Political Economy - Tracy

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Repr in ts of Economic Class ics

A TREATISE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY





A

T R E A T I S EON

POLITICAL ECONOMY

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED

A SUPPLEMENT TO APRECEDING WORK ON THE UNDERSTANDING

OR, ELEMENTS OF IDEOLO GY

B Y

THE COUNT DESTUTT TRACY

TRANSLATION EDITED BY THOMAS JEFFERSON

[ 1 8 1 7 ]

REPRINTS OF ECONOMIC CLASSICS

AUGUSTUS M. KELLEY * PUBLISHERS

N E W YORK 1970



First Edition 1817

( Georgetown, D. C.: Published by Joseph Mulligan,Printed by W. A. Rind & Co., 1817 )

Reprinted 1970 by

A U G U S T U S M.K E L L E Y • P U B L I S H E R S

REPRINTS OF ECONOMIC CLASSICS

New York NewYork 10001

I S B N 0678 00656 3

L C N 67 23018

P R I N T E D INTHEU N I T E D S T A T E S OFAMERICA

by SENTRY PRESS, NEW YORK, N. Y. 10019



A TREATISE

OK

POLITICAL ECONOMY;

TO WHIC H IB P B i r i X X D

A S U P P L E M E N T T O A P R E C E D I N G W O R K O N T H E U N D E R S T A N D I N G

OR ELEMENTS OF IDEOLOG Y',

•WITH AS

ANALYTICAL TABLE,

THE FACULTY OF THE WILL.

BY THE COUNT DE STU TT TRACY,

HZKBEB 07 TUS SEJTATE AHD INSTITUTE OF FUAJiCK, ASH OF TEX AXXBICAX

r U I LOBOP HI C i L 8 0 C I X TT.

TBA5SL1TID FHOX THE C2CFUBLISIIED rBXVCH OBIGIXAL

GEORGETOWN, D . C .

PUBLISHED BY JOSXPH MILL10AV.

W . A. Riud & Cu. Printeri.



District ofColumb ia,towit:T l E it remembered, that, on the fifteenth day of March, in the forty-first year of the_ I ) Independence of the United States of America, Joseph Milligan, of the said Dis-tric t has deposited in this office the title of a Book, the righ t whereof he claims as

Proprietor, in the words following to wit:" A Treatise on Political Economy; to which is prefixed a supplen.em to a preceding; work on the" Understanding, or Elements of Ideology; with an Analytical Table, and an Introduction on•'the Faculty of the Will. By the Count Destutt Tracy, Member of the Senate, and Institute"o f France, and of the American Philosophical Society. Translated from the unpublished• French original."

In conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled " An Act for theB encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of M aps, Charts, and Books, tothe Authors and" Proprietors of such copies, during the times therein m< mioned."

G. DENEALE, Clerk of theDistrict of Columbia.



M OJVTICELLO , October 28,

Sill,

/ now return you, according to -promisef

the translation of M . Destutt Tracy1 s Treatise on

Political Econom y, which I have carefully revised

and corrected. The num erous corrections of sense

in the translation, have necessarily destroyed uni-formity of style, so that all I m ay say on that sub-

ject is that the sense of the author is every where,

now faithfully expressed. It would be difficult to

do justice, in any translation, to the style of the

original, in which no word is unnecessary, no

word can be changed for the better, and severity

of logic results in that brevity, to which we wishall science reduced. The merit of thi& work willy

I hope, place it in the hands of every reader in our

country. By diffusing sound principles of Politi-

cal Econom y, it will protect the pub lic industry

from the parasite institutions now consum ing it,

and lead us to that just and regular distribution of

the public burthens from which we have sometimes

strayed. It goes forth therefore with my hearty

prayers, that while the Review of M ontesquieu, by

the same author, is made with us the elementary

book of instruction in the principles of civil go-

vernm ent, so the present work may be in the parti-

cular branch of Political Econom y.THOMAS JEFFERSON.

M R . M I L L I G A N .





PROSPECTUS.

POLITICAL ECONOMY, in modern times, assumed

the form of a regular science, first in the hands of

the political sect in France, called the Economists.T h e y made it a branch only of a comprehensive sys -

tem, on the natural order of S ocie ties. Quesnia

first, Gournay, Le T ro sn e, Tu rgot, & Dupont do

Nem ou rs, the enlightened, philanthropic, and venera-

ble citizen now of the United States, led the way in

these developements, and gave to our enquiries the

direction they have since observed. M any soundand valuable principles, established by them, have

received the sanction of general approbation. Som e,

as in the infancy of a science, might be expected ,

have been brought into question, and have furnished

occasion for much discussion; their opinions on pro-

duction, and on the proper subjects of taxation, have

been particularly controverted; and whatever may

be the merit of their principles of taxation, it is not

wonderful they have not prevailed, not on the ques-

tioned score of correctness, but because not accepta-

ble to the people, wh ose w ill must be the supreme

la w . T ax atio n is , in fact, the most difficult func-

tion of governm ent, and that against which , their ci-

tizens are most apt to be refractory. T h e general

aim is, therefore, to adopt the mode most consonant

with the circumstances and sentiments of the coun-

try.



IV

Ad am Sm ith, first in E n g la n d , published a ration-

al and systematic wo rk on Poli tical E co no m y;adopting generally the ground of the Economists,

bu t differing on the subject before specified. T h e

system being novel, much argument and detail

seemed then necessary to establish principles which

now are assented to as soon as propo sed. H en ce

his book admitted to be able, and of the first degree

of merit, has yet been considered as prolix and tedi-ous.

In Fr an ce , Jo hn Bap tist Say has the merit of pro-

ducing a very superior work on the subject of Poli-

t ical Eco nom y. H is arrangement is luminous,

ideas clear, style perspicuous, and the who le sub-

ject brought within half the volume of Smith's

w o r k ; add to this, considerable advances in correct-

ness , and extension of principles.

T h e wo rk of Senator T ra cy , now announced,

comes forward with all the lights of his predecessors

in the science, and with the adv antag es of further

experience, more discussion and greater maturity of

subject. I t is certainly distinguished by im portan ttraits ; a cogency of logic which has never been ex-

ceeded in an y w ork , a rigorous enchainment of

ideas , and constant recurrence to it, to keep it in the

reader's view, a fearless pursuit of truth, whitherso-

ever it le ad s, and a diction so correct, tha t not a

w ord can be changed but for the w or se ; and , a s

happ ens in other case s, tha t the more a subject isund erstood, the more briefly it ma y be exp laine d,

he has reduced, not indeed all the details, but all

the elements and the system of principles, within the

compass of an 8vo. of about 400 pages ; indeed, we



might say within two thirds of that space, the one

third being taken up with preliminary pieces now tobe noticed.

M r. Tracy is the author of a Trea tise on the ele-ments of 1'leology, justly considered as a produc-tion of the first order in the science of our thinkingfaculty, or of the understanding. Considering thepresent work but as a second section to those ele-

ments under the titles of Analytical Table, Supple-ment, and Introduction, he gives in these preliminarypieces a supplement to the Elements, shews howthe present work stands on that as its basis, pre-sents a summary view of it, and, before entering onthe formation, distribution and employment of pro-perty, he investigates the question of the origin ofthe rights of property and personality, a questionnot new indeed, yet one which has not hitherto beensatisfactorily settled. These investigations are ve-ry metaphysical, profound and demonstrative, andwill give satisfaction to miuds in the habit of ab-stract speculation. Readers, however, not disposed

to enter into them, after reading the summary view,entitled "On our actions," will probably pass on atonce to the commencement of the main subject of thework, which is treated of under the following heads:

Of Society.Of Production, or the Formation of our Riches.Of Value, or the Measure of Utility.

Of Change of Form, or Fabrication.Of Change of Place, or Commerce.Of Money.Of the Distribution of our Riches.Of Population.



V I

O f tbe employment of our R ich es or Consumption.

Of Public Revenue, Expenses and Debts.Although the work now offered is but a transla-

tion, it may be considered in some degree, as the

original, that having never been pub lished in the

country in which it was written ; the author would

there have been submitted to the unpleasant alterna-

tive either of mutilating his sentiments, where they

were either free or doubtful, or of risking himselfunder the unsettled regimen of their press. A

manuscript copy communicated to a friend here has

enabled him to give it to a country which is afraid

to read nothing, and which may be trusted with any

thing, so long as its reason remains unfettered by

law.

In the translation, fidelity has been chiefly con-

sulted ; a more correct style would sometimes have

given a shade of sentiment w hich wa s not the au-

thor's, and wh ich in a work standing in the place

of the original, would have been unjust towards him.

Some Gallicisms have therefore been admitted,

where a single word gives an idea which would re-quire a whole phrase of Dictionary E n g li sh ; in-

deed, the horrors of neologism, which startle the pu-

rist, have given no alarm to the translator; where

brevity, perspicuity, and even euphony can be pro-

moted by the introduction of a new word, it is an

improvement of the language. It is thus the En gl ish

language has been brought to what it is; one half ofit having been innovations, made at different times,

from the Greek, Latin, French, and other lan-

guages—and is it the worse for these ? H ad the pre-

posterous idea of fixing the language been adopted



V l l

i i i the time of our Saxon ancestors, Pierce, Plow-

man, of Chaucer, of Spencer, the progress of ideasmust have stopped with that of the progress of the

lan gu age . On the con trary, nothing is more eviden t

than that, as we advan ce in the kno w ledg e of new

thing s, and of new com binations of old ones, w e

must have new words to express them. W e re V an

Helmont, Stahl, Scheele, to rise from the dead at

this time, they would scarcely understand one wordof their own science. W o u ld it have been better,

then, to have abandoned the science of Chemistry,

rather than adm it innovations in its terms ? W h a t a

wonderful accession of copiousness and force has the

French language attained by the innovations of the

last thirty y ear s? And what do we not owe to S ha ke -

spear for the enrichment of the language by his free

an d magical creation of w ord s? In giving a loose to

neologism, indeed uncouth words will sometimes

be offered; but the public will jud ge them , and re-

ceive or reject, as sense or sound shall suggest, and

autho rs will be approved or condem ned, according

to the use they make of this license, as they now arefrom th eir use of the prese nt vocabulary . T h e claim

of the pre sen t tran slatio n, how ever, is limited to its

duties of fidelity and justice to the sense of its origi-

nal ; adopting the author's own word only where no

term of our own lan gua ge would convey his m eaning.





A D V E R T I S E M E N T .

A T the end of ray logic I have traced the plan

of the elements of ideology, such as I conceived they

ought to be, to give a complete kn ow ledg e of our

intellectual faculties, and to deduce from that know-

ledge the first principles of all the other branches ofour kn ow ledg e, w hich can never be founded on

any other solid bas e. I t has been seen that I di-

vide these elemen ts into three sections. T h e first

is properly the history of our means of knowledge,

or of what is commonly Called our understanding.

The second is the application of this study to that

of our will and its effects, and it completes the his-tory of our faculties. T h e third is the app lication

of this kn ow ledge of our faculties to the study of

those beings which arc not ourselves, that is to say

of all the beings which surrou nd us. If the second

section is an introduction to the moral and political

sciences, the third is that to the physical and mathe-

matical; and both, preceded by a scrupulous exam-ination into the nature of our certitude and the cau-

ses of our erro rs, appe ar to me to form a respecta-

ble whole, and to compose what we ought really to

call the first philosophy. I even believe this to

have been proved in my third volume, chapter the

ninth.

If I caqnot flatter myself with the hope of bring-

ing so imp ortant a w ork to perfection, I wish at

least to contribute to it as much as is in my power;

and I hope to contribute to it , perhaps even by the



faults from which I shall not have been able to

guard myself. M y three first volumes of ideolo-gy, grammar and logic, compose the first section,

or the history of our means of knowledge.

I am now about to commence the second section

or the treatise on the will and its effects; but before

entering on this new subject I think it right to add

ye t something to that wh ich I have said on the first.

Here then will be found, under the name of a sup-plement to the first section, something further sup-

porting by some new observations my manner of

conceiving the artifice of judgment and reasoning.

I hope it will not be displeasing to the amateurs

of this research; because in condensing and bring-

ing more closely together the most important of my

logical principles, I present them under a new as-

pect, and have moreover added some considerations

on the theory of probabilities, wh ich are not with-

out interest, considering the little progress this sci-

ence has hitherto made. T hos e too who are not

curious as to the latter article, and who may be suf-

ficiently satisfied with my theory of logic and con-vinced of its justice, may save themselves the trou-

ble of reading this supplement, w hich is but a super-

abundance of proof.

Afterwards follows the treatise on the will and

its effects; the first part of which I now submit to

the public. It is to contain three. T h e first, wh ich

treats of our actions; the second, which treats of oursentiments; and the third, which treats of the man-

ner of directing our actions and our sentiments.

These three parts are very distinct in their founda-



tiou, although closely connected with one another;

and I shall be very careful not to confound them,notwithstanding the numerous relations which unite

them, and to avoid as much as possible all repeti-

tions. But it will readily be perceived that there

are general considerations which are common to

them; and that before speaking of the effects and

consequences of our willing faculty, and of the

manner of directing it, we must speak of this fa-culty itself. This will be the subject of a prelimi-

nary discourse, composed of seven chapters or pa-

ragraphs. I fear it w ill appear too abstract; and

that many readers will be impatient at being de-

tained so long in generalities which seem to retard

the moment of real entry on our subject. I can

agree that I could have abridged them. I f I have

not done it, it is because I have been well persuad-

ed that I should gain time under the appearance of

losing it.

In effect I pray that it may be considered, that

wishing really to place the moral and political sci-

ences on their true basis, a knowledge of our intel-lectual faculties, it was necessary to begin by con-

sidering our faculty or w ill under all its [aspects ;

and that this preliminary examination being once

made, almost all the principles will find themselves

established naturally, and we shall advance very

rapidly afterwards, because we shall never be obli-

ged to retrace our steps . If any one wishes to sa-tisfy himself of the advantage of this course, he has

only to commence reading the book after the preli-

minary discourse. H e will see every instant that he



XI1

has need of an incidental dissertation, to obviate the

difficulties which will have been solved before ;and so much the worse for those who should not ex-

perience this necessity, for such are capable of be-

ing persuad ed without sufficient rea son . T h e re are

but too many readers endowed with this kind of in-

dulgence ; but it is not of their suffrages I am most

am bitious. I consent then that they shall accuse me

of having said too m u c h ; but I should be verysorry if those w ho are move difficult, should be able

to accuse me of having passed over some links in

the chain of ideas . I t is especially in the commence-

ment that this fault would be most unpardonable,

for then it might lead to the most serious errors;

and it is thence tha t arise all those erroneous sys-

tems which are the more deceiving, inasmuch as thedefect is hidden in the foundation, and all that ap-

pears is consequent and we ll connected. Sh ou ld

the last reproach be urged, my only answer would

be that I have made every effort not to deserve it;

and I can at the same time protest, that I have not

sought beforehand any of those results to which 1

have been conducted, and that 1 have only followedthe thread which guided me, the series of ideas e.\

erting all my attention not to bre ak it. T h e jud g-

ment of the public will teach me w hether I have suc-

ceeded, and I will not forestall it by any other pre-

face than this simple advertisement.

M y plan, my motives, a nd my man ner of pro-

ceeding have been sufficiently explained in the pre-

ceding volumes.



ABSTRACT,

ANALYTICAL TABLE.

A D V E R T I S E M E N T .

B E F O R E commencing the second section of the elements

of Ideology, which treats of the will and its effects, I amgoing to give a supplement to the first, which embraces thehistory of our means of knowledge. Th en will come theintroduction to the treatise on the will, which presents thegeneral considerations common to the three parts of whichthis treatise is composed. Th e introduction will be followedby the first of these three parts, that which treats specially ofOur actions.

S U P P L E M E N T

To the first section of the Elements of Ideology.

I have previously reduced the whole science of logic totwo facts.

The first is that our perceptions being every thing for us,we are perfectly, completely, and necessarily sure of what-ever we actually feel.



The second is that consequently none of our jud gm en ts,

separately taken, can be erroneous : inasmuch as we see oneidea in another it is actually there; but their falsity, when ittakes place, is purely relative to anterior judgments, whichwe permit to subsist; and it consists in this, that we believethe idea in which we perceive a new element to be the sameas that we have always had under the same sign, when it isreally different, since the new element which we actuallysee there is incompatible with some of those which we havepreviously seen ; so that to avoid contradiction we must ei-the r take away the former or not admit the la tter . Fromthese two facts or principles I deduce here fourteen apho-risms or maxims, which constitute in my opinion the wholeart of logic, sudi as it proceeds from the true science of lo-gic.

According to the last of these aphorisms, which enjoins usto abstain from jud gin g while we have not sufficient da ta , I

speak of the theory of probability.The science of probability is not the same thing as the cal-culation of probability. It consists in the research of da taand in their combination. The calculation consists only inthe latter part: it may be very just, and yet lead to resultsvery false. Of this the mathematicians have not been suffi-ciently aw are. Th ey have taken it for the whole science.

Th e science of probability is not then a particular scie nce;

as a research of data it makes a part of each of the scienceson which these data depend; as a calculation of data it isan employment of the science of quantity.

The science of probability is properly the conjectural partof each of the branches of our knowledge, in some of whicUcalculation may be employed.

But it is necessary to see well what are those of which,the ideas ar e , from the ir na ture , suscep tible of shades suffi-

ciently precise and determinate to be referred to the exactdivisions of the names of num bers and of cyphers, and in orderthat in the sequel we may apply to them the rigorous lan-guage of the science of quan tities. To this again the mathe-maticians have not paid sufficient atten tion . Th ey ha re be-



X I

lieved that every thing consisted in calculation, and this has

betrayed them into frightful errors.In the state in which the science of probability is as yet, if

it be one, I have thought I should confine myself to this small

number of reflections, intended to determine well its nature,

its means, and its object.

SECOND SECTION

Elem ents of Ideology, or a treatise on the will and its effects.

INTRODUCTION.

SECTION 1.

The faculty of will is a mode and a consequence of the faculty of

perception.

W e have ju st finished the examination of our m eans ofknowledge. W e must employ them in the study of our fa-

culty of will to complete the history of our intellectua l fa-culties.

The faculty of willing produces in us the ideas of wants

and means, of riches and deprivation, of rights and duties,

of justice and injustice, which flow from the idea of proper-

ty , which is itself derived from the idea of personality. It

is necessary therefore first to examine this latter, and to ex-plain beforehand with accuracy what the faculty of willing is.

The faculty of willing is that of finding some one thingpreferable to another.

It is a mode and a consequence of the faculty of feeling.



X ll

SECTION 2.

Prom the faculty of will arise the ideas of personality and property.

The self of every one of us is for him his own sensibility.

Thus sensibility alone gives to a certain point, the idea ofpersonality.

But the mode of sensibility, called the will or willing fa-culty, can alone render this idea of personality complete ; itis then only that it can produce the idea of property as we

have it. Th e idea of property arises then solely from thefaculty of will; and moreover it arises necessarily from it, forwe cannot have an idea of self without having that of the pro-perty in all the faculties of self and in the ir effects. If itwas not thus, if there was not amongst us a natural and ne-cessary property , th ere never would have been a conventionalor artificial property.

This truth is the foundation of all economy, and of all mo-

rality ; which are in their principles but one and the samescience.

SECTION &

From the faculty of will arise all our wants and all our means.

The same intellectual acts emanating from our faculty ofwill, which cause us to acquire a distinct and complete ideaof self, and of exclusive property in all its modes, are alsothose which render us susceptible of wants, and are thesource of all our means of providing for those wants.

For 1st. Eve ry desire is a wa nt, and every want is neverbut th e need of satisfying a des ire. Desire is always in itselfa pain.

2d. W hen our sensitive system re-ac ts on our muscularsystem these desires have the property of directing our ac-tions, and thus of producing all our means.

Labour, the employment of our force, constitutes our onlytreasure and our only p o w er .



X l l l

Thus it is the faculty of will which renders us proprietorsof wants and means, of passion and action, of pain and power.

Thenc e arise the ideas of riches and deprivation.

S E C T I O N 4 .

From t he faculty of will arise also the ideas of riches and deprivation.

Whatsoever contributes, mediately or immediately, to the

satisfaction of our wants is for us a good; that is to say, athing the possession of which is a good.

To be rich is to possess these goods; to be poor is to bewithout them.

They arise all from the employment of our faculties, ofwhich they are the effect and representation.

These goods have all two values amongst us; the one istha t of the sacrifices they cost to him who produces them, the

other that of the advantages which they procure for him whohas acquired them.

The labour from which they emanate has then these twovalues.

Yes labour has these two values. The one is the sum of theobjects necessary to the satisfaction of the w ants that arise ine-vitably in an animated being during the operation of his labour.The other is the ma98 of utility resulting from this labour.

The latter value is eventual and variable.The first is natura l and necessary. It has not however an

absolute fixity; and it is this which renders very delicate alleconomical and moral calculations.

We can scarcely employ in these matters but the conside-rations drawn from the theory of limits.

S E C T I O N 5 .

From the faculty of will arise also the ideas of liberty and conttraint.

Liberty is the power of executing our will. It is our first

good. It includes them all A constraint includes all our



XIV

evils, since it is a deprivation of the power to satisfy our wanteand accomplish our desires.

All constraint is sufferance; all liberty is enjoyment. Thetotal value of the liberty of an animated being is equal tothat of all his faculties united.

It is absolutely infinite for him and without a possibleequivalent, since its entire loss imports the impossibility ofthe possession of any good.

Our sole duty is to augment our liberty and its value.The object of society is solely the fulfilment of this duty..

S E C T I O N 6 .

Finally, from the faculty of will arise our ideas of rights and duties.

Rights arise from wants, and duties from means.

Weakness in all its kinds is the source of all rights, andpower the source of all duties; or in other words of the ge-neral duty to employ it well, which comprehends all theothers.

These ideas of rights and duties are not so essentially cor-relative as is commonly said . T ha t of rights is anterior andabsolute.

An animated being by the laws of his nature has always

the right to satisfy his wants, and he has no duties but ac-cording to circumstances.

A sentient and willing being, bu t incapable of action,would have all rights and no duties.

This being supposed capable of action, and insulated fromevery other sensible being, has still the same plenitude ofrights, with the sole duty of properly directing his actionsand well employing his m eans for the most complete satisfac-

tion of his wants.Place this same being in contact with other beings who de-

velope to him their sensibility too imperfectly to enable himto form conventions with them; he has still the same rights,and his duties or rather his sole duty is only changed, so far



XV

as he must act on the will of these beings, and is under a ne-cessity to sympathise more or less with them. Such are our

relations with the brutes.Suppose this same sensible being in relation with beings

with whom he can completely communicate and form conven-tions, he has still the same rights unlimited in themselves,and the same sole duty.

These rights are not bounded, this duty is not modified bythe conventions established; but because these conventionsare so many means of exercising these rights, of fulfillingthis duty better and more fully than before.

The possibility of explaining ourselves and not agricul-ture, grammar and not Ceres, is our first legislator.

It is at the establishment of conventions that the just andunjust, properly speaking, commence.

S E C T I O N / .

Conclusion.

The general considerations jus t read begin to diffuse somelight over the subject with which we are occupied, but theyare not sufficient. W e must see more in deta il what are thenumerous resu lts of our actions ; what are the different sen-

timents which arise from our first desires, and what is thebest possible manner of directing these actions and senti-ments. Here will be found the division which I have an-nounced. I shall begin by speaking of our actions.



FIRST PART

TREATISE ON THE WILL AND ITS EFFECTS.

OF OUR ACTIONS.

CHAPTER I.

Of Society.

In the introduction to a treatise on the will it was properto indicate the generation of some general ideas which are

the necessary consequences of this faculty.It was even incumbent on us to examine summarily,

1st. W ha t are inanimate beings, tha t is to say beings nei-their sentient nor willing.

2d. AVhat Sentientbeings would be with indifference with-out will.

3d. W ha t are sentient and willing beings but insulated.

4th. Fina lly, what are sentient and willing beings like

ourselves, but placed in con tact with similar beings.It is with the latter we are now exclusively to occupy our-

selves, for man can exist only in society.The necessity of reproduction and the propensity to sym-

pathy necessarily lead him to this sta te, and his judgm entmakes him perceive its advantages.

I proceed then to speak of society.I shall consider it only with respect to economy, because

this first part concerns our actions only and not as yet oursentiments.

Under this relation society consists only in a continualsuccession of EXCHANGES, and exchange is a transaction ofsuch a nature that both contracting parties always gain by



xvii

i t . (This observation will hereafter throw gre at light on the

nature and effects of dommerce.)We cannot cast our eyes on a civilized country withoutseeing with astonishment how much th is continual successionof small advantages, unperceived but incessantly repeated,adds to the primitive power of man.

It is because this succession of changes, which constitutessociety, has three remarkable prope rties. I t produces con-

currence of force, increase and preservation of intelligence

and division of labour.The utility of these three effects is continua lly augmenting.

It. will be better perceived when We shall have seen how ourriches are formed.

C H A P T E R I I .

Of Production, or the formation of our Riches,

In the first place what ought we to understand by theword production ? W e create nothing. W e operate onlychanges of form and of place.

T o produce is to give to things an utility which they had

not before.All labour from which utility results is productive.

T ha t relative to agriculture has in this resp ect nothing par-ticular.

A farm is truly a manufactory.

A field is a real too l, or in other w ords a stock of first ma-terials.

All the laborious class is productive.

The truly sterile class is that of the idle.

M anufacturers fabricate, merchants transp ort. This is

our industry. It consists in the produc tion of utility.



XV111

CHAPTER III.

Of the measure of Utility, or of Value.

Whatever contributes to augment our enjoyments and todiminish our sufferings, is useful to us.

W e are frequently very unjust appreciators of the realutility of things.

But the measure of utility which, right or wrong, we as-eribe to a thing is the sum of the sacrifices we are disposed

to make to procure its possession.This is what is called the price of this thing, it is its real

value in relation to riches.T he mean then of enriching ourselves is to devote our-

selves to that species of labour which is most dearly paid for>whatever be its na ture.

This is true as to a nation as well as to an individual.Observe always that the conventional value, the market

price of a thing, being determined by the balance of the re-sistance of sellers and buyers, a thing without being less de-sired becomes less dear, when it is more easily produced.

Th is is the great advantage of the progress of the arts. Itcauses us to be provided for on better terms, because we areso with less trouble.

C H A P T E R I V .

Of the change of form, or of fabricating Industry, compris-

ing Agriculture.

In every species of iudustry there are three things : theo-

ry , application and execution. Hence three kinds of labour-ers ; the man of science, the undertaker, and the workman,

All are obliged to expend more or less before they can re-ceive, and especially the undertaker.



X IX

These advances are furnished by ante rior economies,

are called capitals.The man of science and the workman are regularly com-

pensated by the und er tak er ; but he has no benefit but in pro-portion to the success of his fabrication.

It is indispensable that the labors most necessary shouldbe the most moderately recompensed.

This is true most especially of those relative to agricultu-ral industry . Th is has moreover the inconvenience tha t the

agricultural und ertaker cannot m ake up for the mediocrityof his profits by the great ex tension of his business.

Acco rdingly this profession has no attractions for the rich.The proprietors of land who do not cultivate it are stran-

gers to agricultural industry . Th ey are merely lenders of

funds.They dispose of them according to the convenience of

those whom they can engage to labor them.

There are four sorts of undertakers; two with greater orsmaller means, the lessees of great and small farms j and tw oalmost without means, those who farm on shares and la-bourers.

Hence four species of cultivation essentially different.The division into great and small cu lture is insufficient

and subject to ambiguity.Agriculture then is the first of arts in relation to necessi-

ty, but not in regard to riches.I t is because our means of subsistence and our m eans of

existence are two very different things, and we are wrong toconfound them.

C H A P T E R V .

Of the change of place, or of Com mercial Industry.

Insulated man might fabricate but could not trade.

For commerce and society are one and the same thing*



XX

It alone animates industry.

It unites in the first place inhabitants of the same canton.Then the different cantons of the same country, and finallydifferent nations.

The greatest advantage of external commerce, the onlyone meriting attention, is its giving a greater developementto that which is internal.

Merchants, properly so called, facilitate commerce, but itexists before them and without them.

They give a new value to things by effecting a change ofplace, as fabricators do by a change of form.It is from this increase of vfclue that they derive their pro-

fits.Commercial industry presents the same phenomena as fa-

bricating industry; in it are likewise theory, application andexecution. Men of science, und ertak ers and wo rkm en; theseare compensated in like manner j they have analogous func-

tions and intere sts, &c. &c.

CHAP TER VI .

Of Money.

Commerce can and does exist to a certain degree withoutmoney.

The values of all those things, which have any, serve asa reciprocal measure.

The precious metals, which are one of those things, be-come soon their common measure, because they have manyadvantages for this purpose.

However they are not yet money. It is the impression ofthe sovereign which gives this quality to a piece of metal, inestablishing its weight and its fineness.

Silver money is the only true common measure.

The proportion of gold and silver vary according to timesand places.



Xxi

Copper money is a false money, useful only for small

change.It is to be desired that coins had never borne other names

than those of their weight; and that the arbitrary denomina-tions, called monies of account, such as livres, sous, deniers,&c. &c. had never been used.

But when these denominations are admitted and employ-ed in transactions, to diminish the quantity of metal towhich they answer, by an alteration of the real coins, is to

steal.And it is a theft which injures even him who commits it.A theft of greater magnitude , and still more ruino us, is

the making of paper money.

It is greater, because in tills money there is absolutely noreal value.

It is more ruinous, because by its gradu al depreciation,during all the time of its ex istence , it produces the effect

which would be produced by an infinity of successive dete-riorations of the coins.

All these iniquities are founded on the false idea that mo-ney is but a sign, while it is value and a true equivalent ofthat for which it is given.

Silver being a value, as every other useful thing, we shouldbe allowed to hire it as freely as any other thing.

Exchange, properly so called, is a simple barter of one

money for ano ther. Bank ing, or the proper office of a bank-er, consists in enabling you to receive in another city themoney which you deliver him in that in which he is.

Bankers render also other services, such as discounting,lending, &c. &c.

All these bank ers, exchangers, lend ers, discounters, & c. &c.have a great tendency to form themselves into large compa-nies under the pretex t of rendering their services on morereasonable terms, but in fact to be paid more dearly for them.

All these privileged companies, after the emission of agreat number of notes, end in obtaining authority to refusepayment at sights and thus forcibly introduce a paper mo-nev.



XX11

CHAPTER VII.

Reflections on what precedes.

Thus far I believe myself to have followed the best coursei'or the attainment of the object which I propose.

Th is not being; a trea tise expressly of political economy,but a treatise on the will, the sequel of one on the under-standing, we are not here to expect numerous details, but arigorous chain of principal propositions.

What we have seen already overturns many important er-rors.

We have a clear idea of the formation of our riches.It remains for us to speak of their distribution amongst

the members of society, and of their consumption.

C H A P T E R V I I I .

Of the distribution of our Riches amongst Individuals.

We must now consider man under the relation of the in-terests of individuals.

The species is strong and powerful, the individual is es-

sentially miserable.Property and inequality are insuperable conditions of our

nature.

Labour, even the least skilful, is a considerable propertyas long as there are lands not occupied.

It is an error in some writers to have pretended therewere non-proprietors.

Divided by many particular interests, we are all re-united

by those of proprietors and of consumers.After agriculture the other arts develope themselves.

M isery commences when they can no longer satisfy the

calls for labour, which augment.

Th e state of great ease is necessarily tra nsit or y; the fe-

cundity of the human species is the cause.



X X l l l

CHAPTER IX.

Of the multiplication of Individuals, or of Population.

Man multiplies rapidly wherever he has in abundance themeans of existence.

Population never becomes retrog rade, nor even stationary ,but because these means fail.

Amongst savages it is Soon checked, because their means

are scanty.Civilized people have more, they become more numerousin proportion as they have more or less of these means, andmake be tter use of them. But the increase of their popula-tion is arrested also.

Then there exists always as many men as can exist.Then it is also absurd to suppose they can be multiplied

otherwise than by multiplying their means of existence.

Then finally it is barbarous to wish it, since they alwaysattain the limits of possibility, beyond which they only ex-tinguish one another.

C H A P T E R X .

Consequences and developement of the two preceding Chapters.

Let us recollect first, that we all have separate interests,

and unequal means.

Secondly. That nevertheless we are all united by the com-

mon interests of proprietors and consumers.

Thirdly. That, consequently, there are not in society

classes which are constantly enemies to one another.Society divides itself into two great classes, hirelings and

employers.

This second class contains two species of men. namelv

the idle who live on their revenue.

Their means do not augment.



And the active who join their industry to the capitals

they may posse ss. Having reached a certain term thei rmeans augment bfet little.

The funds on which the stipendiaries live become there-fore with time nearly a constant quantity.

Moreover the class of hirelings receives the surplus of allthe others.

Thus the extent which that surplus can attain determinesthat of the total population of which it explains all the varia-

tions.I t follows thence tha t whatever is really useful to tike poor,

is always really useful to society at large.

As proprietors the poor have an interest, first that proper-ty be respected . Th e preservation even of that which doesnot belong to them, but from which they are remunerated isimp ortant to them . I t is ju st and useful also to leave themmasters of their labour, and of their abode.

Secon dly. Tha t wages be sufficient. I t is of importancealso to society that the poor should sot be too wretched.

Thirdly . Tha t these wages be stead y. Variations in thedifferent bran ches of ind ustry ar e an evil. Tho se in theprice of grain are a still greater one. Ag ricultural peopleare greatly exposed to the la tte r. Comm ercial people arerarely exposed to the former, except through their own fault.

As consumers the poor have an interest that fabricationshould be economical, the weans of communication easy, andcommercial relat ions num erous. The simplification of pr o -cess in the a rt s, the perfection of method are to them a benefitand not an eviL In this the ir inte res t is also that of societyin general.

After the opposition of our interests let us examine theinequality of our means.

All inequality is an evil, because it is a mean of injustice.Let us distinguish the inequality of power from inequality

of riches.Inequ ality of power is the most grievous. I t is th at which

exists among savages.



XXV

Society diminishes the inequality of power; but it aug-

ments that of riches, which carried to an extreme reprodu-ces that of power.

This inconvenience is more or less difficult to avoid, ac-cording to different circumstances. Th ence the differencein the destinies of nations.

It is this vicious circle which explains the connexion ofmany events which have been always spoken of in a mannervery vague and very unexact.

C H A P T E R X I .

Of the employm ent of o ur riches, or of Con sumption.

After having explained how our riches are formed, andhow they are distributed, it is easy to see how we use them.

Consumption is always the reverse of production.It varies however according to the species of consumers,

and the natu re of the things consumed. Firs t let us consi-der the consumers.

The consumption of the hired ought to be regarded as

made by the capitalists who employ them.These capitalists are either the idle who live on their re-venue, or the active who live on th,eir profits.

The first remunerate only sterile labour. Th eir entireconsumption is a pure loss, accordingly they cannot expendannually more than their revenue.

The others expend annually all their funds, and all thosewhich they hire of the idle capitalists; and sometimes they

expend them several times in the year.Their consumption is of two kinds.That which they make for the satisfaction of their person-

al w ants is definitive and sterile , as that of idle men.



XXVI

That which they make in their quality of industrious men.

returns to them with profit.It is with these profits they pay their personal expenses,

and the interest due to idle capitalists.

Th us they find that they pay both the hirelings whom th ey

imm ediately em ploy , and the idle proprietors and their hire -

lings; and all this returns to them by the purchases which

all those people make of their productions.

It is this wh ich con stitutes circula tion, of wh ich produc-

tive consumption is the only fund.In regard to the nature of things consumed, consumption

the mo st gradual is the m ost econom ical the most prompt $

is the most destructive.

W e see that luxury , that is to say superfluous consump-

tion , can neither accelera te circulation nor increa se its funds.

It only substitutes useless for useful expenses.

It is like inequality, an inconvenience attached to the in-

crease of riches; but it can never be the cause of their aug-mentation.

History plainly shows what happens wherever uselegs ex-

penses have been suppressed.

A ll theories contrary to th is reduce them selves to this un -

tenable proposition. Th at to destroy is to produ ce.

C H A P T E R X I I .

Of the revenues and expenses of governm ent and its debts.

T he history of the consumption of government is b ut a

part of the history of general consumption.

Governm ent is a very great consum er, living n ot on itsprofits but on its revenues.

It is good that the government should possets real proper-

ty . Indep ende ntly of other reasons it calls for so much the

less of taxes .



xxvii

A tax is always a sacrifice which the government demandsof individuals. W hile it only lessens every one 's personalenjoyments, it only shifts expenses from one to another.

But when it encroaches on productive consumption it di-minishes public riches.

The difficulty is to see clearly when taxes produce the oneor the other of these two effects.

To judge well of this we must divide them into six classes."We show in the first place that the taxes of each of these

six classes are injurious in ways peculiar fo themselves.W e show afterwards who in particular are injured by each

of them.Is a conclusion asked ? Here it is. The best taxes are ,

first, the most moderate, because they compel fewer sacrifi-ces and occasion less violence. Secondly, The most varied,because they produce an equilibrium amongst themselves.Thirdly, The most ancient, because they have already mixedwith all prices, and every thing is arranged in consequence.

As to the expenses of government they are necessary butthey are sterile. I t is,desirable tha t they be the smallestpossible.

It is still more desirable that government should contractno debts.

It is very unfortunate that it has the power of contractingthem.

This power, which is called public credit, speedily con-ducts all the governments which use it to their ruin; hasnone of the advantages which are attributed to it; and restson a false principle.

It is to be desired that it were universally acknowledgedthat the acts of any legislative power whatsoever cannot bindtheir successors, and that it should be solemnly declared thatthis principle is extended to the engagements which theymake with the lenders.



xxvii i

CHAPTER XIII.

Conclusion.

This is not properly a treatise on political economy, butthe first part of a treatise on the will; which will be follow-ed by two other parts, and which is preceded by an intro-duction common to all the three.

Thus we ought not to have entered into many details, butto ascend carefully to principles founded in the observation

of our faculties, and to indicate as clearly as possible the re-lations between our physical and moral wants.

Th is is what I have endeavoured to do. Incontestibletruths result from it.

They will be contested however, less through interest thanpassion.

A new bond of union between economy and morality; anew reason for analizing well our different sen timents , and

for enquiring with care whether they are founded on ju st oron false opinions.

Let us now consider our sentiments.



A TREATISE

POLITICAL ECONOMY,

SUPPLEMENT

First Section of the Elements of Ideology.

In proportion as I advance in the digestion of

these elements, I am incessantly obliged to return

to objects, of which 1 have already treated. At the

commencement of the grammar it was necessary to

recall the attention of the reader to the analysis of

the judgm ent, to render still more precise the idea of

that intellectual operation, and of its results , and to

repeat several of the effects already recognized in the

signs, and several of their relations, with the nature

of the ideas which they represent.

A t the commencement of the volume which treats

more especially of logic. I of necessity looked back

on the ancient history of the science, to show, that

true logic is absolutely the same science with that

of the formation, the expression, and combination of

our ideas; that is to say, that which has been sinee

called Ideology, general grammar, or analysis of



the understanding; and to show that my two first vo-

lum es are but the restoration, more or less fortunate,

of the two first parts of the ancient logics, and the

supplement of that which has always been wanting

to these very important preliminaries. I have more-

over been under the necessity of insisting a lso on the

explication of the idea of existence, and on that of

the reality of our preceptions, and of their necessary

concordance with the reality of the beings whichcause them, when they" are all legitimately dedu-

ced from the first and direct impressions, which these

beings make on us.

A t present I find myself, in like manner, constrain-

ed to speak again of the conclusions of th is log ic,

before advancing further, and not to apply my theo-

ry of the causes of certitude and error, to the studyof the will and its effects, without having given it

some new developements. T h e reader ought to par-

don these frequent retrospects; for they arise almost

necessarily from the nature of the subject, from the

manner in which it has been treated hitherto, and

from the necessity we are under, of anticipating a

crowd of objections, when we wish to render a newopinion acceptable.

Let me be permitted then to mention here again,

that I have reduced the wh ole science of logic to

the observation of two facts, which result manifest-

ly from the scrupulous examination of our intellec-

tual operations. T h e first is , that our perceptions

being every thing for us , we are perfectly, complete-

ly, and necessarily sure of all that we actually feel.

T h e second, which is bat a consequence of that, is that



none of our judgm ents, taken sepa rately, can be erro-

neous, since, for the very reason that we see one ideain another, it must be actually there; but that their

falsity, when it takes place, is purely relative to all

the anterior judgments, which we permit to subsist ,

and consists in this , tha t we believe the ide a, in which

w e see a new element, to be the same w e have al-

w ays had un de r the same sign, w hile it is rea lly dif-

ferent, since the new ele m ent we actually see thereis incompatible with some of those which we have

previously seen there . S o that, to avoid contradic-

tion, it would be necessary either to take away the

former, or not to admit the latter.

After hav ing estab lished these tw o prin ciple s, or

rather these two facts, I have given some elucida-

tions, I have met in advance some objections, Ihave show n that these two objections are equ ally

true, whatever be the nature of our ideas, and what-

ever the use we m ake of them : and hence I hav e con-

cluded, that all the rules whatsoever which have been

prescribed for the form of our reasonings, to assure

us of their justice, are absolutely useless and illuso-

ry ; and that our sole and only means of preserving

ourselves from error, is to as sure ourselves w ell

that we comprehend the idea of which w e jud ge , and

if it be doubtful, to make the most complete enume-

ration possible of the elements which compose it,

and principally of those which may either implicitly

contain or exclude that whose admission or exclu-

sion is in question. I t is here tha t, w ithout more

details, I have terminated my treatise on logic,

which consequently finishes almost at the point



at w hich all the others commence. T h is ought so

to be, as I meant to speak only of the scie nc e;while other logicians, neglecting the science almost

entirely, have occupied themselves only with the

art I confess my belief, that my labo ur is more

useful than theirs ; because, in every matter, it is al-

ways very difficult, from premature consequences, to

remount to the principles which ought to have serv-

ed as their foundation. W he re a s, w hen we havewell established the first truths, it is easy to deduce

the consequences wh ich flow from them . Y et this

second operation is important also, and as a subject

is not com pletely trea ted of, bu t when it is execut-

ed , I w ill pre sen t, before proceeding further, sum-

marily, but methodically, the series of practical

m ax im s, which result from my method of consider-ing our m eans of know-ledge. T h e use I shall af-

terwards make of these same means, in the study of

the will an d its effects, w ill be an exa m ple of the

m anne r in w hich these rules are app lied in all our

researches.

APHORISM FIRST.*

W e know our existence only by the impressions

we experience, and that of beings other than our-

selves, but by the impressions which they cause on

tis.

Observation.

In like manner, as all our propositions may

be reduced to the form of eimnciative propositions,

* I have employed the form of aphorisms, observations and co-rollaries, in order to say the most in the fewest words.



because at bottom they all expre ss a judg m ent, so

all our enunciative propositions may afterwards bealw ays reduced to some oue of th e se : / think, I

feel, or / perceive, that such a thing is in such a

manner, or that such a being produces such an ef-

fect; propositions of which w e are ourselves the sub-

jec t, because in fact we are alw ays the subject of

all our judg m en ts, since they never express b ut the

impression which we experience.

Corollary.

F ro m hence it follo w s: 1st. T h a t our percep- <

tions are all of them always such as we feel them,

aud are not susceptible of any error, taken each se-

parately, and in itself.

Sd ly. T h a t if in the different com binations, wemake of them, we add to them nothing which is not

primitively comprised in them, implicitly or explicit-

ly, they are always conformable to the existence of

the beings which cause them, since that existence is

not known to us but by them, and consists for us on-

ly in those perceptions.

