Chapter IX: Front Matter (9)

If, then, we wish to compare two social states with each other, we cannot have recourse to a ‹standard of value›, and for two reasons, the one as logical as the other—first, because there is none; and, secondly, because, if there were, it would give a wrong answer to our question, neglecting, as it must, a considerable and progressive element in human prosperity—gratuitous utility.

What we must do, on the contrary, is to put Value altogether out of sight, particularly the consideration of money; and ask the question, What, in such and such a country, and, at such and such an epoch, is the amount of each kind of special utility, and the sum total of all utilities, which correspond to a given amount of unskilled labour? In other words, what amount of material comfort and prosperity can an unskilled workman earn as the reward of his daily toil? [p172]

We may affirm that the natural social order is harmonious, and goes on improving, if, on the one hand, the number of unskilled labours, receiving the smallest possible remuneration, continues to diminish; and if, on the other, that remuneration, measured not in value or in money, but in real satisfactions, continues constantly on the increase.[36]

The ancients have well described all the combinations of Exchange:—

‹Do ut des› (commodity against commodity), ‹Do ut facias› (commodity against service), ‹Facio ut des› (service against commodity), ‹Facio ut facias› (service against service).[37]

Seeing that products and services are thus exchanged for one another, it is quite necessary that they should have something in common, something by which they can be compared and estimated—namely, ‹Value›.

But value is always identically the same. Whether it be in the product or in the service, it has always the same origin and foundation.

This being so, we may ask, is Value originally and essentially in the ‹commodity›, and is it only by analogy that we extend the notion to the ‹service›?

Or, on the contrary, does Value reside in the service, and is it not mixed up and amalgamated with the product, simply and exclusively because the service is so?

Some people seem to think that this is a question of pure subtilty. We shall see by-and-by. At present I shall only observe, that it would be strange if, in Political Economy, a good or a bad definition of Value were a matter of indifference.

I cannot doubt that, at the outset, Political Economists thought they discovered value rather in the product, as such, than in the matter of the product. The Physiocrates [the ‹Économistes› of Quesnay’s school] attributed value exclusively to land, and stigmatized as ‹sterile› such classes as added nothing to matter,—so strictly in their eyes were ‹value› and ‹matter› bound up together.

Adam Smith ought to have discarded this idea, since he makes ‹value› flow from ‹labour›. Do not pure services, services ‹per se›, exact labour, and, consequently, do they not imply value? Near to the truth as Smith had come, he did not make himself master of it; for, besides pronouncing formally that labour, in order to possess value, must be applied to matter, to something physically [p173] tangible and capable of accumulation, we know that, like the Physiocrates, he ranked those who simply render services among the unproductive classes.

These classes, in fact, occupy a prominent position in the Wealth of Nations. But this only shows us that the author, after having given a definition, found himself straitened by it, and, consequently, that that definition is erroneous. Adam Smith would not have gained his great and just renown had he not written his magnificent chapters on Education, on the Clergy, and on Public Services, and if he had, in treating of Wealth, confined himself within the limits of his own definition. Happily, by this inconsistency, he freed himself from the fetters which his premises imposed upon him. This always happens. A man of genius who sets out with a false principle never escapes inconsistency, without which he would get deeper and deeper into error, and, far from appearing a man of genius, would show himself no longer a man of sense.

As Adam Smith advanced a step beyond the Physiocrates, Jean Baptiste Say advanced a step beyond Smith. By degrees Say was led to refer value to services, but only by way of analogy. It is in the product that he discovers true value, and nothing shows this better than his whimsical denomination of services as “immaterial products”—two words which absolutely shriek out on finding themselves side by side. Say, in the outset, agrees with Smith; for the entire theory of the master is to be found in the first ten lines of the work of the disciple.[38] But he thought and meditated on the subject for thirty years, and he made progress. He approximated more and more to the truth, without ever fully attaining it.

Moreover, we might have imagined that Say did his duty as an Economist as well by referring the value of the service to the product, as by referring the value of the product to the service, if the Socialist propaganda, founding on his own deductions, had not come to reveal to us the insufficiency and the danger of his principle.

The question I propose, then, is this:—Seeing that certain products are possessed of value, seeing that certain services are possessed of value, and seeing that value is one and identical, and can have but one origin, one foundation, one explanation,—is this origin, this explanation to be found in the product or in the service?

The reply to that question is obvious, and for this unanswerable [p174] reason, that every product which has value implies service, but every service does not necessarily imply a product.

This appears to me mathematically certain—conclusive.

A service, as such, has value, whether it assume a material form or not.

A material object has value if, in transferring it to another, we render him a service,—if not, it has no value.

Then value does not proceed from the material object to the service, but from the service to the material object.

Nor is this all. Nothing is more easily explained than this pre-eminence, this priority, given to the service over the product, so far as value is concerned. We shall immediately see that this is owing to a circumstance which might have been easily perceived, but which has not been observed, just because it is under our eyes. It is nothing else than that foresight which is natural to man, and in virtue of which, in place of limiting himself to the services which are demanded of him, he prepares himself beforehand to render those services which he foresees are likely to be demanded. It is thus that the ‹facio ut facias› transforms itself into the ‹do ut des›, without its ceasing to be the dominant fact which explains the whole transaction.

