The correspondence 1 of P. J. Proudhon, the first
volumes of which we publish to-day, has been collected since his death by
the faithful and intelligent labors of his daughter, aided by a few
friends. It was incomplete when submitted to Sainte Beuve, but the portion
with which the illustrious academician became acquainted was sufficient to
allow him to estimate it as a whole with that soundness of judgment which
characterized him as a literary critic.

He would, however, caution readers against accepting the biographer’s
interpretation of the author’s views as in any sense authoritative;
advising them, rather, to await the publication of the remainder of
Proudhon’s writings, that they may form an opinion for themselves.—Translator.

In an important work, which his habitual readers certainly have not
forgotten, although death did not allow him to finish it, Sainte Beuve
thus judges the correspondence of the great publicist:—

“The letters of Proudhon, even outside the circle of his particular
friends, will always be of value; we can always learn something from them,
and here is the proper place to determine the general character of his
correspondence.

“It has always been large, especially since he became so celebrated; and,
to tell the truth, I am persuaded that, in the future, the correspondence
of Proudhon will be his principal, vital work, and that most of his books
will be only accessory to and corroborative of this. At any rate, his
books can be well understood only by the aid of his letters and the
continual explanations which he makes to those who consult him in their
doubt, and request him to define more clearly his position.

“There are, among celebrated people, many methods of correspondence. There
are those to whom letter-writing is a bore, and who, assailed with
questions and compliments, reply in the greatest haste, solely that the
job may be over with, and who return politeness for politeness, mingling
it with more or less wit. This kind of correspondence, though coming from
celebrated people, is insignificant and unworthy of collection and
classification.

“After those who write letters in performance of a disagreeable duty, and
almost side by side with them in point of insignificance, I should put
those who write in a manner wholly external, wholly superficial, devoted
only to flattery, lavishing praise like gold, without counting it; and
those also who weigh every word, who reply formally and pompously, with a
view to fine phrases and effects. They exchange words only, and choose
them solely for their brilliancy and show. You think it is you,
individually, to whom they speak; but they are addressing themselves in
your person to the four corners of Europe. Such letters are empty, and
teach as nothing but theatrical execution and the favorite pose of their
writers.

“I will not class among the latter the more prudent and sagacious authors
who, when writing to individuals, keep one eye on posterity. We know that
many who pursue this method have written long, finished, charming,
flattering, and tolerably natural letters. Beranger furnishes us with the
best example of this class.

“Proudhon, however, is a man of entirely different nature and habits. In
writing, he thinks of nothing but his idea and the person whom he
addresses: ad rem et ad hominem. A man of conviction and doctrine, to
write does not weary him; to be questioned does not annoy him. When
approached, he cares only to know that your motive is not one of futile
curiosity, but the love of truth; he assumes you to be serious, he
replies, he examines your objections, sometimes verbally, sometimes in
writing; for, as he remarks, ‘if there be some points which correspondence
can never settle, but which can be made clear by conversation in two
minutes, at other times just the opposite is the case: an objection
clearly stated in writing, a doubt well expressed, which elicits a direct
and positive reply, helps things along more than ten hours of oral
intercourse!’ In writing to you he does not hesitate to treat the subject
anew; he unfolds to you the foundation and superstructure of his thought:
rarely does he confess himself defeated—it is not his way; he holds
to his position, but admits the breaks, the variations, in short, the
EVOLUTION of his mind. The history of his mind is in his letters; there it
must be sought.

“Proudhon, whoever addresses him, is always ready; he quits the page of
the book on which he is at work to answer you with the same pen, and that
without losing patience, without getting confused, without sparing or
complaining of his ink; he is a public man, devoted to the propagation of
his idea by all methods, and the best method, with him, is always the
present one, the latest one. His very handwriting, bold, uniform, legible,
even in the most tiresome passages, betrays no haste, no hurry to finish.
Each line is accurate: nothing is left to chance; the punctuation, very
correct and a little emphatic and decided, indicates with precision and
delicate distinction all the links in the chain of his argument. He is
devoted entirely to you, to his business and yours, while writing to you,
and never to anything else. All the letters of his which I have seen are
serious: not one is commonplace.

“But at the same time he is not at all artistic or affected; he does not
CONSTRUCT his letters, he does not revise them, he spends no time in
reading them over; we have a first draught, excellent and clear, a jet
from the fountain-head, but that is all. The new arguments, which he
discovers in support of his ideas and which opposition suggests to him,
are an agreeable surprise, and shed a light which we should vainly search
for even in his works. His correspondence differs essentially from his
books, in that it gives you no uneasiness; it places you in the very heart
of the man, explains him to you, and leaves you with an impression of
moral esteem and almost of intellectual security. We feel his sincerity. I
know of no one to whom he can be more fitly compared in this respect than
George Sand, whose correspondence is large, and at the same time full of
sincerity. His role and his nature correspond. If he is writing to a young
man who unbosoms himself to him in sceptical anxiety, to a young woman who
asks him to decide delicate questions of conduct for her, his letter takes
the form of a short moral essay, of a father-confessor’s advice. Has he
perchance attended the theatre (a rare thing for him) to witness one of
Ponsart’s comedies, or a drama of Charles Edmond’s, he feels bound to give
an account of his impressions to the friend to whom he is indebted for
this pleasure, and his letter becomes a literary and philosophical
criticism, full of sense, and like no other. His familiarity is suited to
his correspondent; he affects no rudeness. The terms of civility or
affection which he employs towards his correspondents are sober, measured,
appropriate to each, and honest in their simplicity and cordiality. When
he speaks of morals and the family, he seems at times like the patriarchs
of the Bible. His command of language is complete, and he never fails to
avail himself of it. Now and then a coarse word, a few personalities, too
bitter and quite unjust or injurious, will have to be suppressed in
printing; time, however, as it passes away, permits many things and
renders them inoffensive. Am I right in saying that Proudhon’s
correspondence, always substantial, will one day be the most accessible
and attractive portion of his works?”

Almost the whole of Proudhon’s real biography is included in his
correspondence. Up to 1837, the date of the first letter which we have
been able to collect, his life, narrated by Sainte Beuve, from whom we
make numerous extracts, may be summed up in a few pages.

Pierre Joseph Proudhon was born on the 15th of January, 1809, in a suburb
of Besancon, called Mouillere. His father and mother were employed in the
great brewery belonging to M. Renaud. His father, though a cousin of the
jurist Proudhon, the celebrated professor in the faculty of Dijon, was a
journeyman brewer. His mother, a genuine peasant, was a common servant.
She was an orderly person of great good sense; and, as they who knew her
say, a superior woman of HEROIC character,—to use the expression of
the venerable M. Weiss, the librarian at Besancon. She it was especially
that Proudhon resembled: she and his grandfather Tournesi, the soldier
peasant of whom his mother told him, and whose courageous deeds he has
described in his work on “Justice.” Proudhon, who always felt a great
veneration for his mother Catharine, gave her name to the elder of his
daughters. In 1814, when Besancon was blockaded, Mouillere, which stood in
front of the walls of the town, was destroyed in the defence of the place;
and Proudhon’s father established a cooper’s shop in a suburb of Battant,
called Vignerons. Very honest, but simple-minded and short-sighted, this
cooper, the father of five children, of whom Pierre Joseph was the eldest,
passed his life in poverty. At eight years of age, Proudhon either made
himself useful in the house, or tended the cattle out of doors. No one
should fail to read that beautiful and precious page of his work on
“Justice,” in which he describes the rural sports which he enjoyed when a
neatherd. At the age of twelve, he was a cellar-boy in an inn. This,
however, did not prevent him from studying.

His mother was greatly aided by M. Renaud, the former owner of the
brewery, who had at that time retired from business, and was engaged in
the education of his children.

Proudhon entered school as a day-scholar in the sixth class. He was
necessarily irregular in his attendance; domestic cares and restraints
sometimes kept him from his classes. He succeeded nevertheless in his
studies; he showed great perseverance. His family were so poor that they
could not afford to furnish him with books; he was obliged to borrow them
from his comrades, and copy the text of his lessons. He has himself told
us that he was obliged to leave his wooden shoes outside the door, that he
might not disturb the classes with his noise; and that, having no hat, he
went to school bareheaded. One day, towards the close of his studies, on
returning from the distribution of the prizes, loaded with crowns, he
found nothing to eat in the house.

“In his eagerness for labor and his thirst for knowledge, Proudhon,” says
Sainte Beuve, “was not content with the instruction of his teachers. From
his twelfth to his fourteenth year, he was a constant frequenter of the
town library. One curiosity led to another, and he called for book after
book, sometimes eight or ten at one sitting. The learned librarian, the
friend and almost the brother of Charles Nodier, M. Weiss, approached him
one day, and said, smiling, ‘But, my little friend, what do you wish to do
with all these books?’ The child raised his head, eyed his questioner, and
replied: ‘What’s that to you?’ And the good M. Weiss remembers it to this
day.”

Forced to earn his living, Proudhon could not continue his studies. He
entered a printing-office in Besancon as a proof-reader. Becoming, soon
after, a compositor, he made a tour of France in this capacity. At Toulon,
where he found himself without money and without work, he had a scene with
the mayor, which he describes in his work on “Justice.”

Sainte Beuve says that, after his tour of France, his service book being
filled with good certificates, Proudhon was promoted to the position of
foreman. But he does not tell us, for the reason that he had no knowledge
of a letter written by Fallot, of which we never heard until six months
since, that the printer at that time contemplated quitting his trade in
order to become a teacher.

Towards 1829, Fallot, who was a little older than Proudhon, and who, after
having obtained the Suard pension in 1832, died in his twenty-ninth year,
while filling the position of assistant librarian at the Institute, was
charged, Protestant though he was, with the revisal of a “Life of the
Saints,” which was published at Besancon. The book was in Latin, and
Fallot added some notes which also were in Latin.

“But,” says Sainte Beuve, “it happened that some errors escaped his
attention, which Proudhon, then proof-reader in the printing office, did
not fail to point out to him. Surprised at finding so good a Latin scholar
in a workshop, he desired to make his acquaintance; and soon there sprung
up between them a most earnest and intimate friendship: a friendship of
the intellect and of the heart.”

Addressed to a printer between twenty-two and twenty-three years of age,
and predicting in formal terms his future fame, Fallot’s letter seems to
us so interesting that we do not hesitate to reproduce it entire.

“PARIS, December 5, 1831.

“MY DEAR PROUDHON,—YOU have a right to be surprised at, and even
dissatisfied with, my long delay in replying to your kind letter; I will
tell you the cause of it. It became necessary to forward an account of
your ideas to M. J. de Gray; to hear his objections, to reply to them, and
to await his definitive response, which reached me but a short time ago;
for M. J. is a sort of financial king, who takes no pains to be punctual
in dealing with poor devils like ourselves. I, too, am careless in matters
of business; I sometimes push my negligence even to disorder, and the
metaphysical musings which continually occupy my mind, added to the
amusements of Paris, render me the most incapable man in the world for
conducting a negotiation with despatch.

“I have M. Jobard’s decision; here it is: In his judgment, you are too
learned and clever for his children; he fears that you could not
accommodate your mind and character to the childish notions common to
their age and station. In short, he is what the world calls a good father;
that is, he wants to spoil his children, and, in order to do this easily,
he thinks fit to retain his present instructor, who is not very learned,
but who takes part in their games and joyous sports with wonderful
facility, who points out the letters of the alphabet to the little girl,
who takes the little boys to mass, and who, no less obliging than the
worthy Abbe P. of our acquaintance, would readily dance for Madame’s
amusement. Such a profession would not suit you, you who have a free,
proud, and manly soul: you are refused; let us dismiss the matter from our
minds. Perhaps another time my solicitude will be less unfortunate. I can
only ask your pardon for having thought of thus disposing of you almost
without consulting you. I find my excuse in the motives which guided me; I
had in view your well-being and advancement in the ways of this world.

“I see in your letter, my comrade, through its brilliant witticisms and
beneath the frank and artless gayety with which you have sprinkled it, a
tinge of sadness and despondency which pains me. You are unhappy, my
friend: your present situation does not suit you; you cannot remain in it,
it was not made for you, it is beneath you; you ought, by all means, to
leave it, before its injurious influence begins to affect your faculties,
and before you become settled, as they say, in the ways of your
profession, were it possible that such a thing could ever happen, which I
flatly deny. You are unhappy; you have not yet entered upon the path which
Nature has marked out for you. But, faint-hearted soul, is that a cause
for despondency? Ought you to feel discouraged? Struggle, morbleu,
struggle persistently, and you will triumph. J. J. Rousseau groped about
for forty years before his genius was revealed to him. You are not J. J
Rousseau; but listen: I know not whether I should have divined the author
of “Emile” when he was twenty years of age, supposing that I had been his
contemporary, and had enjoyed the honor of his acquaintance. But I have
known you, I have loved you, I have divined your future, if I may venture
to say so; for the first time in my life, I am going to risk a prophecy.
Keep this letter, read it again fifteen or twenty years hence, perhaps
twenty-five, and if at that time the prediction which I am about to make
has not been fulfilled, burn it as a piece of folly out of charity and
respect for my memory. This is my prediction: you will be, Proudhon, in
spite of yourself, inevitably, by the fact of your destiny, a writer, an
author; you will be a philosopher; you will be one of the lights of the
century, and your name will occupy a place in the annals of the nineteenth
century, like those of Gassendi, Descartes, Malebranche, and Bacon in the
seventeenth, and those of Diderot, Montesquieu, Helvetius. Locke, Hume,
and Holbach in the eighteenth. Such will be your lot! Do now what you
will, set type in a printing-office, bring up children, bury yourself in
deep seclusion, seek obscure and lonely villages, it is all one to me; you
cannot escape your destiny; you cannot divest yourself of your noblest
feature, that active, strong, and inquiring mind, with which you are
endowed; your place in the world has been appointed, and it cannot remain
empty. Go where you please, I expect you in Paris, talking philosophy and
the doctrines of Plato; you will have to come, whether you want to or not.
I, who say this to you, must feel very sure of it in order to be willing
to put it upon paper, since, without reward for my prophetic skill,—to
which, I assure you, I make not the slightest claim,—I run the risk
of passing for a hare-brained fellow, in case I prove to be mistaken: he
plays a bold game who risks his good sense upon his cards, in return for
the very trifling and insignificant merit of having divined a young man’s
future.

“When I say that I expect you in Paris, I use only a proverbial phrase
which you must not allow to mislead you as to my projects and plans. To
reside in Paris is disagreeable to me, very much so; and when this
fine-art fever which possesses me has left me, I shall abandon the place
without regret to seek a more peaceful residence in a provincial town,
provided always the town shall afford me the means of living, bread, a
bed, books, rest, and solitude. How I miss, my good Proudhon, that dark,
obscure, smoky chamber in which I dwelt in Besancon, and where we spent so
many pleasant hours in the discussion of philosophy! Do you remember it?
But that is now far away. Will that happy time ever return? Shall we one
day meet again? Here my life is restless, uncertain, precarious, and, what
is worse, indolent, illiterate, and vagrant. I do no work, I live in
idleness, I ramble about; I do not read, I no longer study; my books are
forsaken; now and then I glance over a few metaphysical works, and after a
days walk through dirty, filthy, crowded streets. I lie down with empty
head and tired body, to repeat the performance on the following day. What
is the object of these walks, you will ask. I make visits, my friend; I
hold interviews with stupid people. Then a fit of curiosity seizes me, the
least inquisitive of beings: there are museums, libraries, assemblies,
churches, palaces, gardens, and theatres to visit. I am fond of pictures,
fond of music, fond of sculpture; all these are beautiful and good, but
they cannot appease hunger, nor take the place of my pleasant readings of
Bailly, Hume, and Tennemann, which I used to enjoy by my fireside when I
was able to read.

“But enough of complaints. Do not allow this letter to affect you too
much, and do not think that I give way to dejection or despondency; no, I
am a fatalist, and I believe in my star. I do not know yet what my calling
is, nor for what branch of polite literature I am best fitted; I do not
even know whether I am, or ever shall be, fitted for any: but what matters
it? I suffer, I labor, I dream, I enjoy, I think; and, in a word, when my
last hour strikes, I shall have lived.

“Proudhon, I love you, I esteem you; and, believe me, these are not mere
phrases. What interest could I have in flattering and praising a poor
printer? Are you rich, that you may pay for courtiers? Have you a
sumptuous table, a dashing wife, and gold to scatter, in order to attract
them to your suite? Have you the glory, honors, credit, which would render
your acquaintance pleasing to their vanity and pride? No; you are poor,
obscure, abandoned; but, poor, obscure, and abandoned, you have a friend,
and a friend who knows all the obligations which that word imposes upon
honorable people, when they venture to assume it. That friend is myself:
put me to the test.

“GUSTAVE FALLOT.”

It appears from this letter that if, at this period, Proudhon had already
exhibited to the eyes of a clairvoyant friend his genius for research and
investigation, it was in the direction of philosophical, rather than of
economical and social, questions.

Having become foreman in the house of Gauthier & Co., who carried on a
large printing establishment at Besancon, he corrected the proofs of
ecclesiastical writers, the Fathers of the Church. As they were printing a
Bible, a Vulgate, he was led to compare the Latin with the original
Hebrew.

“In this way,” says Sainte Beuve, “he learned Hebrew by himself, and, as
everything was connected in his mind, he was led to the study of
comparative philology. As the house of Gauthier published many works on
Church history and theology, he came also to acquire, through this desire
of his to investigate everything, an extensive knowledge of theology,
which afterwards caused misinformed persons to think that he had been in
an ecclesiastical seminary.”

Towards 1836, Proudhon left the house of Gauthier, and, in company with an
associate, established a small printing-office in Besancon. His
contribution to the partnership consisted, not so much in capital, as in
his knowledge of the trade. His partner committing suicide in 1838,
Proudhon was obliged to wind up the business, an operation which he did
not accomplish as quickly and as easily as he hoped. He was then urged by
his friends to enter the ranks of the competitors for the Suard pension.
This pension consisted of an income of fifteen hundred francs bequeathed
to the Academy of Besancon by Madame Suard, the widow of the academician,
to be given once in three years to the young man residing in the
department of Doubs, a bachelor of letters or of science, and not
possessing a fortune, whom the Academy of Besancon SHOULD DEEM BEST FITTED
FOR A LITERARY OR SCIENTIFIC CAREER, OR FOR THE STUDY OF LAW OR OF
MEDICINE. The first to win the Suard pension was Gustave Fallot. Mauvais,
who was a distinguished astronomer in the Academy of Sciences, was the
second. Proudhon aspired to be the third. To qualify himself, he had to be
received as a bachelor of letters, and was obliged to write a letter to
the Academy of Besancon. In a phrase of this letter, the terms of which he
had to modify, though he absolutely refused to change its spirit, Proudhon
expressed his firm resolve to labor for the amelioration of the condition
of his brothers, the working-men.

The only thing which he had then published was an “Essay on General
Grammar,” which appeared without the author’s signature. While reprinting,
at Besancon, the “Primitive Elements of Languages, Discovered by the
Comparison of Hebrew roots with those of the Latin and French,” by the
Abbe Bergier, Proudhon had enlarged the edition of his “Essay on General
Grammar.”

The date of the edition, 1837, proves that he did not at that time think
of competing for the Suard pension. In this work, which continued and
completed that of the Abbe Bergier, Proudhon adopted the same point of
view, that of Moses and of Biblical tradition. Two years later, in
February, 1839, being already in possession of the Suard pension, he
addressed to the Institute, as a competitor for the Volney prize, a memoir
entitled: “Studies in Grammatical Classification and the Derivation of
some French words.” It was his first work, revised and presented in
another form. Four memoirs only were sent to the Institute, none of which
gained the prize. Two honorable mentions were granted, one of them to
memoir No. 4; that is, to P. J. Proudhon, printer at Besancon. The judges
were MM. Amedde Jaubert, Reinaud, and Burnouf.

“The committee,” said the report presented at the annual meeting of the
five academies on Thursday, May 2, 1839, “has paid especial attention to
manuscripts No. 1 and No. 4. Still, it does not feel able to grant the
prize to either of these works, because they do not appear to be
sufficiently elaborated. The committee, which finds in No. 4 some
ingenious analyses, particularly in regard to the mechanism of the Hebrew
language, regrets that the author has resorted to hazardous conjectures,
and has sometimes forgotten the special recommendation of the committee to
pursue the experimental and comparative method.”

Proudhon remembered this. He attended the lectures of Eugene Burnouf, and,
as soon as he became acquainted with the labors and discoveries of Bopp
and his successors, he definitively abandoned an hypothesis which had been
condemned by the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-lettres. He then sold,
for the value of the paper, the remaining copies of the “Essay” published
by him in 1837. In 1850, they were still lying in a grocer’s back-shop.

A neighboring publisher then placed the edition on the market, with the
attractive name of Proudhon upon it. A lawsuit ensued, in which the author
was beaten. His enemies, and at that time there were many of them, would
have been glad to have proved him a renegade and a recanter. Proudhon, in
his work on “Justice,” gives some interesting details of this lawsuit.

In possession of the Suard pension, Proudhon took part in the contest
proposed by the Academy of Besancon on the question of the utility of the
celebration of Sunday. His memoir obtained honorable mention, together
with a medal which was awarded him, in open session, on the 24th of
August, 1839. The reporter of the committee, the Abbe Doney, since made
Bishop of Montauban, called attention to the unquestionable superiority of
his talent.

“But,” says Sainte Beuve, “he reproached him with having adopted dangerous
theories, and with having touched upon questions of practical politics and
social organization, where upright intentions and zeal for the public
welfare cannot justify rash solutions.”

Was it policy, we mean prudence, which induced Proudhon to screen his
ideas of equality behind the Mosaic law? Sainte Beuve, like many others,
seems to think so. But we remember perfectly well that, having asked
Proudhon, in August, 1848, if he did not consider himself indebted in some
respects to his fellow-countryman, Charles Fourier, we received from him
the following reply: “I have certainly read Fourier, and have spoken of
him more than once in my works; but, upon the whole, I do not think that I
owe anything to him. My real masters, those who have caused fertile ideas
to spring up in my mind, are three in number: first, the Bible; next, Adam
Smith; and last, Hegel.”

Freely confessed in the “Celebration of Sunday,” the influence of the
Bible on Proudhon is no less manifest in his first memoir on property.
Proudhon undoubtedly brought to this work many ideas of his own; but is
not the very foundation of ancient Jewish law to be found in its
condemnation of usurious interest and its denial of the right of personal
appropriation of land?

The first memoir on property appeared in 1840, under the title, “What is
Property? or an Inquiry into the Principle of Right and of Government.”
Proudhon dedicated it, in a letter which served as the preface, to the
Academy of Besancon. The latter, finding itself brought to trial by its
pensioner, took the affair to heart, and evoked it, says Sainte Beuve,
with all possible haste.

The pension narrowly escaped being immediately withdrawn from the bold
defender of the principle of equality of conditions. M. Vivien, then
Minister of Justice, who was earnestly solicited to prosecute the author,
wished first to obtain the opinion of the economist, Blanqui, a member of
the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences. Proudhon having presented to
this academy a copy of his book, M. Blanqui was appointed to review it.
This review, though it opposed Proudhon’s views, shielded him. Treated as
a savant by M. Blanqui, the author was not prosecuted. He was always
grateful to MM. Blanqui and Vivien for their handsome conduct in the
matter.

M. Blanqui’s review, which was partially reproduced by “Le Moniteur,” on
the 7th of September, 1840, naturally led Proudhon to address to him, in
the form of a letter, his second memoir on property, which appeared in
April, 1841. Proudhon had endeavored, in his first memoir, to demonstrate
that the pursuit of equality of conditions is the true principle of right
and of government. In the “Letter to M. Blanqui,” he passes in review the
numerous and varied methods by which this principle gradually becomes
realized in all societies, especially in modern society.

In 1842, a third memoir appeared, entitled, “A Notice to Proprietors, or a
Letter to M. Victor Considerant, Editor of ‘La Phalange,’ in Reply to a
Defence of Property.” Here the influence of Adam Smith manifested itself,
and was frankly admitted. Did not Adam Smith find, in the principle of
equality, the first of all the laws which govern wages? There are other
laws, undoubtedly; but Proudhon considers them all as springing from the
principle of property, as he defined it in his first memoir. Thus, in
humanity, there are two principles,—one which leads us to equality,
another which separates us from it. By the former, we treat each other as
associates; by the latter, as strangers, not to say enemies. This
distinction, which is constantly met with throughout the three memoirs,
contained already, in germ, the idea which gave birth to the “System of
Economical Contradictions,” which appeared in 1846, the idea of antinomy
or contre-loi.

The “Notice to Proprietors” was seized by the magistrates of Besancon; and
Proudhon was summoned to appear before the assizes of Doubs within a week.
He read his written defence to the jurors in person, and was acquitted.
The jury, like M. Blanqui, viewed him only as a philosopher, an inquirer,
a savant.

In 1843, Proudhon published the “Creation of Order in Humanity,” a large
volume, which does not deal exclusively with questions of social economy.
Religion, philosophy, method, certainty, logic, and dialectics are treated
at considerable length.

Released from his printing-office on the 1st of March of the same year,
Proudhon had to look for a chance to earn his living. Messrs. Gauthier
Bros., carriers by water between Mulhouse and Lyons, the eldest of whom
was Proudhon’s companion in childhood, conceived the happy thought of
employing him, of utilizing his ability in their business, and in settling
the numerous points of difficulty which daily arose. Besides the large
number of accounts which his new duties required him to make out, and
which retarded the publication of the “System of Economical
Contradictions,” until October, 1846, we ought to mention a work, which,
before it appeared in pamphlet form, was published in the “Revue des
Economistes,”—”Competition between Railroads and Navigable Ways.”

“Le Miserere, or the Repentance of a King,” which he published in March,
1845, in the “Revue Independante,” during that Lenten season when
Lacordaire was preaching in Lyons, proves that, though devoting himself
with ardor to the study of economical problems, Proudhon had not lost his
interest in questions of religious history. Among his writings on these
questions, which he was unfortunately obliged to leave unfinished, we may
mention a nearly completed history of the early Christian heresies, and of
the struggle of Christianity against Caesarism.

We have said that, in 1848, Proudhon recognized three masters. Having no
knowledge of the German language, he could not have read the works of
Hegel, which at that time had not been translated into French. It was
Charles Grun, a German, who had come to France to study the various
philosophical and socialistic systems, who gave him the substance of the
Hegelian ideas. During the winter of 1844-45, Charles Grun had some long
conversations with Proudhon, which determined, very decisively, not the
ideas, which belonged exclusively to the bisontin thinker, but the form of
the important work on which he labored after 1843, and which was published
in 1846 by Guillaumin.

Hegel’s great idea, which Proudhon appropriated, and which he demonstrates
with wonderful ability in the “System of Economical Contradictions,” is as
follows: Antinomy, that is, the existence of two laws or tendencies which
are opposed to each other, is possible, not only with two different
things, but with one and the same thing. Considered in their thesis, that
is, in the law or tendency which created them, all the economical
categories are rational,—competition, monopoly, the balance of
trade, and property, as well as the division of labor, machinery,
taxation, and credit. But, like communism and population, all these
categories are antinomical; all are opposed, not only to each other, but
to themselves. All is opposition, and disorder is born of this system of
opposition. Hence, the sub-title of the work,—”Philosophy of
Misery.” No category can be suppressed; the opposition, antinomy, or
contre-tendance, which exists in each of them, cannot be suppressed.

Where, then, lies the solution of the social problem? Influenced by the
Hegelian ideas, Proudhon began to look for it in a superior synthesis,
which should reconcile the thesis and antithesis. Afterwards, while at
work upon his book on “Justice,” he saw that the antinomical terms do not
cancel each other, any more than the opposite poles of an electric pile
destroy each other; that they are the procreative cause of motion, life,
and progress; that the problem is to discover, not their fusion, which
would be death, but their equilibrium,—an equilibrium for ever
unstable, varying with the development of society.

On the cover of the “System of Economical Contradictions,” Proudhon
announced, as soon to appear, his “Solution of the Social Problem.” This
work, upon which he was engaged when the Revolution of 1848 broke out, had
to be cut up into pamphlets and newspaper articles. The two pamphlets,
which he published in March, 1848, before he became editor of “Le
Representant du Peuple,” bear the same title,—”Solution of the
Social Problem.” The first, which is mainly a criticism of the early acts
of the provisional government, is notable from the fact that in it
Proudhon, in advance of all others, energetically opposed the
establishment of national workshops. The second, “Organization of Credit
and Circulation,” sums up in a few pages his idea of economical progress:
a gradual reduction of interest, profit, rent, taxes, and wages. All
progress hitherto has been made in this manner; in this manner it must
continue to be made. Those workingmen who favor a nominal increase of
wages are, unconsciously following a back-track, opposed to all their
interests.

After having published in “Le Representant du Peuple,” the statutes of the
Bank of Exchange,—a bank which was to make no profits, since it was
to have no stockholders, and which, consequently, was to discount
commercial paper with out interest, charging only a commission sufficient
to defray its running expenses,—Proudhon endeavored, in a number of
articles, to explain its mechanism and necessity. These articles have been
collected in one volume, under the double title, “Resume of the Social
Question; Bank of Exchange.” His other articles, those which up to
December, 1848, were inspired by the progress of events, have been
collected in another volume,—”Revolutionary Ideas.”

Almost unknown in March, 1848, and struck off in April from the list of
candidates for the Constituent Assembly by the delegation of workingmen
which sat at the Luxembourg, Proudhon had but a very small number of votes
at the general elections of April. At the complementary elections, which
were held in the early days of June, he was elected in Paris by
seventy-seven thousand votes.

After the fatal days of June, he published an article on le terme, which
caused the first suspension of “Le Representant du Peuple.” It was at that
time that he introduced a bill into the Assembly, which, being referred to
the Committee on the Finances, drew forth, first, the report of M. Thiers,
and then the speech which Proudhon delivered, on the 31st of July, in
reply to this report. “Le Representant du Peuple,” reappearing a few days
later, he wrote, a propos of the law requiring journals to give bonds, his
famous article on “The Malthusians” (August 10, 1848).

Ten days afterwards, “Le Representant du Peuple,” again suspended,
definitively ceased to appear. “Le Peuple,” of which he was the
editor-in-chief, and the first number of which was issued in the early
part of September, appeared weekly at first, for want of sufficient bonds;
it afterwards appeared daily, with a double number once a week. Before “Le
Peuple” had obtained its first bond, Proudhon published a remarkable
pamphlet on the “Right to Labor,”—a right which he denied in the
form in which it was then affirmed. It was during the same period that he
proposed, at the Poissonniere banquet, his Toast to the Revolution.

Proudhon, who had been asked to preside at the banquet, refused, and
proposed in his stead, first, Ledru-Rollin, and then, in view of the
reluctance of the organizers of the banquet, the illustrious president of
the party of the Mountain, Lamennais. It was evidently his intention to
induce the representatives of the Extreme Left to proclaim at last with
him the Democratic and Social Republic. Lamennais being accepted by the
organizers, the Mountain promised to be present at the banquet. The night
before, all seemed right, when General Cavaignac replaced Minister Senart
by Minister Dufaure-Vivien. The Mountain, questioning the government,
proposed a vote of confidence in the old minister, and, tacitly, of want
of confidence in the new. Proudhon abstained from voting on this
proposition. The Mountain declared that it would not attend the banquet,
if Proudhon was to be present. Five Montagnards, Mathieu of Drome at their
head, went to the temporary office of “Le Peuple” to notify him of this.
“Citizen Proudhon,” said they to the organizers in his presence, “in
abstaining from voting to-day on the proposition of the Mountain, has
betrayed the Republican cause.” Proudhon, vehemently questioned, began his
defence by recalling, on the one hand, the treatment which he had received
from the dismissed minister; and, on the other, the impartial conduct
displayed towards him in 1840 by M. Vivien, the new minister. He then
attacked the Mountain by telling its delegates that it sought only a
pretext, and that really, in spite of its professions of Socialism in
private conversation, whether with him or with the organizers of the
banquet, it had not the courage to publicly declare itself Socialist.

On the following day, in his Toast to the Revolution, a toast which was
filled with allusions to the exciting scene of the night before, Proudhon
commenced his struggle against the Mountain. His duel with Felix Pyat was
one of the episodes of this struggle, which became less bitter on
Proudhon’s side after the Mountain finally decided to publicly proclaim
the Democratic and Social Republic. The campaign for the election of a
President of the Republic had just begun. Proudhon made a very sharp
attack on the candidacy of Louis Bonaparte in a pamphlet which is regarded
as one of his literary chefs-d’oeuvre: the “Pamphlet on the Presidency.”
An opponent of this institution, against which he had voted in the
Constituent Assembly, he at first decided to take no part in the campaign.
But soon seeing that he was thus increasing the chances of Louis
Bonaparte, and that if, as was not at all probable, the latter should not
obtain an absolute majority of the votes, the Assembly would not fail to
elect General Cavaignac, he espoused, for the sake of form, the candidacy
of Raspail, who was supported by his friends in the Socialist Committee.
Charles Delescluze, the editor-in-chief of “La Revolution Democratique et
Sociale,” who could not forgive him for having preferred Raspail to
Ledru-Rollin, the candidate of the Mountain, attacked him on the day after
the election with a violence which overstepped all bounds. At first,
Proudhon had the wisdom to refrain from answering him. At length, driven
to an extremity, he became aggressive himself, and Delescluze sent him his
seconds. This time, Proudhon positively refused to fight; he would not
have fought with Felix Pyat, had not his courage been called in question.

On the 25th of January, 1849, Proudhon, rising from a sick bed, saw that
the existence of the Constituent Assembly was endangered by the coalition
of the monarchical parties with Louis Bonaparte, who was already planning
his coup d’Etat. He did not hesitate to openly attack the man who had just
received five millions of votes. He wanted to break the idol; he succeeded
only in getting prosecuted and condemned himself. The prosecution demanded
against him was authorized by a majority of the Constituent Assembly, in
spite of the speech which he delivered on that occasion. Declared guilty
by the jury, he was sentenced, in March, 1849, to three years’
imprisonment and the payment of a fine of ten thousand francs.

Proudhon had not abandoned for a single moment his project of a Bank of
Exchange, which was to operate without capital with a sufficient number of
merchants and manufacturers for adherents. This bank, which he then called
the Bank of the People, and around which he wished to gather the numerous
working-people’s associations which had been formed since the 24th of
February, 1848, had already obtained a certain number of subscribers and
adherents, the latter to the number of thirty-seven thousand. It was about
to commence operations, when Proudhon’s sentence forced him to choose
between imprisonment and exile. He did not hesitate to abandon his project
and return the money to the subscribers. He explained the motives which
led him to this decision in an article in “Le Peuple.”

Having fled to Belgium, he remained there but a few days, going thence to
Paris, under an assumed name, to conceal himself in a house in the Rue de
Chabrol. From his hiding-place he sent articles almost every day, signed
and unsigned, to “Le Peuple.” In the evening, dressed in a blouse, he went
to some secluded spot to take the air. Soon, emboldened by habit, he
risked an evening promenade upon the Boulevards, and afterwards carried
his imprudence so far as to take a stroll by daylight in the neighborhood
of the Gare du Nord. It was not long before he was recognized by the
police, who arrested him on the 6th of June, 1849, in the Rue du
Faubourg-Poissonniere.

Taken to the office of the prefect of police, then to Sainte-Pelagie, he
was in the Conciergerie on the day of the 13th of June, 1849, which ended
with the violent suppression of “Le Peuple.” He then began to write the
“Confessions of a Revolutionist,” published towards the end of the year.
He had been again transferred to Sainte-Pelagie, when he married, in
December, 1849, Mlle. Euphrasie Piegard, a young working girl whose hand
he had requested in 1847. Madame Proudhon bore him four daughters, of whom
but two, Catherine and Stephanie, survived their father. Stephanie died in
1873.

In October, 1849, “Le Peuple” was replaced by a new journal, “La Voix du
Peuple,” which Proudhon edited from his prison cell. In it were published
his discussions with Pierre Leroux and Bastiat.

The political articles which he sent to “La Voix du Peuple” so displeased
the government finally, that it transferred him to Doullens, where he was
secretly confined for some time. Afterwards taken back to Paris, to appear
before the assizes of the Seine in reference to an article in “La Voix du
Peuple,” he was defended by M. Cremieux and acquitted. From the
Conciergerie he went again to Sainte-Pelagie, where he ended his three
years in prison on the 6th of June, 1852.

“La Voix du Peuple,” suppressed before the promulgation of the law of the
31st of May, had been replaced by a weekly sheet, “Le Peuple” of 1850.
Established by the aid of the principal members of the Mountain, this
journal soon met with the fate of its predecessors.

In 1851, several months before the coup d’Etat, Proudhon published the
“General Idea of the Revolution of the Nineteenth Century,” in which,
after having shown the logical series of unitary governments,—from
monarchy, which is the first term, to the direct government of the people,
which is the last,—he opposes the ideal of an-archy or
self-government to the communistic or governmental ideal.

At this period, the Socialist party, discouraged by the elections of 1849,
which resulted in a greater conservative triumph than those of 1848, and
justly angry with the national representative body which had just passed
the law of the 31st of May, 1850, demanded direct legislation and direct
government. Proudhon, who did not want, at any price, the plebiscitary
system which he had good reason to regard as destructive of liberty, did
not hesitate to point out, to those of his friends who expected every
thing from direct legislation, one of the antinomies of universal
suffrage. In so far as it is an institution intended to achieve, for the
benefit of the greatest number, the social reforms to which landed
suffrage is opposed, universal suffrage is powerless; especially if it
pretends to legislate or govern directly. For, until the social reforms
are accomplished, the greatest number is of necessity the least
enlightened, and consequently the least capable of understanding and
effecting reforms. In regard to the antinomy, pointed out by him, of
liberty and government,—whether the latter be monarchic,
aristocratic, or democratic in form,—Proudhon, whose chief desire
was to preserve liberty, naturally sought the solution in the free
contract. But though the free contract may be a practical solution of
purely economical questions, it cannot be made use of in politics.
Proudhon recognized this ten years later, when his beautiful study on “War
and Peace” led him to find in the FEDERATIVE PRINCIPLE the exact
equilibrium of liberty and government.

“The Social Revolution Demonstrated by the Coup d’ Etat” appeared in 1852,
a few months after his release from prison. At that time, terror prevailed
to such an extent that no one was willing to publish his book without
express permission from the government. He succeeded in obtaining this
permission by writing to Louis Bonaparte a letter which he published at
the same time with the work. The latter being offered for sale, Proudhon
was warned that he would not be allowed to publish any more books of the
same character. At that time he entertained the idea of writing a
universal history entitled “Chronos.” This project was never fulfilled.

Already the father of two children, and about to be presented with a
third, Proudhon was obliged to devise some immediate means of gaining a
living; he resumed his labors, and published, at first anonymously, the
“Manual of a Speculator in the Stock-Exchange.” Later, in 1857, after
having completed the work, he did not hesitate to sign it, acknowledging
in the preface his indebtedness to his collaborator, G. Duchene.

Meantime, he vainly sought permission to establish a journal, or review.
This permission was steadily refused him. The imperial government always
suspected him after the publication of the “Social Revolution Demonstrated
by the Coup d’Etat.”

Towards the end of 1853, Proudhon issued in Belgium a pamphlet entitled
“The Philosophy of Progress.” Entirely inoffensive as it was, this
pamphlet, which he endeavored to send into France, was seized on the
frontier. Proudhon’s complaints were of no avail.

The empire gave grants after grants to large companies. A financial
society, having asked for the grant of a railroad in the east of France,
employed Proudhon to write several memoirs in support of this demand. The
grant was given to another company. The author was offered an indemnity as
compensation, to be paid (as was customary in such cases) by the company
which received the grant. It is needless to say that Proudhon would accept
nothing. Then, wishing to explain to the public, as well as to the
government, the end which he had in view, he published the work entitled
“Reforms to be Effected in the Management of Railroads.”

Towards the end of 1854, Proudhon had already begun his book on “Justice,”
when he had a violent attack of cholera, from which he recovered with
great difficulty. Ever afterwards his health was delicate.

At last, on the 22d of April, 1858, he published, in three large volumes,
the important work upon which he had labored since 1854. This work had two
titles: the first, “Justice in the Revolution and in the Church;” the
second, “New Principles of Practical Philosophy, addressed to His Highness
Monseigneur Mathieu, Cardinal-Archbishop of Besancon.” On the 27th of
April, when there had scarcely been time to read the work, an order was
issued by the magistrate for its seizure; on the 28th the seizure was
effected. To this first act of the magistracy, the author of the
incriminated book replied on the 11th of May in a strongly-motived
petition, demanding a revision of the concordat of 1802; or, in other
words, a new adjustment of the relations between Church and State. At
bottom, this petition was but the logical consequence of the work itself.
An edition of a thousand copies being published on the 17th of May, the
“Petition to the Senate” was regarded by the public prosecutor as an
aggravation of the offence or offences discovered in the body of the work
to which it was an appendix, and was seized in its turn on the 23d. On the
first of June, the author appealed to the Senate in a second “Petition,”
which was deposited with the first in the office of the Secretary of the
Assembly, the guardian and guarantee, according to the constitution of
1852, of the principles of ’89. On the 2d of June, the two processes being
united, Proudhon appeared at the bar with his publisher, the printer of
the book, and the printer of the petition, to receive the sentence of the
police magistrate, which condemned him to three years’ imprisonment, a
fine of four thousand francs, and the suppression of his work. It is
needless to say that the publisher and printers were also condemned by the
sixth chamber.

Proudhon lodged an appeal; he wrote a memoir which the law of 1819, in the
absence of which he would have been liable to a new prosecution, gave him
the power to publish previous to the hearing. Having decided to make use
of the means which the law permitted, he urged in vain the printers who
were prosecuted with him to lend him their aid. He then demanded of
Attorney-General Chaix d’Est Ange a statement to the effect that the
twenty-third article of the law of the 17th of May, 1819, allows a written
defence, and that a printer runs no risk in printing it. The
attorney-general flatly refused. Proudhon then started for Belgium, where
he printed his defence, which could not, of course, cross the French
frontier. This memoir is entitled to rank with the best of Beaumarchais’s;
it is entitled: “Justice prosecuted by the Church; An Appeal from the
Sentence passed upon P. J. Proudhon by the Police Magistrate of the Seine,
on the 2d of June, 1858.” A very close discussion of the grounds of the
judgment of the sixth chamber, it was at the same time an excellent resume
of his great work.

Once in Belgium, Proudhon did not fail to remain there. In 1859, after the
general amnesty which followed the Italian war, he at first thought
himself included in it. But the imperial government, consulted by his
friends, notified him that, in its opinion, and in spite of the contrary
advice of M. Faustin Helie, his condemnation was not of a political
character. Proudhon, thus classed by the government with the authors of
immoral works, thought it beneath his dignity to protest, and waited
patiently for the advent of 1863 to allow him to return to France.

In Belgium, where he was not slow in forming new friendships, he published
in 1859-60, in separate parts, a new edition of his great work on
“Justice.” Each number contained, in addition to the original text
carefully reviewed and corrected, numerous explanatory notes and some
“Tidings of the Revolution.” In these tidings, which form a sort of review
of the progress of ideas in Europe, Proudhon sorrowfully asserts that,
after having for a long time marched at the head of the progressive
nations, France has become, without appearing to suspect it, the most
retrogressive of nations; and he considers her more than once as seriously
threatened with moral death.

The Italian war led him to write a new work, which he published in 1861,
entitled “War and Peace.” This work, in which, running counter to a
multitude of ideas accepted until then without examination, he pronounced
for the first time against the restoration of an aristocratic and priestly
Poland, and against the establishment of a unitary government in Italy,
created for him a multitude of enemies. Most of his friends, disconcerted
by his categorical affirmation of a right of force, notified him that they
decidedly disapproved of his new publication. “You see,” triumphantly
cried those whom he had always combated, “this man is only a sophist.”

Led by his previous studies to test every thing by the question of right,
Proudhon asks, in his “War and Peace,” whether there is a real right of
which war is the vindication, and victory the demonstration. This right,
which he roughly calls the right of the strongest or the right of force,
and which is, after all, only the right of the most worthy to the
preference in certain definite cases, exists, says Proudhon, independently
of war. It cannot be legitimately vindicated except where necessity
clearly demands the subordination of one will to another, and within the
limits in which it exists; that is, without ever involving the enslavement
of one by the other. Among nations, the right of the majority, which is
only a corollary of the right of force, is as unacceptable as universal
monarchy. Hence, until equilibrium is established and recognized between
States or national forces, there must be war. War, says Proudhon, is not
always necessary to determine which side is the strongest; and he has no
trouble in proving this by examples drawn from the family, the workshop,
and elsewhere. Passing then to the study of war, he proves that it by no
means corresponds in practice to that which it ought to be according to
his theory of the right of force. The systematic horrors of war naturally
lead him to seek a cause for it other than the vindication of this right;
and then only does the economist take it upon himself to denounce this
cause to those who, like himself, want peace. The necessity of finding
abroad a compensation for the misery resulting in every nation from the
absence of economical equilibrium, is, according to Proudhon, the ever
real, though ever concealed, cause of war. The pages devoted to this
demonstration and to his theory of poverty, which he clearly distinguishes
from misery and pauperism, shed entirely new light upon the philosophy of
history. As for the author’s conclusion, it is a very simple one. Since
the treaty of Westphalia, and especially since the treaties of 1815,
equilibrium has been the international law of Europe. It remains now, not
to destroy it, but, while maintaining it, to labor peacefully, in every
nation protected by it, for the equilibrium of economical forces. The last
line of the book, evidently written to check imperial ambition, is:
“Humanity wants no more war.”

In 1861, after Garibaldi’s expedition and the battle of Castelfidardo,
Proudhon immediately saw that the establishment of Italian unity would be
a severe blow to European equilibrium. It was chiefly in order to maintain
this equilibrium that he pronounced so energetically in favor of Italian
federation, even though it should be at first only a federation of
monarchs. In vain was it objected that, in being established by France,
Italian unity would break European equilibrium in our favor. Proudhon,
appealing to history, showed that every State which breaks the equilibrium
in its own favor only causes the other States to combine against it, and
thereby diminishes its influence and power. He added that, nations being
essentially selfish, Italy would not fail, when opportunity offered, to
place her interest above her gratitude.

To maintain European equilibrium by diminishing great States and
multiplying small ones; to unite the latter in organized federations, not
for attack, but for defence; and with these federations, which, if they
were not republican already, would quickly become so, to hold in check the
great military monarchies,—such, in the beginning of 1861, was the
political programme of Proudhon.

The object of the federations, he said, will be to guarantee, as far as
possible, the beneficent reign of peace; and they will have the further
effect of securing in every nation the triumph of liberty over despotism.
Where the largest unitary State is, there liberty is in the greatest
danger; further, if this State be democratic, despotism without the
counterpoise of majorities is to be feared. With the federation, it is not
so. The universal suffrage of the federal State is checked by the
universal suffrage of the federated States; and the latter is offset in
its turn by PROPERTY, the stronghold of liberty, which it tends, not to
destroy, but to balance with the institutions of MUTUALISM.

All these ideas, and many others which were only hinted at in his work on
“War and Peace,” were developed by Proudhon in his subsequent
publications, one of which has for its motto, “Reforms always, Utopias
never.” The thinker had evidently finished his evolution.

The Council of State of the canton of Vaud having offered prizes for
essays on the question of taxation, previously discussed at a congress
held at Lausanne, Proudhon entered the ranks and carried off the first
prize. His memoir was published in 1861 under the title of “The Theory of
Taxation.”

About the same time, he wrote at Brussels, in “L’Office de Publicite,”
some remarkable articles on the question of literary property, which was
discussed at a congress held in Belgium, These articles must not be
confounded with “Literary Majorats,” a more complete work on the same
subject, which was published in 1863, soon after his return to France.

Arbitrarily excepted from the amnesty in 1859, Proudhon was pardoned two
years later by a special act. He did not wish to take advantage of this
favor, and seemed resolved to remain in Belgium until the 2d of June,
1863, the time when he was to acquire the privilege of prescription, when
an absurd and ridiculous riot, excited in Brussels by an article published
by him on federation and unity in Italy, induced him to hasten his return
to France. Stones were thrown against the house in which he lived, in the
Faubourg d’Ixelles. After having placed his wife and daughters in safety
among his friends at Brussels, he arrived in Paris in September, 1862, and
published there, “Federation and Italian Unity,” a pamphlet which
naturally commences with the article which served as a pretext for the
rioters in Brussels.

Among the works begun by Proudhon while in Belgium, which death did not
allow him to finish, we ought to mention a “History of Poland,” which will
be published later; and, “The Theory of Property,” which appeared in 1865,
before “The Gospels Annotated,” and after the volume entitled “The
Principle of Art and its Social Destiny.”

The publications of Proudhon, in 1863, were: 1. “Literary Majorats: An
Examination of a Bill having for its object the Creation of a Perpetual
Monopoly for the Benefit of Authors, Inventors, and Artists;” 2. “The
Federative Principle and the Necessity of Re-establishing the
Revolutionary party;” 3. “The Sworn Democrats and the Refractories;” 4.
“Whether the Treaties of 1815 have ceased to exist? Acts of the Future
Congress.”

The disease which was destined to kill him grew worse and worse; but
Proudhon labored constantly!… A series of articles, published in 1864 in
“Le Messager de Paris,” have been collected in a pamphlet under the title
of “New Observations on Italian Unity.” He hoped to publish during the
same year his work on “The Political Capacity of the Working Classes,” but
was unable to write the last chapter…. He grew weaker continually. His
doctor prescribed rest. In the month of August he went to Franche-Comte,
where he spent a month. Having returned to Paris, he resumed his labor
with difficulty…. From the month of December onwards, the heart disease
made rapid progress; the oppression became insupportable, his legs were
swollen, and he could not sleep….

On the 19th of January, 1865, he died, towards two o’clock in the morning,
in the arms of his wife, his sister-in-law, and the friend who writes
these lines….

The publication of his correspondence, to which his daughter Catherine is
faithfully devoted, will tend, no doubt, to increase his reputation as a
thinker, as a writer, and as an honest man.

J. A. LANGLOIS.

PREFACE.

The following letter served as a preface to the first edition of this
memoir:—

“To the Members of the Academy of Besancon

“PARIS, June 30, 1840.

“GENTLEMEN,—In the course of your debate of the 9th of May, 1833, in
regard to the triennial pension established by Madame Suard, you expressed
the following wish:—

“‘The Academy requests the titulary to present it annually, during the
first fortnight in July, with a succinct and logical statement of the
various studies which he has pursued during the year which has just
expired.’

“I now propose, gentlemen, to discharge this duty.

“When I solicited your votes, I boldly avowed my intention to bend my
efforts to the discovery of some means of AMELIORATING THE PHYSICAL,
MORAL, AND INTELLECTUAL CONDITION OF THE MERE NUMEROUS AND POORER CLASSES.
This idea, foreign as it may have seemed to the object of my candidacy,
you received favorably; and, by the precious distinction with which it has
been your pleasure to honor me, you changed this formal offer into an
inviolable and sacred obligation. Thenceforth I understood with how worthy
and honorable a society I had to deal: my regard for its enlightenment, my
recognition of its benefits, my enthusiasm for its glory, were unbounded.

“Convinced at once that, in order to break loose from the beaten paths of
opinions and systems, it was necessary to proceed in my study of man and
society by scientific methods, and in a rigorous manner, I devoted one
year to philology and grammar; linguistics, or the natural history of
speech, being, of all the sciences, that which was best suited to the
character of my mind, seemed to bear the closest relation to the
researches which I was about to commence. A treatise, written at this
period upon one of the most interesting questions of comparative grammar,2
if it did not reveal the astonishing success, at least bore witness to the
thoroughness, of my labors.

“Since that time, metaphysics and moral science have been my only studies;
my perception of the fact that these sciences, though badly defined as to
their object and not confined to their sphere, are, like the natural
sciences, susceptible of demonstration and certainty, has already rewarded
my efforts.

“But, gentlemen, of all the masters whom I have followed, to none do I owe
so much as to you. Your co-operation, your programmes, your instructions,
in agreement with my secret wishes and most cherished hopes, have at no
time failed to enlighten me and to point out my road; this memoir on
property is the child of your thought.

“In 1838, the Academy of Besancon proposed the following question: TO WHAT
CAUSES MUST WE ATTRIBUTE THE CONTINUALLY INCREASING NUMBER OF SUICIDES,
AND WHAT ARE THE PROPER MEANS FOR ARRESTING THE EFFECTS OF THIS MORAL
CONTAGION?

“Thereby it asked, in less general terms, what was the cause of the social
evil, and what was its remedy? You admitted that yourselves, gentlemen
when your committee reported that the competitors had enumerated with
exactness the immediate and particular causes of suicide, as well as the
means of preventing each of them; but that from this enumeration,
chronicled with more or less skill, no positive information had been
gained, either as to the primary cause of the evil, or as to its remedy.

“In 1839, your programme, always original and varied in its academical
expression, became more exact. The investigations of 1838 had pointed out,
as the causes or rather as the symptoms of the social malady, the neglect
of the principles of religion and morality, the desire for wealth, the
passion for enjoyment, and political disturbances. All these data were
embodied by you in a single proposition: THE UTILITY OF THE CELEBRATION
OF SUNDAY AS REGARDS HYGIENE, MORALITY, AND SOCIAL AND POLITICAL RELATION.

“In a Christian tongue you asked, gentlemen, what was the true system of
society. A competitor 3 dared to maintain, and believed
that he had proved, that the institution of a day of rest at weekly
intervals is inseparably bound up with a political system based on the
equality of conditions; that without equality this institution is an
anomaly and an impossibility: that equality alone can revive this ancient
and mysterious keeping of the seventh day. This argument did not meet with
your approbation, since, without denying the relation pointed out by the
competitor, you judged, and rightly gentlemen, that the principle of
equality of conditions not being demonstrated, the ideas of the author
were nothing more than hypotheses.

“Finally, gentlemen, this fundamental principle of equality you presented
for competition in the following terms: THE ECONOMICAL AND MORAL
CONSEQUENCES IN FRANCE UP TO THE PRESENT TIME, AND THOSE WHICH SEEM LIKELY
TO APPEAR IN FUTURE, OF THE LAW CONCERNING THE EQUAL DIVISION OF
HEREDITARY PROPERTY BETWEEN THE CHILDREN.

“Instead of confining one to common places without breadth or
significance, it seems to me that your question should be developed as
follows:—

“If the law has been able to render the right of heredity common to all
the children of one father, can it not render it equal for all his
grandchildren and great-grandchildren?

“If the law no longer heeds the age of any member of the family, can it
not, by the right of heredity, cease to heed it in the race, in the tribe,
in the nation?

“Can equality, by the right of succession, be preserved between citizens,
as well as between cousins and brothers? In a word, can the principle of
succession become a principle of equality?

“To sum up all these ideas in one inclusive question: What is the
principle of heredity? What are the foundations of inequality? What is
property?

“Such, gentlemen, is the object of the memoir that I offer you to day.

“If I have rightly grasped the object of your thought; if I succeed in
bringing to light a truth which is indisputable, but, from causes which I
am bold enough to claim to have explained, has always been misunderstood;
if by an infallible method of investigation, I establish the dogma of
equality of conditions; if I determine the principle of civil law, the
essence of justice, and the form of society; if I annihilate property
forever,—to you, gentlemen, will redound all the glory, for it is to
your aid and your inspiration that I owe it.

“My purpose in this work is the application of method to the problems of
philosophy; every other intention is foreign to and even abusive of it.

“I have spoken lightly of jurisprudence: I had the right; but I should be
unjust did I not distinguish between this pretended science and the men
who practise it. Devoted to studies both laborious and severe, entitled in
all respects to the esteem of their fellow-citizens by their knowledge and
eloquence our legists deserve but one reproach, that of an excessive
deference to arbitrary laws.

“I have been pitiless in my criticism of the economists: for them I
confess that, in general, I have no liking. The arrogance and the
emptiness of their writings, their impertinent pride and their unwarranted
blunders, have disgusted me. Whoever, knowing them, pardons them, may read
them.

“I have severely blamed the learned Christian Church: it was my duty. This
blame results from the facts which I call attention to: why has the Church
decreed concerning things which it does not understand? The Church has
erred in dogma and in morals; physics and mathematics testify against her.
It may be wrong for me to say it, but surely it is unfortunate for
Christianity that it is true. To restore religion, gentlemen, it is
necessary to condemn the Church.

“Perhaps you will regret, gentlemen, that, in giving all my attention to
method and evidence, I have too much neglected form and style: in vain
should I have tried to do better. Literary hope and faith I have none. The
nineteenth century is, in my eyes, a genesic era, in which new principles
are elaborated, but in which nothing that is written shall endure. That is
the reason, in my opinion, why, among so many men of talent, France to-day
counts not one great writer. In a society like ours, to seek for literary
glory seems to me an anachronism. Of what use is it to invoke an ancient
sibyl when a muse is on the eve of birth? Pitiable actors in a tragedy
nearing its end, that which it behooves us to do is to precipitate the
catastrophe. The most deserving among us is he who plays best this part.
Well, I no longer aspire to this sad success!

“Why should I not confess it, gentlemen? I have aspired to your suffrages
and sought the title of your pensioner, hating all which exists and full
of projects for its destruction; I shall finish this investigation in a
spirit of calm and philosophical resignation. I have derived more peace
from the knowledge of the truth, than anger from the feeling of
oppression; and the most precious fruit that I could wish to gather from
this memoir would be the inspiration of my readers with that tranquillity
of soul which arises from the clear perception of evil and its cause, and
which is much more powerful than passion and enthusiasm. My hatred of
privilege and human authority was unbounded; perhaps at times I have been
guilty, in my indignation, of confounding persons and things; at present I
can only despise and complain; to cease to hate I only needed to know.

“It is for you now, gentlemen, whose mission and character are the
proclamation of the truth, it is for you to instruct the people, and to
tell them for what they ought to hope and what they ought to fear. The
people, incapable as yet of sound judgment as to what is best for them,
applaud indiscriminately the most opposite ideas, provided that in them
they get a taste of flattery: to them the laws of thought are like the
confines of the possible; to-day they can no more distinguish between a
savant and a sophist, than formerly they could tell a physician from a
sorcerer. ‘Inconsiderately accepting, gathering together, and accumulating
everything that is new, regarding all reports as true and indubitable, at
the breath or ring of novelty they assemble like bees at the sound of a
basin.’ 4

“May you, gentlemen, desire equality as I myself desire it; may you, for
the eternal happiness of our country, become its propagators and its
heralds; may I be the last of your pensioners! Of all the wishes that I
can frame, that, gentlemen, is the most worthy of you and the most
honorable for me.

“I am, with the profoundest respect and the most earnest gratitude,

“Your pensioner,

“P. J. PROUDHON.”

Two months after the receipt of this letter, the Academy, in its debate of
August 24th, replied to the address of its pensioner by a note, the text
of which I give below:—

“A member calls the attention of the Academy to a pamphlet, published last
June by the titulary of the Suard pension, entitled, “What is property?”
and dedicated by the author to the Academy. He is of the opinion that the
society owes it to justice, to example, and to its own dignity, to
publicly disavow all responsibility for the anti-social doctrines
contained in this publication. In consequence he demands:

“1. That the Academy disavow and condemn, in the most formal manner, the
work of the Suard pensioner, as having been published without its assent,
and as attributing to it opinions diametrically opposed to the principles
of each of its members;

“2. That the pensioner be charged, in case he should publish a second
edition of his book, to omit the dedication;

“3. That this judgment of the Academy be placed upon the records.

“These three propositions, put to vote, are adopted.”

After this ludicrous decree, which its authors thought to render powerful
by giving it the form of a contradiction, I can only beg the reader not to
measure the intelligence of my compatriots by that of our Academy.

While my patrons in the social and political sciences were fulminating
anathemas against my brochure, a man, who was a stranger to Franche-Comte,
who did not know me, who might even have regarded himself as personally
attacked by the too sharp judgment which I had passed upon the economists,
a publicist as learned as he was modest, loved by the people whose sorrows
he felt, honored by the power which he sought to enlighten without
flattering or disgracing it, M. Blanqui—member of the Institute,
professor of political economy, defender of property—took up my
defence before his associates and before the ministry, and saved me from
the blows of a justice which is always blind, because it is always
ignorant.

It seems to me that the reader will peruse with pleasure the letter which
M. Blanqui did me the honor to write to me upon the publication of my
second memoir, a letter as honorable to its author as it is flattering to
him to whom it is addressed.

“PARIS, May 1, 1841.

“MONSIEUR,—I hasten to thank you for forwarding to me your second
memoir upon property. I have read it with all the interest that an
acquaintance with the first would naturally inspire. I am very glad that
you have modified somewhat the rudeness of form which gave to a work of
such gravity the manner and appearance of a pamphlet; for you quite
frightened me, sir, and your talent was needed to reassure me in regard to
your intentions. One does not expend so much real knowledge with the
purpose of inflaming his country. This proposition, now coming into notice—PROPERTY
IS ROBBERY!—was of a nature to repel from your book even those
serious minds who do not judge by appearances, had you persisted in
maintaining it in its rude simplicity. But if you have softened the form,
you are none the less faithful to the ground-work of your doctrines; and
although you have done me the honor to give me a share in this perilous
teaching, I cannot accept a partnership which, as far as talent goes,
would surely be a credit to me, but which would compromise me in all other
respects.

“I agree with you in one thing only; namely, that all kinds of property
get too frequently abused in this world. But I do not reason from the
abuse to the abolition,—an heroic remedy too much like death, which
cures all evils. I will go farther: I will confess that, of all abuses,
the most hateful to me are those of property; but once more, there is a
remedy for this evil without violating it, all the more without destroying
it. If the present laws allow abuse, we can reconstruct them. Our civil
code is not the Koran; it is not wrong to examine it. Change, then, the
laws which govern the use of property, but be sparing of anathemas; for,
logically, where is the honest man whose hands are entirely clean? Do you
think that one can be a robber without knowing it, without wishing it,
without suspecting it? Do you not admit that society in its present state,
like every man, has in its constitution all kinds of virtues and vices
inherited from our ancestors? Is property, then, in your eyes a thing so
simple and so abstract that you can re-knead and equalize it, if I may so
speak, in your metaphysical mill? One who has said as many excellent and
practical things as occur in these two beautiful and paradoxical
improvisations of yours cannot be a pure and unwavering utopist. You are
too well acquainted with the economical and academical phraseology to play
with the hard words of revolutions. I believe, then, that you have handled
property as Rousseau, eighty years ago, handled letters, with a
magnificent and poetical display of wit and knowledge. Such, at least, is
my opinion.

“That is what I said to the Institute at the time when I presented my
report upon your book. I knew that they wished to proceed against you in
the courts; you perhaps do not know by how narrow a chance I succeeded in
preventing them. 5 What chagrin I should always have
felt, if the king’s counsel, that is to say, the intellectual executioner,
had followed in my very tracks to attack your book and annoy your person!
I actually passed two terrible nights, and I succeeded in restraining the
secular arm only by showing that your book was an academical dissertation,
and not the manifesto of an incendiary. Your style is too lofty ever to be
of service to the madmen who in discussing the gravest questions of our
social order, use paving-stones as their weapons. But see to it, sir, that
ere long they do not come, in spite of you, to seek for ammunition in this
formidable arsenal, and that your vigorous metaphysics falls not into the
hands of some sophist of the market-place, who might discuss the question
in the presence of a starving audience: we should have pillage for
conclusion and peroration.

“I feel as deeply as you, sir, the abuses which you point out; but I have
so great an affection for order,—not that common and strait-laced
order with which the police are satisfied, but the majestic and imposing
order of human societies,—that I sometimes find myself embarrassed
in attacking certain abuses. I like to rebuild with one hand when I am
compelled to destroy with the other. In pruning an old tree, we guard
against destruction of the buds and fruit. You know that as well as any
one. You are a wise and learned man; you have a thoughtful mind. The terms
by which you characterize the fanatics of our day are strong enough to
reassure the most suspicious imaginations as to your intentions; but you
conclude in favor of the abolition of property! You wish to abolish the
most powerful motor of the human mind; you attack the paternal sentiment
in its sweetest illusions; with one word you arrest the formation of
capital, and we build henceforth upon the sand instead of on a rock. That
I cannot agree to; and for that reason I have criticised your book, so
full of beautiful pages, so brilliant with knowledge and fervor!

“I wish, sir, that my impaired health would permit me to examine with you,
page by page, the memoir which you have done me the honor to address to me
publicly and personally; I think I could offer some important criticisms.
For the moment, I must content myself with thanking you for the kind words
in which you have seen fit to speak of me. We each possess the merit of
sincerity; I desire also the merit of prudence. You know how deep-seated
is the disease under which the working-people are suffering; I know how
many noble hearts beat under those rude garments, and I feel an
irresistible and fraternal sympathy with the thousands of brave people who
rise early in the morning to labor, to pay their taxes, and to make our
country strong. I try to serve and enlighten them, whereas some endeavor
to mislead them. You have not written directly for them. You have issued
two magnificent manifestoes, the second more guarded than the first; issue
a third more guarded than the second, and you will take high rank in
science, whose first precept is calmness and impartiality.

“Farewell, sir! No man’s esteem for another can exceed mine for you.

“BLANQUI.”

I should certainly take some exceptions to this noble and eloquent letter;
but I confess that I am more inclined to realize the prediction with which
it terminates than to augment needlessly the number of my antagonists. So
much controversy fatigues and wearies me. The intelligence expended in the
warfare of words is like that employed in battle: it is intelligence
wasted. M. Blanqui acknowledges that property is abused in many harmful
ways; I call PROPERTY the sum these abuses exclusively. To each of us
property seems a polygon whose angles need knocking off; but, the
operation performed, M. Blanqui maintains that the figure will still be a
polygon (an hypothesis admitted in mathematics, although not proven),
while I consider that this figure will be a circle. Honest people can at
least understand one another.

For the rest, I allow that, in the present state of the question, the mind
may legitimately hesitate before deciding in favor of the abolition of
property. To gain the victory for one’s cause, it does not suffice simply
to overthrow a principle generally recognized, which has the indisputable
merit of systematically recapitulating our political theories; it is also
necessary to establish the opposite principle, and to formulate the system
which must proceed from it. Still further, it is necessary to show the
method by which the new system will satisfy all the moral and political
needs which induced the establishment of the first. On the following
conditions, then, of subsequent evidence, depends the correctness of my
preceding arguments:—

The discovery of a system of absolute equality in which all existing
institutions, save property, or the sum of the abuses of property, not
only may find a place, but may themselves serve as instruments of
equality: individual liberty, the division of power, the public ministry,
the jury system, administrative and judicial organization, the unity and
completeness of instruction, marriage, the family, heredity in direct and
collateral succession, the right of sale and exchange, the right to make a
will, and even birthright,—a system which, better than property,
guarantees the formation of capital and keeps up the courage of all;
which, from a superior point of view, explains, corrects, and completes
the theories of association hitherto proposed, from Plato and Pythagoras
to Babeuf, Saint Simon, and Fourier; a system, finally, which, serving as
a means of transition, is immediately applicable.

A work so vast requires, I am aware, the united efforts of twenty
Montesquieus; nevertheless, if it is not given to a single man to finish,
a single one can commence, the enterprise. The road that he shall traverse
will suffice to show the end and assure the result.

WHAT IS PROPERTY? OR,

AN INQUIRY INTO THE PRINCIPLE OF RIGHT AND OF GOVERNMENT.

FIRST MEMOIR.

CHAPTER I. METHOD PURSUED IN THIS WORK.—THE IDEA OF A REVOLUTION.

If I were asked to answer the following question: WHAT IS SLAVERY? and I
should answer in one word, IT IS MURDER, my meaning would be understood at
once. No extended argument would be required to show that the power to
take from a man his thought, his will, his personality, is a power of life
and death; and that to enslave a man is to kill him. Why, then, to this
other question: WHAT IS PROPERTY! may I not likewise answer, IT IS
ROBBERY, without the certainty of being misunderstood; the second
proposition being no other than a transformation of the first?

I undertake to discuss the vital principle of our government and our
institutions, property: I am in my right. I may be mistaken in the
conclusion which shall result from my investigations: I am in my right. I
think best to place the last thought of my book first: still am I in my
right.

Such an author teaches that property is a civil right, born of occupation
and sanctioned by law; another maintains that it is a natural right,
originating in labor,—and both of these doctrines, totally opposed
as they may seem, are encouraged and applauded. I contend that neither
labor, nor occupation, nor law, can create property; that it is an effect
without a cause: am I censurable?

But murmurs arise!

PROPERTY IS ROBBERY! That is the war-cry of ’93! That is the signal of
revolutions!

Reader, calm yourself: I am no agent of discord, no firebrand of sedition.
I anticipate history by a few days; I disclose a truth whose development
we may try in vain to arrest; I write the preamble of our future
constitution. This proposition which seems to you blasphemous—PROPERTY
IS ROBBERY—would, if our prejudices allowed us to consider it, be
recognized as the lightning-rod to shield us from the coming thunderbolt;
but too many interests stand in the way!… Alas! philosophy will not
change the course of events: destiny will fulfill itself regardless of
prophecy. Besides, must not justice be done and our education be finished?

PROPERTY IS ROBBERY!… What a revolution in human ideas! PROPRIETOR and
ROBBER have been at all times expressions as contradictory as the beings
whom they designate are hostile; all languages have perpetuated this
opposition. On what authority, then, do you venture to attack universal
consent, and give the lie to the human race? Who are you, that you should
question the judgment of the nations and the ages?

Of what consequence to you, reader, is my obscure individuality? I live,
like you, in a century in which reason submits only to fact and to
evidence. My name, like yours, is TRUTH-SEEKER. 6 My mission is
written in these words of the law: SPEAK WITHOUT HATRED AND WITHOUT FEAR;
TELL THAT WHICH THOU KNOWEST! The work of our race is to build the temple
of science, and this science includes man and Nature. Now, truth reveals
itself to all; to-day to Newton and Pascal, tomorrow to the herdsman in
the valley and the journeyman in the shop. Each one contributes his stone
to the edifice; and, his task accomplished, disappears. Eternity precedes
us, eternity follows us: between two infinites, of what account is one
poor mortal that the century should inquire about him?

Disregard then, reader, my title and my character, and attend only to my
arguments. It is in accordance with universal consent that I undertake to
correct universal error; from the OPINION of the human race I appeal to
its FAITH. Have the courage to follow me; and, if your will is
untrammelled, if your conscience is free, if your mind can unite two
propositions and deduce a third therefrom, my ideas will inevitably become
yours. In beginning by giving you my last word, it was my purpose to warn
you, not to defy you; for I am certain that, if you read me, you will be
compelled to assent. The things of which I am to speak are so simple and
clear that you will be astonished at not having perceived them before, and
you will say: “I have neglected to think.” Others offer you the spectacle
of genius wresting Nature’s secrets from her, and unfolding before you her
sublime messages; you will find here only a series of experiments upon
JUSTICE and RIGHT a sort of verification of the weights and measures of
your conscience. The operations shall be conducted under your very eyes;
and you shall weigh the result.

Nevertheless, I build no system. I ask an end to privilege, the abolition
of slavery, equality of rights, and the reign of law. Justice, nothing
else; that is the alpha and omega of my argument: to others I leave the
business of governing the world.

One day I asked myself: Why is there so much sorrow and misery in society?
Must man always be wretched? And not satisfied with the explanations given
by the reformers,—these attributing the general distress to
governmental cowardice and incapacity, those to conspirators and emeutes,
still others to ignorance and general corruption,—and weary of the
interminable quarrels of the tribune and the press, I sought to fathom the
matter myself. I have consulted the masters of science; I have read a
hundred volumes of philosophy, law, political economy, and history: would
to God that I had lived in a century in which so much reading had been
useless! I have made every effort to obtain exact information, comparing
doctrines, replying to objections, continually constructing equations and
reductions from arguments, and weighing thousands of syllogisms in the
scales of the most rigorous logic. In this laborious work, I have
collected many interesting facts which I shall share with my friends and
the public as soon as I have leisure. But I must say that I recognized at
once that we had never understood the meaning of these words, so common
and yet so sacred: JUSTICE, EQUITY, LIBERTY; that concerning each of these
principles our ideas have been utterly obscure; and, in fact, that this
ignorance was the sole cause, both of the poverty that devours us, and of
all the calamities that have ever afflicted the human race.

My mind was frightened by this strange result: I doubted my reason. What!
said I, that which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor insight
penetrated, you have discovered! Wretch, mistake not the visions of your
diseased brain for the truths of science! Do you not know (great
philosophers have said so) that in points of practical morality universal
error is a contradiction?

I resolved then to test my arguments; and in entering upon this new labor
I sought an answer to the following questions: Is it possible that
humanity can have been so long and so universally mistaken in the
application of moral principles? How and why could it be mistaken? How can
its error, being universal, be capable of correction?

These questions, on the solution of which depended the certainty of my
conclusions, offered no lengthy resistance to analysis. It will be seen,
in chapter V. of this work, that in morals, as in all other branches of
knowledge, the gravest errors are the dogmas of science; that, even in
works of justice, to be mistaken is a privilege which ennobles man; and
that whatever philosophical merit may attach to me is infinitely small. To
name a thing is easy: the difficulty is to discern it before its
appearance. In giving expression to the last stage of an idea,—an
idea which permeates all minds, which to-morrow will be proclaimed by
another if I fail to announce it to-day,—I can claim no merit save
that of priority of utterance. Do we eulogize the man who first perceives
the dawn?

Yes: all men believe and repeat that equality of conditions is identical
with equality of rights; that PROPERTY and ROBBERY are synonymous terms;
that every social advantage accorded, or rather usurped, in the name of
superior talent or service, is iniquity and extortion. All men in their
hearts, I say, bear witness to these truths; they need only to be made to
understand it.

Before entering directly upon the question before me, I must say a word of
the road that I shall traverse. When Pascal approached a geometrical
problem, he invented a method of solution; to solve a problem in
philosophy a method is equally necessary. Well, by how much do the
problems of which philosophy treats surpass in the gravity of their
results those discussed by geometry! How much more imperatively, then, do
they demand for their solution a profound and rigorous analysis!

It is a fact placed for ever beyond doubt, say the modern psychologists,
that every perception received by the mind is determined by certain
general laws which govern the mind; is moulded, so to speak, in certain
types pre-existing in our understanding, and which constitutes its
original condition. Hence, say they, if the mind has no innate IDEAS, it
has at least innate FORMS. Thus, for example, every phenomenon is of
necessity conceived by us as happening in TIME and SPACE,—that
compels us to infer a CAUSE of its occurrence; every thing which exists
implies the ideas of SUBSTANCE, MODE, RELATION, NUMBER, &C.; in a
word, we form no idea which is not related to some one of the general
principles of reason, independent of which nothing exists.

These axioms of the understanding, add the psychologists, these
fundamental types, by which all our judgments and ideas are inevitably
shaped, and which our sensations serve only to illuminate, are known in
the schools as CATEGORIES. Their primordial existence in the mind is
to-day demonstrated; they need only to be systematized and catalogued.
Aristotle recognized ten; Kant increased the number to fifteen; M. Cousin
has reduced it to three, to two, to one; and the indisputable glory of
this professor will be due to the fact that, if he has not discovered the
true theory of categories, he has, at least, seen more clearly than any
one else the vast importance of this question,—the greatest and
perhaps the only one with which metaphysics has to deal.

I confess that I disbelieve in the innateness, not only of IDEAS, but also
of FORMS or LAWS of our understanding; and I hold the metaphysics of Reid
and Kant to be still farther removed from the truth than that of
Aristotle. However, as I do not wish to enter here into a discussion of
the mind, a task which would demand much labor and be of no interest to
the public, I shall admit the hypothesis that our most general and most
necessary ideas—such as time, space, substance, and cause—exist
originally in the mind; or, at least, are derived immediately from its
constitution.

But it is a psychological fact none the less true, and one to which the
philosophers have paid too little attention, that habit, like a second
nature, has the power of fixing in the mind new categorical forms derived
from the appearances which impress us, and by them usually stripped of
objective reality, but whose influence over our judgments is no less
predetermining than that of the original categories. Hence we reason by
the ETERNAL and ABSOLUTE laws of our mind, and at the same time by the
secondary rules, ordinarily faulty, which are suggested to us by imperfect
observation. This is the most fecund source of false prejudices, and the
permanent and often invincible cause of a multitude of errors. The bias
resulting from these prejudices is so strong that often, even when we are
fighting against a principle which our mind thinks false, which is
repugnant to our reason, and which our conscience disapproves, we defend
it without knowing it, we reason in accordance with it, and we obey it
while attacking it. Enclosed within a circle, our mind revolves about
itself, until a new observation, creating within us new ideas, brings to
view an external principle which delivers us from the phantom by which our
imagination is possessed.

Thus, we know to-day that, by the laws of a universal magnetism whose
cause is still unknown, two bodies (no obstacle intervening) tend to unite
by an accelerated impelling force which we call GRAVITATION. It is
gravitation which causes unsupported bodies to fall to the ground, which
gives them weight, and which fastens us to the earth on which we live.
Ignorance of this cause was the sole obstacle which prevented the ancients
from believing in the antipodes. “Can you not see,” said St. Augustine
after Lactantius, “that, if there were men under our feet, their heads
would point downward, and that they would fall into the sky?” The bishop
of Hippo, who thought the earth flat because it appeared so to the eye,
supposed in consequence that, if we should connect by straight lines the
zenith with the nadir in different places, these lines would be parallel
with each other; and in the direction of these lines he traced every
movement from above to below. Thence he naturally concluded that the stars
were rolling torches set in the vault of the sky; that, if left to
themselves, they would fall to the earth in a shower of fire; that the
earth was one vast plain, forming the lower portion of the world, &c.
If he had been asked by what the world itself was sustained, he would have
answered that he did not know, but that to God nothing is impossible. Such
were the ideas of St. Augustine in regard to space and movement, ideas
fixed within him by a prejudice derived from an appearance, and which had
become with him a general and categorical rule of judgment. Of the reason
why bodies fall his mind knew nothing; he could only say that a body falls
because it falls.

With us the idea of a fall is more complex: to the general ideas of space
and movement which it implies, we add that of attraction or direction
towards a centre, which gives us the higher idea of cause. But if physics
has fully corrected our judgment in this respect, we still make use of the
prejudice of St. Augustine; and when we say that a thing has FALLEN, we do
not mean simply and in general that there has been an effect of
gravitation, but specially and in particular that it is towards the earth,
and FROM ABOVE TO BELOW, that this movement has taken place. Our mind is
enlightened in vain; the imagination prevails, and our language remains
forever incorrigible. To DESCEND FROM HEAVEN is as incorrect an expression
as to MOUNT TO HEAVEN; and yet this expression will live as long as men
use language.

All these phrases—FROM ABOVE TO BELOW; TO DESCEND FROM HEAVEN; TO
FALL FROM THE CLOUDS, &C.—are henceforth harmless, because we
know how to rectify them in practice; but let us deign to consider for a
moment how much they have retarded the progress of science. If, indeed, it
be a matter of little importance to statistics, mechanics, hydrodynamics,
and ballistics, that the true cause of the fall of bodies should be known,
and that our ideas of the general movements in space should be exact, it
is quite otherwise when we undertake to explain the system of the
universe, the cause of tides, the shape of the earth, and its position in
the heavens: to understand these things we must leave the circle of
appearances. In all ages there have been ingenious mechanicians, excellent
architects, skilful artillerymen: any error, into which it was possible
for them to fall in regard to the rotundity of the earth and gravitation,
in no wise retarded the development of their art; the solidity of their
buildings and accuracy of their aim was not affected by it. But sooner or
later they were forced to grapple with phenomena, which the supposed
parallelism of all perpendiculars erected from the earth’s surface
rendered inexplicable: then also commenced a struggle between the
prejudices, which for centuries had sufficed in daily practice, and the
unprecedented opinions which the testimony of the eyes seemed to
contradict.

Thus, on the one hand, the falsest judgments, whether based on isolated
facts or only on appearances, always embrace some truths whose sphere,
whether large or small, affords room for a certain number of inferences,
beyond which we fall into absurdity. The ideas of St. Augustine, for
example, contained the following truths: that bodies fall towards the
earth, that they fall in a straight line, that either the sun or the earth
moves, that either the sky or the earth turns, &c. These general facts
always have been true; our science has added nothing to them. But, on the
other hand, it being necessary to account for every thing, we are obliged
to seek for principles more and more comprehensive: that is why we have
had to abandon successively, first the opinion that the world was flat,
then the theory which regards it as the stationary centre of the universe,
&c.

If we pass now from physical nature to the moral world, we still find
ourselves subject to the same deceptions of appearance, to the same
influences of spontaneity and habit. But the distinguishing feature of
this second division of our knowledge is, on the one hand, the good or the
evil which we derive from our opinions; and, on the other, the obstinacy
with which we defend the prejudice which is tormenting and killing us.

Whatever theory we embrace in regard to the shape of the earth and the
cause of its weight, the physics of the globe does not suffer; and, as for
us, our social economy can derive therefrom neither profit nor damage. But
it is in us and through us that the laws of our moral nature work; now,
these laws cannot be executed without our deliberate aid, and,
consequently, unless we know them. If, then, our science of moral laws is
false, it is evident that, while desiring our own good, we are
accomplishing our own evil; if it is only incomplete, it may suffice for a
time for our social progress, but in the long run it will lead us into a
wrong road, and will finally precipitate us into an abyss of calamities.

Then it is that we need to exercise our highest judgments; and, be it said
to our glory, they are never found wanting: but then also commences a
furious struggle between old prejudices and new ideas. Days of
conflagration and anguish! We are told of the time when, with the same
beliefs, with the same institutions, all the world seemed happy: why
complain of these beliefs; why banish these institutions? We are slow to
admit that that happy age served the precise purpose of developing the
principle of evil which lay dormant in society; we accuse men and gods,
the powers of earth and the forces of Nature. Instead of seeking the cause
of the evil in his mind and heart, man blames his masters, his rivals, his
neighbors, and himself; nations arm themselves, and slay and exterminate
each other, until equilibrium is restored by the vast depopulation, and
peace again arises from the ashes of the combatants. So loath is humanity
to touch the customs of its ancestors, and to change the laws framed by
the founders of communities, and confirmed by the faithful observance of
the ages.

Nihil motum ex antiquo probabile est: Distrust all innovations,
wrote Titus Livius. Undoubtedly it would be better were man not compelled
to change: but what! because he is born ignorant, because he exists only
on condition of gradual self-instruction, must he abjure the light,
abdicate his reason, and abandon himself to fortune? Perfect health is
better than convalescence: should the sick man, therefore, refuse to be
cured? Reform, reform! cried, ages since, John the Baptist and Jesus
Christ. Reform, reform! cried our fathers, fifty years ago; and for a long
time to come we shall shout, Reform, reform!

Seeing the misery of my age, I said to myself: Among the principles that
support society, there is one which it does not understand, which its
ignorance has vitiated, and which causes all the evil that exists. This
principle is the most ancient of all; for it is a characteristic of
revolutions to tear down the most modern principles, and to respect those
of long-standing. Now the evil by which we suffer is anterior to all
revolutions. This principle, impaired by our ignorance, is honored and
cherished; for if it were not cherished it would harm nobody, it would be
without influence.

But this principle, right in its purpose, but misunderstood: this
principle, as old as humanity, what is it? Can it be religion?

All men believe in God: this dogma belongs at once to their conscience and
their mind. To humanity God is a fact as primitive, an idea as inevitable,
a principle as necessary as are the categorical ideas of cause, substance,
time, and space to our understanding. God is proven to us by the
conscience prior to any inference of the mind; just as the sun is proven
to us by the testimony of the senses prior to all the arguments of
physics. We discover phenomena and laws by observation and experience;
only this deeper sense reveals to us existence. Humanity believes that God
is; but, in believing in God, what does it believe? In a word, what is
God?

The nature of this notion of Divinity,—this primitive, universal
notion, born in the race,—the human mind has not yet fathomed. At
each step that we take in our investigation of Nature and of causes, the
idea of God is extended and exalted; the farther science advances, the
more God seems to grow and broaden. Anthropomorphism and idolatry
constituted of necessity the faith of the mind in its youth, the theology
of infancy and poesy. A harmless error, if they had not endeavored to make
it a rule of conduct, and if they had been wise enough to respect the
liberty of thought. But having made God in his own image, man wished to
appropriate him still farther; not satisfied with disfiguring the
Almighty, he treated him as his patrimony, his goods, his possessions.
God, pictured in monstrous forms, became throughout the world the property
of man and of the State. Such was the origin of the corruption of morals
by religion, and the source of pious feuds and holy wars. Thank Heaven! we
have learned to allow every one his own beliefs; we seek for moral laws
outside the pale of religion. Instead of legislating as to the nature and
attributes of God, the dogmas of theology, and the destiny of our souls,
we wisely wait for science to tell us what to reject and what to accept.
God, soul, religion,—eternal objects of our unwearied thought and
our most fatal aberrations, terrible problems whose solution, for ever
attempted, for ever remains unaccomplished,—concerning all these
questions we may still be mistaken, but at least our error is harmless.
With liberty in religion, and the separation of the spiritual from the
temporal power, the influence of religious ideas upon the progress of
society is purely negative; no law, no political or civil institution
being founded on religion. Neglect of duties imposed by religion may
increase the general corruption, but it is not the primary cause; it is
only an auxiliary or result. It is universally admitted, and especially in
the matter which now engages our attention, that the cause of the
inequality of conditions among men—of pauperism, of universal
misery, and of governmental embarrassments—can no longer be traced
to religion: we must go farther back, and dig still deeper.

But what is there in man older and deeper than the religious sentiment?

There is man himself; that is, volition and conscience, free-will and law,
eternally antagonistic. Man is at war with himself: why?

“Man,” say the theologians, “transgressed in the beginning; our race is
guilty of an ancient offence. For this transgression humanity has fallen;
error and ignorance have become its sustenance. Read history, you will
find universal proof of this necessity for evil in the permanent misery of
nations. Man suffers and always will suffer; his disease is hereditary and
constitutional. Use palliatives, employ emollients; there is no remedy.”

Nor is this argument peculiar to the theologians; we find it expressed in
equivalent language in the philosophical writings of the materialists,
believers in infinite perfectibility. Destutt de Tracy teaches formally
that poverty, crime, and war are the inevitable conditions of our social
state; necessary evils, against which it would be folly to revolt. So,
call it NECESSITY OF EVIL or ORIGINAL DEPRAVITY, it is at bottom the same
philosophy.

“The first man transgressed.” If the votaries of the Bible interpreted it
faithfully, they would say: MAN ORIGINALLY TRANSGRESSED, that is, made a
mistake; for TO TRANSGRESS, TO FAIL, TO MAKE A MISTAKE, all mean the same
thing.

“The consequences of Adam’s transgression are inherited by the race; the
first is ignorance.” Truly, the race, like the individual, is born
ignorant; but, in regard to a multitude of questions, even in the moral
and political spheres, this ignorance of the race has been dispelled: who
says that it will not depart altogether? Mankind makes continual progress
toward truth, and light ever triumphs over darkness. Our disease is not,
then, absolutely incurable, and the theory of the theologians is worse
than inadequate; it is ridiculous, since it is reducible to this
tautology: “Man errs, because he errs.” While the true statement is this:
“Man errs, because he learns.”

Now, if man arrives at a knowledge of all that he needs to know, it is
reasonable to believe that, ceasing to err, he will cease to suffer.

But if we question the doctors as to this law, said to be engraved upon
the heart of man, we shall immediately see that they dispute about a
matter of which they know nothing; that, concerning the most important
questions, there are almost as many opinions as authors; that we find no
two agreeing as to the best form of government, the principle of
authority, and the nature of right; that all sail hap-hazard upon a
shoreless and bottomless sea, abandoned to the guidance of their private
opinions which they modestly take to be right reason. And, in view of this
medley of contradictory opinions, we say: “The object of our
investigations is the law, the determination of the social principle. Now,
the politicians, that is, the social scientists, do not understand each
other; then the error lies in themselves; and, as every error has a
reality for its object, we must look in their books to find the truth
which they have unconsciously deposited there.”

Now, of what do the lawyers and the publicists treat? Of JUSTICE, EQUITY,
LIBERTY, NATURAL LAW, CIVIL LAWS, &c. But what is justice? What is its
principle, its character, its formula? To this question our doctors
evidently have no reply; for otherwise their science, starting with a
principle clear and well defined, would quit the region of probabilities,
and all disputes would end.

What is justice? The theologians answer: “All justice comes from God.”
That is true; but we know no more than before.

The philosophers ought to be better informed: they have argued so much
about justice and injustice! Unhappily, an examination proves that their
knowledge amounts to nothing, and that with them—as with the savages
whose every prayer to the sun is simply O! O!—it is a cry of
admiration, love, and enthusiasm; but who does not know that the sun
attaches little meaning to the interjection O! That is exactly our
position toward the philosophers in regard to justice. Justice, they say,
is a DAUGHTER OF HEAVEN; A LIGHT WHICH ILLUMINES EVERY MAN THAT COMES INTO
THE WORLD; THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PREROGATIVE OF OUR NATURE; THAT WHICH
DISTINGUISHES US FROM THE BEASTS AND LIKENS US TO GOD—and a thousand
other similar things. What, I ask, does this pious litany amount to? To
the prayer of the savages: O!

All the most reasonable teachings of human wisdom concerning justice are
summed up in that famous adage: DO UNTO OTHERS THAT WHICH YOU WOULD THAT
OTHERS SHOULD DO UNTO YOU; DO NOT UNTO OTHERS THAT WHICH YOU WOULD NOT
THAT OTHERS SHOULD DO UNTO YOU. But this rule of moral practice is
unscientific: what have I a right to wish that others should do or not do
to me? It is of no use to tell me that my duty is equal to my right,
unless I am told at the same time what my right is.

