What is there that political economists have not been charged with? They have been accused, above all, of a cold heartedness and cruelty, and the sentence passed on them has been resumed in these words: “Political Economy has no bowels!” Indeed, the representative of the science, who has been most attacked and who has been held up as a picture of impassible insensibility; on whom have been heaped the most bloody outrages, [pg 044] is Malthus. Let us hear him. He tells us in his work on Political Economy, that if a country had no other means to grow rich, except by seeking for success in the struggle with other countries, at the cost of a reduction of the wages of labor, he would unhesitatingly say: Away with such riches; that it is much to be desired that the working classes should be well remunerated, and this for a reason much more important than all the considerations relating to wealth; that is, the happiness of the great mass of society. And he goes on to say, that he knows nothing more detestable than the idea of knowingly condemning the laboring classes to cover themselves with rags, to lodge in wretched huts, to enable us to sell a few more stuffs and calicoes to foreign countries. Certain it is, that no defender, however determined, of the laboring classes, has said anything stronger or more deeply felt. The reason is, that nothing was more foreign to Malthus' ideas than the systematic rigidity of mathematical theories of wealth; that, a minister of the Gospel, he had meditated on its high precepts. His whole doctrine is based on the moral idea. “He was profoundly convinced that there are principles in Political Economy which are true only in as far as they are restricted within certain limits. He saw the principal difficulty of the science in the frequent combination of complicated causes, in the action and reaction of causes on one another, and in the necessity of setting limits or making exceptions to a great number of important propositions.” Here we are ever brought back to the undulating ground of living science, instead of having to follow the rectilineal way traced out by the dead letter. We are always driven back, whatever may be pretended to the contrary, to the realities of which history alone possesses the secret. The idea of wealth cannot absorb everything when there is question of judging and enlightening men. To do this, it is necessary to know the various phases of social housekeeping, what nations have thought of economic interests [pg 045] which have never ceased to interest them greatly, what they have attempted and what they have attained.

Hence, we must turn over the leaves of the book of the past, and study its economic aspect, as we have studied its political and literary aspect. We must follow living nations through their divers periods of development, and fathom the causes of the destruction of those that are dead. When we are dealing with the comparative study of the economic destinies of nations, our investigations are limited to a small number of individual nations—a further reason not to omit any, and above all, to scrutinize, as an anatomist would with his scalpel, the principle of life of those which are no more. We may, by accounting to ourselves for the immense variety of phenomena which are brought to light by the application of principles to facts, and in which nothing is absolute or permanent, in which, on the contrary, everything is relative and successive, acquire that sureness of touch and correctness of vision which are among the most valuable conquests of science.

It would be a mistake to suppose that theory simplifies practical solutions. Far from providing us with a sort of formulary, it teaches us to put our finger on a number of difficulties. It brings to the surface the many aspects and fertile and varied considerations, the examination of which is the mission of the real statesman and legislator. In this way, the action of thought and the power of the moral idea are revealed with most Éclat. Man ceases to be an inert element, and manifests himself as a sensible being, and the sublime thought of Pascal: “Humanity is like one man who lives and learns always,” is verified by the result. The wish to violently abdicate the past, it would be vain and rash to attempt to realize. The lessons it transmits to us are as instructive as the picture it unrolls before our eyes is attractive. We have no longer but to see and hear, to be cured of the most generous impatience with what is, and to retreat from the most perilous attempts.