, and no longer forced into artificial im- portance by bigoted denunciation or exclusive intole- 342 CATHOLICITY AND SECTARIANISM. ranee, the disputed tenets of theology will shrink into com- parative insignificance, and retire into the shade ; and controversies -with whose issue neither preferment nor disqualification, neither sectarian partisanship nor odiwm theologicum is any longer connected, will be conducted with perfect good humour, and even with edification. Thus the clamour of these doughty contests will cease, " and leave us leisure to be good." Enlightened intelligence, if once brought fairly to bear on religious controversies, will, in general, soon discover of what ill-considered and vain wrangling they commonly consist. Seldom, indeed, do we find in them either any accurate definition of the terms employed, or any intelli- gible question at issue. For the most part, such disputes are little else than logomachies, or strifes about words to which the contending parlies have not been at the pains to attach any clear or precise conceptions. In such cases, if the antagonists will respectively consent to waive that unseripiural phraseology for which they so warmly, but uselessly contend, and to substitute in its stead the language of the sacred authors themselves, they will find the question in dispute speedily assuming a less formida- ble aspect : perhaps they will even begin to wonder what is become of it. Employing the language of the sacred writers, they will also insensibly and unavoidably fall into their way of thinking. They will thus be led to form ideas, which, very probably, will not precisely correspond with those previously entertained by either of the dispu- tants ; these new ideas will be a sort of neutral ground — a something which neither party intended to attack, — in which, therefore, both can agree, and which will often seem to solve the controversy as by a magic key. Or even if the issue be not quite so happy as this, the parties will at least be convinced that they substantially agree DOCTRINE OF THE TEmiTT. 343 much more nearly than . they were before aware of, and that what remains in dispute is not of very vast impor- tance. As an illustration of what is here advanced, let us briefly glance at one or two of the principal questions concerning Christian doctrine, which have most disturbed the Church. There are some which are no sooner brought to the test of a strictly scriptural appeal, than they ac- tually vanish and are gone : they find no locus standi, and are out qfcowrt at once. Such is the case even with the notable doctrine of the Trinity, or three persons in the Deity. Not that I mean to say that this doctrine is untrue, or that as an inference from Scripture, it may not be de- fended by arguments of weight : but that as a simple matter of fact, the Scripture says nothing whatever about it. Not only does it make no mention of such terms as a Trinity, or three divine persons, or a triune God, but never, in any single instance, does it even apply the term three to God at all : it never speaks of Him as being three in any sense whatever : the single passage in which there is some semblance of its doing so, in the Epistle of John, .being a notorious interpolation. Now, if these facts be considered without prejudice, it will be admitted that there is here a notable departure in the churches from scriptural simplicity j — ^no less than installing, as a lead- ing article of orthodoxy, a form of doctrine of which the Scripture makes no mention, and with which, so far as appears, both Christ himself and all the evangelic writers were absolutely unacquainted. Consider also, for a moment, that vexalissima qucestio — that most redoubtable, and perhaps most difficult, of all scriptural controversies, respecting the Deity of Christ. One party maintains, as a scriptural doctrine, that Christ was God; another regards this same position as plainly 344 CATHOIilClTY AND SECTAKIANISM. opposed to Scripture. Here then at least, one might say, there is a broad and weighty question at issue. Yet I believe, as a fact, that candid and scriptural Christians of nominally opposite views, rarely discuss this question, without being brought under an impression that their real difference of opinion is something which they would be rather at a loss to define. As far as regards the application to Christ of the name of God, the facts of the case are pretty simple. There is not in the New Testament a single certain and admitted instance of such application of it, though unquestionably there are some passages in which it appears to be rather the more obvious construction. Yet if it be considered how few, as well as ambiguous, these passages are, — especially when compared with the numberless occasions on which this title might naturally have been employed, had such em- ployment of it been agreeable to the apostolic usage, — ^the conclusion seems almost inevitable, that the point is really so disputable, that in candour and reason, it ought neither to be absolutely denied by the one party, nor positively insisted on by the other. In the meantime, there are some recorded words of Christ himself, which are suffi- cient to show, that at any rate this title miglU have been assigned him, at once without impropriety, and without implying any disputed point of theology. When the Jews accused him of making himself God, because he had called God his Father, Jesus replied : " Is it not written in your law, ' I said, ye are gods V If it called them gods to whom the word of God came, say ye of Him whom the Father hath sanctified and sent into the world, 'thou blasphemest,' because I said that I am the son of God !" Now if we turn from the question respecting the \name to the consideration of the doctrine itself, and inquire what it is which the asserter of the Deity of Jesus under- DOCTEINE OP THE DEITY OF CHRIST. 345' stands by that phrase, beyond that which is equally allowed by his opponent, — supposing that opponent to be a scriptural Christian, — ^we shall find, in the great ma- jority of cases, that this is something very subtle and un- substantial, if not absolutely inexplicable, For how is it ? Of the tru£ and perfect humanity of Jesus, both in body and soul, we find a general admission : moreover his high omd peculiar spiritual union with the Deity, being a fact unequivocally announced in Scripture, is also undisputed. It is only in the attempt to define more precisely the ex- tent or nature of this union, that amid a felt inability to comprehend the incomprehensible, — a painful and be- wildering efibrt of the human faculties to do what is naturally beyond their power, — theologic differences begin. Yet even here there is much in common. It is agreed that the humanity remained perfect, that the Deity was unchanged ; that the former retained its dis- tinct consciousness and will, its partial ignorance, its liability to temptation, and all its other innocent infir- mities ; the latter the undiminisht exercise of all its infinite perfections. Whatever, therefore, the union was, it was, by common consent, such as was compatible with these conditions. Considering then on the one hand, in how intimate a sense the Deity, in whom we live and move and a/re, is in union with us all ; and on the other, the limitations under which the universal church has necessarily apprehended his special union with Jesus ; it will probably be allowed that the utmost possible range for rational difference of opinion in this matter, is not very wide. It will also probably be felt, that the words in which the sacred authors have expressed their own conceptions on this subject, are at least as well fitted for that purpose as the most elaborate creeds and confessions 346 CATHOLICITY AND SECTARIANISM. that have been invented since. " The Word was God, and the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld its glory r " The words' that I speak to you, I speak not of myself : the Father wlw dwdleth in me, he doeth the works" " I and my Father are one." All this way scriptural Christians may travel together in harmony. But now, if, unsatisfied with a simply scriptural expres- sion of their faith, they begin to insist on the phraseology of sectarian dogmas, the career of strife and schism will begin. In quoting, as I have done, in the two examples above cited, the phi-aseology in which Christian Churches are accustomed to express what they deem orthodox doctrine, I beg, most emphatically, that I may not be understood as expressing any opinion respecting the correctness, or otherwise, of the views which that phraseology is intended to convey. Any discussion of such matters would be totally foreign to my .present purpose. It may possibly be true, that inferentiaUy or constructively, those views may fairly be deducible from the words of Scripture : — that is a matter of opinion, on which wise, learned and pious Christians in all ages have diiBFered. But what we have to observe is this ; — that of doctrine in such form, and so exprest, it assuredly cannot truly be said, Thus it is written. Such doctrine, therefore, is no part of the direct and explicit teaching of the Scriptures : it is no more than a hum^an comment or interpretation, and can claim no higher authority. And what follows 3 That it is free indeed to all men in their private capacity, if they be so minded, both to think and speak in this manner ; but that by churches, in their collective capacity, such extra- scriptural and controverted modes of expressing the faith, — which while they humour some, scandalize others, and tend inevitably to strife and schism, — ought not to be ORTHODOX PHRASEOLOGY. 347 employed, muct less imposed by authority as articles of &ith. Having made these general reflections on the nature and evil of sectarian dogmatism, I will conclude with a few remarks on the conduct of some existing religious bodies among us. And in the first place, let us glance at the Church of England, so called : the national establishment of this country. She professes, as a Protestant Church, the Scripture alone to be her rule of faith ; and her apologists go so far as to boast of her liberality, and tolerance, and catholic spirit. In her sixth article she says : — " Holy Scripture containeth all things necessary to salvation : so that whatever is not read therein, nor may be proved thereby, is not to be required of any man that it should be believed as an article of faith, or be thought necessary to salvation." Excellently well in the main. But in that saving clause, — "nor may he proved tliereby" — lurks an amphiboly, which neutralizes all the rest ; — an elastic dooi-, which every Church can stretch to the com- pass of its own orthodoxy, though unconscious, perhaps, that in so doing it assumes the whole matter in dispute. For, in truth, it is just on the question of wliat may, or may not, be proved by Scripture,, that Christian sects are at variance. If, indeed, the phrase were taken to signify what by common consent might so be proved, it would be a truly catholic rule, and all other creeds and articles would be superseded by it. But now the Church means not so, but interprets it by the judgment of the majority of her bishops and clergy in Convocation assem- bled. Not the Scripture, therefore, but the interpretation, or paraphrase, put on it by these divines, is her standard of orthodoxy ; a thing of merely human authority, and abundantly disputed ; but which nevertheless she imposes 348 CATHOLICITY AND SECTARIANISM. on all her members, lay as well as clerical, with unsparing rigour, and obtrudes in every service with assiduous pertinacity. On the whole, then, it must, by the impartial, be con- fessed, that this church is entrenched within ramparts embattled by dogmatism, and bristling with anathemas, denouncing exclusion and perdition on all who hesitate to pass over the Padalon bridge of her exquisitely subtle creed, and euter her frowning fortress by the narrow gate of her thrice revised orthodoxy. The polemic divines of this church look around from her towers, and beholding the wandering flocks of Christians on the plain below, thunder against them denunciations of heresy and schism, because they prefer their freedom to the discipline of the garrison. They must be told, that by their own exclusive regulations, they are themselves the authors of that sever- ance which they so bitterly indeed condenm, but which we shall then believe them sincerely to deplore, when we see them endeavouring to relieve even one of the con- scientious scruples by which it is produced. Till then, it will befit the Church of England to assume other titles than catholic and apostolic ; and to be called, as indeed she is, the stronghold of dogmatism in this land. She has even gone so far, as to anathematize the virtue of candour itself. In her eighteenth article she says : — " They also are to be had accursed, who presume to say, that every man shall be saved by the law or sect which he professeth, so that he be diligent to frame his life agreeably to that law, and the light of nature." It is happy that we can correct such language by the generous confession of the Apostle : — " Now know I, of a truth, that God is no respecter of persons, but in every nation, he that feareth Him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted of Him." In short, — ^if the truth may be spoken, — we can say no QUAKERS, OK FRIENDS. 