stood in political economy, that the increase of production is the cheapening of the value of labour. Suppose that each workman can produce a pair of shoes per day, the shoemaker of Lynn can sell seven pairs for the price of his week's toil, while those of his business, in other places, can sell but six for the same money; and as the buyer has in this, his advantage, he will purchase from the Lynn manufacturer rather than from the manufacturer of his own town. The money, consequently, expended for this article, will find its way to Lynn, and in a little time, together with the increased labour, will enable the manufacturers of that place to break down their rivals throughout the country. With this increase of capital the manufacturers of Lynn may, for a time, in order to supply the increasing demand for their article, afford to pay higher wages to their workmen; but the consequence will be, that, for sake of this wages, the number of workmen will be increased, and the policy, when the supply shall have equalled the demand, will begin to react upon the workmen themselves, and lead to a reduction of their wages. In its course, however, that policy will have paralyzed or destroyed this branch of industry, wherever those who are engaged in it refuse to work on Sunday.*

Thus, precisely, has it happened in the history of manufactures in England, as compared with the other nations of Europe. The result of the entire national industry, during some forty or forty-five days in each year, gave her the first advantage over her rivals. This brought her capital, and drained from them their resources. It made her strong, and left them weak and exhausted. By means of capital she was enabled not only to increase the quantity, but also to improve the quality, of her productions, to a degree which they could not rival; and if, at different subsequent periods, they attempted to revive their manufactures, even by artificial means, British skill and British capital were prompt, even at a little sacrifice, if necessary, to effect their extinguishment. Thus, England became a monopolist in the market of nations-thus, their wealth flowed to her workshops-thus, competition was destroyed abroad; and the foundation laid at home for that superabundance of riches, by which she has been enabled to borrow from her own subjects almost the whole of her national debt, amounting to some eight hundred millions of pounds sterling. It is not pretended that this is the only cause of the great aggregate wealth of England; but so far as it comes under the head of Political Economy, it was one great cause, of which the comparative poverty of other European nations is as manifestly another consequence. Here, then, we see the principle of in

It was the discovery of this advantage which prompted the propagators of the revolutionary doctrines in France to declaim, with such vehemence, against the religious festivals of that country. And, in the wildness of infidelity and materialism which characterized the Revolution itself, it was decreed that there should be one day of rest only after nine, instead of six days of labour. In like manner, now, at least, one of the results of the policy of England has been the abolition, in great part, of the ancient religious holidays, even in Catholic countries. And in France itself, it is a lamentable fact, that even the Lord's day is no longer kept holy, except by the truly religious portion of the country; but, as regards manufacturing industry, the works are continued without distinction of days.

terest operating in its national form; and, thus concentrated, powerful enough to sustain England, in competition, against the world. But having been successful in putting down all foreign competition, how did this principle operate on the condition of its own inhabitants? The contest now is among those three classes, into which Political Economy is pleased to distribute her people. The interest of the manufacturer, as a capitalist, is in the profits of his production. When the markets are brisk and the demand great, he will make large returns by his investments. But still, if he can cheapen the cost of production, he will be increasing his profits on both sides. Hence the labourer must maintain his interest, against that of the capitalist. Both are free; and labour is a commodity liable to rise and fall, like every other thing, with the fluctuations of trade. But the position of the labourer is unfortunate, inasmuch as the interests of the capitalist must be provided for, before his can be reached. He may, indeed, refuse to work for less than fair wages; but no matter how just his pretensions, on that score, the hunger that stands at the portals of his dwelling, threatening both himself and his family, if he do not work, renders him perfectly unequal to the contest. He must give in; for the same policy which annihilated competition in other nations, employs that same competition at home, for the increase of profits by the reduction of wages, or even the occasional suspension of labour altogether. Add to this the introduction of machinery, within the last fifty years. It is estimated that the machinery of England, in the various departments of industrial production, is equal to the labour of a hundred millions of workmen. Besides, at the present time, almost every nation has, at length, been aroused to the subject of manufactures, and has come to the conclusion that it is wiser to encourage and employ its own labourers, than to spend the amount of money which such employment may cost in the purchase of British goods. If, then, we take the actual condition of the poorer classes of Great Britain, depending in a great measure on this kind of employment for the means of life, in connection with the rising manufactures of other States, and take in the future which statesmen ought to anticipate, it will appear doubtful whether, even in an economical point of view, the policy of England has not been a short-sighted policy after all.