John says to Peter, I want a cup. I could make it for myself, but if you will make it for me, you will render me a service, for which I will pay you by an equivalent service.

Peter accepts the offer, and, in consequence, sets out in quest of suitable materials, mixes them, manipulates them, and, in fine, makes the article which John wants.

It is very evident that here it is the service which determines the value. The dominant word in the transaction is ‹facio›. And if, afterwards, the value is incorporated with the product, it is only because it flows from the service, which combines the labour executed by Peter with the labour saved to John.

Now, it may happen that John may make frequently the same proposal to Peter, and that other people may also make it; so that Peter can foresee with certainty the kind of services which will be demanded of him, and prepare himself for rendering them. He may say, I have acquired a certain degree of skill in making cups. Experience tells me that cups supply a want which must be satisfied, and I am therefore enabled to manufacture them beforehand.

Henceforth John says no longer to Peter, ‹facio ut facias›, but ‹facio ut des›. If he in turn has foreseen the wants of Peter, and laboured beforehand to provide for them, he can then say ‹do ut des›. [p175]

But in what respect, I ask, does this progress, which flows from human foresight, change the nature and origin of value? Does service cease to be its foundation and measure? As regards the true idea of value, what difference does it make whether Peter, before he makes the cup, waits till there is a demand for it, or, foreseeing a future demand, manufactures the article beforehand?

There is another remark which I would make here. In human life, inexperience and thoughtlessness precede experience and foresight. It is only in the course of time that men are enabled to foresee each other’s wants, and to make preparations for satisfying them. Logically, the ‹facio ut facias› must precede the ‹do ut des›. The latter is at once the fruit and the evidence of a certain amount of knowledge diffused, of experience acquired, of political security obtained, of a certain confidence in the future,—in a word, of a certain degree of civilisation. This social prescience, this faith in a future ‹demand›, which causes us to provide a present ‹supply›; this sort of intuitive acquaintance with statistics which each possesses in a greater or less degree, and which establishes a surprising equilibrium between our wants and the means of supplying them, is one of the most powerful and efficacious promoters of human improvement. To it we owe the division of labour, or at least the separation of trades and professions. To it we owe one of the advantages which men seek for with the greatest ardour, the fixity of remuneration, under the form of ‹wages› as regards labour, and ‹interest› as regards capital. To it we are indebted for the institution of credit, transactions having reference to the future, those which are designed to equalize risk, etc. It is surprising, in an Economical point of view, that this noble attribute of man, Foresight, has not been made more the subject of remark. This arises, as Rousseau has said, from the difficulty we experience in observing the medium in which we live and move, and which forms our natural atmosphere. We notice only exceptional appearances and abnormal facts, while we allow to pass unperceived those which act permanently around us, upon us, and within us, and which modify profoundly both individual men and society at large.

To return to the subject which at present engages us. It may be that human foresight, in its infinite diffusion, tends more and more to substitute the ‹do ut des› for the ‹facio ut facias›; but we must never forget that it is in the primitive and ‹necessary› form of exchange that the notion of value first makes its appearance, that this primitive form is that of reciprocal service; and that, after all, [p176] as regards exchange, the product is only a ‹service foreseen› and provided for.

But although I have shown that value is not inherent in matter, and cannot be classed among its attributes, I am far from maintaining that it does not pass from the ‹service› to the ‹product›, so as (if I may be allowed the expression) to become incorporated with it. I hope my opponents will not believe that I am pedant enough to wish to exclude from common language such phrase as these—gold ‹has value›, wheat ‹has value›, land ‹has value›. But I have a right to demand of science why this is so? and if I am answered, because gold, wheat, and land possess in themselves intrinsic ‹value›, then I think I have a right to say—“You are mistaken, and your error is dangerous. You are mistaken, for there are gold and land which are destitute of value, gold and land which have not yet had any human labour bestowed upon them. Your error is dangerous, for it leads men to regard what is simply a right to a reciprocity of services as a usurpation of the gratuitous gifts of God.”

I am quite willing, then, to acknowledge that products are possessed of value, provided you grant me that it is not essential to them, and that it attaches itself to services, and proceeds from them.

This is so true, that a very important consequence, and one which is fundamental in Political Economy, flows from it—a consequence which has not been, and indeed could not be remarked. It is this:—

‹Where value has passed from the service to the product, it undergoes in the product all the risks and chances to which it is subject in the service itself.›

It is not fixed in the product, as it would have been had it been one of its own intrinsic qualities. It is essentially variable; it may rise indefinitely, or it may fall until it disappears altogether, just as the species of service to which it owes its origin would have done.

The man who makes a cup to-day for the purpose of selling it a year hence, confers value on it, and that value is determined by that of the service—not the value which the service possesses at the present moment, but that which it will possess at the end of the year. If at the time when the cup comes to be sold such services are more in demand, the cup will be worth more, or it will be depreciated in the opposite case.

