Chapter XIII: Front Matter (13)

“The earth,” continues M. Say, “is an admirable chemical workshop, in which are combined and elaborated a multitude of materials and elements which are produced in the shape of grain, fruit, flax, etc. Nature has presented to man, ‹gratuitously›, this vast workshop divided into a great number of compartments fitted for various kinds of production. But certain individual members of society have appropriated them, and proclaimed,—This compartment is mine,—that other is mine, and all that is produced in it is my exclusive property. And the astonishing thing is, that this ‹usurped privilege›, far from having been fatal to the community, has been found productive of advantage to it.”

Undoubtedly this arrangement has been advantageous; but why? Just because it is neither a privilege nor usurped, and [p255] that the man who exclaims, “This domain is mine,” has not had it in his power to add, “What has been produced on it is my exclusive property.” On the contrary, he says, “What has been produced is the exclusive property of whoever desires to purchase it, by giving me back simply the same amount of labour which I have undergone, and which in this instance I have saved his undergoing.” The co-operation of nature in the work of production, which is gratuitous for me, is gratuitous for him also.

M. Say indeed distinguishes, in the value of corn, the parts contributed by Property, by Capital, and by Labour. He has with the best intention been at great pains to justify this first part of the remuneration which accrues to the proprietor, and which is the recompense of no labour, either anterior or present; but he fails; for, like Scrope, he is obliged to fall back on the last and least satisfactory of all grounds of vindication, ‹necessity›.

“If it be impossible,” he remarks, “for production to be effected, not only without land and without capital, but without these means of production previously becoming ‹property›, may it not be said that proprietors of land and capital exercise a productive function, since, without the employment of these means, production would not take place?—a convenient function no doubt, but which, in the present state of society, presupposes accumulation, which is the result of production or saving,” etc.

The confusion here is palpable. The accumulation has been effected by the proprietor in his character of Capitalist—a character with which at present we have no concern. But what M. Say represents as convenient is the part played by the proprietor, in his proper character of proprietor, exacting a price for the gifts of God. It is this part which it is necessary to vindicate, and it has no connexion with either accumulation or saving.

“If, then, property in land and in capital” (why assimilate the two?) “be the fruit of production, I am warranted in representing such property as a working and productive machine, for which its author, although sitting with his hands across, is entitled to exact a recompense.”

Still the same confusion. The man who constructs a machine is proprietor of a ‹capital›, from which he legitimately derives an income, because he is paid, not for the labour of the machine, but for his own labour in constructing it. But ‹land›, or ‹territorial› property, is ‹not the result of human production›. What right, then, have we to be paid for its co-operation? The author has here mixed up two different kinds of property in the same category, in order that the same reasons which justify the one may serve for the vindication of the other.

«Blanqui.»—“The agriculturist who tills, manures, sows, and reaps his field, furnishes labour, without which nothing would be produced. But the action of the soil in making the seed germinate, and of the sun in bringing the plant to maturity, are independent of that labour, and co-operate in the formation of the ‹value› represented by the harvest. . . Smith and other Economists pretend that the labour of [p256] man is the exclusive source of value. Assuredly the industry of the labourer is not the exclusive source of the value of a sack of corn or a bushel of potatoes. His skill can no more succeed in producing the phenomenon of germination than the patience of the alchymist could succeed in discovering the philosopher’s stone. This is evident.”

It is impossible to imagine a more complete confusion than we have here, first between utility and value, and then between onerous and gratuitous utility.

«Joseph Garnier.»—“The rent of the proprietor differs essentially from the wages of the labourer and the profits of the capitalist, inasmuch as these two kinds of remuneration are the recompense, the one of trouble or pains taken, the other of a privation submitted to, and a risk encountered, whilst Rent is received by the proprietor ‹gratuitously, and in virtue alone of a legal convention› which recognises and maintains in certain individuals the right to landed property.”—(‹Eléments de l’Économie Politique›, 2^e edition, p. 293.)

In other words, the labourer and capitalist are paid, in the name of equity, for the services they render; and the proprietor is paid, in the name of law, for services which he does not render.

“The boldest innovators do not go farther than to propose the substitution of collective for individual property. ‹It seems to us that they have reason on their side as regards human right›; but they are wrong practically, inasmuch as they are unable to exhibit the advantages of a better Economical system.” . . . —(‹Ibid.›, pp. 377, 378.)

“But at the same time, ‹in avowing that property is a privilege, a monopoly›, we must add, that it is a natural and a useful monopoly. . . .

“In short, it seems to be admitted by Political Economy” [it is so, alas! and here lies the evil] “that property does not flow from divine right, demesnial right, or any other speculative right, but simply from its utility. ‹It is only a monopoly tolerated in the interest of all›,” etc.

This is precisely the judgment pronounced by Scrope, and repeated in modified terms by Say.

I think I have now satisfactorily shown that Political Economy, setting out with the false datum, that “natural agents possess or create value,” has arrived at this conclusion, “that property (in as far as it appropriates and is remunerated for this value, which is independent of all human service) is a privilege, a monopoly, a usurpation; but that it is a necessary monopoly, and must be maintained.”

