Chapter XXIII: Introduction (12)

I would therefore fix the military pay at a rate below the profits of useful industry, and accept of such as should offer. For the augmentation of this class, I would receive all male children who should be given or exposed by their parents. These should be bred to every sort of labour for which the state has occasion, and their numbers might be carried to twenty _per cent._ above that which might be judged necessary in time of the hottest war. Out of this class only, the standing forces might be recruited: those who remained might be employed in every public service; such as working in arsenals, docks, highways, public buildings, &c. By taking care of the children of this whole class, their numbers would rise to whatever height might be judged necessary. The same spirit would be kept up; they might serve by turns, and all become disciplined. This is a good scheme, in many cases, and is an improvement upon the distribution of the inhabitants: the execution is gradual; therefore no sudden revolution is implied. But it is fit only for a state which can augment its numbers, without seeking for subsistence from without. It would spare the land and manufactures, and be a ready outlet for all supernumeraries in every class.

This subject shall be resumed in the fifth book, when we come to the application of the amount of taxes. At present it has found a place, only because the support of a national force has been ranked among the objects of attention of those statesmen who are at the head of rich and luxurious nations which have lost their foreign trade.

QUEST. 6. What are the principles upon which the relative force of nations is to be estimated?

Without some limitations, no question can be more difficult to resolve than this; it must therefore be examined only in so far as it comes under the influence of certain principles. It is as impossible to estimate the real force of a nation, as it is to estimate that of any considerable quantity of gun-powder, and for the same reason. The nation cannot exert all its force at once, no more than the powder can be all inflamed at once, and the successive efforts of a small power, are never equally effectual with the momentous shock of a great one. In proportion, therefore, as the spirit of individuals is moved to concur with the public measure, a people become powerful; and as I know of no principle which can regulate such affections of the mind, we must throw them quite out of the question, and measure the power of nations by the quantity of men and money at a statesman’s command, in consequence of the oeconomy he has established. Let me then suppose two nations, where the number of inhabitants, and weight of gold and silver are absolutely the same, military genius and discipline quite equal. From what has been said, we must determine that nation to be the strongest, which, without disturbing the oeconomy of their state, can raise the greatest proportion of men, and draw the greatest proportion of money into the public coffers.

When the number of inhabitants is given, the first thing to be known is the nature of the produce of the country, whether mostly in corn, wine, or pasture: the more the ground is laboured, and the more crops it yearly produces, the fewer free hands it will maintain in proportion to the whole, this computation must then proceed upon the principles laid down above, Book I. Chap. 8.

When once you come at the number of free hands, you must examine the state of luxury. Luxury is justly said to effeminate a nation, because the great multitude of hands taken up in supplying the instruments of it to the rich, diminishes greatly the number of such as can be employed in war. If manufacturers and folks accustomed to a sedentary life, are at a certain age taken from trades, to compose armies, they will make bad soldiers; and the strength of a nation lies chiefly in the valour and strength of the soldiery. Luxury therefore effeminates a nation in general; but it does not follow from hence, that the most luxurious are the most effeminate, and most improper for war; on the contrary, they are found to be the bravest and most proper. The effeminacy and baseness of mind, in point of courage, are found in the sedentary multitude. The truth of this might be proved from many examples in antient history, if the present situation of Europe left the smallest room to doubt of it.

The more therefore that luxury prevails in a country, the fewer good troops can be raised in it, and _vice versa_. But it is not sufficient to have men for war, the men must be enabled to subsist, and in the modern way of making war, their subsistence and other expences require large sums of money. We must then examine what proportion of the general wealth may be applied to this purpose.

If in any country the riches be found in few hands, the state will be poor; because the opulence of the public treasure depends greatly upon a right and proportional distribution of wealth among the inhabitants. Riches are only acquired three ways. First, Gratuitously, as by succession, gift, or the like; secondly, by industry; and lastly, by penury. Those who are poor are seldom enriched gratuitously, never by penury, and always by industry; when a poor man grows rich in any state, he changes in so far the balance of wealth, for what is added to him is taken from another. When a spirit of industry prevails, the balance is always turning in favour of the industrious, and as it is a pretty general rule, that the rich are not the most laborious, so the balance is generally turning against them. This being the case, the more that industry prevails, the quicker will this revolution be brought on. By such revolutions, wealth becomes _equably distributed_; for by being _equably distributed_, I do not mean, that every individual comes to have an _equal_ share, but an equal chance, I may say a certainty, of becoming rich in proportion to his industry. Riches which are acquired by succession, or any other gratuitous means, do not in the least contribute to circulation, the owner, as has been said, only changes his name. Those made by penury or hoarding, instead of adding to, evidently diminish circulation. It is, therefore, by industry alone that wealth is made to circulate, and it is by its circulation only, that money is useful. When large sums are locked up, they produce nothing; they are therefore locked up not to be useful while they remain secreted; but that they may be useful when brought out in order to be alienated. In a state, therefore, where there are a few very rich and many very poor, there must be much money locked up; for without money none can be rich, and if it were not locked up it must fall into the hands of the poor. Why? Because the rich will not give it to the rich, gratuitously, nor will they labour to acquire it; either then the common people must be lazy and unwilling to work, or the rich must be so penurious and addicted to hoarding as to keep it out of the hands of the poor. In both which cases, if there be money in the country, it must be found in coffers.

