Now though we perfectly
agree with those who thus reason and think that their conclusions are most
legitimately deducible from the premises, yet we cannot help the
conviction that they have somewhat overstrained their argument and that in
their zeal to prove that the present life is but a state of probation they
have sometimes represented the moral government of God in our world, as
more deranged, and further from equity than actually is the case.
Notwithstanding all that has been advanced to the contrary we think we are
entitled, from the strongest historical evidence to believe that the
proverb, though not universally yet very generally, holds true even when
we confine our regards to man’s present existence that virtue is her own
reward and that vice involves its own punishment, or, in other words, that
there is a very intimate connection between a man’s moral character, and
his economic circumstances. Idleness and vice are, with few exceptions,
the harbingers of disease and misery while sobriety and industry seldom
fail to procure for their possessor, respectability and comfort. So that
we shall in general find, that if a virtuous man come to ruin, it is not
because of, but in spite of his virtue; and that on the other hand, if a
vicious man prosper, it is not because of, but in spite of his immorality.
And these remarks are not only consonant to experience and sound
philosophy, but they also receive additional confirmation from the
announcements of revelation, which ever describes moral evil as the sole
cause of all the misery that is to be found in our world; and which holds
out to him who is obedient to its precepts, the promise of the life which
now is, as well as of that life which is to come.
But if these remarks hold,
generally, with regard to individuals, they are still more universally
true when applied to nations. An individual may get rich by fraud and
injustice; but we know of no vice that can aggrandize a nation. Some
unforeseen calamity, on the other hand, may overwhelm the most virtuous
individual; but we know not of any obstacle which can impede the rising
greatness of a country, whose inhabitants are sober and industrious, and
which is governed with justice and liberality. So that we may safely aver,
if not of individuals, at least of communities, that there is a very close
and intimate connection between their moral, and their economic condition.
To point out a few of the
mutual influences and affinities which obtain between the moral and the
economic condition of mankind, will, therefore, be the object of the
following observations. And we shall consider the subject; First, As it
may be illustrated in savage life, and in the subsequent progress of a
community from barbarism to refinement. And, secondly, in its relation to
civilized society.
The most degraded condition
in which we can suppose human beings to be placed, and that in which man
most nearly resembles the animals of the inferior creation, is that
condition in which there is no mental culture, no moral instruction
whatever. As this is the lowest condition in which a community can be
placed in point of morals, so is it the lowest in point of economic
comfort. The untutored savage comes into the world, and feels himself
actuated by certain appetites and passions, which, as he has never been
taught to restrain, he makes it his sole employment to gratify. His
present wants occupy so much of his attention, that he seldom thinks of
making provision for those that are future. His subsistence, therefore,
consists entirely in the spontaneous productions of the earth and the sea;
in the animals which he can succeed in capturing, and in the scanty fruits
which the soil may produce without the labour of human hands. The latter
are so insignificant that they can scarcely be taken into account; and
accordingly, we find, that fishing, and the chase, constitute, in general,
the sole employments of nations sunk in this lowest state of barbarism.
Nothing can be more
uncertain, however, than the returns which such occupations yield; and the
savage has too little foresight to make the success of one expedition
compensate for the failure of another. If he catch a deer, he does not
think of laying up part of it against the emergencies of future bad
fortune, but proceeds forthwith to gratify the voracious appetite of
himself and his family, which has in all likelihood, been whetted by long
fasting, or by a long succession of scanty meals. After he has thus
profusely wasted his whole stock of provisions, he must again fast,
perhaps for days, or support existence by means of the few miserable
berries which the woods can afford him, till another deer falls in his
way, when the same scene of gluttony takes place, and the same course of
misery follows. If another has been more successful than himself, his
sense of justice is by far too weak to deter him from satisfying the
cravings of a famished appetite at whatever expense. He will not hesitate
to fight with his enemy for the sake of the animals he may have caught, or
even, in some instances, to murder him for the sake of the horrid repast
which his flesh may furnish. A want of the necessaries of life is said to
be the cause of those bloody contentions which are ever bursting forth
among savage tribes. And the cruel and merciless nature of that warfare
may be imagined, where the contest is not, as among civilized nations, for
some imaginary honour, or for some disputable territory; but, where the
prize of victory consists in the flesh of the vanquished. It is only
necessary to take into account the element of population, in order to
complete this revolting picture of human wretchedness. If the savage has
not foresight enough to provide for his own wants, it is not likely that
he will be more careful to provide for the wants of his family. In such a
state of society there can be no moral restraint to keep the population
within the bounds of an uncertain and scanty subsistence: these bounds,
however, it cannot exceed, and we may look for the positive checks which
restrain it, in those extirpating wars to which we have already alluded,
as well as in the licentious and impure habits of savages, and in those
famines and pestilential diseases which are occasioned by their wretched
mode of life.
