THE SOCIOLOGICAL THEORY OF CAPITAL
THE SOCIOLOGICAL
THEORY OF CAPITAL
BEING A COMPLETE REPRINT OF THE
NEW PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL
ECONOMY, 1834
BY
JOHN RAE, M.A.
SOMETIME MASTER OF THE GORE DISTRICT GRAMMAR SCHOOL, HAMILTON, ONTARIO
AND DISTRICT JUSTICE AT HANA, EAST MAUI, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS
EDITED, WITH BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH AND NOTES, BY
CHARLES WHITNEY MIXTER, PH.D.
PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF VERMONT
|leto
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON : MACMILLAN AND Qp_. A LIMITED
1905
<:' fh-
1075491
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GLASGOW : PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
' BT ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
AND SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES
[NTRODUCTION,
CHAPTER I.
I [Or ECONOMIC AMBITION AND THE MEANS ESSENTIAL TO
ITS KKALI/ATION],
It is characteristic of man to provide for the wants of the
tuture, by the formation of instruments ; and his power to
make this provision is measured by the extent and accuracy
of his knowledge of the course of natural events.
CHAPTER II.
ClBOUMSTANi HI COMMON TO ALL INSTRUMENTS
AM> OF THOSE PROPER TO SOME, . . . . 19
in- tln.-e circumstances common to all instruments.
(1) They <>r receive a capacity to produce certain
supply future wants, by labour [applied to
nils,] either directly or indirectly. (2) Before tlu-ir
capacity is exi ,n<\ th-y pass from thr tank of
t<> th.it of materials, tin \ yid.l
a return, or produn.- < itain t-vmts fitted to supply futuiv
wants, which may be estimated in labour. :>, li, i
riod of their formation and that of their exham
a space of tinn *. Some iiiMtrmncMts can be <
moveil from plare to plice, others cannot. The former are
d goods or .'Miiiiio'litiea.
\i TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER III.
PAGE
OF CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES ARISING FROM THE INSTI-
TUTION OF SOCIETY, 25
.Statement of some generally admitted principles concerning
the nature of man and of society, which it is necessary to
assume in the progress of the subsequent investigations.
CHAPTER IV.
[A METHOD FOR THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS], . 31
Every instrument may be arranged in some part of a series,
of which the orders are determined, by the proportions
existing between the labour expended in the formation of
instruments, the capacity given to them, and the time
elapsing from the period of formation to that of exhaustion.
CHAPTER V.
[Or CERTAIN TECHNICAL] CIRCUMSTANCES GOVERNING THE
AMOUNT OF INSTRUMENTS FORMED, . . . . 42
In every society considerably advanced in art, that is, in
every society the members of which have acquired an exten-
sive knowledge of the trains of events supplying the wants of
man, which the materials they possess [when formed into
instruments] are capable of generating, there is no assignable
limit to the capacity that may be given to these materials,
or to the amount of [contrived] events which the instruments
that may be formed out of them may bring to pass ; but
that capacity cannot be indefinitely increased without carry-
ing the stock of instruments owned by the society to an
order of slower return that is to say, without [either]
extending the period between their formation and exhaus-
tion, or diminishing their return [in proportion to the outlay
on their construction]. It so happens, that, other circum-
stances being equal, [that is, principally, in the absence of
increase of knowledge], the wider the circle of events
embraced [or, of materials with which "natural events" are
associated], the returns made by the instruments constructed
take place in a more distant futurity. [In other words, with
mere non-inventive expansion of instrumental production,
the rate of return declines ; because the results are achieved
either with greater outlay or more tardily.]
TABLE OF CONTENTS vii
CHAPTER VI.
PACK
OF THE ClRCUMSTANCKS WHICH DETERMINE THE STRENGTH
OF THE KlTF.rriVK 1>!>1KE OF ACCUMULATION, . 52
The order to which the instruments formed by any society
will be carried, is fixed by the relative estimation of
its members of events taking place at present, and at a
future period, which is denominated the, effective desire of
accumulation. This is chiefly determined (1) by the dis-
tinctness of the mind's conception of future events, which
again depends on the strength of the intellectual powers ;
(2) on the desire felt for the production of practicable future
events. The latter circumstance is regulated by the strength
of the moral powers, or what in these investigations are
U-rmed the social and benevolent affections. As the exist-
ence of the individual is precarious, and his power of enjoy-
ment continually diminishing, the more the state of feeling
and action pervading any community separates individuals
from one another, the more limited will be the range of events
[or materials] which the effective desire of accumulation of
the members of that community will embrace. On the con-
trary, as, though individuals perish the race remains, the
more the interests of the individual are identified with those
of others, the wider will be the circle of events which the
accumulative principle will comprehend. Isolation of feeling
and action weakens the accumulative principle by separating
the interests of individuals, and so contracting its sphere of
operation ; community of feeling and action strengthens it,
by connecting* the interests of individuals, and exciting them
to comprelu-inl within the circle of their operations a more
extended series of events.
CHAPTKK VII.
< M SOME OF TIII: I'HKNOMENA ARISING FROM THI: I MITKKKNT
I>I:<;REES OF STRKN.TII Of THI EfTO nvi: DCBIRI 01
Acer MI i .\ii"N IN IMI i KIIKNT Socii :m>, ... 65
Hate of feeling ;unl action, tin h of
the effective desire of accumulation, the orders of m-ti mueiiU
in.- <>f the circumstances thus produced, among hunting
and pastoral nations, in the Chim-Hr Kinjiii.-. m nmdcm
i n long the ancient Romans.
viii TABLK OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER VIII.
i'\i;i:
OFTHK DIVISION OF EMPLOYMENTS, AND OF OTHER PHENO-
MKNA I'Kol.rrKD BY EFFORTS TO ACCELERATE THE
KXHATSTION OK iNSTKl MKNTS, . . . * . . l<)l_>
When in consequence of the progress of art [invention] and
the strength of the accumulative principle, there, are many
extended trains of [contrived] events, or arts, going on in any
society, and when, consequently, there exist many sets of
tools or instruments producing them, each individual betakes
himself to the production [conduct] of some particular train,
and to the formation of the instruments necessary for carry-
ing it on. By this means, no instruments lie idle, which
must be the case were every man to practise several arts ;
and, consequently, they are more speedily exhausted, and
pass to orders of quicker return. This division of employ-
ments introduces the necessity of the exchange of com-
modities. The exchange of commodities is regulated by the
labour respectively expended on them, in conjunction with
the time at which it was expended, reckoning the effects of
the latter by the orders at which instruments actually stand,
[which last determines the prevailing rate of profit at any
time]. The existence of exchange occasions a choice being
made of some commodity, which is kept [uniquely made use
of] for the purpose of being exchanged with all others, and so
comes to name the rates at which they exchange, or to fix
[express] their values. The commodity chosen for this pur-
pose is termed money, and, among communities possessing
the precious metals, consists of them. Exchanges are also
effected by means of credit. . . . The general prevalence of
credit, and of the use of money, has produced the [customary]
mercantile mode of calculating the returns of instruments, by
profits and interest. [This system of calculation, while exceed-
ingly advantageous in the conduct of affairs, is a serious
impediment to the philosophical understanding of capital.]
CHAPTER IX.
[Or INVENTION CONSIDERED AS A GENERAL SOCIOLOGICAL
PRINCIPLE], 132
[It is necessary to investigate the causes of progress in any
department of human affairs, and not to take them for
granted, man being essentially imitative. Motives exciting
to innovation and the opposing forces external to and within
the inventor. Though in respect to the individual, mani-
festations of the inventive faculty imply a superiority in
TABLE OF COM FATS ix
PAOB
some of the intellectual powers, in respect to a society they
imply a preponderance of the social and benevolent affections.
One of the final and contingent results, however, of intestine
commotions, persecutions, wars, and the like, seems to be to
advance the inventive faculty.]
CHAPTER X
m. CAUSES OF THE PROGRESS OF INVENTION AND OF
THK KKFECTS ARISING FROM IT, [AS IT CON > T.I; v-
\\ITH THK MATERIAL WORLD], . . . 151
Invention, the discovery of new possible existence*, becomes
an active principle by exerting a formative power on old
t.1 exintences. By reason of the nature of the world in
which man lives, change exposes to his view new successions
of events, which excite him to observe them, and weaken the
retarding influence of the principle of servile imitation. The
effects on instruments of the progress of invention, are to
produce improvements in them, and to carry them on [back]
to orders of quicker return, [and so for the time being to
advance the rate of profit].
CHAPTER XL
K\i IIAN<;ES BETWEEN DIFFERENT COMMUNITIES [OF
CoMMoMTlES nTHER THAN LUXURIES], . . . 204
i mges between societies, [that is, between the members
of different societies,] are not directly regulated by the quan-
tity of labor, [plus the time of its outlay], expended on the
commodities exchanged. Increased facility in the exchange
of utilities [articles which are not luxuries] operates in the
same manner as the progress of invention and improvement,
and carries instruments to tin- m>n- ipiickly ivturning orders.
interruption of the exchange of such articles may have,
however, indirect effects precisely opposite to the direct
effects.]
CHAITKl; XII.
\\'ASTE, [OR PURE ECONOMIC Loss], . . . .213
The loss which, in any society, the capa tiuments
sustains by the operation <>f tr.md
lar causes], seems to be m-mly in\< r>< l\ ngth
of the accumulative principle ; .
x TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER XIII.
PAGE
OF THE EFFECTS RESULTING FROM DIVERSITIES OF STRENGTH
IN THE ACCl' MT LA II VE PRINCIPLE, IN MEMBERS OF THE
SAME SOCIETY, 218
In the same society, instruments (excepting those that cannot
be exchanged, forming a stock reserved for immediate con-
sumption) are kept at nearly the same orders, because
prodigals, or individuals in whom the accumulative principle
is weaker than the average, can exchange the instruments
they possess for more, according to their estimation of the
future and the present, than they are worth, and therefore
[do] transfer them ; while frugal persons, or individuals in
whom the accumulative principle is stronger than the average,
find exercise for it in acquiring instruments transferred by
prodigals. [It thus chiefly comes about that there is an
economic stratification of the members of each society. This
last leads to the consideration of some of the interrelations of
the principles of accumulation and of population.]
CHAPTER XIV.
OF THE PRINCIPLE OF THE DIVISION OF LABOUR, . . 237
The division of labour ought to be considered rather as a
result than a cause. [That is, it comes into existence through
the antecedent progress of invention. It is not, as Adam
Smith supposed, a prime mover in the course of human
affairs.]
APPENDIX.
ARTICLE I.
[OF THE NATURE AND EFFECTS] OF LUXURY, . . . :M5
There is a propensity among men to attain [a factitious]
superiority over one another. This may be termed vanity,
and is gratified by the evident possession of things which
others have not the means of acquiring. It calls for the
possession of commodities of which the consumption is
conspicuous, and which cost much labor, though not better
qualified, or but little better qualified, to supply real wants,
TABLK OF CONTENTS xi
PAGE
than other commodities costing little labor. The comparison
of the physical qualities of such commodities does not afford,
therefore, the means of measuring them by one another.
the assumption, on which the preceding investiga-
tions have proceeded, that all commodities compare with one
another by their physical qualities [by the physical "events"
they produce], is incorrect. In so far as any commodity,
when compared with another, excels it only in the gratifica-
tion it affords to vanity, it is to be considered a luxury ; in
so far as it compares with others in the capacity which its
physical qualities give it to gratify real wants, it is to be
considered as a utility. The progress of invention and improve-
ment have no effect in carrying instruments, directly or
indirectly producing luxuries, to more quickly returning
orders ; on the contrary, they carry them to the most slowly
returning orders of which the strength of the accumulative
principle admits the existence. The labor expended in
the formation of luxuries, is so much direct loss to the
ci'ininunity, one man's superiority being here equivalent to
another's inferiority. The amount thus dissipated depends
on the force of the social and benevolent affections, and
intellectual powers, as compared with that of the selfish
feelings, and is therefore, inversely as the strength of the
accumulative principle.
ARTICLE II.
[Or EXCHANGE I'.KTWF.KN IMFFEKENT COMMUNITIES OF
COMMODITIES WHICH MINISTER TO LUXURY], . . 277
Increased facility in the exchange of luxuries has an im-
im-.liate tendency (in contrast to what happens in the case of
utilities), to carry instruments to the more slowly returning
orders. [The first effects of restrictions upon trade in this
class of commodities, on the contrary, are beneficial, whereas
their ulterior effects may be injurious. The relative effects
of restriction and free com pi -tit ion, when oppmt unities for
observation present themselves, afford a means of ascertain
ing how far commodities are or are not luxuries.]
ARTICLI; in
< >r i in: OPERATIONS or im: LTMSLATOR ON Lun mrs . 286
The art of the legislator may apply to the purposes of the
state, funds naturally dissipated in luxuries.
xii TABLE OF CONTENTS
ARTICLE IV.
PAGE
[Or THE ART OF THE BANKER], 297
[PART L OF BANKING IN GENERAL.]
The modern art of banking consists in the generalization of
all credit transactions [throughout a community], and an
emission of paper money, or money of credit. Its introduc-
tion into any community by facilitating the exchange of
instruments, quickens their exhaustion [and formation], and
carries them to the more speedily returning orders.
[PART II. OF PARTICULAR SYSTEMS OF BANKING.]
[The Scotch banking system described and contrasted with
that of England. Further consideration of the utility of
banks in increasing the efficiency of the money of a com-
munity, whether specie or banker's money. Strictures upon
Adam Smith's views on monetary subjects.]
ARTICLE V.
OF THE WEALTH OF NATIONS AS A BRANCH OF THE PHILO-
SOPHY OF INDUCTION. [OF THE SPIRIT AND METHOD
OF SCIENCE] 329
Adam Smith's great work is to be considered as a philo-
sophical system, the object of which is to explain known
phenomena, on popular principles, not as an inductive
iii(|iiiry, leading to the discovery of the real laws deter-
mining the succession of those phenomena. [This last form
of procedure alone can claim the rank of true science.]
ARTICLE VI.
[Or THE THEORY OF POPULATION], 354
[It is an error to assimilate man to the lower animals as
regards the laws of his propagation. We have to take cog-
nizance of things psychological and social as well as of things
physiological and individual, and the former set of causes are
of predominating influence both in advancing and declining
states. The principle which increases and maintains the
numbers of mankind may be termed thr. effective desire of
TABLE OF CONTENTS xiii
ARTICLE VII.
PAGE
[Or THE DOCTRINE OF LAISSBZ FAIRE WITH SPECIAL
REFERENCE TO] THE OPERATIONS OF THE LEGISLATOR
IN IliLi.\;ix(i THE ARTS OF FOREIGN COUNTRIES TO
His ONVN 359
Instead of there being any grounds for a presumption against
legislative interference, from the assumption that nature
ought to be allowed to pursue her own plans ; the presump-
tion is, on the contrary, that nature gave man his peculiar
faculties for the purpose that universally, and as well here
as elsewhere, he might acquire the direction of events, by
discovering the laws regulating their successions.
ARTICLE VIII.
[Or THE SUPPOSED IDENTITY OF THE CAUSES GIVING RISE
TO INDIVIDUAL AND NATIONAL WEALTH], . . . 377
[PART I. WHEN ASSUMED AS A SELT- EVIDENT TRUTH.]
The causes giving rise to individual and national wealth are
not precisely the same. Individuals grow rich [generally and
characteristically] by the acquisition of wealth previously
existing; nations, by the creation of wealth that did not
before exist, [which last comes about through invention.]
[PART II. WHEN DEDUCED FROM AN INGENIOUS THEORY.]
The legislator may stimulate invention by the introduction of
new arts ; [that is, by the encouragement of the transfer of
old arts to a place where they are new, and where they make
adaptations to the changed physical and social environment.]
AUTHOR'S "NOTES," 448
RESIDUA, 466
READER'S GUIDE, . 484
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
THE original work of which this volume is a reprint, was
published in Boston in 1834 under the unfortunate title,
St<it o)i cut of Some New Principles on the Subject of
Political Economy, Exposing the Fallacies of the System
of Free Trade, and of Some other Doctrines Maintained
in the " Wealth of Nations." 1 This title was a misnomer,
for the chief part of the undertaking consisted not in
strictures on the doctrines of Adam Smith, but in an
independent, elaborate, and profound treatment of the
general subject of capital. It is this last which has recently
brought Rae into notice with the present generation of
lomists in connection with the w r orld-wide discussion of
c.ipital, upon new and fruitful lines, inaugurated by Bohm-
Bawerk.
I may add here that the first article by me upon Rae
("A Forerunner of Bohm-Bawerk," Quarterly Journal of
tunnies, January, 1897), had a title which was also in
great measure a misnomer. Rae is not a mere " anticipator
1 It was divide.! into three "Books" named respectively " Individual and
National Interests are not Identical" (two chapters, 77 pages); "Of the
Nature of Stock and of the Laws governing ita Increase and Diminution"
ii chapters and an "appendix," 280 pages) ; and "Of the Operations of
th- legislator on National Stock" (three chapters, 29 pages). To this were
added twenty-seven pages of "Notes" at the oml f tho volume.
Of the several defects in book-making which seriously handicapped the
\\ U, the most considerable was the putting first of all of two long-drawn out
chapters, highly controversial in their nature, and l>y far tin- mo.st ditlicult in
nust be that many a reader never got beyond or even through
them.
xvi EDITOR'S PREFACE
of the discoverer" (to use one of Cannan's phrases), hut
the discoverer himself. By reason of the lack of a theory
of invention, Bohm-Bawerk's doctrine of capital, although
coming much later, is in essentials the less complete of thr
two. This contention I have attempted to substantial <
in my second article (" Bohm-Bawerk on Bae," Quarterly
Journal of Economics, May, 1902) reviewing Chapter XI.
of the second edition of the Geschichte und Critik d<r
Capitalzins-Theorien.
In view of the chief interest which now attaches to Rae's
work, it has been deemed advisable, in response to numerous
demands, to bring out this republication in an entirely new
dress. That part of the second " Book " (the greater part)
which possesses a unity of its own, and which deals pre-
dominantly with the subject of capital, is given precedence,
under a more significant title, which attaches to the volume
as a whole; and the remainder, considerably rearranged, is
reproduced in an appendix. The original work in its
entirety is thus made available and, it is thought, more
readable.
It has not been considered advisable in all instances to
distract the attention of the reader by indicating the minor
editorial changes in the text ; but care has been taken in
every instance (with the exception of one passage on pages
8 and 9), to point out all alterations of consequence.
Additions to the titles of chapters, and some wholly new
titles supplied by the editor, are indicated by brackets in the
Table of Contents which are not repeated in the body of the
work. These new titles are occasioned by the appearance
of new chapters in the editing, and by the fact that in some
instances there were formerly no titles proper. As several
publications have made extensive page references to the
original volume, a Header's Guide has been placed at the
EDITOR'S PREFACE xvii
end of the present volume, by means of which the location
in the reprint of any passage of the original can readily be
ed.
A few words having a special bearing upon the biography
are not out of place here.
When I first became interested in Rae's theory of capital,
under Professor Taussig's direction in the economic
inary at Harvard University, there existed no printed
information (except in his Preface) in respect to Rae
hiin>elt ' : and for a long time nothing could be learned
through inquiry in quarters which promised well in Canada
and Great Britain. The late Professor Dunbar of Harvard,
who always displayed a keen interest in the undertaking,
urged me to persist, and at length a letter printed in the
Montreal Star drew forth two replies, one from the Canadian
antiquary Mr. H. J. Morgan, the other from the late Robert
S. Knight of Lancaster, Ontario, a grand-nephew of Rae.
This set me upon the right road to get into communication
with several people who knew Rae personally. Of these
the one who could tell me most was the late Sir Roderick
\V. Cameron of New York, a former pupil and life-long
:id, at whose summer residence on Staten Island Rae
died. Better still, I was able through the interest and
kindness of this gentleman to come into possession of what
f< w papers Rae left at his death. That is, I obtained all
Rae's effects of a literary nature which seem now to bi in
existence. Apparently, from statements made by Sir
Roderick, there was another set of papers which I Jar had
uith him at the time, but which were destroyed or in some
way lost. The papers I obtained were little more than odds
and ends, mostly unfinished fragments on a great variety
uhj.Tts, unfortunately but little on economics. Their
<-hirf use has been to help me to a f;m understanding of
b
xviii EDITOR'S PREFACE
Rae's life, which I have been able, however, only very
imperfectly to set forth.
I have received much information and kind assistance in
this part of my work from not a few people in Canada, the
United States, Honolulu, and Great Britain. I trust they
will accept this general acknowledgment of my sense of
indebtedness to them.
To Mr. L. W. Zartman of Yale University my especial
thanks are due for assistance in preparing the copy for the
printer, and in reading the proofs.
I am also much indebted to Mr. Wilmot H. Thompson
of the Graduate School of Yale, for revision of the classical
quotations.
Finally, I wish here to express my obligations to Professor
Irving Fisher of Yale University. His interest and
encouragement have been of unfailing support. The proof
sheets of the whole book have passed his able scrutiny, and
his direct help in many other ways has been invaluable.
C. W. M.
BURLINGTON,
VERMONT, My, 1905.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.
THREE men of note have borne the name John Rae ; and
because of frequent misunderstanding it is worth while
here once for all clearly to distinguish them. There is first,
reversing the chronological order, the John Rae now living
in England, born at Wick, Caithness, in 1845, educated
at the T Diversity of Edinburgh (Hon. LL.D., 1897)
journalist by profession, and author of several well-known
works on economic subjects. Then there is John Rae,
M.D., for some years surgeon in the employ of the Hudson
Bay Company, author of a work on Arctic exploration,
rewarded by the British government as the first discoverer
of relics of the Sir John Franklin expedition. His education
in medicine (completed in 1833) was obtained at the
Iniversity of Edinburgh, but his degree, an honorary one,
came from McGill University, Montreal, in 1853. He was
born near Stromness, in the Orkneys, in 1813, and died
in London in 1893. Finally, there is the subject of this
sketch, who was born at Footdee, "then a small and
detached suburb of Aberdeen," June 1st, 1796, and died at
Clifton, Staten Island, New York, July 14th, 1872. So
far as is known these three North of Scotland men were
not kinsmen. The two last are often confounded, even by
the best informed antiquaries, more especially because each
was known as Dr. Rae, and each resided for a part of his
life in Hamilton, Ontario.
Of Rae's antecedents and early life we know hut little.
His father's name was John, a merchant, " an entirely
s. h made man, the son of a peasant or small farmer." The
mother was Margaret Cuthbert, whose family seems to have
xx BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
been rather well-to-do " large farmers, as farming went
then." The son speaks of his father as fifteen years older
than his mother, and of the tw r o as markedly different " in
character, disposition, habits, tastes, and education."
There was one sister, Ann Cuthbert, and two brothers,
James and Alexander. The elder brother, James, had
remarkable inventive aptitudes, but was lost at sea in early
life. The sister married James Innes Knight, and preceded
Rae to Canada, at least as early as 1816, where Mr. Knight
died not long after arrival. A son by this marriage, Eobert
Knight, has descendants now living in Canada ; and descend-
ants of a daughter, Jessie, who married a Mr. Thurburn, are
living in Scotland. Later Mrs. Knight married Jan us
Fleming, a merchant of Montreal. There was a son by this
marriage, Ramsay Fleming, Q.C., lately deceased. Rae
himself had no children. 1
While still a mere lad John Eae studied at the University
of Aberdeen, being entered in Marischal College for the
sessions of 1810-1811, 1811-1812, and 1814-1815. In 1815
he took the degree of M.A. 2 Later he studied medicine
at the University of Edinburgh, but seems never to have
taken a degree in medicine there or, indeed, anywhere else. 3
Beyond doubt a most precocious youth, and it must be
admitted from what follows somewhat self-opinionated, he
had apparently a quarrel with his instructors at the time
1 Since writing the above, Miss Dorothy W. Knight, Rae's great-grand-niece,
has forwarded to me the following information obtained from her cousins in
Scotland :
"The business of Rae's father was in connection with shipping, either as a
ship builder or ship broker. He was in very comfortable circumstances
not great wealth, but more than the average amount of money. He was
considered a very upright man, kind, and a lover of peace. Mrs. Rae was an
exceedingly kind woman, and kept a comfortable home. She was a beauty ;
dignified in her manners, and paid great attention to the manners of her
family. Mrs. Rae died a good many years previous to her husband sometime
between 1815 and 1820. Subsequent to her death Mr. Rae lost his money.
Later, in his old age, he went a voyage with one of his sons [Alexander], and
the ship was wrecked, and both father and son drowned. "
2 See Fasti Academiae Mariscallanae, ii. pp. 407 and 412.
3 Considerable inquiry and incidental evidence in his papers maku this
statement practically certain.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxi
of his presentation. During the course of his studies he
had " come to the conclusion that the physiological medical
theories of the day were opposed to all true philosophy, and
therefore fundamentally false " ; he had also reached " a
conclusion concerning the origin of man very different from
the orthodox one." Writing to a friend late in life he
said :
" I was preparing an inaugural dissertation, as was then
th- custom in Edinburgh, previous to taking my degree ; its
title was " De Vita," and I intended to propound in it my
nil views. I was prevented by leading men in Edin-
h who had taken an interest in me, among others Dr.
A In Tcrombie, a physician in extensive practice, known to
y..ii perhaps as the author of some metaphysical works.
They represented to me that the course I was preparing to
was highly presumptious and imprudent. I should
have yielded to them with thanks, had they shown
ili; it it was erroneous. But they would not listen to
n i\ reasons, they looked only at my conclusions. In this
state of affairs I thought I would advise with my father. He
knew nothing of philosophy and physiology, but he knew the
world. His opinion was that if I was to fight I had better
r for a year or two till I gathered more strength, and
then if, as I had proposed, I wished to go to Paris, where
physiology was then more advanced than in England, he
would consent. It was perhaps good advice, as I was then
only twenty years of age. I had thus to pass a few years
lining knowledge and experience. I turned myself to
a subject kindred to my previous studies, and thus said to
It : It I a in right, deep is the pit from which we men
opened to ourselves a passage. The deeper the pit the
higher comparatively the height to which we have ascended,
therefore still greater the height we may hope to gain.
Win-nee then ;nv the forces which have so elevated us. and
whenc,- is it that humanity has been continually [lapsing]
from the jjivatest heights to the most profound depths, and
substantial progress is to the philosophical eye
SO uncertain V"
In 1818 Rae made a tour through Norway, but in \\hat
itv is not known. Apparently the event which vraa
th. -re;it turning point in his life and which was to send
him on the beginning of his wanderings had not yet
xxii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
occurred. Speaking of this time in later years, or of the
year preceding, he says, " a small estate to which I \vas
then reckoned heir would, I thought, furnish me with
sufficient means to enable me to give all my energies for all
the years I might have to live to these pursuits," that is,
' ' to make at least a beginning ' ' toward writing ' ' a truly
philosophical history of humanity." " But I was mis-
taken."
Soon after came the ' ' change ' ' in his ' ' circumstances ' '
to which he alludes in the Preface to his Political Economy,
the exact nature of which we can only guess. Several
things indicate, however, that it consisted both in financial
disaster and an unfortunate marriage. A life-long intimate
written the present writer that Rae left Aberdeen
"under a sort of bad luck, having married in haste."
Still another acquaintance has said, speaking of the years
1844-1845, " He was then married, his wife in education
far beneath him, she being the daughter of a Scotch
shepherd."
As Rae was in his twenty-fifth year when he emigrated,
the following shows that even years before the hand of
adversity, which was never to leave him, had been already
in some form or other heavy upon him. ; ' Natural disposi-
tion, strange and very early misfortunes, had marked me for
a student not a barren book-worm but a man eager for
knowledge knowledge as power the power in my concep-
tion of being a lasting benefactor to man. Thoughts
inspiring as these could alone have carried me over years
of terrible suffering which I had endured before reaching
my majority."
With this fragment casting a dark shadow on his early
life we pass from the period of adolescence to that of middle
manhood .
Rae landed in Quebec in the spring of 1821, where there
is some evidence tending to show that he found employment
for a time " in the lumber trade." At all events, he soon
after set up a private school at Williamstown, Ontario,
about fifty miles westward from Montreal, having been
invited there to teach the children of some of the rich fur
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxiii
traders of the Hudson Bay Company. Not a few of his
pupils came from a distance, and among them were his
nephew Robert Knight and Roderick W. Cameron.
Two years before the publication of his Political Economy
Rae gave up the school at Williamstown , and, residing in
the vicinity of Quebec and at Montreal, devoted himself to
preparing his work for the press. A considerable part of
1834 he spent in Boston, where he received (as reported by
his sister) ' * great attention from some literary and
distinguished characters." Not long after this he obtained
tin head-mastership of the Gore District Grammar School,
an advanced public academy, at Hamilton. 1 Some excerpts
from letters written by pupils of those days may not be out
of place here.
" He was an accomplished scholar and taught the classics,
having a Mr. Tassie as an English assistant. He was
_ f ther a remarkable man. . . . He was quite different
from ordinary men, or I think my youthful imagination
would not have been so impressed as it was. He was
undoubtedly a man of deep learning and research, and made
a powerful impression on all who knew him. He was
amiable and thoughtful of others." (George H. Mills, Esq.,
ilton, Ontario.)
' I have a very pleasant and grateful remembrance of
Dr. Rae. He was very much respected and loved by
all his pupils. I was with him at the then Grammar School
from the spring of 1836 until December, 1837, when the
Rebellion broke out, and our school broke up, the Doctor
shouldering his musket and going to Toronto to fight the
'Is.
"He was considered a fine scholar, well up in Latin, Greek
and Mathematics, and specially qualified in Geology, and
also understanding French. His mind was, in fact, a vast
storehouse of knowledge, though he had not a happy faculty
\<! it. But he had a very loving disposition that
r.d him to us all." ulge S. J. Jon<>. (inmsby
I' irk.
V recommendation for this position, signed by H. Urqahart, is dated
mber6, 1-
xxiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
' Dr. John Rao was a man of great learning, and too
little appreciated in his lifetime, like many others. . . .
He was a great writer, .soniotiinos writing night after night,
and had a lot of manuscript. . . . His conversations with
the boys that made his house their home was even more
to them than their school studios. Ho entered into all
their sports and amusements, often bringing his chemical
knowledge into play." (J. R. Martin, Esq., Windsor.)
With this last especially may be joined the statement made
by Sir Roderick W. Cameron that " Rae was a charming
companion for young and old. He taught me rabbit, mink,
and muskrat trapping, and other sports attractive to
youth. . . . He was young in thoughts and acts to the
end."
As already shown, Rae's quiet life as a teacher at
Hamilton was broken at- one period by military service.
A letter among his effects, written by Allan N. MacXah.
the commander of the Hamilton Volunteers, states, " He
was among the first who accompanied me to Toronto on
the breaking out of the Rebellion of 1837, and continued
on duty at the Niagara frontier and elsewhere as long aa
his services were required." A letter of Rae to his sister
shows that he was in action quite a considerable skirmish.
As throwing a little further light on Rae's interests and
activities during his residence in Canada, the following may
be quoted from a scrap of manuscript :
: ' No paper formalities ever effectually resist the onward
march of events. We had proof of that in Canada. One-
eighth of the lands there were deeded with all the most
binding formalities that the best lawyers could devise to
the English Church. Yet all these lands have been taken
from it. Thirty years since I ventured to predict to that
Church that this and its other exorbitant pretensions would
not stand. They were against the natural order of things r
and they implied an injustice, viz., the putting Scotchmen
in an inferior position to Englishmen. I was laughed at.
Not a lawyer of any eminence but gave it hollow against us,
insomuch that when w r e determined to make it a national
question, and to lay a solemn protest against the whole
thing before the British Parliament on constitutional
grounds, I who am no lawyer was intrusted with the drawing
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxv
up of that paper. It produced warm debates in both Houses,
was on motion of the Duke of Wellington referred to the
twelve English judges, who to their honor gave it in our
favor."
At the end of 1847 and the beginning of 1848, there
came to Rae, as far as we know without warning, what was
almost a completely crushing blow the loss of his school.
A iv port was sent by the Trustees to the Governor-General,
praying for the removal of the Head Master, on the ground
of the " unsatisfactory condition of the school," and Rae's
" inefficiency as a teacher." The school then numbered
In -tween sixty and seventy pupils.
The Governor-General declined to act by reason of lack of
jurisdiction ; and as the Trustees themselves could formally
remove the incumbent only " for misdemeanours and
impropriety of conduct," they apparently got rid of him by
closing the school. The arguments put forward in the
petition of the Trustees 1 lack the ring of sincerity, and
always felt that a cruel wrong was done him. Cherished
among his effects is a considerable mass of letters of testi-
monial, written at the time by pupils and parents of pupils,
all of a most flattering nature. A former acquaintance,
writing recently, is of the opinion that undoubtedly the real
>n for the action of the Trustees was Rae's religious
views. He had become good deal of a free thinker, and
most of the Board were clergymen.
However this may be, Rae was turned adrift. He went
first to Boston, and later to New York, where he obtained
a position in some school. While thus employed he received
the news of the death of his wife, who had remained at
ilton. Her death took place August 17, 1849, under
particularly distressing circumstances, into the details of
which it is not necessary to enter. Letters written by
friends and kindred at the time show that this must have
i a sad bereavement to the already sorely op
man. Rae himself once alludes to it as " a great and sonl-
peiiet rating sorrow."
A I read'. nary, 1^49, Rae had been thinking
1 This petition, now in my possession, is dated Dec. 30, 1847.
xxvi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
of going to California. Now that all ties binding him to old
places and associations were severed, he prepared to carry
his plan into execution. He took ship for the Isthmus late
in the autumn. At Chagres he practised medicine for some
time, and finally contracted as surgeon on the " Brutus,"
sailing from Panama. Of this part of his trip we have the
following account : " Unfortunately she [the " Brutus "]
did not sail as advertised, so that I waited at Panama five
weeks, and not having given myself out for practice, spent
every cent I had and more too. Worse than that, someone
made the Captain, who was also mostly owner of the vessel,
believe that I was no doctor, but only an old schoolmaster ;
and I believe if he could he would have shaken me off.
Being moreover a mean, greedy fellow, he made my
situation very uncomfortable. We had a great deal of
sickness on board, and a passage of nine or ten weeks." l
In California Eae at first taught school at Colona, near
Sutters Creek. Later he made cradles for washing and
balances for weighing gold. There is no evidence that he
turned gold miner himself. A large part of his stay in
El Dorado was taken up by a severe illness which nearly
ended his life.
Led on by scientific curiosity, as he explains, Eae went
from California to the Sandwich Islands, arriving early in
1851. The twenty years of a restless and disappointed old
age which he spent here were not without compensations.
He was held in esteem by several men of importance, and
had abundant material for the most absorbing physiographical
and sociological studies. The fire of the ambitions of his
1 This is taken from a letter, or series of letters written to Cameron, and
published with the title "Dr. Rae in California" in the Hamilton Gazette for
Dec. 19, 1850. It is not at all unlikely that there are other letters by Rae to
be found in the files of that paper during the early fifties. Under date of
Hamilton, Jan. 15, 1852, Cameron wrote Rae: "I intend allowing Bull to
publish extracts from your letter. I have written them out and will forward
you a copy of the paper, as well as several copies to your acquaintances
throughout the country." During that and the following year Rae wrote
several long epistles to Cameron, which he plainly expected would be published
in some journal. The present writer was not able to confer with Cameron in
respect to this matter before his death.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxvii
youth still burning strong within him, he went resolutely
to work (after an interval of school keeping) on an agricul-
tural enterprise, hoping that the money gained would some
day take him to the literary centres of the old world. He
worked with his own hands, and with such headlong zeal
that his friends remonstrated. But all to no avail. Failure
came here as in almost everything else to which he put
his hand. He explains the exasperating details in a letter
to \Villson, but I pass them over. 1
At least as early as July, 1853, while residing at Wailuku,
Island of Maui, Eae was Medical Agent of the Board of
Health, a position which he also held in 1869, and presum-
ably during the interval. One of the most interesting of
his papers is entitled, "Journal of a Tour around East
Maui." This was a walking expedition, lasting a month
or two, and made for the purpose of vaccinating the natives.
It was evidently entered upon with the keenest zest. He
everything ; literally nothing of interest seems to have
escaped him.
cording to Commissions in my possession, Eae was
appointed District Justice at Hana, East Maui, in 1859, and
again in 1863. From all accounts he must have been given
this office at other times as well , but there is no documentary
proof at hand. The position was one of some importance.
A Correspondent in Honolulu mentions one particularly
interesting case of sorcery that came before him. He lived,
we learn from the same source, in a solitary place far back
from the sea ; and when he walked abroad his tall , spare
form was seen always accompanied by two large dogs.
In April, 1871, Cameron wrote his old friend and teacher,
1 The reference is to Hugh Bowlby Willson, son of the Hon. John Willson,
"at one time Speaker of the Canadian Legislature." He was a barrister,
engineer, promoter, general railway agent and commission merchant, author,
and editor, during 1849, of the short-lived Canadian Independent, established
in the interests of annexation. Rae was willing to be associated in this last
enterprise, but was too much broken up at the time to take an active part.
Willson's published works are on engineering and monetary subjects. Ap-
parently he was a man of exceptional range of ability, but always unfortunate
And poor. There is iibun ', nee in Rae's papers that Willson was his
best frimd. Lik-- ! -avi-H to like.
xxviii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
to whom several times he had been of material assistance r
" If you will conu- and spend your remaining years with me,
I will defray all your expenses from Maui to my home."
accepted this invitation, and sailed on the steamer
" Ajax " in July. The change of climate affected him
seriously, so that he kept his room the following winter and
spring, and finally passed away, as already stated, in mid-
summer. He was buried in Woodland Cemetery, State n
Island, in a lot, purchased by Sir Roderick, " in which two
others, one a faithful servant and the other a distant relative r
are buried."
Thus far I have given in bare outline only the chief mile-
stones, as it were, along the career of the man w r hose life is
before us. It is necessary to fill in the gaps with some
further account of what he did, and what he thought and
felt. A scholar, not a man of action, what he did is of
course to be found chiefly in his studies.
Some account of a speculation which interested him in
early youth has already been given. Another one, of a
different sort, at that period of his life, was a scheme " for
determining the rate and setting of a current at sea." The
device for this purpose (applicable to both surface and under-
currents) is described in some detail in one of his papers ,
but it is scarcely fitting to reproduce it here. 1
Of the fate of this project Rae says writing to Willson :
' I was then under a very eminent professor of mathe-
matics in the Marischal College, Aberdeen, the late Dr.
Hamilton, and showed it him. He allowed it sound in
theory and ingenious, but smiled it down as impracticable.
Though not convinced I was obliged to yield and let it go,
as I did not wish to irritate my father. ... Dr. Hamilton's
objection to my scheme was that it was very good on paper,
but that in so boisterous an element as the ocean it was almost
absurd to think it could be of any practical utility. He
judged of the ocean from fanciful notions he had got sitting
in his easy chair. I knew something of it then, and have
1 The chief principle employed was that of the pressure of the water upon
air in a cylinder to disengage at varying depths weights attached to bodies of
different specific gravity.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxix
lived on it many a long day since, and can see nothing
absurd in the project. In fact, in weather in which a whale
could live, there would be no difficulty in giving the
globes their proper position in the water. In other weather,
DO attempt at deep sounding by the lead itself could be made
with a prospect of success. Once a few feet beneath the
surface all violent motion ceases.
I < annot but think, however, that the temper of mind
which led him to object was one with which all inventions
are commonly, one might almost say reasonably, met. Nine
n of all mechanical schemes are abortive. In fact,
th.-y generally take their rise in this way. Some idea new,
or conceived to be new, flits by chance across the brain of a
man unaccustomed to new ideas. The novelty of the thing,
and still more so the novelty of its occurring to himself, sets
it on a point of view that puts all other conceptions out of
: and magnifies itself prodigiously. It becomes therefore
Ins hobby, and he rides it, or more frequently it rides
him. But the man who is consulted in such a case,
ially if he has been in the habit of being so consulted,
sees the thing in a very different light. He knows that these
projects are almost all vanity, that some flaw in their con-
ception makes them impracticable, or that a search would
prove thrm not original. In short, that it is ten to one if
this particular one succeed. Besides, if he be a man of
. i at ion in science, he is annoyed at being obliged to give
ip time that is valuable to the task of finding out flaws, and
rdimrlv takes hold of the first that presents itself. This
shortens his labour, keeps his reputation safe, and is probably
a charity to the inventor. In this way it perhaps is that
thr greater number of new inventions have not had the
sanction of the learned, and that, if given at all, it has been
in a mighty cautious manner. I know therefore that I
-lion Id myself have great difficulty at present to get anyone
to take hold of a single one of my schemes, and am a\
that I am putting your friendship to a somewhat severe test
king you to attempt it."
One of the " schemes " here alluded to was a device for a
i ddle wheel for steamboats. There are diagrams
descriptions among his papers. The feathering was to
take place in a vertical plane parallel with the keel, instead
<>t at rijht angles with it, as is the case \\ith leathering
inv. ni ions now in us . The plan was probably therefore
xxx BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
of little practical value, but it is of interest +? note that
Eae had the idea of the importance and possibility of
feathering paddle wheels, probably before any one else.
Among his papers, also, is considerable in the way of
inventive speculation on the art of shipbuilding in general,
and several essays on aeronautics. 1
But what interests us most are Rae's sociological (in the
broad sense of the term) rather than his mechanical studies.
In the Preface to the Political Economy he speaks of "a
work on the present state of Canada, and on its relations
with the rest of the British Empire," on which he had
become engaged after taking up his residence in Canada.
In 1832, while still at Williamstown, he addressed a petition
to Sir John Colborne, the Lieutenant-Go vernor, praying for
aid to publish a book " On the Present State and Resource
of the Province " (title as given by H. J. Morgan). This
petition was submitted to the House of Assembly and duly
printed in its Journals, but there the matter seems to have
been dropped. There is no record, so I am informed, to
indicate that the composition was ever printed.
In all probability, this was the work mentioned in the
Preface : one which Eae seems to have spent much labour
upon, and to have valued in some respects above his Political
Economy. In one of his letters to Willson he says :
' I had thoroughly studied Canada in both its natural *and
moral aspects, and could have told England what it really
was and what it wanted. Had I had the least aid (100
would have done it) , I should have accomplished this ; and
looking soberly on the matter as a thing past, it is now my
firm conviction that I should thus have averted all the
disasters of the Rebellion and brought on a dozen years
earlier that period of prosperity which the province now
enjoys. I will not inflict you with my reasons for this
1 In a letter (undated) written to Willson we read : " After a little re-
flection I have decided on sending you a summary of that whole part of my
century which relates to progression through water. I am partly led to this
from having the chance of sending a heavy packet with safety by my friend
J. W. Austin, Esq., of Boston, who has resided for some years in these
islands in a position somewhat analogous to our Attorney-General, and who
now is returning to his native soil. He will write you and receive your
instructions as to transmitting this and the other papers he takes charge of."
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxxi
conviction. Had this been so I could have brought out my
ideas concerning some points on Political Economy with
the prospect of a fair hearing."
And again in a letter to John Stuart Mill he writes-
apparently of this same literary undertaking as follows :
' I cannot go on with my account of the Sandwich Islands
till I see ai mine them all. ... I have therefore
th< 'light of inditing a small work on Canada Recollections
of Canada. Many years ago I had formed the project of
writing an extended work on the Province, had visited all
pnrts of it, collected information of all sorts concerning it,
and had written a large part. I had intended to publish
this before my Political Economy. Unfortunately I was
induced to put forth the latter in Boston, under the assurance
from Mr. A. Everett 1 that it would be appreciated there.
Hi- was, however, I believe scared at it. Could not make
up his mind, nor could any one there, if I was right or
wrong, and so passed it by with praise of its style, etc.
This damned it. My bad success here was a bar to my
work on Canada, for as this was long and went to the bottom
of things, my friends and the booksellers prognosticated that
it would, like the former, be too heavy a w r ork to be read.
I k'-pt the manuscript by me, adding to my stock of inform a -
as occasion offered, still thinking of one day bringing it
forth. Among other mischances that have befallen, these
mscripts, sent to New York, seem to have been strangely
lost. So there is an end of that .
" However, I think I could write a small book that would
have a certain currency. I am more inclined to think this
from the following circumstance. Some time before leaving
Canada, a young friend came to reside with me, and having
something of a turn for politics was very free in his inquiries
as to my opinions and views of matters, which I gave him
in full. On this foundation, for he knew nothing of these
matters himself, he goes and writes an article for Black wood.
I just saw it before leaving America, and found it a reflection
of my own thoughts, though sometimes dim or distorted.
Sm<t landing on these shores I have had letters from
Canada asking if I were the author and stating that the
article had had considerable success."
1 This was Alexander H brother of Edward I iiplotnat,
editor of the North American Revi- to some extent on economic
it-view of Rae'i Political Economy is in Vol. XL. of tli. :
xxxii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Further than this, nothing is known of the nature or
fate of this presumably profound treatise. 1
The reception accorded his Political Economy was always
a keen disappointment to Rae. He received practically
nothing for it pecuniarily, as he informed Cameron ; and it
was not until nearly thirty years after it was published
that he learned Mill had noticed it. Apparently he never
knew that it was translated in 1856, in Volume XI., first
series, of Ferrara's Biblioteca deWEconomista.
This is not the place to give any extended criticism of
this work, pronounced by Professor Irving Fisher (Yale
Review, Vol. V., p. 457) to be "truly a masterpiece, a
book of a generation or a century." 2 I wish here merely
to point out that its influence, even from the first, has been
greater than is commonly supposed. A careful study of
John Stuart Mill's Principles reveals many undoubted
instances of indebtedness. Indeed, on the side of pure
economics it may be said that it was Rae, more than any
other, who modified the Ricardian basis of Mill's thought.
To an equal extent, perhaps, is Hearn in his Plutology
indebted to Rae. This is seen not so much in particular
passages as in the method and spirit of this admirable
treatise. The high commendation which Jevons, Marshall,
and Edgew T orth have bestowed upon Hearn 's work , therefore ,
belongs in part to another. It may be also mentioned in
passing that Professor Thomas Fowler in his Principles of
Morals (Part II., Oxford, 1887, pp. 50-59) makes considor-
1 According to one of Rae's old pupils, " J. S. Hogan made use of portions
of Rae's history of Canada to get up an article for Blackwood for which he
received 40 sterling." This same pupil " well recollects " Rae " often reading
extracts from his History of Canada." Rae himself once makes bare mention
of a "nearly completed physical history of Canada." There were two articles
on Canada in BlackiooocVs Magazine during 1849, both unsigned, but dated
Hamilton, Canada West, one or both of which must be that to which Rae and
my correspondent refer. John Sheridan Hogan published in Montreal, in
1855, an essay on Canada which was awarded the first prize by "the Paris
Exhibition Committee of Canada."
2 Compare the opinion of Professor Edgeworth in Palgrave's Dictionary of
Political Economy, and of Professor Sydney Sherwood in Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity Studies in Historical and Political Science, fifteenth series, pp. 582-584,
and 590-591.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxxiii
able use of Rae, drawing on him at second hand through
the quotations given in Mill's Principles. An intellectual
candle of real power, if it be not wholly placed under a
bushel, shines far.
While at Hamilton, Rae had privately printed in 1843 an
Essay on the Question of Education, in as far as it concerns
Canada. The title page and a few detached leaves only of
this monograph were found among his effects. Some effort
has been made to obtain knowledge of the whereabouts of a
complete copy, but without success. It is also known that
in the last years of his life Rae had at least " nearly
completed " another work " On Education," but what
became of it has not been ascertained.
After his establishment in the Sandwich Islands, Rae's
studies were most multitudinous, in fact too much so : little
was brought to completion. Some essays on geology and
on medical subjects were indeed written out and sent home
either to Cameron or Willson, with the request that they
be published in Stillman's Journal, 1 or in some other
scientific periodical ; but evidently nothing came of them. 2
Among the manuscripts falling into my possession, by far
the most extensive and orderly were those upon geology and
kindred subjects, pertaining both to Canada and the
Hawaiian Islands. These have been placed in proper
hands, and may in part be printed.
But though much attention while in Maui was devoted to
geology, to questions of the welfare of the native race, and
to his mechanical inventions, Rae's chief study was upon
the language. He had a theory that the Hawaiian race
represented in great purity, by reason of its isolation, an
exceedingly primitive culture ; just as the old Norse culture
is at present most purely represented in Iceland. He
believed he was studying in the Hawaiian language a
survival of a pre-Sanskrit language the original tongue
of a universal stone age. Apparently bold generalizations
as to language-building, the relations between sounds and
1 Later called The American Journal of Science and Arts.
2 This was done, it appears, on two occasions, in 1852 and ten or twelve
years later.
xxxiv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
actions, were carrying him far into a most profound
philological and anthropological speculation. I say
apparently here, because of my ignorance of such matters,
and because this part of his manuscript is the most frag-
mentary and chaotic of all.
Some of the results of his studies along these lines, and
also on some other matters pertaining to the existing
condition of the Hawaiians, we know to have been printed
in a Honolulu newspaper, The Polynesian, during the early
sixties. 1 A few excerpts from these articles being sent by
an acquaintance, R. C. Wyllie, 2 to John Stuart Mill, led
Mill to write Rae at least once ; a communication which ,
however, was never received. A copy of a letter by Mill to
Wyllie respecting Rae, found among the latter 's effects,
runs as follows :
BLACKHEATH PARK,
KENT, Feb. 3, 1863.