3dly. T h a t we know nothing but relatively to

ourse lves, and to our means of receiving perc eption s.

4th ly. T h a t these perceptions are every thing for

u s ; that we know nothing ever but our perceptions;

tha t they are the only things truly real for us , and tha t

the reality which we recognize in the beings that

cause them is only secondary, and consists only inthe perma nent pow er of alw ays causing the same

impressions under the same circumstances, whether

on ourselves, or on other sensible beings, who give

us an account of them (also by the imp ressions j



6

' which they cause in us) when we have become able

to hold communication with them by signs.

A P H O R I S M S E C O N D .

Since our perceptions are all of them alway*such as we feel them, when we perceive one idea inanother, it is actually and really there, from the ve-ry circumstance of our perceiving it there: hence

no one of our judgments taken separately and de-tached, is false. I t has always and necessarilythe certitude which belongs inevitably to each of ouractual perceptions.

Corollary.

None of our judgments then can be false, but

relatively to anterior judgments, and that suffices torender them false relatively to the existence of be-ings, the causes of our impressions, if these anteri-or judgments; were just, relatively to that exist-ence,

A P H O R I S M T H I R D .

When we see in an idea, or a perception, an;element incompatible with those which it includedbefore, this idea is different from what it was r for,such as it was> it excluded this new element whichwe see th ere; and, such as it is , it excludes thosewhich are incompatible with it.

Corollary.

T h at it may then be the same idea which it wasbefore, we must exclude from it the elemen whichwe see there at present, or if those which are repug-



uant to it, are misplaced in this id ea, they must

them selves be exclud ed from it; that is to say, itmust be rendered such as it was, when they were

erroneously admitted into it, which is to restore it

again to the same state in which it w as , before it

was changed b y a false judgment, without our per-

ceiving it.

A P H O R I S M F O U R T H .

W h en we form a judgment of an idea, when w e

see in it a new element, one of these four things

must necessarily happen: Either the judgment which

w e now form is consequent to a just idea, in w hich

case it is ju st ; and the idea without changing its

nature has only developed and extended itself.Or it is inconsequent to a just idea , in w hich case

it is fal se ; and the idea is chan ged, and is become

false.

Or it is consequent to an idea already false, then

it is false, but the idea is not changed; it is when it

has become false previously, that it has changed in

relation to what it was primitively.Or it is inconsequent to a false idea, then it may

be just or false; but never certain, for the idea is

changed. Bu t it may have become just, such as it

was originally , or false , in a manner different from

the preceding.

Observation.Remark always, that an idea infected with false

elements, and consequently meriting the name of

false, taken in mass, may also contain many true



8

elements. W e m ay form then , in consequence of

these true elements, ju st judg m ents , and then theywill be completely true ; as we may also form from

them false jud gm en ts, which shall be com pletely

false ; but these jud gm en ts w ill not be formed from

that idea, inasmuch as it is false, and in consequence

of that which it has of falsity ; they ought therefore

to be considered as formed from a true idea, and en-

ter into what we have said of these.

T h is is w hat most frequently ha ppen s to us , so

few compound idea s have we which are perfectly

pure , and without m ixture of imperfection. P er h ap s

w e have none. P e rh ap s it wo uld suffice for us to

hav e one alone, to rend er all our others the sam e,

by the sole force of their relations and com binations,proximate or remote.

APHORISM FIFTH.

Thus all our perceptions are originally just and

true, and error is only introduced to them at the mo-

ment when we adm it an element which is opposed

to them. T h a t is to say , which denatu ralises andchanges them, without our perceiving it.

APHORISM SIXTH.

T h is wou ld never happen to us , if we had al-

w ay s p resent to the mind , that w hich the idea com-

ports , of which we jud ge . T h u s all our errors real-

ly come from this : tha t w e represen t the idea im-

perfectly to ourselves.



APHORISM SEVENTH.

W h a t precedes not appertaining to any circum-

stance peculiar to any one of our perceptions ra the r

than to another, agrees generally with all.

Corollary.

H en ce it follows, 1st. T h a t our m anne r of pr o-

ceeding is the same for our ideas of every kind.2d ly. T h a t all our errors originate from the ba-

sis of our ideas, and not from the form of our reason-

ings.

3d ly. T h a t all the rules w hich can be prescribed

for the forms of these reaso nings, can contribute noth-

ing to avoid er ro r; or at least can contribute to it feut

accidentally.

APHORISM EIGHTH.

W e have then no other effectual mean s of avoid-

ing error, but to assure ourselves well of the com-

prehension of the idea of which we judge, that is to

say, of the elements of which it is composed.

Observation.

T h a t is not possible, unless we commence by

well determining the extension of this idea, for it

contains many elements in certain degrees of its ex-

tension, which it does not in others, that is to

say, it is not exactly similar to itself, it is not rigo-

rou sly the same idea in their different degre es of

extension.



APHORISM NINTH.

This general and only method embraces several

others, and first that of study ing with care the ob-

ject, or objects, from which the idea in question

emanates, and afterwards that of guarding ourselves

with the same care from the affections, passions ,

prejudices, dispositions, habits and manners of be-

ing, by which the idea could be altered.

Observation.

These two precautions are necessary, the first to

assemble, as far as possible, all the elements which

really appertain to the idea in question, the se-

cond to separate from it in like manner a ll those

which are foreign to it, and which might m inglethem selves with it, and alter it, w ithout our per-

ceiving it.

APHORISM TENTH.

After these two necessary preliminaries, if we

are still in doubt as to the judgment w e are to form,the most useful expedient of which w e can avail

ourselves, is to make an enumeration the most com-

plete possible of the elements composing the idea,

wh ich is the subject of the judgm ent, and principal-

ly of those which have relation to the idea which w e

propose to attribute to it, that is to say, to the attri-

bute of the contemplated judgment.

Observation.

T h e effect of this operation i s to recal to our-

selves, or to those whom we wish to convince of the



11

truth or falsity of a proposition, the elements of the

subject which implicitly comprehend the proposedattribute, or which on the contrary may exclude it.

It is the object which the logicians propose to at-

tain by w hat they call definitions ; but in my opi-

nion they fall into several erro rs rela tively to defi-

nitions, and they greatly mistake their effects and

propert ies.

1st. T h e y believe that there are definitions

of w ord s, and definitions of thing s, w hile in truth

there are none but definitions of idea s. W h e n I ex-

plain the sense of a word, I do nothing but explain

the idea which I have when I pronounce that word,

and when I explain what a being is, I still do noth-

ing but explain the idea I have of that being, and

•which 1 expre ss w hen I pron ounce its nam e.

Sd. T h e y aver that definitions are prin ciple s,

an d that we cannot dispute about definitions. T h e se

two assertions are contraries, and yet both of them

false.

In the first place they arc contradictory, for if de-

finitions are princ iple s, we can and we ough t fre-qu ently to question their truth, as we ought never

to recognise any principle as true without a previ-

ous ex am ination, and if we canno t contest defini-

tions, they cannot be principles, since every princi-

ple should be proved before it is admitted.

A gain , these two assertions are both false. D e-

finitions ar e not pr in ci p le s; for facts are the on-ly true principles; and definitions are not facts,

but simple explanations founded on facts, as all

our other propositions wh atsoever. N o w we m ay

contest a definition, as every other proposition ; for



IS

when I explain the idea that I have of a being, I

do not pretend to say merely that I have this idea;I pretend also to affirm that this idea agrees w iththat being, and that we may so conceive it withouter ro r; now .this is what may be false, and whatmay be contested. So also when I explain the ideawhich I have of the sense of a word, I do notsolely pretend that I have this idea, I pretend

further that it does not affect the real relations ofthis word with an infinity of others, that we mayemploy it in this sense without inconvenience andwithout inconsequence; now this is what againmay be contested with reason. In fine, if 1 shouldpretend by a definition only to explain the com-plex and compound idea that I have actually in mybead, yet it should always be allowed to show methat this idea is badly formed, that it is composedof judgments inconsequent the one to the other,and that it includes contradictory elements. Thendefinitions never are principles, and yet they al-ways are contestible.

3dly. T h e logicians have believed that the defi-nition is good, and that the idea defined is perfectlyexplained when they have determined it, per genus

proximum et differentiam specijicam, as they say ;that is to say, when they have expressed that oneof its elements which constitutes it of such a genus,and the one which in this genus distinguishes it

from the ideas of the neighbouring species. N owthis is still false, and is only founded on the fantas-tical doctrine, in virtue of which they believed theywere able to distribute all our ideas into differentarbitrary classes called categories.



13

That is false, first, because these arbitrary classi-

fications never represen t natu re. O ur ideas are con-nected the one to the other by a thousand different

relations. Seen un der one aspect they are of one

genus, and under another they are of another ge-

nus ; subseque ntly each of them dep end s on an in-

numerable multitude of proximate ideas, by an infi-

nity of relations, of natures so different that we can-

not compare them together, to decide which is the

least remote. T h u s we can never, or almost never

find real ly the proximate genus or specific differenca

which deserves exclusively to characterise an idea.

M oreo ver, if we should have found in this idea

the elements which in fact determine the genus and

species in which it is reasonably permitted to classit, the idea wou ld still be far from sufficiently ex -

plained, to be well known.

These two elements might even be absolutely fo-

reign to the decision of the question which may

hav e given place to the definition. A ssu red ly w hen

I say that gold is a metal, and the heaviest of me-

tals except platina, I have correctly ranged goldin the genus of beings to which it belongs, and I

hav e distinguished it by a characteristic difference

from those nearest to it in that g enus . Y et this

does not help me to know whether the use of gold,

as money, is useful to commerce, or pernicious to

m ora lity, nor even wh eth er it is the most ductile of

m etals. T h e two first questions dep end on ideastoo foreign to those which fix go ld in a certain

place amongst metals; and though the latter may be

less distant, yet we do not kno w the direct and ne-

cessary relation between w eight and ductility.



Logicians have been mistaken respecting the na-

ture, the effects and pro pe rties of definitions. T h e yare incapable of answering the end which they pro-

pose to attain by their means, tha t of pre sen ting

the idea of which w e are to ju dg e in such a man-

ner that we cannot avoid forming a just judgment.

T h e only mean of attaining this is to mak e the

best description possible of the idea , and w ith th#

precautions which we have indicated.

Remark.

It is necessary to observe that all that we have

advised in the 8th, 9th and 10th aphorisms, and al-

so w hat w e shall advise hereafter to be do ne, to

know well the idea, the subject of the judgment in

question is equ ally applicable to the idea w hich is

the attribute of the same jud gm ent, a know ledge of

which is equally essential, and can only be acquir-

ed by the same mean.

APHORISM ELEVENTH.

The means indicated above of knowing well theidea of which we are to ju d ge , are the only re-

ally efficacious ones in bringing us to the formation

of jus t judg m en ts; but they may very possibly be in-

sufficient to give us a certitude of having succeeded.

W e m ust therefore add subsidiary means.

APHORISM TWELFTH.

The best and most useful of our secondary means

is to see, on the one ha nd , if the ju dg m en t w e are

to form is not in opposition to anterior judgments,



15

of the certitude of which we are assured; and an the

other if it does not necessarily lead to consequencesmanifestly false.

Remark.

T h e first point is that which has so strongly ac-

credited the usage of general propositions ; for, as

we can confront them w ith a num ber of p artic ula r

propositions, we have frequently had recourse there-to, and we have habituated ourselves to remount no

further, and to believe that they are the prim itive

source of truth. T h e second is the m otive of al l

those reasonings w hich consist in a reduction to

what is absurd.

Observation.

The process recommended in this aphorism is a

specie s of proof to which we submit the projected

operation . I t is very useful to avoid erro r, for if

the jud gm en t we exam ine is found iu opposition to

anterior ones which are just, or necessarily connect-

ed with false consequences, it is evidently necessaryto reject it; but this same process does not lead us

directly and necessarily to truth, for it may be that

no determining motive for the affirmative may result

from the research.

APHORISM THIRTEENTH.

I n a case in wh ich w e w ant decisive reasons todetermine us, no other resource is left us but to en-

deavour to obtain new lights, that is to say, to in-

troduce n ew elements into the idea w hich is the sub-



16

ject of the judgment w e are to form. T h is can be

done in two ways only, either by seeking to collectnew facts, or by endeavouring to make of those al-

ready known combinations which had not previous-

ly occurred to us, and thence to draw consequences

which we had not before remarked.

Observation.

T h e advice contained in this aphorism, is on lythe developem ent of the first part of aphorism 9th ,

and it can be nothing else ; for when we are assur-

ed that we are not sufficiently acquainted with a

subject to judge of it, there is no other resource but

to study it more.

APHORISM FOURTEENTH.

F in al ly , wh en the motives of determination fail

us invincibly, w e should know how to remain in

complete doubt, and to suspen d absolutely our jud g-

ment, rather than rest it on vain and confused ap-

pearances, since in these w e can never be sure that

there are not some false elements.

Rem ark and conclusion.

T h is is the last and most essential of logical prin-

ciples ; for in following it we may possibly remain

in ignorance, but we can never fall into erro r; all

our errors arising alw ays from adm itting into that

which w e know elements which are not reallythere, and which lead us to consequences which

ought not to follow from those that are there effec-

tively.



In effect, if fr°m o u r fi rs^ impressions the most

simple to our most general ideas, and their mostcomplicated combinations, we have never recogniz-

ed in our successive perceptions but what is th ere ,

our last combinations would be as irreproachable as

th e first act of our sens ibility. T h u s , in logical ri-

gour, it is very certain that we ought never to form

a jud gm ent but wh en we see clearly that the subject

includes the attributes : that is to say, that the judg-ment is just.

But at the same time it is also very certain that in

the course of life we seldom arrive at certitude, and

ar e frequently obliged , nev erthe less, to form a reso -

lution pr ov ision ally; to form none bein g often to

adopt one of the most decisive character, without

renouncing the principle we have just laid down, or

In any man ner derogating from it. I t is now

pro per to spea k of the theory of proba bility. It is

a subject I encounter w ith reluctance. F ir st , be-

cause it is very difficult, and as yet very little eluci-

dated ; nex t, because one cannot hop e to treat it pro*

foundly when one is not perfectly familiar with the

combinations of the science of quantities, and of the

langua ge proper to them. Fi na lly , because even

with these means the nature of the subject deprives

us of the hop e of arriving at almost any certain re-

su lt, and leaves us only tha t of a good calculation of

chances. L et us , how ever, endeav our to form to our-

selves an accurate and just idea of it; this will per-haps be already to contribute to its progress.

The science of probability is not a part of logic,

and ought not even to be regarded as forming a sup-



18

plement to it. Lo gic teaches us to form ju st judg-

ments, and to make series of judgments: that is tosay, of reasonings which are consequent. N o w ,

properly speaking, there are no judgments or serieft

of judgments which are probable. W h en w e jud ge

that an opinion or a fact is probable, we judge it po-

siCVely; and this judgment is just, false, or presump-

tuous, according as we have perfectly or imperfectly

observed the principles of the art of logic. But itwill be said, that the science of probability in teach-

ing us to estimate this probability of an opinion,

teaches us to judge justly whether this opinion is or

is not probable. I admit it: but it produces this ef-

fect as the science of the properties of bodies, phy-

sics, teaches us to form the judgm ent that such a

property appertains to such a body; as the scienceof extension teaches us to form the judgm ent that

such a theorem results from the properties of such- a

figure; as the science of quantity teaches us that

such a number is the result of such a calculation ;

finally, as all the sciences teach us to form sound

judgments of the objects, w hich belong to their

province. Neverth eless we cannot say , and we donot sa y, that they are but parts of log ic, nor even

that they are supplements to it. T h e y all on the con*

trary throw light on the subjects of which they treat

only in consequence of the m eans and processes with

which they are furnished by sound logic. T h is is

useful to a ll the sciences; but none of them either aid

it imm ediately, supply its place, make a part of it,

or are supplements to it. T h e science of probability

has in this respect no particular privileges under

this aspect; it is a science similar to all the others.



19

But I go further; the science to wh ich w e

given the name of the science of probability, is nota science : or to exp lain myself m ore clearly, w e

comprehend erroneously un der this collective and

common name a multitude of sciences or of portions

of sciences quite different among themselves, stran-

gers to one ano ther, and which it is impossible to

un ite without confounding them all . In effect, that

w hich is called commonly the science of probab ili*ty com prehen ds two very distinct pa rts, of w hich

one is the research, and the valuation of da ta, the

other is the calculation, or the combination of these

same data.

Now the success of the research and valuation of

data, if the question is on the probability of a narra*

tion, consists in a knowledge of the circumstances,proper to the fact in itself, and to all those who have

spoken of i t :—thus it depends on and forms a part

of the science of his to ry . If the question is on the

probability of a physical event, this research of data

consists in acquiring a knowledge of anterior facts

and of their connection :—thus it appertains to phy-

sics. If the question is on the prob ab le results of

a social institution, or of the deliberations of an

assembly of men, the anterior facts are the details

of the social organization, or of the intellectual dis-

positions and operations of these men :—thus it de-

pe nd s on social and moral science, or on ideo logy .

F in a ll y , wh en it is only to foresee the chances of theplay of cross and pile, the data would be the con-

struction of the piece, the manner of resistance of the

medium in which it moves, that of the bodies ag ains t

which it may strike, the motion proper to the



SO

arm which casts it, and which are more or less easy

to it . T b u s these data would still depend on thephysical constitution of animate and inanimate bo-

dies. Then as to the research of data, and to the

fixation of their importance, the pretended science

of prob ab ility is composed of a m ulti tud e of differ-

ent sciences, according to the subject on which it is

employed ; and consequently it is not a particular

science.A s to the combination of the d ata once e stablished ,

the science of p robability is nothing, w hen w e em-

plo y calculation there in, but the science of qu antity

or of calculation itself; for the difficulty does not

consist in giving to abstract unity any concrete value

whatever, and sometimes one and sometimes ano-

ther, but in knowing all the resources which perfectcalculation furnishes to make of this unity and of

all its, multiplied combinations the most complicat-

ed, and to connect them regularly without losing

their clue.

W e see then that neither in regard to the research

and valuation of data, nor in regard to the combina-

tions of the se same data , the preten ded science ofpro bability is not a pa rticu lar science distinc t from

every other.

W e might rath er consider it either as a branch of

the science of quantities, and as an employment

Which we m ak e of it in certain pa rts of severa l dif-

ferent sciences w hich are susceptible of this ap pl i-

cation, o r as th e reun ion of scattered portions of m a-

ny sciences, strangers the one to the other, which

have only so much in common as to give place to

sueU questions as can on ly be resolved by a very



31

learned and very delicate employment of the admi-

rable means of calculation furnished by the scienceof quantities in the state of perfection which it has

at this time attained ; but this is not seeing the the-

ory of prob ability in its full ex tent, for we canno t

always employ calculation in the estimation of pro-

bab ility. N ev erthe less this mann er of considering

and decomposing what is called the science of pro-

bability explains to us already many of the thingswhich concern it, and puts us in the way of form-

ing to ourselves an accurate and complete idea of it.

W e see first w hy it is the m athematicians w ho

have had the idea of it, and who have, if we may

so say , created and m ade it entire ly. I t is because

such as they have conceived it, it consists principal-

ly in the employm ent Qf a powerful agen t which w as

at their disposal; they have been able to push to a

great length speculations which other men have

been obliged to abandon in consequence of a want

of means to pursue them.

W e also see w hy these mathematicians p rincipal-

ly and almost entirely employed themselves on sub-jec ts of which the data are very sim ple, such as

the chances of games of hazard, and of lotteries, or

the effects of the interest of money lent; it is be-

cause their principal adv antag e consisting in their

great skill in calculation, they have with reason pre-

ferred the objects where this art is almost every

thing, and where the choice and valuation of datapre sen t scarcely any difficulty; and it is in fact in

cases of this kind that they have obtained a success

both curious and useful.



£ 3

W e moreover see w hy it is that all the efforts

of these mathematicians, even the most skilful,

when they have undertaken to treat in the same

manner subjects of which the data were num erous,

subtile and complicated, have produced little else

than witty conceits which may be called difficile*

vugae, learned trifles. It is because the farther

they have pursued the consequences resulting from

the small number of data which they have beeaable to obtain, the farther they have departed

from the consequences which these same data

would have produced, united with all those of-

ten more important, which they have been obliged

to neglect from inability to unravel and appre-

ciate them. T h is is the cause wh y we have seen

great calculators, after the most learned combina-tions, give us forms of balloting the most defective,

not having taken into account a thousand circum-

stances, inherent in the nature of men and of things,

attending only to the circumstance of the number of

the one and of the other. It is the reason why Con-

dorcet himself, when he undertook to apply the

theory of probabilities to the decisions of assem blies,and particularly to the judgments of tribunals, ei-

ther has not ventured to deride any thing on actual

institutions, and has confined himself to reasoning

on imaginary hypothesis, or has often been led to

expedients absolutely impracticable, or which would

have inconveniencies more serious than those he

wished to avoid.

Whatever respect I bear to the great intelligence

and high capacity of this truly superior and ever to

lie regretted man, I do not fear to pass so bold a



sentence on this part of his labors, for I am in some

measure authorized to do it by himself. The t i t leof Essay which he has given to his treatise, and the

motto which he has prefixed to it, prove how much

he doubted of the success of such an enterprise, and

what confirms it is, that in his last work, composed

on the eve of an unfortunate death, in which he has

traced with so firm a hand the history of the pro-

gress of the hum an mind, and in wh ich he ha s as-

signed to the theory of probabilities so gr»»at a part

in the future success of the moral sciences, he uses

with all the candour which characterises him these

expressions, page 3 6 2 — " T h is application, not-

w ithsta nd ing the ha pp y efforts of some geometri-

cians, is still, if I may so say, but in its first ele-ments, and it must open to following generations a

source of intelligence truly inexhaustible.7 ' Y et he

had then made not only the learned essay of which

we are spea king , but also a wo rk greatly superior,

the elements of the calculation of probabilities and

of its application to gam es of ha za rd , to lotteries

and to th6 judg m ents of men, which w ere not pub -lished till the year 1805.

I believe, then, that I have advanced nothing rash

in observing that in subjects difficult by the number,

subtility, complexity and intimate connexion of the

circumstances to be considered , w ithout the omis-

sion of any of them, the great talent of well com-

bining those, not sufficiently numerous, which havebeen perceiv ed , ha s not been sufficient to prese rve

the most skilful calcu lators from important errors

and great m isreckonings. W e perceive that that

was to be exp ected . B ut wow Irawet go further, and



all this lea ds me to a last reflection, w hich flows

from the nature of thin gs, like those which ha vejust been read, which confirms several important

principles established in the preceding volumes,

which far from annihilating the great hopes of Con-

dorcet tends to assure and realise them, by restrain-

ing them w ithin certain li m it s; but which appe ar

to me to show m anifestly, how far the calculation

of prob abilities is from being the sam e thing w ith

the theory of prob ability. Ob serve in wh at this

observation consists.

T h e principa l object of the theory of probab ility

and its great utility, is in setting out from the reu-

nion of a certain number of given causes, to deter-

mine the degree of the probability of the effectswhich ought to follow ; and setting out from the re-

union of a certain num ber of know n effects, to de-

termine the degree of the probability of the causes,

which have been able to produce them . W e m ay

even say tha t all the resu lts of this theory are but

different bran che s of this gen era l re su lt, and m ay

be traced to be nothing more than parts of it.N o w w e have previously seen, and on different

occasions, that for brings of any kind, to be success-

fully submitted to the action of calculation, it is ne-

cessary they should be susceptible of adaptation to

the clear, precise an d invariab le divisions of the

ideas of quantity, and to the series of the names of

numbers and of cyphe rs, which express them. T h isis a condition necessary to the validity of every cal-

culation from which that which has probability for

its object, cannot be any more exem pt, than th a t

which conducts to absolute certainty.



25

Hence it rigorously follows, that there is a mul-

titude of subjects of which it would be absolutelyimpossible to calculate the data, if even (which is

not always the case) it should be possible to collect

them all without overlooking any.

A ssu red ly the degrees of the capacity, of the pro-

bity of men, those of the energy an d the po w er of

their passions, prejudices and habits, cannot possi-

bly be estimated in num bers. I t is the same as to

the degrees of influence of certain institutions, or of

cer tain functions, of the degrees of importance of

certain establishments, of the degrees of difficulty of

certain discoveries, of the degrees of utility of cer-

tain inven tions, or of certain processes. I kno w tha t

of these quantities, truly inappreciable and innu-

merable in all the rigour of the word, we seek and

even attain to a certain point, in determining the li-

mits, by means of number, of the frequency and ex*

tent of their effects; but I also know that in these

effects which we are obliged to sum and number to-

gether as things perfectly similar, in order to de-

duce results, it is almost always and I may say al-ways impossible to unravel the alterations and va-

riations of concurrent causes, of influencing circum-

stances, and of a thousand essential considerations,

so that we are necessitated to arrange together as

similar a multitude of things very different, to arrive

only at those preparatory results whicli are after-

wards to lead to others which cannot fail to becomeentirely fantastical.

Is an example desired, very striking, drawn from

a subject which surely does not present as many

difficulties of this k in d as moral idea s? H er e is



26

one. Certainly none of those who have undertaken

to estimate the effort of the muscles of the heart,have erred against the rules of calculation, nor, what

is more, against the law s of animated mechanics,

the certainty of w hich shou ld still preserve them

from many errors. Y et some have been led to estimate

this effort at several thousands of pou nds, and others

only at some ounces; and nobody knows with cer-

tainty which are nearest to truth. W h a t succour

then can we derive from calculation, when even

availing ourselves properly of it we are subject to

such aberrations and to such prodigious incertitude ?

I t is then true, and I repeat it, that there is a

multitude of things to which the calculation of pro-

babilities like every other calculation is completelyinapplicable. T h es e things are much more nume-

rous than is generally believed, and even by many

very skilful men, and the first step to be taken in

the science of probability is to know how to distin-

gu ish them. It is for the science of the formation

of our ide as , for that of the operations of our intell i.

gence, in a word for sound ideo logy, to teach usthe number of these things, to enable us to know

their nature, and to show us the reasons why they

are so refractory. And it is a great service which

it will render to the human mind, by prevent-

ing it in future from making a pernicious use of one

of its most excellent instruments. I t already show s

us that the science of probability is a thing verydistinct from the calculation of probability with

which it has been confounded, since it extends to

many objects to which the other cannot attain. T h is

v, is what I principally proposed to elucidate.



27

Finally, as I have before announced, this obser-

vation does not destroy the great hopes which the

pirecing genius of Condoleet had made him conceive

from the employment of calculation in general, and

from that of probability in particular, in the ad-

vancement of the moral sciences; for if the different

shades of our moral ideas cannot be exp ressed in

num bers, and if there are many other things rela-

tive to social science, which are equally incapableof being estimated and calculated directly, these

things depend on others w hich often render them

reducible to calculable quantities, if we may use the

expression. T im s for exam ple, the degrees of the

yalue of all things useful and agreeable, that is to

say, the degrees of interest we attach to their pos-

session cannot be noted directly by figures, but allthose which can be represented by quantities of

weight or extension of a particular thing, become

calculable and even comparable the one with the

other; in like manner the energy and durability

of the secret springs which cause and preserve the

action of the organs constituting our life are not

susceptible of direct appreciation, but we judge of

them by their effects. T im e and different kin ds of

resistance and wa ste are susceptible of very exact

div isions. T h is is sufficient for us , and w e derive

thence a great multitude of results and of valuable

combinations; now there is an infinity of things in

the moral sciences which offer us similar resources;but there are also many which offer none, and once

more it is of great importance to discriminate per-

fectly between them: For first, in respect to these

latter, every employment of calculation is abusive}



28

and moreover there are often species of quantitiespresented which appear calculable, but wliich areinextricably complicated by mixture with thoseother species of quantities which I permit myselfto call refractory, and then if calculation be appliedthereto, the most skilful mathematicians are inevi-tably led into enormous er ro rs ; against this in m yopinion they have not always been sufficiently on

their guard. As to these two latter cases we maysay of calculation what has been said of the syllo-gistic art as to all our reasonings whatsoever; thatis, that it conducts our mind much less correctlythan the simple light of good sense aided by suffi-cient attention.

T his is all I had to observe on the science and

calculation of probability, and I draw from it thefollowing consequences: T h e theory of probabilityis neither a part of nor a supplement to logic. T h istheory moreover is not a science separate and dis-tinct from all others. All sciences have a positiveand a conjectural part. In all of them the positivepa rt consists in distinguishing the effects which al-

ways and necessarily follow certain causes, and thecauses which always and necessarily produce certaineffects. In all of them also the conjectural pa rt con-sists in proceeding from the reunion of a certainnumber of given causes to determine the degrees ofprobability of the effects which ought to follow fromthem, and in proceeding from the reunion of a cer-

tain number of known effects to determine the de-gree of probability of the causes which have beenable to produce them. In these two parts, when theideas compared are not of a nature to comport with



29

the application of the names of numbers and of fi-

gures, we can only employ the ordinary instrumentsof reasoning, that is to say our vulgar languages,their forms, and the words which compose them.In these two parts equally when the ideas compar-ed by the clearness, constancy, and precision of theirsubdivisions are susceptible of adaptation to the di-visions of the series of the names of num bers, and

of figures, we can employ with great advantage, in-stead of the ordinary instruments of reasoning, theinstruments proper to the science of the ideas ofquantity, that is to say, the language of calculation,its formulas, and its signs. It is this which consti-tutes in respect to the conjectural part the calcula-tion of probability. I t is necessary to distinguish it

carefully from the science of probability; for theone is of use in all cases in which the object isa likelihood of any kind whatsoever; it is properlythe conjectural part of all other sciences, whereasthe other calculation has place only in those casesin which we can employ the language of calcula-tion ; it is but an instrument, of which unhappily

the science of probability cannot always avail it-self.

The science of probability consists in the talentand sagacity necessary to know the data, to chusethem, to perceive their degrees of importance, toarrange them in convenient order, a talent to which

it is very difficult to prescribe precise rules, becauseit is often the product of a multitude of unperceivedjudgments. On the contrary, the calculation of pro-bability, properly so called, consists only in follow-ing correctly the general rules of the language of



30

calculation in those cases in which it can be em -

ployed.This calculation is often extremely useful and

extremely learned ; but it is necessary carefully to

distinguish the occasions on which w e can avail our-

selves of it, for however little the ideas which we

attempt to calculate are mingled with those which I

have named refractory, and w hich are truly incalcu-

lable, we are inevitably led into the most excessivem isreckonings. It is wh at I think has happened

but too frequently to skilful men, who by their

kn ow ledge , and even by their mistakes, have put us

into the way of discovering their cause.

I will limit myself to this small number of results.

I perceive that it is to diffuse but little direct light

on a subject, which is so much the more important

and the more extensive, as unfortunately certitude

is for the most part far from us. But if I have con-

tributed to the formation of a just and clear idea of

it I shall not have been useles s. I have much more

reason than Condorcet for saying " I have not6i thought that I was giving a good work, but m ere-

" ly a work calculated to give birth to better ones,

* See page 183 of the preliminary discourse to the essay on the appli-cation of analysis to the probability of decisions, given by a plurality ofvotes, in 4to 1785, al'imprimerie royal.

This discourse, the elements of the same author which I have alrea-dy cited, and the excellent lesson of M. Delaplace, which are to be

found in the collection of the Normal schools, are, in my opinion, thethree works in which we are best able to see the general spirit andprocess of the calculation of probabilities, and where we can the mosteasily discover the causes of its advantages and inconveniences, al-though they are not yet there completely developed.



31

N o t w ishing to occupy myself longer with the

conjectural part of our kn ow led ge , and not believ-ing it necessary to add to the small number of prin-

ciples which I have established before this long di-

gression, and which embrace in my opinion every

thing of importance in the logica l art, such as it pro-

ceeds from true logica l sc ience ; it only remains for

me to endeavour to make a happy application of this

art to the study of our will and its effects. It isthis I am going to undertake, with a hope that m y

instruments being better, I may better succeed than

perhaps men more skilful but not so well armed.





SECOND SECTION

OF THK

Elements of Ideology, or a treatise on the w ill andits effects.

INTRODUCTION.

SECTION FIRST.

The faculty of willing is a mode and a consequence of the faculty oi"feeling.

W H A T has been now read is the end of all thatI had to say of human intelligence, considered un-der the relation of its means of knowing and under-standing. This analysis of our understanding, and

of that of every other animated being, such as weconceive and imagine it, is not perhaps either asperfect or as complete as might be desired; butI believe at least that it discovers clearly to us theorigin and the source of all our knowledge, and thetrue intellectual operations which enter into its com-position, and that it shows us plainly the nature

and species of certitude of which this knowledge issusceptible, and the disturbing causes which rendejit uncertain or erroneous.

Strengthened with these data we can thereforeendeavour to avail ourselves of them, and employ



34

our m eans of kno w ledg e either in the stud y of th e

will and its effects to complete the history of our in-tellectual faculties, or in the study of those beings

which are not ourselves; in order to acquire a just

idea of what we are able to know of this singular

universe delivered to our eager curiosity.

I think for the reasons before adduced, that it is

the first of these two researches which ought to oc-

cupy us in the first place. Co nseq uen tly I sha ll go

back to the point at which I endeavo ured to trace

the plan ; and I shall perm it myself to repea t he re

w hat T then said in my logic, ch ap. 9th, page 43 3.

Obliged to be consequen t, I must be pard on ed for

recalling the point from whence I set out.

" This second manner I have said of considering" our individ uals, presents us a system of pheno m e-i( na so different from the first, that we can scarcely(i believe it appertains to the same beings, seen

" m erely un der a different aspect. D oub tless we

" could conceive man as only receiving impressions,u recollecting, c om paring and com bining them al-

" w ay s with a perfect indifference. H e wou ld the n"be only a be ing , knowing and understanding6i without passion, properly so called (relatively toi( himself) and without action relatively to other be-

" ings, for he would have no motive to will, and

" no reason and no means to act; and certainlyu on this supposition whatever were his faculties

" for jud gin g and kn ow ing they wo uld rest in" grea t stagn ation, for w ant of a stimu lant an dei agent to exercise them . B ut this is not m a n ; he

" is a being willing in consequence of his impres-

" sions and of his knowledge, and acting in conse-



35

*' quencc of his w ill .* I t is that wh ich constitutes

" him on the one pa rt suscep tible of sufferings and" enjoyments, of hap pines s and m isery, ideas correla-

" tive and inseparable, and on the other part capable

" of influence and of po w er. I t is that which causes4i him to have wants and means, and consequentlyie

rights and duties, either merely when he has re-

" 1at ion with inanima te beings on ly, or mo re stillu when he is in contact with other beings, suscepti-e< ble also of enjoying and suffe ring ; for the rights£i of a sensib le being are all in its wa nt s, and its

" duties in its m e a n s ; and it is to be remarked th at

" weakness in all its forms is always and essenti-

" ally the principle of rights ; and that pow er, in

" whatsoever sense we take this word, is not and" can never be but the source of duties, that is tou say of rules for the ma nner of em ploying this pow-Ci er ." W h er e there is nothing, the old proverb jus t-

ly says the kin g loses his r ig h t: but a kin g as ano-

ther person cannot lose his rights, but in as much as

another individual loses his duties in regard to him;

w hich is say ing in an inverse sens e, that he w hocan do nothing, has no more duties to fulfil, has no

longer any rule to follow for the employment of his

pow er, since it has become nu ll. T h a t is very true.

Wants and means, rights and duties, arise thenfrom the faculty of w i l l ; if man willed nothing he

wo uld have nothing of all these. Bu t to have wants

and means, rights and duties, is to have, is to pos-

sess, something. T h es e are so m any species of

property, taking this word in its most extensive

* W e may say as much of all anim ated beings which we know , and

even of all those we imagine.



36

signification : T h e y are things which appertain to

us. Our means are even a real property, and thefirst of a ll, in the most restrained sense of the term.

Thus the ideas, wants and means, rights and du-

ties, imply the idea of property ; and the ideas of

riches and deprivation, justice and injustice, which

are derived from them, could not exist without that

of property. W e must begin then by explaining this

latter; and this can only be done by remounting to

its origin. N o w this idea of property can only be

founded on the idea of personality. F or if an

individual had not a consciousness of his own ex-

istence, distinct and separate from every other,

he could possess nothing, he could have nothing

peculiar to himself. W e must first therefore exa-

amine and determine the idea of personality ; but

before proceeding on this exam ination, there is y et

a necessary preliminary; it is to explain with clear-

ness and precision what the willing faculty is, from

which we maintain that all these ideas arise, and

on account of wh ich w e w ish to give its history.

W e have no other means of seeing clearly how thisfaculty produces these idea s, and how all the con-

sequences which result from it may be regarded as

its effects I t is thus that alw ay s by remounting, or

rather by descending 6tep by step , we are inev-

itably led to the study and observation of our intel-

lectual faculties, whenever we wish to penetrate

to the bottom of whatever subject engag es us . T h istruth is perhaps more precious in itself than a ll

those we shall be able to collect in the course of

our work. I w ill commence then by an exposi-

tion of that in which the willing faculty consists.



37

T h is faculty, or the will, is one of the four pri-

mordial faculties, which we have recognized in thehuman understanding, and even in that of all ani-

mated beings, and into wh ich w e have seen that the

faculty of thinking or of feeling necessarily resolves

itself when we decompose it into its true elements,

and when we admit into it nothing factitious.

W e have considered the faculty of w illing as the

fourth and last of these four primitive and necessa-

ry subdivisions of sen sibility; because in every de-

sire, in every act of w illing or volition, in a word,

in every propensity whatsoever, we can a lwa ys con-

ceive the act of experienc ing an impression, that of

judging it good either to seek or avoid, and e ven

that of recollecting it to a certain point, since bythe very nature of the act of judging we have seen

that the idea , wh ich is the subject of every ju dg -

ment, can alw ays be considered as a representation

of the first impression wh ich this idea has m ade.

Thus more or less confusedly, more or less rapidly,

an animated being has always felt, recollected and

judged, previously to willing.It must not be concluded from this analysis that

I consider the willing faculty as only that of hav-

ing definitive and studied sentiments which are spe-

cially called desires, and which may be called ex-

press and formal acts of the w ill . On the contrary

I believe that to have a just idea of it, we must form

one much more extensive; and nothing previouslyestablished prevents us from it: for since we have

said that even in a desire the most m echanical,

and the most sudden, and in a determination the

most instinctive, the most purely organic, we ought



38

always to conceive the acts of feeling, recollecting

and judging, as therein implicitly and impercepti-bly included, and as having necessarily preceded it,were it only for an inappreciable instant, we canwithout contradicting ourselves regard all these pro-pensities, even the most sudden and unstudied, asappertaining to the faculty of willing; though wehave made it the fourth and the last of the elemen-

tary faculties of our intelligence. I even think it isnecessary to do so, and that the will ig really andproperly the general and universal faculty of findingone thing preferable to another, that of being so af-fected as to love better such an impression, such asentiment, such an action, such a possession, suchan object, than such another. To love and to hate

are words solely relative to this faculty, whichwould have no signification if it did not exist; andits action takes place on every occasion on whichour sensibility experiences any attraction or repul-

sion whatsoever. At least it is thus 1 conceive thewill in all its generality ; and it is by proceeding

from this nianenr of conceiving it that I will attemptto explain its effects and consequences.

Without doubt the will, thus conceived, is a partof sensibility. T h e faculty of being affected in aparticular manner cannot but be a part of the facul-ty of being affected in general. But it is a distinctinodcfof it, and one which may be separated from

it in thought. W e cannot will without a cause,(this is a thing very necessary to be remarked, andnever to be forgotten,) tlius we cannot will withouthaving felt, but we may always feel iu such a man-ner as never to will. W e have already said that



3d

we can imagine man, or any other animated and

sensible being , as feeling in such a mann er tha t eve-ry thing would be equal to him; that all his affec-

tions, although distinct, would be indifferent to him;

an d that con seque ntly he could n either desire nor

fear any thing ; that is to say he could not will, for

to desire and to fear is to will : and to will is never

but to desire something and to fear the contrary, or

reciprocally. On this supposition an animated andsensible b eing w ould ye t be a feeling bein g. H e

could even be discerning and know ingj that is to sa y

ju dg in g . I t w ill be sufficient for this th at he sho uld

feel the difference of his various pe rcep tion s, an d

the different circumstances of each, although incapa-

ble of a predilection for any of them, or for any of

the combinations of them wh ich h e can m a k e ; on-ly, and we have before made the remark, the know-

ledge of the animated being thus constituted would

necessarily be very lim ited. Be cause his faculty of

knowing would have no motive of action ; and his

faculty of acting, if even it existed, could not exer-

cise itself with inten tion, 9ince to have an intention

he must have a desire, and every desire supposes apreference of some sort.

I will observ e, by the w ay , that this suppo sition

of a perfect indifference in sensibility shows very

cle arly , in my opinion , th at it is errone ously that

certain persons have wished to make of what they

call our sentiments and affections, modifications ofour being essentially different from those which they

name perceptions or ideas, and refuse to compre-

hend them under those general denominations of

perceptions or ideps; for the quality of being effec-



40

tive, which certain of our perceptions have, is but a

particular circumstance, an accidental quality, withwhich all our modifications might be endowed; and

of which, as we have just seen, all might likewise

be deprived. Bu t they w ould not be the le ss, as

they are in effect perceptions, that is to say things

perceived or felt. T h e proof i s that some of these

modifications, after having possessed the quality of

be ing effective, lose it by the effect o f habit, andothers which acquire it through reflection, all with-

out ceasing to be perce ived, and consequently w ith-

out ceasing to be perceptions. I think therefore

that the word perception is truly the generic term.

As to the distinction established between the

words perception and idea, I do not think it more le -

gitimate if founded on the pretended property of anidea being an image. F or the idea of &psartree is no

more the image of a tree, than the perception of the

relation of three to four is the image of the differ-

ence of these two figures, and no one of the modifi-

cations of our sensibility is the image of any thing

which takes place around us . I think then, that w e

may regard the words perception and idea as syno-

ninious in their most extensive signification, and for

the same reasons the words think and/eeZ as equi-

valent also w hen taken in all their generality: F or

all our thoughts are things fe lt; and if they were

not felt they would be nothing; and sensibility is

the general phenomenon w hich constitutes and com-prehends the whole existence of an animated being,

at least for himself; and inasmuch as he is an ani-

mated being, it is the only condition which can ren-

der him a thinking being.



41

However this may be, none of the animated be-

ings which we know, nor even of those we canimagine, are indifferent to all their perceptions. I tis always comprised in their sensibility, in theirfaculty of being affected, of their being so affectedas that certain perceptions appear to them what wecall agreeable, and certain others disagreeable.Now it is this which constitutes the faculty of wil-

ling . Now that we have formed to ourselves a per-fectly clear idea of it we shall easily he able to seehow this faculty produces the ideas of personalityand property.

SECTION SECOND.

From-the faculty of willing arise the ideas of personality and property.

Every man who pronounces the word I (my-

self) without being a metaphysician understands ve-ry well what he means to say, and yet being a me-

taphysician he often succeeds very badly in givingan account of it, or in explaining it. W e will en-deavour to accomplish this by the aid of some verysimple reflections.

I t is not our body such as it is to others, andsuch as it appears to them which we call our self.

The proof is that we know very well to say how

our body will be when we shall exist no more,that is to say when our self shall be no more.There are then two very distinct beings.