In this state of things we
may suppose that some savage, who had often experienced the miseries of
extreme want, bethinks himself of laying up part of the provisions which
he has caught to-day, to insure against the uncertainty of to-morrow’s
expedition. We may suppose that he feels the benefit of this new
arrangement, and that, in consequence, he continues it. There may thus
originate in the mind of the savage, a sense of property. Savage, though
he be, he is yet man; and on man, even in this most degraded of all
conditions, may that rule of universal application have some influence,
"As ye would that others should do unto you, do ye even so to them." From
a feeling of attachment to his own property, and a wish to defend it from
the attacks of his neighbour, may he learn to have respect for the
property of others; and thus, from a sense of property, may there emerge a
sense of justice.
This, however, is an
important step in the progress of morality; and we shall find that it is
immediately followed by a step as important in the march of economic
improvement.
An example has been shown
of the good effects of foresight, and property is now in some degree
regarded; it therefore becomes a general custom among the savages to hoard
up the overplus of a successful hunting or fishing expedition, in order to
insure against future emergencies. By and by they perceive, that, if they
can but keep the cattle which they take, alive, they thus acquire a kind
of property, which not only furnishes a safeguard against future want, but
which has also this peculiar advantage, that it is continually increasing.
In a little time they find that this live stock, which is kept at home,
multiplies so rapidly, as not only to enable them to bear out against the
failure of a single expedition in fishing or the chase, but to render them
independent of fishing and the chase altogether. Though they can now live
without engaging in the toils of their old occupations, and are no longer
obliged to roam through the woods in search of subsistence, yet they are
by no means idle; their increasing flocks and herds demand every day more
and more of their attention. Instead of hunters and fishers, they now
become shepherds; and, to a state of most degraded barbarism, there now
succeeds the pastoral condition, greatly more improved indeed than the
former, yet still very far removed from a state of perfect civilization.
The pastoral condition is
one that has been a favourite theme with the poets of every age and
nation; and in their writings it has been pictured forth as a state of
purest simplicity and most perfect innocence. Green fields, and flowing
streams, and cattle browsing upon their banks, furnish indeed very
beautiful imagery for poetry, and naturally lead us to imagine how simple,
and how innocent their manners must be, who are conversant with objects so
pure and so peaceful. But there is a fearful contrast between the
face of external nature, and the heart of man. The curse that was
pronounced upon the ground, hath still left many a lovely trace of Eden
behind it; but that withering blight which hath gone forth over the face
of our moral scenery, hath left scarce a vestige in our world, of
primaeval sanctity and justice.
Notwithstanding all that
has been said or sung about the happiness, and the innocence of the
pastoral state, it seems to stand in the scale of morality and
civilization just where we have placed it, at a very small distance from
the grossest barbarism.
When once a number of
savages have turned from the ruder occupations of fishing and the chase,
to the tending of cattle, they find that the fodder of the place where
they dwell is soon consumed. They are thus obliged to proceed in search of
new pasture ground, which again is soon exhausted and left in its turn. In
this wandering condition they find it necessary to form little bands or
tribes, both for the purpose of self-defence, and also to enable them to
extirpate or expel from their territories, the inhabitants of such
districts, as may seem most fit to be converted into pasture ground for
their cattle. The morality of these pastoral tribes seems much akin to
that which is generally to be met with in a band of highwaymen, who must
necessarily keep up some semblance of justice among themselves, but whose
business it is to plunder everybody that does not belong to their gang.
