and foolish convictions;--or rather (as I am
sometimes forced to conclude from the irritation with which they are
advanced) are resolutely dishonest, wilful, and malicious sophisms,
arranged so as to mask, to the last moment, the real laws of economy,
and future duties of men. By taking a simple example, and working it
thoroughly out, the subject may be rescued from all but such determined
misrepresentation.

141. Let us imagine a society of peasants, living on a rivershore,
exposed to destructive inundation at somewhat extended intervals; and
that each peasant possesses of this good, but imperilled, ground, more
than he needs to cultivate for immediate subsistence. We will assume
farther (and with too great probability of justice), that the greater
part of them indolently keep in tillage just as much land as supplies
them with daily food;--that they leave their children idle, and take no
precautions against the rise of the stream. But one of them, (we will
say but one, for the sake of greater clearness) cultivates carefully
_all_ the ground of his estate; makes his children work hard and
healthily; uses his spare time and theirs in building a rampart against
the river; and, at the end of some years, has in his storehouses large
reserves of food and clothing,--in his stables a well-tended breed of
cattle, and around his fields a wedge of wall against flood.

The torrent rises at last--sweeps away the harvests, and half the
cottages of the careless peasants, and leaves them destitute. They
naturally come for help to the provident one, whose fields are unwasted,
and whose granaries are full. He has the right to refuse it to them: no
one disputes this right.[83] But he will probably _not_ refuse it; it is
not his interest to do so, even were he entirely selfish and cruel. The
only question with him will be on what terms his aid is to be granted.

142. Clearly, not on terms of mere charity. To maintain his neighbours
in idleness would be not only his ruin, but theirs. He will require work
from them, in exchange for their maintenance; and, whether in kindness
or cruelty, all the work they can give. Not now the three or four hours
they were wont to spend on their own land, but the eight or ten hours
they ought to have spent.[84] But how will he apply this labour? The men
are now his slaves;--nothing less, and nothing more. On pain of
starvation, he can force them to work in the manner, and to the end, he
chooses. And it is