ILLUSTRATIONS

OF

POLITICAL ECONOMY.

BY

It AtlRIET MARTINEAU.

THE FARRERS OF BUDGE.ROW.

THE _IORAL OF _IANY FABLES,

I_N WINE I'OLUMES.

YOL. IX.

LONDON:

CtlAI:LES FOX, PATERNOSTEI.'.-P_OW.

_a_c_cxxx_v.

LONDON :

Duke-stret, t, L:*mbeth,

CONTENTS.

THE FARRERS OF BUDGE-ROW.

CIlAP, PAGE CIIIP, p.kGli_

1. Budge.row again ! 1 5. How to enterta|n2. Be[ngRoman at Rome o Strangers . 903. 1)eath-ChamberSooth- 6. How to entertain

ings .... 35 Borrowers. . 105

4. Gos_ipingAuthorship 55 7. Farewell to Budge-row ..... 113

THE MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

Introduction 1 PXRT II.--Emigratlon . 76PAB'r I._PI_.ODUCT1ON. 2 PAI_'I' III.--ExcHxmlZ • 85

Large Farms. 21 ---- Currency . 88

_ Slavery . . 27 ---- Free Trade 96I'.utT II.--D_sTlaBv'rloN 32 -- Corn- Laws

Rent, _3_ages, and Restric-and Profits. 41 tlons on La-

Combinations bout . ll6of _YorkmeB 48 Pxr_wIV.--CONSUI_P'I'ION127

_--. Pauperism . 62 ----Taxes • . 133"ireland . 74 Conclusion .... 140

FARREII_ OF BUDGE-RO_V.

IEaIt.

HARRIET 5IAltTIN EAU.

LONDON:

CtlARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.

1834.

CONTENTS.

CHAP. PA_X

1. Budge-Row again ! • _ , , 1

2 Being Roman at Rome ...... 19

3. Death Chamber Soothings ..... 35

4. Gossiping Author_,hlp ...... 55

5. Itow to entertain Strangers . . • 9{)

6. How to entertain Borrowers . . 105

7. Farewell to Budge-Row ...... 113

.NOTICE.

No. XXV. will close the Series of " Illustrations

of Pohtical Economy." It will cov.tain a Sum-

mary of the Principles of the Work.

It appears to me, however, that the subject of

Taxation requires a development of some of the

facts of our financial system, such as could not

well be given among my illustrations of prineio

ples. I shall therefore issue, without any pause

or change of plan, a few Numbers, probably six,of ILLUSTRATIONS OF TAXATION.

H.M.

THE

FARRERS OF BUDGE-ROW.

CHAPTER _.

BUDGE-ROW AGAIN !

" Pa_xY open the rdndow, )[organ," said ,]_aneFarrer to the oht servant who _as assisting herto arrange for tea the room in which the tamilyhad dined.

" Perhaps you don't know, Ma'am, Mint aeutting_xind it is. More like December thanMarch, Miss ,lane ; hitter enough to help on yourrheumatism, my dear."

And Morgan paused, with her hand on the sash.Miss Farrer chose that the room should be re-freshed. She was aware that the scents from the

shop were at all times strong enough for thenerves of any (me unaccustomed to the atmo-

sphere she lived in; amt she did not _xisIl thather brother Henry should have to encounter inaddition those which the dinner had left behind.She tied a handkerchief over her head while theMarch wind blew in chilly, and Morgan appliedherself to light the fire. When the dinner-tablewas set hack against the wall, and the small

24

BUDGE-ROW AG,klN _.

Pemt)roke tabl,, brought f,arward, and t!_e soSa,with its l,ro_n c.'_tou c,)ver, v,b('ei,'d rouh,1,and the two candh,.tlck_, wlth _hole candlesin them, phteed m front of the tea-tray, MissFarrer thought she would _ up into lteurv'sroom, and see that a]l was right there, before sheput off' her black stuff' apron, and turned downtlJe cuffs of her gown, and took her seat besidethe fire.

She tried to look at everyttfiug whh the evesshe t;tnele,t her young brother would bring fi'_m_th..' umversltv. She, who had lived for five-and-thirty _ears in this very house, at the corner of

Bud)e Rmv, among t_is very furmture, couldnot reasonably expect to viex( either the one orthe other as it wouid appear to a youth of two-and-twmlty, who had li_ed in a fitr diff'erent scene,and among such companions as Jane had no ideaof. It _as some vague notion of this improba-bility that made her hnger about Henry's littleapartment, and wonder whether he wouid thinkshe ought to have put up a stuff" curtain beforethe window, and whether he had been accustomedto a bit of carpet, and whether the soap out ofher tather's sire t, was such as he eouht use. Thencame the odd mixture of feelmgs,--that her fa-ther's younffest son ought not to dream of luxuriesthat Ins elder brother and sisters had not had,-and yet that Henry was a scholar and a gentle-man, and therefore unavoidably held in awe bythe family. When she reverted to the time, wellremembered, when she upheld the little fellow,and coaxed him to set one tiny plump foot before

_unOE-ROW AGAIN! 3

the other, the idea of being now half afraid toreceive him made her smile and then siTh, andhope that good might come of her fittber's ambi-tion to give a stm of hi_ a university educati(m.

Before she had finished nmkmg lierself an neatas usual, and rather more dressed, sl:e beard,amidst all the noises that came in from the nar-row bustling street, her own name called from tt:ebottom of the stairs.

'" I'm coming, father !--It never can be Henryvet. q'ho i)ostman'_ bell is but just gone by, andthe six o'clock cries are not all over ; and theresound the chimes. It is full five minutes' walk

trom Lad-lane, too. Perhaps there is somethingmore to be done at the books: so i will carry

down nay apron,--Why, Morgan, it is well I dillnot throw you down stairs."

Morgan's face, entrenched in its nlob cap, wltsjust visible in the twilight, peeping into the roomfrom tlle steep, narrow stair upon which thechamber-door directly opened, bile came to saythat her master wanted Miss Jane ; ttmt he wasin a great hurry, and seemed to have some goodnews to toll.

Mr. Farrer was bustling about, apparently ina state of croat happiness. His brown wigseemed to sit lightly on his crown; his shoescreaked very actively; his half/_histle betokeneda light heart, and he looked the fire as if he hadforgotten how nmch coals were a bushel. Ilestretched out his arms when his daughter camedown _ith a lo()k of inquiry, and kissed her oneither check, saying,

4 BUDGI_oROW AGAIN !

" I lmve news for thee, my dear. I say,Norgan, let us have plenty of [_uttere_t toast,--plcuty and hot. Well, Jenny,--life is shortenough to some folks. Of all people, w!_o doyou think are dead _."

Jane saw that it was nobody that she wuuld

be expected to grieve about." She had fallenenough into her father's uav ¢_f thinking to con-jecture aright,--timt some of the lot of lives _ithwhich her lather and she ',',ere joined in a tontinemmuity had f:dl,,d.

'" Poor souls ! Yes : Jerry IIi]l and his brother,_both gone together of a fever, in the samehouse. Who would have thought it._ Bothyounger lives than mine, by some years. I haveno doubt they thought, many a time, that minewould be the first to fail. But tiJi_ is a fineinvention,--this way of purchasing ammities,--thou_zh I was against it at first, as being toonmct[ like a lottery for a sober man to venture

upon. But, I say; Jane, I hope you are glad Imade yon invest your money in this way. Youhad a right to look to coming into their lives,sooner or later; but one would har,llv have ex-pected it in my time ; though, somebody', 1 alwayshad a notion it would turn out _o."

Jane's colour ha,1 been much raised, from thefirst di_-elosure of the news. She now askedwhether tllese were not the last lives of the lot,out of their own family ;--_hether her father's,her brother Michael's, and her own were not theonly one_ now left.

" To be sure they arc ! We have the whole

IIUDGE-ROW AGAIN ! 5

thing to ourselves from this time. I think themimster will be for sending 5hehael and me tothe wars, to have us killed off; though I hope,in that case, you would live on and on, and ca.loyyour own for ma_y a year, to disappoint him._l;ut, to be sure," said tl_e old mm_, checking hisexuhation as he saw his daughter look grave,"liic is a very uncertain tiling, as we may see bywhat has just'happened."

" 1 am sure it is the last thing I thought of,"observed dane.

•' Av. It is a pretty yearly addition to usthree ;--two dropping together in tiffs way: and,as I said, I hope you will enjoy it for many ayearwi_en I am dead and gone; as 1 am sureyou deserve, for you. have been a good daughterto me,--keeping the house as well as your too-tiler (hd before you, and the books better than Icould mvseli_ leaving me flee to attend to theshop. 13ut, let us see. The room is half full orsmoke still; and you will say that comes ofmv poking tile fire. _Vhat have you got forHarry's tea ? The lad will want something solid,though he be a student. I remember his tellingme last time that no folks are more hungry thanthose that have been a long while over theirhooks."

Jane moved about like one in a dream, till, theshop-boy's heavy trea,t hawng been heard in thepassage, Morgan put her head in at the parlourdoor to say that Michael and a gentleman withhim might be seen from the shop-door to haveturaed t _e corner at t(_e other end of the Row.

j33

6 BUDGE-nOW &OAIN !

" 'Tis a pity Patience can't be here to.night,now really," said the old man : " but she alwaysmanages to be confined just when we have araerry-making. 'Tis as perverse as her husbandnot choosing to buy a tontine annuity when hehad the cash by him. tie will find now he hadbetter have done it. I wish I lind thought of itin time to have made it a condition of his marry-ing Patience.--Well, Harry, lad! I hope youare come home hearty. What! You are notashamed of your kin, though you have beenseeing lords at every turn?"

" How well Jane looks!" was Henry's firstremark, after all the greetings were over. " Sheis not like the same person that she was the lasttime I came home."

Henry was not the only one who saw a change'in Jane, this evening. Hereyes shone in the lightof the fire, and there was a timidity in her mannerwhich seemed scarcely to belong to the sober ageehe had attained. Instead of making tea in theshortest and quietest way, as usual, she was hesi-taring al_d absent, and glmlced towards Henry asoften as her father and Michael joked, or theopening of the door let in a whiff of the scent ofcheese and the et ceteras of a grocer's establish-ment.

Mr. Farrer remarked that tIenry would findLondon a somewhat buffer place just now thanhe had been accustomed to. London had beenall in a bustle since the King's speech, so thatthere was no such thing as getting shop-boysbgck when they had been cent of an errand.

BUDOg-nOWAGAIN! 7

What with the soldiers in the Parks, and file fussopoll the river when any news came, and theforces marching to embark, and the shows someof the emigrants made in the streets, there wasenough to entice idle boys from their duty.

" Not only from their duty of coming home,"_aid Michael. " There was our Sam to-day,--"tisa fact,--left the shop while I was halfa mileoff, and the Taylor_' maid came in for half apomld of currants, and would have gone awayagain if Morgan had not chanced to pass theinside door and look over the blind at the moment.'Tis a fact : and Sam had nothing to say but thathe heard firing, and the newsmen's horns blow.ing like mad, and he went to learn what it wasall about."

" I'll teach him! l'll make him rememberit!" cried Mr. Farter. " But we want anotherpair of eyes in the shop, _ure enough. 'Tis 1notoften that you and I want to be away at the sametime ; but "And thefatherand sontalkedovertheirshop

plans, and prepared vengeance for Sam, whileHenry told his sister what signs of public re-joicing he had seen thi_ day on his journey ;-flags on th¢ steeples, processions of little boys,and evergreen boughs on the stage coaches. Thewar seemed a very amusing thing to the nationat present.

"' Stocks are up to-day. The people are inhigh spirits."

" When people are bent on being in highap_rits, anything will do to make them _o. We

BUDGE-nOW AGhlN !

were in high spirits six years ago because a fewbad taxes were taken off:; and now we are merrierthan ever under tile necessity of laying oillnore?'

" Come, come, Hal," said his father, " don'tgrudge the people a taste of merriment while theycan get it. You will see tong laces enough whenthese new taxes come to be paid. I hope youare not so dead set against the mimster as youused to be when younger; or so given to fiudfault wittl all that is done."

" So far from being an enemy to the minister,father, I tl, ink it is very hard that the nation, orthe part of them that makes itself beard by theminister, should be so fond of war as to encouragehim to plunge us into it. Ti_ese very people _ullnot abuse hun the less, in the long run, tot gettingthe nation into debt."

" Well, well. We won't abuse the debt, andloans, and that sort of thing to-day,--eh, Jane 7'And Mr. Farrer chuckled, and Michael laughedloudly.

" For my part," continued the old man, " Ithink the debt is no bad thing for allowing whatsort of spirits the nation is in. You may dependupon it, Peek, and all other husbands who havewives apt to be high and low, would be very gladof such a thermometer to measure the ]adies'humour by. 'Tis just so, I take it, with Mr. Pittand the nation. If he wants to know his mis-

tress's humour, lie has only just to learn thestate of the stocks."

"Just the same case," said Michael, laughing.

BUDGE-ROW AGAIN ! 9

" Not quite," said Henry. " Peek would ratherdo without such a dlermometer, or barometer, if]_atience must ruin herself to-pay for it: muchmore, if die must leave it to her cl,ildren to payit after her. I should not have expected, father,to find you speaking up for war and the debt."

" Why, as for _*ar, it seems to make a pretty_ort of bustle that rather bnngs people to thest,up than keeps them away, and that _ill helpus to pay our share of tile new taxes, if we onlykeep to the _hop, instead of fanc)iug to be fincgentlemen. But I am of your mind about theminEter. If the people are eager for war,--andfull of hope--of---of ...."

"Ah! of _hat? What is tbe best that cancome of it ?"

" O, every true Englishman hopes to win, youknow. J3ut" if they will go headlong into war,tile)' have no right to blame the minister, as if itwas all his doing that they have to pay heavytaxes."

" Yet he ought to know better than to judgeof the people by a parliament that claps its handsthe more tile more burdens are laid on their chil-dren's children. He ought to question theirright to tax posterity in any such way. I cannotsee bow it is at all more just for us to make a warwhich our grandchildren must pay for, than forour allies to make a war which the EnglEh mustpay for."

" I am sure we are paying as fast as we can,"replied Mr. Farter. " It has l,ept me awakemore ni_hts tt,an one, I can tall you,--tho

l0 BUDGE-ROW AGAIN !

tldnkin_ what will come of these new taxes onmany things that we sell. As far tile debt, it

has got so high, it can get little hi,her ; that isone comfort. To think that in my father's youngdays, it was under seven hm'ldred thousandpounds ; and now, in my day, it is near tiireehundred millions r'

', What makes you so sure it _ill soon stop,father ?"

" Tllat it can't go on without ruining the na-tion, son. I suppose you don't think any minis-ter on earth would do that. No, no. Threehundred millions is debt enough, in all con-science, for any nation. No minister will ven-ture beyond that."

Not unless the people choose. And I, forone, will do all in my power to prevent its pro-ceeding further."

" And pray how ?"" That depends on what your plans are for me,

" True enough. Well, eat away now, andlet us see whether book-learning spoils butteredtoast. Come, tell us what you think of us, afterall the fine folks you have been amongst."

Jane was astonished that her father could

speak in this way to the gentleman in black, who,however simple in his manners, add accommo-datingin his conversation, was quite uuhke everyother person present in his quiet tom., aml gen-fie way of talking. She could not have askedhim wfmt he thought of tim place and the 1,arty.

Henry replied that he was, as he had said,

BUDaE-ROW AGAIN ! ]1

much struck by his sister's looking so well ; andas for Morgan_ she was not a day ohler since thetime when he used to run away'with her Welshbeaver -

" And make yourself look like a girl, with yourpuny pale f)tce,;' interrupted 3Iichael.

" Well, but, the plaee,_how does the oldhouse look ?" persisted Mr. Farrer. " You usedto be fond of prying through that green curtainto see the folks gomand out of the shop; andthen wm raised mustard and cress at the back

window ; and you used to whistle up and downstairs to your attic till your poor mother couldbear it no lon_-er. The old place looks just asitdid to you, I dare say ?"

Henry could say no more than that he remem-bered ali these things. By recalling many others,he hoped to divert the course of investigation ; buthis father insisted on his saying that the dingy, con-fined, shabby rooms looked to the grown wise manthe very same as to the thoughtless child who hadseen no other house. It was as impossible forHenry to say this as to believe still, as he oncedid, t'hat tns father was the wisest man in theworld ; and Mr. Farrer was disconcerted accord-ingly. IIe thought within himself that this wasa poor reward for all that he had spent on hisson Harry, and imshed away his cup with thespoon in it when it had been filled only fourtimes.

" Are you tired, Jane?" asked Henry, settingdown his tin candlestick with its tall thin candle,when his father had done bidding him be careful

1"2 BUDCE-ROW AO__ !

not to set the house on fire, and Michael wa_ goneto see that all was safe in the shop. Jane wasquite disposed for more conversation ; and wouldindeed have been darning stockings for at leastanother hour if Henr), had gone to sleep at ten,like his brother. She brought out her knitting,carefully piled the embers, e::tinguisbed onecandle, and was ready to bear Henry's qTlestionsand remarks, and to offer someofher o_n. Shecould not return the compliment she lind re-ceived as to her looks. She thought Ilarrywas tbin, and nearly as pale as ia the old days_vhen his nankeen frock and drab beaver matched

his complexion.Ileurv had been stud, lug hard; and tie ac-

knowle¢tged that his mind had been anxious oflate. It was so strange that nothing had beensaid to him respecting ills destination in life,that lie could not help speculating on the futuremore than was quite good for health and spirits.Could Jane give him any idea what his father'sintentions were ?

Henry now looked so boyish, with feet onfender, and fingers busy with an unemployedknitting-needle, that Jane's ancient familiaritybegan to return. She hoped there were nomatrimonial tboughts at the bottom of Henry'sanxiety about the future.

" Must no man be anxious about his duties

and his prospects till lie thinks of marr)'ing,Jane ? But why have you hopes and fears aboutit ?"

" Because I am sure my father will not hear

_DQ_-ROW At.Am ! 13

of such a thing as your marrying. You knowlmw steady he is when lie once makes up hisP.lind."

ttenry glanced up in his sister's flee, andaway again when he saw that she met his eye.She continued,

" I am not speaking of my m_n case in parti-cular ; but he has expressed iris will to Michael,_¢erv plainh, and told him what sort of connexionhe inust make if he marries at all. And Michaellms in consequence given up all talk of marriage_ ith a young woman he had promised himself to."

" Given up the connexion! A grown manlike Michael give up the woman he had en-gaged h_mself to, at another man's bidding!}low cau he sit laughing as he did to-night ?"

" I (lid not say he had given up the con-nexion," replied _lane, very quietly ; " but hehas given up all talk of marriage. So you see

" I see I shall have nothing to say to myfather on this part of the subject of settling inlife. But you, .lane,--what are you doing andthinking of'? My father knows that he is onsafer ground with you than he can be with hissons. How is it _:ith you, sister'?"

" What you say is very true. If he choosesto speak for his daughter, keeping her in thedark all the while, what can she do but makeherself content to be in the dark, and turn hermind upon something else? If mine is too full_f one object or another, I hol0e God _ill be

c

14 _unc, E.r,ow Aa>,_N!

merciful with me, since I have been under ano-ther's bid..ling all mv days."

" It i_' ltard--rerv hard-"" It is hard that oth_.rs,--that Mor__an, and T

dare say Mmi:ael, should know more ot what ha_been sat(t and uritten in my name tllan I (lo my-sel/: Yes,.Morgan. ]t isfrom her tl,_at I know

" About Peek .s That lm wanted you beforel:e thought of Patience ._"

'" Not only that. Patieuce is welcome to herlot,--though I do n,a see uimt need have pre-vented her taking my place at tim books, if mylather had not made uI, his mind to keep me byhim. But that is noticing in eomparism_ wMl--some other things that havebeen done in my name ;the treating a friend as if he were an impostor,anti i a royal, princess ; while, all tile time, l hadno such prvud thoughts myself, God knows."

"How came Morgan to tell you an)thingabout it !" erLed Henry, eager to _ind some oneon uh,.)m t() vent the indignation that lm was ml-willing to express in relatmn to his father.

" Morgan was made a friend of by that per=son ; and _he l_ the kindest friend I have, youmay beheve it, ilenrv.. She would have upheldme in an)thing l might have ehosen to do or tosay. But I was doubtful whether it was not toola{e tl:en ; and altogether I fancy it was best toge _.on as I (lid for a time. And now I am set-tled to my lot, you see, and grown into it. Iam fuliy satisfied now with my way of life; andit is not likely to change."

UUDGE-ROW__aAI,_! 15

" Do you mean that vou expec_ to keep thebooks, a_d be a thrifty housewife, as lon(__as youlive ? li it was necessary, well and good. Butmy father must be enornmuslv rich."

"Jane _lmok her head a_ she carefldlv mendedthe fire, and observed that the tnnes uere sueh asto alarm the wealthiest. Vfhile her brothermade inquiries about the business, and her shareof profit for her toils, site answered with herhabitual caution, and made no communicationabout the increased income which tim threemembers of the family would receive in conse-quence of the deaths o}' _ inch she bad this after-_oon heard."

" So you have no idea," said Henry, " howlong I am to remain here, and what i am to dollCXt._"

" Ah! indeed I am afraid you _ill hardlyknow what to do with your da:,s here, Henry.I have been thinking what ean be manaved asto that. You see we have no books but the oneshelf-full that you have read many times already.And we have no friends ; aml we dine so early ;and the house itselg I am afraid, is the kind ofthing you have been little used to. You mayspeak out to me more than you liked to do to myf,tther."

Henry was looking about him with a halfsmile, and owned that the slanting glass betweenthe windows did not appear qmte so grand amirror as when he looked up into it fearfully, inlfis child},ood, wondering by what magic thebtraight tloor could be ma,,le to took so like a

c2

]6 BUDGE-ROW AGAIN !

very steep carpeted hill. He then though_ thatno entertainment could be grander than the newYear's eve, uhen Mr. Jerry Hill and his brother{_sed to come to drink I_unch, and were Mudenough to take each a boy between his knees.But now, it seemed as if {here would be barelyroom h)r _'_D.Jcrrv tIill and his brother to turn

themselves round i'n this very same parlour.They would never spread'another new roar's

eve here! They were dead! tlow ._ _Vheu?Where ? The news o:llv arrived this day! and

his father and Michael so merry ! Henr i" couldnot understand this.

" But, Jane, do not trouble your head at_outwhat amusement I am to find at home. If itcomes to that, I can sit in my old place in thewindow-seat and read, let the carts elatter andthe sashes rattle as they may. What I want to

know is how I am to'empioymysel£ I shallnot live idly, as you may suppose. I will notaccept of food and clothes', to be led about for ashow as my father's learned son thatwas bred upat the university."

" Certainly not," said Jane, uneasily. " Per-haps in two or three days something may turuup to settle the matter. I dare say you had.rather g-o back to college than do anythin'g else .7,,

No. llenry now fell into praises of the lifeof a country clergyman, living in just such aparsonage as he saw at Allansford, when he wasstaying there with his friend, John Stephens.

" A're there any ladies at Mr. Stephens's _''.inquired Jane.

Bm'aS-ROW ha._L_ ! 17

" Mrs. Stephens and her daughter, and a friendof 3Ills Stephens's. Ah ! that is just tile kindof settlement that I should like ; and how easilymy father might, iI he would--But, as yousay, a few davs will show ; and I will have "pa-tience till then. I cannot conceive wimt made

him send for me, unless he has something inview. _

Jane knitted in silence." Will you go with me to-morrow morning,

Jane, to see poor Patience ._"Jane could not be spared ia the mornings ;

but she could step over before dark in the even-ing, and shoukl b: glad to introduce to Henrysome of his new nephews and nieces; therehaving been two brace of t_ins since Harry hadcrossed the threshold. Harry thought Peek wasa very dutiful king's man. He not only raisedtaxeswhere_ith to carry on the king's wars, butreared men to fight in {hem.

" Why, Morgan," said he, " I thought youhad gone to bed without bestowing a word onme. Cannot you sit down with us for five mi-nutes ?"

Morgan set down the little tray with hot waterand a bottle of home-made wine, which she had

brought unbidden anti half fearfully. She wasrelieved by seeing her mistress bring out thesugar and glasses cheerfully from the cupboard,and invite her brother to help himself, tte dtdso when lie had filled a glass for Morgan.

Wilen the candlewicks had grown long, andthe fire had fallen low, so prodigious a knocking

c3

]_ BUD GE-I:O_V AGAIN

was heard overhead as nearly prevented Morgaufrom carrying her last mouth_hl straight to itsdestination. Mr. Farter had heard their voiceson waking from his first sleep, aud had no ideaof thoughtless young people wasting his coals andcandles in such an idle way,--as if they couldnot talk by day-light [ The glasses were depo-sited so carefully as to make no jingle; thes]end_'r candle.s were once more lighted, andHonrv found time just to assure his sister, in awhisi(er , that he had not seen a truer lady thanMorgan since they had last parted. He pickedout one favourite volume from the single row ofbo.ks, to carry to his chamber; shook handswith his sister, and edged his way up the narrowstairs. As he found that the room seemed madeto filrbid all reading, unless it were in bed, heleft his book unopened till the morning. It wasthe first volume of poetry that he had everstudied; but as the window-curtain was puffedto and fro, and a cutting draught entered underthe door, and the whole room was divided be-tween the two, he put out his flaring candle, andlay thinking poetry instead of reading it, whilethe gleams on the ceiling, and the drowsy som_dsfrom below, called up visions of his childhood,which at last insensibly mingled with those ofsleep.

(19)

C It Ar.Tml II.

BEING ROMAN AT ROME.

MORe,ANneed not have exercised her old office

of calling IIcnry the next morning. Her knockwas heard at tile accustomed hour; but Henryhad been wakene_l long before by horns, bells,cries, and rmnblin_, which seemed to proceedfrom " above, about, and underneath," andwhich made him _mlder how, in his childhood,be could find it as diflleult to open his eyes whentold that the day was come, as to be persuadedto go to bed when he had laid hold of a new book.A certain chikhsh question of Henry's was heldin mirthful remembrance by his "family, andbrought up bv his father every time that heshowed his face at home,--" _.V]Jymust one gototted ? One no sooner goes to bed than onehas to get up again." Such a happy oblivion ofttle many intervening hours was no longer foundpracticable in the little apartment that shookwith every passing waggon; and how it couldever have been attained was at least as great amystery now as the perpetual motion.

"" Well, Harry," said his father, " what a pityyou should have troubled yourself to pull off vot, rclothes, as you had to put them on again directly !Hey'! But I thought you were of the same mindlast night, by the time you sat up. What keptyou up so late ?"

" We had a great deal to say, father, after

20 nv.1_GRO_IANAT RO_I_.

such a long absence. Jane had but little timefor writing l_.tters, )'on know, while I was away."

" [ think you might have your talk by davh,;htWhat are you going to do with yourself to-day ?"

There was no lack of something to do thisfirst day, First, there was seeing the shop,-being _'hown the new contrivance for obtaininghalf a foot more room behind the counter,and tlle better plan ibr securing the till, andthe evidence of Miclmel's pretty taste in theshape of a vellow lamb of spun butter, with twocurrants for eyes, and a fine curl,," flcccc, whichmight kee l) its beauty a whole fortnight longer,if this seasonable March weather should last.

Opj)osite to the lamb was a tower of Babel, ofcheese, which had been crmnbliug for some time.But, though the tower was infested with mice, itwas the general opinion that it would outlast thelamb. Then, while Jane settled herself, aproned,shawled, and mittened, at her desk, there was along story to be totd,--a story really interestingto Henry,---of the perplexities which had beenintroduced into the trade by the fluctuations ofthe duties on various articles. When tobaccowas sometimes to pay a tax of 350 per cent., andthen no more than 200, and then, on a sudden,1200, how should custom be regular, and thetrader know what to expect ? A man must beas wise as a Scripture prophet to know what stockto lay in when there was no depending on cus-tom. People would use twice as much tobaccoone year as another ; and a third more sugar;and a fourth more tea i or Would drop one article

a_NO a0_AN AT RO._XE. 21

after another in a way that no mortal could fore-tell.

Why not foretell ? Was it not certain thatwhen a tax on an article of c_,nsumption was in-creased, the consumption fell off in a definite pro-1)ortion ?

Quite certain; but then came in another _ortof disturbance. When duties rose very high,smuggling was the next thing; and there wasno calculating how smuggling might l_eep up thedemand.

" Nor what new taxes it may lead to," ob-served Ilenry. " If the consumption of taxedarticles falls off, the revenue suffers; and if, atthe same time, smuggling increases, new ex-penses are incurred tbr guarding the coast. Thepeople must pay both for the one and the other ;and so, the next thing is to lay on new taxes."

"' Ah !" groaned the old man. " They beginto talk of an income tax."

Whatever Henry's opinion of an income taxmight be, he was aware that few inflictions couldbe so dreadful to his father. Mr. Farrer, pos-sessed, it was supposed, of nearly half a million,managed to pay less in taxes than most of hisneighbours who happened to have eight hundreda )'car, and spent it. Mr. 'l_'arrer e_'chewed lux-uries, except a few of the most unexpensive ; hewas sparing of comforts, and got off paying moreto the state than any other man u ho must have

common tbod, clotifing, and house-room, titscontributions must be prodigiously increased it'he was to bc made to pay in proportion to his

_'_ Bb_ING ROMkN AT ROME.

income. It was a subject on which none of hisfamily dared to speak, even on this morrow of apiece of good fortune. Tile most moderate in-come tax would sweep away more than the addi-tion gained by the dropping of the two lives illthe joint annuity.

" They had ],etter mend their old ways thantry new," said Michael. " If they knew how,they might get more by every tax than it hasyielded yet. Peek says so. )[te says there isnot a taxed article eaten or drunk, or used, t!mtwould not yield more if the tax was lowered ; aud.Peek ought to know."

" And you ought to know, Mike, that you arethe last man that should wish for such a change,"said his father, with a sly wink. Michael'_ lau,..*hmade his brother uneasy; he scarcely k:_ewwhy.

" It is a great wrong, I think/' said Henry," to keep the poorer classes from the use of ctml-forts and luxuries that they might have, if thestate managed its plan of taxation better."

" Well, and so it is, Henry ; and 1 often sayso when I see a poor man come for his tobacco,and grumble at the price, and threaten it shall bethe last time; and a poor woman cheapen herounce of tea, and taste the butter and smell atthe cheese, and go away without buying any ofthem. As long as good management would serveto satisfy such poor creatures as these, withoutbringing an income tax upon their betters, it isa shame there is no such management."

" How much more would be consumed in )'oul_

_BIN(_ I_OMANAT RO_I_. _3

family, sir, if taxes on commodities were lowereda_ yen would have them ?"

" 0, as for us, we have every thing we want,as far as I know. There might be little or nodifference ill our own family; but I know therewould be among our customers. Shopkeepersv,-cuid.wonder where all the crowd of buyers camefrom."

" And the smugglers might turn tax. gatherers,lacy, father ._"

'" Al_,l there need be no more tall: of an in-rome tax," stud the old man; " let the Frenchblazen their matters out as they will."

Henry was not very sure of this, in his ownm:md. It seemed to him that the more supportthe state derived from taxes on commodities, thenqore clearly the people would see the injusticeo_ levying tile taxes upon those who were com-pelled to spend their whole income in the pur-chase of eommo&ties, while the rich, who choseto iive very frugally and hoard, might e_cape the])ayment of their due share. A customer nowcame in; apd then tile cheese-cellar had to bevisited; and then Mr. Farrer wanted Henry togo with him to two or three neighbours' houses,_ here there was a due admiration of the blessingsof a learned education on the one side, and onthe other a prodigious self-complacency aboutthe liberality, and the generosity, and the wis-_lom, and the glory of making one member of thefamily a great man, who should do honour to hiskith and kin.

The evening was spent at Mrs. Peek's.Mrs. Peek was able to receive her ti_mily at

_] BEING ROMAN AT IIDME,

home, though she had not yet left the ]lousesinceher confinement. She was proud of havinga brother who had been at college, though noone grumbled more at the expense than she didby her own fireside. She was unwilling to losetl_is opportunity of showing him off to someneighbours; and when the party from "BudgeRow entered Peek's house, at five o'clock, theyperceived several shawls and calashes on thewindow-seat in the l_assage which was called thehail. One of Mr. Farter's candles was flaringin this passage, and two in the waiting-room, asthe children's play-place was called, and six inthe parlour, it being Mrs. Peek's wish to haveevery thing smart for the recep-*ion of her gen-teel [_rother. The ample sofa anti two arm-chairswere ranged on one side, and four chairs on theother. When the door was thrown open, theparty in tim ante-room saw two young ladiestake flight from the sofa across the room; andby the time that all had entered the parlour, fivemaidens were wedged in a close rank, in front ofthe three chairs which were next Mrs. Peek's.

They _tood looking shy during the introduc-tion, and were made more awkward still by theold gentleman insisting, as he settled himself bythe fire, that one of those young ladies shoul_lcome and sit on the sofa beside him. None ofthem stirred.

" Miss Mills, suppose you take a seat on thesofa," observed Mrs. Peek.

" No, thank you, ma'am," said Miss Mills," Miss Anne Mills, won't _,ou take a _eat oa

the _ofa _"

BEING ROMAN'AT RO_,IE. 25

'_ No, ma'am, thank you."" Then, Miss Baker, or Miss Grace -. My

fourth girl, Grace, is called after that young lady,Henry ;--(Grace Baker is a great favourite ofours). Grace, my dear, you will sit on the sofa,I am sure. What! none of you!" (seeing thefive edge themselves down on the tllree chairs.)" Dear me! and there's so much room on theother side ! I believe I must go to tile sofa, andthen Henry will take my seat."

Miss Mills looked disposed to fly back againto file sofa when Henry took his seat beside her,as directed. She twisted the tips of her gloves,looked down, said " Yes, sir," and " No, sir,"to all he observed, and soon found she must goand ask Mrs. Peek after tlle dear little baby. Atthis unexpected movement, two out of the re-maining four halfstarted from their chair, butsettled themselves again with a muttered, "Now,how !" and then the next began to twist hergloves and took down, leaving, however, full athird of a chair between herself and tile scholar.

Nothing could be done till Mr. Peek came in,further than to tell Henry which of the youngladies could play and whic]l could draw. Henrycould only hope to hear them play, and to seetheir drawings ; upon which Mrs. t'eek was sorrythat her piano was put away in a room up stairstill her girls should be qualit]ed to use it ; but sherang for a servant, who was desired to tell masterHarry to step across for Miss Mills' sketch-book,and Master Michael to run to Mr. Baker's for

Miss Grace Baker's portfoho.D

_6 nEING ROMANAT ROME.

" The blue portfolio, ma'am," Miss Bakerleaned forward to say on her sister's behalfi

" 0 [ the blue port_io, tell Master Michael."Mr. Peek came in, at length, rubbing his

hands, and apologizing for having kept the ladieswaiting for their tea ; but it was the privilege ofsuch a business as his to take, in some measure,his own times and seasons for doing things ; andthis afternoon he had been paying one of hisofficial visits where he was least expected.

When Jane had stationed herself at the tea-table, with a Miss Mills to aid her, and Peek hadordered one little table to be brought for himselfand another for his father-in-law, he addressedhis conversation chiefly to the latter, observingthat the young scholar's part was to entertain theyoung ladies.

" You know the Browns,--the way they be-haved to my wife and me about our nursemaidthat they tempted away?" said Peek to Mr.Farter.

" 0 yes ; I hope you have served them out."" That I have, pretty well ! They should have

taken care what they were about in offendingme. I can always make out what are their busydays, and then l" pop in, and there is no end ofthe stock-taking I make them go through. Whatwith measuring the canisters, and weighing, andpeeping, and prying, I keep them at it a prettytime ; and that is what I have been about thisafternoon."

" Can't you catch them with a pound of smug-gled stuff t"

BimINO ROMAN AT ROME. 27

"Not an ounce. They know [ would if Icould ; and that makes them take care and looksharp. What did you think of the last rummerof toddy you got here ?"

"Capital! Had Brown anything to do withthat ?"

"Not he; but you shall have another to-night, since you liked tile last so much; andMr. Henry too, if he likes. But I suppose hewill be too busy playing commerce with theladies ? That fine spirit was one of the goodthings that one gets by being gentle in one'svocation, as I tell Patience when she is cross;and then I hold back some nice present that Iwas thinking of giving her."

"Aye, aye. A little convenient blindness, Isuppose, you find your account in sometimes ;and who finds it out, among all the multitude ofarticles that pay taxes ? Yes, yes, that is one ofthe under.,.tood things in the business; as ourmen of your tribe give us to understand."

" I hope you find ttiem accommodating, sir ?""Yes; now we know how to manage them.

And they are wonderfully kind to Mike, consider-ing all t]lings."

Mike assented, with one of his loud laughs.Henry was listening to all this not the less for

his civility in handing tea, and amusing his nextneighbour. By taking in all that passed nowand when he was seated at cards, after Mrs. Peekhad made her excuses and withdrawn, he learnedmore than he had known before of the facilities

afforded to file collector of taxes on commodities,v2

_8 BEINa RO_rA_ AT aosim

of oppressing the humble, and teasing the proud,and sheltering the shabby, and aiding the frau-dulent. He felt that he would rather be astreet-sweep than suoh an exciseman as Peek.At best, the office was a most hateful one.

He grew Jess and tess able to give goodcounsel at cards, aud to admire figqres andlandscapes, the louder grew Michael's mirth,aud the more humorous Peek's stories of howlie treated his victims, the small tradesmen. Hewould not touch the spirit and water so stronglyrecommended, but bore rallying on preferringthe more lady-like refreshment of negus andsweet cake. He roused himself to do what was

proper in shawling Miss Grace Baker; but itwas feared by his family that the young ladieswould not be able to give so enthusiastic anaccount of him at home as might have been, ifhe had done himself justice. It was a greatpity !

" What a clever fellow Peek is ; be is madefor his business! Eh, Harry?" observed Mr.Farrer, as they turned homewards, after havingdeposited the Misses Mills.

" He is made for his business as you say,father. What a cold night it is !"

"Well; I hoped you caught a bit of whatPeek was saying ; I thought it would entertainyou. We'll have him some evening soon; andthen I'll make him tell some stories as good asany you heard to-night, only not so new. Doyou hear, Jenny; mind you fix Peek andPatience for the first afternoon they can name

BEING RO_IANAT ROME, _

next week, and we wilt have them all to ourselves.Come, Mike, ring again. It is gone ten. I warrantMorgan and Sam are nodding at one anotheron each side the fire. Give it them well."

Day afmr day was filled up in somewhat a simi-lar manner, not'bing being said of the purpose forwhich Henry was brought home, or of his tuturedestination. He soon became more reconciled

than at first to his strange position, not onlyfrom becoming familiarized wah it, but becauseLondon was astir with rumours of strange eventsabroad, and with speculations on what curiouschapters in the history of nations were about tobe presented tbr men's reading. Mr. Farrermade no objection to his son's disappearanceduring the greater part of the day, as he wassure of bringing home all tile news at the endof it. Sometimes he fell in with a processiongoing to plant the tree of liberty on KenningtonCommon; sometimes he had interesting talesto tell of the misfortunes of the emigrants, whomhis father ceased for the time to compare tolocusts devouring the fruits of the land, or to thewasps that swarmed among his sugars insummer. Henry could bring ttle latest tidingsof the progress of rile riots in tile country onaccount of the high price of tbod, and of certaintrials for sedition in which his heart seemed to be

deeply engaged, though he let his father rail onat the traitors who encouraged the people tothink that governments could do wrong. Henrytaw all the reviews, and heard of all the embark-

D3

30 BEING ROMAN AT ROME.

ations of soldiers, and could tell how many newclerks were taken on at the Bank, and what ademand there was for servants at the governmentoffices, and what spirits every body was in atPortsmouth and Birmingham, while no oneknew what was to be done with the poorwretcl,es who tried an ineffectual riot in themanufacturing districts from time to time. Allthis passed with Mr. Farrer for a very naturallove of news, and was approved in as far as itenabled him to say to his superior customers,"My son who was at the University hears this,"or says that, or knows the other. But Janesaw tl_at Henry the student was not interested inthese vast movements of humanity as a mereamusement to pass the time. Not in pursuit ofmere amusement was he often without food frombreakfast-time till he returned by lamp-light.:Not in pursuit of mere amusement was he some-times content to be wet through twice in a day ;sometimes feverish with excitement, and some-times so silent that she left him unquestioned tothe deep emotions that were stirring within. Sheoccasionally-wondered whether tie had anythoughts of entering the army. If he was reallyanxious to be doing something, this seemed aready means ; yet she had some suspicion that hispatriotism was not of a kind to show itself inthat way ; and that if he fought at all, it wouldnot be to avenge the late French King. How-ever it might be, Jane-felt her affection for thisbrother grow with her awe of hi.* mysteriou_

BEING ROMANAT RO_IE. 31

powers and tastes. She listened for his stepwhen he was absent; intimated her dissent fromany passing censure upon him uttered by hisfather; saw that dry shoes were always readyfor him when he came in ; received gratefully allthat he had to tell her, and asked no questions.She struggled witil all the might that was toprove at last too feeble a barrier to a devastatingpassion, against the daily thoughts of food eatenand clothes worn by one who was earningnothing; satisfied herself that though Henrywas no longer enjoying the advantages ofcollege, he was living more cheaply than hecould do there; and trusted, on the whole, thatthis way of life might continue some time.

One morning, Michael's cup of tea havingstood till it was cold, the discovery was madethat Michael was not at home. Mr. Farter

dropped, with _pparent carelessness, the newsthat he would not return for two or three days ;and _hen Jane had helped herself to the coldtea, in order that it might not be wasted, nobodyseemed to think more of the matter.

Half an hour after breakfast, before Henryhad closed a certain pocket volume in Greekwhich he had been observed to read in at all oddtimes, Mr. Farter put his head in at the parlour-dour, with

"I say, Harry, we are very busy in the shopto-day, and Mike away."

"Indeed, sir ! Shall I go out and find some-body to help you ?"

"Very pretty! And you _itting here with

32 _E_NG I_O_tANAT RO_E.

nothing" to do ! Come yourself; I will help youto find Mike's apron."

tlenry first laughed, and then, after an instant'shesitation, pocketed his book, and followed hisfather. _Vhile he was somewhat awkwardlytying on hLs apron, his sister saw him throughtt_e tiny window which gave her, in her retire-ment a view of the shop ; and she called out toknow what he was doing.

" I am going to try to cut bacon and weighbutter as _ell as Michael."

" Is it your own fancy ?"

"Myfather put it into my head; but it ismy own will to do it tilt Michael comes back."

"Tl_ere was no more to be said; but Janereddened all over; and wl_en she saw tile tirstcustomer come in, and Mr. Farrer stand overHenry to see him guess at the weight of soaprequired, Jane lost all power of casting up thecolumn of figures over which her pen was sus-pended.

It was told in many a neighbour's house thatday that there was a new shopman at Farrer's,who was dead-slow at tying up parcels, andhacked sadly at the cheese, as if he did notknow an ounce from a pound at sight. Henrywas not aware how far he was from being worthyto rival Michael. It requires some practice toachieve the peculiar twirl and jerk with whichan adroit shopman ties up and delivers a parcel_o a fair dealer ; and Henry knew nothing yetof the art of joking with the maidens andcoaxing the ma_rons among his ¢ustomexs.

_INa RO_AN AT nor_. . 33

When weary, sick, and inwardly troubled to adegree for which he could scarcely account, hecame in from seeing that the shutters wereproperly closed, anti from puri_ing himself fromthe defilements of the counter, his father hailed]aim with,

" 1Vell done, Harry! You will do very wellsoon, and make up for the cheese you havecrumbled to-day. You will manage not to spillso mueh sugar to-morrow, perhaps. And bythe end of the year, we shall see what sort of ayounger partner's share we can afford you."

"You do not mean that I am to spend awhole year as I have spent to-day, father '?"

"Indeed but I do, though ; and as many moreyears as you have to live. My father made hisJbrtune in this same business, and I mean mysons to do the same."

Henry answered by handing his father thecandle to light his pipe.

" I say, Harry," the oht man resumed, after along silence, " you go into the shop to-morrowmorning."

"Certainly; till Michael comes back; if, asyou said this morning, he returns before the endof the week."

"And after he comes back. He will put youin the way better than I can, you'll find."

"After he comes back, I l_ope to find meansof using the education you have given me, father.It would be all lost if I were to be a grocer."