This character but ill accords with that which is assigned to them in the
high-wrought descriptions of pastoral poetry; but unfortunately it is
their real one. Mr. Malthus, in his work on population, describes the
Scythian shepherds, as actuated by a most savage and destructive spirit;
and as an exemplification of this, he tells us that "when the Moguls had
subdued the northern provinces of China, it was proposed, in calm and
deliberate council, to exterminate all the inhabitants of that populous
country, that the vacant land might be converted to the pasture of
cattle."
The economic state of
pastoral nations, seems quite as miserable as their moral condition. There
is still but little of prudential restraint to confine the population
within the limits of subsistence; and still the checks, as in the case of
utter barbarism, are vice, and famine, and pestilence, and war.
It is long before, by that
gradual process of improvement which is going on in every society, the
morals of such a people are so far improved, as to give security
sufficient for carrying on the operations of agriculture: and it is still
longer, perhaps, before by their establishment prejudices are so far
removed, as to induce them to change the employment of the shepherd for
that of the husbandman. But when once this period arrives, improvement
advances apace. The land begins to yield a rent to the landlord. The
principle of the division of labour begins to operate. New inventions are
consequently made, and the productive powers of labour are almost
infinitely increased. A knowledge of science and the arts is disseminated,
and then follow in their train all the blessings of civilization and
refinement.
This process, tardy as it
is, seems to be the natural one, by which a society advances from a state
of barbarism to a civilized condition, and through the whole of it may we
behold how the moral and the economic blend together, and
mutually influence and affect each other. And it is a fact, not the least
deserving of our notice, in this beautiful process, that though the moral
and the economic are mutually subservient the one to the other, yet it is
the moral, generally speaking, which takes the lead. Where, by the gradual
progress of improvement, a change is effected in the moral condition of a
community, it is instantaneously followed up by a corresponding change in
its economic condition. And not one step can be taken in the path of
economic improvement, till the way has first been prepared by the
advancement of a purer morality. This fact, we apprehend, if properly
appreciated, would lead to the solution of a problem in economic science,
which has long engaged the attention of every genuine philanthropist. It
is a melancholy fact, that a very large portion of the human family are
still sunk in the depths of utter barbarism, or but a few steps removed
from it: and the problem is,—to civilize them. We are aware that nature
herself would accomplish the task in the lapse of ages, but the question
is, cannot we hasten her operations? It is extremely natural to suppose,
and, accordingly, it has been the opinion of most of the philosophers of
our day, that the way to solve this important problem, is to begin
directly by teaching the barbarians the arts of civilized life. If,
however, there be any truth in our remark, that the moral precedes and
paves the way for the economic in the natural progress of society, there
is a very strong presumption that we must observe the same order, when it
is our wish to hasten this natural progress. And if this be the case, we
should be prepared to expect, that the plan we have mentioned, however
well it promised as a theory, would prove unsuccessful when brought to the
test of actual experiment. And it has accordingly proved so. A class of
men, who have ever stood among the foremost in the enterprises of
philanthropy, have made an attempt, upon this plan, to civilize the Indian
tribes of North America: but so far as we have heard, their efforts have
proved unsuccessful. Nor need we wonder that such has been the result of
their operations. However zealous they may have been in their endeavours,
they have been working at the wrong end of the lever. The way one would
think, were, first, to elevate the moral feeling of the barbarian; and
then, having thus paved the way for economic improvement, to superinduce
those instructions which might hasten the progress of civilization and
refinement. On this plan, too, the experiment has been tried, not in one
country, or among savages of one disposition; but the arena of its
operations has been chosen from every latitude in either hemisphere of our
globe, — from the frozen regions, encircled by the Northern Sea, to the
distant islands of the Southern Ocean: and wherever the experiment has
been fairly tried, it has been universally attended by a greater or less
degree of success. And yet, strange as it may seem, the originators of
this plan have been laughed at as enthusiasts; and they who have devoted
their lives to carry it into execution, and who have told of its success,
have been reviled as hypocrites and liars. And that, not because the plan
has failed in its operations, or because there has not been sufficient
evidence of its success, but because of the seeming insignificancy of the
means by which this mighty work is achieving. it is because they are not
the philosophers of this world who are its executors, but those whom the
philosophers of this world too often despise. It is because they are not
the manuals of philosophy which have guided its operations, but that book
which philosophers have too frequently rejected.
