You understand, of course, that I give but the substance of the

dialogue.

At the end of three moons the Celestial Emperor had the Mandarin

brought, and said to him: "Kouang, look."

And Kouang, opening his eyes, looked.

He saw at a certain distance from the canal a multitude of men

_laboring_. Some excavated, some filled up, some leveled, and some laid

pavement, and the Mandarin, who was very learned, thought to himself:

They are making a road.

At the end of three more moons, the Emperor, having called Kouang, said

to him: "Look."

And Kouang looked.

And he saw that the road was made; and he noticed that at various

points, inns were building. A medley of foot passengers, carriages and

palanquins went and came, and innumerable Chinese, oppressed by fatigue,

carried back and forth heavy burdens from Tchin to Tchan, and from Tchan

to Tchin, and Kouang said: It is the destruction of the canal which has

given labor to these poor people. But it did not occur to him that this

labor was _diverted_ from other employments.

Then more moons passed, and the Emperor said to Kouang: "Look."

And Kouang looked.

He saw that the inns were always full of travelers, and that they being

hungry, there had sprung up, near by, the shops of butchers, bakers,

charcoal dealers, and bird's nest sellers. Since these worthy men could

not go naked, tailors, shoemakers and umbrella and fan dealers had

settled there, and as they do not sleep in the open air, even in the

Celestial Empire, carpenters, masons and thatchers congregated there.

Then came police officers, judges and fakirs; in a word, around each

stopping place there grew up a city with its suburbs.

Said the Emperor to Kouang: "What do you think of this?"

And Kouang replied: "I could never have believed that the destruction of

a canal could create so much labor for the people." For he did not think

that it was not labor created, but _diverted_; that travelers ate when

they went by the canal just as much as they did when they were forced to

go by the road.

However, to the great astonishment of the Chinese, the Emperor died, and

this Son of Heaven was committed to earth.

His successor sent for Kouang, and said to him: "Clean out the canal."

And Kouang said to the new Emperor: "Son of Heaven, you are doing

wrong."

And the Emperor replied: "Kouang, you are foolish."

But Kouang persisted and said: "My Lord, what is your object?"

"My object," said the Emperor, "is to facilitate the movement of men and

things between Tchin and Tchan; to make transportation less expensive,

so that the people may have tea and clothes more cheaply."

But Kouang was in readiness. He had received, the evening before, some

numbers of the _Moniteur Industriel_, a Chinese paper. Knowing his

lesson by heart, he asked permission to answer, and, having obtained it,

after striking his forehead nine times against the floor, he said: "My

Lord, you try, by facilitating transportation, to reduce the price of

articles of consumption, in order to bring them within the reach of the

people; and to do this you begin by making them lose all the labor which

was created by the destruction of the canal. Sire, in political economy,

absolute cheapness"--

The Emperor. "I believe that you are reciting something."

Kouang. "That is true, and it would be more convenient for me to read."

Having unfolded the _Esprit Public_, he read: "In political economy the

absolute cheapness of articles of consumption is but a secondary

question. The problem lies in the equilibrium of the price of labor and

that of the articles necessary to existence. The abundance of labor is

the wealth of nations, and the best economic system is that which

furnishes them the greatest possible amount of labor. Do not ask whether

it is better to pay four or eight cents cash for a cup of tea, or five

or ten shillings for a shirt. These are puerilities unworthy of a

serious mind. No one denies your proposition. The question is, whether

it is better to pay more for an article, and to have, through the

abundance and price of labor, more means of acquiring it, or whether it

is better to impoverish the sources of labor, to diminish the mass of

national production, and to transport articles of consumption by canals,

more cheaply it is true, but, at the same time, to deprive a portion of

our laborers of the power to buy them, even at these reduced prices."

The Emperor not being altogether convinced, Kouang said to him: "My

Lord, be pleased to wait. I have the _Moniteur Industriel_ to quote

from."

But the Emperor said: "I do not need your Chinese newspapers to tell me

that to create _obstacles_ is to turn labor in that direction. Yet that

is not my mission. Come, let us clear out the canal, and then we will

reform the tariff."

Kouang went away plucking out his beard, and crying: Oh, Fo! Oh, Pe! Oh,

Le! and all the monosyllabic and circumflex gods of Cathay, take pity on

your people; for, there has come to us an Emperor of the _English

school_, and I see very plainly that, in a little while, we shall be in

want of everything, since it will not be necessary for us to do

anything!

VIII.

POST HOC, ERGO PROPTER HOC.

"After this, therefore on account of this." The most common and the most

false of arguments.

Real suffering exists in England.

This occurrence follows two others:

First. The reduction of the tariff.

Second. The loss of two consecutive harvests.

To which of these last two circumstances is the first to be attributed?

The protectionists do not fail to exclaim: "It is this cursed freedom

which does all the mischief. It promised us wonders and marvels; we

welcomed it, and now the manufactories stop and the people suffer."

Commercial freedom distributes, in the most uniform and equitable

manner, the fruits which Providence grants to the labor of man. If these

fruits are partially destroyed by any misfortune, it none the less looks

after the fair distribution of what remains. Men are not as well

provided for, of course, but shall we blame freedom or the bad harvest?

Freedom rests on the same principle as insurance. When a loss happens,

it divides, among a great many people, and a great number of years,

evils which without it would accumulate on one nation and one season.

But have they ever thought of saying that fire was no longer a scourge,

since there were insurance companies?

In 1842, '43 and '44, the reduction of taxes began in England. At the

same time the harvests were very abundant, and we can justly believe

that these two circumstances had much to do with the wonderful

prosperity shown by that country during that period.

In 1845 the harvest was bad, and in 1846 it was still worse. Breadstuffs

grew dear, the people spent their money for food, and used less of other

articles. There was a diminished demand for clothing; the manufactories

were not so busy, and wages showed a declining tendency. Happily, in the

same year, the restrictive barriers were again lowered, and an enormous

quantity of food was enabled to reach the English market. If it had not

been for this, it is almost certain that a terrible revolution would now

fill Great Britain with blood.

Yet they make freedom chargeable with disasters, which it prevents and

remedies, at least in part.

A poor leper lived in solitude. No one would touch what he had

contaminated. Compelled to do everything for himself, he dragged out a

miserable existence. A great physician cured him. Here was our hermit in

full possession of the _freedom of exchange_. What a beautiful prospect

opened before him! He took pleasure in calculating the advantages,

which, thanks to his connection with other men, he could draw from his

vigorous arms. Unluckily, he broke both of them. Alas! his fate was most

miserable. The journalists of that country, witnessing his misfortune,

said: "See to what misery this ability to exchange has reduced him!

Really, he was less to be pitied when he lived alone."

"What!" said the physician; "do not you consider his two broken arms? Do

not they form a part of his sad destiny? His misfortune is to have lost

his arms, and not to have been cured of leprosy. He would be much more

to be pitied if he was both maimed and a leper."

_Post hoc, ergo propter hoc_; do not trust this sophism.

IX.

ROBBERY BY BOUNTIES.

They find my little book of _Sophisms_ too theoretical, scientific, and

metaphysical. Very well. Let us try a trivial, commonplace, and, if

necessary, coarse style. Convinced that the public is _duped_ in the

matter of protection, I have desired to prove it. But the public wishes

to be shouted at. Then let us cry out:

"Midas, King Midas, has asses' ears!"

An outburst of frankness often accomplishes more than the politest

circumlocution.

To tell the truth, my good people, _they are robbing you_. It is harsh,

but it is true.

The words _robbery_, _to rob_, _robber_, will seem in very bad taste to

many people. I say to them as Harpagon did to Elise, Is it the _word_ or

the _thing_ that alarms you?

Whoever has fraudulently taken that which does not belong to him, is

guilty of robbery. (_Penal Code, Art. 379._)

_To rob_: To take furtively, or by force. (_Dictionary of the Academy._)

_Robber_: He who takes more than his due. (_The same._)

Now, does not the monopolist, who, by a law of his own making, obliges

me to pay him twenty francs for an article which I can get elsewhere for

fifteen, take from me fraudulently five francs, which belong to me?

Does he not take it furtively, or by force?

Does he not require of me more than his due?

He carries off, he takes, he demands, they will say, but not _furtively_

or _by force_, which are the characteristics of robbery.

When our tax levy is burdened with five francs for the bounty which this

monopolist carries off, takes, or demands, what can be more _furtive_,

since so few of us suspect it? And for those who are not deceived, what

can be more _forced_, since, at the first refusal to pay, the officer is

at our doors?

Still, let the monopolists reassure themselves. These robberies, by

means of bounties or tariffs, even if they do violate equity as much as

robbery, do not break the law; on the contrary, they are perpetrated

through the law. They are all the worse for this, but they have nothing

to do with _criminal justice_.

Besides, willy-nilly, we are all _robbers_ and _robbed_ in the business.

