ighest importance to
discover how that share is actually determined; and it does not even
follow that a doctrine which is in some sense a truism may not be a
highly important doctrine. One of the ablest of the old Economists,
Nassan Senior, after laying down his version of the theory, observes
that it is "so nearly self-evident" that if Political Economy were a
new science, it might be taken for granted. But he proceeds to
enumerate seven different opinions, some of them held by many people,
and others by writers of authority, with which it is inconsistent. And,
without following his arguments, this statement suggests what I take to
be a really relevant defence of his reasons. At the time when the
theory was first formulated, there were many current doctrines which
were self-contradictory, and which could, therefore, best be met by the
assertion of a truism. When the peace of 1815 brought distress instead
of plenty, some people, such as Southey, thought it a sufficient
explanation to say that the manufacturer had lost his best customer,
because the Government wanted fewer guns and less powder. They chose to
overlook the obvious fact that a customer who pays for his goods by
taking money out of the pockets of the seller, is not an unmixed
blessing. Then, there was the theory of general "gluts," and of what is
still denounced as over-production. The best cure for commercial
distress would be, as one disputant asserted, to burn all the goods in
our warehouses. It was necessary to point out that this theory (when
stated in superficial terms) regarded superabundance of wealth as the
cause of universal poverty. Another common theory was the evil effect
of manufacturers in displacing work. The excellent Robert Owen stated
it as an appalling fact, that the cotton manufacture supplanted the
labour of a hundred (perhaps it was two hundred) millions of men. He
seems to assume that, if the machinery had not been there, there would
still have been wages for the hundred millions. The curious confusion,
indeed, which leads us to speak of men wanting work, when what we
really mean is that they want wages, shows the tenacity of an old
fallacy. Mandeville argued long ago that the fire of London was a
blessing, because it set at work so many carpenters, plumbers, and
glaziers. The Protestant Reformation had done less good than the
invention of hooped petticoats, which had provided employment for so
many milliners. I shall not insult you by