349 less than this : — that the Church of England, in her rules and formularies, has, to an extent which her best friends must regret, adopted and perpetuated the intolerance of the Church of Rome, from whom she derived them. Who, indeed, would not regret, that liturgies, otherwise so venerable, beautiful, and edifying, should be disfigured by so foul a blemish ! Of the other bodies of Protestants in Britain, the great bulk are hardly less zealous of extra-scriptural orthodoxy than the Established Church itself; many defining it by the Assembly's Catechism, and one popular sect, in addi- tion to the tests of the Church of England, enacting, it is said, a supplement no less ample than the whole of Wesley's sermons. Two classes only of Protestant Dissenters appear to have regarded a scriptural freedom and simplicity of belief, as a thing to be aimed at, and boasted of : namely the Quakers or Friends, and the English Presbyterians, now often better known as Unitarians. With respect to the former, it may be observed, that by their primary principle of immediate revelation, and their ever laudable zeal for religious liberty, they have hitherto been preserved from the adoption of a set creed, or dogmatical designation ; and I believe that, on the whole, it may be said with truth, that there has prevailed among them a fair share of substantial liberality and latitude in doctrinal matters. Yet one cannot but observe with regret, that the English Friends of our day seem inclined rather to excuse than to emulate the high- mindedness of their ancestors ; and to be infected, in no small measure, witli the conceited fervour of that ultra- doctrinarianism wliich prevails everywhere around them. May they take warning in time, and not be seen to sacri- fice their noble distinction of being pre-eminently proc'?/c, — that they should believe a lie.'' And surely this warning deserves, even now, most serious attention, conveying, as it does, a lesson which seems to be imperfectly understood. Many appear to think that a miracle is a sufficient vouclier for anything. But we are here warned, that miraculous signs, even though believed to be real, as facts, afford no warrant for receiving anything contrary to sound reason, or a good conscience ; anything unworthy of God, or at variance with virtue and'humanity. Had this truth been duly regarded, the greatest corruptions of religion would never have taken place, and the saddest tragedies in human history would never have been enacted. It appears to be our duty not to be unmindful of this caution even in reading ilie Scriptures themselves : in fact, the infallible and oracular charaeter commonly ascribed to them, is consistent neither with their contents, nor with their own pretensions. It seems just to think thus. There may be good reason to acknowledge a divine word to have been spoken to holy men of old, and 400 THE APOSTASY. to have been attested by supernatural signs, as recorded in the Scriptures. But there is a still more ancient, and more surely authentic word of the same Divine Being, written at large where all may read it, on the face of creation ; — uttered for ever in the manifold voice of nature, and in the secret conscience of the human soul.' It cannot be right to allow this eternal and imiversal word, which indeed by its inward communings with the heart, " enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world," to be superseded by any teaching, which uttered at first by human lips, and imperfectly recorded by human pens, reaches us at length, after sundry transcriptions and translations, in a distant age. Such written word we may, indeed, thankfully receive as an auxiliary light, — a lamp held up to us, whereby we may better discern the natural evidences of Divine truth ; but to exalt it into a supreme and absolute rule, does not appear to be the part of an enlightened piety. But if it be with such reserve that we ought to admit the authority even of the canonical Scriptures themselve.s, sanctioned, as we believe them to be, by the most authen- tic tokens from Heaven ; — how ought we to treat those claims to infallihility, which appeal to miracles established by no legitimate proof whatever, and adduced in support of absurd doctrines, idolatrous rites, and the most arrogant pretensions 1 So far from deeming them entitled to the least respect, we ought to regard them as impious impos- tures, nay as the very characters by which we have been forewarned, that the apostate chiu'ch is to be recog- nized. And may not the same be said of that perpetual cry of mystery, with which the Church has endeavoured to para- lyse men's understandings, and stifle enquiry ? A mystery is a thing which is kept secret, or at most but partially MNATrUS LOYOLA, 401 revealed ; and with, such we are confessedly surrounded, not only in things divine, but in things natural also. And though in the nature and ways of God there is much that is mysterious, yet there is also something which may be known by us, and something which has been revealed to us : and so fiix as this is the case, we may truly say, that there is mystery no longer. So an apostle speaks of the Gospel, as "the mystery which was hidden from ages and generations, but now is made manifest to the saints." But it has been the stratagem of the Church, for its own purposes, to endeavour to throw the veil of mystery even over those things that are revealed ; and under a pretence of their inscrutability by human reason, to claim implicit submission to her own traditionary dogmas respecting them. The rule of a good churchman is just that which is exprest, with much simplicity, by Ignatius Loyola : — " That we may in all things attain the truth, we ought ever to hold it as a first principle, that what I see white, I believe to be black, if the hierarchical Church so define it to be."* This is to confound mystery with absurdity : for even mysteries, if they be truths, though they may transcend reason, cannot contradict it. But the corrupted Church, in thus writing Mystery upon her forehead, has been unconscious that she was fulfilling a prophecy, and proclaiming her own apostasy. In tracing the progress of ecclesiastical corruption, we have yet to mention one circumstance by which it was so greatly promoted, that we may dare to say, that apart from this, its full developement could never have been attained : — I mean the alliance, or connexion, of the Chv/rch with the State. The apostle, writing to the Thessalonians concerning • " Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius," edited by Cardinal Wise- man. 402 THE APOSTASY. the itMn of sin, says, " And now ye know what hinder- eth that he should be revealed in his time. For the mystery of iniquity doth already work, only there is one that hindereth, till he be taken out of the way ; and then shall that '.wicked one be revealed." There can, I pre- sume, be little doubt that the power to which it is here alluded, as restraining the unfolding of priestly ambition, was that of the Pagan government of Rome. This did not, indeed, prevent the bishops from belording their flocks in a style of pretty considerable arrogance and pomp, as we have already seen. Still it limited their means of enforcing their authority chiefly to ecclesiastical censures and penances. But when Constantine the Great became a convert to the Cross, and ascended the imperial throne, things were speedily changed. Christianity now wielded the sovereign power, and her reign of triumph and pride commenced. The Church, according to the language of the Apocalyptic prophecy, had brought forth a man-chUd, who was ruling all nations with an iron sceptre : and this potentate was now ready to enforce her decrees with all the fearful powers at his command : — ^with fine, imprisonment, exile, torture and death. Henceforth the Gospel, as interpreted by the dogmas of orthodoxy, became part and parcel of the law of the land ; and to disobey the Church was to defy the Emperor. In the conversion of pagans and heretics. Christians were no longer satisfied to rely on the force of arguments or ex- ample, but adopted the more summary process of sup- pressing the worship of their opponents by edicts and penalties ; and so rapid was this melancholy declension, that from this time a century had not elapsed, before they even gloried in beholding every spark of religious liberty, whether for themselves or others, totally trodden down and extinct. THE CHURCH GROWS RICH. 403 But wliile this worldly hierarchy, which daily more and more belied the Christian name, was thus triumph- ing, the tine Church had fled into the wUdernesg, where, according to the counsels of Divine wisdom, she was to be nourisht for a season. The mystical period o/'1260 years of darkness and oppression was destined to run its course, tUl the growing light of the 1 6th century should bring reformation. So long the vntnesses to the truth were "to prophesy in sackcloth." We see them in the persons of the Albigenses, the Waldenses, the Bohemian Brethren, the Lollards, and a host of others, bearing their faithful testimony in evil times, and amid darkness only partially relieved by a lurid light, when their persecutors dragged them forth to suffering and deatL One of the first fruits to the Church of the exaltation of Constantine, was the legal right of holding landed pro- perty. The edict of Milan, in the year 313, recognised all her actual possessions; and another, publisht soon afterwards, granted to all subjects of the empire the power of bequeathing to ecclesiastical uses all such pro- perty as they chose. On the effects of these measures Hallam makes this comment. " Passing rapidly from a condition of distress and persecution to the summit of prosperity, the Church degenerated as rapidly from her ancient purity, and forfeited the respect of future ages in the same proportion as she acquired the bUnd veneration of her own." In availing herself of the powers thus granted her, it is notorious that the Church was not, in general, very scrupulous as to the means which she employed. She seemed to hold as a maxim, that these were sanctified by the end in view. The troubled conscience of dying sin- ners, the peculiar influences derived from the confes- sional, the system of penances and indulgences, the dd2 404 THE APOSTASY. doctrine of purgatory, and the great exchangeable value of those masses by which souls might be prayed out of it, the carefully cultivated veneration for shrines and relics, and their -wonder-working virtues j — all these offered so many golden opportunities of diverting into the hallowed coffers of the Church the iinrighteous mam- mon of the laity. It has been reckoned, that within the century succeeding the Norman conquest, the churches and abbeys in England had become possessed of «,t least a fourth part of the soil of the kingdom. Nor was it only in wealth that the Church profited by her alliance with the State, but in power and authority also. The jurisdiction of the bishops over their several churches, and the authority of the decrees of councils, were now backed by the edicts of the Emperor, and it became the duty of the magistrates to enforce them. " From the reign of Constantine," observes Mosheim, " the bishops began to introduce gradually innovations into the forms of ecclesiastical discipline, and to change the ancient government of the Church. Their first step was an entire exclusion of the people from all part in the administration of ecclesiastical affairs ; and afterwards they, by degrees, divested even the presbyters of their ancient privileges, and their primitive authority, that they might have no importunate protesters to control their ambition, or oppose their proceedings ; and princi- pally, that they might either engross to themselves, or distribute as they thought proper, the possessions and revenues of the Church. Hence it came to pass, that at the conclusion of the fourth centtiry, there remained no more than a mere shadow of the ancient government of the Church." One of the most remarkable privileges which the bishops had the address to win from the temporal power, EISE OP THE PAPACY. 