Mr Godwin's system of equality--Error of attributing all the vices of
mankind to human institutions--Mr Godwin's first answer to the
difficulty arising from population totally insufficient--Mr Godwin's
beautiful system of equality supposed to be realized--Its utter
destruction simply from the principle of population in so short a time
as thirty years.
In reading Mr Godwin's ingenious and able work on political justice, it
is impossible not to be struck with the spirit and energy of his style,
the force and precision of some of his reasonings, the ardent tone of
his thoughts, and particularly with that impressive earnestness of
manner which gives an air of truth to the whole. At the same time, it
must be confessed that he has not proceeded in his inquiries with the
caution that sound philosophy seems to require. His conclusions are
often unwarranted by his premises. He fails sometimes in removing the
objections which he himself brings forward. He relies too much on
general and abstract propositions which will not admit of application.
And his conjectures certainly far outstrip the modesty of nature.
The system of equality which Mr Godwin proposes is, without doubt, by
far the most beautiful and engaging of any that has yet appeared. An
amelioration of society to be produced merely by reason and conviction
wears much more the promise of permanence than any change effected and
maintained by force. The unlimited exercise of private judgement is a
doctrine inexpressibly grand and captivating and has a vast superiority
over those systems where every individual is in a manner the slave of
the public. The substitution of benevolence as the master-spring and
moving principle of society, instead of self-love, is a consummation
devoutly to be wished. In short, it is impossible to contemplate the
whole of this fair structure without emotions of delight and
admiration, accompanied with ardent longing for the period of its
accomplishment. But, alas! that moment can never arrive. The whole is
little better than a dream, a beautiful phantom of the imagination.
These 'gorgeous palaces' of happiness and immortality, these 'solemn
temples' of truth and virtue will dissolve, 'like the baseless fabric
of a vision', when we awaken to real life and contemplate the true and
genuine situation of man on earth. Mr Godwin, at the conclusion of the
third chapter of his eighth book, speaking of population, says:
There is a principle in human society, by which population is
perpetually kept down to the level of the means of subsistence. Thus
among the wandering tribes of America and Asia, we never find through
the lapse of ages that population has so increased as to render
necessary the cultivation of the earth.
This principle, which Mr Godwin thus mentions as some mysterious and
occult cause and which he does not attempt to investigate, will be
found to be the grinding law of necessity, misery, and the fear of
misery.
The great error under which Mr Godwin labours throughout his whole work
is the attributing almost all the vices and misery that are seen in
civil society to human institutions. Political regulations and the
established administration of property are with him the fruitful
sources of all evil, the hotbeds of all the crimes that degrade
mankind. Were this really a true state of the case, it would not seem a
hopeless task to remove evil completely from the world, and reason
seems to be the proper and adequate instrument for effecting so great a
purpose. But the truth is, that though human institutions appear to be
the obvious and obtrusive causes of much mischief to mankind, yet in
reality they are light and superficial, they are mere feathers that
float on the surface, in comparison with those deeper seated causes of
impurity that corrupt the springs and render turbid the whole stream of
human life.
Mr Godwin, in his chapter on the benefits attendant on a system of
equality, says:
The spirit of oppression, the spirit of servility, and the spirit of
fraud, these are the immediate growth of the established administration
of property. They are alike hostile to intellectual improvement. The
other vices of envy, malice, and revenge are their inseparable
companions. In a state of society where men lived in the midst of
plenty and where all shared alike the bounties of nature, these
sentiments would inevitably expire. The narrow principle of selfishness
would vanish. No man being obliged to guard his little store or provide
with anxiety and pain for his restless wants, each would lose his
individual existence in the thought of the general good. No man would
be an enemy to his neighbour, for they would have no subject of
contention, and, of consequence, philanthropy would resume the empire
which reason assigns her. Mind would be delivered from her perpetual
anxiety about corporal support, and free to expatiate in the field of
thought, which is congenial to her. Each would assist the inquiries of
all.
This would, indeed, be a happy state. But that it is merely an
imaginary picture, with scarcely a feature near the truth, the reader,
I am afraid, is already too well convinced.
Man cannot live in the midst of plenty. All cannot share alike the
bounties of nature. Were there no established administration of
property, every man would be obliged to guard with force his little
store. Selfishness would be triumphant. The subjects of contention
would be perpetual. Every individual mind would be under a constant
anxiety about corporal support, and not a single intellect would be
left free to expatiate in the field of thought.