It remains for me to show that the Socialists set out with the same postulate, only they modify the conclusion in this way: “Property is a necessary monopoly; it must be maintained, but we must demand, from those who have property, compensation to those who have none, in the shape of Right to Employment.”

I shall, then, dispose of the doctrine of the Communists, who, arguing from the same premises, conclude that “Property is a monopoly, and ought to be abolished.”

Finally, and at the risk of repetition, I shall, if I can, expose the fallacy of the premises on which all the three conclusions are based, namely, that ‹natural agents possess or create value›. If I succeed in [p257] this, if I demonstrate that natural agents, even when appropriated, produce, not Value, but Utility, which, passing from the hands of the proprietor without leaving anything behind it, reaches the consumer gratuitously,—in that case, all—Economists, Socialists, Communists—must at length come to a common understanding to leave the world, in this respect, just as it is.

«M. Considérant.»[59]—“In order to discover how and under what conditions ‹private property› may Legitimately manifest and develop itself, we must get possession of the ‹fundamental principle of the Right of Property›; and here it is:

“Every man «POSSESSES LEGITIMATELY THE THINGS» ‹which have been› «CREATED» ‹by his labour, his intelligence, or›, to speak more generally, «BY HIS ACTIVITY».

“This Principle is incontestable, and it is right to remark that it contains implicitly the acknowledgment of the Right of all to the Soil. The earth not having been created by man, it follows in fact, from the fundamental principle of Property, that the Soil, which is a common fund given over to the species, can in no shape legitimately become the absolute and exclusive property of this or that individual who has not created ‹this value›. Let us establish, then, the true Theory of Property, by basing it exclusively on the unexceptionable principle which makes ‹the legitimacy of Property› hinge upon the fact of ‹the› «CREATION» ‹of the thing, or of the value possessed›. To accomplish this we must direct our reasoning to the origin of industry, that is to say, to the origin and development of agriculture, manufactures, the arts, etc., in human society.

“Suppose that on a solitary island, on the territory of a nation, or on the entire surface of the earth (for the extent of the field of action makes no difference in our estimate of facts), a generation of mankind devotes itself for the first time to industry—for the first time engages in agriculture, manufactures, etc. Each generation, by its labour, by its intelligence, by the exertion of its own proper activity, ‹creates products, develops value›, which did not exist on the earth in its rude and primitive state. Is it not perfectly evident that, among the first generation of labourers, Property would conform to Right, «PROVIDED» ‹the value or wealth produced by the activity of all› were distributed among the producers «IN PROPORTION TO THE CO-OPERATION» of each in the creation of the general riches? That is beyond dispute.

“Now, the results of the labour of this generation may be divided into two categories, which it is important to distinguish.

“The ‹first category› includes the products of the soil, which belong to this first generation in its character of usufructuary, as having been increased, refined, or manufactured by its labour, by its industry. These products, whether raw or manufactured, consist either of objects of consumption or of instruments of labour. It is clear that these products belong, ‹in entire and legitimate property›, to those who have created them by their activity. Each of them, then, has «RIGHT», either to consume these products immediately, to store them up to be disposed of afterwards at pleasure, or to employ them, exchange them, give them away, or transmit them to any one he chooses, without receiving authority from anyone. On this hypothesis, this Property is evidently ‹Legitimate›, respectable, sacred. We cannot assail it without assailing ‹Justice›, ‹Right›, ‹individual liberty›,—without, in short, being guilty of Spoliation.

“‹Second category.› But the creations attributable to the industrious activity of this first generation are not all included in the preceding category. This generation has created not only the products which we have just described (objects of consumption and instruments of labour),—it has also added an ‹additional value› to the ‹primitive value› of the soil, by cultivation, by erections, by the permanent improvements which it has executed.

“This additional value constitutes evidently a product, a value, due to the activity of the first generation. Now, if by any means (we are not concerned at present with the question of means),—if by any means whatever the property of this additional value is equitably distributed among the different members of society, that is to say, is distributed among them proportionally to the co-operation of each in its creation, each will possess ‹legitimately› the portion which has fallen to him. He may, then, dispose of this individual Property, legitimate as he sees it to be, exchange it, give it away, or transmit it without control, society having over these values no right or power whatsoever. [p258]

“We may, therefore, easily conceive that when the second generation makes its appearance, it will find upon the land two sorts of Capital:

“1st, The ‹primitive or natural capital›, which has not been created by the men of the first generation—that is, the ‹value› of the land in its rough, uncultivated state.

“2d, The ‹capital created› by the first generation: including (1), the ‹products›, commodities, and instruments, which shall not have been consumed or used by the first generation; (2), the additional value which the labour of the first generation has added to the value of the rough, uncultivated land.

“It is evident, then, and results clearly and necessarily from the fundamental principle of the Right of Property, which I have just explained, that each individual of the second generation has an equal right to the ‹primitive or natural capital›, whilst he has no right to the other species of ‹capital› which has been ‹created› by the labour of the first generation. Each individual of the first generation may, then, dispose of his share of this ‹created capital› in favour of whatever individual of the second generation he may please to select, children, friends, etc., and no one, not even the State itself, as we have just seen, has the slightest right (on pretence of Property) to control the disposal which, as donor or testator, he may have made of such capital.