405 was the exemption of themselves, and their subordinate clergy, yirom the jurisdiction of the dvU magistrate, even in cases of crime. This immunity was absolutely granted to the bishops by Justinian. They enjoyed the same in France. Chilperic, though a very arbitrary monarch, did not dare to charge some of his bishops with treason, except before a council of their brethren : and Charle- magne granted absolute freedom from the civil tribunals to the whole body of the clergy. This was the famous benefit of clergy : but though it brought dignity and power to the bishops, we must not fail to observe, that it affected the inferior clergymen in a very different manner, inas- much as it subjected to the arbitration of their ecclesiasti- cal superiors, their fortunes, their liberty, and even their lives. But a rod was now growing up among the bishops themselves, through which they were about to taste, in their turn, some of the humiliation which they had inflicted on their brethren. The bishop of Borne had very early claimed precedence before all other bishops, as being the prelate of the imperial city, and, as was pre- tended, the successor of Saint Peter j and to a certain extent it had been conceded to him. But when the Western Empire had fallen, and the conquering barbarians had been converted to Christianity, a wider and more promising field was opened to sacerdotal ambition. The chieftains of these tribes, equally with their followers, were ignorant, credulous, and superstitious ; and devoted wholly to war. The novel rites, the solemn pomp, and mysterious doctrines of the Chujxih were imposing to their senses and imagination, and for the most part, these doughty warriors proved not diflSeult of conversion. The learning, the grave demeanour, and venerable aspect of the higher clergy struck them with awe j and it might 406 THE APOSTASY. also appear to them an obvious point of policy, to culti- vate alliance with an order of men who were in possession of such profound influence over their new subjects. Planted in such a soil, the papacy became a rapidly thriving plant. Asserting for itself the centralized autho- rity of the whole church, it boldly claimed the submission even of princes; while by their aid, (it subjected to itself all the inferior ranks of the clergy. It cited the bishops before its tribunals ; censured, fined, deposed them ; and struggled hard, and often successfully, with all Christian sovereigns for the sole right of appointing them. It grEisped rapaciously a large share of all ecclesiastical revenues. It assumed, and largely exercised, the power of excommunication, and that not only of private offenders, but of whole nations at once, their princes included : and it is to be remembered, that this ban not only suspended at once all the functions of the clergy, — closing the churches, and depriving the people of the rites of baptism, com- munion, marriage and burial ; and thus, as the weakness of superstition believed, shutting against the dyiag sinner the gates of Paradise j — ^but also went to cut off those who were its objects, as profane and accursed, from all the social intercourse of life ; so that no man, as the prophecy expresses it, might even buy or sell with them. We read that when Robert, King of France, had been excommuni- cated on account of an irregiilar marriage, only two of his attendants remained with him, and these threw all the meats which had passed his table into the fire.* Papal domination seems to have attained its akmeh dur- ing the thirteenth century. Hallam observes, that " Rome inspired, during this age, all the terror of her ancient name. She was once more the mistress of the world, and * Hallam'a "Middle Ages," chap. 7. POPE 6KEG0ET VU. AND HENRY IV. 407 kings were her vassals." At this time we find Pope Innocent III. expressing himself thus : — " As the sun and the moon are placed in the firmament, the greater as the light of the day, the lesser of the night ; thus are there two powers in the Church ; the pontifical, which, as having the charge of souls, is the greater ; and the royal, which is the less, as that to which the bodies of men only are entrusted." It must be admitted that this language was not altogether a vain boast. With the iaterdict laid on England by Pope Innocent IV., and the abject sub- mission of our craven monarch John, we are all femiliar. But long before this. Pope Gregory VII. had not only gone so far as to excommunicate the Emperor Henry IV. of Germany, but to declare him deprived of his kingdom, and to release his subjects from their allegiance. When the Emperor, with the avowed purpose of submission, had crossed the Alps, and presented himself at Rome, the haughty pontiff kept him three successive days of wintry weather, from morning tUl night, in a woollen shirt and with naked feet, ia an outer court of the palace, before he granted him absolution. In short, under pretence of being vicegerents of Christ, — who, when himself on earth, disclaimed being a ruler, or judge, even in the smallest secular matters, — these high priests of Rome asserted a right of supreme arbitration in all affairs whatever, and an ultimate jurisdiction over all the kings and rulers of the earth. But no degree of exaltation confined to the present life, was sufi6cient to satisfy either the aspirations of saints and churchmen, or the abject and superstitious veneration with which they had inspired the people. The corrupt Church, and especially in that most corrupt condition into which she fell under the supremacy of the Roman pontiffs, became grossly idolatrous. She in fact made an 408 THE APOSTASY. idol of hersdf; and ■withdrawing in great measure her worship from the one living God, directed it to those departed worthies of her own whom she delighted to honour. It had been the great object of the old dispensation, to train the people of God to a pure and simple monotheism ; and at the time when the Messiah appeared, that object seemed to have been effectually attained. But when the new economy was launched among the idolatrous nations for whose conversion it was intended, the clear stream became again troubled by foul admixtures : — -polytheism revived in new forms, obscured and confounded the simple doctrine of the Gospel, and entailed on the Church the necessity of passing again through long ages of trial, until, the dregs of her corruption being purged away, she should once more emerge in the purity of a brighter age. The first step of this decline was made, when the subtlety of pagan philosophy, not content with the simple style of Holy Writ, invented what it called an hypostatic, ov personal, distinction within the Godhead. It was a second, when the relation between the Father and the Son came to be represented after the amalogy of a natwaZ generation. Another soon followed. For those who had conceived of God as having a father, were easily recon- ciled to the idea of his having also a mother, and hence, in no long time, arose in the church a parthenolafry ; the adoration of the Virgin Mary as the Mother of God : a worship destined in after ages almost to eclipse not only that of her Son, but that of the Father also. The Virgin being thus enthroned as the Queen of Heaven, the apostles and martyrs, and a host of saints, soon followed in her train, being exalted as minor deities by the canonization of the Church. The bountiful flood of adoration was not ASCETICISM. 409 exhausted even yet ; it now deified the eucharistic wafer, and speedily reached to reliques and shrines, images and pictures without end ; till at length, the devotions of Christian people, instead of being concentrated on one Divine object, became broken into fragments as number- less as glances of the sunbeams from ruffled waters. Nothing was too gross for Christian credulity, or too mean for Christian worship. We have already noticed, as one of the features of the prophetic apostasy, the enjoining of an vmnaiwral amd unbidden abstmenee : — "forbidding to marry, and com- momding to abstain from meats'' In the history of the corrupt Church we find this prediction most strikingly fulfilled. The spirit of genuine Christianity is altogether social, cheerful, and loving. It teaches that the most Acceptable service to God lies in kindness and mercy toward man, and that the best acknowledgment which we can make of his manifold blessings, is a thankful and virtuous enjoyment of them. But in very early days, the Church began to be invaded with a gloomy enthusiasm, seemingly of eastern origin, and allied to that Gnowstic tenet which regards matter as essentially malignant, and the source of aU evU.* Under this influence men con- * This absard opinion has, in all ages, been the main source of the many lantastic excesses of tpvrUualiam. In the view of en- lightened philosophy, maiter and spirit are distinguished from each other, as the exciting cause, or object, of sensible perception, from the sentient being, or principle. These two forms of existence appear, indeed, almost as necessary correlatives ; and as far as we know, seem to make up the universe. To say, then, that matter is essentially evil, is to say that it is so to have senses, and to perceive an external world : — ^for wherever this is the case, there is something analogous to matter. Nothing, in short, appears more forlorn, than the idea of a spirit separate from matter : — and, in point of fact, we neither know of the existence of such a thing, nor have even any evidence of its possibility. The Deity himself is discovered to us, as 4:10 THE APOSTASY. founded pleasure with sin, and thought the flesh fit for nothing but mortification and dishonour. In their esteem, the greatest saint was he, who turning his back on society, and spurning all human sympathies, withdrew to the seclusion of deserts, or the solitary cell ; — there, as he fancied, to devote himself, in spiritual abstraction, to God, but, in reality, to grow encrusted with habitual selfishness, to subside into the torpor of lifelong inaction, or even, as often happened, to sink into the defilement of a morbid sensuality. It is from the confessions of eccle- siastical writers themselves that we learn, that there were times when a convent was almost synonymous with a brothel. It is not strange,^ that men in this mood, found in nothing a matter of so much scandal and aversion, as in the conjugal union : — that holy and happy state, in which, by the Creator's special favour and. admirable skill, man- kind exercise the. crowning faculty of their nature, in re- producing at once the Divine image and their own, in their ofispring : — a state which the Divine word itself has pre-eminently hallowed, in .making it an emblem of the union which subsists between the Deity himself and the souls which abide in. his love. , It is, indeed, amazing to contemplate, how, in palpable defiance of the- Scriptures, almost the entire host of fathers, bishops, and popes, with one mouth, persevered in extoUing ceUbacy, till at length they dared to decide a great spirit, indeed, yet intimately blended with the material uni- verse ; as is well expreat by Pope :— "All are but parts of one stupendous whole. Whose body Nature is, and God the soul." To impute, then, our sins and infirmities wholly to our material part, is foolish. This indeed is often a source of temptation ; but that which yields to it, is the weakness or depravity of the soul. It belongs to the spirit to govern the flesh ; if it fail to do so, the fault is its own. POWER OF THE KEYS. 411 that a married man was unfit far the Christian ministry. This was made an absolute rule of the Eoman Church by Pope Gregory YII., in the eleventh century, and such it has since continued. But in the encouragement which they gave to clerical and monastic celibacy, it cannot be doubted that the rulers of the hierarchy discerned a pregruint policy. They judged that men who were thus, as it were, eunuchized, and abstracted firom the affections and cares of domestic life, would become the most devoted servants of the Church, and the most effective instruments of her designs. They were wise in their generation, and they had their reward. Whether it were to magnify the Apostolic See, by preaching everywhere its infallibility and supremacy ; to recruit its revenues, through their influence as confessors, or. as traveUing hawkers of its indulgences ; to subserve its plots and . intrigues as uni- versal spies ; to be its ready and willing instruments in the persecution • of heretics ; or to compass sea and land to bring proselytes to its fold ; — in every way the Church of Rome found in the monastic orders faithful and zealous ministers, good at need. In contemplating the portentous ascendancy which the Christian priesthood at length acqiiired over mankind, our curiosity is naturally awakened in relation to the sources from which this ascendancy was derived. There is one of these so singular, and remarkable that we cannot pass it unnoticed. All the, ordinary forms of authority which men assume over one another, rest on considerations which are confined to the present life. But the clergy claimed a power which affected the posi- tion of the soul before God, and involved its weal or woe, not only in this world, but the next : they claimed the power, as it was called, of the keys ;-^-oi opening and shutting the kingdom of Heaven ; — or in other words, of 412 THE APOSTASY. forgiving or retaining sins, and thus shortening, or pro- longing, the penal sufferings of departed souls, at discre- tion. This was a pretension, which, however impious and blasphemous, we must acknowledge, in its way, to have been heroic. It is easy to perceive, that so far as the Church could obtain credit for such a power as this, she must have been able to strike terror into the boldest heart, and to humble the loftiest gainsayer at her feet. Nor was there wanting a fitting instrument to work this pretension to the utmost effect. That instrument was the confessional. From the monarch to the peasant, they enforced on every man and every woman, on the matron and the maid, the duty of resorting periodically to the priest, and disclosing to him aU the secret sins of which their consciences accused them, in order that on condition of submitting to such penances as he might prescribe, they might receive from him absolution. Of the foul purposes to which, as was inevitable, a practice like this has been abused, history has told us much ; yet assuredly it has left much more untold. For daring impiety toward God, for insolent assumption toward men, for multifarious energy in all manner of evil, — we may safely say, that the history of the world may be searched in vain, for an institution which wiU bear comparison with this. How inconceivable would it appear, if it were not an incontestable fact, that for above a thousand years, and to a great extent even to this day, the noble and the wealthy, the learned and the brave, the witty and the beautiful, of Christian, civilized, world-subduing Europe, have continued to accredit this palpable imposture, and to submit themselves to this loathsome, insulting inquisi- tion, imposed on them by sordid quackery under a sacred garb ! Surely, if ever there was any doing of mortal man, by which he might truly be said to have "seated TUB iN^UISITIOlf. 