Mr. Farrer could see nothing but loss in

following any other occupation, and iI_gratitude

_ , BEING RgMAN AT ROMI_.

in hesitating to accept a provision which wouldenable Henry to become, like his brother andsisters, a public creditor on very advantageousterms. _te let his son more into the secret ofhis _eatth than he had ever done before ; andwhen he found this confidence of no avail to his

purpose, was vexed at his communicativeness,grew very angry, threw down his pipe, andordered the family to bed.

Tile next day, and tim next, all went on sosmoothly in the shop that each party hoped tileother had relented. On the Friday evemng,hiichael returned, in high spirits, his talk savour-ing of tile sea as his clothes did of tobacco. OnSaturday morning, Henry was missing in histurn. _Iorgan appeared with red eyes to saythat tie had gone out with his blue bag veryearly, and had left the letter she now deliveredto her master.

This letter was read, crmnpled up and thrownunder the grate in silence, dane afterwardstook possession of it; and found that Henryvalued his education too highly not to make timbest use he could or' it ; that tie was quite of titsfather's opinion that it was a sin to remain athome in idleness; that he would thereforeendeavour to obtain immediate employment andindependence; that tie would come and see hisfather as soon as tie had anything to com-municate, and should be always on the watch torepay by any duty and attention in his powerthe obligation he was under for the advantageshe had enjoyed.

BEING ROMAN AT ROME. _

Morgan had no intelligence to give of whereHenry was gone. He had left his love for hissister, and an assurance that he would see hersoon and often. Morgan trusted she mighttake his word for his not feeling himself" putupon" or ill-regarded in the family. He hadassured her that his feelings for tt'lem were askind as ever, as he hoped to show, if occasionshould arise. Might she Lelieve this ?

Jane trusted that she might ;--would not lethis chamber be disarranged just at present ; andwent to her place of business to start at everyblack coat that passed the window.

CHAPTER IIL

DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS.

MR. Farrer seemed to be somewhat surprisedto see that Henry's coat was still black and stillglossy when he called, as he promised, to see hisfamily. A vague image of a tattered shirt, awallet and mouldy crusts, had floated before theold man's mind as often as he prophesied thatHarry would come begging to his father's door ;whereas Henry seemed to have nothing tocomplain of, did not ask for anythin_ to eat,never mentioned money, and looked verycheerful. It was impossible to pronounce himpaler than usual ; and, what was more surprising,he made no mysteries, but told all that he wasasked to tell, Nobody inquired whether he

_6 DEATH-UHAMBEa SOOTHINGS,

was married, and none but Jane desired to knowwhere he lived. But the circumstance of hishaving obtained employment that would sufficefor the present was related ; and he endeavouredto explain to his father the nature of the literaryoccupations in which he was engaged ; but whenhe had once acknowledged that they did notbring him in so muctl per week as his brother'slabours afforded, Mr. Farter did not desire tohear anything more.

" Jaue, you will come and see meT' saidHenry, wheu they were alone.

" My father says you had better come here"" Well, so I shall ; but you will look in upon

me some day ? I have so_nething to show you."" Perhaps you can bring it here. My father "" Oh, he forbids your visiting me. Yes, I shall

certainly come here, and soon. Do you know,Jane, I think my father looks ill."

" He is harassed about business just now ;-not about the part you have taken ; for he saidyesterday that people are better out of businessin such times."

" What is the matter ? Does his custom falloff?"

" Very much; and his profits are less andless. Everything is so taxed,--everything thatfile common people must have,--(and they arethe customers that _ignify most, from their num-ber)_that they go without tea and sugar, andsave iu soap and candles more than you wouldsuppose; and besides, all this dearness makes_ges rise every where ; and we feel that directly

DEATH-CHAi_IBER 8OOTHINGS. 37

ii'_ the fall of our profits. If things get muchworse, we shall soon be laying by nothing. Itwill be as much as we can do to make the year'sgains answer the year's expenses."

"That will be a very bad tiling if it comes tobe the case of the whole nation, Jane: but I donot think that my father and you need mind it,-so much as you have both accumulated. It is abad state of things, however. Have you seenDr. Sav about my father ?"

"W}_y> no. I think thatbe would be alarmedat lny mentioning such a thing; and as I knowhis ailments to be from an uneasy mindHowever, I will watch him, and if lie does notget better , But lie looks particularly ill to-day."

" He does indeed."

Morgan was waiting near the door whenHenry went out.

" I take shame, Mr. Henry, my dear," saidshe, "that I did not half believe you in what .yousaid, the morning you wen_ away, about comingagain, and going to be happy."

" Well, Morgan, you believe me now 7""Yes, my dear, I do; and 1 fee/, by your

looks, that there is some great reason behind.Do you know, I should say, if iL was not astrange thing to say, Mr. Henry,--I should say}'ou were married."

"That is a strange guess, Morgan. Supposeyou come, some day, and see; and, if youbring Jane with you, so nmch the better.", "Ah! my dear, it would be a wholesome

E

3_ DEATH-C I[AMBER SOOTHINGS.

chan_e_ for her, so much as she goes throughwith mv master. You may believe me I hearher hal'f the night, stealing about to watch hissleep, when by chance he gets any quiet sleep ;and at other times comforting him."

" Do you mean that he suffers much ?"" Ill mind, Mr, Henry. What can they expect

_hom God permits to be deluded about whatthey should seek ? Be sure you take care, Sir,to provide for your own househoht; but 1 hopenever to hear you tossing in your bed becanse ofthe doubt whetimr you will have three hums oronly twice as much "gold as you can use."

" Treat him tenderly, Morgan ; and send forme whenever you think I can be of any use."

"My dear, there is not a sick child crying forits broken toy that I would treat so tenderly asyour fath_r,--even if I had not Miss Jane beforeme for a pattern. I will send for you, I promiseyou ; but it is little that any of us can do whenit comes to be a matter of serious illness. Webrought neither gold nor friends into this world,and 'tis certain we cannot carry them out ; butwhat you can do for your father, you sl,all becalled to do, Sir. Ho_,ever, as Michael says, ifthere comes a flow of custom to make his mindeasy, he may be as well as ever."

No such flow of custom came, and variouscircumstar_ces concurred to lower Mr. Farrer's

spirits, and therefore aggravate his disease.Within the next eight months, nearly a thousandbankruptcies bore testimony to the grievousnature of the burdens under which trade was

DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS. 3Q

suffering. Rumours of the approaching down-fall of church and state _cre circulated with

sufificient emphasis to shake the nerves of asick man who had very little notion of a depend-enee on anything but church and state. Besidesthis, he did not see that it was now possible forhim to be well against New Year's Eve,wthefestival occasion of those whose lives had afforded

a subject of mutual money-speculation ; and if -he could not be well on this anniversary, he wasconvinced he should be dead. Every time thatHenry went, he thought worse of his father'scase, however flattering might be the physician'sreports and assurances. There was no thoughtof removing him ; for the first attempt wouldhave been the death of him. Where he wasborn and bred, there he must die; and the bestkindness was to wrap him in his great-coat, andlet him sit behind the counter, ordering, andchatting, and weighing pennyworths, and findingfault with every body, from Mr. Pitt down toSam the shop-boy.

The last morning of the year broke brightand cheery. When Morgan issued from theshop, dressed in her red cloak and round beaverover a mob-eap,--the Welsh costume wbieh shecontinued to wear,--the cotter sun showedhimself behind the opposite chimney, and.glistened on the candies in the window and theicicles which hung from the outside cornice.Many a cheery sound was in the frosty air,--the laughtex of children sliding in the Row, thenew_maa's call, the clatter of horses' feet over

_2

40 DEATII-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS.

the slippery pavement, and the jangle of cans atthe stall where hot coffee was sold at the street-corner. All this was strange to the eyes andears of _,Iorgan, not only from her being unac-customed to walk abroad, but from its contrastwith the scene she had just left.

When she had quitted Mr. Parrer's sickchamber, the red daylight had begun to glimmerthrough the green stuff window curtain, giving asignal to have done with the yellow candlelight,and to speak some words of clleer to the patienton the coming of a new day. Mr. Farrer hadlooked dreadfully ill in the flickering gleam ofthe fire, as he sat in tile arm-chair from which hisoppressed breathing forbade him to move;but in the daylight he looked absolutely ghastly,and Morgan felt that no time was to be lost insummoning Henry, under pretence of purchasinga gallon of wine.

Her master had called her back to forbid her

buying wine while there was so much in the house ;but she was gone beyond the reach of his feeblevoice, and the other persons who were in theroom were for the wine being bought. Dr. Say,an apothecary who passed very well for a phy-sician in this neighbourhood, declared that home-made raisin wine was by no means likely to agreewith the patient, or support his strength ; andPeek, the son-in-law, reminded the old gentlemanthat the cost of the wine would come out of hisestate, as it was little likely that he would live topay the bill.

" You yourself said," uttered the old man in

DEAr_-CtIAMD_a SOOraINGS. 41

the intervals of his pantings, " you said, only lastweek, that few drink foreign wills that spend lessthan their six hundred a-year. ] don't spend sixhundred a-year; and Jane's raisin wine mightserve my turn."

" That was in talking about the taxes,--thetax that doubles the cost of wine. I don't seewhy people of three hundred a-year should notdrink as much as those that spend six, if the costof wine was but half what it is ; especially if theybe sick and dying.--And a fine thing it would befor the wine trade, seeing that there are manymore people who spend three hundred a-year thansix. So both the makers and the drinkers havereason to be vexed that for every gallon of winethat ought to cost five shillings, they have to payten."

" Now, Mr. Peek, do not make my father dis-contented with his wine before he tastes it," saidJane, observing the shade that came over the oldman's face at the mention of the price.

" O, that need not be. He must have hadwine for to-night, you know, if he had been well,and brandy into the bargain, if Jerry Hill andhis brother had been alive.--But, sir, if you findfault with the wine-duty, what would you haveThere is no help for it but an income tax, and.you don't like that, you tell me._Dear me, Dr.Say, look how white he turns, and how his teethchatter. He is failing very fast, poor soul !"

" Confound the income tax ! The very talkof it has been the death of me," Mr. Farter had_till strength to _ay.

42 DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS,

" Mr. Peek, I wish you would leave off talkingabout such things," said Jane. " Do not yousee that my father cannot bear it ?"

" Why, dear me, Jane, don't you know thatthere is nothinghe is so fbnd of talking about asthat that he and I know most about ? Why, heis never tired of asking me about what I meetwith in the way of my business !"

" Well ! tell him stories to amuse him, if youlike ; but don't threaten him with the income taxany more. '_

" With all my heart. He shall carry none butpleasant ideas to his grave for me.--I say, sir,I should think you must sell a good manymore candles since the duty came off, don't you ?--Ah! I find the difference in some of the

poorer houses I go into. A halfpenny a poundon tallow candles was a tax-"That prevented many a patient of mine from

being properly nursed," said Dr. Say. " Whenpeople are just so poor as not to afford muchcandlelight, such a tax as that dooms many sickto toss about in the dark, frightened at their ownfancies, when a light, to show things as they are,would have composed them to sleep. That was abad tax : the rich using few tallow candles."

" If that be bad, the others were worse ;--thaton cottages with less than seven windows ! Lord !I shall never forget what work I used to haveand to hear of about that tax. He must have

been a perverse genius that thought of that tax,and deserved to be put into a cottage of two win-dows himself.--Do you hear, Mr. Farrer, that is

DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS. 43

over and gone ; and I suppose you used to paya tax upon Morgan that you are not asked fornow .9-

Mr. Farter now proved himself still able tolaugh, while he told how he never paid a farthingtbr Morgan before the tax on female servantshad been repealed. Morgan believed herself tobe tile fiftieth cousin of the family ; and on thedays when the tax-gatherer was expected, Farreralways contrived that Morgan should be seatedat some employment found for her in the parlour,and called a relation of tile family. Jane nowunderstood for the first time why her father wasupon occasion so strangely peremptory about thesofa cover being patched, or his shirts mended, bynoone but Morgan, and nowhere but inthe parlour.The repeal of these three assessed taxes, and of afourth,--on carts and waggons,--was acknow-ledged to be an improvement on oldmanagement,however grievous might be the actual burdens,and the great one now in prospect.

In pursuance of his plan to give Mr. Farternone but pleasant ideas to carry to the grave,Peek proceeded to observe on the capability ofthe country to bear much heavier burdens thanformerly. Arkwright alone had provided themeans of paying a large amount of taxes, by en-dowing the country with the vast resources of thecotton manufacture.

" And what came of it all?" muttered Mr.Farrer. " There is Arkwright in his grave, justlike any other man."

44 I_EATH-CtIAMBEaSOOTHINaS.

" That's very true ; and just as if he had hadno more than his three hundred a-year all hisdays. But it was a noble thing that he did,--the enabling the country to bear up ia such timesas we live in. For my part, I think the ministermay very fairly ask for more money when sucha piece of good luck has befallen us as our cottonmanufacture turns out to be. I'm not so much

against the war, since there is this way of payingfor it."

" You forget we are in debt, Peek. ' Dutyfirst, and pleasure afterwards,'I say. 'Charitybegins at home,' say I. Pay the debt first, andthen go to war, if you must."

Some other improvements will turn up, timeenough to pay the debt, I dare say. When thewar is done, tile minister has only to find some-body, like Arkwright, that will make a grandinvention, and then he can pay off the debt athis leisure."

" No, never," cried Fairer, in a stronger voicethan Jane thought he could now exert. " Youwill see Arkwright in the next world before yousee his like in this. I knew Arkwright. Andas for the debt,--how is that ever to be paid ?The country is ruined, and God knows what willbecome of nay little savings !"

And the old man wept as if he had alreadylost his all. It was always a melancholy fact tohim that Arkwright, whom he had been wont toconsider the happiest of men, had been obliged togo away from his wealth ;_todie like other men.

DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINOS. 45

Peek attempted to comfort him, regardless ofthe frowning looks of Dr. Say, and of Jane'shints to hold his tongue.

" Why, all that requires to be taken care ofwill go to Jane, I suppose, though some of yourthings would be more suitable to my wife thanto any single woman. That is a nice mattress ;alld indeed the bedding altogether is just _hatwould suit our brown chamber, as I was sayingto my wife. But I suppose Jane is to have allthat sort of thing 7-

" Mr. Peek, you will either go away or leaveoff talking in that manner," said Jane, movinga_vay the empty tankard from which he had drunkhis morning ale.

" Mr. Farrer will enjoy many a good night inthat very bed, when we have subdued the littleobstruction that affects the breathing," observedDr. Say, soothingly.

" We all know better than that," said Peek,with an ostentatious sigh. " It is hard to leavewhat it costs such a world of pains to get. I'veheard you say, Mr. Farter, holy proud youwere when you got a watch, as a young man.That's it, I suppose, over the chimney-piece ; anda deal of silver there must be in it, from the

weight. I suppose this falls to Jane too ? It willgo on, tick, tick, just tile same as ever."

Mr. Farrer forgot his pain while he watchedPeek's method of handling the old watch, andfollowed his speculations about the disposal ofhis property.

" And do you think that sin_ng-bird will miss

46 DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS,

you ?" asked Peek, nodding to the siskin in itscage. " I have heard of birds that have pined,as they say dogs do, from tile day of"their master'sdeath. 13u_nay children would soon teach yourTeddy a merry ditty, and cure him of moping."

" Jane, don't let ally body but Morgan movethat bird out of the house : do you hear?" said_rrel'.

" It is nobody's bird but your's, father. No-body shall touch it." And Jane set Teddy sing-ing, iu hopes of stopping Peek's speculations.

" And there's the old punch-bowl," continuedthe son-in-law, as soon as there was again si-lence. " That will be yours o['course, Jane?"

"' 0, our good friend will make punch many atime yet out of that bowl, when we shall have setup his appetite," declared Dr. Say.

" ?_'o,no, Doctor. l_Iewill never make punchagain in this world."

TiJere was a pause after this positive declara-tion, which was broken by Farrer saying to hisdaughter,

" You don't say anything against it. Youdon't think you had rather not have the things."

Jane replied in a manner which showed greatconflict and agony of mind. She should feel likea child, if her father must leave her. She hadnever lived without him. She did not know thatshe could conduct herself and her affairs withouthim. She was in a terror when she thought ofit, and her mind was full of reproach

" Ah ! you'ti be marryit_g, next thing, and allmy things will be going nobody Knows where.

D_ATHoCHAMBER SOOTHINGS. 47

But as for reproaching yourself,--no need ofthat, so far, for you have been a good daughterto me. ')

Jane declared that she had no thoughts ofmarrying.

" Come, Doctor, which way are you going ?_Vill you walk with me ?" said Peek: whose ap-prehensions about the final destination of theproperty were roused by the sentimental regardswhich Dr. Say began to cast upon Jane, whenthe conversation took this turn. Dr. Say was inno hurry ; could not think of leaving Iris patient ;would stay to see the effect of the wine,--and soforth. Tim ohl man stretched his feeble hand

towards the doctor's skirt, amt begged him toremain.--One reason of his wish was that he feltas if lie should not die whilst his doctor was byhis side ; and another was that he wished for thepresence of a stranger while Henry was withhim, and Henry was now coming up'stairs.

" They say I am going, Harry ; and nowperhaps you will be sorry that you did not doall that I bade you."

" I always have been sorry, father, that I couldnot. )'

" I should like to know, Doctor, how oneshould manage one's sons now-a-days. Here'sHarry won't follow my business for all I can say ;and Mike is leaving the shop to take care ofitself, while I am laid fast in this way. He wasto have been back three days ago ; and not a wordhave we beard of him, and don't know where tosend to him. One must look to one's daughters,

4_ DEkTH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS.

after all--though my father never had to say thatof me. I was ill the very middle of countingour stock of short moulds when I was called upstairs to see him die.--Well, Henry ; I have leftyou nothing, I give you notice."

" Indeed, father, I am able to earn what Iwant; and I |lave to thank you for this. Youhave given me already more than the wealth oftlle world ; and I shal] never forget it."

" I don't very well know what you mean ; but

I can fancy about the not forgetting. I saw amoon over the church thereThe old man was evidently wandering after

some idea of what he had observed on tile nightafter his father's death, and many nights since ;and with this he mixed up some strange anxietiesabout the neglect of the shop this day. Withina few minutes, Peek was gone to be a Job's com-torter to his dawdling wife, assuring her that shecould not, by any exertion, arrive ill Budge Rowin time to see her father alive ; Jane was tryingto pacify the old man by attending behind thecounter ; while Dr. Say and Henry remained withthe patient. Henry did not choose to be alonewith him, lest any fit of generosity should seizehis father, and cause dissension among the moredutiful of the children.

A few more hours were spent in the restless,fruitless, disheartening cares which form tilegreatest part of the humiliation of the sick-room :the shutting out the light that is irksome, andthen restoring it because the darkness is oppres-sive; the preparing food which is not to b_

DEATn-CHA_Ea SOOT[tINSS. 49

tasted, and offering drink which cannot be swal-lowed; the changing the posture perpetually,because each is more uneasy than the last. Afew hours of this, and of mutterings about JerryHill and his brother, which indicated that someidea of tlle day and its circumstances was pre-sent to the dymg man,--a few hours of extraor-dinary self-restraint to Jane, and anxiety toMorgan, and all was over.

Patience came five minutes too late. Shefound the shop-boy standing with eyes and mouthwide, instead of attending to a customer. I-lecould only relate that Morgan had just shownherself at the inside door, looking very grave,and that Miss Farrer had turned very white, andgone up stairs; so that he was sure his masterwas dead. The customer was officious in helpingto half-close the shutters, and so obliging as togo elsewhere for what he wanted, spreading ashe went the news of the death of the rich old

fellow, Farter the grocer.Where was Michael ? This was a question

asked many times before night-fall by one orother of the household. None could answer it;not even she who knew most about Michael's

proceedings, and to whom Morgan condescendedto go in person in searcll of information. Theyoung woman was as much at a loss as anybody, and so .extremely uneasy tl,at Morganfound in her heart to pity her.

Where was Michael ? This was the questionthat returned upon Jane's mind al_d heart in thedead stillness of the night, when, by her own

F

50 DRkTH-CItAMBERBOOTHINflS°

desire, she was sitting up alone beside her father'scorpse. She wouht not hear of Henry's btayinff,and forbade Morgan's remaining beyond theusual early hours of the house.

She turned the watch with its face to the wall,when she had wound it up ; ,for she did not wishto know when midnight aud the new year came.It was a gusty ni,,ht,_ and she hoped not to hearthe church-eloct; s_rlke. She heard instead thevoices of the party assembled in the house thatday twelvemonth,_the httle party of friendswhose hopes of wealth depended individually onthe chance of _urviving the rest. , 3,Vhat wouldshe not now give to be set back to that time!The interve_fing year had disclosed to her some-thing that she did l_ot fully know before,--thatshe was being devoured by the growing passionof avarice. She had felt joy at the death ofJerry Hill's brother, tt_o_tgh the time had beenwhen the bare idea of his death weighed uponher heart for days ! She had been unable to tellher father that _'he did not wish for what he hadto leave. And now,--what did she desire tohear about Michael? If he had formed bad

connexions,--if he was playing a desperate gamewith smuggters,--if he should now marry themother of his ehitdre-n, and thus distribute bywholesale the wealth his father had saved, andsquander the large annuity which had fallen tohim as to her, fi'om their being the sole survivorsof the lot of lives,--wbat, in such a risk, wouhlbe the best news she could hear of Michaet?She started from her seat in horror as soon an

DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS, _I

she became conscious that she had entertainedthe question. S[,e uncovered the face of thecorpse. She had never before seen those restlessfeatures immoveable,--not even in sleep. Theeves had never before refused to look lqmn her,tile lips to answer ta her. If he no longer caredfor her, who shouhl care ? The fee]ing of deso-lation came over her strongly; and when herheart bounded for an instant at the thought ofher wealth, and then sank, as a vivid picture camebefore her of _l;chael struggling and sinking inthis night's stormy sea, she was completely over-powered. The light swam before her eyes, thecorpse seemed to rise up in the bed; the gustthat swept along the narrow street, and the clat-ter of hall against the window at the instant, ter-rified her unaccountably. Something grasped hertight round the throat; something pulled herclothes behind ; something looked down from thetop of the bed. Shrieks woke Morgan from thesleep which had just overtaken her, and broughther down in the dark, stumbling against the shiver-ing shop-boy, who had come out upon the stairsbecause he dared not stay in his own room.

At the sight of Morgan, standing half dressedat the door, .lane became instantly quiet. Shesank into a chair, whde Morgan walked straightto the bed ; her first idea being that the old manwas not dead, and that some movement of his hadterrified her mistress. When she saw that allwas still, she turned to Jane with an anxious lookof inquiry.

5_ DEATH-CHAMBER SOOTHINGS.

" Morgan, Michael is dead ; I think he is, Ikilled him ; I am sure I did !"

" No, Miss Jane ; there is some difference be-tween wishing a man dead and Killing him !"

" How do you know ? Who told you aboutit ?"_ asked Jane, with chattering teeth.

" There is a l_ght in your eyes, and a heat onyour cheeks, that told me long ago more thanyou knew yourself. I have seen you'grow achild again, my dear, when every body got toregard you as a staid woman."

" No, no ; I wish I wasmI wish I was a childagain."

" Why, my dear, what can be more childishthan grasping at what you cannot use, and givingup all ti_at is precious for tile sake of what yougrow less and less able to enjoy ?"

" God knows I have nothing left that is pre-cious," murmured Jane, sinking into tears.

" Yes, you have. Even they that did you thecruelest harm ,--that turned your heart in uponitself tbr their own selfish ends, could not takefrom you all that is precious, as long as God.makesmen into families. My dear, if you seenothing to make you forget your gold in what Isaw this morning, you deserve nothing betterthan gold, and I shall consider you given overentirely. If you do not despise your money incomparison with your brother Henry and hislady, it is a pity you are their sister."

" His lady! What lady?"" His wife, ma'am ; I saw her this morning,

D_ATtt-CttA_InZrt SOOT_tINGS. 53

A pretty lady she is,--so young, and speakingEnglish that I couhl hardly make out without thehelp of her_bright face. And there was her father ton, who could not speak to me at all,though he talked fast enough with his d:mghter.And Mr. ftenry was very busy with his booksand papers, in a corner of the room where theyhave hung up a curtain, that he may be, in amanner, by himself; for they have not over-much romn. You will see no gold by goingthere ; but "

" But why ? I am his sister, and he nevertook me there ; and "

" You were too rich, Miss Jane, not to wantmore money; so they waited till you could nottax them wi)h interfering with your dues. If youhad asked, Mr. Henry would have tohl you everything. As it is, he will bring his wif'e to-mor-row, and ,_,ou wilt be all the better friends forthere being no talk of dividing n'oney betweenyon. _

" Ah! Morgan," said Jane, becoming calmin proportion as she was humbled," you willleave me and go to them ; you will leave me tosuch service as gold can buy !"

" Never, my dear. You must have some oneto put you in mind what great thin_s you cando, and what great things yon have done for onewhom not even you could make happy, after all."And she cast a sorrowful look upon the corpse." You will want some one to hush you andbring you round again when you take such fitsas you have had to.night; and this one of to-

r3

5_ DEATHoCHAMBER SOOTHINGS.

night will not be the last, nay dear, if you keepyour mind and conscience on the rack aboutmoney. You will want somebody to help you tobe thankful if Providence should be graciouslypleased to lessen your wealth. And if the worstcomes to the worst, my dear, you will want some-body to cover your sin before the world, and towatch privately for any fair moment for soften-ing your heart. So I shall stay by you, andalways maintain what a noble and tender heartyou once had, up to this very midnight, MissJane."

For the next hour,--while her father's remainslay at hand, and she was hearing of Henry, andmeditating on his story,--Jane felt some of thedisgust at mere wealth, as an object, that is oftenexpressed, but which was a new feeling to her.Her mind gradually became confused while con-templating the uncertaintv and emptiness of thelife that lay before her ; and she dropped asleepin her father's chair, giving her old friend oppor-tunity at last to shed the many tears she hadrepressed under the appearance of sternness,when to be stern was the truest kindness. Sheafterwards preserved a much more distinct re-collection than Jane of the conversation of thenight.

( ._5 )

CHAPteR IV.

GOSSIPINGAUTItORSHIPo

THE only article of his father's property thatHenry coveted was the bird, which Peek hadrightly supposed was to be Jane's. Henry be-lieved that Teddy had originally been admittedinto the household for his sake, so expresslyhad it been given into his boyish charge; buthe would not now ask for it the more lbr this.He would not have allowed his wife to pick up apin from any floor of that house, or have stop-ped a cough, unasked, with a morsel of candyfrom the window. But there was one who re-membered how he had begged candy for the bird,in olddays, and helped it to sing, and been mind-ful of its wants when every oue else was toobusy to attend to them. There was one who notonly remembered this, (for Jane had quiteas gooda memory,) bt,t acted upon the suggestion. Mor-gan made bold to carry the bird to Mr. Henry'slodgings, with his sister's love, and moreoverwith an ample supply of seeds, and a choice bit ofcandy to peck at.

There was it amusing itself, now gently twit-tering, and now pouring out its song, as one ofthe short days of winter closed in, and the littleparty in Henry's lodgings prepared for theirevening labours. Ttiese three,--Henry, his wife,and his father-in-law,--were at no leisure to 1oll

56 OOSSlI'INGAUTIIORSHIP.

by tile fireside and talk of war and revolution;or to pass fi-om gaiety to gaiety, shaking theirheads the while about the mine of treason whichwas about to be sprung beneath their feet, theperversity of the people, and the approachingdownfall of monarchy. They were neither trea-sonable nor perverse, nor desirous of overthrow-ing the monarchy ; but they resembled the peo-ple in so far as it was necessary for them to workin order to live. These long winter evenings werefavourable to i.heir objects; and now Marielighted the lamp, brought out paper and ink, andapplied herself to her task, _hite her father andher husband sat down to_ether to compose that_hich she should afterwards transcribe. Henry'sliterary occupation was not merely classical proof-correcting ; though this was his ifrincipal resourcefor bread. He was the largest,--ahnost the soiecontributor to a very popular publication, which,by its talent, and, yet more, its plain speaking,gave great annoyance to certain of the ministry,much satisfaction to the opposition, and to alarge proportion of the reading population ofLondon. Henry would have acknowledged toall the world, if he could, that the work owedmuch of its value and attraction to the assistance

of his father-in-law, who had lived long enoughin England to understand a great deal of itsdomestic as well as foreign political interests,and brought to his task a large share of know-ledge and wisdom from his observation of theaffairs of the continent, and his experience oftheir vieisdtude. M. Verbhne w_ one of the

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. 57

earliest emigrants to this country, whither hecame intending to deposit his daughter, and re-turn to be useful ; but the march of events wastoo rapid. Moderate men had lost their influence,and ran but too much risk of losing their beads,and he stayed to be useful here till his countryshould stretch forth her arms again to welcomesuch men as he. Henry Farter had become attachedto his daughter while she was residing with theStephenses ; andas there seemed to M. ¥erblanca strong probability that the children of two veryrich fathers would not long remain very poor,he countenanced their early marriage, resolvingto work to the utmost in their service till he shouldbe able to recover some of Marie's intendeddower.

Marie was writing out an article from herhusband's short-hand,--an act to which she hadbecome so accustomed that it did not interferewith her attention to what was going on at theother end of the table, or prevent her interposingan occasional remark.

" And are the Mexican cucks benefited ?"she asked, in allusion to something they weretalking about. " Do the cock-fighters give uptheir sport on account of this tax ?"

" The sport is much checked, my dear. Thegovernment gets only about ,15,000 dollars a yearby this tax, so that there cannot be much cock-fighting."

" Well, then, I wish you would put in youradvice for a very heavy tax on guillutining.Where is there _o barbarous a spurt ?"

_ GOSSIPING AUTHORSH IP.

" You are for putting a moral power into the}lands of government, Maric,--a power of con-trolling the people's pursuits and tastes. Is sucha power a good ?"

'_ Is it not ? Cock-fighting may be checked ;therefore may the drinking of spirits, and theplaying with dice. And no one thinks worsethan you of gin and gaming. I am just copyingwhat you say about gin."

" But the same power may tempt the people togame in lotteries, and drive them to en_age insmuggling; and tyranmze over them in manyways. When taxes are raised upon what men eatand drink and use, there may be, and therealways is, a great inconsistency in the moral lec-tures that they practically give the people. Theysay, for instance,--' You must not use hair-powder or corn ; but come and try your luck fora 30,000l. prize.' ' If you wish for tobacco, youmust smuggle it : but we must make you pay forkeeping )'ourself clean with soap, and puttingsalt into your children's food, and trying to letlight and air enough into your house for themto live by.'"

" Welt, but this would be abusing their power.Could they not do like the Mexican people--taxbad sports--tax luxuries ?"

" And who is to decide what sports are bad,and what articles are luxuries ? If there is nobodyto contend that cock-fighting and bull-baitingare virtuous sports, there are many opinions onfox-hunting, aud snipe-shooting, and countryfairs, and village dances. And as for luxuries,--

_O_SI_IN_ AUT_ORSmP. 59

where is the line which separates them from ne-cessaries ?"

" All ! our washerwoman looked very earnestindeed when she said,' I must have my littledish of tea--1 am fit for nothing without.' And1 sui,pose our landlord says tile same of his port-wine; and certainly every nobleman thinks liemust have men-servants and horses and car-

riages."" I do not see, for my part, how government

has any more business to decide upon what arti-cles must be made dear to ttle people, than anemperor has to settle how his subjects shalt fastentheir shoes."

" Well, but what are they to tax ?"" Property. All that gover_lment has a right

to do in taxation, is to raise what money is ne-cessary; and its main duty is to do it in thefairest" proportion possible. It has nothing to dowith how people spend the rest of their money,and has no business to alter the prices of things,for the sake of exercising a moral power, or any])ower?'

" Perhaps the meddling would be saved bv thegovernment taking the articles of luxury them-selves, instead of taking money upon them. Butthey would need large warehouses for all thestrange things that would be gathered in; andthey must turn merchants. I wonder whetherthat plan has ever been tried ?"

" Yes, in Ctuna. The Sun of the CelestialEmpire took his taxes in kind,--chiefly in food."

' And _o became a great rice-merchant.

60 aossiPiNa AUrJT0_SHIP.

" And agriculture was improved to a prodi-gious degree."

" Improved ! then I suppose there would be agreat increase of whatever good things your go-vernment might choose to levy ?"

" Up to a eertkin point, taxation of every kindacts as a stimulus. But that point is easily andusually passed. The necessity of answering thecalls of the state rouses men's industry and in-vention ; and if the taxation continue moderate,the people may be gainers, on the whole, bythe stimulus. But if the burden grows heavier asmen's exertions increase, they not only lose heart,_ut that which should produce future wealth goesto be consumed without profit; and the means offurther improvement are taken away."

" Ah! how often," exclaimed M. Verblanc," have the late rulers of France been told thattaxation takes from the people, not only thewealth which is brought intothe treasury, and thecost of collecting it, but all the values of whichit obstructs the creation! How often were theyexhorted to look at Holland, and take warning !"

" There is a case apropos to what we are writ-ing. Down with it! ' What country couldcompare itself with Holland, when Holland wasthe empress of commerce, and the nursing motherof wealth ? Wi_at befell her? Her industryslackened, her traffic declined, her wealth wasted_and she knew, at lengtb, the curse of pauperism.Why? Her own committees of investigationhave declared that this change is owing to thedevouring taxation, which, not content with appro-

4GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. G[

priating her revenue, next began to absorb hercapital. First, the creation of values was limited ;then it was encroached upon ; and from that dayhas Holland been sliding from her pre-eminence.From the very nature of the decline, it must pro-ceed with accelerated speed, if it be not vigor-ously checked; so that Holland seems all toolikely to forfeit her place among the nations.'--Will that do, Marie ?"

" O yes; but you must give two or threemore examples., At least, when I wrote themesat school, I was bidden to give always three ex-amples."

" With all my heart. It would be but tooeasy to find three times thrde. What next, sir ?Spain ?"

" Spain, if you will. But one need go nofarther than :Marie's own unhappy country.Would her king have been murdered,--wouldthe people have defiled their emancipation withatrocities, if they had not been sunk in poverty,and steeped in injuries, by a devouring taxation ?That taxation might, I verily believe, have beenborne, as to its amount; but that amount wastaken, not at all from the rich and noble, butwholly from the industrious. The rich and noblespent their revenue as much as if they had beenduly taxed ; while the industrious paid, first theirincome, and then their capital, till the labourers,whose hire was thus kept back from them, rose upagainst the rich, and scattered them to the windsof heaven. The oppressors are removed; butthere is no recovery of the substance which they

G

6"2 GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP.

wasted. The impoverished may now come forth,and raise their cry of famine before the face ofheaven, but tho food that was taken from themthere is none to restore."

"So much for poor France !" said Henry,writing rapidly. " Now for Spain."

" Take but one Spanish tax,--take but theAlcavala, and you have sufficient reason why,with her prime soil, her wealth of metals, hercolonies whither to send her superfluous con-sumers, Spain is wretched in her poverty. Thealcavala (the monstrous per centage on all arti-cles, raw or manufactured, as often as they aresold) must encroach more and more largely onthe capital which is ttaematerial of wealth. Underthe alcavala, Spain could not but be ruined."

" Except in those provinces where there was noalcavala--Catalonia and Valencia. They boreup long after all others had sunk. There, Marie !There are your three examples. We have noroom for the many more that rise up."

" Not for England ?"" England ! You do not think England on the

road to ruin, my dear ? You do not yet under-stand England's resources."

" Perhaps not. But you told me of eighthundred bankruptcies within the last sevenmonths. Have you no practice of taxing yourcapital ?"

" We have a few taxes,_bad taxes,--whichare paid out of capital,--as my sister Jane willtell you. She knows something now of how le-gacies are reduced by the duties government de-

GOSSIPING AUTHORStIIP, _

mauds. It is a bad practice to lessen property iathe act of transference. Such taxes consumecapital, and obstruct its circulation. But we havenol, nlal_y such. In one sense or another, to besure, every tax may be proved to come out ofcapital, more or less; but almost all ours arepaid out of our revenue: and so will be almostany that can be proposed, provided the amountbe not increased. With the revenue that Eng-land has, and the ambition that her people enter-tain not to sink in society, exertion will be madeto keep her capital entire, as long a_ there is allyreasonable hope of success. _,Ve shall invent,and improve, and save, to a vast extent, beforewe let our capital be sacrificed."

" In the case of your property tax ?"" Why not? The purpose of a property tax

would be to take from us, not more but less thanwe pay already; less by the cost of collectionwhich would be saved. If our revenue now paystile greater sum, it would then well serve for thelesser; and all the better from taxation beingthen equalized ;---the rich man thus diverting aportion of his unproductive expenditure,--to thegreat relief of the industrious capitalist who nowpays much more than his due share. O, it mustbe a huge property tax indeed that would trenchupon our capital! Why, my dear, we might payoffour great national debt of nearly 300,000,000l.next year, without using our capital for the pur-pose? _

" Then I think you had better do it before yourG2

64 _OSSII,ING AUTHORSHIP.

great debt gets any larger. Do you think it willgo on growing ?"

" Our ministry and parliament seem deter-mined that it shall. Meantime, we are playingwith a Sinking Fund, and making believe to payoff, while we are only slipping the Dead Weightround and round our necks, and feeling it growheavier at every turn."

" I think this is child's play but too much likeour poor French administrations that have beg-gared a nation," observed M. Verblanc. " Getrid of your debt, yon wise English ; let a French-n_an advise you. If indeed you can pay offyour300,000,000/. without impairing your capital, doit quickly."

" We are at war," said Henry, despondingly ;" and, what is worse, the debt is declared to bepopular."

" The time will come when a burdened peacewill find you tired of your debt."

" Or rather our children. Even then I wouldadvise an immediate exertion to pay it off,--yes,even if it should amount to twice three hundredmillions."

"' Six hundred millions! Was ever such adebt heard of! What must your future rulers beif they thus devise the ruin of your fine country !"

" If they exceed that sum again, I would stillstruggle to pay it," persisted Henry. " To besure, one can hardly conceive of a debt of morethan 600,000,000/. ; but one can still less con-ceive of a nation being willing to pay the annual

GOSSIPING AUTHORSttlP. 6_

interest upon it. Let us see! I dare saynearly thirty millions*."

" .4h! that interest is the great g-rievance. Iftile debt be allowed to accumulate, your nationmay be subjected, within tlalf a century from thistime, to a permanent charge of interest whichwould of itself have sufficed to pay for all thewars from the time tile debt began. Yes, thisannual raising of interest is tile grievance ;_thetransferrin_ such enormous sums from the pocketsof some classes of men into hands where it wouldnever naturally find its way. Your ministersmay say what they will about the debt being noactual loss to the country, since the whole trans-action passes within the country ;--this does notlessen tile burden to those who have to pay overthetr earnings to tile national creditor, whosecapital has been blown away in gunpowder atsea, and buried with the dead bodies of theircountrymen abroad."

" Besides," suggested Marie, "' if there is nomischief in carrying on tile debt because thetransaction passes within the country, there couldbe no harm in paying it off, since that transactionwould also be only a transference."

" Very true. If all were assessed to pay offthe pubhc creditor, there would be no total loss.And as for tire real evils,---the diversion of capi-

* Lest there should be any man, woman, or child inEngland_who req_uiresto be reminded of the fact, wemention that our national debt amounts at present to800.000,000L,and that the annual interest upon it is28,o00_000l.

G3

66 GOSgIPING AUTHORSHIP.

tal from its natural channels, and the oppressionof industry,--the remedy of these would be soinestimable a relief, that in a little while the par-ties who paid the largest share would wonder attheir own ease, and at the long delay of the nationin shaking off its burdens."

" Like the heir who has resolution to sell a

part of his mortgaged estate in order to disen-cumber the remainder. But who are they thatwould pay the largest share ?"

" The richest, of course. All must contributesomething. Even the labourer would willinglysparo a portion of his earnings for the sake ofhaving his earnings to himself for ever after. Butby tile aristocracy was this debt proposed; fortheir sakes was it incurred ; by them is it accu-mulated ; while it is certain that the burden is veryfar from being duly borne by them. From them,therefore, should the licluida_ion chiefly proceed."

" But did not you say that parliament claps itshands at every proposal to burden posterity ?"

" Yes: but what kind of a parliament ? IfMr. Grey should ever obtain his great object,--if there should ever be a parliament through whichthe people may speak, and if the people shouldthen declare themselves content to go on bearingthe burden that the aristocracy of this day is im-posing upon them, why, let the people have theirway ; and I, for one, shall wish them joy of theirpatience. But if, when the people can protest,and make their protests heard, they call for suchan assessment as shall include all, but fall heavieston those through whom the debt was incurred,

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. 67

they will do that which is not only just in theabstract, but (like all that is essentially just) thatwhich is most easy, most prudent, and must provemost fortunate."

" So you venture to write that down as youspeak it," said Marie. " Will you let the word' easy' stand ?"

"Yes ; because it is used as a comparative term.Almost any plan would be more easy than sus-taining this burden from year to year. A tem-porary inconvenience only would be the result of.getting rid of it. I question whether any oneperson would be ruined ; and of the many whomust sacrifice a part of their property, every onewould reap certain advantages which must intime compensate, or more than compensate, him-self or his children. To the bulk of the peoplethe blessing would be incalculable. It is not forthose who most proudly boast of the resources ofthe country to doubt whether the thing can bedone."

"' A rich and noble country is yours," ob-served M. Verhlanc; " and the greater is thewonder and the shame that it contains so muchmisery,--such throngs of the destitute. Enor-mous as has been and now is the expenditure ofyour government, how have you not only sus-tained your resources, but augmented them ! Howhave you, while paying for your wars, improvedyour lands, and your shipping, and your manu-factures, and built docks, and opened canals, andstretched out roads ! And while the nation has

68 Goss_ei_ AUTUORSm_.

thus been growing rid_, what crowds of yourpeople have been growing poor !"

" And how should it be otherwise, when filepressure of pubhc loans falls so unequally as inEngland? Fearful as is ttle amount, the in-equality of pressure is a far greater evil. It isvery possible,_when we consider the excitementafforded to industry and invention by a popularwar,_that the capital of tile country would nothave been very much greater than now if we hadbeen spared the wars and other wasteful expendi-ture of the public money of the last twenty years ;but the distribution is m consequence mo_t fault,,,,and the future incumbrances of tim people fear-ful to contemplate."

" From your rulers having carried their systemof borrowing too far. There i_, to be sure, allthe difference in the world between an individualborrowing for the sake of trade, or profit in someform or other, and governments borrowing thatwhich is to be dissipated x ', the air or the sea, orshed upon the ground, so that it can he no moregathered up again than the rain wtfich finks intothe thirsty soil."

" Why cannot war-money be raised from yearto year,'; asked Marie, " so that the nationmight know what it was about in undertaking awar ? When my father rebuilt his chateau, hepaid foreach part as it proceeded, and so broughtaway with him no reproach of debt."

" When people are careless of their heirs,love, as inlets are of the people's posterity, timy

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP, 69

find it easier to borrow and spend/than to maketheir spendings and their levies agree. Whenrulers are afraid to ask for so much as they desireto spend, they escape, by proposing loans, tileunpleasantness of taxing. Heavily as our go-vernments have taxed us, they have been actuallyafraid to tax us enough ;--enough for the pur-poses proposed to the nation."

" They were afraid of making the people im-patient."

" Just so; and the people have shown what• the rulers of many centuries have considered an

' ignorant impatience of taxation.' That is, thenominal representatives-of the people have en-couraged expensive projects for which tke peoplehave shown themselves unwilling to pay. Therulers and the people thus appear unreasonableto each other; while the blame chiefly rests incalling those the representatives of the peoplewho are really not so. Mr. Grey and the friendsof the people are doing what they can to bringthe two parties to an understanding. When thisis done, I trust there will be no going to war atthe expense of future generations,--no runninginto expenses for which the means are not already_provided."

" They who first devised these public loanscould not have guessed what they were doing,Henry."