It is not moreover any of the particular faculties

we possess, which is for us the same thing as our



48

self. For we say I have the faculty of walking,

of eating, sleeping, of breathing, &c. T hus 1or

my self, who possess, am a thing distinct from the

thing possessed.

I s it the same with the general faculty of feeling ?

A t the first glange it appears that the answer must

be yes, since I say in the same manner I have the

faculty of feeling. Notw ithstand ing, here we find

a great difference if we penetrate further. For if Iask myself how I know that I have the faculty of

walking? I answer I know it because I feel it,

or because I experience it, because I see it, which

is still to feel it. But if 1 ask myself how I know

that I feel, I amobliged to answer I know it because

I feel it. The faculty of feeling is then that which

manifests to us all the others, without which noneof them would exist for us, whilst it manifests itself

that it is its ownprinciple to itself; that it is that

beyond which we are not able to remount, and

which constitutes ourexistence; that it is every thing

for us; that it is the same thing as ourselves. I feel

because I fee l : I feel because I exis t ; and 1 do

not exist hut because I feel. Then my existenceaad my sensibility are one and the same thing. Or

in other words the existence of myself and the sen-

sibility of myself are two identical beings.

I f we pay attention that in discourse I or myself

signifies always the moral being or person who

speaks, we shall find that (to express ourselves

with exactness) instead of saying I have the facul-

ty ofwalking I ought to say the faculty of feeling,

which constitutes the moral person who speaks to

yeu has tike property of reacting on bis legs in such



a manner that his body walks. And instead of

saying / have the faculty of feeling, I ought to saythe faculty of feeling which constitutes the moralperson who speaks to you exists in the body bywhich he speaks to you. These modes of expres-sion are odd and unusual I agree, but in my opinionthey paint the fact with much tru th ; for in all ourconversations, as in all our relations, it is always one

faculty of feeling which addresses itself to another.T h e self of each of us is therefore for him his

proper sensibility, whatsoever be the nature of thissensibility ; or what he calls his mind, if he has adecided opinion of the nature of the principle of thissame sensibility. I t is so true that it is this thatwe all understand by our self that we all regard

apparent death as the end of our being, or as a pas-sage to another existence, according as we think thatit extinguishes or does not extinguish all sentiment.It is then the sole fact of sensibility which gives usthe idea of personality, that is to say which makesus perceive that we are a being, and which consti-tutes for us ourself, our being.

The re is, however, and we have already remark-ed it ,* another of our faculties with which we oftenidentify our self that is our will. W e say indif-

ferently it depends on me, or it depends on mywill to do such or such a thing; but this observa-tion very far from contradicting the preceding ana-lysis confirms it, for the faculty of willing is but amode of the faculty of feeling ; it is our faculty offeeling so modified as to render it capable to enjoy

* See vol. 1st. chap. 13th, page 295, second edition.



44

and tosuffer, and to react onour organs. Thus totake the will as the equivalent of self, is to take a

part for thewhole ; it is to regard as the equivalentof this self theportion of sensibility which consti-tutes all its energy, that from which we can scarce-ly conceive it separated, andwithout which it wouldbe almost null, if it would not even be entirely an-

nihilated. There is then nothing there contrary to

what we have just established. It remains thenwell understood and admitted that the self or the

moral person of every animated being, conceived as

distinct from theorgans it causes to move, is eithersimply theabstract existence which wecall thesen-

sibility of this individual, which results from his or-

ganization or a monade without extension; which

is supposed eminently to possess this sensibility,and which is also clearly an abstract being (if in-

deed we comprehend this supposition,) or a littlebody, subtile, etherial, imperceptible, impalpable,endowed with this sensibility andwhich is still ve-

ry nearly an abstraction. These three suppositionsare indifferent for all which is to follow. In all

three sensibility is found; and in all three also italone constitutes the self, or the moral person of

the individual, whether it be but a phenomenon re-

sulting from his organization, or a property of a

spiritual or corporeal mind resident within him.

There remains then but one question, which is o

know if this idea ofpersonality, this consciousness

of self would arise in us from our sensibility inthe case in which it would not be followed by will,

in the case in which it would be deprived of thismode which causes it to enjoy and suffer, and to re-



act on our organs, which in a word renders it ca-

pab le of action and of passion. T h is question can-not be resolved by facts, for we know no sensibility

of this kind, and if any such existed it could not

manifest itself to our means of knowledge. For

the same reason the question is more curious than

useful ; but whatever is curious has an indirect uti-

lity, above all in these matters which can never be

viewed on too many different sides : we must notthen neglect it.

On the point in question we certainly cannot

pronounce with assurance that a being which should

feel without affection, properly so called, and with-

out reaction on its organs, would not have the idea

of pprsonality, and that of the existence of its self.

It even appears to me probable that it would havethe idea of the existence of this splf: for in fact to

feel any thing whatever, is to feel its self feeling,

it is to kuow its self feeling : it is to have the pos-

sibility of distinguishing self from tha t which self

feels ; from the modifications of self. But at the

same time it is beyond doubt that the being which

should thus know its own self would not know it

by opposition with other beings, from which it

would be able to distinguish and separate it; since

it would know only itself and its modes. It would

be for itself the true infinite or indefinite, as I have

elsewhere remarked,* without term or limit of any

k ind , not knowing any thing else. It would notthen properly know itself in the sense we attach to

the word to know, which always imports the idea

of circumscription and of specia l i ty ; and conse-

• Seevol. 3d,chap. 5, p. 27.



46

qnently it would not have the idea of individuality

and of personality, in opposition and distinctionfrom other beings as w e have it. W e may already

assure ourselves that this idea, such as it is in us

and for us, is a creation and an effect of our faculty

of w illi n g; and this explains very clearly w hy , al-

though the sole faculty of feeling simply constitutes

and establishes our existence, yet we confound and

identify by preference our self with onr will. HereI think is a first point elucidated.

A thing still more certain, perh aps, and which w ill

advance us a step further, is that if it is possible that

the idea of individuality and personality should ex-

ist in the manner we have said, in a being conceiv-

ed to be endowed with sensibility without will, at

least it is impossible it should produce there the

idea of property such as we have it. For our idea

of property is privative and ex clu sive: it imports

the idea that the thing possessed appertains to a

sensible being, and appertains to none but him,

to the exclusion of all others. N o w it can-

not be that it ex ists thus in the head of a bein gwhich knows nothing but itself, which does not

know that any other beings besides itself exis ts. If

then w e should suppose that this being know s its

self with sufficient accuracy to distinguish it from

its modes, and to regard its different modifications

as attributes of this self, as things which this

self possesses, this being would still not have com-pletely our idea of property. For this it is neces-

sary to have the idea of personality very complete-

ly , and such as we have just seen that we form it

when w e are susceptible of passion and of action.



47

It is then proved that this idea of property is an ef-

fect, a production of our w illing faculty.Bijt what is very necessary to be remarked, be-

cause it has many consequences, is , that if it be cer-tain that the idea of property can arise only in a be-ing endowed with will, it is equally certain that insuch a being it arises necessarily and inevitably inall its p lenitude ; for as soon as this individual

knows accurately itself, or its moral person, and itscapacity to enjoy and to suffer, and to act necessa-rily, it sees clearly also that this self is the exclu-sive proprietor of the body which it animates, of theorgans which it moves, of all their, passions and theiractions ; for all this finishes and commences withthis self, exists but by it, is not moved but by its

acts, and no other moral person can employ thesame instruments nor be affected in the same man-ner by their effects. T he idea of property and ofexclusive property arises then necessarily in a sen-sible being from this alone, that it is susceptible ofpassion and action ; and it rises in such a being be-

cause nature has endowed it with an inevitable andinalienable property, that of its individuality.

It was necessary there should be a natural andnecessary property, as there exists an artificial andconventional one ; for there can never be any thingin art which has not its radical principle in nature;—we have already made the observation elsewhere.*

If our gestures and our cries had not the natural andinevitable effect of denoting the ideas which affectus, they never would have become their artificial

* See on this subject, vol. 1st. chap. 16th, page 339, second edi-tion, and different parts of the 2d and 3d volumes.



48

and conventional signs. If it were not in nature

that every solid body sustained above our headsnecessarily sheltered us we should never have hadhouses made expressly for shelter. In the samemanner, if there never had been natural and inevi-table property there never would have been anyartificial or conventional. T h is is universally thecase, and we cannot too frequently repeat, man cre-

ates nothing, he makes nothing absolutely new orextra-natural, (if we may be allowed the expres-sion) he never does any thing but draw consequen-ces and make combinations from that which alreadyis. I t is also as impossible for him to create an ideaor a relation which has hot its source in nature asto give himself a sense which has no relation w ithhis natural senses. From this it also follows thatin every researcja which concerns man it is necessaryto arrive at this first type; for as long as we do notsee the natural model of an artificial institutionwhich we examine we may be sure we have not dis-covered its generation, and consequently we do not

know it completely.This observation will meet with many explica-

tions. It appears to me that we have net alwayspaid sufficient attention to it, and that it is for thisreason we have often discoursed on the subjectwhich now occupies us in a very useless and vaguemanner. W e have brought property to a solemn

trial at bar and exhibited the reasons for and againstit as if it depended on us, whether there should orshould not be property in this world. But this isentirely to mistake our nature. I t seems were weto listen to certain philosophers and legislators that



49

at a precise instant people have taken into their

heads spontaneously, and without cause, to saythine and mine, and that they could and even

shou ld have dispensed with i t . B u t the thine and

the mine were never invented. T h e y were acknow-

ledg ed the day on wh ich we could say thee and

m e ; and the idea of me and thee or rather of me

and something other than me, has arisen, if not the

very day on which a feeling being lias experiencedim pressions, at least the one on w hich , in conse-

quence of these impressions, he has experienced

the sentiment of willing, the possibility of acting,

which is a consequence thereof, and a resistance to

this sentiment and to this act. W h e n afterwards

among these resist ing beings, consequently other

than himself, the feeling and willing being has

known that there were some feeling like himself,

it ha s been forced to accord to them a personality

other than h is ow n, a se//*otlicrthan h is ow n a nd dif-

ferent from his ow n. A nd it alw ay s has been im-

possible, as it always will be, that that which is his

sho uld not for him be different from that which istheirs. It was not requisite therefore to discuss at

first whether it is well or ill that there exists such

or such species of property, the advantages and in-

conveniences of which we shall see by the sequel 5

bu t it w as necessary first of all to recogn ize that

there is a property, fundamental, anterior and supe-

rior to every institution, from which will alwaysarise all the sentim ents and dis-sentim ents wh ich

are derived from all the others; for there is proper-

ty, if not precisely every where that there is an in-

dividual sentient, at least every where that there is



50

an individual willing in consequence of his senti-

ment, and acting in consequence of his will. T h e s e ,or I am greatly mistaken, are eternal truths, against

which will fail all the declamations that have no-

thing for their base but an ignorance of our true ex -

istence; and which are indebted to this ignorance

for the great credit they have enjoyed at different

times, and in different countries.

A s no authority can impose on me when it is con-

trary to evidence, I will say frankly that the same

forgetfulness of the true condition of our being is

found in this famous precept, so much boasted :

Love thy neighbour as thyself. It exhorts us to a

sentiment wh ich is very good and very useful to

propagate, but which is certainly also very badlyexp ressed ; for to take this expression in all the ri-

gour of the injunction it is inexecutable; it is as if

they should tell us, with your eyes, suck as they are,

see your own visage as you see that of others. T h i s

cannot be. W ithou t doubt w e are able to love ano-

ther as much and even more than ourselves, in the

sense that we should rather die , bearing with us thehope of preserving his life, than to live and to suffer

the grief of losing him. Bu t to love him exa ctly

as ourself, and otherwise than relatively to ourself,

once more I say is impossible. It would be neces-

sary for this, to live his life as we do our own.*

T h is has no meaning for beings constituted as w e

are. It is contrary to the work of our creation, inwhat manner soever it has been operated.

* It is in consequence of a confused notion of this truth that people

have never imagined expressions m ore tender , than to c all one my

life, my heart, my foul; it is as thoug h one should call him myself

The re is always som ething hyperbolical in these expr essions.



51

I am very far from saying the same things of this

other precept, which people regard as almost synon-imous with the first. Love ye one another, and the

law is accomplished. This is truly admirable, bothfor its form and substance. I t is also as conforma-ble to our nature as the other is repugnant to it ; andit enounces perfectly a very profound truth. Effec-tively sentiments of benevolence being for us, un-der every imaginable relation, the source of all ourgood of every k ind, and the universal means of di-minishing and remedying all our evils as much aspossible, as long as we maintain them amongst our-selves the great law of our happiness is accomplish-ed, in as great a degree as possible.

I shall be accused perhaps of futility for the dis-tinction which I establish between two maxims, towhich nearly the same meaning has been commonlyattributed; but it will be wrong. I t is so differentto present to men as a rule of their conduct a generalprinciple, drawn from the recesses of their nature, orone repugnant to it, and it leads to consequences

so distant among themselves, that one must neverhave reflected on it at all not to have perceived allits importance. T o myself it appears such, that Icannot conceive that two maxims so dissimilarshould have emanated from the same source ;* f

• I conclud e from hen ce that the expression of the one or the oth.ec

of these precepts, and perhaps of both, has been altered by men, who

d id not really un derstand either. I shall often h ave occasion to ma kereflections of this kind, because they are applicable to many of these

maxims which pass from age to age.

f Th e first is from Leviticus, chap. xix. Th e other is from the gos-

pel of St. John , chap. xiii. See the remark in the question s on the mi-

racles, V oltaire vol. 60, page 186. You will be astonished to see

that Vo ltaire con sidered these two m axims as identical.







5%

this alone a compound of weakness and of strength,

of wants and means, of suffering and power, of pas-sion and action, and consequently of rights and du-

ties. It is this we are now to explain.

I commence by noticing that, conformably to the

idea I have before given of the willing faculty, 1

will give indifferently the name of desire or of will

to all the acts of th is faculty, from the propensity

the most instinctive to the determination the moststud ied; and I request then that it may be recollect-

ed that it is so lely because w e perform such acts

that we have the ideas of persona lity and of 'proper-

ty . N o w every desire is a wa nt, and a ll our wants

consist in a desire of some sort; thus the same in-

tellectual acts, emanating from our willing faculty,

which cause us to acquire the distinct and complete

idea of our personality, our self, and of the exclu-

sive property of all its modes, are also those which

render us susceptible of jvante, and which constitute

all our wa nts. T h is w ill appear very clearly.

In the first place every desire is a want. T h is

is not doubtful, since a sensible being, wh o desiresany thing whatsoever, has from this circumstance

alone a want to possess the thing desired, or rather,

and more generally we may s ay , that he experien-

ces the want of the cessation of his d esir e; for eve-

ry desire is in itself a suffering as long as it con-

tinues. It does not become an enjoyment but w hen

it is satisfied, that is to say when it ceases.I t is difficult at first to be lieve that every desire

is a suffering; because there are certain desires, the

birth of which in an animated being is always, or

almost always, accompanied by a sentiment of well



55

being. T h e desire of eating for exam ple, that of

the physical pleasures of love, are generally in anindividual the resu lts of a state of health, of which

he has a consciousness that is agreeable to him.

M an y others are in the same ca se ; but this circum-

stance must not dece ive us . T h ese are the simul-

taneous manners of being of which we have spoken

in our logic,* which mingle themselves with the

ideas, come at the same time with them and alterthem ; but which m ust not be confounded with them

wh ich consequently it is necessary well to distinguish

from desire in itself. For first, they do not always

co-exist with it. W e have often the want of eating,

and even a violent inclination to the act of reproduc-

tion, in consequence of sick ly dispositions, and with-

out any sentiment of w ell be ing ; and it is the same ofother exam ples which might be chosen. Sec ond ly,

were this not to happen, it would not be less true

that the sentiment of well being is distinct and dif-

ferent from that of des ire ; and that that of desire is

alw ays in itself a torment, a painful sentiment as

long as it continues. T h e proof is , that it is alwa ys

the desire of being delivered from that state, what-soever it is , in which we actually are ; wh ich conse-

quently appears actually a state of uneasiness, more

or less displeasing. N o w in this sense a manner

of being is always in effect what it appears to be,

since it consists only in what it appears to be to him

wh o experiences it : a desire then is alw ays a suf-

fering either ligh t or profound, according to its force,aud consequently a want of some kind . It is not

* See logic , v ol. 3d, chap. 6th. page 315, and following.



56

necessary for the truth of this that this desire should

be founded on a real want, that is to say on a justsentiment of our true interest; for, whether well or

ill founded, while it ex ists it is a manner of being

felt and incommodious, and from which w e have con-

sequently a want of being delivered. T h u s every

desire is a want.

But moreover all our wants, from the most pure-

ly mechanical to the most spiritualized, are but thewant of satisfying a desire. Hunger is but a desire

of eating, or at least of relief from the state of lan-

gour wh ich we experience; as the want, the thirst

of riches, or that of glory, i s but the desire of posses -

sing these advantages, and of avoiding indigence or

obscurity.

It is true, however, that if we experience desireswithout real wants, we have also often real wants

without experiencing desires; in this sense that

many things are often very necessary to our greater

well being, and even to our preservation, without

our perceiving it, and consequently without our de-

siring them. T h u s for exam ple, it is certain that I

have the greatest interest* or if you please want,

that certain combinations, of which I have no sus-

picion, should not take place within me, and from

wh ich it w ill result that I sha ll have a fever this

eve nin g; but to speak exactly I have not at present

the effective want of counteracting these injurious

combinations, since I am not aware of their exis-tence ; whereas I shall really have the actual want

of being delivered from the fever, wh en I shall suffer

the anguish of it, and because I shall suffer the an-

guish of i t ; for if the fever were not of a nature to





58

in any manner precede, and which consequently are

not the effect of any desire. Of this number areparticularly all those which are necessary to the

commencement, maintenance and continuation of

our life. But first it is permitted to doubt whether

at first, and in the origin, they have not taken

place in virtue of certain determinations or ten-

dencies really felt by the living molecules, which

would make them still the effect of a will moreor less obscure; unless it be by the all powerful

effect of habit or by the preponderance of certain

sentiments more general and predominant, that they

become insensible to the animated individual, that

is to say, to all results of the combinations which

they operate, and finally if it is not for this reason,

that they are entirely withdrawn from the empire ofperceptible will, or from its sentiment of desiring

and willing. T h es e are things of which it is impos-

sible for us to have complete certitude; besides these

movements, vulgarly and with reason named invol-

untary, are certainly the cause and the basis of our

living existence : but they furnish us no means of

modifying, vary ing, succouring, defending, amelio-rating it, &c. T h e y cannot therefore properly be

placed in the rank of our means, unless we mean to

say that our existence itself is our first mean, w hich

is very true but very insignificant; for it is the da-

tum without which w e should have nothing to say ,

and certainly should say nothing. T h u s this first

observation does not prevent its being true that our

will directs all our actions, which can be regarded

as the means of supplying our wants.



59

The movements of which we have just spoken

are not the only ones in us which are involuntary.They are all continued or at least very frequent,and in general regular. But there are others invol-

untary also, which are more rare, less regular, andwhich depend more or less on a convulsive andsickly state. The involuntary movements of this se-cond species cannot, any more than the others, be re-

garded as making part of our individual power.Generally they have no determinate object. Ofteneven they have grievous and pernicious effects forus, and which take place although foreseen, and con-trary to our desires. The ir independence of ourwill then does not prevent our general observationfrom being jus t. T h u s , putting aside these two

species of involuntary movements, we may say withtruth, that our desires have the effect eminently re-markable of directing all our actions, at least allthose that really merit this name, and which are forus the means of procuring enjoyments or knowledge,which knowledge is also an enjoyment; since theseare things desired and useful. And we must com-prehend in the number of these actions our intellec-tual operations; for they also are for us means, andeven the most important of a ll, since they direct theemployment of all the others.

Now to complete the proof that the acts of ourwill are the source of all our means, without excep-

tion, it only remains to show that the actions sub-mitted to our will are absolutely the only means wehave of supplying our wants, or oth erwise satisfy-ing our desires; that is to say, that our physical and



60

mural force, and the use we make of them, compose

exactly all our riches.To recognize this truth in all its details, it would

Be necessary that we should have already followed

all the consequences of the different employm ents

of our faculties, and to have seen their effect in the

formation of all that we ca ll our riches of every kin d.

N o w it is this we have not yet heen able to do, and

which we will do in the sequel: it will even be aconsiderable part of our study . But from this mo-

ment we may clearly see that nature, in placing man

in a corner of this vast universe, in which he appears

but as an imperceptible and ephem eral insect, has

given him nothing as his own but his individual

and personal faculties, as well physical as intellec-

tual. T h is is his sole endowment, his only originalwealth , and the only source of all w hich he procures

for himself. In effect, if even we should admit that

all those beings, by which we are surrounded, have

been created for u s ; (and assured ly it needs a great

dose of vanity to imagine it, or even to believe it,)

if, I say, this were so, it would not be less true that

we could not appropriate one of those beings, nor

convert the smallest parcel of them to our use, but

by our action on them and by the em ployment of our

faculties to this effect.

Not to take examples but in the physical line.—

A field is no means of subsistance but as we cul-

tivate it. Game is not useful to us unless w e pur-sue it. A lake, a river, furnish us no nourishment,

but because we fish therein. W ood or any other

spontaneous production of nature is of no use what-

ever, until we have fashioned it, or at least gathered



61

i t T o pa t an extreme case, were we to suppose an

alimen tary m atter to hav e fallen into our mou ths rea-dy prepared, still it would be necessary, in order to

assimilate it to our substan ce, tha t we should m as-

ticate, swallow and digest it. N o w all these oper-

ations are so many employments of our individual

force. Certa inly if ever man has been doomed to

labour, it was from the date of the day in which he

was created a sensible being, and having membersand organs; for it is not even possible to conceive

that any being whatsoever could become useful to

him without some action on his part, and we may

well say, not only as the good and adm irable L a

Fontaine, that labour is a treasure; but even that

labour is our only treasure, and this treasure is very

great because it surpasse s all our wan ts. T h e proof

is , that like the fortune of a rich man whose revenue

surpasses his expenses, the funds of the enjoyment

and power of the human species, takeu in mass, are

always sufficient although often and even always

very badly husbanded.

W e sha ll soon see all this with greater deyelope-m ents, and we shall see at the same time that the ap-

plication of our force to different beings is the sole

cause of the value of all those which have a value

for us, and consequently is the source of all value;

as the property of this same force which necessarily

appertains to the individual wh o is endow ed w ith

it, and who directs it by his will, is the source of allpro pe rty. B u t from this time I thin k w e m ay safe-

ly conclude, that in the employment of our faculties,

in our volun tary actions, consists all the pow er we

have; and that consequently the acts of our will



62

which direct these actions, are the source of all our

means, as we have seen already that they constituteall our wants. Thus this fourth faculty, and last

mode of our sensibility, to which we owe the com-

plete ideas of persona lity and property, is that which

renders us proprietors of wants and means, of passion

and ofaction, of suffering and of power. From these

ideas arise those of riches and poverty.

Before proceeding further le t us see in what theselast consist.

S E C T I O N F O U R T H .

From the faculty of willing arise also the ideas of riches and of poverty.

If we had not the distinct consciousness of our self,

and consequently the ideas of personality and of pro-

perty, we should have no wants. All these arise

from our desires. An d if w e had not wants, we

should not have the ideas of riches and of poverty;because to be rich is to possess the means of supply-

ing our wants, and to be poor is to be deprived of

these means. An useful or agreeable thing , that is

to say a thing of which the possession is an article of

riches, is never but a means proximate or remote, of

satisfying a want or a desire of some ki n d ; and if

w e had neither wants nor desires, wh ich are thesame things, we should have neither the possession

nqr the privation of the means of satisfying them.

To take these things in this generality, we per-

ceive plain ly that our riches are not composed solely



63

of a precious stone, or of a mass of metal, of an es-

tate in land, or of an utensil, or even of a store ofeatables, or a habitation. T h e kno wled ge of a law

of nature, the habit of a technical process, the use

of a language by which to communicate with those

of our kind, and to increase our force by theirs, or at

least not to be disturbed by theirs in the exercise of

our own, the enjoyment of conventions established,

and of institutions created in this spirit, are so farthe riches of the individual and of the species: for

these are so many things useful towards increas-

ing our means, or at least for the free use of them,

that is to say, according to our w ill, and with the

least possible obstacle, whether on the part of men

or of nature, which is to augment their power, their

energy, and their effect.

W e call all these goods; for by contraction we

give the name of goods to all those things thai con-

tribute to do us good, to augment our well being, to

render our manner of being good or better; that is to

say, to all those things, the possession of which is a

good N o w whence come all those goods? W ehave already summarily seen, and we shall see it

more in detail in the sequ el. It is from the jus t,

that is to say from the legitimate, employment,

according to the laws of nature, which we make

of our faculties. W e do not often find a diamond,

but because we search for it with intelligence; we

have not a mass of metal, but because we have stu-died the means of procuring it. W e do not possess

a good field or a good utensil, but because we have

well recognised the properties of the first material,

and rendered easy the manner of making it useful.



64

W e have 110 provision w hatsoever, or even a shelter,

but because w e have simplified the operations neces-sary for forming the one, or for constructing the

other. It is then alw ay s from the employment of

our faculties that all these goods arise.

Now all these goods have amongst us, to a certain

point, a value determinate and fixed. T h e y even

hav e alw ays two. T h e one is that of the sacrifices

which their acquisition costs us ; the other that ofthe advantages which their possession procures us.

W h en L fabricate an utensil for my use, it has for

me the double value of the labour which it costs me

in the first place, and of that wliich it will save me

in the sequel. I make a bad employment of my

force, if its construction costs me more labour than

its possesion will save me. It is the same, if instead

of making this utensil, I buy it, if the things I give

in return have cost me more labor than the utensil

would have cost me in making it, or if they would

have saved me more labour than this w ill, I make

a bad bargain, I lose more than I gain, I relinquish

more than I acquire. T h is is evident. In the ac-

quisition of any other good than an instrument of

labour, the thing is not so clear. H ow ever, since

it is certain that our physical and moral faculties are

our only original riches; that the employment of

these faculties, labour of some kind, is our only pri-

mitive treasure; and that it is always from this em-

ployment that all those things which we call good*arise, from the most necessary to the most purely

agreeable, it is certain, in like manner, that all

these goods are but a representation of the labour

which has produced them 5 and that if they have a



65

value, or even two distinct ones, they can only de,

rive these values from that of the labour from whichthey emanate. Labour itself then has a v a lu e ; it

has then even two different ones, for no being can

communicate a property wh ich it has not. Y es la-

bour has these two values, the one natural and ne-

cessary, the other more or less conventional and

eventual. T h is w ill be seen very clearly.

An animated being , that is to say sensib le and

w illing , has wants un ceasingly reproduced, to the

satisfaction of which is attached the continuation of

his existence. H e cannot provide for them but by

the employment of his faculties, of his m ea ns; and if

this employment (his labour) should cease during a

certain time to meet these wants, his existencewou ld end. T h e mass of these wants, is then the

natural and necessary measure of the mass of la-

bour which he can perform whilst they cause them-

selve s to be fel t; for if he em ploys this m ass of la-

bour for his direct and immediate use it must suffice

for his service. If he consecrates it to another, th is

other must at least do for him, during this time,wh at he would have done for himself. If he em-

plo ys it on objects of an utility les s imm ediate and

more remote, this utility, wh en realised , must at

leas t replace the objects of an urgent utility, which

lie will have consumed whilst he was occupied with

those le ss necessary. T h u s this sum of indispen-

sable wants, or rather that of the value of the ob-jects necessary to supply them, is the natural and

necessary measure of the value of the labour per-

formed in the same time. T h is value is that wh ich



66

the labour inevitably cos ts. T h is i s the first of the

two values, the existence of which we have an-nounced ; it is purely natural and necessary.

The second value of our labour, that of what it

produces, is from its nature ev en tu al : I t is often

conventional and always more variable than the

first. It is eventual, for no man in comm encing any

labour whatever, even when it is for his o wn ac-

count, can entirely assure himself of its product; athousand circumstances, which do not depend on

him and which often be cannot foresee, augment or

diminish this product. I t is often conv ention al;

for when this same man undertakes a labour for an-

other, the quantity of its product, which will result

to himself, depends on that which the other sha ll

have agreed to give him in return for his pa ins,

whether the convention were made before the ex e-

cution of the labour, as with day labourers or hire-

lin gs , or does not take place until after the labour

has been perfected, as with merchants and manufac-

turers. F in ally this second value of labour is more

variable than its natural and necessary value ; be-cause it is determined not by the wants of him who

performs the labour, but by the wants and means of

him who profits from it, and it is influenced by a

thousand concurrent causes, which it is not yet time

to developc.

But even the natural value cf labour is not of an

absolute fixture: for first the wants of a man in agiven time, even those which may be regarded as

the most urgent, are susceptible of a certain lat-

itude ; and the flexibility of our nature is such that

these wants are restrained or extended considerably



by the em pire of w ill and the effect of ha bit. Se -

cond ly, by the influence of favourable circumstances,of a mild climate, of a fertile soil, these wants may

be largely satisfied for a given time by the effect of

very little labou r, w hile in less happy circum stances,

under an inclement sky, on a sterile soil, greater ef-

forts will be requisite to provide for them. T h u s , ac-

cording to the case, the labou r of the same m an,

during the same time, must procure him a greater orsmaller number of objects, or of objects more or less

difficult to be acquired, solely that he may continue

to exist.

By this small number of general reflections we see

then, that the ideas of riches and poverty arise from

our wants, that is to say from our desires, for riches

consist in the possession of means of satisfying our

wants , and poverty in their non-possession. W e

call these means goods, because the y d o us good.

They are all the product and the representation of a

certain quan tity of lab o u r; and they give birth in

us to the idea of value, which is but a comparative

idea ; because they have all two values, that of thegoods which they cost and that of the goods which

they produce. Since these goods are but the rep re-

sentation of the labour which has produced them, it

is then from labo ur they derive these two va lue s.

It has them then itself. In effect labour has neces-

sarily these two value s. T h e second is even tual,

most generally conventional, and always very varia-ble. The first is natural and necessary; it is not

however of an absolute fixture, but it is always com-

prehended within certain limits.





69

valued by itself, and the unit is of the same kin d as

the quantities calculated.Thirdly, in fine we have seen that, for a calcula-

tion to be ju st and certain , the unit must be deter-

mined in a manner the most rigorous, and absolute-

ly invariable.f H ere unh appily we are obliged to

acknowledge that our unit of value is subject to va-

riations, although comprehended within certain lim-

its. It is an evil we cannot remedy, since it is de-

rived from the very nature of an animated being,

from his flexibility an d his sup plen ess. W e mu st ne-

ver dissemb le this evil. It was essential to recog-

nize it. B ut it ough t not to prevent us from m akin g

combinations of the effects of our faculties, in taking

the necessary precautions; for since the variations ofour sensible n ature are com prehended w ithin cer-

tain limits, we can always apply to them considera-

tions drawn from the theory of the limits of num-

bers. But this observation ought to teach us how

very delicate and scientific is the calcu lation of all

moral and economical quantities, how much precau-

tion it requires, and how imprudent it is to wish toapp ly to it indiscreetly the rigorous scale of nu m-

bers. However it be, as this rapid glance on the

ideas of riches and poverty, derived from the senti-

ment of our w an ts, lead s us to speak sum m arily of

all our go od s, w e ought not to p ass in sjlence th e

greatest of all , that wh ich com prehends them all ,

without which none of them would exist, which wemay call the only good, of a willing being, Liberty.

It merits a separate article.

(f) See vol. 3d, chap. 9th, page 500, and following-.



SECTION FIFTH.

Froih the faculty of willing arise likewise the ideas of liberty andconstraint.

Nothing would be more easy than to inspire someinterest in all generous souls, by commencing thischapter with a kind of hymn to. this first of all the

goods of sensible nature, Liberty. But these explo-sions of sentiment, have no object but to electrizeone's self; or to excite the feelings of those whomwe address. JSTow a man who sincerely devoteshimself to the search of truth, is sufficiently animat-ed by the end he proposes, and counts on the samedisposition in all those by whom he wishes to beread. T he love of what is good and true is a realpassion. This passion is I believe sufficiently novel,at least it seems to me that it could not exist in allits force, but since it has been proved by reasonings,and by facts, that the happiness of man, is propor-tionate to the mass of his intelligence, and that the

one and the other does and can increase indefinitely.But since these two truths have been demonstrated,this new passion which characterizes the epoch inwhich we live is not rare, whatever may be said ofit, and it is as energetic and more constant than anyother. Let us not then seek to excite but to satisfy it,and let us speak of liberty as coolly, as if this word

itself did not put in motion all the powers of the soul.I say that the idea of liberty arises from the facul-

ty of willing; for, with Locke, I understand by li-berty, the power of executing our will, of actingconformably with our desire. And I maintain, that





al l the faculties, and thereby of creating all the

means of enjoyment and pow er of the sensible being,when no extraneous force restrains him, that is to

say when the willing being is free.

Liberty, taken in this its most general sense, (and

the only reasonable one) signifying the power of

execu ting our w ill, is then the remedy of all our ills ,

the accomplishment of a ll our desires , the satisfac-

tion of all our wants, and consequently the first ofall our goods, that w hich produces and compre-

hends them all. It is the same thing as our hap-

piness. It has the same limits, or rather our hap-

piness cannot have either more or less extension

than our liberty ; that is to say than our pow er of

satisfying our desires. Constraint on the contrary,

whatsoever it be, is the opposite of liberty; it is the

cause of all our sufferings, the source of all our ills.

It is even rigorously our only evil, for every ill is

alw ays the contrariety of a desire. W e should as-

suredly have none, if we were free to deliver our-

selves from it whenever we should wish; it is truely

the Oromazis and Orismanes, the good and the evilprinciple.

T h e constraint from which we suffer, or rather

which we suffer, since it is itself which constitutes

all suffering, may be of different natures, and is sus-

ceptible of different degrees. It is direct and imme-

diate , or only mediate and indirect. It comes to us

from animate or from inanimate beings, it is invinci-ble or may be surmounted. T hat which is the effect of

physical forces, which enchains the action of our fa-

culties, is immediate, while that which is the result

of different combinations of our understanding, or of



73

certain moral considerations, is but indirect and me-

diate, although very real likewise. T h e one andthe other, according to circumstances, may be insur-mountable, or may be susceptible of yielding to ourefforts.

In all of these different cases, we have differentmethods of conducting ourselves, to escape from thesuffering of constraint, to effect the accomplishment

of our desires, in a word to arrive at satisfaction, athappiness. For once again I say these three thingsare one and the same Of these different methodsof arriving at the only end of all our efforts as of allour desires, of all our wants, as of all our means, weshould always take those which are most capable ofconducting us to it. T his is likewise our only du ty,that which comprehends all others. T h e mean offulfilling this only duty, is in the first place, if ourdesires are susceptible of satisfaction, to study the na-ture of the obstacles opposed, and to do all that de-pends on us to surmount them ; secondly, if ourdesires cannot be accomplished, but by submitting

to other evils, that is to say by renouncing otherthings, which we desire, to balance the inconve-niences, and decide for the le ast ; thirdly, if thesuccess of our desires is entirely impossible, wemust renounce them, and withdraw without mur-muring within the limits of our power. T hus allis reduced to the employment of our intellectual

faculties: F irs t, in properly estimating our wants,then in extending our means, as far as possible; final-ly in submitting to the necessity of our nature, tothe invincible condition of our existence.





75

be ing ; it can ad m it of no com pensation, and dep rives

him of the disposal of what he might receive inreturn.

T h e s e ge ne ral notion?, suffice for the mom ent. I

w ill ad d bu t one reflection. I t is commonly said

that man, entering a state of society, sacrifices a

portion of his liberty to secure the rem aind er. Af-

ter what we have just said, this expression is not

exact. I t do es not give a ju st ide a either of thecause or of the effect, nor even of the origin of human

societies. I n the first pla ce , man neve r lives com-

pletely insulated; he cannot exist thus, at least in

hi9 first infancy. T h u s the state of society does no t

commence for him on a fixed day , or from pre m ed itated

de sign ; i t is established insensibly, and by deg rees.

Seco ndly , man in associating himself more and m ore,witii his fellow beings, and in daily connecting him-

self more closely with them, by tacit or express con-

ventions, does not calculate on diminishing his an-

terior libe rty, o r on w eak enin g the total pow er of

executing his w ill , wh ich he previously ha d. H e

ha s alwa ys in view its increase. If he reno unces

certain modes of employing it, it is that he may beassisted, or at least not opp osed, in other uses w hich

he may wish to make of i t , and which he judges

more im portant to him. H e consents that his w ill

should be a little restrained, in certain cases, by that

of his fellow beings: but it is that it may be much

m ore powerful over a ll other being s, and even on

these themselves on other occasions, so that the total

mass of power, or of liberty, which he possesses

should be thereby augm ented. T h is I think is the

idea w hich should be formed of the effect an d the











80

duties is subordinate to that of rights, as that of

means is to that of w ants, since we can conceiverights without duties, as in our first hypothesis; andin the second there are duties only because there arewants, and that they consist only in the general du-ty of satisfying these wants.

The better to convince ourselves of these twotruths, let us make a third supposition: let us place

this being, organised as we are in relation with otherbeings, feeling and willing like himself, and actingalso in virtue of their will, but which are such thathe cannot correspond fully with them, nor perfectlycomprehend their ideas and their motives. Theseanimated beings have their rights also, proceedingfrom their wants: but this operates no change inthose of the being whose destiny we investigate. H ehas the same rights as before, since he has the samewants. He has, moreover, the same general dutyof employing his means so as to procure the satisfac-tion of his wants. T hus he has the duty of conduct-ing himself with those beings which show themselves

to be feeling and willing, otherwise than with those,which appear to him inanimate; for as they act inconsequence of their will it is his duty to conciliateor subjugate that will in order to bring them tocontribute to the satisfaction of his desires, and as heis supposed incapable of communicating completelywith them, and consequently of forming any conven-

tion with them, he has no other means of directingtheir w ill towards the accomplishment of his desires,and the satisfaction of his wants, than immediate per-suasion or direct violence. And he employs, andought to employ, the one and the other according to



8 i

circumstances, without an y other consideration than

of producing the effects he desires.In truth this being, organized as we are, is such,

that a v iew of sensib le nature inspires in him tke

desire to sympathize with it* that it should enjoy of

his enjoym ents and suffer of his sufferings. T h is

is a new want which it produces in h im, and w e

shall see in the sequel that it is not one of those of

which he ought to endeavour to rid himself, for it is

useful for him to be submitted to it. H e ought then

to satisfy it as the others, and consequently he i s un-

der the duty of sparing to himself the pain which the

sufferings of sensible beings cause him, so far as his

other wants do not oblige him to support this pain.

This is still a consequence of the general duty ofsatisfying all his desires.

T h e picture which w e h ave just drawn according

to theory is the simple exposition of our relations

with animals taken in general, which relations are

afterwards modified in particular cases according to

the degree of kn ow ledg e w e have of their sentiments,

and according to the relations of habit and reciprocalbenevolence wh ich take place between us and them,

as between us and our fellow beings. I believe this

picture to be a very faithful representation of these

re lations ; for it is equ ally remote from that sentimen-

tal exaggeration which would make criminal in us

any destruction whatever of these an imals, and from

the systematic barbarity which would make us con-

sider as legitimate their most useless sufferings, or

even persuade us that the pain which a sensible

being manifests, is not pain when this sensible being

is not made exactly like ourselves.







84

in all times, in which our intimate nature shall not

have changed.Let us now make a fourth hypothesis which is that

in which we are a ll placed. Let us suppose the ani-mated being we are now considering in contact withother beings like himself. Th ese beings have wants,and consequently rights, as he has, but this makesno change in his. H e has always as m any rights

as wants, and the general duty of satisfying thesewants. If he could not communicate completelywith these beings like himself, and make conven-tions with them, he would be in respect to them inthe state in which we all are, and in which as wehave just seen we have reason to be in regard to theother animals.

Will any one say this is a state of war? He willbe wrong. T h is would be an exaggeration. T h estate of w ar is tha t in which we iucessantly seek thedestruction of one another; because we cannot as-sure ourselves of our own preservation, but by theannihilation of our enemy. W e are not in such arelation, but with those animals whose instinct con-stantly leads them to hurt us . I t is not so as to theothers; even those which we sacrifice to our wants,we attack only inasmuch as these w ants, more or lesspressing, force us. There are some of them whichlive with us in a state of peaceable subjection, othersin perfect indifference. W ith all we wound their

will only because it is contrary to ours, and not forthe pleasure of wounding it. There is even in regardto all this general necessity of sympathising wkhsensible nature, which pains us at the sight of theirsuffering, and which unites us more or less with them.



85

This state then is not essentially a state of hostility.

I t frequently becomes such: but this is by accident.It is essentially the state of alienage (d'etrangete)if we may thus express ourselves. I t is that of be-ings, willing and acting separately, each for his ownsatisfaction, without being able to explain themselvesmutually, or to make conventions for the regulationof the cases in which their wills are opposed.

Such, as we have said, would be the relations ofman with his fellow men, if his means of communi-cating w ith them were very imperfect. He wouldnot be precisely for them an enemy, but an indiffer-ent stranger. His relations would even then be sof-tened by the necessity of sympathising, which is

much stronger in him in the case of animals of hisown species; and we must still add to this necessitythat of love, which strengthens it extremely in manycircumstances, for love has not perfect enjoymentwithout mutual consent, without a very lively sym-pathy; and when this sympathy, necessary to thefull satisfaction of the desire, has existed, it frequent-

ly gives birth to habits of good will, from whencearises the sentiment of fraternity, which produces inits turn ties more durable and more tender.

Nevertheless, in this state quarrels are frequent;and , properly speaking , justice and injustice do notyet exist. T h e rights of the one do not affect therights of the other. Every one has as many rights

as wants, and the general duty of satisfying thesewants without any foreign consideration. Theredoes not begin to be any restrictions on these rightsand this duty , or rather on the manner of fulfillingthis duty, but at the moment in which means of mu-



86

taal understanding are established; and consequent,

ly conventions tacit or formal. The re solely is thebirth of justice and injustice, that is to say of the

balance between the rights of one and the rights of

another, which necessarily were equal till this in-

stant. T h e Greeks who called Ceres Legislatrix

were wrong. It is to grammar, to language, th ey

ought to have given this title. T h ey had placed the

origin of law s, and of jus tice, at the moment in whichmen have amongst them relations more stable, and

conventions more numerous. B ut they ought to have

remounted to the birth of the first conventions, infor-

mal or exp licit. In every w ay the duty of moderns

is to penetrate further and more profoundly than the

ancients. Hobbes , then, was certainly right in esta-

blishing the foundation of all justice on conversa-tions ; but he was wrong in say ing before, that the

anterior state is rigorously and absolutely a state of

war, and that this is our true instinct, and the wish

of our nature. W e r e this the case we should never

have withdraw n from it .* A false principle has led

him to an excellent consequence. It has alw ays ap-

peared to me singularly remarkable, that this philos-

opher, who of all men who have ever written is per-

haps the most recommendable for the rigorous con-

• W e must howev er admit that nature, or the order of thin gs, such as

they are, in creating the rights of every animated individual, equal and

opposed to those of another, has virtually and indirectly created the

state of w ar ; and that i t is art which has caused it to cease, or at least

has frequently suspended it amongst us, by conventions. Th is still

agrees with our general princip le, that we create nothin g; were there

not natural and necessary wars, there never would have been any con-

ventional and artificial one s. T he invincibly permanent state of the

relations of man with animals of other specie s, is w hat disposes him most

to treat his fellow beings in an hostile manner.