From these positions it may be concluded, that wealth which produces nothing to its owner, cannot be supposed to produce any thing to the state: consequently, that state in which there is the quickest circulation of money, is, _cæteris paribus_, that in which the greatest proportion of the general wealth may be raised for the public service. This is all that is necessary to observe at present: when we have examined the nature of credit and taxes, and the principles upon which they may be levied in different countries, and under different forms of government, we shall discover more rules for estimating the force of different states.

The principles of industry have been so interwoven with those of trade, through all the chapters of this second book, that it is now proper, before we dismiss the subject, to examine a little into the nature of the first, considered more abstractedly, and more detached from its relation to the equivalent given for it, which is the proper characteristic of trade, and from which proceeds the intimate connection between them.

The object of our enquiry hitherto has been to discover the method of engaging a free people in the advancement of the one and the other, as a means of making their society live in ease, by reciprocally contributing to the relief of each others wants. Let us next examine some farther consequences. We are now to cast our eyes upon another view of this extensive landscape, where the personal advantages, immediately felt from this gentle band of mutual dependence, are not to fix our attention so much as the effects produced by industry upon the face of things, and manners of a people.

The better to transmit this idea, which I find a little dark, let me say, that hitherto we have treated our subject, according to the principles which should direct a statesman, to advance trade and industry, by engaging the rich to give bread to the poor. Now we are to examine the consequences resulting from the execution of this plan; and compare the difference between a country which has been inhabited by a people abundantly provided for without industry and labour, and one occupied by another who have subsisted by these means: and farther, we are to examine industry as producing effects more or less hurtful to the simplicity of manners, and more or less permanent and beneficial, according as it has been directed towards different objects.

I can easily suppose a nation living in the greatest simplicity, even going naked, but abundantly fed, either with the spontaneous fruits of the earth, or by an agriculture proportioned to the wants of every one, and where very little alienation or exchange takes place. From this primitive life, as I may call it, the degrees of industry, like imperceptible shades, may be augmented; and the augmentation, as I apprehend, is to be measured, not so much by the degree of occupation which the inhabitants pursue, as by the quantity of permutation among them; because I think permutation implies superfluity of something[N].

Footnote N:

Our first parents, placed in Paradise, were fed from the hand of God,
and freed by the constitution of their nature, from every uneasy
animal desire. Since the fall, the whole human species have been
employed in contriving and executing methods for relieving the wants
which are the consequences of such desires.

Hence I conclude, that had the fall never taken place, the pursuits of
man would have been totally different from what they are at present.
May I be allowed to suppose, that in such a happy state, he might have
been endowed with a faculty of transmitting his most complex ideas
with the same perspicuity with which we now transmit those relating to
geometry, numbers, colours, &c. From this I infer, there would have
been no difference of sentiment, no dispute, no competition between
man and man. The progress in acquiring useful knowledge, the pleasure
of communicating discoveries, would alone have provided a fund of
happiness, as inexhaustible as knowledge itself.

Mankind, therefore, set out upon a system of living without labour,
without industry, without wants, without dependence, without
subordination; consequently, had they remained in that state, the
lapse of time would have produced no change upon any thing, but the
state of knowledge. Banished from Paradise, man began to plow the
ground, consequently to change her surface: he built houses, made
bridges, traced roads, and by degrees has come, in different ages, to
please and gratify his inclinations, by numberless occupations and
pursuits, constantly dictated to him by his wants; that is, by his
imperfections, and by the desires which they inspire. When these are
satisfied, his physical happiness is carried as far as possible; but
as mankind seldom remain in a state of contentment, and that our
nature constantly prompts us to add something new to our former
enjoyments, so it naturally happens, that societies once established,
and living in peace, pass from one degree of refinement to another,
that is to say, man daily becomes more laborious.