Let us try to arrive at something more precise and positive.

Justice is the central star which governs societies, the pole around which
the political world revolves, the principle and the regulator of all
transactions. Nothing takes place between men save in the name of RIGHT;
nothing without the invocation of justice. Justice is not the work of the
law: on the contrary, the law is only a declaration and application of
JUSTICE in all circumstances where men are liable to come in contact. If,
then, the idea that we form of justice and right were ill-defined, if it
were imperfect or even false, it is clear that all our legislative
applications would be wrong, our institutions vicious, our politics
erroneous: consequently there would be disorder and social chaos.

This hypothesis of the perversion of justice in our minds, and, as a
necessary result, in our acts, becomes a demonstrated fact when it is
shown that the opinions of men have not borne a constant relation to the
notion of justice and its applications; that at different periods they
have undergone modifications: in a word, that there has been progress in
ideas. Now, that is what history proves by the most overwhelming
testimony.

Eighteen Hundred years ago, the world, under the rule of the Caesars,
exhausted itself in slavery, superstition, and voluptuousness. The people—intoxicated
and, as it were, stupefied by their long-continued orgies—had lost
the very notion of right and duty: war and dissipation by turns swept them
away; usury and the labor of machines (that is of slaves), by depriving
them of the means of subsistence, hindered them from continuing the
species. Barbarism sprang up again, in a hideous form, from this mass of
corruption, and spread like a devouring leprosy over the depopulated
provinces. The wise foresaw the downfall of the empire, but could devise
no remedy. What could they think indeed? To save this old society it would
have been necessary to change the objects of public esteem and veneration,
and to abolish the rights affirmed by a justice purely secular; they said:
“Rome has conquered through her politics and her gods; any change in
theology and public opinion would be folly and sacrilege. Rome, merciful
toward conquered nations, though binding them in chains, spared their
lives; slaves are the most fertile source of her wealth; freedom of the
nations would be the negation of her rights and the ruin of her finances.
Rome, in fact, enveloped in the pleasures and gorged with the spoils of
the universe, is kept alive by victory and government; her luxury and her
pleasures are the price of her conquests: she can neither abdicate nor
dispossess herself.” Thus Rome had the facts and the law on her side. Her
pretensions were justified by universal custom and the law of nations. Her
institutions were based upon idolatry in religion, slavery in the State,
and epicurism in private life; to touch those was to shake society to its
foundations, and, to use our modern expression, to open the abyss of
revolutions. So the idea occurred to no one; and yet humanity was dying in
blood and luxury.

All at once a man appeared, calling himself The Word of God. It is not
known to this day who he was, whence he came, nor what suggested to him
his ideas. He went about proclaiming everywhere that the end of the
existing society was at hand, that the world was about to experience a new
birth; that the priests were vipers, the lawyers ignoramuses, and the
philosophers hypocrites and liars; that master and slave were equals, that
usury and every thing akin to it was robbery, that proprietors and idlers
would one day burn, while the poor and pure in heart would find a haven of
peace.

This man—The Word of God—was denounced and arrested as a
public enemy by the priests and the lawyers, who well understood how to
induce the people to demand his death. But this judicial murder, though it
put the finishing stroke to their crimes, did not destroy the doctrinal
seeds which The Word of God had sown. After his death, his original
disciples travelled about in all directions, preaching what they called
the GOOD NEWS, creating in their turn millions of missionaries; and, when
their task seemed to be accomplished, dying by the sword of Roman justice.
This persistent agitation, the war of the executioners and martyrs, lasted
nearly three centuries, ending in the conversion of the world. Idolatry
was destroyed, slavery abolished, dissolution made room for a more austere
morality, and the contempt for wealth was sometimes pushed almost to
privation.

Society was saved by the negation of its own principles, by a revolution
in its religion, and by violation of its most sacred rights. In this
revolution, the idea of justice spread to an extent that had not before
been dreamed of, never to return to its original limits. Heretofore
justice had existed only for the masters; 7 it then
commenced to exist for the slaves.

Nevertheless, the new religion at that time had borne by no means all its
fruits. There was a perceptible improvement of the public morals, and a
partial release from oppression; but, other than that, the SEEDS SOWN BY
THE SON OF MAN, having fallen into idolatrous hearts, had produced nothing
save innumerable discords and a quasi-poetical mythology. Instead of
developing into their practical consequences the principles of morality
and government taught by The Word of God, his followers busied themselves
in speculations as to his birth, his origin, his person, and his actions;
they discussed his parables, and from the conflict of the most extravagant
opinions upon unanswerable questions and texts which no one understood,
was born THEOLOGY,—which may be defined as the SCIENCE OF THE
INFINITELY ABSURD.

The truth of CHRISTIANITY did not survive the age of the apostles; the
GOSPEL, commented upon and symbolized by the Greeks and Latins, loaded
with pagan fables, became literally a mass of contradictions; and to this
day the reign of the INFALLIBLE CHURCH has been a long era of darkness. It
is said that the GATES OF HELL will not always prevail, that THE WORD OF
GOD will return, and that one day men will know truth and justice; but
that will be the death of Greek and Roman Catholicism, just as in the
light of science disappeared the caprices of opinion.

The monsters which the successors of the apostles were bent on destroying,
frightened for a moment, reappeared gradually, thanks to the crazy
fanaticism, and sometimes the deliberate connivance, of priests and
theologians. The history of the enfranchisement of the French communes
offers constantly the spectacle of the ideas of justice and liberty
spreading among the people, in spite of the combined efforts of kings,
nobles, and clergy. In the year 1789 of the Christian era, the French
nation, divided by caste, poor and oppressed, struggled in the triple net
of royal absolutism, the tyranny of nobles and parliaments, and priestly
intolerance. There was the right of the king and the right of the priest,
the right of the patrician and the right of the plebeian; there were the
privileges of birth, province, communes, corporations, and trades; and, at
the bottom of all, violence, immorality, and misery. For some time they
talked of reformation; those who apparently desired it most favoring it
only for their own profit, and the people who were to be the gainers
expecting little and saying nothing. For a long time these poor people,
either from distrust, incredulity, or despair, hesitated to ask for their
rights: it is said that the habit of serving had taken the courage away
from those old communes, which in the middle ages were so bold.

Finally a book appeared, summing up the whole matter in these two
propositions: WHAT IS THE THIRD ESTATE?—NOTHING. WHAT OUGHT IT TO
BE?—EVERY THING. Some one added by way of comment: WHAT IS THE KING?—THE
SERVANT OF THE PEOPLE.

This was a sudden revelation: the veil was torn aside, a thick bandage
fell from all eyes. The people commenced to reason thus:—

If the king is our servant, he ought to report to us;

If he ought to report to us, he is subject to control;

If he can be controlled, he is responsible;

If he is responsible, he is punishable;

If he is punishable, he ought to be punished according to his merits;

If he ought to be punished according to his merits, he can be punished
with death.

Five years after the publication of the brochure of Sieyes, the third
estate was every thing; the king, the nobility, the clergy, were no more.
In 1793, the nation, without stopping at the constitutional fiction of the
inviolability of the sovereign, conducted Louis XVI. to the scaffold; in
1830, it accompanied Charles X. to Cherbourg. In each case, it may have
erred, in fact, in its judgment of the offence; but, in right, the logic
which led to its action was irreproachable. The people, in punishing their
sovereign, did precisely that which the government of July was so severely
censured for failing to do when it refused to execute Louis Bonaparte
after the affair of Strasburg: they struck the true culprit. It was an
application of the common law, a solemn decree of justice enforcing the
penal laws. 8

The spirit which gave rise to the movement of ’89 was a spirit of
negation; that, of itself, proves that the order of things which was
substituted for the old system was not methodical or well-considered;
that, born of anger and hatred, it could not have the effect of a science
based on observation and study; that its foundations, in a word, were not
derived from a profound knowledge of the laws of Nature and society. Thus
the people found that the republic, among the so-called new institutions,
was acting on the very principles against which they had fought, and was
swayed by all the prejudices which they had intended to destroy. We
congratulate ourselves, with inconsiderate enthusiasm, on the glorious
French Revolution, the regeneration of 1789, the great changes that have
been effected, and the reversion of institutions: a delusion, a delusion!

When our ideas on any subject, material, intellectual, or social, undergo
a thorough change in consequence of new observations, I call that movement
of the mind REVOLUTION. If the ideas are simply extended or modified,
there is only PROGRESS. Thus the system of Ptolemy was a step in
astronomical progress, that of Copernicus was a revolution. So, in 1789,
there was struggle and progress; revolution there was none. An examination
of the reforms which were attempted proves this.

The nation, so long a victim of monarchical selfishness, thought to
deliver itself for ever by declaring that it alone was sovereign. But what
was monarchy? The sovereignty of one man. What is democracy? The
sovereignty of the nation, or, rather, of the national majority. But it
is, in both cases, the sovereignty of man instead of the sovereignty of
the law, the sovereignty of the will instead of the sovereignty of the
reason; in one word, the passions instead of justice. Undoubtedly, when a
nation passes from the monarchical to the democratic state, there is
progress, because in multiplying the sovereigns we increase the
opportunities of the reason to substitute itself for the will; but in
reality there is no revolution in the government, since the principle
remains the same. Now, we have the proof to-day that, with the most
perfect democracy, we cannot be free. 9

Nor is that all. The nation-king cannot exercise its sovereignty itself;
it is obliged to delegate it to agents: this is constantly reiterated by
those who seek to win its favor. Be these agents five, ten, one hundred,
or a thousand, of what consequence is the number; and what matters the
name? It is always the government of man, the rule of will and caprice. I
ask what this pretended revolution has revolutionized?

We know, too, how this sovereignty was exercised; first by the Convention,
then by the Directory, afterwards confiscated by the Consul. As for the
Emperor, the strong man so much adored and mourned by the nation, he never
wanted to be dependent on it; but, as if intending to set its sovereignty
at defiance, he dared to demand its suffrage: that is, its abdication, the
abdication of this inalienable sovereignty; and he obtained it.

But what is sovereignty? It is, they say, the POWER TO MAKE LAW. 10
Another absurdity, a relic of despotism. The nation had long seen kings
issuing their commands in this form: FOR SUCH IS OUR PLEASURE; it wished
to taste in its turn the pleasure of making laws. For fifty years it has
brought them forth by myriads; always, be it understood, through the
agency of representatives. The play is far from ended.

The definition of sovereignty was derived from the definition of the law.
The law, they said, is THE EXPRESSION OF THE WILL OF THE SOVEREIGN: then,
under a monarchy, the law is the expression of the will of the king; in a
republic, the law is the expression of the will of the people. Aside from
the difference in the number of wills, the two systems are exactly
identical: both share the same error, namely, that the law is the
expression of a will; it ought to be the expression of a fact. Moreover
they followed good leaders: they took the citizen of Geneva for their
prophet, and the contrat social for their Koran.

Bias and prejudice are apparent in all the phrases of the new legislators.
The nation had suffered from a multitude of exclusions and privileges; its
representatives issued the following declaration: ALL MEN ARE EQUAL BY
NATURE AND BEFORE THE LAW; an ambiguous and redundant declaration. MEN ARE
EQUAL BY NATURE: does that mean that they are equal in size, beauty,
talents, and virtue? No; they meant, then, political and civil equality.
Then it would have been sufficient to have said: ALL MEN ARE EQUAL BEFORE
THE LAW.

But what is equality before the law? Neither the constitution of 1790, nor
that of ’93, nor the granted charter, nor the accepted charter, have
defined it accurately. All imply an inequality in fortune and station
incompatible with even a shadow of equality in rights. In this respect it
may be said that all our constitutions have been faithful expressions of
the popular will: I am going, to prove it.

Formerly the people were excluded from civil and military offices; it was
considered a wonder when the following high-sounding article was inserted
in the Declaration of Rights: “All citizens are equally eligible to
office; free nations know no qualifications in their choice of officers
save virtues and talents.”

They certainly ought to have admired so beautiful an idea: they admired a
piece of nonsense. Why! the sovereign people, legislators, and reformers,
see in public offices, to speak plainly, only opportunities for pecuniary
advancement. And, because it regards them as a source of profit, it
decrees the eligibility of citizens. For of what use would this precaution
be, if there were nothing to gain by it? No one would think of ordaining
that none but astronomers and geographers should be pilots, nor of
prohibiting stutterers from acting at the theatre and the opera. The
nation was still aping the kings: like them it wished to award the
lucrative positions to its friends and flatterers. Unfortunately, and this
last feature completes the resemblance, the nation did not control the
list of livings; that was in the hands of its agents and representatives.
They, on the other hand, took care not to thwart the will of their
gracious sovereign.

This edifying article of the Declaration of Rights, retained in the
charters of 1814 and 1830, implies several kinds of civil inequality; that
is, of inequality before the law: inequality of station, since the public
functions are sought only for the consideration and emoluments which they
bring; inequality of wealth, since, if it had been desired to equalize
fortunes, public service would have been regarded as a duty, not as a
reward; inequality of privilege, the law not stating what it means by
TALENTS and VIRTUES. Under the empire, virtue and talent consisted simply
in military bravery and devotion to the emperor; that was shown when
Napoleon created his nobility, and attempted to connect it with the
ancients. To-day, the man who pays taxes to the amount of two hundred
francs is virtuous; the talented man is the honest pickpocket: such truths
as these are accounted trivial.

The people finally legalized property. God forgive them, for they knew not
what they did! For fifty years they have suffered for their miserable
folly. But how came the people, whose voice, they tell us, is the voice of
God, and whose conscience is infallible,—how came the people to err?
How happens it that, when seeking liberty and equality, they fell back
into privilege and slavery? Always through copying the ancient regime.

Formerly, the nobility and the clergy contributed towards the expenses of
the State only by voluntary aid and gratuitous gift; their property could
not be seized even for debt,—while the plebeian, overwhelmed by
taxes and statute-labor, was continually tormented, now by the king’s
tax-gatherers, now by those of the nobles and clergy. He whose possessions
were subject to mortmain could neither bequeath nor inherit property; he
was treated like the animals, whose services and offspring belong to their
master by right of accession. The people wanted the conditions of
OWNERSHIP to be alike for all; they thought that every one should ENJOY
AND FREELY DISPOSE OF HIS POSSESSIONS HIS INCOME AND THE FRUIT OF HIS
LABOR AND INDUSTRY. The people did not invent property; but as they had
not the same privileges in regard to it, which the nobles and clergy
possessed, they decreed that the right should be exercised by all under
the same conditions. The more obnoxious forms of property—statute-labor,
mortmain, maitrise, and exclusion from public office—have
disappeared; the conditions of its enjoyment have been modified: the
principle still remains the same. There has been progress in the
regulation of the right; there has been no revolution.

These, then, are the three fundamental principles of modern society,
established one after another by the movements of 1789 and 1830: 1.
SOVEREIGNTY OF THE HUMAN WILL; in short, DESPOTISM. 2. INEQUALITY OF
WEALTH AND RANK. 3. PROPERTY—above JUSTICE, always invoked as the
guardian angel of sovereigns, nobles, and proprietors; JUSTICE, the
general, primitive, categorical law of all society.

We must ascertain whether the ideas of DESPOTISM, CIVIL INEQUALITY and
PROPERTY, are in harmony with the primitive notion of JUSTICE, and
necessarily follow from it,—assuming various forms according to the
condition, position, and relation of persons; or whether they are not
rather the illegitimate result of a confusion of different things, a fatal
association of ideas. And since justice deals especially with the
questions of government, the condition of persons, and the possession of
things, we must ascertain under what conditions, judging by universal
opinion and the progress of the human mind, government is just, the
condition of citizens is just, and the possession of things is just; then,
striking out every thing which fails to meet these conditions, the result
will at once tell us what legitimate government is, what the legitimate
condition of citizens is, and what the legitimate possession of things is;
and finally, as the last result of the analysis, what JUSTICE is.

Is the authority of man over man just?

Everybody answers, “No; the authority of man is only the authority of the
law, which ought to be justice and truth.” The private will counts for
nothing in government, which consists, first, in discovering truth and
justice in order to make the law; and, second, in superintending the
execution of this law. I do not now inquire whether our constitutional
form of government satisfies these conditions; whether, for example, the
will of the ministry never influences the declaration and interpretation
of the law; or whether our deputies, in their debates, are more intent on
conquering by argument than by force of numbers: it is enough for me that
my definition of a good government is allowed to be correct. This idea is
exact. Yet we see that nothing seems more just to the Oriental nations
than the despotism of their sovereigns; that, with the ancients and in the
opinion of the philosophers themselves, slavery was just; that in the
middle ages the nobles, the priests, and the bishops felt justified in
holding slaves; that Louis XIV. thought that he was right when he said,
“The State! I am the State;” and that Napoleon deemed it a crime for the
State to oppose his will. The idea of justice, then, applied to
sovereignty and government, has not always been what it is to-day; it has
gone on developing and shaping itself by degrees, until it has arrived at
its present state. But has it reached its last phase? I think not: only,
as the last obstacle to be overcome arises from the institution of
property which we have kept intact, in order to finish the reform in
government and consummate the revolution, this very institution we must
attack.

Is political and civil inequality just?

Some say yes; others no. To the first I would reply that, when the people
abolished all privileges of birth and caste, they did it, in all
probability, because it was for their advantage; why then do they favor
the privileges of fortune more than those of rank and race? Because, say
they, political inequality is a result of property; and without property
society is impossible: thus the question just raised becomes a question of
property. To the second I content myself with this remark: If you wish to
enjoy political equality, abolish property; otherwise, why do you
complain?

Is property just?

Everybody answers without hesitation, “Yes, property is just.” I say
everybody, for up to the present time no one who thoroughly understood the
meaning of his words has answered no. For it is no easy thing to reply
understandingly to such a question; only time and experience can furnish
an answer. Now, this answer is given; it is for us to understand it. I
undertake to prove it.

We are to proceed with the demonstration in the following order:—

I. We dispute not at all, we refute nobody, we deny nothing; we accept as
sound all the arguments alleged in favor of property, and confine
ourselves to a search for its principle, in order that we may then
ascertain whether this principle is faithfully expressed by property. In
fact, property being defensible on no ground save that of justice, the
idea, or at least the intention, of justice must of necessity underlie all
the arguments that have been made in defence of property; and, as on the
other hand the right of property is only exercised over those things which
can be appreciated by the senses, justice, secretly objectifying itself,
so to speak, must take the shape of an algebraic formula.

By this method of investigation, we soon see that every argument which has
been invented in behalf of property, WHATEVER IT MAY BE, always and of
necessity leads to equality; that is, to the negation of property.

The first part covers two chapters: one treating of occupation, the
foundation of our right; the other, of labor and talent, considered as
causes of property and social inequality.

The first of these chapters will prove that the right of occupation
OBSTRUCTS property; the second that the right of labor DESTROYS it.

II. Property, then, being of necessity conceived as existing only in
connection with equality, it remains to find out why, in spite of this
necessity of logic, equality does not exist. This new investigation also
covers two chapters: in the first, considering the fact of property in
itself, we inquire whether this fact is real, whether it exists, whether
it is possible; for it would imply a contradiction, were these two
opposite forms of society, equality and inequality, both possible. Then we
discover, singularly enough, that property may indeed manifest itself
accidentally; but that, as an institution and principle, it is
mathematically impossible. So that the axiom of the school—ab actu
ad posse valet consecutio: from the actual to the possible the inference
is good—is given the lie as far as property is concerned.

Finally, in the last chapter, calling psychology to our aid, and probing
man’s nature to the bottom, we shall disclose the principle of JUSTICE—its
formula and character; we shall state with precision the organic law of
society; we shall explain the origin of property, the causes of its
establishment, its long life, and its approaching death; we shall
definitively establish its identity with robbery. And, after having shown
that these three prejudices—THE SOVEREIGNTY OF MAN, THE INEQUALITY
OF CONDITIONS, AND PROPERTY—are one and the same; that they may be
taken for each other, and are reciprocally convertible,—we shall
have no trouble in inferring therefrom, by the principle of contradiction,
the basis of government and right. There our investigations will end,
reserving the right to continue them in future works.

The importance of the subject which engages our attention is recognized by
all minds.

“Property,” says M. Hennequin, “is the creative and conservative principle
of civil society. Property is one of those basic institutions, new
theories concerning which cannot be presented too soon; for it must not be
forgotten, and the publicist and statesman must know, that on the answer
to the question whether property is the principle or the result of social
order, whether it is to be considered as a cause or an effect, depends all
morality, and, consequently, all the authority of human institutions.”

These words are a challenge to all men of hope and faith; but, although
the cause of equality is a noble one, no one has yet picked up the
gauntlet thrown down by the advocates of property; no one has been
courageous enough to enter upon the struggle. The spurious learning of
haughty jurisprudence, and the absurd aphorisms of a political economy
controlled by property have puzzled the most generous minds; it is a sort
of password among the most influential friends of liberty and the
interests of the people that EQUALITY IS A CHIMERA! So many false theories
and meaningless analogies influence minds otherwise keen, but which are
unconsciously controlled by popular prejudice. Equality advances every day—fit
aequalitas. Soldiers of liberty, shall we desert our flag in the hour of
triumph?

A defender of equality, I shall speak without bitterness and without
anger; with the independence becoming a philosopher, with the courage and
firmness of a free man. May I, in this momentous struggle, carry into all
hearts the light with which I am filled; and show, by the success of my
argument, that equality failed to conquer by the sword only that it might
conquer by the pen!

CHAPTER II. PROPERTY CONSIDERED AS A NATURAL RIGHT

The Roman law defined property as the right to use and abuse one’s own
within the limits of the law—jus utendi et abutendi re sua, quatenus
juris ratio patitur. A justification of the word ABUSE has been attempted,
on the ground that it signifies, not senseless and immoral abuse, but only
absolute domain. Vain distinction! invented as an excuse for property, and
powerless against the frenzy of possession, which it neither prevents nor
represses. The proprietor may, if he chooses, allow his crops to rot under
foot; sow his field with salt; milk his cows on the sand; change his
vineyard into a desert, and use his vegetable-garden as a park: do these
things constitute abuse, or not? In the matter of property, use and abuse
are necessarily indistinguishable.

According to the Declaration of Rights, published as a preface to the
Constitution of ’93, property is “the right to enjoy and dispose at will
of one’s goods, one’s income, and the fruit of one’s labor and industry.”

Code Napoleon, article 544: “Property is the right to enjoy and dispose of
things in the most absolute manner, provided we do not overstep the limits
prescribed by the laws and regulations.”

These two definitions do not differ from that of the Roman law: all give
the proprietor an absolute right over a thing; and as for the restriction
imposed by the code,—PROVIDED WE DO NOT OVERSTEP THE LIMITS
PRESCRIBED BY THE LAWS AND REGULATIONS,—its object is not to limit
property, but to prevent the domain of one proprietor from interfering
with that of another. That is a confirmation of the principle, not a
limitation of it.

There are different kinds of property: 1. Property pure and simple, the
dominant and seigniorial power over a thing; or, as they term it, NAKED
PROPERTY. 2. POSSESSION. “Possession,” says Duranton, “is a matter of
fact, not of right.” Toullier: “Property is a right, a legal power;
possession is a fact.” The tenant, the farmer, the commandite, the
usufructuary, are possessors; the owner who lets and lends for use, the
heir who is to come into possession on the death of a usufructuary, are
proprietors. If I may venture the comparison: a lover is a possessor, a
husband is a proprietor.

This double definition of property—domain and possession—is of
the highest importance; and it must be clearly understood, in order to
comprehend what is to follow.

From the distinction between possession and property arise two sorts of
rights: the jus in re, the right in a thing, the right by which I may
reclaim the property which I have acquired, in whatever hands I find it;
and the jus ad rem, the right TO a thing, which gives me a claim to become
a proprietor. Thus the right of the partners to a marriage over each
other’s person is the jus in re; that of two who are betrothed is only the
jus ad rem. In the first, possession and property are united; the second
includes only naked property. With me who, as a laborer, have a right to
the possession of the products of Nature and my own industry,—and
who, as a proletaire, enjoy none of them,—it is by virtue of the jus
ad rem that I demand admittance to the jus in re.

This distinction between the jus in re and the jus ad rem is the basis of
the famous distinction between possessoire and petitoire,—actual
categories of jurisprudence, the whole of which is included within their
vast boundaries. Petitoire refers to every thing relating to property;
possessoire to that relating to possession. In writing this memoir against
property, I bring against universal society an action petitoire: I prove
that those who do not possess to-day are proprietors by the same title as
those who do possess; but, instead of inferring therefrom that property
should be shared by all, I demand, in the name of general security, its
entire abolition. If I fail to win my case, there is nothing left for us
(the proletarian class and myself) but to cut our throats: we can ask
nothing more from the justice of nations; for, as the code of procedure
(art 26) tells us in its energetic style, THE PLAINTIFF WHO HAS BEEN
NON-SUITED IN AN ACTION PETITOIRE, IS DEBARRED THEREBY FROM BRINGING AN
ACTION POSSESSOIRE. If, on the contrary, I gain the case, we must then
commence an action possessoire, that we may be reinstated in the enjoyment
of the wealth of which we are deprived by property. I hope that we shall
not be forced to that extremity; but these two actions cannot be
prosecuted at once, such a course being prohibited by the same code of
procedure.

Before going to the heart of the question, it will not be useless to offer
a few preliminary remarks.

% 1.—Property as a Natural Right.

The Declaration of Rights has placed property in its list of the natural
and inalienable rights of man, four in all: LIBERTY, EQUALITY, PROPERTY,
SECURITY. What rule did the legislators of ’93 follow in compiling this
list? None. They laid down principles, just as they discussed sovereignty
and the laws; from a general point of view, and according to their own
opinion. They did every thing in their own blind way.

If we can believe Toullier: “The absolute rights can be reduced to three:
SECURITY, LIBERTY, PROPERTY.” Equality is eliminated by the Rennes
professor; why? Is it because LIBERTY implies it, or because property
prohibits it? On this point the author of “Droit Civil Explique” is
silent: it has not even occurred to him that the matter is under
discussion.

Nevertheless, if we compare these three or four rights with each other, we
find that property bears no resemblance whatever to the others; that for
the majority of citizens it exists only potentially, and as a dormant
faculty without exercise; that for the others, who do enjoy it, it is
susceptible of certain transactions and modifications which do not
harmonize with the idea of a natural right; that, in practice,
governments, tribunals, and laws do not respect it; and finally that
everybody, spontaneously and with one voice, regards it as chimerical.

Liberty is inviolable. I can neither sell nor alienate my liberty; every
contract, every condition of a contract, which has in view the alienation
or suspension of liberty, is null: the slave, when he plants his foot upon
the soil of liberty, at that moment becomes a free man. When society
seizes a malefactor and deprives him of his liberty, it is a case of
legitimate defence: whoever violates the social compact by the commission
of a crime declares himself a public enemy; in attacking the liberty of
others, he compels them to take away his own. Liberty is the original
condition of man; to renounce liberty is to renounce the nature of man:
after that, how could we perform the acts of man?

Likewise, equality before the law suffers neither restriction nor
exception. All Frenchmen are equally eligible to office: consequently, in
the presence of this equality, condition and family have, in many cases,
no influence upon choice. The poorest citizen can obtain judgment in the
courts against one occupying the most exalted station. Let the
millionaire, Ahab, build a chateau upon the vineyard of Naboth: the court
will have the power, according to the circumstances, to order the
destruction of the chateau, though it has cost millions; and to force the
trespasser to restore the vineyard to its original state, and pay the
damages. The law wishes all property, that has been legitimately acquired,
to be kept inviolate without regard to value, and without respect for
persons.

The charter demands, it is true, for the exercise of certain political
rights, certain conditions of fortune and capacity; but all publicists
know that the legislator’s intention was not to establish a privilege, but
to take security. Provided the conditions fixed by law are complied with,
every citizen may be an elector, and every elector eligible. The right,
once acquired, is the same for all; the law compares neither persons nor
votes. I do not ask now whether this system is the best; it is enough
that, in the opinion of the charter and in the eyes of every one, equality
before the law is absolute, and, like liberty, admits of no compromise.

It is the same with the right of security. Society promises its members no
half-way protection, no sham defence; it binds itself to them as they bind
themselves to it. It does not say to them, “I will shield you, provided it
costs me nothing; I will protect you, if I run no risks thereby.” It says,
“I will defend you against everybody; I will save and avenge you, or
perish myself.”

The whole strength of the State is at the service of each citizen; the
obligation which binds them together is absolute.

How different with property! Worshipped by all, it is acknowledged by
none: laws, morals, customs, public and private conscience, all plot its
death and ruin.

To meet the expenses of government, which has armies to support, tasks to
perform, and officers to pay, taxes are needed. Let all contribute to
these expenses: nothing more just. But why should the rich pay more than
the poor? That is just, they say, because they possess more. I confess
that such justice is beyond my comprehension.

Why are taxes paid? To protect all in the exercise of their natural rights—liberty,
equality, security, and property; to maintain order in the State; to
furnish the public with useful and pleasant conveniences.

Now, does it cost more to defend the rich man’s life and liberty than the
poor man’s? Who, in time of invasion, famine, or plague, causes more
trouble,—the large proprietor who escapes the evil without the
assistance of the State, or the laborer who sits in his cottage
unprotected from danger?

Is public order endangered more by the worthy citizen, or by the artisan
and journeyman? Why, the police have more to fear from a few hundred
laborers, out of work, than from two hundred thousand electors!

Does the man of large income appreciate more keenly than the poor man
national festivities, clean streets, and beautiful monuments?

Why, he prefers his country-seat to all the popular pleasures; and when he
wants to enjoy himself, he does not wait for the greased pole!

One of two things is true: either the proportional tax affords greater
security to the larger tax-payers, or else it is a wrong.

Because, if property is a natural right, as the Declaration of ’93
declares, all that belongs to me by virtue of this right is as sacred as
my person; it is my blood, my life, myself: whoever touches it offends the
apple of my eye. My income of one hundred thousand francs is as inviolable
as the grisette’s daily wage of seventy-five centimes; her attic is no
more sacred than my suite of apartments. The tax is not levied in
proportion to strength, size, or skill: no more should it be levied in
proportion to property.

If, then, the State takes more from me, let it give me more in return, or
cease to talk of equality of rights; for otherwise, society is
established, not to defend property, but to destroy it. The State, through
the proportional tax, becomes the chief of robbers; the State sets the
example of systematic pillage: the State should be brought to the bar of
justice at the head of those hideous brigands, that execrable mob which it
now kills from motives of professional jealousy.

But, they say, the courts and the police force are established to restrain
this mob; government is a company, not exactly for insurance, for it does
not insure, but for vengeance and repression. The premium which this
company exacts, the tax, is divided in proportion to property; that is, in
proportion to the trouble which each piece of property occasions the
avengers and repressers paid by the government.

This is any thing but the absolute and inalienable right of property.
Under this system the poor and the rich distrust, and make war upon, each
other. But what is the object of the war? Property. So that property is
necessarily accompanied by war upon property. The liberty and security of
the rich do not suffer from the liberty and security of the poor; far from
that, they mutually strengthen and sustain each other. The rich man’s
right of property, on the contrary, has to be continually defended against
the poor man’s desire for property. What a contradiction! In England they
have a poor-rate: they wish me to pay this tax. But what relation exists
between my natural and inalienable right of property and the hunger from
which ten million wretched people are suffering? When religion commands us
to assist our fellows, it speaks in the name of charity, not in the name
of law. The obligation of benevolence, imposed upon me by Christian
morality, cannot be imposed upon me as a political tax for the benefit of
any person or poor-house. I will give alms when I see fit to do so, when
the sufferings of others excite in me that sympathy of which philosophers
talk, and in which I do not believe: I will not be forced to bestow them.
No one is obliged to do more than comply with this injunction: IN THE
EXERCISE OF YOUR OWN RIGHTS DO NOT ENCROACH UPON THE RIGHTS OF ANOTHER; an
injunction which is the exact definition of liberty. Now, my possessions
are my own; no one has a claim upon them: I object to the placing of the
third theological virtue in the order of the day.

Everybody, in France, demands the conversion of the five per cent. bonds;
they demand thereby the complete sacrifice of one species of property.
They have the right to do it, if public necessity requires it; but where
is the just indemnity promised by the charter? Not only does none exist,
but this indemnity is not even possible; for, if the indemnity were equal
to the property sacrificed, the conversion would be useless.

The State occupies the same position to-day toward the bondholders that
the city of Calais did, when besieged by Edward III, toward its notables.
The English conqueror consented to spare its inhabitants, provided it
would surrender to him its most distinguished citizens to do with as he
pleased. Eustache and several others offered themselves; it was noble in
them, and our ministers should recommend their example to the bondholders.
But had the city the right to surrender them? Assuredly not. The right to
security is absolute; the country can require no one to sacrifice himself.
The soldier standing guard within the enemy’s range is no exception to
this rule. Wherever a citizen stands guard, the country stands guard with
him: to-day it is the turn of the one, to-morrow of the other. When danger
and devotion are common, flight is parricide. No one has the right to flee
from danger; no one can serve as a scapegoat. The maxim of Caiaphas—IT
IS RIGHT THAT A MAN SHOULD DIE FOR HIS NATION—is that of the
populace and of tyrants; the two extremes of social degradation.

It is said that all perpetual annuities are essentially redeemable. This
maxim of civil law, applied to the State, is good for those who wish to
return to the natural equality of labor and wealth; but, from the point of
view of the proprietor, and in the mouth of conversionists, it is the
language of bankrupts. The State is not only a borrower, it is an insurer
and guardian of property; granting the best of security, it assures the
most inviolable possession. How, then, can it force open the hands of its
creditors, who have confidence in it, and then talk to them of public
order and security of property? The State, in such an operation, is not a
debtor who discharges his debt; it is a stock-company which allures its
stockholders into a trap, and there, contrary to its authentic promise,
exacts from them twenty, thirty, or forty per cent. of the interest on
their capital.

That is not all. The State is a university of citizens joined together
under a common law by an act of society. This act secures all in the
possession of their property; guarantees to one his field, to another his
vineyard, to a third his rents, and to the bondholder, who might have
bought real estate but who preferred to come to the assistance of the
treasury, his bonds. The State cannot demand, without offering an
equivalent, the sacrifice of an acre of the field or a corner of the
vineyard; still less can it lower rents: why should it have the right to
diminish the interest on bonds? This right could not justly exist, unless
the bondholder could invest his funds elsewhere to equal advantage; but
being confined to the State, where can he find a place to invest them,
since the cause of conversion, that is, the power to borrow to better
advantage, lies in the State? That is why a government, based on the
principle of property, cannot redeem its annuities without the consent of
their holders.

The money deposited with the republic is property which it has no right to
touch while other kinds of property are respected; to force their
redemption is to violate the social contract, and outlaw the bondholders.

The whole controversy as to the conversion of bonds finally reduces itself
to this:—

QUESTION. Is it just to reduce to misery forty-five thousand families who
derive an income from their bonds of one hundred francs or less?

ANSWER. Is it just to compel seven or eight millions of tax-payers to pay
a tax of five francs, when they should pay only three? It is clear, in the
first place, that the reply is in reality no reply; but, to make the wrong
more apparent, let us change it thus: Is it just to endanger the lives of
one hundred thousand men, when we can save them by surrendering one
hundred heads to the enemy? Reader, decide!

All this is clearly understood by the defenders of the present system.
Yet, nevertheless, sooner or later, the conversion will be effected and
property be violated, because no other course is possible; because
property, regarded as a right, and not being a right, must of right
perish; because the force of events, the laws of conscience, and physical
and mathematical necessity must, in the end, destroy this illusion of our
minds.

To sum up: liberty is an absolute right, because it is to man what
impenetrability is to matter,—a sine qua non of existence; equality
is an absolute right, because without equality there is no society;
security is an absolute right, because in the eyes of every man his own
liberty and life are as precious as another’s. These three rights are
absolute; that is, susceptible of neither increase nor diminution; because
in society each associate receives as much as he gives,—liberty for
liberty, equality for equality, security for security, body for body, soul
for soul, in life and in death.

But property, in its derivative sense, and by the definitions of law, is a
right outside of society; for it is clear that, if the wealth of each was
social wealth, the conditions would be equal for all, and it would be a
contradiction to say: PROPERTY IS A MAN’S RIGHT TO DISPOSE AT WILL OF
SOCIAL PROPERTY. Then if we are associated for the sake of liberty,
equality, and security, we are not associated for the sake of property;
then if property is a NATURAL right, this natural right is not SOCIAL, but
ANTI-SOCIAL. Property and society are utterly irreconcilable institutions.
It is as impossible to associate two proprietors as to join two magnets by
their opposite poles. Either society must perish, or it must destroy
property.

If property is a natural, absolute, imprescriptible, and inalienable
right, why, in all ages, has there been so much speculation as to its
origin?—for this is one of its distinguishing characteristics. The
origin of a natural right! Good God! who ever inquired into the origin of
the rights of liberty, security, or equality? They exist by the same right
that we exist; they are born with us, they live and die with us. With
property it is very different, indeed. By law, property can exist without
a proprietor, like a quality without a subject. It exists for the human
being who as yet is not, and for the octogenarian who is no more. And yet,
in spite of these wonderful prerogatives which savor of the eternal and
the infinite, they have never found the origin of property; the doctors
still disagree. On one point only are they in harmony: namely, that the
validity of the right of property depends upon the authenticity of its
origin. But this harmony is their condemnation. Why have they acknowledged
the right before settling the question of origin?

Certain classes do not relish investigation into the pretended titles to
property, and its fabulous and perhaps scandalous history. They wish to
hold to this proposition: that property is a fact; that it always has
been, and always will be. With that proposition the savant Proudhon 11
commenced his “Treatise on the Right of Usufruct,” regarding the origin of
property as a useless question. Perhaps I would subscribe to this
doctrine, believing it inspired by a commendable love of peace, were all
my fellow-citizens in comfortable circumstances; but, no! I will not
subscribe to it.

The titles on which they pretend to base the right of property are two in
number: OCCUPATION and LABOR. I shall examine them successively, under all
their aspects and in detail; and I remind the reader that, to whatever
authority we appeal, I shall prove beyond a doubt that property, to be
just and possible, must necessarily have equality for its condition.

% 2.—Occupation, as the Title to Property.

It is remarkable that, at those meetings of the State Council at which the
Code was discussed, no controversy arose as to the origin and principle of
property. All the articles of Vol. II., Book 2, concerning property and
the right of accession, were passed without opposition or amendment.
Bonaparte, who on other questions had given his legists so much trouble,
had nothing to say about property. Be not surprised at it: in the eyes of
that man, the most selfish and wilful person that ever lived, property was
the first of rights, just as submission to authority was the most holy of
duties.

The right of OCCUPATION, or of the FIRST OCCUPANT, is that which results
from the actual, physical, real possession of a thing. I occupy a piece of
land; the presumption is, that I am the proprietor, until the contrary is
proved. We know that originally such a right cannot be legitimate unless
it is reciprocal; the jurists say as much.

Cicero compares the earth to a vast theatre: Quemadmodum theatrum cum
commune sit, recte tamen dici potest ejus esse eum locum quem quisque
occuparit.

This passage is all that ancient philosophy has to say about the origin of
property.

The theatre, says Cicero, is common to all; nevertheless, the place that
each one occupies is called HIS OWN; that is, it is a place POSSESSED, not
a place APPROPRIATED. This comparison annihilates property; moreover, it
implies equality. Can I, in a theatre, occupy at the same time one place
in the pit, another in the boxes, and a third in the gallery? Not unless I
have three bodies, like Geryon, or can exist in different places at the
same time, as is related of the magician Apollonius.

According to Cicero, no one has a right to more than he needs: such is the
true interpretation of his famous axiom—suum quidque cujusque sit,
to each one that which belongs to him—an axiom that has been
strangely applied. That which belongs to each is not that which each MAY
possess, but that which each HAS A RIGHT to possess. Now, what have we a
right to possess? That which is required for our labor and consumption;
Cicero’s comparison of the earth to a theatre proves it. According to
that, each one may take what place he will, may beautify and adorn it, if
he can; it is allowable: but he must never allow himself to overstep the
limit which separates him from another. The doctrine of Cicero leads
directly to equality; for, occupation being pure toleration, if the
toleration is mutual (and it cannot be otherwise) the possessions are
equal.

Grotius rushes into history; but what kind of reasoning is that which
seeks the origin of a right, said to be natural, elsewhere than in Nature?
This is the method of the ancients: the fact exists, then it is necessary,
then it is just, then its antecedents are just also. Nevertheless, let us
look into it.

“Originally, all things were common and undivided; they were the property
of all.” Let us go no farther. Grotius tells us how this original
communism came to an end through ambition and cupidity; how the age of
gold was followed by the age of iron, &c. So that property rested
first on war and conquest, then on treaties and agreements. But either
these treaties and agreements distributed wealth equally, as did the
original communism (the only method of distribution with which the
barbarians were acquainted, and the only form of justice of which they
could conceive; and then the question of origin assumes this form: how did
equality afterwards disappear?)—or else these treaties and
agreements were forced by the strong upon the weak, and in that case they
are null; the tacit consent of posterity does not make them valid, and we
live in a permanent condition of iniquity and fraud.

We never can conceive how the equality of conditions, having once existed,
could afterwards have passed away. What was the cause of such
degeneration? The instincts of the animals are unchangeable, as well as
the differences of species; to suppose original equality in human society
is to admit by implication that the present inequality is a degeneration
from the nature of this society,—a thing which the defenders of
property cannot explain. But I infer therefrom that, if Providence placed
the first human beings in a condition of equality, it was an indication of
its desires, a model that it wished them to realize in other forms; just
as the religious sentiment, which it planted in their hearts, has
developed and manifested itself in various ways. Man has but one nature,
constant and unalterable: he pursues it through instinct, he wanders from
it through reflection, he returns to it through judgment; who shall say
that we are not returning now? According to Grotius, man has abandoned
equality; according to me, he will yet return to it. How came he to
abandon it? Why will he return to it? These are questions for future
consideration.

Reid writes as follows:—

“The right of property is not innate, but acquired. It is not grounded
upon the constitution of man, but upon his actions. Writers on
jurisprudence have explained its origin in a manner that may satisfy every
man of common understanding.

“The earth is given to men in common for the purposes of life, by the
bounty of Heaven. But to divide it, and appropriate one part of its
produce to one, another part to another, must be the work of men who have
power and understanding given them, by which every man may accommodate
himself, WITHOUT HURT TO ANY OTHER.

“This common right of every man to what the earth produces, before it be
occupied and appropriated by others, was, by ancient moralists, very
properly compared to the right which every citizen had to the public
theatre, where every man that came might occupy an empty seat, and thereby
acquire a right to it while the entertainment lasted; but no man had a
right to dispossess another.

“The earth is a great theatre, furnished by the Almighty, with perfect
wisdom and goodness, for the entertainment and employment of all mankind.
Here every man has a right to accommodate himself as a spectator, and to
perform his part as an actor; but without hurt to others.”

Consequences of Reid’s doctrine.

1. That the portion which each one appropriates may wrong no one, it must
be equal to the quotient of the total amount of property to be shared,
divided by the number of those who are to share it;

2. The number of places being of necessity equal at all times to that of
the spectators, no spectator can occupy two places, nor can any actor play
several parts;

3. Whenever a spectator comes in or goes out, the places of all contract
or enlarge correspondingly: for, says Reid, “THE RIGHT OF PROPERTY IS NOT
INNATE, BUT ACQUIRED;” consequently, it is not absolute; consequently, the
occupancy on which it is based, being a conditional fact, cannot endow
this right with a stability which it does not possess itself. This seems
to have been the thought of the Edinburgh professor when he added:—

“A right to life implies a right to the necessary means of life; and that
justice, which forbids the taking away the life of an innocent man,
forbids no less the taking from him the necessary means of life. He has
the same right to defend the one as the other. To hinder another man’s
innocent labor, or to deprive him of the fruit of it, is an injustice of
the same kind, and has the same effect as to put him in fetters or in
prison, and is equally a just object of resentment.”

Thus the chief of the Scotch school, without considering at all the
inequality of skill or labor, posits a priori the equality of the means of
labor, abandoning thereafter to each laborer the care of his own person,
after the eternal axiom: WHOSO DOES WELL, SHALL FARE WELL.

The philosopher Reid is lacking, not in knowledge of the principle, but in
courage to pursue it to its ultimate. If the right of life is equal, the
right of labor is equal, and so is the right of occupancy. Would it not be
criminal, were some islanders to repulse, in the name of property, the
unfortunate victims of a shipwreck struggling to reach the shore? The very
idea of such cruelty sickens the imagination. The proprietor, like
Robinson Crusoe on his island, wards off with pike and musket the
proletaire washed overboard by the wave of civilization, and seeking to
gain a foothold upon the rocks of property. “Give me work!” cries he with
all his might to the proprietor: “don’t drive me away, I will work for you
at any price.” “I do not need your services,” replies the proprietor,
showing the end of his pike or the barrel of his gun. “Lower my rent at
least.” “I need my income to live upon.” “How can I pay you, when I can
get no work?” “That is your business.” Then the unfortunate proletaire
abandons himself to the waves; or, if he attempts to land upon the shore
of property, the proprietor takes aim, and kills him.

We have just listened to a spiritualist; we will now question a
materialist, then an eclectic: and having completed the circle of
philosophy, we will turn next to law.

According to Destutt de Tracy, property is a necessity of our nature. That
this necessity involves unpleasant consequences, it would be folly to
deny. But these consequences are necessary evils which do not invalidate
the principle; so that it is as unreasonable to rebel against property on
account of the abuses which it generates, as to complain of life because
it is sure to end in death. This brutal and pitiless philosophy promises
at least frank and close reasoning. Let us see if it keeps its promise.

“We talk very gravely about the conditions of property,… as if it was
our province to decide what constitutes property…. It would seem, to
hear certain philosophers and legislators, that at a certain moment,
spontaneously and without cause, people began to use the words THINE and
MINE; and that they might have, or ought to have, dispensed with them. But
THINE and MINE were never invented.”

A philosopher yourself, you are too realistic. THINE and MINE do not
necessarily refer to self, as they do when I say your philosophy, and my
equality; for your philosophy is you philosophizing, and my equality is I
professing equality. THINE and MINE oftener indicate a relation,—YOUR
country, YOUR parish, YOUR tailor, YOUR milkmaid; MY chamber, MY seat at
the theatre, MY company and MY battalion in the National Guard. In the
former sense, we may sometimes say MY labor, MY skill, MY virtue; never MY
grandeur nor MY majesty: in the latter sense only, MY field, MY house, MY
vineyard, MY capital,—precisely as the banker’s clerk says MY
cash-box. In short, THINE and MINE are signs and expressions of personal,
but equal, rights; applied to things outside of us, they indicate
possession, function, use, not property.

It does not seem possible, but, nevertheless, I shall prove, by
quotations, that the whole theory of our author is based upon this paltry
equivocation.

“Prior to all covenants, men are, not exactly, as Hobbes says, in a state
of HOSTILITY, but of ESTRANGEMENT. In this state, justice and injustice
are unknown; the rights of one bear no relation to the rights of another.
All have as many rights as needs, and all feel it their duty to satisfy
those needs by any means at their command.”

Grant it; whether true or false, it matters not. Destutt de Tracy cannot
escape equality. On this theory, men, while in a state of ESTRANGEMENT,
are under no obligations to each other; they all have the right to satisfy
their needs without regard to the needs of others, and consequently the
right to exercise their power over Nature, each according to his strength
and ability. That involves the greatest inequality of wealth. Inequality
of conditions, then, is the characteristic feature of estrangement or
barbarism: the exact opposite of Rousseau’s idea.

But let us look farther:—

“Restrictions of these rights and this duty commence at the time when
covenants, either implied or expressed, are agreed upon. Then appears for
the first time justice and injustice; that is, the balance between the
rights of one and the rights of another, which up to that time were
necessarily equal.”

Listen: RIGHTS WERE EQUAL; that means that each individual had the right
to SATISFY HIS NEEDS WITHOUT REFERENCE TO THE NEEDS OF OTHERS. In other
words, that all had the right to injure each other; that there was no
right save force and cunning. They injured each other, not only by war and
pillage, but also by usurpation and appropriation. Now, in order to
abolish this equal right to use force and stratagem,—this equal
right to do evil, the sole source of the inequality of benefits and
injuries,—they commenced to make COVENANTS EITHER IMPLIED OR
EXPRESSED, and established a balance. Then these agreements and this
balance were intended to secure to all equal comfort; then, by the law of
contradictions, if isolation is the principle of inequality, society must
produce equality. The social balance is the equalization of the strong and
the weak; for, while they are not equals, they are strangers; they can
form no associations,—they live as enemies. Then, if inequality of
conditions is a necessary evil, so is isolation, for society and
inequality are incompatible with each other. Then, if society is the true
condition of man’s existence, so is equality also. This conclusion cannot
be avoided.

This being so, how is it that, ever since the establishment of this
balance, inequality has been on the increase? How is it that justice and
isolation always accompany each other? Destutt de Tracy shall reply:—

“NEEDS and MEANS, RIGHTS and DUTIES, are products of the will. If man
willed nothing, these would not exist. But to have needs and means, rights
and duties, is to HAVE, to POSSESS, something. They are so many kinds of
property, using the word in its most general sense: they are things which
belong to us.”

Shameful equivocation, not justified by the necessity for generalization!
The word PROPERTY has two meanings: 1. It designates the quality which
makes a thing what it is; the attribute which is peculiar to it, and
especially distinguishes it. We use it in this sense when we say THE
PROPERTIES OF THE TRIANGLE or of NUMBERS; THE PROPERTY OF THE MAGNET,
&c. 2. It expresses the right of absolute control over a thing by a
free and intelligent being. It is used in this sense by writers on
jurisprudence. Thus, in the phrase, IRON ACQUIRES THE PROPERTY OF A
MAGNET, the word PROPERTY does not convey the same idea that it does in
this one: I HAVE ACQUIRED THIS MAGNET AS MY PROPERTY. To tell a
poor man that he HAS property because he HAS arms and legs,—that the
hunger from which he suffers, and his power to sleep in the open air are
his property,—is to play upon words, and to add insult to injury.

“The sole basis of the idea of property is the idea of personality. As
soon as property is born at all, it is born, of necessity, in all its
fulness. As soon as an individual knows HIMSELF,—his moral
personality, his capacities of enjoyment, suffering, and action,—he
necessarily sees also that this SELF is exclusive proprietor of the body
in which it dwells, its organs, their powers, faculties, &c….
Inasmuch as artificial and conventional property exists, there must be
natural property also; for nothing can exist in art without its
counterpart in Nature.”

We ought to admire the honesty and judgment of philosophers! Man has
properties; that is, in the first acceptation of the term, faculties. He
has property; that is, in its second acceptation, the right of domain. He
has, then, the property of the property of being proprietor. How ashamed I
should be to notice such foolishness, were I here considering only the
authority of Destutt de Tracy! But the entire human race, since the
origination of society and language, when metaphysics and dialectics were
first born, has been guilty of this puerile confusion of thought. All
which man could call his own was identified in his mind with his person.
He considered it as his property, his wealth; a part of himself, a member
of his body, a faculty of his mind. The possession of things was likened
to property in the powers of the body and mind; and on this false analogy
was based the right of property,—THE IMITATION OF NATURE BY ART, as
Destutt de Tracy so elegantly puts it.

But why did not this ideologist perceive that man is not proprietor even
of his own faculties? Man has powers, attributes, capacities; they are
given him by Nature that he may live, learn, and love: he does not own
them, but has only the use of them; and he can make no use of them that
does not harmonize with Nature’s laws. If he had absolute mastery over his
faculties, he could avoid hunger and cold; he could eat unstintedly, and
walk through fire; he could move mountains, walk a hundred leagues in a
minute, cure without medicines and by the sole force of his will, and
could make himself immortal. He could say, “I wish to produce,” and his
tasks would be finished with the words; he could say. “I wish to know,”
and he would know; “I love,” and he would enjoy. What then? Man is not
master of himself, but may be of his surroundings. Let him use the wealth
of Nature, since he can live only by its use; but let him abandon his
pretensions to the title of proprietor, and remember that he is called so
only metaphorically.

To sum up: Destutt de Tracy classes together the external PRODUCTIONS of
nature and art, and the POWERS or FACULTIES of man, making both of them
species of property; and upon this equivocation he hopes to establish, so
firmly that it can never be disturbed, the right of property. But of these
different kinds of property some are INNATE, as memory, imagination,
strength, and beauty; while others are ACQUIRED, as land, water, and
forests. In the state of Nature or isolation, the strongest and most
skilful (that is, those best provided with innate property) stand the best
chance of obtaining acquired property. Now, it is to prevent this
encroachment and the war which results therefrom, that a balance (justice)
has been employed, and covenants (implied or expressed) agreed upon: it is
to correct, as far as possible, inequality of innate property by equality
of acquired property. As long as the division remains unequal, so long the
partners remain enemies; and it is the purpose of the covenants to reform
this state of things. Thus we have, on the one hand, isolation,
inequality, enmity, war, robbery, murder; on the other, society, equality,
fraternity, peace, and love. Choose between them!

M. Joseph Dutens—a physician, engineer, and geometrician, but a very
poor legist, and no philosopher at all—is the author of a
“Philosophy of Political Economy,” in which he felt it his duty to break
lances in behalf of property. His reasoning seems to be borrowed from
Destutt de Tracy. He commences with this definition of property, worthy of
Sganarelle: “Property is the right by which a thing is one’s own.”
Literally translated: Property is the right of property.

After getting entangled a few times on the subjects of will, liberty, and
personality; after having distinguished between IMMATERIAL-NATURAL
property, and MATERIAL-NATURAL property, a distinction similar to Destutt
de Tracy’s of innate and acquired property,—M. Joseph Dutens
concludes with these two general propositions: 1. Property is a natural
and inalienable right of every man; 2. Inequality of property is a
necessary result of Nature,—which propositions are convertible into
a simpler one: All men have an equal right of unequal property.

He rebukes M. de Sismondi for having taught that landed property has no
other basis than law and conventionality; and he says himself, speaking of
the respect which people feel for property, that “their good sense reveals
to them the nature of the ORIGINAL CONTRACT made between society and
proprietors.”

He confounds property with possession, communism with equality, the just
with the natural, and the natural with the possible. Now he takes these
different ideas to be equivalents; now he seems to distinguish between
them, so much so that it would be infinitely easier to refute him than to
understand him. Attracted first by the title of the work, “Philosophy of
Political Economy,” I have found, among the author’s obscurities, only the
most ordinary ideas. For that reason I will not speak of him.

M. Cousin, in his “Moral Philosophy,” page 15, teaches that all morality,
all laws, all rights are given to man with this injunction: “FREE BEING,
REMAIN FREE.” Bravo! master; I wish to remain free if I can. He continues:—

“Our principle is true; it is good, it is social. Do not fear to push it
to its ultimate.

“1. If the human person is sacred, its whole nature is sacred; and
particularly its interior actions, its feelings, its thoughts, its
voluntary decisions. This accounts for the respect due to philosophy,
religion, the arts industry, commerce, and to all the results of liberty.
I say respect, not simply toleration; for we do not tolerate a right, we
respect it.”

I bow my head before this philosophy.

“2. My liberty, which is sacred, needs for its objective action an
instrument which we call the body: the body participates then in the
sacredness of liberty; it is then inviolable. This is the basis of the
principle of individual liberty.

“3. My liberty needs, for its objective action, material to work upon; in
other words, property or a thing. This thing or property naturally
participates then in the inviolability of my person. For instance, I take
possession of an object which has become necessary and useful in the
outward manifestation of my liberty. I say, ‘This object is mine since it
belongs to no one else; consequently, I possess it legitimately.’ So the
legitimacy of possession rests on two conditions. First, I possess only as
a free being. Suppress free activity, you destroy my power to labor. Now
it is only by labor that I can use this property or thing, and it is only
by using it that I possess it. Free activity is then the principle of the
right of property. But that alone does not legitimate possession. All men
are free; all can use property by labor. Does that mean that all men have
a right to all property? Not at all. To possess legitimately, I must not
only labor and produce in my capacity of a free being, but I must also be
the first to occupy the property. In short, if labor and production are
the principle of the right of property, the fact of first occupancy is its
indispensable condition.

“4. I possess legitimately: then I have the right to use my property as I
see fit. I have also the right to give it away. I have also the right to
bequeath it; for if I decide to make a donation, my decision is as valid
after my death as during my life.”

In fact, to become a proprietor, in M. Cousin’s opinion, one must take
possession by occupation and labor. I maintain that the element of time
must be considered also; for if the first occupants have occupied every
thing, what are the new comers to do? What will become of them, having an
instrument with which to work, but no material to work upon? Must they
devour each other? A terrible extremity, unforeseen by philosophical
prudence; for the reason that great geniuses neglect little things.

Notice also that M. Cousin says that neither occupation nor labor, taken
separately, can legitimate the right of property; and that it is born only
from the union of the two. This is one of M. Cousin’s eclectic turns,
which he, more than any one else, should take pains to avoid. Instead of
proceeding by the method of analysis, comparison, elimination, and
reduction (the only means of discovering the truth amid the various forms
of thought and whimsical opinions), he jumbles all systems together, and
then, declaring each both right and wrong, exclaims: “There you have the
truth.”

But, adhering to my promise, I will not refute him. I will only prove, by
all the arguments with which he justifies the right of property, the
principle of equality which kills it. As I have already said, my sole
intent is this: to show at the bottom of all these positions that
inevitable major, EQUALITY; hoping hereafter to show that the principle of
property vitiates the very elements of economical, moral, and governmental
science, thus leading it in the wrong direction.

Well, is it not true, from M. Cousin’s point of view, that, if the liberty
of man is sacred, it is equally sacred in all individuals; that, if it
needs property for its objective action, that is, for its life, the
appropriation of material is equally necessary for all; that, if I wish to
be respected in my right of appropriation, I must respect others in
theirs; and, consequently, that though, in the sphere of the infinite, a
person’s power of appropriation is limited only by himself, in the sphere
of the finite this same power is limited by the mathematical relation
between the number of persons and the space which they occupy? Does it not
follow that if one individual cannot prevent another—his fellow-man—from
appropriating an amount of material equal to his own, no more can he
prevent individuals yet to come; because, while individuality passes away,
universality persists, and eternal laws cannot be determined by a partial
view of their manifestations? Must we not conclude, therefore, that
whenever a person is born, the others must crowd closer together; and, by
reciprocity of obligation, that if the new comer is afterwards to become
an heir, the right of succession does not give him the right of
accumulation, but only the right of choice?

I have followed M. Cousin so far as to imitate his style, and I am ashamed
of it. Do we need such high-sounding terms, such sonorous phrases, to say
such simple things? Man needs to labor in order to live; consequently, he
needs tools to work with and materials to work upon. His need to produce
constitutes his right to produce. Now, this right is guaranteed him by his
fellows, with whom he makes an agreement to that effect. One hundred
thousand men settle in a large country like France with no inhabitants:
each man has a right to 1/100,000 of the land. If the number of possessors
increases, each one’s portion diminishes in consequence; so that, if the
number of inhabitants rises to thirty-four millions, each one will have a
right only to 1/34,000,000. Now, so regulate the police system and the
government, labor, exchange, inheritance, &c., that the means of labor
shall be shared by all equally, and that each individual shall be free;
and then society will be perfect.

Of all the defenders of property, M. Cousin has gone the farthest. He has
maintained against the economists that labor does not establish the right
of property unless preceded by occupation, and against the jurists that
the civil law can determine and apply a natural right, but cannot create
it. In fact, it is not sufficient to say, “The right of property is
demonstrated by the existence of property; the function of the civil law
is purely declaratory.” To say that, is to confess that there is no reply
to those who question the legitimacy of the fact itself. Every right must
be justifiable in itself, or by some antecedent right; property is no
exception. For this reason, M. Cousin has sought to base it upon the
SANCTITY of the human personality, and the act by which the will
assimilates a thing. “Once touched by man,” says one of M. Cousin’s
disciples, “things receive from him a character which transforms and
humanizes them.” I confess, for my part, that I have no faith in this
magic, and that I know of nothing less holy than the will of man. But this
theory, fragile as it seems to psychology as well as jurisprudence, is
nevertheless more philosophical and profound than those theories which are
based upon labor or the authority of the law. Now, we have just seen to
what this theory of which we are speaking leads,—to the equality
implied in the terms of its statement.

But perhaps philosophy views things from too lofty a standpoint, and is
not sufficiently practical; perhaps from the exalted summit of speculation
men seem so small to the metaphysician that he cannot distinguish between
them; perhaps, indeed, the equality of conditions is one of those
principles which are very true and sublime as generalities, but which it
would be ridiculous and even dangerous to attempt to rigorously apply to
the customs of life and to social transactions. Undoubtedly, this is a
case which calls for imitation of the wise reserve of moralists and
jurists, who warn us against carrying things to extremes, and who advise
us to suspect every definition; because there is not one, they say, which
cannot be utterly destroyed by developing its disastrous results—Omnis
definitio in jure civili periculosa est: parum est enim ut non subverti
possit. Equality of conditions,—a terrible dogma in the ears of
the proprietor, a consoling truth at the poor-man’s sick-bed, a frightful
reality under the knife of the anatomist,—equality of conditions,
established in the political, civil, and industrial spheres, is only an
alluring impossibility, an inviting bait, a satanic delusion.

It is never my intention to surprise my reader. I detest, as I do death,
the man who employs subterfuge in his words and conduct. From the first
page of this book, I have expressed myself so plainly and decidedly that
all can see the tendency of my thought and hopes; and they will do me the
justice to say, that it would be difficult to exhibit more frankness and
more boldness at the same time. I do not hesitate to declare that the time
is not far distant when this reserve, now so much admired in philosophers—this
happy medium so strongly recommended by professors of moral and political
science—will be regarded as the disgraceful feature of a science
without principle, and as the seal of its reprobation. In legislation and
morals, as well as in geometry, axioms are absolute, definitions are
certain; and all the results of a principle are to be accepted, provided
they are logically deduced. Deplorable pride! We know nothing of our
nature, and we charge our blunders to it; and, in a fit of unaffected
ignorance, cry out, “The truth is in doubt, the best definition defines
nothing!” We shall know some time whether this distressing uncertainty of
jurisprudence arises from the nature of its investigations, or from our
prejudices; whether, to explain social phenomena, it is not enough to
change our hypothesis, as did Copernicus when he reversed the system of
Ptolemy.

But what will be said when I show, as I soon shall, that this same
jurisprudence continually tries to base property upon equality? What reply
can be made?

% 3.—Civil Law as the Foundation and Sanction of Property.

Pothier seems to think that property, like royalty, exists by divine
right. He traces back its origin to God himself—ab Jove principium.
He begins in this way:—

“God is the absolute ruler of the universe and all that it contains: Domini
est terra et plenitudo ejus, orbis et universi qui habitant in eo. For
the human race he has created the earth and all its creatures, and has
given it a control over them subordinate only to his own. ‘Thou madest him
to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things
under his feet,’ says the Psalmist. God accompanied this gift with these
words, addressed to our first parents after the creation: ‘Be fruitful,
and multiply and replenish the earth,'” &c.

After this magnificent introduction, who would refuse to believe the human
race to be an immense family living in brotherly union, and under the
protection of a venerable father? But, heavens! are brothers enemies? Are
fathers unnatural, and children prodigal?

GOD GAVE THE EARTH TO THE HUMAN RACE: why then have I received none? HE
HAS PUT ALL THINGS UNDER MY FEET,—and I have not where to lay my
head! MULTIPLY, he tells us through his interpreter, Pothier. Ah, learned
Pothier! that is as easy to do as to say; but you must give moss to the
bird for its nest.

“The human race having multiplied, men divided among themselves the earth
and most of the things upon it; that which fell to each, from that time
exclusively belonged to him. That was the origin of the right of
property.”

Say, rather, the right of possession. Men lived in a state of communism;
whether positive or negative it matters little. Then there was no
property, not even private possession. The genesis and growth of
possession gradually forcing people to labor for their support, they
agreed either formally or tacitly,—it makes no difference which,—that
the laborer should be sole proprietor of the fruit of his labor; that is,
they simply declared the fact that thereafter none could live without
working. It necessarily followed that, to obtain equality of products,
there must be equality of labor; and that, to obtain equality of labor,
there must be equality of facilities for labor. Whoever without labor got
possession, by force or by strategy, of another’s means of subsistence,
destroyed equality, and placed himself above or outside of the law.
Whoever monopolized the means of production on the ground of greater
industry, also destroyed equality. Equality being then the expression of
right, whoever violated it was UNJUST.

Thus, labor gives birth to private possession; the right in a thing—jus
in re. But in what thing? Evidently IN THE PRODUCT, not IN THE SOIL. So
the Arabs have always understood it; and so, according to Caesar and
Tacitus, the Germans formerly held. “The Arabs,” says M. de Sismondi, “who
admit a man’s property in the flocks which he has raised, do not refuse
the crop to him who planted the seed; but they do not see why another, his
equal, should not have a right to plant in his turn. The inequality which
results from the pretended right of the first occupant seems to them to be
based on no principle of justice; and when all the land falls into the
hands of a certain number of inhabitants, there results a monopoly in
their favor against the rest of the nation, to which they do not wish to
submit.”

Well, they have shared the land. I admit that therefrom results a more
powerful organization of labor; and that this method of distribution,
fixed and durable, is advantageous to production: but how could this
division give to each a transferable right of property in a thing to which
all had an inalienable right of possession? In the terms of jurisprudence,
this metamorphosis from possessor to proprietor is legally impossible; it
implies in the jurisdiction of the courts the union of possessoire and
petitoire; and the mutual concessions of those who share the land are
nothing less than traffic in natural rights. The original cultivators of
the land, who were also the original makers of the law, were not as
learned as our legislators, I admit; and had they been, they could not
have done worse: they did not foresee the consequences of the
transformation of the right of private possession into the right of
absolute property. But why have not those, who in later times have
established the distinction between jus in re and jus ad rem, applied it
to the principle of property itself?

Let me call the attention of the writers on jurisprudence to their own
maxims.

The right of property, provided it can have a cause, can have but one—Dominium
non potest nisi ex una causa contingere. I can possess by several
titles; I can become proprietor by only one—Non ut ex pluribus
causis idem nobis deberi potest, ita ex pluribus causis idem potest
nostrum esse. The field which I have cleared, which I cultivate, on
which I have built my house, which supports myself, my family, and my
livestock, I can possess: 1st. As the original occupant; 2d. As a laborer;
3d. By virtue of the social contract which assigns it to me as my share.

But none of these titles confer upon me the right of property. For, if I
attempt to base it upon occupancy, society can reply, “I am the original
occupant.” If I appeal to my labor, it will say, “It is only on that
condition that you possess.” If I speak of agreements, it will respond,
“These agreements establish only your right of use.” Such, however, are
the only titles which proprietors advance. They never have been able to
discover any others. Indeed, every right—it is Pothier who says it—supposes
a producing cause in the person who enjoys it; but in man who lives and
dies, in this son of earth who passes away like a shadow, there exists,
with respect to external things, only titles of possession, not one title
of property. Why, then, has society recognized a right injurious to
itself, where there is no producing cause? Why, in according possession,
has it also conceded property? Why has the law sanctioned this abuse of
power?

The German Ancillon replies thus:—

“Some philosophers pretend that man, in employing his forces upon a
natural object,—say a field or a tree,—acquires a right only
to the improvements which he makes, to the form which he gives to the
object, not to the object itself. Useless distinction! If the form could
be separated from the object, perhaps there would be room for question;
but as this is almost always impossible, the application of man’s strength
to the different parts of the visible world is the foundation of the right
of property, the primary origin of riches.”

Vain pretext! If the form cannot be separated from the object, nor
property from possession, possession must be shared; in any case, society
reserves the right to fix the conditions of property. Let us suppose that
an appropriated farm yields a gross income of ten thousand francs; and, as
very seldom happens, that this farm cannot be divided. Let us suppose
farther that, by economical calculation, the annual expenses of a family
are three thousand francs: the possessor of this farm should be obliged to
guard his reputation as a good father of a family, by paying to society
ten thousand francs,—less the total costs of cultivation, and the
three thousand francs required for the maintenance of his family. This
payment is not rent, it is an indemnity.

What sort of justice is it, then, which makes such laws as this:—

“Whereas, since labor so changes the form of a thing that the form and
substance cannot be separated without destroying the thing itself, either
society must be disinherited, or the laborer must lose the fruit of his
labor; and

“Whereas, in every other case, property in raw material would give a title
to added improvements, minus their cost; and whereas, in this instance,
property in improvements ought to give a title to the principal;

“Therefore, the right of appropriation by labor shall never be admitted
against individuals, but only against society.”

In such a way do legislators always reason in regard to property.

The law is intended to protect men’s mutual rights,—that is, the
rights of each against each, and each against all; and, as if a proportion
could exist with less than four terms, the law-makers always disregard the
latter. As long as man is opposed to man, property offsets property, and
the two forces balance each other; as soon as man is isolated, that is,
opposed to the society which he himself represents, jurisprudence is at
fault: Themis has lost one scale of her balance.

Listen to the professor of Rennes, the learned Toullier:—

“How could this claim, made valid by occupation, become stable and
permanent property, which might continue to stand, and which might be
reclaimed after the first occupant had relinquished possession?

“Agriculture was a natural consequence of the multiplication of the human
race, and agriculture, in its turn, favors population, and necessitates
the establishment of permanent property; for who would take the trouble to
plough and sow, if he were not certain that he would reap?”

To satisfy the husbandman, it was sufficient to guarantee him possession
of his crop; admit even that he should have been protected in his right of
occupation of land, as long as he remained its cultivator. That was all
that he had a right to expect; that was all that the advance of
civilization demanded. But property, property! the right of escheat over
lands which one neither occupies nor cultivates,—who had authority
to grant it? who pretended to have it?

“Agriculture alone was not sufficient to establish permanent property;
positive laws were needed, and magistrates to execute them; in a word, the
civil State was needed.

“The multiplication of the human race had rendered agriculture necessary;
the need of securing to the cultivator the fruit of his labor made
permanent property necessary, and also laws for its protection. So we are
indebted to property for the creation of the civil State.”

Yes, of our civil State, as you have made it; a State which, at first, was
despotism, then monarchy, then aristocracy, today democracy, and always
tyranny.

“Without the ties of property it never would have been possible to
subordinate men to the wholesome yoke of the law; and without permanent
property the earth would have remained a vast forest. Let us admit, then,
with the most careful writers, that if transient property, or the right of
preference resulting from occupation, existed prior to the establishment
of civil society, permanent property, as we know it to-day, is the work of
civil law. It is the civil law which holds that, when once acquired,
property can be lost only by the action of the proprietor, and that it
exists even after the proprietor has relinquished possession of the thing,
and it has fallen into the hands of a third party.

“Thus property and possession, which originally were confounded, became
through the civil law two distinct and independent things; two things
which, in the language of the law, have nothing whatever in common. In
this we see what a wonderful change has been effected in property, and to
what an extent Nature has been altered by the civil laws.”

Thus the law, in establishing property, has not been the expression of a
psychological fact, the development of a natural law, the application of a
moral principle. It has literally CREATED a right outside of its own
province. It has realized an abstraction, a metaphor, a fiction; and that
without deigning to look at the consequences, without considering the
disadvantages, without inquiring whether it was right or wrong.

It has sanctioned selfishness; it has indorsed monstrous pretensions; it
has received with favor impious vows, as if it were able to fill up a
bottomless pit, and to satiate hell! Blind law; the law of the ignorant
man; a law which is not a law; the voice of discord, deceit, and blood!
This it is which, continually revived, reinstated, rejuvenated, restored,
re-enforced—as the palladium of society—has troubled the
consciences of the people, has obscured the minds of the masters, and has
induced all the catastrophes which have befallen nations.

This it is which Christianity has condemned, but which its ignorant
ministers deify; who have as little desire to study Nature and man, as
ability to read their Scriptures.

But, indeed, what guide did the law follow in creating the domain of
property? What principle directed it? What was its standard?

Would you believe it? It was equality.

Agriculture was the foundation of territorial possession, and the original
cause of property. It was of no use to secure to the farmer the fruit of
his labor, unless the means of production were at the same time secured to
him. To fortify the weak against the invasion of the strong, to suppress
spoliation and fraud, the necessity was felt of establishing between
possessors permanent lines of division, insuperable obstacles. Every year
saw the people multiply, and the cupidity of the husbandman increase: it
was thought best to put a bridle on ambition by setting boundaries which
ambition would in vain attempt to overstep. Thus the soil came to be
appropriated through need of the equality which is essential to public
security and peaceable possession. Undoubtedly the division was never
geographically equal; a multitude of rights, some founded in Nature, but
wrongly interpreted and still more wrongly applied, inheritance, gift, and
exchange; others, like the privileges of birth and position, the
illegitimate creations of ignorance and brute force,—all operated to
prevent absolute equality. But, nevertheless, the principle remained the
same: equality had sanctioned possession; equality sanctioned property.

The husbandman needed each year a field to sow; what more convenient and
simple arrangement for the barbarians,—instead of indulging in
annual quarrels and fights, instead of continually moving their houses,
furniture, and families from spot to spot,—than to assign to each
individual a fixed and inalienable estate?

It was not right that the soldier, on returning from an expedition, should
find himself dispossessed on account of the services which he had just
rendered to his country; his estate ought to be restored to him. It
became, therefore, customary to retain property by intent alone—nudo
animo; it could be sacrificed only with the consent and by the action
of the proprietor.

It was necessary that the equality in the division should be kept up from
one generation to another, without a new distribution of the land upon the
death of each family; it appeared therefore natural and just that children
and parents, according to the degree of relationship which they bore to
the deceased, should be the heirs of their ancestors. Thence came, in the
first place, the feudal and patriarchal custom of recognizing only one
heir; then, by a quite contrary application of the principle of equality,
the admission of all the children to a share in their father’s estate,
and, very recently also among us, the definitive abolition of the right of
primogeniture.

But what is there in common between these rude outlines of instinctive
organization and the true social science? How could these men, who never
had the faintest idea of statistics, valuation, or political economy,
furnish us with principles of legislation?

“The law,” says a modern writer on jurisprudence, “is the expression of a
social want, the declaration of a fact: the legislator does not make it,
he declares it. ‘This definition is not exact. The law is a method by
which social wants must be satisfied; the people do not vote it, the
legislator does not express it: the savant discovers and formulates it.”
But in fact, the law, according to M. Ch. Comte, who has devoted half a
volume to its definition, was in the beginning only the EXPRESSION OF A
WANT, and the indication of the means of supplying it; and up to this time
it has been nothing else. The legists—with mechanical fidelity, full
of obstinacy, enemies of philosophy, buried in literalities—have
always mistaken for the last word of science that which was only the
inconsiderate aspiration of men who, to be sure, were well-meaning, but
wanting in foresight.

They did not foresee, these old founders of the domain of property, that
the perpetual and absolute right to retain one’s estate,—a right
which seemed to them equitable, because it was common,—involves the
right to transfer, sell, give, gain, and lose it; that it tends,
consequently, to nothing less than the destruction of that equality which
they established it to maintain. And though they should have foreseen it,
they disregarded it; the present want occupied their whole attention, and,
as ordinarily happens in such cases, the disadvantages were at first
scarcely perceptible, and they passed unnoticed.

They did not foresee, these ingenuous legislators, that if property is
retainable by intent alone—nudo animo—it carries with
it the right to let, to lease, to loan at interest, to profit by exchange,
to settle annuities, and to levy a tax on a field which intent reserves,
while the body is busy elsewhere.

They did not foresee, these fathers of our jurisprudence, that, if the
right of inheritance is any thing other than Nature’s method of preserving
equality of wealth, families will soon become victims of the most
disastrous exclusions; and society, pierced to the heart by one of its
most sacred principles, will come to its death through opulence and
misery. 12

Under whatever form of government we live, it can always be said that le
mort saisit le vif; that is, that inheritance and succession will last
for ever, whoever may be the recognized heir. But the St. Simonians wish
the heir to be designated by the magistrate; others wish him to be chosen
by the deceased, or assumed by the law to be so chosen: the essential
point is that Nature’s wish be satisfied, so far as the law of equality
allows.

To-day the real controller of inheritance is chance or caprice; now, in
matters of legislation, chance and caprice cannot be accepted as guides.
It is for the purpose of avoiding the manifold disturbances which follow
in the wake of chance that Nature, after having created us equal, suggests
to us the principle of heredity; which serves as a voice by which society
asks us to choose, from among all our brothers, him whom we judge best
fitted to complete our unfinished work.

They did not foresee…. But why need I go farther?

The consequences are plain enough, and this is not the time to criticise
the whole Code.

The history of property among the ancient nations is, then, simply a
matter of research and curiosity. It is a rule of jurisprudence that the
fact does not substantiate the right. Now, property is no exception to
this rule: then the universal recognition of the right of property does
not legitimate the right of property. Man is mistaken as to the
constitution of society, the nature of right, and the application of
justice; just as he was mistaken regarding the cause of meteors and the
movement of the heavenly bodies. His old opinions cannot be taken for
articles of faith. Of what consequence is it to us that the Indian race
was divided into four classes; that, on the banks of the Nile and the
Ganges, blood and position formerly determined the distribution of the
land; that the Greeks and Romans placed property under the protection of
the gods; that they accompanied with religious ceremonies the work of
partitioning the land and appraising their goods? The variety of the forms
of privilege does not sanction injustice. The faith of Jupiter, the
proprietor, 13 proves no more against the
equality of citizens, than do the mysteries of Venus, the wanton, against
conjugal chastity.

The authority of the human race is of no effect as evidence in favor of
the right of property, because this right, resting of necessity upon
equality, contradicts its principle; the decision of the religions which
have sanctioned it is of no effect, because in all ages the priest has
submitted to the prince, and the gods have always spoken as the
politicians desired; the social advantages, attributed to property, cannot
be cited in its behalf, because they all spring from the principle of
equality of possession.

What means, then, this dithyramb upon property?

“The right of property is the most important of human institutions.”…

Yes; as monarchy is the most glorious.

“The original cause of man’s prosperity upon earth.”

Because justice was supposed to be its principle.

“Property became the legitimate end of his ambition, the hope of his
existence, the shelter of his family; in a word, the corner-stone of the
domestic dwelling, of communities, and of the political State.”

Possession alone produced all that.

“Eternal principle,—”

Property is eternal, like every negation,—

“Of all social and civil institutions.”

For that reason, every institution and every law based on property will
perish.

“It is a boon as precious as liberty.”

For the rich proprietor.

“In fact, the cause of the cultivation of the habitable earth.”

If the cultivator ceased to be a tenant, would the land be worse cared
for?

“The guarantee and the morality of labor.”

Under the regime of property, labor is not a condition, but a privilege.

“The application of justice.”

What is justice without equality of fortunes? A balance with false
weights.

“All morality,—”

A famished stomach knows no morality,—

“All public order,—”

Certainly, the preservation of property,—

“Rest on the right of property.” 14

Corner-stone of all which is, stumbling-block of all which ought to be,—such
is property.

To sum up and conclude:—

Not only does occupation lead to equality, it PREVENTS property. For,
since every man, from the fact of his existence, has the right of
occupation, and, in order to live, must have material for cultivation on
which he may labor; and since, on the other hand, the number of occupants
varies continually with the births and deaths,—it follows that the
quantity of material which each laborer may claim varies with the number
of occupants; consequently, that occupation is always subordinate to
population. Finally, that, inasmuch as possession, in right, can never
remain fixed, it is impossible, in fact, that it can ever become property.

Every occupant is, then, necessarily a possessor or usufructuary,—a
function which excludes proprietorship. Now, this is the right of the
usufructuary: he is responsible for the thing entrusted to him; he must
use it in conformity with general utility, with a view to its preservation
and development; he has no power to transform it, to diminish it, or to
change its nature; he cannot so divide the usufruct that another shall
perform the labor while he receives the product. In a word, the
usufructuary is under the supervision of society, submitted to the
condition of labor and the law of equality.

Thus is annihilated the Roman definition of property—THE RIGHT OF
USE AND ABUSE—an immorality born of violence, the most monstrous
pretension that the civil laws ever sanctioned. Man receives his usufruct
from the hands of society, which alone is the permanent possessor. The
individual passes away, society is deathless.

What a profound disgust fills my soul while discussing such simple truths!
Do we doubt these things to-day? Will it be necessary to again take arms
for their triumph? And can force, in default of reason, alone introduce
them into our laws?

ALL HAVE AN EQUAL RIGHT OF OCCUPANCY.

THE AMOUNT OCCUPIED BEING MEASURED, NOT BY THE WILL, BUT BY THE VARIABLE
CONDITIONS OF SPACE AND NUMBER, PROPERTY CANNOT EXIST.

This no code has ever expressed; this no constitution can admit! These are
axioms which the civil law and the law of nations deny!…..

But I hear the exclamations of the partisans of another system: “Labor,
labor! that is the basis of property!”

Reader, do not be deceived. This new basis of property is worse than the
first, and I shall soon have to ask your pardon for having demonstrated
things clearer, and refuted pretensions more unjust, than any which we
have yet considered.

CHAPTER III. LABOR AS THE EFFICIENT CAUSE OF THE DOMAIN OF PROPERTY.

Nearly all the modern writers on jurisprudence, taking their cue from the
economists, have abandoned the theory of first occupancy as a too
dangerous one, and have adopted that which regards property as born of
labor. In this they are deluded; they reason in a circle. To labor it is
necessary to occupy, says M. Cousin.

Consequently, I have added in my turn, all having an equal right of
occupancy, to labor it is necessary to submit to equality. “The rich,”
exclaims Jean Jacques, “have the arrogance to say, ‘I built this wall; I
earned this land by my labor.’ Who set you the tasks? we may reply, and by
what right do you demand payment from us for labor which we did not impose
upon you?” All sophistry falls to the ground in the presence of this
argument.

But the partisans of labor do not see that their system is an absolute
contradiction of the Code, all the articles and provisions of which
suppose property to be based upon the fact of first occupancy. If labor,
through the appropriation which results from it, alone gives birth to
property, the Civil Code lies, the charter is a falsehood, our whole
social system is a violation of right. To this conclusion shall we come,
at the end of the discussion which is to occupy our attention in this
chapter and the following one, both as to the right of labor and the fact
of property. We shall see, on the one hand, our legislation in opposition
to itself; and, on the other hand, our new jurisprudence in opposition
both to its own principle and to our legislation.

I have asserted that the system which bases property upon labor implies,
no less than that which bases it upon occupation, the equality of
fortunes; and the reader must be impatient to learn how I propose to
deduce this law of equality from the inequality of skill and faculties:
directly his curiosity shall be satisfied. But it is proper that I should
call his attention for a moment to this remarkable feature of the process;
to wit, the substitution of labor for occupation as the principle of
property; and that I should pass rapidly in review some of the prejudices
to which proprietors are accustomed to appeal, which legislation has
sanctioned, and which the system of labor completely overthrows.

Reader, were you ever present at the examination of a criminal? Have you
watched his tricks, his turns, his evasions, his distinctions, his
equivocations? Beaten, all his assertions overthrown, pursued like a
fallow deer by the in exorable judge, tracked from hypothesis to
hypothesis,—he makes a statement, he corrects it, retracts it,
contradicts it, he exhausts all the tricks of dialectics, more subtle,
more ingenious a thousand times than he who invented the seventy-two forms
of the syllogism. So acts the proprietor when called upon to defend his
right. At first he refuses to reply, he exclaims, he threatens, he defies;
then, forced to accept the discussion, he arms himself with chicanery, he
surrounds himself with formidable artillery,—crossing his fire,
opposing one by one and all together occupation, possession, limitation,
covenants, immemorial custom, and universal consent. Conquered on this
ground, the proprietor, like a wounded boar, turns on his pursuers. “I
have done more than occupy,” he cries with terrible emotion; “I have
labored, produced, improved, transformed, CREATED. This house, these
fields, these trees are the work of my hands; I changed these brambles
into a vineyard, and this bush into a fig-tree; and to-day I reap the
harvest of my labors. I have enriched the soil with my sweat; I have paid
those men who, had they not had the work which I gave them, would have
died of hunger. No one shared with me the trouble and expense; no one
shall share with me the benefits.”

You have labored, proprietor! why then do you speak of original occupancy?
What, were you not sure of your right, or did you hope to deceive men, and
make justice an illusion? Make haste, then, to acquaint us with your mode
of defence, for the judgment will be final; and you know it to be a
question of restitution.

You have labored! but what is there in common between the labor which duty
compels you to perform, and the appropriation of things in which there is
a common interest? Do you not know that domain over the soil, like that
over air and light, cannot be lost by prescription?

You have labored! have you never made others labor? Why, then, have they
lost in laboring for you what you have gained in not laboring for them?

You have labored! very well; but let us see the results of your labor. We
will count, weigh, and measure them. It will be the judgment of Balthasar;
for I swear by balance, level, and square, that if you have appropriated
another’s labor in any way whatsoever, you shall restore it every stroke.

Thus, the principle of occupation is abandoned; no longer is it said, “The
land belongs to him who first gets possession of it.” Property, forced
into its first intrenchment, repudiates its old adage; justice, ashamed,
retracts her maxims, and sorrow lowers her bandage over her blushing
cheeks. And it was but yesterday that this progress in social philosophy
began: fifty centuries required for the extirpation of a lie! During this
lamentable period, how many usurpations have been sanctioned, how many
invasions glorified, how many conquests celebrated! The absent
dispossessed, the poor banished, the hungry excluded by wealth, which is
so ready and bold in action! Jealousies and wars, incendiarism and
bloodshed, among the nations! But henceforth, thanks to the age and its
spirit, it is to be admitted that the earth is not a prize to be won in a
race; in the absence of any other obstacle, there is a place for everybody
under the sun. Each one may harness his goat to the bearn, drive his
cattle to pasture, sow a corner of a field, and bake his bread by his own
fireside.

But, no; each one cannot do these things. I hear it proclaimed on all
sides, “Glory to labor and industry! to each according to his capacity; to
each capacity according to its results!” And I see three-fourths of the
human race again despoiled, the labor of a few being a scourge to the
labor of the rest.

“The problem is solved,” exclaims M. Hennequin. “Property, the daughter of
labor, can be enjoyed at present and in the future only under the
protection of the laws. It has its origin in natural law; it derives its
power from civil law; and from the union of these two ideas, LABOR and
PROTECTION, positive legislation results.”…

Ah! THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED! PROPERTY IS THE DAUGHTER OF LABOR! What, then,
is the right of accession, and the right of succession, and the right of
donation, &c., if not the right to become a proprietor by simple
occupancy? What are your laws concerning the age of majority,
emancipation, guardianship, and interdiction, if not the various
conditions by which he who is already a laborer gains or loses the right
of occupancy; that is, property?

Being unable, at this time, to enter upon a detailed discussion of the
Code, I shall content myself with examining the three arguments oftenest
resorted to in support of property. 1. APPROPRIATION, or the formation of
property by possession; 2. THE CONSENT OF MANKIND; 3. PRESCRIPTION. I
shall then inquire into the effects of labor upon the relative condition
of the laborers and upon property.

% 1.—The Land cannot be Appropriated.

“It would seem that lands capable of cultivation ought to be regarded as
natural wealth, since they are not of human creation, but Nature’s
gratuitous gift to man; but inasmuch as this wealth is not fugitive, like
the air and water,—inasmuch as a field is a fixed and limited space
which certain men have been able to appropriate, to the exclusion of all
others who in their turn have consented to this appropriation,—the
land, which was a natural and gratuitous gift, has become social wealth,
for the use of which we ought to pay.”—SAY: POLITICAL ECONOMY.

Was I wrong in saying, at the beginning of this chapter, that the
economists are the very worst authorities in matters of legislation and
philosophy? It is the FATHER of this class of men who clearly states the
question, How can the supplies of Nature, the wealth created by
Providence, become private property? and who replies by so gross an
equivocation that we scarcely know which the author lacks, sense or
honesty. What, I ask, has the fixed and solid nature of the earth to do
with the right of appropriation? I can understand that a thing LIMITED and
STATIONARY, like the land, offers greater chances for appropriation than
the water or the sunshine; that it is easier to exercise the right of
domain over the soil than over the atmosphere: but we are not dealing with
the difficulty of the thing, and Say confounds the right with the
possibility. We do not ask why the earth has been appropriated to a
greater extent than the sea and the air; we want to know by what right man
has appropriated wealth WHICH HE DID NOT CREATE, AND WHICH NATURE GAVE TO
HIM GRATUITOUSLY.

Say, then, did not solve the question which he asked. But if he had solved
it, if the explanation which he has given us were as satisfactory as it is
illogical, we should know no better than before who has a right to exact
payment for the use of the soil, of this wealth which is not man’s
handiwork. Who is entitled to the rent of the land? The producer of the
land, without doubt. Who made the land? God. Then, proprietor, retire!

But the creator of the land does not sell it: he gives it; and, in giving
it, he is no respecter of persons. Why, then, are some of his children
regarded as legitimate, while others are treated as bastards? If the
equality of shares was an original right, why is the inequality of
conditions a posthumous right?

Say gives us to understand that if the air and the water were not of a
FUGITIVE nature, they would have been appropriated. Let me observe in
passing that this is more than an hypothesis; it is a reality. Men have
appropriated the air and the water, I will not say as often as they could,
but as often as they have been allowed to.