" They never imagined that any one would soimprove upon their practice of borrowing, as notto provide for the payment at some definite time.If,was may happen on the unexpected breaking

70 GosstPx_a AUTHORSHIP.

out of a war when the n_tion is not in very fa-vourable circumstances,--it is psriious to tax itheavily and suddenly, it may be expedient to raisethe supplies in a way which will enable the peopleto pay more conveniently, at their own leisure.:But the period should be fixed when the moneyis raised. The money should be raised uponterminable annuities ; so that, at least, every onemay know how long the burden is to endure.This is a plain rule; and happy would it have

been for the country if it had been observed fromthe day when '

" When its system of loans began ?"" I would hardly say that; for 1 do not see

how the rulers in the troubled times of the Re-volution eoutd have goveaamd the country with-out loans. The tax-payers were so divided intheir loyalty at the time, that King William and hiscouneiltam would not trave been able to raise moneymhough far the utmggle b.y taxation, and wouIdoaly l_w made themselves hated for the attempt.llal_t foreign war, undertaken by an undividedtu_ple, is a wholly different affair ; and the ad-visers of George H. had no businezs to carry on

. the borrowiag system."" They found the debt large, I slrppose, mad

left it larger; according to the methods ofborrowers from posterity."

" Yes ; it amounted, when it came into theirhands, to fifty-two millions, having grown to'thissince the Revolution, when it was only fi64,000LIt is now five times fifty-two millions."

" O, make haste and tell the_e things to your

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. _]

rich men; and they will plan how soon thismonstrous charge may be got rid of."

" There is a great deal to be done first, mydear. We have first to convince them that thisdebt is not a very good thing.--As long as theyescape paying their due share of the interest, andare aware that the liquidation must, in a con-siderable proportion, proceed from them, there isno lack of reasons, convincing to their minds, whya large national debt must be a great nationalblessing."

"' It attaches the people to the government,perhaps. Is that what they say ?"

" Yes ; as if the people will not always be themost attached to the government that most con-sults their prosperity., What can they think of agovernment that

tte stopped suddenly as Marie put her fingerson her lips, and appeared to be hstening. Sheran to the door and threw it wide open,--in timeto hear a shuffling down the dark stair-case.

" I am sure there was somebody at the door,"said she, hesitating whether to shut it again.Her father shrugged his shoulders as the cold airblew in. Henry observed that if the people ofthe house wanted anything, they would comeagain; and Marie therefore, after ¢;alling fromthe landing and receiving no answer, returned toher seat as before ; observing that it was not thefirst time she had believed some person to haveremained outside the door.

Her husband was writing down to her father'sdictation about fiallaciesin regard to tim debt ;--

7_ GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP,

such fallacies as that the parchment securities oftile public creditor were an absolute creation ofcapital ; whereas they were only the representa-tives of values which were actually sunk and lost ;--that the annual transfer of the millions requiredfor tile interest was so much added to tile circu-lation ; whereas this very sum would, in the ab-sence of the debt, have been circulating in a moreprofitable manner ;--that the public funds affordeda convenience for the prompt investment of un-employed capital; whereas there would be nolack of good investments for capital if industrywere left free ;--and, finally, that the stocks arean admirable instrument for the ascertainment ofpublic opinion ; whereas a very small amount ofdebt would answer this purpose as well as thelargest. Nobody would object to retaining the664,000/. of the revolutionary times for thissimple object.

Marie could not settle well to her employmentafter this interruption. Henry forgot it in amoment. He grew earnest; tm grew eloquent ;and, in proportion, he grew loud. Nobody camet_om below, as he had predicted. Nobody couldhave wanted anything at tile door when Henrywas asking so loudly how it was " possible forthe people to be attached to a government which,&c." And now, when he was insisting on thefirst principle of taxation,--equality,--when hewas offering a variety of illustrative cases, all ofwhich resolved themselves into equality or in-equality,--his little wife came behind him, andlaying her hand on his shoulder, asked him iu a

GOSSIPING AU_HORSIIIP. _'3

whisper whether it was necessary to speak quiteso loud.

" My love, I beg your pardon. I am afraidI have been half-stunning you. Why did notyou speak before ? I am very apt to forget thedimensions of our room," and he started uplaughing, and showed that he could touch theceiling with the extremities of his long fingers ;--" I am apt to forget the difference bet_'een thischamber and the lofty places where I used tohold forth at college. Was I very boisterous,love ?'"

" O, no : but loud enough to be heard beyondthese four walls." And she glanced towards thedoor.

" If that be all, any one is welcome to hearwhat I have to say on taxation. It will be allprinted to-morrow, you know, my dear."

Marie did know this: but she was not the

more willing that her husband should be over-heard exclaiming vehemently about equalitv,--aword held in very bad repute in those days, (vhen,if a lady made inquiries of her linen-draper aboutthe equality of wear of a piece of gingham orcalico, the shopman would shake his head ather for a leveller, as soon as she had turnedher back.

" Itow," said M. Verblanc, looking tenderly athis daughter, " how shall I forgive "those whohave put dread into the heart that was once aslight as the morning gossamer? How shall Iforgive those who taught my child suspicion ?"

12

474 GOSSII_ING AUTHOUgHIP.

" O, father, remember the night---.--"" Yes, Marie ; I knew it was the thought of

that night that prompted you to caution now.--The night," he continued to Henry, " when our

OOrfriend La Raye was arrested at our house.e have reason to believe that we had all been

watched for hours,--that eyes had peeped fromevery cranny, and that ears were planted all roundus. I myself saw the shadow of a man in ambus-cade, when a passing gleam from the court shoneinto my hall. I took no notice, and rejoined LaRaye and my child. He slipped out by a backway, but was immediately taken in the street;and for words spoken that night, coupled withpreceding deeds, he suffered.--Well may myMarie have learned dread and suspicion I"

" No, father ; not well ! Nay, Henry, youdo not know what warning I had against it ;-warning from one who knew not dread, andwould not have saved her life by so vile all instru-ment as suspicion."

Henry bent himself to listen with his wholesoul, for now he knew that Marie 8poke of herfriend, Madame Roland.

" Yes, I was warned by her that the last ira°l_iety is to fear ; and the worst penalty of adver-sity to suspect. I was warned by her that thechief danger in civil revolution is to forget green_neadows and bright skies in fields of blood andclouds of smoke ; and that those who shrink fromlooking fully and kindly even upon those whomay be the reptiles of their race, are less wise

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. 75

than the poor prisoner in the Bastile who madefriendship with his spider instead of trying to fleefrom it."

" And she observed her own warning, Marie.How her murderers quailed before her open gaze!"

" Ah, yes! In her prison, she brought hometo her the materials of happiness ; and with themneither dread nor suspicion can co-exist. Shebrought back into her own bosom the wild flowerswhich she had worn there in her childhood ; andthe creations of her father, the artist; and thespeculations of her husband, the philosopher;and opened up again the springs of the intellect,which may gush from the hardest dungeon walls ;and wakened up the voice of her mother to thrillthe very heart of silence'; and dismissed oneobedient faculty at morn to travel with the sun,and ride at eve down his last slanting ray withtidings of how embryo man is working his wayinto light and freedom ; and summoned anotherobedient faculty at midnight to paint upon thedarkness the image of regenerated man, with hiseye fixed upon science, and his hand supportinghis fellow man, and his foot treading down thepainted trifles and deformed usurpations of theworld that is passing away. Having gazed uponthis, what were any spectres of darkness to her,--whether the seowts of traitors, or an axe hang-ing by a hair ?"

"Would that all who desire that women shouldhave kindliness, and domestic thoughtfulness, andcheerfulness, and grace, knew your friend as youknew her, Marie !"

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J76 GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP,

" Then would they learn from what quarter ofthe moral heavens these enduwments may befetched by human aspiration. Would they beholdkindliness and lightness of spirit ? They mustgive the consciousness of being able to bestow,instead of the mere craving to receive, the sup-port which intellect must yield to intellect, ifheart is to answer to heart. Would they havehomely thoughtfulness ? They must not obstructthat full intellectual light in which small thingsdress themselves in their most shining beauty,as the little fly that looks dark beneath a candleshows itself burnished at noon. Let men but layopen the universe for the spirit of woman toexercise itself in, and they may chance to see againwith what grace a woman about to die can beseechthe favour to suffer more than her companions."

Of this friend, Marie could not yet speak long.Few and frequent were her words of remem-brance; and Henry had learned that the bestkindness was to let her break off, and go, tocarry her strong associations of love and admira-tion into her daily business. She now slippedaway, and stood tending her bird, and flatteringherself that her dropping tears were unnoticed,because her face was not seen. Then she filleda chafing dish, and carried it into the little closetthat served her father for a bedchamber. Thenshe busied herself about Henry's coffee, while he,for her sake, applied himself to finish his task.Presently, even he was convinced that there wassome one at the door who had not knocked.--

Without a moment'_ delay he threw open the

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP, 7_

door, and there stood--no political or domesticspy--but Jane, with a somewhat pale counte-nance, wearing a very unusual expression.

" We are glad to see you here at last, Jane.You are just in time to see what coffee Mariemakes.--But where is Morgan?" looking outon the dark landing. " You did not come alonein the dark ?"

" Yes, I did. I have something to tell you,Henry. Michael is home."

" Thank God ! I hope it is the last time hewill alarm you so thoughtlessly. I dare say heknew all that has happened, though he hid hire-self from us."

" 0 yes ; there was one who must have knowhwhere he was all the time, and told him everything; for, do you know, he has come home ina curricle of his own ! The first thing he hadto say to me was about his horses ; and the nextwas ' _

" What _'

" He is going to be married to-morrow morn-ing !"

In spite of a strong effort, Jane's countenancewas painfully moved while she announced this.Henry did not convey the comfort he intendedby not being sorry to hear any of the news. Hewas much relieved by learning that that whichwas by nature a marriage long ago, was now tobe made so by law. As for the curricle andhorses, though such an equipage might be un-suitable in appearance with tile establishment ofa grocer in Budge-row; this was altogether a

a3

_S GOSS1PING AUTHORSHIP.

matter of taste. It was certain that Michael"

couhl afford himself the indulgence, and it wastherefore a very harmless one.

Henry's cheerful air and open countenancelnade his sister feel half envious. He did notseem to dread the risk of her father's hard-earned

money being spent much more easily than it hadbeen gained. He seemed to have forgotten whatit is to have made many hundred thousandl_ounds; and he certainly knew nothing aboutShe anxiety of keeping it. How should he ?

Marie laughed as _he asked how Michaellooked in his curricle : it must be such a strangesituation to him ! She had never seen Michael.She wondered whether he looked at all likeHenry; mid then she sighed. She thought oftile carriages that had been at her disposal in:France, and that she now had not one to offer toher disinherited husband.

" Some more sugar, Marie," said M. Verblanc,"when he had tasted his last cup of coffee.

Marie went to her cupboard, and brought outthe little powdered sugar that remained at thebottom of tlle last parcel she had bought. Shehad tasted no sugar for some time; and it wasby very nice management that she had been ableto procure any for her father. She hoped thatwhat had been written this week might supplycomforts for the next. Meantime, Jane's en-rance had baffled her calculations about the

sugar. Henry smiled at the disclosure, andhelped himself to another cup of coffee, without_ugar. Marie would have borrowed from the

GOSSIPXNGAUTHOaSHIr. 79

woman of the ]louse ; but her father would notallow it. His daughter rightly imagined that hefelt uncertain of being able to pay a debt of amere luxury, and therefore did not choose toincur it.

" Ah, well !" said she ; " everything will costus less money, let us hope, when men have leftoff fighting like dogs, that they may renderpeaceable men beggars. They make us pay fortheir wars out of our tea and our sugar,--andout of our heart's blood, papa, when they makeus deny our parents what they expect at ourhands."

M. Verblane wished that Marie could have,during this time of war, the sugar that was nowgrowing in her beloved garden at home. Beet-root was now largely used for making sugar inFrance ; and M. Verblanc had learned that theproduce of his estates was considerable. Theseestates had been bought iu by a friend; and itwas hoped that they would in time be restored tothe rightf'ul owner.

Marie's scorn was excited by the idea of beet-root growing where her parterres had looked gay,and where the urns, and statues, and small foun-tains, originated by her taste, could have littlecongeniality with so thoroughly common anduseful a produce as beet-root. She mentionedone field, and another, and another, which wouldanswer the purpose quite as well as her garden.As she lightly mapped out file places she men-tioned, Jane's eye iollowed her pencil as eagerlyas Henry's. She asked of M. Verblanc, at

_0 GOgSIPINO AUTHORSHIP.

length, whether the tenure of laud was yet con-sidered secure in France.

" Of some lands, yes," answered he. " If,for example, you will buy our estates, and growbeet-root, no one will turn you out ; and it willgive us true satisfaction to see our lauds passinto such honourable hands."

To Henry's surprise, his sister seemed medita-tive. Marie looked up, smiling. " Will youbuy our lands ?"

" She cannot," said Henry. " The law isagainst investing capital in an enemy's country."

" Is it?" said Jane, quickly." One would suppose you were really thinking

of it, Jane. If you want to try your hand atfarming, there is abundance of land in Eng-land."

Jane muttered that in England there wouldalso be an income tax immediately.

" And what of that ? If you invested yourmoney abroad, you would not go and live there,would you ?"

" I am sure an income tax is enough to driveaway all who have any substance. To-leave oneno choice I To make one pay, whether one willor not ! I should not wonder to see every inde-.pendent man in the kingdom contrive to getabroad with his money, somehow or other."

" I should. Every person of substance hasnot a brother Michael, with a doubtful wife andan ambiguous family ; or a brother Henry, liv-hag in two small rooms, with a little French°_omga for a, wife."

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP, SI

" 'Tis not that, Henry. But, as I said, thisway of taxing leaves one no choice "

" But of paying one's due share of what oughtto fall equally upon all. Now tell me, Jane, whatchoice has the man whose family obliges him tospend his whole income in commodities? Whatchoice have Patience and her husband, for in-stance, of how much they shall pay to the state ?It is not with them as it is with you, that youmay contribute to the war or not, according asyou choose to have wine, and servants, and acarriage. The necessaries that you and Morganconsume cannot cost you much, I should think,--cannot yield much to the state."

Jane cautiously replied that everything de-pended on what was meant by much and little.

" Well ; I mean that Patience's eight childrenand three servants nmst consume much morebutter, and fuel, and calicoes, and bread, andsoap, and shoes, than you and Morgan."

This could not be denied." What choice, then, is left to them ? Under

file system of taxing commodities, there is achoice left to those who least need it ; while, ifthey do not choose to contribute, the poorer, whohave no choice, must bear an increased burden.Oh, Jane I I could not be sorry to see you con-tributing as much from your wealth--money,-as the man who makes your shoes in his wealth--labour ! He pays something to the state fromevery shilling that passes through his hands.Whether you pay something from every guineayou touch, I need not ask you. Has reek told

_ _OSSlPING AUTRORSHIP.

you of the rhyme that our labourers have at theirtongues' ends'just now ?"

" Peek has not ; but Michael told me of onehe had heard several sing by the road-side,-something about how they divide their labourbet_veen one and another ;--among all but them-selves, they seem to think."

" It is tim same :-

For the Debt till eight_For the Church till ten :

To defend the State

With guns and men,I must work till noon, so weary, O !

Then a spell for the Judge,And two for the Crown ;

Sure they need not grudge,When the sun goes down,

One hour for myself and my deary, 0 _.'"

While Marie was pitying the labourer, andwondering how far his statement was exagge-rated, Jane was thinking aloud how willing sheshould be to work with head and hands forChurch and State, tlle Army and the Law.

" You had rather do this than pay, becauseyour labour is not to you the wealth that labouriS to a poor man."

"And partly because I really have not enoughto do," said Jane. " Michael does not seem towish that I should keep the books any longer ;and I cannot be making frocks for Patience'sclnldren all day long, so little as I have been ac-customed to needle-work for some time. I wish

you could put me in the way of paying my taxesin the way the poor man does."

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP.

"And so take the work out of the poor man'shands? No, Jane. You must pay in gold,sister."

;' Is there no sort of work that poor labourerscannot do ?" asked Marie, with a private view toearning sugar and snuff for her father.

" Not that will serve the purposes of the go-vernment, my dear. I remember hearing, sometime ago, of a benevolent lady who was makingbread seals to convert the Jews."

" And I," said M. Verblanc, " of at leasttwenty gentle creatures who disfillcd rose-waterone whole summer • --"

" To wash the blackamoor white ?"" To civilize the Hottentot. But the re-

sults _'

" History does not record, any more thanJane's feats of knitting, and other worthy exer-cises. Why, Jane, when you have the moneyready--the very thing wanted--why should youoffer your taxes in any other form ? If youreally want to help the state, suppose you raise aregiment yourself. You and Morgan can makethe red coats, if you want something to do ; or,if that is too fearful a service for a peaceablewoman, you can take upon yourself the half-payof some fine old officer or two; or you mightbuild a bridge, or set up a Preventive establish-ment, (nothing is more wanted just now,) or doa hundred things that would save tim poor la-bourer's pocket, and not interfere with his marketfor labour. Such a free gift to the state wouldimmortalize you; and, depend upon it, it would

_4 GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP.

be far better for you than buying French land inviolation of English law."

" How they make a mockery of us helplesswomen, whom they have first made helpless !"said Marie, while wrapping Jane in her shawl." We will not mind them till we have reason forshame at being helpless."

Neither Jane nor any one else could feel un-comfortable at anything that Henry said, hismanner was so playful and kind. He was nowreaching his hat, in order to walk home with hissister, whom no inducement was strong enoughto tempt into a vehicle which must be hired. Shepreferred walking, she always declared, beingconscientious enough, however, to protest inva-riably against any one accompanying her; butHenry actually wished to carry his manuscript tothe printer this evening, and the brother andsister set off together.

The weather was most disagreeable,--bitterlycold, with a fog, irritating alike to the windpipe,the vision, and the temper. The glow-wormlamps, with each its faint green halo, lost theiruse among the moving lights that perplexed themiddle of the street. Jane had judged rightlythis time in wishing to walk ; for the groping ontile foot-way was undoubtedly a less evil thanthe confusion of carriages. The occasional back-ing, the frequent clash, the yells, the oaths of thedrivers, and now and then the snorting of afrightened horse, and the groans of a woundedone, showed that riding in a carriage is notalways the extremity of blis_ that _ome little

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. _5

children believe it to be. Henry held his sister'sarm tight within his, and she held her peace noless tenaciously while they were every momentwalking point blank up against a broad man, ora slender lamp-post, or innocently knockingdown a wearied woman, or a child who wastracing his mother's apron upwards in hopes ofat length finding her hand. After a while, itstruck Jane that this was a case in which thelongest way about would prove the nearest wayhome. By striking down one of the smallstreets leading to the river, they might escape allthe carriages, and most of the people, and get toBudge Row all the sooner for making a smallcircuit. She believed she could engage not tolead her brother into the river ; which was thechief peril in this path.

" I think there is an opening to the left, here,Jane."

"Which way does the fog drift? I thinkthere is a draught from the right, from tilewest."

"Nay: surely it comes in our faces. Nomatter! you shall not go a step farther till Ihave made out whether we cannot now turneastwards. Do stand still a moment."

While he was down on his knees, poring overthe pavement, to see which way the stones werelaid, Jane observed that it was a shame they hadno more light from the lamps, as they paid forthe great new improvement in lighting,--viz:

adding two threads to eact,l burner.""It is no fault of any one s," said Henry. "We

l

86 aossxPINo AVTHo_saIP.

may go on thickening wicks till we use up all ourcotton, and we shall make no progress in light-ing. We must make out some new principle."

"What principle ?""0, if 1 knew, I should not have left it to be

told now. All [ know is that our streets are not

perfectly lighted, and so I conclude that somebetter principle remains to be discovered. Thatis all."

"'All!" thought Jane. " I think it meansmuch ;----every thing," she continued withinherself, while rapidly following out file clewafforded by this simple act of faith of herbrother's.

There was an opening to the eastward; andthey pursued it, feeling rather than seeing thatthe river lay open on their right hand. Theyseemed to have this bank all to themselves.Except a public house or two, with open doorand lighted windows, all was dark and silent ;-so silent, that when three clocks had done strikingtheir long story, one aftel" the other, the plashof oars was heard from the water. Presently,flmre was a little clatter among the boats moorednear the margin, and tile walkers pitied the rowerswho lind to encounter worse perils than those ofEolborn and the Strand. In another instant,the.y stood stock still in a prodigious conster-nation. The yells and oaths left behind in Fleet-street were nothing to those which now burstforth immediately in front of them. Thereseemed to be threatening, struggling, grappling_fighting,--all in noise and darkness.

GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP. S_

"Back ! let us go back !" cried Jane.There was no use in attempting it. People

poured out of tile public houses, and seemed bytheir multitude, to drop from the clouds or comeup in swarms from the river. As soon as .lanemoved back, she met with a buffet ; and was sopushed about, that she began to fear slippinginto the water if she left the spot she occupied.The only thing to be done was to plant them-selves against a house, and wait for an open way,or for light. Light came ;--a gleam or two froman opened upper window, whence black headsprojected, marvellously exaggerated by the fog ;and then, after several abortive experiments withnaked candles, a torch,--a flaring red torch,which did more execution on the gloom than allthe cotton wicks in Cheapside could have done.

"A smuggling fray! Those are smugglers.How daring ! to come up so far," said Henry.

Jane was making her observations, and cor-recting her imaginings. She was scarcely awaretill now that she had always fancied a smugglera large, stout, grim man, with a bit of red draperydangling somewhere about him; a leathernbelt ; a pistol in his hand, and a keg just before,or just behind, or just on one side of him. Butone of these men was slight and wan ; andanother was deformed ; and a third wore a browncoat, like any other man ; and none scowled assmugglers and patriots always do in pictures, butone laughed, and the rest looked vexed or angryin a plain way. She even thought that the one

i2

_ GOSSIPING AUTHORSHIP.

in a brown coat looked very like a shopman,_very like Michael.

Thus much was ascertainable while the shihinglight from the torch danced from tub to face,and from the packages on the shore to theshadowy boat behind, with still a black figure ortwo in it.

" ttow very daring l" exclaimed Henry again."Yes," said a voice from a window im-

mediately in their rear. "These are the daysfor smuggling frolics. These fellows hold thatthey are in favour with the minister, as 'tis certainthey are maintained by him."

"By his multiplying the customs and exciseduties, you mean."

"Ay, sir. Multiplying and raising them.The story goes that these fellows drink theminister's health first, in every keg they open;and the saying is, that if the seditious do as theysay,--pull the minister's carriage about his earssome day,--he will have a guard of smugglersrise up of their own accord to bear him harmless.But they don't like the talk of an income tax,sir."

" It is no longer mere talk. The assessmenthas begun."

"Sure, sir, it has. And that may have madethem desperate in their daring, which theircoming here looks like. But they could nothave chosen their night better. 'Tis a wonderto me how any body could watch them. Fudge !_Vhat are they after now ?"

GOSSIPINGAUTHORBHIP. 89

A strnggle ended in making the torch moreet_cacious than was contemplated. A smugglerstaved a cask. _Vhethcr by accident or desiguwas never known,--but the torch dropped intothe rivlllet of spirit, and it turned to fire. Theblue flame shot up, waved, hovered, looked verybeautiful in itself, but cast a fearful light on thebrawlers who rushed over one another to extricatetheir shins from the flame. Jane saw a reallygrim face at last. A man in a prodigious ragebad been figl,ting with the brown-coatedsmuggler who was like Michael. The angryman had got the better of the other, and wasnow lifting him up at arms length, with thestrength of an elephant, and the ferocity of atiger. He dashed him down with a sound thatwas heard through the din.

" It is Michael !" cried the brother and sister

at the_same moment. They had both seen hisface high in the air. They burst through thethrong, and reached the body,_the dead body ;for the neck was broken against a cask.

As Jane kneeled beside him, in fl'ont of theflickering blaze, she replaced the head, horriblybent backwards as it was, and then looked up inHenry's face with kindled eyes, to say,

" He is gone ; and he is not married. He isgone this time."

I3

( 90 )

CHAPTER V.

HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANGERS.

I'rwas long beforeHenry couldget back. Hehad toconveyJane home, and rccoverhertoasafer state of mind, and then to communicatethe intelligence to Patience ; and then,--morepainful still,--to the young woman whom healways regarded as Michael's wife. At the endof four hours, when it was nearly one in themorning, he knocked at the door of his lodgings,and was instantly let in by his landlord. Heperceived that Mr. Price looked very sulky; andhe could obtain no answer to his enquiries aboutwhether Mrs. Fan-er had been uneasy at his notreturning. He bounded up stairs, and Marie wasin his arms before he saw how pale was lmr face,and how swollen her eyes. The fire burneddull, the lamp only glimmered, and there was anair of indescribable confusion in the room; sothat, occupied as Henry was with what hadhappened, he could not help feeling almostbewildered as to whether this was his lodging ornot.

" I thought you never, never would have come,"sobbed Marie.

"My love, there has been but too much reasonfor my staying so long."

" But there was so much reason for your beingat home! Henry, they have carried away myfather."

HOWTO ENTERTAIN$TRkNOERS. 91

Marie could not tell where they had takenhim. She knew nothing of English law andjustice. She had had no one to help her; forPrice himself introduced file officers of justice;and Mrs. Price was so stiff and cold in hermanner, that Marie was obliged to leave offappealing to her. All she knew was that somemen walked in while her father was reading, andshe writing; that they showed a paper which herfather did not know the use of; searched everycorner of the apartments, turning every article offurniture out of its p]ace_ and takingpossession atlast of a pocket-pistol, of beautiful workmanship,which M. Verblanc valued as the gift of an oldmilitary friend. M. Verblanc himself was alsocarried off, because he had not given notice to themagistrates of having come to live in this place.

" How is this ?" enquired Henry of Price whonow entered the room. "The arrest of aliens,and tile search forweapons, can legally take placeonly in the day time."

" They reckon it day time in this sort of thingtill nine o'clock, and it wanted full ten minutesto nine when they came."

" What did you know about this before Iwent out ?" enquired Henry, turning the light ofthe lamp full upon Price's face.

" Only what most lodging-house keepers knowin these days. I was called upon to give anaccount in writing of all the aliens in my house."

Henry conjectured very truly that the Priceswere at the bottom of the whole affair. Mrs.

Price had a very vigorous imagination ; and _he

9"_ HOW TO ESTE_TAI_ ST_NGERS.

had given out among her neighbours that M.¥erblanc was certainly a man of high rank;that he scribbled over more writing paper thanany body she ever saw, except tile gentlemanthat called himself his son-in-law ; and that thewriting must be letters, because nobody everknew what became of it, and he went outregularly once a day,--no doubt to the post-office, for he never was known to send lettersthere by any other hand.

Marie was obliged to be comforted with theassurance that this arrest would be only atemporary inconvenience ; that such things wereconstantly happening in these days; and thatthere was no doubt of her father's being releasedthe next morning. Henry would go at theearliest practicable hour, and he did not doubt ofbringing M. Verblanc home with him.

Before the earliest practicable hour, however,other engagements occurred to prevent Henry'sexecuting his design. Price came in, while thehusband and wife were standing by tile fire,mournfully discussing their plans for this day_hen so much was to be done. Price wished

to give notice that he must ha_e his rent thismorning. He had gone without it too long, andbe had no intention of waiting any longer.Henry was not aware that the time of paymentwas past. He understood that it was to bequarterly : but Marie produced the little that sitehad laid by for the purpose; and Henry wasreminded to fed in his pocket for the manuscriptsthat were to ]_ve been carried to their destination

HOW TO ENTERTAIN _TRANG_RS. 9_

the night before. They were gone. His pocketwas empty.

Never mind ! This was no time to think aboutdisappointments in the way of authorship ; and,as for the gain,--it was but too probable thatHenry would presently have more money thanhe desired. Price seemed to have some idea of

this kind; but not the less did he give noticethat his lodgers must turn out at the end of theweek. The rooms were already let; so therewas no use in saying any thing about it. Henrycould only suppose that tidings of Michael'sdeath, and the manner of it, had reached thehouse, and that it was concluded that, as the onebrother had been a smuggler, the other must bea swindler.

Before Price was out of the room, came theprinter's man for the manuscript which had beenlost. While he was still shaking his head overMarie's calculation of how soon she could make

another copy from the short-hand notes she hadhappily preserved, the matter was settled by thepublisher sending to ask for the last Greek proofHenry had lind to correct, and to give notice thatthis was his final transaction with Mr. Farrer,who need not trouble himself to write any thingmore for the publication of which he had been thechief support. No further communication fromhis pen would be accepted. A receipt in form forthe money now sent was requested and given, andthe cash immediately paid over to Price in dis-charge of the remainder of the rent. The few_hiUings left were_ when the husband and wife

94 HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANOER$.

were alone again, pushed from one to the otherwith the strange impulse of mirth which oftenarises under tim extremest pressure of vexationand sorrow.

" Marie, what do you think of all this ?" askedher husband, meeting her eye, which was fixedwistfully upon him.

" I think that if my poor countrymen havetheir errors, the English have at least their whims.It is at least remarkable ttmt on this morning,when there is so much to call you abroad, oneafter another should come to keep you at home."

" Very remarkable !" was all that Henry saidbefore he relapsed into reverie. He roused him-self, and snatched up his hat, assuring his wife,however, that it was yet, he believed, too earlyfor him to obtain access to her father, or justiceon his behalf. He had not proceeded far downatairs when he was met by three gentlemen, whorequested two minutes' conversation with him.They came to invite him to be present at a meet-ing to be held for the purpose of declaring attach-ment to the constitution.

" Impossible, gentlemen. You are not awarethat my only brother died suddenly last night. Icannot appear needlessly in public to-day."

And he would have bowed them out ; but theyhad something more to say than condolence. Ashis attending the meeting was thus unfortunatelyrendered impossible, perhaps he would sign theaddress to his Majesty.

" That will depend on what it contains. Iown I do not see the immediate occasion for such

HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANGERS, 95 -

a protestation ; but if the address should expresswhat I think and feel, I shall have no objection ":to put my name to it." _

Tile spokesman conceived that, as every true _:Englishman must be attached to the constitution,there could be no risk to any true Englishman inengaging to declare his attachment.

" Certainly, sir, if we were all agreed as towhat the constitution is; but this is the verypoint on which men differ. One person thinksthat a dozen or two of trials and transportationsof ignorant and educated men for sedition, anda doubling of the taxes, and an overawing of

the House of Commons, are measures of support ito the constitution; while others consider them ias violations. Therefore I must fully understand !what is involved in the address before I sign it ;and can, in the mean time, pledge myself tonothing, gentlemen."

The visitors looked at one another, and de-parted,--one sighing, another giggling, and thethird looking back till the last moment,--like a lchild who is bidden to look at a traitor, and al- ,:most expects to see him turn into some rare ani-ta al,--a Turk or an ourang-outang.

This time Henry got as far as the house-door,There he was turned back by the commissioners _who were employed in making the returns for theincome tax. In vain Henry assured them thathe had hitherto had no income, and that, as soon .g_as he could ascertain whether he was to have

any of his brother's money, and how much, hewould let the gentlemen know. They were not

95 HOW TO ENTERTAIN $TRANfiERS,

content with assertions given in the street, and,as Henry had no doubt of finally satisfying themin two minutes, he invited them up stairs.

" You are aware, sir, that we are sworn to themost inviolable secrecy as to the affairs of indi-viduals ; that we are empowered, when dissatis-fied, to call for written explanations of the re-sources of living, and even to impose an oath, ifnecessary."

" Very needful precautions, I should think,considering how strong is the temptation to con-cealment and fraud, and how very easy evasionmust be in a great number of cases. Very ne-cessary precautions, if they could but be effec-tual."

" Effectual, sir! Do you suppose we shallviolate our oath of secrecy ?"

" By no means _ but it is impossible that con-fidence should not often be reciprocally shaken,when the affairs of individuals are thus involun-tarily exposed. This inquisition is a heavygrievance, indeed, and it opens the door to a verypernicious use of influence."

" Well, sir, every tax must have its disadvan-tages; and when a large revenue must beraised "

" True ; every tax is bad, in one way or ano-ther ; yet, taxes there must be. I do not knowthat there can be a better than an income tax, ifit can be fairly raised, and duly proportioned tothe tenure of incomes. If I find myself soon inpossession of an income, I shall offer my propor-tion withpleasure_ you willnot needtoimpose

.HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANGER_. 07

the oath on me. But I do wish, as this tax affordstbe means, as you say, of raising a large reve-nue,--I do wi_h that we were relieved of someof our indirect taxes. An income tax may bevery cheerfully borne when it is imposed insteadof the in,tirect taxes which fall so unequally aswe know they do ; but the same tax may be feltas a heavy grievance when it is imposed in addi-tion,--filling u t) the measure of hardship. Now,we have a load of partial taxes which can beconveniently paid; and also a fair tax,--fair illprinciple,--which must be vexatiously levied.Let us have the one or the other, but not both."

" But, Mr. Farter, you are aware that the evilsof this income tax will be lessened perpetually.We are now just in the hustle and confusion ofmaking new returns ; but when we can establish asystem of ascertainment of the wages of variousemployments, and the interests upon loans, andthe averages of capital invested by the commer-cial men in our districts,--in somewhat the samemanner as we can already learn the rental oflandlords from the terms of their leases, and theprofits of the tenants from the proportion profitsare considered to bear to rent,--when this isarranged, there will be much less occasion forvexatious questioning."

•' And much less facility of evasion. Verytrue. After all, this tax is a violation of a subor-dinate rule of taxation, while our indirect taxesviolate the first and chief. In fact, it seems tome to violate only that which regards the con-venience of the eontributor_ a._ to the mode of

IK

9_ HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANOER_,

payment; while it agrees with the prineiple,mto equalize the contributions; with another,--tomake the amount, and the time and manner eertain; and with a third,--to keep out of thepockets of the people as little as possible overand above what goes into tile treasury. When-ever I have an income, I had much rather seeyou on an appointed day, and pay my portionas I would pay my house-rent, knowing thatwhat I pay goes straight to its professed desti-nation, than be treated like a child, and inveigledinto paying a little here and a little there, with-out knowing it ; or, if knowing it, with a prettystrong assurance that plenty of pockets are gap-ing to swallow some of it by the way."

Marie thought this was like sweetening physicfor a child. She wondered that, in a nation ofmen, such devices should be allowed to be stillenacted.

" We are not yet a nation of men, my dear,because we are not yet an educated nation. Thesetaxes on commodities are taxes on ignorance.When, as a nation, we grow wise enough to set-tie rationally what we shall spend, and why, and]low, we shall grow manly enough to come for-ward with our contribution, instead of letting itbe filched from us while we are winking."

" And yet, sir, it is the rich, and not theignorant who complain of this new tax, and areall in favour of the old system. They had ratherpay double for their tea and their wine than havemore money raised in this new way."

" Yes; no doubt. And the poor man had

HOW TO ENTEI_,TA1N STRANGERS. 99

much rather have his bread and beer bear their

natural price, and pay his taxes out of his wages.Thus he is sure of paying no more than his due ;while the rich man will be properly compelled tocontribute in proportion to tile protection hederives from government. He owes so muchmore than the poor man to the state which guardshis greater substance, that it is most unfair toleave his payment to the chance of how muchwine, and tea, and other articles he may con-sume. He cannot himself consume more bread

and beer than his poor neighbour; and it is amatter of choice whether he shall keep servantsto consume much more. Such choice ought notto be left, when the alternative is the poor manpaying the more for the rich man's spending less."

" Why, indeed, it cannot be justified that thecobbler who patches a miser's shoes should payfifty per cent. to the state, when the miser himselfpays only one per cent. If it be a good rule,---(and it is the rule on which we proceed, sir,)--that a just taxation will leave individuals in thesame relation in which it found them, the advan-

tage will be entirely on tile side of the measurewe have now in hand."

" And then comes the question whether theremay not be a better tax still. An income tax isimmeasurably better than a system of indirecttaxation ; but there may be means of avoidingthe inequalities which remain even under tile im-proved system. If you once begin to graduateyour income tax according to the value of thetenure of income_ "

_2

100 .ow TO E._'rnaT_i._ swa._NaEas,

" Why, it is hard that the physician, whoselarge income expires oil his becoming infirm,should pay more than the fundholder or land-owner, whose income is permanently yielded tohimself and his-children."

" And then, from the ftmflholflers, you mustexcept those who hold terminable annuities. Fiveper cent. is a much larger payment from a manwhose income is to terminate in ten or twenty)'ears, than five per cent. would be from theowner of land. And again ; if you lay a tax offive per cent. on the labourers' wages, the taxfalls upon the capital; for the wages must risejust so much as the tax amounts to. It followsof course that the receiver of rent ought to paya higher per centage, because the capitalist paysfor himself and his labourers too. Now, if weonce begin making these modifications, (whichjustice requires,) it seems the most direct andefficacious method to have a property tax ; i.e.,to tax those incomes which are derived from in-vested capital. Ah ! I see you shake your heads ;I see what you would say about the difficulty ofdefining what is property ; and the hardship in afew cases,--as in those of small annuitants ; andthe tendeney,--the very slight,_the practicallyimperceptible tendency to check accumulation._¥e agreed before that all taxes are bad; thatthere are some difficulties attending all."

" But do not you allow these evils, sir ?"" I do ; but I hold them to be so much smaller

than those we have been submitting to all this_l_ile as to be almost lo_t in the comparison,_

HOW TO _NTERTAINSTRANG_I_S. 101

except for the ditt]culty that there always is inchanging taxes. As for tile defiaing of whatproperty is, distinctions have been made quite assubtle as between investments that are too tran_sient to come under the title of property, andthose that are not; between the landlord's pos-scssion of a field that yields rent, and the tenant'sinvestment in marl which is to fertilize it for aseason or two. Wherever legislation interfereswith the gains of industry, nice distinctions haveto be made ; and this case will hardly rival ourexcise regulations. As for the small annuitants,though their case may be a less favourable onethan that of richer men, it will be a far morefavourable one than it is now, when their smallincomes must yield enormously to the statethrough the commodities they buy. As for thetendency to check accumulation, it is al_o nothingin comparison with that which at present exists.What can check accumulation so much as the

enhancement of the price of every thing that thecapitalist and labourer must buy, when part of theadded price goes to pay for the trouble and trickeryattendant on a roundabout method of taxation ?No, no. While, besides this enhancement of price,five or six sevenths of the taxation of the king-dom is borne by the labouring and accumulat-ing classes, I cannot think that our capital wouldgro_v the slower for the burden being shiftedupon the class of proprietors who can best affordthe contribution, which would, after all, leavethem in the same relation to other individuals inwhich it f_uud them."

K3

10_ HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANGERS.

" It would certainly issue in that cquality,'sinceincome from skill and labour would proportionitself presently to the amount of property. Thephysician who received a guinea-fee from tiletill now lightly-taxed proprietor, would then re-ceive a pound; and so on, through all occupa-tions. All would enjoy the relief from the dimi-nished cost of collection, as I hope we shall alldo under our present commission, sir. Well, youwill not oblige us to put you upon your oath asto your amount of income. You really have notan income above 60/. a year, Mr. Farter ? thatis our lowest denomination, sir; we tax noneunder 60/. a year."

" If you choose to swear me, you may; butmy wife and I can assure you that we have noincome beyond the few guineas that I may chanceto earn from week to week. We have not beenmarried many months ; and we have never daredvet to think of such a thing as a regular yearlyincome. Well, it might be imprudent ; but thatis"all over, I believe. If I find that I now amto have too.hey ...."

The commissioners disclaimed all intention ofjudging the principles or impulses under whichHenry's matrimonial affairs had proceeded,--hoped to hear from him soon, if their good wishesshould be fulfilled, and left him looking at hiswatch, and assuring Marie that even yet it wasvery early.

'" But who are these ?" cried the unhappy lady,as two men entered the room, without the cere-mony of bowing, with which the late visiters had

ltOW TO ENTERTAINSTRANGERS, 103

departed. " My husband, there is a conspiracyagainst us !"

" I believe there is, Marie : but the innocentcan in this country confound conspiracies."

Henry was arrested on a charge of seditiouswords spoken at divers times ; and also, of not]laving given due notice of an alien residingwithin the realm without complying with tile pro-visions of tbe Alien Act.

Tile word "sedition" sounded fearful to Marie,who bad talked over with her husband, again andagain, the fates of Muir and Palmer, of Frostand Winterbottom, and many other victims of thetyranny of the minister of that day. Her firstthought was,

" They will send you to Botany Bay. But Iwill go with you."

Henry smilingly told her he should not haveto trouble her to get ready to go so far, he be-lieved ; but if she would put on her bonnet now,he had no doubt she would be permitted to ac-company him, and learn for herself where themistake lay which had led to this absurd arrest.

She went accordingly, trembling,--but makinga great effort to shed no tears. In those days oftyrannical and vaguely-expressed laws, of dreadand prejudice in high places, a prisoner's fatedepended mainly on the strength and clearness ofmind of the magistrate before whom he mightbe brought. Henry was fortunate in this re-spect.

Some surprising stories were told,--newer toHenry and Marie than to anybody else,---of

104 HOW TO ENTERTAIN STRANGEIIS.

Henry's disaffection,--of his having dined witt_old college friends who, to the disgrace of theireducation, had toasted the French republic, andlaughed as tile king's health was proposed;of his having been overheard asking holy thepeople could help hating a government whichhatl Mr. Pittr at the head of it, and talked vehe-mently with some foreigners in praise of equality ;and of his having finally refused to declare hisattachment to the constitution.

This story was not very formidable when itwas first told ; and after the magistrate had ques-tioned the witnesses, and heard Henry's ownplain statement, he beheved that no ground re-mained for commitment, or for asking bail. Nota single seditious word could be sworn to ; and,as to any imprudent ones that might have beendropped, tile assertions of the witnesses weremuch more imprudent, inasmuch as they could inno way be made to agree with themselves or oneanother. This charge was dismissed, and Mariefound she should not have to go to Botany Bay.

The other accusation was better substantiated.M. Verblane had forgotten to give the requiredaccount of himself when he had changed hisresidence, and it had never occurred to Henry tolodge an information against him, though heknew, (if he had happened to recollect,) that theforms of the alien law had not been compliedwith. The magistrate had no alternative but tofine him, and, as the amount was not forthcom-ing, to commit him to prison till the fine _houldbe paid.

I_9W TO ENTERTAIN STRANGERS. 10,_

Marie's duty was now clear. She must _o toHenry's sisters, and obtain the money from them,in order to set her husband free to assist herfather.

Cn_a'TEa VI,

HOW TO ENTERTAIN :BORROWERS.

Ivwas a strangeway ofvisitingtheoldhousein]3udge-Rowforthefirsttime.Sam was standingtwo inchestallerthanusual,

from beingleftinsolechargeof theshop. Hedidnot know exact!yhow hismasterhad died;and,withallhisself-importance,was more likelytoreceivetheinformationfromthemany inquisi-tivecustomerswho came forpennyworthsthantogivethem any. Morgan had not thoughtitnecessaryto be explicitwithhim. She advisedhim to mind hisbusiness,and letMiss Farrerseewhathe coulddo ina timeof familydistress.He was profuseinhis assurancestoMarie thathismistresscouldseeno visitorsto-day.Per-ccivingthatshewas a foreigner,he concludedthatshewas a stranger,and was veryunwillingto leteven Morgan know that any one wishedtospeakwithher.

Marie thoughtshe had never seenanythingmore forlornthanJane'saspectasshesatinherlittleparlour.She seemedtobe doingnothing,not even listeningto Dr. Say,who was attempt-

106 : HOW TO I_NTt_RTAIN BORROWERS.

ing soft condolence. There was not even theoccupation of making mourning, which had beena resource on a former occasion. The bible layopen on the table ; but Jane was sitting by thedarkened window as Marie entered,--Dr. Sayhaving established himself by the fire.

" You will thank me," said Marie, "for bring-ing you occupation,--for enabling you to helpus, sister." And-she told her story, and what itwas that she desired Jane to do.

Jane seemed duly shocked at first ; but whenshe found that Henry was in no danger, and thatthe whole case resolved itself into a money mat-ter, her sympathy seemed to cool. She was silentand thoughtful.

" Come," said Marie, rising, " bring out themoney ; and will you not go with me ?"

But Jane had something to say; or rather,she seemed to be thinking aloud. Wllo knewwhether Michael llad leh a will, and whetherHenry would have any of the money ? Besides,she had not so much in her purse; and it seemedto her that this would not be the end of the busi-

ness. If there was a conspiracy against Henry,and his enemies knew that his family had money,they would soon make up another charge, andnobody could foresee where it might end. Per-haps the best kindness to Henry would be forhis family to do nothing, that it might be seenthat there was no use in pursuing him for evil.Perhaps ._

Dr. Say emphatically assented to the whole ofJane's reasoning,

HOW TO ENTERTAIN BORROWERS. ]07

" I am afraid of mistaking your English,"said Marie, losing her breath. " Do you meanthat you will not help Henry ?"

