Chapter VI: Front Matter (6)

When recourse is had to an intermediate commodity, two economic phenomena make their appearance, which we denominate ‹Sale› and ‹Purchase›. It is evident that the idea of ‹sale› and ‹purchase› is not included in direct Barter, or even in round-about Barter. When a man gives another something to drink, in consideration of receiving from him something to eat, we have a [p110] simple fact which we cannot analyze farther. Now, what we must remark in the very outset of the science is, that exchanges which are effected by means of an intermediate commodity do not lose the nature, the essence, the quality of barter—only the barter is no longer simple, but compound. To borrow the very judicious and profound observation of J. B. Say, it is a barter of ‹two factors› [troc à deux facteurs], of which the one is called ‹sale› and the other ‹purchase›—factors whose union is indispensable in order to constitute a complete barter.

In truth, this discovery of a convenient means of effecting exchanges makes no alteration in the nature either of men or of things. We have still in every case the ‹want› which determines the ‹effort›, and the ‹satisfaction› which rewards it. The Exchange is complete only when the man who has made an ‹effort› in favour of another has obtained from him an equivalent service, that is to say, ‹satisfaction›. To effect this, he ‹sells› his service for the intermediate commodity, and then with that intermediate commodity he ‹purchases› equivalent services, when the two factors bring back the transaction to simple ‹barter›.

Take the case of a physician, for instance. For many years he has devoted his time and his faculties to the study of diseases and their remedies. He has visited patients, he has prescribed for them, in a word, he has rendered ‹services›. Instead of receiving compensation from his patients in ‹direct services›, which would have constituted simple barter, he receives from them an intermediate commodity, the precious metals, wherewith he purchases the satisfactions which were the ultimate object he had in view. His patients have not furnished him with bread, wine, or other goods, but they have furnished him with the value of these. They could not have given him money unless they had themselves rendered ‹services›. As far as they are concerned, therefore, there is a balance of ‹services›, and there is also a balance as regards the physician; and could we in thought follow this circulation of services out and out, we should see that Exchange carried on by the intervention of money resolves itself into a multitude of acts of simple barter.

In the case of simple barter, ‹value› is the appreciation of two services exchanged and directly compared with each other. In the case of ‹Compound Exchange› the two services measure each other’s value, not directly, but by comparison with this mean term, this intermediate commodity, which is called Money. We shall see by-and-by what difficulties, what errors, have sprung from this complication. At present it is sufficient to remark that [p111] the intervention of this intermediate commodity makes no change whatever in the notion of ‹value›.

Only admit that exchange is at once the cause and the effect of the division of labour and the separation of employments; only admit that the separation of occupations multiplies ‹satisfactions› in proportion to ‹efforts›, for the reasons explained at the beginning of this chapter, and you will comprehend at once the services which Money has rendered to mankind, by the simple fact that it facilitates Exchanges. By means of Money, Exchange is indefinitely extended and developed. Each man casts his services into the common fund, without knowing who is to enjoy the satisfactions which they are calculated to procure. In the same way he obtains from society, not immediate services, but money with which he can afterwards purchase services, where, when, and how it may best suit him. In this way the ultimate transactions occur at various times and places, between people totally unacquainted with each other, and in the greater number of cases no one knows by whose ‹efforts› his ‹wants› will be ‹satisfied›, or to the ‹satisfaction› of whose ‹desires› his own ‹efforts› will contribute. Exchange, by the intervention of Money, resolves itself into innumerable acts of ‹barter›, of which the contracting parties themselves are ignorant.

Exchange, however, confers so great a benefit on society (is it not society itself?) that it facilitates and extends it by other means besides the introduction of money. In logical order, after Want and Satisfaction united in the same individual with isolated Effort—after simple barter—after barter ‹à deux facteurs›, or Exchange composed of ‹sale› and ‹purchase›—come other transactions, extended farther over time and space by means of credit, mortgages, bills of exchange, bank notes, etc. By means of this wondrous machinery, the result of civilisation, the improver of civilisation, and itself becoming more perfect at the same time, an exertion made at the present hour in Paris may contribute to the satisfaction and enjoyment of an unknown stranger, separated from us by oceans and centuries; and he who makes the exertion will not the less receive for it a present recompense, through the intervention of persons who advance the remuneration, and wait to be reimbursed in a distant country or at a future day. Marvellous and astonishing complication! which, when subjected to analysis, shows us finally the accomplishment of the entire economic cycle—‹want›, ‹effort›, ‹satisfaction›, taking place in each individual, according to a just law.

‹Limits of Exchange.›—The general character of Exchange is ‹to diminish the proportion which the Effort bears to the satisfaction›. Between our wants and our satisfactions ‹obstacles› are interposed, [p112] which we succeed in diminishing by the union of forces or the division of occupations, that is to say, by ‹Exchange›. But Exchange itself encounters obstacles and demands efforts. The proof of this is the immense amount of human labour which it sets in motion. The precious metals, roads, canals, railways, wheeled carriages, ships—all these things absorb a considerable portion of human activity. Observe, besides, how many men are exclusively occupied in facilitating exchanges—how many bankers, merchants, shopkeepers, brokers, carriers, sailors! This vast and costly apparatus shows us, better than any reasoning, how much efficacy there is in the power of Exchange, for why otherwise should society be encumbered with it?

