It is necessary to establish this point of the security of property, as one of the rights, and we may add as the greatest right, of industry;—and therefore, at the risk of being thought tedious, we may call attention to the general state of the argument in reply to some who hold that the rights of property, and the rights of labour, are antagonistic.
The value of an article produced is the labour required for its production.
Capital, the accumulation of past labour, represents the entire amount of that labour which is not consumed;—it is the old labour stored up for exchange with new labour.
Those who attach an exclusive value to new labour as distinguished from old labour—or labour as distinguished from capital—say that the new production shall be stimulated by the old production, without allowing the old production to be exchanged against the new;—that is, that the old production shall be an instrument for the reward of new labour, but not a profitable one to its possessor.
The doctrine therefore amounts to this; that labour shall be exchanged with labour, but not with the produce of labour,—or that there shall be no exchange whatever;—for if the present labourers are to have the sole benefit of the capital, the principle of exchange, in which both exchangers benefit, is destroyed. There must be an end of all exchanges when the things to be exchanged are not equally desired by both parties. If the capitalist is to lend or give the capital to the labourer without a profit, or without a perfect freedom which would entitle him to withhold it if no profit could be obtained, the balance is destroyed between capital and labour. Accumulation is then at an end; because the security of the thing accumulated to the accumulator is at an end. The security is at an end, because if the new labour is to have the advantage of the old labour without compensation or exchange, the new labour must take the old labour by force or fraud; for the new cannot proceed without the old;—labour cannot stir without capital. Accumulation, therefore, being at an end, labour for an object beyond the wants of an hour is at an end. Society resolves itself into its first elements.
Strabo, the ancient geographer, has described a tribe amongst whom the title of the priest to the priesthood was acquired by having murdered his predecessor; and consequently the business of the priest in possession was not to discharge the duties of the priesthood, but to watch sword in hand, to defend himself against the new claimant to the office. If the principle were to be recognized, that the accumulation of former labour belongs to the present labourers; and that the best title to the accumulation is to have added nothing towards it, but only to be willing to add,—the title of the labourers in possession would require to be maintained by a constant encounter with new claimants; as the priest of Strabo, who had dispossessed the previous priest, had to dread a similar expulsion from his office, by a new violence.
The course of national misery resulting from national disorders always begins with financial embarrassment; by the destruction of capital, or its withdrawal from all useful works. Capital was circulated only because it could be circulated with security. If the present capitalists were driven away, as some reasoners would imply might easily be done, and the labourers were left to work the tools and steam-engines—to labour in the manufactories, and to inhabit the houses of the present capitalists,—production could not go on an hour, unless the appropriation of the plunder were secured to the individual plunderers.
In speaking of credit, then, we naturally turn to the only foundation upon which credit rests—the security of property. Commercial men, who know how easily credit is destroyed by individual guilt or imprudence, also know how easily it is interrupted, generally by a combination of circumstances over which an individual, apart from a nation, has no control. The instant that any circumstances take place which weaken the general confidence in the security of property, credit is withdrawn. The plant remains—the tools and warehouses stand—the shops are open; but production languishes, labour is suspended. The stocks of consumable commodities for the maintenance of labour may still in part exist, but they do not reach the labourer through the usual channels. Then men say, and say truly, confidence is shaken; the usual relations of society are disturbed. Capital fences itself round with prudence—hesitates to go on accumulating—refuses to put its existence in peril—withdraws in great part from production—
"Spreads its light wings, and in a moment flies."
Within these six years we have had before our eyes a fearful example of the universal evil created by the sudden loss of confidence in the security of property; The revolution of 1848, which overthrew the government of Louis Philippe, was associated with a general belief that the whole fabric of society was about to be shaken in the overthrow of capital. The capital was instantly withdrawn from circulation; there was no exchange; there was no labour. The more immediate sufferers were the workmen themselves; and the mode in which the ruling power relieved them by giving forced employment was wholly unavailing, except as a temporary expedient. After several dreadful months of tumult and bloodshed, a little confidence was restored by the pressure of an armed force; and when at length a government was established that rested upon security of property, it was hailed as the greatest of all blessings, although accompanied with some evils to which Englishmen, especially, cannot shut their eyes. When capital and labour could once more work in a safe union, France quickly developed those great natural resources with which she is blessed; and the ingenuity of her people was again called into activity, to carry forward and perfect those resources by higher and higher exertions of science and skill.