That Which Is Seen, and That Which Is Not Seen

In the department of economy, an act, a habit, an institution, a law,

gives birth not only to an effect, but to a series of effects. Of these

effects, the first only is immediate; it manifests itself simultaneously

with its cause--_it is seen_. The others unfold in succession--_they are

not seen_: it is well for us if they are _foreseen_. Between a good and

a bad economist this constitutes the whole difference--the one takes

account of the _visible_ effect; the other takes account both of the

effects which are _seen_ and also of those which it is necessary to

_foresee_. Now this difference is enormous, for it almost always happens

that when the immediate consequence is favourable, the ultimate

consequences are fatal, _and the converse_. Hence it follows that the

bad economist pursues a small present good, which will be followed by a

great evil to come, while the true economist pursues a great good to

come, at the risk of a small present evil.

In fact, it is the same in the science of health, arts, and in that of

morals. If often happens, that the sweeter the first fruit of a habit

is, the more bitter are the consequences. Take, for example, debauchery,

idleness, prodigality. When, therefore, a man, absorbed in the effect

which _is seen_, has not yet learned to discern those which are not

seen, he gives way to fatal habits, not only by inclination, but by

calculation.

This explains the fatally grievous condition of mankind. Ignorance

surrounds its cradle: then its actions are determined by their first

consequences, the only ones which, in its first stage, it can see. It is

only in the long run that it learns to take account of the others. It

has to learn this lesson from two very different masters--experience and

foresight. Experience teaches effectually, but brutally. It makes us

acquainted with all the effects of an action, by causing us to feel

them; and we cannot fail to finish by knowing that fire burns, if we

have burned ourselves. For this rough teacher, I should like, if

possible, to substitute a more gentle one. I mean Foresight. For this

purpose I shall examine the consequences of certain economical

phenomena, by placing in opposition to each other those _which are

seen_, and those _which are not seen_.

I.--The Broken Window.

Have you ever witnessed the anger of the good shopkeeper, James B., when

his careless son happened to break a pane of glass? If you have been

present at such a scene, you will most assuredly bear witness to the

fact, that every one of the spectators, were there even thirty of them,

by common consent apparently, offered the unfortunate owner this

invariable consolation--"It is an ill wind that blows nobody good.

Everybody must live, and what would become of the glaziers if panes of

glass were never broken?"

Now, this form of condolence contains an entire theory, which it will be

well to show up in this simple case, seeing that it is precisely the

same as that which, unhappily, regulates the greater part of our

economical institutions.

Suppose it cost six francs to repair the damage, and you say that the

accident brings six francs to the glazier's trade--that it encourages

that trade to the amount of six francs--I grant it; I have not a word to

say against it; you reason justly. The glazier comes, performs his task,

receives his six francs, rubs his hands, and, in his heart, blesses the

careless child. All this is _that which is seen_.

But if, on the other hand, you come to the conclusion, as is too often

the case, that it is a good thing to break windows, that it causes money

to circulate, and that the encouragement of industry in general will be

the result of it, you will oblige me to call out, "Stop there! your

theory is confined to that _which is seen_; it takes no account of that

_which is not seen_."

_It is not seen_ that as our shopkeeper has spent six francs upon one

thing, he cannot spend them upon another. _It is not seen_ that if he

had not had a window to replace, he would, perhaps, have replaced his

old shoes, or added another book to his library. In short, he would have

employed his six francs in some way which this accident has prevented.

Let us take a view of industry in general, as affected by this

circumstance. The window being broken, the glazier's trade is encouraged

to the amount of six francs: _this is that which is seen_.

If the window had not been broken, the shoemaker's trade (or some other)

would have been encouraged to the amount of six francs: this is _that

which is not seen_.

And if _that which is not seen_ is taken into consideration, because it

is a negative fact, as well as that which is seen, because it is a

positive fact, it will be understood that neither industry _in general_,

nor the sum total of _national labour_, is affected, whether windows are

broken or not.

Now let us consider James B. himself. In the former supposition, that of

the window being broken, he spends six francs, and has neither more nor

less than he had before, the enjoyment of a window.

In the second, where we suppose the window not to have been broken, he

would have spent six francs in shoes, and would have had at the same

time the enjoyment of a pair o shoes and of a window.

Now, as James B. forms a part of society, we must come to the

conclusion, that, taking it altogether, and making an estimate of its

enjoyments and its labours, it has lost the value of the broken window.

Whence we arrive at this unexpected conclusion: "Society loses the value

of things which are uselessly destroyed;" and we must assent to a maxim

which will make the hair of protectionists stand on end--To break, to

spoil, to waste, is not to encourage national labour; or, more briefly,

"destruction is not profit."

What will you say, _Moniteur Industriel_--what will you say, disciples

of good M. F. Chamans, who has calculated with so much precision how

much trade would gain by the burning of Paris, from the number of houses

it would be necessary to rebuild?

I am sorry to disturb these ingenious calculations, as far as their

spirit has been introduced into our legislation; but I beg him to begin

them again, by taking into the account _that which is not seen_, and

placing it alongside of _that which is seen_.

The reader must take care to remember that there are not two persons

only, but three concerned in the little scene which I have submitted to

his attention. One of them, James B., represents the consumer, reduced,

by an act of destruction, to one enjoyment instead of two. Another,

under the title of the glazier, shows us the producer, whose trade is

encouraged by the accident. The third is the shoemaker (or some other

tradesman), whose labour suffers proportionably by the same cause. It

is this third person who is always kept in the shade, and who,

personating _that which is not seen_, is a necessary element of the

problem. It is he who shows us how absurd it is to think we see a profit

in an act of destruction. It is he who will soon teach us that it is not

less absurd to see a profit in a restriction, which is, after all,

nothing else than a partial destruction. Therefore, if you will only go

to the root of all the arguments which are adduced in its favour, all

you will find will be the paraphrase of this vulgar saying--_What would

become of the glaziers, if nobody ever broke windows_?

II.--The Disbanding of Troops.

It is the same with a people as it is with a man. If it wishes to give

itself some gratification, it naturally considers whether it is worth

what it costs. To a nation, security is the greatest of advantages. If,

in order to obtain it, it is necessary to have an army of a hundred

thousand men, I have nothing to say against it. It is an enjoyment

bought by a sacrifice. Let me not be misunderstood upon the extent of my

position. A member of the assembly proposes to disband a hundred

thousand men, for the sake of relieving the tax-payers of a hundred

millions.

If we confine ourselves to this answer--"The hundred millions of men,

and these hundred millions of money, are indispensable to the national

security: it is a sacrifice; but without this sacrifice, France would

be torn by factions or invaded by some foreign power,"--I have nothing

to object to this argument, which may be true or false in fact, but

which theoretically contains nothing which militates against economy.

The error begins when the sacrifice itself is said to be an advantage

because it profits somebody.

Now I am very much mistaken if, the moment the author of the proposal

has taken his seat, some orator will not rise and say--"Disband a

hundred thousand men! Do you know what you are saying? What will become

of them? Where will they get a living? Don't you know that work is

scarce everywhere? That every field is over-stocked? Would you turn them

out of doors to increase competition and to weigh upon the rate of

wages? Just now, when it is a hard matter to live at all, it would be a

pretty thing if the State must find bread for a hundred thousand

individuals? Consider, besides, that the army consumes wine, arms,

clothing--that it promotes the activity of manufactures in garrison

towns--that it is, in short, the godsend of innumerable purveyors. Why,

any one must tremble at the bare idea of doing away with this immense

industrial movement."

This discourse, it is evident, concludes by voting the maintenance of a

hundred thousand soldiers, for reasons drawn from the necessity of the

service, and from economical considerations. It is these considerations

only that I have to refute.

A hundred thousand men, costing the tax-payers a hundred millions of

money, live and bring to the purveyors as much as a hundred millions can

supply. This is that _which is seen_.

But, a hundred millions taken from the pockets of the tax-payers, cease

to maintain these tax-payers and the purveyors, as far as a hundred

millions reach. This is _that which is not seen_. Now make your

calculations. Cast up, and tell me what profit there is for the masses?

I will tell you where the _loss_ lies; and to simplify it, instead of

speaking of a hundred thousand men and a million of money, it shall be

of one man and a thousand francs.

We will suppose that we are in the village of A. The recruiting

sergeants go their round, and take off a man. The tax-gatherers go their

round, and take off a thousand francs. The man and the sum of money are

taken to Metz, and the latter is destined to support the former for a

year without doing anything. If you consider Metz only, you are quite

right; the measure is a very advantageous one: but if you look towards

the village of A., you will judge very differently; for, unless you are

very blind indeed, you will see that that village has lost a worker, and

the thousand francs which would remunerate his labour, as well as the

activity which, by the expenditure of those thousand francs, it would

spread around it.

