COMMODITY
Whoever considers the final cause
of the world, will discern a multitude of uses that
result. They all admit of being thrown into one
of the following classes; Commodity; Beauty; Language;
and Discipline.
Under the general name of Commodity,
I rank all those advantages which our senses owe to
nature. This, of course, is a benefit which is
temporary and mediate, not ultimate, like its service
to the soul. Yet although low, it is perfect
in its kind, and is the only use of nature which all
men apprehend. The misery of man appears like
childish petulance, when we explore the steady and
prodigal provision that has been made for his support
and delight on this green ball which floats him through
the heavens. What angels invented these splendid
ornaments, these rich conveniences, this ocean of air
above, this ocean of water beneath, this firmament
of earth between? this zodiac of lights, this tent
of dropping clouds, this striped coat of climates,
this fourfold year? Beasts, fire, water, stones,
and corn serve him. The field is at once his
floor, his work-yard, his play-ground, his garden,
and his bed.
“More servants
wait on man
Than he’ll take
notice of.”
Nature, in its ministry to man, is
not only the material, but is also the process and
the result. All the parts incessantly work into
each other’s hands for the profit of man.
The wind sows the seed; the sun evaporates the sea;
the wind blows the vapor to the field; the ice, on
the other side of the planet, condenses rain on this;
the rain feeds the plant; the plant feeds the animal;
and thus the endless circulations of the divine charity
nourish man.
The useful arts are reproductions
or new combinations by the wit of man, of the same
natural benefactors. He no longer waits for favoring
gales, but by means of steam, he realizes the fable
of Aeolus’s bag, and carries the two and thirty
winds in the boiler of his boat. To diminish
friction, he paves the road with iron bars, and, mounting
a coach with a ship-load of men, animals, and merchandise
behind him, he darts through the country, from town
to town, like an eagle or a swallow through the air.
By the aggregate of these aids, how is the face of
the world changed, from the era of Noah to that of
Napoleon! The private poor man hath cities, ships,
canals, bridges, built for him. He goes to the
post-office, and the human race run on his errands;
to the book-shop, and the human race read and write
of all that happens, for him; to the court-house,
and nations repair his wrongs. He sets his house
upon the road, and the human race go forth every morning,
and shovel out the snow, and cut a path for him.
But there is no need of specifying
particulars in this class of uses. The catalogue
is endless, and the examples so obvious, that I shall
leave them to the reader’s reflection, with the
general remark, that this mercenary benefit is one
which has respect to a farther good. A man is
fed, not that he may be fed, but that he may work.