4:13 himself impiously in the temple of God, shotting himself to be God," we see it here. My limits now compel me to bring this short, and very imperfect sketch of the great apostasy of the Church to a close : but there stUl remains one dark and melancholy feature of it, which must not be omitted : — I mean her treatment of those whom conscience forbade to suhmii, to her authority. It is simple truth to say, that in this respect she exhibited herself as a monster of cruelty, a demon of persecution j and amply fulfilled the prophecy, that " in her was found the blood of prophets and of saints, and of all that were slain upon the earth." It is an awful thought, that after all the manifold oppressions that have been done under the sun, ii re- mained for tlie Christian priesthood, in the name of Jesus -Christ, to organize the most cruel and iniquitous system of tyranny which the world has knoum. I might illus- trate this statement in many particulars, but I shall con- fine myself to a brief notice of the peculiar tribunals which the Church erected, for the trial of ofiences against her authority in matters of religion. The most notable of these was the terrible Inquisition, which inscribed its banners with the word, Misericordia. This differed in its proceedings from ordinary courts of judicature, ia several important respects. Those are ac- customed to take cognizance only of open crimes, but it was the object of this to restrain and punish thoughts, to crush the inmost soul : — their practice is to convict an offender by evidence brought against him j the Inquisition endeavoured to make him convict himself, by confessions wrung from him by the extremities of torture ; — their proceedings are attended with some fair share of publicity ; those of the Inquisition were shrouded in impenetrable secrecy; — their punishments observed some equitable measure in relation to the offence j those of the Inquisi- 414 THE APOSTASY. tlon knew no measure but the inability of tormentors to inflict worse. The ordinary doom, in cases of erring opinion, was to be burnt alive. To this fate the Spanish Inquisition condemned above ten thousand persons, within the first twenty years of its institution. In confirmation of these statements, I quote a few sen- tences from Prescott's History of Ferdinomd and Isabella, referring my hearers, for further details, to that valuable work. "The accused, whose mysterious disappearance was perhaps the only public evidence of his arrest, was conveyed to the secret chambers of the Inquisition, where he was jealously excluded from intercourse with all, save a priest of the Roman church and his jailer, both of whom might be regarded as spies of the tribunal. He was favoured only with extracts from the depositions of the witnesses against him, so garbled as to conceal every pos- sible clue to their names or quality. If he refused to confess his guilt, or, as was usual, was suspected of evasion, he was subjected to the torture. This was ad- ministered in the deepest vaults of the Inquisition, where the cries of the victim would fall upon no ear save that of his tormentors. If the intensity of pain extorted a confession from the sufierer, he was expected, if he sur- vived, which did not always happen, to confirm it the next day. Should he refuse to do this, his mutilated members were condemned to a repetition of the same sufferings, until his obstinacy might be vanquisht. Should the rack, however, prove ineffectual to force a con- fession of his guilt, he was so far from being considered as having establisht his innocence, that with a barbarity unknown to any tribunal where the torture has been ad- mitted, he was not unfrequently convicted on the deposi- tion of the witnesses. Even Llorente, the secretary of the Holy Office, confesses that not more than one person in a thousand was wholly acquitted. So that it came to MISERABLE STATE OF CHRISTENDOM. 415 be proverbial, that aU who -were not roasted were at least singed." It was a peculiar feature of this most dismal tyranny, that it bore heavily on men precisely in proportion to their intdligence arid conscierUioii,sness. Those whose dulness or credulity could believe anything, or whose hypocrisy was ready to profess anything, were safe. It was fatal just to those in whom the love of truth, and the sense of duty, prevailed over all meaner motives. Prescott well observes, " that of all human infirmities, or rather vices, there is none productive of more extensive mischief to society tha,n Jhnaticism. The opposite prin- ciple of atheism, which refuses to recognize the most im- portant sanctions to virtue, does not necessarily imply any destitution of just moral perceptions ; but fanaticism is so far subversive of the most establisht principles of morality, that under the dangerous maxim, that 'for the advoMcement of tlie foiih, aU means are lawful^ — which Tasso has rightly, though perhaps undesignedly, derived from the spirits of hell, — it not only excuses, but enjoins the commission of the most revolting crimes, as a sacred duty." Miserable indeed was the religious condition to which the people of Christendom was now reduced. It was such as is finely exprest by the poet Lucretius : Humana ante ocalos foede cum vita jaceret In terris, oppreasa gi-avi sub relligione ; Quae caput e coeli regionibus ostendebat, Horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans. Deprived of the Scriptures, forbidden to think or speak, betrayed into all manner of error and sin by the false guides who practised on their credulity and their vices, dismayed by superstitious terrors, crusht by the irre- sistible oppression of Church and State combined in a despotic league, — mankind, — with the exception of a few 416 THE APOSTASY. daring aud self-devoting spirits, — ^lay prostrate and help- less at the feet of the priesthood. Their bodies and their souls, their goods and their Hves, their &ith and their reason, were all in their hands. It was a tyranny such aa the world had never before seen, and, by the grace of God, we trust will never see again. Thus briefly and feebly have I endeavoured to portray the Apostasy. The Beformation, the great and glorious religious revolution of the sixteenth century, by which its reign of triumph and progress was terminated, and its dominion curtailed, — I can now do no more than name. But it is a name, which to those nations who, by its means, regained, in some good measure at least, the inestimable blessings of scriptural light and religious liberty, — ^and above all, to the inhabitants of Britain, — will, I trust, never cease to be dear. It would, however, be a great error to suppose tJiM the Protestant Seformation was perfect, or that even in the purest existing churches, the characteristic evils of the apostasy have wholly disappeared. This cannot fail to be evident to those who will impartially compare these churches, with that model of simplicity, freedom and brotherly equality, which is presented to us in the New Testament. Some of them, doubtless, approach nearer to the primitive standard than others. I shrink from parti- cular censures, but some general tests we may safely apply. Wherever extra-scriptural and sectarian dogmas are insisted on as terms of communion : — wherever reli- gious worship is ofiered to other objects, beside the One Supreme ; — or debased by the intervention, in any form, of visible images ;— -wherever the Scriptures, according to a genuine text and version, are not freely opened to the people, and commended to their search, as the sole authentic records of Christian truth ; — ^wherever the few simple rites of Christianity, instead of incidental accom- EEVIVAL OF THE APOSTASY. 417 paniments of religion, are represented as sacraments of a mystical efficacy, essential to salvation; — wherever we see it attempted to encroach on Christian freedom by the imposition of ascetic austerities : — wherever the people are taught to depend rather on what the priest does for them, than on what God does in them ; — wherever the clergy display the features of a priesthood, separating themselves as a holy order, to which, in virtue of their succession, or ordination, belong exclusively all sacred ministrations ; — and especially when, within this order, a lordly prelacy lifts its head above its fellows ; — wherever we see the Church maintaining a corrupt alliance with the State, and especially where we see her prompting and abetting the State in any form of religious intolerance, or persecution ; — in all, or any of these cases, unless I err, we see so many surviving, or reviving features of the apostasy. In alluding to a remval of the apostasy, I touch a subject which, I doubt not, many of my readers will recognise as one of serious actual importance. It is a startling faot, that a certain reaction of public sentiment in favour of the views and ways of the mediaeval Church, has of late years been manifested, to a considerable ex- tent, among the clergy of the English Establishment, and, through their influence, among our higher classes generally. We are taught by writers of deserved emi- nence, that the corruptions which befel Christianity in the middle ages, however deplorable in themselves, were yet, amid the ignorance and violence of the times, favour- able to its influence, or even necessary to its preservation. In MUman's History of Ghristianity* we meet the follow- ing passage : — " The union of Christianity with mona- chism, with sacerdotal domination, with the military spi- » Vol iii. p. 529. E E 418 THE APOSTASY. rit, with the spiritual autocracy of the Papacy, with the advancement at one time, at another with the repression of the human mind, had each their darker and brighter side ; and were in succession, — however they departed from the primal and ideal perfection of Ohristianity, — to a certain extent beneficial, because apparently almost necessary to the social and intellectual development of mankind at each particular juncture. For instance, mUi- taiy Christianity, which produces chivalry, was indispen- sable to the preservation of Christianity in its contest with its new eastern antagonist. Unwarlike Christianity would have been trampled under foot, and have been in danger of total extermination, by triumphant Mohamme- danism." Hallam speaks still more strongly :* — " We may assert, with only an apparent paradox, that, had religion been more pure, it would have been less perma- nent, and that Christianity has been preserved by means of its corruptions." I cannot but think that to write in this manner, is, in eflFecfc, however unintentionally, to betray the cause, not only of Christianity, but of virtue in general. If it can truly be said, that the prevalence, through several succes- sive ages, of falsehood and wrong, was more useful to man- kind than that of truth and right would have been, it appears to me that the received principles of moral duty are effectually shaken. But I am convinced, that the argument here adduced by these excellent writers, involves a fallacy. They note correctly the benefits arising incidentally from a vicious system, but they fail to estimate duly the much greater benefits which would naturally have flowed from the light system. Had Christianity maintained its purity, the whole in- ternal condition of the Roman empire must have been so * "Middle Ages," vol. iii. p. 291. PEKVEESION OP ENGLISH CLERGY. 