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several steam engines in the Burdwan coal districts, and by other instances. Mr.

Campbell himself, greatly influenced as he is by the prejudices of the East India Company, is obliged to avow that the great mass of the Indian people possesses a great industrial energy, is well fitted to accumulate capital, and remarkable for a mathematical clearness of head and talent for figures and exact sciences. Their intellects, he says, are excellent. Modern industry, resulting from the railway system, will dissolve the hereditary divisions of labor, upon which rest the Indian castes, those decisive impediments to Indian progress and Indian power. All the English bourgeoisie may be forced to do will neither emancipate nor materially mend the social condition of the mass of the people, depending not only on the development of the productive powers, but on their appropriation by the people. But what they will not fail to do is to lay down the material premises for both. Has the bourgeoisie ever done more? Has it ever effected a progress without dragging individuals and people through blood and dirt, through misery and degradation? The Indians will not reap the fruits of the new elements of society scattered among them by the British bourgeoisie, till in Great Britain itself the now ruling classes shall have been supplanted by the industrial proletariat, or till the Hindoos themselves shall have grown strong enough to throw off the English yoke altogether. At all events, we may safely expect to see, at a more or less remote period, the regeneration of that great and interesting country, whose gentle natives are, to use the expression of Prince Soltykov, even in the most inferior classes, plus fins et plus adroits que les Italiens [more subtle and adroit than the Italians], a whose submission even is counterbalanced by a certain calm nobility, who, notwithstanding their natural langor, have astonished the British officers by their bravery, whose country has been the source of our languages, our religions, and who represent the type of the ancient German in the Jat, and the type of the ancient Greek in the Brahmin. I cannot part with the subject of India without some concluding remarks. The profound hypocrisy and inherent barbarism of bourgeois civilization lies unveiled before our eyes, turning from its home, where it assumes respectable forms, to the colonies, where it goes naked. They are the defenders of property, but did any revolutionary party ever originate agrarian revolutions like those in Bengal, in Madras, and in Bombay? Did they not, in India, to borrow an expression of. that great robber, Lord Clive himself, resort to atrocious extortion, when simple corruption could not keep pace with their rapacity? While they prated in Europe about the inviolable sanctity of the national debt, did they not confiscate in India the dividends of the rajahs, 171 who had invested their private savings in the Companys own funds? While they combatted the French revolution under the pretext of defending our holy religion, did they not forbid, at the same time, Christianity to be propagated in India, and did they not, in order to make money out of the pilgrims streaming to the temples of Orissa and Bengal, take up the trade in the murder and prostitution perpetrated in the temple of juggernaut? These are the men of Property, Order, Family, and Religion. The devastating effects of English industry, when contemplated with regard to India, a country as vast as Europe, and containing 150 millions of acres, are palpable and confounding. But we must not forget that

they are only the organic results of the whole system of production as it is now constituted. That production rests on the supreme rule of capital. The centralization of capital is essential to the existence of capital as an independent power. The destructive influence of that centralization upon the markets of the world does but reveal, in the most gigantic dimensions, the inherent organic laws of political economy now at work in every civilized town. The bourgeois period of history has to create the material basis of the new world on the one hand universal intercourse founded upon the mutual dependency of mankind, and the means of that intercourse; on the other hand the development of the productive powers of man and the transformation of material production into a scientific domination of natural agencies. Bourgeois industry and commerce create these material conditions of a new world in the same way as geological revolutions have created the surface of the earth. When a great social revolution shall have mastered the results of the bourgeois epoch, the market of the world and the modern powers of production, and subjected them to the common control of the most advanced peoples, then only will human progress cease to resemble that hideous, pagan idol, who would not drink the nectar but from the skulls of the slain.

Karl Marx in The New-York Tribune 1853 The East India Question Source: the New-York Daily Tribune, July 25, 1853; Transcribed: by Tony Brown.

Abstract London, Tuesday, July 12, 1853 The clauses of the India Bill are passing one by one, the debate scarcely offering any remarkable features, except the inconsistency of the so-called India Reformers. There is, for instance, my Lord Jocelyn, M. P. who has made a kind of political livelihood by his periodical denunciation of Indian wrongs, and of the maladministration of the East India Company. What do you think his amendment amounted to? To give the East India Company a lease for 10 years. Happily, it compromised no one but himself. There is another professional Reformer, Mr. Jos. Hume, who, during his long Parliamentary life, has succeeded in transforming opposition itself into a particular manner of supporting the ministry. He proposed not to reduce the number of East India Directors from 24 to 18. The only amendment of common sense, yet agreed to, was that of Mr. Bright, exempting Directors nominated by the Government from the qualification in East India Stock, imposed by the Directors elected by the Court of Proprietors. Go through the pamphlets published by the East Indian Reform Association, and you will feel a similar sensation as when, hearing of one great act of accusation against Bonaparte, devised in common by Legitimists, Orleanists, Blue and Red Republicans, and even disappointed Bonapartists. Their only merit until now has been to draw public attention to Indian affairs in general, and further they cannot go in their present form of eclectic opposition. For instance, while they attack the doings of the English aristocracy in India, they protest against the destruction of the Indian aristocracy of native princes. After the British intruders had once put their feet on India, and made up their mind to hold it, there remained no alternative but to break the power of the native princes by force or by intrigue. Placed with regard to them in similar circumstances as the ancient Romans with regard to their allies, they followed in the track of Roman politics. It was, says an English writer, a system of fattening allies, as we fatten oxen, till they were worthy of being devoured. After having won over their allies in the way of ancient Rome, the East India Company executed them in the modern manner of Change-Alley. In order to discharge the engagements they had entered into with the Company, the native princes were forced to borrow enormous sums from Englishmen at usurious interest. When their embarrassment had reached the highest pitch, the creditor got inexorable, the screw was turned and the princes were compelled either to concede their territories amicably to the Company, or to begin war; to become pensioners on

their usurpers in one case, or to be deposed as traitors in the other. At this moment the native States occupy an area of 699,961 square miles, with a population of 52,941,263 souls, being, however, no longer the allies, but only the dependents of the British Government, upon multifarious conditions, and under the various forms of the subsidiary and of the protective systems. These systems have in common the relinquishment, by the native States of the right of self-defense, of maintaining diplomatic relations, and of settling the disputes among themselves without the interference of the Governor-General. All of them have to pay a tribute, either in hard cash, or in a contingent of armed forces commanded by British officers. The final absorption or annexation of these native States is at present eagerly controverted between the Reformers who denounce it as a crime, and the men of business who excuse it as a necessity. In my opinion the question itself is altogether improperly put. As to the native States they virtually ceased to exist from the moment they became subsidiary to or protected by the Company. If you divide the revenue of a country between two governments, you are sure to cripple the resources of the one and the administration of both. Under the present system the native States succumb under the double incubus of their native Administration and the tributes and inordinate military establishments imposed upon them by the Company. The conditions under which they are allowed to retain their apparent independence are at the same time the conditions of a permanent decay, and of an utter inability of improvement. Organic weakness is the constitutional law of their existence, as of all existences living upon sufferance. It is, therefore, not the native States, but the native Princes and Courts about whose maintenance the question revolves. Now, is it not a strange thing that the same men who denounce the barbarous splendors of the Crown and Aristocracy of England are shedding tears at the downfall of Indian Nabobs, Rajahs, and Jagheerdars, the great majority of whom possess not even the prestige of antiquity, being generally usurpers of very recent date, set up by English intrigue! There exists in the whole world no despotism more ridiculous, absurd and childish than that of those Schazenans and Schariars of the Arabian Nights. The Duke of Wellington, Sir J. Malcolm, Sir Henry Russell, Lord Ellenborough, General Briggs, and other authorities, have pronounced in favor of the status quo; but on what grounds? Because the native troops under English rule want employment in the petty warfares with their own countrymen, in order to prevent them from turning their strength against their own European masters. Because the existence of independent States gives occasional employment to the English troops. Because the hereditary princes are the most servile tools of English despotism, and check the rise of those bold military adventurers with whom India has and ever will abound. Because the independent territories afford a refuge to all discontented and enterprising native spirits. Leaving aside all these arguments, which state in so many words that the native princes are the strongholds of the present abominable English system and the greatest obstacles to Indian progress, I come to Sir Thomas Munro and Lord Elphinstone, who were at least men of superior genius, and of real sympathy for the Indian people. They think that without a native aristocracy there can be no energy in any other class of the community, and that the subversion of that aristocracy will not raise but debase a whole people. They may be right as long as the natives, under direct English rule, are systematically excluded from all superior offices, military and civil. Where there can be no great men by their own exertion, there must be great men by birth, to leave to a conquered people some greatness of their own. That exclusion, however, of the native people from the English territory, has been effected only by the maintenance of

the hereditary princes in the so-called independent territories. And one of these two concessions had to be made to the native army, on whose strength all British rule in India depends. I think we may trust the assertion of Mr. Campbell, that the native Indian Aristocracy are the least enabled to fill higher offices; that for all fresh requirements it is necessary to create a fresh class; and that from the acuteness and aptness to learn of the inferior classes, this can be done in India as it can be done in no other country. The native princes themselves are fast disappearing by, the extinction of their houses; but, since the commencement of this century, the British Government has observed the policy of allowing them to make heirs by adoption,or of filling up their vacant seats with puppets of English creation. The great Governor-General, Lord Dalhousie, was the first to protest openly, against this system. Were not the natural course of things artificially resisted, there would be wanted neither wars nor expenses to do away with the native princes. As to the pensioned princes, the 2,468,969 assigned to them by the British Government on the Indian revenue is a most heavy charge upon a people living on rice, and deprived of the first necessaries of life. If they are good for anything, it is for exhibiting Royalty in its lowest stage of degradation and ridicule. Take, for instance, the Great Mogul, the descendant of Timour Tamerlane: He is allowed 120,000 a year. His authority does not extend beyond the walls of his palace, within which the Royal idiotic race, left to itself, propagates as freely as rabbits. Even the police of Delhi is held by Englishmen above his control. There he sits on his throne, a little shriveled yellow old man, trimmed in a theatrical dress, embroidered with gold, much like that of the dancing girls of Hindostan. On certain State occasions, the tinsel-covered puppet issues forth to gladden the hearts of the loyal. On his days of reception strangers have to pay a fee, in the form of guineas, as to any other saltimbanque exhibiting himself in public; while he, in his turn, presents them with turbans, diamonds, etc. On looking nearer at them, they find that the Royal diamonds are, like so many pieces of ordinary glass, grossly painted and imitating as roughly as possible the precious stones, and jointed so wretchedly, that they break in the hand like gingerbread. The English money-lenders, combined with the English Aristocracy, understand, we must own, the art of degrading Royalty, reducing it to the nullity of constitutionalism at home, and to the seclusion of etiquette abroad. And now, here are the Radicals, exasperated at this spectacle! Karl Marx

Karl Marx in The New-York Tribune 1853 India

Source: the New-York Daily Tribune, August 5, 1853; Transcribed: by Tony Brown.
Abstract London, Tuesday, July 19, 1853 The progress of the India bill through the Committee has little interest. It is significant, that all amendments are thrown out now by the Coalition coalescing with the Tories against their own allies of the Manchester School. The actual state of India may be illustrated by a few facts. The Home Establishment absorbs 3 per cent. of the net revenue, and the annual interest for Home Debt and Dividends 14 per cent-together 17 per cent. If we deduct these annual remittances from India to England, the military charges amount to about two-thirds of the whole expenditure available for India, or to 66 per cent., while the charges for Public Works do not amount to more than 2 3/4 per cent. of the general revenue, or for Bengal 1 per cent., Agra 7 3/4, Punjab 1/8, Madras 1/2, and Bombay 1 per cent. of their respective revenues. These figures are the official ones of the Company itself. On the other hand nearly three-fifths of the whole net revenue are derived from the land, about oneseventh from opium, and upward of one-ninth from salt. These resources together yield 85 per cent. of the whole receipts. As to minor items of receipts and charges, it may suffice to state that the Moturpha revenue maintained in the Presidency of Madras, and levied on shops, looms, sheep, cattle, sundry professions, &c., yields somewhat about 50,000, while the yearly dinners of the East India House cost about the same sum. The great bulk of the revenue is derived from the land. As the various kinds of Indian land-tenure have recently been described in so many places, and in popular style, too, I propose to limit my observations on the subject to a few general remarks on the Zemindari and Ryotwar systems. The Zemindari and the Ryotwar were both of them agrarian revolutions, effected by British ukases, and opposed to each other, the one aristocratic, the other democratic; the one a caricature of English landlordism, the other of French peasant-proprietorship; but pernicious, both combining the most

contradictory character both made not for the people, who cultivate the soil, nor for the holder, who owns it, but for the Government that taxes it. By the Zemindari system, the people of the Presidency of Bengal were depossessed at once of their hereditary claims to the soil, in favor of the native tax gatherers called Zemindars. By the Ryotwar system introduced into the Presidencies of Madras and Bombay, the native nobility, with their territorial claims, meras sees, jagheers, &c., were reduced with the common people to the holding of minute fields, cultivated by themselves in favor of the Collector of the East India Company." But a curious sort of English landlord was the Zemindar, receiving only one-tenth of the rent, while he had to make over nine-tenths of it to the Government. A curious sort of French peasant was the Ryot, without any permanent title in the soil, and with the taxation changing every year in proportion to his harvest. The original class of Zemindars, notwithstanding their unmitigated and uncontrolled rapacity against the depossessed mass of the ex-hereditary landholders, soon melted away under the pressure of the Company, in order to be replaced by mercantile speculators who now hold all the land of Bengal, with exception of the estates returned under the direct management of the Government. These speculators have introduced a variety of the Zemindari tenure called patnee. Not content to be placed with regard to the British Government in the situation of middlemen, they have created in their turn a class of hereditary middlemen called patnetas, who created again their sub-patnetas, &c., so that a perfect scale of hierarchy of middlemen has sprung up, which presses with its entire weight on the unfortunate cultivator. As to the Ryots in Madras and Bombay, the system soon degenerated into one of forced cultivation, and the land lost all its value. The land, says Mr. Campbell, would be sold for balances by the Collector, as in Bengal, but generally is not, for a very good reason, viz.: that nobody will buy it. Thus, in Bengal, we have a combination of English landlordism, of the Irish middlemen system, of the Austrian system, transforming the landlord into the tax-gatherer, and of the Asiatic system making the State the real landlord. In Madras and Bombay we have a French peasant proprietor who is at the same time a serf, and a mtayer of the State. The drawbacks of all these various systems accumulate upon him without his enjoying any of their redeeming features. The Ryot is subject, like the French peasant, to the extortion of the private usurer; but he has no hereditary, no permanent title in his land, like the French peasant. Like the serf he is forced to cultivation, but he is not secured against want like the serf. Like the mtayer he has to divide his produce with the State, but the State is not obliged, with regard to him, to advance the funds and the stock, as it is obliged to do with regard to themtayer. In Bengal, as in Madras and Bombay, under the Zemindari as under the Ryotwar, the Ryots-and they form 11-12ths of the whole Indian population have been wretchedly pauperized; and if they are, morally speaking, not sunk as low as the Irish cottiers, they owe it to their climate, the men of the South being possessed of less wants, and of more imagination than the men of the North. Conjointly with the land-tax we have to consider the salt-tax. Notoriously the Company retain the monopoly of that article which they sell at three times its mercantile value and this in a country where it is furnished by the sea, by the lakes, by the mountains and the earth itself. The practical working of this monopoly was described by the Earl of Albemarle in the following words:

A great proportion of the salt for inland consumption throughout the country is purchased from the Company by large wholesale merchants at less than 4 rupees per maund; these mix a fixed proportion of sand, chiefly got a few miles to the south-east of Dacca, and send the mixture to a second, or, counting the Government as the first, to a third monopolist at about 5 or 6 rupees. This dealer adds more earth or ashes, and thus passing through more bands, from the large towns to villages, the price is still raised from 8 to 10 rupees and the proportion of adulteration from 25 to 40 per cent. *...+ It appears the n that the people [...] pay from 21, 17s. 2d. to 27, 6s. 2d. for their salt, or in other words, from 30 to 36 times as much as the wealthy people of Great Britain. As an in stance of English bourgeois morals, I may allege, that Mr. Campbell defends the Opium monopoly because it prevents the Chinese from consuming too much of the drug, and that he defends the Brandy monopoly (licenses for spirit-selling in India) because it has wonderfully increased the consumption of Brandy in India. The Zemindar tenure, the Ryotwar, and the salt tax, combined with the Indian climate, were the hotbeds of the cholera Indias ravages upon the Western World a striking and severe example of the solidarity of human woes and wrongs. Karl Marx

Karl Marx in The New-York Tribune 1853 In the House of Commons

Source: the New-York Daily Tribune, August 16, 1853; Transcribed: by Tony Brown.
Abstract London, Tuesday, Aug. 2, 1853 The India bill has passed on Friday through its last stage, after the Ministerial propositions for raising the Directors and Chairmens salaries had been rejected, and the latter reduced to 900 and 1,000 respectively. The Special Court of East India Proprietors which met on Friday last, offered a most lugubrious spectacle, the desponding cries and speeches clearly betraying the apprehensions of the worthy proprietors, that the Indian Empire might have been their property for the better time. One right honorable gentleman gave notice of his intention to move resolutions in the House of Commons rejecting the present bill, and on the part of the Proprietors and Directors declining to accept the part assigned to them by the Ministerial measure. A strike of the honorable East India Proprietors and Directors. Very striking, indeed! The Abolition of the Companys Salt-monopoly by the British House of Commons was the first step to bringing the finances of India under its direct management.

Karl Marx in Neue Oder-Zeitung 1855 News from India

Source: the Neue Oder-Zeitung,, February 20, 1855; Transcribed: by Andy Blunden.

Abstract London, February 16. The latest news from India is important because it describes the deplorable state of business in Calcutta and Bombay. In the manufacturing districts the crisis is slowly but surely advancing. The owners of spinning-mills of fine yarn in Manchester decided at a meeting held the day before yesterday only to open their factories four days a week from February 26 and in the meantime to call on the manufacturers in the surrounding area to follow their example. In the factories in Blackburn, Preston and Bolton notice has already been given to the workers that there will henceforth only be short time. The fact that in the past year many manufacturers have tried to force the markets by circumventing the commission-houses and taking their export business into their own hands means that bankruptcies will be all the larger in number and in size. The Manchester Guardian admitted last Wednesday that there was overproduction not only of manufactured goods but also of factories. Marked with the sign


The Crimean War 1853 1855

Karl Marx and Frederick Engels 1853 Extracts from the New York Tribune on the Crimean War

From Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, The Russian Menace to Europe, edited by Paul Blackstock and Bert Hoselitz, and published by George Allen and Unwin, London, 1953, pp 121-202. Scanned and prepared for the Marxist Internet Archive by Paul Flewers.

Originally published in New York Tribune, 7 April 1853.

Prince Mentschikoff, after reviewing the Russian forces stationed in the Danubian Principalities, and after an inspection of the army and fleet at Sebastopol, where he caused manoeuvres of embarking and disembarking troops to be executed under his own eyes, entered Constantinople in the most theatrical style on 28 February, attended by a suite of twelve persons, including the Admiral of the Russian squadron in the Black Sea, a General of Division, and several staff officers, with Count Nesselrode, junior, as Secretary of the Embassy. He met with such a reception from the Greek and Russian inhabitants as if he were the orthodox Tsar himself entering Tsarigrad to restore it to the true faith. An enormous sensation was created here and at Paris by the news that Prince Mentschikoff, not satisfied with the dismissal of Fuad Effendi, had demanded that the Sultan should abandon to the Emperor of Russia not only the protection of all the Christians in Turkey, but also the right of nominating the Greek Patriarch; that the Sultan had appealed to the protection of England and France; that Colonel Rose, the British Envoy, had despatched the steamer Wasp in haste to Malta to request the immediate presence of the English fleet in the Archipelago, and that Russian vessels had anchored at Kili, near the Bosphorus. The Paris Moniteur informs us that the French Squadron at Toulon has been ordered to the Grecian waters. Admiral Dundas, however, is still at Malta. From all this it is evident that the Eastern Question is once more on the European ordre du jour, a fact not astonishing for those who are acquainted with history. Whenever the revolutionary hurricane has subsided for a moment, one ever-recurring question is sure to turn up: the eternal Eastern Question. Thus, when the storms of the first French Revolution had

passed, and Napoleon and Alexander of Russia had divided, after the peace of Tilsit, the whole of Continental Europe between themselves, Alexander profited by the momentary calm to march an army into Turkey, and to give a lift to the forces that were breaking up, from within, that decaying empire. Again, no sooner had the revolutionary movements of Western Europe been quelled by the Congresses of Laibach and Verona, than Alexanders successor, Nicholas, made another dash at Turkey. When, a few years later, the revolution of July, with its concomitant insurrections in Poland, Italy, Belgium, had had its turn, and Europe, as remodelled in 1831, seemed out of reach of domestic squalls, the Eastern Question in 1840 appeared on the point of embroiling the Great Powers in a general war. And now, when the short-sightedness of the ruling pigmies prides itself on having successfully freed Europe from the dangers of anarchy and revolution, up starts again the everlasting topic, the never-failing difficulty: What shall we do with Turkey? Turkey is the living sore of European legitimacy. The impotency of legitimate, monarchical government, ever since the first French Revolution, has resumed itself in the one axiom: Keep up the status quo. A testimonium paupertatis, an acknowledgment of the universal incompetence of the ruling powers, for any purpose of progress or civilisation, is seen in this universal agreement to stick to things as by chance or accident they happen to be. Napoleon could dispose of a whole continent at a moments notice; aye, and dispose of it, too, in a manner that showed both genius and fixedness of purpose. The entire collective wisdom of European legitimacy, assembled in Congress at Vienna, took a couple of years to do the same job; got at loggerheads over it, made a very sad mess indeed of it, and found it such a dreadful bore that ever since they have had enough of it, and have never tried their hands again at parcelling out Europe. Myrmidons of mediocrity, as Beranger calls them; without historical knowledge or insight into facts, without ideas, without initiative, they adore the status quo they themselves have bungled together, knowing what a bungling and blundering piece of workmanship it is. But Turkey no more than the rest of the world remains stationary; and just when the reactionary party has succeeded in restoring in civilised Europe what they consider to be the status quo ante, it is perceived that in the meantime the status quo in Turkey has been very much altered; that new questions, new relations, new interests have sprung up, and that the poor diplomatists have to begin again where they were interrupted by a general earthquake some eight or ten years before. Keep up the status quo in Turkey! Why, you might as well try to keep up the precise degree of putridity into which the carcass of a dead horse has passed at a given time, before dissolution is complete. Turkey goes on decaying, and will go on decaying as long as the present system of balance of power and maintenance of the status quo goes on; and in spite of congresses, protocols and ultimatums it will produce its yearly quota of diplomatic difficulties and international squabbles quite as every other putrid body will supply the neighbourhood with a due allowance of carburetted hydrogen and other wellscented gaseous matter. Let us look at the question at once. Turkey consists of three entirely distinct portions: the vassal principalities of Africa, viz, Egypt and Tunis; Asiatic Turkey; and European Turkey. The African possessions, of which Egypt alone may be considered as really subject to the Sultan, may be left for the moment out of the question. Egypt belongs more to the English than to anybody else, and will and must

necessarily form their share in any future partition of Turkey. Asiatic Turkey is the real seat of whatever strength there is in the empire; Asia Minor and Armenia, for four hundred years the chief abode of the Turks, form the reserved ground from which the Turkish armies have been drawn, from those that threatened the ramparts of Vienna, to those that dispersed before Diebitschs not very skilful manoeuvres at Kulewtscha. Turkey in Asia, although thickly populated, yet forms too compact a mass of Mussulman fanaticism and Turkish nationality to invite at present any attempts at conquest; and, in fact, whenever the Eastern Question is mooted, the only portions of this territory taken into consideration are Palestine and the Christian valleys of the Lebanon. The real point at issue always is Turkey in Europe the great peninsula to the south of the Save and Danube. This splendid territory has the misfortune to be inhabited by a conglomerate of different races and nationalities, of which it is hard to say which is the least fit for progress and civilisation. Slavonians, Greeks, Wallachians, Arnauts, twelve millions of men, are all held in submission by one million of Turks, and up to a recent period, it appeared doubtful whether, of all these different races, the Turks were not the most competent to hold the supremacy which, in such a mixed population, could not but accrue to one of these nationalities. But when we see how lamentably have failed all attempts at civilisation by Turkish authority how the fanaticism of Islam, supported principally by the Turkish mob in a few great cities, has availed itself of the assistance of Austria and Russia invariably to regain power and to overturn any progress that might have been made; when we see the central, that is, Turkish, authority weakened year after year by insurrections in the Christian provinces, none of which, thanks to the weakness of the Porte and to the intervention of neighbouring states, is ever completely fruitless; when we see Greece acquire her independence, parts of Armenia conquered by Russia Moldavia, Wallachia, Serbia, successively placed under the protectorate of the latter power we shall be obliged to admit that the presence of the Turks in Europe is a real obstacle to the development of the resources of the ThracoIllyrian Peninsula. We can hardly describe the Turks as the ruling class of Turkey, because the relations of the different classes of society there are as mixed up as those of the various races. The Turk is, according to localities and circumstances, workman, farmer, small free-holder, trader, feudal landlord in the lowest and most barbaric stage of feudalism, civil officer or soldier; but in all these different social positions he belongs to the privileged creed and nation he alone has the right to carry arms, and the highest Christian has to give up the footpath to the lowest Moslem he meets. In Bosnia and the Herzegovina, the nobility, of Slavonian descent, have passed over to Islam, while the mass of the people remain Rayahs, that is, Christians. In this province then, the ruling creed and the ruling class are identified, as of course the Moslem Bosnian is upon a level with his co-religionist of Turkish descent. The principal power of the Turkish population in Europe, independently of the reserve always ready to be drawn from Asia, lies in the mob of Constantinople and a few other large towns. It is essentially Turkish, and though it finds its principal livelihood by doing jobs for Christian capitalists, it maintains with great jealousy the imaginary superiority and real impunity for excesses which the privileges of Islam confer upon it as compared with Christians. It is well known that this mob in every important coup d'tat has to be won over by bribes and flattery. It is this mob alone, with the exception of a few colonised districts, which offers a compact and imposing mass of Turkish population in Europe. And

certainly there will be, sooner or later, an absolute necessity for freeing one of the finest parts of this continent from the rule of a mob, compared with which the mob of Imperial Rome was an assemblage of sages and heroes. Among the other nationalities, we may dispose in a very few words of the Arnauts, a hardy aboriginal mountain people, inhabiting the country sloping towards the Adriatic, speaking a language of their own, which, however, appears to belong to the great Indo-European stock. They are partly Greek Christians, partly Moslems, and, according to all we know of them, as yet very unprepared for civilisation. Their predatory habits will force any neighbouring government to hold them in close military subjection, until industrial progress in the surrounding districts shall find them employment as hewers of wood and drawers of water; the same as has been the case with the Gallegas in Spain, and the inhabitants of mountainous districts generally. The Wallachians or Daco-Romans, the chief inhabitants of the district between the Lower Danube and the Dniester, are a greatly mixed population, belonging to the Greek Church and speaking a language derived from the Latin, and in many respects not unlike the Italian. Those of Transylvania and the Bukowina belong to the Austrian, those of Bessarabia to the Russian Empire; those of Moldavia and Wallachia, the only two principalities where the Daco-Roman race has acquired a political existence, have princes of their own, under the nominal suzerainty of the Porte and the real dominion of Russia. Of the Transylvanian Wallachians we heard much during the Hungarian War; hitherto oppressed by the feudalism of Hungarian landlords who were, according to the Austrian system, made at the same time the instruments of all government exactions, this brutalised mass was, in like manner as the Ruthenian serfs of Galicia in 1846, won over by Austrian promises and bribes, and began that war of devastation which has made a desert of Transylvania. The Daco-Romans of the Turkish Principalities have at least a native nobility and political institutions; and in spite of all the efforts of Russia, the revolutionary spirit has penetrated among them, as the insurrection of 1848 well proved. There can hardly be a doubt that the exactions and hardships inflicted upon them during the Russian occupation since 1848 must have raised this spirit still higher, in spite of the bond of common religion and Tsaro-Popish superstition which has hitherto led them to look upon the Imperial chief of the Greek Church as their natural protector. And if this is the case, the Wallachian nationality may yet play an important part in the ultimate disposal of the territories in question. The Greeks of Turkey are mostly of Slavonic descent, but have adopted the modern Hellenic language; in fact, with the exception of a few noble families of Constantinople and Trebizond, it is now generally admitted that very little pure Hellenic blood is to be found even in Greece. The Greeks, along with the Jews, are the principal traders in the seaports and many inland towns. They are also tillers of the soil in some districts. In all cases, neither their number, compactness, nor spirit of nationality, gives them any political weight as a nation, except in Thessaly and perhaps Epirus. The influence held by a few noble Greek families as dragomans (interpreters) in Constantinople is fast declining, since Turks have been educated in Europe, and European legations have been provided with attachs who speak Turkish. We now come to the race that forms the great mass of the population and whose blood is preponderant wherever a mixture of races has occurred. In fact, it may be said to form the principal stock of the

Christian population from the Morea to the Danube, and from the Black Sea to the Arnaut Mountains. This race is the Slavonic race, and more particularly that branch of it which is resumed under the name of Illyrian (Ilirski), or South Slavonian (Yugoslavyanski). After the Western Slavonian (Polish and Bohemian), and Eastern Slavonian (Russian), it forms the third branch of that numerous Slavonic family which for the last twelve hundred years has occupied the East of Europe. These southern Slavonians occupy not only the greater part of Turkey, but also Dalmatia, Croatia, Slavonia and the South of Hungary. They all speak the same language, which is much akin to the Russian, and by far, to the Western ears, the most musical of all Slavonic tongues. The Croatians and part of the Dalmatians are Roman Catholics; all the remainder belong to the Greek Church. The Roman Catholics use the Latin alphabet, but the followers of the Greek Church write their language in the Cyrillian character, which is also used in the Russian and old Slavonic or Church language. This circumstance, combined with the difference of religion, has contributed to retard any national development embracing the whole South Slavonic territory. A man in Belgrade may not be able to read a book printed in his own language at Agram or Petch, he may object even to take it up, on account of the heterodox alphabet and orthography used therein; while he will have little difficulty in reading and understanding a book printed at Moscow in the Russian language, because the two idioms, particularly in the old Slavonic etymological system of orthography, look very much alike, and because the book is printed in the orthodox (pravoslavni) alphabet. The mass of the Greek Slavonians will not even have their Bible, liturgies and prayer-books printed in their own country, because they are convinced that there is a peculiar correctness and orthodoxy and odour of sanctity about anything printed in holy Moscow or in the imperial printing establishment of St Petersburg. In spite of all the Panslavistic efforts of Agram and Prague enthusiasts, the Servian, the Bulgarian, the Bosnian Rayah, the Slavonian peasant of Macedonia and Thracia, has more national sympathy, more points of contact, more means of intellectual intercourse with the Russian than with the Roman Catholic South Slavonian who speaks the same language. Whatever may happen, he looks to St Petersburg for the advent of the Messiah who is to deliver him from all evil; and if he calls Constantinople his Tsarigrad, or Imperial City, it is as much in anticipation of the orthodox Tsar coming from the north and entering it to restore the true faith, as in recollection of the orthodox Tsar who held it before the Turks overran the city. Subjected in the greater part of Turkey to the direct rule of the Turk, but under local authorities of their own choice, partly (in Bosnia) converted to the faith of the conqueror, the Slavonian race has, in that country, maintained or conquered political existence in two localities. The one is Servia, the valley of the Morava, a province with well-defined natural lines of frontier, which played an important part in the history of these regions six hundred years ago. Subdued for a while by the Turks, the Russian War of 1809 gave it a chance of obtaining a separate existence, though under the Turkish supremacy. It has remained ever since under the immediate protection of Russia. But, as in Moldavia and Wallachia, political existence has brought new wants, and forced upon Servia an increased intercourse with Western Europe. Civilisation began to take root, trade extended, new ideas sprang up, and thus we find in the very heart and stronghold of Russian influence, in Slavonic or orthodox Servia, an anti-Russian Progressive party (of course very modest in its demands of reform), headed by the ex-Minister of Finances, Garaschanin.

There is no doubt that, should the Greco-Slavonian population ever obtain the mastery in the land which it inhabits, and where it forms three-fourths of the whole population (seven millions), the same necessities would by-and-by give birth to an anti-Russian Progressive party, the existence of which has been hitherto the inevitable consequence of any portion of it having become semi-detached from Turkey. In Montenegro we have not a fertile valley with comparatively large cities, but a barren mountain country difficult of access. Here a set of robbers have fixed themselves, scouring the plains, and storing their plunder in their mountain fastnesses. These romantic but rather uncouth gentlemen have long been a nuisance in Europe, and it is but in keeping with the policy of Russia and Austria that they should stick up for the rights of the Black Mountain people (Tserno-Gorgi) to burn down villages, burn the inhabitants, and carry off the cattle. II

Originally published in New York Tribune, 11 April 1853.