87

catenation and close connexion of his ideas, should

not however have arrived at this fine conception ofthe necessity for conventions, the source of all ju s-

tice, but, by starting from a false or at least an inex-

act principle, (a state of war the natural st a te ); and

that from the just and profound sentiment of the

wan t of peace among men, he has been led to a false

idea the necessity of servitude. W h en w e see such

exam ples, how ought we to tremble in enouncing anopinion?*

Y et I cannot help believing that which I have just

exp lained to be true.

It seem s to me proved , that from our faculty of w il-

ling proceed the ideas of rights and duties; that

from our wants proceed all our rights, and from our

means all our duties ; that we have always as many

rights as wants, and the sing le duty of providing

for these w an ts; that the wants and the rights of

other sensible beings, whether of our own or a dif-

ferent species, do not affect ours; that our rights do

not begin to be restrained, but at the moment of the

birth of conventions; that our general duty is notchanged for this as to its foundation, but only to the

manner of fulfilling i t; and that it is at this_ moment

alone, that justice and injustice properly so called

commence.

It is not yet the time to develope all the conse-

quences of these principles, but it is time to termi-.

nate this lon g preliminary, by the reflections to whichit gives rise.

* This latte r error of Hobbes has not, however, been produced in hisexcellent head, but by the too energetic impression made by the un-happiness of his country ; which unhappiness was caused by efforts,the object of which in their origin was resistance to oppression.



88

S E C T I O N S E V E N T H .

Conclusion.

T h e general considerations on which we have just

dwelt, are those which first present themselves to

our understanding when we begin to observe our

w ill . H ow ever little w e reflect thereon, w e see firstthat it is a mode of our sensib ility, wh ich arises from

a judgment, clear or confused, formed on what we

feel, that if our pure and simple sensibility begins to

give us an obscure idea of our self, and of the pos-

session of its affections, this admirable mode of our

sensibility, which we call will, by the resistance it

exp erien ces, causes us to know beings different fromus, and completes our idea of individuality, of per-

sonality, and property, exclusive of whatsoever af-

fects u s .* I t is not les s visible, that this faculty of

w illing is the source of all our w ants, and of all our

miseries ; for an indifferent being would be impas-

sive ; and it is equa lly manifest that this same facul-

ty, by the wonderful power it has of putting our or-gans into action, and of giving motion to our mem-

bers, is also the source of all our means and of all our

resource s; for all our pow er consists in the em ploy-

ment of our physical and intellectual forces.

I t follows from this, that every animated being , in

virtue of the law s of h is nature, has the right of satisfy,

iug all his desires, which are his wants, and the sole

duty of employing his means in the best possible

• This truth has been developed vol. 1st. chapter of existence, and

in different parts of the tw o other volum es.





90

power of every one, by making that of others concur

with it, and by preventing them from reciprocallyhurting one another.

All these first ideas are good and sound, at least

I think s o, and begin already to throw some light on

the subject w ith which w e are occupied; but they are

far from being sufficient. T h e y do not sufficiently

inform us what are the numerous results of the em-

ployment of our force, of our labour, in a w ord of ouractions, and what new interests their combinations

produce among us, nor what are the different senti-

ments w hich germinate from our first desires, or what

they have useful or injurious to the happiness of all

and every on e: nor, finally, what is the best possi-

ble direction of these actions and sentiments. T h ese

are, however , so many subjects necessary to be treat-ed of in order to give a complete history of the will

and its effects; and it is there w e find again the divi-

sion w e announced. I t is requisite then to enter-

into further d etails, and I w ill now begin to speak of

our actions.



OF OUR ACTIONS.







mals of their species similar to themselves, and with

whom they can fully correspond.These preliminaries were necessary, that the

reader might readily follow the series of ideas, andclearly perceive the connexion, of this second sectionof the elements of ideology with that which precedesit. But it would be inconvenient, in a treatise on thewill, to say more of beings not endowed with this

intellectual faculty; and it would not be less super-fluous, having the human species principally in view,to occupy ourselves longer with beings that should besentient and willing, but living insulated,

M an cannot exist th us ; this is proved by the fact,for we have never seen in any corner of the worldan animal in the human form, however brutish hemight be, which has no kind of relation with anyother animal of his own species: that is not less de-monstrated by reasoning. Fo r such an individual,strictly speaking, may exist although very misera-bly, yet certainly he could not reproduce himself.

T hat the species may be perpetuated, it is indispen-sable that the two sexes should un ite; it is even ne-cessary that the infant, produced by their union,should receive for alon g time the cares of his parents,or at least those of his mother. Now we are so form-ed that we have all, more or less, a natural and in-nate inclination to sympathy; that is to say we allexperience pleasure from sharing our impressions, our

affections, our sentiments, and those of our fellowcreatures. Perh aps this inclination exists amongstall animated beings; perhaps even it is in us fromthe origin a considerable part of that which so power-fully attracts the two sexes towards each other. What



is certain, is that it afterwards augments it prodi-

giou sly. It is then impossible that approximations,which our organization renders inevitable, should

not develope in us this natural disposition to sympa-

thy, fortify it by exercise, and establish amongst us

social and moral relations. M oreover, we are also

so organized, that we form judgments of that which

we experience, of that which we feel, of that which

we see, in a word of all which affects us; we dis-tinguish the parts, circumstances, causes and conse-

quences thereof; and this is to judge of it. It is then

impossible that we should not soon be aware of the

utility we may derive from the succour of our fellow

beings, from their assistance in our wants, from the

concurrence of their w ill , and of their force w ith ours,

a new reason why approximations, fortuitous at first,

should become durable and permanent between us;

this also is what takes place always, and every where.

It is this also which always, and every where, pro-

duces the admirable and wise invention of a lan-

guage more or les s perfect, but alw ays as appears,

more circum stantial, and more capable of detailed

explanations, than that of an y other animal. It is

then the social state, which is our natural state, and

that with which we ought alone to occupy ourselves.

I will not however in this place consider society

under a moral relation. I w ill not exam ine how it

developes, multiplies, and complicates, all our pas-

sions and affections; nor what are the numerous du-ties it imposes on us, nor whence arises for us the

fundamental obligation of respecting the conventions

on wh ich it rests, and without which it could not

subsist. T h es e are researches which wil l be the





m ultitude of mu tual relations which all arrange th em '

selves unde r one Df the th ree following classes : theyconsist either in rendering a service to receive a sal-

ary , or in bartering some article of me rchandize

against another^ or in executing some work in com-

mon . In th e tw o first cases the exch ange is m ani-

fest. In the third it is not less re a l; for when seve-

ral men unite, to labour in common, each makes a

sacrifice to the others of w ha t he could have don eduring the same time for his own particular utility;

and he receives , for an equ ivalen t, his pa rt of th e

common utility resulting from the common labour.

He exchanges one manner of occupying himself

against another, which becomes more advantageous

to him than the other wou ld have been. I t is true

then that society consists only in a continual succes-

sion of exchanges.

I do not pretend to say that men never ren de r g ra-

tuitous services. F a r from me be the idea of den y-

ing benevolence, or of banish ing it from their h e a r t s ;

but I say it is not on this that all the progress of

society reposes, and even that the happy consequen-ces of this amiable virtue are much more important

un der a m oral relation ,* of which we are not at this

time speaking, than under the economical relation

wh ich now occupies us . I ad d that if we urge the

sense of the word exchange, and if we wish, as we

ought, to take it in all the extent of its signification,

we may say with justice that a benefit is still anexchange, in which one sacrifices a portion of one's

property, or of one's time, to procure a moral plea-

* In developing and exciting sympathr.



8

sure, very lively and very sweet, that of obliging, OP

to exem pt oneself from a pain very afflicting, thesight of suffering; exactly as we employ a sum of

money to procure an artificial fire work, wh ich di-

verts, or to free ourselves from something which in-

commodes us.

I t is equ ally true that an exchange is a transac-

tion in which the two contracting parties both gain*

Whenever I make an exchange freely, and withoutconstraint, it is because I desire, the, thing I receive

more than that I g iv e ; and , on the contrary, he with

whom I bargain desires what I offer more than that

wh ich he renders m e. W h en I g ive my labour for

wages it is because I esteem the wages more than

what I should have been able to produce by labour-

ing for myself; and he w ho pays me prizes more theservices I render him than what he gives me in re-

turn. W h en I give a measure of wheat for a measure

of wine, it is because 1 have a superabundance of

food and nothing to drink, and he with whom I treat

is in the contrary case. W h en several of us agree to

execute any labour whatsoever in common, whether

to defend ourselves against an en em y, to destroy

noxious animals, to preserve ourselves from the ra-

vages of the sea, of an inundation, of a contagion,

or even to make a bridge or a road, it is because

each of us prefers the particular utility which will

result to him from it, to what he would have been

able to do for himself during the same time. W eare all satisfied in a ll these species of exch an ges,

every one finds his advantage in the arrangement

proposed.





1 0

them, or their extent has been circumscribed; and

the lands wh ich they infected have become abun-dant pastures, or useful reservoirs. T h e asperities

of the mountains have been levelled ; their bases

have been appropriated to the wants of culture;

their parts least accessible, even to the regions of

eternal snow, have been destined to the nourishment

of numerous flocks. T h e forests which have been

permitted to remain have not continued impenetra-ble : T h e wild beasts wh ich retired to them have

been pursued and almost destroyed; the wood

which they produce has been withdrawn and pre-

served, the cutting them has even been subjected

to periods the most favourable for their reproduc-

tion ; and the care bestowed on them almost every

where is equivalent to a species of culture, andhas even been sometimes extended to a most diligent

culture. Thfc running waters which traverse all

these lands have, lik ew ise , not remained in their

primitive sta te: T h e great rivers, have been clear-

ed of all the obstacles which obstructed their

course; they have been confined by dikes and

quays, when this has been necessary; and their

banks have been disposed in such a manner as to

form commodious ports in convenient situations.—

The course o p streams less considerable has been

restrained for working mills and ether machines, or

diverted to irrigate declivities which needed it, and to

render them productive. On the who le surface ofthe land habitations have been constructed from dis-

tance to distance, in favourable positions, for the

use of those who cultivate the ground and attend to

its produce. T h ese habitations have been sur-





12

tribute to the satisfaction of our wants. W e admire

there above all things, a population really astonish-ing, all the individuals of which have the use of a

perfected langu age, have a reason developed to a

certain point, manners sufficiently softened, and an

industry sufficiently intelligent, to live in such great

numbers near to one another, and amongst whom in

general the poorest are succoured, the weakest de-

fended. W e remark, with still more surprise, thatmany "of these men have attained a degree of k now-

ledge very difficult to be acquired, that they possess

an infinity of agreeable or useful arts, that they are

acquainted with many of the laws of nature, of

which they know to calculate the effects, and turn

them to their advantage, that they have even had a

glimpse of the most difficult of all sciences, sincethey are able to distinguish, at least in part, the true

interests of the species in general, and in particular

those of their society, and its members ; that in con-

sequence they have conceived laws often just, insti-

tutions tolerably wise, and created a number of es-

tablishments proper for spreading and still increas-

ing instruction and inte lligen ce ; and finally, that not

content with having thus insured interior prosperity

they have explored the rest of the earth, established

relation! with foreign nations, and provided for

their security from without.

What an immense accumulation of means of well

be in g! W h a t prodigious results from that part ofthe labours of our predecessors, which has not been

immediately necessary to the support of their exis-

tence, and which has not been annihilated with

them ! T h e imagination even is aston ished ; and



13

the more so the more it reflects on it, for we should

consider that many of these works are little durable,that the most solid have been many times renewed

in the course of ages, and that there is scarcely one

which does not require continual care and mainte-

nance for its preserva tion. W e must observe that

of these wonders that which strikes our attention is

not the most astonishing; it is , as we say, the ma-

terial part. But the intellectual part, if we may soexpress ourselves, is still more surprising. It has

alw ay s been much more difficult to learn , and to dis -

cover, than to act in consequence of what we know.

The first steps, especially in the career of invention,

are of extreme difficulty. T h e labour which man

has been obliged to perform on his own intellectual

faculties, the immensity of the researches to which

he has been forced to have recourse, that of the ob-

servations he has been obliged to collect, have cost

him much more time and pains than all the works

he has been able to execute in consequence of the

progress of his understanding. F in a lly , w e must

remark that the efforts of men, for the ameliorationof their lot, have never been nearly as well directed

as they might have been, that always a great por-

tion of the human power has been employed in hin-

dering the progress of the other, that this progress

has been troubled and interrupted by all the great

disorders of nature and of s oc iet y; and that many

times perhaps all has been lost and destroyed,even the knowledge acquired, even the capacity

of re-commencing that which had been already

done. T hes e latter considerations might become

discouraging. But w e shall see elsewhere by how



14

many reasons we ought to be assured against

the fear of such misfortunes in future. W e willalso examine to what point the progress of thespecies, taken in mass, augments the happiness ofindividuals, a condition necessary to enable us torejoice at it. But at this moment let it suffice tohave shown the prodigious power which men ac-quire when united ; while separated they can with

difficulty sustain their miserable existence. Sm ith,if I am not mistaken, is the first who has remarkedthat man alone makes exchanges, properly speak-ing. See his admirable chapter, 4th of the 1stbook of his treatise on the wealth of nations. I re-gret that in remarking this fact he has not sought itscause with more curiosity. I t was not for the au-

thor of the theory of moral sentiments to regard asuseless a scrutiny of the operations of our under-standing. H is success and his faults ought to havecontributed equally to make him think the contrary.Notwithstanding this negligence his assertion is notthe less true. W e clearly see certain animals exe-

cute labours which concur to a common end, andwhich to a certain point appear to have been con-certed ; or figh t for the possession of what they desire,or supplicate to obtain it; but nothing announce?that they really make formal exchanges. T he rea-son, I think, is that they have not a language suffi-ciently developed to enable them to make express

conventions; and this, I think, proceeds (as I haveexplained in my second volume, article of interjec-tions,—and in my first, on the subject of signs,) fromtheir being incapable of sufficiently decomposingtheir ideas, to generalise, to abstract, and to express



13

them separately In detail, and in the form of a pro-

position ; whence it happens that those of which th eyare susceptible, are all particular, confused with

their attributes, and manifest themselves in mass by

interjections, which can explain nothing explicitly.

Man, on the contrary, who has the intellectual

means which are wanting to them is naturally led

to avail himself of them, to make conventions with

his fellow beings. T h e y make no exchanges, andhe does. Accordingly he alone has a real society ;

for comm erce is the whole of society, as labour is

the whole of riches.

W e can scarcely conceive at first that the great

effects, which w e have just described, have no other

cause than the sole reciprocity of services and the

multiplicity of exchan ges. H ow ever this continual

succession of exchanges has three very remarka-

ble advantages.

F irs t, the labour of several men united i9 more

productive, than that of the same men acting sepa-

rately. I s there a question of defence ? T e n men

will easily resist an enemy, who would have de-stroyed them all in attacking one after another. I s

a burden to be removed? T ha t of which the

weight would have opposed an invincible resistance

to the efforts of a single individual, yields immedi-

ately to those of several acting together. I s some

complicated work to be executed ? Sev eral things

are to be done simultaneously. One does one w hileanother does another, and all contribute to effect

wh at a single man could not have produced. One

rows while another steers, and a third casts the net



10

or harpoons the fish; and thus they attain a success

impossible without this concurrence.Secondly, our knowlege is our most precious ac-

quisition, since it i s this that d irects the em ploy-

m en t of our force, and renders it more fruitful, in

proportion to its greater soundness and extent.—

N o w no mail is in a situation to see every thing,

and it is much more easy to learn than to invent.—

But when several men communicate together, that

which one has observed is soon know n to all the

others, and it is sufficient amongst them that one is

found who is very ingenious, in order that precious

discoveries should promptly become the property of

all. Inte lligence then w ill increase much more ra-

pid ly, thau in a state of insulation, without calculat-ing that it may be preserved, and consequently ac-

cumulated from generation to generation; and still

without counting, what is clearly proved by the sttf-

dy-of our understanding, that the invention and em-

ployment of language and its signs, which would

not take place without society, furnish our minds

with many new means of combination and action.T hir d ly , and this still merits attention : when

several men labour reciprocally for one another

every ene can devote himself exclusively to the oc-

cupation for w hich he is fittest, whether from his

natural dispositions or from fortuitous circumstan-

ces ; and thus he will succeed better. T h e hunter,

the fisherman, the shepherd, the labourer, the arti-san,-—doing each a single thing—will become more

skilful, will lose less time, and have more success.

This is what is called the division of labour, which







CHAPTER II.

Of Production, or of the formation of our Riches.

It is so true that we cannot reason justly whilethe sense of words is not well determined, that it is

very important in political econom y, to know wh at

we ought to understand by the Word production, in

the language of this science. T h is question, wh ich

in itself is not without difficulty, has been still much

perplexed by the spirit of system and prejudice.—

It has been treated of by many able men, at thehead of whom we should place Turgot and Smith.

But, in my opinion, no one has thrown so much

light on it as Mr. Say, the author of the best book

I know on these matters, although he leaves still

something to be desired.

A ll the operations of nature and of art resolve

into transmutations, into changes, of form and ofplace.

N ot only w e never create any thing, but it is even

impossible for us to conceive what it is to create, if

we understand by this word to make something of

nothing; for we have never seen any being what-

soever arise from nothing, nor return to it. H en ce

this axiom, admitted by all antiquity, "nothing

comes from nothing, or returns to nothing,99*—

* It is very jus t. I shall believe in the possibility of a creation,when any body shall show m e on e, or even an annihilation.





niture, and who carry these instruments to those

who want them. E ac h add s a new utility to theutility already produ ced, consequently each is equ al-

ly a producer. A ll equally study the law s, which

govern the different beings to turn them to their pr o-

fit ; all em plo y, to pro duce the desired effect, th e

chemical and mechanical forces of nature . W h a t

we call her vegetative force is not of another nature,

it is but a series of elective attractions, of true chy-mical affinities w ith all the circum stances of w hich

we are undoubtedly not acquainted, but yet know

how to favor them by our lab ou rs, and to direct the se

in such a manner as to render them useful.

It is then erroneously that they have made agri-

cultu ral ind us try a thin g essentia lly different from

all the other branches of human industry, and in

which the action of nature intervenes in a particular

manner; accordingly they have always been gtteatly

emb arrassed to know precisely w ha t they shou ld

und erstand by agricultural indu stry, taken in this

sense. T h e y have comprised therein fishing an d

hun ting. B ut w hy not likewise com prehend theind ustry of erratic she ph erds ? Is there so great a

difference betw een rais ing anim als to nourish our-

selves, and killing or taking them read y raised to

nou rish ourselves in the same m anner. If he w ho

extracts salt from sea water, by exposing it to the

action of the ray s of the sun , is a prod ucer, w hy

should not he who extracts the same salt from th ewater of a fountain, by means of the action of fire,

and that of the wind, in buildings of graduation, be

a pro du cer also ? And ye t w hat specific difference \





23

language which we remark in the writings of the

ancient economists. W hen ideas are not precise itis impossible that expressions should be clear.

The truth is simply, that all our useful laboursare productive, and that those relative to agricul-ture are so like the others, in the same manner asthe others, for the same reason as the others ; andhave in this nothing particular. A farm is a realmanufactory ; every thing is operated there in thesame way, by the same principles, and for the samecauses. A field is a real utensil, or, if you please,a store of first materials, which any one may takeif it yet belongs to nobody ; and which must bebought, rented, or borrowed, if it has already an

owner. I t does not change its nature, whether Iemploy it in the raising of grain, in bleachinglinen, or for any other purpose. In every case itis an instrument necessary to produce a desiredeffect, as a furnace, a hammer, or a vessel. T h eonly difference between this instrument and everyother, is that to use it, as it cannot be removed, we

must go to it, iustead of its coming to us.Once again, agricultural industry is a branch of

manufacturing industry, which has no specific cha-racter which separates it from all the others.—W ould you so generalise this term as to extend itto all the labours which have for their object theprocurement of first materials? it is then certain

that agricultural industry is the first in date and themost necessary of all, because it is necessary that athins; should be procured before it can be applied touse ; but it is not for that reason exclusively pro-ductive, for most of its productions must yet be fur-









CHAPTER III.

Of the Measure of Utility or of Values.

This word utility has a very extensive significa-tion, for it is very abstract, or rather it is very ab-

stract because it is abstracted from a multitude of

different significations. In effect there ex ist utili-

ties of many different kinds. There are some real,

some illusory ; if some are solid some are very fu-

tile, and we often stupidly deceive ourselves in

respect to them. I could cite many exam ples , but

they w ould not perhaps be to the taste of all rea-

ders. It is better that every one should choose

those which please him. In general we may say

that whatever is capable of procuring any advan-

tage, even a frivolous pleasure, is useful. I think

this is the real value of this word, for in the end allwe desire is to multiply our enjoyments and to di-

minish our sufferings ; and certainly the sentiment

of pleasure and of satisfaction is a good. A ll goods

are even nothing more than that differently modi-

fied. W ha tever , then, procures it is useful.

If it is not easy to say clearly what this utility is

of which we speak, it appears still much more diffi-cult to determine its deg re es ; for the measure of the

utility of a thing, real or supposed, is the vivacity

with which it is generally desired. N o w , how are

we to fix the degrees of a thing so inappreciable as

















CHAPTER IV.

Of the Change of Form, or of manufacturing 1M-

dustry, comprising Jlgriculture*Since the whole of society is but a continual suc-

cession of exchanges, we are all more or less com-mercial. In like manner, since the result of all ourlabours is never but the production of utility, andsince the ultimate effect of all our manufactures isalways to produce utility, we are all producers ormanufacturers,—because there is no person so un-fortunate as never to do any thing useful. But bythe effect of social combinations, and by the sepa-ration of the different kinds of occupation which isits consequence, every one devotes himself to a par-ticular kind of industry. T ha t which has for its

object the fashioning and modifying all the beingswhich surround us, to fit them for our use, we callspecifically manufacturing or fabricating industry ;and, for reasons before given, we comprehend inthis that which consists in extracting the first mate-rials from the elements which contain them, that isto say that which is called agricultural industry.—

Let us examine the processes, and manner of ope-ration, of fabricating industry in general.

M . Say has well remarked , that in every kind ofindustry there are three distinct things : F irs t, toknow the properties of the bodies which we employ,







38

to day exactly as brute animals, and had not abso-

lutely any thing remaining from the produce of hislabour.

What, then, are all these advances, great orsmall ? T hey are what are commonly called capi-

tals, and what I simply name economies. T h e yare the surplus of the production of all those whohave gone before us, beyond their consumption,'—

for if the one had always been exactly equal to theother there would be no remainder, not even where-with to raise children. W e have inherited fromour ancestors but this surplus ; and it is this sur-plus, long accumulated in every way, always in-creasing in accelerated progression, which makesall the difference between a civilized nation and asavage horde,—a difference, the picture of whichwe have before sketched.

The economists have entered into many detailson the nature and employment of capitals. T heyhave recognized many different kind s. T hey havedistinguished capitals productive and unproductive;

capitals fixed, and others circulating, moveable,and immoveable, permanent, and destructible. Isee no great use in all these subdivisions. Someare very contestable, others founded on very varia-ble circumstances, and others again entirely super-fluous. I t seems sufficient for the object we pro-pose to remark, that prior economies are necessary

to the commencement of every industrious enter-prise, even of small extent; and it is for this rea-son that in every country the progress of industryis at first so slow,—for it is at the commencementabove all that economies are difficult1;—how can it













44

cdes of fabrication. The re are, in like manner, in ag -

riculture, theory, application, and execution; and w efind there the three kinds of labourers, relative to

these three objects. But what app lies eminently

to agriculture, is the general truth which we have

established, that labours the most necessary are,

from this circumstance alone, the worst paid. In ef-

fect, the most important and most considerable pro-

ductions of agriculture, are the cereal plants withwhich we are nourished. N o w I ask to what price

corn would rise, if all those employed in its produc-

tion, were as dearly paid as those who labour in the

arts of the most refined luxury ? Certainly the poor

workmen of all the common trades, could not attain

i t ; they must absolutely die of hunger, or their

wages must rise to a level with those of agriculturalworkm en; but then those of the others would rise

likewise in proportion, since they are more sought

after; thus the first wo uld not be advanced. T h ey

would alwa ys be at the lowest possible ra te; such

is the law of necessity.

"What is true of agricultural workm en compara-

tively with other workmen, is true of agricultural

undertakers comparatively with other undertakers.

T heir processes are well known. It requires but a

middling understanding to employ them. R esu lts

of a long experience; during the existence of which

numerous essays have been made, and, more than

is commonly believed, they are in general well

enough adapted to the localities ; and there are few

means of ameliorating them sufficiently, sensibly to

augment their profits, whatever may be said by rash

speculators who from time to time nearly ruin them-







47

the money wh ich lias served to purc hase the m , an d

receive the interest, without troubling themselveswhether its employment has produced loss or pro-

fit to the borrower, who makes use of it.

It is perhaps fortunate that the rich thus pur-

chase lands to rent them; for agriculture being a la-

borious and little profitable profession, those w ho

devote themselves to it have generally small means,

as we have ju st observed. If they were obliged tobegin by buying: the land they wish to cultivate, all

their funds would be absorbed; there would nothing

rem ain for the o ther ad van ces necessary (o cul-

ture , and still they could undertake but small enter-

pr ize s. I t is then more convenient for them to find"

lan ds to be rented , than to be forced to buy th em ;

but this is not more convenient to them tha n it is

convenient to other undertakers, and to themselves,

to find money to borrow, when they need it to give

a greater extent to their enterprizes; and this is

only advantageous to them under the same restric-

t ions, that is to say it lessens their profits and ren-

ders their situation more precarious ; for it is wellknown that a merchant, who does not carry on at

least the gre ater par t of his business on his ow n

funds, is in a very dangerous situation, and rarely

ha s great success. H ow ev er, such is the situation

even of those whom we call great farmers.

is the same thing-. The truth is, we ought not to say lend but in casesof gratuitou s loans.

When we have a property whatsoever, there are but six ways ofusing- it. TT» preserve or destroy it,.to g-ive or sell it, to lend or rentit. They do not precisely destroy lands, but they keep them or givethem , or sell them, or lend them, or rent them, s they do everv thingelse. Th ere is the same difference between a lending and renting , asbetween giving and selling.



In a w ord, proprietors who let lands are lenders,

and nothing more. It is very singular that we havealmost always confounded and identified their inte-res t with that of agriculture, to which it is as foreignas that of the lenders of money is to all the enter-prizes undertaken by those to wholn they lend. W ecannot sufficiently wonder to see that almost all men,and particularly agricolists, speak of great proprie-

tors of land with a love and respect truly supersti-tious; regard them as the pillars of the state, the soulof society ;* the foster fathers of agriculture,—whilethey most frequently lavish horror and contempt onthe leuders of money, who perform exactly the sameoffice as the others, f A rich incumbent who hasjust let a farm exorbitantly high considers himselfas a very clever, and what is more, as a very usefulman ; he has not the least doubt of his scrupulousprobity, and he does not perceive that he is exactlythe same thing as the most pinching usurer, whomhe condemns without hesitation, and without pity .Perhaps even his farmer, whom he ruins, does not

any more than himself see this perfect sim ilitude ; somuch are men the dupes of words. It is true that solong as they are so, they understand things badly ;and, reciprocally, so long as they understand badlythe things of which they speak, they but imperfect-ly comprehend the words which they use . I cannot

* If it is in considering them as men in general, en ligh ten ed andindependent, it is just; but if in their quality of proprietors of land,

it is absurd.

•} T he lenders of land have even a great advantage o ver the othe rs,

because when they have found a mean of obtaining a higher rent,

the y have by this circumstance augmented their capital: land is sold

according to its rents. Th is doe s not hap pen to the lend ers of money.



















57

prietors prefer it. 3d . Becau se comm only the poor

Countries, which are those where we see half-

sharers, produce bad hay, little or no oats, and are

not susceptible of artificial meadows. 3d . Becau se

these half-sharers being negligent and unskilful, it

is difficult to confide to them animals so delicate as

horses. Bu t it is not this which constitutes them

half-sharers, and which distinguishes between them

and farmers. T heir specific character is that ofbeing wretched, without means, and unable to

make any advances. It is that wh ich reduces them

to be half-sharers, and makes their culture really

sm a ll; although by reason of the extent of their

metairics, which commonly occupy a great deal of

ground, there are some who still call it great cul-

ture, in opposition to that of small farmers or smalllabourers, or in opposition only to culture by hand.

F in a lly , that nothing may be wanting to the con-

fusion of ideas, there are some angloman authors

(as Arthur Young) who amuse themselves by call-

ing small culture that of our greatest farmers, be-

cause they there see lands at rest, reversing exclu-

siv ely the name of great culture for that system ofrotation which themselves approved,—without re-

flecting that in the smallest of all cultures, that by

hand, we most frequently see land that is never

suffered to rest.

Thus we see by fair statement five or six differ-

ent manners of employing the same words, of which

tw o or three at least separate things absolutely

similar, and unite others totally different; and these

word* are continually used without explaining in

which sense they are taken. Proceeding thus^ it









61

of luxury. T h u s these speculations, although

agricultural, are not in the class of fabrications ofthings of the first necessity.

If this picture is exact, if it is a faithful represen-

tation of facts, if it is true that agriculture, even

under the most favourable circumstances, is not and

cannot be but a laborious and not very profitable

profession, we must not be astonished that it does

not hold the first rank in soc iety, and that capitals

do not seek it. W e should perceive that they are

not and never w ill be so employed but by those

wh o cannot or know not how to em ploy them other-

w ise . T h e only mean of causing numerous capi-

tals to be employed in agriculture js, then, to cause

them to superabound elsewhere. T h is evil, if itbe one, is incurable; and it is very useful to know

it. For how ever w e may say that agriculture is

the first of arts ; that it is the foster mother of man;

that it is his natural destination ; that we are wrong

in not honouring it more ; that the emperor of Chi-

na ploughs a furrow every year, and a thousand

similar fine, things ; a ll this w ill amount to nothing,and will change nothing in the march of society :—

These are vain declamations which do not merit our

attention. Let us make only some short reflections

on the first of these phrases, because it conceals an

error. T o bring it to light is to refute it.

Certainly agriculture is the first of arts in rela-

tion to necessity ; for before all things we must eatin order to live. If they mean to say this only ,

they say what is incontestible but very insignificant.

If they understand by these words that agriculture

is the only art abso lutely necessary, the assertion









CHAPTER V.

Of the change of p lace, or of Commercial Industry.

T H E insulated man would fabricate to a certainpoint, because he would labour for himself; but hewould not trade,—for with whom could he havetrade ? Commerce and society are one and thesame thing. Accordingly we have seen in the firstchapter, that society from its origin is essentiallynothing but a continual commerce, a perpetual se-

ries of exchanges of every kind,—of which we haverapidly indicated the principal advantages and theprodigious effects. Commerce then exists long be-fore there are merchants, properly so called.—Thes e are agents who facilitate it, and who serveit, but who do not constitute it. W e may evensay that the exchanges which they make in theircommercial capacity are but preparatory exchanges;for the exchange for use is not completed, has notfully attained its end, until the merchandise haspassed from him who fabricated to him who wantsit, whether to consumer it or to make it the subjectof a new fabrication ; and the latter ought at this

moment to be regarded as a consumer. T h e mer-chant, properly so called, interposes between thesetwo persons, the producer and the consumer; butit is not to injure them. He is neither a parasitenor an inconvenient person: On the contrary, he

























79

which serves as a basis. T his metal is silver, be-

cause, it is this which is best adapted to the greatestnumber of subdivisions, of which there is need inexchanges. Gold is too rare , the other metals toacommon.

Gold, however, comes in aid of silver in the pay-meut of very great sums; as would, also, the pre-cious stones if they were divisible without a loss ofvalue. But it is only as a subsidiary that it is em-ployed, and only by referring the value of gold tothat of silver. T he proportion in Europe is nearlyas fifteen or sixteen to one ; but it varies, as everyother proportion of value according to the demand.In China it is commonly as twelve or thirteen to

one ; whilst in Indostan, on the contrary, we aretold it is about as eighteen or twenty to one. T h usthere is a profit in carrying silver to China, becausefor twelve ounces of silver you have there one ounceof gold, which on return into Europe is worth fif-teen ounces of silver, whereby you have gainedthree ounces ; and, on the contrary, there is a profit

in carrying gold into Indostan, because for oneounce of gold you there have eighteen of silver, andthus you have gained three ounces of the latter me-tal. Political authorities may however very wellcoin money of gold and fix its proportion with thatof silver, that is to say, determine that, wheneverthere are no stipulations to the contrary, one ounce

of gold or fifteen or sixteen ounces of silver shallbe received indifferently. I t is as in jud icial ac-tions, they establish that when there are sums ofmoney that ought to bear an interest which has notbeen stipulated by the parties, that interest shall be













85

duced good. Y et it is this which for a lon g time

was very generally regarded as a wise operation offinance. It is here , then, we may well w ond er how

men are the dupes of w ords . T o th e shame of the

human understanding, it would perhaps have been

sufficient to preserve it from such an illusion, that

the pieces of money should have been, as we have

said, designated solely by their weight, instead of

be arin g insignificant nam es. I t is very probab le

that then they would have seen, that half an ounce

could never become an ounce.

Y et in truth , this becomes dou btful, w hen we

see illusions, more gross and injurious than these,

still succeed w ith m any men , or at least be only

imperfectly distin gu ishe d. T h i s reflection leads usdirectly to paper money, with which Europe is

inundated at the moment in which we are speaking;

(1810) and to which recourse is always had, in

spite of the constant experience of its inevitable

effects.

T o defend an injustice it is alw ays necessary to

rest it on an error. T h is is an universal rul e.Those who have wished to defraud their creditors

of a pa rt of the money* they owed them , by dimin-

ishing the quantity of silver contained in the money

w ith wh ich the y expected to pay them , have all

pretended that silver has no value in itself, as we

cann ot d rin k or eat i t ; that it is but the sign of

of real values ; that it is the impression of the mo-

narch which gives it the quality of a sign, and that

it is indifferent wheth er it be pu t on a greate r or sm al-

er qua ntity of m etal. On e might answered them , if

silver has no value, wh y do you retain th at which you











90

prices. T h e y are careful not to avow , that it is be-

cause a promise is not silver, and that the promisebegins to appear doubtful. T h ey attribute this

fact, at which they appear surprised, to a momenta-

ry encumbrance, which it will be easy to remove by

slackening all payments except their own; to the

intrigues of a party of mal-contents, which should

be suppressed ; to the jea lou sy of foreigners, who

will only deal with them for ready money, for theobjects they are obliged to draw from them .—

It is impossible not to yield to such good reaso ns ;

and, above all, to necessity. T h e ex pen ses are

therefore augmented considerably, and the paper

likewise.

People receive it still because they are forced;

but every one demands much more of it for the same

thing. Soon an acknow ledged and know n propor-

tion is established between paper and silver. It

becomes so disadvantageous to the paper, that those

who live on salaries, annuitants, and the proprietors

of leased estates, who are paid with this money are

greatly aggrieved. Sa laries are augmented parti-cularly those of the officers of government; which

is by so much the more burthened; the others suffer

horribly. A t this epoch, of the depreciation of

paper, government already experiences the same

loss in its imposts that individuals do on their annu-

ities and rents. T h is embarrasses it, but this is

not the moment to augment the public burthens. I tis easy to create paper to supply the deficiency it

experiences. It prefers this m ean ; hence a new

cause of emission and depreciation.





want themselves. In fact a general want takes

place; for no one makes new provisions, or newfabrications, for fear of suffering new spoliations.All trades are abandoned. The re is no longer pos-sibility of living on the produce of regular indus try :every one subsists on what be can conceal, or onwhat he can lay his hands, as in an enemy's country.Thje poorest die in crowds. W e may say in the

strictest sense, that society is dissolved; for there isno longer any free exchanges.

There is no longer any necessity for small notes,fop the largest hardly suffice for the smallest sums.W e have seen three thousand livres paid for a pairof shoes, and been very happy to obtain them in se-cret at this p rice; for force may well oblige a thing

which exists to be given for nothing, but it cannotoblige it to be made. Having reached this point,the government ou the contrary must give a veryhigh nominal value to every piece of its paper,—notmerely that it may be of some use, but that, even toitself it may represent a little more real value thanits fabrication has cost, This is the reason that in

France, towards the last of the existence of papermoney, government thought proper to make man-dates, which were nothing but assignats of a newform; but to which was attributed a value an hun-dred times greater than that of the others, withoutwhich they would not have paid the cost of makingthem. T hus the process reached that pass that anote of a hundred francs in assignats, for example,had not effectively the rea l value of the piece of pa-per on which it was written; and it would havebeen worth more for him who received it if blank,













98

this principle would often be very embarrassing in

matters of loan : it would require attention to manycircumstances of difficult estimate, and especially to

the degree of risk run by the lender in parting with

his funds. At least, 1 would wish in this supposi-

tion for still stronger reasons, that the rents of land

should be comprised under the same rule; for there

is no risk of the funds being carried off. But I

wou ld alw ays prefer that individuals should b eleft entirely free in their conventions.

T o finish this chapter on money, and all that has

relation to it, it remains for us to say a word on ex-

change and on banks. These are two very distinct

things which are often confoun ded; let us exam ine

them separately.

Exc ha ng e, or the service of an exchanger, is an

operation the most sim ple. It is to barter money

for money when it is required. It is on ly necessary

to know how much pure gold or silver is contained

by each of the two to render the same quantity he

receives, and to take a stipulated reward for the

small service he perform s; or it is to barter ingotsfor money. T h is is still exactly the same thing. It

is* only necessary further to take into account the

small increase of value which is given to the metal

by the quality of money, impressed on it by the

effigy or seal of the sovere ign. I f the standard va-

lue of metals were as easy to be established as their

weights, the personal interest, the most inventive infishing in troubled water, could not throw the least

obscurity on a similar transaction; and, notwith-

standing this sm all difficulty of the assay, it is still suf-

ficiently clear when nothing else is mingled with it,









103

The operation of exchanges, on the contrary, min-

gles itself with that of banking, and complicates itwh en funds are to be transported from one country

to another : for the sum which is received at Paris,

and for wh ich a bill is given on L ond on, has been

deposited in French money and will be paid in En-

glish m oney. W e must ascertain then the concor-

dance of these two monies, and determine how

much pure metal is contained in each, according to

the know n law s of their fabrication. W e must es-

timate too, at least approx im ately, w hat the pieces

of money in the two countries may have lost since

they have been in circulation . H en ce it is that all

other things being equal, less is demanded to pay

the same sum in any country, when the money isancient, and has consequently suffered much waste

by use, and by the fraud of clippers, than when it

is quite new and untouched : for in the latter case

it contains really more metal, and the bearer of the

bill will receive more for the same sum. T h i s ex-

change is yet another source of profit for the

bankers .To this all the operations of exchange and bank-

ing are reduced , which as we see are very simple,

and would be very clear if all coins bore the name

of their weight and the mark of their standard

valu e ; and if ped an try and charlatanism had not

concealed and disguised notions so common, under

a multitude of barbarous names and cant terms,

such as the initiated aloue can understand.

by the course of excha nge. But we are not yet com e to the exam i-

nation of the reveries on the pretended balance of commerce; it suf-

fices to have made this observation.



103

B an ke rs rend er ye t another k ind of service.—

When the bearer of a bill of exchange, not yet due,has need of money, they advance it to him', retain-

ing the interest of the sum for the time remaining

before the day of paym ent. T h is is called dis-

count. Sometimes they receive from an individual

effects not dem and ab le othe* than b ills of e xc ha ng e;

as bills of credit of long terms, title papers of pro-

perty , and hypothecations on la n d ; and guaran-teed by these securities they advance money to him,

m ak ing him pay an interest highe r or low er. A t

other times, kno win g a man to be solve nt, they

give him for a retribu tion a credit on them for a

determinate su m ; and they m ake themselves the

agents of all his business, undertake to collect all

his credits and to pay all his deb ts. T h e s e are so

many ways of being useful; but in all these cases

they are essentially lenders and agents for business,

and not properly bankers, although bank services

are mingled with these operations. A ll this, never-

theless, is ordinarily comprehended under the names

of banks of discount, accommodation, credit, circu-lation, &c.

All these bankers, exchangers, agents, lenders,

discounters, at least the richest and most accredited

amongst them, have a strong tendency to unite them-

selves into large com panies. T h e ir ordinary pre-

text is, that transacting thus much more business

the y may be content w ith a sm aller profit on each ,and perform all the services on much better terms;

but this pretextis illusory—for if they transact more

business they employ more funds, and su rely it is

not their inten tion th at every pa rt of their funds





105

dem and , s obliged to create an excessive quantity

of new notes; it delivers them to the government,which employs them very quickly ; tl»e circulation

is overd one with them ; inqu ietude follows, every

one wishes to realise them . I t is evidently impos-

sible, unless government repays that which it has

borrowe d ; and this it does not do . T h e company

can then but invo ke its suppor t. It ask s to be au-

thorize d not to pa y its notes, and to give them aforced circulation. I t obtains its requ est, and soci-

ety finds itself in the full state of payer money, of

w hich we have seen the consequences. I t is thus

that the *caisse d'escompte produced the assignats

in F ra nc e. I t is thus that the bank of Londo u has

brought England to the same state in which it is at

this mom ent. I t is thus all privileged companiesend : they are rad ica lly vicious ; and every thing

essentially bad always terminates badly, notwith-

standing its transient successes ; all things hang to-

geth er, and necessity is invincible. I t would be

easy to show tha t Mere these great machines so so-

phisticated not to produce the horrible danger which

we have just described, the advantages promised by

them would be illusory or very inconsiderable, and

could add bu t very little to the mass of national

industry and wealth. Vmi it is not necessary to

en ter now into de ta ils ; it suffices for us to have

seen in a general manner the progression of affairs.

Before 2:01112: fu rther , let us look hack on the roadover which we have travelled,—it is the mean of

not going wrong as we advance.

• A bank existin g at P.iris at tli^ com m enc em ent of the rev olution.





CHAPTER VH.

Reflections on what precedes.

M A N Y readers will perhaps imagine that, so far,I have followed rather a whimsical course ; that I

have often ascended very high to establish truths

very com m on; that I have d isposed my chapters in

an order wh ich does not appear m ethod ical; and,

above all, that I have abandoned the subjects which

I have treated w ithout giving them all the develope-

ments of which they are susceptible. But I praythem to remark, that this is not a mere treatise on

political economy. It is the second section of a

treatise on our intellectual faculties. It is a trea-

tise on the w ill , forming a sequel to a treatise on

the understanding. M y intention is much less to

exhaust all the details of the moral sciences, than

to see how they are derived from our nature, and

from the conditions of our existen ce, in order to

detect with certainty the errors which may have

slidden into them by not ascending to this source

of all we are and all we know . N o w to execute

such a design it is not the abundance of ideas w e

are to seek , but their severe enchainment, and acourse uninterupted and without chasms. Still how-

ever I am persuaded that, without perceiving it, we

are already much further advanced than we are

aware.



108

I n fact, w e have seen that the prop er ty of beiu£

endowed with will, by giving us a distinct know -ledge of our individuality, gives us thereby and ne

cessarily the idea of property ; and that thus pro-

perty, with all its consequences, is an inevitable

result of our natu re. H er e then is alre ad y a great

source of ram bling disquisition and of declam ation

totally drained.

W e have afterwards seen that this same will ,which constitutes all our wants, is the cause of all

our means of providing for them ; that the employ-

ment of our force, which it directs, is the only pri-

mitive riches and the sole principle of the value of

whatever has one for us.