Though the author of this book cries _stop thief_, when he buys, others

can cry the same after him, when he sells. If he differs from many of

his countrymen, it is only in this: he knows that he loses by this game

more than he gains, and they do not; if they did know it, the game would

soon cease.

Nor do I boast of having first given this thing its true name. More than

sixty years ago, Adam Smith said:

"When manufacturers meet it may be expected that a conspiracy will be

planned against the pockets of the public." Can we be astonished at this

when the public pay no attention to it?

An assembly of manufacturers deliberate officially under the name of

_Industrial League_. What goes on there, and what is decided upon?

I give a very brief summary of the proceedings of one meeting:

"A Ship-builder. Our mercantile marine is at the last gasp (warlike

digression). It is not surprising. I cannot build without iron. I can

get it at ten francs _in the world's market_; but, through the law, the

managers of the French forges compel me to pay them fifteen francs. Thus

they take five francs from me. I ask freedom to buy where I please.

"An Iron Manufacturer. _In the world's market_ I can obtain

transportation for twenty francs. The ship-builder, through the law,

requires thirty. Thus he _takes_ ten francs from me. He plunders me; I

plunder him. It is all for the best.

"A Public Official. The conclusion of the ship-builder's argument is

highly imprudent. Oh, let us cultivate the touching union which makes

our strength; if we relax an iota from the theory of protection,

good-bye to the whole of it.

"The Ship-builder. But, for us, protection is a failure. I repeat that

the shipping is nearly gone.

"A Sailor. Very well, let us raise the discriminating duties against

goods imported in foreign bottoms, and let the ship-builder, who now

takes thirty francs from the public, hereafter take forty.

"A Minister. The government will push to its extreme limits the

admirable mechanism of these discriminating duties, but I fear that it

will not answer the purpose.

"A Government Employe. You seem to be bothered about a very little

matter. Is there any safety but in the bounty? If the consumer is

willing, the tax-payer is no less so. Let us pile on the taxes, and let

the ship-builder be satisfied. I propose a bounty of five francs, to be

taken from the public revenues, to be paid to the ship-builder for each

quintal of iron that he uses.

"Several Voices. Seconded, seconded.

"A Farmer. I want a bounty of three francs for each bushel of wheat.

"A Weaver. And I two francs for each yard of cloth.

"The Presiding Officer. That is understood. Our meeting will have

originated the system of _drawbacks_, and it will be its eternal glory.

What branch of manufacturing can lose hereafter, when we have two so

simple means of turning losses into gains--the _tariff_ and _drawbacks_.

The meeting is adjourned."

Some supernatural vision must have shown me in a dream the coming

appearance of the _bounty_ (who knows if I did not suggest the thought

to M. Dupin?), when some months ago I wrote the following words:

"It seems evident to me that protection, without changing its nature or

effects, might take the form of a direct tax levied by the State, and

distributed in indemnifying bounties to privileged manufacturers."

And after having compared protective duties with the bounty:

"I frankly avow my preference for the latter system; it seems to me more

just, more economical, and more truthful. More just, because if society

wishes to give gratuities to some of its members, all should contribute;

more economical, because it would save much of the expense of

collection, and do away with many obstacles; and, finally, more

truthful, because the public could see the operation plainly, and would

know what was done."

Since the opportunity is so kindly offered us, let us study this

_robbery by bounties_. What is said of it will also apply to _robbery by

tariff_, and as it is a little better disguised, the direct will enable

us to understand the indirect, cheating. Thus the mind proceeds from the

simple to the complex.

But is there no simpler variety of robbery? Certainly, there is _highway

robbery_, and all it needs is to be legalized, or, as they say

now-a-days, _organized_.

I once read the following in somebody's travels:

"When we reached the Kingdom of A---- we found all industrial pursuits

suffering. Agriculture groaned, manufactures complained, commerce

murmured, the navy growled, and the government did not know whom to

listen to. At first it thought of taxing all the discontented, and of

dividing among them the proceeds of these taxes after having taken its

share; which would have been like the method of managing lotteries in

our dear Spain. There are a thousand of you; the State takes a dollar

from each one, cunningly steals two hundred and fifty, and then divides

up seven hundred and fifty, in greater or smaller sums, among the

players. The worthy Hidalgo, who has received three-quarters of a

dollar, forgetting that he has spent a whole one, is wild with joy, and

runs to spend his shillings at the tavern. Something like this once

happened in France. Barbarous as the country of A---- was, however, the

government did not trust the stupidity of the inhabitants enough to make

them accept such singular protection, and hence this was what it

devised:

"The country was intersected with roads. The government had them

measured, exactly, and then said to the farmers, 'All that you can steal

from travelers between these boundaries is yours; let it serve you as a

_bounty_, a protection, and an encouragement.' It afterwards assigned to

each manufacturer and each ship-builder, a bit of road to work up,

according to this formula:

Dono tibi et concedo,

Virtutem et puissantiam,

Robbandi,

Pillageandi,

Stealandi,

Cheatandi,

Et Swindlandi,

Impune per totam istam,

Viam.

"Now it has come to pass that the natives of the Kingdom of A---- are so

familiarized with this regime, and so accustomed to think only of what

they steal, and not of what is stolen from them, so habituated to look

at pillage but from the pillager's point of view, that they consider the

sum of all these private robberies as _national profit_, and refuse to

give up a system of protection without which, they say, no branch of

industry can live."

Do you say, it is not possible that an entire nation could see an

_increase of riches_ where the inhabitants plundered one another?

Why not? We have this belief in France, and every day we organize and

practice _reciprocal robbery_ under the name of bounties and protective

tariffs.

Let us exaggerate nothing, however; let us concede that as far as the

_mode of collection_, and the collateral circumstances, are concerned,

the system in the Kingdom of A---- may be worse than ours; but let us

say, also, that as far as principles and necessary results are

concerned, there is not an atom of difference between these two kinds

of robbery legally organized to eke out the profits of industry.

Observe, that if _highway robbery_ presents some difficulties of

execution, it has also certain advantages which are not found in the

_tariff robbery_.

For instance: An equitable division can be made between all the

plunderers. It is not thus with tariffs. They are by nature impotent to

protect certain classes of society, such as artizans, merchants,

literary men, lawyers, soldiers, etc., etc.

It is true that _bounty robbery_ allows of infinite subdivisions, and in

this respect does not yield in perfection to _highway robbery_, but on

the other hand it often leads to results which are so odd and foolish,

that the natives of the Kingdom of A---- may laugh at it with great

reason.

That which the plundered party loses in highway robbery is gained by the

robber. The article stolen remains, at least, in the country. But under

the dominion of _bounty robbery_, that which the duty takes from the

French is often given to the Chinese, the Hottentots, Caffirs, and

Algonquins, as follows:

A piece of cloth is worth a _hundred francs_ at Bordeaux. It is

impossible to sell it below that without loss. It is impossible to sell

it for more than that, for the _competition_ between merchants forbids.

Under these circumstances, if a Frenchman desires to buy the cloth, he

must pay a _hundred francs_, or do without it. But if an Englishman

comes, the government interferes, and says to the merchant: "Sell your

cloth, and I will make the tax-payers give you _twenty francs_ (through

the operation of the _drawback_)." The merchant, who wants, and can get,

but one hundred francs for his cloth, delivers it to the Englishman for

eighty francs. This sum added to the twenty francs, the product of the

_bounty robbery_, makes up his price. It is then precisely as if the

tax-payers had given twenty francs to the Englishman, on condition that

he would buy French cloth at twenty francs below the cost of

manufacture,--at twenty francs below what it costs us. Then bounty

robbery has this peculiarity, that the _robbed_ are inhabitants of the

country which allows it, and the _robbers_ are spread over the face of

the globe.

It is truly wonderful that they should persist in holding this

proposition to have been demonstrated: _All that the individual robs

from the mass is a general gain._ Perpetual motion, the philosopher's

stone, and the squaring of the circle, are sunk in oblivion; but the

theory of _progress by robbery_ is still held in honor. _A priori_,

however, one might have supposed that it would be the shortest lived of

all these follies.

Some say to us: You are, then, partisans of the _let alone_ policy?

economists of the superannuated school of the Smiths and the Says? You

do not desire the _organization of labor_? Why, gentlemen, organize

labor as much as you please, but we will watch to see that you do not

organize _robbery_.

Others say, _bounties_, _tariffs_, all these things may have been

overdone. We must use, without abusing them. A wise liberty, combined

with moderate protection, is what _serious_ and practical men claim. Let

us beware of _absolute principles_. This is exactly what they said in

the Kingdom of A----, according to the Spanish traveler. "Highway

robbery," said the wise men, "is neither good nor bad in itself; it

depends on circumstances. Perhaps too much freedom of pillage has been

given; perhaps not enough. Let us see; let us examine; let us balance

the accounts of each robber. To those who do not make enough, we will

give a little more road to work up. As for those who make too much, we

will reduce their share."

