Mr. K. has a kettle, and Mr. P. has a pot. Mr. P. says to Mr. K., ‘I would rather have your kettle than my pot;’ and if, coincidently, Mr. K. is also in a discontented humour, and can say to Mr. P., ‘I would rather have your pot than my kettle,’ why—both Hanses [[209]]are in luck, and all is well; but is their carnivorous instinct thus to be satisfied? Carnivorous instinct says, in both cases, ‘I want both pot and kettle myself, and you to have neither,’ and is entirely unsatisfiable on the principle of exchange. The ineffable blockhead who wrote the paper forgot that the principle of division of labour underlies that of exchange, and does not arise out of it, but is the only reason for it. If Mr. P. can make two pots, and Mr. K. two kettles, and so, by exchange, both become possessed of a pot and a kettle, all is well. But the profit of the business is in the additional production, and only the convenience in the subsequent exchange. For, indeed, there are in the main two great fallacies which the rascals of the world rejoice in making its fools proclaim: the first, that by continually exchanging, and cheating each other on exchange, two exchanging persons, out of one pot, alternating with one kettle, can make their two fortunes. That is the principle of Trade. The second, that Judas’ bag has become a juggler’s, in which, if Mr. P. deposits his pot, and waits awhile, there will come out two pots, both full of broth; and if Mr. K. deposits his kettle, and waits awhile, there will come out two kettles, both full of fish! That is the principle of Interest.
However, for the present, observe simply the conclusion of our social science expositor, that “the art of exchange is the only proper mode of obtaining things from one another;” and now compare with this theory [[210]]that of old chivalry, namely, that gift was also a good way, both of losing and gaining.
“And after, in the dance, went
Largesse, that set all her intent
For to be honourable and free.
Of Alexander’s kin was she;
Her mostë joy was, I wis,
When that she gave, and said, ‘Have this.’[4]
Not Avarice, the foul caitiff,[5]
Was half, to gripe, so ententive,