419 different from that which it became, that it may well be doubted whether its subjugation by the barbarians would ever have been achieved : at least, both in its extent and effects, it would have been greatly modified. The clergy, instead of being ignorant and prejudiced, would have been learned and enlightened ; and the people would have partaken of this light : — a better guarantee for the preservation of books and literature, than either monas- teries, or a Latin liturgy. As regards the military argu- ment, we know that enlightened Christianity, however peaceably disposed, by no means forbids its followers to bear arms, when a righteous cause demands it ; and the examples of the Waldenses, the Huguenots, the Puritans, and a host of others, abundantly prove, that in such a case they do not bear the sword in vain. As against the Mahommedans, however, the arms of the Crusaders were after all of little permanent avail ; and in that contest, Christianity was more weakened by its polytheistic cor- ruptions, than strengthened by its chivalry. It was not a little by the ardour of their new monotheism, as against idolaters, that the foUowers of the Arabian prophet were enabled to subdue so large a portion of the Christian world. Although then, the assertion that Christianity was saved by its corruptions, may be true in some limited sense, still we may assert with greater confidence, that it would have been much better saved, if it had been say ed from its corruptions. How fast and how far we have been drifting in our retrograde course, may be judged from the ominous fact, that within the last ten years, above a hundred clergymen of the Reformed Church of England have openly seceded to that of Rome ; while it is evident, that a much greater utunber, who have shrunk from that decisive step, have E E 2 420 THE APOSTASY. yet, totli in their hearts and in their teaching, abandoned all the distinguishing principles of the Reformation. That among these there have been, and are, many worthy and pious men, is not to be questioned j but this is no more than must also be admitted concemiag multitudes who have been determined promoters of the apostasy, and zealous maintainers of Popish error in all ages. Piety is not wisdom ; and experience has amply shewn, that good intentions are no security against religious delusion. How striking an example of this was Isabella, the great and good Queen of Castile : yet the establisher of the In- quisition,' and exterminator of the unoffending Jews, and mother of a race of bloody persecutors, to the third and fourth generation ! Meanwhile it behoves us to be observant of the signs of the times. After an age of reckless skepticism, an op- posite current seems now to be bearing us toward one of credulity and superstition; and how high this tide will rise we know not. Let us not despise the danger which threatens us. We often flatter ourselves that we live in an establisht day of Gospel light. But this is not yet so. The morning, indeed, dawned, and the sun arose in splendour, but a dim and almost total eclipse soon veiled its radiance. That eclipse is not yet past; and though we behold a portion of the emerging orb, we are still in the penumbra, while dark clouds hang heavily round the horizon. Those who love religious freedom, and genuine Christianity, are noting these things, not without anxiety. But let us not be discouraged. Only, in this great struggle between light and darkness, let us be careful to bear our part, however humble, on the right side. Let us not fail to attach ourselves to that faithful host, who in the language of prophecy, "follow him who rideth on the white horse, and who goeth forth, con- quering, and to conquer." -THE AGE TO COME. 421 CHAPTEE XIV. THE AGE TO COME. Si qiia fata Bmant. — Virgil. Let it not be thought, that in selecting the title which I have prefixed to this chapter, I have affected the function of a prophet, or even of an interpreter of prophecy. I take merely common ground. It is certain that there prevails very extensively in the Christian world, an ex- pectation which concurs with a remarkable prediction found in the prophetic book of the Apokalypse, and with some other passages of sacred Scripture, and which is to this effect : — that there is a better age coming than any which the world has hitherto seen ; — that for the latter days of man's history, there is reserved a long and happy period, in which piety and virtue will at length prevail on the eartL The prophetic style, in which a day commonly sym- bolizes a year, by speaking of this future age as a khiliad, or period of a thousand years, seems to assign to it a very long duration, and figuratively indicates its felicity by the fact of the binding and imprisonment of the Prince of Darkness. Opinions may differ on some points of the interpretation ; but it will be felt by aU, that the passage is grandly conceived, and very impressive. "And I saw an angel conung down from heaven, having the key of 422 THE AGE TO COME. the abyss, and a great cliain in his hand ; and he laid hold on the Dragon, which is Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the abyss, and shut him up, and set a seal on him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years should be ful- filled. And I saw thrones, and they sat on them, and judgment was given to them." There occur many passages of similar general import in other parts of Scripture, especially in the book of Isaiah ; but there is one in the prophet Daniel so splendid and remarkable, that I cannot forbear quoting it. " I saw in the night visions, and behold one Uke to a son of mam, came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of Days, and they brought him near before him. And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages should serve him ; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom one which shall not be de- stroyed."* But independent of prophecy, there are arguments which arise from the contemplation of the case itsel£ When we consider the infinite greatness and goodness of the Creating Power, and the distinguished position which he has assigned to our race, yet withal the brief duration and calamitous character of its pa^t history ; — when we reflect on the maiiifold drama of the nations, and the un- questionable indications of God's moral government over them, together with the seeming incompleteness of its present results : — we find it difficult not to believe, that there is still reserved for the earth's future, some glorious issue, in which the grandeur and beneficence of the divine purposes will be more signally displayed. Utopian and millennial speculations have become so * Chap. viii. 13. CONDITIONS OF THE PROBLEM. 423 proverbial for extravagance and folly, that we are warned of the difficulty of treating this subject with good sense and sobriety. That I may have some chance of doing so, I propose to start with the two following principles. First, to decline the consideration of any swpematural iaUerposUions ; — ^not as that which might not be, but as that of which I am incompetent to speak, Secondly, even within the bounds of what is natural, not to deal with the extremes of possibility, but only with such things, as from the tenor of experience, and the observable ten- dency of human progress, may appear, under the favour of Heaven, to be at least not improbable. But even with these precautions, when we attempt to direct our contemplation to an age of the greatest hap- piness, we feel that we have very inadequate, perhaps very erroneous conceptions, as to what the essential cha- racters of such an age would be. We are apt to fancy, that the prevalence of good must be proportioned to the diminution of evil, and that the fullest triumph of the one, must arise from the total extinction of the other. But though such may possibly be the case with respect to some unknown and higher spheres of being, we know from experience, that with respect to this world of ours, and to human life in particular, it is not so. With us, evil is, in many instances, a natural mean of good : neither the highest virtue, nor the highest pleasure, can have exist- ence without it. It is therefore by no means evident that the best and happiest phase of human history, would be just that in which suffering and sin should most nearly disappear. Certainly, it might be so, but we have no ground to assume that it certainly, or even pro- bably, is so. As &x as we can see, evil as well as good, is an essential element of the moral creation ; in which, like attraction and repulsion in the physical, each of 424 THE AGE TO COME. them has its proper part to play. What measures and forms of evil may be the necessary conditions of th^ greatest virtue and happiness, God only knows. But as for us, we may say with the Ekklesiast : — " Who knoweth what is good for man in his life, all the days of his vain life, which he spendeth as a shadow V Yet we know, that aU moral evil, whatever uses it may serve, is in him who willingly commits it, wickedness and sin, and justly punishable : nay, that it is only under this restraint of punishment, that it is admissible at all. Though sin may sometimes be useful, that justifies not the sinner ; for " he meaneth not so, neither doth his heart think so ;" he neither knows nor cares for that result ; nor if he did, would it acquit him ; for it is not his part ; and he is for- bidden to " do evil that good may come." Ought we then to conclude, that this is a subject on which aU enquiry is vain ? Ought we to thiuk, either that all states of human society are equally favourable to happiness, or that at least it is for us impossible to dis- tinguish those that are more so from those that are less ? Surely not. We are not left wholly in darkness in a matter which so much concerns us, nor are all the lights of history and philosophy given us so much in vain. Est quodam prodire tenus, si non detur ultra. Human ignorance is indeed great and manifold ; but human knowledge also is respectable, and of good fruit ; nor are even the excursions of fancy wholly useless, if they expand our conceptions, animate our hopes, and cheer us onward in the way of virtue. In truth, to some distance we can see clearly. If, for example, we compare the decaying and decrepit condition of the oriental despotisms, such as Turkey or Persia, which now appear to us like the burial-grounds of former WHAT IS NOT TO BE EXPECTED. 425 greatness j — where goTernments, corrupt and feeble, yet rapacious, protect neither person nor property, but are themselves the great spoilers of their people ; — where religion is a bigoted and superstitious formalism; — where society appears to ignore the laws of honour and veracity ; — where domestic life is a jealous tyranny ; — where industry is paralysed by oppression, and arts almost extinct; — where, in short, through the ever-recurring ravages of famine and pestilence, the population, itself is fest diminishing, and the wilderness resuming its ancient reign : — if, I say, we compare the stat« of such countries with that of the flourishing kingdoms of Western Europe, advancing continually in population and wealth, science and art, humanity and freedom, and- in all social refine- ments and comforts; — can we hesitate in pronouncing, that these latter exhibit a greater development of virtue and happiness than the former ? Surely, if we avoid ex- cess of subtlety, and be guided by common sense, we shall find it possible to discern this distinction in nations, as certainly as we do in families and individuals ; and like- wise, to trace the conditions on which it depends. Assuming then that the proposed subject of enquiry is not wholly beyond our powers, and that the characteristic features of a good and happy age are such as we may, in some measure distinguish and appreciate, we will venture to pursue our reflections. And I think that we may ar- range them most conveniently under two heads ; — consi- dering first, what is decidedly not to he expected, and secondly, what may he hoped for not unreasonably. That we cannot, consistently with the known constitu- tion and history of human nature, expect even in the happiest possible condition of this earthly existence, any total exemption from evU, either physical or moral, is too obvious to be dwelt on. But I think we must go further 426 THE AGE TO COUE. and say, that of the several great kinds or forms of evil which now present themselves, we cannot expect that any ■will be reduced to very minute or insignificant propor- tions, or cease to constitute important elements in the economy of human life. With all that virtue and prudence can be supposed to effect, our frail bodies must ever remain liable to injury and pain, from the various accidents and hostile agencies to which they are exposed. The seeds of disease are borne to us in the air that we breathe, and shed on us by the changes of the .sky ; nor is it conceivable, that so long as the doom of mortality shall remain unrepealed, it wiU fail to entail a train of those maladies which are its har- bingers and fulfillers. Nor, again, can we expect, that there will ever cease to be much of toil and endurance in carrying on, in its various forms, the necessary work of human life. This cannot be, unless man should cease to till the heavy clod, to traverse the stormy deep, to excavate the darksome mine, to ply his strength and dexterity in mechanic arts, to plod the tasks of the desk and the study, to unravel the secrets of nature, and achieve the triumphs of genius. In short, the sentence of labour, at once merciful and severe, though it may admit much mitigation, will, for aught we can see, remain essentially uncancelled to the end. Nor, again, is it ■ conceivable that man, however wise and virtuous, will ever in this life, cease to be, more or less, a child of sorrow. Not all his enterprises can be successful ; not all his loves can meet return : nor can he wholly escape the disastrous effects of chance and change in his outward fortune. But, above all, he cannot escape the bereavements of death ; it will stUl be his lot WHAT IS NOT TO BE EXPECTED. 