Since it is the nature of Exchange to ‹save› efforts and to ‹exact› them, it is easy to understand what are its natural limits. In virtue of that motive which urges man to choose always the least of two evils, Exchange will go on extending itself indefinitely as long as the effort it exacts is less than the effort which it saves. And its extension will stop naturally when, upon the whole, the aggregate of satisfactions obtained by the division of labour becomes less, by reason of the increasing difficulties attending Exchange, than if we procured them by direct production.

Suppose the case of a small tribe. If they desire to procure themselves satisfactions they must make an effort. They may address themselves to another tribe, and say to them, “Make this effort for us, and we shall make another for you.” The stipulation may suit all parties, if, for example, the second tribe is in a situation to obtain greater assistance than the other from natural and gratuitous forces. In that case it may be able to realize the result with an effort equal to eight, while the first could only accomplish it by an effort equal to twelve. There is thus an economy equal to four for the first. But then come the cost of transport, the remuneration of intermediate agents, in a word, the effort exacted by the machinery of Exchange. This cost must, then, clearly be added to the figure eight. Exchange will continue to take place as long as the Exchange ‹itself› does not cost four. The moment it reaches that figure it will stop. It is quite unnecessary to make laws on this subject; for either the law intervenes before this level is attained, and then it is injurious—it prevents an economy of efforts—or it comes after it, and then it is useless, like an ordinance forbidding people to light their lamps at noonday.

When Exchange is thus arrested from ceasing to be advantageous, the slightest improvement in the ‹commercial apparatus› gives it a new activity. Between Orleans and Angoulême a certain [p113] number of transactions take place. These towns effect an Exchange as often as they can obtain a greater amount of enjoyments by that means than by direct production. They stop short the moment the cost of obtaining commodities by means of exchange, aggravated by the cost of effecting the exchange itself, surpasses, or reaches, that of obtaining them by means of direct production. In these circumstances, if we improve the conditions under which Exchanges are effected—if the merchants’ profits are diminished, or the means of transport facilitated—if roads and railways are made, mountains levelled, and bridges thrown over rivers—in a word, if obstacles are removed, the number of Exchanges will be increased; for men are always desirous to avail themselves of the great advantages which we have ascribed to Exchange, and to substitute gratuitous for onerous utility. The improvement of the ‹commercial apparatus›, then, is equivalent to bringing two cities locally nearer to each other. Whence it follows that bringing men physically, locally, nearer each other is equivalent to improving the conditions of exchange. This is very important. It is, in fact, the solution of the problem of population; and this is precisely the element in that great problem that Malthus has neglected. Where Malthus saw Discordance, attention to this element enables us to discover ‹Harmony›.

When men effect an exchange, it is because they succeed by that means in obtaining an equal amount of ‹satisfaction› at a less expense of ‹effort›; and the reason of this is, that on both sides services are rendered which are the means of procuring a greater proportion of what we have termed ‹gratuitous utility›.

Now, you have always a greater number of exchanges in proportion as you remove the ‹obstacles› which impede exchanges, and diminish the ‹efforts› which these exchanges exact.

And Exchange encounters fewer obstacles, and exacts fewer efforts, just in proportion as you bring men nearer each other, and mass them more together. A greater density of population, then, is accompanied by a greater proportion of ‹gratuitous utility›. That density imparts greater power to the machinery of exchange; it sets free and renders disposable a portion of human efforts; it is a cause of progress.

Now, if you please, let us leave generalities and look at facts.

Does not a street of equal length render more service in Paris than in a remote village? Is not a mile of railway of more use in the Department of the Seine than in the Department of the Landes? Is not a London merchant content with smaller profits [p114] on account of the greater amount of business which he transacts? In everything we shall discover two sets of exchange agencies at work, which although identical in kind, act very differently, according as they operate in a densely or a thinly peopled locality.

The density of population not only enables us to reap more advantage from the machinery of exchange, it permits us to improve that machinery, and increase its power. Where the population is condensed, these improvements are advantageous, because they save us more efforts than they exact; but where the population is scattered and thin-spread, they exact more efforts than they save.

On leaving the metropolis for a time, and going to reside in a small provincial town, one is astonished to find that in many instances the most ordinary ‹services› can only be obtained at great expense, and with time and difficulty.

It is not the material part of the commercial mechanism only which is turned to account and improved by the single circumstance of the density of population, but the moral part also. When men are massed together, they have more facility in dividing their employments, in uniting their powers, and in combining to found churches and schools, to provide for their common security, to establish banks and insurance companies, in a word, to procure themselves all the common enjoyments with a much smaller proportion of efforts.

We shall revert to these considerations when we come to enter on the subject of Population. At present we shall make only this remark:—

Exchange enables men to turn their faculties to better account, to economize capital, to obtain more assistance from the gratuitous agencies of nature, to increase the proportion of gratuitous to onerous utility, to diminish, consequently, the ratio of efforts to results, and to leave at their disposal a part of their forces, so that they may withdraw a greater and greater portion of them from the business of providing for their primary and more imperious wants, and devote them to procuring enjoyments of a higher and higher order.