The Portuguese, having discovered the route to India by the Cape of Good
Hope, pretended to have the sole right to that route; and Grotius,
consulted in regard to this matter by the Dutch who refused to recognize
this right, wrote expressly for this occasion his treatise on the “Freedom
of the Seas,” to prove that the sea is not liable to appropriation.

The right to hunt and fish used always to be confined to lords and
proprietors; to-day it is leased by the government and communes to whoever
can pay the license-fee and the rent. To regulate hunting and fishing is
an excellent idea, but to make it a subject of sale is to create a
monopoly of air and water.

What is a passport? A universal recommendation of the traveller’s person;
a certificate of security for himself and his property. The treasury,
whose nature it is to spoil the best things, has made the passport a means
of espionage and a tax. Is not this a sale of the right to travel?

Finally, it is permissible neither to draw water from a spring situated in
another’s grounds without the permission of the proprietor, because by the
right of accession the spring belongs to the possessor of the soil, if
there is no other claim; nor to pass a day on his premises without paying
a tax; nor to look at a court, a garden, or an orchard, without the
consent of the proprietor; nor to stroll in a park or an enclosure against
the owner’s will: every one is allowed to shut himself up and to fence
himself in. All these prohibitions are so many positive interdictions, not
only of the land, but of the air and water. We who belong to the
proletaire class: property excommunicates us! Terra, et aqua, et aere,
et igne interdicti sumus.

Men could not appropriate the most fixed of all the elements without
appropriating the three others; since, by French and Roman law, property
in the surface carries with it property from zenith to nadir—Cujus
est solum, ejus est usque ad caelum. Now, if the use of water, air,
and fire excludes property, so does the use of the soil. This chain of
reasoning seems to have been presented by M. Ch. Comte, in his “Treatise
on Property,” chap. 5.

“If a man should be deprived of air for a few moments only, he would cease
to exist, and a partial deprivation would cause him severe suffering; a
partial or complete deprivation of food would produce like effects upon
him though less suddenly; it would be the same, at least in certain
climates! were he deprived of all clothing and shelter…. To sustain
life, then, man needs continually to appropriate many different things.
But these things do not exist in like proportions. Some, such as the light
of the stars, the atmosphere of the earth, the water composing the seas
and oceans, exist in such large quantities that men cannot perceive any
sensible increase or diminution; each one can appropriate as much as his
needs require without detracting from the enjoyment of others, without
causing them the least harm. Things of this sort are, so to speak, the
common property of the human race; the only duty imposed upon each
individual in this regard is that of infringing not at all upon the rights
of others.”

Let us complete the argument of M. Ch. Comte. A man who should be
prohibited from walking in the highways, from resting in the fields, from
taking shelter in caves, from lighting fires, from picking berries, from
gathering herbs and boiling them in a bit of baked clay,—such a man
could not live. Consequently the earth—like water, air, and light—is
a primary object of necessity which each has a right to use freely,
without infringing another’s right. Why, then, is the earth appropriated?
M. Ch. Comte’s reply is a curious one. Say pretends that it is because it
is not FUGITIVE; M. Ch. Comte assures us that it is because it is not
INFINITE. The land is limited in amount. Then, according to M. Ch. Comte,
it ought to be appropriated. It would seem, on the contrary, that he ought
to say, Then it ought not to be appropriated. Because, no matter how large
a quantity of air or light any one appropriates, no one is damaged
thereby; there always remains enough for all. With the soil, it is very
different. Lay hold who will, or who can, of the sun’s rays, the passing
breeze, or the sea’s billows; he has my consent, and my pardon for his bad
intentions. But let any living man dare to change his right of territorial
possession into the right of property, and I will declare war upon him,
and wage it to the death!

M. Ch. Comte’s argument disproves his position. “Among the things
necessary to the preservation of life,” he says, “there are some which
exist in such large quantities that they are inexhaustible; others which
exist in lesser quantities, and can satisfy the wants of only a certain
number of persons. The former are called COMMON, the latter PRIVATE.”

This reasoning is not strictly logical. Water, air, and light are COMMON
things, not because they are INEXHAUSTIBLE, but because they are
INDISPENSABLE; and so indispensable that for that very reason Nature has
created them in quantities almost infinite, in order that their
plentifulness might prevent their appropriation. Likewise the land is
indispensable to our existence,—consequently a common thing,
consequently insusceptible of appropriation; but land is much scarcer than
the other elements, therefore its use must be regulated, not for the
profit of a few, but in the interest and for the security of all.

In a word, equality of rights is proved by equality of needs. Now,
equality of rights, in the case of a commodity which is limited in amount,
can be realized only by equality of possession. An agrarian law underlies
M. Ch. Comte’s arguments.

From whatever point we view this question of property—provided we go
to the bottom of it—we reach equality. I will not insist farther on
the distinction between things which can, and things which cannot, be
appropriated. On this point, economists and legists talk worse than
nonsense. The Civil Code, after having defined property, says nothing
about susceptibility of appropriation; and if it speaks of things which
are in THE MARKET, it always does so without enumerating or describing
them. However, light is not wanting. There are some few maxims such as
these: Ad reges potestas omnium pertinet, ad singulos proprietas; Omnia
rex imperio possidet, singula dominio. Social sovereignty opposed to
private property!—might not that be called a prophecy of equality, a
republican oracle? Examples crowd upon us: once the possessions of the
church, the estates of the crown, the fiefs of the nobility were
inalienable and imprescriptible. If, instead of abolishing this privilege,
the Constituent had extended it to every individual; if it had declared
that the right of labor, like liberty, can never be forfeited,—at
that moment the revolution would have been consummated, and we could now
devote ourselves to improvement in other directions.

% 2.—Universal Consent no Justification of Property.

In the extract from Say, quoted above, it is not clear whether the author
means to base the right of property on the stationary character of the
soil, or on the consent which he thinks all men have granted to this
appropriation. His language is such that it may mean either of these
things, or both at once; which entitles us to assume that the author
intended to say, “The right of property resulting originally from the
exercise of the will, the stability of the soil permitted it to be applied
to the land, and universal consent has since sanctioned this application.”

However that may be, can men legitimate property by mutual consent? I say,
no. Such a contract, though drafted by Grotius, Montesquieu, and J. J.
Rousseau, though signed by the whole human race, would be null in the eyes
of justice, and an act to enforce it would be illegal. Man can no more
give up labor than liberty. Now, to recognize the right of territorial
property is to give up labor, since it is to relinquish the means of
labor; it is to traffic in a natural right, and divest ourselves of
manhood.

But I wish that this consent, of which so much is made, had been given,
either tacitly or formally. What would have been the result? Evidently,
the surrenders would have been reciprocal; no right would have been
abandoned without the receipt of an equivalent in exchange. We thus come
back to equality again,—the sine qua non of appropriation; so that,
after having justified property by universal consent, that is, by
equality, we are obliged to justify the inequality of conditions by
property. Never shall we extricate ourselves from this dilemma. Indeed,
if, in the terms of the social compact, property has equality for its
condition, at the moment when equality ceases to exist, the compact is
broken and all property becomes usurpation. We gain nothing, then, by this
pretended consent of mankind.

% 3.—Prescription Gives No Title to Property.

The right of property was the origin of evil on the earth, the first link
in the long chain of crimes and misfortunes which the human race has
endured since its birth. The delusion of prescription is the fatal charm
thrown over the intellect, the death sentence breathed into the
conscience, to arrest man’s progress towards truth, and bolster up the
worship of error.

The Code defines prescription thus: “The process of gaining and losing
through the lapse of time.” In applying this definition to ideas and
beliefs, we may use the word PRESCRIPTION to denote the everlasting
prejudice in favor of old superstitions, whatever be their object; the
opposition, often furious and bloody, with which new light has always been
received, and which makes the sage a martyr. Not a principle, not a
discovery, not a generous thought but has met, at its entrance into the
world, with a formidable barrier of preconceived opinions, seeming like a
conspiracy of all old prejudices. Prescriptions against reason,
prescriptions against facts, prescriptions against every truth hitherto
unknown,—that is the sum and substance of the statu quo
philosophy, the watchword of conservatives throughout the centuries.

When the evangelical reform was broached to the world, there was
prescription in favor of violence, debauchery, and selfishness; when
Galileo, Descartes, Pascal, and their disciples reconstructed philosophy
and the sciences, there was prescription in favor of the Aristotelian
philosophy; when our fathers of ’89 demanded liberty and equality, there
was prescription in favor of tyranny and privilege. “There always have
been proprietors and there always will be:” it is with this profound
utterance, the final effort of selfishness dying in its last ditch, that
the friends of social inequality hope to repel the attacks of their
adversaries; thinking undoubtedly that ideas, like property, can be lost
by prescription.

Enlightened to-day by the triumphal march of science, taught by the most
glorious successes to question our own opinions, we receive with favor and
applause the observer of Nature, who, by a thousand experiments based upon
the most profound analysis, pursues a new principle, a law hitherto
undiscovered. We take care to repel no idea, no fact, under the pretext
that abler men than ourselves lived in former days, who did not notice the
same phenomena, nor grasp the same analogies. Why do we not preserve a
like attitude towards political and philosophical questions? Why this
ridiculous mania for affirming that every thing has been said, which means
that we know all about mental and moral science? Why is the proverb, THERE
IS NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN, applied exclusively to metaphysical
investigations?

Because we still study philosophy with the imagination, instead of by
observation and method; because fancy and will are universally regarded as
judges, in the place of arguments and facts,—it has been impossible
to this day to distinguish the charlatan from the philosopher, the savant
from the impostor. Since the days of Solomon and Pythagoras, imagination
has been exhausted in guessing out social and psychological laws; all
systems have been proposed. Looked at in this light, it is probably true
that EVERY THING HAS BEEN SAID; but it is no less true that EVERY THING
REMAINS TO BE PROVED. In politics (to take only this branch of
philosophy), in politics every one is governed in his choice of party by
his passion and his interests; the mind is submitted to the impositions of
the will,—there is no knowledge, there is not even a shadow of
certainty. In this way, general ignorance produces general tyranny; and
while liberty of thought is written in the charter, slavery of thought,
under the name of MAJORITY RULE, is decreed by the charter.

In order to confine myself to the civil prescription of which the Code
speaks, I shall refrain from beginning a discussion upon this worn-out
objection brought forward by proprietors; it would be too tiresome and
declamatory. Everybody knows that there are rights which cannot be
prescribed; and, as for those things which can be gained through the lapse
of time, no one is ignorant of the fact that prescription requires certain
conditions, the omission of one of which renders it null. If it is true,
for example, that the proprietor’s possession has been CIVIL, PUBLIC,
PEACEABLE, and UNINTERRUPTED, it is none the less true that it is not
based on a just title; since the only titles which it can show—occupation
and labor—prove as much for the proletaire who demands, as for the
proprietor who defends. Further, this possession is DISHONEST, since it is
founded on a violation of right, which prevents prescription, according to
the saying of St. Paul—Nunquam in usucapionibus juris error
possessori prodest. The violation of right lies either in the fact
that the holder possesses as proprietor, while he should possess only as
usufructuary; or in the fact that he has purchased a thing which no one
had a right to transfer or sell.

Another reason why prescription cannot be adduced in favor of property (a
reason borrowed from jurisprudence) is that the right to possess real
estate is a part of a universal right which has never been totally
destroyed even at the most critical periods; and the proletaire, in order
to regain the power to exercise it fully, has only to prove that he has
always exercised it in part.

He, for example, who has the universal right to possess, give, exchange,
loan, let, sell, transform, or destroy a thing, preserves the integrity of
this right by the sole act of loaning, though he has never shown his
authority in any other manner. Likewise we shall see that EQUALITY OF
POSSESSIONS, EQUALITY OF RIGHTS, LIBERTY, WILL, PERSONALITY, are so many
identical expressions of one and the same idea,—the RIGHT OF
PRESERVATION and DEVELOPMENT; in a word, the right of life, against which
there can be no prescription until the human race has vanished from the
face of the earth.

Finally, as to the time required for prescription, it would be superfluous
to show that the right of property in general cannot be acquired by simple
possession for ten, twenty, a hundred, a thousand, or one hundred thousand
years; and that, so long as there exists a human head capable of
understanding and combating the right of property, this right will never
be prescribed. For principles of jurisprudence and axioms of reason are
different from accidental and contingent facts. One man’s possession can
prescribe against another man’s possession; but just as the possessor
cannot prescribe against himself, so reason has always the faculty of
change and reformation. Past error is not binding on the future. Reason is
always the same eternal force. The institution of property, the work of
ignorant reason, may be abrogated by a more enlightened reason.
Consequently, property cannot be established by prescription. This is so
certain and so true, that on it rests the maxim that in the matter of
prescription a violation of right goes for nothing.

But I should be recreant to my method, and the reader would have the right
to accuse me of charlatanism and bad faith, if I had nothing further to
advance concerning prescription. I showed, in the first place, that
appropriation of land is illegal; and that, supposing it to be legal, it
must be accompanied by equality of property. I have shown, in the second
place, that universal consent proves nothing in favor of property; and
that, if it proves any thing, it proves equality of property. I have yet
to show that prescription, if admissible at all, presupposes equality of
property.

This demonstration will be neither long nor difficult. I need only to call
attention to the reasons why prescription was introduced.

“Prescription,” says Dunod, “seems repugnant to natural equity, which
permits no one either to deprive another of his possessions without his
knowledge and consent, or to enrich himself at another’s expense. But as
it might often happen, in the absence of prescription, that one who had
honestly earned would be ousted after long possession; and even that he
who had received a thing from its rightful owner, or who had been
legitimately relieved from all obligations, would, on losing his title, be
liable to be dispossessed or subjected again,—the public welfare
demanded that a term should be fixed, after the expiration of which no one
should be allowed to disturb actual possessors, or reassert rights too
long neglected…. The civil law, in regulating prescription, has aimed,
then, only to perfect natural law, and to supplement the law of nations;
and as it is founded on the public good, which should always be considered
before individual welfare,—bono publico usucapio introducta est,—it
should be regarded with favor, provided the conditions required by the law
are fulfilled.”

Toullier, in his “Civil Law,” says: “In order that the question of
proprietorship may not remain too long unsettled, and thereby injure the
public welfare, disturbing the peace of families and the stability of
social transactions, the law has fixed a time when all claims shall be
cancelled, and possession shall regain its ancient prerogative through its
transformation into property.”

Cassiodorus said of property, that it was the only safe harbor in which to
seek shelter from the tempests of chicanery and the gales of avarice—Hic
unus inter humanas pro cellas portus, quem si homines fervida voluntate
praeterierint; in undosis semper jurgiis errabunt.

Thus, in the opinion of the authors, prescription is a means of preserving
public order; a restoration in certain cases of the original mode of
acquiring property; a fiction of the civil law which derives all its force
from the necessity of settling differences which otherwise would never
end. For, as Grotius says, time has no power to produce effects; all
things happen in time, but nothing is done by time. Prescription, or the
right of acquisition through the lapse of time, is, therefore, a fiction
of the law, conventionally adopted.

But all property necessarily originated in prescription, or, as the Latins
say, in usucapion; that is, in continued possession.

I ask, then, in the first place, how possession can become property by the
lapse of time? Continue possession as long as you wish, continue it for
years and for centuries, you never can give duration—which of itself
creates nothing, changes nothing, modifies nothing—the power to
change the usufructuary into a proprietor. Let the civil law secure
against chance-comers the honest possessor who has held his position for
many years,—that only confirms a right already respected; and
prescription, applied in this way, simply means that possession which has
continued for twenty, thirty, or a hundred years shall be retained by the
occupant. But when the law declares that the lapse of time changes
possessor into proprietor, it supposes that a right can be created without
a producing cause; it unwarrantably alters the character of the subject;
it legislates on a matter not open to legislation; it exceeds its own
powers. Public order and private security ask only that possession shall
be protected. Why has the law created property? Prescription was simply
security for the future; why has the law made it a matter of privilege?

Thus the origin of prescription is identical with that of property itself;
and since the latter can legitimate itself only when accompanied by
equality, prescription is but another of the thousand forms which the
necessity of maintaining this precious equality has taken. And this is no
vain induction, no far-fetched inference. The proof is written in all the
codes.

And, indeed, if all nations, through their instinct of justice and their
conservative nature, have recognized the utility and the necessity of
prescription; and if their design has been to guard thereby the interests
of the possessor,—could they not do something for the absent
citizen, separated from his family and his country by commerce, war, or
captivity, and in no position to exercise his right of possession? No.
Also, at the same time that prescription was introduced into the laws, it
was admitted that property is preserved by intent alone,—nudo
animo. Now, if property is preserved by intent alone, if it can be
lost only by the action of the proprietor, what can be the use of
prescription? How does the law dare to presume that the proprietor, who
preserves by intent alone, intended to abandon that which he has allowed
to be prescribed? What lapse of time can warrant such a conjecture; and by
what right does the law punish the absence of the proprietor by depriving
him of his goods? What then! we found but a moment since that prescription
and property were identical; and now we find that they are mutually
destructive!

Grotius, who perceived this difficulty, replied so singularly that his
words deserve to be quoted: Bene sperandum de hominibus, ac propterea
non putandum eos hoc esse animo ut, rei caducae causa, hominem alterum
velint in perpetuo peccato versari, quo d evitari saepe non poterit sine
tali derelictione.

“Where is the man,” he says, “with so unchristian a soul that, for a
trifle, he would perpetuate the trespass of a possessor, which would
inevitably be the result if he did not consent to abandon his right?” By
the Eternal! I am that man. Though a million proprietors should burn for
it in hell, I lay the blame on them for depriving me of my portion of this
world’s goods. To this powerful consideration Grotius rejoins, that it is
better to abandon a disputed right than to go to law, disturb the peace of
nations, and stir up the flames of civil war. I accept, if you wish it,
this argument, provided you indemnify me. But if this indemnity is refused
me, what do I, a proletaire, care for the tranquillity and security of the
rich? I care as little for PUBLIC ORDER as for the proprietor’s safety. I
ask to live a laborer; otherwise I will die a warrior.

Whichever way we turn, we shall come to the conclusion that prescription
is a contradiction of property; or rather that prescription and property
are two forms of the same principle, but two forms which serve to correct
each other; and ancient and modern jurisprudence did not make the least of
its blunders in pretending to reconcile them. Indeed, if we see in the
institution of property only a desire to secure to each individual his
share of the soil and his right to labor; in the distinction between naked
property and possession only an asylum for absentees, orphans, and all who
do not know, or cannot maintain, their rights; in prescription only a
means, either of defence against unjust pretensions and encroachments, or
of settlement of the differences caused by the removal of possessors,—we
shall recognize in these various forms of human justice the spontaneous
efforts of the mind to come to the aid of the social instinct; we shall
see in this protection of all rights the sentiment of equality, a constant
levelling tendency. And, looking deeper, we shall find in the very
exaggeration of these principles the confirmation of our doctrine;
because, if equality of conditions and universal association are not soon
realized, it will be owing to the obstacle thrown for the time in the way
of the common sense of the people by the stupidity of legislators and
judges; and also to the fact that, while society in its original state was
illuminated with a flash of truth, the early speculations of its leaders
could bring forth nothing but darkness.

After the first covenants, after the first draughts of laws and
constitutions, which were the expression of man’s primary needs, the
legislator’s duty was to reform the errors of legislation; to complete
that which was defective; to harmonize, by superior definitions, those
things which seemed to conflict. Instead of that, they halted at the
literal meaning of the laws, content to play the subordinate part of
commentators and scholiasts. Taking the inspirations of the human mind, at
that time necessarily weak and faulty, for axioms of eternal and
unquestionable truth,—influenced by public opinion, enslaved by the
popular religion,—they have invariably started with the principle
(following in this respect the example of the theologians) that that is
infallibly true which has been admitted by all persons, in all places, and
at all times—quod ab omnibus, quod ubique, quod semper; as if
a general but spontaneous opinion was any thing more than an indication of
the truth. Let us not be deceived: the opinion of all nations may serve to
authenticate the perception of a fact, the vague sentiment of a law; it
can teach us nothing about either fact or law. The consent of mankind is
an indication of Nature; not, as Cicero says, a law of Nature. Under the
indication is hidden the truth, which faith can believe, but only thought
can know. Such has been the constant progress of the human mind in regard
to physical phenomena and the creations of genius: how can it be otherwise
with the facts of conscience and the rules of human conduct?

% 4.—Labor—That Labor Has No Inherent Power to Appropriate
Natural Wealth.

We shall show by the maxims of political economy and law, that is, by the
authorities recognized by property,—

1. That labor has no inherent power to appropriate natural wealth.

2. That, if we admit that labor has this power, we are led directly to
equality of property,—whatever the kind of labor, however scarce the
product, or unequal the ability of the laborers.

3. That, in the order of justice, labor DESTROYS property.

Following the example of our opponents, and that we may leave no obstacles
in the path, let us examine the question in the strongest possible light.

M. Ch. Comte says, in his “Treatise on Property:”—

“France, considered as a nation, has a territory which is her own.”

France, as an individuality, possesses a territory which she cultivates;
it is not her property. Nations are related to each other as individuals
are: they are commoners and workers; it is an abuse of language to call
them proprietors. The right of use and abuse belongs no more to nations
than to men; and the time will come when a war waged for the purpose of
checking a nation in its abuse of the soil will be regarded as a holy war.

Thus, M. Ch. Comte—who undertakes to explain how property comes into
existence, and who starts with the supposition that a nation is a
proprietor—falls into that error known as BEGGING THE QUESTION; a
mistake which vitiates his whole argument.

If the reader thinks it is pushing logic too far to question a nation’s
right of property in the territory which it possesses, I will simply
remind him of the fact that at all ages the results of the fictitious
right of national property have been pretensions to suzerainty, tributes,
monarchical privileges, statute-labor, quotas of men and money, supplies
of merchandise, &c.; ending finally in refusals to pay taxes,
insurrections, wars, and depopulations.

“Scattered through this territory are extended tracts of land, which have
not been converted into individual property. These lands, which consist
mainly of forests, belong to the whole population, and the government,
which receives the revenues, uses or ought to use them in the interest of
all.”

OUGHT TO USE is well said: a lie is avoided thereby.

“Let them be offered for sale….”

Why offered for sale? Who has a right to sell them? Even were the nation
proprietor, can the generation of to-day dispossess the generation of
to-morrow? The nation, in its function of usufructuary, possesses them;
the government rules, superintends, and protects them. If it also granted
lands, it could grant only their use; it has no right to sell them or
transfer them in any way whatever. Not being a proprietor, how can it
transmit property?

“Suppose some industrious man buys a portion, a large swamp for example.
This would be no usurpation, since the public would receive the exact
value through the hands of the government, and would be as rich after the
sale as before.”

How ridiculous! What! because a prodigal, imprudent, incompetent official
sells the State’s possessions, while I, a ward of the State,—I who
have neither an advisory nor a deliberative voice in the State councils,—while
I am allowed to make no opposition to the sale, this sale is right and
legal! The guardians of the nation waste its substance, and it has no
redress! I have received, you tell me, through the hands of the government
my share of the proceeds of the sale: but, in the first place, I did not
wish to sell; and, had I wished to, I could not have sold. I had not the
right. And then I do not see that I am benefited by the sale. My guardians
have dressed up some soldiers, repaired an old fortress, erected in their
pride some costly but worthless monument,—then they have exploded
some fireworks and set up a greased pole! What does all that amount to in
comparison with my loss?

The purchaser draws boundaries, fences himself in, and says, “This is
mine; each one by himself, each one for himself.” Here, then, is a piece
of land upon which, henceforth, no one has a right to step, save the
proprietor and his friends; which can benefit nobody, save the proprietor
and his servants. Let these sales multiply, and soon the people—who
have been neither able nor willing to sell, and who have received none of
the proceeds of the sale—will have nowhere to rest, no place of
shelter, no ground to till. They will die of hunger at the proprietor’s
door, on the edge of that property which was their birthright; and the
proprietor, watching them die, will exclaim, “So perish idlers and
vagrants!”

To reconcile us to the proprietor’s usurpation, M. Ch. Comte assumes the
lands to be of little value at the time of sale.

“The importance of these usurpations should not be exaggerated: they
should be measured by the number of men which the occupied land would
support, and by the means which it would furnish them.

“It is evident, for instance, that if a piece of land which is worth
to-day one thousand francs was worth only five centimes when it was
usurped, we really lose only the value of five centimes. A square league
of earth would be hardly sufficient to support a savage in distress;
to-day it supplies one thousand persons with the means of existence. Nine
hundred and ninety-nine parts of this land is the legitimate property of
the possessors; only one-thousandth of the value has been usurped.”

A peasant admitted one day, at confession, that he had destroyed a
document which declared him a debtor to the amount of three hundred
francs. Said the father confessor, “You must return these three hundred
francs.” “No,” replied the peasant, “I will return a penny to pay for the
paper.”

M. Ch. Comte’s logic resembles this peasant’s honesty. The soil has not
only an integrant and actual value, it has also a potential value,—a
value of the future,—which depends on our ability to make it
valuable, and to employ it in our work. Destroy a bill of exchange, a
promissory note, an annuity deed,—as a paper you destroy almost no
value at all; but with this paper you destroy your title, and, in losing
your title, you deprive yourself of your goods. Destroy the land, or, what
is the same thing, sell it,—you not only transfer one, two, or
several crops, but you annihilate all the products that you could derive
from it; you and your children and your children’s children.

When M. Ch. Comte, the apostle of property and the eulogist of labor,
supposes an alienation of the soil on the part of the government, we must
not think that he does so without reason and for no purpose; it is a
necessary part of his position. As he rejected the theory of occupancy,
and as he knew, moreover, that labor could not constitute the right in the
absence of a previous permission to occupy, he was obliged to connect this
permission with the authority of the government, which means that property
is based upon the sovereignty of the people; in other words, upon
universal consent. This theory we have already considered.

To say that property is the daughter of labor, and then to give labor
material on which to exercise itself, is, if I am not mistaken, to reason
in a circle. Contradictions will result from it.

“A piece of land of a certain size produces food enough to supply a man
for one day. If the possessor, through his labor, discovers some method of
making it produce enough for two days, he doubles its value. This new
value is his work, his creation: it is taken from nobody; it is his
property.”

I maintain that the possessor is paid for his trouble and industry in his
doubled crop, but that he acquires no right to the land. “Let the laborer
have the fruits of his labor.” Very good; but I do not understand that
property in products carries with it property in raw material. Does the
skill of the fisherman, who on the same coast can catch more fish than his
fellows, make him proprietor of the fishing-grounds? Can the expertness of
a hunter ever be regarded as a property-title to a game-forest? The
analogy is perfect,—the industrious cultivator finds the reward of
his industry in the abundancy and superiority of his crop. If he has made
improvements in the soil, he has the possessor’s right of preference.
Never, under any circumstances, can he be allowed to claim a
property-title to the soil which he cultivates, on the ground of his skill
as a cultivator.

To change possession into property, something is needed besides labor,
without which a man would cease to be proprietor as soon as he ceased to
be a laborer. Now, the law bases property upon immemorial, unquestionable
possession; that is, prescription. Labor is only the sensible sign, the
physical act, by which occupation is manifested. If, then, the cultivator
remains proprietor after he has ceased to labor and produce; if his
possession, first conceded, then tolerated, finally becomes inalienable,—it
happens by permission of the civil law, and by virtue of the principle of
occupancy. So true is this, that there is not a bill of sale, not a farm
lease, not an annuity, but implies it. I will quote only one example.

How do we measure the value of land? By its product. If a piece of land
yields one thousand francs, we say that at five per cent. it is worth
twenty thousand francs; at four per cent. twenty-five thousand francs,
&c.; which means, in other words, that in twenty or twenty-five years’
time the purchaser would recover in full the amount originally paid for
the land. If, then, after a certain length of time, the price of a piece
of land has been wholly recovered, why does the purchaser continue to be
proprietor? Because of the right of occupancy, in the absence of which
every sale would be a redemption.

The theory of appropriation by labor is, then, a contradiction of the
Code; and when the partisans of this theory pretend to explain the laws
thereby, they contradict themselves.

“If men succeed in fertilizing land hitherto unproductive, or even
death-producing, like certain swamps, they create thereby property in all
its completeness.”

What good does it do to magnify an expression, and play with
equivocations, as if we expected to change the reality thereby? THEY
CREATE PROPERTY IN ALL ITS COMPLETENESS. You mean that they create a
productive capacity which formerly did not exist; but this capacity cannot
be created without material to support it. The substance of the soil
remains the same; only its qualities and modifications are changed. Man
has created every thing—every thing save the material itself. Now, I
maintain that this material he can only possess and use, on condition of
permanent labor,—granting, for the time being, his right of property
in things which he has produced.

This, then, is the first point settled: property in product, if we grant
so much, does not carry with it property in the means of production; that
seems to me to need no further demonstration. There is no difference
between the soldier who possesses his arms, the mason who possesses the
materials committed to his care, the fisherman who possesses the water,
the hunter who possesses the fields and forests, and the cultivator who
possesses the lands: all, if you say so, are proprietors of their products—not
one is proprietor of the means of production. The right to product is
exclusive—jus in re; the right to means is common—jus ad rem.

% 5.—That Labor leads to Equality of Property.

Admit, however, that labor gives a right of property in material.

Why is not this principle universal? Why is the benefit of this pretended
law confined to a few and denied to the mass of laborers? A philosopher,
arguing that all animals sprang up formerly out of the earth warmed by the
rays of the sun, almost like mushrooms, on being asked why the earth no
longer yielded crops of that nature, replied: “Because it is old, and has
lost its fertility.” Has labor, once so fecund, likewise become sterile?
Why does the tenant no longer acquire through his labor the land which was
formerly acquired by the labor of the proprietor?

“Because,” they say, “it is already appropriated.” That is no answer. A
farm yields fifty bushels per hectare; the skill and labor of the tenant
double this product: the increase is created by the tenant. Suppose the
owner, in a spirit of moderation rarely met with, does not go to the
extent of absorbing this product by raising the rent, but allows the
cultivator to enjoy the results of his labor; even then justice is not
satisfied. The tenant, by improving the land, has imparted a new value to
the property; he, therefore, has a right to a part of the property. If the
farm was originally worth one hundred thousand francs, and if by the labor
of the tenant its value has risen to one hundred and fifty thousand
francs, the tenant, who produced this extra value, is the legitimate
proprietor of one-third of the farm. M. Ch. Comte could not have
pronounced this doctrine false, for it was he who said:—

“Men who increase the fertility of the earth are no less useful to their
fellow-men, than if they should create new land.”

Why, then, is not this rule applicable to the man who improves the land,
as well as to him who clears it? The labor of the former makes the land
worth one; that of the latter makes it worth two: both create equal
values. Why not accord to both equal property? I defy any one to refute
this argument, without again falling back on the right of first occupancy.

“But,” it will be said, “even if your wish should be granted, property
would not be distributed much more evenly than now. Land does not go on
increasing in value for ever; after two or three seasons it attains its
maximum fertility. That which is added by the agricultural art results
rather from the progress of science and the diffusion of knowledge, than
from the skill of the cultivator. Consequently, the addition of a few
laborers to the mass of proprietors would be no argument against
property.”

This discussion would, indeed, prove a well-nigh useless one, if our
labors culminated in simply extending land-privilege and industrial
monopoly; in emancipating only a few hundred laborers out of the millions
of proletaires. But this also is a misconception of our real thought, and
does but prove the general lack of intelligence and logic.

If the laborer, who adds to the value of a thing, has a right of property
in it, he who maintains this value acquires the same right. For what is
maintenance? It is incessant addition,—continuous creation. What is
it to cultivate? It is to give the soil its value every year; it is, by
annually renewed creation, to prevent the diminution or destruction of the
value of a piece of land. Admitting, then, that property is rational and
legitimate,—admitting that rent is equitable and just,—I say
that he who cultivates acquires property by as good a title as he who
clears, or he who improves; and that every time a tenant pays his rent, he
obtains a fraction of property in the land entrusted to his care, the
denominator of which is equal to the proportion of rent paid. Unless you
admit this, you fall into absolutism and tyranny; you recognize class
privileges; you sanction slavery.

Whoever labors becomes a proprietor—this is an inevitable deduction
from the acknowledged principles of political economy and jurisprudence.
And when I say proprietor, I do not mean simply (as do our hypocritical
economists) proprietor of his allowance, his salary, his wages,—I
mean proprietor of the value which he creates, and by which the master
alone profits.

As all this relates to the theory of wages and of the distribution of
products,—and as this matter never has been even partially cleared
up,—I ask permission to insist on it: this discussion will not be
useless to the work in hand. Many persons talk of admitting working-people
to a share in the products and profits; but in their minds this
participation is pure benevolence: they have never shown—perhaps
never suspected—that it was a natural, necessary right, inherent in
labor, and inseparable from the function of producer, even in the lowest
forms of his work.

This is my proposition: THE LABORER RETAINS, EVEN AFTER HE HAS RECEIVED
HIS WAGES, A NATURAL RIGHT OF PROPERTY IN THE THING WHICH HE HAS PRODUCED.

I again quote M. Ch. Comte:—

“Some laborers are employed in draining marshes, in cutting down trees and
brushwood,—in a word, in cleaning up the soil. They increase the
value, they make the amount of property larger; they are paid for the
value which they add in the form of food and daily wages: it then becomes
the property of the capitalist.”

The price is not sufficient: the labor of the workers has created a value;
now this value is their property. But they have neither sold nor exchanged
it; and you, capitalist, you have not earned it. That you should have a
partial right to the whole, in return for the materials that you have
furnished and the provisions that you have supplied, is perfectly just.
You contributed to the production, you ought to share in the enjoyment.
But your right does not annihilate that of the laborers, who, in spite of
you, have been your colleagues in the work of production. Why do you talk
of wages? The money with which you pay the wages of the laborers
remunerates them for only a few years of the perpetual possession which
they have abandoned to you. Wages is the cost of the daily maintenance and
refreshment of the laborer. You are wrong in calling it the price of a
sale. The workingman has sold nothing; he knows neither his right, nor the
extent of the concession which he has made to you, nor the meaning of the
contract which you pretend to have made with him. On his side, utter
ignorance; on yours, error and surprise, not to say deceit and fraud.

Let us make this clearer by another and more striking example.

No one is ignorant of the difficulties that are met with in the conversion
of untilled land into arable and productive land. These difficulties are
so great, that usually an isolated man would perish before he could put
the soil in a condition to yield him even the most meagre living. To that
end are needed the united and combined efforts of society, and all the
resources of industry. M. Ch. Comte quotes on this subject numerous and
well-authenticated facts, little thinking that he is amassing testimony
against his own system.

Let us suppose that a colony of twenty or thirty families establishes
itself in a wild district, covered with underbrush and forests; and from
which, by agreement, the natives consent to withdraw. Each one of these
families possesses a moderate but sufficient amount of capital, of such a
nature as a colonist would be apt to choose,—animals, seeds, tools,
and a little money and food. The land having been divided, each one
settles himself as comfortably as possible, and begins to clear away the
portion allotted to him. But after a few weeks of fatigue, such as they
never before have known, of inconceivable suffering, of ruinous and almost
useless labor, our colonists begin to complain of their trade; their
condition seems hard to them; they curse their sad existence.

Suddenly, one of the shrewdest among them kills a pig, cures a part of the
meat; and, resolved to sacrifice the rest of his provisions, goes to find
his companions in misery. “Friends,” he begins in a very benevolent tone,
“how much trouble it costs you to do a little work and live uncomfortably!
A fortnight of labor has reduced you to your last extremity!… Let us
make an arrangement by which you shall all profit. I offer you provisions
and wine: you shall get so much every day; we will work together, and,
zounds! my friends, we will be happy and contented!”

Would it be possible for empty stomachs to resist such an invitation? The
hungriest of them follow the treacherous tempter. They go to work; the
charm of society, emulation, joy, and mutual assistance double their
strength; the work can be seen to advance. Singing and laughing, they
subdue Nature. In a short time, the soil is thoroughly changed; the
mellowed earth waits only for the seed. That done, the proprietor pays his
laborers, who, on going away, return him their thanks, and grieve that the
happy days which they have spent with him are over.

Others follow this example, always with the same success. Then, these
installed, the rest disperse,—each one returns to his grubbing. But,
while grubbing, it is necessary to live. While they have been clearing
away for their neighbor, they have done no clearing for themselves. One
year’s seed-time and harvest is already gone. They had calculated that in
lending their labor they could not but gain, since they would save their
own provisions; and, while living better, would get still more money.
False calculation! they have created for another the means wherewith to
produce, and have created nothing for themselves. The difficulties of
clearing remain the same; their clothing wears out, their provisions give
out; soon their purse becomes empty for the profit of the individual for
whom they have worked, and who alone can furnish the provisions which they
need, since he alone is in a position to produce them. Then, when the poor
grubber has exhausted his resources, the man with the provisions (like the
wolf in the fable, who scents his victim from afar) again comes forward.
One he offers to employ again by the day; from another he offers to buy at
a favorable price a piece of his bad land, which is not, and never can be,
of any use to him: that is, he uses the labor of one man to cultivate the
field of another for his own benefit. So that at the end of twenty years,
of thirty individuals originally equal in point of wealth, five or six
have become proprietors of the whole district, while the rest have been
philanthropically dispossessed!

In this century of bourgeoisie morality, in which I have had the honor to
be born, the moral sense is so debased that I should not be at all
surprised if I were asked, by many a worthy proprietor, what I see in this
that is unjust and illegitimate? Debased creature! galvanized corpse! how
can I expect to convince you, if you cannot tell robbery when I show it to
you? A man, by soft and insinuating words, discovers the secret of taxing
others that he may establish himself; then, once enriched by their united
efforts, he refuses, on the very conditions which he himself dictated, to
advance the well-being of those who made his fortune for him: and you ask
how such conduct is fraudulent! Under the pretext that he has paid his
laborers, that he owes them nothing more, that he has nothing to gain by
putting himself at the service of others, while his own occupations claim
his attention,—he refuses, I say, to aid others in getting a
foothold, as he was aided in getting his own; and when, in the impotence
of their isolation, these poor laborers are compelled to sell their
birthright, he—this ungrateful proprietor, this knavish upstart—stands
ready to put the finishing touch to their deprivation and their ruin. And
you think that just? Take care!

I read in your startled countenance the reproach of a guilty conscience,
much more clearly than the innocent astonishment of involuntary ignorance.

“The capitalist,” they say, “has paid the laborers their DAILY WAGES.” To
be accurate, it must be said that the capitalist has paid as many times
one day’s wage as he has employed laborers each day,—which is not at
all the same thing. For he has paid nothing for that immense power which
results from the union and harmony of laborers, and the convergence and
simultaneousness of their efforts. Two hundred grenadiers stood the
obelisk of Luxor upon its base in a few hours; do you suppose that one man
could have accomplished the same task in two hundred days? Nevertheless,
on the books of the capitalist, the amount of wages paid would have been
the same. Well, a desert to prepare for cultivation, a house to build, a
factory to run,—all these are obelisks to erect, mountains to move.
The smallest fortune, the most insignificant establishment, the setting in
motion of the lowest industry, demand the concurrence of so many different
kinds of labor and skill, that one man could not possibly execute the
whole of them. It is astonishing that the economists never have called
attention to this fact. Strike a balance, then, between the capitalist’s
receipts and his payments.

The laborer needs a salary which will enable him to live while he works;
for unless he consumes, he cannot produce. Whoever employs a man owes him
maintenance and support, or wages enough to procure the same. That is the
first thing to be done in all production. I admit, for the moment, that in
this respect the capitalist has discharged his duty.

It is necessary that the laborer should find in his production, in
addition to his present support, a guarantee of his future support;
otherwise the source of production would dry up, and his productive
capacity would become exhausted: in other words, the labor accomplished
must give birth perpetually to new labor—such is the universal law
of reproduction. In this way, the proprietor of a farm finds: 1. In his
crops, means, not only of supporting himself and his family, but of
maintaining and improving his capital, of feeding his live-stock—in
a word, means of new labor and continual reproduction; 2. In his ownership
of a productive agency, a permanent basis of cultivation and labor.

But he who lends his services,—what is his basis of cultivation?

The proprietor’s presumed need of him, and the unwarranted supposition
that he wishes to employ him. Just as the commoner once held his land by
the munificence and condescension of the lord, so to-day the working-man
holds his labor by the condescension and necessities of the master and
proprietor: that is what is called possession by a precarious 15
title. But this precarious condition is an injustice, for it implies an
inequality in the bargain. The laborer’s wages exceed but little his
running expenses, and do not assure him wages for to-morrow; while the
capitalist finds in the instrument produced by the laborer a pledge of
independence and security for the future.

Now, this reproductive leaven—this eternal germ of life, this
preparation of the land and manufacture of implements for production—constitutes
the debt of the capitalist to the producer, which he never pays; and it is
this fraudulent denial which causes the poverty of the laborer, the luxury
of idleness, and the inequality of conditions. This it is, above all other
things, which has been so fitly named the exploitation of man by man.

One of three things must be done. Either the laborer must be given a
portion of the product in addition to his wages; or the employer must
render the laborer an equivalent in productive service; or else he must
pledge himself to employ him for ever. Division of the product,
reciprocity of service, or guarantee of perpetual labor,—from the
adoption of one of these courses the capitalist cannot escape. But it is
evident that he cannot satisfy the second and third of these conditions—he
can neither put himself at the service of the thousands of working-men,
who, directly or indirectly, have aided him in establishing himself, nor
employ them all for ever. He has no other course left him, then, but a
division of the property. But if the property is divided, all conditions
will be equal—there will be no more large capitalists or large
proprietors.

Consequently, when M. Ch. Comte—following out his hypothesis—shows
us his capitalist acquiring one after another the products of his
employees’ labor, he sinks deeper and deeper into the mire; and, as his
argument does not change, our reply of course remains the same.

“Other laborers are employed in building: some quarry the stone, others
transport it, others cut it, and still others put it in place. Each of
them adds a certain value to the material which passes through his hands;
and this value, the product of his labor, is his property. He sells it, as
fast as he creates it, to the proprietor of the building, who pays him for
it in food and wages.”

Divide et impera—divide, and you shall command; divide, and
you shall grow rich; divide, and you shall deceive men, you shall daze
their minds, you shall mock at justice! Separate laborers from each other,
perhaps each one’s daily wage exceeds the value of each individual’s
product; but that is not the question under consideration. A force of one
thousand men working twenty days has been paid the same wages that one
would be paid for working fifty-five years; but this force of one thousand
has done in twenty days what a single man could not have accomplished,
though he had labored for a million centuries. Is the exchange an
equitable one? Once more, no; when you have paid all the individual
forces, the collective force still remains to be paid.

Consequently, there remains always a right of collective property which
you have not acquired, and which you enjoy unjustly.

Admit that twenty days’ wages suffice to feed, lodge, and clothe this
multitude for twenty days: thrown out of employment at the end of that
time, what will become of them, if, as fast as they create, they abandon
their creations to the proprietors who will soon discharge them? While the
proprietor, firm in his position (thanks to the aid of all the laborers),
dwells in security, and fears no lack of labor or bread, the laborer’s
only dependence is upon the benevolence of this same proprietor, to whom
he has sold and surrendered his liberty. If, then, the proprietor,
shielding himself behind his comfort and his rights, refuses to employ the
laborer, how can the laborer live? He has ploughed an excellent field, and
cannot sow it; he has built an elegant and commodious house, and cannot
live in it; he has produced all, and can enjoy nothing.

Labor leads us to equality. Every step that we take brings us nearer to
it; and if laborers had equal strength, diligence, and industry, clearly
their fortunes would be equal also. Indeed, if, as is pretended,—and
as we have admitted,—the laborer is proprietor of the value which he
creates, it follows:—

1. That the laborer acquires at the expense of the idle proprietor;

2. That all production being necessarily collective, the laborer is
entitled to a share of the products and profits commensurate with his
labor;

3. That all accumulated capital being social property, no one can be its
exclusive proprietor.

These inferences are unavoidable; these alone would suffice to
revolutionize our whole economical system, and change our institutions and
our laws. Why do the very persons, who laid down this principle, now
refuse to be guided by it? Why do the Says, the Comtes, the Hennequins,
and others—after having said that property is born of labor—seek
to fix it by occupation and prescription?

But let us leave these sophists to their contradictions and blindness. The
good sense of the people will do justice to their equivocations. Let us
make haste to enlighten it, and show it the true path. Equality
approaches; already between it and us but a short distance intervenes:
to-morrow even this distance will have been traversed.

% 6.—That in Society all Wages are Equal.

When the St. Simonians, the Fourierists, and, in general, all who in our
day are connected with social economy and reform, inscribe upon their
banner,—

“TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS CAPACITY, TO EACH CAPACITY ACCORDING TO ITS
RESULTS” (St. Simon);

“TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS CAPITAL, HIS LABOR, AND HIS SKILL” (Fourier),—

they mean—although they do not say so in so many words—that
the products of Nature procured by labor and industry are a reward, a
palm, a crown offered to all kinds of preeminence and superiority. They
regard the land as an immense arena in which prizes are contended for,—no
longer, it is true, with lances and swords, by force and by treachery; but
by acquired wealth, by knowledge, talent, and by virtue itself. In a word,
they mean—and everybody agrees with them—that the greatest
capacity is entitled to the greatest reward; and, to use the mercantile
phraseology,—which has, at least, the merit of being
straightforward,—that salaries must be governed by capacity and its
results.

The disciples of these two self-styled reformers cannot deny that such is
their thought; for, in doing so, they would contradict their official
interpretations, and would destroy the unity of their systems.
Furthermore, such a denial on their part is not to be feared. The two
sects glory in laying down as a principle inequality of conditions,—reasoning
from Nature, who, they say, intended the inequality of capacities. They
boast only of one thing; namely, that their political system is so
perfect, that the social inequalities always correspond with the natural
inequalities. They no more trouble themselves to inquire whether
inequality of conditions—I mean of salaries—is possible, than
they do to fix a measure of capacity.[*]

Clearly, the great man is an object of ridicule to the reader; he did not
mean to tell his secret.

“To each according to his capacity, to each capacity according to its
results.”

“To each according to his capital, his labor, and his skill.”

Since the death of St. Simon and Fourier, not one among their numerous
disciples has attempted to give to the public a scientific demonstration
of this grand maxim; and I would wager a hundred to one that no Fourierist
even suspects that this biform aphorism is susceptible of two
interpretations.

“To each according to his capacity, to each capacity according to its
results.”

“To each according to his capital, his labor, and his skill.”

This proposition, taken, as they say, in sensu obvio—in the
sense usually attributed to it—is false, absurd, unjust,
contradictory, hostile to liberty, friendly to tyranny, anti-social, and
was unluckily framed under the express influence of the property idea.

And, first, CAPITAL must be crossed off the list of elements which are
entitled to a reward. The Fourierists—as far as I have been able to
learn from a few of their pamphlets—deny the right of occupancy, and
recognize no basis of property save labor. Starting with a like premise,
they would have seen—had they reasoned upon the matter—that
capital is a source of production to its proprietor only by virtue of the
right of occupancy, and that this production is therefore illegitimate.
Indeed, if labor is the sole basis of property, I cease to be proprietor
of my field as soon as I receive rent for it from another. This we have
shown beyond all cavil. It is the same with all capital; so that to put
capital in an enterprise, is, by the law’s decision, to exchange it for an
equivalent sum in products. I will not enter again upon this now useless
discussion, since I propose, in the following chapter, to exhaust the
subject of PRODUCTION BY CAPITAL.

Thus, capital can be exchanged, but cannot be a source of income.

LABOR and SKILL remain; or, as St. Simon puts it, RESULTS and CAPACITIES.
I will examine them successively.

Should wages be governed by labor? In other words, is it just that he who
does the most should get the most? I beg the reader to pay the closest
attention to this point.

To solve the problem with one stroke, we have only to ask ourselves the
following question: “Is labor a CONDITION or a STRUGGLE?” The reply seems
plain.

God said to man, “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,”—that
is, thou shalt produce thy own bread: with more or less ease, according to
thy skill in directing and combining thy efforts, thou shalt labor. God
did not say, “Thou shalt quarrel with thy neighbor for thy bread;” but,
“Thou shalt labor by the side of thy neighbor, and ye shall dwell together
in harmony.” Let us develop the meaning of this law, the extreme
simplicity of which renders it liable to misconstruction.

In labor, two things must be noticed and distinguished: ASSOCIATION and
AVAILABLE MATERIAL.

In so far as laborers are associated, they are equal; and it involves a
contradiction to say that one should be paid more than another. For, as
the product of one laborer can be paid for only in the product of another
laborer, if the two products are unequal, the remainder—or the
difference between the greater and the smaller—will not be acquired
by society; and, therefore, not being exchanged, will not affect the
equality of wages. There will result, it is true, in favor of the stronger
laborer a natural inequality, but not a social inequality; no one having
suffered by his strength and productive energy. In a word, society
exchanges only equal products—that is, rewards no labor save that
performed for her benefit; consequently, she pays all laborers equally:
with what they produce outside of her sphere she has no more to do, than
with the difference in their voices and their hair.

I seem to be positing the principle of inequality: the reverse of this is
the truth. The total amount of labor which can be performed for society
(that is, of labor susceptible of exchange), being, within a given space,
as much greater as the laborers are more numerous, and as the task
assigned to each is less in magnitude,—it follows that natural
inequality neutralizes itself in proportion as association extends, and as
the quantity of consumable values produced thereby increases. So that in
society the only thing which could bring back the inequality of labor
would be the right of occupancy,—the right of property.

Now, suppose that this daily social task consists in the ploughing,
hoeing, or reaping of two square decameters, and that the average time
required to accomplish it is seven hours: one laborer will finish it in
six hours, another will require eight; the majority, however, will work
seven. But provided each one furnishes the quantity of labor demanded of
him, whatever be the time he employs, they are entitled to equal wages.

Shall the laborer who is capable of finishing his task in six hours have
the right, on the ground of superior strength and activity, to usurp the
task of the less skilful laborer, and thus rob him of his labor and bread?
Who dares maintain such a proposition? He who finishes before the others
may rest, if he chooses; he may devote himself to useful exercise and
labors for the maintenance of his strength, and the culture of his mind,
and the pleasure of his life. This he can do without injury to any one:
but let him confine himself to services which affect him solely. Vigor,
genius, diligence, and all the personal advantages which result therefrom,
are the work of Nature and, to a certain extent, of the individual;
society awards them the esteem which they merit: but the wages which it
pays them is measured, not by their power, but by their production. Now,
the product of each is limited by the right of all.

If the soil were infinite in extent, and the amount of available material
were exhaustless, even then we could not accept this maxim,—TO EACH
ACCORDING TO HIS LABOR. And why? Because society, I repeat, whatever be
the number of its subjects, is forced to pay them all the same wages,
since she pays them only in their own products. Only, on the hypothesis
just made, inasmuch as the strong cannot be prevented from using all their
advantages, the inconveniences of natural inequality would reappear in the
very bosom of social equality. But the land, considering the productive
power of its inhabitants and their ability to multiply, is very limited;
further, by the immense variety of products and the extreme division of
labor, the social task is made easy of accomplishment. Now, through this
limitation of things producible, and through the ease of producing them,
the law of absolute equality takes effect.

Yes, life is a struggle. But this struggle is not between man and man—it
is between man and Nature; and it is each one’s duty to take his share in
it. If, in the struggle, the strong come to the aid of the weak, their
kindness deserves praise and love; but their aid must be accepted as a
free gift,—not imposed by force, nor offered at a price. All have
the same career before them, neither too long nor too difficult; whoever
finishes it finds his reward at the end: it is not necessary to get there
first.

In printing-offices, where the laborers usually work by the job, the
compositor receives so much per thousand letters set; the pressman so much
per thousand sheets printed. There, as elsewhere, inequalities of talent
and skill are to be found. When there is no prospect of dull times (for
printing and typesetting, like all other trades, sometimes come to a
stand-still), every one is free to work his hardest, and exert his
faculties to the utmost: he who does more gets more; he who does less gets
less. When business slackens, compositors and pressmen divide up their
labor; all monopolists are detested as no better than robbers or traitors.

There is a philosophy in the action of these printers, to which neither
economists nor legists have ever risen. If our legislators had introduced
into their codes the principle of distributive justice which governs
printing-offices; if they had observed the popular instincts,—not
for the sake of servile imitation, but in order to reform and generalize
them,—long ere this liberty and equality would have been established
on an immovable basis, and we should not now be disputing about the right
of property and the necessity of social distinctions.

It has been calculated that if labor were equally shared by the whole
number of able-bodied individuals, the average working-day of each
individual, in France, would not exceed five hours. This being so, how can
we presume to talk of the inequality of laborers? It is the LABOR of
Robert Macaire that causes inequality.

The principle, TO EACH ACCORDING TO HIS LABOR, interpreted to mean, WHO
WORKS MOST SHOULD RECEIVE MOST, is based, therefore, on two palpable
errors: one, an error in economy, that in the labor of society tasks must
necessarily be unequal; the other, an error in physics, that there is no
limit to the amount of producible things.

“But,” it will be said, “suppose there are some people who wish to perform
only half of their task?”… Is that very embarrassing? Probably they are
satisfied with half of their salary. Paid according to the labor that they
had performed, of what could they complain? and what injury would they do
to others? In this sense, it is fair to apply the maxim,—TO EACH
ACCORDING TO HIS RESULTS. It is the law of equality itself.

Further, numerous difficulties, relative to the police system and the
organization of industry, might be raised here. I will reply to them all
with this one sentence,—that they must all be solved by the
principle of equality. Thus, some one might observe, “Here is a task which
cannot be postponed without detriment to production. Ought society to
suffer from the negligence of a few? and will she not venture—out of
respect for the right of labor—to assure with her own hands the
product which they refuse her? In such a case, to whom will the salary
belong?”

To society; who will be allowed to perform the labor, either herself, or
through her representatives, but always in such a way that the general
equality shall never be violated, and that only the idler shall be
punished for his idleness. Further, if society may not use excessive
severity towards her lazy members, she has a right, in self-defence, to
guard against abuses.

But every industry needs—they will add—leaders, instructors,
superintendents, &c. Will these be engaged in the general task? No;
since their task is to lead, instruct, and superintend. But they must be
chosen from the laborers by the laborers themselves, and must fulfil the
conditions of eligibility. It is the same with all public functions,
whether of administration or instruction.

Then, article first of the universal constitution will be:—

“The limited quantity of available material proves the necessity of
dividing the labor among the whole number of laborers. The capacity, given
to all, of accomplishing a social task,—that is, an equal task,—and
the impossibility of paying one laborer save in the products of another,
justify the equality of wages.”

% 7.—That Inequality of Powers is the Necessary Condition of
Equality of Fortunes.

It is objected,—and this objection constitutes the second part of
the St. Simonian, and the third part of the Fourierstic, maxims,—

“That all kinds of labor cannot be executed with equal ease. Some require
great superiority of skill and intelligence; and on this superiority is
based the price. The artist, the savant, the poet, the statesman, are
esteemed only because of their excellence; and this excellence destroys
all similitude between them and other men: in the presence of these
heights of science and genius the law of equality disappears. Now, if
equality is not absolute, there is no equality. From the poet we descend
to the novelist; from the sculptor to the stonecutter; from the architect
to the mason; from the chemist to the cook, &c. Capacities are
classified and subdivided into orders, genera, and species. The extremes
of talent are connected by intermediate talents. Humanity is a vast
hierarchy, in which the individual estimates himself by comparison, and
fixes his price by the value placed upon his product by the public.”

This objection always has seemed a formidable one. It is the
stumbling-block of the economists, as well as of the defenders of
equality. It has led the former into egregious blunders, and has caused
the latter to utter incredible platitudes. Gracchus Babeuf wished all
superiority to be STRINGENTLY REPRESSED, and even PERSECUTED AS A SOCIAL
CALAMITY. To establish his communistic edifice, he lowered all citizens to
the stature of the smallest. Ignorant eclectics have been known to object
to the inequality of knowledge, and I should not be surprised if some one
should yet rebel against the inequality of virtue. Aristotle was banished,
Socrates drank the hemlock, Epaminondas was called to account, for having
proved superior in intelligence and virtue to some dissolute and foolish
demagogues. Such follies will be re-enacted, so long as the inequality of
fortunes justifies a populace, blinded and oppressed by the wealthy, in
fearing the elevation of new tyrants to power.

Nothing seems more unnatural than that which we examine too closely, and
often nothing seems less like the truth than the truth itself. On the
other hand, according to J. J. Rousseau, “it takes a great deal of
philosophy to enable us to observe once what we see every day;” and,
according to d’Alembert, “the ordinary truths of life make but little
impression on men, unless their attention is especially called to them.”
The father of the school of economists (Say), from whom I borrow these two
quotations, might have profited by them; but he who laughs at the blind
should wear spectacles, and he who notices him is near-sighted.

Strange! that which has frightened so many minds is not, after all, an
objection to equality—it is the very condition on which equality
exists!…

Natural inequality the condition of equality of fortunes!… What a
paradox!… I repeat my assertion, that no one may think I have blundered—inequality
of powers is the sine qua non of equality of fortunes.

There are two things to be considered in society—FUNCTIONS and
RELATIONS.

I. FUNCTIONS. Every laborer is supposed to be capable of performing the
task assigned to him; or, to use a common expression, “every workman must
know his trade.” The workman equal to his work,—there is an equation
between functionary and function.

In society, functions are not alike; there must be, then, different
capacities. Further,—certain functions demand greater intelligence
and powers; then there are people of superior mind and talent. For the
performance of work necessarily involves a workman: from the need springs
the idea, and the idea makes the producer. We only know what our senses
long for and our intelligence demands; we have no keen desire for things
of which we cannot conceive, and the greater our powers of conception, the
greater our capabilities of production.

Thus, functions arising from needs, needs from desires, and desires from
spontaneous perception and imagination, the same intelligence which
imagines can also produce; consequently, no labor is superior to the
laborer. In a word, if the function calls out the functionary, it is
because the functionary exists before the function.

Let us admire Nature’s economy. With regard to these various needs which
she has given us, and which the isolated man cannot satisfy unaided,
Nature has granted to the race a power refused to the individual. This
gives rise to the principle of the DIVISION OF LABOR,—a principle
founded on the SPECIALITY OF VOCATIONS.

The satisfaction of some needs demands of man continual creation; while
others can, by the labor of a single individual, be satisfied for millions
of men through thousands of centuries. For example, the need of clothing
and food requires perpetual reproduction; while a knowledge of the system
of the universe may be acquired for ever by two or three highly-gifted
men. The perpetual current of rivers supports our commerce, and runs our
machinery; but the sun, alone in the midst of space, gives light to the
whole world. Nature, who might create Platos and Virgils, Newtons and
Cuviers, as she creates husbandmen and shepherds, does not see fit to do
so; choosing rather to proportion the rarity of genius to the duration of
its products, and to balance the number of capacities by the competency of
each one of them.

I do not inquire here whether the distance which separates one man from
another, in point of talent and intelligence, arises from the deplorable
condition of civilization, nor whether that which is now called the
INEQUALITY OF POWERS would be in an ideal society any thing more than a
DIVERSITY OF POWERS. I take the worst view of the matter; and, that I may
not be accused of tergiversation and evasion of difficulties, I
acknowledge all the inequalities that any one can desire. 16

Certain philosophers, in love with the levelling idea, maintain that all
minds are equal, and that all differences are the result of education. I
am no believer, I confess, in this doctrine; which, even if it were true,
would lead to a result directly opposite to that desired. For, if
capacities are equal, whatever be the degree of their power (as no one can
be coerced), there are functions deemed coarse, low, and degrading, which
deserve higher pay,—a result no less repugnant to equality than to
the principle, TO EACH CAPACITY ACCORDING TO ITS RESULTS. Give me, on the
contrary, a society in which every kind of talent bears a proper numerical
relation to the needs of the society, and which demands from each producer
only that which his special function requires him to produce; and, without
impairing in the least the hierarchy of functions, I will deduce the
equality of fortunes.

This is my second point.

II. RELATIONS. In considering the element of labor, I have shown that in
the same class of productive services, the capacity to perform a social
task being possessed by all, no inequality of reward can be based upon an
inequality of individual powers. However, it is but fair to say that
certain capacities seem quite incapable of certain services; so that, if
human industry were entirely confined to one class of products, numerous
incapacities would arise, and, consequently, the greatest social
inequality. But every body sees, without any hint from me, that the
variety of industries avoids this difficulty; so clear is this that I
shall not stop to discuss it. We have only to prove, then, that functions
are equal to each other; just as laborers, who perform the same function,
are equal to each other.

Property makes man a eunuch, and then reproaches him for being nothing but
dry wood, a decaying tree.

Are you astonished that I refuse to genius, to knowledge, to courage,—in
a word, to all the excellences admired by the world,—the homage of
dignities, the distinctions of power and wealth? It is not I who refuse
it: it is economy, it is justice, it is liberty. Liberty! for the first
time in this discussion I appeal to her. Let her rise in her own defence,
and achieve her victory.

Every transaction ending in an exchange of products or services may be
designated as a COMMERCIAL OPERATION.

Whoever says commerce, says exchange of equal values; for, if the values
are not equal, and the injured party perceives it, he will not consent to
the exchange, and there will be no commerce.

Commerce exists only among free men. Transactions may be effected between
other people by violence or fraud, but there is no commerce.

A free man is one who enjoys the use of his reason and his faculties; who
is neither blinded by passion, nor hindered or driven by oppression, nor
deceived by erroneous opinions.

So, in every exchange, there is a moral obligation that neither of the
contracting parties shall gain at the expense of the other; that is, that,
to be legitimate and true, commerce must be exempt from all inequality.
This is the first condition of commerce. Its second condition is, that it
be voluntary; that is, that the parties act freely and openly.

I define, then, commerce or exchange as an act of society.

The negro who sells his wife for a knife, his children for some bits of
glass, and finally himself for a bottle of brandy, is not free. The dealer
in human flesh, with whom he negotiates, is not his associate; he is his
enemy.

The civilized laborer who bakes a loaf that he may eat a slice of bread,
who builds a palace that he may sleep in a stable, who weaves rich fabrics
that he may dress in rags, who produces every thing that he may dispense
with every thing,—is not free. His employer, not becoming his
associate in the exchange of salaries or services which takes place
between them, is his enemy.

The soldier who serves his country through fear instead of through love is
not free; his comrades and his officers, the ministers or organs of
military justice, are all his enemies.

The peasant who hires land, the manufacturer who borrows capital, the
tax-payer who pays tolls, duties, patent and license fees, personal and
property taxes, &c., and the deputy who votes for them,—all act
neither intelligently nor freely. Their enemies are the proprietors, the
capitalists, the government.

Give men liberty, enlighten their minds that they may know the meaning of
their contracts, and you will see the most perfect equality in exchanges
without regard to superiority of talent and knowledge; and you will admit
that in commercial affairs, that is, in the sphere of society, the word
superiority is void of sense.

Let Homer sing his verse. I listen to this sublime genius in comparison
with whom I, a simple herdsman, an humble farmer, am as nothing. What,
indeed,—if product is to be compared with product,—are my
cheeses and my beans in the presence of his “Iliad”? But, if Homer wishes
to take from me all that I possess, and make me his slave in return for
his inimitable poem, I will give up the pleasure of his lays, and dismiss
him. I can do without his “Iliad,” and wait, if necessary, for the
“AEneid.”

Homer cannot live twenty-four hours without my products. Let him accept,
then, the little that I have to offer; and then his muse may instruct,
encourage, and console me.

“What! do you say that such should be the condition of one who sings of
gods and men? Alms, with the humiliation and suffering which they bring
with them!—what barbarous generosity!”… Do not get excited, I beg
of you. Property makes of a poet either a Croesus or a beggar; only
equality knows how to honor and to praise him. What is its duty? To
regulate the right of the singer and the duty of the listener. Now, notice
this point, which is a very important one in the solution of this
question: both are free, the one to sell, the other to buy. Henceforth
their respective pretensions go for nothing; and the estimate, whether
fair or unfair, that they place, the one upon his verse, the other upon
his liberality, can have no influence upon the conditions of the contract.
We must no longer, in making our bargains, weigh talent; we must consider
products only.

In order that the bard of Achilles may get his due reward, he must first
make himself wanted: that done, the exchange of his verse for a fee of any
kind, being a free act, must be at the same time a just act; that is, the
poet’s fee must be equal to his product. Now, what is the value of this
product?

Let us suppose, in the first place, that this “Iliad”—this chef-d’
oeuvre that is to be equitably rewarded—is really above price, that
we do not know how to appraise it. If the public, who are free to purchase
it, refuse to do so, it is clear that, the poem being unexchangeable, its
intrinsic value will not be diminished; but that its exchangeable value,
or its productive utility, will be reduced to zero, will be nothing at
all. Then we must seek the amount of wages to be paid between infinity on
the one hand and nothing on the other, at an equal distance from each,
since all rights and liberties are entitled to equal respect; in other
words, it is not the intrinsic value, but the relative value, of the thing
sold that needs to be fixed. The question grows simpler: what is this
relative value? To what reward does a poem like the “Iliad” entitle its
author?

The first business of political economy, after fixing its definitions, was
the solution of this problem; now, not only has it not been solved, but it
has been declared insoluble. According to the economists, the relative or
exchangeable value of things cannot be absolutely determined; it
necessarily varies.

“The value of a thing,” says Say, “is a positive quantity, but only for a
given moment. It is its nature to perpetually vary, to change from one
point to another. Nothing can fix it absolutely, because it is based on
needs and means of production which vary with every moment. These
variations complicate economical phenomena, and often render them very
difficult of observation and solution. I know no remedy for this; it is
not in our power to change the nature of things.”

Elsewhere Say says, and repeats, that value being based on utility, and
utility depending entirely on our needs, whims, customs, &c., value is
as variable as opinion. Now, political economy being the science of
values, of their production, distribution, exchange, and consumption,—if
exchangeable value cannot be absolutely determined, how is political
economy possible? How can it be a science? How can two economists look
each other in the face without laughing? How dare they insult
metaphysicians and psychologists? What! that fool of a Descartes imagined
that philosophy needed an immovable base—an aliquid inconcussum—on
which the edifice of science might be built, and he was simple enough to
search for it! And the Hermes of economy, Trismegistus Say, devoting half
a volume to the amplification of that solemn text, political economy is
a science, has the courage to affirm immediately afterwards that this
science cannot determine its object,—which is equivalent to saying
that it is without a principle or foundation! He does not know, then, the
illustrious Say, the nature of a science; or rather, he knows nothing of
the subject which he discusses.

Say’s example has borne its fruits. Political economy, as it exists at
present, resembles ontology: discussing effects and causes, it knows
nothing, explains nothing, decides nothing. The ideas honored with the
name of economic laws are nothing more than a few trifling generalities,
to which the economists thought to give an appearance of depth by clothing
them in high-sounding words. As for the attempts that have been made by
the economists to solve social problems, all that can be said of them is,
that, if a glimmer of sense occasionally appears in their lucubrations,
they immediately fall back into absurdity. For twenty-five years political
economy, like a heavy fog, has weighed upon France, checking the efforts
of the mind, and setting limits to liberty.

Has every creation of industry a venal, absolute, unchangeable, and
consequently legitimate and true value?—Yes.

Can every product of man be exchanged for some other product of man?—Yes,
again.

How many nails is a pair of shoes worth?

If we can solve this appalling problem, we shall have the key of the
social system for which humanity has been searching for six thousand
years. In the presence of this problem, the economist recoils confused;
the peasant who can neither read nor write replies without hesitation: “As
many as can be made in the same time, and with the same expense.”

The absolute value of a thing, then, is its cost in time and expense. How
much is a diamond worth which costs only the labor of picking it up?—Nothing;
it is not a product of man. How much will it be worth when cut and
mounted?—The time and expense which it has cost the laborer. Why,
then, is it sold at so high a price?—Because men are not free.
Society must regulate the exchange and distribution of the rarest things,
as it does that of the most common ones, in such a way that each may share
in the enjoyment of them. What, then, is that value which is based upon
opinion?—Delusion, injustice, and robbery.

By this rule, it is easy to reconcile every body. If the mean term, which
we are searching for, between an infinite value and no value at all is
expressed in the case of every product, by the amount of time and expense
which the product cost, a poem which has cost its author thirty years of
labor and an outlay of ten thousand francs in journeys, books, &c.,
must be paid for by the ordinary wages received by a laborer during thirty
years, PLUS ten thousand francs indemnity for expense incurred. Suppose
the whole amount to be fifty thousand francs; if the society which gets
the benefit of the production include a million of men, my share of the
debt is five centimes.

This gives rise to a few observations.

1. The same product, at different times and in different places, may cost
more or less of time and outlay; in this view, it is true that value is a
variable quantity. But this variation is not that of the economists, who
place in their list of the causes of the variation of values, not only the
means of production, but taste, caprice, fashion, and opinion. In short,
the true value of a thing is invariable in its algebraic expression,
although it may vary in its monetary expression.

2. The price of every product in demand should be its cost in time and
outlay—neither more nor less: every product not in demand is a loss
to the producer—a commercial non-value.

3. The ignorance of the principle of evaluation, and the difficulty under
many circumstances of applying it, is the source of commercial fraud, and
one of the most potent causes of the inequality of fortunes.

4. To reward certain industries and pay for certain products, a society is
needed which corresponds in size with the rarity of talents, the
costliness of the products, and the variety of the arts and sciences. If,
for example, a society of fifty farmers can support a schoolmaster, it
requires one hundred for a shoemaker, one hundred and fifty for a
blacksmith, two hundred for a tailor, &c. If the number of farmers
rises to one thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand, &c., as
fast as their number increases, that of the functionaries which are
earliest required must increase in the same proportion; so that the
highest functions become possible only in the most powerful societies. 17
That is the peculiar feature of capacities; the character of genius, the
seal of its glory, cannot arise and develop itself, except in the bosom of
a great nation. But this physiological condition, necessary to the
existence of genius, adds nothing to its social rights: far from that,—the
delay in its appearance proves that, in economical and civil affairs, the
loftiest intelligence must submit to the equality of possessions; an
equality which is anterior to it, and of which it constitutes the crown.

This is severe on our pride, but it is an inexorable truth. And here
psychology comes to the aid of social economy, giving us to understand
that talent and material recompense have no common measure; that, in this
respect, the condition of all producers is equal: consequently, that all
comparison between them, and all distinction in fortunes, is impossible.

In fact, every work coming from the hands of man—compared with the
raw material of which it is composed—is beyond price. In this
respect, the distance is as great between a pair of wooden shoes and the
trunk of a walnut-tree, as between a statue by Scopas and a block of
marble. The genius of the simplest mechanic exerts as much influence over
the materials which he uses, as does the mind of a Newton over the inert
spheres whose distances, volumes, and revolutions he calculates. You ask
for talent and genius a corresponding degree of honor and reward. Fix for
me the value of a wood-cutter’s talent, and I will fix that of Homer. If
any thing can reward intelligence, it is intelligence itself. That is what
happens, when various classes of producers pay to each other a reciprocal
tribute of admiration and praise. But if they contemplate an exchange of
products with a view to satisfying mutual needs, this exchange must be
effected in accordance with a system of economy which is indifferent to
considerations of talent and genius, and whose laws are deduced, not from
vague and meaningless admiration, but from a just balance between DEBIT
and CREDIT; in short, from commercial accounts.

Now, that no one may imagine that the liberty of buying and selling is the
sole basis of the equality of wages, and that society’s sole protection
against superiority of talent lies in a certain force of inertia which has
nothing in common with right, I shall proceed to explain why all
capacities are entitled to the same reward, and why a corresponding
difference in wages would be an injustice. I shall prove that the
obligation to stoop to the social level is inherent in talent; and on this
very superiority of genius I will found the equality of fortunes. I have
just given the negative argument in favor of rewarding all capacities
alike; I will now give the direct and positive argument.

Listen, first, to the economist: it is always pleasant to see how he
reasons, and how he understands justice. Without him, moreover, without
his amusing blunders and his wonderful arguments, we should learn nothing.
Equality, so odious to the economist, owes every thing to political
economy.

“When the parents of a physician [the text says a lawyer, which is not so
good an example] have expended on his education forty thousand francs,
this sum may be regarded as so much capital invested in his head. It is
therefore permissible to consider it as yielding an annual income of four
thousand francs. If the physician earns thirty thousand, there remains an
income of twenty-six thousand francs due to the personal talents given him
by Nature. This natural capital, then, if we assume ten per cent. as the
rate of interest, amounts to two hundred and sixty thousand francs; and
the capital given him by his parents, in defraying the expenses of his
education, to forty thousand francs. The union of these two kinds of
capital constitutes his fortune.”—Say: Complete Course, &c.

Say divides the fortune of the physician into two parts: one is composed
of the capital which went to pay for his education, the other represents
his personal talents. This division is just; it is in conformity with the
nature of things; it is universally admitted; it serves as the major
premise of that grand argument which establishes the inequality of
capacities. I accept this premise without qualification; let us look at
the consequences.

1. Say CREDITS the physician with forty thousand francs,—the cost of
his education. This amount should be entered upon the DEBIT side of the
account. For, although this expense was incurred for him, it was not
incurred by him. Then, instead of appropriating these forty thousand
francs, the physician should add them to the price of his product, and
repay them to those who are entitled to them. Notice, further, that Say
speaks of INCOME instead of REIMBURSEMENT; reasoning on the false
principle of the productivity of capital. The expense of educating a
talent is a debt contracted by this talent. From the very fact of its
existence, it becomes a debtor to an amount equal to the cost of its
production. This is so true and simple that, if the education of some one
child in a family has cost double or triple that of its brothers, the
latter are entitled to a proportional amount of the property previous to
its division. There is no difficulty about this in the case of
guardianship, when the estate is administered in the name of the minors.

2. That which I have just said of the obligation incurred by talent of
repaying the cost of its education does not embarrass the economist. The
man of talent, he says, inheriting from his family, inherits among other
things a claim to the forty thousand francs which his education costs; and
he becomes, in consequence, its proprietor. But this is to abandon the
right of talent, and to fall back upon the right of occupancy; which again
calls up all the questions asked in Chapter II. What is the right of
occupancy? what is inheritance? Is the right of succession a right of
accumulation or only a right of choice? how did the physician’s father get
his fortune? was he a proprietor, or only a usufructuary? If he was rich,
let him account for his wealth; if he was poor, how could he incur so
large an expense? If he received aid, what right had he to use that aid to
the disadvantage of his benefactors, &c.?

3. “There remains an income of twenty-six thousand francs due to the
personal talents given him by Nature.” (Say,—as above quoted.)
Reasoning from this premise, Say concludes that our physician’s talent is
equivalent to a capital of two hundred and sixty thousand francs. This
skilful calculator mistakes a consequence for a principle. The talent must
not be measured by the gain, but rather the gain by the talent; for it may
happen, that, notwithstanding his merit, the physician in question will
gain nothing at all, in which case will it be necessary to conclude that
his talent or fortune is equivalent to zero? To such a result, however,
would Say’s reasoning lead; a result which is clearly absurd.

Now, it is impossible to place a money value on any talent whatsoever,
since talent and money have no common measure. On what plausible ground
can it be maintained that a physician should be paid two, three, or a
hundred times as much as a peasant? An unavoidable difficulty, which has
never been solved save by avarice, necessity, and oppression. It is not
thus that the right of talent should be determined. But how is it to be
determined?

4. I say, first, that the physician must be treated with as much favor as
any other producer, that he must not be placed below the level of others.
This I will not stop to prove. But I add that neither must he be lifted
above that level; because his talent is collective property for which he
did not pay, and for which he is ever in debt.

Just as the creation of every instrument of production is the result of
collective force, so also are a man’s talent and knowledge the product of
universal intelligence and of general knowledge slowly accumulated by a
number of masters, and through the aid of many inferior industries. When
the physician has paid for his teachers, his books, his diplomas, and all
the other items of his educational expenses, he has no more paid for his
talent than the capitalist pays for his house and land when he gives his
employees their wages. The man of talent has contributed to the production
in himself of a useful instrument. He has, then, a share in its
possession; he is not its proprietor. There exist side by side in him a
free laborer and an accumulated social capital. As a laborer, he is
charged with the use of an instrument, with the superintendence of a
machine; namely, his capacity. As capital, he is not his own master; he
uses himself, not for his own benefit, but for that of others.

Even if talent did not find in its own excellence a reward for the
sacrifices which it costs, still would it be easier to find reasons for
lowering its reward than for raising it above the common level. Every
producer receives an education; every laborer is a talent, a capacity,—that
is, a piece of collective property. But all talents are not equally
costly. It takes but few teachers, but few years, and but little study, to
make a farmer or a mechanic: the generative effort and—if I may
venture to use such language—the period of social gestation are
proportional to the loftiness of the capacity. But while the physician,
the poet, the artist, and the savant produce but little, and that slowly,
the productions of the farmer are much less uncertain, and do not require
so long a time. Whatever be then the capacity of a man,—when this
capacity is once created,—it does not belong to him. Like the
material fashioned by an industrious hand, it had the power of BECOMING,
and society has given it BEING. Shall the vase say to the potter, “I am
that I am, and I owe you nothing”?

The artist, the savant, and the poet find their just recompense in the
permission that society gives them to devote themselves exclusively to
science and to art: so that in reality they do not labor for themselves,
but for society, which creates them, and requires of them no other duty.
Society can, if need be, do without prose and verse, music and painting,
and the knowledge of the movements of the moon and stars; but it cannot
live a single day without food and shelter.

Undoubtedly, man does not live by bread alone; he must, also (according to
the Gospel), LIVE BY THE WORD OF GOD; that is, he must love the good and
do it, know and admire the beautiful, and study the marvels of Nature. But
in order to cultivate his mind, he must first take care of his body,—the
latter duty is as necessary as the former is noble. If it is glorious to
charm and instruct men, it is honorable as well to feed them. When, then,
society—faithful to the principle of the division of labor—intrusts
a work of art or of science to one of its members, allowing him to abandon
ordinary labor, it owes him an indemnity for all which it prevents him
from producing industrially; but it owes him nothing more. If he should
demand more, society should, by refusing his services, annihilate his
pretensions. Forced, then, in order to live, to devote himself to labor
repugnant to his nature, the man of genius would feel his weakness, and
would live the most distasteful of lives.

They tell of a celebrated singer who demanded of the Empress of Russia
(Catherine II) twenty thousand roubles for his services: “That is more
than I give my field-marshals,” said Catherine. “Your majesty,” replied
the other, “has only to make singers of her field-marshals.”

If France (more powerful than Catherine II) should say to Mademoiselle
Rachel, “You must act for one hundred louis, or else spin cotton;” to M.
Duprez, “You must sing for two thousand four hundred francs, or else work
in the vineyard,”—do you think that the actress Rachel, and the
singer Duprez, would abandon the stage? If they did, they would be the
first to repent it.

Mademoiselle Rachel receives, they say, sixty thousand francs annually
from the Comedie-Francaise. For a talent like hers, it is a slight fee.
Why not one hundred thousand francs, two hundred thousand francs? Why! not
a civil list? What meanness! Are we really guilty of chaffering with an
artist like Mademoiselle Rachel?

It is said, in reply, that the managers of the theatre cannot give more
without incurring a loss; that they admit the superior talent of their
young associate; but that, in fixing her salary, they have been compelled
to take the account of the company’s receipts and expenses into
consideration also.

That is just, but it only confirms what I have said; namely, that an
artist’s talent may be infinite, but that its mercenary claims are
necessarily limited,—on the one hand, by its usefulness to the
society which rewards it; on the other, by the resources of this society:
in other words, that the demand of the seller is balanced by the right of
the buyer.

Mademoiselle Rachel, they say, brings to the treasury of the
Theatre-Francais more than sixty thousand francs. I admit it; but then I
blame the theatre. From whom does the Theatre-Francais take this money?
From some curious people who are perfectly free. Yes; but the workingmen,
the lessees, the tenants, those who borrow by pawning their possessions,
from whom these curious people recover all that they pay to the theatre,—are
they free? And when the better part of their products are consumed by
others at the play, do you assure me that their families are not in want?
Until the French people, reflecting on the salaries paid to all artists,
savants, and public functionaries, have plainly expressed their wish and
judgment as to the matter, the salaries of Mademoiselle Rachel and all her
fellow-artists will be a compulsory tax extorted by violence, to reward
pride, and support libertinism.

It is because we are neither free nor sufficiently enlightened, that we
submit to be cheated in our bargains; that the laborer pays the duties
levied by the prestige of power and the selfishness of talent upon the
curiosity of the idle, and that we are perpetually scandalized by these
monstrous inequalities which are encouraged and applauded by public
opinion.

The whole nation, and the nation only, pays its authors, its savants, its
artists, its officials, whatever be the hands through which their salaries
pass. On what basis should it pay them? On the basis of equality. I have
proved it by estimating the value of talent. I shall confirm it in the
following chapter, by proving the impossibility of all social inequality.

What have we shown so far? Things so simple that really they seem silly:—

That, as the traveller does not appropriate the route which he traverses,
so the farmer does not appropriate the field which he sows;

That if, nevertheless, by reason of his industry, a laborer may
appropriate the material which he employs, every employer of material
becomes, by the same title, a proprietor;

That all capital, whether material or mental, being the result of
collective labor, is, in consequence, collective property;

That the strong have no right to encroach upon the labor of the weak, nor
the shrewd to take advantage of the credulity of the simple;

Finally, that no one can be forced to buy that which he does not want,
still less to pay for that which he has not bought; and, consequently,
that the exchangeable value of a product, being measured neither by the
opinion of the buyer nor that of the seller, but by the amount of time and
outlay which it has cost, the property of each always remains the same.

Are not these very simple truths? Well, as simple as they seem to you,
reader, you shall yet see others which surpass them in dullness and
simplicity. For our course is the reverse of that of the geometricians:
with them, the farther they advance, the more difficult their problems
become; we, on the contrary, after having commenced with the most abstruse
propositions, shall end with the axioms.

But I must close this chapter with an exposition of one of those startling
truths which never have been dreamed of by legists or economists.

% 8.—That, from the Stand-point of Justice, Labor destroys Property.

This proposition is the logical result of the two preceding sections,
which we have just summed up.

The isolated man can supply but a very small portion of his wants; all his
power lies in association, and in the intelligent combination of universal
effort. The division and co-operation of labor multiply the quantity and
the variety of products; the individuality of functions improves their
quality.

There is not a man, then, but lives upon the products of several thousand
different industries; not a laborer but receives from society at large the
things which he consumes, and, with these, the power to reproduce. Who,
indeed, would venture the assertion, “I produce, by my own effort, all
that I consume; I need the aid of no one else”? The farmer, whom the early
economists regarded as the only real producer—the farmer, housed,
furnished, clothed, fed, and assisted by the mason, the carpenter, the
tailor, the miller, the baker, the butcher, the grocer, the blacksmith,
&c.,—the farmer, I say, can he boast that he produces by his own
unaided effort?

The various articles of consumption are given to each by all;
consequently, the production of each involves the production of all. One
product cannot exist without another; an isolated industry is an
impossible thing. What would be the harvest of the farmer, if others did
not manufacture for him barns, wagons, ploughs, clothes, &c.? Where
would be the savant without the publisher; the printer without the
typecaster and the machinist; and these, in their turn, without a
multitude of other industries?… Let us not prolong this catalogue—so
easy to extend—lest we be accused of uttering commonplaces. All
industries are united by mutual relations in a single group; all
productions do reciprocal service as means and end; all varieties of
talent are but a series of changes from the inferior to the superior.

Now, this undisputed and indisputable fact of the general participation in
every species of product makes all individual productions common; so that
every product, coming from the hands of the producer, is mortgaged in
advance by society. The producer himself is entitled to only that portion
of his product, which is expressed by a fraction whose denominator is
equal to the number of individuals of which society is composed. It is
true that in return this same producer has a share in all the products of
others, so that he has a claim upon all, just as all have a claim upon
him; but is it not clear that this reciprocity of mortgages, far from
authorizing property, destroys even possession? The laborer is not even
possessor of his product; scarcely has he finished it, when society claims
it.

“But,” it will be answered, “even if that is so—even if the product
does not belong to the producer—still society gives each laborer an
equivalent for his product; and this equivalent, this salary, this reward,
this allowance, becomes his property. Do you deny that this property is
legitimate? And if the laborer, instead of consuming his entire wages,
chooses to economize,—who dare question his right to do so?”

The laborer is not even proprietor of the price of his labor, and cannot
absolutely control its disposition. Let us not be blinded by a spurious
justice. That which is given the laborer in exchange for his product is
not given him as a reward for past labor, but to provide for and secure
future labor. We consume before we produce. The laborer may say at the end
of the day, “I have paid yesterday’s expenses; to-morrow I shall pay those
of today.” At every moment of his life, the member of society is in debt;
he dies with the debt unpaid:—how is it possible for him to
accumulate?

They talk of economy—it is the proprietor’s hobby. Under a system of
equality, all economy which does not aim at subsequent reproduction or
enjoyment is impossible—why? Because the thing saved, since it
cannot be converted into capital, has no object, and is without a FINAL
CAUSE. This will be explained more fully in the next chapter.

To conclude:—

The laborer, in his relation to society, is a debtor who of necessity dies
insolvent. The proprietor is an unfaithful guardian who denies the receipt
of the deposit committed to his care, and wishes to be paid for his
guardianship down to the last day.

Lest the principles just set forth may appear to certain readers too
metaphysical, I shall reproduce them in a more concrete form, intelligible
to the dullest brains, and pregnant with the most important consequences.

Hitherto, I have considered property as a power of EXCLUSION; hereafter, I
shall examine it as a power of INVASION.

CHAPTER IV. THAT PROPERTY IS IMPOSSIBLE.

The last resort of proprietors,—the overwhelming argument whose
invincible potency reassures them,—is that, in their opinion,
equality of conditions is impossible. “Equality of conditions is a
chimera,” they cry with a knowing air; “distribute wealth equally to-day—to-morrow
this equality will have vanished.”

To this hackneyed objection, which they repeat everywhere with the most
marvellous assurance, they never fail to add the following comment, as a
sort of GLORY BE TO THE FATHER: “If all men were equal, nobody would
work.” This anthem is sung with variations.

“If all were masters, nobody would obey.”

“If nobody were rich, who would employ the poor?”

And, “If nobody were poor, who would labor for the rich?”

But let us have done with invective—we have better arguments at our
command.

If I show that property itself is impossible—that it is property
which is a contradiction, a chimera, a utopia; and if I show it no longer
by metaphysics and jurisprudence, but by figures, equations, and
calculations,—imagine the fright of the astounded proprietor! And
you, reader; what do you think of the retort?

Numbers govern the world—mundum regunt numeri. This proverb applies
as aptly to the moral and political, as to the sidereal and molecular,
world. The elements of justice are identical with those of algebra;
legislation and government are simply the arts of classifying and
balancing powers; all jurisprudence falls within the rules of arithmetic.
This chapter and the next will serve to lay the foundations of this
extraordinary doctrine. Then will be unfolded to the reader’s vision an
immense and novel career; then shall we commence to see in numerical
relations the synthetic unity of philosophy and the sciences; and, filled
with admiration and enthusiasm for this profound and majestic simplicity
of Nature, we shall shout with the apostle: “Yes, the Eternal has made all
things by number, weight, and measure!” We shall understand not only that
equality of conditions is possible, but that all else is impossible; that
this seeming impossibility which we charge upon it arises from the fact
that we always think of it in connection either with the proprietary or
the communistic regime,—political systems equally irreconcilable
with human nature. We shall see finally that equality is constantly being
realized without our knowledge, even at the very moment when we are
pronouncing it incapable of realization; that the time draws near when,
without any effort or even wish of ours, we shall have it universally
established; that with it, in it, and by it, the natural and true
political order must make itself manifest.

It has been said, in speaking of the blindness and obstinacy of the
passions, that, if man had any thing to gain by denying the truths of
arithmetic, he would find some means of unsettling their certainty: here
is an opportunity to try this curious experiment. I attack property, no
longer with its own maxims, but with arithmetic. Let the proprietors
prepare to verify my figures; for, if unfortunately for them the figures
prove accurate, the proprietors are lost.

In proving the impossibility of property, I complete the proof of its
injustice. In fact,—

That which is JUST must be USEFUL;

That which is useful must be TRUE;

That which is true must be POSSIBLE;

Therefore, every thing which is impossible is untrue, useless, unjust.
Then,—a priori,—we may judge of the justice of any thing by
its possibility; so that if the thing were absolutely impossible, it would
be absolutely unjust.

PROPERTY IS PHYSICALLY AND MATHEMATICALLY IMPOSSIBLE. DEMONSTRATION.

AXIOM.—Property is the Right of Increase claimed by the Proprietor
over any thing which he has stamped as his own.

This proposition is purely an axiom, because,—

1. It is not a definition, since it does not express all that is included
in the right of property—the right of sale, of exchange, of gift;
the right to transform, to alter, to consume, to destroy, to use and
abuse, &c. All these rights are so many different powers of property,
which we may consider separately; but which we disregard here, that we may
devote all our attention to this single one,—the right of increase.

2. It is universally admitted. No one can deny it without denying the
facts, without being instantly belied by universal custom.

3. It is self-evident, since property is always accompanied (either
actually or potentially) by the fact which this axiom expresses; and
through this fact, mainly, property manifests, establishes, and asserts
itself.

4. Finally, its negation involves a contradiction. The right of increase
is really an inherent right, so essential a part of property, that, in its
absence, property is null and void.

OBSERVATIONS.—Increase receives different names according to the
thing by which it is yielded: if by land, FARM-RENT; if by houses and
furniture, RENT; if by life-investments, REVENUE; if by money, INTEREST;
if by exchange, ADVANTAGE, GAIN, PROFIT (three things which must not be
confounded with the wages or legitimate price of labor).