Those who spoke thus acquired great fame for moderation, prudence, and

wisdom. They never failed to attain the highest offices of the State.

As for those who said, "Let us repress injustice altogether; let us

allow neither _robbery_, nor _half robbery_, nor _quarter robbery_,"

they passed for theorists, dreamers, bores--always parroting the same

thing. The people also found their reasoning too easy to understand. How

can that be true which is so very simple?

X.

THE TAX COLLECTOR.

JACQUES BONHOMME, Vine-grower.

M. LASOUCHE, Tax Collector.

L. You have secured twenty hogsheads of wine?

J. Yes, with much care and sweat.

--Be so kind as to give me six of the best.

--Six hogsheads out of twenty! Good heavens! You want to ruin me. If you

please, what do you propose to do with them?

--The first will be given to the creditors of the State. When one has

debts, the least one can do is to pay the interest.

--Where did the principal go?

--It would take too long to tell. A part of it was once upon a time put

in cartridges, which made the finest smoke in the world; with another

part men were hired who were maimed on foreign ground, after having

ravaged it. Then, when these expenses brought the enemy upon us, he

would not leave without taking money with him, which we had to borrow.

--What good do I get from it now?

--The satisfaction of saying:

How proud am I of being a Frenchman

When I behold the triumphal column,

And the humiliation of leaving to my heirs an estate burdened with a

perpetual rent. Still one must pay what he owes, no matter how foolish a

use may have been made of the money. That accounts for one hogshead, but

the five others?

--One is required to pay for public services, the civil list, the judges

who decree the restitution of the bit of land your neighbor wants to

appropriate, the policemen who drive away robbers while you sleep, the

men who repair the road leading to the city, the priest who baptizes

your children, the teacher who educates them, and myself, your servant,

who does not work for nothing.

--Certainly, service for service. There is nothing to say against that.

I had rather make a bargain directly with my priest, but I do not insist

on this. So much for the second hogshead. This leaves four, however.

--Do you believe that two would be too much for your share of the army

and navy expenses?

--Alas, it is little compared with what they have cost me already. They

have taken from me two sons whom I tenderly loved.

--The balance of power in Europe must be maintained.

--Well, my God! the balance of power would be the same if these forces

were every where reduced a half or three-quarters. We should save our

children and our money. All that is needed is to understand it.

--Yes, but they do not understand it.

--That is what amazes me. For every one suffers from it.

--You wished it so, Jacques Bonhomme.

--You are jesting, my dear Mr. Collector; have I a vote in the

legislative halls?

--Whom did you support for Deputy?

--An excellent General, who will be a Marshal presently, if God spares

his life.

--On what does this excellent General live?

--My hogsheads, I presume.

--And what would happen were he to vote for a reduction of the army and

your military establishment?

--Instead of being made a Marshal, he would be retired.

--Do you now understand that yourself?

--Let us pass to the fifth hogshead, I beg of you.

--That goes to Algeria.

--To Algeria! And they tell me that all Mussulmans are temperance

people, the barbarians! What services will they give me in exchange for

this ambrosia, which has cost me so much labor?

--None at all; it is not intended for Mussulmans, but for good

Christians who spend their days in Barbary.

--What can they do there which will be of service to me?

--Undertake and undergo raids; kill and be killed; get dysenteries and

come home to be doctored; dig harbors, make roads, build villages and

people them with Maltese, Italians, Spaniards and Swiss, who live on

your hogshead, and many others which I shall come in the future to ask

of you.

--Mercy! This is too much, and I flatly refuse you my hogshead. They

would send a wine-grower who did such foolish acts to the mad-house.

Make roads in the Atlas Mountains, when I cannot get out of my own

house! Dig ports in Barbary when the Garonne fills up with sand every

day! Take from me my children whom I love, in order to torment Arabs!

Make me pay for the houses, grain and horses, given to the Greeks and

Maltese, when there are so many poor around us!

--The poor! Exactly; they free the country of this _superfluity_.

--Oh, yes, by sending after them to Algeria the money which would enable

them to live here.

--But then you lay the basis of a _great empire_, you carry

_civilization_ into Africa, and you crown your country with immortal

glory.

--You are a poet, my dear Collector; but I am a vine-grower, and I

refuse.

--Think that in a few thousand years you will get back your advances a

hundred-fold. All those who have charge of the enterprise say so.

--At first they asked me for one barrel of wine to meet expenses, then

two, then three, and now I am taxed a hogshead. I persist in my refusal.

--It is too late. Your _representative_ has agreed that you shall give a

hogshead.

--That is but too true. Cursed weakness! It seems to me that I was

unwise in making him my agent; for what is there in common between the

General of an army and the poor owner of a vineyard?

--You see well that there is something in common between you, were it

only the wine you make, and which, in your name, he votes to himself.

--Laugh at me; I deserve it, my dear Collector. But be reasonable, and

leave me the sixth hogshead at least. The interest of the debt is paid,

the civil list provided for, the public service assured, and the war in

Africa perpetuated. What more do you want?

--The bargain is not made with me. You must tell your desires to the

General. _He_ has disposed of your vintage.

--But what do you propose to do with this poor hogshead, the flower of

my flock? Come, taste this wine. How mellow, delicate, velvety it is!

--Excellent, delicious! It will suit D----, the cloth manufacturer,

admirably.

--D----, the manufacturer! What do you mean?

--That he will make a good bargain out of it.

--How? What is that? I do not understand you.

--Do you not know that D---- has started a magnificent establishment

very useful to the country, but which loses much money every year?

--I am very sorry. But what can I do to help him?

--The Legislature saw that if things went on thus, D---- would either

have to do a better business or close his manufactory.

--But what connection is there between D----'s bad speculations and my

hogshead?

--The Chamber thought that if it gave D---- a little wine from your

cellar, a few bushels of grain taken from your neighbors, and a few

pennies cut from the wages of the workingmen, his losses would change

into profits.

--This recipe is as infallible as it is ingenious. But it is shockingly

unjust. What! is D---- to cover his losses by taking my wine?

--Not exactly the wine, but the proceeds of it; That is what we call a

_bounty for encouragement_. But you look amazed! Do not you see what a

great service you render to the country?

--You mean to say to D----?

--To the country. D---- asserts that, thanks to this arrangement, his

business prospers, and thus it is, says he, that the country grows rich.

That is what he recently said in the Chamber of which he is a member.

--It is a damnable fraud! What! A fool goes into a silly enterprise, he

spends his money, and if he extorts from me wine or grain enough to make

good his losses, and even to make him a profit, he calls it a general

gain!

--Your _representative_ having come to that conclusion, all you have to

do is to give me the six hogsheads of wine, and sell the fourteen that I

leave you for as much as possible.

--That is my business.

--For, you see, it would be very annoying if you did not get a good

price for them.

--I will think of it.

--For there are many things which the money you receive must procure.

--I know it, sir. I know it.

--In the first place, if you buy iron to renew your spades and

plowshares, a law declares that you must pay the iron-master twice what

it was worth.

--Ah, yes; does not the same thing happen in the Black Forest?

--Then, if you need oil, meat, cloth, coal, wool and sugar, each one by

the law will cost you twice what it is worth.

--But this is horrible, frightful, abominable.

--What is the use of these hard words? You yourself, through your

_authorized_ agent----

--Leave me alone with my authorized agent. I made a very strange

disposition of my vote, it is true. But they shall deceive me no more,

and I will be represented by some good and honest countryman.

--Bah, you will re-elect the worthy General.

--I? I re-elect the General to give away my wine to Africans and

manufacturers?

--You will re-elect him, I say.

--That is a little _too much_. I will not re-elect him, if I do not want

to.

--But you will want to, and you will re-elect him.

--Let him come here and try. He will see who he will have to settle

with.

--We shall see. Good bye. I take away your six hogsheads, and will

proceed to divide them as the General has directed.

XI.

UTOPIAN IDEAS.

If I were His Majesty's Minister!

--Well, what would you do?

--I should begin by--by--upon my word, by being very much embarrassed.

For I should be Minister only because I had the majority, and I should

have that only because I had made it, and I could only have made it,

honestly at least, by governing according to its ideas. So if I

undertake to carry out my ideas and to run counter to its ideas, I shall

not have the majority, and if I do not, I cannot be His Majesty's

Minister.

--Just imagine that you are so, and that consequently the majority is

not opposed to you, what would you do?

--I would look to see on which side _justice_ is.

--And then?

--I would seek to find where _utility_ was.

--What next?

--I would see whether they agreed, or were in conflict with one another.

--And if you found they did not agree?

--I would say to the King, take back your portfolio.

--But suppose you see that _justice_ and _utility_ are one?

--Then I will go straight ahead.

--Very well, but to realize utility by justice, a third thing is

necessary.

--What is that?

--Possibility.

--You conceded that.

--When?

--Just now.

--How?

--By giving me the majority.