If Exchange saves efforts, it also exacts them. It extends, and spreads, and increases, up to the point at which the effort it exacts becomes equal to the effort which it saves, and it stops there until, by the improvement of the commercial apparatus, or by the circumstance exclusively of the condensation of population, and bringing men together in masses, it again returns to the conditions which are essential to its onward and ascending march. [p115] Whence it follows that laws which limit or hamper Exchanges are always either hurtful or superfluous.

Governments which persuade themselves that nothing good can be done but through their instrumentality, refuse to acknowledge this harmonic law.

‹Exchange develops itself› «NATURALLY» ‹until it becomes more onerous than useful, and at that point it› «NATURALLY» ‹stops›.

In consequence, we find governments everywhere busying themselves in favouring or restraining trade.

In order to carry it ‹beyond› its natural limits, they set to conquering colonies and opening new markets. In order to confine it ‹within› its natural bounds, they invent all sorts of restrictions and fetters.

This intervention of Force in human transactions is the source of innumerable evils.

The Increase of this force itself is an evil to begin with; for it is very evident that the State cannot make conquests, retain distant countries under its rule, or divert the natural course of trade by the action of tariffs, without greatly increasing the number of its agents.

The Diversion of the public Force from its legitimate functions is an evil still greater than its Increase. Its rational mission was to protect Liberty and Property; and here you have it violating Liberty and Property. All just notions and principles are thus effaced from men’s minds. The moment you admit that Oppression and Spoliation are legitimate, provided they are legal—provided they interfere only by means of the Law or public Force, you find by degrees each class of citizens demanding that the interest of every other class should be sacrificed to it.

This intervention of Force in the business of Exchanges, whether it succeeds in promoting or in restraining them, cannot fail to occasion both the Loss and Displacement of labour and capital, and, of consequence, a disturbance of the natural distribution of the population. On one side, natural interests disappear, on the other, artificial interests are created, and men are forced to follow the course of these interests. It is thus we see important branches of industry established where they ought not to be. France makes sugar; England spins cotton, brought from the plains of India. Centuries of war, torrents of blood, the dissipation of vast treasures, have brought about these results, and the effect has been to substitute in Europe sickly and precarious for sound and healthy enterprises, and to open the door to commercial crises, to stoppages, to instability, and finally to Pauperism.

But I find I am anticipating. What we ought first to do is to [p116] acquaint ourselves with the free and natural development of human societies, and then investigate the Disturbances.

‹Moral Force of Exchange.›—We must repeat, at the risk of wounding modern sentimentalism, that Political Economy belongs to the region of ‹business›, and business is transacted under the influence of ‹personal interest›. In vain the puritans of socialism cry out, “This is frightful; we shall change all this.” Such declamations involve a flat contradiction. Do we make purchases on the Quai Voltaire in the name of Fraternity?

It would be to fall into another kind of declamation to attribute morality to acts determined and governed by ‹self-interest›. But a good and wise Providence may so have arranged the social order that these very acts, destitute of morality in their motives, may nevertheless tend to moral results. Is it not so in the case of labour? Now, I maintain that Exchange, whether in the incipient state of simple barter, or expanded into a vast and complicated commerce, develops in society tendencies more noble than the motive which gives rise to it.

I have certainly no wish to attribute to only one of our powers all that constitutes the grandeur, the glory, and the charm of our existence. As there are two forces in the material world—one which goes from the circumference to the centre, the other from the centre to the circumference—there are also two principles in the social world, self-interest and sympathy. It were a misfortune indeed did we fail to recognise the benefits and joys of the sympathetic principle, as manifested in friendship, love, filial piety, parental tenderness, charity, patriotism, religion, enthusiasm for the good and the beautiful. Some have maintained that the sympathetic principle is only a magnificent form of self-love, that to love others is at bottom only an intelligent way of loving ourselves. This is not the place to enter on the solution of that problem. Whether these two native energies are distinct or confounded, it is enough for us to know that, far from being antagonistic, as is constantly said, they act in combination, and concur in the realization of one and the same result, the general good.

I have established these two propositions:—

‹In a state of isolation, our wants exceed our powers;›

‹In consequence of Exchange, our powers exceed our wants.›

These propositions show the end and purpose of society. There are two others which guarantee its indefinite improvement:—

‹In a state of isolation the gain of one may be the loss of another;›

‹In consequence of Exchange, the gain of each is the gain of all.›

Is it necessary to prove that, if nature had destined man to a [p117] solitary life, the prosperity of one would have been incompatible with that of another, and the more numerous men had been, the less chance would they have had of attaining prosperity? At all events, we see clearly in what way numbers might have been injurious, and we do not see how they could have been beneficial. And then, I would ask, under what form could the principle of sympathy have manifested itself? How, or on what occasion, could it have been called forth? Could we have even comprehended it?