In ancient Greece an orator who was paid to remain silent was said to have an ox on his tongue. The ox, be it remarked, was a silver coin imported from Egypt. With regard to The Times, we may say that, during the whole period of the revived Eastern Question, it also had an ox on its tongue, if not for remaining silent, at least for speaking. There is no doubt that the Russian bear will not draw in his paws until he is assured of a momentary entente cordiale between England and France. Now mark the following wonderful coincidence. On the very day when The Times was trying to persuade my lords Aberdeen and Clarendon that the Turkish affair was a mere squabble between France and Russia, the roi des drles, as Guizot used to call him, M Granier de Cassagnac, happened to discover in the Constitutionnel that it was nothing but a quarrel between Lord Palmerston and the Tsar. Truly, when we read these papers, we understand the Greek orators with Macedonian oxen on their tongues at the times when Demosthenes fulminated his Phillipics. As for the British aristocracy, represented by the Coalition Ministry, they would, if need be, sacrifice the national English interests to their particular class interests, and permit the consolidation of a juvenile despotism in the East in the hopes of finding a support for their valetudinarian oligarchy in the West. As to Louis Napoleon, he is hesitating. All his predilections are on the side of the autocrat whose system of governing he has introduced into France; and all his antipathies are against England, whose parliamentary system he has destroyed there. Besides, if he permits the Tsars plundering in the East, the Tsar will perhaps permit him to plunder in the West. On the other hand, he is quite sure of the feelings of the Holy Alliance with regard to the parvenu Khan. Accordingly he observes an ambiguous policy, striving to dupe the great powers of Europe as he duped the parliamentary parties of the French

National Assembly. While fraternising ostentatiously with the English Ambassador for Turkey, Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, he simultaneously cajoles the Russian Princess de Lieven with the most flattering promises, and sends to the court of the Sultan M De la Cour, a warm advocate of an Austro-French alliance, in contradistinction to an Anglo-French one. He orders the Toulon fleet to sail to the Grecian waters, and then announces the day afterward, in the Moniteur, that this had been done without any previous communication with England. While he orders one of his organs, the Pays, to treat the Eastern Question as most important to France, he allows the statement of his other organ, the Constitutionnel, that Russian, Austrian and English interests are at stake in this question, but that France has only a very remote interest in it, and is therefore in a wholly independent position. Which will outbid the other, Russia or England? That is the question with him. III

Originally published in New York Tribune, 12 April 1853.

We are astonished that in the current discussion of the Oriental question the English journals have not more boldly demonstrated the vital interests which should render Great Britain the earnest and unyielding opponent of the Russian projects of annexation and aggrandisement. England cannot afford to allow Russia to become the possessor of the Dardanelles and Bosphorus. Both commercially and politically such an event would be a deep if not a deadly blow at British power. This will appear from a simple statement of facts as to her trade with Turkey. Before the discovery of the direct route to India, Constantinople was the mart of an extensive commerce; and even now, though the products of India find their way into Europe by the overland route through Persia, Teheran and Turkey, yet the Turkish ports carry a very important and rapidly increasing traffic both with Europe and the interior of Asia. To understand this it is only necessary to look at the map. From the Black Forest to the sandy heights of Novgorod Veliki, the whole inland country is drained by rivers flowing into the Black or Caspian Seas. The Danube and the Volga, the two giant rivers of Europe, the Dniester, Dnieper and Don, all form so many natural channels for the carriage of inland produce to the Black Sea for the Caspian itself is only accessible through the Black Sea. Two-thirds of Europe that is, a part of Germany and Poland, all Hungary, and the most fertile parts of Russia, besides Turkey in Europe are thus naturally referred to the Euxine for the export and exchange of their produce; and the more so as all these countries are essentially agricultural, and the great bulk of their products must always make water carriage the predominant means of transport. The corn of Hungary, Poland, Southern Russia, the wool and the hides of the same countries, appear in yearly increasing quantities in our Western markets, and they are all shipped at Galatz, Odessa, Taganrog and other Euxine ports. Then there is another important branch of trade carried on in the Black Sea. Constantinople and particularly Trebizond in Asiatic Turkey are the chief marts of the caravan trade to the interior of Asia, to the valley of the Euphrates and Tigris, to Persia and Turkestan. This trade, too, is rapidly increasing. The Greek and Armenian merchants of the two towns just named import large

quantities of English manufactured goods, the low price of which is rapidly superseding the domestic industry of the Asiatic harems. Trebizond is better situated for such trade than any other point. It has in its rear the hills of Armenia, which are far less impassable than the Syrian desert, and it lies at a convenient proximity to Bagdad, Schiraz and Teheran, which latter place serves as an intermediate mart for the caravans from Khiva and Bokhara. How important this trade, and the Black Sea trade generally, is becoming may be seen at the Manchester Exchange, where dark-complexioned Greek buyers are increasing in numbers and importance, and where Greek and South Slavonian dialects are heard along with German and English. The trade of Trebizond is also becoming a matter of most serious political consideration, as it has been the means of bringing the interests of Russia and England anew into conflict in inner Asia. The Russians had, up to 1840, an almost exclusive monopoly of the trade in foreign manufactured goods to that region. Russian goods were found to have made their way, and, in some instances, even to be preferred to English goods, as far down as the Indus. Up to the time of the Afghan War, the conquest of Sindh and the Punjab, it may be safely asserted that the trade of England with inner Asia was nearly nil. The fact is now different. The supreme necessity of a never-ceasing expansion of trade the fatum which spectrelike haunts modern England, and, if not appeased at once, brings on these terrible revulsions which vibrate from New York to Canton, and from St Petersburg to Sidney this inflexible necessity has caused the interior of Asia to be attacked from two sides by English trade: from the Indus and from the Black Sea; and although we know very little of the exports of Russia to that part of the world, we may safely conclude from the increase of English exports to that quarter that the Russian trade in that direction must have sensibly fallen off. The commercial battlefield between England and Russia has been removed from the Indus to Trebizond, and the Russian trade, formerly venturing out as far as the limits of Englands Eastern Empire, is now reduced to the defensive on the very verge of its own line of customhouses. The importance of this fact with regard to any future solution of the Eastern Question, and to the part which both England and Russia may take in it, is evident. They are, and always must be, antagonists in the East. But let us come to a more definite estimate of the Black Sea trade. According to The London Economist, the British exports to the Turkish dominions, including Egypt and the Danubian Principalities, were: In 1840 1,440,592 In 1842 2,068,342 In 1844 3,271,333 In 1846 2,707,571 In 1848 3,626,241 In 1850 3,762,480 In 1851 3,548,595 Of these amounts, at least, two-thirds must have gone to ports in the Black Sea, including Constantinople. And all this rapidly increasing trade depends upon the confidence that may be placed in the power which rules the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, the keys to the Black Sea. Whoever holds

these can open and shut at his pleasure the passage into this last recess of the Mediterranean. Let Russia once come into possession of Constantinople, who will expect her to keep open the door by which England has invaded her commercial domain? So much for the commercial importance of Turkey, and especially the Dardanelles. It is evident that not only a very large trade, but the principal intercourse of Europe with Central Asia, and, consequently, the principal means of re-civilising that vast region, depends upon the uninterrupted liberty of trading through these gates to the Black Sea. Now for the military considerations. The commercial importance of the Dardanelles and Bosphorus at once makes them first-rate military positions; that is, positions of decisive influence in any war. Such a point is Gibraltar, and such is Helsingor on the Sound. But the Dardanelles are, from the nature of their locality, even more important. The cannons of Gibraltar or Helsingor cannot command the whole of the strait on which they are situated, and they require the assistance of a fleet in order to close it; while the narrowness of the strait at the Dardanelles and of the Bosphorus is such that a few properly erected and well-armed fortifications, such as Russia, once in possession, would not tarry an hour to erect, might defy the combined fleets of the world if they attempted a passage. In that case, the Black Sea would be more properly a Russian Lake than even the Lake of Ladoga, situated in its very heart. The resistance of the Caucasians would be starved out at once; Trebizond would be a Russian port; the Danube a Russian river. Besides, when Constantinople is taken, the Turkish Empire is cut in two. Asiatic and European Turkey have no means of communicating with or supporting each other; and while the strength of the Turkish army, repulsed into Asia, is utterly harmless, Macedonia, Thessaly, Albania, outflanked and cut off from the main body, will not put the conqueror to the trouble of subduing them; they will have nothing left but to beg for mercy and for an army to maintain internal order. But having come thus far on the way to universal empire, is it probable that this gigantic and swollen power will pause in its career? Circumstances, if not her own will, forbid it. With the annexation of Turkey and Greece she has excellent seaports, while the Greeks furnish skilful sailors for her navy. With Constantinople, she stands on the threshold of the Mediterranean; with Durazzo and the Albanian coast from Antivari to Arta, she is in the very centre of the Adriatic; within sight of the British Ionian Islands, and within thirty-six hours steaming of Malta. Flanking the Austrian dominions on the north, east and south, Russia will already count the Hapsburgs among her vassals. And then, another question is possible, is even probable. The broken and undulating western frontier of the Empire, ill-defined in respect of natural boundaries, would call for rectification; and it would appear that the natural frontier of Russia runs from Dantsic, or perhaps Stettin, to Trieste. And as sure as conquest follows conquest, and annexation follows annexation, so sure would the conquest of Turkey by Russia be only the prelude for the annexation of Hungary, Prussia, Galicia, and for the ultimate realisation of the Slavonic Empire which certain fanatical Panslavistic philosophers have dreamed of. Russia is decidedly a conquering nation, and was so for a century, until the great movement of 1789 called into potent activity an antagonist of formidable nature. We mean the European Revolution, the explosive force of democratic ideas and mans native thirst for freedom. Since that epoch there have been in reality but two powers on the continent of Europe Russia and Absolutism, the Revolution and

Democracy. For the moment the Revolution seems to be suppressed, but it lives and is feared as deeply as ever. Witness the terror of the reaction at the news of the late rising at Milan. But let Russia get possession of Turkey, and her strength is increased nearly half, and she becomes superior to all the rest of Europe put together. Such an event would be an unspeakable calamity to the revolutionary cause. The maintenance of Turkish independence, or, in case of a possible dissolution of the Ottoman Empire, the arrest of the Russian scheme of annexation, is a matter of the highest moment. In this instance the interests of the revolutionary Democracy and of England go hand in hand. Neither can permit the Tsar to make Constantinople one of his capitals, and we shall find that when driven to the wall, the one will resist him as determinedly as the other. IV

Originally published in New York Tribune, 19 April 1853.

It is only of late that people in the west of Europe and in America have been enabled to form anything like a correct judgement of Turkish affairs. Up to the Greek insurrection Turkey was, to all intents and purposes, a terra incognita, and the common notions floating about among the public were based more upon the Arabian Nights Entertainment than upon any historical facts. Official diplomatic functionaries, having been on the spot, boasted amore accurate knowledge; but this, too, amounted to nothing, as none of these officials ever troubled himself to learn Turkish, South Slavonian or modern Greek, and they were one and all dependent upon the interested accounts of Greek interpreters and Frank merchants. Besides, intrigues of every sort were always on hand to occupy the time of these lounging diplomatists, among whom Joseph von Hammer, the German historian of Turkey, forms the only honourable exception. The business of these gentlemen was not with the people, the institutions, the social state of the country: it was exclusively with the court, and especially with the Fanariote Greeks, wily mediators between two parties, either of which was equally ignorant of the real condition, power and resources of the other. The traditional notions and opinions, founded upon such paltry information, formed for a long while and, strange to say, form to a great extent, even now, the groundwork for all the action of Western diplomacy with regard to Turkey. But while England, France and, for a long time, even Austria, were groping in the dark for a defined Eastern policy, another power outwitted them all. Russia, herself semi-Asiatic, in her condition, manners, traditions and institutions, found men enough who could comprehend the real state and character of Turkey. Her religion was the same as that of nine-tenths of the inhabitants of Turkey in Europe; her language almost identical with that of seven millions of Turkish subjects; and the wellknown facility with which a Russian learns to converse in, if not fully to appropriate, a foreign tongue made it an easy matter for her agents, well paid for the task, to acquaint themselves completely with Turkish affairs. Thus at a very early period the Russian government availed itself of its exceedingly favourable position in the south-east of Europe. Hundreds of Russian agents perambulated Turkey, pointing out to the Greek Christians the orthodox Emperor as the head, the natural protector and the

ultimate liberator of the oppressed Eastern Church, and to the South Slavonians especially, pointing out that same emperor as the almighty Tsar, who was sooner or later to unite all the branches of the great Slav race under one sceptre, and to make them the ruling race of Europe. The clergy of the Greek Church very soon formed themselves into a vast conspiracy for the spread of these ideas. The Servian insurrection of 1809, the Greek rising in 1821, were more or less directly urged on by Russian gold and Russian influence; and wherever among the Turkish pashas the standard of revolt was raised against the Central government Russian intrigues and Russian funds were never wanting; and when thus internal Turkish questions had entirely perplexed the understanding of Western diplomatists, who knew no more about the real subject than about the man in the moon, then war was declared, Russian armies marched towards the Balkans, and portion by portion the Ottoman Empire was dismembered. It is true that during the last thirty years much has been done towards general enlightenment concerning the state of Turkey. German philologists and critics have made us acquainted with its history and literature; English residents and English trade have collected a great deal of information as to the social condition of the Empire. But the diplomatic wiseacres seem to scorn all this, and to cling as obstinately as possible to the traditions engendered by the study of Eastern fairy-tales, improved upon by the no less wonderful accounts given by the most corrupt set of Greek mercenaries that ever existed. And what has been the natural result? That in all essential points Russia has steadily, one after another, gained her ends, thanks to the ignorance, dullness and consequent inconsistency and cowardice of Western governments. From the battle of Navarino to the present Eastern crisis, the action of the Western powers has either been annihilated by squabbles among themselves mostly arising from their common ignorance of Eastern matters, and from petty jealousies which must have been entirely incomprehensible to any Eastern understanding or that action has been in the direct interest of Russia alone. And not only do the Greeks, both of Greece and Turkey, and the Slavonians, look to Russia as their natural protector; nay, even the government at Constantinople, despairing, time after time, to make its actual wants and real position understood by these Western ambassadors, who pride themselves upon their own utter incompetency to judge by their own eyes of Turkish matters, this very Turkish government has, in every instance, been obliged to throw itself upon the mercy of Russia, and to seek protection from that power which openly avows its firm intention to drive every Turk across the Bosphorus, and plant the cross of St Andrew upon the minarets of the Aya-Sofiyah. In spite of diplomatic tradition, these constant and successful encroachments of Russia have at last roused in the Western cabinets of Europe a very dim and distant apprehension of the approaching danger. This apprehension has resulted in the great diplomatic nostrum, that the maintenance of the status quo in Turkey is a necessary condition of the peace of the world. The magniloquent incapacity of certain modern statesmen could not have confessed its ignorance and helplessness more plainly than in this axiom which, from always having remained a dead letter, has, during the short period of twenty years, been hallowed by tradition, and become as hoary and indisputable as King Johns Magna Carta. Maintain the status quo! Why, it was precisely to maintain the status quo that Russia stirred up Servia to revolt, made Greece independent, appropriated to herself the protectorate of Moldavia and Wallachia, and retained part of Armenia! England and France never stirred an inch when all this was done, and the only time they did move was to protect, in 1849, not Turkey, but the Hungarian refugees. In the eyes of

European diplomacy, and even of the European press, the whole Eastern Question resolves itself into this dilemma; either the Russians at Constantinople, or the maintenance of the status quo anything besides this alternative never enters their thoughts. Look at the London press for illustration. We find The Times advocating the dismemberment of Turkey, and proclaiming the unfitness of the Turkish race to govern any longer in that beautiful corner of Europe. Skilful, as usual,The Times boldly attacks the old diplomatic tradition of the status quo, and declares its continuance impossible. The whole of the talent at the disposal of that paper is exerted to show this impossibility under different aspects, and to enlist British sympathies for a new crusade against the remnant of the Saracens. The merit of such an unscrupulous attack upon a time-hallowed and unmeaning phrase which two months ago was as yet sacred to The Timesis undeniable. But whoever knows that paper knows also that this unwonted boldness is applied directly in the interest of Russia and Austria. The correct premises put forth in its columns as to the utter impossibility of maintaining Turkey in its present state serve no other purpose than to prepare the British public and the world for the moment when the principal paragraph of the will of Peter the Great the conquest of the Bosphorus will have become an accomplished fact. The opposite opinion is represented by The Daily News, the organ of the Liberals. The Times, at least, seizes a new and correct feature of the question, in order afterwards to pervert it to an interested purpose. In the columns of the Liberal journal, on the other hand, reigns the plainest sense, but merely a sort of household sense. Indeed, it does not see farther than the very threshold of its own house. It clearly perceives that a dismemberment of Turkey under the present circumstances must bring the Russians to Constantinople, and that this would be a great misfortune for England; that it would threaten the peace of the world, ruin the Black Sea trade, and necessitate new armaments in the British stations and fleets of the Mediterranean. And in consequence The Daily News exerts itself to arouse the indignation and fear of the British public. Is not the partition of Turkey a crime equal to the partition of Poland? Have not the Christians more religious liberty in Turkey than in Austria and Russia? Is not the Turkish government a mild, paternal government, which allows the different nations and creeds and local corporations to regulate their own affairs? Is not Turkey a paradise compared with Austria and Russia? Are not life and property safe there? And is not British trade with Turkey larger than that with Austria and Russia put together, and does it not increase every year? And then goes on in dithyrambic strain, so far as The Daily News can be dithyrambic, with an apotheosis of Turkey, the Turks and everything Turkish, which must appear quite incomprehensible to most of its readers. The key to this strange enthusiasm for the Turks is to be found in the works of David Urquhart, Esq, MP. This gentleman, of Scotch birth, with mediaeval and patriarchal recollections of home, and with a modem British civilised education, after having fought three years in Greece against the Turks, passed into their country and was the first thus to enamour himself of them. The romantic Highlander found himself at home again in the mountain ravines of the Pindus and Balkans, and his works on Turkey, although full of valuable information, may be summed up in the following three paradoxes, which are laid down almost literally thus: If Mr Urquhart were not a British subject, he would decidedly prefer being a Turk; if he were not a Presbyterian Calvinist, he would not belong to any other religion than Islamism; and thirdly, Britain and Turkey are the only two countries in the world which enjoy self-

government and civil and religious liberty. This same Urquhart has since become the great Eastern authority for all English Liberals who object to Palmerston, and it is he who supplies The Daily News with the materials for these panegyrics upon Turkey. The only argument which deserves a moments notice upon this side of the question is this: It is said that Turkey is decaying; but where is the decay? Is not civilisation rapidly spreading in Turkey and trade extending? Where you see nothing but decay our statistics prove nothing but progress. Now it would be a great fallacy to put down the increasing Black Sea trade to the credit of Turkey alone; and yet this is done here, exactly as if the industrial and commercial capabilities of Holland, the high road to the greater part of Germany, were to be measured by her gross exports and imports, nine-tenths of which represent a mere transit. And yet, what every statistician would immediately, in the case of Holland, treat as a clumsy concoction, the whole of the Liberal press of England, including the learned Economist, tries, in the case of Turkey, to impose upon public credulity. And then, who are the traders in Turkey? Certainly not the Turks. Their way of promoting trade, when they were yet in their original nomadic state, consisted in robbing caravans; and now that they are a little more civilised it consists in all sorts of arbitrary and oppressive exactions. Remove all the Turks out of Europe, and trade will have no reason to suffer. And as to progress in general civilisation, who are they that carry out that progress in all parts of European Turkey? Not the Turks, for they are few and far between, and can hardly be said to be settled anywhere except in Constantinople and two or three small country districts. It is the Greek and Slavonic middle class in all the towns and trading posts who are the real support of whatever civilisation is effectually imported into the country. That part of the population is constantly rising in wealth and influence, and the Turks are more and more driven into the background. Were it not for their monopoly of civil and military power they would soon disappear. But that monopoly has become impossible for the future, and their power is turned into impotence except for obstructions in the way of progress. The fact is, they must be got rid of. To say that they cannot be got rid of except by putting Russians and Austrians in their place means as much as to say that the present political constitution of Europe will last for ever. Who will make such an assertion? V

Originally published in New York Tribune, 9 June 1853.

On Saturday last dispatches were received by telegraph from Brussels and Paris with news from Constantinople to 13 May. Immediately after their arrival a Cabinet Council was held at the Foreign Office, which sat three hours and a half. On the same day orders were sent by telegraph to the Admiralty at Portsmouth, directing the departure of two steam-frigates the London, 90, and Sanspareil, 71 from Spithead for the Mediterranean. The High-flyer steam-frigate, 21, and Oden steam-frigate, 16, are also under orders for sea.

What were the contents of these dispatches which threw the ministers into so sudden an activity, and interrupted the quiet dullness of England? You know that the question of the Holy Shrines had been settled to the satisfaction of Russia; and, according to the assurances of the Russian Embassy at Paris and London, Russia asked for no other satisfaction than a priority share in those Holy Places. The objects of Russian diplomacy were merely of such a chivalric character as were those of Frederic Barbarossa and Richard Coeur de Lion. This, at least, we were told by The Times. But [says the Journal des Dbats] on 5 May the Russian steam-frigate Bessarabia arrived from Odessa, having on board a Russian colonel with dispatches from Prince Mentschikoff; and on Saturday, 7th inst, the Prince handed to the Ministers of the Porte the draft of a convention or special treaty in which the new demands and pretensions were set forth. This is the document called the ultimatum, since it was accompanied by a very brief note, fixing Tuesday, 10 May, as the last day on which the refusal or acceptance of the Divan could be received. The note terminated in nearly the following words: If the Sublime Porte should think proper to respond by refusal, the Emperor would be compelled to see in that act a complete want of respect for his person, and for Russia, and would receive intelligence of it with profound regret. The principal object of this treaty was to secure to the Emperor of Russia the Protectorate of all Greek Christians subject to the Porte. By the Treaty of Kutchuk-Kainardji, concluded at the close of the eighteenth century, a Greek chapel was allowed to be erected at Constantinople, and the privilege was granted to the Russian Embassy of interfering in cases of collision between the priests of that chapel and the Turks. This privilege was confirmed again in the Treaty of Adrianople. What Prince Mentschikoff now demands is the conversion of the exceptional privilege into the general Protectorate of the whole Greek Church in Turkey, that is, of the vast majority of the population of Turkey in Europe. Besides, he asks that the Patriarchs of Constantinople, Antioch, Alexandria and Jerusalem, as well as the Metropolitan Archbishops, shall be immovable, unless proved guilty of high treason (against the Russians), and then only upon the consent of the Tsar; in other words, he demands the resignation of the Sultans sovereignty into the hands of Russia. This was the news brought by the telegraph on Saturday; firstly, that Prince Mentschikoff had granted a further delay until 14th inst for the answer to his ultimatum; that then a change in the Turkish Ministry ensued, Reschid Pasha, the antagonist of Russia, being appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs, and Fuad Effendi reinstated in his office; lastly, that the Russian ultimatum had been rejected. It would have been impossible for Russia to make more extensive demands upon Turkey after a series of signal victories. This is the best proof of the obstinacy with which she clings to her inveterate notion that every interregnum of the counter-revolution in Europe constitutes a right for her to exact concessions from the Ottoman Empire. And, indeed, since the first French Revolution Continental retrogression has ever been identical with Russian progress in the East. But Russia is mistaken in confounding the present state of Europe with its condition after the congresses of Laibach and Verona, or even after the peace of Tilsit. Russia herself is more afraid of the revolution that must follow any

general war on the Continent than the Sultan is afraid of the aggression of the Tsar. If the other powers hold firm, Russia is sure to retire in a very decent manner. Yet, be this as it may, her late manoeuvres have, at all events, imparted a mighty impetus to the elements engaged in disorganising Turkey from within. The only question is this: does Russia act on her own free impulse, or is she but the unconscious and reluctant slave of the modern fatum, Revolution? I believe the latter alternative. VI

Originally published in New York Tribune, 14 June 1853.

Admiral Corrys fleet has been seen in the Bay of Biscay on the way to Malta, where it is to reinforce the squadron of Admiral Dundas. The Morning Herald justly observes: Had Admiral Dundas been permitted to join the French squadron at Salamis, several weeks ago, the present state of affairs would be quite different. Should Russia attempt, were it only for the salvation of appearances to back up the ridiculous demonstrations of Mentschikoff by actual manoeuvres of war, her first two steps would probably consist in the reoccupation of the Danubian Principalities, and in the invasion of the Armenian province of Kars and the port of Batum, territories which she made every effort to secure by the Treaty of Adrianople. The port of Batum being the only safe refuge for ships in the eastern part of the Black Sea, its possession would deprive Turkey of her last naval station in the Pontus and make the latter an exclusively Russian Sea. This port added to the possession of Kars, the richest and best cultivated portion of Armenia, would enable Russia to cut off the commerce of England with Persia by way of Trebizond, and afford a basis of operations against the latter power, as well as against Asia Minor. If, however, England and France hold firm, Nicholas will no more carry out his projects in that quarter, than the Empress Catherine carried out hers against Aga Mahmed, when he commanded his slaves to drive the Russian Ambassador Voinovitch and his companions with scourges to their ships, away from Asterabad. In no quarter did the latest news create greater consternation than in Printing-House Square. The first attempt made by The Times to lift up its head under the terrible blow was a desperate diatribe against the electric telegraph, that most extraordinary instrument. No correct conclusions could be drawn, it exclaimed, from that mendacious wire. Having thus laid its own incorrect conclusions to the fault of the electric wire, The Times, after the statement of Ministers in Parliament, endeavours now also to get rid of its ancient correct promises. It says: Whatever may be the ultimate fate of the Ottoman Empire, or rather of that Mohammedan power which has ruled it for four centuries, there can be no difference of opinion between all parties in this country and in Europe, that the gradual progress of the indigenous Christian population towards civilisation and independent government is the interest of the world, and that these races of men ought

never to be suffered to fall under the yoke of Russia and to swell her gigantic dominions. On that point we confidently hope, that the resistance offered to these pretensions of Russia, would be not only that of Turkey, but of all Europe; and this spirit of annexation and aggrandisement needs but to display itself in its true shape to excite universal antipathy and an insurmountable opposition, in which the Greek and Slavonian subjects of Turkey are themselves prepared to take a great part. How did it happen that the poor Times believed in the good faith of Russia towards Turkey, and her antipathy against all aggrandisement? The good will of Russia towards Turkey! Peter I proposed to raise himself on the ruins of Turkey. Catherine persuaded Austria, and called upon France, to participate in the proposed dismemberment of Turkey, and the establishment of a Greek Empire at Constantinople, under her grandson who had been educated and even named with a view to this result. Nicholas, more moderate, only demands the exclusive Protectorate of Turkey. Mankind will not forget that Russia was the protector of Poland, the protector of the Crimea, the protector of Courland, the protector of Georgia, Mingrelia, the Circassian and Caucasian tribes. And now Russia, the protector of Turkey! As to Russias antipathy against aggrandisement, I allege the following facts from a mass of the acquisitions of Russia since Peter the Great. The Russian frontier has advanced: Towards Berlin, Dresden and Vienna about 700 miles. Towards Constantinople 500 miles. Towards Stockholm 630 miles. Towards Teheran 1000 miles. Russias acquisitions from Sweden are greater than what remains of that kingdom; from Poland, nearly equal to the Austrian Empire; from Turkey in Europe, greater than Prussia (exclusive of the Rhenish Provinces); from Turkey in Asia, as large as the whole dominion of Germany proper; from Persia, equal to England; from Tartary, to an extent as large as European Turkey, Greece, Italy and Spain, taken together. The total acquisitions of Russia during the last sixty years are equal in extent and importance to the whole Empire she had in Europe before that time. VII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 22 June 1853.

All the Russian Generals and other Russians residing at Paris have received orders to return to Russia without delay. The language adopted by M de Kisseleff, the Russian envoy at Paris, is rather menacing; and letters from Petersburg are ostentatiously shown by him, in which the Turkish question is treated assez cavalirement. A rumour has issued from the same quarter, reporting that Russia demands from Persia the cession of the territory of Asterabad, at the south-eastern extremity of the Caspian Sea. Russian merchants, at the same time, despatch, or are reported to have despatched, orders

to their London agents not to press any sales of grain at the present juncture, as prices were expected to rise in the imminent eventuality of a war. Lastly, confidential hints are being communicated to every newspaper that the Russian troops are marching to the frontier; that the inhabitants of Jassy are preparing for their reception; that the Russian Consul at Galatz has brought up an immense number of trees for the throwing of several bridges across the Danube, and other canards, the breeding of which has been so successfully carried on by the Augsburger Zeitung and other Austro-Russian journals. These, and a lot of similar reports, communications, etc, are nothing but so many ridiculous attempts on the part of the Russian agents to strike a wholesome terror into the Western world, and to push it to the continuance of that policy of extension, under the cover of which Russia hopes, as heretofore, to carry out her projects upon the East... Notwithstanding all these soporifics, administered by Russian diplomacy to the press and people of England, that old and obstinate Aberdeen has been compelled to order Admiral Dundas to join the French fleet on the coast of Turkey; and even The Times, which, during the last few months, knew only how to write Russian, seems to have received a more English inspiration. It talks now very big... VIII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 8 July 1853.

In the year 1828, when Russia was permitted to overrun Turkey with war, and to terminate that war by the Treaty of Adrianople, which surrendered to her the whole of the eastern coast of the Black Sea, from Anapa in the north to Poti in the south (except Circassia), and delivered into her possession the islands at the mouth of the Danube, virtually separated Moldavia and Wallachia from Turkey, and placed them under Russian supremacy at that epoch Lord Aberdeen happened to be Minister of Foreign Affairs in Great Britain. In 1853 we find the very same Aberdeen as the chief of the Composite Ministry in the same country. This simple fact goes far to explain the overbearing attitude assumed by Russia in her present conflict with Turkey and with Europe. I told you in my last letter that the storm aroused by the revelations of The Press, respecting the secret transactions between Aberdeen, Clarendon and Baron Brunnow, was not likely to subside under the hair-splitting, tortuous and disingenuous pleading of Thursdays Times. The Times was even then forced to admit, in a semi-official article, that Lord Clarendon had indeed given his assent to the demands about to be made by Russia on the Porte, but said that the demands as represented in London, and those actually proposed at Constantinople, had turned out to be of quite a different tenor, although the papers communicated by Baron Brunnow to the British Minister purported to be literal extracts from the instructions forwarded to Prince Mentschikoff. On the following Saturday, however, The Times retracted its assertions undoubtedly in consequence of remonstrances made on the part of the Russian Embassy and gave Baron Brunnow a testimonial of perfect candour and faith. The Morning

Herald of yesterday puts the question whether Russia had not perhaps given false instructions to Baron Brunnow himself, in order to deceive the British Minister. In the meantime, fresh disclosures, studiously concealed from the public by a corrupt daily press, have been made, which exclude any such interpretation, throwing the whole blame on the shoulders of the Composite Ministry, and quite sufficient to warrant the impeachment of Lords Aberdeen and Clarendon before any other parliament than the present, which is but a paralytic product of dead constituencies artificially stimulated into life by unexampled bribery and intimidation. It is stated that a communication was made to Lord Clarendon, wherein he was informed that the affair of the Shrines was not the sole object of the Russian Prince. In that communication the general question was entered into, the question of the Greek Christians of Turkey and of the position of the Emperor of Russia with respect to them under certain treaties. All these points were canvassed, and the course about to be adopted by Russia explicitly stated the same as detailed in the projected Convention of 6 May. Lord Clarendon, with the assent of Lord Aberdeen, in no wise either disapproved or discouraged that course. While matters stood thus in London, Bonaparte sent his fleet to Salamis, public opinion pressed from without, Ministers were interpellated in both Houses, Russell pledged himself to the maintenance of the integrity and independence of Turkey, and Prince Mentschikoff threw off the mask at Constantinople. It now became necessary for Lords Aberdeen and Clarendon to initiate the other Ministers into what had been done, and the Coalition was on the eve of being broken up, as Lord Palmerston, forced by his antecedents, urged a directly opposite line of policy. In order to prevent the dissolution of his Cabinet, Lord Aberdeen finally yielded to Lord Palmerston, and consented to the combined action of the English and French fleets in the Dardanelles. But at the same time, in order to fulfil his engagements towards Russia, Lord Aberdeen intimated through a private despatch to St Petersburg that he would not look upon the occupation of the Danubian Principalities by the Russians as a casus belli and The Times received orders to prepare public opinion for this new interpretation of international treaties... The dissension in the camp of the Coalition Ministry has thus been betrayed to the public by the clamorous dissension in their organs. Palmerston urged upon the Cabinet to hold the occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia as a declaration of war, and he was backed up by the Whig and sham-Radical members of the Composite Ministry. Lord Aberdeen, having only consented to the common action of the French and English fleets upon the understanding that Russia would not act at the Dardanelles, but in the Danubian Provinces, was now quite outwitted. The existence of the government was again at stake. At last, at the pressing instances of Lord Aberdeen, Palmerston was prepared to give a sullen assent to the unchallenged occupation of the Principalities by Russia, when suddenly a despatch arrived from Paris announcing that Bonaparte had resolved to view the same act as a casus belli. The confusion has now reached its highest point. Now, if this statement be correct and from our knowledge of Lord Aberdeens past there is every reason to consider it as such the whole mystery of the Russo-Turkish tragi-comedy that has occupied Europe for months together is laid bare. We understand at once why Lord Aberdeen would not move the British fleet from Malta. We understand the rebuke given to Colonel Rose for his resolute conduct at Constantinople, the bullying behaviour of Prince Mentschikoff, and the heroic firmness of the Tsar, who,

conceiving the warlike movements of England as a mere farce, would have been glad to be allowed, by the uncontroverted occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia, not only to withdraw from the stage as the master, but to hold his annual grand manoeuvres at the cost and expense of the subjects of the Sultan. We believe that, if war should break out, it will be because Russia has gone too far to withdraw with impunity to her honour; and above all, we believe her courage to be up to this notch simply because she has all the while counted on Englands connivance... IX

Originally published in New York Tribune, 25 July 1853.