But we shall be very much
deceived, if we imagine that all that can he done for a country, is to
civilize it; and that, after this has been effected, the comforts of this
life are secured to every individual within its borders. Such, indeed, is
the vast increase in the productive powers of labour, that the very lowest
member of a civilized community, has a greater command over the comforts
of life, than the prince of any savage nation. But even in a civilized
community do we find much of economic wretchedness. After we have
succeeded in solving the problem, "to civilize a society," there still
remains to be solved another economic problem of the last importance; and
one which has long occupied the attention of philanthropists, both in our
own and other civilized nations. It is to elevate the condition of the
poor.
In the attempts which have
been made, in our own country, to solve this problem, and in what we
consider the only effective method of accomplishing this task, do we think
that we have several beautiful illustrations of the way in which the moral
and the economic mutually influence and affect each other; and to this
subject, therefore, we propose chiefly to direct our attention in the
remainder of this essay.
After the division of
labour has allotted to each individual his peculiar employment, and stock
has been accumulated, and land appropriated, the inhabitants of every
society are divided into three grand classes.
The first consists of
those, who, by the labour of their hands, work up commodities both for
their own consumption, and that of the other classes, and are thus the
originators of the whole wealth of the society. The second class consists
of those, who, in virtue of a capital, which either they or their
progenitors have accumulated, are enabled to furnish the labouring class
with the implements of their industry, and to support them till the
produce of their labour finds a market: and who, in return for these
important services, lay claim to a part of the produce of their labour.
The third class consists of those who, in virtue of a possessory right,
lay claim to the earth, that great implement of industry, and who derive a
revenue by lending out this implement to the other classes.
On taking an abstract view
of these three classes, we should least of all expect, that that class
should be the poorest which furnishes the wealth of the whole society.
Experience, however, teaches us that that class of the community who do
most, are the worst rewarded; while they who do little, are in comfortable
circumstances; and they who do least, are overflowing in wealth.
It has, accordingly, been
almost universally the custom to declaim against landlords and
capitalists, as if they were the authors of all the misery which exists
among the working classes: as if it were their avarice and their injustice
which had wrested from the most useful class of the community, that wealth
which their own hands so laboriously had earned. But it is not the
landlords who are the authors of this misery; it is not the capitalists
who are the authors of it: in very deed, it is the labourers themselves
who are the authors of it. Were but their manners virtuous, and their
habits prudential, they might bid proud defiance to their haughty
superiors, and might refuse to treat with them but on honourable terms.
They, and not their employers, are the arbitrators of their wages. But it
is the vices to which they are wedded, which, like the false mistress of
Samson, have betrayed to their enemies the secret of their strength: it is
their own improvident habits which have brought them down from that lofty
vantage-ground which else they might occupy, and have placed them at the
mercy of their employers: it is their own over-grown numbers which have
reduced them to the point of starvation, and have thus compelled them,
like the inhabitants of a blockaded city, who are hard pressed by the
horrors of a famine, to submit to any terms, however humiliating, which
their masters may be pleased to hold out.
This miserable condition of
the working class, when contrasted with the ease and affluence of the
other two, may not appear so anomalous, if we but consider the matter a
little more attentively. There are comparatively few who are born heirs to
fortunes or landed property, and still fewer who acquire either, by dint
of their own exertions; but, on the other hand, many who lose both by
carelessness or extravagance. The working class is thus, not only
naturally by far the most numerous, but is continually exposed to the
overflowings of the other two. It requires an effort to resist the force
of the current, which carries downward, and the most strenuous exertions
seldom prove successful in the attempt to move upward against it. The
demand for labour, however, is necessarily limited; and it is the eager
competition which takes place among labourers, for subsistence, which is
the cause of the miserable condition of the working classes.