How little Mr Godwin has turned the attention of his penetrating mind
to the real state of man on earth will sufficiently appear from the
manner in which he endeavours to remove the difficulty of an
overcharged population. He says:
The obvious answer to this objection, is, that to reason thus is to
foresee difficulties at a great distance. Three fourths of the
habitable globe is now uncultivated. The parts already cultivated are
capable of immeasurable improvement. Myriads of centuries of still
increasing population may pass away, and the earth be still found
sufficient for the subsistence of its inhabitants.
I have already pointed out the error of supposing that no distress and
difficulty would arise from an overcharged population before the earth
absolutely refused to produce any more. But let us imagine for a moment
Mr Godwin's beautiful system of equality realized in its utmost purity,
and see how soon this difficulty might be expected to press under so
perfect a form of society. A theory that will not admit of application
cannot possibly be just.
Let us suppose all the causes of misery and vice in this island
removed. War and contention cease. Unwholesome trades and manufactories
do not exist. Crowds no longer collect together in great and pestilent
cities for purposes of court intrigue, of commerce, and vicious
gratifications. Simple, healthy, and rational amusements take place of
drinking, gaming, and debauchery. There are no towns sufficiently large
to have any prejudicial effects on the human constitution. The greater
part of the happy inhabitants of this terrestrial paradise live in
hamlets and farmhouses scattered over the face of the country. Every
house is clean, airy, sufficiently roomy, and in a healthy situation.
All men are equal. The labours of luxury are at end. And the necessary
labours of agriculture are shared amicably among all. The number of
persons, and the produce of the island, we suppose to be the same as at
present. The spirit of benevolence, guided by impartial justice, will
divide this produce among all the members of the society according to
their wants. Though it would be impossible that they should all have
animal food every day, yet vegetable food, with meat occasionally,
would satisfy the desires of a frugal people and would be sufficient to
preserve them in health, strength, and spirits.
Mr Godwin considers marriage as a fraud and a monopoly. Let us suppose
the commerce of the sexes established upon principles of the most
perfect freedom. Mr Godwin does not think himself that this freedom
would lead to a promiscuous intercourse, and in this I perfectly agree
with him. The love of variety is a vicious, corrupt, and unnatural
taste and could not prevail in any great degree in a simple and
virtuous state of society. Each man would probably select himself a
partner, to whom he would adhere as long as that adherence continued to
be the choice of both parties. It would be of little consequence,
according to Mr Godwin, how many children a woman had or to whom they
belonged. Provisions and assistance would spontaneously flow from the
quarter in which they abounded, to the quarter that was deficient. (See
Bk VIII, ch. 8; in the third edition, Vol II, p. 512) And every man
would be ready to furnish instruction to the rising generation
according to his capacity.
I cannot conceive a form of society so favourable upon the whole to
population. The irremediableness of marriage, as it is at present
constituted, undoubtedly deters many from entering into that state. An
unshackled intercourse on the contrary would be a most powerful
incitement to early attachments, and as we are supposing no anxiety
about the future support of children to exist, I do not conceive that
there would be one woman in a hundred, of twenty-three, without a
family.
With these extraordinary encouragements to population, and every cause
of depopulation, as we have supposed, removed, the numbers would
necessarily increase faster than in any society that has ever yet been
known. I have mentioned, on the authority of a pamphlet published by a
Dr Styles and referred to by Dr Price, that the inhabitants of the back
settlements of America doubled their numbers in fifteen years. England
is certainly a more healthy country than the back settlements of
America, and as we have supposed every house in the island to be airy
and wholesome, and the encouragements to have a family greater even
than with the back settlers, no probable reason can be assigned why the
population should not double itself in less, if possible, than fifteen
years. But to be quite sure that we do not go beyond the truth, we will
only suppose the period of doubling to be twenty-five years, a ratio of
increase which is well known to have taken place throughout all the
Northern States of America.
There can be little doubt that the equalization of property which we
have supposed, added to the circumstance of the labour of the whole
community being directed chiefly to agriculture, would tend greatly to
augment the produce of the country. But to answer the demands of a
population increasing so rapidly, Mr Godwin's calculation of half an
hour a day for each man would certainly not be sufficient. It is
probable that the half of every man's time must be employed for this
purpose. Yet with such, or much greater exertions, a person who is
acquainted with the nature of the soil in this country, and who
reflects on the fertility of the lands already in cultivation, and the
barrenness of those that are not cultivated, will be very much disposed
to doubt whether the whole average produce could possibly be doubled in
twenty-five years from the present period. The only chance of success
would be the ploughing up all the grazing countries and putting an end
almost entirely to the use of animal food. Yet a part of this scheme
might defeat itself. The soil of England will not produce much without
dressing, and cattle seem to be necessary to make that species of
manure which best suits the land. In China it is said that the soil in
some of the provinces is so fertile as to produce two crops of rice in
the year without dressing. None of the lands in England will answer to
this description.
