Uni\j$5rsity of California. 
 
 ^T i |^f i^*"\ 
 
 v ^r 
 Alexander Del Man\ 
 
A TREATISE 
 
 POLITICAL ECONOMY; 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 A SUPPLEMENT TO A PRECEDING WORK ON THE UNDERSTANDING, 
 
 012 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 OF FRANCE, AND OF THB AMERICAN 
 PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE UNPUBLISHED FRENCH ORIGINAL. 
 
 
 , . '. . ^^ , 
 
 JUIB 
 
 <; A/JFO v 
 
 GEOKGETOWN, D 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOSEPH 
 
 1817. 
 
 \V. A, Bind & Co, Printers 
 
Diitrict of Cofamlna, t o wit : 
 
 IT) E it remembered* that, on the fifteenth day of March, in the forty-first year of the 
 t ) Independence of the United States of America, Joseph Milligan, of the said Dis- 
 trict has deposited in this o'^cf the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as 
 t Proprietor, in the words following to wit : 
 
 "A Treatise t,n Political Economy; to which is prefixed a supplement 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 
 "of Fra>ct, 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 Translated from the unpublished 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 the 
 " encouragement of learnii .g, by s ; 'curing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and 
 " Prour jeturs of such copies, during the times thrrcii> mentioned." 
 
 G. DENEAIJE, Clerk of the District of Columbia. 
 
MONTICELLO, October Zd, 1818; 
 
 SIR, 
 
 I now return you, according to promise? 
 the translation of M. Destutt Tracy's Treatise on 
 Political Economy, which I have carefully revised 
 and corrected. The numerous corrections of sense 
 in the translation, have necessarily destroyed uni- 
 formity of style, so that all I may 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 wish 
 all science reduced. The merit of this ivork will, 
 I hope, place it in the hands of every reader in our 
 country. By diffusing sound principles of Politi- 
 cal Economy, it will protect the public industry 
 from the parasite institutions now consuming 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 Montesquieu, by 
 the same author, is made with us the elementary 
 book of instruction in the principles of civil go- 
 vernment, so the present work may be in the parti- 
 cular branch of Political Economy. 
 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON 
 
 MR. MlLLIGAN. 
 
LI I! l\ A 
 
 4 
 
 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. 
 They made it a branch only of a comprehensive sys- 
 tem, on the natural order of Societies. Quesnia 
 first, Gournay, Le Trosne, Turgot, & Dupont de 
 Nemours, 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. Many sound 
 and valuable principles, established by them,, have 
 received the sanction of general approbation. Some, 
 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, whose will must be the supreme 
 law. Taxation is, in fact, the most difficult func- 
 tion of government, and that against which, their ci- 
 tizens are most apt to be refractory. The general 
 aim is, therefore, to adopt the mode most consonant 
 with the circumstances and sentiments of the coun- 
 try. 
 
IV 
 
 Adam Smith, iirst in England, published a ration- 
 al and systematic work on Political Economy ; 
 adopting generally the ground of the Economists, 
 but differing oil the subject before specified. Th& 
 system being novel, much argument and detail 
 seemed then necessary to establish principles which 
 now are assented to as soon as proposed. Hence 
 his book admitted to be able, and of the first degree 
 of merit, has yet been considered as prolix and tedi- 
 ous. 
 
 In France, John Baptist Say has the merit of pro- 
 ducing a very superior work on the subject of Poli- 
 tical Economy. His arrangement is luminous, 
 ideas clear, style perspicuous, and the whole sub- 
 ject brought within half the volume of Smith's 
 work ; add to this, considerable advances in correct- 
 ness, and extension of principles. 
 
 The work of Senator Tracy, now announced, 
 comes forward with all the lights of his predecessors 
 in the science, and with the advantages of further 
 experience, more discussion and greater maturity of 
 subject. It is certainly distinguished by important 
 traits ; a cogency of logic which has never been ex- 
 ceeded in any work, 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 leads, and a diction so correct, that not a 
 word can be changed but for the worse; and, as 
 happens in other cases, that the more a subject is 
 understood, the more briefly it may be explained, 
 he has reduced, not indeed all the details, but all 
 the elements and the system of principles, within the 
 rf>mpass of an 8vo, of about 400 pages : indeed, we 
 
V 
 
 might say within two thirds of that space, the one 
 third being taken up with preliminary pieces now to 
 be noticed. 
 
 Mr. Tracy is the author of a Treatise on the ele- 
 ments of Ideology, justly considered as a produc- 
 tion of the first order in the science of our thinking 
 faculty, or of the understanding. Considering the 
 present work but as a second section to those ele- 
 ments under the titles of Analytical Table, Supple- 
 ment, and Introduction, he gives in these preliminary 
 pieces a supplement 'to the Elements, shews how 
 the present work stands on that as its basis, pre- 
 sents a summary view of it, and, before entering on 
 the formation, distribution and employment of pro- 
 perty, he investigates the question of the origin of 
 the rights of property and personality, a question 
 not new indeed, yet one which has not hitherto been 
 satisfactorily settled. These investigations are ve- 
 ry metaphysical, profound and demonstrative, and 
 will give satisfaction to minds 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 at 
 once to the commencement of the main subject of the 
 work, 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. 
 
VI 
 
 Of the employment of our Riches 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 published 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 himself 
 under 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 which was not the au- 
 thor's, and which 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 English ; 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 English 
 language has been brought to what it is ; one half of 
 it having been innovations, made at different times, 
 from the Greek, Latin, French, and other lan- 
 guages and is it the worse for these ? Had the pre- 
 posterous idea of fixing the language been adopted 
 
Vll 
 
 in the time of our Saxon ancestors, Pierce, Plow- 
 man, of Chaucer, of Spencer, the progress of ideas 
 nv.ist have stopped with that of the progress of the 
 language. On the contrary, nothing is more evident 
 than that, as we advance in the knowledge of new 
 things, and of new combinations of old ones, we 
 must have new words to express them. Were Van 
 Helmont, Stahl, Scheele, to rise from the dead at 
 this time, they would scarcely understand one word 
 of their own science. Would it have been better, 
 then, to have abandoned the science of Chemistry, 
 rather than admit innovations in its terms ? What a 
 wonderful accession of copiousness and force has the 
 French language attained by the innovations of the 
 last thirty years? And what do we not owe to Shake- 
 spear for the enrichment of the language by his free 
 and magical creation of words? In giving a loose to 
 neologism, indeed uncouth words will sometimes 
 be offered ; but the public will judge them, and re- 
 ceive or reject, as sense or sound shall suggest, and 
 authors will be approved or condemned, according 
 to the use they make of this license, as they now are 
 from their use of the present vocabulary. The claim 
 of the present translation, however, 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 language would convey his meaning. 
 
 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 AT the encl^f my logic I have traced the plan 
 of the elements of ideology, such as I conceived they 
 ought to be, to give a complete knowledge of our 
 intellectual faculties, and to deduce from that know- 
 ledge the first principles of all the other branches of 
 our knowledge, which can never be founded on 
 any other solid base. It has been seen that I di- 
 vide these elements into three sections. The 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. The third is the application 
 of this knowledge of our faculties to the study of 
 those beings which are not ourselves, that is to say 
 of all the beings which surround 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 errors, appear 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 cannot flatter myself with the hope of bring- 
 ing so important a work 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 
 
X 
 
 faults from which I shall not have been able to 
 guard myself. My 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 tin? second section 
 or the treatise on the will and its efiects ; but before 
 entering on this new subject I think it right to add 
 yet something to that which 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, which are not with- 
 out interest, considering the little progress this sci- 
 ence has hitherto made. Those 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, which 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. The first, which 
 treats of our actions ; the second, which treats of our 
 sentiments ; 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- 
 
 
XI 
 
 tion, although closely connected with one another ; 
 and I shall be very careful not to confound them, 
 notwithstanding the numeroug 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 will appear too abstract ; and 
 that many readers will be impatient at being de- 
 tained so long in generalities which seem to^-etard 
 the moment of real entry on our subject. I can 
 agree that I could have abridged them. Jf I have 
 not done it, it is because I have been well persuad 
 cd 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 will 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. He will see every instant that he 
 
Xll 
 
 lias need of an incidental dissertation, to obviate the 
 difficulties which will have been solved before : 
 and so much the wdrs&for those who should not ex- 
 perience this necessity,, for such are capable of be- 
 ing persuaded without sufficient reason. There are 
 but too many readers endowed with this kind of in- 
 dulgence ; but it is not of their suffrages I am most 
 ambitious. I consent then that they shall accuse me 
 of having said too much ; but I should be very 
 sorry if those who are more difficult, should be able 
 to accuse me of having passed over some links in 
 the chain of ideas. It is especially in the commence- 
 ment that this fault would be most unpardonable, 
 for thej| it might lead to the most serious errors : 
 and it is thence that arise all those erroneous sys- 
 tems which are the more deceiving, inasmuch as the 
 defect is liidden in the foundation, and all that ap- 
 pears is consequent and well connected. Should 
 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 I 
 have been conducted, and that I have only followed 
 the thread which guided me, the series of ideas ex- 
 erting all my attention not to break it. The judg- 
 ment of the public will teach me whether I have suc- 
 ceeded, and I will not forestall it by any other pre- 
 face than this simple advertisement. 
 
 My plan, my motives, and my manner of pro- 
 ceeding have been sufficiently explained in the pre- 
 ceding volumes. 
 
 
ABSTRACT, 
 
 OR 
 
 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 BEFORE commencing the second section of the elements 
 of Ideology, which treats of the will and its effects, I am 
 going to give a supplement to the first, which embraces the 
 history of our means of knowledge. Then will come the 
 introduction to the treatise on the will, which presents the 
 general considerations common to the three parts of which 
 this treatise is composed. The introduction will be followed 
 by the first of these three parts, that which treats specially of 
 our actions. 
 
 SUPPLEMENT 
 
 To the first section of the Elements of Ideology. 
 
 I have previously reduced the whole science of logic to 
 two 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. 
 B 
 
The second is that consequently none of our judgments, 
 separately taken, can be erroneous : inasmuch as we see one 
 idea in another it is actually there ; but their falsity, when it 
 takes place, is purely relative to anterior judgments, which 
 we permit to subsist ; and it consists in this, that we believe 
 the idea in which we perceive a new element to be the same 
 as that we have always had under the same sign, when it is 
 really different, since the new element which we actually 
 see there is incompatible with some of those which we have 
 previously seen ; so that to avoid contradiction we must ei- 
 ther take away the former or not admit the latter. Front 
 these two facts or principles I deduce here fourteen apho- 
 risms or maxims, which constitute in my opinion the whole 
 art of logic, such as it proceeds from the true science of lo- 
 gic- 
 According to the last of these aphorisms, which enjoins us 
 to abstain from judging while we have not sufficient data, I 
 speak of the theory of probability. 
 
 The science of probability is not the same thing as the cal- 
 culation of probability. It 9onsists in the research of data 
 and in their combination. The calculation consists only in 
 the latter part : it may be very just, and yet lead to results 
 very false. Of this the mathematicians have not been suffi- 
 ciently aware. They have taken it for the whole science. 
 
 The science of probability is not then a particular science ; 
 as a research of data it makes a part of each of the science? 
 on which these data depend; as a calculation of data it is 
 an employment of the science of quantity. 
 
 The science of probability is properly the conjectural part 
 of each of the branches of our knowledge, in some of which 
 calculation may be employed. 
 
 But it is necessary to see well what are those of whick 
 the ideas are, from their nature, susceptible of shades suffi- 
 ciently precise and determinate to be referred to the exact 
 divisions of the names of numbers and of cyphers, and in order 
 that in the sequel we may apply to them the rigorous lan- 
 guage of the science of quantities. To this again the mathe- 
 maticians have not paid sufficient attention. They have be- 
 
XI 
 
 Meved that every thing consisted in calculation, and this hag 
 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 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Elements 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. 
 
 We have just finished the examination of our means of 
 knowledge. We must employ them in the study of our fa- 
 culty of will to complete the history of our intellectual 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 thing 
 preferable to another. 
 
 It is a mode and a consequence of the faculty of feeling. 
 
Xll 
 
 SECTION 
 
 From 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 of 
 personality. 
 
 But the mode of sensibility, called the will or willing fa- 
 culty, can alone render this idea of personality complete ; it 
 is then only that it can produce the idea of property as we 
 have it. The idea of property arises then solely from the 
 faculty of will ; and moreover it arises necessarily from it, for 
 we cannot have an idea of self without having that of the pro- 
 perty in all the faculties of self and in their effects. If it 
 was not thus, if there was not amongst us a natural and ne- 
 cessary property, there never would have been a conventional 
 or artificial property. 
 
 This truth is the foundation of all economy, and of all mo- 
 rality ; which are in their principles but one and the same 
 science. 
 
 SECTION 3. 
 From the faculty of will arise all our wants and all our means. 
 
 The same intellectual acts emanating from our faculty of 
 will, which cause us to acquire a distinct and complete idea 
 of self, and of exclusive property in all its modes, are also 
 those which render us susceptible of wants, and are the 
 source of all our means of providing for those wants. 
 
 For 1st. Every desire is a want, and every want is never 
 but the need of satisfying a desire. Desire is always in itself 
 a pain. 
 
 2d. When our sensitive system re-acts on our muscular 
 system 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 only 
 treasure and our only power. 
 
Xlll 
 
 Thus it is the faculty of will which renders us proprietors 
 of wants and means, of passion and action, of pain and power. 
 Thence arise the ideas of riches and deprivation. 
 
 SECTION 4. 
 From the 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, a 
 thing the possession of which is a good. 
 
 To be rich is to possess these goods; to be poor is to be 
 without them. 
 
 They arise all from the employment of our faculties, of 
 which they are the effect and representation. 
 
 These gqods have all two values amongst us ; the one is 
 that of the sacrifices they cost to him who produces them, the 
 other that of the advantages which they procure for him who 
 has acauired them. 
 
 Tne labour from which they emanate has then these \ wo 
 valuer 
 
 Yes ^labour has these two values. The one is the sum of the 
 objects necessary to the satisfaction of the wants that arise ine- 
 vitably in an animated being during the operation of his labour. 
 The other is the mass of utility resulting from this labour. 
 
 The latter value is eventual and variable. 
 
 The first is natural and necessary. It has not however an 
 absolute fixity ; and it is this which renders very delicate all 
 economical and moral calculations. 
 
 We can scarcely employ in these matters but the conside- 
 rations drawn from the theory of limits. 
 
 SECTION 5. 
 From the faculty of will arise also the ideas of liberty and constraint. 
 
 Liberty is the power of executing our will. It is our first 
 good. It includes them all A constraint muiudes all our 
 
XIV 
 
 evils, since it is a deprivation of the power to satisfy our wants 
 and accomplish our desires. 
 
 All constraint is sufferance ; all liberty is enjoyment. The 
 total value of the liberty of an animated being is equal te 
 that of all his faculties united. 
 
 It is absolutely infinite for him and without a possible 
 equivalent, since its entire loss imports the impossibility of 
 the 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. 
 
 SECTION 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, and 
 power the source of all duties; or in other words of the ge- 
 neral duty to employ it well, which comprehends all the 
 others. 
 
 These ideas of rights and duties are not so essentially cor- 
 relative as is commonly said. That of rights is anterior and 
 absolute. 
 
 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, but incapable of action, 
 would have all rights and no duties. 
 
 This being supposed capable of action, and insulated from 
 every other sensible being, has still the same plenitude of 
 rights, with the sole duty of properly directing his actions 
 and well employing his means for the most complete satisfac- 
 tion of his wants. 
 
 Place thisame being in contact with other beings who de- 
 velope to him their sensibility too imperfectly to enable him 
 to form conventions with them ; he has still the same rights, 
 and his duties or rather his sole duty is only changed, so fav 
 
XV 
 
 as lie 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 by 
 the conventions established; but because these conventions 
 are so many means of exercising these rights, of fulfilling 
 this 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 and 
 unjust, properly speaking, commence. 
 
 SECTION /. 
 Conclusion. 
 
 The general considerations just read begin to diffuse some 
 light over the subject with which we are occupied, but they 
 are not sufficient. We must see more in detail what are the 
 numerous results of our actions ; what are the different sen- 
 timents which arise from our first desires, and what is the 
 best 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 PAKT 
 
 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 proper 
 to 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. What are inanimate beings, that is to say beings nei- 
 their sentient nor willing. 
 
 2d. What sentient beings would be with indifference with- 
 out will. 
 
 3d. What are sentient and willing beings but insulated. 
 
 4th. Finally, what are sentient and willing beings like 
 ourselves, but placed in contact 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 state, and his judgment 
 makes 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 our 
 sentiments. 
 
 Under this relation society consists only in a continual 
 succession of EXCHANGES, and exchange is a transaction of 
 such a nature that both contracting parties always gain by 
 
xvii 
 
 it. (This observation will hereafter throw great light on the 
 nature and effects of commerce.) 
 
 We cannot cast our eyes on a civilized country without 
 seeing: with astonishment how much this continual succession 
 of small advantages, unperceived but incessantly repeated, 
 adds to the pnm^ive power of man. 
 
 It is because this succession of changes, which constitutes 
 society, has three remarkable properties. It produces con- 
 currence o f force, increase and preservation of intelligence 
 and J.ivi.nirm of Irihnur. 
 
 The 'itiJHv of these three effects is continually aupnenting. 
 It will be better nerceived when we shall have seen how our 
 riches are formed, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Of Production, or the formation of our Riches* 
 
 In the first place what ought we to understand by the 
 word production ? We create nothing. We operate only 
 ch? no-ess of form and of place. 
 
 To nrnduce is to give to things an utility which they had 
 not before. 
 
 All labour from which utility results is productive. 
 
 That relative to agriculture has in this respect nothing par- 
 ticular. 
 
 A farm is truly a manufactory. 
 
 A field is a real tool, or in other words a stock of first ma- 
 terials. A 
 
 All the laborious class is productive. 
 
 The truly sterile class is that of the idle. 
 
 Manufacturers fabricate, merchants transport. This is 
 Our industry. It consists in the production of utility. 
 
XV111 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of the measure of Utility, or of Value. 
 
 Whatever contributes to augment our enjoyments and to 
 diminish our sufferings, is useful to us. 
 
 We are frequently very unjust appreciators of the real 
 utility of things. 
 
 But the measure of utility which, right or wrong, we as- 
 cribe 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. 
 
 The mean then of enriching ourselves is to devote our- 
 selves to that species of labour which is most dearly paid for? 
 whatever be its nature. 
 
 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. 
 
 This is the great advantage of the progress of the arts. It 
 causes us to be provided for on better terms, because we are 
 so with less trouble. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 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. 
 
XIX 
 
 These advances are furnished by anterior economies, And 
 are called capitals. 
 
 The man of science and the workman are regularly com- 
 pensated by the undertaker ; but he has no benefit but in pro- 
 portion to the success of his fabrication. 
 
 It is indispensable that the labors most necessary should 
 be the most moderately recompensed. 
 
 This is true most especially of those relative to agricultu- 
 ral industry. This has moreover the inconvenience that the 
 agricultural undertaker cannot make up for the mediocrity 
 ef his profits by the great extension of his business. 
 
 Accordingly this profession has no attractions for the rich. 
 
 The proprietors of land who do not cultivate it are stran- 
 gers to agricultural industry. They arc 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 or 
 smaller means, the lessees of great and small farms ; and two 
 almost without means, those who farm on shares and la- 
 bourers. 
 
 Hence four species of cultivation essentially different. 
 
 The division into great and small culture is insufficient 
 and subject to ambiguity. 
 
 Agriculture then i the first of arts in relation to necessi- 
 ty, but not in regard to riches. 
 
 It is because our means of subsistence and our means of 
 existence are two very different things, and we are wrong to 
 confound them. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Of the change of place, or of Commercial Industry. 
 
 insulated man might fabricate but could not trade. 
 For commerce and society are one and the same 
 
XX 
 
 It alone animates industry. 
 
 It unites in the first place inhabitants of the same cs -p 
 Then the different cantons of the same country, - ^d finally 
 different nations. 
 
 The greatest advantage of external commence, the only 
 one meriting attention, is its giving a g ^ter developement 
 to that which is internal. 
 
 v Merchants, properly so railed, facilitate commerce, but it 
 exists before them and without them. 
 
 They give a new value to things by effecting a change of 
 place, as fabricators do by a change of form. 
 
 It is from this increase of value that they derive t^ ' 
 fits. 
 
 Commercial industry presents the same phenumen? as fa- 
 bricating industry ; in it are likewise theory, application and 
 Execution. Men of science, undertakers and workmen ; these 
 are compensated in like manner ; they have analogous func- 
 tions and interests, &c, &c. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Of Money. 
 
 Commerce can and does exist to a certain degree without 
 money. 
 
 The values of all those things, which have any, serve as 
 a reciprocal measure. 
 
 The precious metals, which are one of those things, be- 
 come soon their common measure, because they have many 
 advanta^ for this purpose. 
 
 However they are not yet money. It is the impression of 
 the sovereign which gives this quality to a piece of metal, in 
 establishing its weight and its fineness. 
 
 Silver money is the only true common measure. 
 
 The proportion of gold and silver vary according to times 
 and 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 to 
 which they answer, by an alteration of the real coins, is t 
 
 - ;' 
 
 * a theft which injures even him who commits it. 
 ^fi of greater magnitude, and still more ruinous, is 
 the n: Vin of paper money. 
 
 It , ./ea.vr, because in this money there is absolutely no 
 re?' v?'"p. 
 
 ,ii ir . "nous, because by its gradual depreciation, 
 \ .. tLue of its existence, it produces the effect 
 
 . produced by an infinity of successive dete- 
 i .o ci* the coins. 
 
 All these iniquities are founded on the false idea that mo- 
 ney is but a sign, while it is vu< ue and a true equivalent of 
 that for which it is given. 
 
 Silver being a value, as every other useful thing, we should 
 be allowed to hire it as freely as any other thing. 
 
 Exchange, properly so culled, is a simple barter of one 
 money for another. Banking, or the proper office of a bank- 
 er, consists in enabling you to receive in another city the 
 money which you deliver him in that in which he is. 
 
 Bankers render also other services, such as discounting, 
 lending, &c. &c. 
 
 All these bankers, exchangers, lenders, discounters, &c. &c. 
 have a great tendency to form themselves into large compa- 
 nies under the pretext of rendering their services on more 
 reasonable terms, but in fact to be paid more dearly for them. 
 All these privileged companies, after the emission of a 
 great number of notes, end in obtaining authority to refuse 
 payment at sight ; and thus forcibly introduce a paper mq- 
 
XXII 
 CHAPTER VII, 
 
 Reflections on what precedes. 
 
 Thus far T believe myself to have followed the best course 
 for the attainment of the object which I propose. 
 
 This not being a treatise 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 a 
 rigorous 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. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 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 property 
 as long as there are lands not occupied. 
 
 It is an error in some writers to have pretended there 
 were 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. 
 
 Misery commences when they can no longer satisfy the 
 i alls for labour, which augment. 
 
 The state of great ease is necessarily transitory ; the fe- 
 nndity of the human species is the cause. 
 

 XX111 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Of the 'multiplication of Individuals, or of Population. 
 
 Man multiplies rapidly wherever he has in abundance the 
 means of existence. 
 
 Population never becomes retrograde, 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 numerous 
 in proportion as they have more or less of these means, and 
 make better 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 always 
 attain the limits of possibility, beyond which they only ex- 
 tinguish one another. 
 
 CHAPTER 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, namely 
 the idle who live on their revenue. 
 
 Their means do not augment. 
 
XXIV 
 
 And the active who join their industry to the capitals 
 they may possess. Having reached a certain term their 
 means augment but 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 all 
 the others. 
 
 Thus the extent which that surplus can attain determines 
 that of the total population of which it explains all the varia- 
 tions. 
 
 It follows thence that whatever is really useful to the poor, 
 is always really useful to society at large. 
 
 As proprietors the poor have an interest, first that proper- 
 ty be respected. The preservation even of that which does 
 not belong to them, bu+ from which they are remunerated is 
 important to them. .. It is just and useful also to leave them 
 masters of their labour, and of their abode. 
 
 Secondly. That wages be sufficient. It is of importance 
 also to society that the poor should not be too wretched. 
 
 Thirdly. That these wages be steady. Variations in the 
 different branches of industry are an evil. Those in the 
 price of grain are a still greater one. Agricultural people 
 are greatly exposed to the latter. Commercial people are 
 rarely exposed to the former, except through their own fault. 
 
 As consumers the poor have an interest that fabrication 
 should be economical, the means of communication easy, and 
 commercial relations numerous. The simplification of pro- 
 cess in the arts, the perfection of method are to them a benefit 
 and not an evil. In this their interest is also that of society 
 in general. 
 
 After the opposition of our interests let us examine the 
 inequality 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. 
 
 Inequality of power is the most grievous. It is that 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 fess difficult to avoid, ac- 
 cording to different circumstances. Thence the difference 
 in the destinies of nations. 
 
 It is this vicious circle which explains the connexion of 
 many events which have been always spoken of in a manner 
 very vague and very unexact. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Of the employment of our riches, or of Consumption. 
 
 After having explained how our riches are formed, and 
 how 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 nature of the things consumed. First 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 their profits. 
 
 The first remunerate only sterile labour. Their entire 
 consumption is a pure loss, accordingly they cannot expend 
 annually more than their revenue. 
 
 The others expend annually all their funds, and all those 
 which they hire of the idle capitalists 5 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 wants is definitive and sterile, as that of idle men. 
 
That which they make in their quality of industrious meiQ 
 returns to them with profit. 
 
 It is with these profits they pay their personal expenses, 
 and the interest due to idle capitalists. 
 
 Thus they find that they pay both the hirelings whom they 
 immediately employ, 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 which constitutes circulation, of which produc- 
 tive consumption is the only fund. 
 
 In regard to the nature of things consumed, consumption 
 the most gradual is the most economical the most prompt : 
 is the most destructive. 
 
 \Ve see that luxury, that is to say superfluous consump- 
 tion, can neither accelerate circulation nor increase 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 useless ex- 
 penses have been suppressed. 
 
 All theories contrary to this reduce themselves to this un- 
 tenable proposition. That to destroy is to produce. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Of the revenues and expenses of government and its debts. 
 
 The history of the consumption of government is but a 
 part of the history of general consumption. 
 
 Government is a very great consumer, living not on its 
 profits but on its revenues. 
 
 It is good that the government should possess real proper- 
 ty. Independently of other reasons it calls for so much the 
 less of taxes. 
 
XXV11 
 
 A tax is always a sacrifice which the government demands 
 of individuals. While it only lessens every one's personal 
 enjoyments, 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 one 
 or 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 to themselves. 
 
 We 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 mixed 
 with all prices, and every thing is arranged in consequence. 
 
 As to the expenses of government they are necessary but 
 they are sterile. It is desirable that they be the smallest 
 possible. 
 
 It is still more desirable that government should contract 
 no debts. 
 
 It is very unfortunate that it has the power of contracting 
 them. 
 
 This power, which is called public credit, speedily con- 
 ducts all the governments which use it to their ruin ; has 
 none of the advantages which are attributed to it; and rests 
 on a false principle. 
 
 It is to be desired that it were universally acknowledged 
 that the acts of any legislative power whatsoever cannot bind 
 their successors, and that it should be solemnly declared that 
 this principle is extended to the engagements which they 
 make with the lenders. 
 
XXV111 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 This is not properly a treatise on political economy, but 
 the 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, but 
 to 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. 
 
 This is what I have endeavoured to do. Incontestible 
 truths result from it. 
 
 They will be contested however, less through interest than 
 passion. 
 
 A new bond of union between economy and morality ; a 
 new reason for analizing well our diiferent sentiments, and 
 for enquiring with care whether they are founded on just or 
 on false opinions. 
 
 Let us now consider our sentiments. 
 
LI It R A K' V 
 
 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 I have already treated. At the 
 commencement of the grammar it was necessary to 
 recall the attention of the reader to the analysis of 
 the judgment, 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. 
 
 At 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 since 
 called Ideology, general grammar, or analysis of 
 
at which all the others commence. This ought se 
 to be, as I meant to speak only of the science ; 
 while other logicians, neglecting the science almost 
 entirely, have occupied themselves only with the 
 art. I confess my belief, that my labour 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. Whereas, when we have 
 well established the first truths, it is easy to deduce 
 the consequences which flow from them. Yet this 
 second operation is important also, and as a subject 
 is not completely treated of, but when it is execut- 
 ed, I will present, before proceeding further, sum- 
 marily, but methodically, the series of practical 
 maxims, which result from my method of consider- 
 ing our means of knowledge. The use I shall af- 
 terwards make of these same means, in the study of 
 the will and its effects, will be an example of the 
 manner in which these rales are applied in all our 
 researches. 
 
 APHORISM FIRST.* 
 
 We 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 
 us. 
 
 Observation. 
 
 In like manner, as all our propositions may 
 be reduced to the form of enunciative 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 express a judgment, so 
 
 all our enunciative propositions may afterwards be 
 
 always reduced to some one of these : I think, I 
 
 feel, or I perceive, that such a thing is in such a 
 
 manner, or that such a being produces such an tf- 
 
 fect; propositions of which we are ourselves the sub- 
 
 ject, because in fact we are always the subject of 
 
 all our judgments, since they never express but the 
 
 impression which we experience. 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 From hence it follows : 1st. That our percep- 
 tions are all of them always such as we feel them, 
 and are not susceptible of any error, taken each se- 
 parately, and in itself. 
 
 2dly. That if in the different combinations, we 
 make 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. That we know nothing but relatively to 
 ourselves, and to our means of receiving perceptions. 
 4thly. That these perceptions are every thing for 
 us; that we know nothing ever but our perceptions : 
 that they are the only things truly real for us, and that 
 the reality which we recognize in the beings that 
 cause them is only secondary, and consists only in 
 the permanent power of always causing the same 
 impressions under the same circumstances, whether 
 on ourselves, or on other sensible beings, who givt 
 we an account of them (also by the impressions 
 
6 
 
 which they cause in us) when we have become able 
 to hold communication with them by signs. 
 
 APHORISM SECOND. 
 
 Since our perceptions are all of them always 
 such as we feel them, when we perceive one idea in 
 another, 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. It has always and necessarily 
 the certitude which belongs inevitably to each of our 
 actual perceptions. 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 None of our judgments then can be false, but 
 relatively to anterior judgments, and that suffices to 
 render 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. 
 
 APHORISM THIRD. 
 
 When we see in an idea, or a perception, an 
 element incompatible with those which it included 
 before, this idea is different from what it was, for, 
 such as it was, it excluded this new element which 
 we see there ; and, such as it is, it excludes those 
 which are incompatible with it. 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 That it may then be the same idea which it was 
 before, we must exclude from it the element which 
 we see there at present, or if those which are repug- 
 
nant to it, are misplaced in this idea, they must 
 themselves be excluded from it; that is to say, it 
 must 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 was, before it 
 was changed by a false judgment, without our per- 
 ceiving it. 
 
 APHORISM FOURTH. 
 
 When we form a judgment of an idea, when we 
 see in it a new element, one of these four tilings 
 must necessarily happen: Either the judgment which 
 we now form is consequent to a just idea, in which 
 case it is just ; and the idea without changing its 
 nature has only developed and extended itself. 
 
 Or it is inconsequent to a just idea, in which case 
 it is false ; and the idea is changed, 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. But 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 
 jjdse, taken in mass, may also contain many true 
 
8 
 
 elements. We may form then, in consequence of 
 these true elements, just judgments, and then they 
 will be completely true ; as we may also form from 
 them false judgments, which shall be completely 
 false * but these judgments will 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. 
 
 This is what most frequently happens to us, so 
 few compound ideas have we which are perfectly 
 pure, and without mixture of imperfection. Perhaps 
 we have none. Perhaps it would suffice for us to 
 have one alone, to render all our others the same r 
 by the sole force of their relations and combinations, 
 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 admit an element which is opposed 
 to them. That is to say, which denaturalises and 
 changes them, without our perceiving it. 
 
 APHORISM SIXTH. 
 
 This would never happen to us, if we had al- 
 ways present to the mind, that which the idea com- 
 ports, of which we judge. Thus all our errors real- 
 ly come from this : that we represent the idea im- 
 perfectly to ourselves. 
 
APHORISM SEVENTH. 
 
 What precedes not appertaining to any circum- 
 stance peculiar to any one of our perceptions rather 
 than to another, agrees generally with all. 
 
 Corollary. 
 
 Hence it follows, 1st. That our manner of pro- 
 ceeding is the same for our ideas of every kind. 
 
 &dly. That all our errors originate from the ba- 
 sis of our ideas, and not from the form of our reason- 
 ings. 
 
 3dly. That all the rules which can be prescribed 
 for the forms of these reasonings, can contribute noth- 
 ing to avoid error 5 or at least can contribute to it but 
 accidentally. 
 
 APHORISM EIGHTH. 
 
 We have then no other effectual means 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. 
 
 That 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- 
 rously the same idea in their different degrees of 
 extension. 
 
10 
 
 APHORISM NINTH. 
 
 This general and only method embraces several 
 others, and first that of studying 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 whick 
 really appertain to the idea in question, the se- 
 cond to separate from it in like manner all those 
 which are foreign to it, and which might mingle 
 themselves with it, and alter it, without our per- 
 ceiving it. 
 
 APHORISM TENTH. 
 
 After these two necessary preliminaries, if we 
 are still in doubt as to the judgment we are to form, 
 the most useful expedient of which we can avail 
 ourselves, is to make an enumeration the most com- 
 plete possible of the elements composing the ideay 
 which is the subject of the judgment, and principal- 
 ly of those which have relation to the idea which we 
 propose to attribute to it, that is to say, to the attri- 
 bute of the contemplated judgment. 
 
 Observation. 
 
 The effect of this operation is 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 proposed 
 attribute, or which on the contrary may exclude it. 
 
 It is the object which the logicians propose to at- 
 tain by what they call definitions ; but in my opi- 
 nion they fall into several errors relatively to defi- 
 nitions, and they greatly mistake their effects and 
 properties. 
 
 1st. They believe that there are definitions 
 of words, and definitions of things, while in truth 
 there are none but definitions of ideas. When 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 I express when I pronounce its name. 
 
 2i\. They aver that definitions are principled, 
 and that we cannot dispute about definitions. These 
 two assertions are contraries, and yet both of them 
 false. 
 
 In the first place they are contradictory, for if de- 
 finitions are principles, we can and we ought fre- 
 quently to question their truth, as we ought never 
 to recognise any principle as true without a previ- 
 ous examination, and if we cannot contest defini- 
 tions, they cannot be principles, since every princi- 
 ple should be proved before it is admitted. 
 
 Again, these two assertions are both false. De- 
 finitions are not principles ; for facts are the on- 
 ly true principles ; and definitions are not facts, 
 but simple explanations founded on facts, as all 
 our other propositions whatsoever. Now we may 
 contest a definition, as every other proposition 3- for 
 
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 with 
 that being, and that we may so conceive it without 
 error ; now .this is what may be false, and what 
 may be contested. So also when I explain the idea 
 which I have of the sense of a word, I do not 
 solely pretend that I have this idea, I pretend 
 further that it does not affect the real relations of 
 this word with an infinity of others, that we may 
 employ it in this sense without inconvenience and 
 without inconsequence ; now this is what again 
 may be contested with reason. In fine, if I should 
 pretend by a definition only to explain the com- 
 plex and compound idea that I have actually in my 
 head, yet it should always be allowed to show me 
 that this idea is badly formed, that it is composed 
 of judgments inconsequent the one to the other, 
 and that it includes contradictory elements. Then 
 definitions never are principles, and yet they al- 
 ways are contcstible. 
 
 3dly. The logicians have believed that the defi- 
 nition is good, and that the idea defined is perfectly 
 explained when they have determined it, per genus 
 proicimum et differentiam specijicam, as they say ; 
 that is to say, when they have expressed that one 
 of its elements which consti tutes it of such a genus, 
 and the one which in this genus distinguishes it 
 from the ideas of the neighbouring species. Now 
 this is still false, and is only founded on the fantas- 
 tical doctrine, in virtue of which they believed they 
 were able to dish-Unite all our ideas into different 
 arbitrary classes called categories. 
 
13 
 
 That is false, first, because these arbitrary classi- 
 fications never represent nature. Our ideas are con- 
 nected the one to the other by a thousand different 
 relations. Seen under one aspect they are of one 
 genus, and under another they are of another ge- 
 nus ; subsequently each of them depends 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. Thus we can never, or almost never 
 find really the proximate genus or specific difference 
 which deserves exclusively to characterise an idea. 
 
 Moreover, 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 class 
 it, the idea would 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 
 have given place to the definition. Assuredly when 
 I say that gold is a metal, and the heaviest of me- 
 tals except platina, I have correctly ranged gold 
 in the genus of beings to which it belongs, and I 
 have distinguished it by a characteristic difference 
 from those nearest to it in that genus. Yet this 
 does not help me to know whether the use of gold, 
 as money, is useful to commerce, or pernicious to 
 morality, nor even whether it is the most ductile of 
 metals. The two first questions depend on ideas 
 too foreign to those which fix gold in a certain 
 place amongst metals; and though the latter maybe 
 less distant, yet we do not know the direct and ne- 
 cessary relation between weight and ductility. 
 
Logicians have been mistaken respecting the na- 
 ture, the effects and properties of definitions. They 
 are incapable of answering the end which they pro- 
 pose to attain by their means, that of presenting 
 the idea of which we are to judge in such a man- 
 ner that we cannot avoid forming a just judgment. 
 The only mean of attaining this is to make the 
 best description possible of the idea, and with th 
 precautions which we have indicated. 
 
 ILemark. 
 
 It is necessary to observe that all that we have 
 advised in the 8th, 9th and 10th aphorisms, and al- 
 so what we shall advise hereafter to be done, to 
 know well the idea, the subject of the judgment in 
 question is equally applicable to the idea which is 
 the attribute of the same judgment, a knowledge of 
 which is equally essential, and can only be acquir- 
 ed by the same mean. 
 
 APHORISM ELEVENTH. 
 
 The means indicated above of knowing well the 
 idea of which we are to judge, are the only re- 
 ally efficacious ones in bringing us to the formation, 
 of just judgments; but they may very possibly be in- 
 sufficient to give us a certitude of having succeeded. 
 We must therefore add subsidiary means. 
 
 APHORISM TWELFTH. 
 
 The best and most useful of our secondary means 
 is to see, on the one hand, if the judgment we are 
 te form is not in opposition to anterior judgments, 
 
15 
 
 of the certitude of which we are assured; and on the 
 other if it does not necessarily lead to consequences 
 manifestly false. 
 
 Remark. 
 
 The first point is that which has so strongly ac- 
 credited the usage of general propositions ; for, as 
 we can confront them with a number of particular 
 propositions, we have frequently had recourse there- 
 to, and we have habituated ourselves to remount no 
 further, and to believe that they are the primitive 
 source of truth. The second is the motive of all 
 those reasonings which consist in a reduction to 
 what is absurd. 
 
 Observation. 
 
 The process recommended in this aphorism is a 
 species of proof to which we submit the projected 
 operation. It is very useful to avoid error, for if 
 the judgment we examine is found in opposition to 
 anterior ones which are just, or necessarily connect- 
 ed with false consequences, it is evidently necessary 
 to 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. 
 
 In a case in which we want decisive reasons to 
 determine us, no other resource is left us but to en- 
 deavour to obtain new lights, that is to say, to in- 
 troduce new elements into the idea which is the sub- 
 
16 
 
 ject of the judgment we are to form. This can be 
 done in two ways only, either by seeking to collect 
 new 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. 
 
 The advice contained in this aphorism, is only 
 the developement 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. 
 
 Finally, when the motives of determination fail 
 us invincibly, we should know how to remain in 
 complete doubt, and to suspend absolutely our judg- 
 ment, rather than rest it on vain and confused ap- 
 pearances, since in these we can never be sure that 
 there are not some false elements. 
 
 Remark and conclusion. 
 
 This 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 error ; all 
 our errors arising always from admitting into that 
 which we know elements which are not really 
 there, and which lead us to consequences which 
 ought not to follow from those that are there effec 
 tively. 
 
17 
 
 In effect, if from our first impressions the most 
 simple to our most general ideas, and their most 
 complicated combinations, we have never recogniz- 
 ed in our successive perceptions but what is there, 
 our last combinations would be as irreproachable as 
 the first act of our sensibility. Thus, in logical ri- 
 gour, it is very certain that we ought never to form 
 a judgment but when 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 
 are frequently obliged, nevertheless, to form a reso* 
 lution provisionally ; to form none being often to 
 adopt one of the most decisive character, without 
 renouncing the principle we have just laid down, or 
 in any manner derogating from it. It is now 
 proper to speak of the theory of probability. It is 
 a subject I encounter with reluctance. First, be- 
 cause it is very difficult, and as yet very little eluci- 
 dated ; next, because one cannot hope to treat it pro- 
 foundly when one is not perfectly familiar with the 
 combinations of the science of quantities, and of the 
 language proper to them* Finally, because even 
 with these means the nature of the^subject deprives 
 us of the hope of arriving at almost any certain re- 
 sult, and leaves us only that of a good calculation of 
 chances. Let us, however, endeavour 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* 
 8 
 
18 
 
 plement to it. Logic teaches us to form just judg- 
 ments, and to make series of judgments : that is to 
 say, of reasonings which are consequent. Now, 
 properly speaking, there are no judgments or series 
 of judgments which are probahle. When we judge 
 that an opinion or a fact is prohahle, we judge it po- 
 sitively ; 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 it 
 will 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 judgment that such a 
 property appertains to such a body ; as the science 
 of extension teaches us to form the judgment thai 
 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, which belong to their 
 province. Nevertheless we cannot say, and we do 
 not say, that they are but parts of logic, nor even 
 that they are supplements to it. They all on the con- 
 trary throw light on the subjects of which they treat 
 only in consequence of the means and processes with 
 which they are furnished by sound logic. This is 
 useful to all the sciences ; but none of them either aid 
 it immediately, supply its place, make a part of it, 
 or are supplements to it. The 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 farther ; the science to which we have 
 given the name of the science of probability, is not 
 a science : or to explain myself more clearly, we 
 comprehend erroneously under this collective and 
 common name a multitude of sciences or of portions 
 of sciences quite different among themselves, stran- 
 gers to one another, and which it is impossible to 
 unite without confounding them all. In effect, that 
 which is called commonly the science of probabili- 
 ty comprehends two very distinct parts, of which 
 one is the research, and the valuation of data, 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 it : thus it depends on and forms a part 
 of the science of history. 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 probable 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- 
 pends on social and moral science, or on ideology. 
 Finally, when it is only to foresee the chances of the 
 play 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 against 
 which it may strike, the motion proper to the 
 
20 
 
 arm which casts it, and which are more or less easy 
 to it. Thus these data would still depend on the 
 physical 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 probability is composed of a multitude of differ- 
 ent sciences, according to the subject on which it is 
 employed ; and consequently it is not a particular 
 science. 
 
 As to the combination of the data once established, 
 the science of probability is nothing, when we em- 
 ploy calculation therein, but the science of quantity 
 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 perfect 
 calculation 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. 
 
 We see then that neither in regard to the research 
 and valuation of data, nor in regard to the combina- 
 tions of these same data, the pretended science of 
 probability is not a particular science distinct from 
 every other. 
 
 We might rather consider it either as a branch of 
 the science of quantities, and as an employment 
 which we make of it in certain parts of several dif- 
 ferent sciences which are susceptible of this appli- 
 cation, or as the reunion of scattered portions of ma- 
 ny sciences, strangers the one to the other, which 
 have only so much in common as to give place to 
 such questions as can only be resolved by a very 
 
learned and very delicate employment of the admi- 
 rable means of calculation furnished by the science 
 of quantities in the state of perfection which it has 
 at this time attained ; but this is not seeing the the- 
 ory of probability in its full extent, for we cannot 
 always employ calculation in the estimation of pro- 
 bability. Nevertheless this manner of considering 
 and decomposing what is called the science of pro- 
 bability explains to us already many of the things 
 which concern it, and puts us in the way of form- 
 ing to ourselves an accurate and complete idea of it. 
 
 We see first why it is the mathematicians who 
 have had the idea of it, and who have, if we may 
 so say, created .andmade it entirely. It is because 
 such as they have conceived it, it consists principal- 
 ly in the employment of a powerful agent which was 
 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. 
 
 We also see why these mathematicians principal- 
 ly and almost entirely employed them selves on sub- 
 jects of which the data are very simple, 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 advantage 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 data 
 present scarcely any difficulty ; and it is in fact in 
 cases of this kind that they have obtained a success 
 both curious and useful. 
 
We moreover see why 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 numerous, 
 subtile and complicated, have produced little else 
 than witty conceits which may be called dijficiles 
 tmgae, learned trifles. It is because the farther 
 they have pursued the consequences resulting from 
 the small number of data which they have been 
 able 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. This is the cause why 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 assemblies, 
 and particularly to the judgments of tribunals, ei- 
 ther has not ventured to decide 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 ir^conveniencies 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 
 be regretted man, I do not fear to pass so bold a 
 
sentence on this part of his labors, for T am in some 
 measure authorized to do it by himself. The title 
 of 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 human mind, and in which he has 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 362 " This application, not- 
 withstanding the happy 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." Yet he 
 had then made not only the learned essay of which 
 we are speaking, but also a work greatly superior, 
 the elements of the calculation of probabilities and 
 of its application to games of hazard, to lotteries 
 and to the judgments of men, which were 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, without the omis- 
 sion of any of them, the great talent of well com- 
 bining those, not sufficiently numerous, which have 
 been perceived, has not been sufficient to preserve 
 the most skilful calculators from important errors 
 and great misreckonings. We perceive that that 
 was to be expected. But now Imuet go further, and 
 
all tliis leads ine to a last reflection, which flows 
 from the nature of things, like those which have 
 just 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 within certain limits ; but which appear 
 to me to show manifestly, how far the calculation 
 of probabilities is from being the same thing with 
 the theory of probability. Observe in what this 
 observation consists. 
 
 The principal object of the theory of probability 
 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 effects 
 which ought to follow ; and setting out from the re- 
 union of a certain number of known effects, to de- 
 termine the degree of the probability of the causes, 
 which have been able to produce them. We may 
 even say that all the results of this theory are but 
 different branches of this general result, and may 
 be traced to be nothing more than parts of it. 
 
 Now we have previously seen, and on different' 
 occasions, that for beings 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 and invariable divisions of the 
 ideas of quantity, and to the series of the names of 
 numbers and of cyphers, which express them. This 
 is a condition necessary to the validity of every cal- 
 culation from which that which has probability for 
 its object, cannot be any more exempt, than that 
 which conducts to absolute certainty. 
 
Hence it rigorously follows, that there is a mul- 
 titude of subjects of which it would be absolutely 
 impossible to calculate the data, if even (which is 
 not always the case) it should be possible to collect 
 them all without overlooking any. 
 
 Assuredly the degrees of the capacity, of the pro- 
 bity of men, those of the energy and the power of 
 their passions, prejudices and habits, cannot possi- 
 bly be estimated in numbers. It is the same as to 
 the degrees of influence of certain institutions, or of 
 certain 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 inventions, or of certain processes. I know that 
 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 which are after- 
 wards to lead to others which cannot fail to become 
 entirely fantastical. 
 
 Is an example desired, very striking, drawn from 
 a subject which surely does not present as many 
 difficulties of this kind as moral ideas? Here is 
 4 
 
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 laws of animated mechanics, 
 the certainty of which should still preserve them 
 from many errors. Yet some have been led to estimate 
 this effort at several thousands of pounds, and others 
 only at some ounces ; and nobody knows with cer- 
 tainty which are nearest to truth. What 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 ? 
 It 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 completely 
 inapplicable. These 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- 
 guish them. It is for the science of the formation 
 of our ideas, for that of the operations of our intelli- 
 gence, in a word for sound ideology, to teach us 
 the 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. It already shows 
 tas that the science of probability is a thing very 
 distinct from the calculation of probability with 
 which it has been confounded, since it extends to 
 many objects to which the other cannot attain. This 
 is what I principally proposed to elucidate. 
 
37 
 
 finally, as I have before announced, this obser- 
 vation does not destroy the great hopes which the 
 pirecing genius of Condorcet 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 expressed in 
 numbers, and if there are many other things rela- 
 tive to social science, which are equally incapable 
 of being estimated and calculated directly, these 
 things depend on others which often render them 
 reducible to calculable quantities, if we may use the 
 expression. Thus for example, the degrees of the 
 value 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 all 
 those 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. Time and different kinds of 
 resistance and waste are susceptible of very exact 
 divisions. This is sufficient for us, and we 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 quantities 
 presented which appear calculable, but which are 
 inextricably complicated by mixture with those 
 other species of quantities which I permit myself 
 to call refractory, and then if calculation be applied 
 thereto, the most skilful mathematicians are inevi- 
 tably led into enormous errors ; against this in my 
 opinion they have not always been sufficiently on 
 their guard. As to these two latter cases we may 
 say of calculation what has been said of the syllo- 
 gistic art as to all our reasonings whatsoever; that 
 is, that it conducts our mind much less correctly 
 than the simple light of good sense aided by suffi- 
 cient attention. 
 