--It seems to me that the concession was rather hazardous, for it

implies that the majority clearly sees what is just, clearly sees what

is useful, and clearly sees that these things are in perfect accord.

--And if it sees this clearly, the good will, so to speak, do itself.

--This is the point to which you are constantly bringing me--to see a

possibility of reform only in the progress of the general intelligence.

--By this progress all reform is infallible.

--Certainly. But this preliminary progress takes time. Let us suppose it

accomplished. What will you do? for I am eager to see you at work,

doing, practicing.

--I should begin by reducing letter postage to ten centimes.

--I heard you speak of five, once.

--Yes; but as I have other reforms in view, I must move with prudence,

to avoid a deficit in the revenues.

--Prudence? This leaves you with a deficit of thirty millions.

--Then I will reduce the salt tax to ten francs.

--Good! Here is another deficit of thirty millions. Doubtless you have

invented some new tax.

--Heaven forbid! Besides, I do not flatter myself that I have an

inventive mind.

--It is necessary, however. Oh, I have it. What was I thinking of? You

are simply going to diminish the expense. I did not think of that.

--You are not the only one. I shall come to that; but I do not count on

it at present.

--What! you diminish the receipts, without lessening expenses, and you

avoid a deficit?

--Yes, by diminishing other taxes at the same time.

(Here the interlocutor, putting the index finger of his right hand on

his forehead, shook his head, which may be translated thus: He is

rambling terribly.)

--Well, upon my word, this is ingenious. I pay the Treasury a hundred

francs; you relieve me of five francs on salt, five on postage; and in

order that the Treasury may nevertheless receive one hundred francs, you

relieve me of ten on some other tax?

--Precisely; you understand me.

--How can it be true? I am not even sure that I have heard you.

--I repeat that I balance one remission of taxes by another.

--I have a little time to give, and I should like to hear you expound

this paradox.

--Here is the whole mystery: I know a tax which costs you twenty francs,

not a sou of which gets to the Treasury. I relieve you of half of it,

and make the other half take its proper destination.

--You are an unequaled financier. There is but one difficulty. What tax,

if you please, do I pay, which does not go to the Treasury?

--How much does this suit of clothes cost you?

--A hundred francs.

--How much would it have cost you if you had gotten the cloth from

Belgium?

--Eighty francs.

--Then why did you not get it there?

--Because it is prohibited.

--Why?

--So that the suit may cost me one hundred francs instead of eighty.

--This denial, then, costs you twenty francs?

--Undoubtedly.

--And where do these twenty francs go?

--Where do they go? To the manufacturer of the cloth.

--Well, give me ten francs for the Treasury, and I will remove the

restriction, and you will gain ten francs.

--Oh, I begin to see. The treasury account shows that it loses five

francs on postage and five on salt, and gains ten on cloth. That is

even.

--Your account is--you gain five francs on salt, five on postage, and

ten on cloth.

--Total, twenty francs. This is satisfactory enough. But what becomes of

the poor cloth manufacturer?

--Oh, I have thought of him. I have secured compensation for him by

means of the tax reductions which are so profitable to the Treasury.

What I have done for you as regards cloth, I do for him in regard to

wool, coal, machinery, etc., so that he can lower his price without

loss.

--But are you sure that will be an equivalent?

--The balance will be in his favor. The twenty francs that you gain on

the cloth will be multiplied by those which I will save for you on

grain, meat, fuel, etc. This will amount to a large sum, and each one of

your 35,000,000 fellow-citizens will save the same way. There will be

enough to consume the cloths of both Belgium and France. The nation will

be better clothed; that is all.

--I will think on this, for it is somewhat confused in my head.

--After all, as far as clothes go, the main thing is to be clothed. Your

limbs are your own, and not the manufacturer's. To shield them from cold

is your business and not his. If the law takes sides for him against

you, the law is unjust, and you allowed me to reason on the hypothesis

that what is unjust is hurtful.

--Perhaps I admitted too much; but go on and explain your financial

plan.

--Then I will make a tariff.

--In two folio volumes?

--No, in two sections.

--Then they will no longer say that this famous axiom "No one is

supposed to be ignorant of the law" is a fiction. Let us see your

tariff.

--Here it is: Section First. All imports shall pay an _ad valorem_ tax

of five per cent.

--Even _raw materials_?

--Unless they are _worthless_.

--But they all have value, much or little.

--Then they will pay much or little.

--How can our manufactories compete with foreign ones which have these

_raw materials_ free?

--The expenses of the State being certain, if we close this source of

revenue, we must open another; this will not diminish the relative

inferiority of our manufactories, and there will be one bureau more to

organize and pay.

--That is true; I reasoned as if the tax was to be annulled, not

changed. I will reflect on this. What is your second section?

--Section Second. All exports shall pay an _ad valorem_ tax of five per

cent.

--Merciful Heavens, Mr. Utopist! You will certainly be stoned, and, if

it comes to that, I will throw the first one.

--We agreed that the majority were enlightened.

--Enlightened! Can you claim that an export duty is not onerous?

--All taxes are onerous, but this is less so than others.

--The carnival justifies many eccentricities. Be so kind as to make this

new paradox appear specious, if you can.

--How much did you pay for this wine?

--A franc per quart.

--How much would you have paid outside the city gates?

--Fifty centimes.

--Why this difference?

--Ask the _octroi_[14] which added ten sous to it.

--Who established the _octroi_?

--The municipality of Paris, in order to pave and light the streets.

--This is, then, an import duty. But if the neighboring country

districts had established this _octroi_ for their profit, what would

happen?

--I should none the less pay a franc for wine worth only fifty centimes,

and the other fifty centimes would pave and light Montmartre and the

Batignolles.

--So that really it is the consumer who pays the tax?

--There is no doubt of that.

--Then by taxing exports you make foreigners help pay your

expenses.[15]

--I find you at fault, this is not _justice_.

--Why not? In order to secure the production of any one thing, there

must be instruction, security, roads, and other costly things in the

country. Why shall not the foreigner who is to consume this product,

bear the charges its production necessitates?

--This is contrary to received ideas.

--Not the least in the world. The last purchaser must repay all the

direct and indirect expenses of production.

--No matter what you say, it is plain that such a measure would paralyze

commerce; and cut off all exports.

--That is an illusion. If you were to pay this tax besides all the

others, you would be right. But, if the hundred millions raised in this

way, relieve you of other taxes to the same amount, you go into foreign

markets with all your advantages, and even with more, if this duty has

occasioned less embarrassment and expense.

--I will reflect on this. So now the salt, postage and customs are

regulated. Is all ended there?

--I am just beginning.

--Pray, initiate me in your Utopian ideas.

--I have lost sixty millions on salt and postage. I shall regain them

through the customs; which also gives me something more precious.

--What, pray?

--International relations founded on justice, and a probability of peace

which is equivalent to a certainty. I will disband the army.

--The whole army?

--Except special branches, which will be voluntarily recruited, like all

other professions. You see, conscription is abolished.

--Sir, you should say recruiting.

--Ah, I forgot, I cannot help admiring the ease with which, in certain

countries, the most unpopular things are perpetuated by giving them

other names.

--Like _consolidated duties_, which have become _indirect

contributions_.

--And the _gendarmes_, who have taken the name of _municipal guards_.

--In short, trusting to Utopia, you disarm the country.

--I said that I would muster out the army, not that I would disarm the

country. I intend, on the contrary, to give it invincible power.

--How do you harmonize this mass of contradictions?

--I call all the citizens to service.

--Is it worth while to relieve a portion from service in order to call

out everybody?

--You did not make me Minister in order that I should leave things as

they are. Thus, on my advent to power, I shall say with Richelieu, "the

State maxims are changed." My first maxim, the one which will serve as a

basis for my administration, is this: Every citizen must know two

things--How to earn his own living, and defend his country.

--It seems to me, at the first glance, that there is a spark of good

sense in this.

--Consequently, I base the national defense on a law consisting of two

sections.

Section First. Every able-bodied citizen, without exception, shall be

under arms for four years, from his twenty-first to his twenty-fifth

year, in order to receive military instruction.--

--This is pretty economy! You send home four hundred thousand soldiers

and call out ten millions.

--Listen to my second section:

SEC. 2. _Unless_ he proves, at the age of twenty-one, that he knows the

school of the soldier perfectly.

--I did not expect this turn. It is certain that to avoid four years'

service, there will be a great emulation among our youth, to learn _by

the right flank_ and _double quick, march_. The idea is odd.

--It is better than that. For without grieving families and offending

equality, does it not assure the country, in a simple and inexpensive

manner, of ten million defenders, capable of defying a coalition of all

the standing armies of the globe?

--Truly, if I were not on my guard, I should end in getting interested

in your fancies.

_The Utopist, getting excited:_ Thank Heaven, my estimates are relieved

of a hundred millions! I suppress the _octroi_. I refund indirect

contributions. I--

_Getting more and more excited:_ I will proclaim religious freedom and

free instruction. There shall be new resources. I will buy the

railroads, pay off the public debt, and starve out the stock gamblers.