At first sight, there would seem to be some compensation. What took

place at the village, now takes place at Metz, that is all. But the

loss is to be estimated in this way:--At the village, a man dug and

worked; he was a worker. At Metz, he turns to the right about and to the

left about; he is a soldier. The money and the circulation are the same

in both cases; but in the one there were three hundred days of

productive labour, in the other there are three hundred days of

unproductive labour, supposing, of course, that a part of the army is

not indispensable to the public safety.

Now, suppose the disbanding to take place. You tell me there will be a

surplus of a hundred thousand workers, that competition will be

stimulated, and it will reduce the rate of wages. This is what you see.

But what you do not see is this. You do not see that to dismiss a

hundred thousand soldiers is not to do away with a million of money, but

to return it to the tax-payers. You do not see that to throw a hundred

thousand workers on the market, is to throw into it, at the same moment,

the hundred millions of money needed to pay for their labour: that,

consequently, the same act which increases the supply of hands,

increases also the demand; from which it follows, that your fear of a

reduction of wages is unfounded. You do not see that, before the

disbanding as well as after it, there are in the country a hundred

millions of money corresponding with the hundred thousand men. That the

whole difference consists in this: before the disbanding, the country

gave the hundred millions to the hundred thousand men for doing nothing;

and that after it, it pays them the same sum for working. You do not

see, in short, that when a tax-payer gives his money either to a soldier

in exchange for nothing, or to a worker in exchange for something, all

the ultimate consequences of the circulation of this money are the same

in the two cases; only, in the second case the tax-payer receives

something, in the former he receives nothing. The result is--a dead loss

to the nation.

The sophism which I am here combating will not stand the test of

progression, which is the touchstone of principles. If, when every

compensation is made, and all interests satisfied, there is a _national

profit_ in increasing the army, why not enrol under its banners the

entire male population of the country?

III.--Taxes.

Have you never chanced to hear it said: "There is no better investment

than taxes. Only see what a number of families it maintains, and

consider how it reacts upon industry: it is an inexhaustible stream, it

is life itself."

In order to combat this doctrine, I must refer to my preceding

refutation. Political economy knew well enough that its arguments were

not so amusing that it could be said of them, _repetitions please_. It

has, therefore, turned the proverb to its own use, well convinced that,

in its mouth, _repetitions teach_.

The advantages which officials advocate are _those which are seen_. The

benefit which accrues to the providers _is still that which is seen_.

This blinds all eyes.

But the disadvantages which the tax-payers have to get rid of are _those

which are not seen_. And the injury which results from it to the

providers is still that _which is not seen_, although this ought to be

self-evident.

When an official spends for his own profit an extra hundred sous, it

implies that a tax-payer spends for his profit a hundred sous less. But

the expense of the official _is seen_, because the act is performed,

while that of the tax-payer _is not seen_, because, alas! he is

prevented from performing it.

You compare the nation, perhaps to a parched tract of land, and the tax

to a fertilising rain. Be it so. But you ought also to ask yourself

where are the sources of this rain, and whether it is not the tax itself

which draws away the moisture from the ground and dries it up?

Again, you ought to ask yourself whether it is possible that the soil

can receive as much of this precious water by rain as it loses by

evaporation?

There is one thing very certain, that when James B. counts out a hundred

sous for the tax-gatherer, he receives nothing in return. Afterwards,

when an official spends these hundred sous, and returns them to James

B., it is for an equal value in corn or labour. The final result is a

loss to James B. of five francs.

It is very true that often, perhaps very often, the official performs

for James B. an equivalent service. In this case there is no loss on

either side; there is merely an exchange. Therefore, my arguments do not

at all apply to useful functionaries. All I say is,--if you wish to

create an office, prove its utility. Show that its value to James B., by

the services which it performs for him, is equal to what it costs him.

But, apart from this intrinsic utility, do not bring forward as an

argument the benefit which it confers upon the official, his family, and

his providers; do not assert that it encourages labour.

When James B. gives a hundred sous to a Government officer for a really

useful service, it is exactly the same as when he gives a hundred sous

to a shoemaker for a pair of shoes.

But when James B. gives a hundred sous to a Government officer, and

receives nothing for them unless it be annoyances, he might as well give

them to a thief. It is nonsense to say that the Government officer will

spend these hundred sous to the great profit of _national labour_; the

thief would do the same; and so would James B., if he had not been

stopped on the road by the extra-legal parasite, nor by the lawful

sponger.

Let us accustom ourselves, then, to avoid judging of things by _what is

seen_ only, but to judge of them by _that which is not seen_.

Last year I was on the Committee of Finance, for under the constituency

the members of the Opposition were not systematically excluded from all

the Commissions: in that the constituency acted wisely. We have heard M.

Thiers say--"I have passed my life in opposing the legitimist party and

the priest party. Since the common danger has brought us together, now

that I associate with them and know them, and now that we speak face to

face, I have found out that they are not the monsters I used to imagine

them."

Yes, distrust is exaggerated, hatred is fostered among parties who never

mix; and if the majority would allow the minority to be present at the

Commissions, it would perhaps be discovered that the ideas of the

different sides are not so far removed from each other; and, above all,

that their intentions are not so perverse as is supposed. However, last

year I was on the Committee of Finance. Every time that one of our

colleagues spoke of fixing at a moderate figure the maintenance of the

President of the Republic, that of the ministers, and of the

ambassadors, it was answered:--

"For the good of the service, it is necessary to surround certain

offices with splendour and dignity, as a means of attracting men of

merit to them. A vast number of unfortunate persons apply to the

President of the Republic, and it would be placing him in a very painful

position to oblige him to be constantly refusing them. A certain style

in the ministerial saloons is a part of the machinery of constitutional

Governments."

Although such arguments may be controverted, they certainly deserve a

serious examination. They are based upon the public interest, whether

rightly estimated or not; and as far as I am concerned, I have much more

respect for them than many of our Catos have, who are actuated by a

narrow spirit of parsimony or of jealousy.

But what revolts the economical part of my conscience, and makes me

blush for the intellectual resources of my country, is when this absurd

relic of feudalism is brought forward, which it constantly is, and it is

favourably received too:--

"Besides, the luxury of great Government officers encourages the arts,

industry, and labour. The head of the State and his ministers cannot

give banquets and soirées without causing life to circulate through all

the veins of the social body. To reduce their means, would starve

Parisian industry, and consequently that of the whole nation."

I must beg you, gentlemen, to pay some little regard to arithmetic, at

least; and not to say before the National Assembly in France, lest to

its shame it should agree with you, that an addition gives a different

sum, according to whether it is added up from the bottom to the top, or

from the top to the bottom of the column.

For instance, I want to agree with a drainer to make a trench in my

field for a hundred sous. Just as we have concluded our arrangement the

tax-gatherer comes, takes my hundred sous, and sends them to the

Minister of the Interior; my bargain is at end, but the minister will

have another dish added to his table. Upon what ground will you dare to

affirm that this official expense helps the national industry? Do you

not see, that in this there is only a reversing of satisfaction and

labour? A minister has his table better covered, it is true; but it is

just as true that an agriculturist has his field worse drained. A

Parisian tavern-keeper has gained a hundred sous, I grant you; but then

you must grant me that a drainer has been prevented from gaining five

francs. It all comes to this,--that the official and the tavern-keeper

being satisfied, is _that which is seen_; the field undrained, and the

drainer deprived of his job, is _that which is not seen_. Dear me! how

much trouble there is in proving that two and two make four; and if you

succeed in proving it, it is said "the thing is so plain it is quite

tiresome," and they vote as if you had proved nothing at all.

IV.--Theatres, Fine Arts.

Ought the State to support the arts?

There is certainly much to be said on both sides of this question. It

may be said, in favour of the system of voting supplies for this

purpose, that the arts enlarge, elevate, and harmonize the soul of a

nation; that they divert it from too great an absorption in material

occupations; encourage in it a love for the beautiful; and thus act

favourably on its manners, customs, morals, and even on its industry. It

may be asked, what would become of music in France without her Italian

theatre and her Conservatoire; of the dramatic art, without her

Théâtre-Français; of painting and sculpture, without our collections,

galleries, and museums? It might even be asked, whether, without

centralisation, and consequently the support of the fine arts, that

exquisite taste would be developed which is the noble appendage of

French labour, and which introduces its productions to the whole world?

In the face of such results, would it not be the height of imprudence to

renounce this moderate contribution from all her citizens, which, in

fact, in the eyes of Europe, realises their superiority and their glory?