 This is all I had to observe on the science and 
 calculation of probability, and I draw from it the 
 following consequences : The theory of probability 
 is neither a part of nor a supplement to logic. This 
 theory moreover is not a science separate and dis- 
 tinct from all others. All sciences have a positive 
 and a conjectural part. In all of them the positive 
 part consists in distinguishing the effects which al- 
 ways and necessarily follow certain causes, and the 
 causes which always and necessarily produce certain 
 effects. In all of them also the conjectural part con- 
 sists in proceeding from the reunion of a certain 
 number of given causes to determine the degrees of 
 probability of the effects which ought to follow from 
 them, 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 been 
 able to produce them. In these two parts, when the 
 ideas compared are not of a nature to comport with 
 
39 
 
 the application of the names of numbers and of fi- 
 gures, we can only employ the ordinary instruments 
 of 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 their 
 subdivisions are susceptible of adaptation to the di- 
 visions of the series of the names of numbers, and 
 of figures, we can employ with great advantage, in- 
 stead of the ordinary instruments of reasoning, the 
 instruments proper to the science of the ideas of 
 quantity, that is to say, the language of calculation, 
 its formulas, and its signs. It is this which consti- 
 tuteg in respect to the conjectural part the calcula- 
 tion of probability. It is necessary to distinguish it 
 carefully from the science of probability; for the 
 one is of use in all cases in which the object is 
 a likelihood of any kind whatsoever ; it is properly 
 the conjectural part of all other sciences, whereas 
 the other calculation has place only in those cases 
 in which we can employ the language of calcula- 
 tion ; it is biit an instrument, of which unhappily 
 the science of probability cannot always avail it- 
 self. 
 
 The science of probability consists in the talent 
 and sagacity necessary to know the data, to chuse. 
 them, to perceive their degrees of importance, to 
 arrange them in convenient order, a talent to which 
 it is very difficult to prescribe precise rules, because 
 it is often the product of a multitude of unperceived 
 judgments. 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 k is necessary carefully to 
 distinguish the occasions on which we 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 which are truly incalcu- 
 lable, we are inevitably led into the most excessive- 
 mis reckonings. It is what I think has happened 
 but too frequently to skilful men, who by their 
 knowledge, 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 useless. I have much more 
 reason than Condorcet for saying " I have not 
 " thought that I was giving a good ivork, but mere- 
 (i 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 of 
 votes, 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, the 
 three works in which we are best able to see the general spirit and 
 process of the calculation of probabilities, and where we can the most 
 easily discover the causes of its advantages and inconveniences, al 
 though they are not yet there completely developed, 
 
 I 
 
31 
 
 Not wishing to occupy myself longer with the 
 conjectural part of our knowledge, 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 logical art, such as it pro- 
 ceeds from true logical science 5 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 is 
 this I am going to undertake, with a hope that my 
 instruments being better, I may better succeed than 
 perhaps men more skilful but not so well a 
 
' 
 

 SECOND SECTION 
 
 Elements of Ideology, or a treatise on the will and 
 its effects. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 SECTION FIRST. 
 
 The faculty of willing is a mode and a consequence of the faculty o*f 
 feeling. 
 
 WHAT has been now read is the end of all that 
 I 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 we 
 conceive and imagine it, is not perhaps either as 
 perfect or as complete as might be desired; but 
 I believe at least that it discovers clearly to us the 
 origin and the source of all our knowledge, and the 
 true intellectual operations which enter into its com- 
 position, and that it shows us plainly the nature 
 and species of certitude of which this knowledge is 
 susceptible, and the disturbing causes which rendej- 
 it uncertain or erroneous. 
 
 Strengthened with these data we can therefore 
 endeavour to avail ourselves of them, and employ 
 5 
 
34 
 
 ur means of knowledge either in the study of the 
 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. Consequently I shall go 
 back to the point at which I endeavoured to trace 
 the plan ; and I shall permit myself to repeat here 
 what I then said in my logic, chap. 9th, page 432. 
 Obliged to be consequent, I must be pardoned for 
 recalling the point from whence I set out. 
 
 " This second manner I have said of considering 
 " our individuals, presents us a system of phenome- 
 (i na so different from the first, that we can scarcely 
 " believe it appertains to the same beings, seen 
 " merely under a different aspect. Doubtless we 
 " could conceive man as only receiving impressions, 
 " recollecting, comparing and combining them al- 
 " ways with a perfect indifference. He would then 
 "be only a being, knowing and understanding 
 " without passion, properly so called (relatively to 
 " 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 certainly 
 " on this supposition whatever were his faculties 
 " for judging and knowing they would rest in 
 " great stagnation, for want of a stimulant and 
 " agent to exercise them. But this is not man ; he 
 " is a being willing in consequence of his impres- 
 " eions and of his knowledge, and acting in conse- 
 
" quence of his will.* It is that which constitutes 
 " him on the one part susceptible of sufferings and 
 " enjoyments, of happiness and misery, ideas correla- 
 " tive and inseparable, and on the other part capable 
 " of influence and of power. It is that which causes 
 * f him to have wants and means, and consequently 
 " rights and duties, either merely when he has re- 
 " lation with inanimate beings only, or more still 
 " when he is in contact with other beings, suscepti- 
 " ble also of enjoying and suffering ; for the rights 
 fi of a sensible being are all in its wants, and its 
 f{ duties in its means ; and it is to be remarked that 
 f ' weakness in all its forms is always and essenti- 
 " ally the principle of rights ; and that power, in 
 " whatsoever sense we take this word, is not and 
 ^ can never be but the source of duties, that is to 
 66 say of rules for the manner of employing this pow- 
 " er." Where there is nothing, the old proverb just- 
 ly says the king loses his right : but a king as ano- 
 ther person cannot lose his rights, but in as much as 
 another individual loses his duties in regard to him ; 
 which is saying in an inverse sense, that he who 
 can do nothing, has no more duties to fulfil, has no 
 longer any rule to follow for the employment of his 
 power, since it has become null. That is very true. 
 Wants and means, rights and duties, arise then 
 from the faculty of will ; if man willed nothing he 
 would have nothing of all these. But to have wants 
 and means, rights and duties, is to have, is to pos- 
 sess, something. These are so many species of 
 property, taking this word in its most extensive 
 
 * We may say as much of all animated beings which we know, and 
 even of all those we imagine. 
 
36 
 
 signification They are things which appertain to 
 us. Oar means are even a real property, and the 
 first of all, 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. We must begin then by explaining this 
 latter ; and this can only be done by remounting to 
 its origin. Now this idea of property can only be 
 founded on the idea of personality. For 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. We must first therefore exa- 
 amine and determine the idea of personality ; but 
 before proceeding on this examination, there is yet 
 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 which we wish to give its history. 
 We have no other means of seeing clearly how this 
 faculty produces these ideas, and how all the con- 
 sequences which result from it may be regarded as 
 its effects It is thus that always by remounting, or 
 rather by descending step 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 engages us. This 
 truth is perhaps more precious in itself than all 
 those we shall be able to collect in the course of 
 our work. I will commence then by an exposi- 
 tion of that in which the willing faculty consists. 
 
3? 
 
 This faculty, or the will, is one of the four pri- 
 mordial faculties, which we have recognized in the 
 human understanding, and even in that of all ani- 
 mated beings, and into which we 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. 
 
 We have considered the faculty of willing as the 
 fourth and last of these four primitive and necessa- 
 ry subdivisions of sensibility ; because in every de- 
 sire, in every act of willing or volition, in a word, 
 in every propensity whatsoever, we can always con- 
 ceive the act of experiencing an impression, that of 
 judging it good either to seek or avoid, and even 
 that of recollecting it to a certain point, since by 
 the very nature of the act of judging we have seen 
 that the idea, which is the subject of every judg- 
 ment, can always be considered as a representation 
 of the first impression which this idea has made. 
 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 will. On the contrary 
 I believe that to have a just idea of it, we must form 
 one much more extensive; and nothing previously 
 established prevents us from it : for since we have 
 said that even in a desire the most mechanical, 
 and the most sudden, and in a determination the 
 most instinctive; the most purely organic, we ought 
 
88 
 
 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 tan 
 without contradicting ourselves regard all these pro- 
 pensities, even the most sudden and unstudied, as 
 appertaining to the faculty of willing ; though we 
 have made it the fourth and the last of the elemen- 
 tary faculties of our intelligence. I even think it is 
 necessary to do so, and that the will is really and 
 properly the general and universal faculty of finding 
 one thing preferable to another, that of being so af- 
 fected as to love better such an impression, such a 
 sentiment, such an action, such a possession, such 
 an object, than such another. To love and to hate 
 are w r ords solely relative to this faculty, which 
 would have no signification if it did not exist ; and 
 its action takes place on every occasion on which 
 our sensibility experiences any attraction or repul- 
 sion whatsoever. At least it is thus I conceive the 
 will in all its generality ; and it is by proceeding 
 from this nianenr of conceiving it that I will attempt 
 to explain its effects and consequences. 
 
 Without doubt the will, thus conceived, is a part 
 of sensibility. The faculty of being affected in a 
 particular manner cannot but be a part of the facuU 
 ty of being affected in general. But it is a distinct 
 mode of it, and one which may be separated from 
 it in thought. We cannot will without a cause, 
 (this is a thing very necessary to be remarked, and 
 never to be forgotten,) thus we cannot will without 
 having felt, but we may always feel in such a man- 
 ner as never to will. We have already said that 
 
39 
 
 we can imagine man, or any other animated and 
 sensible being, as feeling in such a manner that eve- 
 ry thing would be equal to him ; that all his affec- 
 tions, although distinct, would be indifferent to him ; 
 and that consequently he could neither 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 and 
 sensible being would yet be a feeling being. He 
 could even be discerning and knowing, that is to say 
 judging. It will be sufficient for this that he should 
 feel the difference of his various perceptions, and 
 the different circumstances of each, although incapa- 
 ble of a predilection for any of them, or for any of 
 the combinations of them which he can make ; on- 
 ly, and we have before made the remark, the know, 
 ledge of the animated being thus constituted would 
 necessarily be very limited. Because 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 intention, since to have an intention 
 he must have a desire, and every desire supposes a 
 preference of some sort. 
 
 I will observe, by the way, that this supposition 
 of a perfect indifference in sensibility shows very 
 clearly, in my opinion, that it is erroneously that 
 certain persons have wished to make of what they 
 call our sentiments and affections, modifications of 
 our being essentially different from those which they 
 name perceptions or ideas, and refuse to compre- 
 hend them under those general denominations of 
 perceptions or ideas : for the quality of being effec- 
 
40 
 
 tive, \vhicli certain of our perceptions have, is but it 
 particular circumstance, an accidental quality, with 
 which all our modifications might be endowed 5 and 
 of which, as we have just seen, all might likewise 
 be deprived. But they would not be the less, as 
 they are in effect perceptions, that is to say things 
 perceived or felt. The proof is that some of these 
 modifications, after having possessed the quality of 
 being effective, lose it by the effect of habit, and 
 others which acquire it through reflection, all with- 
 out ceasing to be perceived, and consequently with- 
 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 an 
 idea being an image. For the idea of upeartree 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 we 
 may regard the words perception and idea as syno- 
 nimous in their most extensive signification, and for 
 the same reasons the words think sm<\feel as equi- 
 valent also when taken in all their generality : For 
 all our thoughts are things felt ; and if they were 
 not felt they would be nothing ; and sensibility is 
 the general phenomenon which 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 Fen- 
 der him a thinking being. 
 
However this may be, none of the animated be- 
 ings which we know, nor ev^n cf those \ve can 
 imagine, are indifferent to all their perceptions. It 
 is always comprised in their sensibility, in their 
 faculty of being affected, of their being so affected 
 as that certain perceptions appear to them what we 
 call 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 be able to see 
 how this faculty produces the ideas of personality 
 and property. 
 
 SECTION SECOND. 
 
 t'rom the faculty of willing arise the ideas of personality and property, 
 
 Every man who pronounces the word 1 (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 giving 
 an account of it, or in explaining it. We will en- 
 deavour to accomplish this by the aid of some very 
 simple reflections. 
 
 It is not our body such as it is to others, and 
 such 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 
 6 
 
self. For we say I have the faculty of walking, 
 of eating, sleeping, of breathing, &c. Thus I or 
 my self, who possess, am a thing distinct from the 
 thing possessed. 
 
 Is it the same with the general faculty of feeling ? 
 At the first glance it appears that the answer must 
 be yes, since I say in the same manner I have the 
 faculty of feeling. Notwithstanding, here we find 
 a great difference if we penetrate further. For if I 
 ask 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 I ask myself how I know 
 that I feel, I am obliged 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 none 
 of them would exist for us, whilst it manifests itself 
 that it is its own principle to itself ; that it is that 
 beyond which we are not able to remount, and 
 which constitutes our existence ; that it is every thing 
 for us; that it is the same thing as ourselves. I feel 
 because I feel : I feel because I exist ; -and 1 do 
 not exist but because I feel. Then my existence 
 and 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. 
 
 If 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 of walking I ought to say the faculty of feeling, 
 which constitutes the moral person who speaks to 
 you kas the property of reacting on his legs in such 
 
a manner that his body walks. And instead of 
 saying I have the faculty of feeling, I ought to say 
 the faculty of feeling which constitutes the moral 
 person who speaks to you exists in the body by 
 which he speaks to you. These modes of expres- 
 sion are odd and unusual I agree, but in my opinion 
 they paint the fact with much truth ; for in all our 
 conversations, as in all our relations, it is always one 
 faculty of feeling which addresses itself to another. 
 
 The self of each of us is therefore for him his 
 proper sensibility, whatsoever be the nature of this 
 sensibility ; or what he calls his mind, if he has a 
 decided opinion of the nature of the principle of this 
 same sensibility. It is so true that it is this that 
 we 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 that 
 it extinguishes or does not extinguish all sentiment. 
 Jt is tlien the sole fact of sensibility which gives us 
 the idea of personality, that is to say which makes 
 us perceive that we are a being, and which consti- 
 tutes for us ourself, our being. 
 
 There is, however, and we have already remark- 
 ed it,* another of our faculties with which we often 
 identify our self, that is our will. We say indif- 
 ferently it depends on me, or it depends on my 
 will 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 a 
 mode of the faculty of feeling ; it is our faculty of 
 feeling so modified as to render it capable to enjoy 
 
 * See vol. 1st. chap. 13th, page 295, second edition. 
 
44 
 
 and to suffer, and to react on our organs. Thus to 
 take the will as the equivalent of self, is to take a 
 part for the whole ; it is to regard as the equivalent 
 of this self the portion of sensibility which consti- 
 tutes all its energy, that from which we can scarce- 
 ly conceive it separated, and without which it would 
 be 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 then 
 well understood and admitted that the self or the 
 moral person of every animated being, conceived as 
 distinct from the organs it causes to move, is either 
 simply the abstract existence which we call the sen- 
 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 little 
 body, subtile, etherial, imperceptible, impalpable, 
 endowed with this sensibility and which is still ve- 
 ry nearly an abstraction. These three suppositions 
 are indifferent for all which is to follow. In all 
 three sensibility is found ; and in all three also it 
 alone 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 to 
 know if this idea of personality, this consciousness 
 of self, would arise in us from our sensibility in 
 the case in which it would not be followed by icill, 
 in the case in which it would be deprived of this 
 mode which causes it to enjoy and suffer, and to re- 
 
act on our organs, which in a word renders it ca- 
 pable of action and of passion. This 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 not 
 then 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 riot have the idea 
 of personality, and that of the existence of its self. 
 It even appears to me probable that it would have 
 the idea of the existence of this splf : for in fact to 
 feel any thing whatever, is to feel its self feeling, 
 it is to know its self feeling : it is to have the pos- 
 sibility of distinguishing self from that 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 
 kind, not knowing any thing else. It would not 
 then properly know itself in the sense we attach to 
 the word to know, which always imports the idea 
 of circumscription and of speciality $ and conse- 
 
 * See vol. 3d, chap. 5, p. 27. 
 
quentiy it would not have the idea of individuality 
 and of personality, in opposition and distinction 
 from other beings as we have it. We may already 
 assure ourselves that this idea, sucli as it is in us 
 and for us, is a creation and an effect of our faculty 
 of willing ; and this explains very clearly why, al- 
 though the sole faculty of feeling simply constitutes 
 and establishes our existence, yet we confound and 
 identify by preference our self with our will. Here 
 I think is a first point elucidated. 
 
 A thing still more certain, perhaps, and which will 
 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 exclusive : 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. Now it can- 
 not be that it exists thus in the head of a being 
 which knows nothing but itself, which does not 
 know that any other beings besides itself exists. If 
 then we should suppose that this being knows 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 we are susceptible of passion and of action. 
 
It is then proved that this idea of property is an ef- 
 fect, a production of our willing faculty. 
 
 But 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 in 
 such a being it arises necessarily and inevitably in 
 all its plenitude ; for as soon as this individual 
 knows accurately itself, or its moral person, and its 
 capacity 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 the 
 organs which it moves, of all their passions and their 
 actions ; for all this finishes and commences with 
 this sel/y exists but by it, is not moved but by its 
 acts, and no other moral person can employ the 
 same instruments nor be affected in the same man- 
 ner by their effects. . The idea of property and of 
 exclusive property arises then necessarily in a sen- 
 sible being from this alone, that it is susceptible of 
 passion and action ; and it rises in such a being be- 
 cause nature has endowed it with an inevitable and 
 inalienable property, that of its individuality. 
 
 It was necessaiy there should be a natural and 
 necessary property, as there exists an artificial and 
 conventional one ; for there can never be any thing 
 in 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 and 
 inevitable effect of denoting the ideas which affect 
 us, they never would have become their artificial 
 
 * See on this subject, vol. 1st. diap. 16th, page 339, second edi- 
 tion, and different psvrts of the 2d and 3d volumes. 
 
48 
 
 and conventional signs. If it were not in nature 
 that every solid body sustained above our heads 
 necessarily sheltered us we should never have had 
 houses made expressly for shelter. In the same 
 manner, if there never had been natural and inevi- 
 table property there never would have been any 
 artificial or conventional. This is universally the 
 case, and we cannot too frequently repeat, man cre- 
 ates nothing, he makes nothing absolutely new or 
 extra- natural, (if we may be allowed the expres- 
 sion) he never does any thing but draw consequen- 
 ces and make combinations from that which already 
 is. It is also as impossible for him to create an idea 
 or a relation which has not its source in nature as 
 to give himself a sense which has no relation with 
 his natural senses. From this it also follows that 
 in every research which concerns man it is necessary 
 to arrive at this first type ; for as long as we do not 
 see the natural model of an artificial institution 
 which we examine we may be sure we have not dis- 
 covered its generation, and consequently we do not 
 tnow it completely. 
 
 This observation will meet with many explica- 
 tions. It appears to me that we have not always 
 paid sufficient attention to it, and that it is for this 
 reason we have often discoursed on the subject 
 which now occupies us in a very useless and vague 
 manner. We have brought property to a solemn 
 trial at bar and exhibited the reasons for and against 
 it as if it depended on us, whether there should or 
 should not be property in this world. But this is 
 entirely to mistake our nature. It seems were we 
 to listen to certain philosophers and legislators that 
 
49 
 
 at a precise instant people have taken into their 
 heads spontaneously, and without cause, to say 
 thine and mine, and that they could and even 
 should have dispensed with it. But the thine and 
 the mine were never invented. They were acknow- 
 ledged the day on which we could say thee and 
 me; 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 experienced 
 impressions, at least the one on which, 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. When afterwards 
 among these resisting beings, consequently other 
 than himself, the feeling and walling being has 
 known that there were some feeling like himself, 
 it has been forced to accord to them a personality 
 other than his own, a se//other than his own and dif- 
 ferent from his own. And it always has been im- 
 possible, as it always will be, that that which is his 
 should not for him be different from that which is 
 theirs. 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 
 but it was necessary first of all to recognize that 
 there is a property, fundamental, anterior and supe- 
 rior to every institution, from which will always 
 arise all the sentiments and dis-sentinients which 
 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 
 7 
 
50 
 
 an individual willing in consequence of his senti 
 merit, and acting in consequence of his will. These, 
 or I am greatly mistaken, are eternal truths, against 
 which will fail all the declamations that have no- 
 thing for their hase 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. 
 
 As 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 which is very good and very useful to 
 propagate, but which is certainly also very badly 
 expressed; 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, such as they are, 
 see your own visage as you see that of others. This 
 cannot be. Without doubt we are able to love ano- 
 ther as much and even more than ourselves, in the 
 sense that we should rather die, bearing with us the 
 hope of preserving his life, than to live and to suffer 
 the grief of losing him. But to love him exactly 
 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.* 
 This has no meaning for beings constituted as we 
 are. It is contrary to the work of our creation, iu 
 what manner soever it has been operated. 
 
 * It is in consequence of a confused notion of this truth that people 
 have never imagined expressions more tender, than to call one my 
 life, my heart, my soul,- it is as though one should call him myself. 
 There is always something hyperbolical in these expressions. 
 
m 
 
 1 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, both 
 for its form and substance. It is also as conforma- 
 ble to our nature as the other is repugnant to it ; and 
 it enounces perfectly a very profound truth. Effec- 
 tively sentiments of benevolence being for us, un- 
 der every imaginable relation, the source of all our 
 good of every kind, and the universal means of di- 
 minishing and remedying all our evils as much as 
 possible, 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, to 
 which nearly the same meaning has been commonly 
 attributed; but it will be wrong. It is so different 
 to present to men as a rule of their conduct a general 
 principle, drawn from the recesses of their nature, ov 
 one repugnant to it, and it leads to consequences' 
 so distant among themselves, that one must never 
 have reflected on it at all not to have perceived all 
 its importance. To myself it appears such, that 1 
 cannot conceive that two maxims so dissimilar 
 should have emanated from the same source ;* f 
 
 * I conclude from hence that the expression of the one or the other 
 of these precepts, and perhaps of both, has been altered by men, who 
 did not really understand either. I shall often have occasion to make 
 reflections of this kind, because they are applicable to many of these 
 maxims which pass from age to age. 
 
 fThe first is from Leviticus, chap. xix. The other is from the gos- 
 pel of St. John, chap. xiii. See the remark in the questions on the mi- 
 racles, Voltaire vol. 60, page 186. You will be astonished to see 
 that Voltaire considered these two maxims as identical. 
 
for the erne manifests to me the most profound igno- 
 rance, and the other the most profound knowledge of 
 human nature. One would lead us to compose the 
 romance of man, and the other his history. The 
 one consecrates the existence of natural property, 
 resulting from individuality, and the other seems to 
 disregard it, [la meconnaitre.] Perhaps it may he 
 wondered that I should treat at the same time the 
 question of the property of all our riches, and that 
 of all our sentiments, and thus mingle economy and 
 morality; but, when we penetrate to their funda- 
 mental basis, it does not appear to me possible to 
 separate either these two orders of things or their 
 study. In proportion as we advance, the objects 
 separate and subdivide themselves, and it becomes 
 necessary to examine them separately ; but in thei* 
 principles they are intimately united. We should 
 not have the property of any of our goods whatso- 
 ever if we had not that of our wants, which is no- 
 thing but that of our sentiments; and all these pro- 
 perties are inevitably derived from the sentiment of 
 personality, from the consciousness of our self. 
 
 It is then quite as useless to the purpose of moral, 
 ity or economy, to discuss whether it would not be 
 better that nothing should appertain exclusively to 
 each one of us, as it would be to the purpose of 
 grammar to enquire whether it would not be more 
 advantageous that our actions should not be the 
 signs of the ideas and the sentiments which pro- 
 duce them. In every case it would be to ask 
 whether it would not be desirable that we should 
 be quite different from what we are; and in- 
 deed it would be to enquire, whether it would pot 
 
53 
 
 be better that we did not exist at all ; for these con- 
 ditions being changed our existence would not be 
 conceivable. It would not be altered, it would be 
 annihilated. 
 
 It remains therefore certain that the thine and the 
 mine are necessarily established amongst men; 
 from this alone, that they are individuals feeling, 
 willing, and acting distinctly the one from the other, 
 that they have each one the inalienable, incommuta- 
 ble, and inevitable property, in their individuality 
 and its faculties 5 and that consequently the idea of 
 property is the necessary result, if not of the sole 
 phenomenon of pure sensibility, at least of that of 
 sensibility united to the will. Thus we have found 
 how the sentiment of personality or the idea of self, 
 and that of property which flows from it necessarily, 
 are derived from our faculty of willing. Now we 
 may enquire with success, how this same faculty 
 produces all our ivants and all our means. 
 
 SECTION THIRD. 
 
 From the faculty of willing arise all our ivants and all our means. 
 
 If we had not the idea of personality, and that of 
 property, that is to say the consciousness of our self, 
 and that of the possession of its modifications, we 
 should certainly never have either wants or means ; 
 for to whom would appertain this suffering and this 
 power. We should not exist for ourselves ; but as 
 soon as we recognize ourselves as possessors of our 
 existence, and of its modes, we are necessarily by 
 
54. 
 
 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 this faculty, from the propensity 
 the most instinctive to the determination the most 
 studied ; and I request then that it may be recollect- 
 ed that it is solely because we perform such acts 
 that we have the ideas of personality and of proper- 
 ty. Now every desire is a want, and all 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 wants, and which constitute 
 all our wants. This will appear very clearly. 
 
 In the first place every desire is a want. This 
 is not doubtful, since a sensible being, who desires 
 any thing whatsoever, has from this circumstance 
 alone a want to possess the thing desired, or rather, 
 and more generally we may say, that he experien- 
 ces the want of the cessation of his desire ; for eve- 
 ry desire is in itself a suffering as long as it con- 
 tinues. It does not become an enjoyment but when 
 it is satisfied, that is to say when it ceases. 
 
 It is difficult at first to believe 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. The desire of eating for example, that of 
 the physical pleasures of love, are generally in an 
 individual the results of a state of health, of which 
 he has a consciousness that is agreeable to him. 
 Many others are in the same case ; but this circum- 
 stance must not deceive us. These 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 alter 
 them; but which must not be confounded with them 
 which consequently it is necessary well to distinguish 
 from desire in itself. For first, they do not always 
 co-exist with it. We have often the want of eating, 
 and even a violent inclination to the act of reproduc- 
 tion, in consequence of sickly dispositions, and with- 
 out any sentiment of well being ; and it is the same of 
 other examples which might be chosen. Secondly, 
 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 desire ; and that that of desire is 
 always in itself a torment, a painful sentiment as 
 long as it continues. The proof is, that it is always 
 the desire of being delivered from that state, what- 
 soever it is, in which we actually are; which conse- 
 quently appears actually a state of uneasiness, more 
 or less* displeasing. Now 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 
 who experiences it : a desire then is always a suf- 
 fering either light or profound, according to its force, 
 and consequently a want of some kind. It is not 
 
 * See logic, vol. 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 just 
 sentiment of our true interest ; for, whether well or 
 ill founded, while it exists it is a manner of being 
 felt and incommodious, and from which we have con- 
 sequently a want of being delivered. Thus every 
 desire is a want. 
 
 But moreover all .our wants, from the most pure 
 ly mechanical to the most spiritualized, are but the 
 want of satisfying a desire. Hunger is but a desire 
 of eating, or at least of relief from the state of lan- 
 gour which we experience; as the want, the thirst 
 of riches, or that of glory, is but the desire of posses- 
 sing these advantages, and of avoiding indigence or 
 obscurity. 
 
 It is true, however, that if we experience desires 
 without 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. Thus for example, 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 
 which it will result that I shall have a fever this 
 evening ; 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, when I shall suffer 
 the anguish of it, and because I shall suffer the an- 
 guish of it ; for if the fever were not of a nature to 
 
57 
 
 produce in rne, for some reason or other, the desire 
 of its cessation, when I should be aware of its prox- 
 imate or remote effects, I should not have in any 
 manner the want of causing it to cease. We may 
 absolutely say the same things of all the combina- 
 tions, which take place in the physical or moral or- 
 der, without our being aware of, or without our 
 foreseeing, the consequences. If then it be true, as 
 we have seen, that every desire is a want, it is not 
 less so that every actual want is a desire. Thus 
 we may lay it down as a general thesis, that our 
 desires are the source of all our wants, none of 
 which would exist without them. For we cannot 
 too often repeat it, we should be really impassive if 
 we had no desires ; and if we were impassive we 
 should have no wants, I must not be reproached 
 with having taken time for this explication ; we can- 
 not proceed too slowly at first : and if I overleap no 
 intermediate proofs, I omit nevertheless, many ac- 
 cessaries, at least all those which are not indispen- 
 sable. 
 
 A first property then of our desires is now well 
 explained ; and it is the only one they have, so long 
 as our sensitive system acts and re-acts only on it- 
 self. But so soon as it re-acts on our muscular sys- 
 tem, the sentiment of willing acquires a second pro- 
 perty very different from the first, and which is not 
 less important. It is that of directing all our actions, 
 and by this of being the source of all our means? 
 
 When I say that our desires direct all our actions ; 
 it is not that many movements are not operated 
 within us, which the sentiment of willing does not 
 8 
 
58 
 
 in any manner precede, and which consequently are 
 not the effect of any desire. Of this number are 
 particularly all those which are necessary to the 
 commencement, maintenance and continuation of 
 our life. But first it is permitted to doubt whether 
 at first, anl 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 w r ill more 
 or 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 of 
 perceptible will, or from its sentiment of desiring 
 and willing. These 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, varying, succouring, defending, amelio- 
 rating it, &c. They cannot therefore properly be 
 placed in the rank of our means, unless we mean to 
 say that our existence itself is our first mean, which 
 is very true but very insignificant ; for it is the da- 
 tum without which we should have nothing to say, 
 and certainly should say nothing. Thus 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- 
 uutary also, which are more rare, less regular, and 
 which depend more or less on a convulsive and 
 sickly 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. Often 
 even they have grievous and pernicious effects for 
 us, and which take place although foreseen, and con- 
 trary to our desires. Their independence of our 
 will then does not prevent our general observation 
 from being just. Thus, putting aside these two 
 species of involuntary movements, we may say with 
 truth, that our desires have the effect eminently re- 
 markable of directing all our actions, at least all 
 those that really merit this name, and which are for 
 us the means of procuring enjoyments or knowledge, 
 which knowledge is also an enjoyment; since these 
 are 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, and 
 even the most important of all, since they direct the 
 employment of all the others. 
 
 Now to complete the proof that the acts of our 
 will 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 we 
 have of supplying our wants, or otherwise satisfy- 
 ing our desires ; that is to say, that our physical and 
 
60 
 
 moral 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 employments 
 of our faculties, and to have seen their effect in the 
 formation of all that we call our riches of every kind. 
 Now it is this we have not yet been able to do, and 
 which we will do in the sequel: it will even be a 
 considerable 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 ephemeral insect, has 
 given him nothing as his own but his individual 
 and personal faculties, as well physical as intellec- 
 tual. This is his sole endowment, his only original 
 wealth, and the only source of all which he procures 
 for himself. In effect, if even we should admit that 
 all those beings, by which we are surrounded, have 
 been created for us; (and assuredly 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 employment 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 we pur- 
 sue it. A lake, a river, furnish us no nourishment, 
 but because we fish therein. Wood or any other 
 spontaneous production of nature is of no use what- 
 ever, until we have fashioned it, or at least gathered 
 
61 
 
 it. To put an extreme case, were we to suppose an 
 alimentary matter to have fallen into our mouths rea- 
 dy prepared, still it would be necessary, in order to 
 assimilate it to our substance, that we should mas- 
 ticate, swallow and digest it. Now all these oper- 
 ations are so many employments of our individual 
 force. Certainly 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 members 
 and 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 admirable La 
 Fontaine, that labour is a treasure; but even that 
 labour is our only treasure, and this treasure is very 
 great because it surpasses all our wants. The 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, taken in mass, are 
 always sufficient although often and even always 
 very badly husbanded. 
 
 We shall soon see all this with greater develope- 
 ments, 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 who is endowed with 
 it, and who directs it by his will, is the source of all 
 property. But from this time I think we may safe- 
 ly conclude, that in the employment of our faculties, 
 in our voluntary actions, consists all the power 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 constitute 
 all our wants. Thus this fourth faculty, and last 
 mode of our sensibility, to which we owe the com- 
 plete ideas of personality and property, is that which 
 renders us proprietors of wants and means, of passion 
 and of action, of suffering and of power. From these 
 ideas arise those of riches and poverty. 
 
 Before proceeding further let us see in what these 
 last consist. 
 
 SECTION FOURTH. 
 
 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. And if we 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 kind ; and if 
 we had neither wants nor desires, which are the 
 same things, we should have neither the possession 
 nor the privation of the means of satisfying them. 
 
 To take these things in this generality, we per- 
 ceive plainly 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 of 
 eatables, or a habitation. The knowledge 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 far 
 the 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 will, 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. 
 
 We call all these goods ; for by contraction we 
 give the name of goods to all those things that 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 Now whence come all those goods? We 
 have already summarily seen, and we shall see it 
 more in detail in the sequel. It is from the just, 
 that is to say from the legitimate, employment, 
 according to the laws of nature, which we make 
 of our faculties. We do not often find a diamond, 
 but because we search for it with intelligence ; we 
 have not a mass of metal, but because w r e have stu- 
 died the means of procuring it. We 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. 
 
We have no provision whatsoever, or even a shelter, 
 but because we have simplified the operations neces- 
 sary for forming the one, or for constructing the 
 other. It is then always from the employment of 
 our faculties that all these goods arise. 
 
 N ow all these goods have amongst us, to a certain 
 point, a value determinate and fixed. They even 
 have always two. The one is that of the sacrifices 
 which their acquisition costs us ; the other that of 
 the advantages which their possession procures us. 
 When 1 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 which 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 will, I make 
 a bad bargain, I lose more than I gain, I relinquish 
 more than I acquire. This is evident. In the ac- 
 quisition of any other good than an instrument of 
 labour, the thing is not so clear. However, 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 goods 
 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 ; 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 which 
 they emanate. Labour itself then has a value ; it 
 has then even two different ones, for no being can 
 communicate a property which it has not. Yes la- 
 bour has these two values, the one natural and ne- 
 cessary, the other more or less conventional and 
 eventual. This will be seen very clearly. 
 
 An animated being, that is to say sensible and 
 willing, has wants unceasingly reproduced, to the 
 satisfaction of which is attached the continuation of 
 his existence. He cannot provide for them but by 
 the employment of his faculties, of his means ; and if 
 this employment (his labour) should cease during a 
 certain time to meet these wants, his existence 
 would end. The mass of these wants, is then the 
 natural and necessary measure of the mass of la- 
 bour which he can perform W 7 hilst they cause them- 
 selves to be felt ; for if he employs this mass of la- 
 bour for his direct and immediate use it must suffice 
 for his service. If he consecrates it to another, this 
 other must at least do for him, during this time, 
 what he would have done for himself. ^If he em- 
 ploys it on objects of an utility less immediate and 
 more remote, this utility, when realised, must at 
 least replace the objects of an urgent utility, which 
 he will have consumed whilst he ^vas occupied with 
 those less necessary. Thus 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. This value is that which 
 9 
 
66 
 
 the labour inevitably costs. Tbis is 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 eventual : It is often 
 conventional and always more variable than the 
 first. It is eventual, for no man in commencing any 
 labour whatever, even when it is for his own ac- 
 count, can entirely assure himself of its product ; a 
 thousand circumstances, which do not depend on 
 him and which often he cannot foresee, augment or 
 diminish this product. It is often conventional ; 
 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 shall 
 have agreed to give him in return for his pains, 
 whether the convention were made before the exe- 
 cution of the labour, as with day labourers or hire- 
 lings, or does not take place until after the labour 
 has been perfected, as with merchants and manufac- 
 turers. Finally 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 develope. 
 
 But even the natural value of labour is not of an 
 absolute fixture : for first the wants of a man in a 
 given 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 
 tkege wants are restrained or extended considerably 
 
67 
 
 by the empire of will and the effect of habit. Se- 
 condly, 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 labour, while in less happy circumstances, 
 under an inclement sky, on a sterile soil, greater ef- 
 forts will be requisite to provide for them. Thus, ac- 
 cording to the case, the labour of the same man, 
 during the same time, must procure him a greater or 
 smaller number of objects, or of objects more or less 
 difficult to be acquired, solely that he may continue 
 io exist. 
 
 By this small number of general reflection s 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. We 
 call these means goods, because they do us good. 
 They are all the product and the representation of a 
 certain quantity of labour ; 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 the 
 goods which they cost and that of the goods which 
 they produce. Since these goods are but the repre- 
 sentation of the labour which has produced them, it 
 is then from labour they derive these two values. 
 It has them then itself. In effect labour has neces- 
 sarily these two values. The second is eventual, 
 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. 
 
Such is the connexion of general ideas, which ne- 
 cessarily follow one another on the first inspection 
 of this subject. It shows us the application and the 
 proof of several great truths previously established. 
 In the first place we see that we never create any 
 thing absolutely new and extra-natural. Thus, 
 since we have the idea of value, and since artificial 
 and conventional values exist among us, it was ne- 
 cessary there should be somewhere a natural and 
 necessary value. Thus the labour, from whence all 
 our goods emanate, has a value of this kind, and 
 communicates it to them. This value is that of the 
 objects necessary to the satisfaction of the wants, 
 which inevitably arise in an animated being during 
 the continuance of his labour. 
 
 Secondly, we have seen further, that to measure 
 any quantity whatsoever, is always to compare it 
 with a quantity of the same species, and that it is 
 absolutely necessary that this quantity should be of 
 the same species, without which it could not serve 
 as an unit and a term of comparison.* Thus, 
 when we say that the natural and necessary value of 
 the labor which an animated being performs during 
 a given time is measured by the indispensable wants 
 which arise in this being during the same time, we 
 give really for the measure of this value the value 
 of a certain quantity of labour ; for the goods ne- 
 cessary to the satisfaction of these wants, do not 
 themselves derive their natural and necessary va- 
 lue but from the labour which their acquisition has 
 cost. Thus labour, our only original good, is only 
 
 * See vol. 1st, chap. 10th, page 187, and following 2d edition : 
 and vol. 3d, chap. 9th, page 463. 
 
69 
 
 valued by itself, and the unit is of the same kind as 
 the quantities calculated. 
 
 Thirdly, in fine we have seen that, for a calcula- 
 tion to be just and certain, the unit must be deter- 
 mined in a manner the most rigorous, and absolute- 
 ly invariable.! Here unhappily 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 and his suppleness. We must ne- 
 ver dissemble this evil. It was essential to recog- 
 nize it. But it ought not to prevent us from making 
 combinations of the effects of our faculties, in taking 
 the necessary precautions ; for since the variations of 
 our sensible nature are comprehended within 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 calculation of all 
 moral and economical quantities, how much precau- 
 tion it requires, and how imprudent it is to wish to 
 apply to it indiscreetly the rigorous scale of num- 
 bers. However it be, as this rapid glance on the 
 ideas of riches and poverty, derived from the senti- 
 ment of our wants, leads us to speak summarily of 
 all our goods, we ought not to pass in silence the 
 greatest of all, that which comprehends them all, 
 without which none of them would exist, which we . 
 may call the only good, of a willing being, Liberty. 
 It merits a separate article. 
 
 (f) See vol. 3d, chap. 9th, page 500, and following-. 
 
70 
 
 SECTION FIFTH. 
 
 From the faculty of willing arise likewise the ideas of liberty and 
 constraint. 
 
 Nothing would be mere easy than to inspire some 
 interest in all generous souls, by commencing this 
 chapter 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 electrize 
 one's self, or to excite the feelings of those whom 
 we address. Now a man who sincerely devotes 
 himself to the search of truth, is sufficiently animat- 
 ed by the end he proposes, and counts on the same 
 disposition in all those by whom he wishes to be 
 read. The love of what is good and true is a real 
 passion. This passion is I believe sufficiently novel, 
 at least it seems to me that it could not exist in all 
 its 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 in 
 which we live is not rare, whatever may be said of 
 it, and it is as energetic and more constant than any 
 other. 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 acting 
 conformably with our desire. And I maintain, that 
 
71 
 
 it is impossible to attach any clear idea to this word 
 when we give it another signification. Thus there 
 would be no liberty were there no will; and liberty 
 cannot exist before the birth of will. It is then 
 real nonsense, to pretend that the will is free to ex- 
 ist or not.* And such were almost all the famous 
 decisions, which subjugated the mind before the 
 birth of the true study of the human understanding. 
 Accordingly the consequences which were drawn 
 from these pretended principles, and especially 
 from this one, were for the most part completely ab- 
 surd. But this is not the time to occupy ourselves 
 with them. 
 
 Without doubt, we cannot too often repeat it, a 
 sensible being cannot will without a motive, he can- 
 not will but in virtue of the manner in which he is 
 affected. Thus his will follows from his anterior 
 impressions, quite as necessarily as every effect fol- 
 lows the cause which has the properties necessary 
 for producing it. This necessity is neither a good 
 nor an evil for a sensible being. It is the conse-- 
 quence of his nature ; it is the condition of his exis- 
 tence ; it is the datum which he cannot change, and 
 from which he should always set out in all his 
 speculations. 
 
 But when a will is produced in an animated be- 
 ing, when he has conceived any determination 
 whatsoever, this sentiment of willing, which is 
 always a suffering, as long as it is not satisfied, has 
 in recompense the admirable property of reacting on 
 the organs, of regulating the greater part of their 
 movements, of directing the employment of almost 
 
 * See vol. 1st, chap. 13th, page 269, 2d edition. 
 
all the faculties, and thereby of creating all the 
 means of enjoyment and power of the sensible being, 
 when no extraneous force restrains him, that is to 
 say when the willing being; is free. 
 
 V C? / 
 
 Liberty, taken in this its most general sense, (and 
 the only reasonable one) signifying the power of 
 executing our will, is then the remedy of all our ills, 
 the accomplishment of all our desires, the satisfac- 
 tion of all our wants, and consequently the first of 
 all our goods, that which 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 power 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 
 always the contrariety of a desire. We 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 evil 
 principle. 
 
 The 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. That 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. The one and 
 the other, according to circumstances, may be insur- 
 mountable, or may be susceptible of yielding to our 
 efforts. 
 
 In all of these different cases, we have different 
 methods of conducting ourselves, to escape from the 
 suffering of constraint, to effect the accomplishment 
 of our desires, in a word to arrive at satisfaction, at 
 happiness. For once again t say these three things 
 are one and the same Of these different methods 
 of arriving at the only end of all our efforts as of all 
 our desires, of all our wants, as of all our means, we 
 should always take those which are most capable of 
 conducting us to it. This is likewise our only duty, 
 that which comprehends all others. The mean of 
 fulfilling this only duty, is in the first place, if our 
 desires 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 our 
 desires cannot be accomplished, but by submitting 
 to other evils, that is to say by renouncing other 
 things, which we desire, to balance the inconve- 
 niences, and decide for the least ; thirdly, if the 
 success of our desires is entirely impossible, we 
 must renounce them, and withdraw without mur- 
 muring within the limits of our power. Thus all 
 is reduced to the employment of our intellectual 
 faculties : First, in properly estimating our wants, 
 then in extending our means, as far as possible ; final- 
 ly in submitting to the necessity of our nature, to 
 the invincible condition of our existence. 
 10 
 
Butf I perceive that I have mentioned the word 
 duty. The idea which this word expresses well 
 merits a separate chapter. It is sufficient in this to 
 have terminated the examination of all our goods, by 
 showing that since all our means of happiness con- 
 sist in the voluntary employment of our faculties, 
 Liberty, the power of acting according to our will, 
 includes all our goods, is our only good, and that 
 our only duty is to encrease this power, and to use 
 it well, that is to say so to use it as not ultimately 
 to cramp and restrain it. 
 
 Would it be desired, before quitting this subject, 
 to apply to this first of all goods, Liberty, the idea 
 of value, which we have seen arise necessarily from 
 the idea of good? And would it be asked, what is 
 the value of liberty ? It is evident that the sum of 
 the liberty of a being feeling and willing, being the 
 power of using his faculties according to his will, the 
 entire value of this liberty is equal to the entire value 
 of the employment of the faculties of this being ; 
 that if from this sum of liberty a portion only be de- 
 tracted, the value of the portion detracted is equal 
 to the value of the faculties, from the exercise of 
 which he is debarred, and that the value of that which 
 remains to him is the same with that of the faculties, 
 the use of which he still preserves ; and, finally, it 
 is also manifest that, however feeble the faculties of 
 an animated being, the absolute loss of his liberty is 
 for him a loss truly infinite, and one to which he can- 
 not set any price, since it is absolutely every thing 
 for him, it is the extinction of every possibility of 
 happiness 5 it is the loss of the gum total of his 
 
75 
 
 being; it can admit of no compensation, and deprives 
 him of the disposal of what he might receive in 
 return. 
 
 These general notions suffice for the moment. I 
 will add but one reflection. It is commonly said 
 that man, entering a state of society, sacrifices a 
 portion of his liberty to secure the remainder. Af- 
 ter what we have just said, this expression is not 
 exact. It does not give a just idea either of the 
 cause or of the effect, nor even of the origin of human 
 societies. In the first place, man never lives com- 
 pletely insulated ; he cannot exist thus, at least in 
 his first infancy. Thus the state of society does not 
 commence for him on a fixed day, or from premeditated 
 <lesign ; it is established insensibly, and by degrees. 
 Secondly, man in associating himself more and more^ 
 with 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 liberty, or on weakening the total power of 
 executing his will, which he previously had. He 
 has always in view its increase* If he renounces 
 certain modes of employing it, it is that he may be 
 assisted, or at least not opposed, in other uses which 
 he may wish to make of it, and which he judges 
 more important to him. He consents that his will 
 should be a little restrained, in certain cases, by that 
 of his fellow beings : but it is that it may be much 
 more powerful over all other beings, and even on 
 these themselves on other occasions, so that the total 
 mass of power, or of liberty, which he possesses 
 should be thereby augmented. This I think is the 
 idea which should be formed of the effect and the 
 
76 
 
 cud of the gradual establishment of the social state. 
 Whenever it does not produce this result, it does not 
 attain its destination : but it attains it always in a 
 greater or less degree, notwithstanding its universal 
 and enormous imperfections. We will elsewhere 
 develope the consequences of these observations. 
 Now let us go on to the examination of the idea of 
 duty. 
 
 SECTION SIXTH. 
 
 Finally, from the faculty of willing arise the ideas of rights and ofdutiet. 
 
 The ideas of rights and of duties are, by some, 
 said to be correspondent and correlative. I do not 
 deny them to be so, in our social relations ; but this 
 truth, if it is one, requires many explanations. Let 
 us examine different cases. 
 
 Let us make in the first place a supposition abso- 
 lutely ideal. Let us imagine a being feeling and 
 willing, but incapable of all action, a simple monad, 
 endowed with the faculty of willing, but deprived of 
 a body, and of every organ on which its will can re- 
 act, and by which it could produce any effect, or 
 have influence on any other being. It is manifest 
 that such a being would have no right, in the sense 
 we often give to this word, that is to say none of those 
 rights which comprehend the idea of a correspondent 
 duty in another sensible being, since it is not in con- 
 tact with any being whatsoever. But to the eyes of 
 reason and of universal justice, such as the human 
 
77 
 
 mid erstanding can conceive them,, (for we can never 
 speak of other things) this monad has clearly the 
 right to satisfy his desires and to appease his wants; 
 for this violates no law, natural or artificial. It is, on 
 the contrary, to follow the laws of his nature and to 
 obey the conditions of his existence. 
 
 At the same time this monad, having no power of 
 action, no means of laboring for the satisfaction of his 
 wants, has no duty : for it could not have the duty 
 of employing in one way rather than another the 
 means which it has not, of performing one action 
 rather than another, since it cannot perform any 
 action. 
 
 This supposition then shows us two things ; first, 
 as we have already said, that all our rights arise from 
 wants, and all duties from means ; secondly, that 
 Fights may exist, in the most general sense of this 
 word, without correspondent duties on the part of 
 other beings, nor even on the part of the being pos- 
 sessing these rights : Consequently these two ideas 
 are not as essentially and necessarily correspondent, 
 and correlative, as is commonly believed ; for they 
 are not so in their origin. Now let us state another 
 hypothesis. 
 
 Let us suppovse a being feeling and willing, consti 
 tuted as we are, that is to say endowed with organs 
 and faculties which his will puts in action, but com- 
 pletely separated from every other sensible being, 
 and in contact only with inanimate beings, if there 
 be such, or at least only with beings which should not 
 manifest to him the phenomenon of sentiment, as there- 
 are many such for us. In this state this being still 
 has not those rights, taken in the restrained sense, of 
 
this word, which embrace the idea of a correspon- 
 dent duty in another sensible being, since he is not 
 in relation with any being of this kind; yet he has 
 clearly the general right, like the monad of which 
 we have just spoken, of procuring for himself the ac- 
 complishment of his desires, or, which is the same 
 thing, of providing for his wants ; because this is for 
 him, as for it, to obey the laws of his nature, and to 
 conform himself to the condition of his existence; 
 and this being is such that it cannot be moved by any 
 other impulsion, nor have any other principle of 
 action. This willing being has then, in this case, 
 all imaginable rights. We may even see that his 
 rights are truly infinite, since they are bounded by 
 nothing. At least they have no limits but those of 
 his desires themselves, from which these emanate^ 
 and which are their only source. 
 