This is the reason why man is constantly stimulated to exercise foresight, in order to turn it to account. He has always in [p177] perspective a possible rise or fall of value,—a recompense for just and sagacious prevision, and chastisement when it is erroneous. And, observe, his success or failure coincides with the public good or the public detriment. If his foresight has been well directed, if he has made preparations beforehand to give society the benefit of services which are more in request, more appreciated, more efficacious, which supply more adequately wants which are deeply felt, he has contributed to diminish the scarcity, to augment the abundance, of that description of service, and to bring it within the reach of a greater number of persons at less expense. If, on the other hand, he is mistaken in his calculations for the future, he contributes, by his competition, to depress still farther those services for which there is little demand. He only effects, and at his own expense, a negative good,—he advertises the public that a certain description of wants no longer call for the exertion of much social activity, which activity must now take another direction, or go without recompense.

This remarkable fact—that ‹value›, ‹incorporated› in a product, depends on the value of the kind of service to which it owes its origin—is of the very highest importance, not only because it demonstrates more and more clearly the theory that the principle of value resides in the service, but because it explains, easily and satisfactorily, phenomena which other systems regard as abnormal and exceptional.

When once the product has been thrown upon the market of the world, do the general tendencies of society operate towards elevating or towards depressing its ‹value›? This is to ask whether the particular kind of services which have engendered this value are liable to become more or less appreciated, and better or worse remunerated. The one is as possible as the other, and it is this which opens an unlimited field to human foresight.

This we may remark at least, that the general law of beings, capable of making experiments, of acquiring information, and of rectifying mistakes, is progress. The probability, then, is, that at any given period a certain amount of time and pains will effect greater results than were effected by the same agency at an anterior period: whence we may conclude that the prevailing tendency of ‹value›, ‹incorporated› with a commodity, is to fall. If, for example, we suppose the cup which I took by way of illustration, and as a symbol of other products, to have been made many years ago, the probability is that it has undergone depreciation, inasmuch as we have at the present day more resources for the manufacture of such articles, more skill, better tools, capital [p178] obtained on easier terms, and a more extended division of labour. In this way the person who wishes to obtain the cup does not say to its possessor, Tell me the exact amount of labour (quantity and quality both taken into account) which that cup has cost you, in order that I may remunerate you accordingly. No, he says, Now-a-days, in consequence of the progress of art, I can make for myself, or procure by exchange, a similar cup at the expense of so much labour of such a quality; and that is the limit of the remuneration which I can consent to give you.

Hence it follows that all labour incorporated with commodities, in other words, all accumulated labour, all capital, has a tendency to become depreciated in presence of services naturally improvable and increasingly and progressively productive; and that, in exchanging present labour against anterior labour, the advantage is generally on the side of present labour, as it ought to be, seeing that it renders a greater amount of service.

This shows us how empty are the declamations which we hear continually directed against the value of landed property. That value differs from other values in nothing—neither in its origin, nor in its nature, nor in the general law of its slow depreciation, as compared with the labour which it originally cost.

It represents anterior services,—the clearing away of trees and stones, draining, enclosing, levelling, manuring, building: it demands the recompense of these services. But that recompense is not regulated with reference to the labour which has been actually performed. The landed proprietor does not say. “Give me in exchange for this land as much labour as it has received from me.” (But he would so express himself if, according to Adam Smith’s theory, value came from labour, and were proportional to it.) Much less does he say, as Ricardo and a number of economists suppose, “Give me first of all as much labour as this land has had bestowed upon it, and a certain amount of labour over and above, as an equivalent for the natural and inherent powers of the soil.” No, the proprietor, who represents all the possessors of the land who have preceded him, up to those who made the first clearance, is obliged, in their name, to hold this humble language:—

“We have prepared services, and what we ask is to exchange these for equivalent services. We worked hard formerly, for in our days we were not acquainted with your powerful means of execution—there were no roads—we were forced to do everything by muscular exertion. Much sweat and toil, many human lives, are buried under these furrows. But we do not expect from you [p179] labour for labour—we have no means of effecting an exchange on those terms. We are quite aware that the labour bestowed on land now-a-days, whether in this country or abroad, is much more perfect and much more productive than formerly. All that we ask, and what you clearly cannot refuse us, is that our anterior labour and the new labour shall be exchanged, not in proportion to their comparative duration and intensity, but proportionally to their results, so that we may both receive the same remuneration for the same service. By this arrangement we are losers as regards labour, seeing that three or four times more of ours than of yours is required to accomplish the same service; but we have no choice, and can no longer effect the exchange on any other terms.”

And, in point of fact, this represents the actual state of things. If we could form an exact estimate of the amount of efforts, of incessant labour, and toil, expended in bringing each acre of our land to its present state of productiveness, we should be thoroughly convinced that the man who purchases that land does not give labour for labour—at least in ninety-nine cases out of the hundred.

I add this qualification, because we must not forget that an ‹incorporated service› may gain value as well as lose it. And although the general tendency be towards depreciation, nevertheless the opposite phenomenon manifests itself sometimes, in exceptional circumstances, as well in the case of land as of anything else, and this without violating the law of justice, or affording adequate cause for the cry of monopoly.

