CHAPTER VI.
MASTERSHIP.
136. As in all previous discussions of our subject, we must study therelation of the commanding rich to the obeying poor in its simplestelements, in order to reach its first principles.
The simplest state of it, then, is this:[78] a wise and provident personworks much, consumes little, and lays by a store; an improvident personworks little, consumes all his produce, and lays by no store. Accidentinterrupts the daily work, or renders it less productive; the idleperson must then starve, or be supported by the provident one, who,having him thus at his mercy, may either refuse to maintain himaltogether, or, which will evidently be more to his own interest, say tohim, "I will maintain you, indeed, but you shall now work hard, insteadof indolently, and instead of being allowed to lay by what you save, asyou might have done, had you remained independent, _I_ will take all thesurplus. You would not lay it up for yourself; it is wholly your ownfault that has thrown you into my power, and I will force you to work,or starve; yet you shall have no profit of your work, only your dailybread for it; [and competition shall determine how much of that[79]]."This mode of treatment has now become so universal that it is supposedto be the only natural--nay, the only possible one; and the market wagesare calmly defined by economists as "the sum which will maintain thelabourer."
137. The power of the provident person to do this is only checked by thecorrelative power of some neighbour of similarly frugal habits, who saysto the labourer--"I will give you a little more than this otherprovident person: come and work for me."
The power of the provident over the improvident depends thus, primarily,on their relative numbers; secondarily, on the modes of agreement of theadverse parties with each other. The accidental level of wages is avariable function of the number of provident and idle persons in theworld, of the enmity between them as classes, and of the agreementbetween those of the same class. _It depends, from beginning to end, onmoral conditions._
138. Supposing the rich to be entirely selfish, _it is always for theirinterest that the poor should be as numerous as they can employ, andrestrain_. For, granting that the entire population is no larger thanthe ground can easily maintain--that the classes are stringentlydivided--and that there is sense or strength of hand enough with therich to secure obedience; then, if nine-tenths of a nation are poor, theremaining tenth have the service of nine persons each;[80] but, ifeight-tenths are poor, only of four each; if seven-tenths are poor, oftwo and a third each; if six-tenths are poor, of one and a half each;and if five-tenths are poor, of only one each. But, practically, if therich strive always to obtain more power over the poor, instead of toraise them--and if, on the other hand, the poor become continually morevicious and numerous, through neglect and oppression,--though the_range_ of the power of the rich increases, its _tenure_ becomes lesssecure; until, at last the measure of iniquity being full, revolution,civil war, or the subjection of the state to a healthier or strongerone, closes the moral corruption, and industrial disease.[81]
139. It is rarely, however, that things come to this extremity. Kindpersons among the rich, and wise among the poor, modify the connexion ofthe classes: the efforts made to raise and relieve on the one side, andthe success of honest toil on the other, bind and blend the orders ofsociety into the confused tissue of half-felt obligation,sullenly-rendered obedience, and variously-directed, or mis-directedtoil, which form the warp of daily life. But this great law rules allthe wild design: that success (while society is guided by laws ofcompetition) _signifies always so much victory over your neighbour_ asto obtain the direction of his work, and to take the profits of it._This is the real source of all great riches._ No man can become largelyrich by his personal toil.[82] The work of his own hands, wiselydirected, will indeed always maintain himself and his family, and makefitting provision for his age. _But it is only by the discovery of somemethod of taxing the labour of others that he can become opulent._ Everyincrease of his capital enables him to extend this taxation more widely;that is, to invest larger funds in the maintenance of labourers,--todirect, accordingly, vaster and yet vaster masses of labour, and toappropriate its profits.
140. There is much confusion of idea on the subject of thisappropriation. It is, of course, the interest of the employer todisguise it from the persons employed; and, for his own comfort andcomplacency, he often desires no less to disguise it from himself. Andit is matter of much doubt with me, how far the foul and foolisharguments used habitually on this subject are indeed the honestexpression of foul and foolish convictions;--or rather (as I amsometimes forced to conclude from the irritation with which they areadvanced) are resolutely dishonest, wilful, and malicious sophisms,arranged so as to mask, to the last moment, the real laws of economy,and future duties of men. By taking a simple example, and working itthoroughly out, the subject may be rescued from all but such determinedmisrepresentation.