 But here there is something more than in the first 
 hypothesis. This being, endowed like ourselves 
 with organs and faculties which his will puts into 
 motion, is not as the simple monad of which we 
 spoke before. He has means, therefore he has du- 
 ties ; for he has the duty of well employing these 
 means. But every duty supposes a punishment in- 
 curred by an infraction of it, a law which pronounces 
 this punishment, a tribunal which applies this law t 
 accordingly in the case in question the punishment 
 of the being of which we speak, for not rightly em- 
 ploying his means, is to see them produce effects 
 less favorable to his satisfaction, or even to see them 
 produce such as are entirely destructive of it. The 
 laws which pronounce this punishment, are those of 
 the organization of this willing and acting being : 
 
79 
 
 they are the conditions of his existence. The tri- 
 bunal which applies these laws is that of necessity 
 itself, against which he cannot guard himself. Thus 
 the being which occupies us has, incontestably, the 
 duty of well employing his means, since he has them; 
 and of observing that this general duty comprehends 
 that of well appreciating, in the first place, the desires 
 or wants which these means are destined to satisfy, 
 of well studying afterwards these means themselves, 
 their extent and their limits, and, finally, of labour- 
 ing in consequence to restrain the one and extend the 
 other as much as possible : for his unhappiness will 
 never proceed but from the inferiority of means rela- 
 tively to wants, since if wants were always satisfied 
 there would be no possibility of suffering. The in- 
 sulated being in question, has then rights proceeding 
 all from his wants, and duties arising all out of his 
 means ; and, in whatever position you place him, he 
 will never have rights or duties of another nature : 
 for all those of which he may become susceptible 
 will arise from these, and will only be their conse- 
 quences. We may even say that all proceed from 
 his wants, for if he had not wants he would not need 
 means to satisfy them ; it would not even be possible 
 he should have any means. Thus it would not be 
 conceivable that he could have any duty whatsoever. 
 If you wish to convince yourself of this, try to punish 
 an impassive being. I have then had reason to say, 
 that from the willing faculty arise the ideas of rights 
 and of duties ; and I can add, with assurance, that 
 these ideas of rights and duties are not so exactly 
 correspondent, and correlative, the one with the other, 
 as they are commonly said to be : but that that of 
 
80 
 
 duties is subordinate to that of rights, as that of 
 means is to that of wants, since we can conceive 
 rights without duties, as in our first hypothesis ; and 
 in the second there are duties only because tiiere are 
 wants, and that they consist only in the general du- 
 ty of satisfying these wants. 
 
 The better to convince ourselves of these two 
 truths, let us make a third supposition: let us place 
 this being, organised as we are in relation with other 
 beings, feeling and willing like himself, and acting 
 also in virtue of their will, but which are such that 
 he cannot correspond fully with them, nor perfectly 
 comprehend their ideas and their motives. These 
 animatetl beings have their rights also, proceeding 
 from their wants : but this operates no change in 
 those of the being whose destiny we investigate. He 
 has the same rights as before, since he has the same 
 wants. He has, moreover, the same general duty 
 of employing his means so as to procure the satisfac- 
 tion of his wants. Thus 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 in 
 consequence of their will it is his duty to conciliate 
 or subjugate that will in order to bring them to 
 contribute to the satisfaction of his desires, and as he 
 is supposed incapable of communicating completely 
 with them, and consequently of forming any conven- 
 tion with them, he has no other means of directing 
 their will towards the accomplishment of his desires, 
 and the satisfaction of his wants, than immediate per- 
 suasion or direct violence. And he employs, and 
 ought to employ, the one and the other according to 
 
circumstances, without any other consideration than 
 of producing the effects he desires. 
 
 In truth this being, organized as we are, is such, 
 that a view of sensible nature inspires in him the 
 desire to sympathize with it, that it should enjoy of 
 his enjoyments and suffer of his sufferings. This 
 is a new want which it produces in him, and we 
 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. He ought then 
 to satisfy it as the others, and consequently he is 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 of 
 satisfying all his desires. 
 
 The picture which we have 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 knowledge we have of their sentiments, 
 and according to the relations of habit and reciprocal 
 benevolence which 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 
 relations ; for it is equally remote from that sentimen- 
 tal exaggeration which would make criminal in us 
 any destruction whatever of these animals, 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. 
 11 
 
82 
 
 In fact these two systems are equally false. The 
 first is untenable, because in practice it is absolutely 
 impossible to follow it rigorously. It is evident that 
 we should be violently destroyed, or slowly famish- 
 ed arid eaten, by the other animated beings if we 
 never destroyed them; and that even with the most 
 minute attention it is impossible for us to avoid 
 causing a great number of beings, more or less per- 
 cepiible to our senses, to suffer and die. Now we 
 have incontestably the right to act and to live, since 
 we are born for the one as well as for the other. 
 
 The second system is not less erroneous, for in 
 . theory it rashly establishes between the different 
 states of sensible nature a line of separation which 
 no phenomenon authorizes us to admit. There is 
 absolutely no one fact which gives us a right to af- 
 firm, nor even to suppose that the state of suffering 
 in the animated beings with which we communicate 
 imperfectly, is not exactly the same thing as it is ia_ 
 us or in our fellow beings ;* and on this gratuitous 
 supposition, this system condemns us to combat and 
 destroy as a weakness the sentiment, the want the 
 most general and imperious of human nature, that 
 of sympathy and commiseration ; a want which we 
 shall soon see is the most happy result of our organ- 
 ization, and without which our existence would be- 
 come very miserable, and even impossible. More- 
 over, in practice this system is opposed to the usage 
 the most universal of all times and of all individuals ; 
 for there has never been, 1 believe, an animal in the 
 human form, which has sincerely and originally felt 
 
 i 
 
 4 Always perhnps with a degree of energy proportionate to the per- 
 ftttion of the organization. 
 
88 
 
 that a sight of suffering, accurately expressed, was a 
 thing of indifference. The indifference which is the 
 fruit of habit, and the pleasure even of cruelty, for 
 cruelty sake, a frightful pleasure, which may have 
 been produced in some denaturalized beings by ac- 
 cidental causes, proves that it is the case of a natural 
 inclination surmounted by time, or overcome by ef- 
 fort, and by the pleasure which arises in us from 
 every effort followed by success. As to that cruel- 
 ty which is the product of vengeance, it is a proof 
 the more of the thesis I sustain; for it is because of 
 the profound sentiment that the vindictive being has 
 of suffering, that he wishes to produce it in the one 
 that is odious to him, and he always partakes more 
 or less involuntarily and forcibly of the evil which 
 he causes. 
 
 These two opposite systems, but both fruits of a 
 derangement of the imagination, are then equally ab- 
 surd in theory and practice ; this, of itself, is a great 
 presumption in favour of the intermediate opinion 
 w- ich I establish, which moreover is found to be 
 conformable to the usage of all times and all places, 
 and to furnish reason from the conditions of our na- 
 ture, well observed, for what our manner of being, in 
 respect to the animals, has in it singular and contra- 
 dictory at the first glance. But what is more forcible, 
 and absolutely convincing, in my opinion, is that the 
 same principle which I have established, that our 
 rights are always without limits, or at least equal to 
 our wants, and that our duties are never but the ^en- 
 rol duty of satisfying our wants, will explain to us all 
 our relations with our fellow beings, and establish 
 them on immoveable bases, and such as will be the 
 same everywhere, and always, in all countries, and 
 
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 all placed. Let us suppose the ani- 
 mated being we are now considering in contact with 
 other beings like himself. These beings have wants, 
 and consequently rights, as he has, but this makes 
 no change in his. He has always as many rights 
 as wants, and the general duty of satisfying these 
 wants. If he could not communicate completely 
 with these beings like himself, and make conven- 
 tions with them, he would be in respect to them in 
 the state in which we all are, and in which as we 
 have just seen we have reason to be in regard to the 
 other animals. 
 
 Will any one say this is a state of war? He will 
 be wrong. This would be an exaggeration. The 
 state of war is that in which we incessantly seek the 
 destruction of one another; because we cannot as- 
 sure ourselves of our own preservation, but by the 
 annihilation of our enemy. We are not in such a 
 relation, but with those animals whose instinct con- 
 stantly leads them to hurt us. It is not so as to the 
 others ; even those which we sacrifice to our wants, 
 we attack only inasmuch as these wants, more or less 
 pressing, force us. There are some of them which 
 live with us in a state of peaceable subjection, others 
 in perfect indifference. With all we wound their 
 will only because it is contrary to ours, and not for 
 the pleasure of wounding it. There is even in regard 
 to all this general necessity of sympathising with 
 sensible nature, which pains us at the sight of their 
 suffering, and which unites us more or less with them. 
 
85 
 
 This state then is not essentially a state of hostility. 
 It frequently becomes such ; but this is by accident. 
 It is essentially the state of alienage (d'etrangete) 
 if we may thus express ourselves. It is that of be- 
 ings, willing and acting separately, each for his own 
 satisfaction, without being able to explain themselves 
 mutually, or to make conventions for the regulation 
 of the cases in which their wills are opposed. 
 
 Such, as we have said, would be the relations of 
 man with his fellow men, if his means of communi- 
 cating with them were very imperfect. He would 
 not 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 his 
 own species; and we must still add to this necessity 
 that of love, which strengthens it extremely in many 
 circumstances, for love has not perfect enjoyment 
 without mutual consent, without a very lively sym- 
 pathy ; and when this sympathy, necessary to the 
 full satisfaction of the desire, has existed, it frequent- 
 ly gives birth to habits of good will, from whence 
 arises the sentiment of fraternity, which produces in 
 its turn ties more durable and more tender. 
 
 Nevertheless, in this state quarrels are frequent ; 
 and, properly speaking, justice and injustice do not 
 yet exist. The rights of the one do not affect the 
 rights of the other. Every one has as many rights 
 as wants, and the general duty of satisfying these 
 wants without any foreign consideration. There 
 does not begin to be any restrictions on these rights 
 and this duty, or rather on the manner of fulfilling 
 this duty, but at the moment in which means of mu- 
 
86 
 
 tual understanding are established ; and consequent- 
 ly conventions tacit or formal. There solely is the 
 birth 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. The Greeks who called Ceres Legislatria? 
 were wrong. It is to grammar, to language, they 
 ought to have given this title. They had placed the 
 origin of laws, and of justice, at the moment in which 
 men have amongst them relations more stable, and 
 conventions more numerous. But they ought to have 
 remounted to the birth of the first conventions, infor- 
 mal or explicit. In every way 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 saying 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. Were this the case we should never 
 have withdrawn from it.* A false principle has led 
 him to an excellent consequence. It has always 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- 
 
 * We must however admit that nature, or the order of things, 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 war ; and that it is art which has caused it to cease, or at least 
 has frequently suspended it amongst us, by conventions. This still 
 Agrees with our general principle, that we create nothing; were there 
 not natural and necessary wars, there never would have been any con- 
 ventional and artificial ones. The invincibly permanent state of the 
 relations of man with animals of other species, is what disposes him most 
 *:o 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 of 
 the necessity for conventions, the source of all jus- 
 tice, but, by starting from a false or at least an inex- 
 act principle, (a state of war the natural state) ; and 
 that from the just and profound sentiment of the 
 want of peace among men, he has been led to a false 
 idea the necessity of servitude. When we see such 
 examples, how ought we to tremble in enouncing an 
 opinion?* 
 
 Yet I cannot help believing that which I have just 
 explained to be true. 
 
 It seems to me proved, that from our faculty of wil- 
 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 single duty of providing 
 for these wants ; 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 not 
 changed for this as to its foundation, but only to the 
 manner of fulfilling it; and that it is at this moment 
 alone, that justice and injustice properly so called 
 commence. 
 
 It is not yet the time to dev elope all the conse- 
 quences of these principles, but it is time to termi- 
 nate this long preliminary, by the reflections to which 
 it gives rise. 
 
 * This latter error of Hobbes has rot, however, been produced i 
 excellent 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 
 
 SECTION SEVENTH.' 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 The general considerations on which we have just 
 dwelt, are those which first present themselves to 
 our understanding when we begin to observe our 
 will. However little we reflect thereon, we see first 
 that it is a mode of our sensibility, which 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 
 experiences, causes us to know beings different from 
 us, and completes our idea of individuality, of per- 
 sonality, and property, exclusive of whatsoever af- 
 fects us.* It is not less visible, that this faculty of 
 willing is the source of all our wants, and of all our 
 miseries ; for an indifferent being would be impas- 
 sive; and it is equally 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 
 resources ; for all our power consists in the employ- 
 ment of our physical and intellectual forces. 
 
 It follows from this, that every animated being, in 
 virtue of the laws of his nature, has the right of satisfy- 
 ing 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 two other volumes. 
 
.89 
 
 manner for the attainment of this object.; for endow- 
 ed with passion, he cannot be condemned to suffer 
 but as little as possible, and endowed with action, 
 he ought to avail himself of it to this end. It follows 
 thence, further, that liberty, the power of executing 
 his will, is for a willing being the first good, and in- 
 cludes them all, for he would be always happy if he 
 had always the power of satisfying all his desires ; 
 and all his ills consist always in constraint, that is 
 to say in the inability to satisfy himself. 
 
 We see moreover that the employment of our force, 
 labour of every kind, is our only primitive riches, 
 the source of all others, the first cause of their value, 
 and that labour itself has always two values. The one 
 is natural and necessary : it is that of all those things 
 which are indispensable to the satisfaction of the 
 wants of the animated being which performs this la- 
 bour during the time he is performing it. The other 
 is eventual, and often conventional : it consists in thei 
 mass of utility that results from this same labour. 
 
 In fine we see, with equal clearness, that the 
 manner of fulfilling our single duty, that of well em- 
 ploying our means, varies according to the circum- 
 stances in which we are placed; whether it be when 
 we are in contact with those beings only which do 
 not manifest any sensibility, or when we have to do 
 with animated beings, but to which we can make 
 ourselves but imperfectly understood, or when we 
 are in relation with sensible beings like ourselves, 
 with whom We can perfectly correspond and make 
 conventions. At this point justice and injustice, pro- 
 perly so called, and true society, commence; the ob- 
 ject and motive of which is always to augment the 
 
90 
 
 power of every one, by making that of others concur 
 with it, and by preventing them from reciprocally 
 hurting one another. 
 
 All these first ideas are good and sound, at least 
 I think so, and begin already to throw some light on 
 the subject with which we are occupied; but they are 
 far from being sufficient. They do not sufficiently 
 inform us what are the numerous results of the em- 
 ployment of our force, of our labour, in a word of our 
 actions, and what new interests their combinations 
 produce among us, nor what are the different senti- 
 ments which germinate from our first desires, or what 
 they have useful or injurious to the happiness of all 
 and every one : nor, finally, what is the best possi- 
 ble direction of these actions and sentiments. These 
 are, however, so many subjects necessary to be treat- 
 ed of in order to give a complete history of the will 
 and Us effects; and it is there we find again the divi- 
 sion we announced. It is requisite then to enter- 
 into further details, and I will now begin to speak of 
 our actions. 
 
OF OUR ACTIONS 
 
1 I 
 
 (U \LIY< 
 
 FIRST PART 
 
 OF THE 
 
 TREATISE ON THE WILL AND ITS EFFECTS. 
 
 OF OUR ACTIONS. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OJ Society. 
 
 The introduction which has been just read is con- 
 secrated entirely to an examination of the genera- 
 tion of some very general ideas; the casting of a 
 first glance on the nature of that mode of our sensi- 
 bility which we call the will, or the faculty of will- 
 ing ; and to the indication of some of its immediate 
 and universal consequences. 
 
 We have therein seen summarily ; first, what are 
 inanimate or insensible beings, such as many appear 
 to us, which may well exist for the sensible beings, 
 which they affect, but which do not exist for them- 
 selves, since they do not percieve it; second, what 
 would be the nature of beings feeling, but feeling 
 every thing with indifference, so that from their sensi- 
 bility no choice, no preference, no desire, in a word 
 no will would result ; third, what are those beings 
 sentient and willing, such as all the animals with 
 which we are acquainted, and especially as our- 
 selves, but insulated; fourth, and in fine, what be- 
 ings, feeling and willing in our way, become when, 
 they are iu contact and iy, relation with other ani- 
 
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, and 
 clearly perceive the connexion, of this second section 
 of the elements of ideology with that which precedes 
 it. But it would be inconvenient, in a treatise on the 
 will, 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 be 
 sentient and willing, but living insulated. 
 
 Man cannot exist thus ; this is proved by the fact, 
 for we have never seen in any corner of the world 
 an animal in the human form, however brutish he 
 might be, which has no kind of relation with any 
 other animal of his own species : that is not less de- 
 monstrated by reasoning. For such an individual, 
 strictly speaking, may exist although very misera- 
 bly, yet certainly he could not reproduce himself. 
 That the species may be perpetuated, it is indispen- 
 sable that the two sexes should unite; it is even ne- 
 cessary that the infant, produced by their union, 
 should receive for along 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 all 
 experience pleasure from sharing our impressions, our 
 Affections, our sentiments, and those of our fellow 
 creatures. Perhaps this inclination exists amongst 
 all animated beings ; perhaps even it is in us from 
 the 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- 
 giously. 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. Moreover, 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 will, and of their force wiHh 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 less perfect, but always as appears, 
 more circumstantial, and more capable of detailed 
 explanations, than that of any 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 will not examine 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 which it rests, and without which it could not 
 subsist. These are researches which will be the 
 
6 
 
 object of the second part of this treatise. In this I 
 shall consider the social state only under its econo- 
 mical relation, that is to say relatively to our most 
 direct wants, and to the means we have of satisfying 
 them. It is that which may lead us surely to esti- 
 mate the value and utility of all our actions, to judge 
 of their merits by their consequences, and conse- 
 quently of the merit of those sentiments which deter- 
 mine us to one action rather than another. 
 
 Now what is society viewed under this aspect ? I 
 do not fear to announce it. Society is purely and 
 solely a continual series of exchanges. It is never 
 any thing else, in any epoch of its duration, from its 
 commencement the most unformed, to its greatest 
 perfection. And this is the greatest eulogy we can 
 give to it, for exchange is an admirable transaction, in 
 which the two contracting parties always both gain ; 
 consequently society is an uninterrupted succession 
 of advantages, unceasingly renewed for all its mem- 
 bers. This demands an explanation. 
 
 First, society is nothing but a succession of ex- 
 changes. In effect, let us begin with the first con- 
 ventions on which it is founded. Every man, before 
 entering into the state of society, has as we have seen 
 all rights and no duty, not even that of not hurting 
 others ; and others the same in respect to him. It 
 is evident they could not live together, if by a con- 
 vention formal or tacit they did not promise each 
 other, reciprocally, surety. Well ! this convention 
 is a real exchange ; every one renounces a certain 
 manner of employing his force, and receives in return 
 the same sacrifice on the part of all the others. Se- 
 curity once established by this mean, men have a 
 
multitude of mutual relations which all arrange them- 
 selves under one of the three following classes : they 
 consist either in rendering a service to receive a sal- 
 ary, or in bartering some article of merchandize 
 against another, or in executing some work in com- 
 mon. In the two firjst cases the exchange is mani- 
 fest. In the third it is not less real; for when seve- 
 ral men unite, to labour in common, each makes a 
 sacrifice to the others of what he could have done 
 during the same time for his own particular utility; 
 and he receives, for an equivalent, his part of the 
 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 would have been. It is true 
 then that society consists only in a continual succes- 
 sion of exchanges. 
 
 I do not pretend to say that men never render gra- 
 tuitous services. Far from me be the idea of deny, 
 ing benevolence, or of banishing it from their hearts ; 
 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 
 under a moral relation^* of which we are not at this 
 time speaking, than under the economical relation 
 which now occupies us. I add 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 an 
 exchange, in which one sacrifices a portion of one's 
 property, or of one's time, to procure a moral plea- 
 
 * In developing and exciting sympathy. 
 
 13 
 
8 
 
 sure, very lively and very sweet, that of obliging, or 
 to exempt oneself from a pain very afflicting, the 
 sight of suffering ; exactly as we employ a sum of 
 money to procure an artificial fire work, which di- 
 verts, or to free ourselves from something which in- 
 commodes us. 
 
 It is equally true that an exchange is a transac- 
 tion in which the two contracting parties both gain. 
 Whenever I make an exchange freely, and without 
 constraint, it is because I desire the thing I receive 
 more than that I give ; and, on the contrary, he with 
 whom I bargain desires what I offer more than that 
 which he renders me. When I give 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 who pays me prizes more the 
 services I render him than what he gives me in re- 
 turn. When 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. When several of us agree to 
 execute any labour whatsoever in common, whether 
 to defend ourselves against an enemy, 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. We 
 are all satisfied in all these species of exchanges, 
 every one finds his advantage in the arrangement 
 proposed. 
 
In truth it is possible that, in an exchange, one 
 of the contractors, or even both, may have been 
 wrong to desire the bargain which they conclude.- 
 It is possible they may give a thing, which they 
 will soon regret, for a thing which they will soon 
 cease to value. It is possible, also, that one of the 
 two may not have obtained for that which he sacri- 
 fices as much as he might have asked, so that he 
 will suffer a relative loss while the other makes & i 
 exaggerated gain. But these are particular c- 
 which do not belong to the nature of the transaction. 
 And it is not less true that it is the essence of free 
 exchange to be advantageous to both parties ; and 
 that the true utility of society is to render possible 
 amongst us a multitude of similar arrangements. 
 
 It is this innumerable crowd of small particular 
 advantages, unceasingly arising, which composes 
 the general good, and which produces at length the 
 wonders of perfected society, and the immense dif- 
 ference we see between it and a society imperfect or 
 almost null, such as exists amongst savages. It is 
 not improper to direct our attention for some time to 
 this picture, which does not sufficiently strike us be- 
 cause we are too much accustomed to it. 
 
 What is it in effect which a country ancient- 
 ly civilized offers to our contemplation ? The 
 fields are cleared and cleaned, freed from the large 
 vegetables which originally covered them, rid of 
 noxious plants and animals, and in every respect 
 prepared to receive the annual cares of the cultiva- 
 tor. The marshes are drained. The stagnant wa- 
 ters which occupied it have ceased to fill the air with 
 pestilential vapours. Issues have (been opened for 
 
id 
 
 them, or their extent has been circumscribed ; and 
 the ,ands which they infected have become abun- 
 dant pastures, or useful reservoirs. The 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 
 <>f numerous flocks. The forests which have been 
 permitted to remain have not continued impenetra- 
 fcle : The wild beasts which 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, and 
 has even been sometimes extended to a most diligent 
 culture. Tbe running waters which traverse all 
 these lands have, likewise, not remained in their 
 primitive state : The 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 of streams less considerable has been 
 restrained for working mills and other machines, or 
 diverted to irrigate declivities which needed it, and to 
 jren'lr them productive. On the whole surface of 
 the 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. These habitations have been sur- 
 
11 
 
 rounded with enclosures and plantations, that ren- 
 der them more agreeable and more useful. Roads 
 have been made to go to them and to take away the 
 produce of the earth. In points where several dif- 
 ferent interests have concentrated, and where other 
 men have become sufficiently necessary to the ser- 
 vice of the cultivators, to be able to subsist on the 
 wages of their labour, habitations have been multi- 
 plied and made contiguous, and have formed vil- 
 lages and small towns. On the banks of large 
 rivers, and on the shores of the sea, in points in 
 which the interests of several of these towns have 
 coincided, large cities have been built ; which have 
 themselves in time given birth to a still greater one, 
 which has become their capital and their common 
 centre, because it has been found the most favoura- 
 bly situated to unite all the others, and to be provi- 
 sioned and defended by them. Finally, all these 
 towns communicate with each other, with the neigh- 
 bouring seas, and with foreign countries, by means 
 of bridges, causeways, canals, in which the whole 
 of human industry is displayed. Such are the ob- 
 jects which strike us at the first aspect of a country 
 where men have exercised all their power, and have 
 appropriated it to themselves for a long time. 
 
 If we penetrate the interior of their habitations 
 we there find an immense number of useful animals, 
 raised, nourished, made obsequious, by man, mul- 
 tiplied by him to an inconceivable point ; a prodi- 
 gious quantity of necessaries of every species, com- 
 modities, furniture, utensils, instruments, clothing, 
 articles, raw or manufactured, metals, necessary or 
 precious ; finally, whatever may sooner or later con- 
 
tribute to the satisfaction of our wants. We admire 
 there above all things, a population really astonish- 
 ing, all the individuals of which have the use of a 
 perfected language, 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. We remark, with still more surprise, that 
 many of these men have attained a degree of know- 
 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, since 
 they 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 intelligence ; and finally, that not 
 content with having thus insured interior prosperity 
 they have explored the rest of the earth, established 
 relations with foreign nations, and provided for 
 their security from without. 
 
 What an immense accumulation of means of well 
 being ! What prodigious results from that part of 
 the 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 ! The imagination even is astonished ; 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 preservation. We 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 so 
 express ourselves, is still more surprising. It has 
 always 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. The 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. Finally, we must 
 remark that the efforts of men, for the amelioration 
 of 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 society ; 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. These latter considerations might become 
 discouraging. But we shall see elsewhere by how 
 
many reasons we ought to be assured against 
 the fear of such misfortunes in future. We will 
 also examine to what point the progress of the 
 species, taken in mass, augments the happiness of 
 individuals, a condition necessary to enable us to 
 rejoice at it. But at this moment let it suffice to 
 have shown the prodigious power which men ac- 
 quire when united ; while separated they can with 
 difficulty sustain their miserable existence. Smith, 
 if I am not mistaken, is the first who has remarked 
 that man alone makes exchanges, properly speak- 
 ing. See his admirable chapter, 4th of the 1st 
 book of his treatise on the wealth of nations. I re- 
 gret that in remarking this fact he has not sought its 
 cause with more curiosity. It was not for the au- 
 thor of the theory of moral sentiments to regard as 
 useless a scrutiny of the operations of our under- 
 standing. His success and his faults ought to have 
 contributed equally to make him think the contrary. 
 Notwithstanding this negligence his assertion is not 
 the less true. We clearly see certain animals exe- 
 cute labours which concur to a common end, arid 
 which to a certain point appear to have been con- 
 certed; or fight for the possession of what they desire, 
 or supplicate to obtain it ; but nothing announces 
 that they really make formal exchanges. The 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 have 
 explained in my second volume, article of interjec- 
 tions, and in my first, on the subject of signs,) from 
 their being incapable of sufficiently decomposing 
 their ideas, to generalise, to abstract, and to express 
 
15 
 
 them separately in detail, and in the form of a pro- 
 position ; whence it happens that those of which they 
 are 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. They make no exchanges, and 
 he does. Accordingly he alone has a real society; 
 for commerce is the whole of society, as labour is 
 the whole of riches. 
 
 "We can scarcely conceive at first that the great 
 effects, which we have just described, have no other 
 cause than the sole reciprocity of services and the 
 multiplicity of exchanges. However this continual 
 succession of exchanges has three very remarka- 
 ble advantages. 
 
 First, the labour of several men united is more 
 productive, than that of the same men acting sepa- 
 rately. Is there a question of defence? Ten men 
 will easily resist an enemy, who would have de- 
 stroyed them all in attacking one after another. Is 
 a burden to be removed? That 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. Is some 
 complicated work to be executed ? Several things 
 are to be done simultaneously. One does one while 
 another does another, and all contribute to effect 
 what a single man could not have produced. One 
 rows while another steers, and a third casts the net 
 i* 
 
16 
 
 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 is this that directs the employ- 
 ment of our force, and renders it more fruitful, in 
 proportion to its greater soundness and extent. 
 Now no man 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 known 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. Intelligence then will increase inuch more ra- 
 pidly, than 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 stu- 
 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. 
 
 Thirdly, and this still merits attention : when 
 several men labour reciprocally for one another 
 every one can devote himself exclusively to the oc- 
 cupation for which he is fittest, whether from his 
 natural dispositions or from fortuitous circumstan- 
 ces ; and thus he will succeed better. The 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 
 
17 
 
 in civilised society is sometimes carried to an 
 inconceivable point, and always with advantage. 
 The writers on economics have all attached an ex- 
 treme importance to the division of labour ; and they 
 have made much noise with this observation, which 
 is not ancient ; they have been right. Yet this third 
 advantage of society is far from having an interest 
 equally eminent with the two former, the concur- 
 rence of force and the communication of knowledge. 
 In all cases, that which is most difficult is to assign 
 to things their true value ; for this, we must know 
 them perfectly. 
 
 Concurrence of force, increase and preservation 
 of knowledge, and division of labour, these are 
 the three great benefits of society. They cause 
 themselves to be felt from the first by men the most 
 rude ; but they augment in an incalculable ratio, in 
 proportion as they are perfected, and every degree 
 of amelioration, in the social order, adds still to the 
 possibility of increasing and better using them. 
 The energy of these three causes of prosperity will 
 show itself still more evidently, when we shall 
 have seen more in detail the manner in which 
 our riches are formed. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Of Production, or of the formation of our Riches. 
 
 It is so true that we cannot reason justly while 
 the sense of words is not well determined, that it is 
 very important in political economy, to know what 
 we ought to understand by the word production, in 
 the language of this science. This question, which 
 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 the 
 head 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. 
 
 All the operations of nature and of art resolve 
 into transmutations, into changes, of form and of 
 place. 
 
 Not only we 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. Hence 
 this axiom, admitted by all antiquity, "nothing 
 comes from nothing, or returns to nothing."* 
 
 * It is very just. I shall believe in the possibility of a creation, 
 7/hen any body shall show me one, or even an annihilation. 
 
20 
 
 What then do we do by our labour, by our action 
 on all the bodies which surround us ? Never any 
 thing, but operate in these beings changes of form 
 or of place, which render them proper for our use, 
 which make them useful to the satisfaction of our 
 wants. This is what we should understand by 
 to produce : It is to give things an utility which 
 they had not. .Whatever be our labour, if no uti- 
 lity results from it it is unfruitful. If any results it 
 is productive. 
 
 It seems at first, and many likewise believe it, 
 that there is a more real production in that labour 
 which has for its object the procurement of first ma- 
 terials, than in that which consists in fashioning and 
 transporting them ; but it is an illusion. When I 
 put seed in contact with air, water, earth, and differ- 
 ent manures, so that from the combinations of these 
 elements results wheat, hemp, or tobacco, there is no 
 more creation operated, than when I take the grain 
 of this wheat to convert it into flour and bread , the 
 filaments of this hemp to make successively thereof 
 thread, cloth, and habiliments ; and the leaves 
 of this tobacco to prepare them so as to smoke, 
 chew, or snuff them. In both cases there is a pro- 
 duction of utility, for all these labours are equally 
 necessary to accomplish the desired end, the satis- 
 faction of some of our wants. 
 
 The man who draws fish from the depths of the 
 sea is no more a creator than those who dry and salt 
 them, who extract the oil, the eggs, &c. &c. or 
 transport these products to me. It is the same 
 with those who dig in mines, who convert the mi- 
 neral into metal and the metal into utensils, or fur- 
 
niture, and who carry these instruments to those 
 who want them. Each adds a new utility to the 
 utility already produced, consequently each is equal- 
 ly a producer. All equally study the laws, which 
 govern the different beings to turn them to their pro- 
 fit ; all employ, to produce the desired effect, the 
 chemical and mechanical forces of nature. What 
 we call her vegetative force is not of another nature, 
 it is but a series of elective attractions, of true chy- 
 mical affinities with all the circumstances of which 
 we are undoubtedly not acquainted, but yet know 
 how to favor them by our labours, and to direct these 
 in such a manner as to render them useful. 
 
 It is then erroneously that they have made agri- 
 cultural industry a thing essentially 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 greatly 
 embarrassed to know precisely what they should 
 understand by agricultural industry, taken in this 
 sense. They have comprised therein fishing and 
 hunting. But why not likewise comprehend the 
 industry of erratic shepherds? Is there so great a 
 difference between raising animals to nourish our- 
 selves, and killing or taking them ready raised to 
 nourish ourselves in the same manner. If he who 
 extracts salt from sea water, by exposing it to the 
 action of the rays of the sun, is a producer, why 
 should not he who extracts the same salt from the 
 water of a fountain, by means of the action of fire, 
 and that of the wind, in buildings of graduation, be 
 a producer also ? And yet what specific difference 
 
is there between his manufacture, and all those 1 
 which yield other chymical products ? If we rank 
 in this productive class him who extracts minerals 
 from the earth, why not also comprehend him who 
 extracts metals from these minerals ? If one pro- 
 duces the mineral the other produces the metal, and 
 where shall we stop in the different transformations 
 which this matter undergoes, 'till it becomes a piece 
 of furniture or a jewel? at what point of these sue- 
 cessive labours can we say, here we cease to pro- 
 duce, and do nothing but fashion ? We may say 
 as much of those who seek wood in forests, or turf 
 in bogs, or who collect on the shores of the sea or 
 of rivers the useful things which the waters have 
 deposited there. Are they agricolists, fabricators, 
 or carriers ? And if they are all these at the same 
 time, why are they more producers under one of 
 these denominations than under the two others ? - 
 Finally, to speak only of culture, properly so call- 
 ed, I demand that it be precisely determined who is 
 the true producer, the agricolist by excellence, he 
 who sows or he who reaps ; he who ploughs, or he 
 who fences ; he who conveys manure into the fields, 
 or he who leads the flocks to fold in them? For my 
 part I declare that they all appear only as so many 
 different workmen, who concur in the same fabrica- 
 tion. I stop here, because one might propose to the 
 partisans of the opinion I combat a thousand ques- 
 tions, as insoluble as these, in their system. When 
 we set out from a false principle difficulties arise in. 
 crowds : perhaps this is one of the great causes of 
 the obscure, embarrassed, and almost mysterious, 
 
83 
 
 language which we remark in the writings of the 
 ancient economists. When ideas are not precise it 
 is impossible that expressions should be clear; 
 
 The truth is simply, that all our useful labours 
 are productive, and that those relative to agricul- 
 ture are so like the others, in the same manner as 
 the others, for the same reason as the others , and 
 have in this nothing particular. A farm is a real 
 manufactory ; every thing is operated there in the 
 same way, by the same principles, and for the same 
 causes. A field is a real utensil, or, if you please, 
 a store of first materials, which any one may take 
 if it yet belongs to nobody ; and which must be 
 bought, rented, or borrowed, if it has already an 
 owner. It does not change its nature, whether I 
 employ it in the raising of grain, in bleaching 
 linen, or for any other purpose. In every case it 
 is an instrument necessary to produce a desired 
 effect, as a furnace, a hammer, or a vessel. The 
 only difference between this instrument and every 
 other, is that to use it, as it cannot be removed, we 
 must go to it, instead 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. 
 Would you so generalise this term as to extend it 
 to all the labours which have for their object the 
 procurement of first materials? it is then certain 
 that agricultural industry is the first in date and the 
 most necessary of all, because it is necessary that a 
 thing should be procured before it can be applied to 
 use ; but it is not for that reason exclusively pro- 
 ductive, for most of its productions must yet be fur- 
 
ther wrought before they become useful to us ; and 
 moreover we must then comprehend in agricultural 
 industry, not only that of hunters, fishers, shep- 
 herds, miners, &c. but also that of the rudest sava- 
 ges, and even that of all those beasts which live on 
 the spontaneous productions of the earth, since these 
 are first matters which these creatures procure for 
 themselves ; in truth, they are immediately consum- 
 ed, but this does not change the thesis. Certainly 
 these are singular agricolists, and singular pro- 
 ducers. 
 
 Will it be insisted that agricultural industry shall 
 be restrained to agriculture, properly so called ? 
 then it is not the first in chronological order, for 
 fiien are fishers, hunters, shepherds, and mere vaga- 
 bonds, in the manner of brutes, long before they are 
 agricultors. It is not even the only industry pro- 
 ductive of first materials, for we employ many for 
 which we are not indebted to it. Doubtless it is 
 always very important, and is the principal source 
 of our subsistance, if not of our riches ; but it can- 
 not be regarded as exclusively productive. 
 
 Let us conclude that all useful labour is really 
 productive, and that all the laborious class of soci- 
 ety merits equally the name of productive. The 
 truly sterile class is that of the idle, who do nothing 
 but live, nobly as it is termed, on the products of 
 labours executed before their time, whether these 
 products are realised in landed estates which they 
 lease, that is to say which they hire to a labourer, 
 or that they consist in money or effects which they 
 lend for a premium, which is still a hireing. 
 These are the true drones of the hive, (fruges con- 
 
sumere nati) unless they render themselves deserv- 
 ing by the functions which they discharge or the 
 knowledge which they diffuse ; for these are, also, 
 useful and productive labours, although not of an 
 immediate utility in relation to riches ; ^we will 
 speak of them hereafter. 
 
 As to the laborious class and that immediately 
 productive of our riches, as its action on all the be- 
 ings of nature always reduces itself to the change 
 of form or of place, it naturally divides itself into 
 two, the manufacturers comprising agriculturists, 
 who fabricate and fashion, and merchants who 
 transport, for this is the real utility of the latter. 
 If they did nothing but buy and sell, without 
 transporting, without retailing, without facilitating 
 any thing, they would be nothing more than incom- 
 modious parasites, gamesters, stock-jobbers ; of the 
 one and the other of whom we shall shortly speak ; 
 and we shall quickly see how much light our man- 
 ner of considering things throws on the whole pro- 
 gress of society. We must now explain a little 
 more fully in what this utility consists, our only 
 production which results from all labour well un- 
 derstood ; and to see how it is appreciated, and 
 how it constitutes the value of whatsoever we call 
 our riches. 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 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 exist 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 examples, but 
 they would 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 all 
 we desire is to multiply our enjoyments and to di- 
 minish our sufferings 5 and certainly the sentiment 
 of pleasure and of satisfaction is a good. All goods 
 are even nothing more than that differently modi- 
 fied. Whatever, 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 degrees ; for the measure of the 
 utility of a thing, real or supposed, is the vivacity 
 with which it is generally desired. Now, how are 
 we to fix the degrees of a thing so inappreciable as 
 
28 
 
 the vivacity of our desires ? We have, however, 
 a very sure manner of arriving at it. It is to ob- 
 serve the sacrifices to which these desires determine 
 us. If, to obtain any thing whatsoever, I am dis- 
 posed to give three measures of wheat which be- 
 long to me ; and if, to obtain another, I am ready 
 to part with twelve like measures, it is evident 
 that I desire the last four times more than the other. 
 In like manner, if I give a man a salary triple of 
 that which I offer another, it is clear that I value 
 the services of the first three times more than those 
 of the second 5 or, if I personally do not value them 
 so much, it is however the value generally attached 
 to them, so that I could not procure them at a 
 smaller price ; and, since, in fine, I make this sa- 
 crifice freely, it is a proof that its object is worth it 
 even to me. 
 
 In the state of society which is nothing but a con- 
 tinual succession of exchanges, it is thus that the 
 values of all the products of ouiyndustry are deter- 
 mined. This fixation, without doubt, is not always 
 founded on very good reasons ; we are often very 
 dear appreciates of the real merit of things. But, 
 in fine, in relation to riches, their value is not the 
 less that which the general opinion assigns to them 5 
 whence we see, by the way, that the greatest pro- 
 ducer is he who performs that kind of labour most 
 dearly paid for. It imports little whether this la- 
 bour should be a branch of agricultural, manufac- 
 turing, or commercial, industry ; and, from hence, 
 we also see that, of two nations, that which has 
 most riches, or most enjoyments, is that whose 
 workmen are the most laborious and the most skill- 
 
ful in every kind, or who devote themselves to the 
 kinds of labour most fruitful ; in a word, whose la- 
 bourers produce the most value in the same time. 
 
 This brings us back to the subject of which we 
 had already begun to treat in the introduction, (sec- 
 tions three and four) : our only original property is 
 our physical and intellectual force. The employ- 
 ment of our force, our labour, is our only primitive 
 riches. All the beings existing in nature, suscep- 
 tible of becoming useful to us, are not so actually 
 as yet. They only become so by the action which 
 we exercise on them ; by the labour, small or great, 
 simple or complicated, which we execute to convert 
 them to our use. They have no value for us, and 
 with us, but by this labour, and in proportion to its 
 success. This is not saying that if they have alrea- 
 dy become the property of any one, we must not 
 begin by making a sacrifice to him, in order to ob- 
 tain them, before disposing of them. But they 
 have not become the property of any one, but be- 
 cause he has previously applied to them a labour of 
 some kind, the fruit of which the social conventions 
 assure to him. Thus this sacrifice itself is the price 
 of some labour ; and, previous to any labour, these 
 beings had no actual value, and that which they 
 have is never derived but from some employment 
 of our force, of which they are more the object. 
 
 This employment of our force, this labour, we 
 have also seen has a natural and necessary value ; 
 without which it would never have had an artificial 
 and conventional one. This necessary value is the 
 sum of the indispensable wants, the satisfaction of 
 which is necessary to the existence of him who exe. 
 
80 
 
 cutes this labour, during the time he is executing it, 
 But here, where we speak of the value which results 
 from the free transactions of society, it is clearly seen, 
 that we have in view the conventional and market 
 value; that which general opinion attaches to things, 
 erroneously or reasonably. If it is less than the 
 wants of the labourer, he must devote himself to some 
 other industry, or he must perish. If il is strictly 
 equal to them he subsists with difficulty. If it is 
 greater he grows rich, provided always that he is 
 economical. In every case this conventional and 
 market value is the real one, in relation to riches ; 
 it is the true measure of the utility of the produc- 
 tion, since it fixes its price. 
 
 However, this conventional value, this market 
 price, is not solely the expression of the estimation 
 in which we generally hold a thing. It varies ac- 
 cording to the wants and means of the producer and 
 consumer, of the buyer and of the seller ; for the 
 product of my labour, even should it have cost me 
 much time and pains, if I am pressed to dispose of 
 it, if there are many similar to be sold, or if there 
 are but small means of paying for it, I must ne- 
 cessarily part with it for a low price. On the con- 
 trary, if the buyers are numerous, urgent, rich, I 
 may sell very dear what I have procured very 
 easily.* It is therefore on different circumstances, 
 and on the equilibrium of the resistance between 
 sellers and buyers, that the market price depends ; 
 
 * Merchants know well that to prosper there is no other mean, 
 but to render the merchandise agreeable, and to be within reach of 
 the rich? Why do not nations think the same? They would 
 rivalise industry only, and would never think of desiring the impo- 
 verishment of their neighbours ; they would be happy. 
 
31 
 
 but it i not less true, that it is the measure of the 
 value of things, and of the utility of the labour 
 which produces them. 
 
 There is, however, another way of considering 
 the utility of labour, but that is less relative to the 
 individual than to the human species in general. I 
 explain myself by an example. Before the invention 
 of the stocking loom, a man, or a woman, by knitting 
 could make a pair of stockings in a given time ; and 
 received wages proportionate to the degree of inte- 
 rest which was taken in the procurement of the pro- 
 duct of that labour, and to the difficulty of this parti- 
 cular labour comparatively with all other kinds. 
 Things thus regulated the stocking loom is invented ; 
 and, I suppose that by means of this machine, the 
 same person, without more trouble or more know- 
 ledge, can execute precisely three times as much 
 work as before, and of the same quality. It is not 
 doubtful but at first it would be paid three times high- 
 er for to those who wear stockings, the manner in 
 which they have been made is indifferent. But this 
 machiae, and the small talents necessary for working 
 it, will quickly multiply, since the industry of those 
 who dedicate themselves to this labour is supposed 
 neither to be more painful, nor more difficult, than 
 the industry of those who knit ; it is certain they 
 will not have greater wages, although they do three 
 times more work.* Their labour, then, will not 
 be more productive for them ; but it will be so for 
 society, taken in mass, for there will be three 
 
 * I abstract the price of the machine, and the interest it ought to 
 yield. 
 
 16 
 
32 
 
 times as many persons supplied with stockings for 
 the same sum ; or rather, to consider only the fa- 
 brication of the stockings, every one can have now 
 as many as he could formerly for the third of the 
 money it then required, and consequently will have 
 two-thirds remaining to supply other wants. We 
 may say as much of him who bruised corn between 
 two stones before the invention of mills, with respect 
 to the miller, who does not perhaps gain more ; but 
 who grinds an hundred times more, and better. 
 This is the great advantage of civilized and enlight- 
 ened society : every one finds himself better pro- 
 vided in every way, with fewer sacrifices, because 
 the labourers produce a greater mass of utility in 
 the same time. 
 
 It is this also, by the by ? which shows the error 
 of those who, to judge of the greater or less degree 
 of ease of the poor classes of society in other times, 
 compare only the price of a day's work with the 
 price of grain ; and who, if they find that the first 
 has less increased than the second, conclude that 
 the labourers are more straitened than they were. 
 This is not exact, and probably not true ; for, first, 
 we do not eat grain in its natural state ; and it may 
 happen that it may have augmented in price, while 
 bread has not, if we now grind and bake more eco- 
 nomically. Moreover, although bread is the prin- 
 cipal expense of the poor, he has also other wants. 
 If the arts have made progress, he may be better 
 lodged, better clothed, have better drink, for the 
 same price. If the society is better regulated, he 
 may find a more regular employment for his labour, 
 and be more certain of not being troubled in the 
 
33 
 
 possession of that which he has gained. In fine, it 
 may very well be, that for the same sum he enjoys 
 more, or at least suffers less. The elements of this 
 calculation are so numerous, that it is very difficult, 
 and perhaps impossible, to make it directly. We 
 shall see in the sequel other means of deciding this 
 question, but at this moment it leads us from the 
 object with which we are occupied. Let us return. 
 We have seen that the sole and only source of 
 all our enjoyments, of all our riches, is the employ- 
 ment of our force, our labour, our industry, that 
 the true production of this industry is utility ; that 
 the measure of this utility is the salary it obtains 5 
 and besides that the quantity of utility produced is 
 what composes the sum of our means of existence 
 and enjoyment. Now let us examine the two great 
 branches of this industry, the change of form and 
 the change of place, the fabrication and the trans- 
 portation, or that which is called manufacturing and 
 commercial industry. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Of the Change of Form, or of manufacturing In- 
 dustry, comprising Agriculture. 
 
 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 our 
 labours is never but the production of utility, and 
 since the ultimate effect of all our manufactures is 
 always to produce utility, we are all producers or 
 manufacturers, because there is no person so un- 
 fortunate as never to do any thing useful. But by 
 the effect of social combinations, and by the sepa- 
 ration of the different kinds of occupation which is 
 its consequence, every one devotes himself to a par- 
 ticular kind of industry. That which has for its 
 object the fashioning and modifying all the beings 
 which surround us, to fit them for our use, we call 
 specifically manufacturing or fabricating industry ; 
 and, for reasons before given, we comprehend in 
 this that which consists in extracting the first mate- 
 rials from the elements which contain them, that is 
 to 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 of 
 industry there are three distinct things : First, to 
 know the properties of the bodies wliich we employ. 
 
3(5 
 
 and the laws of nature which govern them ; second- 
 ly, to avail ourselves of this knowledge to produce 
 an useful effect ; thirdly, to execute the labour ne- 
 cessary to attain this object. That is to say there 
 is in every thing, as he expresses it, theory, appli- 
 cation, and execution. 
 
 Before the existence of society, or during its in- 
 fancy, every man is for himself the fabricator of 
 "whatever he wants ; and, in every species of fabri- 
 cation, he is obliged to fulfil alone the three func- 
 tions of which we have just spoken. But in a more 
 advanced state of society, by the effect of the happy 
 possibility of exchanges, not only every one devotes 
 himself exclusively to the particular industry for 
 which he has the most advantages ; but, also, in 
 each kind of industry, the three functions of which 
 we are speaking are separated. Theory is the part 
 of the scientific, application that of the undertaker, 
 and execution that of the workman. 
 
 These three species of labourers must derive a 
 profit from the pains they take, for a man is born 
 naked and destitute. He cannot amass 'till after 
 he has gained ; and before having amassed he has 
 nothing, on which to subsist, but his physical and 
 moral faculties ; if the use he makes of them pro- 
 duces nothing he must find a different method of 
 employing them, or he will perish. Every one, 
 then, of the labourers of whom we speak must find 
 a salary in the profits resulting from the fabrication 
 in which he co-operates. 
 
 But all have more or less need of advances, be- 
 fore they begin to receive this salary, for it is not 
 in an instant, and without preparation, that then 
 
37 
 
 service becomes sufficiently fruitful to merit a re- 
 compence. 
 
 The man of science, or he whom at this moment 
 we consider as such, before he can have discovered 
 or learned truths immediately useful and applica- 
 ble, has had need of long studies. He has had to 
 make researches and experiments ; he has needed 
 books and machines ; in a word, he has been ob- 
 liged to incur charges and expenses, before deriv- 
 ing any advantage from them. 
 
 The undertaker does not less experience the ne- 
 cessity of some preliminary knowledge, and of a 
 preparatory education, more or less extensive. 
 Moreover, before he begins to fabricate, he must 
 obtain a place, an establishment, magazines, ma- 
 chines, first materials, and also the means of pay- 
 ing workmen ? till the moment of the first returns. 
 These are enormous advances. 
 
 Finally, the poor workman himself has not cer- 
 tainly great funds yet there is scarcely a trade in 
 which he is not obliged to have some tools of his 
 own. He has always his clothes and his small col- 
 lection of moveables. If he has but simply lived 
 'till the moment in which his labour begins to be 
 worth his bare subsistence, this must always be the 
 fruit of some former labour, that is to say of some 
 riches already acquired, which has provided for 
 it. Whether it be the economy of his parents, or 
 some public establishment, or even the product of 
 alms, which has furnished the expenses, there 
 are always advances which have been made for 
 him, if not by him ; and they could not have been 
 made if every one before him had lived from day 
 
38 
 
 to day exactly as brute animals, and had not abso- 
 lutely any thing remaining from the produce of his 
 labour. 
 
