Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
           Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:
            Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade—
            A breath can make them, as a breath has made:
            But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride, 
            When once destroyed, can never be supplied.
                        The Deserted Village: Oliver Goldsmith

  This column follows on from ‘Whence Europe; Whither Europe’.