Services always intervene to bring out the principle of value. In most cases the anterior labour probably renders a less amount of service than the new labour, but this is not an absolute law which admits of no exception. If the anterior labour renders a less amount of service than the new, as is nearly always the case, a greater quantity of the first than of the second must be thrown into the scale to establish the equiponderance, seeing that the equiponderance is regulated by services. But if it happen, as it sometimes may, that the anterior labour renders greater service than the new, the latter must make up for this by the sacrifice of quantity. [p180]

VI. WEALTH.

We have seen that in every commodity which is adapted to satisfy our wants and desires, there are two things to be considered and distinguished: what nature does, and what man does,—what is gratuitous, and what is onerous—the gift of God and the service of man—‹utility› and ‹value›. In the same commodity the one may be immense, and the other imperceptible. The former remaining invariable, the latter may be indefinitely diminished; and is diminished, in fact, as often as an ingenious process or invention enables us to obtain the same result with less effort.

One of the greatest difficulties, one of the most fertile sources of misunderstanding, controversy, and error, here presents itself to us at the very threshold of the science—

What is ‹wealth›?

Are we ‹rich› in proportion to the utilities which we have at our disposal,—that is, in proportion to the wants and desires which we have the means of satisfying? “A man is rich or poor,” says Adam Smith, “according as he possesses a greater or smaller amount of ‹useful› commodities which minister to his enjoyments.”

Are we ‹rich› in proportion to the ‹values› which we possess,—that is to say, the ‹services› which we can command? “Wealth,” says J. B. Say, “is in proportion to Value. It is great if the sum of the value of which it is composed is great—it is small if the value be small.”

The vulgar employ the word Wealth in two senses. Sometimes we hear them say—“The abundance of water is Wealth to such a country.” In this case, they are thinking only of utility. But when one wishes to reckon up his own wealth, he makes what is called an Inventory, in which only commercial Value is taken into account.

With deference to the ‹savants›, I believe that the vulgar are [p181] right for once. Wealth is either ‹actual› or ‹relative›. In the first point of view, we judge of it by our satisfactions. Mankind become richer in proportion as they acquire a greater amount of ease or material prosperity, whatever be the commodities by which it is procured. But do you wish to know what proportional share each man has in the general prosperity; in other words, his ‹relative wealth›? This is simply a relation, which value alone reveals, because value is itself a relation.

Our science has to do with the general welfare and prosperity of men, with the proportion which exists between their Efforts and their Satisfactions,—a proportion which the progressive participation of gratuitous utility in the business of production modifies advantageously. You cannot, then, exclude this element from the idea of Wealth. In a scientific point of view, actual or effective wealth is not the sum of values, but the aggregate of the utilities, gratuitous and onerous, which are attached to these values. As regards satisfactions,—that is to say, as regards actual results of wealth, we are as much enriched by the value annihilated by progress as by that which still subsists.

In the ordinary transactions of life, we cease to take utility into account, in proportion as that utility becomes ‹gratuitous› by the lowering of value. Why? because what is gratuitous is ‹common›, and what is common alters in no respect each man’s share or proportion of actual or effective wealth. We do not exchange what is common to all; and as in our every-day transactions we only require to be made acquainted with the proportion which value establishes, we take no account of anything else.

This subject gave rise to a controversy between Ricardo and J. B. Say. Ricardo gave to the word Wealth the sense of Utility—Say, that of Value. The exclusive triumph of one of these champions was impossible, since the word admits of both senses, according as we regard wealth as actual or relative.

But it is necessary to remark, and the more so on account of the great authority of Say in these matters, that if we confound ‹wealth› (in the sense of actual or effective prosperity) with ‹value›; above all, if we affirm that the one is proportional to the other, we shall be apt to give the science a wrong direction. The works of second-rate Economists, and those of the Socialists, show this but too clearly. To set out by concealing from view precisely that which forms the fairest patrimony of the human race, is an unfortunate beginning. It leads us to consider as annihilated that portion of wealth which progress renders common to all, and exposes us to the danger of falling into a ‹petitio principii›, and studying [p182] Political Economy backwards,—the ‹end›, the design, which it is our object to attain, being perpetually confounded with the ‹obstacle› which impedes our efforts.

In truth, but for the existence of obstacles, there could be no such thing as Value, which is the sign, the symptom, the witness, the proof of our native weakness. It reminds us incessantly of the decree which went forth in the beginning—“In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.” With reference to Omnipotence, the words ‹Effort›, ‹Service›, and, consequently, ‹Value›, have no meaning. As regards ourselves, we live in an atmosphere of ‹utilities›, of which utilities the greater part are gratuitous, but there are others which we can acquire only by an onerous title. Obstacles are interposed between these utilities and the wants to which they minister. We are condemned either to forego the Utility, or vanquish these obstacles by Efforts. Sweat must drop from the brow before bread can be eaten, whether the toil be undergone by ourselves or by others for our benefit.

The greater the amount of value we find existing in a country, the greater evidence we have that obstacles have been surmounted, but the greater evidence we also have that there are obstacles to surmount. Are we to go so far as to say that these obstacles constitute Wealth, because, apart from them, Value would have no existence?

We may suppose two countries. One of them possesses the means of enjoyment to a greater extent than the other with a less amount of Value, because it is favoured by nature, and it has fewer obstacles to overcome. Which is the richer?