 What, then, are all these advances, great or 
 small ? They are what are commonly called capi- 
 tals, and what I simply name economies. They 
 are the surplus of the production of all those who 
 have gone before us, beyond their consumption, 
 for if the one had always been exactly equal to the 
 other there would be no remainder, not even where- 
 with to raise children. We have inherited from 
 our ancestors but this surplus ; and it is this sur- 
 plus, long accumulated in every way, always in- 
 creasing in accelerated progression, which makes 
 all the difference between a civilized nation and a 
 savage horde, a difference, the picture of which 
 we have before sketched. 
 
 The economists have entered into many details 
 on the nature and employment of capitals. They 
 have recognized many different kinds. They have 
 distinguished capitals productive and unproductive; 
 capitals fixed, and others circulating, moveable, 
 and immoveable, permanent, and destructible. I 
 see no great use in all these subdivisions. Some 
 are very contestable, others founded on very varia- 
 ble circumstances, and others again entirely super- 
 fluous. It 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 industry 
 is at first so slow, for it is at the commencement 
 above all that economies are difficult ; how can it 
 
39 
 
 but be difficult to make any accumulations, when a 
 person has scarcely any thing beyond strict ne- 
 cessaries. 
 
 However, little by little, with the assistance of 
 time and of some happy circumstances, capitals are 
 formed. They are not all of the same kind ; they 
 are not all equal ; and this gives birth to three 
 classes of labourers, who co-operate in every fabri- 
 cation, each raising himself to that to which he has 
 been able to attain, or fixing himself at that which 
 hejias not been able to overpass. It is easy to per- 
 ceive that this is the source of a great diversity in 
 salaries. The man of science, he who can enlight- 
 en the labours of fabrication, and render them less 
 expensive and more fruitful, will necessarily be 
 sought after and well paid. It is true that if his 
 knowledge is not of an immediate utility, or if being 
 useful it begins to diffuse itself and to become com- 
 mon, he will run the risk of seeing himself neglect- 
 ed, and even without employment ; but while he is 
 wanted his salary will be large. 
 
 The poor workman, who has nothing but his 
 arms to offer, has not this hope : he will always be 
 reduced to the smallest price, which may rise a little 
 if the demand for labour is much greater than that 
 which is offered ; but which will fall even below 
 the necessaries of life, if more workmen offer them- 
 selves than can be employed. It is in these cases 
 they perish through the effect of their distresses. 
 
 These two kinds of co-operators in fabrication, the 
 man of science and the workman, will always be in 
 the pay of the undertaker. Thus decrees the na- 
 ture of things ; for it is not sufficient to know how 
 17 
 
40 
 
 to aid an enterprise with the head or the hands : 
 there must, ft; at be an enterprize; and he who under - 
 ta;tes it, is necessarily the person who chooses, em- 
 ploys, and pays those who co-operate. Now who 
 is he who can undertake it ? It is the man who has 
 already funds, with which he can meet the first ex- 
 penses of establishment and supplies, and pay wa- 
 ges till the moment of the first returns. 
 
 What will be the measure of the recompense of 
 this man ? It will be solely the quantity of utility 
 which he will have produced and caused to be pro- 
 duced. Re can have no other. If having pur- 
 chased an hundred francs worth of articles, what- 
 soever, and having expended a hundred more in 
 changing their form, it happens that what goes 
 from his manufactory appears to have sufficient 
 utility to induce a person to give four hundred to 
 procure it, he has giined two hundred francs. If 
 lie is offered only two hundred for it, he has lost 
 his time and his pains ; if he is offered but one hun- 
 dred, he has lost the half of his funds ; all these 
 chances are possible. He is subject to this incerti- 
 tude; which cannot affect the hireling, who always 
 receives the price agreed on, whatever happens. 
 
 It is commonly said that the profits of the under- 
 taker (improperly called salaries, since no one has 
 promised him any tiling,) ought to represent the 
 price of his labour, the interest of his funds, and 
 indemnification for the risks he has run : it is ne- 
 cessary and just that it should be so. I agree if you 
 please that this is just, although the word just is 
 here mis ippliod ; because no one having contracted 
 an obligation with this undertaker, to furnish him 
 
41 
 
 with these profits, there is no injustice committed if 
 he does not receive them. I agree further that this 
 is necessary, for him to continue his enterprize, and 
 not to become disgusted with his profession. But I 
 say that these calculations are not at all the cause 
 of his good or bad success. This depends solely 
 on the quantity of utility he has been able to pro- 
 duce, on the necessity that others are under of pro- 
 curing it, and finally on the means they have of 
 paying him for it; for that a thing should be de- 
 manded it is necessary it should be desired ; and to 
 buy it, it is not sufficient to have the desire of pos- 
 sessing it, we must also have another* article to give 
 in return. 
 
 In this simple exposition, you already find all 
 the mechanism, and the secret springs of that part 
 of production, which consists in fabrication. You 
 even discover the germ of the opposite interests, 
 which are established between the undertaker and 
 those on wages on the one part, and between the 
 undertaker and the consumers on the other, amongst 
 those on wages, between themselves, amongst un- 
 dertakers of the same kind, even amongst undertak- 
 ers of different kinds, since it is amongst all these 
 that the means of the mass of consumers are more 
 or less unequally divided; and finally amongst 
 consumers themselves, since it is also amongst all 
 of them, that the enjoyment of all the utility pro- 
 duced is divided. You perceive that the hirelings 
 wish there should be few to be hired, and many 
 undertakers, and the undertakers that there should 
 be few undertakers, particularly in the same line as 
 themselves, but many hirelings and also many con- 
 
sumers; and that the consumers, on the contrary, 
 wish for many undertakers and hirelings, and if 
 possible few consumers, for every one fears compe- 
 tition in his own way, and would wish to be alone 
 in order to be master. If you pursue further the 
 complication of these different interests, in the pro- 
 gress of society, and the action of the passions 
 which they produce, you will soon see all these 
 men implore the assistance of force in favour of the 
 idea with which they are prepossessed; or, at 
 least, under different pretexts, provoke prohibitive 
 laws, to constrain those who obstruct them in this 
 universal contention. 
 
 If there be a class which does not follow this di- 
 Tection, it will be that of the consumers; because 
 all the world being consumers, all cannot unite to 
 form a club, and to demand exceptions ; for it is 
 the general law, or rather liberty, which is their 
 safe-guard. Thus it is precisely, because their in- 
 terest is the universal interest, that it has no spe- 
 cial representatives, or ravenous solicitors. It even 
 happens that illusions divide them, and cause them 
 to lose sight of the principal object ; and that they 
 solicit partially, and in different directions, against 
 their real interest ; for much knowledge is requisite 
 to know it as it is general ; and much justice to res- 
 pect it, because the world lives on preferences. All 
 those, on the contrary, who have a particular pre- 
 dominating interest, are united by it ; form corpora- 
 tions ; Siave active agents ; never want pretexts to 
 insist for prevalence ; and abound in means, if they 
 are rich, or if they are formidable, as are the poor in 
 a time of troubles^ that is to say when the secret of 
 
their force is revealed to them, and they are excited 
 to abuse it. 
 
 At this moment it is not necessary to follow so 
 far the consequences of the facts which we have es- 
 tablished. Let us observe only, that the most neces- 
 sary labours are the most generally demanded, and 
 the most constantly employed ; but, also, that it is 
 in the nature of things, that they should always be 
 the most moderately paid for. This cannot be 
 otherwise. In effect, the things which are neces- 
 sary to all men, are of an universal and continual 
 use. But, for this reason alone, many occupy them- 
 selves constantly in their fabrications, and have 
 soon learnt to produce them, by well known pro- 
 cesses, and which require only common understand- 
 ing ; thus they have necessarily become as cheap 
 as possible. Moreover it is indispensable they 
 should not be dear; for almost their whole con- 
 sumption is always made by people who have but 
 few means, inasmuch as the poor are every where 
 the most numerous, and are every where also the 
 greatest consumers of necessary things, which in- 
 deed compose almost their whole expense. If then 
 they were not at a low price they would cease to be 
 consumed, and the poor could not subsist. It is on 
 the lowest price to which they can be brought, that 
 the lowest price of wages is regulated ; and the 
 workmen, who labour in their fabrication, are neces- 
 sarily comprised in this latter class of the lowest 
 wages. 
 
 Remark also, that there is nothing in what we 
 have just said of manufacturing industry, which is 
 not as applicable to agriculture as to all other spe- 
 
ties of fabrication. There are, in like manner, in ag- 
 riculture, theory, applied tion^nd execution; and we 
 find there the three kinds of labourers, relative to 
 these three objects. Kut what applies 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- ,. 
 feet, the most important and most considerable pro- 
 ductions of agriculture, are the cereal plants with 
 which we are nourished. Now 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 
 it; they must absolutely die of hunger, or their 
 wages must rise to a level with those of agricultural 
 workmen; but then those of the others would rise 
 likewise in proportion, since they are more sought 
 after ; thus the first would not be advanced. They 
 would always be at the lowest possible rate ; such 
 is the law of necessity. 
 
 What is true of agricultural workmen compara- 
 tively with other workmen, is true of agricultural 
 undertakers comparatively with other undertakers. 
 Their processes are well known. It requires but a 
 middling understanding to employ them. Results 
 of a long experience; during the existence of which 
 numerous essays have been made, and, moi'e 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- 
 
45 
 
 selves. Thence it is, that, without extraordinary 
 circumstances,* the profits of agricultural under- 
 takers are very small in proportion to their funds, 
 their risks, and their pains. Moreover, these well 
 known and very simple processes, are nevertheless 
 very embarrassing in practice ; they require much 
 care and time, so that in this state, one man can 
 never be sufficient for the employment of large 
 funds. He could not for example direct at the same 
 time five or six farms even if he should have five 
 or six times five or six thousand francs to stock 
 them; and yet this is hut a moderate sum, in com- 
 parison with certain lines of commerce. Thus this 
 man, who ca'nnot make great profits in proportion to 
 his funds, is at the same time unable to employ con- 
 siderable funds. It is then impossible that he 
 should ever make a real fortune. This is the rea- 
 son why there always are and ever will be few 
 capitals employed in agriculture, in comparison 
 with the quantity of those which exist in society. 
 Let us prove, this truth by facts ; they will show us 
 at the same time why agricultural operations often 
 take different forms, which have not, or do not appear 
 to have any thing analagous in the other arts. It is 
 
 * One of these circumstances, the most extraordinary, is, without 
 contradiction, the discovery of the advantages of the propagation of 
 Spanish sheep, instead of those of the country. This is the immortal 
 glory of M. D'Aubenton, and the fruit of thirty years perseverance. 
 Well! What has happened since this has been established? Even 
 before the cultivator could procure these animals, and before he well 
 knew the manner of deriving advantage from them, he gives already 
 a much higher rent for lands on which he hoped to be able to raise 
 them : That is to say, a part of the profits is taken from him in ad- 
 vance ; the remainder will not fail to be taken from him at the next 
 lease. 
 
46 
 
 an interesting subject, which I have not yet seen 
 well explained in any of our books on agriculture, 
 or of economy. 
 
 You never see, or at least very rarely, a man 
 having funds, activity, and a desire of augmenting 
 his fortune, employ his money in buying a large 
 extent of land, to cultivate it, and make of it his 
 profession for life. If he buys it, it is to sell again ; 
 or to find resources necessary to some other enter- 
 prize ; or to take from it a cutting of wood ; or for 
 some other speculation, more or less transitory. In 
 a word, it is an affair of commerce, and not of agri- 
 culture. On the contrary, you often see a man pos- 
 sessed of a good landed estate sell it, to employ the 
 price in some enterprize, or to procure for himself 
 some lucrative situation. It is because culture is 
 not really the road to fortune. 
 
 Accordingly, almost all the rich who purchase 
 lands, if they are in business, do it because they 
 have greater funds than they can employ in their 
 speculations ; or because they wish to place a part 
 beyond the reach of hazard. If they are in public 
 stations, or if they do nothing but live at their ease, 
 it is to place their funds in a solid and agreeable 
 manner. But neither the one nor the other propose 
 to occupy themselves the land which they buy. J3e 
 it pleasure or business, they always have something 
 which interests them more. T-ey hope never to 
 have any further trouble with them, tiian to rent 
 them to undertakers of culture, as they would rent* 
 
 * It will be matter of astonishment to hear me say rent money, as 
 we say rent lands, or a house; but I am more justly surprised, that 
 when they say lend money, they do not also say to lend land for it 
 
V 
 
 the money which has served to purchase them, and 
 receive the interest, without troubling themselves 
 whether 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 ami little profitable profession, those who 
 devote themselves to it have generally small means, 
 as we have just observed. If they were obliged to 
 begin by buying the land they wish to cultivate, all 
 their funds would be absorbed ; there would nothing 
 remain for the other advances necessary to cul- 
 ture, and still they could undertake but small enter- 
 prizes. It is then more convenient for them to find 
 lands to be rented, than to be forced to buy them; 
 but this is not more convenient to them than 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- 
 tions, that is to say it lessens their profits and ren- 
 ders their situation more precarious ; for it is well 
 known that a merchant, who does not carry on at 
 least the greater part of his business on his own 
 funds, is in a very dangerous situation, and rarely 
 has great success. However, 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 cases 
 of gratuitous loans. 
 
 When we have a property whatsoever, there are but six ways of 
 using it To preserve or destroy it, to give or sell it, to lend or rent 
 it. They do not precisely destroy lands, but they keep them or ;ive 
 them, or sell them, or lend them, or rent them, as they do every thing 
 lse. There is the same difference between a lending and renting, as 
 between giving and selling. 
 18 
 
48 
 
 In a word, proprietors who let lands are lenders, 
 and nothing more. It is very singular that we have 
 almost always confounded and identified their inte- 
 rest with that of agriculture, to which it is as foreign 
 as that of the lenders of money is to all the enter- 
 prizes undertaken by those to whom they lend. We 
 cannot 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 soul 
 of society ;* the foster fathers of agriculture, -while 
 they most frequently lavish horror and contempt on 
 the lenders of money, who perform exactly the same 
 office as the others, f A rich incumbent who hag 
 just let a farm exorbitantly high considers himself 
 as a very clever, and what is more, as a very useful 
 man ; he has not the least doubt of his scrupulous 
 probity, and he does not perceive that he is exactly 
 the same thing as the most pinching usurer, whom 
 he condemns without hesitation, and without pity. 
 Perhaps even his farmer, whom he ruins, does not 
 any more than himself see this perfect similitude; so 
 much are men the dupes of words. It is true that so 
 long as they are so, they understand things badly ; 
 and, reciprocally, so long as they understand badly 
 the 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, enlightened and 
 independent, it is just; but if in their quality of proprietors of land, 
 it is absurd. 
 
 \ The lenders ofiand have even a great advantage over the others, 
 because when they have found a mean of obtaining a higher rent, 
 they have by this circumstance augmented their capital : land is sold 
 according to its rents. This does not happen to the lenders of money. 
 
49 
 
 help returning frequently to this fact, for it is a great 
 inconvenience to just reasoning ; which, however, 
 we must endeavour to attain in every matter. 
 
 However it be, much land being in the hands of 
 the rich, there is much to be rented ; and this, as we 
 have said, is the reason why there may be a great 
 number of enterprizes of agriculture, although there 
 is not a proportionate mass of funds in the hands of 
 the men who consecrate themselves to this state. In 
 time these rented lands arrange and distribute them- 
 selves in the manner the most favourable to the con- 
 veniencies of those who intend to work them. Hence 
 arise to great proprietors different kinds of rural 
 work, which are not the effect of caprice or of haz- 
 ard, as is believed without reflection, but which have 
 their causes in the nature of things, as we shall see. 
 
 In fertile countries the fecundity of the soil does 
 not turn directly to the profit of him who cultivates 
 it, for the proprietor does not fail to demand a rent 
 as much higher as they are more productive. But 
 this land yielding a great deal, the quantity which 
 a man can employ furnishes a considerable mass of 
 production. Now all things being otherwise equal, 
 as the profits of every undertaker are always pro. 
 portioned to the extent of his fabrication, here the 
 profits may be sufficiently great to attract the atten- 
 tion of men possessed of a certain degree of care and 
 capacity. Once again, it is not the fecundity of the 
 soil which has enriched and enlightened them ; 
 but it is this fecundity which attracts them, and 
 prevents them from transferring their means to other 
 speculations. These men wish to make a profi- from 
 all their means 5 they would not be satisfied with a 
 
50 
 
 imall work, which would leave useless a part of their 
 funds and personal activity, and would yield them, 
 but small profits. For their convenience great pro- 
 perties are distributed into large masses of land, of 
 commonly from three to five hundred acres, with a 
 good habitation near them. They desire nothing 
 else. They bring the gear, teams, cattle, provisions, 
 sufficient to enable them to wait ; they do not fear 
 being long without receiving, to receive yet more in 
 the end. They make essays, they sometimes dis- 
 cover new means of production, or of sale. In a word 
 they fabricate, they trade, and hold their rank 
 amongst the undertakers of industry These are 
 our great farmers, and this our great culture. Not- 
 withstanding these fine names, a great farm is yet 
 without doubt a sufficiently small manufactory; but 
 if it is almost the minimum of fabricating industry in 
 general, it is the maximum of agricultural industry in 
 particular. 
 
 When the soil is less fertile, this industry cannot 
 raise itself to this point. Put the same number of 
 acres in a farm, and the productions will be insuffi- 
 cient. Put therein the double, and one man will 
 not he sufficient by himself to work it;* besides the 
 expenses and risks augment in a greater proportion 
 the enterprize is no longer worth the pains. You 
 cannot then find the same kind of men to undertake 
 it. And if there be capitals somewhat considerable, 
 .and intelligence in those cantons, they will be car- 
 
 * If he takes it, it will be to under-rent and divide it. Then he 
 will be a parasite being a speculator and not a cultivator. This is don* 
 by the principal farmers of large farms where they are let on half- 
 stocks. Their object is traffic. 
 
01 
 
 ried elsewhere. What then happens? These lands, 
 which already yield less, the proprietors divide into 
 still smaller portions, to place them within the com- 
 petence of more persons of those of slender means, 
 and who often even do not make the cultivation of 
 these lands their sole occupation. It is in these 
 places that you often see small farms, or simply hou- 
 ses with very little land, or even lands without any 
 buildings Yet these grounds are rented. Those 
 who take them, even bring to them the instruments 
 and animals indispensable. In sjiort they make a 
 profit from them, hy their own labour ; but it is not 
 to be expected that they should display there the 
 same physical and moral means, as the great farmers 
 of whom we have just spoken. They are generally 
 small rural proprietors who are found in these pla- 
 ces, who join this work to their former occupations, 
 and are contented if the whole together furnishes 
 them with the means of living and rearing a family, 
 without pretending much to augment their ease, and 
 without the possibility of it, but by extraordinary 
 chances. This is what many writers call small cul- 
 ture, in opposition to that of which we have just spo- 
 ken. Yet we shall see that there are several cul- 
 tures still smaller, or, if you please, more miserable 
 than this. Observe always that this kind of small 
 culture and even that by hand, of which we shall 
 soon speak, ordinarily pay a higher rent to proprie- 
 tors than the great, in proportion to the quantity and 
 quality of the land, by the effect of the concurrence 
 of those who present themselves in great numbers 
 to work it, because they have no other industry 
 within their reach ; but it is precisely this high rent 
 
which irrevocably fixes these cultivators in that 
 state of mediocrity, or penury, which renders their 
 culture so indifferent. 
 
 When the soil is still more ungrateful, or when by 
 the effect of different circumstances the small rural 
 proprietors are rare, the great proprietors of land 
 have not this resource of forming small farms ; they 
 would not be worth the trouble of working them and 
 there would be no body applying for them. They 
 adopt then another plan : They form what are com- 
 monly called domains or half-shares (metairies); and 
 they frequently attach thereto as much or more land 
 than is contained in the great farms, particularly if 
 they do not disdain to take into account the waste 
 lands, which commonly are not rare in these places, 
 and which are not entirely without utility, since they 
 are employed for pasture, and even now and then are 
 sown with corn to give rest to the fields more ha- 
 bitually cultivated. These metai+ies, as we have 
 seen, are sufficiently large as to extent, and very 
 small as to product ; that is to say they require 
 great pains and yield little profit. Accordingly none 
 can be found having funds who are willing to occu- 
 py them, and to bring to them domestics, moveables, 
 teams and herds. They will not incur such expen- 
 ses to gain nothing. It is as much as these metai- 
 ries would be worth, were they abandoned for no- 
 thing, without demand of any rent. The proprie- 
 tor is himself then obliged to stock them with beasts, 
 utensils and every thing necessary for working them; 
 and to establish thereon a family of peasants, who 
 have nothing but their hands ; and with whom he 
 commonly agrees, instead of giving them wages, te 
 
53. 
 
 yield them balf of the product, as a recompense for 
 their pains. Thence they are called metayers, work- 
 ers on half- shares. 
 
 If the land is too bad, this half of the produce is 
 manifestly insufficient to subsist, even miserably, the 
 number of men necessary to work it. They quickly 
 run in debt, and are necessarily turned away. Yet 
 others are always found to replace them, because 
 these are always wretched people who know not 
 what to do. Even those go elsewhere, often to ex- 
 perience the same fortune. I know some of these 
 metairies which, in the memory of man, have never 
 supported their labourers on the half of their fruits. 
 If the metairie is somewhat better, the half-sharers 
 vegetate better or worse ; and sometimes even make 
 some small economies, but never enough to raise 
 them to the state of real undertakers. However, in 
 those times and cantons in which the country peo- 
 ple are somewhat less miserable, we find in this 
 class of men some individuals who have some small 
 matter in advance ; as for example, so much as will 
 nourish them during a year in expectation of the 
 first crop, and who prefer taking a metairie on lease, 
 at a fixed rent, rather than to divide the produce of 
 it. They hope by very hard labour to derive a little 
 more profit from it. These are in general more ac- 
 tive, and gain something if the ground permits, if 
 they are fortunate, if their family is not too numer- 
 ous, if they have not given too great a rent for the 
 an d; that is to say if a number of circumstances 
 rather improbable have united in their favour. Yet 
 we cannot regard them as true farmers, as real un- 
 dertakers ; since it is always the proprietor who fur- 
 
mshes the gear, the beasts, &c. and they contribute 
 only their labour. Thus it is still proper to range 
 them in the class of half- sharers. 
 
 The mass of beasts, which the proprietor delivers 
 and confides to the half-sharer, is called cheptel. It 
 increases every year by breeding, in places where 
 they raise the young, and the half-sharer divides the 
 increase as he divides the harvest; but on quitting he 
 must return a cheptel of equal value with that he re- 
 ceived on entering; and, as he has nothing to answer, 
 the proprietor or his agent keeps an active watch over 
 him, to prevent him from encroaching on the funds 
 by too great a sale. In some places, the proprietors 
 not being willing or able to furnish the stock of chep- 
 tel, there are cattle merchants, or other capitalists, 
 who furnish them, who watch over the half-sharer in 
 like manner, and take half the increase as the inter- 
 est of their funds; on the whole, it is very indifferent 
 to the half-sharer, whether they or the proprietor do 
 it. In every case we can only see in him a misera- 
 ble undertaker, without means, weighed down by 
 two lenders at high premiums, (he who furnishes the 
 land and he who furnishes the cattle,) who take from 
 him all his profits, and leave him but a bare and 
 eometimes insufficient subsistence. It is for this rea- 
 son that this kind of cultivation is also justly called 
 small culture, although it is exercised on sufficiently 
 large masses of property. 
 
 There exists still another species of work to 
 which the name of small culture is also given. It 
 is that of small rural proprietors, who labour their 
 lands themselves. Almost all the nations of mo- 
 dern Europe have set out from an order of things, 
 
55 
 
 wherein the totality of the soil was the exclusive 
 property of a small number of great proprietors : and 
 all the rest of the population laboured solely for them 
 as domestics, as serfs, or as hirelings. But by the 
 effect of industry always acting, and of successive ali- 
 enations, there has been found in almost every coun- 
 try a greater or less number of these small proprie- 
 tors of land, who all have this in common, that they 
 live on their land, and their trade is to cultivate it. 
 However, with respect to culture, it is wrong to ar- 
 range them all in the same class for amongst them 
 are some who have a somewhat considerable extent 
 of ground ; and it is particularly on poor lands we 
 find them, because it is these that the rich have alien- 
 ated in preference, not being able often to draw any 
 thing from them themselves. These certainly do 
 not incur the same expenses in their culture as the 
 rich farmers of great farms ; but they labour with 
 draught animals of a better or worse quality, and 
 they have some flocks. In a word, their work is 
 absolutely similar to that of the small farmers, of 
 whom we have spoken before.* There are others 
 again who possess a very small extent of ground, 
 and who work it with their hands alone,, whether 
 in vegetables, or in grain, or vines. These even 
 positively require this manner of working which, 
 
 * See what is the difference of the employment of funds. This 
 man, who cultivates on a small scale, has perhaps an estate on which 
 he could raise thirty thousand francs. If he would sell it he would 
 have wherewithal to take a great farm in a good country ; he would 
 be much better, and would gain more: But perhaps he does not 
 not know that this possibility exists far from him. Were he to know 
 it he would fear the risks and his own inexperience : and, besides, man 
 holds to his habits, and to the pleasure of property. 
 
 19 
 
56 
 
 as we see, is very different from the preceding : 
 besides the greater part of those who thus employ 
 themselves cannot live solely on the produce of 
 their soil, and undertake day labour a part of the 
 year. We must assimilate to these latter all those 
 who hold on leases from rich persons small habi- 
 tations, with spots of ground attached to them ; and 
 who are known by the name of tenants, labourers, 
 cottagers, &c. &c. Their industry is absolutely 
 the same, and their existence quite similar ; except 
 that the small rent they pay represents the interest 
 of the capital which the others possess : Here, 
 then, is a third thing which is also called small 
 culture ; and which comprehends two kinds of it, 
 very different from each other. 
 
 This is not all there are many writers who call 
 great culture that which is done with horses, and 
 small culture that which is done with oxen ; and 
 who believe that this division answers exactly to 
 that of farmers and half-sharers. But these two 
 designations are far from being equivalent, for on 
 one side the labourers work with their hands : 
 nothing prevents the cultivators of small farms, and 
 the small proprietors of the first of the two species 
 which we have distinguished, from labouring some- 
 times with horses or mules ; and these cultures do 
 not the less deserve the name of small. Moreover 
 it may well be if such should be the local conveni- 
 ences, that tie great farmers may work with oxen ; 
 and I believe this is seen in several countries. On 
 the other side, it is true that in general the half- 
 sharers work with oxen: 1st Because this me- 
 thod being less expensive, the greater part of pro- 
 
57 
 
 prietors prefer it. &d. Because commonly the pool- 
 countries^ which are those where we see half- 
 sharers, produce bad hay, little or no oats, and are 
 hot susceptible of artificial meadows. 3d. Because 
 these half-sharers being negligent and unskilful, it 
 is difficult to confide to them animals so delicate as 
 horses. But it is not this which constitutes them, 
 half-sharers, and which distinguishes between them 
 and farmers. Their specific character is that of 
 being wretched, without means, and unable to 
 make any advances. It is that which reduces them 
 to be half- sharers, and makes their culture really 
 small ; although by reason of the extent of their 
 metairies, 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 small 
 labourers, or in opposition only to culture by hand. 
 
 Finally, 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- 
 sively the name of great culture for that system of 
 rotation 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 
 two or three at least separate things absolutely 
 similar, and unite others totally different : and these 
 words are continually used without explaining in 
 which sense they are taken. Proceeding thus, it 
 
58 
 
 would be a great miracle if they should understand 
 one another. 
 
 I think if it is wished to write with some preci- 
 sion on agriculture, we must banish the expressions 
 great and small culture as too equivocal ; but dis- 
 tinguish carefully four sorts of culture, which have 
 very distinct characters, because they are essenti- 
 ally different ; and under which we can arrange all 
 imaginable cultures.* These are first the great 
 farms, or the culture of ricb and intelligent under- 
 takers, who make largely all the necessary advan- 
 ces. We see them only in places worth the trou- 
 ble. Sdly. The small farms, or the culture of un- 
 dertakers who likewise employ draught animals of 
 their own. but whose means of all kinds are less 
 extensive. They are generally found on poorer 
 soils. (This class includes the small farmers, and 
 the small proprietors, of the first of the two species 
 which I have distinguished.) 3dly The metairies, 
 or the culture by half-sharers, who also employ 
 draught animals, but which do not belong to them. 
 This is peculiar to bad soils. 4thly. Day labou- 
 rers, or the culture by hand, as well that of propri- 
 etors as of tenants. We find these everywhere, 
 and especially in vine countries. But they are in 
 general less numerous in very good or in very bad 
 
 * If I dare to affirm this, it is not because I have travelled much ; 
 but I have had property for about forty years, in a country of great 
 farms, a country of vineyards, and of bad h.vlf-shares. I have always 
 followed their progress with attention; and more with a view to 
 the general effect than to any particular interest. I have effected 
 sensible ameliorations in the two latter, and I am persuaded that 
 when we have thus a sufficient field of observation we gain more by 
 thoroughly examining than by multiplying them. 
 
59 
 
 countries : In the first because the rich have kept 
 almost 'all the land, in the others because the land 
 would not compensate them, and they prefer going 
 to seek their livelihood by day labour elsewhere.- 
 This division appears to me clearer and more in- 
 structive than all the others, because it shows the 
 causes of the effects. Let us therefore use it as to 
 what remains for us to say. 
 
 I think I have proved that the proprietors of 
 lands, who do not work them themselves, have ab- 
 solutely nothing in common with agriculture, nor 
 with the laws which govern it, nor with the inte- 
 rests which direct it ; that they are purely and 
 solely annuitants and lenders of a particular kind ; 
 and, consequently, that having to give an account 
 of the fabrication of the products, I ought to put 
 them aside, and consider only the undertakers of 
 culture. 
 
 Then I have shown that it is indispensable that 
 the undertakers of the most necessary fabrications 
 should be, of all others, those who make the most 
 slender profits, in proportion to the quantity of their 
 advances and productions ; and further, that agri- 
 cultural undertakings have this particular inconve- 
 nience, that one man is not sufficient to give them 
 so great an extent as u> compensate for the small- 
 ness of his profits by the greatness of his business. 
 . I have shown afterwards First, that the most 
 fertile countries are those alone, in which the pro- 
 ducts of the quantity of land which one man can 
 manage are sufficiently considerable to make the 
 lot of the undertaker tolerable ; that it is for these 
 reasons that those countries are also the only ones 
 
60 
 
 in which we see undertakers of culture having suf- 
 ficient means and capacity ; and that they moreover 
 seldom act on their own funds, but on those of 
 others, which is always a disadvantageous situa- 
 tion for fabricators. We call them, however, great 
 farmers. 
 
 Sdly. That when the lands are less good, the 
 profits become so very slender, that we can no lon- 
 ger find but indifferent and insufficient undertakers. 
 These are the small farmers. 
 
 3dly. That when the soil is still worse, the pro- 
 fits becoming absolutely null, the owner is reduced 
 to the necessity of having no undertaker ; for half- 
 sharers are really but receivers of wages, since they 
 make no advances and furnish only their labour. 
 
 4thly. and finally, That other circumstances ren- 
 der the enterprize so small that the undertaker and 
 labourer are necessarily one and the same person, 
 Who employ no machine but their hands, and em- 
 ploy even them often elsewhere. Such are the 
 day labourers. Such a business can scarcely tempt 
 a capitalist. 
 
 There is, however, an exception to these general 
 truths. It is in favour of the culture of very pre- 
 cious productions : such as certain drugs for dying, 
 or wines highly esteemed. There great profits may 
 be made. Accordingly we sometimes see great ca- 
 pitalists buy lands suitable to these productions, 
 cultivate them themselves, draw from them all their 
 profits, and make of them immense and fortunate 
 speculations. But this exception itself confirms 
 the rule; for these productions have the merit and 
 the price of rarities. They are a real merchandise 
 
61 
 
 of luxury. Thus these speculations, although 
 agricultural, are not in the class of fabrications of 
 things 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 society, and that capitals 
 do not seek it. We should perceive that they are 
 not and never will be so employed but by those 
 who cannot or know not how to employ them other- 
 wise. The only mean of causing numerous capi- 
 tals to be employed in agriculture is, then, to cause 
 them to superabound elsewhere. This evil, if it 
 be one, is incurable ; and it is very useful to know 
 it. For however \ve 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 ; all this will 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. To 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 eat 
 in 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 absolutely necessary, the assertion 
 
62 
 
 is very inexact ; for we have other very pressing 
 wants besides that of eating, as for example that of 
 being clothed and lodged. Moreover culture itself, 
 in order to be in a small degree developed, needs 
 the succour of many other arts, such as that of 
 melting metals and fashioning wood ; and its pro- 
 ducts, to be completely appropriated to our use, 
 still require at least that of the miller and baker. 
 Here then we see many other indispensable arts. 
 
 Finally, if they have pretended to affirm, as ma- 
 ny will have it, that agriculture is the first of arts 
 in relation to riches, the pretended axiom is com- 
 pletely false. In the first place we have seen, in 
 respect to individuals, that those who devote them- 
 selves to agriculture are inevitably of the number 
 of those who make the smallest profits :. thus they 
 cannot be of the richest. Now what is true of 
 every individual cannot be false of nations, which 
 are but collections of individuals. If you doubt 
 the strength of this demonstration place on one side 
 twenty thousand men occupied in the cultivation of 
 wheat for sale, and on the other an equal number 
 occupied in making watches. Suppose that both 
 find a market for their produce, and see which will 
 be the richest : Such are Geneva and Poland. 
 
 One of the things which has most contributed 
 to the mistake of so manifest a truth is also an equi- 
 vocal expression. We take very frequently our 
 means of subsistence for our means of existence. 
 These are two very different things. Our means ' 
 of subsistence are without contradiction alimentary 
 matters ; and the quantity of these that can be pro- 
 eured in a country is the necessary limit of the 
 
65 
 
 number of men who can live therein. But our 
 means of existence is the sum of the profits we can 
 make by our labour, aud with which we can pro- 
 cure for ourselves both subsistence and other enjoy- 
 ments. It is in vain that the Polander raises a 
 great quantity of wheat: the overplus of what he 
 consumes, which he is obliged to sell to foreigners 
 at a low price, with difficulty supplies his other 
 wants. He does not live the better on it, nor mul- 
 tiply more. The Genevan, on the contrary, who 
 does not gather even a potatoe, but makes great 
 profit on the watches he fabricates, has that with 
 which he can buy grain and all other things neces- 
 sary for him ; on which he can bring up his chil- 
 dren, and likewise economise. The first, notwith- 
 standing the great quantity of his means of subsis- 
 tence, has very few of the means of existence : The 
 second, having great means of existence, procures 
 abundantly the articles of subsistence which he has 
 not, and whatever else he wants. It is therefore 
 true that these are two things, which it is very 
 wrong not to distinguish carefully. This fault 
 shows itself in many otherwise excellent works, 
 (particularly in that of Mr. Malthus on population) 
 in which it casts an ambiguity over some explica- 
 tions, valuable in all respects. It is therefore a 
 point which it was well to elucidate. 
 
 Let me not, however, be accused of mistaking the 
 importance of agriculture, and of wishing that it 
 should be neglected. In the first place I know 
 very well that, although useful in itself, it is not the 
 only thing to be desired either for individuals or 
 for societies $ and that a nation, notwithstanding 
 SO 
 
66 
 
 great means, Las but a precarious existence if it 
 depends on strangers for its subsistence. I know, 
 moreover, that although each single enterprize of 
 culture cannot be regarded but as a very small ma- 
 nufactory, as in a large country their number is 
 immense in comparison with that of ail other fabri- 
 cations, they compose a very great portion of the 
 industry and wealth of a nation. The great details 
 into which I have gone to analyse the operation of 
 all the springs of agricultural industry, prove suffi- 
 ciently the importance I attach to it ; and certainly 
 to show clearly that a profession is at the same time 
 very necessary, and very unprofitable, is the best 
 method of proving that it should be favoured. But 
 we have not yet reached this point. The only 
 object at present is to establish facts. We will 
 afterwards draw their conclusions ; and if the first 
 of these operations has been well performed the 
 second will not be difficult. Let us confine our- 
 selves then to these generalities on fabricating in- 
 dustry, and speak of commercial industry. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Of the change of place, or of Commercial Industry. 
 
 THE insulated man would fabricate to a certain 
 point, because he would labour for himself ; but he 
 would not trade, for with whom could he have 
 trade ? Commerce and society are one and the 
 same thing. Accordingly we have seen in the first 
 chapter, that society from its origin is essentially 
 nothing but a continual commerce, a perpetual se- 
 ries of exchanges of every kind, of which we have 
 rapidly indicated the principal advantages and the 
 prodigious effects. Commerce then exists long be- 
 fore there are merchants, properly so called. 
 These are agents who facilitate it, and who serve 
 it, but who do not constitute it. We may even 
 say that the exchanges which they make in their 
 commercial capacity are but preparatory exchanges; 
 for the exchange for use is not completed, has not 
 fully attained its end, until the merchandise has 
 passed from him who fabricated to him who wants 
 it, whether to consume it or to make it the subject 
 of a new fabrication ; and the latter ought at this 
 moment to be regarded as a consumer. The mer- 
 chant, properly so called, interposes between these 
 two persons, the producer and the consumer ; but 
 it is not to injure them. He is neither a parasite 
 nor an inconvenient person :- On the contrary, he 
 
68 
 
 facilitates relations, commerce, society ; for, once 
 again I repeat, all these are one and the same thing 
 between this producer and this consumer. He is 
 useful then, and consequently a producer also ; for 
 we have seen (Chapter II.) that whosoever is use- 
 ful is a producer, and that there is no other way of 
 being so. It is now to be shown how the merchant 
 is a producer of utility. But previously let us give 
 some preparatory explanations, which will be of 
 service to us in the sequel. We have in the first 
 chapter only shown the general advantages of ex- 
 change, and those of the commerce between man and 
 man. Let us render sensible those of the commerce 
 between canton an'd canton, and country and coun- 
 try ; and for this purpose let us take France for ex- 
 ample, because it is a very large and w r eli known 
 country. 
 
 Let us suppose the French nation the only one 
 in the world, or surrounded with desarts impossible 
 to be traversed. It has portions of its territory 
 very fertile in grain ; others more humid, which are 
 good only for pasturage ; others formed of arid 
 hills, which are only proper for the cultivation of 
 vines ; finally others more mountainous, which can 
 produce little else than wood. If each of those 
 portions should be reduced within itself what would 
 happen ? It is clear that in the corn districts a 
 tolerably numerous population could still be sub- 
 sisted ; because it would at least have the mean of 
 amply satisfying the first of all wants, that of nou- 
 rishment : however this is not the only want. - 
 Clothing, shelter, &c &c. are also necessary. 
 These people then will be obliged to sacrifice in 
 
69 
 
 woods, pasturage, and bad vines, much of this good 
 land; of which a much smaller quantity would have 
 sufficed to procure for them what they wanted hy 
 way of exchange, the remainder of which would 
 still have nourished many other men, or served to pro- 
 vide better for those who live there. Thus this people 
 would not be so numerous as if they enjoyed com- 
 merce, and yet they will want many things. This 
 is still more true of those who inhabit the hills suit- 
 able to vines. If they are even industrious they 
 will only make wine for their own use, not being 
 able to sell it. They will exhaust themselves in 
 unfruitful labours to produce on their arid hills 
 some grain of inferior quality, not knowing where 
 to purchase ; they will want every thing else. The 
 population, although agricultural, will be misera- 
 ble and thin. In districts of marshes and meadows, 
 too humid for corn, too cold for rice, it will be 
 much worse. They must necessarily cease to cul- 
 tivate, and be reduced to be graziers, and even to 
 nourish as many animals only as they can eat. It 
 is very true that in this situation having beasts of 
 burden, of draught, and for the saddle, to render 
 themselves formidable, they will soon become bri- 
 gands, as all erratic people are ; but this will be an 
 evil the more. As for the country of woods there 
 would be no mean of living but the chase, in propor- 
 tion and so far as they would be able to find wild 
 animals, without even thimung to preserve their 
 skins ; for what use could they make of them. This 
 however is the state of France: if you suppress all 
 correspondence.between its parts, one half is savage 
 the other badly provided. 
 
70 
 
 Let us suppose, on the contrary, this correspon- 
 dence active and easy, but always without exterior 
 relations. Then the production proper to each can- 
 ton would no longer be arrested for want of a vent, 
 nor by the necessity of pursuing in spite of locali- 
 ties labours very unfruitful but necessary, for want 
 of exchanges, in order themselves to provide either 
 well or ill for all their wants, at least for the most 
 pressing. The country of good land will produce 
 as much corn as possible ; and will send it to the 
 country of vineyards, which will produce as muqli 
 wine as can be sold. Both will supply the country 
 of pasturage, in which the animals will multiply in 
 proportion to the market, and the men in propor- 
 tion to the means of existence which this market 
 would procure for them. And these three countries 
 united would feed in the mountains the most rug- 
 ged industrious inhabitants, by whom they will be 
 furnished with wood and metak. They would in- 
 crease the quantity of flax and hemp in the north 
 to send linen cloth into the south ; which last would 
 increase their silks and oils to pay for them. The 
 smallest local advantages would be turned to pro- 
 fit. A district of flint would furnish gun-flints to 
 all the others which have none, and its inhabitants 
 would live on the produce of this supply. Another 
 of rocks alone will send mill-stones into several 
 provinces. A little spot of sand will produce mad- 
 der for all the diers. %orae fields of a certain kind 
 of clay will furnish earth for all the potteries The 
 inhabitants of the coast will set no bounds to their 
 fishing, beins; able to send their salted fish into the 
 interior ; it will be the same with sea salt, with 
 
alkalies, with marine plants, with the gums of re- 
 sinous trees. New kinds of industry will be seen 
 arising every where, not only for the exchange of 
 merchandise, but also by the communication of 
 knowledge ; for if no country produces all things 
 none invents all things. When there is communi- 
 cation, what is known in one place is known every 
 where ; and it is much readier to learn, or even to 
 perfect, than to invent : besides it is commerce itself 
 which inspires the desire of inventing, it is even its 
 great extension which alone renders possible many 
 different kinds of industry. Yet these new arts 
 occupy a multitude of men, who do not live on their 
 labour, but because that of their neighbours having 
 become more fruitful suffices to pay them. Here 
 then is the same France, lately so indigent and un- 
 inhabited, filled with a numerous and well provid- 
 ed population. All this is solely owing to the bet- 
 ter employment of every local advantage and of the 
 faculties of every individual, without a necessity for 
 the French nation to have made the smallest profit 
 at the expense of any other nation, without even a 
 possibility of its so doing, since our hypothesis sup- 
 poses it alone in the world. We will see else- 
 where what we should think of those pretended 
 profits which one people makes at the expense of 
 another, / and how we ought to appreciate them. 
 But we may affirm in advance, that they are illu- 
 sory or very small ; and that the true utility of ex- 
 terior commerce, that in comparison with which all 
 others are nothing, is to establish between different ' 
 nations the same relations which interior commerce 
 establishes between different parts of the same 
 
nation, to constitute them, if we may thus speak, ill 
 a state of society with one another; to enlarge thus 
 the extent of market for all, and by this mean in- 
 crease likewise the advantages of the interior com- 
 merce of every one. 
 
 This commerce, without doubt, can and does ex- 
 ist, to a certain point, before there are commercial- 
 ists, properly so called ; that is to say men who 
 make commerce their sole occupation ; but it could 
 not be much developed without their assistance. 
 When a man has fabricated, or is in possession of 
 some useful thing, he may it is true exchange it 
 himself, without an intermediary, for another useful 
 thing which some other man possesses ; but this is 
 not often either easy or commodious. This other 
 man may not have a desire of selling when we wish 
 to buy ; he may be unwilling to sell but a great deal 
 at a time ; he may not care for that which is offered 
 in exchange ; he may be very distant ; we may even 
 not know that he has that which we desire. In 
 fine, in the course of life one has need of an almost 
 infinite multitude of different things. If it were 
 necessary to draw directly each of them from its 
 immediate producer, one would pass their whole 
 time in going backward and forward, and even in 
 distant journeys; the inconveniences of which would 
 greatly surpass the utility of the things which would 
 be their object ; it would therefore be necessary to 
 do without them. 
 
 The merchant comes : He draws from all places 
 the things which superabound therein, ,and carries 
 thither those which they want. He is always rea- 
 dy to buy when any one wishes to sell, and to sell 
 
73 
 
 when any body wishes to buy. He keeps his mer- 
 chandise till the moment it is wanted, and retails it 
 if necessary. In short, he takes it off the hands of 
 the producer, who is encumbered with it, places it 
 within reach of the consumer who desires it ; and all 
 their relations have become easy and commodious : 
 Yet what has he done? In his commercial capacity 
 he has operated no change of form, but he has ope- 
 rated changes of place, and a great utility is pro- 
 duced. In effect, since values are the measure of 
 the degrees of utility, (see chapter 3d) it is manifest 
 that a thing carried from a place where it is at a low 
 price and brought to one in which it bears a high 
 one, has acquired by its transportation a degree of 
 utility which it had not before. 
 
 I know that this explication is so simple that it 
 appears silly, and that all this appears written for 
 children ; for men are not supposed to be ignorant 
 of facts so common and truths so trivial. But these 
 trivial truths demonstrate another very much con- 
 tested, which is, thaf whoever produces utility is a 
 producer, and that the merchant is quite as much 
 one as those to whom they have wished exclusively 
 to give this title. 1^ ow let us search what is his 
 recompense for the utility he has produced. 
 
 If we examine commercial industry it presents us 
 the same aspect as fabricating industry. Here 
 also, there is theory, application and execution ; and 
 consequently three kinds of labourers, the man of 
 science, the undertaker^ and the workman Also, 
 it is true that those whose labour is applied to the 
 most necessary things are inevitably the worst paid; 
 but it is not as in the euterprizes of agriculture. 
 SI 
 
74 
 
 The undertaker can augment his speculations inde- 
 finitely as far as the market permits, and thus 
 compensate the smallness of his profits by the extent 
 of his business. Hence the proverb, there is no 
 small trade in a large city. The head of a com- 
 mercial enterprize also gives salaries to those he 
 employs : He makes all the advances ; and he is 
 recompensed for his pains, his expenses, and his 
 risks, by the augmentation of value which his la- 
 bour has given to things an augmentation which 
 causes his sales to surpass his purchases. It is true 
 that as the undertaker of fabrication he loses, instead 
 of gaining, if being deceived in his speculations his 
 labour is unfruitful. Like him, also, he labours 
 sometimes on his own funds, sometimes on those he 
 borrows. In short, the similarity is complete, and 
 this dispenses me from entering into more details. 
 It is not yet time to discuss delicate questions, nor 
 to appreciate the merit of certain very complicated 
 combinations. As yet we have had occasion to 
 give a general glance of the eye only on the march 
 of society and the train of affairs. If we have 
 formed a just idea of them we shall soon see that 
 many things which are thought very mysterious are 
 merely perplexed by prejudice and quackery, and 
 that mere common sense is sufficient to resolve dif- 
 ficulties which appear very embarrassing when we 
 have not remounted to principles. To complete 
 the laying our foundation let us say a word of 
 money. 
 
If I H.i; A |; 
 
 ii.sr.Tv 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Of Money. 
 
 I have already spoken of the developement of in- 
 dustry, and even of that of commerce ; and I have 
 not yet said a word of money. It is because in ef- 
 fect it is not more indispensable to commerce than 
 merchants. Those are its agents, this its instru- 
 ment. But it can and does exist, to a certain point, 
 before and without these two helps, although they 
 are very useful to it. 
 
 We have seen in the third paragraph of the in- 
 troduction, and in the third chapter, which treats of 
 values, that all useful things have a determinate 
 value. They have even two ; but at this moment 
 I speak only of the conventional value, or market 
 price. All these values are measured the oue by 
 the other. When, to procure any thing whatsoe- 
 ver, one is disposed to give a double quantity of 
 any other thing whatsoever, it is evident that the 
 first is twice as much esteemed as the second. 
 Thus the relation of their value is fixed ; and one 
 can exchange or negotiate these two things at this 
 rate, without recourse to any thing intermediate. 
 We can give hay for corn, or corn for wood ; a cart- 
 load of potters clay, or of brick earth, for some 
 plates or tiles, &c. ; but it is evident that this is very 
 inconvenient, that it occasions removals so trouble- 
 
76 
 
 some as to render most affairs impracticable ; thai 
 many of these merchandises are not divisible, so as 
 to correspond well with the others; that many 
 amongst them cannot be indefinitely preserved until 
 the moment of finding employment for them, and 
 that were they preserved we are still greatly em- 
 barrassed if, as must continually happen, what we 
 have is not precisely that which suits him who pos- 
 sesses what we desire ; or if he wishes but a very 
 small quantity of ours, when we want a large quan- 
 tity of his. In the midst of all these difficulties 
 commerce then ought to be very languishing, and 
 consequently industry also. It is proper to dwell 
 a little on these inconveniencies, for we are always 
 but little affected by those which we have never ex- 
 perienced. We do not even imagine them. Hav- 
 ing never seen such an order of things, we have no 
 lively idea of it ; it appears to us almost chimerical. 
 But it has existed, and probably for a very long 
 time before that of which we still complain 5 and 
 even with reason, although it is much better. 
 