SIR, I have had the honour of receiving your letter and
the printed slips which you have been kind enough to send.
These I have read with the attention due to any work of Dr.
Rae, and they appear to me quite worthy of his intellect
and acquirements. The picture which he draws of the
dangers that menace the interesting community of which
you are one of the rulers, is most formidable. Of the
remedies which he proposes, I cannot be a competent judge,
but, as far as my means of judgment extend, he seems to
be right in much, perhaps even in all, that he proposes.
The other paper will, I think, place Dr. Rae very high
among ethnologists and philologists. After having reached
by independent investigation the highest generalization
previously made, namely, that all languages have grown by
development from a few hundred words, Dr. Rae seems to
1 So far as the editor has been able to ascertain, the only copies of The
Polynesian which are available for the period when Rae contributed to
its columns, are in the British Museum Vols. 15-19, covering from May,
1858, to April, 1863.
2 Mr. Wyllie, as he states in one of his letters to Rae, was formerly "an
East India merchant, railway director, and director (in fact, the starter) of
the Pacific Steam Navigation Company." He was soon after deceased (about
1865 or 1866), holding at the time a high position under the Hawaiian
Government.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxxv
have supplied the first probable explanation of the manner
in which these primitive words may themselves have
originated. If his hypothesis is made out, it is the keystone
of the science of philology, it is a priori extremely probable,
and the facts he brings forward establish a strong case of
verification a posteriori. I hope that Dr. Max Miiller has
put in possession of this important speculation.
It must be of great value to your country to have such a
as Dr. Rae settled among you.
It is very gratifying to me that you are disposed to carry
the principle of minorities into practical operation. That
such should be questions agitated in a country which three-
quarters of a century ago was in the savage state is surely
of the most remarkable signs of the very hopeful times
in which we live. I am, Sir, your most obedient servant,
J. S. MILL.
His Excellency, R. C. Wyllie, Esquire.
After an interval Rae wrote Mill the following :
" SIR, Permit me to render you my thanks for having
taken the trouble some two or three years since to write my
late friend Mr. Wyllie concerning some papers of mine that
had appeared in the Polynesian newspaper of Honolulu,
of which he had sent you copies. You may well
suppose I was much gratified by the favourable opinion of
whose judgment deservedly carries so much weight with
it as yours in all philosophical questions. I address you at
present to request a favour. I desire to dedicate to you a
work on the Polynesian language and its connections with
the history of speech, and consequently of humanity. You
amid have formed but a very imperfect idea of my views
from my letter to Mr. Wyllie, which was not intended for
publication, and in which, from its growing too voluminous
<>n in y hands, I often dropped the thread of my argument
without pursuing statements I had made to their legitimate
coiiMMjiicnrrs. I cannot of course attempt to rm-nd the
ter here, or to give even a summary of my argument,
but I may state the conclusions at which I have arrived, as
wdl as those at which I might hope to arrive, and thus
explain to you the reasons which urge me to make the
esl 1 have preferred.
'1 IM IK \e it may be shown that the race from which the
Polynesians spring was at the head of civilization of the age
of stone, and were settled in Hindustan and along the
xxx vi BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
southern and more fertile shores of Asia. It seems, too, that
the facts on which my reasons rest are indisputable, the
deduction perfectly logical, and the conclusion therefore
irrefragable. This forms the first part of my book. The
:nl pertains to the language. As to it, there have come
into it two sounds, significant of themselves, which have a
close analogy to the cries of the higher order of animals,
and have somehow been modified by and incorporated into
the articulate speech. The one is a (the broad Scotch or
Italian a) and it may be translated action. The other is o
which denotes distance and connection. This may seem a
contradiction, but in reality if a thing be distant it must be
distant from something else, and that something must there-
fore to the mind have some relation to it or connection with
it. The articulate sounds or syllables of the Polynesian
language are either simple vowels, or end in vowels. There
are about forty of them, and the remarkable fact as to all
of them is this : When the organs of speech with the aid of
the breath shape an articulate syllable, they also themselves-
take a shape, form and movement, and in this language,
this shape and movement have always an analogy to the
thing or action which the sound of the syllable or conjoined
syllable denotes."
Here the letter breaks off.
Rae's manuscript in epistolary form addressed to Mill is-
rather voluminous. 1 Those parts which relate to political
economy have been printed in the Economic Journal for
March, 1902 (Vol. XII., No. 45) and in the Quarterly
Journal of Economics for November, 1901 (Vol. XVI.,
No. 1). A small additional fragment appears as Article VI.
in the Appendix to this volume. 2
Among the friends of Rae's later life was Abraham
Fornander, editor of The Polynesian at the time when
Rae's articles appeared in that journal. In the years 1878-
1885, Fornander published a three volume work, which
attained some celebrity, entitled An Account of the
1 It is not known whether a fair copy of any of this was ever sent to Mill,
but it is not unlikely. Rae seems also to have corresponded with Dr. William
Beattie in England.
2 Some excerpts from Rae's miscellaneous manuscript are also introduced at
different points indicated in the text.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxxvii
Polynesian Race, its Origin and Migrations. In the
Preface to the first volume, among other general acknow-
ledgments of literary obligation, we read, " The late Dr.
John Rae of Hana, Maui, who, in a series of articles
published in The Polynesian (Honolulu, 1862), first called
attention to the extreme antiquity of the Polynesian
language." This is the only reference Fornander makes
to Rae. The present writer is of the opinion that Rae
originated most of the ideas which were followed out in this
work by his contemporary.
I may add in this connection that a transcription of one
of the ancient legends of the Hawaiians with Rae's
explanatory notes, found among his effects, has been printed
in Volume XIII., No. 51. (1900), of the Journal of American
Folk- Lore. It shows a vitality not found in Fornander 's
Polynesian Race.
Of Rae's inner life, especially on the intellectual side, we
get occasional glimpses in his correspondence. Writing to
Willson from Chagres, December 27th, 1849, he said :
" I have now for many years been an exile from the land
which I had chosen as my home, and in which I had made
up my mind to pass my remaining days, and within the
present month, and in beginning old age, have become a
wanderer and adventurer over the wide earth. You know
th cruel injustice which has thus driven me forth. You
partly know also the cruel sufferings thus entailed on me,
and which have almost rent my heart. But this of good has
Ited from all. Nature under a new face, humanity
under an altered aspect ; a sense of danger, and a necessity
;< -tion, have, as it were, renewed my soul, and enabled
me to look calmly on what I have been and what I am.
Tli us I see myself as in times past destiny seemed to have
[>1 me, I can analyze, as it were, the elements of my
MM n existence, and taking my stand on what new has
broken iii on it, can measure and look on it as a thing apart
ii th<- prr.s.-nt.
' Fortune has not permitted me to be the student I would
sired. The study of such a one is in the spacious
library win-re undisturbed and uncontrolled he can roam
the thoughts and read the souls of men of all times ami
r. Hi n tries ; or else the wide world itself, with all conveniences
viii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
re it and examine the various aspects of nature and
man whieh it exhibits or better still, each alternately.
Only partially, only scantily have I enjoyed these advantages.
hut' every man has a world of study within his own soul,
and in the workings of the passions of those around him.
1 have not neglected. . . .
" Alas for the student, ardent and feeling, and with hopes
like mine, pursuing truth without dread as concerns self,
shrinking from it when at length grasped as a thing,
fchougb having within itself the energetic powers of a new
and better order of things yet coming on the present world,
if receiving it, like one of the phials of wrath of the
alypse. 1 had d< termined that no important writing
line should appear till after rny death. Thus I could
acquit myself to the Omnipotent for not hiding what He
had allowed me to see of what at least appeared to me ligJii ,
and avoid the suspicion of being actuated by personal
motives. . . .
" What now I may do is uncertain. I know not even if
my manuscripts are safe. Certainly a new spirit is
awakened within me, and may lead to a new course of
action, if I be not cut down by some of the chances which
I see fall to so many around me. . . .
" Now as concerns Canadian independence, or annexa-
tion ; that also as a thing interesting in itself, and more
cially as one to be taken as a sign of other things of
greater interest with which the present era seems pregnant,
had occupied at least some little of my attention ; but I had
ome accustomed to view it from a point and in a light
different from that in which politicians of the hour necessarily
d it.
' Let me explain myself. When one commences the
study of history, it is generally under the apprehension that
this study will serve as a master key to the problems of the
day, and will enable him not only to form just conclusions
concerning them, but, if so prompted, to address his eon-
temporaries with authority and power. But as he advances
farther and farther in the pursuit, and if he has seized the
philosophical spirit of investigating it which has begun to
give its proper life to the inquiries of the age, he finds the
eye of his mind conducted by it to a far higher elevation
whence it takes in a great reach of the whole tide of
humanity lying beneath, flowing on with unceasing current
from the dim and cloudy mountains of the past in lengthened
course to the immense and measureless future. Not only is
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xxxix
his soul absorbed by the contemplation of the vast prospect,
but he feels both the comparative insignificance of the
immediate present and his own want of power to control
it. XVhat is a slight turning in the course or a little ripple
on the surface of the huge stream which, under the guidance
so mighty is hurrying on so fast and so tar.'
Not only do the questions of the day diminish before him to
mere waves chafing the shore and serving little else but to
mark the strength of the great feelings, sufferings, passions,
or if you will, principles which, as it were blindly and
confusedly, though doubtless under the real government of
an Omnipotent hand whose workings pass his ken, impel
the mighty mass along; but also he becomes sensible how
insignificant individual efforts must be to control forces
which he sees and feels bearing others and himself away
with overwhelming energy.
4 To one having learned to view things in this light, it
must be difficult, and I found it impossible in New York,
to write a popular article such as the interests of your
Journal require on a question which if not in the temper in
which it is agitated at least in the thing itself is profoundly
Hgnificant."
In another letter addressed to Willson, undated, but
apparently written from the Isthmus or California, we
read,
" A change has come o'er the thread of my life. You
have perhaps seen a horse of a sort of sluggish temper, not
deficient in any of the externals that denote some degree
of power, but yet who seemed incapable of anything but a
:>orn, shambling gait which whip or spur made only
more uncomfortable. Well, gather your reins, feel that you
.veil in your saddle, and spare not but dig the iron well
into his sides. You will rouse him : and if you keep your
seat through his first plungings and boundmgs it may be
you will be astonished how well and fast and far he
will bear you. Such is the change that has come over the
temper of my mind. The iron has pierced deep into me, it
n my very vitals, and for aught I sec will do so till
>ver me. I must be doing something, I have
f m action. . . . London. Paris, with a little capital in
money and literary reputation have been my aim for years.
Then-, with the assistance of libraries, museums, friends
u ho could and might be induced to assist me, I have <
ceived I should have the fairest field for my literary and
xl BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
philosophical speculations, and for iny mechanical schemes.
The one would assist the other. Had it not been for those
confounded Trustees, my plans were so laid that I feel pretty
<. undent I should before this have been there, and it was
this overthrow of my plans more than the mere ejection
from the school that so nearly overset me, and but for you,
I believe, would have given me my final quietus."
Writing still again to this faithful friend, from Hana
under date of December, 1856, Rae says :
" If you would really help a man you must know how to
help him. You must know in what his well-being and
happiness consist, what therefore are his objects and aims.
My earlier friends in Canada could not conceive or at least
understand what were mine. They thought me foolish in
burying the attainments and ability they were pleased to
give me credit for in the subordinate position of a village
surgeon, or still worse in that of a country schoolmaster.
They could not conceive that my main need was quiet, to
think out my thoughts. When after ten years of this sort of
life I had sufficiently mastered my subjects and digested my
problems and wished to put some of them before the world,
they had changed their notion of me , and viewing me now as
a mere schoolmaster stood aloof from me and my projects,
and would give me neither effective countenance nor support.
Some hinted that had I taken their advice I might have
been in a very different position, while the prudent said,
' What are your chances of gaining by this? How much
will it put in your pocket? Sit quiet.' Others again,
looking on me as a mere adventurer, and measuring me from
my humble place and comparing it with the magnitude of
my enterprises, seemed to say, ' What, you a village teacher,
think you can master such high themes? The man is mad :
we will have nothing to do with him.' ... I have found all
men, even my most intimate friends, measuring the probable
success of my schemes not from what they inherently were,
but from the position of myself, the one bringing thorn
forward. Thus I recollect well when I projected publishing
my work on political economy, my friends were quite
incredulous of my ability to controvert the doctrines of Ad MTU
Smith in any particular, and smiled part in pity, part in
wonderment, at the presumption of one who had not
been able to raise himself from the position of a country
schoolmaster embarking on so hopeless an enterprise.
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xli
"Now had they known my motives for contenting myself
-with what seemed to them so inferior a station, they
might or at least they ought to have come to another con-
clusion. It was in truth because I was engaged in important
speculations for which school life though a drudgery yet
.gave me many hours of quiet leisure, that I contented myself
with it. I feared that if I then pushed really into the
battle of life these speculations would be likely to dim
before me, and probably at last fade in the distance. I now
think I was wrong in this events at least would seem to
prove my having been so. At any rate, had I to run the
same course over again, I would act differently. I think I
ought to have studied law, for which through Judge Maclean
\vay would have been open to me, and secured to myself
a certain social position that would have enabled me in no
long time to have given myself to pursuits more congenial
iy feelings. I do not believe that either great success
or comparative failure in a legal career would have been able
to turn me from the occasional contemplation and ultimate
pursuit of the magnificent visions of my youth. Yet who
knows?" .
There is evidence that at some time in his career Rae's
fri.-nds, instead of being incredulous of his powers, had
tfrged him to ' ' push forward on some undertaking " ; for
in one fragment of epistolary manuscript we find the
following :
" Now this was the way to make me sit still. Even the
f, -HI eying to myself that personal advantage was in reality
th- end of my efforts was sure to confound me, and the
holding this up to me as their true aim and object completely
lysed me. ... It may seem incredible to you, but
it is the real fact that these clinnings in my ears always
brought a similar chaos over my thoughts, and if fool
i#h to try, I only floundered on from one instability
to another. This may seem to you a strange, unnatural,
almost mad humor of mine. So perhaps it was; it was
at least what doctors call abnormal, the result probably
in part of my peculiar organization, in part of cruel
iii'-rital suffering in nrly youth, the fruits, the avengers
i;ips, of a momentary yielding to violent passions. This
gave to the world and all it holds a real air of mere vanity
i vexation of spirit."
xlii BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
One more passage from a letter, or rather parts of different
letters, may he quoted, written from Maui, but to whom tt
is impossible with certainty to B
t'roin a very early period ot my life I had turned my
attention and, as occasion presented itself, bent all the
powers of my mind to trace out the causes which have given
shape and form to humanity, and from whence have eome
the laws which have hitherto governed and must in future
ni its progress. ... A train of singularly untoward
and to me disastrous circumstances, and of such a chara<
that for the honor of human nature I trust the history of
few individuals can present a parallel [have impeded my
endeavors]. . . . Nevertheless wherever I have been, and
however situated, the idea of my youth has held possession
of me, and has been the central point of all my resean
and speculations. Now in my old age I am desirous of
recording [as much as is possible of the results of my
labours]. ... I can scarcely hope to tell my fellow-men
all that during my life I have gathered together from the
recorded past and the actual present, of the paths we have
travelled from our first appearance on earth to the present
hour, and the ways we have to travel to the end. To me
the sun is surely soon to set. Yet while daylight lasts I am
desirous of adding what I can to those stores of knowledge,
and truth which are the only substantial inheritance which
age can bequeath to age. I had thought of commencing by
giving a sketchy outline of what I may call my system f
and had in fact composed a great part of such outline.
Certain circumstances, however, warn me that this plan is-
imprudent, and that it is better to pat forth what I know
and desire to tell in parts, mere fragments of the great-
whole which is spread out before my view. Each to other
men will seem fragmentary ; if I live long enough I may
form them into a system, or rather the skeleton of a system r
which perhaps others may till up. One of these fragments
is the relation which the Polynesian race and language bear
to other races and languages, and to the origin of language
itself. My investigations as to this last point have, I think,
led me to some important discoveries. I am now preparing
a work on these subjects which I hope to have published
in London. I think it more likely than any other of my
speculations to draw some share of public attention. I have
not, however, confined myself to this alone, but have drawn
out the plan and partly written some essays on subjects having
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xliit
a bearing on what is shadowed out in my mind as a real
philosophic history of our race. It was thus that some
months since I wrote the essay which I send. I had not,
however, thought of publishing it for perhaps a year or two,
nor even then until it had been submitted to the judgment of
some scientific friend who might be competent to detect any
mistake in the mechanical part, if any there were." l
And now to conclude this series of excerpts, we may set
down the following : standing on a bit of paper by itself r
and in so wavering a hand that it may well have been
written during Rae's last illness.
' If we regard the generous impulses, the ennobling hopes y
the lofty aspirations, that swell the breast of youth, we
should say that the human heart was a soil in which the
heaven-wafted seeds of every virtue might germinate and
jn>w and flourish, and spread a paradise over the earth.
lint alas, when the time comes when each has to cast himself
into the stream of actual life, the movements of whose
impetuous current have come down from places and times
far remote, the first plunge awakens him to the absorbing
necessity of putting forth all his energies to maintain himself
in the whirling tide. He loses sight of those landmarks-
which were to have guided his course. Progress, Progress,
is his cry; and on he dashes, pushing aside and thrusting
down."
But in all this one gets rather a distorted picture of the
sort of man Rae really was. The reader must consider that
th.-se things were written late in life, and make allowances.
Hf should, especially, group with them the impressions.
derived from the work put forth by Rae in his prime.
Those who knew him in the flesh, not primarily as a man
cience but as a teacher and friend, represent him as
athl.-tic in mind and in body; as cheerful, courageous,
ularly devoid of all petty ambitions and meanness. He
was built on a large plan.
One fault he had of an int< -11< ( -tiial sort which st<
seriously in his way as a successful writer, and that was a
marked tendency to take in all the length and breadth of
1 This may have been written to Dr. W. Beattie, for in a scrap of a letter
aillresed to him is discussed the same literary project.
xliv BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
any subject, and to sound its depths. Consequently 'he
always went off into digressions, frequently of excessive
length a habit which grew upon him. But to take in the
length and breadth of a subject and to sound its depths is
the mark of genius. If Rae could have had suitable
conditions for scientific work (such as seemed open to him
in his early youth) he would undoubtedly have been steadied
as well as stimulated he would have shown proper concen-
trationand then with his powers of imagination and range
of information, what results might the world not have had
from him? Or if when he came to America he had settled
in one of the larger cities, with access to libraries and
contact with other well-trained minds, how different would
his life have been? But nevertheless he did not altogether
miss his mark. His work, not without influence when first
published, though later neglected, did not die. The reviv.il
of interest came when others began to exploit the same field ,
and when the science as a whole had made a great advance.
There now seems every prospect that this interest will widen,
and intensify, and endure.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
(The work here presented to the American reader, was composed with
the intention of being published in Great Britain ; under this idea the
following Preface was written. As it explains the design of the original
undertaking, it has been thought proper that it should retain the place it-
was at first intended to occupy.)
T<> promote prosperity within, to guard against danger from
without, have ever been esteemed the two great branches of
the duty of the Statesman. But of all the sources of internal
prosperity, or means of repelling external aggressions, no
one, in modern times, is of greater efficacy than wealth.
\\\- have, therefore, no reason to be surprised, that states-
men should have endeavored to procure for their respective
countries the greatest possible amount of it. If the laws
they have enacted, and the regulations they have for this
purpose established, have really answered the ends they were
intended to promote, they are certainly praiseworthy.
Of the efficacy of such laws, for those purposes, politicians
for a long time did not doubt; but a great revolution in
public opinion has taken place, and almost all men who
now pretend to understand the principles that should govern
rhi policy of nations, agree in condemning them.
This revolution in the opinions of men, had its rise in
It might have died there, however, with the sect
from which it had birth, had not a man of surprising genius,
placing himself at the head of the feeble jmrty then
MI I >f>nrt ing it, enabled them to give their principles currency
throughout the nations of Europe. Adam Smith will be
led among remote generations, as one having power-
fully influenced the options and policy of the civilized world,
xlvi AUTHOR'S PREFACE
during the en:ht. -<-nth and nineteenth centuries. His great
\\ork no south -r appeared in Britain than it was read, and the
opinions it maintained adopted, by every one who pretended
ny knowledge of the important subjects of which it
treated. It quickly, and with like success, spread through
other lands. Never was the force which mere intellect
s more strikingly manifested. To illustrate his
speculations, to cast them into new forms suited to the
varied tastes of various nations, became an employment by
which men of undoubted genius thought themselves honored.
His reasonings are the basis of numerous systems and
innumerable essays. A voluminous library might be formed
of the works of men who call him master. Nor were the
dicta of a retired student acquiesced in, and embraced, only
by theorists like himself. They have guided the councils,
they have formed the text book of statesmen, and have had
an important influence on the policy of nations.
Against doctrines supported by so great a weight of
authority, what, it may be demanded, can possibly be urged ?
and how comes it, that so obscure an individual as the author
of the following pages, places himself in opposition to them ?
Custom authorises me in a measure calls on me in
answer to these questions, to state to the reader how I was
led to form opinions opposed to this system, and why I
bring those opinions before him.
Many years ago, I became engaged in a series of inquiries
into the circumstances which have governed the history of
man, or, to vary the expression, into the causes which have
made him what he is in various countries, or has been in
various times. It seemed to me, that, by gathering together
all that consciousness makes known to us of what is within,
and all that observation informs us of what lies without,
the real agents in the production of the great events by
which the fortunes of our race have been diversified, might
be at least partially discovered, the laws regulating their
procedure traced, and that thus the materials for a true
Natural History of man might be reached. The pursuits in
which I was then engaged led me to the subject on the side of
physiology, and what is termed metaphysics, and imagining
AUTHOR'S PREFACE xlvii
that I saw a ray of light struggling through the obscurity of
the objects, amidst which these investigations placed me,
I began to conceive hopes of being able to dispel some of
the darkness, in which are involved causes that have
produced, and are producing, results of the highest import-
to us. To this pursuit I determined to devote myself.
i a resolution would scarcely have been taken by any one
unless prompted by the enthusiasm natural to youth, and
would not have been adopted by me, had I not had the
prospect of enjoying every facility in following out the objeets
I had in view ; but a sudden and unexpected change took
plaee in my circumstances, and I exchanged the literary
ire of Europe for the solitude and labors of the Canadian
: woods. I found, notwithstanding, that this accident
could not altogether put a stop to my inquiries, though it
irded them and altered their form.
I had early turned for assistance to the Inquiry into the
Xnturr and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, and to the
illations of the political economists. But, I found
their scope and design too confined, to advance the attain-
ment of my purpose in the degree I had anticipated ; and I
had besides the mortification of perceiving, that the con-
clusions to which they led, were, in many points, opposed
to those at which I had arrived. Encountering opposition
wli.-re I had looked for support, I applied myself to ascertain,
it possible, the cause, and, after having spent considerable
in the inquiry, conceived I had detected enough of
fallacy in the speculations, even of Adam Smith himself,
lii t more especially of his successors, to warrant the belief
that my conclusions might be right, though the practical
rules that might be deduced from them, would not coincide
\\ith those laid down in what is termed the science of
political economy. But, though I became satisfied on this
. it was not my intention to have directly ntta< -k >d any
<>f the tenets of the school. Setting out from a new point.
it seemed to me, that, however far 1 mi^ht advance, it would
not he necessary for me directly to oppose, or to attempt to
krovert, any received opinions.
my residence in this country, the field of my
xlviii AUTHOR'S PREFACE
inquiries being much contracted, I again recurred to the
disquisitions of Adam Smith, and of other European writers,
of the same school, in order to trace out more fully than 1
had hitherto done, the connexion between the phenomena
attending the increase and diminution of wealth, and those
general principles of the nature of man, and of the world,
determining, as I conceive, the whole progress of human
affairs. Though I was led to this study, simply from my
desire to advance, as far as my situation permitted me, in a
path of investigation which had, to me, a very lively interest ,
my prosecution of it had the effect of impressing me more
deeply with a conviction of the unsoundness of the system
maintained in the Wealth of Nations.
In this stage of my progress I became engaged in a work
on the present state of Canada, and on its relations
with the rest of the British Empire. These relations seem
to me to spring from the mutual benefit arising to the colony
and the empire from their connexion. The sect of poli-
ticians, to whom I allude, deny that any such benefit arises
to either party. Were their reasonings correct, it would
follow as a necessary consequence, that Canada is, in this
respect, of no advantage to Great Britain, and would go far
to prove, what, indeed, seems by many to be believed, that
the sooner the connexion between them is dissolved the
better.
Dissenting as I do, from the opinions of these theorists,
it appeared to me, that the work I had undertaken required
me to state some of the reasons on which I grounded this
dissent, and that, without entering at length into any of
the important questions involved in the discussion, I should
be able at least to cast a shade of doubt over doctrines
asserted with great dogmatism, and acted on with unhesitating
confidence. In endeavoring, however, for this purpose, to-
arrange a series of arguments drawn from a modification
of principles that originally suggested themselves to me
when engaged in more enlarged inquiries, my work gradually
assumed a far more extended and systematic form, than I had
at first meditated ; and I became engaged in the present
attempt, to show that there exist great and radical errors in
AUTHOR'S PREFACE xlix
the whole system, sufficient to vitiate very many of the
conclusions drawn from it, and from the fallacies intro-
duced by which , the doctrines of free trade alone derive their
plausibility.
In the prosecution of the argument, I have almost entirely
confined myself to the consideration of the doctrines to
which I am opposed, as they are developed in the Wealth
of Nations. I could not have done otherwise, without
becoming involved in the discussion of contradictory and
conflicting opinions. Neither, as I conceive, is this limita-
tion of essential importance to the determination of the
points in debate. If Adam Smith be essentially wrong, none
of his followers can be right. The system established by
him stands, or falls, with him.
I am not ignorant of the dangers to which this attempt
subjects me. Whoever ventures to attack a system received
so generally, and supported by so great a weight of authority,
is exposed to various evils. They who have embraced its
principles are apt to slight and neglect, or, if that may not
be, to conceive it their business to overthrow the heterodox
doctrines. What of error they may contain is eagerly seized
on, what of truth, is overlooked. " Who," asks Mr. Locke,
" is there, hardy enough to contend with the reproach which
is ever prepared for him, who dares venture to dissent from
the received opinions of his country and party? And where
is the man to be found, that can patiently prepare himself
t. bear the names, that he is sure to meet with, who doth in
the least scruple any of the common opinions?" Though
many things are altered since the days of Locke, mankind
are but little changed. In his days, indeed, the prejudices
of the times ran towards opinions, which, acquiesed in by
many -n- ceding generations, were, therefore, conceived to
;i real plurality of judgments in their favor. Now, on
the contrary, to have been believed from of old, is deemed
t<> indicate defect, and that alone is admitted as of approved
igth, which has not been subjected to the test of time.
Tn tins, newrthrlrss. there is a perfect agreement, that men
appeal not so much to truth itself, as to prevalent opinion,
an i are disposed to treat whatever stands opposed to it, as
1 AUTHOR'S PREFACE
necessarily erroneous. It were, then, in vain for me, I ;mi
.aware, in reply to the charge of presumption in challenging
th. opinions to which the celebrated author of the Wealth
of Nations has given currency, to answer, that it is not so,
ami that, on the contrary, "he is the general challenger :"
that his disciples form, in reality, but a sect, one setting
itself in opposition to the belief of all preceding ages, and
in its rise and progress presenting nothing dissimilar to the
other numerous sects, which time, in its course, has seen
-appearing and disappearing : that, therefore, if we really
appeal to authority, its decision is against, not for, the
present political creed. Such arguments would certainly
fall on deaf ears. The authority, in which men acquiesce,
is that which is present, and to which they have been
accustomed to yield assent. Whatever is opposed to this,
and separated from it by distance of time or space, has no
influence on their judgments.
But, although, instead of assistance, I have to look for
opposition, from this quarter, I nevertheless believe, that I
have an auxiliary of great power on my side. In political
questions, before they see that they are wrong, it is common
for men to feel that they are so. The progress of recent
events seems to have excited a general sensation of this sort
over Great Britain.
It is natural that these circumstances should beget a sort
of feeling of doubt. That, without pretending to question
the general truth of the system established by Adam Smith,
many should yet ask themselves, is the path which he has
pointed out, truly that which always leads directly to the
wealth of nations? In this temper of the public mind, I am
inclined to hope that the application of new principles to a
reconsideration of the whole subject, may be conceived to be
an undertaking deserving, at least, of being examined, and
that the defects of the following pages may not be thought
sufficient to prevent what measure of truth they may contain,
from being perceived and appreciated.
MONTREAL, 1833.
AUTHOR'S PREFACE li
POSTSCRIPT.
In the preceding pages, the reader has an explanation of
original design of the work which I venture to place
before him ; but, in preparing it for publication in this
country, I have made some alterations in it, the nature of
which it is proper I should here state.
The doctrines which Adam Smith maintained with so
much ability, never took so deep hold in this country as in
land, and they have been more strongly opposed. There
i- hence, a very considerable difference between the state of
public sentiment in Great Britain and America, concerning
th< most interesting practical questions of political economy.
This is especially the case with regard to the policy of the
protective system. The practical bearings of that system
on the condition of things in this republic, have been dis-
cussed so often, and with so much ability, that probably few
new arguments or facts concerning it can be brought forward
ny one, least of all can they be expected from a foreigner.
Although, therefore, I look on the effects of the policy
pursued by the legislature of the United States, as affording
the best practical illustration hitherto existing of the correct-
ness of some of the principles I maintain, I have scarcely
11 referred to them for that purpose, but have contented
my>rlf with showing how the benefits resulting from the
operations of the legislature, in this and in other similar
s, are to be accounted for. I have thus omitted much
matter that would have appeared, had the work been
piihli-h -.1 in England, but which it seemed to me, would be at
I- i>t superfluous here. These omissions occur in the third
book, which is consequently much abridged.
To the second book I have made some additions, having
n fuller development to the principles thnv .-xplain.-.!,
and traced their connexion with events at greater length,
ih an is necessary for the mere purpose of exposing the
fal heirs of the theoretical views, the refutation of which
Hi AUTHOR'S PREFACE
was originally my sole design. As the additions were made
in the progress of the work through the press, in one or two
instances I have been led to refer to subjects to be afterwards
treated of, which I found it impossible to comprise within
such limits as would admit of their insertion. These
omissions, however, do not occasion any break in the chain
of reasoning. There are, also, some topics, which though
I have introduced, I have but partially discussed, and merely
so far as may serve to show some of their connexions with
principles expounded. The most important of these is the
subject of banking.
BOSTON, 1834.
INTRODUCTION.
OF all the circumstances connected with the "Inquiry into the
Wealth of Nations," there is no one more remarkable than the
fact, that its celebrated author leaves us in doubt what he him-
self understands by that " wealth," the nature and causes of
which it is the object of his inquiry to investigate. His
followers have scarce been more fortunate. They have sought,
by definitions, to remedy the acknowledged defect, but have
been unable to agree in the terms of them. The school is
thus split into many little sects at variance with each other
regarding the very elements of the science. 1
It seems to me that this circumstance arises from, and very
clearly marks the existence of, a great and fundamental defect
in the principles of investigation on which Adam Smith and
the school he founded proceeded ; an uniform tendency to
In ill that up as an explanation of other things, which, in
reality, is the very thing itself to be explained.
It is the nature of wealth in the general, and the laws
regulating its increase and diminution, that can alone, as I
conceive, form the proper subject of philosophical investigation.
Tln-.se being determined, from them may be deduced the
manner in which particular societies, or particular individuals,
come to possess this or that amount of wealth. But, though
is the proper philosophical view of the subject, it is not
that under which it appears to common observers.
Before men begin to speculate, they are obliged to act.
are therefore first !!, in regard to any system witli
'[Rae here refers to a quotation from Lauderdale which ia reproduced
as " Note A " in the Appendix.]
2 INTRODUCTION
which they have to do, to fix their attention altogether on the
phenomena exhibited by it, without attempting to reach the
causes of those phenomena. It is usually long after the events
themselves have thus been observed and noted, that to trace
their causes becomes the employment of philosophers. The
mere sailor, for example, regards the winds simply as con-
nected with the different seasons, the various regions of the
globe, and the particular aspect of the heavens at the time.
This makes up the sum of his knowledge concerning them,
which, notwithstanding, may be very extensive and of great
practical utility. It is not his object to inquire into the
general causes producing all these phenomena, nor into the
laws regulating the general system of things, of which they
make a part, and so of ascertaining the true nature of the
different winds, the real manner of their existence, and the
measure of their force and duration. He believes that while
that system endures as it is, his knowledge will serve to
direct his practice, and this is all about which he concerns
himself. An extensive practical knowledge of this sort here
long preceded a philosophical knowledge of the subject. It
has been the business of the latter, as it has at last had place,
to ascertain the nature of wind itself, and the causes producing
all the different winds, and acting on them For this purpose
the philosopher has turned himself to the investigation of
whatever, in the general system of things, is connected with
that concerning which he inquires; to the constitution and
properties of the atmosphere ; the effects of changes of tem-
perature on aeriform fluids; the motions induced by these,
by the rotatory movement of the globe, and by other circum-
stances. From them he deduces the true theory of wind, and
shows that it is in accordance with the observations and rules of
him, who has been accustomed to view the subject in its practi-
cal bearings alone, and tends to elucidate and simplify them.
In a somewhat similar manner wealth was felt and noted in
its effects long before, as a circumstance largely affecting
societies, it was proposed philosophically to investigate its
nature and causes. To mark those effects, " riches " and a
series of other terms of the sort, were invented. Like all
every-day words and phrases they apply to the obvious aspects
INTRODUCTION 3
of particular facts and occurrences, and have no necessary
reference to the causes of those facts and occurrences. All
such speculations are foreign to mere practice, and never even
enter into the explanations and reasonings of the merely
practical man. However complicated the social system of
which any person engaged in the acquisition of wealth makes
a part, he has no difficulty in tracing the manner in which
that portion of it which he possesses has been acquired, nor in
explaining how it forms to him a certain amount of what he
calls capital. But in giving this explanation, it will be ob-
served that for the elements of his statements, he has always
recourse to the existence and continuance of certain circum-
stances and regular trains of events in the general system of
human society. What the things may be which give origin
and regular succession to these events is a speculation lying
out of his road, and on which he probably never enters.
Though, therefore, he can easily tell how he got that which
constitutes his wealth, and how to him it comes to be wealth,
he will yet probably confess that he is unable to say what
constitutes wealth in general, from whence it is derived, or
what are the exact laws regulating its increase or diminution.
These are questions of which the solution is very clearly shown
to be of great difficulty from the mass of discordant opinions
concerning them. 1
Adam Smith, in this and in other instances, by transferring
without hesitation, terms made use of to mark and explain the
affairs of common life, to denote the great phenomena which
the affairs of societies present, falls, as it seems to me, into
t\vn errors. In the first place, he in a great measure misses
that which is the real object at which his inquiry aims, the
-tigation of the true nature and causes of national wealth,
and shows, by holding out sometimes one notion of it and
sometimes another, according to the different lights in which
at different times the subject presents itself to him, that he
has no very definite ideas concerning it. In the second place,
laturally, and in very many instances, falls into the error
of taking, what in truth are the results of general laws
governing the course of this class of events for the laws them-
1 [See Note B " of the Appendix.]
4 INTRODUCTION
selves, and so of elevating effects into causes. His procedure
is not very dissimilar to what that of a philosopher would have
been, who, desiring to investigate the nature of wind, should
have assumed it as already known, not as an event, but as a
thing, and should have conceived it his business merely to con-
nect and arrange the various phenomena in relation to it,
with which practice had previously made mankind familiar.
Such a system could not have failed to have embodied great
radical defects, for it would have been built on principles
fundamentally erroneous.
His followers, by the use they make of definitions, appear
to me rather to have introduced new evils, than to have
applied a remedy to those already existing. Definitions give
us the mastery of words, not of things, 1 and therefore by taking
them as they have done, for principles of investigation, not
auxiliaries to it, their labors have generally issued in adducing
arguments instead of collecting and arranging facts, the former
being the proper fruit of an attention to words, the latter of
an inquiry into the nature of things.
I conceive that the fallacies of the particular doctrines I
oppose, may be most effectually exposed by tracing out the
true nature of that wealth, the manner of the augmentation
and diminution of which forms the subject of controversy ;
that we can neither assume this as a thing already known,
nor hope, by any mere intellectual effort, to comprehend it in
an ingenious definition ; that when it is really discovered, it
must be, as has happened in other things, that disputes
concerning its manner of existence, its increase and decrease,
will terminate, or, instead of hinging on plausible arguments,
may be settled by a reference to ascertainable facts. It is,
therefore, such an investigation, that I propose partially to
attempt ; and it is chiefly on the results of it, that I mean
1 A sailor would never think it necessary to explain what wind is. Were he
asked to do so, it is very probable he would answer " that which blows," and
this would be a correct enough marking out of the meaning attached to the
word. Mr. Say, in like manner, defines value as what a thing is worth.
*' Valeur des choses. C'est ce qu'une chose vaut." Riches, again, he defines
an amount of values. " Richesse, c'est la somme des valeurs." Capital,
an accumulation of values. Vide Epitome des principes fondamentaux de
2'economie politique.
INTRODUCTION 5
to rest my demonstration of the reality of those errors, the
conviction of the existence of which has been my motive for
engaging in the present undertaking.
Dugald Stewart prefaces the observations he makes on
Adam Smith's great work, with the following remarks: "An
historical review of the different forms under which human
affairs have appeared in different ages and nations, naturally
suggests the question, whether the experience of former times
may not now furnish some general principles to enlighten and
direct the policy of future legislators ? The discussion, how-
ever, to which this question leads, is of singular difficulty ;
as it requires an accurate analysis of by far the most com-
plicated class of phenomena that can possibly engage our
attention, those which result from the intricate and often
the imperceptible mechanism of political society ; a subject of
observation which seems, at first view, so little commensurate
to our faculties, that it has been generally regarded with
the same passive emotions of wonder and submission with
which, in the material world, we survey the effects produced
by the mysterious and uncontrollable operation of physical
causes." l The science of Political Economy he considers as a
part of this great subject.
If the accuracy of these observations be admitted, as I
think it must, the inquiries in which Political Economy
engages, lead to the investigation of the general principles
of human action, and it is to be considered but as a branch of
a larger science, having for its object, to trace the laws to
h man is subject as a moral and intellectual animal, acted
on by the system of things existing in the world, and acting
in turn on them; to explain from those laws the events which
past history, as far as known, exhibits; and to collect
the means of ascertaining what will be the future course
While to be able clearly to unfold the laws regulating
events with which it deals would imply the capacity
of tracing those regulating the whole system of phenomena
of which man is the centre, just as to explain with accuracy
the laws regulating the motions of one of the heavenly bodies,
*Lifc of Smith.
6 INTRODUCTION
implies the knowledge of principles capable of disclosing the
prescribed movements of them all.
I have already observed, that the subject first met me when
engaged in the investigation of some principles which I con-
ceived might in time assume a form capable of a general
application of the sort. To attempt here an extensive
generalization of this kind would be out of place, and is
impracticable, because of necessity only a small portion of
the phenomena are before us. Political Economy itself makes
but a part of the subject to which such generalizations belong,
and it is only one division of political economy of which
we are to treat. It has usually been discussed under the
heads of stock, wages of labor, and rent, and it is to the first
of these that our investigations are to be altogether confined.
It is only therefore in such parts of the subject as present
a sufficient mass of phenomena, to warrant the procedure, that
I shall attempt to introduce any very general principles. In
other cases I will confine myself to the simple statement of
facts admitted by all parties.
CHAPTER I.
OF ECONOMIC AMBITION AND THE MEANS ESSENTIAL
TO ITS REALIZATION.
CICERO gives the following summary of the principles exciting
m;in to action, and of the mode in which they lead him to
act: 'inter hominem et beluam hoc maxime interest,
quod haec tan turn, quantum sensu movetur, ad id solum,
i adest, quodque praesens est, se accommodat, paullulum
admodum sentiens praeteritum, aut futurum. Homo autem,
quod rationis est particeps, per quam consequentia cernit,
causas rerum videt, earumque progressus, et quasi anteces-
siones non ignorat, similitudines comparat, et rebus praesentibus
ad jungit atque annectit futuras : facile totius vitae cursum
videt, ad eamque degendam praeparet res necessarias. Eademque
natura vi rationis hominem conciliat homini et ad orationis,
et ad vita; societatem : ingeneratque in primis praecipuum
quendam amorem in eos, qui procreati sunt : impellitque ut
hominum coetus, et celebrationes, esse, et a se obiri velit : ob
easque causas studeat parare ea, quae suppeditent et ad cultum,
et ad vie turn : nee sibi soli, sed conjugi, liberis, ceterisque, quos
habeat, tuerique debeat."
" The chief distinction between man and the inferior animals
ists in this. They are moved only by the immediate im-
pressions of sense, and, as its impulses prompt, seek to gratify
i from the objects before them, scarce regarding the fin
or endeavoring from the experience of the past to pr<>
against what is to come. Man again, as he is endowed with
reason, by which he is able to connect effects with their causes,
8 OF ECONOMIC AMBITION
to perceive the principles which guide the progress of affairs,
and to join together the present and the future, easily discerns
the course of his whole life and prepares whatever may be
necessary for passing it in comfort. The same intellectual
powers also, which nature has bestowed on him, give scope to
his affections, and join him to his fellows by the ties that
spring from language and the connexions of social life. It
is from this source that we must trace his peculiar provident
love for his offspring, his concern for the interests of society,
and his desire to mingle in its business and pleasures.
" From these principles it is that man is incited and enabled
to provide beforehand whatever may be requisite both for
utility and ornament, not only to himself but to his wife, his
children, and all others who may be dear to him, or whom it
may be his duty to protect."
It is unquestionably the capacity for perceiving, and retain-
ing in his mind, the course of events and the connexion of one
with another, that leads man to perceive what advancing
futurity is to bring forth, and enables him to provide for its
wants. This provident forethought distinguishes him from the
inferior animals, and the degree in which he possesses it marks
his rank in the scale of civilization. 1
When he has gained any knowledge of the nature of things
[the operations of nature] around him, he finds many that
satisfy more or less perfectly his present wants. He knows,
also, that if he live to see the future he will then have similar
wants and desires. Some of the occurrences satisfying his
desires and wants exist abundantly ; others, sparingly or im-
perfectly. If he regard the future, he must wish that those
occurrences of which he now can only obtain enough to
satisfy his wants sparingly and imperfectly, should exist then,
so as that he might be able to obtain them to satisfy those
wants abundantly and perfectly.
His faculties of observation and reason generally give him
! [In contrast to the animals " man has thoughts far-reaching, he has con-
certed and long-extended plans." (Fragment of Rae's MS.) The animals,
indeed (notably ants, bees, and the like), exhibit a certain degree of "provi-
dent forethought ; " but it is non -progressive. Man is characterized specifically
by ever-expanding wants, and hence by ever-expanding undertakings to
satisfy them.]
OF ECONOMIC AMBITION 9
the power of effecting this. For the objects affording satis-
faction of his desire are mere arrangements of matter.
His faculties of observation show him their nature, and the
manner in which the train of events going on amongst
them succeed each other. He perceives that the occurrences
which are the means of satisfaction of his present wants,
or which were of those he felt a little time since, and
which will probably be of those he will feel in future, are
either the immediate result of the nature and form of some
things around him, or of the trains of events which, in
consequence of that form and nature, are taking place among
them. He cannot alter the nature of things, but in many
cases, he is able to change their form, that is, the particular
.iigement of the matter of which they are formed ; and
his reason instructs him, that if by doing this, he can so
alter the trains of events proceeding from them or depending
on them, that they may either form, or cause to be formed, or
put in his possession, objects fitted to supply more perfectly or
abundantly what probably will be his future wants, than
any objects that would otherwise exist, he then is able to
provide for the future. This in many cases he can do, and
thus he acts.
A North American Indian in his canoe comes to an island
in some lake or river, and finds near it a good station for
fishing. He therefore determines to remain there for the
fishing season. Towards evening he paddles his canoe to
shore, lands, kindles a fire near a large tree, wraps his
blanket about him, places his feet to the fire, his head to
the trunk of the tree, and thus prepares for repose. In so
doing, with the exception of kindling the fire, he takes
advantage simply of his knowledge of the nature of the
things around him, and seeks from them the best supply
they can give him of what he wants, that is, of shelter
from wind and weather.
It rains and blows during the night, the tree shelters
him somewhat, but still he gets cold and wet. In the morn-
ing he spends some hours providing a better shelter against
inclemency of any such night in future. Of branches and
he makes something like one half of the roof of a house,
10 OF ECONOMIC AMBITION
only much smaller, the open side being towards the south and
the fire, the sloping side towards the north from whence comes
cold and rain. Thus, though he cannot prevent the wind from
blowing, or the rain from falling, his knowledge of the manner
in which the trains of events forming these phenomena succeed
each other, or if you will, his knowledge of the laws which
regulate their motions, instruct him so to direct them, that
the one shall not blow, or the other fall, on a particular spot,
which he knows he may at some future time wish to remain
calm and dry. This time may be distant, for it may not rain
or blow so as to inconvenience him for a week or two, never-
theless to provide against it he gives a good many hours
present labor.
Next evening, before going to repose, he finds the turf damp
from the rain of the former night. He looks for an elm tree,
cuts off a piece of its strong thick bark large enough for him
to sleep on, covers it with the soft branches and leaves of the
white pine, and forms a dry and soft bed for himself. Thus
his knowledge of the materials around him enables him to
form what he wants, a dry and soft place of repose.
In this island he discovers a small wild plumb tree, he
relishes the fruit, but there is little of it. Eesolving to return
in succeeding seasons he lops the branches of the surrounding
trees to give this room to spread, and expects thus to find next
year a more abundant crop. 1 Here his knowledge of the
manner in which trees and fruit grow and thrive, or his
knowledge of the order of the trains of events which termi-
nate in the full development of the tree and abundance of its
fruit, enables him so to work on the matters around him, as to
occasion them to produce more abundantly next season, than
they have this, what then he will desire.
He thinks not of providing for any future want the means
to supply which, will, without this, exist in sufficient abun-
dance. Thus water, in such a situation, he knows he will
always be surrounded with. Were the same Indian encamped
in the woods, by a very scanty spring, he would dam it up,
1 This is a possible supposition, but it is more probable he would neglect it,
perhaps cut it down for the sake of reaching more easily the fruit it carried.
OF ECONOMIC AMBITION 11
and cover it with branches so as to keep cool a quantity
of water for his future occasions.
The proceedings of man are everywhere similar. He has
always an end in view, he employs means to effect this end,
and there is a manner through which he effects it. The end is
a supply for future wants; the means, the bringing about
of such events as may serve to supply them; the manner,
a knowledge of the qualities with which nature has endowed
the materials within his reach, of the series of events in conse-
quence arising among them, and an application of this know-
ledge to produce, through his corporeal powers, such an
arrangement of these materials, as may so change the issues of
events that would otherwise have place, as to bring about
those which he desires. It is true, that, in most instances,
men simply copy the proceedings of others, and think not
of the principles on which they conduct their operations,
nor of the observations from which these must originally
have been deduced. But, though the knowledge thus acquired
from this storing of observations, and deduction of principles
from them, is not the mode in which individual men operate,
it is the mode in which the operations they carry on must
have been first brought into practice, and on which they
are all founded.
We may easily satisfy ourselves of this, by turning our
attention to the manner in which any of the articles we
use for the supply of our wants has been formed. Bread
may be an example. A farmer, some two years ago, made
<e of a particular field for the cultivation of wheat.
he been asked why he did so, he could have stated
the different circumstances in the soil, and the previous
> that it had carried, which had thus determined him.
I-} ploughing and harrowing it a sufficient number of times,
horoughly broke, and pulverized the land. This he did,
because he knew, from observations he or others had made,
in this state the seed he intended to deposit there would
\vhcn it came to germinate, more easily spread its roots around
haw nourishment from among the particles of earth
t which it would grow. He allowed a considerable time
ipse between the several operations, that the weeds might
12 OF ECONOMIC AMBITION
have time to spring up and be destroyed. Thus he knew they
would be prevented from afterwards injuring the growth of
the crop. He also spread over the field, and covered in, a
quantity of manure, because experience had taught that
this substance gives vigor to vegetation. He then sowed the
seed, in the mode, and quantity, and at the time, which obser-
vation had instructed him was the best, covered it with a
harrow, and waited the harvest. When he perceived the
grain sufficiently ripe, he cut it down with an iron hook
having a form and edge which experience had ascertained
to be best adapted for this purpose, made it into bundles,
exposed them to the sun and air so that they might be dried,
when this was effected, conveyed them to his barn and stored
them there. Having lain there some time, the grain was
separated from the straw by the process of threshing, it
was then carried to the granary, where, having been kept
for a longer or shorter period, it was thence taken to the
mill, and, by a very ingenious process, reduced to small
particles, and then separated by another process into three
parts, of which the finest part, the interior of the grain called
flour, being packed in sacks or barrels, was preserved for use.
