Story of Philip Brusque.
CHAPTER XII.
It is natural for mankind to love power; a child loves it, and always seeks to govern his parents and his playmates. Men seek also to govern their fellowmen. This desire is stronger in some than in others; there are persons who are always striving and contriving, for the purpose of acquiring authority over those around them.
Now when several people unite for a certain object, we call them a society; if they unite for religious purposes, we call them a religious society; if for charity, we call them a charitable society; if for government, we call them a political society, because politics is the business of government.
Wherever there is society, we see this love of power; we there find persons who are seeking, by all sorts of means, to acquire authority, so that they may rule. We find it even in school—for there we meet with girls and boys, who strive not only to sway the teacher, but the other scholars; we find it in villages—for there we meet with men who are plotting to gain an ascendency; in short, we find it everywhere, in towns and cities, in states, countries, and kingdoms.
Now this love of power is a selfish thing, and though it may lead to good, yet it is very apt to lead to evil. It is this which has caused conquerors to murder millions of their fellow-men; it is this which has led politicians to practise every sort of fraud and deception. And one thing is to be remarked here, that when a person desires power, so much as to take dishonest or trickish means to obtain it, he is not fit to possess it. Such a person will only use it selfishly, and not for the good of those who may come under his authority.
It was fortunate for the little society of Fredonia, that in choosing Mr. Bonfils for a governor, they selected one who did not desire power for any selfish reason, and who accepted the office bestowed upon him only in the hope of benefiting the people. He felt like a father to his children, and his thoughts were, therefore, bent upon the means by which their happiness could be promoted. If he had been a selfish person, he would have turned his mind to consider how he might best promote his own ambition; how he might acquire more power; and how he might secure and perpetuate his sway.
You have heard of Washington, who was president of the United States: now he never strove to get that high office, and he only accepted it, in the hope that his government might bless the nation. You have heard of Bonaparte; he became the emperor of France; but he did it by his own efforts. He did not wait to be chosen a ruler; but he seized the reins of power. He commanded the people to make a crown, and then he commanded them to put it on his head, and call him emperor: and they obeyed. Having thus acquired vast power, having command of the army and the navy; having all the money of the government—he put them in requisition to carry on wars of conquest. His love of power was so great that he was not content with ruling over the thirty millions of people in France; he yearned to reign over all Europe—over all the world. His ambition was so boundless and grasping, that the nations of Europe rose against him, hurled him from his throne, and caused him to be confined to the rocky island of St. Helena, where he died.
Now Mr. Bonfils was like Washington, and not like Bonaparte. He took the office of governor, only to do good to his people. His first thought, upon becoming the ruler, was to discover what could be done to make the little nation of Fredonia, peaceful and happy. In looking around, he saw many things to give him anxiety. In the first place, the clothes of the people were fast wearing out, and the tents in which they lived, being covered with the sails of the ship, were small and uncomfortable. They might do pretty well for the dry season, but what was to be done when the autumn rains should set in? And, in addition to all this, the people had only a very few articles of furniture, and in this respect, they were exceedingly uncomfortable.
While, therefore, clothes, dwellings, and furniture, were needed, there was another still more pressing want, and this was food. The flour, bread, and biscuit, brought from the ship, were entirely gone; the meat was all devoured; the salt, pepper, and spices were entirely used up. The island, as I have said, produced many fruits, particularly oranges; it also yielded pine-apples, a few melons, grapes, and pomegranates. Upon these fruits the people had now subsisted for several weeks; but Mr. Bonfils saw, that long before another season could return, the fruits of the island must be exhausted, unless something could be done to furnish food from other sources, and protect what there was from waste.
On making inquiries, he ascertained that there were no cows, sheep, deer, or hogs upon the island; and, saving a few wild goats that lived around the cliffs, there were no animals of considerable size. There were a few monkeys, a considerable number of lemurs, and a great variety of macaws, paroquets, and other birds of gay plumage. It was clear, therefore, that the animals did not afford the means of subsistence, and even if they were sufficient, how could they be taken, for, excepting the pistols of François, there were no fire-arms upon the island.