Before drawing any consequences from this se-

cond observation, we have likewise seen that thestate of society is not only very advantageous to us.

but is also so natural to us that we could not other-

wise exist. H e re then is anothe r subject of com-

mon place ngtions, very false, exhausted.

Uniting these two points, the examination of the

effect of the employment of our force, and of that of

the increase of efficacy given to it by a sta te of soci-

ety, has enabled us to discover what it is to pro-

duce for beings like ourselves, and what we ought

to understand by this wo rd. T h is , also, annihi-

lates a great subject of ambiguity.

Strengthened by these premises, after some elu-

cidations of the measure of utility of things, it was

easy for us to conclude that all our industry redu-

ces itself to a change of form and of place, and con

sequently that culture is a fabrication like every

other; which dissipates many clouds obscuring



109

this subject; and has enabled us to see very clearly

the progress of every kind of industry, its interests,and the obstacles opposed to them. T h is likewise

lead s us to app reciate both men and things very

differently from what is commonly done.

Finally, amongst all the things which have a

value, we have remarked those which possess the

qualities proper for becoming money ; and we have

easily recognised the advantages and the utility ofthis good and real money, and the danger of debas-

ing it and of replacing it by another entirely ficti-

tious and false in continuation ; we have even cast

a rapid glance on the small operations, commonly

regarded as very great, to which the exchange of

these mo nies and their economical tran spo rtation ,

under the name of banking, give place.

F ro m when ce it follows, if 1 am not m istake n,

that we have acquired clear and certain ideas on all

the important circumstances in the formation of our

riches. N ot h in g then remains but to see in w hat

manner their distribution amongst individuals is

effected, and in w ha t m anner their consum ption iseffected, tha t is to say the use we m ak e of them.

W e shall then have an abridged but complete trea-

tise on all the results of the employment of our

means of existence.

This second part, the distribution of riches in so-

ciety, is pe rhap s th at one of the three w hich give*

place to the most delicate considerations, and inwhich we meet with phenomena the most compli-

cated. H ow ev er, if we have well elucidated the

first, we shall see the obscurity of this fly before us,

and all dissipate with facility. L et us endeavour

lo follow constantly the flue that guides us.







112

impossible that every one should not be the proprie-

tor of his individuality and of his faculties. T he in-equality in these is not less : for it is impossible thatall individuals should be alike, and have the samedegree of force, intelligence and happiness. T hisnatural inequality is extended and manifested inproportion as our means are developed and diversi-fied. W hile they are very limited it is less strik-ing , but it exists. I t is an error not to have recog-nised this among savage nations. W ith them par-ticularly it is very grievous : for it is that of forcewithout restraint.

If, to banish from society this natural inequality,we undertake to disregard natural property, and op-

pose ourselves to its necessary consequences, itwould be in vain : for nothing which has its exis-tence in nature can be destroyed by art. Such con-ventions, if they were practicable, would be a sla-very too much against nature, and consequently tooinsupportable to be durable ; and they would notaccomplish their purposes. During their continu-

ance, we should see as many quarrels for a greatershare of the common goods, or a smaller part of thecommon trouble, as can exist among us for the de-fence of the property of individuals ; and the onlyeffect of such an order of things would be to esta-blish an equality of misery and deprivation, by ex-tinguishing the activity of personal industry. I

kuow all they tell us of the community of properlywith the Spartans ; but I reply boldly it is not truebecause it is impossible. I know well that atSparta the rights of individuals were very little re-spected by the laws, and totally violated in respect





114

a new mean of acquiring; and what is more, or ra-

ther what is worse, of acquiring without labour,H ow eve r, so long as society has not occupied a ll the

space of wh ich it may disp ose, all still pro spe r

with care; for those who have nothing but their

hands, and who do not find a sufficiently advanta-

geous employm ent for their labou r, can go and

possess themselves of some of those lands which

hav e n o o w ne rs, and derive from them a profit so

much the more considerable, as they are not oblig-

ed to lease or buy them . Acc ordingly care is ge-

neral in new and industrious nations. B ut w hen

once all the country is filled, when there no longer

remains a field, which belongs to nobody, it is then

that pression begins. T h e n those who have noth-

ing in adva nce, or w ho h ave too little, can do no

otherwise than pu t themselves in the pa y of those

who have a sufficiency.* T h e y offer their labour

every w he re, it falls in price. T h is does not yet

prevent them from begetting children and multiply

ing imprudently ; they quickly become too nume

rous. T h e n it is only the most skilful and themost fortunate among them wh o can succeed. A ll

those who se services are in the least dem and , can

no long er procure for them selves but a subsistence

the most strict, alw ay s un certain , an d often insuffi-

cient. T h e y become almost as un ha pp y as if the y

were still savages.

• Once more I repeat, that h ired labourers are not solely in the payof the proprietors of land, but in that of all those who have capital?with which to pay their wages.







first the hired to the undertakers, in shackling those

by apprenticeships, corporation privileges, andother regulations; and afterwards to sacrifice theconsumers to these same undertakers, by grantingto these privileges, and sometimes even monopolies.

Secondly, I remark, that although each of ushas particular interests, we change so frequentlyour parts in society, that often we have under oneaspect an interest contrary to that which we haveunder another, so that we find ourselves connectedwith those to whom we were opposed the momentbefore; which fortunately prevents* us from form-ing groupes constantly enemies. But, above all,I observe that in the midst of all these momentary

conflicts, we are all and always united by the com-mon and immutable interests of proprietors andconsumers, that is to say, that we have all and al-ways an interest, first, that property be respected jsecondly, that industry should be perfected ; or, inother words, that fabrication and transportationshould be in the best state possible. These truths

are useful, to comprehend perfectly the workings ofsociety, and to be sensible of all its advantages.I t was a desire of rendering them evident whichinduced me to enter into these details. Let us re-turn to the subject of the distribution of riches,from which they have drawn us, although they arenot foreign to it.

I have a little hastened above the moment inwhich distress begins to make itself felt in the bosomof new societies, by fixing it at the instant in whichall land has a master, and at which it can no Ion.ger be procured, without being bought or reuted.—



its

Certainly at this epoch a great mean of care is ex-

hausted, labour loses an opportunity of em ployingitself in a manner extrem ely advantageous, and the

mass of subsistence ceases to increase as rapidly ;

because there can no longer be a question of estab-

lishing new cultures, but only of perfecting the old ,

a tiling alw ay s more difficult and less productive

than is generally believed . H ow ever immense re-

sources still remain. A ll the arts offer them in com-

petition, especia lly if the race of men who form the

new society have sprung from an industrious and

enlightened nation, and if it has relations with

other civilized countries : for then there is no ques-

tion about inventing and discovering, which is al-

w ay s very s lo w ; but of profiting and practising

what is known, which is always very easy.

In fact, so long as agriculture offered such great

advantages, all men unemployed, or not profitably

enough employed to their liking, have turned them-

selve s to that. T h ey have only thought of extract-

ing productions from the earth, and exporting them.

Observe that without a facility of exportation, theprogress of agriculture would have been much less

rapid, but with this circumstance, it has em ployed

all hands. W ag es excessively high have scarcely

been able to determine a sufficient number of

individuals to remain attached to the profession

of the other arts the most necessary. But for

all those things, the manufacture of which hasnot been indispensable within the country itself in

which they are consumed, it has been more econo-

mical to draw them even from a great distance, and

they have not failed to do i t ! Accordingly the com-





120

riches, at least ease to the lower classes of people.*

It is not until it becomes stationary or retrogradethat misery begins, because all lucrative employ-ments being filled, without a possibility of creatingnew ones, there is every where more labour offeredthan demanded. Then it is inevitable that theleast skilful and least fortunate among the labour-ers should find no employment, or receive but insuf-

ficient wages for what they do. M any of themnecessarily languish, and even perish, and a greatnumber of wretched must constantly exist. Suchis the sad state of old nations. W e shall soon seefrom what causes they arrive at it sooner than theyought, and by what means it might to a certainpoint be remedied. But previously some explana-

tions are still necessary.In fact, I am so bold as to believe that the pic-

ture which I have just traced, of the progress of so-cieties from their birth, presents striking tru ths.There is in it neither a system made at pleasure,nor a theory established beforehand. I t is a sim-ple exposition of facts. Every one may look andsee, if it is not thus they present themselves to theunprejudiced eye. I t may even be observed that Ihave represented a nation, happily situated, enjoy-ing all kinds of advantages, and making good use

* How very desirable it would be in such a case, that the superiorclass of society should be sufficiently enlightened to give to the infe-rior ideas completely sound of the social order, during this happy

and necessarily transien t period, in which it is the most susceptible ofinstruction. If the U nited States of America do not profit of it,

their tranquility and even safety will be much exposed, when interiorand exterior obstacles, and inconveniences, shall have multipliedThis will be called the ir decline and corru ption . It will be the slowJvit necessary effect of their anterior improvidence and carelessness.



121

of them, and yet we come to this painful conclusion,

that its state of full prosperity is necessarily tran-sient. T o account for a phenomenon so afflicting, itis not possible to stop at these vagae words, of de-generation, of corruption, of the old age of nations,(as if aii abstract being could be really old or younglike a living individual,) all metaphorical expres-sions, which have been strangely abused, with

which we have ofteu been satisfied for want of bet-ter, but which in truth explain nothing, and whichif they had a prevalence, would express effects ra-ther than causes. W e must then penetrate further.Every inevitable event has its cause in nature.T h e cause of this is the fecundity of the humanspecies. T hus it is necessary to consider popula-tion ; and afterwards we will resume the examina-tion of the distribution of our riches.





C HAPTER I X .

Of the multiplication of Individuals, or ofPopulation.

LOVE is a passion which so violently affects ourheads, that it is not astonishing we should often bemistaken on all its effects. I acknowledge I nomore partake of the zeal of the m oralists, to dimin-ish and constrain our pleasures, than of that of thepoliticians, to increase our fecundity and accelerate

our multiplication. Each appears to me equallycontrary to reason. At a proper time I may de-velope my opinions on the first point, at present thesecond id under consideration. Let us begin by es-tablishing facts, by taking a view of all which sur-rounds us.

Under this relation, as under every other, wesee nature occupied solely with the species, andnot at all with the individual. Its fecundity is suchin every kind, that if almost the totality of germswhich it produces were not abortive, and if muchthe greater part of the beings brought forth did notperish almost immediately for want of aliment, in a

very short time a single species of plants would suf-fice to cover the whole earth , and one single speciesof animals to people it entirely. T h e human spe-cies is subjected to the common law , though perhapsin a smaller degree than many others. Man is led









127

cial organization ami its industry arc far from being

as perfect. F er til e cou ntries, ull thing s otherw iseequal, are more peopled than the others, and easily

repa ir their dis aste rs, because th eir bind furnishes

great m eaus, tha t is to say the labo ur app lied to

the land is there fruitful. A cco rdin gly , L om ba rd y

an d U e.lgram, so often ra va ge d, are alw ay s flourish-

ing. Po lan d how ever, which is very fertile, has

a small population, und that stationary; because

its inha bitan ts being ccrfs, a nd w retched, have in

tiie midst of abundance very slender means of exis-

tence. B ut supp ose for a mom ent the sm all num -

ber of men, to whom these eerfs belong, and who

devour tlnjir substance, driven from the country,

and the land become the prop erty of those wh ocultivate it, you would see the.in quickly become in-

dustrious, and mu ltiply rap idly . T w o other coun-

tries, in general tolerably good, Westphalia ami

even Switzerland, notwithstanding the latter has

wiser laws, have small population through want of

industry ; while Geneva, l iamburgh, and all Hol-

land have it in excess. On the con trary, Sp ain ,which is a delicious country, has few inhabitants re-

latively to its exten t. H ow eve r it has been prov ed,

tha t for the forty or fifty yea rs , which preceded

the present un hap py w ar, its population sensibly

increased ; because they had been ab le to 'free it' s in-

dustry from some of its fetters, and in some degree to

increase their information. I t is then w ell-prov ed,that population is always proportioned to the means

of existence.

T h i s truth has been already avowed by m any po-

litical w ri te rs ; but we sec in their works> th at they





•developed all its consequen ces. H is w ork, singu-

larly rem ark ab le, should be regard ed as the laststate of science on this imp ortant object, and he

leaves almost nothing to be desired. M . M a k h u s

does not limit himself to prove, tha t though pop-

ulation is arrested at different degrees it> different

countries, and according to different circumstauces,

it is always and every where a8 great as it can be,

ha vin g regard to the means of existence— He

shows that always in civilised nations it is too great

for the ha pp ines s of m a n ; because that men, and

above all the poor, who every where constitute the

great number, urged by the stimulus so imperious

to reproduction, always multiply imprudently and

without fores igh t; and plunge themselves into in-

evitable m isery by a mu ltiplication of the m en,

who demand occupation, and to whom none can be

given. A ll he ad vanc es is founded not only on

convincing reasoning, but on tables of de ath s,

births, marriages,-of the mean duration of life, and

of the total population collected in different coun-

tries and discussed with care.I add this latter point as very necessary : for it is

to be observed first that all these data not only are

often inexac t, bu t tha t even wh en exact, they re-

qu ire to be exam ined attentively, an d com pared

the one with the other, w ith much sagac ity, before

consequences are drawn from them ; without which

they would lead to serious errors. Secondly, thathow ever imperfect thes e docum ents may be, they

exist but in few countries, and within a short time

only ; so that in political economy, as in astronomy,

w e should calculate very little on ancient and dis-











134

The two chapters which we have just read, al-

though very short, embrace important facts; and,joined to prior explanations, give notions sufficiently

certain on our true interests. It only remains to

profit of them.

W e have seen, that we must be satisfied to per-

mit an opposition of interests, and an inequality of

means to exist among us: and that the best we can

do is to leave to every one the freest employment ofhis facu lties, and to favour their entire development.

W e have moreover seen that this em ployment and

developm ent of facu lties, although profiting un-

equ ally the different ind ividua ls, succeeded in con-

ducting all to the highest state of well-being pos-

sible, so long as space, the greatest of all resources,

wa s not wa nting; and that wh en all the land is occu-

pied, other subsidiary resources sufficed to support

for a long time a high Btate of general prosperity.

W e have also seen that, having once arrived ta

the period of being crouded and constrained, it

is inevitable that those who have the smallest

means will be able to procure by the employment ofthese mean s, but a bare satisfaction of their most

urgent wants.

W e have finally seen that, the multiplication of

men continuing in all the classes of society, the su-

perfluity of the first has been successively cast into

the inferior c la ss es; and that that of the last having

no longer any resource, has been necessarily des-troyed by wretchedness. It is this which causes

the stationary and even retrograde state of popu la.

tion, wherever it is found, in spite of the great

fecundity of the species.



135

This latter fact, population nearly stationary in

all nations arrived to a certain degree of develop,merit, was for a long time scarcely rem ar ke d ; be-

cause it is but lately, that we have begun to occupy

ourselves with some success on social econom y. I t

lias ever been concealed by political commotions,

which have produced disturbers of it; and has been

disguised by the unfaithful or insufficient monu-

ments of history, which have authorize d m istakes.Finally, when it has been sufficiently observed and

established, it has been with difficulty attributed to

the real cause ; because they had not an idea suffi*

ciently clear of the progress of society, and of the

manner in which its riches and power are formed.

At this da y, it ap pe ars to me we are able to put

nil this beyond a doubt.

Let us recollect that society is divided into two

sreat classes, that of men, who, without having any

thing in advance, work for wages—and that of

men who employ them. T h is grante d, i t is evi-

dent that the first—taken in mass—live, daily and

yearly, only on what the totality of the secondhas to distribute to them every day and every year.

Now this latter class is of two kinds : the one lives

on their revenue, without labour.

T h e se are the lende rs of m oney, the lessors of

lands and houses—and in a word the annuitants of

every ki n d. It is very clear that these m en, in the

long run, cannot give more in a year to those theyemploy than the amount of their reve nue , or they

would encroach on their funds. T h e re is alw ays

a certain num ber wh o use them thu s, and w ho

ruin themselves. T h ei r consumption diminishes



136

or ceases; but it is replaced by those who become

enriched, and the total continues the same. T h isis but a change of hands, of which even the or-dinary quantity may be nearly estimated in the dif-ferent countries. These men, taken in mass, makeno profit; thus the sum total of their revenue, whichis devided amongst the hired, is a constant quantity.If it makes some insensible progress, it can only

be by the slow improvement in agricu lture; which,by rendering land a little more productive, fur-nishes ground for a small augmentation of rents.For as to the hire of their money lent, it does not•ary. If ever it did augment by a rise in the rateof interest, it would be an evil which, injuring manyenterprises, would diminish much more the faculties

of the second class, who feed those who work forwages.

This second kind of persons is composed ofthose who join to the product of their capital, thatof their personal activity, that is to say the under-takers of any kind of industry whatsoever. I twill be said thai these make profits, and augment,

their means annua lly ; but, first, this is not true ofall. Many of them manage their affairs badly, andgo to decay instead of thriving. Secondly, those whoprosper, cease to labour after a certain time, and goto fill the void which is daily produced in the classof those who live without doing any thing , by the fallof spendthrifts withdrawing from it inconsequenceof having badly managed their fortunes. Third ly ,i s fine, and this is decisive, this class of under-takers has necessary limits, beyond which it can-not go. T o form any enterprize whatever, it is not



sufficient to have the desire ami means: it is neces-

sary to be able to dispose of the products in an ad-vantag eous m anne r, which more than defrays the

expe nses they cost. W h e n once all profitable em-

ploy m ents are filled, no new ones can be crea ted,

unless others fall, at least unless some new vents

are ope ned . T h i s secon d fund for the support of

the hired class is also, then, in our ancient societies,

u quautity nearly constant like the first.T hi ng s being thu s, we see clearly why the num-

ber of hired does not augm ent, when the funds wh ich

might provide for their support, cease to increase.

It is because all who are born beyond the re-

quisite num ber perish through want of the means

of existence. T h is is very easy to be conceived.

W e even com prehend that it is impossible for it tobe otherwise, for every one knows that if four per-

sons are da ily to divide a loaf of brea d, barely

sufficient for two, the weaker will perish, and the

stronger will subsist only because they quickly

inherit the portion of the others.

If we further observe, that when the men who

live solely on their revenues multiply so much that

th is revenue suffices for them no lon ger, they re -

turn into the class of those who join their labour to

the product of their funds; that is to say of those

whom we have called undertak ers— and that when

these, in their turn, become too num erous, m any are

received and link into the class of hirelings, we

shall see that this latter class receives as we may

say the too great plenitude of all the o th e rs ; and

that, consequently, the limits beyond which it can-

not 30 are those of the total production.



138

T h is single point, we ll elucidated, gives us an

explanation of all the phenomena relative to po-pulation. It show s w hy it is retrograde in one

country, stationary in another, whi le it is rapidly

progressive in a third; why it is arrested some-

times sooner sometimes later, according to the de-

gree of intelligence and of activity of different

people, and the nature of their governments; why

it is quickly re-established after great calamities ofa transient nature, wh en the means of existence

have not been destroyed; why, on the contrary,

without any violent shock, it sometimes languishes

and perishes gradually, from causes difficult to be

perce ived, from the s ingle change of a circumstance

little remarkable. In a word, it gives us the solu-

tion of all the questions of this kind, and moreoverfurnishes us with the means of drawing therefrom

an infinity of important consequences. I am only

embarrassed with their number, and the choice of

those which I ought to notice.

I will commence by remarking, with satisfaction,

that humanity, justice and policy, equally require

that of all interests, those of the poor should always

be the most consulted, and the most constantly res-

pected ; and by the poor I mean simple hirelings,

and every where those whose labour is worst paid.

First, humanity: for we should observe, that

when it respects the poor, the word interest has quite

a different degree of energy, from what it has whenmen are spoken of whose wants are less urgent, and

sometimes even imaginary. W e every day say , that

the interests of one minister are contrary to those of

another ; that such a body has interests opposed to



139

those of ano ther b ody ; that it is the intere st of cer-

tain undertakers, that the raw material should sellhigh ; aud the interest of some others to buy them

low . A nd we often espouse these motives w ith

w arm th as if they were worth the trou ble. Ye t this

m eans no more than that some men believe, and often

erroneously, that they have a little more or a little

less enjoyment un de r some circumstances than

und er others. T h e poor, in his small sphe re, ha s,assuredly, also interests of this kind; but they dis-

appear before g reater o n es ; we only do not per-

ceive them—and, when we attend to him, the

question is almost always on the possibility of his

existence or the necessity of his destruction, that is

to say of his life or his de ath . H um anity does not

perm it interests of this kin d to be placed in thebalance with simple conveniences.

Ju stic e is equ ally opposed to i t ; an d, moreover,

it obliges us to take into consideration the number

of those intere sted . N o w , as the low est class of soci-

ety is every where much the moat numerous, it fol-

lows, that whenever it is in opposition with others,w hat is useful to it, ought alw ay s to be preferred .

Po licy lead s us to the same re su lt: for it is w ell

ag reed, that it is useful to a nation to be num erous

and powerful. N o w it has just been proved, that

the extent to which the lower class can go, is that

which determines the limits of the total population;

and it is not less so by the experience of all ages andcountries, that wherever this lowest class is too

wretched, there is neither activity, nor industry, nor

knowledge, nor real national force—and we may

even say, nor iuterior tranquillity well established.



140

This granted, let us examine what arc the real

interests of the poor; and we shall find that, cfl'ect-ually, they are always conformable to reason andthe general interest. If they had always beenstudied in this spirit, we shonld have acquiredsounder ideas of social order, and we would nothave eternized war—sometimes secret, sometimesdeclared—which has always existed between the

poor and the rich. Prejudices produce difficulties,reason resolves them.

W e have already seen, that the poor are as muchinterested in the maintenance of the right of pro-perty as the most opulent: for the little they possessis every thing for them, and of consequence infinitelyprecious in their eyes; and they are sure of nothing,but so far as property is respected. They havestill another reason for wishing i t ; it is that thefunds on which they live , the sum of the capitals ofthose who employ them, is considerably diminishedwhen property is not assured. T hus they have adirect interest, not only in the preservation of whatthey possess, but also in the preservation- of what ispossessed by others. Accordingly—notwithstand-ing that from the fatal effects of misery, of badeducation, of the want of delicacy, and of a senseof injustice—it would perhaps be true to say, thatit is in the lowest class that most crimes are commit.ted * it is, however, also true , that it is this class

which has the highest idea of the right of property,and in which the name of thief is the most odious.

• TtaU it very doubtful, if we ta le into consideration the difference ine noubvr of individuals.



141

IJut when you speak of property, comprehend un-

der this term, as the poor do, personal property, asw ell as that w hich is moveable and iramoveablo.

The first is even the most sacred, since it is the

source of the others . R es pe ct tha t, in them , as you

wish they should respect, in yo u, those which are

derived from i t ; leave to him the free disposition

of his faculties, and of the ir emp loym ent, as you

wish him to leave to you that of you r lan ds andcap itals. T h i s rule is as politic, as it is ju st an d

unattended to.

After the free disposition of his labour, the great-

est interest of the poor man is that this labour

shou ld be de arly pa id . A gain st this I hear violent

outcries. A ll the sup erior classes of society— and

in this view I even comprehend the smallest chief

of a wo rkshop — desire that the w ages should be

very low, in order that they may procure more

labour for the same sum of m on ey ; and they desire it

with so much fury, that w hen they can, and the law s

permit them , they employ even violence to attain this

end,— and they prefer the labour of slav es, or serfs,because it is still at a low er ra te. T h es e men do

not fail to say, and persuade, that what they think

is their interest, is the general interest; and that the

low price of w ages is absolutely neces sary to the de-

velopment of indu stry , to the extension of manu -

factures and commerce,—in a word, to the property

of the state. L et us see how mu ch truth there is intlies* observations.

I know it would be disagreeable that the price

of w orkm anship should he so dear as to rend er it

economical to draw from abroad all tran spo rtab le



14&

things: for then those engaged in their fabrication

would suffer, and wo uld become ex tin ct ; it wouldbe a foreign population which the consumers wou ld

pa y, and support, instead of a national one. B ut,

first, this degree of dearness wou ld be no longer

for the interest of the poor, since, instead of being

w ell paid, they would want employm ent; and ,

moreover, it is impossible, or at least it could not

con tinue ; because, on one part, the hirelings wouldlower their pretentions so soon as they found them-

selves out of em ploy ; and, on the other, if the price

of a days's work still remained so high as to afford

them a great degree of ease, they would soon mul-

tiply sufficiently to be obliged to offer their labour

at a low er rate. I add that if nevertheless the price

of workm anship should still remain too high, itwould no longer be to the scarcity of workmen

that it ought to be attributed, but to unskilfulness

and bad w orkm anship; and then it would be the

unskilfulness, ignorance, and lazin ess, of men w hich

ought to be combated. T h ese are effectually the

true causes of the languor of industry, wherever it

is remarked.

B ut where are these sad causes met with ? I s it

not always and uniformly there where the lowest

elass of the people is most miserab le? T h is for-

nishes me new arms against those who believe it to

be s o useful, that labour should be ba dly paid. I

maintain that their avidity blinds them . D o yo uw ish to assure yourselves of it ? Compare the two

extremes, St. Domingo and the United States; or,

rather, i( you wish objects nearer together, compare

fa the United State?, the northern with those of the



south. T h e first furnish only very common articles ;

workmanship is there at a rate that may he calledexce ssive— yet they are full of vigour and pros-

perity, while the others remain in langour and

stagnation, although they are adapted to produc-

tions the most precious, and that they employ the

species of labourers the worst paid— nam ely slaves.

What this example particularly demonstrates

w e see in all times, and in all plac es ; wherever

the lowest class of society is too wretched, its

extreme misery, and its abjectness—which is a

consequence of it— is the death of industry, and the

principle of infinite ev ils , even to its oppressors.

The existence of slavery among ancient nations

should be regarded as the soured of their principalerrors in economy, m orality and po litics, and the

first cause of their continual fluctuation between

anarchy, turbulent, and often ferocious or an atro-

cious tyranny. T h e slavery of the negroes, or

aborigines in our colonies, w hich had so many means

of prosperity, is equa lly the cause of their languor,

their weakn ess, and the gross vices of their inhabi-tants. T h e slavery of serfs of the soil, wherever it

has existed, has equally prevented the development

of all industry, of all sociability, and of all political

strength ; and even in our own da ys , it has reduced

Po land to such a state of weakn ess, that an immense

nation existed for a long time only through the

jealousy of its neighbors, and has ended by seeingits territory divided as ea sily as a private patrimony,

so soon as the pretenders to it have come to an

agreement among them selves. If from these ex -



144

treme cases— without attend ing to the fuvy of the

rabble in France, or to the excesses of John of Ley-

den an d his peasants in Germ any,— we come to the

calamities caused by the populace of Holland,

excited by the house of Orange: to the disquietudes

arriving from the lazzarone of Naples, the trans-

tibcrians of Rome; and, in fine, to the embarrass-

ments which even at this moment are caused in

England, by the enormity of the poor tax, and the

immensity of its wretched population, which noth-

ing but punishments can restrain; I think all man-

kin d will agree that w hen a conside rable portion

of society is in a state of too g rea t suffering, an d

consequently too much bruta lized , there is neithe r

repose nor safety, nor liberty, possible even for

the powerful and ri c h ; and that, on the contrary,

these first citizens of a state are really much great-

er, and hap pier, whe n they are at the head of a

people enjoying honest ease , which developes in

them all their intellectual and moral faculties.

On the whole, I do not pretend to conclude, that

the poor ought to employ violence, to fix the pricewhich they m ay dem and for their labour. W e

have seen th at the ir first interest is a resp ect for

property; but I repeat that the rich ought no more

to fix this price authoritatively, that it ought to

leave to them the most free and entire disposition of

their slende r m eans. A nd here justice also pro-

nounces in their fav ou r; and I ad d, tha t they oughtto rejoice if the e mploym ent of their m ean s pro cure

them an honest ease, for policy proves that it is the

general good.



145

Observe, also, that if it is just and useful to

allow every man to dispose of his labour, it iseq ually so—and for the same reasons— to allow him

to choose his residence . T h e one is a consequence

of the other. I know nothing more odious, than

to prevent a man from emigrating from his country,

w ho is there so wretched as to wish to quit it, in sp ite

of all the sentiments of nature, and the whole force

of ha bit s, which bind him to it. I t is moreovera b su rd : for since it is clearly proved, there are al-

ways in every country as many men as can exist in

it under the given circumstances, he who goes away

only yie lds his place to an other w ho would

have perished if he had rem ained. T o wish that

he should remain, is as if two men being inclosed

in a box, w ith air but for one, it should be wish ed

that one or both should be smothered, rather than

suffer either one or the other to go out. E m ig ra -

tion , far from bein g an ev il, is never a sufficient

su cc our ; it is alw ays too painful to resolve on it

for it to become in an y degree con sidera ble, the

vexations must be frightful; and even then the voidit op erate s, is quickly filled, as that wh ich resu lts

from great epidemics. I n these un hap py cases, it

is the sufferings of men th at ought to be re gr ett ed ;

and not the diminution of their number.

A s to imm igration I say no thing . I t is alw ay s

useless, and even hurtful, unless it be that of some

men w ho bring new kno wled ge. B ut then i t istheir knowledge, and not their persons, that is pre-

cious; and such are never very num erous. W e

m ay without injustice proh ibit im m igra tion ; and it

is this precisely of wh ich governm ents have never



146

thought. I t is true they have still more rarely fur-

nished many motives for desiring it.After sufficient wages—which is of first import-

ance to the poor—the next is, that these wag es

should be constant. In fact it is not a momentary

augmentation, or accidental increase, of his profits

which can ameliorate his situation. Improvidence

is one and perhaps the greatest of his e vils. A n

extravagant consumption alw ay s destroys quick lythis extraordinary surplus of means, or an indis-

crete multiplication divides it among too many.

When then this surplus ceases, those who lived on

it per ish, or those who enjoyed it must restrict them-

selv es ; and in the latter case it is never the con-

sumptions least useful which cease first, because

these are the most seducing. T h en misery recom-

mences in all its horrors, with a greater degree of

intensity. T hu s we may say, in general terms,

that nothing which is transient is really useful to

the poor; in this also he has the same interests as

the social body.

This truth excludes many false political combin-ations, particularly if w e join with it this other

maxim equally true—that nothing forced is dura-

ble. It teaches us, also, that it is essential to

the happiness of the mass of a nation, that the

price of provisions of the first necessity should vary

the least possible: for it is not the price of wages

in itself that is important; it is their price com-pared with that of the things necessary for life. I f

for two sous I can buy bread sufficient for the day,

I am better nourished than if I were to receive ten

sous, wh en twelve wo uld be necessary to complete



147

my daily ration* Now we have before shewn

(Chap. 4th. and elsewhere) that the rate of thelowest wages is regulated, and cannot fail of beingregulated in the long run, by the price of the thingsnecessary to existence. If the price of necessariessuddenly abates, hirelings without doubt profit mo-mentarily ; but without durable utility to them, aawe have jus t said. This , then, is not desirable. If,

on the contrary, this price augments, it is muchworse; and the evils which result aggravate eachother. Firs t, he who has nothing more than what isnecessary— has nothing to spare —thus all the poorare in distress: but, moreover, in consequence ofthis distress, they make extraordinary efforts; theyare more urgent to be em ployed; or in other words,they offer more labour. Other persons who livedwithout labour, have need of this resource—thereis no employment for them. They are hurtful toone another by this concurrence. This occasion istaken to pay them less, when they have need ofbeing better paid. Accordingly, constant expe-rience proves that in times of want wages fall,because there are more workmen than can be em-ployed ; and this continues till a return of abun-dance, or till they perish.

It is then desirable that the price of commodities,and above all that of the most important, shouldbe invariable. W hen we shall come to speak of

legislation, we shall see—that the mean of makingthis price as little variable as possible, is to leavethe most entire liberty to commerce; becausethe activity of speculators, and their competition,makes them eager to take advantage of the smallest



14$

fall to buy, and the smallest rise to sell again; and

thus they prevent either the one or the other frombecoming excessive. T his method is also them ost conformable with a respect for property, forthe just and the useful are always united. F o rthe present let us limit ourselves to our conclusion,and extend it to other objects.

Sudden variations, in certain parts of industry and

commerce, occasion—though in a manner less gen-eral—the same effect as variations in the price ofcommodities. W he n any branch of industry what-ever takes suddenly a rapid increase, there is agreater demand for labour than in ordinary:— aprofit here results to the labou rers; and they use itas all other momentary profits, that is to say badly.But afterwards should this industry be relaxed orextinguished, distress ar riv es ; every one must seekresources. In truth there are many more in thiscase than in that of a clearness, which is a universalmisfortune. T h e unoccupied workmen here maygo elsewhere. But men are not abstract and insen-

sible beings. The ir removals are not made with-out sufferings, without anguish, without breakingup imperious habits. A workman is never soadapted to the business he seeks as to that which he isforced to quit. Besides he is there superfluous—heproduces repletion, and consequently a depres-sion of the ordinary wages. T hus every one suffers.

This ie the great unhappiness of nations predom-inating in commerce, and the inconvenience of anexaggerated development of industry, a develop-ment which from being exaggerated is subject tovicissitudes, it is what at least should prove, that



14§

it is very imprudent for a political society to seek

to procure a factitious prosperity by forced means.

It can but be fragile, it is enjoyed without happi-

ness, and is never lost without extreme ev ils.

I t has been remarked that nations essentially

agricultural are less subject to suffer from these

sudden revolutions of industry and commerce, iu

consequence, the stability of their prosperity hasbeen greatly vaunted, and to a certain point with

reason. But I think it has not been sufficiently

remarked, that they are more exposed than com-

mercial nations to the most cruel of all variations,

that of the price of grain : it seems that this ought

not to be, and yet it is, it is even easy to find the

reason. A people devoted to agriculture are spreadover a vast territory. T h is territory is either en -

tirely inland, or if it borders on some sides on the

sea, it has necessarily a great portion of its extent

de ep ly inland . W h en the crops fail their suc-

cours can only be carried by land, or by ascending

rivers, a kind of navigation, always very expen-

sive and often impossible. N o w as grain andother alimentary matters, are articles of great bur-

then, it happens that when they are brought to the

place in which they are wanted, their price from

the expenses of transportation, is so high, that

scarcely any one can purchase, accordingly it is

known from experience that all importations of this

kind in times of calamity, have merely served to

console and calm the imagination; but have never

been real resources: the poor then must absolutely

restrict his consumption so as to suffer greatly, and

the most destitute must perish. There is no other



1 50

mean of preventing tlie who le from perishing, wh en

the dearth is very great. It is in this case that ina besieged town, all the useless mouths if possible

are sent away. It is the same calculation. T h e

defence would still be prolonged, if they dared to

rid themselves of all the defenders who are not

indispensable ; but the consumption of war operates

their destruction: and it is perhaps this eruel—but

wise combination, which determines the otherwise

useless sorties, made by* certain governors near

the end of a seige—sorties very different from those

made at its commencement, in mere bravado.

Men would greatly augment the security of their

existence, and the possibility of their occupying

certain countries, if they could reduce alimentarymatters to small bulk, and consequently to easy

transportion. In truth, they would imm ediately

abuse this faculty, to injure themselves, as Shep-

herd tribes avail themselves of the facility of trans-

portation produced by the celerity of their beasts

of burden, to become brigands: for nothing is so

dangerous as a transportable man. W e have on lyto observe the enormous advantage wh ich temper-

ance gives to armies in invasion s. T h is is the

power of the species badly employed; but in short

it is its power—and it is this power which, in case

of dearth, is wanting to agricultural and peaceful

nations, spread over a vast territory.

Commercial nations, on the contrary, are eitherinsular, or extended along the coasts of the sea .

Access ible every where, they may receive succour

from all countries. In order that clearness should

become excessive in these nations, for the price



151

to become excess ive with these peo ple , the crops

must have failed in all the habitable globe. E v e nthen it would only rise to the mean rate of general

de arn ess , and never to the extreme rate of the local

dearness of the inland countries most destitute.

T h e s e nations , then , are exem pt from the greatest

of d isa st er s; an d, as to the less general evils result-

ing from the revolutions which take place in some

brauch es of indu stry and co m m erce ; I observe

that they are rare ly exposed to them if th ey have

left to this industry and to this commerce their na-

tura l course— and if they have not employed violent

m eans to give them an exagg erated extension. I

conclude, not only that their condition is better, but

also that their misfortunes are produced by th eir

faults, w hils t those of the others proceed from the ir

po sitio n; and that thus they have more m eans of

avoiding these misfortunes. W e w ere necessarily

le d to this re sult, and oug ht to have seen it in ad-

vance : for since society—which is a continual com-

merce—is the cause of our power and of our own

resources ; it would be contradictory, that wherethi s commerce is the most perfect, and most active,

we should be more accessible to misfortune.

If, therefore, it we re proved tha t the pro spe rity

of commercial nations w as less solid, and less du ra-

ble, (a fact I d o not believe tru e, at leas t amongst

m od ern s)* it would be necessary, I rs t, to distin-

guish between happiness and pow er— and to re-

* The examples of the ancients prove nothing, because their political

economy was entirely founded on force. The inland people were brigands,

the maritime people pirates.— All wished to be conquerors. Then chance

determines the destiny of a nation.



15S

mark, that in the calamities of which we have just

spoken—the happiness of individuals in agricultu-ral nations is much at hazard, but their power sub-

si st s; because the loss of men, w ho per ish in

dearth, is quickly repaired by new births when it

ceases—the habitual means of existence, not having

been destroyed ; w hereas in a comm ercial nation,

wh en a branch of industry is annih ilated, it is som e-

times annihilated without return, and without apossibility of being replac ed by an ot he r; so tha t

tli at pa rt of th e pop ulation w hich it brings to ru in

cannot be again restored. B ut, as we have said,

this latter case is ra re , wh en not provoked by faults.

If, independently of this, it were proved that the

prosperity of commercial nations is frail, in propor-

tion to the int erna l vices to which th ey ar e subject,it would not be pro pe r to imp ute it to comm erce

itself, but to accidental causes— and principally to

the m anner in wh ich riches are frequently intro-

duced into these states , wh ich favours extrem ely

their very unequal distribution; and this is the

grea test an d most gen eral of evils. On ex -

am ination, we should find the re, as ev ery w he re,

the hum an race hap py from the developm ent and

increase of i ts m ea ns ; but ready to become unh ap-

py from the bad use it m akes of them . T h e dis-

cussion of this question, in al l its exte nt, w ill find

its place elsewhere.

H ow ev er, it m ay be , it is then certain that thepoor are proprietors as w ell as the ri c h ; that in

their qu ality of proprietors of their pe rsons, of their

faculties, and of their product, they have an interest

in being a llow ed the free disposition of the ir perso ns



153

and labour; that this labour should produce them

sufficient wages; and that these "wages should varyas little as possible, that is to say they have an in-

terest that their capital should be respected, tha t

this capital shou ld produce the revenue nece ssary

for existence, and that this revenue if possible

should be alw ay s the same ; and in all these

points their interests conform to the general interest.

But the poor is not only a proprietor, he is also a

consumer: for all men are both the one and the

othe r. In this latter qua lity he has the same

interest as all consumers, that of being provisioned

in the best and cheap est manner possible. It is

necessary then for him, that manufacture should be

very expert, communications easy, and relations

m ultiplied : for no one has a greate r need of being

supplied on good terms than he who has few means.

W h a t must be thought then of those wh o ma intain

that ameliorations of the methods and the invention

of machines, which simplify and abrid ge the pro-

cesses of art, are an evil for the po or ? M y answ er

is that they have no idea of their real interest, nor

of those of society : F o r one must be blind not to

see that wh en a thing which required four da ys

labou r can be m ade in one , every one for the same

sum can procure four times as m uc h ; or, con sum ing

only the same quantity, may have three-fourths of

his money rema ining to be employed in procuring

other enjoymen ts— and certainly this adva ntage isstill more precious to the poor than to the rich. B ut ,

say they, the poor gained these four days labour—

and now he w ill gain but one. B ut, say I , in my

turn, you forget then that the funds on which all the



154

hirelings live are the sum of the means of those w ho

employ them ; that this sum is a quantity nearlyconstant; that it is alw ays employed annu ally; that

if a particular object absorbs a smaller part of it,

the surplus, which is economised, seeks other desti-

nations ; and that thus, while it is not dim inished,

it hires an equal number of labourers—and that

moreover, if there is a mean of augm enting it, it is

by rendering fabrication more econ om ical; becausethis is the mean of opening new vents, and of giving

possibility to new enterprises of industry— which

are as we have seen , the only sources of the increase

of our riches. T hes e reasons appear to me decisive.

If the contrary reasons were valid, we should have

to conclude that nothing is more beneficial, than the

execution of useless labour, because there is alw ays

the same number of persons occupied; and that

there would not remain fewer for the execution of

the same quantity of necessary labour. I grant this

second point. But , first, this useless labour would

be paid with funds wh ich would otherwise have

paid for useful labour and which will not payit— thus nothing is gained on this side. Se con dly,

from this unfruitful labour nothing rem ain s; and, if

it had been fruitful, there would have remained from

it useful things for procuring enjoym ents, or capable,

by being exported, to augment the mass of acquired

riches. It appears to me that nothing can be

answered to this, when we have once clearly seen onwhat funds hirelings live. T h is series of combina-

tions w ill occur when we shall speak of the em ploy,

inent of our riches. It is for this I have deve loped

i t : F or so much reasoning appears unnecessary to



155

prove that labour acknowledged useless is useless,

and tha t it is more useful to execute useful labou r.N o w to this single truth is reduce d the apology for

machines and other improvements.

T h e y have made against the construction of roads

and canals, and generally against the facility of com-

munications, and the multiplicity of commercial

relations the same objections as those I have ju st

refuted. I give them the same answ er. It hasmoreover been pretend ed that all this is in ano ther

w ay hurtful to the poor, by raisin g the price of provi-

sions. T h e truth is, that it raises their price at

times w hen they are too low from the difficulty of

expo rting th e m ; but i t reduces their price, w hen

too high from the difficulty of im porting the m .

T h u s i t renders the prices more constantly e q u a l;and I conclude, on the principles we have establish-

ed, that it is a great benefit to the poor and to society

in general.

I ad m it, how ever, that a ll these innovations, advan-

tageous in them selves, may sometimes produ ce at

first a m om entary and pa rtial restraint— it is the

effect of all sudden changes; but, as the utility ofthese is general and durable, this consideration

ought not to reta rd them . I t is only requisite tha t

society should give succour to those who suffer for the

m o m e n t; and this i t can easily do, when it is pros-

pering in the mass.

I t is then true that notw ithstanding the necessary

opposition of our particular interests, we are all uni-

ted by the common interests of proprietors and con-

sumers ; and, consequently, it is wrong to regard

the poor and the rich, or the hirelings and those



156

wh o employ them , as two classe s essentially enem ies.

I t is partic ularly true, tha t the real interests of thepoor are alw ay s the same as those of the society

t.iken in m ass. I do not pretend to say that the poor

alw ay s know their real interests. "Who is he that

alw ays has jus t ideas oa these ma tters, even am ongst

the enligh tened ? B u t, in fine, it is much tha t thin gs

are thus ; and it is a good thing to kno w it. T h e

greates t difficulty, in impress ing thi s, is , pe rh ap s, tobe able clearly to point out the cau se. T h is I think

we have now done . A rriving at this result, we have

examined by the way several questions, w hich,

w ithout diverting us from our ro ad, have retarded our

inarch. Y et I have not thought it right to pas s them

by without notice, because, in things of this kind,

all the objects are so intimately linked together thatthere is no one which, being well cleared up, does

not throw great light on all the others.