This misery has attracted
the notice of our legislators, and an attempt has been made, on their
part, to relieve it. But in this attempt they have committed the same
error as those philanthropists whom we formerly mentioned as having made
an unsuccessful effort towards the civilization of the North American
Indians. They have wrought at the wrong end of the lever. They have not
adverted to the fact, that it is moral derangement which is the cause of
economic misery; and that, therefore, in every improvement, the moral must
take the precedency of the economic. Their experiment, accordingly, has
hitherto not only failed, but has tended to aggravate the evil which it
was meant to cure.
The greatest expedient by
which it has been attempted to relieve the misery of the working classes,
is that system of legalized charity, which is enforced, by what are
usually called, the poor laws of England. We give credit to the
benevolent feeling which prompted the enactment of those laws. It was a
zeal in the cause of philanthropy which dictated the measure; but,
unfortunately, it was a zeal not according to knowledge. Our legislators
seem, in this instance, to have acted like that physician, who should
administer water to allay the thirst of a patient in a dropsy, and thereby
increase the virulence of the disease, for the sake of giving the sufferer
a few moments of temporary relief. When the Parliament of England framed
the system of English pauperism, they were guilty of two inadvertencies.
In the first place, they did not advert to the nature of the evil which it
was their object to cure; for, had they but discovered its cause, they
would at once have perceived that it was their business to set to work in
a very different way; to remove, if possible, the cause of the evil, with
the full assurance that the removal of the evil itself would be the
necessary consequence; and aware, that while the cause of the evil
continued in full operation, all their attempts to remove the evil itself
would prove utterly vain. In the second place, they forgot that that same
compassion which dictated their well-meant exertions, was not confined to
them alone, but glowed as fervently in every English bosom. The first of
these things our legislators did not perceive, or they would have
conducted the business in a very different manner. The second, they did
not advert to, or they would never have proceeded a single step in the
business at all.
The present system of
English pauperism has been productive of two very great evils, arising
from these two inadvertencies of its originators. In the first place, it
has prevented the operation of those effectual remedies which nature has
provided for the relief of existing misery. And in the second place, it
has contributed very much to add to the numbers of the wretched.
The first and greatest of
those remedies which nature has provided for the relief of existing
misery, is the relative affections. The filial and parental affections are
perhaps the strongest and most universal instinct we know of. They have
been implanted in us by a wise Creator, for the most important ends, and
were we altogether deprived of them, society could not exist. They are not
confined to man alone, but are shared with him by all the tribes of
animated nature; so that, to deprive him of these affections were to sink
him below the level of the inferior creation. Yet this, to a certain
extent at least, is the effect of English pauperism. It is the
helplessness of tender infancy and childhood, and of decrepit old age,
which calls into action, with all their vigour, the family affections. The
poor laws, however, have provided both for the helplessness of youth, and
the infirmity of age, and have thus contributed to burst asunder the
strongest and tenderest ties of our nature. Nor is this an assertion that
is unsupported by facts. There are instances in which a parent has
actually disclaimed his own children, and has told the overseer of the
parish that it is none of his business to provide for them; that the
parish must find work for them, or support them, if it cannot.
If the poor laws have
extinguished those natural affections which subsist between members of the
same family, we cannot expect that they have left uninjured those mutual
sympathies which reciprocate between the inhabitants of the same
neighbourhood; far less those more distant expressions of kindness which
descend upon the wretched from the coffers of the rich.
But were this all the
mischief the poor laws had done, there might still be found some to
advocate the cause of pauperism. It might he argued for this system of
legalized charity, that if it has destroyed the natural remedies for
existing misery, it has substituted in their place an artificial remedy,
equally effective; that a provision for the distressed is still as sure as
before, though it flows through a different channel.