Difficult, however, as it might be to double the average produce of the
island in twenty-five years, let us suppose it effected. At the
expiration of the first period therefore, the food, though almost
entirely vegetable, would be sufficient to support in health the
doubled population of fourteen millions.
During the next period of doubling, where will the food be found to
satisfy the importunate demands of the increasing numbers? Where is the
fresh land to turn up? Where is the dressing necessary to improve that
which is already in cultivation? There is no person with the smallest
knowledge of land but would say that it was impossible that the average
produce of the country could be increased during the second twenty-five
years by a quantity equal to what it at present yields. Yet we will
suppose this increase, however improbable, to take place. The exuberant
strength of the argument allows of almost any concession. Even with
this concession, however, there would be seven millions at the
expiration of the second term unprovided for. A quantity of food equal
to the frugal support of twenty-one millions, would be to be divided
among twenty-eight millions.
Alas! what becomes of the picture where men lived in the midst of
plenty, where no man was obliged to provide with anxiety and pain for
his restless wants, where the narrow principle of selfishness did not
exist, where Mind was delivered from her perpetual anxiety about
corporal support and free to expatiate in the field of thought which is
congenial to her. This beautiful fabric of imagination vanishes at the
severe touch of truth. The spirit of benevolence, cherished and
invigorated by plenty, is repressed by the chilling breath of want. The
hateful passions that had vanished reappear. The mighty law of
self-preservation expels all the softer and more exalted emotions of
the soul. The temptations to evil are too strong for human nature to
resist. The corn is plucked before it is ripe, or secreted in unfair
proportions, and the whole black train of vices that belong to
falsehood are immediately generated. Provisions no longer flow in for
the support of the mother with a large family. The children are sickly
from insufficient food. The rosy flush of health gives place to the
pallid cheek and hollow eye of misery. Benevolence, yet lingering in a
few bosoms, makes some faint expiring struggles, till at length
self-love resumes his wonted empire and lords it triumphant over the
world.
No human institutions here existed, to the perverseness of which Mr
Godwin ascribes the original sin of the worst men. (Bk VIII, ch. 3; in
the third edition, Vol. II, p. 462) No opposition had been produced by
them between public and private good. No monopoly had been created of
those advantages which reason directs to be left in common. No man had
been goaded to the breach of order by unjust laws. Benevolence had
established her reign in all hearts: and yet in so short a period as
within fifty years, violence, oppression, falsehood, misery, every
hateful vice, and every form of distress, which degrade and sadden the
present state of society, seem to have been generated by the most
imperious circumstances, by laws inherent in the nature of man, and
absolutely independent of it human regulations.
If we are not yet too well convinced of the reality of this melancholy
picture, let us but look for a moment into the next period of
twenty-five years; and we shall see twenty-eight millions of human
beings without the means of support; and before the conclusion of the
first century, the population would be one hundred and twelve millions,
and the food only sufficient for thirty-five millions, leaving
seventy-seven millions unprovided for. In these ages want would be
indeed triumphant, and rapine and murder must reign at large: and yet
all this time we are supposing the produce of the earth absolutely
unlimited, and the yearly increase greater than the boldest speculator
can imagine.
This is undoubtedly a very different view of the difficulty arising
from population from that which Mr Godwin gives, when he says, 'Myriads
of centuries of still increasing population may pass away, and the
earth be still found sufficient for the subsistence of its inhabitants.'
I am sufficiently aware that the redundant twenty-eight millions, or
seventy-seven millions, that I have mentioned, could never have
existed. It is a perfectly just observation of Mr Godwin, that, 'There
is a principle in human society, by which population is perpetually
kept down to the level of the means of subsistence.' The sole question
is, what is this principle? is it some obscure and occult cause? Is it
some mysterious interference of heaven which, at a certain period,
strikes the men with impotence, and the women with barrenness? Or is it
a cause, open to our researches, within our view, a cause, which has
constantly been observed to operate, though with varied force, in every
state in which man has been placed? Is it not a degree of misery, the
necessary and inevitable result of the laws of nature, which human
institutions, so far from aggravating, have tended considerably to
mitigate, though they never can remove?