Mr. Bonfils reflected upon all these things, and he saw that unless something could be done, poverty and misery must be the lot of the people of Fredonia. If they had no clothing, no good houses, no good furniture, no proper food, they would sink into a state of nature; they would lose their refinement, their sense of propriety, their love of neatness and order; they would, in short, cease to be civilized, and become savages.
“How are these things to be remedied?” said one of the old men to the governor. “I will tell you my views upon this subject,” said the latter.
“It is by the labor of the hands alone that mankind can live, in a civilized state. It is the labor of the hands that produces hats, shoes, shirts, coats, gowns, handkerchiefs; the things we want to wear. It is the labor of the hands that produces houses, and the furniture with which we supply them. It is the labor of the hands that produces wheat, rye, oats, barley, maize, potatoes, peas, and other things, as food for man and beast.
“Now where the people are industrious, all these things which we want for dress, for shelter, for furniture, for food, become abundant; where the people are industrious, therefore, they are not only supplied with the comforts and luxuries of life, but they adopt good and virtuous habits, and are therefore happy. Where they are indolent they are poor, vicious and unhappy. The great thing in government, then, is to make people industrious. And now how is this to be done?
“I do not know of any other way than to set before them inducements to labor; we must see that those who work are well rewarded for it. Here lies the great difficulty of our condition; we shall soon be in want of food and shelter, and we shall all work hard before we starve or go without houses. But when these pressing necessities are supplied, shall we not relapse into indolence, vice and barbarism?
“The first thing to be done is, no doubt, to look out for food and for shelter; but we must go farther; we must try to keep up the tastes of the people; we must try to preserve their love of good clothing; their love of good houses; their love of good food, and the other comforts and luxuries of home; the refinements and enjoyments which flow from neatness and order. We must preserve these tastes, because the people will toil to gratify them; they will become industrious to gratify them. Without these tastes people will only work for food; they will live like mere animals, being content with satisfying animal wants; they will become savages.
“Refined tastes constitute what we call civilization; they raise men above savages; they are the source of that industry which makes a nation rich and happy. I repeat, we must preserve these tastes, we must preserve our civilization.
“Now, in order to preserve these tastes, we must have the means of gratifying them; we must have MANUFACTORIES, to make bonnets, shoes, and dresses; we must have AGRICULTURE, that is we must cultivate the lands, in order to have bread and rear cattle; we must have vessels to carry on COMMERCE, by means of which, we may exchange our products for tea, coffee, spices and things which do not grow among us, but are produced in other lands. Thus manufactures, agriculture, and commerce, are the three great sources of prosperity; and these must be made to flourish, in order to make people happy. How is all this to be done?
“The first step is this, to divide the lands and other property, giving to each man his share, and making him secure in the possession of it; and also making him secure in the possession of all he earns by his industry or skill.”
Here the man broke in and said—“Pray excuse me, Mr. Governor, but I differ with you there. I think it is better to hold the land and everything else, in common. If you divide the land and property, some persons who are greedy, sharp-witted and industrious, will constantly increase their lands and property and become rich; while others, who are simple, and careless, will gradually become poor. Thus we shall soon see those odious distinctions of rich and poor in society. I am opposed to all this!”
“I am well aware, my friend,” said the governor, “that such ideas as you entertain, have often been indulged, and by very good people too; but let me tell you that all attempts to put them in practice, have resulted in disappointment and failure. No society that has held property in common, has ever been happy; no society has ever advanced in virtue, or civilization, or peace, that has been founded upon this principle. Man loves to call things ‘mine,’ and ‘thine.’ Man is made by his Creator to identify things with himself, and to love them from such identity. Why, if all things are to be held in common, why does the mother, why does the father, love the child? It is not because it is more beautiful than other children, but because it is theirs? Why is man made to love that place which goes by the dear title of home? Why do we love our birth-place above all others, even though a cottage or a hut? Why, even if we reach the palace in after-life, is that birth-place the dearest spot on earth?
“Why do the people of every land love their particular country better than all other lands? Why does the Laplander prefer his climate of snows, and bless Heaven that has sent him such a happy lot? Why does the Swiss, upon the shaggy sides of his mountains, where scarce the wild goat can find footing, delight in his rugged home, and, looking down upon the people of the luxurious valley beneath, lift his soul in thanksgiving to God, who has preferred him thus? All this shows, that man is made to love his children, his home, his country—to love the things which belong to himself.