141. Let us imagine a society of peasants, living on a rivershore,exposed to destructive inundation at somewhat extended intervals; andthat each peasant possesses of this good, but imperilled, ground, morethan he needs to cultivate for immediate subsistence. We will assumefarther (and with too great probability of justice), that the greaterpart of them indolently keep in tillage just as much land as suppliesthem with daily food;--that they leave their children idle, and take noprecautions against the rise of the stream. But one of them, (we willsay but one, for the sake of greater clearness) cultivates carefully_all_ the ground of his estate; makes his children work hard andhealthily; uses his spare time and theirs in building a rampart againstthe river; and, at the end of some years, has in his storehouses largereserves of food and clothing,--in his stables a well-tended breed ofcattle, and around his fields a wedge of wall against flood.
The torrent rises at last--sweeps away the harvests, and half thecottages of the careless peasants, and leaves them destitute. Theynaturally come for help to the provident one, whose fields are unwasted,and whose granaries are full. He has the right to refuse it to them: noone disputes this right.[83] But he will probably _not_ refuse it; it isnot his interest to do so, even were he entirely selfish and cruel. Theonly question with him will be on what terms his aid is to be granted.
142. Clearly, not on terms of mere charity. To maintain his neighboursin idleness would be not only his ruin, but theirs. He will require workfrom them, in exchange for their maintenance; and, whether in kindnessor cruelty, all the work they can give. Not now the three or four hoursthey were wont to spend on their own land, but the eight or ten hoursthey ought to have spent.[84] But how will he apply this labour? The menare now his slaves;--nothing less, and nothing more. On pain ofstarvation, he can force them to work in the manner, and to the end, hechooses. And it is by his wisdom in this choice that the worthiness ofhis mastership is proved, or its unworthiness. Evidently, he must firstset them to bank out the water in some temporary way, and to get theirground cleansed and resown; else, in any case, their continuedmaintenance will be impossible. That done, and while he has still tofeed them, suppose he makes them raise a secure rampart for their ownground against all future flood, and rebuild their houses in saferplaces, with the best material they can find; being allowed time out oftheir working hours to fetch such material from a distance. And for thefood and clothing advanced, he takes security in land that as much shallbe returned at a convenient period.
143. We may conceive this security to be redeemed, and the debt paid atthe end of a few years. The prudent peasant has sustained no loss; _butis no richer than he was, and has had all his trouble for nothing_. Buthe has enriched his neighbours materially; bettered their houses,secured their land, and rendered them, in worldly matters, equal tohimself. In all rational and final sense, he has been throughout theirtrue Lord and King.
144. We will next trace his probable line of conduct, presuming hisobject to be exclusively the increase of his own fortune. After roughlyrecovering and cleansing the ground, he allows the ruined peasantry onlyto build huts upon it, such as he thinks prote
ctive enough from theweather to keep them in working health. The rest of their time heoccupies, first in pulling down, and rebuilding on a magnificent scale,his own house, and in adding large dependencies to it. This done, inexchange for his continued supply of corn, he buys as much of hisneighbours' land as he thinks he can superintend the management of; andmakes the former owners securely embank and protect the ceded portion.By this arrangement, he leaves to a certain number of the peasantry onlyas much ground as will just maintain them in their existing numbers; asthe population increases, he takes the extra hands, who cannot bemaintained on the narrowed estates, for his own servants; employs someto cultivate the ground he has bought, giving them of its produce merelyenough for subsistence; with the surplus, which, under his energetic andcareful superintendence, will be large, he maintains a train of servantsfor state, and a body of workmen, whom he educates in ornamental arts.He now can splendidly decorate his house, lay out its groundsmagnificently, and richly supply his table, and that of his householdand retinue. And thus, without any abuse of right, we should findestablished all the phenomena of poverty and riches, which (it issupposed necessarily) accompany modern civilization. In one part of thedistrict, we should have unhealthy land, miserable dwellings, andhalf-starved poor; in another, a well-ordered estate, well-fed servants,and refined conditions of highly educated and luxurious life.