But men exchange, and Exchange, as we have seen, implies the separation of employments. It gives birth to professions and trades. Each man sets himself to overcome a certain class of obstacles, for the benefit of the Community. Each makes it his business to render a certain description of ‹services›. Now, a complete analysis of value demonstrates that each service ‹has value› in the first instance in proportion to its intrinsic utility, and afterwards in proportion to the wealth of those to whom it is furnished—that is to say, in proportion as the community to whom the service is rendered has a greater demand for it, and is in a better situation to pay for it. Experience shows us that the artizan, the physician, the lawyer, the merchant, the carrier, the professor, the ‹savant›, derive greater returns from their services in Paris, in London, or at New York, than in the Landes of Gascony, or the mountains of Wales, or the prairies of the Far West. And does not this confirm the truth, ‹that each man is more likely to prosper in proportion to the general prosperity of the community in which he lives›?

Of all the harmonies which have come under my observation, this is beyond doubt the most important, the finest, the most decisive, the most suggestive. It sums up and includes all the others. This is why I can give only a very incomplete demonstration of it in this place. The whole scope and spirit of this work will establish it; and I shall deem it a fortunate thing if its probability at least is made so apparent as to induce the reader to convince himself of its truth by farther inquiry and reflection.

For it is beyond question that on this turns our decision between natural and artificial Organizations—that on this, and this alone, hangs the solution of the Social Problem. If the prosperity of all be the condition of the prosperity of each, then we can repose with confidence not only on the economic power of free trade, but on its moral force. If men only understood their true interests, restrictions, mercantile jealousies, commercial wars, monopolies, would go down under the influence of public opinion; [p118] and before soliciting the interposition of government in any case, the question would be, not “How am ‹I› to be benefited by it?” but “What advantage is likely to result from it to the community?” This last question, I grant, is sometimes elicited by the principle of sympathy; but let men be once enlightened, and it will be called forth by Self-interest. Then we shall be enabled to say with truth that the two motive principles of our nature tend towards the same result—the General Good; and it will be impossible to deny Moral Power to self-interest, and the transactions which spring from it, as far at least as their effects are concerned.

Consider the relations of man to man, family to family, province to province, nation to nation, hemisphere to hemisphere, capitalist to labourer, the man of property to the man of no property,—it seems evident to me that it is impossible to resolve the social problem from any one of these points of view, or even to enter upon its solution, before choosing between these two maxims:—

‹The profit of one is the loss of another;›

‹The profit of one is the gain of another.›

For if nature has arranged matters so that antagonism is the law of free transactions, our only resource is to vanquish nature and stifle Freedom. If, on the other hand, these free transactions are harmonious, that is to say, if they tend to ameliorate and equalize the conditions of men, our efforts must be confined to allowing nature to act, and maintaining the rights of human Liberty.

This is the reason why I conjure the young people to whom this work is dedicated to scrutinize with care the formulas which it lays down, and to analyze the peculiar nature and effects of Exchange. I hope yet to find at least one among them who will be able to demonstrate rigorously this proposition: “‹The good of each tends to the good of all, as the good of all tends to the good of each›;” and who will, moreover, be able to impress this truth upon men’s minds by rendering the proof of it simple, lucid, and irrefragable. The man who does this will have resolved the social problem, and be the benefactor of the human race.

Depend upon it, that according as this axiom is true or false, the natural laws of society are harmonious or antagonistic; and that according as they are harmonious or antagonistic, it is our interest to conform to them or to deviate from them. Were it once thoroughly demonstrated, then, that under the empire of freedom men’s interests harmonize and favour each other, all the efforts which we now see governments making to disturb the [p119] action of these natural social laws we should see directed to giving them force, or rather, no efforts whatever would then be necessary, and all they would have to do would be to abstain from interfering. In what does the restraining action of governments consist? We may infer it from the design they have in view. What is that design? To remedy the inequality which is supposed to spring from Liberty. Now, there is only one way of re-establishing the equilibrium, namely, ‹to take from one in order to give to another›. Such, in fact, is the mission which governments have arrogated to themselves, or have received; and it is a rigorous consequence of the formula, that ‹the gain of one is the loss of another›. If that axiom be true, Force must repair the evils of Liberty. Thus governments, instituted for the protection of liberty and property, have undertaken the task of violating liberty and property in every shape; and they have done so consistently, if it be in liberty and property that the germ and principle of evil reside. Hence we see them everywhere engaged in the artificial displacement and redistribution of labour, capital, and responsibility.

On the other hand, an incalculable amount of intellectual force is thrown away in the pursuit of artificial social organizations. ‹To take from one in order to give to another›, to violate both liberty and property, is a very simple design, but the means of carrying out that design may be varied to infinity. Hence arise multitudes of systems, which strike the producing classes with terror, since from the very nature of the object they have in view, they menace all existing interests.

Thus arbitrary and complex systems of government, the negation of liberty and property, the antagonism of classes and nations, all these are logically included in the axiom, that ‹the gain of one is the loss of another›. And, for the same reason, simplicity in government, respect for individual dignity, freedom of labour and exchange, peace among nations, security for person and property, are all contained and shut up in this truth—Interests are harmonious. They are so, however, only on one condition, which is, that this truth should be generally admitted.