But we are not only opposed in interests, we are

also uneq ual in m eans. T h is second condition of

our nature deserves also to be studied in its conse-

quences, without which we cannot completely know

the effects of the distribu tion of our riches am ongdifferent in ividu als ; an d w e sh al l but imp erfectly

know w hat w e ought to think of the adv antages a nd

inconveniences of the increa se of these sam e rich es,

by the effect of soc iety. L e t us at first esta blish

some ge ne ral truths.

De claime rs have ma intained that inequality in

ge ne ral is useful, and th at it is a benefit for whichw e ought to thank Providenc e. I h ave but one

word to ans w er. Am ongst sensible beings, fre-

quen tly with opposite interests, justice is the great-



157

ost good : for that alone can so conciliate them ,

that none may have cause of comp laint. T h e n ine-quality is an evil not because it is in itself injustice,

but because it is a powerful prop to injustice wher-

ever justice is in favour of the weak.

Every inequality of means, and of faculties, is at

bottom an inequality of pow er. H ow ever, when we

enter into de tail, w e can and ought to distinguish

between the inequality of power, properly so called,and the inequality of riches.

The first is the most grevious—it submits the

person itself. I t exists ia all its ho rror among

brutal and savage men-—with them it places the

w eak at the mercy of the strong. I t is the cause

why among them there are the fewest relations

possible , for it would become insup po rtab le. If ithas not been alw ays rem arked among them, it is

because scarcely ever accompanied by an inequality

of ri ch es ; w hich is w hat strike s us most forcibly,

having it always under our eyes.

The object of the social organization is to combat

the inequality of power; and most frequently it

causes it to cease, or at leas t diminishes it. M en

shocked with the abuses still prevalent in society,

have pretended that, on the con trary, it augm ents

this ine qu alit y; and it must be confessed, that when

it totally loses sigh t of its destination it justifies the

reproach es of its bitterest detracto rs. F o r exam ple

wheresoever it continues slavery, pro perly so called,it is c ertain tha t savage indepe ndenc e, with all its

dan gers is still preferable. B ut it must be admitted

nevertheless that this is not the object of so cie ty;



158

and that it ten ds , m ost frequently with success, to

diminish the inequality of power.By diminishing the inequality of power, and thus

establishing security, society produces the deve lop-

men t of all our faculties, and increases our riches,

that is to say our means of existence and enjoyment.

But the more our faculties are developed, the more

their inequality appears and augments; and this

soon introduces the inequality of riches, whichbrin gs w ith it that of instruction, capacity and of

influence. H er e, in a w ord , as app ears to m e, are

the adv anta ges and inconveniences of society. T h is

view shows us w hat w e ha ve a righ t to expect from

it, and what we ought to do to perfect it.

Since the object of society is to diminish the

inequality of pow er, it ought to aim at its accom plish-m ent, and since its incon venience is to favour the

inequ ality of riche s, it ought constantly to endeavou r

to lessen it— alw ays b y gen tle, and never by violent,

m ea n s: for i t should a lway s be remem bered, that

the fundam ental ba se of society is a respect for

property, and its gurantee against all violence.

But it will be asked, when inequality is reducedentirely to an inequality of riches, is it still so great

an evil ? I answ er, bo ldly, y e s : F o r, first, bringing

w ith it an ineq uality of instruc tion, of cap acity, an d

of influence, it tends to re-estab lish the ineq ua lity of

pow er and consequen tly to subvert society. A ga in,

considering it only un der a n economical relatio n, w e

have seen that the funds on which hirelings live are

th e reven ues of all those w ho ha ve capitals ; an d

among these it is only un dertak ers of indu stry wh o

augment their riche s, and consequ ently the riches



109

of the nation. Now it is precisely the possessors of

great fortunes who are idle , and who pay no labourbut for their pleasure. T hus the more there are ofgreat fortunes, the more national riches tend todecay and population to diminish. T he exampleof all times, and all places, supports this th eo ry :F o r wherever you see exaggerated fortunes, * you

there see the greatest misery and the greatest stag-nation of industry.The perfection of society, then, would be to

increase our riches greatly, avoiding their extremeinequality. But this is much more difficult at certaintimes, and in certain places, than in others. Aninland agricultural people having few relations,

living on a sterile soil, unable to increase theirmeans of enjoyment but by the slow progress of itsculture, and the still slower progress of their manu-factures, will easily, and for a long time, avoid theestablishment of great inequality among theircitizens. If the soil is more rich— and especially,if in some places it produces articles in great

demand—large fortunes will be more easily ac-quired : If it has mines of precious metals, manyindividuals will certainly ruin themselves by work-ing them; but some will acquire immense riches:or, if the government reserves to itself this profit, itwill soon be enabled to procure for its creatures anexaggerated opulence; and it is very probable it

* To judge of the exaggeration of certain fortunes, consider their pro-

portions : for there may be Englishmen near as rich, or richer than the

greatest Russian or Polish lords ; but they live in the midst of a people

generally in much more ea-*y circumstances,— consequently the dispropor-

tion, though real, is much less.



160

will not fail to do it. T o o many causes concur to

produce this effect. F in a ll y , if you suppose thispeople, still poor, to become conquerors, to seize on

a rich country, and to estab lish them selves in it as

conquerors, here is at once the greatest inequality

introduced: First between the victorious and the

conquered nation, and afterwards among the con-

querors the m sel ve s: for w here force decides it is

very difficult to have equitab le pa rtitions . T h e lotsof the different individuals are as different, as their

degrees of au tho rity in the arm y or of favour with

the chief. M ore ove r, they are exposed to frequent

usurpations.

The fortune of maritime nations is generally more

rapid . Y et there we rem ark the same varieties.

Navigators may be reduced to small profits—to car-rying—to fishing—to commerce with nations from

wh ich great profits cannot be m ade. T h e n it is

easy for them to remain long nearly equa l am ongst

themselves. T h e y may, on the contrary, penetrate

iuto unknown regions; have in profusion the most

rare articles; establish relations with people from

whom they can derive imm ense profits; tak e to

themselves great m on op olies ; found rich colonies,

over which they hold a tyranical empire; or even

become conquerors, and import into their country the

productions of countries very extensive subjected by

their arms,—as the English in India, and the

Sp ania rds in South Am erica. In all these cases,

there is mo re or less of c ha nc e; but in all, a great

probability that their enormous riches will be very

unequally distributed.



101

Many other circumstances, without doubt, con-

nect themselves with these, and modify their effects.T h e different characters of people, the nature of

their government, the greater or less extent of their

information, and , above all, of their know ledge of

the social art in the moments wh ich decide their

fortune, occasion lik e events to have very differ-

ent consequences. If V asc o D e Gama and his

cotemporaries had had the same views and misfor-tunes as C ook, or La P eyr ouse, our relations witb

the Indies would be quite different from what they

are. It is above all remarkable, how much influ-

ence the epoch at which a political society begins to

be formed, has on the duration of its existence.

Certainly empires founded by Clovis or by Cortez,

or socie ties receiving their first law s from Lo cke or

Frank lin, ought to take very different directions;

and this we clearly perceive, in every period of their

history.*

It is these causes so different, and above all the

last, which produce the infinite variety remarked in

the destinies of nations, but the ground is everywhere the same. Society affording to every one se-

curity of person and property, causes the develop-

ment of our faculties ; this development produces

the increase of our riches—their increase brings on

sooner or later their very unequal div ision; and this

unequal division occasioning the inequality of power

* Th is is so striking, that I imagine there is no one who does not regret

that America was discovered three hundred years too soon, and wh« does

not even doubt whether it would ye t be a proper time for discovering i t.

It ia true that these even ts, however deplorable, have promoted our ulterior

progress ; but it is buying them very dear. It appears that such is our

destiny.



162

which society begun by re strain ing , and w as inten ded

to destro y, produces its w eak nes s, and sometimesits total dissolution.

It is doubtless this vicious circle which historians

have wished to represent to us by the youth and old

age of nations, and by what they call their primary

virtue, their primitive purity, then their 'degen eration,

the ir corrup tions, their effeminacy. But these vague

expressions, against which I have already protested,paint the facts very badly, and often lead astray even

those who employ them :—they tell us always of the

virtue of poor natio ns. C ertain ly wh ere equality

ren de rs injustice an d oppression more difficult, and

more rare, they are more virtuous from the fact it-

self— since fewer faults are com mitted. B ut it is

equality and not poverty which is their protection.

Otherwise the passions are the same there as else-

w he re. W h y incessantly represent to us commer-

cial nations as avaricious, a nd agricu ltural peop le

as models of moderation ? M en every wh ere hold to

their interests, and are occupied w ith them. T h e

Ca rthag inian s were not more avaricious than the R o -m a n s ; and the R om an s, who were the most cruel

usu rers at home and insatiable spoliators abro ad,

were quite as avaricious in what are called their best

t imes, as un der the em perors. T h e state of society

alone was different. I t is the same with the w ord

degeneration. Certainly w hen a part of ma nkind

has been accustomed to resign itself to oppres sion ,and ano ther part to abuse its power, we may w ell

say they have degenerated ; but, from the manner

in which this expression is often em ploy ed, w e



163

shou ld be led to believe they are n o long er born the

sam e— that n ature has changed— that the race isdep reciated— that they hav e no longer force or cou-

ra ge :— al l this is very false. W e h«ve a still greater

abuse of the expressions effeminate and effeminacy.

M onte squ ieu himself tells you grav ely, that the

fertility of the land effeminates its inha bi tan ts.* I t

nourishe s them and this is all. T o listen to certain

authors, we should suppose that there comes a time

wh en all the inh abita nts of a country live amidst de -

l ights , as those famous Sybarites of whom we have

been told so mu ch. T h is would be very happ y,

but it is imp ossible. W h e n you are told that a na-

tion is enervated by effeminacy, understand that

the re is abou t an hu nd reth pa rt of it, at most, cor-rupted by the habit of power and the facility of en-

joy m ent ; and that all the rest are deba rred by op-

pression , and devoured by m isery.f N o r are w e

less deceived in the sense of the exp ressio n, -poor

nations; it is there the people are at their eas e—

and the rich nations is where the people are com-

monly poor. I t is for this reason tha t some arestr on g, an d others often w eak . W e might mu ltiply

these reflections to inf inity; but all may be redu ced

* He say s of it ma ny other thing s. Se e bis 18th book of laws, in the re-

lation they have with the nature of the soil .

f And th ose famous delights of Capua ! and all those arm ies su dden ly

effeminated, by having found themselves in ab un da nc e! Ask of all the

gener als if their soldiers have b een the worse for having plentifully enjoy ed

the means of l ife for some time, unless they have suffered them to become

pil lagers, and undiscipl ined, by sett ing them the e xa m p le ; or the chiefs ,

hav ing mad e their fortune, are no longer ambitious. If it is this which has

hap pene d to the Car thaginian s, and oth ers, this is what thould have been

said, and not in vain rh etorical phra ses.



164

to this truth, which has not always been sufficiently

pe rceived ; the multiplication of our means of en joy,ment is a very good thing; their too unequal par-

tition is a very bad one, and the source of all our

evils. On this point still the interest of the poor is

the same as that of society. I think I have said

enough on the distribution of our ric hes; it is time

to speak of the use w e m ake of them.



CHAPTER XL

Of the emp loyment of our Riches, or of Con-

sumption,

After having seen how our riches are formed,

and how they are distributed among us, we are ar-

rived at the point of examining how w e use them,

*nd what are the consequences of the different uses

w e make of them. T h is is what w ill complete the

illustration o f the w hole course of society, and show

us what things are really useful or hurtful, as w el l

to the public as to individuals. I f in the two first

parts, we have well ascertained and explained the

truth, this will unravel itself, and every thing in it

w ill be clear and incontestable. If, on the con-

trary, w e have imperfectly view ed the first facts,

if we have not remounted to first principles, if our

researches have been superficial or led astray by aspirit of system, we are about to encounter difficul-

ties on difficulties; and there w ill remain in a ll w e

shall say many obscure and doubtful things, as has

happened to many others, and even to the most ca-

pable and learned. H ow ever the reader w ill jud ge.

W e create nothing ; w e annihilate no th ing ; but

w e operate cha nges, productive or destructive,of utility. W e procure for ourse lves means of en-

joyment, only to provide for our w a n ts ; and w e

cannot employ them in the satisfaction of these

wants; but by diminishing and even destroying



166

them . W e m ake cloth, an d, w ith this cloth, clothes,

only to clothe ourselves; and, by wearing, wewear THEM out; with grain, air, earth, water, and

manure, we produce alimentary matters to nourish

ourselves; and, by nourishing ourselves with them,

w e convert them into gas and m a nu re ; which again

produce m ore. T h is is w hat we call consumption.

Co nsum ption is the end of prod uction , but it is its

con trary. T h u s all production augments our

riches, and all consumption diminishes them.—*

Suc h is the gene ral law .

However there are consumptions of many kinds.

T h e re are some which are only ap pa ren t; others

very rea l, and even de stru ctiv e; an d some which

are fruitful. T h e y vary acco rding to the species ofconsumers, and the nature of the things consumed.

These differences must be examined and distin-

guished, in order clearly to see the effvct of general

consum ption, on the total mass of riches. Let us

begin by discussiug the consum ers. I haza rd this

expression, because it well expresses the end which

I propose to myself.W e a gree that we are all consumers, for we all

hav e w ants for which we cannot provide but by a

consumption of some k ind ; and th at also we are all

pro prie tors , for we all posses s some means of pro-

vidin g for our w an ts, w ere it only by our indivi-

du al force and capacity. Bu t we have also seen ,

tha t from the uneq ual man ner in which ricties aredistributed, in proportion as they are accumulated,

m any am ong us have no pa rt in these accum ulated

rich es, and possess in effect but their ind ivid ua l

force. T h e se have no other treasure than their



daily labour. T h is labour procures them wag es,

for which reason w e have called them speciallyhirelings; and it is with these wages they provide

for their consumption.

But whence are the wa ges raised ? Eviden tly

on the property of those to whom these hirelings

se ll their labour, that is to say on funds, in ad-

vance, which are in their possession,—and which

are no other than the accumulated products of la-bour previously executed. It follows thence, that

the consumption for which these riches pay, is

truly the consumption of the hirelings in this

sense, that it is them it su bsis ts ; but at bot-

tom it is not they who pay it, or at least they pay

it only with the funds ex isting in advance in the

hands of those who employ them. T h e y merelyreceive with one hand and give with the other.

Their consumption, therefore, ought to be regarded

as being made by those who pay them. I f even

they do not expend all they receive, these savings

raising them to the ranks of capitalists, enable them

afterwards to make expenditures on their own

funds ; but as they come to them from the same

hands, they ou^ht at first to be regarded as the ex-

penses of the same persons; thus to avoid double

reckoning of the same article in the economical cal-

culations, we must consider as absolutely nothing

the imm ediate consumption of hire lings, as hire-

lings ; and to consider not only all they exp en d,but even the whole they receive, as the real expen-

diture and proper consumption of those who pur-

chase their labour. T h is is so true, that to see

whether this consumption is more or les s destructive



168

of the riches acquired, or even if it tends to aug-

ment them as it often does, depends entirely onknowing what use the capitalists make of the labour

they purchase. T h is leads us to examine the con-

sumption of capitalists.

W e have said that they are of two kin ds, the

one id le, the other active. T h e first have a fixed

revenue, independent of all action on their part,

since they are supposed idle. T h is revenue con-sists in the hiring of their capitals— whether movcar

ble s, money or land,— wh ich they hire to those w ho

improve them by the effect of their industry. T h is

revenue, is , then, but a previous lev y on the pro-

ducts of the activity of the industrious ci tiz en s;

but this is not our present enquiry. W h a t w e wish

to see is, what is the employment of this revenue ?Since the men to whom it belongs are idle , it is evi-

dent they do not direct any productive labour. A ll

the labourers whom they pay are solely destined to

procure them enjoyments. W itho ut doubt these

enjoyments are of different kinds : For the least

wealthy they are limited to the satisfaction of the

most urgent wa nts;— for the others they are extend-

ed by degrees, according to their taste and means,

to objects of the most refined and unbridled luxury.

But, in fine, the expenses of all this class of men

are alike in this, that they have no object but their

personal satisfaction ; and that they support a nu-

merous population, to which they afford subsist-ence ; but wh ose labour is completely sterile. It is

how ever true, that amongst these expen ses some

may be found which are more or less fruitful ; as,

for exa m ple, the construction of a house, or the im-



169

provement of a landed estate. But these are parti,

cular cases, which place consumers of this kind mo-mentarily in the class of those who direct useful

enterprises and pay for productive labour. After

these trifling exceptions, all the consumption of this

species of capitalists is absolutely pure loss, in re-

lation to reproduction, and so far a diminution of

the riches acquired. A lso , w e must remark, that

these men can expend no more than their revenue :if they touch on their funds nothing replaces them,

and their consum ption exaggerated for a mnmeut,

ceases for ever.

The second class of capitalists, who employ and

pay hirelings, is composed of those whom we have

called active. It comprehends all the undertakers

of any kind of industry whatsoever, that is to say allthe men who having capitals of a greater or smaller

amount, em ploy their talents aud industry in im-

proving them them selves , instead of hiring them to

others ; and w ho , consequently live neither on

wages nor revenues but on profit. T hese men

not only improve their proper capitals, but all those

also of the inactive capitalists. T h ey take on rent

their lands, houses, and money, and employ them

so as to derive from them profits superior to the

rent.* T h e y have then in their hands almost all

the riches of society. It is m oreover to be remark,

ed, that it is not only the rent of these riches they

annually exp end , but also the funds them selves ;

* Idle capitalists, sometim es rent houses and money to the idle cap i.

talists : Rut the latter pay the rent only with their own revenues ; and

to find the formation of these revenues we must always remount to lit*

dustr ious capi talis ts. As to lands the y alm ost always rent them to. ufi«

dertakers of culture, for what would tho H ie nuk e of them ?



170

and sometimes several times in the year, when the

course of commerce i s sufficiently rapid to enablethem to do so ; for, as in their quality of industrious

men they make no expenditures which do not re-

turn to them with profit, the more of them they can

make which fulfil this condition, the greater will be

their profit. W e see then that their consum p-

tion is imm ense, and that the number of hire lings

whom they feed is truly prodigious."We must now distinguish two parties in this enor-

mous consumption. A ll which is made by these

industrious men for their own enjoyment, and for

the satisfaction of their own wants and those of their

fam ily, is definitive and lost without return, lik e

that of the idle cap italists. On the who le it is mo-

derate, for industrious men are com monly frugal,and too often not very rich. But a ll which they

make for the support of their industry, and for the

service of this industry, is nothing less than defini-

tive,— it returns to them w ith profit; and , that this

industry may be sustained, its profits must at least

be equal not only to their personal and definitive

consumption, but also to the rent of the land and

money which they hold of the id le capitalists,

which rent is their sole revenue, and the only fund

of their annual ex pen se . I f the profits of the active

capitalists were less than these necessary previous

levies, their funds wo uld be encroached on ; they

would be obliged to dim inish their enterprizes ;they could no longer hire the same quantity of la-

bour •, they would even be disgusted with hiring

and directing this unfruitful labour. In the contra-

ry case they have an increase of funds, by means



171

of which they can increase their business, and their

demand for labour, if they can find a method ofemploying it usefully.

I shall be asked , how these undertakers of indus-

try are able to make such great profits, and from

whom they can draw them ? I answer, that it is by

selling whatever they produce for more than it has

cost them to produce it. And this is sold, first, to

them selves for all that part of their consumptionw hich is destined to the satisfaction of their ow n

wants, which they pay for with a portion of their

profits; Second ly, to hirelings, as w ell those in

their pay as in the pay of the idle capitalists; from

which hirelings they draw by this mean the whole

of their w ag es, except the small savings they may

possibly be able to m ak e; Th irdly , to the idlecapitalists, who #pay them with the part of their

revenue wh ich they have not already g iven to

the hirelings whom they employ directly, so that

all the rent which they annually disburse returns

to them by one or the other of these ways.

This is what completes that perpetual motion of

riches, wh ich although little understood has been ve-

ry well called circulation : for it is really circular,*

and always returns to the point from whence it de-

parted. T h is point is that of production. T h e

undertakers of industry are rea lly the heart of the

body politic, and their capitals are its blood. W ith

these capitals they pay the wa ges of the greatestpart of the hirelings ; they pay their rents to all

• And why is it circula r and continual ? Because consumption con-tinually destroys that which has been produced. If reproduction didnot incessantly establish it, all would be finish ed after the first turn.



178

the idle capitalists, possessors either of land or mo-

ney ; and by them the wages of all the rem aininghirelings ;—and all this returns to them by the ex-

penditures in all these ways, which pay them more

for what they have had produced from the labour of

their immediate hirelings, than the wages of these,

and the rent of the lau d and money borrow ed, have

cost them-

But 1 shall be told, if this is really so, if the un-derta kers of ind ustry in fact re ap an nu ally more

than they have sown, they should in a short time

obtain possession of all the public wealth; and

there would remain in a state but hirelings without

auy thing in adv ance, a nd und ertakers with capi-

ta ls . This is true, a"nd things would be effectively

thus if these undertakers, or their heirs, did not re-tire from business in proportion as they become

rich, and continually recruit the class of idle capi-

talists. And, notwithstanding this frequent emigra-

tion, it happens still that when industry lias operat-

ed for a considerable time in a country, without too

great disturbances, its capitals are always augment-

ed not only in propo rtion to the increase of totalw ealth, but yet in a much greater. T o be assured

of this, we have only to see how slender these capi-

tals were, through all Europe, three or four centu-

ries ago, in comparison with the immense riches of

all the powerful men, and how much they are mul-

tiplied and increased at the present day, while the.

others have diminished. W e may add that thiseffect would be still much more sensible, were it not

for the immense levies which all governments an-

nua lly raise on th e industrious class by m eans of



173

imposts; but it is not yet time to occupy ourselves

with this subject.It is not necessary to observe, that at the com-

mencement of society, before riches have become

very unequal, there are scarcely any simple hire-

lings , and still fewer idle capitalists. E ve ry one

working for himself, and making exchanges with

his neighbours, is a real undertaker, or momentari-

ly a hireling when he occasionally works for anotherfor a recompense. E ven afterwards, when the dif-

ferent conditions have become more separate by the

effect of inequality, the same man may and often

does appertain to several at the same time. T hus

a simple hireling, who has some small savings plac-

ed at interest, is in this respect an idle ca pita list;

as is also an undertaker who has a part of his fundsrealised in leased lands ; while a proprietor of like

lands, or a lessor who is a public functionary, is in

this respect a hireling. But it is not less true, that

those who live on w age s, those who live on rents, and

those who live on profits, constitute three classes of

men essentially different; and that it is the last

which aliment all the others, and who alone aug-ment the public wealth, and create all our means

of enjoyment. T h is must be so, since labour is the

scource of all riches,—and since they alone give an

useful direction to the actual labour, by a useful im-

provement of the labour accumulated.

I hope it will be remarked, how well this man-ner of considering the consumption of our riches

agrees with all we have said of their production and

distribution ;* and, at the same time, how much

• In fact we here gee clearly, why production is arrested , when thefruitful consumption of industry can no longer be augmented, and



light it throws on the whole course of society.

W he nc e comes this accordancy and this lacidness ?From this, that we have struck on the truth. T h is

resembles the effect of those mirrors in which ob-

jects are represented distinctly, and in their just

proportions when one is placed in the true point of

view; and where every thing appears confused, and

disunited, wh en one is too near or too distant. S o

here, so soon as it is acknowledged that our facul-ties are our only original riches, that our labour

alone produces all others, and that all labour

well directed is productive, every thing explains it-

self with admirable facility; but when, with many

political writers, you acknowledge no labour as

productive but that of culture, or place the source

of riches in consumption, you encounter in advane-ing nothing but obscurity, confusion and inextrica*

ble embarrassments. I have a lready refuted the

first of these two opinions— I shall soon discuss the

second. For the moment, let us conclude that there

are three kinds of consumers,— the hirelings, the

lessors, and the undertakers,—that the consumption

of the first is real and definitive ; but that it must

not be counted, because it m akes a part of the con-

sumption of those who employ them; that that of

the le ssors is definitive and destructive; and that

that of the undertaker is fruitful, because it is repla-

ced by a superior production.

If consumption is very different, according to thespecies of consumers, it varies likew ise according to

the nature of the things consumed. A ll represent

truly labour; but its value is fixed more solidly in

why the number and ease of men increase or decrease as the indiis*

try, &c. &c.



175

some than in others. A s much pains may have been

taken to prepare an artificial fire work as to find andcut a diam ond; and, consequently, one may have as

much value as the other. Bu t when I have pur-

chased, paid for, and employed the one and the

other,—-at the end of half an hour nothing remains

of the first, and the second may still be the resource

of my descendants a century to come, even if used

every day as an ornament of dress. It is the same

case with what are called immaterial products. A

discovery is of an eternal utility. A work of geniu s,

a picture, are likewise of an utility more or less du-

rable ; whi le that of a ba ll, concert, a theatrical re-

presentation, is instantaneous and disappear imme-

diately. W e may say as much of the personal ser-

vices of physicians, of lawyers, of soldiers, of domes-

tics, and generally of all occasionally called on.

Their utility is that of the moment of want.

A ll consumable thing s, of what nature soever,

may be placed between these two extremes, of the

shortest and longest duration. From this it is easy

to see. that the most ruinous consumption is the mostprompt, since it is that which destroys the most la-

bour in the same time, or an equal quantity of labour

in less time. In comparison with this, that which is

slower is a kind of hoarding ; since it leaves to fu-

turity the enjoym ent of a part of actual sacrifices.

T h is is so clear that it needs no proof: for every

one knows that it is more economical to have forthe same price a coat which will last three years,

than one which will last but three months; accord-

ingly this truth is acknow ledged by every body.

What is singular, is that it should be so even by



176

those who regard luxury as a cause of we alth: for if

to destroy is so good a thing, it seems that we can-not destroy too much, and that w e ought to think

with the man who broke a ll his furniture, to encou-

rage industry.

At the point to which we are now arrived, I do

not know how to accost the pretended mighty ques-

tion of luxury, so much and so often debated by

celebrated philosophers and renowned politicians;

or, rather, I do not know how to shew that it com-

prehends any m atter of doubt, nor how to give the

appearance of a little plausibility to the reasons of

those, very numerous however, who maintain that

luxury is useful: for, when preceding ideas have

been well elucidated, a question is resolved as soonas stated; and this is now the case.

In effect, he who names luxury, names superflu-

ous and even exaggerated consumption;—consump-

tion is destruction of utility. N o w how conceive

that exaggerated destruction can be the cause of

riches— can be production? It is repugnant to good

sense.W e are gravely told that luxury impoverishes a

small state and enriches a large one ; but what can

extent have to do with such a subject? and how

comprehend, that w hat ruins an hundred men

would enrich two hundred.

It is also said that luxury supports a numerous

population. W ithout doubt not only the luxu ry ofthe rich, but likewise the simple consumption of all

the idle who live on their revenues, supports a great

number of hirelings. »But what becomes of the la-

bour of these hirelings ? T ho se who employ them



177

consume its result, and nothing of it rem ains ; and

with what do they pay for this labour ? with theirrevenues, that is to say with riches already acquired,of which in a short time nothing will remain. Therethen is a destruction, not an augmentation of riches.But let us go further. W hence do these idle menderive their revenues ? Is it not from the rent paidto them out of the profits of those who employ theircapitals, that is to say of those who with their ownfunds hire labour which produces more than it costs,in a word the industrious men ? T o these then wemust always remount, in order to find the sourceof all wealth. I t is they who really nourish the hire-ling whom even the others employ.

But, say they, luxury animates circulation. The sewords have no meaning. They forget then what iscirculation. Let us recal it. W ith time a greater orsmaller quantity of riches are accumulated, becausethe result of anterior labours, has not been entirelyconsumed as soon as produced. Of the possessorsof these riches some are satisfied with drawing arent

and living on it. The se we have called the idle.Others more active, employ their own funds, andthose which they hire. They employ them to hirelabour, which reproduces them with profit. W iththis profit they pay for their own consumption, anddefray that of the others. Even by these Consump-tions their funds return to them a little increased,

and they recommence. T h is is what constitutes cir-culation. W e see that it has no other funds thanthose of the industrious citizens. I t can only aug-ment in proportion as they augment; nor be acce-lerated, which is still to be augmented, but in pro-



178

portion to the quickness of their returns: for if their

funds return to them at the end of six months, insteadof a year, they would employ them twice a year in-

stead of on ce; and this is as if they em ployed the

double. But the idle proprietors can do nothing of

this. They can but consume their rents in one way

or another. If they consume more one year they

must consume le ss another; if they do otherwise

they encroach on their cap itals. T h e y are obligedto sell them. But they can only be purchased with

funds belonging to industrious men, or lent to them,

and who paid for labour, which they will no longer

pay for, and for labour more useful than that em-

ployed by the prodigals. T h u s this is not an aug-

meutatiou of the total mass of expe nse, it is but a

transposition, a change of some of its parts, and a

disadvantageous change . T h u s even in ruining

them selves, the men wh o live on their revenues can-

not increase the mass of wages and of circulation.

They could do it only by a conduct quite opposite,

by not consuming the whole of their rent, and by

appropriating a part of it to fruitful expenditures.

But then they would be far from abandoning them-

se lve s, to the exaggerated and superfluous consump-

tion called luxury. T h e y would devote themselves

on the contrary to useful speculations, they would

range themselves in the industrious class.

Montesquieu, who in other respects understood

political economy very bad ly ,* believes the profu-sions of the rich very us efu l; " because, says he,

(book 7 th, chap. 4th ,) if the rich do not spend agreat

• Montesquieu was a very great man, but the science wa9 not

built in his tim e; it is quite recent.



deal, the poor must die of famine." W e perceiv*

from these few words, and many others, that he didnot know either whence the revenues of those whom

he calls rich are derived or what becomes of them.

Once more I repeat the revenues of the idle rich,

are but rents lev ied on industry ; it is industry alone

wh ich gives them birth. T heir possessors can do

nothing to augment them, they only scatter them,

and they cannot avoid scattering them. For if theydo not expend the whole for their enjoyments, un-

less they cast the surplus into the river or bury it,

wh ich is a rare folly , they replace it, that is to

say they form with it new funds for industry, which

it em ploys. T h u s even by economising they pay

for the same quantity of labour. A ll the difference

is that they pay for useful instead of useless labour,

and that out of the profits procured, they create for

themselves a new rent, which will augment the pos-

sibility of their future consumption.

Luxury, exaggerated and superfluous consump-

tion, is therefore never good for any thing, econom-

ically speaking. It can only have an indirect util-ity. W h ic h is by ruining the rich, to take from the

hands of idle men those funds w hich, being dis-

tributed amongst those Mho labour, may enable

them to economise, and thus form capitals in the in-

dustrious cla ss. But first th is would go directly

contrary to the intention of Montesquieu, who be-

lieves luxury advantageous, especially in a mo*na rchy ; and who at the same time thinks, that

the preservation of the same families, and the

perpetuity of their splendor is essentially necessary

to this kind of government. M oreover we must oh-



180

t erve with M . Say , that a taste for superfluous ex -

penses has its foundation in vanity, that it cannotexist in the superior class without gradually extend-

ing itself into all the othe rs; that it is there still

more fatal, because their means are le ss , and be-

cause it absorbs funds of which they made a better

u s e ; and thus it every w here substitutes use less for

useful expenses, and dries up the source of riches.

All this is in my opinion incontestable.Accordingly, our politicians no longer content

themselves with vaguely say ing, that luxury con-

stitutes the prosperity of the state, that it animates

circulation, that it enables the poor to live . T h e y

have made a theory for themselves. T hey establish

as a general principle, that consumption is the

Cause of production, that it is its measure, that

thus it is well it should be very great. T h ey af-

firm that it is this which makes the great difference

between public and private economy. T hey dare

not always positively say, that the more a nation

consumes the more it enriches itself. But they p er.

suade them selves, and maintain that w e must not

reason on the public fortune as on that of an indi-

vidu al, and they regard those as very narrow minds

which in their simplicity believe that in all cases

good economy is to be economical, that is to say to

make an useful employment of his m eans.* T here

• See M. Germain Gamier, in his elementary principles of political

economy abridged. Paris printed by Agasse, 1796. Page xii of his ad-vertiseroent, he says, form ally," T he p rinciples which serve as guidesin the administration of a private fortune, and those by which thepublic fortune should be direc ted, not only differ between themselves,but are often in direct opposition to each o the r." And page xiii,"T he fortune of an individual is increased by saving ; the public for-



181

is in all this a confusion of ideas, which it is well

to dispel and to restore light.Certainly consumption is the cause of produc-

tion ; in this sense, that we only produce in orderto consume, and that if we had no wants to satisfywe should never take the trouble of producing anything. Noth ing would then be to us either usefulor hurtful. I t is also the cause, in this sense, whyindustrious men produce only because they findconsumers of their productions. Hence it is said,with reason, that the true method of encouragingindustry is to enlarge the extent of the market,and thereby augment the possibility of selling.Under this point of view, it is also true to say thatconsumption is the measure of production, for wherevent ceases production stops. T his has also madeus say, that establishments of industry cannot bemultiplied beyond a certain te rm ; and that thisterm is where they cease to yield a profit: for thenit is evident, that what they produce is not worthwhat they consume. But from all this it does not

follow, for a nation any more than for an individu-al, that to expend is to enrich; nor that we may

tune, on the contrary, receives its increase from the augmentation ofconsumption." Page 130, in the chap ter on circulation, he likewisesays, "The annual production ought naturally to be regulated bythe annual consumption." Also, in the chapter on public debt, page240, he adds, " The amendment and extension of cultu re, and conse-quently the progress of industry and commerce, have no other cause

than the extension of artificial wants;" and concludes from this thatpublic debts are good things, inasmuch AS they augment these wants.The same doctrine, joined to the idea that culture is alone produc-tive, runs through his whole work, and his notes on Smith. All thisis very superficial and very loosp.



183

augment our expenses at pleasure ; nor even that

luxury augments them, for it only changes them.We must always return to production; this is thepoint of departure. T o enjoy we must produce;—this is the first step . W e produce only by avail-ing ourselves of riches already acquired; the morewe have of them, the greater are our means of pro-ducing ; they are consumed in expenses of produc-

tions, they return with profit. W e can expendannually but this annual profit. T h e more of it weemploy in useless things, the less will remain forthose which are useful. If we go beyond them.,we break in on our cap ita l; reproduction, and con-sequently future consumption, will be diminished.They may, on the contrary, be augmented if sav-

ings are made with which to form new capitals.Once m ore, then, consumption is not riches; andthere is nothing useful, under an economical pointof view, but that which reproduces itself withprofit.

No sophistry can ever shake truths so constant.If they have been mistaken, it is because the effecthas been taken for the cause; and , what is more,a disagreeable effect for a benificent cause. W ehave seen, that when a nation becomes rich a greatinequality of fortunes is established, and that thepossessors of large fortunes addict themselves togreat luxury. It has been believed that this causes

a country to prosper ; and hastily concluded thatinequality and luxury are two very good things.They ought, on the contrary, to have seen thatthese are two inconveniences attached to prosperi-



183

ty :* that the riches which cause them are acquired

before they exist; and that if these riches continuestill to increase, it is in spite of the ex istence of

these inconveniences, and through the effect of the

good habits of activity and economy which they

have not been able entirely to destroy. Bu t the

strongest personal interests contribute to give credit

to this error. Pow erful men are un willing to ac-

knowledge that their existence is an evil, andthat their expense is as useless as their persons.

On the contrary, they endeavour to impose by

p o m p ; and it is not their fault if w e do not be-

lieve that they render a great service to the state,

by swallow ing up a great portion of the means of

existence, and that there is much merit in knowing

how to dissipate great riches.f On the other hand,

• We have already seen, in the preceding chapter, how inequality

of riches is estab lished , or rather increases in so cie ty ; and, wh en

we shall treat of legislation, we will likew ise show that the exc ess of

inequa lity, and of luxury, is still m ore the effect of bad laws than of

the natural cause of things.

f It is incred ible to what leng th of illusion self-love lea ds, and

indu ces one to exaggerate to him self his personal importance. I

have seen men obliged, by the troubles of the times, to quit their

castles, who really believed that the whole village would want work

—without perceiving that it was their farmer, and not themselves,

who paid the greatest part of the wag es ; and since rely persuade

them selves that even if the ir peasants should divid e their effects*

or should buy them at a low price, the y would only be the more

miserable.

I do not pretend to My that it was w ell done eith er to drive them

away, or to despoil them ; nor even that such means can ever be the

cause of a durable prosperity. I have made my profession of faith on

the necessity of resp ect for property and ju stice in general. But it

is not the less true, that the absence of an useless man makes no

change in the course of things, or at most only changes the place of

a part of his small personal exp ens es j and that the m ere suppression

of some feudal r ights, produc es more go od to a country than all the

benefits of him w ho levied them .



ihose who depend on them on whom they impose

awe, and who profit by their exp enses , care verylittle wheth er the m oney they receive from them

would be better employed elsewhere, or if by being

better employed it would enable a greater number

of men to live. T h e y desire that this expense on

wh ich they live should be very g re at ; and they

iirmly believe that if it should diminish, they would

be witho ut res ou rce s: for they do not see wh atwo uld replace it. I t is thu s that general opinion

is led astray, and that those even who suffer from

it are ignorant of the cause of their evils. N ev er-

the less , it is certain tha t the vicious consum ption

called luxury, and in general all the consumption

of idle cap italists , far from being useful, des troy s

the greater part of the means of a nation's prospe-rity ; and this is so tru e, tha t from th e mom ent in

which a country, which has industry and know -

ledge, is by any mean delivered from this scourge,

we see there immediately an increase of riches and

of strength truly prodigious.

W h a t reason demon strates history proves by

facts. When was Holland capable of efforts truly

incredible? W h e n her adm irals lived as her sailors

did— wh en the arms of all her citizens were em-

ploye d in enriching or defending the sta te ; an d

none in cultivating tulips, or paying for pictures.

A ll subsequ ent even ts, political and comm ercial,

have united in causing its decline. It has preserved

the spirit of economy—it has still considerable

riches in a cou ntry in which every other peop le

could w ith difficulty live. M a k e of A m sterdam

the residence of a ga llan t an d magnificient court.



185

transform its vessels into embroidered clothes, and

its magazines into ball rooms; and you will see ifin a very few years they will have remaining eventhe means of defending themselves against the ir-ruptions of the sea.

When did England, in spite of its misfortunesand faults, exbibit a prodigious development? W asit under Cromwell or under Charles the second ? I

know that moral causes have much more powerthan economical calculations ; but I say that thesemoral causes do not so prodigiously augment allour resources, but because they direct all our ef-forts towards solid objects : Hence means are notwanting, either to the state or to individuals, forgreat objects, because they have not been employedin futilities.

W h y do the citizens of the United States ofNorth America double, every twenty-five years,their culture, their industry, their commerce, theirriches, and their population ? It is because there isscarcely an idler among them, and the rich go to

little superfluous expense. Their position, I agree,is very favourable. Laud is not wanting for theirdevelopment: it offers itself to their labours, andrecompences them. But if they laboured little,and expended much, this land would remain un-cultivated—they would grow poor, would languish;and would be very miserable, as the Spaniards

are, notwithstanding all their advantages. The irneighbours, the Canadians, do they make the sameprogress ? T hey are gentlemen, living nobly, anddoing nothing.



186

Fin al ly , let us take a last exam ple, much more

Itriking still. France, under its ancient govern-ment, was not certainly as miserable as the French

themselves have represented it to b e ; but it was

not flourishing. Its population* and its agricul-

ture were not retrograde, but they w ere stationary;

or if they made some small progress, it was less

than that of several neighbouring nations, and con.

sequently not proportioned to the progress of theknowledg e of the age. She wa s involved in debt

—had no credit—was always in want of funds for

her useful expenses—she felt herself incapable

of supporting the ordinary expenses of her govern-

ment, and still more of making any great efforts

without: In a word, notwithstanding the genius,

the number, and the activity of her inhabitants, therichness and extent of her so il, and the benefits of

a very long peace, little troubled, she with difficul-

ty maintained her rank among her rivals; and was

of but little consideration, and in nowise formida-

ble abroad.

H er revolution takes p lace : Sh e has suffered all

imaginable evils : She has been torn by atrocious

wars, civil and foreign : Several of her provinces

have been laid waste, and their cities reduced to

ashes : All have been pillaged by brigands, and by

the furnishers of the troops : H er exterior commerce

has been annihilated : Her fleets totally destroyed ;

• I desire it to be remembered , that I do not regard the augm en-tation of population as a goo d. It is but too often a mu ltiplication of

miserable bein gs. I should greatly prefe* the augmentation of well

bein g. I cit e here the increase of the number of men as a symptom

only, and not as a happiness. Th e abuse of com pete nce is a proof

of its existence.



187

though often renew ed : H e r colonies, belieyed so

necessary to her prosperity, have been prostrated;an d, w hat is w orse, she has lost all the men and

money lavished to subjugate them : Her specie has

been ne arly all e xp ort ed , as w ell by the effect of

emigration, as by that of pape r m on ey : Sh e has

supported fourteen armies in a time of famine;

an d, amidst all this , it is notorious that her popu -

lation and her agriculture have augmented conside-rab ly in a ve ry few ye ars ; and at the epoch of

the creation of the empire—without any improve«

ment in her situation as to the sea and foreign com-

merce, to which so great importance is commonly

attributed , withou t h avin g had a single instant of

peace for repose,— she supported enormous tax es,

made immense expenditures in public works,—she

effected all without a loan; and she had a colossal

pow er, which nothin g on the continent of K uro pe

could resist, and which would have subjugated the

universe, but for the British navy . W h a t then

took place in this country which could produce

such inconceivable effects! one circumstance chang-

ed has done the whole.

Under the ancient order of things, the greater

part of the useful labour of the inhabitants of

France was employed every year iu producing the

riches which formed the immense revenues of the

court, and of all the rich class of society; and these

revenues were almost entirely consumed in the ex-pend itures of lu x u ry ; that is to say, in pay ing an

enormous mass of population, whose whole labour

reproduced absolutely nothing but the enjoyments

of som e men . I n a mom ent almost the whole of



188

these revenues, have passed partly into the handsof the n ew governm ent, pa rtly into those of the

laborious class. T h e y fed also all those who de -

rive their subsistence from them ; but their labour

w as applied to useful or necessary th in g s; and it

has sufficed to defend the state from w itho ut, an d

to increase its productions within.*

Ought we to be surprised when we consider that

there was a time, of some length, during which, bythe effect even of commotion and of the ge ne ral

distress, there was scarcely in France a single idle

citizen, or one occupied in useless labo urs ? T h o se

who before made coaches, made carriages for can-

non ; those who made embroidery and laces, made

coarse woollens and l inens; those who ornamented

boudo irs, built pa rk s and cleared land . A nd eventhose who in peace rioted in all these inutilities,

were forced to gain a subsistence by the perform-

ance of services wh ich were w antin g. A man wh o

kep t forty useless dom estics left them to be hir ed

b y the industrious class, or by the state , and him-

self become a cle rk of an office. T h i s is the secret

of those prodigious resources always found by thebo dy of a nation in a crisis so gre at. I t then tu rns

to profit all the force w hich in o rd inary times it

suffered to be lost, w ithout be ing aw are of i t ; an d

we are frightened at seeing how great that is.