To these and many other reasons, whose force I do not dispute, arguments

no less forcible may be opposed. It might first of all be said, that

there is a question of distributive justice in it. Does the right of the

legislator extend to abridging the wages of the artisan, for the sake

of, adding to the profits of the artist? M. Lamartine said, "If you

cease to support the theatre, where will you stop? Will you not

necessarily be led to withdraw your support from your colleges, your

museums, your institutes, and your libraries? It might be answered, if

you desire to support everything which is good and useful, where will

you stop? Will you not necessarily be led to form a civil list for

agriculture, industry, commerce, benevolence, education? Then, is it

certain that Government aid favours the progress of art? This question

is far from being settled, and we see very well that the theatres which

prosper are those which depend upon their own resources. Moreover, if we

come to higher considerations, we may observe that wants and desires

arise the one from the other, and originate in regions which are more

and more refined in proportion as the public wealth allows of their

being satisfied; that Government ought not to take part in this

correspondence, because in a certain condition of present fortune it

could not by taxation stimulate the arts of necessity without checking

those of luxury, and thus interrupting the natural course of

civilisation. I may observe, that these artificial transpositions of

wants, tastes, labour, and population, place the people in a precarious

and dangerous position, without any solid basis."

These are some of the reasons alleged by the adversaries of State

intervention in what concerns the order in which citizens think their

wants and desires should be satisfied, and to which, consequently, their

activity should be directed. I am, I confess, one of those who think

that choice and impulse ought to come from below and not from above,

from the citizen and not from the legislator; and the opposite doctrine

appears to me to tend to the destruction of liberty and of human

dignity.

But, by a deduction as false as it is unjust, do you know what

economists are accused of? It is, that when we disapprove of government

support, we are supposed to disapprove of the thing itself whose support

is discussed; and to be the enemies of every kind of activity, because

we desire to see those activities, on the one hand free, and on the

other seeking their own reward in themselves. Thus, if we think that the

State should not interfere by taxation in religious affairs, we are

atheists. If we think the State ought not to interfere by taxation in

education, we are hostile to knowledge. If we say that the State ought

not by taxation to give a fictitious value to land, or to any particular

branch of industry, we are enemies to property and labour. If we think

that the State ought not to support artists, we are barbarians, who look

upon the arts as useless.

Against such conclusions as these I protest with all my strength. Far

from entertaining the absurd idea of doing away with religion,

education, property, labour, and the arts, when we say that the State

ought to protect the free development of all these kinds of human

activity, without helping some of them at the expense of others--we

think, on the contrary, that all these living powers of society would

develop themselves more harmoniously under the influence of liberty; and

that, under such an influence no one of them would, as is now the case,

be a source of trouble, of abuses, of tyranny, and disorder.

Our adversaries consider that an activity which is neither aided by

supplies, nor regulated by government, is an activity destroyed. We

think just the contrary. Their faith is in the legislator, not in

mankind; ours is in mankind, not in the legislator.

Thus M. Lamartine said, "Upon this principle we must abolish the public

exhibitions, which are the honour and the wealth of this country." But I

would say to M. Lamartine,--According to your way of thinking, not to

support is to abolish; because, setting out upon the maxim that nothing

exists independently of the will of the State, you conclude that nothing

lives but what the State causes to live. But I oppose to this assertion

the very example which you have chosen, and beg you to remark, that the

grandest and noblest of exhibitions, one which has been conceived in the

most liberal and universal spirit--and I might even make use of the term

humanitary, for it is no exaggeration--is the exhibition now preparing

in London; the only one in which no government is taking any part, and

which is being paid for by no tax.

To return to the fine arts. There are, I repeat, many strong reasons to

be brought, both for and against the system of government assistance.

The reader must see that the especial, object of this work leads me

neither to explain these reasons, nor to decide in their favour, nor

against them.

But M. Lamartine has advanced one argument which I cannot pass by in

silence, for it is closely connected with this economic study. "The

economical question, as regards theatres, is comprised in one

word--labour. It matters little what is the nature of this labour; it is

as fertile, as productive a labour as any other kind of labour in the

nation. The theatres in France, you know, feed and salary no less than

80,000 workmen of different kinds; painters, masons, decorators,

costumers, architects, &c., which constitute the very life and movement

of several parts of this capital, and on this account they ought to have

your sympathies." Your sympathies! say rather your money.

And further on he says: "The pleasures of Paris are the labour and the

consumption of the provinces, and the luxuries of the rich are the wages

and bread of 200,000 workmen of every description, who live by the

manifold industry of the theatres on the surface of the republic, and

who receive from these noble pleasures, which render France illustrious,

the sustenance of their lives and the necessaries of their families and

children. It is to them that you will give 60,000 francs." (Very well;

very well. Great applause.) For my part I am constrained to say, "Very

bad! very bad!" confining this opinion, of course, within the bounds of

the economical question which we are discussing.

Yes, it is to the workmen of the theatres that a part, at least, of

these 60,000 francs will go; a few bribes, perhaps, may be abstracted on

the way. Perhaps, if we were to look a little more closely into the

matter, we might find that the cake had gone another way, and that those

workmen were fortunate who had come in for a few crumbs. But I will

allow, for the sake of argument, that the entire sum does go to the

painters, decorators, &c.

_This is that which is seen._ But whence does it come? This is the other

side of the question, and quite as important as the former. Where do

these 60,000 francs spring from? and where would they go, if a vote of

the legislature did not direct them first towards the Rue Rivoli and

thence towards the Rue Grenelle? This _is what is not seen_. Certainly,

nobody will think of maintaining that the legislative vote has caused

this sum to be hatched in a ballot urn; that it is a pure addition made

to the national wealth; that but for this miraculous vote these 60,000

francs would have been for ever invisible and impalpable. It must be

admitted that all that the majority can do is to decide that they shall

be taken from one place to be sent to another; and if they take one

direction, it is only because they have been diverted from another.

This being the case, it is clear that the tax-payer, who has contributed

one franc, will no longer have this franc at his own disposal. It is

clear that he will be deprived of some gratification to the amount of

one franc; and that the workman, whoever he may be, who would have

received it from him, will be deprived of a benefit to that amount. Let

us not, therefore, be led by a childish illusion into believing that the

vote of the 60,000 francs may add anything whatever to the well-being

of the country, and to national labour. It displaces enjoyments, it

transposes wages--that is all.

Will it be said that for one kind of gratification, and one kind of

labour, it substitutes more urgent, more moral, more reasonable

gratifications and labour? I might dispute this; I might say, by taking

60,000 francs from the tax-payers, you diminish the wages of labourers,

drainers, carpenters, blacksmiths, and increase in proportion those of

the singers.

There is nothing to prove that this latter class calls for more sympathy

than the former. M. Lamartine does not say that it is so. He himself

says that the labour of the theatres is _as_ fertile, _as_ productive as

any other (not more so); and this may be doubted; for the best proof

that the latter is not so fertile as the former lies in this, that the

other is to be called upon to assist it.

But this comparison between the value and the intrinsic merit of

different kinds of labour forms no part of my present subject. All I

have to do here is to show, that if M. Lamartine and those persons who

commend his line of argument have seen on one side the salaries gained

by the _providers_ of the comedians, they ought on the other to have

seen the salaries lost by the _providers_ of the taxpayers: for want of

this, they have exposed themselves to ridicule by mistaking a

_displacement_ for a _gain_. If they were true to their doctrine, there

would be no limits to their demands for government aid; for that which

is true of one franc and of 60,000 is true, under parallel

circumstances, of a hundred millions of francs.

When taxes are the subject of discussion, you ought to prove their

utility by reasons from the root of the matter, but not by this unlucky

assertion--"The public expenses support the working classes." This

assertion disguises the important fact, that _public expenses always_

supersede _private expenses_, and that therefore we bring a livelihood

to one workman instead of another, but add nothing to the share of the

working class as a whole. Your arguments are fashionable enough, but

they are too absurd to be justified by anything like reason.

V.--Public Works.

Nothing is more natural than that a nation, after having assured itself

that an enterprise will benefit the community, should have it executed

by means of a general assessment. But I lose patience, I confess, when I

hear this economic blunder advanced in support of such a

project--"Besides, it will be a means of creating labour for the

workmen."

The State opens a road, builds a palace, straightens a street, cuts a

canal, and so gives work to certain workmen--_this is what is seen_: but

it deprives certain other workmen of work--and this is what _is not

seen_.

The road is begun. A thousand workmen come every morning, leave every

evening, and take their wages--this is certain. If the road had not been

decreed, if the supplies had not been voted, these good people would

have had neither work nor salary there; this also is certain.

But is this all? Does not the operation, as a whole, contain something

else? At the moment when M. Dupin pronounces the emphatic words, "The

Assembly has adopted," do the millions descend miraculously on a

moonbeam into the coffers of MM. Fould and Bineau? In order that the

evolution may be complete, as it is said, must not the State organise

the receipts as well as the expenditure? must it not set its

tax-gatherers and tax-payers to work, the former to gather and the

latter to pay?