Or, to put a stronger case, let us suppose the same people at different periods of their history. The obstacles to be overcome are the same at both periods. But, now-a-days, they surmount these obstacles with so much greater facility; they execute, for instance, the work of transport, of tillage, of manufactures, at so much less an expense of effort that values are considerably reduced. There are two courses, then, which a people in such a situation may take,—they may content themselves with the same amount of enjoyments as formerly,—progress in that case resolving itself simply into the attainment of additional leisure; and, in such circumstances, should we be authorized to say that the Wealth of the society had retrograded because it is possessed of a smaller amount of value? Or, they may devote the efforts which progress and improvement have rendered disposable to the increase and extension of their enjoyments; but should we be warranted to conclude that, because the amount of values had remained [p183] stationary, the wealth of the society had remained stationary also? It is to this result, however, that we tend if we confound the two things, ‹Riches› and ‹Value›.

Political Economists may here find themselves in a dilemma. Are we to measure wealth by Satisfactions realized, or by Values created?

Were no obstacles interposed between utilities and desires, there would be neither efforts, nor services, nor Values in our case, any more than in that of God and nature. In such circumstances, were wealth estimated by the satisfactions realized, mankind, like nature, would be in possession of infinite riches; but, if estimated by the values created, they would be deprived of wealth altogether. An economist who adopted the first view might pronounce us ‹infinitely rich›,—another, who adopted the second view, might pronounce us ‹infinitely poor›.

The infinite, it is true, is in no respect an attribute of humanity. But mankind direct their exertions to certain ends; they make efforts, they have tendencies, they gravitate towards progressive Wealth or progressive Poverty. Now, how could Economists make themselves mutually intelligible if this successive diminution of effort in relation to result, of labour to be undergone or to be remunerated; in a word, if this successive diminution of Value were considered by some of them as a progress towards Wealth, and by others as a descent towards Poverty?

Did the difficulty, indeed, concern only Economists, we might say, let them settle the matter among themselves. But legislators and governments have every day to introduce measures which exercise a serious influence on human affairs; and in what condition should we be if these measures were taken in the absence of that light which enables us to distinguish Riches from Poverty?

I affirm that the theory which defines Wealth as Value is only the glorification of Obstacles. Its syllogism is this: “Wealth is in proportion to Value, value to efforts, efforts to obstacles; ‹ergo›, wealth is in proportion to obstacles.” I affirm also that, by reason of the division of labour, which includes the case of every one who exercises a trade or profession, the illusion thus created is very difficult to be got rid of. We all of us see that the services which we render are called forth by some obstacle, some want, some suffering,—those of the physician by disease, those of the agricultural labourer by hunger, those of the manufacturer of clothing by cold, those of the carrier by distance, those of the advocate by injustice, those of the soldier by danger to his country. There is not, in fact, a single obstacle, the disappearance of which does not [p184] prove very inopportune and very troublesome to somebody, or which does not even appear fatal in a public point of view, because it seems to dry up a source of employment, of services, of values, of wealth. Very few Economists have been able to preserve themselves entirely from this illusion; and if the science shall ever succeed in dispelling it, its practical mission will have been fulfilled. For I venture to make a third affirmation—namely, that our official practice is saturated with this theory, and that when governments believe it to be their duty to favour certain classes, certain professions, or certain manufactures, they have no other mode of accomplishing their object than by setting up Obstacles, in order to give to particular branches of industry additional development, in order to enlarge artificially the circle of services to which the community is forced to have recourse,—and thus to increase Value, falsely assumed as synonymous with Wealth.

And, in fact, it is quite true that such legislation is useful to the classes which are favoured by it—they exult in it—congratulate each other upon it,—and what is the consequence? Why this, that the same favours are successively accorded to all other classes.

What more natural than to confound Utility with Value, and Value with Riches! The science has never encountered a snare which she has less suspected. For what has happened? At every step of progress the reasoning has been this: “The obstacle is diminished, then effort is lessened, then value is lessened, then utility is lessened, then wealth is lessened,—then we are the most unfortunate people in the world to have taken it into our heads to invent and exchange, to have five fingers in place of three, and two hands in place of one; and then it is necessary to engage government, which is in possession of force, to take order with this abuse.”

This Political Economy ‹à rebours›—this Political Economy read backwards—is the staple of many of our journals, and the life of legislative assemblies. It has misled the candid and philanthropic Sismondi, and we find it very logically set forth in the work of M. de Saint-Chamans.

“There are two kinds of national wealth,” he tells us. “If we have regard only to ‹useful› products with reference to their quantity, their abundance, we have to do with a species of wealth which procures enjoyments to society, and which I shall denominate ‹the Wealth of enjoyment›.

“If we regard products with reference to their exchangeable Value, or simply with reference to their value, we have to do with [p185] a species of Wealth which procures values to society, and which I call ‹the Wealth of value›.

“‹It is this last species of Wealth which forms the special subject of Political Economy, and it is with it, above all, that governments have to do.›”

This being so, how are Economists and Statesmen to proceed? The first are to point out the means of increasing this species of riches, this ‹wealth of value›; the second to set about adopting these means.

But this kind of wealth bears proportion to efforts, and efforts bear proportion to obstacles. Political Economy, then, is to teach, and Government to contrive, how to multiply obstacles. M. de Saint-Chamans does not flinch in the least from this consequence.