A certain portion of this, mixed with a particular ferment,
wrought with the hand and exposed to the action of fire,
became bread.
It is very evident, that all the steps of these various pro-
cesses depend on a knowledge of the course of natural events,
and are regulated by that knowledge. A long series of
observations of this sort, and of reasonings deduced from
them, could alone have enabled the farmer to prepare the
ground properly for the seed, or, after the grain had come
to maturity, to preserve it, to separate it from the straw,
and fit it for being converted into flour. The observations
on the trains of events connected with the production of this
grain that have been committed to writing, fill many large
volumes, and besides these, every farmer is obliged to have
a great store of his own, to guide him in his proceedings.
Thus, in the single process of cutting down and storing up
this crop, his success in securing it uninjured depends on
observing and noting well a great variety of particulars.
OF ECONOMIC AMBITION 13
He observes the plant carefully, and discovers, from the
appearance of every part, from the dryness of the stem, the
drooping of the ears, the fulness of the grain, if it be in a
proper state to cut down. If he make any error in this, he
will either have unripe, and therefore shrivelled and light
grain, or he will lose great part of it by its being shaken off
the stem in harvesting it. Next, before he determine on
commencing the operation, he regards the aspect of the sky,
watches the rising and setting sun, notes the color of the
air, the appearance of the clouds, the direction of the wind,
the dew on the grass, and perhaps has recourse to that delicate
instrument, the fruit of so many ingenious observations, the
barometer. By means of all these, he is enabled to draw
tolerably correct conclusions, in regard to the probable state
of the weather for some succeeding days. This knowledge
influences greatly his farther operations ; for experience has
taught him that the injury which severe rains, coming on the
grain when newly reaped, would occasion, is very great. If,
therefore, the weather promise to be fine, he will commence
cutting it down a few days sooner than he otherwise would ;
if rain threaten he will wait a few days longer. When he
has it reaped he gets it tied into bundles, which are put up
in small parcels, and so disposed, that the wind may penetrate
through them, and the rain be as much thrown off from
them as possible, and thus the plant may have the best
chance of being securely and quickly dried.
This drying is watched with care, and, when it is judged to
be sufficiently advanced, the crop is transported to the barn,
there to wait till the proper period of threshing it out arrives.
All these processes are, it is evident, governed by rules drawn
trm assiduous and long continued observation, and their
success depends on its extent and accuracy.
Were we to examine the manner in which all the articles
we provide for the supply of future wants are produced,
we slmuM find that they depend, in this way, on observations
on the course of events, and on reasonings founded on these
observations. Were proof wanting of this, we might turn at
hazard to any complete treatise on any art. On examining
(3 would invariably find it to contain a set of observations,
14 OF ECONOMIC AMBITION
the result of experience, and of reasonings, and rules, drawn
t'lum these observations.
Since then man provides a supply for his future wants by
his reason directing his industry, through means of his know-
ledge of the course of events, to effect such changes in the
form or arrangement of the parts of material objects, that
these may produce articles fitted to afford this supply, it
were desirable to have some common name to denote all the
changes, which, for this purpose, he so makes. On this
account I propose to give the denomination of instruments
to all those changes that, for this purpose are made in the
form or arrangement of the parts of material objects. 1
The term instrument is, in general, properly enough em-
ployed, to denote any means for the attainment of some end.
In common use, however, and as applied to material things,
it seems to be restricted to such arrangements of matter as
owe their chief efficacy to what are called the mechanic
powers. Thus a lever or a wedge is an instrument, the
manner in which each of them operate being chiefly explained
on mathematical principles. A spade, which is a combination
of the two, is also an instrument. The tools which carpenters
use are instruments. We speak in the same way of in-
struments of husbandry, meaning by the phrase the articles
used in that art, whose properties may be explained on
mechanical principles.
In all these cases, however, other principles than those which
are merely mathematical must enter into our calculations. In
the simplest lever we have not only the properties of a mathe-
matical line to consider, but also, the weight and strength of
the substance used, and these make the difficulty in the proper
application of such an instrument, A wedge operates in many
ways, besides those that may be considered to be derived
simply from mathematical principles ; as for instance in the
percussion, which it receives and communicates, and through
1 [0ur author does not express himself well here. Rae's idea is that he
proposes to give the denomination of instrumental production to all those
changes in materials which man makes in the pursuit of his economic ends.
The instruments themselves are not the "changes," but the immediate result
of them.]
OF ECONOMIC AMBITION 15
means of which, if skilfully applied, the most solid rocks may
be rent. The farther we recede from such simple instruments,
the more extensive do we find the action of properties, which
could only be ascertained by a long series of observations. It
would be impossible, for instance, to give any a priori rules
for the construction of that most useful instrument the plough.
It is, no doubt, a wedge, but the particular form giving the
test efficacy to it, is a point of very difficult determination,
not yet, perhaps, fully ascertained. It is accurate observation
that has guided the construction of it, to its present efficiency,
and which may be expected to render it still more perfect.
Were we to enter into an examination of more complicated
machines or instruments, such as the steam engine, or the
cotton mill, the observation would apply with double force,
these generally deriving their efficiency from principles, that
have been the result of very extensive and accurate investiga-
tions of many series of events. In thus using the term, there-
fore, we shall rather deviate somewhat from common usage,
than be opposed to it ; and in doing so, our reasonings will only
be subject to an inconvenience, to which all general reasonings
must be subject, and which may be the more readily excused,
as this use of the term may be defended from its derivation,
its occasional acceptation, and the authority of authors of
respectability. 1
In general then, all those changes which man makes, in the
iViriii or arrangements of the parts of material objects, for the
1 Outilft ou instrument de metier. Jamais mot n'a re^u une acception plus
ae que celle que je voudrais donner ici au terme d'outils, car je desirerais
y comprendre depuis la fronde dont ae sert le chasseur sauvage jusqu'a la
machine la plus vaste, jusqu'au mecanisme le plus complique, jusqu'aux fitrea
M memea qui facilitent le travail de 1'homme. L'enclume du forgeron et
tier pour faire des has, lea aiguilles de la lingere et lea pompes a feu, les
navirea et les betes de somme et de trait ; en un mot, tout produit materiel de
la nature et du travail, tout objet vivant ou inanitm- que 1'homme emploie
pour s 'aider duns son travail industrial, voilaceque j'appelleoutila, instrumens
1 ier. Ce mot, dans son sens le plus etendu, n'exclut que lea conatruc-
* Store h, Vol. I. p. 231.
* " Pourquoi lea exclure? Les constructions sont des p rod u its de I'industrie
me consacr&i a la reproduction ; partant ce sont des outils. In
me eat un out il <|ui ne differe des autrea qu'en ce qu'il n'est point
pnxluit <lt 1 Industrie, maia un don de la nature." J.-B. Say.
16 OF ECONOMIC AMBITION
purpose of supplying his future wants, and which derive their
power of doing this from his knowledge of the course of events,
and the changes which his labor, guided by his reason, is hence
enabled to make in the issue of these events, may be termed
instruments. 1
In this sense a field [fitted for use] is an instrument. The
changes effected in the matters of which it, [considered as mere
land,] is composed, for the purpose of rendering it an instru-
ment, are the levelling and if necessary making the surface
dry by means of ditches and drains, the removing stones
from it, the mixing and pulverizing the soil by the plough, the
harrow, and the roller, and the incorporating with it various
matters termed manures, which render it more fit for the
support of vegetable life. The future wants, towards the
supply of which it is an instrument, are food and clothing.
The power which has made it an instrument, is the agri-
culturist's labor, directed by his knowledge of the nature of
plants and soils. The change made in the consequent issue of
events, is the abundant growth of species of plants different
from those originally produced by it, and conducing to the
supply of food and clothing ; or, more generally, the conversion
of various vegetable matters of the soil, and gaseous matters in
the air, into the substance of particular plants. The wheat
grown on this field is an instrument. The changes effected in
it, are its having been separated from the straw by the process
of threshing, and its having been made sufficiently dry by
keeping and exposure to air, to be fit to manufacture into
Hour. The want it tends to supply is nourishment, by afford-
ing bran for the support of some of the inferior animals, as
hogs or cattle, afterwards to be slaughtered, and flour for the
use of man. The power is also the art and industry of the
agriculturist. The change in the issue of events consists in
the grain being ready for the manufacture of flour, instead of
having been left to rot on the ground, to be consumed by
vermin, or destroyed by the access of damp or by the want of
air. Flour also is an instrument. The changes that have
been effected in it are its having been separated from the
wheat, and reduced to a fine powdery matter. The want it
1 [More properly, may be termed the formation and use of instruments.]
OF ECONOMIC AMBITION 17
tends to supply is food by the bread produced from it. The
power, which has operated on it, is the art and industry of the
miller. The change in the issue of events thereby produced is
the existence of flour and bran, instead of wheat. Bread, until
such time as it is in process of consumption, is an instrument.
The change which it has undergone is that induced by the pro-
cesses of kneading, fermenting, and baking. The want it
supplies is food. The power which has operated on it is the
art and industry of the baker. The change on the issue of
events thereby produced is the existence of bread instead of
door.
Though it may seem strange to rank all these in one class,
that of instruments, nevertheless, the doing so is rather un-
usual than improper. They are all means towards the attain-
ment of an end, and, for the attainment of this end, that is,
the production of bread, do they alone exist. The blade as it
springs from the soil, and the [prepared] soil on which it grows,
i together an instrument for this end ; the plant when it
has extracted all the nourishment from the soil which that can
give, and is ripe on the ground, is an instrument ; when it is
i ml put up sheltered from the weather, it is still an in-
strument; so is the grain when separated from it; so it is
when ground in the mill ; so it is when in loaves, put apart
for consumption, until the moment arrives when it is consumed.
It is impossible, if we call it at first an instrument, to point
nut when it ceases to be so, until the moment when it is
actually consuming.
All tools and machines are instruments. Thus a carpenter's
saw is an instrument. The changes effected in the matters of
which it is composed, for the purpose of rendering it an
ument, are, there having been given a fit form and temper
t the steel plate of which it is made, and a handle having
Wn adjusted to it. The wants which it tends to supply are
multifarious, according to the uses to which it is put. The
power that renders it an instrument is the art and industry of
him who makes, and of him who uses it. The changes effected
in the issue of vents l>y its fabrication and use, are the divid-
nt<> regular parts suited to different purposes, a great
number of pieces of timber.
18 OF ECONOMIC AMBITION
In a similar manner it might be shown, that houses, ships,
cattle, gardens, household furniture, manufactories, manufactured
goods, and stores of all sorts are in this sense, instruments.
But it is, I apprehend, unnecessary further to multiply in-
stances ; every thing that man, for the purpose of gaining an
end, brings to exist, or alters in its form, its position, or in the
arrangement of its parts, is an instrument.
As man is thus enabled to provide for the wants of futurity,
by his knowledge of the course of events, it naturally follows,
that in any particular situation, his power to provide for them,
is measured by the extent and accuracy of his knowledge. If
that knowledge be diminished, his power will be diminished.
Thus a deficiency of skill in the art of agriculture, or of
baking, will alike occasion a diminution of the quantity of
food to be got from a field applied to the cultivation of wheat.
Neither can his power be increased, but by an increase of his
knowledge. It is impossible to point out any improvement in
any art, which does not depend on some new observations, or
reasonings, on the course of events connected with that art.
The generally admitted axiom, that knowledge is power,
may not be strictly true. Many facts have been observed
which have not yet been applied to any useful purpose, though
it is probable they will, in time, be so applied. But, though it
may not be strictly true, that all knowledge immediately gives
power, it is so, that all power springs from knowledge, and is
measured by its extent and accuracy. Neither can it be dis-
puted, that it operates by enabling man's - reasoning faculties,
so to direct his industry, as to induce certain changes in the
form and arrangement of the parts of material objects con-
verting them into instruments. " Ad opera nil aliud potest
homo, quarn ut corpora naturalia admoveat et amoveat;
reliqua natura intus transigit."
[Rae's language in the last few pages is not wholly consistent with his
general teaching. The " want " which bread supplies is not properly speaking
" food " (that is really only another name for bread), but the pleasure of eating
and the sense of being nourished. These last are the artifically produced
" events" which are the final goal of the long series of adaptations of means
to ends. Not until bread has been eaten does it cease to be a part of that
great and complicated mass of apparatus which Rae calls instruments, and
which are usually known as economic goods.]
CHAPTER II.
OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES COMMON TO ALL INSTRUMENTS,
AND OF THOSE PROPER TO SOME.
ALL instruments agree in the following three particulars;
1. They are all either directly formed by human labor, or
indirectly through the aid of other instruments themselves
formed by human labor.
Sometimes, though rarely, instruments are constructed by
labor alone. Thus occasionally rough stone fences are put up,
by the hand alone, without the intervention of even a single
tool. But, in most instances, the aid of other instruments is
employed. It is seldom, that even the most common laborer
is not assisted in his operations by some implement or another.
But, whatever instrument or instruments may have cooperated
with labor in the formation of any other instrument, they
themselves have been either altogether, or in part, formed by
labor ; and, by retracing the course of things farther and
farther back, we inevitably come to the conclusion, that labor
was, in this sense, " the first price, the original purchase money
thai was paid for all things," and thus that, directly or in-
lin-ctly, it is to be looked on as the agent that gives form to
every instrument. 1
1 [Rae is here dealing with a restricted aspect of the larger problem. He is
t ly aware, as the context indicates and as he shows more fully elsewhere
[> universal cost of getting wants supplied is labor (mental and physical)
together with waiting and the running of risk, three elements which are
present in every stage of the total process of production, in the formation of
ments as well as in the utilization of them. But here, where he deals
20 GENERAL PROPERTIES OF INSTRUMENTS
For the sake of simplifying the succeeding speculations, as
much as may be, labor will be considered as the agent em-
ployed in the formation of all instruments. When the co-
operation of other instruments is implied in the means by
which any particular instrument is constructed, the degree in
which they cooperate is understood to be measured by the
quantity of labor for which their cooperation is, or might be,
procured ; and, in this sense, that cooperation is spoken of as
an equivalent to labor. The rules, according to which the one
thus measures the other, will be discussed subsequently.
2. All instruments bring to pass, or tend, or help, to bring
to pass events supplying some of the wants of man, and are
then exhausted.
Some instruments once formed, without the further inter-
vention either of labor or of other instruments, produce events
which directly supply our wants. Thus a peach tree yields its
fruit to our hand. The operation of others only tends to the
production of events supplying our wants. The growth of a
crop of wheat is only a step towards fche production of bread.
Others require the help of either labor, or some other instru-
ment. A row boat is useless without the labor of the man
who plies the oar ; a carriage, without the cooperation of the
horses who draw it. All instruments, however, either produce,
or contribute to the production, of events supplying some of
our wants. Their power to produce such events, or the
amount of them that they do produce, may be termed their
capacity}-
It is necessary to have some common measure for the
only with the formation of instruments, for the sake of convenience, he leaves
waiting and risk-taking out of account. He assumes for the purpose of getting
the basis for a certain method of comparison of instruments in general, that
instruments are all formed at one moment of time and that the technical and
mercantile outcome of their formation is certain.]
1 [The technical expression ' ' capacity " of instruments is used by Rae here
and elsewhere ambiguously. There is a decided difference between the
"power to produce" or to further the production, of certain desirable events,
that is, the initial capacity or yielding-power or productivity of a thing ; and
the whole "amount" of such events actually yielded during the life of an
instrument, that is, its total output, its total capacity. Sometimes Rae means
one, sometimes the other ; but as a rule the latter. See Chapter V.]
GENERAL PROPERTIES OF INSTRUMENTS 21
purpose of comparing the capacity of instruments or the
returns that are made by them, with the labor or its equiva-
lents that went to form them. For this purpose, also, labor
will be adopted, and the events brought to pass by any instru-
ment will lie estimated by the amount of labor to which they
are esteemed equivalent by the owner of the instrument. As
we proceed, it will appear, that this use of the term has no
other effect than that of giving distinctness to our nomen-
clature. Besides, it often really happens, that the returns
made by instruments directly compare with labor, because they
directly save labor. For instance, wooden or metal pipes are
occasionally used to conduct water from a spring to some
(I welling- house. Were they not there, the water would have
to be carried within the dwelling by some of the domestics,
and therefore the instrument formed by the pipes may be said
indifferently, either to supply a certain amount of water, or
save a certain portion of labor.
With one considerable exception, afterwards to be noted, all
instruments at length bring to pass, or aid in bringing to pass,
all the events which they can bring, or can help to bring to
pass. I shall use the term exhaustion, to denote this passage
of things from the class of instruments, into things which are
n<>t instruments. When an instrument is said to be exhausted,
it is meant that the matters of which it was composed have
passed out of the class of instruments into that of materials.
Sometimes they pass from the one class to the other
suddenly. Thus, articles used for food and fuel, bring to
pass all the events for which they were formed, very shortly.
The appetite of hunger is gratified, and heat is communicated
to the frame, in a few minutes, and the faggot and the bread,
having yielded all the nourishment and heat stored up in
thci 11, then cease to be instruments. Gunpowder brinu r >
certain events to an issue instantaneously. The bullet is
uirged, and the rock split, in an instant. This sudden
complete exhaustion of the capacity of instruments is
what is usually termed consumption. Sometimes the matters
; uments are formed pass from the class of instru-
ments to that of materials by degrees. Thus tools and arti< !<-
<>t wearing apparel are in use for a long time before they cease
22 GENERAL PROPERTIES OF INSTRUMENTS
to be instruments. A saw may be in employment for years ;
a hat defends the head for months. When the capacity of
instruments is thus gradually exhausted, it is usually said that
they are worn out, and this sort of exhaustion is termed wear.
Sometimes the capacity of instruments is accidentally done
away with, and they consequently pass out of the class of
instruments, without being exhausted. Thus a house may be
burned, cloth may be eaten by vermin. They are then said
to be destroyed. A partial degree of this is damage. In
calculating the capacity of instruments, it is necessary to
reckon the risk they run of destruction or damage. In any
estimation of the capacity, for instance, of a crop of wheat,
we have to make as accurate an allowance as may be, for the
risk of its destruction or damage, by the inclemency of the
weather or other accidents, before the harvesting of it be
accomplished. 1
3. Between the formation and exhaustion of instruments a
space of time intervenes. This necessarily happens because
all events take place in time. Sometimes that space extends
to years, sometimes to months, occasionally to shorter periods,
but it always exists.
The circumstances we have hitherto assumed as common to
all instruments, and the events they generate, will, I believe,
on examination, be found actually to be so. There is one
circumstance, however, which it is necessary to assume as
common to them all, and which in reality is not altogether so.
In comparing the capacity of two or more instruments, which
supply, or tend to supply, wants of the same sort, we may
very often measure them by the relative physical effects,
resulting from the action of the events brought to pass by
1 [It is also necessary, especially in the case of machinery, to take into
account the risk of an instrument being superseded through new inventions.
In every progressive industry great masses of instruments are constantly
being thrown on the junk heap long before they are worn out.
But this is taking the point of view of the individual rather than that of
society. The community gains, as regards the capacity of its instruments,
through a rapid advance of the arts ; although individuals (particularly those
with the least powers of adaptation) suffer pecuniary loss. Rae has in mind,
obviously, losses which nobody gains.]
GENERAL PROPERTIES OF INSTRUMENTS 23
them. Thus, if the consumption of one cord of fire wood, of
a particular sort, is capable of producing exactly double the
heat which the consumption of another cord of another sort
produces, a cord of the former, will have double the capacity
of a cord of the latter, and, if the one be equivalent to four,
the other will be equivalent to exactly two days labor. In
the same way, a log of timber from Norway, about to be
employed in the construction of a house, if of equal size,
strength, and durability, with another from Prussia, may, with
justice be considered as of equal capacity to it; and so of
many other instruments. We shall see afterwards, however,
that this mode of determining the capacity of similar instru-
ments, is in many cases incorrect, and that the instances are
very numerous, where the relative capacities of instruments of
the same sort, depend on other causes than their mere physical
properties. The assumption, therefore, that they may be so
determined, is to be considered as hypothetical, and to be
tolerated from the difficulty of otherwise treating the subject ;
in the same manner as the hypothetic existence of strictly
mathematical lines, and the absence of friction and of the
tance of the air, is excused, in reasonings concerning the
mechanical properties of matter. As in these reasonings, an
attempt will be made to ascertain the extent, and mode of
operation of those other causes ; and, having traced what seem
to be the great moving powers, and the laws governing them,
we shall endeavor to discover the circumstances which retard
>r derange their motions.
1 1 may be proper here to notice the acceptation, in which
ro other terms of frequent subsequent occurrence, are to be
ived. Some instruments are easily moved from place to
and, on this account, there are peculiar facilities, in
hanging them with others. This seems to be the character
istinguishing what are called goods, or commodities, from
ler instruments, and it is in this sense, that these terms
I, in the subsequent pages, be employed.
[It is not through inadvertence that several times daring this chapter Rae
of events which instruments "produce." His notion of production,
24 GENERAL PROPERTIES OF INSTRUMENTS
made abundantly clear elsewhere, excludes the part man plays, and has refer-
ence only to the part played by the instrument its functioning, its bringing
things to pass as the last link in the chain of causation. His formula for the
total process which we call production would be : man forms and directs
instruments, which last produce events which constitute satisfactions of want,
or, events leading toward satisfactions of want. It is desirable to make such
a distinction, but without running counter to accepted terminology. For the
part played by instruments, Rae himself, in this chapter and elsewhere,
incidentally supplies us with an appropriate name, generation. "The
circumstances we have hitherto assumed as common to all instruments, and
the events they generate. . . ."]
CHAPTER III.
OF CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES ARISING FROM THE
INSTITUTION OF SOCIETY.
MAN hardly exists but in the social state. If separated
>m infancy from his fellows, his peculiar faculties scarcely at
all develop themselves. His mental and bodily capacities and
energies seem, also, to be moulded by the condition of the
society of which he is a member. We may venture to predict,
that three children born tomorrow, one in Caffraria, another
in China, and a third in London, and remaining in their
respective countries till the age of twenty, will be very
di fit -rent beings, and that each will possess the mental and
bodily peculiarities, that characterize the particular community
to which he belongs. The same things, though in a lesser
degree, hold true concerning the men composing every nation.
Whether these characteristics of different races, tribes, and
peoples, proceed altogether from some peculiar hereditary con-
uition of the bodily organs, or from the effects of education,
example, and habit, or from the combination of these, or frmu
other causes, it is very certain that they exist, and that the
and intellectual condition, as well as the bodily organ i /a -
of men, vary, as they belong to this, or that society.
Besides this, institutions, forms of government, and laws,
influence somewhat the genius, and considerably affect the
luct, of every people, and these also are very various. It
thus happens that every society has, what may be torn MM!, a
tistinctive character of its own.
It is therefore assumed, in the succeeding investigations,
26 OF SOCIAL SOLIDARITY
that the moral and intellectual powers, the knowledge, the
habits and dispositions of the men composing every separate
community, society, nation, state, or people (terms which, as
t'.u- as our subject is concerned, may be considered synonymous),
are such as to give it a peculiar character distinguishing it
from other communities. It is also assumed, that the average
character of the members of different portions of the same.
community is similar, so that, were a considerable number of
the inhabitants of any particular state, taken from one part of
its territories, they would closely resemble an equal number,
taken from any other part. This latter assumption is not
exactly accurate. There are great differences, especially in
extensive states, between the characters of the inhabitants of
different portions of the same territory. These diversities
render it sometimes necessary to modify the conclusions that
follow from considering the average character of the members
of the same community as perfectly similar. Thus, the
differerent characters of the inhabitants of England, Ireland,
and Scotland, affect somewhat deductions in this subject,
drawn from treating the characters of the population of
different parts of Britain as uniform. In truth, every large
society might be divided into several smaller societies, differing
somewhat from each other. If they differ in some particulars,
however, they agree in many more, and certain results follow
from this agreement, which make it convenient to treat of
them as one. If necessary too, the amount of the inaccuracy,
arising from the assumption of a more perfect uniformity than
exists, may be ascertained.
2. Man, as an organic being, is governed by laws similar
to those which other organic beings obey. Our subject
obliges us to advert to a consequence arising from one of
them.
In the midst of the numerous revolutions and accidents
to which the surface of the globe is subject, it is always
abundantly replenished with animal and vegetable life, and
the numbers of every race upon it are kept up to the quantity
of materials fit for their subsistence which it affords them.
The increase and decrease of the human species, follows the
general law. This seems to be the foundation of what has
OF SOCIAL SOLIDARITY -27
been termed the doctrine of population. In the subsequent
pages it is received, simply as a statement of the fact, that
the numbers of every society increase, as what its members
are inclined to esteem a* sufficient subsistence, is provided for
them. 1
The great majority of the members of every community,
procure their subsistence by labor, and, according to this
principle, the number of laborers in every community must
finally depend on the amount of those things esteemed by
them sufficient for their subsistence, which is annually dis-
tributed among them. It has been supposed, however, that
there is a constant oscillation above and below this limit, and
that sometimes therefore the supply having to be divided
among a greater number, the amount that each receives is
less, sometimes, having to be divided among a smaller number,
is greater, and thus that the wages of labor, though they
always tend towards a fixed standard, never remain at it.
Admitting that this continual vibration may take place, I
conceive I may be permitted nevertheless to disregard it,
and to assume that the remuneration awarded the laborer,
Is, in the same society, always a fixed quantity. As it is not
intended to enter into any investigation of the principles
determining the amount of the wages of labor in all societies,
and at all times, nor to discuss the somewhat contradictory
doctrines that have been maintained on this subject, the most
simple assumption, and that, the errors arising from which
may be supposed to balance each other, seems the best.
Even considering the subject however under the most
iple conditions possible, there are still some difficulties
ittending it. The articles which the laborer uses, for food,
lothing, etc., and which constitute his real wages, are con-
tinually varying. Thus, among the working classes in Great
Britain, fabrics of cotton have, in a great measure, taken
place of those of linen, and wool for clothing ; as coal has
taken the place of wood for fuel. Seeing there is this change
in what constitute the wages of labor, how then, it may
1 [This is an uncritical following of the teaching of Malthas upon which Rae
made a great advance in his later years. (Compare the last part of Chapters
VI ,-ui.i XIII., and the Article on Population in the Appendix.)]
2s OF SOCIAL SOLIDARITY
be demanded, can wages at any two times be considered
equal?
In answer to such a question, it may be observed in general,
that all articles supplying the wants of the laborer, and form-
ing his real wages, are fitted for this purpose by some physical
qualities they possess, producing certain effects on his bodily
organs, and through them, occasionally, on the perceptions and
thoughts of his mind. One article, therefore, may be esteem oil
equal to another and different article, if the effects produced
by both are equal. Thus a certain quantity of coal, may be
considered equal to another of wood, if each gives out the same
degree of heat. In many cases it is indeed very difficult
to make this comparison with accuracy. This however is not
absolutely necessary for our purpose, it being sufficient to con-
ceive, that, what are termed the wages of labor, in the same
society at different periods, are really equal quantities,
whether we have, or have not, the means of measuring
them, and ascertaining that they actually are so. This
may evidently be assumed, if we suppose that the laborer
is equally well nourished, clothed, lodged, and instructed,
and has equal leisure, at the one period and at the other ;
whether he be fed, clothed, and lodged, in the same way
or not.
As the vigor of mind and body, as well as the skill, of
different individuals in the same society, are unequal, the rate
of the wages of labor, even in the same society, is far from
uniform. It is however difficult and in general reasonings un-
necessary, continually to refer to this variety ; and as it has,
in consequence, been usually neglected, we shall not farther
advert to it.
According to the preceding assumptions, labor, in the same
society, is to be considered as an invariable quantity, and
a day's labor as the unit, serving as the base for calculations,
concerning the formation and exhaustion of the capacity of
instruments. It is to be observed, however, that when so
employed, it finally refers, not to the mental and corporeal
effort exerted throughout the day by the laborer, but to the
wages received by him. The laborer is, usually, merely the
agent of some other person, and that other person is, in
OF SOCIAL SOLIDARITY 29
reality, the one forming the instrument constructed, as the
wa^es of the laborers employed by him are the causes of
its being constructed. 1 In cases, too, where the laborer works
for himself, he rates his daily labor equal to a certain amount
of some of the things he is in the habit of consuming, and this
amount may be considered, as what he really gives to the
construction of the instrument, in the formation of which he
employs himself.
The rates of wages vary, very much, in different societies.
A ( hinese laborer, for example, subsists on very much less
than an English laborer. On the principles of calculation
which we have adopted, there is, therefore, a difference, in
tin* quantity embraced by a day's labor in one country and
in another, and we cannot immediately compare, by this
means, instruments formed in one society, with those formed
in another. Our system has, in this respect, an analogy
t<> the different systems of numeration, with regard to weights,
measures, and coins, adopted in different countries. It will, as
we proceed, appear, that this diversity in the rate of wages,
in different communities, has also other and more important
effects.
3. Every society possesses a certain amount of materials
capable of being converted into instruments. The surface
ot its territory, the various minerals lying l>elow the surface,
its natural forests, its waters, the command it may have of
the ocean, and its consequent property in the minerals ami
animals contained in it, the rain that waters its soil, the
flrmentary principles that may be extracted from the atmo-
sphere, even, perhaps, the light and heat of the sun, are
all to be regarded as materials, which, through the agency
he labor of its members, may l>e converted into instru-
ments. The extent of the power, which the inhabitants
any state may possess, to convert into instruments the
iterials of which they have the commaml is ho\\v\rr
1 [This is one of the comparatively few places where Rae speaks specifically of
" laborers " and touches upon the function of the eiUrepeneur. It is not
in general but the entrepeneur, in our state of civilization, who forms
-< from materials with the aid of hired "labor," which last thus
becomes economically an analogue of " materials."]
30 OF SOCIAL SOLIDARITY
variable ; and increases, as we have seen, as their knowledge
of the properties of these materials and of the events, which
in consequence of them, they are capable of bringing to pass,
increases. Thus the large extent of the knowledge of the
civilized man, compared with that of the savage or barbarian,
gives him the power of constructing a much greater number of
instruments out of the same materials, and enables the Euro-
pean emigrant to convert the soil and forests of America
or New Holland, into means of producing a great mass of
desirable events, which it was beyond the technical capacity
of the ignorant native to effect.
CHAPTER IV.
A METHOD FOR THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS.
As by the capacity of instruments is to be understood their
power to produce, or bring to an issue, events equivalent to a
certain amount of labor, and as they are also formed by labor,
it is evident that the capacity given to any of them, and the
labor expended in its formation, have determinable numerical
relations to each other. The length of time likewise, elapsing
between their formation and exhaustion, may be expressed in
numbers. If a series then were devised, of such a nature, that
any relation that can exist among these three quantities, in
consequence of their varying proportions to each other, might
be embraced in it, every possible instrument would find a place
there.
It is to be observed that, in consequence of a principle soon
to be explained, no instruments will be designedly formed, luit
such as have a greater capacity, or issue in events equivalent
to more, than the labor expended in their construction. This
circumstance renders the formation of such a series more easy,
as it renders it unnecessary to take account of any other in-
struments than such as issue in events equivalent to more than
the labor expended in their formation, or, what may l>e termed,
the cost of their formation. To simplify the consideration !'
the matter, we may, for a little, proceed on the supposition,
that every instrument is constructed at one precise point of
time, and exhausted at another. In that case, every instru-
ment would find a place, in some part of a series, of \vhi< -h
the orders were determined by the period of time at which
32 THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS
instruments placed in them, issue, or would issue, if not before
exhausted, in events equivalent to double the labor expended in
forming them. These orders may be represented by the letters
A, B, C, * * Z a, b, c, etc. The relation to each other of the cost
of formation, the capacity, and the time elapsing between the
period of formation and that of exhaustion, of instruments in
the order A, is such as may be expressed by saying, they in
one year issue in events equivalent to double the labor ex-
pended on their formation, or would so issue, if not before
exhausted. The relation between these, in instruments of the
order B, is such, that in two years they issue in events equi-
valent to double the labor expended on them, and are then
exhausted. Instruments in the order C, in three years issue
in events equivalent to double the cost of formation ; of the
order D, in four years ; of the order Z, in twenty-six years ; of
the order a, in twenty-seven years, etc. For the sake of
facility of expression, instruments in the order A, or in the
orders near it, will be said to belong to the more quickly
returning orders ; instruments in the order Z, or in the orders
near it, or beyond it, will be said to belong to the more slowly
returning orders. 1
To imagine, in the first place, as simple a case as possible.
An individual, say an Indian trader, is obliged to reside on a
particular spot in the interior of North America, for somewhat
more than a year. He arrives in autumn, and immediately
sets about enclosing and digging up a piece of ground, for the
purpose of having it planted with maize. He expends on this
twenty days' labor. That labor he reckons equivalent to ten
bushels of maize. He gets the maize planted, hoed and
harvested next season, by Indian women, agreeing to give
them part of the crop. After deducting their portion he has
twenty bushels for himself, with which he leaves the place.
The field he formed was then an instrument of the order A.
The same individual has to reside a little more than two years
1 [A more correct expression would be the "more quickly" or "more
slowly " doubling " orders." The degree of speed with which an instrument
yields returns, or the physical results of its functioning, is only one of the factors
which determines the time in which it affords double the outlay on its forma-
tion, and which places it in a certain order.]
THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS 33
in another quarter of the interior. He clears, or has cleared
on his arrival, another piece of ground, and also expends on
this operation twenty days' labour. Owing however to the
soil being overrun with small roots, and it being necessary to
wait till they partially rot before a crop can be put on it, he
is aware that it cannot be planted until the second year. It is
then planted as before, and, as it happens, with the same event
as in the former field, yielding him net twenty bushels of maize.
This field then was an instrument of the order B. In the same
way it is possible to conceive the formation and exhaustion of
other instruments of this sort, answering to the orders C, D, E,
etc., the capacity of them all being double the cost of formation,
and the times intervening between the periods of formation and
'xhuustion, being respectively three, four, five, etc. years. Al-
though, however, instruments exactly corresponding to the
conditions assumed, may occasionally exist, and although it is
possible at least to conceive their existence throughout a
lengthened series, yet, in fact, they seldom do exist so as
exactly to answer the suppositions. In by far the greater
nuiiiter of instances, neither are the times elapsing between
the periods of formation and exhaustion, any exact number
of years, nor are the capacities exactly double the cost of
formation. But, in all variations of these three quantities
iVnin an exact correspondence with any of the orders, the
proportions existing between them, will, nevertheless, always
be such, as to make it possible to reduce the instruments
in \vhi(;h they occur, to some order or another in our series,
or to an order that may be interposed between two proxi-
mate orders.
Such variations may be reduced to three sorts. The first
ists of instances where the capacity is double the cost of
K -t inn, but the time, no exact number of years. In this
case, the instrument does not exactly belong to any of the
t 'numerated orders, but falls between two proximate orders: it
therefore be said to belong to an order, that may be sup-
posed to be interposed between these two. Thus, an instru-
ment 1><- ing exhausted in between seven and eight years, and
having a capacity equal to double the cost of production,
lit be said to belong to an order lying between G and H.
c
34 THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS
This designation would mark its character with sufficient
accuracy for our purpose.
There are only two other cases. The capacity of the instru-
ment may be exhausted before it arrive at an amount equal
to double the cost of formation, or, it may not be exhausted
until it has come to an amount greater than double the cost of
formation. In the former case it is necessary to suppose the
period of exhaustion prolonged, the excess of the capacity of
the instrument over the cost of formation increasing at the
same ratio, until the capacity double the cost. It will then be
shown to belong to some particular order, or to lie between
two proximate orders. Thus, let an individual have it in his
power to make use of a small plot of ground for six months,
and let him expend an equivalent to two days' labor in prepar-
ing it for receiving the seeds of some plant, sowing them, and
cultivating the crop, and let it return him, at the end of six
months, an amount, which, reduced to the value of days labor,
would be 2 '8 2 8. If then we suppose the period of exhaustion
prolonged, the excess of the capacity over the cost increasing
at the same ratio, in twelve months time the capacity will
be 4 ; for, 2'828 is a mean proportional between 2 and 4.
The instrument formed by the plants so cultivated, would
therefore belong to the order A, that order doubling in one
year.
In the case where the capacity comes to more than double
the cost of formation, the order in which the instrument should
be placed, is to be found, by retracing the progress of its
capacity, under the supposition that it advanced at the same
rate, until we arrive at a period when it was only double the
cost. The interval between that and the period of formation,
will then indicate the order to which it really belongs.
The bread fruit tree is perhaps twenty years old before it
will bear ; but ten of these trees, when in bearing, will, it is
said, nearly supply a family of South Sea islanders with a
sufficiency of this sort of food for eight months in the year.
This sort of fruit tree requires, too, no other labor or
attention than that bestowed in planting it. Suppose, then,
that an inhabitant of one of those islands were to spend an
hour in planting a few of these trees, and that, according to
THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS 35
the hypothesis of sudden exhaustion, on which we are proceed-
ing, at the termination of the twenty-two years they are
exhausted, yielding at that period an equivalent to two
thousand and forty-eight hours' labor. If then we retrace
the progress, at which the capacity of this instrument has ad-
vanced, we will find that it belongs to the order B. For
instruments in that order doubling in two years, one hour's
labor, if employed in forming an instrument of that order,
ought to yield an equivalent to two hours, at the end of the
second year ; and being then employed in constructing other
like instruments, at the end of the fourth year should yield an
equivalent to four hours, at the end of the sixth to eight, and
so the geometrical series, 2, 4, 8, 16, etc. would arise, which,
carried out to the eleventh term, at the end of the twenty-
second year, is 2048. It may perhaps serve somewhat to
illustrate the matter, to suppose, that the individual who
applied an hour's labor to planting the bread fruit tree, gave the
same portion of time to the cultivation of another sort of
plant, yielding its produce and perishing, at the termination of
the second year from the time of its being placed in the soil,
and the returns made from which are equal to double the
labor expended on its culture. Instead of consuming the crop
at the termination of the second year, he gives it to some
other person or persons, on condition of their applying for his
benefit two hours' labor, its equivalent, to the culture of a
second crop ; at the end of the fourth year, he proceeds in the
same manner, and, continuing the process, at the termination
of the twenty -second year, the produce of the labor of both
s, the one applied to the cultivation of the former plant,
and the other to that of the latter, would be equal. The only
diflerence in the cases would be, that the person in question
would, in the latter case, have the trouble of making a
bargain with one or more individuals every second year, and
would then also have the power to apply, if he so chose, to the
supply <>f his wants, the events, in this instance brought about
.is previous expenditure; and that, in the latter case, he
would have neither the power nor the trouble.
\Vc have assumed, that all instruments are formed at one
point of time, and exhausted at another. This is the case with
36 THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS
but very few. The period of formation almost always spreads
over a large space of time, and that of exhaustion, over
another. It is evidently, however, possible to fix on a point,
to be determined by a consideration of all the periods at which
the labor going to the formation was expended, which shall
represent the true period of formation ; and on another point,
determined from a consideration of similar circumstances
regarding the times when the capacity was exhausted, which
shall represent the true period of exhaustion.
Thus, suppose a small field in some new settlement in North
America were formed by twelve days' labor, it would, were it
of the order A, return in one year an equivalent to twenty-four
days' labor, and then be completely exhausted and worthless.
It might be, however, that it belonged to this order, although
it neither yielded so much as twenty-four days' labor, nor was
exhausted at the end of the year. Say, that the crop sown is
wheat, and, that one bushel of wheat is equivalent to one day's
labor. Were it at once exhausted, it ought to yield twenty-
four bushels of wheat ; it however only yields eighteen, and is
not then exhausted. There is consequently a deficiency of six
bushels. Now, six bushels at the end of the second year, at
the same rate of doubling in a year, ought to produce twelve.
Let us suppose that the next crop is hay, and that the net hay
yielded the second year is one ton, equal to eight bushels
wheat, then (12 8=4), there is still a deficiency of four
bushels, equivalent, at the end of the third year, to eight. If,
therefore, the next crop of hay the third year, be equal to what
it was the second, that is to eight bushels wheat, the deficiency
will then be made up. Let us suppose that it is so, and that
the field is at that time totally exhausted and useless. It is
evident, that such a field, though not producing or being
exhausted as by the supposition, yet producing and being
exhausted, in a manner equivalent to the supposition, might,
with propriety, be said to belong to the order A.
But, it is farther probable, that such a field might not pro-
duce quite so much grain, or hay, as we have even by the last
hypothesis supposed, and would not even at the end of the
third year, or for a much longer period, be exhausted ; still, if
the deficiency in the one were equivalent to the farther supply
THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS 37
in the other, it would evidently properly belong also to the
same order.
Again, by the suppositions we have made, the labor, or its
equivalent, was expended exactly at the commencement of the
period of one year. It might however have been, that some
part of the expenditure, going to the formation of this instru-
ment, was made several months before the commencement of
the year, and some several months after. But, had what was
expended before, been proportionably less, and what was
expended after, proportionably greater, the change would not
make any alteration to the relation existing between the time
inn! the expenditure, or, consequently, to the place of the
instrument.
The spaces over which the several points of time, at which
the formation of any instrument is effected, extend, and those
over which the several points of time at which its capacity is
exhausted also extend, frequently run into each other. Thus
according to our system a riding-horse is an instrument. The
space of time over which the whole period of his formation
nds, commences when his dam is put apart for breeding,
continues as long as any thing is laid out for the purpose
of giving efficiency and durability to him as an instrument,
and probably therefore only terminates a few days before the
ill -nth of the animal. , There would be a number of points all
along that space, at each of which something had been ex-
pended on his account, and from the date of which, and the
amount expended at each, data would be furnished, to ascertain
the whole expense of his formation, and the precise point from
whence it might be dated. The whole period of his exhaustion
would also extend over a large space. It would commence
wh -a he was first ridden for pleasure, or business, and would
terminate shortly after his death, when his hide went to the
tanner, and his flesh to the dogs. An account of the several
pended, and the times when they were expended, and
ot the several items yielded, and the times at which they were
yirMi'd, would furnish data for determining the total cost of
ition and capacity and the points to be fixed on as tin
periods of formation and exhaustion, and thus the place of the
u merit could be determined.
38 THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS
Calculations of this sort would be intricate, and could not be
well effected without having recourse to methods, not usually
employed in investigations like the present. In point of fact,
there is in practice, as we will afterwards see, a system of
notation of instruments, which enables us pretty accurately,
and very easily, to determine their place in such a series as we
have supposed. It is sufficient for the end here aimed at, to
perceive that when all particulars are known, concerning the
formation and exhaustion of any instrument, and the periods
intervening between these, data are then furnished for placing
it in some part of such a series as we have described ; and that
it may consequently be assumed that every instrument does, in
reality, belong to some one order in the series A, B, C, D, etc.,
or to an order that may be interposed between some two
proximate orders of that series.
It may perhaps appear, that though, could instruments be
considered apart, the foregoing explications might serve to
show, that they might all be reduced to a place in our series,
yet, as they very commonly act in combination, and as, in such
instances, the events in which two or more of them issue are
the same, it must be impossible to fix with accuracy the order
to which each belongs. Thus, a horse and a cart form together
an instrument for the transport of goods. The events, there-
fore, in which both issue, being the same, we cannot measure
the part that may belong to each, in any other manner, than
by appropriating to each the proportion indicated by their
respective costs of formation, and hence they will both appear
to belong to the same order, though perhaps they do in fact
belong to different orders. But our subsequent inquiries will
show, that the great mass of the instruments existing in the
same society are, in reality, at about the same orders ; and,
that instruments acting in combination with other instruments,
are almost always at the same orders. This objection is there-
fore removed, as all instruments acting in combination may
thus be considered as one.
Instruments are frequently repaired. The labor or its
equivalent, so expended, may be considered, either as a partial
reformation of the old instrument, or as the addition of a new
instrument to be combined in action with the old one. The
THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS 39
same rules therefore, apply to repairs effected on instruments,
as to their original formation.
We have assumed, hitherto, that both formation and ex-
haustion are properties common to all instruments. There is
however a class of instruments, that forms an exception to this
general rule. An extensive and important class exists, of a
nature so peculiar, that the instruments belonging to it are
r exhausted, unless in consequence of some revolution in
the circumstances of the society. That part of the surface of
the earth devoted to agricultural purposes composes this class.
The peculiarity arises from every portion of land so employed,
forming two distinct instruments. A piece of land, that it
may do its part in providing a supply for future wants, must
first be rendered capable of culture, and then be cultivated.
It is not necessary that he who renders it fit for culture,
should also cultivate it, though it commonly happens that both
operations are performed by the same individual. But by
whomsoever the operation of converting waste land, into land
bearing crops, be performed, two ends are always gained by it,
the power of cultivation, and the actual culture. There is this
great difference between them, that while the changes pro-
duced in a piece of land to fit it for cultivation are lasting
(remaining unless some means be taken to do away with
them), those that are effected on it by the actual process of
( ultivation are of short, or at all events, of limited duration.
When an individual has converted a portion of morass or
forest, into a field fit for the operations of tillage, it does
not return again to the state of morass or forest. He has
fitted it for being made an instrument of agriculture, or
rather a succession of instruments of agriculture. The
fanner, by manuring it, sowing certain seeds in it, and
tilling it, forms it into such an instrument. The changes
}i< i thus effects, however, pass away. The seeds he sows,
growing into plants of different kinds, are carried off; the
manure yields part of its substance to them, and is in part
ipated; the soil that had been loosened and pulverized
by the plough and harrow, is gradually again compacted
and hardened, by the effects of the action of the sun
and rain. As far, then, as it was actually an instrument of
40 THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS
agriculture it is exhausted. But its power of being again
formed into such an instrument remains, and the same opera-
tions, the same rotation of crops, may indefinitely succeed one
another.
The individual who first forms a portion of land into these
combined instruments, has probably in view, only the ends to
be gained by one of them. His motive to expend labor on the
formation of the field, is to fit it for immediate culture. But,
he cannot effect this, without also rendering it capable of being
cultivated to all succeeding times. The returns, which for
this reason it makes in those succeeding times, form what is
called rent; and this peculiarity in the nature of this sort of
double instrument, is one of the chief causes of the existence
of that particular species of revenue. Any portion of land,
therefore, which bears a crop, considered as regards its fitness
for being cultivated, is an instrument of indefinite exhaustion,
and will not consequently coincide with the conditions by
which the orders in our series are determined. We shall
afterwards see, that in every instance it may, notwithstanding,
be reduced to a determined place in that series. A portion of
cultivated land, considered as an instrument actually subject
to the operations of the husbandman, does not differ from any
other instrument. 1
In conclusion, it may be observed that the position in our
series which any instrument will occupy, is determined by the
following circumstances.
1. The shorter the space of time between the period of its
formation, and that of its exhaustion, the nearer will any
instrument be placed to the order A, that is, towards the more
quickly returning orders.
1 [Possibly the novel ideas set forth above will advantageously bear restate-
ment.
Land made fit for cultivation, but not in process of cultivation, is an instru-
ment toward the attainment of crops. It is formed from materials, that is,
from mere land surface. The farmer, when he manures, plants and tills, makes
an ephemeral superimposed instrument. Rent is paid, in Ricardian phrase,
for the "indestructible powers of the soil"; but these powers are not
" original," but were produced or rendered available by him who first brought
a certain area of land surface into a state fit for cultivation.]
THE COMPARISON OF INSTRUMENTS 41
2. The greater the capacity, and the less the cost of its
formation, the nearer will any instrument be to the order A ;
the less the capacity, and the greater the cost of formation,
the farther will it be from A.
Generally, the proximity of instruments to A is inversely as
the cost and the time, and directly as the capacity.
CHAPTER V.
OF CERTAIN TECHNICAL CIRCUMSTANCES GOVERNING
THE AMOUNT OF INSTRUMENTS FORMED.
HAVING traced the general nature of instruments, and shown,
that the relations existing among the circumstances by which
they are affected, make it practicable to arrange them in a
regular series, the object next claiming our attention, is, to
ascertain the causes determining the amount of them which
each society possesses, and to note the more remarkable
phenomena which the operation of those causes produces.
The causes determining the amount of instruments formed
by any society, will, I believe, be found to be four.
1. The quantity and quality of the materials owned by it.
2. The strength of the effective desire of accumulation.
3. The rate of wages.
4. The progress of the inventive faculty.
The nature of the second of these, and the circumstances on
which its strength depends, will form the subject of the next
chapter, but previously to entering on it, it is necessary to
establish the following proposition.
The capacity which any people can communicate to the mate-
rials they possess, by forming them into instruments, cannot be
indefinitely increased, while their knowledge of their powers and
qualities remain stationary, without moving the instruments
formed continually onward in the series A^ B, C, etc.: but, there
is no assignable limit to the extent of the capacity, which a people
having attained considerable knowledge of the qualities and powers
of the materials they possess, can communicate to them, without
OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS 43
carrying them [wholly] out of the series A, B y C, etc., even if that
knowledge remain stationary. 1
The capacity of instruments may be increased, by adding to
their durability, or to their efficiency; that is, by prolonging
the time during which they bring to pass the events, for the
purpose of effecting which they are formed, or, by increasing
the amount of them which they bring to pass within the same
time.