This is the substance of all that is true in col-

lege declamations on frugality, sobriety, abhorrence

of osten tation; and all those dem ocratical v irtues of

* The sole suppression of the feudal rights and tythes , partly tothe profit of cultivators, and partly of the state, enabled the onegreatly to increase their industry, and the pther to lay an enormousmass of new im posts; and these were but a small part of the reve-nues of the class of useless consumers.



189

poor and agricultural nations, which are so ridicu-

lously vaunted without either their cause or effectbein g und erstood. It is not because they are poor

and ignorant that these nations are strong; it is be-

cause nothing is lost of the little force they possess,

and that a man who has an hundred francs, and em-

ploys them well, has more means than he who has

a thou sand and loses them at play . Bu t let the

same be done by a rich and enlightened nation, andyou will see the same development of force which

you have seen in the French nation, which lias pro-

duced effects greatly superior to all that was ever

executed by the Roman republic: for it has over-

throw n much greater obstacles. L et G erman y, for

example, during some years only, leave entirely in

the hand s of the indu strious class the revenues wh ichserve for the pageantry of all its small courts, and

rich abbies, and you will see whether she will be a

stron g and formidable nation . On the contrary^

suppose they should entirely re-establish in Fr an ce

the ancient order of thin gs, that a great m ass of pro-

perty should return into the hands of idle men, that

the government should continue to enrich favourites

and make great expenditures in useless things, you

would again see there immediately, notwithstanding

its great increase of territory, languor in the midst

of resou rces, m isery in th e m idst of riche s, and weak-

ness in the midst of all the means of strength.

I t w ill be repeated that I attribu te solely to thedistribution of riches, and to the employment of the

labour they pay, the result of a multitude of moral

causes of the greatest en ergy. Once more, I do not

deny the existence of these ca u se s; I acknow ledge



190

it as ail others do ; but I do more, I exp lain their

effect. I agree that the enthusiasm of interior lib-

erty and exterior independence, and the indignation

against an unjust oppression, and a still more un-

jus t aggression, h ave alone been able to operate

these great revolutions in Fra nc e; but I maintain

that these have not furnished the passions with

such great means of success, (notwithstanding the

errors and honors to which their violence led) butbecause they produced a better employment of all

the national force. A ll the good of human society

is in the good application of labour; all the evil in

its lo s s ; wh ich, in other wo rds, means nothing but

that when men are occupied in providing for their

wants they are satisfied, and that when they lose

their time they suffer. One is ashamed to be obli-ged to prove so palpable a truth ; but we must re-

collect that the extent of its consequences are sur-

prising.

One might compose a whole book on luxury, and

it would be useful, for this subject has never been

w el l treated. It might be shown that luxury , that

is to say the taste for superfluous expense, i s to a cer-tain point the necessary effect of the natural disp osi-

tions of man to procure constantly new enjoyments,

when he has the means; and of the power of habit,

wh ich renders necessary to him the conveniences

he has enjoyed, even when it shall have become

burdensome to him to continue to procure them :

that consequently luxury is an inevitable result ofindustry, the progress of which it nevertheless ar-

rests ; and of riches, wh ich it tends to destro y; and

that for the same reason, also, w hen a nation is



191

fallen from its ancient grandeur, whether from the

slow effect of luxury or from any other cause, it sur-vives the prosperity which has given birth to it andrenders its return impossible, unless some violentshock, directed to this end, should produce a quickand complete regeneration. I t is the same with in-dividuals.

I t would be necessary to show, according to thesedata, that in the opposite situation, when a nationtakes for the first time its rank among civilised people,it is requisite, in order that the success of its effortsmay be complete, that the progress of its industryand knowledge should be much more rapid thanthat of its luxury. I t is, perhaps, principally to

this circumstance that we should attribute the greatadvances made by the Prussian monarchy under itssecond and third king, an example which ought toembarrass a little those who pretend that luxury isnecessary to the prosperity of monarchies.* I t isthis same circumstance which appears to me to en-sure the duration of the felicity of the United States ;

and it may be feared that the want of the completeenjoyment of this advantage, will render difficultand even imperfect the true prosperity and civiliza-tion of Russia.

It would be necessary to say which are the mostinjurious species of luxury . W e might considerunskilfulness in fabrication as a great luxury, for itcauses a great loss of time and of labour. I t wouldabove all be necessary to explain how the great for-

• IF luxury is necessary in a monarchal s tate , it is for the security

of the governm ent, but not for the prosperity of the country.



192

tunes are the principal and almost only source of

luxury, properly so called, for it could scarcely ex-ist if they were all mo derate. E v en idleness in

this case could scarcely have place . N o w th is is a

ki nd of lu x u ry ; since, if it is not a sterile em ploy-

m ent of labo ur, it is a suppression of it. * T h e

branches of ind ustry which rapidly produce imm ense

riches b ring then w ith them an inconvenience, w hich

strongly counter-balances their ad va nta ge s. I t is

not these we ought to wish to see first developed in

a rising nation. Of this kind is a very extensive

foreign commerce. A gricu lture, on the contra ry,

is greatly preferable; its products are slow and lim-

ited. In d us try , prop erly so called, (that of manu-

facture) is likew ise without dang er and very use-ful. It s profits ar e not exc es siv e; its success is

difficult to be attained and perpetuated; it requires

much knowledge, and many est imable quali t ies;

and its consequences are very favourable to the well

bein g of con sum ers. T h e good fabrication of objects

of first necessity is above all des irable. T h e ma-

nufactory of objects of luxury may also be of greatadvantage to a co un try ; but it is wh en their p ro-

duce is like the religion of the court of R om e—

which is said to be for th at court an article of ex -

portation, and not of con sum ption ; and there is

alw ays a fear of intoxicating ourselves with the

liquor we pre pa re for others. AH these observa-

• The only idle who ought to be seen without reprobation, arethose who devote themselves to study; and especially to the study ofman. And these are the only ones who are p ersecuted : there isreason for this. They shew how useless the others a re ; and theyare not the strongest.



193

lions, and many others, should be developed in the

book of w hich we are sp ea k in g; but they would

be superfluous here. T h e y enter in many respects

into the reflections I have made before (chapter x,)

on the manner in which riches are distributed in a

country, in proportion as they are accumulated.

Besides, my object is not to compose the history of

lu x u ry ; I on ly wish to show its effects on gen eral

consumption, and on circulation.

I shall content myself with adding that if luxury

is a great evil, in an economical point of view, it is

still a much greater in point of m or ali ty ; wh ich is

alw ays much the most impo rtant, wh en the que s-

tion is on the interests of men.

The taste for superfluous expenses, the principalsource of which is van ity, nourishes and exa spe-

rates it. I t rend ers the un ders tand ing frivolous,

an d injures its strength. I t produces irregu larity of

conduct, which engenders m any vices, disorders

and disturbances in families. I t lead s wom en rea -

dily to depravity— men to avidity— both to the loss

of delicacy and probity, and to the abandonment ofall generous and tender sentiments. I n a w ord, it

enervates the soul, by veakening the understand-

ing; and produces these sad effects not only on those

wh o enjoy it, but likew ise on all those wh o serve it,

or admire it— who imitate or envy it . T h is will al l

be more clearly seen when we speak of our moral

interests. I could not avoid indicating it he re. W e

must not confound things how ever intim ately con-

nected they may be.

F o r the same reason it will not be expected sure-

ly that I should now discuss the question, whe-



194

ther luxury being acknowledged hurtful, w e ought

to combat it by laws or by manners; nor that tshould examine by what mean we can favour pro-

duction, and give a useful direction to consumption.

This would be to encroach on the province of

legislation; with which I may perhaps occupy my-

self some day. But in all this part of my work, I

ought to limit myself to the establishm ent of facts.

I think I have so lidly established, that since

one can only expend what he has, production is

the only fund of consumption; and that conse-

quently consumption and circulation can never be

augmented but by an augmenting production; and

finally, that to destroy is not to produce ; and that

to expen d is not to enrich. T h is small number ofvery simple truths, will enable us to see very

clearly the effects of the revenues and expenses of

governments on the prosperity of nations.



CHAPTER XII.

Of the Revenues and Expenses of a Government,

and of its Debts.

T H I S subject is still very vast, although it is but

a part of that of which we have ju st treated. M an y

w riters would divide it into three book s, wh ich theysubdivide each into several chapters : bu t I prefer

not to separate these matters, that I may not cause

my readers to lose sight of their mutual depen-

dance ; and I feel the necessity for considering them

principally in mass, and under a general and com-

mon aspect. T h i s w ill not preven t me from enter-

ing also into d etails , and from distingu ishing the

particular cases which are really different, perhaps

even with more exactitude than has been hitherto

done.

In every society the governm ent is the greatest

of consu mers. F o r this reason alone it merits a

separate article in the history of consumption, with-

out wh ich it wo uld be incom plete. B ut for the same

reason , also, we can never perfectly comprehend

the economical effects of g overnm ent, and those of

its receipts and expen ditures , if w e have not pre*

viously formed a clear and exact idea of general

consumption, of its base, and of its progress.

The same errors which we have just combatedw ill re-appear he re. T ho se who think that agricul-

tural labours alone are productive, do not fail to say

that in the end all imposts fall qn the proprietors of

lands., that their revenue is the only taxa ble m atter,



196

that the territorial impost is the only just and useful

on.e, and that there ought to be no others ; and thosewho persuade themselves that consumptions can be

a cause of direct riches, maintain that the levies

made by government, on the fortunes of individ-

uals, powerfully stimulate industry; that its expen-

ses are very useful, by augmenting consum ption;

that they animate circu lation; and that all this is

very favourable to the public prosperity. T o see

clearly the vice of these sophisms, we must alw ays

follow the same track, and commence b y w ell es-

tablishing the facts.

In the first place, there is no doubt but that a

government of some sort must be very necessary

to every political so cie ty; for its members must bejudged, their affairs must be administered, they

must be protected, defended, guarantied from all

violence; it is only for this that they are united in

society. It is no more doubtful, but that this go-

vernment must have revenues since it has expenses

to incur. Bu t this is not the present question. T h e

question is , to know what effects these revenues,and these exp enses, produce on the public riches

and national prosperity.

To judge of them—since government is a great

consumer, and the greatest of all,— we must exa-

mine it in this quality, as w e have examined the other

consumers, that is to say we must see from whence

it receives the funds of which it disposes, and whatuse it makes of them.

A first thing very certain is , that government can-

not be ranked amongst the consumers of the indus-

trious class. T h e expenditure it makes does not



return into its ha nds with an increase of value . I l

does not sup po rt itself on the profits it m ak es . Iconclude, then, that its consumption is very real and

definitive; that nothing remains from the labour

which it pays; and that the riches which it employs,

and which w ere existing, are consumed and destroy-

ed w hen it ha s availed itself of them . I t rem ains

to be seen from whence it receives them.

Since the moral person, called government, doeg

not live on profits, it lives-on reve nues. I t de -

rives these revenues from two sources. I t possesses

estates in lan d, and it lay s imp osts. A s to its estates

in land, it is absolutely in the same situation as the

other capitalists whom we have called idle. I t

leases them and receives a rent; or if they are for-ests, it ann ually sells the timber cut. T h e care

taken of forests, and which principally consists in

preserving them, does not merit the name of indus-

trious labour. T h e real labour which gives them

a value is that which consists in felling them, in sel-

ling and transp orting them . If they belonged to

him who fells them, he would receive all the profit.T h e price a nn ua lly paid for the privilege of felling

them ought to be reg ard ed as a rent levied on the

indu str y of the person w ho fells tliem : a ren t ab -

solutely similar to that derived from a fishery, year-

ly rented to him who has the industry to take the

fish. T h u s the reven ues, derived from the estates

belong ing to governm ent, are , like those of all otherrura l prop erty, created by the industrious men w ho

work them, and levied on their profits.

Many politicians do not approve of government

having landed estates : it is very true, that as it is



198

by no means a careful proprietor its managers must

necessarily be very expensive and little faithful.T h u s it does, with much unskilfuluess, wh at another

proprietor would do better. B ut it must be rem ark-

ed, that this unskilfulness does not diminish, or

dim inishes very little , the total mass of the p rod uc-

tion of these estates : for the quantity of the produc-

tion of the lands depends little on those who manage

them , but almost entirely on those who work them .N o w nothing prevents these land s being as w ell

cultivated, and their timber cut down and sold, with

as much intelligence as those of an indiv idual. T h e

defect in their management consists in employing a

few more men than is necessa ry, and in pay ing them

a little too de ar. N o w this is no very great inconve-

nience.

I , on the con trary, see many advan tages in the

governm ents having possessions of this kin d. F irs t,

the re are some kind s of productions which it alone

can preserve in great quantity : such are forests of

larg e timber, the produ ctions of which must be so

long wa ited for, that for the most part indiv idu alsprefer the same, or even a smaller quantity of more

frequent retu rns . Se co nd ly, it m ay be good that the

government should possess cultivated lan ds . I t

will be better able to know more perfectly the

resources an d the interes ts of different localities ;

and, if it is wise and benevolent, it may even profit

by this to diffuse a useful kno w ledg e. T h ir d ly ,wh en a great mass of land ed property is in the ha nd

of government, less remains at m ark et. N o w as this

kin d of possession is alw ays greatly des ired, all

things otherwise equal, the less there is to be sold



199

the dearer it w ill se ll, that is to say that for a sum of

one hundred thousand francs the buyer w ill be con-tented to receive four or even three thousand francs

of revenue instead of five ; and this will reduce the

rate of interest of money in its various em ploym ents,

which is a great advantage. Fou rthly, and this

consideration is the most important of all,— all that

the government annually draws from these estates

is a revenue, "which it levies on no one. It comesto it from its own property, as to all other proprietors;

and it is so much in diminution of what it is obliged

to procure by im posts. In fine, in a case of necess ity

it may, as an individual, find a resource in the sale

of its estates without having recourse to loans , which

are always a great evil, as we shall soon see.

For all these- reasons I think it very happy for

government to be a great proprietor, esp ecially of

forests- and large farms. One circumstance on ly

would be to be regretted, that this would prevent

these estates from fa lling into the hand of the indus-

trious cla ss. But we have seen on the subject of

agricultural industry, that from the nature of things

property of this kind can seldom be in the posses-

sion of those who work them, because this would

take from them too great a portion of their funds.

N o w I had rather they should belong to government,

than to any other capitalist living on revenue.

On the whole, our modern governments in gene-

ral possess but little landed property. It is not thatthey have not almost all declared their domain*

inalienable, but they have also almost all sold or

given a very great part of them. T h e true revenue

on w hich they calculate is that of imposts; it is then

this which we should take into consideration.



200

By means of imposts, the government takes

from individuals the wealth which was at their dis-position, in ord er to expend it itself; these then are

always sacrifices imposed on them.

If this sacrifice bears on the men who live on their

reven ues, and w ho employ the wh ole of them on

their personal enjoyments, it would make no change

in the total mass of prod uction, consum ption a n d

gene ral circulation. A ll the difference would be ,tha t a part of the w ages which these men pa id ,

would be paid by government with the money taken

from them : this is the most favourable case.

When the impost falls on industrious men, who

live on profits, it may only diminish their profits.

Then it is that part of these profits which these men

employ in their personal enjoyments which is attack-

ed. It is these enjoyments which are di m in ish ed ;

«nd the impost has the same effects as in the

preced ing case . B ut if it goes so far as to annih ilate

the profits of the indu strious men, or even to touch

on the funds of their in du str y, then it is this in-

du stry itself wh ich is derange d or destroyed ; and

consequ ently production, and in the end the ge nera l

consumption are dim inished by it. Suffering pre -

vails every where.

Finally, where the impost falls on the hirelings,

it is evident they beg in to suffer. If the loss res ts

entirely on them, it is a part of their consumption

which is suppressed ; and which is replaced by thatof those whom the government pa ys w ith the money

taken from them. If they are able to throw it on

those who employ them by raising the price of their

Wflgea, it is then necessa ry to know by whom th ey



201

are employed ; and, accordingly as they are in the

employ of idle or industrious capitalists, this losswill have one of the two effects which we have just

described in speaking of these capitalists.

I think this preliminary explanation m ust appear

incontestable, after the elucidations we have given

in speak ing of consumption. At present the great

difficulty is to find on whom the loss occasioned by

the impost rea lly falls : for all imposts do not pro-duce the same effects, and thus are so multiplied that

it is impossible to exam ine every one separately. I

think it best to arrange under the same denomination

all those which are essentia lly of the same nature.

A ll imaginable im posts, and I suppose they have

all been imagined, may be divided into six principal

kind s, * viz . Fir st, T h e impost on the revenues

of lands, such as the real tax, the twentieth the

manorial contribution in France, and the land tax in

En glan d. Secon d, Th at on the rent of houses.

T hir d, T ha t on the annuities due from the state.

Fo urth , T ha t on persons, as the capitation and po ll

tax, sumptuary and furniture contributions, on patentrigh ts, on charters and freedom of corporations,

&c. &c. F ifth , T hat on civil acts and certain social

transactions, as on stamps, and registers, onv endu es,

the hundredth penny, amortisement, and others; to

which we must add the annual impost on annuities

charged on one individual by another, for there are

no means of knowing of these investments, donations,or transmissions, but by the depositories wh ich

preserve the acts establishing them. S ix th , T ha t on

* Thi* is in my opinion the best method of clan ing them, to fir e * clefur

account of their effects.



202

merchandise, whether by monopoly or sale, exclu-

sive, or even forced, as formerly of salt and tobaccoin France ; or at the m oment <>f their first produc-

tion, as the taxes on salt ponds and m ines, and

part of those on wines in France and on breweries

in England $ or at the moment of consumption, or

on their passage from the first producer to the

ultimate consum er, as the customs interior and

exterior : the tolls on roads, cana ls, postage, andat the entrance of cities, & c & c *

* A note comm unicated to the Editor. Our author's classification of

taxes being taken from those practised in France, will scarcely be intelli-

gible to an American reader to whom the nature as well as names of some

of them mast be unknown. The tax es witb which we are familiar class

themselves readily according to the basis on which they rest. 1. Capital.

2. Income. 3 . Consumption. These may be considered as comm ensurate;

consumption being generally equal to income ; and income the annual

profit of capital, a government may select either of these basis for the

establishment of its system o/ taxation , and so frame it as to reach the

faculties of every member of the socie ty, and to draw from him his equal

proportion of the public contributions. And if this be correctly obtained,

it ii the perfection of the function of taxa tion. But when once a govern-

ment has assumed its basis, to select and tax special articles from either of

the other classes is double taxation. For exam ple, if the system be es ta-

blished on the basis of income, and his just proportion on that scale has

been already drawn from every cue, to step into the field of consumption,and tax special articles in that, as broadcloth or homespun, wine or whiskey,

a coach or a waggon, is doubly taxing the same article. For that portion

of income, with which these articles are purchased, having already paid

its tax as income, to pay another tax on the thing it purchased, is paying

twic e for the same thing. It is an nggiicvance on the citizens who use

tbese articles in exoneration of those who do not, contrary to the most

racreri of the duties of a government, to do equal and impartial justice to

all its citizens.

How fcr it may be the interest and the duty of all to submit to thissacrifice on other grounds, for instance, to pay for a time an impost on

the importation of certain articles, in order to encourage their manufacture

at hom e, or an excise on others injurious to the morals or health of th e

citiz ens, will depend on a series of considerations, of another order, and

beyond toe proper limits of this note. The reader, in deciding which basis

of taxation is most eligible for the local circumstances of his country, will

of course trai l himself of the weighty observations of our author.



803

E ac h of these imposts has one or several man-

ners, peculiar to itself, of being burdensome.At the first glance, we may see that the fax on

revenues from land has the inconvenience of being

difficult to assess with justice, and of annihilating

the value of all those land s wh ose rent does not

exceed the tax or exceeds it by too little, to deter-

mine any one to incur the inevitable risques, and

the expenditures requisite for putting the se lands

into a state for cultivation.

T h e tax on house rent, has the defect of lessenin g

the profit of speculations in build in g; and so of

deterring from building houses to rent, so that

every citizen is obliged to content himself w ith

habitations le ss healthy, and les s convenient, than

those he might have had at the same ren t,*

A tax on annuities due from the state is a real

bankruptcy, if established on annuities already

created, since it is a diminution of the interest

prom ised for a capital rec eived; and it is illusory if

* I do not avail myself against this impost of the pretentions of tome

economists, that the rent of house* ought not to be taxed , or at least but in

proportion to the nett revenue which would be yielded by the cultivation of

the land occupied by these bouses, all the rest being on ly the interest of

the capital employed in building, which according te them is not taxab le.

This opinion is a consequence of that which considers agricultural

labour as alone productive, and that the revenue of land is the only thing

taxable, because there is in the produce of land a part purely gratuitous and

entirely due to nature; which portion, according to these authors, U the only

legitimate and reasonable subject of taxation.

I have shown that all this is false, therefore I cannot avail myself of iteither against this or any of the following im pos ts; which are all not on ly

repiobated in thij system, but are declared illusory, as never being nor

possible to be, any thing but an im post on the revenue of lands, disguised

and additionally charged with uteles expenses and lone*. Such a theory

5s untenable when we know what is production.



s o *

established oa them at the moment of their crea-

tion, for it wou ld have been more simple to haveoffered in the first instant an interest lessened

by the amount of the tax, which would have come

to the same thing.

A tax on persons giv es occasion to disagreeable

scrutinies to assess it justly, according to the for-

tune of every one; and can never rest but on

arbitrary bases and very uncertain knowledge,as w ell when attempted to be assessed on riches

already acquired as when intended to bear on the

means of acquiring them. In the latter case,

that is to say, when it is predicated on the supposi-

tion of any kind of industry whatever, it discourages

that industry , and obliges it to rise in price or to be

abandoned.

T h e tax on civil acts, and in general on so cia l

transactions, cramps the circulation of real property,

and diminishes their market value, by rendering

their transfer very ex pe nsiv e; augments so much

the expenses of justice that the poor dare no longer

defend their rights ; renders all business perplex-ing and difficult; occasions inquisitorial researches,

and vexations by the agents of the revenue; gives

rise in these acts to concealments, and even to the

insertion of deceptious clauses and valuations,

w hich open the door to much iniquity and give

rise to a multitude of contentions and misfortunes.

A s to tax es on merchandise, their inconvenien-ces are still more numerous and complicated; but

are not le ss disagreeable nor less certain.

M ono poly, or a sale exc lusively by the state,

is odious, tyrannical, contrary to the natural right



205

which every one has of buy ing and selling as he

ple ase s, and it necessitates a mu ltitude of violentm easure s. I t is still wo rse when this sale is

forced, that is to say when government obliges

ind ivid ua ls, as has sometimes been don e, to bu y

things they do not w ant, under pretext that they

cannot do without them , and tha t if they do not

bu y them it is because they have prov ided them-

selves by contraband.

A ta x , levied at the mom ent of produ ction,

eviden tly requires on the par t of th e producer an

advan ce of fund, wh ich being long without return-

ing to him greatly diminishes his means of produc-

ing.

It is not less clear that all imposts levied eitherat the moment of consumption or during the trans-

portation from the prod uce r to the consumer, cram p

or destroy some branch of industry or of commerce;

ren de r scarce, or costly, necessary or useful article s;

disturb all enjoyments, deran ge the natu ral course

of th in g s ; an d establish, between the different

w ants and the mean s of satisfying them , propor-tions and relations wh ich wo uld not exist but for

these perturbations, which are necessarily variable,

and which rend er the speculations and resources

of the citizens inevitably preca rious.

Finally, all these taxes whatsoever on merchan-

dise occasion an infinity of precautions an d em barr as-

sing formalities. T h e y give place to a m ultitudeof ruinous difficulties, and are necessarily liable to

be ar b itr ar y ; the y oblige actions indifferent in

"themselves to be constituted crimes, and inflict pun-

ishments often the most crue l. T h e i r collection is



206

very exp ensive , and calls into existence an arm y

of officers, and an army of defrauders, men all lostto society, and w ho con tinually w age a real civil

w ar, with all the greivous economical and m oral

consequences which it brings on.

When we attentively examine each of these cri-

ticisms on the different ta xes , we see tha t the y ar e

w ell founded. T h u s , after hav ing shown that

ev tr y impost is a sacrifice, w e find th at we ha vealso shown that every impost has , besides , a man-

ne r pe cu liar to itself of bein g hurtful to the con-

tributors. T h is is alre ad y a great dea l, but it does

not yet teach us on whom precisely falls the loss

resulting from the impost, nor who it is that really

an d definitively sup ports it. Y et this latte r ques-

tion is the most important, and absolutely necessary

to be resolved in orde r to ju d g e of the effects of

taxe s on the national p rosperity. L et us examine

it then with attention, without adopting any system,

and adh ering scrupulously to an observation of

facts, as we have done hitherto.

As to the tax on the revenues of land, it is evi-dent tha t it is he w ho possesses the lan d, at th e

moment in which the tax is e stablish ed, wh o pay s it

rea lly w ithout being able to throw it on any one .

For it does not give him any means of augmenting

liis productions, since it adds nothing either to the

dem and for article s, or to the fertility of the so il ;

and does not in any degree diminish the ex pen seof cultivation. A ll assent to this truth . B ut wh at

has not been sufficiently remarked, is, that this pro-

prietor ought to be considered less as having been

deprived of a portion of his yearly income, than as



207

having toit that part of h is capital, w hich would

produce this portion of income at the current rateof interest. T h e proof i s , that if a farm, yie ldin g

annually five thousand francs nett rent, is worth

an hundred thousand francs—the day after it shall

have been charged with a perpetual tax of a fifth,

al l other things equal, it w ill not command more

than eighty thousand if offered for sale; and it will

be stated but at eighty thousand francs, in the in-

ventory of an inheritance which contains other ar-

ticles wh ose value have not been ch anged. I n

effect, when the state ha s declared that it takes in

perpetuity the fifth of the income of lands, it is as

if it had declared itself proprietor o f the fifth of

the capital, for no property is worth but the utilitywhich may be derived from it. T h is is so true,

that when, in consequence of a new impost, the

state opens a loan, for the interest of which it

pledges the revenue it has seized, the operation is

consum mated; it has really received the capital,

it had appropriated, and has made away with the

whole at once, instead of annually expending its in-come. It is as wh en M r. P itt took at once from

the proprietors the capital of the land tax with

which they were charged : they were liberated and

he swallowed his capital.

From hence it follows, that when once all the

land has changed owners since the establishment

of the tax, it is no longer really paid by any one.The purchasers having bought only what was left,

have lost nothing; the heirs having succeeded but

to what they found, the surplus is to them as if

their predecessors had expended or lost it, as in



effect they have lost it. And , in case of inheritances

abandoned as of no value, it is the creditors whohave lost the capital taken by the state from the

property which was security for their debt. «

It follows likewise from this, that when the

«tate renounces the who le or part of a territorial

tax, anciently established as a perpetuity, it purely

an d simp ly makes a present to the actual propri-

etors of the lands of the capital of the revenue

which it ceases to demand. It is as to them a gift

absolutely gratuitous, to which they have no more

right than any other citizens. F or none of them

calculated on this capital, in the transactions by

which they became proprietors.

It would not be absolutely the sam e, if the im-post had been originally established only for a de-

terminate number of years . T hen there would

really have been taken from the proprietor but a

part of the capital corresponding to this number of

years. The state, likewise, would have borrowed

bat this value from the lenders, to whom it might

have pledged this impost for the payment of theirprincipal and interest; and the lands would have

been considered in the transaction but as deteriorated

to this amount. In this case when the tax cease s, as

when the corresponding dividen ds of the loan are

exhausted, it is on both sides a debt extinguished,

because it is paid. On the wh ole the principle i s

the sam e, as in the case of a tax and of a perpetualrent.

It is then alw ays true, that when a tax is k i d OH

land, a value equal to the capital of this tax is tak-

en at once from the actual proprietors, and that



209

when all have changed owners, since the establish-

ment of the tax, it is really no longer paid by anyone. T h is observation is singular and im portant.

It is absolutely the same with the tax establish-

ed on the rent of houses. T ho se w ho possess

them at the moment it is established sup port the

entire los s, for they hav e no m eans of indem nifying

themselves. Bu t those who buy them afterwards

pay for them but in proportion to the charges with

which they are iucumbered. T ho se who inherit

them, reckon them, in like manner, but at the value

which re m ain s; and as to those wh o build sub-

sequ ently, they mak e their calculations according to

the state of things as they are estab lished . If no

room is left for useful speculation they defer build-ing un til the effect of scarcity raise s rent s. A s, on

the con trary, if i t was extremely advantageo us

there would soon'be funds enough employed there-

in to make it no longer preferable to any other em-

ploym ent of them. W e conclude again that the

proprietors on whom the impost falls, lose the en-

tire cap ital, and that wh en all are either dea d orexpropriated, this impost is paid but by those who

have no right to complain of k .

W e may say the sam e of the ta xe s which govern-

men ts sometimes permit them selves to impose on

ann uities wh ich they ow e for cap itals formerly fur-

nish ed. Ce rtainly the unfortunate creditor from

whom this deduction is made suffers the entireloss , not being able to throw it on any one; but he

moreover lo ses th e cap ital of the sum retai ne d.

T h e proof is tha t if he sells his an nuity he gets

so much the less, as it is more encumbered if other-



210

wise the general rate of interest on money has not

varied. W he nc e it follows that subsequent posses-sors of this annu ity no longer pay any th in g : for

they received it in this condition and for its remain-

ing value in virtue of a purchase freely made or of

successions voluntarily accepted.

The effect of a tax on persons is not at all the

same. W e must distinguish between that which

is sup posed to bear on acquired rich es, and thatwhich is meant for the means of acquiring the m ,

that is to say on ind us try of some sort. In the

first case it is certainly alw ay s the person taxe d

who supports the loss resulting from it, for he can-

not throw it on any other. B u t as the tax on every

one ceases w ith his life, and every one is succes-

sively subject to it, in prop ortion to his presum ed

fortune, the first person taxed loses only the dues

which he p ay s, and not the cap ital, and does not

liberate those who come after h im ; thus at w hat-

ever epoch the tax ceases, it is not a pure gain to

those who are subject to it, it is a burthen weighing

really on them and which ceases to be continued.A s to a tax on pers on s, w hic h ha s for its object

ind us try of some soft, it is equ ally true that he

who first pays it does not lose the capital nor liber-

ate those w ho are subjected to it after hi m ; bu t it

gives room for considerations of anothe r ki nd . T h e

man who exercises a branch of industry at the mo-

m ent in w hich it becomes burthen ed with a newperson al tax , such as the establishm ent or increase

of p atent rig hts , the freedom of corpo rations, mas-

terships, or other things of the same kind, this man

J say has but two courses to pu rsu e, either to re-



211

liounce his occupation, or to pay the tax and sup-

po rt the loss resu lting from it, if no twithstand ingthis it still holds out a prospect of sufficient profits.

I n the first case he certa inly suffers, but he does

not pay the tax; therefore 1 shall not now occupy

myself with it. I n the secoud case, it is he as -

suredly who pays the imposition, since neither

augm enting the d em and, nor dim inishing the ex -

pen se, it does not give him any immediate mean ofincreasing his receipts or lessening his expendi-

tures. But taxes are never all at once laid so

heavy as to oblige inevitab ly all of the same occu-

pation to quit it: for all industrious professions

being necessary to society, the total extinction of

any one would produce general disorder. T h u s

after the establishm ent of a ta x of the kind w espeak of, none but those who are already rich

enough to consider a diminished profit as no object,

or those w ho exe rcised th eir profession w ith so

little success, that no profits would remain to them

after paying the tax, would renounce their occupa-

tion. T h e o thers continue i t ; and these, as w e

have said , really pay the ta x at least un til rid ofthe competion of many of their brethren, they could

avail themselves of this circumstance to levy it on

the consumers by ma king them pa y more for the

articles than before.

It is thus with those who exercised the profes-

sion at the moment of the establishment of the tax.

T h e case is different with those wh o emb race it

after the tux has been once established . T h e y

find the law made ; we may say that they engag e

themselves on this condition. T h e tax is for them



212

AJfiong the exp enses required b y the profession,

As the necessity of renting a particular situation,or of buying a particular utensil. T h ey only enter

on this prolession because they calculate that, not*

Withstanding these changes, it is still the best em-

ployment they can make of the portion of capital

and industry they p ossess. T hu s they certainly ad-

vance the tax, but it does not really take any thing

from them. T hose to whom it is a real loss arethe consum ers, w ho without this change could at

less expense have made up the income with which

they are contented, and which was the best in their

power to procure in the present state of society.

From hence it follows, that, if the. tax be removed

these men really make a profit on which they did not

Calculate, at least until this advantage produces newcompetitors. T h ey find them selves gratuitously,

and fortuitously, transported into a class of society

more favoured by fortune than that in which they

were placed ; while to those who exercised it pre-

vio us ly to the ta x, it is but a return to their first

itate . W e see that a tax on persons, founded on

industry, produces very different effects; but its

general effect is to diminish the enjoyments of con-

iumers, since their furnishers do not give them

merchandise for that part of their money which

go es into the public treasury. 1 cannot enter into

more d et a ils ; but we cannot too much accustom

ourselves to ju dge of the different reverberations ofa tax , and to follow them in thought, in all their

modifications. L et us pass to the imposts en pa-

pers, deed s, records, and other m onuments of social

transactions.



213

T h is requires also a distinction. T h e portion

of this impost, which goes to augment the expensesof jus tice , and which m akes a par t of it, is cer-

tainly paid by the parties on whom the jud gm en t

throws the expense; and it is difficult to say to

w ha t class of society it is most hu rtfu l; however,

it is easy to see that it burd ens partic ularly the

kin d of property most liable to contention. N o w ,

as this is landed property, the establishment ofsuch an impost certainly diminishes its m arke t

yalue. W he nc e it follows that those wh o h a te

purchased lands, since the existence of ".he tax, are

a little com pensa ted, in adv anc e, b y the smaller

price of their p ur ch as e; and that those who pos-

sessed them before bea r the entire loss if they have

any law-suit, and even sustain a loss without any

law contest, and without pa ying the ta x , since, th e

value of their prop erty is dim inished. Co nsequ ent-

ly if the tax ceases, it is but a restitution for the

la tt er ; and there is a po rtion of gratuitous gain

for the oth ers , for they finfl themselves in a better

situation than that on which they had calculated ,and according to which they had made their specu-

lat ion.

A ll this is yet more tru e, and is true w ithout

restriction, of that portion of the tax on transac-

tions which rega rds purchases and sale s, such as

fines on alienation, the hu nd red th pen ny , am ortise-

m ent, and others. T h i s portion of the tax is e ntirelypaid by him w ho possesses the property at th e mo-

men t it is thus encumbered : for he w ho buys it

subsequently pays him but accordingly, and con-

w qu ently pay s really nothing. A ll tha t can be



la id , is tha i if this tax on de eds of Kale of certain

possessions is accompanied by other taxes on othertransactions which affect other kiu ds of pro pe rty ,

other employments of capitals, it will happen

that these possessions are not the only ones lessened

in v al u e ; and consequently that proportion is pre-

served, at least in part, and that thus a part of their

loss is prevented by that of others, for the market

price of every kin d of reven ue is relative to tha t ofall th e othe rs. T h u s , if all these losses could be

exactly balanced, the total loss resulting from the

impost wfllJild be exa ctly and very propo rtionab ly

distribu ted. T h is is all that can be aske d : for it

must nec essarily exist, since impost is alw ays a

sum of me ans tak en from the govern ed, to be

placed at the disposition of those who govern.

Im po sts on m erc hand ise have effects still more

complicated and various. T o unravel them w ell,

let us recollect that all merchandise, at the moment

it is delivered to the consumer, has a natu ral an d

necessary price. T h i s price is composed of the

valu e of w ha t has been necessa ry for the subsis-tence of those who have fabricated and transported

this m erchand ise, during the time which they

w ere em ployed abou t it. I say that this price is

na tu ra l becau se it is founded on the natu re of things

independently of all convention; and that it is

nec essary , because if the men wh o execute a labour

whatsoever do not obtain subsistence they perish,or ap ply themselves to other occu pations, and this

labou r is no longer executed. B ut this natural

and necessary price has scarcely any thing in com-

mon with the market or conventional price of the



215

m ercha ndise, that is to say with the price at which

it is fixed by the effect of a free sa le . F o r a thin gmay have cost very little trouble, or if it has requir-

ed much labour and care it may hav e been found

or stolen by him w ho offers it for s a l e ; in the se two

cases he may sell it very low, without losing; but

it may at the same time be so useful to him, that he

will not part with it but for a very great price; and,

if many people want it, he w ill obtain this price,and make an enormous ga in. On the con trary it is

possible that a thing m ay have cost th e vend or

infinite trouble, that not only it may not be necessary

to him, but that he may have a pressing call to dis-

pose of it, and that yet no body is desirous of buying

it. Tn this case he will be. obliged to pa rt w ith it

for almost no thing, and will sustain a very great

loss. T h e natura l price is then composed of anterior

sacrifices made by the vendor, and the conventional

price is fixed by the offers of bu ye rs. T h e s e are

two thin gs, in them selves foreign to one anoth er.

Only when the conventional price of any labour is

constantly below its natu ral and necessary price,it ceases to be performed . T h e n the produce of

this labour becoming scarce, more sacrifices are

made to procure it, if it is still desire d, and thu s

how ever little it is rea lly useful the conventional

or m ark et price re-a sce nd s to the level of the price

which nature has attached to that labo ur, and w hich

is necessary to a continuance of its execution. I tis thus all prices are formed in a state of society.

It follows hence that those who exercise a labour,

the conventiona l price of which is inferior to its

natural value, ruin themselves or disperse, that



those w ho execu te a labour, or in other words exer-

cise an industry whatsoever, the conventional priceof which is strictly equal to the natural price, that

is to say, those whose profits balance nearly their

urgent wants, vegetate and subsist miserably and

that those who possess talents the conventional

price of which , is superior to absolute necessaries,

enjoy , prosper, and in course multiply. F or the

fecundity of all liv ing, even among 'vegetables issuch, that noLhing but a want of nourishment for

the germs disclosed arrests the increase of numbers

of the individuals. T h is is the cause of the retro-

grade, stationary or progressive state of population,

in the human kind. M omentary calamities, such

as famine and pestilence have little effect. Unpro-

ductive labour, or productive in an insufficient

degree, is the poison which deeply infects the

sources of life. W e have already made nearly

all these observations, either in the fourth paragraph

of our introduction, in speaking of the nature of our

riches, or in the chapters in which we have spoken

of values and population. B ut it was w ell to bringthem again into view in this place.

N o w it is easy to perceive that imposts on mer-

chandise , affect prices, in different w ays, and in

different limits, according to the manner in which

they are levied, and according to the nature of the

articles on which they bear. For exam ple in the

case of monoply or exclusive sa le, by the state, itis clear that the impost is paid directly immediately

and without resource by the consumer, and that it

has the greatest extension of which it is susceptible.

But this sa le , if forced cannot how ever, either in



2(7

price or quantity exceed a certain term , which is

tha t of the possibility of pay ing it. I t stop9whenever it would be useless to exact it, or when

it would co9t more than it would bring in. T h i s

is the point at which the tax on salt was in F ra n ce

and it is the maximum of poss ible exac tion.

If the exclusive sale, be not forced it varies

acco rding to the. nature of the m erch and ise, if it

be on articles not nece ssary in proportion as the

price raises the consumption dim inis he s; for there

is but a certain.sum of means iu the whole society,

w hic h is destined to procure a certain k ind of enjoy-

m en t: it may even hap pen , that a sm all increase

of price may greatly dim inish the profit because

many renounce entirely this kind of consum ption,or are even able to replace it by ano ther. B ut the

impost is always effectively paid by those who

persevere in consuming.

If on the contrary the exclusive sale m ade by

the state, but by m utual agreem ent be ars on an

artic le of the first necessity, it is equ ivalen t to a

forced sa le, for the consu mption, dim inishes tru lyIB proportion as the price rises, that is to say, people

suffer and die, but as in fine it is necessary, it

alw ays rises with the means of pa ying , an d it is

paid by those who consume.

After these violent means, if we examine others,

more mild, we sha ll fiud their effects an ala go us ,

w ith a less deg ree of en erg y. T h e most efficaciousof these is a tax imposed on mercha ndise at the

moment of production, for no.part escapes, not even

that consumed by the produc er himself, nor even

that which may be damaged or lost in w areh ouse s,



218

previously to being emp loyed. Such is the tax on

salt levied on the salt p o n d s ; tha t on win e at theinstant of the vintage, or before the first sale, and

tha t on beer at the breweries. W e may also rang e in

th e same class the imp ost on sug ar, coffee, and

othe r such articles levied at the mom ent of the ir

arrival from the country which produces them:

foi» it is not till th is moment th ey ex ist, for the

country which cannot produce them and whichis to consume them.

T h is tax levied at the mom ent of pro duction,

if estab lished on an article li ttle necessary is as«

limited as the taste we ha ve for it. T h u s , wh en

it was wished to derive a great revenue from

tobacco, pains w ere taken to rend er it a necessaryto the peop le. F o r if society is instituted for th e

more easy satisfaction of the w an ts given us by

natu re, and from w hich we cannot withd raw

ourselves, it seem s tha t fiscality is des tined to

create in us artificial w an ts, in ord er to refuse us

one part, and make us pay for the other.

W he n-th is same impost, at the moment of pro-duction, is established on an article more neces-

sar y, it is susceptible of a greater ex ten sio n; how -

ever, if this article costs much labour aud expense

in its production the exten t of the im post is lik e-

wise soon stopt, no longer thro ugh w an t of a desire

to p rocu re th e article, b ut by the impo ssibility of

pa yin g for i t : for there must alw ays reach th epro du cers a sufficient po rtion of the pr ice for thei r

subsistence; thus there is less remaining for the

state.



£19

. B ut an impost disp lays all its force w hen the

artic le is very necessary an d costs very littl e,as salt for ex am p le : there all is profit for th e

treasu ry ; according ly its agents have a lw ay s

paid a particular attention to sa lt. V er y rich

mines produce also the same effect to a certain

point, but in general governments have taken

the property to themselves, which saves the trouble

of tax ing , and is equiv alent to the process ofexclusive sa le. A ir and w ater, if the y could

hav e app rop riated them wou ld have been objects

of taxa tion very heavy and very fruitful for the

treasury ; but nature has diffused them too widely.

I do not doub t bu t, in A rab ia, revenue farmers

would draw great profit from a tax on water, and

so th at no one should drink without th eir perm is-sion. A s to air the window ta x accomplishes as

much on that as is possible.

W in e is not a gratuitous present from natu re.

It costs much trouble, care and expense; and,

notwithstanding the necessity and the strong desire

w e have to procu re it, w e should w ith difficulty,

believe it could support the enormous charges with

which it is burthened at present in France, at the

moment of its production. If we we re not ap pri sed

that a pa rt of this bu rden falls directly on the land

planted iu vines, and operates only as a great

reduction of the ren ts paid . In that w ay it has

the effect of a lan d ta x , w hich is , as we ha veseen to tak e from the proprietor of the soil a por-

tion of his capital, without influencing the price

of the products or encroaching on the profits of the

producer. T h u s the capitalist is impo verished,



220

but nothing is deranged in the economy of society,

and this capitalist is obliged to sustain this loss,when ever the land would yield him still less by a

chauge of culture.

Corn like wine, might be the object of a very

heavy tax, levied at the moment of production,

independently even of the tenth, with which both

are burthened almost every where. A part of this

impost would operate in like manner in diminu-tiou of the rent of the land, without touching the

w ag es of the production, aud consequently with-

out increasing the price of the article. If in gene-

ral they have abstained from this tax, I am per-

suaded it is not from a superstitious respect, for

the principal nourishment of the poor, which has

otherwise been charged in many ways which en-hance the price, but because they have been pre-

vented by the difficulty of supei-iiitendiug the entry

into every barn, a difficulty which in effect is stil l

greater than that of entering every cellar. In

other respects the similitude is complete.