Does exchange facilitate our acquiring more of the ‹wealth of enjoyment› with less of the ‹wealth of value›? We must, then, counteract this tendency of exchange.[39]

Is there any portion of gratuitous Utility which we can replace by onerous Utility; for example, by prohibiting the use of a tool or a machine? We must not fail to do so; for it is very evident, he says, that if machinery augments the ‹wealth of enjoyment›, it diminishes the ‹wealth of value›. “‹Let us bless the obstacles› which the dearness and scarcity of fuel in this country has opposed to the multiplication of steam-engines.”[40]

Has nature favoured us in any particular respect? It is our misfortune; for, by that means, we are deprived of the opportunity of exerting ourselves. “I avow that I could desire to see manufactured by manual labour, forced exertion, and the sweat of the brow, things that are now produced without trouble and spontaneously.”[41]

What a misfortune, then, is it for us that we are not obliged to manufacture the water which we drink! It would have been a fine opportunity of producing the ‹wealth of value›. Happily we take our revenge upon wine. “Discover the secret of drawing wine from springs in the earth as abundantly as you draw water, and you will soon see that this fine order of things will ruin a fourth part of France.”[42]

According to the ideas which this Economist sets forth with such ‹naïveté›, there are many methods, and very simple methods too, of obliging men to create what he terms the ‹wealth of value›.

The first is to deprive them of what they have. “If taxation [p186] lays held of money where it is plentiful, to distribute it where it is scarce, it is useful, and far from being a loss, ‹it is a gain›, to the state.”[43]

The second is to dissipate what you take. “Luxury and prodigality, which are so hurtful to individual fortunes, ‹benefit› public wealth. You teach me a fine moral lesson, it may be said—I have no such pretension—my business is with Political Economy, and not with morals. You seek the means of rendering nations richer, and I preach up luxury.”[44]

A more prompt method still is to destroy the wealth which you take from the tax-payer by good sweeping wars. “If you grant me that the expenditure of prodigals is as productive as any other, and that the expenditure of governments is equally productive, . . . you will no longer be astonished at the wealth of England after so expensive a war.”[45]

But, as tending to promote the creation of this ‹Wealth of value›, all these means—taxes, luxury, wars—must hide their diminished heads before an expedient infinitely more efficacious—namely, ‹conflagration›.

“To build is a great source of wealth, because it supplies revenues to proprietors, who furnish the materials, to workmen, and to divers classes of artisans and artists. Melon cites Sir William Petty, who regards, as a ‹national profit›, the labour employed in rebuilding the streets of London after the great fire which consumed two-thirds of the city, and he estimates it (the profit!) at a million sterling per annum (in money of 1666) during four years, and this without the least injury having been done to other branches of trade. Without regarding this pecuniary estimate ‹of profit› as quite accurate,” adds M. de Saint-Chamans, “it is certain at least that this event had no detrimental effect upon the wealth of England at that period. . . . The result stated by Sir W. Petty is not impossible, seeing that the necessity of rebuilding London must have created a large amount of new revenues.”[46]

All Economists, who set out by confounding ‹wealth› with ‹value›, must infallibly arrive at the same conclusions, if they are logical; but they are not logical; for on the road of absurdity men of any common sense always sooner or later stop short. M. de Saint-Chamans seems himself to recede a little before the consequences of his principle, when it lands him in a eulogium on conflagration. We see that he hesitates, and contents himself with a negative panegyric. He should have carried out his principle to [p187] its logical conclusions, and told us roundly what he so clearly indicates.

Of all our Economists, M. de Sismondi has succumbed to the difficulty now under consideration in the manner most to be regretted. Like M. de Saint-Chamans, he set out with the idea that value forms an element of wealth; and, like him, he has built upon this datum a Political Economy ‹à rebours›, denouncing everything which tends to diminish value. Sismondi, like Saint-Chamans, exalts obstacles, proscribes machinery, anathematizes exchange, competition, and liberty, extols luxury and taxation, and arrives at length at this conclusion, that the more we possess the poorer we become.[47]

From beginning to end of his work, however, M. de Sismondi seems to have a lurking consciousness that he is mistaken, and that a dark veil may have interposed itself between his mind and the truth. He does not venture, like M. de Saint-Chamans, to announce roughly and bluntly the consequences of his principle—he hesitates, and is troubled. He asks himself sometimes if it is possible that all men from the beginning of the world have been in error, and on the road to self-destruction, in seeking to diminish the proportion which Effort bears to Satisfaction,—that is to say, ‹value›. At once the friend and the enemy of liberty, he fears it, since the abundance which depreciates value leads to universal poverty, and yet he knows not how to set about the destruction of this fatal liberty. He thus arrives at the confines of socialism and artificial organization, and insinuates that government and science should regulate and control everything. Then he sees the danger of the advice he is giving, retracts it, and ends by falling into despair, exclaiming—“Liberty leads to the abyss of poverty—Constraint is as impossible as it is useless—there is no escape.” In truth and reality, there is none, if Value be Riches; in other words, if the obstacle to prosperity be prosperity itself,—that is to say, if Evil be Good.