Study the question, now, in both its elements. While you state the

destination given by the State to the millions voted, do not neglect to

state also the destination which the tax-payer would have given, but

cannot now give, to the same. Then you will understand that a public

enterprise is a coin with two sides. Upon one is engraved a labourer at

work, with this device, _that which is seen_; on the other is a labourer

out of work, with the device, _that which is not seen_.

The sophism which this work is intended to refute is the more dangerous

when applied to public works, inasmuch as it serves to justify the most

wanton enterprises and extravagance. When a railroad or a bridge are of

real utility, it is sufficient to mention this utility. But if it does

not exist, what do they do? Recourse is had to this mystification: "We

must find work for the workmen."

Accordingly, orders are given that the drains in the Champ-de-Mars be

made and unmade. The great Napoleon, it is said, thought he was doing a

very philanthropic work by causing ditches to be made and then filled

up. He said, therefore, "What signifies the result? All we want is to

see wealth spread among the labouring classes."

But let us go to the root of the matter. We are deceived by money. To

demand the co-operation of all the citizens in a common work, in the

form of money, is in reality to demand a concurrence in kind; for every

one procures, by his own labour, the sum to which he is taxed. Now, if

all the citizens were to be called together, and made to execute, in

conjunction, a work useful to all, this would be easily understood;

their reward would be found in the results of the work itself.

But after having called them together, if you force them to make roads

which no one will pass through, palaces which no one will inhabit, and

this under the pretext of finding them work, it would be absurd, and

they would have a right to argue, "With this labour we have nothing to

do; we prefer working on our own account."

A proceeding which consists in making the citizens co-operate in giving

money but not labour, does not, in any way, alter the general results.

The only thing is, that the loss would react upon all parties. By the

former, those whom the State employs, escape their part of the loss, by

adding it to that which their fellow-citizens have already suffered.

There is an article in our constitution which says:--"Society favours

and encourages the development of labour--by the establishment of public

works, by the State, the departments, and the parishes, as a means of

employing persons who are in want of work."

As a temporary measure, on any emergency, during a hard winter, this

interference with the tax-payers may have its use. It acts in the same

way as securities. It adds nothing either to labour or to wages, but it

takes labour and wages from ordinary times to give them, at a loss it is

true, to times of difficulty.

As a permanent, general, systematic measure, it is nothing else than a

ruinous mystification, an impossibility, which shows a little excited

labour _which is seen_, and hides a great deal of prevented labour

_which is not seen_.

VI.--The Intermediates.

Society is the total of the forced or voluntary services which men

perform for each other; that is to say, of _public services_ and

_private services_.

The former, imposed and regulated by the law, which it is not always

easy to change, even when it is desirable, may survive with it their own

usefulness, and still preserve the name of _public services_, even when

they are no longer services at all, but rather _public annoyances_. The

latter belong to the sphere of the will, of individual responsibility.

Every one gives and receives what he wishes, and what he can, after a

debate. They have always the presumption of real utility, in exact

proportion to their comparative value.

This is the reason why the former description of services so often

become stationary, while the latter obey the law of progress.

While the exaggerated development of public services, by the waste of

strength which it involves, fastens upon society a fatal sycophancy, it

is a singular thing that several modern sects, attributing this

character to free and private services, are endeavouring to transform

professions into functions.

These sects violently oppose what they call intermediates. They would

gladly suppress the capitalist, the banker, the speculator, the

projector, the merchant, and the trader, accusing them of interposing

between production and consumption, to extort from both, without giving

either anything in return. Or rather, they would transfer to the State

the work which they accomplish, for this work cannot be suppressed.

The sophism of the Socialists on this point is, showing to the public

what it pays to the intermediates in exchange for their services, and

concealing from it what is necessary to be paid to the State. Here is

the usual conflict between what is before our eyes and what is

perceptible to the mind only; between _what is seen_ and _what is not

seen_.

It was at the time of the scarcity, in 1847, that the Socialist schools

attempted and succeeded in popularizing their fatal theory. They knew

very well that the most absurd notions have always a chance with people

who are suffering; _malisunda fames_.

Therefore, by the help of the fine words, "trafficking in men by men,

speculation on hunger, monopoly," they began to blacken commerce, and to

cast a veil over its benefits.

"What can be the use," they say, "of leaving to the merchants the care

of importing food from the United States and the Crimea? Why do not the

State, the departments, and the towns, organize a service for provisions

and a magazine for stores? They would sell at a _return price_, and the

people, poor things, would be exempted from the tribute which they pay

to free, that is, to egotistical, individual, and anarchical commerce."

The tribute paid by the people to commerce is _that which is seen_. The

tribute which the people would pay to the State, or to its agents, in

the Socialist system, is _what is not seen_.

In what does this pretended tribute, which the people pay to commerce,

consist? In this: that two men render each other a mutual service, in

all freedom, and under the pressure of competition and reduced prices.

When the hungry stomach is at Paris, and corn which can satisfy it is at

Odessa, the suffering cannot cease till the corn is brought into

contact with the stomach. There are three means by which this contact

may be effected. 1st. The famished men may go themselves and fetch the

corn. 2nd. They may leave this task to those to whose trade it belongs.

3rd. They may club together, and give the office in charge to public

functionaries. Which of these three methods possesses the greatest

advantages? In every time, in all countries, and the more free,

enlightened, and experienced they are, men have _voluntarily_ chosen the

second. I confess that this is sufficient, in my opinion, to justify

this choice. I cannot believe that mankind, as a whole, is deceiving

itself upon a point which touches it so nearly. But let us now consider

the subject.

For thirty-six millions of citizens to go and fetch the corn they want

from Odessa, is a manifest impossibility. The first means, then, goes

for nothing. The consumers cannot act for themselves. They must, of

necessity, have recourse to _intermediates_, officials or agents.

But observe, that the first of these three means would be the most

natural. In reality, the hungry man has to fetch his corn. It is a task

which concerns himself, a service due to himself. If another person, on

whatever ground, performs this service for him, takes the task upon

himself, this latter has a claim upon him for a compensation. I mean by

this to say that intermediates contain in themselves the principle of

remuneration.

However that may be, since we must refer to what the Socialists call a

parasite, I would ask, which of the two is the most exacting parasite

the merchant or the official?

Commerce (free, of course, otherwise I could not reason upon it),

commerce, I say, is led by its own interests to study the seasons, to

give daily statements of the state of the crops, to receive information

from every part of the globe, to foresee wants, to take precautions

beforehand. It has vessels always ready, correspondents everywhere; and

it is its immediate interest to buy at the lowest possible price, to

economize in all the details of its operations, and to attain the

greatest results by the smallest efforts. It is not the French merchants

only who are occupied in procuring provisions for France in time of

need, and if their interest leads them irresistibly to accomplish their

task at the smallest possible cost, the competition which they create

amongst each other leads them no less irresistibly to cause the

consumers to partake of the profits of those realised savings. The corn

arrives: it is to the interest of commerce to sell it as soon as

possible, so as to avoid risks, to realise its funds, and begin again

the first opportunity.

Directed by the comparison of prices, it distributes food over the whole

surface of the country, beginning always at the highest, price, that is,

where the demand is the greatest. It is impossible to imagine an

organisation more completely calculated to meet the interest of those

who are in want; and the beauty of this organisation, unperceived as it

is by the Socialists, results from the very fact that it is free. It is

true, the consumer is obliged to reimburse commerce for the expenses of

conveyance, freight, store-room, commission, &c.; but can any system be

devised in which he who eats corn is not obliged to defray the expenses,

whatever they may be, of bringing it within his reach? The remuneration

for the service performed has to be paid also; but as regards its

amount, this is reduced to the smallest possible sum by competition; and

as regards its justice, it would be very strange if the artizans of

Paris would not work for the artizans of Marseilles, when the merchants

of Marseilles work for the artizans of Paris.

If, according to the Socialist invention, the State were to stand in the

stead of commerce, what would happen? I should like to be informed where

the saving would be to the public? Would it be in the price of purchase?

Imagine the delegates of 40,000 parishes arriving at Odessa on a given

day, and on the day of need: imagine the effect upon prices. Would the

saving be in the expenses? Would fewer vessels be required; fewer

sailors, fewer transports, fewer sloops? or would you be exempt from the

payment of all these things? Would it be in the profits of the

merchants? Would your officials go to Odessa for nothing? Would they

travel and work on the principle of fraternity? Must they not live? Must

not they be paid for their time? And do you believe that these expenses

would not exceed a thousand times the two or three per cent. which the

merchant gains, at the rate at which he is ready to treat?

And then consider the difficulty of levying so many taxes, and of

dividing so much food. Think of the injustice, of the abuses inseparable

from such an enterprise. Think of the responsibility which would weigh

upon the Government.