427 to follow the objects of his dearest affections to tli6 tomb, and to shed unavailing tears over their cold and senseless remains. Neither can we expect that mankind will ever cease to suffer more or less from the effects of ignorance and error. Wisdom can never be bom but of experience. Preju- dices will ever spring faster than reason can correct them. Erroneous judgment is inseparable from a being whose correctest reasonings must often be founded on very par- tial evidence, and who not seldom is compelled to adopt practical conclusions of the greatest importance on grounds which warrant little confidence. All the foregoing evils have been purely natural ; they have implied no depravity of disposition, no perverseness of will, no gviilt, no shame. They have been only inno- cent infirmities. But the will and affections of man are not less subject to perversion than his understanding to error: — both these liabilities are equally inseparable from his nature. Yirtue is not bom with him, any more than wisdom. It is formed by culture and discipline, gradually, painftdly ; — ^but while that process advances, even in the happiest case, there must needs, without supernatural grace, be many miscarriages. The most sanguine will hardly indulge an expectation, that the majority of mankind will, in any age, excel those eminent few, who have hitherto been regarded as, Kar e^oxrjv, the excellent of the earth. Yet how much imperfection has been seen, even in them ! How much more than has been seen, have they ever confest ! We dare not then expect, but that among the constant, ineUminable elements of human life, in every future as in every past age, moral evU, vice, sin, with their inseparable accompaniments, shame and sorrow, will continue to be found, and to play 428' THE AGE TO COME. no trifling part. The words of Job wiU not cease to liold good : " Who can bring a clean thing out of an Unclean 1 'No one." What, then, is our general conclusion on this part ot the subject? That human life, here on earth, must be expected ever to remain essentially what it has been from the beginning; — ^a mingled scene of wisdom and folly, good and evil, weal and woe : though haply its general aspect, in regard to the proportions of these, may be greatly lightened, and instead of resembling a dark and cloudy day, with transient gleams of sunshine amid storms and rain, it may assume the likeness of serene weather, when only partial clouds, and passing showers, chequer, but not obscure, the brightness of the summer sky. But let us now turn to the brighter side of the pro- spect, and expatiate a little on those happy circumstances of the age to come, which reason does allow us to antici- pate. And here I will venture to make this remark : — that though we must not expect the extermination of evil, we may, by the Divine favour,- expect the decided prevalence of good. And by this I mean, that a majority of mankind will at length be found, in a fair degree, wise and virtuous ; that public sentiment and public laws and usages, as determined ^by this majority, will partake of the same character; and that in consequence, a period of general happiness- and prosperity^ hitherto wnexampled, wiU ensv£. But it may be asked, whether apart from a supernatural interposition of Providence, there appear to be any means by which such an expectation can be realized? I ven- ture to answer this question in the affirmative. In all things, indeed, we depend on the Divine blessing, without which we plough and sow, and plant and buUd, in vain.- But speaking according to nature, the unfoldings of GROWTH OP KNOWLEDGE. 429 human character are determined by certain conditions, and result from the concurrence of certain causes. It is thus that in past ages, vaist numbers of wise and good men, and many eminently so, have already appeared. Now we have only to suppose, that, in a future age, the causes which formed these characters should act more ex- tensivelyand powerfully, and the means are given by which wisdom and virtue may become generally prevalent. The primary principle of human improvement appeai-s to be the growth and diffusion of knowledge. This is the lever that is able to move the world. Truth is the food of the soul ; and by the knowledge of truth the understanding is nourished, and not the understanding only, but the whole inward and spiritual man. Now we may venture to say, that knowledge is essentially progres- sive, and that with its increasing age, the world, taken as a whole, naturally tends to grow wiser. One discovery leads to another. Every succeeding generation has the benefit of the advances of its predecessors, and starts in its researches where they terminated theirs : and this advantage is multiplied by every improvement in the means of record and^communication, by which the know- ledge of all ages and nations is brought, as it were, into a common treasury. Hitherto ignorance and error have reigned over mankind, largely and perniciously. But truth is mighty, and will prevail. Error is transient, truth eternal. It may be long in coming ; but it seems reasonable to believe, that on all the most important questions, delusion will at length be dissipated, and truth established. Then what fountains of mischief will be dried up ; — what healing springs will be opened ! But it is not of all knowledge that we speak. There is a knowledge which is frivolous and vain, and there is a know- ledge which comes of evil, and ministers to sin. That know- 430 THE AGE TO COMB. ledge from whicli human improTcment Ls to be expected, is of a very different order. It is an acquaintance with those truths, which are at once interesting and salutary to con- templation, and of high practical importance : — the know- ledge, so fiir as is permitted us, of the Supreme Being, his ways and his will j the noblest, most necessary, and most delightful knowledge of which we are capable, and which, above all things, marks our pre-eminence above the lower animals : — the knowledge of human rights and duties, which is moral philosophy : — ^the knowledge of the prin- ciples of material prosperity, which is political economy : — - the knowledge of history, which is the great legacy of time, and the treasury of practical wisdom : — the know- ledge of the constitution and laws of nature, everywhere a revelation of God, most delightful and instructive to contemplate, and rich in aU practical utilities. In short, there is no part of the real truth of things, whether of God above, or of man below, or of the beautiful and bene- ficent constitution of the world around us, which does not yield us both improvement and pleasure. For our souls are like mirrors, and reflect that which they con- template. It is to be remembered, that the absence of knowledge implies, for the most part, not only ignorance, but error. In almost every country on earth, what a host of extrava- gant and baseless fables, what irrational, gloomy and per- nicious doctrines, are inculcated by the priesthoods, and accepted by the people, for religious truth ! They attri- bute to the Deity what we should justly loathe even in man; and demand veneration for puerilities which de- serve nothing but contempt. Again in morals, what false maxims and sentiments prevail in society, such as go to justify pride, luxury, deceit, revenge and even murder ! How loose and faulty are the principles which GEO'WTH OP KNOWLEDGE. 43l are commonly applied to political and international affairs ! In short, in how great a degree the coming of the happy age is dependent on the removal of error, is indicated by the words of the prophecy itself For unto what end is the evil one said to be bound during that period, but that he may cease to deceive the nations 1 And when afterwards he is loosed, why is it that trouble-s return, but that he goes forth to deceive them again 1 It has been the opinion of some men of the mystical class, and I believe it is so still, that the wisest ages of the earth were the earliest, and that most of the know- ledge of later days is but a fragmentary reUque of anti- quity. So far, however, as actually surviving monuments enable us to compare the attainments of past and present generations, it wiU hardly be disputed that this sentence must be reversed, in favour of the moderns. Greece was, as far as we know, the most enlightened of ancient nations. Yet what competent judge would hesitate to admit, that philosophy, in all its branches, moral and intellectual as well as physical, has greatly advanced since the time of Aristotle and Plato ? It is to be observed, that in the case of the world at large, as in that of individual men, much of that know- ledge which is of the greatest practical value, is derived from experience, and the discipline of life and events. Now such knowledge is preserved, not merely by monu- mental inscriptions and historic records : — it is imprest on the living memory of mankind, and floats down the stream of time, in the shape of establisht maxims aiid popular belief. In this manner many great and invaluable axioms, or lessons, have already become engraven among the world's convictions. Such are those of the essential and indissoluble connexion between piety toward God, and virtue toward men: — of the inefficacy^ as well as wickedness, 4;32 THE AGE TO COME. of religious persecution : — of the bad economy, as well as cruelty, of slavery :^-of the tendency of democratic excesses to military despotism : — of the stability which a state derives from allowing fi-eedom of speech and writing : — of the superiority of mixed to simple forms of government : — of the incompatibility of freedom with yice : — of the impolicy of commercial restrictions and monopolies : — of the great importance of having all public business, and especially all judicial proceedings, transacted openly. Such lessons were not learnt in a day ; but we may trust, that being now learnt, they will long be retained, and that many others, of like value, will pro- gressively augment the treasure. But along with the growth, or improvement, of know- ledge, there is reason to expect also its greater diffusion. It makes a vast difference in practical effect, whether know- ledge be confined to a few far-seeing philosophers and learned recluses, or imparted generally to the people. In fact, what do we not see already, in the wojiderful age in which it is our lot to live ? — The arts of printing and en- graving pouring forth their instructive and entertaining leaves among all ranks, in abundance hitherto unexampled; yea, light itself turning artist in our service :-— societies, lectures, exhibitions, libraries, museums, everywhere insti- tuted, and converting our whole country, as it were, into one great university : — swift steam-ships crossing every sea, and making intercourse easy, even between the anti- podes : — railways transporting men and goods from land to land almost with the speed of wind, while electric tele- graphs convey intelligence, literally with that of light- ning, not only over land, but under the ocean, thus promising ere long to encircle the globe. Meanwhile, who shall over-reckon the power of that young giant, educa- tion, to a sense of the awful importance of whose great IMPROVEMENT OP PUBLIC OPINION. 433 mission society seems at length to be just awakening t His motto is the old and well approved maxim — " Train up a child in the way he should go." He goes forth, led by philanthropy, through highways and byeways, among the hale and sturdy, but neglected children of the peasan- try, and the ragged and sickly, but often too quick-witted, urchins, who crowd our city courts and alleys ; and brings them all to school. Truly we may hope for much from him. 'Tis now seed time : the harvest is to come. The diffusion of knowledge would, of course, be accom- panied with an increase of those salutary influences which ic naturally exerts on the mind and conduct of all those who partake in it. But over and above this its direct influ- ence on each individual, we must make account of that re- flected agency which it would exercise through the medium of public sentiment, or opinion. This is in itself a mighty power. It is well said, that opinion rules tlie world ; and Byron, not without reason, has called it an omnipotence. Hitherto, through the prevalence of ignorance and pre- judice, it is not easy to say, whether this potent influence has oftener been exerted for good or for evU. Very diffe- rent would be the case, if sound knowledge should ever per- vade society. Then public sentiment would become enlightened and wise. Its influence would be decidedly for good, and it would be difficult to over-estimate the effects of this turn of the scale. To the bulk of mankind, public opinion stands for the immediate rule of right. It is the great dictator of manners and customs, the awarder of social honour and disgrace. Once fairly prepondfe- rating on the right side, it seems alone capable of effect- ing a social revolution. How great changes it has wrought in the habits of British society, even within living, memory, may be seen in the instances of intempe- rance, profane swearing, and duelling. F p 434 THE AGE TO COME. But the improvement of public opinion becomes the' parent of another salutary influence, hardly less important thati itself, which is that of improved laws and govern- ment The influence of these on human welfare, has, per- haps, by some been overrated. But when Goldsmith says, — " How small a part of all that men endure. Is that which laws, or kings, can cause or cure," he plainly errs on the other side. It is certain that the influence of political government, for good or ill, is im- mense. History amply proves, that it involves all the interval between justice and oppression, between freedom and slavery, between plenty and scarcity, between security and terror, between peace and war, between prosperity and desolation. Nor are its effects confined to these out- ward circumstances : they extend to the inner man of society, — to religion, to