The latest writer, as far as I know, who has stirred this question [p188] is M. Proudhon. It made the fortune of his book, ‹Des Contradictions Économiques›. Never was there a finer opportunity of seizing a paradox by the forelock, and snapping his fingers at science. Never was there a fairer occasion of asking—“Do you see in the increase of value a good or an evil? ‹Quidquid dixeris argumentabor.›” Just think what a treat![48]

“I call upon any earnest Economist to explain to me, otherwise than by varying and repeating the question, why value diminishes in proportion as production increases, and ‹vice versa›. . . . In technical phrase, value in use and value in exchange, although necessary to each other, are in an inverse ratio to each other. . . . . Value in use and value in exchange remain, then, fatally enchained, although in their own nature they tend to exclude each other.”

“For this contradiction, which is inherent in the notion of value, no cause can be assigned, nor is any explanation of it possible. . . From the data, that man has need of a great variety of commodities, and that he must provide them by his labour, the necessary conclusion is, that there exists an antagonism between value in use and value in exchange, and from this antagonism a contradiction arises at the very threshold of Political Economy. No amount of intelligence, no agency, divine or human, can make it otherwise. In place, then, of beating about for a useless explanation, let us content ourselves with pointing out clearly the ‹necessity of the contradiction›.”

We know that the grand discovery of M. Proudhon is, that everything is at once true and false, good and bad, legitimate and illegitimate, that there exits no principle which is not self-contradictory, and that contradiction lurks not only in erroneous theories, but in the very essence of things,—“it is the pure expression of necessity, the peculiar law of existence,” etc.; so that it is inevitable, and would be incurable, rationally, but for ‹progression›, and, practically, but for the ‹Banque du Peuple›. Nature is a contradiction, liberty a contradiction, competition a contradiction, property a contradiction,—value, credit, monopoly, community, all contradictions. When M. Proudhon achieved this wonderful discovery his heart must have leaped for joy; for since contradiction is everywhere and in everything, he can never want something to gainsay, which for him is the supreme good. He said to me one day, “I should rather like to go to heaven, but I [p189] fear that everybody there will be of one mind, and I should find nobody to argue with.”

We must confess that the subject of Value gave him an excellent opportunity of indulging his taste. But, with great deference to him, the contradictions and paradoxes to which the word Value has given rise are to be found in the false theories which have been constructed, and not at all, as he would have us believe, in the nature of things.

Theorists have set out, in the first instance, by confounding Value with Utility,—that is to say, evil with good; for utility is the desired result, and value springs from the obstacle which is interposed between the desire and the result. This was their first error, and, when they perceived the consequences of it, they thought to obviate the difficulty by imagining a distinction between value in use and value in exchange—an unwieldy tautology, which had the great fault of attaching the same word—Value—to two opposite phenomena.

But if, putting aside these subtilties, we adhere strictly to facts, what do we perceive? Nothing, assuredly, but what is quite natural and consistent.

A man, we shall suppose, works exclusively for himself. If he acquire skill, if his force and intelligence are developed, if nature becomes more liberal, or if he learns how to make nature co-operate better in his work, he obtains ‹more wealth with less trouble›. Where is the contradiction, and what is there in this to excite so much wonder?

Well, then, in place of remaining an isolated being, suppose this man to have relations with his fellow-men. They exchange; and I repeat my observation,—in proportion as they acquire skill, experience, force, and intelligence,—in proportion as nature (become more liberal or brought more into subjection) lends them more efficacious co-operation, they obtain ‹more wealth with less trouble›; they have at their disposal a greater amount of gratuitous utility; in their transactions they transfer to one another a greater sum of useful results in proportion to a given amount of labour. Where, then, is the contradiction?

If, indeed, following the example of Adam Smith and his successors, you commit the error of applying the same denomination—‹value›—both to the results obtained and to the exertion made; in that case, an antinomy or contradiction will show itself. But be assured that that contradiction is not at all in the facts, but in your own erroneous explanation of those facts.

M. Proudhon ought, then, to have shaped his proposition thus: [p190] It being granted that man has need of a great variety of products, that he can only obtain them by his labour, and that he has the precious gift of educating and improving himself, nothing in the world is more natural than the sustained increase of results in relation to efforts; and there is nothing at all contradictory in a given value serving as the vehicle of a greater amount of realized utility.

Let me repeat, once more, that for man Utility is the fair side of the medal and Value the reverse. Utility has relation only to our Satisfactions, Value only with our Pains. Utility realizes our enjoyments, and is proportioned to them; Value attests our native weakness, springs from obstacles, and is proportioned to those Obstacles.

In virtue of the law of human perfectibility, gratuitous utility tends more and more to take the place of onerous utility, expressed by the word ‹value›. Such is the phenomenon, and it presents assuredly nothing contradictory.

But the question recurs—Should the word Wealth comprehend these two kinds of utility united, or only the last?

If we could form, once for all, two classes of utilities, putting on the one side all those which are gratuitous, and on the other all those which are onerous, we should form, at the same time, two classes of Wealth, which we should denominate, with M. Say, ‹Natural Wealth› and ‹Social Wealth›; or else, with M. de Saint-Chamans, the ‹Wealth of Enjoyment› and the ‹Wealth of Value›; after which, as these authors propose, we should have nothing mere to do with the first of these classes.