“Observe that on this hypothesis the man of the second generation is already in a better situation than the man of the first, seeing that, besides his right to the ‹primitive capital›, which is preserved to him, he has his chance of receiving a portion of the ‹created capital›, that is to say, of a value which he has not produced, and which represents anterior labour.

“If, then, we suppose things to be arranged in society in such a way that,

“1st, The right to the ‹primitive capital›, that is, the usufruct of the soil in its natural state, is preserved, or that an «EQUIVALENT RIGHT» is conferred on every individual born within the territory;

“2d, That the ‹created capital› is continually distributed among men, ‹as it is produced›, in proportion to the co-operation of each in the production of that capital;

“If, we say, the mechanism of the social organization shall satisfy these two conditions, «PROPERTY», under such a régime, would be established «IN ITS ABSOLUTE LEGITIMACY», and ‹Fact› would be in unison with ‹Right›.”—(‹Théorie du droit de propriété et du droit au travail›, 3^e edition, p. 17.)

We see here that the socialist author distinguishes between two kinds of value, ‹created value›, which is the subject of legitimate property, and ‹uncreated value›, which he denominates the ‹value of land in its natural state›, ‹primitive capital›, ‹natural capital›, which cannot become individual property but by usurpation. Now, according to the theory which I am anxious to establish, the ideas expressed by the words ‹uncreated›, ‹primitive›, ‹natural›, exclude radically these other ideas, ‹value›, ‹capital›. This is the error in M. Considérant’s premises, by which he is landed in this melancholy conclusion:

“That, under the régime of Property, in all civilized nations, the common fund, over which the entire species has a full right of usufruct, has been invaded—has been confiscated—by the few, to the exclusion of the many. Why, were even a single human being excluded from his Right to the Usufruct of this common fund, that very exclusion would of itself constitute an attack upon Right by the Institution of Property, and that institution, by sanctioning such invasion of right, would be unjust and illegitimate.”

M. Considérant, however, acknowledges that the earth could not be cultivated but for the institution of individual property. Here, then, is a ‹necessary monopoly›. What can we do, then, to reconcile all, and preserve the rights which the ‹prolétaires›, or men of no property, have to the primitive, natural, uncreated capital, and to the value of the land in its rough and uncultivated state? [p259]

“Why, let Society, which has taken possession of the land, and taken away from man the power of exercising, freely and at will, his four natural rights on the surface of the soil,—let this industrious society cede to the individual, in compensation for the rights of which it has deprived him, the ‹Right to Employment›.”—[«Le Droit au Travail.»]

Now, nothing in the world is clearer than that this theory, except the conclusion which it seeks to establish, is exactly the theory of the Economists. The man who purchases an agricultural product remunerates three things: 1st, The actual labour—nothing more legitimate; 2dly, the ‹additional value› imparted to the soil by anterior labour—still nothing more legitimate; 3dly, and lastly, the ‹primitive›, or ‹natural›, or ‹uncreated capital›,—that gratuitous gift of God, which M. Considérant denominates the ‹value of the land in its rough and natural state›; Adam Smith, the ‹indestructible powers of the soil›; Ricardo, the ‹productive and indestructible powers of the land›; Say, ‹natural agents›. ‹This› is the part which has been ‹usurped›, according to M. Considérant; ‹this› is what has been ‹usurped›, according to J. B. Say. It is ‹this› which constitutes ‹illegitimacy› and ‹spoliation› in the eyes of the Socialists; which constitutes ‹monopoly› and ‹privilege› in the eyes of the Economists. They are at one as to the ‹necessity› and the utility of this arrangement. Without it the earth would produce nothing, say the disciples of Smith; without it we should return to the savage state, re-echo the disciples of Fourier.

We find that in theory, and as regards right (at least with reference to this important question), the understanding between the two schools is much more cordial than we should have imagined. They differ only as to the legislative consequences to be deduced from the fact on which they agree. “Seeing that property is tainted with illegitimacy, inasmuch as it assigns to the proprietor a part of the remuneration to which he has no right; and seeing, at the same time, that it is necessary, let us respect it, but demand indemnities. No, say the Economists, although it is a monopoly, yet seeing that it is a necessary monopoly, let us respect it, and let it alone.” And yet they urge this weak defence but feebly; for one of their latest organs, M. J. Garnier, adds, “You have reason on your side, as regards human right, but you are wrong practically, inasmuch as you have failed to point out the effects of a better system.” To which the Socialists immediately reply, “We have found it; it is the Right to Employment—try it.”

In the meantime M. Proudhon steps in. You imagine, perhaps, that this redoubtable objector is about to question the premises on which the Economists and Socialists ground their agreement. Not at all. He can demolish property without that. [p260] He appropriates the premises, grasps them, closes with them, and most logically deduces his conclusion. “You grant,” he says, “that the gifts of God are possessed not only of utility but of ‹value›, and that these gifts the proprietor usurps and sells. Then Property is theft; and it is not necessary to maintain it; it is not necessary to demand compensation for it; what ‹is› necessary is to ‹abolish› it.”