A people then lives in the utmost simplicity, when the earth is so far in common, as that none can acquire the property of it, but in virtue of his possession as the means of subsistence; and when every one is employed in providing necessaries for himself, and for those who belong to him. The moment any one has occasion for the service of another, independent of him, he must have an equivalent to give. This equivalent must be something moveable, some fruit of the earth, pure or modified, superfluous, not necessary, not the earth itself, because this is the foundation of his subsistence; and he can never alienate what is essential to his being, in order to procure a superfluity. From this we may deduce a principle that the alienation of consumable commodities is a consequence of superfluity alone, as this again is the bane of simplicity. Consequently, he who would carry simplicity to the utmost length, ought to proscribe all alienation; consequently, all dependence among men; consequently, all subordination: every one ought to be entirely dependent upon his own labour, and nothing else.

Were man either restored to his primitive state of innocence, or reduced to a state of brutality; were his pursuits either purely spiritual, or did they extend no farther than to the gratification of his animal desires, and acquisition of his physical-necessary; such an oeconomy might be compatible with society. But as we stand in a middle state between the two, and have certain desires which participate of the one and of the other, the gratification of which constitute what we have called our _political-necessary_ (which we cannot procure to ourselves, because the very nature of it implies superiority and subordination, as well as a mutual dependence among men) a total obstruction to alienation becomes compatible with government, consequently with human society; and this being the case, all simplicity of manners is only relative. Our fathers looked upon the manners of their ancestors as simple, these again admired the simplicity of the patriarchs; and perhaps the time may come, when the manners of the eighteenth century may be called the noble simplicity of the antients.

As simplicity of manners is therefore relative, let us decide, that as long as superfluity does more good in providing for the poor, than hurt in corrupting the rich; so far it is to be approved of and no farther.

Here it is urged, that since superfluity is only good, so far as it provides subsistence for the poor, why may not the pursuits of industry be turned towards objects which cannot corrupt the mind? Why, in place of fine clothes, elegant entertainments, magnificent furniture, carving, gildings, and embroidery, with all the splendor to be seen in palaces, gardens, operas, balls, and masquerades, processions, shews, horse-races, and diversions of every kind, why might not, I say, the multitudes which are employed in supplying these transitory gratifications of human weakness (not to call them by a worse name) be employed in making highways, bridges, canals, fountains, fortifications, harbours, public buildings, and a thousand other works, both useful to society, and of good example to succeeding generations? Such employments are eternal monuments of grandeur, they are of lasting utility, and are no more to be compared to the trifling industry of our days, than an Egyptian pyramid is to be compared with the luxury of Cleopatra, or the _via appia_ with the suppers of Heliogabalus. This was the taste in the virtuous days of antient simplicity: the greatness of a people appeared in the magnificence of useful works, and as virtue disappeared, a luxury resembling that of modern times took place. The aqueducts, common sewers, temples, highways, and burying places were the ornaments of consular Rome. The imperial grandeur of that city shone out in amphitheatres and baths; and the turpitude of manners (say the patrons of simplicity) which brought on the decline, ought to terrify those who make the apology of modern luxury and dissipation.

In order to set this question in a clear light, and to do justice both to the antients and moderns, let us once more enter into an examination of circumstances, and seek for effects in the causes which produce them. These are uniform in all ages; and if manners are different, the difference must be accounted for, without overturning the principles of reason and common sense.

QUEST. 7. In what manner, therefore, may a statesman establish industry, so as not to destroy simplicity, nor occasion a sudden revolution in the manners of his people, the great classes of which are supposed to live secure in ease and happiness; and, at the same time, so as to provide every one with necessaries who may be in want?

The observations we are going to make will point out the answer to this question: they will unfold still farther the political oeconomy of the antients, and explain how manners remained so pure from vicious luxury, notwithstanding the great and sumptuous works carried on, which strike us with so lofty an idea of their useful magnificence and noble simplicity. These observations will also confirm the justness of a distinction made, in the first chapter of this book, between labour and industry; by shewing that _labour_ may ever be procured, even by force, at the expence of furnishing man with his physical-necessary, from which no superfluity can proceed: whereas industry cannot be established, but by an adequate equivalent, proportioned, not to the absolutely necessary, but to the reasonable desire of the industrious; which equivalent becomes afterwards the means of diffusing a luxurious disposition among all the classes of a people.