It were but a silly excuse
for complicating a clock or a watch with a great deal of intricate
mechanism, that the additional work had the wonderful property of
rectifying those defects of which itself was the cause, and that the
instrument answered its end every whit as well as it did before. But even
such a defence, weak as it is, cannot be advanced for English pauperism.
The evils which we have
mentioned, are, after all, but the least which pauperism has effected. Not
only has it prevented the operation of those remedies which nature has
provided for existing misery, but it has actually increased this misery.
Its regulations, by insuring against the wretchedness which they generally
occasion, have thrown down those barriers which naturally restrain from
vice and imprudence. Imprudence qualifies an individual for receiving
parish support; and vice, at least, does not disqualify us. For the first
of these positions there is sufficient evidence in the fact, that single
persons, when the overseer has refused to enrol them on the list of
paupers, have flatly told him, that if he do not give them the usual
parish allowance, they will go away and marry, and thus compel the parish
to support, not only themselves, but also their families. Of the latter
position, that vice is no disqualification, we have a most palpable
illustration, in the case of an individual, who on the overseers refusing
to give him any support at all, on the ground of his possessing some
property of his own, most impudently threatened to go to the next
ale-house, and there spend his all in dissipation, in order that he might
more effectually burden the parish by compelling it to give him a full
allowance.
But the greatest mischief
of all, perhaps, of which pauperism has been the cause, is, that it not
only adds to the numbers of the miserable, by destroying the prudential
habits of a great part of the community, but that it deteriorates the
economic condition even of those whose confirmed habits of sobriety and
industry have withstood its baneful influence. The composition of wages
with parish allowance, is perhaps the most mischievous part of all this
mischievous system. If our legislators did mean to give the poor a title
to legal support, it were better far, that in every instance, they had
made the parish allowance sufficient to maintain the pauper entirely, and
that they had never had recourse to the ruinous experiment of compounding
this allowance with the ordinary reward of labour.
In this case all the evils
we have already mentioned, would no doubt have followed, but there is one
very great evil, which would have been in a great measure prevented, the
reduction of the wages of the independent part of the working classes.
In the present state of
things, let a man be ever so industrious, and ever so sober, and ever so
prudent, it is absolutely impossible for him to better his condition, so
long as pauperism sends forth her myriads of labourers to compete with him
at any price, however low, which the employer may choose to offer. It is
true, that the working classes have the power of regulating their own
wages; but it is not one individual, or a number of individuals, who can
effect this. It requires a combination of, at least, a very considerable
portion of the labouring community; and to this most desirable of all
ends, pauperism presents a most insuperable obstacle.
But we have, perhaps,
entered too much into detail, in enumerating the evils of a system, with
regard to whose mischievous tendency, every body seems now to be perfectly
agreed. It requires not now a well argued representation, to convince
people of the evils of pauperism. It has long been felt, experimentally,
to be the scourge of our nation. The question is not now, — Should the
poor laws be abolished? but,—Can they be abolished with safety? And, if
so, How is this most desirable end to be accomplished? It must be palpable
to every one, that the poor laws of England are now so enwoven into the
very constitution of society, and so amalgamated with the manners of a
very considerable portion of the people, that a sudden repeal of them
would be an experiment attended with the most dangerous consequences.
There is every reason to fear, that, were the Parliament of Great Britain,
by a single act of their authority, at once to disinherit every pauper of
his wonted allowance, the result might be nothing less than a rebellion;
and that the precipitancy of such a measure could scarce fail to land us
in all the horrors of internal commotion. In attempting the cure of a
disease so virulent, and which has its seat so deep in the constitution of
the society, the greatest care must be taken, lest, in the attempt to
extract the part that is diseased, we pierce the very vitals, or let flow
the life-blood of the body politic. If pauperism is ever to be abolished,
it must be by a gradual process. The abolition of the poor laws must be
the work, not of a day, but of months and of years.
It must, in fact, be a work
of prevention, rather than of cure. It were cruelty, — it were madness, to
snatch their wretched pittance from the present dependants on the vestry.