Increase—a sort of royal prerogative, of tangible and consumable
homage—is due to the proprietor on account of his nominal and
metaphysical occupancy. His seal is set upon the thing; that is enough to
prevent any one else from occupying it without HIS permission.

This permission to use his things the proprietor may, if he chooses,
freely grant. Commonly he sells it. This sale is really a stellionate and
an extortion; but by the legal fiction of the right of property, this same
sale, severely punished, we know not why, in other cases, is a source of
profit and value to the proprietor.

The amount demanded by the proprietor, in payment for this permission, is
expressed in monetary terms by the dividend which the supposed product
yields in nature. So that, by the right of increase, the proprietor reaps
and does not plough; gleans and does not till; consumes and does not
produce; enjoys and does not labor. Very different from the idols of the
Psalmist are the gods of property: the former had hands and felt not; the
latter, on the contrary, manus habent et palpabunt. The right of
increase is conferred in a very mysterious and supernatural manner. The
inauguration of a proprietor is accompanied by the awful ceremonies of an
ancient initiation. First, comes the CONSECRATION of the article; a
consecration which makes known to all that they must offer up a suitable
sacrifice to the proprietor, whenever they wish, by his permission
obtained and signed, to use his article.

Second, comes the ANATHEMA, which prohibits—except on the conditions
aforesaid—all persons from touching the article, even in the
proprietor’s absence; and pronounces every violator of property
sacrilegious, infamous, amenable to the secular power, and deserving of
being handed over to it.

Finally, the DEDICATION, which enables the proprietor or patron saint—the
god chosen to watch over the article—to inhabit it mentally, like a
divinity in his sanctuary. By means of this dedication, the substance of
the article—so to speak—becomes converted into the person of
the proprietor, who is regarded as ever present in its form.

This is exactly the doctrine of the writers on jurisprudence. “Property,”
says Toullier, “is a MORAL QUALITY inherent in a thing; AN ACTUAL BOND
which fastens it to the proprietor, and which cannot be broken save by his
act.” Locke humbly doubted whether God could make matter INTELLIGENT.
Toullier asserts that the proprietor renders it MORAL. How much does he
lack of being a God? These are by no means exaggerations.

PROPERTY IS THE RIGHT OF INCREASE; that is, the power to produce without
labor. Now, to produce without labor is to make something from nothing; in
short, to create. Surely it is no more difficult to do this than to
moralize matter. The jurists are right, then, in applying to proprietors
this passage from the Scriptures,—Ego dixi: Dii estis et filii
Excelsi omnes,—”I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are
children of the Most High.”

PROPERTY IS THE RIGHT OF INCREASE. To us this axiom shall be like the name
of the beast in the Apocalypse,—a name in which is hidden the
complete explanation of the whole mystery of this beast. It was known that
he who should solve the mystery of this name would obtain a knowledge of
the whole prophecy, and would succeed in mastering the beast. Well! by the
most careful interpretation of our axiom we shall kill the sphinx of
property.

Starting from this eminently characteristic fact—the RIGHT OF
INCREASE—we shall pursue the old serpent through his coils; we shall
count the murderous entwinings of this frightful taenia, whose head, with
its thousand suckers, is always hidden from the sword of its most violent
enemies, though abandoning to them immense fragments of its body. It
requires something more than courage to subdue this monster. It was
written that it should not die until a proletaire, armed with a magic
wand, had fought with it.

COROLLARIES.—1. THE AMOUNT OF INCREASE IS PROPORTIONAL TO THE THING
INCREASED. Whatever be the rate of interest,—whether it rise to
three, five, or ten per cent., or fall to one-half, one-fourth, one-tenth,—it
does not matter; the law of increase remains the same. The law is as
follows:—

All capital—the cash value of which can be estimated—may be
considered as a term in an arithmetical series which progresses in the
ratio of one hundred, and the revenue yielded by this capital as the
corresponding term of another arithmetical series which progresses in a
ratio equal to the rate of interest. Thus, a capital of five hundred
francs being the fifth term of the arithmetical progression whose ratio is
one hundred, its revenue at three per cent. will be indicated by the fifth
term of the arithmetical progression whose ratio is three:—

An acquaintance with this sort of LOGARITHMS—tables of which,
calculated to a very high degree, are possessed by proprietors—will
give us the key to the most puzzling problems, and cause us to experience
a series of surprises.

By this LOGARITHMIC theory of the right of increase, a piece of property,
together with its income, may be defined as A NUMBER WHOSE LOGARITHM IS
EQUAL TO THE SUM OF ITS UNITS DIVIDED BY ONE HUNDRED, AND MULTIPLIED BY
THE RATE OF INTEREST. For instance; a house valued at one hundred thousand
francs, and leased at five per cent., yields a revenue of five thousand
francs, according to the formula 100,000 x 5 / 100 = five thousand. Vice
versa, a piece of land which yields, at two and a half per cent., a
revenue of three thousand francs is worth one hundred and twenty thousand
francs, according to this other formula; 3,000 x 100/ 2 1/2 = one hundred
and twenty thousand.

In the first case, the ratio of the progression which marks the increase
of interest is five; in the second, it is two and a half.

OBSERVATION.—The forms of increase known as farm-rent, income, and
interest are paid annually; rent is paid by the week, the month, or the
year; profits and gains are paid at the time of exchange. Thus, the amount
of increase is proportional both to the thing increased, and the time
during which it increases; in other words, usury grows like a cancer—foenus
serpit sicut cancer.

2. THE INCREASE PAID TO THE PROPRIETOR BY THE OCCUPANT IS A DEAD LOSS TO
THE LATTER. For if the proprietor owed, in exchange for the increase which
he receives, some thing more than the permission which he grants, his
right of property would not be perfect—he would not possess jure
optimo, jure perfecto; that is, he would not be in reality a
proprietor. Then, all which passes from the hands of the occupant into
those of the proprietor in the name of increase, and as the price of the
permission to occupy, is a permanent gain for the latter, and a dead loss
and annihilation for the former; to whom none of it will return, save in
the forms of gift, alms, wages paid for his services, or the price of
merchandise which he has delivered. In a word, increase perishes so far as
the borrower is concerned; or to use the more energetic Latin phrase,—res
perit solventi.

3. THE RIGHT OF INCREASE OPPRESSES THE PROPRIETOR AS WELL AS THE STRANGER.
The master of a thing, as its proprietor, levies a tax for the use of his
property upon himself as its possessor, equal to that which he would
receive from a third party; so that capital bears interest in the hands of
the capitalist, as well as in those of the borrower and the commandite.
If, indeed, rather than accept a rent of five hundred francs for my
apartment, I prefer to occupy and enjoy it, it is clear that I shall
become my own debtor for a rent equal to that which I deny myself. This
principle is universally practised in business, and is regarded as an
axiom by the economists. Manufacturers, also, who have the advantage of
being proprietors of their floating capital, although they owe no interest
to any one, in calculating their profits subtract from them, not only
their running expenses and the wages of their employees, but also the
interest on their capital. For the same reason, money-lenders retain in
their own possession as little money as possible; for, since all capital
necessarily bears interest, if this interest is supplied by no one, it
comes out of the capital, which is to that extent diminished. Thus, by the
right of increase, capital eats itself up. This is, doubtless, the idea
that Papinius intended to convey in the phrase, as elegant as it is
forcible—Foenus mordet solidam. I beg pardon for using Latin
so frequently in discussing this subject; it is an homage which I pay to
the most usurious nation that ever existed.

FIRST PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because it demands Something for Nothing.

The discussion of this proposition covers the same ground as that of the
origin of farm-rent, which is so much debated by the economists. When I
read the writings of the greater part of these men, I cannot avoid a
feeling of contempt mingled with anger, in view of this mass of nonsense,
in which the detestable vies with the absurd. It would be a repetition of
the story of the elephant in the moon, were it not for the atrocity of the
consequences. To seek a rational and legitimate origin of that which is,
and ever must be, only robbery, extortion, and plunder—that must be
the height of the proprietor’s folly; the last degree of bedevilment into
which minds, otherwise judicious, can be thrown by the perversity of
selfishness.

“A farmer,” says Say, “is a wheat manufacturer who, among other tools
which serve him in modifying the material from which he makes the wheat,
employs one large tool, which we call a field. If he is not the proprietor
of the field, if he is only a tenant, he pays the proprietor for the
productive service of this tool. The tenant is reimbursed by the
purchaser, the latter by another, until the product reaches the consumer;
who redeems the first payment, PLUS all the others, by means of which the
product has at last come into his hands.”

Let us lay aside the subsequent payments by which the product reaches the
consumer, and, for the present, pay attention only to the first one of
all,—the rent paid to the proprietor by the tenant. On what ground,
we ask, is the proprietor entitled to this rent?

According to Ricardo, MacCulloch, and Mill, farm-rent, properly speaking,
is simply the EXCESS OF THE PRODUCT OF THE MOST FERTILE LAND OVER THAT OF
LANDS OF AN INFERIOR QUALITY; so that farm-rent is not demanded for the
former until the increase of population renders necessary the cultivation
of the latter.

It is difficult to see any sense in this. How can a right to the land be
based upon a difference in the quality of the land? How can varieties of
soil engender a principle of legislation and politics? This reasoning is
either so subtle, or so stupid, that the more I think of it, the more
bewildered I become. Suppose two pieces of land of equal area; the one, A,
capable of supporting ten thousand inhabitants; the other, B, capable of
supporting nine thousand only: when, owing to an increase in their number,
the inhabitants of A shall be forced to cultivate B, the landed
proprietors of A will exact from their tenants in A a rent proportional to
the difference between ten and nine. So say, I think, Ricardo, MacCulloch,
and Mill. But if A supports as many inhabitants as it can contain,—that
is, if the inhabitants of A, by our hypothesis, have only just enough land
to keep them alive,—how can they pay farm-rent?

If they had gone no farther than to say that the difference in land has
OCCASIONED farm-rent, instead of CAUSED it, this observation would have
taught us a valuable lesson; namely, that farm-rent grew out of a desire
for equality. Indeed, if all men have an equal right to the possession of
good land, no one can be forced to cultivate bad land without
indemnification. Farm-rent—according to Ricardo, MacCulloch, and
Mill—would then have been a compensation for loss and hardship. This
system of practical equality is a bad one, no doubt; but it sprang from
good intentions. What argument can Ricardo, MacCulloch, and Mill develop
therefrom in favor of property? Their theory turns against themselves, and
strangles them.

Malthus thinks that farm-rent has its source in the power possessed by
land of producing more than is necessary to supply the wants of the men
who cultivate it. I would ask Malthus why successful labor should entitle
the idle to a portion of the products?

But the worthy Malthus is mistaken in regard to the fact. Yes; land has
the power of producing more than is needed by those who cultivate it, if
by CULTIVATORS is meant tenants only. The tailor also makes more clothes
than he wears, and the cabinet-maker more furniture than he uses. But,
since the various professions imply and sustain one another, not only the
farmer, but the followers of all arts and trades—even to the doctor
and the school-teacher—are, and ought to be, regarded as CULTIVATORS
OF THE LAND. Malthus bases farm-rent upon the principle of commerce. Now,
the fundamental law of commerce being equivalence of the products
exchanged, any thing which destroys this equivalence violates the law.
There is an error in the estimate which needs to be corrected.

Buchanan—a commentator on Smith—regarded farm-rent as the
result of a monopoly, and maintained that labor alone is productive.
Consequently, he thought that, without this monopoly, products would rise
in price; and he found no basis for farm-rent save in the civil law. This
opinion is a corollary of that which makes the civil law the basis of
property. But why has the civil law—which ought to be the written
expression of justice—authorized this monopoly? Whoever says
monopoly, necessarily excludes justice. Now, to say that farm-rent is a
monopoly sanctioned by the law, is to say that injustice is based on
justice,—a contradiction in terms.

Say answers Buchanan, that the proprietor is not a monopolist, because a
monopolist “is one who does not increase the utility of the merchandise
which passes through his hands.”

How much does the proprietor increase the utility of his tenant’s
products? Has he ploughed, sowed, reaped, mowed, winnowed, weeded? These
are the processes by which the tenant and his employees increase the
utility of the material which they consume for the purpose of
reproduction.

“The landed proprietor increases the utility of products by means of his
implement, the land. This implement receives in one state, and returns in
another the materials of which wheat is composed. The action of the land
is a chemical process, which so modifies the material that it multiplies
it by destroying it. The soil is then a producer of utility; and when it
[the soil?] asks its pay in the form of profit, or farm rent, for its
proprietor, it at the same time gives something to the consumer in
exchange for the amount which the consumer pays it. It gives him a
produced utility; and it is the production of this utility which warrants
us in calling land productive, as well as labor.”

Let us clear up this matter.

The blacksmith who manufactures for the farmer implements of husbandry,
the wheelwright who makes him a cart, the mason who builds his barn, the
carpenter, the basket-maker, &c.,—all of whom contribute to
agricultural production by the tools which they provide,—are
producers of utility; consequently, they are entitled to a part of the
products.

“Undoubtedly,” says Say; “but the land also is an implement whose service
must be paid for, then….”

I admit that the land is an implement; but who made it? Did the
proprietor? Did he—by the efficacious virtue of the right of
property, by this MORAL QUALITY infused into the soil—endow it with
vigor and fertility? Exactly there lies the monopoly of the proprietor; in
the fact that, though he did not make the implement, he asks pay for its
use. When the Creator shall present himself and claim farm-rent, we will
consider the matter with him; or even when the proprietor—his
pretended representative—shall exhibit his power-of-attorney.

“The proprietor’s service,” adds Say, “is easy, I admit.”

It is a frank confession.

“But we cannot disregard it. Without property, one farmer would contend
with another for the possession of a field without a proprietor, and the
field would remain uncultivated….”

Then the proprietor’s business is to reconcile farmers by robbing them. O
logic! O justice! O the marvellous wisdom of economists! The proprietor,
if they are right, is like Perrin-Dandin who, when summoned by two
travellers to settle a dispute about an oyster, opened it, gobbled it, and
said to them:—

“The Court awards you each a shell.”

Could any thing worse be said of property?

Will Say tell us why the same farmers, who, if there were no proprietors,
would contend with each other for possession of the soil, do not contend
to-day with the proprietors for this possession? Obviously, because they
think them legitimate possessors, and because their respect for even an
imaginary right exceeds their avarice. I proved, in Chapter II., that
possession is sufficient, without property, to maintain social order.
Would it be more difficult, then, to reconcile possessors without masters
than tenants controlled by proprietors? Would laboring men, who respect—much
to their own detriment—the pretended rights of the idler, violate
the natural rights of the producer and the manufacturer? What! if the
husbandman forfeited his right to the land as soon as he ceased to occupy
it, would he become more covetous? And would the impossibility of
demanding increase, of taxing another’s labor, be a source of quarrels and
law-suits? The economists use singular logic. But we are not yet through.
Admit that the proprietor is the legitimate master of the land.

“The land is an instrument of production,” they say. That is true. But
when, changing the noun into an adjective, they alter the phrase, thus,
“The land is a productive instrument,” they make a wicked blunder.

According to Quesnay and the early economists, all production comes from
the land. Smith, Ricardo, and de Tracy, on the contrary, say that labor is
the sole agent of production. Say, and most of his successors, teach that
BOTH land AND labor AND capital are productive. The latter constitute the
eclectic school of political economy. The truth is, that NEITHER land NOR
labor NOR capital is productive. Production results from the co-operation
of these three equally necessary elements, which, taken separately, are
equally sterile.

Political economy, indeed, treats of the production, distribution, and
consumption of wealth or values. But of what values? Of the values
produced by human industry; that is, of the changes made in matter by man,
that he may appropriate it to his own use, and not at all of Nature’s
spontaneous productions. Man’s labor consists in a simple laying on of
hands. When he has taken that trouble, he has produced a value. Until
then, the salt of the sea, the water of the springs, the grass of the
fields, and the trees of the forests are to him as if they were not. The
sea, without the fisherman and his line, supplies no fish. The forest,
without the wood-cutter and his axe, furnishes neither fuel nor timber.
The meadow, without the mower, yields neither hay nor aftermath. Nature is
a vast mass of material to be cultivated and converted into products; but
Nature produces nothing for herself: in the economical sense, her
products, in their relation to man, are not yet products.

Capital, tools, and machinery are likewise unproductive. The hammer and
the anvil, without the blacksmith and the iron, do not forge. The mill,
without the miller and the grain, does not grind, &c. Bring tools and
raw material together; place a plough and some seed on fertile soil; enter
a smithy, light the fire, and shut up the shop,—you will produce
nothing. The following remark was made by an economist who possessed more
good sense than most of his fellows: “Say credits capital with an active
part unwarranted by its nature; left to itself, it is an idle tool.” (J.
Droz: Political Economy.)

Finally, labor and capital together, when unfortunately combined, produce
nothing. Plough a sandy desert, beat the water of the rivers, pass type
through a sieve,—you will get neither wheat, nor fish, nor books.
Your trouble will be as fruitless as was the immense labor of the army of
Xerxes; who, as Herodotus says, with his three million soldiers, scourged
the Hellespont for twenty-four hours, as a punishment for having broken
and scattered the pontoon bridge which the great king had thrown across
it.

Tools and capital, land and labor, considered individually and abstractly,
are not, literally speaking, productive. The proprietor who asks to be
rewarded for the use of a tool, or the productive power of his land, takes
for granted, then, that which is radically false; namely, that capital
produces by its own effort,—and, in taking pay for this imaginary
product, he literally receives something for nothing.

OBJECTION.—But if the blacksmith, the wheelwright, all manufacturers
in short, have a right to the products in return for the implements which
they furnish; and if land is an implement of production,—why does
not this implement entitle its proprietor, be his claim real or imaginary,
to a portion of the products; as in the case of the manufacturers of
ploughs and wagons?

REPLY.—Here we touch the heart of the question, the mystery of
property; which we must clear up, if we would understand any thing of the
strange effects of the right of increase.

He who manufactures or repairs the farmer’s tools receives the price ONCE,
either at the time of delivery, or in several payments; and when this
price is once paid to the manufacturer, the tools which he has delivered
belong to him no more. Never does he claim double payment for the same
tool, or the same job of repairs. If he annually shares in the products of
the farmer, it is owing to the fact that he annually makes something for
the farmer.

The proprietor, on the contrary, does not yield his implement; eternally
he is paid for it, eternally he keeps it.

In fact, the rent received by the proprietor is not intended to defray the
expense of maintaining and repairing the implement; this expense is
charged to the borrower, and does not concern the proprietor except as he
is interested in the preservation of the article. If he takes it upon
himself to attend to the repairs, he takes care that the money which he
expends for this purpose is repaid.

This rent does not represent the product of the implement, since of itself
the implement produces nothing; we have just proved this, and we shall
prove it more clearly still by its consequences.

Finally, this rent does not represent the participation of the proprietor
in the production; since this participation could consist, like that of
the blacksmith and the wheelwright, only in the surrender of the whole or
a part of his implement, in which case he would cease to be its
proprietor, which would involve a contradiction of the idea of property.

Then, between the proprietor and his tenant there is no exchange either of
values or services; then, as our axiom says, farm-rent is real increase,—an
extortion based solely upon fraud and violence on the one hand, and
weakness and ignorance upon the other. PRODUCTS say the economists, ARE
BOUGHT ONLY BY PRODUCTS. This maxim is property’s condemnation. The
proprietor, producing neither by his own labor nor by his implement, and
receiving products in exchange for nothing, is either a parasite or a
thief. Then, if property can exist only as a right, property is
impossible.

COROLLARIES.—1. The republican constitution of 1793, which defined
property as “the right to enjoy the fruit of one’s labor,” was grossly
mistaken. It should have said, “Property is the right to enjoy and dispose
at will of another’s goods,—the fruit of another’s industry and
labor.”

2. Every possessor of lands, houses, furniture, machinery, tools, money,
&c., who lends a thing for a price exceeding the cost of repairs (the
repairs being charged to the lender, and representing products which he
exchanges for other products), is guilty of swindling and extortion. In
short, all rent received (nominally as damages, but really as payment for
a loan) is an act of property,—a robbery.

HISTORICAL COMMENT.—The tax which a victorious nation levies upon a
conquered nation is genuine farm-rent. The seigniorial rights abolished by
the Revolution of 1789,—tithes, mortmain, statute-labor, &c.,—were
different forms of the rights of property; and they who under the titles
of nobles, seigneurs, prebendaries, &c. enjoyed these rights, were
neither more nor less than proprietors. To defend property to-day is to
condemn the Revolution.

SECOND PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible because wherever it exists Production costs more
than it is worth.

The preceding proposition was legislative in its nature; this one is
economical. It serves to prove that property, which originates in
violence, results in waste.

“Production,” says Say, “is exchange on a large scale. To render the
exchange productive the value of the whole amount of service must be
balanced by the value of the product. If this condition is not complied
with, the exchange is unequal; the producer gives more than he receives.”

Now, value being necessarily based upon utility, it follows that every
useless product is necessarily valueless,—that it cannot be
exchanged; and, consequently, that it cannot be given in payment for
productive services.

Then, though production may equal consumption, it never can exceed it; for
there is no real production save where there is a production of utility,
and there is no utility save where there is a possibility of consumption.
Thus, so much of every product as is rendered by excessive abundance
inconsumable, becomes useless, valueless, unexchangeable,—consequently,
unfit to be given in payment for any thing whatever, and is no longer a
product.

Consumption, on the other hand, to be legitimate,—to be true
consumption,—must be reproductive of utility; for, if it is
unproductive, the products which it destroys are cancelled values—things
produced at a pure loss; a state of things which causes products to
depreciate in value. Man has the power to destroy, but he consumes only
that which he reproduces. Under a right system of economy, there is then
an equation between production and consumption.

These points established, let us suppose a community of one thousand
families, enclosed in a territory of a given circumference, and deprived
of foreign intercourse. Let this community represent the human race,
which, scattered over the face of the earth, is really isolated. In fact,
the difference between a community and the human race being only a
numerical one, the economical results will be absolutely the same in each
case.

Suppose, then, that these thousand families, devoting themselves
exclusively to wheat-culture, are obliged to pay to one hundred
individuals, chosen from the mass, an annual revenue of ten per cent. on
their product. It is clear that, in such a case, the right of increase is
equivalent to a tax levied in advance upon social production. Of what use
is this tax?

It cannot be levied to supply the community with provisions, for between
that and farm-rent there is nothing in common; nor to pay for services and
products,—for the proprietors, laboring like the others, have
labored only for themselves. Finally, this tax is of no use to its
recipients who, having harvested wheat enough for their own consumption,
and not being able in a society without commerce and manufactures to
procure any thing else in exchange for it, thereby lose the advantage of
their income.

In such a society, one-tenth of the product being inconsumable, one-tenth
of the labor goes unpaid—production costs more than it is worth.

Now, change three hundred of our wheat-producers into artisans of all
kinds: one hundred gardeners and wine-growers, sixty shoemakers and
tailors, fifty carpenters and blacksmiths, eighty of various professions,
and, that nothing may be lacking, seven school-masters, one mayor, one
judge, and one priest; each industry furnishes the whole community with
its special product. Now, the total production being one thousand, each
laborer’s consumption is one; namely, wheat, meat, and grain, 0.7; wine
and vegetables, 0.1; shoes and clothing, 0.06; iron-work and furniture,
0.05; sundries, 0.08; instruction, 0.007; administration, 0.002; mass,
0.001, Total 1.

But the community owes a revenue of ten per cent.; and it matters little
whether the farmers alone pay it, or all the laborers are responsible for
it,—the result is the same. The farmer raises the price of his
products in proportion to his share of the debt; the other laborers follow
his example. Then, after some fluctuations, equilibrium is established,
and all pay nearly the same amount of the revenue. It would be a grave
error to assume that in a nation none but farmers pay farm-rent—the
whole nation pays it.

I say, then, that by this tax of ten per cent. each laborer’s consumption
is reduced as follows: wheat, 0.63; wine and vegetables, 0.09; clothing
and shoes, 0.054; furniture and iron-work, 0.045; other products, 0.072;
schooling, 0.0063; administration, 0.0018; mass, 0.0009. Total 0.9.

The laborer has produced 1; he consumes only 0.9. He loses, then,
one-tenth of the price of his labor; his production still costs more than
it is worth. On the other hand, the tenth received by the proprietors is
no less a waste; for, being laborers themselves, they, like the others,
possess in the nine-tenths of their product the wherewithal to live: they
want for nothing. Why should they wish their proportion of bread, wine,
meat, clothes, shelter, &c., to be doubled, if they can neither
consume nor exchange them? Then farm-rent, with them as with the rest of
the laborers, is a waste, and perishes in their hands. Extend the
hypothesis, increase the number and variety of the products, you still
have the same result.

Hitherto, we have considered the proprietor as taking part in the
production, not only (as Say says) by the use of his instrument, but in an
effective manner and by the labor of his hands. Now, it is easy to see
that, under such circumstances, property will never exist. What happens?

The proprietor—an essentially libidinous animal, without virtue or
shame—is not satisfied with an orderly and disciplined life. He
loves property, because it enables him to do at leisure what he pleases
and when he pleases. Having obtained the means of life, he gives himself
up to trivialities and indolence; he enjoys, he fritters away his time, he
goes in quest of curiosities and novel sensations. Property—to enjoy
itself—has to abandon ordinary life, and busy itself in luxurious
occupations and unclean enjoyments.

Instead of giving up a farm-rent, which is perishing in their hands, and
thus lightening the labor of the community, our hundred proprietors prefer
to rest. In consequence of this withdrawal,—the absolute production
being diminished by one hundred, while the consumption remains the same,—production
and consumption seem to balance. But, in the first place, since the
proprietors no longer labor, their consumption is, according to economical
principles, unproductive; consequently, the previous condition of the
community—when the labor of one hundred was rewarded by no products—is
superseded by one in which the products of one hundred are consumed
without labor. The deficit is always the same, whichever the column of the
account in which it is expressed. Either the maxims of political economy
are false, or else property, which contradicts them, is impossible.

The economists—regarding all unproductive consumption as an evil, as
a robbery of the human race—never fail to exhort proprietors to
moderation, labor, and economy; they preach to them the necessity of
making themselves useful, of remunerating production for that which they
receive from it; they launch the most terrible curses against luxury and
laziness. Very beautiful morality, surely; it is a pity that it lacks
common sense. The proprietor who labors, or, as the economists say, WHO
MAKES HIMSELF USEFUL, is paid for this labor and utility; is he,
therefore, any the less idle as concerns the property which he does not
use, and from which he receives an income? His condition, whatever he may
do, is an unproductive and FELONIOUS one; he cannot cease to waste and
destroy without ceasing to be a proprietor.

But this is only the least of the evils which property engenders.

Society has to maintain some idle people, whether or no. It will always
have the blind, the maimed, the insane, and the idiotic. It can easily
support a few sluggards. At this point, the impossibilities thicken and
become complicated.

THIRD PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because, with a given capital, Production is
proportional to labor, not to property.

To pay a farm-rent of one hundred at the rate of ten per cent. of the
product, the product must be one thousand; that the product may be one
thousand, a force of one thousand laborers is needed. It follows, that in
granting a furlough, as we have just done, to our one hundred
laborer-proprietors, all of whom had an equal right to lead the life of
men of income,—we have placed ourselves in a position where we are
unable to pay their revenues. In fact, the productive power, which at
first was one thousand, being now but nine hundred, the production is also
reduced to nine hundred, one-tenth of which is ninety. Either, then, ten
proprietors out of the one hundred cannot be paid,—provided the
remaining ninety are to get the whole amount of their farm-rent,—or
else all must consent to a decrease of ten per cent. For it is not for the
laborer, who has been wanting in no particular, who has produced as in the
past, to suffer by the withdrawal of the proprietor. The latter must take
the consequences of his own idleness. But, then, the proprietor becomes
poorer for the very reason that he wishes to enjoy; by exercising his
right, he loses it; so that property seems to decrease and vanish in
proportion as we try to lay hold of it,—the more we pursue it, the
more it eludes our grasp. What sort of a right is that which is governed
by numerical relations, and which an arithmetical calculation can destroy?

The laborer-proprietor received, first, as laborer, 0.9 in wages; second,
as proprietor, 1 in farm-rent. He said to himself, “My farm-rent is
sufficient; I have enough and to spare without my labor.” And thus it is
that the income upon which he calculated gets diminished by one-tenth,—he
at the same time not even suspecting the cause of this diminution. By
taking part in the production, he was himself the creator of this tenth
which has vanished; and while he thought to labor only for himself, he
unwittingly suffered a loss in exchanging his products, by which he was
made to pay to himself one-tenth of his own farm-rent. Like every one
else, he produced 1, and received but 0.9

If, instead of nine hundred laborers, there had been but five hundred, the
whole amount of farm-rent would have been reduced to fifty; if there had
been but one hundred, it would have fallen to ten. We may posit, then, the
following axiom as a law of proprietary economy: INCREASE MUST DIMINISH AS
THE NUMBER OF IDLERS AUGMENTS.

This first result will lead us to another more surprising still. Its
effect is to deliver us at one blow from all the evils of property,
without abolishing it, without wronging proprietors, and by a highly
conservative process.

We have just proved that, if the farm-rent in a community of one thousand
laborers is one hundred, that of nine hundred would be ninety, that of
eight hundred, eighty, that of one hundred, ten, &c. So that, in a
community where there was but one laborer, the farm-rent would be but 0.1;
no matter how great the extent and value of the land appropriated.
Therefore, WITH A GIVEN LANDED CAPITAL, PRODUCTION IS PROPORTIONAL TO
LABOR, NOT TO PROPERTY.

Guided by this principle, let us try to ascertain the maximum increase of
all property whatever.

What is, essentially, a farm-lease? It is a contract by which the
proprietor yields to a tenant possession of his land, in consideration of
a portion of that which it yields him, the proprietor. If, in consequence
of an increase in his household, the tenant becomes ten times as strong as
the proprietor, he will produce ten times as much. Would the proprietor in
such a case be justified in raising the farm-rent tenfold? His right is
not, The more you produce, the more I demand. It is, The more I sacrifice,
the more I demand. The increase in the tenant’s household, the number of
hands at his disposal, the resources of his industry,—all these
serve to increase production, but bear no relation to the proprietor. His
claims are to be measured by his own productive capacity, not that of
others. Property is the right of increase, not a poll-tax. How could a
man, hardly capable of cultivating even a few acres by himself, demand of
a community, on the ground of its use of ten thousand acres of his
property, ten thousand times as much as he is incapable of producing from
one acre? Why should the price of a loan be governed by the skill and
strength of the borrower, rather than by the utility sacrificed by the
proprietor? We must recognize, then, this second economical law: INCREASE
IS MEASURED BY A FRACTION OF THE PROPRIETORS PRODUCTION.

Now, this production, what is it? In other words, What can the lord and
master of a piece of land justly claim to have sacrificed in lending it to
a tenant?

The productive capacity of a proprietor, like that of any laborer, being
one, the product which he sacrifices in surrendering his land is also one.
If, then, the rate of increase is ten per cent., the maximum increase is
0.1.

But we have seen that, whenever a proprietor withdraws from production,
the amount of products is lessened by 1. Then the increase which accrues
to him, being equal to 0.1 while he remains among the laborers, will be
equal after his withdrawal, by the law of the decrease of farm-rent, to
0.09. Thus we are led to this final formula: THE MAXIMUM INCOME OF A
PROPRIETOR IS EQUAL TO THE SQUARE ROOT OF THE PRODUCT OF ONE LABORER (some
number being agreed upon to express this product). THE DIMINUTION WHICH
THIS INCOME SUFFERS, IF THE PROPRIETOR IS IDLE, IS EQUAL TO A FRACTION
WHOSE NUMERATOR IS 1, AND WHOSE DENOMINATOR IS THE NUMBER WHICH EXPRESSES
THE PRODUCT.

Thus the maximum income of an idle proprietor, or of one who labors in his
own behalf outside of the community, figured at ten per cent. on an
average production of one thousand francs per laborer, would be ninety
francs. If, then, there are in France one million proprietors with an
income of one thousand francs each, which they consume unproductively,
instead of the one thousand millions which are paid them annually, they
are entitled in strict justice, and by the most accurate calculation, to
ninety millions only.

It is something of a reduction, to take nine hundred and ten millions from
the burdens which weigh so heavily upon the laboring class! Nevertheless,
the account is not finished, and the laborer is still ignorant of the full
extent of his rights.

What is the right of increase when confined within just limits? A
recognition of the right of occupancy. But since all have an equal right
of occupancy, every man is by the same title a proprietor. Every man has a
right to an income equal to a fraction of his product. If, then, the
laborer is obliged by the right of property to pay a rent to the
proprietor, the proprietor is obliged by the same right to pay the same
amount of rent to the laborer; and, since their rights balance each other,
the difference between them is zero.

Scholium.—If farm-rent is only a fraction of the supposed
product of the proprietor, whatever the amount and value of the property,
the same is true in the case of a large number of small and distinct
proprietors. For, although one man may use the property of each
separately, he cannot use the property of all at the same time.

To sum up. The right of increase, which can exist only within very narrow
limits, defined by the laws of production, is annihilated by the right of
occupancy. Now, without the right of increase, there is no property. Then
property is impossible.

FOURTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because it is Homicide.

If the right of increase could be subjected to the laws of reason and
justice, it would be reduced to an indemnity or reward whose MAXIMUM never
could exceed, for a single laborer, a certain fraction of that which he is
capable of producing. This we have just shown. But why should the right of
increase—let us not fear to call it by its right name, the right of
robbery—be governed by reason, with which it has nothing in common?
The proprietor is not content with the increase allotted him by good sense
and the nature of things: he demands ten times, a hundred times, a
thousand times, a million times as much. By his own labor, his property
would yield him a product equal only to one; and he demands of society, no
longer a right proportional to his productive capacity, but a per capita
tax. He taxes his fellows in proportion to their strength, their number,
and their industry. A son is born to a farmer. “Good!” says the
proprietor; “one more chance for increase!” By what process has farm-rent
been thus changed into a poll-tax? Why have our jurists and our
theologians failed, with all their shrewdness, to check the extension of
the right of increase?

The proprietor, having estimated from his own productive capacity the
number of laborers which his property will accommodate, divides it into as
many portions, and says: “Each one shall yield me revenue.” To increase
his income, he has only to divide his property. Instead of reckoning the
interest due him on his labor, he reckons it on his capital; and, by this
substitution, the same property, which in the hands of its owner is
capable of yielding only one, is worth to him ten, a hundred, a thousand,
a million. Consequently, he has only to hold himself in readiness to
register the names of the laborers who apply to him—his task
consists in drafting leases and receipts.

Not satisfied with the lightness of his duties, the proprietor does not
intend to bear even the deficit resulting from his idleness; he throws it
upon the shoulders of the producer, of whom he always demands the same
reward. When the farm-rent of a piece of land is once raised to its
highest point, the proprietor never lowers it; high prices, the scarcity
of labor, the disadvantages of the season, even pestilence itself, have no
effect upon him—why should he suffer from hard times when he does
not labor?

Here commences a new series of phenomena.

Say—who reasons with marvellous clearness whenever he assails
taxation, but who is blind to the fact that the proprietor, as well as the
tax-gatherer, steals from the tenant, and in the same manner—says in
his second letter to Malthus:—

“If the collector of taxes and those who employ him consume one-sixth of
the products, they thereby compel the producers to feed, clothe, and
support themselves on five-sixths of what they produce. They admit this,
but say at the same time that it is possible for each one to live on
five-sixths of what he produces.

“I admit that, if they insist upon it; but I ask if they believe that the
producer would live as well, in case they demanded of him, instead of
one-sixth, two-sixths, or one-third, of their products? No; but he would
still live. Then I ask whether he would still live, in case they should
rob him of two-thirds,… then three-quarters? But I hear no reply.”

If the master of the French economists had been less blinded by his
proprietary prejudices, he would have seen that farm-rent has precisely
the same effect.

Take a family of peasants composed of six persons,—father, mother,
and four children,—living in the country, and cultivating a small
piece of ground. Let us suppose that by hard labor they manage, as the
saying is, to make both ends meet; that, having lodged, warmed, clothed,
and fed themselves, they are clear of debt, but have laid up nothing.
Taking the years together, they contrive to live. If the year is
prosperous, the father drinks a little more wine, the daughters buy
themselves a dress, the sons a hat; they eat a little cheese, and,
occasionally, some meat. I say that these people are on the road to wreck
and ruin.

For, by the third corollary of our axiom, they owe to themselves the
interest on their own capital. Estimating this capital at only eight
thousand francs at two and a half per cent., there is an annual interest
of two hundred francs to be paid. If, then, these two hundred francs,
instead of being subtracted from the gross product to be saved and
capitalized, are consumed, there is an annual deficit of two hundred
francs in the family assets; so that at the end of forty years these good
people, without suspecting it, will have eaten up their property and
become bankrupt!

This result seems ridiculous—it is a sad reality.

The conscription comes. What is the conscription? An act of property
exercised over families by the government without warning—a robbery
of men and money. The peasants do not like to part with their sons,—in
that I do not think them wrong. It is hard for a young man of twenty to
gain any thing by life in the barracks; unless he is depraved, he detests
it. You can generally judge of a soldier’s morality by his hatred of his
uniform. Unfortunate wretches or worthless scamps,—such is the
make-up of the French army. This ought not to be the case,—but so it
is. Question a hundred thousand men, and not one will contradict my
assertion.

Our peasant, in redeeming his two conscripted sons, expends four thousand
francs, which he borrows for that purpose; the interest on this, at five
per cent., is two hundred francs;—a sum equal to that referred to
above. If, up to this time, the production of the family, constantly
balanced by its consumption, has been one thousand two hundred francs, or
two hundred francs per persons—in order to pay this interest, either
the six laborers must produce as much as seven, or must consume as little
as five.

Curtail consumption they cannot—how can they curtail necessity? To
produce more is impossible; they can work neither harder nor longer. Shall
they take a middle course, and consume five and a half while producing six
and a half? They would soon find that with the stomach there is no
compromise—that beyond a certain degree of abstinence it is
impossible to go—that strict necessity can be curtailed but little
without injury to the health; and, as for increasing the product,—there
comes a storm, a drought, an epizootic, and all the hopes of the farmer
are dashed. In short, the rent will not be paid, the interest will
accumulate, the farm will be seized, and the possessor ejected.

Thus a family, which lived in prosperity while it abstained from
exercising the right of property, falls into misery as soon as the
exercise of this right becomes a necessity. Property requires of the
husbandman the double power of enlarging his land, and fertilizing it by a
simple command. While a man is simply possessor of the land, he finds in
it means of subsistence; as soon as he pretends to proprietorship, it
suffices him no longer. Being able to produce only that which he consumes,
the fruit of his labor is his recompense for his trouble—nothing is
left for the instrument.

Required to pay what he cannot produce,—such is the condition of the
tenant after the proprietor has retired from social production in order to
speculate upon the labor of others by new methods.

Let us now return to our first hypothesis.

The nine hundred laborers, sure that their future production will equal
that of the past, are quite surprised, after paying their farm-rent, to
find themselves poorer by one-tenth than they were the previous year. In
fact, this tenth—which was formerly produced and paid by the
proprietor-laborer who then took part in the production, and paid part of
the—public expenses—now has not been produced, and has been
paid. It must then have been taken from the producer’s consumption. To
choke this inexplicable deficit, the laborer borrows, confident of his
intention and ability to return,—a confidence which is shaken the
following year by a new loan, PLUS the interest on the first. From whom
does he borrow? From the proprietor. The proprietor lends his surplus to
the laborer; and this surplus, which he ought to return, becomes—being
lent at interest—a new source of profit to him. Then debts increase
indefinitely; the proprietor makes advances to the producer who never
returns them; and the latter, constantly robbed and constantly borrowing
from the robbers, ends in bankruptcy, defrauded of all that he had.

Suppose that the proprietor—who needs his tenant to furnish him with
an income—then releases him from his debts. He will thus do a very
benevolent deed, which will procure for him a recommendation in the
curate’s prayers; while the poor tenant, overwhelmed by this unstinted
charity, and taught by his catechism to pray for his benefactors, will
promise to redouble his energy, and suffer new hardships that he may
discharge his debt to so kind a master.

This time he takes precautionary measures; he raises the price of grains.
The manufacturer does the same with his products. The reaction comes, and,
after some fluctuation, the farm-rent—which the tenant thought to
put upon the manufacturer’s shoulders—becomes nearly balanced. So
that, while he is congratulating himself upon his success, he finds
himself again impoverished, but to an extent somewhat smaller than before.
For the rise having been general, the proprietor suffers with the rest; so
that the laborers, instead of being poorer by one-tenth, lose only
nine-hundredths. But always it is a debt which necessitates a loan, the
payment of interest, economy, and fasting. Fasting for the nine-hundredths
which ought not to be paid, and are paid; fasting for the redemption of
debts; fasting to pay the interest on them. Let the crop fail, and the
fasting becomes starvation. They say, “IT IS NECESSARY TO WORK MORE.” That
means, obviously, that IT IS NECESSARY TO PRODUCE MORE. By what conditions
is production effected? By the combined action of labor, capital, and
land. As for the labor, the tenant undertakes to furnish it; but capital
is formed only by economy. Now, if the tenant could accumulate any thing,
he would pay his debts. But granting that he has plenty of capital, of
what use would it be to him if the extent of the land which he cultivates
always remained the same? He needs to enlarge his farm.

Will it be said, finally, that he must work harder and to better
advantage? But, in our estimation of farm-rent, we have assumed the
highest possible average of production. Were it not the highest, the
proprietor would increase the farm-rent. Is not this the way in which the
large landed proprietors have gradually raised their rents, as fast as
they have ascertained by the increase in population and the development of
industry how much society can produce from their property? The proprietor
is a foreigner to society; but, like the vulture, his eyes fixed upon his
prey, he holds himself ready to pounce upon and devour it.

The facts to which we have called attention, in a community of one
thousand persons, are reproduced on a large scale in every nation and
wherever human beings live, but with infinite variations and in
innumerable forms, which it is no part of my intention to describe.

In fine, property—after having robbed the laborer by usury—murders
him slowly by starvation. Now, without robbery and murder, property cannot
exist; with robbery and murder, it soon dies for want of support.
Therefore it is impossible.

FIFTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because, if it exists, Society devours itself.

When the ass is too heavily loaded, he lies down; man always moves on.
Upon this indomitable courage, the proprietor—well knowing that it
exists—bases his hopes of speculation. The free laborer produces
ten; for me, thinks the proprietor, he will produce twelve.

Indeed,—before consenting to the confiscation of his fields, before
bidding farewell to the paternal roof,—the peasant, whose story we
have just told, makes a desperate effort; he leases new land; he will sow
one-third more; and, taking half of this new product for himself, he will
harvest an additional sixth, and thereby pay his rent. What an evil! To
add one-sixth to his production, the farmer must add, not one-sixth, but
two-sixths to his labor. At such a price, he pays a farm-rent which in
God’s eyes he does not owe.

The tenant’s example is followed by the manufacturer. The former tills
more land, and dispossesses his neighbors; the latter lowers the price of
his merchandise, and endeavors to monopolize its manufacture and sale, and
to crush out his competitors. To satisfy property, the laborer must first
produce beyond his needs. Then, he must produce beyond his strength; for,
by the withdrawal of laborers who become proprietors, the one always
follows from the other. But to produce beyond his strength and needs, he
must invade the production of another, and consequently diminish the
number of producers. Thus the proprietor—after having lessened
production by stepping outside—lessens it still further by
encouraging the monopoly of labor. Let us calculate it.

The laborer’s deficit, after paying his rent, being, as we have seen,
one-tenth, he tries to increase his production by this amount. He sees no
way of accomplishing this save by increasing his labor: this also he does.
The discontent of the proprietors who have not received the full amount of
their rent; the advantageous offers and promises made them by other
farmers, whom they suppose more diligent, more industrious, and more
reliable; the secret plots and intrigues,—all these give rise to a
movement for the re-division of labor, and the elimination of a certain
number of producers. Out of nine hundred, ninety will be ejected, that the
production of the others may be increased one-tenth. But will the total
product be increased? Not in the least: there will be eight hundred and
ten laborers producing as nine hundred, while, to accomplish their
purpose, they would have to produce as one thousand. Now, it having been
proved that farm-rent is proportional to the landed capital instead of to
labor, and that it never diminishes, the debts must continue as in the
past, while the labor has increased. Here, then, we have a society which
is continually decimating itself, and which would destroy itself, did not
the periodical occurrence of failures, bankruptcies, and political and
economical catastrophes re-establish equilibrium, and distract attention
from the real causes of the universal distress.

The monopoly of land and capital is followed by economical processes which
also result in throwing laborers out of employment. Interest being a
constant burden upon the shoulders of the farmer and the manufacturer,
they exclaim, each speaking for himself, “I should have the means
wherewith to pay my rent and interest, had I not to pay so many hands.”
Then those admirable inventions, intended to assure the easy and speedy
performance of labor, become so many infernal machines which kill laborers
by thousands.

“A few years ago, the Countess of Strafford ejected fifteen thousand
persons from her estate, who, as tenants, added to its value. This act of
private administration was repeated in 1820, by another large Scotch
proprietor, towards six hundred tenants and their families.”—Tissot:
on Suicide and Revolt.

The author whom I quote, and who has written eloquent words concerning the
revolutionary spirit which prevails in modern society, does not say
whether he would have disapproved of a revolt on the part of these exiles.
For myself, I avow boldly that in my eyes it would have been the first of
rights, and the holiest of duties; and all that I desire to-day is that my
profession of faith be understood.

Society devours itself,—1. By the violent and periodical sacrifice
of laborers: this we have just seen, and shall see again; 2. By the
stoppage of the producer’s consumption caused by property. These two modes
of suicide are at first simultaneous; but soon the first is given
additional force by the second, famine uniting with usury to render labor
at once more necessary and more scarce.

By the principles of commerce and political economy, that an industrial
enterprise may be successful, its product must furnish,—1. The
interest on the capital employed; 2. Means for the preservation of this
capital; 3. The wages of all the employees and contractors. Further, as
large a profit as possible must be realized.

The financial shrewdness and rapacity of property is worthy of admiration.
Each different name which increase takes affords the proprietor an
opportunity to receive it,—1. In the form of interest; 2. In the
form of profit. For, it says, a part of the income derived from
manufactures consists of interest on the capital employed. If one hundred
thousand francs have been invested in a manufacturing enterprise, and in a
year’s time five thousand francs have been received therefrom in addition
to the expenses, there has been no profit, but only interest on the
capital. Now, the proprietor is not a man to labor for nothing. Like the
lion in the fable, he gets paid in each of his capacities; so that, after
he has been served, nothing is left for his associates.

I know nothing prettier than this fable.

In four lines, Phaedrus has summed up all the forms of property.

I say that this interest, all the more then this profit, is impossible.

What are laborers in relation to each other? So many members of a large
industrial society, to each of whom is assigned a certain portion of the
general production, by the principle of the division of labor and
functions. Suppose, first, that this society is composed of but three
individuals,—a cattle-raiser, a tanner, and a shoemaker. The social
industry, then, is that of shoemaking. If I should ask what ought to be
each producer’s share of the social product, the first schoolboy whom I
should meet would answer, by a rule of commerce and association, that it
should be one-third. But it is not our duty here to balance the rights of
laborers conventionally associated: we have to prove that, whether
associated or not, our three workers are obliged to act as if they were;
that, whether they will or no, they are associated by the force of things,
by mathematical necessity.

Three processes are required in the manufacture of shoes,—the
rearing of cattle, the preparation of their hides, and the cutting and
sewing. If the hide, on leaving the farmer’s stable, is worth one, it is
worth two on leaving the tanner’s pit, and three on leaving the
shoemaker’s shop. Each laborer has produced a portion of the utility; so
that, by adding all these portions together, we get the value of the
article. To obtain any quantity whatever of this article, each producer
must pay, then, first for his own labor, and second for the labor of the
other producers. Thus, to obtain as many shoes as can be made from ten
hides, the farmer will give thirty raw hides, and the tanner twenty tanned
hides. For, the shoes that are made from ten hides are worth thirty raw
hides, in consequence of the extra labor bestowed upon them; just as
twenty tanned hides are worth thirty raw hides, on account of the tanner’s
labor. But if the shoemaker demands thirty-three in the farmer’s product,
or twenty-two in the tanner’s, for ten in his own, there will be no
exchange; for, if there were, the farmer and the tanner, after having paid
the shoemaker ten for his labor, would have to pay eleven for that which
they had themselves sold for ten,—which, of course, would be
impossible. 18

Well, this is precisely what happens whenever an emolument of any kind is
received; be it called revenue, farm-rent, interest, or profit. In the
little community of which we are speaking, if the shoemaker—in order
to procure tools, buy a stock of leather, and support himself until he
receives something from his investment—borrows money at interest, it
is clear that to pay this interest he will have to make a profit off the
tanner and the farmer. But as this profit is impossible unless fraud is
used, the interest will fall back upon the shoulders of the unfortunate
shoemaker, and ruin him.

I have imagined a case of unnatural simplicity. There is no human society
but sustains more than three vocations. The most uncivilized society
supports numerous industries; to-day, the number of industrial functions
(I mean by industrial functions all useful functions) exceeds, perhaps, a
thousand. However numerous the occupations, the economic law remains the
same,—THAT THE PRODUCER MAY LIVE, HIS WAGES MUST REPURCHASE HIS
PRODUCT.

The economists cannot be ignorant of this rudimentary principle of their
pretended science: why, then, do they so obstinately defend property, and
inequality of wages, and the legitimacy of usury, and the honesty of
profit,—all of which contradict the economic law, and make exchange
impossible? A contractor pays one hundred thousand francs for raw
material, fifty thousand francs in wages, and then expects to receive a
product of two hundred thousand francs,—that is, expects to make a
profit on the material and on the labor of his employees; but if the
laborers and the purveyor of the material cannot, with their combined
wages, repurchase that which they have produced for the contractor, how
can they live? I will develop my question. Here details become necessary.

If the workingman receives for his labor an average of three francs per
day, his employer (in order to gain any thing beyond his own salary, if
only interest on his capital) must sell the day’s labor of his employee,
in the form of merchandise, for more than three francs. The workingman
cannot, then, repurchase that which he has produced for his master. It is
thus with all trades whatsoever. The tailor, the hatter, the
cabinet-maker, the blacksmith, the tanner, the mason, the jeweller, the
printer, the clerk, &c., even to the farmer and wine-grower, cannot
repurchase their products; since, producing for a master who in one form
or another makes a profit, they are obliged to pay more for their own
labor than they get for it.

In France, twenty millions of laborers, engaged in all the branches of
science, art, and industry, produce every thing which is useful to man.
Their annual wages amount, it is estimated to twenty thousand millions;
but, in consequence of the right of property, and the multifarious forms
of increase, premiums, tithes, interests, fines, profits, farm-rents,
house-rents, revenues, emoluments of every nature and description, their
products are estimated by the proprietors and employers at twenty-five
thousand millions. What does that signify? That the laborers, who are
obliged to repurchase these products in order to live, must either pay
five for that which they produced for four, or fast one day in five.

If there is an economist in France able to show that this calculation is
false, I summon him to appear; and I promise to retract all that I have
wrongfully and wickedly uttered in my attacks upon property.

Let us now look at the results of this profit.

If the wages of the workingmen were the same in all pursuits, the deficit
caused by the proprietor’s tax would be felt equally everywhere; but also
the cause of the evil would be so apparent, that it would soon be
discovered and suppressed. But, as there is the same inequality of wages
(from that of the scavenger up to that of the minister of state) as of
property, robbery continually rebounds from the stronger to the weaker; so
that, since the laborer finds his hardships increase as he descends in the
social scale, the lowest class of people are literally stripped naked and
eaten alive by the others.

The laboring people can buy neither the cloth which they weave, nor the
furniture which they manufacture, nor the metal which they forge, nor the
jewels which they cut, nor the prints which they engrave. They can procure
neither the wheat which they plant, nor the wine which they grow, nor the
flesh of the animals which they raise. They are allowed neither to dwell
in the houses which they build, nor to attend the plays which their labor
supports, nor to enjoy the rest which their body requires. And why?
Because the right of increase does not permit these things to be sold at
the cost-price, which is all that laborers can afford to pay. On the signs
of those magnificent warehouses which he in his poverty admires, the
laborer reads in large letters: “This is thy work, and thou shalt not have
it.” Sic vos non vobis!

Every manufacturer who employs one thousand laborers, and gains from them
daily one sou each, is slowly pushing them into a state of misery. Every
man who makes a profit has entered into a conspiracy with famine. But the
whole nation has not even this labor, by means of which property starves
it. And why? Because the workers are forced by the insufficiency of their
wages to monopolize labor; and because, before being destroyed by dearth,
they destroy each other by competition. Let us pursue this truth no
further.

If the laborer’s wages will not purchase his product, it follows that the
product is not made for the producer. For whom, then, is it intended? For
the richer consumer; that is, for only a fraction of society. But when the
whole society labors, it produces for the whole society. If, then, only a
part of society consumes, sooner or later a part of society will be idle.
Now, idleness is death, as well for the laborer as for the proprietor.

This conclusion is inevitable.

The most distressing spectacle imaginable is the sight of producers
resisting and struggling against this mathematical necessity, this power
of figures to which their prejudices blind them.

If one hundred thousand printers can furnish reading-matter enough for
thirty-four millions of men, and if the price of books is so high that
only one-third of that number can afford to buy them, it is clear that
these one hundred thousand printers will produce three times as much as
the booksellers can sell. That the products of the laborers may never
exceed the demands of the consumers, the laborers must either rest two
days out of three, or, separating into three groups, relieve each other
three times a week, month, or quarter; that is, during two-thirds of their
life they must not live. But industry, under the influence of property,
does not proceed with such regularity. It endeavors to produce a great
deal in a short time, because the greater the amount of products, and the
shorter the time of production, the less each product costs. As soon as a
demand begins to be felt, the factories fill up, and everybody goes to
work. Then business is lively, and both governors and governed rejoice.
But the more they work to-day, the more idle will they be hereafter; the
more they laugh, the more they shall weep. Under the rule of property, the
flowers of industry are woven into none but funeral wreaths. The laborer
digs his own grave.

If the factory stops running, the manufacturer has to pay interest on his
capital the same as before. He naturally tries, then, to continue
production by lessening expenses. Then comes the lowering of wages; the
introduction of machinery; the employment of women and children to do the
work of men; bad workmen, and wretched work. They still produce, because
the decreased cost creates a larger market; but they do not produce long,
because, the cheapness being due to the quantity and rapidity of
production, the productive power tends more than ever to outstrip
consumption. It is when laborers, whose wages are scarcely sufficient to
support them from one day to another, are thrown out of work, that the
consequences of the principle of property become most frightful. They have
not been able to economize, they have made no savings, they have
accumulated no capital whatever to support them even one day more. Today
the factory is closed. To-morrow the people starve in the streets. Day
after tomorrow they will either die in the hospital, or eat in the jail.

And still new misfortunes come to complicate this terrible situation. In
consequence of the cessation of business, and the extreme cheapness of
merchandise, the manufacturer finds it impossible to pay the interest on
his borrowed capital; whereupon his frightened creditors hasten to
withdraw their funds. Production is suspended, and labor comes to a
standstill. Then people are astonished to see capital desert commerce, and
throw itself upon the Stock Exchange; and I once heard M. Blanqui bitterly
lamenting the blind ignorance of capitalists. The cause of this movement
of capital is very simple; but for that very reason an economist could not
understand it, or rather must not explain it. The cause lies solely in
COMPETITION.

I mean by competition, not only the rivalry between two parties engaged in
the same business, but the general and simultaneous effort of all kinds of
business to get ahead of each other. This effort is to-day so strong, that
the price of merchandise scarcely covers the cost of production and
distribution; so that, the wages of all laborers being lessened, nothing
remains, not even interest for the capitalists.

The primary cause of commercial and industrial stagnations is, then,
interest on capital,—that interest which the ancients with one
accord branded with the name of usury, whenever it was paid for the use of
money, but which they did not dare to condemn in the forms of house-rent,
farm-rent, or profit: as if the nature of the thing lent could ever
warrant a charge for the lending; that is, robbery.

In proportion to the increase received by the capitalist will be the
frequency and intensity of commercial crises,—the first being given,
we always can determine the two others; and vice versa. Do you wish to
know the regulator of a society? Ascertain the amount of active capital;
that is, the capital bearing interest, and the legal rate of this
interest. The course of events will be a series of overturns, whose number
and violence will be proportional to the activity of capital.

In 1839, the number of failures in Paris alone was one thousand and
sixty-four. This proportion was kept up in the early months of 1840; and,
as I write these lines, the crisis is not yet ended. It is said, further,
that the number of houses which have wound up their business is greater
than the number of declared failures. By this flood, we may judge of the
waterspout’s power of suction.

The decimation of society is now imperceptible and permanent, now
periodical and violent; it depends upon the course which property takes.
In a country where the property is pretty evenly distributed, and where
little business is done,—the rights and claims of each being
balanced by those of others,—the power of invasion is destroyed.
There—it may be truly said—property does not exist, since the
right of increase is scarcely exercised at all. The condition of the
laborers—as regards security of life—is almost the same as if
absolute equality prevailed among them. They are deprived of all the
advantages of full and free association, but their existence is not
endangered in the least. With the exception of a few isolated victims of
the right of property—of this misfortune whose primary cause no one
perceives—the society appears to rest calmly in the bosom of this
sort of equality. But have a care; it is balanced on the edge of a sword:
at the slightest shock, it will fall and meet with death!

Ordinarily, the whirlpool of property localizes itself. On the one hand,
farm-rent stops at a certain point; on the other, in consequence of
competition and over-production, the price of manufactured goods does not
rise,—so that the condition of the peasant varies but little, and
depends mainly on the seasons. The devouring action of property bears,
then, principally upon business. We commonly say COMMERCIAL CRISES, not
AGRICULTURAL CRISES; because, while the farmer is eaten up slowly by the
right of increase, the manufacturer is swallowed at a single mouthful.
This leads to the cessation of business, the destruction of fortunes, and
the inactivity of the working people; who die one after another on the
highways, and in the hospitals, prisons, and galleys.

To sum up this proposition:—

Property sells products to the laborer for more than it pays him for them;
therefore it is impossible.

APPENDIX TO THE FIFTH PROPOSITION.

I. Certain reformers, and even the most of the publicists—who,
though belonging to no particular school, busy themselves in devising
means for the amelioration of the lot of the poorer and more numerous
class—lay much stress now-a-days on a better organization of labor.
The disciples of Fourier, especially, never stop shouting, “ON TO THE
PHALANX!” declaiming in the same breath against the foolishness and
absurdity of other sects.

They consist of half-a-dozen incomparable geniuses who have discovered
that FIVE AND FOUR MAKE NINE; TAKE TWO AWAY, AND NINE REMAIN,—and
who weep over the blindness of France, who refuses to believe in this
astonishing arithmetic. [*]

In fact, the Fourierists proclaim themselves, on the one hand, defenders
of property, of the right of increase, which they have thus formulated: TO
EACH ACCORDING TO HIS CAPITAL, HIS LABOR, AND HIS SKILL. On the other
hand, they wish the workingman to come into the enjoyment of all the
wealth of society; that is,—abridging the expression,—into the
undivided enjoyment of his own product. Is not this like saying to the
workingman, “Labor, you shall have three francs per day; you shall live on
fifty-five sous; you shall give the rest to the proprietor, and thus you
will consume three francs”?

If the above speech is not an exact epitome of Charles Fourier’s system, I
will subscribe to the whole phalansterian folly with a pen dipped in my
own blood.

Of what use is it to reform industry and agriculture,—of what use,
indeed, to labor at all,—if property is maintained, and labor can
never meet its expenses? Without the abolition of property, the
organization of labor is neither more nor less than a delusion. If
production should be quadrupled,—a thing which does not seem to me
at all impossible,—it would be labor lost: if the additional product
was not consumed, it would be of no value, and the proprietor would
decline to receive it as interest; if it was consumed, all the
disadvantages of property would reappear. It must be confessed that the
theory of passional attraction is gravely at fault in this particular, and
that Fourier, when he tried to harmonize the PASSION for property,—a
bad passion, whatever he may say to the contrary,—blocked his own
chariot-wheels.

The absurdity of the phalansterian economy is so gross, that many people
suspect Fourier, in spite of all the homage paid by him to proprietors, of
having been a secret enemy of property. This opinion might be supported by
plausible arguments; still it is not mine. Charlatanism was too important
a part for such a man to play, and sincerity too insignificant a one. I
would rather think Fourier ignorant (which is generally admitted) than
disingenuous. As for his disciples, before they can formulate any opinion
of their own, they must declare once for all, unequivocally and with no
mental reservation, whether they mean to maintain property or not, and
what they mean by their famous motto,—”To each according to his
capital, his labor, and his skill.”

II. But, some half-converted proprietor will observe, “Would it not be
possible, by suppressing the bank, incomes, farm-rent, house-rent, usury
of all kinds, and finally property itself, to proportion products to
capacities? That was St. Simon’s idea; it was also Fourier’s; it is the
desire of the human conscience; and no decent person would dare maintain
that a minister of state should live no better than a peasant.”

O Midas! your ears are long! What! will you never understand that
disparity of wages and the right of increase are one and the same?
Certainly, St. Simon, Fourier, and their respective flocks committed a
serious blunder in attempting to unite, the one, inequality and communism;
the other, inequality and property: but you, a man of figures, a man of
economy,—you, who know by heart your LOGARITHMIC tables,—how
can you make so stupid a mistake?

Does not political economy itself teach you that the product of a man,
whatever be his individual capacity, is never worth more than his labor,
and that a man’s labor is worth no more than his consumption? You remind
me of that great constitution-framer, poor Pinheiro-Ferreira, the Sieyes
of the nineteenth century, who, dividing the citizens of a nation into
twelve classes,—or, if you prefer, into twelve grades,—assigned
to some a salary of one hundred thousand francs each; to others, eighty
thousand; then twenty-five thousand, fifteen thousand, ten thousand, &c.,
down to one thousand five hundred, and one thousand francs, the minimum
allowance of a citizen. Pinheiro loved distinctions, and could no more
conceive of a State without great dignitaries than of an army without
drum-majors; and as he also loved, or thought he loved, liberty, equality,
and fraternity, he combined the good and the evil of our old society in an
eclectic philosophy which he embodied in a constitution. Excellent
Pinheiro! Liberty even to passive submission, fraternity even to identity
of language, equality even in the jury-box and at the guillotine,—such
was his ideal republic. Unappreciated genius, of whom the present century
was unworthy, but whom the future will avenge!

Listen, proprietor. Inequality of talent exists in fact; in right it is
not admissible, it goes for nothing, it is not thought of. One Newton in a
century is equal to thirty millions of men; the psychologist admires the
rarity of so fine a genius, the legislator sees only the rarity of the
function. Now, rarity of function bestows no privilege upon the
functionary; and that for several reasons, all equally forcible.

1. Rarity of genius was not, in the Creator’s design, a motive to compel
society to go down on its knees before the man of superior talents, but a
providential means for the performance of all functions to the greatest
advantage of all.

2. Talent is a creation of society rather than a gift of Nature; it is an
accumulated capital, of which the receiver is only the guardian. Without
society,—without the education and powerful assistance which it
furnishes,—the finest nature would be inferior to the most ordinary
capacities in the very respect in which it ought to shine. The more
extensive a man’s knowledge, the more luxuriant his imagination, the more
versatile his talent,—the more costly has his education been, the
more remarkable and numerous were his teachers and his models, and the
greater is his debt. The farmer produces from the time that he leaves his
cradle until he enters his grave: the fruits of art and science are late
and scarce; frequently the tree dies before the fruit ripens. Society, in
cultivating talent, makes a sacrifice to hope.

3. Capacities have no common standard of comparison: the conditions of
development being equal, inequality of talent is simply speciality of
talent.

4. Inequality of wages, like the right of increase, is economically
impossible. Take the most favorable case,—that where each laborer
has furnished his maximum production; that there may be an equitable
distribution of products, the share of each must be equal to the quotient
of the total production divided by the number of laborers. This done, what
remains wherewith to pay the higher wages? Nothing whatever.

Will it be said that all laborers should be taxed? But, then, their
consumption will not be equal to their production, their wages will not
pay for their productive service, they will not be able to repurchase
their product, and we shall once more be afflicted with all the calamities
of property. I do not speak of the injustice done to the defrauded
laborer, of rivalry, of excited ambition, and burning hatred,—these
may all be important considerations, but they do not hit the point.

On the one hand, each laborer’s task being short and easy, and the means
for its successful accomplishment being equal in all cases, how could
there be large and small producers? On the other hand, all functions being
equal, either on account of the actual equivalence of talents and
capacities, or on account of social co-operation, how could a functionary
claim a salary proportional to the worth of his genius?

But, what do I say? In equality wages are always proportional to talents.
What is the economical meaning of wages? The reproductive consumption of
the laborer. The very act by which the laborer produces constitutes, then,
this consumption, exactly equal to his production, of which we are
speaking. When the astronomer produces observations, the poet verses, or
the savant experiments, they consume instruments, books, travels, &c.,
&c.; now, if society supplies this consumption, what more can the
astronomer, the savant, or the poet demand? We must conclude, then, that
in equality, and only in equality, St. Simon’s adage—TO EACH
ACCORDING TO HIS CAPACITY TO EACH CAPACITY ACCORDING TO ITS RESULTS—finds
its full and complete application.

III. The great evil—the horrible and ever-present evil—arising
from property, is that, while property exists, population, however
reduced, is, and always must be, over-abundant. Complaints have been made
in all ages of the excess of population; in all ages property has been
embarrassed by the presence of pauperism, not perceiving that it caused
it. Further,—nothing is more curious than the diversity of the plans
proposed for its extermination. Their atrocity is equalled only by their
absurdity.

The ancients made a practice of abandoning their children. The wholesale
and retail slaughter of slaves, civil and foreign wars, also lent their
aid. In Rome (where property held full sway), these three means were
employed so effectively, and for so long a time, that finally the empire
found itself without inhabitants. When the barbarians arrived, nobody was
to be found; the fields were no longer cultivated; grass grew in the
streets of the Italian cities.

In China, from time immemorial, upon famine alone has devolved the task of
sweeping away the poor. The people living almost exclusively upon rice, if
an accident causes the crop to fail, in a few days hunger kills the
inhabitants by myriads; and the Chinese historian records in the annals of
the empire, that in such a year of such an emperor twenty, thirty, fifty,
one hundred thousand inhabitants died of starvation. Then they bury the
dead, and recommence the production of children until another famine leads
to the same result. Such appears to have been, in all ages, the Confucian
economy.

I borrow the following facts from a modern economist:—

“Since the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, England has been preyed
upon by pauperism. At that time beggars were punished by law.”
Nevertheless, she had not one-fourth as large a population as she has
to-day.

“Edward prohibits alms-giving, on pain of imprisonment…. The laws of
1547 and 1656 prescribe a like punishment, in case of a second offence.
Elizabeth orders that each parish shall support its own paupers. But what
is a pauper? Charles II. decides that an UNDISPUTED residence of forty
days constitutes a settlement in a parish; but, if disputed, the new-comer
is forced to pack off. James II. modifies this decision, which is again
modified by William. In the midst of trials, reports, and modifications,
pauperism increases, and the workingman languishes and dies.

“The poor-tax in 1774 exceeded forty millions of francs; in 1783-4-5, it
averaged fifty-three millions; 1813, more than a hundred and eighty-seven
millions five hundred thousand francs; 1816, two hundred and fifty
millions; in 1817, it is estimated at three hundred and seventeen
millions.

“In 1821, the number of paupers enrolled upon the parish lists was
estimated at four millions, nearly one-third of the population.

“FRANCE. In 1544, Francis I. establishes a compulsory tax in behalf of the
poor. In 1566 and 1586, the same principle is applied to the whole
kingdom.

“Under Louis XIV., forty thousand paupers infested the capital [as many in
proportion as to-day]. Mendicity was punished severely. In 1740, the
Parliament of Paris re-establishes within its own jurisdiction the
compulsory assessment.

“The Constituent Assembly, frightened at the extent of the evil and the
difficulty of curing it, ordains the statu quo.

“The Convention proclaims assistance of the poor to be a NATIONAL DEBT.
Its law remains unexecuted.

“Napoleon also wishes to remedy the evil: his idea is imprisonment. ‘In
that way,’ said he, ‘I shall protect the rich from the importunity of
beggars, and shall relieve them of the disgusting sight of abject
poverty.'” O wonderful man!

From these facts, which I might multiply still farther, two things are to
be inferred,—the one, that pauperism is independent of population;
the other, that all attempts hitherto made at its extermination have
proved abortive.

Catholicism founds hospitals and convents, and commands charity; that is,
she encourages mendicity. That is the extent of her insight as voiced by
her priests.

The secular power of Christian nations now orders taxes on the rich, now
banishment and imprisonment for the poor; that is, on the one hand,
violation of the right of property, and, on the other, civil death and
murder.

The modern economists—thinking that pauperism is caused by the
excess of population, exclusively—have devoted themselves to
devising checks. Some wish to prohibit the poor from marrying; thus,—having
denounced religious celibacy,—they propose compulsory celibacy,
which will inevitably become licentious celibacy.

Others do not approve this method, which they deem too violent; and which,
they say, deprives the poor man of THE ONLY PLEASURE WHICH HE KNOWS IN
THIS WORLD. They would simply recommend him to be PRUDENT. This opinion is
held by Malthus, Sismondi, Say, Droz, Duchatel, &c. But if the poor
are to be PRUDENT, the rich must set the example. Why should the
marriageable age of the latter be fixed at eighteen years, while that of
the former is postponed until thirty?

Again, they would do well to explain clearly what they mean by this
matrimonial prudence which they so urgently recommend to the laborer; for
here equivocation is especially dangerous, and I suspect that the
economists are not thoroughly understood. “Some half-enlightened
ecclesiastics are alarmed when they hear prudence in marriage advised;
they fear that the divine injunction—INCREASE AND MULTIPLY—is
to be set aside. To be logical, they must anathematize bachelors.” (J.
Droz: Political Economy.)

M. Droz is too honest a man, and too little of a theologian, to see why
these casuists are so alarmed; and this chaste ignorance is the very best
evidence of the purity of his heart. Religion never has encouraged early
marriages; and the kind of PRUDENCE which it condemns is that described in
this Latin sentence from Sanchez,—An licet ob metum liberorum
semen extra vas ejicere?

Destutt de Tracy seems to dislike prudence in either form. He says: “I
confess that I no more share the desire of the moralists to diminish and
restrain our pleasures, than that of the politicians to increase our
procreative powers, and accelerate reproduction.” He believes, then, that
we should love and marry when and as we please. Widespread misery results
from love and marriage, but this our philosopher does not heed. True to
the dogma of the necessity of evil, to evil he looks for the solution of
all problems. He adds: “The multiplication of men continuing in all
classes of society, the surplus members of the upper classes are supported
by the lower classes, and those of the latter are destroyed by poverty.”
This philosophy has few avowed partisans; but it has over every other the
indisputable advantage of demonstration in practice. Not long since France
heard it advocated in the Chamber of Deputies, in the course of the
discussion on the electoral reform,—POVERTY WILL ALWAYS EXIST. That
is the political aphorism with which the minister of state ground to
powder the arguments of M. Arago. POVERTY WILL ALWAYS EXIST! Yes, so long
as property does.

The Fourierists—INVENTORS of so many marvellous contrivances—could
not, in this field, belie their character. They invented four methods of
checking increase of population at will.

1. THE VIGOR OF WOMEN. On this point they are contradicted by experience;
for, although vigorous women may be less likely to conceive, nevertheless
they give birth to the healthiest children; so that the advantage of
maternity is on their side.

2. INTEGRAL EXERCISE, or the equal development of all the physical powers.
If this development is equal, how is the power of reproduction lessened?

3. THE GASTRONOMIC REGIME; or, in plain English, the philosophy of the
belly. The Fourierists say, that abundance of rich food renders women
sterile; just as too much sap—while enhancing the beauty of flowers—destroys
their reproductive capacity. But the analogy is a false one. Flowers
become sterile when the stamens—or male organs—are changed
into petals, as may be seen by inspecting a rose; and when through
excessive dampness the pollen loses its fertilizing power. Then,—in
order that the gastronomic regime may produce the results claimed for it,—not
only must the females be fattened, but the males must be rendered
impotent.

4. PHANEROGAMIC MORALITY, or public concubinage. I know not why the
phalansterians use Greek words to convey ideas which can be expressed so
clearly in French. This method—like the preceding one—is
copied from civilized customs. Fourier, himself, cites the example of
prostitutes as a proof. Now we have no certain knowledge yet of the facts
which he quotes. So states Parent Duchatelet in his work on
“Prostitution.”

From all the information which I have been able to gather, I find that all
the remedies for pauperism and fecundity—sanctioned by universal
practice, philosophy, political economy, and the latest reformers—may
be summed up in the following list: masturbation, onanism, 19
sodomy, tribadie, polyandry, 20 prostitution, castration,
continence, abortion, and infanticide. 21

All these methods being proved inadequate, there remains proscription.

Unfortunately, proscription, while decreasing the number of the poor,
increases their proportion. If the interest charged by the proprietor upon
the product is equal only to one-twentieth of the product (by law it is
equal to one-twentieth of the capital), it follows that twenty laborers
produce for nineteen only; because there is one among them, called
proprietor, who eats the share of two. Suppose that the twentieth laborer—the
poor one—is killed: the production of the following year will be
diminished one-twentieth; consequently the nineteenth will have to yield
his portion, and perish. For, since it is not one-twentieth of the product
of nineteen which must be paid to the proprietor, but one-twentieth of the
product of twenty (see third proposition), each surviving laborer must
sacrifice one-twentieth PLUS one four-hundredth of his product; in other
words, one man out of nineteen must be killed. Therefore, while property
exists, the more poor people we kill, the more there are born in
proportion.

Malthus, who proved so clearly that population increases in geometrical
progression, while production increases only in arithmetical progression,
did not notice this PAUPERIZING power of property. Had he observed this,
he would have understood that, before trying to check reproduction, the
right of increase should be abolished; because, wherever that right is
tolerated, there are always too many inhabitants, whatever the extent or
fertility of the soil.

It will be asked, perhaps, how I would maintain a balance between
population and production; for sooner or later this problem must be
solved. The reader will pardon me, if I do not give my method here. For,
in my opinion, it is useless to say a thing unless we prove it. Now, to
explain my method fully would require no less than a formal treatise. It
is a thing so simple and so vast, so common and so extraordinary, so true
and so misunderstood, so sacred and so profane, that to name it without
developing and proving it would serve only to excite contempt and
incredulity. One thing at a time. Let us establish equality, and this
remedy will soon appear; for truths follow each other, just as crimes and
errors do.

SIXTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because it is the Mother of Tyranny.

What is government? Government is public economy, the supreme
administrative power over public works and national possessions.

Now, the nation is like a vast society in which all the citizens are
stockholders. Each one has a deliberative voice in the assembly; and, if
the shares are equal, has one vote at his disposal. But, under the regime
of property, there is great inequality between the shares of the
stockholders; therefore, one may have several hundred votes, while another
has only one. If, for example, I enjoy an income of one million; that is,
if I am the proprietor of a fortune of thirty or forty millions well
invested, and if this fortune constitutes 1/30000 of the national capital,—it
is clear that the public administration of my property would form 1/30000
of the duties of the government; and, if the nation had a population of
thirty-four millions, that I should have as many votes as one thousand one
hundred and thirty-three simple stockholders.

Thus, when M. Arago demands the right of suffrage for all members of the
National Guard, he is perfectly right; since every citizen is enrolled for
at least one national share, which entitles him to one vote. But the
illustrious orator ought at the same time to demand that each elector
shall have as many votes as he has shares; as is the case in commercial
associations. For to do otherwise is to pretend that the nation has a
right to dispose of the property of individuals without consulting them;
which is contrary to the right of property. In a country where property
exists, equality of electoral rights is a violation of property.

Now, if each citizen’s sovereignty must and ought to be proportional to
his property, it follows that the small stock holders are at the mercy of
the larger ones; who will, as soon as they choose, make slaves of the
former, marry them at pleasure, take from them their wives, castrate their
sons, prostitute their daughters, throw the aged to the sharks,—and
finally will be forced to serve themselves in the same way, unless they
prefer to tax themselves for the support of their servants. In such a
condition is Great Britain to-day. John Bull—caring little for
liberty, equality, or dignity—prefers to serve and beg. But you,
bonhomme Jacques?

Property is incompatible with political and civil equality; then property
is impossible.

HISTORICAL COMMENTS.—1. When the vote of the third estate was
doubled by the States-General of 1789, property was grossly violated. The
nobility and the clergy possessed three-fourths of the soil of France;
they should have controlled three-fourths of the votes in the national
representation. To double the vote of the third estate was just, it is
said, since the people paid nearly all the taxes. This argument would be
sound, if there were nothing to be voted upon but taxes. But it was a
question at that time of reforming the government and the constitution;
consequently, the doubling of the vote of the third estate was a
usurpation, and an attack on property.

2. If the present representatives of the radical opposition should come
into power, they would work a reform by which every National Guard should
be an elector, and every elector eligible for office,—an attack on
property.

They would lower the rate of interest on public funds,—an attack on
property.

They would, in the interest of the public, pass laws to regulate the
exportation of cattle and wheat,—an attack on property.

They would alter the assessment of taxes,—an attack on property.

They would educate the people gratuitously,—a conspiracy against
property.

They would organize labor; that is, they would guarantee labor to the
workingman, and give him a share in the profits,—the abolition of
property.

Now, these same radicals are zealous defenders of property,—a
radical proof that they know not what they do, nor what they wish.

3. Since property is the grand cause of privilege and despotism, the form
of the republican oath should be changed. Instead of, “I swear hatred to
royalty,” henceforth the new member of a secret society should say, “I
swear hatred to property.”

SEVENTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because, in consuming its Receipts, it loses
them; in hoarding them, it nullifies them; and in using them as Capital,
it turns them against Production.

I. If, with the economists, we consider the laborer as a living machine,
we must regard the wages paid to him as the amount necessary to support
this machine, and keep it in repair. The head of a manufacturing
establishment—who employs laborers at three, five, ten, and fifteen
francs per day, and who charges twenty francs for his superintendence—does
not regard his disbursements as losses, because he knows they will return
to him in the form of products. Consequently, LABOR and REPRODUCTIVE
CONSUMPTION are identical.

What is the proprietor? He is a machine which does not work; or, which
working for its own pleasure, and only when it sees fit, produces nothing.

What is it to consume as a proprietor? It is to consume without working,
to consume without reproducing. For, once more, that which the proprietor
consumes as a laborer comes back to him; he does not give his labor in
exchange for his property, since, if he did, he would thereby cease to be
a proprietor. In consuming as a laborer, the proprietor gains, or at least
does not lose, since he recovers that which he consumes; in consuming as a
proprietor, he impoverishes himself. To enjoy property, then, it is
necessary to destroy it; to be a real proprietor, one must cease to be a
proprietor.

The laborer who consumes his wages is a machine which destroys and
reproduces; the proprietor who consumes his income is a bottomless gulf,—sand
which we water, a stone which we sow. So true is this, that the proprietor—neither
wishing nor knowing how to produce, and perceiving that as fast as he uses
his property he destroys it for ever—has taken the precaution to
make some one produce in his place. That is what political economy,
speaking in the name of eternal justice, calls PRODUCING BY HIS CAPITAL,—PRODUCING
BY HIS TOOLS. And that is what ought to be called PRODUCING BY A SLAVE—PRODUCING
AS A THIEF AND AS A TYRANT. He, the proprietor, produce!… The robber
might say, as well: “I produce.”

The consumption of the proprietor has been styled luxury, in opposition to
USEFUL consumption. From what has just been said, we see that great luxury
can prevail in a nation which is not rich,—that poverty even
increases with luxury, and vice versa. The economists (so much credit must
be given them, at least) have caused such a horror of luxury, that to-day
a very large number of proprietors—not to say almost all—ashamed
of their idleness—labor, economize, and capitalize. They have jumped
from the frying-pan into the fire.

I cannot repeat it too often: the proprietor who thinks to deserve his
income by working, and who receives wages for his labor, is a functionary
who gets paid twice; that is the only difference between an idle
proprietor and a laboring proprietor. By his labor, the proprietor
produces his wages only—not his income. And since his condition
enables him to engage in the most lucrative pursuits, it may be said that
the proprietor’s labor harms society more than it helps it. Whatever the
proprietor does, the consumption of his income is an actual loss, which
his salaried functions neither repair nor justify; and which would
annihilate property, were it not continually replenished by outside
production.

II. Then, the proprietor who consumes annihilates the product: he does
much worse if he lays it up. The things which he lays by pass into another
world; nothing more is seen of them, not even the caput mortuum,—the
smoke. If we had some means of transportation by which to travel to the
moon, and if the proprietors should be seized with a sudden fancy to carry
their savings thither, at the end of a certain time our terraqueous planet
would be transported by them to its satellite!

The proprietor who lays up products will neither allow others to enjoy
them, nor enjoy them himself; for him there is neither possession nor
property. Like the miser, he broods over his treasures: he does not use
them. He may feast his eyes upon them; he may lie down with them; he may
sleep with them in his arms: all very fine, but coins do not breed coins.
No real property without enjoyment; no enjoyment without consumption; no
consumption without loss of property,—such is the inflexible
necessity to which God’s judgment compels the proprietor to bend. A curse
upon property!

III. The proprietor who, instead of consuming his income, uses it as
capital, turns it against production, and thereby makes it impossible for
him to exercise his right. For the more he increases the amount of
interest to be paid upon it, the more he is compelled to diminish wages.
Now, the more he diminishes wages,—that is, the less he devotes to
the maintenance and repair of the machines,—the more he diminishes
the quantity of labor; and with the quantity of labor the quantity of
product, and with the quantity of product the very source of his income.
This is clearly shown by the following example:—

Take an estate consisting of arable land, meadows, and vineyards,
containing the dwellings of the owner and the tenant; and worth, together
with the farming implements, one hundred thousand francs, the rate of
increase being three per cent. If, instead of consuming his revenue, the
proprietor uses it, not in enlarging but in beautifying his estate, can he
annually demand of his tenant an additional ninety francs on account of
the three thousand francs which he has thus added to his capital?
Certainly not; for on such conditions the tenant, though producing no more
than before, would soon be obliged to labor for nothing,—what do I
say? to actually suffer loss in order to hold his lease.

In fact, revenue can increase only as productive soil increases: it is
useless to build walls of marble, and work with plows of gold. But, since
it is impossible to go on acquiring for ever, to add estate to estate, to
CONTINUE ONE’S POSSESSIONS, as the Latins said; and since, moreover, the
proprietor always has means wherewith to capitalize,—it follows that
the exercise of his right finally becomes impossible.

Well, in spite of this impossibility, property capitalizes, and in
capitalizing increases its revenue; and, without stopping to look at the
particular cases which occur in commerce, manufacturing operations, and
banking, I will cite a graver fact,—one which directly affects all
citizens. I mean the indefinite increase of the budget.

The taxes increase every year. It would be difficult to tell in which
department of the government the expenses increase; for who can boast of
any knowledge as to the budget? On this point, the ablest financiers
continually disagree. What is to be thought, I ask, of the science of
government, when its professors cannot understand one another’s figures?
Whatever be the immediate causes of this growth of the budget, it is
certain that taxation increases at a rate which causes everybody to
despair. Everybody sees it, everybody acknowledges it; but nobody seems to
understand the primary cause.[*] Now, I say that it cannot be otherwise,—that
it is necessary and inevitable.

A nation is the tenant of a rich proprietor called the GOVERNMENT, to whom
it pays, for the use of the soil, a farm-rent called a tax. Whenever the
government makes war, loses or gains a battle, changes the outfit of its
army, erects a monu-ment, digs a canal, opens a road, or builds a railway,
it borrows money, on which the tax-payers pay interest; that is, the
government, without adding to its productive capacity, increases its
active capital,—in a word, capitalizes after the manner of the
proprietor of whom I have just spoken.

Now, when a governmental loan is once contracted, and the interest is once
stipulated, the budget cannot be reduced. For, to accomplish that, either
the capitalists must relinquish their interest, which would involve an
abandonment of property; or the government must go into bankruptcy, which
would be a fraudulent denial of the political principle; or it must pay
the debt, which would require another loan; or it must reduce expenses,
which is impossible, since the loan was contracted for the sole reason
that the ordinary receipts were insufficient; or the money expended by the
government must be reproductive, which requires an increase of productive
capacity,—a condition excluded by our hypothesis; or, finally, the
tax-payers must submit to a new tax in order to pay the debt,—an
impossible thing. For, if this new tax were levied upon all citizens
alike, half, or even more, of the citizens would be unable to pay it; if
the rich had to bear the whole, it would be a forced contribution,—an
invasion of property. Long financial experience has shown that the method
of loans, though exceedingly dangerous, is much surer, more convenient,
and less costly than any other method; consequently the government
borrows,—that is, goes on capitalizing,—and increases the
budget.

Then, a budget, instead of ever diminishing, must necessarily and
continually increase. It is astonishing that the economists, with all
their learning, have failed to perceive a fact so simple and so evident.
If they have perceived it, why have they neglected to condemn it?

HISTORICAL COMMENT.—Much interest is felt at present in a financial
operation which is expected to result in a reduction of the budget. It is
proposed to change the present rate of increase, five per cent. Laying
aside the politico-legal question to deal only with the financial
question,—is it not true that, when five per cent. is changed to
four per cent., it will then be necessary, for the same reasons, to change
four to three; then three to two, then two to one, and finally to sweep
away increase altogether? But that would be the advent of equality of
conditions and the abolition of property. Now it seems to me, that an
intelligent nation should voluntarily meet an inevitable revolution half
way, instead of suffering itself to be dragged after the car of inflexible
necessity.

EIGHTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because its power of Accumulation is infinite, and
is exercised only over finite quantities.

If men, living in equality, should grant to one of their number the
exclusive right of property; and this sole proprietor should lend one
hundred francs to the human race at compound interest, payable to his
descendants twenty-four generations hence,—at the end of six hundred
years this sum of one hundred francs, at five per cent., would amount to
107,854,010,777,600 francs; two thousand six hundred and ninety-six and
one-third times the capital of France (supposing her capital to be
40,000,000,000), or more than twenty times the value of the terrestrial
globe!

Suppose that a man, in the reign of St. Louis, had borrowed one hundred
francs, and had refused,—he and his heirs after him,—to return
it. Even though it were known that the said heirs were not the rightful
possessors, and that prescription had been interrupted always at the right
moment,—nevertheless, by our laws, the last heir would be obliged to
return the one hundred francs with interest, and interest on the interest;
which in all would amount, as we have seen, to nearly one hundred and
eight thousand billions.

Every day, fortunes are growing in our midst much more rapidly than this.
The preceding example supposed the interest equal to one-twentieth of the
capital,—it often equals one-tenth, one-fifth, one-half of the
capital; and sometimes the capital itself.

The Fourierists—irreconcilable enemies of equality, whose partisans
they regard as SHARKS—intend, by quadrupling production, to satisfy
all the demands of capital, labor, and skill. But, should production be
multiplied by four, ten, or even one hundred, property would soon absorb,
by its power of accumulation and the effects of its capitalization, both
products and capital, and the land, and even the laborers. Is the
phalanstery to be prohibited from capitalizing and lending at interest?
Let it explain, then, what it means by property.

I will carry these calculations no farther. They are capable of infinite
variation, upon which it would be puerile for me to insist. I only ask by
what standard judges, called upon to decide a suit for possession, fix the
interest? And, developing the question, I ask,—

Did the legislator, in introducing into the Republic the principle of
property, weigh all the consequences? Did he know the law of the possible?
If he knew it, why is it not in the Code? Why is so much latitude allowed
to the proprietor in accumulating property and charging interest,—to
the judge in recognizing and fixing the domain of property,—to the
State in its power to levy new taxes continually? At what point is the
nation justified in repudiating the budget, the tenant his farm-rent, and
the manufacturer the interest on his capital? How far may the idler take
advantage of the laborer? Where does the right of spoliation begin, and
where does it end? When may the producer say to the proprietor, “I owe you
nothing more”? When is property satisfied? When must it cease to steal?

If the legislator did know the law of the possible, and disregarded it,
what must be thought of his justice? If he did not know it, what must be
thought of his wisdom? Either wicked or foolish, how can we recognize his
authority?

If our charters and our codes are based upon an absurd hypothesis, what is
taught in the law-schools? What does a judgment of the Court of Appeal
amount to? About what do our Chambers deliberate? What is POLITICS? What
is our definition of a STATESMAN? What is the meaning of JURISPRUDENCE?
Should we not rather say JURISIGNORANCE?

If all our institutions are based upon an error in calculation, does it
not follow that these institutions are so many shams? And if the entire
social structure is built upon this absolute impossibility of property, is
it not true that the government under which we live is a chimera, and our
present society a utopia?

NINTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because it is powerless against Property.

I. By the third corollary of our axiom, interest tells against the
proprietor as well as the stranger. This economical principle is
universally admitted. Nothing simpler at first blush; yet, nothing more
absurd, more contradictory in terms, or more absolutely impossible.

The manufacturer, it is said, pays himself the rent on his house and
capital. HE PAYS HIMSELF; that is, he gets paid by the public who buy his
products. For, suppose the manufacturer, who seems to make this profit on
his property, wishes also to make it on his merchandise, can he then pay
himself one franc for that which cost him ninety centimes, and make money
by the operation? No: such a transaction would transfer the merchant’s
money from his right hand to his left, but without any profit whatever.