The Socialists who have invented these follies, and who, in the days of

distress, have introduced them into the minds of the masses, take to

themselves literally the title of _advanced men_; and it is not without

some danger that custom, that tyrant of tongues, authorizes the term,

and the sentiment which it involves. _Advanced!_ This supposes that

these gentlemen can see further than the common people; that their only

fault is that they are too much in advance of their age; and if the time

is not yet come for suppressing certain free services, pretended

parasites, the fault is to be attributed to the public which is in the

rear of Socialism. I say, from my soul and my conscience, the reverse is

the truth; and I know not to what barbarous age we should have to go

back, if we would find the level of Socialist knowledge on this subject.

These modern sectarians incessantly oppose association to actual

society. They overlook the fact that society, under a free regulation,

is a true association, far superior to any of those which proceed from

their fertile imaginations.

Let me illustrate this by an example. Before a mutual services, and to

helping each other in a common object, and that all may be considered,

with respect to others, _intermediates_. If, for instance, in the course

of the operation, the conveyance becomes important enough to occupy one

person, the spinning another, the weaving another, why should the first

be considered a _parasite_ more than the other two? The conveyance must

be made, must it not? Does not he who performs it devote to it his time

and trouble? and by so doing does he not spare that of his colleagues?

Do these do more or other than this for him? Are they not equally

dependent for remuneration, that is, for the division of the produce,

upon the law of reduced price? Is it not in all liberty, for the common

good, that this separation of work takes place, and that these

arrangements are entered into? What do we want with a Socialist then,

who, under pretence of organising for us, comes despotically to break up

our voluntary arrangements, to check the division of labour, to

substitute isolated efforts for combined ones, and to send civilisation

back? Is association, as I describe it here, in itself less association,

because every one enters and leaves it freely, chooses his place in it,

judges and bargains for himself on his own responsibility, and brings

with him the spring and warrant of personal interest? That it may

deserve this name, is it necessary that a pretended reformer should come

and impose upon us his plan and his will, and, as it were, to

concentrate mankind in himself?

The more we examine these _advanced schools_, the more do we become

convinced that there is but one thing at the root of them: ignorance

proclaiming itself infallible, and claiming despotism in the name of

this infallibility.

I hope the reader will excuse this digression. It may not be altogether

useless, at a time when declamations, springing from St. Simonian,

Phalansterian, and Icarian books, are invoking the press and the

tribune, and which seriously threaten the liberty of labour and

commercial transactions.

VII.--Restrictions.

M. Prohibant (it was not I who gave him this name, but M. Charles Dupin)

devoted his time and capital to converting the ore found on his land

into iron. As nature had been more lavish towards the Belgians, they

furnished the French with iron cheaper than M. Prohibant; which means,

that all the French, or France, could obtain a given quantity of iron

with less labour by buying it of the honest Flemings. Therefore, guided

by their own interest, they did not fail to do so; and every day there

might be seen a multitude of nail-smiths, blacksmiths, cartwrights,

machinists, farriers, and labourers, going themselves, or sending

intermediates, to supply themselves in Belgium. This displeased M.

Prohibant exceedingly.

At first, it occurred to him to put an end to this abuse by his own

efforts: it was the least he could do, for he was the only sufferer. "I

will take my carbine," said he; "I will put four pistols into my belt; I

will fill my cartridge box; I will gird on my sword, and go thus

equipped to the frontier. There, the first blacksmith, nail-smith,

farrier, machinist, or locksmith, who presents himself to do his own

business and not mine, I will kill, to teach him how to live." At the

moment of starting, M. Prohibant made a few reflections which calmed

down his warlike ardour a little. He said to himself, "In the first

place, it is not absolutely impossible that the purchasers of iron, my

countrymen and enemies, should take the thing ill, and, instead of

letting me kill them, should kill me instead; and then, even were I to

call out all my servants, we should not be able to defend the passages.

In short, this proceeding would cost me very dear, much more so than the

result would be worth."

M. Prohibant was on the point of resigning himself to his sad fate, that

of being only as free as the rest of the world, when a ray of light

darted across his brain. He recollected that at Paris there is a great

manufactory of laws. "What is a law?" said he to himself. "It is a

measure to which, when once it is decreed, be it good or bad, everybody

is bound to conform. For the execution of the same a public force is

organised, and to constitute the said public force, men and money are

drawn from the whole nation. If, then, I could only get the great

Parisian manufactory to pass a little law, 'Belgian iron is

prohibited,' I should obtain the following results:--The Government

would replace the few valets that I was going to send to the frontier by

20,000 of the sons of those refractory blacksmiths, farriers, artizans,

machinists, locksmiths, nail-smiths, and labourers. Then to keep these

20,000 custom-house officers in health and good humour, it would

distribute among them 25,000,000 of francs taken from these blacksmiths,

nail-smiths, artizans, and labourers. They would guard the frontier much

better; would cost me nothing; I should not be exposed to the brutality

of the brokers; should sell the iron at my own price, and have the sweet

satisfaction of seeing our great people shamefully mystified. That would

teach them to proclaim themselves perpetually the harbingers and

promoters of progress in Europe. Oh! it would be a capital joke, and

deserves to be tried."

So M. Prohibant went to the law manufactory. Another time, perhaps, I

shall relate the story of his underhand dealings, but now I shall merely

mention his visible proceedings. He brought the following consideration

before the view of the legislating gentlemen.

"Belgian iron is sold in France at ten francs, which obliges me to sell

mine at the same price. I should like to sell at fifteen, but cannot do

so on account of this Belgian iron, which I wish was at the bottom of

the Red Sea. I beg you will make a law that no more Belgian iron shall

enter France. Immediately I raise my price five francs, and these are

the consequences:--

"For every hundred-weight of iron that I shall deliver to the public, I

shall receive fifteen francs instead of ten; I shall grow rich more

rapidly, extend my traffic, and employ more workmen. My workmen and I

shall spend much more freely, to the great advantage of our tradesmen

for miles around. These latter, having more custom, will furnish more

employment to trade, and activity on both sides will increase in the

country. This fortunate piece of money, which you will drop into my

strong-box, will, like a stone thrown into a lake, give birth to an

infinite number of concentric circles."

Charmed with his discourse, delighted to learn that it is so easy to

promote, by legislating, the prosperity of a people, the law-makers

voted the restriction. "Talk of labour and economy," they said, "what is

the use of these painful means of increasing the national wealth, when

all that is wanted for this object is a decree?"

And, in fact, the law produced all the consequences announced by M.

Prohibant: the only thing was, it produced others which he had not

foreseen. To do him justice, his reasoning was not false, but only

incomplete. In endeavouring to obtain a privilege, he had taken

cognizance of the effects _which are seen_, leaving in the background

those _which are not seen_. He had pointed out only two personages,

whereas there are three concerned in the affair. It is for us to supply

this involuntary or premeditated omission.

It is true, the crown-piece, thus directed by law into M. Prohibant's

strong-box, is advantageous to him and to those whose labour it would

encourage; and if the Act had caused the crown-piece to descend from the

moon, these good effects would not have been counterbalanced by any

corresponding evils. Unfortunately, the mysterious piece of money does

not come from the moon, but from the pocket of a blacksmith, or a

nail-smith, or a cartwright, or a farrier, or a labourer, or a

shipwright; in a word, from James B., who gives it now without receiving

a grain more of iron than when he was paying ten francs. Thus, we can

see at a glance that this very much alters the state of the case; for it

is very evident that M. Prohibant's _profit_ is compensated by James

B.'s _loss_, and all that M. Prohibant can do with the crown-piece, for

the encouragement of national labour, James B. might have done himself.

The stone has only been thrown upon one part of the lake, because the

law has prevented it from being thrown upon another.

Therefore, _that which is not seen_ supersedes _that which is seen_, and

at this point there remains, as the residue of the operation, a piece of

injustice, and, sad to say, a piece of injustice perpetrated by the law!

This is not all. I have said that there is always a third person left

in the background. I must now bring him forward, that he may reveal to

us a _second loss_ of five francs. Then we shall have the entire results

of the transaction.

James B. is the possessor of fifteen francs, the fruit of his labour. He

is now free. What does he do with his fifteen francs? He purchases some

article of fashion for ten francs, and with it he pays (or the

intermediate pay for him) for the hundred-weight of Belgian iron. After

this he has five francs left. He does not throw them into the river, but

(and this is _what is not seen_) he gives them to some tradesman in

exchange for some enjoyment; to a bookseller, for instance, for

Bossuet's "Discourse on Universal History."

Thus, as far as national labour is concerned, it is encouraged to the

amount of fifteen francs, viz.:--ten francs for the Paris article, five

francs to the bookselling trade.

As to James B., he obtains for his fifteen francs two gratifications,

viz.:--

1st. A hundred-weight of iron.

2nd. A book.

The decree is put in force. How does it affect the condition of James

B.? How does it affect the national labour?