--My dear Utopist!

--Freed from too numerous cares, I will concentrate all the resources of

the government on the repression of fraud, the administration of prompt

and even-handed justice. I--

--My dear Utopist, you attempt too much. The nation will not follow you.

--You gave me the majority.

--I take it back.

--Very well; then I am no longer Minister; but my plans remain what they

are--Utopian ideas.

[Footnote 14: The entrance duty levied at the gates of French towns.]

[Footnote 15: I understand M. Bastiat to mean merely that export duties

are not necessarily more onerous than import duties. The statement that

all taxes are paid by the consumer, is liable to important

modifications. An export duty may be laid in such way, and on such

articles, that it will be paid wholly by the foreign consumer, without

loss to the producing country, but it is only when the additional cost

does not lessen the demand, or induce the foreigner to produce the same

article. _Translator._]

XII.

SALT, POSTAGE, AND CUSTOMS.

[This chapter is an amusing dialogue relating principally to English

Postal Reform. Being inapplicable to any condition of things existing in

the United States, it is omitted.--_Translator._]

XIII.

THE THREE ALDERMEN.

A DEMONSTRATION IN FOUR TABLEAUX.

_First Tableau._

[The scene is in the hotel of Alderman Pierre. The window looks out on a

fine park; three persons are seated near a good fire.]

_Pierre._ Upon my word, a fire is very comfortable when the stomach is

satisfied. It must be agreed that it is a pleasant thing. But, alas! how

many worthy people like the King of Yvetot,

"Blow on their fingers for want of wood."

Unhappy creatures, Heaven inspires me with a charitable thought. You see

these fine trees. I will cut them down and distribute the wood among

the poor.

_Paul and Jean._ What! gratis?

_Pierre._ Not exactly. There would soon be an end of my good works if I

scattered my property thus. I think that my park is worth twenty

thousand livres; by cutting it down I shall get much more for it.

_Paul._ A mistake. Your wood as it stands is worth more than that in the

neighboring forests, for it renders services which that cannot give.

When cut down it will, like that, be good for burning only, and will not

be worth a sou more per cord.

_Pierre._ Oh! Mr. Theorist, you forget that I am a practical man. I

supposed that my reputation as a speculator was well enough established

to put me above any charge of stupidity. Do you think that I shall amuse

myself by selling my wood at the price of other wood?

_Paul._ You must.

_Pierre._ Simpleton!--Suppose I prevent the bringing of any wood to

Paris?

_Paul._ That will alter the case. But how will you manage it?

_Pierre._ This is the whole secret. You know that wood pays an entrance

duty of ten sous per cord. To-morrow I will induce the Aldermen to raise

this duty to one hundred, two hundred, or three hundred livres, so high

as to keep out every fagot. Well, do you see? If the good people do not

want to die of cold, they must come to my wood-yard. They will fight for

my wood; I shall sell it for its weight in gold, and this well-regulated

deed of charity will enable me to do others of the same sort.

_Paul._ This is a fine idea, and it suggests an equally good one to me.

_Jean._ Well, what is it?

_Paul._ How do you find this Normandy butter?

_Jean._ Excellent.

_Paul_. Well, it seemed passable a moment ago. But do you not think it

is a little strong? I want to make a better article at Paris. I will

have four or five hundred cows, and I will distribute milk, butter and

cheese to the poor people.

_Pierre and Jean._ What! as a charity?

_Paul._ Bah, let us always put charity in the foreground. It is such a

fine thing that its counterfeit even is an excellent card. I will give

my butter to the people and they will give me their money. Is that

called selling?

_Jean._ No, according to the _Bourgeois Gentilhomme_; but call it what

you please, you ruin yourself. Can Paris compete with Normandy in

raising cows?

_Paul._ I shall save the cost of transportation.

_Jean._ Very well; but the Normans are able to _beat_ the Parisians,

even if they do have to pay for transportation.

_Paul._ Do you call it _beating_ any one to furnish him things at a low

price?

_Jean._ It is the time-honored word. You will always be beaten.

_Paul._ Yes; like Don Quixote. The blows will fall on Sancho. Jean, my

friend, you forgot the _octroi_.

_Jean._ The _octroi_! What has that to do with your butter?

_Paul._ To-morrow I will demand _protection_, and I will induce the

Council to prohibit the butter of Normandy and Brittany. The people must

do without butter, or buy mine, and that at my price, too.

_Jean._ Gentlemen, your philanthropy carries me along with it. "In time

one learns to howl with the wolves." It shall not be said that I am an

unworthy Alderman. Pierre, this sparkling fire has illumined your soul;

Paul, this butter has given an impulse to your understanding, and I

perceive that this piece of salt pork stimulates my intelligence.

To-morrow I will vote myself, and make others vote, for the exclusion of

hogs, dead or alive; this done, I will build superb stock-yards in the

middle of Paris "for the unclean animal forbidden to the Hebrews." I

will become swineherd and pork-seller, and we shall see how the good

people of Lutetia can help getting their food at my shop.

_Pierre._ Gently, my friends; if you thus run up the price of butter and

salt meat, you diminish the profit which I expected from my wood.

_Paul._ Nor is my speculation so wonderful, if you ruin me with your

fuel and your hams.

_Jean._ What shall I gain by making you pay an extra price for my

sausages, if you overcharge me for pastry and fagots?

_Pierre._ Do you not see that we are getting into a quarrel? Let us

rather unite. Let us make _reciprocal concessions_. Besides, it is not

well to listen only to miserable self-interest. _Humanity_ is concerned,

and must not the warming of the people be secured?

_Paul._ That it is true, and people must have butter to spread on their

bread.

_Jean._ Certainly. And they must have a bit of pork for their soup.

_All Together._ Forward, charity! Long live philanthropy! To-morrow,

to-morrow, we will take the octroi by assault.

_Pierre._ Ah, I forgot. One word more which is important. My friends, in

this selfish age people are suspicious, and the purest intentions are

often misconstrued. Paul, you plead for _wood_; Jean, defend _butter_;

and I will devote myself to domestic _swine_. It is best to head off

invidious suspicions. _Paul and Jean_ (leaving). Upon my word, what a

clever fellow!

SECOND TABLEAU.

_The Common Council._

_Paul._ My dear colleagues, every day great quantities of wood come into

Paris, and draw out of it large sums of money. If this goes on, we shall

all be ruined in three years, and what will become of the poor people?

[Bravo.] Let us prohibit foreign wood. I am not speaking for myself, for

you could not make a tooth-pick out of all the wood I own. I am,

therefore, perfectly disinterested. [Good, good.] But here is Pierre,

who has a park, and he will keep our fellow-citizens from freezing. They

will no longer be in a state of _dependence_ on the charcoal dealers of

the Yonne. Have you ever thought of the risk we run of dying of cold, if

the proprietors of these foreign forests should take it into their heads

not to bring any more wood to Paris? Let us, therefore, prohibit wood.

By this means we shall stop the drain of specie, we shall start the

wood-chopping business, and open to our workmen a new source of labor

and wages. [Applause.]

_Jean._ I second the motion of the Honorable member--a proposition so

philanthropic and so disinterested, as he remarked. It is time that we

should stop this intolerable _freedom of entry_, which has brought a

ruinous competition upon our market, so that there is not a province

tolerably well situated for producing some one article which does not

inundate us with it, sell it to us at a low price, and depress Parisian

labor. It is the business of the State to _equalize the conditions of

production_ by wisely graduated duties; to allow the entrance from

without of whatever is dearer there than at Paris, and thus relieve us

from an unequal _contest_. How, for instance, can they expect us to make

milk and butter in Paris as against Brittany and Normandy? Think,

gentlemen; the Bretons have land cheaper, feed more convenient, and

labor more abundant. Does not common sense say that the conditions must

be equalized by a protecting duty? I ask that the duty on milk and

butter be raised to a thousand per cent., and more, if necessary. The

breakfasts of the people will cost a little more, but wages will rise!

We shall see the building of stables and dairies, a good trade in

churns, and the foundation of new industries laid. I, myself, have not

the least interest in this plan. I am not a cowherd, nor do I desire to

become one. I am moved by the single desire to be useful to the laboring

classes. [Expressions of approbation.]

