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