145. I have put the two cases in simplicity, and to some extremity. Butthough in more complex and qualified operation, all the relations ofsociety are but the expansion of these two typical sequences of conductand result. I do not say, observe, that the first procedure is entirelyrecommendable; or even entirely right; still less, that the second iswholly wrong. Servants, and artists, and splendour of habitation andretinue, have all their use, propriety, and office. But I am determinedthat the reader shall understand clearly what they cost; and see thatthe condition of having them is the subjection to us of a certain numberof imprudent or unfortunate persons (or, it may be, more fortunate thantheir masters), over whose destinies we exercise a boundless control."Riches" mean eternally and essentially this; and God send at last atime when those words of our best-reputed economist shall be true, andwe _shall_ indeed "all know what it is to be rich;"[85] that it is tobe slave-master over farthest earth, and over all ways and thoughts ofmen. Every operative you employ is your true servant: distant or near,subject to your immediate orders, or ministering to yourwidely-communicated caprice,--for the pay he stipulates, or the price hetempts,--all are alike under this great dominion of the gold. Themilliner who makes the dress is as much a servant (more so, in that sheuses more intelligence in the service) as the maid who puts it on; thecarpenter who smooths the door, as the footman who opens it; thetradesmen who supply the table, as the labourers and sailors who supplythe tradesmen. Why speak of these lower services? Painters and singers(whether of note or rhyme,) jesters and storytellers, moralists,historians, priests,--so far as these, in any degree, paint, or sing, ortell their tale, or charm their charm, or "perform" their rite, _forpay_,--in so far, they are all slaves; abject utterly, if the service befor pay only; abject less and less in proportion to the degrees of loveand of wisdom which enter into their duty, or _can_ enter into it,according as their function is to do the bidding and the work of a manlypeople;--or to amuse, tempt, and deceive, a childish one.
146. There is always, in such amusement and temptation, to a certainextent, a government of the rich by the poor, as of the poor by therich; but the latter is the prevailing and necessary one, and itconsists, when it is honourable, in the collection of the profits oflabour from those who would have misused them, and the administration ofthose profits for the service either of the same persons in future, orof others; and when it is dishonourable, as is more frequently the casein modern times, it consists in the collection of the profits of labourfrom those who would have rightly used them, and their appropriation tothe service of the collector himself.
147. The examination of these various modes of collection and use ofriches will form the third branch of our future inquiries; but the keyto the whole subject lies in the clear understanding of the differencebetween selfish and unselfish expenditure. It is not easy, by anycourse of reasoning, to enforce this on the generally unwilling hearer;yet the definition of unselfish expenditure is brief and simple. It isexpenditure which, if you are a capitalist, does not pay _you_, but payssomebody else; and if you are a consumer, does not please _you_, butpleases somebody else. Take one special instance, in furtherillustration of the general type given above. I did not invent thattype, but spoke of a real river, and of real peasantry, the languid andsickly race which inhabits, or haunts--for they are often more likespectres than living men--the thorny desolation of the banks of the Arvein Savoy. Some years ago, a society, formed at Geneva, offered to embankthe river for the ground which would have been recovered by theoperation; but the offer was refused by the (then Sardinian) government.The capitalists saw that this expenditure would have "paid" if theground saved from the river was to be theirs. But if, when the offerthat had this aspect of profit was refused, they had neverthelesspersisted in the plan, and merely taking security for the return oftheir outlay, lent the funds for the work, and thus saved a whole raceof human souls from perishing in a pestiferous fen (as, I presume, someamong them would, at personal risk, have dragged any one drowningcreature out of the current of the stream, and not expected paymenttherefor), such expenditure would have precisely corresponded to the useof his power made, in the first instance, by our supposed richerpeasant--it would have been the king's, of grace, instead of theusurer's, for gain.