A dwelling-house is an instrument, aiding to bring to an
issue events of various classes. It more or less completely
prevents rain, damp, and the extremes of cold and heat, from
penetrating to the space included within its area. It preserves
all other instruments contained within it, in comparative
safety. It gives those who inhabit it the power of carrying
<ni unmolested, various domestic occupations, and of enjoying,
undisturbed by the gaze of strangers, any of the gratifications
or amusements of life, of which they may be able and desirous
to partake. Events of these sorts, it may bring to pass, for a
longer or shorter time, or to a greater or less extent, within
-ame time. In the former case, the durability is increased,
in the latter, the efficiency ; in both, the capacity is augmented.
Dwelling-houses are built of different materials, and those
materials are wrought up with more or less care. A dwelling
nii.L'ht be slightly run up of wood, lath, mud, plaster, and paper,
which would be habitable only for a few months or years, like
the unsubstantial villages that Catherine of Russia saw in her
progress through some parts of her dominions. Another of
the same size, accommodation, and appearance, that might last
for two or three centuries, might be constructed, by employing
stone, iron, and the most durable woods, and joining and
compacting them together, with great nicety and accuracy.
Between these two extremes there are all imaginable varieties.
According to that adopted, both the durability and the effi-
ciency will be greater or less. These two may be separated
from each other, at least in imagination, and therefore we may
Mei them apart.
'[In other words, in the absence of the advance of the arts, extension of
industrial operations meets with a resistance, but that resistance is never
absolute.]
44 OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS
If the increased durability that may be given an instrument
be considered apart from the increased efficiency that will also
probably be communicated to it, it must be regarded simply as
an extension of its existence, and consequently as a like exten-
sion of its capacity. A dwelling-house lasts, we shall say,
sixty years, but in other respects is perfectly similar to one
lasting only thirty years. Considered as an instrument, the
former is, therefore, exactly equal to two of the latter, the one
formed thirty years after the other. A house lasting one
hundred and twenty years would in like manner have the
capacity of four houses, one formed now, a second thirty, a
third sixty, and a fourth ninety years hence. The capacity
thus increasing at the same rate as the duration, if the limits
to the power of giving durability be indefinite, the limits to
the power of communicating capacity are also indefinite.
But to give additional durability to the instrument there
must be additional labor bestowed on its formation. An
increase of the durability of an instrument may therefore be
considered as a power communicated to it of giving existence
to a new instrument at the end of a certain period, and pur-
chased by a present expenditure. The effects [that is, the net
economic result] produced by the change will be determined by
the relations subsisting between the returns made by the
addition, its cost, and the time elapsing between the expendi-
ture and return. If we suppose the present expenditure
necessary to produce the durability, to be always equal to the
durability produced, then the compound instrument will be
moved towards the more slowly returning orders, because the
new instrument is in that case one of slower return. One
dwelling-house lasts thirty years ; another, the same as it in
other respects, but costing double the expense of formation,
lasts sixty years ; the former house is an instrument of the
order 0, doubling in fifteen years. The part of the duration
of the latter extending from the thirtieth to the sixtieth year,
is to be considered, by our hypothesis, as a separate instrument.
If we suppose, that during the time it is in use it returns as
the other, at the end of the sixtieth year it will have returned
only four, and, therefore, is an instrument of the order c
doubling only in thirty years. The compound instrument will,
OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS 45
in consequence, be of an order between X and Y, doubling in
between twenty-four and twenty-five years. The procedure of
jtil<ling to the durability, by adding equally to the expense of
formation, will have greater effect in placing an instrument
further from A, the more it is subjected to its operation. Thus,
were an instrument of this sort to have its duration prolonged
to one hundred and twenty years, and at the same expense, the
last thirty would return only four in one hundred and twenty
years, whereas, had it formed an instrument of the order 0, it
ought to have yielded two hundred and fifty-six. Were the
durability increased still farther, at the same cost, the diver-
gence would be much greater, going on in a geometrical ratio.
If, therefore, continual additions be made to the durability of
an instrument, it cannot be preserved at an order of equally
quick return, unless the several augmentations be communi-
cated to it, by an expenditure diminishing in a geometrical
ratio ; that is, in a ratio becoming indefinitely less, as it is
continued. This, however, cannot happen, for it would imply
an absurdity. While instruments are in existence, they are
either producing events, or giving a new direction to their
course. But mere matter, unless in some very rare instances,
is never acting, or acted upon, without undergoing a change.
This we term wear, and the effects it indicates form conse-
quently a definite power, to counteract which, a definite force
must be found. It cannot then, be counteracted, by a force
nitely small.
The same thing may be illustrated in another manner.
When events are produced and governed by design, they in
tui- 1 1 generate other events of greater powers than themselves,
anl these others, in a series rapidly increasing. Mere dura-
bility in instruments, may be considered as a capacity to
generate future events, lying dormant in them, till the lapse of
years exposes its existence, and gives it opportunity to act.
'greater the time therefore, for the expiration of which it
waii. the less the chance of its being on an equality with
is, whose powers are continually and rapidly multiplying
r events, or enjoyments, whenever they have a field on
which to exert their energies.
While the knowledge of the course of events which the
46 OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS
members of any society possess remaius unaltered, and the
materials they own are the same, the duration of the instru-
ments they form cannot, consequently, be indefinitely increased,
without their being moved, farther and farther, from the more
quickly returning orders.
The durability of instruments refers only to those of gradual
exhaustion ; their efficiency, or the extent of their power to
bring about events within a certain time, refers both to those
of gradual, and of sudden exhaustion. If the knowledge of
the course of events, and the amount of the materials remain
the same, the efficiency of these materials when formed into
instruments cannot be indefinitely increased, without that
increase being at length made with additional difficulty, and
through means of an amount of labor greater than was re-
quired in the earlier stages. The action of matter upon
matter always depends on some cause. Those causes, the
inherent qualities and powers of the different matters around
him, are the means man employs to make one material to act
so on another as to produce the events he desires, and he does
so by applying his labor to give them such a form and posi-
tion as may bring their powers into play. If we suppose any
number of men to be fixed to one situation, and their know-
ledge of the qualities of the materials around them to remain
stationary, they will naturally first make choice of those
materials, whose powers are most easily brought into action,
and which produce the desired events most abundantly and
speedily. But as the stock of materials which any society
possesses, is limited, its members, if we suppose them to
acquire no additional knowledge of the powers of those
materials, and yet to add continually to the amount of instru-
ments they form out of them, must at length have recourse to
such as are either operated on with greater difficulty, or bring
about desired events more sparingly or tardily. The efficiency
of the instruments produced must therefore be generated by
greater cost ; that is, they must pass to orders of slower
return. 1
1 [There is, in our present-day phraseology, a descent of industry in the
society to a lower margin of productivity.]
OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS 47
This passage will be rapid, or slow, as the amount of know-
ledge possessed is small, or great. When art is in its infancy,
and men know but a few of the properties fitting them for
becoming instruments that are inherent in the materials in
their possession, they cannot much vary their mode of proceed-
ing on them, by combining, and giving new turns to their
actions on each other. In more advanced stages of society, on
the contrary, where the powers of a great number of materials
are known, and where consequently their operations on each
other may be combined, and multiplied to a great extent, the
means by which the same end may be attained are very
numerous. Some of them are more easy or expeditious than
others but they differ by very slight degrees, and the instru-
ments formed by successively adopting them, would occupy
positions in our series not widely distant from one another.
If we then consider the capacity that may be given any
amount of materials, by a society among whom the progress of
art is stationary, as separated into the durability, and
efficiency, of the instruments its members form, it would
appear, that they are both subject to similar laws, and that
neither can be indefinitely increased, without carrying the
i i i.-t rumen ts constructed continually on, to orders of slower
return. The same general conclusions must obviously hold
good, conceming the capacity considered as combined of both.
There is, however, a circumstance flowing from the considera-
t in of this union, which is deserving of notice, as it has
iderable effect in the relations between the cost and
<;ity of instruments, and, consequently, on the position to
be assigned them. It often happens, that additional labor
bestowed on an instrument, to give it greater efficiency, gives
it also greater durability. Thus the same choice of materials,
and the same careful and laborious formation of them, that
render the walls of a dwelling-house effective in excluding the
inclemency of the weather, give it also solidity and strength,
and consequently prolong its duration. A tool, in the fabrica-
tion .f which good steel has been employed, not only cuts
better, but lasts longer, than one formed of inferior stuff. In
such cases, and they are very numerous, the capacity being
increased both as concerns durability and efficiency, by tho
48 OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS
same outlay, its proportion to the cost is greater, and a larger
expenditure may be made on the formation of the instrument
without moving it at all, or moving it but a short distance,
towards the orders of slower return. Sometimes the same
expenditure that gives efficiency to instruments, partly also
increases their durability, and partly quickens their exhaustion.
Thus, the majority of roads in North America, and in many
other countries, are constructed altogether of the soil of which
the surface happens to consist, arranged in a form adapted to
the purpose. Such roads, unless in the best of weather, are
very inefficient instruments in facilitating transport, and their
durability is so small, that they are probably reconstructed , by
repair, every four or five years. A road formed of small
fragments of stone, in the manner that is termed macadamiza-
tion, costs perhaps twenty times as much, but is both a far
more efficient, and a far more durable instrument. Besides,
however, being more durable, and efficient, the facility it gives
to transport occasions an increase of transport, and its exhaus-
tion is thus quickened. For example, the capacity of a road
of this sort, may be adequate to the transport of two hundred
thousand carriages ; if this be spread over twenty years, it will
be an instrument of much slower return, than if, in conse-
quence of the annual transport being doubled, that number
pass over it in ten years.
As efficiency and durability are frequently produced by
the same means, so, it sometimes happens, that the means
which would add to the one, cannot be employed, without
diminishing the other. Thus there are many tools and uten-
sils, that cannot be made very strong, and therefore durable,
without being at the same time clumsy, and inefficient ; and
they cannot be made very light, and easy to work with, with-
out being also of little durability. The difficulty in the
combination of the qualities of durability and efficiency in the
same materials, can only, however, be considered as absolutely
limiting the capacity of those instruments, to support the
weight of which, a corporeal exertion is required ; and is con-
sequently confined to wearing apparel, and to those tools, and
utensils, which are altogether moved by the hand. When the
weight rests on some firm basis, it can be poised ; and, by the
OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS 49
application of sufficient expenditure, friction can be removed.
The circumstance of the qualities of durability and efficiency,
depending on the same materials, has therefore, probably, on
the whole, the effect of retarding somewhat, though not very
greatly, the progress of instruments as greater capacity is given
to them, towards the more slowly returning orders.
The various powers of the material world, seem to be con-
nected at some common centre, and its several parts to exercise
reciprocal influences on each other. Hence, a discovery of
properties in any one material, or more easy modes of
1 'ringing the old into play, generally extends the power of man
over a great range of the other materials, which he had been
in the habit of before applying to his purpose. When art,
therefore, has made considerable progress, and comprehends
within its dominion a multiplicity of materials, the variety of
effects that may be generated, from the action, and reaction, on
each other, of the numerous powers at its disposal, becomes
illimitable. As in numbers, every addition multiplies amaz-
ingly the possible antecedent combinations, until at length the
amount becomes too great to be ascertained. Hence it is,
(hat, though among barbarous nations the ability of man to
ase the amount of instruments he possesses may be
[narrowly] bounded, among nations having made considerable
advance in art, there seems no assigning any limit to it, other
than that indicated in the second part of the proposition,
th- necessary gradual passage of the instruments constructed
to orders of slower and slower return.
It is hence, that, if we turn to any community where art
has advanced, we invariably see, that however much industry
may have already exerted itself on the materials within its
reach, the field for its possible future action seems rather
increased than diminished, and that the farther we stretch our
view over it, to the greater distance its extreme circumference
recedes from us. The industry of the people of Great Britain,
has probably been as largely applied to the materials which its
limited territory possesses, as that of any other community
presently existing; yet certainly there is no lack of matters
on which it might be farther exercised. A large portion of
its surface, and which wants not all the requisites for the
D
50 OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS
sustenance of vegetable life, lies, nevertheless, yet uncultivated.
With the exception of the mountainous and rocky regions,
heat, light, air and water, in sufficient abundance rest on every
part of it, nor is the presence of many of the earths, the
mixture of which forms a proper shelter for the tender radicle
fibres, and a commodious storehouse for an important part of
their nourishment, any where wanting. There is also in
general a considerable supply diffused over the surface of the
decomposing remains of former vegetables and animals, the
material which constitutes nearly the whole solid food that
the organic life of plants requires; and, even when this is
deficient at one point, there are larger collections of it at some
other. The outlay requisite, in many instances, to give such
form to these materials, as to fit them for the purposes of the
agriculturist, would, no doubt, be very great ; still, whatever it
might be, as the instrument formed would be of unlimited
duration, the annual returns from it would, in time, exceed
the cost of formation, and bring it within the limits of our
series.
Were we to go over the various other instruments, the
returns from which supply the wants of this community, we
should perceive, that every where their capacities are capable
of being greatly increased. One would not find it very easy
to say, how much might be added to the durability and effi-
ciency of dwelling-houses alone. The amount of the capacity
for the facilitation of future transport, which might be
embodied in railroads, returning ultimately much more than
the cost of their formation, is incalculable ; as is also, the
degree to which mining operations might be extended. Even
supposing all these, and many other instruments, to have
acquired a vastly increased extent, both as concerns durability
and efficiency ; instead of limiting their farther increase, it
would seem likely, rather to open up a still wider space, for the
exertion of future industry in the formation of others. Were
the soil universally cultivated, were railroads extended and
ramified throughout the country, and were the riches of the
mineral kingdom more fully brought out, the additional facility
given to the formation of instruments, by the command
afforded of the materials necessary for their construction, and
OF TECHNICAL LIMITATIONS 51
tin- cast* with which they might be transported from point to
point, would, it may well be supposed, be sufficient to give the
means of a still greater increased construction of them, and a
still farther advance of the amount of the capacities for the
supply of futurity, embodied in the various instruments spread
over the surface of the territory, or lying above, or beneath it.
In short, the more we consider the subject, the more clearly
shall we perceive the impossibility of fixing any [absolute]
limit to the amount of the labor which may be expended in
the formation of instruments, in this, or any other community,
where art has made considerable advance.
This progress [that is, mere extension of industrial opera-
tions], while art itself remained stationary, would, however,
undoubtedly, gradually carry instruments to more and more
slowly returning orders, and would not therefore take place,
unless the society were inclined to construct instruments of
those orders. What the circumstances are, which determine
individuals and societies to stop at this or that order of instru-
ments [in any given state of the arts], will form the subject of
the next chapter.
[Rae does not develop fully in this chapter, or indeed anywhere else, the
bases for a generalized concept of diminishing returns. One additional aspect
of the subject is brought out in the second paragraph of Chapter VII.]
CHAPTEK VI.
OF THE CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH DETERMINE THE
STRENGTH OF THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION.
IT has been shown, in the preceding chapter, that, in com-
munities where an extensive knowledge of the materials within
reach of the industry of their members has generated numerous
arts, we can assign no limit, in the nature of the materials
themselves, to the capacity for the supply of future wants that
might be given to them : but, that the instruments so formed,
pass, by a gradual and uninterrupted progress, to orders of
slower and slower return. It is scarcely necessary to observe,
that the increase to the capacity which may be given to in-
struments, cannot be restricted by inability to devote additional
labor to their construction ; for, as all instruments at the
period of their exhaustion return more than the cost of their
formation, they give the means of reconstructing others, return-
ing also somewhat more largely than themselves. There are,
nevertheless, in every society causes [not physical or technical]
effectually bounding the advance of instruments to orders
capable of embracing a larger and larger circle of materials,
and the determination of those causes is the subject now
claiming our attention.
Instruments are all formed by one amount of labor, or some
equivalent to it, that is, by something either capable of yield-
ing, or itself constituting some of the necessaries, conveniences,
or amusements of life, and they return another greater amount
of labor or its equivalents. The formation of every instrument
therefore, implies the sacrifice of some smaller present good,
THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION 53
for the production of some greater future good. If, then, the
production of that future greater good, be conceived to deserve
the sacrifice of this present smaller good, the instrument will
be formed, if not, it will not be formed. According to the
series in which we have arranged instruments, they double the
cost of their formation in one, two, three, etc., years. Conse-
quently, the order to which in any society the formation of
instruments will advance, will be determined by the length of
the period, to which the inclination of its members to yield up
a present good, for the purpose of producing the double of it
at the expiration of that period, will extend : according as it
stretches to one, two, three, twenty, forty, etc., years will the
formation of instruments be carried, to the orders, A, B, C, T,
n, etc., and, at the point where the willingness to make the
sacrifice ceases, there the formation of instruments must stop.
The circumstances, therefore, on such occasions governing the
-ion of the members of all societies, must be the causes,
fixing the point to which the formation of instruments may in
any society be carried, and beyond which it cannot advance.
The determination to sacrifice a certain amount of present
good, to obtain another greater amount of good, at some future
period, may be termed the effective desire of accumulation. All
nifii may be said to have a desire of this sort, for all men
prefer a greater to a less ; but to be effective it must prompt
to action.
"Were life to endure for ever, were the capacity to enjoy in
perfection all its goods, both mental and corporeal, to be pro-
longed with it, and were we guided solely by the dictates of
reason, there could be no limit to the formation of means for
future gratification, till our utmost wishes were supplied. A
pleasure to be enjoyed, or a pain to be endured, fifty or a
hundred years hence, would be considered deserving the same
attention as if it were to befall us fifty or a hundred minutes
lirnce, and the sacrifice of a smaller present good, for a greater
future good, would be readily made, to whatever period that
futurity might extend. But life, and the power to enjoy it,
are the most uncertain of all things, and we are not guided
altogether by reason. We know not the period when death
may come upon us, but we know that it may come in a few
54 THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION
days, and must come in a few years. Why then be providing
goods that cannot be enjoyed until times, which, though not
very remote, may never come to us, or until times still more
remote, and which we are convinced we shall never see ? If
life, too, is of uncertain duration and the time that death
comes between us and all our possessions unknown, the ap-
proaches of old age are at least certain, and are dulling, day
by day, the relish of every pleasure.
A mere reasonable regard to their own interest, would,
therefore, place the present very far above the future, in the
estimation of most men. But, it is besides to be remarked,
that such pleasures as may now be enjoyed, generally awaken
a passion strongly prompting to the partaking of them. The
actual presence of the immediate object of desire in the mind,
by exciting the attention, seems to rouse all the faculties, as it
were, to fix their view on it, and leads them to a very lively
conception of the enjoyments which it offers to their instant
possession. The prospects of future good, which future years
may hold out to us ; seem at such a moment dull and dubious,
and are apt to be slighted, for objects on which the daylight is
falling strongly, and showing us in all their freshness just
within our grasp. There is no man perhaps, to whom a
good to be enjoyed to day, would not seem of very different
importance, from one exactly similar to be enjoyed twelve
years hence, even though the arrival of both were equally
certain.
Nor, while we retain any taste for pleasures, is it easy to
prescribe limits to the extent to which we may indulge in
them, or to the amount of the funds they may absorb. Every
where we see that to spend is easy, to spare, hard. Every one
indeed looks upon those in the rank immediately above him,
as rolling in superfluous extravagance. But, in every rank,
from the prince to the peasant, there are very many indi-
viduals, who have difficulty in procuring funds to defray the
cost of articles, the expenditure of which they look upon as
necessary to their condition, and, for the remainder, in the
different classes, who have more than their utmost real desires
would call for, pleasure is so entwined with extravagance, in
the forms in which she presents herself to each, that it is
THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION 55
difficult fully to embrace the one, without coming within the
circle of the other.
It would then appear, that merely personal considerations,
can never give great strength to the effective desire of accumu-
lation. A future good, as concerns the individual, when
I'ulanced against a present good, is both exceedingly uncertain
in its arrival, and in the amount of enjoyment it may yield, is
probably far inferior. Such considerations would undoubtedly
represent it, as a great folly to deny youth or manhood plea-
sure, that old age might have riches not to be enjoyed by it,
but which, like the fabled monster in the garden of the
; Brides, it must employ itself with restless care to guard
for others,
" Conservana aliis, quse periere sibi
Sicut in auricomis pendentia plurimus hortis
Pervigil observat non sua poma draco." 1
A prudent calculation of mere personal enjoyment, could
prompt to nothing more than a provision for self, and would
only lead to the making, as it is said, the day and the journey
alike, and taking care that youth should not want pleasure,
nor old age comfort. But, as passion is ever getting the
better of mere prudence, this limit would every now and then
be exceeded, and in numerous instances, the satiety of riot
would be succeeded by the miseries of want. Wherever a
large amount of means for the gratification of the present
existed, they would be squandered, and no one, on the other
hand, would be inclined to make any great sacrifice of the
present, for the purpose of providing for the future. The
strength of the effective desire of accumulation would be
and only instruments would be formed as were of the
<}uiokly returning orders.
But man's pleasures are not altogether selfish. He receives
pleasure from giving pleasure, and is far from the perfection of
xistence when he does not draw his enjoyments, rather
ii "in the good he communicates, than from that which he
<:. Oalli, ?<</. I. The whole elegy is illustrative of that isolation of
f* ling and action, and consequent individual misery and general weakness,
that pervaded th< Kmpirc at the time.
56 THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION
reserves. Without the ties which bind him to others through
the conjugal and parental relations, the claims of his kindred,
his friends, his country, or his race, life would be to most men
a burden. These are its great stimulants, and sweeteners,
giving an aim to every possible exertion, and an interest
to every moment. If, sometimes, they shadow our being with
cares and fears, those passing shadows but prove there is a
sunshine. The light of life only disappears, and its dreary
night then commences, when we have none for whom to live.
Then the whole creation is a void. Really to live is to
live with, and through others, more than in ourselves. To do
so we must do so truly.
" Love, and love only, is the loan for love."
If the mere pretence deceive others, it mocks and tantalizes
ourselves, encircling us with a joy as unreal, as that which the
looks and tones of affection shed round him, who receives them
disguised in a borrowed garment. We cannot enjoy 'them, be-
cause we feel that they are not ours, but some other's whose
dress we wear.
In so far as to procure good for others, gives a real pleasure
to the individual, he is released from that narrow and imper-
fect sphere of action, to which his mere personal interests
would confine him, and the future goods which the sacrifice of
present ease or enjoyment may produce, lose the greater part
of their uncertainty and worthlessness. Though life may pass
from him, he reckons not that his toils, his cares, his priva-
tions, will be lost, if they serve as the means of enjoyment to
some whom he may leave behind. These feelings, therefore,
investing the concerns of futurity with a lively interest to the
individual, and giving a continuity to the existence and pro-
jects of the race, must tend to strengthen very greatly the
effective desire of accumulation. There would seem to be
no limit to the possible extent of their operation. The more
powerful and predominating they become, the greater must be
their influence. It is true they are often feeble, and oppressed
by other principles, and it is just as true that the world is full
of deceit, hollowness, and unhappiness. As far as they exist,
however, they form a real element of great power in the
THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION 57
determination of the course of human action, and one the nature
of which would seem to indicate, and experience to prove,
to be of great influence on the particular part of it that forms
our present subject. In the succeeding pages, the terms, the
social and benevolent affections, will be employed to denote them.
The strength of the intellectual powers, giving rise to
reasoning and reflective habits, forms another important
ent in the determination of the course of human action.
These habits in opposition to the passions of the present hour,
bring before us the future, both as concerns ourselves, and
others, in its legitimate force, and urge the propriety of
providing for it. Although therefore, were our cares limited
altogether to ourselves, the greatest strength of the reasoning
faculty could prompt to but a very limited operation on
the events of futurity, yet, the farther they extend to others,
the wider is the circle of operations that we are led to
embrace. These two principles of our nature, the social and
benevolent affections, and the intellectual powers, serve indeed
mutually to move each other to action, the affections exciting
the intellect to discover the means of producing good, the
intellect opening up a channel to the affections by giving the
power to do good.
All circumstances increasing the probability of the provision
we make for futurity being enjoyed by ourselves or others, also
tend to give strength to the effective desire of accumulation.
Thus a healthy climate, or occupation, by increasing the pro-
bability of life, has a tendency to add to this desire. When
engaged in safe occupations, and living in healthy countries,
n i* MI are much more apt to be frugal, than in unhealthy,
or hazardous occupations, and in climates pernicious to human
life. Sailors and soldiers are prodigals. In the West Indies,
Xi \v Orleans, the East Indies, the expenditure of the inhabi-
tants is profuse. The same people, coming to reside in the
healthy parts of Europe, and not getting into the vortex
of extravagant fashion, live economically. War, and pestilence,
have always waste, and luxury, among the other evils that
follow in their train.
For similar reasons, whatever gives security to the affaire of
the community, is favorable to the strength of this principle.
58 THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION
In this respect the general prevalence of law and order, and
the prospect of the continuance of peace and tranquility, have
considerable influence.
These seem to be the chief circumstances, determining the
relations between present and future good, in the minds of
those in any society, who have a mind and a will, at the time
they are forming habits. When habits are once formed, they
regulate the tenor of the future life, and make slaves of their
former masters. There are, however, in every society, very
many who form habits, and pursue a certain line of conduct
through life, not from any reasoning or choice of their own, but
hurried on by the example of those around them, and the
general direction in which the current of feeling and action
sets throughout the whole body. It is evident, however, that
the power that moves and directs the mass, lies not in them,
but in those who govern their conduct in whole, or in part, by
their own feelings and passions, and the reflections which
the situation of circumstances around them suggests to them.
These form the great moving principle, the others, like the
balance-wheel in an engine, merely keep up, and give uni-
formity, to the motion they generate.
The desire to accumulate would then seem to derive strength,
chiefly from three circumstances.
1. The prevalence throughout the society of the social and
benevolent affections, or, of that principle, which, under what-
ever name it may be known, leads us to derive happiness from
the [future] good we communicate to others.
2. The extent of the intellectual powers, and the conse-
quent prevalence of habits of reflection, and prudence, in the
minds of the members of the society.
3. The stability of the condition of the affairs of the society,
and the reign of law and order throughout it.
It is weakened, and strength given to the desire of immedi-
ate enjoyment, by three opposing circumstances.
1. The deficiency of strength in the social and benevolent
affections, and the prevalence of the opposite principle, a desire
of mere selfish gratification.
2. A deficiency in the intellectual powers, and the conse-
quent want of habits of reflection and forethought.
THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION 59
3. The instability of the affairs of the society, and the im-
perfect diffusion of law and order throughout it.
The reader may perhaps conceive, that, in enumerating these
different circumstances, and deducing the strength of the
live desire of accumulation from the preponderance of the
one class over the other, I am attempting an unnecessary
iL'tinement, and that the principle of a regard to self interest
alone, though it may not, of itself, give great strength to this
desire, yet, from its combination with other springs of action,
must generally do so indirectly and ultimately and may,
fore, be assumed as a cause sufficient to account for the
phenomena. If we confine our attention to the present times,
and to particular parts of the globe, this may be readily
admitted. Now, and in those places, a prudent regard to self
interest would doubtless prompt many individuals to cooperate
effectively in the increase of the general means of enjoyment.
But there is nothing more apt to mislead us, when investi-
gating the causes determining the motions of any great system,
than to take our station at some particular point in it, and,
examining the appearances there presented to us, to suppose
that they must be precisely similar through the whole sphere
of action. Because, in Great Britain, a regard to mere self
interest, may now prompt to a course of action leading to
making a large provision for the wants of others, we are, in
reality, no more warranted to conclude that it will do so
always, and in every place, than were the ancients warranted
to conclude, because in their particular communities, the pur-
suit of wealth commonly generated evil, that it must therefore
do so always and in every place.
There seem to be, in modern times, and in particular com-
munities, two circumstances, that may lead an individual, from
a mere regard to his personal interest, to pursue the paths of
sober industry and frugality, and, consequently, to make an
extended provision for the wants of others. These seem to be
the desire of personal, and family aggrandizement, and a wish,
conjoined with the pursuit of both, to rank high in the
estimation of the world. The acquisition of fortune, is a road
open to the ambition of all men, and, in the present days, is
>nly road open to that of most men. The mere desire to
60 THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION
rise in the world, and envy of the superiority of other men,
may excite many to enter on this path, and preserve them
steadily in it. This sort of spirit, however, must be kept in
strict check, by a large surrounding mass of genuine probity,
and tenderness of the happiness of others, or it certainly breaks
out into disorders. 1 There is none more easily tempted to evil,
or more dangerous. It is the first to diminish the security of
all compacts, and transactions of business, by fraud and ex-
actions ; it is the first to disturb the public tranquillity, by
seditions and conspiracies. It is such a spirit, predominating
over a character otherwise good, that Shakspeare paints in
Cassius. Caesar thinks him to be feared, because,
" Such men as he be never at heart's ease,
While they behold a greater than themselves ;
And therefore are they very dangerous."
It is this temper that spurs him on, " in envy of great
Caesar," to " humour, and win, the noble Brutus," to the
assassination. It is the same spirit, that renders him un-
scrupulous,
"To sell and mart his offices for gold,
To undeservers ;"
and, to wring
" From the hard hand of peasants, their vile trash,
By any indirection."
Whenever, therefore, the mere desire of distinction is the
object for which wealth is generally pursued, there, the pursuit
infallibly, at length, withdraws from the path of virtue, and
excites those engaged in it, to a disregard of their own honor,
and the suffering of others.
"Magnum pauperies opprobrium jubet
Quidvis et facere et pati,
Virtutisque viam deserit arduse."
When such is the character of only a small minority of
those who pursue wealth, it is not injuriously felt. The
J [Are we not experiencing just such an outbreak of "disorders" in the
phenomena of Trusts and get-rich-quick schemes, and " graft " of all sorts, at
the present day ?]
THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION 61
energy of their motion, rather quickens the progress of the
whole, than retards it. It is very different, when such
characters compose the majority of those engaged in such
] >ui -suits. A chaos of deceit, treachery, knavery, is then
generated, in which truth, generosity, good faith, compassion,
perish. Hence it was, that the pursuit of wealth, in ancient
times, was held as absolutely incompatible with the lowest
decree of liberal sentiment, virtuous spirit, or common honesty.
Plato expressly says, that in commerce and traffic there is no
such thing as an honest man, and numerous passages from the
Greek and Koman writers might be cited in proof, that, in
those days, it was admitted on all hands, that the character of
the money-making man was uniformly vicious. The following
is one of the most striking I can presently find.
"It is impossible for the same man to be given to sensual
pleasures, and to the love of money, and to be religious. For
he who is a lover of pleasure will be a lover of money, and he
who loves money, must of necessity be unjust, and a violator
< if the laws of God and man." l It is here not thought
necessary to give any proof of the assertion ; on the contrary, it
is taken as an admitted fact, from which a consequence may
be deduced.
In those times, therefore, the pursuit of wealth was disre-
putable, and the self-love of no one could be gratified by the
character it procured him. We are apt to conceive the obser-
vation of St. Paul, that " the love of money is the root of all
evil, and infallibly leads to wickedness," as springing from the
ascetic spirit in which he contemplated matters, whereas it is
common to him with all the moralists of his time, even with
the most liberal of them, and must be held as a mere statement
of what was then an obvious fact. Thus Horace calls it the
same thing, "summi materiam mali," and the voice of the
whole age agrees with him. An assiduous care to the increase
of fortune was then esteemed evil, and the source of evil, and
was reprobated accordingly. It was evil, because generally
v Ko.1 <t*\o<j(i)tMTov teal ^iXcx/"^* /col QMOtov rbv aiT&r dt/rarar
elvai 6 -yAp ^tX^dorot xai 0<X<xrw/iarof A to 0tX<xru>/xarof Taxru* <cal
*0 W <t>i\oxpfoaLTot l drd-yojt AdiKoi. '0 to Adixot tit ptv Qiov drfoiot tit to
Tout TapdvoMot. Demopkili Similitudines.
62 THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION
proceeding from a grasping, sordid, selfish spirit. It was the
source of evil, because the great exciter of fraud, knavery, and
violence. It is in more moral communities alone, where the
real springs of action are not selfish, and where a desire for
the good of others is one of the chief movers, animating the
exertions, and giving a tone to the feelings and actions of the
whole body, that the virtuous and liberal mind, sympathizes
with and approves the conduct of the man, who gives his days
to labor, and his nights to engrossing care, for the purpose of
increasing his gains. There, such a life is not deemed selfish,
sordid, or unhappy, because there, it is known generally to
proceed from a totally opposite spirit, and to have for its sus-
taining principle, the welfare of others, rather than of the
individual ; and there, it is esteemed praiseworthy, because
there, its general tendency is good, not evil. There, too,
ambition alone may, no doubt, lead those who want other
motives into the paths of sober industry and frugality, because
the desire of excelling in whatever is attempted, must impel
individuals actuated by it, to every pursuit that other men
gain credit by. It is not perhaps the object gained, so much
as the gaining of it, which gives it value in their eyes. But,
it is only where such conduct procures consideration, arid
respect, that we can expect it will be steadily pursued by such
persons. Where patient and assiduous industry, and un-
deviating integrity, procure the highest name, and fame, they
will be followed by many who value them not in themselves.
But this observation only proves, that we have to seek for the
general course of action of the individual, in the circumstances
determining that of the society.
In modern times, again, and in particular communities, mar-
riage and offspring, and the consequent desire of family
aggrandizement, may often succeed in imposing on those, to
whom the welfare of others is naturally of little moment, the
necessity of providing for that welfare, and therefore may often
generate and keep up a much stronger attention to the cares
of futurity, than could be excited by a mere regard to self
interest. But, it is to be observed, that the mode in which
the passions prompting to marriage will operate, must depend
on the feelings, and consequently, manners, pervading the
THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION 63
society. When the general feelings and morals become cor-
rupt, marriage will never be sought after, by men in easy
circumstances, for the mere pleasures of sense. Socrates re-
marks this to his son, when pointing out the obligations he
>\\vil him for giving him being 1 and every pure voluptuary is
ivuily to curse, with Eloisa, "all human ties."
The indulgences to which these passions prompt, when the
ngs become purely selfish, will, indeed, I suspect, be found
to be the great weakeners of this very principle. Out of the
heart are the issues of life, and the evils to which they give
rise are the worst of any, because they contaminate the sources
of all healthy energy and activity, at the very fountain head.
It is to them, that Horace, in my opinion, truly traces, the
load of mischief which in his time pressed on Rome, and which
finally overwhelmed her ;
" Fsecunda culpse secula nuptias
Primum inquinavere et genus et domos :
Hoc fonte derivata clades
Inque patres populumque fluxit."
Even on the supposition of legitimate offspring, it is only in
countries where the general sentiment applauds that course of
action, that the man actuated by mere self interest, can be sup-
posed to pride himself on rearing up and providing for a
family, in preference to enjoying, without restraint, all the
pleasures he may be able to procure. Cool, calculating, self
interest, would thus speak. " Who knoweth whether his son
shall be a wise man or a fool ? Yet shall he have rule over
all his labor, wherein he hath labored, and wherein he hath
shewed himself wise under the sun. This is also vanity.
Whereof I perceive that there is nothing, better than that a
man should rejoice in his own works : for that is his portion :
for who shall bring him to see what shall be after him : it is
good and comely for one to eat and to drink, and to enjoy the
good of all his labor that he taketh under the sun, all the days
of his life, which God giveth him, for it is his portion." We
1 Kol pv ov TUV ye dQpo&ia lwv (veica waiSotroieiffOat rofo d.0pwirovi uroXa/i/Sdrm.
/Tel TOVTOV ye TUV droXix^rwv fieffral niv al 6Sol /M0rd W rd ofc^fiara. X< i
Memorabilia.
64 THE EFFECTIVE DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION
find accordingly that in states where mere selfish enjoyment is
the chief principle of action, that the interests of posterity are
neglected. Thus, among the Koman writers, the heir is always
represented in an invidious light, and to save for him is re-
presented as a folly. The writings of Horace, and the con-
temporary poets, throughout, exemplify the prevalence of this
feeling.
" Parcus ob hseridis curam
Assidet insano. "
For a frightful picture of causes and effects, in this particular,
the epigram of Martial to Titullus beginning,
" .Rape, congere, aufer, etc."
might be quoted. But, it is time to conclude a digression, on
which perhaps I have somewhat prematurely entered.
We shall then assume that there are motives, as above enu-
merated, derived from the principles of human nature, acting
on all men, and exciting them to expend what they presently
possess in providing for future wants, as there are others,
derived from the same source, tempting them to lay it out in
the gratification of their immediate wants. The strength of
the effective desire of accumulation, in any man or society of
men, or this desire manifested in action, is determined by the
preponderance of the one class of motives, over the other. It
is manifested, and may be measured, by the willingness of the
individual, or individuals, to lay out a certain amount to-day,
in order to produce the double of that amount at a period
more or less remote, that is, at the expiration of one, two, three,
etc. years.
[In this chapter Rae does not make sufficiently clear that it is a certain
particular sort of regard for others the desire " to endow the future "
for them which chiefly supports the accumulative principle. It is to be
noted also that the phrase " social and benevolent affections " has no specific
applicability as a technical term in this connection. This very form of words
has been employed by one writer on economics to denote those traits of
character which lead one to spend all in the present, entertaining one's
friends, and the like. The poorest people in any community are as a rule
good hearted and give freely to any one in need. This is one of the chief
things which keep them poor. Individual selfishness enlightened by the
reason plays a larger rOle in economic life than Rae gives it credit for. But
his interest here being sociological rather than individualistic, he could
hardly distribute his emphasis otherwise.]
CHAPTER VII.
OF SOME OF THE PHENOMENA ARISING FROM THE DIF-
FERENT DEGREES OF STRENGTH OF THE EFFECTIVE
DESIRE OF ACCUMULATION IN DIFFERENT SOCIETIES.
THE effective desire of accumulation is of different degrees of
:igth, not only in different societies, as compared with each
other, but also in the several individuals composing the same
society as compared together. Disregarding, however, for the
present, the effects produced on the formation of instruments,
11 (Jin diversities in the strength of this principle among individ-
uals in the same society, we are, in this chapter, to endeavor
to trace solely some of those resulting from the operation of
causes varying its strength in different societies. As has been
already stated, there are three other causes operating in the
formation of instruments ; the quantity and quality of the
materials owned by any particular society ; the progress which
inventive faculty has made in it; and the rate of the
wages paid the laborer. The first of these depending on the
original constitution of the whole globe, and its different
regions, and the correspondence between these and the cor-
poreal system of man, is determined by circumstances, the con-
ration of which would be foreign to the present inquiry.
i regard to our subject it is to be taken as an important
1'ut ultimate fact. The causes on which the progress of tin-
itivo faculty seems chiefly to depend, will form the subject
of a subsequent chapter. At present, the extent of that
progress is to be received simply as a circumstance of ad-
mitted importance.
I
66 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
The rate of the wages of labor, the last of the causes affect-
ing the formation of instruments, though a subject of investiga-
tion in itself highly interesting, and closely connected with
this whole inquiry, is not, as has been already stated, to be
otherwise considered in these investigations, than as an existing
circumstance, the operation of which is also of importance in
the determination of the extent to which the stock of materials,
in possession of any society, will be wrought up by it, but the
laws regulating which lie beyond our prescribed limits. So
considered, a low rate of wages may be esteemed, in its direct
effects, as producing the same results as an improvement in
the quality of the materials operated on, or an extension of
the power to operate on them, through an advance in the pro-
gress of invention. All these cause the same returns to be
produced from a less expenditure, or greater returns from the
same expenditure. They all, therefore, place a greater range
of materials within compass of the accumulative principle, and
occasion the construction of a larger amount of instruments.
The advance of invention, however, differs from a lowering in
the rate of wages, in being a quantity to the increase of which
we can set no bounds, whereas, we soon arrive at a limit to
the possible diminution of the rate of wages. In the principles
on which they depend, and in their ulterior consequences they
differ, I believe it will be found, still more widely.
The first example I shall take, of the effect of circum-
stances in moulding the characters of communities, and of
these again, in determining the extent to which they carry
the formation of instruments, will be that of the American
Indian.
The life of the hunter seems unfavorable to the perfect
developement of the accumulative principle. In this state
man may be said to be necessarily improvident, and regardless
of futurity, because in it, the future presents nothing, which
can be with certainty either foreseen, or governed. The
hunting grounds are the sources from which, among hunters,
the means of subsistence are drawn. But these belong to the
nation or the tribe, which alone therefore, can make more
abundant provision for futurity by securing to itself a domain
more extensive, or better supplied with wild animals ; or meet
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 67
poverty, by being restricted to one more narrow, or barren.
As regards his future means of living, every member of such
a community thinks of nothing but whether the supply of
game will be plentiful or scanty ; in the one case, he knows
that he will enjoy abundance, in the other that he must endure
want. In such societies therefore, the view can never be
directed to any distant future good, which present exertion
may secure to the individual, but is confined to what, by that
exertion may be added to the power, or the territory of the
tribe. What applies to the individual hunter, applies to his
family. Their comfort depends less on his particular exer-
tions, than on circumstances affecting the whole band, or little
nation, to which he belongs. It is only in infancy that the
wants of the young savage are, to any great extent, provided
fur by his parents. Afterwards he feasts, or fasts, like every
other member of the community, as abundance, or scarcity
reigns in the camp. That camp, indeed, may be said to form
the family of the Indian. His whole thoughts, and affections
centre there, nor has he any cares for a distant futurity, either
for himself, or his offspring, separated from the common suffer-
ings or enjoyments of his tribe.
Were the causes determining the future good or evil flow-
ing to each of these great families, to be within reach of the
energies of the individuals composing them, they would have a
steady aim for their exertions, and having the means, might
acquire the habit of purchasing future plenty and security, by
present toil and privation, and of tracing out with certainty,
remote consequences to immediate acts. But this is a mode
f thought and action, to which the circumstances of their con-
dition are opposed. As the utmost prudence, foresight and
fortitude, can but little affect the future welfare of the
individual, so, their power to promote the prosperity of tin*
society, is limited and precarious. 1
a tribe of hunters occupy a healthy territory, and one
jilt-ntifully supplied with game, they are pressed on by others,
ic foregoing should be compared with Rao's position on inli\ -Dualism,
ily aggrandizement," and " social and benevolent affections," in the pre-
ceding chapter.]
68 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
eager to seize on these advantages, and so are continually
engaged in destructive wars. While the individuals compos-
ing such a tribe can slaughter their foes, that is, the surround-
ing tribes, or can drive them to a distance, they want for
nothing. The defeat of their own tribe, is the only calamity
they have to dread. This calamity is every now and then
overtaking them.
War is always a game of hazard. In such a state of society
it is peculiarly hazardous. There the art of war is surprise.
The scanty population which the chase can alone maintain, is
divided into small bands, living widely apart mere points in
a vast continuity of wilderness. In such situations warfare
can never be open. The attacking party must advance with
secrecy ; were they to make their approach known, their
enemies would only wait for them, if convinced of their own
superiority ; otherwise, they would retire, and, if acting
prudently and skilfully, never suffer themselves to be seen,
unless to strike their foes, themselves being safe, in some well-
'Conducted ambush. But where success depends upon conceal-
ment, and surprise, it also depends on chance. No precautions
can succeed in always guarding a small band, encamped in the
midst of a great forest, from being unexpectedly assailed. No
precautions can prevent the track of a party advancing
through an enemy's country, from being occasionally dis-
covered. Victory, or defeat, and all that follow them, depend
on the slightest accident. Fortune is a goddess, on whose
influence the schemes of the most skilful and greatest captains
.are always in some measure dependent, but here she reigns
supreme.
The effects of these circumstances are increased by the
character of the laws of war of the savage. His wars are wars
of extermination. They cannot well be otherwise. Were he
pressed to defend what he thinks requires no defence, but is
prepared alike to execute on others or suffer himself, he might
,so do from the necessity of the case, the plea which man
always urges for every evil he inflicts on his fellows. He can
neither safely let his enemies go, nor possibly retain them
captive. In the former case they would be as much to be
dreaded as ever, for in the woods half a dozen men may make
IN ACCUMULATIVE STREN 7 GTH 69
war upon a nation, as wars are there conducted. That is,
they may waylay, surprise, and slaughter detached parts.
Nor can he retain captives, for they would both be use-
less, and also must escape. A plunge into the surrounding
forest sets them free. Hence it is not conquest, as with other
warriors, but destruction, that is his aim, and what he executes
on others, when he has the power, he sees continually im-
pending over him, from them, when fortune gives them the
power.
Thus the whole existence of the hunter is chequered by
quick changing extremes. Abundance, famine, the fierce joys
of victory, the horrors of surprise and defeat, rapidly succeed
each other, in an order which he can neither pretend to fore-
see, nor direct. Like all men in similar circumstances, he
refers the events, of which his being is the sport, to the con-
tinual and capricious agency of supernatural powers. All the
i:< > M 1 that happens to him, is from their having been propitious
is designs, and from his having rightly interpreted their
omens; all the evil that befalls him, arises, in his conception,
from their hostility, or from his having mistaken, or neglected,
some vision or token they sent him. The warrior turns back,
in the middle of an expedition, if his sleep be disturbed by a
dream betokening evil ; the unsuccessful hunter accuses neither
his unsteady hand, nor imperfect sight, but some magical
influence hanging on his weapon, which only the priest or sor-
r can therefore remove. The direction of all events whose
arrival is distant, seems thus to the hunter of the woods
to lie entirely beyond his control ; and, instead of endeavoring
to make the ease, or abundance of the present, provide for
the evils of the future, he prides himself in enjoying the
good of to-day undisturbed by a single care, and in feeling
ami knowing, that he can bear the ill of tomorrow without a
murmur,
Hence the Indian has a character altogether his own.
n^ himself hurried mi ly the course of events, not direct-
in- it, he thinks as little of refraining from the pleasures that
se may offer him, as of shrinking from the pains to whieh
it may expose him, and indulges, therefore, without restraint,
in the enjoyments of the hour. His intellectual faculties,,
70 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
unaccustomed to deduce remote consequences from immediate
causes, and still less accustomed to adopt as a ground for
action, and to watch carefully, and anxiously, any concatena-
tion of the sort, are feeble ; either in themselves, or from
inaction. His passions, on the contrary, are strong. Un-
accustomed to reflection, the warm and generous feelings of
affection and gratitude, as well as the darker ones of hatred
and revenge, are often formed hastily, and on inadequate
grounds, but while they last they are exceedingly vehement.
His tribe forms the point in which all these feelings centre ; it
is in fact his family, with which all his joys and sorrows are
in common.
An attention to the effects naturally flowing from this
character, will explain many circumstances in the present con-
dition, and past history of these tribes, which are in them-
selves interesting, and which are closely connected with our
subject. Of all those circumstances, none is more remarkable,
than their neglecting, or refusing, to adopt the arts of the new
neighbors, which the discovery by Europeans of the country
they inhabit brought, and has kept in contact with them.
Surrounded as are the scattered wrecks of those once numerous
tribes, by a great people, rapidly converting the soil, and
almost whatever grows on it, or is hid beneath it, into instru-
ments capable of plentifully supplying every variety of future
want, they are yet unable to imitate them. This deficiency
among them of the effective desire of accumulation, the prin-
ciple leading to the formation of instruments, seems to arise
both from a want of motives to exertion, and from a want of
the principles and habits of action which would lead to effec-
tive exertion.
The settlement of their country by the European race, has
in itself, gradually diminished, or entirely destroyed, the
political importance of their tribes, and consequently, the ties
binding together the members of each of these communities,
and leading them to feel, and to act, in common. Nor have
these been replaced by others. Those growing out of the
family relations, in other states of society, the anxious pro-
spective care of the parent, and the exertions, the pleasures,
and the duties thence arising, have not had time to spring
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 71
up. Hence the Indian continues to seek shelter in apathy,
and to regard life and its enjoyments, both for himself and his
children, as did his forefathers, gifts to be made the most
<>t while they last, but which no care can secure, and which,
therefore, it is his business not to provide for the continuance
of, but to learn calmly to resign when called on. He thus
sits, listless, in the midst of the incessant activity and in-
dustry that surround him, incapable of discovering an adequate
cause for the never-ceasing care and toil. The motives that
:e the white man, though possessed of means that would
enable him with his more needy brethren abundantly to enjoy
present, to devote himself, instead, to labors to which no
season brings a respite, in order to bring about events that
may provide for the wants of some remote and uncertain
futurity, are to him incomprehensible. Instead of applauding
the conduct, in his secret soul he censures the mean, timorous,
and, as it seems to him, selfish spirit, which prompts it.
But, besides a want of the motives exciting to provide for
tin* needs of futurity, through means of the abilities of the
present, there is a want of the habits of perception
and action, leading to a constant connexion in the mind of
6 distant points, and of the series of events serving to
unite them. Even therefore, if motives be awakened capable
of producing the exertion necessary to effect this connexion,
e remains the task of training the mind to think, and act,
so as to establish it.
These deficiencies in the motives to exertion, and in the
li.iliits of action of the Indian, serve to account for the
("ndition of the remnants of the tribes scattered over the
North American continent, in situations where they are in
contact with the white man. There is a general similarity
throughout, that will, I believe, render an example taken
i one part of the continent, sufficiently illustrative of the
state of the whole.
