The rapid increase of population during the first half of this century began at a moment when the British stock was specially exhausted; namely, about the end of the long French war.  There may have been periods of exhaustion, at least in England, before that.  There may have been one here, as there seems to have been on the Continent, after the Crusades; and another after the Wars of the Roses.  There was certainly a period of severe exhaustion at the end of Elizabeth’s reign, due both to the long Spanish and Irish wars and to the terrible endemics introduced from abroad; an exhaustion which may have caused, in part, the national weakness which hung upon us during the reign of the Stuarts.  But after none of these did the survival of the less fit suddenly become more easy; or the discovery of steam power, and the acquisition of a colonial empire, create at once a fresh demand for human beings and a fresh supply of food for them.  Britain, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, was in an altogether new social situation.

At the beginning of the great French war; and, indeed, ever since the beginning of the war with Spain in 1739—­often snubbed as the “war about Jenkins’s ear”—­but which was, as I hold, one of the most just, as it was one of the most popular, of all our wars; after, too, the once famous “forty fine harvests” of the eighteenth century, the British people, from the gentleman who led to the soldier or sailor who followed, were one of the mightiest and most capable races which the world has ever seen, comparable best to the old Roman, at his mightiest and most capable period.  That, at least, their works testify.  They created—­as far as man can be said to create anything—­the British Empire.  They won for us our colonies, our commerce, the mastery of the seas of all the world.  But at what a cost—­

   “Their bones are scattered far and wide,
   By mount, and stream, and sea.”

Year after year, till the final triumph of Waterloo, not battle only, but worse destroyers than shot and shell—­fatigue and disease—­had been carrying off our stoutest, ablest, healthiest young men, each of whom represented, alas! a maiden left unmarried at home, or married, in default, to a less able man.  The strongest went to the war; each who fell left a weaklier man to continue the race; while of those who did not fall, too many returned with tainted and weakened constitutions, to injure, it may be, generations yet unborn.  The middle classes, being mostly engaged in peaceful pursuits, suffered less of this decimation of their finest young men; and to that fact I attribute much of their increasing preponderance, social, political, and intellectual, to this very day.  One cannot walk the streets of any of our great commercial cities without seeing plenty of men, young and middle-aged, whose whole bearing and stature shows that the manly vigour of our middle class is anything but exhausted.  In Liverpool, especially, I have been much struck