If a statesman finds certain individuals in want, he must either feed them, in which case he may employ them as he thinks fit; or he must give them a piece of land, as the means of feeding themselves. If he gives the land, he can require no equivalent for it, because a person who has nothing can give nothing but his labour; and if he be obliged to labour for his food, he cannot purchase with labour the earth itself, which is the object of it. If it be asked, whether a statesman does better to give the food, or to give the land? I think it will appear very evident, that the first is the better course, because he can then exact an equivalent; and since in either way the person is fed, the produce of his labour is always clear gain. But in order to give the food, he must have it to give; in which case, it must either be a surplus-produce of public lands, or a contribution from the people. In both which cases, is implied a labour carried on beyond the personal wants of those who labour the ground. If this fund be applied in giving bread to those whom he employs in improving the soil of the country in general, it will have no immediate effect of destroying the simplicity of their manners; it will only extend the fund of their subsistence. If he employs them in making highways, aqueducts, common sewers, bridges, and the like; it will extend the correspondence between the different places of the country, and render living in cities more easy and agreeable: and these changes have an evident tendency towards destroying simplicity. But here let it be remarked, that the simplicity of individuals is not hurt by the industry carried on at the expence of the public. The superfluous food at the statesman’s disposal, is given to people in necessity, who are employed in relieving _the wants of the public, not of private persons_. But if, in consequence of the roads made, any inhabitant shall incline to remove from place to place in a chariot, instead of riding on horseback, or walking, he must engage some body to make the machine: this is a farther extension to occupation, on the side of those who labour; but the consequence of the employment is very different, when considered with regard to the simplicity of manners. The reason is plain: the ingenuity here must be paid for; and this superfluity in the hands of the workman is a fund for his becoming luxurious.

Industry destroys simplicity of manners in him who gives an equivalent for an article of superfluity; and the equivalent given frequently gives rise to a subordinate species of luxury in the workman. When industry therefore meets with encouragement from individuals, who give an equivalent in order to satisfy growing desires, it is a proof that they are quitting the simplicity of their manners. In this case, the wants and desires of mankind prove the mother of industry, which was the supposition in the first book; because, in fact, the industry of Europe is owing to this cause alone.

But the industry of antient times was very different, where the multitude of slaves ready to execute whatever was demanded, either by the state or by their masters, for the equivalent of simple maintenance only, prevented wealth from ever falling into the hands of industrious free men; and he who has no circulating equivalent to give for satisfying a desire of superfluity, must remain in his former simplicity. The labour therefore of those days producing no circulation, could not corrupt the manners of the people; because, remaining constantly poor, they never could increase their consumption of superfluity.

I must, in this place, insert the authority of an antient author, in order both to illustrate and to prove the justness of this representation of the political oeconomy of the antients.

There remains a discourse of Xenophon upon the improvement of the revenue of the state of Athens. Concerning the authenticity of this work, I have not the smallest doubt. It is a _chef d’oeuvre_ of its kind, and from it more light is to be had, in relation to the subject we are here upon, than from any thing I have ever seen, antient or modern.

From this antient monument we learn the sentiments of the author with regard to the proper employment of the three principal classes of the Athenian people, viz. the citizens, the strangers, and the slaves. From the plan he lays down we plainly discover, that, in the state of Athens, (more renowned than any other of antiquity for the arts of luxury and refinement) it never entred into the imagination of any politician to introduce industry even among the lowest classes of the _citizens_; and Xenophon’s plan was to reap all the benefits we at present enjoy from it, without producing any change upon the spirit of the Athenian people.

The state at this time was in use to impose taxes upon their confederate cities, in order to maintain their own common people, and Xenophon’s intention in this discourse was, not to lay down a plan to make them maintain themselves by industry, but to improve the revenue of the state in such a manner as out of it to give every citizen a pension of three oboli a day, or three pence three farthings of our money.

I shall not here go through every branch of his plan, nor point out the resources he had fallen upon to form a sufficient fund for that purpose; but he says, that in case of any deficiency in the domestic revenue of the state, people from all quarters, Princes and strangers of note, in all countries, would be proud of contributing towards it, for the honour of being recorded in the public monuments of Athens, and having their names transmitted to posterity as benefactors to the state in the execution of so grand a design.

In our days, such an idea would appear ridiculous; in the days of Xenophon, it was perfectly rational. At that time great quantities of gold and silver were found locked up in the coffers of the rich: this was in a great measure useless to them, in the common course of life, and was the more easily parted with from a sentiment of vanity or ostentation.

In our days, the largest income is commonly found too small for the current expence of the proprietor. From whence it happens, that presents, great expence at funerals and marriages, godfathers gifts, &c. so very familiar among ourselves in former times, are daily going out of fashion. These are extraordinary and unforeseen expences which our ancestors were fond of, because they flattered their vanity, without diminishing the fund of their current expence: but as now we have no full coffers to fly to, we find them excessively burthensome, and endeavour to retrench them as soon as we can, not from frugality, God knows, but in consequence o£ a change in our manners.