Now, that which is true of a single individual trading with himself is
true also of the whole business world. Form a chain of ten, fifteen,
twenty producers; as many as you wish. If the producer A makes a profit
out of the producer B. B’s loss must, according to economical principles,
be made up by C, C’s by D; and so on through to Z.

But by whom will Z be paid for the loss caused him by the profit charged
by A in the beginning? BY THE CONSUMER, replies Say. Contemptible
equivocation! Is this consumer any other, then, than A, B. C, D, &c.,
or Z? By whom will Z be paid? If he is paid by A, no one makes a profit;
consequently, there is no property. If, on the contrary, Z bears the
burden himself, he ceases to be a member of society; since it refuses him
the right of property and profit, which it grants to the other associates.

Since, then, a nation, like universal humanity, is a vast industrial
association which cannot act outside of itself, it is clear that no man
can enrich himself without impoverishing another. For, in order that the
right of property, the right of increase, may be respected in the case of
A, it must be denied to Z; thus we see how equality of rights, separated
from equality of conditions, may be a truth. The iniquity of political
economy in this respect is flagrant. “When I, a manufacturer, purchase the
labor of a workingman, I do not include his wages in the net product of my
business; on the contrary, I deduct them. But the workingman includes them
in his net product…. “(Say: Political Economy.)

That means that all which the workingman gains is NET PRODUCT; but that
only that part of the manufacturer’s gains is NET PRODUCT, which remains
after deducting his wages. But why is the right of profit confined to the
manufacturer? Why is this right, which is at bottom the right of property
itself, denied to the workingman? In the terms of economical science, the
workingman is capital. Now, all capital, beyond the cost of its
maintenance and repair, must bear interest. This the proprietor takes care
to get, both for his capital and for himself. Why is the workingman
prohibited from charging a like interest for his capital, which is
himself?

Property, then, is inequality of rights; for, if it were not inequality of
rights, it would be equality of goods,—in other words, it would not
exist. Now, the charter guarantees to all equality of rights. Then, by the
charter, property is impossible.

II. Is A, the proprietor of an estate, entitled by the fact of his
proprietorship to take possession of the field belonging to B. his
neighbor? “No,” reply the proprietors; “but what has that to do with the
right of property?” That I shall show you by a series of similar
propositions.

Has C, a hatter, the right to force D, his neighbor and also a hatter, to
close his shop, and cease his business? Not the least in the world.

But C wishes to make a profit of one franc on every hat, while D is
content with fifty centimes. It is evident that D’s moderation is
injurious to C’s extravagant claims. Has the latter a right to prevent D
from selling? Certainly not.

Since D is at liberty to sell his hats fifty centimes cheaper than C if he
chooses, C in his turn is free to reduce his price one franc. Now, D is
poor, while C is rich; so that at the end of two or three years D is
ruined by this intolerable competition, and C has complete control of the
market. Can the proprietor D get any redress from the proprietor C? Can he
bring a suit against him to recover his business and property? No; for D
could have done the same thing, had he been the richer of the two.

On the same ground, the large proprietor A may say to the small proprietor
B: “Sell me your field, otherwise you shall not sell your wheat,”—and
that without doing him the least wrong, or giving him ground for
complaint. So that A can devour B if he likes, for the very reason that A
is stronger than B. Consequently, it is not the right of property which
enables A and C to rob B and D, but the right of might. By the right of
property, neither the two neighbors A and B, nor the two merchants C and
D, could harm each other. They could neither dispossess nor destroy one
another, nor gain at one another’s expense. The power of invasion lies in
superior strength.

But it is superior strength also which enables the manufacturer to reduce
the wages of his employees, and the rich merchant and well-stocked
proprietor to sell their products for what they please. The manufacturer
says to the laborer, “You are as free to go elsewhere with your services
as I am to receive them. I offer you so much.” The merchant says to the
customer, “Take it or leave it; you are master of your money, as I am of
my goods. I want so much.” Who will yield? The weaker.

Therefore, without force, property is powerless against property, since
without force it has no power to increase; therefore, without force,
property is null and void.

HISTORICAL COMMENT.—The struggle between colonial and native sugars
furnishes us a striking example of this impossibility of property. Leave
these two industries to themselves, and the native manufacturer will be
ruined by the colonist. To maintain the beet-root, the cane must be taxed:
to protect the property of the one, it is necessary to injure the property
of the other. The most remarkable feature of this business is precisely
that to which the least attention is paid; namely, that, in one way or
another, property has to be violated. Impose on each industry a
proportional tax, so as to preserve a balance in the market, and you
create a MAXIMUM PRICE,—you attack property in two ways. On the one
hand, your tax interferes with the liberty of trade; on the other, it does
not recognize equality of proprietors. Indemnify the beet-root, you
violate the property of the tax-payer. Cultivate the two varieties of
sugar at the nation’s expense, just as different varieties of tobacco are
cultivated,—you abolish one species of property. This last course
would be the simpler and better one; but, to induce the nations to adopt
it, requires such a co-operation of able minds and generous hearts as is
at present out of the question.

Competition, sometimes called liberty of trade,—in a word, property
in exchange,—will be for a long time the basis of our commercial
legislation; which, from the economical point of view, embraces all civil
laws and all government. Now, what is competition? A duel in a closed
field, where arms are the test of right.

“Who is the liar,—the accused or the accuser?” said our barbarous
ancestors. “Let them fight it out,” replied the still more barbarous
judge; “the stronger is right.”

Which of us two shall sell spices to our neighbor? “Let each offer them
for sale,” cries the economist; “the sharper, or the more cunning, is the
more honest man, and the better merchant.”

Such is the exact spirit of the Code Napoleon.

TENTH PROPOSITION.

Property is impossible, because it is the Negation of equality.

The development of this proposition will be the resume of the preceding
ones.

1. It is a principle of economical justice, that PRODUCTS ARE BOUGHT ONLY
BY PRODUCTS. Property, being capable of defence only on the ground that it
produces utility, is, since it produces nothing, for ever condemned.

2. It is an economical law, that LABOR MUST BE BALANCED BY PRODUCT. It is
a fact that, with property, production costs more than it is worth.

3. Another economical law: THE CAPITAL BEING GIVEN, PRODUCTION IS
MEASURED, NOT BY THE AMOUNT OF CAPITAL, BUT BY PRODUCTIVE CAPACITY.
Property, requiring income to be always proportional to capital without
regard to labor, does not recognize this relation of equality between
effect and cause.

4 and 5. Like the insect which spins its silk, the laborer never produces
for himself alone. Property, demanding a double product and unable to
obtain it, robs the laborer, and kills him.

6. Nature has given to every man but one mind, one heart, one will.
Property, granting to one individual a plurality of votes, supposes him to
have a plurality of minds.

7. All consumption which is not reproductive of utility is destruction.
Property, whether it consumes or hoards or capitalizes, is productive of
INUTILITY,—the cause of sterility and death.

8. The satisfaction of a natural right always gives rise to an equation;
in other words, the right to a thing is necessarily balanced by the
possession of the thing. Thus, between the right to liberty and the
condition of a free man there is a balance, an equation; between the right
to be a father and paternity, an equation; between the right to security
and the social guarantee, an equation. But between the right of increase
and the receipt of this increase there is never an equation; for every new
increase carries with it the right to another, the latter to a third, and
so on for ever. Property, never being able to accomplish its object, is a
right against Nature and against reason.

9. Finally, property is not self-existent. An extraneous cause—either
FORCE or FRAUD—is necessary to its life and action. In other words,
property is not equal to property: it is a negation—a delusion—NOTHING.

CHAPTER V. PSYCHOLOGICAL EXPOSITION OF THE IDEA OF JUSTICE

Property is impossible; equality does not exist. We hate the former, and
yet wish to possess it; the latter rules all our thoughts, yet we know not
how to reach it. Who will explain this profound antagonism between our
conscience and our will? Who will point out the causes of this pernicious
error, which has become the most sacred principle of justice and society?

I am bold enough to undertake the task, and I hope to succeed.

But before explaining why man has violated justice, it is necessary to
determine what justice is.

PART FIRST.

% 1.—Of the Moral Sense in Man and the Animals.

The philosophers have endeavored often to locate the line which separates
man’s intelligence from that of the brutes; and, according to their
general custom, they gave utterance to much foolishness before resolving
upon the only course possible for them to take,—observation. It was
reserved for an unpretending savant—who perhaps did not pride
himself on his philosophy—to put an end to the interminable
controversy by a simple distinction; but one of those luminous
distinctions which are worth more than systems. Frederic Cuvier separated
INSTINCT from INTELLIGENCE.

But, as yet, no one has proposed this question:—

IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MAN’S MORAL SENSE AND THAT OF THE BRUTE A
DIFFERENCE IN KIND OR ONLY IN DEGREE?

If, hitherto, any one had dared to maintain the latter alternative, his
arguments would have seemed scandalous, blasphemous, and offensive to
morality and religion. The ecclesiastical and secular tribunals would have
condemned him with one voice. And, mark the style in which they would have
branded the immoral paradox! “Conscience,”—they would have cried,—”conscience,
man’s chief glory, was given to him exclusively; the notion of justice and
injustice, of merit and demerit, is his noble privilege; to man, alone,—the
lord of creation,—belongs the sublime power to resist his worldly
propensities, to choose between good and evil, and to bring himself more
and more into the resemblance of God through liberty and justice…. No;
the holy image of virtue was never graven save on the heart of man.” Words
full of feeling, but void of sense.

Man is a rational and social animal—{GREEK ‘ c g}—said
Aristotle. This definition is worth more than all which have been given
since. I do not except even M. de Bonald’s celebrated definition,—MAN
IS AN INTELLECT SERVED BY ORGANS—a definition which has the double
fault of explaining the known by the unknown; that is, the living being by
the intellect; and of neglecting man’s essential quality,—animality.

Man, then, is an animal living in society. Society means the sum total of
relationships; in short, system. Now, all systems exist only on certain
conditions. What, then, are the conditions, the LAWS, of human society?

What are the RIGHTS of men with respect to each other; what is JUSTICE?

It amounts to nothing to say,—with the philosophers of various
schools,—”It is a divine instinct, an immortal and heavenly voice, a
guide given us by Nature, a light revealed unto every man on coming into
the world, a law engraved upon our hearts; it is the voice of conscience,
the dictum of reason, the inspiration of sentiment, the penchant of
feeling; it is the love of self in others; it is enlightened
self-interest; or else it is an innate idea, the imperative command of
applied reason, which has its source in the concepts of pure reason; it is
a passional attraction,” &c., &c. This may be as true as it seems
beautiful; but it is utterly meaningless. Though we should prolong this
litany through ten pages (it has been filtered through a thousand
volumes), we should be no nearer to the solution of the question.

“Justice is public utility,” says Aristotle. That is true, but it is a
tautology. “The principle that the public welfare ought to be the object
of the legislator”—says M. Ch. Comte in his “Treatise on
Legislation”—”cannot be overthrown. But legislation is advanced no
farther by its announcement and demonstration, than is medicine when it is
said that it is the business of physicians to cure the sick.”

Let us take another course. RUGHT is the sum total of the principles which
govern society. Justice, in man, is the respect and observation of those
principles. To practise justice is to obey the social instinct; to do an
act of justice is to do a social act. If, then, we watch the conduct of
men towards each other under different circumstances, it will be easy for
us to distinguish between the presence and absence of society; from the
result we may inductively infer the law.

Let us commence with the simplest and least doubtful cases.

The mother, who protects her son at the peril of her life, and sacrifices
every thing to his support, is in society with him—she is a good
mother. She, on the contrary, who abandons her child, is unfaithful to the
social instinct,—maternal love being one of its many features; she
is an unnatural mother.

If I plunge into the water to rescue a drowning man, I am his brother, his
associate; if, instead of aiding him, I sink him, I am his enemy, his
murderer.

Whoever bestows alms treats the poor man as his associate; not thoroughly,
it is true, but only in respect to the amount which he shares with him.
Whoever takes by force or stratagem that which is not the product of his
labor, destroys his social character—he is a brigand.

The Samaritan who relieves the traveller lying by the wayside, dresses his
wounds, comforts him, and supplies him with money, thereby declares
himself his associate—his neighbor; the priest, who passes by on the
other side, remains unassociated, and is his enemy.

In all these cases, man is moved by an internal attraction towards his
fellow, by a secret sympathy which causes him to love, congratulate, and
condole; so that, to resist this attraction, his will must struggle
against his nature.

But in these respects there is no decided difference between man and the
animals. With them, as long as the weakness of their young endears them to
their mothers,—in a word, associates them with their mothers,—the
latter protect the former, at the peril of their lives, with a courage
which reminds us of our heroes dying for their country. Certain species
unite for hunting purposes, seek each other, call each other (a poet would
say invite each other), to share their prey; in danger they aid, protect,
and warn each other. The elephant knows how to help his companion out of
the ditch into which the latter has fallen. Cows form a circle, with their
horns outward and their calves in the centre, in order to repel the
attacks of wolves. Horses and pigs, on hearing a cry of distress from one
of their number, rush to the spot whence it comes. What descriptions I
might give of their marriages, the tenderness of the males towards the
females, and the fidelity of their loves! Let us add, however,—to be
entirely just—that these touching demonstrations of society,
fraternity, and love of neighbor, do not prevent the animals from
quarrelling, fighting, and outrageously abusing one another while gaining
their livelihood and showing their gallantry; the resemblance between them
and ourselves is perfect.

The social instinct, in man and beast, exists to a greater or less degree—its
nature is the same. Man has the greater need of association, and employs
it more; the animal seems better able to endure isolation. In man, social
needs are more imperative and complex; in the beast, they seem less
intense, less diversified, less regretted. Society, in a word, aims, in
the case of man, at the preservation of the race and the individual; with
the animals, its object is more exclusively the preservation of the race.

As yet, we have met with no claim which man can make for himself alone.
The social instinct and the moral sense he shares with the brutes; and
when he thinks to become god-like by a few acts of charity, justice, and
devotion, he does not perceive that in so acting he simply obeys an
instinct wholly animal in its nature. As we are good, loving, tender,
just, so we are passionate, greedy, lewd, and vindictive; that is, we are
like the beasts. Our highest virtues appear, in the last analysis, as
blind, impulsive instincts. What subjects for canonization and apotheosis!

There is, however, a difference between us two-handed bipeds and other
living creatures—what is it?

A student of philosophy would hasten to reply: “This difference lies in
the fact that we are conscious of our social faculty, while the animals
are unconscious of theirs—in the fact that while we reflect and
reason upon the operation of our social instinct, the animals do nothing
of the kind.”

I will go farther. It is by our reflective and reasoning powers, with
which we seem to be exclusively endowed, that we know that it is
injurious, first to others and then to ourselves, to resist the social
instinct which governs us, and which we call JUSTICE. It is our reason
which teaches us that the selfish man, the robber, the murderer—in a
word, the traitor to society—sins against Nature, and is guilty with
respect to others and himself, when he does wrong wilfully. Finally, it is
our social sentiment on the one hand, and our reason on the other, which
cause us to think that beings such as we should take the responsibility of
their acts. Such is the principle of remorse, revenge, and penal justice.

But this proves only an intellectual diversity between the animals and
man, not at all an affectional one; for, although we reason upon our
relations with our fellows, we likewise reason upon our most trivial
actions,—such as drinking, eating, choosing a wife, or selecting a
dwelling-place. We reason upon things earthly and things heavenly; there
is nothing to which our reasoning powers are not applicable. Now, just as
the knowledge of external phenomena, which we acquire, has no influence
upon their causes and laws, so reflection, by illuminating our instinct,
enlightens us as to our sentient nature, but does not alter its character;
it tells us what our morality is, but neither changes nor modifies it. Our
dissatisfaction with ourselves after doing wrong, the indignation which we
feel at the sight of injustice, the idea of deserved punishment and due
remuneration, are effects of reflection, and not immediate effects of
instinct and emotion. Our appreciation (I do not say exclusive
appreciation, for the animals also realize that they have done wrong, and
are indignant when one of their number is attacked, but), our infinitely
superior appreciation of our social duties, our knowledge of good and
evil, does not establish, as regards morality, any vital difference
between man and the beasts.

% 2.—Of the first and second degrees of Sociability.

I insist upon the fact, which I have just pointed out, as one of the most
important facts of anthropology.

The sympathetic attraction, which causes us to associate, is, by reason of
its blind, unruly nature, always governed by temporary impulse, without
regard to higher rights, and without distinction of merit or priority. The
bastard dog follows indifferently all who call it; the suckling child
regards every man as its father and every woman as its nurse; every living
creature, when deprived of the society of animals of its species, seeks
companionship in its solitude. This fundamental characteristic of the
social instinct renders intolerable and even hateful the friendship of
frivolous persons, liable to be infatuated with every new face,
accommodating to all whether good or bad, and ready to sacrifice, for a
passing liaison, the oldest and most honorable affections. The fault of
such beings is not in the heart—it is in the judgment. Sociability,
in this degree, is a sort of magnetism awakened in us by the contemplation
of a being similar to ourselves, but which never goes beyond the person
who feels it; it may be reciprocated, but not communicated. Love,
benevolence, pity, sympathy, call it what you will, there is nothing in it
which deserves esteem,—nothing which lifts man above the beast.

The second degree of sociability is justice, which may be defined as the
RECOGNITION OF THE EQUALITY BETWEEN ANOTHER’S PERSONALITY AND OUR OWN. The
sentiment of justice we share with the animals; we alone can form an exact
idea of it; but our idea, as has been said already, does not change its
nature. We shall soon see how man rises to a third degree of sociability
which the animals are incapable of reaching. But I must first prove by
metaphysics that SOCIETY, JUSTICE, and EQUALITY, are three equivalent
terms,—three expressions meaning the same thing,—whose mutual
conversion is always allowable.

If, amid the confusion of a shipwreck, having escaped in a boat with some
provisions, I see a man struggling with the waves, am I bound to go to his
assistance? Yes, I am bound under penalty of being adjudged guilty of
murder and treason against society.

But am I also bound to share with him my provisions?

To settle this question, we must change the phraseology. If society is
binding on the boat, is it also binding on the provisions? Undoubtedly.
The duty of an associate is absolute. Man’s occupancy succeeds his social
nature, and is subordinate to it; possession can become exclusive only
when permission to occupy is granted to all alike. That which in this
instance obscures our duty is our power of foresight, which, causing us to
fear an eventual danger, impels us to usurpation, and makes us robbers and
murderers. Animals do not calculate the duty of instinct any more than the
disadvantages resulting to those who exercise it; it would be strange if
the intellect of man—the most sociable of animals—should lead
him to disobey the law.

He betrays society who attempts to use it only for his own advantage;
better that God should deprive us of prudence, if it is to serve as the
tool of our selfishness.

“What!” you will say, “must I share my bread, the bread which I have
earned and which belongs to me, with the stranger whom I do not know; whom
I may never see again, and who, perhaps, will reward me with ingratitude?
If we had earned this bread together, if this man had done something to
obtain it, he might demand his share, since his co-operation would entitle
him to it; but as it is, what claim has he on me? We have not produced
together—we shall not eat together.”

The fallacy in this argument lies in the false supposition, that each
producer is not necessarily associated with every other producer.

When two or more individuals have regularly organized a society,—when
the contracts have been agreed upon, drafted, and signed,—there is
no difficulty about the future. Everybody knows that when two men
associate—for instance—in order to fish, if one of them
catches no fish, he is none the less entitled to those caught by his
associate. If two merchants form a partnership, while the partnership
lasts, the profits and losses are divided between them; since each
produces, not for himself, but for the society: when the time of
distribution arrives, it is not the producer who is considered, but the
associate. That is why the slave, to whom the planter gives straw and
rice; and the civilized laborer, to whom the capitalist pays a salary
which is always too small,—not being associated with their
employers, although producing with them,—are disregarded when the
product is divided. Thus, the horse who draws our coaches, and the ox who
draws our carts produce with us, but are not associated with us; we take
their product, but do not share it with them. The animals and laborers
whom we employ hold the same relation to us. Whatever we do for them, we
do, not from a sense of justice, but out of pure benevolence. 22

But is it possible that we are not all associated? Let us call to mind
what was said in the last two chapters, That even though we do not want to
be associated, the force of things, the necessity of consumption, the laws
of production, and the mathematical principle of exchange combine to
associate us. There is but a single exception to this rule,—that of
the proprietor, who, producing by his right of increase, is not associated
with any one, and consequently is not obliged to share his product with
any one; just as no one else is bound to share with him. With the
exception of the proprietor, we labor for each other; we can do nothing by
ourselves unaided by others, and we continually exchange products and
services with each other. If these are not social acts, what are they?

Now, neither a commercial, nor an industrial, nor an agricultural
association can be conceived of in the absence of equality; equality is
its sine qua non. So that, in all matters which concern this association,
to violate society is to violate justice and equality. Apply this
principle to humanity at large.

After what has been said, I assume that the reader has sufficient insight
to enable him to dispense with any aid of mine.

By this principle, the man who takes possession of a field, and says,
“This field is mine,” will not be unjust so long as every one else has an
equal right of possession; nor will he be unjust, if, wishing to change
his location, he exchanges this field for an equivalent. But if, putting
another in his place, he says to him, “Work for me while I rest,” he then
becomes unjust, unassociated, UNEQUAL. He is a proprietor.

Reciprocally, the sluggard, or the rake, who, without performing any
social task, enjoys like others—and often more than others—the
products of society, should be proceeded against as a thief and a
parasite. We owe it to ourselves to give him nothing; but, since he must
live, to put him under supervision, and compel him to labor.

Sociability is the attraction felt by sentient beings for each other.
Justice is this same attraction, accompanied by thought and knowledge. But
under what general concept, in what category of the understanding, is
justice placed? In the category of equal quantities. Hence, the ancient
definition of justice—Justum aequale est, injustum inaequale.
What is it, then, to practise justice? It is to give equal wealth to each,
on condition of equal labor. It is to act socially. Our selfishness may
complain; there is no escape from evidence and necessity.

What is the right of occupancy? It is a natural method of dividing the
earth, by reducing each laborer’s share as fast as new laborers present
themselves. This right disappears if the public interest requires it;
which, being the social interest, is also that of the occupant.

What is the right of labor? It is the right to obtain one’s share of
wealth by fulfilling the required conditions. It is the right of society,
the right of equality.

Justice, which is the product of the combination of an idea and an
instinct, manifests itself in man as soon as he is capable of feeling, and
of forming ideas. Consequently, it has been regarded as an innate and
original sentiment; but this opinion is logically and chronologically
false. But justice, by its composition hybrid—if I may use the term,—justice,
born of emotion and intellect combined, seems to me one of the strongest
proofs of the unity and simplicity of the ego; the organism being no more
capable of producing such a mixture by itself, than are the combined
senses of hearing and sight of forming a binary sense, half auditory and
half visual.

This double nature of justice gives us the definitive basis of all the
demonstrations in Chapters II., III., and IV. On the one hand, the idea of
JUSTICE being identical with that of society, and society necessarily
implying equality, equality must underlie all the sophisms invented in
defence of property; for, since property can be defended only as a just
and social institution, and property being inequality, in order to prove
that property is in harmony with society, it must be shown that injustice
is justice, and that inequality is equality,—a contradiction in
terms. On the other hand, since the idea of equality—the second
element of justice—has its source in the mathematical proportions of
things; and since property, or the unequal distribution of wealth among
laborers, destroys the necessary balance between labor, production, and
consumption,—property must be impossible.

All men, then, are associated; all are entitled to the same justice; all
are equal. Does it follow that the preferences of love and friendship are
unjust?

This requires explanation. I have already supposed the case of a man in
peril, I being in a position to help him. Now, I suppose myself appealed
to at the same time by two men exposed to danger.

Am I not allowed—am I not commanded even—to rush first to the
aid of him who is endeared to me by ties of blood, friendship,
acquaintance, or esteem, at the risk of leaving the other to perish? Yes.
And why? Because within universal society there exist for each of us as
many special societies as there are individuals; and we are bound, by the
principle of sociability itself, to fulfil the obligations which these
impose upon us, according to the intimacy of our relations with them.
Therefore we must give our father, mother, children, friends, relatives,
&c., the preference over all others. But in what consists this
preference?

A judge has a case to decide, in which one of the parties is his friend,
and the other his enemy. Should he, in this instance, prefer his INTIMATE
ASSOCIATE to his DISTANT ASSOCIATE; and decide the case in favor of his
friend, in spite of evidence to the contrary? No: for, if he should favor
his friend’s injustice, he would become his accomplice in his violation of
the social compact; he would form with him a sort of conspiracy against
the social body. Preference should be shown only in personal matters, such
as love, esteem, confidence, or intimacy, when all cannot be considered at
once. Thus, in case of fire, a father would save his own child before
thinking of his neighbor’s; but the recognition of a right not being an
optional matter with a judge, he is not at liberty to favor one person to
the detriment of another.

The theory of these special societies—which are formed
concentrically, so to speak, by each of us inside of the main body—gives
the key to all the problems which arise from the opposition and conflict
of the different varieties of social duty,—problems upon which the
ancient tragedies are based.

The justice practised among animals is, in a certain degree, negative.
With the exception of protecting their young, hunting and plundering in
troops, uniting for common defence and sometimes for individual
assistance, it consists more in prevention than in action. A sick animal
who cannot arise from the ground, or an imprudent one who has fallen over
a precipice, receives neither medicine nor nourishment. If he cannot cure
himself, nor relieve himself of his trouble, his life is in danger: he
will neither be cared for in bed, nor fed in a prison.

Their neglect of their fellows arises as much from the weakness of their
intellect as from their lack of resources. Still, the degrees of intimacy
common among men are not unknown to the animals. They have friendships of
habit and of choice; friendships neighborly, and friendships parental. In
comparison with us, they have feeble memories, sluggish feelings, and are
almost destitute of intelligence; but the identity of these faculties is
preserved to some extent, and our superiority in this respect arises
entirely from our understanding.

It is our strength of memory and penetration of judgment which enable us
to multiply and combine the acts which our social instinct impels us to
perform, and which teaches us how to render them more effective, and how
to distribute them justly. The beasts who live in society practise
justice, but are ignorant of its nature, and do not reason upon it; they
obey their instinct without thought or philosophy. They know not how to
unite the social sentiment with the idea of equality, which they do not
possess; this idea being an abstract one. We, on the contrary, starting
with the principle that society implies equality, can, by our reasoning
faculty, understand and agree with each other in settling our rights; we
have even used our judgment to a great extent. But in all this our
conscience plays a small part, as is proved by the fact that the idea of
RIGHT—of which we catch a glimpse in certain animals who approach
nearer than any others to our standard of intelligence—seems to
grow, from the low level at which it stands in savages, to the lofty
height which it reaches in a Plato or a Franklin. If we trace the
development of the moral sense in individuals, and the progress of laws in
nations, we shall be convinced that the ideas of justice and legislative
perfection are always proportional to intelligence. The notion of justice—which
has been regarded by some philosophers as simple—is then, in
reality, complex. It springs from the social instinct on the one hand, and
the idea of equality on the other; just as the notion of guilt arises from
the feeling that justice has been violated, and from the idea of
free-will.

In conclusion, instinct is not modified by acquaintance with its nature;
and the facts of society, which we have thus far observed, occur among
beasts as well as men. We know the meaning of justice; in other words, of
sociability viewed from the standpoint of equality. We have met with
nothing which separates us from the animals.

% 3.—Of the third degree of Sociability.

The reader, perhaps, has not forgotten what was said in the third chapter
concerning the division of labor and the speciality of talents. The sum
total of the talents and capacities of the race is always the same, and
their nature is always similar. We are all born poets, mathematicians,
philosophers, artists, artisans, or farmers, but we are not born equally
endowed; and between one man and another in society, or between one
faculty and another in the same individual, there is an infinite
difference. This difference of degree in the same faculties, this
predominance of talent in certain directions, is, we have said, the very
foundation of our society. Intelligence and natural genius have been
distributed by Nature so economically, and yet so liberally, that in
society there is no danger of either a surplus or a scarcity of special
talents; and that each laborer, by devoting himself to his function, may
always attain to the degree of proficiency necessary to enable him to
benefit by the labors and discoveries of his fellows. Owing to this simple
and wise precaution of Nature, the laborer is not isolated by his task. He
communicates with his fellows through the mind, before he is united with
them in heart; so that with him love is born of intelligence.

It is not so with societies of animals. In every species, the aptitudes of
all the individuals—though very limited—are equal in number
and (when they are not the result of instinct) in intensity. Each one does
as well as all the others what all the others do; provides his food,
avoids the enemy, burrows in the earth, builds a nest, &c. No animal,
when free and healthy, expects or requires the aid of his neighbor; who,
in his turn, is equally independent.

Associated animals live side by side without any intellectual intercourse
or intimate communication,—all doing the same things, having nothing
to learn or to remember; they see, feel, and come in contact with each
other, but never penetrate each other. Man continually exchanges with man
ideas and feelings, products and services. Every discovery and act in
society is necessary to him. But of this immense quantity of products and
ideas, that which each one has to produce and acquire for himself is but
an atom in the sun. Man would not be man were it not for society, and
society is supported by the balance and harmony of the powers which
compose it.

Society, among the animals, is SIMPLE; with man it is COMPLEX. Man is
associated with man by the same instinct which associates animal with
animal; but man is associated differently from the animal, and it is this
difference in association which constitutes the difference in morality.

I have proved,—at too great length, perhaps,—both by the
spirit of the laws which regard property as the basis of society, and by
political economy, that inequality of conditions is justified neither by
priority of occupation nor superiority of talent, service, industry, and
capacity. But, although equality of conditions is a necessary consequence
of natural right, of liberty, of the laws of production, of the capacity
of physical nature, and of the principle of society itself,—it does
not prevent the social sentiment from stepping over the boundaries of DEBT
and CREDIT. The fields of benevolence and love extend far beyond; and when
economy has adjusted its balance, the mind begins to benefit by its own
justice, and the heart expands in the boundlessness of its affection.

The social sentiment then takes on a new character, which varies with
different persons. In the strong, it becomes the pleasure of generosity;
among equals, frank and cordial friendship; in the weak, the pleasure of
admiration and gratitude.

The man who is superior in strength, skill, or courage, knows that he owes
all that he is to society, without which he could not exist. He knows
that, in treating him precisely as it does the lowest of its members,
society discharges its whole duty towards him. But he does not underrate
his faculties; he is no less conscious of his power and greatness; and it
is this voluntary reverence which he pays to humanity, this avowal that he
is but an instrument of Nature,—who is alone worthy of glory and
worship,—it is, I say, this simultaneous confession of the heart and
the mind, this genuine adoration of the Great Being, that distinguishes
and elevates man, and lifts him to a degree of social morality to which
the beast is powerless to attain. Hercules destroying the monsters and
punishing brigands for the safety of Greece, Orpheus teaching the rough
and wild Pelasgians,—neither of them putting a price upon their
services,—there we see the noblest creations of poetry, the loftiest
expression of justice and virtue.

The joys of self-sacrifice are ineffable.

If I were to compare human society to the old Greek tragedies, I should
say that the phalanx of noble minds and lofty souls dances the strophe,
and the humble multitude the antistrophe. Burdened with painful and
disagreeable tasks, but rendered omnipotent by their number and the
harmonic arrangement of their functions, the latter execute what the
others plan. Guided by them, they owe them nothing; they honor them,
however, and lavish upon them praise and approbation.

Gratitude fills people with adoration and enthusiasm.

But equality delights my heart. Benevolence degenerates into tyranny, and
admiration into servility. Friendship is the daughter of equality. O my
friends! may I live in your midst without emulation, and without glory;
let equality bring us together, and fate assign us our places. May I die
without knowing to whom among you I owe the most esteem!

Friendship is precious to the hearts of the children of men.

Generosity, gratitude (I mean here only that gratitude which is born of
admiration of a superior power), and friendship are three distinct shades
of a single sentiment which I will call equite, or SOCIAL PROPORTIONALITY.
23
Equite does not change justice: but, always taking equite for the base, it
superadds esteem, and thereby forms in man a third degree of sociability.
Equite makes it at once our duty and our pleasure to aid the weak who have
need of us, and to make them our equals; to pay to the strong a just
tribute of gratitude and honor, without enslaving ourselves to them; to
cherish our neighbors, friends, and equals, for that which we receive from
them, even by right of exchange. Equite is sociability raised to its ideal
by reason and justice; its commonest manifestation is URBANITY or
POLITENESS, which, among certain nations, sums up in a single word nearly
all the social duties.

It is the just distribution of social sympathy and universal love.

Now, this feeling is unknown among the beasts, who love and cling to each
other, and show their preferences, but who cannot conceive of esteem, and
who are incapable of generosity, admiration, or politeness.

This feeling does not spring from intelligence, which calculates,
computes, and balances, but does not love; which sees, but does not feel.
As justice is the product of social instinct and reflection combined, so
equite is a product of justice and taste combined—that is, of our
powers of judging and of idealizing.

This product—the third and last degree of human sociability—is
determined by our complex mode of association; in which inequality, or
rather the divergence of faculties, and the speciality of functions—tending
of themselves to isolate laborers—demand a more active sociability.

That is why the force which oppresses while protecting is execrable; why
the silly ignorance which views with the same eye the marvels of art, and
the products of the rudest industry, excites unutterable contempt; why
proud mediocrity, which glories in saying, “I have paid you—I owe
you nothing,” is especially odious.

SOCIABILITY, JUSTICE, EQUITE—such, in its triplicity, is the exact
definition of the instinctive faculty which leads us into communication
with our fellows, and whose physical manifestation is expressed by the
formula: EQUALITY IN NATURAL WEALTH, AND THE PRODUCTS OF LABOR.

These three degrees of sociability support and imply each other.

Equite cannot exist without justice; society without justice is a
solecism. If, in order to reward talent, I take from one to give to
another, in unjustly stripping the first, I do not esteem his talent as I
ought; if, in society, I award more to myself than to my associate, we are
not really associated. Justice is sociability as manifested in the
division of material things, susceptible of weight and measure; equite is
justice accompanied by admiration and esteem,—things which cannot be
measured.

From this several inferences may be drawn.

1. Though we are free to grant our esteem to one more than to another, and
in all possible degrees, yet we should give no one more than his
proportion of the common wealth; because the duty of justice, being
imposed upon us before that of equite, must always take precedence of it.
The woman honored by the ancients, who, when forced by a tyrant to choose
between the death of her brother and that of her husband, sacrificed the
latter on the ground that she could find another husband but not another
brother,—that woman, I say, in obeying her sense of equite, failed
in point of justice, and did a bad deed, because conjugal association is a
closer relation than fraternal association, and because the life of our
neighbor is not our property.

By the same principle, inequality of wages cannot be admitted by law on
the ground of inequality of talents; because the just distribution of
wealth is the function of economy,—not of enthusiasm.

Finally, as regards donations, wills, and inheritance, society, careful
both of the personal affections and its own rights, must never permit love
and partiality to destroy justice. And, though it is pleasant to think
that the son, who has been long associated with his father in business, is
more capable than any one else of carrying it on; and that the citizen,
who is surprised in the midst of his task by death, is best fitted, in
consequence of his natural taste for his occupation, to designate his
successor; and though the heir should be allowed the right of choice in
case of more than one inheritance,—nevertheless, society can
tolerate no concentration of capital and industry for the benefit of a
single man, no monopoly of labor, no encroachment. 24

“Suppose that some spoils, taken from the enemy, and equal to twelve, are
to be divided between Achilles and Ajax. If the two persons were equal,
their respective shares would be arithmetically equal: Achilles would have
six, Ajax six. And if we should carry out this arithmetical equality,
Thersites would be entitled to as much as Achilles, which would be unjust
in the extreme. To avoid this injustice, the worth of the persons should
be estimated, and the spoils divided accordingly. Suppose that the worth
of Achilles is double that of Ajax: the former’s share is eight, the
latter four. There is no arithmetical equality, but a proportional
equality. It is this comparison of merits, rationum, that Aristotle calls
distributive justice. It is a geometrical proportion.”—Toullier:
French Law according to the Code.

Are Achilles and Ajax associated, or are they not? Settle that, and you
settle the whole question. If Achilles and Ajax, instead of being
associated, are themselves in the service of Agamemnon who pays them,
there is no objection to Aristotle’s method. The slave-owner, who controls
his slaves, may give a double allowance of brandy to him who does double
work. That is the law of despotism; the right of slavery.

But if Achilles and Ajax are associated, they are equals. What matters it
that Achilles has a strength of four, while that of Ajax is only two? The
latter may always answer that he is free; that if Achilles has a strength
of four, five could kill him; finally, that in doing personal service he
incurs as great a risk as Achilles. The same argument applies to
Thersites. If he is unable to fight, let him be cook, purveyor, or butler.
If he is good for nothing, put him in the hospital. In no case wrong him,
or impose upon him laws.

Man must live in one of two states: either in society, or out of it. In
society, conditions are necessarily equal, except in the degree of esteem
and consideration which each one may receive. Out of society, man is so
much raw material, a capitalized tool, and often an incommodious and
useless piece of furniture.

2. Equite, justice, and society, can exist only between individuals of the
same species. They form no part of the relations of different races to
each other,—for instance, of the wolf to the goat, of the goat to
man, of man to God, much less of God to man. The attribution of justice,
equity, and love to the Supreme Being is pure anthropomorphism; and the
adjectives just, merciful, pitiful, and the like, should be stricken from
our litanies. God can be regarded as just, equitable, and good, only to
another God. Now, God has no associate; consequently, he cannot experience
social affections,—such as goodness, equite, and justice. Is the
shepherd said to be just to his sheep and his dogs? No: and if he saw fit
to shear as much wool from a lamb six months old, as from a ram of two
years; or, if he required as much work from a young dog as from an old
one,—they would say, not that he was unjust, but that he was
foolish. Between man and beast there is no society, though there may be
affection. Man loves the animals as THINGS,—as SENTIENT THINGS, if
you will,—but not as PERSONS. Philosophy, after having eliminated
from the idea of God the passions ascribed to him by superstition, will
then be obliged to eliminate also the virtues which our liberal piety
awards to him. 25

The rights of woman and her relations with man are yet to be determined
Matrimonial legislation, like civil legislation, is a matter for the
future to settle.

If God should come down to earth, and dwell among us, we could not love
him unless he became like us; nor give him any thing unless he produced
something; nor listen to him unless he proved us mistaken; nor worship him
unless he manifested his power. All the laws of our nature, affectional,
economical, and intellectual, would prevent us from treating him as we
treat our fellow-men,—that is, according to reason, justice, and
equite.

I infer from this that, if God should wish ever to put himself into
immediate communication with man, he would have to become a man.

Now, if kings are images of God, and executors of his will, they cannot
receive love, wealth, obedience, and glory from us, unless they consent to
labor and associate with us—produce as much as they consume, reason
with their subjects, and do wonderful things. Still more; if, as some
pretend, kings are public functionaries, the love which is due them is
measured by their personal amiability; our obligation to obey them, by the
wisdom of their commands; and their civil list, by the total social
production divided by the number of citizens.

Thus, jurisprudence, political economy, and psychology agree in admitting
the law of equality. Right and duty—the due reward of talent and
labor—the outbursts of love and enthusiasm,—all are regulated
in advance by an invariable standard; all depend upon number and balance.
Equality of conditions is the law of society, and universal solidarity is
the ratification of this law.

Equality of conditions has never been realized, thanks to our passions and
our ignorance; but our opposition to this law has made it all the more a
necessity. To that fact history bears perpetual testimony, and the course
of events reveals it to us. Society advances from equation to equation. To
the eyes of the economist, the revolutions of empires seem now like the
reduction of algebraical quantities, which are inter-deducible; now like
the discovery of unknown quantities, induced by the inevitable influence
of time. Figures are the providence of history. Undoubtedly there are
other elements in human progress; but in the multitude of hidden causes
which agitate nations, there is none more powerful or constant, none less
obscure, than the periodical explosions of the proletariat against
property. Property, acting by exclusion and encroachment, while population
was increasing, has been the life-principle and definitive cause of all
revolutions. Religious wars, and wars of conquest, when they have stopped
short of the extermination of races, have been only accidental
disturbances, soon repaired by the mathematical progression of the life of
nations. The downfall and death of societies are due to the power of
accumulation possessed by property.

In the middle ages, take Florence,—a republic of merchants and
brokers, always rent by its well-known factions, the Guelphs and
Ghibellines, who were, after all, only the people and the proprietors
fighting against each other,—Florence, ruled by bankers, and borne
down at last by the weight of her debts; 26 in ancient
times, take Rome, preyed upon from its birth by usury, flourishing,
nevertheless, as long as the known world furnished its terrible
proletaires with LABOR stained with blood by civil war at every interval
of rest, and dying of exhaustion when the people lost, together with their
former energy, their last spark of moral sense; Carthage, a commercial and
financial city, continually divided by internal competition; Tyre, Sidon,
Jerusalem, Nineveh, Babylon, ruined, in turn, by commercial rivalry and,
as we now express it, by panics in the market,—do not these famous
examples show clearly enough the fate which awaits modern nations, unless
the people, unless France, with a sudden burst of her powerful voice,
proclaims in thunder-tones the abolition of the regime of property?

Here my task should end. I have proved the right of the poor; I have shown
the usurpation of the rich. I demand justice; it is not my business to
execute the sentence. If it should be argued—in order to prolong for
a few years an illegitimate privilege—that it is not enough to
demonstrate equality, that it is necessary also to organize it, and above
all to establish it peacefully, I might reply: The welfare of the
oppressed is of more importance than official composure. Equality of
conditions is a natural law upon which public economy and jurisprudence
are based. The right to labor, and the principle of equal distribution of
wealth, cannot give way to the anxieties of power. It is not for the
proletaire to reconcile the contradictions of the codes, still less to
suffer for the errors of the government. On the contrary, it is the duty
of the civil and administrative power to reconstruct itself on the basis
of political equality. An evil, when known, should be condemned and
destroyed. The legislator cannot plead ignorance as an excuse for
upholding a glaring iniquity. Restitution should not be delayed. Justice,
justice! recognition of right! reinstatement of the proletaire!—when
these results are accomplished, then, judges and consuls, you may attend
to your police, and provide a government for the Republic!

For the rest, I do not think that a single one of my readers accuses me of
knowing how to destroy, but of not knowing how to construct. In
demonstrating the principle of equality, I have laid the foundation of the
social structure I have done more. I have given an example of the true
method of solving political and legislative problems. Of the science
itself, I confess that I know nothing more than its principle; and I know
of no one at present who can boast of having penetrated deeper. Many
people cry, “Come to me, and I will teach you the truth!” These people
mistake for the truth their cherished opinion and ardent conviction, which
is usually any thing but the truth. The science of society—like all
human sciences—will be for ever incomplete. The depth and variety of
the questions which it embraces are infinite. We hardly know the A B C of
this science, as is proved by the fact that we have not yet emerged from
the period of systems, and have not ceased to put the authority of the
majority in the place of facts. A certain philological society decided
linguistic questions by a plurality of votes. Our parliamentary debates—were
their results less pernicious—would be even more ridiculous. The
task of the true publicist, in the age in which we live, is to close the
mouths of quacks and charlatans, and to teach the public to demand
demonstrations, instead of being contented with symbols and programmes.
Before talking of the science itself, it is necessary to ascertain its
object, and discover its method and principle. The ground must be cleared
of the prejudices which encumber it. Such is the mission of the nineteenth
century.

For my part, I have sworn fidelity to my work of demolition, and I will
not cease to pursue the truth through the ruins and rubbish. I hate to see
a thing half done; and it will be believed without any assurance of mine,
that, having dared to raise my hand against the Holy Ark, I shall not rest
contented with the removal of the cover. The mysteries of the sanctuary of
iniquity must be unveiled, the tables of the old alliance broken, and all
the objects of the ancient faith thrown in a heap to the swine. A charter
has been given to us,—a resume of political science, the monument of
twenty legislatures. A code has been written,—the pride of a
conqueror, and the summary of ancient wisdom. Well! of this charter and
this code not one article shall be left standing upon another! The time
has come for the wise to choose their course, and prepare for
reconstruction.

But, since a destroyed error necessarily implies a counter-truth, I will
not finish this treatise without solving the first problem of political
science,—that which receives the attention of all minds.

WHEN PROPERTY IS ABOLISHED, WHAT WILL BE THE FORM OF SOCIETY! WILL IT BE
COMMUNISM?

PART SECOND.

% 1.—Of the Causes of our Mistakes. The Origin of Property.

The true form of human society cannot be determined until the following
question has been solved:—

Property not being our natural condition, how did it gain a foothold? Why
has the social instinct, so trustworthy among the animals, erred in the
case of man? Why is man, who was born for society, not yet associated?

I have said that human society is COMPLEX in its nature. Though this
expression is inaccurate, the fact to which it refers is none the less
true; namely, the classification of talents and capacities. But who does
not see that these talents and capacities, owing to their infinite
variety, give rise to an infinite variety of wills, and that the
character, the inclinations, and—if I may venture to use the
expression—the form of the ego, are necessarily changed; so that in
the order of liberty, as in the order of intelligence, there are as many
types as individuals, as many characters as heads, whose tastes, fancies,
and propensities, being modified by dissimilar ideas, must necessarily
conflict? Man, by his nature and his instinct, is predestined to society;
but his personality, ever varying, is adverse to it.

In societies of animals, all the members do exactly the same things. The
same genius directs them; the same will animates them. A society of beasts
is a collection of atoms, round, hooked, cubical, or triangular, but
always perfectly identical. These personalities do not vary, and we might
say that a single ego governs them all. The labors which animals perform,
whether alone or in society, are exact reproductions of their character.
Just as the swarm of bees is composed of individual bees, alike in nature
and equal in value, so the honeycomb is formed of individual cells,
constantly and invariably repeated.

But man’s intelligence, fitted for his social destiny and his personal
needs, is of a very different composition, and therefore gives rise to a
wonderful variety of human wills. In the bee, the will is constant and
uniform, because the instinct which guides it is invariable, and
constitutes the animal’s whole life and nature. In man, talent varies, and
the mind wavers; consequently, his will is multiform and vague. He seeks
society, but dislikes constraint and monotony; he is an imitator, but fond
of his own ideas, and passionately in love with his works.

If, like the bees, every man were born possessed of talent, perfect
knowledge of certain kinds, and, in a word, an innate acquaintance with
the functions he has to perform, but destitute of reflective and reasoning
faculties, society would organize itself. We should see one man plowing a
field, another building houses; this one forging metals, that one cutting
clothes; and still others storing the products, and superintending their
distribution. Each one, without inquiring as to the object of his labor,
and without troubling himself about the extent of his task, would obey
orders, bring his product, receive his salary, and would then rest for a
time; keeping meanwhile no accounts, envious of nobody, and satisfied with
the distributor, who never would be unjust to any one. Kings would govern,
but would not reign; for to reign is to be a proprietor a l’engrais,
as Bonaparte said: and having no commands to give, since all would be at
their posts, they would serve rather as rallying centres than as
authorities or counsellors. It would be a state of ordered communism, but
not a society entered into deliberately and freely.

But man acquires skill only by observation and experiment. He reflects,
then, since to observe and experiment is to reflect; he reasons, since he
cannot help reasoning. In reflecting, he becomes deluded; in reasoning, he
makes mistakes, and, thinking himself right, persists in them. He is
wedded to his opinions; he esteems himself, and despises others.
Consequently, he isolates himself; for he could not submit to the majority
without renouncing his will and his reason,—that is, without
disowning himself, which is impossible. And this isolation, this
intellectual egotism, this individuality of opinion, lasts until the truth
is demonstrated to him by observation and experience. A final illustration
will make these facts still clearer.

If to the blind but convergent and harmonious instincts of a swarm of bees
should be suddenly added reflection and judgment, the little society could
not long exist. In the first place, the bees would not fail to try some
new industrial process; for instance, that of making their cells round or
square. All sorts of systems and inventions would be tried, until long
experience, aided by geometry, should show them that the hexagonal shape
is the best. Then insurrections would occur. The drones would be told to
provide for themselves, and the queens to labor; jealousy would spread
among the laborers; discords would burst forth; soon each one would want
to produce on his own account; and finally the hive would be abandoned,
and the bees would perish. Evil would be introduced into the
honey-producing republic by the power of reflection,—the very
faculty which ought to constitute its glory.

Thus, moral evil, or, in this case, disorder in society, is naturally
explained by our power of reflection. The mother of poverty, crime,
insurrection, and war was inequality of conditions; which was the daughter
of property, which was born of selfishness, which was engendered by
private opinion, which descended in a direct line from the autocracy of
reason. Man, in his infancy, is neither criminal nor barbarous, but
ignorant and inexperienced. Endowed with imperious instincts which are
under the control of his reasoning faculty, at first he reflects but
little, and reasons inaccurately; then, benefiting by his mistakes, he
rectifies his ideas, and perfects his reason. In the first place, it is
the savage sacrificing all his possessions for a trinket, and then
repenting and weeping; it is Esau selling his birthright for a mess of
pottage, and afterwards wishing to cancel the bargain; it is the civilized
workman laboring in insecurity, and continually demanding that his wages
be increased, neither he nor his employer understanding that, in the
absence of equality, any salary, however large, is always insufficient.
Then it is Naboth dying to defend his inheritance; Cato tearing out his
entrails that he might not be enslaved; Socrates drinking the fatal cup in
defence of liberty of thought; it is the third estate of ’89 reclaiming
its liberty: soon it will be the people demanding equality of wages and an
equal division of the means of production.

Man is born a social being,—that is, he seeks equality and justice
in all his relations, but he loves independence and praise. The difficulty
of satisfying these various desires at the same time is the primary cause
of the despotism of the will, and the appropriation which results from it.
On the other hand, man always needs a market for his products; unable to
compare values of different kinds, he is satisfied to judge approximately,
according to his passion and caprice; and he engages in dishonest
commerce, which always results in wealth and poverty. Thus, the greatest
evils which man suffers arise from the misuse of his social nature, of
this same justice of which he is so proud, and which he applies with such
deplorable ignorance.

The practice of justice is a science which, when once discovered and
diffused, will sooner or later put an end to social disorder, by teaching
us our rights and duties.

This progressive and painful education of our instinct, this slow and
imperceptible transformation of our spontaneous perceptions into
deliberate knowledge, does not take place among the animals, whose
instincts remain fixed, and never become enlightened.

“According to Frederic Cuvier, who has so clearly distinguished between
instinct and intelligence in animals, ‘instinct is a natural and inherent
faculty, like feeling, irritability, or intelligence. The wolf and the fox
who recognize the traps in which they have been caught, and who avoid
them; the dog and the horse, who understand the meaning of several of our
words, and who obey us,—thereby show intelligence. The dog
who hides the remains of his dinner, the bee who constructs his cell, the
bird who builds his nest, act only from instinct. Even man has
instincts: it is a special instinct which leads the new-born child to
suck. But, in man, almost every thing is accomplished by intelligence; and
intelligence supplements instinct. The opposite is true of animals: their
instinct is given them as a supplement to their intelligence.'”—Flourens:
Analytical Summary of the Observations of F. Cuvier.

“We can form a clear idea of instinct only by admitting that animals have
in their sensorium, images or innate and constant sensations, which
influence their actions in the same manner that ordinary and accidental
sensations commonly do. It is a sort of dream, or vision, which always
follows them and in all which relates to instinct they may be regarded as
somnambulists.”—F. Cuvier: Introduction to the Animal Kingdom.

Intelligence and instinct being common, then, though in different degrees,
to animals and man, what is the distinguishing characteristic of the
latter? According to F. Cuvier, it is REFLECTION OR THE POWER OF
INTELLECTUALLY CONSIDERING OUR OWN MODIFICATIONS BY A SURVEY OF OURSELVES.
This lacks clearness, and requires an explanation.

If we grant intelligence to animals, we must also grant them, in some
degree, reflection; for, the first cannot exist without the second, as F.
Cuvier himself has proved by numerous examples. But notice that the
learned observer defines the kind of reflection which distinguishes us
from the animals as the POWER OF CONSIDERING OUR OWN MODIFICATIONS. This I
shall endeavour to interpret, by developing to the best of my ability the
laconism of the philosophical naturalist.

The intelligence acquired by animals never modifies the operations which
they perform by instinct: it is given them only as a provision against
unexpected accidents which might disturb these operations. In man, on the
contrary, instinctive action is constantly changing into deliberate
action. Thus, man is social by instinct, and is every day becoming social
by reflection and choice. At first, he formed his words by instinct; [*]
he was a poet by inspiration: to-day, he makes grammar a science, and
poetry an art. His conception of God and a future life is spontaneous and
instinctive, and his expressions of this conception have been, by turns,
monstrous, eccentric, beautiful, comforting, and terrible. All these
different creeds, at which the frivolous irreligion of the eighteenth
century mocked, are modes of expression of the religious sentiment. Some
day, man will explain to himself the character of the God whom he believes
in, and the nature of that other world to which his soul aspires.

All that he does from instinct man despises; or, if he admires it, it is
as Nature’s work, not as his own. This explains the obscurity which
surrounds the names of early inventors; it explains also our indifference
to religious matters, and the ridicule heaped upon religious customs. Man
esteems only the products of reflection and of reason. The most wonderful
works of instinct are, in his eyes, only lucky GOD-SENDS; he reserves the
name DISCOVERY—I had almost said creation—for the works of
intelligence. Instinct is the source of passion and enthusiasm; it is
intelligence which causes crime and virtue.

In developing his intelligence, man makes use of not only his own
observations, but also those of others. He keeps an account of his
experience, and preserves the record; so that the race, as well as the
individual, becomes more and more intelligent. The animals do not transmit
their knowledge; that which each individual accumulates dies with him.

It is not enough, then, to say that we are distinguished from the animals
by reflection, unless we mean thereby the CONSTANT TENDENCY OF OUR
INSTINCT TO BECOME INTELLIGENCE. While man is governed by instinct, he is
unconscious of his acts. He never would deceive himself, and never would
be troubled by errors, evils, and disorder, if, like the animals, instinct
were his only guide. But the Creator has endowed us with reflection, to
the end that our instinct might become intelligence; and since this
reflection and resulting knowledge pass through various stages, it happens
that in the beginning our instinct is opposed, rather than guided, by
reflection; consequently, that our power of thought leads us to act in
opposition to our nature and our end; that, deceiving ourselves, we do and
suffer evil, until instinct which points us towards good, and reflection
which makes us stumble into evil, are replaced by the science of good and
evil, which invariably causes us to seek the one and avoid the other.

Thus, evil—or error and its consequences—is the firstborn son
of the union of two opposing faculties, instinct and reflection; good, or
truth, must inevitably be the second child. Or, to again employ the
figure, evil is the product of incest between adverse powers; good will
sooner or later be the legitimate child of their holy and mysterious
union.

Property, born of the reasoning faculty, intrenches itself behind
comparisons. But, just as reflection and reason are subsequent to
spontaneity, observation to sensation, and experience to instinct, so
property is subsequent to communism. Communism—or association in a
simple form—is the necessary object and original aspiration of the
social nature, the spontaneous movement by which it manifests and
establishes itself. It is the first phase of human civilization. In this
state of society,—which the jurists have called NEGATIVE COMMUNISM—man
draws near to man, and shares with him the fruits of the field and the
milk and flesh of animals. Little by little this communism—negative
as long as man does not produce—tends to become positive and organic
through the development of labor and industry. But it is then that the
sovereignty of thought, and the terrible faculty of reasoning logically or
illogically, teach man that, if equality is the sine qua non of society,
communism is the first species of slavery. To express this idea by an
Hegelian formula, I will say:

Communism—the first expression of the social nature—is the
first term of social development,—the THESIS; property, the reverse
of communism, is the second term,—the ANTITHESIS. When we have
discovered the third term, the SYNTHESIS, we shall have the required
solution. Now, this synthesis necessarily results from the correction of
the thesis by the antithesis. Therefore it is necessary, by a final
examination of their characteristics, to eliminate those features which
are hostile to sociability. The union of the two remainders will give us
the true form of human association.

% 2.—Characteristics of Communism and of Property.

I. I ought not to conceal the fact that property and communism have been
considered always the only possible forms of society. This deplorable
error has been the life of property. The disadvantages of communism are so
obvious that its critics never have needed to employ much eloquence to
thoroughly disgust men with it. The irreparability of the injustice which
it causes, the violence which it does to attractions and repulsions, the
yoke of iron which it fastens upon the will, the moral torture to which it
subjects the conscience, the debilitating effect which it has upon
society; and, to sum it all up, the pious and stupid uniformity which it
enforces upon the free, active, reasoning, unsubmissive personality of
man, have shocked common sense, and condemned communism by an irrevocable
decree.

The authorities and examples cited in its favor disprove it. The
communistic republic of Plato involved slavery; that of Lycurgus employed
Helots, whose duty it was to produce for their masters, thus enabling the
latter to devote themselves exclusively to athletic sports and to war.
Even J. J. Rousseau—confounding communism and equality—has
said somewhere that, without slavery, he did not think equality of
conditions possible. The communities of the early Church did not last the
first century out, and soon degenerated into monasteries. In those of the
Jesuits of Paraguay, the condition of the blacks is said by all travellers
to be as miserable as that of slaves; and it is a fact that the good
Fathers were obliged to surround themselves with ditches and walls to
prevent their new converts from escaping. The followers of Baboeuf—guided
by a lofty horror of property rather than by any definite belief—were
ruined by exaggeration of their principles; the St. Simonians, lumping
communism and inequality, passed away like a masquerade. The greatest
danger to which society is exposed to-day is that of another shipwreck on
this rock.

Singularly enough, systematic communism—the deliberate negation of
property—is conceived under the direct influence of the proprietary
prejudice; and property is the basis of all communistic theories.

The members of a community, it is true, have no private property; but the
community is proprietor, and proprietor not only of the goods, but of the
persons and wills. In consequence of this principle of absolute property,
labor, which should be only a condition imposed upon man by Nature,
becomes in all communities a human commandment, and therefore odious.
Passive obedience, irreconcilable with a reflecting will, is strictly
enforced. Fidelity to regulations, which are always defective, however
wise they may be thought, allows of no complaint. Life, talent, and all
the human faculties are the property of the State, which has the right to
use them as it pleases for the common good. Private associations are
sternly prohibited, in spite of the likes and dislikes of different
natures, because to tolerate them would be to introduce small communities
within the large one, and consequently private property; the strong work
for the weak, although this ought to be left to benevolence, and not
enforced, advised, or enjoined; the industrious work for the lazy,
although this is unjust; the clever work for the foolish, although this is
absurd; and, finally, man—casting aside his personality, his
spontaneity, his genius, and his affections—humbly annihilates
himself at the feet of the majestic and inflexible Commune!

Communism is inequality, but not as property is. Property is the
exploitation of the weak by the strong. Communism is the exploitation of
the strong by the weak. In property, inequality of conditions is the
result of force, under whatever name it be disguised: physical and mental
force; force of events, chance, FORTUNE; force of accumulated property,
&c. In communism, inequality springs from placing mediocrity on a
level with excellence. This damaging equation is repellent to the
conscience, and causes merit to complain; for, although it may be the duty
of the strong to aid the weak, they prefer to do it out of generosity,—they
never will endure a comparison. Give them equal opportunities of labor,
and equal wages, but never allow their jealousy to be awakened by mutual
suspicion of unfaithfulness in the performance of the common task.

Communism is oppression and slavery. Man is very willing to obey the law
of duty, serve his country, and oblige his friends; but he wishes to labor
when he pleases, where he pleases, and as much as he pleases. He wishes to
dispose of his own time, to be governed only by necessity, to choose his
friendships, his recreation, and his discipline; to act from judgment, not
by command; to sacrifice himself through selfishness, not through servile
obligation. Communism is essentially opposed to the free exercise of our
faculties, to our noblest desires, to our deepest feelings. Any plan which
could be devised for reconciling it with the demands of the individual
reason and will would end only in changing the thing while preserving the
name. Now, if we are honest truth-seekers, we shall avoid disputes about
words.

Thus, communism violates the sovereignty of the conscience, and equality:
the first, by restricting spontaneity of mind and heart, and freedom of
thought and action; the second, by placing labor and laziness, skill and
stupidity, and even vice and virtue on an equality in point of comfort.
For the rest, if property is impossible on account of the desire to
accumulate, communism would soon become so through the desire to shirk.

II. Property, in its turn, violates equality by the rights of exclusion
and increase, and freedom by despotism. The former effect of property
having been sufficiently developed in the last three chapters, I will
content myself here with establishing by a final comparison, its perfect
identity with robbery.

The Latin words for robber are fur and latro; the former
taken from the Greek {GREEK m }, from {GREEK m }, Latin fero, I
carry away; the latter from {GREEK ‘i }, I play the part of a brigand,
which is derived from {GREEK i }, Latin lateo, I conceal myself.
The Greeks have also {GREEK ncg }, from {GREEK ncg }, I filch, whose
radical consonants are the same as those of {GREEK ‘ cg }, I cover, I
conceal. Thus, in these languages, the idea of a robber is that of a man
who conceals, carries away, or diverts, in any manner whatever, a thing
which does not belong to him.

The Hebrews expressed the same idea by the word gannab,—robber,—from
the verb ganab, which means to put away, to turn aside: lo
thi-gnob (Decalogue: Eighth Commandment), thou shalt not steal,—that
is, thou shalt not hold back, thou shalt not put away any thing for
thyself. That is the act of a man who, on entering into a society into
which he agrees to bring all that he has, secretly reserves a portion, as
did the celebrated disciple Ananias.

The etymology of the French verb voler is still more significant.
Voler, or faire la vole (from the Latin vola, palm of
the hand), means to take all the tricks in a game of ombre; so that le
voleur, the robber, is the capitalist who takes all, who gets the
lion’s share. Probably this verb voler had its origin in the
professional slang of thieves, whence it has passed into common use, and,
consequently into the phraseology of the law.

Robbery is committed in a variety of ways, which have been very cleverly
distinguished and classified by legislators according to their heinousness
or merit, to the end that some robbers may be honored, while others are
punished.

We rob,—1. By murder on the highway; 2. Alone, or in a band; 3. By
breaking into buildings, or scaling walls; 4. By abstraction; 5. By
fraudulent bankruptcy; 6. By forgery of the handwriting of public
officials or private individuals; 7. By manufacture of counterfeit money.

We rob,—8. By cheating; 9. By swindling; 10. By abuse of trust; 11.
By games and lotteries.

This second species was encouraged by the laws of Lycurgus, in order to
sharpen the wits of the young. It is the kind practised by Ulysses, Solon,
and Sinon; by the ancient and modern Jews, from Jacob down to Deutz; and
by the Bohemians, the Arabs, and all savage tribes. Under Louis XIII. and
Louis XIV., it was not considered dishonorable to cheat at play. To do so
was a part of the game; and many worthy people did not scruple to correct
the caprice of Fortune by dexterous jugglery. To-day even, and in all
countries, it is thought a mark of merit among peasants, merchants, and
shopkeepers to KNOW HOW TO MAKE A BARGAIN,—that is, to deceive one’s
man. This is so universally accepted, that the cheated party takes no
offence. It is known with what reluctance our government resolved upon the
abolition of lotteries. It felt that it was dealing a stab thereby at
property. The pickpocket, the blackleg, and the charlatan make especial
use of their dexterity of hand, their subtlety of mind, the magic power of
their eloquence, and their great fertility of invention. Sometimes they
offer bait to cupidity. Therefore the penal code—which much prefers
intelligence to muscular vigor—has made, of the four varieties
mentioned above, a second category, liable only to correctional, not to
Ignominious, punishments.

Let them now accuse the law of being materialistic and atheistic.

We rob,—12. By usury.

This species of robbery, so odious and so severely punished since the
publication of the Gospel, is the connecting link between forbidden and
authorized robbery. Owing to its ambiguous nature, it has given rise to a
multitude of contradictions in the laws and in morals,—contradictions
which have been very cleverly turned to account by lawyers, financiers,
and merchants. Thus the usurer, who lends on mortgage at ten, twelve, and
fifteen per cent., is heavily fined when detected; while the banker, who
receives the same interest (not, it is true, upon a loan, but in the way
of exchange or discount,—that is, of sale), is protected by royal
privilege. But the distinction between the banker and the usurer is a
purely nominal one. Like the usurer, who lends on property, real or
personal, the banker lends on business paper; like the usurer, he takes
his interest in advance; like the usurer, he can recover from the borrower
if the property is destroyed (that is, if the note is not redeemed),—a
circumstance which makes him a money-lender, not a money-seller. But the
banker lends for a short time only, while the usurer’s loan may be for
one, two, three, or more years. Now, a difference in the duration of the
loan, or the form of the act, does not alter the nature of the
transaction. As for the capitalists who invest their money, either with
the State or in commercial operations, at three, four, and five per cent.,—that
is, who lend on usury at a little lower rate than the bankers and usurers,—they
are the flower of society, the cream of honesty! Moderation in robbery is
the height of virtue! 28

But what, then, is usury? Nothing is more amusing than to see these
INSTRUCTORS OF NATIONS hesitate between the authority of the Gospel,
which, they say, NEVER CAN HAVE SPOKEN IN VAIN, and the authority of
economical demonstrations. Nothing, to my mind, is more creditable to the
Gospel than this old infidelity of its pretended teachers. Salmasius,
having assimilated interest to rent, was REFUTED by Grotius, Pufendorf,
Burlamaqui, Wolf, and Heineccius; and, what is more curious still,
Salmasius ADMITTED HIS ERROR. Instead of inferring from this doctrine of
Salmasius that all increase is illegitimate, and proceeding straight on to
the demonstration of Gospel equality, they arrived at just the opposite
conclusion; namely, that since everybody acknowledges that rent is
permissible, if we allow that interest does not differ from rent, there is
nothing left which can be called usury, and, consequently, that the
commandment of Jesus Christ is an ILLUSION, and amounts to NOTHING, which
is an impious conclusion.

If this memoir had appeared in the time of Bossuet, that great theologian
would have PROVED by scripture, the fathers, traditions, councils, and
popes, that property exists by Divine right, while usury is an invention
of the devil; and the heretical work would have been burned, and the
author imprisoned.

We rob,—13. By farm-rent, house-rent, and leases of all kinds.

The author of the “Provincial Letters” entertained the honest Christians
of the seventeenth century at the expense of Escobar, the Jesuit, and the
contract Mohatra. “The contract Mohatra,” said Escobar, “is a contract by
which goods are bought, at a high price and on credit, to be again sold at
the same moment to the same person, cash down, and at a lower price.”
Escobar found a way to justify this kind of usury. Pascal and all the
Jansenists laughed at him. But what would the satirical Pascal, the
learned Nicole, and the invincible Arnaud have said, if Father Antoine
Escobar de Valladolid had answered them thus: “A lease is a contract by
which real estate is bought, at a high price and on credit, to be again
sold, at the expiration of a certain time, to the same person, at a lower
price; only, to simplify the transaction, the buyer is content to pay the
difference between the first sale and the second. Either deny the identity
of the lease and the contract Mohatra, and then I will annihilate you in a
moment; or, if you admit the similarity, admit also the soundness of my
doctrine: otherwise you proscribe both interest and rent at one blow”?

In reply to this overwhelming argument of the Jesuit, the sire of Montalte
would have sounded the tocsin, and would have shouted that society was in
peril,—that the Jesuits were sapping its very foundations.

We rob,—14. By commerce, when the profit of the merchant exceeds his
legitimate salary.

Everybody knows the definition of commerce—THE ART OF BUYING FOR
THREE FRANCS THAT WHICH IS WORTH SIX, AND OF SELLING FOR SIX THAT WHICH IS
WORTH THREE. Between commerce thus defined and vol a l’americaine,
the only difference is in the relative proportion of the values exchanged,—in
short, in the amount of the profit.

We rob,—15. By making profit on our product, by accepting sinecures,
and by exacting exorbitant wages.

The farmer, who sells a certain amount of corn to the consumer, and who
during the measurement thrusts his hand into the bushel and takes out a
handful of grains, robs; the professor, whose lectures are paid for by the
State, and who through the intervention of a bookseller sells them to the
public a second time, robs; the sinecurist, who receives an enormous
product in exchange for his vanity, robs; the functionary, the laborer,
whatever he may be, who produces only one and gets paid four, one hundred,
or one thousand, robs; the publisher of this book, and I, its author,—we
rob, by charging for it twice as much as it is worth.

In recapitulation:—

Justice, after passing through the state of negative communism, called by
the ancient poets the AGE OF GOLD, commences as the right of the
strongest. In a society which is trying to organize itself, inequality of
faculties calls up the idea of merit; equite suggests the plan of
proportioning not only esteem, but also material comforts, to personal
merit; and since the highest and almost the only merit then recognized is
physical strength, the strongest, {GREEK ‘ eg }, and consequently the
best, {GREEK ‘ eg }, is entitled to the largest share; and if it is
refused him, he very naturally takes it by force. From this to the
assumption of the right of property in all things, it is but one step.

Such was justice in the heroic age, preserved, at least by tradition,
among the Greeks and Romans down to the last days of their republics.
Plato, in the “Gorgias,” introduces a character named Callicles, who
spiritedly defends the right of the strongest, which Socrates, the
advocate of equality, {GREEK g e }, seriously refutes. It is related of
the great Pompey, that he blushed easily, and, nevertheless, these words
once escaped his lips: “Why should I respect the laws, when I have arms in
my hand?” This shows him to have been a man in whom the moral sense and
ambition were struggling for the mastery, and who sought to justify his
violence by the motto of the hero and the brigand.

From the right of the strongest springs the exploitation of man by man, or
bondage; usury, or the tribute levied upon the conquered by the conqueror;
and the whole numerous family of taxes, duties, monarchical prerogatives,
house-rents, farm-rents, &c.; in one word,—property.

Force was followed by artifice, the second manifestation of justice, which
was detested by the ancient heroes, who, not excelling in that direction,
were heavy losers by it. Force was still employed, but mental force
instead of physical. Skill in deceiving an enemy by treacherous
propositions seemed deserving of reward; nevertheless, the strong always
prided themselves upon their honesty. In those days, oaths were observed
and promises kept according to the letter rather than the spirit: Uti
lingua nuncupassit, ita jus esto,—”As the tongue has spoken, so
must the right be,” says the law of the Twelve Tables. Artifice, or rather
perfidy, was the main element in the politics of ancient Rome. Among other
examples, Vico cites the following, also quoted by Montesquieu: The Romans
had guaranteed to the Carthaginians the preservation of their goods and
their CITY,—intentionally using the word civitas, that is, the
society, the State; the Carthaginians, on the contrary, understood them to
mean the material city, urbs, and accordingly began to rebuild their
walls. They were immediately attacked on account of their violation of the
treaty, by the Romans, who, acting upon the old heroic idea of right, did
not imagine that, in taking advantage of an equivocation to surprise their
enemies, they were waging unjust war.

From artifice sprang the profits of manufactures, commerce, and banking,
mercantile frauds, and pretensions which are honored with the beautiful
names of TALENT and GENIUS, but which ought to be regarded as the last
degree of knavery and deception; and, finally, all sorts of social
inequalities.

In those forms of robbery which are prohibited by law, force and artifice
are employed alone and undisguised; in the authorized forms, they conceal
themselves within a useful product, which they use as a tool to plunder
their victim.

The direct use of violence and stratagem was early and universally
condemned; but no nation has yet got rid of that kind of robbery which
acts through talent, labor, and possession, and which is the source of all
the dilemmas of casuistry and the innumerable contradictions of
jurisprudence.

The right of force and the right of artifice—glorified by the
rhapsodists in the poems of the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey”—inspired
the legislation of the Greeks and Romans, from which they passed into our
morals and codes. Christianity has not changed at all. The Gospel should
not be blamed, because the priests, as stupid as the legists, have been
unable either to expound or to understand it. The ignorance of councils
and popes upon all questions of morality is equal to that of the
market-place and the money-changers; and it is this utter ignorance of
right, justice, and society, which is killing the Church, and discrediting
its teachings for ever. The infidelity of the Roman church and other
Christian churches is flagrant; all have disregarded the precept of Jesus;
all have erred in moral and doctrinal points; all are guilty of teaching
false and absurd dogmas, which lead straight to wickedness and murder. Let
it ask pardon of God and men,—this church which called itself
infallible, and which has grown so corrupt in morals; let its reformed
sisters humble themselves,… and the people, undeceived, but still
religious and merciful, will begin to think. 29

One of the main causes of Ireland’s poverty to-day is the immense revenues
of the English clergy. So heretics and orthodox—Protestants and
Papists—cannot reproach each other. All have strayed from the path
of justice; all have disobeyed the eighth commandment of the Decalogue:
“Thou shalt not steal.”

The development of right has followed the same order, in its various
expressions, that property has in its forms. Every where we see justice
driving robbery before it and confining it within narrower and narrower
limits. Hitherto the victories of justice over injustice, and of equality
over inequality, have been won by instinct and the simple force of things;
but the final triumph of our social nature will be due to our reason, or
else we shall fall back into feudal chaos. Either this glorious height is
reserved for our intelligence, or this miserable depth for our baseness.

The second effect of property is despotism. Now, since despotism is
inseparably connected with the idea of legitimate authority, in explaining
the natural causes of the first, the principle of the second will appear.

What is to be the form of government in the future? hear some of my
younger readers reply: “Why, how can you ask such a question?

“You are a republican.” “A republican! Yes; but that word specifies
nothing. Res publica; that is, the public thing. Now, whoever is
interested in public affairs—no matter under what form of government—may
call himself a republican. Even kings are republicans.”—

“Well! you are a democrat?”—”No.”—”What! you would have a
monarchy.”—”No.”—”A constitutionalist?”—”God forbid!”—”You
are then an aristocrat?”—”Not at all.”—”You want a mixed
government?”—”Still less.”—”What are you, then?”—”I am
an anarchist.”

“Oh! I understand you; you speak satirically. This is a hit at the
government.”—”By no means. I have just given you my serious and
well-considered profession of faith. Although a firm friend of order, I am
(in the full force of the term) an anarchist. Listen to me.”

In all species of sociable animals, “the weakness of the young is the
principle of their obedience to the old,” who are strong; and from habit,
which is a kind of conscience with them, the power remains with the
oldest, although he finally becomes the weakest.

Whenever the society is under the control of a chief, this chief is almost
always the oldest of the troop. I say almost always, because the
established order may be disturbed by violent outbreaks. Then the
authority passes to another; and, having been re-established by force, it
is again maintained by habit. Wild horses go in herds: they have a chief
who marches at their head, whom they confidently follow, and who gives the
signal for flight or battle.

“The sheep which we have raised follows us, but it follows in company with
the flock in the midst of which it was born. It regards man AS THE CHIEF
OF ITS FLOCK…. Man is regarded by domestic animals as a member of their
society. All that he has to do is to get himself accepted by them as an
associate: he soon becomes their chief, in consequence of his superior
intelligence. He does not, then, change the NATURAL CONDITION of these
animals, as Buffon has said. On the contrary, he uses this natural
condition to his own advantage; in other words, he finds SOCIABLE animals,
and renders them DOMESTIC by becoming their associate and chief. Thus, the
DOMESTICITY of animals is only a special condition, a simple modification,
a definitive consequence of their SOCIABILITY. All domestic animals are by
nature sociable animals.”…—Flourens: Summary of the Observations
of F. Cuvier.

Sociable animals follow their chief by INSTINCT; but take notice of the
fact (which F. Cuvier omitted to state), that the function of the chief is
altogether one of INTELLIGENCE. The chief does not teach the others to
associate, to unite under his lead, to reproduce their kind, to take to
flight, or to defend themselves. Concerning each of these particulars, his
subordinates are as well informed as he. But it is the chief who, by his
accumulated experience, provides against accidents; he it is whose private
intelligence supplements, in difficult situations, the general instinct;
he it is who deliberates, decides, and leads; he it is, in short, whose
enlightened prudence regulates the public routine for the greatest good of
all.

Man (naturally a sociable being) naturally follows a chief. Originally,
the chief is the father, the patriarch, the elder; in other words, the
good and wise man, whose functions, consequently, are exclusively of a
reflective and intellectual nature. The human race—like all other
races of sociable animals—has its instincts, its innate faculties,
its general ideas, and its categories of sentiment and reason. Its chiefs,
legislators, or kings have devised nothing, supposed nothing, imagined
nothing. They have only guided society by their accumulated experience,
always however in conformity with opinions and beliefs.

Those philosophers who (carrying into morals and into history their gloomy
and factious whims) affirm that the human race had originally neither
chiefs nor kings, know nothing of the nature of man. Royalty, and absolute
royalty, is—as truly and more truly than democracy—a primitive
form of government. Perceiving that, in the remotest ages, crowns and
kingships were worn by heroes, brigands, and knight-errants, they confound
the two things,—royalty and despotism. But royalty dates from the
creation of man; it existed in the age of negative communism. Ancient
heroism (and the despotism which it engendered) commenced only with the
first manifestation of the idea of justice; that is, with the reign of
force. As soon as the strongest, in the comparison of merits, was decided
to be the best, the oldest had to abandon his position, and royalty became
despotic.

The spontaneous, instinctive, and—so to speak—physiological
origin of royalty gives it, in the beginning, a superhuman character. The
nations connected it with the gods, from whom they said the first kings
descended. This notion was the origin of the divine genealogies of royal
families, the incarnations of gods, and the messianic fables. From it
sprang the doctrine of divine right, which is still championed by a few
singular characters.

Royalty was at first elective, because—at a time when man produced
but little and possessed nothing—property was too weak to establish
the principle of heredity, and secure to the son the throne of his father;
but as soon as fields were cleared, and cities built, each function was,
like every thing else, appropriated, and hereditary kingships and
priesthoods were the result. The principle of heredity was carried into
even the most ordinary professions,—a circumstance which led to
class distinctions, pride of station, and abjection of the common people,
and which confirms my assertion, concerning the principle of patrimonial
succession, that it is a method suggested by Nature of filling vacancies
in business, and completing unfinished tasks.

From time to time, ambition caused usurpers, or SUPPLANTERS of kings, to
start up; and, in consequence, some were called kings by right, or
legitimate kings, and others TYRANTS. But we must not let these names
deceive us. There have been execrable kings, and very tolerable tyrants.
Royalty may always be good, when it is the only possible form of
government; legitimate it is never. Neither heredity, nor election, nor
universal suffrage, nor the excellence of the sovereign, nor the
consecration of religion and of time, can make royalty legitimate.
Whatever form it takes,—monarchic, oligarchic, or democratic,—royalty,
or the government of man by man, is illegitimate and absurd.

Man, in order to procure as speedily as possible the most thorough
satisfaction of his wants, seeks RULE. In the beginning, this rule is to
him living, visible, and tangible. It is his father, his master, his king.
The more ignorant man is, the more obedient he is, and the more absolute
is his confidence in his guide. But, it being a law of man’s nature to
conform to rule,—that is, to discover it by his powers of reflection
and reason,—man reasons upon the commands of his chiefs. Now, such
reasoning as that is a protest against authority,—a beginning of
disobedience. At the moment that man inquires into the motives which
govern the will of his sovereign,—at that moment man revolts. If he
obeys no longer because the king commands, but because the king
demonstrates the wisdom of his commands, it may be said that henceforth he
will recognize no authority, and that he has become his own king. Unhappy
he who shall dare to command him, and shall offer, as his authority, only
the vote of the majority; for, sooner or later, the minority will become
the majority, and this imprudent despot will be overthrown, and all his
laws annihilated.

In proportion as society becomes enlightened, royal authority diminishes.
That is a fact to which all history bears witness. At the birth of
nations, men reflect and reason in vain. Without methods, without
principles, not knowing how to use their reason, they cannot judge of the
justice of their conclusions. Then the authority of kings is immense, no
knowledge having been acquired with which to contradict it. But, little by
little, experience produces habits, which develop into customs; then the
customs are formulated in maxims, laid down as principles,—in short,
transformed into laws, to which the king, the living law, has to bow.
There comes a time when customs and laws are so numerous that the will of
the prince is, so to speak, entwined by the public will; and that, on
taking the crown, he is obliged to swear that he will govern in conformity
with established customs and usages; and that he is but the executive
power of a society whose laws are made independently of him.

Up to this point, all is done instinctively, and, as it were,
unconsciously; but see where this movement must end.

By means of self-instruction and the acquisition of ideas, man finally
acquires the idea of SCIENCE,—that is, of a system of knowledge in
harmony with the reality of things, and inferred from observation. He
searches for the science, or the system, of inanimate bodies,—the
system of organic bodies, the system of the human mind, and the system of
the universe: why should he not also search for the system of society?
But, having reached this height, he comprehends that political truth, or
the science of politics, exists quite independently of the will of
sovereigns, the opinion of majorities, and popular beliefs,—that
kings, ministers, magistrates, and nations, as wills, have no connection
with the science, and are worthy of no consideration. He comprehends, at
the same time, that, if man is born a sociable being, the authority of his
father over him ceases on the day when, his mind being formed and his
education finished, he becomes the associate of his father; that his true
chief and his king is the demonstrated truth; that politics is a science,
not a stratagem; and that the function of the legislator is reduced, in
the last analysis, to the methodical search for truth.

Thus, in a given society, the authority of man over man is inversely
proportional to the stage of intellectual development which that society
has reached; and the probable duration of that authority can be calculated
from the more or less general desire for a true government,—that is,
for a scientific government. And just as the right of force and the right
of artifice retreat before the steady advance of justice, and must finally
be extinguished in equality, so the sovereignty of the will yields to the
sovereignty of the reason, and must at last be lost in scientific
socialism. Property and royalty have been crumbling to pieces ever since
the world began. As man seeks justice in equality, so society seeks order
in anarchy.

ANARCHY,—the absence of a master, of a sovereign, 30—such
is the form of government to which we are every day approximating, and
which our accustomed habit of taking man for our rule, and his will for
law, leads us to regard as the height of disorder and the expression of
chaos. The story is told, that a citizen of Paris in the seventeenth
century having heard it said that in Venice there was no king, the good
man could not recover from his astonishment, and nearly died from laughter
at the mere mention of so ridiculous a thing. So strong is our prejudice.
As long as we live, we want a chief or chiefs; and at this very moment I
hold in my hand a brochure, whose author—a zealous communist—dreams,
like a second Marat, of the dictatorship. The most advanced among us are
those who wish the greatest possible number of sovereigns,—their
most ardent wish is for the royalty of the National Guard. Soon,
undoubtedly, some one, jealous of the citizen militia, will say,
“Everybody is king.” But, when he has spoken, I will say, in my turn,
“Nobody is king; we are, whether we will or no, associated.” Every
question of domestic politics must be decided by departmental statistics;
every question of foreign politics is an affair of international
statistics. The science of government rightly belongs to one of the
sections of the Academy of Sciences, whose permanent secretary is
necessarily prime minister; and, since every citizen may address a memoir
to the Academy, every citizen is a legislator. But, as the opinion of no
one is of any value until its truth has been proven, no one can substitute
his will for reason,—nobody is king.

All questions of legislation and politics are matters of science, not of
opinion. The legislative power belongs only to the reason, methodically
recognized and demonstrated. To attribute to any power whatever the right
of veto or of sanction, is the last degree of tyranny. Justice and
legality are two things as independent of our approval as is mathematical
truth. To compel, they need only to be known; to be known, they need only
to be considered and studied. What, then, is the nation, if it is not the
sovereign,—if it is not the source of the legislative power?

The nation is the guardian of the law—the nation is the EXECUTIVE
POWER. Every citizen may assert: “This is true; that is just;” but his
opinion controls no one but himself. That the truth which he proclaims may
become a law, it must be recognized. Now, what is it to recognize a law?
It is to verify a mathematical or a metaphysical calculation; it is to
repeat an experiment, to observe a phenomenon, to establish a fact. Only
the nation has the right to say, “Be it known and decreed.”

I confess that this is an overturning of received ideas, and that I seem
to be attempting to revolutionize our political system; but I beg the
reader to consider that, having begun with a paradox, I must, if I reason
correctly, meet with paradoxes at every step, and must end with paradoxes.
For the rest, I do not see how the liberty of citizens would be endangered
by entrusting to their hands, instead of the pen of the legislator, the
sword of the law. The executive power, belonging properly to the will,
cannot be confided to too many proxies. That is the true sovereignty of
the nation. 31

The proprietor, the robber, the hero, the sovereign—for all these
titles are synonymous—imposes his will as law, and suffers neither
contradiction nor control; that is, he pretends to be the legislative and
the executive power at once. Accordingly, the substitution of the
scientific and true law for the royal will is accomplished only by a
terrible struggle; and this constant substitution is, after property, the
most potent element in history, the most prolific source of political
disturbances. Examples are too numerous and too striking to require
enumeration.

Now, property necessarily engenders despotism,—the government of
caprice, the reign of libidinous pleasure. That is so clearly the essence
of property that, to be convinced of it, one need but remember what it is,
and observe what happens around him. Property is the right to USE and
ABUSE. If, then, government is economy,—if its object is production
and consumption, and the distribution of labor and products,—how is
government possible while property exists? And if goods are property, why
should not the proprietors be kings, and despotic kings—kings in
proportion to their facultes bonitaires? And if each proprietor is
sovereign lord within the sphere of his property, absolute king throughout
his own domain, how could a government of proprietors be any thing but
chaos and confusion?

% 3.—Determination of the third form of Society. Conclusion.

Then, no government, no public economy, no administration, is possible,
which is based upon property.

Communism seeks EQUALITY and LAW. Property, born of the sovereignty of the
reason, and the sense of personal merit, wishes above all things
INDEPENDENCE and PROPORTIONALITY.

But communism, mistaking uniformity for law, and levelism for equality,
becomes tyrannical and unjust. Property, by its despotism and
encroachments, soon proves itself oppressive and anti-social.

The objects of communism and property are good—their results are
bad. And why? Because both are exclusive, and each disregards two elements
of society. Communism rejects independence and proportionality; property
does not satisfy equality and law.

Now, if we imagine a society based upon these four principles,—equality,
law, independence, and proportionality,—we find:—

1. That EQUALITY, consisting only in EQUALITY OF CONDITIONS, that is, OF
MEANS, and not in EQUALITY OF COMFORT,—which it is the business of
the laborers to achieve for themselves, when provided with equal means,—in
no way violates justice and equite.

2. That LAW, resulting from the knowledge of facts, and consequently based
upon necessity itself, never clashes with independence.

3. That individual INDEPENDENCE, or the autonomy of the private reason,
originating in the difference in talents and capacities, can exist without
danger within the limits of the law.

4. That PROPORTIONALITY, being admitted only in the sphere of intelligence
and sentiment, and not as regards material objects, may be observed
without violating justice or social equality.

This third form of society, the synthesis of communism and property, we
will call LIBERTY. 32

In determining the nature of liberty, we do not unite communism and
property indiscriminately; such a process would be absurd eclecticism. We
search by analysis for those elements in each which are true, and in
harmony with the laws of Nature and society, disregarding the rest
altogether; and the result gives us an adequate expression of the natural
form of human society,—in one word, liberty.

Liberty is equality, because liberty exists only in society; and in the
absence of equality there is no society.

Liberty is anarchy, because it does not admit the government of the will,
but only the authority of the law; that is, of necessity.

Liberty is infinite variety, because it respects all wills within the
limits of the law.

Liberty is proportionality, because it allows the utmost latitude to the
ambition for merit, and the emulation of glory.

We can now say, in the words of M. Cousin: “Our principle is true; it is
good, it is social; let us not fear to push it to its ultimate.”

Man’s social nature becoming JUSTICE through reflection, EQUITE through
the classification of capacities, and having LIBERTY for its formula, is
the true basis of morality,—the principle and regulator of all our
actions. This is the universal motor, which philosophy is searching for,
which religion strengthens, which egotism supplants, and whose place pure
reason never can fill. DUTY and RIGHT are born of NEED, which, when
considered in connection with others, is a RIGHT, and when considered in
connection with ourselves, a DUTY.

We need to eat and sleep. It is our right to procure those things which
are necessary to rest and nourishment. It is our duty to use them when
Nature requires it.

We need to labor in order to live. To do so is both our right and our
duty.

We need to love our wives and children. It is our duty to protect and
support them. It is our right to be loved in preference to all others.
Conjugal fidelity is justice. Adultery is high treason against society.

We need to exchange our products for other products. It is our right that
this exchange should be one of equivalents; and since we consume before we
produce, it would be our duty, if we could control the matter, to see to
it that our last product shall follow our last consumption. Suicide is
fraudulent bankruptcy.

We need to live our lives according to the dictates of our reason. It is
our right to maintain our freedom. It is our duty to respect that of
others.

We need to be appreciated by our fellows. It is our duty to deserve their
praise. It is our right to be judged by our works.

Liberty is not opposed to the rights of succession and bequest. It
contents itself with preventing violations of equality. “Choose,” it tells
us, “between two legacies, but do not take them both.” All our legislation
concerning transmissions, entailments, adoptions, and, if I may venture to
use such a word, COADJUTORERIES, requires remodelling.

Liberty favors emulation, instead of destroying it. In social equality,
emulation consists in accomplishing under like conditions; it is its own
reward. No one suffers by the victory.

Liberty applauds self-sacrifice, and honors it with its votes, but it can
dispense with it. Justice alone suffices to maintain the social
equilibrium. Self-sacrifice is an act of supererogation. Happy, however,
the man who can say, “I sacrifice myself.” 33

Liberty is essentially an organizing force. To insure equality between men
and peace among nations, agriculture and industry, and the centres of
education, business, and storage, must be distributed according to the
climate and the geographical position of the country, the nature of the
products, the character and natural talents of the inhabitants, &c.,
in proportions so just, so wise, so harmonious, that in no place shall
there ever be either an excess or a lack of population, consumption, and
products. There commences the science of public and private right, the
true political economy. It is for the writers on jurisprudence, henceforth
unembarrassed by the false principle of property, to describe the new
laws, and bring peace upon earth. Knowledge and genius they do not lack;
the foundation is now laid for them. 34

I have accomplished my task; property is conquered, never again to arise.
Wherever this work is read and discussed, there will be deposited the germ
of death to property; there, sooner or later, privilege and servitude will
disappear, and the despotism of will will give place to the reign of
reason. What sophisms, indeed, what prejudices (however obstinate) can
stand before the simplicity of the following propositions:—

I. Individual POSSESSION 35 is the condition of social life;
five thousand years of property demonstrate it. PROPERTY is the suicide of
society. Possession is a right; property is against right. Suppress
property while maintaining possession, and, by this simple modification of
the principle, you will revolutionize law, government, economy, and
institutions; you will drive evil from the face of the earth.