148. "Impossible, absurd, Utopian!" exclaim nine-tenths of the fewreaders whom these words may find.
No, good reader, _this_ is not Utopian: but I will tell you what wouldhave seemed, if we had not seen it, Utopian on the side of evil insteadof good; that ever men should have come to value their money so muchmore than their lives, that if you call upon them to become soldiers,and take chance of a bullet through their heart, and of wife andchildren being left desolate, for their pride's sake, they will do itgaily, without thinking twice; but if you ask them, for their country'ssake, to spend a hundred pounds without security of getting back ahundred-and-five,[86] they will laugh in your face.
149. Not but that also this game of life-giving and taking is, in theend, somewhat more costly than other forms of play might be. Riflepractice is, indeed, a not unhealthy pastime, and a feather on the topof the head is a pleasing appendage; but while learning the stops andfingering of the sweet instrument, does no one ever calculate the costof an overture? What melody does Tityrus meditate on his tenderly spiralpipe? The leaden seed of it, broadcast, true conical "Dents de Lion"seed--needing less allowance for the wind than is usual with that kindof herb--what crop are you likely to have of it? Suppose, instead ofthis volunteer marching and countermarching, you were to do a littlevolunteer ploughing and counter-ploughing? It is more difficult to do itstraight: the dust of the earth, so disturbed, is more grateful than formerely rhythmic footsteps. Golden cups, also, given for good ploughing,would be more suitable in colour: (ruby glass, for the wine which"giveth his colour" on the ground, might be fitter for the rifle prizein ladies' hands). Or, conceive a little volunteer exercise with thespade, other than such as is needed for moat and breastwork, or evenfor the burial of the fruit of the leaden avena-seed, subject to theshrill Lemures' criticism--
Wer hat das Haus so schlecht gebauet?
If you were to embank Lincolnshire more stoutly against the sea? orstrip the peat of Solway, or plant Plinlimmon moors with larch--then, indue season, some amateur reaping and threshing?
"Nay, we reap and thresh by steam, in these advanced days."
I know it, my wise and economical friends. The stout arms God gave youto win your bread by, you would fain shoot your neighbours, and God'ssweet singers with;[87] then you invoke the fiends to your farm-service;and--
When young and old come forth to play On a sulphurous holid
ay, Tell how the darkling goblin sweat (His feast of cinders duly set), And, belching night, where breathed the morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end.
150. Going back to the matter in hand, we will press the example closer.On a green knoll above that plain of the Arve, between Cluse andBonneville, there was, in the year 1860, a cottage, inhabited by awell-doing family--man and wife, three children, and the grandmother. Icall it a cottage, but in truth, it was a large chimney on the ground,wide at the bottom, so that the family might live round the fire;lighted by one small broken window, and entered by an unclosing door.The family, I say, was "well-doing;" at least it was hopeful andcheerful; the wife healthy, the children, for Savoyards, pretty andactive, but the husband threatened with decline, from exposure under thecliffs of the Mont Vergi by day, and to draughts between every plank ofhis chimney in the frosty nights.
"Why could he not plaster the chinks?" asks the practical reader. Forthe same reason that your child cannot wash its face and hands till youhave washed them many a day for it, and will not wash them when it can,till you force it.
151. I passed this cottage often in my walks, had its window and doormended; sometimes mended also a little the meal of sour bread and broth,and generally got kind greeting and smile from the face of young or old;which greeting this year, narrowed itself into the half-recognizingstare of the elder child, and the old woman's tears; for the father andmother were both dead,--one of sickness, the other of sorrow. Ithappened that I passed not alone, but with a companion, a practisedEnglish joiner, who, while these people were dying of cold, had beenemployed from six in the morning to six in the evening, for two months,in fitting, without nails, the panels of a single door in a large housein London. Three days of his work taken, at the right time fromfastening the oak panels with useless precision, and applied to fastenthe larch timbers with decent strength, would have saved theseSavoyards' lives. _He_ would have been maintained equally; (I supposehim equally paid for his work by the owner of the greater house, onlythe work not consumed selfishly on his own walls;) and the two peasants,and eventually, probably their children, saved.