The present race of paupers must be permitted to die away, in the quiet
possession of their rights: and it must be made the main concern, not to
cure the evil which exists, but to prevent the evil which threatens.
The whole system of
pauperism may, we think, be illustrated by the case of a machine, which
has gone into disorder, and whose errors are attempted to be rectified by
one who is unacquainted with its internal mechanism. We shall suppose that
the machine is a watch, and that, from some cause or other, it does not
keep time. The most palpable method of rectifying this error, which would
occur to one that was ignorant of its cause, would be, to move backward or
forward, as the case might require, the hands on the dial-plate. But it
would soon be evident, that this was but a temporary remedy, and that the
index of the watch, in a short time deviated as far as ever from pointing
out the real hour. Temporary, however, and withal troublesome as this
remedy undoubtedly would be, it might come, by frequent repetition, to
have at least the semblance of efficiency. And yet might it happen, that
this continued application of external force to the hands of the
dial-plate, was, all the time, doing violence to the internal mechanism of
the watch; and thus, instead of diminishing, was continually increasing
the real cause of the evil. Let us now suppose, that the watch is put into
the hands of one who is intimately acquainted with the construction and
arrangement of all its parts; and let us try to perceive, wherein the
method which he takes to rectify its movements, differs from that which
the first individual pursued. The existing error, he will treat just as it
had been treated before: he will apply an external force to the hands of
the watch. But he will not be satisfied with this. He will search amid the
intricacies of the internal mechanism, for that which has been the cause
of the error; and it may be by a slight touch of the regulator, he will
effectually prevent the recurrence of the error in time to come.
Now it has thus happened
with the vast engine of the community: its mechanism has been deranged, —
and without searching for the cause of this derangement, it has been
attempted to rectify it by the application of an extraneous remedy. This
remedy was found to effect only a temporary cure, and accordingly it was
frequently repeated. It is now found, however, that this continuous
application of external force, has tended to derange more and more the
internal mechanism of this mighty engine. So fearfully has the evil
increased, that every one now perceives that some new method must be
adopted. But there is a dread, lest, if we all at once give up this
external rectification, which confessedly, however, is every day
augmenting the cause of the evil, this mighty machine may go into utter
disarrangement. There is then a dilemma, and either alternative seems
attended with the most dangerous results. The only way, which seems at
once safe and effectual, is to proceed, as in the case of our
illustration; to treat the existing evil as it has been treated all along,
but to prevent the future evil, by an alteration in the inner mechanism of
the machine. And it is interesting to observe, that the analogy holds
still further. As in the case of the watch, a very slight alteration of
the regulator may be sufficient to counteract a very great deviation from
the truth in the hands of the dial-plate; so, in the case of a community,
the cause of the economic misery which exists among the working classes,
is, after all, but slight, and consequently can be easily removed.
From these observations, it
appears, that there are two grand points which must be kept in view, in
any attempt to abolish the system of English pauperism. First, that the
abolition of the system should be so complete, that no future amendment
might be required; and yet, that in the second place, it should be so
gradual as to cause no sudden disrupture. We may just briefly remark,
without entering into details, that both these points may be attained by a
mode of policy similar to that which has been employed with regard to the
enclosure of English commons. It is interesting to observe, how, on the
abolition of pauperism, the relief which nature has provided for misery,
begins again to operate; and those numerous fountains of benevolence,
which had been frozen up, under its cold and cheerless influence, again
begin to flow. And still more interesting is it to observe, how soon our
population will shake off that lethargic indifference about the future,
which the provisions of legalized charity so long, have fostered; and, how
soon prudential restraint will again reduce the numbers of a community,
whose overgrown size has been the great cause of their misery.
But we are not so sanguine
in our expectations, as to suppose that the abolition of pauperism would
procure for the working classes, all the ease, and all the comfort, we
could desire to see them possessed of. We assuredly do suppose, however,
that by its abolition, a mighty obstacle would be removed which at present
destroys the effectiveness of those means which are employing to
accomplish this most desirable end. It is well, perhaps, that the evils of
pauperism are continually increasing; for this is a circumstance which
ensures it speedy abolition. The system cannot work much longer. Things
must soon come to a crisis. And what our legislators are now unwilling to
do, at the instigation of reason, they will soon be compelled to perform
by the power of an irresistible necessity.