_Pierre._ I am happy to see in this assembly statesmen so pure,

enlightened, and devoted to the interests of the people. [Cheers.] I

admire their self-denial, and cannot do better than follow such noble

examples. I support their motion, and I also make one to exclude Poitou

hogs. It is not that I want to become a swineherd or pork dealer, in

which case my conscience would forbid my making this motion; but is it

not shameful, gentlemen, that we should be paying tribute to these poor

Poitevin peasants who have the audacity to come into our own market,

take possession of a business that we could have carried on ourselves,

and, after having inundated us with sausages and hams, take from us,

perhaps, nothing in return? Anyhow, who says that the balance of trade

is not in their favor, and that we are not compelled to pay them a

tribute in money? Is it not plain that if this Poitevin industry were

planted in Paris, it would open new fields to Parisian labor? Moreover,

gentlemen, is it not very likely, as Mr. Lestiboudois said, that we buy

these Poitevin salted meats, not with our income, but our capital? Where

will this land us? Let us not allow greedy, avaricious and perfidious

rivals to come here and sell things cheaply, thus making it impossible

for us to produce them ourselves. Aldermen, Paris has given us its

confidence, and we must show ourselves worthy of it. The people are

without labor, and we must create it, and if salted meat costs them a

little more, we shall, at least, have the consciousness that we have

sacrificed our interests to those of the masses, as every good Alderman

ought to do. [Thunders of applause.]

_A Voice._ I hear much said of the poor people; but, under the pretext

of giving them labor, you begin by taking away from them that which is

worth more than labor itself--wood, butter, and soup.

_Pierre, Paul and Jean._ Vote, vote. Away with your theorists and

generalizers! Let us vote. [The three motions are carried.]

THIRD TABLEAU.

_Twenty Years After._

_Son._ Father, decide; we must leave Paris. Work is slack, and

everything is dear.

_Father._ My son, you do not know how hard it is to leave the place

where we were born.

_Son._ The worst of all things is to die there of misery.

_Father._ Go, my son, and seek a more hospitable country. For myself, I

will not leave the grave where your mother, sisters and brothers lie. I

am eager to find, at last, near them, the rest which is denied me in

this city of desolation.

_Son._ Courage, dear father, we will find work elsewhere--in Poitou,

Normandy or Brittany. They say that the industry of Paris is gradually

transferring itself to those distant countries.

_Father._ It is very natural. Unable to sell us wood and food, they

stopped producing more than they needed for themselves, and they

devoted their spare time and capital to making those things which we

formerly furnished them.

_Son._ Just as at Paris, they quit making handsome furniture and fine

clothes, in order to plant trees, and raise hogs and cows. Though quite

young, I have seen vast storehouses, sumptuous buildings, and quays

thronged with life on those banks of the Seine which are now given up to

meadows and forests.

_Father._ While the provinces are filling up with cities, Paris becomes

country. What a frightful revolution! Three mistaken Aldermen, aided by

public ignorance, have brought down on us this terrible calamity.

_Son._ Tell me this story, my father.

_Father._ It is very simple. Under the pretext of establishing three new

trades at Paris, and of thus supplying labor to the workmen, these men

secured the prohibition of wood, butter, and meats. They assumed the

right of supplying their fellow-citizens with them. These articles rose

immediately to an exorbitant price. Nobody made enough to buy them, and

the few who could procure them by using up all they made were unable to

buy anything else; consequently all branches of industry stopped at

once--all the more so because the provinces no longer offered a market.

Misery, death, and emigration began to depopulate Paris.

_Son._ When will this stop?

_Father._ When Paris has become a meadow and a forest.

_Son._ The three Aldermen must have made a great fortune.

_Father._ At first they made immense profits, but at length they were

involved in the common misery.

_Son._ How was that possible?

_Father._ You see this ruin; it was a magnificent house, surrounded by a

fine park. If Paris had kept on advancing, Master Pierre would have got

more rent from it annually than the whole thing is now worth to him.

_Son._ How can that be, since he got rid of competition?

_Father._ Competition in selling has disappeared; but competition in

buying also disappears every day, and will keep on disappearing until

Paris is an open field, and Master Pierre's woodland will be worth no

more than an equal number of acres in the forest of Bondy. Thus, a

monopoly, like every species of injustice, brings its own punishment

upon itself.

_Son._ This does not seem very plain to me, but the decay of Paris is

undeniable. Is there, then, no means of repealing this unjust measure

that Pierre and his colleagues adopted twenty years ago?

_Father._ I will confide my secret to you. I will remain at Paris for

this purpose; I will call the people to my aid. It depends on them

whether they will replace the _octroi_ on its old basis, and dismiss

from it this fatal principle, which is grafted on it, and has grown

there like a parasite fungus.

_Son._ You ought to succeed on the very first day.

_Father._ No; on the contrary, the work is a difficult and laborious

one. Pierre, Paul and Jean understand one another perfectly. They are

ready to do anything rather than allow the entrance of wood, butter and

meat into Paris. They even have on their side the people, who clearly

see the labor which these three protected branches of business give, who

know how many wood-choppers and cow-drivers it gives employment to, but

who cannot obtain so clear an idea of the labor that would spring up in

the free air of liberty.

_Son._ If this is all that is needed, you will enlighten them.

_Father._ My child, at your age, one doubts at nothing. If I wrote, the

people would not read; for all their time is occupied in supporting a

wretched existence. If I speak, the Aldermen will shut my mouth. The

people will, therefore, remain long in their fatal error; political

parties, which build their hopes on their passions, attempt to play upon

their prejudices, rather than to dispel them. I shall then have to deal

with the powers that be--the people and the parties. I see that a storm

will burst on the head of the audacious person who dares to rise against

an iniquity which is so firmly rooted in the country.

_Son._ You will have justice and truth on your side.

_Father._ And they will have force and calumny. If I were only young!

But age and suffering have exhausted my strength.

_Son._ Well, father, devote all that you have left to the service of the

country. Begin this work of emancipation, and leave to me for an

inheritance the task of finishing it.

FOURTH TABLEAU.

_The Agitation._

_Jacques Bonhomme._ Parisians, let us demand the reform of the _octroi_;

let it be put back to what it was. Let every citizen be FREE to buy

wood, butter and meat where it seems good to him.

_The People._ Hurrah for LIBERTY!

_Pierre._ Parisians, do not allow yourselves to be seduced by these

words. Of what avail is the freedom of purchasing, if you have not the

means? and how can you have the means, if labor is wanting? Can Paris

produce wood as cheaply as the forest of Bondy, or meat at as low price

as Poitou, or butter as easily as Normandy? If you open the doors to

these rival products, what will become of the wood cutters, pork

dealers, and cattle drivers? They cannot do without protection.

_The People._. Hurrah for PROTECTION!

_Jacques._ Protection! But do they protect you, workmen? Do not you

compete with one another? Let the wood dealers then suffer competition

in their turn. They have no right to raise the price of their wood by

law, unless they, also, by law, raise wages. Do you not still love

equality?

_The People._ Hurrah for EQUALITY!

_Pierre._ Do not listen to this factious fellow. We have raised the

price of wood, meat, and butter, it is true; but it is in order that we

may give good wages to the workmen. We are moved by charity.

_The People._ Hurrah for CHARITY!

_Jacques._ Use the _octroi_, if you can, to raise wages, or do not use

it to raise the price of commodities. The Parisians do not ask for

charity, but justice.

_The People._ Hurrah for JUSTICE!

_Pierre._ It is precisely the dearness of products which will, by reflex

action, raise wages.

_The People._ Hurrah for DEARNESS!

_Jacques._ If butter is dear, it is not because you pay workmen well; it

is not even that you may make great profits; it is only because Paris is

ill situated for this business, and because you desired that they

should do in the city what ought to be done in the country, and in the

country what was done in the city. The people have no _more_ labor, only

they labor at something else. They get no _more_ wages, but they do not

buy things as cheaply.

_The People._ Hurrah for CHEAPNESS!

_Pierre._ This person seduces you with his fine words. Let us state the

question plainly. Is it not true that if we admit butter, wood, and

meat, we shall be inundated with them, and die of a plethora? There is,

then, no other way in which we can preserve ourselves from this new

inundation, than to shut the door, and we can keep up the price of

things only by causing scarcity artificially.

_A Very Few Voices._ Hurrah for SCARCITY!

_Jacques._ Let us state the question as it is. Among all the Parisians

we can divide only what is in Paris; the less wood, butter and meat

there is, the smaller each one's share will be. There will be less if we

exclude than if we admit. Parisians, individual abundance can exist only

where there is general abundance.

_The People._ Hurrah for ABUNDANCE!

_Pierre._ No matter what this man says, he cannot prove to you that it

is to your interest to submit to unbridled competition.

_The People._ Down with COMPETITION!

_Jacques._ Despite all this man's declamation, he cannot make you

_enjoy_ the sweets of restriction.

_The People._ Down with RESTRICTION!

_Pierre._ I declare to you that if the poor dealers in cattle and hogs

are deprived of their livelihood, if they are sacrificed to theories, I

will not be answerable for public order. Workmen, distrust this man. He

is an agent of perfidious Normandy; he is under the pay of foreigners.

He is a traitor, and must be hanged. [The people keep silent.]

_Jacques._ Parisians, all that I say now, I said to you twenty years

ago, when it occurred to Pierre to use the _octroi_ for his gain and

your loss. I am not an agent of Normandy. Hang me if you will, but this

will not prevent oppression from being oppression. Friends, you must

kill neither Jacques nor Pierre, but liberty if it frightens you, or

restriction if it hurts you.