" ]_erhaps some other friend . It mightbe better tor him that some one else---

Henry must have many friends."" Perhaps. But in France we have sisters

who have begged alms for their brother's de-fence, and thereby found a place beside themunder the axe from which they could not savethem. I thought there was one univ_sal sister'sheart."

Jane called after her in vain. She was gonelike lightning. _,iorgan, however, detained heran instant at the door.

" Wait, my dear young lady! They willfollow you in the streets if you look so wild,ma'am ]'_

" Then I will tell tbem how I scorn yourLondon rich sisters that keep their brothers pri-soners for paltry gold !"

" Do not go, ma'am I Do stay till one callthink a little," urged the horror-struck Morgan.

" No, I will not stay. But I will not judgeall till I have seen another sister."

" Ah ! Mrs. Peek. Go to Mrs. Peek, ma'am ;and I would go with )on, but.

Marie thought this was a land of " buts." Shecould not, however, have stayed till Morgan couldget ready. She made all haste to Mrs. l%ek'shouse.

She did not know how to believe that the wo-man she saw, nursing a baby, could be a sister

108 HOW TO ENTERTAIN BORROWERS

ef Henry's. The house was as noisy as Jane'swas quiet; and the mistress as talkative and])liable as Jane was reserved and stiff.

In her untidy black bombazeen dress, shelooked more like a servant than did her children'snursemaid in her black coarse stuff; and thevarious sounds of complaint that came from littlefolks in every corner of the house were less wear-ing than the mamma's incessant chiding and re-laining.--She did not know anything about whetherher brother ttenry was really married or not,she was sure; for Henry never came near themto let them know what he was doing.

" No wonder," thought Marie, when shelooked back upon the confusion of chddren's toys,stools of all sizes, and carpets (apparently spreadto trip up the walker), among which she hadworked her way to the seat she occupied.

_" There are so many calls upon one, you see,ma'am; and those that have large families,--(what a noise those boys do make !)--so muchis required for a large family like ours, that it isno easy matter to bring up children as somepeople do in these days. The burdens are sogreat ! anal" I am sure;we could never think ofsending a son of ours to the university, if we weresure of his settling ever so welL--O, to be sure,as you would say, ma'am, that should make nodifference in our helping Henry, hoping he wouldnot get into any such scrapes again. Yfell,ma'am, I will ask Mr. Peek when he comeshome, to see if anything can be done.--O, thatwould be too late, would it ? Well, I don't know

HOW TO ENTERTAIN BORROWERS. 109

that that signifies so much, for I have a notionthat as Mr. Peek is a king's servant, it might notbe so well for him to appear. Dear me ! I neverhave any money by me, ma'am, but just for mylittle bills for the family ; and I should not thinkof parting with it while my husband is out.-Why, really, I have no idea where you could findhim. My little girl shall see whether he is athome, though I am quite sure he is not. Grace,my dear, go and see whether your father is in theback room. O, you won't. Then. Jenny, youmust go. There ! you see they won't go, ma'am ;but it is of no consequence, for I do assure youhe went out after breakfast. I saw him go.Did not you, Harry ?"

" To dare to call one of their dirty, rude boysafter my Henry !" thought Marie, as she ran outof tile house. Mrs. Peek stood looking after her,wondering one thing and another about her, tillthe baby cried so loud that she could not put offattcmling to him any longer.

Marie could think of no further resource butto go back to Morgan for advice. She was nowvery weary, and parched with thirst. She wasnot accustomed to much exercise, and had neverbefore walked alone through crowded streets ; herrestless and anxious night was also a bad pre-paration for so much toil. She was near sinkingat once when, on returning to the shop, shefound from Sam that Morgan had just gone out,he did not know whither.

" She could not go out with me !" thought24 L

I0 HOW TO ENTERTAIN BORRO%V-ERSo

Marie. " My Henry is the only English personworthy to t_e French, after all."

" Sure, mistress, you had better sit down,"observed Sam, wiping a stool with his apron.On being asked whether he could let her have aglass of water, he did more than fulfil ttle request.He found, in a dark place under the counter, partof a bottle of some delicious syrup, which hemixed with water, with something of the grace ofan apothecary. Marie could not help enjoyingit, miserable as she was; and Sam could nothelp smiling broadly at the effect of what he haddone, grave as his demeanour was in duty boundto be this day.

Morgan's " but" proved one of the most_iguificant words she bad ever spoken. She didbetter than go with Marie.

She entered Jane's parlour, and stood besidethe door when she had closed it.

" I must trouble you, ma'am, to pzy me mywages, if you please."

Jane stared at her in astonishment.

" What do you mean, Morgan ?"" I mean, ma'am, that I have had no wages

for these eleven years last past, and I wish tohave them now."

" Morgan, I think you have lost your. senses !You never asked my father for these wages."

" No, Miss Jane, because I held his promise ofbeing provided for otherwise and better, and mylittle money from elsewhere was all that I wantedwhile here. But 1 have it under your hand,

HOW TO ENTERTAIN BORROWERS. 1 [ 1

riaa'am, what wages I was to have as long as Ilived with you."

" And you have my promise also that I wouldremember you in my will."

" Yes ; but I would rather have my due wagesnow instead."

Jane could understand nothing of all this.People were not accustomed to be asked formoney in so abrupt a way, especially by an oldfriend.

" Because, ma'am, people of my class are notoften so much in want of their money as I am to-day. If I had not known that you have themoney in the house, I should not have asked forit so suddenly. I will bring down the box,ma'am."

She presently appeared, hauling along a heavybox with so much difficulty as to oblige Jane tooffer to assist her. Morgan next presented a key.

" How came you by this key ?" asked Jane,quickly, as she tried it, and the box lid flew open.Jane felt in her bosom for her own kev, whichwas there, safe enough, on its stout black" ribbon.

Morgan's master had secretly given her thiskey years before. He kept one thousand poundsin hard cash in this box ; and it now appearedthat he had set Morgan's fidelity and Jane'savarice as a cheek upon each other. Each wasto count over the money once a-month.

" You can count it now, ma'am, at your leisure,when youhave paid me. i shall not toucix thatkey any more."

" O, yes, do, Morgan," said her mistress,L2

]- 1_ llOW TO /_NTERTAIN BORROWERS.

with a look of distress. " All this is too much

for me. I cannot take care of everything my-self."

" Then let it go, 3Iiss Jane. I have not hadthis box under my charge so many years, to benow followed about by your eyes, every time I gonear the place where it is kept. Better )'ou wererobbed than that."

" And you are too proud to expect a legacyfrom me ? That is the reason you want yourmoney now ? You would cut off all connexionbetween us ?"

•' Such is not my present reason, ma'am ; butI do not say that I should like to see you plan-ning and phuming how you could But I won'ttbllow it out, my dear. h]y wages, if youplease."

And she laid down a formal receipt for thesum. and produced the canvass bag in which todeposit her wealth. She then observed that shemust walk abroad for two or three hours, buthoped to be back before she was much wanted.If her mistress could spare her till dark, sheshould take it as a particular favour; but shecould not say it was necessary to be gone morethan three hours at farthest.

Jane seemed too much displeased or amazedto reply; and _lorgan left her counting theguineas. She heard the parlour-door bolted be-hind her, so that no more hlaries could gainaccess to her mistress.

How Marie reproached herself for her secretcensure of _lorgan, when she found Henry at

aow TOENTERrAIs BOaROWERS. 118

liberty,--the fine havin_ been paid bv his faith°ful old friend! Morgan had slipped away assoon as tbe good deed was done. She awaitedHenry and Marie, however, in their bumblehome, whither she had proceeded to prepare adelicate httle dl_ner for them, and see that allwas comfortable for their repose from the troublesof the day. It was no fault of hers that theybrought heavy cares with them ; that Henry hadto console his Marie under her father's misfor-

tune,--his month of imprisonment, and sentenceto leave the country at the end of it. What

more could any one" do than join with them inreprobating the tyranny of the Alien Act ?

CHAPTER VII.

FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW.

MICHAEl. was quietly buried when the verdict of" accidental death" had been duly agreed upon ;and there was ample employment for Henryduring the month of M. Verblanc's imprisonmentin settling the affairs. There was no will ; andhe therefore felt that the children, and she whomhe considered as the widow, though the law didnot so recognize her, had the first claim upon hisjustice. He was resolved that an ample provi-sion should be made for them ; and that it shouldbe done without encroaching on Mrs. Peek'sshare. Jane ought to have given the largestproportion, not only because she had no claims

L3

114 FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW.

upon her, but because her survivorship enrichedher by means of this very death. She did con-tribute; but Henry's portion was much larger;and it soon appeared that Jane would not be athand in future, if further assistance should be re-quired.

Henry had, in his investigation of the affairs,learned timt which prevented his being surprisedon hearing from Morgan that Jane meant to goabroad. She had known so much of the smug-gling transactions of the firm, that stze had pro-bably a good understanding with certain personsout at sea, who could aid her in getting awayfrom the country she no longer loved, and inplacing her where she might invest her money soas to avoid either an income or a property tax.

" It is a strange freak of my mistress's, sir, isnot it?" said Morgan. " She must feel it soherself, or she would not have left me to tell youthe story."

" It would be strange in most people, Morgan.I know it is said bv some that an income or aproperty tax must drive individuals to invest theirmoney abroad ; but I am sure that except in afew rare cases, it would not be so. A man hasso much more confidence in the stability:oflhe in-stitutions of his own country than in those of anyother,--there are so many inducements to keephis treasure where his heart is,--near his kindredand llis father's house,--his obligations are somuch more calculable at home than abroad,--and, above all, it is so clear that the substitutionof a direct for an indirect tax must set free the

FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW. 115

exercise of his capital and his industry,--that aman must be burdened indeed before he would

think, for this reason alone, of placing his capitalelse_here. Jane's caseis different."

" Ah ! Mr. Henry, she has left off loving herkindred and her father's house."

" Not so, I hope : but she is no longer happyamong them, for reasons which we can under-stand."

" She owned as much to me, sir, as that shecould not bear to think of yon poor young womanand her children having what had been so hardlyearned ; or to see the waste and dawdling goingon in Mrs. Peek's family ; or to pay her taxes ina heavy lump when the government chose to callfor it, instead of buying a little of this and a littleof that, when she liked, without having to remem-ber that she was paying taxes."

" Ah ! that is the reason why people like thoseindirect taxes. But I should have thought thatJane had seen enough of the waste that there isin the collecting them, to think very ill ofthem."

'" The taking stock of my master's tea, sir,once a-month--what a farce it was ! How manyofficers were paid for little more than not seeingcheats! and when one thinks of the permits,and the entry books, and the army of spies,_for so they are,--that have to he pa'id out of theduties collected, one wonders that Miss Jane, oranybody else, should be found to speak up forsuch an extravagant plan."

" Those will be mo_t ready to do so _ho are

1 I(_ FAREWELLTO BUDGE'ROW,

unwilfing to pay in proportion for the protectionwhwh is of most importance to those who havethc most property. But they forget the plain rulethat when the people's money is raised to bespentfortilegoodof thepeople,aslittleaspos-slbleoughtto be wastedby the way. It isashamethatthecostofcollectionshouldbe seven

pound ten in everyhundredpounds,when theodd shillings would be enough under good ma-nagement."

" But is that true, sir ?"" Quite true ; and the less this particular mat-

ter is looked to, tlae wider will the difference bebetween what is and wtlat ought to be. My wifewill tell you that there was a time in France whenthe nation paid five times as much in taxes asever arrived at the treasury. Under a wiser ma-nagement, the same peol_le afterwards paid nomore than a tenth part of their taxes to the col-lectors, though there were above two hundredthousand persons employed in the collection.O, yes, these were far too many ; but you maysee what a difference it makes to the people whe-ther this point be managed well or ill ; and it isvery clear that it must be a great advantage tohave a plan of taxation which would employ afew persons, at regular times; so that peoplewould know what they had to pay and when, andflint as little as possible would be lost by theway."

" They say that an immensity of money willbe raised by this income tax."

_' A great deal ; and so there ought to be,

FA_E_'ELL TO BUDaE-RO,V. 117

Something great ought to come out of so disa-greeable a process. It is very disagreeable to beexamined, and have one's concerns pryed into inthe way that these commissioners mu_t do. I amsure I do not wonder at my sister's dislike of it."

" O_ sir, | never saw such a conflict as shehad to go through with herself. I determinednever to be present" again when the gentlemencame. When she did bring herself to give anaccount, I know what a struggle she had to tellthe truth. I would not for the world that anyone else had been there; but, sir, the commis-sioners laughed, and winked, and threatened herwith the oath."

" One is exposed to the impertinence of tax-gatherers under any system ; and I do not knowthat it need be worse under this tax than anyother. But it is provoking that this must beadded to what we had to bear before. Prices arejust as high as ever. There has been no reduc-tion of the old taxes yet. Our producers of foodand clothing, and all that we want, go on payingtheir taxes in commodities, and not only chargingthese on the articles when sold, but the intereston their advance of money for the tax. And sodoes the consumer's money run out in many achannel."

" All this helps my mistress abroad. But,sir, is it true that she cannot go safely ?"

" Yes, and she must know it."" She does. She tfinted as muchtome. Do

you suppose anybody will stop her ?"" if tl,ey can get hold of her ; but her friends

118 F_REW£LLTOBUDGE-ROW.

are those who will convey her safely, if anybodycan. She knows that at present it is high trea-sou to invest money in an enemy's country, parti-cularly in land_"

" O dear; and I believe it is your Frenchgentleman's lands that she has in view."

" We cannot prevent her going, if she choosesto run the risk; but a great risk it is. The sateof their lands is supposed to be the principal meansthat our enemies have for carrying on the war ;and no English person is allowed, under the pe-nalty of death, to purchase land or to buy intothe French funds. But what will be done about

Jane's annuity ?""' She says she has laid a plan for getting it,-

whether by coming over once a-year in the sameway that she goes, or by some other device, I donot know. Surely, sir. those tontine annuitiesare very bad things ! Worse than lotteries, sincethey make people jealous of their neighbours'lives, antt rejoiced to hear of their deaths."

" Very bad! No gaming is much worse.Tile advantage to the annuitants is, in its nature,most unequal ; and it is so disadvantageous to thegovernment, that none of its money is set freetill the last of the lot is dead, that I wonder thesystem is persevered in."

" I am sure I wish the government had hadthe Mr. Hills', and my master's; for Miss Janehas never been like the same person since. Doyou know, sir, I believe there is one who will beparticularly disappointed at her going away ?"

" You mean Dr. Say. Do you think he hasever had any chance with her ?"

FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW. ]]9

,t Sometimes I have thought he had; and Ishould not wonder, after all, if she thinks to takehim on "

" :No, no, Morgan. She never can mean tomarry that man."

" Why, sir, when people of her spirit havebeen cruelly disappointed once, as I know her tohave been, they are apt to find too late tile wantof a friend to join themselves to ; and yet theydo not like to give up their sway. Now, Dr. Sayis so yielding- "

" Ay, at present."" True, sir ; but he is very yielding indeed, to

judge from the coldness he has put up with frommy mistress, and his hanging to her still. Butshe will not have him yet ; not till she has gai_md

her particular end in going abroad; and then,perhaps

" This is the way human creatures do whenthey are perverted and injured hke my _oor_ister. They must finish some trifling thing,gain some petty point, and then benin to thinkof the realities of life. Poor Jane !"what can afew more thousands be to her ? Morgan, haveyou ever thought of going with her?"

" It would have been my desire, if it had notbeen my promise, to.stay with her as long as weboth lived ; but from her saying nothing to meabout it, and her talking of things that I believeare to be left for me to do after she is gone, Isuppose that she does not wish for me."

" Then where will you go? What do youthink of doing ?"

1"_0 FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW.

" Just what Providence may prepare to myhand. I have scarcely cast nay mind that wayyet."

Nor did Morgan settle her thougbts on herown concerns till compelled to do so. Therewas much to be thought of and accomplished;and it was the way of everybody to look to Mor-gan in all cases of bustle and difficulty. Thebusiness, shop, and house thereto belonging, wereimmediately disposed of; and they had to beprepared for the new tenant, and. vacated in ashort time. Jane would not sell the furniture;she could not find in her heart to let it go for solittle as it would now bring ; still less to give it toPatience. Her green stuff curtains, and thread-bare carpets, and battered tables, and shabby fire-irons, were all valuable in her eyes, because ofsome of these she had-known no others, and ofsome she still thought as new. How many re-currences of mind had she to these articles,--now reddening at the idea of the insulting pricethat was offered for them, and then sighing atthe thought of the extravagance of hiring a roomexpressly for their reception ! This last was theplan finally decided upon, however ; and, by dintof such close packing as nobody else would haveformed an idea of, the greater part of the lumberwas stowed, while there was still space left toturn round.

Everything was gone from the kitchen butone chair and a few cooking utensils when Mor-gan sat before tim fire, knitting worsted stock-rags, and rocking herself to the time of the old

F._aEWELL TO BUDGE-ROW. 121

Welsh air she was singing low to herself. Theclock that ticked was gone ; and the monotonoussinging of the kettle was the only sound besidesher own voice. She was thinking about Wales,as she always did when she sang,--of the farm-house in tile valley where she was born ; and of]low lightly she tripped to the spring the morningshe was told that ti_ere were thoughts of sendingher with her uncle, the carrier, to London to winher bread; aml thcn of tile evening when _heemerged from among the last hills, and saw theplain, with its clusters of trees, and its innume-rable hedge-rows, and its few hamlets, and achurch steeple or two, all glowing in the sunset ;and how she admired a fiat country, and fanciedhow happy people must be who lived in a fiatcountry; and then how little she imagined that,after having become familiar with London life,she should ever be sitting alone, seeing the com-fort of the abode demolished, day by day, andwaiting to know what should become of her whenthe last of the family she had served so long wasabout to wander away from the old house. Theclatter without went on just as if all was as for-merly within. The cries, the hustle, and the loudlaughs in the street seemed very like a mockery ;and Morgan, who had never, all these years,eomplained of the noise of Budge-Row, was verynearly being put out of temper about it this even-ing. In the midst of it, she thought she heardher mistress's hand-bell ring, and stopped herchanting to answer the summons. She releasedfrom its place under her gown the canvass bag,

1_ FARI_WELL TO nUDGE-ROW.

which must have proved a great burden to herright side, and carried the kettle in the otherhand, supposing, with the allowable freedom ofan old servant, that ]_liss Farter might be wish-ing for her tea a little earlier tban usual, and thatthere could be no harm in saving her turns alongthe passage.

" Ma'am, I'm afraid your rheumatism troublesyou," said she, seeing dlat Jane had drawn hershawl over her head. " I thought it would beso when you took the curtains down in sueh bitterweather/'

" Never mind that, Morgan: I must meetmore cold at'sea."

" But you had better get well first, ma'am.Wontd you _ish that I should step for Dr. Say/"and Morgan put some stiffness into her manner.

Jane looked round upon tile disfurnished apart-ment, and probably thought that it looked toocomfortless to be seen by Dr. Say; for she de-sired that if he called he should be told that she

was too tired to see any one." I think, Morgan," she proceeded, " there is

nothing left but what you can take care of forme, if I must go in a hurry. It will hardly takeyou two hours to stow these few things with therest of the filrniture; and an hour or two ofyour time, now and then, will keep them in goodorder for me."

And then follo_ved sundry directions aboutairing, dusting, brushing, &c., all which impliedthat Morgan would remain near at hand.

" I have said nothing about your going with

FAaEWELL TO BUDGE-ROW. 123

me," continued Jane. " I suppose you neverthought of it ?"

" I considered myself bound, Miss Jane, aherwhat we once said together, to follow you forlife, if you had so pleased. Since you do not "

" It would be too much for you, Morgan. Iwould not expose you to the risk, or to the fa-tiguc. You know nothing of tile fatigues ofsuch a voyage as I am going upon. Ill a regularvessel it l's very great ; but "

" Ma'am, I have no wish to go otherwise thanat your desire. I am old now, and "

" Yes, it will be much better for you to bewith Patience, or with Henry."

" No, ma'am ; if [ leave you, it must be to goback to my own place. The same day that youdismiss me I shall plan my way home. I do notwish to be turned over from service to service,knowing that I shall never attach myself to anyas I did, fi'om the first, to you, my dear."

" But what will you do with yourself in Wales?Everybody you knew there must be dead, orgrown up out of knowledge."

" Perhaps so ; but it will serve my turn to sitand knit by the farmhouse fire ; and I should like_o be doing something in a dairy again. I havenot put my hand to a churn, much less seen agoat, these seventeen years, except once, whenyour father sent me, in a hurry, to Islington, andthere, Miss, I saw a goat; and, for the life ofme, I could not help following it down a lane tosee where l_ went to, and to watch its habits°

Whca I saw it brow_ing and cropping, even

124 FAaEWELLTO BUDGE'ROW.

though it was in a brick-field, I could not helpstandin_ behind it ; and the thing led me snell around, I bad much ado to get home to tea. Mymaster found out that something had kept me ;but I was ashamed to tell him what it was.

However, our Welsh goats but I am takingup your time. Yes, I shall go back into Wales.But first, ma'am, there is a little thing to besettled. I gave up to you my key of that box,or [ would have put the money in without trou-bling you ; but here i_ the sum you paid me theother day, and I will trouble you for the receiptback again."

" What can you mean, Morgan, by demand-ing your wages so strangely, and then bringingthem back again ?"

" I meant to keep the promise I made to you,Miss Jane,--to cover your faults when I could.You refused to pay the fine for Mr. Henry, andso I paid it in your name; that was what Iwanted the money for. I did not think of hav-ing it back again; hut Mr. Henry seemed souneasy about not discharging it, that I let himtake his own way."

Jane made some objections, which Morganwould not listen to. She would neither suffer

any allusion to the legacy nor to her own cir-cumstances. She briefly declared that she hadenough. Her small wants were supplied fromthe savings of her young days, and she hadno further use for money, besides having takensomething of a disgust to it lately. She pos-sessed herself of the key from her mistress',

FAa_WELL 'to aUDaS-ROW. 1"25

side without being opposed, unlocked the boxbefore her face, :rod deposited the cash, showing,at tile same time, that she resumed the receipt.While sire _as doing this, Jane drew her shawlfarther over her head, as if she sufl'ered from thecold. Morgan saw that it was to conceal tier tears.

" Oil, _liss Jane! only say that you wish it,and [witl give up Wales al_d go witi_ you ; or ifyou would hut be content to go back to myhome, you might think about money as much asever, if you must, anti be happv at tiving in sucha cheap_country. But _ou might ttlere forgetall such troubtes to the u_ind, if _ou would."

Jane hastily observed that "it was too late

for this : she had given her word to sail, and shemust sail directly ; she could hear nothing to ritecontrary.

Morgan said no more, but brought tea, andprepared everything for her mistress's earlygoing to rest, and then came to take away thetea.things.

" You will make it early bed.time to-night,ma'am ?" said she.

Jane assented." Tlten I have a strong belie[" that this is the

last speech I shall have of you, Miss Jane ; amlI would not part from you without a farewell, asI fear others, nearer and dearer, must do."

" None are nearer and dearer," exclaimedJane, in a tone which upset Morgan's fortitude.She then checked herselL and coldly added, " Imean to call on my brother and Patience beforeI go."

_3

l_(_ FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW.

" What I am least sorry about," said Morgan," is, that you are going out upon the great andwide sea. I am glad that you will see a millionof dashin_ waves, anal feel'the sweepitlg winds,both of which I used to know somethiulz of fromthe top of our mountain. We have both seentoo much of brick walls, and heard too much ofthe noise of a city. Your spirits have failed yousadly of late, my dear ; and I myself have beenless lightsome than I have always held that atrusting creature should he. Ah ['your tears willdry up when you are among tile deeps ; and youwill find, as tim waters heave up and about you,how little worth is in all worldly care, take myword for it, mv dear. You on the sea bv star-light, and I in the valley when the earl_" budscome out--oh [ we shall grow into a more'whole-some mind than all the changes here have left usin. Meantime, we must part; and if we shouldnever meet again "

" Oh, but there is no fear: it is a very safevoyage, indeed, they tell me. I cannot have anyfancies put into my'head about not coming back,_lorgan."

" Well, let it he so then,--lL.t it he that youwill certainly come back; still I am old,--ay,not what you will allow to be oht, if you reachmy years, but what I like to think so. You can-not, in your heart, say that you would be takenby surprise any day to hear that old Morgan wasgone. Well, then, God bless you I and give youa better relish of this life before he calls you tanother !" •

FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW'. 127

" Indeed I am not happy," was the feelingexpressed by Jane's manner, and by her tears, asmuch as by her words. She could neither con-trol her feelings nor endure to expose their in-tensity, and she therefore hastened to bed, seem-ingly acquiescing in Morgan's advice not to bein a burry to rise in the morning.

Morgan's sleep was not very sound; partlyfrom the sense of discomfort in tile naked ]louse,and more from busy and anxious thoughts--suchas she had never known among the green hillsof Wales, and such as were hkely, she thereforesupposed, to be laid to rest when she should beat home a_ain. She fancied several times thatshe heard Jane stirring, and then dropped into adoze again, when she dreamed that her mistresswas sleeping very quietly. At last she startedup, uneasy at finding that it was broad daylight,and sorry that the alarmn had not been one of

the last things to be taken away, as she fearedthat her mistress might be kept waiting for herbreakfast. She hustled about, made a particu-larly good fire, ventured to take in, of her ownaccord, a tempting hot roll, and, as her mistresswas still not down stairs, made a basin of tea,and carried up the tray to the chamber.

" 1 hope you find your head better this morn-ing, ma'am ?" said she, drawing up the blindwhich kept the room in dalkness.

No answer. Morgan saw no traces of clothes,and hastily pulled aside the bed-curtain : no onewas there. A little farther search convinced herthat Jane was gone.

I_S FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW.

The people in tile shop testified to two stoutporters having arrive_l early, and asked permis-_ioa to go in and out through the shop. Theyha_t each carried a l_eavv box. a_d been accom-panied by the lady i_adeep black, _hose veil wasover hcf'face when she went out. She had not

go_ae without another word, as 5lor_an at first, ilxthe bitterness of her heart, reproached her lot doing.She had left a note, with an affectionate assuranceof remembering her old friend, not only in herwill. but during every day of iier life. Morganwould also find that a sum of money had beenleft in Henry's hands for her, as some acknow-ledgment of her long services. There was alsoadvice about purct_asing au annuity with it, whichMorgan did not read to-day.

Ti_e shop-boy had the benefit of the hot roll._,Iorgan set off to discover how much Mr. Henryknew of ,lane's proceedings. Marie could tellno more than that she had missed the bird oncoming down into the cheerful breakfast-room oftheir new lodgings. Their maid had admitted alady in black to write a note there this morning,as the family were not down. The bird had notbeen seen since; and it could only be supposedthat it was carried away in its cage under thelady's long black cloak.

Jane acknowledged this in her note to Henry.She could not resist carrying away this livi_grelic of old times. It must be more precious toher than to them; and she should send Mariefrom abroad some pet to be cherished for her_ake, if Marie cared enough tbr her to do st_

FARE_VELL TO BUDGE-ROW. ]_9

They had better not enqnire where she was gone,or |row; but trust to bearing of her throughM. Verblanc (when he should be again abroad)or his agents.

Patience seemed to be the only one who hadseen her sister, while thus scattering her ghostlyadicus. Patience related that the house was insuch confusion when Jane came in, (so unreason-ably early !) that she had no very clear recollec-tion of what had passed, further than that Janecried very much, so that the elder children didnot know wimt to make of it ; and that her blackveil frightened the little ones when she waskissing them all round. She hoped Jane did notreally mean that she was going away for anylength of time. She somehow had not halt"believed that; but as Morgan did believe it,Patience began at last to be very sorry indeed.

Morgan could not quit London these two orthree days, if she was to leave her mistress's littleconcerns in the exact order in which she desiredthem to remain. She would not be persuadedto pass her few days any where but in the oldkitchen, or to leave unvisited for a single nightthe chamber where her master died. This eveningwas cold and stormy. She thought first of hermistress's rheumatism ; and, as the wind rose,and whistled under the doors, and roared in thechimney, she wandered to the window to seehow things looked in the Row. The flame ofthe lamps flickered and flared within the glass;women held on their bonnets, and the aprons ofworkmen and the pinafores of children fluttered

130 FAREWELLTO RUDGE IIOW.

about. Morgan was but too sure that it mustbe a bad night on the river, or at sea. Shewished slit knew whether Mr. Henry thought so.This would have settled the matter with Morgan,for she believed Mr. Henry knew every thing ;but it was too late to intrude upon him to-night.She would go in the morning.

In the morning, when she got up early, toobserve the heavy clouds still drifting rapidlyover the narro_v slip of sky which was all thatcould be seen from even the back of the house,dae found a little bird cowering down on thewindow-sill, as if drowsy through fatigue andcold. There was no'mistaking the bird, and inanother moment it was warming itself againstMorgan's cheek and in her bosom, while thehand which was not employed in guarding it waspreparing its holiday mess of crumbs, milk andsugar.

" O, my bird !" exclaimed Marie, the momentMorgan produced it from beneath her red cloak.

" Did not my mistress say something to you,ma'am, of sending you some living thing for aremembrance ? Do you think it likely she shouldsend you this bird ?"

No: nobody thought it likely. But how thecreature could have escaped from such guardian-ship as Jane's was very unaccountable. Therewas no connecting it with the gales of last night ;yet Morgan could not forget her own wordsabout the wide and rough waters, and what Janewould feel when she saw them in their might.

While Marie was yet weeping over the

FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROV_o l_l

departure of her father, on the expiration of hismonth of imprisonment, and listening to herhusband's cheering assurances that peace mustcome, and with it, liberty for all to go to and fro,she said,

" Meanwhile, there may be comfort for youin hearing through him of Jane. Will she notBend us tidings, as she said ?"

No such intelligence came; and in M.Yerblanc's frequent letters was always containedthe assurance that no tidings of the estimablelady, the sister of his son-in-law, had reachedhis agent or himself.

Henry had been long settled down to his dutiesand enjoyments as a country clergyman, whenhe received a letter from Peek containing thefollowing intelligence, which was immediatelyforwarded to Morgan.

"I bad been applied to several times," Peekwrote, " about Jane Farrer, spinster, Ihe survivingclaimant of the tontine annuity last )'ear, onwhose behalf no claim has been made this year.You will see presently that government has hada lucky bargain of that annuity, which is morethan can often be said of that sort of transaction.The whole thing has come to light ; andPatiencewas in great distress about it, all yesterday. Wehave had a rare catch of smugglers ; and one ofthem let out, when he began to be chop-fallen,that it was very odd he had escaped such a manyrisks, to be trapped at last. Among the rest, hetold us of one surprising get off when he thoughthe was sent for to the bottom where all the rest

_0. FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW.

went. After awindy day, which had blown theirboat out of the river at a fine rate, till they werealmost within sight of their smuggling vessel,their cockle-shell could not stand the gale. Heswears that they should have done very well butfor the heavy chests that they were carrying for agentlewoman who wanted to be smuggled abroad.She was almost desperate when they heaved bothchests overboard, though she had been quietenough while the gale was rising. She wentdown quietly enough too, when the boat filled,and sunk from under them all, leaving such ascould to save theniselves on any tiling tbeycould find to float on; by which means he andone other only got to shore. All he remembersabout the gentlewoman is that she wore a blackcloak, and noticed nobody, more or less, but asiskin that she had with her in a cage. One ofthe last things she did,--and he remembers it bya joke that went round, of her earing about abrute creature's life when her own was not wortha farthing,--the last thing she did was lettingfly the bird, and she looked aftcr it, to see howit fared in the wind, when the water was up toher own knees. From the oddness of Ibis, andthe black eloak, we feel convinced it must have

been sister Jane, besides the date being the same.Patience fretted a good deal about it yesterday,as I mentioned. We suppose that we shall nowsee you in town about the affairs, and you knowwhere you may alwaya find a pipe and a bit ofchat."

" Do not go, Henry," said Marie. "Let

FAREWELL TO BUDGE-ROW. 1_3

Peek have all the weahb. Do not let us touchthat which has poisoned the lives of three of yourfamily."

'" It poisoned the peaee of their lives, Marie,and it caused their deaths. We will not die ofsueh solicitude, nor, if any of our children mustdie by violence or accident, shall it be for such acause. They must be taught the uses of wealth ;and fearfully has Providence qualified us forteaching this lesson."

"That wealth is but an instrument, and thatthey are responsible for the use of it _'

" Responsible, not only to Him who makethrich and maketh poor, but to soeiety,--to thestate. We will teach our children that to evade

or repine at their due contribution to the state isto be ungrateful to their best earthly protector, andto be the oppressors of those who should rather bespared in'proportion as their means are less. Ifto lay on burdens too heavy to be borne be onecrime, it is another to refuse a just burden."

Henry checked himself on perceiving that hewas reproaching the memory of his deceasedbrother and sister. He regarded them, however,as victims rather than aggressors,--vietims totheir father's false views, and to the policy of thetime, which, by making the state a spendthrift,rendered too many of its members sordid.

"This is the favourite that Jane sent me to becherished for her sake," said Marie, approachingthe bird. "It shall be cherished."

"I failed in my trust," thought Morgan, asshe went out to call home the kids from the

N

IS4 FAIIEW_LLTO BUDQE-ROW.

mountain,--" I failed in my trust when I doubtedabout Miss Jane's old age. What did 1 knowabout whether she would ever be old ; or, if sheshould be, _hether there would not by that timebe peace, and a less heavy burdening of thepeople, so that they might be free to see moreclearly whether or not they were made to strugglewith (ow things all their lives, hke a sick personin a dream who is always trying to fly, and is totever baffled ?--I don't "know _vhetber one oughtto be _orrv that Miss Jane has been wakened upuntimely _i'om such a dream ; but I mou_rn thatshe did not come here to see what a fearful

mistaking of I_rovldence it is to dream on in thatrestltss bed _hen here are such wide fields ofsweet thyme tbr one's eyes and one's heart to restupon. Let men live in cities, if' they will ; butwhy should they think that the fieMs and thebrooks are fbr th'o_e only _ho live among them ?These brooks must run over silver sands, andyonder harvest fields must bear ears of real goldbelbre men may fancy that gold is in favour withGo_t, and that it should therefore be sought as amain thing by men. I wish it had pleased Godthat Miss Jane had but once come here."

( 135 )

Summary of Principles illuslrt_ted in thisVolume.

All the members of a society who derive protectionfrom its government owe a certain proportion of the pro=duce (ff their labour o1'cap)tel to the support of that go.vel;nment,--that is, are justly liable' to be taxed.

The proportion contributed should be determined bythe degree of protection enjoyed,--of protection to pro-perty,--t'or all are per_ona!ly protected.

In other words, a just taxatiou must leave all themember_ of society in precisely _he same relatior_ iLLwhich it found them.

This equality of contribution is the first principle ofa just taxation.

Such equably can be secured only by a method ofdirect taxation.

Taxes on commodities are, from their very nature, un.equal, as the)" leave it in the choice of the rich man hovemuch he shall contribute to the support of the state ;while the man whose whole income must be spent in thepurchase of commodities has no such choice. This in.equality is aggravated by the necessity, in order to makethese taxes productive, of imposing them on necessariesmore than na iuxnlies.

Taxes on commodities are further injurious by entail-ing great expense for the prevention of smugghng, anda needless c(_t of collection.

They c_)uld not have been long tolerated but for theirquality of affording a convenient meth(M of tax-paying,and for the ignorance of the bulk of the people of theirinjurious operation.

The method of direct taxatlon which best securesequality is the imposition of a tax on income or on pro-perty.

There is so much difficulty in ascertaining to the ge.nero1 satisfaction tile relative values of incomes held on

different teaures_ and the necessary inquidtioa is so

]_ SU3IMARY.

odious,that if a tax on the source of incomes can be

proved equallyequitable,itispreferable,inasmuch as itnarrows the provinceof inquisition.

There is no reason tosuppose that an equitablegra-duation of a tax on invested capital is impracticable ;and as it would equally affect all incomes derived fromthis investment (that is, all incomes whatsoever), its ope-ration must be singqllarly impartial_ if the true principleof graduation be once attained.

A graduated property tax is free from all the evils be.longing to taxes on commodities ; w'hile it has not theirsingle recommendation--of favouring the subordinateconvenience of the tax-payer.

This last consideration will, however, become of lessimportance in proportion as the great body of tax-payersadvances towards that enlightened agreement which isessential to the establishment of a just system of taxa-tion.

The grossest violation of every just principle of taxa-ticn is the practice of burdening posterity by contract-ing permanent loans, of which the nation is to pay theinterest.

The next grossestviolationof justiceisthe transmit-

tingsuch an inheriteddebt uulessened to posterity,es-

peciallyasevery improvement inthe artsof lifefurnishesthe means of throwing offa portionof the nationalbur-dens.

The same rule ofmorals which requiresstate-economy

on behalf of the presentgeneration, requires,ou behalf

of future generations,that no effortshould be spared toliquidatethe National Debt.

THE END,

London : Printedby WXI,LIaUCLOWES,Duke-street,Lambeth.

THE

MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

t1¥

tlARRIET MARTINEAU.

LONDON :

CHARLES FOX, 67, PATERNOSTER-ROW.

1834.

CONTENTS,

PAOE

Introduction .......... 1

P h_tT I. _ PRODUCTION ....... 2

Large Farms ...... 21

-- Slavery ........ 27PART II.-- ].):STI_XBVTION ...... 32

---- Rent, _Vages, and Profits . . . 41

---- Combinations of Wo_.kmen 48

_ Pauperism ....... 62

-- Ireland ........ 74

---- Emigration ....... 76

PART III.-- ExcaANoz ....... 85

_ Currency ....... 88

Free Trade ....... 96

Corn Laws and Restrictions on La-

bour ........ 116

Paa'r IV.--Co_sv_rT1or: ..... 127

---- Taxes ........ 133

Concluaion .......... 140

PREFACE.

THE task which I originally proposed to myself isnow finished. I have done what I could to illus-

trate tile leading principles of Political Economy.But I cannot leave off without attempting some-thing more which I believe will improve the pur-pose of what I have already done. Now that

TAXATION is everywhere considered a subject ofdeep importanee,--attention having been called toit in a remarkable degree since my series was

planned,--I feel that my work is not completewithout a further illustration of the practice as wellas the principle of Taxation. In the present doubt-

ful state of our financial pdicy, the few Numberswhich I am about to issue may be expected to beof greater temporary, and of less permanent, in-terest than those which have preceded them. How-ever this may be, I believe myself called upon tooffer them, before laying aside my pen for a longinterval.

That I should be permitted to complete, withoutinterruption, my original plan of monthly publica-

vi PREFACE.

tion, for two years, was more than, in the uncer-tainty of human affairs and the inconsistency ofhuman projects, I ventured to anticipate with anydegree of assurance. This is not the place inwhich to express more than a mere acknowledg-ment of the fact. But I must be allowed to add

that so long a continuance of health and leisure

is less surprising to me than tile steadiness of ttlefavour by which my exertions have been supported.Unless I could explain how far my achievementshave fallen short of my aims, I could not expressmy sense of the patience with which the wise haveborne with my failures, and the ardour with which(for the sake of the science) they have stimulatedmy successes : while those who have done me thehonour of learning anything from me, have givenme a yet higher pleasure by their studious appreci-ation of my object. I know not that my friendsof either class can be better thanked than by theassurance, that while in their service I have not

experienced a single moment of discouragement orweariness about my task. I have been often con-scious of weakness, amounting to failure ; but Ihave never been disheartened. Long after mvslight elementary work shall have been (I trust)_uperseded, I shall, if I live, recur with quiet de-light to the time when it formed my chief oc'cupa-tion, and shall hope that the wide ti'ieudships which

PREFACE. V

it has originated will subsist when my little vo-lumes are forgotten.

It must be perfectly needless to explain what Iowe to preceding writers on the science of which Ihave treated. Such an acknowledgment couldonly accompany a pretension of my own to haveadded something to tlle science--a pretensionwhich I have never made. By dwelling, as I havebeen led to do, on their discoveries, I have become

too much awakened to tile glory to dream ofsharing the honour. Great men must have theirhewers of wood and drawers of water ; and scien-

tific discoverers must be followed by those who will

popularize their discoveries. When the woodmanfinds it necessary to explain that the forest is notof Iris planting, I may begin to particularize myobligations to Smith and Malthus, and others oftheir high order.

I proceed to my short remaining task nntired,and happy to delay, for a few months, the periodwhen I must bid my readers a temporary farewell.

H.M.

Febr_a,ry, 1834.

THE

MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

PART I.

MY many fables have all been melancholy. Thisis the fault which has been more frequently foundwith them than any other. Instead of disputingthe ground of complaint, or defending myself byan appeal to fact, I have always entreated theobjectors to wait and see if the moral of myfables be melancholy also. I have been sus-tained throughout by the conviction that it is not ;and I now proceed to exhibit the grounds of myconfidence.

Is it not true, however, that in the scienceunder review, as in every other department ofmoral science, we must enter through tribulationinto troth ? The discipline of the great familyof the earth is strictly analogous with that of thesmall household which is gathered under theroof of the wise parent. It is only by the expe-rience ccnsequent on the conscious or uncon-scious transgression of laws that the children ofeither family can fully ascertain the will of theRuler, and reach that conformity from whichalone can issue permanent harmony and progres-

25 B

2 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

s]ve happiness. What method, then, i8 sodirectfor one who would ascertain those laws, as to makea record of the transgressions and their conse-quences, in order to educe wise principles fromIoolish practices, permanent good from transientevil ? Whatever be the degree of failure, throughthe unskilfulness of the explorer, the method canscarcely be a faulty one, since it is that by whichall attainments of moral truth are made. CouldI, by any number of tales of people who have notsuffered under an unwise administration of socialaffairs, have shown that that administration wasunwise ? In as far as an administration is wise,there is no occasion to write about it ; for itstrue principles are already brought to a practicalrecognition, and nothing remains to be done.Would that we had more cheering tales of happysocieties than we have! They will abound intime ; but they wil| be told for other purposesthan that of proving the principles of a newscience.

Thus much in defence,_not of any tales, butof the venerable experimental method which isanswerable for their being sad.

To cure us of our sadness, however, let usreview the philosophy of Labour and Capital ;_the one the agent, the other the instrument of

PRODUCTION.

WZALTR consistsofsuch commoditiesas are

useful,_that is, necessar_ or agreeable to man-kind.

"_IOR£LOF MANYFABLES.

"Wealth is to be obtained bv the employment oflabour on materials furnished _JyNature.

As the materials of Nature appear to be incx-• haustible, and asthe supply oflabour is continually

progressive, no other hmits can be assigned to theoperations of labour than those of human intelli-gence.

Productive labour being a beneficial power, what-ever stimulates and directs this power is beneficialalso.

Many kinds of unproductive labour do this.Many kinds of unproductive labour are, therefore,beneficial.

All labour for which there is a Fair demand isequally respectable.

Labour being a beneficial power, all economy ofthat labour must be beneficial.

Labour is economized,I. By division of labour ; in three ways.

1. Men do best what they are accustomedto do.

2. Men do the most quickly work whichthey stick to.

3. It is a saving of time to have severalparts of a work going on at once.

Labour is economized,II, By the use of machinery, which

1. Eases man's labour.2. Shortens man's labour; and thus, _y

doing his work, sets him at liberty forother work.

Labour should be protected by securing its na-tural liberty ; that is,-

1. By _howing no partiality.2. By removing the effects of former partiality.

B2

4 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

CAPITAL iS something produced with aview toemployment in further production.

Labour is the origin, andSaving is the support, of capital.Capital consists of

1. Implements of labour.2. Material, simple or compound, on which

labour is employed.3. Subsistence of labourers.

Of these three parts, the first constitutes fixedcapital ; the second and third reproducible capital.

Since capital is derived from labour, whatevereconomizes labour assists the growth of capital.

Machinery economizes labour, and thereforeassists the growth of capital.

The growth of capital increases the demand forlabour.

Machinery, by assisting the growth of capital,therefore increases the demand for labour.

In other words, productive industry is propor-tioned to capital, whether that capital be fixed orreproducible.