M. Proudhon has brought forward many arguments against landed Property. The most formidable one—indeed the only formidable one—is that with which these authors have furnished him, by confounding utility with value.

“Who has the right,” he asks, “to charge for the use of the soil,—for that wealth which does not proceed from man’s act? Who is entitled to the rent of land? The producer of the land, without doubt. Who made it? God. Then, proprietor, begone.

“ . . . . But the Creator of the earth does not sell it—he gives it; and in giving it he shows no respect of persons. Why, then, among all his children, are some treated as eldest sons, and some as bastards? If equality of inheritance be our original right, why should our posthumous right be inequality of conditions?”

Replying to J. B. Say, who had compared land to an instrument, he says:

“I grant it that land is an instrument; but who is the workman? Is it the proprietor? Is it he who, by the efficacious virtue of the right of property, communicates to it vigour and fertility? It is precisely here that we discover in what consists the monopoly of the proprietor,—he did not make the instrument, and he charges for its use. Were the Creator to present Himself and demand the rent of land, we must account for it to Him; but the proprietor, who represents himself as invested with the same power, ought to exhibit his procuration.”

That is evident. The three systems in reality make only one. Economists, Socialists, Egalitaires, all direct against landed proprietors the same reproach, that of charging for what they have no right to charge for. This wrong some call ‹monopoly›, some ‹illegitimacy›, others ‹theft›—these are but different phases of the same complaint.

Now I would appeal to every intelligent reader whether this complaint is or is not well founded? Have I not demonstrated that there is but one thing which comes between the gifts of God and the hungry mouth, namely, human service?

Economists say, that “Rent is what we pay to the proprietor for the use of the productive and indestructible powers of the soil.” I say, No—Rent is like what we pay to the water-carrier for the pains he has taken to construct his barrow, and the water would cost us more if he had carried it on his back. In the same way, corn, flax, wool, timber, meat, fruits, would have cost us more if the proprietor had not previously improved the instrument which furnishes them.

Socialists assert that “originally the masses enjoyed their right [p261] to the land on condition of labour, but that now they are excluded and robbed of their natural patrimony.” I answer, No—they are neither excluded nor robbed—they enjoy, gratuitously, the utility contributed by the soil on condition of labour, that is to say, by repaying that labour to those who have saved it to them.

Égalitaires allege that “the monopoly of the proprietor consists in this, that not having made the instrument, he yet charges for its use.” I answer, No—the land-instrument, so far as it is the work of God, produces ‹utility›, and that utility is gratuitous; it is beyond the power of the proprietor to charge for it. The land-instrument, so far as it is prepared by the proprietor,—so far as he has laboured it, enclosed it, drained it, improved it, and furnished it with other necessary instruments, produces ‹value›, and that value represents actual human ‹services›, and for these alone is the proprietor paid. You must either admit the legitimacy of this demand, or reject your own principle—the ‹mutuality of services›.

In order to satisfy ourselves as to the true elements of the value of land, let us attend to the way in which landed property is formed—not by conquest and violence, but according to the laws of labour and exchange. Let us see what takes place in the United States.

Brother Jonathan, a laborious water-carrier of New York, set out for the Far-west, carrying in his purse a thousand dollars, the fruit of his labour and frugality.

He journeyed across many fertile provinces, where the soil, the sun, and the rain worked wonders, but which nevertheless ‹were entirely destitute of value› in the economical and ‹practical› sense of the word.

Being a little of a philosopher, he said to himself—“Let Adam Smith and Ricardo say what they will, ‹value› must ‹be something else than the natural and indestructible productive power of the soil›.”

At length, having reached the State of Arkansas, he found a beautiful property of about 100 acres, which the government had advertised for sale at the price of a dollar an acre.

A dollar an acre! he said—that is very little, almost nothing. I shall purchase this land, clear it, and sell the produce, and the drawer of water shall become a lord of the soil!

Brother Jonathan, being a merciless logician, liked to have a reason for everything. He said to himself, But why is this land worth even a dollar an acre? No one has yet put a spade in it, or has bestowed on it the least labour. Can Smith and Ricardo, and the whole string of theorists down to Proudhon, be right after all? Can land have a value independent of all labour, all service, [p262] all human intervention? Must I admit that the productive and indestructible powers of the soil ‹have value›? In that case, why should they have no value in the countries through which I have passed? And, besides, since the powers of the soil surpass so enormously the powers of men, which, as Blanqui well remarks, can never go the length of creating the phenomena of germination, why should these marvellous powers be worth no more than a dollar?

But he was not long in perceiving that this value, like all other values, is of human and social creation. The American government demanded a dollar for the concession of each acre; but, on the other hand, it undertook to guarantee to a certain extent the security of the acquirer; it had formed in a rough way a road to the neighbourhood, facilitated the transmission of letters and newspapers, etc. Service for service, said Jonathan;—the government makes me pay a dollar, but it gives me an adequate equivalent. With deference to Ricardo, I can now account naturally for the value of this land, which value would be still greater if the road were extended and improved, the post more frequent and regular, and the protection more efficacious and secure.