But it is very far from being so. On reading what I have said on this subject many people will be led to say, You break through an open door. Who ever thought of contesting seriously the superiority of Exchange to Isolation? In what book, unless indeed in the works of Rousseau, have you encountered this strange paradox?

Those who stop me with this reflection forget only two things, two [p120] symptoms, or rather two aspects of modern society, the doctrines with which theorists inundate us, and the practice which governments impose on us. It is quite impossible that the harmony of interests can be universally recognised, since, on the one hand, public force is constantly engaged in interfering to disturb natural combinations, while, on the other, the great complaint which is made against the ruling power is, that it does not interfere enough.

The question is this, Are the evils (I do not speak here of evils which arise from our native infirmity)—are the evils to which society is subject imputable to the action of natural social laws, or to our disturbance of that action?

Now, here we have two co-existent facts, Evil,—and Public Force, engaged to counteract the natural social laws. Is the first of these facts the consequence of the second? For my own part, I believe so; I should even say, I am certain of it. But at the same time I can attest this, that in proportion as evil is developed, governments invariably seek for a remedy in new disturbances of the natural laws, and theorists reproach them with not going far enough. Am I not thence entitled to conclude that they have but little confidence in these laws?

Undoubtedly, if the question is between Isolation and Exchange we are at one. But if the question be between free and compulsory exchange, does the same thing hold? Is there nothing forced, factitious, restrained, constrained, in France, in the manner in which services which have relation to trade, to credit, to conveyances, to the arts, to education, to religion, are exchanged? Are labour and capital distributed naturally between agriculture and manufactures? When existing interests are disturbed, are they allowed of their own accord to return to their natural channels? Do we not encounter trammels and obstacles on all sides? Are there not a hundred professions which are interdicted to the majority of the people? Is the Roman-catholic not ‹forced› to pay for the services of the Jewish Rabbi, and the Jew for the services of the Catholic priest? Is there a single man in France who has received the education which his parents would have given him had they been free? Are not our minds, our manners, our ideas, our employments, fashioned under the ‹régime› of the arbitrary, or at least of the artificial? Now, I ask, whether thus to disturb the free exchange of services is not to abjure and deny the harmony of interests? On what ground am I robbed of my liberty, unless it be that it is judged hurtful to others? Is it pretended that it is injurious to myself? This would be but to add one antagonism the more. And only think! in what a situation [p121] should we find ourselves if nature had placed in each man’s heart a permanent irrepressible spring of action, urging him to injure those around him, and at the same time to injure himself?

Alas! we have tried everything—when shall we make trial of the simplest thing of all—Liberty. Liberty in all that does not offend against justice—liberty to live, advance, improve—the free exercise of our faculties—the free interchange of services. A beautiful and solemn spectacle it would have been, had the Power which sprang from the revolution of February thus addressed our citizens:—

“You have invested me with the public Force. I shall apply it exclusively to those things in which the intervention of Force is permissible, and there is but one—Justice. I shall force every one to confine himself within the bounds of right. You may work freely and as you please during the day, and sleep in peace at night. I have taken under my charge the security of person and property—that is my mission, and I will fulfil it—‹but I accept no other›. Let there then be no longer any misunderstanding between us. Henceforth you shall pay me only the light tribute which is necessary for the maintenance of order and the administration of justice. Keep in mind that henceforth every man must depend upon himself for his subsistence and advancement. Turn no longer your longing eyes to me. Ask me no longer for wealth, for employment, for credit, for education, for religion, for morality. Never forget that the mainspring of your development is in yourselves. As for me, I never act but through the intervention of force. I have nothing, absolutely nothing, but what I derive from you, and for this reason I cannot confer even the smallest advantage on one except at the expense of another. Cultivate your fields, then, manufacture and export your products, carry on trade, afford each other credit, render and receive services freely, educate your children, set them out in life, cultivate the arts, improve your minds, refine and purify your tastes and sentiments, unite, form industrial and charitable associations, join your efforts for your individual good and that of the public, follow your inclinations, fulfil your destinies by the free exercise of your powers, your ideas, and your foresight. Expect from me only two things—Liberty and Security—and depend upon it you cannot ask me for a third without losing the other two.”

I am thoroughly persuaded that if the revolution of February had proclaimed these principles we never should have had another revolution. Is it possible to conceive that citizens, left perfectly free in all other respects, would conspire to overturn a Power [p122] whose action was limited to the satisfaction of the most pressing, the most deeply felt of all our social requirements, the requirements of Justice?

But it was unfortunately impossible for the National Assembly to adopt this course, or make these sentiments heard. They were not in accordance either with the ideas of the Assembly or the expectations of the public. They would have terrified society as much as the proclamation of Communism. To be responsible to ourselves, forsooth! To trust to the State only for the maintenance of order and peace! To expect from it neither wealth nor knowledge! To be able no longer to make it responsible for our faults, our folly, our imprudence! To trust only to ourselves for the means of subsistence and physical amelioration, or moral and intellectual improvement! What on earth is to become of us? Is not society on the eve of being invaded by poverty, ignorance, error, irreligion, and perversity?