James B. pays every centime of his five francs to M. Prohibant, and

therefore is deprived of the pleasure of a book, or of some other thing

of equal value. He loses five francs. This must be admitted; it cannot

fail to be admitted, that when the restriction raises the price of

things, the consumer loses the difference.

But, then, it is said, _national labour_ is the gainer.

No, it is not the gainer; for since the Act, it is no more encouraged

than it was before, to the amount of fifteen francs.

The only thing is that, since the Act, the fifteen francs of James B. go

to the metal trade, while before it was put in force, they were divided

between the milliner and the bookseller.

The violence used by M. Prohibant on the frontier, or that which he

causes to be used by the law, may be judged very differently in a moral

point of view. Some persons consider that plunder is perfectly

justifiable, if only sanctioned by law. But, for myself, I cannot

imagine anything more aggravating. However it may be, the economical

results are the same in both cases.

Look at the thing as you will; but if you are impartial, you will see

that no good can come of legal or illegal plunder. We do not deny that

it affords M. Prohibant, or his trade, or, if you will, national

industry, a profit of five francs. But we affirm that it causes two

losses, one to James B., who pays fifteen francs where he otherwise

would have paid ten; the other to national industry, which does not

receive the difference. Take your choice of these two losses, and

compensate with it the profit which we allow. The other will prove not

the less a _dead loss_. Here is the moral: To take by violence is not to

produce, but to destroy. Truly, if taking by violence was producing,

this country of ours would be a little richer than she is.

VIII.--Machinery.

"A curse on machines! Every year, their increasing power devotes

millions of workmen to pauperism, by depriving them of work, and

therefore of wages and bread. A curse on machines!"

This is the cry which is raised by vulgar prejudice, and echoed in the

journals.

But to curse machines is to curse the spirit of humanity!

It puzzles me to conceive how any man can feel any satisfaction in such

a doctrine.

For, if true, what is its inevitable consequence? That there is no

activity, prosperity, wealth, or happiness possible for any people,

except for those who are stupid and inert, and to whom God has not

granted the fatal gift of knowing how to think, to observe, to combine,

to invent, and to obtain the greatest results with the smallest means.

On the contrary, rags, mean huts, poverty, and inanition, are the

inevitable lot of every nation which seeks and finds in iron, fire,

wind, electricity, magnetism, the laws of chemistry and mechanics, in a

word, in the powers of nature, an assistance to its natural powers. We

might as well say with Rousseau--"Every man that thinks is a depraved

animal."

This is not all. If this doctrine is true, since all men think and

invent, since all, from first to last, and at every moment of their

existence, seek the co-operation of the powers of nature, and try to

make the most of a little, by reducing either the work of their hands or

their expenses, so as to obtain the greatest possible amount of

gratification with the smallest possible amount of labour, it must

follow, as a matter of course, that the whole of mankind is rushing

towards its decline, by the same mental aspiration towards progress,

which torments each of its members.

Hence, it ought to be made known, by statistics, that the inhabitants of

Lancashire, abandoning that land of machines, seek for work in Ireland,

where they are unknown; and, by history, that barbarism darkens the

epochs of civilisation, and that civilisation shines in times of

ignorance and barbarism.

There is evidently in this mass of contradictions something which

revolts us, and which leads us to suspect that the problem contains

within it an element of solution which has not been sufficiently

disengaged.

Here is the whole mystery: behind _that which is seen_ lies something

_which is not seen_. I will endeavour to bring it to light. The

demonstration I shall give will only be a repetition of the preceding

one, for the problems are one and the same.

Men have a natural propensity to make the best bargain they can, when

not prevented by an opposing force; that is, they like to obtain as much

as they possibly can for their labour, whether the advantage is

obtained from a _foreign producer_ or a skilful _mechanical producer_.

The theoretical objection which is made to this propensity is the same

in both cases. In each case it is reproached with the apparent

inactivity which it causes to labour. Now, labour rendered available,

not inactive, is the very thing which determines it. And, therefore, in

both cases, the same practical obstacle--force, is opposed to it also.

The legislator prohibits foreign competition, and forbids mechanical

competition. For what other means can exist for arresting a propensity

which is natural to all men, but that of depriving them of their

liberty?

In many countries, it is true, the legislator strikes at only one of

these competitions, and confines himself to grumbling at the other. This

only proves one thing, that is, that the legislator is inconsistent.

We need not be surprised at this. On a wrong road, inconsistency is

inevitable; if it were not so, mankind would be sacrificed. A false

principle never has been, and never will be, carried out to the end.

Now for our demonstration, which shall not be a long one.

James B. had two francs which he had gained by two workmen; but it

occurs to him that an arrangement of ropes and weights might be made

which would diminish the labour by half. Therefore he obtains the same

advantage, saves a franc, and discharges a workman.

He discharges a workman: _this is that which is seen_.

And seeing this only, it is said, "See how misery attends civilisation;

this is the way that liberty is fatal to equality. The human mind has

made a conquest, and immediately a workman is cast into the gulf of

pauperism. James B. may possibly employ the two workmen, but then he

will give them only half their wages, for they will compete with each

other, and offer themselves at the lowest price. Thus the rich are

always growing richer, and the poor, poorer. Society wants remodelling."

A very fine conclusion, and worthy of the preamble.

Happily, preamble and conclusion are both false, because, behind the

half of the phenomenon _which is seen_, lies the other half _which is

not seen_.

The franc saved by James B. is not seen, no more are the necessary

effects of this saving.

Since, in consequence of his invention, James B. spends only one franc

on hand labour in the pursuit of a determined advantage, another franc

remains to him.

If, then, there is in the world a workman with unemployed arms, there is

also in the world a capitalist with an unemployed franc. These two

elements meet and combine, and it is as clear as daylight, that between

the supply and demand of labour, and between the supply and demand of

wages, the relation is in no way changed.

The invention and the workman paid with the first franc, now perform

the work which was formerly accomplished by two workmen. The second

workman, paid with the second franc, realises a new kind of work.

What is the change, then, which has taken place? An additional national

advantage has been gained; in other words, the invention is a gratuitous

triumph--a gratuitous profit for mankind.

From the form which I have given to my demonstration, the following

inference might be drawn:--

"It is the capitalist who reaps all the advantage from machinery. The

working class, if it suffers only temporarily, never profits by it,

since, by your own showing, they displace a portion of the national

labour, without diminishing it, it is true, but also without increasing

it."

I do not pretend, in this slight treatise, to answer every objection;

the only end I have in view, is to combat a vulgar, widely spread, and

dangerous prejudice. I want to prove that a new machine only causes the

discharge of a certain number of hands, when the remuneration which pays

them is abstracted by force. These hands and this remuneration would

combine to produce what it was impossible to produce before the

invention; whence it follows, that the final result is _an increase of

advantages for equal labour_.

Who is the gainer by these additional advantages?

First, it is true, the capitalist, the inventor; the first who succeeds

in using the machine; and this is the reward of his genius and courage.

In this case, as we have just seen, he effects a saving upon the expense

of production, which, in whatever way it may be spent (and it always is

spent), employs exactly as many hands as the machine caused to be

dismissed.

But soon competition obliges him to lower his prices in proportion to

the saving itself; and then it is no longer the inventor who reaps the

benefit of the invention--it is the purchaser of what is produced, the

consumer, the public, including the workman; in a word, mankind.

And _that which is not seen_ is, that the saving thus procured for all

consumers creates a fund whence wages may be supplied, and which

replaces that which the machine has exhausted.

Thus, to recur to the forementioned example, James B. obtains a profit

by spending two francs in wages. Thanks to his invention, the hand

labour costs him only one franc. So long as he sells the thing produced

at the same price, he employs one workman less in producing this

particular thing, and that is _what is seen_; but there is an additional

workman employed by the franc which James B. has saved. This is _that

which is not seen_.

When, by the natural progress of things, James B. is obliged to lower

the price of the thing produced by one franc, then he no longer realises

a saving; then he has no longer a franc to dispose of to procure for the

national labour a new production. But then another gainer takes his

place, and this gainer is mankind. Whoever buys the thing he has

produced, pays a franc less, and necessarily adds this saving to the

fund of wages; and this, again, is _what is not seen_.

Another solution, founded upon facts, has been given of this problem of

machinery.

It was said, machinery reduces the expense of production, and lowers the

price of the thing produced. The reduction of the profit causes an

increase of consumption, which necessitates an increase of production;

and, finally, the introduction of as many workmen, or more, after the

invention as were necessary before it. As a proof of this, printing,

weaving, &c., are instanced.

This demonstration is not a scientific one. It would lead us to

conclude, that if the consumption of the particular production of which

we are speaking remains stationary, or nearly so, machinery must injure

labour. This is not the case.

Suppose that in a certain country all the people wore hats. If, by

machinery, the price could be reduced half, it would not _necessarily

follow_ that the consumption would be doubled.