 Happily amongst all useful things there is one 
 kind which is distinguished, that of the precious 
 inetals. These like others are a merchandise, in- 
 asmuch as they have the necessary value which re- 
 sults from the labour their extraction and transpor- 
 tation have cost, and the market value given them, 
 by the possibility of making them into vases, orna- 
 ments, or different conveniencies and instruments. 
 But they have moreover the property of being easily 
 refined ; so that we know very exactly what quan- 
 tity we have of them, and that all their parts are 
 similar, which renders them very comparable, and 
 
leaves no fear of their being of different qualities. 
 Besides they are inalterable, and susceptible of be- 
 ing divided into portions as great or small as we 
 wish. Finally, they are easily transported. 
 These qualities must cause every one to prefer these 
 metals to every other useful thing, whenever we 
 only wish to preserve the value we possess for an 
 indefinite time until the moment of want. For 
 every one who has any merchandise subject to 
 damage, the quality of which may be uncertain or 
 changeable, which is of great incumbrance, or little 
 susceptible of being retailed on occasion, is natu- 
 rally disposed to exchange it for another which has 
 none of those inconveniencies. From this general 
 disposition, it will naturally result, that the mer- 
 chandise, which possesses so many advantages in 
 this respect, should become by degrees the common 
 measure of all others. This is also what has hap- 
 pened every where. This appears singular when 
 the reason is unknown, but inevitable when known. 
 It is the same in all cases. So soon as a thing is ? 
 be assured there are victorious reasons why it 
 should be, which however does not mean that 
 stronger reasons may not afterwards be discovered 
 why it should no longer be. But here it is not the 
 case. The precious metals once become the com- 
 mon and general measure, the universal type of all 
 exchanges, acquire still an advantage which they 
 had not before. It is first to have a greater market 
 value, as they have acquired a new kind of utility ; 
 (but this would not affect the object which now oc- 
 cupies us) and next their market value their price 
 becomes more constant than that of any other mer~ 
 
78 
 
 chandise. Being in constant demand in all places, 
 and on every occasion, they are not subject to the 
 variations experienced by a thing sometimes sought 
 sometimes refused : Besides they do not depend on 
 the inconstancy of the seasons, and very little on 
 that of events. Their total quantity does not 
 change, but from causes slow and rare. They are 
 then every day more confirmed in their character of 
 being the common measure of exchanges. Howe- 
 ver they are not yet money. As yet they are trans- 
 mitted only in bars and ingots, and at every change 
 of hands they must be assayed and weighed ; this 
 is troublesome. 
 
 When society is a little more perfected, the com- 
 petent authority intervenes to give to this mean of 
 exchanges a greater degree of commodiousness. It 
 divides these metals into portions adapted to the 
 most ordinary uses. It impresses on them a mark 
 which indicates the total weight ; and in this weight 
 the quantity of foreign matter which it has been 
 convenient to leave therein for the facility of fabri- 
 cation, but which is not to be counted for real value. 
 This is what is called the weight and standard. 
 In this state the metals have become completely 
 money ; and authority has done a benefit in giving 
 them this character. We shall see hereafter that it 
 has but too often done evil by other acts of its power 
 in this way. 
 
 This short explanation of the nature of money 
 shows us, first, that there can only be one metal 
 which can really be money, that is to say to the 
 value of which we refer all other values ; for in 
 every calculation there can be but one kind of unit 
 
79 
 
 which serves as a basis. This metal is silver, be- 
 cause it is this which is best adapted to the greatest 
 number of subdivisions, of which there is need in 
 exchanges. Gold is too rare, the other m etuis too 
 common. 
 
 Gold, however, comes in aid of silver in the pay- 
 ment of very great sums ; as would, also, the pre- 
 cious stones if they were divisible without a loss of 
 value. But it is only as a subsidiary that it is em- 
 ployed, and only by referring the value of gold to 
 that of silver. The proportion in Europe is nearly 
 as fifteen or sixteen to one ; but it varies, as every 
 other 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 are 
 told it is about as eighteen or twenty to one. Thus 
 there is a profit in carrying silver to China, because 
 for twelve ounces of silver you have there one ounce 
 of gold, which on return into Europe is worth fif- 
 teen ounces of silver, whereby you have gained 
 three ounces ; and, on the contrary, there is a profit 
 in carrying gold into Indostan, because for one 
 ounce of gold you there have eighteen of silver, and 
 thus you have gained three ounces of the latter me- 
 tal. Political authorities may however very well 
 coin money of gold and fix its proportion with that 
 of silver, that is to say, determine that, whenever 
 there are no stipulations to the contrary, one ounce 
 of gold or fifteen or sixteen ounces of silver shall 
 be received indifferently. It is as in judicial ac- 
 tions, they establish that when there are sums of 
 money that ought to bear an interest which has not 
 been stipulated by the parties, that interest shall be 
 
80 
 
 so much per cent. But they cannot, or at least 
 ought not to prevent individuals from regulating 
 between themselves the quantity of gold which they 
 wish to give, or receive, for a certain quantity of 
 silver, any more than from determining by agree- 
 ment the rate of interest of the sum they lend or 
 borrow. Accordingly, it is thus these two things 
 are always arranged in the great operations of com- 
 merce, even in spite of all laws to the contrary ; 
 because without it business would not be done 
 at all. 
 
 As to copper money, or that of billion,* wher- 
 ever there is one of silver it is not real money. It 
 is a false one. If it contained a sufficient quantity 
 of copper to be really worth the quantity of silver 
 to which it is made to correspond, it would be five 
 or six times as heavy as it is, which would render 
 it very inconvenient. Still this proportion would 
 vary as that of gold, and more frequently, because 
 of the more numerous uses for which copper is em- 
 ployed. Thus copper money is worth but the quan- 
 tity of silver agreed to be given in barter for it. 
 Accordingly it ought only to serve for the facilita- 
 tion of small fractions, in which this exaggeration of 
 its value would be of no importance ; because the 
 moment after it is paid away at the same rate, in 
 making it fulfill the same function. But when, as 
 has happened sometimes, the payment of large sums 
 of money with copper is authorized, it greatly wrongs 
 him who receives it ; as he can never find an oppor- 
 tunity of realising by agreement such large masses 
 
 * Billion is a mixture of a great deal of copper, and so little sil- 
 ver, that the extraction of the latter would not be worth the expense. 
 
81 
 
 at their nominal value ; but only at their real value, 
 which is five or six times less. Let us conclude, 
 then, that there can never he but one metal which 
 may be the common term of comparison, to which 
 may be referred all values ; and that this metal is 
 silver. 
 
 Since the utility of the impression, which makes 
 of a morsel of metal, a piece of money, consists in 
 the establishment of its standard and weight, we see 
 further that it was very superfluous to invent, for the 
 keeping of accounts, imaginary monies, si*ch as 
 livres, sous, and deniers, and others of this kind, 
 which however are called money of account.* It 
 would have been much clearer to say a piece of one 
 ounce, of half an ounce, of a drachm, of a grain o 
 silver; than a piece of six livres, of three livres ; of 
 twelve or of fifteen sous : We should have always 
 known the quantity of silver of which we wished to 
 speak. This idea presents itself so naturally, that 
 I am induced to believe it would have prevailed, if 
 all monies had been of the same standard : But, as 
 their degree of purity has always been very differ- 
 ent, the wish perhaps has been to have a mean of 
 expressing that such an ounce of silver was worth 
 a sixth more than such another, in saying that the 
 one is worth six livres, and the other five. Per- 
 haps, also, the expression of which I speak has been 
 rejected precisely because it was too clear: For 
 those who have participated in these matters, have 
 always wished that others should understand 
 
 * Several of these denominations have been originally names of 
 real monies, a Louis, Crqwns and Ducats. 
 
82 
 
 nothing of them, and they have their good reasons 
 for it. We shall see many proofs of it. 
 
 However this may be, these arbitrary denomina- 
 tions being once admitted and employed in all the 
 obligations contracted, we should take great care to 
 make no change of them; for when I have received 
 thirty thousand livres and have promised to repay 
 them at a certain time, if, in the interval, the gov- 
 ernment says that the quantity of silver which was 
 called three livres shall be called six, or which is the 
 same thing, if it makes crowns of six livres, which do 
 not contain more silver than was contained in the 
 crowns of three, I who pay with these new crowns do 
 not really return but the half of what I had receiv- 
 ed. This is merely an accommodation of which an 
 ^ indebted legislator wishes to avail himself with his 
 numerous creditors ; and it is to veil and disguise it 
 that he gives me such an advantage with mine, and 
 even with himself, if by chance I am his debtor. It 
 is true, he knows well that he has none ; but it has 
 an air of generality and reciprocity which resembles 
 equity and dazzles. In spite of this deception, let 
 us speak plainly, this is permitting every one to 
 rob to enable himself to rob ; and it is, as we must 
 acknowledge, what almost all governments have so 
 frequently done with so much audacity and so little 
 moderation, that, for example, what is now called in 
 France a livre, and which formerly really was a 
 pound of silver of twelve ounces, is scarcely one out 
 of eighty-one parts thereof at present, when the 
 mark is worth fifty-four livres ; government, then 
 at different times has stolen eighty parts out of eigh- 
 ty-one which it owed ; and if tjiere still exists a 
 
83 
 
 perpetual annuity of one livre, established in those 
 ancient times in consideration of twenty fivres re- 
 ceived, it is paid at present with one part out of eigh- 
 ty-one of^what was originally promised, and of what 
 is honestly due. If at this time none of these annui- 
 ties remain, it is because they have been successive- 
 ly reimbursed in the same manner as interests are at 
 present. What is more frightful in such legal ini- 
 quity, is that it is not merely to permit injustice, it 
 is to enjoin it, to enforce it. For, except in rare 
 circumstances, an individual of the greatest probi- 
 ty is obliged to avail himself of the odious permis- 
 sion given him, since, every one using it against 
 him, he would soon be ruined, and even insolvent. 
 Thus he has but a choice between two bankrupt- 
 cies, and he ou^ht to decide in favour of that which 
 / ~ 
 
 the law authorises. 
 
 We will follow no farther the moral effects of such 
 laws ; this is not the place ; and, besides, they are 
 sufficiently sensible, their economical effects are 
 these : First, all the creditors, who are reimbursed, 
 are suddenly impoverished ; and all the debtors, 
 including the government, are enriched by their loss- 
 es. Tlujs it is an extraordinary levy of mone on 
 a single class of citizens ; which is even very une- 
 qually apportioned amonst them, and is further aug- 
 mented uselessly by the whole portion which goes to 
 the profit of other citizens, who find themselves in a 
 position like that of the government, whose apparent 
 interests are the motives of the measure. 
 
 Secondly, all the creditors who are not actually 
 reimbursed their capitals are impoverished in like 
 manner ; because their rent is discharged with the 
 
same nominal value, but with a less real one. Here 
 the thesis changes for the government. It is of the 
 number of those creditors frustrated in the whole of 
 what it receives in annual imposts ; for they are 
 paid with the same quantity of money, but with 
 one-half less of effective silver, if it has diminished 
 the value of money by an half. In truth, as it has 
 the power in its hands, it soon doubles the existing 
 imposts, and thus thinks itself at par ; and that it 
 has a clear gain of what it has avoided paying. 
 
 However, it is not so ; for the third effect of this 
 fine operation is to cause a fear that at every mo- 
 ment it may recommence, and that no further reli- 
 ance can be had in plighted faith ; to excite by this 
 mean inquietude in all relations, and eventually to 
 diminish all industrious and commercial specula- 
 tions. Thus the public suffers, national riches di- 
 minish, and a great part of the imposts become in- 
 effectual ; for the labour which paid them is decreas- 
 ed, and he who gains nothing can contribute no- 
 thing. Moreover, the government has always need 
 of being furnished with many supplies and advan- 
 ces; which it cannot exact by force. The price 
 is doubled, if the value of the money is diminished 
 one-half. This is quite plain. But, besides, every 
 thing has become dear and scarce; and, what is 
 more, in bargaining it is made likewise to pay for 
 the fear it has created of its being a second time 
 wanting in good faith. Thus its expenses are aug- 
 mented in a greater proportion than its revenues, 
 even after it has doubled the imposts. 
 
 In last result it has committed a robbery, which 
 has caused to itself much more evil than it has pro- 
 
85 
 
 duced good. Yet it is this which for a long time 
 was very generally regarded as a wise operation of 
 finance. It is here, then, we may well wonder how 
 men are the dupes of words. To the 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 
 bearing insignificant names. It is very probable 
 that then they would have seen, that half an ounce 
 could never become an ounce. 
 
 Yet in truth, this becomes doubtful, when we 
 see illusions, more gross and injurious than these, 
 still succeed with many men, or at least be only 
 imperfectly distinguished. This reflection leads us 
 directly 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 experienqe of its inevitable 
 effects. 
 
 To defend an injustice it is always necessary to 
 rest it on an error. This is an universal rule. 
 Those who have wished to defraud their creditors 
 of a part of the money they owed them, by dimin- 
 ishing the quantity of silver contained in the money 
 with which they expected to pay them, have all 
 pretended that silver has no value in itself, as we 
 cannot drink or eat it ; 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 whether it be put on a greater or smal- 
 er quantity of metal. One might answered them, if 
 silver has no value, why do you retain that which you 
 
86 
 
 owe ? You have no occasion for it. Give it to us 
 first, then yon may put your impression on pieces 
 of wood if you please, and you will see the effect 
 it will produce. It does not seem necessary to be 
 very sharp sighted to devise this overwhelming an- 
 swer. Yet it has not been made because it was not 
 so easy to prove directly that silver, as all useful 
 things, has a proper and necessary value : indeed, 
 to demonstrate this incontestably, it was necessary 
 to remount, as we have done, and perhaps as has 
 never been done before, to the first and only cause 
 of all value, labour. 
 
 This foolish notion (we must call things by their 
 names) that money is but a sign is then maintained, 
 and still repeated every day. Many writers give 
 no other name to money; and persons who think 
 themselves historians and politicians gravely give 
 you an account of the system of law and discuss it at 
 full length, without perceiving, after a hundred years 
 of reflection, that it is solely on this notion it w r as 
 founded, and that all the rest consists but in acces- 
 sories, imagined to mask this foundation.* The 
 notable principle, then, of which we are speaking is 
 neither abandoned nor proscribed. If they no lon- 
 ger avail themselves of it to degrade the coins, it is 
 not because they are ashamed of it ; it is because 
 they have found a way of making a more complete 
 application of it. For, in fact, in the most false of 
 coins ; there remains always a little silver. In that 
 which is now substituted for it there is not any; 
 
 *lt is for tins reason that Law Mmself, when the Abbey Tcrrasson 
 proposed to him to reimburse the Catholic Church with his paper, an- 
 swerecl the Roman Clergy are not such fools. 
 
87 
 
 this is still better. They have not followed the 
 counsel we just now gave, of putting the stamp of 
 the prince on pieces of wood ; they put it on paper, 
 and this amounts to the same. The multiplied re- 
 lations of perfected society have suggested this idea 
 and likewise serve to mask the fraud. Let us ex- 
 plain this. 
 
 Paper, like every thing else, has no necessary 
 value, hut that which it has cost to fabricate it; and 
 no market value, but its price in the shop as paper. 
 When I hold a note, or an obligation of any kind, 
 of a solvent person, to pay me at sight an hundred 
 ounces of silver, this paper has only the real value 
 of a piece of paper. It has not that of the hundred 
 ounces of silver which it promises me. It is for me 
 only the sign that I shall receive these hundred oun- 
 ces of silver when I wish ; in truth, when this sign 
 is of an indubitable certainty, I am not anxious 
 about realizing it. 1 may even, without taking this 
 trouble, pass it by agreement to another person, who 
 will be equally tranquil with myself, and who may 
 even prefer the sign to the thing signified ; because 
 it is lighter and more portable. We have not yet 
 either the one or the other any real value, (1 count 
 for nothing that of the piece of paper) but \ve are as 
 sure of having it when we wish, as with the money 
 we are sure of having a dinner when we shall be 
 hungry. It is this that induces us both to say. 
 that this paper is the same thing as the silver. 
 But this is not exact ; for the paper only promises, 
 and the silver alone is the value itself. 
 
 Proceeding on this equivoque, the government 
 comes and says, you all agree that the paper of a 
 
88 
 
 rich man is equal to silver. Mine, for much stron- 
 ger reasons, should have the same property, for I 
 am richer than any individual; and moreover, you 
 agree that it is my impression alone which gives to 
 silver the quality of being the sign of all values ; 
 my signature communicates to this paper the same 
 virtue. Thus it is in all respects a real money. By 
 a surplus of precaution, they do not want inventions 
 to prove; that the paper about to be emitted really 
 represents immence values. It is hypothecated, 
 sometimes on a considerable quantity of national 
 domains, sometimes on the profits of a commercial 
 company, which are to have prodigious success ; 
 sometimes on a sinking fund, which cannot fail to 
 produce marvellous effects ; sometimes on all these 
 together. Urged by arguments so solid, all who 
 hope that this operation will enable government to 
 grant them gifts, and all its actual creditors, who 
 fear that without this expedient they will not be 
 paid at all, who hope to have this paper among 
 the first, and to pass it away very soon, before it is 
 discredited ; and who moreover, calculating that if 
 they lose something by it, they may amply indem- 
 nify themselves by subsequent affairs, do not fail 
 to say they are fully convinced that the paper is ex- 
 cellent; that it is an admirable invention, which will 
 secure the safety of the state ; that they are all rea- 
 dy to take it: that they like it as well as silver; 
 that their only embarrassment would be if they 
 should meet with persons stubborn and distrustful, 
 as there will always be, who would not be willing 
 tn receive it ; that to prevent this inconvenience it 
 be necessary to compel every body to do as 
 
89 
 
 they do, and that then all difficulties will have van* 
 ished. The public itself prejudiced by so many 
 sophisms., which have such numerous supporters, 
 at first relishes the measure, then desires it, and 
 persuades itself that one must be absurd or evil in- , 
 tentioned not to approve it. Thus they make a real 
 paper money, that is to say a paper which every one 
 has a right to give and is obliged to take as good 
 money ; and it is not perceived that it is precisely 
 the force they employ to render this paper better, 
 which radically vitiates it. 
 
 In effect the government, which has only created 
 it to liberate itself, makes in the first place enough 
 to extinguish all its debts. It is commanded to he 
 received, people are disposed to do it; it circulates 
 with facility, it is in every one's hands concurrently 
 with silver. It appears even at first to increase the 
 activity of commerce, by multiplying capitals. 
 Moreover it is only employed in large payments^ 
 &nd in the placing of funds. Thus the daily ser- 
 vice and that infinite multitude of small exchanges 
 which constitute the habitual march of society, con- 
 tinue as usual, and every body is satisfied. 
 
 Afterwards the same authority uses the same 
 mean for its ordinary expenses. It observes neces- 
 sarily less economy, conscious of resources always 
 ready. It embarks in enterprizes, either of war, 
 politics or administration, of which it would not 
 have dared to think, knowing well that without this 
 facility they would surpass its abilities. The paper 
 is then greatly multiplied. The contractors for the 
 government are the first to say that all things have 
 grown very dear, that they must have much higher 
 23 
 
90 
 
 prices. They are careful hot to avow, that it is be- 
 cause a promise is not silver, and that the promise 
 begins to appear doubtful. They 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 jealousy of foreigners, who 
 will only deal with them for ready money, for the 
 objects they are obliged to draw from them. 
 It is impossible not to yield to such good reasons : 
 and, above all, to necessity. The expenses 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 acknowledged and known 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. Salaries are augmented parti- 
 cularly those of the officers of government; which 
 is by so much the more burthened; the others suffer 
 horribly. At 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. This embarrasses it, but this is 
 not the moment to augment the public burthens It 
 is easy to create paper to supply the deficiency it 
 experiences. It prefers this mean ; hence a new 
 cause of emission and depreciation. 
 
91 
 
 The difference between paper ami silver encreas- 
 ing progressively, no one ventures to give any cre- 
 dit, or to make any loan ; they do not even venture 
 to buy in order to sell again ; because they know 
 not at what price they may be able to resell; all 
 commerce languishes. The proportion or rather 
 the disproportion continually increases; it arrives 
 to that point that the daily transactions for things 
 of the first necessity, and which require only small 
 sums paid in silver, become impossible for an hun- 
 dred francs in paper would be given rather than 
 twenty-five in silver; and, for the same reason, if 
 you owe twelve francs nobody will give you the 
 change on a note of an hundred. There is univer- 
 sal outcry and complaint. Disputes are indetermi- 
 nable, because both parties are right. The evil is 
 supposed to be remedied by making notes for the 
 smallest sums, and they are made,* but nothing is 
 gained by this, for from this moment we no longer 
 see a crown ; and so soon as the most usual things 
 are paid for with paper, they rise to a price propor- 
 tioned to the discredit of the paper, that is to say, 
 to such that nobody can afford them. The public 
 authority is then inevitably forced to rate the neces- 
 saries of life. 
 
 Then society ceases and universal brigandage 
 begins. All is fraud or punishment. The govern- 
 ment lays requisitions every where, and the people 
 plunder; for nothing but force can oblige a sale at 
 loss, or to part with things which they fear soon to 
 
 * We have seen them even for five sous. You may judge whether 
 it be possible to superintend thero, and if three-fourths of them were 
 not false. 
 
want themselves. In fact a general want takes 
 place ; for no one makes new provisions, or new 
 fabrications, for fear of suffering new spoliations, 
 All trades are abandoned. There is no longer pos- 
 sibility of living on the produce of regular industry : 
 every one subsists on what he can conceal, or on 
 what he can lay his hands, as in an enemy's country. 
 The poorest 'die in crowds. We may say in the 
 strictest sense, that society is dissolved ; for there is 
 no longer any free exchanges. 
 
 Thqre is no longer any necessity for small notes, 
 for the largest hardly suffice for the smallest sums. 
 We have seen three thousand livres paid for a pair 
 of shoes, and been very happy to obtain them in se- 
 cret at this price ; for force may well oblige a thing 
 which exists to be given for nothing, but it cannot 
 oblige it to be made. Having reached this point, 
 the government on the contrary must give a very 
 high nominal value to every piece of its paper, not 
 merely that it may be of some use, but that, even to 
 itself it may represent a little more real value than 
 its fabrication has cost. This is the reason that in 
 France, towards the last of the existence of paper 
 money, government thought proper to make man- 
 dates, which were nothing but assignats of a new 
 form ; but to which was attributed a value an hun- 
 dred times greater than that of the others, without 
 which they would not have paid the cost of making 
 them. Thus the process reached that pass that a 
 note of a hundred francs in assignats, for example, 
 had not effectively the real value of the piece of pa- 
 per on which it was written ; and it would have 
 been worth more for him who received it if blank, 
 
93 
 
 or rather if he had received the price which it had 
 cost.* 
 
 Such a fact appears incredible; yet we have all 
 witnessed it, and it clearly proves two important 
 truths : The one, that when we endeavor to go con- 
 trary to the nature of things, we are inevitably push- 
 ed to the most monstrous extremities; the other, 
 that it is as impossible to give to things a real va- 
 lue which they have not, as to take from them the 
 natural and necessary value which they have, which 
 consists, (we cannot too often repeat it) in the Jaboiir 
 which their production has cost. 
 
 In vain would it be said that paper money, 
 may be used, without being abused to this excess, 
 constant experience proves the contrary ; and, inde- 
 pendently of experience, reason demonstrates, that 
 once abused, we are forced to abuse it more ; and 
 that it is not made money, that is to say having a 
 forced circulation, but on purpose to be abused. 
 For when you leave it to a free course, the moment 
 in which a fear that you cannot fulfill your engage- 
 ments occasions an unwillingness to receive it, in 
 dicates the moment in which effectively you begin to 
 form engagements beyond your resources, that is to 
 say to abuse it ; when you give it a forced currency, 
 it is because you are unwilling to be warned of that 
 moment, and are determined to go beyond it, that 
 is to say to enter into engagements which you can- 
 not fulfill. In a word when your paper is good, ii> 
 is useless to oblige people to receive/it; when bad, 
 it is iniquitous and absurd to force it to be received 
 
 *It is true that these mandats were the end of all ; that they lasted 
 but a few days ; and that they never had a real currency : for no fear 
 <>f punishment could determine any one to take theirs at any price.,. 
 
94 
 
 as good. No solid answer can ever be given to this 
 dilemma. Mirabeau bad therefore great reason to 
 utter the celebrated phrase, which he too much 
 forgot afterwards : All paper money is a phrensy 
 of despotism run mad. 
 
 We have seen that the consequences of the mad- 
 ness are still more fatal than those of the debasement 
 of coins. The reason is simple. This debasement* 
 when not repeated, has but a momentary effect, by 
 which many suffer as by a hail storm, and others 
 profit as by a windfall ; but all things resume quick- 
 ly their ordinary course. On the contrary, the gra- 
 dual depreciation of paper moneyed uring all the. 
 time of its existence, produces the effect of an infi- 
 nite number of successive debasements continued 
 to total annihilation; and during all this time, no 
 one knowing on what to calculate, the progress of 
 society is completely interverted. Add to this, that 
 paper is made to much larger amounts than even 
 bad money is coined. Thus the evil is still much 
 greater. 
 
 Let us conclude, that paper money is the most 
 culpable and most fatal of all fraudulent bankrupt- 
 cies ; that the adulteration of metallic monies comes 
 next; and that when a government is sufficiently 
 unfortunate to be no longer able to pay its debts, it 
 can do nothing better than declare frankly its insol- 
 vency, and compound faithfully with its creditors, 
 as an imprudent but honest merchant. The evil is 
 much less ; reputation remains, and confidence is 
 soon renewed three inestimable advantages. 
 Wherever there is candour, and probity, there is 
 remedy for misfortune. This is one of the nuiner- 
 
95 
 
 ous points at which economy and morality are join- 
 ed: and which render them but different parts of 
 the same subject, the case of that one of our intel- 
 lectual faculties which we call the Will. 
 
 After having thus spoken of silver, its uses, 
 Its real value, of the danger of pretending to replace 
 it by fictitious values, it is proper to turn our thoughts 
 for a moment to what is called the interest of money. 
 This subject like many others would be very sim- 
 ple, if endeavours had not often been used to ob- 
 scure it ; and if it had never been treated on, but 
 after the preliminaries with which we have preced- 
 ed it. 
 
 Since we rent horses, coaches, furniture, houses, 
 lands, in a word whatever is useful and has a value, 
 we may well rent money also which is likewise 
 useful, has a value, and is exchanged every day for 
 all these things. This rent of money is what is 
 called interest. It is as legitimate as every othe? 
 rent. It ought to be equally free. There is no 
 more reason why public authority should determine 
 its rate, than that of the lease of a house or a farm. 
 This principle is so evident, that it ought never to 
 have met with any difficulty. 
 
 There is nevertheless what is called legal inter- 
 est; it is that which tribunals adjudge in judiciary 
 cases, in cases in which the parties have not been 
 able to agree, but in which it is still just that the 
 debtor should pay some interest. It is very pro- 
 per that the law should have determined it before- 
 hand. It should neither be too high nor too low ; 
 not too high, that the debtor of good faith, who 
 wished to pay his debts, but has been prevented by 
 
circumstances not depending on himself, should 
 not be aggrieved for having been obliged to detain 
 his money. Not too low, that the debtor of bad 
 faith, who has had recourse to chicanery to defer 
 payment, may not gain by having retained the dis- 
 position of his funds. In a word, it should be such 
 that neither the creditor nor the debtor should be in- 
 jured. For this purpose, the law should fix it as 
 it is to be presumed that the parties would have 
 .agreed on, that is to say conformably to the most or- 
 dinary rate in arialgous circumstances. But once 
 again I repeat it, this legal interest should be of no 
 consideration, whenever the parties have themselves 
 been able to make their agreements. The public au- 
 thority should never intervene in particular trans- 
 actions, but to ensure their execution, and to lend 
 its support to the fidelity of engagements. 
 
 It is true however, that -it is the interest of society 
 in general, that the interest of money should be low. 
 First, because^ all the rents, paid by industrious 
 men to capitalists, are so far funds taken from the 
 laborious class for the profit of the idle. Secondly, 
 because, when these rents are high, they absorb so 
 large a part of the profits of industrious enterprises 
 that many become impossible. Thirdly, because 
 the higher these rents are", the greater the number of 
 those who live without doing any thing. But all 
 this is not a reason for government to fix the rate of 
 interest ; for we have already seen that society has 
 absolutely the same motives for desiring that the 
 rents of land should be at a low rate;* and yet no 
 
 * Agriculture is no where so flourishing 1 and advancing- as in those 
 countries where the rents of land are as yet nothing; because there 
 
97 
 
 one has ever proposed to declare usurious, and illicit 
 the rents of farms which exceed a certain price. 
 Moreover, to fix the rate of interest is not a mean 
 of diminishing it; on the contrary, it is only in some 
 manner to invite to dissimulation : for the l^jider will 
 always require the most he ca get for the enjoy- 
 ment of his capital ; and he will also be indemnified for 
 the risque he runs in eluding an imprudent and even 
 an unjust law. The only mean of diminishing the 
 price of the interest of money is to make the mass of 
 a nation rich, that thus there may be large sums to 
 be lent, and that industrious men nevertheless have 
 little need of borrowing. 
 
 Instead of fixing the rate of interest, we might 
 perhaps extend to this kind of convention the prin- 
 ciple of damage for more than the half, (lezion 
 (Poutre moitie) which, in certain cases, authorises 
 the rescission of engagements; but the application of 
 
 are still lands belonging to nobody ; for then all the produce of these 
 lands is for him who cultivates them. See the western part of the 
 United States of America. 
 
 This should teach us to appreciate the sagacity of those profound 
 politicians, who pretend that it is highly advantageous to a nation 
 that its landed property should sell very high ; because, say they, 
 it follows that its soil, which is a large part of its capital, has a great 
 value. They have no doubts on the subject. 
 
 However there are two ways of understanding the expression, very 
 dear. Do they wish to say, that it is desirable that land should be 
 sold high, in proportion to the rent which may be drawn from it? 
 that is true ; for this proves that the interest of money is low, and 
 that the idle take but little from the laborer. 
 
 But do they wish to say that it is good that an acre of land should 
 sell dear in proportion to what it will produce ? that is false ; for this 
 price is so much taken from him who is going to work this acre, thus 
 it is to say, that it is advantageous to take from this useful man apart 
 of his means, and often to render his enterprize impossible by aug- 
 menting its expenses. Experience and reason declare equally against 
 this mistake. 
 
98 
 
 this principle would often be very embarrassing in 
 matters of loan : it would require attention to many 
 circumstances of difficult estimate, and especially to 
 the degree of risk run by the lender in parting with 
 his fimdr. At least, I 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 
 would always prefer that individuals should be 
 left entirely free in their conventions. 
 
 To 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 confounded; let us examine 
 them separately. 
 
 Exchange, or the service of an exchanger, is an 
 operation the most simple. It is to barter money 
 for money when it is required. It is only necessary 
 to know how much pure gold or silver is contained 
 by each of the two to render the same quantity h& 
 receives, and to take a stipulated reward for the 
 small service he performs ; or it is to barter ingots 
 for money. This 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 sovereign. If the standard va- 
 lue of metals were as easy to be established as their 
 weights, the personal interest, the most inventive in 
 fishing in troubled water, could not throw the least 
 obscurity on a similar transaction; and, notwith- 
 standing this small difficulty of the assay, it is still suf- 
 ficiently clear when nothing else is mingled with it, 
 
99 
 
 because the two things to he exchanged are present. 
 It is only requisite to value both and to barter. But 
 the operation of the exchanger is often complicated 
 with that of the hanker. Let us now explain this. 
 
 The fundion of the banker is to enable you to re- 
 ceive in another town, the mon'ey which you deliver 
 him in this in which you are. In this he renders you 
 a service, for if you have need of your money in that 
 other town, either to pay debts or to expend there, 
 you must send or carry it thither; and this occasions 
 expense and risque. The banker, who has a cor- 
 respondent there, gives you a note called a bill of 
 exchange, in virtue of which the correspondent re- 
 mits you your amount. On an inverse occasion, the 
 same correspondent gives to another person a like 
 Kill of exchange on your banker; thus they are quits, 
 and they have obliged two persons ; and, as every 
 service merits a reward, they have retained at each 
 time for their recompense a stipulated portion of the 
 money transported. Such is the service and the 
 profit of a banker. 
 
 I have always been astonished that writers, who 
 have given long dissertations on this negotiation, 
 who know its utility, who have exaggerated its im- 
 portance, have mistaken the increase of value, which 
 a merchandise receives by a change of place; and 
 have refused the quality of producer to the merchant 
 who transports it: for in this case, which is the most 
 simple, it k very clear that when you, who live in 
 Paris, owe an hundred francs at Marseilles, you 
 would rather give your banker an hundred and one 
 francs, than to carry yourself or send your hundred 
 francs to Marseilles : and, reciprocally, if you had 
 there an hundred francs, you would rather receive 
 
100 
 
 ninety-nine of them at Paris of the same banker, 
 than go to Marseilles and receive the whole amount. 
 Merchandise delivered at its destination has then 
 really a value which it had not before ; it is this 
 which engages you to give your banker a recom- 
 pence, although it costs him nothing to render yoa 
 this service. 
 
 To this first profit he commonly adds another. 
 You give him your money to day, the bill which he 
 gives you in return will only be payable in fifteen 
 or twenty days, more or less ; time must be allowed 
 for its arrival ; the correspondent must be apprized: 
 he might not have the funds 5 pretexts are never 
 wanting to lengthen the delay. However it is not 
 till the day of payment that the banker credits the 
 sum to his associate. Thus, during all the interval, 
 he enjoys your money gratuitously and can put it to 
 use ; and as money bears an interest it is a profit suf- 
 ficiently considerable : for it is plain, that if he has 
 successively eighteen or twenty similar commissions ; 
 he has gained the interest of the sum for a whole 
 year. 
 
 To these calculations must be added a third. 
 when many Marseillese are indebted to the Pari- 
 sians, they all demand bills payable at Paris. 
 These become scarce ; the bankers may be embar- 
 rassed in furnishing them, their correspondents be- 
 ing already in advance with them. They take oc- 
 casion hence to demand of you, independent of their 
 commission, an hundred and two or three ounces of 
 silver for procuring an hundred to your order at Pa- 
 rk ; and you, who are under a necessity of acquit- 
 ting yourself, will give it, not being able to do it 
 
101 
 
 for less. For a contrary reason, if Parisians have 
 at the same time need of bills on Marseilles, the 
 bankers of Paris might for an hundred ounces of 
 silver give them a bill for an hundred and two or 
 three ounces, since this is the price put on them at 
 Marseilles. But as they alone are well acquainted 
 with these fluctuations, they always combine to pre- 
 vent the individuals from the whole profit, and to 
 throw on them more than a necessary loss ; and 
 this is a new source of profit for them. 
 
 This is what is called not very properly, in my 
 opinion, the course of exchange ; and what ought 
 rather, as I think, to be called the course of bank- 
 ing : for these two cities being in the same country, 
 and employing the same money, there is no ex- 
 change, but merely a transportation of specie, which 
 is the proper office of the bank. This course is 
 said to be at par, when an hundred ounces of silver 
 in one place are paid with an hundred in another; 
 and that it is high or low, when it requires more or 
 less,* always independently of the banker's com- 
 mission. 
 
 * When less than a hundred francs are sufficient to pay an hun- 
 dred elsewhere, it is said that the exchange is low. This is the case 
 with the city which, compensation being made, still remains creditor, 
 because apparently it has sent to the other more merchandise than 
 it has received. This low exchange gives it an advantage in impor- 
 tation, for it can pay for the same things with less silver. But for 
 the same reason it is disadvantageous if it continues to export, for it 
 will require more money to pay them for the same quantity of mer- 
 chandise. This is equivalent to a rise of price, and diminishes the 
 demand. 
 
 This sole consideration, independently of many others, shows how 
 ridiculous it is to believe that a country can always and constantly 
 \port more tbnn it import?. It -would be quickly arrested merely 
 
log 
 
 The- operation of exchange, on the contrary, min- 
 gles itself with that of hanking, and, complicates it 
 when funds are to he transported from one country 
 to another : for the sum which is received at Paris, 
 and for which a bill is given on London, has been 
 deposited in French money and will be paid in En- 
 glish money. We must ascertain then the concor- 
 dance of these two monies, and determine how 
 much pure metal is contained in each, according to 
 the known laws of their fabrication. We must es- 
 timate too, at least approximately, what the pieces 
 of money in the two countries may have lost since 
 they have been in circulation. Hence it is that all 
 other things being equal, less is demanded to pay 
 the same sum in any country, when the money is 
 ancient, 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. This 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 
 value ; and if pedantry and charlatanism had not 
 concealed and disguised notions so common, under 
 a multitude of barbarous names and cant terms, 
 such as the initiated alone can understand. 
 
 by the course of exchange. But we are not yet come to the exami- 
 nation of the reveries on the pretended balance of commerce ; it suf- 
 fices to have made this observation. 
 
103 
 
 Bankers render yet another kind 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 payment. This is called dis- 
 count. Sometimes they receive from an individual 
 effects not demandable other than bills of exchange; 
 as bills of credit of long terms, title papers of pro- 
 perty, and hypothecations on land; and guaran- 
 teed by these securities they advance money to him, 
 making him pay an interest higher or lower. At 
 other times, knowing a man to be solvent, they 
 give him for a retribution a credit on them for a 
 determinate sum; and they make themselves the 
 agents of all his business, undertake to collect all 
 his credits and to pay all his debts. These 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. All this, never- 
 theless, is ordinarily comprehended under the namefc 
 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 companies. Their ordinary pre- 
 text is, that transacting thus much more business 
 they may be content with a smaller 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 surely it is 
 not their intention that every part of their funds 
 
should yield tliein a smaller profit. The truth is, 
 that, on the contrary, they wish, by getting almost 
 all the business into their own hands, to avoid com- 
 petition, and make greater profits without any obsta- 
 cle. Government, on their part, are much disposed 
 to favor the establishment of these large companies, 
 and to give them privileges to the detriment of therr 
 rivals, and of the public, with the expectation of re- 
 ceiving from them loans, either gratuitous or at a 
 low rate which these never refuse. It is thas that 
 the one sells its protection and the other buys it; 
 and this is already a very great evil. 
 
 But these companies are of a much greater incon- 
 venience. They emit bills payable at sight, bear- 
 ing no interest, which they give for ready money. 
 All those who depend on them, or are connected 
 with them, (and they are very numerous) take their 
 notes with eagerness and offer them to others. The 
 public even which has great confidence in their sol- 
 vency receives them willingly as very convenient. 
 Thus they spread with facility, and are multiplied 
 extremely. The company reaps in this an enormous 
 gai% because the whole sum represented by these 
 bills has cost it nothing but the fabrication of its pa- 
 per, and yield it a profit as ready money. Howe- 
 ver this is not yet an inconvenience, because these 
 bills are always realized the moment they are de- 
 manded. 
 
 But soon the government, which has created it but 
 for this purpose, asks of this company enormous 
 loans ; it dares not and cannot refuse them, because 
 it depends on government to overthrow it by with- 
 drawing its support for a moment. To satisfy this 
 
105 
 
 demand, obliged to create an excessive quantity 
 of new notes ; it delivers them to the government, 
 which employs them very quickly ; the circulation 
 is overdone with them ; inquietude follows, every 
 one wishes to realise them. It is evidently impos, 
 sible, unless government repays that which it has 
 borrowed ; and this it does not do. The company 
 can then but invoke its support. It asks to be au- 
 thorized not to pay its notes, and to give them a 
 forced circulation. It obtains its request, and soci- 
 ety finds itself in the full state of paper money, of 
 which we have seen the consequences. It is thus 
 that the *caisse d'escompte produced the assignats 
 in France. It is thus that the bank of London has 
 brought England to the same state in which it is at 
 this moment. It is thus all privileged companies 
 end : they are radically vicious ; and every thing 
 essentially bad always terminates badly, notwith- 
 standing its transient successes ; all things hang to- 
 gether, and necessity is invincible. It \vould be 
 easy to show that were 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 but very little to the mass of national 
 industry and wealth. But it is not necessary to 
 enter now into details ; it suffices for us to have 
 seen in a general manner the progression of affairs. 
 Before going further, let us look back on the road 
 over which we have travelled. it is the mean of 
 not going wrong as we advance. 
 
 * A bank existing at P:;ris at the commencement of the revolution 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Reflections on what precedes. 
 
 MANY 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 common ; that I have disposed my chapters in 
 an order which does not appear methodical ; and, 
 above all, that I have abandoned the subjects which 
 I have treated without giving them all the develope- 
 ments of which they are susceptible. But I pray 
 them 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 will, forming a sequel to a treatise on 
 the understanding. My 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 existence, 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. Now to execute 
 such a design it is not the abundance of ideas we 
 are to seek, but their severe enchainment, and a 
 course uninterupted and without chasms. Still how- 
 ever I am persuaded that, without perceiving it, we 
 are already much further advanced than we are 
 aware. 
 
In fact, we have seen that the property of being 
 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 nature. Here then is already a great 
 source of rambling disquisition and of declamation 
 totally drained. 
 
 We 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 sc 
 cond observation, w r e have likewise seen that the 
 state of society is not only very advantageous to us. 
 but is also so natural to us that we could not other- 
 wise exist. Here then is another subject of com- 
 mon place notions, very false, exhausted. 
 
 Uniting these two points, the examination of the 
 eftect of the employment of our force, and of that of 
 the increase of efficacy given to it by a state 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 word. This, also, armihi 
 lates a great subject of ambiguity. 
 
 Strengthened by these premises, after some elu 
 delations 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 5 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. This likewise 
 leads us to appreciate 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 of 
 this 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 monies and their economical transportation, 
 under the name of banking, give place. 
 
 From whence it follows, if 1 am not mistaken, 
 that we have acquired clear and certain ideas on all 
 the important circumstances in the formation of our 
 riches. Nothing then remains but to see in what 
 manner their distribution amongst individuals is 
 effected, and in what manner their consumption is 
 effected, that is to say the use we make of them. 
 We shall then have an abridged but complete ttea- 
 tise on all the results of the employment of our 
 means of existence. 
 
 This second part, the distribution of riches in so- 
 ciety, is perhaps that one of the three which gives 
 place to the most delicate considerations, and in 
 which we meet with phenomena the most compli- 
 cated. However, if we have well elucidated the 
 first, we shall see the obscurity of this fly before us, 
 and all dissipate with facility. Let us endeavour 
 to follow constantly the Hue that guides us. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Of the distribution of our Riches amongst indi- 
 viduals. 
 
 HITHERTO we have considered man collectively ; 
 it remains to examine him distributively. Under 
 this second point of view he presents an aspect ve- 
 ry different from the first. The human species, 
 taken in mass, is rich and powerful, and sees a 
 daily increase of its resources and its means of ex- 
 istence ; but it is not so with individuals. All in 
 their quality of animated beings are condemned to 
 suffer and to die : All, after a short period of in- 
 crease, should they even live through it, and after 
 some momentary successes, should they obtain 
 them, relapse and decline ; and the most fortunate 
 amongst them can do little more than diminish their 
 sufferings and retard their term. Beyond this their 
 industry cannot go. It is not useless to have this 
 gloomy but true picture of our condition present to 
 our minds. It will teach us not to desire impossi- 
 bilities, and not to consider as a consequence of our 
 faults what is a necessary result of our nature. It 
 brings us back from romance to history. 
 
 There is more. These resources, these riches, 
 so insufficient for happiness, are also very unequally 
 divided amongst us ; and this is inevitable. We 
 have seen that property exists in nature : for it is 
 
112 
 
 impossible that every one should not be, the proprie- 
 tor of his individuality and of his faculties. The in 
 equality in these is not less : for it is impossible that 
 all individuals should be alike, and have the same 
 degree of force, intelligence and happiness. This 
 natural inequality is extended and manifested in 
 proportion as our means are developed and diversi- 
 fied. While they are very limited it is less strik- 
 ing, but it exists. It is an error not to have recog- 
 nised this among savage nations. With them par- 
 ticularly it is very grievous : for it is that of force 
 without restraint. 
 
 If, to banish from society this natural inequality, 
 we undertake to disregard natural property, and op- 
 pose ourselves to its necessary consequences, ii 
 would 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 too 
 insupportable to be durable ; and they would not 
 accomplish their purposes. During their continu- 
 ance, we should see as many quarrels for a greater 
 share of the common goods, or a smaller part of 'the 
 common trouble, as can exist among % us for the de- 
 fence of the property of individuals ; and the only 
 effect 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 
 know all they tell us of the community of property 
 with the Spartans ; but I reply boldly it is not trtfe 
 because it is impossible. I know well that at 
 Sparta the rights of individuals were very little re- 
 spected by the laws, and totally violated in respect 
 
113 
 
 to slaves. But a proof that nevertheless they still 
 had property, is that there were thefts. Oh! tutors, 
 what contradictory things you have said, without 
 being aware of it ! 
 
 The frequent opposition of interest among us, and 
 the inequality of means, are then conditions of our 
 nature, as are sufferings and death. I do not con- 
 ceive that there can be men sufficiently harbarous 
 to say that it is a good ; nor can I any more con- 
 ceive, that there should be any sufficiently blind, 
 to believe that it is an evitable evil. I think this 
 evil a necessary one, and that we must submit to 
 it. The conclusion which I should draw from it 
 (but it is as yet premature) is, that the laws should 
 always endeavour to protect weakness; while too 
 frequently they incline to favour power. The rea 
 son is easily perceived. 
 
 After these data, society should have for its ba- 
 sis, the free disposition of the faculties of the indi- 
 vidual, and the guarantee of whatever he may ac- 
 quire by their means ; then every one exerts Jiim- 
 self. One possesses himself of a field by cultivat- 
 ing it, another builds a house, a third invents some 
 useful process, another manufactures, another trans- 
 ports ; all make exchanges ; the most skilful gain, 
 the most economical amass. One of the conse- 
 quences of individual property is, if not that the 
 possessor may dispose of it according to his will af- 
 ter death, that is to say at a time when he shall no 
 longer have any will, yet at least that the law de- 
 termines in a general manner to whom it shall 
 pass after him ; and it is natural that it should be 
 to his nearest kindred. Then inheritance becomes 
 
Ill 
 
 a new mean of acquiring; and what is more, or ra- 
 ther what is worse, of acquiring without labour. 
 However, so long as society has not occupied all the 
 space of which it may dispose, all still prosper 
 with care ; for those who have nothing but their 
 hands, and who do not find a sufficiently advanta- 
 geous employment for their labour, can go and 
 possess themselves of some of those lands which 
 have no owners, and derive from them a profit so 
 much the iri^re considerable, as they are not oblig 
 ed to lease o^ buy them. Accordingly care is ge- 
 neral in new ahd industrious nations. But when 
 once all the country is filled, when there no longer 
 remains a field, wVch belongs to nobody, it is then 
 that pression begin^. Then those who have noth- 
 ing in advance, or who have too little, can do no 
 otherwise than put themselves in the pay of those 
 who have a sufficiency.* They offer their laboui 
 every where, it falls in price. This does not yet 
 prevent them from begetting children and multiply- 
 ing imprudently ; they quickly become too mime 
 rous. Then it is only the most skilful and the 
 most fortunate among them who can succeed. All 
 those whose services are in the least demand, can 
 no longer procure for themselves but a subsistence 
 the most strict, always uncertain, and often insuffi- 
 cient. They become almost as unhappy as if they 
 were still savages. 
 
 * Once more I repeat, that hired labourers are not solely in the pay 
 of the proprietors of land, but in that of all those who have capitah 
 with which to pay their wage? 
 
115 
 
 It is this class, destitute of the favours of fortune 
 that many writers on economy call non -proprietors ; 
 this expression is vicious in several respects. First, 
 there are no non -proprietors, if by that we under- 
 stand men entirely without the right of property. 
 Those of whom we speak are more or less poor ; 
 but they all possess something, and have a need of 
 preserving it. Were they but proprietors of their 
 individuality, of their labour, and of the wages of 
 this labour, they would have a great interest that 
 this property should be respected. It is but too of- 
 ten violated, in many of the regulations made by men 
 who speak of nothing but property and justice. 
 When a thing exists in nature, no one is without in- 
 terest in it. This is so true of the right of proper- 
 ty, that the felon, even, who is about to be punish- 
 ed for having violated it, if he is not entirely cut off 
 from society, has an interest that this right should 
 be respected : For the day after he had undergone 
 his punishment, he could not be sure of any thing 
 that remained to him, if property were not pro- 
 tected. 
 
 Secondly, the same writers, in opposition to the 
 pretended non-proprietors, call by the name of 
 proprietors those only who possess estates in land. 
 This division is entirely false, and presents no 
 meaning ; for we have seen that a lauded estate is 
 but a capital like another, like the sum of money 
 which it has cost, like every other effect of the same 
 value. One may be very poor, possessing a small 
 field, and very rich without possessing an inch of 
 land. It is therefore ridiculous to call the posses- 
 sor of a poor inclosure a proprietor, and to refuse 
 
116 
 
 this title to a millionary. It would be more reasona- 
 ble to divide society into poor and rich, if we knew 
 where to place the line of demarcation. But if this 
 division were less arbitrary? it would not be less il- 
 lusory in relation to property. For, once again I 
 repeat, the poor man has as much interest in the 
 preservation of what he has, as the most opulent. 
 