II. All having an equal right of occupancy, possession varies with the
number of possessors; property cannot establish itself.

III. The effect of labor being the same for all, property is lost in the
common prosperity.

IV. All human labor being the result of collective force, all property
becomes, in consequence, collective and unitary. To speak more exactly,
labor destroys property.

V. Every capacity for labor being, like every instrument of labor, an
accumulated capital, and a collective property, inequality of wages and
fortunes (on the ground of inequality of capacities) is, therefore,
injustice and robbery.

VI. The necessary conditions of commerce are the liberty of the
contracting parties and the equivalence of the products exchanged. Now,
value being expressed by the amount of time and outlay which each product
costs, and liberty being inviolable, the wages of laborers (like their
rights and duties) should be equal.

VII. Products are bought only by products. Now, the condition of all
exchange being equivalence of products, profit is impossible and unjust.
Observe this elementary principle of economy, and pauperism, luxury,
oppression, vice, crime, and hunger will disappear from our midst.

VIII. Men are associated by the physical and mathematical law of
production, before they are voluntarily associated by choice. Therefore,
equality of conditions is demanded by justice; that is, by strict social
law: esteem, friendship, gratitude, admiration, all fall within the domain
of EQUITABLE or PROPORTIONAL law only.

IX. Free association, liberty—whose sole function is to maintain
equality in the means of production and equivalence in exchanges—is
the only possible, the only just, the only true form of society.

X. Politics is the science of liberty. The government of man by man (under
whatever name it be disguised) is oppression. Society finds its highest
perfection in the union of order with anarchy.

The old civilization has run its race; a new sun is rising, and will soon
renew the face of the earth. Let the present generation perish, let the
old prevaricators die in the desert! the holy earth shall not cover their
bones. Young man, exasperated by the corruption of the age, and absorbed
in your zeal for justice!—if your country is dear to you, and if you
have the interests of humanity at heart, have the courage to espouse the
cause of liberty! Cast off your old selfishness, and plunge into the
rising flood of popular equality! There your regenerate soul will acquire
new life and vigor; your enervated genius will recover unconquerable
energy; and your heart, perhaps already withered, will be rejuvenated!
Every thing will wear a different look to your illuminated vision; new
sentiments will engender new ideas within you; religion, morality, poetry,
art, language will appear before you in nobler and fairer forms; and
thenceforth, sure of your faith, and thoughtfully enthusiastic, you will
hail the dawn of universal regeneration!

And you, sad victims of an odious law!—you, whom a jesting world
despoils and outrages!—you, whose labor has always been fruitless,
and whose rest has been without hope,—take courage! your tears are
numbered! The fathers have sown in affliction, the children shall reap in
rejoicings!

O God of liberty! God of equality! Thou who didst place in my heart the
sentiment of justice, before my reason could comprehend it, hear my ardent
prayer! Thou hast dictated all that I have written; Thou hast shaped my
thought; Thou hast directed my studies; Thou hast weaned my mind from
curiosity and my heart from attachment, that I might publish Thy truth to
the master and the slave. I have spoken with what force and talent Thou
hast given me: it is Thine to finish the work. Thou knowest whether I seek
my welfare or Thy glory, O God of liberty! Ah! perish my memory, and let
humanity be free! Let me see from my obscurity the people at last
instructed; let noble teachers enlighten them; let generous spirits guide
them! Abridge, if possible, the time of our trial; stifle pride and
avarice in equality; annihilate this love of glory which enslaves us;
teach these poor children that in the bosom of liberty there are neither
heroes nor great men! Inspire the powerful man, the rich man, him whose
name my lips shall never pronounce in Thy presence, with a horror of his
crimes; let him be the first to apply for admission to the redeemed
society; let the promptness of his repentance be the ground of his
forgiveness! Then, great and small, wise and foolish, rich and poor, will
unite in an ineffable fraternity; and, singing in unison a new hymn, will
rebuild Thy altar, O God of liberty and equality!

END OF FIRST MEMOIR.

WHAT IS PROPERTY? SECOND MEMOIR

A LETTER TO M. BLANQUI.

SECOND MEMOIR.

PARIS, April 1, 1841.

MONSIEUR,—

Before resuming my “Inquiries into Government and Property,” it is
fitting, for the satisfaction of some worthy people, and also in the
interest of order, that I should make to you a plain, straightforward
explanation. In a much-governed State, no one would be allowed to attack
the external form of the society, and the groundwork of its institutions,
until he had established his right to do so,—first, by his morality;
second, by his capacity; and, third, by the purity of his intentions. Any
one who, wishing to publish a treatise upon the constitution of the
country, could not satisfy this threefold condition, would be obliged to
procure the endorsement of a responsible patron possessing the requisite
qualifications.

But we Frenchmen have the liberty of the press. This grand right—the
sword of thought, which elevates the virtuous citizen to the rank of
legislator, and makes the malicious citizen an agent of discord—frees
us from all preliminary responsibility to the law; but it does not release
us from our internal obligation to render a public account of our
sentiments and thoughts. I have used, in all its fulness, and concerning
an important question, the right which the charter grants us. I come
to-day, sir, to submit my conscience to your judgment, and my feeble
insight to your discriminating reason. You have criticised in a kindly
spirit—I had almost said with partiality for the writer—a work
which teaches a doctrine that you thought it your duty to condemn. “The
Academy of Moral and Political Sciences,” said you in your report, “can
accept the conclusions of the author only as far as it likes.” I venture
to hope, sir, that, after you have read this letter, if your prudence
still restrains you, your fairness will induce you to do me justice.

MEN, EQUAL IN THE DIGNITY OF THEIR PERSONS AND EQUAL BEFORE THE LAW,
SHOULD BE EQUAL IN THEIR CONDITIONS,—such is the thesis which I
maintained and developed in a memoir bearing the title, “What is Property?
or, An Inquiry into the Principle of Right and of Government.”

The idea of social equality, even in individual fortunes, has in all ages
besieged, like a vague presentiment, the human imagination. Poets have
sung of it in their hymns; philosophers have dreamed of it in their
Utopias; priests teach it, but only for the spiritual world. The people,
governed by it, never have had faith in it; and the civil power is never
more disturbed than by the fables of the age of gold and the reign of
Astrea. A year ago, however, this idea received a scientific
demonstration, which has not yet been satisfactorily answered, and, permit
me to add, never will be. This demonstration, owing to its slightly
impassioned style, its method of reasoning,—which was so at variance
with that employed by the generally recognized authorities,—and the
importance and novelty of its conclusions, was of a nature to cause some
alarm; and might have been dangerous, had it not been—as you, sir,
so well said—a sealed letter, so far as the general public was
concerned, addressed only to men of intelligence. I was glad to see that
through its metaphysical dress you recognized the wise foresight of the
author; and I thank you for it. May God grant that my intentions, which
are wholly peaceful, may never be charged upon me as treasonable!

Like a stone thrown into a mass of serpents, the First Memoir on Property
excited intense animosity, and aroused the passions of many. But, while
some wished the author and his work to be publicly denounced, others found
in them simply the solution of the fundamental problems of society; a few
even basing evil speculations upon the new light which they had obtained.
It was not to be expected that a system of inductions abstractly gathered
together, and still more abstractly expressed, would be understood with
equal accuracy in its ensemble and in each of its parts.

To find the law of equality, no longer in charity and self-sacrifice
(which are not binding in their nature), but in justice; to base equality
of functions upon equality of persons; to determine the absolute principle
of exchange; to neutralize the inequality of individual faculties by
collective force; to establish an equation between property and robbery;
to change the law of succession without destroying the principle; to
maintain the human personality in a system of absolute association, and to
save liberty from the chains of communism; to synthetize the monarchical
and democratic forms of government; to reverse the division of powers; to
give the executive power to the nation, and to make legislation a
positive, fixed, and absolute science,—what a series of paradoxes!
what a string of delusions! if I may not say, what a chain of truths! But
it is not my purpose here to pass upon the theory of the right of
possession. I discuss no dogmas. My only object is to justify my views,
and to show that, in writing as I did, I not only exercised a right, but
performed a duty.

Yes, I have attacked property, and shall attack it again; but, sir, before
demanding that I shall make the amende honorable for having obeyed my
conscience and spoken the exact truth, condescend, I beg of you, to cast a
glance at the events which are happening around us; look at our deputies,
our magistrates, our philosophers, our ministers, our professors, and our
publicists; examine their methods of dealing with the matter of property;
count up with me the restrictions placed upon it every day in the name of
the public welfare; measure the breaches already made; estimate those
which society thinks of making hereafter; add the ideas concerning
property held by all theories in common; interrogate history, and then
tell me what will be left, half a century hence, of this old right of
property; and, thus perceiving that I have so many accomplices, you will
immediately declare me innocent.

What is the law of expropriation on the ground of public utility, which
everybody favors, and which is even thought too lenient? 36

A flagrant violation of the right of property. Society indemnifies, it is
said, the dispossessed proprietor; but does it return to him the
traditional associations, the poetic charm, and the family pride which
accompany property? Naboth, and the miller of Sans-Souci, would have
protested against French law, as they protested against the caprice of
their kings. “It is the field of our fathers,” they would have cried, “and
we will not sell it!” Among the ancients, the refusal of the individual
limited the powers of the State. The Roman law bowed to the will of the
citizen, and an emperor—Commodus, if I remember rightly—abandoned
the project of enlarging the forum out of respect for the rights of the
occupants who refused to abdicate. Property is a real right, jus in
re,—a right inherent in the thing, and whose principle lies in
the external manifestation of man’s will. Man leaves his imprint, stamps
his character, upon the objects of his handiwork. This plastic force of
man, as the modern jurists say, is the seal which, set upon matter, makes
it holy. Whoever lays hands upon it, against the proprietor’s will, does
violence to the latter’s personality. And yet, when an administrative
committee saw fit to declare that public utility required it, property had
to give way to the general will. Soon, in the name of public utility,
methods of cultivation and conditions of enjoyment will be prescribed;
inspectors of agriculture and manufactures will be appointed; property
will be taken away from unskilful hands, and entrusted to laborers who are
more deserving of it; and a general superintendence of production will be
established. It is not two years since I saw a proprietor destroy a forest
more than five hundred acres in extent. If public utility had interfered,
that forest—the only one for miles around—would still be
standing.

But, it is said, expropriation on the ground of public utility is only an
exception which confirms the principle, and bears testimony in favor of
the right. Very well; but from this exception we will pass to another,
from that to a third, and so on from exceptions to exceptions, until we
have reduced the rule to a pure abstraction.

How many supporters do you think, sir, can be claimed for the project of
the conversion of the public funds? I venture to say that everybody favors
it, except the fund-holders. Now, this so-called conversion is an
extensive expropriation, and in this case with no indemnity whatever. The
public funds are so much real estate, the income from which the proprietor
counts upon with perfect safety, and which owes its value to the tacit
promise of the government to pay interest upon it at the established rate,
until the fund-holder applies for redemption. For, if the income is liable
to diminution, it is less profitable than house-rent or farm-rent, whose
rates may rise or fall according to the fluctuations in the market; and in
that case, what inducement has the capitalist to invest his money in the
State? When, then, you force the fund-holder to submit to a diminution of
interest, you make him bankrupt to the extent of the diminution; and
since, in consequence of the conversion, an equally profitable investment
becomes impossible, you depreciate his property.

That such a measure may be justly executed, it must be generalized; that
is, the law which provides for it must decree also that interest on sums
lent on deposit or on mortgage throughout the realm, as well as house and
farm-rents, shall be reduced to three per cent. This simultaneous
reduction of all kinds of income would be not a whit more difficult to
accomplish than the proposed conversion; and, further, it would offer the
advantage of forestalling at one blow all objections to it, at the same
time that it would insure a just assessment of the land-tax. See! If at
the moment of conversion a piece of real estate yields an income of one
thousand francs, after the new law takes effect it will yield only six
hundred francs. Now, allowing the tax to be an aliquot part—one-fourth
for example—of the income derived from each piece of property, it is
clear on the one hand that the proprietor would not, in order to lighten
his share of the tax, underestimate the value of his property; since,
house and farm-rents being fixed by the value of the capital, and the
latter being measured by the tax, to depreciate his real estate would be
to reduce his revenue. On the other hand, it is equally evident that the
same proprietors could not overestimate the value of their property, in
order to increase their incomes beyond the limits of the law, since the
tenants and farmers, with their old leases in their hands, would enter a
protest.

Such, sir, must be the result sooner or later of the conversion which has
been so long demanded; otherwise, the financial operation of which we are
speaking would be a crying injustice, unless intended as a stepping-stone.
This last motive seems the most plausible one; for in spite of the clamors
of interested parties, and the flagrant violation of certain rights, the
public conscience is bound to fulfil its desire, and is no more affected
when charged with attacking property, than when listening to the
complaints of the bondholders. In this case, instinctive justice belies
legal justice.

Who has not heard of the inextricable confusion into which the Chamber of
Deputies was thrown last year, while discussing the question of colonial
and native sugars? Did they leave these two industries to themselves? The
native manufacturer was ruined by the colonist. To maintain the beet-root,
the cane had to be taxed. To protect the property of the one, it became
necessary to violate the property of the other. The most remarkable
feature of this business was precisely that to which the least attention
was paid; namely, that, in one way or another, property had to be
violated. Did they impose on each industry a proportional tax, so as to
preserve a balance in the market? They created a maximum PRICE for each
variety of sugar; and, as this maximum PRICE was not the same, they
attacked property in two ways,—on the one hand, interfering with the
liberty of trade; on the other, disregarding the equality of proprietors.
Did they suppress the beet-root by granting an indemnity to the
manufacturer? They sacrificed the property of the tax-payer. Finally, did
they prefer to cultivate the two varieties of sugar at the nation’s
expense, just as different varieties of tobacco are cultivated? They
abolished, so far as the sugar industry was concerned, the right of
property. This last course, being the most social, would have been
certainly the best; but, if property is the necessary basis of
civilization, how is this deep-seated antagonism to be explained? 37

Not satisfied with the power of dispossessing a citizen on the ground of
public utility, they want also to dispossess him on the ground of PRIVATE
UTILITY. For a long time, a revision of the law concerning mortgages was
clamored for; a process was demanded, in behalf of all kinds of credit and
in the interest of even the debtors themselves, which would render the
expropriation of real estate as prompt, as easy, and as effective as that
which follows a commercial protest. The Chamber of Deputies, in the early
part of this year, 1841, discussed this project, and the law was passed
almost unanimously. There is nothing more just, nothing more reasonable,
nothing more philosophical apparently, than the motives which gave rise to
this reform.

I. Formerly, the small proprietor whose obligation had arrived at
maturity, and who found himself unable to meet it, had to employ all that
he had left, after being released from his debt, in defraying the legal
costs. Henceforth, the promptness of expropriation will save him from
total ruin. 2. The difficulties in the way of payment arrested credit, and
prevented the employment of capital in agricultural enterprises. This
cause of distrust no longer existing, capitalists will find new markets,
agriculture will rapidly develop, and farmers will be the first to enjoy
the benefit of the new law. 3. Finally, it was iniquitous and absurd,
that, on account of a protested note, a poor manufacturer should see in
twenty-four hours his business arrested, his labor suspended, his
merchandise seized, his machinery sold at auction, and finally himself led
off to prison, while two years were sometimes necessary to expropriate the
most miserable piece of real estate.

These arguments, and others besides, you clearly stated, sir, in your
first lectures of this academic year.

But, when stating these excellent arguments, did you ask yourself, sir,
whither would tend such a transformation of our system of mortgages?… To
monetize, if I may say so, landed property; to accumulate it within
portfolios; to separate the laborer from the soil, man from Nature; to
make him a wanderer over the face of the earth; to eradicate from his
heart every trace of family feeling, national pride, and love of country;
to isolate him more and more; to render him indifferent to all around him;
to concentrate his love upon one object,—money; and, finally, by the
dishonest practices of usury, to monopolize the land to the profit of a
financial aristocracy,—a worthy auxiliary of that industrial
feudality whose pernicious influence we begin to feel so bitterly. Thus,
little by little, the subordination of the laborer to the idler, the
restoration of abolished castes, and the distinction between patrician and
plebeian, would be effected; thus, thanks to the new privileges granted to
the property of the capitalists, that of the small and intermediate
proprietors would gradually disappear, and with it the whole class of free
and honest laborers. This certainly is not my plan for the abolition of
property. Far from mobilizing the soil, I would, if possible, immobilize
even the functions of pure intelligence, so that society might be the
fulfilment of the intentions of Nature, who gave us our first possession,
the land. For, if the instrument or capital of production is the mark of
the laborer, it is also his pedestal, his support, his country, and, as
the Psalmist says, THE PLACE OF HIS ACTIVITY AND HIS REST. 38

Let us examine more closely still the inevitable and approaching result of
the last law concerning judicial sales and mortgages. Under the system of
competition which is killing us, and whose necessary expression is a
plundering and tyrannical government, the farmer will need always capital
in order to repair his losses, and will be forced to contract loans.
Always depending upon the future for the payment of his debts, he will be
deceived in his hope, and surprised by maturity. For what is there more
prompt, more unexpected, more abbreviatory of space and time, than the
maturity of an obligation? I address this question to all whom this
pitiless Nemesis pursues, and even troubles in their dreams. Now, under
the new law, the expropriation of a debtor will be effected a hundred
times more rapidly; then, also, spoliation will be a hundred times surer,
and the free laborer will pass a hundred times sooner from his present
condition to that of a serf attached to the soil. Formerly, the length of
time required to effect the seizure curbed the usurer’s avidity, gave the
borrower an opportunity to recover himself, and gave rise to a transaction
between him and his creditor which might result finally in a complete
release. Now, the debtor’s sentence is irrevocable: he has but a few days
of grace.

And what advantages are promised by this law as an offset to this sword of
Damocles, suspended by a single hair over the head of the unfortunate
husbandman? The expenses of seizure will be much less, it is said; but
will the interest on the borrowed capital be less exorbitant? For, after
all, it is interest which impoverishes the peasant and leads to his
expropriation. That the law may be in harmony with its principle, that it
may be truly inspired by that spirit of justice for which it is commended,
it must—while facilitating expropriation—lower the legal price
of money. Otherwise, the reform concerning mortgages is but a trap set for
small proprietors,—a legislative trick.

Lower interest on money! But, as we have just seen, that is to limit
property. Here, sir, you shall make your own defence. More than once, in
your learned lectures, I have heard you deplore the precipitancy of the
Chambers, who, without previous study and without profound knowledge of
the subject, voted almost unanimously to maintain the statutes and
privileges of the Bank. Now these privileges, these statutes, this vote of
the Chambers, mean simply this,—that the market price of specie, at
five or six per cent., is not too high, and that the conditions of
exchange, discount, and circulation, which generally double this interest,
are none too severe. So the government thinks. M. Blanqui—a
professor of political economy, paid by the State—maintains the
contrary, and pretends to demonstrate, by decisive arguments, the
necessity of a reform. Who, then, best understands the interests of
property,—the State, or M. Blanqui?

If specie could be borrowed at half the present rate, the revenues from
all sorts of property would soon be reduced one-half also. For example:
when it costs less to build a house than to hire one, when it is cheaper
to clear a field than to procure one already cleared, competition
inevitably leads to a reduction of house and farm-rents, since the surest
way to depreciate active capital is to increase its amount. But it is a
law of political economy that an increase of production augments the mass
of available capital, consequently tends to raise wages, and finally to
annihilate interest. Then, proprietors are interested in maintaining the
statutes and privileges of the Bank; then, a reform in this matter would
compromise the right of increase; then, the peers and deputies are better
informed than Professor Blanqui.

But these same deputies,—so jealous of their privileges whenever the
equalizing effects of a reform are within their intellectual horizon,—what
did they do a few days before they passed the law concerning judicial
sales? They formed a conspiracy against property! Their law to regulate
the labor of children in factories will, without doubt, prevent the
manufacturer from compelling a child to labor more than so many hours a
day; but it will not force him to increase the pay of the child, nor that
of its father. To-day, in the interest of health, we diminish the
subsistence of the poor; to-morrow it will be necessary to protect them by
fixing their MINIMUM wages. But to fix their minimum wages is to compel
the proprietor, is to force the master to accept his workman as an
associate, which interferes with freedom and makes mutual insurance
obligatory. Once entered upon this path, we never shall stop. Little by
little the government will become manufacturer, commission-merchant, and
retail dealer.

It will be the sole proprietor. Why, at all epochs, have the ministers of
State been so reluctant to meddle with the question of wages? Why have
they always refused to interfere between the master and the workman?
Because they knew the touchy and jealous nature of property, and,
regarding it as the principle of all civilization, felt that to meddle
with it would be to unsettle the very foundations of society. Sad
condition of the proprietary regime,—one of inability to exercise
charity without violating justice! 39

And, sir, this fatal consequence which necessity forces upon the State is
no mere imagination. Even now the legislative power is asked, no longer
simply to regulate the government of factories, but to create factories
itself. Listen to the millions of voices shouting on all hands for THE
ORGANISATION OF LABOR, THE CREATION OF NATIONAL WORKSHOPS! The whole
laboring class is agitated: it has its journals, organs, and
representatives. To guarantee labor to the workingman, to balance
production with sale, to harmonize industrial proprietors, it advocates
to-day—as a sovereign remedy—one sole head, one national
wardenship, one huge manufacturing company. For, sir, all this is included
in the idea of national workshops. On this subject I wish to quote, as
proof, the views of an illustrious economist, a brilliant mind, a
progressive intellect, an enthusiastic soul, a true patriot, and yet an
official defender of the right of property. 40

The honorable professor of the Conservatory proposes then,—

1. TO CHECK THE CONTINUAL EMIGRATION OF LABORERS FROM THE COUNTRY INTO THE
CITIES.

But, to keep the peasant in his village, his residence there must be made
endurable: to be just to all, the proletaire of the country must be
treated as well as the proletaire of the city. Reform is needed, then, on
farms as well as in factories; and, when the government enters the
workshop, the government must seize the plough! What becomes, during this
progressive invasion, of independent cultivation, exclusive domain,
property?

2. TO FIX FOR EACH PROFESSION A MODERATE SALARY, VARYING WITH TIME AND
PLACE AND BASED UPON CERTAIN DATA.

The object of this measure would be to secure to laborers their
subsistence, and to proprietors their profits, while obliging the latter
to sacrifice from motives of prudence, if for no other reason, a portion
of their income. Now, I say, that this portion, in the long run, would
swell until at last there would be an equality of enjoyment between the
proletaire and the proprietor. For, as we have had occasion to remark
several times already, the interest of the capitalist—in other words
the increase of the idler—tends, on account of the power of labor,
the multiplication of products and exchanges, to continually diminish,
and, by constant reduction, to disappear. So that, in the society proposed
by M. Blanqui, equality would not be realized at first, but would exist
potentially; since property, though outwardly seeming to be industrial
feudality, being no longer a principle of exclusion and encroachment, but
only a privilege of division, would not be slow, thanks to the
intellectual and political emancipation of the proletariat, in passing
into absolute equality,—as absolute at least as any thing can be on
this earth.

I omit, for the sake of brevity, the numerous considerations which the
professor adduces in support of what he calls, too modestly in my opinion,
his Utopia. They would serve only to prove beyond all question that, of
all the charlatans of radicalism who fatigue the public ear, no one
approaches, for depth and clearness of thought, the audacious M. Blanqui.

3. NATIONAL WORKSHOPS SHOULD BE IN OPERATION ONLY DURING PERIODS OF
STAGNATION IN ORDINARY INDUSTRIES; AT SUCH TIMES THEY SHOULD BE OPENED AS
VAST OUTLETS TO THE FLOOD OF THE LABORING POPULATION.

But, sir, the stoppage of private industry is the result of
over-production, and insufficient markets. If, then, production continues
in the national workshops, how will the crisis be terminated? Undoubtedly,
by the general depreciation of merchandise, and, in the last analysis, by
the conversion of private workshops into national workshops. On the other
hand, the government will need capital with which to pay its workmen; now,
how will this capital be obtained? By taxation. And upon what will the tax
be levied? Upon property. Then you will have proprietary industry
sustaining against itself, and at its own expense, another industry with
which it cannot compete. What, think you, will become, in this fatal
circle, of the possibility of profit,—in a word, of property?

Thank Heaven! equality of conditions is taught in the public schools; let
us fear revolutions no longer. The most implacable enemy of property could
not, if he wished to destroy it, go to work in a wiser and more effective
way. Courage, then, ministers, deputies, economists! make haste to seize
this glorious initiative; let the watchwords of equality, uttered from the
heights of science and power, be repeated in the midst of the people; let
them thrill the breasts of the proletaires, and carry dismay into the
ranks of the last representatives of privilege!

The tendency of society in favor of compelling proprietors to support
national workshops and public manufactories is so strong that for several
years, under the name of ELECTORAL REFORM, it has been exclusively the
question of the day. What is, after all, this electoral reform which the
people grasp at, as if it were a bait, and which so many ambitious persons
either call for or denounce? It is the acknowledgment of the right of the
masses to a voice in the assessment of taxes, and the making of the laws;
which laws, aiming always at the protection of material interests, affect,
in a greater or less degree, all questions of taxation or wages. Now the
people, instructed long since by their journals, their dramas, 41
and their songs, 42 know to-day that taxation, to be
equitably divided, must be graduated, and must be borne mainly by the
rich,—that it must be levied upon luxuries, &c. And be sure that
the people, once in the majority in the Chamber, will not fail to apply
these lessons. Already we have a minister of public works. National
workshops will follow; and soon, as a consequence, the excess of the
proprietor’s revenue over the workingman’s wages will be swallowed up in
the coffers of the laborers of the State. Do you not see that in this way
property is gradually reduced, as nobility was formerly, to a nominal
title, to a distinction purely honorary in its nature?

Either the electoral reform will fail to accomplish that which is hoped
from it, and will disappoint its innumerable partisans, or else it will
inevitably result in a transformation of the absolute right under which we
live into a right of possession; that is, that while, at present, property
makes the elector, after this reform is accomplished, the citizen, the
producer will be the possessor. 43
Consequently, the radicals are right in saying that the electoral reform
is in their eyes only a means; but, when they are silent as to the end,
they show either profound ignorance, or useless dissimulation. There
should be no secrets or reservations from peoples and powers. He disgraces
himself and fails in respect for his fellows, who, in publishing his
opinions, employs evasion and cunning. Before the people act, they need to
know the whole truth. Unhappy he who shall dare to trifle with them! For
the people are credulous, but they are strong. Let us tell them, then,
that this reform which is proposed is only a means,—a means often
tried, and hitherto without effect,—but that the logical object of
the electoral reform is equality of fortunes; and that this equality
itself is only a new means having in view the superior and definitive
object of the salvation of society, the restoration of morals and
religion, and the revival of poetry and art.

This assertion of M. Rossi is not borne out by history. Property is the
cause of the electoral right, not as a PRESUMPTION OF CAPACITY,—an
idea which never prevailed until lately, and which is extremely absurd,—but
as a GUARANTEE OF DEVOTION TO THE ESTABLISHED ORDER. The electoral body is
a league of those interested in the maintenance of property, against those
not interested. There are thousands of documents, even official documents,
to prove this, if necessary. For the rest, the present system is only a
continuation of the municipal system, which, in the middle ages, sprang up
in connection with feudalism,—an oppressive, mischief-making system,
full of petty passions and base intrigues.

It would be an abuse of the reader’s patience to insist further upon the
tendency of our time towards equality. There are, moreover, so many people
who denounce the present age, that nothing is gained by exposing to their
view the popular, scientific, and representative tendencies of the nation.

Prompt to recognize the accuracy of the inferences drawn from observation,
they confine themselves to a general censure of the facts, and an absolute
denial of their legitimacy. “What wonder,” they say, “that this atmosphere
of equality intoxicates us, considering all that has been said and done
during the past ten years!… Do you not see that society is dissolving,
that a spirit of infatuation is carrying us away? All these hopes of
regeneration are but forebodings of death; your songs of triumph are like
the prayers of the departing, your trumpet peals announce the baptism of a
dying man. Civilization is falling in ruin: Imus, imus, praecipites!”

Such people deny God. I might content myself with the reply that the
spirit of 1830 was the result of the maintenance of the violated charter;
that this charter arose from the Revolution of ’89; that ’89 implies the
States-General’s right of remonstrance, and the enfranchisement of the
communes; that the communes suppose feudalism, which in its turn supposes
invasion, Roman law, Christianity, &c.

But it is necessary to look further. We must penetrate to the very heart
of ancient institutions, plunge into the social depths, and uncover this
indestructible leaven of equality which the God of justice breathed into
our souls, and which manifests itself in all our works.

Labor is man’s contemporary; it is a duty, since it is a condition of
existence: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.” It is more
than a duty, it is a mission: “God put the man into the garden to dress
it.” I add that labor is the cause and means of equality.

Cast away upon a desert island two men: one large, strong, and active; the
other weak, timid, and domestic. The latter will die of hunger; while the
other, a skilful hunter, an expert fisherman, and an indefatigable
husbandman, will overstock himself with provisions. What greater
inequality, in this state of Nature so dear to the heart of Jean Jacques,
could be imagined! But let these two men meet and associate themselves:
the second immediately attends to the cooking, takes charge of the
household affairs, and sees to the provisions, beds, and clothes; provided
the stronger does not abuse his superiority by enslaving and ill-treating
his companion, their social condition will be perfectly equal. Thus,
through exchange of services, the inequalities of Nature neutralize each
other, talents associate, and forces balance. Violence and inertia are
found only among the poor and the aristocratic. And in that lies the
philosophy of political economy, the mystery of human brotherhood. Hic
est sapientia. Let us pass from the hypothetical state of pure Nature
into civilization.

The proprietor of the soil, who produces, I will suppose with the
economists, by lending his instrument, receives at the foundation of a
society so many bushels of grain for each acre of arable land. As long as
labor is weak, and the variety of its products small, the proprietor is
powerful in comparison with the laborers; he has ten times, one hundred
times, the portion of an honest man. But let labor, by multiplying its
inventions, multiply its enjoyments and wants, and the proprietor, if he
wishes to enjoy the new products, will be obliged to reduce his income
every day; and since the first products tend rather to depreciate than to
rise in value,—in consequence of the continual addition of the new
ones, which may be regarded as supplements of the first ones,—it
follows that the idle proprietor grows poor as fast as public prosperity
increases. “Incomes” (I like to quote you, sir, because it is impossible
to give too good an authority for these elementary principles of economy,
and because I cannot express them better myself), “incomes,” you have
said, “tend to disappear as capital increases. He who possesses to-day an
income of twenty thousand pounds is not nearly as rich as he who possessed
the same amount fifty years ago. The time is coming when all property will
be a burden to the idle, and will necessarily pass into the hands of the
able and industrious. 44…”

In order to live as a proprietor, or to consume without producing, it is
necessary, then, to live upon the labor of another; in other words, it is
necessary to kill the laborer. It is upon this principle that proprietors
of those varieties of capital which are of primary necessity increase
their farm-rents as fast as industry develops, much more careful of their
privileges in that respect, than those economists who, in order to
strengthen property, advocate a reduction of interest. But the crime is
unavailing: labor and production increase; soon the proprietor will be
forced to labor, and then property is lost.

The proprietor is a man who, having absolute control of an instrument of
production, claims the right to enjoy the product of the instrument
without using it himself. To this end he lends it; and we have just seen
that from this loan the laborer derives a power of exchange, which sooner
or later will destroy the right of increase. In the first place, the
proprietor is obliged to allow the laborer a portion of the product, for
without it the laborer could not live. Soon the latter, through the
development of his industry, finds a means of regaining the greater
portion of that which he gives to the proprietor; so that at last, the
objects of enjoyment increasing continually, while the income of the idler
remains the same, the proprietor, having exhausted his resources, begins
to think of going to work himself. Then the victory of the producer is
certain. Labor commences to tip the balance towards its own side, and
commerce leads to equilibrium.

Man’s instinct cannot err; as, in liberty, exchange of functions leads
inevitably to equality among men, so commerce—or exchange of
products, which is identical with exchange of functions—is a new
cause of equality. As long as the proprietor does not labor, however small
his income, he enjoys a privilege; the laborer’s welfare may be equal to
his, but equality of conditions does not exist. But as soon as the
proprietor becomes a producer,—since he can exchange his special
product only with his tenant or his commandite,—sooner or
later this tenant, this exploited man, if violence is not done him,
will make a profit out of the proprietor, and will oblige him to restore—in
the exchange of their respective products—the interest on his
capital. So that, balancing one injustice by another, the contracting
parties will be equal. Labor and exchange, when liberty prevails, lead,
then, to equality of fortunes; mutuality of services neutralizes
privilege. That is why despots in all ages and countries have assumed
control of commerce; they wished to prevent the labor of their subjects
from becoming an obstacle to the rapacity of tyrants.

Up to this point, all takes place in the natural order; there is no
premeditation, no artifice. The whole proceeding is governed by the laws
of necessity alone. Proprietors and laborers act only in obedience to
their wants. Thus, the exercise of the right of increase, the art of
robbing the producer, depends—during this first period of
civilization—upon physical violence, murder, and war.

But at this point a gigantic and complicated conspiracy is hatched against
the capitalists. The weapon of the EXPLOITERS is met by the EXPLOITED with
the instrument of commerce,—a marvellous invention, denounced at its
origin by the moralists who favored property, but inspired without doubt
by the genius of labor, by the Minerva of the proletaires.

The principal cause of the evil lay in the accumulation and immobility of
capital of all sorts,—an immobility which prevented labor, enslaved
and subalternized by haughty idleness, from ever acquiring it. The
necessity was felt of dividing and mobilizing wealth, of rendering it
portable, of making it pass from the hands of the possessor into those of
the worker. Labor invented MONEY. Afterwards, this invention was revived
and developed by the BILL OF EXCHANGE and the BANK. For all these things
are substantially the same, and proceed from the same mind. The first man
who conceived the idea of representing a value by a shell, a precious
stone, or a certain weight of metal, was the real inventor of the Bank.
What is a piece of money, in fact? It is a bill of exchange written upon
solid and durable material, and carrying with it its own redemption. By
this means, oppressed equality was enabled to laugh at the efforts of the
proprietors, and the balance of justice was adjusted for the first time in
the tradesman’s shop. The trap was cunningly set, and accomplished its
purpose so thoroughly that in idle hands money became only dissolving
wealth, a false symbol, a shadow of riches. An excellent economist and
profound philosopher was that miser who took as his motto, “WHEN A GUINEA
IS EXCHANGED, IT EVAPORATES.” So it may be said, “When real estate is
converted into money, it is lost.” This explains the constant fact of
history, that the nobles—the unproductive proprietors of the soil—have
every where been dispossessed by industrial and commercial plebeians. Such
was especially the case in the formation of the Italian republics, born,
during the middle ages, of the impoverishment of the seigniors. I will not
pursue the interesting considerations which this matter suggests; I could
only repeat the testimony of historians, and present economical
demonstrations in an altered form.

The greatest enemy of the landed and industrial aristocracy to-day, the
incessant promoter of equality of fortunes, is the BANKER. Through him
immense plains are divided, mountains change their positions, forests are
grown upon the public squares, one hemisphere produces for another, and
every corner of the globe has its usufructuaries. By means of the Bank new
wealth is continually created, the use of which (soon becoming
indispensable to selfishness) wrests the dormant capital from the hands of
the jealous proprietor. The banker is at once the most potent creator of
wealth, and the main distributor of the products of art and Nature. And
yet, by the strangest antinomy, this same banker is the most relentless
collector of profits, increase, and usury ever inspired by the demon of
property. The importance of the services which he renders leads us to
endure, though not without complaint, the taxes which he imposes.
Nevertheless, since nothing can avoid its providential mission, since
nothing which exists can escape the end for which it exists the banker
(the modern Croesus) must some day become the restorer of equality. And
following in your footsteps, sir, I have already given the reason; namely,
that profit decreases as capital multiplies, since an increase of capital—calling
for more laborers, without whom it remains unproductive—always
causes an increase of wages. Whence it follows that the Bank, to-day the
suction-pump of wealth, is destined to become the steward of the human
race.

The phrase EQUALITY OF FORTUNES chafes people, as if it referred to a
condition of the other world, unknown here below. There are some persons,
radicals as well as moderates, whom the very mention of this idea fills
with indignation. Let, then, these silly aristocrats abolish mercantile
societies and insurance companies, which are founded by prudence for
mutual assistance. For all these social facts, so spontaneous and free
from all levelling intentions, are the legitimate fruits of the instinct
of equality.

When the legislator makes a law, properly speaking he does not MAKE it,—he
does not CREATE it: he DESCRIBES it. In legislating upon the moral, civil,
and political relations of citizens, he does not express an arbitrary
notion: he states the general idea,—the higher principle which
governs the matter which he is considering; in a word, he is the
proclaimer, not the inventor, of the law. So, when two or more men form
among themselves, by synallagmatic contract, an industrial or an insurance
association, they recognize that their interests, formerly isolated by a
false spirit of selfishness and independence, are firmly connected by
their inner natures, and by the mutuality of their relations. They do not
really bind themselves by an act of their private will: they swear to
conform henceforth to a previously existing social law hitherto
disregarded by them. And this is proved by the fact that these same men,
could they avoid association, would not associate. Before they can be
induced to unite their interests, they must acquire full knowledge of the
dangers of competition and isolation; hence the experience of evil is the
only thing which leads them into society.

Now I say that, to establish equality among men, it is only necessary to
generalize the principle upon which insurance, agricultural, and
commercial associations are based. I say that competition, isolation of
interests, monopoly, privilege, accumulation of capital, exclusive
enjoyment, subordination of functions, individual production, the right of
profit or increase, the exploitation of man by man, and, to sum up all
these species under one head, that PROPERTY is the principal cause of
misery and crime. And, for having arrived at this offensive and
anti-proprietary conclusion, I am an abhorred monster; radicals and
conservatives alike point me out as a fit subject for prosecution; the
academies shower their censures upon me; the most worthy people regard me
as mad; and those are excessively tolerant who content themselves with the
assertion that I am a fool. Oh, unhappy the writer who publishes the truth
otherwise than as a performance of a duty! If he has counted upon the
applause of the crowd; if he has supposed that avarice and self-interest
would forget themselves in admiration of him; if he has neglected to
encase himself within three thicknesses of brass,—he will fail, as
he ought, in his selfish undertaking. The unjust criticisms, the sad
disappointments, the despair of his mistaken ambition, will kill him.

But, if I am no longer permitted to express my own personal opinion
concerning this interesting question of social equilibrium, let me, at
least, make known the thought of my masters, and develop the doctrines
advocated in the name of the government.

It never has been my intention, sir, in spite of the vigorous censure
which you, in behalf of your academy, have pronounced upon the doctrine of
equality of fortunes, to contradict and cope with you. In listening to
you, I have felt my inferiority too keenly to permit me to enter upon such
a discussion. And then,—if it must be said,—however different
your language is from mine, we believe in the same principles; you share
all my opinions. I do not mean to insinuate thereby, sir, that you have
(to use the phraseology of the schools) an ESOTERIC and an EXOTERIC
doctrine,—that, secretly believing in equality, you defend property
only from motives of prudence and by command. I am not rash enough to
regard you as my colleague in my revolutionary projects; and I esteem you
too highly, moreover, to suspect you of dissimulation. I only mean that
the truths which methodical investigation and laborious metaphysical
speculation have painfully demonstrated to me, a profound acquaintance
with political economy and a long experience reveal to you. While I have
reached my belief in equality by long reflection, and almost in spite of
my desires, you hold yours, sir, with all the zeal of faith,—with
all the spontaneity of genius. That is why your course of lectures at the
Conservatory is a perpetual war upon property and inequality of fortunes;
that is why your most learned investigations, your most ingenious
analyses, and your innumerable observations always conclude in a formula
of progress and equality; that is why, finally, you are never more admired
and applauded than at those moments of inspiration when, borne upon the
wings of science, you ascend to those lofty truths which cause plebeian
hearts to beat with enthusiasm, and which chill with horror men whose
intentions are evil. How many times, from the place where I eagerly drank
in your eloquent words, have I inwardly thanked Heaven for exempting you
from the judgment passed by St. Paul upon the philosophers of his time,—”They
have known the truth, and have not made it known”! How many times have I
rejoiced at finding my own justification in each of your discourses! No,
no; I neither wish nor ask for any thing which you do not teach yourself.
I appeal to your numerous audience; let it belie me if, in commenting upon
you, I pervert your meaning.

A disciple of Say, what in your eyes is more anti-social than the
custom-houses; or, as you correctly call them, the barriers erected by
monopoly between nations? What is more annoying, more unjust, or more
absurd, than this prohibitory system which compels us to pay forty sous in
France for that which in England or Belgium would bring us but fifteen? It
is the custom-house, you once said, 45 which
arrests the development of civilization by preventing the specialization
of industries; it is the custom-house which enriches a hundred monopolists
by impoverishing millions of citizens; it is the custom-house which
produces famine in the midst of abundance, which makes labor sterile by
prohibiting exchange, and which stifles production in a mortal embrace. It
is the custom-house which renders nations jealous of, and hostile to, each
other; four-fifths of the wars of all ages were caused originally by the
custom-house. And then, at the highest pitch of your enthusiasm, you
shouted: “Yes, if to put an end to this hateful system, it should become
necessary for me to shed the last drop of my blood, I would joyfully
spring into the gap, asking only time enough to give thanks to God for
having judged me worthy of martyrdom!”

And, at that solemn moment, I said to myself: “Place in every department
of France such a professor as that, and the revolution is avoided.”

But, sir, by this magnificent theory of liberty of commerce you render
military glory impossible,—you leave nothing for diplomacy to do;
you even take away the desire for conquest, while abolishing profit
altogether. What matters it, indeed, who restores Constantinople,
Alexandria, and Saint Jean d’Acre, if the Syrians, Egyptians, and Turks
are free to choose their masters; free to exchange their products with
whom they please? Why should Europe get into such a turmoil over this
petty Sultan and his old Pasha, if it is only a question whether we or the
English shall civilize the Orient,—shall instruct Egypt and Syria in
the European arts, and shall teach them to construct machines, dig canals,
and build railroads? For, if to national independence free trade is added,
the foreign influence of these two countries is thereafter exerted only
through a voluntary relationship of producer to producer, or apprentice to
journeyman.

Alone among European powers, France cheerfully accepted the task of
civilizing the Orient, and began an invasion which was quite apostolic in
its character,—so joyful and high-minded do noble thoughts render
our nation! But diplomatic rivalry, national selfishness, English avarice,
and Russian ambition stood in her way. To consummate a long-meditated
usurpation, it was necessary to crush a too generous ally: the robbers of
the Holy Alliance formed a league against dauntless and blameless France.
Consequently, at the news of this famous treaty, there arose among us a
chorus of curses upon the principle of property, which at that time was
acting under the hypocritical formulas of the old political system. The
last hour of property seemed to have struck by the side of Syria; from the
Alps to the ocean, from the Rhine to the Pyrenees, the popular conscience
was aroused. All France sang songs of war, and the coalition turned pale
at the sound of these shuddering cries: “War upon the autocrat, who wishes
to be proprietor of the old world! War upon the English perjurer, the
devourer of India, the poisoner of China, the tyrant of Ireland, and the
eternal enemy of France! War upon the allies who have conspired against
liberty and equality! War! war! war upon property!”

By the counsel of Providence the emancipation of the nations is postponed.
France is to conquer, not by arms, but by example. Universal reason does
not yet understand this grand equation, which, commencing with the
abolition of slavery, and advancing over the ruins of aristocracies and
thrones, must end in equality of rights and fortunes; but the day is not
far off when the knowledge of this truth will be as common as that of
equality of origin. Already it seems to be understood that the Oriental
question is only a question of custom-houses. Is it, then, so difficult
for public opinion to generalize this idea, and to comprehend, finally,
that if the suppression of custom-houses involves the abolition of
national property, it involves also, as a consequence, the abolition of
individual property?

In fact, if we suppress the custom-houses, the alliance of the nations is
declared by that very act; their solidarity is recognized, and their
equality proclaimed. If we suppress the custom-houses, the principle of
association will not be slow in reaching from the State to the province,
from the province to the city, and from the city to the workshop. But,
then, what becomes of the privileges of authors and artists? Of what use
are the patents for invention, imagination, amelioration, and improvement?
When our deputies write a law of literary property by the side of a law
which opens a large breach in the custom-house they contradict themselves,
indeed, and pull down with one hand what they build up with the other.
Without the custom-house, literary property does not exist, and the hopes
of our starving authors are frustrated. For, certainly you do not expect,
with the good man Fourier, that literary property will exercise itself in
China to the profit of a French writer; and that an ode of Lamartine, sold
by privilege all over the world, will bring in millions to its author! The
poet’s work is peculiar to the climate in which he lives; every where else
the reproduction of his works, having no market value, should be frank and
free. But what! will it be necessary for nations to put themselves under
mutual surveillance for the sake of verses, statues, and elixirs? We shall
always have, then, an excise, a city-toll, rights of entrance and transit,
custom-houses finally; and then, as a reaction against privilege,
smuggling.

Smuggling! That word reminds me of one of the most horrible forms of
property. “Smuggling,” you have said, sir, 46 “is an
offence of political creation; it is the exercise of natural liberty,
defined as a crime in certain cases by the will of the sovereign. The
smuggler is a gallant man,—a man of spirit, who gaily busies himself
in procuring for his neighbor, at a very low price, a jewel, a shawl, or
any other object of necessity or luxury, which domestic monopoly renders
excessively dear.” Then, to a very poetical monograph of the smuggler, you
add this dismal conclusion,—that the smuggler belongs to the family
of Mandrin, and that the galleys should be his home!

But, sir, you have not called attention to the horrible exploitation which
is carried on in this way in the name of property.

It is said,—and I give this report only as an hypothesis and an
illustration, for I do not believe it,—it is said that the present
minister of finances owes his fortune to smuggling. M. Humann, of
Strasbourg, sent out of France, it is said, enormous quantities of sugar,
for which he received the bounty on exportation promised by the State;
then, smuggling this sugar back again, he exported it anew, receiving the
bounty on exportation a second time, and so on. Notice, sir, that I do not
state this as a fact; I give it only as it is told, not endorsing or even
believing it. My sole design is to fix the idea in the mind by an example.
If I believed that a minister had committed such a crime, that is, if I
had personal and authentic knowledge that he had, I would denounce M.
Humann, the minister of finances, to the Chamber of Deputies, and would
loudly demand his expulsion from the ministry.

But that which is undoubtedly false of M. Humann is true of many others,
as rich and no less honorable than he. Smuggling, organized on a large
scale by the eaters of human flesh, is carried on to the profit of a few
pashas at the risk and peril of their imprudent victims. The inactive
proprietor offers his merchandise for sale; the actual smuggler risks his
liberty, his honor, and his life. If success crowns the enterprise, the
courageous servant gets paid for his journey; the profit goes to the
coward. If fortune or treachery delivers the instrument of this execrable
traffic into the hands of the custom-house officer, the master-smuggler
suffers a loss which a more fortunate voyage will soon repair. The agent,
pronounced a scoundrel, is thrown into prison in company with robbers;
while his glorious patron, a juror, elector, deputy, or minister, makes
laws concerning expropriation, monopoly, and custom-houses!

I promised, at the beginning of this letter, that no attack on property
should escape my pen, my only object being to justify myself before the
public by a general recrimination. But I could not refrain from branding
so odious a mode of exploitation, and I trust that this short digression
will be pardoned. Property does not avenge, I hope, the injuries which
smuggling suffers.

The conspiracy against property is general; it is flagrant; it takes
possession of all minds, and inspires all our laws; it lies at the bottom
of all theories. Here the proletaire pursues property in the street, there
the legislator lays an interdict upon it; now, a professor of political
economy or of industrial legislation, 47 paid to
defend it, undermines it with redoubled blows; at another—time, an
academy calls it in question, 48 or inquires as to the progress
of its demolition. 49 To-day there is not an idea, not
an opinion, not a sect, which does not dream of muzzling property. None
confess it, because none are yet conscious of it; there are too few minds
capable of grasping spontaneously this ensemble of causes and effects, of
principles and consequences, by which I try to demonstrate the approaching
disappearance of property; on the other hand, the ideas that are generally
formed of this right are too divergent and too loosely determined to allow
an admission, so soon, of the contrary theory. Thus, in the middle and
lower ranks of literature and philosophy, no less than among the common
people, it is thought that, when property is abolished, no one will be
able to enjoy the fruit of his labor; that no one will have any thing
peculiar to himself, and that tyrannical communism will be established on
the ruins of family and liberty!—chimeras, which are to support for
a little while longer the cause of privilege.

But, before determining precisely the idea of property, before seeking
amid the contradictions of systems for the common element which must form
the basis of the new right, let us cast a rapid glance at the changes
which, at the various periods of history, property has undergone. The
political forms of nations are the expression of their beliefs. The
mobility of these forms, their modification and their destruction, are
solemn experiences which show us the value of ideas, and gradually
eliminate from the infinite variety of customs the absolute, eternal, and
immutable truth. Now, we shall see that every political institution tends,
necessarily, and on pain of death, to equalize conditions; that every
where and always equality of fortunes (like equality of rights) has been
the social aim, whether the plebeian classes have endeavored to rise to
political power by means of property, or whether—rulers already—they
have used political power to overthrow property. We shall see, in short,
by the progress of society, that the consummation of justice lies in the
extinction of individual domain.

For the sake of brevity, I will disregard the testimony of ecclesiastical
history and Christian theology: this subject deserves a separate treatise,
and I propose hereafter to return to it. Moses and Jesus Christ
proscribed, under the names of usury and inequality, 50 all sorts
of profit and increase. The church itself, in its purest teachings, has
always condemned property; and when I attacked, not only the authority of
the church, but also its infidelity to justice, I did it to the glory of
religion. I wanted to provoke a peremptory reply, and to pave the way for
Christianity’s triumph, in spite of the innumerable attacks of which it is
at present the object. I hoped that an apologist would arise forthwith,
and, taking his stand upon the Scriptures, the Fathers, the canons, and
the councils and constitutions of the Popes, would demonstrate that the
church always has maintained the doctrine of equality, and would attribute
to temporary necessity the contradictions of its discipline. Such a labor
would serve the cause of religion as well as that of equality. We must
know, sooner or later, whether Christianity is to be regenerated in the
church or out of it, and whether this church accepts the reproaches cast
upon it of hatred to liberty and antipathy to progress. Until then we will
suspend judgment, and content ourselves with placing before the clergy the
teachings of history.

When Lycurgus undertook to make laws for Sparta, in what condition did he
find this republic? On this point all historians agree. The people and the
nobles were at war. The city was in a confused state, and divided by two
parties,—the party of the poor, and the party of the rich. Hardly
escaped from the barbarism of the heroic ages, society was rapidly
declining. The proletariat made war upon property, which, in its turn,
oppressed the proletariat. What did Lycurgus do? His first measure was one
of general security, at the very idea of which our legislators would
tremble. He abolished all debts; then, employing by turns persuasion and
force, he induced the nobles to renounce their privileges, and
re-established equality.

Lycurgus, in a word, hunted property out of Lacedaemon, seeing no other
way to harmonize liberty, equality, and law. I certainly should not wish
France to follow the example of Sparta; but it is remarkable that the most
ancient of Greek legislators, thoroughly acquainted with the nature and
needs of the people, more capable than any one else of appreciating the
legitimacy of the obligations which he, in the exercise of his absolute
authority, cancelled; who had compared the legislative systems of his
time, and whose wisdom an oracle had proclaimed,—it is remarkable, I
say, that Lycurgus should have judged the right of property incompatible
with free institutions, and should have thought it his duty to preface his
legislation by a coup d’etat which destroyed all distinctions of fortune.

Lycurgus understood perfectly that the luxury, the love of enjoyments, and
the inequality of fortunes, which property engenders, are the bane of
society; unfortunately the means which he employed to preserve his
republic were suggested to him by false notions of political economy, and
by a superficial knowledge of the human heart. Accordingly, property,
which this legislator wrongly confounded with wealth, reentered the city
together with the swarm of evils which he was endeavoring to banish; and
this time Sparta was hopelessly corrupted.

“The introduction of wealth,” says M. Pastoret, “was one of the principal
causes of the misfortunes which they experienced. Against these, however,
the laws had taken extraordinary precautions, the best among which was the
inculcation of morals which tended to suppress desire.”

The best of all precautions would have been the anticipation of desire by
satisfaction. Possession is the sovereign remedy for cupidity, a remedy
which would have been the less perilous to Sparta because fortunes there
were almost equal, and conditions were nearly alike. As a general thing,
fasting and abstinence are bad teachers of moderation.

“There was a law,” says M. Pastoret again, “to prohibit the rich from
wearing better clothing than the poor, from eating more delicate food, and
from owning elegant furniture, vases, carpets, fine houses,” &c.
Lycurgus hoped, then, to maintain equality by rendering wealth useless.
How much wiser he would have been if, in accordance with his military
discipline, he had organized industry and taught the people to procure by
their own labor the things which he tried in vain to deprive them of. In
that case, enjoying happy thoughts and pleasant feelings, the citizen
would have known no other desire than that with which the legislator
endeavored to inspire him,—love of honor and glory, the triumphs of
talent and virtue.

“Gold and all kinds of ornaments were forbidden the women.” Absurd. After
the death of Lycurgus, his institutions became corrupted; and four
centuries before the Christian era not a vestige remained of the former
simplicity. Luxury and the thirst for gold were early developed among the
Spartans in a degree as intense as might have been expected from their
enforced poverty and their inexperience in the arts. Historians have
accused Pausanias, Lysander, Agesilaus, and others of having corrupted the
morals of their country by the introduction of wealth obtained in war. It
is a slander. The morals of the Spartans necessarily grew corrupt as soon
as the Lacedaemonian poverty came in contact with Persian luxury and
Athenian elegance. Lycurgus, then, made a fatal mistake in attempting to
inspire generosity and modesty by enforcing vain and proud simplicity.

“Lycurgus was not frightened at idleness! A Lacedemonian, happening to be
in Athens (where idleness was forbidden) during the punishment of a
citizen who had been found guilty, asked to see the Athenian thus
condemned for having exercised the rights of a free man…. It was one of
the principles of Lycurguss, acted upon for several centuries, that free
men should not follow lucrative professions…. The women disdained
domestic labor; they did not spin their wool themselves, as did the other
Greeks [they did not, then, read Homer!]; they left their slaves to make
their clothing for them.”—Pastoret: History of Legislation.

Could any thing be more contradictory? Lycurgus proscribed property among
the citizens, and founded the means of subsistence on the worst form of
property,—on property obtained by force. What wonder, after that,
that a lazy city, where no industry was carried on, became a den of
avarice? The Spartans succumbed the more easily to the allurements of
luxury and Asiatic voluptuousness, being placed entirely at their mercy by
their own coarseness. The same thing happened to the Romans, when military
success took them out of Italy,—a thing which the author of the
prosopopoeia of Fabricius could not explain. It is not the cultivation of
the arts which corrupts morals, but their degradation, induced by inactive
and luxurious opulence. The instinct of property is to make the industry
of Daedalus, as well as the talent of Phidias, subservient to its own
fantastic whims and disgraceful pleasures. Property, not wealth, ruined
the Spartans.

When Solon appeared, the anarchy caused by property was at its height in
the Athenian republic. “The inhabitants of Attica were divided among
themselves as to the form of government. Those who lived on the mountains
(the poor) preferred the popular form; those of the plain (the middle
class), the oligarchs; those by the sea coast, a mixture of oligarchy and
democracy. Other dissensions were arising from the inequality of fortunes.
The mutual antagonism of the rich and poor had become so violent, that the
one-man power seemed the only safe-guard against the revolution with which
the republic was threatened.” (Pastoret: History of Legislation.)

Quarrels between the rich and the poor, which seldom occur in monarchies,
because a well established power suppresses dissensions, seem to be the
life of popular governments. Aristotle had noticed this. The oppression of
wealth submitted to agrarian laws, or to excessive taxation; the hatred of
the lower classes for the upper class, which is exposed always to
libellous charges made in hopes of confiscation,—these were the
features of the Athenian government which were especially revolting to
Aristotle, and which caused him to favor a limited monarchy. Aristotle, if
he had lived in our day, would have supported the constitutional
government. But, with all deference to the Stagirite, a government which
sacrifices the life of the proletaire to that of the proprietor is quite
as irrational as one which supports the former by robbing the latter;
neither of them deserve the support of a free man, much less of a
philosopher.

Solon followed the example of Lycurgus. He celebrated his legislative
inauguration by the abolition of debts,—that is, by bankruptcy. In
other words, Solon wound up the governmental machine for a longer or
shorter time depending upon the rate of interest. Consequently, when the
spring relaxed and the chain became unwound, the republic had either to
perish, or to recover itself by a second bankruptcy. This singular policy
was pursued by all the ancients. After the captivity of Babylon, Nehemiah,
the chief of the Jewish nation, abolished debts; Lycurgus abolished debts;
Solon abolished debts; the Roman people, after the expulsion of the kings
until the accession of the Caesars, struggled with the Senate for the
abolition of debts. Afterwards, towards the end of the republic, and long
after the establishment of the empire, agriculture being abandoned, and
the provinces becoming depopulated in consequence of the excessive rates
of interest, the emperors freely granted the lands to whoever would
cultivate them,—that is, they abolished debts. No one, except
Lycurgus, who went to the other extreme, ever perceived that the great
point was, not to release debtors by a coup d’etat, but to prevent the
contraction of debts in future.

On the contrary, the most democratic governments were always exclusively
based upon individual property; so that the social element of all these
republics was war between the citizens.

Solon decreed that a census should be taken of all fortunes, regulated
political rights by the result, granted to the larger proprietors more
influence, established the balance of powers,—in a word, inserted in
the constitution the most active leaven of discord; as if, instead of a
legislator chosen by the people, he had been their greatest enemy. Is it
not, indeed, the height of imprudence to grant equality of political
rights to men of unequal conditions? If a manufacturer, uniting all his
workmen in a joint-stock company, should give to each of them a
consultative and deliberative voice,—that is, should make all of
them masters,—would this equality of mastership secure continued
inequality of wages? That is the whole political system of Solon, reduced
to its simplest expression.

“In giving property a just preponderance,” says M. Pastoret, “Solon
repaired, as far as he was able, his first official act,—the
abolition of debts…. He thought he owed it to public peace to make this
great sacrifice of acquired rights and natural equity. But the violation
of individual property and written contracts is a bad preface to a public
code.”

In fact, such violations are always cruelly punished. In ’89 and ’93, the
possessions of the nobility and the clergy were confiscated, the clever
proletaires were enriched; and to-day the latter, having become
aristocrats, are making us pay dearly for our fathers’ robbery. What,
therefore, is to be done now? It is not for us to violate right, but to
restore it. Now, it would be a violation of justice to dispossess some and
endow others, and then stop there. We must gradually lower the rate of
interest, organize industry, associate laborers and their functions, and
take a census of the large fortunes, not for the purpose of granting
privileges, but that we may effect their redemption by settling a
life-annuity upon their proprietors. We must apply on a large scale the
principle of collective production, give the State eminent domain over all
capital! make each producer responsible, abolish the custom-house, and
transform every profession and trade into a public function. Thereby large
fortunes will vanish without confiscation or violence; individual
possession will establish itself, without communism, under the inspection
of the republic; and equality of conditions will no longer depend simply
on the will of citizens.

Of the authors who have written upon the Romans, Bossuet and Montesquieu
occupy prominent positions in the first rank; the first being generally
regarded as the father of the philosophy of history, and the second as the
most profound writer upon law and politics. Nevertheless, it could be
shown that these two great writers, each of them imbued with the
prejudices of their century and their cloth, have left the question of the
causes of the rise and fall of the Romans precisely where they found it.

Bossuet is admirable as long as he confines himself to description:
witness, among other passages, the picture which he has given us of Greece
before the Persian War, and which seems to have inspired “Telemachus;” the
parallel between Athens and Sparta, drawn twenty times since Bossuet; the
description of the character and morals of the ancient Romans; and,
finally, the sublime peroration which ends the “Discourse on Universal
History.” But when the famous historian deals with causes, his philosophy
is at fault.

“The tribunes always favored the division of captured lands, or the
proceeds of their sale, among the citizens. The Senate steadfastly opposed
those laws which were damaging to the State, and wanted the price of lands
to be awarded to the public treasury.”

Thus, according to Bossuet, the first and greatest wrong of civil wars was
inflicted upon the people, who, dying of hunger, demanded that the lands,
which they had shed their blood to conquer, should be given to them for
cultivation. The patricians, who bought them to deliver to their slaves,
had more regard for justice and the public interests. How little affects
the opinions of men! If the roles of Cicero and the Gracchi had been
inverted, Bossuet, whose sympathies were aroused by the eloquence of the
great orator more than by the clamors of the tribunes, would have viewed
the agrarian laws in quite a different light. He then would have
understood that the interest of the treasury was only a pretext; that,
when the captured lands were put up at auction, the patricians hastened to
buy them, in order to profit by the revenues from them,—certain,
moreover, that the price paid would come back to them sooner or later, in
exchange either for supplies furnished by them to the republic, or for the
subsistence of the multitude, who could buy only of them, and whose
services at one time, and poverty at another, were rewarded by the State.
For a State does not hoard; on the contrary, the public funds always
return to the people. If, then, a certain number of men are the sole
dealers in articles of primary necessity, it follows that the public
treasury, in passing and repassing through their hands, deposits and
accumulates real property there.

When Menenius related to the people his fable of the limbs and the
stomach, if any one had remarked to this story-teller that the stomach
freely gives to the limbs the nourishment which it freely receives, but
that the patricians gave to the plebeians only for cash, and lent to them
only at usury, he undoubtedly would have silenced the wily senator, and
saved the people from a great imposition. The Conscript Fathers were
fathers only of their own line. As for the common people, they were
regarded as an impure race, exploitable, taxable, and workable at the
discretion and mercy of their masters.

As a general thing, Bossuet shows little regard for the people. His
monarchical and theological instincts know nothing but authority,
obedience, and alms-giving, under the name of charity.

This unfortunate disposition constantly leads him to mistake symptoms for
causes; and his depth, which is so much admired, is borrowed from his
authors, and amounts to very little, after all.

When he says, for instance, that “the dissensions in the republic, and
finally its fall, were caused by the jealousies of its citizens, and their
love of liberty carried to an extreme and intolerable extent,” are we not
tempted to ask him what caused those JEALOUSIES?—what inspired the
people with that LOVE OF LIBERTY, EXTREME AND INTOLERABLE? It would be
useless to reply, The corruption of morals; the disregard for the ancient
poverty; the debaucheries, luxury, and class jealousies; the seditious
character of the Gracchi, &c. Why did the morals become corrupt, and
whence arose those eternal dissensions between the patricians and the
plebeians?

In Rome, as in all other places, the dissension between the rich and the
poor was not caused directly by the desire for wealth (people, as a
general thing, do not covet that which they deem it illegitimate to
acquire), but by a natural instinct of the plebeians, which led them to
seek the cause of their adversity in the constitution of the republic. So
we are doing to-day; instead of altering our public economy, we demand an
electoral reform. The Roman people wished to return to the social compact;
they asked for reforms, and demanded a revision of the laws, and a
creation of new magistracies. The patricians, who had nothing to complain
of, opposed every innovation. Wealth always has been conservative.
Nevertheless, the people overcame the resistance of the Senate; the
electoral right was greatly extended; the privileges of the plebeians were
increased,—they had their representatives, their tribunes, and their
consuls; but, notwithstanding these reforms, the republic could not be
saved. When all political expedients had been exhausted, when civil war
had depleted the population, when the Caesars had thrown their bloody
mantle over the cancer which was consuming the empire,—inasmuch as
accumulated property always was respected, and since the fire never
stopped, the nation had to perish in the flames. The imperial power was a
compromise which protected the property of the rich, and nourished the
proletaires with wheat from Africa and Sicily: a double error, which
destroyed the aristocrats by plethora and the commoners by famine. At last
there was but one real proprietor left,—the emperor,—whose
dependent, flatterer, parasite, or slave, each citizen became; and when
this proprietor was ruined, those who gathered the crumbs from under his
table, and laughed when he cracked his jokes, perished also.

Montesquieu succeeded no better than Bossuet in fathoming the causes of
the Roman decline; indeed, it may be said that the president has only
developed the ideas of the bishop. If the Romans had been more moderate in
their conquests, more just to their allies, more humane to the vanquished;
if the nobles had been less covetous, the emperors less lawless, the
people less violent, and all classes less corrupt; if… &c.,—perhaps
the dignity of the empire might have been preserved, and Rome might have
retained the sceptre of the world! That is all that can be gathered from
the teachings of Montesquieu. But the truth of history does not lie there;
the destinies of the world are not dependent upon such trivial causes. The
passions of men, like the contingencies of time and the varieties of
climate, serve to maintain the forces which move humanity and produce all
historical changes; but they do not explain them. The grain of sand of
which Pascal speaks would have caused the death of one man only, had not
prior action ordered the events of which this death was the precursor.

Montesquieu has read extensively; he knows Roman history thoroughly, is
perfectly well acquainted with the people of whom he speaks, and sees very
clearly why they were able to conquer their rivals and govern the world.
While reading him we admire the Romans, but we do not like them; we
witness their triumphs without pleasure, and we watch their fall without
sorrow. Montesquieu’s work, like the works of all French writers, is
skilfully composed,—spirited, witty, and filled with wise
observations. He pleases, interests, instructs, but leads to little
reflection; he does not conquer by depth of thought; he does not exalt the
mind by elevated reason or earnest feeling. In vain should we search his
writings for knowledge of antiquity, the character of primitive society,
or a description of the heroic ages, whose morals and prejudices lived
until the last days of the republic. Vico, painting the Romans with their
horrible traits, represents them as excusable, because he shows that all
their conduct was governed by preexisting ideas and customs, and that they
were informed, so to speak, by a superior genius of which they were
unconscious; in Montesquieu, the Roman atrocity revolts, but is not
explained. Therefore, as a writer, Montesquieu brings greater credit upon
French literature; as a philosopher, Vico bears away the palm.

Originally, property in Rome was national, not private. Numa was the first
to establish individual property by distributing the lands captured by
Romulus. What was the dividend of this distribution effected by Numa? What
conditions were imposed upon individuals, what powers reserved to the
State? None whatever. Inequality of fortunes, absolute abdication by the
republic of its right of eminent domain over the property of citizens,—such
were the first results of the division of Numa, who justly may be regarded
as the originator of Roman revolutions. He it was who instituted the
worship of the god Terminus,—the guardian of private possession, and
one of the most ancient gods of Italy. It was Numa who placed property
under the protection of Jupiter; who, in imitation of the Etrurians,
wished to make priests of the land-surveyors; who invented a liturgy for
cadastral operations, and ceremonies of consecration for the marking of
boundaries,—who, in short, made a religion of property. 51
All these fancies would have been more beneficial than dangerous, if the
holy king had not forgotten one essential thing; namely, to fix the amount
that each citizen could possess, and on what conditions he could possess
it. For, since it is the essence of property to continually increase by
accession and profit, and since the lender will take advantage of every
opportunity to apply this principle inherent in property, it follows that
properties tend, by means of their natural energy and the religious
respect which protects them, to absorb each other, and fortunes to
increase or diminish to an indefinite extent,—a process which
necessarily results in the ruin of the people, and the fall of the
republic. Roman history is but the development of this law.

Scarcely had the Tarquins been banished from Rome and the monarchy
abolished, when quarrels commenced between the orders. In the year 494
B.C., the secession of the commonalty to the Mons Sacer led to the
establishment of the tribunate. Of what did the plebeians complain? That
they were poor, exhausted by the interest which they paid to the
proprietors,—foeneratoribus; that the republic, administered
for the benefit of the nobles, did nothing for the people; that, delivered
over to the mercy of their creditors, who could sell them and their
children, and having neither hearth nor home, they were refused the means
of subsistence, while the rate of interest was kept at its highest point,
&c. For five centuries, the sole policy of the Senate was to evade
these just complaints; and, notwithstanding the energy of the tribunes,
notwithstanding the eloquence of the Gracchi, the violence of Marius, and
the triumph of Caesar, this execrable policy succeeded only too well. The
Senate always temporized; the measures proposed by the tribunes might be
good, but they were inopportune. It admitted that something should be
done; but first it was necessary that the people should resume the
performance of their duties, because the Senate could not yield to
violence, and force must be employed only by the law. If the people—out
of respect for legality—took this beautiful advice, the Senate
conjured up a difficulty; the reform was postponed, and that was the end
of it. On the contrary, if the demands of the proletaires became too
pressing, it declared a foreign war, and neighboring nations were deprived
of their liberty, to maintain the Roman aristocracy.

But the toils of war were only a halt for the plebeians in their onward
march towards pauperism. The lands confiscated from the conquered nations
were immediately added to the domain of the State, to the ager publicus;
and, as such, cultivated for the benefit of the treasury; or, as was more
often the case, they were sold at auction. None of them were granted to
the proletaires, who, unlike the patricians and knights, were not supplied
by the victory with the means of buying them. War never enriched the
soldier; the extensive plundering has been done always by the generals.
The vans of Augereau, and of twenty others, are famous in our armies; but
no one ever heard of a private getting rich. Nothing was more common in
Rome than charges of peculation, extortion, embezzlement, and brigandage,
carried on in the provinces at the head of armies, and in other public
capacities. All these charges were quieted by intrigue, bribery of the
judges, or desistance of the accuser. The culprit was allowed always in
the end to enjoy his spoils in peace; his son was only the more respected
on account of his father’s crimes. And, in fact, it could not be
otherwise. What would become of us, if every deputy, peer, or public
functionary should be called upon to show his title to his fortune!

“The patricians arrogated the exclusive enjoyment of the ager publicus;
and, like the feudal seigniors, granted some portions of their lands to
their dependants,—a wholly precarious concession, revocable at the
will of the grantor. The plebeians, on the contrary, were entitled to the
enjoyment of only a little pasture-land left to them in common: an utterly
unjust state of things, since, in consequence of it, taxation—census—weighed
more heavily upon the poor than upon the rich. The patrician, in fact,
always exempted himself from the tithe which he owed as the price and as
the acknowledgment of the concession of domain; and, on the other hand,
paid no taxes on his POSSESSIONS, if, as there is good reason to believe,
only citizens’ property was taxed.”—Laboulaye: History of Property.

In order thoroughly to understand the preceding quotation, we must know
that the estates of CITIZENS—that is, estates independent of the
public domain, whether they were obtained in the division of Numa, or had
since been sold by the questors—were alone regarded as PROPERTY;
upon these a tax, or cense, was imposed. On the contrary, the
estates obtained by concessions of the public domain, of the ager publicus
(for which a light rent was paid), were called POSSESSIONS. Thus, among
the Romans, there was a RIGHT OF PROPERTY and a RIGHT OF POSSESSION
regulating the administration of all estates. Now, what did the
proletaires wish? That the jus possessionis—the simple right of
possession—should be extended to them at the expense, as is evident,
not of private property, but of the public domain,—agri publici. The
proletaires, in short, demanded that they should be tenants of the land
which they had conquered. This demand, the patricians in their avarice
never would accede to. Buying as much of this land as they could, they
afterwards found means of obtaining the rest as POSSESSIONS. Upon this
land they employed their slaves. The people, who could not buy, on account
of the competition of the rich, nor hire, because—cultivating with
their own hands—they could not promise a rent equal to the revenue
which the land would yield when cultivated by slaves, were always deprived
of possession and property.

Civil wars relieved, to some extent, the sufferings of the multitude. “The
people enrolled themselves under the banners of the ambitious, in order to
obtain by force that which the law refused them,—property. A colony
was the reward of a victorious legion. But it was no longer the ager
publicus only; it was all Italy that lay at the mercy of the legions. The
ager publicus disappeared almost entirely,… but the cause of the evil—accumulated
property—became more potent than ever.” (Laboulaye: History of
Property.)

The author whom I quote does not tell us why this division of territory
which followed civil wars did not arrest the encroachments of accumulated
property; the omission is easily supplied. Land is not the only requisite
for cultivation; a working-stock is also necessary,—animals, tools,
harnesses, a house, an advance, &c. Where did the colonists,
discharged by the dictator who rewarded them, obtain these things? From
the purse of the usurers; that is, of the patricians, to whom all these
lands finally returned, in consequence of the rapid increase of usury, and
the seizure of estates. Sallust, in his account of the conspiracy of
Catiline, tells us of this fact. The conspirators were old soldiers of
Sylla, who, as a reward for their services, had received from him lands in
Cisalpine Gaul, Tuscany, and other parts of the peninsula Less than twenty
years had elapsed since these colonists, free of debt, had left the
service and commenced farming; and already they were crippled by usury,
and almost ruined. The poverty caused by the exactions of creditors was
the life of this conspiracy which well-nigh inflamed all Italy, and which,
with a worthier chief and fairer means, possibly would have succeeded. In
Rome, the mass of the people were favorable to the conspirators—cuncta
plebes Catilinae incepta probabat; the allies were weary of the
patricians’ robberies; deputies from the Allobroges (the Savoyards) had
come to Rome to appeal to the Senate in behalf of their fellow-citizens
involved in debt; in short, the complaint against the large proprietors
was universal. “We call men and gods to witness,” said the soldiers of
Catiline, who were Roman citizens with not a slave among them, “that we
have taken arms neither against the country, nor to attack any one, but in
defence of our lives and liberties. Wretched, poor, most of us deprived of
country, all of us of fame and fortune, by the violence and cruelty of
usurers, we have no rights, no property, no liberty.” 52

The bad reputation of Catiline, and his atrocious designs, the imprudence
of his accomplices, the treason of several, the strategy of Cicero, the
angry outbursts of Cato, and the terror of the Senate, baffled this
enterprise, which, in furnishing a precedent for expeditions against the
rich, would perhaps have saved the republic, and given peace to the world.
But Rome could not evade her destiny; the end of her expiations had not
come. A nation never was known to anticipate its punishment by a sudden
and unexpected conversion. Now, the long-continued crimes of the Eternal
City could not be atoned for by the massacre of a few hundred patricians.
Catiline came to stay divine vengeance; therefore his conspiracy failed.

The encroachment of large proprietors upon small proprietors, by the aid
of usury, farm-rent, and profits of all sorts, was common throughout the
empire. The most honest citizens invested their money at high rates of
interest. 53
Cato, Cicero, Brutus, all the stoics so noted for their frugality, viri
frugi,—Seneca, the teacher of virtue,—levied enormous
taxes in the provinces, under the name of usury; and it is something
remarkable, that the last defenders of the republic, the proud Pompeys,
were all usurious aristocrats, and oppressors of the poor. But the battle
of Pharsalus, having killed men only, without touching institutions, the
encroachments of the large domains became every day more active. Ever
since the birth of Christianity, the Fathers have opposed this invasion
with all their might. Their writings are filled with burning curses upon
this crime of usury, of which Christians are not always innocent.

St. Cyprian complains of certain bishops of his time, who, absorbed in
disgraceful stock-jobbing operations, abandoned their churches, and went
about the provinces appropriating lands by artifice and fraud, while
lending money and piling up interests upon interests. 54
Why, in the midst of this passion for accumulation, did not the possession
of the public land, like private property, become concentrated in a few
hands?

By law, the domain of the State was inalienable, and consequently
possession was always revocable; but the edict of the praetor continued it
indefinitely, so that finally the possessions of the patricians were
transformed into absolute property, though the name, possessions, was
still applied to them. This conversion, instigated by senatorial avarice;
owed its accomplishment to the most deplorable and indiscreet policy. If,
in the time of Tiberius Gracchus, who wished to limit each citizen’s
possession of the ager publicus to five hundred acres, the amount of this
possession had been fixed at as much as one family could cultivate, and
granted on the express condition that the possessor should cultivate it
himself, and should lease it to no one, the empire never would have been
desolated by large estates; and possession, instead of increasing
property, would have absorbed it. On what, then, depended the
establishment and maintenance of equality in conditions and fortunes? On a
more equitable division of the ager publicus, a wiser distribution of the
right of possession.

I insist upon this point, which is of the utmost importance, because it
gives us an opportunity to examine the history of this individual
possession, of which I said so much in my first memoir, and which so few
of my readers seem to have understood. The Roman republic—having, as
it did, the power to dispose absolutely of its territory, and to impose
conditions upon possessors—was nearer to liberty and equality than
any nation has been since. If the Senate had been intelligent and just,—if,
at the time of the retreat to the Mons Sacer, instead of the ridiculous
farce enacted by Menenius Agrippa, a solemn renunciation of the right to
acquire had been made by each citizen on attaining his share of
possessions,—the republic, based upon equality of possessions and
the duty of labor, would not, in attaining its wealth, have degenerated in
morals; Fabricius would have enjoyed the arts without controlling artists;
and the conquests of the ancient Romans would have been the means of
spreading civilization, instead of the series of murders and robberies
that they were.

But property, having unlimited power to amass and to lease, was daily
increased by the addition of new possessions. From the time of Nero, six
individuals were the sole proprietors of one-half of Roman Africa. In the
fifth century, the wealthy families had incomes of no less than two
millions: some possessed as many as twenty thousand slaves. All the
authors who have written upon the causes of the fall of the Roman republic
concur.

M. Giraud of Aix 55 quotes the testimony of Cicero,
Seneca, Plutarch, Olympiodorus, and Photius. Under Vespasian and Titus,
Pliny, the naturalist, exclaimed: “Large estates have ruined Italy, and
are ruining the provinces.”

But it never has been understood that the extension of property was
effected then, as it is to-day, under the aegis of the law, and by virtue
of the constitution. When the Senate sold captured lands at auction, it
was in the interest of the treasury and of public welfare. When the
patricians bought up possessions and property, they realized the purpose
of the Senate’s decrees; when they lent at high rates of interest, they
took advantage of a legal privilege. “Property,” said the lender, “is the
right to enjoy even to the extent of abuse, jus utendi et abutendi;
that is, the right to lend at interest,—to lease, to acquire, and
then to lease and lend again.” But property is also the right to exchange,
to transfer, and to sell. If, then, the social condition is such that the
proprietor, ruined by usury, may be compelled to sell his possession, the
means of his subsistence, he will sell it; and, thanks to the law,
accumulated property—devouring and anthropophagous property—will
be established.56

The immediate and secondary cause of the decline of the Romans was, then,
the internal dissensions between the two orders of the republic,—the
patricians and the plebeians,—dissensions which gave rise to civil
wars, proscriptions, and loss of liberty, and finally led to the empire;
but the primary and mediate cause of their decline was the establishment
by Numa of the institution of property.

I end with an extract from a work which I have quoted several times
already, and which has recently received a prize from the Academy of Moral
and Political Sciences:—

“The concentration of property,” says M. Laboulaye, “while causing extreme
poverty, forced the emperors to feed and amuse the people, that they might
forget their misery. Panem et circenses: that was the Roman law in
regard to the poor; a dire and perhaps a necessary evil wherever a landed
aristocracy exists.

“To feed these hungry mouths, grain was brought from Africa and the
provinces, and distributed gratuitously among the needy. In the time of
Caesar, three hundred and twenty thousand people were thus fed. Augustus
saw that such a measure led directly to the destruction of husbandry; but
to abolish these distributions was to put a weapon within the reach of the
first aspirant for power.

“The emperor shrank at the thought.

“While grain was gratuitous, agriculture was impossible. Tillage gave way
to pasturage, another cause of depopulation, even among slaves.

“Finally, luxury, carried further and further every day, covered the soil
of Italy with elegant villas, which occupied whole cantons. Gardens and
groves replaced the fields, and the free population fled to the towns.
Husbandry disappeared almost entirely, and with husbandry the husbandman.
Africa furnished the wheat, and Greece the wine. Tiberius complained
bitterly of this evil, which placed the lives of the Roman people at the
mercy of the winds and waves: that was his anxiety. One day later, and
three hundred thousand starving men walked the streets of Rome: that was a
revolution.

“This decline of Italy and the provinces did not stop. After the reign of
Nero, depopulation commenced in towns as noted as Antium and Tarentum.
Under the reign of Pertinax, there was so much desert land that the
emperor abandoned it, even that which belonged to the treasury, to whoever
would cultivate it, besides exempting the farmers from taxation for a
period of ten years. Senators were compelled to invest one-third of their
fortunes in real estate in Italy; but this measure served only to increase
the evil which they wished to cure. To force the rich to possess in Italy
was to increase the large estates which had ruined the country. And must I
say, finally, that Aurelian wished to send the captives into the desert
lands of Etruria, and that Valentinian was forced to settle the Alamanni
on the fertile banks of the Po?”

If the reader, in running through this book, should complain of meeting
with nothing but quotations from other works, extracts from journals and
public lectures, comments upon laws, and interpretations of them, I would
remind him that the very object of this memoir is to establish the
conformity of my opinion concerning property with that universally held;
that, far from aiming at a paradox, it has been my main study to follow
the advice of the world; and, finally, that my sole pretension is to
clearly formulate the general belief. I cannot repeat it too often,—and
I confess it with pride,—I teach absolutely nothing that is new; and
I should regard the doctrine which I advocate as radically erroneous, if a
single witness should testify against it.

Let us now trace the revolutions in property among the Barbarians.

As long as the German tribes dwelt in their forests, it did not occur to
them to divide and appropriate the soil. The land was held in common: each
individual could plow, sow, and reap. But, when the empire was once
invaded, they bethought themselves of sharing the land, just as they
shared spoils after a victory. “Hence,” says M. Laboulaye, “the
expressions sortes Burgundiorum Gothorum and {GREEK, ‘ k }; hence
the German words allod, allodium, and loos, lot, which are
used in all modern languages to designate the gifts of chance.”

Allodial property, at least with the mass of coparceners, was originally
held, then, in equal shares; for all of the prizes were equal, or, at
least, equivalent. This property, like that of the Romans, was wholly
individual, independent, exclusive, transferable, and consequently
susceptible of accumulation and invasion. But, instead of its being, as
was the case among the Romans, the large estate which, through increase
and usury, subordinated and absorbed the small one, among the Barbarians—fonder
of war than of wealth, more eager to dispose of persons than to
appropriate things—it was the warrior who, through superiority of
arms, enslaved his adversary. The Roman wanted matter; the Barbarian
wanted man. Consequently, in the feudal ages, rents were almost nothing,—simply
a hare, a partridge, a pie, a few pints of wine brought by a little girl,
or a Maypole set up within the suzerain’s reach. In return, the vassal or
incumbent had to follow the seignior to battle (a thing which happened
almost every day), and equip and feed himself at his own expense. “This
spirit of the German tribes—this spirit of companionship and
association—governed the territory as it governed individuals. The
lands, like the men, were secured to a chief or seignior by a bond of
mutual protection and fidelity. This subjection was the labor of the
German epoch which gave birth to feudalism. By fair means or foul, every
proprietor who could not be a chief was forced to be a vassal.”
(Laboulaye: History of Property.)

By fair means or foul, every mechanic who cannot be a master has to be a
journeyman; every proprietor who is not an invader will be invaded; every
producer who cannot, by the exploitation of other men, furnish products at
less than their proper value, will lose his labor. Corporations and
masterships, which are hated so bitterly, but which will reappear if we
are not careful, are the necessary results of the principle of competition
which is inherent in property; their organization was patterned formerly
after that of the feudal hierarchy, which was the result of the
subordination of men and possessions.

The times which paved the way for the advent of feudalism and the
reappearance of large proprietors were times of carnage and the most
frightful anarchy. Never before had murder and violence made such havoc
with the human race. The tenth century, among others, if my memory serves
me rightly, was called the CENTURY OF IRON. His property, his life, and
the honor of his wife and children always in danger the small proprietor
made haste to do homage to his seignior, and to bestow something on the
church of his freehold, that he might receive protection and security.

“Both facts and laws bear witness that from the sixth to the tenth century
the proprietors of small freeholds were gradually plundered, or reduced by
the encroachments of large proprietors and counts to the condition of
either vassals or tributaries. The Capitularies are full of repressive
provisions; but the incessant reiteration of these threats only shows the
perseverance of the evil and the impotency of the government. Oppression,
moreover, varies but little in its methods. The complaints of the free
proprietors, and the groans of the plebeians at the time of the Gracchi,
were one and the same. It is said that, whenever a poor man refused to
give his estate to the bishop, the curate, the count, the judge, or the
centurion, these immediately sought an opportunity to ruin him. They made
him serve in the army until, completely ruined, he was induced, by fair
means or foul, to give up his freehold.”—Laboulaye: History of
Property.

How many small proprietors and manufacturers have not been ruined by large
ones through chicanery, law-suits, and competition? Strategy, violence,
and usury,—such are the proprietor’s methods of plundering the
laborer.

Thus we see property, at all ages and in all its forms, oscillating by
virtue of its principle between two opposite terms,—extreme division
and extreme accumulation.

Property, at its first term, is almost null. Reduced to personal
exploitation, it is property only potentially. At its second term, it
exists in its perfection; then it is truly property.

When property is widely distributed, society thrives, progresses, grows,
and rises quickly to the zenith of its power. Thus, the Jews, after
leaving Babylon with Esdras and Nehemiah, soon became richer and more
powerful than they had been under their kings. Sparta was in a strong and
prosperous condition during the two or three centuries which followed the
death of Lycurgus. The best days of Athens were those of the Persian war;
Rome, whose inhabitants were divided from the beginning into two classes,—the
exploiters and the exploited,—knew no such thing as peace.

When property is concentrated, society, abusing itself, polluted, so to
speak, grows corrupt, wears itself out—how shall I express this
horrible idea?—plunges into long-continued and fatal luxury.

When feudalism was established, society had to die of the same disease
which killed it under the Caesars,—I mean accumulated property. But
humanity, created for an immortal destiny, is deathless; the revolutions
which disturb it are purifying crises, invariably followed by more
vigorous health. In the fifth century, the invasion of the Barbarians
partially restored the world to a state of natural equality. In the
twelfth century, a new spirit pervading all society gave the slave his
rights, and through justice breathed new life into the heart of nations.
It has been said, and often repeated, that Christianity regenerated the
world. That is true; but it seems to me that there is a mistake in the
date. Christianity had no influence upon Roman society; when the
Barbarians came, that society had disappeared. For such is God’s curse
upon property; every political organization based upon the exploitation of
man, shall perish: slave-labor is death to the race of tyrants. The
patrician families became extinct, as the feudal families did, and as all
aristocracies must.

It was in the middle ages, when a reactionary movement was beginning to
secretly undermine accumulated property, that the influence of
Christianity was first exercised to its full extent.

The destruction of feudalism, the conversion of the serf into the
commoner, the emancipation of the communes, and the admission of the Third
Estate to political power, were deeds accomplished by Christianity
exclusively. I say Christianity, not ecclesiasticism; for the priests and
bishops were themselves large proprietors, and as such often persecuted
the villeins. Without the Christianity of the middle ages, the existence
of modern society could not be explained, and would not be possible.

The truth of this assertion is shown by the very facts which M. Laboulaye
quotes, although this author inclines to the opposite opinion. 57

Now, we did not commence to love God and to think of our salvation until
after the promulgation of the Gospel.

1. Slavery among the Romans.—”The Roman slave was, in the eyes of
the law, only a thing,—no more than an ox or a horse. He had neither
property, family, nor personality; he was defenceless against his master’s
cruelty, folly, or cupidity. ‘Sell your oxen that are past use,’ said
Cato, ‘sell your calves, your lambs, your wool, your hides, your old
ploughs, your old iron, your old slave, and your sick slave, and all that
is of no use to you.’ When no market could be found for the slaves that
were worn out by sickness or old age, they were abandoned to starvation.
Claudius was the first defender of this shameful practice.”

“Discharge your old workman,” says the economist of the proprietary
school; “turn off that sick domestic, that toothless and worn-out servant.
Put away the unserviceable beauty; to the hospital with the useless
mouths!”

“The condition of these wretched beings improved but little under the
emperors; and the best that can be said of the goodness of Antoninus is
that he prohibited intolerable cruelty, as an ABUSE OF PROPERTY. Expedit
enim reipublicae ne quis re re sua male utatur, says Gaius.

“As soon as the Church met in council, it launched an anathema against the
masters who had exercised over their slaves this terrible right of life
and death. Were not the slaves, thanks to the right of sanctuary and to
their poverty, the dearest proteges of religion? Constantine, who embodied
in the laws the grand ideas of Christianity, valued the life of a slave as
highly as that of a freeman, and declared the master, who had
intentionally brought death upon his slave, guilty of murder. Between this
law and that of Antoninus there is a complete revolution in moral ideas:
the slave was a thing; religion has made him a man.”

Note the last words: “Between the law of the Gospel and that of Antoninus
there is a complete revolution in moral ideas: the slave was a thing;
religion has made him a man.” The moral revolution which transformed the
slave into a citizen was effected, then, by Christianity before the
Barbarians set foot upon the soil of the empire. We have only to trace the
progress of this MORAL revolution in the PERSONNEL of society. “But,” M.
Laboulaye rightly says, “it did not change the condition of men in a
moment, any more than that of things; between slavery and liberty there
was an abyss which could not be filled in a day; the transitional step was
servitude.”