Would you say that in this case a portion of the national labour had

been paralyzed? Yes, according to the vulgar demonstration; but,

according to mine, No; for even if not a single hat more should be

bought in the country, the entire fund of wages would not be the less

secure. That which failed to go to the hat-making trade would be found

to have gone to the economy realised by all the consumers, and would

thence serve to pay for all the labour which the machine had rendered

useless, and to excite a new development of all the trades. And thus it

is that things go on. I have known newspapers to cost eighty francs, now

we pay forty-eight: here is a saving of thirty-two francs to the

subscribers. It is not certain, or at least necessary, that the

thirty-two francs should take the direction of the journalist trade; but

it is certain, and necessary too, that if they do not take this

direction they will take another. One makes use of them for taking in

more newspapers; another, to get better living; another, better clothes;

another, better furniture. It is thus that the trades are bound

together. They form a vast whole, whose different parts communicate by

secret canals: what is saved by one, profits all. It is very important

for us to understand that savings never take place at the expense of

labour and wages.

IX.--Credit.

In all times, but more especially of late years, attempts have been made

to extend wealth by the extension of credit.

I believe it is no exaggeration to say, that since the revolution of

February, the Parisian presses have issued more than 10,000 pamphlets,

crying up this solution of the _social problem_.

The only basis, alas! of this solution, is an optical delusion--if,

indeed, an optical delusion can be called a basis at all.

The first thing done is to confuse cash with produce, then paper money

with cash; and from these two confusions it is pretended that a reality

can be drawn.

It is absolutely necessary in this question to forget money, coin,

bills, and the other instruments by means of which productions pass from

hand to hand. Our business is with the productions themselves, which are

the real objects of the loan; for when a farmer borrows fifty francs to

buy a plough, it is not, in reality, the fifty francs which are lent to

him, but the plough; and when a merchant borrows 20,000 francs to

purchase a house, it is not the 20,000 francs which he owes, but the

house. Money only appears for the sake of facilitating the arrangements

between the parties.

Peter may not be disposed to lend his plough, but James may be willing

to lend his money. What does William do in this case? He borrows money

of James, and with this money he buys the plough of Peter.

But, in point of fact, no one borrows money for the sake of the money

itself; money is only the medium by which to obtain possession of

productions. Now, it is impossible in any country to transmit from one

person to another more productions than that country contains.

Whatever may be the amount of cash and of paper which is in circulation,

the whole of the borrowers cannot receive more ploughs, houses, tools,

and supplies of raw material, than the lenders altogether can furnish;

for we must take care not to forget that every borrower supposes a

lender, and that what is once borrowed implies a loan.

This granted, what advantage is there in institutions of credit? It is,

that they facilitate, between borrowers and lenders, the means of

finding and treating with each other; but it is not in their power to

cause an instantaneous increase of the things to be borrowed and lent.

And yet they ought to be able to do so, if the aim of the reformers is

to be attained, since they aspire to nothing less than to place ploughs,

houses, tools, and provisions in the hands of all those who desire them.

And how do they intend to effect this?

By making the State security for the loan.

Let us try and fathom the subject, for it contains _something which is

seen_, and also _something which is not seen_. We must endeavour to look

at both.

We will suppose that there is but one plough in the world, and that two

farmers apply for it.

Peter is the possessor of the only plough which is to be had in France;

John and James wish to borrow it. John, by his honesty, his property,

and good reputation, offers security. He _inspires confidence_; he has

_credit_. James inspires little or no confidence. It naturally happens

that Peter lends his plough to John.

But now, according to the Socialist plan, the State interferes, and says

to Peter, "Lend your plough to James, I will be security for its

return, and this security will be better than that of John, for he has

no one to be responsible for him but himself; and I, although it is true

that I have nothing, dispose of the fortune of the tax-payers, and it is

with their money that, in case of need, I shall pay you the principal

and interest." Consequently, Peter lends his plough to James: _this is

what is seen_.

And the Socialists rub their hands, and say, "See how well our plan has

answered. Thanks to the intervention of the State, poor James has a

plough. He will no longer be obliged to dig the ground; he is on the

road to make a fortune. It is a good thing for him, and an advantage to

the nation as a whole."

Indeed, it is no such thing; it is no advantage to the nation, for there

is something behind _which is not seen_.

_It is not seen_, that the plough is in the hands of James, only because

it is not in those of John.

_It is not seen_, that if James farms instead of digging, John will be

reduced to the necessity of digging instead of farming.

That, consequently, what was considered an increase of loan, is nothing

but a displacement of loan. Besides, _it is not seen_ that this

displacement implies two acts of deep injustice.

It is an injustice to John, who, after having deserved and obtained

_credit_ by his honesty and activity, sees himself robbed of it.

It is an injustice to the tax-payers, who are made to pay a debt which

is no concern of theirs.

Will any one say, that Government offers the same facilities to John as

it does to James? But as there is only one plough to be had, two cannot

be lent. The argument always maintains that, thanks to the intervention

of the State, more will be borrowed than there are things to be lent;

for the plough represents here the bulk of available capitals.

It is true, I have reduced the operation to the most simple expression

of it, but if you submit the most complicated Government institutions of

credit to the same test, you will be convinced that they can have but

one result; viz., to displace credit, not to augment it. In one country,

and in a given time, there is only a certain amount of capital

available, and all are employed. In guaranteeing the non-payers, the

State may, indeed, increase the number of borrowers, and thus raise the

rate of interest (always to the prejudice of the tax-payer), but it has

no power to increase the number of lenders, and the importance of the

total of the loans.

There is one conclusion, however, which I would not for the world be

suspected of drawing. I say, that the law ought not to favour,

artificially, the power of borrowing, but I do not say that it ought not

to restrain them artificially. If, in our system of mortgage, or in any

other, there be obstacles to the diffusion of the application of credit,

let them be got rid of; nothing can be better or more just than this.

But this is all which is consistent with liberty, and it is all that any

who are worthy of the name of reformers will ask.

X.--Algeria.

Here are four orators disputing for the platform. First, all the four

speak at once; then they speak one after the other. What have they said?

Some very fine things, certainly, about the power and the grandeur of

France; about the necessity of sowing, if we would reap; about the

brilliant future of our gigantic colony; about the advantage of

diverting to a distance the surplus of our population, &c. &c.

Magnificent pieces of eloquence, and always adorned with this

conclusion:--"Vote fifty millions, more or less, for making ports and

roads in Algeria; for sending emigrants thither; for building houses and

breaking up land. By so doing, you will relieve the French workman,

encourage African labour, and give a stimulus to the commerce of

Marseilles. It would be profitable every way."

Yes, it is all very true, if you take no account of the fifty millions

until the moment when the State begins to spend them; if you only see

where they go, and not whence they come; if you look only at the good

they are to do when they come out of the tax-gatherer's bag, and not at

the harm which has been done, and the good which has been prevented, by

putting them into it. Yes, at this limited point of view, all is profit.

The house which is built in Barbary is _that which is seen_; the

harbour made in Barbary is _that which is seen_; the work caused in

Barbary is _what is seen_; a few less hands in France is _what is seen_;

a great stir with goods at Marseilles is still _that which is seen_.

But, besides all this, there is something _which is not seen_. The fifty

millions expended by the State cannot be spent, as they otherwise would

have been, by the tax-payers. It is necessary to deduct, from all the

good attributed to the public expenditure which has been effected, all

the harm caused by the prevention of private expense, unless we say that

James B. would have done nothing with the crown that he had gained, and

of which the tax had deprived him; an absurd assertion, for if he took

the trouble to earn it, it was because he expected the satisfaction of

using it. He would have repaired the palings in his garden, which he

cannot now do, and this is _that which is not seen_. He would have

manured his field, which now he cannot do, and this is _what is not

seen_. He would have added another story to his cottage, which he cannot

do now, and this is _what is not seen_. He might have increased the

number of his tools, which he cannot do now, and this is _what is not

seen_. He would have been better fed, better clothed, have given a

better education to his children, and increased his daughter's marriage

portion; this is _what is not seen_. He would have become a member of

the Mutual Assistance Society, but now he cannot; this is _what is not

seen_. On one hand, are the enjoyments of which he has been deprived,

and the means of action which have been destroyed in his hands; on the

other, are the labour of the drainer, the carpenter, the smith, the

tailor, the village schoolmaster, which he would have encouraged, and

which are now prevented--all this is _what is not seen_.

Much is hoped from the future prosperity of Algeria; be it so. But the

drain to which France is being subjected ought not to be kept entirely

out of sight. The commerce of Marseilles is pointed out to me; but if

this is to be brought about by means of taxation, I shall always show

that an equal commerce is destroyed thereby in other parts of the

country. It is said, "There is an emigrant transported into Barbary;

this is a relief to the population which remains in the country," I

answer, "How can that be, if, in transporting this emigrant to Algiers,

you also transport two or three times the capital which would have

served to maintain him in France?"[4]

The only object I have in view is to make it evident to the reader, that

in every public expense, behind the apparent benefit, there is an evil

which it is not so easy to discern. As far as in me lies, I would make

him form a habit of seeing both, and taking account of both.