Upon the banks of the St. Lawrence, there are several little
Indian villages. They are surrounded, in general, by a good
deal of land from which the wood seems to have been long
: pa ted, and have, besides, attached to them, extensive
tracts of forest. The cleared land is rarely, I may almost
72 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
say never, cultivated, nor are any inroads made in the forest
for such a purpose. The soil is, nevertheless, fertile, and were
it not, manure lies in heaps by their houses. Were every
family to enclose half an acre of ground, till it, and plant in it
potatoes and maize, it would yield a sufficiency to support
them one half the year. They suffer too, every now and then,
extreme want, insomuch that, joined to occasional intemper-
ance, it is rapidly reducing their numbers. This, to us, so
strange apathy proceeds not, in any great degree, from repug-
nance to labor; on the contrary, they apply very diligently to
it, when its reward is immediate. Thus, besides their peculiar
occupations of hunting and fishing, in which they are ever
ready to engage, they are much employed in the navigation of
the St. Lawrence, and may be seen laboring at the oar, or
setting with the pole, in the large boats used for the purpose,
;ind always furnish the greater part of the additional hands,
necessary to conduct rafts through some of the rapids. Nor
is the obstacle aversion to agricultural labor. This is no
doubt a prejudice of theirs ; but mere prejudices always yield,
principles of action cannot be created. Where the returns
from agricultural labor are speedy, and great, they are also
agriculturists. Thus, some of the little islands on lake St.
Francis, near the Indian village of St. Eegis, are favorable
to the growth of maize, a plant yielding a return of a hundred
fold, and forming, even when half ripe, a pleasant and sub-
stantial repast. Patches of the best land on these islands are,
therefore, every year, cultivated by them, for this purpose.
As their situation renders them inaccessible to cattle, no fence
is required ; were this additional outlay necessary, I suspect
they would be neglected, like the commons adjoining their
village. These had apparently, at one time, been under crop.
The cattle of the neighboring settlers would now, however,
destroy any crop, not securely fenced, and this additional
necessary outlay, consequently bars their culture. It removes
them to an order of instruments of slower return, than that
which corresponds to the strength of the effective desire of
accumulation, in this little society.
It is here deserving of notice, that what instruments of this
sort they do form, are completely formed. The small spots of
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 73
corn they cultivate are thoroughly weeded and hoed. A little
neglect in this part would, indeed, reduce the crop very much :
of this experience has made them perfectly aware, and they
act accordingly. It is evidently not the necessary labor, that
is the obstacle to much more extended culture, but the distant
return from that labor. I am assured, indeed, that, among
some of the more remote tribes, the labor thus expended, much
exceeds that given by the whites. The same portions of
ground being cropped without remission, and manure not being
used, they would scarce yield any return, were not the soil
most carefully broken and pulverized, both with the hoe and
the hand. In such a situation, a white man would clear a
b piece of ground. It would perhaps scarce repay his labor
the first year, and he would have to look for his reward in
succeeding years. On the Indian again, succeeding years are
too distant to make sufficient impression, though, to obtain
what labor may bring about in the course of a few months, he
toils even more assiduously than the white man. The wages
of labor with him, are lower than with the white man, for his
wants are fewer. But for this, the range of materials, coming
within reach of his effective desire of accumulation, would be
i more limited than it is, and the amount of instruments
formed by him, less.
Similar observations will apply to all the remnants of the
race, scattered through the parts of the North American
unit, to which the industry and enterprise of the white
man, have brought modern arts and civilization. They can no
win -re be said to form an agricultural people. All the great
tracts of land, reserved for their use, throughout the continent,
retain their native forest character ; and it is only at great
intervals, where spots of soil appear offering peculiar facilities
M!I i vat ion, that the riches of the earth are even partially
_rht into action. When such materials are neglected, it is
to be supposed that others, requiring greater strength
of t he accumulative principle to form them into instruments,
will l)e put to use. None, therefore, even of tin- most < < minimi
handicrafts, which they see the white man continually exercis-
ing, are to he found am<>i 1L r them. The axe and the knife, aiv
almost their only tools. Their houses, their furniture, their
74 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
clothing and utensils are all similar, and of a sort to serve only
the needs of the moment. Nothing is either reserved or pro-
vided for a futurity in any ways distant. Their stock of
instruments being thus confined to such as are of the most
quickly returning orders, a vast mass of materials is neglected,
which by another race, governed by other principles of action,
are converted, or converting, into the means of abundantly
supplying the necessities and enjoyments of a numerous popu-
lation. They thus afford a striking instance, of the effects
resulting from a great deficiency of strength in the accumula-
tive principle. They have skill, adequate to the formation
of instruments capable of ministering to the necessities and
comforts of a numerous population, for with the powers of fire,
the axe, and the hoe, the great agents in converting the forest
to the field, they are well acquainted ; they have industry,
content with a very moderate, if immediate reward ; yet, from
inadequate strength in this principle, these all lie inert, and
useless, in the midst of the greatest abundance of materials ;
and, the means for existence in the time to come not being
provided, as what was future becomes present, want and misery
arrive with it, and these tribes are disappearing before them.
The white man robs their woods and waters of the stores with
which nature had replenished them, and the arts, by the com-
munication of which he would compensate for the spoliation,
are despised.
Though the civilized man may be truly said to have been
the greatest enemy of the Indian, yet he has not always been
so wilfully, and, in many instances, he has endeavored to
be his benefactor. But, though his endeavors may occasion-
ally, for a time, have arrested the progress of the evil, they
have never altogether removed it, or been of permanent ad-
vantage. Of all attempts of the kind, that of the Jesuits, in
Paraguay, seems to have been productive of most good, and to
have given the fairest promise of ultimate success. This
partial success is evidently to be traced, to the usual talent of
those fathers, in clearly perceiving the actual circumstances of
the condition, and disposition of the men with whom they had
to deal, and to their usual ability in converting these circum-
stances into means of accomplishing the ends they had in view.
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 75
Their plan presents two great features. They wrought upon
the Indians through that which was alone in them capable of
exciting to extended action, their love of their several nations,
and devotion to their interests. They took every means to
show them that they could, and would, promote these interests ;
and thus identifying themselves with the national existence
and prosperity, transferred to their order a large portion of
the strong feelings arising from benefits received from, and
obligations and duties owing to his tribe, which are the great
movers, and rulers, of the being of the Indian.
The efforts of the missionaries seem first to have been
directed to convince the chiefs, and leaders, of the several
tribes to which they penetrated, of the sincerity of their desire
to be of service to them. As the messengers of a religion,
promising peace on earth, and immortal happiness after death,
they had claims on their attention which are foreign to our
subject. Besides these however, as the possessors of the arts
and powers of civilization, they had others, which were more
palpable to the comprehension of the savage. Europeans were
known by this unfortunate race, as possessors of powers so
great, as to appear supernatural ; but they had hitherto been
known only as enemies and oppressors, the bearers of unspeak-
able calamities or utter ruin. Once then they were convinced,
that the white men who now came to them, were really
His, and were desirous of exerting those powers for their
'rvation and happiness, which had hitherto been employed
their destruction, they were ready to welcome them as
r best benefactors, and most powerful protectors. The
1 intelligence, prudence, and fortitude of the fathers did
not desert them on this occasion, and, though not without the
expense of the martyrdom of several of the order, they suc-
ceeded in impressing the Indians with the belief, that they
were really their friends. The rest of the task was compara-
ly easy. Convinced on this head, the savages willingly,
and immediately, became docile disciples. Fully satisfied of
advantages which European arts give to a people, they set
i selves with zeal to acquire and practise them, for the
benefit of their several tribes. Though not for his individual
advantage, or that of his family, would the Indian sacrifice
76 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
present pleasure or embrace present toil ; for the good of his
nation he had been taught, and was ready, to bear or forbear
any thing. The Jesuits had, therefore, only to teach what it
was necessary to do, or endure. The details they have left us
of their progress, are generally interesting, sometimes amusing,
not unfrequently, to those unacquainted with the peculiarities
of the Indian character, almost incredible.
They themselves, in the first instance, taught their proselytes
how agricultural operations were to be performed, by taking
the spade, and other instruments, in their own hands. Hut,
when thus, by precept and example, they had brought them to
be able to execute the several operations of ploughing, sowing,
reaping, etc., the difficulty was but half over. Without the
constant superin tendency and vigilance of their instructors,
they never would have practised them. Thus, at first, if these
gave up to them the care of the oxen with which they
ploughed, their indolent thoughtlessness would probably leave
them at evening still yoked to the implement. Worse than
this, instances occurred where they cut them up for supper,
thinking, when reprehended, that they sufficiently excused
themselves by saying, they were hungry.
By the indefatigable perseverance, and dexterous manage-
ment of the missionaries, they were, however, at last, brought
so to labor the earth, as, in that fertile soil and warm climate,
to produce abundant returns. They were also at peace with
one another, and feared by their enemies. The tranquillity,
the security, and the plenty, they thus enjoyed, gave the
Jesuits additional claims on their confidence and gratitude,
which the good fathers seem to have taken care should be
made sufficiently apparent to them. Hence it was, as Charle-
voix tells us, that they thought they could never sufficiently
testify their affection and gratitude for those, who had rescued
them from barbarism and idolatry, and who, in spite of the
most severe persecution, and the greatest toil, had procured
them all the advantages they enjoyed. They continually
recalled to mind the miserable state from which they had been
brought : the parents instructed their children, and they saw
with their own eyes, the condition of the neighboring nations,
who had not participated in their happiness. It was by no
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 77
means wonderful, as he continues, that these things produced
an attachment for the missionaries, that was without bounds.
The additional authority and influence thus acquired, they
employed in enforcing stricter obedience, and increased in-
dustry, and gradually leading on their disciples to the practice
of the finer and more difficult arts. In this they perfectly
succeeded, so that there were every where to be seen, says the
same author, workshops of gilders, painters, sculptors, gold-
smiths, watchmakers, carpenters, joiners, dyers, etc. In the
exercise of these useful and ornamental arts, we must not
<>se the artists were animated by the motives that excite
similar labors elsewhere. They seem scarcely to have had an
idea of personal property, or individual gain, but to have been
as mere children, looking up to the Jesuits for every thing,
and ready to do every thing for them, or submit to any thing
I'rmii them.
" These fathers," says Ulloa, " have to visit the houses, to
examine what is really wanted ; for, without this care, the
Indians would never look after any thing. They must be
present too, when animals are slaughtered, not only that the
meat may be equally divided, but that nothing may be lost."
"It has been necessary," says Charlevoix, "to appoint superin-
ii'nts, who inspect every thing accurately, and see if they
>usy, if their cattle are in good condition, etc. The labors
of the women are regulated, as well as those of the men. At
tlif lt^innin<r of the week, there is distributed among them, a
certain quantity of wool, and cotton, which they are obliged to
return, on Saturday evening, ready for the loom. But, not-
withstanding all this care and superintendence, and all the
precautions which are taken to prevent any want of the
necessaries of life, the missionaries are sometimes much em-
barrassed. This proceeds from three defects, of which the
Indians have not yet been corrected, their improvidence,
indolence, 1 and want of economy; so that, it often happens,
lolence and improvidence are, in our system, reduced to one defect.
nee is, the not laying out present labor to secure future abundance.
i'l.-nce, the squandering present abundance, in disregard of future
They both proceed from the predominance of the present over
th< tut in. , the low strength of the effective desire of accumulation.
78 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
that they do not reserve themselves a sufficiency of grain, even
for seed. As for their other provisions, were they not well
looked after, they would soon be without wherewithal to
support life."
The mode of operation, which the Jesuits adopted, had un-
doubtedly the advantage of bringing out all the energies of
the Indian. He was thus induced willingly, and therefore
zealously and successfully, to apply his powers to the acquisi-
tion and practice of European arts, and, while the missionaries
maintained their power, and formed a part of the polity which
their sagacity and perseverance had established, it gave every
token of prosperity and vigor. Their prudence and providence
led into efficient action the desire, which every individual felt
for the future prosperity of his tribe. The powers of the
social and benevolent affections of the mass had free course,
and what was wanting in intellectual energy being supplied by
the fathers, the desire of accumulation of the whole body
became sufficiently effective and strong, to form a larger stock
of instruments. What, therefore, might, at first sight, strike
us as the most difficult part of the project, the establishing a
community of goods and interests, was, in reality, that which
rendered it of easy execution. With all the advantages
attending such a form of society, the freedom from strife,
jealousy, contention, and care, enjoyed by the great majority,
it had also the disadvantage of requiring, and therefore exciting,
in the multitude, little or no exertion of the intellectual facul-
ties. The converts had become, or were becoming, mere
machines in the hands of the missionaries. The whole stock
of instruments formed by the common labor, was in the
possession of the fathers, and the share which the Indians
received of the returns, depended on their pleasure. They
were in fact regarded as beings of a superior order, whose
actions were of necessity right, and whose slightest wishes
were laws.
If we judge from what is known of the state of the
American continent at its discovery, it would seem that
this form of society, is that which the hunter, changing
directly to the agriculturist, naturally assumes. His devotion
to the interests of the tribe, passes there into affection for the
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 79
person, and blind obedience to the will of the chief. The
accounts we have of the condition of the kingdoms that the
Spaniards found established in the most fertile regions of
the continent, describe the power which the rulers pos-
sessed, and the reverence paid them, as excessive. The
people seem to have, in general, approached the condition
of slaves, and to have had a large share of the defects of
that condition, a want of intelligence and energy.
Our own barbarian ancestors, such as they are described by
Tacitus, have been often likened to the savage aborigines of
North America. But, though there may be some points of
resemblance, the parallel will be found to fail, in several
important particulars, which, as they seem to have operated
through the influence they have exerted on that principle, the
effects of which we are at present considering, may be allowed
to claim our attention for a little.
The race, whose occupation of the forests and wildernesses
to the northward of the Roman Empire, made these, in
the days of Rome's strength, to be regarded as the regions of
mystery and wonder, in those of its weakness, of well-founded
and increasing anxiety and dread, were properly shepherd
warriors. Though the excitement of the chase frequently
gave fit employment to their ardent spirits, and its toils to
thrir hardy frames, and though its products ministered to
many of their wants, their cattle were yet their main support,
and to provide for the sustenance of these, their great busi-
ness. But the possession of flocks and herds, implies a
considerable degree of care and foresight, both in protecting
and making provision for them, and in avoiding to consume
too great a number of them. It also implies the existence of
private property to a large amount, and, consequently, of
Uth in the ties binding families together. The parent, if
he desires to see his offspring enjoy plenty, must exert himself
to procure it for them. The performance of this duty gives
claims on their gratitude, and draws closer the connexion
between them. The sort of life they lead too, demands less of
severe exertion, and affords longer intervals of ease. It brings
11 together in larger bands and societies, of which each
member has rights to defend and interests to provide for, and
80 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
thus produces the rudiments of law, justice, and the policy of
civilized society.
War may be said to be natural to them, as well as to
hunters, but it is always open ; concealment is out of the
question ; their greater numbers, and the necessity of having
always with them a large train of domestic animals, render it
impracticable. They have not therefore to fear being sur-
prised and overcome, before they can have time to defend
themselves. Hence, the members of a numerous and warlike
pastoral nation, live in comparative security. They see that
chance has less influence, prudence and resolution more. They
perceive that they are not altogether the sport of destiny, but
that their fate depends, in a great measure, on themselves.
Their minds are less shaken, and their judgments less clouded,
by superstitious fears and imaginings. The greater security
they enjoy renders them also less relentlessly cruel. Utterly
to exterminate their enemies is not necessary ; to break, and
drive them off, is sufficient. When, therefore, the fury of the
fight is over, mercy has, with them, a place.
All these circumstances pertaining to the condition of
pastoral nations tend strongly to excite the social and benevo-
lent affections, and the powers of reason and reflection, and to
give scope to their action among them. The pastoral ancestors
of the present European race were fierce, cruel, and vindictive
barbarians ; yet, spite of these forbidding features of their
character, we can as distinctly trace to them the sources of all
the more generous and softer virtues, that give happiness to
their descendants, as we can the free and independent spirit
that bestows on them liberty and security. Such nations
have, therefore, naturally a much higher effective desire of
accumulation than nations of mere hunters. The strength of
this principle, in fact, seems with them in general, so great, as
to incline them to form instruments requiring a much superior
degree of providence and self-denial, to that indicated by the
breeding of cattle. They are prevented from doing so, by
their wandering life, and by the wars in which they are neces-
sarily constantly engaged. When, for instance, they are settled
in a country suited to agriculture, and to which the knowledge
of the art has penetrated, they have a tendency to become
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 81
agriculturists; that is, to change the land, from which they
draw their subsistence, from an instrument yielding a large
return, in proportion to the labor bestowed on it, to one yield-
i still larger return, though requiring proportionally more
labor and time, and being, therefore, of a more slowly return-
rder.
But such a change, though increasing the whole population
of the state, leaves fewer in it who can be spared from labor,
anil, consequently, fewer soldiers. In pastoral nations, almost
all the men are warriors; in agricultural, only a few can
be withdrawn from the labors of the field. The latter are
therefore, naturally inferior to the former in military prowess,
and are consequently subject to be conquered and destroyed by
thriii. Such seems to have been the fate impending over
Gaul, from the side of Germany, when the appearance of
ir gave another turn to affairs. The Gauls, we learn from
him, though then inferior, had once been superior, in military
AH. to the Germans. It appears likely, that the revolu-
ti"ii had been occasioned, by their becoming an agricultural
people, which they, in a great measure, were, in his time. The
mans, again, preserved themselves from the fatal effects of
i a change, by the singular national custom, or constitution,
that obliged them all, every year, to exchange the lands they
respectively occupied. By this constant transfer of instru-
j i I'M its, and of the materials of which they might be formed,
they took away every inducement to work them up into
orders of slow return, and confined the members of the
nmnity to the pastoral condition, which experience had
tless instructed them, was most favorable to military
In the times of the Caesars, Europe was thus divided, by an
irregular line running east and west, into two great parts, the
one occupied by the barbarians, the other by the Empire. To
northward of this line, were many rude nations, strong in
Mrnial and corporeal energies of the individuals composing
thrni, and in the willingness of each to devote his abilities to
'ts conducive to the good of all, but whose strength was
ly expended in furious intestine wars. These contests,
ive as they were, did not, however, occasion any
F
82 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
progressive diminution of the vigor of the whole body ; it was.
only the surplus powers of the parts that thus ran to waste.
The strength of the people of the empire was, on the contrary,
derived from their union in one great body, and the power
thence resulting of the energies of the whole being directed to
any particular point. But this union, as it had been produced
by compulsion, augured weakness in the several parts, and was
the cause of weakness. What each contributed to the common
good was not of will, but from necessity, and, in the strife thus
arising, every man learned to consider his own good as separate
from that of all others. Hence a continually increasing separa-
tion of interests, and consequent continual decrease of power
and general decline. The gradually increasing weakness of the
empire, while the strength of the nations to the northward, if
not augmenting, remained at least unimpaired, rendered the
arrival of a period when the former should be overpowered by
the latter inevitable. These barbarians believed, that the
riches of the earth belonged, of right, to the best; according
to their creed, the bravest. Their most powerful and warlike
tribes, therefore, possessing themselves of the more fertile
regions, those bordering on the line dividing them from the
empire, pressed violently against it, and, opposed by a force
continually diminishing, at length burst through it.
Three great events, each leading on the other, would seem
to have been the necessary consequence of this revolution. Of
these, the first was the occupation of the whole continent by
the barbarians, and the driving back the still onward-urging
host of their brethren ; the adoption by them of the arts which
had previously nourished in the empire, and their becoming an
agricultural people, was the second ; and their running the
chance of being in turn overpowered by the northern warriors,
the third. Until the arrival of the first period, when, the
continent having been completely overrun and ravaged by the
barbarian multitude, had assumed a form closely approximating
to that of the territories they had formerly occupied, there
could be no approach to rest, but the tide must still advance.
When the receptacle vacant for its reception was once com-
pletely filled, the mighty mass had to recoil on itself. The
battle of Chalons fixes this period. Europe, with the exception
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 83
of the corner occupied by the Eastern Empire, and which
belonged rather to Asia than to it, seems then to have been
reduced nearly to the state of one immense cattle-pasture.
But the impetus that had been given still continued, and new
hosts crowded on to share that, of which the last fragments
had been divided. The reflux then of necessity took place.
The hosts of the west and the south, under Theodoric and
Klius, met those of the east and the north, under Attilla, on
the plains of Champaigne. The vastness of the masses and the
violence of the shock are shown by the destruction produced ;
the accounts of the period rating the slaughter variously at
from one hundred and sixty-two thousand to three hundred
thousand.
From this period the great body neither much advancing
nor receding, was agitated chiefly by fierce internal commotions.
The time when their violence terminated marks the second
period, when the general prevalence of agriculture, lessening
the number of warriors, diminished the extent and frequency
of wars. The knowledge of the elements of it, and of the
other arts, diffused throughout the various multitude that now
peopled the continent, could not forever lie dormant. It has
been already observed, that the strength of their effective
!.- ire of accumulation, had been such as to produce a tendency
among them to give greater capacity even to the materials of
which they had the command in the northern regions, though
at the expense of changing them into instruments of somewhat
slower return, by converting their lands from pasture to tillage,
tendency became inevitably stronger, as they advanced
into more fertile soils and milder climates. The revolution
i took place gradually. The exact date of the pre-
ponderance of the one condition over the other, cannot,
perhaps, be determined but by the effects produced by its
arrival. It is only in the state of hunters, or shepherds, that
nation can literally go to war with nation. In the agricultural
state, it is not the men of the nation, but a small part of them,
the soldiery, that fight. Taking this as the criterion, we might
t he reign of Charlemagne as that, in which war, as the
ness of European nations, properly ceased. The conclusion
of that monarch's reign, has sometimes been reckoned the
84 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
commencement of a period of weakness in the several states,
and of want of ability in their monarchs. The historian, it is
true, for centuries afterwards, finds no events that he esteems
great to record. His art can call up no pictures of heroes
leading armies to the field, conquering, or being conquered,
overthrowing, or establishing kingdoms. Nevertheless, if the
view we are taking is correct, it is from this era that we must
date the commencement of strength, not of weakness. The
people of Europe then began to rise in the scale of industry.
They commenced a new era, to which no one can assign a
positive termination, because it became their occupation to
conquer nature, and not man, and, to the fruits of the one
conquest, we can set no limit, whereas the utmost advantages
of the other are very speedily exhausted.
It may here be observed, that the difference of the strength
of the principle of accumulation in nations of hunters, and in
pastoral nations, seems to mark out a very opposite destiny to
a great country overrun by the one, to that which would await
it from being subdued by the other. The naturally low degree
of strength of the accumulative principle among nations of
hunters, prevents them, as we have seen, from forming instru-
ments of sufficiently slow return to embrace the materials to
which the arts of civilized life might give capacity. While in
their possession, therefore, they lie unemployed, and useless.
The progress of civilization and art over the continent of
North America, is now every day, bringing to light traces of
their former presence, and evidence, consequently, of the exist-
ence there at some remote period, of a people far superior in
these respects to the tribes that occupied all but the southern
parts, when discovered by Europeans. The question has been
asked, how did it happen that they, and the knowledge and
power they possessed, utterly perished. In other instances,
civilization has either protected its possessors, or, if they were
overcome, has reacted on their conquerors, and spreading among
them, has, so to say, subjugated and governed them in turn.
The history of our barbarian ancestors has been quoted, as a
circumstantial account of this seemingly natural progress.
But, if the principles, the operation of which forms our present
subject, be correct, they furnish a sufficient cause for the
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 85
diversity of effects flowing from the two events, and show,
that, instead of there being any reason for surprise at the
hunter of the woods disdaining the labors and rewards of
civilization, it is rather our business to inquire how he could
have been led to adopt them. Had the nations whom
the north poured forth on the south of Europe, been hunters,
and, had no extraneous cause intervened, it is not improbable,
that that continent would, even at the present day, have been
OIK* wide forest from side to side.
The third of the great events referred to, the evils and
dangers arising to the ancestors of the present inhabitants of
Europe, from their former brethren of the north and east,
when the strength of their accumulative principle led them to
put off the barbarian, and employ themselves in giving to the
materials within their reach the capabilities for the supply of
the wants of futurity which art showed that they possessed,
were felt for many centuries. The change they were then
undergoing, though it added very greatly to the total numbers
of the several nations, lessened the numbers of the warriors.
The instruments they formed being of the more slowly return-
ing orders, though the whole income from them was much
greater, the labor necessary to produce it was more than
proportionally greater, and the portion of the population left
free for the purposes of warfare was consequently less. It
were foreign to our purpose farther to allude to this cause of
cm n motion and revolution, than to observe, that the mischiefs
and dangers arising from it, seem to have been moderated by
very gradual manner in which the change took place, and
to have been counteracted, and finally overcome by the
additional power acquired through the progress of invention in
the arts of civilized life.
The next example I shall adduce, of the influence of the
accumulation principle, will be that of the Chinese Empire.
All accounts agree in ascribing to the people of this Empire, a
peculiarity running through the whole structure of their social
and domestic life, by which alone perhaps its mechanism can
be well explained, and which seems to form its great governing
and sustaining principle. Their moralists and legislators
appear to have successfully endeavored to give to the feelings,
86 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
naturally springing from the parental and family relations, an
influence and authority, far superior to what these possess
among other nations, the power and unity of a regular
system of duties and obligations. A father, as the immediate
though secondary cause of existence, is regarded with much of
the feelings that are elsewhere reserved for the infinite and
eternal fountain of all existence, power, and perfection, and,
consequently, claims, as a sacred right, a measure of love,
reverence, and obedience, that to us seems perfectly unnatural.
Both while alive, and after his death, he is reverenced, we
might say adored. His descendants form a little distinct
society bound together by the strongest ties, a system apart
from all others, having a common centre of action of its own.
What is conceived to be a reality in families, is metaphorically
applied to the whole empire, and its several parts. The
emperor is the father of his people, his affection for them as
his children is held to be the animating principle of his actions,
implicit obedience to him as their parent, who can only com-
mand what is good, is the first duty of his subjects. Each
inferior magistrate is also regarded as the father of those over
whom he rules.
The result has been so far happy, that the harshness of
despotism is somewhat tempered by the mildness of the pater-
nal character. We are so constituted, that no part can be
assumed, and habitually acted, without in some degree mould-
ing our nature to its form, and making that a reality, which
may at first have been only a fiction. It has also been happy
in the strength it has given to the connexions and affections of
those belonging to the same family, or springing from the same
stock. A man must be strongly excited to good, and deterred
from evil, by being aware that his actions and fortunes are the
objects of solicitude to every member of the little community to
whom he is bound by the ties of blood and kindredship ; that
they rejoice at whatever he accomplishes that is honorable and
happy ; and are afflicted and disgraced by his imprudencies
and errors.
But, viewing the system on another side we may perceive
that evil has sprung out of it. The blending of the characters
of parent and lord, and thus making of each head of a family
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 87
an absolute master, the judge of right and wrong, places man
in a situation dangerous to his weakness. It may encourage,
at all events it enables him to gratify without fear, whatever
vice or immorality is not necessarily open or declared, but may
have a veil, however thin, of outward decorum thrown over it.
les this, the absolute submission and unreflecting obedience
which it inculcates, are much opposed to the expansion of the
intellectual and moral powers. When all impulses are from
without, it is impossible that the mental eye should turn
steadily on the divinity within, or promptly and resolutely
execute what it dictates.
We perceive a great attempt to organize a society, animated
by the principles of love and affection, regulated by those of
virtue. The form indeed exists, but under it there is little
substance. Hence is generated a mass of apparent contradic-
tions : viewed in one light, we see a great family, wisely and
beneficently governed ; in the other, a servile herd, crouching
beneath the sharp lash of selfish despotism. On the one hand
is presented to us a people, among whom doctrines of a very
pure morality, of universal benevolence, of devotion to the
public good, are inculcated both by reward and precept ;
among whom learning is held in such esteem as to be the sure,
and, in theory at least, almost the only road to honour and
authority ; among whom the freedom of the press may be said
to have been established a thousand years j 1 among whom out-
ward decency and decorum prevail, and security and order are
tly maintained, not by military authority, but by their
own good sense quietly submitting to the rule of the civil
magistrate. On the other hand we see this same people, in
private, abandoned to gross sensuality, to drunkenness and de-
grading licentiousness ; in public, in affairs of trade and traffic,
in the business and diplomacy of the state, making their
individual advantage their sole practical rule of right and
wrong.
i ere the press is merely a brush, and the types are blocks of wood,
which a common workman carves out for a few pence, it must of necessity be
essentially free. The best proof of this is, that books for which there is a de-
mand, licentious publications for instance, are extensively circulated, not
standing all the efforts of the magistrate.
88 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
Such being the character of this singular people, our prin-
ciples would give to them a less strength of the effective desire
of accumulation than the generality of European nations, but a
greater than that of other Asiatics. This desire is lessened by
a propensity to sensual gratifications and selfish feelings, and
by a state of society where there is any thing to endanger the
security of future possession. All these produce a tendency
to seek the enjoyments of to-day, at the risk of leaving the
wants of to-morrow unprovided for. As compared with other
than European nations, however, we might expect them to
possess no inconsiderable portion of the virtues of prudence
and of self-control. The general diffusion of a tincture of
learning, and perception of something of the beauty and
obligations of moral rectitude, the consequent subjection at all
events of the more violent passions, and the great desire to
provide for the wants of their families, which the strength of
the connexion thus subsisting between parent and child en-
genders, raise them, in these respects, much above Asiatics in
general. We should, therefore, a priori, suppose, that the
instruments formed by them must be of orders of quicker
return, and embracing a less compass of materials, than those
constructed by European nations ; but of slower return, and
embracing a greater compass of materials, than those to which
the strength of the accumulative principle carries the other
nations of Asia. All who have written concerning this great
empire agree in the statement, that the necessary cost of sub-
sistence is there small, and the wages of labor low. To these
two circumstances, determining their state, is to be added a
third. The inventive faculty would appear to have been once
very active among them ; their knowledge of the arts suited to
their country is very extended.
Durability is one of the chief qualities, marking a high
degree of the effective strength of accumulation. The testi-
mony of travellers ascribes to the instruments formed by the
Chinese, a durability very inferior to similar instruments, con-
structed by Europeans. The walls of houses, we are told, unless,
of the higher ranks, are in general of unburnt bricks of clay,
or of hurdles plastered with earth ; the roofs, of reeds fastened
to laths. We can scarcely conceive more unsubstantial, or
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 89
temporary fabrics. 1 Their partitions are of paper, requiring
to be renewed every year.
A similar observation may be made, concerning their imple-
ments of husbandry, and other utensils. They are almost
entirely of wood, the metals entering but very sparingly into
their construction ; consequently they soon wear out, and
require frequent renewals. A greater degree of strength in
the effective desire of accumulation, would cause them to be
constructed of materials requiring a greater present expendi-
but being far more durable. From the same cause, much
hind, that in other countries would be cultivated, lies waste.
All travellers take notice of large tracts of land, chiefly
swamps, which continue in a state of nature. To bring a
swamp into tillage is generally a process, to complete which,
requires several years. It must be previously drained, the
surface long exposed to the sun, and many operations per-
:ed, before it can be made capable of bearing a crop.
Tin nigh yielding, probably a very considerable return for the
labor bestowed on it, that return is not made until a long time
has elapsed. The cultivation of such land implies a greater
strength of the effective desire of accumulation than exists in
empire. 2
The produce of the harvest is, as we have remarked, always
an instrument of some order or another, it is a provision for
future want, and regulated by the same laws as those to which
other means of attaining a similar end conform. It is there
fly rice, of which there are two harvests, the one in June,
the other in October. The period then of eight months,
between October and June, is that, for which provision is made
each year, and the different estimate they make of to-day and
this day eight months, will appear in the self-denial they
practise now, in order to guard against want then. The
amount of this self-denial, would seem to be small. The father
Parennin, indeed, asserts, that it is their great deficiency in
forethought and frugality in this respect, which is the cause of
1 La Harp, Vol. VIII. p. 289. Lettre* edtfanUi, Vol. X. p. 107.
imt..ii, China, Vol. II. p. -_MJ. Kllia, Embassy to China, pp. 268 and
316. The best proof perhaps is in the premiums offered for their cultivation.
$** Lettrt* tdifianttx, Vol. XI p. 026.
90 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
> and famines that frequently occur. " I believe,"
he says, " that, notwithstanding its great number of inhabitants,
china would furnish enough of grain for all, but that there is
not sufficient economy observed in its consumption, and that
tht-y employ an astonishing quantity of it in the manufacture of
the wine of the country, and of raque." As confirmative of
his observations, he remarks the number of fires occasioned by
the habit of drinking to excess before going to bed, and the
prevalence, among the lower orders, of a malady called ye-che,
produced by the same vice. 1
A document given in the Jesuit's Letters, a translation from
the Gazette of the empire in 1725, probably shows nearly
what order instruments of this sort, and therefore of all sorts,
really belong to : that is, the difference between a quantity of
rice, or of any thing else, in possession at the end of harvest,
and a quantity to be had in spring. It proceeds on the sup-
position that three bushels at the former period are equivalent,
and, in ordinary years, when there is neither famine nor
scarcity, will produce four at the latter. By purchasing at the
former period, and selling at the latter, the writer therefore
estimates, that thirty bushels will, at the end of five years,
produce more than one hundred. The estimate is perhaps a
little high, but from the nature of it, of the individual from
whom it comes, and those to whom it is addressed, it is
unreasonable to suppose that it is much too high. Taken in
conjunction with a description of a scheme for raising funds, of
which an account is subjoined, 2 it indicates that instruments in
China are about the order D.
The deficiency of the strength of the effective desire of
accumulation, is balanced by the smallness of the necessary
cost of subsistence, and wages of labor, and by the great pro-
1 Leltres edifiantes, Tom. XII. p. 199. The father Parennin seems to have
been one of the most intelligent of the Jesuits, and had the very best oppor-
tunities for observation, having spent a long life among the Chinese of all
classes. His testimony is much more to be depended on, concerning such a
fact, than that of passing travellers, whose cursory observations extend only
to what may be seen on the exterior of the habitations.
2 [Here Rae refers to a long "note" appended to the original work, which
is reproduced as " Note F " in the Appendix to this volume.]
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 91
gress which has been made in the knowledge of the arts suited
to the nature of the country and the wants of its inhabitants.
Where the returns are quick, where the instruments formed
n-quire but little time to bring the events for which they are
formed to an issue, even the defective principle of accumulation
of the Chinese is able to grasp a very large compass of
materials.
The warmth of the climate, the natural fertility of the
country, the knowledge which the inhabitants have acquired
of the arts of agriculture, and the discovery and gradual adap-
tation to every soil of a variety of the most useful vegetable
productions, enable them very speedily to draw from almost
any part of the surface, what is there esteemed an equivalent
t<> much more than the labor bestowed in tilling and cropping
it. They have commonly double, sometimes, treble harvests.
These, when they consist of a grain so productive as rice, the
usual crop, can scarce fail to yield to their skill, from almost
any portion of soil that can be at once brought into
culture, very ample returns. Accordingly there is no spot
that labor can immediately bring under cultivation, that is
not made to yield to it. Hills, even mountains, are ascended
and formed into terraces; and water, in that country the great
1 ^inductive agent, is led to every part by drains, or carried up
to it by the ingenious and simple hydraulic machines, which
have been in use from time immemorial among this singular
people. They effect this the more easily from the soil, even
in these situations, being very deep and covered with much
table mould. But what yet more than this marks the
readiness with which labor is found to form the most difficult
materials into instruments, where these instruments soon bring
to an issue the events for which they are formed, is the
lent occurrence on many of their lakes and waters of
structures resembling the floating gardens of the Peruvians,
rafts covered with vegetable soil and cultivated. Labor in
way draws from the materials on which it acts very
speedy returns. Nothing can exceed the luxuriance of vegeta-
when the quickening powers of a genial sun are minis-
1 to by a rich soil, and abundant moisture. It is otherwise,
as we have seen, in cases where the return, though copious, is
92 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
distant. European travellers are surprised at meeting these
little floating farms, by the side of swamps which only require
draining to render them tillable. It seems to them strange
that labor should not rather be bestowed on the solid earth,
where its fruits might endure, than on structures that must
decay and perish in a few years. The people they are aiium^
think not so much of future years as of the present time. The
effective desire of accumulation is of very different strength in
the one, from what it is in the other. The views of the Euro-
pean extend to a distant futurity, and he is surprised at the
Chinese, condemned, through improvidence and want of suffi-
cient prospective care, to incessant toil, and, as he thinks,
insufferable wretchedness. The views of the Chinese are con-
fined to narrower bounds, he is content, as we say, to live
from day to day, and has learnt to conceive even a life of toil
a blessing. The power which the singular skill and dexterity
of this people, notwithstanding their deficiency in the strength
of that principle that forms the subject of this chapter, givtv-
them, to work up into instruments supplying a larger circle of
wants, many materials that would otherwise lie dormant,
is seen in various instances besides those referred to. It may
be sufficient to mention the manufacture of silk, and the culti-
vation and manufacture of tea. They are both instances of
the power of the inventive faculty to form instruments, soon
bringing to an issue events, that repay, according to the rate
at which labor is there repaid, considerably more than the
cost of their formation.
However we explain it, it will I think be admitted as a
fact, that Europeans in general far exceed Asiatics, both in
vigor of intellect and in strength of moral feeling. The
average duration of human life is also with them more
extended, and property more secure. These circumstances
give much superior power to the accumulative principle in the
one continent, to what it has in the other, and occasion the
instruments constructed in each to be of very different orders,
and to form a strong contrast when compared together. The
attention of an European, when he visits Asia, is arrested
by the slightness and want of strength, solidity, finish, and
consequently durability, of every instrument he sees. Were an
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 93
tic city deserted, the place where it stands would, in half a
century be scarcely discernible. The instruments constructed
being of the more quickly returning orders, all materials which
iv<juire much labor, and bring in only distant returns, are
>cted. Mud takes the place of stone, wood of iron. In
Europe, on the other hand, in proportion as the minds of the
people are reflective and intelligent, and their habits moral, we
find that the interests of futurity operate on them so largely
as to occasion a great capacity to be given to materials, on
which, in Asia, a very small capacity would be bestowed,
vhich would there be altogether neglected. The most
stubborn morasses are drained, and converted into arable
s ; roads, canals, bridges, fences, dwelling-houses, f urni-
ture, tools, utensils, in short all instruments whatever, indicate
that the formers of them have regard to a distant futurity, and
are willing to give up for its interests a large portion of the
means of present enjoyment.
It is to be observed, however, that in Europe invention has
in general made much greater progress than in Asia. Perhaps
in their knowledge of agriculture and horticulture the Chinese
tl most European nations, but in other arts they are
inferior, and, with the exception of them, no Asiatics,
in the knowledge of these or of other arts, can compete
with Europeans. On the other hand, the wages of labor
in Europe, are far higher than in Asia. This circumstance,
;<! \ailing the other, would probably, in many cases,
l-rin-j; the durability and efficiency of the instruments con-
ted in both continents nearly to an equality, were it not
for the existing difference in the strength of the accumulative
principle.
The examples we have hitherto considered have been of
societies, where the principle of accumulation has been either
advancing, or, at least, not sensibly retrograding. It may
be well to turn our attention to the effects produced by
a sensible decrease in its strength. The history of the
l-r lining ages of the Roman empire furnishes us with such
an one.
Rome may be said to have carried with her, from her
est germs, the elements of decay. Her power was entirely
94 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
that of force, a principle suppressing and subduing every
thiii;.:, generating nothing; like flame spreading far and wide,
investing whatever it catches with momentary splendor, but,
like it, destroying that which feeds it, and going out at length
leaving desolation behind it. The proper trade of the Romans
was war. But when in agricultural countries war becomes the
occupation of a community, and conquest the means by which
it seeks to acquire wealth and greatness, evils arise which time.
instead of mitigating, increases. When hunters go to war with
hunters, or herdsmen with herdsmen, the object in view,
besides overcoming their enemies, is to obtain possession of
a portion of the surface of the earth, and the animals wild, or
tame, nourished by it. Over such communities therefore,
though war, passing like a destroying tempest, leaves ruin
behind, yet time obliterates all traces of the devastation pro-
duced by it, and the same territory sees a new generation arise
from the victors or vanquished, as free, happy, and prosperous,
as their forefathers. But in states of society where the riches
of the earth are not brought out by the wild or tame animals
which its surface nourishes, but by the husbandman who tills
it, there conquest can never be a permanent gain, unless
through some permanent right acquired by it over the inhabi-
tants of the territory subdued. Hence the fact of war being
successfully pursued as a gainful trade by any community,
seems to imply, that the conquered submit to slavery, either
personal or political, probably partly to both. Gain was ah
the ultimate object aimed at by the Romans. It was not to
chastise an insult, or to protect their citizens in the undis-
turbed prosecution of industry, that they fought or conquered.
These might occasionally serve for pretexts, and were some-
times perhaps the exciting causes of war, but for the real
fruits of victory they always looked to the spoliation of
the vanquished, and tribute, in one shape or other, imposed
on them. Every people with whom they came in contact
was regarded by them first as an enemy to be subdued, after-
wards as a province from which they were to be enriched.
They were in truth a band of well disciplined robbers, whose
virtue, law, religion, centered in their swords ; courageous
indeed, and keeping to their positive engagements with a
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 95
fidelity common to brave men (and which, as it is for their
interest, even scattered banditti observe), but whose course
of rapine was still onward, relentless, merciless, unchecked
l.y thoughts of the corporeal pains, or mental debasement
it produced.
Such an empire could only have been formed by overpower-
ing the finer and more generous and elevating feelings, and
could not be maintained without having the effect of giving the
preponderance to the debasing, selfish, and therefore destructive
principles of our nature. It left but one great virtue, that of
patriotism, with the Romans a sort of enlarged esprit de corps,
one great moral quality, that of courage, or the meeting
danger undauntedly when the interest of the individual or the
state required it, a principle of action, it may be remarked,
di tiering considerably from the more generous and self -devoting
gallantry of the modern. These were strong in Italy while
Italy was the governing power; but even they gradually dis-
appeared as the provinces were amalgamated with it, and
Italians ceased to be the conquering soldiery.
It were needless to enlarge on a subject so well known
as that of the general corruption of Roman manners, from the
of the first Caesar. Venality and licentiousness may be
said to have been universal. I shall confine myself to one
particular, as marking sufficiently the declension of those prin-
s on which the strength of the effective desire of accumu-
lation mainly depends. I allude to the decay of the family
tions, of which evidence everywhere meets us. The men
di I not wish to be fathers, scarcely did the women wish to be
mothers. The joys of the relation were to them too small, to
be a compensation for the sacrifices it demanded. The bring-
ip of children cost the one parent too much money, and
took from the other too much pleasure. If families were
1 up, it was not from the natural influence of the parental
affections, but in obedience to the laws, that the man might
have the approbation of the magistrate, and that there might
be citizens to the state. They lived, not in others, or for
ul for themselves, and sought their good in enj".v-
ments altogether selfish. It was their aim to expend on their
HTSMiuil pleasures whatever they possibly could. It would
96 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
seem as if the majority, could they have foreknown the exact
limits of their lives, would have made their fortunes and them
terminate together. As they could not do so, the fortunes of
many ended before their lives, as the fortunes of others held
out beyond their lives. To reap, however, themselves, while
alive, all possible benefit from what they might chance to
leave others to enjoy after their death, they encouraged some
of the members of a despicable class who seem to have consti-
tuted no inconsiderable part of Koman society. Parasites
ready to minister to every pleasure, and to perform every
possible service, waited on the man of wealth, in the hope and
expectation of enjoying a portion of it after his death. They
were more desirable than children, both because they were
able to give something more than mere unsubstantial affection
and esteem, and because they were willing to give it, while a
son or daughter might imagine they had claims to receive
what they could not be said to have labored for. The poets
and satirists of the Augustine age, and of subsequent times,
give sufficient evidence of the existence of a state, evil in
itself, and the forerunner of many evils. 1 It gave occasion to
the law compelling parents to leave their children a certain
part, a fourth, of their property. Its prevalence may be
judged of by the wording of the enactments increasing the
children's share. It is stated, as a fact well known, that
parents generally either disinherit, or omit their children in
their wills, leaving the bulk of their property to distant rela-
tions, to strangers, or to slaves, to whom they give freedom ;
1 Horace, V. Satire, II. Book. It is worth while observing, that, according
to this satire, to cheat these parasites into the service, by holding out a
reward they were never to get, was reckoned a thing to be laughed at.
Probably the practice existed from a very early age, though I cannot give
authority for it. Parasites are in Plautus' Plays, but these are in a great
measure translations. The following quotation from that author, however,
expresses a feeling, which I should suppose prevailed in Roman society at the
time :
" Quando habeo multos cognates, quid opus mihi sit liberis.
Nunc bene vivo et fortunate, atque animo ut lubet,
Mea bona mea morte cognatis dicam interpartiant,
Illi apud me edunt, me curant, visunt quid agam, ecquid velim,
Qui mihi mittunt munera, ad prandium, ad csenam vocant."
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 97
that thus, if their family is numerous, they, who during
lifetime of their father enjoyed affluence, find that his
death leaves them in poverty. 1
Nothing, surely, can more clearly show the extreme and
fling selfishness of the time, than its becoming neces-
for the magistrate to compel the citizens to marry, and
to compel them to leave portions to their children,
existence of such a state of things implied a degree of
isnlatinn of feeling and action, so great, as necessarily to
produce general weakness and decay. The general selfish-
ness of the principles guiding the conduct of individuals,
be gathered from a prevailing proverb, " when I die let
the world burn." 2 When such were the maxims ruling
society, there could not fail to be a heedless sacrifice of the
interests of futurity, an exhaustion of the means or instru-
ct s which the forethought of previous generations had
employed industry to accumulate, without any correspond-
reformation of them. Sallust, in a fragment quoted by
Montesquieu, well describes the men of his day as a race
who could neither themselves hold property, nor allow
rs to retain it. 3 Only such instruments could con-
cntly be formed as were of very quickly returning
orders, and, as the vigor of the accumulative principle
decayed, the members of each succeeding generation saw a
mass of materials fall from their grasp, which had afforded
1 Quia plerumque parentes sine causa liberos suas exheredunt vel omittunt.
Lib. II. Tit. 28. Capiunt quidem cognati omnia, et extranei, vel cum
Ue servi ; filii vero licet multi consistent ; etiamsi nihil offenderint
parentes, confunduntur, etc. Novel. XVIII. Pref.
''EjtoG davbvTot yata ntxOjrw vvpl. Suet. A similar proverb "apres nous
luge," is said to have been often in the mouth of Madame Pompa-
one of the purest self -worshippers ever existing. It is perhaps
worthy of remark, as showing the propensity of selfishness to grasp the
present, that both the Romans and the lady were very prodigals even
iiat was entirely their own. The former it is well known rapidly
exhausted their constitutions by every sort of debauchery and excess,
itter was as little economical of her personal charms. At twenty
her lips are said to have been livid from the too constant application
r teeth to make them pout, at thirty she was haggard.
lorito dicatur genitos esse, qui nee ipsi babere possent res familiaree,
me all..'- p;iti."
Q
98 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
a plentiful supply to the wants of their more provident
forefathers. 1
The means of supporting human life diminished, and the
milliters of mankind diminished with them. When vice
itself did not sufficiently check the growth of the elements
of life, it brought want and famine to its assistance. The
history of the Eoman world under the Caesars, is a melan-
choly detail of the gradually decaying funds of the Empire,
and the gradually decreasing numbers of its inhabitants.
Italy, according to Pliny, and other writers, was in the old
times crowded with people, thickly set with cities, and rich
in all things ministering to the needs of its inhabitants. In
his day, its diminished population depended for their sus-
tenance on the productions of other territories. The change
certainly was not owing to any alteration in the materials.
" Noii fatigata aut effbeta humus," says Columella. The
earth would have yielded the same returns, had they who
possessed it been willing to expend what was necessary to
give it the capacity of yielding them. As the materials
were only wrought up to very quickly returning orders,
they had necessarily a much smaller capacity, and the
annual returns made by them were of consequence much
less. Pasture took place of tillage; corn was brought from
the provinces ; and when the supply failed famine ensued.
Even the construction of ships for the transport of this,
and other merchandise, would seem to have been an effort
to which the accumulative principle was scarcely equal.
It was found necessary to encourage it by rewarding those
1 [Several writers have ascribed the fall of Rome on its economic side, to
the draining away of money to the East in payment for imported luxuries.
This was not a separate and distinct cause of decline, but rather one of its con-
comitants. It is but one of the phases of the general and fundamental cause
which Rae sets forth. The stock of metallic money of a community is a
social instrument, the " instrument of association," as Henry C. Carey
aptly called it, and it is secured in the first place and kept up after-
wards in the same manner essentially as other instruments by industry
and the exercise of the accumulative principle. The present-day arguments
as to the comparative unimportance of more or less money, do not apply to an
age when extensive areas were lapsing from a money economy to a state of
barter.]