Besides the system of
pauperism, there are yet two other obstacles which have hitherto stood in
the way of those philanthropic exertions which are now making in every
quarter, for elevating the condition of the working classes. The first is,
the law against combinations of workmen, for the purpose of raising their
wages. The second is, the want of a small capital among the operatives, to
enable them to stand out till their masters may accede to their terms.
Happily the first of these obstacles is now removed; and an attempt has
been made to remove the second, which bids fair to prove successful. For
the repeal of the combination laws, the labouring classes are indebted to
the enlightened policy of the present age, which has at length taught our
legislators, the absurdity of compelling an individual, in a country which
boasts of its liberties, to sell his labour at a price which can barely
supply him with the necessaries of life, and all for the purpose of
keeping up the wealth and the dignity of his more affluent
fellow-countrymen. For an attempt to remove the second obstacle to which
we have alluded, our operatives are indebted to a zealous and
philanthropic minister of the Church of Scotland.
This gentleman has
succeeded in establishing, in his own parish, and in several other parts
of the country, those admirable institutions, which are now beginning to
be generally known, by the name of Saving Banks; institutions where the
humble shilling of the labourer is received, with as much thankfulness,
and tendered back to him when demanded, with as much promptness and
affability, as is the most valuable deposit of his wealthy employer. It is
a very remarkable coincidence, and one which augurs well for the future
prospects of the labouring classes, that these two circumstances should
have occurred, as if to give them every opportunity of profiting by their
elevated standard of enjoyment, just at the time when, by means altogether
different, it was in contemplation to elevate that standard. These means
are now beginning their operation; and there is reason to expect, that the
opportunities of moral and scientific instruction will soon he patent to
every individual in the society. Among these means, we might enumerate our
schools of arts, and our reading societies for the instruction of the old;
and our parish and Sabbath-schools for the education of the young.
These are institutions
which have already been productive of the most salutary results, and of
whose beneficent influence we may yet hope to behold more visible
manifestations written upon the face of our country. By their
instrumentality may we hope, even within the short period of our
life-time, to see the balance of society more equally poised, —to behold
our landlords retrenching a few of their more extravagant superfluities,
in order to supply more liberally, with the comforts and conveniences of
life, by far the most deserving class of the community.
On the whole there seems
something like the dawning of a brighter era in the history of our world.
Whether we listen to those cheering reports, which are daily arriving from
the friends of religion and philanthropy abroad, or direct our regards to
the animating prospects of our home population; we cannot help thinking,
that we already descry the visible approach of a period which has long
been expected by the Christian, as well as dreamt of, and longed for by
the infidel philosopher; a period, which, by the plenty and the happiness
that shall be showered down upon every family, and by the fidelity, and
the justice, and the benevolence, that shall animate every bosom, will
outvie the high-wrought descriptions of a golden age, which poetic fancy
has imagined.
We, at least, who believe
in the divine inspiration of the Bible, can look forward with joyful
anticipation, to that time, when, in the language of the prophecy which
has foretold its coming, "the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth
as the waters cover the channel of the deep." And then, under the
influence of that pure and elevated morality, which Christianity shall
universally diffuse, might we confidently predict, that the economic
condition of society shall assume a brighter aspect than ever yet it hath
worn, since that day when man was driven from the blissful bowers of his
first inheritance, and was condemned to earn his bread by the sweat of his
brow. Then shall those private animosities and heart-burnings, which now
embitter the joys of social intercourse, be for ever extinguished: and
then, too, shall the tribes of the human family forget those quarrels,
which so long have been the scourge of this fair world; "nation shall not
rise up against nation, neither shall they learn the art of war any more."
"ST. ANDREW’S, April, 1825.
"A truly admirable essay, replete with
sound judgment, and felicitous illustration; and announcing itself, at the
first glance, as worthy of the highest prize.
"THOMAS CHALMERS."