 A distinction more real in respect to the differ- 
 ence of interests, would be between the hirelings 
 on the one part, and those who employ them on the 
 other, whether consumers or undertakers. The 
 latter, under this point of view, may be regarded 
 as the consumers of labour. This classification 
 would, without doubt, have the inconvenience of 
 uniting together things very different ; as, for ex- 
 ample, of classing among the hired, a minister of 
 state, with a day-labourer, and of placing amongst 
 consumers the smallest master workman with the 
 richest idler. But in fine, it is true that all the 
 hirelings have an interest in being paid high, and 
 that all those who employ them have an interest in 
 paying them low. It is true, however, that the un- 
 dertaker who has an interest in paying little to the 
 hired, has the moment after an interest in being 
 paid high by the definitive consumer; and, above 
 all, it is true, that we are all more or less consum- 
 ers : for the poorest day labourer consumes arti- 
 cles produced by other hired persons ; on which 
 I make two reflections. 
 
 First, the interest of the hired being that of a ve- 
 ry great number, and the interest of the consumers 
 being that of all, it is singular enough that modern 
 governments should be always ready to sacrifice 
 
117 
 
 first the hired to the undertakers, in shackling those 
 by apprenticeships, corporation privileges, and 
 other regulations; and afterwards to sacrifice the 
 consumers to these same undertakers, by granting 
 to these privileges, and sometimes even monopolies. 
 Secondly, I remark, that although each of us 
 has particular interests, we change so frequently 
 our parts in society, that often we have under one 
 aspect an interest contrary to that which we have 
 under another, so that we find ourselves connected 
 with those to whom we were opposed the moment 
 before ; 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 and 
 consumers, that is to say, that we have all and al- 
 ways an interest, first, that property be respected ; 
 secondly, that industry should be perfected ; or, in 
 other words, that fabrication and transportation 
 should be in the best state possible. These truths 
 are useful, to comprehend perfectly the workings of 
 society, and to be sensible of all its advantages. 
 
 It was a desire of rendering them evident which 
 
 * 
 
 induced 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 are 
 
 f s O *> 
 
 not foreign to it. 
 
 I have a little hastened above the moment in 
 which distress begins to make itself felt in the bosom 
 of new societies, by fixing it at the instant in which 
 all land has a master, and at which it can no lon- 
 ger he procured, without being bought or rented. 
 
Certainly at this epoch a great mean of care is ex- 
 hausted, labour loses an opportunity of employing 
 itself in a manner extremely 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 thing always more difficult and less productive 
 than is generally believed. However immense re- 
 sources still remain. All the arts offer them in com- 
 petition, especially 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- 
 ways very slow ; 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- 
 selves to that. They have only thought of extract- 
 ing productions from the earth, and exporting them. 
 Observe that without a facility of exportation, the 
 progress of agriculture would have been much less 
 rapid, but with this circumstance, it has employed 
 all hands. Wages 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 has 
 not 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 it ! Accordingly the com- 
 
119 
 
 merce of these infant nations consists at first solely 
 in exporting raw products, and importing manufac- 
 tured articles. 
 
 Now what happens at the epoch of which we are 
 speaking, when all the territory is occupied ? Agri- 
 culture no longer offering the means of rapid for- 
 tune, the men who have been devoted to it spread 
 into the other professions ; they offer their labour 
 they obstruct one another wages lower in truth : 
 But long before they have become as low as in the 
 countries anciently civilized from whence manufac- 
 tured articles are drawn, there begins to be a profit 
 in manufacturing within the country itself the 
 greater part of these articles : for it is a great ad- 
 vantage for the manufacturer to be within reach of 
 the consumer, and not to fear for his merchandise 
 either the expenses or dangers of a long voyage, 
 nor the inconveniences which result either from the 
 slowness or difficulty of the communications ; and 
 this advantage is more than sufficient to counterba- 
 lance a certain degree of clearness in the manufac- 
 tory. Manufactories then of every kind are estab- 
 lished. Several of them, with the aid of some fa* 
 vourable circumstances, open to themselves foreign 
 markets after having supplied the internal con- 
 sumption, and give birth to new branches of com- 
 merce. All this occupies a numerous population, 
 who live on the produce of the soil, which then is 
 no longer exported in as great quantities, because 
 it has not augmented in the same proportion. This 
 new industry is for a long time increasing, as was 
 agricultural industry, which was the first develop- 
 tv d, ad go lone; as it increases, it affords, if not 
 
riches, at least ease to the lower classes of people.*' 
 It is not until it becomes stationary or retrograde 
 that misery begins, because all lucrative employ- 
 ments being filled, without a possibility of creating 
 new ones, there is every where more labour offered 
 than demanded. Then it is inevitable that the 
 least skilful and least fortunate among the labour- 
 ers should find no employment, or receive but insuf- 
 ficient wages for what they do. Many of them 
 necessarily languish, and even perish, and a great 
 number of wretched must constantly exist. Such 
 is the sad state of old nations. We shall soon see 
 from what causes they arrive at it sooner than they 
 ought, and by what means it might to a certain 
 point 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 truths. 
 There is in it neither a system made at pleasure, 
 nor a theory established beforehand. It is a sim- 
 ple exposition of facts. Every one may look and 
 see, if it is not thus they present themselves to the 
 unprejudiced eye. It may even be observed that I 
 have 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 superior 
 class of society should be sufficiently enlightened to give to the infe- 
 rior ideas completely sound of the social order, during- this happy 
 and necessarily transient period, in which it is the most susceptible of 
 instruction. If the United States of America do not profit of it. 
 their tranquility and even safety will be much exposed, when interior 
 and exterior obstacles, and inconveniences, shall have multiplied. 
 This will be called their decline and corruption. It will be the sk>\r 
 >ut necessary effect of their anterior improvidence and carelessness. 
 
ef them, and yet we come to this painful conclusion, 
 that its state of full prosperity is necessarily tran- 
 sient. To account for a phenomenon so afflicting, it 
 is not possible to stop at these vague words, of de- 
 generation, of corruption, of the old age of nations, 
 (as if an abstract being could be really old or young 
 like a living individual,) all metaphorical expres- 
 sions, which have been strangely abused, with 
 which we have often been satisfied for want of bet- 
 ter, but which in truth explain nothing, and which 
 if they had a prevalence, would express effects ra- 
 ther than causes. We must then penetrate further. 
 Every inevitable event has its cause in nature. 
 The cause of this is the fecundity of the human 
 species. Thus it is necessary to consider popula- 
 tion ; and afterwards we will resume the examina- 
 tion of the distribution of our riches. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Of the multiplication of Individuals, or of 
 Population. 
 
 LOVE is a passion which so violently affects our 
 heads, that it is not astonishing we should often be 
 mistaken on all its effects. I acknowledge I no 
 more partake of the zeal of the moralists, to dimin- 
 ish and constrain our pleasures, than of that of the 
 politicians, to increase our fecundity and accelerate 
 our multiplication. Each appears to me equally 
 contrary to reason. At a proper time I may de- 
 velope my opinions on the first point, at present the 
 second is 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, we 
 see nature occupied solely with the species, and 
 not at all with the individual. Its fecundity is such 
 in every kind, that if almost the totality of germs 
 which it produces were not abortive, and if much 
 the greater part of the beings brought forth did not 
 perish 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 species 
 of animals to people it entirely. The human spe- 
 cies is subjected to the common law, though perhaps 
 in a smaller degree than many others. Man is led 
 
to reproduction, by the most violent and imperious 
 of his inclinations. A man and a woman, having 
 attained ripe age, well constituted, and surrounded 
 with the means of providing abundantly for all 
 their wants, are able to raise many more children 
 than are necessary to replace themselves on the 
 scene of the world ; and, if their career is not 
 shortened by some unforeseen accident, they die 
 surrounded with a numerous family, which conti- 
 nues always increasing. Accordingly the human 
 race, when circumstances are favourable, multiplies 
 very rapidly, The United States of North Ame- 
 rica furnish a proof of this, their whole population 
 doubling in twenty years, and in some places in fif- 
 teen, and even in twelve years ; and, that too where 
 the emigration is almost nothing, and witjiout the 
 fecundity of women being greater there than else 
 where. And it is also to be remarked, on the con 
 trary that, whatever be the cause, cases of longc 
 vity are rare in that country, so that the mean dura- 
 tion of life would be shorter there than in the 
 greater part of Europe, without the great number of 
 infants who perish from want in this same Europe. 
 Here is an incontestable datum ? on which we can 
 rest. 
 
 If this be so, why then is population stationary, 
 and sometimes retrograde, in so many places, even 
 very healthy ones ? Here we must recollect the dis- 
 tinction we have already established, in the 4th 
 Chapter, between our means of existence and our 
 means of subsistence. The latter are the alimen- 
 tary matters with which we are nourished ; they 
 are the most necessary part of our means of exist 
 
ence, but they are only a part. By these last we 
 are to understand, all which contributes to defend 
 us against all the dangers and all the sufferings of 
 every kind ; thus they consist in all the resources, 
 whatever, with which we are furnished by the arts 
 and sciences, that is to say by the entire mass of 
 our knowledge. This distinction, well understood, 
 we may establish as a general thesis, that popula- 
 tion is always proportioned to the means of exist- 
 ence ; and this single principle will give us an ex- 
 planation of all the facts, and all their circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Amongst savages population is not only stationa- 
 ry, but little numerous, because their means of ex- 
 istence are very slender. Independently of their 
 frequent want of subsistence, they have neither the 
 conveniences sufficient, nor the attentions necessary 
 for raising their children ; accordingly the greater 
 part perish. They neither know how to defend 
 themselves against the severity of the seasons, nor 
 the insalubrity of the climate ; nor against the epi- 
 demics which frequently carry off three-fourths of a 
 population. Having no sound ideas of the social 
 state, wars are continual and destructive, vengeance 
 atrocious ; their women and old men are often 
 abandoned. Thus it is misfortune and suffering, 
 amongst them, which render the fecundity of the 
 human species useless, and perhaps diminishes it 
 Civilized people have all the resources which arc 
 wanting to the others ; accordingly their population 
 becomes numerous sooner or later ; but we see k 
 stops every where, when it has attained to that 
 point, that many men can no longer pro/we by their 
 
labour sufficient wages to raise their children, and 
 conveniently take care of themselves. If in general 
 it is yet a little progressive, although very slowly 
 in the actual state of our old societies, it is because 
 the arts and sciences, and particularly the social 
 science, being constantly cultivated there more or 
 less perfectly, their progress is always adding from 
 time to tiaie some little facilities to the means of liv- 
 ing, and open some new vents to commerce and in- 
 dustry. It is true that things proceed thus, that 
 when from some causes, natural or political, great 
 sources of profit are diminished in a country, pop- 
 ulation immediately becomes retrograde; and, on the 
 contrary, when it has been suddenly diminished 
 by great epidemics, or cruel wars, without know- 
 ledge having suffered, it quickly regains its level ; 
 because labour being more in demand, and better 
 paid, the poor have more means of preserving their 
 children and themselves. 
 
 If from those general observations we pass to par 
 lieular facts, we shall find the reason for them with 
 the same ease. Let us take Russia for the first ex- 
 ample. I do not pretend to make either eulogy or 
 satire on this nation, which I know not : But we 
 may safely affirm that it is not more skillful than 
 other European nations, yet it ih proved that its 
 population increases more rapidly than that of other 
 states of Europe. It is because it has a great ex- 
 tent of land ; which as yet, having no masters, of- 
 fers large means of existence to those who go or are 
 carried thither : and if this immense advantage 
 does not Hi ere produce a multiplication of men as 
 rapid as in the United States^ it is because its so 
 
127 
 
 cial organization and its industry are far from being 
 as perfect. Fertile countries, all things otherwise 
 equal, are more peopled than the others, and easily 
 repair their disasters, because their land furnishes 
 great means, that is to say the labour applied to 
 the land is there fruitful. Accordingly, Lombardy 
 and Belgium, so often ravaged, are always flourish- 
 ing. Poland however, which is very fertile, has 
 a small population, and that stationary ; because 
 its inhabitants being certs, and wretched, have in 
 the midst of abundance very slender means of exis- 
 tence. But suppose for a moment the small num- 
 ber of men, to whom these cerfs belong, and who 
 devour their substance, driven from the country, 
 and the land become the property of those who 
 cultivate it, you would see them quickly become in- 
 dustrious, and multiply rapidly. Two other coun- 
 tries, in general tolerably good, Westphalia and 
 even Switzerland, notwithstanding the latter has 
 wiser laws, have small population through want of 
 industry ; while Geneva, Hamburgh, and all Hol- 
 land have it in excess. On the contrary, Spain, 
 which is a delicious country, has few inhabitants re- 
 latively to its extent. However it has been proved, 
 that for the forty or fifty years, which preceded 
 die present unhappy war, its population sensibly 
 increased ; because they had been able to free it's in- 
 dustry from some of its fetters, and in some degree to 
 increase their information. It is then well proved, 
 that population is always proportioned to the means 
 of existence. 
 
 This truth has been already avowed by many po- 
 litical writers ; but we see in their works, that they 
 
128 
 
 have not perceived all its extent. M. Say, whom 
 I have already cited, and whom I may frequently 
 cite, is I think the first who has clearly said, in 
 his first hook, chap. 46, " That nothing can in- 
 " crease population hut what favours production ; 
 " and that nothing can diminish it, at least perma- 
 (< nently, hut what attacks the sources of produc- 
 * ( tion." And observe that by production M. Say 
 understands production of utility. It is even after 
 him that I have given this idea of it. Now to pro- 
 duce in this sense, is clearly to add to our means of 
 existence, for whatever is useful to us is a mean of 
 providing for our wants ; and indeed nothing me- 
 rits the name of useful, but for this reason. Thus 
 the principle of M. Say is exactly the same with 
 that which I have established. Accordingly he 
 draws from it this very just conclusion, that it is 
 absurd to attempt to influence population by direct 
 encouragements, by laws concerning marriages, by 
 premiums granted to numerous families, &c. &c. 
 He justly laughs on this subject at, the famous or- 
 dinances of Augustus, of Louis XIV. and of so 
 many other legislators, so much boasted of. These 
 are in effect very false measures, which could in no 
 way augment population ; and he added, very 
 justly, in my opinion, that the smallest regulation 
 hurtful to industry, made by these princes could 
 and must have diminished the number of men. 
 I think ubsolutely the same. 
 
 M. Malthas goes much further still. He is, at 
 least as far as I am acquainted, of all the authors 
 who have written on population, the one who has 
 treated the subject the most profoundly, and has- 
 
developed all its consequences*. His work, singu- 
 larly remarkable, should he regarded as the las* 
 state of science on this important object, and lie 
 leaves almost nothing to be desired. M. Malt bus 
 does not limit himself to prove, that though pop- 
 ulation is arrested at different degrees in different 
 countries, and according to different circumstances, 
 it is always and every where as great as it can be, 
 
 bavins: regard to the means of existence He 
 
 ~ ~ 
 
 shows that always in civilised nations it is too great 
 for the happiness of man; 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 foresight ; and plunge themselves into in- 
 evitable misery by a multiplication of the men, 
 who demand occupation, and to whom none can be 
 given. All he advances is founded not only on 
 convincing reasoning, but on tables of deaths, 
 births, marriages, of the mean duration of life, and 
 of the total population collected in different coun- 
 tries and discussed with care. 
 
 1 add this latter point as very necessary : for it is 
 to be observed first that all these data not only are 
 often inexact, but that even when exact, they re- 
 quire to be examined attentively, and compared 
 the one with the other, with much sagacity, before 
 consequences are drawn from them 5 without which 
 they would lead to serious* errors. Secondly, that 
 however imperfect these documents may be, they 
 exist but in few countries, and within a short time 
 only ; so that in political economy, as in astronomy, 
 we should calculate very little on ancient and dis- 
 28 
 
130 
 
 tant observations. Even in France the simple re- 
 gisters of mortality deserve scarcely any confidence 
 before the year 1700 ; and none of the other circum- 
 stances have been collected. Also, in the exam- 
 ples of population which I have above cited, I have 
 made no mention of what is told respecting certain 
 eastern countries, and of some nations antient or of 
 the middle age^ If China, if Spain, in the time of 
 the Romans, are or were as populous as we are 
 told, there must certainly have been local reasons 
 for the fact. But we have no means of knowing it 
 
 o 
 
 sufficiently to see the causes clearly, and to venture 
 to draw consequences. It is the same case with all 
 the parts of the political and domestic economy of 
 the ancients, founded almost solely on the practice 
 of slavery, and the profits or losses of war, and 
 yery little on the free and peaceful developement 
 of industry. It is an order of things entirely differ- 
 ent from our modern societies. As to the prodi 
 gious number of men which some authors pretend 
 to have existed in France for example under 
 Charles V. or under Charles the IX. in the four- 
 teenth and sixteenth centuries, that is to say at 
 times in which industry was as unskilful and the 
 social order as bad as we have seen it in Poland 
 the eighteenth century I believe the only answer 
 to be made to these assertions is that which I have 
 opposed to the marvellous union, which is said to 
 have reigned at Sparta. That is, that it is not true 
 because it is not possible. 
 
 However it may be, all those who have reflected 
 on these matters agree, that population is always 
 proportioned to the means of existence. M. Say 
 
131 
 
 concludes therefrom, with reason, that it is absurd 
 to think it possible to augment population other- 
 wise than by an augmentation of these means ; and 
 Mr. Malthus proves further, that it is barbarous to 
 endeavour to augment this population always too 
 great* and the excess of which is the source of all 
 miseries ; and that, even in relation to power, the 
 chiefs of nations lose by it : for since they cannot 
 continue in life a greater number of men than they 
 can at the same time subsist, by multiplying births 
 they only multiply premature deaths, and augment 
 the number of children in proportion to that of 
 adults ; which produces a weaker population, num- 
 bers being equal. The interest of men, under 
 every consideration, then is to diminish the effects 
 of their fecundity. 
 
 I will say no more on the subject, which is but 
 too clear of itself 5 and which nevertheless has 
 given occasion to such false opinions, before it was 
 thoroughly explained. We leave them for time to 
 destroy. 
 
 BRA H \ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 Consequences and developments of the two pre* 
 ceding chapters. 
 
 Let us always return to the point of departure. 
 An animated being, and especially man, is endowed 
 with sensibility and activity,* with passion and ac- 
 tion, that is to say with wants and means. While 
 we were considering the manner in which our riches 
 are formed, we might be charmed with our power 
 and the extent of our means ; in fact these are suffi- 
 cient to render the species prosperous, and give it 
 a great augmentation, both in number and in force. 
 A man and woman, inept and scarcely formed, 
 might end by covering the whole earth with a nu- 
 merous and industrious population. This picture 
 is very satisfactory ; but it changes essentially its 
 colour, when, from the examination of the forma- 
 tion of our riches, we pass to that of their distribu- 
 tion amongst the different individuals. There we 
 every where find the superiority of wants over 
 means ; the weakness of the individual, and his in- 
 evitable sufferings. But this second aspect of the 
 same object ought neither to disgust nor discourage 
 us. We are thus formed such is our nature; we 
 must submit, and make the most we can of it by a 
 skilful use of all our means, and by avoiding the 
 faults which aggravate our evils. 
 
 * We might say with nerves and muscles, for it goes tt> that. 
 
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. 
 
 We 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 of 
 his faculties, and to favour their entire development. 
 We have moreover seen that this employment and 
 development of faculties, although profiting un^ 
 equally the different individuals, succeeded in con- 
 ducting all to the highest state of well-being pos- 
 sible, so long as space, the greatest of all resources, 
 was not wanting; and that when all the land is occu- 
 pied, other subsidiary resources sufficed to support 
 for a long time a high stat e of general prosperity. 
 
 We have also seen that, liaving once arrived to 
 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 of 
 these means, but a bare satisfaction of their most 
 urgent wants. 
 
 We have finally seen that, tbe multiplication of 
 men continuing in all the classes of society, the su- 
 perfluity of the first has been successively cast into 
 the inferior classes ; 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 popula- 
 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- 
 ment, was for a long time scarcely remarked ; be- 
 cause it is but lately, tbat we have begun to occupy 
 ourselves with seme success on social economy. It 
 has 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 authorized mistakes. 
 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 day, it appears to me we are able to put 
 all this beyond a doubt. 
 
 Let us recollect that society is divided into two 
 great classes, that of men, who, without having any 
 thing in advance, work for wages and that of 
 men who employ them. This granted, it is evi- 
 dent that the first taken in mass live, daily and 
 yearly, only on what the totality of the second 
 lias 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. 
 
 These are the lenders of money, the lessors of 
 lands and houses and in a word the annuitants of 
 every kind. It is very clear that these men, in the 
 long run, cannot give more in a year to those they 
 employ than the amount of their revenue, or they 
 would encroach on their funds. There is always 
 a certain number who use them thus, and who 
 ruin themselves. Their consumption diminishes 
 
or ceases ; but it is replaced by those who become 
 enriched, and the total continues the same. This 
 is 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, make 
 no profit ; thus the sum total of their revenue, which 
 is devided amongst the hired, is a constant quantity. 
 If it makes some insensible progress, it can only 
 be by the slow improvement in agriculture ; which., 
 by rendering land a little more productive, fur- 
 Irishes ground for a small augmentation of rents. 
 For as to the hire of their money lent, it does not 
 vary. If ever it did augment by a rise in the rate 
 of interest, it would be an evil which, injuring many 
 enterprises, would diminish much more the faculties 
 of the second class, who feed those who work for 
 wages. 
 
 This second kind of persons is composed s of 
 those who join to the product of their capital, that 
 of their personal activity, that is to say the under- 
 takers of any kind of industry whatsoever. It 
 will be said that these make profits, and augment 
 their means annually ; but, first, this is not true of 
 all. Many of them manage their affairs badly, and 
 go to decay instead of thriving. Secondly, those who 
 prosper, cease to labour after a certain time, and go 
 to fill the void which is daily produced in the class 
 of those who live without doing any thing, by the fall 
 of spendthrifts withdrawing from it in consequence 
 of having badly managed their fortunes. Thirdly, 
 in fine, and this is decisive, this class of under- 
 takers has necessary limits, beyond which it can- 
 not go. To form any enterprize whatever, it is not 
 
137 
 
 sufficient to have the desire and means : it is neces- 
 sary to be able to dispose of the products in an ad- 
 vantageous manner, which more than defrays the 
 expenses they cost. When once all profitable em- 
 ployments are filled, no new ones can be created, 
 unless others fall, at least unless some new vents 
 are opened, i This second fund for the support of 
 the hired class is also, then, in our ancient societies, 
 a quantity nearly constant like the first. 
 
 Things being thus, we see clearly why the num- 
 ber of hired does not augment, when the funds which 
 might provide for their support, cease to increase. 
 It is because all who are born beyond the re- 
 quisite number perish through want of the means 
 of existence. This is very easy to be conceived* 
 We even comprehend that it is impossible for it to 
 be otherwise, for every one knows that if four per- 
 sons are daily to divide a loaf of bread, 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 
 Hve solely on their revenues multiply so much that 
 this revenue suffices for them no longer, 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 undertakers and that when 
 these, in their turn, become too numerous, many 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 others ; and 
 that, consequently, the limits beyond which it can- 
 Eot o are those of the total production. 
 89 
 
138 
 
 This single 'point, well elucidated, gives us an 
 explanation of all the phenomena relative to po- 
 pulation. It shows why it is retrograde in one 
 country, stationary in another, while 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 of 
 a transient nature, when 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 
 perceived, from the single change of a circumstance 
 little remarkable. In a word, it gives us the solu- 
 tion of all the questions of this kind, and moreover 
 furnishes 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 hy 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 when 
 men are spoken of whose wants are less urgent, and 
 sometimes even imaginary. We every day say, that 
 the interests of one minister are contrary to those of 
 another 5 that such a body has interests opposed to 
 
139 
 
 those of another body ; that it is the interest of cer- 
 tain undertakers, that the raw material should sell 
 high ; and the interest of some others to buy them 
 low. And we often espouse these motives with 
 warmth as if they were worth the trouble. Yet this 
 means no more than that some men believe, and often, 
 erroneously, that they have a little more or a little 
 less enjoyment under some circumstances than 
 under others. The poor, in his small sphere, has, 
 assuredly, also interests of this kind; but they dis- 
 appear before greater ones ; 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 death. Humanity does not 
 permit interests of this kind to be placed in the 
 balance with simple conveniences. 
 
 Justice is equally opposed to it ; and, moreover, 
 it obliges us to take into consideration the number 
 of those interested. Now, as the lowest class of soci- 
 ety is every where much the most numerous, it fol- 
 lows, that whenever it is in opposition with others, 
 what is useful to it, ought always to be preferred. 
 
 Policy leads us to the same result : for it is well 
 agreed, that it is useful to a nation to be numerous 
 and powerful. Now 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 and 
 countries, thai 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 interior tranquillity well established. 
 
110 
 
 This granted, let us examine what are the real 
 interests of the poor ; and we shall find that, effect- 
 lally, they are always conformable to reason and 
 the general interest. If they had always been 
 studied in this spirit, we should have acquired 
 sounder ideas of social order, and we would not 
 have eternized war sometimes secret, sometimes 
 declared which has always existed between the 
 poor and the rich. Prejudices produce difficulties, 
 reason resolves them. 
 
 We have already seen, that the poor are as much 
 interested in the maintenance of the right of pro- 
 perty as the most opulent : for the little they possess 
 is every thing for them, and of consequence infinitely 
 precious in their eyes ; and they are sure of nothing, 
 but so far as property is respected. They have 
 still another reason for wishing it ; it is that the 
 funds on which they live, the sum or the capitals of 
 those who employ them, is considerably diminished 
 when property is not assured. Thus they have a 
 direct interest, not only in the preservation of what 
 they possess, but also in the preservation of what is 
 possessed by others. Accordingly notwithstand- 
 ing that from the fatal effects of misery, of bad 
 education, of the want of delicacy, and of a sense 
 of injustice it would perhaps be true to say^that 
 it 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, 
 
 *This is very doubtful, if we take iuto consideration the difference in? 
 the number of individuals. 
 
But when you speak of property, comprehend un. 
 der this term, as the poor do, personal property, as 
 well as that which is moveable and iramoveable. 
 The first is even the most sacred, since it is the 
 source of the others. Respect that, in them, as you 
 wish they should respect, in you, those which are 
 derived from it ; leave to him the free disposition 
 of his faculties, and of their employment, as you 
 wish him to leave to you that of your lands and 
 capitals. This rule is as politic, as it is just and 
 unattended to. 
 
 After the free disposition of his labour, the great- 
 est interest of the poor man is that this labour 
 should be dearly paid. Against this I hear violent 
 outcries. All the superior classes of society and 
 in this view I even comprehend the smallest chief 
 of a workshop desire that the wages should be 
 very low, in order that they may procure more 
 labour for the same sum of money ; and they desire it 
 with so much fury, that when they can, and the laws 
 permit them, they employ even violence to attain this 
 end, and they prefer the labour of slaves, or serfs, 
 because it is still at a lower rate. These men do 
 not fail to say, and persuade, that wh-u they think 
 is their interest, is the general interest; and mat the 
 low price of wages is absolutely necessary to the de- 
 velopment of industry, to the extension of manu- 
 factures and commerce, in a word, to the property 
 of the state. Let us see how much truth there is in 
 these observations. 
 
 I know it would be disagreeable that the price 
 of workmanship should be so dear as to render it 
 economical to draw from abroad all transportable 
 
things : for then those engaged in their fabrication 
 would suffer, and would become extinct ; it would 
 be a foreign population which the consumers would 
 pay, and support, instead of a national one. But, 
 first, this degree of dearness would be no longer 
 for the interest of the poor, since, instead of being 
 well paid, they would want employment; and, 
 moreover, it is impossible, or at least it could not 
 continue ; because, on one part, the hirelings would 
 lower their pretentious so soon as they found them, 
 selves out of employ ; 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 lower rate. I add that if nevertheless the price 
 of workmanship should still remain too high, it 
 would no longer be to the scarcity of workmen 
 that it ought to be attributed, but to unskilfulness 
 and bad workmanship ; and then it would be the 
 unskilfulness, ignorance, and laziness, of men which 
 ought to be combated. These are effectually the 
 true causes of the languor of industry, wherever it 
 is remarked. 
 
 But where are these sad causes met with ? Is it 
 not always and uniformly there where the lowest 
 class of the people is most miserable ? This fur- 
 nishes me new arms against those who believe it to 
 be so useful, that labour should be badly paid. I 
 maintain that their avidity blinds them. Do you 
 wish to assure yourselves of it ? Compare the two 
 extremes, St. Domingo and the United States ; or, 
 rather, if you wish objects nearer together, compare 
 in the United States, the northern with those of thr 
 
south. The first furnish only very common articles ; 
 workmanship is there at a rate that may be called 
 excessive 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, arid that they employ the 
 species of labourers the worst paid namely slaves. 
 What this example particularly demonstrates 
 we see in all times, and in all places ; 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 evils, even to its oppressors. 
 The existence of slavery among ancient nations 
 should be regarded as the source of their principal 
 errors in economy, morality and politics, and the 
 first cause of their continual fluctuation between 
 anarchy, turbulent, and often ferocious or an atro- 
 cious tyranny. The slavery of the negroes, or 
 aborigines in our colonies, which had so many means 
 of prosperity, is equally the cause of their languor, 
 their weakness, and tbe gross vices of their inhabi- 
 tants. The 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 days, it has reduced 
 Poland to such a state of weakness, that an immense 
 nation existed for a long time only through the 
 jealousy of its neighbors, and has ended by seeing 
 its territory divided as easily as a private patrimony, 
 so soon as the pretenders to it have come to an 
 agreement among themselves. If from these ex- 
 
frcme cases without attending to the fury of the 
 rabble in France, or to the excesses of John of Ley- 
 den and his peasants in Germany, 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- 
 kind will agree that when a considerable portion 
 of society is in a state of too great suffering, and 
 consequently too much brutalized, there is neither 
 repose nor safety, nor liberty, possible even for 
 the powerful and rich ; and that, on the contrary, 
 these first citizens of a state are really much great- 
 er, and happier, when 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 price 
 which they may demand for their labour. We 
 have seen that their first interest is a respect 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 slender means. And here justice also pro- 
 nounces in their favour ; and I add, that they ought 
 to rejoice if the employment of their means procure 
 them an honest ease, for policy proves that it is the 
 general good. 
 
115 
 
 Observe, also, that if it is just and useful to 
 allow every man to dispose of his labour, it is 
 equally so and for the same reasons to allow him 
 to choose his residence. The one is a consequence 
 of the other. I know nothing more odious, than 
 to prevent a man from emigrating from his country,, 
 who is there so wretched as to wish to quit it, in spite 
 of all the sentiments of nature, and the whole force 
 of habits, which bind him to it. It is moreover 
 absurd : 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 yields his place to another who would 
 have perished if he had remained. To wish that 
 he should remain, is as if two men being inclosed 
 in a box, with air but for one, it should be wished 
 that one or both should be smothered, rather than 
 suffer either one or the other to go out. Emigra- 
 tion, far from being an evil, is never a sufficient 
 succour ; it is always too painful to resolve on it 
 for it to become in any degree considerable, the 
 vexations must be frightful ; and even then the void 
 it operates, is quickly filled, as that which results 
 from great epidemics. In these unhappy cases, it 
 is the sufferings of men that ought to be regretted ; 
 and not the diminution of their number. 
 
 As to immigration L say nothing. It is always 
 useless, and even hurtful, unless it be that of some 
 men who Imng new knowledge. But then it is 
 their knowledge, and not their persons, that is pre- 
 cious; and such are never very numerous. We 
 may without injustice prohibit immigration ; and it 
 is this precisely of which governments have never 
 
 30 
 
146 
 
 thought. It 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 wages 
 should he constant. In fact it is not a momentary 
 augmentation, or accidental increase, of his profits 
 which can ameliorate his situation. Improvidence 
 is one arid perhaps the greatest of his evils. An 
 extravagant consumption always destroys quickly 
 this extraordinary surplus of means, or an indis- 
 crete multiplication divides it among too many. 
 When then this surplus ceases, those w r ho lived on 
 it perish, or those who enjoyed it must restrict them- 
 selves ; and in the latter case it is never the con- 
 sumptions least useful which cease first, hecause 
 these are the most seducing. Then misery recom- 
 mences in all its horrors, with a greater degree of 
 intensity. Thus 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 we 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. If 
 for two sous I can buy bread sufficient for the day, 
 I am better nourished than if I were to receive ten 
 sous, when twelve would be necessary to complete 
 
147 
 
 my daily ration. Now we have before shewn 
 (Chap. 4th. and elsewhere) that the rate of the 
 lowest wages is regulated, and cannot fail of being 
 regulated in the long run, by the price of the things 
 necessary to existence. If the price of necessaries 
 suddenly abates, hirelings without doubt profit mo- 
 mentarily ; but without durable utility to them, as 
 we have just said. This, then, is not desirable. If, 
 on the contrary, this price augments, it is much 
 worse ; and the evils which result aggravate each 
 other. First, he who has nothing more than what is 
 necessary has nothing to spare thus all the poor 
 are in distress : but, moreover, in consequence of 
 this distress, they make extraordinary efforts ; they 
 are more urgent to be employed ; or in other words, 
 they offer more labour. Other persons who lived 
 without labour, have need of this resource there 
 is no employment for them. They are hurtful to 
 one another by this concurrence. This occasion is 
 taken to pay them less, when they have need of 
 being 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, should 
 be invariable. When we shall come to speak of 
 legislation, we shall see that the mean of making 
 this price as little variable as possible, is to leave 
 the most entire liberty to commerce ; because 
 the activity of speculators, and their competition, 
 makes them eager to take advantage of the smallest 
 
148 
 
 fall to buy, and the smallest rise to sell again ; and 
 thus they prevent either the one or the other from 
 becoming excessive. This method is also the 
 in ost conformable with a respect for property, for 
 the just and the useful are always united. For 
 the 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 of 
 commodities. When any branch of industry what- 
 ever takes suddenly a rapid increase, there is a 
 greater demand for labour than in ordinary : a 
 profit here results to the labourers ; and they use it 
 as all other momentary profits, that is to say badly. 
 But afterwards should this industry be relaxed or 
 extinguished, distress arrives ; every one must seek 
 resources. In truth there are many more in this 
 case than in that of a dearness, which is a universal 
 misfortune. The unoccupied workmen here may 
 go elsewhere. But men are not abstract and insen- 
 sible beings. Their removals are not made with- 
 out sufferings, without anguish, without breaking 
 up imperious habits. A workman is never so 
 adapted to the business he seeks as to that which he is 
 forced to quit. Besides he is there superfluous he 
 produces repletion, and consequently a depres- 
 sion of the ordinary wages. Thus every one suffers. 
 This is the great unhappiness of nations predom- 
 inating in commerce, and the inconvenience of an 
 exaggerated development of industry, a develop- 
 ment which from being exaggerated is subject to 
 vicissitudes, it is what at least should prove, that 
 
149 
 
 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 evils. 
 
 It has been remarked that nations essentially 
 agricultural are less subject to suffer from these 
 sudden revolutions of industry and commerce, in 
 consequence, the stability of their prosperity has 
 been 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 spread 
 over a vast territory. This 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 
 deeply inland. When 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. Now as grain and 
 other 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 
 
150 
 
 mean of preventing the whole from perishing, when 
 the dearth is very great. It is in tins case that in 
 a besieged town, all the useless mouths if possible 
 are sent away. It is the same calculation. The 
 defence would still he 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 cruel 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 alimentary 
 matters to small bulk, and consequently to easy 
 transportion. In truth, they would immediately 
 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. We have only 
 to observe the enormous advantage which temper- 
 ance gives to armies in invasions. This 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 either 
 insular, or extended along the coasts of the sea* 
 Accessible every where, they may receive succour 
 from all countries. In order that dearness should 
 become excessive in these nations, for the price 
 
151 
 
 to become excessive with these people, the crops 
 must have failed in all the habitable globe. Even 
 then it would only rise to the mean rate of general 
 dearness, and never to the extreme rate of the local 
 dearness of the inland countries most destitute. 
 These nations, then, are exempt from the greatest 
 of disasters ; and, as to the less general evils result- 
 ing from the revolutions which take place in some 
 branches of industry and commerce; I observe 
 that they are rarely exposed to them if they have 
 left to this industry and to this commerce their na- 
 tural course and if they have not employed violent 
 means to give them an exaggerated extension. I 
 conclude, not only that their condition is better, but 
 also that their misfortunes are produced by their 
 faults, whilst those of the others proceed from their 
 position ; and that thus they have more means of 
 avoiding these misfortunes. We were necessarily 
 led to this result, and ought 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 where 
 this commerce is the most perfect, and most active, 
 we should be more accessible to misfortune. 
 
 If, therefore, it were proved that the prosperity 
 of commercial nations was less solid, and less dura- 
 ble, (a fact I do not believe true, at least amongst 
 moderns)* it would be necessary, first, to distin- 
 guish between happiness and power 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, hut their power sub- 
 sists; because the loss of men, w r ho perish in 
 dearth, is quickly repaired by new births when it 
 ceases the habitual means of existence, not having 
 been destroyed ; whereas in a commercial nation, 
 when a branch of industry is annihilated, it is some- 
 times annihilated without return, and without a 
 possibility of being replaced by another ; so that 
 that part of the population which it brings to ruin 
 cannot be again restored. But, as we have said, 
 tliis latter case is rare, when not provoked by faults. 
 If, independently of this, it were proved that the 
 prosperity of commercial nations is frail, in propor- 
 tion to the internal vices to which they are subject, 
 it would not be proper to impute it to commerce 
 itself, but to accidental causes and principally to 
 the manner in which riches are frequently intro- 
 duced into these states, which favours extremely 
 their very unequal distribution ; and this is the 
 greatest and most general of evils. On ex- 
 amination, we should find there, as every where, 
 the human race happy from the development and 
 increase of its means ; but ready to become unhap- 
 py from the bad use it makes of them. The dis- 
 cussion of this question, in all its extent, will find 
 its place elsewhere. 
 
 However, it may be, it is then certain that the 
 poor are proprietors as well as the rich ; that in 
 (heir quality of proprietors of their persons, of their 
 faculties, and of their product, they have an interest 
 hi being allowed the free disposition of their persons 
 
153 
 
 and labour ; that this labour should produce them 
 sufficient wages ; and that these wages should v 7 ary 
 as little as possible, that is to say they have an in- 
 terest that their capital should be respected, that 
 this capital should produce the revenue necessary 
 for existence, and that this revenue if possible 
 should be always 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 
 other. In this latter quality he has the same 
 interest as all consumers, that of being provisioned 
 in the best and cheapest manner possible. It is 
 necessary then for him, that manufacture should be 
 very expert, communications easy, and relations 
 multiplied : for no one has a greater need of being 
 supplied on good terms than he who has few means. 
 What must be thought then of those who maintain 
 that ameliorations of the methods and the invention 
 of machines, which simplify and abridge the pro- 
 cesses of art, are an evil for the poor? My answer 
 is that they have no idea of their real interest, nor 
 of those of society : For one must be blind not to 
 see that when a thing which required four days 
 labour can be made in one, every one for the same 
 sum can procure four times as much ; or, consuming 
 only the same quantity, may have three-fourths of 
 his money remaining to be employed in procuring 
 other enjoyments and certainly this advantage is 
 still more precious to the poor than to the rich. But, 
 say they, the poor gained these four days labour* 
 and now he will gain but one. But, say I, in my 
 turn, you forget then that the funds on which all the 
 
 31 
 
iM 
 
 hirelings live are the sum of the means of those who 
 employ them ; that this sum is a quantity nearly 
 constant ; that it is always employed annually ; that 
 if a particular ohject absorbs a smaller part of it, 
 the surplus, which is economised, seeks other desti- 
 nations ; and that thus, while it is not diminished, 
 it hires an equal number of labourers and that 
 moreover, if there is a mean of augmenting it, it is 
 by rendering fabrication more economical; because 
 this 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. These 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 always 
 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 which would otherwise have 
 paid for useful labour and which will not pay 
 it thus nothing is gained on this side. Secondly, 
 from this unfruitful labour nothing remains 5 and, if 
 it had been fruitful, there would have remained from 
 it useful things for procuring enjoyments, 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 on 
 what funds hirelings live. This series of combina- 
 tions will occur when we shall speak of the employ- 
 ment of our riches. It is for this I have developed 
 it : For so much reasoning appears unnecessary to 
 
155 
 
 prove that labour acknowledged useless is useless-, 
 and that it is more useful to execute useful labour. 
 Now to this single truth is reduced the apology for 
 machines and other improvements. 
 
 They 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 just 
 refuted. I give them the same answer. It has 
 moreover been pretended that all this is in another 
 way hurtful to the poor, by raising the price of provi- 
 sions. The truth is, that it raises their price at 
 times when they are too low from the difficulty of 
 exporting them ; but it reduces their price, when 
 too high from the difficulty of importing them. 
 Thus it renders the prices more constantly equal ; 
 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 admit, however, that all these innovations, advan- 
 tageous in themselves, may sometimes produce at 
 first a momentary and partial restraint it is the 
 effect of all sudden changes ; but, as the utility of 
 these is general and durable, this consideration 
 ought not to retard them. It is only requisite that 
 society should give succour to those who suffer for the 
 moment ; and this it can easily do, when it is pros 
 pering in the mass. 
 
 It is then true that notwithstanding 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 
 
158 
 
 who employ them, as two classes essentially enemies. 
 It is particularly true,, that the real interests of the 
 poor are always the same as those of the society 
 taken in mass. I do not pretend to say that the poor 
 always know their real interests. Who is he that 
 always has just ideas on these matters, even amongst 
 the enlightened ? But, in fine, it is much that things 
 are thus ; and it is a good thing to know it. Tli6 
 greatest difficulty, in impressing this, is, perhaps, to 
 be ahle clearly to point out the cause. This I think 
 we have now done. Arriving at this result, we have 
 examined by the way several questions, which, 
 without diverting us from our road, have retarded our 
 inarch. Yet I have not thought it right to pass them 
 by without notice, because, in things of this kind, 
 all the objects are so intimately linked together that 
 there 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 unequal in means. This second condition of 
 our nature deserves also to be studied in its conse- 
 quences, without which we cannot completely know 
 the effects of the distribution of our riches among 
 different individuals ; and we shall but imperfectly 
 know what we ought to think of the advantages and 
 inconveniences of the increase of these same riches, 
 by the effect of society. Let us at first establish 
 some general truths. 
 
 Declaimers have maintained that inequality in 
 general is useful, and that it is a benefit for which 
 we ought to thank -Providence. I have but one 
 word to answer. Amongst sensible beings, fre- 
 quently with opposite interests, justice is the great- 
 
157 
 
 e t good : for that alone can so conciliate them, 
 that none may have cause of complaint. Then 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 power. However, when we 
 enter into detail, we 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. It exists in all its horror among 
 brutal and savage men with them it places the 
 weak at the mercy of the strong. It is the cause 
 why among them there are the fewest relations 
 possible, for it would become insupportable. If it 
 has not been always remarked among them, it is 
 because scarcely ever accompanied by an inequality 
 of riches ; which is what strikes 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 least diminishes it. Men 
 shocked with the abuses still prevalent in society, 
 have pretended that, on the contrary, it augments 
 this inequality ; and it must be confessed, that when 
 it totally loses sight of its destination it justifies the 
 reproaches of its bitterest detractors. For example 
 wheresoever it continues slavery, properly so called, 
 it is certain that savage independence, with all its 
 dangers is still preferable. But it must be admitted 
 nevertheless that this is not the object of society ; 
 
158 
 
 and that it tends, most frequently \vith success, to 
 diminish the inequality of power. 
 
 By diminishing the inequality of power, and thus 
 establishing security, society produces the develop- 
 ment of all our faculties, and increases our riches, 
 that is to say our means of existence and enjoyment. 
 Eat the more our faculties are developed, the more 
 their inequality appears and augments; and this 
 soon introduces the inequality of riches, which 
 ijrings with it that of instruction, capacity and of 
 influence. Here, in a word, as appeals to me, are 
 the advantages and inconveniences of society. This 
 view shows us what we have a right to expect from 
 , and what we ought to do to perfect it. 
 
 Since the object of society is to diminish the 
 inequality of power, it ought to aim at its accomplish- 
 ment, and since its inconvenience is to favour the 
 inequality of riches, it ought constantly to endeavour 
 to lessen it always by gentle, and never by violent, 
 means : for it should always be remembered, that 
 the -fundamental base of society is a respect for 
 property, and its gurantee against all violence. 
 
 But it will be asked, when inequality is reduced 
 entirely to an inequality of riches, is it still so great 
 an evil ? I answer, boldly, yes : For, first, bringing 
 with it an inequality of instruction, of capacity, and 
 of influence, it tends to re-establish the inequality of 
 power and consequently to subvert society. Again, 
 considering it only under an economical relation, we 
 have seen that the funds on which hirelings live are 
 the revenues of all those who have capitals ; and 
 among these it is only undertakers of industry who 
 augment their riches, and consequently the riches 
 
159 
 
 of the nation. Now it is precisely the possessors of 
 great fortunes who are idle, and who pay no labour 
 but for their pleasure. Thus the more there are of 
 great fortunes* the more national riches tend to 
 decay and population to diminish. The example 
 of all times, and all places, supports this theory: 
 For 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 extreme 
 inequality. But this is much more difficult at certain 
 times, and in certain places, than in others. An 
 inland agricultural people having few relations, 
 living on a sterile soil, unable to increase their 
 means of enjoyment but by the slow progress of its 
 culture, and the still slower progress of their manu- 
 factures, will easily, and for a long time, avoid the 
 establishment of great inequality among their 
 citizens. 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, many 
 individuals will certainly ruin themselves by work- 
 ing them ; but some will acquire immense riches : 
 or, if the government reserves to itself this profit, it 
 will soon be enabled to procure for its creatures an 
 exaggerated 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 easy circumstances,- consetyiemly tfce dispropor- 
 tion, though real, is much less. 
 
160 
 
 will not fail to do it. Too many Causes conctorto 
 procluee this effect. Finally, if you suppose this 
 people, still poor, to become conquerors, to seize on 
 a rich country, and to establish themselves 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 themselves : for where force decides it is 
 very difficult to have equitable partitions. The lots 
 of the different individuals are as different, as their 
 degrees of authority in the army or of favour with 
 the chief. Moreover, they are exposed to frequent 
 usurpations. 
 
 The fortune of maritime nations is generally more 
 rapid. Yet there we remark the same varieties. 
 Navigators may be reduced to small profits to car- 
 rying to fishing to commerce with nations from 
 which great profits cannot be made. Then it is, 
 easy for them to remain long nearly equal amongst 
 themselves. They may, on the contrary, penetrate 
 into unknown regions ; have in profusion the most 
 rare articles ; establish relations with people from 
 whom they can derive immense profits ; take to 
 themselves great monopolies ; found rich colonies^ 
 over which they hold a tyranical empire ; or eveu 
 become conquerors, and import into their country the 
 productions of countries very extensive subjected by 
 their arms, as the English in India, and the 
 Spaniards in South America. In all these cases, 
 there is more or less of chance ; but in all, a great 
 probability that their enormous riches will be very 
 unequally distributed. 
 