Besides providing this daily pension of three pence three farthings a day for every citizen of Athens, rich and poor, he proposed to build, at the public charge, many trading vessels, a great many inns and houses of entertainment for all strangers in the sea ports, to erect shops, warehouses, exchanges, &c. the rents of which would increase the revenue, and add great beauty and magnificence to the city. In short, Xenophon recommends to the state to perform, by the hands of their slaves and strangers, what a free people in our days are constantly employed in doing in every country of industry. While the Athenian citizens continued to receive their daily pensions, proportioned to the value of their pure physical-necessary, their business being confined to their service in the army in time of war, their attendance in public assemblies, and the theatres in times of peace, clothed like a parcel of capucins, they, as became freemen, were taught to despise industrious labour, and to glory in the austerity and simplicity of their manners. The pomp and magnificence of the Persian Emperors were a subject of ridicule in Greece, and a proof of their barbarity, and of the slavery of their subjects. From this plain representation of Xenophon’s plan, I hope, the characteristic difference between antient and modern oeconomy is manifest; and for such readers as take a particular delight in comparing the systems of simplicity and luxury, I recommend the perusal of this most valuable discourse.

Combining, therefore, all these circumstances, and comparing them with the contrast which is found as to every particular, in our times, I think it is but doing justice to the moderns, to allow, that the extensive luxury which daily diffuses itself through every class of a people, is more owing to the abolishing of slavery, the equal distribution of riches, and the circulation of an adequate equivalent for every service, than to any greater corruption of our manners, than what prevailed among the antients.

In order to have industry directed towards the object of public utility, the public, not individuals, must have the equivalent to give. Must not the employment be adapted to the taste of him who purchases it? Now, in antient times, most public works were performed either by slaves, or at the price of the pure physical-necessary of free men. We find the price of a pyramid, recorded to us by Herodotus, in the quantity of turnips, onions, and garlic, consumed by the builders of it. Those who made the _via appia_, I apprehend, were just as poor when it was finished as the day it was begun; and this must always be the case, when the work requires no peculiar dexterity in the workmen. If, on the other hand, examples can be brought where workmen gained high wages, then the consequences must have been the same as in our days.

So long, therefore, as industry is not directed to such objects as require a particular address, which, by the principles laid down in the twenty first chapter, raise profits above the physical-necessary, the industrious never can become rich; and if they are paid in money, this money must return into the hands of those who feed them: and if no superfluity be found any where, but in the hands of the state, such industry may consume a surplus of subsistence, but never can draw one penny into circulation. This I apprehend to be a just application of our principles, to the state of industry under the Roman republic, and that species of industry which we call _labour_. We are not therefore to ascribe the taste for employment in those days to the virtue of the times. A man who had riches, and who spent them, spent them no doubt then, as at present, to gratify his desires; and if the simplicity of the times furnished no assistance to his own invention, in diversifying them, the consequence was, that the money was not spent, but locked up. I have heard many a man say, had I so much money I should not know how to spend it. The thing is certainly true; for people do not commonly take it into their head to lay it out for the public.

No body, I believe, will deny that money is better employed in building a house, or in producing something useful and permanent, than in providing articles of mere transitory superfluity. But what principle of politics can influence the taste of the proprietors of wealth? This being the case, a statesman is brought to a dilemma; either to allow industry to run into a channel little beneficial to the state, little permanent in its nature, or to deprive the poor of the advantage resulting from it. May I not farther suggest, that a statesman, who is at the head of a people, whose taste is directed towards a trifling species of expence, does very well to diminish the fund of their prodigality, by calling in, by means of taxes, a part of the circulating equivalent which they gave for it? When once he is enriched by these contributions, he comes to be in the same situation with antient statesmen, with this difference, that they had their slaves at their command, whom they fed and provided for; and that he has the free, for the sake of an equivalent with which they feed and provide for themselves. He then can set public works on foot, and inspire, by his example, a taste for industry of a more rational kind, which may advance the public good, and procure a lasting benefit to the nation.

I have said above, that the acquisition of money, by the sale of industry to strangers, or in return for consumable commodities, was a way of augmenting the general worth of a nation. Now I say, that whoever can transform the most consumable commodities of a country into the most durable and most beneficial works, makes a high improvement. If therefore meat and drink, which are of all things the most consumable, can be turned into harbours, high roads, canals, and public buildings, is not the improvement inexpressible? This is in the power of every statesman to accomplish, who has subsistence at his disposal; and beyond the power of all those who have it not. There is no occasion for money to improve a country. All the magnificent buildings which ornament Italy, are a much more proper representation of a scanty subsistence, than of the gold and silver found in that country at the time they were executed. Let me now conclude with a few miscellaneous observations on what has been said.

OBSER. 1. When I admire the magnificence and grandeur of publick works in any country, such as stupendous churches, amphitheatres, roads, dykes, canals; in a word, when I examine Holland, the greatest work perhaps ever done by man, I am never struck with the expence. I compare them with the numbers of men who have lived to perform them. When I see another country well inhabited, where no such works appear, the contrast suggests abundance of reflections.