It may be curious to observe, in the case that we have been supposing,
how some of the laws which at present govern civilized society, would
be successively dictated by the most imperious necessity. As man,
according to Mr Godwin, is the creature of the impressions to which he
is subject, the goadings of want could not continue long, before some
violations of public or private stock would necessarily take place. As
these violations increased in number and extent, the more active and
comprehensive intellects of the society would soon perceive, that while
population was fast increasing, the yearly produce of the country would
shortly begin to diminish. The urgency of the case would suggest the
necessity of some mediate measures to be taken for the general safety.
Some kind of convention would then be called, and the dangerous
situation of the country stated in the strongest terms. It would be
observed, that while they lived in the midst of plenty, it was of
little consequence who laboured the least, or who possessed the least,
as every man was perfectly willing and ready to supply the wants of his
neighbour. But that the question was no longer whether one man should
give to another that which he did not use himself, but whether he
should give to his neighbour the food which was absolutely necessary to
his own existence. It would be represented, that the number of those
that were in want very greatly exceeded the number and means of those
who should supply them; that these pressing wants, which from the state
of the produce of the country could not all be gratified, had
occasioned some flagrant violations of justice; that these violations
had already checked the increase of food, and would, if they were not
by some means or other prevented, throw the whole community in
confusion; that imperious necessity seemed to dictate that a yearly
increase of produce should, if possible, be obtained at all events;
that in order to effect this first, great, and indispensable purpose,
it would be advisable to make a more complete division of land, and to
secure every man's stock against violation by the most powerful
sanctions, even by death itself.
It might be urged perhaps by some objectors that, as the fertility of
the land increased, and various accidents occurred, the share of some
men might be much more than sufficient for their support, and that when
the reign of self-love was once established, they would not distribute
their surplus produce without some compensation in return. It would be
observed, in answer, that this was an inconvenience greatly to be
lamented; but that it was an evil which bore no comparison to the black
train of distresses that would inevitably be occasioned by the
insecurity of property; that the quantity of food which one man could
consume was necessarily limited by the narrow capacity of the human
stomach; that it was not certainly probable that he should throw away
the rest; but that even if he exchanged his surplus food for the labour
of others, and made them in some degree dependent on him, this would
still be better than that these others should absolutely starve.
It seems highly probable, therefore, that an administration of
property, not very different from that which prevails in civilized
states at present, would be established, as the best, though
inadequate, remedy for the evils which were pressing on the society.
The next subject that would come under discussion, intimately connected
with the preceding, is the commerce between the sexes. It would be
urged by those who had turned their attention to the true cause of the
difficulties under which the community laboured, that while every man
felt secure that all his children would be well provided for by general
benevolence, the powers of the earth would be absolutely inadequate to
produce food for the population which would inevitably ensue; that even
if the whole attention and labour of the society were directed to this
sole point, and if, by the most perfect security of property, and every
other encouragement that could be thought of, the greatest possible
increase of produce were yearly obtained; yet still, that the increase
of food would by no means keep pace with the much more rapid increase
of population; that some check to population therefore was imperiously
called for; that the most natural and obvious check seemed to be to
make every man provide for his own children; that this would operate in
some respect as a measure and guide in the increase of population, as
it might be expected that no man would bring beings into the world, for
whom he could not find the means of support; that where this
notwithstanding was the case, it seemed necessary, for the example of
others, that the disgrace and inconvenience attending such a conduct
should fall upon the individual, who had thus inconsiderately plunged
himself and innocent children in misery and want.
The institution of marriage, or at least, of some express or implied
obligation on every man to support his own children, seems to be the
natural result of these reasonings in a community under the
difficulties that we have supposed.
The view of these difficulties presents us with a very natural origin
of the superior disgrace which attends a breach of chastity in the
woman than in the man. It could not be expected that women should have
resources sufficient to support their own children. When therefore a
woman was connected with a man, who had entered into no compact to
maintain her children, and, aware of the inconveniences that he might
bring upon himself, had deserted her, these children must necessarily
fall for support upon the society, or starve. And to prevent the
frequent recurrence of such an inconvenience, as it would be highly
unjust to punish so natural a fault by personal restraint or
infliction, the men might agree to punish it with disgrace. The offence
is besides more obvious and conspicuous in the woman, and less liable
to any mistake. The father of a child may not always be known, but the
same uncertainty cannot easily exist with regard to the mother. Where
the evidence of the offence was most complete, and the inconvenience to
the society at the same time the greatest, there it was agreed that the
large share of blame should fall. The obligation on every man to
maintain his children, the society would enforce, if there were
occasion; and the greater degree of inconvenience or labour, to which a
family would necessarily subject him, added to some portion of disgrace
which every human being must incur who leads another into unhappiness,
might be considered as a sufficient punishment for the man.