161 
 
 Many other circumstances, without doubt, con- 
 nect themselves with these, and modify their effects. 
 The different characters of people, the nature of 
 their government, the greater or less extent of their 
 information,' and, above all, of their knowledge of 
 the social art in the moments which decide their 
 fortune, occasion like events to have very differ- 
 ent consequences. If Vasco De Gama and his 
 cotemporaries had had the same views and misfor- 
 tunes as Cook, or La Pey rouse, our relations wick 
 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 societies receiving their first laws from Locke or 
 Franklin, 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 every 
 where 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 division ; and this 
 unequal division occasioning the inequality of power 
 
 * This is so striking, that I imagine there is no one who does not regret 
 that America was discovered three hundred years too soon, and who does 
 not even doubt whether it would yet be a proper time for discovering it. 
 It is true that these events, however deplorable, have promoted our ulterior 
 progress ; but it is buying them very dear. It appears that such is ou r 
 ilestiny. 
 
which society begun by restraining, and was intended 
 to destroy, produces its weakness, and sometimes 
 its 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 degeneration, 
 their corruptions, 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 nations. Certainly where equality 
 renders injustice and oppression more difficult, and 
 more rare, they are more virtuous from the fact it- 
 self since fewer faults #re committed. But it is 
 equality and not poverty which is their protection. 
 Otherwise the passions are the same there as else- 
 where. Why incessantly represent to us commer- 
 cial nations as avaricious, and agricultural people 
 as models of moderation ? Men every where hold to 
 tlu'ir interests, and are occupied with them. The 
 Carthaginians were not more avaricious than theRo- 
 mans; and the Romans, who were the most cruel 
 usurers at home and insatiable spoliators abroad, 
 were quite as avaricious in what are called their best 
 times, as under the emperors. The state of society ! 
 alone was different. It is the same with the word 
 degeneration. Certainly when a part of mankind 
 has been accustomed to resign itself to oppression, 
 and another part to abuse its power, we may well 
 say they have degenerated ; but, from the manner 
 In which this expression is often employed, we 
 
ids 
 
 should be led to believe they are no longer born the 
 same that nature has changed that the race is 
 depreciated that they have no longer Force or cou- 
 rage : all this is very false. We-h.ive a still greater 
 abuse of the expressions effeminate and effeminacy. 
 Montesquieu himself tells you gravely, that the 
 fertility of the land effeminates its inhabitants * It 
 nourishes them and this is all. To listen to certain 
 authors, we should suppose that there comes a time 
 when all the inhabitants of a country live amidst de- 
 lights, as those famous Sybarites of whom we have 
 been told so much. This would be very happy, 
 but it is impossible When you are told that a na- 
 tion is enervated by effeminacy, understand that 
 there is about an hundreth part of it, at most, cor- 
 rupted by the habit of power and the facility of en- 
 joyment ; and that all the rest are debarred by op- 
 pression, and devoured by misery.^ Nor are we 
 less deceived in the sense of the expression, poor 
 nations; it is there the people are at their ease 
 and the rich nations is where the people are com- 
 monly poor. It is for this reason that some are 
 strong, and others often weak. We might multiply 
 these reflections to infinity ; but all may be reduced 
 
 * He says of it many other things. See his 18th book of laws, in the re- 
 lation they have with the nature of the loil. 
 
 f And those famous delight* of Capua ! and all those armies suddenly 
 tffeminated, by having found themselves in abundance! Ask of all the 
 generals if their soldiers have been the worse for having plentifully enjoyed 
 the means of life for some time, unless they have suffered them to become 
 pillagers, and undisciplined, .by setting them the example; or the chiefs, 
 having made thir fortune, are no longer ambitious., If it is this which ha 
 happened to the Carthaginians, and others, this is what should have been 
 said, and not in vain rhetorical 
 
 
164 
 
 to this truth, which has not always been sufficiently 
 perceived ; the multiplication of our means of enjoy- 
 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 riches ; it is time 
 to speak of the use we make of them. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 Of the employment 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 we use them, 
 and what are the consequences of the different uses 
 we make of them. This is what will complete the 
 illustration of the whole course of society, and show 
 us what things are really useful or hurtful, as well 
 to the public as to individuals. If in the two first 
 parts, we have well ascertained and explained the 
 truth, this will unravel itself, and every thing in it 
 will be clear and incontestible. If, on the con- 
 trary, we have imperfectly viewed the first facts, 
 if we have not remounted to first principles, if our 
 researches have been superficial or led astray by a 
 spirit of system, we are about to encounter difficul- 
 ties on difficulties; and there will remain in all we 
 shall say many obscure and doubtful things, as has 
 happened to many others, and even to the most ca- 
 pable and learned. 'However the reader will judge. 
 
 We create nothing ; we annihilate nothing ; but 
 we operate changes, productive or destructive, 
 of utility. We procure for ourselves means of en- 
 joyment, only to provide for our wants ; and we 
 cannot employ them in the satisfaction of these 
 wants ; but by diminishing and even destroying 
 
166 
 
 them. We make cloth, and, with this cloth, clothes, 
 only to clothe ourselves ; and, by wearing, we 
 wear THEM out ; with grain, air, earth, water, and 
 manure, we produce alimentary matters to nourish 
 ourselves ; and, by nourishing ourselves with them, 
 we convert them into gas and manure ; which again 
 produce more. This is what we call consumption. 
 Consumption is the end of production, but it is its 
 contrary. Thus all production augments our 
 riches, and all consumption diminishes them. 
 Such is the general law. 
 
 However there are consumptions of many kinds. 
 There are some which are only apparent ; others 
 very real, and even destructive ; and some which 
 are fruitful. They vary according to the species of 
 consumers, and the nature of the things consumed. 
 These differences must be examinee! and distin- 
 guished, in order clearly to see the effect of general 
 consumption, on the total mass of riches. Let us 
 begin by discussing the consumers. I hazard this 
 expression, because it well expresses the end which 
 I propose to myself. 
 
 We agree that we are all consumers, for we all 
 have wants for which we cannot provide but by a 
 consumption of some kind ; and that also we are all 
 proprietors, for we all possess s\)me means of pro- 
 viding for our wants, were it only by our indivi- 
 dual force and capacity. But we have also seen, 
 that from the unequal manner in which riches are 
 distributed, in proportion as they are accumulated, 
 many among us have no part in these accumulated 
 riches, and possess in effect but their individual 
 force. These have no other treasure than their 
 
167 
 
 daily labour. This labour procures them wages, 
 for which reason we have called them specially 
 hirelings ; and it is with these wages they provide 
 for their consumption. 
 
 But whence are the wages raised ? Evidently 
 on the property of those to whom these hirelings 
 sell 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 subsists ; but at bot- 
 tom it is not they who pay it, or at least they pay 
 it only with the funds existing in advance in the 
 hands of those who employ them. They merely 
 receive w*h one hand and give with the -other. 
 Their consumption, therefore, ought to be regarded 
 as being made by those who pay them. If even 
 they do not expend all they receive, these savings 
 raising them to the ranks of capitalists, enable them 
 afterwards to make expenditures en their own 
 funds ; but as they come to them from the same 
 hands, they ought 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 immediate consumption of hirelings, as hire- 
 lings ; and to consider not only all they expend, 
 but even the whole they receive, as the real expen- 
 diture and proper consumption of those who pur- 
 chase their labour. This is so true, that to see 
 whether this consumption is more or less destructive 
 
168 
 
 of the riches acquired, or even if it tends to aug- 
 ment them as it often does, depends entirely on 
 knowing what use the capitalists make of the labour 
 they purchase. This leads us to examine the con- 
 sumption of capitalists. 
 
 We have said that they are of two kinds, the 
 one idle, the other active. The first have a fixed 
 revenue, independent of all action on their part, 
 since they are supposed idle. This revenue con- 
 sists in the hiring of their capitals whether movea- 
 bles, money or land, which they hire to those who 
 improve them by the effect of their industry. This 
 revenue, is, then, but a previous levy on the pro- 
 ducts of the activity of the industrious citizens ; 
 but this is not our present enquiry. What we 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. All 
 the labourers whom they pay are solely destined to 
 procure them enjoyments. Without doubt these 
 enjoyments are of different kinds : For the least 
 wealthy they are limited to the satisfaction of the 
 most urgent wants ; 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 whose labour is completely sterile. It is 
 however true, that amongst these expenses some 
 may be found which are more or less fruitful ; as, 
 for example, 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. Also, we must remark, that 
 these men can expend no more than their revenue : 
 if they touch on their funds nothing replaces them, 
 and their consumption exaggerated for a moment, 
 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 all 
 the men who having capitals of a greater or smaller 
 amount, employ their talents and industry in im- 
 proving them themselves, instead of hiring them to 
 others ; and who, consequently live neither on 
 wages nor revenues but on profit. These men 
 hot only improve their proper capitals, hut all those 
 also of the inactive capitalists. They take on rent 
 their lands, houses, and money, and employ them 
 so as to derive from them profits superior to the 
 rent.* They have then in their hands almost all 
 the riches of society. It is moreover to be remark- 
 ed, that it is not only the rent of these riches they 
 annually expend, but also the funds themselves ; 
 
 * Idle capitalists, sometimes rent houses and money to the idle capi- 
 talists : But the latter pay the rent only with their own revenues ; and 
 to find the formation of these revenues we must always remount to in' 
 lustrious capitalists. As to lands they almost always rent them to un- 
 dertakers of culture, for what would the idle make of them ? 
 
1/0 
 
 and sometimes several times in the year, when the 
 course of commerce is sufficiently rapid to enable 
 them to do so r 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. We see then that their consump- 
 tion is immense, and that the number of hirelings 
 whom they feed is truly prodigious. 
 
 We must now distinguish two parties in this enor- 
 mous consumption. All which is made by these 
 industrious men for their own enjoyment, and for 
 the satisfaction of their own wants and those of their 
 family, is definitive and lost without return, like 
 that of the idle capitalists. On the whole it is mo- 
 derate, for industrious men arr commonly frugal, 
 and too often not very rich. But all 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 with profit ; and, that this 
 industry may be sustained, its profits must at least 
 be equal not only to their personal and defini ive 
 consumption, but also to the rent of the land and 
 money which they hold of the idle capitalists, 
 which rent is their sole revenue, and the only fund 
 of their annual expense. If the profits of the active 
 capitalists were less than these necessary previous 
 levies, their funds would be encroached on ; they 
 would be obliged to diminish 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 of 
 employing 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 
 themselves for all that part of their consumption 
 which is destined to the satisfaction of their own 
 wants, which they pay for with a portion of their 
 profits ; Secondly, to hirelings, as well those in 
 their pay as in the pay of the idle capitalists ; from 
 which hirelings they draw by this mean the whole 
 of their wages, except the small savings they may 
 possibly be able to make ; Thirdly, to the idle 
 capitalists, who pay them with the part of their 
 revenue which they have not already given 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, which 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. This point is that of production. The 
 undertakers of industry are really the heart of the 
 body politic, and their capitals are its blood. With 
 these capitals they pay the wages of the greatest 
 part of the hirelings ; they pay their rents to all 
 
 * And why is it circular and continual ? Because consumption con- 
 tinually destroys that which has been produced. If reproduction did 
 not incessantly establish it, all would be finished after the first turn. 
 
172 
 
 the idle capitalists, possessors either of land or mo 
 ney ; and by them the wages of all the remaining 
 hirelings ; 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 land and money borrowed, have 
 cost them- 
 
 But 1 shall be told, if this is really so, if the un- 
 dertakers of industry in fact reap annually 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 
 any thing in advance, and undertakers with capi- 
 tals. This is true, and 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 has operat- 
 ed for a considerable time in a country, without too 
 great disturbances, its capitals are always augment- 
 ed not only in proportion to the increase of total 
 wealth, but yet in a much greater. To 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. We may add that this 
 effect would be still much more sensible, were it not 
 for the immense levies which all governments an- 
 nually raise on the industrious class by means 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. Every one 
 working for himself, and making exchanges with 
 his neighbours, is a real undertaker, or momentari- 
 ly a hireling when he occasionally works for another 
 for a recompense. Even 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. Thus 
 a simple hireling, who has some small savings plac- 
 ed at interest, is in this respect an idle capitalist; 
 as is also an undertaker who has a part of his funds 
 realised 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 wages, 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. This 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 see clearly, why production is arrested, when the 
 fruitful consumption of industry can no longer be augmented, and 
 
light it throws on the whole course of society 
 Whence comes this accordancy and this lucidness ? 
 From this, that we have struck on the truth. This 
 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, when one is too near or too distant. So 
 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 advanc- 
 ing nothing but obscurity, confusion and inextrica- 
 ble embarrassments. I have already 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 makes a part of the con- 
 sumption of those who employ them; that that of 
 the lessors 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 the 
 species of consumers, it varies likewise according to 
 the nature of the things consumed. All represent 
 truly labour ; but its value is fixed more solidly in 
 
 why the number and ease of men increase or decrease as the Indus- 
 trv, &.c. &c. 
 
173 
 
 some than in others. "As much pains may have been 
 taken to prepare an artificial fire work as to find and 
 cut a diamond ; and, consequently, one may have as 
 much value as the other. But 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 
 ease with what are called immaterial products. A 
 discovery is of an eternal utility. A work of genius, 
 a picture, are likewise of an utility more or less du- 
 rable ; while that of a ball, concert, a theatrical re- 
 presentation, is instantaneous and disappear imme- 
 diately. We 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. 
 
 All consumable things, of what nature soever, 
 may be placed between these two extremes, of the 
 shortest arid longest duration. From this it is easy 
 to see, that the most ruinous consumption is the most 
 prompt, since it is that which destroys the must 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 enjoyment of a part of actual sacrifices. 
 This is so clear that it needs no proof : for every 
 one knows that it is more economical to have for 
 the same price a coat which will last three years, 
 than one which will last but three months ; accord- 
 ingly this truth is acknowledged by every body. 
 What, is singular, is that it should be so even by 
 
176 
 
 those who regard luxury as a cause of wealth : for if 
 to destroy is so good a thing, it seems that we can- 
 not destroy too much, and that we ought to think 
 with the man who broke all 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 matter 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 soon 
 as 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. Now how conceive 
 that exaggerated destruction can be the cause of 
 riches can be production? It is repugnant to good 
 sense. 
 
 We 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 what ruins an hundred men 
 would enrich two hundred. 
 
 It is also said that luxury supports a numerous 
 population. Without doubt not only the luxury of 
 the 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 ? Those who employ them 
 

 177 
 
 consume its result, and nothing of it remains ; and 
 with what do- they pay for this labour ? with their 
 revenues, that is to say with riches already acquired, 
 of which in a short time nothing will remain. There 
 then is' a destruction, not an augmentation of riches. 
 But let us go further. Whence do these idle men 
 derive their revenues ? Is it not from the rent paid 
 to them out of the profits of those who employ their 
 capitals, that is to say of those who with their own 
 funds hire labour which produces more than it costs, 
 in a word the industrious men ? To these then we 
 must always remount, in order to find the source 
 of all wealth. It is they who really nourish the hire- 
 ling whom even the others employ. 
 
 But, say they, luxury animates circulation, These 
 words have no meaning. They forget then what is 
 circulation. Let us recal it. With time a greater or 
 smaller quantity of riches are accumulated, because 
 the result of anterior labours, has not been entirely 
 consumed as soon as produced. Of the possessors 
 of these riches some are satisfied with drawing arent 
 and living on it. These we have called the idle. 
 Others more active, employ their own funds, and 
 those which they hire. They employ them to hire 
 labour, which reproduces them with profit. With 
 this profit they pay for their own consumption, and 
 defray that of the others. Even by these consump- 
 tions their funds return to them a little increased, 
 and they recommence. This is what constitutes cir- 
 culation. We see that it has no other funds than 
 those of the industrious citizens. It can only aug- 
 ment in proportion s^ they augment; nor be acce- 
 lerated, which is stttl 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, instead 
 of a year, they would employ them twice a year in- 
 stead of once ; and this is as if they employed 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 less another ; if they do otherwise 
 they encroach on their capitals. They are obliged 
 to 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. Thus this is not an aug- 
 mentation of the total mass of expense, it is but a 
 transposition, a change of some of its parts, and a 
 disadvantageous change. Thus even in ruining 
 themselves, the men who 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- 
 selves, to the exaggerated and superfluous consump- 
 tion called luxury. They 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 badly,* believes the profu- 
 sions of the rich very useful ; " because, says he, 
 (book 7th, chap. 1th,) if the rich do not spend a great 
 
 * Montesquieu was a very great Aan, but the science was no 1 
 buUt \n his time ; it is quite recent. 
 
179 
 
 deal, the poor must die of famine." We perceive 
 from these few words, and many others, that he did 
 not 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 levied on industry ; it is industry alone 
 which gives them birth. Their possessors can do 
 nothing to augment them, they only scatter them, 
 arid they cannot avoid scattering them. For if they 
 do not expend the whole for their enjoyments, un- 
 less they cast the surplus into the river or bury it, 
 which is a rare folly, they replace it, that is to 
 say they form with it new funds for industry, which 
 it employs. Thus even by economising they pay 
 for the same quantity of labour. All 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. Which is by ruining the rich, to take from the 
 hands of idle men those funds which, being dis- 
 tributed amongst those who labour, may enable 
 them to economise, and thus form capitals in the in- 
 dustrious class. But first this would go directly 
 contrary to the intention of Montesquieu, who be- 
 lieves luxury advantageous, especially in a mo- 
 narchy; 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. Moreover we must ob. 
 
180 
 
 serve with M. Say, that a taste for superfluous ex- 
 penses has its foundation in vanity, that it cannot 
 exist in the superior class without gradually extend- 
 ing itself into all the others ; that it is there still 
 more fatal, because their means are less, and be- 
 cause it absorbs funds of which they made a better 
 use ; and thus it every where substitutes useless 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 saying, that luxury con- 
 stitutes the prosperity of the state, that it animates 
 circulation, that it enables the poor to live. They 
 have made a theory for themselves. They 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. They af- 
 firm that it is this which makes the great difference 
 between public and private economy. They dare 
 not always positively say, that the more a nation 
 consumes the more it enriches itself. But they per- 
 suade themselves, and maintain that we- must not 
 reason on the public fortune as on that of an indi- 
 yidual, 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 means.* There 
 
 * See M. Germain Gamier, in his elementary principles of political 
 economy abridged. Paris printed by Agasse, 1796. Page xii of his ad- 
 vertisement, he says, formally, " The principles which serve as guides 
 in the administration of a private fortune, and those by which the 
 public fortune should be directed, not only differ between themselves, 
 but are often in direct opposition to each other.'* And page xiii, 
 " The 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 order 
 to consume, and that if we had no wants to satisfy 
 we should never take the trouble of producing any 
 thing. Nothing would then be to us either useful 
 or hurtful. It is also the cause, in this sense, why 
 industrious men produce only because they find 
 consumers of their productions. Hence it is said, 
 with reason, that the true method of encouraging 
 industry 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 that 
 consumption is the measure of production, for where 
 vent ceases production stops. This has also made 
 us say, that establishments of industry cannot be 
 multiplied beyond a certain term ; and that this 
 term is where, they cease to yield a profit : for then 
 it is evident, that what they produce is not worth 
 what 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 5 nor that we 
 
 tune, on the contrary, receives its increase from the augmentation of 
 consumption." Page 130, in the chapter on circulation, he likewise 
 says, "The annual production ought naturally to be regulated by 
 the annual consumption." Also, in the chapter on public debt, page 
 240, he adds, " The amendment and extension of culture, and conse- 
 quently the progress of industry and commerce, have no other cause 
 than the extension of artificial wants;" and concludes from this that 
 public 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. Al} this 
 is very superficial and very loose. 
 
182 
 
 augment our expenses at pleasure ; nor even that 
 luxury augments them, for it only changes them. 
 We must always return to production ; this is the 
 point of departure. To enjoy we must produce ; 
 this is the first step. We produce only by avail- 
 ing ourselves of riches already acquired : the more 
 we have of them, the greater are our means of pro- 
 ducing ; they are consumed in expenses of produc- 
 tions, they return with profit. We can expend 
 annually but this annual profit. The more of it we 
 employ in useless things, the less will remain for 
 those which are useful. If we go beyond them., 
 we break in on our capital ; 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 more, then, consumption is not riches ; and 
 there is nothing useful, under an .economical point 
 of view, but that which reproduces itself with 
 profit. 
 
 No sophistry can ever shake truths so constant. 
 If they have been mistaken, it is because the effect 
 has been taken for the cause $ and, what is more, 
 a disagreeable effect for a benificent cause. We 
 have seen, that when a nation becomes rich a great 
 inequality of fortunes is established, and that the 
 possessors of large fortunes addict themselves to 
 great luxury. It has been believed that this causes 
 a country to prosper ; and hastily concluded that 
 inequality and luxury are two very good things. 
 They ought, on the contrary, to have seen that 
 these are two inconveniences attached to prosperi- 
 
183 
 
 ty :* that the riches which cause them are acquired 
 before they exist ; and that if these riches continue 
 still to increase, it is in spite of the existence of 
 these inconveniences, and through the effect of the 
 good habits of activity and economy which they 
 have not been able entirely to destroy. But the 
 strongest personal interests contribute to give credit 
 to this error. Powerful men are unwilling to ac- 
 knowledge that their existence is an evil, and 
 that their expense is as useless as their persons. 
 On the contrary, they endeavour to impose by 
 pomp ; and it is not their fault if we do not be- 
 lieve that they render a great service to the state, 
 by swallowing 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 established, or rather increases in society ; and, when 
 we shall treat of legislation, we will likewise show that the excess of 
 inequality, and of luxury, is still more the effect of bad laws than of 
 tiie natural cause of things. 
 
 j- It is incredible to what length of illusion self-love leads, and 
 induces one to exaggerate to himself his personal importance. I 
 have seen men obliged, Ly 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 wages ; and sincerely persuade 
 themselves that even if their peasants should divide their effects, 
 or should buy them at a low price, they would only be the more 
 miserable. 
 
 I do not pretend to say that it was well done either 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 .respect for property and justice 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 
 apart of his small personal expenses; and that the mere suppression 
 of some feudal rights, produces more good to a country than all the 
 benefits of him who levied them. 
 
those who depend on them on whom they impose 
 awe, and who profit by their expenses, care very 
 little whether the money 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. They desire that this expense on 
 which they live should be very great ; and they 
 firmly believe that if it should diminish, they would 
 be without resources : for they do not see what 
 would replace it. It is thus that general opinion 
 is led astray, and that those even who suffer from 
 it are ignorant of the cause of their evils. Never- 
 theless, it is certain that the vicious consumption 
 called luxury, and in general all the consumption 
 of idle capitalists, far from being useful, destroys 
 the greater part of the means of a nation's prospe- 
 rity ; and this is so true, that from the moment 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. 
 
 What reason demonstrates history proves by 
 facts. When was Holland capable of efforts truly 
 incredible? When her admirals lived as her sailors 
 did when the arms of all her citizens were em- 
 ployed in enriching or defending the state ; and 
 none in cultivating tulips, or paying for pictures. 
 All subsequent events, political and commercial, 
 have united in causing its decline. It has preserved 
 the spirit of economy it has still considerable 
 riches in a country in which every other people 
 could with difficulty live. Make of Amsterdam 
 ihe residence of a gallant and magnificient court. 
 
185 
 
 transform its vessels into embroidered clothes, and 
 its magazines into ball rooms ; and you will see if 
 in a very few years they will have remaining even 
 the means of defending themselves against the ir- 
 ruptions of the sea. 
 
 When did England, in spite of its misfortunes 
 and faults, exhibit a prodigious development? Was 
 it under Cromwell or under Charles the second ? I 
 know that moral causes have much more power 
 than economical calculations ; but I say that these 
 moral causes do not so prodigiously augment all 
 bur resources, but because they direct all our ef- 
 forts towards solid objects : Hence means are not 
 wanting, either to the state or to individuals, for 
 great objects, because they have not been employed 
 in futilities. 
 
 Why do the citizens of the United States of 
 North America double, every twenty-five years, 
 their culture, their industry, their commerce, their 
 riches, and their population ? It is because there is 
 scarcely an idler among them, and the rich go to 
 little superfluous expense. Their position, I agree, 
 is very favourable. Land is not wanting for their 
 development : it offers itself to their labours, and 
 recompences 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. Their 
 neighbours, the Canadians, do they make the same 
 progress ? They are gentlemen, living nobly, and 
 doing nothing. 
 35 
 
183 
 
 Finally, let us take a last example, much more 
 striking still. France, under its ancient govern- 
 ment, was not certainly as miserable as the French 
 themselves have represented it to be ; but it was 
 not flourishing. Its population* and its agricul- 
 ture were not retrograde, but they were 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 the 
 knowledge of the age. She was 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, the 
 richness and extent of her soil, 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 considefation, and in nowise formida- 
 ble abroad. 
 
 Her revolution takes place : She has suffered all 
 imaginable evils : She has been torn by atrocious 
 wars, cjvil 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 : Her exterior commerce 
 has been annihilated : Her fleets totally destroyed ; 
 
 * I desire it to be remembered, that I do not regard the augmen- 
 tation of population as a good. It is but too often a multiplication of 
 miserable beings. I should greatly prefer the'augmentution of well 
 being. I cite here the increase of the number of men as a symptom 
 only, and not as a happiness. The abuse of competence is a proof 
 of its existence. 
 
187 
 
 chough often renewed : Her colonies, believed so 
 necessary to her prosperity, have been prostrated ; 
 and, what is worse, she has lost all the men and 
 money lavished to subjugate them : Her specie has 
 been nearly all exported, as well by the effect of 
 emigration, as by that of paper money : She has 
 supported fourteen armies in a time of famine 5 
 and, amidst all this, it is notorious that her popu- 
 lation and her agriculture have augmented conside- 
 rably in a very few years ; 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, without having had a single instant of 
 peace for repose, she supported enormous- taxes, 
 made immense expenditures in public works, -she 
 effected all without a loan ; and she had a colossal 
 power, which nothing on the continent of Europe 
 could resist, and which would have subjugated the 
 universe, but for the British navy. What 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 in producing the 
 riches which formed the immense revenues of the 
 court, and of all the rich class of society ; arid these 
 revenues were almost entirely consumed in the ex- 
 penditures of luxury ; that is to say, in paying an 
 enormous mass of population, whose whole labour 
 reproduced absolutely nothing but the enjoyments 
 of some men. In a moment almost the \vhole of 
 
188 
 
 these revenues, have passed partly into the hands 
 of the new government, partly into those of the 
 laborious class. They fed also all those who de- 
 rive their subsistence from them ; but their labour 
 was applied to useful or necessary things ; and it 
 has sufficed to defend the state from without, and 
 to increase its productions within. * 
 
 Ought we to be surprised when we consider that 
 there was a time, of some length, during which, by 
 the effect even of commotion and of the general 
 distress, there was scarcely in France a single idle 
 citizen, or one occupied in useless labours ? Those 
 who before made coaches, made carriages for can- 
 non ; those who made embroidery and laces, made 
 coarse woollens and linens ; those who ornamented 
 boudoirs, built parks and cleared land. And even 
 those who in peace rioted in all these inutilities, 
 were forced to gain a subsistence by the perform 
 ance of services which were wanting. A man who 
 kept forty useless domestics left them to be hired 
 by the industrious class, or by the state, and him- 
 self become a clerk of an office. This is the secret 
 of those prodigious resources always found by the 
 body of a nation in a crisis so great. It then turns 
 to profit all the force which in ordinary times it 
 suffered to be lost, without being aware of it ; and 
 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 ostentation ; and all those democratical virtues of 
 
 * The sole suppression of the feudal rights and tythes, partly to 
 the profit of cultivators, and partly of the state, enabled the one 
 greatly to increase their industry, and the other to lay an enormous 
 mass of new imposts; and these were but a small part of the reve- 
 nues of the class of useless consumers. 
 
189 
 
 poor ami agricultural nations, which are so ridicu- 
 lously vaunted without either their cause or effect 
 being understood. 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 thousand and loses them at play. But let the 
 same be done by a rich and enlightened nation, and 
 you will see the same development of force which 
 you have seen in the French nation, which has pro- 
 duced effects greatly superior to all that was ever 
 executed by the Roman republic : for it has over- 
 thrown much greater obstacles. Let Germany, for 
 example, during some years only, leave entirely in, 
 the hands of the industrious class the revenues which 
 serve for the pageantry of all its small courts, and 
 rich abbies, and you will see whether she will be a 
 strong and formidable nation. On the contrary, 
 suppose they should entirely re-establish in France 
 the ancient order of things, that a great mass 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 tilings, you 
 would again see there immediately, notwithstanding 
 its great increase of territory, languor in the midst 
 of resources, misery in the midst of riches, and weak- 
 ness in the midst of all the means of strength. 
 
 It will be repeated that I attribute solely to the 
 distribution of riches, and to the employment of the 
 labour they pay, the result of a multitude of moral 
 causes of the greatest energy. Once more, I do not 
 deny the existence of these causes ; I acknowledge 
 
190 
 
 it as ail others do ; but I do more, 1 explain 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- 
 just aggression, have alone been able to operate 
 these great revolutions in France ; but I maintain 
 that these have not furnished the passions with 
 such great means of success, (notwithstanding the 
 errors and horrors to which their violence led) but 
 because they produced a better employment of all 
 the national force. All the good of human society 
 is in the good application of labour ; all the evil in 
 its loss ; which, in other words, 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 
 well treated. It might be shown that luxury, that 
 is to say the taste for superfluous expense, is to a cer- 
 tain point the necessary effect of the natural disposi- 
 tionsof man to procure constantly new enjoyments, 
 when he has the means ; and of the power of habit, 
 which 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 of 
 industry, the progress of which it nevertheless ar- 
 rests ; and of riches, which it tends to destroy ; and 
 that for the same reason, also, when 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 and 
 renders its return impossible, unless some violent 
 shock, directed to this end, should produce a quick 
 and complete regeneration. It is the same with in- 
 dividuals. 
 
 It would be necessary to show, according to these 
 data, that in the opposite situation, when a nation 
 takes for the tirst time its rank among civilised people, 
 it is requisite, in order that the success of its efforts 
 may be complete, that the progpss of its industry 
 and knowledge should be much more rapid than 
 that of its luxury. It is, perhaps, principally to 
 this circumstance that we should attribute the great 
 advances made by the Prussian monarchy under its 
 second and third king, an example which ought to 
 embarrass a little those who pretend that luxury is 
 necessary to the prosperity of monarchies.* It is 
 this same circumstance which appears to me to en- 
 sure the duration of the felicity of the United Spates : 
 and it may be feared that the want of the complete 
 enjoyment of this advantage, will render difficult 
 and even imperfect the true prosperity and civiliza- 
 tion of Russia. 
 
 It would be necessary to say which are the most 
 injurious species of luxury. We might consider 
 unskilfulness in fabrication as a great luxury, for it 
 causes a great loss of time and of labour. It would 
 above all be necessary to explain how the great for- 
 
 * If luxury is necessary in a monarchal state, it is for the security 
 of the government, but not for the prosperity of the country. 
 
19S 
 
 tunes are the principal and almost only source of 
 luxury, properly so called, for it could scarcely ex- 
 ist if they were all moderate. JSven idleness in 
 this case could scarcely have place. Now this is a 
 kind of luxury ; since, if it is not a sterile employ- 
 ment of labour, it is a suppression of it* The 
 branches of industry which rapidly produce immense 
 riches bring then with them an inconvenience, which 
 strongly counter-balances their advantages. It is 
 not these we ought to wish to see first developed in 
 a rising nation. Of this kind is a very extensive 
 foreign commerce^ Agriculture, on the contrary, 
 is greatly preferable ; its products are slow and lim- 
 ited. Industry, properly so called, (that of manu- 
 facture) is likewise without danger and very use- 
 ful. Its profits are not excessive ; its success is 
 difficult to be attained and perpetuated ; it requires 
 much knowledge, and many estimable qualities ; 
 and its consequences are very favourable to the well 
 being of consumers. The good fabrication of objects 
 of first necessity is above all desirable. The ma- 
 nufactory of objects of luxury may also be of great 
 advantage to a country ; but it is when their pro- 
 duce is like the religion of the court of Rome 
 which is said to be for th at court an article of ex- 
 portation, and not of consumption ; and there is 
 always a fear of intoxicating ourselves with the 
 liquor we prepare for others. All these observa- 
 
 * The only idle who ought to be seen without reprobation, are 
 those who devote themselves to study ; and especially to the study of 
 man. And these are the only ones who are persecuted : there is 
 reason for this. They shew how useless the others are; and they 
 arenotthe strongest. 
 
193 
 
 turns, and many others, should be developed in the 
 book of which we are speaking ; but they would 
 be superfluous here. They 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 
 luxury ; I only wish to show its effects on general 
 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 morality ; which is 
 always much the most important, when the ques- 
 tion is on the interests of men. 
 
 The taste for superfluous expenses, the principal 
 source of which is vanity, nourishes and exaspe- 
 rates it. It renders the understanding frivolous, 
 and injures its strength. It produces irregularity of 
 conduct, which engenders many vices, disorders 
 and disturbances in families. It leads women rea- 
 dily to depravity men to avidity both to the loss 
 of delicacy and probity, and to the abandonment of 
 all generous and tender sentiments. In a word, it 
 enervates the soul, by weakening the understand- 
 ing; arid produces these sad effects not only on those 
 who enjoy it, but likewise on all those who serve it, 
 or admire it who imitate or envy it. This will all 
 be more clearly seen when we speak of our moral 
 interests. I could not avoid indicating it here. "We 
 must not confound things however intimately con- 
 nected they may be. 
 
 For the same reason it will not be expected sure- 
 ly that I should now discuss the question, whe- 
 86 
 
19* 
 
 ther luxury being acknowledged hurtful, we ought 
 to combat it by laws or by manners ; nor that I 
 should 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 establishment of facts. 
 I think I have solidly 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 expend is not to enrich. This small number of 
 very 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. 
 
 THIS subject is still very vast, although it is but 
 a part of that of which we have just treated. Many 
 writers would divide it into three books, which they 
 subdivide each into several chapters : but 1 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. This will not prevent me from enter- 
 ing also into details, and from distinguishing the 
 particular cases which are really different, perhaps 
 even with more exactitude than has been hitherto 
 done. 
 
 lu every society the government is the greatest 
 of consumers. For this reason alone it merits a 
 separate article in the history of consumption, with- 
 out which it would be incomplete. But for the same 
 reason, also, we can never perfectly comprehend 
 the economical effects of government, and those of 
 its receipts and expenditures, if we 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 combated 
 will re- appear here. Those who think that agricul- 
 tural labours alone are productive, do not fail to say 
 that in the end all imposts fall on the proprietors of 
 lands, that their revenue is the only taxable matter, 
 
196 
 
 that the territorial impost is the only just and useful 
 one, and that there ought to be no others ; and those, 
 who 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 consumption ; 
 that they animate circulation ; and that all this is 
 very favourable to the public prosperity. To see 
 clearly the vice of these sophisms, we must always 
 follow the same track, and commence by well 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 society ; for its members must be 
 judged, their affairs must be administered, they 
 must be protected, defended, guarantied from all 
 violence; it is only for this that they are united ia 
 society. It is no more doubtful, but that this go- 
 vernment must have revenues since it has expenses 
 to incur. But this is not the present question. The 
 question is, to know what effects these revenues, 
 and these expenses, 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 we have examined the other 
 consumers, that is to say we must see from whence 
 it receives the funds of which it disposes, and what 
 use it makes of them. 
 
 A first thing very certain is, that government can- 
 not be ranked amongst the consumers of the indus- 
 trious class. The expenditure it makes does noi 
 
197 
 
 return into its Lands with an increase of value. It 
 does not support itself on the profits it makes. I 
 conclude, 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 were existing, are consumed and destroy, 
 ed when it has availed itself of them. It remains 
 to be seen from whence it receives them. 
 
 Since the moral person, called government, does 
 not live on profits, it lives on revenues. It de- 
 rives these revenues from two sources. It possesses 
 estates in land, and it lays imposts. As to its estates 
 in land, it is absolutely in the same situation as the 
 other capitalists whom we have called idle. It 
 leases them aod receives a rent ; or if they are for- 
 ests, it annually sells the timber cut. The caVe 
 taken of forests, and which principally consists in 
 preserving them, does not merit the name of indus- 
 trious labour. The real labour which gives them 
 a value is that which consists in felling them, in sel- 
 ling and transporting them. If they belonged to 
 him who fells them, he would receive all the profit. 
 The price annually paid for the privilege of felling 
 them ought to be regarded as a rent levied on the 
 industry of the person who fells them : a rent ab- 
 solutely similar to that derived from a fishery, year- 
 ly rented to him who has the industry to take the 
 fish. Thus the revenues, derived from the estates 
 belonging to government, are, like those of allVther 
 rural property, created by the industrious men who 
 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 mast 
 necessarily be very expensive and little faithful. 
 Thus it does, with much unskilfulness, what another 
 proprietor would do better. But it must be remark- 
 ed, that this unskilfulness does not diminish, or 
 diminishes very little, the total mass of the produc- 
 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. 
 Now nothing prevents these lands being as well 
 cultivated, and their timber cut down and sold, with 
 as much intelligence as those of an individual. The 
 defect in their management consists in employing a 
 few more men than is necessary, and in paying them 
 a little too dear. Now this is no very great inconve- 
 nience. 
 
 I, on the contrary, see many advantages in the 
 governments having possessions of this kind. First, 
 there are some kinds of productions which it alone 
 can preserve in great quantity : such are forests of 
 large timber, the productions of which must be so 
 long waited for, that for the most part individuals 
 prefer the same, or even a smaller quantity of more 
 frequent returns. Secondly, it may be good that the 
 government should possess cultivated lands. It 
 will be better able to know more perfectly the 
 resources and the interests of different localities ; 
 and, if it is wise and benevolent, it may even profit 
 by this to diffuse a useful knowledge. Thirdly, 
 when a great mass of landed property is in the hand 
 of government, less remains at market. Now as this 
 kind of possession is always greatly desired, all 
 tMngs otherwise equal, the less there is to be sold 
 
199 
 
 the clearer it will sell, that is to say that for a sum of 
 one hundred thousand francs the buyer will 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 employments, 
 which is a great advantage. Fourthly, 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 comes 
 to 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 imposts. In fine, in a case of necessity 
 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, especially of 
 forests and large farms. One circumstance only 
 would be to be regretted, that this would prevent 
 these estates from falling into the hand of the indus- 
 trious class. 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 pqsses- 
 sion of those who work them, because this would 
 take from them too great a portion of their funds. 
 Now 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 that 
 they have not almost all declared their domains 
 inalienable, but they have also almost all sold or 
 given a very great part of them. The true revenue 
 on which 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 order to expend it itself; these then are 
 always sacrifices imposed on them. 
 
 If this sacrifice bears on the men who live on their 
 revenues, and who employ the whole of them on 
 their personal enjoyments, it would make no change 
 in the total mass of production, consumption arid 
 general circulation. All the difference would he, 
 that a part of the wages which these men paid, 
 would he 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 paVt of these profits which these men 
 employ in their personal enjoyments which is attack- 
 ed. It is these enjoyments which are diminished : 
 and the impost has the same effects as in the 
 preceding case. But if it goes so far as to annihilate 
 the profits of the industrious men, or even to touch 
 on the funds of their industry, then it is this in- 
 dustry itself which is deranged or destroyed ; and 
 consequently production, and in the end the general 
 consumption are diminished by it. Suffering pre- 
 vails every where. 
 
 Finally, where the impost falls on the hirelings, 
 it is evident they begin to suffer. If the loss rests 
 entirely on them, it is a part of their consumption 
 which is suppressed ; and which is replaced by that 
 of those whom the government pays with the inoney 
 taken from them. If they are able to throw it on 
 those who employ them by raising the price of their 
 "wages, it is then necessary to know by whom they 
 
201 
 
 arc employed ; and, accordingly as they are in the 
 employ of idle or industrious capitalists, this loss 
 will have one of the two effects which we have just 
 described in speaking of these capitalists. 
 
 I think this preliminary explanation must appear 
 incontestable, after the elucidations we have given 
 in speaking of consumption. At present the great 
 difficulty is to find on whom the loss occasioned by 
 the impost really falls : for all imposts do not pro- 
 duce the same effects, and thus are so multiplied that 
 it is impossible to examine^every one separately. I 
 think it best to arrange under the same denomination, 
 all those which are essentially of the same nature. 
 
 All imaginable imposts, and I suppose they have 
 all been imagined, may be divided into six principal 
 kinds, * viz. First, The impost on the revenues 
 of lands, such as the real tax, the twentieth the 
 manorial contribution in France, and the land tax in 
 England. Second, That on the rent of houses. 
 Third, That on the annuities due from the state. 
 Fourth, That on persons, as the capitation and poll 
 tax, sumptuary and furniture contributions, on patent 
 rights, on charters and freedom of corporations, 
 &c. &c. Fifth, That on civil acts and certain social 
 transactions, as on stamps, and registers, onvendues, 
 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 which 
 preserve the acts establishing them. Sixth, That on 
 
 * This is in my opinion the best method of classing them, to give a cl.ar 
 account of their effects. 
 
 37 
 
202 
 
 merchandise, whether by monopoly or sale, exclu- 
 sive, or even forced, as formerly of salt and tobacco 
 in France ; or at the moment of their first produc- 
 tion, as the taxes on salt ponds and mines, and 
 part of those on wines in France and on breweries 
 in England j or at the moment of consumption, or 
 on their passage from the first producer to the 
 ultimate consumer, as the customs interior and 
 exterior : the tolls on roads, canals, postage, and 
 at the entrance of cities, &c. &c.* 
 
 * A note communicated 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 \vhom the nature ds well as names of some 
 of them must be unknown. The taxes with which we are familiar class 
 themselves readily according to the basis on which they rest. 1. Capita). 
 2. Income. 3. Consumption. These may he considered as commensurate; 
 consumption being generally equal to income j and income the annual 
 profit of capital, a government may select Cither of these basis for the 
 establishment of its system 01 taxation, and so frame it as to reach the 
 faculties of every member of the society, and to draw from him his equal 
 proportion of the public contributions. And if this be correctly obtained, 
 it is the perfection of tlie function of taxation. 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 example, if the system be t sta- 
 bjished on the basis of income, and his just proportion on that scale lias 
 been already drawn ft-om every one, 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 tbe 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 
 twice for the same thing. It is an aggrievance on the citizens who uge 
 these articles in exoneration of those who do not, contrary to the most 
 sacred of the duties of a government, to do equal and impartial justice to 
 all its citizens. 
 
 How far it may be tbe interest and the duty of all to submit to this 
 sacrifice 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 home, or an excise on others injurious to the morals or health of the 
 citizens, will depend on a series of considerations, of another order, and 
 beyond te proper limits of this note. The reader, in deciding which basis 
 of taxation is most eligible for the local circumstances of his country, will 
 sf course avail himself of the weighty observations of our author. 
 
208 
 
 Each of these imposts has one or several man- 
 ners, peculiar to itself, of being burdensome. 
 
 At the first glance, we may see that the tax on 
 revenues from land has the inconvenience of being 
 difficult to assess with justice, and of annihilating 
 the value of all those lands whose 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 these lands 
 into a state for cultivation. 
 
 The tax on house rent, has the defect of lessening 
 the profit of speculations in building ; and so of 
 deterring from building houses to rent, so that 
 every citizen is obliged to content himself with 
 habitations less healthy, and less convenient, than 
 those he might have had at the same rent.* 
 
 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 
 promised for a capital received ; and it is illusory if 
 
 * I do not avail myself against this impost of the pi e.tentions of some 
 economists, that the rent of houses ought not to be taxed, or at least but ia 
 proportion to the nett revenue which would be yielded by the cultivation of 
 the land occupied by these houses, -all the rest being only the interest of 
 the capital employed in building, which according to them is not taxable. 
 
 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 pa|f purely gratuitous and 
 entirely due to nature ; which portion, according to these authors, is the only 
 legitimate and reasonable subject of taxation. 
 
 I have shown that all this is false, therefore I cannot avail myself of it 
 either against this or any of the following imposts ; which are all not only 
 reprobated in this system, but are declared illusory, as never being nor 
 possible to be, any thing but an impost on the revenue of lands, disguised 
 and additionally charged with useles expenses and losies. Such theOff- 
 is untenable when we know what is production. 
 
established on them at the moment of their 
 lion, for it would have been more simple to have 
 offered 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 gives 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 well 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. 
 
 The tax on civil acts, and in general on social 
 iransactions, cramps the circulation of real property, 
 ;aid diminishes their market value, by rendering 
 their transfer very expensive 5 augments so much 
 ihe 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, 
 which open Mm door to much iniquity and give 
 rise to a multitude of contentions and misfortunes. 
 
 As to taxes on merchandise, their inconvenien- 
 ces are still more numerous and complicated ; but 
 are not less disagreeable nor less certain. 
 
 Monopoly, or a sale exclusively by the state, 
 is odious, tyrannical, contrary to the natural right 
 
205 
 
 which every one has of buying and selling as he 
 pleases, and it necessitates a multitude of violent 
 measures. It is still worse when this sale is 
 forced, that is to say when government obliges 
 individuals, as has sometimes been done, to buy 
 things they do not want, under pretext that they 
 cannot do without them, and that if they do not 
 buy them it is because they have provided them- 
 selves by contraband. 
 
 A tax, levied at the moment of production, 
 evidently requires on the part of the producer an 
 advance of fund, which being long without return- 
 ing to him greatly diminishes his means of produc- 
 ing- 
 
 It is not less clear that all imposts levied either 
 
 at the moment of consumption or during the trans- 
 portation from the producer to the consumer, cramp 
 or destroy some branch of industry or of commerce; 
 render scarce, or costly, necessary or useful articles; 
 disturb all enjoyments, derange the natural course 
 of things ; and establish, between the different 
 wants and the means of satisfying them, propor- 
 tions and relations which would not exist but for 
 these perturbations, which are necessarily variable, 
 and which render the speculations and resources 
 of the citizens inevitably precarious. 
 
 Finally, all these taxes whatsoever on merchan^ 
 disc occasion an infinity of precautions and embarras- 
 sing formalities. They give place to a multitude 
 of ruinous difficulties, and are necessarily liable to 
 be arbitrary; they oblige actions indifferent in 
 themselves to be constituted crimes, and inflict pun- 
 ishments often the most cruel. Their collection is 
 
206 
 
 very expensive, and calls into existence an army 
 of officers, and an army of defrauders, men all lost 
 to society, and who continually wage a real civil 
 war, with all the greivous economical and moral 
 consequences which it brings on. 
 
 When we attentively examine each of these cri- 
 ticisms on the different taxes, we see that they are 
 well founded. Thus, after having shown that 
 every impost is a sacrifice, we find that we have 
 also shown that every impost has, besides, a man- 
 ner peculiar to itself of being hurtful to the con- 
 tributors. This is already a great deal, but it does 
 not yet teach us on whom precisely falls the loss 
 resulting from the impost, nor who it is that really 
 and definitively supports it. Yet this latter ques- 
 tion is the most important, and absolutely necessary 
 to be resolved in order to judge of the effects of 
 taxes on the national prosperity. Let us examine 
 it then with attention, without adopting any system, 
 and adhering scrupulously to an observation of 
 facts, as we have done hitherto. 
 
 As to the tax on the revenues of land, it is evi- 
 dent that it is he who possesses the land, at the 
 moment in which the tax is established, who pays it 
 really without being able to throw it on any one. 
 For it does not give him any means of augmenting 
 bis productions, since it adds nothing either to the 
 demand for articles, or to the fertility of the soil ; 
 and does not in any degree diminish the expense 
 of cultivation. All assent to this truth. But what 
 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 
 
so? 
 
 having lost that part of his capital, which would 
 produce this portion of income at the current rate 
 of interest. The proof is, that if a farm, yielding 
 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, 
 all other things equal, it will 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 whose value have not been changed. In 
 effect, when the state has declared that it takes in 
 perpetuity the fifth of the income of lauds, it is as 
 if it had declared itself proprietor of the fifth of 
 the capital, for no property is worth but^the utility 
 which may be derived from it. This 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 
 consummated ; 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 when Mr. Pitt 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 
 
208 
 
 effect they have lost it. And, in cate'of inheritances 
 abandoned as of no value, it is the creditors who 
 have lost the capital taken by the state from the 
 property which was security for their debt. 
 
 It follows likewise from this, that when the 
 state renounces the whole or part of a territorial 
 tax, anciently established as a perpetuity, it purely 
 and simply 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. For none of them 
 calculated on this capital, in the transactions by 
 which they became proprietors. 
 
 It would not be absolutely the same, if the im- 
 post had been originally established only for a de- 
 terminate number of years. Then 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 
 but this value from the lenders, to whom it might 
 have pledged this impost for the payment of their 
 principal and interest ; and the lands would have 
 been considered in the transaction but as deteriorated 
 to this amount. In this ease when the tax ceases, as 
 when the corresponding dividends of the loan are 
 exhausted, it is on both sides a debt extinguished, 
 because it is paid. On the whole the principle is 
 the same, as in the case of a tax and of a perpetual 
 rent. 
 
 It is then always true, that when a tax is laid on 
 land, a value equal to the capital of this tax is tak- 
 en at ,once from the actual proprietors; and that 
 
309 
 
 when all have changed owners, since the establish- 
 ment of the tax, it is really no longer paid by any 
 one. This observation is singular and important. 
 
 It is absolutely the same with the tax establish- 
 ed on the rent of houses. Those who possess 
 them at the moment it is established support the 
 entire loss, for they have ne means of indemnifying 
 themselves. But those who buy them afterwards 
 pay for them but in proportion to the charges with 
 which they are incumbered. Those who inherit 
 them, reckon them, in like manner, but at the value 
 which remains ; and as to those who build sub- 
 sequently, they make their calculations according to 
 the state of things as they are established. If no 
 room is left for useful speculation they defer build- 
 ing until the effect of scarcity raises rents. As, on 
 the contrary, if it was extremely advantageous 
 there would soon be funds enough employed there- 
 in to make it no longer preferable to any other em- 
 ployment of them. We conclude again that the 
 proprietors on whom the impost falls, lose the en- 
 tire capital, and that when all are either dead or 
 expropriated, this impost is paid but by those who 
 have no right to complain of it. 
 
 We may say the same of the taxes which govern* 
 inents sometimes permit themselves to impose on 
 annuities which they owe for capitals formerly fur- 
 nished. Certainly the unfortunate creditor from 
 whom this deduction is made suffers the entire 
 loss, not being able to throw it on any one ; but he 
 moreover loses the capital of the sum retained. 
 The proof is that if he sells his annuity he gets 
 so much the less, as it is more encumbered if other- 
 
 37 
 
210 
 
 wise the general rate of interest on money lias not 
 varied. Whence it follows that subsequent posses- 
 sors of this annuity no longer pay any thing : 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. We must distinguish between that which 
 is supposed to bear on acquired riches, and that 
 which is meant for the means of acquiring them, 
 that is to say on industry of some sort. In the 
 first case it is certainly always the person taxed 
 who supports the loss resulting from it, for he can- 
 not throw it on any other. But as the tax on every 
 one ceases with his life, and every one is succes- 
 sively subject to it, in proportion to his presumed 
 fortune, the first person taxed loses only the dues 
 which he pays, and not the capital, and does not 
 liberate those who come after him ; thus at what- 
 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. 
 