We allow that such undoubtedly would have been the fears which would have manifested themselves on all sides had the revolution of February proclaimed Liberty, that is to say, the reign of the natural laws of society. Then we were either unacquainted with these laws, or we wanted confidence in them. We could not get rid of the idea that the motives and springs of action which God has implanted in the mind of man are essentially perverse; that rectitude resides nowhere but in the views and intentions of the governing power; that the tendencies of human nature lead to disorganization, to anarchy,—in a word, we believed in the inevitable antagonism of interests.

So far was the revolution of February from displaying any tendency towards a natural organization, that never were the hopes and ideas of French society so decidedly turned to artificial combinations as at that epoch. Which of these combinations was in most favour? I really cannot very well tell. The business, in the language of the day, was to make experiments—‹Faciamus experimentum in corpore vili›. Such was their contempt for individuality, so thoroughly did they assimilate human nature to inert matter, that they talked of making social experiments with men, just as we make chemical experiments with acids and alkalies. The first tentative was begun at the Luxembourg, we know with what success. Erelong the Constituent Assembly instituted a Committee of Labour, in which a thousand social schemes were engulfed and swallowed up. A Fourierist representative seriously demanded lands and money (he would soon have asked for men also) to enable him to manipulate his model society. Another [p123] ‹Egalitaire› representative offered his recipe, which was rejected. The manufacturers were more lucky, and succeeded in maintaining theirs. In the meantime, the Legislative Assembly named a commission to organize “assistance.”

Now, what strikes us with surprise in all this is, that the Ruling Power, for the sake of its own stability, did not from time to time thus enter its protest:—“You are habituating thirty-six millions of men to regard the State as responsible for all the good or evil that may befall them in this world. At this rate, Government is impossible.”

At any rate, if these various social inventions, dignified with the high sounding title of organization, differ from each other in their manner of proceeding, they are all founded on the same principle: Take from one to give to another. Now such a principle clearly could not meet with such universal sympathy from the people, unless they were thoroughly convinced that men’s interests are naturally antagonistic, and that the tendencies of human nature are essentially perverse.

To take from one to give to another! I know well that things have gone on in this way for a long time. But before you set yourselves to imagine various means of realizing this whimsical principle for the remedy of existing distress, would it not be well to inquire whether that distress has not proceeded from the very fact that this principle in a certain form has been realized already? Before seeking a remedy in new disturbances of the natural social laws, should you not make sure that such perturbations do not themselves constitute the very evil from which society suffers, and which it is your object to cure?

To take from one in order to give to another! Just allow me to mark here the danger and the absurdity, in an economical point of view, of this so-called ‹social› aspiration, which, fermenting among the masses of our population, broke forth with so terrific a force in the revolution of February.[27]

Where society consists of several grades, we are apt to think that people of the highest rank enjoy Privileges or Monopolies at the expense of all the other members of the community. This is odious, but it is not absurd.

The second grade, the class immediately below the first, will not fail to attack and batter down monopolies; and, with the assistance of the masses, they will succeed sooner or later in bringing about a Revolution. In that case, power passes into their hands, and they still think that power implies Monopoly. [p124] This is still odious, but it is not absurd, at least it is not impracticable; for Monopolies are possible as long as there is, below the grade which enjoys them, a lower stratum—namely, the public at large, which supports and feeds them. If the third and fourth grade succeed, in their turn, in effecting a revolution, they will, if they can, so arrange as to make the most of the masses, by means of privileges or monopolies skilfully combined. But then the masses, emaciated, ground down, trampled upon, must also have their revolution. Why? What are they going to do? You think, perhaps, that they are going to abolish all monopolies and privileges, and to inaugurate the reign of universal justice; that they are about to exclaim—away with restrictions—away with shackles and trammels—away with monopolies—away with Government interferences for the profit of certain classes; begone taxes and grinding impositions; down with political and diplomatic intrigues? Not at all. They have quite another aim. They become their own solicitors, and in their turn demand to be ‹privileged›! The public at large, imitating their superiors, ask for monopolies! They urge their right to employment, their right to credit, their right to education, their right to assistance! But at whose expense? They are easy on that score. They feel only that, if they are ensured employment, credit, education for their children, repose for their old days, and all gratis, they will be exceedingly happy; and, truly, no one disputes it. But is it possible? Alas! no; and this is the reason why I say that here the odious disappears, and the absurd has reached its climax.

Monopolies to the masses! Good people, reflect a little on the vicious circle in which you are placing yourselves. Monopoly implies some one to enjoy it, and some one to pay for it. We can understand a privileged man, or a privileged class, but not a privileged people. Is there below you a still lower stratum of society upon which you can throw back the burden? Will you never comprehend the whimsical mystification of which you are the dupes? Will you never understand that the state can give you nothing with the one hand but what it has taken from you with the other? that, far from there being for you in this combination any possible increase of prosperity, the final result of the operation must be an arbitrary Government, more vexatious, more exacting, more uncertain, more expensive;—heavier taxes,—more injustice, more offensive favouritism,—liberty more restrained,—power thrown away,—occupations, labour, and capital displaced,—covetousness excited,—discontent provoked,—and individual energy extinguished? [p125]