A despatch from Constantinople, dated 26th ult [June], states: The Sultan, in consequence of the rumours that the whole Russian fleet has left Sebastopol and is directing its course towards the Bosphorus, has inquired of the Ambassadors of England and France whether, in the event of the Russians making a demonstration before the Bosphorus, the combined fleets are ready to pass the Dardanelles. Both answered in the affirmative. A Turkish steamer, with French and English officers on board, has just been sent from the Bosphorus to the Black Sea in order to reconnoitre. The first thing the Russians did, after their entry into the Principalities, was to prohibit the publication of the Sultans firman, confirming the privileges of all kinds of Christians, and to suppress a German paper, edited at Bucharest, which had dared to publish an article on the Eastern question. At the same time, they pressed from the Turkish government the first annuity stipulated for in their former occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia, in 1848-49. Since 1828 the Protectorate of Russia has cost the Principalities 150,000,000 piastres, besides the immense losses caused through pillage and devastation. England defrayed the expenses of Russias wars against France, France that of her war against Persia, Persia that of her war against Poland; Hungary and the Principalities have now to pay for her war against Turkey. The most important event of the day is the new Circular Note of Count Nesselrode, dated St Petersburg, 20 June 1853. It declares that the Russian armies will not evacuate the Principalities until the Sultan shall have yielded to all the demands of the Tsar, and the French and English fleets shall have left the Turkish waters. The Note in question reads like direct scorn of England and France. Thus it says: The position taken by the two maritime powers is a maritime occupation which gives us a reason for re-establishing the equilibrium of the reciprocal situations by taking up a military position. Be it remarked that Besika Bay is at a distance of 150 miles from Constantinople. The Tsar claims for himself the right of occupying Turkish territory, while he defies England and France to occupy neutral waters without his special permission. He extols his own magnanimous forbearance in having left the Porte complete mistress of choosing under what form she will abdicate her sovereignty whether convention, sened or other synallagmatic act, or even under the form of signing a simple note. He is

persuaded that impartial Europe must understand that the treaty of Kainardji, which gives Russia the right of protecting a single Greek chapel at Stamboul, proclaims her eo ipsothe Rome of the Orient. He regrets that the West is ignorant of the inoffensive character of a Russian religious Protectorate in foreign countries. He proves his solicitude for the integrity of the Turkish Empire by historical facts the very moderate use he made in 1829 of his victory at Adrianople, when he was only prevented from being immoderate by the miserable condition of his army, and by the threat of the English admiral, that, authorised or not authorised, he would bombard every coast-place along the Black Sea; when all he obtained was due to the forbearance of the Western Cabinets, and the perfidious destruction of the Turkish fleets at Navarino. In 1833 he alone in Europe saved Turkey from inevitable dismemberment. In 1833 the Tsar concluded, through the famous treaty of Unkiar-Skelessi, a defensive alliance with Turkey, by which foreign fleets were forbidden to approach Constantinople, by which Turkey was saved only from dismemberment in order to be saved entire for Russia. In 1839, he took the initiative with the other powers in the propositions which, executed in common, prevented the Sultan from seeing his throne give place to a new Arabian Empire. That is to say, in 1839 he made the other powers take the initiative in the destruction of the Egyptian fleet, and in the reduction to impotence of the only man who might have converted Turkey into a vital danger to Russia, and replaced a dressed-up turban by a real head. The fundamental principle of the policy of our august master has always been to maintain, as long as possible, thestatus quo of the East. Just so. He has carefully preserved the decomposition of the Turkish state, under the exclusive guardianship of Russia. It is granted that a more ironical document the East has never dared to throw in the face of the West. But its author is Nesselrode a nettle, at once and a rod. It is a document, indeed, of Europes degradation under the rod of counter-revolution. Revolutionists may congratulate the Tsar on this masterpiece. If Europe withdraws, she withdraws not with a simple defeat, but passes, as it were, under furcae Caudinae. X

Originally published in New York Tribune, 5 August 1853.

The Tsar has not only commenced war, he has already terminated his first campaign. The line of operations is no longer behind the Pruth, but along the Danube. Meanwhile, what are the Western powers about? They counsel, that is, compel, the Sultan to consider the war as peace. Their answers to the acts of the Autocrat are not cannons, but notes. The Emperor is assailed, not by the two fleets, but by no less than four projects of negotiation: one emanating from the English Cabinet, the other from the French, the third presented by Austria, and the fourth improvised by the brother-in-law of Potsdam. The Tsar, it is hoped, will consent to select from this embarras de richesses that which is most suitable to his purposes. The (second) reply of M Drouyn de l'Huys to the (second) note of Count Nesselrode takes infinite pains to prove that it was not England and France who made the first demonstration. Russia only throws out so many notes to the Western diplomats, like bones to dogs, in order to set them at an

innocent amusement, while she reaps the advantage of further gaining time. England and France, of course, catch the bait... The English press has lost all countenance. The Tsar cannot comprehend the courtesy which the Western powers have shown to him... He is incapable of courteous demeanour in his transactions with other powers. So saysThe Morning Advertiser. The Morning Post is exasperated because the Tsar takes so little note of the internal embarras of his opponents: To have put forward, in the mere wantonness of insolence, a claim that possessed no character of immediate urgency, and to have done so without any reference to the inflammable state of Europe, was an indiscretion almost incredible. The writer of the Money Market article in The Economist finds out that men discover now to their cost how inconvenient it is that all the most secret interests of the world [that is, of the Exchange] are dependent upon the vagaries of one man. Yet in 1848 and 1849 you could see the bust of the Emperor of Russia side by side with the golden calf itself. Meanwhile the position of the Sultan is becoming every hour more difficult and complicated. His financial embarrassments increase the more, as he bears all burdens, without reaping any of the good chances, of war. Popular enthusiasm turns round upon him for want of being directed against the Tsar. The fanaticism of the Mussulman threatens him with palace revolutions, while the fanaticism of the Greek menaces him with popular insurrections. The papers of today contain reports of a conspiracy directed against the Sultans life by Mussulman students belonging to the old Turkish party, who wanted to place Abdul-Aziz on the throne. To sum up the Eastern Question in a few words. The Tsar, vexed and dissatisfied at seeing his immense empire confined to one sole port of export, and that even situated in a sea unnavigable through one half of the year, and assailable by Englishmen through the other half, is pushing the design of his ancestors, to get access to the Mediterranean; he is separating, one after the other, the remotest members of the Ottoman Empire from its main body, till at last Constantinople, the heart, must cease to beat. He repeats his periodical invasions as often as he thinks his designs on Turkey endangered by the apparent consolidation of the Turkish government, or by the more dangerous symptoms of self-emancipation manifest amongst the Slavonians. Counting on the cowardice and apprehensions of the Western powers, he bullies Europe, and pushes his demands as far as possible, in order to appear magnanimous afterwards, by contenting himself with what he immediately wanted. The Western powers, on the other hand, inconsistent, pusillanimous, suspecting each other, commence by encouraging the Sultan to resist the Tsar, from fear of the encroachments of Russia, and terminate by compelling the former to yield, from fear of a general war giving rise to a general revolution. Too impotent and too timid to undertake the reconstruction of the Ottoman Empire by the establishment of a Greek Empire, or of a Federal Republic of Slavonic States, all they aim at is to maintain the status quo,

that is, the state of putrefaction which forbids the Sultan to emancipate himself from the Tsar, and the Slavonians to emancipate themselves from the Sultan. The revolutionary party can only congratulate itself on this state of things. The humiliation of the reactionary Western governments, and their manifest impotency to guard the interests of European civilisation against Russian encroachment, cannot fail to work out a wholesome indignation in the people who have suffered themselves, since 1849, to be subjected to the rule of counter-revolution. The approaching industrial crisis, also, is affected, and accelerated quite as much by this semi-Eastern complication as by the completely Eastern complication of China. While the prices of corn are rising, business in general is suspended, at the same time that the rate of exchange is setting against England, and gold is beginning to flow to the Continent. The stock of bullion in the Bank of France has fallen off between 9 June and 14 July to the extent of 2,200,000, which is more than the entire augmentation which had taken place during the preceding three months. XI

Originally published in New York Tribune, 5 August 1853.

The Klnische Zeitung, in a letter dated Vienna, 11 July, contains the following report on the Smyrna affair: Shekib Effendi has been sent to Smyrna in order to commence an instruction against the authors of the sedition in which Baron Hackelberg perished. Shekib has also received orders to deliver to Austria the refugees of Austrian or Tuscan origin. Mr Brown, charg d'affaires of the United States, has had communications on this subject with Reschid Pasha, the result of which is not yet known. I hear at this moment that the assassin of Baron Hackelberg has received from the American Consul at Smyrna a passport that places him out of the reach of the Turkish authorities. This fact proves that the United States intend intervening in European affairs. It is also certain that three American men-of-war are with the Turkish fleet in the Bosphorus, and further, that the American frigate Cumberland has brought 80,000,000 of piastres to the Turkish government. Whatever truth there be in this and like reports, they prove one thing; viz, that American intervention is expected everywhere, and is even looked upon with favour by portions of the English public. The behaviour of the American Captain and Consul are loudly praised in popular meetings, and an Englishman in The Advertiser of yesterday called upon the Stars and Stripes to appear in the Mediterranean, and to shame the muddy old Union Jack into activity. XII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 12 August 1853.

It is our policy to see that nothing new happens during the next four months, and I hope we shall accomplish it, because men in general prefer waiting; but the fifth must be fruitful in events. Thus wrote Count Pozzo di Borgo on 28 November 1828, to Count Nesselrode, and Count Nesselrode is now acting on the same maxim. While the military assumption of the Principalities was completed by the assumption of their civil government by the Russians, while troops after troops are pouring into Bessarabia and the Crimea, a hint has been given to Austria that her mediation might be accepted, and another to Bonaparte that his proposals were likely to meet with a favourable reception from the Tsar. The Ministers at Paris and London were comforted with the prospect that Nicholas would condescend definitely to accept their excuses. All the Courts of Europe, transformed into so many Sultanas, were anxiously awaiting which of them the magnanimous Commander of the Faithful would throw his handkerchief to. Having kept them in this manner for weeks, many for months, in suspense, Nicholas suddenly makes the declaration that neither England, nor France, nor Austria, nor Prussia, has any business in his quarrel with Turkey, and that with Turkey alone he could negotiate. It was probably in order to facilitate his negotiations with Turkey that he recalled his Embassy from Constantinople. But while he declares that the powers are not to meddle in Russias concerns, we are informed, on the other hand, that the representatives of France, England, Austria and Prussia kill their time by meeting in conference at Vienna, and in hatching projects for the arrangement of the Eastern Question, neither the Turkish nor Russian Ambassador participating in these mock conferences. The Sultan had appointed, on the 8th inst, a warlike Ministry, in order to escape from his armed suspension, but was compelled by Lord Redcliffe to dismiss it on the same evening. He has now been so much confused that he intends to send an Austrian courier to St Petersburg with the mission of asking whether the Tsar would re-enter into direct negotiations. On the return of that courier and the answer he brings will depend whether Reschid Pasha is himself to go to St Petersburg. From St Petersburg he is to send new draft notes to Constantinople; the new draft notes are to be returned to St Petersburg, and nothing will be settled before the last answer is again returned from St Petersburg to Constantinople and then the fifth month will have arrived, and no fleets can enter the Black Sea; and then the Tsar will quietly remain during the winter in the Principalities, where he pays with the same promises that still circulate there from his former occupations, and as far back as 1820. You know that the Servian Minister Garaschanin has been removed at the instance of Russia. Russia insists now, following up that first triumph, on all anti-Russian officers being expelled from the service. This measure, in its turn, was intended to be followed by the reigning Prince Alexander being replaced by Prince Michael Obrenowich, the absolute tool of Russia and Russian interest. Prince Alexander, to escape from this calamity, and likewise under the pressure of Austria, has struck against the Sultan, and declared his intention of observing a strict neutrality. The Russian intrigues in Servia are thus described in the Presse of Paris:

Everybody knows that the Russian Consulate at Orsova a miserable village where not a single Russian subject is to be found, but situated in the midst of a Servian population is only a poor establishment, yet it is made the hotbed of Muscovite propaganda. The hand of Russia was judiciarily seized and established in the affair of Braila in 1840, and of John Lutzo in 1850, in the affair of the recent arrest of fourteen Russian officers, which arrest became the cause of the resignation of Garaschanins Ministry. It is likewise known that Prince Mentschikoff, during his stay at Constantinople, fomented similar intrigues through his agents at Broussa and Smyrna, to those in Thessalonia, Albania and Greece. There is no more striking feature in the politics of Russia than the traditional identity, not only of her objects, but of her manner of pursuing them. There is no complication of the present Eastern Question, no transaction, no official note, which does not bear the stamp of quotation from known pages of history. Russia has now no other pretext to urge against the Sultan except the treaty of Kainardji, although that treaty gave her, instead of a Protectorate over her co-religionists, only the right to build a chapel at Stamboul, and to implore the Sultans clemency for his Christian subjects, as Reschid Pasha justly urged against the Tsar in his note of the 14th inst. But already in 1774, when that treaty was signed, Russia intended to interpret it one day or the other in the sense of 1853. The then Austrian Internuncio at the Ottoman Porte, Baron Thugut, wrote in the year 1774 to his Court: Henceforth Russia will always be in a situation to effect, whenever she may deem the opportunity favourable, and without much preliminary arrangement, a descent upon Constantinople from her ports on the Black Sea. In that case a conspiracy concerted in advance with the chiefs of the Greek religion would no doubt burst forth, and it would only remain for the Sultan to quit his palace at the first intelligence of this movement of the Russians, to fly into the depth of Asia, and abandon the throne of European Turkey to a more experienced possessor. When the capital shall have been conquered, terrorism and the faithful assistance of the Greek Christians will indubitably and easily reduce beneath the sceptre of Russia, the whole of the Archipelago, the coast of Asia Minor and all Greece, as far as the shore of the Adriatic. Then the possession of these countries, so much favoured by nature, with which no other part of the world can be compared in respect to the fertility and richness of the soil, will elevate Russia to a degree of superiority surpassing all the fabulous wonders which history relates of the grandeurs of the monarchies of ancient times. In 1774, as now, Russia was tempting the ambition of Austria with the prospect of Bosnia, Servia and Albania being incorporated with her. The same Baron Thugut writes thus on this subject: Such aggrandisement of the Austrian territory would not excite the jealousy of Russia. The reason is that the requisition which Austria would make of Bosnia, Servia, etc, although of great importance under other circumstances, would not be of the least utility to Russia, the moment the remainder of the Ottoman Empire should have fallen into her hands. For these provinces are inhabited almost entirely by Mohammedans and Greek Christians: the former would not be tolerated as residents there; the latter, considering the close vicinity of the Oriental Russian Empire, would not hesitate to emigrate thither; or if they remained their faithlessness to Austria would occasion continuous troubles; and thus an extension

of territory, without intrinsic strength, so far from augmenting the power of the Emperor of Austria would only serve to weaken it. Politicians are wont to refer to the Testament of Peter I, in order to show the traditional policy of Russia in general, and particularly with regard to her views on Constantinople. They might have gone back still further. More than eight centuries ago, Sviataslaff, the yet Pagan Grand Duke of Russia, declared in an assembly of his Boyards, that not only Bulgaria, but the Greek Empire in Europe, together with Bohemia and Hungary, ought to undergo the rule of Russia. Sviataslaff conquered Silistria and threatened Constantinople, AD 769, as Nicholas did in 1828. The Rurik dynasty transferred, soon after the foundation of the Russian Empire, their capital from Novgorod to Kiev, in order to be nearer to Byzantium. In the eleventh century Kiev imitated in all things Constantinople, and was called the second Constantinople, thus expressing the everlasting aspirations of Russia. The religion and civilisation of Russia are of Byzantine off-spring, and that she should have aimed at subduing the Byzantine Empire, then in the same decay as the Ottoman Empire is in now, was more natural than that the German Emperors should have aimed at the conquest of Rome and Italy. The unity, then, in the objects of Russian policy, is given by her historical past, by her geographical conditions, and by her necessity of gaining open seaports in the Archipelago as in the Baltic, if she wants to maintain her supremacy in Europe. But the traditional manner in which Russia pursues those objects is far from meriting that tribute of admiration paid to it by European politicians. If the success of her hereditary policy proves the weakness of the Western powers, the stereotyped mannerism of that policy proves the intrinsic barbarism of Russia herself. Who would not laugh at the idea of French politics being conducted on the Testament of Richelieu, or the Capitularies of Charlemagne? Go through the most celebrated documents of Russian diplomacy, and you will find that shrewd, judicious, cunning, subtle as it is in discovering the weak points of European kings, ministers and courts, its wisdom is at a complete deadlock as often as the historical movements of the Western peoples themselves are concerned. Prince Lieven judged very accurately of the character of the good Aberdeen when he speculated on his connivance with the Tsar, but he was grossly mistaken in his judgement of the English people when he predicted the continuance of Tory rule on the eve of the Reform movement in 1831. Count Pozzo di Borgo judged very correctly of Charles X, but he made the greatest blunder with regard to the French people when he induced his august master to treat with that king about the partition of Europe on the eve of his expulsion from France. Russian policy, with its traditional craft, cheats and subterfuges, may impose upon the European Courts which are themselves but traditional things, but it will prove utterly powerless with the revolutionised peoples. At Beirut the Americans have abstracted another Hungarian refugee from the claws of the Austrian eagle. It is cheering to see the American intervention in Europe beginning just with the Eastern Question. Besides the commercial and military importance resulting from the situation of Constantinople, there are other important considerations, making its possession the hotly controverted and permanent subject of dispute between the East and the West and America is the youngest and most vigorous representative of the West. Constantinople is the eternal city the Rome of the East. Under the ancient Greek Emperors, Eastern civilisation amalgamated there so far with Western civilisation, as to make this centre of a theoretical

Empire the effectual bar against European progress. When the Greek Emperors were turned out by the Sultans of Iconium, the genius of the ancient Byzantine Empire survived this change of dynasties, and if the Sultan were to be supplanted by the Tsar, the Bas-Empire would be restored to life with more demoralising influences than under the ancient Emperors, and with more aggressive power than under the Sultan. The Tsar would be for Byzantine civilisation what Russian adventurers were for centuries to the Emperors of the Lower Empire the Corps de garde of their soldiers. The struggle between Western Europe and Russia about the possession of Constantinople involves the question whether Byzantinism is to fall before Western civilisation, or whether its antagonism shall revive in a more terrible and conquering form than ever before. Constantinople is the golden bridge thrown between the West and the East, and Western civilisation cannot, like the sun, go round the world without passing that bridge; and it cannot pass it without a struggle with Russia. The Sultan holds Constantinople only in trust for the Revolution, and the present nominal dignitaries of Western Europe, themselves finding the last stronghold of their order on the shores of the Neva, can do nothing but keep the question in suspense until Russia has to meet her real antagonist, the Revolution. The Revolution which will break the Rome of the West will also overpower the demoniac influences of the Rome of the East. XIII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 19 August 1853. One of the Austrian revolutionary leaders of 1848, Martin Koszta, Hungarian by birth but an Austrian subject, had settled in Turkey and announced his intention the goal of so many refugees then as now of becoming an American citizen. At Smyrna, a Turkish port on the Aegean, the Austrian consul-general, exercising the right of extra-territorial jurisdiction, had Koszta arrested and imprisoned aboard an Austrian brig-of-war lying in the harbour near an American sloop, the St Louis. With the authorisation of Mr Brown, American charg d'affaires at Constantinople, Commander Ingraham of the St Louis demanded the release of Koszta, claiming that he was an American citizen, and when the Austrian commander refused to give him up, prepared to open fire. Hostilities were avoided only through an arrangement whereby Koszta was placed in the custody of the French consul-general at Smyrna pending settlement of the dispute.

The great event of the day is the appearance of American policy on the European horizon. Saluted by one party, detested by the other, the fact is admitted by all. Austria must look to the dismemberment of the Turkish Empire for indemnification for the loss of her Italian provinces a contingency not rendered less likely by the quarrel she has had the folly to bring on her with Uncle Sam. An American squadron in the Adriatic would be a very pretty complication of an Italian insurrection, and we may all live to see it, for the Anglo-Saxon spirit is not yet dead in the West. Thus speaks The Morning Herald, the old organ of the English aristocracy.

The Koszta affair [says the Paris Presse] is far from being terminated. We are informed that the Vienna Cabinet has asked from the Washington Cabinet a reparation, which it may be quite sure it will not receive. Meanwhile, Koszta remains under the safeguard of the French Consul. We must get out of the way of the Yankee, who is half a buccaneer, and half a backwoodsman, and no gentleman at all, whispers the Vienna Presse. The German papers grumble about the secret treaty pretended to have been concluded between the United States and Turkey, according to which the latter would receive money and maritime support, and the former the harbour of Enos in Roumelia, which would afford a sure and convenient place for a commercial and military station of the American Republic of the Mediterranean. In due course of time [says the Brussels Emancipation] the conflict at Smyrna between the American government and the Austrian one, caused by the capture of the refugee Koszta, will be placed in the first line of events of 1853. Compared with this fact, the occupation of the Danubian Principalities and the movements of the combined navies at Constantinople, may be considered as of second-rate importance. The event of Smyrna is the beginning of a new history, while the accident at Constantinople is only the unravelling of an old question about to expire. An Italian paper, II Parlamento, has a leader under the title La Politico Americana in Europa, from which I translate the following passages literally: It is well known that a long time has elapsed since the United States have tried to get a maritime station in the Mediterranean and in Italy, and more particularly at such epochs when complications arose in the Orient. Thus for instance in 1840, when the great Egyptian question was agitated, and when St Jean d'Acre was assailed, the government of the United States asked in vain from the King of the Two Sicilies to temporarily grant it the great harbour of Syracuse. Today the tendency of American policy for intervening with European affairs cannot be but more lively and steadfast. There can be no doubt but that the actual Democratic administration of the Union manifests the most clamorous sympathies with the victims of the Italian and Hungarian revolution, that it cares nothing about an interruption of the diplomatical intercourse with Austria, and that at Smyrna it has supported its system with the threat of cannon. It would be unjust to grumble at this aspiration of the great transatlantic nation, or to call it inconsistent or ridiculous. The Americans certainly do not intend conquering the Orient and going to have a land war with Russia. But if England and France make the best of their maritime forces, why should not the Americans do so, particularly as soon as they will have obtained a station, a point of retreat and of approvisionement in the Mediterranean? For them there are great interests at stake, the republican element being diametrically opposed to the Cossack one. Commerce and navigation having multiplied the legitimate relations and contacts between all peoples of the world, none can consider itself a stranger to any sea of the Old or New Continent, or to any great question like that of the destiny of the Ottoman Empire. The American commerce, and the residents who exercise it on the shores of our seas, require the protection of the stars and stripes, and in order to make it valid in all seasons of the year, they want a port for a military marine that ranks already in the third line among the maritime powers of the world. If England and France interfere directly with all that regards the Isthmus of

Panama, if the former of those powers goes so far as to invent a King of the Mosquitoes, in order to oppose territorial rights to the operations of the United States, if they have come to the final understanding, that the passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific shall be open to all nations, and be possessed by a neutral state, is it not evident then that the United States must pretend at exercising the same vigilance with regard to the liberty and neutrality of the Isthmus of Suez, holding their eyes closely fixed on the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire, which will be likely to devolve Egypt and Syria, wholly or partly to the dominion of some first-rate power. Suez and Panama are the two great doorways of the Orient, which, shut till now, will hereafter compete with each other. The best way to assure their ascendancy in the Transatlantic question is to cooperate in the Mediterranean question. We are assured that the American men-of-war in the neighbourhood of the Dardanelles do not renounce the pretention to enter them whenever they please, without being subjected to the restrictions convened upon the Great Powers in 1841, and for this incontrovertible reason, that the American government did not participate in that Convention. Europe is amazed at the boldness, because it has been, since the peace of 1813, in the habit of considering the United States in the condition of the Swiss Cantons after the Westphalian Treaty, viz, as peoples allowed a legitimate existence, but which it would be too arduous to ask to enter into the aristocracy of the primitive powers, and to give their votes on subjects of general policy. But on the other side of the Ocean the Anglo-Saxon race, sprung up to the most exalted degree of wealth, civilisation and power, cannot any longer accept the humble position assigned to it in the past. The pressure exercised by the American Union on the Council of Amphyctrions of the Five Powers, till now the arbiters of the globe, is a new force that must contribute to the downfall of the exclusive system established by the treaties of Vienna. Till the Republic of the United States succeed in acquiring a positive right and an official seat in the Congresses arbitrating on general political questions, it exercises with an immense grandeur, and with a particular dignity the more humane actions of natural rights and of the jus gentium. Its banner covers the victims of the civil wars without distinction of parties, and during the immense conflagration of 1848-49 the hospitality of the American Navy never submitted to any humiliation or disgrace. XIV

Originally published in New York Tribune, 2 September 1853. In an editorial on the Koszta affair in the Tribune of 6 August 1853, the editor had observed that: We state an obvious fact in saying that Captain Ingraham, had he sunk the Austrian corvette in Smyrna harbour, as it was but a chance he did not, would almost inevitably have been the next President of the United States. Had the two ships been cruising off the harbour, instead of at anchor within it, where action must have been a gross outrage on neutral rights and resulted in a woeful destruction of life and property on shore, the collision could not have been averted. The following excerpt from one of Marxs letters to the editor describes the reaction in the European press to this editorial.

The Austrian Minister of Foreign Affairs has sent to all the European Courts a note relative to the conduct of the American frigate St Louis in the Koszta affair, denouncing the American policy in general. Austria contends that she has the right to kidnap foreigners from the territory of a neutral power, while the United States have no right to commence hostilities in order to defend them. XV

Originally published in New York Tribune, 24 September 1853.

A note issued from Washington could scarcely have produced a greater sensation in Europe than your editorial remarks on Captain Ingraham. They have found their way, with and without commentaries, into almost the whole weekly press of London, into many French papers, the Brussels Nation, the Turin Parlemento, the Basel Gazette, and every liberal newspaper of Germany... The journals hold out the prospect of an intervention on the part of the United States in favour of Switzerland, if it should be threatened by an attack. Today we are informed that several powers have the intention of making a collective declaration against the doctrine of international right put forth by the United States. If the American intervention theories were not refuted in a peremptory manner, the extirpation of the revolutionary spirit in Europe would meet with an insuperable obstacle. France is among the powers ready to participate in this remonstrance. On this last point, the Constitutionnel of Tuesday last takes good care not to leave any doubt, when it says: It is necessary to be candid in all things. It is not as a citizen of the United States that Koszta is defended against Austria by the agents of the American Republic, but as a revolutionist. But none of the European powers will ever admit as a principle of public law that the government of the United States has the right to protect revolution in Europe by force of arms. On no grounds would it be permitted to throw obstacles in the way of the exercise of the jurisdiction of a government, under the ridiculous pretence that the offenders have renounced their allegiance, and from the real motive that they are in revolt against the political constitution of their country. The Navy of the American Union might not always have such an easy triumph, and such headstrong conduct as that pursued by the Captain of the St Louis might on another occasion be attended with very disastrous consequences. XVI

Originally published in New York Tribune, 30 December 1853.

Those readers who have followed with any attention the expositions which from time to time The Tribune has given of the Eastern Question, will not be surprised at the exhibit which our statement of

yesterday makes of the great lever of Russian aggrandisement. They will have learned before that the idea of Russian diplomatic supremacy owes its efficacy to the imbecility and the timidity of the Western nations, and that the belief in Russias superior military power is hardly less a delusion. But they were, perhaps, scarcely prepared for the strong and sudden light in which our informant held up this phantasm as an element relied upon in the calculations of the Imperial government. Bully Turkey and her supporters France and England we are told, was relied on to the last by the Tsar as sufficient to bend them to his demands. Accordingly, instead of sending into the Principalities a force of 120,000 men, as we were first informed had been done, or of 70,000, which we afterwards assured was the whole number, we now learn that he sent only 50,000, or the army corps of General Dannenberg alone a fact there was reason to suspect before, since no other general commanding an army corps has been heard of in any of the actions fought there, and it is well known that long after hostilities began neither Luders nor Osten-Sacken had crossed the Pruth. The same state of facts has also been indicated by the disgrace of Mentschikoff, reported from Sweden and Paris, and most conclusively confirmed by our informant, and by the Princes setting off in a most inclement season of the year, as a courier, to convey to the Tsar the news of Nachimoffs victory over the squadron of Omer Pasha. When a man of seventy years of age voluntarily undertakes such a journey, riding night and day, there can be no doubt that he has some most imperative reason for propitiating the favour of the monarch. But the great point is that Nicholas has perfectly relied upon bullying Turkey and her allies. This has been manifest throughout the affair, though never before avowed by any authority claiming to express the feeling of the Russian Court itself. It has been a bullying business all along. The appearance and conduct of Mentschikoff at Constantinople were simply those of a bully; the manifestoes of Nesselrode were the menaces of a bully; and the entry of Gortschakoff into the Principalities with a single army corps was nothing but the bold presumption of a bully. It has all justified by the result. England, especially, has been imposed on. She has been bullied, and is so still. She has not dared to declare her soul to be her own from the beginning to the present day. France, too, has been bullied, though not so seriously. But both together have been frightened out of the only policy which could at once have guaranteed the preservation of peace, while maintaining their own respectability. To the arrogance of the Autocrat they have replied with symptoms of cowardice. They have encouraged the very assumptions they have deprecated, just as poltroons always encourage bullies to be overbearing. If, at the outset, they had used a manly style of language adequate to the position they hold, and the pretensions they set up before the world; if they had proved that bluster and swagger could not impose on them, the Autocrat would not only have refrained from attempting it, but would have entertained for them a very different feeling from that contempt which must now animate his bosom. At that time, to show that they seriously meant to preserve Turkey intact, and were ready to back up their intention with the last reason of kings fleets and armies, was the sure means of maintaining peace. There is only one way to deal with a power like Russia, and that is the fearless way. It is not to be denied that Turkey, the weak state, has shown more true courage, as well as more wise statesmanship, than either of her powerful allies. She has risen to the height of the occasion; they have cowered beneath it. She has rejected the demands of her hereditary foe, not with braggadocio, but with grave and worthy earnestness and dignity; they have faltered and sought to evade the crisis. She has

acted with decision; they have prevented her from acting with effect. For we may justly attribute the delays and hesitation shown in the manoeuvres of Omer Pasha to the paralysing and temporising influence of Lord Redcliffe and M de la Cour, over the Divan. At the moment when he was opening the campaign, they procured orders to be sent to him to delay the beginning of hostilities. Just when he was surprising Europe by advantages gained over the enemy, they prepared new terms of mediation and asked for an armistice. Thus at every step they have exhibited that dread of Russia on which we are assured the Emperor and his advisers have continually placed their dependence. They have been bullied, and have accordingly done their utmost to bring on the very evil they are so afraid of. If there be a general war, it will not be the fault of Turkey, but next to Russia, of France and England. They might have prevented it infallibly, but they did not. As matters now stand we incline to follow our wishes and predict peace. The decision rests with the Tsar, and peace is his interest. The prestige of his diplomacy and the renown of his arms can be maintained in peace much more easily and safely than in war. The naval success of Nachimoff enables him to cease fighting with more than an equal share of victory on his side. A general breaking up of Europe has its possibility of loss and even of destruction for him as well as for Turkey, while even if he triumphs, it must be at a far heavier cost than that of his recent vast acquisitions of power and influence. The bullying system is much less expensive than actual warfare, as we see illustrated in the small army under Gortschakoff. There is, then, a considerable chance that some one of the schemes of mediation already on foot, or to be generated during the winter, may be fixed on. Then the work of Russian encroachments in Europe will once again be confined to the slower but surer processes of diplomacy and intrigue, animated by unscrupulous arrogance on one side, and aided by weakness and pusillanimity on the other. In view of such a possibility it is impossible not to agree with Mr Douglas when he assigns to Russia the attributes of the future, and to Western Europe those of the past. There is an energy and vigour in that despotic government and that barbarous race which we seek in vain among the monarchies of the older states. But if we look a little deeper into the cause of this relative weakness, we find it full of encouragement. Western Europe is feeble and timid because her governments feel that they are outgrown and no longer believed in by their people. The nations are beyond their rulers, and trust in them no more. It is not that they are really imbecile, but that there is new wine working in the old bottles. With a worthier and more equal social state, with the abolition of caste and privilege, with free political constitutions, unfettered industry and emancipated thought, the people of the West will rise again to power and unity of purpose, while the Russian Colossus itself will be shattered by the progress of the masses and the explosive force of ideas. There is no good reason to fear the conquest of Europe by the Cossacks. The very divisions and apparent weakness which would seem to render such an event easy are the sure pledge of its impossibility. XVII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 2 February 1854.

