There were many peculiarities, indeed, both in his manners and in his intellectual habits; but to those who knew him, these peculiarities, so far from detracting from the respect which his abilities commanded, added an irresistible charm to his conversation, and strongly displayed the artless simplicity of his heart. The comprehensive speculations with which he had always been occupied, and the variety of materials which his own invention continually supplied to his thoughts, rendered him habitually inattentive to familiar objects, and to common occurrences. On this account, he was remarkable, throughout the whole of life, for speaking to himself when alone, and for being so absent in company, as, on some occasions, to exceed almost what the fancy of a Bruyere could imagine. In company, he was apt to be engrossed by his studies; and appeared, at times, by the motion of his lips, as well as by his looks and gestures, to be in the fervour of composition. It was observed, that he rarely started a topic himself, or even fell in easily with the common dialogue of conversation. When he did speak, however, he was somewhat apt to convey his ideas in the form of a lecture; but this never proceeded from a wish to engross the discourse, or to gratify his vanity. His own inclination disposed him so strongly to enjoy, in silence, the gaiety of those around him, that his friends were often led to concert little schemes, in order to bring on the subjects most likely to interest him.
SHORT VIEW
OF THE
DOCTRINE OF SMITH, COMPARED WITH THAT OF THE
FRENCH ECONOMISTS
The ancient philosophers were little accustomed to employ themselves in the observation of those laws which regulate the distribution of riches among the different orders of society in a nation, or in the search after the sources of the increase of its wealth. In fact, political economy is a science of very modern origin; for although, towards the end of the seventeenth century, several writers, both of France and England, had begun to discuss the comparative advantages of agriculture and commerce, yet it was not till the middle of the eighteenth, that any thing like a complete system appeared upon the growth and distribution of national wealth. At this period, the philosophical Quesnai directed his attention to this very abstract subject, and became the founder of a celebrated school, which may boast among its adherents many distinguished men of talents and extensive knowledge.
All philosophical sects owe their first origin and foundation to the discovery of some great truth; and it is the madness inspiring their members, to deduce every thing from this new discovery, that contributes most to their downfal. Thus it was with the economists. They saw that the original source of all wealth was the soil, and that the labour of its cultivation produced not only the means of subsisting the labourer, but also a neat surplus, which went to the increase of the existing stock: while, on the other hand, the labour applied to the productions of the earth, the labour of manufactures and commerce, can only add to the material a value exactly equal to that expended during the execution of the work; by which means, in the end, this species of labour operates no real change on the total sum of national riches. They perceived that the landed proprietors are the first receivers of the whole wealth of the community; and that, whatever is consumed by those who are not possessed of land, must come, directly or indirectly, from the former; and hence, that these receive wages from the proprietors, and that the circulation of national wealth, is, in fact, only a succession of exchanges between these two classes of men, the proprietors furnishing their wealth, and the non-proprietors giving as an equivalent their labour and industry. They perceived that a tax, being a portion of the national wealth applied to public use, in every instance, however levied, bears finally upon the landed proprietors, inasmuch as they are the distributors of that wealth, either by retrenching their luxuries, or by loading them with an additional expense; and that, therefore, every tax which is not levied directly on the rude produce of the earth, falls in the end on the landed proprietors, with a surplus produce, from which the amount of the revenue receives no addition.
These assertions are almost all incontestible, and capable of a rigorous demonstration; and those who have attempted to shew their falsity, have, in general, opposed them only with idle sophistry. Why, then, has this doctrine met with so little success, and why does every day diminish its reputation? because it agrees in no one point with the moral condition, either of societies or of individuals; because it is continually contradicted by experience, and by the infallible instinct of self-interest; because it does not possess that indispensible sanction of all truths, utility. In fact, of what consequence is it, that the labour of agriculture produces not only what covers its own expenses, but new beings which would never have existed without it, and that it has this advantage over the labour of manufactures and commerce? Does it by any means follow from this, that the former kind of labour is more profitable to the community than the latter? The real essence of all wealth, and that which determines its value, is the necessity under which the consumer lies to purchase it; for, in truth, there is no such thing as wealth properly so called, nor absolute value; but the words wealth and value are really nothing more than the co-relatives of consumption and demand. Even the necessaries of life, in a country which is inhabited, but incapable of commercial intercourse, will not form wealth; and to whatever degree of civilization that country may have reached, still the same principle will hold without alteration. If the sum of national wealth shall in any case have exceeded the sum of demands, then a part of the former sum will cease to bear the name of wealth, and will again be without value. In vain, then, will agriculture multiply her produce; for the instant that it exceeds the bounds of actual consumption, a part will lose its value; and self-interest, that prime director of all labour and industry, seeing herself thus deceived in her expectations, will not fail to turn her activity and efforts to another quarter.
In almost every instance, it is an idle refinement to distinguish between the labour of those employed in agriculture, and of those employed in manufactures and commerce; for wealth is necessarily the result of both descriptions of labour, and consumption can no more take place independently of the one, than it can independently of the other. It is by their simultaneous concurrence that any thing becomes consumable, and, of course, that it comes to constitute wealth. How then are we entitled to compare their respective products, since it is impossible to distinguish these in the joint product, and thus appreciate the separate value of each? The value of growing wheat results as much from the industry of the reaper who gathers it in, of the thrasher who separates it from the chaff and straw, of the miller and baker who convert it successively into flour and bread, as it does from that of the ploughman and of the sower. Without the labour of the weaver, the raw material of flax would lose all its value, and be regarded as no way superior to the most useless weed that grows. What then can we gain by any attempts to determine which of these two species of labour conduces most to the advancement of national wealth; or, are they not as idle, as if we busied ourselves in inquiring, whether the right or the left foot is the most useful in walking?
It is true, indeed, that in every species of manufacture, the workman adds to the value of the raw material a value exactly equal to that which was expended during the process of manufacture; and what is the conclusion we are to draw this? It is merely, that a certain exchange has taken place and that the food consumed by the manufacturer is now represented by the increase of value resulting from his manual labour. Thus wool, when converted into cloth, has gained a value precisely equal to that expended by the manufacturer during the conversion. But, if it is shown that, without this exchange, the wool would have remained without value, while, on the other hand, the food of the manufacturer would have been without a consumer; it will then appear, that this exchange has, in fact, done what is equivalent to creating these two values, and that it has proved to the society an operation infinitely more useful, than if an equal quantity of labour had been spent in the increase of that rude produce, which already existed in overabundance. The first description of labour has been truly productive; while the last would have been altogether unproductive, since it would not have created any value.
'The soil,' say the economists, 'is the source of all wealth.' But, to prevent this assertion from leading us into erroneous conclusions, it will be necessary to explain it. The materials of all wealth originate primarily in the bosom of the earth; but it is only by the aid of labour that they can ever truly constitute wealth. The earth furnishes the means of wealth; but wealth itself cannot possibly have any existence, unless through that industry and labour which modifies, divides, connects, and combines the