_The People._ Let us hang nobody, but let us emancipate everybody.

XIV.

SOMETHING ELSE.

--What is restriction?

--A partial prohibition.

--What is prohibition?

--An absolute restriction.

--So that what is said of one is true of the other?

--Yes, comparatively. They bear the same relation to each other that the

arc of the circle does to the circle.

--Then if prohibition is bad, restriction cannot be good.

--No more than the arc can be straight if the circle is curved.

--What is the common name for restriction and prohibition?

--Protection.

--What is the definite effect of protection?

--To require from men _harder labor for the same result_.

--Why are men so attached to the protective system?

--Because, since liberty would accomplish the same result _with less

labor_, this apparent diminution of labor frightens them.

--Why do you say _apparent_?

--Because all labor economized can be devoted to _something else_.

--What?

--That cannot and need not be determined.

--Why?

--Because, if the total of the comforts of France could be gained with a

diminution of one-tenth on the total of its labor, no one could

determine what comforts it would procure with the labor remaining at its

disposal. One person would prefer to be better clothed, another better

fed, another better taught, and another more amused.

--Explain the workings and effect of protection.

--It is not an easy matter. Before taking hold of a complicated

instance, it must be studied in the simplest one.

--Take the simplest you choose.

--Do you recollect how Robinson Crusoe, having no saw, set to work to

make a plank?

--Yes. He cut down a tree, and then with his ax hewed the trunk on both

sides until he got it down to the thickness of a board.

--And that gave him an abundance of work?

--Fifteen full days.

--What did he live on during this time?

--His provisions.

--What happened to the ax?

--It was all blunted.

--Very good; but there is one thing which, perhaps, you do not know. At

the moment that Robinson gave the first blow with his ax, he saw a plank

which the waves had cast up on the shore.

--Oh, the lucky accident! He ran to pick it up?

--It was his first impulse; but he checked himself, reasoning thus:

"If I go after this plank, it will cost me but the labor of carrying it

and the time spent in going to and returning from the shore.

"But if I make a plank with my ax, I shall in the first place obtain

work for fifteen days, then I shall wear out my ax, which will give me

an opportunity of repairing it, and I shall consume my provisions, which

will be a third source of labor, since they must be replaced. Now,

_labor is wealth_. It is plain that I will ruin myself if I pick up this

stranded board. It is important to protect my _personal labor_, and now

that I think of it, I can create myself additional labor by kicking this

board back into the sea."

--But this reasoning was absurd!

--Certainly. Nevertheless it is that adopted by every nation which

_protects_ itself by prohibition. It rejects the plank which is offered

it in exchange for a little labor, in order to give itself more labor.

It sees a gain even in the labor of the custom house officer. This

answers to the trouble which Robinson took to give back to the waves

the present they wished to make him. Consider the nation a collective

being, and you will not find an atom of difference between its reasoning

and that of Robinson.

--Did not Robinson see that he could use the time saved in doing

_something else_?

--What '_something else_'?

--So long as one has wants and time, one has always _something_ to do. I

am not bound to specify the labor that he could undertake.

--I can specify very easily that which he would have avoided.

--I assert, that Robinson, with incredible blindness, confounded labor

with its result, the end with the means, and I will prove it to you.

--It is not necessary. But this is the restrictive or prohibitory system

in its simplest form. If it appears absurd to you, thus stated, it is

because the two qualities of producer and consumer are here united in

the same person.

--Let us pass, then, to a more complicated instance.

--Willingly. Some time after all this, Robinson having met Friday, they

united, and began to work in common. They hunted for six hours each

morning and brought home four hampers of game. They worked in the garden

for six hours each afternoon, and obtained four baskets of vegetables.

One day a canoe touched at the Island of Despair. A good-looking

stranger landed, and was allowed to dine with our two hermits. He

tasted, and praised the products of the garden, and before taking leave

of his hosts, said to them:

"Generous Islanders, I dwell in a country much richer in game than this,

but where horticulture is unknown. It would be easy for me to bring you

every evening four hampers of game if you would give me only two baskets

of vegetables."

At these words Robinson and Friday stepped on one side, to have a

consultation, and the debate which followed is too interesting not to be

given _in extenso_:

_Friday._ Friend, what do you think of it?

_Robinson._ If we accept we are ruined.

_Friday._ Is that certain? Calculate!

_Robinson._ It is all calculated. Hunting, crushed out by competition,

will be a lost branch of industry for us.

_Friday._ What difference does that make, if we have the game?

_Robinson._ Theory! It will not be the product of our labor.

_Friday._ Yes, it will, since we will have to give vegetables to get it.

_Robinson._ Then what shall we make?

_Friday._ The four hampers of game cost us six hours' labor. The

stranger gives them to us for two baskets of vegetables, which take us

but three hours. Thus three hours remain at our disposal.

_Robinson._ Say rather that they are taken from our activity. There is

our loss. _Labor is wealth_, and if we lose a fourth of our time we are

one-fourth poorer.

_Friday._ Friend, you make an enormous mistake. The same amount of game

and vegetables and three free hours to boot make progress, or there is

none in the world.

_Robinson._ Mere generalities. What will we do with these three hours?

_Friday._ We will do _something else_.

_Robinson._ Ah, now I have you. You can specify nothing. It is very easy

to say _something else--something else_.

_Friday._ We will fish. We will adorn our houses. We will read the

Bible.

_Robinson._ Utopia! Is it certain that we will do this rather than that?

_Friday._ Well, if we have no wants, we will rest. Is rest nothing?

_Robinson._ When one rests one dies of hunger.

_Friday._ Friend, you are in a vicious circle. I speak of a rest which

diminishes neither our gains nor our vegetables. You always forget that

by means of our commerce with this stranger, nine hours of labor will

give us as much food as twelve now do.

_Robinson._ It is easy to see that you were not reared in Europe.

Perhaps you have never read the _Moniteur Industriel_? It would have

taught you this: "All time saved is a dear loss. Eating is not the

important matter, but working. Nothing which we consume counts, if it is

not the product of our labor. Do you wish to know whether you are rich?

Do not look at your comforts, but at your trouble." This is what the

_Moniteur Industriel_ would have taught you. I, who am not a theorist,

see but the loss of our hunting.

_Friday._ What a strange perversion of ideas. But--

_Robinson._ No _buts_. Besides, there are political reasons for

rejecting the interested offers of this perfidious stranger.

_Friday._ Political reasons!

_Robinson._ Yes. In the first place he makes these offers only because

they are for his advantage.

_Friday._ So much the better, since they are for ours also.

_Robinson._ Then by these exchanges we shall become dependent on him.

_Friday._ And he on us. We need his game, he our vegetables, and we will

live in good friendship.

_Robinson._ Fancy! Do you want I should leave you without an answer?

_Friday._ Let us see; I am still waiting a good reason.

_Robinson._ Supposing that the stranger learns to cultivate a garden,

and that his island is more fertile than ours. Do you see the

consequences?

_Friday._ Yes. Our relations with the stranger will stop. He will take

no more vegetables from us, since he can get them at home with less

trouble. He will bring us no more game, since we will have nothing to

give in exchange, and we will be then just where you want us to be now.

_Robinson._ Short-sighted savage! You do not see that after having

destroyed our hunting, by inundating us with game, he will kill our

gardening by overwhelming us with vegetables.

_Friday._ But he will do that only so long as we give him _something

else_; that is to say, so long as we find _something else_ to produce,

which will economize our labor.

_Robinson._ _Something else--something else!_ You always come back to

that. You are very vague, friend Friday; there is nothing practical in

your views.

The contest lasted a long time, and, as often happens, left each one

convinced that he was right. However, Robinson having great influence

over Friday, his views prevailed, and when the stranger came for an

answer, Robinson said to him:

"Stranger, in order that your proposition may be accepted, we must be

quite sure of two things:

"The first is, that your island is not richer in game than ours, for we

will struggle but with _equal arms_.

"The second is, that you will lose by the bargain. For, as in every

exchange there is necessarily a gainer and a loser, we would be cheated,

if you were not. What have you to say?".

"Nothing, nothing," replied the stranger, who burst out laughing, and

returned to his canoe.

--The story would not be bad if Robinson was not so foolish.

--He is no more so than the committee in Hauteville street.

--Oh, there is a great difference. You suppose one solitary man, or,

what comes to the same thing, two men living together. This is not our

world; the diversity of occupations, and the intervention of merchants

and money, change the question materially.

--All this complicates transactions, but does not change their nature.

--What! Do you propose to compare modern commerce to mere exchanges?

--Commerce is but a multitude of exchanges; the real nature of the

exchange is identical with the real nature of commerce, as small labor

is of the same nature with great, and as the gravitation which impels an

atom is of the same nature as that which attracts a world.