That a woman should at present be almost driven from society for an
offence which men commit nearly with impunity, seems to be undoubtedly
a breach of natural justice. But the origin of the custom, as the most
obvious and effectual method of preventing the frequent recurrence of a
serious inconvenience to a community, appears to be natural, though not
perhaps perfectly justifiable. This origin, however, is now lost in the
new train of ideas which the custom has since generated. What at first
might be dictated by state necessity is now supported by female
delicacy, and operates with the greatest force on that part of society
where, if the original intention of the custom were preserved, there is
the least real occasion for it.
When these two fundamental laws of society, the security of property,
and the institution of marriage, were once established, inequality of
conditions must necessarily follow. Those who were born after the
division of property would come into a world already possessed. If
their parents, from having too large a family, could not give them
sufficient for their support, what are they to do in a world where
everything is appropriated? We have seen the fatal effects that would
result to a society, if every man had a valid claim to an equal share
of the produce of the earth. The members of a family which was grown
too large for the original division of land appropriated to it could
not then demand a part of the surplus produce of others, as a debt of
justice. It has appeared, that from the inevitable laws of our nature
some human beings must suffer from want. These are the unhappy persons
who, in the great lottery of life, have drawn a blank. The number of
these claimants would soon exceed the ability of the surplus produce to
supply. Moral merit is a very difficult distinguishing criterion,
except in extreme cases. The owners of surplus produce would in general
seek some more obvious mark of distinction. And it seems both natural
and just that, except upon particular occasions, their choice should
fall upon those who were able, and professed themselves willing, to
exert their strength in procuring a further surplus produce; and thus
at once benefiting the community, and enabling these proprietors to
afford assistance to greater numbers. All who were in want of food
would be urged by imperious necessity to offer their labour in exchange
for this article so absolutely essential to existence. The fund
appropriated to the maintenance of labour would be the aggregate
quantity of food possessed by the owners of land beyond their own
consumption. When the demands upon this fund were great and numerous,
it would naturally be divided in very small shares. Labour would be ill
paid. Men would offer to work for a bare subsistence, and the rearing
of families would be checked by sickness and misery. On the contrary,
when this fund was increasing fast, when it was great in proportion to
the number of claimants, it would be divided in much larger shares. No
man would exchange his labour without receiving an ample quantity of
food in return. Labourers would live in ease and comfort, and would
consequently be able to rear a numerous and vigorous offspring.
On the state of this fund, the happiness, or the degree of misery,
prevailing among the lower classes of people in every known state at
present chiefly depends. And on this happiness, or degree of misery,
depends the increase, stationariness, or decrease of population.
And thus it appears, that a society constituted according to the most
beautiful form that imagination can conceive, with benevolence for its
moving principle, instead of self-love, and with every evil disposition
in all its members corrected by reason and not force, would, from the
inevitable laws of nature, and not from any original depravity of man,
in a very short period degenerate into a society constructed upon a
plan not essentially different from that which prevails in every known
state at present; I mean, a society divided into a class of
proprietors, and a class of labourers, and with self-love the
main-spring of the great machine.
In the supposition I have made, I have undoubtedly taken the increase
of population smaller, and the increase of produce greater, than they
really would be. No reason can be assigned why, under the circumstances
I have supposed, population should not increase faster than in any
known instance. If then we were to take the period of doubling at
fifteen years, instead of twenty-five years, and reflect upon the
labour necessary to double the produce in so short a time, even if we
allow it possible, we may venture to pronounce with certainty that if
Mr Godwin's system of society was established in its utmost perfection,
instead of myriads of centuries, not thirty years could elapse before
its utter destruction from the simple principle of population.
I have taken no notice of emigration for obvious reasons. If such
societies were instituted in other parts of Europe, these countries
would be under the same difficulties with regard to population, and
could admit no fresh members into their bosoms. If this beautiful
society were confined to this island, it must have degenerated
strangely from its original purity, and administer but a very small
portion of the happiness it proposed; in short, its essential principle
must be completely destroyed, before any of its members would
voluntarily consent to leave it, and live under such governments as at
present exist in Europe, or submit to the extreme hardships of first
settlers in new regions. We well know, from repeated experience, how
much misery and hardship men will undergo in their own country, before
they can determine to desert it; and how often the most tempting
proposals of embarking for new settlements have been rejected by people
who appeared to be almost starving.