As to the first, I conclude, that while these works were carried on, either slavery, or taxes must have been established; because it seldom happens, that a Prince will, out of his own patrimony, launch out into such expences, purely to serve the public. Public works are carried on by the public; and for this purpose, either the persons or purses of individuals, must be at its command. The first I call slavery; that is service: the second taxes; that is public contributions in money or in necessaries.

OBSER. 2. I farther conclude, that nothing is to be gathered from those works, which should engage us to entertain a high opinion of the wealth, or other species of magnificence in the people who executed them. All that can be determined positively concerning their oeconomy as to this particular, is, that at the time they were performed, agriculture must have been exercised as a trade, in order to furnish a surplus sufficient to maintain the workmen; or that subsistence must have come from abroad, either as a return for other species of industry, or gratuitously, that is, by rapine, tribute, &c.

OBSER. 3. That the consequence of such works, is, to make meat, drink, and necessaries circulate, from the hands of those who have a superfluity of them, into those who are employed to labour; or to oblige those who formerly worked for themselves only, to work also in part for others. To execute this, there must be a subordination: for who will increase his labour, voluntarily, in order to feed people who do not work for him, but for the public? This combination was neglected throughout the first book; because we there left mankind at liberty to follow the bent of their inclinations. This was necessary to give a right idea of the subject we then intended to treat, and to point out the different effects of slavery and liberty; but now, that we have formed trading nations, and riveted a multitude of reciprocal dependencies, which tie the members together, there is less danger of introducing restraints; because the advantages which people find, from a well ordered society, make them put up the better with the inconveniencies of supporting and improving it. It is an universal principle, that instruction must be given with gentleness. A young horse is to be caressed when the saddle is first put upon his back: any thing that appears harsh, let it be ever so useful or necessary, must be suspended in the beginning, in order to captivate the inclination of the creature which we incline to instruct.

OBSER. 4. When a statesman knows the extent and quality of the territory of his country, so as to be able to estimate what numbers it may feed; he may lay down his plan of political oeconomy, and chalk out a distribution of inhabitants, as if the number were already compleat. It will depend upon his judgment alone, and upon the combination of circumstances, foreign and domestic, to distribute, and to employ the classes, at every period during this execution, in the best manner to advance agriculture, so as to bring all the lands to a thorough cultivation. A ruling principle here, is, to keep the husbandmen closely employed, that their surplus may be carried as high as possible; because this surplus is the main spring of all alienation and industry. The next thing is to make this surplus circulate; no man must eat of it for nothing. What a prodigious difference does a person find, when he considers two countries, equally great, equally fertile, equally cultivated, equally peopled, the one under the oeconomy here represented; the other, where every one is employed in feeding and providing for himself only.

A statesman, therefore, under such circumstances, should reason thus: I have a country which maintains a million of inhabitants, I suppose, and which is capable of maintaining as many more; I find every one employed in providing for himself, and considering the simplicity of their manners, a far less number will be sufficient to do all the work: the consequence is, that many are almost idle, while others, who have many children, are starving. Let me call my people together, and shew them the inconvenience of having no roads. He proposes that every one who chooses to work at those shall be fed and taken care of by the community, and his lands distributed to those who incline to take them. The advantage is felt, the people are engaged to work a little harder, so as to overtake the cultivations of the portions of those who have abandoned them. Upon this revolution, labour is increased, the soil continues cultivated as before, and the additional labour of the farmers appears in a fine high road. Is this any more than a method to engage one part of a people to labour, in order to maintain another?

OBSER. 5. Here I ask, whether it be not better to feed a man, in order to make him labour and be useful, than to feed him in order to make him live and digest his victuals? This last was the case of multitudes during the ages of antient slavery, as well as the consequence of ill directed modern charity. One and the other being equally well calculated for producing a simplicity of manners: and Horace has painted it to the life, when he says,

_Nos numerus sumus, et fruges consumere nati._

This I have heard humorously translated, though nastily I confess; We add to the number of t—d-mills. A very just representation of many of the human species! to their shame be it spoken, as it equally casts a reflection on religion and on government.

Consistently with these principles, we find no great or public work carried on in countries of great liberty. Nothing of that kind is to be seen among the Tartars, or hunting Indians. These I call free nations, but not our European republics, where I have found just as much subordination and constraint as any where else.

I have, on several occasions, let drop some expressions with regard to charity, which I am sensible might be misinterpreted. It will therefore be proper to make some apology, which no body can suspect of insincerity; because my reason for introducing it, is with a view to a farther illustration of my subject.