When a public expense is proposed, it ought to be examined in itself,

separately from the pretended encouragement of labour which results from

it, for tins encouragement is a delusion. Whatever is done in this way

at the public expense, private expense would have done all the same;

therefore, the interest of labour is always out of the question.

It is not the object of this treatise to criticise the intrinsic merit

of the public expenditure as applied to Algeria, but I cannot withhold a

general observation. It is, that the presumption is always unfavourable

to collective expenses by way of tax. Why? For this reason:--First,

justice always suffers from it in some degree. Since James B. had

laboured to gain his crown, in the hope of receiving a gratification

from it, it is to be regretted that the exchequer should interpose, and

take from James B. this gratification, to bestow it upon another.

Certainly, it behoves the exchequer, or those who regulate it, to give

good reasons for this. It has been shown that the State gives a very

provoking one, when it says, "With this crown I shall employ workmen;"

for James B. (as soon as he sees it) will be sure to answer, "It is all

very fine, but with this crown I might employ them myself."

Apart from this reason, others present themselves without disguise, by

which the debate between the exchequer and poor James becomes much

simplified. If the State says to him, "I take your crown to pay the

gendarme, who saves you the trouble of providing for your own personal

safety; for paving the street which you are passing through every day;

for paying the magistrate who causes your property and your liberty to

be respected; to maintain the soldier who maintains our

frontiers,"--James B., unless I am much mistaken, will pay for all this

without hesitation. But if the State were to say to him, "I take this

crown that I may give you a little prize in case you cultivate your

field well; or that I may teach your son something that you have no wish

that he should learn; or that the Minister may add another to his score

of dishes at dinner; I take it to build a cottage in Algeria, in which

case I must take another crown every year to keep an emigrant in it, and

another hundred to maintain a soldier to guard this emigrant, and

another crown to maintain a general to guard this soldier," &c., &c.,--I

think I hear poor James exclaim, "This system of law is very much like a

system of cheat!" The State foresees the objection, and what does it do?

It jumbles all things together, and brings forward just that provoking

reason which ought to have nothing whatever to do with the question. It

talks of the effect of this crown upon labour; it points to the cook and

purveyor of the Minister; it shows an emigrant, a soldier, and a

general, living upon the crown; it shows, in fact, _what is seen_, and

if James B. has not learned to take into the account _what is not seen_,

James B. will be duped. And this is why I want to do all I can to

impress it upon his mind, by repeating it over and over again.

As the public expenses displace labour without increasing it, a second

serious presumption presents itself against them. To displace labour is

to displace labourers, and to disturb the natural laws which regulate

the distribution of the population over the country. If 50,000,000

francs are allowed to remain in the possession of the tax-payers since

the tax-payers are everywhere, they encourage labour in the 40,000

parishes in France. They act like a natural tie, which keeps every one

upon his native soil; they distribute themselves amongst all imaginable

labourers and trades. If the State, by drawing off these 60,000,000

francs from the citizens, accumulates them, and expends them on some

given point, it attracts to this point a proportional quantity of

displaced labour, a corresponding number of labourers, belonging to

other parts; a fluctuating population, which is out of its place, and I

venture to say dangerous when the fund is exhausted. Now here is the

consequence (and this confirms all I have said): this feverish activity

is, as it were, forced into a narrow space; it attracts the attention of

all; it is _what is seen_. The people applaud; they are astonished at

the beauty and facility of the plan, and expect to have it continued and

extended. _That which they do not see_ is, that an equal quantity of

labour, which would probably be more valuable, has been paralyzed over

the rest of France.

XI.--Frugality and Luxury.

It is not only in the public expenditure that _what is seen_ eclipses

_what is not seen_. Setting aside what relates to political economy,

this phenomenon leads to false reasoning. It causes nations to consider

their moral and their material interests as contradictory to each other.

What can be more discouraging or more dismal?

For instance, there is not a father of a family who does not think it

his duty to teach his children order, system, the habits of carefulness,

of economy, and of moderation in spending money.

There is no religion which does not thunder against pomp and luxury.

This is as it should be; but, on the other hand, how frequently do we

hear the following remarks:--

"To hoard, is to drain the veins of the people."

"The luxury of the great is the comfort of the little."

"Prodigals ruin themselves, but they enrich the State."

"It is the superfluity of the rich which makes bread for the poor."

Here, certainly, is a striking contradiction between the moral and the

social idea. How many eminent spirits, after having made the assertion,

repose in peace. It is a thing I never could understand, for it seems to

me that nothing can be more distressing than to discover two opposite

tendencies in mankind. Why, it comes to degradation at each of the

extremes: economy brings it to misery; prodigality plunges it into moral

degradation. Happily, these vulgar maxims exhibit economy and luxury in

a false light, taking account, as they do, of those immediate

consequences _which are seen_, and not of the remote ones, _which are

not seen_. Let us see if we can rectify this incomplete view of the

case.

Mondor and his brother Aristus, after dividing the parental inheritance,

have each an income of 50,000 francs. Mondor practises the fashionable

philanthropy. He is what is called a squanderer of money. He renews his

furniture several times a year; changes his equipages every month.

People talk of his ingenious contrivances to bring them sooner to an

end: in short, he surpasses the fast livers of Balzac and Alexander

Dumas.

Thus everybody is singing his praises. It is, "Tell us about Mondor!

Mondor for ever! He is the benefactor of the workman; a blessing to the

people. It is true, he revels in dissipation; he splashes the

passers-by; his own dignity and that of human nature are lowered a

little; but what of that? He does good with his fortune, if not with

himself. He causes money to circulate; he always sends the tradespeople

away satisfied. Is not money made round that it may roll?"

Aristus has adopted a very different plan of life. If he is not an

egotist, he is, at any rate, an _individualist_, for he considers

expense, seeks only moderate and reasonable enjoyments, thinks of his

children's prospects, and, in fact, he _economises_.

And what do people say of him? "What is the good of a rich fellow like

him? He is a skinflint. There is something imposing, perhaps, in the

simplicity of his life; and he is humane, too, and benevolent, and

generous, but he _calculates_. He does not spend his income; his house

is neither brilliant nor bustling. What good does he do to the

paper-hangers, the carriage makers, the horse dealers, and the

confectioners?"

These opinions, which are fatal to morality, are founded upon what

strikes the eye:--the expenditure of the prodigal; and another, which is

out of sight, the equal and even superior expenditure of the economist.

But things have been so admirably arranged by the Divine inventor of

social order, that in this, as in everything else, political economy and

morality, far from clashing, agree; and the wisdom of Aristus is not

only more dignified, but still more _profitable_, than the folly of

Mondor. And when I say profitable, I do not mean only profitable to

Aristus, or even to society in general, but more profitable to the

workmen themselves--to the trade of the time.

To prove it, it is only necessary to turn the mind's eye to those hidden

consequences of human actions, which the bodily eye does not see.

Yes, the prodigality of Mondor has visible effects in every point of

view. Everybody can see his landaus, his phaetons, his berlins, the

delicate paintings on his ceilings, his rich carpets, the brilliant

effects of his house. Every one knows that his horses run upon the turf.

The dinners which he gives at the Hotel de Paris attract the attention

of the crowds on the Boulevards; and it is said, "That is a generous

man; far from saving his income, he is very likely breaking into his

capital." That is _what is seen_.

It is not so easy to see, with regard to the interest of workers, what

becomes of the income of Aristus. If we were to trace it carefully,

however, we should see that the whole of it, down to the last farthing,

affords work to the labourers, as certainly as the fortune of Mondor.

Only there is this difference: the wanton extravagance of Mondor is

doomed to be constantly decreasing, and to come to an end without fail;

whilst the wise expenditure of Aristus will go on increasing from year

to year. And if this is the case, then, most assuredly, the public

interest will be in unison with morality.

Aristus spends upon himself and his household 20,000 francs a year. If

that is not sufficient to content him, he does not deserve to be called

a wise man. He is touched by the miseries which oppress the poorer

classes; he thinks he is bound in conscience to afford them some relief,

and therefore he devotes 10,000 francs to acts of benevolence. Amongst

the merchants, the manufacturers, and the agriculturists, he has friends

who are suffering under temporary difficulties; he makes himself

acquainted with their situation, that he may assist them with prudence

and efficiency, and to this work he devotes 10,000 francs more. Then he

does not forget that he has daughters to portion, and sons for whose

prospects it is his duty to provide, and therefore he considers it a

duty to lay by and put out to interest 10,000 francs every year.