152. There are, therefore,--let me finally enforce, and leave with thereader, this broad conclusion,--three things to be considered inemploying any poor person. It is not enough to give him employment. Youmust employ him first to produce useful things; secondly, of the several(suppose equally useful) things he can equally well produce, you mustset him to make that which will cause him to lead the healthiest life;lastly, of the things produced, it remains a question of wisdom andconscience how much you are to take yourself, and how much to leave toothers. A large quantity, remember, unless you destroy it, _must_ alwaysbe so left at one time or another; the only questions you have to decideare, not _what_ you will give, but _when_, and _how_, and _to whom_, youwill give. The natural law of human life is, of course, that in youth aman shall labour and lay by store for his old age, and when age comes,shall use what he has laid by, gradually slackening his toil, andallowing himself more frank use of his store; taking care always toleave himself as much as will surely suffice for him beyond any possiblelength of life. What he has gained, or by tranquil and unanxious toilcontinues to gain, more than is enough for his own need, he ought so toadminister, while he yet lives, as to see the good of it againbeginning, in other hands; for thus he has himself the greatest sum ofpleasure from it, and faithfully uses his sagacity in its control.Whereas most men, it appears, dislike the sight of their fortunes goingout into service again, and say to themselves,--"I can indeed nowiseprevent this money from falling at last into the hands of others, norhinder the good of it from becoming theirs, not mine; but at least let amerciful death save me from being a witness of their satisfaction; andmay God so far be gracious to me as to let no good come of any of thismoney of mine before my eyes."
153. Supposing this feeling unconquerable, the safest way of rationallyindulging it would be for the capitalist at once to spend all hisfortune on himself, which might actually, in many cases, be quite therightest as well as the pleasantest thing to do, if he had just tastesand worthy passions. But, whether for himself only, or through thehands, and for the sake, of others also, the law of wise life is, thatthe maker of the money shall also be the spender of it, and spend it,approximately, all, before he dies; so that his true ambition as aneconomist should be, to die, not as rich, but as poor, as possible,[88]calculating the ebb tide of possession in true and calm proportion tothe ebb tide of life. Which law, checking the wing of accumulativedesire in the mid-volley,[89] and leading to peace of possession andfulness of fruition in old age, is also wholesome, in that by thefreedom of gift, together with present help and counsel, it at onceendears and dignifies age in the sight of youth, which then no longerstrips the bodies of the dead, but receives the grace of the living. Itschief use would (or will be, for men are indeed capable of attaining tothis much use of their reason), that some temperance and measure will beput to the acquisitiveness of commerce.[90] For as things stand, a manholds it his duty to be temperate in his food, and of his body, but forno duty to be temperate in his riches, and of his mind. He sees that heought not to waste his youth and his flesh for luxury; but he will wastehis age, and his soul, for money, and think he does no wrong, nor knowthe _delirium tremens_ of the intellect for disease. But the law of lifeis, that a man should fix the sum he desires to make annually, as thefood he desires to eat daily; and stay when he has reached the limit,refusing increase of business, and leaving it to others, so obtainingdue freedom of time for better thoughts.[91] How the gluttony ofbusiness is punished, a bill of health for the principals of the richestcity houses, issued annually, would show in a sufficiently impressivemanner.
154. I know, of course, that these statements will be received by themodern merchant as an active border rider of the sixteenth century wouldhave heard of its being proper for men of the Marches to get theirliving by the spade, instead of the spur. But my business is only tostate veracities and necessities; I neither look for the acceptance ofthe one, nor hope for the nearness of the other. Near or distant, theday _will_ assuredly come when the merchants of a state shall be itstrue ministers of exchange, its porters, in the double sense of carriersand gate-keepers, bringing all lands into frank and faithfulcommunication, and knowing for their master of guild, Hermes the herald,instead of Mercury the gain-guarder.