While Jonathan argued, he worked; for we must do him the justice to say that he always made thinking and acting keep pace.

He expended the remainder of his dollars in buildings, enclosures, clearances, trenching, draining, improving, etc.; and after having dug, laboured, sowed, harrowed, reaped, at length came the time to dispose of his crop. “Now I shall see,” said Jonathan, still occupied with the problem of value, “if in becoming a landed proprietor I have transformed myself into a monopolist, a privileged aristocrat, a plunderer of my neighbour, an engrosser of the bounties of divine Providence.”

He carried his grain to market, and began to talk with a Yankee:—Friend, said he, how much will you give me for this Indian corn?

The current price, replied the other.

The current price! but will that yield me anything beyond the interest of my capital and the wages of my labour?

I am a merchant, said the Yankee, and I know that I must content myself with the recompense of my present and former labour.

And I was content with it when I was a mere drawer of water, replied the other, but now I am a landed proprietor. The English and French Economists have assured me that in that character I [p263] ought, over and above the double remuneration you point at, to derive a profit from the ‹productive and indestructible powers of the soil›, and levy a tax on the gifts of God.

The gifts of God belong to all, said the merchant. I avail myself of the ‹productive power› of the wind for propelling my ships, but I make no one pay for it.

Still, as far as I am concerned, I expect that you will pay me something for these powers, in order that Messieurs Senior, Considérant, and Proudhon, should not call me a monopolist and usurper for nothing. If I am to have the disgrace, I may at least have the profit, of a monopolist.

In that case, friend, I must bid you good morning. To obtain the maize I am in quest of, I must apply to other proprietors, and if I find them of your mind, I shall cultivate it for myself.

Jonathan then understood the truth, that, under the empire of freedom, a man cannot be a monopolist at pleasure. As long as there are lands in the Union to clear, said he, I can never be more than the simple setter in motion of these famous ‹productive and indestructible forces›. I shall be paid for my trouble, that is all, just as when I was a drawer of water I was paid for my own labour, and not for that of nature. I see now very clearly that the true usufructuary of the gifts of God is not the man who raises the corn, but the man who consumes it.

Some years afterwards, another enterprise having engaged the attention of Jonathan, he set about finding a tenant for his land. The dialogue which took place between the two contracting parties was curious, and would throw much light on the subject under consideration were I to give it entire.

Here is part of it:

‹Proprietor.› What! you would give me no greater rent than the interest, at the current rate, of the capital I have actually laid out?

‹Farmer.› Not a cent more.

‹Proprietor.› Why so, pray?

‹Farmer.› Just for this reason, that, with the outlay of an equal capital, I can put as much land in as good condition as yours.

‹Proprietor.› That seems conclusive. But consider that when you become my tenant, it is not only my capital which will work for you, but also ‹the productive and indestructible powers of the soil›. You will have enlisted in your service the marvellous influences of the sun and the moon, of affinity and electricity. Am I to give you all these things for nothing?

‹Farmer.› Why not, since they cost you nothing, and since you derive nothing from them, any more than I do? [p264]

‹Proprietor.› Derive nothing from them? I derive everything from them. Zounds! without these admirable phenomena, all my industry could not raise a blade of grass.

‹Farmer.› Undoubtedly. But remember the Yankee you met at market. He would not give you a farthing for all this co-operation of nature any more than, when you were a water-carrier, the housewives of New York would give you a farthing for the admirable elaboration by means of which nature supplied the spring.

‹Proprietor.› Ricardo and Proudhon, however, . . . .

‹Farmer.› A fig for Ricardo. We must either treat on the basis which I have laid down, ‹or I shall proceed to clear land› alongside yours, where the sun and the moon will work for me gratis.

It was always the same argument, and Jonathan began to see that God had wisely arranged so as to make it difficult for man to intercept His gifts.

Disgusted with the trade of proprietor, Jonathan resolved to employ his energies in some other department, and he determined to put up his land to ‹sale›.

It is needless to say that no one would give him more for it than it cost himself. In vain he cited Ricardo, and represented the inherent value of the indestructible powers of the soil—the answer always was, “There are other lands close by;” and these few words put an extinguisher on his exactions and on his illusions.

There is, moreover, in this transaction a fact of great Economic importance, and to which little attention has been paid.

It is easy to understand that if a manufacturer desires, after ten or fifteen years, to sell his apparatus and materials, even in their new state, he will probably be forced to submit to a loss. The reason is obvious. Ten or fifteen years can scarcely elapse without considerable improvements in machinery taking place. This is the reason why the man who sends to market machinery fifteen years old cannot expect a return exactly equal to the labour he has expended; for with an equal expenditure of labour the purchaser could, owing to the progress subsequently made, procure himself machinery of improved construction—which, we may remark in passing, proves more and more clearly that value is not in proportion to labour, but to services.