Tim interests of the two classes of producers,labourers and capitalists, are therefore the same;the prosperity of both depending on the accumula-tion of CAPITAL.

Of that which is necessary and agTeeable tomankind, no measure can be taken ; the materials

being apparently inexhaustible, and the power ofappropriation incessantly progressive. There isnothing very melancholy in this ; and it is as true

as if it was the saddest proposition that ever wasmade. Is there any known commodity whichhas failed from off the earth when men desired to

retain it ? Is it not true of every commodity,

MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

that in proportion as men desire to have more ofit, its quantity is increased ? The desire promptsto the requisite labour ; and we know of no in-stance where the requisite labour has been uni-versally stopped for want of materials. TheNorwegians may want more wheat, and theKamtchatkadales will certainly wish for betterclothing by and by ; but we know that neithercorn nor broadcloth are failing, and that tile la-bour is already being multiplied, and tile accumu-lation of capital going on, which may, at length,supply both the one and the other party withwhat each needs. Even if every man, woman,and child should take a fancy for the scarcestproductions of nature,--for diamonds, perhaps,--we have no reason to suppose that there are not,or will not in time be, diamonds enough to sup-ply the human race ; and if diamonds inspired asvehement a desire,--/, e., were as necessary,--as daily bread, there would assuredly be no lackof the labour requisite to procure them.

Besides tile primary materials _'hich Nature¢asts forth from every cleft of the earth, and everycave of the sea,--which she makes to sproutunder every passing cloud, and expand beneathevery sunbeam, there are new and illimitableclasses of productions perpetually attainable bybrin_inz her forces to bear upon each other. Bysuct_ co_mbination, not only new materials, butfresh powers are discovered, which, in their turn,develop further resources, and confound ourimaginations with tile prospect of tile wealthwhich awaits man's reception. It is a great

n3

6 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

thing to possess improved breeds of animals inthe place of their forefathers,--the lean wildcattle with which our forefathers were content ;and to see golden corn-fields where coarse, sourgrasses once struggled scantily through a hardsoil: but it is a much greater thing to havemade even the little progress we have made inchemical and mechanical science ;--to havelearned how to change at will ttle qualities of thevery soil, and bring new agents to increase itsfertility and vary its productions ;--to havelearned to originate and perpetuate motion, andguide to purposes of production the winds ofheaven and the streams of earth ;--to have learnedhow to bind the subtlest fluids in the chains of

our servitude, and appoint their daily labour tothe flying vapours. Truly the Psalmist wouldscarcely have called man lower [than the angelsif he could have foreseen that such as thesewould in time be his slaves. While there wasnothing known but a spontaneous or compara-tively simple production,--while men reaped onlywhat Nature had sown, or sowed at random,trusting that Nature would bring forth the har-vest,--while there existed only the brute labourof the coral insect, or the barbaric labour whichreared the wall of China, and planted the pyra-mids, and scooped out the temples of Elora,there was assurance of incalculable wealth inthe bosom of Nature and in the sinews of men.

What is there not now, when a more philosophiclabour has won a kingdom from the ocean, andplanted a beacon in the region of storms, and

MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

made an iron pathway from steep to steep beforebridged only by clouds, and realized the oldimagery of vapoury _ings and steeds of fire,promising, not only lo ransack the sea and thetar corners of the earth for wealth which alreadyexists, but to produce more than had beenhitherto imagined ? There is nothing dark inthis prospect. What dimness there is, is in theeyes of some who look upon it.

It seems strange that any should quarrel withthis increase of wealth ;--that there should beany x_ish to leave off soliciting Nature, and anypreference of brute or barbaric over philosophiclabour. It seems strange that men should wishrather to go on working like the ass and tile ca-terpillar than to turn over such labour to bruteagents, and betake themselves to somethinghigher ;--that they had rather drag their loadsthrough the mire than speed them on a rail-road, and spin thread ui_on thread than see itdone for them a thousand times better than theycould do it themselves. It seems strange thatthese objections should proceed from those whomost need a larger share of the offered wealth.There are honourable ways of refusing wealthand power, but this is assuredly not one efthem. If there be reasons wily man should he-sitate to accept large gifts from his fellow-men,there can be none for his declining the bounty ofProvidence.

The reason why some men do not like to hearof the opening up of new sources of wealth andfresh powers of industry is, that they believe

8 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

that whatsoever is given to the race is takenfrom certain individuals ; and that they had ratherthat all "should suffer privation than that theythenaselves should undergo loss. The mentionof lighting London streets with gas was hateihlto certain persons connected with the northernfisheries, as it would lessen the demand for oil.They would have had all future generationsgrope in darkness rather than that their own spe-culations should suffer. In like maauer, anincreased importation of pahn oil was a greatblessing to the African date-gatherers, and willprove no less to tile British public ; butthis puregood was at first regarded as a great evil by afew soap-manufacturers, who hoped to have beenable to keep up the price of their commodity bycontrolling the supply of its component mate-rials; and for tile same reasons, the same per-sons sighed over tile removal of tbe salt-duty.Perhaps no improvement of human resourcesever took place without being greeted by somesuch thankless murmurs as these ; and, too pro-bably, it wilt be long before such murmurs willbe perceived to be thankless, though happily ex-perience proves that they are useless.

While there are human wants, there will be noend to discoveries and improvements. Till allare supplied with soap, or something better thansoap, there will be more and more palm oil, anda further cheapening of alkalies. Tile soap-manufacturers must not comfort themselves with

the hope that they can stop tile supplies, butwith the certainty that die more soap there is,

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 9

the more users of soap there will be ; and thattheir business will extend and prosper in propor-tion as there are more clean faces among cottagechildren, and more wholesome raiment amongthe lower classes of our towns. Since it is vain

to think of persuading the poor l_.ative of Fer-nando Po to refrain from gathering his dateswhen he has once learned that tt,ere are thou-

sands of" British who demand them, the onlything to be done is to speed the new commerce,and welcome the reciprocation of behests.

Thus is it also with improvements in art. Therace cannot submit to permanent privation forthe sake of the temporary profits of individuals ;and so it has been ibund by such short-sightedi_ldividuals, as often as they have attempted tocheck the progress of art. No bridge was evervet delayed in the building for the sake of theneighbouring ferryman; and no one will saythat it ought to have been so delayed. Whenit comes to be a question whether drivers anddrovers, carriers and pedlars, shopkeepers, farm-ers, and market-people shall be inconvenienced orexcluded, or one man be compelled to carry hislabour elsewhere, few will hesitate on the deci-sion ; and the case would be no less clear if amachine were invented to-morrow for turning outhandsome stone houses at the rate of six in a day.There would be great suffering among brick-layers and builders for a time : but it would notbe the less right that society should be furnishedwith abundance of airy dwellings at a cheap rate ;and the new wants which would arise out of such

]0 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

an inveution, and the funds set free by it, wouldsoon provide bricklayers and builders, and theirchildren after them, with other employment in ad-ministering to other wants. From huts of boughsto hovels of clay was an advance which calledmore labour into action, though the weavers oftwigs might not like to be obliged to turn theirskill to the making of fences instead of huts.Prom hovels of clay to cottages of brick was afurther step still, as, in addition to the brick-makers, there must be carpenters aud glaziers.From cottages of brick to houses of stone wasa yet greater advance, as there must be masons,sawyers, painters, upholsterers, ironmongers,cabinetmakers, and all their train of workmen.So far, the advance has been made by means ofan accumulation of capital, and a division oflabour, each dwelling requiring an ampler finish-ing than the last, and a wider variety as well asa larger amount of labour. If, by a stupendousinvention, ready-made mansions should succeed,to be had at half the cost, the other half of thepresent cost would remain to be given for a yetampler furnishing, or for providing conservato-ries, or hanging gardens, or museums, or what-ever else might have become matters of taste:while the poor would remove into the vacatedbrick-houses, and the cottages be left to beinhabited by cows, and the cowsheds, perhaps,by pigs, and the 13igsties be demolished ; and sothere would be a general advance, every onebeing a gainer in the end.

Perhaps a few people were ver_" well content,

MORAL OF I_IANY FABLES. l_

once upon a time, with t'ne|r occupation ofwading in the ponds and ditches of Egypt, togather the papyrus, and with pressing and dry-ing the leaves, and glueing them crosswise, andpolishing them for the style with which they wereto be written upon: and these people mightthink it very hard that any better paper shouldever be used to tile exclusion of theirs. Yet

wide-spreadillg generations of their children arerow employed in the single department of pro-viding the gums and oils required in the compo-sition of the inks which would never have beenknown if papyrus had been used at this day. Ifwe consider the labour employed in the other de-partments of inkmaking, and in the preparationof the rags of which paper is made, and in tilemaking and working of the mills from which thebeautifid substance issues as if created by invi-sible hands, and in packing, carrying, and sellingthe quires and reams, and in printing them, andiu constructing and managing the stupendousmachinery by which this part of the process iscarried on, we shall be quite willing to leave thepapyrus to be the home of the dragon-fly, as be-_orethe art of writing was known. Saying no-thing of the effects of tile enlarged communica-tion of minds by means of paper, looking onlyto the amount of labour employed, who will now1Pleadthe cause of the papyrus-gatherers againstthe world ?

A distinction is, however, made by those whocomplain of human labour being superseded,between a new provision of materi_l, and a

12 _aoahs OF MANYVABI,_S.

change in the method of working it up. Theyallow that, as rags make better writing materialthan papyrus, rags should be used ; but contendthat if men can dip sieves of the pulp of ragsinto water, and press the substance between felt,it is a sin to employ a cylinder of wire and a me-chanical press to do the same. But this distinc-tion is merely imaginary. If we could employ aman to sow rags aud reap paper, we should thinkit a prodigious waste of time and pains to getpaper in the old method; and we do sow ragsin the cistern and reap paper from the cylinder ;the only difference being, that instead of dew_e use spring water, and iron wheels instead oftim plough and barrow, and artificial heat insteadof sunshine. We might as well wish to keep ouragricultural labourers busy all the 3'ear trying tomanufacture wheat in our farm-house kitchensas recur to the old method's of making paper;and tl.'e consumers of bread and of books wouldfall off in numbers alike in either case.

Instances without end might be adduced toprove the inevitable progress of art and extensionof wealth ; and they might not be useless, sincethere is still a strong prevailing prejudice againsttim beneficent process by which the happiness ofthe greatest number is incessantly promoted, anda remarkable blindness as to the tendency andissues of the ordination by which an economy oflabour is made at the same time the inevitable

result of circumstances, and the necessary condi-tion of increased happiness. But though thetime already spent upon a subject not new may

MORAL OF ]_IANY FABLES. 13

be no more than its importance demands, myremaining space may be better employed in asketch of the spread of one ingredient of humancomfort than in the mere mention of a variety ofsimilar cases. The instance I ]lave chosen is

one where tile advance has been wholly owing toimprovement in the use of a material which seemsto have always abounded.

There is no record of a time when there werenot goats and sheep enough to supply clothingto the keepers of the herds, or when their fleeceswere not used for this purpose in some parts ofthe world. While the barbarians of tile northdressed themselves in skins, tlle inhabitants oftemperate regions seem to have enjoyed theunited lightness and warmth of fabrics of wool.The patriarchs of Asia gathered their flocksabout their tents in the earliest days of whichhistory tells; and it was the recorded task oftheir slaves to wash ttle fleeces, and of theirwives to appoint the spinning of the wool to themaidens of their train. The Arabian damselscarried with them their primitive looms whereverthey journeyed ; and set up their forked sticks intile sand when they stopped for the night, andfixed the warp and wrought the woof before thesun went down. The most ancient of Egyptianmummies has its woven bandages. In the mostremote traffic of the Tartar tribes fleeces were a

medium of exchange; and the distaff is foundamong the imagery of even the earliest Scandina-vian poetry. When the Romans, skilled in thechoice of fabrics and of dycs_ came over to this

C

14 _IORAL OF M&NY F.'_BLES.

island, they taught its barbarian dames to leaveoff' rubbin_ wolf-skins with stones to make themsmooth, and dipping them in water to make themsoft, and put into their bands the distaff', whichwas to be found in every home of the Roman

dependencies, and instructed them in the use of amore convenient loom than that of the Arabianwanderers. For several hundred years it seemsthat this remained a purely domestic manufacture ;but, as the arts of life ilJ_proved, it became worthwhile for the housewiw_s to relax in their spinninffand weaving, and exchange the products of theirown or thmr huabands' labour tbr the cloth ofthe manufacturers. There was better cloth ia

Flanders, however, by the begimaing of thethirteenth eenturv; an;[ it was found profitable toweave less, and grow more wool for exportation.The British dames might still carry thmr spindleswhen they went out to look for their pet lambson the downs, but it was less with a view tobroad cloths than to hose,_not knitted, forknitting was unknown, but made of a ruder kindof cloth. There were abundance of English Maowould have been very glad of the occupation ofweaving fine cloth which the Flemings had nowall to themselves; but they could not obtain ittill they. had adopted and aeeustmned themselvesto the improved methods of the Flemings ; andas they were slow in doing this, they were assistedby E_tward III., who invited over Flemishmanufacturers, to teach these improved methods.Having brought them over, the next step neces-sary was to guard their lives from their English

MOR_LOF MANYFABLE_. 15

pupils, who would not hear of spinning by wheel,because the wheel did twice as much work as thedistaff; or ofx_inding the yarn and arranging thewarp and woof' otherwise than by tile fingers,because many fingers wanted to be employed;or of using new drugs lest the old drug-istsshould be superseded, or of fulling by ally othermeans than treading the cloth ill water. If itbad not been that the King was more long-sighted than his people, these Flemings wouldhave been torn to pieces, or, at best, sent, homei'a a panic ; and the English wuuld have lost tlmwoollen manufacture tbr many a year, or forever.

_'oolten cloth was very dear in those days. Inthe fourth ",'ear of tlenrv VII., it was ordered bylaw what should be the highest price given peryard for "a broad yard of the finest scarletgrained, or of other grainetl cloth of the finestmaking ; "_viz., as much labour and subsistenceas could be exchanged for 61. 16s. of our presentnloney. Now, there could not be anyvery largenumber of customers in England at that timewho could aflbrd to pay 6l. 16,. per yard tbr finecloth, even if they had not bad the temptation ofgetting it cheal_er and better from Flanders.The manufacture must have been a very triflingone. and there must have been a sad number ofsufferers from col,1 and damp, who, in those daysof ill-built and Ill-furnished houses, would havebeen very glad of the woollen clothing which nonebut the very rich could obtain. If their rulershad alto;_ed _hem to get it cheaper and better

c2

16 mORAt. OF MANY FABLE_.

from Flanders, the home manufacture would havebeen thereby stimulated, extended, and improved ;but, under the idea+of protecting the Englishmanufacture, it was made a punishable offence tobuy cloth woven by any but Englishmen, and tosend wool out of tile kingdom. Laws like these(and there were many such during malay reigns)did ._ll that could be done for keeping themanufacture in few hands, and preventing thespread of this great article of comtbrt : but naturewas tao _,trong for governments ; and it was shownthat while there were flocks on the hills, andsickly people shivering in the damps of thevalleys, no human power could prevent theirstriving to have garments of wool for the day andcoverlets of wool for the night. In the remotecountry places of Yorkshire, the people began toencourage one another in spreading the manu-facture, to the great discomfiture of the weaversof York, who dreaded nothing so much as thatthe fabric should become cheaper and commoner.Henry VIII. declared that York had been up-held, and should be upheld, by this exclusivemanufacture ; that Worcester alone should sup-ply its county and neighbourhood, and thatworsted yarn was the private commodity of thecity of Norwich : but Henry VIII. spoke in vain.As long as there were streams among the York-shire hills where fulling-mills could be worked,the people of York might go on treading withthe feet, and offering inferior cloth at a higherprice ; the people would not have it. The clothfrom the fulling mills, and the engine-wound

MORALOF MANY FABLES. ].7

yarn, were sold as fast as they could be prepared,and the men of York and Norwich were obliged touse fulling mills and winding maebinery, or giveup their trade. They submitted, and sold morecloth than ever, and gained more as their fabricbecame cheaper and commoner. Queen Eliza-beth allowed wool to be freely carried out of thekingdom ; and the prosperity of the manufactureincreased wonderfidtv in consequence. ._Iorewool was grown, anal there was inducement totake pains _itb its quality. Not only did thegentlemen of the court delight themselves in thesuperior filaeness of their scarlet and purple stuffs,but many a little maiden in farmhouse or cottagerejoiced in a Christmas present of a substantialpetticoat of serge or cloak of kersey.

Tile more was wanted, the further inducementthere was to make a greater quantity with thesame capital; in other words, to abridge thelabour: and then followed improvement uponimprovement in the machinery employed, whichagain extended the demand and caused morelabour to be employed. The being able to getmore cloth for less money served as a far betterencouragement of the manufacture than Charlesthe Second's taw that all the dead should be buried

in woollen shrouds. From this time, nothing couldstop the spread of et,mfoaable clothing. Eventhe cotton manufacture,_the most prodigiousaddition to national resources that ever arose,-proved a pure addition. Society has not wornthe less wool for it, but only the more cotton.How stands the ease now ?

c3

18 _OaAL OF MANY FABLES.

The value of the woollen manufactured article_of Great Britain alone now exceeds 20,(100,000/.a year; and the manufacture employs 500,000persons :--and these, not spinning and weaving,with all imaginable awkwardness and toil, justenough for their own families, but producingwifll rapidity and ease finished fabrics with whichto supply not only the multitudes of their owncountry, but the Russian boors in their winterdwellings, the Greek maidens on the shores oftheir islands, the boatmen of the Nile, tile dancinggirls of Ceylon, the negro slaves of Jamaica, thefi_hermen of Java and tile peasantry of Hayti, thesunburnt Peruvian when he goes out defendedagainst the chilly dews of the evening, and tilehalf-frozen Siberian when he ventures to face tile

icy wind for the sake of the faint gleams of noon.Our looms and mills are at work in Prussianvillages and beside Saxon streams. The Turkmeets the Frank on the Oder, to exchange theluxuries of the one for the comforts of the other.The merchants of the world meet at the great fairof Leipsie, and thence drop the fabrics ofEuropean looms in every region through whichthey pass. There are shepherds on the wideplains of Van Diemen's Land, and on the hills ofthe Western World, preparing employment andcustom for the operative who sits at his loom atLeeds, and the spinner who little dreams fromwhat remote parts gain will come to him atBradford. And the market is only beginning tobe opened yet. Besides the multitudes still toarise in the countries just named, there are

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 19

innumerable tribes of Chinese, of Hindoos, ofPersians, of dwellers in Africa and SouthAmeriea,who yet have to learn the" comfort of woollenclothing. Will not the Greenlanders seek it too ?And who needs it so much as the Esquimaux._All these will in time be customers, if we do butpermit the commodity to be brought naturallywithin their reach.

Would it have been right that all these shouldbe sacrificed to the wishes of the little companyof spinners by hand and treaders with the feet ?Would not that little company and their children'schildren have been sacrificed at the same time ?

In all other instances of the introduction of

machinery, as in this, the interests of masters andmen are identical. To make more with tess cost

is the true policy of the one, in order that it maybring the advantage of obtaining more with lesscost to the other. That is, the utmost economyof labour and capital should be the common aimof both.

A real cause of regret is that the invention ofmachinery has not yet advanced far enough.This is an evil which is sure to be remedied as

time passes on ; and perhaps the advance hasbeen as rapid as has been consistent with thesafety of society. But as long as there arepurely mechanical employments which shortenlife and stunt the intellect, we may be sure thatman has not risen to his due rank in tile scale of

occupation, and that he is doing the work ofbrute matter. As long as the sharpener ofneedles bends coughing over his work, and young

20 MORAL OF MANYF,_BLES.

children grow puny amidst the heated atmosphereof spinning factories, and the life of any humanbeing is passed in deep places where God's sun-shine never reaches, and others grope with thehands after one servile task in a state of mentaldarkness, we may be sure that we have notdiscovered all the means and applied all thepowers which are placed within our reach. It isnecessary that steel shouht be ground; but theday will come when it shall be a marvel that mendied to furnish society with sharp needles. It isnecessary that cotton threads should be tied asthey break ; but it cannot for ever be that lifoshould"be made a long disease, and the spirit bepermitted to tie down in darkness in the grave forsuch a purpose as this. If society understood itstrue interest, alt its members would unite to hastenthe time when there shall be no unskilled labourappointed to human hands. It is far nobler tosuperintend an engine than to be an engine; andwhen all experience proves that a hundred suchsuperintendents are wanted in the place of one ofthe ancient human instruments, it appears trulywonderful that men should resist a progressionwhichat once increases the comforts of multitudes,ensures the future prosperity of multitudes more,and enhances the dignity of man by making himthe master of physical tbrces instead of the slaveof his fellow man.

Next to providing for the increase of Capitalby direct saving, and by economy of the lal)ourwhich is the source of capital, it is important toeconomize capital in its application. One principle

MORAL OF MA_Y FABLES. _1

of this economy,--that capital is most productivewhen applied in large quantities to largeobjects,--is illustrated bv the comparative rcsultsof large and small farmi_lg.

PRonvcTIoN being the great end in the employ-ment of labour and capital, that application of bothwhich secures the largest production Is the best.

Large capitals, well managed, produce in a largerproportion than small.

In its application to land, for instance, a largecapital employs new powers of production,--as illthe cultivat_ol_ of wastes ;- - - enables its owner t'./wait for ample but distant

returns,--as in planting;- - - facilitates the division of labour ;..... the succession of crops, or division of

time ;..... reproduction, by economizing the invest-

ment of fixed capital ;..... the economy of convertible husbandry ;..... the improvement of soils by manming,

irrigation, &c. ;.... the improvement of implements of hus-

bandry ;..... the improvement of breeds of live stock.

Large capitals also providefor the prevention of famine, by furnishing a

variety of food; and for the regular supplyof the market, by enabling capitalists to waitfor their returns.

Large capitals, therefore, are preferable to anequal aggregate amount of small capitals, for tworeasons, riz: :

they oceadon a large production in proportion ;

_'2 MOaALoF _AN'/ F_BLES.

and they promote, by means peculiar tothemselves, the general safety and con-venience.

Capitals may, however, be too large. They areso when they become disproportioned to the manag-ing power.

The interest of capitalists best determines tileextent of capital ; and any interference of the lawis, therefore, unnee2s_ary.

The interference of tile law is injurious ; as maybe seen by the tendency of the law of Succession inFrance to divide properties too far, and of the law ofPrimogeniture in England to consolidate, them t,3oextensively.

The increase of agricultural capital provides afund for the employment of manufacturing andcommercial, as well as agricultural, labour.

The interests of the manufacturin_ and agricul-tural classes are therefore not opposed to each other,but closely alhed.

The same principle applies, of course, in allcases where an extensive production is the object,and points oat the utility of associations ofcapitalists for many of the higher aims o[ humanindustry. A union of capitals is perhaps asexcellent an expedient as a division of labour,and will probably be universally so consideredere long. If it be an advantageous aylrecmentfor six cabinet-makers that two shouht saw the

wood for a table, and one square it, and anotherturn the legs, and a fifth put it together, and thesixth polish it, one set instead of six of each kindof tool being made to auttice, it ia no less obvious

I_IORAI,OF MANY FABLES. _3

that six owners of' so many fields will also gainby uniting their forees,--by making one set offarm-bui!dings suffice, by using fewer and betterimplements, and securing a wider range for avariety of crops and for the management of theirlive stock. In like manner, twenty fishermen,instead of having twenty cockle-shell boats amongthem, in which no one can weather a stormynight, may find prodigious gain in giving uptheir little boats for one or two substantial vessels,

in which they may make a wide excursion, andbring home an anaple prey to divide amongthem. This is the principle of mining associa-tions, ancl of fishing and commercial companies ;and it might ere this ha_ e become the principle ofall extensive undertakings for purposes ofproduction, if some of the evils winch crowdround the early operations of good principles hadnot been in thmr usual punctual attendance.Such associations have led to monopoly, and havebeen injured by wastefulness in the managementof their affairs. But the evils savour ofbarbarism, while fl_e principle is one of highcivilization. The evils are easily remediable andwill certainly be remedied, while the principlecannot be overthrown.

Many, however, _ho do not dispute the prin-ciple, object to its application in particular cases,on moral grounds. They say " Le_ there be min-ing companies, for not one man in a million isrich enough to work _ mine by himself; but letthe race of little farmers be preserved, for wehav_ seen that one man, though not rich, may

_4 bfOR.%L OF MANY FABLES.

cultivate his little farm ;" and then follow praises,not undeserved in their season, of tile positionand occupation of the small farmer, and lamen-tations, but too well-founded, over the conditionof agricultural labourers at the present time.

The question is, can the race of small farmersbe revived? It cannot. The question is notnow, as it was when the country was nnderpeo-pied, and the nation comparatively unburdened,whether the labouring class cannot be kept moreinnocent when scattered in the service of smallproprietors than when banded in companies asnow; or whether the small proprietor was nothappier as a complacent owner than as a hum-bled labourer? The days are past when thismight be a question. The days are past of ani-mal satisfaction and rural innocence in a ram-

bling old farm-house. The days of a competitionfor bread are come, and rural innocence has fledaway under the competition ;--to give place tosomething better, no doubt, when the troubledstage of transition is passed,pbut, still, not tobe recalled. A very small capital stands nochance when the tax-gatherer is at the farmer'sheels, and the pressing cry for bread can be':metonly by practising new, and more costly, andmore extensive methods of tillage every day. Thepartial tax-gatherers may and will be got rid of;but the land will not again be underpeopled, andtherefore tillage will not revert to the ancientmethods, nor fields be held under the ancienttenure. Production is now the great aim ; andunless small farming can be shown to be more

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. _

productive than large, small farming must cometo an end, unless in cases where it is pursued foramusement. Whenever the oak shall be per-suaded to draw back its suckers into the ground,whenever the whole of the making of each pinshall be done by one hand, tlle old system offarming may be revived. Then an ounce of pinsmust serve a city, and a loaf amonth must sufficefor a household ; and if corn is brought in fromabroad to supply tile deficiency, the home farmermust be immediately ruined by tile dearness ofhis own corn in comparison with that which isgrown in far places. Large capitalists can alonebear up against taxation and protection, at pre-sent; and large capitalists alone can stand thecompetition when freedom of trade in corn shallat length be obtained. Since the time for acountry being underpeopled must cease, and themost extensive production must then become fora period the chief object, nothing can be plainerthan that it has been settled, from the beginningof time, that small farming capitals must mergein large. It is not our present business to in-quire what state of things will next succeed.

Let us not leave the topic, however, under animpression that the state we are passing throughis one of unmixed gloom and perplexity. Ouragricultural population is in a very deplorablecondition,--ill-fed, untaught, and driven by hard-ship to the very verge of rebellion; but theseevils are caused by the inadequateness of ancientmethods, and not by the trial of new ones. Morefood and other comforts must be found for them,

n

26 _oRAr, oF _A_Y FAB_E_.

and they must be instructed not to increase thepressure upon the supply of food. In tile meantime, it is a decided gain to have discovered andto be discovering methods of securing a greaterproduction at a less cost. If such discoveries goon, (and go on they must,) and our agriculturalpopulation grows wiser by instruction and expe-rience as to tile means of living, independenceof spirit and of action will revive, (though therebe no small farms,) virtue may take tile place ofmere innocence, and bands of labourers may beas good and happy in their cottages as ever far-mer and his servants were when collected in thefarm-house kitchen. They may meet in churchas efficaciously when the bell calls them eachfrom his own home, as when they walked, manyat the heels of one. In one essential respect,there is a probability of a grand improvement ontile good old times. In those times, the farmer'seldest son too often followed the plough with littlemore sense of what was about him tban tile tillerhe held. His much boasted innocence neither

opened his eyes to the lights of heaven nor glad-dened his heart amidst ttle vegetation which he re-sembled much more than he admired. Hereafter,the youngest child of the meanest servant of tilefarm will look and listen among God's workswith the intellectual eye and ear, with which theenlightened mechanic already explores the widely-different field in which he is placed. Whence-soever came the demon breath which kindled our

farm-yard fires, they have flashed wisdom on theminds of our ruler_ and are lighti, g tho labourer't(

MORAL OF MANV FABLES. _7

path to knowledge. The evil, though deplorable,is calculable and remediable. Who shall esti-mate the approaching good ?

There is in mv Series one other chapter ofprinciI,les, under ttm head of PRODUCTION. Thetime for its insertion in this place is past; and,on the principle of " forgetting those thingswhich are behind," I should have omitted allallusion to it, if the 1N'umber I "am writing hadbeen destined to circulate only in this country.But a large proportion of my readers are of anation which has not vet absolved itself from the

tremendous sin of hoisting man as property. Oftile difficulties in the way of such absolution, itis for them, not for me, to speak. My businessis with principles. Those which have obtainedmy assent are offered in the subjoined note, andhumbly commended to nay foreign readers.* The

* PROPERTY is held by conventional, not natu-ral, right.

As the agreement to hold man in property nevertook place between the parties concerned, i. e., is notconventional, man has no right to hold man inproperty.

LAw, i. e., the sanctioned agreement of the partiesconcerned, secures property,

Where one of the parties under tile law is heldas property by another party, the law injures theone or the otheras often as they aro opposed. More-

I) 2

28 _IORAL OF ,MANY FABLES.

summary is placed there because I wish to in°troduce into the body of my text nothing which

over, its very protection injure_ the protected party :as when a rebellious slave is hanged.

Human labour is more valuable than brute la-bour, only because actuated by reason ; for hmnanstrength is inferior to brute strength.

The origin of labour, human and brute, is thewill.

The rea_an of slaves is not subjected to exercise,nor their will to more than a tbw weak mohves.

The labour of slaves is therefore less valuable thanthat of brutes, inasmuch as their strength is infe-rior ; and less valuable than that of free labourers,inasmuch as their reason and will are feeble andalienated.

Free and slave labour are equally owned by thecapitalist.

When the labourer is not held as eapital, the ca-pitalist pays for labour only.

When the labourer is hehl as capital, the capita-list not only pays a much higher price for an equalquantity of labour, but also tbr waste, negligence,and theft, on the .part of the laboul_er.

Capital is thus sunk which ought to be repro-duced.

As the supply of slave labour does not rise andfall with the wants of the capitalist, like that of freelabour, he employs his occasional surplus on workswhich could be better done by brute labour or ma-chinery.

By rejecting brute labour, he refuses facilities forconvertible husbandry, and for improving the labourof his slaves by giving them animal food.

By

MORAL OF I_IANYFABLES. _9

is irrelevant to the state and prospects of Britishsociety. A stronger acknowledgment than this

By n:iecting machinery, he declines the mo_tdirect and complete method of saving labour.

Thus, again, capital is sunk which ought to bereproduced.

In order to make up for this loss of capital toslave-owners, bounties and prohibitions are grantedin their behalf by goverml, ent ; the waste commit-ted by certain capitalists abroad being thus paid lbrout of the earnings of those at home.

Sugar being the production especially protected,every thing is sacrificed by planters to the growthof sugar. The land is exhausted by perpetual crop-ping, the least possible portion of it is tilled for food,the slaves are worn out by overwork, and their num-bers decrease in proportion to the scantiness of theirtbod and the oppressiveness of their toil.

When the soil is so far exhausted as to place theowner out of' reach of tbe sugar-bounties, more foodis raised, less toil is. inflmted, and the slave popula-tion increases.

Legislative protection, therefore, not only taxesthe people at home, but promotes ruin, misery, anddeath, in the protected colonies.

A free trade in sugar would banish slavery alto-gether, since competition must induce an economyof labour and capital ; i.e., a substitution of free ibrslave labour.

Let us see then what is the responsibility of thelegislature in this matter.

The slave system inflicts an incalculable amountof human suffering, for the sake of making a whole-sale waste of labour and capital.

Since the slave system is only supported by legis-lative protection, the legislature is responsible for

D3

30 MOR£L OF MANY FABLES.

of the blessedness of our penitent state, it is notin my power to make,--or I would make it. Itmay be that for centuries we may have to witnesstile remaining sufferings and degradation of thosewhom we have injured, and perhaps even vet tobear many painful consequences of our" longtransgression against tlle rights of man. But theweight of guilt is thrown off, the act of confes-sion is made, and that of atonement is about tofollow ; and all the rest may well he borne.

The next duty to reparation for injury is silenceupon the sin : there is contamination in the con-templation of every indulged sin, even when theindulgence is past. Such a sin as this should beto a nation what an act of shame is to an indivi-duat--a remembrance to be strenuously banished,lest it weaken the energy which should press for-ward to better things. This should be one ofthe secrets known to all--a circumstance plungedin significant oblivion, like that in which the his*torians of the Jews have striven to bury the eventof the crucifixion. May the consequences in thetwo cases, however, be as widely different aspenitent and impenitent shame! The wonder ofsucceeding ages at our guilt must be endured ;but it will not, let us hope, be made a by-wordof reproach against us for ever. When l_indrednations shall have been induced to share ouremancipation, rebuke and recrimination may

the miser)-caused by direct infliction, and for theinjury indirectly occasioned by the waste of labourand. capital.

I_IORALOF _IANYFABLES. 31

cease ; the dead will have buried their dead, andthe silence of the grave will rest upon them. Ifwe now do our duty fully to those whom we haveinjured, even they may, perhaps, spare us allfuture mention of their wrongs. Meantime, it isan unspeakable blessing that, ignorant and un-just as we may still be in the distribution ofthe wealth which Providence gives us, there isnow no crying sin connected with the methodsof its production ; no national remorse need nowsilence our acknowledgments of the bounty bywhich the gratification of human wishes is des-tined to advance, according to a law of perpetualprogression.

(3"2)

PART II.

I_ the early days of society, it is natural enoughfor mcn to take what they can find or make, with-out giving themselves any trouble abouL ana-lyzing their wealth, or philosophizing about itsdistribution. When, however, tim desires ofsome begin to interfere wiLh those of others,and production does not, in particular instances,abound as was expected, and sudden and mani-fold claims for a provision arise, and can wittldifficulty be met, men necessarily begin, howeverlate, to examine their resources, and investigatethe demands upon them. Only very remote ap-proaches to a true analysis may be made at first ;and the consequences of a hundred perniciousmistakes must probably be borne before anything like a fair distribution can be so much asconceived of. But time and experience are cer-tain to originate the conception, as is proved bythe rise of the science of Political Economy ;and there is every reason to believe that timeand experience will exalt the conception intoaction, and lead to a wise application of thesplendid apparatus of human happiness whichhas been confided to the hands of society. Everymistake has hitherto issued in the furtherance of

this end, according to the uniform plan underwhich the affairs of men are administered. It

_OnAL oF _rANY FABLES. 33

has been discovered that the race cannot live

upon labour without its reward, and that to benumerous is not of itself to be happy ; and thereis a relaxation of effort to force the multiplica-tion of tile race. It has been discovered thatland of itself is not wealth, and that our condi-tion would be deplorable if it were so: since landdoes not improve of itself, but deteriorates as therace which subsists upon it is multiplied. It isdiscovered that money is not wealth; that thetenants of different localities do not flourish at

one another's expense; and that wealth cannotbe distributed according to the arbitrary pleasureof rulers. Many other ancient convictions arenow found to be delusions ; and, what is betterstill, the grand principles are fully establishedwhich may serve as a key to all the mysteriesrelating to the distribution of wealth. Their ap-plication may require much time and patience;but we have them safe. Their final general adop-tion may be regarded as certain, and an incalcu-lable amelioration of the condition of societymust follow of course.

These principles are two :--That, owing totile inequality of soils (the ultimate capital ofsociety), the natural tendency of capital is toYield a perpetually diminishing return ;--and thatthe consumers of capital increase at a perpetu-allv accelerated rate.

_rhe operation of these principles may be mo-dified to any extent by the influence of others :but they exist; they are fully ascertained; andmust henceforth serve as guides to all wise

8_ MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

attempts to rectify an unjust distribution of tilewealth of society. It is difficult to conceive howany sound mind can have withheld its assent tothese grand principles, after they had once beenclearly announced. It is very evident that somesoils posse_s a far inferior power of producingfood to others ; and that, in the natural course ofthings, society will till the best soils first, andthen the next best, and then soils of the thirddegree, and so on, as the demand for food in-creases ; and that, as each adopted soil will yieldless than the last, every application of capital willyield a smaller return_atl applications of capitalbeing regulated by the primary application ofcapital to land. It is difficult to see how thisgeneral principle can be disputed, however largemay be the allowance required for the influenceof other principles. Improvements in tillage,yet undreamed of, may increase the produce in-calculably; but this increased produce will stillbe subjected to the same law. There will be aninequality of improved as of unimproved soils.New powers, chemical and mechanical, may bebrought to bear on the soil for ever and ever ;and still the same law must hold good whilethere is an original inequality in the material onwhich those powers are employed. Whether weobtain our food from the sea, or from new regionsof the earth,--if we could fetch it down from themoon, or up from the centre of the globe,--theprinciple must hold good as long as there arelimited and varying facilities for obtaining thisfood, and an _creasing demand for it. More

aoaAL oP MAS_ FAnLES. 85

labour and more would be given to answer eachnew demand ; and the return would still be less,till it came to a vanishing point.

If this labour were that of stocks and stonesin the service of a reasonable number of men,the simple fact would be that this reasonablenumber of men must live upon the produce ofthe labour already set in motion. But the la-bour in question is human labour, which eats inproportion as it works, and multiplies itself fasterby far than it can augment its supply of food.The proprietor of a field feeds his five childrenfrom it, till they each have five children, andeach of these five children in their turn. Doesthe produce of the paternal field augment itselffive times, and then twenty-five times, to suit thegrowing wants of the new generations ? It maypossibly be made to yield double, and then threetimes, and then four times what it once did ; butno kind or degree of skill can make the ratio ofits productiveness the same as that of humanincrease. What primary rule of practice followsfrom the combination of these two principles?

The increase of population is necessarily limitedby the means of subsistence.

Since successive portions of capital yield a less andless return, and the human species produce at aconstantly accelerated rate, there is a perpetualtendency in population to press upon the means ofsubsistence,

Tho ultimate ebecks by whioh population ia kept

36 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

down to the level of the means of subsistence, arev/ce and misery.

Since the ends of life are virtue and happiness,these checks ought to be superseded by the mildermethods which exist within man's reach.

These evils may be delayed by promoting theincrease of capital, and superseded by restrainingthe increase of population.

Towards the one object, a part of society may doa little ; towards the other, all may do much.

By r_nderingproperty secure, expenditure frugal,and production easy,society may promote the growthof capltah

By bringing no more children into the world thanthere is a subsistence provided for, society maypreserve itself from the miseries of want. In otherwords, the timely use of the mild preventive checkmay avert ttle horrors of any positive check.

The preventive check becomes more, and thepositive checks less powerful, as society advances.

The positive checks, having perform_l their officein stimulating the human faculties, and originatingsocial institutions, must be _vholly superseded bythe preventive check before society can attain itsultimate aim,--the greatest happiness of thegreatest number.

However the wealth of society may be distri-buted,--whether among the three classes who,

at present, in all civilized countries, divide it, oramong the partakers of a common stock, (ac-cording to the desire of some who mourn our

evils, and look, as others think, in a wrong place

for the remedy),--howevcr the weahh of society

may be distributed, the above principles are ofthe highest concern to the whole of society.

_tORALOF MANY FABLES. 37

Some may feel sooner thau others the pressure ofpopulatioq against the means of subsistence ; butit ultimately concerns all, to the last degree, thatthere should be subsistence for the race. This

consideration is prior to nil others wilich relateonly to the modes and degrees in which wealthshall be shared by _'arious classes. There is

little wisdom in fixing a scale of enjoymentswhile society is lai_l open to vice, disease, anddeath,--the a_ful rembution for a careless ad-ministration of the common possession.--Yet ti_epolicy of rulers,--of rulers by office and by in-flueuee,--bas, till very lately, been to stimulatepopulation wahout any regard to the subsistenceprovided for it. The plea has always been thatevery man born into the world brings with himthe labour which will support more than himself:but each must also bring with him the land onwhich his labour is to be employed, or he mayfind it no more possible to live upon labour thanto live upon air. There is newt any fear thatpopulation will not increase fast enough, as itsincrease is absolutely determined by the existingmeans {br its support. But there is a perpetualdanger that it may increase too fast for the pur-poses of the ruler; and, for what has but too sel-dom entered into his purposes,--the h,_ppinessof his people. If he looks to the narratives ofwars, he may find that the subsistence of armieshas always failed sooner than men, though itsarmed force call never compose more than asmall portion of any nation. He wit( find in thehistory of every state that when tim over-pres-

25

38 _to_xL OF _t,_NY FABLES.

sure of tile people ul_on its food, partially andmost painfully kept down bv the death of itsinfants and its aged, and of those who havegrown sickly throu_h want, has been yet moretearfully relieved by the agency of famine andpestilence, a new impulse is invariably given, far_lore efficacious than the bidding of any sove-reign. It is folly, he may thus see, to lash thedull tide of a swollen river when banked up sothat it cannot flow ; and wiaen a portion of itswaters are drawn off, the stream runs fast enoughof itself. If the power of a ruler were to be esti-mated by the rate at which he could induce theincrease of his subjects, which would be the mostpowerful,_the Emperor of China or the Kingof Hayti? The Haytian empire is insignificantenough in comparison of the Chinese ; but the}Iaytiau king sees his subjects multiplying,amidst their superabundance of food, at a ratehitherto unsurpassed; while the Chinese canmultiply no more till they can enlarge the extentof their food. Under the stimulus of royal pro-mises, children may be born ; but by the com-mand of a higher authority, they die. The lawsof nature are too strong for kings. In this case,the bidding is either needle8a or unavailing.

Any power of stimulus which rulers possessshould be otherwise applied,--to tim productionof subsistence. If the plain rule were followed,of making increased subsistene_ precede an in-crease of population, the great work of the dis-tribution of wealth would follow its own natural

laws; andmen would only l_ve to participate and

_IOIlAL OF 51ANY FABLES, 89

be content. When the final cause of the arrange-ment by which population has been ordained topress against the means of subsistence shall havewrought its work in stinmlatin_ the human fa-culties, and opening up new resources to therace, there will be as ample an enjoyment of tileblessings of life as the warmest advocate of nmn-bets can desire,--an enjoyment infinitely greaterfor the absence of all deadly struggle or piningde_ire for a due share of ttle bounties of nature'smighty feast.

At present, however, while we have the prideof luxurv within our palaces, and famine at theirgates, it'is necessary to ascertain how the twoprinciples announced above affect the distributionof the wcalth of society.

The uncontrolled operation of these principleswill be found the main cause of the tremendous

inequality of possession in society ; and if so-ciety wishes to put an end to such inequality, itmust be done by suiting the proceedings of so-ciety to these principles, and not by any tempo-rary measures. If the possessions of the richestof our peers were to-morrow to be divided amongthe poorest of our operatives and country, la-bourers, no permanent relief to the latter classwould be obtained by beggaring the former, andthe same principles would go on working, theday after, to produce in time precisely similarresults. Even if it were the practice with us, asit was with the Jews, that land should revert tothe original possessors, at certaiu fixed periods,the same laws would work ; and to even greater

E2

40 ._IoaAn Or _I._Y FA_nSS.

disadvantage than now, as the land-owners wouldnot be so rich, while the labourers would be quite

as poor. Property would run less into masses;but there would be less wealth to be amassed.