At last the long-pending question of Turkey appears to have reached a stage where diplomacy will not much longer be able to monopolise the ground for its ever-shifting, ever-cowardly and ever-resultless movements. The French and the British fleets have entered the Black Sea in order to prevent the Russian navy from doing harm either to the Turkish fleet or the Turkish coast. The Tsar Nicholas long since declared that such a step would be, forhim, the signal for a declaration of war. Will he now stand it quietly? It is not to be expected that the combined fleets will at once attack and destroy either the Russian squadron or the fortifications and navy-yards of Sebastopol. On the contrary, we may rest assured that the instructions which diplomacy has provided for the two admirals are so contrived as to evade, as much as possible, the chance of a collision. But naval and military movements once ordered, are subject not to the desires and plans of diplomacy, but to laws of their own which cannot be violated, without endangering the safety of the whole expedition. Diplomacy never intended the Russians to be beaten at Oltenitza; but a little latitude once given to Omer Pasha, and military movements once begun, the action of the two hostile commanders was carried on in a sphere which was to a great extent uncontrollable by the Ambassadors at Constantinople. Thus, the fleets once removed from their moorings in the Beicos Roads, there is no telling how soon they may find themselves in a position from which Lord Aberdeens prayers for peace, or Lord Palmerstons collusion with Russia, cannot draw them, and where they will have to choose between an infamous retreat or a resolute struggle. A narrow land-locked sea like the Euxine, where the opposing navies can hardly contrive to get out of sight of each other, is precisely the locality in which conflicts under such circumstances may become necessary almost daily. And it is not to be expected that the Tsar will allow, without opposition, his fleet to be blockaded in Sebastopol. If, then, a European war is to follow from this step, it will be, in all likelihood, a war between Russia on the one hand, and England, France and Turkey on the other. The event is probable enough to warrant us in comparing the chances of success and striking the balance of active strength on each side, so far as we can do so. But will Russia stand alone? What part will Austria, Prussia and the German and Italian states, their dependents, take in a general war? It is reported that Louis Bonaparte has notified the Austrian government that if, in case of conflict with Russia, Austria should side with that power, the French government would avail itself of the elements of insurrection which in Italy and Hungary only require a spark to be kindled into a raging fire, and that then the restoration of Italian and Hungarian nationality would be attempted by France. Such a threat may have its effect upon Austria; it may contribute to keep her neutral as long as possible, but it is not to be expected that Austria will long be enabled to keep aloof from such a struggle, should it come to pass. The very fact of the threat having been uttered may call forth partial insurrectionary movements in Italy, which could not but make Austria a still more dependent and still more subservient vassal of Russia. And then, after all, has not this Napoleonic game been played once already? Is it to be expected that the man who restored the Pope to his temporal throne, and who has a candidate cut and dried for the Neapolitan monarchy, will give to the Italians what they want as much as independence from Austria unity? Is it to be expected that the Italian people will rush headlong into such a snare? No doubt they are sorely oppressed by Austrian rule, but they will not be very anxious to contribute to the glory of an Empire which is already tottering in its

native soil of France, and of a man who was the first to combat their revolution. The Austrian government knows all this, and therefore we may assume that it will be more influenced by its own financial embarrassments than by these Bonapartistic threats; we may also be certain that, at the decisive moment, the influence of the Tsar will be paramount at Vienna, and will entangle Austria on the side of Russia. Prussia is attempting the same game which she played in 1780, 1800 and 1805. Her plan is to form a league of neutral Baltic, or North German, states, at the head of which she can play a part of some importance, and turn to whichever side offers her the greatest advantages. The almost comical uniformity with which all these attempts have ended by throwing the greedy, vacillating and pusillanimous Prussian government into the arms of Russia, belongs to history. It is not to be expected that Prussia will now escape her habitual fate. She will put out feelers in every direction, offer herself at public auction, intrigue in both camps, swallow camels and strain at gnats, lose whatever character may perchance yet be left to her, get beaten, and at last be knocked down to the lowest bidder, who in this and every other instance will be Russia. She will not be an ally, but an incumbrance to Russia, for she will take care to have her army destroyed beforehand, for her own account and gratification. Until at least one of the German powers is involved in a European war, the conflict can only rage in Turkey, on the Black Sea, and in the Baltic. The naval struggle must, during this period, be the most important. That the allied fleets can destroy Sebastopol and the Russian Black Sea fleet; that they can take and hold the Crimea, occupy Odessa, close the Sea of Azof, and let loose the mountaineers of the Caucasus, there is no doubt. With rapid and energetic action nothing is more easy. Supposing this to occupy the first month of active operations, another month might bring the steamers of the combined fleets to the British Channel, leaving the sailing vessels to follow; for the Turkish fleet would then be capable of doing all the work which might be required in the Black Sea. To coal in the Channel and make other preparations might take another fortnight; and then, united to the Atlantic and Channel fleets of France and Britain, they might appear before the end of May in the roads of Cronstadt in such a force as to ensure the success of an attack. The measures to be taken in the Baltic are as self-evident as those in the Black Sea. They consist in an alliance, at any price, with Sweden; an act of intimidation against Denmark, if necessary; an insurrection in Finland, which would break out upon landing a sufficient number of troops, and a guarantee that no peace would be concluded except upon the condition of this province being reunited to Sweden. The troops landed in Finland would menace Petersburg, while the fleets would bombard Cronstadt. This place is certainly very strong by its position. The channel of deep water leading up to the roads will hardly admit of two men-of-war abreast presenting their broadsides to the batteries, which are established not only on the main island, but on smaller rocks, banks and islands about it. A certain sacrifice, not only of men, but of ships, is unavoidable. But if this be taken into account in the very plan of the attack, if it be once resolved that such and such a ship must be sacrificed, and if the plan be carried out vigorously and unflinchingly, Cronstadt must fall. The masonry of its battlements cannot for any length of time withstand the concentrated fire of heavy Paixhan guns, that most destructive of all arms when employed against stone walls. Large screw-steamers, with a full complement of such guns amidships, would very soon produce an irresistible effect, though of course they would in the attempt risk their own existence. But what are three or four screw-ships of the line in

comparison with Cronstadt, the key of the Russian Empire, whose possession would leave St Petersburg without defence? Without Odessa, Cronstadt, Riga, Sebastopol, with Finland emancipated, and a hostile army at the gates of the capital, with all her rivers and harbours closed up, what would Russia be? A giant without arms, without eyes, with no other recourse than trying to crush her opponents under the weight of her clumsy torso, thrown here and there at random, wherever a hostile battle-cry was heard. If the maritime powers of Europe should act thus resolutely and vigorously, then Prussia and Austria might so far be relieved from the control of Russia that they might even join the allies. For both the German powers, if secure at home, would be ready to profit by the embarrassments of Russia. But it is not to be expected that Lord Aberdeen and M Drouyn de l'Huys should attempt such energetic steps. The powers that be are not for striking their blows home, and if a general war breaks out, the energy of the commanders will be shackled so as to render them innocuous. If nevertheless, decisive victories occur, care will be taken that it is by mere chance, and that their consequences are as harmless as possible for the enemy. The war on the Asiatic shore of the Black Sea might at once be put an end to by the fleets; that on the European side would go on comparatively uninterrupted. The Russians, beaten out of the Black Sea, deprived of Odessa and Sebastopol, could not cross the Danube without great risk (except in the direction of Servia, for insurrectionary purposes), but they might very well hold the Principalities, until superior forces and the risk of large bodies of troops being landed on their flank and rear, should drive them out of Wallachia. Moldavia they need not evacuate without a general action, for flank and rear demonstrations would there be of little importance so long as Chotin and Kishineff offered them a safe communication with Russia. But as long as the war is confined to the Western powers and Turkey on the one hand, and Russia on the other, it will not be a European war such as we have seen since 1792. However, let it once commence, and the indolence of the Western powers and the activity of Russia will soon compel Austria and Prussia to decide for the Autocrat. Prussia will probably be of no great account, as it is more than likely that her army, whatever its capacities may be, will be wasted by presumption at some second Jena. Austria, notwithstanding her bankrupt condition, notwithstanding the insurrections that may occur in Italy and Hungary, will be no contemptible opponent. Russia herself, obliged to keep up her army in the Principalities and on the Caucasian frontier, to occupy Poland, to have an army for the defence of the Baltic coast, and especially of St Petersburg and Finland, will have very few troops to spare for offensive operations. If Austria, Russia and Prussia (always supposing the latter not yet put to rout) can muster five or six hundred thousand men on the Rhine and the Alps, it will be more than can be reasonably expected. And for five hundred thousand allies the French alone are a match, supposing them to be led by generals not inferior to those of their opponents, among whom the Austrians alone possess commanders worthy of the name. The Russian generals are not formidable, and as to the Prussians, they have no generals at all; their officers are hereditary subalterns. But we must not forget that there is a sixth power in Europe, which at given moments asserts its supremacy over the whole of the five so-called great powers, and makes them tremble, every one of them. That power is the Revolution. Long silent and retired, it is now again called to action by the

commercial crisis and by the scarcity of food. From Manchester to Rome, from Paris to Warsaw and Pesth, it is omnipresent, lifting up its head and awakening from its slumbers. Manifold are the symptoms of its returning life, everywhere visible in the agitation and disquietude which have seized the proletarian class. A signal only is wanted, and the sixth and greatest European power will come forward, in shining armour and sword in hand, like Minerva from the head of the Olympian. This signal the impending European war will give, and then all calculations as to the balance of power will be upset by the addition of a new element which, ever buoyant and youthful, will as much baffle the plans of the old European powers, and their generals, as it did from 1792 to 1800. XVIII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 13 March 1854. With respect to the question, Could privateers be fitted out in neutral ports to interfere with British shipping?, Marx notes that the problem was brought up in Parliament and that a direct answer was evaded by Lord Palmerston. Marx continues...

The Palmerston organ [The Morning Post+ declares the difficult topic to form the subject of pending negotiations, and, on the other, the necessity of leaving it to the spontaneous sense of justice of the interested powers. If the much-boasted treaty of neutrality with Denmark and Sweden was not dictated by the St Petersburg Cabinet, it must, of course, have forbidden privateers being fitted out in their ports; but in fact, the whole question can only be understood to refer to the United States of America, as the Baltic is to be occupied by English line-of-battle ships, and Holland, Belgium, Spain, Portugal and the Italian ports on the Mediterranean are completely in the hands of England and France. Now, what is the opinion of the St Petersburg Cabinet as to the part to be performed by the United States in case the Turkish war should lead to a war between England and Russia? We may answer this question authentically from a dispatch addressed by Pozzo di Borgo to Count Nesselrode in the autumn of 1825. At that time Russia had resolved upon invading Turkey. As now she proposed to begin by a pacific occupation of the Principalities: In supposing the adoption of this plan [says Pozzo di Borgo], it would be requisite to enter into explanations with the Porte in the most measured terms, and to assure it that if it did not wish to precipitate itself into a war, the Emperor was willing to terminate these differences by conciliation. After having enumerated all the steps they would be obliged to take, Pozzo di Borgo continues as follows: It would be advisable to communicate all these acts to the United States of America as an evidence of the regard of the Imperial Cabinet, and of the importance which it attaches to enlightening its opinion, and even obtaining its suffrage. In case of Englands siding with Turkey and undertaking a war with Russia, Pozzo di Borgo remarks that:

... in blockading our ports they [England] would exercise their pretended maritime rights in respect to neutrals. This the United States would not suffer! Thence would arise bitter dissensions and dangerous situations. Now, as the Russian historian Karamsin justly remarks that nothing changes in our [Russian] external policy, we are justified in presuming that, at the present moment, and perhaps as long ago as February 1853, Russia has communicated all her acts to the United States, and done her best to cajole the Washington cabinet into at least a neutral attitude. At the same time, in the case of a war with England, she bases her hopes upon eventual quarrels about the maritime rights of the neutrals producing bitter dissensions and dangerous situations, and involving the United States in a more or less avowed alliance with St Petersburg. XIX

Originally published in New York Tribune, 15 April 1854.

In order to understand both the nature of the relations between the Turkish government and the spiritual authorities of Turkey, and the difficulties in which the former is at present involved with respect to the question of a protectorate over the Christian subjects of the Porte, that question which ostensibly lies at the bottom of all the actual complications in the East, it is necessary to cast a retrospective glance at its past history and development. The Koran and the Mussulman legislation emanating from it reduce the geography and ethnography of the various peoples to the simple and convenient distinction of two nations and of two countries; those of the Faithful and of the Infidels. The Infidel is harby, that is, the enemy. Islamism proscribes the nation of the Infidels, constituting a state of permanent hostility between the Mussulman and the unbeliever. In that sense the corsair ships of the Berber states were the holy fleet of Islam. How, then, is the existence of Christian subjects of the Porte to be reconciled with the Koran? If a town [says the Mussulman legislation] surrenders by capitulation, and its inhabitants consent to become rayahs, that is, subjects of a Mussulman prince without abandoning their creed, they have to pay the kharatch (capitation tax), when they obtain a truce with the faithful, and it is not permitted any more to confiscate their estates than to take away their houses... In this case their old churches form part of their property, with permission to worship therein. But they are not allowed to erect new ones. They have only authority for repairing them, and to reconstruct their decayed portions. At certain epochs commissaries designated by the provincial governors are to visit the churches and sanctuaries of the Christians, in order to ascertain that no new buildings have been added under guise of repairs. If a town is conquered by force, the inhabitants retain their churches, but only as places of abode or refuge, without permission to worship.

Constantinople having surrendered by capitulation, as in like manner the greater portion of European Turkey, the Christians there enjoy the privileges they have, exclusively by virtue of their agreeing to accept the Mussulman protection. It is, therefore, owing to this circumstance alone that the Christians submit to be governed by the Mussulmans, according to Mussulman law, and that the Patriarch of Constantinople, their spiritual chief, is at the same time their political representative, representative and their chief justice. Wherever, in the Ottoman Empire, we find an agglomeration of Greek rayahs, the Archbishops and Bishops are by law members of the Municipal Councils, and, under the direction of the Patriarch, rule over the repartition of the taxes imposed upon the Greeks. The Patriarch is responsible to the Porte as to the conduct of his co-religionists. Invested with the right of judging the rayahs of his Church, he delegates this right to the Metropolitans and Bishops within the limits of their dioceses, their sentences being obligatory for the executive officers, cadis, etc, of the Porte to carry out. The punishments which they have the right to pronounce are fines, imprisonment, bastonado and exile. Besides, their own Church gives them the power of excommunication. Independent of the produce of the fines, they receive variable taxes on the civil and commercial law-suits. Every hierarchic scale among the clergy has its moneyed price. The Patriarch pays to the Divan a heavy tribute in order to obtain his investiture, but he sells, in his turn, the archbishoprics and bishoprics to the clergy of his worship. The latter indemnify themselves by the sale of subaltern dignities, and the tribute exacted from the popes. These again sell by retail the powers they have bought from their superiors, and traffic in all acts of their ministry, such as baptisms, marriages, divorces and testaments. It is evident from this expos that this fabric of theocracy over the Greek Christians of Turkey, and the whole structure of their society, has its keystone in the subjection of the rayahs under the Koran, which, in its turn, by treating them as infidels that is, as a nation only in a religious sense sanctions the combined spiritual and temporal power of their priests. Then, if you abolish their subjection under the Koran, by a civil emancipation, you cancel at the same time their subjection to the clergy, and provoke a revolution in their social, political and religious relations, which, in the first instance, must inevitably hand them over to Russia. If you supplant the Koran by a code civil,you must occidentalise the entire structure of Byzantine society. Having described the relations between the Mussulman and his Christian subject, the question arises: what are the relations between the Mussulman and the unbelieving foreigner? As the Koran treats all foreigners as foes, nobody will dare to present himself in a Mussulman country without having taken his precautions. The first European merchants, therefore, who risked the chances of commerce with such a people, contrived to secure themselves an exceptional treatment and privileges originally personal, but afterwards extended to their whole nation. Hence the origin of capitulations. Capitulations are imperial diplomas, letters of privilege, granted by the Porte to different European nations, and authorising their subjects freely to enter Mohammedan countries, and there to pursue in tranquillity their affairs, and to practice their worship. They differ from treaties in this essential point, that they are not reciprocal acts, contradictorily debated between the contracting parties, and accepted by them on the condition of mutual advantages and concessions. On the contrary, the capitulations are one-sided concessions on the part of the government granting them, in consequence of which they may be revoked at its pleasure. The Porte has, indeed, at different times nullified the

privileges granted to one nation by extending them to others, or repealed them altogether by refusing to continue their application. This precarious character of the capitulations made them an eternal source of disputes, of complaints on the part of Ambassadors, and of a prodigious exchange of contradictory notes and firmans revived at the commencement of every new reign. It was from these capitulations that arose the right of a protectorate of foreign powers, not over the Christian subjects of the Porte the rayahs but over their co-religionists visiting Turkey, or residing there as foreigners. The first power that obtained such a protectorate was France. The capitulations between France and the Ottoman Porte made in 1535 under Soliman the Great and Francis I, in 1604 under Ahmet I and Henry IV, and in 1673 under Mustapha II and Louis XIV, were renewed, confirmed, recapitulated and augmented in the compilation of 1740, called ancient and recent capitulations and treaties between the Court of France and the Ottoman Porte. Article 32 of this agreement constitutes the right of France to a protectorate over all monasteries professing the French religion, to whatever nation they may belong, and over the Frank visitors to the Holy Places. Russia was the first power that, in 1774, inserted the capitulation, imitated after the example of France, into a treaty, the Treaty of Kainardji. Thus, in 1802, Napoleon thought fit to make the existence and maintenance of the capitulation the subject of an article of treaty, and to give it the character of synallagmatic contract. In what relation, then, does the question of the Holy Places stand to the Protectorate? The question of the Holy Shrines is the question of a protectorate over the religious Greek Christian communities settled at Jerusalem, and over the buildings possessed by them on the holy ground, and especially over the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It is to be understood that possession here does not mean proprietorship, which is denied to the Christians by the Koran, but only the right of usufruct. This right of usufruct excludes by no means the other communities having no other privilege besides that of keeping the keys, of repairing and entering the edifices, of kindling the holy lamp, of cleaning the rooms with the broom, and of spreading the carpets, which is an Oriental symbol of possession. In the same manner now in which Christianity culminates at the Holy Place, the question of the Protectorate is there found to have its highest ascension. Parts of the Holy Places and of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre are possessed by the Latins, the Greeks, the Armenians, the Abyssinians, the Syrians and the Copts. Between all these diverse pretendants there originated a conflict. The sovereigns of Europe, who saw in this religious quarrel a question of their respective influences in the Orient, addressed themselves in the first instance to the masters of the soil, to fanatic and greedy pashas, who abused their position. The Ottoman Porte and its agents adopting a most troublesome systme de bascule, gave judgement in turn favourable to the Latins, Greeks and Armenians, asking and receiving gold from all hands, and laughing at each of them. Hardly had the Turks granted a firman, acknowledging the right of the Latins to the possession of a contested place, than the Armenians presented themselves with a heavier purse, and instantly obtained a contradictory firman. The same tactics with respect to the Greeks, who knew, besides, as officially recorded in different

firmans of the Porte and hudgets (judgements) of its agents, how to procure false and apocryphal titles. On other occasions the decisions of the Sultans government were frustrated by the cupidity and ill-will of the pashas and subaltern agents in Syria. Then it became necessary to resume negotiations, to appoint fresh commissaries, and to make new sacrifices of money. What the Porte formerly did from pecuniary considerations, in our days it has done from fear, with a view to obtain protection and favour. Having done justice to the reclamations of France and the Latins, it hastened to grant the same conditions to Russia and the Greeks, thus attempting to escape from a storm which it felt powerless to encounter. There is no sanctuary, no chapel, no stone of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, that has been left unturned for the purpose of constituting a quarrel between the different Christian communities. Around the Holy Sepulchre we find an assemblage of all the various sects of Christianity, behind the religious pretensions of whom are concealed as many political and national rivalries. Jerusalem and the Holy Places are inhabited by nations professing different religions: the Latins, the Greeks, the Armenians, Copts, Abyssinians and Syrians. There are 2000 Greeks, 1000 Latins, 350 Armenians, 100 Copts, 20 Syrians, and 20 Armenians 3490. In the Ottoman Empire we find 13,730,000 Greeks, 2,400,000 Armenians, and 900,000 Latins. Each of these is again subdivided. The Greek Church, of which I treated above, the one acknowledging the Patriarch of Constantinople, essentially differs from the Greco-Russian, whose chief spiritual authority is the Tsar, and from the Hellenes, of whom the King and the Synod of Athens are the chief authorities. Similarly, the Latins are subdivided into the Roman Catholics, United Greeks and Maronites; and the Armenians into Gregorian and Latin Armenians the same distinction holding good with the Copts and Abyssinians. The three prevailing religious nationalities at the Holy Places are the Greeks, the Latins and the Armenians. The Latin Church may be said to represent principally Latin races; the Greek Church, Slav, Turko-Slav and Hellenic races; and the other Churches, Asiatic and African races. Imagine all these conflicting peoples beleaguering the Holy Sepulchre, the battle conducted by the monks, and the ostensible object of their rivalry being a star from the grotto of Bethlehem, a tapestry, a key of a sanctuary, an altar, a shrine, a chair, a cushion any ridiculous precedence! In order to understand such a monastical crusade, it is indispensable to consider, firstly, the manner of their living, and, secondly the mode of their habitation: All the religious rubbish of the different nations [says a recent traveller] live at Jerusalem separated from each other, hostile and jealous, a nomad population, incessantly recruited by pilgrimage or decimated by the plague and oppressions. The European dies or returns to Europe after some years; the Pashas and their guards go to Damascus or Constantinople; and the Arabs fly to the desert. Jerusalem is but a place where everyone arrives to pitch his tent and where nobody remains. Everybody in the holy city gets his livelihood from his religion the Greeks or Armenians from the 12,000 to 13,000 pilgrims who yearly visit Jerusalem, and the Latins from the subsidies and alms of their co-religionists of France, Italy, etc.

Besides their monasteries and sanctuaries, the Christian nations possess at Jerusalem small habitations or cells, annexed to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and occupied by the monks who have to watch day and night that holy abode. At certain periods these monks are relieved in their duty by their brethren. These cells have but one door, opening into the interior of the Temple, while the monk guardians receive their food from without, through some wicket. The doors of the church are closed, and guarded by Turks, who do not open them except for money, and close them according to their caprice or cupidity. The quarrels between Churchmen are the most venomous, said Mazarin. Now fancy these Churchmen, who not only have to live upon, but live in, these sanctuaries together! To finish the picture, be it remembered that the fathers of the Latin Church, almost exclusively composed of Romans, Sardinians, Neapolitans, Spaniards and Austrians, are all of them jealous of the French Protectorate, and would like to substitute that of Austria, Sardinia or Naples, the kings of the two latter countries both assuming the tide of King of Jerusalem, and that the sedentary population of Jerusalem numbers about 15,500 souls, of whom 4000 are Mussulmans and 8000 Jews. The Mussulmans, forming about a fourth part of the whole, and consisting of Turks, Arabs and Moors, are, of course, the masters in every respect, as they are in no way affected by the weakness of their government at Constantinople. Nothing equals the misery and the sufferings of the Jews at Jerusalem, inhabiting the most filthy quarter of the town, called hareth-el-yahoud, in the quarter of dirt between the Zion and the Moriah, where their synagogues are situated the constant objects of Mussulman oppression and intolerance, insulted by the Greeks, persecuted by the Latins, and living only upon the scanty alms transmitted by their European brethren. The Jews, however, are not natives, but from different and distant countries, and are only attracted to Jerusalem by the desire of inhabiting the valley of Jehoshaphat, and dying on the very place where the redemption is to be expected. To make these Jews more miserable, England and Prussia appointed, in 1840, an Anglican bishop at Jerusalem, whose avowed object is their conversion. He was dreadfully thrashed in 1845, and sneered at alike by Jews, Christians and Turks. He may, in fact, be stated to have been the first and only cause of a union between all the religions at Jerusalem. It will now be understood that the common worship of the Christians at the Holy Places resolves itself into a continuance of desperate Irish rows between the diverse sections of the faithful; that, on the other hand, these sacred rows merely conceal a profane battle, not only of nations but of races; and that the protectorate of the Holy Places, which appears ridiculous to the Occident, but all important to the Orientals, is one of the phases of the Oriental question incessantly reproduced, constantly stifled, but never solved. XX

Originally published in New York Tribune, 11 July 1854.

A certain class of writers have been wont to attribute to the Emperor of Russia the possession of extraordinary powers of mind, and especially of that far-reaching, comprehensive judgement which marks the really great statesman. It is difficult to see how such illusions could be derived from any truthful view of his character, or from any part of his history; but the most obstinate of his admirers must, we think, now question the justice of their conclusions. Russia is now in a difficult and most humiliating position. Her armies are defeated in Turkey, and, after immense losses of men and means, are retreating within her own frontiers; her possessions in Asia, the fruit of many years effort and vast expenditure, are partly lost and wholly imperilled; her foreign commerce is destroyed, and her home industry injured by turning the national attention and the peoples energies to a useless and disastrous war; her navy is imprisoned, and her fortresses menaced; and she must even regard as an advantage an intervention which, whatever its other benefits, interposes an effectual barrier to the realisation of her ambitious dreams, and renders impossible a renewal of her attack on Turkey, because that would involve a direct collision with Germany, as well as with the Western powers. And all this is the work of this great statesman and wise ruler Nicholas I. Praise of this headstrong imperial blunderers mental gifts must hereafter be considerably qualified, if indulged in at all. The defeat at Silistria is not enough to destroy the reputation of the Tsar, or of his army, any more than the defeat at Oltenitza, Tchetalea or Karakul, for a defeat is something that the wisest foresight and the most complete preparations cannot always prevent. But apart from this there is a fact which stands out with greater prominence than any other in the whole course of the late remarkable siege and the Russian retreat which followed it. It is this that the Russian army, with its enormous numbers and its whole swarms of officers, cannot afford leaders to take the place of Paskevitch, Gortschakoff, being each over seventy, and Luders, the youngest, being over sixty and likely as they were to die a natural death any day; such is the narrowness and imbecility of the system on which the Tsar has managed his vast military establishment that we can affirm it as a positive and undeniable fact, that there is hardly a single officer who could step into the vacated place of either of these generals, and carry with him confidence of the army and the nation. For years the Emperor, with an unaccountable blindness which seemed, indeed, to fall little short of stupidity, has directed his efforts to the real injury and depression of the service for whose improvement and perfection he fancied he was doing the utmost. Thus he has limited promotion to mere parade martinets, whose principal merit consists in stolid obedience and ready servility, added to accuracy of eyesight in detecting a fault in the buttons and button-holes of the uniform constantly preferring such sticks to men of real military ability and intellectual superiority. Years of the dullest service, such as garrison duty and daily parade, and not youth, activity and the study and acquirement of military science, have been the exclusive titles to the Tsars favour and to advancement. Thus the army is commanded on the average by old valetudinarians, or by ignorant corporals, who might manage a platoon, but have not brains and knowledge enough to direct the extensive and complicated movements of a campaign. The same narrow-mindedness and presumption appear throughout the Tsars whole management of this Eastern Question. Everyone can now see that he began the war in an unwise and inadequate manner. Indeed, his very first military demonstration was totally absurd and unequal to the purpose in

hand. He ought to have known that Europe would not allow the destruction of Turkey, and should, therefore, either have kept quiet, biding his time, or have crossed the Pruth, not with between forty and fifty thousand men, as he did last year, when during the whole winter he had only one army corps in the Principalities, but should have pounced at once with his most powerful masses upon Turkey, reaching across the Balkans before the Turks could have gathered together their scattered forces, and before the Western powers could have combined in their opposition and sent fleets of troops. To strike by surprise and terror ought to have been his aim, instead of engaging in such an imbecile manner his nation in a gigantic struggle. But Nicholas is growing old, and has all the faults of decrepit age. One of the reasons which prevented him from putting all his resources into action at once was that he feared the cost of such an effort. Now he will lose a hundred times as much money, and without results. Penny-wisdom in such an affair is no wisdom at all. When the Russian forces first crossed the Pruth, the Tsar had no doubt as we happened to know and took occasion to state at the time that he could bully all Europe, and reap laurels at small expense. His diplomatic agents, too, encouraged him in this foolish opinion. The most mischievous of these accessories to the Great Russian blunder has proved to be the Russian Minister at Paris, Kisseleff, whose dispatches were full of the most satisfactory accounts concerning the friendly and pacific intentions of Louis Napoleon. Kisseleff having resided for more than twenty-eight years in the French capital, very naturally dreaded the idea of being recalled from the position where he led an epicurean life. The Tsar, accordingly, who delights to read adulatory and flattering reports from his agents, caught at the first bait, and any dispatch smelling of a disagreeable truth from any quarter was discredited, treated with contempt, and did nothing but injury with the Autocrat to the faithful and able diplomatist sending it. Thus nearly all the Russian diplomatic reports were full of encomiums on the Imperial sagacity, to which Europe bowed, as they assured his Majesty, with respect and admiration. In one word we are able to affirm that, since 1851, Nicholas has never had laid before him a truthful account of the state of Europe, and of the feelings of the other governments towards him and Russia; and if his numerous agents misled him in such a manner, the reason was that this was the most, nay the only, palatable dish for his political appetite. He craved universal adulation; now he tastes its bitter and poisonous fruits. We do not put any faith in the rumour of his abdication, a thing totally impossible and unwarranted; but, on the other hand, only a miracle can extricate him from the difficulties now heaped on him and Russia by his pride, shallowness and imbecility. XXI

Originally published in New York Tribune, 17 August 1854.