When I see a rich and magnificent monastery of begging friars, adorned with profusion of sculpture, a stupendous pile of building, stately towers, incrustations of marble, beautiful pavements; when I compare the execution and the expence of all these, with the faculties of a person of the largest fortune, I find there is no proportion between what the beggars have executed with the produce of private charities, and what any Lord has done with his overgrown estate. Nay monasteries there are which, had they been executed by Princes, would have been cited by historians, from generation to generation, as eternal monuments of the greatest prodigality and dissipation. Here then is an effect of charity, which I have heard condemned by many, and I think without much reason. What prostitution of riches! say they: how usefully might all this money have been employed, in establishing manufactures, building a navy, and in many other good purposes? Whereas I am so entirely taken up with the effects arising from the execution of the work, that I seldom give myself time to reflect upon its intention. The building of this monastery has fed the industrious poor, has encouraged the liberal arts, has improved the taste of the inhabitants, has opened the door to the curiosity of strangers: and when I examine my purse, I find that in place of having contributed to the building of it from a charitable disposition, my curiosity to see it has obliged me to contribute my proportion of the expence. I spend my money in that country, and so do other strangers, without bringing away any thing for it. No balance of trade is clearer than this. The miraculous tongue of St. Anthony of Padua, has brought more clear money into that city than the industry of a thousand weavers could have done: the charity given is not to the monks, but to the poor whom they employ. If young wits, therefore, make a jest of such a devotion; I ask, who ought to be laughed at, those who give, or those who receive money for the show?

In a country where such works are usually carried on, they cease in a great measure to be useful, whenever they are finished; and a new one should be set on foot directly, or what will become of those who are without work? It must not be concluded from this, that the usefulness of public works is not a principal consideration. The more a work is useful after it is done, so much the better; because it may then have the effect of giving bread to those who have not built it. But whether useful or not afterwards, it must be useful while it is going on; and many, who with pleasure will give a thousand pounds to adorn a church, would not give a shilling to build Westminster bridge, or the port of Rochefort; and the poor live equally by the execution of either. Expensive public works, are therefore a means of giving bread to the poor, of advancing industry, without hurting the simplicity of manners; which is an answer to the seventh question.

OBSER. 6. Great works found in one country, and none found in another, is no proof that the first have surpassed the second in labour and industry: the contrast only marks the different division of property, or taste of expence. Every undertaking marks a particular interest. Palaces are a representation of rich individuals; snug boxes, in the neighbourhood of cities, represent small but easy fortunes; hutts point out poverty; aqueducts, highways, &c. testify an opulent common good: and if these be found in a country where no vestige of private expence appears, I then must conclude, they have been executed by slaves, or by oppression; otherwise somebody, at least, would have gained by the execution; and his gains would appear in one species of expence or another.

OBSER. 7. In countries where fortunes have been unequally divided, where there have been few rich and many poor, it is common to find lasting monuments of labour; because great fortunes only are capable of producing them. As a proof of this let us compare the castles of antient times (I mean four or five hundred years ago) with the houses built of late. At that time fortunes were much more unequal than at present, and accordingly we find the habitations of the great in most countries not numerous, but of an extraordinary bulk and solidity. Now a building is never to be judged of by the money it cost, but by the labour it required. From the houses in a country I judge of the opulence of the great, and of the proportion of fortunes among the inhabitants. The taste in which these old castles are built, marks the power of those who built them, and, as their numbers are small, we may judge, from the nature of man, who loves imitation, that the only reason for it was, that there were few in a condition to build them. Why do we find in modern times a far less disproportion between the conveniency with which every body is lodged, than formerly; but only because riches are more equally divided, from the operations of industry above-described.

OBSER. 8. From this we may gather, that lasting monuments are no adequate measure of the industry of a country. The expence of a modern prince, in a splendid court, numerous armies, frequent journeys, magnificent banquets, operas, masquerades, tournaments, and shews, may give employment and bread to as many hands, as the taste of him who built the pyramid; and the smoke of the gun-powder at his reviews, of the flambeaus and wax lights at his entertainments, may be of as great use to posterity, as the shadow of the pyramid, which is the only visible effect produced by it; but the one remains for ever, the other leaves no vestige behind it. The very remaining of the work, however useless in itself, becomes useful, in so far as it is ornamental, inspires noble sentiments of emulation to succeeding princes, the effects of which will still be productive of the good consequences of keeping people employed. The expence of the other flatters the senses, and gives delight: there is no question of choice here. All useless expence gratifies vanity only; accident alone makes one species permanent, another transitory.

Those who have money may be _engaged_ to part with it in favour of the poor, but never forced to part with it, to the prejudice of their posterity. Inspire, if you can, a good and useful taste of expence; nothing so right; but never check the dissipation of ready money, with a view to preserve private fortunes. Leave such precautions to the prudence of every individual. Every man, no doubt, has as good a right to perpetuate and provide for his own posterity, as a state has to perpetuate the welfare of the whole community; it is the combination of every private interest which forms the common weal. From this I conclude, that, without the strongest reasons to the contrary, perpetual substitutions of property should be left as free to those who possess lands, as locking up in chests should be permitted to those who have much money.