There is no use in oppo_ition to these principles,or in discontent at their natural results. The

true wisdom is in modifying tt,e results by prac-

tically recognizing the principle. We must con-trol tlte rise of rent by stimulating agricultural

improvements, and preventing the demand fortbod from outstripping them. l_,re must mode-rate the pressure upon the subsistence, or wages

fund, by regulating the numbers who are to shareit. We must moderate the pressure against the

profits t\md, by keeping the demands upon thewages fund within due bounds.*

¢_ It is well known that there are persons in this_;ountxy, as in France and elsewhere, who hold the opi-nion that the evils of unequal distribution would be an-nihilated by aumhilal;ing the distinctions of rent, profits,and wages ; making the whole society the sole land-owner and capitalist, and all it_ members labourers. Itis impossible to doubt the benevolent intentions of theleading preachers of this doctrine, whose exertions haveoriginated in sympathy with the most suffering portionof the commumty ; but it is equally impossible to theiropponents to allow that any arbitrary arrangementsof exi._ting resources can exclude want, while the pri-mary laws of proportion are left uncontrolled. VVhenthe advocates of a common stock man show that theirsystem augmeuts capital and regulates population moree}t'eetual!y than the _ystem under which individual pro-pmty is held, their pretensions will be regarded withmore fitvour than they have hitherto engaged. At pre-sent, it is pretty evident that in no way is capital solittle hkely to be taken care of as whe_l it belongs to

t_IORAL OF MANY FABLES. 4l

The wealth of society naturally distribute_ it-

self" between two classe_ ot cal,it,_lists , from one

every budv,--_.e, to nobody ; and ti_at, but for the bar-riers of in'dividnal rlzhts of property, the tide nf p,)pu-lotion would flow in with an overwhelming torte. There

llhlV h5 all age to crone when t}_e in,_tlt}lt_lou of prnt*ertysha'll cease with the occasions for it: but sut'h an ageis barely within our ken. _Ieantm_e, one t,allper s_ steinexhibit_ the consequences of a t,r_m_ise of mainte_mneewithout a restriction of nnmber_ by the state. If itwere possible now to establish eomm,m-stoek mstitntl,msa_hit.h bh,mld include the entire conmmmty, they _ ouldsoon become so man}" _,V()lkhullh,,s, or trouper barracks.If any one doul,t_ this. let him a_k hlm_elf how capitalis to be husbanded and cherished wiwn it is nolmdy'sinterest to take care of it. and how potmlatlun is to beregnlated when even the pre_ent in._.ufliLient restraintsare taken away. If edueatlon is to supply the defieienevof other stimuli and restraints, let us trove edncatl,m inaddition. We want it enough as an additim_ before wecan think of trying itaq a substitution. Vfe must seeour fathers of iamilies exemplar3" in providing for their¢)',vn off.,prmg hefore they ea_x be trusted to labour anddeny themselve_ h'om an abstract sense of duty. As forthe main principle of the ohjeefions to the abolition ofproprietorship_ 11;is contained in the fi)llowing porti(mof one of my summaries of principles :_

It is supposed by some that these tendencies tolhe fall of wages and profits may be counteractedby abolishing the distinctions of £hares, and ea_tm_

the whole produce of land, capital, and labour, iutoa common st0ek. But tins is a tMlae_'.

For, whatever may he the savin,.r," effeeted by anextensive partnerstnp, such partnership doe._ notaffect the natural laws bv which populatmn increases

thster than capital. T?_e diminution of the returns

to Cal)ltal mu_t occasion iyoverty to a multiplying_3

42 _ior_xL or, _1xsY rX_LES.

of which a portion descends to a third class,--the labom'ers. The two classes of capital-ists are, first, the owners of land or water,-of the natural agents of production,--and next,the farmers of land or water, or those whoemploy, by the application of capital, the naturalagents of production. Each of the three classesobtains his share by purchase,--original, or per-petually renewed--the landowner by tile se-condary or L'oarded labour of his ancestors or ofhis youth ; the capitahst by hoarded labour, andthe purchased labour of" his servants; and thelabourer by primary labour. The landowner re-ceives his share as rent ; the capitalist as profits ;the labourer as wages.

Real REr_T is that which is paid to the landownerfor the use of the original, indestructible powers ofthe soil. The total rent paid by a farmer includes

society, whether those returns are appropriated byindividuals under tire competitive system,or equallydistributed among the members of a co-operativecommunity.

The same checks to the deterioration of the re-sources of society are necess_y under each system.

These are, (in addition to the agricultural im-provements continually taking plaee,)--

1. The due hmitation of the number of con-sumers.

'2,. The lighteniug of the public burdens, whichat present abstract a large proportion ofprofits and wages.

3. A hberal commercial system which shallobvmte the necessity of'bringing poor soilsinto cultivation.

I_IORAL OF MANY FABLES. 43

also the profits of the capital laid out by the land-owner upon the estate.

Laud possesses Its original, indestructible powersin different degrees.

The most fertile being all appropriated, and moreproduce wanted, the next best soil is brought intocultivation ; then laud of the third degree, and soon, till all is tilled that will repay tillage.

An unequal produce being yielded by these dif-ferent lauds, the surplus return of all above thelowest goes to the landowner in the form of rent.

The same thing happen_ when repeated applica-tions of capital are made to the same land for thesake of increasing its productiveness. The producewhich remains over the return to the least produc-tive application of capital goes to the landowner inthe tbrm of rent.

R_NT, therefore, consists of that part of the re-turn made to the more productive portions of capi-tal, by which it exceeds the return made to the leastproductive portion.

New lands arc not tilled, and capital is not em-ployed for a less return, unless the produce willpay the cost of production.

A rise of prices, therefore, creates, and is notcreated by, rent.

When more capital is employed in agriculture,new land is tilled, a further outlay is made on landalready tilled ; and thus also rent arises from iu-crease of capital.

When capital is withdrawn from agriculture, infe-rior, ,. e. the most expensive soils, are let out of cul-tivation ; and thus rent falls.

A rise of rent is, therefore, a symptom, and not acause, of wealth.

The tendenc3 of rent is, therefore, to rise for everin an improving country, But there are eouate_'-acting causes.

44 :_tonAI, OF MANY FABLES.

Artincreases prorluetion beyond the usual re-turn_ to capital laid out : priees fall in propt_rtionto the abundance of the supply, and rent dechnes.

Improved facihue_ for brm,_mg produce to mar-ket, by increasing the supply, cause prices to falland rent to decline.

CO_i3tOnlTIES, being pro:tueed by capital and la-bour, are the joint property of the eapitali_-t andlabourer.

The eapitali_t pays in advance to the labourersflmir share of the commndity, and thus heeome_ it,-sole owner.

The portion thus paid is WAGEs.I{.E._.L WAGb:s are the articles of use and con-

sumption that the labourer reeeive_ in return for lfi_labour.

NOMIN.A.L"W._GI_S are the portion he receives ofthese things reckoned in money.

The fund from whmh wages are paid in anycountry eonsMs of the mticie_ required for the useand eousmnption of labourers xxhleh that countrycontains.

THE PROPOKTION OF THIS FUND I_ECEIVED B'_"INDIVIDUALS MUqT MAINL'_ZDEPEND ON TItE NUM-DEl_ AMONG WHOM THE FUND IS DIVINED.

The rate of wages in any country depends, there-fore, not on the wealth whmh that country contains,hut on tim proportion between its capital and it, po-pulation.

As population has a tendency to increase fasterthan capital, wages can be prevented fi'om falling tothe lowest point only by adjusting the proportion ofpopulation to capital.

The lowest point to which wages can be perma-nently reduced, is that which affords a bare subsist-enee to the labourer.

_*ORA_ oF I_IANY FA_t.ES. 45

The highest point to whiehwages can be perma-nently raised is that which leaves to the capitalistjust profit enough to make it worth his while to in-vest capital.

The variations of the rate of wages between theseextreme points depending mainly on the supply oflabour offered to the capitalist, the rate of uages ismainly determined by the sellers, not the buyers oflabour.

The produce of labour and capital, after renthasbeen paid, is divided between the labourer and thecapitalist, under the name of wages and profits.

V_;here there are two shares, each determines

the other, provided they press equally upon oneanother.

The increase of the supply of labour, claimingreward, makes the pressnre in the present case un-equal, and renders wages the regulator of profits.

The restriction of the supply of food causes thefall of both profits and wages.

The increased expense of' raising food enhancesits price : labour, both agricultural and manufac-turing, becomes dearer (without advantage to thelabourer) : this rise of wages causes profits to fall ;and this fall brings after it a reduction of the labour-er's share, or a fall of wages.

The fiall of profits and wages is thus referable tothe same cause which raises rent ;--to an inequalityin the fertility of soils.

Thus it appears that, owing to the inequality

of soils, and the principle of increase in thenumber of consumers, the natural tendency of

rent is to rise ; and to rise in proportion to theincrease in the number of consumers. The ten-

46 _1oaAL OF r_._Y FABLES.

dency of profits is to fall as rent rises, i. e. a_the production of food becomes more expensive.The fall of profits brings after it, as a necessaryconsequence, the fall of wages ; and the indivi-dual shares of wages are still further reduced byevery increase of the numbers among whom the_vages' fund is to be divided.

These are important truths, and by no meansdiscouraging, if we know how to make use ofthem. There is no need hastily to suppose thatour landowners must inevitably get all thewealth of society into their own hands, so thatthere will in time be only two classes in thestate,--landowners and paupers. It is possiblethat this might happen, as it is possible that wemay ail die of famine from nobody choosing tobe at the trouble of tilling the ground. The twocases are possible, and the catastrophes aboutequally probable. No one can deny the strongtendet_cy to famine to which we are all liableunless we exert ourselves to avoid it ; and theundue rise of rent, and fall of profits and wages,is quite as certainly avoided by moderate caution--by bringing natural laws to bear upon eachother, and not (as some desire) a law of humanwill to control that which is beyond the reach ofthe unassisted human will..

Some who toil and earn but little recompensecry out upon the wealth of the landowners, anddesire a law which shall forbid their receivingmore than so much for a certain quantity andquality of land. A law that men should not dieiu a famine would be as much to the purpose,

MOR&L OF I_IANY FABLES. 47

The way to prevent men dying of hunger is tosow grain for them ; and the way to prevent thelandlords growin_ unduly rich is to provide morefood ;--whether by improving the rnethods oftillage at home, or inventing anti improving pro-ductions of other kinds which may exchange forfood from abroad. Another way is by makingmachinery (which does not eat and drink) super-sede imman labour, so that we may have theincreased production without the aec'ompanyingconsumption ; but the most certain method of all,and that which is in the power of all, is to pro-portion tim number of consumers to the existingsupply of food. As soon as this is done, rentswill be stationary, and will be certain to fall afterthe next improvement in tillage or manufacture.Meantime, the landowner can no more help therise of his rents than the poorest operative in thenext town; and, in fact, not so much, if thatoperative is bringing up a large family to depre-ciate the value of labour, and increase the exces-sive pressure upon food. The landlord, meantime,declares truly that he is growing no richer. Heis told that his rents have risen since such atime; but (from various causes) his tenantscannot pay the whole ; and he is besides burdenedwith the maintenance of the indigent who havebeen pauperized by the undue depression ofwages. No one would be more glad than he, tohave his rents nominally lowered so that tiemight receive the whole, and do what he pleasedwith it. No one would be more glad than he, ifhe be wise, at the tidings of fresh diseovefie_ in

48 MORAL0_' _AN¥ FABLES.

science or inventions in art, or of new resourcesopened beyond sea, or of increased providence inthe habits of the poorer classes, which shouldcause his income to fall with the price of food,but render his lessened i_come more secure.

It is of even greater consequence to ascertainthe relative position of the other two parties,since any quarrel about their respective sharescannot but cause a diminution of that which is tobe divided between them. Each party beingdependent upon the other, any interruption oftheir harmony cannot but be injurious to both :but dissensio_a is especially disastrous where, asin the present case, the dependence is uneqllal.The capitalists have the great advantage over thelabourers of being able to wait longer for theadjustmer_t of disputes which may arise betweenthem. Deplorable as are the consequences toindividuals and to society of living upon capitalfrom the absence of revenue, the case of those_'ho are driven to live upon their capital is, atleast, better than that of file party which has nocapital to live upon.

The consequence of this inequality of depend-ence is that power of a different kind is morefrequently put in action by tile more dependentthan by the less dependent party. The power ofcombination to obtain a larger share of tilesubsistence fund is in tile hands of both parties,and is occasionaltyused by both ; but much morefrequently by the labourers than by file capitalists.For tiffs there are obvious reasons.

_IORAL OF HANY FABLES. 4_}

If the proportion of labour to capital be equal,there is little inducement to either party to quarrelwith the other, as their shares of gain arebalanced: but if ally capitalists choose to pressupon the labourers, it is to their own ultimatedisadvantage, as well as that of the labourers ; forthere can never be a combination so extensive as

to include all capitalists ; and those who are notincluded will find it their interest to lower the

prices of their commodities, paying the samewages as the united capitalists, and being contentwith the ordinary rate of profit. By means of thisunderselling, the extraordinary rate of profit isnecessarily brought down, and the capitalists arejust as they were at first, the reduction havingfallen upon the wages of the labourer. Matterscan seldom, however, proceed so far as to theinfliction of this gratuitous injury. If the pro-portion of labour to capital be equal, a very shortresistance of the labourers to the reduction oftheir wages suffices to make thecapitatists repentof their endeavours to grasp more than their_bare: and such endeavours are consequentlyextremely rare where capital and labour are dulyproportioned.

If ttrere be a superabundance of capital, thecapitalists are in no condition to gain any ahingby combination. To pay high wages answersbetter to them than tu live upon their capital.In such a case, therefore, the capitalists nevercombme.--Or rather,_and I say it with sorrow,-if such a case should ari,_e, they would notcombine. Such eases can scarcely be spoken of

F

50 bIORAL OF MANY FABLES°

in this country as matters of actual experience,since there are but too few instances of capitalbeing abundant ill proportion to labour.

On the third supposition,--that labour aboundsin proportion to capita|,--there is no need forthe capitalists to use their power of combination.

" Ti_ey can obtain what they want without it. Thelabourers are the weaker party, inasmuch as theymust have food, and depend on the capitalists forit:--not for the quantity ;--that depends onthemselves,--on the nmnbers they bring todivide a certain quantity ;--and the capitalists canresist their claims no turther than to secure the

rate of profit, without which no capitalist would dobusiness. Not for the quantity of ibod to eachman do the labourers depend on the capitalists;but for the purchase of their labour at all; andtherefore, the capitalists do not need to combinewhen labour superabonnds.

For the same reasons, the labourers do nolneed to combine when capital superabounds,They can naturally obtain as large a share of ttmsubsistence fund as will leave ordinary profits tothe capitalist : and this happens of course, as iswell known from the examples of newly settledcountries, and newly invented manufactures,where the profits of the capitalist are invariablyprevented by the'dearness of labour from muchexceeding the ordinary rate.

In cases of equal proportion, the labo_lrers runeven a greater risk from a strike than thecapitalists. Some of the capitalists will, if thebalance be exact, withdxaw their cap_,tal from

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 51

business rather than stand a strike ; and thus iscaused an immediate superabundance of labour,with all its disadvantages to the labourers. Butif no capitalist withdraws, the waste of capitalnecessarily caused by a strike causes also asuperabundance of labour; and thus also thelabourers suffer for having destroyed the balance.

But when combination is resorted to in the

absence of all other power, its results are themost disastrous to the weak party which employsit. The labourers who superabound are alreadyat a disadvantage, which can only be increasedby any resistance which helps to impoverish thecapitalists. They may injure the capitalists byimpairing the capitalists' share of the subsistencefund : but they injure themselves much more byimpairing, at the same time, the labourers" share.That such means of injuring capitalists are everresorted to in such a condition of affairs provesmost forcibly that the largest of the parties con-cerned is not yet fully aware how the case stands,and that a far greater power of competition withthe capitalists is lodged with them than thatwhich they are too ready to employ to tbe injuryof both parties and the good oi neither.

If it had been, indeed, true that, by any natu-ral laws of distribution, any class of societ'y couhlbe placed in a position of necessary anti perma-nent inferiority of rights to any other class, allwriters on the philosophy of society would haveshrunk from relating any fables whieh must con-vey so sad a moral. But thereis a very cheeringmoral involved in every melancholy story that

r2

52 MOR&L OF MANY FABLES,

we hear of the contentions of masters and

men, and of tile sufferings which thence arise.The fact is that, so far from the masters havingany natural power,--even if they had the wish,--to oppress the working classes, the workingclasses hohl a power which may make them theequals in independence of any class in society.That they have not yet used it is less their faultthan their misfortune. Whether fault or mis-fortune, it is destined to be remedied, if we maytrust to experience working its invariable work,and comamuicating that wisdom and powerwhich can by no other means be gained. Theonly control over the price of labour resideswit]_lthose who can control its quantity. Over-stock the market with labour, and the most com-passionate of capitalists can do nothing to pre-vent its being ill rewarded. Understock themarket with labour, and the veriest miser thatever employed gold for profit cannot prevent la-bour fetching a high price. And with whomdoes it rest to overstock or understock tim marketwith labour ? With whom does it rest to deter-mine whether the subsistence fund which exists

shall be divided among a moderate number oramong a scrambling multitude'! Mo_t assuredlynot with the capitalists but the labourers.

When the labouring elass fully comprehendsthe extent of the power whieh it holds,--a powerof obtaining not only its own terms from tilecapitalists, but all the necessaries and comfortsof life, and with them the ease and dignity whichbecome free-born men, they will turn their other

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 53

power of combination to better purposes thanthose of annoyance and injury. The commonplea of those "labourers who already under_-tandtheir own case is that there is little use in scat-tered individuals being careful to -proportion theirfamilies to their means of subsistence, while tilegreater number muhi,ply thoughtlessly, and ,pre-pare for new encroachments on the subsistencefund. The same plea has been in use for everon the first pro_posal of any great social amelio-ration ; and- it has ever been found that ameliora-tion has followed _ith unex-pccted speed uponthe virtuous efforts of scatterett individuals. Theywork round to each other, they combine, theybring others into the combination, aml theseagai_a bring more, till there are hundreds of fol-lowers for every lea(ler, and for every followerthere is a foe tile less. Wily should it not be sowith this greatest of all ameliorations that hasever been proposed ? If the working classes canstill combine |br obiects which have been a thou-sand times proved unattainable or hurtful whenattained, why should they not combine for pur-poses of providence and mutual support in abetter system of economy ? Such combinationshave already begun ; tbr every society which hasfor its objects the economy of the resources ofthe working people, and the encouragement ofprovident habits, is a society for hmiting tllepopulation within the means of subsistence. Manysuch associations are so well fou:_ded as to giveassurance that they will be persevered in ; if per-_evered in, it cannot be very long before some one

1,3

_4 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

class or band of labourers feels the benefits of pru-deuce, and exhibits the truth that moderate self-denial in one direction brings means of rationalindulgence in others: and _hen thisbappens, thework of amelioration will be fairly begun. Theworking men's day will be at band, and no onewill hail it more joyfully than the capitalists ;--l_brwillingly would they exchange such power asis given them by the helplessness of their la-bourers, for security against the waste of capitalwhich is caused by the opposition of their work-people and tim pauperism of ttmir dependents.

Comhinations of labourers against capitalists(whatever other effects they may have) cannot se-cure a permanent use of wages unless the supplyof labour falls short of the demand ;---in which case,strikes are usually unnecessary,

Nothing can permanently affect the rate of wageswhich does not affect the proportion of populationto capital.

Legislative interference does not affect this pro-portion, and is therefore useless.

Strikes affect it only by wasting capital, and aretherefore worse than useless.

Combinations may avail or not, according to thereasonableness of their objects.

Whether reasonable or not, combinations are notsubjects for legislative interference ; the law havingno cognizance of their causes.

Disturbance of the peace being otherwise pro-vided against, combinations are wisely thereibrenow left unregarded by the law.

The condition of labourers may be best im-proved,-

1. By.inventions and discoveries which create

I_IORAL OF _IAN¥ FABLES. 55

capital ; and by husbanding instead of wast-ing capita] ;--ibr instance, by making _avingsinstead of supporting strikes.

2. ]3y ADJUSTING 2HE PROPORTION O_' POPU-LATION TO CAPITAL.

This is not the place in which to show howtremendous is the waste of capital in a turn-out ;nor have I been able to do it in that one of myfables which treats of combinations of workmen.I felt myself bound to present the fairest instance,in order to show the badness of the principle ofa strike in the best case ; but I have the meansof showing, if I had but the space, that themembers of a combination are often--are com-

monly-the victims of a far more despotic ty-ranny than they themselves ascribe to the mas-ters, and a more ruinous spoliation than the dis-contented suppose the rich desirous to inflictupon the poor. I trust and believe that thereare many William Aliens among tile class ofoperatives ; but I also believe that few of theseare leaders of strikes. Allen was an unwillingleader of a strike ; and there are many who seeeven more clearly than he did the hopelessnessand mischievousness of the contest, who haveeither more selfishness to keep them out of it, ormore nerve to make a protest against a bad prin-ciplc, and a stand against a bad practice. I be-lieve that the most intelligent and the best menamong the working-classes now decline joininga turn-out; and it is very certain that not onlythe most ignorant, but the worst, are among thefirst to engage. The reasons for this will be

56 _IORAL OF MANY FABLES.

sufficientlv obvious to those who consider what

facilities these associations afford for such prac-tices as ignorant and bad men like,--for med-dling and governing, for rioting, for idling, andtippling, and journeying, and speechifimg atother people's expense. 1Xo better _ccasioncould be devised tot exposing the simple, andtimid, and unwary to be robbed, and jobbed, andmade tools of by a few sharpers and idle busy-bodies. It is very certain that three or four indi-viduals have often succeeded, for their own pur-poses, in setting three or four hundred, or thou-sand, better men than themselves at enmity withtheir masters. It is difficult to imagine a caseof more spirit-rousing hardship than that of the

• labourer who is compelled or inveigled into acontest which he knows, or may know, to be badin principle, and hopeless in its issue,--who must,against his will or his reason, give up a subsist-ence which is already too scanty, in order thathe may find it still further reduced when he re-turns to it. In consideration of such cases,which everybody knows to be very common, Ishall state a few facts, _hich may assist andstrengthen the determination of some who maybe striving against the now prevalent dispositionto strike for wages. The circumstances of thetime will excuse a disproportioned enlargementon a very obvious point.

In order to bring the principle of strikes tothe test, we have only to ask whether they in-crease capital or check population ?_one or otherof which they must do if they are to benefit the

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 57

struggling party. It is known to everybody thatthey do neither ; but it is not so well known thatthey do the direct contrary,--that they not onlywo.ste capital, but increase the supply of labour,the very thing of which there is already toomuch. They do this by driving the capitalists tofind those silent labourers who never ask subsist-

ence or refuse their masters' bidding--the ma-chines, which are the workmen's abhorrence.It is unreasonable as it is vain to abhor machi-nery; and that its use is facilitated by strikeswill be regarded hereafter as one of the few com-pensating eircumstanees which arise out of themiseries of such a struggle for power or forbread. But, however great may be the ultimategood of this issue, the issue is certaintv tim veryreverse of that contemplated and desire_t by thosewho turn out. Yet the time is come for them tomeet it; and they will do well to take heed totile state of the labour-market at this period.

After long depression and many fluctuations,it appears that there is a revival of a steady de-mand for labour. The condition of our capitalistsis, however, different from what it was in mostformer periods of prosperity. They are nowbusy; but they work for very low profits inalmost every branch of manufacture or trade.

Their men must also work hard for little pay,till some of the many circumstances which tendto raise profits shall have occurred. Never, how-ever, were our working-class less disposed to takethe low wages which alone the masters are ableto give. Combinations to secure a rise are

_8 _oRAL 01' _IANY FABLES.

everywhere spreading, and grand preparationsare tbns making for securing a fall. Tile lowprofits of the masters will not stand encroach-ment. There is a brisk foreign competition,which forbids trifling with any present demand.Under these circumstances, if our working menchoose to stand idle, what remains to be doneJout to use machinery to the utmost extent thatingenuity can devise on the spur of a great occa-lsion ? Tile quantity of human labour alreadythus superseded is very considerable; and there_vill be more, in proportion to the failure of har-mony between capitalists and labourers, till not avisible chance is left for the employment of halfour working men in the way they themselvespropose. Happy will it be for them if tile usualconsequences of the improvement of machineryfollow in the extension of our manufactures, sothat there may still be room for such as canlearn a new business! and happy wilt it be forthem if they bare become convinced, in theirtime of har(tship, that to moderate the supply oflabour is the only way of securing its desiredrecompense !

The following case illustrates the method bywhich human labour is driven out of demand:

it is only one of many which have arisen out ofthe tyranny of the leaders of strikes, who, notsatisfied with turning out themselves, compeltheir weaker, but reluctant, brethren to be idlealso. , In the case in question, tile turning out ofthe head spinners in a cotton factory, compellingthe idleness of six or seven work-people sutrordi-

_IORALOF _IANV _BLES. 59

nate to each spinner, has tM the head spinner'smaster to find that he can do without him, andthe six or seven subordinates to rejoice in theirfreedom from dependence on his movements.

Six or seven different machines are employedin the production of cotton-yarn from raw cotton.All but the last are called " preparation machi-nery," and one person waits upon each. Tileoffice of this preparation machinerv is to formthe raw cotton into a thick and tender thread,called a " roving." The office of the last ma-chbm is to twist and draw out the roving into afiner anti stronger thread : this operation is called"spinning," and tile spun thread is "yarn." Thismachine is called dm "hand-mule." Hand-mules

are worked iu pairs, each pair requiring the headspinner above-mentioned to direct its operation,and two or more children to place the rovingsin the machine, and piece the threads that break.

The head spinner, though paid in proportionto the superiority of his work, has always beenthe one to turn out ; and his subordinates mustgo with him of necessity, however averse theymight be to do so. It was not to be borne thatthe discontents of tim comparatively few shouldderange the whole manufacture, and deprive themany of their bread ; and nothing could be morenatural than for some expedient to be sought bywhich the masters and the subordinates might bemade independent of the head spinners. Twentyyears ago, attempts were made to invent someapparatus which might be attached to the mule,and dischargethespinner'stask. The apparatus

60 MOaAL OF MANY FABLES.

first used was eitl_er too complex or too uncertainin its operation to answer the purpose; and, asoften as it failed, the spinners clapped ti_eirhauds, believed tlle mamlfacture more in theirpower than ever, and advanced in tl, eir demandsaccordingly. They went somewhat too far in1824, when they refilsed very high wages, anddrove the Mal_chester capitalists to vigorousmeasures of self-defence. The requisite talentwas sought and found for the object required;and, early in 18"25, a patent for tile " self-actingmule " was taken out, nolhing being wanting toits efficacy but the simplification which time andpractice were sure to bring, and which wouldlessen its cost so as to quali_ it for commonadoption. No sooner had it been set to work,and begun to gain reputation, than a great partof the estabhshment where it was in use wasdestroyed by fire, and the machine was not heardof"forsome months. As soon as it began to beagain attended to, so great a stagnation oftrade took place, tilat the spirit of tim spinnerwas subdued : the master was unwilling to mor-ti|¥ him in iris distress, and atl mention of theseif-acting mule was dropped. This was verylmrd upon the patentees, who had been originallyforced into the business, and had spent, not onlymuch time and pains, but a great deal of moneyon tbe invention. They rightly supposed, how-ever, that the head spinners would give themtheir turn on tbe first opportunity. They wenton improving and improving their invention,while awaiting another strike on tlle revival of

MORAL OV MANY FABLES. 6]

trade. This happened at the close of 1829 ; andthen several leading houses provided themselveswith each a pair of self-acting mules, by way oftrial : but the adoption of the machine went onlanguidly till tim great strike of 1831 achievedits triumph. It is now used in upwards of fiftymills, and seems likely soon to be adopted in allothers. The head spinners have not a chanceagainst it ; for it not only saves their wages, andleaves their subordinates'at peace, but does theirwork better than they could do it themselves ;-an unexpected result with which the perseveranceof the inventors has been rewarded. The quantityof yarn is greater than could before be producedin "the same time and with the same number of

spindles: the yarn is of greater strength andmore uniform quality : there is a material savingof uaste in the subsequent processes, from theregularity with which the yarn is wound on thespindle; and, from the same cause, a greaterquantity of a better fabric than before issuesfrom the loom of the weaver.

Tiffs story preaches its own moral. Everyone ought to be glad to hear of improvements inthe comforts of mankind ; but all would ratherpay any other purchase-money ibr them thanthe subsistence of a useful and often sufferingclass of society. It is in the power of our work-ing class to provide that all such improvementsshall hencefblth arise otherwise than throughtheir opposition, and for their destruction. Withthem rests the choice of controlhng the labour-market on the one hand, and pauperism on theother. --_ G

_ MORAL OF MAN_ FABLES.

If no moral reaches us from the long tragedyof pauperism which has been enacted before theeyes of malay generations, we are past teaching.For the last three generations, especially, tilestate of the indigent has been an object of pri-mary attention to all classes in our society.Statesmen have legislated, magistrates have ad-ministered, the clergy have preached, tradesmenand manufacturers have contributed, the farmershave been burdened: almost the sole employ-ment of women, next to the care of their ownfamilies, has been tile charge of the poor ; alms-giving has been the first virtue to which infantenthusiasm has been roused, and charity, in thissense, has been made the test of moral sincerityand religious proficiency. And what has all thisdone for society ? The number of the indigenthas increased from day to day, and at a perpetu-ally increasing rate, till it has absorbed, in alegal eharity alone, nine millions per annum ofthe subsistence-fund, which is tile clear right oftlle independent labourer. Itis no small consi-deration that the habitually indigent become, asa matter of course, as their doom, the most pro-fligate portion of society. But this fearful con-sideration is not all. We not only defraud theindustrious classes of their due, now temptingand now forcing them down into a state of indi-gence, and by the same act condemning them tohopelessness and vice, but we, at the same time,put in motion an apparatus of moral evil amongevery class which has to communicate with theindigent, which would bear down the preaching

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 63

of the twelve apostles themselves. If accountcould be taken of the unjust partialities_ofma-gistrates, of the abuse of power by open vestries,and the jobbing by select vestries'; of the heart-wringing oppression sustained by the tradesmanand farmer ; of the open licentiousness and con-cealed fraud, the ungodly conspiracies and dia-bolical hatreds nourished by our system of legalcharity, and the daily repeated, cruel injusticeinflicted by our methods of public and privatecharity, we might well doubt whether some fiendhad not been making sport of us under the holyBemblance of charity. It may bedoubted whe-ther the most profli_gate tyranny ever broke ordepraved so many hearts as the charities of ourChristian nation. If our Fractices are to bejudged by their fruits, there are none, next toslavery, for which we need so much pardon asfor our methods of charity.

There is no use in pleading our good inten-lions. The fathers of the Inquisition are everready with their plea of good intentions. Theparent who breaks the spirit, and thus annihilatesthe moral liberty of his ehitd, does it with thebest intention_ The manceuvrer tells twentyties a-day with the best intentions. There is,perhaps, no crime in whose defence good inten-tions may not with sincerity have been pleaded.The question is why, with evidence that we werewrong, daily and hourly before our eyes, we didnot mend our methods. Thence arises the moral

of this dreary lesson, that virtue, whether benefi-cence or any other, does not consist in formal andarbitrary practices, but in conformity to vital

G2

64: MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

principles. Without regard to this essentialtruth, virtue may turn to vice before we areaware ; and as a proof of it, we have been doingthe pleasure of fiends under a persuasion that wewere discharging the duty of Christians. Wehave exercised self-denial in our charity: but sodid Simeon Stylobates in his piety, when he livedon tlle top of a pillar. We have toiled and suf-fered in our clmritv : but so did the pilgrims whowalked with peas i'n their shoes to the sepulchre.Their piety and their sufferings were a mockeryof Him they worshipped; and our charity hasproved a scandal to tile religion we profess.What follows ? Not that piety and charity area mockery and a delusion ; but that Simeon didnot understand the one, and we have most as-suredly mistaken the other.

One essential distinction between a compara-tively rich and poor society is in the moral rightwhich individuals have to dispose of their moneyin certain modes. Where capital abounds in pro-portion to the consumers, individuals are fullyjustified in giving away in whatsoever form and towhomsoever they please ; as they give away thatwhich leaves nobody destitute. But in a societywhere population abounds in proportion to capi-tal, to give food and clothing to the idle whilethe industrious are debarred from earning it, isto take subsistence from him whose due it is, togive it to one who has no claim. Tl,us to violatejustice can be no true charity. Where con-sumers abound in proportion to capital, it is ob-vious that tile way to bestow most happiness is,not to take away one man's share to give it to

_ORAL Or _A_ FAnLES. 65

another, but to do what is possible towardscreating another share in such a way as not tocause more want. In other words, almsgivingis the mode of charity appropriate to one stateof society, and the estabhshment of providentassociations, and the encouragement of emigra-tion, and especially of educauon, are the modesof charity appropriate to another state of society.We have need enough of charity in our presentstate ;--with hundreds of thousands of paupersin our parishes, and of half-starved artizans inour towns, and broken-spirited labourers in ourvii]ages. VCe have need enough of charity,wof the time of such as have leisure, and of theattention of the thoughtful, and of the exertionsof the active, and of the wealth of the opulent.All these will be too little for the removal of theewl which our own mistakes have caused. We

have need enough of charity; and if we wouldlearn how to apply it, there are those among thesufferers who can instruct us. There is in exis-tence a letter from a pour operative living in adistrict where charities of food and clothingabound, entreating the influential parties whomhe addresses to put an end to the almsgivingwhich leaves no chance of a just provision to timhigh-souled working man. There is in existencea petition from a body of agricultural labourersto the House of Lords, last year, praying forthe abolition of legal dmrity which condemnsthe labourer to starvation or degradation. Thesedocuments are signs of the times which are notto be miataken, and which may welj strike us

o3

66 MOaAL OF MANY FABLES.

silent with shame at our incessant complaints ofthe poor for having lost their spirit of independ-ence, and become a degraded race. Where isour Christian charity, when we first wrest fromthem their independence, and then taunt themwith the loss ? when we invite them to encroach,and then spurn them for encroaching ?

Even from this enormous evil, ho_vever, goodis at this moment arL,ing. The rapid, the ap-palling increase of the mischief has directed thegeneral attention towards it ; and the two grandprinciples with which we set out afford the sug-gestion of remedies which are actually in prepara-tion. It is now many years since certain com-missioners, appointed by the French governmentto investigate our pauper system, pronounced itthe great political gangrene of England, whichit was equally dangerous to remove and to letalone. The mischief has been on the increase

ever since, and yet there is hope of cure. If itwere not that we had sound principles to go upon,--if we had all this vice and misery on our handsto be got rid of we knew not how, our conditionwould indeed be deplorable. But, once havinggot hold of the truth that ours is a society wherelabour abounds in proportion to capital, we knowat least how to look about for a remedy, andwith what aim to direct our proceedings. Wemust lessen the inducements to indigence,(strange that such should exist !) by making timcondition of the pauper inferior to that of theindependent labourer, and ensure its remaininguniversally so by appointing a rigid, impartial,

MORAL OF MANY FABLES, 67

and uniform administration of the funds o_ ourlegal charity. Every diminution of the induce-ments to indigence is necessarily an increaseof the inducements to independence; both bygiving the right bias to the inclinations of tilelabourer, and by saving a portion of the sub-sistence-fund.

In proportion to the savings effected in thesubsistence-fund by a rigid administration of tilelegal charity, the surplus labour of our parisheswill be absorbed; and if, by a wise scheme ofemigration, the disproportion between our capitaland labour can be still further reduced, a waywill be open for the total abolition of a legalcharity,--the must demoralizing agency, perhaps,which can be introduced into any state,--a cursebeneath which no society can prosper. We shallthen be at liberty to apply our charity wholly tothat object which should now be uppermost withall tile truly benevolent,--to prevent indigenceinstead of providing for it, in the full confidencethat "accidental cases will be relieved by ac-cidental succour." There are many who believethat an immediate abolition of our legal charitywould "cause less misery than its long con-tinuance: but there is happily no occasion tocontemplate the alternative. There is a stronghope afforded by various instances of partialreformation that a way remains for us out of ourdifficulties,Jtoilsome and painful, no doubt, butpracticable and safe ;--a way of so rectifying theadministration of our poor-laws as to give usthe power of at levgth abolishing them. Honoured

68 r_oRAI, OF _ANY FABLES.

be the rulers who shall set us forward on this

path; and blessed be every one who bestirshimself to remove obstructions by the substitution

of a true for a spurious chmitv !_Here is the statement of the evil and of one of

the appropriate remedies.

In a society composed of a natural gradation ofranks, some must be poor ; i.e. have nothing morethan the means of present subsistence.

Any suspension of these means of subsistence,

* If a rebuke were needed for despondency respectingthe prospects of society_ it might be fimnd in the experi-ence of the change which a few months have wrought inthe popular convictions as to the true direction of charity.Fifteen months ago, it required some resolution to giveso much pain to kind hearts as wa_ occasioned by suchexposures as those COntained in " Cousin Marshall/' andyet more to protest against poc_r-laws for Ireland. The]mblieatlons of the Poor-Law Commissioners have sincewrought powerfully in the right direction. Convictionhas flashed from mind to mind _ and now we hear fromall quarter_ of Provident and Friendly 8ocieties, of Emi-gratmn_ of parish ._truggles for the rectification of abuses,of the regulation of workhouses, the simtting up of soupand blanket charities, and the revision of charitable con-stitutions, with a view to promote the employment oflalraur rather than the giving of alms. The extent ofthe change of opinion in the same time with regard topoor-laws for Ireland is scarcely less remarkable. Ouno subject has mistake been more prevalent_ and neverhas it more rapidly given way before the statement ofprinciples and facts. The noblest charity, after all,would be a provision for the regular statement_ in apopular form, of principles and facts of like importance.V_'hen shall we have a l_linister of Public Instructionwho will be the angel of this new dispensation ? It is forthe people to say when.

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 6_)

whether through disaster, sickness, or decrepitude,converts tlle poor into the indigent.

Since indigence occasions misery., and disposes tovice, the welfare of society requires the greatestpossible reduction of the number of the indigent.

Charity, pubhc and private, or an arbitrary distri-bution of the subsistence-fund, has hitherto failed toei_ect this object ; the proportion of the indigent tothe rest of the population having increased from ageto age.

This is not surprising, since an arbitrary distri-bution of the subsistence-fund, besides renderingconsumption unproductive, and encouraging a mul-tiplication of consumers, does not meet the difficultyarising from the disproportion of numbers to themeans of subsistence.

The small unproductive consumption occasionedby the relief of sudden accidents and rare infirmitiesis necessary, and may be justifiably provided for by

charity, since such charity does not tend to theincrease of numbers ; but, with this exception, allarbitrary distribution of the necessaries of life isinjurious to society, whether in the form of privatealmsgiving, public charitable institutions, or a legalpauper-system.

The tendency of all such modes of distributionhaving been found to be to encourage improvidencewith all its attendant evils,--to injure the goodwhile relieving the bad,--to extinguish the spirit ofindependence on one side, and of charity on theother,--to encourage peculation, tyranny, and fraud,--and to increase perpetually the evil they aremeant to remedy,--but one plea is now commonlyurged in favour of a legal provision for the indi-gent.

This plea is, that every individual born into a statehas a right to subsistence from the state.

_'0 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

This plea, in its general application, is groundedon a false analogy between a state and its mem-bers, and a parent and his family.

A parent has a considerable influence over thesubsistence-fund of his family, and an absolute con-trol over the numbers to be supported by that fund ;whereas the rulers of a state, from whom a legalprovision emanates, have little influence over itssubsistence-fund, and no control whatever over thenumber of its members.

If the plea of right to subsistence be groundedon the faults of nahonal institutions, the right oughtrather to be superseded by the rectification of thoseinstitutions, than admitted at the cost of perpetuat-ing an institution more hurtful than all the otherscombined.

What then must be done to lessen the number of

the indigent now so frightfully increasing ?The subsistence-fund must be employed produc-

tively, and capital and labour be allowed to taketheir natural course : i.e. the pauper system must,by some means or other, be extinguished.

The number of consumers must be proportionedto the subsistence-fund. To this end, encourage-ments to the increase of population should be _'ith-drawn, and every sanction given to the preventivecheck; i.e. charity must be directed to-the en-lightenment of the mind instead of to the relief ofbodily wants.

If not adopted speedily, all measures will be toolate to prevent the universal prevalence of povertyin this kingdom, the legal provision for the indigentnow operating the extinction of our national re-sources at a perpetually increasing rate.

The objects of voluntary emig'ration, directed bythe state, arc three-ibld :--

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. JT_

1. To improve the condition of those who emi-grate, by placing them where they mayobtain subsistence at less cost than at home.

2. To improve the condition of those who re-main, by increasing the ratio of capital topopulation.

3. To mlprove the condition of the colonizedregaon.

To fulfil the first of the_e objects, the colonymust be so located as to insure health and abun-dance to its members ; and it must be so organized

as to secure the due co-operation of labour andcapital.

To fulfil the second object, the removal of eachindividual must be less costly than his maintenanceat home would be : and the selection mu_t be made

with a view to lessening the amount of human pro-ductiveness at home.

To fulfil the third object, the colonists must beselected with a view to their productl_eness, both asregards capital aml polmlation ;" which includes amoral fitness to compose an orderly society.

It follows fi'om all these considerations that a new

settlement should be composed of young, healthy,and moral persons ; that all should not be labourers,nor all capitalists ; and that there should be a suffi-cient concentration of their numbers on the new

lauds to ensure a facility of exchangea.

All other proposed remedies must be subjectedto, as this must be regulated by, the test, whetherthey assist in proportioning labour and capital.The Home Colonization system here fails, on the

double ground that it ensures a smaller return to

capital and labour than could be had abroad, andserves as a direct premium on population.

_'2 _fORAL OF I_IANY FABLES,

Home colonies may afford a temporary relief to aredundant population, and also increase the pro-ductiveness of the lands which they appropriate';but this is done by alienating capital from its naturalchannels; and with the certainty of ultimately in-juring society by increasing the redundancy ofpopulation over capital.

Home colonization then, though less injuriousthan the unproductive distribution of the charity-fund, is inferior to foreign colonization, inasmuchas the one yields temporary" benefit to a few at tileexpense of ultimate injury to many ; and the otherproduces permanent benefit to all.

All provisions for rewarding forethought andeconomy, and e_pecially all for the diffusion ofsound moral and pohtical knowledge, approvethemselves by this test. All contrivance andcare in the production and economy of capitalapprove themselves also; but Emigration isconspicuous in its merits, since it not only im-mediately reaches the seat of the evil in tilemother country, but affords the greatest of bless-ings to the colonized regions. If regulated bya due regard to the infallible test, it is scarcelypossible to conceive of an arrangement more aptto all the purposes of society. Where it hasfailed, the reason of failure has commonly beenthat one link in the chain of operating causeshas been wanting. Land and labourers cannotmutually prosper without the capital which hastoo often been deficient. We have not vet madethe experiment of sending out smaIl'societmscompletely organized, and amply provided to

'MORAL OF MANY FABLES. , 73.

settle down at once in a state of sufficient civili-zation to spare the mother-country all furtheranxiety about the expedition. It can be noobjection to this that it abstracts capital and themost useful species of labour from the mother-country: since the capital so sent out will yielda more rapid and ample increase to us in a newmarket for commerce than it could have dohe athome; and the labour is that which we leastwant at home,--however good its quality maybe,--and that which we most want in our posses-sions on the other side the world. Such an

organized society, however, would be able to beara much larger proportion of children than asimilar society could take charge of at home,--tlle labour of children being of as much morevalue than their maintenance abroad, as it is lessat home. If for every old person naturally belong-ing to such a company, left behind, two childrenwere taken out, this country would be im-mediately compensated for the abstraction ofprime labour, and a provision would be made forthe future contraction of the population. Alldetails, however, from the greatest to the least,will be arranged with infinitely less trouble thanour parochial mismanagements have cost nswhenw'e have once, as a nation, surveyed the drearyhaunts of our pauperized classes, and then takena flight in spirit to the fair regions abroad whichinvite their labour with a sure promise of richrecompense. The time must come wh_n it willbe a matter of wonder how we could so long beoppressed with a redundancy of labour at home,

•2_ n

74 MORAL OF bIAN_/' FABLES.

while our foreign lands were dreary only for wantof labour, while an open sea lay between, whilewe had shipping to spare to traverse it, and whilewe were spending nine millions a year in thefruitless support of our paupers, and as a premiumon the production of yet more and more labour.The best plea for us in that day will be that wedid not understand our own case. By tile timewe have spent nine millions, or the half of ninemillions, in relieving our labour market, we mayhave discovered how inferior is that superstitious,spurious charity wbich doles out bread at its owndoor to an unlawful petitioner because to givebread was once charity, and that enlightened,genuine benevolence which causes plenty tospring in tile far eorners of the world, nourishingat home file ancient household virtues which have

been well nigh starved among us, hut which arenot dead.

What decision does our test give out in regardto Ireland ? That, as a redundancy of populationis her universally acknowledged curse, it is un-reasonable to expect relief from the introductionof a legal etmrity,--the most efficacious of allpremiums on population. The conclusion is soobvious, that it can be got rid of only by provingeither that a redundant population is not the greatgrievance of Ireland, or first there may be a legalcharity which does not act as a premium on

! population. Where are tile materials for either" the one proof or the other

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 7_

Whatever affects the security of property, or in-tercepts the due reward of labour, impairs the sub-sistenee-fund by discouraging industry and fore-thought.