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 99
who prosecuted that branch of industry. 1 Sometimes land
formerly cultivated was allowed to lie entirely waste, and
passed altogether out of the class of instruments. The forest
and wilderness gained on the Romans, as they would now, for
similar reasons, on an Indian population, were some of these
t lilies put in possession of the domains, anciently the property
of their race, at present yielding abundantly to the provident
industry of the whites. Had there been no irruption of the
ltarlarians, the Empire must have perished, more slowly per-
haps, but as certainly, from the operation alone of these
internal causes of decay. They were occasioning a progressive
diminution of the capacity which materials formerly possessed.
Tli us, it is to the Romans themselves as much as to the bar-
ms, that the destruction of the public edifices is to be
ascribed. The stones were applied to private purposes. With
i hf capacity for yielding a return, there necessarily perished
the return yielded, and the power, consequently, of maintain-
the same number of men, and contributing an equal
amount to the wants of the state. Hence the population of
Kmpire, and the imperial revenue, diminished from age
to age.
The diminution would have l>een much more rapid but for
some counteracting causes. Rome, while she conquered and
enslaved, gave peace, and peace enabled the arts to pass from
:try to country, and often, under her protection, carried
i to regions before barbarous. Again, she herself, as she
gradually proceeded to enslave the rest of the world, and
role it in her empire, received into her li<>s<>m those
who had been free, or were the immediate descendants of
:uen, and retained something of their virtues. The un-
governable licentiousness, extravagance, and proneness to evil
he Italians, were tempered by the greater and
frugality of the new men of many of the distant provinces,
'Nam et negotiatoribus certa lucra proposuit, suscepto in se damno si
ii'l per teropestatefl accidisset ; et naves mercaturae causa fabricanti-
bus magna commoda const! tuit pro conditione cuj usque : civibus vacationetn
legis Pappere : Latinia jus Quiritum : fa-minis jus quatuor liberorum ; qua
conatituta hodie servantur.
Suet, in vita Claudii. MX
100 INTERNATIONAL DIFFERENCES
who flocked in to recruit the diminishing numbers of her
citizens. 1
These two circumstances, however, only retarded, they could
not resist, the advancing degeneracy, poverty, and weakness,
that were gradually sapping the foundations of the Empire,
and exposing it to be overturned by external violence, or
to fall to ruin by its own weight. While some of her
provinces gave strength to Rome, she corrupted them ; i I
she gave them her arts, she gave them also her manners.
Like liquor, already begun to turn, mixed with what is
yet fresh, the defects of the compound were not at first per-
ceptible; by and by, the adulteration diffused through it
wrought on the whole, and rendered it all alike worthless.
The propagation of Christianity over the Empire is to be
reckoned as another of the causes retarding its decay. It
is to be observed, however, that this took place too late
for reaping the advantages, which the morality of the Gospel
might have otherwise conferred ; and that the corruptions
of the times were so great as to lead its teachers rather
to preach the duty of withdrawing from the world, than
to inspire them with the hopes of remoulding the world to
an accordance with a system of perfect purity of morals and
benevolence of purpose. The effects of this cause were there-
fore comparatively small.
The reader will perceive that the subject we are upon
might be stretched to an indefinite length. Circumstances
have given to every community a peculiar character; the
moral and intellectual powers of every people have received
different degrees of developement, and the continuance of life
is more or less probable, and the possession of property more
or less assured, in one country than in another. All these
particulars vary the relations between the present and the
future, in the estimation of the members of different societies,
and would therefore determine each community to stop short
at some particular point in our series, towards which, the
strength of the accumulative principle may be said to cause
the instruments it forms continually to gravitate. Unlike the
1 Tacit. Ann. C. 55, L. III.
IN ACCUMULATIVE STRENGTH 101
operation of gravity, however, the force with which they tend
to this point diminishes, as their distance from it decreases,
and the farther they are removed from it, the greater the
rapidity of their progress towards it.
The subject would not therefore be fairly exhausted until all
the circumstances of the moral and intellectual state, and other
particulars of the condition of every people, had been examined,
and compared with the extent to which the formation of instru-
ments among them is advanced. Enough, however, has perhaps
been done to show, that this principle is of very extensive
operation, and that in our subsequent inquiries, we are war-
ran UM I in assuming the strength of the effective desire of
accumulation to be a circumstance of primary importance,
in the determination of the extent to which the formation of
instruments will be carried in any society. We should now
proceed to examine the more important effects resulting from
variations in the strength of this principle in different members
of the same community. It is however necessary first to con-
sonie phenomena produced by the progress of it, and
nf the inventive faculty, and certain classifications of instru-
ments and names applied to them, which have thence arisen.
This will form the subject of the next chapter.
CHAPTER VIII.
OF THE DIVISION OF EMPLOYMENTS AND OTHER PHENO-
MENA PRODUCED BY EFFORTS TO ACCELERATE THE
EXHAUSTION OF INSTRUMENTS,
EVERY individual endeavors to exhaust, as speedily as lie
can, the capacity of the instruments which he possesses. By
rapidly exhausting the capacity of any instrument, the returns
yielded by it are not lessened, but quickened. The powers it
possesses to bestow enjoyment, or to aid in the formation of
other instruments, are not diminished in quantity, but sooner
brought into action, and it passes to an order of quicker
return. When therefore the efforts of individuals, so directed,
are successful, by placing the instruments operated on in more
quickly returning orders, they stimulate the accumulative
principle to give greater capacity to instruments of the sort,
and proportionally increase the capacity of the whole stock of
instruments owned by the society. It is to certain phenomena, in
the production of which these two circumstances are the main
agents, that we have in this chapter to direct our attention.
As the knowledge which mankind possess of the course of
nature advances, and they discover a greater number of means
to provide for their future wants, the instruments they employ
for this purpose become very various. The exercise of the arts
of the weaver, the blacksmith, the carpenter, the farmer,
implies the existence of a great variety of tools with which
they may be carried on. But, as a man can only do one thing
at once, if any man had all the tools which these several
occupations require, at least three-fourths of them would
OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS 103
constantly lie idle and useless. It were clearly then better,
were any society to exist where each man had all these tools,
and alternately carried on each of these occupations, that the
members of it should if possible divide them amongst them,
each restricting himself to some particular employment.
There would then be no superfluous implements, each set of
tools would form an instrument much more speedily exhausted,
and therefore of an order of quicker return than before. In
where this could be done, common sense would point out
ic advantage of it. When, for instance, a man's loom came
be worn out, he would go to his neighbor and say, " I shall
>t make another loom if you will undertake to do what
feaving I may require ; in return I will give you some of the
luce of my farm, or will do some blacksmith work for you."
offer would be accepted, and similar motives operating
uoughout the society, each individual in it would confine his
lustry, as far as possible, to the employment of some par-
icular set of tools or instruments. It is not perhaps likely
[obvious], that this was the manner in which that division of
jupations with which we are now familiar was originally
luced, but it must evidently have been produced in this
ray, had it not been otherwise brought to pass, as we see,
fact, that even now it is thus brought to pass in the progress
settlements in North America. In such situations, every
is at first probably obliged to be his own carpenter,
r, tanner, cobbler, and perhaps to a great extent his own
smith. As the settlement fills up, and the population
>mes sufficiently dense, he gives up this multifarious
idustry, and takes to some particular branch. The advan-
of the change to the whole community, and therefore to
individual in it, are great. In the first place, the various
iplements being in constant employment yield a better
u ii for what has been laid out in procuring them ; being
ler exhausted they pass to a more quickly returning order,
consequence, their owners can afford to have them of better
and more complete construction; the effective desire of
i in ulation carries them on to a class correspondent to its
rn strength. The result of both events is, that a larger
>roviaiou is made for the future wants of the whole society.
104 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
Such a revolution can only have place, where the individuals
exercising the different employments, have a ready communica-
tion with each other. In situations where they cannot easily
communicate, either from distance, or difficulty of transit, such
exchanges cannot take place. 1 If a man had to go twenty
miles for every little piece of carpenter work that he wished
executed, it were better for him to keep a few carpenter tools
of his own. Neither is it likely to take place extensively
unless where the accumulative principle has considerable
strength, and where, consequently, a large amount of labor is
wrought up in the several implements in use. Where, as it.
Hindostan, the loom is merely a few sticks, it would save ond
individual very little to employ another to weave for him. It
is accordingly, in countries where the population is most
dense, the facility of communication greatest, and instruments
wrought up to the more slowly returning orders, that employ-
ments are most divided.
As a division of employments implies the existence of
exchange or barter, so, as it extends, these exchanges become
necessarily more frequent. Every man, to procure the supply
of his various wants, has to employ the services of more
individuals than he had before. The farmer, who used to
manufacture his own cloth from his own fleeces, transfers these
to some one else, and perhaps, after they have passed through
the hands of the carder, the spinner, the weaver, the fuller, etc.
part of them returns to him again in the shape of cloth for
some garment that he is in need of. In an advanced state of
society, very few wants are supplied but by articles or instru-
ments which have passed through many hands. We can
scarce then fitly pursue our subject, without some examination
of the manner in which these exchanges take place, and of tin 1
rules by which they are regulated.
As all instruments exist solely to supply wants, so any man
1 [In Carey's terminology, separation of employments depends upon the
"power of association." He believed that through an excessive scattering out
of the people into the backwoods settlements in his day this power, and
therefore its advantages, were in great measure lost. Compare Edward Gibbon
Wakefield on the " barbarising tendency to dispersion " in all frontier com-
munities.]
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 105
will consent to receive an instrument in exchange, or expect to
give it in exchange, only as it is a means of supplying wants.
It is the business of every man to adopt the readiest and easiest
means he can devise to supply all coming needs, and it is
solely because the medium of barter [exchange] presents the
readiest means of effecting this end, that he adopts it.
But labor is the fund which all men have, out of which to
supply their wants. Some have other funds besides, but every
man has this, and strip a man of every thing adventitious, this
alone remains to him. It is this, then, which a person may
most fitly be said to expend, in provision for any future want.
When one man exchanges this for that, he may be said to give
the labor which he has expended on this, for the labor which
has been expended on that, and labor for labor would seem to
be the most simple of exchanges. It never, as we shall see,
exactly takes place, but sometimes it is nearly approximated
to, and, that we may set out from the most simple elements, we
may suppose that it is actually arrived at.
Any man will be inclined to exchange one instrument for
another, if, by so doing, he can save himself any part of the
: which he must otherwise expend in producing that other.
A lives in some place where willows are to be had for cutting
them ; he employs himself in making willow baskets, one of
which he finishes in two days ; B offers him a straw hat for it.
If lie wants a straw hat, and thinks that, were he to set a
making one, it would occupy him more than two days, and
moreover, that neither D, E or F, who make straw hats, will
give it for less : he will be inclined to make the exchange. In
doing so, it is a matter of indifference to him what time B may
have expended in making the hat, his only reason for entering
-action, is the saving of labor to himself he thereby
In reality, however, it is altogether likely that B
has not expended more than two days in making it. For,
'sing, as in this case we may, that both A and B have the
same natural faculties, B, were he to set about making willow
baskets, could make them as well and as easily as A, that is at
the rate of one in two days. If then the straw hat cost him
more than two days' labor, he would rather make a willow
basket for himself than exchange his straw hat for it. Even if
106 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
he had not the manual skill necessary, he would apply himself
to acquire it, and take to the occupation of basket-making in
preference to that of making hats ; as we see, in employments
where mere labor is concerned, that one is deserted for another
according as it gives less or more wages.
It so comes to pass that in the same society, in all exchanges,
as far as we can conceive mere labor to be concerned, one man,
A, barters that which has cost him two, or twenty days' labor,
with that which has cost another, B, two, or twenty days'
labor. We must however bear in mind, that neither does A
offer the article, nor does B receive it, simply because it has
cost two, or twenty days' labor. A offers it, and B receives it,
because it is an instrument to supply future wants, and under
the supposition that it cannot be got for less than two or
twenty days' labor. In such cases, the person desirous of
making the exchange may indeed say to the individual with
whom he wishes to exchange, Sir, I assure you the article
cost me two, or twenty days' labor, as the case may be ; and
being assured of this, the person so addressed may think it
sufficient grounds to make the exchange, and may so conclude
the bargain. But he does so, not because the other has
expended two or twenty days' labor on it, but because, he
having expended this, he concludes that it cannot be got for
less ; that if it has cost him two or twenty days' work, it would
have cost any other, and would cost himself, the same
labor. If he knows that the person desirous of exchanging is
an unskilful or bungling workman, or if he sees that the labor
has been injudiciously applied, he will not give what is
demanded. He knows, in that case, that he can make it, or
get it made, for less. Were one to employ himself in rolling a
stone up hill and down hill for a month together, he would
leave it as useless to him in the way of exchange as before he
put his hand to it.
It may be laid down as a rule, then, that in as far as labor
simply is concerned in all exchanges, one thing will be bartered
for another, not in proportion to the labor that has been
respectively bestowed on each, but in proportion to that
which it is necessary to bestow on materials, similar to those
of which each has been constructed, to make other articles
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 107
equal to' them in capacity to supply wants ; that, if this
basket exchanges for that hat, though each may have cost
two days' labor, it is not exactly because each has cost it, but
because neither a basket equally good as the one, nor a hat
equally good as the other, can be made for less than two days'
labor.
As a corollary from this, it follows that, whenever an article
comes to be made with less labor than formerly, articles of the
same sort which may have been previously manufactured, pro-
cure for their owners less of other articles in exchange than
they did before. They exchange, not for what labor has been
actually wrought up in them, but for what is now required to
make others similar to them. Thus, supposing that a basket-
maker, say in some settlement in North America, having to go
on foot a considerable distance through woods and swamps for
his willow twigs, requires one day to procure enough to make a
basket, and that he takes another to work them up, he would
then probably receive for each basket two days' labor, or
articles having cost two days' labor. If now, however, a place
whfre equally good willows grow is discovered near at hand, so
that only half a day is required to get enough for a basket, and
if this is generally known, he will no longer be able to exchange
them at the same rate, because, as we have seen, other people
would make baskets for less, that is, for one and a half days'
labor, or for articles in the fabrication of which the labor of one
and a half days had been expended. Any stock then he might
have on hand of baskets made previously to this discovery,
would only exchange for articles requiring for their fabrication
Ui- labor of a day and a half. The same rule that applies to
thi- trivial instance, holds good in affairs of greater importance,
and regulates a large amount of exchanges.
I can however never exactly happen, that labor will be ex-
'_.'(<!, in this simple way, for labor. The formation of t
instrument, besides labor, requires also the assistance of some
other instrument. Even the basket-maker and the hat-maker,
allowing them to get the twigs and straw they require, for th<
Me of collecting them, would need, the one at least a knife,
the other a needle and thread. Auxiliaries so inconsider-
able as these need scarce be noticed in the reckoning; Imt
108 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
there are cases where these assisting instruments may be said
to do a great part, others, in which they may be said to do
nearly the whole of the work. In a steam-boat the engine
may be considered as the great laboring power, though
the services of the men who supply fuel, and regulate the
motion of it and of the boat, enter also largely into the
account. In a set of well-contrived, and well-finished pipes,
for conducting water through a city to the different houses
in it, the amount of human labor entering [directly] into the
process is very trifling.
A weaver we shall suppose receives thread to weave into a
piece of linen, and finishes the job in thirty days. Were he
now, in return, to receive from his employer simply thirty days'
labor, he would get too little ; for, his loom being an instru-
ment partially exhausted in fabricating the linen, this exhaus-
tion ought to form an item in the account. Suppose that the
effective desire of accumulation of the individual, is of strength
sufficient to carry him to the order G, doubling in seven years,
that the loom cost one hundred clays' labor, and that it will be
exhausted in seven years ; it would then require to return two
hundred days' labor, or an equivalent, at the end of that period.
The return however is not delayed so long, but begins to come
in daily, immediately after its construction. Calculating then
what yearly return is equal to two hundred days at the end of
seven years, in the estimation of a man who reckons one day
now equal to two then, it will turn out to be nearly twenty
days. We may allow that the loom is in employment three
hundred days a year, it would therefore, on these principles,
have to return two days' labor, for every thirty days during
which it was in operation, and the weaver would consequently
have to receive an equivalent to thirty-two days' labor ; at least
had he not a moral certainty of receiving this, he would not
have formed the instrument, and were such return to cease he
would not reconstruct it.
The transport of goods by sea is an event brought about as
much by the agency of instruments, as by direct human labor.
A vessel costs, we shall say, five thousand days' labor, is
exhausted in seven years, and is navigated by three men. If
she belongs to a person whose effective desire of accumulation
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 109
carries him only to the class G, and supposing those who
navigate her to be paid for three hundred days' labor, she must,
on these principles, return about nineteen hundred days' labor
annually. Say she is freighted to carry a cargo of timber, and
that the voyage occupies three months. This transport being
a part of the process of the formation of certain instruments,
houses, furniture, etc., as necessary as any other part of it, the
owner will therefore receive directly, or indirectly, from those
engaged in their formation, an equivalent to not less than four
hundred and seventy-five days' labor.
It is to be observed, too, that, even in cases where labor
alone seems to be paid for, time generally also forms one of the
ifl to be taken into account. Thus, an individual contracts,
within three months, to fell the trees on a certain piece of
forest land in a North American settlement. If then he be
paid at the commencement of the three months, he will expect
to receive less than if payment be deferred until the expiration
<>f that time, and the difference between the two amounts will
be regulated, as in other cases, by the particular orders to
which instruments, in that particular situation, are generally
wrought up. The same things hold good in all instances where
labor is paid for by the work executed, or, as it is termed, by
the piece.
The division of employments and consequent prevalence of
-ystem of exchange, occasions a particular classification of
amenta.
Before the division of employments takes place, the instru-
ments which every man forms, or causes to be formed, are for
immediate use, and after it has taken place, the portion in-
dividuals reserve for this purpose makes still a considerable part
ie whole of the instruments belonging to any community.
n the poorest beggar has some clothes to cover him ; the
opulent have houses, furniture, clothing, gardens, pleasure-
grounds, &c. This part of the whole mass of instruments
possessed by individuals or communities, is termed a stock
reserved for immediate consumption.
Tin- n-mainder of the general stock of instruments of indi-
viduals and of societies, with the exception of land, considered
not as actually cultivated, but as having [been given] a
110 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
capacity for being cultivated, is termed capital. The instru-
ments to which this term applies supply the future wants
of the individuals owning them, indirectly, either from being
themselves commodities that may be exchanged for articles
directly suited to their needs, or by their capacity of pro-
ducing commodities which may be so exchanged. 1
Capital itself is again subdivided into fixed, and circulating
capital. Fixed capital consists of instruments which have
a capacity for producing commodities to be exchanged, but
are not themselves formed for the purpose of being exchanged.
Circulating capital consists of commodities fitted for being
exchanged, or of instruments in process of formation into such
commodities.
It often happens that the division between fixed and circu-
lating capital is drawn with difficulty, some instruments
belonging partly to the one, and partly to the other. Thus a
horse employed for agricultural purposes is a part of fixed
capital, while an ox may belong partly to fixed, and partly
to circulating capital, as he is reared and fed, in part for
the services expected from him as an animal of draft, and
in part for the price his carcase brings.
The total instruments owned by an individual, or a society,
and comprehended under the terms a stock reserved for im-
mediate consumption, fixed and circulating capital, have
received the general appellation of stock.
All instruments, whether comprehended under the divisions
capital fixed and circulating, or a stock reserved for immediate
consumption, possess a capacity for supplying the wants, or
saving the labor of man. But the wants which they supply
a [ Apparently Rae excludes land, considered as the basal instrument of
agriculture, from the category of capital, because it is an instrument of
"indefinite period of exhaustion" and yields income in the form of rent
instead of interest or profit. It is important to observe that Rae makes no
use of the specific definition of capital here given, which follows closely the
lead of Adam Smith. His working concept of capital coincides with all
stock. The title of this second "Book," it will be remembered, was: "Of
the Nature of Stock and of the Laws Governing its Increase and Diminution.'*
This reprint would have been called the Sociological Theory of Stock, had
that been a terminology which would speak to the present generation of
readers.]
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 111
and the labor which they save, are in general not immediate,
but future. Now we cannot estimate the same amount of
labor saved, or wants supplied tomorrow, and five, or fifty
years hence, as equivalent the one to the other. Thus if we
compare together a hundred full grown trees, and as many
saplings, it may be, that, estimated in the supply they yield
the wants of futurity, they are alike. If the former be
cut down tomorrow they may yield a hundred cords of fire
wood, and if the latter be cut down fifty years hence they
may yield the same. We should not nevertheless conceive,
thai they were equal the one to the other. What measure then
are we to adopt for comparing them and other such instru-
ments together, and thus finding an expression in a quantity
of immediate labor for the whole capacity of instruments
possessed by any community or for the whole stock of that
i-niiimunity ? The natural measure would seem to be the
relative estimate, which the individuals concerned themselves
form of the present and the future, that is, the strength of the
effective desire of accumulation of the particular community.
Thus in a community whose effective desire of accumulation
is of strength sufficient to carry it to the formation of instru-
ments of the order E, doubling in five years, an instrument,
which at the expiration of five years yielded a return equiva-
lent to two days' labor, might fairly be estimated as equivalent
to one day's present labor ; if at the expiration of ten years it
yielded an equivalent to four days' labor, it might also now
be rated at one day's labor, and so for other periods. This
fore is a mode of expressing in present days' labor the
whole capacity of the instruments owned by any society which
will be made use of in the following pages; and the terms,
the absolute stock, and absolute capital of that society, will be
employed to denote it.
The mode, however, in which the fixed and circulating
capital and stock belonging to societies is usually estimated,
Iferent. It is usual to estimate the instruments belonging
to any society, by comparing them with one another as they
actually exchange, some particular commodity being made
choice of as the standard to which all other instruments
are referred. To capital and stock estimated in this mode.
112 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
the terms, relative capital and stock of societies, will be
applied.
In cases where the effective desire of accumulation of a
community has had opportunity to work up the materials
possessed by it into instruments of an order correspondent
to its own strength, the absolute and relative stock must,
it is obvious, agree ; but, in cases where the accumulative
principle has not yet had time fully to operate, the former
will exceed the latter. Thus, were we to suppose the returns
made by the whole of the instruments belonging to a society,
or their total capacity, to be suddenly doubled, without any
addition to the labor employed in forming them, the total
absolute stock of the society would also be doubled, while its
relative stock would remain unaltered. The relations of the
several instruments possessed by it remaining the same, what-
ever commodity had been adopted as the standard, when
applied to measure the others it would give the same results
as before. It never, indeed, can happen that any increase
to the capacity of the instruments forming the stock of a
society, so great and sudden as we have supposed, can take
place ; but however small such increase, it would have a
real effect, and would occasion a difference in the amount
of the whole stock as estimated in the one or the other
manner. Every such increase is effected through the opera-
tion of the inventive faculty, and we shall therefore defer the
consideration of the effects flowing from it, until we come
to treat of the phenomena resulting from the progress of that
faculty.
Though the division of employments consequent to the
progress of science and art, and the operation of the accumu-
lative principle, on the whole greatly accelerates the exhaus-
tion of instruments, there are yet some particulars in which
it tends somewhat to retard that exhaustion. In the most
simple state of society, when art is so rude, and accumulation
so little advanced, that each individual forms almost all the
instruments he himself or his family exhaust, and when, con-
sequently, the general stock of the community is nearly
altogether a stock formed and reserved for immediate con-
sumption, it can seldom happen that there will be either an
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 113
over abundance, or a deficiency of instruments of any sort.
As each individual can make an accurate estimate of his own
wants and those of his family, prudent men, in such a state
of things, provide only the instruments that may be of use to
thrm, and do not form any but such as they foresee will come
into employment as they are formed. But when individuals
ceasing to form only instruments directly supplying their
own wants, give the greater part of the industry they can
nand to manufacturing commodities for the purpose of
inge, as they have not the means of calculating with
equal accuracy the wants of other men, it occasionally happens
that some commodities are produced in excess, and that there
deficiency of others.
When, again, the state of society is such, that each in-
dividual forms almost the whole instruments he requires,
there is very little transport of commodities from place
to place. The amount of transport necessarily increases with
-eparation of employments. This forms another drawback
. the advantages arising from the extension of the division
of occupations, and system of exchange. On account there-
fore both of many commodities being produced in excess, and
- being necessary to transport most from place to place,
there are always, in such states of society, very many com-
ities lying idle, being neither under process of formation
or exhaustion, but collected in masses at different points,
waiting till some vacancy be found for them. The longer
continue in this state the farther they must pass towards
the orders of slower return, and the more the operation of
the accumulative principle must be retarded.
It seems to be chiefly from the desire of obviating some-
what these two disadvantages attending the general advance
T and industry, that, when the nature of the occupation
permits it, individuals engaged in all the different divisions
:idustry place themselves as near each other as possible,
form villages and towns. Each can thus more easily
st the amount of commodities he produces to the wants
i urn, and thus also there arises a great saving of
osport.
It is also in a great measure owing to the necessity of
ii
114 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
transporting commodities from place to place, and to the
difficulty of regulating the precise amount produced consequent
on the division of occupations, that there arises an order
of men, that of merchants, devoting themselves solely to the
business of transport and exchange. Merchants are the great
exchangers of society, regulating the production of commodities
and collecting and distributing them to situations where the
never-ceasing processes of formation and exhaustion are pro-
ducing vacancies for them. It is their business to make
these exchanges with the greatest possible rapidity, and least
possible expense.
There is a general average time elapsing from the period
of the formation of every commodity, until it pass from the
individual having formed it, to the individuals who exhaust
it in the supply of their wants, or employ it in the formation
of other instruments. The merchant who effects the transfer
of commodities between the other members of society is
entitled to receive an amount exceeding that which he gave,
by the return which the labor embodied in the commodity
exchanged should yield for this average time, according to
the general rate of return of capital in the community. If
therefore the superior intelligence, penetration, and activity
of any merchant giving him the power of foreseeing with
greater accuracy than his brethren where vacancies are about
to exist, and what will be their extent, and of discovering
where the commodities proper to fill them up may most
readily be found, and most easily transported to the requisite
places enables him to effect these transfers with greater
facility than usual, and within less than the average time,
he will receive a proportionally greater return than other
merchants. On the contrary, if, from a deficiency in these
qualities, any merchant attempt the transfer of commodities
for which there is no vacancy, or effect the transfer of com-
modities for which there is a vacancy, at more than the
average expense, or in more than the average time, the returns
his capital yields him will be less than those usually received
by the other members of the community. Mercantile energy
is thus stimulated to effect all practicable exchanges with
the greatest possible celerity, and at the least possible expense
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 115
The activity which is in consequence given to the process
of exchange, is a circumstance exceedingly beneficial to the
interests of the community. By lessening the distance between
the periods of formation and exhaustion, and diminishing the
use of formation (for transport makes a part of that
use), the successful exertions of the mercantile portion
of society have a powerful tendency to preserve instruments
in the more quickly returning orders, and to excite the action
of the accumulative principle. Our subject consequently
requires us to examine somewhat more particularly the
mechanism by which the business of merchants is conducted,
and the mode of calculation by which it is practically
luted. Our attention too is more especially called to
these, because it is from the former that the principles of
the present science of political economy are derived, and on
the latter that its nomenclature is founded.
The foundation of the mechanism of mercantile transac-
tions is
Money.
Gold and silver, or, as they are called, the precious metals,
are more properly entitled to the appellation of money than
any other thing is, because they more generally pass for money
than does any thing else. Their beauty, their incorruptibility,
and some other of their qualities afterwards to be considered,
have, in almost every country, rendered them the means
of affording much enjoyment, that is, of supplying, to a
large extent, certain of the wants of man. It seems likely
these qualities, joined to the facility with which they
may be transported from place to place, first made them
esteemed the most desirable of all commodities that one could
possess. In the very frequent revolutions and commotions
occur in the earlier ages of society, articles that do
lecay, can be hid, or carried off without difficulty, and
always estimable, would naturally of all others be most
led. They thus probably were first chiefly sought at
for the purpose of being retained, not for that of being ex-
changed ; even yet in many countries, partly from old habits,
and partly from still prevailing insecurity, they are chieny
cl as of all things, those best fit to be hoarded. But,
116 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
in whatever manner their use may have been introduced,
or how much soever in some countries it may be dependent
on a feeling of insecurity, at present or formerly prevailing,
and prompting their possessors to keep not to part with them,
they are now more generally sought for, for the purpose
of being immediately passed away, forming, in the shape of
money, the great medium of exchange; and it is solely in the
part they thus act, that we have here very briefly to consider
them.
When, in the progress of society, men divide into different
occupations, and each ceasing to fabricate himself all the
instruments his wants require, barters the instruments or
commodities he forms for those formed by others, the system
of exchange, as we have seen, commences. The introduction,
to a greater or less extent, of some sort of money, seems
naturally to follow. For when a man forms only one sort
of instruments or commodities, it cannot at all times happen
that he can exchange them with articles fabricated by other
men, and necessary to supply his wants, because these other
men, the formers and possessors of what he desires, may not
at the moment have occasion for what he has formed. "The
butcher has more meat in his shop than he himself can con-
sume, and the brewer and the baker would each of them
be willing to purchase a part of it. But they have nothing
to offer in exchange, except the particular productions of their
respective trades, and the butcher is already provided with
all the bread and beer which he has immediate occasion
for." 1 There are two modes by which the desired exchange
may be effected. If the brewer and the baker have a com-
modity received by every one for all others, such as money
is, they may each give the butcher a certain quantity of it
for a quantity of meat, and when he requires their ale and
bread, he may, in turn, send back to them also a quantity
of money. Or, the butcher may be satisfied with the promise
of the brewer and the baker, that, at some future time, when
he has occasion for it, they will give him a quantity of ale
and bread, or of something else. These two modes of effecting
the object form the two systems of cash, or credit, by which
1 Wealth of Nations, Book I. c. IV.
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 117
all the business of every country that consists not in barter,
is carried on.
Pieces of gold and silver coined, that is stamped with a
mark regulating and assuring by the authority of the magistrate
the weight and fineness of each, enter largely into transactions
of the former order ; they make the bulk of the current coin
of most countries. Supposing the whole of the exchanges
of any country that are not simple barter, effected by money,
and that gold and silver form the sole money, then the
amount of them so employed [at any given level of prices]
would seem to be regulated by two circumstances.
The first of these is the quantity of commodities that may
exist to be exchanged. This again must depend on the
quantity of materials wrought up into instruments, and on
progress of the division of labor [employments]. As the
number of instruments increase, and as from their first
commencing formation, until they are exhausted, they pass
through more hands, the amount of exchanges must increase.
As the number of instruments formed decrease, and as every
man himself constructs a greater proportion of those necessary
to supply his own wants, the amount of exchanges must
diminish, and as the amount of exchanges increases, or
diminishes, so must there be required [at any given level
of prices] a greater or less quantity of the medium through
which they are transacted.
In such a state of things as we suppose, could every
man see exactly beforehand the whole series of the exchanges
that would present themselves to him, every prudent man
would so manage his exchanges, that is his purchases and
sales, as to provide himself with the exact amount of
money necessary to effect every exchange that he might deem
it advisable to execute. But no man can with accuracy fore-
see what transactions may present themselves to him, or
when they may do so. The amount of possible future ex-
i'_jes that may offer to any man, and the time they may
occur, are exceedingly uncertain, depending on many things
not to be foreknown the operations of other individuals
engaged in the formation of instruments immediately or
remotely connected with those on which his means or industry
118 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
is engaged, the course of the winds and seasons, the fortune
of war, the progress of treaties, and numberless other events
equally doubtful in their issues. Every man, therefore, would
in such a state of things, suffer two inconveniences, he would
occasionally have too much money, and occasionally too little.
He would sometimes have a sum lying for a long time useless
by him, and an advantageous purchase would sometimes
present itself to him which he had not cash sufficient to effect.
Between these two opposite evils, it would be his business
to steer as safe a course as possible ; he could not hope
altogether to avoid them, but must be content to suffer
occasionally from both. Which of the two it would be
most prudent for him to run the risk of suffering from, would,
I conceive, depend on another circumstance, forming the
second of those that, under the suppositions we have made,
regulate the amount of precious metals in circulation.
Every man must be more unwilling to run the risk of
having a sum of money lying useless by him, by how much
greater the amount of the returns he could have by turning it
to the formation of instruments. If then, in the society of
which any man is a member, instruments are not far removed
from the first orders of our series, when they soonest double
the expenditure of their formation, he will rather risk the in-
convenience of having too little money by him, than the loss
of having a sum in his coffers long unemployed, which might
have been converted into instruments yielding large returns.
But if, in the society of which he is a member, instruments
are far removed from the first orders of our series, he will be
disposed to reserve a greater amount in the hopes of making
more by some advantageous bargain, than he could by expend-
ing it on the formation of any instrument. We should expect
then to find, that, in countries where either the principle of
accumulation is too weak to carry instruments on to the more
slowly returning orders, or where it has not yet had time to do
so, money would be scarce, and that, where this principle
having had time to act, its strength has carried them to the
farther orders, there money would be plenty. Such will be
found to be the fact. In China, gold and silver are rarely
seen, in the interior traffic of the country ; in Holland, they
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 119
have always abounded. In new settlements in America, where
from the superabundance of materials, instruments are of very
quickly returning orders, the amount of coin to be found is
exceedingly small. When a man there has cash in his pocket,
la- finds so many things that he could with profit expend it on,
that he can scarcely refrain from doing so.
:i European visiting some parts of Upper Canada, is sur-
prised when he comes to discover, that a few dollars is all the
that even men comparatively rich may have lying by
i. He is apt to conceive that they are poor men, and to
describe the country as a poor country. In doing so, how-
. he does not make a correct use of words. He sees, for
instance, a man who, ten years before, may have brought a
sum of two hundred pounds to the place where he is now
>d, without at present twenty dollars in his pocket, and
who perhaps, were that sum suddenly demanded of him, might
have difficulty to procure it. In one sense, then, the man is
poor. But, were this man asked to sell his farm and his
other property, he probably would not give it for less than a
thousand pounds, and he might get this sum for it. If so, it
is ten to one that he would lay out the greater part of it
in the purchase of a larger quantity of land than he before
possessed, and the remainder in improving that land, so that a
year or two would see him just as bare of cash as before; and
twelve years afterwards, if he went on prosperously, he would
still have but a trifle of ready cash, though perhaps he might
truly consider his property worth two or three thousand
pounds, and might not be disposed to take less for it. He
could hardly, therefore, be called a poor man. In this part of
America, as formerly over the whole of it, " the scarcity of gold
and silver money is not the effect of the poverty of that
itry, or of the inability of the people there to purchase
e metals. The scarcity of these metals is the effect of
choice and not of necessity. It is convenient for the Ameri-
cans, who can always employ with profit, in the improvement
ir lands, a greater stock than they can easily get, to save
as much as possible the expense of so costly an instrument as
gold and silver; and rather to employ that part of their
surplus produce which would be necessary for purchasing those
1JO OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
metals, in purchasing the instruments of trade, the materials of
clothing, several parts of household furniture, and the iron
work necessary for building and extending their settlements, in
purchasing, not dead stock, but active and productive stock." l
But, though the loss of having more idle cash lying by
one than can possibly be dispensed with, must be felt most
sensibly where such cash can be most profitably expended, where
instruments, that is, are not far from the first orders of our
series, still it must always be felt. A man will never keep
two hundred pounds in his chest, if he thinks it probable that
one hundred will be sufficient, because he can always make
something of the other hundred. Although however, men, in
such cases, must be governed by what they think probably
will happen, yet, as no man can foresee with certainty what
may happen, every man will now and then be wrong in his
calculations, and therefore, under the suppositions we have
made, every man would occasionally suffer from having too
little cash, as well as at other times from having too much.
The effect of both these sorts of losses must be, to place
the instruments on which they operate in orders of slower
return, than they would otherwise occupy. One wishes to
purchase a pair of young horses of a particular sort ; for this
purpose he reserves a quantity of coin equivalent to four
hundred days' labor ; he happens, however, not to meet with a
pair that suits him for the space of six months, when he
purchases two, giving for them the amount he had anticipated.
It is evident, in this case, that they have really cost him, not
only the four hundred days' labor, but all that in the country
in which he lives, that labor would have produced, besides
paying for itself, during the six months he was looking out for
the bargain. Now, as this additional outlay cannot add to the
capacity of these instruments, to the strength, swiftness, beauty,
and health, that is, of the animals, nor diminish their age,
it must be esteemed as lessening the proportion between the
return to be got from them, and the outlay expended on them,
and must move them proportionally towards the orders of
slower return. Again, it may have been that the person who
at last sold the horses, may have been desirous of selling
1 Wealth of Nations, Book V. c. III.
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE
121
lem for six months before he effected the sale, and that at the
commencement of that period he may have met with an indi-
vidual who would have purchased them, but not having antici-
pated the occurrence of so favorable an offer, happened not
then to have the necessary cash. If we suppose them to have
been merely useless to their owner during the period from
tin-nee elapsed, the service they rendered him being just
>ufticient to pay for their food and keep, still, this retardation
in the return from the outlay in the formation of them as an
instrument, also moves them for him so much towards the
more slowly returning orders, and diminishes the activity of
accumulative principle. If the individual who raised
tin-in does not receive an additional price, proportionate to
the delay, the occurrence will have a tendency to make him
give up this branch of business.
Similar events taking place in the exchange of other instru-
ments, would produce similar results, and therefore two evils
would necessarily accompany the state of affairs we have sup-
posed. There would be two drawbacks on the progress of the
industry of the society, the one consisting in the expense of
the circulating medium, the other in the loss arising from a
deficiency in it. The two together would be in proportion to
the amount of exchanges, which the progress of knowledge, the
strength of the principle of accumulation, and the quality of
the materials within reach of the society, caused to be trans-
acted. The evil directly arising from them would be the
consequent retardation of the returns from the industry of
the society, an evil equivalent to a proportional diminution of
these, and placing [the instruments producing] them in more
slowly returning orders. The evil indirectly arising from
them would be, the keeping a greater or less extent of
materials without the reach of the strength of the accumulative
principle of the society, and the consequent nonfonnation, to a
iter or less extent, of instruments that would otherwise
have been formed.
The proportion between the two would be determined by
the order to which the strength of the effective desire of
accumulation, and the time which it had had to operate, had
carried the formation .i instruments.
122 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
But the state of things we have supposed never exists. It
: cely happens, even to return to the sort of transactions we
set out from, that a butcher, a brewer, a baker, dealing
together, effect all their business either by direct barter, or
by cash. The butcher would, in very many cases, be satisfied
with the implied promise of the brewer and the baker, that, at
some future time, they will give him a quantity of the com-
modities they respectively deal in, or of money, or some
equivalent to it, equal to the price of the beef each received.
This mode of effecting the object, constitutes the system of
credit, the second of the two systems by which exchanges are
carried on. It has an existence in every country, and in most
civilized countries, as is well known, the great bulk of transac-
tions are carried on by the aid of it. Were the actual or im-
plied promise, which the party receiving the commodity makes
to him giving it, always fulfilled, it would in itself be
unattended with any loss, and might possibly be so managed as
almost entirely to supersede the use of coined money as a
medium of exchange.
The whole amount of the purchases made by any individual
within a limited time, is, in general, about equal to the sales
he effects within the same time. If, therefore, in any commu-
nity, all the exchanges, which are not direct barter, were to be
transacted by credit, and were the obligations to pay granted
by all persons engaged in business in it to expire at the same
time, when that time came round, every individual would hold
obligations to receive, to about as large an amount as he
had granted to pay. If then each individual had granted
obligations to pay, to the same persons as he had received
others from, the business would be at once concluded by a
reciprocal delivery of obligations. But this can scarcely ever
happen ; almost all the obligations to receive payment, which
any individual holds, will be from other persons than those to
whom he himself has granted obligations. The affair might
however be managed, and the same end arrived at, by a
transfer of obligations from hand to hand. A has bound him-
self to pay B fifty pounds, B to pay C fifty pounds, and C to
pay A fifty pounds. If, then, A pay B, by giving him C's
obligation, B can discharge his debt to C with it, and thus the
AN 7 D THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 123
debts and credits of the whole three be settled. By opera-
tions more complicated, but conducted on similar principles,
nearly the whole system of exchanges of any community might
be managed.
There are two obstacles to this mode of effecting exchanges
by credit. The first arising from its inherent complexedness
and difficulty, the second from the liability of the contracting
parties to fail in fultilling their engagements, from dishonesty,
miscalculation, and accidents impossible to be foreseen. These
restrict its application in general to transactions for large
amounts, little doubtful in themselves, and which from their
nature can be easily systematized and arranged. Such appears
to have been the viremens, or transfers, at Lyons. 1 Such also
are the transfers effected by the London bankers. In Kussia,
however, it would seem to be applied to transactions much more
various, and complicated. Mr. Storch informs us that the
creditors and debtors of the province of Kief, and several
others adjoining the proprietors, capitalists, merchants, those
who want funds, and those who want to dispose of them, meet
in the month of January, in the town of Kief, to make such
transfers, and that in 1804, the amount of their exchanges
was upwards of twenty millions of rubles, or about three
millions seven hundred thousand pounds sterling. Transfers
similar to these are made, he adds, at Keval, and many other
towns in the empire. 2
There is another method by which the system of credits
might be conducted, and which may be illustrated by an
example taken from a country already referred to, where
the causes exciting to its introduction, and giving preva-
lence to it, operate very powerfully. In many parts of North
America, but more especially in new settlements in Upper
Canada, the scarcity of cash, and perhaps other circumstances,
often lead traders to adopt a peculiar plan of business. Every
dealer provides himself with a general assortment of all sorts
of commodities in demand in the settlement he inhabits, and
reckons on being paid for them in the shape of grain, potash,
pork, beef, and other commodities, in the formation of which
'Ganilh, De* ityrttme* (ftconomie politique, Tome II. p. 155.
'Storch, Coura dYconomu, Tome II. p. 353.
124 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
his customers are engaged. But in this sort of barter, one
article will generally fall short or exceed the value of the
other, a pound of tea will not exchange for a hog, nor a
quarter of wheat for a dozen pounds of sugar. To obviate the
difficulty, the merchant opens an account with each of his
customers, charging him with the goods furnished, and giving
him credit for [crediting him with] the produce received, and
in this way perhaps all the transactions between the two are
managed, either by barter or credit, without the assistance of a
dollar of cash. Nor is this all ; a great variety of other trans-
actions are also effected through his intervention. Any person
who may have furnished him with an overplus of produce, or
who has credit with him, can through his means settle most
accounts or balances due on accounts. He may thus pay the
laborers, and the artificers, and tradesmen, he may employ, by
an order on the shop, or as it is called, store, of the country
dealer. Besides these, the transactions of the storekeeper
extend to the giving out of the raw produce of the country to
individuals in the settlement, tradesmen, etc., who may not
themselves have enough, and to the receipt in return of
various articles, such as axes, shoes, boots, made-up clothes ;
and in this way through his books, a very large portion of the
business of the settlement is transacted. It is not difficult to-
conceive, that the whole might be so transacted.
Were the country dealer always to have a supply of every
article in demand in the settlement, at a reasonable rate, and
were all contracts for the delivery of produce to him to be
regularly executed, almost all the requisite exchanges might be
conveniently effected through his books. But in this sort of
traffic, as the merchant always has commodities to sell, and his
customers have not always produce to return, it inevitably
happens that they get into his debt. As his object is to sell
as many goods as possible, he is very apt to allow many
to run in his debt, who do not fulfil their engagements. He
suffers from the dishonesty, or the imprudence and miscalcula-
tions of those who deal with him. Very many of his
customers are much longer of paying him than they have
promised, or they do not pay at all. Aware of the risk
he runs, he is obliged to balance it by charging an additional
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 125
sum, over and above what he would otherwise demand, on
all commodities that pass through his hands. In some cases,
this advance amounts to at least 30 per cent. In this way he
makes, or endeavors to make, the prudent and honest persons
who deal with him, pay for the imprudent and dishonest, who
deal with him. The former class, in consequence, keep
out of the circle of all such transactions, as much as possible,
and store-pay, as it is called, is depreciated. 1
Gold and silver would thus seem to have been considered,
first, simply as themselves the most precious, and easily pre-
served of all articles ; next, their capacity for being divided
and re-united without injury, would seem to have led to their
general employment in exchange for other things the acquisition
of which their possessors found useful or necessary ; 2 con-
venience then to have rendered it expedient to have them
formed into pieces of a certain weight and fineness, when they
began to constitute what is now called money ; lastly, their
general adoption as money would seem naturally to have
rendered them proper measures to give fixedness to those
obligations to future delivery of things in exchange, which the
increased security and tranquillity of modern times, and the
i amount of exchanges transacted, have in recent days
introduced. In the two latter employments, as serving for
real, or determining the rights which the possession of fictitious
money conveys, they occasionally serve as media for exchanging
all instruments, and, therefore, for determining and expressing
their relation to each other, as things capable of being
exchanged. In this way measuring all things exchanged, or
capable of being exchanged, that is, all instruments, they come
to denote the amount of instruments, or capital, or stock, which
any man possesses. A person is said to be worth five
hundred, or five thousand pounds, as he has instruments
which, in exchange, would be measured by these sums re-
spectively ; and, as in common life all things are considered,
1 [The omission at this point constitutes Part I. of the Article on Banking in
ppendix.]
the Knight parted with a link or two of his gold chain, when in need,
more ancient times the traveller carried his bag of gold dust.
126 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
not as they are, but merely in their actions and relations,
instruments come there, also, to be spoken about, and con-
ceived of, altogether in the relation they have to certain pieces
of gold and silver. 1
These are not the only effects which the exchange of instru-
ments for one another, and the consequent use of money as the
medium of exchange, have produced in our conceptions of
them. The system of exchanges, being attended by that of
credit, implies the existence of some mode of ascertaining the
amount to be rendered back, for instruments received in trust.
It is sufficiently obvious that this must be determined by the
order to which the principle of accumulation, and the time it
has had to operate, has carried the formation of instruments in
the society. If, in any society, instruments are at the order D,
doubling in four years, then one receiving an instrument on
trust, for four years, will, at the end of that period, have ta
return two of the same sort and quality. If they are at the
order E, he will have to return two at the end of five years,
etc. Thus it is a common practice in many parts of North
America, especially in new settlements, to sell cattle and sheep
on trust, the terms being that double the number thus trans-
ferred is to be returned in four or five years, as the agreement
may be made. More generally, however, much shorter periods
are adopted, for the settlement of accounts. The natural
periods of a year, and a month, have in different times and
places, been made choice of for this purpose. It is then
necessary to calculate what is due by the one party to the
other at these periods, and these calculations are naturally
made in money.
Instead, for instance, of returning two cows at the end of
five years, the bargain may be, that a proportional sum is to be
paid at the end of the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth
years. Were money paid for the cow immediately, the amount
we shall say would be twenty dollars, the double of that,
which would be the sum to be given were the time of payment
deferred till the expiration of five years, is forty dollars. The
annual payment can neither be a fifth part of the one sum,
1 [That is to say, in Rae's peculiar terminology, we consider in common life
only " relative stock " and disregard " absolute stock. "]
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 127
four dollars, nor of the other, eight dollars, but one between the
two, in this case about six dollars. Again, the bargain may
be, that a cow be returned at the expiration of the fifth year,
and that, for her use during that time, an annual remuneration
be made ; this would be a half of the former annual payment,
nearly three dollars, and that sum accordingly, when such an
arrangement takes place, is the usual yearly payment for what
is called the rent of the cow. Whatever order instruments
may be at, some similar calculation might determine, what
should be the proportion annually paid for the use of any of
them. The employment of money in these calculations has
simplified them, by the introduction of general rules. The
return which instruments make, is estimated at so much in the
hundred, or per cent, that is, in the hundred pounds, dollars, or
whatever may be the current coin. Reducing our orders to
this phraseology, they would be respectively:
A 100 per cent, per ann. H 9 per cent, per ann.
B 41 18
C 26 J 7
D19 n * K 6-5
15 L 5-9
F 12 ,, M 5-5
G10 N 5 etc.
It is on these principles, that all reckonings are made, not
only of instruments given on credit, but of those retained. In
the latter case, the annual return is termed profits of stock, in
former interest. There is, however, this difference between
the two, that, in the profits of stock, is generally included the
return that has to be made, for the mental exertion and
ty, and bodily fatigue, of the owner of the stock. There
iso, a difference between them, in common language, ari
fn>m its being the practice to speak of the more favoral>lt>
issues of instruments, as determining the rate, without reckon-
ing those that have turned out less favorably, or unfortunately.
A.lam Smith : " In a country where the ordinary rate of
i profit is eight or ten per cent, it may be reasonable tli.ti
one half of it should go to interest, wherever business is carried
on with borrowed money. The stock is at the risk of the
128 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
borrower, who, as it were, insures it to the lender ; and four or
five per cent, may, in the greater part of trades, be both a
sufficient profit upon the risk of this insurance, and a sufficient
recompense for the trouble of employing the stock." l Here,
ordinary profit evidently means, not the average profit, but the
profit of favorable years. The average profit of a merchant,
for example, is not properly the profit he makes upon his
more favorable adventures, but what he makes on all those
adventures that yield a profit, whether great or small, after
deducting the actual loss he may sustain on others. The
average profits of all the merchants of any country, also,
include their very favorable, their less favorable, and their
losing adventures. In this way, using the term profit for the
return made from the outlay expended on the formation of the
whole instruments spoken of, actual losses are also included in
it, and, in speaking prospectively of future profit, the risk of
future loss is included, and what Adam Smith calls the risk of
insurance disappears. If in a country where the average profit
is, in reality, only eight per cent., a particular merchant con-
tinue for some years to make ten per cent., he may indeed
expect, and is perhaps apt to expect, the same return in future
years; but, unless in so far as he can truly calculate on
his mercantile sagacity and activity being above par, in
so doing, he acts imprudently, and the chances are that he
is undeceived by having to sustain actual losses in succeeding
years.