It is now very nearly twelve months since a small Turkish corps, two battalions, succeeded in crossing the Danube near Turtukai, opposite Oltenitza, threw up entrenchments there, and being attacked by the Russians, repulsed them in a very spirited little affair, which, being the first engagement in the war, took

the style and title of the Battle of Oltenitza. There the Turks alone were opposed to the Russians; they had no British or French troops behind them as a reserve, and could not even expect any support from the allied fleets. And yet they held their ground on the Wallachian side of the river, for a fortnight at Oltenitza, and for the whole winter at Kalafat. Since then, England and France have declared war against Russia; sundry exploits, of a doubtful nature it is true, have been achieved. Black Sea fleets, Baltic fleets, and an army of now nearly a hundred thousand English and French soldiers are there to assist the Turks or to make diversions in their favour. And the upshot of all this is nothing but a repetition of the Oltenitza business on a larger scale, but rather less successfully than last year. The Russians laid siege to Silistria. They went about it stupidly but bravely. They were defeated day after day, night after night; not by superior science, not by Captain Butler or Lieutenant Nasmyth, the two British officers present, who, according to The Times, saved Silistria. They were defeated by the ignorance of the Turks, an ignorance extending so far as not to know when a fort or rampart ceases to be tenable, and to sticking doggedly to every inch of ground, every molehill which the enemy appears to covet. They were defeated besides by the stupidity of their own generals, by fever and cholera; finally, by the moral effect of an allied army menacing their left, and an Austrian army menacing their right wing. When the war began, we stated that the Russian army had never been able to lay a regular siege, and the ill-managed operations before Silistria show that they have not improved since. Well, they were defeated; they had to decamp in the most discreditable way imaginable; they had to raise the siege of an incomplete fortress in the midst of a fine season, and without any troops coming to relieve the garrison. Such an event occurs not more than once in a century; and whatever the Russians may try to do in the autumn, the campaign is lost, disgracefully lost, for them. But now for the reverse of the medal. Silistria is free. The Russians retreat to the left bank of the Danube. They even prepare for and gradually execute the evacuation of the Dobrudscha. Hirsova and Marschin are dismantled. The Sereth seems to be the line to which the Russians trust for the defence, not of their conquests, but of their own territory. Omer Pasha, the wily old Croat, who can hold his tongue or tell a lie as well as anybody, in the execution of his duty, at once sends a corps to the Dobrudscha, and another to Rustchuk, thus engaging the two wings of the Russians at once. There were far better manoeuvres possible at the time, but poor old Omer appears to know the Turks and the Allies better than we do. The correct military move to be made would have been to march through the Dobrudscha or by Kalarash upon the communications of the enemy; but, after what we have seen, we cannot even accuse Omer of having missed a good opportunity. We know that his army is very badly cared for provided with almost nothing and cannot therefore execute rapid movements which would remove it to a distance from its base, or open up fresh lines of operation. These movements, decisive as they are in their effect when undertaken by a sufficient force, are not within the reach of an army which lives from hand to mouth, and has to pass through a barren country. We know that Omer Pasha went to Varna, imploring the aid of the allied generals, who at that time had 75,000 capital soldiers there, within four days march of the Danube, but neither St Arnaud nor Raglan thought proper to come up to where they could meet the enemy. Thus Omer could do no more than he has done. He sent 25,000 men towards the Dobrudscha, and marched with the rest of his army to Rustchuk. Here his troops passed

from island to island until the Danube was crossed, and then by a sudden march to the left took Giurgevo in the rear, and forced the Russians to quit it. On the next day the Russians were drawn up on some heights to the north of Giurgevo, where the Turks attacked them. A sanguinary battle ensued, remarkable for the number of English officers who, with rare success, competed for the honour of being shot first. They all got their bullets, but with no benefit to anybody, for it would be preposterous to think that the sight of a British officer being shot could inflame a Turkish soldier to invincibility. However, the Russians having a mere advanced guard on the spot a brigade, the two regiments of Kolyvan and Tomsk got beaten, and the Turks made good their footing on the Wallachian bank of the Danube. They at once set about fortifying the place, and as they had British sappers, and, as at Kalafat, they did very well for themselves, there is no doubt that they were making a formidable position of it. But thus far they were allowed to go and no farther. That Emperor of Austria who now for eight months has been trying hard to act the part of an independent man, steps in at once. The Principalities have been promised to his troops as a feeding ground, and he intends to have them. What business have the Turks there? Let them go back to Bulgaria. So down comes the order from Constantinople to withdraw the Turkish troops from the left bank, and to leave all that plot of land to the tender mercies of the Austrian soldiers. Diplomacy is above strategy. Whatever may come of it, the Austrians will save their own frontiers by occupying a few yards of ground beyond; and to this important end even the necessities of the war must give way. Besides, is not Omer Pasha an Austrian deserter? And Austria never forgets. In Montenegro she interrupted his victorious career; and she repeats the process again, to make the renegade feel that he is not yet out of the allegiance to his lawful sovereign. It is entirely useless to enter into the military details of this present stage of the campaign. The actions possess little tactical interest, being plain, straightforward front attacks; the movements of troops on either side are ruled more by diplomatic than strategical motives. Most likely we shall see the campaign closing without any great enterprise, for on the Danube there is nothing prepared for a grand offensive, and as to the taking of Sebastopol, of which we hear so much, the beginning will probably be delayed until the season is so far advanced that it must be postponed till next year. It would seem that whoever may have had any conservative leanings in Europe must lose them when he looks at this everlasting Eastern Question. There is all Europe, incapable, convicted for the last sixty years of incapability, to settle this puny little strife. There they are, France, England, Russia, going actually to war. They carry on their war for six months, and unless by mistake, or on a very shabby scale, they have not even come to blows. There they are, eighty or ninety thousand English and French soldiers, at Varna, commanded by old Wellingtons late military secretary and by a Marshal of France (whose greatest exploits, it is true, were performed in London pawnshops) there they are, the French doing nothing and the British helping them as fast as they can; and as they may think this sort of business not exactly honourable, the fleets are come up to Baltchik Roads to have a look at them and to see which of the two armies can enjoy the dolce far niente with the greater decorum. And, although the Allies have hitherto only been eating up the provisions upon which the Turkish army had calculated, idling away day after day at Varna, for the last two months, they are not yet fit for duty. They would have relieved Silistria if required by about the middle of May next year. The troops that have conquered Algeria had learned the theory and practice of war on one of the most difficult theatres in existence, the

soldiers who fought the Sikhs on the sands of the Indus, and the Kaffirs in the thorny bush of South Africa, in countries far more savage than Bulgaria there they are, helpless and useless, fit for nothing in a country which even exports corn! But if the Allies are miserable in their performances, so are the Russians. They have had plenty of time to prepare. They have done whatever they could, for they knew from the beginning what resistance they would find. And yet, what have they been able to do? Nothing. They could not take a yard of contested ground from the Turks; they could not take Kalafat; they could not beat the Turks in one single engagement. And yet they are the same Russians who, under Muennich and Suvaroff, conquered the Black Sea coast from the Don to the Dniester. But Schilders is not Muennich, Paskevitch is not Suvaroff, and though the Russian soldier can bear flogging with the cane beyond all others, yet when it comes to habitual retreating he loses his steadiness as well as anybody else. The fact is, that conservative Europe the Europe of order, property, family, religion the Europe of monarchs, feudal lords, moneyed men, however they may be differently assorted in different countries is once more exhibiting its extreme impotency. Europe may be rotten, but a war should have roused the sound elements, a war should have brought forth some latent energies; and assuredly there should be that much pluck among two hundred and fifty millions of men, that at least one decent struggle might be got up wherein both parties could reap some honour, such as force and spirit can carry off even from the field of battle. But no, not only is the England of the middle classes, the France of the Bonapartes, incapable of a decent, hearty, hard-fought war; but even Russia, the country of Europe least infected by infidel and unnerving civilisation, cannot bring about anything of the kind. The Turks are fit for sudden starts of offensive action, and stubborn resistance on the defensive, but seem not to be fit for large combined manoeuvres with great armies. Thus everything is reduced to a degree of impuissance and a reciprocal confession of weakness, which appears to be as reciprocally expected by all parties, With governments such as they are at present, this Eastern war may be carried on for thirty years, and yet come to no conclusion. XXII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 24 October 1854.

The days in which religious considerations were a governing element in the wars of Western Europe are, it seems, long gone by. The Treaty of Westphalia, in 1648, which wound up the Thirty Years War in Germany, marks the epoch when such questions lost their force and disappeared as a moving cause of international strife. The attitude of the two great powers of Western Europe in the present war against Russia is a striking illustration of this truth. We there see England, professedly Protestant, allied with France, professedly Catholic ('damnably heretical as they naturally are in each others eyes, according to the orthodox phraseology of both), for the purpose of defending Turkey, a Mohammedan power, against the aggressions of holy Russia, a power Christian like themselves; and though the position of

Austria and Prussia is more equivocal than that of England and France, the maintenance of the Mussulman Empire in its integrity against the assaults of its Christian neighbour of the North is an object that has been avowed and guaranteed equally with France and England, by the two great powers of Christian Germany. Religious considerations are certainly not the influences which restrain these from action against Russia. To appreciate this state of things perfectly we must call to mind the period of the Crusades, when Western Europe, so late as the thirteenth century, undertook a holy war against the infidel Turks for the possession of the Holy Sepulchre. Western Europe now not only acquiesces in the Mussulman jurisdiction over the Sepulchre, but goes so far as to laugh at the contests and rivalries of the Greek and Latin monks to obtain undivided possession of a shrine once so much coveted by all Christendom; and when Christian Russia steps forward to protect the Christian subjects of the Porte, Western Europe of today arrays itself in arms against the Tsar to thwart a design which it would once have deemed highly laudable and righteous. To drive the Moslems out of Europe would once have roused the zeal of England and France; to prevent the Turks from being driven out of Europe is now the most cherished resolve of those nations. So broad a gulf stands between Europe of the nineteenth and Europe of the thirteenth century! So fallen away since the latter epoch is the political influence of religious dogma. We have carefully watched for any expression of the purely ecclesiastical view of the European crisis, and have only found one pamphlet by a Cambridge DD, and one North British Reviewer for England, and the Paris Universfor France, which have dogmatically represented the defence of a Mohammedan power by Christendom as absolutely sinful; and these pronunciamentos have remained without an echo in either country. Whence is this? From the period of the Protestant Reformation, the upper classes in every European nation, whether it remained Catholic or adopted Protestantism, and especially the statesmen, legists and diplomatists, began to unfasten themselves individually from all religious relief, and become free-thinkers so-called. This intellectual movement in the higher circles manifested itself without reserve in France from the time of Louis XIV, resulting in the universal predilection for what was denominated Philosophy during the eighteenth century. But when Voltaire found residence in France no longer safe, not because of his opinions, nor because he has given oral expression to them, but because he had communicated them by his writings to the whole reading public, he betook himself to England and testified that he found the salons of high life in London still freer than those of Paris. Indeed, the men and women of the court of Charles II, Bolingbroke, the Walpoles, Hume, Gibbon and Charles Fox are names which all suggest a prevalent unbelief in religious dogmas, and a general adhesion to the philosophy of that age on the part of the upper classes, statesmen and politicians of England. This may be called, by way of distinction, the era of aristocratic revolt against ecclesiastical authority. Comte, in one short sentence, has characterised this situation: From the opening of the revolutionary period in the sixteenth century this system of hypocrisy has been more and more elaborated in practice, permitting the emancipation of all minds of a certain bearing, on a tacit condition that they should aid in protracting the submission of the masses. This was eminently the policy of the Jesuits.

This brings us down to the period of the French Revolution, when the masses, firstly of France, and afterwards of all Western Europe, along with a desire for political and social freedom, began to entertain an ever-growing aversion from religious dogma. The total abolition of Christianity, as a recognised institution of state by the French Republican Convention of 1793, and since then the gradual repeal in Western Europe, wherever the popular voice has had power, of religious tests and political and civil disabilities of the same character, together with the Italian movement of 1848, sufficiently announce the well-known direction of the popular mind in Europe. We are still witnesses of this epoch, which may be characterised as the era of democratic revolt against ecclesiastical authority. But this very movement among the masses since the French Revolution, bound up as it was with the movement for social equality, brought about a violent reaction in favour of church authority in high quarters. Nobility and clergy, lords temporal and lords spiritual, found themselves equally threatened by the popular movement, and it naturally came to pass that the upper classes of Europe threw aside their scepticism in public life and made an outward alliance with the state churches and their systems. This reaction was most apparent in France, first under Bonaparte, and during the Restoration under the elder branch of the Bourbons, but it was not less the case with the rest of Western Europe. In our own day we have seen renewed on a smaller scale this patching up of an alliance offensive and defensive between the upper classes and the ecclesiastical interest. Since the epoch of 1830 the statesmen had begun to manifest anew a spirit of independence towards ecclesiastical control, but the events of 1848 threw them back into the arms of Mother Church. Again France gave the clearest exemplification of this phenomenon. In 1849, when the terror of the Democratic deluge was at its height, Messrs Thiers, De Hauranne and the Universitarians (who had passed for Atheists with the clergy), together with the socalled Liberal Opposition, were unanimous in supporting that admirably qualified saviour of religion, M Bonaparte, in his project for the violent restoration of the Pope of Rome, while the Whig Ministry of Protestant England, at whose head was a member of the ultra-Protestant family of Russell, were warm in their approval of the same expedition. This religious restoration by such processes was indeed only redeemed from universal ridicule by the extremely critical posture of affairs which, for the moment, in the interest of order did not allow the public men of Europe to indulge in the sense of the ludicrous. But the submission of the classes of leading social influence to ecclesiastical control, which was hollow and hypocritical at the beginning of this century after the Revolution of 1792, has been far more precarious and superficial since 1848, and is only acknowledged by those classes so far as it suits their immediate political interest. The humiliating position of utter dependence which the ecclesiastical power sustains towards the temporal arm of government has been made fully manifest since 1848. The Pope indebted to the French government for his present tenure of the chair of St Peter; the French clergy, for the sake of their salaries, blessing trees of liberty and proclaiming the sovereignty of the people, and afterwards canonising the present Emperor of France as the chosen instrument of God and the Saviour of religion, their old proper doctrines of legitimacy, and the divine right of kings being in each case laid aside with the downfall of the corresponding political rgime; the Anglican clergy, whose ex officio head is a temporal Queen, dependent for promotion on the recommendation of the Prime Minister, now generally a Liberal, and looking for favours and support against popular encroachment to Parliament in which the Liberal element is ever on the increase constitute

an ensemble from which it would be absurd to expect acts of pure ecclesiastical independence, except in the normally impossible case of an overwhelming popular support to fall back upon. Such was the position of affairs in 1853, when the governing classes of England and France deemed it necessary and politic to espouse the cause of the Ottoman Porte against the Christian Tsar; and that policy was not only sanctioned, but in a measure forced upon them by the popular sentiment of the two nations. Then the governments of France and England entered upon a policy totally inconsistent with religious considerations, and threw off unhesitatingly their feigned ecclesiastical alliances. Then at length the upper-class current of revolt (which had been so long dissembled) formed a juncture with the broad popular current, and the two together, like the Missouri and the Mississippi, rolled onwards a tide of opinion which the ecclesiastical power saw it would be madness to encounter. Beneath this twofold assault the pure ecclesiastical point of view has not dared to manifest itself; while, on the contrary, the state clergy of England, on the appointed day of the national fast and humiliation, had to pray and preach patriotic sermons on behalf of the success of the Crescent and its allies. These considerations seem to afford a rational explanation of two apparent anomalies with which we started; namely, the defence of the Crescent by allied Catholic and Protestant Europe against the assaults of the Cross, as represented by Christian Russia, and the fact that no voice of any influence has been lifted up to denounce to Christendom the novel position in which it is placed. This coalition between the politicians of Western Europe and the popular opinion in behalf of a purely secular policy, is likely to generate ulterior consequences and to subject ecclesiastical influence to further shocks from its old accomplices, the politicians. It is doubtless owing to the ripeness of the public mind in this respect, that Lord Palmerston ventured to refuse the request of the Edinburgh Presbytery for a day of public fast and humiliation to avert the divine scourge of cholera, the Home Secretary audaciously averring that prayers would be of no consequence unless they cleansed their streets and habitations, and that cholera was generated by natural causes, such as deleterious gases from decomposed vegetable matter. The vain and unscrupulous Palmerston knew that buffeting the clergy would be a cheap and easy way of acquiring popularity, otherwise he would not have ventured on the experiment. A further evidence of the extreme incompetence of ecclesiastical policy to answer the exigencies of the European situation is found in the consideration that the ecclesiastical view, if logically carried out, would condemn Catholic Europe to entire indifference in the present European crisis; for though it might be permissible for Anglican orthodoxy to side with the Greek Cross against the Turkish Crescent, Catholic Europe could not unite with so impious a denier of the authority of the successor of St Peter, and so unhallowed a pretender to the highest spiritual functions, as the Tsar of Russia, and would apparently have no other opinion to utter than that both the belligerent parties were inspired by Satan! To complete the disparagement which ecclesiastical authority has undergone in the present European crisis, it is patent to the world that while the advance communities of Western Europe are in a forward stage of ecclesiastical decay, in barbarian Russia, on the other hand, the State Church retains a powerful and undiminished vigour. While Western Europe, discarding religious biases, has advanced in defence of right against might and for the independence of Europe, holy Russia has claimed for its war of might

against right a religious sanction as a war of the vicegerent of God against the infidel Turks. It is true that Nesselrode, in his state papers, has never had the assurance in the face of Europe to appeal to the ecclesiastical aspect of the question, and this is in itself a remarkable symptom of the decline of the ecclesiastical sentiment; this method of treatment is reserved by the Russian Court for internal use among the ignorant and credulous Muscovites, and the miracle-pictures, the relics, the crusading proclamations of the Russian generals show how much stress is there laid upon the religious phase of the struggle for inflaming the zeal of the Russian people and army. Even the St Petersburg journals do not omit to cast in the teeth of France and England the reproach that they are fighting on behalf of the abhorred Crescent, against the religion of the Cross. Such a contrast between religious Russia and secular France and England is worthy of a profound and thorough examination, which we cannot undertake to give it, our object being simply to call to these large, impressive and novel facts a degree of attention they have not hitherto received. They are facts which perhaps the philosophic and religious historians of the future will alone be able to appreciate at their exact value. They appear, however, to constitute an important step in the great movement of the world towards abrogating absolute authority and establishing the independence of the individual judgement and conscience in the religious as well as the political sphere of life. To defend or attack that movement is not our purpose; our duty is discharged in the simple attestation of its progress. XXIII

Originally published in New York Tribune, 1 January 1855.

The sun of Austerlitz has melted in water. A great battle, as was confidently announced and believed in Paris, was to be fought before Sebastopol in celebration of the second of December, but from a dispatch of General Canrobert, of the third of December, it appears that rain was falling in torrents, the roads were cut up, the trenches filled with water, and the siege operations as well as all the works put in a state of suspense. The Russians hitherto had the offensive, the Allies the defensive, superiority on the Chernaya; at the walls of Sebastopol it was the reverse. In other words the Russians were strong enough on the Chernaya to hold the field, but the Allies were not, though able to keep their position; while at Sebastopol the Allies, strong enough to carry on the siege, were so nearly matched by the garrison that the operations, though not stopped from without, yet proceeded with hardly any visible effect. The proportions of force seem about to change, and the Allies appear on the point of becoming strong enough to repulse the Russians from the Chernaya. In that case, the Russians can act two ways, after having lost their position above Inkerman. Either they can go round and take up the entrenched camp about the North Fort, or they can with their main body retreat into the interior, where the Allies cannot follow them far. The Allies can hardly be strong enough before February either to invest the northern camp or follow a retreating army much further than Baktchiserai. They could scarcely fight a second battle against an army entrenched somewhere about Simpheropol. In either case they would have to fall back on the

Chernaya, and thus this game of alternate advance and retreat is likely to be played all the winter over, unless, indeed, Sebastopol, on the south side, succumbs to an assault. But as the news which we receive respecting the siege is very meagre, we cannot say any more on this point than that it is not at all likely. We are, indeed, aware that, according to a dispatch of 7 December, published in the Paris Moniteur, and reprinted in the London papers, the allied armies had all of a sudden got the upper hand, and only two days after the deluge almost completed the investment of the town. This spurious dispatch was evidently concocted with a view to make amends for the baffled second of December prophecy. If, in 1812, the Continental force launched against Russia was far weaker than that which she may perhaps see on her frontiers in April or May if then England was her ally instead of her foe, Russia may console herself with the reflection that the more numerous the armies are which penetrate her interior, the more chance is there of their speedy destruction, and that, on the other hand, she has now three times the troops under arms which she had then. Not that we think Holy Russia unassailable. On the contrary, Austria and Prussia united are quite able, if merely military chances are taken into account, to force her to an ignominious peace. Any forty millions of men, concentrated upon a country of the size of Germany proper, will be able to cope successfully with the scattered sixty millions of Russian subjects. The strategy of an attack upon Russia from the west has been clearly enough defined by Napoleon, and had he not been forced by circumstances of a non-strategic nature to deviate from his plan, Russias integrity would have been seriously menaced in 1812. That plan was to advance to the Dvina and the Dnieper, to organise a defensive position, both as to fortifications, depots and communications, to take her fortresses on the Dvina, and to delay the march to Moscow until the spring of 1813. He was induced to abandon this plan, late in the season, from political reasons, from the outcry of his officers against winter quarters in Lithuania, and from a blind faith in his invincibility. He marched to Moscow, and the result is known. The disaster was immensely aggravated by the maladministration of the French Commissariat, and by the want of warm clothing for the soldiers. Had these things been better attended to, Napoleon, on his retreat, might have found himself at Vilna at the head of an army twice in numbers that which Russia could oppose to him. His errors are before us; they are none of them of a nature irremediable; the fact of his penetrating to Moscow, the march of Charles XII to Poltava, prove that the country is accessible, though difficult of access; and as to maintaining a victorious army in its heart, that all depends upon the length of the line of operations from the Rhine to Eylau and Friedland, if we consider long lines of operations in their capacity of drawbacks upon the active force of an army, will be about equal to a line of operations from Brest-Litovsk (supposing the Polish fortresses to be taken in the first year) to Moscow. And in this supposition no account is taken of the circumstance that the immediate base of operations would have been advanced to Vitebsk, Mogilev and Smolensk, without which preparatory act a march on Moscow would certainly be hazardous. Russia is certainly thinly populated; but we must not forget that the central provinces the very heart of Russian nationality and strength have a population equal to that of central Europe. In Poland that is, the five governments constituting the Russian kingdom of Poland the average is about the same. The most populous districts of Russia Moscow, Tula, Riazan, Nijni-Novgorod, Kaluga, Yaroslavl, Smolensk, etc are the very heart of Great Russia, and form a compact body; they are continued, on the south, by

the equally populous Little Russian provinces of Kiev, Poltava, Tehernigov, Voronezh, etc. There are, in all, twenty-nine provinces or governments, in which the population is quite half as dense as that of Germany. It is only the eastern and northern provinces, and the steppes of the south, where population is very thin; partly also the formerly Polish provinces of the west Minsk, Mogilev and Grodno on account of extensive swamps between the (Polish) Bug and Dniester. But an advancing army, having in its rear the corn-producing plains of Poland, Volhynia and Podolia, and in front, and for its theatre of operations, those of Central Russia, need not be afraid of its subsistence, if it manages the matter anything like well, and if it learns from the Russians themselves how to employ the means of transport of the country. As for a devastation of all resources by the retreating army, as in 1812, such a thing is only possible on one line of operations, and in its immediate vicinity; and if Napoleon had not, by his hurried advance from Smolensk, tied himself down to a very short time in which to complete his campaign, he would have found plenty of resources around him. But being in a hurry, he could not forage out the country at a short distance from his line of march, and his foraging parties, at that time, appear actually to have been afraid of penetrating far into the immense pine forests which separate village from village. An army which can detach strong cavalry parties to hunt up provisions, and the numerous carts and wagons of the country, can easily provide itself with everything necessary in the shape of food; and it is not likely that Moscow will burn down a second time. But even in that case, a retreat to Smolensk cannot be prevented, and there the army would find its well-prepared base of operation provided with every necessary. XXIV

Originally published in New York Tribune, 22 January 1855.

The entire British public, starting from the recent vehement leaders of the London Times, seems to be in a state of great anxiety and excitement respecting the condition of the forces in the Crimea. Indeed, it is impossible longer to deny or palliate the fact that, through unparalleled mismanagement in every branch of the service, the British army is rapidly approaching a state of dissolution. Exposed to the hardships of a winter campaign, suffering cold and wet, with the most harassing and uninterrupted field duty, without clothing, food, tents or housing, the veterans who braved the burning sun of India and the furious charges of the Beloochee and Afghan die away by hundreds daily, and as fast as reinforcements arrive they are eaten up by the ravages of disease. To the question who is to blame for this state of things, the reply just now most popular in England is that it is Lord Raglan; but this is not just. We are no admirers of his Lordships military conduct, and have criticised his blunders with freedom, but truth requires us to say that the terrible evils amid which the soldiers in the Crimea are perishing are not his fault, but that of the system on which the British war establishment is administered. The British army has a Commander-in-Chief, a person dispensed with in almost all other civilised armies. But it would be a mistake to suppose that this Commander-in-Chief really commands anything. If he has some control over the infantry and cavalry, the artillery, engineers, sappers and miners are entirely

beyond his sphere. If he has any authority over trousers, coatees and stocks, all great-coats are exempt from his influence. If he can make every foot-soldier carry two cartridge pouches, he cannot find him a single musket. If he can have all his men tried by court-martial and well flogged, he cannot make them stir a single inch. Marching is beyond his competence, and as to feeding his troops, that is a thing which does not concern him at all. Then there is the Master-General of the Ordnance. This person is a lamentable relic of the times when science was considered unsoldier-like, and when all scientific corps, artillery and engineers were not soldiers, but a sort of nondescript body, half savants, half handicraftsmen, and united in a separate guild or corporation, under the command of such a MasterGeneral. This Master-General of the Ordnance, besides artillery and engineers, has under him all the great-coats and small arms of the army. To any military operation, of whatever nature, he must, therefore, be a party. Next comes the Secretary at War. If the two preceding characters were already of comparative nullity, he is beyond nullity. The Secretary at War can give no order to any part of the army, but he can prevent any portion of the army from doing anything. As he is the chief of the military finances, and as every military act costs money, his refusal to grant funds is equivalent to an absolute veto upon all operations. But, willing as he may be to grant the funds, he is still a nullity, for he cannot feed the army; that is beyond his sphere. In addition to all this, the Commissariat, which really feeds the army, and, in case of any movement, is supposed to find it in means of transport, is placed under the control of the Treasury. Thus the Prime Minister, the First Lord of the Treasury, has a direct hand in the getting up of every military operation, and can at his pleasure either push it, retard it, or stop it. Everybody knows that the Commissariat is almost a more important portion of the army than the soldiers themselves; and for this very reason the collective wisdom of Great Britain has thought proper to make it quite independent of the army, and to place it under control of an essentially different department. Finally, the army, formerly put in motion by the Colonial Secretary, is now subject to the orders of the new War Minister. He dislocates the troops, from England to China, and from India to Canada. But, as we have seen, his authority, taken singly, is as ineffectual as that of any of the four preceding military powers, the cooperation of all the five being required in order to bring about the least movement. It was under the auspices of this wonderful system that the present war began. The British troops, well fed and well cared for at home, in consequence of a forty years peace, went out in high condition, persuaded that, whatever the enemy might do, England would not let her gallant lads want for anything. But scarcely had they landed at their first stage, at Gallipoli, when the comparison with the French army showed the ludicrous inferiority of all British arrangements, and the pitiable helplessness of every British official. Although it was here comparatively easy to provide for everything, although sufficient notice had been given, and a very small body of troops only was sent out, everything went wrong. Everybody made himself very busy, and yet nobody would perform duties that had not fallen to his lot at home in time of peace; so that not a man was to be found to do that business which was created by the very war itself. Thus shiploads of stuff were left to rot on the shore where they were first landed, and troops had to be sent on to Scutari for want of room. Chaotic disorder announced itself in unmistakable signs; but as it was the beginning of the war, an improvement was expected from growing experience.

The troops went to Varna. Their distance from home increased, their number increased, the disorder in the administration increased. The independent working of the five departments composing the administration, each of them responsible to a different minister at home, here first resulted in open and unmistakable clashing. Want reigned in the camp, while the garrison of Varna had the best of comforts. The Commissariat, lazily indeed, got together some means of transport from the country; but as the General-in-Chief did not appoint any escort wagons, the Bulgarian drivers disappeared again as fast as they had been brought together. A central depot was formed at Constantinople a sort of first base of operations; but it served no purpose, except to create a fresh centre of difficulties, delays, questions of competency, quarrels between the army, the Ordnance, the paying staff, the Commissariat and the War Office. Wherever anything was to be done, everybody tried to shove it off his own shoulders upon those of somebody else. The avoiding of all responsibility was the general aim. The consequence was that everything went wrong, and that nothing whatever was done. Disgust at these proceedings, and the certainty of seeing his army rot in inactivity, may have had some influence in determining Lord Raglan to risk the expedition to the Crimea. This expedition crowned the success of John Bulls military organisation. There in the Crimea came the palpable hit. So long as the army was, in point of fact, in a state of peace, as at Gallipoli, Scutari and Varna, the magnitude of the disorder, the complexity of the confusion, could hardly be expected fully to develop itself. But now, in face of the enemy, during the course of an actual siege, the case was different. The resistance of the Russians gave full scope to the British officials for the exercise of their business-like habits. And it must be confessed never was the business of destroying an army done more effectually than by these gentlemen. Of more than 60,000 men sent to the East since February last, not more than 17,000 are now fit for duty; and of these some 60 or 80 die daily, and about 200 or 250 are every day disabled by sickness, while of those that fall sick hardly any recover. And out of the 43,000 dead or sick, not 7000 have been disabled by the direct action of the army. When it first was reported in England that the army in the Crimea wanted food, clothing, housing, everything; that neither medical nor surgical stores were on the spot; that the sick and wounded had either to lie on the cold, wet ground, exposed to the weather, or to be crowded on board ships moored in an open roadstead, without attendance or the simplest requisites for medical treatment; when it was reported that hundreds were dying for want of the first necessaries everybody believed that the government had neglected to send proper supplies to the scene of action. But soon enough it became known that, if this had been partially the case in the beginning, it was not so now. Everything had been sent there, even in profusion; but, unfortunately, nothing ever happened to be where it was wanted. The medical stores were at Varna, while the sick and wounded were either in the Crimea or at Scutari; the clothing and provisions arrived in sight of the Crimea, but there was nobody to land them. Whatever by chance got landed was left to rot on the beach. The necessary cooperation of the naval force brought a fresh element of dissension to bear upon the already distracted councils of the department whose conflicts were to insure triumph to the British army. Incapacity, sheltered by regulations made for peace, reigned supreme; in one of the richest countries of Europe, on the sheltered coast of which hundreds of transports laden with stores lay at anchor, the British army lived upon half rations; surrounded by numberless herds of cattle, they had to suffer from scurvy in consequence of being

restricted to salt meat; with plenty of wood and coal on board ship, they had so little of it on shore that they had to eat their meat raw, and could never dry the clothes which the rain had drenched. Think of serving out the coffee not only unground but even unroasted. There were stores of food, of drink, of clothing, of tents, of ammunition by tons and hundreds of tons, stowed away on board the ships, whose masts almost touched the tops of the cliffs where the camp was placed; and yet, Tantalus-like, the British troops could not get at them. Everybody felt the evil, everybody ran about, cursing and blaming everybody else for neglect of duty, but nobody knew, to use the vernacular expression, which was which, for everybody had his own set of regulations, carefully drawn up, sanctioned by the authorities, and showing that the very thing wanted was no part of his duty, and that he, for one, had no power to set the matter right. Now, add to this state of things the increasing inclemency of the season, the heavy rains setting in and transforming the whole Heracleatic Chersonesus into one uninterrupted pool of mud and slush, kneedeep if not more; imagine the soldiers two nights at least out of four in the trenches, the other two sleeping, drenched and dirty in the slush, without boards under them, and with hardly any tents over them; the constant alarms completing the impossibility of anything like proper rest and adequate sleep; the cramps, diarrhoea and other maladies arising from constant wet and cold; the dispersion of the medical staff, weak though it was from the beginning, over the camp; the hospital tents with 3000 sick almost in the open air, and lying on the wet earth; and it will be easily believed that the British army in the Crimea is in a state of complete disorganisation reduced to a mob of brave men, as the London Times says and that the soldiers may well welcome the Russian bullet which frees them from all their miseries. But what is to be done? Why, unless you prefer waiting until half a dozen Acts of Parliament are, after due consideration by the Crown lawyers, discussed, amended, voted on and enacted; until by this means the whole business connected with the army is concentrated in the hands of a real War Minister; until this new Minister, supposing him to be the right man, has organised the service of his office, and issued fresh regulations; in other words, unless you wait until the last vestige of the Crimean army has disappeared, there is only one remedy. This is the assumption by the General-in-Chief of the expedition, upon his own authority and his own responsibility, of that dictatorship over all the conflicting and contending departments of the military administration which every other General-in-Chief possesses, and without which he cannot bring the enterprise to any end but ruin. That would soon make matters smooth; but where is the British general who would be prepared to act in this Roman manner, and on his trial defend himself, like the Roman, with the words, Yes, I plead guilty to having saved my country'? Finally we must inquire who is the founder and preserver of this beautiful system of administration. Nobody but the old Duke of Wellington. He stuck to every detail of it as if he was personally interested in making it as difficult as possible for his successors to rival him in war-like glory. Wellington, a man of eminent common sense, but of no genius whatever, was the more sensible of his own deficiencies in this respect from being the contemporary and opponent of the eminent genius of Napoleon. Wellington, therefore, was full of envy of the success of others. His meanness in disparaging the merits of his auxiliaries and allies is well known; he never forgave Blucher for saving him at Waterloo. Wellington knew full well that had not his brother been minister during the Spanish War he never could

have brought it to a successful close. Was Wellington afraid that future exploits would place him in the shade? And did he therefore preserve to its full extent this machinery so well adapted to fetter generals and to ruin armies? XXV

Originally published in New York Tribune, 28 March 1855.

The death of the Emperor Nicholas, with its immediate and prospective consequences, overtops all other news. As The Tribune informed its readers would be the case, contrary to the opinion of nearly all the journals, Alexander II quietly assumed the inheritance of his father. Europeans speculate upon the course which the new Emperor will pursue in the ominous conflict now pending. Until yet, however, the few public acts of Alexander show that he intends to pursue the same course as his predecessor. The manifesto to the nation, of which only the most interesting part is published in the European journals, declares that the new Tsar will do all in his power to maintain Russia in the high position which she holds, and that he will continue the policy of Peter, Catherine, Alexander and his deceased father. Such a declaration is very natural in the mouth of a new sovereign, but it would be preposterous to draw conclusions therefrom as to his future acts. Such words are neither for war nor for peace, and other indications are required in order to judge of his intentions. One of these is that he has no liking for the English; and another is the nomination of Count Rudiger as War Minister, instead of Prince Dolgoroucki, who filled this post under the deceased Tsar, and was his favourite. These are the only changes yet known to be made among the higher dignitaries of the Empire, and they followed almost immediately on the death of Nicholas. We perceive in them a demonstration that the new Emperor is preparing for extremities, and for an energetic prosecution of the war, should the Conference of Vienna prove a failure. As we long ago stated, it was the practice of Nicholas to direct personally all the movements of his armies and the destination and location of his troops. In a word, he was his own War Minister. Prince Dolgoroucki, a man of secondary capacity, without any military experience, was a good Secretary laborious and exact in the execution of orders, but unable alone to conceive any plans, or combine or energetically organise new resources. The present Emperor himself, inexperienced in military matters, and never having really devoted to them much of his time, has, in appointing Count Rudiger Minister of War, compensated for his own deficiencies. This Minister is one of oldest generals of Russia, having served with distinction in interior grades during the French campaigns, as general against the Turks in 1828-49, as the commander of a corps in the Polish campaign of 1831, and having finally contributed chiefly to bring to an end the Hungarian invasion, Georgey surrendering to him. He is beyond seventy years, but active, very energetic, and a military man to the marrow, enjoying great consideration in the army as well as at St Petersburg. He was highly esteemed by Nicholas, and was always a favourite with the present Emperor. Personally he is on rather unfriendly terms with Prince Paskevitch and Prince Gortschakoff, the late commander on the Danube, and now in the Crimea. Count Rudiger has

represented the German party, but that must not be confounded with a peace party. The Germans in the military service of Russia are more warlike than the Russians themselves. War is for them the only way of acquiring distinction and rising to elevated positions. Rudiger is descended from an ancient family in the Baltic provinces, as are nearly all the Germans in the Russian service. These ancient noble descendants of the ancient Teutonic knights have preserved all the warlike traditions and the aristocratic character of their ancestors, and all of them prefer to enter the army, war being for them an object of ambition as well as an attraction. The elevation, therefore, of Rudiger, though a German, would give a new and powerful impulse to the preparations for war. XXVI

Originally published in New York Tribune, 27 April 1855.