Now, what was servitude? In what did it differ from Roman slavery, and
whence came this difference? Let the same author answer.

2. Of servitude.—”I see, in the lord’s manor, slaves charged with
domestic duties. Some are employed in the personal service of the master;
others are charged with household cares. The women spin the wool; the men
grind the grain, make the bread, or practise, in the interest of the
seignior, what little they know of the industrial arts. The master
punishes them when he chooses, kills them with impunity, and sells them
and theirs like so many cattle. The slave has no personality, and
consequently no wehrgeld 58 peculiar
to himself: he is a thing. The wehrgeld belongs to the master as a
compensation for the loss of his property. Whether the slave is killed or
stolen, the indemnity does not change, for the injury is the same; but the
indemnity increases or diminishes according to the value of the serf. In
all these particulars Germanic slavery and Roman servitude are alike.”

This similarity is worthy of notice. Slavery is always the same, whether
in a Roman villa or on a Barbarian farm. The man, like the ox and the ass,
is a part of the live-stock; a price is set upon his head; he is a tool
without a conscience, a chattel without personality, an impeccable,
irresponsible being, who has neither rights nor duties.

Why did his condition improve?

“In good season…” [when?] “the serf began to be regarded as a man; and,
as such, the law of the Visigoths, under the influence of Christian ideas,
punished with fine or banishment any one who maimed or killed him.”

Always Christianity, always religion, though we should like to speak of
the laws only. Did the philanthropy of the Visigoths make its first
appearance before or after the preaching of the Gospel? This point must be
cleared up.

“After the conquest, the serfs were scattered over the large estates of
the Barbarians, each having his house, his lot, and his peculium, in
return for which he paid rent and performed service. They were rarely
separated from their homes when their land was sold; they and all that
they had became the property of the purchaser. The law favored this
realization of the serf, in not allowing him to be sold out of the
country.”

What inspired this law, destructive not only of slavery, but of property
itself? For, if the master cannot drive from his domain the slave whom he
has once established there, it follows that the slave is proprietor, as
well as the master.

“The Barbarians,” again says M. Laboulaye, “were the first to recognize
the slave’s rights of family and property,—two rights which are
incompatible with slavery.”

But was this recognition the necessary result of the mode of servitude in
vogue among the Germanic nations previous to their conversion to
Christianity, or was it the immediate effect of that spirit of justice
infused with religion, by which the seignior was forced to respect in the
serf a soul equal to his own, a brother in Jesus Christ, purified by the
same baptism, and redeemed by the same sacrifice of the Son of God in the
form of man? For we must not close our eyes to the fact that, though the
Barbarian morals and the ignorance and carelessness of the seigniors, who
busied themselves mainly with wars and battles, paying little or no
attention to agriculture, may have been great aids in the emancipation of
the serfs, still the vital principle of this emancipation was essentially
Christian. Suppose that the Barbarians had remained Pagans in the midst of
a Pagan world. As they did not change the Gospel, so they would not have
changed the polytheistic customs; slavery would have remained what it was;
they would have continued to kill the slaves who were desirous of liberty,
family, and property; whole nations would have been reduced to the
condition of Helots; nothing would have changed upon the terrestrial
stage, except the actors. The Barbarians were less selfish, less
imperious, less dissolute, and less cruel than the Romans. Such was the
nature upon which, after the fall of the empire and the renovation of
society, Christianity was to act. But this nature, grounded as in former
times upon slavery and war, would, by its own energy, have produced
nothing but war and slavery.

“GRADUALLY the serfs obtained the privilege of being judged by the same
standard as their masters….”

When, how, and by what title did they obtain this privilege?

“GRADUALLY their duties were regulated.”

Whence came the regulations? Who had the authority to introduce them?

“The master took a part of the labor of the serf,—three days, for
instance,—and left the rest to him. As for Sunday, that belonged to
God.”

And what established Sunday, if not religion? Whence I infer, that the
same power which took it upon itself to suspend hostilities and to lighten
the duties of the serf was also that which regulated the judiciary and
created a sort of law for the slave.

But this law itself, on what did it bear?—what was its principle?—what
was the philosophy of the councils and popes with reference to this
matter? The reply to all these questions, coming from me alone, would be
distrusted. The authority of M. Laboulaye shall give credence to my words.
This holy philosophy, to which the slaves were indebted for every thing,
this invocation of the Gospel, was an anathema against property.

The proprietors of small freeholds, that is, the freemen of the middle
class, had fallen, in consequence of the tyranny of the nobles, into a
worse condition than that of the tenants and serfs. “The expenses of war
weighed less heavily upon the serf than upon the freeman; and, as for
legal protection, the seigniorial court, where the serf was judged by his
peers, was far preferable to the cantonal assembly. It was better to have
a noble for a seignior than for a judge.”

So it is better to-day to have a man of large capital for an associate
than for a rival. The honest tenant—the laborer who earns weekly a
moderate but constant salary—is more to be envied than the
independent but small farmer, or the poor licensed mechanic.

At that time, all were either seigniors or serfs, oppressors or oppressed.
“Then, under the protection of convents, or of the seigniorial turret, new
societies were formed, which silently spread over the soil made fertile by
their hands, and which derived their power from the annihilation of the
free classes whom they enlisted in their behalf. As tenants, these men
acquired, from generation to generation, sacred rights over the soil which
they cultivated in the interest of lazy and pillaging masters. As fast as
the social tempest abated, it became necessary to respect the union and
heritage of these villeins, who by their labor had truly prescribed the
soil for their own profit.”

I ask how prescription could take effect where a contrary title and
possession already existed? M. Laboulaye is a lawyer. Where, then, did he
ever see the labor of the slave and the cultivation by the tenant
prescribe the soil for their own profit, to the detriment of a recognized
master daily acting as a proprietor? Let us not disguise matters. As fast
as the tenants and the serfs grew rich, they wished to be independent and
free; they commenced to associate, unfurl their municipal banners, raise
belfries, fortify their towns, and refuse to pay their seigniorial dues.
In doing these things they were perfectly right; for, in fact, their
condition was intolerable. But in law—I mean in Roman and Napoleonic
law—their refusal to obey and pay tribute to their masters was
illegitimate.

Now, this imperceptible usurpation of property by the commonalty was
inspired by religion.

The seignior had attached the serf to the soil; religion granted the serf
rights over the soil. The seignior imposed duties upon the serf; religion
fixed their limits. The seignior could kill the serf with impunity, could
deprive him of his wife, violate his daughter, pillage his house, and rob
him of his savings; religion checked his invasions: it excommunicated the
seignior. Religion was the real cause of the ruin of feudal property. Why
should it not be bold enough to-day to resolutely condemn capitalistic
property? Since the middle ages, there has been no change in social
economy except in its forms; its relations remain unaltered.

The only result of the emancipation of the serfs was that property changed
hands; or, rather, that new proprietors were created. Sooner or later the
extension of privilege, far from curing the evil, was to operate to the
disadvantage of the plebeians. Nevertheless, the new social organization
did not meet with the same end in all places. In Lombardy, for example,
where the people rapidly growing rich through commerce and industry soon
conquered the authorities, even to the exclusion of the nobles,—first,
the nobility became poor and degraded, and were forced, in order to live
and maintain their credit, to gain admission to the guilds; then, the
ordinary subalternization of property leading to inequality of fortunes,
to wealth and poverty, to jealousies and hatreds, the cities passed
rapidly from the rankest democracy under the yoke of a few ambitious
leaders. Such was the fate of most of the Lombardic cities,—Genoa,
Florence, Bologna, Milan, Pisa, &c,.—which afterwards changed
rulers frequently, but which have never since risen in favor of liberty.
The people can easily escape from the tyranny of despots, but they do not
know how to throw off the effects of their own despotism; just as we avoid
the assassin’s steel, while we succumb to a constitutional malady. As soon
as a nation becomes proprietor, either it must perish, or a foreign
invasion must force it again to begin its evolutionary round. 59

“The communes once organized, the kings treated them as superior vassals.
Now, just as the under vassal had no communication with the king except
through the direct vassal, so also the commoners could enter no complaints
except through the commune.

“Like causes produce like effects. Each commune became a small and
separate State, governed by a few citizens, who sought to extend their
authority over the others; who, in their turn, revenged themselves upon
the unfortunate inhabitants who had not the right of citizenship.
Feudalism in unemancipated countries, and oligarchy in the communes, made
nearly the same ravages. There were sub-associations, fraternities,
tradesmen’s associations in the communes, and colleges in the
universities. The oppression was so great, that it was no rare thing to
see the inhabitants of a commune demanding its suppression….”—Meyer:
Judicial Institutions of Europe.

In France, the Revolution was much more gradual. The communes, in taking
refuge under the protection of the kings, had found them masters rather
than protectors. Their liberty had long since been lost, or, rather, their
emancipation had been suspended, when feudalism received its death-blow at
the hand of Richelieu. Then liberty halted; the prince of the feudatories
held sole and undivided sway. The nobles, the clergy, the commoners, the
parliaments, every thing in short except a few seeming privileges, were
controlled by the king; who, like his early predecessors, consumed
regularly, and nearly always in advance, the revenues of his domain,—and
that domain was France.

Finally, ’89 arrived; liberty resumed its march; a century and a half had
been required to wear out the last form of feudal property,—monarchy.

The French Revolution may be defined as the substitution of real right
for personal right; that is to say, in the days of feudalism, the
value of property depended upon the standing of the proprietor, while,
after the Revolution, the regard for the man was proportional to his
property. Now, we have seen from what has been said in the preceding
pages, that this recognition of the right of laborers had been the
constant aim of the serfs and communes, the secret motive of their
efforts. The movement of ’89 was only the last stage of that long
insurrection. But it seems to me that we have not paid sufficient
attention to the fact that the Revolution of 1789, instigated by the same
causes, animated by the same spirit, triumphing by the same struggles, was
consummated in Italy four centuries ago. Italy was the first to sound the
signal of war against feudalism; France has followed; Spain and England
are beginning to move; the rest still sleep. If a grand example should be
given to the world, the day of trial would be much abridged.

Note the following summary of the revolutions of property, from the days
of the Roman Empire down to the present time:—

1. Fifth century.—Barbarian invasions; division of the lands of the
empire into independent portions or freeholds.

2. From the fifth to the eighth century.—Gradual concentration of
freeholds, or transformation of the small freeholds into fiefs, feuds,
tenures, &c. Large properties, small possessions. Charlemagne
(771-814) decrees that all freeholds are dependent upon the king of
France.

3. From the eighth to the tenth century.—The relation between the
crown and the superior dependents is broken; the latter becoming
freeholders, while the smaller dependents cease to recognize the king, and
adhere to the nearest suzerain. Feudal system.

4. Twelfth century.—Movement of the serfs towards liberty;
emancipation of the communes.

5. Thirteenth century.—Abolition of personal right, and of the
feudal system in Italy. Italian Republics.

6. Seventeenth century.—Abolition of feudalism in France during
Richelieu’s ministry. Despotism.

7. 1789.—Abolition of all privileges of birth, caste, provinces, and
corporations; equality of persons and of rights. French democracy.

8. 1830.—The principle of concentration inherent in individual
property is REMARKED. Development of the idea of association.

The more we reflect upon this series of transformations and changes, the
more clearly we see that they were necessary in their principle, in their
manifestations, and in their result.

It was necessary that inexperienced conquerors, eager for liberty, should
divide the Roman Empire into a multitude of estates, as free and
independent as themselves.

It was necessary that these men, who liked war even better than liberty,
should submit to their leaders; and, as the freehold represented the man,
that property should violate property.

It was necessary that, under the rule of a nobility always idle when not
fighting, there should grow up a body of laborers, who, by the power of
production, and by the division and circulation of wealth, would gradually
gain control over commerce, industry, and a portion of the land, and who,
having become rich, would aspire to power and authority also.

It was necessary, finally, that liberty and equality of rights having been
achieved, and individual property still existing, attended by robbery,
poverty, social inequality, and oppression, there should be an inquiry
into the cause of this evil, and an idea of universal association formed,
whereby, on condition of labor, all interests should be protected and
consolidated.

“Evil, when carried too far,” says a learned jurist, “cures itself; and
the political innovation which aims to increase the power of the State,
finally succumbs to the effects of its own work. The Germans, to secure
their independence, chose chiefs; and soon they were oppressed by their
kings and noblemen. The monarchs surrounded themselves with volunteers, in
order to control the freemen; and they found themselves dependent upon
their proud vassals. The missi dominici were sent into the
provinces to maintain the power of the emperors, and to protect the people
from the oppressions of the noblemen; and not only did they usurp the
imperial power to a great extent, but they dealt more severely with the
inhabitants. The freemen became vassals, in order to get rid of military
service and court duty; and they were immediately involved in all the
personal quarrels of their seigniors, and compelled to do jury duty in
their courts…. The kings protected the cities and the communes, in the
hope of freeing them from the yoke of the grand vassals, and of rendering
their own power more absolute; and those same communes have, in several
European countries, procured the establishment of a constitutional power,
are now holding royalty in check, and are giving rise to a universal
desire for political reform.”—Meyer: Judicial Institutions of
Europe.

In recapitulation.

What was feudalism? A confederation of the grand seign iors against the
villeins, and against the king. 60 What is
constitutional government? A confederation of the bourgeoisie against the
laborers, and against the king. 61

How did feudalism end? In the union of the communes and the royal
authority. How will the bourgeoisie aristocracy end? In the union of the
proletariat and the sovereign power.

What was the immediate result of the struggle of the communes and the king
against the seigniors? The monarchical unity of Louis XIV. What will be
the result of the struggle of the proletariat and the sovereign power
combined against the bourgeoisie? The absolute unity of the nation and the
government.

It remains to be seen whether the nation, one and supreme, will be
represented in its executive and central power by ONE, by FIVE, by ONE
HUNDRED, or ONE THOUSAND; that is, it remains to be seen, whether the
royalty of the barricades intends to maintain itself by the people, or
without the people, and whether Louis Philippe wishes his reign to be the
most famous in all history.

I have made this statement as brief, but at the same time as accurate as I
could, neglecting facts and details, that I might give the more attention
to the economical relations of society. For the study of history is like
the study of the human organism; just as the latter has its system, its
organs, and its functions, which can be treated separately, so the former
has its ensemble, its instruments, and its causes. Of course I do not
pretend that the principle of property is a complete resume of all the
social forces; but, as in that wonderful machine which we call our body,
the harmony of the whole allows us to draw a general conclusion from the
consideration of a single function or organ, so, in discussing historical
causes, I have been able to reason with absolute accuracy from a single
order of facts, certain as I was of the perfect correlation which exists
between this special order and universal history. As is the property of a
nation, so is its family, its marriage, its religion, its civil and
military organization, and its legislative and judicial institutions.
History, viewed from this standpoint, is a grand and sublime psychological
study.

Well, sir, in writing against property, have I done more than quote the
language of history? I have said to modern society,—the daughter and
heiress of all preceding societies,—Age guod agis: complete
the task which for six thousand years you have been executing under the
inspiration and by the command of God; hasten to finish your journey; turn
neither to the right nor the left, but follow the road which lies before
you. You seek reason, law, unity, and discipline; but hereafter you can
find them only by stripping off the veils of your infancy, and ceasing to
follow instinct as a guide. Awaken your sleeping conscience; open your
eyes to the pure light of reflection and science; behold the phantom which
troubled your dreams, and so long kept you in a state of unutterable
anguish. Know thyself, O long-deluded society, know thy enemy!… And I
have denounced property.

We often hear the defenders of the right of domain quote in defence of
their views the testimony of nations and ages. We can judge, from what has
just been said, how far this historical argument conforms to the real
facts and the conclusions of science.

To complete this apology, I must examine the various theories.

Neither politics, nor legislation, nor history, can be explained and
understood, without a positive theory which defines their elements, and
discovers their laws; in short, without a philosophy. Now, the two
principal schools, which to this day divide the attention of the world, do
not satisfy this condition.

The first, essentially PRACTICAL in its character, confined to a statement
of facts, and buried in learning, cares very little by what laws humanity
develops itself. To it these laws are the secret of the Almighty, which no
one can fathom without a commission from on high. In applying the facts of
history to government, this school does not reason; it does not
anticipate; it makes no comparison of the past with the present, in order
to predict the future. In its opinion, the lessons of experience teach us
only to repeat old errors, and its whole philosophy consists in
perpetually retracing the tracks of antiquity, instead of going straight
ahead forever in the direction in which they point.

The second school may be called either FATALISTIC or PANTHEISTIC. To it
the movements of empires and the revolutions of humanity are the
manifestations, the incarnations, of the Almighty. The human race,
identified with the divine essence, wheels in a circle of appearances,
informations, and destructions, which necessarily excludes the idea of
absolute truth, and destroys providence and liberty.

Corresponding to these two schools of history, there are two schools of
jurisprudence, similarly opposed, and possessed of the same peculiarities.

1. The practical and conventional school, to which the law is always a
creation of the legislator, an expression of his will, a privilege which
he condescends to grant,—in short, a gratuitous affirmation to be
regarded as judicious and legitimate, no matter what it declares.

2. The fatalistic and pantheistic school, sometimes called the historical
school, which opposes the despotism of the first, and maintains that law,
like literature and religion, is always the expression of society,—its
manifestation, its form, the external realization of its mobile spirit and
its ever-changing inspirations.

Each of these schools, denying the absolute, rejects thereby all positive
and a priori philosophy.

Now, it is evident that the theories of these two schools, whatever view
we take of them, are utterly unsatisfactory: for, opposed, they form no
dilemma,—that is, if one is false, it does not follow that the other
is true; and, united, they do not constitute the truth, since they
disregard the absolute, without which there is no truth. They are
respectively a THESIS and an ANTITHESIS. There remains to be found, then,
a SYNTHESIS, which, predicating the absolute, justifies the will of the
legislator, explains the variations of the law, annihilates the theory of
the circular movement of humanity, and demonstrates its progress.

The legists, by the very nature of their studies and in spite of their
obstinate prejudices, have been led irresistibly to suspect that the
absolute in the science of law is not as chimerical as is commonly
supposed; and this suspicion arose from their comparison of the various
relations which legislators have been called upon to regulate.

M. Laboulaye, the laureate of the Institute, begins his “History of
Property” with these words:—

“While the law of contract, which regulates only the mutual interests of
men, has not varied for centuries (except in certain forms which relate
more to the proof than to the character of the obligation), the civil law
of property, which regulates the mutual relations of citizens, has
undergone several radical changes, and has kept pace in its variations
with all the vicissitudes of society. The law of contract, which holds
essentially to those principles of eternal justice which are engraven upon
the depths of the human heart, is the immutable element of jurisprudence,
and, in a certain sense, its philosophy. Property, on the contrary, is the
variable element of jurisprudence, its history, its policy.”

Marvellous! There is in law, and consequently in politics, something
variable and something invariable. The invariable element is obligation,
the bond of justice, duty; the variable element is property,—that
is, the external form of law, the subject-matter of the contract. Whence
it follows that the law can modify, change, reform, and judge property.
Reconcile that, if you can, with the idea of an eternal, absolute,
permanent, and indefectible right.

However, M. Laboulaye is in perfect accord with himself when he adds,
“Possession of the soil rests solely upon force until society takes it in
hand, and espouses the cause of the possessor;” 62 and, a
little farther, “The right of property is not natural, but social. The
laws not only protect property: they give it birth,” &c. Now, that
which the law has made the law can unmake; especially since, according to
M. Laboulaye,—an avowed partisan of the historical or pantheistic
school,—the law is not absolute, is not an idea, but a form.

But why is it that property is variable, and, unlike obligation, incapable
of definition and settlement? Before affirming, somewhat boldly without
doubt, that in right there are no absolute principles (the most dangerous,
most immoral, most tyrannical—in a word, most anti-social—assertion
imaginable), it was proper that the right of property should be subjected
to a thorough examination, in order to put in evidence its variable,
arbitrary, and contingent elements, and those which are eternal,
legitimate, and absolute; then, this operation performed, it became easy
to account for the laws, and to correct all the codes.

Now, this examination of property I claim to have made, and in the fullest
detail; but, either from the public’s lack of interest in an unrecommended
and unattractive pamphlet, or—which is more probable—from the
weakness of exposition and want of genius which characterize the work, the
First Memoir on Property passed unnoticed; scarcely would a few
communists, having turned its leaves, deign to brand it with their
disapprobation. You alone, sir, in spite of the disfavor which I showed
for your economical predecessors in too severe a criticism of them,—you
alone have judged me justly; and although I cannot accept, at least
literally, your first judgment, yet it is to you alone that I appeal from
a decision too equivocal to be regarded as final.

It not being my intention to enter at present into a discussion of
principles, I shall content myself with estimating, from the point of view
of this simple and intelligible absolute, the theories of property which
our generation has produced.

The most exact idea of property is given us by the Roman law, faithfully
followed in this particular by the ancient legists. It is the absolute,
exclusive, autocratic domain of a man over a thing,—a domain which
begins by USUCAPTION, is maintained by POSSESSION, and finally, by the aid
of PRESCRIPTION, finds its sanction in the civil law; a domain which so
identifies the man with the thing, that the proprietor can say, “He who
uses my field, virtually compels me to labor for him; therefore he owes me
compensation.”

I pass in silence the secondary modes by which property can be acquired,—tradition,
sale, exchange, inheritance, &c.,—which have nothing in
common with the origin of property.

Accordingly, Pothier said THE DOMAIN OF PROPERTY, and not simply PROPERTY.
And the most learned writers on jurisprudence—in imitation of the
Roman praetor who recognized a RIGHT OF PROPERTY and a RIGHT OF POSSESSION—have
carefully distinguished between the DOMAIN and the right of USUFRUCT, USE,
and HABITATION, which, reduced to its natural limits, is the very
expression of justice; and which is, in my opinion, to supplant domanial
property, and finally form the basis of all jurisprudence.

But, sir, admire the clumsiness of systems, or rather the fatality of
logic! While the Roman law and all the savants inspired by it teach that
property in its origin is the right of first occupancy sanctioned by law,
the modern legists, dissatisfied with this brutal definition, claim that
property is based upon LABOR. Immediately they infer that he who no longer
labors, but makes another labor in his stead, loses his right to the
earnings of the latter. It is by virtue of this principle that the serfs
of the middle ages claimed a legal right to property, and consequently to
the enjoyment of political rights; that the clergy were despoiled in ’89
of their immense estates, and were granted a pension in exchange; that at
the restoration the liberal deputies opposed the indemnity of one billion
francs. “The nation,” said they, “has acquired by twenty-five years of
labor and possession the property which the emigrants forfeited by
abandonment and long idleness: why should the nobles be treated with more
favor than the priests?” 63

This position is quite in harmony with my principles, and I heartily
applaud the indignation of M. Lerminier; but I do not know that a
proprietor was ever deprived of his property because UNWORTHY; and as
reasonable, social, and even useful as the thing may seem, it is quite
contrary to the uses and customs of property.

All usurpations, not born of war, have been caused and supported by labor.
All modern history proves this, from the end of the Roman empire down to
the present day. And as if to give a sort of legal sanction to these
usurpations, the doctrine of labor, subversive of property, is professed
at great length in the Roman law under the name of PRESCRIPTION.

The man who cultivates, it has been said, makes the land his own;
consequently, no more property. This was clearly seen by the old jurists,
who have not failed to denounce this novelty; while on the other hand the
young school hoots at the absurdity of the first-occupant theory. Others
have presented themselves, pretending to reconcile the two opinions by
uniting them. They have failed, like all the juste-milieux of the
world, and are laughed at for their eclecticism. At present, the alarm is
in the camp of the old doctrine; from all sides pour IN DEFENCES OF
PROPERTY, STUDIES REGARDING PROPERTY, THEORIES OF PROPERTY, each one of
which, giving the lie to the rest, inflicts a fresh wound upon property.

Consider, indeed, the inextricable embarrassments, the contradictions, the
absurdities, the incredible nonsense, in which the bold defenders of
property so lightly involve themselves. I choose the eclectics, because,
those killed, the others cannot survive.

M. Troplong, jurist, passes for a philosopher in the eyes of the editors
of “Le Droit.” I tell the gentlemen of “Le Droit” that, in the judgment of
philosophers, M. Troplong is only an advocate; and I prove my assertion.

M. Troplong is a defender of progress. “The words of the code,” says he,
“are fruitful sap with which the classic works of the eighteenth century
overflow. To wish to suppress them… is to violate the law of progress,
and to forget that a science which moves is a science which grows.” 64

Now, the only mutable and progressive portion of law, as we have already
seen, is that which concerns property. If, then, you ask what reforms are
to be introduced into the right of property? M. Troplong makes no reply;
what progress is to be hoped for? no reply; what is to be the destiny of
property in case of universal association? no reply; what is the absolute
and what the contingent, what the true and what the false, in property? no
reply. M. Troplong favors quiescence and in statu quo in regard to
property. What could be more unphilosophical in a progressive philosopher?

Nevertheless, M. Troplong has thought about these things. “There are,” he
says, “many weak points and antiquated ideas in the doctrines of modern
authors concerning property: witness the works of MM. Toullier and
Duranton.” The doctrine of M. Troplong promises, then, strong points,
advanced and progressive ideas. Let us see; let us examine:—

“Man, placed in the presence of matter, is conscious of a power over it,
which has been given to him to satisfy the needs of his being. King of
inanimate or unintelligent nature, he feels that he has a right to modify
it, govern it, and fit it for his use. There it is, the subject of
property, which is legitimate only when exercised over things, never when
over persons.”

M. Troplong is so little of a philosopher, that he does not even know the
import of the philosophical terms which he makes a show of using. He says
of matter that it is the SUBJECT of property; he should have said the
OBJECT. M. Troplong uses the language of the anatomists, who apply the
term SUBJECT to the human matter used in their experiments.

This error of our author is repeated farther on: “Liberty, which overcomes
matter, the subject of property, &c.” The SUBJECT of property is man;
its OBJECT is matter. But even this is but a slight mortification;
directly we shall have some crucifixions.

Thus, according to the passage just quoted, it is in the conscience and
personality of man that the principle of property must be sought. Is there
any thing new in this doctrine? Apparently it never has occurred to those
who, since the days of Cicero and Aristotle, and earlier, have maintained
that THINGS BELONG TO THE FIRST OCCUPANT, that occupation may be exercised
by beings devoid of conscience and personality. The human personality,
though it may be the principle or the subject of property, as matter is
the object, is not the CONDITION. Now, it is this condition which we most
need to know. So far, M. Troplong tells us no more than his masters, and
the figures with which he adorns his style add nothing to the old idea.

Property, then, implies three terms: The subject, the object, and the
condition. There is no difficulty in regard to the first two terms. As to
the third, the condition of property down to this day, for the Greek as
for the Barbarian, has been that of first occupancy. What now would you
have it, progressive doctor?

“When man lays hands for the first time upon an object without a master,
he performs an act which, among individuals, is of the greatest
importance. The thing thus seized and occupied participates, so to speak,
in the personality of him who holds it. It becomes sacred, like himself.
It is impossible to take it without doing violence to his liberty, or to
remove it without rashly invading his person. Diogenes did but express
this truth of intuition, when he said: ‘Stand out of my light!'”

Very good! but would the prince of cynics, the very personal and very
haughty Diogenes, have had the right to charge another cynic, as rent for
this same place in the sunshine, a bone for twenty-four hours of
possession? It is that which constitutes the proprietor; it is that which
you fail to justify. In reasoning from the human personality and
individuality to the right of property, you unconsciously construct a
syllogism in which the conclusion includes more than the premises,
contrary to the rules laid down by Aristotle. The individuality of the
human person proves INDIVIDUAL POSSESSION, originally called proprietas,
in opposition to collective possession, communio.

It gives birth to the distinction between THINE and MINE, true signs of
equality, not, by any means, of subordination. “From equivocation to
equivocation,” says M. Michelet, 65 “property
would crawl to the end of the world; man could not limit it, were not he
himself its limit. Where they clash, there will be its frontier.” In
short, individuality of being destroys the hypothesis of communism, but it
does not for that reason give birth to domain,—that domain by virtue
of which the holder of a thing exercises over the person who takes his
place a right of prestation and suzerainty, that has always been
identified with property itself.

Further, that he whose legitimately acquired possession injures nobody
cannot be nonsuited without flagrant injustice, is a truth, not of
INTUITION, as M. Troplong says, but of INWARD SENSATION, 66
which has nothing to do with property.

M. Troplong admits, then, occupancy as a condition of property. In that,
he is in accord with the Roman law, in accord with MM. Toullier and
Duranton; but in his opinion this condition is not the only one, and it is
in this particular that his doctrine goes beyond theirs.

“But, however exclusive the right arising from sole occupancy, does it not
become still more so, when man has moulded matter by his labor; when he
has deposited in it a portion of himself, re-creating it by his industry,
and setting upon it the seal of his intelligence and activity? Of all
conquests, that is the most legitimate, for it is the price of labor.

“He who should deprive a man of the thing thus remodelled, thus humanized,
would invade the man himself, and would inflict the deepest wounds upon
his liberty.”

I pass over the very beautiful explanations in which M. Troplong,
discussing labor and industry, displays the whole wealth of his eloquence.
M. Troplong is not only a philosopher, he is an orator, an artist. HE
ABOUNDS WITH APPEALS TO THE CONSCIENCE AND THE PASSIONS. I might make sad
work of his rhetoric, should I undertake to dissect it; but I confine
myself for the present to his philosophy.

If M. Troplong had only known how to think and reflect, before abandoning
the original fact of occupancy and plunging into the theory of labor, he
would have asked himself: “What is it to occupy?” And he would have
discovered that OCCUPANCY is only a generic term by which all modes of
possession are expressed,—seizure, station, immanence, habitation,
cultivation, use, consumption, &c.; that labor, consequently, is but
one of a thousand forms of occupancy. He would have understood, finally,
that the right of possession which is born of labor is governed by the
same general laws as that which results from the simple seizure of things.
What kind of a legist is he who declaims when he ought to reason, who
continually mistakes his metaphors for legal axioms, and who does not so
much as know how to obtain a universal by induction, and form a category?

If labor is identical with occupancy, the only benefit which it secures to
the laborer is the right of individual possession of the object of his
labor; if it differs from occupancy, it gives birth to a right equal only
to itself,—that is, a right which begins, continues, and ends, with
the labor of the occupant. It is for this reason, in the words of the law,
that one cannot acquire a just title to a thing by labor alone. He must
also hold it for a year and a day, in order to be regarded as its
possessor; and possess it twenty or thirty years, in order to become its
proprietor.

These preliminaries established, M. Troplong’s whole structure falls of
its own weight, and the inferences, which he attempts to draw, vanish.

“Property once acquired by occupation and labor, it naturally preserves
itself, not only by the same means, but also by the refusal of the holder
to abdicate; for from the very fact that it has risen to the height of a
right, it is its nature to perpetuate itself and to last for an indefinite
period…. Rights, considered from an ideal point of view, are
imperishable and eternal; and time, which affects only the contingent, can
no more disturb them than it can injure God himself.” It is astonishing
that our author, in speaking of the IDEAL, TIME, and ETERNITY, did not
work into his sentence the DIVINE WINGS of Plato,—so fashionable
to-day in philosophical works.

With the exception of falsehood, I hate nonsense more than any thing else
in the world. PROPERTY ONCE ACQUIRED! Good, if it is acquired; but, as it
is not acquired, it cannot be preserved. RIGHTS ARE ETERNAL! Yes, in the
sight of God, like the archetypal ideas of the Platonists. But, on the
earth, rights exist only in the presence of a subject, an object, and a
condition. Take away one of these three things, and rights no longer
exist. Thus, individual possession ceases at the death of the subject,
upon the destruction of the object, or in case of exchange or abandonment.

Let us admit, however, with M. Troplong, that property is an absolute and
eternal right, which cannot be destroyed save by the deed and at the will
of the proprietor. What are the consequences which immediately follow from
this position?

To show the justice and utility of prescription, M. Troplong supposes the
case of a bona fide possessor whom a proprietor, long since forgotten or
even unknown, is attempting to eject from his possession. “At the start,
the error of the possessor was excusable but not irreparable. Pursuing its
course and growing old by degrees, it has so completely clothed itself in
the colors of truth, it has spoken so loudly the language of right, it has
involved so many confiding interests, that it fairly may be asked whether
it would not cause greater confusion to go back to the reality than to
sanction the fictions which it (an error, without doubt) has sown on its
way? Well, yes; it must be confessed, without hesitation, that the remedy
would prove worse than the disease, and that its application would lead to
the most outrageous injustice.”

How long since utility became a principle of law? When the Athenians, by
the advice of Aristides, rejected a proposition eminently advantageous to
their republic, but also utterly unjust, they showed finer moral
perception and greater clearness of intellect than M. Troplong. Property
is an eternal right, independent of time, indestructible except by the act
and at the will of the proprietor; and here this right is taken from the
proprietor, and on what ground? Good God! on the ground of ABSENCE! Is it
not true that legists are governed by caprice in giving and taking away
rights? When it pleases these gentlemen, idleness, unworthiness, or
absence can invalidate a right which, under quite similar circumstances,
labor, residence, and virtue are inadequate to obtain. Do not be
astonished that legists reject the absolute. Their good pleasure is law,
and their disordered imaginations are the real cause of the EVOLUTIONS in
jurisprudence.

“If the nominal proprietor should plead ignorance, his claim would be none
the more valid. Indeed, his ignorance might arise from inexcusable
carelessness, etc.”

What! in order to legitimate dispossession through prescription, you
suppose faults in the proprietor! You blame his absence,—which may
have been involuntary; his neglect,—not knowing what caused it; his
carelessness,—a gratuitous supposition of your own! It is absurd.
One very simple observation suffices to annihilate this theory. Society,
which, they tell us, makes an exception in the interest of order in favor
of the possessor as against the old proprietor, owes the latter an
indemnity; since the privilege of prescription is nothing but
expropriation for the sake of public utility.

But here is something stronger:—

“In society a place cannot remain vacant with impunity. A new man arises
in place of the old one who disappears or goes away; he brings here his
existence, becomes entirely absorbed, and devotes himself to this post
which he finds abandoned. Shall the deserter, then, dispute the honor of
the victory with the soldier who fights with the sweat standing on his
brow, and bears the burden of the day, in behalf of a cause which he deems
just?”

When the tongue of an advocate once gets in motion, who can tell where it
will stop? M. Troplong admits and justifies usurpation in case of the
ABSENCE of the proprietor, and on a mere presumption of his CARELESSNESS.
But when the neglect is authenticated; when the abandonment is solemnly
and voluntarily set forth in a contract in the presence of a magistrate;
when the proprietor dares to say, “I cease to labor, but I still claim a
share of the product,”—then the absentee’s right of property is
protected; the usurpation of the possessor would be criminal; farm-rent is
the reward of idleness. Where is, I do not say the consistency, but, the
honesty of this law?

Prescription is a result of the civil law, a creation of the legislator.
Why has not the legislator fixed the conditions differently?—why,
instead of twenty and thirty years, is not a single year sufficient to
prescribe?—why are not voluntary absence and confessed idleness as
good grounds for dispossession as involuntary absence, ignorance, or
apathy?

But in vain should we ask M. Troplong, the philosopher, to tell us the
ground of prescription. Concerning the code, M. Troplong does not reason.
“The interpreter,” he says, “must take things as they are, society as it
exists, laws as they are made: that is the only sensible starting-point.”
Well, then, write no more books; cease to reproach your predecessors—who,
like you, have aimed only at interpretation of the law—for having
remained in the rear; talk no more of philosophy and progress, for the lie
sticks in your throat.

M. Troplong denies the reality of the right of possession; he denies that
possession has ever existed as a principle of society; and he quotes M. de
Savigny, who holds precisely the opposite position, and whom he is content
to leave unanswered. At one time, M. Troplong asserts that possession and
property are CONTEMPORANEOUS, and that they exist AT THE SAME TIME, which
implies that the RIGHT of property is based on the FACT of possession,—a
conclusion which is evidently absurd; at another, he denies that
possession HAD ANY HISTORICAL EXISTENCE PRIOR TO PROPERTY,—an
assertion which is contradicted by the customs of many nations which
cultivate the land without appropriating it; by the Roman law, which
distinguished so clearly between POSSESSION and PROPERTY; and by our code
itself, which makes possession for twenty or thirty years the condition of
property. Finally, M. Troplong goes so far as to maintain that the Roman
maxim, Nihil comune habet proprietas cum possessione—which
contains so striking an allusion to the possession of the ager publicus,
and which, sooner or later, will be again accepted without qualification—expresses
in French law only a judicial axiom, a simple rule forbidding the union of
an action possessoire with an action petitoire,—an
opinion as retrogressive as it is unphilosophical.

In treating of actions possessoires, M. Troplong is so unfortunate
or awkward that he mutilates economy through failure to grasp its meaning
“Just as property,” he writes, “gave rise to the action for revendication,
so possession—the jus possessionis—was the cause of
possessory interdicts…. There were two kinds of interdicts,—the
interdict recuperandae possessionis, and the interdict retinendae
possessionis,—which correspond to our complainte en cas de
saisine et nouvelete. There is also a third,—adipiscendae
possessionis,—of which the Roman law-books speak in connection
with the two others. But, in reality, this interdict is not possessory:
for he who wishes to acquire possession by this means does not possess,
and has not possessed; and yet acquired possession is the condition of
possessory interdicts.” Why is not an action to acquire possession equally
conceivable with an action to be reinstated in possession? When the Roman
plebeians demanded a division of the conquered territory; when the
proletaires of Lyons took for their motto, Vivre en travaillant, ou
mourir en combattant (to live working, or die fighting); when the most
enlightened of the modern economists claim for every man the right to
labor and to live,—they only propose this interdict, adipiscendae
possessionis, which embarrasses M. Troplong so seriously. And what is
my object in pleading against property, if not to obtain possession? How
is it that M. Troplong—the legist, the orator, the philosopher—does
not see that logically this interdict must be admitted, since it is the
necessary complement of the two others, and the three united form an
indivisible trinity,—to RECOVER, to MAINTAIN, to ACQUIRE? To break
this series is to create a blank, destroy the natural synthesis of things,
and follow the example of the geometrician who tried to conceive of a
solid with only two dimensions. But it is not astonishing that M. Troplong
rejects the third class of actions possessoires, when we consider
that he rejects possession itself. He is so completely controlled by his
prejudices in this respect, that he is unconsciously led, not to unite
(that would be horrible in his eyes), but to identify the action
possessoire with the action petitoire. This could be easily
proved, were it not too tedious to plunge into these metaphysical
obscurities.

As an interpreter of the law, M. Troplong is no more successful than as a
philosopher. One specimen of his skill in this direction, and I am done
with him:—

Code of Civil Procedure, Art. 23: “Actions possessoires are only
when commenced within the year of trouble by those who have held
possession for at least a year by an irrevocable title.”

M. Troplong’s comments:—

“Ought we to maintain—as Duparc, Poullain, and Lanjuinais would have
us—the rule spoliatus ante omnia restituendus, when an
individual, who is neither proprietor nor annual possessor, is expelled by
a third party, who has no right to the estate? I think not. Art. 23 of the
Code is general: it absolutely requires that the plaintiff in actions
possessoires shall have been in peaceable possession for a year at
least. That is the invariable principle: it can in no case be modified.
And why should it be set aside? The plaintiff had no seisin; he had no
privileged possession; he had only a temporary occupancy, insufficient to
warrant in his favor the presumption of property, which renders the annual
possession so valuable. Well! this ae facto occupancy he has lost;
another is invested with it: possession is in the hands of this new-comer.
Now, is not this a case for the application of the principle, In pari
causa possesser potior habetur? Should not the actual possessor be
preferred to the evicted possessor? Can he not meet the complaint of his
adversary by saying to him: ‘Prove that you were an annual possessor
before me, for you are the plaintiff. As far as I am concerned, it is not
for me to tell you how I possess, nor how long I have possessed. Possideo
quia possideo. I have no other reply, no other defence. When you have
shown that your action is admissible, then we will see whether you are
entitled to lift the veil which hides the origin of my possession.'”

And this is what is honored with the name of jurisprudence and philosophy,—the
restoration of force. What! when I have “moulded matter by my labor” [I
quote M. Troplong]; when I have “deposited in it a portion of myself” [M.
Troplong]; when I have “re-created it by my industry, and set upon it the
seal of my intelligence” [M. Troplong],—on the ground that I have
not possessed it for a year, a stranger may dispossess me, and the law
offers me no protection! And if M. Troplong is my judge, M. Troplong will
condemn me! And if I resist my adversary,—if, for this bit of mud
which I may call MY FIELD, and of which they wish to rob me, a war breaks
out between the two competitors,—the legislator will gravely wait
until the stronger, having killed the other, has had possession for a
year! No, no, Monsieur Troplong! you do not understand the words of the
law; for I prefer to call in question your intelligence rather than the
justice of the legislator. You are mistaken in your application of the
principle, In pari causa possessor potior habetur: the actuality of
possession here refers to him who possessed at the time when the
difficulty arose, not to him who possesses at the time of the complaint.
And when the code prohibits the reception of actions possessoires,
in cases where the possession is not of a year’s duration, it simply means
that if, before a year has elapsed, the holder relinquishes possession,
and ceases actually to occupy in propria persona, he cannot avail
himself of an action possessoire against his successor. In a word,
the code treats possession of less than a year as it ought to treat all
possession, however long it has existed,—that is, the condition of
property ought to be, not merely seisin for a year, but perpetual seisin.

I will not pursue this analysis farther. When an author bases two volumes
of quibbles on foundations so uncertain, it may be boldly declared that
his work, whatever the amount of learning displayed in it, is a mess of
nonsense unworthy a critic’s attention.

At this point, sir, I seem to hear you reproaching me for this conceited
dogmatism, this lawless arrogance, which respects nothing, claims a
monopoly of justice and good sense, and assumes to put in the pillory any
one who dares to maintain an opinion contrary to its own. This fault, they
tell me, more odious than any other in an author, was too prominent a
characteristic of my First Memoir, and I should do well to correct it.

It is important to the success of my defence, that I should vindicate
myself from this reproach; and since, while perceiving in myself other
faults of a different character, I still adhere in this particular to my
disputatious style, it is right that I should give my reasons for my
conduct. I act, not from inclination, but from necessity.

I say, then, that I treat my authors as I do for two reasons: a REASON OF
RIGHT, and a REASON OF INTENTION; both peremptory.

1. Reason of right. When I preach equality of fortunes, I do not advance
an opinion more or less probable, a utopia more or less ingenious, an idea
conceived within my brain by means of imagination only. I lay down an
absolute truth, concerning which hesitation is impossible, modesty
superfluous, and doubt ridiculous.

But, do you ask, what assures me that that which I utter is true?

What assures me, sir? The logical and metaphysical processes which I use,
the correctness of which I have demonstrated by a priori reasoning; the
fact that I possess an infallible method of investigation and verification
with which my authors are unacquainted; and finally, the fact that for all
matters relating to property and justice I have found a formula which
explains all legislative variations, and furnishes a key for all problems.
Now, is there so much as a shadow of method in M. Toullier, M. Troplong,
and this swarm of insipid commentators, almost as devoid of reason and
moral sense as the code itself? Do you give the name of method to an
alphabetical, chronological, analogical, or merely nominal classification
of subjects? Do you give the name of method to these lists of paragraphs
gathered under an arbitrary head, these sophistical vagaries, this mass of
contradictory quotations and opinions, this nauseous style, this spasmodic
rhetoric, models of which are so common at the bar, though seldom found
elsewhere? Do you take for philosophy this twaddle, this intolerable
pettifoggery adorned with a few scholastic trimmings? No, no! a writer who
respects himself, never will consent to enter the balance with these
manipulators of law, misnamed JURISTS; and for my part I object to a
comparison.

2. Reason of intention. As far as I am permitted to divulge this secret, I
am a conspirator in an immense revolution, terrible to charlatans and
despots, to all exploiters of the poor and credulous, to all salaried
idlers, dealers in political panaceas and parables, tyrants in a word of
thought and of opinion. I labor to stir up the reason of individuals to
insurrection against the reason of authorities.

According to the laws of the society of which I am a member, all the evils
which afflict humanity arise from faith in external teachings and
submission to authority. And not to go outside of our own century, is it
not true, for instance, that France is plundered, scoffed at, and
tyrannized over, because she speaks in masses, and not by heads? The
French people are penned up in three or four flocks, receiving their
signal from a chief, responding to the voice of a leader, and thinking
just as he says. A certain journal, it is said, has fifty thousand
subscribers; assuming six readers to every subscriber, we have three
hundred thousand sheep browsing and bleating at the same cratch. Apply
this calculation to the whole periodical press, and you find that, in our
free and intelligent France, there are two millions of creatures receiving
every morning from the journals spiritual pasturage. Two millions! In
other words, the entire nation allows a score of little fellows to lead it
by the nose.

By no means, sir, do I deny to journalists talent, science, love of truth,
patriotism, and what you please. They are very worthy and intelligent
people, whom I undoubtedly should wish to resemble, had I the honor to
know them. That of which I complain, and that which has made me a
conspirator, is that, instead of enlightening us, these gentlemen command
us, impose upon us articles of faith, and that without demonstration or
verification. When, for example, I ask why these fortifications of Paris,
which, in former times, under the influence of certain prejudices, and by
means of a concurrence of extraordinary circumstances supposed for the
sake of the argument to have existed, may perhaps have served to protect
us, but which it is doubtful whether our descendants will ever use,—when
I ask, I say, on what grounds they assimilate the future to a hypothetical
past, they reply that M. Thiers, who has a great mind, has written upon
this subject a report of admirable elegance and marvellous clearness. At
this I become angry, and reply that M. Thiers does not know what he is
talking about. Why, having wanted no detached forts seven years ago, do we
want them to-day?

“Oh! damn it,” they say, “the difference is great; the first forts were
too near to us; with these we cannot be bombarded.” You cannot be
bombarded; but you can be blockaded, and will be, if you stir. What! to
obtain blockade forts from the Parisians, it has sufficed to prejudice
them against bombardment forts! And they thought to outwit the government!
Oh, the sovereignty of the people!…

“Damn it! M. Thiers, who is wiser than you, says that it would be absurd
to suppose a government making war upon citizens, and maintaining itself
by force and in spite of the will of the people. That would be absurd!”
Perhaps so: such a thing has happened more than once, and may happen
again. Besides, when despotism is strong, it appears almost legitimate.
However that may be, they lied in 1833, and they lie again in 1841,—those
who threaten us with the bomb-shell. And then, if M. Thiers is so well
assured of the intentions of the government, why does he not wish the
forts to be built before the circuit is extended? Why this air of
suspicion of the government, unless an intrigue has been planned between
the government and M. Thiers?

“Damn it! we do not wish to be again invaded. If Paris had been fortified
in 1815, Napoleon would not have been conquered!” But I tell you that
Napoleon was not conquered, but sold; and that if, in 1815, Paris had had
fortifications, it would have been with them as with the thirty thousand
men of Grouchy, who were misled during the battle. It is still easier to
surrender forts than to lead soldiers. Would the selfish and the cowardly
ever lack reasons for yielding to the enemy?

“But do you not see that the absolutist courts are provoked at our
fortifications?—a proof that they do not think as you do.” You
believe that; and, for my part, I believe that in reality they are quite
at ease about the matter; and, if they appear to tease our ministers, they
do so only to give the latter an opportunity to decline. The absolutist
courts are always on better terms with our constitutional monarchy, than
our monarchy with us. Does not M. Guizot say that France needs to be
defended within as well as without? Within! against whom? Against France.
O Parisians! it is but six months since you demanded war, and now you want
only barricades. Why should the allies fear your doctrines, when you
cannot even control yourselves?… How could you sustain a siege, when you
weep over the absence of an actress?

“But, finally, do you not understand that, by the rules of modern warfare,
the capital of a country is always the objective point of its assailants?
Suppose our army defeated on the Rhine, France invaded, and defenceless
Paris falling into the hands of the enemy. It would be the death of the
administrative power; without a head it could not live. The capital taken,
the nation must submit. What do you say to that?”

The reply is very simple. Why is society constituted in such a way that
the destiny of the country depends upon the safety of the capital? Why, in
case our territory be invaded and Paris besieged, cannot the legislative,
executive, and military powers act outside of Paris? Why this localization
of all the vital forces of France?… Do not cry out upon
decentralization. This hackneyed reproach would discredit only your own
intelligence and sincerity. It is not a question of decentralization; it
is your political fetichism which I attack. Why should the national unity
be attached to a certain place, to certain functionaries, to certain
bayonets? Why should the Place Maubert and the Palace of the Tuileries be
the palladium of France?

Now let me make an hypothesis.

Suppose it were written in the charter, “In case the country be again
invaded, and Paris forced to surrender, the government being annihilated
and the national assembly dissolved, the electoral colleges shall
reassemble spontaneously and without other official notice, for the
purpose of appointing new deputies, who shall organize a provisional
government at Orleans.

“If Orleans succumbs, the government shall reconstruct itself in the same
way at Lyons; then at Bordeaux, then at Bayonne, until all France be
captured or the enemy driven from the land. For the government may perish,
but the nation never dies. The king, the peers, and the deputies
massacred, VIVE LA FRANCE!”

Do you not think that such an addition to the charter would be a better
safeguard for the liberty and integrity of the country than walls and
bastions around Paris? Well, then! do henceforth for administration,
industry, science, literature, and art that which the charter ought to
prescribe for the central government and common defence. Instead of
endeavoring to render Paris impregnable, try rather to render the loss of
Paris an insignificant matter. Instead of accumulating about one point
academies, faculties, schools, and political, administrative, and judicial
centres; instead of arresting intellectual development and weakening
public spirit in the provinces by this fatal agglomeration,—can you
not, without destroying unity, distribute social functions among places as
well as among persons? Such a system—in allowing each province to
participate in political power and action, and in balancing industry,
intelligence, and strength in all parts of the country—would equally
secure, against enemies at home and enemies abroad, the liberty of the
people and the stability of the government.

Discriminate, then, between the centralization of functions and the
concentration of organs; between political unity and its material symbol.

“Oh! that is plausible; but it is impossible!”—which means that the
city of Paris does not intend to surrender its privileges, and that there
it is still a question of property.

Idle talk! The country, in a state of panic which has been cleverly worked
upon, has asked for fortifications. I dare to affirm that it has abdicated
its sovereignty. All parties are to blame for this suicide,—the
conservatives, by their acquiescence in the plans of the government; the
friends of the dynasty, because they wish no opposition to that which
pleases them, and because a popular revolution would annihilate them; the
democrats, because they hope to rule in their turn. 67 That which
all rejoice at having obtained is a means of future repression. As for the
defence of the country, they are not troubled about that. The idea of
tyranny dwells in the minds of all, and brings together into one
conspiracy all forms of selfishness. We wish the regeneration of society,
but we subordinate this desire to our ideas and convenience. That our
approaching marriage may take place, that our business may succeed, that
our opinions may triumph, we postpone reform. Intolerance and selfishness
lead us to put fetters upon liberty; and, because we cannot wish all that
God wishes, we would, if it rested with us, stay the course of destiny
rather than sacrifice our own interests and self-love. Is not this an
instance where the words of Solomon apply,—”L’iniquite a menti a
elle-meme“?

It is said that on this question of the fortification of Paris the staff
of “Le National” are not agreed. This would prove, if proof were needed,
that a journal may blunder and falsify, without entitling any one to
accuse its editors. A journal is a metaphysical being, for which no one is
really responsible, and which owes its existence solely to mutual
concessions. This idea ought to frighten those worthy citizens who,
because they borrow their opinions from a journal, imagine that they
belong to a political party, and who have not the faintest suspicion that
they are really without a head.

For this reason, sir, I have enlisted in a desperate war against every
form of authority over the multitude. Advance sentinel of the proletariat,
I cross bayonets with the celebrities of the day, as well as with spies
and charlatans. Well, when I am fighting with an illustrious adversary,
must I stop at the end of every phrase, like an orator in the tribune, to
say “the learned author,” “the eloquent writer,” “the profound publicist,”
and a hundred other platitudes with which it is fashionable to mock
people? These civilities seem to me no less insulting to the man attacked
than dishonorable to the aggressor. But when, rebuking an author, I say to
him, “Citizen, your doctrine is absurd, and, if to prove my assertion is
an offence against you, I am guilty of it,” immediately the listener opens
his ears; he is all attention; and, if I do not succeed in convincing him,
at least I give his thought an impulse, and set him the wholesome example
of doubt and free examination.

Then do not think, sir, that, in tripping up the philosophy of your very
learned and very estimable confrere, M. Troplong, I fail to appreciate his
talent as a writer (in my opinion, he has too much for a jurist); nor his
knowledge, though it is too closely confined to the letter of the law, and
the reading of old books. In these particulars, M. Troplong offends on the
side of excess rather than deficiency. Further, do not believe that I am
actuated by any personal animosity towards him, or that I have the
slightest desire to wound his self-love. I know M. Troplong only by his
“Treatise on Prescription,” which I wish he had not written; and as for my
critics, neither M. Troplong, nor any of those whose opinion I value, will
ever read me. Once more, my only object is to prove, as far as I am able,
to this unhappy French nation, that those who make the laws, as well as
those who interpret them, are not infallible organs of general,
impersonal, and absolute reason.

I had resolved to submit to a systematic criticism the semi-official
defence of the right of property recently put forth by M. Wolowski, your
colleague at the Conservatory. With this view, I had commenced to collect
the documents necessary for each of his lectures, but, soon perceiving
that the ideas of the professor were incoherent, that his arguments
contradicted each other, that one affirmation was sure to be overthrown by
another, and that in M. Wolowski’s lucubrations the good was always
mingled with the bad, and being by nature a little suspicious, it suddenly
occurred to me that M. Wolowski was an advocate of equality in disguise,
thrown in spite of himself into the position in which the patriarch Jacob
pictures one of his sons,—inter duas clitellas, between two
stools, as the proverb says. In more parliamentary language, I saw clearly
that M. Wolowski was placed between his profound convictions on the one
hand and his official duties on the other, and that, in order to maintain
his position, he had to assume a certain slant. Then I experienced great
pain at seeing the reserve, the circumlocution, the figures, and the irony
to which a professor of legislation, whose duty it is to teach dogmas with
clearness and precision, was forced to resort; and I fell to cursing the
society in which an honest man is not allowed to say frankly what he
thinks. Never, sir, have you conceived of such torture: I seemed to be
witnessing the martyrdom of a mind. I am going to give you an idea of
these astonishing meetings, or rather of these scenes of sorrow.

Monday, Nov. 20, 1840.—The professor declares, in brief,—1.
That the right of property is not founded upon occupation, but upon the
impress of man; 2. That every man has a natural and inalienable right to
the use of matter.

Now, if matter can be appropriated, and if, notwithstanding, all men
retain an inalienable right to the use of this matter, what is property?—and
if matter can be appropriated only by labor, how long is this
appropriation to continue?—questions that will confuse and confound
all jurists whatsoever.

Then M. Wolowski cites his authorities. Great God! what witnesses he
brings forward! First, M. Troplong, the great metaphysician, whom we have
discussed; then, M. Louis Blanc, editor of the “Revue du Progres,” who
came near being tried by jury for publishing his “Organization of Labor,”
and who escaped from the clutches of the public prosecutor only by a
juggler’s trick; 68 Corinne,—I mean Madame de
Stael,—who, in an ode, making a poetical comparison of the land with
the waves, of the furrow of a plough with the wake of a vessel, says “that
property exists only where man has left his trace,” which makes property
dependent upon the solidity of the elements; Rousseau, the apostle of
liberty and equality, but who, according to M. Wolowski, attacked property
only AS A JOKE, and in order to point a paradox; Robespierre, who
prohibited a division of the land, because he regarded such a measure as a
rejuvenescence of property, and who, while awaiting the definitive
organization of the republic, placed all property in the care?? of the
people,—that is, transferred the right of eminent domain from the
individual to society; Babeuf, who wanted property for the nation, and
communism for the citizens; M. Considerant, who favors a division of
landed property into shares,—that is, who wishes to render property
nominal and fictitious: the whole being intermingled with jokes and
witticisms (intended undoubtedly to lead people away from the HORNETS’
NESTS) at the expense of the adversaries of the right of property!

November 26.—M. Wolowski supposes this objection: Land, like water,
air, and light, is necessary to life, therefore it cannot be appropriated;
and he replies: The importance of landed property diminishes as the power
of industry increases.

Good! this importance DIMINISHES, but it does not DISAPPEAR; and this, of
itself, shows landed property to be illegitimate. Here M. Wolowski
pretends to think that the opponents of property refer only to property in
land, while they merely take it as a term of comparison; and, in showing
with wonderful clearness the absurdity of the position in which he places
them, he finds a way of drawing the attention of his hearers to another
subject without being false to the truth which it is his office to
contradict.

“Property,” says M. Wolowski, “is that which distinguishes man from the
animals.” That may be; but are we to regard this as a compliment or a
satire?

“Mahomet,” says M. Wolowski, “decreed property.” And so did Genghis Khan,
and Tamerlane, and all the ravagers of nations. What sort of legislators
were they?

“Property has been in existence ever since the origin of the human race.”
Yes, and so has slavery, and despotism also; and likewise polygamy and
idolatry. But what does this antiquity show?

The members of the Council of the State—M. Portalis at their head—did
not raise, in their discussion of the Code, the question of the legitimacy
of property. “Their silence,” says M. Wolowski, “is a precedent in favor
of this right.” I may regard this reply as personally addressed to me,
since the observation belongs to me. I reply, “As long as an opinion is
universally admitted, the universality of belief serves of itself as
argument and proof. When this same opinion is attacked, the former faith
proves nothing; we must resort to reason. Ignorance, however old and
pardonable it may be, never outweighs reason.”

Property has its abuses, M. Wolowski confesses. “But,” he says, “these
abuses gradually disappear. To-day their cause is known. They all arise
from a false theory of property. In principle, property is inviolable, but
it can and must be checked and disciplined.” Such are the conclusions of
the professor.

When one thus remains in the clouds, he need not fear to equivocate.
Nevertheless, I would like him to define these ABUSES of property, to show
their cause, to explain this true theory from which no abuse is to spring;
in short, to tell me how, without destroying property, it can be governed
for the greatest good of all. “Our civil code,” says M. Wolowski, in
speaking of this subject, “leaves much to be desired.” I think it leaves
every thing undone.

Finally, M. Wolowski opposes, on the one hand, the concentration of
capital, and the absorption which results therefrom; and, on the other, he
objects to the extreme division of the land. Now I think that I have
demonstrated in my First Memoir, that large accumulation and minute
division are the first two terms of an economical trinity,—a THESIS
and an ANTITHESIS. But, while M. Wolowski says nothing of the third term,
the SYNTHESIS, and thus leaves the inference in suspense, I have shown
that this third term is ASSOCIATION, which is the annihilation of
property.

November 30.—LITERARY PROPERTY. M. Wolowski grants that it is just
to recognize the rights of talent (which is not in the least hostile to
equality); but he seriously objects to perpetual and absolute property in
the works of genius, to the profit of the authors’ heirs. His main
argument is, that society has a right of collective production over every
creation of the mind. Now, it is precisely this principle of collective
power that I developed in my “Inquiries into Property and Government,” and
on which I have established the complete edifice of a new social
organization. M. Wolowski is, as far as I know, the first jurist who has
made a legislative application of this economical law. Only, while I have
extended the principle of collective power to every sort of product, M.
Wolowski, more prudent than it is my nature to be, confines it to neutral
ground. So, that that which I am bold enough to say of the whole, he is
contented to affirm of a part, leaving the intelligent hearer to fill up
the void for himself. However, his arguments are keen and close. One feels
that the professor, finding himself more at ease with one aspect of
property, has given the rein to his intellect, and is rushing on towards
liberty.

1. Absolute literary property would hinder the activity of other men, and
obstruct the development of humanity. It would be the death of progress;
it would be suicide. What would have happened if the first inventions,—the
plough, the level, the saw, &c.,—had been appropriated?

Such is the first proposition of M. Wolowski.

I reply: Absolute property in land and tools hinders human activity, and
obstructs progress and the free development of man.

What happened in Rome, and in all the ancient nations? What occurred in
the middle ages? What do we see to-day in England, in consequence of
absolute property in the sources of production?

The suicide of humanity.

2. Real and personal property is in harmony with the social interest. In
consequence of literary property, social and individual interests are
perpetually in conflict.

The statement of this proposition contains a rhetorical figure, common
with those who do not enjoy full and complete liberty of speech. This
figure is the anti-phrasis or contre-verite. It consists,
according to Dumarsais and the best humanists, in saying one thing while
meaning another. M. Wolowski’s proposition, naturally expressed, would
read as follows: “Just as real and personal property is essentially
hostile to society, so, in consequence of literary property, social and
individual interests are perpetually in conflict.”

3. M. de Montalembert, in the Chamber of Peers, vehemently protested
against the assimilation of authors to inventors of machinery; an
assimilation which he claimed to be injurious to the former. M. Wolowski
replies, that the rights of authors, without machinery, would be nil;
that, without paper-mills, type foundries, and printing-offices, there
could be no sale of verse and prose; that many a mechanical invention,—the
compass, for instance, the telescope, or the steam-engine,—is quite
as valuable as a book.

Prior to M. Montalembert, M. Charles Comte had laughed at the inference in
favor of mechanical inventions, which logical minds never fail to draw
from the privileges granted to authors. “He,” says M. Comte, “who first
conceived and executed the idea of transforming a piece of wood into a
pair of sabots, or an animal’s hide into a pair of sandals, would thereby
have acquired an exclusive right to make shoes for the human race!”
Undoubtedly, under the system of property. For, in fact, this pair of
sabots, over which you make so merry, is the creation of the shoemaker,
the work of his genius, the expression of his thought; to him it is his
poem, quite as much as “Le Roi s’amuse,” is M. Victor Hugo’s drama.
Justice for all alike. If you refuse a patent to a perfecter of boots,
refuse also a privilege to a maker of rhymes.

4. That which gives importance to a book is a fact external to the author
and his work. Without the intelligence of society, without its
development, and a certain community of ideas, passions, and interests
between it and the authors, the works of the latter would be worth
nothing. The exchangeable value of a book is due even more to the SOCIAL
CONDITION than to the talent displayed in it.

Indeed, it seems as if I were copying my own words. This proposition of M.
Wolowski contains a special expression of a general and absolute idea, one
of the strongest and most conclusive against the right of property. Why do
artists, like mechanics, find the means to live? Because society has made
the fine arts, like the rudest industries, objects of consumption and
exchange, governed consequently by all the laws of commerce and political
economy. Now, the first of these laws is the equipoise of functions; that
is, the equality of associates.

5. M. Wolowski indulges in sarcasm against the petitioners for literary
property. “There are authors,” he says, “who crave the privileges of
authors, and who for that purpose point out the power of the melodrama.
They speak of the niece of Corneille, begging at the door of a theatre
which the works of her uncle had enriched…. To satisfy the avarice of
literary people, it would be necessary to create literary majorats, and
make a whole code of exceptions.”

I like this virtuous irony. But M. Wolowski has by no means exhausted the
difficulties which the question involves. And first, is it just that MM.
Cousin, Guizot, Villemain, Damiron, and company, paid by the State for
delivering lectures, should be paid a second time through the booksellers?—that
I, who have the right to report their lectures, should not have the right
to print them? Is it just that MM. Noel and Chapsal, overseers of the
University, should use their influence in selling their selections from
literature to the youth whose studies they are instructed to superintend
in consideration of a salary? And, if that is not just, is it not proper
to refuse literary property to every author holding public offices, and
receiving pensions or sinecures?

Again, shall the privilege of the author extend to irreligious and immoral
works, calculated only to corrupt the heart, and obscure the
understanding? To grant this privilege is to sanction immorality by law;
to refuse it is to censure the author. And since it is impossible, in the
present imperfect state of society, to prevent all violations of the moral
law, it will be necessary to open a license-office for books as well as
morals. But, then, three-fourths of our literary people will be obliged to
register; and, recognized thenceforth on their own declaration as
PROSTITUTES, they will necessarily belong to the public. We pay toll to
the prostitute; we do not endow her.

Finally, shall plagiarism be classed with forgery? If you reply “Yes,” you
appropriate in advance all the subjects of which books treat; if you say
“No,” you leave the whole matter to the decision of the judge. Except in
the case of a clandestine reprint, how will he distinguish forgery from
quotation, imitation, plagiarism, or even coincidence? A savant spends two
years in calculating a table of logarithms to nine or ten decimals. He
prints it. A fortnight after his book is selling at half-price; it is
impossible to tell whether this result is due to forgery or competition.
What shall the court do? In case of doubt, shall it award the property to
the first occupant? As well decide the question by lot.

These, however, are trifling considerations; but do we see that, in
granting a perpetual privilege to authors and their heirs, we really
strike a fatal blow at their interests? We think to make booksellers
dependent upon authors,—a delusion. The booksellers will unite
against works, and their proprietors. Against works, by refusing to push
their sale, by replacing them with poor imitations, by reproducing them in
a hundred indirect ways; and no one knows how far the science of
plagiarism, and skilful imitation may be carried. Against proprietors. Are
we ignorant of the fact, that a demand for a dozen copies enables a
bookseller to sell a thousand; that with an edition of five hundred he can
supply a kingdom for thirty years? What will the poor authors do in the
presence of this omnipotent union of booksellers? I will tell them what
they will do. They will enter the employ of those whom they now treat as
pirates; and, to secure an advantage, they will become wage laborers. A
fit reward for ignoble avarice, and insatiable pride. 69

Contradictions of contradictions! “Genius is the great leveller of the
world,” cries M. de Lamartine; “then genius should be a proprietor.
Literary property is the fortune of democracy.” This unfortunate poet
thinks himself profound when he is only puffed up. His eloquence consists
solely in coupling ideas which clash with each other: ROUND SQUARE, DARK
SUN, FALLEN ANGEL, PRIEST and LOVE, THOUGHT and POETRY, GUNIUS {???}, and
FORTUNE, LEVELING and PROPERTY. Let us tell him, in reply, that his mind
is a dark luminary; that each of his discourses is a disordered harmony;
and that all his successes, whether in verse or prose, are due to the use
of the extraordinary in the treatment of the most ordinary subjects.

“Le National,” in reply to the report of M. Lamartine, endeavors to prove
that literary property is of quite a different nature from landed
property; as if the nature of the right of property depended on the object
to which it is applied, and not on the mode of its exercise and the
condition of its existence. But the main object of “Le National” is to
please a class of proprietors whom an extension of the right of property
vexes: that is why “Le National” opposes literary property. Will it tell
us, once for all, whether it is for equality or against it?

6. OBJECTION.—Property in occupied land passes to the heirs of the
occupant. “Why,” say the authors, “should not the work of genius pass in
like manner to the heirs of the man of genius?” M. Wolowski’s reply:
“Because the labor of the first occupant is continued by his heirs, while
the heirs of an author neither change nor add to his works. In landed
property, the continuance of labor explains the continuance of the right.”

Yes, when the labor is continued; but if the labor is not continued, the
right ceases. Thus is the right of possession, founded on personal labor,
recognized by M. Wolowski.

M. Wolowski decides in favor of granting to authors property in their
works for a certain number of years, dating from the day of their first
publication.

The succeeding lectures on patents on inventions were no less instructive,
although intermingled with shocking contradictions inserted with a view to
make the useful truths more palatable. The necessity for brevity compels
me to terminate this examination here, not without regret.

Thus, of two eclectic jurists, who attempt a defence of property, one is
entangled in a set of dogmas without principle or method, and is
constantly talking nonsense; and the other designedly abandons the cause
of property, in order to present under the same name the theory of
individual possession. Was I wrong in claiming that confusion reigned
among legists, and ought I to be legally prosecuted for having said that
their science henceforth stood convicted of falsehood, its glory eclipsed?

The ordinary resources of the law no longer sufficing, philosophy,
political economy, and the framers of systems have been consulted. All the
oracles appealed to have been discouraging.

The philosophers are no clearer to-day than at the time of the eclectic
efflorescence; nevertheless, through their mystical apothegms, we can
distinguish the words PROGRESS, UNITY, ASSOCIATION, SOLIDARITY,
FRATERNITY, which are certainly not reassuring to proprietors. One of
these philosophers, M. Pierre Leroux, has written two large books, in
which he claims to show by all religious, legislative, and philosophical
systems that, since men are responsible to each other, equality of
conditions is the final law of society. It is true that this philosopher
admits a kind of property; but as he leaves us to imagine what property
would become in presence of equality, we may boldly class him with the
opponents of the right of increase.

I must here declare freely—in order that I may not be suspected of
secret connivance, which is foreign to my nature—that M. Leroux has
my full sympathy. Not that I am a believer in his quasi-Pythagorean
philosophy (upon this subject I should have more than one observation to
submit to him, provided a veteran covered with stripes would not despise
the remarks of a conscript); not that I feel bound to this author by any
special consideration for his opposition to property. In my opinion, M.
Leroux could, and even ought to, state his position more explicitly and
logically. But I like, I admire, in M. Leroux, the antagonist of our
philosophical demigods, the demolisher of usurped reputations, the
pitiless critic of every thing that is respected because of its antiquity.
Such is the reason for my high esteem of M. Leroux; such would be the
principle of the only literary association which, in this century of
coteries, I should care to form. We need men who, like M. Leroux, call in
question social principles,—not to diffuse doubt concerning them,
but to make them doubly sure; men who excite the mind by bold negations,
and make the conscience tremble by doctrines of annihilation. Where is the
man who does not shudder on hearing M. Leroux exclaim, “There is neither a
paradise nor a hell; the wicked will not be punished, nor the good
rewarded. Mortals! cease to hope and fear; you revolve in a circle of
appearances; humanity is an immortal tree, whose branches, withering one
after another, feed with their debris the root which is always young!”
Where is the man who, on hearing this desolate confession of faith, does
not demand with terror, “Is it then true that I am only an aggregate of
elements organized by an unknown force, an idea realized for a few
moments, a form which passes and disappears? Is it true that my mind is
only a harmony, and my soul a vortex? What is the ego? what is God? what
is the sanction of society?”

In former times, M. Leroux would have been regarded as a great culprit,
worthy only (like Vanini) of death and universal execration. To-day, M.
Leroux is fulfilling a mission of salvation, for which, whatever he may
say, he will be rewarded. Like those gloomy invalids who are always
talking of their approaching death, and who faint when the doctor’s
opinion confirms their pretence, our materialistic society is agitated and
loses countenance while listening to this startling decree of the
philosopher, “Thou shalt die!” Honor then to M. Leroux, who has revealed
to us the cowardice of the Epicureans; to M. Leroux, who renders new
philosophical solutions necessary! Honor to the anti-eclectic, to the
apostle of equality!

In his work on “Humanity,” M. Leroux commences by positing the necessity
of property: “You wish to abolish property; but do you not see that
thereby you would annihilate man and even the name of man?… You wish to
abolish property; but could you live without a body? I will not tell you
that it is necessary to support this body;… I will tell you that this
body is itself a species of property.”

In order clearly to understand the doctrine of M. Leroux, it must be borne
in mind that there are three necessary and primitive forms of society,—communism,
property, and that which to-day we properly call association. M. Leroux
rejects in the first place communism, and combats it with all his might.
Man is a personal and free being, and therefore needs a sphere of
independence and individual activity. M. Leroux emphasizes this in adding:
“You wish neither family, nor country, nor property; therefore no more
fathers, no more sons, no more brothers. Here you are, related to no being
in time, and therefore without a name; here you are, alone in the midst of
a billion of men who to-day inhabit the earth. How do you expect me to
distinguish you in space in the midst of this multitude?”

If man is indistinguishable, he is nothing. Now, he can be distinguished,
individualized, only through a devotion of certain things to his use,—such
as his body, his faculties, and the tools which he uses. “Hence,” says M.
Leroux, “the necessity of appropriation;” in short, property.

But property on what condition? Here M. Leroux, after having condemned
communism, denounces in its turn the right of domain. His whole doctrine
can be summed up in this single proposition,—Man may be made by
property a slave or a despot by turns.

That posited, if we ask M. Leroux to tell us under what system of property
man will be neither a slave nor a despot, but free, just, and a citizen,
M. Leroux replies in the third volume of his work on “Humanity:”—

“There are three ways of destroying man’s communion with his fellows and
with the universe:… 1. By separating man in time; 2. by separating him
in space; 3. by dividing the land, or, in general terms, the instruments
of production; by attaching men to things, by subordinating man to
property, by making man a proprietor.”

This language, it must be confessed, savors a little too strongly of the
metaphysical heights which the author frequents, and of the school of M.
Cousin. Nevertheless, it can be seen, clearly enough it seems to me, that
M. Leroux opposes the exclusive appropriation of the instruments of
production; only he calls this non-appropriation of the instruments of
production a NEW METHOD of establishing property, while I, in accordance
with all precedent, call it a destruction of property. In fact, without
the appropriation of instruments, property is nothing.

“Hitherto, we have confined ourselves to pointing out and combating the
despotic features of property, by considering property alone. We have
failed to see that the despotism of property is a correlative of the
division of the human race;… that property, instead of being organized
in such a way as to facilitate the unlimited communion of man with his
fellows and with the universe, has been, on the contrary, turned against
this communion.”

Let us translate this into commercial phraseology. In order to destroy
despotism and the inequality of conditions, men must cease from
competition and must associate their interests. Let employer and employed
(now enemies and rivals) become associates.

Now, ask any manufacturer, merchant, or capitalist, whether he would
consider himself a proprietor if he were to share his revenue and profits
with this mass of wage-laborers whom it is proposed to make his
associates.

“Family, property, and country are finite things, which ought to be
organized with a view to the infinite. For man is a finite being, who
aspires to the infinite. To him, absolute finiteness is evil. The infinite
is his aim, the indefinite his right.”

Few of my readers would understand these hierophantic words, were I to
leave them unexplained. M. Leroux means, by this magnificent formula, that
humanity is a single immense society, which, in its collective unity,
represents the infinite; that every nation, every tribe, every commune,
and every citizen are, in different degrees, fragments or finite members
of the infinite society, the evil in which results solely from
individualism and privilege,—in other words, from the subordination
of the infinite to the finite; finally, that, to attain humanity’s end and
aim, each part has a right to an indefinitely progressive development.

“All the evils which afflict the human race arise from caste. The family
is a blessing; the family caste (the nobility) is an evil. Country is a
blessing; the country caste (supreme, domineering, conquering) is an evil;
property (individual possession) is a blessing; the property caste (the
domain of property of Pothier, Toullier, Troplong, &c.) is an evil.”

Thus, according to M. Leroux, there is property and property,—the
one good, the other bad. Now, as it is proper to call different things by
different names, if we keep the name “property” for the former, we must
call the latter robbery, rapine, brigandage. If, on the contrary, we
reserve the name “property” for the latter, we must designate the former
by the term POSSESSION, or some other equivalent; otherwise we should be
troubled with an unpleasant synonymy.

What a blessing it would be if philosophers, daring for once to say all
that they think, would speak the language of ordinary mortals! Nations and
rulers would derive much greater profit from their lectures, and, applying
the same names to the same ideas, would come, perhaps, to understand each
other. I boldly declare that, in regard to property, I hold no other
opinion than that of M. Leroux; but, if I should adopt the style of the
philosopher, and repeat after him, “Property is a blessing, but the
property caste—the statu quo of property—is an evil,” I
should be extolled as a genius by all the bachelors who write for the
reviews. 70
If, on the contrary, I prefer the classic language of Rome and the civil
code, and say accordingly, “Possession is a blessing, but property is
robbery,” immediately the aforesaid bachelors raise a hue and cry against
the monster, and the judge threatens me. Oh, the power of language!

“Le National,” on the other hand, has laughed at M. Leroux and his ideas
on property, charging him with TAUTOLOGY and CHILDISHNESS. “Le National”
does not wish to understand. Is it necessary to remind this journal that
it has no right to deride a dogmatic philosopher, because it is without a
doctrine itself? From its foundation, “Le National” has been a nursery of
intriguers and renegades. From time to time it takes care to warn its
readers. Instead of lamenting over all its defections, the democratic
sheet would do better to lay the blame on itself, and confess the
shallowness of its theories. When will this organ of popular interests and
the electoral reform cease to hire sceptics and spread doubt? I will
wager, without going further, that M. Leon Durocher, the critic of M.
Leroux, is an anonymous or pseudonymous editor of some bourgeois, or even
aristocratic, journal.

The economists, questioned in their turn, propose to associate capital and
labor. You know, sir, what that means. If we follow out the doctrine, we
soon find that it ends in an absorption of property, not by the community,
but by a general and indissoluble commandite, so that the condition of the
proprietor would differ from that of the workingman only in receiving
larger wages. This system, with some peculiar additions and
embellishments, is the idea of the phalanstery. But it is clear that, if
inequality of conditions is one of the attributes of property, it is not
the whole of property. That which makes property a DELIGHTFUL THING, as
some philosopher (I know not who) has said, is the power to dispose at
will, not only of one’s own goods, but of their specific nature; to use
them at pleasure; to confine and enclose them; to excommunicate mankind,
as M. Pierre Leroux says; in short, to make such use of them as passion,
interest, or even caprice, may suggest. What is the possession of money, a
share in an agricultural or industrial enterprise, or a government-bond
coupon, in comparison with the infinite charm of being master of one’s
house and grounds, under one’s vine and fig-tree? “Beati possidentes!”
says an author quoted by M. Troplong. Seriously, can that be applied to a
man of income, who has no other possession under the sun than the market,
and in his pocket his money? As well maintain that a trough is a coward. A
nice method of reform! They never cease to condemn the thirst for gold,
and the growing individualism of the century; and yet, most inconceivable
of contradictions, they prepare to turn all kinds of property into one,—property
in coin.

I must say something further of a theory of property lately put forth with
some ado: I mean the theory of M. Considerant.

The Fourierists are not men who examine a doctrine in order to ascertain
whether it conflicts with their system. On the contrary, it is their
custom to exult and sing songs of triumph whenever an adversary passes
without perceiving or noticing them.

These gentlemen want direct refutations, in order that, if they are
beaten, they may have, at least, the selfish consolation of having been
spoken of. Well, let their wish be gratified.

M. Considerant makes the most lofty pretensions to logic. His method of
procedure is always that of MAJOR, MINOR, AND CONCLUSION. He would
willingly write upon his hat, “Argumentator in barbara.” But M.
Considerant is too intelligent and quick-witted to be a good logician, as
is proved by the fact that he appears to have taken the syllogism for
logic.

The syllogism, as everybody knows who is interested in philosophical
curiosities, is the first and perpetual sophism of the human mind,—the
favorite tool of falsehood, the stumbling-block of science, the advocate
of crime. The syllogism has produced all the evils which the fabulist so
eloquently condemned, and has done nothing good or useful: it is as devoid
of truth as of justice. We might apply to it these words of Scripture: “Celui
qui met en lui sa confiance, perira.” Consequently, the best
philosophers long since condemned it; so that now none but the enemies of
reason wish to make the syllogism its weapon.

M. Considerant, then, has built his theory of property upon a syllogism.
Would he be disposed to stake the system of Fourier upon his arguments, as
I am ready to risk the whole doctrine of equality upon my refutation of
that system? Such a duel would be quite in keeping with the warlike and
chivalric tastes of M. Considerant, and the public would profit by it;
for, one of the two adversaries falling, no more would be said about him,
and there would be one grumbler less in the world.

The theory of M. Considerant has this remarkable feature, that, in
attempting to satisfy at the same time the claims of both laborers and
proprietors, it infringes alike upon the rights of the former and the
privileges of the latter. In the first place, the author lays it down as a
principle: “1. That the use of the land belongs to each member of the
race; that it is a natural and imprescriptible right, similar in all
respects to the right to the air and the sunshine. 2. That the right to
labor is equally fundamental, natural, and imprescriptible.” I have shown
that the recognition of this double right would be the death of property.
I denounce M. Considerant to the proprietors!

But M. Considerant maintains that the right to labor creates the right of
property, and this is the way he reasons:—

Major Premise.—”Every man legitimately possesses the thing which his
labor, his skill,—or, in more general terms, his action,—has
created.”

To which M. Considerant adds, by way of comment: “Indeed, the land not
having been created by man, it follows from the fundamental principle of
property, that the land, being given to the race in common, can in no wise
be the exclusive and legitimate property of such and such individuals, who
were not the creators of this value.”

If I am not mistaken, there is no one to whom this proposition, at first
sight and in its entirety, does not seem utterly irrefutable. Reader,
distrust the syllogism.

First, I observe that the words LEGITIMATELY POSSESSES signify to the
author’s mind is LEGITIMATE PROPRIETOR; otherwise the argument,
being intended to prove the legitimacy of property, would have no meaning.
I might here raise the question of the difference between property and
possession, and call upon M. Considerant, before going further, to define
the one and the other; but I pass on.

This first proposition is doubly false. 1. In that it asserts the act of
CREATION to be the only basis of property. 2. In that it regards this act
as sufficient in all cases to authorize the right of property.

And, in the first place, if man may be proprietor of the game which he
does not create, but which he KILLS; of the fruits which he does not
create, but which he GATHERS; of the vegetables which he does not create,
but which he PLANTS; of the animals which he does not create, but which he
REARS,—it is conceivable that men may in like manner become
proprietors of the land which they do not create, but which they clear and
fertilize. The act of creation, then, is not NECESSARY to the acquisition
of the right of property. I say further, that this act alone is not always
sufficient, and I prove it by the second premise of M. Considerant:—

Minor Premise.—”Suppose that on an isolated island, on the soil of a
nation, or over the whole face of the earth (the extent of the scene of
action does not affect our judgment of the facts), a generation of human
beings devotes itself for the first time to industry, agriculture,
manufactures, &c. This generation, by its labor, intelligence, and
activity, creates products, develops values which did not exist on the
uncultivated land. Is it not perfectly clear that the property of this
industrious generation will stand on a basis of right, if the value or
wealth produced by the activity of all be distributed among the producers,
according to each one’s assistance in the creation of the general wealth?
That is unquestionable.”

That is quite questionable. For this value or wealth, PRODUCED BY THE
ACTIVITY OF ALL, is by the very fact of its creation COLLECTIVE wealth,
the use of which, like that of the land, may be divided, but which as
property remains UNDIVIDED. And why this undivided ownership? Because the
society which creates is itself indivisible,—a permanent unit,
incapable of reduction to fractions. And it is this unity of society which
makes the land common property, and which, as M. Considerant says, renders
its use imprescriptible in the case of every individual. Suppose, indeed,
that at a given time the soil should be equally divided; the very next
moment this division, if it allowed the right of property, would become
illegitimate. Should there be the slightest irregularity in the method of
transfer, men, members of society, imprescriptible possessors of the land,
might be deprived at one blow of property, possession, and the means of
production. In short, property in capital is indivisible, and consequently
inalienable, not necessarily when the capital is UNCREATED, but when it is
COMMON or COLLECTIVE.

I confirm this theory against M. Considerant, by the third term of his
syllogism:—

Conclusion.—”The results of the labor performed by this generation
are

divisible into two classes, between which it is important clearly to
distinguish. The first class includes the products of the soil which
belong to this first generation in its usufructuary capacity, augmented,
improved and refined by its labor and industry. These products consist
either of objects of consumption or instruments of labor. It is clear that
these products are the legitimate property of those who have created them
by their activity…. Second class.—Not only has this generation
created the products just mentioned (objects of consumption and
instruments of labor), but it has also added to the original value of the
soil by cultivation, by the erection of buildings, by all the labor
producing permanent results, which it has performed. This additional value
evidently constitutes a product—a value created by the activity of
the first generation; and if, BY ANY MEANS WHATEVER, the ownership of this
value be distributed among the members of society equitably,—that
is, in proportion to the labor which each has performed,—each will
legitimately possess the portion which he receives. He may then dispose of
this legitimate and private property as he sees fit,—exchange it,
give it away, or transfer it; and no other individual, or collection of
other individuals,—that is, society,—can lay any claim to
these values.”

Thus, by the distribution of collective capital, to the use of which each
associate, either in his own right or in right of his authors, has an
imprescriptible and undivided title, there will be in the phalanstery, as
in the France of 1841, the poor and the rich; some men who, to live in
luxury, have only, as Figaro says, to take the trouble to be born, and
others for whom the fortune of life is but an opportunity for
long-continued poverty; idlers with large incomes, and workers whose
fortune is always in the future; some privileged by birth and caste, and
others pariahs whose sole civil and political rights are THE RIGHT TO
LABOR, AND THE RIGHT TO LAND. For we must not be deceived; in the
phalanstery every thing will be as it is to-day, an object of property,—machines,
inventions, thought, books, the products of art, of agriculture, and of
industry; animals, houses, fences, vineyards, pastures, forests, fields,—every
thing, in short, except the UNCULTIVATED LAND. Now, would you like to know
what uncultivated land is worth, according to the advocates of property?
“A square league hardly suffices for the support of a savage,” says M.
Charles Comte. Estimating the wretched subsistence of this savage at three
hundred francs per year, we find that the square league necessary to his
life is, relatively to him, faithfully represented by a rent of fifteen
francs. In France there are twenty-eight thousand square leagues, the
total rent of which, by this estimate, would be four hundred and twenty
thousand francs, which, when divided among nearly thirty-four millions of
people, would give each an INCOME OF A CENTIME AND A QUARTER. That is the
new right which the great genius of Fourier has invented IN BEHALF OF THE
FRENCH PEOPLE, and with which his first disciple hopes to reform the
world. I denounce M. Considerant to the proletariat!

If the theory of M. Considerant would at least really guarantee this
property which he cherishes so jealously, I might pardon him the flaws in
his syllogism, certainly the best one he ever made in his life. But, no:
that which M. Considerant takes for property is only a privilege of extra
pay. In Fourier’s system, neither the created capital nor the increased
value of the soil are divided and appropriated in any effective manner:
the instruments of labor, whether created or not, remain in the hands of
the phalanx; the pretended proprietor can touch only the income. He is
permitted neither to realize his share of the stock, nor to possess it
exclusively, nor to administer it, whatever it be. The cashier throws him
his dividend; and then, proprietor, eat the whole if you can!

The system of Fourier would not suit the proprietors, since it takes away
the most delightful feature of property,—the free disposition of
one’s goods. It would please the communists no better, since it involves
unequal conditions. It is repugnant to the friends of free association and
equality, in consequence of its tendency to wipe out human character and
individuality by suppressing possession, family, and country,—the
threefold expression of the human personality.

Of all our active publicists, none seem to me more fertile in resources,
richer in imagination, more luxuriant and varied in style, than M.
Considerant. Nevertheless, I doubt if he will undertake to reestablish his
theory of property. If he has this courage, this is what I would say to
him: “Before writing your reply, consider well your plan of action; do not
scour the country; have recourse to none of your ordinary expedients; no
complaints of civilization; no sarcasms upon equality; no glorification of
the phalanstery. Leave Fourier and the departed in peace, and endeavor
only to re-adjust the pieces of your syllogism. To this end, you ought,
first, to analyze closely each proposition of your adversary; second, to
show the error, either by a direct refutation, or by proving the converse;
third, to oppose argument to argument, so that, objection and reply
meeting face to face, the stronger may break down the weaker, and shiver
it to atoms. By that method only can you boast of having conquered, and
compel me to regard you as an honest reasoner, and a good artillery-man.”

I should have no excuse for tarrying longer with these phalansterian
crotchets, if the obligation which I have imposed upon myself of making a
clean sweep, and the necessity of vindicating my dignity as a writer, did
not prevent me from passing in silence the reproach uttered against me by
a correspondent of “La Phalange.” “We have seen but lately,” says this
journalist, 71 “that M. Proudhon, enthusiast as
he has been for the science created by Fourier, is, or will be, an
enthusiast for any thing else whatsoever.”

If ever sectarians had the right to reproach another for changes in his
beliefs, this right certainly does not belong to the disciples of Fourier,
who are always so eager to administer the phalansterian baptism to the
deserters of all parties. But why regard it as a crime, if they are
sincere? Of what consequence is the constancy or inconstancy of an
individual to the truth which is always the same? It is better to
enlighten men’s minds than to teach them to be obstinate in their
prejudices. Do we not know that man is frail and fickle, that his heart is
full of delusions, and that his lips are a distillery of falsehood? Omnis
homo meudax. Whether we will or no, we all serve for a time as
instruments of this truth, whose kingdom comes every day.

God alone is immutable, because he is eternal.

That is the reply which, as a general rule, an honest man is entitled
always to make, and which I ought perhaps to be content to offer as an
excuse; for I am no better than my fathers. But, in a century of doubt and
apostasy like ours, when it is of importance to set the small and the weak
an example of strength and honesty of utterance, I must not suffer my
character as a public assailant of property to be dishonored. I must
render an account of my old opinions.

Examining myself, therefore, upon this charge of Fourierism, and
endeavoring to refresh my memory, I find that, having been connected with
the Fourierists in my studies and my friendships, it is possible that,
without knowing it, I have been one of Fourier’s partisans. Jerome Lalande
placed Napoleon and Jesus Christ in his catalogue of atheists. The
Fourierists resemble this astronomer: if a man happens to find fault with
the existing civilization, and to admit the truth of a few of their
criticisms, they straightway enlist him, willy-nilly, in their school.
Nevertheless, I do not deny that I have been a Fourierist; for, since they
say it, of course it may be so. But, sir, that of which my ex-associates
are ignorant, and which doubtless will astonish you, is that I have been
many other things,—in religion, by turns a Protestant, a Papist, an
Arian and Semi-Arian, a Manichean, a Gnostic, an Adamite even and a
Pre-Adamite, a Sceptic, a Pelagian, a Socinian, an Anti-Trinitarian, and a
Neo-Christian; 72 in philosophy and politics, an
Idealist, a Pantheist, a Platonist, a Cartesian, an Eclectic (that is, a
sort of juste-milieu), a Monarchist, an Aristocrat, a
Constitutionalist, a follower of Babeuf, and a Communist. I have wandered
through a whole encyclopaedia of systems. Do you think it surprising, sir,
that, among them all, I was for a short time a Fourierist?

