' ever
existed. 'Man,' said he, 'is called the masterpiece of nature; and man
is also, as we all know, the most curious of machines; now, a machine
is a work of art, consequently, the masterpiece of nature is the
masterpiece of art. The object of all mechanism is the attainment of
utility; the object of man, who is the most perfect machine, is utility
in the highest degree. Can we believe, therefore, that this machine
was ever intended for a state which never could have called forth its
powers, a state in which no utility could ever have been attained,
a state in which there are no wants; consequently, no demand;
consequently, no supply; consequently, no competition; consequently, no
invention; consequently, no profits; only one great pernicious monopoly
of comfort and ease? Society without wants is like a world without
winds. It is quite clear, therefore, that there is no such thing as
Nature; Nature is Art, or Art is Nature; that which is most useful
is most natural, because utility is the test of nature; therefore a
steam-engine is in fact a much more natural production than a mountain.*

* The age seems as anti-mountainous as it is anti-monarchical.
A late writer insinuates that if the English had spent their
millions in levelling the Andes, instead of excavating the
table-lands, society might have been benefited. These
monstrosities are decidedly useless, and therefore can neither
be sublime nor beautiful, as has been unanswerably demonstrated
by another recent writer on political aesthetics--See also a
personal attack on Mont Blanc, in the second number of the
Foreign Quarterly Review, 1828.

'You are convinced, therefore,' he continued, 'by these observations,
that it is impossible for an individual or a nation to be too artificial
in their manners, their ideas, their laws, or their general policy;
because, in fact, the more artificial you become the nearer you approach
that state of nature of which you are so perpetually talking.' Here
observing that some of his audience appeared to be a little sceptical,
perhaps only surprised, he told them that what he said must be true,
because it entirely consisted of first principles. *

* First principles are the ingredients of positive truth. They
are immutable, as may be seen by comparing the first principles
of the eighteenth century with the first principles of the
nineteenth.