Hence we may conclude that machinery and instruments of labour have a tendency to lose part of their value in consequence of the mere lapse of time, without taking into account their deterioration by use—and we may lay down this formula, that “‹one of the effects of progress is to diminish the value of all existing instruments›.” [p265]

It is clear, in fact, that the more rapid that progress is, the greater difficulty will the former instruments have in sustaining the rivalry of new and improved ones.

I shall not stop here to remark the harmony exhibited by the results of this law. What I desire you to observe at present is, that landed property no more escapes from the operation of this law than any other kind of property.

Brother Jonathan experiences this. He holds this language to the purchaser—“What I have expended on this property in permanent improvements represents a thousand days’ labour. I expect that you will, in the first place, reimburse me for these thousand days’ work, and then add something for the value which is inherent in the soil and independent of all human exertion.”

The purchaser replies:

“In the first place, I shall give you nothing for the value inherent in the soil, which is simply utility, which the adjoining property possesses as well as yours. Such native superhuman utility I can obtain gratis, which proves that it possesses no value.

“In the second place, since your books show that you have expended a thousand days’ work in bringing your land to its present state, I shall give you only 800 days’ labour; and my reason for it is, that with 800 days’ labour I can now-a-days accomplish the same improvements on the adjoining land as you have executed with 1000 days’ labour on yours. Pray consider that in the course of fifteen years the art of draining, clearing, building, sinking wells, designing farm-offices, transporting materials, has made great progress. Less labour is now required to effect each given result, and I cannot consent to give you ten for what I can get for eight, more especially as the price of grain has fallen in proportion to this progress, which is a profit neither to you nor to me, but to mankind at large.”

Thus Jonathan was left no alternative but to sell his land at a loss, or to keep it.

Undoubtedly the value of land is not affected by one circumstance exclusively. Other circumstances—such as the construction of a canal, or the erection of a town—may act in an opposite direction, and raise its value, but the improvements of which I have spoken, which are general and inevitable, always necessarily tend to depress it.

The conclusion to be deduced from all I have said is, that as long as there exists in a country abundance of land to be cleared and brought under cultivation, the proprietor, whether he cultivates, or lets, or sells it, enjoys no privilege, no monopoly, no exceptional [p266] advantage,—above all, that he levies no tax upon the gratuitous liberality of nature. How could it be so, if we suppose men to be free? Have not people who are possessed of capital and energy a perfect right to make a choice between agriculture, manufactures, commerce, fisheries, navigation, the arts, or the learned professions? Will not capital and industry always tend to those departments which give extraordinary returns? Will they not desert those which entail loss? Is this inevitable shifting and redistribution of human efforts not sufficient to establish, according to our hypothesis, an equilibrium of profit and remuneration? Do agriculturists in the United States make fortunes more rapidly than merchants, shipowners, bankers, or physicians,—as would necessarily happen if they received the wages of their labour like other people, and the recompense of nature’s work into the bargain?

Would you like to know how a proprietor even in the United States could establish for himself a monopoly? I shall try to explain it.

Suppose Jonathan to assemble all the proprietors of the United States, and hold this language to them:

“I desired to sell my crops, and I found no one who would give me a high enough price for them. I wished then to let my land, and encountered the same difficulty. I resolved to sell it, but still experienced the same disappointment. My exactions have always been met by their telling me, that ‹there is more land in the neighbourhood›; so that, horrible to say, my services are estimated by the community like the services of other people, ‹at what they are worth›, in spite of the flattering promises of theorists. They will give me nothing, absolutely nothing, for those productive and indestructible powers of the soil, for those natural agents, for the solar and lunar rays, for the rain, the wind, the dew, the frost, which I was led to believe were mine, but of which I turn out to be only the nominal proprietor. Is it not an iniquitous thing that I am remunerated only for my services, and at a rate, too, reduced by competition? You are all suffering under the same oppression, you are all alike the victims of anarchical competition. It would be no longer so, you may easily perceive, if we ‹organized› landed property, if we laid our heads together to prevent anyone henceforward from clearing a yard of American soil. In that case, population pressing, by its increase, on a nearly fixed amount of subsistence, we should be able to make our own prices and attain immense wealth, which would be a great boon for all other classes; for being rich, we should provide them with work.”

If, in consequence of this discourse, the combined proprietors [p267] seized the reins of government, and passed an act interdicting all new clearances, the consequence undoubtedly would be a temporary increase of their profits. I say temporary, for the natural laws of society would be wanting in harmony if the punishment of such a crime did not spring naturally from the crime itself. Speaking with scientific exactitude, I should not say that the new law we have supposed would impart value to the powers of the soil, or to natural agents (were this the case, the law would do harm to no one);—but I should say, that the equilibrium of services had been violently upset; that one class robbed all other classes, and that slavery had been introduced into that country.

Take another hypothesis, which indeed represents the actual state of things among the civilized nations of Europe—and suppose all the land to have passed into the domain of private property.

We are to inquire whether in that case the mass of consumers, or the ‹community›, would continue to be the gratuitous usufructuary of the productive powers of the soil, and of natural agents; whether the proprietors of land would be owners of anything else than of its ‹value›, that is to say, of their services fairly estimated according to the laws of competition; and whether, when they are recompensed for those services, they are not forced like everyone else to give the gifts of God into the bargain.