Let us observe, in finishing this article, that

an impost thus levied, at the moment of produc-tion, on an article of indispensable use all over the

world, is equivalent to a real capitation; but of

all capitations it is the most cruel, for the poor.

For it is the poor who consume the greatest quanti-

ty of-articles of the first necessity, there being for

them no other subs titu te; and they constitute al-

most the whole of their expenses, because they canonly provide for their most pressing wants. T hus

such a capitation is distributed, in proportion to

misery and not to riches in the direct ratio of wan ts



221

and the inverse of means. In this way we m ay

appreciate imposts of this kin d. But they are veryprodu ctive: for it is alw ays the poor who consti-

tute the great number, and by this great number

great sum s. T h ey little affect those who could

make their complaints be hea rd ; and this deter-

mines in their favour. It cannot be dissem bled,

that these are the two only causes of the preference

given to them.A s to imposts levied on different merchandises,

either at the moment of consumption or at their

different stations, as on the public road?, in the

markets, in ports at the gates of citie s, in shops*,

&c. &c. their effects have been already indicated

by those we have just seen resulting from exclusive

sa le, or from a tax at the moment of production.

T h es e are of the same kind , only they are com-

monly less general and less absolute ; because

they are more various, and seldom embrace so

great an extent of country. In fact the greatest

part of these imposts are local measures. A toll

affects only the goods which pass along the roador canal on which it is established . A t the en-

trance of towns it affects directly only the consump-

tion made within their interior. ( I suppose its

transit exem pt from duty.) A tax levied in a

market or shop do°s not affect what is sold in the

county, or at extraordinary fairs. T h u s it deranges

prices and industry more irregularly, but alw aysderanges them in the points on wh ich they bear.

For so soon as an article is charged the condition

either of the producer or the consumer is deteriorated.

It is here that we meet again relatively to products



and the effects of taxation, the consequences of

two important conditions proper to all merchandise,the one being of the first necessity, or only agreeable

or of luxury, the othep that their conventional or

market price be greater than their natural or neces-

sary one, or merely equal to it, as to being low er,

w e already know that impossible in the long run.

I f the article taxed be of the first necessity it

cannot be dispensed with, it will alw ays be boughtwhile there are means; and, if its conventional

price be only equal to the natural one, the producer

can make no abatement;— thus all the loss w ill

fall on the consumer. W hen ce w e are to con-

d u d e, that if the sale and the product of the tax

dim inishes, it is the consumer who suffers and

perishes.W e must remark that in our old societies occupy-

ing a territory circumscribed long ago, and able to

acquire only land s already appropriated, this is

the case with all merchandises of the first nec es sit y;

for, by the effect of the lon g contention betw een

the contrary interests of the producer and consum-

er, every one is posted in the social order accord-ing to his degree of capacity. T h os e who possess

gome talent, in sufficient demand to enable them to

exact payment beyond their absolute necessities,

w ill devote them selves to the em ployment so pre-

ferred. N on e but those who cannot succeed in

them devote themselves to the indispensable pro-

ductions ; because these are alw ays in demand.

But they are not paid more than is strictly neces-

sary; because these are always inferior persons,

who can do nothing else.



323

It is even necessary it should be so: these arti-

cles of first necessity are the urgent w ant s of al l,and especially of the poorest of all the other classes

who consume without producing them, being occu-

pied in other pro du ctio ns ; thus the poor can s ub -

sist only in proportion as these articles are easy to

be procured.

The more indispensable then a profession is, the

mtirc inev itable it is that those w ho devo te them-

selves to it for want of other capacity should be

reduced to the strictly necess ary. T h e only direct

means of ameliorating the condition of these men,

the last in ra nk in society from thei r wan t of tale nt,

wou ld be to pers uad e them to multiply less , a nd

to leave them alw ay s free to go and exe rcise theirfeeLle talent whenever it would be the most pro -

fitable. Kor this reason expatriation should alw ay s

be perm itted. T h e re are still some other political

measures which might indirectly concur in defend-

ing extreme weakness against extreme m ise ry ;

we will speak of them elsew here . On the wh ole

these m en, whom w e com passionate with jus tice ,suffer still less than they would in the savage state.

T h e proof is that they vegetate in greater num -

bers, for man extingu ishes but throu gh excess of

suffering.

W e have already said al l this e lsewhere, as

occasions presented t he m selv es; but it was very

necessary to repeat it here on the subject of ta xa -

tion. F o r the history of the revenues and exp en-

ses of governm ent is the abrid gm ent of the histo ry

of production and consumption of the whole society;

since un de r this point of view government is but a



224

very great annuitant, with whom authority elands

instead of cap ital. W ithout too much forcing thesimilitude between the circulation of riches and that

ef the blood, we might say that the circulation ope.

rated by government in society, resembles entirely

the pulmonary circulation in an ind ividual. It is

extracted from the total mass, and returns to

diffuse itself there again after having performed its

functions separate ly; but in a manner absolutely-si-

milar.

If the article taxed is not of the first necessity ,

aud if nevertheless its conventional price is but equal

to its necessary one,, it is a proof that the consumers

bold feebly to this enjoyment. T h en , the tax superve-

ning, the producer has no choice but to renounce hisoccupation, and endeavour to find wa^es in some other

profession; in w hich he will increase misery by his con-

currence, aud in which he likewise is under disadvan-

tage from it, not being his ow n. T h u s they perish, in a

great measure at least. A s to the consumer, he loses

but an enjoyment, to which lie was little attached

apparently, because he easily replaces it by another;which gives occasion to other wag es. But the pro-

duce of the tax becomes null.

If, on the contrary, merchandise of little neces-

sity, stricken by a tax, has a conventional price

greatly superior to its necessary on e— and this is the

case with nil articles of luxury, there is scope

for the treasury without reducing any one preciselyto m isery. T h e sam e total sum is expended for this

enjoyment, unless the taste diminishes which has

occasioned it to be desired : and it is the producer

who loses alm ost the whole of what ibe impost takes



225

from this total sum; but, as he gained more than the

nec essa ry, he is not yet below it. H ow ever it m ustbe observed that this is only true in gen eral. F o r

in this trade, supposed gene rally ad vantag eou s, the re

are individua ls who throu gh w ant of skill or good

fortune, obtain only the slender necessary; and the

impost sup erven ing, these are obliged to aba nd on

the ir profession; w hich is alw ay s a grea t suffering.

It is thus we may represent to ourselves with suf-

ficient accuracy the direct effects of the different im-

posts , local a nd pa rtia l, levied on merch andise in

their passage from the prod ucer to the consu m er.

But, besides these direct effects, these imposts have

others that are indirect, foreign to the first, or which

mix with and complicate them. T h u s a heavy dutyon an imp ortant article , levied at the entranc e of a

city, diminishes on one hand the rent of its houses,

by rendering its habitation less desirable, and on the

other it diminishes the rent of land w hich pro du ces

the dutied article, by rendering the sale less conside-

rable or less advan tageous. H ere then idle capital-

ists, although they should be absent and not consu-mers of any thing, are affected in their capital, as by

a land tax w hile it is believed th at only the consum er

or producer is affected. T h i s is so tru e, tha t these

pro prieto rs, if it we re proposed to them , wo uld m ak e

sacrifices to pay off a part of the funds of this impost,

or directly furnish a part of their annual produce.

T h is we have seen a thousand times.

W h a t is more, in our economical considerations

we often regard as real consumers of an article

those only w ho effectively consume it for their

personal satisfaction; yet they are by no means



SS6

the on ly b uyers of the article. Often the greater

part of those who procure it purchase it as a firstmaterial of other productions, and as a material of

their industry. T hen the tax on these articles

affects all these productions, and all these occupa-

tions. It is what particularly happens to articles

of very general use, or of indispensable necessity.

T h e y make apa rt of the expenses of all producers,

but in different degrees.Finally, we must likewise observe, that the

imposts of wh ich w e are speak ing never fall alto-

gether on a single article. T h e y are at the same

time levied on many different kind s of goo ds , that

is to say on many species of productions and con-

sum ptions. On each, according to its nature, they

operate some of the effects we have just explained 5

So that all these different effects reciprocally clash,

balance and resist each other. For the new ex -

penses, with which any kind of industry is burden*

ed , lessen the promptitude to engage in it, in pre-

ference to another which has also experienced an

injury of the same kind. T h e burden wh ichoppresses one kind of consumption, prevents its

becoming a substitute for that which we w ish to

renounce. W hen ce it results, that if it were pos-

sible so com pletely to foresee all these reverberations

as to be able perfectly to balance a ll the weights

and to place them all at the same time, so as to pro-

duce every where an equal pressure, no proportionwould be changed by them. T h ey would produce

all together no other effect than the general one in-

herent in all imposts, namely that the producer

would have less money for his labour and the con-



227

sumer less enjoyment for his money. W e might

consider imposts as good when to this general andinevitable evil they do not join particular evils toodistressing.

I shall follow no farther this examination of thedifferent kinds of imposts. I think I have saidenough to enable all to judge of them, and especiallyto show as clearly as that is possible on whom theloss occasioned by them really falls.

In effect, we see first, tha t the tax on annuitiesdue by the state and that on the income of land ,are not only annually paid by those on whom theyfall without their being able to throw any part ofthem on others but that they lose even the capita l;

so that after them nobody really pays any thing.Secondly, that it is the same with the tax on therent of houses; but that moreover it restrainsspeculations in building, and diminishes the comfortof tenants. Third ly , that a personal tax, havingacquired riches for its object does no wrong but tothose from whom it is demanded; but does not

liberate those who are to pay it after them»Fourthly, that the loss resulting from a tax on theinstruments of social transactions is really supportedby those from whom it is demanded, whenever theoccasion of paying it occurs ; but that its existencealone is injurious to others, by reducing the priceof several things and shackling several kinds of

industry. Fifthly , that a personal tax which hasfor its object any kind of industry whatsoever,and all taxes on merchandise, burden first all thosefrom whom they are demanded; and, moreover^that they derange all prices and all kinds of in-



£28

dustry; and that, by the effect of their numerous

reverberations they end by falling on all the con-sumers, so as that we cannot precisely ascertain iawhat proportions.

I know that these results, separated, distinguish-ed, modified, will appear less satisfactory than avery dogmatical decision which, treating the seriesof the interests of men as a row of ivory balls,should affirm that which ever is touched the lastonly is put in motion; but I could only repre-sent things as I see them, and not as they may beimagined. If extreme simplicity pleases theunderstanding by relieving it, if even it is for thisthat it creates abstractions, a good understanding

ought not to forget that this extreme simplicity isfound only in itself; and tha t even in mechanics,as soon as there is a question of real bodies, it isnecessary to have regard to many considerations,which have no place so long as we reason onmathematical lines and points. Nevertheless ,urged by the desire of arriving at a positive prin-

ciple, I shall be asked perhaps, as I have beenalready asked on a similar occasion, what is myconclusion, and what is the tax which I prefer.Having exposed the facts, I might leave to thereader to draw his own consequences. But I willgive my opinion with its reasons, warning howeverbeforehand that it will never be absolute, but

always relative.; for a tax i9 never good when itis exaggerated, nor even when it is not in propor-tion to all others.

First I remind, that the consumption of industri-ous men, that which I have called productive con-



829

sumption, being the only one that reproduces what

it destroy s, and being therefore the on ly source ofriches, it is that above all which we ought to endea-

vour not to derange.

Setting out from this truth, the, tax on the annui-

ties due by the state would appear to me the best of

a l l ; but it is impossible to think of it, since w e have

seen that it is a true bankruptcy. It is not that I

think it useful to cherish the public credit. I think,

on the contrary, it is an evil for the government

to have credit, and to be able to borrow; I will give

the reason when I shall speak of its debts. M oral con-

siderations alone determine me inv incibly. So ciety

being entirely founded on conventions, it is impossi-

ble that it should not be pernicious to give an exam-ple of the violation of plighted faith. N o pecuniary

calculation can counterbalance such an inconvenience.

Its consequences are immense and fatal. T h e true

method of taxing annuitants is to adm inister w el l.

T h is causes them to receive but a low interest for

their money.

After this tax, of which we cannot think, the bestin my opinion are those which resemble it the most,

that is to say the taxes on the income of land, and on

the rent of houses, to which we may join that per-

sonal tax which has for its object riches already ac-

quired . It w ill be seen, that if I prefer the tax on

the income of land, it is not for the reasons of the

ancient econom ists. It is on the contrary, because I

regard the proprietors of land as strangers to re-

production. M oreover, I consider these three im-

posts, which bear principally on the ricb, as a com-

pensation for the imp osts on merchandise, which ne-



830

cessarily oppress principally the poor. I have no

need to say that the tax on land ought not to be suchthat m uch land would be neglected.

T h e tax on deed s and social transactions, notwith-

standing its inconveniencies, appear to me adm issible

also, provided it be not exag gerated . Ex ten din g to

many things, it bears on many points, which is al-

w ay s an adv antag e; and it does not press imme-

diately on the first wants of the poor, w hich is also agreat good.

A s to taxes on merchandise, to which we must

jo in the personal tax which has presumed industry

for its object, I begin by rejecting ab solutely all ex -

clusive sal es ; and yet more, all forced sales, as w ell

a s every measure tending to shack le the freedom of la .

bour, and to injure individual property, that is to s ay

Hie entire disposition of personal faculties. T h ese

ex ce sse s provided against, I see nothing to forbid

the establishment of taxes on merchandise. F irs t,

a ll those on articles purely of luxury are excellent,

and h ave nothing bui advantages without any incon-

ven iencies. T h e y diminish the effects of the ex ces-sive inequality of fortunes, by rendering more costly

the enjoyments of extreme luxury . T h e y are the

on ly sumptuary law s which can be approved. But

these are the taxes against which powerful men ex -

claim the most; besides they are always of very

slender product, for in a ll cases it is the great number,

though too much desp ised, which constitutes th eforce. W e must therefore have recourse to taxes

on more useful merchandise, and even on those of

first ne cessity: for, in short, there must be a public

revenue. T h ese , as we have said , bear principal-



ly on tfae po or; but, as we have also said, they are

balanced by those which bear solely on the proprie-tors of land , and they justify them. Besides, leviedat the gates of cities, they contribute to desseminatethe population over the whole extent of the territory,levied at the frontiers, they may be useful on somediplomatic combinations, so long as sound policyhas not their entire direction. I do not think then

we should blame these impositions. I confine my-self to the recommendation, that they never be soheavy as to crush any kind of industry; and thatthey be very various, that they may bear on all.A ll are taken care of when all are so charged as thateach will sustain its part of the common burden,for it must not be forgotten tha t our only question

here is ever how, to do the least evil possible; andthat when we have well distributed the necessaryevil, we have attained the maximum of perfectionin this art.

T h e expense of collection and the necesity ofpunishments are likewise two accessory evils of

taxation, to which, some it is true are more subjectthan others; but on which 1 have nothing to say.But that neither the one nor the other are carriedto extremes when the taxes are not excessive andwhen not enforced by tyrannical forms. T hus Iregard them only as secondary considerations.

T h is is what I think of imposts. But is a more

precise conclusion desired ? Here it is. T he besttaxes in my opinion are, first, the most moderate,because they occasion fewer sacrifices, and lessviolence. Second, the most various, because theyproduce an equilibrium of the whole. T h ird ,



£ 3 *

the most ancient, because they have entered into

all prices and that all are regulated in consequence.Once more 1 fear that this decision w ill not be

satisfactory. It is not sufficiently striking to be

brilliant; but excep t in its moderation, (which it

often wan ting through necessity) it is sufficiently

conformable with what is practised every where ;

and if it be just as 1 think it is , it w ill be a new

example of an intellectual phenomenon very com-mon, but which has not alw ays been sufficiently

remarked: that in matters somewhat difficult the

practice is, provisionally, sufficiently reasonable

long before the theory becomes so; and, when the

subject is thoroughly examined, we perceive that

the good sense of the public (I might almost sa y

the general instinct) has less wandered from theright road than the first scientific sp eculations . T h e

reason is simple. In practice w e are close to the

facts ; they present themselves every moment, they

guide us, they retain us, they continually bring us

back to what is , to the truth. W her eas in specu-

lative combinations, which consist all in deductions,

one first false supposition suffices to lead us very

consequently into the greatest errors, without any

thing apprizing us of it. T h is is the cause of the

blind attachment so generally manifested for what-

ever is in use, and the great distrust inspired b y

every new truth too contrary to it. T h is disposi-

tion is without doubt exaggerated, but it is sufficient-ly founded in reason. However this may be, we

have said enough on the revenues of government.

Let us occupy ourselves with its expenses.



233

W e have little to say on this subject. W e ha ve

seen that government in every country is a verygreat consumer, and a consumer of the kin d of

those who live on revenues, and not on profits;

that it is a very great annu itant with whom auth o-

rity is instead of capital. Co nseque ntly all we

have said of this species of consumers is applicable

to it. I ts exp ense does not re-pro duc e itself in

its ha nd s, w ith an increase of va lue , as in thoseof industrious m en. Its consumption is rea l and

definitive. N o th in g remains from the labou r it

hires. The riches it employs, and which did exist

before they passed into its ha nd s, are consum ed

and destroyed when it has m ade use of them. In

effect, in what consists the much greater part of its

expen se? In paying soldiers, seamen, jud ges ,

and officers of every k in d , and in defraying al l

the exp enses requ ired by these different services.

All this is very useful without doubt, and even

necessary in the w hole, if the desirab le economy

is employed in it ; but nothing of all this is pro du c-

tive. The expenditure which government mayincu r to enrich the favourites of pow er is eq ua lly

sterile, and has not the excuse of necessity nor even

of utility . Accordingly it is still more disag reeab le

to the public, which it injures instead of serving.

It is quite otherwise with funds employed in public

labou rs of a general utility, such as bridg es, ports,

roads, can als , and useful establishm ents and monu-men ts. T h es e expenses are alw ays favourably re-

ga rde d, when not excessive. T h ey contribute in ef-

feet very powerfully to public pro spe rity. H ow ever

they cannot be regarde d as direct]y produ ctive.



£34

in the hands of government, since they do not

return to it with profit and do not create for it arevenue wh ich represents the interest of the funds

they have absorbed, or if that happens, we must

conclude that individuals could have done the same

thin gs , on the same conditions, if they had been

permitted to retain the disposal of the sums taken

from them for this same u se ; and it is even probable

that they would have employed them with moreintelligence and economy. F in al ly , w e may say

the same things of what the government expends,

on different encouragements of the scien ces and

arts. T he se sums are alwa ys small enough and

their utility is most frequently very questionable.

F o r it is very certain that in general the most power-

ful encouragement that can be given to industry of

every kind, is to let it alone, and not to meddle

with it. T h e human mind would advance very

rapidly if only not restrained; and it would be

le d , by the force of things to do alw ays what is

most essential on every occurrence. T o direct

it artificially on one side rather than on another,is commonly to lead it astray instead of guiding it.

Nevertheless let us also admit the constant utility

of this kind of expenses ; not very considerable in

relation to money, it is not the le ss true that, like

all the preceding, they are real exp enses which do

not return.

From all this I conclude, that the whole of thepublic exp enses ought to be ranged in the class of

exp enses justly ca lled sterile and unproductive,

and consequently that whatever is paid to the state,

either under the title of a tax or even of a loan , is



833

a result of productive labour previously executed,

wh ich ought to be considered as entirely consumedand annihilated the day it enters the national trea-

sury. Once more I repeat it, tins is not say ing

that this sacrifice is not necessary, and even ind is-

pen sable . W ithout doubt it is necessary that every

cit izen, from the product of his actual labour, or

the income of his capital which is the product of

more ancient labour, should give what is necessaryto I he state; as it is necessary to keep up his house,

that he may lodge in it in safety. Bu t he should

know that it is a sacrifice he makes ; that what he

gives is imm ediately lost, to the public riches, as

to h is own ; in a word, that it is an expense and

not an investment. F in al ly , no one should be so

blind as to believe that expenses of any kind are

a direct cause of the augmentation of fortune; and

that every person should know well that for politi-

cal societies, as w el l as for commercial on es , an

expensive regimen is ruinous, and that the best is

the most economical. On the who le, this is one of

those truths which the good sense of the peoplehad perceived for a long time before it was clear to

the greatest politicians.

If, from the examination of the ordinary expenses

of government, we pass to that of its extraordinary

exp enses and of the debts which are their conse-

quence, the same principles w ill guide us. T h is 10

likewise a subject on which the general good sensehas greatly preceded the science of the pretended

adepts. Sim ple men have always know n, that

they impoverished themselves by spending more

than their income, and that in no case it it good to



236

be in debt 5 and men of genius believed and even

w rote, not long since that the loans of gove rnm ent area cause of prosperity, and that a public debt is new

w ealth created in the bosom of society. H ow ev er,

since we are convinced, first, that the ordinary ex-

penses of government add noth ing to the genera l

mass of circulation, and only change its course in

a m anner most often disa dv an tag eo us; Sec ond ly,

tha t they are of such a na ture , also , as to add nothingto the mass of riches previously prod uce d, from

which they are tak en , we ouglit to conclude that

the ex trao rdin ary expe nses of this same sjovern-

iheht being of the same natu re as its ord ina ry

expenses, are equally incapable of producing either

the one or the othe r of the se good effects. A s to

the ridicu lous ide a, tha t in issu ing certificates of

dues from the state a new va lue is rea lly created^

it docs not merit a serious refutation : for if those

who receive these certificates possess a certain sum

the more, it is evident th at the state wh ich issues

them must possess an equa l sum, the le s s ; other-

wise we must sa y that as often as I subcribe an

obligation of a thousand francs, 1 augment the total

mass of riches by a thousand francs, which is

abs urd . T h u s it is very certain, that in no case

have we reason to rejoice at the increase of the

consumption of government, and the greatness of

public expenses.

But, finally, when these expenses are very consi-derable, ought we to felicitate ourselves on being

able to meet them by loans , rathe r than taxes ? or,

iu other w ord s, is it ha ppy for the governed, that

the government should m ake use of its cred it, or



237

even that it should have cre di t? T h is is the last

question which remains to be treated) before finish,ing this chap ter. 1 know it is resolved for many

statesmen, and even for may speculative writers,

who firmly believe that public credit constitutes the

force and safety of the state; that it is a great cause

of prosperity in ordinary times, and the only effica-

cious resource in urgent nece ssiti es; and thus that it

is the true palladium of society.Y et I think. I have good reason s for comb atting

their opinion. I w ill 6ay no thing of the grevious

effects of loa ns on the social orga niz atio n, of the

enormous power they give to the. governors of the

facility they afford them of doing whatsoever they

please, of drawing every thing to themselves, of en-

riching their crea ture s, of disp ensin g w ith the as-

sembling and consulting the cit ize ns ; which ope-

rates rap idly the overthrow of every constitution.

T h e se things are not now my subject. I consider

in loans at tiiis moment but their pure economical ef-

fects ; and it is solely under this point of view that

I am going to discuss their advantages and incon-veniencies.

T h e first thing said in favour of loans is , tha t

the funds procured by these means are not taken in-

volu ntarily, from any on e. I thi nk this an illusion.

In effect it is very true, that when government bor-

rows it forces no one to lend; for we must not re-

gard forced loan s, as loa ns , bu t as contribu tions.When, therefore, the lenders carry their money to

the public treasu ry it is freely and vo lu nt ari ly ; but

the operation docs not end the re. T h es e capitalists

have lent, not 'given: and they certainly intend to



lose neither principal nor interest. Consequently,

they force the government to raise, one day or other,a sum equal to that which they furnish and to the

interest which tfoey demand for it. T h u s , by their

ob ligingness, they burthen without their consent not

only the citizens actually existing, but also future

generations. T h is is so true, that the kind of

casement, which their service produces for the pre-

sent moment, only amounts to a rejection of a partof the barren on future times.

This circumstance, in my opinion, gives room for

a great qu estio n; wh ich I am astonished to have

seen no where discussed. A government of any

kind, whether monarchical or polyarchical, in a

word of men now existing , has it a right thus to

burden men not yet in existence, and to compel

them to pay in future tim es their present expenses ?

T h is is not even the case of a testam ent; against

which it has been said, with reason, that no man

Iras the right of being obeyed after his death. F or ,

in fine, the society which for the general good takes

so many different powers from its individual mem-bers may w el l grant them this , and guarantee it

i f it is useful to them ; and the heirs of the testators

are alw ay s at liberty to accept or to refuse their

inheritances, which at bottom belong to them only

IB virtne of the laws which give them, and under

the conditions prescribed by the la w s. But when

there is a question of public interest the case i squite different. One generation does not receive

from another, a s an inheritance, the right of liv in g

in so cie ty ; and of living therein under such law s

as it please s. T h e first has no right to say to the



239

second, if you wish to succeed me, it is thus you

must live and thus you mu9t conduct yourself. Forfrom such a right it would follow that a law oncemade could never be changed- T hus the actuallegislative power, (whatever it be) which is alwaysconsidered as the organ of the actual general will,can neither oblige nor restrain the future legislativepower, which will be the organ of the general will

of a time yet to come. I t is on this very reason-able principle that it is acknowledged in Englandthat one parliament cannot vote a tax but until thecommencement of another, or even until a newsession of the same parliament. I know well thatto apply this principle generally to the debts of acountry where it is not admitted, and where priorengagements have, been entered into bona fide,would be to violate public faith; and I have here-tofore sufficiently manifested my profound beliefthat such an act can never be either just or useful,

two terms for me absolutely equivalent to reason

and virtue. But it is not the less true, to return

to the example of England, that it is contradictory,and consequently absurd that a parliament shouldthink it could not vote taxes but for one year, andshould think it could vote a lo in on a perpetualannuity or on long reimbursements: for this is tovote a necessity for taxes sufficient to pay theseannuities or these reimbursements, without a right

to refuse them. I find the principle formerly ad-mitted in Spain much more sensible and honourable,that the engagements of one king are not bindingon his successor. At least those who contractwith him know the risques they run and have no



240

room for comp laint of w hat may hap pen to them .

W e shall soon see that this princip le, put in p ra c.tice, is as beneficial as it is reasonable.

For the present I only maintain, that, since

definitively the principal and interest of a loan

can never be p aid b ut by tax es, the funds wh ich

governm ent procures by this m ean end alw ays in

being involuntarily taken from individuals; and,

what is worse, from individuals not obliged, because

they have never en gaged either by themselves or

by their legitimate or legal represen tatives. 1 call

legal, those whom the existing law a ut ho riz es ;

and whose acts arc valid , even if the law is not

just .

T h e second adv antag e w hich is found in loa ns ,is that the sums which they furnish are not taken

from productive consumption : since it is not under-

takers of industry who place their funds in the

ha nd s of the state ; but idle capita lists only living

on their revenue , wlio choose this kind of ann uity

rathe r than another. I answ er that this second

adv antag e is not less illusory than the first. F o ralthough it be true that those who leud to govern-

ment are not, in general, the men who have joined

their perso nal indu stry to their capital, to ren-

de r them more useful in produ ctive employm ents ;

ye t it happen s that there are m any of these lend ers

whom the facility of procuring a sufficient existence,

withou t risqu e or fatigue, has alone disgusted from

labou r and throw n them into idleness . B esid es,

even admitting that all were equally idle if the

state h ad not bo rrow ed, it is certain tha t if tiiey

ha d not lent it their money they wou ld have lent



it to industrious men. F ro m that time these indu s-

trious men would have had greater capitals to workon, and, by the effect of the concurrence of lenders,

they wo uld have procured them at a low er interest.

Now these are two great goods of which the public

loans deprive them . In fine it cannot be denied

that without a bank ruptcy , wh en a sum is borrow-

ed it must be repaid ; an d, to rep ay it, it must be

levied on the citizens . T h u s , sooner or later, it

affects ind ustr y as much and in the same m ann er

as if it ha d been levied at first. M ore ov er, th er e

mu st be add ed to this all the interest paid by the

state till the moment of reim bu rsem en t; and it is

easy to see that in few ye ars these interests hav e

doubled the capital, and consequently the evil.But at this day, in Europe, we are so habituated

to the existence of a public debt, that when we have

found the means of borrowing money on perpetual

annuities, and of securing payment of the interest,

w e think ourselves liberated and no longer ow ing

any th in g ; and we do not or w ill not see that this

interest absorb ing a part of the public revenue (whichwas already insufficient) since we have been obliged

to borrow , is the cause that this same revenu e still

less suffices for subsequent expenses ; that soon we

must borrow again to provide for this new deficit,

and load ourselves with new interest; and that, thus

in but a short time it is found tha t a con siderable

portion of a ll the riches ann ually p roduced is em-

ployed, not for the service of the state, but to sup-

port a crowd of useless an nu itan ts. A nd to fill the

measu re of our evils, who a re these l en de rs? M en

not only idle, as are all annuitants; but also com-



pletely indifferent to the success or failure of the in-

dustrious class to which they have lent nothing: ha-ving absolutely no interest but the perm anence of

the borrowing governm ent, whatsoever it be or wh at-

soever it do es ; and at the same, time having no de -

sire but to see it embarrassed, to the end that it may

be forced to ke ep fair w ith them and p ay them bette r.

Co nseq uently natural enemies to the true interests of

society, or at least bciug abso lutely stran ge rs to them .I do not pretend to say that all the annuitants of the

state are bad citizens; but I say that their situation

is calculated to rend er them such . I add further,

that life anu uitie s ten d moreover to brea k family

t i e s ; and that the great abundance of public effects

cannot fail of producing a crowd of licentious gam*

bie rs in the funds. T h e truth of w hat I advance

is manifested in a ve ry odious and fatal m ann er in

all great cities without commerce; and especially in

aH the cap itals in w hich this class of men is very

numerous and very pow erful; and has many means

of giving w eight to their pas sion s, and of pervert-

ing the public opinion.

It is then as erroneous to believe that the loans of

governm ent are not hurtful to national ind us try , as

it is to suppose tha t the funds which they pro duce ,

are not taken from any individual involuntarily.

In truth these are not the real reasons which cause

so much importance to be attached to the possibility

of borrowing. T h e great advantage of loan s, inthe eye s of their pa rtis an s, is that they furnish in

a moment enormous sum s, which could only have

been very slowly procured by means of taxes, even

the most overwhelming. N o w I do not hesitate



£43

to declare that I regard this pretended advan tage

as the greatest of all evils. It is no thing else thana mean of urging men to excessive efforts, which

exhau st them and destroy the sources of the ir life.

M ontesq uieu perceived it w ell. After hav ing pain t-

ed very energetically the state of d istress an d

anxiety to which the exaggeration of the public

expenses had already, in his time, reduced the

peop le of E uro pe , wh o ought by their indu stry tohave been the most flourishing, he adds, " A n d ,

" what p revents all remed y in future, they no longer

" count on the rev en ue s; but m ake w ar wit hi( their cap ital. I t is not un heard of * for states

" to mortgage their funds even du rin g'p eac e, an die employ to ruin themselves means which they

" call ex trao rd ina ry; and which are so much so

" that an heir of a family the most deranged could

" with difficulty imagine t h e m . t "

I t w ill no t fail to be said that this is to abu se

its credit, and not to use i t ; and that the abu se

which may be made of it does not prevent its being

good to hav e it. I answ er, first, tha t the abu se isinseparable from the use, and experience proves

it. It is scarcely two hun dred yea rs since the

pro gre ss of civilization, of ind us try, of com merce,

that of the social ord er, and pe rha ps also the

increase of specie, have given to governments the

facility of makin g loans ; and in this sho rt space

of time these dangerous expedients have led themall either to total or pa rtial ba nk rup tcies, some-

* He oug ht to have said, • it is frequent'.

f Spirit of laws, book 13th. Chap. 17.



S44

times repeated, or to the equally shameful aud

m ore grevious resource of pa pe r m oney , or to re -main overburdened under the weight of a load

which daily becomes more insupportable.

B ut I go farther. I maintain that the evil is not

in the a b u s e ; but in the use itself of loa ns , that is

to say that the abuse and the use are one and the

same th in g ; and that every time a government

borrow s it takes a step toward s its ruin. T h e rea-son of this is sim p le : A loan m ay be a good ope ra-

tion for an industrious man, whose consumption

repro du ces w ith profit. B y means of the sums

which he borrows, he augments this productive

con sum ption; and with it his profits. B ut a go-

vernm ent w hic h is a consum er of the class of those

whose consumption is sterile and destructive, dissi-

pates w ha t it borrow s, it is so much lost for e v e r;

an d it rem ains b urd ene d with a deb t, which is so

much taken from its future m eans. T h is cannot

be othe rw ise. In several countries they have com-

m enced, by being long w ithout feeling the bad

effects of these operations; because the progressof industry and the arts being very great at this

epoch, their advance has been found more rapid

than that of the d e b t ; and the means of the govern-

m ent have not failed to augment also. M an y have

even concluded that a public debt was a source

of prosperity, while it only proved that individuals

did more good than the government did e v il ; b utthis evil w as not the less r e a l ; and nobody now

und ertakes to deny i t.

T h e se cogent reasons are answered by the excuse

wh ich is usu al wh ere no other rem ains. Necessity:



245

but I insist, and affirm, that In the present case

necessity itself is no ex cuse : for it is this very

remedy w hich creates the obligation we are under

to have recourse to it. I w ill exp lain myself.

When a nation is once engaged in a perilous situa-

tion there is no doubt but that there is a necessity

for it to maite the greatest efiorts to free itself from

it. Bdt a body politic does not naturally find" itself

placed in such a situation. A lw ay s eome anterior

cause has brought it to this . Or it has very badly

managed its internal affairs; and thereby encourag-

ed some unquiet neighbour to attack it, to profit by

its weakness ; or, if it has well conducted its o w n

affairs, it has sought to avail itself of it to meddle

unreasonably with those of o ther s: it has abusedits own prosperity to trouble that of others, to under-

take too great enterprises, to raise exaggerated

pretensions; or merely to assume a menacing atti-

tude, which provokes hostile measures and produces

hatred. T hese are, in effect, the faults which com-

monly bring on the necessity of making excessive

efforts, and of having recourse to lo an s; and if itis true that it is by the foolish confidence inspired

by this pernicious resource, that governm ents have

been led into these faults, it wi ll be agreed that

the credit wh ich is regarded as a remedy to these

ev ils is their true cause. N o w history teaches us

that it is in fact since governments have had what is

called credit, that is to say the possibility of em-

ploying in an instant the funds of several year s,

that they have no longer set bounds either to their

prodigality, or their ambition, or their projects, that

they have augm ented their arm ies, multiplied their



846

intrigues, and that they have adopted that intermed-

dling policy w ith which it is impossible to avoidwar or enjoy peace. T hese are the effects of this

pub lic credit which is regarded as so great a good .

B u t,a t least, is it useful in imminent dangers? N o .

T he re is no imm inent danger for a nation, exc ept

a sudden invasion of its territory. In this extreme

case it is not m oney which saves it, it is the concourse

of force, it is the union of w ills . Requisitionssup ply necessar ies, levie s in mass furnish men ;

loans are of no use. T h e end answered by credit

is the maintenance of distant wars, that is to say

their prolongation. It also fails when they become

disastrous that is to say in the moment of necess ity.

T hen peaee is made. It would have been sooner

made if the government had not had credit, or rather

there would have been no war. And , when this

tardy and forced peace is signed, it is perceived

th it of all the lo sses sustained, that most to be re .

gretted, after the useless sacrifice of men, is that of

the sums they would have preserved had they not

had the unfortunate facility of borrowing them.The conqueror himself is never indemnified by his

successes for the sacrifices they have cost, him, and

the debts with which he remains burdened. Fro m

all this I conclude anew, that what is called public

credit, is the poison which rapidly enough destroys

modern governments.

I w ill not, however, advise a law which shouldforbid a government ever to borrow, and the govern-

ed ever to lend . Such a law would be absurd and

useless:— absurd— for it would be founded, lik e

the ev il which it is meant to destroy , on this false



pr inc ip le: that the actual legislative pow er can

bind the legislative power of futurity:—uselessbecause the first thing that would be doue by those

who, in the sequ el, shou ld wish to borrow w ould

be to abolish the law which forbids th em ; and thus

wo uld have a righ t to do it. 1 should wish then

quite a different course to be pu rsu ed . I shou ld

wish them, on the con trary, to recognise and pro-

claim this principle of eternal tr u th : that wh atsoeveris decreed by any legislature whatsoever, their suc-

cessors can always modify, change, annul; and

tha t it shou ld be solemnly de clare d, tha t in future

this salutary principle shall be applied, as it ought

to be, to the engagements which a government may

m ake with money len de rs. B y this the evil wo uld

be destroyed in its root: for capitalists, having no

longer any gu arante e, wou ld no longer lend ; m an y

misfortunes would be prevented, and this would

be a new proof that the evils of humanity proceed

alw ays from some erro r, and that truth cures them .

I t is by this wish that I w ill termina te w hat I had

to say of the revenues and expenses of government,

an d that I w ill finish th is first par t of the trea tise

on the w ill. O nly, before passing to the second I

will yet present to the reader some reflexions on

what we have so far seen.





CHAPTER XIII.

Conclusion,

W E are now arrived at a rem arka ble point on

the road over wh ich I hat! proposed to trave l. I

ask permission to stop here for a mom ent. 1 w illagain repeat to the read er, that w hat he has ju st

rea d is not prop erly a treatise on political economy*

It is the first part of a treatise on the will, which

ought to have two other parts; and which is itself

but the sequel of a treatise on the un ders tand ing.

Every thing here then ought to be co-ordinate with

w hat precedes, and w hat wil l follow. T h u s i t

ought not to excite surprize that I have not entered

into the details of political economy; but it should

have done so if I had not ascended to the origin of

our w ants and of our m ean s, if I had not endea-

voured to show how these wants and means arise

from our faculty of w illing, and if I had neglectedto point out the relatio ns of our physica l w ith our

moral wants.

I t is that I may not meiit these reproaches that

£ have COOKI enccd by a very general introduction,

which no more belongs to economy than to m orality

or to legislation; but in which I have endeavoured

clearly toe xp lain w hat are the ideas for w hich we areindeb ted to our faculty of w illing, and withou t w hich

these three sciences would not exis t for us . I sh all

be told that this introduction is too m etap hy sica l. I

answer that it could not be otherwise, and that it ie



230

precisely because it is very metaphysical that there

is no bad metaphysics in the rest of the work. F ornothing can so effectually preserve us from sophisms

and illusions, as to begin by well elucidating the

principal ideas. W e have not been lon g without

proofs of this.

In fact after having well observed the manner

in which we know our wants, our original w eak ness,

and our propensity to sym pathy, we were no longerin any doubt on the nature of society . W e have

seen clearly that it is our natural and necessary state ,

that it is founded on personality and property, that

it consists in conventions, that these conventions

are all exch ang es, that the essence of exchange

consists in being useful to both the contracting par-

ties, snd that the general advantages of exchanges

(which constitute the social state) arc to produce a

concurrence of force, the increase and preservation

of know ledge, and the d ivision of labour.

After having exam ined in like manner our means

of providing for our wants, we have also seen that

our individual force is our on ly primitive ric hes ;that the employment of this force, our labour, has

a necessary value, which is the only cause of all

the other values; that all our industry consists in

fabrication and transportation; and that the effect

of this industry is alw ays and solely to add a degree

of utility to the things on w hich it is exe rcised,

and to furnish objects of consumption and meansof existence.

Ascend ing alw ays to the observation of our facul-

ties, since personality and property are necessary it

is evident that inequality is inevitable. B ut it is



an ev il. W e have seen what are the causes of its

exaggerated increase, and what its fatal effects.T hes e have explained to us in a very precise

manner what has commonly been said very vaguely

of the different states through which the same peo-

ple successively pass.

Since we all have means, we are all proprietors;

since we all have wants, we are all consumers.

These two great interests always re-unite us.But we are naturally unequal; from whence it

happens, in process of time, that some have pro-

perty in advance, and many others have not.

These latter can only live on the funds of the for-

mer. From thence two great classes of m en, the

hired and the hirers, opposed in interest in the

respect, that the one selling their labor wishes tosell dear, and the other buying it wishes to buy

cheap.

Amongst those who buy labour, some (the idle

rich) employ it only in their personal satisfaction;

its value is destroyed . T h e others (these are the

undertakers of industry) employ it in a useful man-ner, wh ich reproduces what it has cost. T hese

alon e preserve and increase the riches already ac-

quired ; these alone furnish to the other capitalists

the revenues w hich they consume, since doing no-

thing, they can derive no benefit from their cap itals,

whether moveable or imm oveable, but by hiring

them to industrious men in consideration of a rent,which the latter pay out of their profits. T h e

more the industry of the latter is perfected the more

our means of existence are augmented.

In fine, we have remarked that the fecundity of



the, hntnan species is such, that the number of men

is always proportionate to their means of existence;and that wheresoever this number does not continu-

ally and rapidly augment, it is because many indi-

viduals daily perish for want of the means of life.

Such are the principal truths which follow so im-

mediately from the'observation of our faculties, that

it is impossible to dispu te them . T h e y lea d us to

consequences no less certain.After having seen wha t society is, it is impossible

not to reject the idea of foregoing it ab so lute ly, or of

founding it on an entire renuilciatiou of one's self,

and ort a chimerical equality.

After having well unraveled the effects of our in-

du stry , it is impossible not to see tha t there is no-

thing more mysterious in agricultural industry thanin any other, but we discover the inconveniences

wh ich are proper to it, and which are the cause of

the different forms which it takes according to times

and places.

When we have recognized the necessary cause of

all values, we must conclude that it is absurd to pre-

tend that money is but a sign ; an d odious to un-

de rtak e to give it an arb itra ry va lue, or forcibly to

replace it by an imaginary v a lu e ; a nd that every

establishment which tends towards this end is dan-

gerous and pernicious.

W h e n we have seen how the formation of our

riches is operated and their continual renov ation,which we call circulation, we necessarily see that

consumption in itself can never be useful, and that

the exaggerated consumption, called luxu ry , is al-

w ays hu rtfu l: and we cannot o therw ise than find re-



253

diculous, the importance ascribed to men who have

no other merit bu t of being con sum ers, as if tha twere a very rare talent.

Just views of consumption give necessarily just

ideas on that greatest of consum ers, go ve rnm en t;

on the effects of its expenses, its debts, and the dif-

ferent impo sts which compose its reve nu es, and lead

us clearly to trace the different reflections of these

assessments, and to estimate the greater or less evilthey do, according to the different classes of men on

which they fall.

A ll these consequences are rigorous . T h e y

w ill not be the less contested. I t w as necessary

then, to arrive at them metho dically. B ut those

above atl, which will exp erience the greatest opp osi-

tion, are w hat lead us to d eterm ine the degrees of

importance of theulifferent classes of soc iety. H o w

persu ade the great rural pro prieto rs, so much cried

u p , that they are but lenders of money, burdensome

to agriculture and strangers to all its interests?

Ho w convince these idle rich, so much respected ,

that they are absolutely good for nothing; and thatth^ir existence is an evil, inasmuch as it diminishes

the num ber of useful labo urers ? Ho w obtain ac-

knowledgement from all those who hire labour,

that the denrness of wo rkm ansh ip is a desirab le

th in g ; and that, in ge neral, all the true interests of

the poor are exactly the same as the true interest of

the wh ole society. It is not merely the ir intere sts,w ell or ill un de rstoo d, which oppose these tru ths , it

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Political Economy - Tracy