For my part, I am not at all surprised, although at present I have no
recollection of it. One thing is sure,—that my superstition and
credulity reached their height at the very period of my life which my
critics reproachfully assign as the date of my Fourieristic beliefs. Now I
hold quite other views. My mind no longer admits that which is
demonstrated by syllogisms, analogies, or metaphors, which are the methods
of the phalanstery, but demands a process of generalization and induction
which excludes error. Of my past OPINIONSS I retain absolutely none. I
have acquired some KNOWLEDGE. I no longer BELIEVE. I either KNOW, or am
IGNORANT. In a word, in seeking for the reason of things, I saw that I was
a RATIONALIST.

Undoubtedly, it would have been simpler to begin where I have ended. But
then, if such is the law of the human mind; if all society, for six
thousand years, has done nothing but fall into error; if all mankind are
still buried in the darkness of faith, deceived by their prejudices and
passions, guided only by the instinct of their leaders; if my accusers,
themselves, are not free from sectarianism (for they call themselves
FOURIERISTS),—am I alone inexcusable for having, in my inner self,
at the secret tribunal of my conscience, begun anew the journey of our
poor humanity?

I would by no means, then, deny my errors; but, sir, that which
distinguishes me from those who rush into print is the fact that, though
my thoughts have varied much, my writings do not vary. To-day, even, and
on a multitude of questions, I am beset by a thousand extravagant and
contradictory opinions; but my opinions I do not print, for the public has
nothing to do with them. Before addressing my fellow-men, I wait until
light breaks in upon the chaos of my ideas, in order that what I may say
may be, not the whole truth (no man can know that), but nothing but the
truth.

This singular disposition of my mind to first identify itself with a
system in order to better understand it, and then to reflect upon it in
order to test its legitimacy, is the very thing which disgusted me with
Fourier, and ruined in my esteem the societary school. To be a faithful
Fourierist, in fact, one must abandon his reason and accept every thing
from a master,—doctrine, interpretation, and application. M.
Considerant, whose excessive intolerance anathematizes all who do not
abide by his sovereign decisions, has no other conception of Fourierism.
Has he not been appointed Fourier’s vicar on earth and pope of a Church
which, unfortunately for its apostles, will never be of this world?
Passive belief is the theological virtue of all sectarians, especially of
the Fourierists.

Now, this is what happened to me. While trying to demonstrate by argument
the religion of which I had become a follower in studying Fourier, I
suddenly perceived that by reasoning I was becoming incredulous; that on
each article of the creed my reason and my faith were at variance, and
that my six weeks’ labor was wholly lost. I saw that the Fourierists—in
spite of their inexhaustible gabble, and their extravagant pretension to
decide in all things—were neither savants, nor logicians, nor even
believers; that they were SCIENTIFIC QUACKS, who were led more by their
self-love than their conscience to labor for the triumph of their sect,
and to whom all means were good that would reach that end. I then
understood why to the Epicureans they promised women, wine, music, and a
sea of luxury; to the rigorists, maintenance of marriage, purity of
morals, and temperance; to laborers, high wages; to proprietors, large
incomes; to philosophers, solutions the secret of which Fourier alone
possessed; to priests, a costly religion and magnificent festivals; to
savants, knowledge of an unimaginable nature; to each, indeed, that which
he most desired. In the beginning, this seemed to me droll; in the end, I
regarded it as the height of impudence. No, sir; no one yet knows of the
foolishness and infamy which the phalansterian system contains. That is a
subject which I mean to treat as soon as I have balanced my accounts with
property. 73

It is rumored that the Fourierists think of leaving France and going to
the new world to found a phalanstery. When a house threatens to fall, the
rats scamper away; that is because they are rats. Men do better; they
rebuild it. Not long since, the St. Simonians, despairing of their country
which paid no heed to them, proudly shook the dust from their feet, and
started for the Orient to fight the battle of free woman. Pride,
wilfulness, mad selfishness! True charity, like true faith, does not
worry, never despairs; it seeks neither its own glory, nor its interest,
nor empire; it does every thing for all, speaks with indulgence to the
reason and the will, and desires to conquer only by persuasion and
sacrifice. Remain in France, Fourierists, if the progress of humanity is
the only thing which you have at heart! There is more to do here than in
the new world. Otherwise, go! you are nothing but liars and hypocrites!

The foregoing statement by no means embraces all the political elements,
all the opinions and tendencies, which threaten the future of property;
but it ought to satisfy any one who knows how to classify facts, and to
deduce their law or the idea which governs them. Existing society seems
abandoned to the demon of falsehood and discord; and it is this sad sight
which grieves so deeply many distinguished minds who lived too long in a
former age to be able to understand ours. Now, while the short-sighted
spectator begins to despair of humanity, and, distracted and cursing that
of which he is ignorant, plunges into scepticism and fatalism, the true
observer, certain of the spirit which governs the world, seeks to
comprehend and fathom Providence. The memoir on “Property,” published last
year by the pensioner of the Academy of Besancon, is simply a study of
this nature.

The time has come for me to relate the history of this unlucky treatise,
which has already caused me so much chagrin, and made me so unpopular; but
which was on my part so involuntary and unpremeditated, that I would dare
to affirm that there is not an economist, not a philosopher, not a jurist,
who is not a hundred times guiltier than I. There is something so singular
in the way in which I was led to attack property, that if, on hearing my
sad story, you persist, sir, in your blame, I hope at least you will be
forced to pity me.

I never have pretended to be a great politician; far from that, I always
have felt for controversies of a political nature the greatest aversion;
and if, in my “Essay on Property,” I have sometimes ridiculed our
politicians, believe, sir, that I was governed much less by my pride in
the little that I know, than by my vivid consciousness of their ignorance
and excessive vanity. Relying more on Providence than on men; not
suspecting at first that politics, like every other science, contained an
absolute truth; agreeing equally well with Bossuet and Jean Jacques,—I
accepted with resignation my share of human misery, and contented myself
with praying to God for good deputies, upright ministers, and an honest
king. By taste as well as by discretion and lack of confidence in my
powers, I was slowly pursuing some commonplace studies in philology,
mingled with a little metaphysics, when I suddenly fell upon the greatest
problem that ever has occupied philosophical minds: I mean the criterion
of certainty.

Those of my readers who are unacquainted with the philosophical
terminology will be glad to be told in a few words what this criterion is,
which plays so great a part in my work.

The criterion of certainty, according to the philosophers, will be, when
discovered, an infallible method of establishing the truth of an opinion,
a judgment, a theory, or a system, in nearly the same way as gold is
recognized by the touchstone, as iron approaches the magnet, or, better
still, as we verify a mathematical operation by applying the PROOF. TIME
has hitherto served as a sort of criterion for society. Thus, the
primitive men—having observed that they were not all equal in
strength, beauty, and labor—judged, and rightly, that certain ones
among them were called by nature to the performance of simple and common
functions; but they concluded, and this is where their error lay, that
these same individuals of duller intellect, more restricted genius, and
weaker personality, were predestined to SERVE the others; that is, to
labor while the latter rested, and to have no other will than theirs: and
from this idea of a natural subordination among men sprang domesticity,
which, voluntarily accepted at first, was imperceptibly converted into
horrible slavery. Time, making this error more palpable, has brought about
justice. Nations have learned at their own cost that the subjection of man
to man is a false idea, an erroneous theory, pernicious alike to master
and to slave. And yet such a social system has stood several thousand
years, and has been defended by celebrated philosophers; even to-day,
under somewhat mitigated forms, sophists of every description uphold and
extol it. But experience is bringing it to an end.

Time, then, is the criterion of societies; thus looked at, history is the
demonstration of the errors of humanity by the argument reductio ad
absurdum.

Now, the criterion sought for by metaphysicians would have the advantage
of discriminating at once between the true and the false in every opinion;
so that in politics, religion, and morals, for example, the true and the
useful being immediately recognized, we should no longer need to await the
sorrowful experience of time. Evidently such a secret would be death to
the sophists,—that cursed brood, who, under different names, excite
the curiosity of nations, and, owing to the difficulty of separating the
truth from the error in their artistically woven theories, lead them into
fatal ventures, disturb their peace, and fill them with such extraordinary
prejudice.

Up to this day, the criterion of certainty remains a mystery; this is
owing to the multitude of criteria that have been successively proposed.
Some have taken for an absolute and definite criterion the testimony of
the senses; others intuition; these evidence; those argument. M. Lamennais
affirms that there is no other criterion than universal reason. Before
him, M. de Bonald thought he had discovered it in language. Quite
recently, M. Buchez has proposed morality; and, to harmonize them all, the
eclectics have said that it was absurd to seek for an absolute criterion,
since there were as many criteria as special orders of knowledge.

Of all these hypotheses it may be observed, That the testimony of the
senses is not a criterion, because the senses, relating us only to
phenomena, furnish us with no ideas; that intuition needs external
confirmation or objective certainty; that evidence requires proof, and
argument verification; that universal reason has been wrong many a time;
that language serves equally well to express the true or the false; that
morality, like all the rest, needs demonstration and rule; and finally,
that the eclectic idea is the least reasonable of all, since it is of no
use to say that there are several criteria if we cannot point out one. I
very much fear that it will be with the criterion as with the
philosopher’s stone; that it will finally be abandoned, not only as
insolvable, but as chimerical. Consequently, I entertain no hopes of
having found it; nevertheless, I am not sure that some one more skilful
will not discover it.

Be it as it may with regard to a criterion or criteria, there are methods
of demonstration which, when applied to certain subjects, may lead to the
discovery of unknown truths, bring to light relations hitherto
unsuspected, and lift a paradox to the highest degree of certainty. In
such a case, it is not by its novelty, nor even by its content, that a
system should be judged, but by its method. The critic, then, should
follow the example of the Supreme Court, which, in the cases which come
before it, never examines the facts, but only the form of procedure. Now,
what is the form of procedure? A method.

I then looked to see what philosophy, in the absence of a criterion, had
accomplished by the aid of special methods, and I must say that I could
not discover—in spite of the loudly-proclaimed pretensions of some—that
it had produced any thing of real value; and, at last, wearied with the
philosophical twaddle, I resolved to make a new search for the criterion.
I confess it, to my shame, this folly lasted for two years, and I am not
yet entirely rid of it. It was like seeking a needle in a haystack. I
might have learned Chinese or Arabic in the time that I have lost in
considering and reconsidering syllogisms, in rising to the summit of an
induction as to the top of a ladder, in inserting a proposition between
the horns of a dilemma, in decomposing, distinguishing, separating,
denying, affirming, admitting, as if I could pass abstractions through a
sieve.

I selected justice as the subject-matter of my experiments. Finally, after
a thousand decompositions, recompositions, and double compositions, I
found at the bottom of my analytical crucible, not the criterion of
certainty, but a metaphysico-economico-political treatise, whose
conclusions were such that I did not care to present them in a more
artistic or, if you will, more intelligible form. The effect which this
work produced upon all classes of minds gave me an idea of the spirit of
our age, and did not cause me to regret the prudent and scientific
obscurity of my style. How happens it that to-day I am obliged to defend
my intentions, when my conduct bears the evident impress of such lofty
morality?

You have read my work, sir, and you know the gist of my tedious and
scholastic lucubrations. Considering the revolutions of humanity, the
vicissitudes of empires, the transformations of property, and the
innumerable forms of justice and of right, I asked, “Are the evils which
afflict us inherent in our condition as men, or do they arise only from an
error? This inequality of fortunes which all admit to be the cause of
society’s embarrassments, is it, as some assert, the effect of Nature; or,
in the division of the products of labor and the soil, may there not have
been some error in calculation? Does each laborer receive all that is due
him, and only that which is due him? In short, in the present conditions
of labor, wages, and exchange, is no one wronged?—are the accounts
well kept?—is the social balance accurate?”

Then I commenced a most laborious investigation. It was necessary to
arrange informal notes, to discuss contradictory titles, to reply to
captious allegations, to refute absurd pretensions, and to describe
fictitious debts, dishonest transactions, and fraudulent accounts. In
order to triumph over quibblers, I had to deny the authority of custom, to
examine the arguments of legislators, and to oppose science with science
itself. Finally, all these operations completed, I had to give a judicial
decision.

I therefore declared, my hand upon my heart, before God and men, that the
causes of social inequality are three in number: 1. GRATUITOUS
APPROPRIATION OF COLLECTIVE WEALTH; 2. INEQUALITY IN EXCHANGE; 3. THE
RIGHT OF PROFIT OR INCREASE.

And since this threefold method of extortion is the very essence of the
domain of property, I denied the legitimacy of property, and proclaimed
its identity with robbery.

That is my only offence. I have reasoned upon property; I have searched
for the criterion of justice; I have demonstrated, not the possibility,
but the necessity, of equality of fortunes; I have allowed myself no
attack upon persons, no assault upon the government, of which I, more than
any one else, am a provisional adherent. If I have sometimes used the word
PROPRIETOR, I have used it as the abstract name of a metaphysical being,
whose reality breathes in every individual,—not alone in a
privileged few.

Nevertheless, I acknowledge—for I wish my confession to be sincere—that
the general tone of my book has been bitterly censured. They complain of
an atmosphere of passion and invective unworthy of an honest man, and
quite out of place in the treatment of so grave a subject.

If this reproach is well founded (which it is impossible for me either to
deny or admit, because in my own cause I cannot be judge),—if, I
say, I deserve this charge, I can only humble myself and acknowledge
myself guilty of an involuntary wrong; the only excuse that I could offer
being of such a nature that it ought not to be communicated to the public.
All that I can say is, that I understand better than any one how the anger
which injustice causes may render an author harsh and violent in his
criticisms. When, after twenty years of labor, a man still finds himself
on the brink of starvation, and then suddenly discovers in an
equivocation, an error in calculation, the cause of the evil which
torments him in common with so many millions of his fellows, he can
scarcely restrain a cry of sorrow and dismay.

But, sir, though pride be offended by my rudeness, it is not to pride that
I apologize, but to the proletaires, to the simple-minded, whom I perhaps
have scandalized. My angry dialectics may have produced a bad effect on
some peaceable minds. Some poor workingman—more affected by my
sarcasm than by the strength of my arguments—may, perhaps, have
concluded that property is the result of a perpetual Machiavelianism on
the part of the governors against the governed,—a deplorable error
of which my book itself is the best refutation. I devoted two chapters to
showing how property springs from human personality and the comparison of
individuals. Then I explained its perpetual limitation; and, following out
the same idea, I predicted its approaching disappearance. How, then, could
the editors of the “Revue Democratique,” after having borrowed from me
nearly the whole substance of their economical articles, dare to say: “The
holders of the soil, and other productive capital, are more or less wilful
accomplices in a vast robbery, they being the exclusive receivers and
sharers of the stolen goods”?

The proprietors WILFULLY guilty of the crime of robbery! Never did that
homicidal phrase escape my pen; never did my heart conceive the frightful
thought. Thank Heaven! I know not how to calumniate my kind; and I have
too strong a desire to seek for the reason of things to be willing to
believe in criminal conspiracies. The millionnaire is no more tainted by
property than the journeyman who works for thirty sous per day. On both
sides the error is equal, as well as the intention. The effect is also the
same, though positive in the former, and negative in the latter. I accused
property; I did not denounce the proprietors, which would have been
absurd: and I am sorry that there are among us wills so perverse and minds
so shattered that they care for only so much of the truth as will aid them
in their evil designs. Such is the only regret which I feel on account of
my indignation, which, though expressed perhaps too bitterly, was at least
honest, and legitimate in its source.

However, what did I do in this essay which I voluntarily submitted to the
Academy of Moral Sciences? Seeking a fixed axiom amid social
uncertainties, I traced back to one fundamental question all the secondary
questions over which, at present, so keen and diversified a conflict is
raging This question was the right of property. Then, comparing all
existing theories with each other, and extracting from them that which is
common to them all, I endeavored to discover that element in the idea of
property which is necessary, immutable, and absolute; and asserted, after
authentic verification, that this idea is reducible to that of INDIVIDUAL
AND TRANSMISSIBLE POSSESSION; SUSCEPTIBLE OF EXCHANGE, BUT NOT OF
ALIENATION; FOUNDED ON LABOR, AND NOT ON FICTITIOUS OCCUPANCY, OR IDLE
CAPRICE. I said, further, that this idea was the result of our
revolutionary movements,—the culminating point towards which all
opinions, gradually divesting themselves of their contradictory elements,
converge. And I tried to demonstrate this by the spirit of the laws, by
political economy, by psychology and history.

A Father of the Church, finishing a learned exposition of the Catholic
doctrine, cried, in the enthusiasm of his faith, “Domine, si error est,
a te decepti sumus (if my religion is false, God is to blame).” I, as
well as this theologian, can say, “If equality is a fable, God, through
whom we act and think and are; God, who governs society by eternal laws,
who rewards just nations, and punishes proprietors,—God alone is the
author of evil; God has lied. The fault lies not with me.”

But, if I am mistaken in my inferences, I should be shown my error, and
led out of it. It is surely worth the trouble, and I think I deserve this
honor. There is no ground for proscription.

For, in the words of that member of the Convention who did not like the
guillotine, to kill is not to reply. Until then, I persist in
regarding my work as useful, social, full of instruction for public
officials,—worthy, in short, of reward and encouragement.

For there is one truth of which I am profoundly convinced,—nations
live by absolute ideas, not by approximate and partial conceptions;
therefore, men are needed who define principles, or at least test them in
the fire of controversy. Such is the law,—the idea first, the pure
idea, the understanding of the laws of God, the theory: practice follows
with slow steps, cautious, attentive to the succession of events; sure to
seize, towards this eternal meridian, the indications of supreme reason.

The co-operation of theory and practice produces in humanity the
realization of order,—the absolute truth. 74

All of us, as long as we live, are called, each in proportion to his
strength, to this sublime work. The only duty which it imposes upon us is
to refrain from appropriating the truth to ourselves, either by concealing
it, or by accommodating it to the temper of the century, or by using it
for our own interests. This principle of conscience, so grand and so
simple, has always been present in my thought.

Consider, in fact, sir, that which I might have done, but did not wish to
do. I reason on the most honorable hypothesis. What hindered me from
concealing, for some years to come, the abstract theory of the equality of
fortunes, and, at the same time, from criticising constitutions and codes;
from showing the absolute and the contingent, the immutable and the
ephemeral, the eternal and the transitory, in laws present and past; from
constructing a new system of legislation, and establishing on a solid
foundation this social edifice, ever destroyed and as often rebuilt? Might
I not, taking up the definitions of casuists, have clearly shown the cause
of their contradictions and uncertainties, and supplied, at the same time,
the inadequacies of their conclusions? Might I not have confirmed this
labor by a vast historical exposition, in which the principle of
exclusion, and of the accumulation of property, the appropriation of
collective wealth, and the radical vice in exchanges, would have figured
as the constant causes of tyranny, war, and revolution?

“It should have been done,” you say. Do not doubt, sir, that such a task
would have required more patience than genius. With the principles of
social economy which I have analyzed, I would have had only to break the
ground, and follow the furrow. The critic of laws finds nothing more
difficult than to determine justice: the labor alone would have been
longer. Oh, if I had pursued this glittering prospect, and, like the man
of the burning bush, with inspired countenance and deep and solemn voice,
had presented myself some day with new tables, there would have been found
fools to admire, boobies to applaud, and cowards to offer me the
dictatorship; for, in the way of popular infatuations, nothing is
impossible.

But, sir, after this monument of insolence and pride, what should I have
deserved in your opinion, at the tribunal of God, and in the judgment of
free men? Death, sir, and eternal reprobation!

I therefore spoke the truth as soon as I saw it, waiting only long enough
to give it proper expression. I pointed out error in order that each might
reform himself, and render his labors more useful. I announced the
existence of a new political element, in order that my associates in
reform, developing it in concert, might arrive more promptly at that unity
of principles which alone can assure to society a better day. I expected
to receive, if not for my book, at least for my commendable conduct, a
small republican ovation. And, behold! journalists denounce me,
academicians curse me, political adventurers (great God!) think to make
themselves tolerable by protesting that they are not like me! I give the
formula by which the whole social edifice may be scientifically
reconstructed, and the strongest minds reproach me for being able only to
destroy. The rest despise me, because I am unknown. When the “Essay on
Property” fell into the reformatory camp, some asked: “Who has spoken? Is
it Arago? Is it Lamennais? Michel de Bourges or Garnier-Pages?”

And when they heard the name of a new man: “We do not know him,” they
would reply. Thus, the monopoly of thought, property in reason, oppresses
the proletariat as well as the bourgeoisie. The worship of the
infamous prevails even on the steps of the tabernacle.

But what am I saying? May evil befall me, if I blame the poor creatures!
Oh! let us not despise those generous souls, who in the excitement of
their patriotism are always prompt to identify the voice of their chiefs
with the truth. Let us encourage rather their simple credulity, enlighten
complacently and tenderly their precious sincerity, and reserve our shafts
for those vain-glorious spirits who are always admiring their genius, and,
in different tongues, caressing the people in order to govern them.

These considerations alone oblige me to reply to the strange and
superficial conclusions of the “Journal du Peuple” (issue of Oct. 11,
1840), on the question of property. I leave, therefore, the journalist to
address myself only to his readers. I hope that the self-love of the
writer will not be offended, if, in the presence of the masses, I ignore
an individual.

You say, proletaires of the “Peuple,” “For the very reason that men and
things exist, there always will be men who will possess things; nothing,
therefore, can destroy property.”

In speaking thus, you unconsciously argue exactly after the manner of M.
Cousin, who always reasons from possession to PROPERTY. This
coincidence, however, does not surprise me. M. Cousin is a philosopher of
much mind, and you, proletaires, have still more. Certainly it is
honorable, even for a philosopher, to be your companion in error.

Originally, the word PROPERTY was synonymous with PROPER or INDIVIDUAL
POSSESSION. It designated each individual’s special right to the use of a
thing. But when this right of use, inert (if I may say so) as it was with
regard to the other usufructuaries, became active and paramount,—that
is, when the usufructuary converted his right to personally use the thing
into the right to use it by his neighbor’s labor,—then property
changed its nature, and its idea became complex. The legists knew this
very well, but instead of opposing, as they ought, this accumulation of
profits, they accepted and sanctioned the whole. And as the right of
farm-rent necessarily implies the right of use,—in other words, as
the right to cultivate land by the labor of a slave supposes one’s power
to cultivate it himself, according to the principle that the greater
includes the less,—the name property was reserved to designate this
double right, and that of possession was adopted to designate the right of
use.

Whence property came to be called the perfect right, the right of domain,
the eminent right, the heroic or quiritaire right,—in Latin,
jus perfectum, jus optimum, jus quiritarium, jus dominii,—while
possession became assimilated to farm-rent.

Now, that individual possession exists of right, or, better, from natural
necessity, all philosophers admit, and can easily e demonstrated; but
when, in imitation of M. Cousin, we assume it to be the basis of the
domain of property, we fall into the sophism called sophisma
amphiboliae vel ambiguitatis, which consists in changing the meaning
by a verbal equivocation.

People often think themselves very profound, because, by the aid of
expressions of extreme generality, they appear to rise to the height of
absolute ideas, and thus deceive inexperienced minds; and, what is worse,
this is commonly called EXAMINING ABSTRACTIONS. But the abstraction formed
by the comparison of identical facts is one thing, while that which is
deduced from different acceptations of the same term is quite another. The
first gives the universal idea, the axiom, the law; the second indicates
the order of generation of ideas. All our errors arise from the constant
confusion of these two kinds of abstractions. In this particular,
languages and philosophies are alike deficient. The less common an idiom
is, and the more obscure its terms, the more prolific is it as a source of
error: a philosopher is sophistical in proportion to his ignorance of any
method of neutralizing this imperfection in language. If the art of
correcting the errors of speech by scientific methods is ever discovered,
then philosophy will have found its criterion of certainty.

Now, then, the difference between property and possession being well
established, and it being settled that the former, for the reasons which I
have just given, must necessarily disappear, is it best, for the slight
advantage of restoring an etymology, to retain the word PROPERTY? My
opinion is that it would be very unwise to do so, and I will tell why. I
quote from the “Journal du Peuple:”—

“To the legislative power belongs the right to regulate property, to
prescribe the conditions of acquiring, possessing, and transmitting it…
It cannot be denied that inheritance, assessment, commerce, industry,
labor, and wages require the most important modifications.”

You wish, proletaires, to REGULATE PROPERTY; that is, you wish to destroy
it and reduce it to the right of possession. For to regulate property
without the consent of the proprietors is to deny the right OF DOMAIN; to
associate employees with proprietors is to destroy the EMINENT right; to
suppress or even reduce farm-rent, house-rent, revenue, and increase
generally, is to annihilate PERFECT property. Why, then, while laboring
with such laudable enthusiasm for the establishment of equality, should
you retain an expression whose equivocal meaning will always be an
obstacle in the way of your success?

There you have the first reason—a wholly philosophical one—for
rejecting not only the thing, but the name, property. Here now is the
political, the highest reason.

Every social revolution—M. Cousin will tell you—is effected
only by the realization of an idea, either political, moral, or religious.
When Alexander conquered Asia, his idea was to avenge Greek liberty
against the insults of Oriental despotism; when Marius and Caesar
overthrew the Roman patricians, their idea was to give bread to the
people; when Christianity revolutionized the world, its idea was to
emancipate mankind, and to substitute the worship of one God for the
deities of Epicurus and Homer; when France rose in ’89, her idea was
liberty and equality before the law. There has been no true revolution,
says M. Cousin, with out its idea; so that where an idea does not exist,
or even fails of a formal expression, revolution is impossible. There are
mobs, conspirators, rioters, regicides. There are no revolutionists.
Society, devoid of ideas, twists and tosses about, and dies in the midst
of its fruitless labor.

Nevertheless, you all feel that a revolution is to come, and that you
alone can accomplish it. What, then, is the idea which governs you,
proletaires of the nineteenth century?—for really I cannot call you
revolutionists. What do you think?—what do you believe?—what
do you want? Be guarded in your reply. I have read faithfully your
favorite journals, your most esteemed authors. I find everywhere only vain
and puerile entites; nowhere do I discover an idea.

I will explain the meaning of this word entite,—new, without
doubt, to most of you.

By entite is generally understood a substance which the imagination
grasps, but which is incognizable by the senses and the reason. Thus the
SOPORIFIC POWER of opium, of which Sganarelle speaks, and the PECCANT
HUMORS of ancient medicine, are entites. The entite is the
support of those who do not wish to confess their ignorance. It is
incomprehensible; or, as St. Paul says, the argumentum non apparentium.
In philosophy, the entite is often only a repetition of words which
add nothing to the thought.

For example, when M. Pierre Leroux—who says so many excellent
things, but who is too fond, in my opinion, of his Platonic formulas—assures
us that the evils of humanity are due to our IGNORANCE OF LIFE, M. Pierre
Leroux utters an entite; for it is evident that if we are evil it
is because we do not know how to live; but the knowledge of this fact is
of no value to us.

When M. Edgar Quinet declares that France suffers and declines because
there is an ANTAGONISM of men and of interests, he declares an entite;
for the problem is to discover the cause of this antagonism.

When M. Lamennais, in thunder tones, preaches self-sacrifice and love, he
proclaims two entites; for we need to know on what conditions
self-sacrifice and love can spring up and exist.

So also, proletaires, when you talk of LIBERTY, PROGRESS, and THE
SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE, you make of these naturally intelligible things
so many entites in space: for, on the one hand, we need a new
definition of liberty, since that of ’89 no longer suffices; and, on the
other, we must know in what direction society should proceed in order to
be in progress. As for the sovereignty of the people, that is a grosser entite
than the sovereignty of reason; it is the entite of entites.
In fact, since sovereignty can no more be conceived of outside of the
people than outside of reason, it remains to be ascertained who, among the
people, shall exercise the sovereignty; and, among so many minds, which
shall be the sovereigns. To say that the people should elect their
representatives is to say that the people should recognize their
sovereigns, which does not remove the difficulty at all.

But suppose that, equal by birth, equal before the law, equal in
personality, equal in social functions, you wish also to be equal in
conditions.

Suppose that, perceiving all the mutual relations of men, whether they
produce or exchange or consume, to be relations of commutative justice,—in
a word, social relations; suppose, I say, that, perceiving this, you wish
to give this natural society a legal existence, and to establish the fact
by law,—

I say that then you need a clear, positive, and exact expression of your
whole idea,—that is, an expression which states at once the
principle, the means, and the end; and I add that that expression is
ASSOCIATION.

And since the association of the human race dates, at least rightfully,
from the beginning of the world, and has gradually established and
perfected itself by successively divesting itself of its negative
elements, slavery, nobility, despotism, aristocracy, and feudalism,—I
say that, to eliminate the last negation of society, to formulate the last
revolutionary idea, you must change your old rallying-cries, NO MORE
ABSOLUTISM, NO MORE NOBILITY, NO MORE SLAVES! into that of NO MORE
PROPERTY!…

But I know what astonishes you, poor souls, blasted by the wind of
poverty, and crushed by your patrons’ pride: it is EQUALITY, whose
consequences frighten you. How, you have said in your journal,—how
can we “dream of a level which, being unnatural, is therefore unjust? How
shall we pay the day’s labor of a Cormenin or a Lamennais?”

Plebeians, listen! When, after the battle of Salamis, the Athenians
assembled to award the prizes for courage, after the ballots had been
collected, it was found that each combatant had one vote for the first
prize, and Themistocles all the votes for the second. The people of
Minerva were crowned by their own hands. Truly heroic souls! all were
worthy of the olive-branch, since all had ventured to claim it for
themselves. Antiquity praised this sublime spirit. Learn, proletaires, to
esteem yourselves, and to respect your dignity. You wish to be free, and
you know not how to be citizens. Now, whoever says “citizens” necessarily
says equals.

If I should call myself Lamennais or Cormenin, and some journal, speaking
of me, should burst forth with these hyperboles, INCOMPARABLE GENIUS,
SUPERIOR MIND, CONSUMMATE VIRTUE, NOBLE CHARACTER, I should not like it,
and should complain,—first, because such eulogies are never
deserved; and, second, because they furnish a bad example. But I wish, in
order to reconcile you to equality, to measure for you the greatest
literary personage of our century. Do not accuse me of envy, proletaires,
if I, a defender of equality, estimate at their proper value talents which
are universally admired, and which I, better than any one, know how to
recognize. A dwarf can always measure a giant: all that he needs is a
yardstick.

You have seen the pretentious announcements of “L’Esquisse d’une
Philosophie,” and you have admired the work on trust; for either you have
not read it, or, if you have, you are incapable of judging it. Acquaint
yourselves, then, with this speculation more brilliant than sound; and,
while admiring the enthusiasm of the author, cease to pity those useful
labors which only habit and the great number of the persons engaged in
them render contemptible. I shall be brief; for, notwithstanding the
importance of the subject and the genius of the author, what I have to say
is of but little moment.

M. Lamennais starts with the existence of God. How does he demonstrate it?
By Cicero’s argument,—that is, by the consent of the human race.
There is nothing new in that. We have still to find out whether the belief
of the human race is legitimate; or, as Kant says, whether our subjective
certainty of the existence of God corresponds with the objective truth.
This, however, does not trouble M. Lamennais. He says that, if the human
race believes, it is because it has a reason for believing.

Then, having pronounced the name of God, M. Lamennais sings a hymn; and
that is his demonstration!

This first hypothesis admitted, M. Lamennais follows it with a second;
namely, that there are three persons in God. But, while Christianity
teaches the dogma of the Trinity only on the authority of revelation, M.
Lamennais pretends to arrive at it by the sole force of argument; and he
does not perceive that his pretended demonstration is, from beginning to
end, anthropomorphism,—that is, an ascription of the faculties of
the human mind and the powers of nature to the Divine substance. New
songs, new hymns!

God and the Trinity thus DEMONSTRATED, the philosopher passes to the
creation,—a third hypothesis, in which M. Lamennais, always
eloquent, varied, and sublime, DEMONSTRATES that God made the world
neither of nothing, nor of something, nor of himself; that he was free in
creating, but that nevertheless he could not but create; that there is in
matter a matter which is not matter; that the archetypal ideas of the
world are separated from each other, in the Divine mind, by a division
which is obscure and unintelligible, and yet substantial and real, which
involves intelligibility, &c. We meet with like contradictions
concerning the origin of evil. To explain this problem,—one of the
profoundest in philosophy,—M. Lamennais at one time denies evil, at
another makes God the author of evil, and at still another seeks outside
of God a first cause which is not God,—an amalgam of entites
more or less incoherent, borrowed from Plato, Proclus, Spinoza, I might
say even from all philosophers.

Having thus established his trinity of hypotheses, M. Lamennais deduces
therefrom, by a badly connected chain of analogies, his whole philosophy.
And it is here especially that we notice the syncretism which is peculiar
to him. The theory of M. Lamennais embraces all systems, and supports all
opinions. Are you a materialist? Suppress, as useless entites, the
three persons in God; then, starting directly from heat, light, and
electro-magnetism,—which, according to the author, are the three
original fluids, the three primary external manifestations of Will,
Intelligence, and Love,—you have a materialistic and atheistic
cosmogony. On the contrary, are you wedded to spiritualism? With the
theory of the immateriality of the body, you are able to see everywhere
nothing but spirits. Finally, if you incline to pantheism, you will be
satisfied by M. Lamennais, who formally teaches that the world is not an
EMANATION from Divinity,—which is pure pantheism,—but a FLOW
of Divinity.

I do not pretend, however, to deny that “L’Esquisse” contains some
excellent things; but, by the author’s declaration, these things are not
original with him; it is the system which is his. That is undoubtedly the
reason why M. Lamennais speaks so contemptuously of his predecessors in
philosophy, and disdains to quote his originals. He thinks that, since
“L’Esquisse” contains all true philosophy, the world will lose nothing
when the names and works of the old philosophers perish. M. Lamennais, who
renders glory to God in beautiful songs, does not know how as well to
render justice to his fellows. His fatal fault is this appropriation of
knowledge, which the theologians call the PHILOSOPHICAL SIN, or the SIN
AGAINST THE HOLY GHOST—a sin which will not damn you, proletaires,
nor me either.

In short, “L’Esquisse,” judged as a system, and divested of all which its
author borrows from previous systems, is a commonplace work, whose method
consists in constantly explaining the known by the unknown, and in giving
entites for abstractions, and tautologies for proofs. Its whole theodicy
is a work not of genius but of imagination, a patching up of neo-Platonic
ideas. The psychological portion amounts to nothing, M. Lamennais openly
ridiculing labors of this character, without which, however, metaphysics
is impossible. The book, which treats of logic and its methods, is weak,
vague, and shallow. Finally, we find in the physical and physiological
speculations which M. Lamennais deduces from his trinitarian cosmogony
grave errors, the preconceived design of accommodating facts to theory,
and the substitution in almost every case of hypothesis for reality. The
third volume on industry and art is the most interesting to read, and the
best. It is true that M. Lamennais can boast of nothing but his style. As
a philosopher, he has added not a single idea to those which existed
before him.

Why, then, this excessive mediocrity of M. Lamennais considered as a
thinker, a mediocrity which disclosed itself at the time of the
publication of the “Essai sur l’Indifference!”? It is because (remember
this well, proletaires!) Nature makes no man truly complete, and because
the development of certain faculties almost always excludes an equal
development of the opposite faculties; it is because M. Lamennais is
preeminently a poet, a man of feeling and sentiment. Look at his style,—exuberant,
sonorous, picturesque, vehement, full of exaggeration and invective,—and
hold it for certain that no man possessed of such a style was ever a true
metaphysician. This wealth of expression and illustration, which everybody
admires, becomes in M Lamennais the incurable cause of his philosophical
impotence. His flow of language, and his sensitive nature misleading his
imagination, he thinks that he is reasoning when he is only repeating
himself, and readily takes a description for a logical deduction. Hence
his horror of positive ideas, his feeble powers of analysis, his
pronounced taste for indefinite analogies, verbal abstractions,
hypothetical generalities, in short, all sorts of entites.

Further, the entire life of M. Lamennais is conclusive proof of his
anti-philosophical genius. Devout even to mysticism, an ardent
ultramontane, an intolerant theocrat, he at first feels the double
influence of the religious reaction and the literary theories which marked
the beginning of this century, and falls back to the middle ages and
Gregory VII.; then, suddenly becoming a progressive Christian and a
democrat, he gradually leans towards rationalism, and finally falls into
deism. At present, everybody waits at the trap-door. As for me, though I
would not swear to it, I am inclined to think that M. Lamennais, already
taken with scepticism, will die in a state of indifference. He owes to
individual reason and methodical doubt this expiation of his early essays.

It has been pretended that M. Lamennais, preaching now a theocracy, now
universal democracy, has been always consistent; that, under different
names, he has sought invariably one and the same thing,—unity.
Pitiful excuse for an author surprised in the very act of contradiction!
What would be thought of a man who, by turns a servant of despotism under
Louis XVI, a demagogue with Robespierre, a courtier of the Emperor, a
bigot during fifteen years of the Restoration, a conservative since 1830,
should dare to say that he ever had wished for but one thing,—public
order? Would he be regarded as any the less a renegade from all parties?
Public order, unity, the world’s welfare, social harmony, the union of the
nations,—concerning each of these things there is no possible
difference of opinion. Everybody wishes them; the character of the
publicist depends only upon the means by which he proposes to arrive at
them. But why look to M. Lamennais for a steadfastness of opinion, which
he himself repudiates? Has he not said, “The mind has no law; that which I
believe to-day, I did not believe yesterday; I do not know that I shall
believe it to-morrow”?

No; there is no real superiority among men, since all talents and
capacities are combined never in one individual. This man has the power of
thought, that one imagination and style, still another industrial and
commercial capacity. By our very nature and education, we possess only
special aptitudes which are limited and confined, and which become
consequently more necessary as they gain in depth and strength. Capacities
are to each other as functions and persons; who would dare to classify
them in ranks? The finest genius is, by the laws of his existence and
development, the most dependent upon the society which creates him. Who
would dare to make a god of the glorious child?

“It is not strength which makes the man,” said a Hercules of the
market-place to the admiring crowd; “it is character.” That man, who had
only his muscles, held force in contempt. The lesson is a good one,
proletaires; we should profit by it. It is not talent (which is also a
force), it is not knowledge, it is not beauty which makes the man. It is
heart, courage, will, virtue. Now, if we are equal in that which makes us
men, how can the accidental distribution of secondary faculties detract
from our manhood?

Remember that privilege is naturally and inevitably the lot of the weak;
and do not be misled by the fame which accompanies certain talents whose
greatest merit consists in their rarity, and a long and toilsome
apprenticeship. It is easier for M. Lamennais to recite a philippic, or
sing a humanitarian ode after the Platonic fashion, than to discover a
single useful truth; it is easier for an economist to apply the laws of
production and distribution than to write ten lines in the style of M.
Lamennais; it is easier for both to speak than to act. You, then, who put
your hands to the work, who alone truly create, why do you wish me to
admit your inferiority? But, what am I saying?

Yes, you are inferior, for you lack virtue and will! Ready for labor and
for battle, you have, when liberty and equality are in question, neither
courage nor character!

In the preface to his pamphlet on “Le Pays et le Gouvernement,” as well as
in his defence before the jury, M. Lamennais frankly declared himself an
advocate of property. Out of regard for the author and his misfortune, I
shall abstain from characterizing this declaration, and from examining
these two sorrowful performances. M. Lamennais seems to be only the tool
of a quasi-radical party, which flatters him in order to use him, without
respect for a glorious, but hence forth powerless, old age. What means
this profession of faith? From the first number of “L’Avenir” to
“L’Esquisse d’une Philosophie,” M. Lamennais always favors equality,
association, and even a sort of vague and indefinite communism. M.
Lamennais, in recognizing the right of property, gives the lie to his past
career, and renounces his most generous tendencies. Can it, then, be true
that in this man, who has been too roughly treated, but who is also too
easily flattered, strength of talent has already outlived strength of
will?

It is said that M. Lamennais has rejected the offers of several of his
friends to try to procure for him a commutation of his sentence. M.
Lamennais prefers to serve out his time. May not this affectation of a
false stoicism come from the same source as his recognition of the right
of property? The Huron, when taken prisoner, hurls insults and threats at
his conqueror,—that is the heroism of the savage; the martyr prays
for his executioners, and is willing to receive from them his life,—that
is the heroism of the Christian. Why has the apostle of love become an
apostle of anger and revenge? Has, then, the translator of “L’Imitation”
forgotten that he who offends charity cannot honor virtue? Galileo,
retracting on his knees before the tribunal of the inquisition his heresy
in regard to the movement of the earth, and recovering at that price his
liberty, seems to me a hundred times grander than M. Lamennais. What! if
we suffer for truth and justice, must we, in retaliation, thrust our
persecutors outside the pale of human society; and, when sentenced to an
unjust punishment, must we decline exemption if it is offered to us,
because it pleases a few base satellites to call it a pardon? Such is not
the wisdom of Christianity. But I forgot that in the presence of M.
Lamennais this name is no longer pronounced. May the prophet of “L’Avenir”
be soon restored to liberty and his friends; but, above all, may he
henceforth derive his inspiration only from his genius and his heart!

O proletaires, proletaires! how long are you to be victimized by this
spirit of revenge and implacable hatred which your false friends kindle,
and which, perhaps, has done more harm to the development of reformatory
ideas than the corruption, ignorance, and malice of the government?
Believe me, at the present time everybody is to blame. In fact, in
intention, or in example, all are found wanting; and you have no right to
accuse any one. The king himself (God forgive me! I do not like to justify
a king),—the king himself is, like his predecessors, only the
personification of an idea, and an idea, proletaires, which possesses you
yet. His greatest wrong consists in wishing for its complete realization,
while you wish it realized only partially,—consequently, in being
logical in his government; while you, in your complaints, are not at all
so. You clamor for a second regicide. He that is without sin among you,—let
him cast at the prince of property the first stone!

How successful you would have been if, in order to influence men, you had
appealed to the self-love of men,—if, in order to alter the
constitution and the law, you had placed yourselves within the
constitution and the law! Fifty thousand laws, they say, make up our
political and civil codes. Of these fifty thousand laws, twenty-five
thousand are for you, twenty-five thousand against you. Is it not clear
that your duty is to oppose the former to the latter, and thus, by the
argument of contradiction, drive privilege into its last ditch? This
method of action is henceforth the only useful one, being the only moral
and rational one.

For my part, if I had the ear of this nation, to which I am attached by
birth and predilection, with no intention of playing the leading part in
the future republic, I would instruct the laboring masses to conquer
property through institutions and judicial pleadings; to seek auxiliaries
and accomplices in the highest ranks of society, and to ruin all
privileged classes by taking advantage of their common desire for power
and popularity.

The petition for the electoral reform has already received two hundred
thousand signatures, and the illustrious Arago threatens us with a
million. Surely, that will be well done; but from this million of
citizens, who are as willing to vote for an emperor as for equality, could
we not select ten thousand signatures—I mean bona fide signatures—whose
authors can read, write, cipher, and even think a little, and whom we
could invite, after due perusal and verbal explanation, to sign such a
petition as the following:—

“TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE MINISTER OF THE INTERIOR:—

“MONSIEUR LE MINISTRE,—On the day when a royal ordinance, decreeing
the establishment of model national workshops, shall appear in the
‘Moniteur,’ the undersigned, to the number of TEN THOUSAND, will repair to
the Palace of the Tuileries, and there, with all the power of their lungs,
will shout, ‘Long live Louis Philippe!’

“On the day when the ‘Moniteur’ shall inform the public that this petition
is refused, the undersigned, to the number of TEN THOUSAND, will say
secretly in their hearts, ‘Down with Louis Philippe!'”

If I am not mistaken, such a petition would have some effect. 75
The pleasure of a popular ovation would be well worth the sacrifice of a
few millions. They sow so much to reap unpopularity! Then, if the nation,
its hopes of 1830 restored, should feel it its duty to keep its promise,—and
it would keep it, for the word of the nation is, like that of God, sacred,—if,
I say, the nation, reconciled by this act with the public-spirited
monarchy, should bear to the foot of the throne its cheers and its vows,
and should at that solemn moment choose me to speak in its name, the
following would be the substance of my speech:—

“SIRE,—This is what the nation wishes to say to your Majesty:—

“O King! you see what it costs to gain the applause of the citizens. Would
you like us henceforth to take for our motto: ‘Let us help the King, the
King will help us’? Do you wish the people to cry: ‘THE KING AND THE
FRENCH NATION’? Then abandon these grasping bankers, these quarrelsome
lawyers, these miserable bourgeois, these infamous writers, these
dishonored men. All these, Sire, hate you, and continue to support you
only because they fear us. Finish the work of our kings; wipe out
aristocracy and privilege; consult with these faithful proletaires, with
the nation, which alone can honor a sovereign and sincerely shout, ‘Long
live the king!'”

The rest of what I have to say, sir, is for you alone; others would not
understand me. You are, I perceive, a republican as well as an economist,
and your patriotism revolts at the very idea of addressing to the
authorities a petition in which the government of Louis Philippe should be
tacitly recognized. “National workshops! it were well to have such
institutions established,” you think; “but patriotic hearts never will
accept them from an aristocratic ministry, nor by the courtesy of a king.”
Already, undoubtedly, your old prejudices have returned, and you now
regard me only as a sophist, as ready to flatter the powers that be as to
dishonor, by pushing them to an extreme, the principles of equality and
universal fraternity.

What shall I say to you?… That I should so lightly compromise the future
of my theories, either this clever sophistry which is attributed to me
must be at bottom a very trifling affair, or else my convictions must be
so firm that they deprive me of free-will.

But, not to insist further on the necessity of a compromise between the
executive power and the people, it seems to me, sir, that, in doubting my
patriotism, you reason very capriciously, and that your judgments are
exceedingly rash. You, sir, ostensibly defending government and property,
are allowed to be a republican, reformer, phalansterian, any thing you
wish; I, on the contrary, demanding distinctly enough a slight reform in
public economy, am foreordained a conservative, and likewise a friend of
the dynasty. I cannot explain myself more clearly. So firm a believer am I
in the philosophy of accomplished facts and the statu quo of
governmental forms that, instead of destroying that which exists and
beginning over again the past, I prefer to render every thing legitimate
by correcting it. It is true that the corrections which I propose, though
respecting the form, tend to finally change the nature of the things
corrected. Who denies it? But it is precisely that which constitutes my
system of statu quo. I make no war upon symbols, figures, or
phantoms. I respect scarecrows, and bow before bugbears. I ask, on the one
hand, that property be left as it is, but that interest on all kinds of
capital be gradually lowered and finally abolished; on the other hand,
that the charter be maintained in its present shape, but that method be
introduced into administration and politics. That is all. Nevertheless,
submitting to all that is, though not satisfied with it, I endeavor to
conform to the established order, and to render unto Caesar the things
that are Caesar’s. Is it thought, for instance, that I love property?…
Very well; I am myself a proprietor and do homage to the right of
increase, as is proved by the fact that I have creditors to whom I
faithfully pay, every year, a large amount of interest. The same with
politics. Since we are a monarchy, I would cry, “LONG LIVE THE KING,”
rather than suffer death; which does not prevent me, however, from
demanding that the irremovable, inviolable, and hereditary representative
of the nation shall act with the proletaires against the privileged
classes; in a word, that the king shall become the leader of the radical
party. Thereby we proletaires would gain every thing; and I am sure that,
at this price, Louis Philippe might secure to his family the perpetual
presidency of the republic. And this is why I think so.

If there existed in France but one great functional inequality, the duty
of the functionary being, from one end of the year to the other, to hold
full court of savants, artists, soldiers, deputies, inspectors, &c.,
it is evident that the expenses of the presidency then would be the
national expenses; and that, through the reversion of the civil list to
the mass of consumers, the great inequality of which I speak would form an
exact equation with the whole nation. Of this no economist needs a
demonstration. Consequently, there would be no more fear of cliques,
courtiers, and appanages, since no new inequality could be established.
The king, as king, would have friends (unheard-of thing), but no family.
His relatives or kinsmen,—agnats et cognats,—if they
were fools, would be nothing to him; and in no case, with the exception of
the heir apparent, would they have, even in court, more privileges than
others. No more nepotism, no more favor, no more baseness. No one would go
to court save when duty required, or when called by an honorable
distinction; and as all conditions would be equal and all functions
equally honored, there would be no other emulation than that of merit and
virtue. I wish the king of the French could say without shame, “My brother
the gardener, my sister-in-law the milk-maid, my son the prince-royal, and
my son the blacksmith.” His daughter might well be an artist. That would
be beautiful, sir; that would be royal; no one but a buffoon could fail to
understand it.

In this way, I have come to think that the forms of royalty may be made to
harmonize with the requirements of equality, and have given a monarchical
form to my republican spirit. I have seen that France contains by no means
as many democrats as is generally supposed, and I have compromised with
the monarchy. I do not say, however, that, if France wanted a republic, I
could not accommodate myself equally well, and perhaps better. By nature,
I hate all signs of distinction, crosses of honor, gold lace, liveries,
costumes, honorary titles, &c., and, above all, parades. If I had my
way, no general should be distinguished from a soldier, nor a peer of
France from a peasant. Why have I never taken part in a review? for I am
happy to say, sir, that I am a national guard; I have nothing else in the
world but that. Because the review is always held at a place which I do
not like, and because they have fools for officers whom I am compelled to
obey. You see,—and this is not the best of my history,—that,
in spite of my conservative opinions, my life is a perpetual sacrifice to
the republic.

Nevertheless, I doubt if such simplicity would be agreeable to French
vanity, to that inordinate love of distinction and flattery which makes
our nation the most frivolous in the world. M. Lamartine, in his grand
“Meditation on Bonaparte,” calls the French A NATION OF BRUTUSES. We are
merely a nation of Narcissuses. Previous to ’89, we had the aristocracy of
blood; then every bourgeois looked down upon the commonalty, and wished to
be a nobleman. Afterwards, distinction was based on wealth, and the
bourgeoisie jealous of the nobility, and proud of their money, used 1830
to promote, not liberty by any means, but the aristocracy of wealth. When,
through the force of events, and the natural laws of society, for the
development of which France offers such free play, equality shall be
established in functions and fortunes, then the beaux and the belles, the
savants and the artists, will form new classes. There is a universal and
innate desire in this Gallic country for fame and glory. We must have
distinctions, be they what they may,—nobility, wealth, talent,
beauty, or dress. I suspect MM. Arage and Garnier-Pages of having
aristocratic manners, and I picture to myself our great journalists, in
their columns so friendly to the people, administering rough kicks to the
compositors in their printing offices.

“This man,” once said “Le National” in speaking of Carrel, “whom we had
proclaimed FIRST CONSUL!… Is it not true that the monarchical principle
still lives in the hearts of our democrats, and that they want universal
suffrage in order to make themselves kings? Since “Le National” prides
itself on holding more fixed opinions than “Le Journal des Debats,” I
presume that, Armand Carrel being dead, M. Armand Marrast is now first
consul, and M. Garnier-Pages second consul. In every thing the deputy must
give way to the journalist. I do not speak of M. Arago, whom I believe to
be, in spite of calumny, too learned for the consulship. Be it so. Though
we have consuls, our position is not much altered. I am ready to yield my
share of sovereignty to MM. Armand Marrast and Garnier-Pages, the
appointed consuls, provided they will swear on entering upon the duties of
their office, to abolish property and not be haughty.

Forever promises! Forever oaths! Why should the people trust in tribunes,
when kings perjure themselves? Alas! truth and honesty are no longer, as
in the days of King John, in the mouth of princes. A whole senate has been
convicted of felony, and, the interest of the governors always being, for
some mysterious reason, opposed to the interest of the governed,
parliaments follow each other while the nation dies of hunger. No, no! No
more protectors, no more emperors, no more consuls. Better manage our
affairs ourselves than through agents. Better associate our industries
than beg from monopolies; and, since the republic cannot dispense with
virtues, we should labor for our reform.

This, therefore, is my line of conduct. I preach emancipation to the
proletaires; association to the laborers; equality to the wealthy. I push
forward the revolution by all means in my power,—the tongue, the
pen, the press, by action, and example. My life is a continual
apostleship.

Yes, I am a reformer; I say it as I think it, in good faith, and that I
may be no longer reproached for my vanity. I wish to convert the world.
Very likely this fancy springs from an enthusiastic pride which may have
turned to delirium; but it will be admitted at least that I have plenty of
company, and that my madness is not monomania. At the present day,
everybody wishes to be reckoned among the lunatics of Beranger. To say
nothing of the Babeufs, the Marats, and the Robespierres, who swarm in our
streets and workshops, all the great reformers of antiquity live again in
the most illustrious personages of our time. One is Jesus Christ, another
Moses, a third Mahomet; this is Orpheus, that Plato, or Pythagoras.
Gregory VII., himself, has risen from the grave together with the
evangelists and the apostles; and it may turn out that even I am that
slave who, having escaped from his master’s house, was forthwith made a
bishop and a reformer by St. Paul. As for the virgins and holy women, they
are expected daily; at present, we have only Aspasias and courtesans.

Now, as in all diseases, the diagnostic varies according to the
temperament, so my madness has its peculiar aspects and distinguishing
characteristic.

Reformers, as a general thing, are jealous of their role; they suffer no
rivals, they want no partners; they have disciples, but no co-laborers. It
is my desire, on the contrary, to communicate my enthusiasm, and to make
it, as far as I can, epidemic. I wish that all were, like myself,
reformers, in order that there might be no more sects; and that Christs,
Anti-Christs, and false Christs might be forced to understand and agree
with each other.

Again, every reformer is a magician, or at least desires to become one.
Thus Moses, Jesus Christ, and the apostles, proved their mission by
miracles. Mahomet ridiculed miracles after having endeavored to perform
them. Fourier, more cunning, promises us wonders when the globe shall be
covered with phalansteries. For myself, I have as great a horror of
miracles as of authorities, and aim only at logic. That is why I
continually search after the criterion of certainty. I work for the
reformation of ideas. Little matters it that they find me dry and austere.
I mean to conquer by a bold struggle, or die in the attempt; and whoever
shall come to the defence of property, I swear that I will force him to
argue like M. Considerant, or philosophize like M. Troplong.

Finally,—and it is here that I differ most from my compeers,—I
do not believe it necessary, in order to reach equality, to turn every
thing topsy-turvy. To maintain that nothing but an overturn can lead to
reform is, in my judgment, to construct a syllogism, and to look for the
truth in the regions of the unknown. Now, I am for generalization,
induction, and progress. I regard general disappropriation as impossible:
attacked from that point, the problem of universal association seems to me
insolvable. Property is like the dragon which Hercules killed: to destroy
it, it must be taken, not by the head, but by the tail,—that is, by
profit and interest.

I stop. I have said enough to satisfy any one who can read and understand.
The surest way by which the government can baffle intrigues and break up
parties is to take possession of science, and point out to the nation, at
an already appreciable distance, the rising oriflamme of equality; to say
to those politicians of the tribune and the press, for whose fruitless
quarrels we pay so dearly, “You are rushing forward, blind as you are, to
the abolition of property; but the government marches with its eyes open.
You hasten the future by unprincipled and insincere controversy; but the
government, which knows this future, leads you thither by a happy and
peaceful transition. The present generation will not pass away before
France, the guide and model of civilized nations, has regained her rank
and legitimate influence.”

But, alas! the government itself,—who shall enlighten it? Who can
induce it to accept this doctrine of equality, whose terrible but decisive
formula the most generous minds hardly dare to acknowledge?… I feel my
whole being tremble when I think that the testimony of three men—yes,
of three men who make it their business to teach and define—would
suffice to give full play to public opinion, to change beliefs, and to fix
destinies. Will not the three men be found?…

May we hope, or not? What must we think of those who govern us? In the
world of sorrow in which the proletaire moves, and where nothing is known
of the intentions of power, it must be said that despair prevails. But
you, sir,—you, who by function belong to the official world; you, in
whom the people recognize one of their noblest friends, and property its
most prudent adversary,—what say you of our deputies, our ministers,
our king? Do you believe that the authorities are friendly to us? Then let
the government declare its position; let it print its profession of faith
in equality, and I am dumb. Otherwise, I shall continue the war; and the
more obstinacy and malice is shown, the oftener will I redouble my energy
and audacity. I have said before, and I repeat it,—I have sworn, not
on the dagger and the death’s-head, amid the horrors of a catacomb, and in
the presence of men besmeared with blood; but I have sworn on my
conscience to pursue property, to grant it neither peace nor truce, until
I see it everywhere execrated. I have not yet published half the things
that I have to say concerning the right of domain, nor the best things.
Let the knights of property, if there are any who fight otherwise than by
retreating, be prepared every day for a new demonstration and accusation;
let them enter the arena armed with reason and knowledge, not wrapped up
in sophisms, for justice will be done.

“To become enlightened, we must have liberty. That alone suffices; but it
must be the liberty to use the reason in regard to all public matters.

“And yet we hear on every hand authorities of all kinds and degrees
crying: ‘Do not reason!’

“If a distinction is wanted, here is one:—

“The PUBLIC use of the reason always should be free, but the PRIVATE use
ought always to be rigidly restricted. By public use, I mean the
scientific, literary use; by private, that which may be taken advantage of
by civil officials and public functionaries. Since the governmental
machinery must be kept in motion, in order to preserve unity and attain
our object, we must not reason; we must obey. But the same individual who
is bound, from this point of view, to passive obedience, has the right to
speak in his capacity of citizen and scholar. He can make an appeal to the
public, submit to it his observations on events which occur around him and
in the ranks above him, taking care, however, to avoid offences which are
punishable.

“Reason, then, as much as you like; only, obey.”—Kant: Fragment on
the Liberty of Thought and of the Press. Tissot’s Translation.

These words of the great philosopher outline for me my duty. I have
delayed the reprint of the work entitled “What is Property?” in order that
I might lift the discussion to the philosophical height from which
ridiculous clamor has dragged it down; and that, by a new presentation of
the question, I might dissipate the fears of good citizens. I now reenter
upon the public use of my reason, and give truth full swing. The second
edition of the First Memoir on Property will immediately follow the
publication of this letter. Before issuing any thing further, I shall
await the observations of my critics, and the co-operation of the friends
of the people and of equality.

Hitherto, I have spoken in my own name, and on my own personal
responsibility. It was my duty. I was endeavoring to call attention to
principles which antiquity could not discover, because it knew nothing of
the science which reveals them,—political economy. I have, then,
testified as to FACTS; in short, I have been a WITNESS. Now my role
changes. It remains for me to deduce the practical consequences of the
facts proclaimed. The position of PUBLIC PROSECUTOR is the only one which
I am henceforth fitted to fill, and I shall sum up the case in the name of
the PEOPLE.

I am, sir, with all the consideration that I owe to your talent and your
character,

Your very humble and most obedient servant,

P. J. PROUDHON,

Pensioner of the Academy of Besancon.

P.S. During the session of April 2, the Chamber of Deputies rejected, by a
very large majority, the literary-property bill, BECAUSE IT DID NOT
UNDERSTAND IT. Nevertheless, literary property is only a special form of
the right of property, which everybody claims to understand. Let us hope
that this legislative precedent will not be fruitless for the cause of
equality. The consequence of the vote of the Chamber is the abolition of
capitalistic property,—property incomprehensible, contradictory,
impossible, and absurd.

FOOTNOTES:

1 (return)
[ In the French edition of
Proudhon’s works, the above sketch of his life is prefixed to the first
volume of his correspondence, but the translator prefers to insert it here
as the best method of introducing the author to the American public.]

2 (return)
[ “An Inquiry into
Grammatical Classifications.” By P. J. Proudhon. A treatise which received
honorable mention from the Academy of Inscriptions, May 4, 1839. Out of
print.]

3 (return)
[ “The Utility of the
Celebration of Sunday,” &c. By P. J. Proudhon. Besancon, 1839, 12mo;
2d edition, Paris, 1841, 18mo.]

4 (return)
[ Charron, on “Wisdom,”
Chapter xviii.]

5 (return)
[ M. Vivien, Minister of
Justice, before commencing proceedings against the “Memoir upon Property,”
asked the opinion of M. Blanqui; and it was on the strength of the
observations of this honorable academician that he spared a book which had
already excited the indignation of the magistrates. M. Vivien is not the
only official to whom I have been indebted, since my first publication,
for assistance and protection; but such generosity in the political arena
is so rare that one may acknowledge it graciously and freely. I have
always thought, for my part, that bad institutions made bad magistrates;
just as the cowardice and hypocrisy of certain bodies results solely from
the spirit which governs them. Why, for instance, in spite of the virtues
and talents for which they are so noted, are the academies generally
centres of intellectual repression, stupidity, and base intrigue? That
question ought to be proposed by an academy: there would be no lack of
competitors.]

6 (return)
[ In Greek, {GREEK e ncg }
examiner; a philosopher whose business is to seek the truth.]

7 (return)
[ Religion, laws, marriage,
were the privileges of freemen, and, in the beginning, of nobles only. Dii
majorum gentium—gods of the patrician families; jus gentium—right
of nations; that is, of families or nobles. The slave and the plebeian had
no families; their children were treated as the offspring of animals.
BEASTS they were born, BEASTS they must live.]

8 (return)
[ If the chief of the
executive power is responsible, so must the deputies be also. It is
astonishing that this idea has never occurred to any one; it might be made
the subject of an interesting essay. But I declare that I would not, for
all the world, maintain it; the people are yet much too logical for me to
furnish them with arguments.]

9 (return)
[ See De Tocqueville,
“Democracy in the United States;” and Michel Chevalier, “Letters on North
America.” Plutarch tells us, “Life of Pericles,” that in Athens honest
people were obliged to conceal themselves while studying, fearing they
would be regarded as aspirants for office.]

10 (return)
[ “Sovereignty,” according
to Toullier, “is human omnipotence.” A materialistic definition: if
sovereignty is any thing, it is a RIGHT not a FORCE or a faculty. And what
is human omnipotence?]

11 (return)
[ The Proudhon here
referred to is J. B. V. Proudhon; a distinguished French jurist, and
distant relative of the Translator.]

12 (return)
[ Here, especially, the
simplicity of our ancestors appears in all its rudeness. After having made
first cousins heirs, where there were no legitimate children, they could
not so divide the property between two different branches as to prevent
the simultaneous existence of extreme wealth and extreme poverty in the
same family. For example:— James, dying, leaves two sons, Peter and
John, heirs of his fortune: James’s property is divided equally between
them. But Peter has only one daughter, while John, his brother, leaves six
sons. It is clear that, to be true to the principle of equality, and at
the same time to that of heredity, the two estates must be divided in
seven equal portions among the children of Peter and John; for otherwise a
stranger might marry Peter’s daughter, and by this alliance half of the
property of James, the grandfather, would be transferred to another
family, which is contrary to the principle of heredity. Furthermore,
John’s children would be poor on account of their number, while their
cousin, being an only child, would be rich, which is contrary to the
principle of equality. If we extend this combined application of two
principles apparently opposed to each other, we shall become convinced
that the right of succession, which is assailed with so little wisdom in
our day, is no obstacle to the maintenance of equality.]

13 (return)
[ Zeus klesios.]

14 (return)
[ Giraud, “Investigations
into the Right of Property among the Romans.”]

15 (return)
[ Precarious, from precor,
“I pray;” because the act of concession expressly signified that the lord,
in answer to the prayers of his men or slaves, had granted them permission
to labor.]

16 (return)
[ I cannot conceive how any
one dares to justify the inequality of conditions, by pointing to the base
inclinations and propensities of certain men. Whence comes this shameful
degradation of heart and mind to which so many fall victims, if not from
the misery and abjection into which property plunges them?]

17 (return)
[ How many citizens are
needed to support a professor of philosophy?—Thirty-five millions.
How many for an economist?—Two billions. And for a literary man, who
is neither a savant, nor an artist, nor a philosopher, nor an economist,
and who writes newspaper novels?—None.]

18 (return)
[ There is an error in the
author’s calculation here; but the translator, feeling sure that the
reader will understand Proudhon’s meaning, prefers not to alter his
figures.—Translator.]

19 (return)
[ Hoc inter se differunt
onanismus et manuspratio, nempe quod haec a solitario exercetur, ille
autem a duobus reciprocatur, masculo scilicet et faemina. Porro foedam
hanc onanismi venerem ludentes uxoria mariti habent nunc omnigm
suavissimam]

20 (return)
[ Polyandry,—plurality
of husbands.]

21 (return)
[ Infanticide has just been
publicly advocated in England, in a pamphlet written by a disciple of
Malthus. He proposes an ANNUAL MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS in all families
containing more children than the law allows; and he asks that a
magnificent cemetery, adorned with statues, groves, fountains, and
flowers, be set apart as a special burying-place for the superfluous
children. Mothers would resort to this delightful spot to dream of the
happiness of these little angels, and would return, quite comforted, to
give birth to others, to be buried in their turn.]

22 (return)
[ To perform an act of
benevolence towards one’s neighbor is called, in Hebrew, to do justice; in
Greek, to take compassion or pity ({GREEK n n f e },from which is derived
the French aumone); in Latin, to perform an act of love or charity;
in French, give alms. We can trace the degradation of this principle
through these various expressions: the first signifies duty; the second
only sympathy; the third, affection, a matter of choice, not an
obligation; the fourth, caprice.]

23 (return)
[ I mean here by equite
what the Latins called humanitas,— that is, the kind of sociability
which is peculiar to man. Humanity, gentle and courteous to all, knows how
to distinguish ranks, virtues, and capacities without injury to any.]

24 (return)
[ Justice and equite never
have been understood.]

25 (return)
[ Between woman and man
there may exist love, passion, ties of custom, and the like; but there is
no real society. Man and woman are not companions. The difference of the
sexes places a barrier between them, like that placed between animals by a
difference of race. Consequently, far from advocating what is now called
the emancipation of woman, I should incline, rather, if there were no
other alternative, to exclude her from society.]

26 (return)
[ “The strong-box of Cosmo
de Medici was the grave of Florentine liberty,” said M. Michelet to the
College of France.]

27 (return)
[ “My right is my lance and
my buckler.” General de Brossard said, like Achilles: “I get wine, gold,
and women with my lance and my buckler.”]

28 (return)
[ It would be interesting
and profitable to review the authors who have written on usury, or, to use
the gentler expression which some prefer, lendingat interest. The
theologians always have opposed usury; but, since they have admitted
always the legitimacy of rent, and since rent is evidently identical with
interest, they have lost themselves in a labyrinth of subtle distinctions,
and have finally reached a pass where they do not know what to think of
usury. The Church—the teacher of morality, so jealous and so proud
of the purity of her doctrine—has always been ignorant of the real
nature of property and usury. She even has proclaimed through her pontiffs
the most deplorable errors. Non potest mutuum, said Benedict XIV.,
locationi ullo pacto comparari. “Rent,” says Bossuet, “is as far
from usury as heaven is from the earth.” How, on{sic} such a doctrine,
condemn lending at interest? how justify the Gospel, which expressly
forbids usury? The difficulty of theologians is a very serious one. Unable
to refute the economical demonstrations, which rightly assimilate interest
to rent, they no longer dare to condemn interest, and they can say only
that there must be such a thing as usury, since the Gospel forbids it.]

29 (return)
[ “I preach the Gospel, I
live by the Gospel,” said the Apostle; meaning thereby that he lived by
his labor. The Catholic clergy prefer to live by property. The struggles
in the communes of the middle ages between the priests and bishops and the
large proprietors and seigneurs are famous. The papal excommunications
fulminated in defence of ecclesiastical revenues are no less so. Even
to-day, the official organs of the Gallican clergy still maintain that the
pay received by the clergy is not a salary, but an indemnity for goods of
which they were once proprietors, and which were taken from them in ’89 by
the Third Estate. The clergy prefer to live by the right of increase
rather than by labor.]

30 (return)
[ The meaning ordinarily
attached to the word “anarchy” is absence of principle, absence of rule;
consequently, it has been regarded as synonymous with “disorder.”]

31 (return)
[ If such ideas are ever
forced into the minds of the people, it will be by representative
government and the tyranny of talkers. Once science, thought, and speech
were characterized by the same expression. To designate a thoughtful and a
learned man, they said, “a man quick to speak and powerful in discourse.”
For a long time, speech has been abstractly distinguished from science and
reason. Gradually, this abstraction is becoming realized, as the logicians
say, in society; so that we have to-day savants of many kinds who talk but
little, and TALKERS who are not even savants in the science of speech.
Thus a philosopher is no longer a savant: he is a talker. Legislators and
poets were once profound and sublime characters: now they are talkers. A
talker is a sonorous bell, whom the least shock suffices to set in
perpetual motion. With the talker, the flow of speech is always directly
proportional to the poverty of thought. Talkers govern the world; they
stun us, they bore us, they worry us, they suck our blood, and laugh at
us. As for the savants, they keep silence: if they wish to say a word,
they are cut short. Let them write.]

32 (return)
[ libertas, librare,
libratio, libra,—liberty, to liberate, libration, balance
(pound),—words which have a common derivation. Liberty is the
balance of rights and duties. To make a man free is to balance him with
others,—that is, to put him or their level.]

33 (return)
[ In a monthly publication,
the first number of which has just appeared under the name of
“L’Egalitaire,” self-sacrifice is laid down as a principle of equality.
This is a confusion of ideas. Self- sacrifice, taken alone, is the last
degree of inequality. To seek equality in self-sacrifice is to confess
that equality is against nature. Equality must be based upon justice, upon
strict right, upon the principles invoked by the proprietor himself;
otherwise it will never exist. Self-sacrifice is superior to justice; but
it cannot be imposed as law, because it is of such a nature as to admit of
no reward. It is, indeed, desirable that everybody shall recognize the
necessity of self- sacrifice, and the idea of “L’Egalitaire” is an
excellent example. Unfortunately, it can have no effect. What would you
reply, indeed, to a man who should say to you, “I do not want to sacrifice
myself”? Is he to be compelled to do so? When self-sacrifice is forced, it
becomes oppression, slavery, the exploitation of man by man. Thus have the
proletaires sacrificed themselves to property.]

34 (return)
[ The disciples of Fourier
have long seemed to me the most advanced of all modern socialists, and
almost the only ones worthy of the name. If they had understood the nature
of their task, spoken to the people, awakened their sympathies, and kept
silence when they did not understand; if they had made less extravagant
pretensions, and had shown more respect for public intelligence,—perhaps
the reform would now, thanks to them, be in progress. But why are these
earnest reformers continually bowing to power and wealth,—that is,
to all that is anti- reformatory? How, in a thinking age, can they fail to
see that the world must be converted by DEMONSTRATION, not by myths and
allegories? Why do they, the deadly enemies of civilization, borrow from
it, nevertheless, its most pernicious fruits,—property, inequality
of fortune and rank, gluttony, concubinage, prostitution, what do I know?
theurgy, magic, and sorcery? Why these endless denunciations of morality,
metaphysics, and psychology, when the abuse of these sciences, which they
do not understand, constitutes their whole system? Why this mania for
deifying a man whose principal merit consisted in talking nonsense about
things whose names, even, he did not know, in the strongest language ever
put upon paper? Whoever admits the infallibility of a man becomes thereby
incapable of instructing others. Whoever denies his own reason will soon
proscribe free thought. The phalansterians would not fail to do it if they
had the power. Let them condescend to reason, let them proceed
systematically, let them give us demonstrations instead of revelations,
and we will listen willingly. Then let them organize manufactures,
agriculture, and commerce; let them make labor attractive, and the most
humble functions honorable, and our praise shall be theirs. Above all, let
them throw off that Illuminism which gives them the appearance of
impostors or dupes, rather than believers and apostles.]

35 (return)
[ Individual possession is
no obstacle to extensive cultivation and unity of exploitation. If I have
not spoken of the drawbacks arising from small estates, it is because I
thought it useless to repeat what so many others have said, and what by
this time all the world must know. But I am surprised that the economists,
who have so clearly shown the disadvantages of spade-husbandry, have
failed to see that it is caused entirely by property; above all, that they
have not perceived that their plan for mobilizing the soil is a first step
towards the abolition of property.]

36 (return)
[ In the Chamber of
Deputies, during the session of the fifth of January, 1841, M. Dufaure
moved to renew the expropriation bill, on the ground of public utility.]

37 (return)
[ “What is Property?” Chap.
IV., Ninth Proposition.]

38 (return)
[ Tu cognovisti
sessionem meam et resurrectionem meam. Psalm 139.]

39 (return)
[ The emperor Nicholas has
just compelled all the manufacturers in his empire to maintain, at their
own expense, within their establishments, small hospitals for the
reception of sick workmen,—the number of beds in each being
proportional to the number of laborers in the factory. “You profit by
man’s labor,” the Czar could have said to his proprietors; “you shall be
responsible for man’s life.” M. Blanqui has said that such a measure could
not succeed in France. It would be an attack upon property,—a thing
hardly conceivable even in Russia, Scythia, or among the Cossacks; but
among us, the oldest sons of civilization!… I fear very much that this
quality of age may prove in the end a mark of decrepitude.]

40 (return)
[ Course of M. Blanqui.
Lecture of Nov. 27,1840.]

41 (return)
[ In “Mazaniello,” the
Neapolitan fisherman demands, amid the applause of the galleries, that a
tax be levied upon luxuries.]

42 (return)
[ Seme le champ,
proletaire; C’est l l’oisif qui recoltera.]

43 (return)
[ “In some countries, the
enjoyment of certain political rights depends upon the amount of property.
But, in these same countries, property is expressive, rather than
attributive, of the qualifications necessary to the exercise of these
rights. It is rather a conjectural proof than the cause of these
qualifications.”—Rossi: Treatise on Penal Law.]

44 (return)
[ Lecture of December 22.]

45 (return)
[ Lecture of Jan. 15,
1841.]

46 (return)
[ Lecture of Jan. 15,
1841.]

47 (return)
[ MM. Blanqui and
Wolowski.]

48 (return)
[ Subject proposed by the
Fourth Class of the Institute, the Academy of Moral and Political
Sciences: “What would be the effect upon the working-class of the
organization of labor, according to the modern ideas of association?”]

49 (return)
[ Subject proposed by the
Academy of Besancon: “The economical and moral consequences in France, up
to the present time, and those which seem likely to appear in future, of
the law concerning the equal division of hereditary property between the
children.”]

50 (return)
[ {GREEK, ?n n ‘},—greater
property. The Vulgate translates it avaritia.]

51 (return)
[ Similar or analogous
customs have existed among all nations. Consult, among other works,
“Origin of French Law,” by M. Michelet; and “Antiquities of German Law,”
by Grimm.]

52 (return)
[ Dees hominesque
testamur, nos arma neque contra patriam cepisse neque quo periculum aliis
faceremus, sed uti corpora nostra ab injuria tuta forent, qui miseri,
egentes, violentia atque crudelitate foeneraterum, plerique patriae, sed
omncsfarna atque fortunis expertes sumus; neque cuiquam nostrum licuit,
more majorum, lege uti, neque, amisso patrimonio, libferum corpus habere.—Sallus:
Bellum Catilinarium.]

53 (return)
[ Fifty, sixty, and eighty
per cent.—Course of M. Blanqui.]

54 (return)
[ Episcopi plurimi, quos
et hortamento esse oportet caeteris et exemplo, divina prouratione
contempta, procuratores rerum saeularium fieri, derelicta cathedra, plebe
leserta, per alienas provincias oberrantes, negotiationis quaestuosae
nundinas au uucu-, pari, esurientibus in ecclesia fratribus habere
argentum largitur velle, fundos insidi.sis fraudibus rapere, usuris
multiplicantibus faenus augere.—Cyprian: De Lapsis. {—NOTE:
what does this refer to? This is at bottom of pg 341 in MS} In this
passage, St. Cyprian alludes to lending on mortgages and to compound
interest.]

55 (return)
[ “Inquiries concerning
Property among the Romans.”]

56 (return)
[ “Its acquisitive nature
works rapidly in the sleep of the law. It is ready, at the word, to absorb
every thing. Witness the famous equivocation about the ox-hide which, when
cut up into thongs, was large enough to enclose the site of Carthage….
The legend has reappeared several times since Dido…. Such is the love of
man for the land. Limited by tombs, measured by the members of the human
body, by the thumb, the foot, and the arm, it harmonizes, as far as
possible, with the very proportions of man. Nor is he satisfied yet: he
calls Heaven to witness that it is his; he tries to or his land, to give
it the form of heaven…. In his titanic intoxication, he describes
property in the very terms which he employs in describing the Almighty—fundus
optimus maximus…. He shall make it his couch, and they shall be
separated no more,—{GREEK, ‘ nf g h g g.”}—Michelet:Origin of
French Law.]

57 (return)
[ M. Guizot denies that
Christianity alone is entitled to the glory of the abolition of slavery.
“To this end,” he says, “many causes were necessary,—the evolution
of other ideas and other principles of civilization.” So general an
assertion cannot be refuted. Some of these ideas and causes should have
been pointed out, that we might judge whether their source was not wholly
Christian, or whether at least the Christian spirit had not penetrated and
thus fructified them. Most of the emancipation charters begin with these
words: “For the love of God and the salvation of my soul.”]

58 (return)
[ Weregild,—the
fine paid for the murder of a man. So much for a count, so much for a
baron, so much for a freeman, so much for a priest; for a slave, nothing.
His value was restored to the proprietor.]

59 (return)
[ The spirit of despotism
and monopoly which animated the communes has not escaped the attention of
historians. “The formation of the commoners’ associations,” says Meyer,
“did not spring from the true spirit of liberty, but from the desire for
exemption from the charges of the seigniors, from individual interests,
and jealousy of the welfare of others…. Each commune or corporation
opposed the creation of every other; and this spirit increased to such an
extent that the King of England, Henry V., having established a university
at Caen, in 1432, the city and university of Paris opposed the
registration of the edict.”]

60 (return)
[ Feudalism was, in spirit
and in its providential destiny, a long protest of the human personality
against the monkish communism with which Europe, in the middle ages, was
overrun. After the orgies of Pagan selfishness, society—carried to
the opposite extreme by the Christian religion—risked its life by
unlimited self-denial and absolute indifference to the pleasures of the
world. Feudalism was the balance-weight which saved Europe from the
combined influence of the religious communities and the Manlchean sects
which had sprung up since the fourth century under different names and in
different countries. Modern civilization is indebted to feudalism for the
definitive establishment of the person, of marriage, of the family, and of
country. (See, on this subject, Guizot, “History of Civilization in
Europe.”)]

61 (return)
[ This was made evident in
July, 1830, and the years which followed it, when the electoral
bourgeoisie effected a revolution in order to get control over the king,
and suppressed the emeutes in order to restrain the people. The
bourgeoisie, through the jury, the magistracy, its position in the army,
and its municipal despotism, governs both royalty and the people. It is
the bourgeoisie which, more than any other class, is conservative and
retrogressive. It is the bourgeoisie which makes and unmakes ministries.
It is the bourgeoisie which has destroyed the influence of the Upper
Chamber, and which will dethrone the King whenever he shall become
unsatisfactory to it. It is to please the bourgeoisie that royalty makes
itself unpopular. It is the bourgeoisie which is troubled at the hopes of
the people, and which hinders reform. The journals of the bourgeoisie are
the ones which preach morality and religion to us, while reserving
scepticism and indifference for themselves; which attack personal
government, and favor the denial of the electoral privilege to those who
have no property. The bourgeoisie will accept any thing rather than the
emancipation of the proletariat. As soon as it thinks its privileges
threatened, it will unite with royalty; and who does not know that at this
very moment these two antagonists have suspended their quarrels?… It has
been a question of property.]

62 (return)
[ The same opinion was
recently expressed from the tribune by one of our most honorable Deputies,
M. Gauguier. “Nature,” said he, “has not endowed man with landed
property.” Changing the adjective LANDED, which designates only a species
into CAPITALISTIC, which denotes the genus,—M. Gauguier made an
egalitaire profession of faith.]

63 (return)
[ A professor of
comparative legislation, M. Lerminier, has gone still farther. He has
dared to say that the nation took from the clergy all their possessions,
not because of IDLENESS, but because of UNWORTHINESS. “You have civilized
the world,” cries this apostle of equality, speaking to the priests; “and
for that reason your possessions were given you. In your hands they were
at once an instrument and a reward. But you do not now deserve them, for
you long since ceased to civilize any thing whatever….”]

64 (return)
[ “Treatise on
Prescription.”]

65 (return)
[ “Origin of French Law.”]

66 (return)
[ To honor one’s parents,
to be grateful to one’s benefactors, to neither kill nor steal,—truths
of inward sensation. To obey God rather than men, to render to each that
which is his; the whole is greater than a part, a straight line is the
shortest road from one point to another,—truths of intuition. All
are a priori but the first are felt by the conscience, and imply only a
simple act of the soul; the second are perceived by the reason, and imply
comparison and relation. In short, the former are sentiments, the latter
are ideas.]

67 (return)
[ Armand Carrel would have
favored the fortification of the capital. “Le National” has said, again
and again, placing the name of its old editor by the side of the names of
Napoleon and Vauban. What signifies this exhumation of an anti-popular
politician? It signifies that Armand Carrel wished to make government an
individual and irremovable, but elective, property, and that he wished
this property to be elected, not by the people, but by the army. The
political system of Carrel was simply a reorganization of the pretorian
guards. Carrel also hated the pequins. That which he deplored in
the revolution of July was not, they say, the insurrection of the people,
but the victory of the people over the soldiers. That is the reason why
Carrel, after 1830, would never support the patriots. “Do you answer me
with a few regiments?” he asked. Armand Carrel regarded the army—the
military power—as the basis of law and government. This man
undoubtedly had a moral sense within him, but he surely had no sense of
justice. Were he still in this world, I declare it boldly, liberty would
have no greater enemy than Carrel.]

68 (return)
[ In a very short article,
which was read by M. Wolowski, M. Louis Blanc declares, in substance, that
he is not a communist (which I easily believe); that one must be a fool to
attack property (but he does not say why); and that it is very necessary
to guard against confounding property with its abuses. When Voltaire
overthrew Christianity, he repeatedly avowed that he had no spite against
religion, but only against its abuses.]

69 (return)
[ The property fever is at
its height among writers and artists, and it is curious to see the
complacency with which our legislators and men of letters cherish this
devouring passion. An artist sells a picture, and then, the merchandise
delivered, assumes to prevent the purchaser from selling engravings, under
the pretext that he, the painter, in selling the original, has not sold
his DESIGN. A dispute arises between the amateur and the artist in regard
to both the fact and the law. M. Villemain, the Minister of Public
Instruction, being consulted as to this particular case, finds that the
painter is right; only the property in the design should have been
specially reserved in the contract: so that, in reality, M. Villemain
recognizes in the artist a power to surrender his work and prevent its
communication; thus contradicting the legal axiom, One CANNOT GIVE AND
KEEP AT THE SAME TIME. A strange reasoner is M. Villemain! An ambiguous
principle leads to a false conclusion. Instead of rejecting the principle,
M. Villemain hastens to admit the conclusion. With him the reductio ad
absurdum is a convincing argument. Thus he is made official defender
of literary property, sure of being understood and sustained by a set of
loafers, the disgrace of literature and the plague of public morals. Why,
then, does M. Villemain feel so strong an interest in setting himself up
as the chief of the literary classes, in playing for their benefit the
role of Trissotin in the councils of the State, and in becoming the
accomplice and associate of a band of profligates,—soi-disant
men of letters,—who for more than ten years have labored with such
deplorable success to ruin public spirit, and corrupt the heart by warping
the mind?]

70 (return)
[ M. Leroux has been highly
praised in a review for having defended property. I do not know whether
the industrious encyclopedist is pleased with the praise, but I know very
well that in his place I should mourn for reason and for truth.]

71 (return)
[ “Impartial,” of
Besancon.]

72 (return)
[ The Arians deny the
divinity of Christ. The Semi-Arians differ from the Arians only by a few
subtle distinctions. M. Pierre Leroux, who regards Jesus as a man, but
claims that the Spirit of God was infused into him, is a true Semi-Arian.

The Manicheans admit two co-existent and eternal principles,—God and
matter, spirit and flesh, light and darkness, good and evil; but, unlike
the Phalansterians, who pretend to reconcile the two, the Manicheans make
war upon matter, and labor with all their might for the destruction of the
flesh, by condemning marriage and forbidding reproduction,—which
does not prevent them, however, from indulging in all the carnal pleasures
which the intensest lust can conceive of. In this last particular, the
tendency of the Fourieristic morality is quite Manichean.

The Gnostics do not differ from the early Christians. As their name
indicates, they regarded themselves as inspired. Fourier, who held
peculiar ideas concerning the visions of somnambulists, and who believed
in the possibility of developing the magnetic power to such an extent as
to enable us to commune with invisible beings, might, if he were living,
pass also for a Gnostic.

The Adamites attend mass entirely naked, from motives of chastity. Jean
Jacques Rousseau, who took the sleep of the senses for chastity, and who
saw in modesty only a refinement of pleasure, inclined towards Adamism. I
know such a sect, whose members usually celebrate their mysteries in the
costume of Venus coming from the bath.

The Pre-Adamites believe that men existed before the first man. I once met
a Pre-Adamite. True, he was deaf and a Fourierist.

The Pelagians deny grace, and attribute all the merit of good works to
liberty. The Fourierists, who teach that man’s nature and passions are
good, are reversed Pelagians; they give all to grace, and nothing to
liberty.

The Socinians, deists in all other respects, admit an original revelation.
Many people are Socinians to-day, who do not suspect it, and who regard
their opinions as new.

The Neo-Christians are those simpletons who admire Christianity because it
has produced bells and cathedrals. Base in soul, corrupt in heart,
dissolute in mind and senses, the Neo-Christians seek especially after the
external form, and admire religion, as they love women, for its physical
beauty. They believe in a coming revelation, as well as a transfiguration
of Catholicism. They will sing masses at the grand spectacle in the
phalanstery.]

73 (return)
[ It should be understood
that the above refers only to the moral and political doctrines of
Fourier,—doctrines which, like all philosophical and religious
systems, have their root and raison d’existence in society itself,
and for this reason deserve to be examined. The peculiar speculations of
Fourier and his sect concerning cosmogony, geology, natural history,
physiology, and psychology, I leave to the attention of those who would
think it their duty to seriously refute the fables of Blue Beard and the
Ass’s Skin.]

74 (return)
[ A writer for the radical
press, M. Louis Raybaud, said, in the preface to his “Studies of
Contemporary Reformers:” “Who does not know that morality is relative?
Aside from a few grand sentiments which are strikingly instinctive, the
measure of human acts varies with nations and climates, and only
civilization—the progressive education of the race—can lead to
a universal morality…. The absolute escapes our contingent and finite
nature; the absolute is the secret of God.” God keep from evil M. Louis
Raybaud! But I cannot help remarking that all political apostates begin by
the negation of the absolute, which is really the negation of truth. What
can a writer, who professes scepticism, have in common with radical views?
What has he to say to his readers? What judgment is he entitled to pass
upon contemporary reformers? M. Raybaud thought it would seem wise to
repeat an old impertinence of the legist, and that may serve him for an
excuse. We all have these weaknesses. But I am surprised that a man of so
much intelligence as M. Raybaud, who STUDIES SYSTEMS, fails to see the
very thing he ought first to recognize,—namely, that systems are the
progress of the mind towards the absolute.]

75 (return)
[ The electoral reform, it
is continually asserted, is not an END, but a MEANS. Undoubtedly; but
what, then, is the end? Why not furnish an unequivocal explanation of its
object? How can the people choose their representatives, unless they know
in advance the purpose for which they choose them, and the object of the
commission which they entrust to them? But, it is said, the very business
of those chosen by the people is to find out the object of the reform.
That is a quibble. What is to hinder these persons, who are to be elected
in future, from first seeking for this object, and then, when they have
found it, from communicating it to the people? The reformers have well
said, that, while the object of the electoral reform remains in the least
indefinite, it will be only a means of transferring power from the hands
of petty tyrants to the hands of other tyrants. We know already how a
nation may be oppressed by being led to believe that it is obeying only
its own laws. The history of universal suffrage, among all nations, is the
history of the restrictions of liberty by and in the name of the
multitude. Still, if the electoral reform, in its present shape, were
rational, practical, acceptable to clean consciences and upright minds,
perhaps one might be excused, though ignorant of its object, for
supporting it. But, no; the text of the petition determines nothing, makes
no distinctions, requires no conditions, no guarantee; it establishes the
right without the duty. “Every Frenchman is a voter, and eligible to
office.” As well say: “Every bayonet is intelligent, every savage is
civilized, every slave is free.” In its vague generality, the reformatory
petition is the weakest of abstractions, or the highest form of political
treason. Consequently, the enlightened patriots distrust and despise each
other. The most radical writer of the time,—he whose economical and
social theories are, without comparison, the most advanced,—M.
Leroux, has taken a bold stand against universal suffrage and democratic
government, and has written an exceedingly keen criticism of J. J.
Rousseau. That is undoubtedly the reason why M. Leroux is no longer the
philosopher of “Le National.” That journal, like Napoleon, does not like
men of ideas. Nevertheless, “Le National” ought to know that he who fights
against ideas will perish by ideas.]

WHAT IS PROPERTY?

AN INQUIRY INTO THE PRINCIPLE OF RIGHT AND OF GOVERNMENT

By P. J. Proudhon

Linked Contents

P. J. PROUDHON: HIS LIFE AND HIS WORKS.