morals, to intelligence ; — ^in short, to all that distinguishes a nation virtuous and noble, from one that is corrupted and debased. I have now mentioned three leading powers or prin- ciples, as those from whose progressive improvement we may venture to anticipate the advent of a better age. They are, knowledge, especially that of religious and moral truth, public opinion, and public law : and I trust, that in regarding these as capable, under God's providen- tial favour, but without supernatural interposition, of effecting, in the latter days, a general prevalence of virtue and happiness among mankind, I shall not be thought to have transgressed the bounds of truth and soberness. It may, moreover, be observed, that in coming to this conclusion, no account has been made of one particular, which nevertheless may in reality be of no inconsiderable importance. I mean the possibility of progressive im- provement in the natural dispositions of our race, as de- POSSIBLE IMPROVEMENT OF RACE. 435 pendent on its physiological d&odopment. This is confessedly a subject on which but little accurate know- ledge has yet been attained. Philosophy, however, plainly leans to the opinion, that the prevalent habits of men do produce permanent effects on the psychical organism, and such as may more or less be transmitted to their offspring. But this ifl a point to which it must suffice to have just alluded in passing. Since then it appears, that the expectation of a good age to come, ought not to be regarded as a visionary dream, but as one which rests on sober and rational arguments, I trust that, without presumption, we may indulge ourselves, for a little while, in contemplating some fea- tures of its happiness. The main constituent, the essential condition, of a happy age, must unquestionably be found in the prevalence of true religion, — of enlightened piety. Man, — a reflect- ing being, and conscious of moral responsibility, and a capacity of indefinitely prolonged existence, — can never be truly happy, unless his heart be right with God, and enjoy an assurance of his favour. Without this, he labours under a deep and remediless malady. He may laugh or weep, be busy or gay, but he is not well. " As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow While the stream runs in darkness and coldness below. So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile While the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while." An increase of piety indeed cannot come but by the special gift of God, and the breathing of his spirit on the nations. Yet is his grace not usually independent of natural causes and fitting conditions, and where these are present, experience has shown that we are warranted in expecting it. The dreadful ignorance of religious truth which has everywhere prevailed, and especially the foul F p 2 436 THE AGE TO COME. corruptions by which the holy light of the Gospel itself has been turned into noisome darkness, have hitherto greatly hindered this gracious influence from unfolding itself. But anticipating the propitious operation of the causes already mentioned, and trusting in the merciful purposes of Heaven toward mankind, we venture to believe that a time will come when true religion shall at length prevail on the earth, and the children of men no longer be insensible of the goodness of God : — when, as it is written, " the kingdoms of the world shall become the kingdoms of God and of his Anointed One, and all men shall know him, from the least unto the greatest." But the love of God cannot exist unaccompanied with the'love of man. Piety and philanthropy flow from the same fountain, and the two great commandments will be fulfilled together. Hence an age of trvie religion wUl also be one of brotherly love ; — oi phUadelphy. Could we but anticipate the unfolding of this principle among mankind in full perfection, we should seem to scent again the gales of Eden, and to hear the murmurs of the streams of Paradise. Perhaps, however, it is too much to hope that human nature, in its present phase, will ever be so blest. But keeping within the limits of the soberest probability, it is obvious that in proportion as brotherly love shall prevail, a host of the evUs which at present most trouble human life, will cease. To love is to be happy; and all that is contrary to love, — envy, hatred, revenge, deceit, and all selfishness, — is just so much misery. " Love worketh no ill to his neighbour ;" and where it reigns all wrongs and injuries will disappear. In that day, the present unjust and sel^sh engrossment of property by a few, will be superseded by a fair and generous distribution of the means of living throughout the community ; and thus, while luxury and extravagance PAIE PIFFUSION OF PROPERTY. 437 will disappear on the one hand, and sordid penury on the other, competence and comfort will be diffused throughout society. With poverty too wiU depart the necessity for that excessive toil which now weighs so heavily on human life, but which brotherly love, willingly bearing its own share of labour, will no longer seek to impose.. Thus plenty and peace, and with them, cheerfulness and health, will bless the earth. How large a part of human woes will then have departed ! What an amount of new enjoy- ment will be felt in countless homes ! But it is not merely an economical and physical pros- perity that we look for. We cherish, with Charming, "a firm belief, that our present low civilization, the central idea of which is wealth, cannot last for ever ; that the mass of men are not doomed, hopelessly and irre- sistibly, to the degradation of mind and heart in which they are now sunk ; that a new comprehension of the end and dignity of a human being, is to remodel social institutions and manners ; that in Christianity, and in the powers and principles of human nature, we have the promise of something holier and happier than now exists."* Turning now from private to public affairs, I might say much on the blessings which would flow from the im- provement of civil government. But it is almost superfluous to remark, that Ia days when the voluntary good conduct of wise and virtuous communities would prevent the ne- cessity of much interference from above, either to restrain wrongs, or enforce rights, the functions of political rulers, the most essential part of which is coercive and defensive would be much contracted. Not that we espouse the doctrine of the Fifth Monarchy men, or such other en- thusiasts as have imagined that in the latter days, all * Preface to his works. 438 THE AGE TO COME. civil authority will be superseded by the personal reign of Christ and the saints. That opinion appears to be as groundless as it is dangerous. But certainly in such an age as we contemplate, we should be inclined to conceive of the civil rulers, no longer as those stately and for- midable personages, so budge and despotic, before whom the world has been used to tremble, but rather as the officers of some great philanthropic society, appointed by free choice of the members, for the better attainment of those objects which all have at heart ; — benevolent, mild, and fatherly men, consulting in all things the common wUl for the common weal. In those days we may hope that paternal government will no longer be a dream or a pretence, and that a civil community will bear some real resemblance to a family of loving brethren. This happy state of domestic affairs will be confirmed by the prevalence oi friendly relations between foreign nations. The progressive force of public opinion, brand- ing with reprobation the wickedness and madness of war, except in cases of absolute necessity, wiU make its occur- rence all but impossible. A universal peace will, there- fore, prevail, far more perfect and abiding than that by which, in the beginning, the birth of the Prince of Peace was attended, and which Milton has so finely sung : — "No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around ; The idle spear and shield were high uphung ; The hooked chariot stood TJnstain'd by hostile blood : The trumpet spake not to the armed throng : And kings sat still, with awful eye. As if they surely knew their sovereign lord was by.'' Meanwhile unrestricted coTnmerce will spread her sails on every sea, and penetrate all lands with her flying traina. Travellers wUl visit with ease and safety the TEUE PATERNAL GOVERNMENT. 439 most distant regions. The goods of the world will be brought together as in a common market, and all nations meet, as on one great exchange. Nor -will they impart to each other only their material products, but all that is greatest and best in the fruits of mind ; — in science, letters, and arts. Thus all nations will contribute to. one great intellectual treasury, which they will possess and use in common. How glorious a spectacle will be these friendly intercourses, and mutual services, between all the varied tribes of the human race ! Of such an age what may not be expected t Surely they think meanly of the progressive powers of man, of the secret wealth of nature, and of the bountiful designs of Heaven, who imagine that our present achievements have nearly reached the limits of the attainable. On the contrary, we may well believe that no past age has been so rude and dark in comparison with this, but that to the men of the age to come, this present age will ap- pear, in comparison with their own, still darker and ruder. We have heard, indeed, that the world is already in its dotage : but with much better reason we may con- ceive that it is even yet in its infancy, and in anticipation of its fature progress say with the poet : — " This is the bud of being, the dim dawn. The twilight of our day, the vestibule." But there is one fruit of brotherly love which requires' for its attainment no profound researches, no brilliant discoveries, but concerning which, nevertheless, it has hitherto been our lot to say with sorrow — " Which though so near us, yet beyond ua lies ;" a blessing which when it shall come, will be the crown of all. It is religious union, — peace in the chv/rches. The surprising diversities of religious belief which sub- 440 THE AGE TO COME. sist among mankind, and the bigoted antipathies -which they engender, are both of them things which have defi- nite and assignable causes ; nor is there anything in the nature of these causes, which forbids us to hope tliat they will one day be overcome. The only wonder is that their influence has lasted so long. It is reasonable to expect, that the progress of religious knowledge will, for the most part, supersede these diversities of opinion ; or, if some of them should still remain, that men will come to regard them with milder and kinder feelings. Hitherto, these presumed errors of judgment have commonly been viewed in the most unfavourable light, imputed to the worst motives, judged with the utmost severity, and too often visited with the most cruel treatment The men of a wiser and better age will be more tolerant and merciful in these cases. They will willingly believe, that the com- monFather of all embraces, as his children, all who sincerely seek his favor, whatever be their errors and imperfections j and believing their brethren to be thus accepted of Him, they will themselves love them, and feel assured that in so doing they also please God. If, as we trust, our belief in Christianity be well- founded, then will that religious truth in which the world will at length agree, be, in eflfect, no other than the Gos- pel of Christ. And then will that blessed doctrine, which of all good things has been most perverted and abused, at last shine forth, through all the earth, in the lustre of its own beauty and simplicity. Men will then distinguish in it that catholic basis in which all its sin<5ere and scrip- tural disciples agree, and will acknowledge that this basis comprises all that is essential to its saving purpose ; — all that is necessary for full Christian fellowship. Hence heresies and schisms, those odious- bugbears of Christen- dom, will no more interfere with the unity of the Church. EELIGIOUS PEACE. 441 There will truly be one chwreh, co-extensive with the human race : — not one hierarchical fabric, under an earthly head; but one great congregation of spiritual fellow- worshippers, Tinited by a common belief and an all-em- bracing love ; — " with one mind, one mouth, glorifying the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ." And this phrase, — wilh one mcnUh, — may it not, along with a higher meaning, be found to comprehend this also ; — that the Christian Church universal shall find at length a sensible token and expression of its unity, in the knowledge and utterance of a common tongue ? The Jews, scattered over the earth, have cemented their brotherhood by keeping alive the original language of the Old Testament. The Mahomedans quote that of the Koran, the Hindoos that of the Vedas. If dialects comparatively so harsh and rude as the Hebrew, the Arabic, and the Sanscrit, so barren in their literature, and so little allied to those of the more civilized nations, receive such honour ; — is it not befitting Christians to show the like, or even more respect, to their own sacred langicage ? And the Gfreek is not only the sacred language of Christianity, but by Divine Providence, that also of the Muses, of Science and of Freedom ; — its literature also is the noblest that has survived the flood of time. The Hellenic language and literature is, in truth, the grandest antiquity in the world. Distinguished by xtnrivalled beauty and ingenuity, and the head-spring of European etymology, this language is daily becoming, more and more, the common fountain of intellectual phraseology to aU mankind. It would not be unworthy of the Gospel, amid its greater triumphs, to reverse the doom of Babel ; and while it was uniting all nations in one holy brother- hood, to enable them also, by the use of Greek, as a sup- plement to their vemacula/rs, to hold communion in a 442 THE AGE TO COME. common tongue : — a greater and better gift even than that of Pentecost. Surely no Christian who cannot read the records of his faith in their original, has a right to deem himself well educated. The prevailing neglect of our sacred language among us, is, indeed, passing strange ; and we pay the penalty of it in ignorance of our religion, and a degrading subjection to priestcraft.