Partnership tenanteies affect the security of pro-perty by rendering one tenant answerable for theobligations of all his partners, while he has no con-trol over the management of their portions.

A gradation of landlords on one estate has thesame effect, by rendering one tenant liable to theclaims of more than one landlord.

The levying of fines on a whole district for anillegal practice going on in one part of it has thesame effect, by rendering the honest man liable tbrthe malpractices of the knave.

The imposition of a church establishment on thosewho already support another church, intercepts thedue reward of labour, by taking from the labourer aportion of his earnings for an object from which hederives no benefit.

The practice of letting land to the highest bidder,without regard to former service, or to the merits ofthe applicants, intercepts the due reward of thelabourer, by decreeing his gains to expire with hislease.

All these practices having prevailed in IaBLAND,her subsistence-fund is proportionably impaired,though the reduction is somewhat more than com-pensated by the natural growth of capital.

While capital has been growing much moreslowly than it ought, population has been increas-ing much more rapidly than the circumstances ofthe country have warranted; the consequences ofwhich are, extensive and appalling indigence, anda wide spread of the moral evils which attend it.

An immediate palliation of this indigence wouldbe the result of introducing a legal pauper-system

t_2

76 _IOUALOF _IANY FABLES.

into Ireland ; but it would be at the expense of anincalculable permanent increase of the evil.

To levy apoor-rate on the countl_- at large wouldbe impohtic, since it would only increase the pri-mary grievance of an insufficiency of capital, bycausing a further unproductive consumption of it.

To throw the burthen "of a pauper-system onabsentees would be especially unjust, since theybear precisely the same relation to the wealth oftheir country as its resident capitalists.

In the case of Ireland, as in all analagous cases,l_ermanent relief can be effected only by adjustingthe proportions of capital and population ; and tlusmust be attempted by means suited to her peculiarcircumstances.

The growth of capital should be aided by im-provements in agricultural and domestic economy,and by the removal of political grievances; fromwhich would follow a union in place of an oppositionof interests.

Population should be reduced within due limits,In the present emergency, by we[l-conducted

schemes of emigration ; andPermanently, by educating the people till they

shall have become qualified for the guardianship oftheir own interests.

A sameness in the natural laws of distributionexactly reverses the order of possession in newcountries, i. e., in those where capital aboundsin proportion to population. There the land-owner (if any one finds it worth his while to be

: a landowner without being either a capitalist ora labourer at the same time) gains no real renttill the best land is all under cultivation, and thenvery little till a third degree is resorted to. The

/_IORAL OF MANY FABLES, 77

capitalist, meanwhile, makes less than the la-bourer ; or would gain less if he were not, likethe landowner, a labourer also. Where labouris so dear, all are labourers ; and the labourer_by a very natural process, soon becomes a capi-talist and a landowiaer ; and then he may chanceto learn what a strange thing it seems to a manfrom the motherocountry to let land of a fine(_uality for no better rent than a small share oftile produce ; at_d how vexatious it is, after hav-ing reaped splendid returns to capital, to haveto pay away, in the purchase of labour, all hutlittle more than the ordinary profits of stock.

The want of a due consideration of the diffe-rence in relative condition of labourers at homeand labourers in new countries has led to someserious errors _ in the formation and execution

* It is incumbent on me to advert to the ill-success

of one method of supplying labour to the Australiancolonies, which I have represented in mueh too favourablea light in my tale of "Homes Abroad." I find that,though I have pointed out (pp. 54_ 55) the leadingobjections to the plan oF indenturing servants to colonialsettlers, I have represented the issue of such an experi-ment as more prosperous than it has been proved in fact.The true state of the ease will be learned from the

tollowing extract from "Papers lx_latin_ to the CrownLaalds and Emigration to New South Wales," printedby order of the Hol_se of Commons, October, 1831.

"The Emigrant_ in the cases to which we allude, hashound himself_ previously to his departure from this

country, to serve his employer for a time at wages which,though higher than those which he could have-obtainedat home_ were much below the ordinary rate in thecolony. No attempt has been made to render theadvantage obtained by the emph_yel' in this manner an

H 3

7_ ]_IORAL OF MANY FABLES.

i of some of our plans of colonization. Such a

i scheme as that of penal colonization could never

i equivalent for the expense he has incurred in carryingout the Emigrants ; and it can scarcely be doubted thati in many instances the bargain, if strictly adhered to,, would have been more than reasonably profitable to the

employer. Indeed it has been the principal fault ofthese arrangements that the engagement of the :Emigranthas not been on either side regarded as a mere under-taking to repay the expense incurred in his conveyance ;and hence he has often been led to look upon the trans-action as a disadvantageous hiring of himself, into which

t he had been misled by his ignorance of the orcumstancesof the place to which he was going. This has been the

t frequent cause of discontent on the part of indenturedi servants ; and their masters, unable to derive any

advantage from unwilling labourers, have found it more'_ for their interest to discharge these servants than to

insist on the right conveyed by their bond. It is obvious_ that no increased severity in the legal enactments for the, protection of contracts could prevent those which we

have described from being thus dissolved ; for the), havebeen so, not from any insufficiency in the obligations by

:_ which the :Emigrants have been bound, but from theimpossibility of rendering such obligations worth pre-

"i serving, where one of the parties strongly desires themi to be cancelled."--pp. 21, 22.

:i These objections apply only to cases of bindit_g for morethan the repayment of the expenses of removal to tt_ecolony. Next to the education of the people at home_

i there is no way in which charity can now operate sobeneficially as in making loans, under security of re-payment, to enable working men, and yet more workingwomen, to transport themselves to our Australian colonies ;

t and by diffusing, as widely as possible, correct informa-tion respecting the condition and prospects of emigrants

_. to our North American colonies. This correct informa-tion, which is to the last degree interesting, may be

: obtained from the Papers above referred toj and the

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 79

}lave been adopted if the case of tile workingclass in-both countries had been understood.

Besides the many other objections which mightbe and have been forcibly urged, there must re-main the insurmountable one that labour is bet-

ter rewarded in a new colony than at home. It

does not appear that any arbitrary severity, short

"Reports of the :Emigration Commissioners, for 1832 ;printed by order of the House of Commons." :Everyactive philanthropist ought to possess himself of thecontents of these papers. The Report, dated 1832,contains the following.

"Before we close this account of our proceedingsregarding 2_TewSouth _rales and Van Diemen's Laud,we must observe that the value of that which has beenaccomplished cannot be justly estimated by a mere

: reference to the number'already gone out. The generalscopeand tendencyof our measuresmust be takenintoaccountj as well as the importance, in an endeavour todirect emigration to a quarter comparatively new, ofhaving succeeded in making a com_;'lencement. 1Por_afterthe impulse has onee been given towards countries reallyadapted to emigration, the letters of the settlers them-selves, more perhaps than the most elaborate statementsfrom authority, serve to maintain and propagate thedisposition to resort to the same quarter. Although,therefore_ the measures that have been adopted this yearmay be limited in their immediate influence, and it maybe also impossible to predict with certainty their ulteriorresults, yet, at leastj they are of such a nature that_ if

! successful_ they may serve as the foundation of a systemsufficient for many years to prevent the progress of theAustralian colonies from being retarded by the want ofan industrious population adequate to the developmentof their resources." (p. 6.) And the mother-country_ wemay- add_ from being impeded_ by an over-crowded popula-tion at home, in her efforts to exalt the social andmoral condition of her mighty family.

80 _IORALOF _IANY FASLLS.

of the infliction of such life-long misery as nocrime can deserve, can counteract the naturallaw by which the labourer is more prosperous inour penal colonies than in England. They areplaces of privilege, and the carrying him thereis putting him in a condition of privilege, sooneror later, however severely we may punish himfor any terminable period. This is so notoriouslythe case, that it has become matter of very seriousconsideration how the lot of the convict can berendered harder, and be made known at home tobe so ; and arrangements have been made, withina short period, bv which the disproportion in thelot of the innocent and the guilty is considerablylessened. Still, however far the convict may_beplaced below the virtuous emigrant in the _cal_ofeomtbrt, no power can, in the present state ofour labour-market, prevent his being much betteroff than the independent labourer at home. Thepower of rulers may ordain chains, whipping, andother penalties to the convict ; but it cannot pre-vent his having, during a pressing demand forhis labour, that abundance of the necessaries oflife which the virtuous labourer cannot obtain at

home. Bob Castle _ would not now, perhaps,he able to purchase an estate on which his honestbrother Frank was a labourer ; but Bob, howeverhe might have been punished for seven or four-teen years, could not but have a fairer prospectbefore him al the end of that time than honest

Frank would have had in England. This neces-

* See Homes Abroad.

I_IORAL OF _IANY FABLES. 81

sity forms, of itself, a conclusive argument againstpenal colonization as a secondary punishment.That mode of punishment can never commandrespect or success which wanders so far from theprinciple of retribution as to inflict studiedmiseries as a set-off against advantages whichcannot be excluded.

The objects of penal colonization are--1. The security of society by the removal of the

offender..'2.The security of society by the effect of his

example.3. The reformation of the offender.

There has hitherto been an entire failure of allthese objects : and no wonder ; since,--

1. The offender is only transferred from oneportion of society to another ; and besides,frequently returns to his old haunts.

2. H_s punishment, as far as it is punishment,takes place at too great a distance to beconspicuous as a warning ; and in as faras his lot does not involve punishment, theeffect of his example is precisely the re-verse of what is desired.

3. Our convict arrangements tend to the fur-ther corruption of the offender, by lettinghim experience a great improvement inhis condition as a direct consequence of"his crimes.

The junction of penal with voluntary emigrationtends equally to disappoint the purposes of the one,and to extinguish the benefits of the other ; sinceconvict labourers find themselves in a state of pri-vilege, in a re,on where their labour procur_4hemlarge rewards ; and new settlers find their commu-

8_ _IORAL OF MANY FABLES.

nity deeply injured by the vice and disease eonse-quent on the introduction of a convict population.

Before closing this part, it may be well to ob-serve that much vain reluctance to acknowledgethe two grand principles which primarily regulatethe distribution of wealth, arises from too smallan allowance having been asked for subordinateinfluences, which may justify a much greater de-gree of hopefulness respecting tile condition ofan advaueed country than stone economists haveventured to indulge. It is no wonder that thekind-hearted turn away, and refuse to listen to adoctrine which is thought to forbid much hopethat the whole of any society can be comfortablyprovided with the neeessaries of life. It is nowonder that the timid cease from trying to lopoff evils, if they must believe that every head ofthe social hydra will grow again,--that for everyredundancy drawn offthere will be a speedy over-filling. All experience of humanity contradictssuch forebodings : and, though it would assuredlybe our duty to make our own generation happierthan the last, even under the certainty that thenext must fall back again, it is much more ani-mating to believe, as we are justified in doing,that every advance is a pledge of a further ad-vance ; that every taste of conffort, generated tothe poor man by his own exertions, stimulatesthe appetite for more. It has ever been foundthat, when men have learned to prefer wheatenhi:cad to potatoes, it is more likely that theirchildren should be taught to seek butchers' meat

MORA.L OF _IANV _'ABI,E_. _3

than allowed to fall back to potatoes. The fatherwho has worked his way up into a glazed andtiled cottage, brings up his children to fear themud hovel in which they were horn. If we dobut apply ourselves to nourish the taste for com-fort in the poor,--to take for granted the most,instead of the least, that they ought to require,there is little fear but that, whenever circum-stances allow, they will fall into our way ofthinking, and prefer a home of comfort, earnedby forethought and self-denial, to herding toge-ther in a state of reckless pauperism. Withevery increase of resources, let a vigorous exer-tion be made to rouse the complacency and exaltthe tastes of the labouring class, and it willassuredly he found, in the interval before a newaccess of labour can be brought into the market,that the condition of the class has improved as amatter of theory, as welt as practice, and that itmust go hard with them but they will keep it up.

All experience warrants this statement. Therecan be no question that the preventive checkhas largely superseded the positive in all ad-vancing societies. There can be no doubt of theincreased providence of the nfiddling classes, andthe enlargement of the domestic requirements ofthe poor, even though wars, famine, and pesti-lence have nearly ceased to make the awfulvacancies in which the wants and desires of thesurvivors could expand. Though in some un-happy districts where the visitations of want haveextinguished the moral check, multitudes stillherd togefller, more like brute_ than human

$4 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

beings, it is certain that there is a larger demandamong the working classes of England for bettertbod, clothing, habitations, and furniture, thantheir fathers thought of requiring. If this hastaken place notwithstanding all the bad policy,public and private, with which we have weakenedthe spirit and the power of independence, thereis ample reason for confidence in an acceleratedprogress in proportion as public and private in-fluence shall work in an opposite direction. Sinceevery one can, many will assist in this noblework; assured that not a single effort can belost, and that its successful result will extend farbeyond the present generation. Few are nowfound to advocate that species of prospectivebenevolence which acts by long-reaching pe-cuniary bequests; but it does not follow thatbenevolence may not be prospective. Let itextend its view to the remotest ages within kenof the human imagination. Let it do this bypromoting the welfare of tt_e parents of futuregenerations ;--a wide field enough, if we livedbut for charity.

(_5)

PART III.

ThE total wealth "of society being distributedamong three classes, according to the principlesabove announced, the next process is the exchangeof commodities by individuals for purposes ofindividual enjoyment.

The complication of this process arises chieflyfrom the diversity of production which takesplace on tile earth, occasioning not only a widedifference in the amount of labour required toproduce the same results in different regions, buta perpetual variegation and augmentation of com-modities, which affect the demand, and renderuncertain the transactions of trade.

This complication, however, involves no dis-astrous perplexity, unless meddled with by powerswhich bear no relation to it. All commodities

will declare their own value, and obtain equiva-lents, to the ultimate satisfaction of the exchang-ing parties, if they are left to themselves ; butwhen any power, which cannot regulate humanwants and wishes, interferes to prescribe whatprovision shall be made for those wants and.wishes, there is not only a certainty that therelative values of commodities will be temporarilyderanged, to the disadvantage of one of the ex-changing parties, but an uncertainty when the_aatural relation of values _¥ill be restored, and

I

86 MORAL Ol,_ MANY FABLES.

whether disorder will not first spread into everyother department of exchange. Since humanlabour is the universal commodity which isbrought to market, to be given and taken underall forms, (since capital is only hoarded labour,)there is no safety in ticketing any one commodityas containing more labour than it naturally in-eludes, and thus destroying its balance with therest, to the injury of its seller's credit, and itsbuyer's interest. This is what is done by every.government which presumes to interfere with thebarter of individ_tals, or authorizes such inter-ference. The duty of government is preciselythe reverse ;--to secure the freedom of exchangeas carefully as tile freedom of labour, in the thllassurance that it cannot determine relative valuestill it can determine the amount of labour and the

extent of human wants in every region of theearth. Th_s it may do when it has masteredthe chemical and mechanical constitution of theglobe, when it may not only gauge the rainin every region, but_ appoint the proportion ofits fall.

There are two kinds of Value : value in use, andvalue m exchange.

Articles of the greatest value in use may havenone in exchange : as they may be enjoyed withoutlabour ; and it is labour which confers exchangeablevalue.

This is not the less true for capital as well aslabour being employed in production ; for capital ishoarded labour.

When equal quantities of any two articles require

_oaxL OF _XANY FASLES. 87

an equal amount of labour to produce them, theyexchange exaetl_ a_ainst one another. If one re-quh'es more labour than the other, a smaller quan-tity of the one exchanges against a larger quantityof the other.

If it were otherwise, no one would bestow a largerquantity of labour ibr a less return ; and the articlerequiring the most labour would cease to be pro-duced.

Exchangeable value, therelbre, naturally dependson cost of production.

Naturally, but not universally; for there areinfluences which cause temporary variations in ex-changeable value.

These are, whatever circumstances affect demand

and supply. But these can act only temporardy ;because the demand of any procurable article createssupply : and the factitious value conferred by scarcitysoon has au end.

When this end has arrived, cost of productionagain determines exchangeable value.

Its doing so may, therefore, stand as a generalrule.

Though labour, immediate and hoalxled, is thereeulator, it is not the measure of exchangeablevaYue; for the sufficient reason, that labour itselfis perpetually varying in quality and quantity, fromthere being no fixed proportion between immediateand hoarded labour.

Since labour, the primary regulator, cannot serveas a measure of exchangeable value, none of theproducts of labour can serve as such a measure.

There is, therefore, no measure of exchangeablevalue.

Such a measure is not needed ; as a due regula-tion of the supply of labour, and the allowance offree scope to the principle of competition ensure

I2

_qS MORALOF MANYFABLES.

suMcient stability of exchangeable value for allpractical purposes.

In these requisites are included security of pro-perty, and freedom of exchange, to which politicaltranquillity and legislative impartiality are essential.

Price is the exponent of excha_geable value.Nalural or necessary price,--regulated by cost

of production,--mcludes tile wages of tile labourer,and the profits of the capitalist.

Market price varies from natural price with varia-tions of demand and supply, and in proportion tothe oppressiveness of pubhc burdens and commer-cial restrictions.

The mere nearly and permanently market pricesapproach natural prices, the more prosperous is thestate of commerce; and the two most essentialrequisites to this prosperity are social tranciuillityand legislative impartiality.

The ancient error, that some mysterious qualityinherent in gold and silver money constituted itwealth, almost to the exclusion of every othercommodity, is now so universally dismissed by allwho know anything of our science, that there isno occasion to controvert it further than by pre-senting the appropriate Summary of Principles ;and the kindred modern error, that an enlargementof its quantity can do more than give a tempo-rary, and probably hurtful, stimulus to industry,requires now no more than a similar exposure.The sense of the country has lately been takenon this question ; and the result proves that thereis prevalent a sufficient knowledge of the philo-sophy and fact of the case to encourage a hopethat no such hazardous sport with the circu]ating

MORAL OF MANY FABLES. 89

medium as the country has previously sufferedfrom will be again attempted. The fate of theBerkeley* f,tmily, in consequence of actions onthe currency, is only one instance from one class.A long series of sad stories might be told ofsufferers of every lank, whose partial prosperity,enjoyed at the expense of one another's ruin,was soon swallowed up in the destruction whichuniversally attends a shock to public credit. Timinjured might be found dispersed through everydwelling iu the land; and, however loudly thericher might complain of the magnitude of theirlosses, ttle most cruelly injured were those whohad the least opportunity of accounting for theirgains and their losses, and therefore the leastpower of meeting the pressure of circumstancesby _prudence and forethought.• To stimulate the production of labour bv theincrease of the circulating medium, the fruits ofwhich must be wrested away by an inevitablecontraction, is a policy whose glory is not to becoveted ; _nd surely no statesman will be foundto adventure it till the last tradition of the con-

sequent woes of our working-classes shall havedied away. By that time, it is probable that thedanger of such recurrence will be obviated bythe adoption of some principle of security, whichwill give society the advantage of a free trade inmoney. It must be long before this can takeplace ; for it must be long before the values ofcommodities are allowed to adjust themselves ;

Berkeley the Banker,13

90 MORAL OF MAN_" FABLES.

and money must, from its importance, be verycautiously and gradually committed to the equal-izing influences of the natural laws of demand.:But, however long it may be, the woes of pastconvulsions will not till then be forgotten. Thattile time of arbitrary interference will, however,cease, can scarcely be doubted, if the followingbe true principles.

In exchanging commodities for one another di-rectly, that is, in the way of barter, much time islost, and trouble incurred, before the respectivewants of the exchanging parties can be supplied.

This trouble and waste may be avoided by theadoption of a medium of exchange,--that is, a com-modity generally agreed upon, which, in order toeffect an exchange between two other commodities,is first received in exchange for the one, and thengdven in exchange for the other.

This commodity is Money.The great requisites in a medium of exchange

are, that it should be--What all sellers are willing to receive ;JCapable of' division into convenient portions ;_Portable, from including great value in small

bulk ;-Indestructible, and little liable to fluctuations

of value.Gold and silver unite these requisites in an un-

equalled degree, and have also the desir:able qualityof beauty ; gold and silver have therefore formedthe principal medium of exchange hither_ adopted;usually prepared, by an appointed authoi_ty, in theform most suitable for the purposes of exchange, L1order to avoid the inconveniences of ascertaining

_loe,tL o_" SIANY F_nLrS. 91

the value of the medium on every occasion of pur-chase.

Where the supply of money is left unrestricted,its exchangeable value will be ultimately deter-mined, like that of all other commodities, by theco_t of production.

Where the supply is restricted, its exchangeablevalue depends on the proportion of the demand tothe supply.

In the tbrmer case, it retains its character of acommodity, serving as a standard of value in pre-ference to other commodities only in virtue of itssuperior natural requisites to that object.

In the latter case, it ceases to be a commodity,and become_ a mere ticket of transference, or arbi-trary sign of value ; and then the natural requisitesabove described become of comparatively little im-portance.

The quality by which money passes from handto hand with little injury enables it to compensateinequahties of supply by the slackened or accele-rated speed of its circulation.

The rate of circulation serves as an index of the

state of supply, and therefore tends, where no re-striction exists, to an adjustment of the supply tothe demand.

_¥here restriction exists, the rate of circulationindicates the degree of derangement introducedamong the elements of exchangeable value, huthas no permanent influence in its rectification. "

In proportion as the processes of exchange be-come extrusive and complicated, all practicable eco-

nomy of time, trouble, and expense, in the use of acirculating medium, becomes desirable.

Such economy is accomplished by making ae-knowledglncnt of debt circulate in lflace of tile

92 _IORAL oF _AlaY FABLES.

actual payment,--that is, substituting credit, as re-presented by bank paper, for gold money.

The adoption of paper money saves time, bymaking the largest _ums a_ easily payable as thesmallest.

It saves trouble, by being more easily transfer-able than metal money.

It saves expense, by its production being lesscostly than that of metal money, and by its settingfree a quanhty of gold to be used in other articlesof production.

A further advantage of paper money is, that itsdestruction causes no dlmfimtlon of real wealth, likethe destruction of gold and silver coin; the onebeing only a representative of value, the other alsoa commodity.

The remaining requisites of a medium of ex-change--viz., that it _hould be what all sellers a_'ewilling to receive, and htfle liable to fluctuations ofvalue, axe not inherent in paper as they are in me-tallic money.

But they may be obtained by rendering papermoney convertible into metalhc money, by limitingin other ways the quantity issued, and by guardingagainst forgery.

Great evils, in the midst of many advantages,have arisen out of the use of paper money, from theneglect of measures of security, or from the adoptionof such as have proved false. Issues of inconver-tible paper money have been allowed to a large ex-tent, unguarded by any restrictions as to the quan-tity issued.

As the issuing of paper money is a profitablebusiness, the issue naturally became e_oessiv_when the check of convertibility was removed,while banking credit was not backed by sufficientsecurity.

The immediate consequences of a superabua-

MOR,_.LCF M_NY FABLES. 93

dance of money arc, a rise of prices, an alterationin the conditions of contracts, and a consequentinjury to commercial credm

Its ulterior consequences are, a still strongershock to commercial credit, the extensive rum ofindividuals, and an excessive contraction of the cur-

rency, yet more injurious than its excessive exp:m-sion.

These evils arise from buyers and sellers bearingan unequal relation to the quantity of money in themarket.

If all sold as much as they bought, and no more,and if the prices of all commodities rose and fell inexact proportion, all exchanges would be affectedalike by the increase or diminution of the supply ofmoney. But this is an impossible case ; and there-tbre any action on the currency involves injury tosome, while it affords advantage to others.

A sudden or excessive contraction of the currencyproduces some effects exactly the reverse of theeffects of a sudden or excessive expansion. Itlowers prices and vitiates contracts, to the loss ofthe opposite contracting party.

But the infliction of reverse evils does not com-

pensate for the former infliction. A second actionon the currency, though unavoidably following thefirst, is not a reparation, but a new misfortune.

Because the parties who are now enriched areseldom the same that were impoverished by aformer change, and vice vers_ ; while all sufferfrom the injuw to commercial credit which followsupon every arbitrary change.

All the evils which have arisen from acting arbi-trarily upon the currency prove that no such arbi-trary action can repair past injuries ; while it mustinevitably produce further mischief.

They do not prove that liability to fluctuation isan inherent quality of paper money, and that a me-

_}4 MORAL OF M&NY F&BLES.

tallie currency is therefore the best circulating me-dium.

They do prove that commercial prosperity dependson the natural laws of demand and supply beingallowed to work freely m relation to the etreulatingmedium.

The means of securing their full operation remainto be decided upon and tried.

Nations exchange commodities as individuals do,for mutual accommodation, each imparting of itssuperfluity to obtam that in whirh it is deficient.

The imparting is therefore only a means of ob-taining : exportation is the means of obtaining im-portation-the end ibr whmh the traffic is instituted.

The importation of money into a country wheremoney is deficient is desLrable on the same prin-ciple which renders desirable the supply of any de-ficient commodity.

The importation of money into a country wheremoney is not deficient is no more desirable than itis to create an excess of any other commodity.

That money is the commodity roost generallybought and sold is no reason for its being a moredesirable article of importation than commoditieswhich are as much wanted in the country whichimports it.

That money is the commodity most generallybought and sold is a reason for its being the com-modity fixed upon for measuring the relativeamounts of other articles of national interchange.

Money bearing different denominations in thedifferent trading countries, a computation of therelative values of these denominations was made in

the infancy of commerce, and the result expressedin terms which are retained through all changes inthe value of these denominations.

MO_AL OF MANY FABLES. 95

The term by which, in each country, the originalequal proportion was expressed is adopted as thefixed point of measurement, called the par of ex-change ; and any variation in the relative amountof the total money debts of trading nations is calleda variation from par.

This variation is of two kinds--nominal and real.

The nominal variation ti'om par is caused by analteration in the value of the currency of any coun-

try, which, of course, destroys the relative proportionof its denominations to the denominations of tllecurrency of other countries ; but it does not affectthe amount of commodities exchanged.

The real variation from par takes place when anytwo countries import respectively more money andless of other commodities, or less money and moreof other commodities.

This kind of variation is sure to correct itself,since the countrv which receives the larger propor-tion of money w{ll return it for other commoditieswhen it becomes a superfluity; and the country"which receives the smaller proportion of money willgladly import more as it becomes deficient.

The real variation from par can never, therefore,exceed a certain limit.

This limit is determined by the cost of substitut-ing for each other metal money and one of its re-presentatives--viz., that species of paper currencywhich is called Bills of Exchange.

When this representative becomes scarce in pro-portion to commodities, and thereby mounts up toa higher value than the represented metal money,u_th the cost of transmission added, metal moneyis transmitted as a substitute for bills of exchange,and the course of exchange is reversed, and re-stored to par.

Even the range of variation above described is

96 MORALOF MANY FABLES.

much contracted by the operations of dealers inbills of exchange, who equahze their value by trans-mitting those of all countries from places wherethey _re abundant to places where they _re scarce.

A sel_-balancing power being thus inherent inthe entire system of commercial exchange, all ap-prehensions about the results of its unimpeded ope-ration are absurd.

The crying philosophers of all times havemourned over the pertinacity of men and ofnations in clinging to errors through all thesufferings thence arising; the suffering beingascribed to " fate, or Providence, or some-thing,"--to any thing rather than to fllelr fa-vourite errors. The laughing philosophers can-not deny this ; but, looking farther, they see that,error by error being exploded at length, there isno return to that which is clearly seen to be thecause of suffering,--unless such an experimen-tal brief return as can only serve to confirm thetruth. Commerce has now been instituted for a

longer succession of ages than we have any dis-tinct knowledge of;--ever since the first root-digger exchanged his vegetable food for thegame of the first sportsman. From that timetill now, an error has subsisted among all classesof exchangers which has caused enough of pri-vation, of ill-will, of oppression and fraud, of war,pestilence and famine, to justify the tears of along train of crying philosophers. But the errorhas been detected. Philosophers have laid theirfinger upon it; the press has denounced it;senates are preparing to excommunicate it ; and

MOR%L OF MANY FABLES. 97

its doom is sealed. This error is,--that com-merce is directly productive. Hence arises thebelief, that if one party gains by commerce,another must lose; and hence have arisen theefforts of clansmen to confine their exchangeswithin their own clan ; of villagers within theirown village ; of citizens within their own state ;of a nation within its own empire. Hence itarises that the inhabitants of one district have

been afraid to enjoy the productions of any otherdistrict, and that they have been doomed bytheir rulers to pine and die in occasional dearth,and to quarrel with occasional superabundancewhen they might have had plenty in the one case,and an influx of new enjoyments in the other.Hence have arisen some of the most humblingscenes of human vice which have disgraced tilespecies,

The atrocious practice of wrecking was for-merly pursued, not only as a method of robbery,but as a means of impairing tile commercial re-sources of foreigners. There was connivanceat pilots who ran a rich vessel upon rocks ; andprotection for the country people who gave theirexertions to destroy instead of to save. If thecargo went to the bottom, something was sup-posed to be gained to the country, though thosewho looked upon ttle disaster were disappointedof their plunder. Next came the ridiculous andcruel practice of making aliens engaged in com-merce answerable for the debts and offences ofeach other ; and as a kind of set-off against theadvantages which they were supposed to take

K

_[_ I_IORAL OF MANY FABLE_.

from the people among whom they lived, theywere compelled to pay much heavier duties thannatives for all articles of import and export.

The necessity thus arose for commercial trea-ties which should ensure the safety and propertreatment of commercial agents when any twopowers agreed to e_:change good offices. Ed-bard II. made an agreement with Yenice that itsmerchants and mariners should be permitted, forten years, to come and go, and sell their mer-chandise in security, wittlout having either theirpersons or goods stopped on account of otherpeople's crimes or debts. From the time of suchpartial relaxation,--sueh narro_ openings to aforeign trade,--the wants of the multitude ofeach civilized people have forced one after ano-ther of the barriers raised by national jealousy,while all parties remained under the influence ofthe error that commerce is directly productive,and of course an advantage to be denied toenemies, except when a very hard bargain canbe driven with them. Perhaps the most curiousspecimens in existence of attempts at mutualoverreaching, of laborious arrangement to se-cure what must naturally happen, and of anexpensive mid tyrannical apparatus for achievingwhat is impossible, may be found in the com-mercial treaties from the infancy of commercetill now. Tile only idea which never seems tohave struck the negotiators is, that commerce isvaluable,--not because production takes placein the mere exchange of commodities,_but be-cause systematic exchange facilitate_ the most

'_OaAL OF MANYFABLES. 99

extensive division of labour and the closest

economy of capital,--advantages which must beshared by both if experienced by either of tileexchanging parties. On the same principle thatthe shoemaker makes no hats, and the hatter noshoes, and that both find an advantage in sup-plying each other, without any new productarising from the mere act of exchange, tilegrowers of tea and the makers of hardware re-spectively profit by supplying each other; andthey can afford to employ an intermediate class,the merchants,--to conduct their traffic, sincethey can go on preparing their tea and grindingtheir cutlery, while ttle process of exchange isbeing transacted. The saving of capital ismutual also. It must be mutual and incalculable

as long as the regions of the earth differ in theirproductions, yielding a superabundance in oneplace of some necessary or comfort which israre in another. No commercial treaty bearsthe least reference to the obvious final purposeof all commerce ;--that the greatest number shallobtain the largest amount of enjoyment at theleast cost. Such a recognition of the ultimateprinciple would, indeed, be inconsistent with thevery existence of commercial treaties, except aafar as they relate to the personal protection oftraders. But, while the people of each countryhave shown the most decided inclination to ob-tain more and more of what they cannot produceat home, the aim of g_ernments, and generallyof merchants, has _,been to sell as much as pos-sible to other nations; to take from them as

_2

]00 _IORAL OF MANY FABI,ESo

little as possible but money; and to get thegreatest possible quantity of that. In further-anee of this view, money has been taken fromllle people at large, and given to theirmerehantsto tempt them t_ go and sell at a loss, ratherthan not get hold of foreign money ; and again,money has been exacted from foreigners whocome to sell their goods in our ports. Nothingis gained by this to the nation, as the foreignersmust be rel_aid these duties as well as the cost oftbeir articles; and it is clear to every observerhow much is lost to all the parties concerned. Yetsuch is the false principle on which commercialtreaties have hitherto been founded. This child's-

play of universal circumvention is pursued lessvigorously than it was ; and some of the playersare so tired of the wasteful and wearying sportas to be ready to give it up : but, owing to ttlefalse belief that no one could yield without the rest,tile absurdity has endured longer than mighthave been expected.

It was not perceived, till lately, that it is agood thing to any nation, as it would be to anyman, to get what it wants, even if it be com-pelled to pay in money when it had rather payin goods : especially when it is certain, from theascertained self-balancing quality of money, thatit will soon flow in from some other quarter inexchange for the goods wanted to be sold. Whenso plain a truth as this is once experienced, itcannot but spread ; and fewer examples will behenceforth seen of nations keeping themselvespoor, lest their neighbouriug customers should

_IORAL OF I_IANY FABLES. ]0|

grow rich. How rapidly such truth runs, whenonce sent off on its career, may be seen from thefollowing facts : it being borne in mind that na-tions are educated by the experience of centu-ries, as men are of years.

In 1703, a commercial treaty was concludedbetween Great Britain and Portugal, which wasfor many years lauded by the British as being inthe highest degree iavourable to the interests ofher manufacturing classes, at a very slight ex-pense. Our woollens were then excluded fromPortugal. Mr. Methuen, who managed tiletreaty, obtained a free admission for them, inreturn for a concession which was considered a

mere nothing in comparison with the advantageobtained. It was merely promised that port-wine should be admitted into Great Britain at

one-third less duty thaaa French wines. As forthe woollens, their admission into Portugal duty-free was a much greater advantage to the Portu-guese than to us. They obtained cheap an arti-cle which they very much wanted, and which wewere sure of selling in one quarter or another, ifwe could produce it at such a cost as made itsproduction worth while. As for the wine,--thePm'tugnese and tile British have both been suf-fering ever since for the arbitrary preferencegiven to that of Portugal over that of France.Portugal has, and has always had, too little capi-tal for tile capabilities of the country and thewants of the people. By the monopoly of theBritish market being given to Portugal, too largea prol_Jrtion of its small capital has been devoted

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102 MOaALor M:_,_YrABL_S.

to the growth of wine, and file whole country isin a more backward state than it would havebeen if its capital had been allowed to find itsown channels. We, meanwhile, lost the Frenchmarket for our woollens, brought upon ourselvesretaliatory restrictions on otimr articles, and werecompelled to drink inferior wine at a greater costthan if the trade had been left to itself. France

grew more pettish ; we grew resentful, and raisedthe duties again, and again, and again. Thou-sands, who had been fond of French wines,found that they could afford the indulgence nolonger, and took to port. Thousands more,who had drunk port because they could not affordFrench wines, left off drinking wine at all. Inthree _/ears tile revenue from the wine-duties felloff by more than 350,000/., while the naturallywine-drinking population was increasing. Ttlerichest of our citizens, to whom the price of wineis not a very important consideration, had theircause of complaint. Guernsey was all this timereceiving small quantities of wine, and sendingout large quantities. A prosperous manufactureof wines was carried on there ; and no gentlemancould tell how much sloe-juice, apple-juice, andbrandy he might be drinking under the name ofwine. There is no good reason why a day-labourer should not drink French wines at his

dinner instead of beer, if they are equally cheap ;and no one knows how cheap they might havebeen by this time, if they had been allowed theirfair chance ; and tbe cheaper, and therefore themore abundant, those wines, the larger must be

I_IOllAL OF 31ANY FAILLES. ] 03

the quantity of our goods taken by the French illexchange. As it is, the Portuguese have profitedwhere we meant they should not, and sufferedwhere we meant riley should be permitted toprofit. Our Government has suffered a diminu-tion of revenue ; our rich men have drunk adul-terated wines; our middling classes have beenobliged to put up with dear port-wine or none ;our working classes have been debarred fromhaving wine at all, and have been shut out formore than a hundred years from one of the largest

: markets where their labour might have foundits recompense.

_ Such are some of the consequences of thefamous Methuen treaty, which was, for a consi-derable length of years, extolled as a model ofcommercial negotiation. _These consequences,and others which followed similar blunders,

wrought at length their natural effect upon theminds of those primarily interested in the princi-ples and methods of commercial policy. On the

l 8th of May, 1820, the following :petition from

the merchants of London was presented to theItouse of Commons. It was signed by all theprincipal merchants of London ;--a class whoseopinions on this question could not but be respect-fully regarded, it"they had been announced withless dignity and precision than we find in thismemorable address. The time may and willcome when its propositions will be regarded asa set of truisms scarcely worthy of announce-

__ m_nt under such circumstances of formality ; but: it should in fairness be remembered in those days

10_ _IORAL OF MANY FABLES.

that it was drawn up at tile very period when silkand tobacco were being smuggled into hundredsof creeks along our shores ; when bread and winewere taxed for purposes of unjust protection athome, and wicked oppression abroad ; and whenour houses and ships were being built of badwood at a higher cost than need have been paidfor the best, in order to favour a colony which,after all, would flourish much more through ourprosperity ttian at our e:_pense. _o change oftimes and convictions can impair the honour dueto those who concurred in tim following peti-tion :--

"To the Honourable the Commons, &c., the Peti-tion of the Merchants of the City of London.

" Sheweth,"That foreign commerce is eminently conducive

to the wealth and prosperity of a country, byenabling it to import the commodities for the pro-duetion of which the soil, climate, capital, andiudustry of other countries arc best calculated, andto export, in payment, those articles for which itsown situation is better adapted.

"That freedom from restraint is calculated to _vethe utmost extension to foreign trade, and the bestdirection to the capital and industry of the country.

"That the maxim of buying in the cheapestmarket , and selhng in the dearest, which regulatesevery merchant in his individual d_atings, is strictlyapplicable, as the best rule for the trade of thewhole nation.

"That a policy founded on these principles wouldrender the commerce of the world an interchangeof mutual advantages, and diffuse an increase ofwealth and enjoyments among the inhabitants ofeach state,

r_IORh[ OF _IAN¥ FABLES. 103

" " That, unfortunately, a policy the very reverse ofthis has been and is more or less adopted and actedupon by the government of this and every othercountry ; each trying to exclude the productions ofother countries, with the specious and well-meantdesign of eucoura_ng its own productions : thusinlh(iting on the bulk of its subjects, who areconsumers, the necessity of submitting to privationsin the quantity or quality of commodities ; and thusrendering what ought to be the source of mutualbenefit and of harmony among states, a constantlyrecurring occasion of jealousy and hostility.

"' That the prevailing prejudices in favour of theprotective or restrictive system-may be traced to theerroneous supposition that every importation offoreign commodities occasions a diminution or dis-couragement of our own productions to the sameextent; whereas it may be clearly shown, that,although the particular description of productionwhich could not stand against unrestrained foreigncompetition would be discouraged, yet, as no impor-tation could be continued for any length of timewithout a corresponding exportation, direct or in-direct, there would be an encouragement for thepurpose of that exportation, of some other produe.tion to which our situation might be better suited ;thus affording at least an equal, and probably agreater, and certainly a more beneficial, employmentto our own capital and labour.

"That of the numerous protective and prohibitoryduties of our commercial code, it may be provedthat, while all operate as a very heavy tax on the

community at large, very few are of any ultimatebenefit to the classes m whose favour they wereoriginally instituted, and none to the extent of theloss occasioned by them to other classes.

"That among the other evils of the restrictive orprotective system, not the least is that tile artificial

106 MOR_L OF MANY FABLES.

protection of one branch of industry or source ofproduction against foreign competition, is set up asa ground of claim by other branches tbr similarprotection; so that, if the reasomng upon _hlchthese restrictive or prohibitory regulations arefounded were followed out consistently, it would notstop short of excluding us from all foreign commercewhatsoever. And the same train of argument,which, with corresponding prohibinous and protectiveduties, should exclude us t_om foreign trade, mightbe brought forward to justify the re-enactment ofrestrictions upon the interchange of productions(unconnected with public revenue) among thekingdoms composing the union, or among thecounties of the same kingdom.

"That an investigation of the effects of therestrictive system at this time is peculiarly calledfor, as it may, m the opinion of your petitioners, leadto a strong presumption that the distress which nowso generally prevails is considerably aggravated bythat system ; and that some relief may be obtainedby the earliest practicable removal of such of therestraints as may be shown to he most injurious tothe capital and industry of the community, and tobe attended with no compensating benefit to thepublic revenue.

" That a declaration against the anti-commercialprinciples of our restrictive system is of the moreimportance at the present juncture ; inasmuch as,iu several instances of recent occurrence, the

merchants and manufacturers of foreign countrieshave assailed their respective governments withapplications for further protective or prohibitoryduties and regulations, urging the example andauthority of this country, against which they arealmost exclusively directed, as a sanction for thepolicy'of such measures, And certainly, if the

MORAL OF MANY FABL_. ]07

reasoning upon which our restrictions have beendefended is worth anything, it will apply in behalfof the regulations of foreign states against us.They insist on our superiority in capital andmachinery, as we do upon their comparative exemp-tion from taxation ; and with equal foundation.

" That nothing would tend more to counteractthe commercial hostility of foreign States, than theadoption of a more enlightened and more con-ciliatory policy on the part of this country.

" That although, as a matter of mere diplomacy,it may sometimes answer to hold the removal ofparticular 1)rohihltions, or high duties, as dependingupon corresponding concessions by other states inour favour, it does not follow that we should con-tinue our restrictions in cases where the desired

concessions on their part cannot be obtained. Ourrestrictions would not be the less prejudicial to ourown capital and industry, because other govern-ments persisted in preserving impolitic regulations.

"That, upon the whole, the most liberal wouldprove to be the most pohtic course on such occa-sions.

"That, independent of the direct benefit to bederived by this country on every occasion of suchconcession or relaxation, a great incidental objectwould be gained, by the recognition of a soundprinciple or standard, to which all subsequent ar-rangements might be referred ; and by the salutaryinfluence whict_'a promulgation of such just views,by the legislature and by the nation at large, couldnot fail to have on the policy of other states.

"That in thus declaring, as your petitioners do,their conviction of the imp61icy, and injustice of therestrictive system, and in desiring every practicablerelaxation of it, they have in view only such parts ofit as are not connected, or are only subordinately so_

]08 MOl'tkL OF I_ikNY FABLES.

with the public revenue. As long as the necessityfor the present amount of revenue subsists, yourpetitioners cannot expect so important a branch of itas the customs to be given up, nor to be materiallydiminished, unless some substitute less objectionabl_be suggested. But it is against every restrictiveregulation of trade, not essential to the revenue,against all duties merely protective from foreigncompetition, and against the excess of such dutiesas are partly for the purpose of revenue, and partlyfor that of protection, that the prayer of the presentpetition is respectfully submitted to the wisdom ofparliament.

"May it therefore, &c,"

In order to see how extensively and howeffectually governments have interfered topervert the natural distribution of the gifts ofProvidence, it would be necessary to reviewalmost the whole list of spontaneous and artificialproductions; for there are few or none whosespread has not been arbitrarily stopped in onedirection or another. What Great Britainalone,--the most enlightened of commercialcountries,--has done in damming up the streamsof human enjoyment, is fearful to think of. Inthe vineyards of France and Portugal, the grapeshave been trodden to waste, and the vinedressers'children have gone half clothed, because wineswere not permitted to be brought in, and cottonsand woollens were thereby forbidden to becarried out, at their natural cost. During thelong series of years that good tea has been a toocostly drink for many thousands of our popula_

bIORAL OF MANY FABLES. ]00

tioll, they would have been glad of tile refresh-ment of chocolate, in some of its various prepa-rations, if Spain had been permitted to send it tous from her colonies as cheap as Spain waswilling to afford it. But the article has beenloaded with a duty amounting to from 100 to230 percent. ; so that few but therich couldevertaste it; and they have been swallowing acurious compound of the nut, flour, and Castilesoap. Tile silkworms of Italy would havewrought as busily for.England as for France, ifEngland had not been jealous of France, andthereby injured her own manufacture. Englandis wiser now, and new myriads of worms arehanging theirgolden balls on the mutberrytrees,while the neighbouring peasantry are enjoyingthe use of our hardware, and looms are kept busyin Spitalfields. Time was when the northernnations welcomed our manufactures in return fortheir timber and iron of prime quality : but now,the ship and house-builders must pay higher forworse wood from Canada; and we have laidexorbitant duties on foreign iron, in order toencourage mining at home. The good people ofSweden and Norway, having nothing to offer usbut timber and iron, must do 'without ourmanufactures; and thus are willing nationsprevented from helping one another. Whatevermay be thought of the indulgence of opium irtthis country, no one objects to its being used bytile Hindoo and the Chinese as a stimuluspropriate to the climate in which they dwell, allP-we had allowed things to take their natural

25 L

_10 _QRAL OF MANY FABLES.

course, Persian husbandmen would have tendedtheir vast poppy-fields, season by season,guarding the delicate plant from ttle injuries ofinsects, and sheltering it from unfavourablewinds, while the Chinese and the Hindoos wouldhave been busy preparing commodities toexchange with the Persian, and all would havebeen made rich enough by their traffic to keep:British merchant-ships continually going andcoming to supply their wants. But our IndiaCompany has chosen to force and monopolizethe culture of opium. It has beggared andenslaved many thousands of reluctant cultivators ;narrowed the demand ; lessened its own revenue,year by year, and just lived to see China freelysupplied with Turkey opium by Americantraders. Thousands of our lowly brethren inttindostan and Ceylon have dropped unnoticedout of life because they have not been permittedto touch the crisped salt beneath their feet, or topluck the spices which perfume tlle air theybreathe. Millions more have sunk at the ap-proach of famine, because no labour of theirs waspermitted to. provide them with what might be ex-changed for food from some neighbouring coast.