The upper classes have got alarmed, and not without reason, at this unhappy disposition of the masses. They see in it the germ of incessant revolutions; for what Government can hold together which has ventured to say—“I am in possession of force, and I will employ it to support everybody at the expense of everybody? I undertake to become responsible for the general happiness.” But is not the alarm which has seized these classes a just and merited punishment? Have they not themselves set the people the fatal example of that grasping disposition of which they now complain? Have they not had their own eyes perpetually turned to the treasury? Have they ever failed to secure some monopoly, some privilege, great or small, to manufactures, to banks, to mines, to landed property, to the arts, even to the means of diversion, to the ballet, to the opera, to everything and everybody, in short; except to the industry of the people—to manual labour? Have they not multiplied beyond bounds public employments, in order to increase, at the expense of the people, their own resources? and is there at this day a single head of a family in France who is not on the outlook for a ‹place› for his son? Have they ever endeavoured to get rid of any one of the acknowledged inequalities of taxation? Have they not for a long time turned to account everything, even the electoral franchise? And yet they are astonished and horrified that the people should adopt the same course. When the spirit of mendicity has so long infected the wealthy orders, how can we suppose that it will not penetrate to the heart of the suffering masses?

However, a great revolution has taken place. Political power, the power of making the laws, the disposal of the public force, has passed virtually, if not yet in fact, into the hands of the people along with universal suffrage. Thus the people, who have proposed the problem for solution, will be called upon to solve it themselves: and woe to the country, if, following the example which has been set them, they seek its solution in Privilege, which is always an invasion of another’s rights. They will find themselves mistaken, and the mistake will bring with it a great lesson; for if it be possible to violate the rights of the many for the benefit of the few, how can we violate the rights of all for the benefit of all? But at what cost will this lesson be taught us? And, in order to obviate so frightful a danger, what ought the upper classes to do? Two things—renounce all privileges and monopolies themselves, and enlighten the masses, for there are only two things which can save society—Justice and Knowledge. They ought to inquire with earnestness whether they do not enjoy [p126] some monopoly or other, in order that they may renounce it—whether they do not profit by some artificial inequalities, in order that they may efface them—whether Pauperism is not in some measure attributable to a disturbance of the natural social laws, in order that they may put an end to it. They should be able to hold out their hands to the people, and say to them, These hands are full, but they are clean. Is this what they actually do? If I am not very much mistaken, they do just the reverse. They begin by guarding their monopolies, and we have seen them even turning the revolution to profit by attempting to extend these monopolies. After having deprived themselves of even the possibility of speaking the truth and appealing to principles, they endeavour to vindicate their consistency by engaging to treat the people as they have treated themselves, and dazzle them with the bait of Privilege. Only, they think themselves very knowing in conceding at present only a small privilege, the right to “assistance,” in the hope of diverting them from demanding a greater one—the right to employment. They do not perceive that to extend and systematize more and more the maxim, “Take from one to give to another,” is only to strengthen the illusion which creates difficulties for the present and dangers for the future.

We must not exaggerate, however. When the superior classes seek in privilege a remedy for the evils which privilege has caused, they are sincere, and act, I am convinced, rather from ignorance than from any desire to commit injustice. It is an irreparable misfortune that the governments which have succeeded each other in France have invariably discouraged the teaching of Political Economy. And it is a still greater misfortune that University Education fills all our heads with Roman prejudices; in other words, with all that is repugnant to social truth. This is what leads the upper classes astray. It is the fashion at present to declaim against these classes. For my own part, I believe that at no period have their intentions been more benevolent. I believe that they ardently desire to solve the social Problem. I believe that they would do more than renounce their privileges,—that they would sacrifice willingly, in works of charity, a part of the property they have acquired, if by that means they were satisfied that an end could be put to the sufferings of the working classes. It may be said, no doubt, that they are actuated by interest or fear, and that it is no great generosity to abandon a part of their fortune to save the remainder,—that it is, in fact, but the vulgar prudence of a man who insures his property against fire. But let us not thus calumniate human nature. Why should we refuse to [p127] recognise a motive less egotistical? Is it not very natural that the democratic sentiments which prevail in our country should render men alive to the sufferings of their brethren? But whatever may be the dominant sentiment, it cannot be denied that everything by which public opinion is influenced—philosophy, literature, poetry, the drama, the pulpit, the tribune, the daily press,—all these organs of opinion reveal not only a desire, but an ardent longing, on the part of the wealthier classes to resolve the great problem. Why, then, is there no movement on the part of our Legislative Assemblies? Because they are ignorant. Political Economy proposes to them this solution:—«Public Justice»,—«Private Charity». But they go off upon a wrong scent, and, obeying socialist influences, without being aware of the fact, they give charity a place in the statute-book, thereby banishing justice from it, and destroying by the same act private charity, which is ever prompt to recede before a compulsory poor-rate.