155. And now, finally, for immediate rule to all who will accept it.
The distress of any population means that they need food, house-room,clothes, and fuel. You can never, therefore, be wrong in employing anylabourer to produce food, house-room, clothes, or fuel; but you are_always_ wrong if you employ him to produce nothing, (for then someother labourer must be worked double time to feed him); and you aregenerally wrong, at present, if you employ him (unless he can do nothingelse) to produce works of art or luxuries; because modern art is mostlyon a false basis, and modern luxury is criminally great.[92]
156. The way to produce more food is mainly to bring in fresh ground,and increase facilities of carriage;--to break rock, exchange earth,drain the moist, and water the dry, to mend roads, and build harbours ofrefuge. Taxation thus spent will annihilate taxation, but spent in war,it annihilates revenue.
157. The way to produce house-room is to apply your force first to thehumblest dwellings. When your brick-layers are out of employ, do notbuild splendid new streets, but better the old ones; send your pavioursand slaters to the poorest villages, and see that your poor arehealthily lodged, before you try your hand on stately architecture. Youwill find its stateliness rise better under the trowel afterwards; andwe do do not yet build so well that we need hasten to display our skillto future ages. Had the labour which has decorated the Houses ofParliament filled, instead, rents in walls and roofs throughout thecounty of Middlesex; and our deputies met to talk within massive wallsthat would have needed no stucco for five hundred years,--the decorationmight have been afterwards, and the talk now. And touch
ing even ourhighly conscientious church building, it may be well to remember that inthe best days of church plans, their masons called themselves "logeursdu bon Dieu;" and that since, according to the most trusted reports, Godspends a good deal of His time in cottages as well as in churches, Hemight perhaps like to be a little better lodged there also.
158. The way to get more clothes is--not, necessarily, to get morecotton. There were words written twenty years ago[93] which would havesaved many of us some shivering, had they been minded in time. Shall weread them again?
"The Continental people, it would seem, are importing our machinery,beginning to spin cotton, and manufacture for themselves; to cut us outof this market, and then out of that! Sad news, indeed; butirremediable. By no means the saddest news--the saddest news, is that weshould find our national existence, as I sometimes hear it said, dependon selling manufactured cotton at a farthing an ell cheaper than anyother people. A most narrow stand for a great nation to base itself on!A stand which, with all the Corn-law abrogations conceivable, I do notthink will be capable of enduring.
"My friends, suppose we quitted that stand; suppose we came honestlydown from it and said--'This is our minimum of cotton prices; we carenot, for the present, to make cotton any cheaper. Do you, if it seem soblessed to you, make cotton cheaper. Fill your lungs with cotton fur,your heart with copperas fumes, with rage and mutiny; become ye thegeneral gnomes of Europe, slaves of the lamp!' I admire a nation whichfancies it will die if it do not undersell all other nations to the endof the world. Brothers, we will cease to undersell them; we will becontent to equal-sell them; to be happy selling equally with them! I donot see the use of underselling them: cotton-cloth is already twopence ayard, or lower; and yet bare backs were never more numerous among us.Let inventive men cease to spend their existence incessantly contrivinghow cotton can be made cheaper; and try to invent a little how cotton atits present cheapness could be somewhat justlier divided among us.
"Let inventive men consider--whether the secret of this universe doesafter all consist in making money. With a hell which means--'failing tomake money,' I do not think there is any heaven possible that would suitone well. In brief, all this Mammon gospel of supply-and-demand,competition _laissez faire_, and devil take the hindmost (foremost, isit not, rather, Mr. Carlyle?), 'begins to be one of the shabbiestgospels ever preached.'"
159. The way to produce more fuel[94] is first to make your coal minessafer, by sinking more shafts; then set all your convicts to work inthem, and if, as is to be hoped, you succeed in diminishing the supplyof that sort of labourer, consider what means there may be, first, ofgrowing forest where its growth will improve climate; secondly, ofsplintering the forests which now make continents of fruitful landpathless and poisonous, into fagots for fire;--so gaining at oncedominion icewards and sunwards. Your steam power has been given (youwill find eventually) for work such as that: and not for excursiontrains, to give the labourer a moment's breath, at the peril of hisbreath for ever, from amidst the cities which it has crushed into massesof corruption. When you know how to build cities, and how to rule them,you will be able to breathe in their streets, and the "excursion" willbe the afternoon's walk or game in the fields round them.