Suppose, then, the entire territory of Arkansas alienated by the government, parcelled into private domains, and subjected to culture. When Jonathan brings his grain or his land to market, can he not now take advantage of the productive power of the soil, and make it an element of value? He could no longer be met, as in the preceding case, with the overwhelming answer. “There is more uncultivated land adjacent to yours.”

This new state of things presupposes an increase of population, which may be divided into two classes: 1st, That which furnishes to the community agricultural services; 2dly, That which furnishes manufacturing, intellectual, or other services.

Now this appears to me quite evident. Labourers (other than owners of land) who wished to procure supplies of grain, being perfectly free to apply either to Jonathan or to his neighbours, or to the proprietors of adjoining states, being in circumstances even to proceed to clear lands beyond the territory of Arkansas, it would be absolutely impossible for Jonathan to impose an unjust law upon them. The very fact that lands which have no value exist elsewhere would oppose to monopoly an invincible obstacle, and we should be landed again in the preceding hypothesis. Agricultural services are subject to the law of Universal Competition, [p268] and it is quite impossible to make them pass for more than they ‹are worth›. I add, that they are worth no more (‹cæteris paribus›) than services of any other description. As the manufacturer, after charging for his time, his anxiety, his trouble, his risk, his advances, his skill (all which things constitute human service, and are represented by value), can demand no recompense for the law of gravitation, the expansibility of steam, the assistance of which he has availed himself of,—so in the same way, Jonathan can include in the value of his grain only the sum total of the personal services, anterior or recent, and not the assistance he has derived from the laws of vegetable physiology. The equilibrium of services is not impaired so long as they are freely exchanged, the one for the other, at an agreed price; and the gifts of God, of which these services are the vehicle, given on both sides into the bargain, remain in the domain of community.

It may be said, no doubt, that in point of fact the value of the soil is constantly increasing; and this is true. In proportion as population becomes more dense and the people more wealthy, and the means of communication more easy, the landed proprietor derives more advantage from his services. Is this law peculiar to him? Does the same thing not hold of all other producers? With equal labour, does not a physician, a lawyer, a singer, a painter, a day labourer, procure a greater amount of enjoyments in the nineteenth than he could in the fourth century? in Paris than in Brittany? in France than in Morocco? But is this increased enjoyment obtained at the expense of any other body? That is the point. For the rest, we shall investigate still farther this law of value (using the word metonymically) of the soil, in a subsequent part of the work, when we come to consider the theory of Ricardo.

At present it is sufficient to show that Jonathan, in the case we have put, can exercise no oppression over the industrial classes, provided the exchange of services is free, and that labour can, without any legal impediment, be distributed, either in Arkansas or elsewhere, among different kinds of production. This liberty renders it impossible for the proprietors to intercept, for their own profit, the gratuitous benefits of nature.

It would no longer be the same thing if Jonathan and his brethren, availing themselves of their legislative powers, were to proscribe or shackle the liberty of trade,—were they to decree, for example, that not a grain of foreign corn should be allowed to enter the territory of Arkansas. In that case the value of services exchanged between proprietors and non-proprietors would no longer be regulated by justice. The one party could no longer control the [p269] pretensions of the other. Such a legislative measure would be as iniquitous as the one to which we have just alluded. The effect would be quite the same as if Jonathan, having carried to market a sack of corn, which in other circumstances would have sold for fifteen francs, should present a pistol at the purchaser’s head, and say, Give me three francs more, or I will blow out your brains.

This (to give the thing its right name) is ‹extortion›. ‹Brutal› or ‹legal›, the character of the transaction is the same. Brutal, as in the case of the pistol, it violates property; legal, as in the case of the prohibition, it still violates property, and repudiates, moreover, the very principle upon which property is founded. The exclusive subject of property, as we have seen, is value, and Value is the appreciation of two services freely and voluntarily exchanged. It is impossible, then, to conceive anything more directly antagonistic to the very principle of property, than that which, in the name of right, destroys the equivalence of services.

It may not be out of place to add, that laws of this description are iniquitous and injurious, whatever may be the opinions entertained by those who impose them, or by those who are oppressed by their operation. In certain countries we find the working-classes standing up for these restrictions, because they enrich the proprietors. They do not perceive that it is at their expense, and I know from experience that it is not always safe to tell them so.

Strange! that people should listen willingly to sectaries who preach Communism, which is slavery; for when a man is no longer master of his own services, he is a slave;—and that they should look askance at those who are always and everywhere the defenders of Liberty, which is the Community of the gifts of God.

We now come to the third hypothesis, which assumes that all the land capable of cultivation throughout the world has passed into the domain of individual appropriation.

We have still to do with two classes—those who possess land—and those who do not. Will the first not oppress the second? and will the latter not be always obliged to give more labour in exchange for the same amount of subsistence?

I notice this objection merely for argument’s sake, for hundreds of years must elapse before this hypothesis can become a reality.

Everything forewarns us, however, that the time must at last come when the exactions of proprietors can no longer be met by the words, There are other lands to clear.