We may then assume the rate of interest as a fair measure
of the real average rate of profits in any country, and conse-
quently of the order in our series, at which instruments are
there arrived. So receiving it, we shall find that it agrees very
closely with the preceding observations.
In China, we are told by Barrow, that the legal rate of
interest is twelve per cent., but that, in reality, it varies from
eighteen to thirty-six. The remarks of other authors agree
pretty accurately with this statement, fixing the orders at C or
D. The Dutch seem, of all European nations, hitherto to have
been inclined to carry instruments to the most slowly returning
orders. The durability given to all the instruments constructed
1 Wealth of Nations, Book I. c. III.
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 129
by them, the care with which they are finished, and the atten-
tion paid to preserving and repairing them, have been often
noticed by travellers. In the days when their industry and
frugality were most remarkable, interest was very low, govern-
ment borrowing at two per cent, and private people at three.
The former indicated an order doubling in about thirty-three
years, the latter, one doubling in twenty-three years. In
ancient Rome, interest was in reality exceedingly high, from
twelve to fifty per cent. 1 Were we farther to compare the
orders in which instruments appear to stand in other countries,
with the rate of interest in those countries, we should find the
two everywhere correspondent. I apprehend, however, that
is needless, for, as the reader must on consideration per-
e, it is impossible it can be otherwise. Loans, indeed, pass
under the name of money, but money is only the means of
effecting the loan, it is in reality instruments that are lent, and
must in return yield not much less [somewhat more] than
what is paid for their use, otherwise they would not be bor-
rowed, and [but] not much more, otherwise they would not be
lent.
The system of calculation, the foundation of which we have
been considering as connected with exchanges, is convenient
for all engaged in the business of transfers, and answers their
purposes very perfectly. When applied, however, to specula-
purposes, it labors under the disadvantage to which all
practical general rules are liable, when assumed as speculative
al principles. According to it, stock is regarded alto-
gether as measured by money, and an amount of stock is
considered, simply, as an amount of money, or something that
will bring money. The stocks, therefore, of different countries,
viewed as differing merely in amount, and every increase
and diminution of the stock of the same country, as a simple
addition, or subtraction, of an homogeneous quantity. These
its being so viewed, have been assumed so to exist, and the
general increase and diminution of stock have been treated of,
as things as simple in their nature, as the rows of digits
loyed to mark the amount of money by which they are
(It furore, par Boucher, Paris, 1819, p. '2.1. The laws against
, there, as elsewhere, increased, instead of diminishing the evil.
I
130 OF SEPARATION OF EMPLOYMENTS
estimated. Some of the fallacies hence arising, will be pre-
sently noted ; they will, I believe, be found to be the foundation
of much of the contradictions, in which the reasonings on these
subjects are involved.
[With respect to the particular subject touched upon in this last paragraph,
see the Article on Method in the Appendix, the passage beginning : "Thus,
if in any particular society, we were to be asked, what the capital of some
other person were," etc. At the risk of anticipating somewhat, a passage
from Chapter I. Book I. of the original is introduced here.]
The observation of Bacon is now trite, that men believe
that the words they employ in the process of reasoning, serve
the intellect as mere passive instruments, but that, in reality,
they have often an active reflex power, through which, while
the mind deems it governs them, they are enabled to usurp
the command of it, and so misdirect its course.
Our author [Adam Smith] notices the errors, which, in this
way, have arisen from the use of the term money.
" Money, in common language, as I have already observed,
frequently signifies wealth ; and this ambiguity of expression
has rendered this popular notion so familiar to us, that even
they who are convinced of its absurdity, are very apt to forget
their own principles, and, in the course of their reasonings, to
take it for granted as a certain and undeniable truth. Some
of the best English writers upon commerce set out with
observing, that the wealth of a country consists, not in its
gold and silver only, but in its lands, houses, and consumable
goods of all different kinds. In the course of their reason-
ings, however, the lands, houses, and consumable goods, seem
to slip out of their memory ; and the strain of their argument
frequently supposes that all wealth consists in gold and silver,
and that to multiply those metals, is the great object of
national industry and commerce." 1
It is remarkable that, in the use of the term capital, he
himself leads his readers into a somewhat similar error.
Capital means in common language a sum of money, or
something for which a sum of money can be got ; and, as
1 Wealth of Nations, B. IV. c. I. [See " Note D " in the Appendix.]
AND THE SYSTEM OF EXCHANGE 131
the increase both of national and individual capital produces
a sum of money, or something for which a sum of money
can be got, the similar estimation of both by a row of figures
is the thing that in this way naturally comes uppermost to
tin- mind, and hence, the things themselves in both cases
forming the increase not being immediately present to its
thoughts, it heedlessly falls into the conclusion that they
also are perfectly similar. In comparing, indeed, the national
capital as it has existed at distant periods, the small national
al of remote periods with the large national capital of
thr present, we immediately perceive, that not only the sum
at which the national wealth was formerly rated is increased,
but that the things which constituted it are changed. The
wealth of England is certainly ten times now what it was in
the reign of Henry the VIII. ; we do not conceive, however,
that it is formed by multiplying tenfold such articles as con-
stituted the sole riches of its inhabitants in that somewhat
nu It- and barbarous age. We perceive here, that there is
and must be, not only an increase but a change. When,
however, we come to consider the smaller parts of which this
iiu rease is gradually made up, as the change here is not
perhaps perceptible (and as all we see is the sum produced
ly it, the fact of the increase being more easily ascertained
than the manner of it), the similarity of the terms naturally
inclines us to conceive that it resembles the increase of
individual capital, and consists of a mere increase of things,
not of a change also in them.
CHAPTER IX.
OF INVENTION CONSIDERED AS A GENERAL
SOCIOLOGICAL PRINCIPLE.
INVENTION is the most important of the secondary agents, to
the influence of which man is subject. To us, it is the great
immediate maker of almost all that is the subject of our
thoughts, or ministers to our enjoyments, or necessities; nor is
there any portion of our existence, which is not indebted to
its antecedent forming power. Wherever it really is, it is
recognised as one and the same, by this its formative capacity.
It is always a maker, and, in a double sense, a maker. From
the depths of the infinity lying within and without us, it
brings visibly before us forms previously hidden. These are
its first works. But neither does it intend to stop, nor does
it, in fact, stop here. The forms which its eye thus catches,
and its skill " bodies forth " into material shape, pass not
away ; they remain. Things of power, true workers, drawing
to themselves, and fashioning to their semblance, the change-
able and fleeting crowd that time hurries down its stream,
they are, in truth, the only permanent dwellers in the world,
and rulers of it. In this the double power of his works, the
mathematician is as much a maker as the poet, and the poet
as the mathematician ; and genius in all its manifestations,
may, in so far, be considered as the same power, and as excited
to action by similar causes.
Our subject leads us to attend to invention, merely as it
concerns itself with the material world. But, as the motives
exciting the men in whom it is exhibited to give themselves
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 133
up to its requirements, must be held among the chief of the
causes of its manifestation, and as they who in this depart-
ment have been most extensively inventors, have in general
communicated little of the principles that animated and sus-
tained them in their career, science and art being silent of
themselves, we may be allowed to give wider compass to our
view, and to cite, when our purpose requires it, those who
have been real discoverers in any of the various regions over
which the power of this principle extends.
The motives, exciting to this sphere of action, are not very
apparent.
Man is essentially imitative ; his instincts impel him to
amalgamate with the mass. From the first moment of his
existence, his faculties are on the stretch, drinking greedily in
surrounding gestures, feelings, principles and modes of action,
which he again communicates ; he seems by turns a recipient
of existing impressions, and a transmitter of them to others.
Nor, unless he look far beyond himself, is there any evident
motive for his endeavoring to extricate himself from the ever-
whirling circle of which he forms a part. Hundreds of
millions have preceded him ; to learn and practise what they
have left, is the direct road to his goods, pleasure, and honor.
Why then should the individual waste the sweets of momentary
existence, in rashly and needlessly tasking his feeble powers
to form a new path, when one already exists, along which so
many have trodden, and which their footsteps have beaten
smooth ? One of the Jesuits having been asked, why the
se hal made no progress in astronomy beyond the rude
elements of the science that they had possessed from a very
>te antiquity, answers, from the indolence, and want of
application to these pursuits, of the men of succeeding ages,
an'l fmia their preferring, like those of the present day, what
they have esteemed their immediate and substantial interests,
to the vain and barren reputation of having discovered sorae-
' new. The reason, which the father Parennin assigns for
stationary state of their astronomy, may be transferred to
all their other sciences, arts, and pursuits, which fifty genera-
a have contented themselves with learning, practising, and
teaching, as they received them from men of times more
134 INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
distant. A well weighed attention to what is for their present,
and, as they say, substantial interests, has led them to do this,
and forbid them to do more.
In that Empire, the door to wealth and honor is not abso-
lutely barred to any one, and in this it would seem superior to
other lands, that there, whoever possesses learning has a key
that will infallibly open it. Let him who would raise himself
superior to his fellows, give his youth to study, let him care-
fully make his own a due portion of the knowledge, the wit,
the eloquence, or what passes for them, stored in the volumes
his masters put in his hands. These acquirements will be the
passports to the places round which riches and distinctions
cluster. Making use of them industriously, prudently, perse-
veringly, he may certainly attain the rank of a skilful
physician, a learned jurist, a practised and ready speaker, or,
perhaps, a man versed in the constitution and policy of the
empire, fit to take on him the office of a statesman, and share
its rewards and honors. He may be attended by obsequious
crowds ready to flatter his vanity, minister to his pleasures,
conceal his weaknesses ; alive he may be honored, dead
lamented, why then abandon these sure and substantial
advantages, to pursue what there is but a chance of gaining,
and which, even if at length attained, is but empty fame, a
breath, the filling at the best,
" A certain portion of uncertain paper."
The practical wisdom of the Chinese answers at once, it
were folly.
Is that which is sound, practical wisdom among those
Asiatics, the reverse of it among us Europeans ? The reader
may determine, by casting his eyes about him, to discover who
are the men, who have been most successful in attaining
wealth, comfort, respectability ; in avoiding dependence, mis-
fortune, calumny. Whoever, or wherever, he may be, certainly
he will not find it is they who have sought to be, or have
really been, men of genius.
We in vain search for any sufficient motive exciting
to this course of action, unless the good arising from com-
municating good, and the consequent desire to be a benefactor
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 135
in the most extended possible manner. 1 This desire is the
proper aliment of genius. " Leave me not," the lay [has] it,
In its loneliness,
Its own still world, amid th' o'er peopled world,
Hath ever breathed to love."
When very strongly felt, it irresistibly impels those who are
conscious of capacities equal to the attempt, spite of every
obstacle to be overcome, or pain to be endured, to task them-
selves to the performance of works of permanent and diffusive
utility. To reflective minds, and large and generous natures,
the creations of genius must present themselves as of all works,
those most extensively conferring enjoyment and power, 2 and
their successful execution as of every enterprise the noblest ;
nor need we wonder that to such it should have a voice of
magical, and almost resistless attraction.
When the peasant poet of Scotland seeks to recall an
linage of his earliest self, he finds there uppermost this master
passion, this "boundless love" of his fellows and his native
land, urging him to make it appear by something worthy of it,
and marking its strength. This was the wish,
" Ev'n then a wish (I mind its power,)
A wish that, to my latest hour,
Shall strongly heave my breast,"
that led him to the realms of song. This was in truth the
genius,
"Sua cuique deus fit dira cupido,"
who " threw her inspiring mantle over him," and awakening
powers else torpid, enabled him to draw from out the vulgarity
before hiding them, images not idly falling, and to fall, on
many a heart: patriotism ardent and self-devoting; passion
is is to be received aa concerns our existence, limited to the earth and
.., the only light in which it can with propriety be considered in these
speculations. Were we to view it as belonging to the universe and to eternity,
action directed to the purposes referred to, would not be impeded from the
lerations thus presented, but would, on the contrary, derive from them
freedom and energy.
inventorum noKiiium introductio inter actiones humanas longe
primas paries tenere. LORD BACON.
136 INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
manly yet tender ; love without the coarseness of the one class
of society, or the affectation or epicurism of the other.
Who can estimate all the effects of these hasty fragments of
the poet's art ? If we consider the subject well, and weigh it
fairly, we shall confess, that their author has exercised an
influence already greater, and far more abiding than any of the
men of his country and age. It is thus that genius manifests
the potency of the principle that inspires it, and that the
simplest lays of the simplest bard, may have a power passing
far, that of the triumphs of the statesman, or the warrior.
The one wakens energy, otherwise dead, into action, the other
merely directs that action.
" But," it may be said, and not without a show of reason,
" why, if genius is roused and moved by principles so pure,
does it happen, that the undoubted possessors of it, are them-
selves so often defaced by faults, and that we speak of them,
and their aberrations, as if naturally conjoined? Ambition,
the desire of excelling, a much more questionable motive,
would rather seem its proper stimulant."
As we are not attempting to investigate the governing
principles of classes [or individuals], but of societies, it were,
perhaps, enough in answer to observe, that the existence of
genius among a people, implies at least the diffusion of a
tincture of generous feelings, somewhere throughout the mass.
If we were to see an individual periling his own life to rescue
another from impending danger, it might be doubtful to us
whether the action proceeded from a desire of saving the
person in danger, or of the applause and praises following the
doing of it ; but that applause, and those praises, would them-
selves evince a general perception of the moral worth of such
an action, supposing it to proceed from the purest motives,
and correspondent sympathy in the pleasure likely to be
experienced from it. Vanity could receive no gratification
from a deed of this sort, where the spectators only regarded it
as an incomprehensible piece of rashness. In like manner,
though it seem to us, that many who have eminently succeeded
in the pursuits of which we speak, have been actuated merely
by the desire of gratifying a selfish vanity, still, that the
attainment of these objects should be followed by the warm
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 137
and sincere applause, that alone constitutes genuine fame, is a
proof at least, of the existence somewhere, of a due apprecia-
tion of the motives from which these pursuits are supposed to-
proceed, and of sympathy with the pure gratifications their
success is presumed to yield. But it enters into my design to
show, that, without supposing the two classes actuated by
different principles, there are sufficient causes for those wander-
ings as they are called, of genius from the common path, for
that contrariety of course, [and for] that seldom intermitting
opposition and strife, which have almost everywhere been
maintained, between the society in which they existed, and the
individuals, who have been ultimately the great instruments of
ameliorating and elevating its condition. Such an exposition,
removing part of the obstructions to our view, will make it
appear, that it is not so much from the diversity of the
nmvinu powers, as from the imperfections of the bodies im-
pelled, that this jarring and contrariety of action arises.
It is necessary to premise, that for the present purpose, two
es occasionally confounded together, must be kept apart.
inventors, the men whom we have alone to consider,
differ from mere transmitters of things already known. The
r are an acknowledged, and very useful class, in all
societies, but they neither encounter similar difficulties, nor
produce similar effects to the former. They neither oppose,
nor direct the current.
In the gradual progress of things, the media for communi-
cating ideas have been changed ; types have come to do, in a
great measure, the office of the voice. What in ages past
would have formed a discourse, or harangue, is now a book, or
part of a book. Among the many vast consequences of the
lution, we overlook the small one of its occasioning the
classing under one name, of those who are enlargers of the
stock of knowledge, and those who are merely efficient coin-
in unicators of portions of it. They are all successful authors,
rs, that is, of books which are read. Just so, the bard or
bards of the elder ages of ancient Greece, who first embodied
>ng the deeds of the besiegers of Troy, and they who, in
DCS, repeated the verses they had learned, were all
iters of heroic lays. Many, too, of the latter may have been
138 INVKNTION SOCIOLOGICAL
more successful chanters than the former, for they sang to ears
prepared ; but there was between them, notwithstanding, an
essential difference. There is also a line distinguishing the
mere frainers of books, from the original makers of their
materials ; it may not be very easily drawn indeed ; but this
is unnecessary for our purpose, it is sufficient to have pointed
out its existence. It may be observed, too, that as of bards,
so of authors, they who are mere compilers and repeaters, may
be more successful than they who are real inventors, they may
better suit their productions to particular times, tastes, and
exigencies, and, besides, they can always find an audience
prepared, by previous training, to applaud.
The tendency of these pursuits is to withdraw those occu-
pied in them from the daily business of society. They fill
not the places open for them, and which they are expected to
fill ; even when necessity pushes them for a time into them,
and compels them to mingle with the crowd, they are marked
as not belonging to it. Abstract and scientific truth can only
be discovered by deep and absorbing meditation ; imperfectly
at first discerned, through the medium of its dull capacities,
the intellect slowly, and cautiously, not without much of
doubt, and many unsuccessful essays, succeeds in lifting the
veil that hides it. The procedure is altogether unlike the
prompt determination, and ready confidence, of the man of
action, and generally unfits, to a greater or less degree, for
performing well the part. He, again, who dwells in the world
of possible moral beauty and perfection, moves awkwardly,
rashly, and painfully, through this of everyday life, he is ever
mistaking his own way, and jostling others in theirs. To the
possessors of fortune, these habits only give eccentricity ; they
affect those of scanty fortune, or without fortune, with more
serious ills. Unable to fight their way ably, cautiously, and
perseveringly through the bustle of life, poverty, dependence,
and all their attendant evils, are most commonly their lot.
" Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail,"
are calamities, from the actual endurance of some of which, or
the dread of it, they are seldom free. These, however, they
share with other men ; there are some peculiarly their own.
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 139
Pursuing objects not to be perceived by others, or if
perceived, whose importance is beyond the reach of their
conceptions, the motives of their conduct are necessarily mis-
apprehended. They are esteemed either idlers, culpably negli-
gent in turning to account the talents they have got, dullards
deficient in the common parts necessary to discharge the
common offices of life, or madmen unfit to be trusted with
their performance ; shut out from the esteem or fellowship of
those whose regard they might prize, they are brought into
contact with those with whom they can have nothing in
common, knaves who laugh at them as their prey, fools who
pity them as their fellows. Their characters misunderstood,
debarred from all sympathy, uncheered by any approbation,
tin "eternal war" they have to wage with fortune, is doubly
trying, because they are aware, that, if they succumb, they
will be borne off the field, not only unknown, but miscon-
ceived. To have merely to pass without his fame, the poet
paints as a fate capable of adding double gloom to the shades
below,
" Sed frons leeta parum, et dejecto luniina vultu,
Nox atra caput tristi circumvolat umbra."
Whut must it be to those, then, who feel that, ere final
oblivion hides them, calumny must for a time prolong the
memory of their existence ?
Imperfect man is ever prompt, without any consideration of
motives of the agents, to conceive of the evils he endures
as of wrongs received, and to be avenged, on the doers of
them. We need not wonder, then, that the manifold sufferings
nius should sometimes place it in opposition to humanity
i, and that, in the inconsistency and recklessness of
passion, it should turn in anger and in scorn, as its bitterest
enemy, on that of which it is, in heart, the truest lover.
These are circumstances, largely affecting the possessors of
faculty, even before they have succeeded in mukin
i test, before they have been able to give outward shape to
inward conceptions. There are others, operating simi-
, after they have succeeded in producing them. What is
nrw, has to encounter obstacles of two sorts. It is the
140 INVKNTION SOCIOLOGICAL
nature of men to be copiers, and, with exceedingly few excep-
tions, they are nothing more. Mere followers they are of
rules, walkers in well-beaten paths. Whatever, therefore, is
in any degree really new, being probably beyond these rules, is
also beyond their judgment. Nor is this the worst; it is also
very frequently in opposition to it ; it disagreeably disturbs
and jars the existing systems, by which men guide their feel-
Boilings. Hence the works of almost all men of
really inventive powers, have, at first, been either slighted
or decried. Cervantes, one of the most powerful and original
geniuses of modern times, and who ultimately operated as
largely on affairs as any man whom they have witnessed, was
placed by his contemporaries far below the subservient taste of
Lope de Vego, and, in his last days, had to turn from Don
(Juixote to a theme correspondent to the bombast of his age. 1
It is needless to multiply examples, in a similar walk Tasso,
and Shakspeare ; in another, Hume and Montesquieu ; in
another, Bacon and Galileo, experienced at first either com-
parative neglect, or partial, or general opposition. Few names
that now pass current, but rose with difficulty, and were nearly
again submerged in their earlier progress, by the shock of
opposing prejudices.
The practice of printing, has gradually, as it has extended
the circle of readers, produced effects on the productions of
genius, not here to be passed unnoticed. The author looks to
what he calls the public, to those, that is, who read or rather
to his own talents for producing works that will find readers
for the pecuniary rewards of his productions. This circum-
stance has had much effect, both in turning the powers of men
of talents to subjects that may generally interest, and in oblig-
ing them to treat them in a manner, suited to the tastes and
notions of the crowd.
Odi profanum vulgus et arceo,
is a sentiment that they neither avouch, nor act upon. That
1 We cannot read the romance of Peresiles and Sigesmundi, published after
his death; it had more success than any of his works. " Jamais cet hominc
cY-l< -hre," says one of his biographers, "ne fut a sa veritable place : on ded
ses talens, on meconnut ses vertus, on fut insensible a sa misere."
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 141
their work may be popular, men of the highest original genius
bring it out cautiously, and in a diffused form. Their experi-
ments are timid. Being, in their way, manufacturers, they
cannot afford to make such as might deteriorate the value
of their goods. They must not venture on a dish altogether
new, they confine their powers to the discovery of something
that may give piquancy to the old. If the practice be not
prejudicial to the progress of invention itself, it is fatal to the
lasting fame of the inventors. The mass keeps swelling, from
generation to generation, but how, cannot well be noted. This
result has, however, little to do with our subject ; there is
another which has much.
It being conceived to be within the compass of talent,
to procure, in this way, its own reward, genius of the highest
order, if its productions are not of a sort to bring a price from
a bookseller, receives now less recompense than even in ages
not so able [generally] to appreciate the benefits conferred by
it; and, from the same causes, the propensity to neglect it
reatest where the reading public is the most numerous.
promoters of the abstract sciences, and the arts, are no
\\ht-re less efficiently aided, than in Great Britain. There, the
observations of Lord Bacon apply nearly as forcibly as ever.
" It is enough to restrain the increase of science, that energy
and industry so bestowed, want recompense. The ability to
cultivate science, and to reward it, lies not in the same hands.
Science is advanced by men of great genius alone, while it can
only be rewarded by the crowd, or by men high in fortune or
authority, who have very rarely themselves any pretensions to
it. Besides, success in these pursuits is not only unattended
by reward or favor, but is destitute of popular praise. They
for the most part, above the conceptions of the conmion-
and are easily overthrown, and swept away, by the wind
"pular opinion. 1
itis eat ad cohebendum augmentuni acientiaruin, <|u<>d hujusmodi co-
natuH et Industrie pnumiis careant. Non cnim penes eosdem est cultura scien-
ii. et pnuinium. S< initianiin enim augmenta a tnagnis utique ingeniis
limit; et pretia et prsemia scientiarum sunt penes vulgus aut principes
iui (nisi raro admodum) vix mediocriter docti stint. (Juiucti.im hu-
jusmodi progressus, non solum pnurniis et beneticentia hominuiu, verum
Hi> INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
Without speaking of the sciences, and, in the arts, confining
our attention to those exertions of the inventive faculty the
benefits of which, obstructed by no unforeseen obstacle, have
been very largely felt, how many, even of the most successful
of these, have been adequately rewarded ? How many of them
have left their authors in poverty, or brought them to it ! The
personal history of most men, who, in modern times, have
brought into being those arts by which human power has been
so largely advanced, is little else than a narration of misfor-
tunes, and ingratitude.
Nor are the sweets of success itself, in any department
of invention, even if tasted, imcontaminated by much of bitter-
ness. It is chiefly felt at the time, as superiority, on which
wait envy and flattery. Malice, and insincerity, the great
separators of man from man, and poisoners of the pleasures of
existence, follow close after. He who gains it, attains an eleva-
tion commanding, but joyless, and unsafe.
"Though high above the sun of glory glow,
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread,
'Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow,
Contending tempests on his naked head,
And thus reward the toils, which to those summits led." l
It is death alone that can give him the full sympathies
of his fellows. When the earth wraps her noblest, none any
longer envy him ; all lament the benefactor, no one sees
the rival or the master.
These are circumstances disturbing the course of genius,
coming mainly from misapprehensions from without ; there are
others flowing from weaknesses, and imperfections, within.
There are, in every society, rules of conduct, and practices of
life, which the progress of events has gradually marked out,
and general observance hallowed. Of these, some are founded
on the principles of morality and religion, some on caprice,
some on prejudice. The breaking of any of them is always
etiam ipsa popular! laude destituti sunt. Sunt enim illi supra captum maximae
partis hominum, et ab opinionum vulgarium ventis facile obruuntur et extin-
guuntur."
1 Childe Harold.
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL U3
esteemed a crime against society, and in reality is so ; the ob-
servance of them constitutes a character, in public estimation,
perfect. The mere man of society, that is, the man of merely
imitative action, learns them uninquiringly, and diligently :
they make up indeed, almost all he knows, and all the interests
of himself and family requires he should know, of right and
wrong. If he transgress them, it is secretly and cautiously.
II. makes amends by unscrupulously and unsparingly gratify-
\\hatever is not forbid by the letter of his code, or by his
n\\n convenience. The inquirer into principles, again, takes a
wider range, it is not the morality or religion of Italy, of France,
of Britain, of North America, after which he seeks, but religion
and morality in general. He attempts to learn, not what is
delivered, but what is. The consequence is, that, while the
mere man of the world is never at a loss, but proceeds securely
in the direct path to general approbation, the man of specula-
tion very frequently wanders from it. To say nevertheless,
either that he knows not what is good or fit, or that he is not
desirous of observing it were untrue. The eye of the rider
glances over hill and dale, marks the streams, the woods, the
hamlets that diversify the prospect, and the whole configura-
of the country he traverses, and so he knows the road.
animal he rides knows it too; he knows it as giving exer-
to his limbs, and bringing him by every step he makes,
. ard, or right, or left, nearer to some stable-door. Ten to
one that, practically, the latter has a more accurate knowledge
of it than the former, and that, while the irrational shall saga-
ly and unhesitatingly follow it out, without missing a
turning, or making one blunder, the rational, especially if
ih' fancy take him to preserve something of a straight line,
shall have to pass from track to track, to leap many a hedge
and many a ditch, and having been obliged after all to make
ire in abundance, come out at last weary, jaded, and
bernired.
The ills which men of genius thus occasion and endure,
seeking for their rules of action, altogether in the
:ns which they perceive they have to the general system
of human society, without sufficiently regarding those which
necessarily connect them to the little system of some particular
144 INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
society, are merely errors in the actual course pursued, not in
the motives from which that course was adopted. There are
others more fatal, coming, not from mistakes in action, but
from errors in the motives to action, and from the imagination
that it may be allowable willingly to do a small evil, if a large
amount of good follow it. This is unquestionably a moral
error, to which men of high powers must, from the conscious-
ness of these powers, be peculiarly liable. It were painful to
bring forward instances of their succumbing to the temptation. 1
It is thus that a power, which seems to be at first wakened
to life, and to draw its earliest aliment, from the promptings
of strong desires in man, to unite himself extensively with his
fellow men, to exist with them, and for them, rather than in
himself, as it gathers strength, and predominates in any indi-
vidual, generally renders him so dissimilar to other men, in
his feelings, habits, motives, and modes of action, that it in a
1 It is strange that Cicero, as in the following passage, should seem to coun-
tenance this most common and dangerous of moral sophisms. " Quid ? si
Phalarim, crudelem tyf annum et immanem, vir bonus, ne ipse frigore confi-
ciatur, vestitu spoliare possit ; nonne faciat? Haec ad judicandum sunt facil-
lima. Nam, si quid ab homine ad nullam par tern utili, tuae utilitatis causa de-
traxeris : inhumane feceris, contraque naturae legem : sin autem is tu sis, qui
multam utilitatem reipublicae atque hominum societati, si in vita remaneas,
afferre possis, si quid ob earn causam alteri detraxeris, non sit reprehenden-
dum. Communis utilitatis derelictio contra naturam est, est enim injusta.
itaque lex ipsa naturae, quse utilitatem hominum conservat et continet, de-
cernit profecto, ut ab homine inerti atque inutili, ad sapientem, bonum, for-
temque virum transferantur res ad vivendum necessariae : qui si occiderit,
multum de communi utilitate detraxerit." De Ojfitiis, L. III.
Such reasoning, followed fairly out, would not stop until it assumed the
form which Sir Walter Scott has given it, in the speech of Anselmo.
" You are to distinguish, my son," replied the alchymist, "betwixt that
which is necessarily evil in its progress and in its end also, and that which
being evil, is, nevertheless, capable of working forth good. If, by the death of
one person, the happy period shall be brought nearer us, in which all that is
good shall be attained, by wishing its presence, all that is evil escaped, by
desiring its absence, etc. If this blessed consummation of all things can be
hastened by the slight circumstance, that a frail earthly body, which must
needs partake of corruption, shall be consigned to the grave a short space
earlier than in the course of nature, what is such a sacrifice to the advance-
ment of the holy millenium." Kenilworth, c. XXII.
A living author, in the character of Eugene Aram, gives also a striking
picture of the dangerous tendency of the same sophistry.
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 145
great measure separates him from them. Whatever he may
be, or may hope to be as an inventor, or author, as a man he
is misconceived and misapprehended. Among the men with
whom he lives, he lives as not of them, a magic circle is drawn
round him which neither he can pass without, nor they,
within. Like the attractive and repulsive powers, which one
uetic influence communicates to matter of the same sort,
the different direction in which the great moving and cement-
I'rinciple of society has been made to flow in him, and in
them, incessantly repels, and keeps him at a distance from
tlu.Mll.
This disjunction and isolation affect various natures vari-
ously. Some cannot endure it ; they cannot live but in the
constant and intimate sympathy and communion of their
fellows. They feel all the loneliness, and little of the grandeur
of the desert. They pant for the land of life, and either turn-
in. L, to it, are lost in it, their former existence being remem-
bered but as the wanderings of a dream ; or they perish, from
their incapacity to mingle with it. Their finer and gentler
natures fed, but not strengthened by contemplation, recoil
from the coarse and boisterous spirits, with whom they are
brought into contact. They sink in the conflict and pass
:i life itself,
" A precious odour cast
On a wild stream, that recklessly sweeps by ;
ice of music uttered to the blast,
And winning no reply."
To others of firmer mould, the action of these alternately
icting and repelling powers, the passing from one state of
being to another completely opposite, from the turmoil of
:t excited by braving and bearing back a world opposed,
:ie concentration of contemplative solitude, though wasting.
is invigorating. Like steel which is first made to glow in
;ind then plunged in water, the fineness of their temper
is brought out by the play of opposing elements. It is
observed by Mr. Moore, in his life of Lord Byron, that but for
the opposition he encountered, the noble poet had never stood
in ini.uht; that persecution found him, as Rousseau,
weak, left him strong.
146 INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
Some, again, the world without affording no resting place,
entrench themselves in the world within. Their excursions
outwards, are carried on as into a country permanently hostile.
To insult, to attack, to overthrow, not to subdue, or establish,
is their aim. These are the skeptics, meu seemingly abandon-
ing every other hope but that of making manifest their power,
a power that has often been greater than they themselves have
conceived, and which, doubtless, would many times have been
more happily exerted, had they found themselves in happier
circumstances. When we read, for instance, the speculations
of Hume, we do not always recollect that he had been a needy
dependent brother of a Scotch land-holder, had failed in the
only attempt he had ever made to establish himself in the
world, by entering on business, and had come to middle life,
known only as a bookish recluse, unable to do good, and only
to be tolerated, because he was too inoffensive to do harm to
any one. Such an existence may well account for much of
that shrinking within himself, that absence of all heart, that
habitual distrust, rather rejoicing to overthrow, than hoping to
establish, which characterize his philosophy. Who can tell
how great has been the influence of that philosophy, in pro-
ducing what has been, what is, and what is to be, in Britain
and in Europe ? Of this we may be assured, that they are
least aware of it, who are most affected by it.
There are yet others of higher minds, who, through hopes
disappointed, and errors committed, over the waste of the
world, and the ruins of their own hearts, can look confidently
and courageously forward, to a brighter, though far distant
prospect. It is in this spirit that Lord Bacon bequeaths his
fame to posterity, and it is through it, that he, who has been
to us so notable a benefactor, yet holds converse with us. The
manly and generous confidence with which he relies on the
better parts of human nature, and, in the midst of so many
discouraging circumstances looks forward to the ultimate reign
of truth and happiness, constitutes indeed, I may be allowed
to remark, no small part of the charm, and perhaps of the
utility of his speculations.
But, however the opposition between men of practice, and
men of speculation and invention may operate, it certainly
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 147
exists, and there are perhaps few of the latter, who have been
gifted with dispositions so happy, or fallen in times so for-
tunate, as not to have experienced some of its evils. Never-
theless, if the view which has been presented be correct, this
opposition between the two classes, the one engaged in the
application of what is already known to the production of
the means of supplying future necessities or pleasures, the
other, in the discovery of something yet unknown and
which may serve the same purposes, arises, not so much
from a difference in the motives to action, as from a diversity
in the modes of action: and the principles of our nature
ing to the advance of invention, would seem to be nearly
identical with those giving activity to the effective desire
of accumulation.
The difference between the two is rather in degree than
in kind. He who labors to provide the means of enjoyment
to wife, children, relations, friends, pursues an end in some
degree selfish. It is his own wife, his own children, his own
relations, whom he desires to benefit. The fruits of the labors
of genius, on the contrary, are the property of the whole
human race. On this account, though, in the individual,
manifestations of the inventive faculty imply a superiority
me of the intellectual powers, they rather imply, in the
society, a preponderance of the social and benevolent affections.
It is this general acuteness of moral sensation, and lively
sympathy consequently with the pleasures arising to the
individual, from the success of exertions for purposes of general
good, that can alone excite, and nourish, the enthusiasm of
genius. 1
'[In these last two paragraphs Rae seems to run sociological and economic
considerations together, with a result which is not altogether correct.
The difference between the two sets of motives under consideration is,
apparently, one not of degree but of kind. We must certainly admit
that those who in our society, especially during the last two centuries,
have made the most wonderful and useful "application of what is
Already known to the production of the means of supplying future neces-
sities or pleasures" those who have in our own day given us not the
knowledge of the properties of electricity, but the incandescent light and
the trolley are as a rule men of a certain " practical " type of character,
who have done this work undoubtedly for money and the things money
148 INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
But, though there are two of the circumstances giving
strength to the principle of accumulation, on which the pro-
gress of the inventive faculty is equally dependent, there
are yet a set of causes, the effects of which, while they
paralyze the exertions of the one, rouse the other to activity.
Whatever disturbs, or threatens to disturb, the established
order of things, by exposing the property of the members
of the society to danger, and diminishing the certainty
of its future possession, diminishes also the desire to accumu-
late it. Intestine commotions, persecutions, wars, internal
oppression, or outward violence, either, therefore, altogether
destroy, or at least very much impair, the strength of the
effective desire of accumulation. On the contrary, they excite
the inventive faculty to activity. The excessive propensity
to imitation, which is natural to man, seems the only means
by which we can account for this diversity of effects. Men
are so much given to learning, that they do not readily become
discoverers. They have received so much, that they do not
easily perceive the need of making additions to it, or readily
turn the vigor of their thoughts in that direction. "They
seem neither to know well their possesions, nor their powers ;
but to believe the former to be greater, the latter less, than
they really are." 1 Whatever, therefore, breaks the wonted
order of events, and exposes the necessity, or the possibility,
of connecting them by some other means, strongly stimulates
invention. The slumbering faculties rouse themselves to meet
the unexpected exigence, and the possibility of giving a new
and more perfect order to elements not yet fixed, animates to
a boldness of enterprise, which were rashness, had they as-
sumed their determined places. Hence, as has often been
remarked, periods of great changes in kingdoms or govern-
ments, are the seasons when genius breaks forth in brighest
will bring. To make money, it must be remembered, is with us the
conventional standard of success in the realm of affairs.
But when all is said, Eae's teaching holds without a flaw in one re-
spect, and that is, that every institution and individual activity, economic
and otherwise, is carried on, and has its being, in the environment of
the general moral order.]
1 Novum Organum.
INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL 149
lustre. The beneficial effects of what are termed revolutions,
are, perhaps, chiefly to be traced, to their thus wakening the
torpid powers ; the troubling of the waters they bring about,
undoes the palsy of the mind. 1
On this account courage distinguishing well between things
difficult and things impossible, and calmly estimating them
not as they appear to vulgar prejudices, but as they are,
us to be a necessary element in the composition of genius
of a high order. Without the possession of such a faculty, it
is impossible clearly to discern the things which changes have
brought to light or produced, or to make free use of them.
The comparison which Lord Bacon makes between Alexander
the Great and himself, is far from being forced. Neither
could have accomplished what he did, had he not been able to
despise what had only a vain show, and to discover and trust
to real though underrated powers. 2
[It may be worth while to add to this chapter a fragment
of liae's unpublished manuscript which runs as follows : ]
" It is through his intellectual and reasoning powers that
man has the capacity to call into existence what are called
the advances of the arts. But these, his intellectual and
reasoning energies, do not rouse themselves to such enterprises,
but seem to be dormant within him unless excited by his
feelings, emotions, passions. In the absolute solitude of the
wilderness, where his soul is stirred by none of these, he
degenerates nearly to the level of the brute, seeking only food
'[See "Note L" in the Appendix.]
*"Atque hac in parte nobis apondemua fortunam Alexandri Magni :
neque quia noa vanitatia arguat, antequam exitum rei audiat, qua ad
exuendam omnem vanitatem apectat.
"Etenim de Alexandra et ejus rebua geatia Machines ita loquutua eat:
No* certe vitam mortalem non vivimua ; aed in hoc nati aumua, ut poateritas
de nobis portenta narret et predicet : perinde ac si Alexandri res gestaa
'uiraculo habuiaaet.
vt aril sequentibua Titua Liviua meliua rem advertit et introapexit,
atqae de Alexandra hujuamodi quippiam dixit : Eum non aliud <|ii.m.
bene auaum vana contemnere. Atque simile etiam de nob is judirium
futuria temporibua factum iri exiatimamua : Noa nil magni feciaae, aed
tan turn ea qua pro magnia habentui. minoris feciaae."
150 INVENTION SOCIOLOGICAL
and protection from the inclemencies of the weather. It is
in society alone that he finds those influences that move and
feed his moral and intellectual nature, and give him his proper
life. He is in fact the creature of society, and all his passions,
emotions, feelings, may in one sense be considered as so many
social instincts binding him to it. Now in herding animals,
and in this regard man is a herding animal, it is not the
individual but the herd that moves. If the individual attempt
a separate and independent movement [beyond a certain point],
he is sure to find that it is ineffectual as to the herd, and
dangerous to himself. If one blessed or cursed with keener
eyes and a more sagacious nose than his fellows discover in
the distance fresher and greener pastures, and direct his
course to them, he becomes a wanderer from the flock, a stray
one, a lost one. It is the same among men. One whose
powers transcends those of his fellows and who, trusting to them,
advances far beyond them, is so bedimmed to their eyes by the
mists of distance that they think he has gotten out of this
real, living, and tangible world, and is walking in the clouds, is
wandering in the unreal splendors of fairy land. It is only
when by chance the course of subsequent events brings them
to the spot where they discern the marks of his footsteps, that
they say one to another, why, such a one was not in the
clouds at all : he was walking on solid ground. How blind
was man in those days ! Such a one is said to have come
before his time, or, which is much the same thing, to have
been out of place."
CHAPTER X.
OF THE CAUSES OF THE PROGRESS OF INVENTION AND
OF THE EFFECTS ARISING FROM IT, AS IT CONCERNS
KLF WITH THE MATERIAL WORLD.
INVENTION is the only power on earth that can be said to
:e. J It enters as an essential element into the process of
increase of national wealth, because that process is a
creation, not an acquisition. It does not necessarily enter
into the process of the increase of individual wealth, because
thiit may be simply an acquisition, not a creation.
Would we take time to consider of it, we must perceive
such an increase of national capital as individuals [usually]
make of individual capital, 2 is at least, unlikely, seeing there
is no apparent cause for it. Considering capital in general,
only use we can discover for it is its enabling the com-
munity to draw from the resources the country affords, the
necessaries, conveniences, and amusements of life, its supply
hich, according to our author, constitutes its real wealth.
only so far as it is instrumental to this end that we can
see a use, and therefore find a reason, for its existence. Now,
ike use of the term creation, because that of production, which other-
wise I should have preferred, has been employed in another sense. I trust my
s will not be misconceived. M Kt i.im invents quasi novae creationcs sunt,
urn operum imitamenta, ut bene cecinit ille :
" Primum frugiferos fcetus mortalibus agris
Dididerant quondam pra-stanti nomine Athenae :
Et recreaverunt vitam, legesqne rogarunt."
Koimm Orpanum, CXXIX.
That is, a mere "accumulation," or "multiplication of items."]
152 INVENTION ECONOMIC
as one individual is more provident and prudent than another,
we can easily conceive how one may come to procure for
himself a greater share than another of the national funds, the
means, or instruments, serving to unlock the stores which
the nation [already] possesses ; but it is not so easy to con-
ceive how, or for what purpose, a general increase of these
means or instruments should take place, without some accom-
panying discovery of an improvement in their construction by
which they may put additional stores within reach of the nation.
We may easily perceive this, by attending to any of the
numerous small items of which the national capital is com-
posed. I shall take an example of a very small one. The
only instrument used for threshing out grain in Great Britain,
until of recent years, was the flail. Hence one or more flails
formed a part, though a small part, of every farmer's capital,
and therefore all the flails that all the farmers had, a part,
though an exceedingly inconsiderable part, of the national
capital. So simple an instrument and one so easily formed,
was made, I believe, generally, by the farmer or his servants,
though sometimes by professed mechanics. In whatever way
fabricated, it is evident, however, that the number of flails
made, though from the convenience of having a supply pro-
vided beforehand they would exceed, could never much ex-
ceed, the number of persons employed in the operation of
threshing. A professed flail-maker, indeed, if diligent and
intelligent, might, by the aid of these qualities, have been able
to make them cheaper than his neighbors, and, if economical,
to extend his business and come to have some amount of
capital in this shape. But, though thus, by his industry and
frugality, an individual might have accumulated capital under
this form to an extent to which we can set no precise limits,
the national capital never could have been so increased,
because, if one person by greater diligence and activity made
more flails, another, from a deficiency of these qualities, would
make fewer ; or, if we suppose all the makers of the instru-
ment to be alike industrious, and thus the stock of it to
accumulate so as to do more than supply the wants of the
threshers, the article would remain on their hands, and they
would naturally cease to produce the superabundant supply.
INVENTION ECONOMIC 153
While, therefore, the instrument retained this less perfect form,
it is, I think, pretty evident, that, though individuals might
accumulate capital by making flails, neither the national
capital, nor the national revenue, would be much increased
by their efforts so directed.
About forty years ago, the easier and more perfect method
of executing this process, by what is called the threshing
machine, was invented. This new instrument, though far
more expensive than the former, yet, performing the operation
more effectually, and with much less labor, became naturally
things which farmers were desirous of having. A farmer could
have had no motive to accumulate but a very trifling capital
in the shape of flails, because half a dozen were as useful to
him as half a thousand ; but he had a great motive to accumu-
late a considerable capital in the shape of a threshing machine,
because it would save him much annual expenditure of labor,
ami the operation so performed, separating the grain more
effectually, would give him a small addition to the corn yielded
ly his subsequent crops. Accordingly its invention was fol-
<l by the accumulation in this form of a large amount of
al, and so by an increase of the whole agricultural capital
of the nation. But, besides this direct effect, the saving it
produced in one of the main processes of agriculture augmented
profits of the farmers, and tended, therefore, to make all
ers cultivate their farms more perfectly, and some to-
_je in improving land not before cultivated. Both the
direct and the indirect effects of this invention, therefore,
must have helped, in no inconsiderable degree, to augment the
agricultural capital, and so the whole capital of the nation. 1
It readily occurs to every individual that the quantity of
hardware, the number of pots and pans, is in every country
limited by the use which there is for them ; that it would be
absurd to have more of such utensils than are necessary for
cooking the victuals usually consumed there ; and that, if the
tity of victuals were to increase, the number of pots and
pans would readily increase alon^ with it, a part of the in-
creased quantity of victuals being employed in purchasing
i, or in maintaining an additional number of workmen
'[In this paragraph Rae closely follows Lauderdale. ]
154 INVENTION ECONOMIC
whose business it was to make them." l But, though the
national capital cannot thus be supposed to accumulate in the
shape of an additional number of pots and pans [of any
fixed type], individuals who deal in hardware frequently
accumulate capitals in this shape, to a large amount. We
can easily conceive, that the national capital also might
accumulate in this shape, were some discovery, producing MM
improvement in the manufacture, to occur. Were a method
discovered of procuring and manufacturing platina, or some
metal similar to it, at only four or five times the cost of
brass, it would, without doubt, be employed in the fabrica-
tion of kitchen utensils of all sorts. Not being acted on by
fire, and other destroying agents, it would save a great deal
of the drudgery of the kitchen, and, though more costly at
first, would probably, on the whole, be preferred by good
economists. Thus, pots and pans becoming more expensive
articles, the amount of national capital, or stock, accumulated
in them, would be much greater, and, through this improve-
ment, the whole national capital would, with advantage to
the society, be somewhat augmented. 2
If any one will, in a similar manner, consider any of the
other articles which help to make up the national capital, I
think he will have difficulty in assigning a sufficient reason,
from any of the views presented in the Wealth of Nations,
for its increase, unless he connect this increase, somehow or
another, with some improvement in the particular department
of industry of which its production makes a part, or in some
other department dependent on it. He will perceive, that,
though there is no difficulty in conceiving that an individual
may accumulate a very large capital in the form of any of
those articles or commodities, the total of which make up
the national capital ; with the exception, perhaps, of money
itself, there is difficulty in discovering a reason for the accumu-
lation of any of them, throughout the whole community, so as
to form any sensible addition to the national capital.
It may perhaps appear, that, in whatever shape the indi-
vidual members of the community may accumulate capital,
1 Wealth of Nations, B. IV. c. I.
2 [For use of terms, see the end of the chapter.]
INVENTION ECONOMIC 155
yet, that the efforts of the greater number being thus directed,
they might accumulate it under some shape or another. We
are not, however, it will be recollected, here discussing a
possibility, but a self-evident principle; not what might be,
but what must be. Now, there is no necessity for imagining
that this must be the case, for, without entering at all into the
minima.' of the subject, it is not difficult to perceive that the
action of the principle which prompts to save, itself brings
about a state of things, which diminishes the desire to save.
A person must be most desirous of getting money when he
perceives, that by the acquisition of it, he could make a great
deal out of it ; when it is manifest to him, that, if he had a
sufficient capital, he could enter on some branch of business
that would be very profitable. When an opening of this sort
presents itself to a prudent and enterprising, though poor man,
the exertions he makes to gather together a small sum are
sometimes almost incredible. But, if the principle were to
prevail so generally as to fill up every branch of business
within the society, the desire to acquire capital so as to enter
on some of the particular businesses carried on in the society
would naturally be diminished throughout the whole country ;
and this general diminution of the motives to accumulate,
it be sufficient to preserve the national capital within the
bounds it had acquired, and prevent it, for a time, from gaining
farther increase.
r is there any thing in the appearance of human affairs,
which should induce us to conclude that the increase of
>nal capital ever does, in fact, proceed, unless in con-
junction with some successful effort of the inventive faculty,
improvement of some of the employments formerly
practised in the community, or some discovery of new arts.
Ii we cast our eyes over the results which either reading or
observation presents to us, concerning the condition of different
>ns, we gather from our review, that many of them, in
regard to the acquisition of wealth, have apparently remained
<>nary for ages, although undisturbed by external violence,
and unmolested by internal tumults. During all the time,
however, the process <>1 individual accumulation was going on;
men were continually rising from poverty to affluence, founding
156 INVENTION ECONOMIC
families, and leaving wealth to their descendants : but this
wealth passed away from them ; what the father gathered was
not able to maintain his race, and they gradually sank to the
rank from which he had emerged. The proportion, meantime,
between rich and poor, and the total wealth of the community,
remained but little changed.
At length, in some quarter or another, an improvement
began to be perceived. What do we find to have been the
most prominent accompaniment of this change ? Is it a
diminished expenditure an increased parsimony a frugality
before unknown ? I believe not. Any great diminution of
the expenditure of a whole community, it will be found
difficult to trace, but we shall always discover that invention
has somehow or another been busy, either in improving agri-
culture and the other old arts, or in discovering new ones.