Let us now turn to the condition of the agricultural labourers of Great Britain. One would suppose that their condition should be improved by the transition of so many, from their ranks, to those of manufacturing industry. But this is not the case; for, as a class, they are not so well off as they were several centuries ago. They cannot, at present, obtain for a day's wages more than one-fourth of the amount of food, which could be purchased for a day's labour, up to the reign of Henry the Eighth. In an act, or rather, the preamble of an act passed in his reign, 1533, "beef, pork, mutton and veal" are mentioned as the ordinary "food of the poorer sort;" so that the agricultural labourers of the present day require to have three hundred per cent. added to their actual wages, in order to live as well as their predecessors did, three cen

turies ago! Here is an awful deterioration in their condition. A precarious, and, at best, a scanty supply of the cheapest, and consequently, poorest kind of food, is all they can now obtain in exchange or recompense for their incessant toil. And hence they are described and represented, in public and official documents, as on the verge of absolute pauperism. Why and how has all this come to happen? The question is the more startling, because, during this period, the aggregate wealth of the nation has increased many hundred fold. To my mind, however, the answer is simple. It has happened, because, during this period, the whole practical economy of the country has been transferred from the ancient basis, and left to be regulated on the exclusive principle of universal, material self-interest. It is all very fine, to talk, as we Americans do, of the "immense wealth of England;" and, as the English themselves do, of the "sturdy self-reliance and manly bearing of a British operative"-as contrasted with the humble deportment of corresponding classes in other European States. But Political Economy has not seen, or, seeing, has not dared to denounce the social blunder-the mockery of freedom-which are presented in the spectacle of the starving labourer maintaining a contest of competition with the bloated capitalist. Each, in that contest, is referred back to his own. interest; and while the interest of the one is to increase, or at least not diminish, his capital: the interest of the other is simply to escape a death of starvation which is pressing on him.

If these remarks be deemed sufficient to explain why the condition of the labouring classes is so much deteriorated from former time, we may now proceed to axplain how the thing has been brought about.

In order to do this, it will be necessary to recur briefly to the social condition of England antecedent to the change of religion in that country. Nothing is more true, than that a large portion of the wealth and of the real estate of the country, were in the hands of the clergy. The origin of their title was as just and as authentic as that of any other property in Europe. The wealth which they possessed was the growth of time-the result of their own industry, economy, and the gradual increase in the value of their estates. The church, and its principles or rather, the principle of Christianity, working out through the living agencies of the church-had become interwoven, to a certain extent, with all the relations of social life. It operated as an invisible bond, binding together the various ranks, classes, and conditions of the whole people; and correcting or reconciling the antagonism of mere material interests, by the influence of other interests relating to another world. It was as the cement in the social edifice. After the serfs of the middle ages had passed into the condition of tenants and free labourers, those who occupied or cultivated the lands. of the monasteries and of the church, had kind and indulgent landlords to deal with. In fact, all this property, as to its advantages, belonged rather to the poor at large, than to those who were its nominal proprietors. The law of the church regulated its uses. Its revenues, by this law, were divided into three

portions. The first was sacred to the maintenance of the poor; the second was appropriated to the repairs of the churches, and the improvement of ecclesiastical property. Out of the third, the clergy were entitled to their support; and if still there remained a surplus, this also was a charge on their censcience, as belonging to the poor. It is not pretended in these remarks, that this law was, in all cases, strictly observed. But yet, the absence of all destitution and suffering among the poor, except in seasons of famine, is a sufficient proof that it was substantially attended to; since we find that there was no other poor law needed in the country, except that of Him who said, "The poor you have always with you, and when you will, you can do good unto them."