* From the world, the language of ancient Greece has received more honour : and a bard, with whom the Gospel w;as of little account, but who could well appreciate the writings of its poets and sages, has sung of it worthily : — " Still shall thine annals, and immortal tongue, FUl with thy fame the youth of many, a shore ; Boast of the aged, lesson of the young. Which sages venerate, and bards adore, As Pallaa and the Muse unveil their awful lore." It seems to be the common opinion, that the miUennium is represented in Scripture, aS a visible or personal reign of Christ, together with the saints of the first resurrection, on the earth. Yet this is not written ; and it seems more agreeable to Scripture to suppose that those saints will abide with Christin Heaven, and that their reign on earth will be spiritual. . Misapprehension on this point has been the source of much fanatical extravagance. We may, * The neglect of the Greek among Christians has, in fact, been in a great measure the worjs; of Home, and is among the fruits of the Apostasy. Triumphant Latinism decreed that the Vulgate version of the New Testament was of equal authority with the original, and that the knowledge of this latter was therefore superfluous, even for the clergy. It studiously closed every avenue to Greek scholarship, except through itself ; and what is most curious of all, it deprived the Greek entirely of its ovm accentuation, though preserved by its grammarians with unexampled care, imposing the Latin rule in its stead: — a piece of wanton tyranny under which it still labours. Foster prettily says, that Greek may complain with poor Philomela in the epigram : — TXuaaav ejifiv tBkpwac, Kal ka^taiv '&Xa.ia favriv. COMMON LANCUAGK 443 indeed, believe it possible, that the happiness of that age of grace may be.crowned with a renewal of celestial signs, and with communications between the dwellers on earth and the holy ones in glory. Still, even for this, we must acknowledge that we have no certain warrant of Scripture, and that in matters of this kind, it is impossible for us to be too diffident of our own judgment. There remains the inquiry respecting the tirne of these things ; — when they shall be, and how long they shall endure ? We may be well assured, that notwithstanding all the discoveries of prophecy, the precise time, as well as the exact form and fashion, of future events, will always be hidden from mortals. These things the Father retains in his own power ; and if they were but partially revealed even to the holy Jesus, much less will they be so to his disciples. Many of those who of late years have interpreted prophecy among us with most distinction, appear to me to have fallen into some degree of error, in assuming that the commencement of the Khiliad, or thousand years of hap- piness, will synkhronize vM, the tennination of the great prophetic period q/ 1260 years,, during which the witnesses prophesy in sackcloth, and the true Church abides in the wilderness. It is true, that the beginning of the millennium is abundantly represented as synkhronizing with the fmal overthrow of Babylon, and destruction of the beast and false prophet. But that these last are to coincide with the close of the 1260 years, is by no means so clear. On the contrary, it appears more agreeable to the prophecy, to suppose that between these events a period of consi- derable, though unspecified duration, will intervene. The ascent of t/ie witnesses to heaven, when a tenth part of the city of Babylon fell, seems to be only the first great shock wiven to the kingdom of Antichiist, forming the culmina- 444 THE AGK TO COME. ting point from which his power begins to wane. As such it well accords with the Protestant Beformation in the sixteenth century, which took place, as before observed, just about 1260 years after the ascension of the first Christian Emperor, Constantine. The notable decay of the hierarchical power from that time, or even earlier, is acknowledged on all hands. "Five centuries," writes HaUam, " have now elapsed, during every one of which the authority of the Roman See has successively declined. Those who know what Rome has once been, are best able to appreciate what she is : those who have seen the thun- derbolt in the hands of the Gregories and the Innocents, will hardly be intimidated at the sallies of decrepitude, the impotent dart' of Priam amid the crackling ruins of Troy."* Supposing then, that there is to be a considerable inter- mediate duration, between the end of the 1260 years and the beginning of the KhUiad, it wiU follow, if the views above taken be correct, that it is ditring this interval that we are now living. It is the period in which the prophecy appears to place, first, the flying of the angel in the midst of heaven with the everlasting gospel to preach to all nations, and secondly, a part at least, if not the whole, of the series of judgments indi- cated by the pouring out of the phials containing the seven last plagties, ending with the destruction of Babylon, and the capture and perdition of the beast and pseudo- prophet. I am not aware that of the duration of this intermediate period any intimation is given j but its close, in the events last mentioned, is represented as immediately ushering in the millennium. The duration of this happy period itself appears to be plainly stated at a thousand years. But the question * " Middle Ages," chap. 7. WHEN WILL THESE THINGS BE? iiS arises whether this term ought to be understood literally, or according to the common prophetic symbolism. In the latter case each day represents a year, and the whole period would be 360 thousand years. But it is likely that, as a round number, the term, a thousand years, may here be used indefinitely, and indicate only soTne very long dura- tion. If it be considered that the events of which we are speaking, are represented as completing the dealings of the Eternal with an entire race of his rational creatures, and closing the whole economy of human existence in this world, we shall probably deem that interpretation of the prophecy to be the most i-easonable, which affords most room for the development of the grandeur and beneficence of the Divine purposes. This view of the matter would also seem to receive support from the remarkable facts, which, of late years, have been brought to light by the researches of geological science. These appear to have established, on most trust- worthy evidence, that before the dweUing of man on this globe, there elapsed periods of immense duration, in which it was passing through a series of progressive changes, both in its physical condition and in its organized inhabitants, by which it was gradually being prepared for his reception. After so long a preparation, is it not rea- sonable to believe, that the great consummating scene of this sublime drama will be of some proportionate duration? But, perhaps, our thoughts are venturing too far. Let us then caU them home. We have to acknowledge with philosophic humility, that the problem of the world's greatest happiness is yet unsolved. The form, the time, the result of that solution, are known only to God. It has been attempted, I trust without presumption, to suggest some crude and imperfect views of that consum- mation, siich as the known history of mankind, and the 446^ THE AGE TO COKE. foreshadowings of holy writ, seem to render, in their main outline, not improbable. Too little has, doubtless, been advanced, to satisfy those who interpret, with san- guine enthusiasm, the glowing and metaphoric language of prophecy ; yet probably more than the wisdom of the world will allow to. pass without the smile, perhaps the sneer, of incredulity. The writer has not sought to unroll, before the time, the mysterious scroll of the future. Hi a aim has been only to improve so far that glimpse of the chart of destiny which is permitted us, as to afford, both to individuals and the community, some salutary guidance in this voyage of life : that apprehending more clearly the great objects to be attained, and the direction in which to steer ; and receiving encouragement from the pleasing, though dim and distant view of the bright scenes to which we tend ; — we may be enabled to conduct our course with more confidence of correctness, and better hope of success. In closing these reflexions, some solemn thoughts naturally arise, which must not altogether be denied utterance. The struggle between good and evU is a dark, deep, eternal mystery. That awful, undying, hundred- headed Typhon, even though bound and cast into the abyss of Tartaros, is yet mighty, and ever struggles to rend his chain, and burst forth again, in a fiery flood, upon the nations. The prophetic word even intimates that thus it must be : — ^that fie Tmist once more he loosed for a little season ; and that the glories even of the millen- nial reign, will again, before the final consummation of human destiny, be obscured for a time by the return of darkness and calamity. Such a catastrophe wiU perhaps be an inevitable reaction of nature, more indulged thaa her frailty could bear. This, meantime, we know, and shall do well to con- HEFLEXIONS. 447 sider : — ^that whatever of good be destined for the race of man, it can come to them only iy the diffiision throughout society of wisdom, virtue, and piety. This is the eternal and indispensable condition. It is not on the increase of wealth, the refinements of policy, the achievements of valour, the discoveries of science, or the progress of arts, that the unfolding of a happy age essentially depends, though certainly, in their place, these may contribute to it. It is only in proportion as truth and justice, purity and love, shall prevail among men, hallowed and sustained by religious faith and piety, that this happy day can ever be realized : only so long as they shall prevail, that it can endure. With their decay, when that shall be, the days of war, and woe, and desolation, wUl return. By the decree "of heaven, all human good is conditional on human virtue. And comes there not, — even while we thus anticipate these good things, — comes there not to each one of us, short-lived mortals, a secret sigh ? It is when we think, that among all the dwellers on the earth who shall be favoured to see those days, it is next to certain, that neither we, nor our children, shall be found : — that ere then, we shall have no more a portion in all that is done under the sun : — that we do but stand, like Moses on the top of Pisgah, beholding a land of promise afar off, into which, in this natural life at least, we shall never enter. If haply our minds are excited, as those of some have seemed to be, with an over-eager concern about the earth's future, such reflexions as these may serve to calm them. But if we feel our spirits thereby depressed with a melancholy not unnatural, it only remains that we en- deavour to reanimate them with those still brighter prospects which are afforded us by religious fiiith. This extends our view to a happy land of sovls, an elysium of 448 THE AGE TO COILE. un&.(ling blessedness, whicla lies in no climate of this ter- raqueous globe, but is fixed beyond the dark portals of the grave : — " In regions pure, of calm and Berene air, Above the smoke and stii' of this dim spot, Which men call earth :" — a realm of sethereal light, of which the senses of the flesh can take no cognizance, and into which we cannot enter, " till our corruptible shall have put on inoorruption, and our mortal shall be clothed with immortality." Tn that happy state, — ^if it should be granted us to attain to it,-;— it may possibly be among our privileges, — as seems to be intimated by the prophecy, — to have some part in the millennial reign of Christ on the earth. But however this may be, there will be no cause for regret. The life of man here below, even in the happiest age, will still be invaded by sin and sorrow, and probably by death. It is therefore with good reason that we are taught, not to set our affections on any earthly things, but on those that are above. We probably shall not live to see the millennium on this earth : but our hopes are directed to something better : — " a new heaven, and a new earth, wlierein dweUeth righteousness; — where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, — neither shall there be any more pain ; for the former things will have passed away." TEAOS.