I pray the reader to remark, that this hypothesis implies another—it implies that at the same epoch population will have reached [p270] the extreme limit of the means of subsistence which the earth can afford.

This is a new and important element in the question. It is very much as if one should put the question, What will happen when there is no longer enough of oxygen in the atmosphere to supply the lungs of a redundant population?

Whatever view we take of the principle of population, it is at least certain that population is capable of ‹increase›, nay, that it has a ‹tendency› to increase, since in point of fact it does increase. All the economic arrangements of society appear to have been organized with the previous knowledge of this tendency, and are in perfect harmony with it. The landed proprietor always endeavours to get paid for the natural agents which he has appropriated, but he is as constantly foiled in this foolish and unjust pretension by the abundance of analogous natural agents which have not been appropriated. The liberality of nature, which is comparatively indefinite, constitutes him a simple custodier. But now you drive me into a corner, by supposing a period at which this liberality reaches its limit. Men have then no longer anything to expect from that quarter. The consequence is inevitable, that the tendency of mankind to increase will be paralyzed, that the progress of population will be arrested. No economic régime can obviate this necessity. According to the hypothesis we have laid down, every increase of population would be repressed by mortality. No philanthropy, no optimism, can make us believe that the increase of human beings can continue its progression when the progressive increase of subsistence has conclusively terminated.

Here, then, we have a new order of things and the harmony of the social laws might be called in question, had they not provided for a state of matters the existence of which is possible, although very different from that which now obtains.

The difficulty we have to deal with, then, comes to this: When a ship in mid-ocean cannot reach land in less than a month, and has only a fortnight’s provisions on board, what is to be done? Clearly this, reduce the allowance of each sailor. This is not cruelty—it is prudence and justice.

In the same way, when population shall have reached the extreme limit that all the land in the world can maintain, a law which, by gentle and infallible means prevents the further multiplication of mankind, cannot be considered either harsh or unjust. Now, it is landed property still which affords us solution of the difficulty. The institution of property, by applying the stimulant of self-interest, causes the land to produce the greatest possible [p271] quantity of subsistence, and by the division of inheritances puts each family in a situation to estimate the danger to itself of an imprudent multiplication. It is very clear that any other régime—Communism, for example—would be at once a less effective spur to production, and a less powerful curb to population.

After all, it appears to me that Political Economy has discharged her duty when she has proved that the great and just law of the ‹mutuality of services› operates harmoniously, so long as human progress is not conclusively arrested. Is it not consoling to think that up to that point, and under the empire of freedom, it is not in the power of one class to oppress another? Is economic Science bound to solve this further problem: Given the tendency of mankind to multiply, what will take place when there is no longer room in the world for new inhabitants? Does God hold in reserve for that epoch some creative cataclasm, some marvellous manifestation of His almighty power? Or, as Christians, do we believe in the doctrine of the world’s destruction? These evidently are not economical problems, and there is no science which does not encounter similar difficulties. Natural philosophers know well, that all bodies which move on the surface of the earth have a tendency to descend, not to ascend. After all, a day must come when the mountains shall have filled up the valleys, when the embouchure of our rivers will be on the same level as their source, when the waters can no longer flow, etc., etc. What will happen then? Is Natural Science to cease to observe and to admire the harmony of the actual world because she cannot divine by what other harmony God will provide for a state of things far distant, no doubt, but inevitable? It seems to me that at this point the Economist, like the natural philosopher, should substitute for an exercise of curiosity an exercise of faith. He who has so marvellously arranged the medium in which we now live, knows best how to prepare another medium suitable to other circumstances.

We judge of the productiveness of the soil and of human skill by the facts of which we are witnesses. Is this a rational mode of proceeding? Then, adopting it, we may say, Since it has required six thousand years to bring a tenth part of the earth to the sorry state of cultivation in which we find it, how many hundreds of ages must elapse before its entire surface shall be converted into a garden?

Yet in this appreciation, comforting as it is, we suppose merely the more general diffusion of our present knowledge, or rather our present ignorance, of agriculture. But is this, I repeat, an [p272] admissible rule? Does not analogy tell us that an impenetrable veil conceals from us the power—the indefinite power it may be—of art? The savage who lives by the chase requires a square league of territory. What would be his surprise were he told that the pastoral life enables ten times the number of men to subsist upon the same space? The nomad shepherd would, in like manner, be quite astonished to be told that a system of triennial cultivation [‹la culture triennale›] admits easily of a population ten times greater still. Tell the peasant accustomed to this routine that the same progress will again be the result of alternate culture[60] [‹la culture alterne›], and he will not believe you. Alternate culture is for us the latest improvement—Is it the latest improvement for the human race? Let us comfort ourselves regarding the future destiny of the species—a long tract of ages is before us. At all events, let us not require Political Economy to resolve problems which are not within her domain—and let us with confidence commit the destinies of future races to the keeping of that great and good and wise Being who shall have called them into existence.

* * * * *

Let us recapitulate the ideas contained in this chapter.

These two phenomena, Utility and Value—the co-operation of nature and the co-operation of man, consequently Community and Property—are combined in the work of agriculture, as in every other department of industry.