With the middle classes both of France and England this war is decidedly unpopular. With the French bourgeoisie it was so from the beginning, because this class has been ever since 2 December in full opposition against the government of the saviour of society. In England the middle class was divided. The great bulk had transferred their national hatred from the French to the Russians, and although John Bull can do a little annexation business himself now and then in India, he has no idea of allowing other people to do the same in other neighbourhoods in an uncomfortable proximity to himself or his possessions. Russia was the country which in this respect had long since attracted his anxious notice. The enormously increasing British trade to the Levant, and through Trebizond to Inner Asia, makes the free navigation of the Dardanelles a point of the highest importance to England. The growing value of the Danubian countries as granaries forbids England to allow their gradual absorption into Russia, and the closing of the navigation of the Danube by the same power. Russian grains form already a too important item in British consumption, and an annexation of the corn-producing frontier countries by Russia would make Great Britain entirely dependent upon her and the United States, while it would establish these two countries as the regulators of the corn-market of the world. Besides, there are always some vague and alarming rumours afloat about Russian progress in Central Asia, got up by interested Indian politicians or terrified visionaries, and credited by the general geographical ignorance of the British public. Thus, when Russia began her aggression upon Turkey, the national hatred broke forth in a blaze, and never, perhaps, was a war so popular as this. The peace party was for a moment interdicted from speaking; even the mass of its own members went along with the popular current. Whoever knew the character of the English must have felt certain that this warlike enthusiasm could be of but short duration, at least so far as the middle class was concerned; as soon as the effects of the war should become taxable upon their pockets, mercantile sense was sure to overcome national pride, and the loss of immediate individual profits was sure to outweigh the certainty of losing gradually great national advantages. The Peelites, adverse to the war, not so much out of real love of peace as from a narrowness and timidity of mind which holds in horror all great crises and all decisive action, did their best to hasten the great moment when every British merchant and manufacturer could calculate to a

farthing what the war would cost him, individually, per annum. Mr Gladstone, scorning the vulgar idea of a loan, at once doubled the income tax, and stopped financial reform. The result came to light at once. The peace party raised their heads again. John Bright dared popular feeling with his own wellknown spirit and tenacity until he succeeded in bringing the manufacturing districts round to him. In London the feeling is still more in favour of the war, but the progress of the peace party is visible even here; besides, it must be recollected that the peace society never at any time commanded any mentionable influence in the capital. Its agitation, however, is increasing in all parts of the country, and another year of doubled taxation, with a loan for this is now considered to be unavoidable will break down whatever is left of warlike spirit among the manufacturing and trading classes. With the mass of the people in both countries, the case is entirely different. The peasantry in France have ever since 1789 been the great supporters of war and warlike glory. They are sure this time not to feel much of the pressure of the war; for the conscription, in a country where the land is infinitesimally subdivided among small proprietors, not only frees the agricultural districts from surplus labour, but also gives to some 20,000 young men every year the opportunity of earning a round sum of money by engaging to serve as substitutes. A protracted war only would be felt. As to war taxes, the Emperor cannot impose them upon the peasantry without risking his crown and his life. His only means of maintaining Bonapartism among them is to buy them up by freedom from war taxation, and thus for some years to come they may be exempted from this sort of pressure. In England the case is similar. Agricultural labour is generally oversupplied, and furnishes the mass of soldiery, which only at a later period of the war receives a strong admixture of the rowdy class from the town. Trade being tolerably good, and a good many agricultural improvements being carried out when the war began, the quota of agricultural recruits was, in this instance, supplied more sparingly than before, and the town element is decidedly preponderant in the present militia. But even what has been withdrawn had kept wages up, and the sympathy of the villagers is always accompanying soldiers who come from among them, and who are now transformed into heroes. Taxation, in its direct shape, does not touch the small farmers and labourers, and until an increase of indirect imposts can reach them sensibly, several years of war must have passed. Among these people the war enthusiasm is as strong as ever, and there is not a village where is not to be found some new beer-shop with the sign of The Heroes of the Alma, or some such motto, and where are not in almost every house wonderful prints of Alma, Inkerman, the charge at Balaklava, portraits of Lord Raglan and others, to adorn the walls. But if in France the great preponderance of the small farmers (four-fifths of the population), and their peculiar relation to Louis Napoleon, give to their opinions a great deal of importance, in England that one-third of the population forming the country people has scarcely any influence except as a tail and chorus to the aristocratic landed proprietors. The industrial working population has in both countries almost the same peculiar position with regard to this war. Both British and French proletarians are filled with an honourable national spirit, though they are more or less free from the antiquated national prejudices common in both countries to the peasantry. They have little immediate interest in the war, save that if the victories of their countrymen flatter their national pride, the conduct of the war, foolhardy and presumptuous as regards France, timid and stupid as regards England, offers them a fair opportunity of agitating against the existing

governments and governing classes. But the main point with them is this: that this war, coinciding with a commercial crisis, only the first developments of which have, as yet, been seen, conducted by hands and heads unequal to the task, gaining at the same time European dimensions, will and must bring about events which will enable the proletarian class to resume that position which they lost to France by the battle of June 1848, and that not only as far as France is concerned, but for all Central Europe, England included. In France, indeed, there can be no doubt that every fresh revolutionary storm must bring sooner or later the working class to power; in England things are fast approaching a similar state. There is an aristocracy willing to carry on the war, but unfit to do so, and completely put to the blush by last winters mismanagement. There is a middle class unwilling to carry on that war which cannot be put a stop to, sacrificing everything to peace, and thereby proclaiming their own incapacity to govern England. If events turn out the one, with its different fractions, and do not admit the other, there remain but two classes upon which power can devolve the petty bourgeoisie, the small trading class, whose want of energy and decision has shown itself on every occasion when it was called upon to come from words to deeds and the working class, which has been constantly reproached with showing far too much energy and decision when proceeding to action as a class. Which of these classes will be the one to carry England through the present struggle, and the complications about to arise from it?

Frederick Engels 1855 Panslavism and the Crimean War I

Originally published in Neue Oder-Zeitung, 21 April 1855. From Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, The Russian Menace to Europe, edited by Paul Blackstock and Bert Hoselitz, and published by George Allen and Unwin, London, 1953, pp 84-86. Scanned and prepared for the Marxist Internet Archive by Paul Flewers.

We have been assured by the best sources that the present Russian Tsar has sent a telegram to certain Courts wherein, among other things, it is stated that: The moment Austria shall irrevocably ally herself to the West, or commit any overt act of hostility against Russia, Alexander II will place himself at the head of the Panslavist movement, and change his title of Emperor of all the Russians into that of Emperor of all the Slavs. This declaration of Alexanders if authentic is the first plain-spoken word since the war began; it is the first step towards giving the war, frankly and openly, that European character which has hitherto been lurking behind all sorts of pretexts and pretences, protocols and treaties, Vatel phrases and Puffendorf quotations. Turkeys independence and existence is thrown into the background. Who is to rule in Constantinople is no longer the question, but who is to command all Europe. The Slavic race long divided by internal contests, repelled towards the East by Germans, subjugated, in part, by Turks, Germans, Hungarians, quietly reuniting its branches, after 1815, by the gradual rise of Panslavism, for the first time asserts its unity, and, in doing so, declares war to the knife against the Romano-Celtic and Germanic races which have hitherto ruled Europe. Panslavism is not a movement which merely strives after national independence; it is a movement which aims to undo what a thousand years of history have created; which cannot realise itself without sweeping from the map of Europe Hungary, Turkey and a large part of Germany. Moreover, it must subjugate Europe in order to secure the stability of these results, if they are ever obtained. Panslavism is now, from a creed, turned into a political programme, with 800,000 bayonets to support it. It leaves Europe only one alternative: submission to the Slavic yoke or destruction forever of the centre of its offensive strength Russia. The next question to be answered is: How will Austria be affected by Russian-equipped Panslavism?

Of the seventy million Slavs living east of the Bohemian forest and the Carinthian Alps, about fifteen million are subject to the Austrian Emperor, comprising representatives of almost every variety of Slavic speech. The Bohemian or Czech branch (six million) falls exclusively within the Austrian dominions; the Polish branch is represented by about three million Galicians; the Russian by three million Malo-Russians (Red Russians, Ruthenes) in Galicia and North-eastern Hungary the only Russian tribe outside the pale of the Russian Empire; the South Slavic branch by about three million Slovenes (Carinthians and Croats) and Serbians, including some scattered Bulgarians. These Austrian Slavs are of two different kinds. One part of them consists of the remnants of tribes whose history belongs to the past, and whose present historical development is attached to that of nations of different race and speech; and to complete their unfortunate position, these hapless relics of former greatness have not even a national organisation within Austria, but, on the contrary, are divided among different provinces. Thus the Slovenes, although scarcely 1,500,000 in number, are scattered over the different provinces of Carniola, Carinthia, Styria, Croatia and South-western Hungary. The Bohemians, though the most numerous group of Austrian Slavs, are settled partly in Bohemia, partly in Moravia, and partly (the Slovak branch) in North-western Hungary. These peoples, therefore, though living exclusively on Austrian soil, are far from being recognised as constituting separate nations. They are considered as appendages, either to the German or the Hungarian nations, and in reality they are nothing else. The second portion of Austrian Slavs is composed of fragments of different tribes, which in the course of history have become separated from the great body of their nation, and which, therefore, have their centre of gravity outside of Austria. Thus, the Austrian Poles have their natural centre of gravity in Russian Poland; the Ruthenes in the other Malo-Russian provinces united with Russia; the Serbs in the Serbian Principality under Turkish rule. That these fragments, torn from their respective nationalities, will continue to gravitate, each towards its natural centre, is a matter of course, and becomes more and more evident as civilisation, and with it the want of historical, national, activity is spread among them. In either case, the Austrian Slavs are only disjecta membra, seeking their reunion either among each other, or with the main body of their separate nationalities. This is the reason why Panslavism is not a Russian but an Austrian discovery. In order to secure the restoration of each Slavic nationality, the different Slavic tribes in Austria are beginning to work for a union of all the Slavic tribes in Europe. Russia was strong in itself; Poland proved itself in the sense of the indestructible toughness of its national life and at the same time in its open enmity towards Slavic Russia. Both these nations were obviously not called upon to invent Panslavism. The Serbs and Bulgarians in Turkey were, however, too barbaric to conceive such an idea. The Bulgarians quietly subordinated themselves to the Turks; the Serbs had enough to do with the fight for their own independence.

Frederick Engels 1855 Panslavism and the Crimean War II

Originally published in Neue Oder-Zeitung, 24 April 1855. From Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, The Russian Menace to Europe, edited by Paul Blackstock and Bert Hoselitz, and published by George Allen and Unwin, London, 1953, pp 86-90. Scanned and prepared for the Marxist Internet Archive by Paul Flewers.

The first form of Austrian Panslavism was literary. Dobrovsky, a Bohemian, the founder of the scientific philology of the Slavic dialects, and Kolar, a Slovak poet from the Hungarian Carpathians, were its originators. With Dobrovsky it was the enthusiasm of a scientific discoverer; with Kolar, political ideas soon became predominant. But, as yet, Panslavism was satisfied to wallow only in elegiac moods; the greatness of the past, the disgrace, the misfortune and foreign oppression of the present, were the themes of this poetry. Is there, oh God, no man on earth, who will render the Slavs their due? The dream of a Panslavic empire dictating laws to Europe was at that time hardly hinted at. But the lamenting period soon passed away, and with it the cry merely for Justice for the Slavs!. Historical research on the political, literary and linguistic development of the Slavonic race made great progress in Austria. Schafarik, Kopitar and Miklosich as linguists, Palacky as an historian, took the lead, followed by a host of men with little or no scientific talent like Hanka and Gaj and others. The glorious epochs of Bohemian and Serbian history were depicted in glowing colours in contrast to the present degraded and broken state of those nations. Just as in Germany philosophy formed the pretext under the protection of which politics or theology were subjected to critical analysis, in Austria, and under the very nose of Metternich, philological science was used by the Panslavists as a cloak to preach the doctrine of Slavic unity, and to create a political party with the unmistakable aim of upsetting the relations of all nationalities in Austria, and instituting a vast Slavic empire in its place. The linguistic confusion which reigns east of Bohemia and Carinthia to the Black Sea is truly astonishing. The process of denationalisation among the Slavs bordering on Germany, the slow but uninterrupted advance of the Germans, the invasion of the Magyars, which separated the North Slavs from the South Slavs by a compact mass of seven million people of Finnish race, the intermixing of Turks, Tatars, Wallachians among the Slavic tribes, produced a linguistic Babel. The language varies from village to village, almost from estate to estate. Out of five million inhabitants, Bohemia alone numbers two million Germans alongside three million Slavs, surrounded, moreover, on three sides by Germans. The same is

the case with all Austrian-Slavic tribes. To restore all originally Slavic soil and territory to the Slavs, to convert Austria, with the exception of the Tirol and Lombardy, into a Slavic Empire the goal of the Panslavists is to declare null and void the historical development of the last thousand years, is to cut off a third of Germany and all of Hungary, and to change Vienna and Budapest into Slavic cities a process with which the Germans and Hungarians who own these districts cannot exactly sympathise. Moreover, the difference between the Slavic dialects is so great that, with few exceptions, they are mutually unintelligible. This was demonstrated in a comical fashion at the Slavic Congress in Prague in 1848, where, after various vain attempts to find a language intelligible to all members, they were finally obliged to use the tongue most hated by all of them the German. Thus we see that Austrian Panslavism was lacking the most essential elements of success: mass support and unity. It wanted mass support because the Panslavic party consisted only of a portion of the educated classes, and had no hold upon the masses, and hence no strength capable of resisting both the Austrian government and the German and Hungarian nationalities against which it entered the lists. It lacked unity, because its uniting principle was a mere ideal one, which, at the very first attempt at realisation, was broken up by the fact of diversity of language. In fact, so long as Panslavism was a movement limited to Austria it offered no great danger, but that very centre of unity and mass support which it wanted was very soon found for it. The national uprising of the Turkish Serbs, in the beginning of this century, had called the attention of the Russian government to the fact that there were some seven million Slavs in Turkey, whose speech, of all other Slavic dialects, most resembled the Russian. Their religion too, and their sacred language old Slavonic or Church Slavonic were exactly the same as in Russia. It was among these Serbs and Bulgarians that the Tsar for the first time began a Panslavist agitation supported by appeals to his position as the head and protector of the Greek Orthodox Church. It was, therefore, only natural that as soon as this Panslavist movement in Austria had gained consistency, Russia should extend thither on the soil of its ally the ramifications of its agencies. Where Roman Catholic Slavs were met with, the religious side of the question was dropped; Russia was merely held up as the centre of gravity of the Slavic race, as the core around which the regenerated Slavic tribes would range themselves, as the strong and united people which was to realise the great Slavic empire from the Elbe to China, and from the Adriatic to the Polar sea. Precisely here the lacking power and unity were found. Panslavism fell into the trap immediately. It thus pronounced its own judgement on itself. In order newly to restore imaginary nationalities, the Panslavists declared themselves ready to sacrifice 800 years of actual participation in civilisation to Russian-Mongolian barbarism. Was not this the natural result of a movement which began as a decided reaction against the main stream of European civilisation and continued by seeking to reverse the course of world history? Metternich, in the years of his greatest power, very well recognised the danger and saw through the Russian intrigues. He opposed the movement with all the means in his power. But all the means known to him can be summarised in one word: suppression. But the only proper means general freedom, of expansion of the German and Hungarian spirit, more than sufficient to scare away the Slavic spectre did not fit in to his system of petty policy. Accordingly, on Metternichs downfall in 1848, the Slavic movement broke out stronger than ever, and embraced a larger proportion of the population than ever

before. But here its thoroughly reactionary character at once came to light. While the German and Hungarian movements in Austria were decidedly progressive, the Slavs saved the old system from destruction, enabled Radetzky to advance on the Mincio, and Windischgraetz to conquer Vienna. And to complete the drama, and the dependence of Austria on the Slavic race, the Russian army, that great Slavic reserve, had to descend into Hungary in 1849 and settle the war for Austria there by a dictated peace. But if the adherence of the Panslavic movement to Russia was its own self-condemnation, Austria acknowledged its lack of vitality no less through the acceptance, even the provocation, of this Slavic assistance against the only three nations within its dominions which do possess and show historic vitality the Germans, Italians and Hungarians. Since 1848 this debt to Panslavism has always held Austria down, and the awareness of it has been the mainspring of Austrian policy. Austrias first move was to react against the Slavs in its own territory but this required the adoption of an at least partially progressive policy. The special privileges of all provinces were abolished; a centralised administration took the place of a federal one; and, instead of all the different nationalities, an artificial Austrian nationality was alone to be acknowledged. Though these changes were directed in some degree also against the German, Italian and Hungarian nationalities, they yet fell with far greater weight on the less compact Slavic tribes, and gave the German element a considerable preponderance. The dependence on the Slavs within the realm having been removed, there remained the dependence on Russia; and with it the necessity, at least for a moment and to a certain degree, to break this direct and humiliating dependence. That was the real reason for the wavering, but at least openly professed anti-Russian policy of Austria with respect to the Eastern Question. On the other hand, Panslavism has not disappeared; it has been deeply wounded, it grumbles, pauses, and since the intervention in Hungary looks to the Russian Tsar as its predestined Messiah. It is not our province to determine whether Austria can reply with concessions in Hungary and Poland without endangering its existence if Russia should openly step forward as the head of Panslavism. This much is certain; it is no longer Russia alone, but the Panslavist conspiracy which threatens to build its realm on the ruins of Europe. Through the undeniable strength it possesses and can maintain, the union of all Slavs will soon compel the side which opposes it to appear in a totally different form than theretofore. On this occasion we have spoken neither of Poland (to her honour usually an enemy of Panslavism) nor of the so-called democratic or socialist form of Panslavism, which differs basically only in its phraseology and hypocrisy from the ordinary genuine openly Russian variety. We have said equally little of abstract German speculation, which in sublime ignorance has sunk to becoming an organ of the Russian conspiracy. We shall return in detail to these and other questions relating to Panslavism.

Frederick Engels in Der Volkstaat 1874 The English Elections

Source: Marx Engels On Britain, Progress Publishers 1953; Written: in German by Engels, February 22,1874; First Published: unsigned in the Der Volksstaat of March 4, 1874; Transcribed: by Andy Blunden.

London, February 22, 1874

The English Parliamentary elections are now over. The brilliant Gladstone, who could not govern with a majority of sixty-six, suddenly dissolved Parliament, ordered elections within eight to fourteen days, and the result was a majority of fifty against him. The second Parliament elected under the Reform Bill of 1867 and the first by secret ballot has yielded a strong conservative majority. And it is particularly the big industrial cities and factory districts, where the workers are now absolutely in the majority, that send Conservatives to Parliament. How is this? This is primarily the result of Gladstones attempt to effect a coup d'tat by means of the elections. The election writs were issued so soon after the dissolution that many towns had hardly five days, most of them hardly eight, and the Irish, Scotch and rural electoral districts at most fourteen days for reflection. Gladstone wanted to stampede the voters, but coup d'tat simply wont work in England and attempts to stampede rebound upon those who engineer them. In consequence, the entire mass of apathetic and wavering voters voted solidly against Gladstone. Moreover, Gladstone had ruled in a way that directly flouted John Bulls traditional usage. There is no denying that John Bull is dull-witted enough to consider his government to be not his lord and master, but his servant, and at that the only one of his servants whom he can discharge forthwith without giving any notice. Now, if the party in office time and again allows its ministry, for very practical reasons, to spring a big surprise with theatrical effect on occasions when taxes are reduced or other financial measures instituted, it permits this sort of thing only by way of exception in case of important legislative measures. But Gladstone had made these legislative stage tricks the rule. His major measures were mostly as much of a surprise to his own party as to his opponents. These measures were practically foisted upon the Liberals, because if they did not vote for them they would immediately put the opposition party in power. And if the contents of many of these measures, e.g., the Irish Church Bill and the Irish Land Bill, were for all their wretchedness an abomination to many old liberal-conservative

Whigs, so to the whole of the party was the manner in which these bills were forced upon it. But this was not enough for Gladstone. He had secured the abolition of the purchase of army commissions by appealing without the slightest need to the authority of the Crown instead of Parliament, thereby offending his own party. In addition he had surrounded himself with a number of importunate mediocrities who possessed no other talent than the ability to make themselves needlessly obnoxious. Particular mention must be made here of Bruce, Minister of Home Affairs, and Ayrton, the real head of the London local government. The former was distinguished for his rudeness and arrogance towards workers deputations; the latter ruled London in a wholly Prussian manner, for instance, in the case of the attempt to suppress the right to hold public meetings in the parks. But since such things simply cant be done here, as is shown by the fact that the Irish immediately held a huge mass meeting in Hyde Park right under Mr. Ayrtons nose in spite of the Park ordinance, the Government suffered a number of minor defeats and increasing unpopularity in consequence. Finally, the secret ballot has enabled a large number of workers who usually were politically passive to vote with impunity against their exploiters and against the party in which they rightly see that of the big barons of industry, namely, the Liberal Party. This is true even where most of these barons, following the prevailing fashion, have gone over to the Conservatives. If the Liberal Party in England does not represent large-scale industry as opposed to big landed property and high finance, it represents nothing at all. Already the previous Parliament ranked below the average in its general intellectual level. It consisted mainly of the rural gentry and the sons of big landed proprietors, on the one hand, and of bankers, railway directors, brewers, manufacturers and sundry other rich upstarts, on the other; in between, a few statesmen, jurists and professors. Quite a number of the last-named representatives of the intelligentsia failed to get elected this time, so that the new Parliament represents big landed property and the money-bags even more exclusively than the preceding one. It differs, however, from the preceding one in comprising two new elements: two workers and about fifty Irish Home Rulers. As regards the workers it must be stated, to begin with, that no separate political working-class party has existed in England since the downfall of the Chartist Party in the fifties. This is understandable in a country in which the working-class has shared more than anywhere else in the advantages of the immense expansion of its large-scale industry. Nor could it have been otherwise in an England that ruled the world market; and certainly not in a country where the ruling classes have set themselves the task of carrying out, parallel with other concessions, one point of the Chartists programme, the Peoples Charter, after another. Of the six points of the Charter two have already become law: the secret ballot and the abolition of property qualifications for the suffrage. The third, universal suffrage, has been introduced, at least approximately; the last three points are still entirely unfulfilled: annual parliaments, payment of members, and, most important, equal electoral areas. Whenever the workers lately took part in general politics in particular organisations they did so almost exclusively as the extreme left wing of the great Liberal Party and in this role they were duped at each election according to all the rules of the game by the great Liberal Party. Then all of a sudden came the Reform Bill which at one blow changed the political status of the workers. In all the big cities they

now form the majority of the voters and in England the Government as well as the candidates for Parliament are accustomed to court the electorate. The chairmen and secretaries of Trade Unions and political working-mens societies, as well as other well-known labour spokesmen who might be expected to be influential in their class, had overnight become important people. They were visited by Members of Parliament, by lords and other well-born rabble, and sympathetic enquiry was suddenly made into the wishes and needs of the working-class. Questions were discussed with these labour leaders which formerly evoked a supercilious smile or the mere posture of which used to be condemned; and one contributed to collections for working-class purposes. It ,thereupon quite naturally occurred to the labour leaders that they should get themselves elected to Parliament, to which their high-class friends gladly agreed in general, but of course only for the purpose of frustrating as far as possible the election of workers in each particular case. Thus the matter got no further. Nobody holds it against the labour leaders that they would have liked to get into Parliament. The shortest way would have been to proceed at once to form anew a strong workers party with a definite programme, and the best political programme they could wish for was the Peoples Charter. But the Chartists name was in bad odour with the bourgeoisie precisely because theirs had been an outspokenly proletarian party, and so, rather than continue the glorious tradition of the Chartists, the labour leaders preferred to deal with their aristocratic friends and be .'respectable, which in England means acting like a bourgeois. Whereas under the old franchise the workers had to a certain extent been compelled to figure as the tail of the radical bourgeoisie, it was inexcusable to make them go on playing that part after the Reform Bill had opened the door of Parliament to at least sixty working-class candidates. This was the turning point. In order to get into Parliament the labour leaders had recourse, in the first place, to the votes and money of the bourgeoisie and only in the second place to the votes of the workers themselves. But by doing so they ceased to be workers candidates and turned themselves into bourgeois candidates. They did not appeal to a working-class party that still had to be formed but to the bourgeois great Liberal Party. Among themselves they organised a mutual election assurance society, the Labour Representation League,[1] whose very slender means were derived in the main from bourgeois sources. But this was not all. The radical bourgeois has sense enough to realise that the election of workers to Parliament is becoming more and more inevitable; it is therefore in their interest to keep the prospective working-class candidates under their control and thus postpone their actual election as long, as possible. For that purpose they have their Mr. Samuel Morley, a London millionaire, who does not mind spending a couple of thousand pounds in order, on the one hand, to be able to act as the commanding general of this sham labour general staff and, on the other, with its assistance to let himself be hailed by the masses as a friend of labour, out of gratitude for his duping the workers. And then, about a year ago, when it became ever more likely that Parliament would be dissolved, Morley called his faithful together in the London Tavern. They all appeared, the Potters, Howells, Odgers, Haleses, Mottersheads, Cremers, Eccariuses and the rest of them a conclave of people everyone of whom had served, or at least had offered to serve, during the previous Parliamentary elections, in the pay of the bourgeoisie, as an agitator for the great Liberal Party. Under Morleys chairmanship this conclave drew up a labour programme to which any bourgeois could subscribe and which was to form

the foundation of a mighty movement to chain the workers politically still more firmly to the bourgeoise and, as these gentry thought, to get the founders into Parliament. Besides, dangling before their lustful eyes these founders already saw a goodly number of Morleys five-pound notes with which they expected to line their pockets before the election campaign was over. But the whole movement fell through before it had fairly started. Mr. Morley locked his safe and the founders once more disappeared from the scene. Four weeks ago Gladstone suddenly dissolved Parliament. The inevitable labour leaders began to breathe again: either they would get themselves elected or they would again become well-paid itinerant preachers of the cause of the great Liberal Party. But alas! the day appointed for the elections was so close that they were cheated out of both chances. True enough, a few did stand for Parliament; but since in England every candidate, before he can be voted upon, must contribute two hundred pounds (1,240 thaler) towards the election expenses and the workers had almost nowhere been organised for this purpose, only such of them could stand as candidates seriously as obtained this sum from the bourgeoisie, i.e., as acted with its gracious permission. With this the bourgeoisie had done its duty and in the elections themselves allowed them all to suffer a complete fiasco. Only two workers got in, both miners from coal pits. This trade is very strongly organised in three big unions, has considerable means at its disposal, controls an undisputed majority of the voters in some constituencies and has worked systematically for direct representation in Parliament ever since the Reform Acts were passed. The candidates put up were the secretaries of the three Trade Unions. The one, Halliday, lost out in Wales; the other two came out on top: MacDonald in Stafford and Burt in Morpeth. Burt is little known outside of his constituency. MacDonald, however, betrayed the workers of his trade when, during the negotiations on the last mining law, which he attended as the representative of his trade, he sanctioned an amendment which was so grossly in the interests of the capitalists that even the government had not dared to include it in the draft. At any rate, the ice has been broken and two workers now have seats in the most fashionable debating club of Europe, among those who have declared themselves the first gentlemen of Europe. Alongside of them sit at least fifty Irish Home Rulers. When the Fenian (Irish-republican) rebellion of 1867 had been quelled and the military leaders of the Fenians had either gradually been caught or driven to emigrate to America, the remnants of the Fenian conspiracy soon lost all importance. Violent insurrection :had no prospect of success for many years, at least until such time as England would again be involved in serious difficulties abroad. Hence a legal movement remained the only possibility, and such a movement was undertaken under the banner of the Home Rulers, who wanted the Irish to be masters in their own house. They made the definite demand that the Imperial Parliament in London should cede to a special Irish Parliament in Dublin the right to legislate on all purely Irish questions; very wisely nothing was said meanwhile about what was to be understood as a purely Irish question. This movement, at first scoffed at by the English press, has become so powerful that Irish M.P.s of the most diverse party complexions- Conservatives and Liberals, Protestants and Catholics (Butt, who leads the movement, is himself a Protestant) and even a native-born Englishman sitting for Golway have had to

join it. For the first time since the days of O'Connell, whose repeal movement collapsed in the general reaction about the same time as the Chartist movement, as a result of the events of 1848 he had died in 1847 a well-knit Irish party once again has entered Parliament, but under circumstances that hardly permit it constantly to compromise A la O'Connell with the Liberals or to have individual members of it sell themselves retail to Liberal governments, as after him has become the fashion. Thus both motive forces of English political development have now entered Parliament: on the one side the workers, on the other the Irish as a compact national party. And even if they may hardly be expected to play a big role in this Parliament the workers will certainly not the elections of 1874 have indisputably ushered in a new phase in English political development.

Notes 1. Labour Representation League: Founded in November 1869 by the London trade-union leaders who stood on the platform of liberal labour politics. It stopped functioning at the end of the seventies.



Karl Marx The German Ideology Part I: Feuerbach. Opposition of the Materialist and Idealist Outlook B. The Illusion of the Epoch

Civil Society and the Conception of History The form of intercourse determined by the existing productive forces at all previous historical stages, and in its turn determining these, is civil society. The latter, as is clear from what we have said above, has as its premises and basis the simple family and the multiple, the so-called tribe, the more precise determinants of this society are enumerated in our remarks above. Already here we see how this civil society is the true source and theatre of all history, and how absurd is the conception of history held hitherto, which neglects the real relationships and confines itself to high-sounding dramas of princes and states.

Civil society embraces the whole material intercourse of individuals within a definite stage of the development of productive forces. It embraces the whole commercial and industrial life of a given stage and, insofar, transcends the State and the nation, though, on the other hand again, it must assert itself in its foreign relations as nationality, and inwardly must organise itself as State. The word civil society [brgerliche Gesellschaft] emerged in the eighteenth century, when property relationships had already extricated themselves from the ancient and medieval communal society. Civil society as such only develops with the bourgeoisie; the social organisation evolving directly out of production and commerce, which in all ages forms the basis of the State and of the rest of the idealistic superstructure, has, however, always been designated by the same name. Conclusions from the Materialist Conception of History History is nothing but the succession of the separate generations, each of which exploits the materials, the capital funds, the productive forces handed down to it by all preceding generations, and thus, on the one hand, continues the traditional activity in completely changed circumstances and, on the other, modifies the old circumstances with a completely changed activity. This can be speculatively distorted so

that later history is made the goal of earlier history, e.g. the goal ascribed to the discovery of America is to further the eruption of the French Revolution. Thereby history receives its own special aims and becomes a person rating with other persons (to wit: Self-Consciousness, Criticism, the Unique, etc.), while what is designated with the words destiny, goal, germ, or idea of earlier history is nothing more than an abstraction formed from later history, from the active influence which earlier history exercises on later history. The further the separate spheres, which interact on one another, extend in the course of this development, the more the original isolation of the separate nationalities is destroyed by the developed mode of production and intercourse and the division of labour between various nations naturally brought forth by these, the more history becomes world history. Thus, for instance, if in England a machine is invented, which deprives countless workers of bread in India and China, and overturns the whole form of existence of these empires, this invention becomes a world-historical fact. Or again, take the case of sugar and coffee which have proved their world-historical importance in the nineteenth century by the fact that the lack of these products, occasioned by the Napoleonic Continental System, caused the Germans to rise against Napoleon, and thus became the real basis of the glorious Wars of liberation of 1813. From this it follows that this transformation of history into world history is not indeed a mere abstract act on the part of the self-consciousness, the world spirit, or of any other metaphysical spectre, but a quite material, empirically verifiable act, an act the proof of which every individual furnishes as he comes and goes, eats, drinks and clothes himself.

[7. Summary of the Materialist Conception of History] This conception of history depends on our ability to expound the real process of production, starting out from the material production of life itself, and to comprehend the form of intercourse connected with this and created by this mode of production (i.e. civil society in its various stages), as the basis of all history; and to show it in its action as State, to explain all the different theoretical products and forms of consciousness, religion, philosophy, ethics, etc. etc. and trace their origins and growth from that basis; by which means, of course, the whole thing can be depicted in its totality (and therefore, too, the reciprocal action of these various sides on one another). It has not, like the idealistic view of history, in every period to look for a category, but remains constantly on the real ground of history; it does not explain practice from the idea but explains the formation of ideas from material practice; and accordingly it comes to the conclusion that all forms and products of consciousness cannot be dissolved by mental criticism, by resolution into self-consciousness or transformation into apparitions, spectres, fancies, etc. but only by the practical overthrow of the actual social relations which gave rise to this idealistic humbug; that not criticism but revolution is the driving force of history, also of religion, of philosophy and all other types of theory. It shows that history does not end by being resolved into self-consciousness as spirit of the spirit, but that in it at each stage there is found a material result: a sum of productive forces, an historically created relation of individuals to nature and to one another, which is handed down to each generation from its predecessor; a mass of productive forces, capital funds and conditions, which, on the one hand, is indeed modified by the new generation, but

also on the other prescribes for it its conditions of life and gives it a definite development, a special character. It shows that circumstances make men just as much as men make circumstances. This sum of productive forces, capital funds and social forms of intercourse, which every individual and generation finds in existence as something given, is the real basis of what the philosophers have conceived as substance and essence of man, and what they have deified and attacked; a real basis which is not in the least disturbed, in its effect and influence on the development of men, by the fact that these philosophers revolt against it as self-consciousness and the Unique. These conditions of life, which different generations find in existence, decide also whether or not the periodically recurring revolutionary convulsion will be strong enough to overthrow the basis of the entire existing system. And if these material elements of a complete revolution are not present (namely, on the one hand the existing productive forces, on the other the formation of a revolutionary mass, which revolts not only against separate conditions of society up till then, but against the very production of life till then, the total activity on which it was based), then, as far as practical development is concerned, it is absolutely immaterial whether the idea of this revolution has been expressed a hundred times already, as the history of communism proves. [8. The Inconsistency of the Idealist Conception of History in General, and of German Post-Hegelian Philosophy in Particular] In the whole conception of history up to the present this real basis of history has either been totally neglected or else considered as a minor matter quite irrelevant to the course of history. History must, therefore, always be written according to an extraneous standard; the real production of life seems to be primeval history, while the truly historical appears to be separated from ordinary life, something extra-superterrestrial. With this the relation of man to nature is excluded from history and hence the antithesis of nature and history is created. The exponents of this conception of history have consequently only been able to see in history the political actions of princes and States, religious and all sorts of theoretical struggles, and in particular in each historical epoch have had to share the illusion of that epoch. For instance, if an epoch imagines itself to be actuated by purely political or religious motives, although religion and politics are only forms of its true motives, the historian accepts this opinion. The idea, the conception of the people in question about their real practice, is transformed into the sole determining, active force, which controls and determines their practice. When the crude form in which the division of labour appears with the Indians and Egyptians calls forth the caste-system in their State and religion, the historian believes that the caste-system is the power which has produced this crude social form. While the French and the English at least hold by the political illusion, which is moderately close to reality, the Germans move in the realm of the pure spirit, and make religious illusion the driving force of history. The Hegelian philosophy of history is the last consequence, reduced to its finest expression, of all this German historiography, for which it is not a question of real, nor even of political, interests, but of pure thoughts, which consequently must appear to Saint Bruno as a series of thoughts that devour one another and are finally swallowed up in self-consciousness.