It is difficult to say whether we have injuredChina or Great Britain the most by our extra-ordinary fancy of sending functionaries investedat once with political and commercial power intoa country where commerce _is held by far toodegrading an employment to be associated withpolitical functions. This blunder was made byour monopolists, who were, but lately, keeping

MORAL OF _ANY FABLEg. ]l[

up a splendid establishment of important per-sonages, who were regarded by the Chinese asbeing just above the rank of vagabonds ;--nomore respectable, in their possession of incomesgraduating from 4000/. to 18,000/. a-year, thanthe American free-traders who turn ttmir backs

on the Hong merchants, and go into the openmarket, ofl_ring their furs with one hand, andreceiving teas and nankeens with the other,cleverly stealing the trade of the British mean-time with both. What weahh and comfort un-told might the two vast empires of Britain andChina have poured into one another by this time,if their original jealousies had not been per-.petuated by Enghsh mismanagement! TheDutch and the Americans have both smuggledlarge quantities of tea into England, while thetwelve supercargoes at Canton have been talkingpolities or yawning within the walls of theirFactory! Truly did the Celestial Emperor sayto our representatives, " Your good fortune hasbeen small[ You arrived at the gates of theimperial house, and were unable to hft your eyesto the face of heaven." The day of exclusion is,however, over. It may be long before we canovercome the contempt of the nation, and makethem forget that some of our politicians weretraders : but we have the interests of the Chinese

in our favour. They will import according totheir needs ; more of our weavers and cutlers willhave money to buy tea with, and they will getmore tea for their money ; and no one can tellwhat new classes of productions may become

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112 IIIORkL OF _IANY FABLEs.

eommou when the messengers of these twomighty empires shall go to and fro_ and know-ledge shall be increased.

Such are a few of the specimens which mightbe adduced of the misehiefs wrought in onehemisphere by interference with commerce." To all things there cometh an end ;" to all un-just and foolish things, at least. We are nowan possession of so ample a stock of experience,that the day cannot be far off when all customsduties shall be repealed but those which are ne-cessary for file purposes of revenue. There willbe some half-objectors left ; some importers whowill admit the impolicy of protections of allarticles but the one in which they happen todeal. Mr. Huskisson was pathetically appealedto to protect green glass bottles; and a laststruggle may be tried with another minister infavour of liquorice or coral beads ; but an im-mense majority of every civilised people areverging towards a mutual a_eement to give, inorder that to each may be given " full measure,pressed down, aml shaken together, and runningover." Such is the plenty in which God showershis gifts among us; and such is the measure in iwhich he would have us yield each to the other. :

The countries of the world differ in their facilities [for producing the comforts and luxuries of life.

The inhabitants of the world agree in wanting ordesiring all the comforts and luxuries which theworld produces.

These wants and desires ean be in no de_eegratified but by meaIm of mutual exchanges. They

MORAL OF MANY FABLE_. 113

can be fully satisfied only by means of absolutelyuniversal and free exchanges.

By universal and fi-ee exchange,--that is, by cachperson being permitted to exchange what he wantsleast tbr what he wants most,--an absolutely per-fect system of economy of resources is established ;the whole world being included in the arrangement.

The present want of agreement m the wholeworld to adopt this system does not invalidate itsprinciple when applmd to a single nation. It mustever be file interest of a nation to exchange what itwants little at home for what it wants more fromabroad. If denied what it wants most, it will bewise to take what is next best ; and so on, as longas anything is left which is produced better abroad.than at home.

In the above case, the blame of the deprivationrests with the prohibiting power ; but the sufferingaffects both the trading nations,--the one beingprevented getting what it wants most,--the etherbeing prevented parting with what it wants least.

As the general interest of each nation requiresthat there should be perfect hberty in the exchangeof commodities, any restriction on such liberty, forthe sake of benefiting any particular.class or classes,is a sacrifice of a larger interest to a smaller,--thatis a sin in government.

This sin is committed when,--First,--Any protection is granted powerful

enough to tempt to evasion, producing dis-loyalty, fiaud, and jealousy : when,

Secondly,--Capital is unproductively consumedin the maintenance of an apparatus of re-striction : when,

Thirdly,--Capital is unproductively bestowed_in enabling those who produce at home dearerthan foreigners to sell abroad as cheap as

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114 _toRm, oF MANY FABLES.

foreigners,--that is, in bounties on exporta-tion : and when,

Fourthly,--Capital is diverted from its naturalcourse to be employed in producing at homethat which is expensive and inferior, insteadof in preparing that which will purchase thesame article cheap and superior abroad,-that is, when restrictions are imposed onimportation.

But though the general interest is sacrificed, noparticular interest is permanently benefited, byspecial protections : since

Restrict: regulations in favour of the few areviolated, when such violation is the interest of themany ; and

Every diminution of the consumer's fund causes

loss of custom to the producer. Again,a

The absence of competition and deprivation of .custom combine to make his article inferior and

dear ; which inferiority an4 dearness cause his trade !still further to decline.'

Such are the evils which attend the protection ofa class of producers who cannot compete with foreignproducers of the same article.

If home producers can compete with foreign pro-ducers, they need no protection, as, cwteris paribus,buying at hand is preferable to buying at a dis-tance. !

Free competition cannot fail to benefit all ;parties :w

Consumers, by securing the greatest practicable fimprovement and cheapness of the article ;

Pro_lucers, by the consequent perpetual extensionof demand ;--and

Society at large, by determining capital to itsnatural channels.

]_IOII&LOF MANY FABLES. 115

Colonies are-advantageous to the mother-countryas affording places of settlement for her emigratingmembers, and opening markets where her merchantswill always have the preference over those of othercountries, from identity of language and usages.

Colonies are not advantageous to the mother-country as the basis of a peculiar trade.

The term "colony trade " involves the idea ofmonopoly ; since, in a free trade, a colony bears-thesame relation as any other party to the mother-country.

Such monopoly is disadvantageous to the mother-country, whether possessed by the government, asa trading party, by an exclusive company, or by allthe merchants of the mother-country.

It is disadvantageous as impairing the resourcesof the dependency, which are a part of the resourcesof the empire, and the very material of the tradewhich is the object of desire.

If a colony is forbidden to buy of any but the mo-ther-country, it must do without some articles whichit desires, or pay dear for them ;--it loses the oppor-tunity of an advantageous exchange, or makes adisadvantageous one. Thus the resources of thecolony are wasted.

If a colony is forbidden to sell its own produce toany but the mother-country, either the prohibitionis not needed, or the colony receives less in exchangefrom the mother-country than it might obtain else-where. Thus, again, the resources of the colonyare wasted.

If a colony is forbidden either to buy of or sell toany but the mother-country, the resources of thecolony are wasted according to both the above me-thods, and the colony is condemned to remain apoor customer and an expensive dependency.

In proportion, therefore, as trade with colonies isdistinguished from trade with other places, by re-

116 _OaAL OF _IANY FABLES,

strietions on buyers at home, or on sellers in thecQlonies, that trade (involving the apparatus of re-striction) becomes an occasion of loss instead of gainto the empire.

If restrictive interference be impolitic,--op-pressive,--impious, between empire and empire,it becomes absolutely monstrous when introducedamong the different classes of tile same country,The magistrates of a grazing county would doill to prohibit intercourse with the manufacturing,and agricultural, and mining districts around ;but much more oppressive and fatal would bethe policy of a city corporation which shouldmake the resources of tile city depend on thewill of the corn-dealers which it contained.--Such has been the policy of the rulers of Britain ;and side by side with this restriction of the supplyof food,--this abuse of eapital,--may be placedthe curious perversion of labour which is causednot only by the forcing of agriculture at the ex-pense of manufactures, but by the existence ofexclusive and injurious privileges to tradingcorporations, of certain ancient laws respectingappremiceship, and of the iniquitous practice ofthe impressment of seamen.

The system of restricting the supply of foodwould exhibit as many sins under the head ofProduction as of Distribution. To make an

ever-increasing population depend on graduat-ing soils for its support, is at once to enact thateither a certain number shall die outright ofhunger, or that a much larger number shall behalf-fed ; and that, in either_ca6e, wazte of capi-

MORALOF MANYFABLES, 117

tal must be made in proportion to the inferiorityof our newly-cultivated soils compared with thosewhich might yield us their produce from abroad.From this waste arises another and equally de-structive species of waste in the preparation ofour manufactured articles. Wages are higherthan they need be to purchase the same neces-saries; therefore our manufactured articles arehigher priced than they need be ; therefore theyhave not a fair chance in foreign markets ; andtherefore our ill-fed manufacturing population iswronged. Such are some of the evils of a re-stricted trade in corn, considered under the headof Production. As for the distribution of this

prime necessary of life,--the circumstance of itsbeing loaded with an artificial cost suggests thedeplorable scenes and narratives of sufferingwhich may be verified in every street of all ourcities. No arrangement can be more utterlyunprincipled than that by which a necessary oflife, of which the richest can scarcely consumemore than the poorest, is made needlessly ex-pensive. We may linger in vain to find a com-parison to illustrate the iniquity. It is the worstpossible instance of legislative injustice; andwhen it is considered that this injustice is perpe-trated for the benefit of a particular class, whichclass is brought by it to the verge of ruin, andthat the injury spreads to every other class inturn, it will be seen that no words can describeits folly. Add to this our provisions for divertinglabour from its natural channels, and for makingit stagnate in one spot, and it will appear as if

118 _IOI:ALOF MANY FABLnS.

we bad vet to learn the rights of labour and theuses of capital, or as if we openly defied the one,and abused the other. It is not so, however.The iollv came before the iniquity ; and, m casesof false" legislation, the folly, originating inignorance, must be long perceived and pollutedout,mi.e, must become iuiquity,--before it canbe remedied. But the remedy is secured fromthe moment that the denunciation goes abroad.We have passed through tile necessary stages,and the issue is at hand. Our grandfatherslegislated about corn on false principles, throughignorance; ou_: fathers clung to these falseprinciples in a less innocent state of doubt. Wehave perpetuated them wickedly, knowing theirdisastrous results; and a voice is going upthrough all the land which will almost imme-diately compel their relinquishment.

Very little can be done to improve the condi-tion of" tile people till the Corn Laws arerepealed. All practicable retrenchments, allordinary reduction of taxation, all refbrms in theorganization of Church and State, important asthey are, are trifles compared with this. Theonly measure of equal consequence is the reduc-tion of the Debt ; and this ought to accompanyor immediately precede the establishment of afree trade in corn. Day and night, from weekto week, from month to month, the nation shouldpetition for a free trade in corn, urging holylandlords, when freed from fluctuation of their re-venues, will be able to bear their fair proportion ofthe national burdens ; how tile farmer, no longertempted to a wasteful application of capital will

_ORAL OF MAN:" FABLES. 119

cease the so-called ungratefid clamour w_th whichhe repays legislative protection; how tilemanufacturing class will prosper and willmultiply our resources when they are allowed thebenefits of the free competition in which theiringenuity qualifies them to hold a distinguishedplace: and how our labourers will be, by oneeon_Jrebensive act, raised, every man of them, agrade higher than any laborious, partmt legisla-tion can raise any one of their classes. An actwhich must, at once, |,revent the waste of capitaland the misapplicat:on of labour, unclog thesystem of manufactures and commerce, andobviate the main distresses of our agriculturists,must do more for the improvement of ourrevenue, and the union of onr nation than allless comprehensive measures put together. Tountax the prime necessary of life is to provide atonce a prospective remedy for all the worst evilsof our social arrangements. This will scarcelybe disputed by those who admit the principles ofthe following summary. It is important thatsuch results of these principles sbould be tracedout and made familiar to the mind, as it is certainthat the days of free trading in corn are athand.

)is exchangeable value is ultimately determinedby the cost of production, and as there as an inces-sant tendency to an increase in the cost of produc-ing food, (m(erior soils being taken into cultl_ ationas population increases,)there is a perpetual ten-dency in the exchangeable value of tbod to rise,however this tendency may be temporarily checked

1"_0 I_IORALOF _fRNY FABLES,

by accidents of seasons, and by improvements inagTieultural arts.

As wages rise (without advantage to the labourer)in consequence of a rise in the _alue of food, capi_talists must either sell their productions dearer thanis necessary where food. is cheaper, or submit to adiminution of their profits.

Under the first alternative, the capitalist is in-capacitated for competition with the capitalists ofcountries where food is cheaper : under the second,the capital of the country tends, through perpetualdiminution, to extinction.

Such is the case of a thickly-peopled country de-pending for food wholly on its own resources.

There are many countries in the world wherethese tendencies have not yet shown themselves;where there is so _much fertile land, that the costof producing food does not yet increase ; and wherecorn superabounds, or-would do so, if there was in-ducement to grow it.

Such inducement exists in the liberty to exchangethe corn with which a thinly-peopled country mayabound, for the productions in which it is deficient,and with which a populous country may abound.While, by this exchange, the first country obtainsmore corn in return for its other productions, andthe s_ond more of other productions in return forits corn, than could be extracted at home, both arebenefited. The capital of the thickly_peopled coun-

_try will perpetually grow ; the thinly-peopled coun-try will become populous ; and the only necessarylimit of the prosperity of all will be the limit to thefertility of the world.

But the waste of capital caused by raising corndear and in limited quantities at home, when itmight be purchased cheap and in unlimited qnan-

MORAL OF MAIqY FABLES. 121

tities abroad, is not the only evil attending a re-striction of any country to its own resources of food ;a further waste of capital and infliction of hardshipare occasioned by.other consequences of such re-striction.

As the demand for bread varies little within anyone season, or few seasons, while the supply is per-petually varying, the exchangeable value of cornfluctuates more than that of any article whose re-turn to the cost of preductiou is more calculable.

Its necessity to existence causes a panic to ariseon the smallest deficiency of supply, enhancing itsprice in undue proportion ; and as the demand can-not materially increase on the immediate occasionof a surplus, and as corn is a perishable article, theprice falls m an undue proportion.

These excessive fluctuations, alternately wastingthe resources of the consumers and the producersof corn, are avoided where "_here is liberty to theone class to buy abroad in deficient seasons, and tothe other to sell abroad in times of superabund-ance.

It is not enough that such purchase and sale arepermitted by special legislation when occasion arises,as there can be no certainty of obtaining a suffi-cient supply, on reasonable teiTaS, in answer to acapricious and urgent demand.

Permanently importing countries are thus moreregularly and cheaply supplied than those whichoccasionally import and occasionally export; bu_these last are, if their corn-exchanges be left free,immeasurably more prosperous than one which isplaced at the mercy of man and circumstance bya system of alternate restriction and freedom.

By a regular importation of corn, the propercheck is pro{'ided against capital being wasted onhlferior soils ; and this capital is directed towanls

M

l_ _IORAL OF MA.'_V FABLE_.

manufactm_s, which bring in a larger return offood from abroad than could have been yiekled bythose inferior soils. Labour is at the same timedirected into the most profitable channels. Anydegree of restriction on this natural direction oflabour and capital is ultimately injurious to everyclass of the eommunity,--to land-owners, farmingand manufacturing capitalists, and labourers.

Labourers suffer by whatever makes the primenecessary of life dear and uncertain in its supply,and by whatever impairs the resources of their em-ployers.

Manufacturing capitalists suffer by whatevertends needlessly to check the reciprocal growth ofcapital and population, to raise wages, and disablethem tbr competition abroad.

Farming capitalists suffer by whatever exposestheir fortunes to unnecessary vicissitude, and temptsthem to an application of capital whmh can be ren-dered profitable only by the maintenance of a sys-tem which injures their customers.

Landowners suffer by whatever renders their re-venues fluctuating, and impah's the prosperity oftheir tenants, and of the society at large on whichthe security of their property depends.

As it is the interest of all classes that the supplyof food should be regular and cheap, and as regu-larity and cheapness are best secured by a free tradein corn, it is the interest of all classes that thereshould be a free trade in corn.

The duty of government being to render securethe property of its subjects, and their industry beingtheir most undeniable property, all interference ofGovernment with the direction and the rewards of}ndustry is a violation of its duty towards its sub-jeers.

MORAL OF MAN_" FABLES. 123

Such interference takes place when some arecountenance4 by legislation in engrossing laboursand rewards which would otherwise be open to all ;as in the case of privileged trading corporations :-

When arbitrary means of preparatmu are dic-tated as a condition of the exercise of industry, andthe enjoyment of its fruits,--as in the case of theapprenticeship law ;-

When labourers are compelled to a species oflabour which they would not have chosen,--as inthe case of the impressment of seamen.

The same duty--of securing the free exercise ofindustry--requires that companies should be pri-vileged to carry on works of public utihty which arenot within the reach of individual enterprise,--asin the case of roads, canals, bridges, &e. ; andalso,

That the fruits of rare ingenuity and enterpriseshould be secured to the indlvidual,--aceording tothe design of our patent law.

In the first-mentioned instances of interference,the three grgat evils arise of

The restraint of fair competition in some cases ;The arbitrary increase of competition in other

cases ;The obstruction of the circulation of labour and

capital from employment to employment,and from place to place.

In the last-mentioned instances of protection,none of these evils take place.

The general principlesnf Exchange are so fewand obvious that there would be little need to

enlarge upon them but for their perpetualviolation. To leave all men free to seek tile

gratification_of their wants seems a simtfle rule_2

I_4 MORAL OF MANY FABLES.

enough; and universal experience has shown,not only that wants freely expressed are sure tobe supplied, generally to the advantage of bothparties, but that every interference of authority,whether to check or stimulate the want,--toencourage or discourage the supply, proves anaggression on the rights of industry, and aneventual injury to all concerned. All thatgovernments have to do with the exchanges ofnations, as of individuals, is to protect theirnatural freedom; and, if a system of indirecttaxation be the one adopted, to select thosecommodities for duty wlfich are not necessaryenough to subject the lowest class to this speciesof tax, while they are desirable enough to induceothers to pay the additional cost. It may be aquestion whether this method of raising revenuebe wise: there can be no question that agovernment directly violates its duty when itgrants privileges (real or supposed) to one classabove another.

But, it is said, governments have always shownmore or less of this partiality. May it be con-fidently anticipated that they will ever cease totransgress the legitimate bounds of their power ?

Yes; very confidently. Such transgression isa feudal barbarism. The feudal system has diedout in fl_eory ; and it is impossible that itspractical barbarism should long remain. Theprogress of freedom has been continuous andaccountable, and its consummation is clearly amatter of confident prophecy. Sovereigns,grand and pretty, individual or comistiDg of a

kIOItAL OF M.%NY FABLES. I'2D

small number compacted into a government,have first exercised absolute power over the lives,properties and liberties of their subjects: thisdespotic grasp has been gradually relaxed, tilllife, property, and liberty have been made todepend on law, and not on arbitrary will. Next,the law has been improved, from being the agentof such arbitrary will, to being the expression ofa more extended and abstract will. From this

stage of improvement the progress has beenregular. The provinee of rule has been nar-rowed, and that of law has been enlarged.Whatever may have been,--whatever may stillbe,rathe faults in the methods of making the law,the absurdities of the law in some of its parts,aml its ina_tequateness as a wbole in everycivilized country, the process of enlargement hasstill gone on, some unjust usurpation beingabolished, some sore oppression removed fromtime to time, affording a clear prospect of aperiod when every natural and social right shallbe released from the gripe of irresponsibleauthority. No king now strikes off heads at anymoment when tile fancy may seize him. Nokings' councillors now plunder their neighbours tocarry on their wars or their sports, or are paidfor their services by gifts of patents andmonopolies. No parliaments now make lawsaccording to the royal pleasure, without con-suiting the people ; and, if they are slow to re-peal some oppressive old laws with which thepeople are disgusted, it is certairi that such lawscould not at this day be proposed. Wtmt can

126 _[ORAr,OF _IA_ rA_S.

be more eloquent than this language of events ?V(hat more prophetic than this progression?While the agents by which tile advance has beenachieved are multiplied and strengthei_ed,--whileits final purposes are mo_'e clearly revealed, dayby day, what other expectation can be entertainedthan that it will advance more and more rapidly,till the meanest rights of industry shall be atlength freed from the last aggressions of power ?Then the humblest labourer may buy his loafand sell his labour in what corner of the earth he

pleases. Then legislators will no more dream ofdictatin_ what wine shall be drunk, and whatfabrics shall be worn, and through what mediumGod's free gifts must be sought, than they nowdream of branding a man's face on account ofhis theology. They will perceive that the officeof dispensing the bounty of nature is not theirsbut God's ; and that the agents he has appointedare neither kings, par|laments, nor custom-houseofficers, but those ever.growing desires withwhich he has vivified the souls of the haughtiestand the lowliest of his children.

( 12_ )

PART IV.

COr_SV_PTXON is of two kinds--productive and unproductive.

The object of the one is the restoration, with in-crease, in some new form, of that which is consumed.The object of the other is the enjoyment of somegood through the sacrifice of that which is con-sumed.

That which is consumed productively is capital,re-appearing ibr future use. That which is con-sumed unproductively ceases to be capital, or anything else : it is wholly lost.

Such loss is desirable, or the contrary, in propor-tion as the happiness resulting from the sacrificeexceeds or falls short of the happiness belonging totile continued possession of the consumable com-modity.

The total of what is produced is called the grossproduce.

That which remains, after replacing the capitalconsumed, is called the net produce.

While a man produces only that which he him-self consumes, there is no demand and supply.

If a man produces more of one thing than heconsumes, it is for the sake of obtaining somethingwhich another man produces, over and abow whathe consumes.

Each brinTs the two requisites of a demand,--_'iz., the wish for a supply, and a commodity where-with to obtain it.

This commodity, _hich is the instrument of

1_0_ _IOI_AL OF _IANY FABLE_,

demand, is, at the _ame time, the instrument ofsupply.

Though the respective commodities of no twoproducers may be exactly suitable to their re-spective wishes, or equivalent in amount, yet, asevery mans instrument of demand and supply isidentical, the aggregate demand of society mustbe precisely equal to its supply.

In other words, a general glut is impossible.A partial glut is an evil which induces its own

remedy ; and the more quickly the greater the evil ;since, the aggregate demand ar, d supply beingalways equal, a superabundance of one commoditytestifies to the deficiency of another ; and, all ex-changers being anxious to exchange the deficientarticle for that whmh is superabundant, the produc-tion of the former _,ill be quickened, and that ofthe latter slackened.

A new creation of capital, employed in the pro-duetlou of the deficient commodlt):, may thus re-medy a glut.

A new creation of capital is always a benefit tosociety, by constituting a new demand.

It follows that an unproductive consumption ofcapital is an injury to society, by contracting thedemand. In other words, an expenditure whichavoidably exceeds the revenue is a social crime.

All interference which perplexes the calculationsof producers, and thus causes the danger of a glut,is al_o a social crime.

It is necessary to the security and advancementof a community that there should be an expendi-ture of a" portion of its wealth for purposes of de-fence, of public order, and of social improvement.

As public expenditure, though necessary, is un-productive, it mast be limited ; and as the means

_'ORAL OF 5IANY FAILLES. lq9

of such expenditure are furnished by the people fordefined objects, it_ limit is easily ascertained.

That expenditure alone _hich is necessary to de-fence, public order, and social improvement, is jus-tifiable.

Such a direction of the public expenditure canbe secured only by the public functionaries whoexpend being made fully responsible to the party inwhose behalf riley expend,

For want of this responsibility, the public expen-diture of an early age--deterr_ined to pageantry,war, and favouritism--was excessive, and perpe-trated by the few in defiance of the many.

For want of a due degree of this responsibility,the public expenditure of an after age--determinedto luxury, war, and patronage--was excessive, andperpetrated by the few in fear of the many, by de-ceiving and deil'auding them.

For want of a due degree of this responsibility,the public expenditure of the present age--deter-mined chiefly to the sustaining of burdens imposedby a preceding age--perpetuates many abuses ;and though much ameliorated by the less unequaldistribution of power, the pubhc expenditure is yetas far from being regulated to the greatest advan-tage of the many, as the many are from exactingdue responsibility and service t}om the few.

When this sen-ice and responsibility shall beduty exacted, there will be--

]Necessary offices only, whose duties will beclearly defined, fully accounted for, and liberallyrewarded ;-

Little patronage, and that little at the disposal ofthe people ;-

No pomp, at the expense of those who can_barelyobtain support i--but

130 MORALOF I_IANYFABLES.

Liberal provisions for the advancement of na-tional industry and intelligenco,

If the above principles be true., a comparisonof them with our experience wilt yield very ani-mating conclusions. Consumption--that is, hu-man enjoyment--is the end to which all theforegoing processes are directed. Demand isthe index of human enjoyment. Every increaseof capital creates a new demand. (2apital isperpetually on the increase. To sum up thewhole, human enjoyment is perpetually on theincrease. The single exception to this happyconclusion is where, as in Ireland, the growth ofcapital is overmatched by the increase of popula-tion. But even in Ireland (the worst ease whichcould be selected) the evil is so partial as to allowthe good to spread. Though too large a portionof the demand comes in the form of a clamourfor daily food, there is a new and spreading de-mand for a multitude of articles of less necessity.Portions of the population are rising to a regionof higher and wider desires ; and if this partialelevation has taken place under a most viciouspolitical system, there need be no question thata more rapid improvement will grow up underthat wiser and milder government which the civi-lized world will take care that Ireland shall atlength enjoy. There is something so delightfulin the review of the multiplication of comfortsand enjoyments, that it is difficult to turn awayfrom it at any time ; and never is it more diffleultthan when establishing the moral of hopefulness.

MORAL OF M&NY FABLES. 131

But I have dwelt largely on this happy truth inmy story of " Briery Creek ; *' and probably noday passes in which my readers do not hear orsay something about the wonderful improvementsiu art, the variety of new conveniences, and thespread downwards of luxuries to which thewealthy were formerly believed to have an exclu-sive title. Great as is still the number of thosewho are scorched by God's vivifying sun, andchilled by his fertilizing rain, for want of shelterand clothing, tile extension of enjoyment haskept its proportion (being both cause and effect)to the improvement of the subordinate processes.With every increase of production, with everyimprovement of distribution, with every extensionof exchange, consumption has kept pace. Theonly checks it has ever received have arisen outof those legislative sins which have wrought, ormust work, their own destruction.

As for that species of consumption which hasbeen always regarded with the least complacency,bthe too long unprofitable consumption of go-vernment,--nothing can be more cheering thanto mark the changes in its character from anearly period of our empire till now. Viewed byitsel'f, our government expenditure is a mournfulspectacle enough; but the heaviest of the bur-dens we now bear were imposed _v a former age ;and our experience of their weigI_t is a sufficientsecurity against such being ever imposed again.We are no longer plundered by force or fraud,and denied the redress of a pariiament; we areno longer hurried into wars, and seduced to tax

13,_ BIOR.S,L OF MANY FABLES.

our children's children for their support. Tilesin is now that of omission, and not of perpetra-tion. We do not shake off old burdens, or pro-vide for public order and social improvement aswe should ; but we do not neglect the one anddespise the other, as was done in days of old ;and what is left undone there is a _preadingmovement to effect. The only irreclaimable hu-man decree,--that of an enlightened multitude,--has gone forth against the abuses of theChurch and the Law. The Army will follow;and there is reason to hope that a force is beingalready nourished which may grapple with thegigantic Debt itself. _'ew and noble institu-tions are being demanded from all quarters asthe natural growth from the renovation of theold ones. Religion must yield Education, andLaw a righteous Penal Discipline. Schools mustspring up around our churches, and prisons willbe granted where the law must, if possible, mendcriminals as effectually as it has hitherto made

them. In time, we shall find that we have sparebarracks, which may be converted into abodes ofscience; and many a parade may become anexercising place for laborious mechanics insteadof spruce soldiers. Such are some of the modesof public expenditure which the nation is impa-tient to sanetion. What further institutions willbe made to grow out of these, we may hereafterlearn in the schools which will presently beplanted wherever families are congregated. Allthat we can yet presume is, that they will be asmuch wiser than ours as our extravagances, arc

MORAL OF I_iANY FABLES, 133

more innocent than the savage pageantries of"thettenries, the cruel pleasantries of the Charleses,and the atrocious policy of the " heaven-bornMinisters" who figure in our history.

All the members of a society who derive protec-tion from its government owe a certain proportionof the produce of"their labour or capital to the sup-port of that governraent--that is, are justly liableto be taxed.

The proportion contributed should be determinedby the degree of protection enjoyed--of protectionto property ; for all are personally protected.

In other words, a just taxation must leave all themembers of society in precisely the same relationin which it found them.

This equality of contribution is the first principleof a just taxation.

Such equality can be secured only by a methodof direct taxation.

Taxes on commodities are, from their very na-ture, unequal, as they leave it in the choice of therich man how much he shall contribute to the sup-port of the state ; while the man whose whole in-come must be spent in the purchase of commoditieshas no such choice. This inequality is aggravatedby the necessity, in order to make these taxes pro-duetive, of imposing them on necessaries more thanon luxuries.

Taxes on commodities are further injurious byentailing great expense for the prevention of smug-ghng, and a needless cost of collection.

They could not have been long tolerated, but fortheir quality of affording a convenient method oftax paying, and for the ignorance of the bulk of thepeople of their injurious operation.

The method of direct taxation which best securesN

]34 MORAL OF MANY I_ABLE_.

equalityisthe impositionof a tax on income or onproperty.

There is so much difficulty in ascertaining, to thegeneral satisfaction, the relative values of incomesheld on different tenures, and the necessary inqui-sition is so odious, that ff a tax on the source ofincomes can be proved equally equitable, it is pre-ferable, inasmuch as it narrows the pro_'inc_ ofinquisition.

There is no reason to suppose that an equitablegraduation of a tax on invested capital is impracti-cable ; and as it would equally affect all incomesderived from this investment,--that is, all incomes

whatsoever,--its operation must be singularly im-partial, if the true principle of graduation be onceattained.

A graduated property-tax is free from all the evilsbelonging to taxes on commodities ; while it has nottheir single recommendation--of favouring the sub-ordinate convemence of the tax-payer.

This last consideration will, however, become ofless importance in proportion as the great body oftax-payers advances towards that enlightened agree-ment whicl_ is essential to the establishment of ajust system of taxation.

The grossest violation of every just principle oftaxation is the practice of burdening posterity bycontracting permanent loans, of which the nationis to pay the interest.

The next grossest violation of justice is the trans-mitting such an inherited debt unlessened to poste-rity, especially as every improvement iu the arts oflife furnishes'the means of throwing off a portion ofthe national burdens.

The same rule of morals which requires state-economy on behalf of the present generation, re-quires, on behalf of futut_ gen_tatioa_ that no

MORALOF I_IANYFABLES. 135

effort should be spared to liquidate the NationalDebt.

No sign of the times is more a|arming,umore excusably alarming,--to the dreaders ofchange, than the prevailing unwillingness to paytaxes,---except such as_ being indirect, are paidunawares. The strongest case which "the loversof old ways have now to bring in opposition tothe reforming spirit which is abroad, is that ofnumbers, who enjoy protection of life and pro-p.erty, being reluclantto pay for such protec,lion.

This reluctance is a bad symptom. It tells illfor some of our social arrangements, and offersan impediment, at the same time, to their recti-fication ; and thus gives as much concern to thereformers as to the preservers of abuses. Thiseagerness to throw off the burdens of the slateis a perfectly natural result of the burdens ofthe state having been made too heavy; but itdoes not the less exhibit an ignorance of socialduty which stands formidably in the way of im°provements in the arrangement of social liabi-lities. We are too heavily taxed, and the firstobject is to reduce our taxation. Indirect taxesare proved to be by far the heaviest, and theway to gain our object is therefore to exchangoindirect for direct taxes, to the greatest possibleextent. But the direct taxes are those that the

people quarrel with. What encouragement isthere for a government to propose a commuta-tion of all taxes for one on property, when there

_2

]3G MORAL OF MANY FABLE_.

is di_cu]ty in getting the assessed taxes paid ?How is it to be supposed that men will agree tothat on a larger scale which they quarrel withon a smaller ? How can there be a strongertemptation offered to our rulers to filch the pay-ment out of our raw materials, our tea, our beer,our newspapers, and tile articles of our clothing ?The more difficulty there is in raising the sup-plies, the more risk we run of being made toyield of our substance in ways fllat we are un-conscious of, and cannot check. The less man-liness and reasonableness we show in beingready to bear our just burden, the less chancewe have of the burden being lightened to theutmost. It is more than mortifying to perceivethat an overburdened nation must, even if ithad a ministry of sages, submit for a long timeto pay an enormous tax upon its own igno-rance.

Such appears too plainly to be now the casewith our nation, and with some other nations.A party of gentlemen may be found in any town,sitting over their wine and foreign fruits, repel-ling the idea of paying a yearly sum to the state,and laughinff, or staring, when the wisest manamong them informs flmm that they pay above100 per cent. on the collective commoditiesthey use. Tradesmen may be found in everyvillage who think it very grievous to pay a house-tax, while they overlook the price they have to_ive for their pipe of tobacco and their glass of_pirit and water. Some noblemen, perhaps,_ ould rather have higher tailor_' bills for liveries

MORALOF ._IAN_/FABLES. 137

than pay so much a head for their servants. Aslong as this is the case,--as lon_ as we showthat we prefer paying thirty shillings with oureyes shut to a guinea with our eyes open, ]lowcan we expect that there will not be bands readyto pocket the difference on the way to the Trea-sury ; and much disposition there to humour usin our blindness ?

The cry for retrenchment is a righteous cry ;but all power of retrenchment does not lie withthe Government. The Government may domuch ; But the people can do more, by gettingthemselves taxed in the most economical, insteadof the most wasteful, manner. It is a goodthing to abolish a sinecure, and to cut down thesalary of a bishop or a general ; but it is an im-measurably greater to get a direct tax substitutedfor one on eider or paper. All opposition to theprinciple of a direct tax is an encouragement tothe appointment of a host of exeisemen andother tax-gatherers, who may, in a very shorttime. surpass a bench of bishops and a long gra-dation of military officers in expensiveness to thepeople. It is time for the people to take carethat the greater retrenchments are not hinderedthrough their mistakes, while they are puttingtheir whole souls into the demand for the lesser.

Such mistakes are attributable to the absence

of political knowledge among us ; and the conse-quences should be charged, not to individuals,but to the State, which has omitted to providethem with such knowledge. The bulk of thepeople has yet to learn that_ being born into a

._3

138 I_IORALOF I_IANYFABLES.

civilized society, they are not to live by chance,under laws that have been made they know notwhy nor how, to have a portion of their moneytaken from them by people they have nothing todo with, so that they shall be wise to save asmuch as they can from being so taken from them.This is the view which too large a portion of ustake of our social position, instead of understand-ing that this complicated machine of society hasbeen elaborated, and must be maintained, at agreat expense; that its laws were constructedwith much pains and cost ; that under these lawscapital and labour are protected and made pro-ductive, and every blessing of life enhanced ; andthat it istherefore a pressing obligation uponeverymember of societyto contribute his share towardsmaintaining the condition of society to which heowes his security and social enjoyment. Whenthis is understood,--when the lowest of our la-bourers perceives that he is, as it were, the mem-ber of a large _club, united for mutual good,--none but rogues will think of shirking the pay-ment of their subscription.money, or resist anyparticular mode of payment before the objectionsto it have been brought under the considerationof the Committee, or after the Committee haspronounced the mode to be a good one. Theywill watch over the administration of the funds ;but they will manfully come forward with theirdue contributions, and resent, as an insult upontheir good se.'_e, all attempts to get these con-tnbutlons from them by indirect means.

Till they are enabled thus to view their own

MOBAL OF I_IANY FABLES. ]39

position, it is not wonderful, however del,lorable,that they should quarrel with a just tax becauseit is unequally imposed, ascribing to the prin-¢qple the _aults committed in its application. Thisis the less surprising too, because their teethhave been set on edge by the sour grapes withwhich their fathers were surfeited. A lavish ex-

penditure and acoamulating" debt have renderedodious the name and notion of every tax underheaven. Great allowance must be made for theeffects of such ignorance and such irritation.Let the time be hastened when a people, en-lightened to its lowest rank, may behold itsmeanest members heard with deference insteadof treated with allowance, if they shall see reasonfor remonstrance in regard to their contributionsto the state ! When they once know what is thewaste in the department of the Customs, andthe oppression and fraud in that of the Excise,-what are lhe effects of taxes on raw produce,and on the transfer of property, and how multi-plied beyond all decency are the burdens oflocal taxation, they will value every approachtowards a plan of direct levy, and wilt wonder attheir own clamour about the house and windowtaxes, (except as to their inequality of imposi-tion,) while so many worse remained unnoticed.I shall attempt to exhibit the effects on industryand happiness of our different kinds of taxes ina few more tales; and I only wish I had thepower to render n/y picture of a country of un-taxed commodities as attractive in fiction as I

_m sure it would be in reality. Meantime, I

]40 l_ollA_ oF I_IANYFAILLES.

trust preparation will be making in other quar-ters for imparting to the people those politicalprinciples which they desire to have for guidesin these stirring times, when every man mustact: those principles which will stimulate themat once to keep watch over the responsibilitiesof their rulers, and to discharge their own.

What, then. is-the moral of my fables ? Thatwe must mend our ways and be hopeful ;--or, behopeful and mend our ways. Each of thesecomes of the other, and each is pointed out bypast experience to be our duty, as it ought to

• be our pleasure. Enough has been said to provethat we must mend our ways: but I feel as ifenough could never be said in the enforcementof hopefulness. When we see what an advancethe race has already made, in the present infantstage of hum_tnity,--when we observe tile differ-ences between men now living,_it seems abso-.lute impiety to doubt man's perpetual progression,and to question the means: The savage whocreeps into a hollow tree when the wind blowskeen, satisfying his hunger with grubs from theherbage, and the. philosopher who lives surroundedby luxury which he values as intellectual food,and as an apparatus for securing him leisure totake account of the stars, and to fathom the usesof creation, now exist before our eyes,--the onea finished image of primeval man; the other a

_IORALOF /dANY FABLES. 141

faint, shadowy outline of what man may be.-Why are these men so unlike ? By observingevery gradation which is interposed, an answermay be obtained.--They are mainly formed bythe social circumstances amidst which they live.All other differences,---of bodily colour and form,and of climate,--are as nothing in comparison.Wherever there is little social circumstance,man remains a savage, whether he be dwarfedamong the snows of the Pole, or stretches hisnaked limbs on the hot sands of the desert, orvegetates in a cell like Caspar Hauser. Where-ever there is much social circumstance, man be-comes active, whether his activity be for good orfor evil. In proportion as society is so far natu-rally arranged as that its relations become multi-tudinous, man becomes intellectual, and"in cer-tain situations and in various degrees, virtuousand happy. Is there not yet at least one otherstage, when society shall be wisely arranged, sothat all may become intellectual, virtuous, andhappy ; or, at laast, so that the exceptions shallbe the precise reverse of those which are the rareinstances now ? The belief is irresistible.

There has been but one Socrates, some say ;and he lived very long ago.--Who knows that

• there has been but one Socrates ? Which of uscan tell but that_one of our forefathers, or someof ourselves, may have elbowed a second or atenth Socrates in the street, or passed him in thechurch aisle ? His philosophy may have lainsilent within him. Servitude may llave chainedhi_ tongue; hunger may have enfeebled his

]4_ MoltAL OF MANYFABLES.

voice ; he may have been shut up in the CantonFactory, or crushed under a distraint for poor-rates or tithes. Tall it has been known how manynoble intellects have been thus chained and si-lenced, let no one venture to say that there hasbeen but one Socrates.

Supposing, however, that there has been butone, does it tollow that the world has gone back,or has not got forward since his day ? To judgeof the effect of social institutions on characterand happiness, we must contemplate a nation,and not the individual the most distinguished ofthat nation. What English artisan would changeplaces with the Athenian mechanic of the daysof Socrates, in respect of external accommoda-tion ? What English artisan has not betterthings to say on the rights of industry, the du-ties of governments, and the true principle ofsocial morals, than the wisest orator among theGreek mechanics in the freest of their assem-blies ? It is true that certain of our most re-fined and virtuous philosophers are engagednearly all day in servile labour, and that theywear patched clothes, and would fain possessanother blanket. This proves that oar state ofsociety is yet imperfect ; but it does not provethat we have not made a prodigious advance.Their social qualifications, their particular ser-vices, have not been allowed due liberty, or re.eeived their due reward; but. the very circum-stance of such men being found among us,oanded together in the pursuit of good, is a suf-ficient test of progre_8, anti emalest 0f further

LloaAL 01_MA_ _A_LUI. I43

advancement. Such men are not only'wiser, andmore prosperous in their wisdom, than they werelikely to have been while building a house forSocrates, or making sandals for Xantippe, .butthey have made a vast approach towards beingemployed according to their capacities, and re-warded according to their worhs,--that is, to-wards participating in the most perfect conceiv-able condition of society.

When, till lately, has this condition of societybeen distinctly conceived of,pnot as an abstractgood, to be more imagined than expected,abutss a natural, inevitable consequence of labourand capital, and their.joint products, being .4eftfree, and the most enhghtened intellect having,in consequence, an open passage left accessible,by which it might rise to an influential rank ?Such a conception as fl_isdiffers from the ancientdreams of benevolent philosophers, as the astro-nomer's predictions of the present day differ fromthe ancient mythological fables about the stars.The means of discernment are ascertained--are

held in our hands. We do not presume to cal-culate the day and hour when any specified ame-lioration shall take place ; but the event can beintercepted only by such a convulsion as shallmake heaven a wreck and earth a chaos. In nopresumption of human wisdom is this declarationpronounced. Truth has one appropriate organ,and principles are that organ ; and every prin-ciple on which society has advanced makes tilesame. proc]amation. Each has delivered manover to It nobler _ucce_or) with a promise of

progression, and the promise has never yet beenbi,okc_ The last and best principle whichhas tie_ professed, if not acted upon, by ourrulers, because insisted on by our nation, is," the greatest happiness of the greatest num-ber." Was there ever a time before when aprinciple so expanding and so enduring as thiswas professed by rulers, because insisted on bythe ruled ? While this fact is before our eyes,and this profess'm_,-,-m_king_ to our ears,we Catt_mve"h_Us off#_iety standing still,_ottgh_th¢_e be briffe tyranny in Russia, andtmrbariffn folly in China, and the worst form'ofslavery at New Orleans, and a tremendous pau-

er population at the doors of our own homes.e genitls of society has before transmigrated

through forms as horrid and disgusting as these.The prophecy which each has been made to giveout has been fulfilled : therefore shall the.heaven-born spirit be trusted while revealing and an-nouncing at once the means and tim end--rtJg_Px.OYSmST OF ALX.rowrRs A_n xLL _tXT_-_A_ T_ I_IATU_AL RECObIPENBE OF ALL AC-

TION, &lqD _-IE CONSEQUENT ACCOMPLISHMENT

or "rsz M_gsZss _ T_z OaEA_S_ NUM_Ea,]F NOT OF ALL.

THE END.

London ; Printed by W. Ciowes, Duke-street, Lambetlt,