“Things which are accessible to all,” says M. Say, “and which everyone may enjoy at pleasure, without being forced to acquire them, and without the fear of exhausting them, such as air, water, the light of the sun, etc., are the gratuitous gifts of nature, and may be denominated ‹Natural Wealth›. As these can be neither produced nor distributed, nor consumed by us, ‹they come not within the domain of Political Economy›.

“The things which this science has to do with are things which we possess, and which have a recognised value. These we denominate ‹Social Wealth›, because they exist only among men united in society.”

“It is the ‹Wealth of Value›,” says M. de Saint-Chamans, “‹which forms the special subject of Political Economy›, and whenever in this work I mention Wealth without being more specific, I mean that description of it.”

Nearly all Economists have taken the same view. [p191]

“The most striking distinction,” says Storch, “which presents itself in the outset, is, that there are certain kinds of value which are capable of appropriation, and other kinds which are not so.[49] ‹The first alone are the subject of Political Economy›, for the analysis of the others would furnish no result worthy of the attention of the statesman.”

For my own part, I think that that portion of utility which, in the progress of society, ceases to be onerous and to possess value, but which does not on that account cease to be utility, and is about to fall into the domain of the ‹common› and ‹gratuitous›, is precisely that which should constantly attract the attention of the statesman and of the Economist. If it do not, in place of penetrating and comprehending the great results which affect and elevate the human race, the science will be left to deal with what is quite contingent and flexible—with what has a tendency to diminish, if not to disappear—with a relation merely; in a word, with Value. Without being aware of it, Economists are thus led to consider only labour, obstacles, and the interest of the producer; and, what is worse, they are led to confound the interest of the producer with the interest of the public,—that is to say, to mistake evil for good, and, under the guidance of the Sismondis and Saint-Chamans, to land at length in the Utopia of the socialists, or the ‹Système des Contradictions› of Proudhon.

And, then, is not this line of demarcation, which you attempt to draw between the two descriptions of utility, chimerical, arbitrary, and impossible? How can you thus disjoin the co-operation of nature and that of man when they combine and get mixed up everywhere, much more when the one tends constantly to replace the other, which is precisely what constitutes progress? If economical science, so dry in some respects, in other aspects elevates and fascinates the mind, it is just because it describes the laws of this association between man and nature,—it is because it shows gratuitous utility substituting itself more and more for onerous utility, enjoyments bearing a greater and greater proportion to labour and fatigue, obstacles constantly lessening, and, along with them, value; the perpetual mistakes and miscalculations of producers more than compensated by the increasing prosperity of consumers; natural wealth, ‹gratuitous› and ‹common›, coming more and more to take the place of wealth which is ‹personal› and ‹appropriated›. What! are we to exclude from Political Economy what constitutes its religious Harmony? [p192]

Air, light, water, are gratuitous, you say. True, and if we enjoyed them under their primitive form, without making them co-operate in any of our works, we might exclude them from Political Economy just as we exclude from it the possible and probable utility of comets. But observe the progress of man. At first he is able to make air, light, water, and other natural agents co-operate very imperfectly. His satisfactions were purchased by laborious personal efforts, they exacted a large amount of labour, and they were transferred to others as important ‹services›; in a word, they were possessed of great ‹value›. By degrees, this water, this air, this light, gravitation, elasticity, calorie, electricity, vegetable life, have abandoned this state of relative inactivity. They mingle more and more with our industry. They are substituted for human labour. They do for us gratuitously what labour does only for an onerous consideration. They annihilate value without diminishing our enjoyments. To speak in common language, what cost us a hundred francs, costs us only ten—what required ten days’ labour now demands only one. The whole value thus annihilated has passed from the domain of Property to that of Community. A considerable proportion of human efforts has been set free, and placed at our disposal for other enterprises; so that with equal labour, equal services, equal value, mankind have enlarged prodigiously the circle of their enjoyments; and yet you tell me that I must eliminate and banish from the science this utility, which is gratuitous and common, which alone explains progress, as well upward as forward, if I may so speak, as well in wealth and prosperity as in freedom and equality!

We may, then, legitimately attach to the word Wealth two meanings.

‹Effective Wealth›, real, and realizing satisfactions, or the aggregate of utilities which human labour, aided by the co-operation of natural agents, places within the reach of Society.

‹Relative Wealth›,—that is to say, the proportional share of each in the general Riches, a share which is determined by Value.

This Economic Harmony, then, may be thus stated:

By labour the action of man is combined with the action of nature.

Utility results from that co-operation.

Each man receives a share of the general utility proportioned to the value he has created,—that is to say, to the services he has rendered; in other words, to the utility he has himself produced.[50] [p193]

‹Morality of Wealth.›—We have just been engaged in studying wealth in an economical point of view; it may not perhaps be useless to say something here of its Moral effects.

In all ages, wealth, in a moral point of view, has been the subject of controversy. Certain philosophers and certain religionists have commanded us to despise it; others have greatly prided themselves on the golden mean, ‹aurea mediocritas›. Few, if any, have admitted as moral an ardent longing after the goods of fortune.