Marginal note by Marx: So-called objective historiography [23] consisted precisely, in treating the historical relations separately from activity. Reactionary character. and even more consistently the course of history must appear to Saint Max Stirner, who knows not a thing about real history, as a mere tale of knights, robbers and ghosts,[24] from whose visions he can, of course, only save himself by unholiness. This conception is truly religious: it postulates religious man as the primitive man, the starting-point of history, and in its imagination puts the religious production of fancies in the place of the real production of the means of subsistence and of life itself. This whole conception of history, together with its dissolution and the scruples and qualms resulting from it, is a purely national affair of the Germans and has merely local interest for Germany, as for instance the important question which has been under discussion in recent times: how exactly one passes from the realm of God to the realm of Man [Ludwig Feuerbach, Ueber das Wesen des Christenthums] as if this realm of God had ever existed anywhere save in the imagination, and the learned gentlemen, without being aware of it, were not constantly living in the realm of Man to which they are now seeking the way; and as if the learned pastime (for it is nothing more) of explaining the mystery of this theoretical bubble-blowing did not on the contrary lie in demonstrating its origin in actual earthly relations. For these Germans, it is altogether simply a matter of resolving the ready-made nonsense they find into some other freak, i.e., of presupposing that all this nonsense has a special sense which can be discovered; while really it is only a question of explaining these theoretical phrases from the actual existing relations. The real, practical dissolution of these phrases, the removal of these notions from the consciousness of men, will, as we have already said, be effected by altered circumstances, not by theoretical deductions. For the mass of men, i.e., the proletariat, these theoretical notions do not exist and hence do not require to be dissolved, and if this mass ever had any theoretical notions, e.g., religion, these have now long been dissolved by circumstances. The purely national character of these questions and solutions is moreover shown by the fact that these theorists believe in all seriousness that chimeras like the God-Man, Man, etc., have presided over individual epochs of history (Saint Bruno even goes so far as to assert that only criticism and critics have made history, [Bruno Bauer, Charakteristik Ludwig Feuerbachs] and when they themselves construct historical systems, they skip over all earlier periods in the greatest haste and pass immediately from Mongolism [Max Stirner, Der Einzige und sein Eigenthum] to history with meaningful content, that is to say, to the history, of the Hallische and Deutsche Jahrbcher and the dissolution of the Hegelian school into a general squabble. They forget all other nations, all real events, and the theatrum mundi is confined to the Leipzig book fair and the mutual quarrels of criticism,*Bruno Bauer+ man, [Ludwig Feuerbach] and the unique. [Max Stirner] If for once these theorists treat really historical subjects, as for instance the eighteenth century, they merely give a history of ideas, separated from the facts and the practical development underlying them; and even that merely in order to represent that period as an imperfect preliminary stage, the as yet limited predecessor of the truly historical age, i.e., the period of the German philosophic struggle from 1840 to 1844. As might be expected when the history of an earlier period is written with the aim of accentuating the brilliance of an unhistoric person and his

fantasies, all the really historic events, even the really historic interventions of politics in history, receive no mention. Instead we get a narrative based not on research but on arbitrary constructions and literary gossip, such as Saint Bruno provided in his now forgotten history of the eighteenth century. [Bruno Bauer, Geschichte der Politik, Cultur und Aufklrung des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts] These pompous and arrogant hucksters of ideas, who imagine themselves infinitely exalted above all national prejudices, are thus in practice far more national than the beer-swilling philistines who dream of a united Germany. They do not recognise the deeds of other nations as historical; they live in Germany, within Germany 1281 and for Germany; they turn the Rhine-song [25] into a religious hymn and conquer Alsace and Lorraine by robbing French philosophy instead of the French state, by Germanising French ideas instead of French provinces. Herr Venedey is a cosmopolitan compared with the Saints Bruno and Max, who, in the universal dominance of theory, proclaim the universal dominance of Germany.

Feuerbach: Philosophic, and Real, Liberation [...] It is also clear from these arguments how grossly Feuerbach is deceiving himself when (Wigands Vierteljahrsschrift, 1845, Band 2) by virtue of the qualification common man he declares himself a communist,[26]transforms the latter into a predicate of man, and thereby thinks it possible to change the word communist, which in the real world means the follower of a definite revolutionary party, into a mere category. Feuerbachs whole deduction with regard to the relation of men to one another goes only so far as to prove that men need and always have needed each other. He wants to establish consciousness of this fact, that is to say, like the other theorists, merely to produce a correct consciousness about an existing fact; whereas for the real communist it is a question of overthrowing the existing state of things. We thoroughly appreciate, moreover, that Feuerbach, in endeavouring to produce consciousness of just this fact, is going as far as a theorist possibly can, without ceasing to be a theorist and philosopher... As an example of Feuerbachs acceptance and at the same time misunderstanding of existing reality, which he still shares with our opponents, we recall the passage in the Philosophie der Zukunft where he develops the view that the existence of a thing or a man is at the same time its or his essence, that the conditions of existence, the mode of life and activity of an animal or human individual are those in which its essence feels itself satisfied. Here every exception is expressly conceived as an unhappy chance, as an abnormality which cannot be altered. Thus if millions of proletarians feel by no means contented with their living conditions, if their existence does not in the least correspond to their essence, then, according to the passage quoted, this is an unavoidable misfortune, which must be borne quietly. The millions of proletarians and communists, however, think differently and will prove this in time, when they bring their existence into harmony with their essence in a practical way, by means of a revolution. Feuerbach, therefore, never speaks of the world of man in such cases, but always takes refuge in external nature, and moreover in nature which has not yet been subdued by men. But every new invention, every advance made by industry, detaches another piece from this domain, so that the ground which produces examples illustrating such Feuerbachian propositions is steadily shrinking.

The essence of the fish is its being, water to go no further than this one proposition. The essence of the freshwater fish is the water of a river. But the latter ceases to be the essence of the fish and is no longer a suitable medium of existence as soon as the river is made to serve industry, as soon as it is polluted by dyes and other waste products and navigated by steamboats, or as soon as its water is diverted into canals where simple drainage can deprive the fish of its medium of existence. The explanation that all such contradictions are inevitable abnormalities does not essentially differ from the consolation which Saint Max Stirner offers to the discontented, saving that this contradiction is their own contradiction and this predicament their own predicament, whereupon then, should either set their minds at ease, keep their disgust to themselves, or revolt against it in some fantastic way. It differs just as little from Saint Brunos allegation that these unfortunate circumstances are due to the fact that those concerned are stuck in the muck of substance, have not advanced to absolute selfconsciousness and do not realise that these adverse conditions are spirit of their spirit.

[II. 1. Preconditions of the Real Liberation of Man] [...] We shall, of course, not take the trouble to enlighten our wise philosophers by explaining to them that the liberation of man is not advanced a single step by reducing philosophy, theology, substance and all the trash to self-consciousness and by liberating man from the domination of these phrases, which have never held him in thrall. Nor will we explain to them that it is only possible to achieve real liberation in the real world and by employing real means, that slavery cannot be abolished without the steam-engine and the mule and spinning-jenny, serfdom cannot be abolished without improved agriculture, and that, in general, people cannot be liberated as long as they are unable to obtain food and drink, housing and clothing in adequate quality and quantity. Liberation is an historical and not a mental act, and it is brought about by historical conditions, the development of industry, commerce, agriculture, the conditions of intercourse...[There is here a gap in the manuscript] In Germany, a country where only a trivial historical development is taking place, these mental developments, these glorified and ineffective trivialities, naturally serve as a substitute for the lack of historical development, and they take root and have to be combated. But this fight is of local importance. [2. Feuerbachs Contemplative and Inconsistent Materialism] In reality and for the practical materialist, i.e. the communist, it is a question of revolutionising the existing world, of practically attacking and changing existing things. When occasionally we find such views with Feuerbach, they are never more than isolated surmises and have much too little influence on his general outlook to be considered here as anything else than embryos capable of development. Feuerbachs conception of the sensuous world is confined on the one hand to mere contemplation of it, and on the other to mere feeling; he says Man instead of real historical man. Man is really the German. In the first case, the contemplation of the sensuous world, he necessarily lights on things

which contradict his consciousness and feeling, which disturb the harmony he presupposes, the harmony of all parts of the sensuous world and especially of man and nature. To remove this disturbance, he must take refuge in a double perception, a profane one which only perceives the flatly obvious and a higher, philosophical, one which perceives the true essence of things. He does not see how the sensuous world around him is, not a thing given direct from all eternity, remaining ever the same, but the product of industry and of the state of society; and, indeed, in the sense that it is an historical product, the result of the activity of a whole succession of generations, each standing on the shoulders of the preceding one, developing its industry and its intercourse, modifying its social system according to the changed needs. Even the objects of the simplest sensuous certainty are only given him through social development, industry and commercial intercourse. The cherry-tree, like almost all fruit-trees, was, as is well known, only a few centuries ago transplanted by commerce into our zone, and therefore only by this action of a definite society in a definite age it has become sensuous certainty for Feuerbach. Incidentally, when we conceive things thus, as they really are and happened, every profound philosophical problem is resolved, as will be seen even more clearly later, quite simply into an empirical fact. For instance, the important question of the relation of man to nature (Bruno [Bauer] goes so far as to speak of the antitheses in nature and history (p. 110), as though these were two separate things and man did not always have before him an historical nature and a natural history) out of which all the unfathomably lofty works on substance and self-consciousness were born, crumbles of itself when we understand that the celebrated unity of man with nature has always existed in industry and has existed in varying forms in every epoch according to the lesser or greater development of industry, just like the struggle of man with nature, right up to the development of his productive powers on a corresponding basis. Industry and commerce, production and the exchange of the necessities of life, themselves determine distribution, the structure of the different social classes and are, in turn, determined by it as to the mode in which they are carried on; and so it happens that in Manchester, for instance, Feuerbach sees only factories and machines, where a hundred years ago only spinning-wheels and weaving-rooms were to be seen, or in the Campagna of Rome he finds only pasture lands and swamps, where in the time of Augustus he would have found nothing but the vineyards and villas of Roman capitalists. Feuerbach speaks in particular of the perception of natural science; he mentions secrets which are disclosed only to the eye of the physicist and chemist; but where would natural science be without industry and commerce? Even this pure natural science is provided with an aim, as with its material, only through trade and industry, through the sensuous activity of men. So much is this activity, this unceasing sensuous labour and creation, this production, the basis of the whole sensuous world as it now exists, that, were it interrupted only for a year, Feuerbach would not only find an enormous change in the natural world, but would very soon find that the whole world of men and his own perceptive faculty, nay his own existence, were missing. Of course, in all this the priority of external nature remains unassailed, and all this has no application to the original men produced by generatio aequivoca [spontaneous generation]; but this differentiation has meaning only insofar as man is considered to be distinct from nature. For that matter, nature, the nature that preceded human history, is not by any means the nature in which Feuerbach lives, it is nature which today no longer exists

anywhere (except perhaps on a few Australian coral-islands of recent origin) and which, therefore, does not exist for Feuerbach. Certainly Feuerbach has a great advantage over the pure materialists in that he realises how man too is an object of the senses. But apart from the fact that he only conceives him as an object of the senses, not as sensuous activity, because he still remains in the realm of theory and conceives of men not in their given social connection, not under their existing conditions of life, which have made them what they are, he never arrives at the really existing active men, but stops at the abstraction man, and gets no further than recognising the true, individual, corporeal man, emotionally, i.e. he knows no other human relationships of man to man than love and friendship, and even then idealised. He gives no criticism of the present conditions of life. Thus he never manages to conceive the sensuous world as the total living sensuous activity of the individuals composing it; and therefore when, for example, he sees instead of healthy men a crowd of scrofulous, overworked and consumptive starvelings, he is compelled to take refuge in the higher perception and in the ideal compensation in the species, and thus to relapse into idealism at the very point where the communist materialist sees the necessity, and at the same time the condition, of a transformation both of industry and of the social structure. As far as Feuerbach is a materialist he does not deal with history, and as far as he considers history he is not a materialist. With him materialism and history diverge completely, a fact which incidentally is already obvious from what has been said.

Ruling Class and Ruling Ideas The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e. the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it. The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant material relationships, the dominant material relationships grasped as ideas; hence of the relationships which make the one class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas of its dominance. The individuals composing the ruling class possess among other things consciousness, and therefore think. Insofar, therefore, as they rule as a class and determine the extent and compass of an epoch, it is self-evident that they do this in its whole range, hence among other things rule also as thinkers, as producers of ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas of their age: thus their ideas are the ruling ideas of the epoch. For instance, in an age and in a country where royal power, aristocracy, and bourgeoisie are contending for mastery and where, therefore, mastery is shared, the doctrine of the separation of powers proves to be the dominant idea and is expressed as an eternal law. The division of labour, which we already saw above as one of the chief forces of history up till now, manifests itself also in the ruling class as the division of mental and material labour, so that inside this class one part appears as the thinkers of the class (its active, conceptive ideologists, who make the

perfecting of the illusion of the class about itself their chief source of livelihood), while the others attitude to these ideas and illusions is more passive and receptive, because they are in reality the active members of this class and have less time to make up illusions and ideas about themselves. Within this class this cleavage can even develop into a certain opposition and hostility between the two parts, which, however, in the case of a practical collision, in which the class itself is endangered, automatically comes to nothing, in which case there also vanishes the semblance that the ruling ideas were not the ideas of the ruling class and had a power distinct from the power of this class. The existence of revolutionary ideas in a particular period presupposes the existence of a revolutionary class; about the premises for the latter sufficient has already been said above. If now in considering the course of history we detach the ideas of the ruling class from the ruling class itself and attribute to them an independent existence, if we confine ourselves to saying that these or those ideas were dominant at a given time, without bothering ourselves about the conditions of production and the producers of these ideas, if we thus ignore the individuals and world conditions which are the source of the ideas, we can say, for instance, that during the time that the aristocracy was dominant, the concepts honour, loyalty, etc. were dominant, during the dominance of the bourgeoisie the concepts freedom, equality, etc. The ruling class itself on the whole imagines this to be so. This conception of history, which is common to all historians, particularly since the eighteenth century, will necessarily come up against the phenomenon that increasingly abstract ideas hold sway, i.e. ideas which increasingly take on the form of universality. For each new class which puts itself in the place of one ruling before it, is compelled, merely in order to carry through its aim, to represent its interest as the common interest of all the members of society, that is, expressed in ideal form: it has to give its ideas the form of universality, and represent them as the only rational, universally valid ones. The class making a revolution appears from the very start, if only because it is opposed to a class, not as a class but as the representative of the whole of society; it appears as the whole mass of society confronting the one ruling class.

Marginal note by Marx: Universality corresponds to (1) the class versus the estate, (2) the competition, world-wide intercourse, etc., (3) the great numerical strength of the ruling class, (4) the illusion of the common interests (in the beginning this illusion is true), (5) the delusion of the ideologists and the division of labour. It can do this because, to start with, its interest really is more connected with the common interest of all other non-ruling classes, because under the pressure of hitherto existing conditions its interest has not yet been able to develop as the particular interest of a particular class. Its victory, therefore, benefits also many individuals of the other classes which are not winning a dominant position, but only insofar as it now puts these individuals in a position to raise themselves into the ruling class. When the French bourgeoisie overthrew the power of the aristocracy, it thereby made it possible for many proletarians to raise themselves above the proletariat, but only insofar as they become bourgeois. Every new class, therefore, achieves its hegemony only on a broader basis than that of the class ruling previously, whereas the opposition of the non-ruling class against the new ruling class later develops all

the more sharply and profoundly. Both these things determine the fact that the struggle to be waged against this new ruling class, in its turn, aims at a more decided and radical negation of the previous conditions of society than could all previous classes which sought to rule. This whole semblance, that the rule of a certain class is only the rule of certain ideas, comes to a natural end, of course, as soon as class rule in general ceases to be the form in which society is organised, that is to say, as soon as it is no longer necessary to represent a particular interest as general or the general interest as ruling. Once the ruling ideas have been separated from the ruling individuals and, above all, from the relationships which result from a given stage of the mode of production, and in this way the conclusion has been reached that history is always under the sway of ideas, it is very easy to abstract from these various ideas the idea, the notion, etc. as the dominant force in history, and thus to understand all these separate ideas and concepts as forms of self-determination on the part of the concept developing in history. It follows then naturally, too, that all the relationships of men can be derived from the concept of man, man as conceived, the essence of man, Man. This has been done by the speculative philosophers. Hegel himself confesses at the end of the Geschichtsphilosophie that he has considered the progress of the concept only and has represented in history the true theodicy. (p.446.) Now one can go back again to the producers of the concept, to the theorists, ideologists and philosophers, and one comes then to the conclusion that the philosophers, the thinkers as such, have at all times been dominant in history: a conclusion, as we see[27], already expressed by Hegel. The whole trick of proving the hegemony of the spirit in history (hierarchy Stirner calls it) is thus confined to the following three efforts. No. 1. One must separate the ideas of those ruling for empirical reasons, under empirical conditions and as empirical individuals, from these actual rulers, and thus recognise the rule of ideas or illusions in history. No. 2. One must bring an order into this rule of ideas, prove a mystical connection among the successive ruling ideas, which is managed by understanding them as acts of self-determination on the part of the concept (this is possible because by virtue of their empirical basis these ideas are really connected with one another and because, conceived as mere ideas, they become self-distinctions, distinctions made by thought). No. 3. To remove the mystical appearance of this self-determining concept it is changed into a person Self-Consciousness or, to appear thoroughly materialistic, into a series of persons, who represent the concept in history, into the thinkers, the philosophers, the ideologists, who again are understood as the manufacturers of history, as the council of guardians, as the rulers. Thus the whole body of materialistic elements has been removed from history and now full rein can be given to the speculative steed. Whilst in ordinary life every shopkeeper is very well able to distinguish between what somebody professes to be and what he really is, our historians have not yet won even this trivial insight. They take every epoch at its word and believe that everything it says and imagines about itself is true.

This historical method which reigned in Germany, and especially the reason why, must be understood from its connection with the illusion of ideologists in general, e.g. the illusions of the jurist, politicians (of the practical statesmen among them, too), from the dogmatic dreamings and distortions of these fellows; this is explained perfectly easily from their practical position in life, their job, and the division of labour.

Works of Karl Marx 1848 Speech to the Democratic Association of Brussels at its public meeting of January 9, 1848 [246] On the Question of Free Trade

Source, MECW Volume 6, p. 450; Written: 9 January 1848; First published: as a pamphlet in Brussels, February 1848.

Gentlemen, The Repeal of the Corn Laws in England is the greatest triumph of free trade in the 19th century. In every country where manufacturers talk of free trade, they have in mind chiefly free trade in corn and raw materials in general. To impose protective duties on foreign corn is infamous, it is to speculate on the famine of peoples. Cheap food, high wages, this is the sole aim for which English free-traders have spent millions, and their enthusiasm has already spread to their brethren on the Continent. Generally speaking, those who wish for free trade desire it in order to alleviate the condition of the working class. But, strange to say, the people for whom cheap food is to be procured at all costs are very ungrateful. Cheap food is as ill-esteemed in England as cheap government is in France. The people see in these selfsacrificing gentlemen, in Bowring, Bright and Co., their worst enemies and the most shameless hypocrites. Everyone knows that in England the struggle between Liberals and Democrats takes the name of the struggle between Free-Traders and Chartists. Let us now see how the English free-traders have proved to the people the good intentions that animate them. This is what they said to the factory workers: "The duty levied on corn is a tax upon wages; this tax you pay to the landlords, those medieval aristocrats; if your position is wretched one, it is on account of the dearness of the immediate necessities of life." The workers in turn asked the manufacturers:

"How is it that in the course of the last 30 years, while our industry has undergone the greatest development, our wages have fallen far more rapidly, in proportion, than the price of corn has gone up? "The tax which you say we pay the landlords is about 3 pence a week per worker. And yet the wages of the hand-loom weaver fell, between 1815 and 1843, from 28s. per week to 5s., and the wages of the power-loom weavers, between 1823 and 1843, from 20s. per week to 8s. "And during the whole of this period that portion of the tax which we paid to the landlord has never exceeded 3 pence. And, then in the year 1834, when bread was very cheap and business going on very well, what did you tell us? You said, 'If you are unfortunate, it is because you have too many children, and your marriages are more productive than your labor!' "These are the very words you spoke to us, and you set about making new Poor Laws, and building work-houses, the Bastilles of the proletariat." To this the manufacturer replied: "You are right, worthy laborers; it is not the price of corn alone, but competition of the hands among themselves as well, which determined wages. "But ponder well one thing, namely, that our soil consists only of rocks and sandbanks. You surely do not imagine that corn can be grown in flower-pots. So if, instead of lavishing our capital and our labor upon a thoroughly sterile soil, we were to give up agriculture, and devote ourselves exclusively to industry, all Europe would abandon its factories, and England would form one huge factory town, with the whole of the rest of Europe for its countryside." While thus haranguing his own workingmen, the manufacturer is interrogated by the small trader, who says to him: "If we repeal the Corn Laws, we shall indeed ruin agriculture; but for all that, we shall not compel other nations to give up their own factories and buy from ours. "What will the consequence be? I shall lose the customers that I have at present in the country, and the home trade will lose its market." The manufacturer, turning his back upon the workers, replies to the shopkeeper: "As to that, you leave it to us! Once rid of the duty on corn, we shall import cheaper corn from abroad. Then we shall reduce wages at the very time when they rise in the countries where we get out corn. "Thus in addition to the advantages which we already enjoy we shall also have that of lower wages and, with all these advantage, we shall easily force the Continent to buy from us." But now the farmers and agricultural laborers join in the discussion. "And what, pray, is to become of us?

"Are we going to pass a sentence of death upon agriculture, from which we get our living? Are we to allow the soil to be torn from beneath our feet?" As its whole answer, the Anti-Corn Law League has contented itself with offering prizes for the three best essays upon the wholesome influence of the repeal of the Corn Laws on English agriculture. These prizes were carried off by Messrs. Hope, Morse, and Greg, whose essays were distributed in thousands of copies throughout the countryside. The first of the prize-winners devotes himself to proving that neither the tenant farmer nor the agricultural laborer will lose by the free importation of foreign corn, but only the landlord. "The English tenant farmer," he exclaims, "need not fear the repeal of the Corn Laws, because no other country can produce such good corn so cheaply as England. "Thus, even if the price of corn fell, it would not hurt you, because this fall would only affect rent, which would go down, and not at all industrial profit and wages, which would remain stationary." The second prize-winner, Mr. Morse, maintains, on the contrary, that the price of corn will rise in consequence of repeal. He takes infinite pains to prove that protective duties nave never been able to secure a remunerative price for corn. In support for his assertion, he cites the fact that, whenever foreign corn has been imported, the price of corn in England has gone up considerably, and then when little corn has been imported, the price has fallen extremely. This prize-winner forgets that the importation was not the cause of the high price, but that the high price was the cause of the importation. And in direct contradiction to his co-prize-winner, he asserts that every rise in the price of corn is profitable to both the tenant farmer and the laborer, but not to the landlord. The third prize-winner, Mr. Greg, who is a big manufacturer and whose work is addressed to the large tenant farmers, could not hold with such stupidities. His language is more scientific. He admits that the Corn Laws can raise rent only by raising the price of corn, and that they can raise the price of corn only by compelling capital to apply itself to land of inferior quality, and this is explained quite simply. In proportion as population increases, if foreign corn cannot be imported, less fertile soil has to be used, the cultivation of which involves more expense and the product of this soil is consequently dearer. There being a forced sale for corn, the price will of necessity be determined by the price of the product of the most costly soil. The difference between this price and the cost of production upon soil of better quality constitutes the rent.

If, therefore, as a result of the repeal of the Corn Laws, the price of corn, and consequently the rent, falls, it is because inferior soil will no longer be cultivated. Thus, the reduction of rent must inevitably ruin a part of the tenant farmers. These remarks were necessary in order to make Mr. Greg's language comprehensible. "The small farmers," he says, "who cannot support themselves by agriculture will find a resource in industry. As to the large tenant farmers, they cannot fail to profit. Either the landlords will be obliged to sell them land very cheap, or leases will be made out for very long periods. This will enable tenant farmers to apply large sums of capital to the land, to use agricultural machinery on a larger scale, and to save manual labor, which will, moreover, be cheaper, on account of the general fall in wages, the immediate consequences of the repeal of the Corn Laws." Dr. Browning conferred upon all these arguments the consecration of religion, by exclaiming at a public meeting, "Jesus Christ is Free Trade, and Free Trade is Jesus Christ." One can understand that all this hypocrisy was not calculated to make cheap bread attractive to the workers. Besides, how could the workingman understand the sudden philanthropy of the manufacturers, the very men still busy fighting against the Ten Hours' Bill, which was to reduce the working day of the mill hands from 12 hours to 10? To give you an idea of the philanthropy of these manufacturers I would remind you, gentlemen, of the factory regulations in force in all the mills. Every manufacturer has for his own private use a regular penal code in which fines are laid down for every voluntary or involuntary offence. For instance, the worker pays so much if he has the misfortune to sit down on a chair; if he whispers, or speaks, or laughs; if he arrives a few moments too late; if any part of the machine breaks, or he does not turn out work of the quality desired, etc., etc. The fines are always greater than the damage really done by the worker. And to give the worker every opportunity for incurring fines, the factory clock is set forward, and he is given bad raw material to make into good pieces of stuff. An overseer not sufficiently skillful in multiplying cases of infractions or rules is discharged. You see, gentlemen, this private legislation is enacted for the especial purpose of creating such infractions, and infractions are manufactured for the purpose of making money. Thus the manufacturer uses every means of reducing the nominal wage, and of profiting even by accidents over which the worker has no control. These manufacturers are the same philanthropists who have tried to make the workers believe that they were capable of going to immense expense for the sole purpose of ameliorating their lot. Thus, on the one hand, they nibble at the wages of the worker in the pettiest way, by means of factory

regulations, and, on the other, they are undertaking the greatest sacrifices to raise those wages again by means of the Anti-Corn Law League. They build great palaces at immense expense, in which the League takes up, in some respects, its official residence; they send an army of missionaries to all corners of England to preach the gospel of free trade; they have printed and distributed gratis thousands of pamphlets to enlighten the worker upon his own interests, they spend enormous sums to make the press favorable to their cause; they organize a vast administrative system for the conduct of the free trade movement, and they display all their wealth of eloquence at public meetings. It was at one of these meetings that a worker cried out: "If the landlords were to sell our bones, you manufacturers would be the first to buy them in order to put them through a steam-mill and make flour of them." The English workers have very well understood the significance of the struggle between the landlords and the industrial capitalists. They know very well that the price of bread was to be reduced in order to reduce wages, and that industrial profit would rise by as much as rent fell. Ricardo, the apostle of the English free-traders, the most eminent economist of our century, entirely agrees with the workers upon this point. In his celebrated work on political economy, he says: "If instead of growing our own corn... we discover a new market from which we can supply ourselves... at a cheaper price, wages will fall and profits rise. The fall in the price of agricultural produce reduces the wages, not only of the laborer employed in cultivating the soil, but also of all those employed in commerce or manufacture." [David Ricardo, Des principes de l'economie politique et de l'impot. Traduit de l'anglais par F. S. Constancio, avec des notes explicatives et critiques par J.-B.- Say. T. I., Paris 1835, p.178-79] And do not believe, gentlemen, that is is a matter of indifference to the worker whether he receives only four francs on account of corn being cheaper, when he had been receiving five francs before. Have not his wages always fallen in comparison with profit, and is it not clear that his social position has grown worse as compared with that of the capitalist? Besides which he loses more as a matter of fact. So long as the price of corn was higher and wages were also higher, a small saving in the consumption of bread sufficed to procure him other enjoyments. But as soon as bread is very cheap, and wages are therefore very cheap, he can save almost nothing on bread for the purchase of other articles. The English workers have made the English free-traders realize that they are not the dupes of their illusions or of their lies; and if, in spite of this, the workers made common cause with them against the landlords, it was for the purpose of destroying the last remnants of feudalism and in order to have only one enemy left to deal with. The workers have not miscalculated, for the landlords, in order to revenge themselves upon the manufacturers, made common cause with the workers to carry the Ten Hours' Bill,

which the latter had been vainly demanding for 30 years, and which was passed immediately after the repeal of the Corn Laws. When Dr. Bowring, at the Congress of Economists [September 16-18, 1848; the following, among others, were present: Dr. Bowring, M.P., Colonel Thompson, Mr. Ewart, Mr. Brown, and James Wilson, editor of theEconomist], drew from his pocket a long list to show how many head of cattle, how much ham, bacon, poultry, etc., was imported into England, to be consumed, as he asserted, by the workers, he unfortunately forgot to tell you that all the time the workers of Manchester and other factory towns were finding themselves thrown into the streets by the crisis which was beginning. As a matter of principle in political economy, the figures of a single year must never be taken as the basis for formulating general laws. One must always take the average period of from six to seven years -a period of time during which modern industry passes through the various phases of prosperity, overproduction, stagnation, crisis, and completes its inevitable cycle. Doubtless, if the price of all commodities falls -- and this is the necessary consequence of free trade -- I can buy far more for a franc than before. And the worker's france is as good as any other man's. Therefore, free trade will be very advantageous to the worker. There is only little difficulty in this, namely, that the worker, before he exchanges his franc for other commodities, has first exchanged his labor with the capitalist. If in this exchange he always received the said franc for the same labor and the price of all other commodities fell, he would always be the gainer by such a bargain. The difficult point does not lie in proving that, if the price of all commodities falls, I will get more commodities for the same money. Economists always take the price of labor at the moment of its exchange with other commodities. But they altogether ignore the moment at which labor accomplishes its own exchange with capital. When less expense is required to set in motion the machine which produces commodities, the things necessary for the maintenance of this machine, called a worker, will also cost less. If all commodities are cheaper, labor, which is a commodity too, will also fall in price, and, as we shall see later, this commodity, labor, will fall far lower in proportion than the other commodities. If the worker still pins his faith to the arguments of the economists, he will find that the franc has melted away in his pocket, and that he has only 5 sous left. Thereupon the economists will tell you: "Well, we admit that competition among the workers, which will certainly not have diminished under free trade, will very soon bring wages into harm,only with the low price of commodities. But, on the other hand, the low price of commodities will increase consumption, the larger consumption will require increased production, which will be followed by a larger demand for hands, and this larger demand for hands will be followed by a rise in wages."