When the change of religion took place in England, the possession of those ecclesiastical estates, and this wealth, constituted perhaps the greatest error of the church. They excited the cupidity of the monarch and his parasites. And if monasteries were denounced as citadels of luxury, indolence, and crime-if celibacy was held up, as a variation from the law of God, and an injury to the welfare of the State, the motives of the declaimers against both are fairly liable to suspicion, when it is remembered, that the wealth of the assailed was to become the prey and patrimony of the assailant. The secular clergy were with few exceptions, brought into the measures of the monarch. The inmates of the cloisters, male and female, were turned adrift on the world, and added to the ranks of the destitute, whom they had hitherto been accustomed to relieve. The estates of the church were seized by the ancestors of many of the landlords and noble families, of the present day. The fathers and mothers of the poor in the religious communities of both sexes, that were scattered from point to point over the surface of England, were driven from their peaceful abodes, and their estates seized in the private right of private individuals. The consequence of all this was, that in less than half a century, there was not concern enough for the poor left remaining in the hearts of the people, to provide for their support, without the aid, or rather the coercion of an act of Parliament. This is the first instance in the annals of christian nations, in which the principles of religion were found insufficient to furnish a spontaneous provision for the destitute. The burthens of their support necessarily fell upon the occupants and cultivators of the soil. The lands of the church were rented out on the principle of the proprietors' interest, modified only by two considerations-one was the extent of competition among the applicants; and the other was, the amount of rent which might be exacted without depriving the tenants and their families of the means, at least necessary, for subsistence. Hence, weighty rents; and as the landlords were for the most part, the law makers also: hence too, in process of time, those statutes in favour of landlord interests, which in our days are familiarly known under the designation of corn laws. Does not every one see that all such legislation, whatever may be its other effects, must tend to diminish the wages of all the

productive and labouring classes, by either diminishing the quantity, or raising the price, of bread? So that if you look to the relations thus created between the labourers of England and the other two classes into which political economists have divided the population, namely landlords and capitalists, it would seem as if the whole practical purpose of public econony has been to reduce the working people down to that condition in which Malthus has discovered what he calls the "natural standard of wages"-which means, perhaps, a little more than is barely sufficient to keep the workman's soul and body together.

It is impossible not to perceive, in all this, the injurious effect of the principle to which we have already, more than once, alluded, as the actual regulator of Political Economy in Great Britain, namely, self-interest. Viewed according to the light of this principle, it was perfectly natural for those who were at once landlords and law-makers, to secure to themselves the largest amount of rents; and to throw off, on others, the weight of every public burthen. In former times, the system presented the resources of the poor, from the very land which produced the crop. But now, the whole crop is claimed for the benefit of the landlord; and the tax, for the support of the poor, is to be gathered, not from those who grow the wheat, but from those who eat the bread; that is to say, in every nine cases out of ten, from the labouring classes themselves. Thus the labouring classes of England are placed as in a cleft stick, between capitalists and landlords, and feel the effects of pressure from both sides ;-from the one side, in the reduction of wages; and from the other, in the increased prices of food.

The consequence now is, that in that country, including the three kingdoms, there is poverty and distress, such as cannot be found in the civilized world besides. In other countries there is less of aggregate wealth; but in no nation is there to be found so much, or such intense, misery, as among the poor of England. Nothing can show this more fully than the official reports made, from time to time, by order of Parliament, on their condition. Leaving the condition of the agricultural labourers aside, the reports on the condition of labourers in mines and manufactures, present a picture of physical and moral destitution, such as it is appalling to contemplate. We read, for instance, of children being employed from the age of seven years and upward. And why is this? Because a child is as good as an adult person in waiting on the evolutions of machinery. Now the wages of a child is less than that of a man, and interest whispers to the employer, to give the child the preference. It matters not, that the delicate limbs of such beings are unable to support their bodies during the long hours of labour. It matters not that they become deformed, and contract physical maladies, which will accompany them through the remainder of their wretched lives. These things go on-for interest so determines it—until Parliament is at length obliged to pass enactments to interdict such outrages on the rights of childhood.

It is quite honourable to the feelings of the English people that they should