QUEST. 8. What are the principles which influence the establishment of mercantile companies; and what effects do these produce upon the interests of trade?

There is a close connexion between the principles relating to companies, and those we have examined in the twenty third chapter, concerning corporations. The one and the other have excellent consequences, and both are equally liable to abuse. A right examination of principles is the best method to advance the first and to prevent the latter.

The advantages of companies are chiefly two.

1. That by uniting the _stocks_ of several merchants together, an enterprise far beyond the force of any one, becomes practicable to the community.

2. That by uniting the _interests_ of several merchants, who direct their _foreign_ commerce towards the same object, the competition between them _abroad_ is taken away; and whatever is thus gained, is so much clear profit, not only to the company, but to the society of which they are members.

It is in consideration of the last circumstance, that companies for foreign commerce have a claim to extensive privileges. But no encouragement given to such associations should be carried farther than the public good necessarily requires it should be. The public may reward the ingenuity, industry and inventions of particular members, and support a private undertaking as far as is reasonable; but every encouragement given, ought to be at the expence of the whole community, not at that of particular denominations of inhabitants.

The disadvantages proceeding from companies are easily to be guessed at, from the very nature of the advantages we have been setting forth: and the relation between the one and the other will point out the remedies.

1. The weight of money in the hands of companies, and the public encouragement given, them, crush the efforts of private adventurers, while their success inspires emulation, and a desire in every individual to carry on a trade equally profitable.

Here a statesman ought nicely to examine the advantages which the company reaps from the incorporation of their stock, and those which proceed from the public encouragement given to the undertaking; that with an impartial hand, he may make an equal distribution of public benefits. And when he finds it impossible to contribute to the advancement of the public good, by communicating the privileges of companies to private adventurers, he ought to facilitate the admittance of every person properly qualified into such associations.

2. The second disadvantage of companies, is, a concomitant of that benefit so sensibly felt by the state, from the union of their interest, while they purchase in foreign markets: the same union which, at the time of buying, secures the company from all competitions, proves equally disadvantageous to those who purchase from them at home. They are masters of their price, and can regulate their profits by the _height_ of demand; whereas they ought to keep them constantly proportioned to the real value of the merchandize.

The advantages resulting from the union of many private stocks is common to all companies; but those we have mentioned to proceed from the union of their interest, is peculiar to those who carry on an exclusive trade in certain distant parts of the world. We have, in a former chapter, laid down the maxims which influence the conduct of a statesman in regulating the prices of merchandize, by watching over the balance of work and demand, and by preserving the principles of competition in their full activity. But here a case presents itself, where, upon one side of the contract, competition can have no effect, and where its introduction, by destroying the exclusive privilege of the company to trade in certain countries, is forbid for the sake of the public good.

What method, therefore, can be fallen upon to preserve the advantage which the nation reaps from the company’s buying in foreign parts without being exposed to competition; and at the same time to prevent the disadvantage to which the individuals of the society are exposed at home, when they endeavour, in competition with one another, to purchase from a company, who, in virtue of the same exclusive privilege, are united in their interest, and become masters to demand what price they think fit.

It may be answered, that it cannot be said of companies as of private dealers, that they profit of every little circumstance of competition, to raise their price. Those have a fixed standard, and all the world buys from them at the same rate; so that retailers, who supply the consumption, have in one respect this notable advantage, that all buying at the same price, no one can undersell another; and the competition between them secures the public from exorbitant prices.

I agree that these advantages are felt, and that they are real; but still they prove no more than that the establishment of companies is not so hurtful to the interest of those who consume their goods, as it would be could they profit to the utmost of their exclusive privilege in selling by retail. But it does not follow from this, that the profits upon such a trade do not rise (in consequence of their privilege) above the standard proper for making the whole commerce of a nation flourish. The very jealousy and dissatisfaction, conceived by other merchants, equally industrious and equally well deserving of the public, because of the great advantages enjoyed by those incorporated, under the protection of exclusive privileges, is a hurt to trade in general, is contrary to that principle of impartiality which should animate a good statesman, and should be prevented if possible. Let us therefore go to the bottom of this affair; and, by tracing the progress of such mercantile undertakings, as are proper objects for the foundation of companies, and which entitle them to demand and to obtain certain exclusive privileges, let us endeavour to find out a method by which a statesman may establish such societies, so as to have it in his power to lay their inland sales under certain regulations, capable to supply the want of competition; and to prevent the profits of exclusive trade from rising, considerably, above the level of _that_ which is carried on without any such assistance from the public.