160. "But nothing of this work will pay?"
No; no more than it pays to dust your rooms, or wash your doorsteps. Itwill pay; not at first in currency, but in that which is the end and thesource of currency,--in life; (and in currency richly afterwards). Itwill pay in that which is more than life,--in light, whose true pricehas not yet been reckoned in any currency, and yet into the image ofwhich, all wealth, one way or other, must be cast. For your riches musteither be as the lightning, which,
Begot but in a cloud, Though shining bright, and speaking loud, Whilst it begins, concludes its violent race; And, where it gilds, it wounds the place;--
or else, as the lightning of the sacred sign, which shines from one partof the heaven to the other. There is no other choice; you must eithertake dust for deity, spectre for possession, fettered dream for life,and for epitaph, this reversed verse of the great Hebrew hymn of economy(Psalm cxii.):--"He hath gathered together, he hath stripped the poor,his iniquity remaineth for ever:"--or else, having the sun of justice toshine on you, and the sincere substance of good in your possession, andthe pure law and liberty of life within you, leave men to write thisbetter legend over your grave:--
"He hath dispersed abroad. He hath given to the poor. His righteousnessremaineth for ever."
FOOTNOTES:
[78] In the present general examination, I concede so much to ordinaryeconomists as to ignore all _innocent_ poverty. I adapt my reasoning,for once, to the modern English practical mind, by assuming poverty tobe always criminal; the conceivable exceptions we will examineafterwards.
[79] [I have no terms of English, and can find none in Greek nor Latin,nor in any other strong language known to me, contemptuous enough toattach to the bestial idiotism of the modern theory that wages are to bemeasured by competition.]
[80] I say nothing yet of the quality of the servants, which,nevertheless, is the gist of the business. Will you have Paul Veroneseto paint your ceiling, or the plumber from over the way? Both will workfor the same money; Paul, if anything, a little the cheaper of the two,if you keep him in good humour; only you have to discern him first,which will need eyes.
[81] [I have not altered a syllable in these three paragraphs, 137, 138,139, on revision; but have much italicised: the principles stated beingas vital, as they are little known.]
[82] By his art he may; but only when its produce, or the sight orhearing of it, becomes a subject of dispute, so as to enable the artistto tax the labour of multitudes highly, in exchange for his own.
[83] [Observe this; the legal right to keep what you have worked for,and use it as you please, is the corner-stone of all economy: comparethe end of Chap. II.]
[84] [I should now put the time of necessary labour rather under thanover the third of the day.]
[85] [See Preface to _Unto this Last_.]
[86] I have not hitherto touched on the subject of interest of money; itis too complex, and must be reserved for its proper place in the body ofthe work. The definition of interest (apart from compensation for risk)is, "the exponent of the comfort of accomplished labour, separated fromits power;" the power being what is lent: and the French economists whohave maintained the entire illegality of interest are wrong; yet by nomeans so curiously or wildly wrong as the English and French onesopposed to them, whose opinions have been collected by Dr. Whewell atpage 41 of his _Lectures_; it never seeming to occur to the mind of thecompiler, any more than to the writers whom he quotes, that it is quitepossible, and even (according to Jewish proverb) prudent, for men tohoard as ants and mice do, for use, not usury; and lay by something forwinter nights, in the expectation of rather sharing than lending thescrapings. My Savoyard squirrels would pass a pleasant time of it underthe snow-laden pine branches, if they always declined to economizebecause no one would pay them interest on nuts.
[I leave this note as it stood: but, as I have above stated, should nowside wholly with the French economists spoken of, in asserting theabsolute illegality of interest.]