“Now I admit that selfishness is to have its boundaries; selfishness which is at variance with the good of others is vicious, and deserves rebuke. But the self-love, which makes a man love things belonging to himself, is the foundation of that affection which parents bear to children—which we all bear to home—which we all feel for our country. If you undertake to blot out the ideas of mine and thine—if you seek to make all things common, then you war against man’s very nature; you seek to overturn the design of our Creator; you would deprive the child of the love of the parent; you would have no such thing as home; you would annihilate that noble sentiment, which we call patriotism. In short, you would deprive life of its greatest charms; you would take out of man’s bosom his noblest sentiments, and annihilate some of the most powerful springs of human action, effort and industry.
“No—no! my dear sir: man is made to possess things, to call them his, and to desire, by his own efforts, to accumulate things to himself. To resist this principle, is to resist Heaven and nature, and common sense. Destroy this principle, and you make man either a reluctant drudge, or an indolent savage. So the world has ever found it. The only way is to establish society upon this principle—if a man, by his toil, builds himself a house, let him have it and keep it, and let no man disturb him in the possession of it. If it is his, and he knows that it will continue so, he will take pains to build it well, to make it convenient, and to make it pleasant. But if he feels that it may be taken away by some stronger man, or by society, he will do as little to it as possible.
“Thus it is that men will work, if the fruits of their toil are to be theirs; they will labor industriously, they will put forth their best efforts, they will surround themselves with comforts and luxuries, if they are to be secured in the possession of what they produce. You will see, then, that according to my view, industry is the great source of national happiness: it is the great producing power, and it is the great moral regulator of society. And the most potent stimulus to industry, is to allow a man to have what he earns, and to keep it, use it, or dispose of it, as he pleases. These are the fundamental principles of government, and they are indispensable to civilization; without them, society tends, necessarily, to barbarism, or to the savage state.”
It was by such conversations as these, that Mr. Bonfils imparted his views to the people. Many of them, who had shared in the turmoil of the French Revolution, had got their ideas unsettled: some believed that no government was necessary; others thought that some new system, better than any yet tried, might be adopted. But, by degrees, they assented to the views of their governor.
Agreeably to his plan, the lands were now divided among the men, reserving about one half, as belonging to the government. Each had enough; and the good effects of this were immediately visible, for every one set about building himself a house. The change in the island was wonderful; for, everybody had been idle before; but now, all was activity, energy and industry.
While the men were at work in building the houses, the women were equally industrious in providing such articles of furniture as they could. They gathered leaves for beds; made curtains for windows of the leaves of the palm, for they had no glass; they made dishes of shells and wild gourds, and even fashioned a variety of articles of earthenware, from clay.
The scene was really delightful. All were busy—all seemed happy. There was no quarrelling—no grumbling—no idleness. And one curious thing was this: that trade began to spring up, as soon as the division of property was made, and each had received his share. One person found that he had more of a certain article than he wanted, and less of another; so he went round to the neighbors to exchange, or swap, the superfluous articles for such as he needed. This was the beginning of trade.
There was another thing that seemed to promote this: Mr. Bonfils requested Piqué, the fisherman, who had been cast away on the island, to go round and see if he could not find some place where fish could be caught. In this he succeeded. He made hooks and lines with considerable labor, and, with one other person, spent his time in fishing. François undertook to supply the people with goat’s flesh and birds, which he accomplished easily, by means of his pistols. Thus fish, flesh, and fowl were supplied, though scantily at first; and those who supplied them, received such things in exchange as they wanted.
But this mode of bartering soon grew inconvenient. Some of the people wanted fish and meat, but they had nothing to give in exchange, that either François or the fishermen needed. How, then, could they get fish and meat? Mr. Bonfils now saw the necessity of money; but there was none upon the island. No one had brought any thither, and none had been discovered. What then was to be done?
The governor knew that money must consist of something that has value in itself; something that is wanted by all. He knew that salt was used for money in some countries, because all desired it; he therefore requested Brusque to set about manufacturing salt from seawater. This was soon done, and thus the people had salt—and the lumps actually came into use, as money. When a man bought a fish, or a piece of goat’s flesh, he paid so much salt, instead of so much silver.