It is only when some great and striking improvement issues
from the exertions of the inventive power, that we in general
attend to its effects. Every one readily grants, that, but for
the invention of the steam engine, the capital of Great Britain
would want much of its present vast amount. We perceive
not so readily the numerous small improvements, which have
been gradually, from year to year, spreading themselves through
every department of the national industry. But, though not so
palpably forced on our observation, we pass them by, they never-
theless exist, and sufficiently account for the manner in which
the national capital has been augmenting, by being gradually
accumulating in them, without the necessity of supposing that
it ever has augmented precisely as that of individuals generally
does, by a simple multiplication, under the same form, of any
or all the items of which its amount was before made up. 1
Adam Smith himself admits, that a country may come to be
fully stocked in proportion to all the business it has to
x [Rae goes too far here and gives improperly a collectivist bias to the whole
discussion. Because individuals may increase their capital merely by a process
of simple multiplication (or, as he calls it elsewhere, by a process of "acquisi-
tion" in contrast to one of " creation"), it does not follow that "generally "
they do so accumulate. The antithesis should not be between the individual
and society, but between the principles of invention and mere acquisitive
accumulation (which Rae himself brings out later), working in different
individuals. After all, it is the individual who invents, not society.]
INVENTION ECONOMIC 157
transact, and have as great a quantity of stock employed, in
every particular branch, as the nature and extent of the
territory will admit. He speaks of Holland also, as a country
which had then nearly acquired its full complement of riches ;
where, in every particular branch of business, there was the
greatest quantity of stock that could be employed in it. 1 It
Id then appear that, even according to him, the principle of
individual accumulation, as a means of advancing the national
capital, has limits beyond which it cannot pass. The same
not be said of that increase which is derived from the
attainment of those objects at which the inventive faculty aims.
Had Holland, sixty years ago, been put in possession of the
astonishing improvements in mechanical and manufacturing
industry, which, since that period, have sprung up in Great
Britain, who can suppose that she would have wanted ability
to continue in the successful pursuit of wealth ; or, that she
would not have started forward with fresh vigor in the career,
and advanced in it with greater rapidity than in any former
period of her history ?
There is no avoiding the admission, that, to every great
advance which nations make in the acquisition of wealth, it is
necessary that invention leading to improvement should lend
its aid ; and, granting this, it necessarily follows (as when one
^ause is discovered sufficient to account for the phenomena, we
-h'.iild confine ourselves to it), that we are not warranted to
assume that they make even the smallest sensible progress
without the aid of the same faculty.
To this general observation there are only two apparent ex-
ceptions. The progress of commerce by the increase of some
icular branch of it, or by the opening of fresh branches ;
and the settlement of new countries.
If these, however, should be esteemed exceptions to the obser-
vation with regard to any particular nation or nations, they are
extensions of it with regard to all the nations of the earth ; im-
:ig that the increase of general wealth is connected with
the general spread of invention, or inventions, over the world. 2
> alth of Nation*, B. I., c. IX
'[The two foregoing interpolations are from Bk. I., Chap. I., of the
original ; the first from p. 15, the second from pp. 1 !--'. j
158 INVENTION ECONOMIC
Besides the circumstances determining the progress of in-
vention arising from the nature of man, the inventor, there
are others depending on the modes in which the principles of
that nature are excited to exert themselves in this sphere of
action, and gradually to discern and develope the qualities and
powers of the various divisions of the material world.
The surface of the earth presents a vast variety of materials.
Soils, climates, minerals, vegetables, the fish of the waters, the
birds of the air, and the beasts of the field, are endlessly diver-
sified, and, could we bring back the surface of the globe to the
state in which it existed when man first made his appearance
on it, we should probably scarcely find any two points in all
respects alike.
This diversity of materials seems to have been [originally]
the great exciting cause to the progress of art and science, men
having been every now and then compelled or induced to
adopt new materials, and, as they changed from the one to the
other, to have been gradually led from the knowledge of the
most simple and obvious qualities and powers, to a perception
of those which are more complex, and difficult to discern.
Tracing any invention upwards to its first beginnings,
shall discover that these have been exceedingly rude and
imperfect, proceeding from the simplest, and what would seem
to us, the most obvious observations ; and that it has advanced
towards perfection, by having been led to change the materials
with which it originally operated, and passing from one to
another, has at each step of its progress discovered new quali-
ties and acquired new powers.
I believe a lengthened inquiry into the history of inventions
would lead to the following conclusions :
1st. Arts change materials. It having become difficult or
impossible for men to obtain the materials with which they
had been accustomed to operate [in any branch of industry],
they have been led to adopt others, and, retaining the know-
ledge of the qualities and powers of the old, have added to-
them those of the new.
2d. Different arts adopt the same materials. Men have
been encouraged to operate with new materials, from materials
being presented to them evidently better suited to their
INVENTION ECONOMIC
purposes than the old, could they be made submissive to
their art.
3d. The operation of these circumstances has slowly dimin-
ished the propensity of mankind to servile imitation, and given a
beginning to science, by bringing to light the qualities and powers
common to many materials the general principles of things.
The limited objects of the present inquiry, however, forbid
our entering into the lengthened train of speculation, that
would be necessary fully to establish these conclusions by an
adequate investigation of the progress of inventions. I shall
content myself with adducing a sufficient number of instances
to show, that this continual change has been a circumstance
operating very beneficially and efficiently, in enlarging the
bounds of human knowledge and power.
When men are deprived of the materials with which they
i to operate in the production of necessaries, and between
them and want have only such as are similar, but not the
same, one of two things must happen. They must either
uer the difficulties of the new matter, or must perish. In
the earlier ages of the world, it is scarce to be doubted, that
the latter event was of not infrequent occurrence. Tribes
forced from their homes by more powerful tribes, must have
been often led by hope, or driven by despair, into regions that
had not before yielded to the dominion of man. But the
materials which different regions present to human industry,
are very seldom precisely alike. The new would differ from
the old, in being in some respects worse, in others better
adapted to its purposes, than they. The difficulties are much
more apparent than the benefits, the former having generally to
be overcome, before the latter be apprehended, or distinctly
perceived. The attempt, then, would probably never be made,
Inn for the promptings of necessity. Its success has two
advantages. The subjection of the obstacles carries the invcn-
faculty a step farther forward ; the larger returns made,
.-,' to the circumstances in which the new material is
rior, in- rcase the rewards of industry. As the success of
the attempt would advance the skill and the power of those
who made it, so its failure would abandon them to famine. In
the former case, the individuals whose intelligence and courage
160 INVENTION ECONOMIC
overcame the obstacles, would be exalted by posterity into
gods and demi-gods ; in the latter, the field would remain open
to more successful essays, in other times, and by other races.
An inquiry, however, into the progress of the arts essential to
the existence of man in any form of society, would carry us
back to ages too remote, and involved in an obscurity too deep
to penetrate.
None of the arts which are not necessary to the preservation
of human existence itself, has probably had greater influence
on the modes which that existence has assumed, than metal-
lurgy. Without the metals, it would be impossible for the
series of instruments to be continued from which the wants of
civilized society are supplied, and without them, consequently,
mankind could never have emerged from barbarism. There
are few arts, either, in which the processes have probably at
first been more rude, in which they have ultimately attained
greater perfection of skill, or in which the progress has been
more gradual, and more dependent for its advance on the
variety of the materials operated upon. Some metals are
found in quantity pure ; the ores of some are easily reduced, of
others, with great difficulty. Of all the substances he attempts
to classify, none, from their number and variety, give greater
trouble to the mineralogist. The discovery of the qualities of
such portions of these metals as were found pure, would soon
make them be considered as the most useful of substances, and
occasion their being sought after with avidity. The supply
of them in this state being exhausted, or they who had
employed them moving into regions where they could no
longer be found, recourse would gradually be had to the
less pure and less easily reduced ores, and from thence to
metals and ores wrought with still greater difficulty. Thus
we find that gold, silver, and copper, the metals that most
frequently occur native, were those first in use ; iron came
last, and was probably then esteemed the most precious.
Weapons of gold and silver were edged with it, in the same
manner as were wooden implements, such as the old English
spade, in more recent days. But for the gentleness of the
ascent, it is altogether likely, that the art would never have
attained the eminence it has gained. Had the earth, for in-
INVENTION ECONOMIC 161
stance, possessed no metallic stores but the more abundant ores
of iron, by far the most useful in the present days, it seems not
unlikely, that no metal would ever have been wrought. The
steps by which it rose, were, however, too numerous, and the
vestiges left of them are too indistinct, for me to attempt here
to trace them, were I even prepared so to do. I prefer rather, in
illustration of the subject, to refer to an art which has been in prae-
tor thousands of years, and to an implement in daily use.
The plough, in its most simple form, is an instrument the
invention of which would naturally follow the domestication of
the ox species. Men accustomed to loosen and stir the earth,
with the inefficient implements of that ancient period, could
6 in time fail to remark, that the sluggish strength of
this animal might aid them in the operation. They seem to
have turned it to this purpose, by a very simple contrivance.
A long crooked sapling, similar to the clubs used by boys in
some of their games, but larger, had its thick, curved end
sharpened to a point, and its other extremity attached to
something like what is now called a yoke, coupling two oxen
by the neck. The long straight part of the implement passed
between the animals, the part turned downwards rested on the
earth behind them, and when they moved forward, along soil
very easily impressed, would mark it with a furrow, which
miu'ht be deepened by a man walking close after, and pressing
it downwards. He was assisted in this operation by the
addition of a handle projecting upwards, the point was hardened
by the action of the fire, and another person guided the oxen.
Such was probably the earliest plough, and those that are used
in many parts of the east, to this day, differ not much from it,
with the exception of the point being defended by a sort of iron
tooth, and the wood not having a natural, but an artificial
curvature. In Java, a man when he has done his day's work,
ies home his plough on his shoulder, as a woodman does
his axe. The defects of such an implement are to us very
; It only scratches the soil, it cannot make what we call
a furrow, and it is only very light, sandy soil, or the sort of
mini in which rice is cultivated, on which it is at all capable
of acting. As the quantity of this sort of soil is in all parts
of the world limited, men were gradually forced to attempt the
L
162 INVENTION ECONOMIC
tillage of land more difficult to subdue. Over the greater
part of Asia, they have done so, by a simple enlargement and
strengthening of the first rude implement. The model im-
mediately before their eyes seems to have so confined their
powers of invention, that they attempted no change but this.
In that part of the world, if we except China, and the countries
bordering on Europe, the earth is consequently scratched, or at
best stirred, it is not in our sense of the word ploughed. The
improvements which we have made in the operation are two-
fold ; the first concerns the effect produced on the soil, and the
second, the ease with which it is produced. The furrow we
form makes each portion of soil operated upon, describe about
one third of a circle, thus blending all the parts of the surface
together, leaving it very open, and placing the vegetable fibres
in the position best suited to induce decay. The turn, too,
thus given to each portion, puts it out of the way of the next,
which is therefore, with comparative ease, moved into its proper
position.
It seems not to have beeii until the instrument got to
Europe, that it assumed a form capable of executing such an
operation. Such was probably the Roman plough, the wood-
work of which is thus described by Virgil :
" Continue in sylvis magna vi flexa domatur
In burim, et curvi formam accipit ulraus aratri,
Huic a stirpe pedes temo protentus in octo,
Binae aures, duplici aptantur dentalia dorso.
Ca?ditur et tilia ante jugo levis, altaque fagns,
Stivaque, quse currus a tergo torqueat imos ;
Et suspensa focis explorat robora fumus.
An elm bent with great strength in the woods, is forced
into a buris and receives the form of the crooked plough. To
it are fitted the temo stretched out eight feet from the lower
end, the two aures, the dentalia with the double back, and the
stiva which bends the lower part of the plough behind. The
light lime tree is felled beforehand, for the yoke, and the lofty
beech for the other parts, and the smoke seasons the wood
hung up above the fire." 1
I see not that this buris, which has given some of the
1 Georgic I. 170. Translated by Adam Dickson, Husbandry of the. Ancient '^
INVENTION ECONOMIC 163
commentators a little trouble, can be any thing else than the
original crooked sapling, here swollen to a large elm knee, form-
ing the body of the plough, inflexi grave robur aratri, and to
which all the other parts are appended. From it, instead of
the longer straight part of the sapling, stretched forward a
separate piece, termed the temo or pole, and the stiva, or handle,
was retained. So far there was very little difference from the
original instrument, but in the aures, the ears, we have the
beginnings of the mould board, and there is a place for the
reception of the vomer, the large cutting iron share. These
appendages, the more difficult soil of some parts of Italy prob-
ably introduced ; and when adopted in one part, they could
scarce fail to spread over it all.
The plough thus changed into an instrument for turning
over, not merely stirring the soil, was carried by the Romans
into other, and more northern regions, and transmitted to
other races. These and subsequent revolutions, obliterated the
imitation of the original curved sapling. The curve became an
angle formed by a short downright beam or pillar, the sheath
or forehead, fitted into the shortened pole or temo, and bearing,
as before, the chief stress of the draft. Greater symmetry and
lightness were thus given to it. The mould board gradually
attained its present form, the coulter and another handle were
added. In recent days, it has been made nearly altogether of
iron. In Britain, where this revolution in the material was
introduced, it is deserving of notice that the metal implement,
that its parts are slenderer, is an exact copy of the
wooden one. There is yet too the sheath. In some, at least,
of the American iron ploughs, the sole connexion between the
upper and lower parts, unless that given by the mould boards
Ives, is a strong bolt screwing tight. For a plough of
such materials, this last metamorphosis of the original saplinu
>ris, would seem the better construction.
Thus, the moving of this implement from one region and
people to another, the consequent adaptation of it to different
and more difficult soils, and the change of the materials of
which it is formed, seem to have been the occasions of its
successive improvement. They have stimulated the faculty of
ition, and weakened the propensity to servile imitation.
164 INVENTION ECONOMIC
The instrument, so changed, it may be remarked, is on its
return to countries in which, perhaps, it first assumed form.
English ploughs are to be seen in India, and some modification
of them must, in time, become the general plough of the
country.
Our next example of the effects of these circumstances on
the development of the inventive faculty, will be taken from
the progress of sacred architecture. It conspicuously exhibits
the strength of the principle itself, and the trammels by which
its energies are sometimes confined.
When men worship the deity, they find their devotional
dispositions assisted by the presence of external objects, par-
taking of his attributes. Thus, whatever brings sensibly
before us the ideas of very great power, and unlimited dura-
tion, fills the mind with thoughts that are very near akin to
devotion. Hence, men in almost all ages and countries, have
either made choice of particular natural objects, inspiring such
ideas, as concomitants of their devotions, they have wor-
shipped turning to the sun, or in groves, or on the tops of
mountains ; or they have formed things, having in their con-
ceptions a sort of unison, in this way, with the object of their
worship.
Of all the people who have employed themselves in forma-
tions of this sort, and devoted a portion of their industry to the
construction of instruments serving, in some degree, to satisfy
those natural longings of the human mind after something
bringing before it the perfections of the deity, none have been
more eminently successful than the Egyptians. The sudden-
ness with which the art there attained an excellence, that even
now commands our fullest admiration, is a phenomenon well
deserving the attention of speculators on the extent of the
human powers when roused to free and active exertion.
Several circumstances seem to have contributed to deter-
mine the form which architecture there assumed, and to carry
it at once from infancy to maturity.
One of the manifestations of power most apt to attract the
notice of men in the early stages of society, as very great, is
the moving of large blocks of stone. To men altogether igno-
rant of the mechanic powers, however strong and numerous, to
INVENTION ECONOMIC 165
move a cubic stone of the weight of only two tons would be
impossible ; for, enough of them could not get hold of it. To
men again, having made a certain degree of progress in art,
and aware of the advantage, for instance, of the lever, though
it might then be practicable to move into an upright posi-
tion pillars of even a few tons weight, such objects would
still seem very striking displays of power. They would also
impress them with the ideas of extended duration, which the
indestructible nature of the material, is calculated to produce.
Accordingly we find that the erection of such columnar masses,
has been a very common act of men, in rude states of society,
in their efforts to draw themselves near to some conception they
have had of the great first cause.
But it is not mere blind power, and eternal duration, that is
attributed to the deity ; besides this, all men ascribe to him un-
erring wisdom, and most men, boundless benevolence. Regu-
larity of design, then, especially if combined with visible utility,
renders any object of great and changeless power, more fitting
to inspire religious sentiments. On this account the sun, of
all objects continually before our eyes, is that most generally
turned to with religious feelings.
Symmetry of design may be given to collections of columns,
by preserving them at regular distances, and forming them
into circular, or straight lines. The circles of the Druids in
Scotland, and in other parts of Europe, are examples of this
sort of form. Greater unity would be given to an erection of
thi- sort, by the addition of horizontal pieces, stretching from
the top of the one pillar to that of the other, and partially
roofing in the fabric. Such an addition would also heighten
notion of power embodied in the work. The poising large
masses of stone on the summits of elevated columns, must
have appeared a stupendous exertion of power, to those who
first contemplated it. Such seems to have been the character
of the famous druidical temple of Stonehenge. A form similar
to this, would therefore seem likely to be that, which the
ancient Egyptians must have been inclined to give the religious
edifices they constructed, when leaving the higher grounds,
1 >e<jan to descend and occupy the plains ; and such is, in
fact, the general outline which the ruins of their edifices yet
166 INVENTION ECONOMIC
present. But they possessed arts which enabled them to give
their edifices a degree of grandeur, far superior to the rude
structures of the ancient Britons.
They were probably either themselves workers of stone, or
had the means of knowing how stone may be wrought. The
more ancient Troglodytes were perfect in the art of cutting
stone. Their labors were confined, however, to forming ex-
cavations in rock, they do not seem to have ever thought of
dividing these rocks into fragments, and again reuniting them
into some required form. Indeed, this is an idea, that could
not very readily occur as a means of facilitating the formation
of structures of the sort. Here, as in other instances, the
beginnings of art are simple, but laborious. It is invention
that abridges the amount of labor necessary for attaining the
end, and substitutes skill and contrivance, for toil and per-
severance. A sort of necessity, brought about by the occupa-
tion of a new region, and the desire to have rocky edifices on
the alluvial plane, probably led the Egyptians to effect this
revolution.
The possession of another art, made it of less difficult execu-
tion. Egypt, a long level valley periodically overflowed,
afforded peculiar facilities for the transport by water, of even
the heaviest articles. The largest masses separated from the
rocks that bordered the great canal, into which it was trans-
formed during the time of the inundation, had only to be
moved to rafts stationed close by, when they could be trans-
ported to any required situation. The riches also of that
celebrated valley, then probably recently exposed to human
industry by the retiring waters, and which the efforts of fifty
centuries have not yet exhausted, gave the inventive faculty
as its instrument, an almost unlimited command of labor.
Genius was not wanting to reach lofty conceptions, or to
apply the means put in its hands so as to give them an
adequate form. The works it produced were the admiration
of antiquity, and are the astonishment of modern times.
Architecture, with the other arts of Egypt, was carried to
Greece. It retained, nevertheless, the same essential character,
the effects it produced arising from the magnitude and propor-
tions of massive blocks, arranged in columns and transverse
INVENTION ECONOMIC 167
pieces. A comparison of the two does not give the one much
superiority over the other. Both possess sublimity and unity
of design, and beauty of execution, and if the Grecian has
ter elegance, the Egyptian has greater grandeur. But if
the colony did not much excel the parent country in archi-
tecture, there is no comparison between them in the sister art
of sculpture. Architecture and statuary were combined by
the ancient Egyptians. The earliest human figures cut in
stone, that have come down to us, are those executed by them,
on their columnar fabrics. They represent the human body
in one position. The arms close to the trunk, the legs close
ach other, the back applied to the block, of which the
statue is a part. This position of the body forms evidently
the most easy design which a novice in the art, when first
attempting to shape in stone some representation of the
human figure, could conceive. That the Egyptian artists
should have commenced with such figures, seems natural
enough, but that, after having learned to execute the pro-
>us and highly finished works in statuary, which they have
left, they should still have adhered to this position, can only,
I apprehend, be explained from the influence of the spirit of
imitation. The achievements of the ancient Egyptians, in the
whole art of shaping stone into forms giving the ideas of
sublimity and beauty, may well be supposed to have filled the
minds of their descendants with awe and admiration, since
their iv mains so powerfully affect even men of the present day
with these sentiments. It is scarcely in human nature greatly
I in ire any productions of genius, and to form others much
surpassing them. Under the influence of such a sentiment,
men are rather inclined to confine their efforts to making
additions, than to exert them in attempting alterations, prud-
ence whispering, that the former will be received as sufficient
proof of their capacity, while the latter might be censured as
proceeding from their arrogance. When a certain point has
once been gained, future artists seek the principles of their
operations, not in the powers of nature and of man, but in
what they term the rules of art. These rules seem to have
effectually confined the art of statuary, as far as the human
figure was concerned, to the limits marked out by the first
168 INVENTION ECONOMIC
essays. Even figures in porcelain had the same character, an
appendix being put to the back, indicative of the original
stone block. The restraining influence of the spirit of imita-
tion is rendered more remarkable, from the figures of the
inferior animals being executed with considerable spirit.
When the art was transferred to Greece, the change of
country undid its trammels, and its productions assumed all
the life, grace, and beauty, which varying and natural attitudes
bestow.
The mechanical part of architecture underwent a revolution
among the nations that were finally consolidated into the
Eoman Empire, by the adoption of the arch, and the employ-
ment of cement. The Egyptians and Grecians were stone-
cutters ; the Komans, masons. The spirit of imitation
prevented this change in the material part, from producing,
immediately, a corresponding change in the ideal. Under the
Komans, the arch and the column were combined. It was
not until after the ruin of the Empire, when architecture
recommenced among other races, that it assumed a new form,
correspondent to the change in the mechanical part, and suited
to the purposes and times.
When arts, other than those of their native wilds, first
began to be any thing to our rude ancestors, the art of the
mason, received by them from the Eomans, was properly the
capacity of shaping a stony mass into a form, realizing some
of their imaginations, from materials, which could be easily
transported to the point required. While the Egyptians and
Grecians had had to apply their powers to changing the figures
and positions of masses of rocks, they possessed the art of
constructing a rocky mass. The instrument of the former
was the chisel, to carve into shape, of the latter, lime, to work
out to shape. The beginnings of the former art in Africa >
and of the latter in Europe, are marked by the same lavish
expenditure of human labor, though in different modes. In
the former, the human hand, slowly, by dint of strokes inter-
mitted not for generations, dug out caves, or carved pillars.
In the latter, also, the human hand cemented small fragments
of rock to small fragments, till in the lapse of years, the mass
gradually swelled out into some desired form. The extent of
INVENTION ECONOMIC 169
the operations of the one was limited, by the powers of in-
dustry, to put large blocks and columns of stone into the
requisite positions, and by the strength and durability of these
materials. The operations of the other again, were limited,
solely, by the cohesive qualities of the mass it formed. The
effect at which both aimed, grandeur, the union of power,
durability, and useful design, was mainly produced in the
former, by the vastness and symmetry of the several parts, in
the latter, by the same qualities combined in a whole.
The art was probably at first applied in modern Europe, to
the construction of places of strength. Solidity to resist the
battering engines, height to prevent the fortress being scaled,
and the advantage of having scope to annoy the besiegers,
produced the massive battlemented towers and castles of the
ancient barons. As its materials were the most durable,
principles to which we have already adverted, soon led to its
application to structures devoted to the purposes of religion.
A plain wall of small stones and lime may convey the idea
of durability, but only in a slight degree, that of power or
design. A circular or angular column of the same materials,
if very elevated, is better fitted for these ends, but still, is far
inferior to one composed of a solid block. A lofty stone arch,
again, is one of the most striking displays of power that human
art exhibits. The aspect of a mass so ponderous, hanging
thus securely in high air, fixes the attention, and fills the
mind with awe. It is, accordingly, by a skilful management
of the arch, that the grandeur of effect of what we term the
iic architecture, is chiefly produced. All the other parts
are subordinate to it, and confined within the smallest limits
sufficient to bring out its powers. In the more perfect
specimens, there is no dead wall ; a congeries of lofty arches,
supported on short, or slender pillars, is wrought into a
magnificent and beautiful whole. The feeling of admiration
here springs from the consideration of the power manifested,
in maintaining in its place the whole high and hanging fabric;
whereas, in the Grecian architecture, it rather arises from a
perception of that displayed in the formation and elevation of
each separate member.
The progress towards perfection, of this order of architecture,
170 INVENTION ECONOMIC
was much more slow, considering that it scarcely ever re-
mained wholly stationary, than was that of the Grecian, for it
is, in reality, far more difficult. Several causes contributed to
its advance. The great extent of country over which its
elements were diffused, occasioned the use of various sorts
of stone, and produced the advantageous effects arising from a
continual change of materials. The art of the mason im-
proved, strength was obtained by joining stones into one
another, rather than by cementing them together. The use of
freestone, a rock easily wrought into shape, probably had con-
siderable effect in producing this improvement. The architect
was thus enabled to bring out, in greater fineness, all the parts
of his fabric. The feelings of men, also, set towards the
pursuit. Kings, nobles, a proud and powerful priesthood,
stood ready to reward and applaud its successful creations, and
assembled multitudes gazed on them in silent and delighted
admiration. It has been truly said, that it formed much of
the poetry of the age. In the want of other species of intel-
lectual excitement, men were needs very strongly moved by
an art, that thus wrought on stone and lime, they knew not
how, to pourtray some of the deepest feelings of their hearts.
It seems to have been only slightly retarded, by a propensity
to servile imitation. The various kingdoms into which Europe
was split, and the difficulty of intercourse amongst them, gave
courage to the artists, who were themselves the greatest
travellers, to attempt works from which they would have
shrunk, had those who were to judge of them had easy access
to established models. Nevertheless, there is a fact, which
shows that the oppressive influence of this principle was far
from inert. The epochs of the most rapid advances of the
Gothic architecture, were the periods succeeding the conquest
of kingdoms by new races. This circumstance has given
occasion to several, to conjecture that it stands indebted to
the knowledge of its principles which some of these conquerors
brought with them. The supposition is improbable ; we have
no reason to believe that they brought any thing else, than
what necessarily belonged to such men, a bold and untram-
meled spirit. This, indeed, is an essential element, and one,
as we have seen, of great power in the composition of genius.
INVENTION ECONOMIC 171
It was thus that the prominent defects of the art under the
An L:!O- Saxons, an exuberance of dead wall, and want of eleva-
tion, were remedied by the Normans. The Saracens in Spain,
wrought also a similar change.
At no preceding period, did there exist men, so much given
to the erection of permanent structures as modern Europeans,
and their American descendants. Their command of materials,
their resources of power, are by much superior to those
possessed by any antecedent people. It is certainly, then,
surprising, that they should be servile copyists of the arts of
those whom they fitly look on, compared with themselves, as
barbarians. I apprehend we can only explain the phenomenon,
from the influence of the instinct of imitation. The extended
intercourse between all parts of the world, the diffusion of the
products of book-making, and of picture-making, render us
familiar with existing models of all sorts. An artist, there-
fore, who has to construct any great edifice, finds it safest to
copy from some one whose merits have been acknowledged,
and takes the measure of a Grecian temple, or Gothic church.
Thus, at least, he covers himself from censure. Hence it is,
that we so often see, in the cold foggy climate of Britain, or in
the boisterous one of North America, an imitation of some
structure that had been admired in Greece. The claims to
admiration which the copy possesses, fall, however, far short of
the original. In the first place, it wants that evidence of
perfect design, which arises from the complete and easy
accomplishment of a purpose. What answered the mild
climate, and serene skies of Greece, is felt to be inconvenient,
and therefore defective, elsewhere. Next, it is most probably
ry deficient copy. The effect of the Grecian structures,
depends, as we have seen, in their consisting of large masses of
stone. Our imitations are probably the work of the mason, or
possibly the plasterer, and convey, therefore, no idea of power,
very essence which it is desired to embody. There is
hence, also, generally, a failure in the execution. When the
1 is full of any great idea, it knows when it has got an
adequate expression for it, and rests not satisfied until it has
fitly and accurately embodied it. But, if this great presi<
idea be wanting, there is nothing within, distinguishing the
172 INVENTION ECONOMIC
right from the wrong, or preventing the commission of the
greatest errors. Our mason-work and plastered fabrics, are
consequently, often masses of incongruities.
Our choice of Gothic models, for similar reasons, generally
fails as completely. A large cathedral, indeed, must be ad-
mired anywhere, but this is too great a work to be attempted.
A copy is probably taken, from some chapel. We forget, that
what was admirable for its purpose in some small ancient
rustic hamlet, is out of place in our cities ; that the arches,
which, to simple peasants living in huts, seemed magnificent,
to the chieftain, issuing for a time from his naked fortalice,
elegant, must appear mean and insignificant, to those whose
halls are nearly as lofty; and, that the whole pinnacled and
buttressed structure, crowded on and perhaps overtopped by
square unseemly buildings, devoted to meaner uses, shows
among them, trifling, and fantastic, like a toy erected to please
children.
The examples we have hitherto considered, are of the same
arts changing materials. Those which we have now to attend
to, are of different arts adopting the same, or similar materials.
When arts are brought together, they borrow from each other.
Men perceive that some materials, or instruments, or processes,
employed in the one, could they be transferred to the other,
would be the cause of its yielding larger returns. They are
encouraged, therefore, to attempt the change, and experience
shows that such attempts perseveringly pursued, are generally
successful.
Efforts of the inventive faculty, succeeding in effecting such
transfers, are more important than those in which it accom-
plishes simply a change of materials, for they tend more than
they to weaken the powers of the propensity to imitation, and
establish general principles, applicable to all arts. Hence we
observe, that, in countries where many arts flourish, there are
most general principles, least servile imitations, and very often,
a continual onward progress. Barren apart, they show genera-
tive virtues when brought together. I take it, that it is
chiefly from this circumstance, that the seats of commerce
have been so generally the points from whence improvements
in the arts have emanated. Thus, also, countries where various
i
INVENTION ECONOMIC 173
different races, or nations, have mingled together, are to be
noted as coming eminently forward in tne career of industry.
Great Britain is a remarkable instance of this ; so are the
(United States of America. When individuals meet from
different countries, they reciprocally communicate and receive
the arts of each, adopt such as are suited to their new circum-
stances, and probably improve several. Servile imitation can
(there have no place, for there is no common standard to
imitate. Countries again, where only one art is practised, and
where the population is composed of one unmingled race, are
generally servilely imitative. Such are some purely agricul-
tural countries. Experience shows, that, from the influence of
this propensity, improvements, in these, always introduce
themselves very slowly. Leaving, however, these general
reflections, we should now turn to particular instances of
passages in this way, of processes and inventions from art
to art, and consequent improvement of old, and generation of
new arts. But, as these will be chiefly recent, and European,
there are one or two circumstances, affecting generally their
progress in this part of the globe, to which it may be as well
previously to advert.
The rough and variable climate of Europe, compared with
the regions that have given origin to most of the arts now pre-
vailing in it, renders the necessary cost of subsistence much
greater. To live at all, in most parts of Europe, men must
consume a greater quantity and better quality of food, or they
must be more warmly clothed and comfortably lodged, than in
regions nearer the equator. The influence of this circum-
stance has probably been somewhat increased by another.
Along the Mediterranean, civilization seems to have gained
great part of its advance by colonization, and it is to be ob-
served that this movement of men from one region to another,
proceeds from different motives than others impelling them to
a change of seat. Men are often compelled by necessity to
migrate in tribes and nations, but emigration in small parties,
proceeds from choice.
They cannot well be induced to leave, not only their homes,
but their kindred and nation, unless from the hope of bettering
01 .million, and, if their project miscarries not, they do in
174 INVENTION ECONOMIC
fact better their condition, and are indemnified for the pains of
emigration, by a greater command of the necessaries and com-
forts of life. Thus habits of larger consumption are introduced,
than absolute necessity might demand. Both circumstances
would have the effect of augmenting the expense, or the wages
of labor, and of creating an additional difficulty, to the passage
of the arts of warmer climates into these more northern
regions. It is very evident, for example, that an European
workman could never have sat down to a Hindoo loom, for the
purpose of fabricating a garment to himself; it would have
been much better for him to keep to his sheepskin jacket.
Before the transfer of any art could be effected, invention had
to supply it with additional facilities. Stimulated by its
wants, by the new scenes in which it found itself, and by the
new materials submitted to it, it accordingly seems always to
have succeeded in doing so. There is, perhaps, scarcely an
implement in general use in Africa, or in Asia, excepting from
it China, that has not passed with improvement into Europe.
In modern Europe, too, the strength of the effective desire of
accumulation, seems to have been always greater than in any
other part of the old world. This circumstance has much
facilitated the passage into it, of the several arts, and balancing
the higher rates of wages, and more stubborn materials, has
rendered the formation of very many instruments there practi-
cable, which the weaker accumulative principle of the Asiatics,
or Africans, would have left unattempted.
It is worth while to remark, that there is a considerable
analogy in this particular, between the different conditions of
society in that continent and Asia then, and what exists
between them now, in Europe and North America. The
general wages of labor seem always to have been higher in
Europe, than in Asia, in the same way as the wages of labor in
North America, are now higher than in Europe. The same
process, too, that carried the arts to Europe, seems now aiding
their passage across the Atlantic. As flame often sets against
the wind, for that it is fed by it, so invention seems to hold its
course against opposing obstacles, for these obstacles excite its
powers and minister materials to their action.
The progress of the knowledge of the natures and qualities
INVENTION ECONOMIC 175
of particular substances, gradually introduced a knowledge of
the properties and natures of substances in general. Men first
see in the concrete, afterwards in the abstract. Thus, the dis-
covery of the several mechanical powers, and the knowledge
acquired of the nature of each, led in time to the general prin-
ciples of mechanics. A knowledge of the mathematical pro-
perties of substances, as in land-measuring, and in the regular
figures of architecture, led to a perception of the general
properties of figure, or of space as an affection of matter, and,
at last, to the doctrine of pure space and motion.
In the ancient world, science, as founded on a generalization
of the experiences of art, was little prosecuted. It is only
in modern times, that the science of experience has come to
form an element of importance, in the general advance of
invention.
It is clearly on the antecedent progress of art, that the foun-
dation of the hopes of Bacon, for the future progress of science,
rested. His philosophy may be fitly described, as a plan to
reduce to method the chance processes that had been going on
before, by which men, as we have seen, happening on one dis-
covery after another, grope their way, as he expresses it, slowly,
and in the dark, to fresh knowledge and power. The progress
<>{' the philosophy to which he has given his name, as well as
that of the science of mathematics, have unquestionably dis-
covered to us many general truths and theorems of art, and
t'<>rm therefore a new element influencing its progress. The
t moving powers will, however, still, I apprehend, be found
to proceed from the principles, the action of which we are
now to attempt farther to trace through particular instances.
Men must have been very early led to the use of some of
the farinaceous plants, and other vegetable matters, which,
before they are fit for food, require to be reduced to small
fragments. To effect this, they must either have rubbed them,
<>r )>eat them, between some two substances. If stone were
the material, they would rather prefer rubbing them. fnm tlu
iity of that substance to break, and from its weight. It is
rude tribes of southern Africa, to this day, lay
their corn on one flat stone, and grind it by the help of
176 INVENTION ECONOMIC
another. 1 An improvement on this instrument, is to have the
lower stone a little hollowed, and perhaps marked with trans-
verse notches. In one form or other, this is a very general
and ancient instrument, and, it may be observed, is probably
the first machine in which a circular motion was introduced.
If wood be the material, then, to produce any effect, the
substance to be comminuted must be laid on one piece, and
another be struck against it. But thus, a large portion of the
matter operated on would fly off, and be lost. The most
natural mode of preventing this, is to hollow out the lower
piece. The Indians of North America make an instrument of
this sort very easily, by taking a portion of the trunk of a tree
of hard wood, setting it upright, and burning and scraping out
a hole in the upper end. They have then a large mortar, to
which adjusting a wooden pestle, they produce the implement
with which they pound all their corn. Such an instrument
seems, like its fellow of stone, to have been in very general use,
at one time or other, in most parts of the world. 2
Tribes having learnt the use of such an instrument, on sub-
stances most easily comminuted, would be urged on to essay
its powers on more cohesive matters. They might succeed in
the attempt, at first, by simply increasing the size of the im-
plement, and searching out the hardest and heaviest woods to
construct it of; but, even these improvements would at length
be insufficient for the enterprises to which their confidence in
1 [So also peoples by no means altogether "rude," in Central and South
America.]
2 In a Scotch ballad, I believe in Allan Ramsay's collection, containing a
catalogue of a peasant's furniture, perhaps two centuries since, "A timmer
mell the bear to knock," is among the utensils enumerated. We yet speak of
striking barley.
[The early frontiersmen of America, in the days of their extreme poverty
before they set up water mills, adopted the Indian mortar and pestle described
above, with the addition that the labor of raising the heavy pestle was greatly
lightened by the attachment of a spring-pole. These were called " samping
mills," and the loud noise made by their operation could be heard a long way
through the forest, and announced to the traveller his approach to a clearing.
The introduction of water mills into many parts of the tropics is permanently
opposed by great obstacles, owing to the extreme seasonal variations in rain-
fall. The device just described would seem to be the first and most natural
advance upon the tortilla stone in these regions.]
INVENTION ECONOMIC 177
their powers, or their necessities, might excite them. To over-
come these increasing difficulties, it would require no great
stretch of the inventive faculty, to hit on the expedient of
placing a firm transverse bar, with a hole in it, for the passage
of the handle of the pestle, across the top of the mortar, from
side to side. Such a change in its construction, seems accord-
ingly, to have been very generally effected. Simple as it is,
it contained the germ of very many subsequent improvements.
The force employed, acting thus not directly, but through the
intervention of a fulcrum, may be so applied as to give either
increased velocity, or increased power, and the regulated move-
ment introduced renders mere power almost all that is neces-
sary. The size of the mortar, and weight of the pestle, might,
therefore, be increased indefinitely, and the instrument might
be put in motion by men, or by cattle. The expression of the
table oils, was found to be the most difficult operation to
be performed by instruments of this sort, and it is probable,
that it was to effect it, that machinery, by which increased
force might be employed, was first made use of. Oil mills, of
this sort, are yet common in the east.
This construction rendered the union of the wooden mortar
and pestle, with the parallel instrument of stone, almost
inevitable. Hardness and heaviness, being the requisites in
thr pestle, and an equal resistance being necessary in the
mortar, to bring about the junction, it would seem to have
been only requisite, that the two machines should have met
re there was a scarcity of wood of proper quality. The
handle of the pestle, through which a cross bar was then
thrust, became the axle of the upper mill stone, and the lower
mill stone formed the bottom of the mortar. The movement
then became altogether circular, and required small absolute
force, but as much swiftness as could be given to it. The
machine thus generated, by the passage of the one instrument
into the other, was then a regular mill, to work which was the
Inyment of cattle or slaves. As it united the advantages
of the two original instruments, the capacity of the wood to
ive and modify motion, and of the stone to bruise and
Minute hard vegetable matters, its invention seems to have
considerable effect in advancing art still farther. The
M
178 INVENTION ECONOMIC
moving power, in one of the most laborious and common opera-
tions, was thus reduced to a simplicity of action, that paved
the way for its being performed by an inanimate agent ; such
an agent was introduced into the process, through the inter-
vention of another art.
In hot regions, water is very abundantly consumed, both as
a necessity and luxury, for immediate use, and as the great
fertiliser of the soil. In such regions, the raising it from wells
and rivers has always been a very common and laborious pro-
cess, and to facilitate it has given occasion to some of the
earliest efforts of ingenuity. One of these consisted of a lar^e
wheel, placed upright, and to the circumference of which small
buckets were affixed. It was put in motion by treading on it,
and the buckets and it were so arranged, that they should
just dip beneath the stream, in the lower part of their circum-
volution, and, at the height of it, should empty themselves
into a reservoir placed above. A considerable saving of labor
was thus produced. Another improvement did entirely away
with the necessity of employing it, in many situations. To
the outside of the wheel, where there was a sufficient current,
were affixed broad plates of wood, or other material, on which
the strength of the stream acting, forced it round, and per-
formed the office of the laborer. Such engines are of common
use at present in China. They were known in Italy, in the
time of Julius Caesar, to which they probably found their way
from Asia. They presented to the Romans a means of em-
ploying the power of water in the laborious operation of grind-
ing, 1 which they had sufficient discernment to adopt. The
motion of the water-wheel, was communicated to the mill, by
the intervention of a toothed wheel.
1 Fiunt etiam in fluminibus rotse eisdem rationibus, quibus supra scriptum
est. Circa earum froutes affiguntur pinnae, quse cum percutiuntur ab impetu
fluminis, cogunt progredientes versari rotam ; et ita modiolis aquam haurientes
et in summum referentes, sine operarum calcatura, ipsius fluminis impulsa
versatae, praestant quod opus est, ad usum. Eadem ratione etiam versantur
hydraulae, in quibus eadem sunt omnia, przeterquam quod in uno capite axis
habet tympanum dentatum et inclusum ; id autem ad perpendiculum colloca-
tum in cultrum, versatur cum rota pariter. Secundum id tympanum, majus
item dentatum planum est collocatum, quo continetur axis, habens in summo
capite subscudem ferreum qua mola continetur. Ita dentes ejus tympani,
INVENTION ECONOMIC 179
Thus, from the union of the productions of the inventive
faculty exercised on at least three arts, came the rude model
of the present water-mill. Its progress was at first slow.
Such mills seem only to have been constructed, when there
was a current of water suited to the purpose. The expense of
forming artificial falls, seems to have been too great for the
improvidence of the age. Though abundant materials existed,
accumulative principle of the people was too weak to work
1 1 >uii them. Cattle-mills, and mills driven by slaves, con-
lued therefore to be generally preferred. 1 It was owing to
invention, like so many others, the result of necessity and
genius united, that the use of water-mills became more general.
When Rome was besieged by the Goths, in the time of
Belisarius, they cut off the supply of water by the aqueducts.
Among the other inconveniences arising from the measure, it
stopped the mills driven by the water from these aqueducts.
To remedy the evil, that general devised the scheme of
anchoring barges in the river, in which he placed mills driven
by the current. The plan met the immediate exigence, and,
as such a construction suited the low strength of the accumu-
lative principle of the age, it was generally adopted elsewhere.
In the present times, such a plan would be rejected, because,
though the first expense is comparatively small, the durability
of the instrument is too short. We prefer the greater expense
of making dams and sluices, on account of their greater dura-
bility. The cause leading to the construction of the one or
the other, is the same as that determining the Chinese to the
formation of floating gardens, where the Dutch would build
-'S.
The invention maintained itself through the dark ages, and
followed the improvement and extension of agriculture, and
quod eat in axi inclusum, impellendo denies tympani plani, cogunt fieri m6-
larum circinationem, in qua machina impendens infun<lil>ulum submimstrat
tnolis frumentum, et eadem versatione subijitur farina. Vitruvius, Lib. N
M quoted by Beckman, Vol. I.
'jute copia eat, fuaurua balnearum debent pistrina auscipere ; ut ubi
formatis aquariis tnolis, sine animaliiun vcl liominmn labore, frumenta frnn-
Pallad de re wt., lib. I. 42, edit. Gean. II., p. 892. Ibid.
1 Ihtrt hundred years after Augustus, the number of cattle-mills in Rome
amounted to three hundred. BKEMAN.
180 INVENTION ECONOMIC
facility of communication, which returning civilization and
tranquillity gradually diffused. It seems to have spread very
generally over Europe, about the beginning of the sixteenth
century. The force of water being, by it, turned to the ser-
vice of man, wind also was made to employ its powers to a
similar purpose.
Important as these engines were in themselves, from their
immediate utility, they were more so in their effects. Men's
minds were directed to the advantage of what is termed
machinery, instruments, that is, giving new velocity and direc-
tion to motion, and to the power of inanimate agents generative
of motion, of both of which the mill afforded the first eminent
instance. Examples of the possibility of executing by other
powers than the human hand, or the strength of the inferior
animals, one of the most difficult of the operations that the
necessities of mankind called for, being brought freshly before
the eyes of almost all Europe, naturally prompted the genius
of reflective men to conceive the idea of applying them
to other, and even more difficult processes. This general
stimulus to the inventive faculty, conjoined with others, acting
vigorously, but occasionally and partially, and already referred
to, carried the improvement through a great variety of opera-
tions. Mills of all sorts, came to be constructed, driven
commonly by water, as the more forcible, and manageable
power. To trace the course of invention through these, were
not to mark the principles regulating the progress of that
faculty, but to enter on a description of European art. It may
be sufficient to observe, that, in conformity to these principles,
not only was each difficulty overcome by it, a benefit to the
particular art it was meant to serve, but to art in general, each
conquest extending its authority, not alone over the province
where it was achieved, but over the whole region which it was
its object to gain. If, for instance, comparing the ingenious
and complete machinery of a well-constructed flour-mill of the
present day, with a model of the rude and imperfect engines of
the sort that existed two hundred years ago, we ask the cause
of the difference, we shall probably be told, the improvement
of mechanics ; but, if we trace the progress of this improve-
ment carefully, we will find that it was the fitting of the
INVENTION ECONOMIC 181
machinery of this very engine to other arts, that was one of the
main producers of it. The productions of the union of arts
also propagating others, like all generators, their increase goes
on. when there are no retarding checks, to borrow a phrase
of common use in inquiries connected with these, not in a
simple arithmetical, but in a geometrical progression.
The effects produced, by the passage through different
arts, of this improvement on a very ancient engine, important
as they were, have been far exceeded in extent of consequences,
by one of altogether modern invention. I allude to the steam
engine, the progress of which, we will find to have regulated
itsi-lf almost altogether according to the above principles.
As the progress of order, civilization, and art, covered the
island of Great Britain with a numerous population, the stores
of fuel which its cold and moist climate required, and its
forests had at first afforded, were by degrees exhausted. Its
situation prevented its receiving the supplies, which, had it
made a part of the continent, might have been brought down
rivers issuing from interior regions. Necessity thus taught its
[habitants the general use of coal, in which, happily, its
territory abounds. But what of this material lay close to the
surface, and the fields immediately beneath, having been
wrought out, the miner was urged on by the increasing wants
of his countrymen, and the abundant materials before him, to
penetrate still deeper ; and the labors of generations formed
large excavations, in regions far beneath the surface. Here,
however, he was met by an enemy continually gathering
strength as he advanced on him, and threatening completely
to bar his future progress. The farther he penetrated, water
poured in upon him in greater quantity, while to free himself
of it he had to elevate it to a greater height. A period seemed
approaching, when very many of the mines must be abandoned.
In this extremity, it was natural to the men engaged in this
occupation, to cast about, and endeavor to discover some
j, through help of which they might successfully continue
its pursuit. The resources of all powers hitherto known having
been tried, as far as in such situations they could be effectually
employed, and seeming to be on the point of yielding, it could
not but occur to attentive thinkers, that, if they were to
182 INVENTION ECONOMIC
succeed, the probability was it would be through some one
hitherto unemployed. Of those, steam was perhaps the most
apparent, and manageable. Its force must have been, at least
in some measure, known to many, and had been previously
pointed out by one distinguished individual, as capable of pro-
ducing the greatest effects. The operation to be performed by
it, too, seemed peculiarly fitted for its action. Water is moved
in pipes, and, it is only in confinement that the power arising
from the rarefication and condensation of steam becomes sen-
sible. It appeared then by no means impracticable, to manage
the condensation and rarification within metal pipes, so con-
nected with those in which the water had to be raised, as to
supply the force necessary to produce its elevation. On this
principle the attempt was made, and succeeded in first practi-
cally establishing the power of an agent, destined, we cannot
doubt, to produce effects far greater than any which has
hitherto been placed within the hands of man.
The various circumstances conjoining to bring about this
important event, are deserving our attention. 1st. The urgent
demand for some powerful agent, however rude and unwieldly
in action. Had the operation to be performed been in any
degree complicated and nice in its nature, it would never pro-
bably have occurred to any one, that the expanse and collapse
of a vapor, shut up in iron vessels, could be brought to execute
it. 2d. The materials, metal, coal, and water, being in these
situations abundant. 3d. The previous improvement of
machinery in general. 4th. The want occurring to men of
property, and of a class in general bold in enterprise, and
accustomed to stake their funds freely. 1 Had any of these
been wanting, this extraordinary invention might yet have
slumbered, veiled in the darkness which had covered it for so
many thousands of years. Perhaps it might have been stifled
1 [To this catalogue should be added a fifth " circumstance," touched upon in
part by Rae two pages back, and that is, the existence of a government strong
enough to secure at least ordinary law and order, but not so strong as to crush
out the spirit of individual initiative. Had the experience of Dud Dudley in iron
smelting, for example, been universal and continuous in respect to all British
industrial innovators in each generation, the whole course of modern economic
history in Great Britain would have been vastly different.]
INVENTION ECONOMIC 183
at its birth, for its first appearance gave but slight token of its
inherent capabilities. The expenditure of fuel and of labor,
necessary to the discharge of its functions, was excessive. It
having, however, been thus established, that it was an agent
within the compass of man's ability, to make a partner in the
series of his operations, there was a strong stimulus to endea-
vour to render it a more economical agent. This was effected
by a change in the construction of the apparatus, the leading
feature of which is, the causing the steam to perform its
operations, through the intervention of a piston. The instru-
ment thus produced, was an effective 