[87] Compare Chaucer's feeling respecting birds (from Canace's falcon,to the nightingale, singing, "Domine, labia--" to the Lord of Love),with the usual modern British sentiments on this subject. Or evenCowley's:--
"What prince's choir of music can excel That which within this shade does dwell, To which we nothing pay, or give, They, like all other poets, live Without reward, or thanks for their obliging pains! 'Tis well if they become not prey."
Yes; it Is better than well; particularly since the seed sown by thewayside has been protected by the peculiar appropriation of part of thechurch-rates in our country parishes. See the remonstrance from a"Country parson," in _The Times_ of June 4th (or 5th; the letter isdated June 3rd,) 1862:--"I have heard at a vestry meeting a good deal ofhiggling
over a few shillings' outlay in cleaning the church; but I havenever heard any dissatisfaction expressed on account of that part of therate which is invested in 50 or 100 dozens of birds' heads."
[If we could trace the innermost of all causes of modern war, I believeit would be found, not in the avarice nor ambition of nations, but inthe mere idleness of the upper classes. They have nothing to do but toteach the peasantry to kill each other.]
[88] [See the _Life of Fenelon_. "The labouring peasantry were at alltimes the objects of his tenderest care; his palace at Cambray, with allhis books and writings, being consumed by fire, he bore the misfortunewith unruffled calmness, and said it was better his palace should beburnt than the cottage of a poor peasant." (These thoroughly good menalways go too far, and lose their power over the mass.) He diedexemplifying the mean he had always observed between prodigality andavarice, leaving neither debts nor money.]
[89] [Greek: kai penian hegoumenous einai me to ten ousian elatto poieinalla to tei aplestian pleio]. "And thinking (wisely) that povertyconsists not in making one's possessions less, but one's avaricemore."--_Laws_, v. 8. Read the context, and compare. "He who spends forall that is noble, and gains by nothing but what is just, will hardly benotably wealthy, or distressfully poor."--_Laws_, v. 42.
[90] The fury of modern trade arises chiefly out of the possibility ofmaking sudden fortunes by largeness of transaction, and accident ofdiscovery or contrivance. I have no doubt that the final interest ofevery nation is to check the action of these commercial lotteries; andthat all great accidental gains or losses should be national,--notindividual. But speculation absolute, unconnected with commercialeffort, is an unmitigated evil in a state, and the root of countlessevils beside.
[91] [I desire in the strongest terms to reinforce all that is containedin this paragraph.]
[92] It is especially necessary that the reader should keep his mindfixed on the methods of consumption and destruction, as the true sourcesof national poverty. Men are apt to call every exchange "expenditure,"but it is only consumption which is expenditure. A large number of thepurchases made by the richer classes are mere forms of interchange ofunused property, wholly without effect on national prosperity. Itmatters nothing to the state whether, if a china pipkin be rated asworth a hundred pounds, A has the pipkin and B the pounds, or A thepounds and B the pipkin. But if the pipkin is pretty, and A or B breaksit, there is national loss, not otherwise. So again, when the loss hasreally taken place, no shifting of the shoulders that bear it will doaway with the reality of it. There is an intensely ludicrous notion inthe public mind respecting the abolishment of debt by denying it. When adebt is denied, the lender loses instead of the borrower, that is all;the loss is precisely, accurately, everlastingly the same. The Americansborrow money to spend in blowing up their own houses. They deny theirdebt, by one-third already [1863], gold being at fifty premium; and theywill probably deny it wholly. That merely means that the holders of thenotes are to be the losers instead of the issuers. The quantity of lossis precisely equal, and irrevocable; it is the quantity of humanindustry spent in effecting the explosion, plus the quantity of goodsexploded. Honour only decides _who_ shall pay the sum lost not whetherit is to be paid or not. Paid it must be, and to the uttermost farthing.
[93] [(_Past and Present._ Chap. IX. of Third Section.) To think thatfor these twenty--now twenty-six--years, this one voice of Carlyle's hasbeen the only faithful and useful utterance in all England, and hassounded through all these years in vain! See _Fors Clavigera_, LetterX.]
[94] [We don't want to produce more fuel just now, but much less; and touse what we get for cooking and warming ourselves, instead of forrunning from place to place.]