--Thus, according to you, these arguments, which in Robinson's mouth are

so false, are no less so in the mouths of our protectionists?

--Yes; only error is hidden better under the complication of

circumstances.

--Well, now, select some instance from what has actually occurred.

--Very well; in France, in view of custom and the exigencies of the

climate, cloth is an useful article. Is it the essential thing _to make

it, or to have it_?

--A pretty question! To have it, we must make it.

--That is not necessary. It is certain that to have it some one must

make it; but it is not necessary that the person or country using it

should make it. You did not produce that which clothes you so well, nor

France the coffee it uses for breakfast.

--But I purchased my cloth, and France its coffee.

--Exactly, and with what?

--With specie.

--But you did not make the specie, nor did France.

--We bought it.

--With what?

--With our products which went to Peru.

--Then it is in reality your labor that you exchange for cloth, and

French labor that is exchanged for coffee?

--Certainly.

--Then it is not absolutely necessary to make what one consumes?

--No, if one makes _something else_, and gives it in exchange.

--In other words, France has two ways of procuring a given quantity of

cloth. The first is to make it, and the second is to make _something

else_, and exchange _that something else_ abroad for cloth. Of these two

ways, which is the best?

--I do not know.

--Is it not that which, _for a fixed amount of labor, gives the greatest

quantity of cloth_?

--It seems so.

--Which is best for a nation, to have the choice of these two ways, or

to have the law forbid its using one of them at the risk of rejecting

the best?

--It seems to me that it would be best for the nation to have the

choice, since in these matters it always makes a good selection.

--The law which prohibits the introduction of foreign cloth, decides,

then, that if France wants cloth, it must make it at home, and that it

is forbidden to make that _something else_ with which it could purchase

foreign cloth?

--That is true.

--And as it is obliged to make cloth, and forbidden to make _something

else_, just because the other thing would require less labor (without

which France would have no occasion to do anything with it), the law

virtually decrees, that for a certain amount of labor, France shall

have but one yard of cloth, making it itself, when, for the same amount

of labor, it could have had two yards, by making _something else_.

--But what other thing?

--No matter what. Being free to choose, it will make _something else_

only so long as there is _something else_ to make.

--That is possible; but I cannot rid myself of the idea that the

foreigners may send us cloth and not take something else, in which case

we shall be prettily caught. Under all circumstances, this is the

objection, even from your own point of view. You admit that France will

make this _something else_, which is to be exchanged for cloth, with

less labor than if it had made the cloth itself?

--Doubtless.

--Then a certain quantity of its labor will become inert?

--Yes; but people will be no worse clothed--a little circumstance which

causes the whole misunderstanding. Robinson lost sight of it, and our

protectionists do not see it, or pretend not to. The stranded plank thus

paralyzed for fifteen days Robinson's labor, so far as it was applied to

the making of a plank, but it did not deprive him of it. Distinguish,

then, between these two kinds of diminution of labor, one resulting in

_privation_, and the other in _comfort_. These two things are very

different, and if you assimilate them, you reason like Robinson. In the

most complicated, as in the most simple instances, the sophism consists

in this: _Judging of the utility of labor by its duration and intensity,

and not by its results_, which leads to this economic policy, _a

reduction of the results of labor, in order to increase its duration and

intensity_.

XV.

THE LITTLE ARSENAL OF THE FREE TRADER.

--If they say to you: There are no absolute principles; prohibition may

be bad, and restriction good--

Reply: Restriction _prohibits_ all that it keeps from coming in.

--If they say to you: Agriculture is the nursing mother of the country--

Reply: That which feeds a country is not exactly agriculture, but

_grain_.

--If they say to you: The basis of the sustenance of the people is

agriculture--

Reply: The basis of the sustenance of the people is _grain_. Thus a law

which causes _two_ bushels of grain to be obtained by agricultural labor

at the expense of four bushels, which the same labor would have

produced but for it, far from being a law of sustenance, is a law of

starvation.

--If they say to you: A restriction on the admission of foreign grain

leads to more cultivation, and, consequently, to a greater home

production--

Reply: It leads to sowing on the rocks of the mountains and the sands of

the sea. To milk and steadily milk, a cow gives more milk; for who can

tell the moment when not a drop more can be obtained? But the drop costs

dear.

--If they say to you: Let bread be dear, and the wealthy farmer will

enrich the artisans--

Reply: Bread is dear when there is little of it, a thing which can make

but poor, or, if you please, rich people who are starving.

--If they insist on it, saying: When food is dear, wages rise--

Reply by showing that in April, 1847, five-sixths of the workingmen were

beggars.

--If they say to you: The profits of the workingmen must rise with the

dearness of food--

Reply: This is equivalent to saying that in an unprovisioned vessel

everybody has the same number of biscuits whether he has any or not.

--If they say to you: A good price must be secured for those who sell

grain--

Reply: Certainly; but good wages must be secured to those who buy it.

--If they say to you: The land owners, who make the law, have raised the

price of food without troubling themselves about wages, because they

know that when food becomes dear, wages _naturally_ rise--

Reply: On this principle, when workingmen come to make the law, do not

blame them if they fix a high rate of wages without troubling themselves

to protect grain, for they know that if wages are raised, articles of

food will _naturally_ rise in price.

--If they say to you: What, then, is to be done?

Reply: Be just to everybody.

--If they say to you: It is essential that a great country should

manufacture iron--

Reply: The most essential thing is that this great country _should have

iron_.

--If they say to you: It is necessary that a great country should

manufacture cloth.

Reply: It is more necessary that the citizens of this great country

_should have cloth_.

--If they say to you: Labor is wealth--

Reply: It is false.

And, by way of developing this, add: A bleeding is not health, and the

proof of it is, that it is done to restore health.

--If they say to you: To compel men to work over rocks and get an ounce

of iron from a ton of ore, is to increase their labor, and,

consequently, their wealth--

Reply: To compel men to dig wells, by denying them the use of river

water, is to add to their _useless_ labor, but not their wealth.

--If they say to you: The sun gives his heat and light without requiring

remuneration--

Reply: So much the better for me, since it costs me nothing to see

distinctly.

--And if they reply to you: Industry in general loses what you would

have paid for lights--

Retort: No, for having paid nothing to the sun, I use that which it

saves me in paying for clothes, furniture and candles.

--So, if they say to you: These English rascals have capital which pays

them nothing--

Reply: So much the better for us; they will not make us pay interest.

--If they say to you: These perfidious Englishmen find iron and coal at

the same spot--

Reply: So much the better for us; they will not make us pay anything for

bringing them together.

--If they say to you: The Swiss have rich pastures which cost little--

Reply: The advantage is on our side, for they will ask for a lesser

quantity of our labor to furnish our farmers oxen and our stomachs food.

--If they say to you: The lands in the Crimea are worth nothing, and pay

no taxes--

Reply: The gain is on our side, since we buy grain free from those

charges.

--If they say to you: The serfs of Poland work without wages--

Reply: The loss is theirs and the gain is ours, since their labor is

deducted from the price of the grain which their masters sell us.

--Then, if they say to you: Other nations have many advantages over us--

Reply: By exchange, they are forced to let us share in them.

--If they say to you: With liberty we shall be swamped with bread, beef

_a la mode_, coal, and coats--

Reply: We shall be neither cold nor hungry.

--If they say to you: With what shall we pay?

Reply: Do not be troubled about that. If we are to be inundated, it will

be because we are able to pay. If we cannot pay we will not be

inundated.

--If they say to you: I would allow free trade, if a stranger, in

bringing us one thing, took away another; but he will carry off our

specie--

Reply: Neither specie nor coffee grow in the fields of Beauce or come

out of the manufactories of Elbeuf. For us to pay a foreigner with

specie is like paying him with coffee.

--If they say to you: Eat meat--

Reply: Let it come in.

--If they say to you, like the _Presse_: When you have not the money to

buy bread with, buy beef--

Reply: This advice is as wise as that of Vautour to his tenant, "If a

person has not money to pay his rent with, he ought to have a house of

his own."

--If they say to you, like the _Presse_: The State ought to teach the

people why and how it should eat meat--

Reply: Only let the State allow the meat free entrance, and the most

civilized people in the world are old enough to learn to eat it without

any teacher.

--If they say to you: The State ought to know everything, and foresee

everything, to guide the people, and the people have only to let

themselves be guided--

Reply: Is there a State outside of the people, and a human foresight

outside of humanity? Archimedes might have repeated all the days of his

life, "With a lever and a fulcrum I will move the world," but he could

not have moved it, for want of those two things. The fulcrum of the

State is the nation, and nothing is madder than to build so many hopes

on the State; that is to say, to assume a collective science and

foresight, after having established individual folly and

short-sightedness.

--If they say to you: My God! I ask no favors, but only a duty on grain

and meat, which may compensate for the heavy taxes to which France is

subjected; a mere little duty, equal to what these taxes add to the cost

of my grain--