Why, then, do our legislators thus run counter to all sound notions? Why do they not leave things in their proper place,—Sympathy in its natural domain, which is Liberty,—Justice in its own, which is Law? Why do they not leave law to do its own exclusive work in furthering justice? Is it that they have no love of justice? No; it is that they have no confidence in it. Justice is Liberty and Property. But they are socialists without knowing it; and for the progressive diminution of poverty, and the indefinite expansion of wealth, let them say what they will, they have no faith either in liberty or property, nor, consequently, in justice. This is why we see them, in the sincerity of their hearts, seeking the realization of what is Good by the perpetual violation of what is Right.

‹Natural social laws› are the phenomena, taken in the aggregate, and considered in reference both to their motives and their results, which govern the transactions of men in a state of freedom.

That being granted, the question is, Are we to allow these laws to act, or are we to hinder them from acting?

The question, in fact, comes to this:

Are we to leave every man master of his liberty and property, his right to produce, and exchange his produce, as he chooses, whether to his benefit or detriment; or are we to interfere by means of law, which is Force, for the protection of these rights? Or, can we hope to secure a greater amount of social happiness by violating liberty and property, by interfering with and regulating labour, by disturbing exchanges, and shifting responsibility?

In other words: [p128]

Is Law to enforce rigorous Justice, or to be the instrument of Spoliation, organized with more or less adroitness?

It is very evident that the solution of these questions depends upon our knowledge and study of the natural laws of society. We cannot pronounce conclusively upon them until we have discovered whether property, liberty, the combination of services freely and voluntarily exchanged, lead to improvement and material prosperity, as the economists believe, or to ruin and degradation, as the socialists affirm.

In the first case, social evils must be attributed to disturbances of the natural laws, to legal violations of liberty and property, and these disturbances and violations must be put an end to. In that case Political Economy is right.

In the second case, it may be said, we have not yet had enough of Government interference. Forced and factitious combinations have not yet sufficiently superseded free and natural combinations. These three fatal principles, Justice, Liberty, Property, have still too powerful a sway. Our legislators have not yet attacked them boldly enough. We have not yet acted sufficiently on the maxim of ‹taking from one in order to give to another›. Hitherto we have taken from the many to give to the few. Now, we must take from all to give to all. In a word, we must organize Spoliation, and from Socialism must come our salvation.[28]

‹Fatal Illusions which spring from Exchange.›—Exchange is society. Consequently, economic truth consists in a complete view of Exchange; economic error in a partial view of it.

If man did not exchange, each economic phenomenon would be accomplished in a single individual, and it would be very easy to discover from observation its good and its bad effects.

But Exchange has given rise to the separation of occupations, or, in other words, to the establishment of trades and professions. Each service (or each product) has, then, two relations, one with the person who furnishes it, and the other with the person who receives it.

Undoubtedly, at the end of the evolution, man in a social state, like man in a state of isolation, is at once producer and consumer, but we must see clearly the difference. Man in an isolated state is always the producer of the very thing he consumes, which almost never happens with man in the social state. This is an unquestionable fact, which every one can verify for himself. It [p129] follows, moreover, from this that the social state consists in an interchange of services.

We are all producers and consumers, not of the thing, but of the value, that we have produced. In exchanging commodities we remain always possessed of their value.

It is this which gives rise to all economic errors and illusions, and it may not be useless to mark here the progress of the human mind in this respect.

We give the general name of ‹obstacle› to everything which, being interposed between our wants and our satisfactions, calls for the intervention of our efforts.

The relations of these four elements—want, obstacle, effort, satisfaction—are quite apparent, and easily understood in isolated man. We should never think of saying—

“It is a pity that Robinson Crusoe did not encounter more ‹obstacles›, for in that case he would have had more opportunities of exerting his energies—he would have been richer.”

“It is unfortunate that the sea should have cast upon the shore of the desert island useful articles, such as timber, provisions, arms, books; for this deprived him of the opportunity of exerting himself—it made him less rich.”

“It is to be regretted that Robinson invented nets to take fish and game, for that diminished by so much his efforts in relation to each given result—it made him less rich.”

“It is a pity that Robinson was not more frequently sick, for then he must have set to doctoring himself, which is labour; and as all wealth comes from labour, he would have been more wealthy on that account.”

“It is a pity that he succeeded in extinguishing the fire which threatened his cabin. He lost thus a precious opportunity of work—and was so much the poorer.”

“It is unfortunate that in the desert island the soil was not more ungrateful, the spring at a greater distance, the day shorter. For then Robinson must have exerted himself more to procure food, drink, and light, and he would have been so much the richer by the exertion.”

I say that no one in his senses would ever think of putting forth as oracles of truth propositions so absurd. It would be too glaring an evidence that wealth does not depend upon the intensity of the effort in proportion to the satisfaction obtained, and that it is just the contrary which is true. We should then understand that wealth consists neither in the Want, nor in the Obstacle, nor in the Effort, but in the Satisfaction; and we should not hesitate to [p130] acknowledge that, although Robinson Crusoe was both producer and consumer, yet, in order to judge of his progress, we must have reference, not to his labour, but to its results. In short, in laying down the axiom that “the paramount interest is that of the consumer,” we believe we are merely giving utterance to a ‹truism›.

Happy will it be for nations when they discern clearly how and why what we have found true or false of man in a state of isolation is equally true or false of man in his social state!