 As to a tax on persons, which has for its object 
 industry of some sort, it is equally true that he 
 who first pays it does not lose the capital nor liber- 
 ate those who are subjected to it after him ; but it 
 gives room for considerations of another kind. The 
 man who exercises a branch of industry at the mo- 
 ment in which it becomes burthened with a new 
 personal tax, such as the establishment or increase 
 of patent rights, the freedom of corporations, mas- 
 terships, or other things of the same kind, this man 
 I say has but two courses to pursue, either to re 
 
Bounce his occupation, or to pay the tax and sup- 
 port the loss resulting from it, if notwithstanding 
 this it still holds out a prospect of sufficient profits. 
 In the first case he certainly suffers, hut he does 
 not pay the tax ; therefore 1 shall not now occupy 
 myself with it. In the second case, it is he as- 
 suredly who pays the imposition, since neither 
 augmenting the demand, nor diminishing the ex- 
 pense, it does not give him any immediate mean of 
 increasing his receipts or lessening his expendi- 
 tures. But taxes are never all at once laid so 
 heavy as to ohlige inevitably 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. Thus 
 after the establishment of a tax of the kind we 
 speak of, none but those who are already ricty 
 enough to consider a diminished profit as no object, 
 or those who exercised their profession with so 
 little success, that no profits would remain to them 
 after paying the tax, would renounce their occupa- 
 tion. The others continue it ; and these, as we 
 have said, really pay the tax at least until rid of 
 the competion of many of their brethren, they could 
 avail themselves of this circumstance to levy it on 
 the consumers by making them pay 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. 
 The case is different with those who embrace it 
 after the tax has been once established. They 
 find the law made ; we may say that they engage 
 themselves on this condition. The. tax is for them 
 
SIS 
 
 among the expenses required by the profession, 
 as the necessity of renting a particular situation, 
 or of buying a particular utensil. They only enter 
 on this profession 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 possess. Thus they certainly ad- 
 vance the tax, but it does not really take any thing 
 from them. Those to whom it is a real loss are 
 the consumers, who 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 new 
 competitors. They find themselves 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- 
 viously to the tax, it is but a return to their first 
 state. We see that a tax on persons, founded on 
 industry, produces very different effects ; but its 
 general effect is to diminish the enjoyments of con- 
 sumers, since their furnishers do not give them 
 merchandise for that part of their money which 
 goes into the public treasury. 1 cannot enter into 
 more details ; but We cannot too much accustom 
 ourselves to judge of the different reverberations of 
 a tax, and to follow them in thought, in all their 
 modifications. Let us pass to the imposts on pa- 
 pers, deeds, records, and other monuments of social 
 transactions. 
 
This requires also a distinction. The portion 
 of this impost, which goes to augment the expenses 
 of justice, and which makes a part of it, is cer- 
 tainly paid by the parties on whom the judgment 
 throws the expense ; and it is difficult to say to 
 what class of society it is most hurtful ; however, 
 it is easy to see that it burdens particularly the 
 kind of property most liable to contention. Now, 
 as this is landed property, the establishment of 
 such an impost certainly diminishes its market 
 value. Whence it follows that those who have 
 purchased lands, since the existence of the tax, arc 
 a little compensated, in advance, by the smaller 
 price of their purchase ; and that those who pos- 
 sessed them before bear the entire loss if they have 
 any law-suit, and even sustain a loss without any 
 law contest, and without paying the tax, since the 
 value of their property is diminished. Consequent- 
 ly if the tax ceases, it is but a restitution for the 
 latter; and there is a portion of gratuitous gain 
 for the others, for they find themselves in a better 
 situation than that on which they had calculated, 
 and according to which they had made their specu- 
 lation. 
 
 All this is yet more true, and is true without 
 restriction, of that portion of the tax on transac- 
 tions which regards purchases and sales, such as 
 fines on alienation, the hundredth penny, amortise- 
 ment, and others. This portion of the tax is entirely 
 paid by him who possesses the property at the mo- 
 ment it is thus encumbered : for he who buys it 
 subsequently pays him but accordingly, and con; 
 spquently pays really nothing. AH that can be 
 
s#id, is that if this tax on deeds of sale of cert.iin 
 possessions is accompanied by other taxes on other 
 transactions which affect other kinds of property, 
 other employments of capitals, it will happen 
 that these possessions are not the only ones lessened 
 in value ; 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 kind of revenue is relative to that of 
 all the others. Thus, if all these losses could be- 
 exactly balanced, the total loss resulting from the 
 impost would be exactly and very proportionably 
 distributed. This is all that can be asked : for ii 
 must necessarily ^exist, since impost is always a 
 sum of means taken from the governed, to be 
 placed at the disposition of those who govern. 
 
 Imposts on merchandise have effects still more 
 complicated and various. To unravel them well, 
 let us recollect that all merchandise, at the moment 
 it is delivered to the consumer, has a natural and 
 necessary price. This price is composed of the 
 value of what has been necessary for the subsis- 
 tence of those who have fabricated and transported 
 this merchandise, during the time which they 
 were employed about it. I say that this price is 
 natural because it is founded on the nature of things 
 independently of all convention ; and that it is 
 necessary, because if the men who execute a labour 
 whatsoever do not obtain subsistence they perish, 
 or apply themselves to other occupations, and this 
 labour is no longer executed. But this natural 
 and necessary price has scarcely any thing in com- 
 mon with the market or conventional price of the 
 
215 
 
 merchandise, that is to say with the price at which 
 it is fixed by the effect of a free sale. Kor a thing 
 may have cost very little trouble, or if it has requir- 
 ed much ttbour and care it may have been found 
 or stolen by him who offers it for sale ; in these 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 will obtain this price, 
 and make an enormous gain. On the contrary it is 
 possible that a thing may have cost the vendor 
 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. In this case he will be obliged to part with it 
 for almost nothing, and will sustain a very great 
 loss. The natural price is then composed of anterior 
 sacrifices made by the vendor, and the conventional 
 price is fixed by the offers of buyers. These are 
 two things, in themselves foreign to one another. 
 Only when the conventional price of any labour is 
 constantly below its natural and necessary price, 
 it ceases to be performed. Then the produce of 
 this labour becoming scarce, more sacrifices are 
 made to procure it, if it is still desired, and thus 
 however little it is really useful the conventional 
 or market price re- ascends to the level of the price 
 which nature has attached to that labour, and which 
 is necessary to a continuance of its execution. It 
 is thus all prices are formed in a state of society. 
 
 It follows hence that those who exercise a labour, 
 the conventional price of which is inferior to its 
 natural value, ruin themselves or disperse, that 
 
216 
 
 those who execute a labour, or in other words exer- 
 cise an industry whatsoever, the conventional price 
 of 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. For the 
 fecundity of all living, even among vegetables is 
 such, that nothing but a want of nourishment for 
 the germs disclosed arrests the increase of numbers 
 of the individuals. This is the cause of the retro- 
 grade, stationary or progressive state of population, 
 in the human kind. Momentary 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. We 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. But it was well to bring 
 them again into view in this place. 
 
 Now it is easy to perceive that imposts on mer- 
 chandise, affect prices, in different ways, 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 example in the 
 case of monoply or exclusive sale, by the state, it 
 is clear that the impost is paid directly immediately 
 and without resource by the consumer, and that it 
 lias the greatest extension of which it is susceptible. 
 But this sale, if forced cannot however, either in 
 
price or quantity exceed a certain term, which is 
 that of the possibility of paying it. It stops 
 whenever it would be useless to exact it, or when 
 it would cost more than it would bring in. This 
 is the point at which the tax on salt was in France 
 and it is the maximum of possible exaction. 
 
 Jf the exclusive sale, be not forced it varies 
 according to the- nature of the merchandise, if it 
 be on articles not necessary in proportion as the 
 price raises the consumption diminishes ; for there 
 is but a certain sum of means in the whole society, 
 which is destined to procure a certain kind of enjoy- 
 ment : it may even happen, that a small increase 
 of price may greatly diminish the profit because 
 many renounce entirely this kind of consumption, 
 or are even able to replace it by another. But the 
 impost is always effectively paid by those who 
 persevere in, consuming. 
 
 If on the contrary the exclusive sale made by 
 the state, but by mutual agreement bears on an 
 article of the first necessity, it is equivalent to a 
 forced sale, for the consumption, diminishes truly 
 IB proportion as the price rises, that is to say, people 
 suffer and die, but as in fine it is necessary, it 
 always rises with the means of paying, and it is 
 paid by those who consume. 
 
 After these violent means, if we examine others, 
 more mild, we shall find their effects analagous^ 
 with a less degree of energy. The most efficacious 
 of these is a tax imposed on merchandise at the 
 moment of production, for no part escapes, not even 
 that, consumed by the producer himself, nor even 
 
 that which may be damaged or lost in warehouses, 
 
 38 
 
previously to being employed. Such is the tax on 
 salt levied on the salt ponds; that on wine at the 
 instant of the vintage, or before the first sale, and 
 that on beer at the breweries. We may also range in 
 the same class the impost on sugar, coffee, and 
 other such articles levied at the moment of their 
 arrival from the country which produces them : 
 for it is not till this moment they exist, for the 
 country which cannot produce them and which 
 is to consume them. 
 
 This tax levied at the moment of production, 
 if established on an article little necessary is as 
 limited as the taste we have for it. Thus, when 
 it was wished to derive a great revenue from 
 tobacco, pains were taken to render it a necessary 
 to the people. For if society is instituted for the 
 more easy satisfaction of the wants given us by 
 nature, and from which we cannot withdraw 
 ourselves, it seems that fiscality is destined to 
 create in us artificial wants, in order to refuse us 
 one part, and make us pay for the other. 
 
 When this same impost, at the moment of pro- 
 duction, is established on an article more neces- 
 sary, it is susceptible of a greater extension 5 how- 
 ever, if this article costs much labour and expense 
 in its production the extent of the impost is like- 
 wise soon stopt, no longer through want of a desire 
 to procure the article, but by the impossibility of 
 paying for it: for there must always reach the 
 producers a sufficient portion of the price for their 
 subsistence ; thus there is less remaining for the 
 state. 
 
219 
 
 Bat an impost displays all its force when the 
 article is very necessary and costs very little, 
 as salt for example : there all is profit for the 
 treasury ; accordingly its agents have always 
 paid a particular attention to salt. Very 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 taxing, and is equivalent to the process of 
 exclusive sale. Air and water, if they could 
 have appropriated them would have been objects 
 of taxation very heavy and very fruitful for the 
 treasury ; but nature has diffused them too widely. 
 I do not doubt but, in Arabia, revenue farmers 
 would draw great profit from a tax on water, and 
 so that no one should drink without their permis- 
 sion. As to air the window tax accomplishes as 
 much on that as is possible. 
 
 Wine is not a gratuitous present from nature. 
 It costs much trouble, care and expense ; and, 
 notwithstanding the necessity and the strong desire 
 we have to procure it, we should with 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 were not apprised 
 that apart of this burden falls directly on the land 
 planted in vines, and operates only as a great 
 reduction of the rents paid. In that way it has 
 the effect of a land tax, which is, as we have 
 seen to take 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. Thus the capitalist is impoverished. 
 
but nothing is deranged in the economy of society, 
 and this capitalist is obliged to sustain this loss, 
 whenever the land would yield him still less by a 
 change 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- 
 tion of the rent of the land, without touching the 
 wages of the production, and consequently with- 
 out increasing the price of the article. If in gene- 
 ral they have abstained from this tax, lam per- 
 suaded it is not from a superstitious respect, for 
 the principal nourishment of the poor, which has 
 otherwise been charged in many ways vvhirh en- 
 hance the price, but because they have been pre- 
 vented by the difficulty of superintending the entry 
 into every barn, a difficulty which in effect is still 
 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 substitute ; and they constitute al- 
 most the whole of their expenses, because they can 
 only provide for their most pressing wants. Thus 
 such a capitation is distributed, in proportion to 
 misery and not to riches in the direct ratio of wants 
 
and the inverse of means. In this way we may 
 appreciate imposts of this kind. But they are very 
 productive : for it is always the poor who consti- 
 tute the great number, and by this great number 
 great sums. They little affect those who could 
 make their complaints be heard ; and this deter- 
 mines in their favour. It cannot be dissembled, 
 that these are the two only causes of the preference 
 given to them. 
 
 As to imposts levied on different merchandises, 
 either at the moment of consumption or at their 
 different stations, as on the public roade, in the 
 markets, in ports at the gates of cities, in shops, 
 &c. &c. their effects have been already indicated 
 by those we have just seen resulting from exclusive 
 sale, or from a tax at the moment of production,, 
 These 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 road 
 or canal on which it is established. At the en- 
 trance of towns it affects directly only the consump- 
 tion made within their interior. (I suppose it 
 transit exempt from duty.) A tax levied in a 
 market or shop do^s not affect what is sold in the 
 county, or at extraordinary fairs. Thus it deranges 
 prices and industry more irregularly, but always 
 deranges them in the points on which 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 product* 
 
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 other that their conventional or 
 market price be greater than their natural or neces- 
 sary one, or merely equal to it, as to being lower, 
 we already know that impossible in the long run. 
 
 If the article taxed be of the first necessity it 
 cannot be dispensed with, it will always be bought 
 while there are means; and, if its conventional 
 piice be only equal to the natural one, the producer 
 can make no abatement ; thus all the loss will 
 fall on the consumer. Whence we are to con- 
 clude, that if the sale and the product of the tax 
 diminishes, it is the consumer who suffers and 
 perishes. 
 
 We must remark that in our old societies occupy- 
 ing a territory circumscribed long ago, and able tQ 
 acquire only lands already appropriated, this is 
 the case with all merchandises of the first necessity ; 
 for, by the effect of the long contention between 
 the contrary interests of the producer and consum- 
 er, every one is posted in the social order accord- 
 ing to his degree of capacity. Those who possess 
 some talent in sufficient demand to enable them to 
 exact payment beyond their absolute necessities, 
 will devote themselves to the employment so pre- 
 ferred. None but those who cannot succeed in 
 them devote themselves to the indispensable pro- 
 duclions ; because these are always in demand* 
 B u they are not paid more than is strictly neces- 
 sary ; because these are always inferior persons* 
 who can do nothing else. 
 
It is even necessary it should be so : these arti- 
 des of first necessity are the urgent wants of all, 
 and especially of the poorest of all the other classes 
 who consume without producing them, being occu- 
 pied in other productions ; thus the poor can sub- 
 sist only in proportion as these articles are easy to 
 be procured. 
 
 The more indispensable then a profession is, the 
 more inevitable it is that those who devote them- 
 selves to it for want of other capacity should be 
 reduced to the strictly necessary. The only direct 
 means of ameliorating the condition of these men, 
 the last in rank in society from their want of talent, 
 would be to persuade them to multiply less, and 
 to leave them always free to go and exercise their 
 feeble talent whenever it would be the most pro- 
 fitable. For this reason expatriation should always 
 be permitted. There are still some other political 
 measures which might indirectly concur in defend- 
 ing extreme weakness against extreme misery; 
 we will speak of them elsewhere. On the whole 
 these men, whom we compassionate with justice, 
 suffer still less than they would in the savage state. 
 The proof is that they vegetate in greater num- 
 bers, for man extinguishes but through excess of 
 suffering. 
 
 We have already said all this elsewhere, as 
 occasions presented themselves ; but it was very 
 necessary to repeat it here on the subject of taxa- 
 tiotf. For the history of the revenues and expen- 
 ses of government is the abridgment of the history 
 of production and consumption of the whole society; 
 since under this point of view government is but a 
 
very great annuitant, with whom authority stands, 
 instead of capital. Without too much forcing the 
 similitude between the circulation of riches and that 
 of the blood, we might say that the circulation ope- 
 rated by government in society, resembles entirely 
 the pulmonary circulation in an individual. It in 
 extracted from the total mass, and returns to 
 diffuse itself there again after having performed its 
 functions separately ; but in a manner absolutely si- 
 milar. 
 
 If the article taxed is not of the first necessity, 
 and if nevertheless its conventional price is but equal 
 to its necessary one, it is a proof that the consumers 
 liold feebly to this enjoyment. Then, the tax superve- 
 ning, the producer has no choice but to renounce his 
 occupation, and endeavour to find wa<resin somepther 
 profession; in which he will increase misery by his con- 
 currence, and in which he likewise is under disadvan- 
 tage from it, not being his own. Thus they perish, in a 
 great measure at least. As to the consumer, he loses 
 hat an enjoyment, to which he was little attached 
 apparently, because lie easily replaces it by another ; 
 which gives occasion to other wages. 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 one and this is the 
 ease with all articles of luxury, there is scope 
 for the treasury without reducing any one precisely 
 io misery. The same 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 almost the whole of what the impost takes 
 
from this total sura; but, as he gained more than the 
 necessary, he is not yet below it. However it must 
 be observed that this is only true in general. For 
 in this trade, supposed generally advantageous, there 
 are individuals who through want of skill or good 
 fortune, obtain only the slender necessary; and the 
 impost supervening, these are obliged to abandon 
 their profession; which is always a great suffering. 
 
 It is thus we may represent to ourselves with suf- 
 ficient accuracy the direct effects of the different im- 
 posts, local and partial, levied on merchandise in 
 their passage from the producer to the consumer. 
 But, besides these direct effects, these imposts have 
 others that are indirect, foreign to the first, or which 
 mix with and complicate them. Thus a heavy duty 
 on an important article, levied at the entrance 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 which produces 
 the dutied article, by rendering the sale less conside- 
 rable or less advantageous. Here 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 while it is believed that only the consumer 
 or producer is affected. This is so true, that these 
 proprietors, if it were proposed to them, would mak* 
 sacrifices to pay off a part of the funds of this impost; 
 or directly furnish a part of vtheir annual produce* 
 This we have seen a thousand times. 
 
 What is more, in our economical considerations 
 
 wo often regard as real consumers of an article 
 
 those only who effectively consume it for their 
 
 personal satisfaction ; yet they are by no means 
 
 89 
 
the only buyers of the article. Often the gi-eater 
 part of those who procure it purchase it as a first 
 material of other productions, and as a material of 
 their industry. Then 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. 
 They make apart of the expenses of all producers, 
 but in different degrees. 
 
 Finally, we must likewise observe, that the 
 imposts of which w r e are speaking never fall alto- 
 gether on a single article. They are at the same 
 time levied on many different kinds of goods, that 
 is to say on many species of productions and con- 
 sumptions. On each, according to its nature, they 
 operate some of the effects we have just explained ; 
 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. The burden which 
 oppresses one kind of consumption, prevents its 
 becoming a substitute for that which we wish to 
 renounce. Whence it results, that if it were pos- 
 sible so completely to foresee all these reverberations 
 as to be able perfectly to balance all the weights 
 and to place them all at the same time, so as to pro- 
 duce every where an equal pressure, no proportiou 
 would be changed by them. They \vould 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- 
 
sumer less enjoyment for his money. We might 
 consider imposts as good when to this general and 
 inevitable evil they do not join particular evils too 
 distressing. 
 
 I shall follow no farther this examination of the 
 different kinds of imposts. I think I have said 
 enough to enable all to judge of them, and especially 
 to show as clearly as that is possible on whom the 
 loss occasioned by them really falls. 
 
 In effect, we see first, that the tax on annuities 
 due by the state and that on the income of land, 
 are not only annually paid by those on whom they 
 fall without their being able to throw any part of 
 them on others but that they lose even the capital ; 
 so that after them nobody really pays any thing. 
 Secondly, that it is the same with the tax on the 
 rent of houses ; but that moreover it restrains 
 speculations in building, and diminishes the comfort 
 of tenants. Thirdly, that a personal tax, having 
 acquired riches for its object does no wrong but to 
 those 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 the 
 instruments of social transactions is really supported 
 by those from whom it is demanded, whenever the 
 occasion of paying it occurs ; but that its existence 
 alone is injurious to others, by reducing the price 
 of several things and shackling several kinds of 
 industry. Fifthly, that a personal tax which has 
 for its object any kind of industry whatsoever, 
 and all taxes on merchandise, burden first all those 
 from whom they are demanded ; and, moreover, 
 that they derange all prices and all kinds of in- 
 
328 
 
 dustry ; and that, by the e fleet of their numerous 
 reverberations they end by falling on all the con- 
 sumers, so as that we cannot precisely ascertain in 
 what proportions. 
 
 I know that these results, separated, distinguish- 
 ed, modified, will appear less satisfactory than a 
 very dogmatical decision which, treating the series 
 of the interests of men as a row of ivory halls, 
 should affirm that which ever is touched the last 
 only is put in motion ; but I could only repre- 
 sent things as I see them, and not as they may be 
 imagined. If extreme simplicity pleases the 
 understanding by relieving it, if even it is for this 
 that it creates abstractions, a good understanding 
 ought not to forget that this extreme simplicity is 
 found only in itself; and that even in mechanics, 
 as soon as there is a question of real bodies, it is 
 necessary to have regard to many considerations, 
 which have no place so long as we reason on 
 mathematical lines and points. Nevertheless, 
 urged by the desire of arriving at a positive prin- 
 ciple, I shall be asked perhaps, as I have been 
 already asked on a similar occasion, what is my 
 conclusion, and what is the tax which I prefer. 
 Having exposed the facts, I might leave to the 
 reader to draw his own consequences. But I will 
 give, my opinion with its reasons, warning however 
 beforehand that it will never be absolute, but 
 always relative ; for a tax is never good when it 
 is 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- 
 
sumption, being the only one that reproduces what 
 it destroy s, and being therefore the only source of 
 riches, 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 
 all ; but it is impossible to think of it, since we 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. Moral con- 
 siderations alone determine me invincibly. Society 
 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. No pecuniary 
 calculation can counterbalance such an inconvenience. 
 Its consequences are immense and fatal. The true 
 method of taxing annuitants is to administer well. 
 This causes them to receive but a low interest for 
 their money. 
 
 After this tax, of which we cannot think, the best 
 in 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 will be seen, that if I prefer the tax on 
 the income of land, it is not for the reasons of the 
 ancient economists. It is on the contrary, because 1 
 regard the proprietors of land as strangers to re- 
 production. Moreover, I consider these three im- 
 posts, which bear principally on the rich, as a com- 
 pensation for the imposts on merchandise, which lie 
 
230 
 
 eessarily oppress principally the poor. I have no 
 need to say that the tax on land ought not to be such 
 that much land would he neglected. 
 
 The tax on deeds and social transactions, notwith- 
 standing its inconvrtniencies, appear to me admissible 
 also, provided it be not exaggerated. Extending to 
 many things, it bears on many points, which is al- 
 ways an advantage ; and it does not press imme- 
 diately on the first wants of the poor, which is also a 
 great good. 
 
 As to taxes on merchandise, to which we must 
 join the personal tax which has presumed industry 
 for its object, I begin by rejecting absolutely all ex- 
 clusive sales ; and yet more, all forced sales, as well 
 as every measure tending to shackle the freedom of la- 
 bour, and to injure individual property, that is to say 
 the entire disposition of personal faculties. These 
 excesses provided against, I see nothing to forbid 
 the establishment of taxes on merchandise. First, 
 all those on articles purely of luxury are excellent^ 
 and have nothing but advantages without any ineon- 
 veniencies. They diminish the effects of the exces- 
 sive inequality of fortunes, by rendering more costly 
 the enjoyments of extreme luxury. They are the 
 only sumptuary laws 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 all cases it is the great number, 
 though too much despised, which constitutes the 
 force. We must therefore have recourse to taxes 
 on more useful merchandise, and even on those of 
 first necessity : for, in short, there must be a public 
 revenue. These, as we have said, bear principal- 
 
S31 
 
 ly on the poor ; but, SLS we have also said, tliev are 
 balanced by those which bear solely on the prep! !e~ 
 tors of land, and they justify them. Besides, levied 
 at the gates of cities, they contribute to desseminate 
 the population over the whole extent of the territory, 
 levied at the frontiers, they Inay be useful on some 
 diplomatic combinations, so long as sound policy 
 has 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 so 
 heavy as to crush any kind of industry ; and that 
 tLey be very various, that they may bear on all. 
 All are taken care of when all are so charged as that 
 each will sustain its part of the common burden, 
 for it must not be forgotten that our only question 
 here is ever how, to do the least evil possible ; and 
 tiiat when we have well distributed the necessary 
 evil, we have attained the maximum of perfection 
 in this art. 
 
 The expense of collection and the necesity of 
 punishments are likewise two accessory evils of 
 taxation, to which, some it is true are more subject 
 than others ; but on which I have nothing to say. 
 But that neither the one nor the other are carried 
 to extremes when the taxes are not excessive and 
 when not enforced by tyrannical forms. Thus I 
 regard them only as secondary considerations. 
 
 This is what I think of imposts. But is a more 
 precise conclusion desired ? Here it is. The best 
 taxes in my opinion are, first, the most moderate, 
 because they occasion fewer sacrifices, and less " 
 violence. Second, the most various, because they 
 produce an equilibrium of the whole. Third, 
 
S32 
 
 the most ancient, because they have entered into 
 all prices and that all are regulated in consequence. 
 Once more J fear that this decision will not be 
 satisfactory. It is not sufficiently striking to be 
 brilliant; but except in its moderation, (which is 
 often wanting through necessity) it is sufficiently 
 conformable with what is practised every where; 
 and if it be just as 1 think it is, it will be a new 
 example of an intellectual phenomenon very com- 
 mon, but which has not always 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 say 
 the general instinct) has less wandered from the 
 right road than the first scientific speculations. The 
 reason is simple. In practice we 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. Whereas 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. This is the cause of the 
 blind attachment so generally manifested for what, 
 ever is in use, and the great distrust inspired by 
 every new truth too contrary to it. This 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 
 
 We have little to say on this subject. We have 
 seen that government in every country is a very 
 great consumer, and a consumer of the kind of 
 those who live on revenues, and not on profits $ 
 that it is a very great annuitant with whom autho- 
 rity is instead of capital. Consequently all we 
 have said of this species of consumers is applicable 
 to it. Its expense does not re-produce itself in 
 its hands, with an increase of value, as in those 
 of industrious men. Its consumption is real and 
 definitive. Nothing remains from the labour it 
 hires. The riches it employs, and which did exist 
 before they passed into its hands, are consumed 
 and destroyed when it has made use of them, la 
 effect, in what consists the much greater part of its 
 expense? In paying soldiers, seamen, judges, 
 and officers of every kind, and in defraying all 
 the expenses required by these different services. 
 All this is very useful without doubt, and even 
 necessary in the whole, if the desirable economy 
 is employed in it ; but nothing of all this is produc- 
 tive. The expenditure which government may 
 incur to enrich the favourites of power is equally 
 sterile, and has not the excuse of necessity nor even 
 of utility. Accordingly it is still more disagreeable 
 to the public, which it injures instead of serving. 
 It is quite otherwise with funds employed in public 
 labours of a general utility, such as bridges, ports, 
 roads, canals, and useful establishments aad monu- 
 ments. These expenses are always favourably re- 
 garded, when not excessive. They contribute in efc 
 feet very powerfully to public prosperity. However 
 they cannot be regarded as directly productive, 
 
 40 
 
In the hands of government, since they do not 
 return to it with profit and do not create for it a 
 revenue which represents the interest of the funds 
 they have absorbed, or if that happens, we must 
 conclude that individuals could have done the same 
 things, on the same conditions, if they had been 
 permitted to retain the disposal of the sums taken 
 from them for this same use ; and it is even probable 
 that they would have employed them with more 
 intelligence and economy. Finally, we may say 
 the same things of what the government expends, 
 on different encouragements of the sciences and 
 arts. These sums are always small enough and 
 their utility is most frequently very questionable, 
 For 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. The human mind would advance very 
 rapidly if only not restrained ; and it would be 
 led, by the force of things to do always what is 
 roost essential on every occurrence. To 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 less true that, like 
 all the preceding, they are real expenses which do 
 not return. 
 
 From all this I conclude, that the whole of the 
 public expenses ought to be ranged in the class of 
 expenses justly called sterile and unproductive, 
 and consequently that whatever is paid to the state, 
 either under the title of a tax or even of a loan, i 
 
235 
 
 a result of productive labour previously executed, 
 which ought to be considered as entirely consumed 
 and annihilated the day it enters the national trea- 
 sury. Once more I repeat it, this is not saying 
 that this sacrifice is not necessary, and even indis- 
 pensable. Without doubt it is necessary that every 
 citizen, 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 necessary 
 to (he state ; as it is necessary to keep up his house, 
 that he may lodge in it in safety. But he should 
 know that it is a sacrifice he makes ; that what he 
 gives is immediately lost, to the public riches, as 
 to his own ; in a word, that it is an expense and 
 not an investment Finally, no one should be so 
 blind as to believe that expenses of any kind are 
 a direc ? cause of the augmentation of fortune ; and 
 that every person should know well that for politi- 
 cal societies, as well as for commercial ones, an 
 expensive regimen is ruinous, and that the best is 
 the most economical. On the whole, this is one of 
 those truths which the good ^ense of the people 
 had 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 
 expenses and of the debts which are their conse- 
 quence, the same principles will guide us. This is 
 likewise a subject on which the general good sense 
 has greatly preceded the science of the pretended 
 adepts. Simple men have always known, that 
 they impoverished themselves by spending more 
 than their income, and that in no case is it good to 
 
be in debt ; and men of genius believed and even 
 Wrote, not long since that the loans of government are 
 a cause of prosperity, and that a public debt is new 
 wealth created in the bosom of society. However, 
 since we are convinced, first, that the ordinary ex- 
 penses of government add nothing to the general 
 mass of circulation, and only change its course in 
 a manner most often disadvantageous ; Secondly, 
 that they are of such a nature, also, as to add nothing 
 to the mass of riches previously produced, from 
 Which they are taken, we ought to conclude that 
 the extraordinary expenses of this same govern- 
 ment being of the same nature as its ordinary 
 expenses, are equally incapable of producing either 
 the one or the other of these good effects. As to, 
 the ridiculous idea, that in issuing certificates of 
 dues from the state a new value is really created, 
 it does not merit a serious refutation : for if those 
 who receive these certificates possess a certain sum 
 the more, it is evident that the state which issues 
 them must possess an equal sum, the less ; other- 
 wise we must say that as often as I subcribe an 
 obligation of a thousand francs, 1 augmeqt the total 
 mass of riches by a thousand francs, which is 
 absurd. Thus 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= 
 derablc, ought we to felicitate ourselves on being 
 able to meet them by loans, rather than taxes ? or, 
 in other words, is it happy for the governed, that 
 the government should make use of its credit, or 
 
237 
 
 even that it should have credit ? This is the last 
 question which remains to be treated, before finish, 
 ing this chapter. I 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 necessities ; and thus that it 
 is the true palladium of society. 
 
 Yet I think I have good reasons for combatting 
 their opinion. I will say nothing of the grevious 
 effects of loans on the social organization, of the 
 enormous power they give to the governors of the 
 facility they afford them of doing whatsoever they 
 please, of drawing every thing tp themselves, of en- 
 riching their creatures, of dispensing with the as- 
 sembling and consulting the citizens ; which ope- 
 rates rapidly the overthrow of every constitution* 
 These things are not now my subject. I consider 
 in loans at this 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. 
 
 The first thing said in favour of loans is, that 
 the funds procured by these means are not taken in- 
 voluntarily, from any one. I think 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 loans, as loans, but as contributions. 
 When, therefore, the lenders carry their money to 
 the public treasury it is freely and voluntarily ; but 
 the operation does not end there. These capitalists 
 have lent, not given ; and they certainly intend to 
 
238 
 
 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 they demand for it. Thus, hy their 
 hligingness, they burthen without their consent not 
 only the citizens actually existing, but also future 
 generations. This is so true, that the kind of 
 easement, which their service produces for the pre- 
 sent moment, only amounts to a rejection of a part 
 of the burden on future times. 
 
 This circumstance, in my opinion, gives room for 
 a great question ; which I am astonished to have 
 seen no where discussed. A government of any 
 fcind,. whether monarchical or polyarchical, in a. 
 word of men nmv existing, has it a right thus to 
 hurden raen not yet in existence, and to compel 
 them to pay in future times their present expenses ? 
 This is not even the case of a testament ; against 
 which it has been said, with reason, that no man 
 lias the right of being obeyed after his death. For> 
 in fine, the society which for the general good takes 
 so many different powers from its individual mem- 
 bers may well grant them this, and guarantee it 
 if it is useful to them ; and the heirs of the testators 
 are always at liberty to accept or to refuse their 
 Inheritances, which at bottom belong to them only 
 in virtue of the laws which give them, and under 
 the conditions prescribed By the laws. But when 
 there is a question of public interest the case is 
 quite different. One generation does not receive 
 from another, as aa inheritance, the right of living 
 in society ; and of living therein under such laws' 
 as it pleases. The first has nor right to say to 
 
339 
 
 second, if you wish to succeed me, it is thus you 
 must live and thus you must conduct yourself. For 
 from such a right it would follow that a law once 
 made could never be changed. Thus the actual 
 legislative power, (whatever it be) which is always 
 considered as the organ of the actual general will> 
 can neither oblige nor restrain the future legislative 
 power, which will be the organ of the general will 
 of a time yet to come. It is on this very reason- 
 able principle that it is acknowledged in England 
 that one parliament cannot vote a tax but until the 
 commencement of another, or even until a new 
 session of the same parliament. 1 know well that 
 to apply this principle generally to the debts of $ 
 country where it is not admitted, and where prior 
 engagements have been entered into bona fide, 
 would be to violate public faith; and I have here, 
 tofore sufficiently manifested my profound belief 
 that such an act can never be either just pr 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 should 
 think it could not vote taxes but for one year, and 
 should think it could vote a loan on a perpetual 
 annuity or on long reimbursements: for this is to 
 vote a necessity for taxes sufficient to pay these 
 annuities 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 binding 
 on his successor. At least those who contract 
 with him know the risques they run and have no 
 
240 
 
 room for complaint of what may happen to them. 
 We shall soon see that this principle, put in prac- 
 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 paid but by taxes, the funds which 
 government procures by this mean end always in 
 being involuntarily taken from individuals; and. 
 what is worse, from individuals not obliged, because 
 they have never engaged either by themselves or 
 by their legitimate or legal representatives. 1 call 
 legal, those whom the existing law authorizes ; 
 and whose acts are valid, even if the law is not 
 just. 
 
 The second advantage which is found in loans, 
 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 
 hands of the state ; but idle capitalists only living 
 on their revenue, who choose this kind of annuity 
 rather than another. I answer that this second 
 advantage is not less illusory than the first. For 
 although it be true that those who lend to govern- 
 ment are not, in general, the men who have joined 
 their personal industry to their capital, to ren- 
 der them more useful in productive employments ; 
 yet it happens that there are many of these lenders 
 whom the facility of procuring a sufficient existence, 
 without risque or fatigue, has alone disgusted from 
 labour and thrown theni into idleness. Besides. 
 even admitting that all were equally idle if the 
 state had not borrowed, it is certain that if they 
 had not lent it their money they would have lent 
 
it to industrious men. From that time these indus- 
 trious men would have had greater capitals to work 
 on, and, by the effect of the concurrence of lenders, 
 they would have procured them at a lower interest. 
 Now these are two great goods of which the public 
 loans deprive them. In fine it cannot be denied 
 that without a bankruptcy, when a sum is borrow- 
 ed it must be repaid ; and, to repay it, it must be 
 levied on the citizens. Thus, sooner or later, it 
 affects industry as much and in the same manner 
 as if it had been levied at first. Moreover, there 
 must be added to this all the interest paid by the 
 state till the moment of reimbursement ; and it is 
 easy to see that in few years these interests have 
 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, 
 we think ourselves liberated and no longer owing 
 any thing ; and we do not or will not see that this 
 interest absorbinga part of the public revenue (which 
 was already insufficient) since we have been obliged 
 to borrow, is the cause that this same revenue 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 that a considerable 
 portion of all the riches annually produced is em- 
 ployed, not for the service of the state, but to sup- 
 port a crowd of useless annuitants. And to fill the 
 measure of our evils, who are these lenders? Men 
 not only idle, as are all annuitants ; but also coin* 
 
 41 
 
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 permanence of 
 the borrowing government, whatsoever it be or what- 
 soever it does; and at the same time having no de- 
 sire but to see it embarrassed, to the end that it may 
 be forced to keep fair with them and pay them better. 
 Consequently natural enemies to the true interests of 
 society, or at least being absolutely strangers 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 render them such. I add further, 
 that life annuities tend moreover to break family- 
 ties ; and that the great abundance of public effects 
 cannot fail of producing a crowd of licentious gam- 
 blers in the funds. The truth of what 1 advance 
 is manifested in a very odious and fatal manner in 
 all great cities without commerce ; and especially in 
 all the capitals in which this class of men is very 
 numerous and very powerful ; and has many means 
 of giving weight to their passions, and of pervert- 
 ing the public opinion. 
 
 It is then as erroneous to believe that the loans of 
 government are not hurtful to national industry, as 
 it is to suppose that the funds which they produce, 
 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. The great advantage of loans, in 
 the eyes of their partisans, is that they furnish in 
 a moment enormous sums, which could only have 
 been very slowly procured by means of taxes, even 
 the most overwhelming. Mow I do not hesitate 
 
to declare that T regard this pretended advantage 
 as the greatest of all evils. It is nothing else than 
 a mean of urging men to excessive efforts, which 
 exhaust them and destroy the sources of their life. 
 Montesquieu perceived it well. After having paint- 
 ed very energetically the state of distress and 
 anxiety to which the exaggeration of the public 
 expenses had already, in his time, reduced the 
 people of Europe, who ought by their industry to 
 have been the most flourishing, he adds, " And, 
 46 what prevents all remedy in future, they no longer 
 " count on the revenues ; but make war with 
 " their capital It is not unheard of * for states 
 " to mortgage their funds even during peace, and 
 " employ to ruin themselves means which they 
 " call extraordinary ; and which are so much so 
 " that an heir of a family the most deranged could 
 " with difficulty imagine them.f" 
 
 It will not fail to be said that this is to abuse 
 its credit, and not to use it ; and that the abuse 
 which may be made of it does not prevent its being 
 good to have it. I answer, first, that the abuse is 
 inseparable from the use, and experience proves 
 it. It is scarcely two hundred years since the 
 progress of civilization, of industry, of commerce, 
 that of the social order, and perhaps also the 
 increase of specie, have given to governments the 
 facility of making loans ; and in this short space 
 of time these dangerous expedients have led them 
 all either to total or partial bankruptcies, some- 
 
 * He ought to have said, ' it is frequent'. 
 f Spirit of laws, book I3tb, Chap. \" 
 
times repeated, or to the equally shameful and 
 more previous resource of paper money, or to re- 
 main overburdened under the weight of a load 
 which daily becomes more insupportable. 
 
 But I go farther. 1 maintain that the evil is not 
 in the abuse ; but in the use itself of loans, that is 
 to say that the abuse and the use are one and the 
 same thing; and that every time a government 
 borrows it takes a step towards its ruin. The rea- 
 son of this is simple : A loan may be a good opera- 
 tion for an industrious man, whose consumption 
 reproduces with profit. By means of the sums 
 which ; he borrows, he augments this productive 
 consumption ; and with it his profits. But a go- 
 vernment which is a consumer of the class of those 
 whose consumption is sterile and destructive, dissi- 
 pates whatMt borrows, it is so much lost for ever ; 
 and it remains burdened with a deht, which is so 
 much taken from its future means.* This cannot 
 be otherwise. In several countries they have com- 
 menced, by being long without feeling the bad 
 effects of these operations; because the progress 
 of industry and the arts being very great at this 
 epoch, their advance has been found more rapid 
 than that of the. debt ; and the means of the govern- 
 ment have not failed to augment also. Many 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 evil ; but 
 this evil was not the less real ; and nobody now 
 undertakes to deny it. 
 
 These cogent reasons are answered by the excuse 
 which is usual where no other remains. Necessity ; 
 
245 
 
 but I insist, and affirm, that in the present case 
 necessity itself is no excuse : for it is this very 
 remedy which creates the obligation we are under 
 to have recourse to it. I will explain 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 make the greatest efforts to free itself from 
 it. But a body politic does not naturally find itself 
 placed in such a situation. Always some 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 own 
 affairs, it has sought to avail itself of it to meddle 
 unreasonably with those of others : it has abused 
 its 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. These are, in effect, the faults which com- 
 monly bring on the necessity of making excessive 
 efforts, and of having recourse to loans ; and if it 
 is true that it is by the foolish confidence inspired 
 by this pernicious resource, that governments have 
 been led into these faults, it will be agreed that 
 the credit which is regarded as a remedy to these 
 evils is their true cause. Now 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 years, 
 that they have no longer set bounds either to their 
 prodigality, or their ambition, or their projects, that 
 they have augmented their armies, multiplied their 
 
intrigues, and that they have adopted that intermed- 
 dling policy with which it is impossible to avoid 
 war or enjoy peace. These are the effects of this 
 public credit which is regarded as so great a good. 
 But, at least, is it useful in imminent dangers? No. 
 There is no imminent danger for a nation, except 
 a sudden invasion of its territory. In this extreme 
 case it is not money which saves it, it is the concourse 
 of. force, it is the union of wills. Requisitions 
 supply necessaries, levies in mass furnish men ; 
 loans are of no use. The 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 necessity. 
 Then peace is made. It would have been sooner 
 made if the government had not had credit, or rather 
 there would have heen no war. And, when this 
 tardy and forced peace is signed, it is perceived 
 tint of all the losses 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. From 
 all this I conclude anew, that what is called public 
 credit, is the poison which rapidly enough destroys 
 modern governments. 
 
 I will not, however, advise a law which should 
 forbid 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, like 
 the evil which it is meant^ to destroy, on thi false 
 
principle : that the actual legislative power can 
 bind the legislative power of futurity : useless 
 because the first thing that would be done by those 
 who, in the sequel, should wish to borrow would 
 be to abolish the law which forbids them ; and thus 
 would have a right to do it. 1 should wish then 
 quite a different course to be pursued. I should 
 wish them, on the contrary, to recognise and pro- 
 claim this principle of eternal truth : that whatsoever 
 is decreed by any legislature whatsoever, their suc- 
 cessors can always modify, change, annul ; and 
 that it should be solemnly declared, that in future 
 this salutary principle shall be applied, as if ought 
 to be, to the engagements which a government may 
 make with money lenders. By this the evil would 
 be destroyed in its root : for capitalists, having no 
 longer any guarantee, would no longer lend ; many 
 misfortunes would be prevented, and this would 
 be a new proof that the evils of humanity proceed 
 always from some error, and that truth cures them. 
 It is by this wish that I will terminate what I had 
 to say of the revenues and expenses of government, 
 and that I will finish this first part of the treatise 
 on the will. Only, before passing to the second I 
 will yet present to the reader some reflexions on 
 what we have so far seen. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 WE are now arrived at a remarkable point on 
 the road over which 1 had proposed to travel. I 
 ask permission to stop here for a moment. 1 will 
 again repeat to the reader, that what he has just 
 read is not properly 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 understanding. 
 .Every thing here then ought to be co-ordinate with 
 what precedes, and what will follow. Thus it 
 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 wants and of our means, if I had not endea- 
 voured to show how these wants and means arise 
 from our faculty of willing, and if I had neglected 
 to point out the relations of our physical with our 
 moral wants. 
 
 It is that I may not merit these reproaches that 
 I have commenced by a very general introduction, 
 which no more belongs to economy than to morality 
 or to legislation ; but in which I have endeavoured 
 dearly to explain what are the ideas for which we are 
 indebted to our faculty of willing, and without which 
 these three sciences would not exist for us. I shall 
 be told that this introduction is too metaphysical. J 
 answer that it conld not be otherwise, and that it is 
 
precisely because it is very metaphysical that there 
 is no bud metaphysics in the rest of the work. For 
 nothing can so effectually preserve us from sophisms 
 and illusions, as to begin by well elucidating the 
 principal ideas. We have not been long without 
 proofs of this. 
 
 In fact after having well observed the manner 
 in which we know our wants, our original weakness, 
 and our propensity to sympathy, we were no longer 
 in any doubt on the nature of society. We 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 exchanges, 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) are to produce a 
 concurrence of force, the increase and preservation 
 of knowledge, and the division of labour. 
 
 After having examined in like manner our means 
 of providing Por our wants, we have also seen that 
 our individual force is our only primitive riches ; 
 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 always and solely to add a degree 
 of utility to the things on which it is exercised, 
 and to furnish objects of consumption and means 
 of existence. 
 
 Ascending always to the observation of our facul- 
 ties, since personality and property are necessary it 
 is evident that inequality is inevitable. But it is 
 
an evil. We have seen what are the causes of its 
 exaggerated increase, and what its fatal effects. 
 
 These 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 men, the 
 hired and the hirers, opposed in interest in the 
 respect, that the one selling their labor wishes to 
 sell dear, and the other buying it wishes to buy 
 cheap. 
 
 Aikiongst those who buy labour, some (the idle 
 rich) employ it only in their personal satisfaction; 
 its value is destroyed. The others (these are the 
 undertakers of industry) employ it in a useful man- 
 ner, which reproduces what it has cost. These 
 alone preserve and increase the riches already ac- 
 quired ; these alone furnish to the other capitalists 
 the revenues which they consume, since doing no- 
 thing, they can derive no benefit from their capitals, 
 whether movcable or iinmoveable, but by hiring 
 them to industrious men in consideration of a rent, 
 which the latter pay out of their profits. The 
 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 human 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 dispute them. They lead us to 
 consequences no less certain. 
 
 After having seen what society is, it is impossible 
 not to reject the idea of foregoing it absolutely, or of 
 founding it on an entire 'renunciation of one's self, 
 and on a chimerical equality. 
 
 After having well unraveled the effects of our in- 
 dustry, it is impossible not to see that there is no- 
 thing more mysterious in agricultural industry than 
 in any other, but we discover the inconveniences 
 which are proper to it, and which are fhe 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 ; and odious to un- 
 dertake to give it an arbitrary value, or forcibly to 
 replace it by an imaginary value ; and that every 
 establishment which tends towards this end is dan- 
 gerous and pernicious. 
 
 When we have seen how the formation of our 
 riches is operated and their continual renovation, 
 which we call circulation, we necessarily see that 
 consumption in itself can never be useful, and that 
 the exaggerated consumption, called luxury, is al- 
 ways hurtful : and we cannot otherwise than find re- 
 
253 
 
 diculous, the importance ascribed to men wlio have 
 no other merit but of being consumers, as if that 
 were a very rare talent. 
 
 Just views of consumption give necessarily just 
 ideas on that greatest of consumers, government ; 
 on the effects of its expenses, its debts, and the dif- 
 ferent imposts which compose its revenues, and lead 
 us clearly to trace the different reflections of these 
 assessments, and to estimate the greater or less evil 
 they do, according to the different classes of men on 
 Which they fall. 
 
 All these consequences are rigorous. They 
 will not be the less contested. It was necessary 
 then, to arrive at them methodically. Eut those 
 above all, which will experience the greatest opposi- 
 tion, are what lead us to determine the degrees of 
 importance of the different classes of society. How 
 persuade fche great rural proprietors, so much cried 
 up, that they are but lenders of money, burdensome 
 to agriculture and strangers to all its interests? 
 How convince these idle rich, so much respected, 
 that they are absolutely good for nothing; and that 
 their' existence is an evil, inasmuch as it diminishes 
 the number of useful labourers ? How obtain ac- 
 knowledgement from all those who hire labour, 
 that the clearness of workmanship is a desirable 
 thing; ?nd that, in general, all the true interests of 
 the poor ?:re exactly the same as the true interest of 
 the whole society. It is not merely their interests, 
 well or ill understood, which oppose these truths, it 
 is their passion ; and among these passions, the 
 most violent and antisocial of all, vanity. "With 
 them demonstration, or at least conviction is no 
 
longer possible ; for the passions know how to ob- 
 scure and entangle everything; and it is with as 
 much reason as ingenuity, that Hobbes has s:id, 
 that if men had a lively desire not to believe that two 
 and two fnake four, they would have succeeded in 
 rendering this truth doubtful/; we might produce 
 proofs of it. 
 
 On many occasions, then, it is still more difficult 
 to conciliate to truth than to discover it. This ob- 
 servation discovers to us a new relation between the 
 subject we have treated of, and that which is next 
 to occupy us, between the study of our actions and 
 that of our sentiments. We have perceived, and 
 said, that we should know well the consequences 
 of our actions, to appreciate justly, the merit or de- 
 merit of the sentiments which urse us to this or 
 
 O 
 
 that action ; and now we see that it is necessary to 
 analyze our sentiments themselves, submit them to 
 a rigorous examination, distinguish those which be- 
 ing founded on just judgments always direct us 
 well, and those which having their source in illu- 
 sions, and rising from the obliquities of our minds, 
 cannot fail to lead us astray and form within us a 
 false and blind conscience, which always removes 
 us further from the road of reason, the only one lead- 
 ing to happiness. This is what we shall next in- 
 vestigate, and if we have well exposed the results of 
 the actions of men, and the effects of their passions, 
 it seems that it will be easy to indicate the rules 
 which they ought to prescribe to themselves. Tins 
 would be the true spirit of laws and the best conclu- 
 sion of a treatise on the will. 
 



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