The whole line of argument amounts to this: Free trade increases productive forces. If industry keeps growing, if wealth, if the productive power, if, in a word, productive capital increases, the demand for labor,the price of labor, and consequently the rate of wages, rise also. The most favorable condition for the worker is the growth of capital. This must be admitted. If capital remains stationary, industry will not merely remain stationary but will decline, and in this case the worker will be the first victim. He goes to the wall before the capitalist. And in the case where capital keeps growing, in the circumstance which we have said are the best for the worker, what will be his lot? He will go to the wall just the same. The growth of productive capital implies the accumulation and the concentration of capital. The centralization of capital involves a greater division of labor and a greater use of machinery. The greater division of labor destroys the especial skill of the laborer; and by putting in the place of this skilled work labor which anybody can perform, it increase competition among the workers. This competition becomes fiercer as the division of labor enables a single worker to do the work of three. Machinery accomplishes the same result on a much larger scale. The growth of productive capital, which forces the industrial capitalists to work with constantly increasing means, ruins the small industrialist and throws them into the proletariat. Then, the rate of interest falling in proportion as capital accumulates, the small rentiers, who can no longer live on their dividends, are forced to go into industry and thus swell the number of proletarians. Finally, the more productive capital increases, the more it is compelled to produce for a market whose requirements it does not know, the more production precedes consumption, the more supply tries to force demand, and consumption crises increase in frequency and in intensity. But every crisis in turn hastens the centralization of capital and adds to the proletariat. Thus, as productive capital grows, competition among the workers grows in a far greater proportion. The reward of labor diminishes for all, and the burden of labor increases for some. In 1829, there were in Manchester 1,088 cotton spinners employed in 36 factories. In 1841, there were no more than 448, and they tended 53,353 more spindles than the 1,088 spinners did in 1829. In manual labor had increased in the same proportion as the productive power, the number of spinners ought to have reaches the figure of 1,848; improved machinery had, therefore, deprived 1,100 workers of employment. We know beforehand the reply of the economists. The men thus deprived of work, they say, will find other kinds of employment. Dr. Bowring did not fail to reproduce this argument at the Congress of Economists, but neither did he fail to supply his own refutation. In 1835, Dr. Bowring made a speech in the House of Commons upon the 50,000 hand-loom weavers of London who for a very long time had been starving without being able to find that new kind of employment which the free-traders hold out to them in the distance. We will give the most striking passages of this speech of Dr. Bowring:

"This distress of the weavers... is an incredible condition of a species of labor easily learned -- and constantly intruded on and superseded by cheaper means of production. A very short cessation of demand, where the competition for work is so great... produces a crisis. The hand-loom weavers are on the verge of that state beyond which human existence can hardly be sustained, and a very trifling check hurls them into the regions of starvation.... The improvements of machinery, ...by superseding manual labor more and more, infallibly bring with them in the transition much of temporary suffering.... The national good cannot be purchased but at the expense of some individual evil. No advance was ever made in manufactures but at some cost to those who are in the rear; and of all discoveries, the powerloom is that which most directly bears on the condition of the hand-loom weaver. He is already beaten out of the field in many articles; he will infallibly be compelled to surrender many more." Further on he says: "I hold in my hand the correspondence which has taken place between the Governor-General of India and the East-India Company, on the subject of the Dacca hand-loom weavers.... Some years ago the East-India Company annually received of the produce of the looms of India to the amount of from 6,000,000 to 8,000,000 of pieces of cotton goods. The demand gradually fell to somewhat more than 1,000,000, and has now nearly ceased altogether. In 1800, the United States took from India nearly 800,000 pieces of cotton; in 1830, not 4,000. In 1800, 1,000,000 pieces were shipped to Portugal; in 1830, only 20,000. Terrible were the accounts of the wretchedness of the poor Indian weavers, reduced to absolute starvation. And what was the sole cause? The presence of the cheaper English manufacture.... Numbers of them dies of hunger, the remainder were, for the most part, transferred to other occupations, principally agricultural. Not to have changed their trade was inevitable starvation. And at this moment that Dacca district is supplied with yarn and cotton cloth from the power-looms of England.... The Dacca muslins, celebrated over the whole world for their beauty and fineness, are also annihilated from the same cause. And the present suffering, to numerous classes in India, is scarcely to be paralleled in the history of commerce." [ Speech in the House of Commons, July 28, 1835. (Hansard, Vol.XXIX, London 1835, pp.1168-70) ] Dr. Bowring's speech is the more remarkable because the facts quoted by him are exact, and the phrases with which he seeks to palliate them are wholly characterized by the hypocrisy common to all free trade sermons. He represents the workers as means of production which must be superseded by less expensive means of production. He pretends to see in the labor of which he speaks a wholly exceptional kind of labor, and in the machine which has crushed out the weavers an equally exceptional machine. He forgets that there is no kind of manual labor which may not any day be subjected to the fate of the hand-loom weavers. "It is, in fact, the constant aim and tendency of every improvement in machine to supersede human labor altogether, or to diminish its cost by substituting the industry of women and children for that of men; or that of ordinary laborers for trained artisans. In most of the water-twist, or throstle cottonmills, the spinning is entirely managed by females of 16 years and upwards. The effect of substituting

the self-acting mule for the common mule, is to discharge the greater part of the men spinners, and to retain adolescents and children." [Dr. Andrew Ure, The Philosophy of Manufactures London 1835. Book I, Chap.I, p.23] These words of the most enthusiastic free-trader, Dr. Ure, serve to complement the confessions of Dr. Bowring. Dr. Bowring speaks of certain individual evils, and, at the same time, says that these individual evils destroy whole classes; he speaks of the temporary sufferings during the transition period, and at the very time of speaking of them, he does not deny that these temporary evils have implied for the majority the transition from life to death, and for the rest a transition from a better to a worse condition. If he asserts, farther on, that the sufferings of these workers are inseparable from the progress of industry, and are necessary to the prosperity of the nation, he simply says that the prosperity of the bourgeois class presupposed as necessary the suffering of the laboring class. All the consolation which Dr. Bowring offers the workers who perish, and, indeed, the whole doctrine of compensation which the free-traders propound, amounts to this: You thousands of workers who are perishing, do not despair! You can die with an easy conscience. Your class will not perish. It will always be numerous enough for the capitalist class to decimate it without fear of annihilating it. Besides, how could capital be usefully applied if it did not take care always to keep up its exploitable material, i.e., the workers, to exploit them over and over again? But, besides, why propound as a problem still to be solved the question: What influence will the adoption of free trade have upon the condition of the working class? All the laws formulated by the political economists from Quesnay to Ricardo have been based upon the hypothesis that the trammels which still interfere with commercial freedom have disappeared. These laws are confirmed in proportion as free trade is adopted. The first of these laws is that competition reduces the price of every commodity to the minimum cost of production. Thus the minimum of wages is the natural price of labor. And what is the minimum of wages? Just so much as is required for production of the articles indispensable for the maintenance of the worker, for putting him in a position to sustain himself, however badly, and to propagate his race, however slightly. But do not imagine that the worker receives only this minimum wage, and still less that he always receives it. No, according to this law, the working class will sometimes be more fortunate. It will sometimes receive something above the minimum, but this surplus will merely make up for the deficit which it will have received below the minimum in times of industrial stagnation. That is to say that, within a given time which recurs periodically, in the cycle which industry passes through while undergoing the vicissitudes of prosperity, overproduction, stagnation and crisis, when reckoning all that the working class will have had above and below necessaries, we shall see that, in all, it will have received neither more nor less than the minimum; i.e., the working class will have maintained itself as a class after enduring any

amount of misery and misfortune, and after leaving many corpses upon the industrial battlefield. But what of that? The class will still exist; nay, more, it will have increased. But this is not all. The progress of industry creates less expensive means of subsistence. Thus spirits have taken the place of beer, cotton that of wool and linen, and potatoes that of bread. Thus, as means are constantly being found for the maintenance of labor on cheaper and more wretched food, the minimum of wages is constantly sinking. If these wages began by making the man work to live, they end by making him live the life of a machine. His existence has not other value than that of a simple productive force, and the capitalist treats him accordingly. This law of commodity labor, of the minimum of wages, will be confirmed in proportion as the supposition of the economists, free-trade, becomes an actual fact. Thus, of two things one: either we must reject all political economy based on the assumption of free trade, or we must admit that under this free trade the whole severity of the economic laws will fall upon the workers. To sum up, what is free trade, what is free trade under the present condition of society? It is freedom of capital. When you have overthrown the few national barriers which still restrict the progress of capital, you will merely have given it complete freedom of action. So long as you let the relation of wage labor to capital exist, it does not matter how favorable the conditions under which the exchange of commodities takes place, there will always be a class which will exploit and a class which will be exploited. It is really difficult to understand the claim of the free-traders who imagine that the more advantageous application of capital will abolish the antagonism between industrial capitalists and wage workers. On the contrary, the only result will be that the antagonism of these two classes will stand out still more clearly. Let us assume for a moment that there are no more Corn Laws or national or local custom duties; in fact that all the accidental circumstances which today the worker may take to be the cause of his miserable condition have entirely vanished, and you will have removed so many curtains that hide from his eyes his true enemy. He will see that capital become free will make him no less a slave than capital trammeled by customs duties. Gentlemen! Do not allow yourselves to be deluded by the abstract word freedom. Whose freedom? It is not the freedom of one individual in relation to another, but the freedom of capital to crush the worker. Why should you desire to go on sanctioning free competition with this idea of freedom, when this freedom is only the product of a state of things based upon free competition? We have shown what sort of brotherhood free trade begets between the different classes of one and the same nation. The brotherhood which free trade would establish between the nations of the Earth would hardly be more fraternal. To call cosmopolitan exploitation universal brotherhood is an idea that could only be engendered in the brain of the bourgeoisie. All the destructive phenomena which unlimited competition gives rise to within one country are reproduced in more gigantic proportions on

the world market. We need not dwell any longer upon free trade sophisms on this subject, which are worth just as much as the arguments of our prize-winners Messrs. Hope, Morse, and Greg. For instance, we are told that free trade would create an international division of labor, and thereby give to each country the production which is most in harmony with its natural advantage. You believe, perhaps, gentlemen, that the production of coffee and sugar is the natural destiny of the West Indies. Two centuries ago, nature, which does not trouble herself about commerce, had planted neither sugarcane nor coffee trees there. And it may be that in less than half a century you will find there neither coffee nor sugar, for the East Indies, by means of cheaper production, have already successfully combatted his alleged natural destiny of the West Indies. And the West Indies, with their natural wealth, are already as heavy a burden for England as the weavers of Dacca, who also were destined from the beginning of time to weave by hand. One other thing must never be forgotten, namely, that, just as everything has become a monopoly, there are also nowadays some branches of industry which dominate all others, and secure to the nations which most largely cultivate them the command of the world market. Thus in international commerce cotton alone has much greater commercial than all the other raw materials used in the manufacture of clothing put together. It is truly ridiculous to see the free-traders stress the few specialities in each branch of industry,throwing them into the balance against the products used in everyday consumption and produced most cheaply in those countries in which manufacture is most highly developed. If the free-traders cannot understand how one nation can grow rich at the expense of another, we need not wonder, since these same gentlemen also refuse to understand how within one country one class can enrich itself at the expense of another. Do not imagine, gentlemen, that in criticizing freedom of trade we have the least intention of defending the system of protection. One may declare oneself an enemy of the constitutional regime without declaring oneself a friend of the ancient regime. Moreover, the protectionist system is nothing but a means of establishing large-scale industry in any given country, that is to say, of making it dependent upon the world market, and from the moment that dependence upon the world market is established, there is already more or less dependence upon free trade. Besides this, the protective system helps to develop free trade competition within a country. Hence we see that in countries where the bourgeoisie is beginning to make itself felt as a class, in Germany for example, it makes great efforts to obtain protective duties. They serve the bourgeoisie as weapons against feudalism and absolute government, as a means for the concentration of its own powers and for the realization of free trade within the same country.

But, in general, the protective system of our day is conservative, while the free trade system is destructive. It breaks up old nationalities and pushes the antagonism of the proletariat and the bourgeoisie to the extreme point. In a word, the free trade system hastens the social revolution. It is in this revolutionary sense alone, gentlemen, that I vote in favor of free trade.

Frederick Engels Afghanistan [40]

Source: MECW Volume 18, p. 40; Written: in July and the first 10 days of August 1857; First published: in The New American Cyclopaedia, Vol. I, 1858; Transcribed: Andy Blunden, 2001; Proofread: and corrected by Andy Blunden in February 2005. Review of J W Kayes The Afghan War, by Engels

Afghanistan, an extensive country of Asia, north-west of India. It lies between Persia and the Indies, and in the other direction between the Hindu Kush and the Indian Ocean. It formerly included the Persian provinces of Khorassan and Kohistan, together with Herat, Beluchistan, Cashmere, and Sinde, and a considerable part of the Punjab. In its present limits there are probably not more than 4,000,000 inhabitants. The surface of Afghanistan is very irregular, lofty table lands, vast mountains, deep valleys, and ravines. Like all mountainous tropical countries it presents every variety of climate. In the Hindu Kush, the snow lies all the year on the lofty summits, while in the valleys the thermometer ranges up to 130. The heat is greater in the eastern than in the western parts, but the climate is generally cooler than that of India; and although the alternations of temperature between summer and winter, or day and night, are very great, the country is generally healthy. The principal diseases are fevers, catarrhs, and ophthalmia. Occasionally the small-pox is destructive. The soil is of exuberant fertility. Date palms flourish in the oases of the sandy wastes; the sugar cane and cotton in the warm valleys; and European fruits and vegetables grow luxuriantly on the hill-side terraces up to a level of 6,000 or 7,000 feet. The mountains are clothed with noble forests, which are frequented by bears, wolves, and foxes, while the lion, the leopard, and the tiger, are found in districts congenial to their habits. The animals useful to mankind are not wanting. There is a fine variety of sheep of the Persian or large-tailed breed. The horses are of good size and blood. The camel and ass are used as beasts of burden, and goats, dogs, and cats, are to be found in great numbers. Beside the Hindu Kush, which is a continuation of the Himalayas, there is a mountain chain called the Solyman mountain, on the south-west; and between Afghanistan and Balkh, there is a chain known as the Paropamisan range, very little information concerning which has, however, reached Europe. The rivers are few in number; the Helmund and the Kabul are the most important. These take their rise in the Hindu Kush, the Kabul flowing cast and falling into the Indus near Attock; the Helmund flowing west through the district of Seiestan and falling into the lake of Zurrah. The Helmund has the peculiarity of overflowing its banks annually like the Nile, bringing

fertility to the soil, which, beyond the limit of the inundation, is sandy desert. The principal cities of Afghanistan are Kabul, the capital, Ghuznee, Peshawer, and Kandahar. Kabul is a fine town, lat. 34 10' N. long. 60 43' E., on the river of the same name. The buildings are of wood, neat and commodious, and the town being surrounded with fine gardens, has a very pleasing aspect. It is environed with villages, and is in the midst of a large plain encircled with low hills. The tomb of the emperor Baber is its chief monument. Peshawer is a large city, with a population estimated at 100,000. Ghuznee, a city of ancient renown, once the capital of the great sultan Mahmoud, has fallen from its great estate and is now a poor place. Near it is Mahmouds tomb. Kandahar was founded as recently as 1754. It is on the site of an ancient city. It was for a few years the capital; but in 1774 the seat of government was removed to Kabul. It is believed to contain 100,000 inhabitants. Near the city is the tomb of Shah Ahmed, the founder of the city, an asylum so sacred that even the king may not remove a criminal who has taken refuge within its walls. The geographical position of Afghanistan, and the peculiar character of the people, invest the country with a political importance that can scarcely be overestimated in the affairs of Central Asia. The government is a monarchy, but the kings authority over his high-spirited and turbulent subjects, is personal and very uncertain. The kingdom is divided into provinces, each superintended by a representative of the sovereign, who collects the revenue and remits it to the capital. The Afghans are a brave, hardy, and independent race; they follow pastoral or agricultural occupations only, eschewing trade and commerce, which they contemptuously resign to Hindus, and to other inhabitants of towns. With them, war is an excitement and relief from the monotonous occupation of industrial pursuits. The Afghans are divided into clans[41], over which the various chiefs exercise a sort of feudal supremacy. Their indomitable hatred of rule, and their love of individual independence, alone prevents their becoming a powerful nation; but this very irregularity and uncertainty of action makes them dangerous neighbours, liable to be blown about by the wind of caprice, or to be stirred up by political intriguers, who artfully excite their passions. The two principal tribes are the Dooranees and Ghilgies, who are always at feud with each other. The Dooranee is the more powerful; and in virtue of their supremacy their ameer or khan made himself king of Afghanistan. He has a revenue of about 10,000,000. His authority is supreme only in his tribe. The military contingents are chiefly furnished by the Dooranees;

the rest of the army is supplied either by the other clans, or by military adventurers who enlist into the service in hopes of pay or plunder. Justice in the towns is administered by cadis, but the Afghans rarely resort to law. Their khans have the right of punishment even to the extent of life or death. Avenging of blood is a family duty; nevertheless, they are said to be a liberal and generous people when unprovoked, and the rights of hospitality are so sacred that a deadly enemy who eats bread and salt, obtained even by stratagem, is sacred from revenge, and may even claim the protection of his host against all other danger. In religion they are Mohammedans, and of the Soonee sect; but they are not bigoted, and alliances between Sheeahs and Soonees[42]are by no means uncommon. Afghanistan has been subjected alternately to Mogul[43] and Persian dominion. Previous to the advent of the British on the shores of India the foreign invasions which swept the plains of Hindostan always proceeded from Afghanistan. Sultan Mahmoud the Great, Genghis Khan, Tameriane, and Nadir Shah, all took this road. In 1747 after the death of Nadir, Shah Ahmed, who had learned the art of war under that military adventurer, determined to shake off the Persian yoke. Under him Afghanistan reached its highest point of greatness and prosperity in modern times. He belonged to the family of the Suddosis, and his first act was to seize upon the booty which his late chief had gathered in India. In 1748 he succeeded in expelling the Mogul governor from Kabul and Peshawer, and crossing the Indus he rapidly overran the Punjab. His kingdom extended from Khorassan to Delhi, and he even measured swords with the Mahratta powers.[44] These great enterprises did not, however, prevent him from cultivating some of the arts of peace, and he was favourably known as a poet and historian. He died in 1772, and left his crown to his son Timour, who, however, was unequal to the weighty charge. He abandoned the city of Kandahar, which had been founded by his father, and had, in a few years, become a wealthy and populous town, and removed the seat of government back to Kabul. During his reign the internal dissensions of the tribes, which had been repressed by the firm hand of Shah Ahmed, were revived. In 1793 Timour died, and Siman succeeded him. This prince conceived the idea of consolidating the Mohammedan power of India, and this plan, which might have seriously endangered the British possessions, was thought so important that Sir John Malcolm was sent to the frontier to keep the Afghans in check, in case of their making any movement, and at the same time negotiations were opened with Persia, by whose assistance the Afghans might be placed between two fires. These precautions were, however, unnecessary; Siman Shah was more than sufficiently occupied by conspiracies, and disturbances at home, and his great plans were nipped in the bud. The kings brother, Mahmud, threw himself into Herat with the design of erecting an independent principality, but failing in his attempt he fled into Persia. Siman Shah had been assisted in attaining the throne by the Bairukshee family, at the head of which was Sheir Afras Khan. Simans appointment of an unpopular vizier excited the hatred of his old supporters, who organized a conspiracy which was discovered, and Sheir Afras was put to death. Mahmud was now recalled by the conspirators, Siman was taken prisoner and his eyes put out. In opposition to Mahmud, who was supported by the Dooranees, Shah Soojah was put forward by the Ghilgies, and held the throne for some time; but he was at last defeated, chiefly through the treachery of his own supporters, and was forced to take refuge amongst the Sikhs. [45] In 1809 Napoleon had sent Gen. Gardane to Persia in the hope of inducing the shah [Fath Ali] to invade India, and the Indian government sent a representative [Mountstuart Elphinstone] to the court of Shah

Soojah to create an opposition to Persia. At this epoch, Runjeet Singh rose into power and fame. He was a Sikh chieftain, and by his genius made his country independent of the Afghans, and erected a kingdom in the Punjab, earning for himself the title of Maharajah (chief rajah), and the respect of the AngloIndian government. The usurper Mahmud was, however, not destined to enjoy his triumph long. Futteh Khan, his vizier, who had alternately fluctuated between Mahmud and Shah Soojah, as ambition or temporary interest prompted, was seized by the kings son Kamran, his eyes put out, and afterward cruelly put to death. The powerful family of the murdered vizier swore to avenge his death. The puppet Shah Soojah was again brought forward and Mahmud expelled. Shah Soojah having given offence, however, was presently deposed, and another brother crowned in his stead. Mahmud fled to Herat, of which he continued in possession, and in 1829 on his death his son Kamran succeeded him in the government of that district. The Bairukshee family, having now attained chief power, divided the territory among themselves, but following the national usage quarrelled, and were only united in presence of a common enemy. One of the brothers, Mohammed Khan, held the city of Peshawer, for which he paid tribute to Runjeet Singh; another held Ghuznee; a third Kandahar; while in Kabul, Dost Mohammed, the most powerful of the family, held sway. To this prince, Capt. Alexander Burnes was sent as ambassador in 1835, when Russia and England were intriguing against each other in Persia and Central Asia. He offered an alliance which the Dost was but too eager to accept; but the Anglo-Indian government demanded every thing from him, while it offered absolutely nothing in return. In the mean time, in 1838, the Persians, with Russian aid and advice, laid siege to Herat, the key of Afghanistan and India[46]; a Persian and a Russian agent arrived at Kabul, and the Dost, by the constant refusal of any positive engagement on the part of the British, was, at last, actually compelled to receive overtures from the other parties. Burnes left, and Lord Auckland, then governor-general of India, influenced by his secretary W. McNaghten, determined to punish Dost Mohammed, for what he himself had compelled him to do. He resolved to dethrone him, and to set up Shah Soojah, now a pensioner of the Indian government. A treaty was concluded with Shah Soojah, and with the Sikhs; the shah began collecting an army, paid and officered by the British, and an Anglo-Indian force was concentrated on the Sutlej. McNaghten, seconded by Burnes, was to accompany the expedition in the quality of envoy in Afghanistan. In the mean time the Persians had raised the siege of Herat, and thus the only valid reason for interference in Afghanistan was removed, but, nevertheless, in December 1838, the army marched toward Sinde, which country was coerced into submission, and the payment of a contribution for the benefit of the Sikhs and Shah Soojah.[47] Feb. 20, 1839, the British army passed the Indus. It consisted of about 12,000 men, with above 40,000 camp-followers, beside the new levies of the shah. The Bolan Pass was traversed in March; want of provisions and forage began to be felt; the camels dropped by hundreds, and a great part of the baggage was lost. April 7, the army entered the Khojak Pass, traversed it without resistance, and on April 25 entered Kandahar, which the Afghan princes, brothers of Dost Mohammed, had abandoned. After a rest of two months, Sir John Keane, the commander, advanced with the main body of the army toward the north, leaving a brigade, under Nott, in Kandahar. Ghuznee, the impregnable stronghold of Afghanistan, was taken, July 22, a deserter having brought information that the Kabul gate was the only one which had not been walled up; it was accordingly blown down, and the place was then stormed. After this disaster, the army which Dost Mohammed had collected, at once disbanded, and Kabul too opened its gates, Aug. 6. Shah Soojah

was installed in due form, but the real direction of government remained in the hands of McNaghten, who also paid all Shah Soojahs expenses out of the Indian treasury. The conquest of Afghanistan seemed accomplished, and a considerable portion of the troops was sent back. But the Afghans were noways content to be ruled by the Feringhee Kaffirs (European infidels), and during the whole of 1840 and 41, insurrection followed on insurrection in every part of the country. The Anglo-Indian troops had to be constantly on the move. Yet, McNaghten declared this to be the normal state of Afghan society, and wrote home that every thing went on well, and Shah Soojahs power was taking root. In vain were the warnings of the military officers and the other political agents. Dost Mohammed had surrendered to the British in October, 1840, and was sent to India; every insurrection during the summer of 41 was successfully repressed, and toward October, McNaghten, nominated governor of Bombay, intended leaving with another body of troops for India. But then the storm broke out. The occupation of Afghanistan cost the Indian treasury 1,250,000 per annum: 16,000 troops, Anglo-Indian, and Shah Soojahs, had to be paid in Afghanistan; 3,000 more lay in Sinde, and the Bolan Pass; Shah Soojahs regal splendours, the salaries of his functionaries, and all expenses of his court and government, were paid by the Indian treasury, and finally, the Afghan chiefs were subsidized, or rather bribed, from the same source, in order to keep them out of mischief. McNaghten was informed of the impossibility of going on at this rate of spending money. He attempted retrenchment, but the only possible way to enforce it was to cut down the allowances of the chiefs. The very day he attempted this, the chiefs formed a conspiracy for the extermination of the British, and thus McNaghten himself was the means of bringing about the concentration of those insurrectionary forces, which hitherto had struggled against the invaders singly, and without unity or concert; though it is certain, too, that by this time the hatred of British dominion among the Afghans had reached the highest point. The English in Kabul were commanded by Gen. Elphinstone, a gouty, irresolute, completely helpless old man, whose orders constantly contradicted each other. The troops occupied a sort of fortified camp, which was so extensive that the garrison was scarcely sufficient to man the ramparts, much less to detach bodies to act in the field. The works were so imperfect that ditch and parapet could be ridden over on horseback. As if this was not enough, the camp was commanded almost within musket range by the neighbouring heights, and to crown the absurdity of the arrangements, all provisions, and medical stores, were in two detached forts at some distance from camp, separated from it, moreover, by walled gardens and another small fort not occupied by the English. The citadel or Bala Hissar of Kabul would have offered strong and splendid winter quarters for the whole army, but to please Shah Soojah, it was not occupied. Nov. 2, 1841, the insurrection broke out. The house of Alexander Burnes, in the city, was attacked and he himself murdered. The British general did nothing, and the insurrection grew strong by impunity. Elphinstone, utterly helpless, at the mercy of all sorts of contradictory advice, very soon got every thing into that confusion which Napoleon [Bonaparte] described by the three words, ordre, contre-ordre, disordre . The Bala Hissar was, even now, not occupied. A few companies were sent against the thousands of insurgents, and of course were beaten. This still more emboldened the Afghans. Nov. 3, the forts close to the camp were occupied. On the 9th, the commissariat fort (garrisoned by only 80 men) was taken by the Afghans, and the British were thus reduced to starvation. On the 5th, Elphinstone already talked of buying a free passage out of the country. In fact, by the middle

of November, his irresolution and incapacity had so demoralised the troops that neither Europeans nor Sepoys[48] were any longer fit to meet the Afghans in the open field. Then the negotiations began. During these, McNaghten was murdered in a conference with Afghan chiefs. Snow began to cover the ground, provisions were scarce. At last, Jan. 1, a capitulation was concluded. All the money, 190,000, was to be handed over to the Afghans, and bills signed for 140,000 more. All the artillery and ammunition, except 6 six-pounders and 3 mountain guns, were to remain. All Afghanistan was to be evacuated. The chiefs, on the other hand, promised a safe conduct, provisions, and baggage cattle. Jan. 5, the British marched out, 4,500 combatants and 12,000 camp-followers. One march sufficed to dissolve the last remnant of order, and to mix up soldiers and camp-followers in one hopeless confusion, rendering all resistance impossible. The cold and snow and the want of provisions acted as in Napoleons retreat from Moscow [in 1812]. But instead of Cossacks keeping a respectful distance, the British were harassed by infuriated Afghan marksmen, armed with long-range matchlocks, occupying every height. The chiefs who signed the capitulation neither could nor would restrain the mountain tribes. The Koord-Kabul Pass became the grave of nearly all the army, and the small remnant, less than 200 Europeans, fell at the entrance of the Jugduluk Pass. Only one man, Dr. Brydon, reached Jelalabad to tell the tale. Many officers, however, had been seized by the Afghans, and kept in captivity, Jelalabad was held by Sales brigade. Capitulation was demanded of him, but he refused to evacuate the town, so did Nott at Kandahar. Ghuznee had fallen; there was not a single man in the place that understood any thing about artillery, and the Sepoys of the garrison had succumbed to the climate. In the mean time, the British authorities on the frontier at the first news of the disaster of Kabul, had concentrated at Peshawer the troops destined for the relief of the regiments in Afghanistan. But transportation was wanting and the Sepoys fell sick in great numbers. Gen. Pollock, in February, took the command, and by the end of March, 1842, received further reinforcements. He then forced the Khyber Pass, and advanced to the relief of Sale at Jelalabad; here Sale had a few days before completely defeated the investing Afghan army. Lord Ellenborough, now governor-general of India, ordered the troops to fall back; but both Nott and Pollock found a welcome excuse in the want of transportation. At last, by the beginning of July, public opinion in India forced Lord Ellenborough to do something for the recovery of the national honour and the prestige of the British army; accordingly, he authorised an advance on Kabul, both from Kandahar and Jelalabad. By the middle of August, Pollock and Nott had come to an understanding respecting their movements, and Aug. 20, Pollock moved towards Kabul, reached Gundamuck, and beat a body of Afghans on the 23rd, carried the Jugduluk Pass Sept. 8, defeated the assembled strength of the enemy on the 13th at Tezeen, and encamped on the 15th under the walls of Kabul. Nott, in the mean time, had, Aug. 7, evacuated Kandahar, and marched with all his forces toward Ghuznee. After some minor engagements, he defeated a large body of Afghans, Aug. 30, took possession of Ghuznee, which had been abandoned by the enemy, Sept. 6, destroyed the works and town, again defeated the Afghans in the strong position of Alydan, and, Sept. 17, arrived near Kabul, where Pollock at once established his communication with him. Shah Soojah had, long before, been murdered by some of the chiefs, and since then no regular government had existed in Afghanistan; nominally, Futteh Jung, his son, was king. Pollock despatched a body of cavalry after the Kabul prisoners, but these had succeeded in bribing their guard, and met him on the road. As a mark of vengeance, the

bazaar of Kabul was destroyed, on which occasion the soldiers plundered part of the town and massacred many inhabitants. Oct. 12, the British left Kabul and marched by Jelalabad and Peshawer to India. Futteh Jung, despairing of his position, followed them. Dost Mohammed was now dismissed from captivity, and returned to his kingdom. Thus ended the attempt of the British to set up a prince of their own making in Afghanistan. Footnotes 40. That Engels wanted to write an article on Afghanistan (with emphasis on the Anglo-Afghan war of 1838-42) is evident from the fact that he included this topic in the provisional list of articles for The New American Cyclopaedia in his letter to Marx of May 28, 1857. On July 11, 1857, however, Engels informed Marx that the article would not be ready by July 14, as agreed. The work on it apparently took longer than expected. Marx had received it by August 11 and, as can be seen from the entry in his notebook for this date, sent it off to New York, In a letter to Marx of September 2, 1857 Charles Dana acknowledged receipt of Invasion of Afghanistan. When working on this article Engels used J. W. Kayes History of the War in Afghanistan Vols. I-II, London, 1851 (see this volume, pp. 379-90). 41. Engels uses the term clan, widespread in Western Europe, to designate heli (tribal groups) into which Afghan tribes were divided. 42. Soonees (Sunnites) and Sheeahs (Shiites) members of the two main Mohammedan sects which appeared in the seventh century as the result of conflicts between the successors of Mohammed, founder of Islam. 43. The Moguls invaders of Turkish descent, who came to India from the cast of Central Asia in the early sixteenth century and in 1526 founded the Empire of the Great Moguls (named after the ruling dynasty of the Empire) in Northern India. Contemporaries regarded them as the direct descendants of the Mongol warriors of Genghis Khan, hence the name Moguls. In the mid-seventeenth century the Mogul Empire included most of India and part of Afghanistan. Later on, however, the Empire began to decline due to peasant rebellions, the growing resistance of the Indian people to the Mohammedan conquerors, and increasing separatist tendencies. In the early half of the eighteenth century the Empire of the Great Moguls virtually ceased to exist. 44. The Mahrattas (Marathas) an ethnic group who lived in Northwestern Deccan. In the midseventeenth century they began an armed struggle against the Empire of the Great Moguls, thus contributing to its decline. In the course of the struggle the Mahrattas formed an independent state of their own, whose rulers soon embarked on wars of conquest. At the close of the seventeenth century their state was weakened by internal feudal strife, but early in the eighteenth century a powerful confederation of Mahratta principalities was formed under a supreme governor, the Peshwa. In 1761 they suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the Afghans in the struggle for supremacy in India. Weakened by this struggle and internal feudal strife, the Mabratta principalities fell a prey to the East India Company and were subjugated by it as a result of the Anglo-Mahratta war of 1803-05.

45. The Sikhs a religious sect which appeared in the Punjab (Northwestern India) in the sixteenth century. Their belief in equality became the ideology of the peasants and lower urban strata in their struggle against the Empire of the Great Moguls and the Afghan invaders at the end of the seventeenth century. Subsequently a local aristocracy emerged among the Sikhs and its representatives headed the Sikh principalities. In the early nineteenth century these principalities united under Ranjit Singh whose Sikh state included the Punjab and some neighbouring regions. The British authorities in India provoked an armed conflict with the Sikhs in 1845 and in 1846 succeeded in turning the Sikh state into a vassal. The Sikhs revolted in 1848, but were subjugated in 1849. 46. The siege of Herat by the Persians lasted from November 1837 to August 1838. Intent on increasing Britains influence in Afghanistan and weakening Russias in Persia, the British Government declared the Shahs actions to be hostile to Britain and demanded that he should lift the siege. Threatening him with war, it sent a squadron into the Persian Gulf in 1838. The Shah was forced to submit and to agree to a one-sided trade treaty with Britain. Marx described the siege of Herat in his article The War against Persia. 47. During the Anglo-Afghan war the East India Company resorted to threats and violence to obtain the consent of the feudal rulers of Sind, a region in the northwest of India (now in Pakistan) bordering on Afghanistan, to the passage of British troops across their territory. Taking advantage of this, the British demanded in 1843 that the local feudal princes proclaim themselves vassals of the Company. After crushing the rebel Baluchi tribes (natives of Sind), they declared the annexation of the entire region to British India. 48. Sepoys mercenary troops in the British-Indian army recruited from the Indian population and serving under British officers. They were used by the British to subjugate India and to fight the wars of conquest against Afghanistan, Burma and other neighbouring states. However, the Sepoys shared the general discontent of the Indian people with the colonial regime and took part in the national liberation insurrection in India in 1857-59.

Karl Marx: Critique of Political Economy Review by Frederick Engels Karl Marx, A Contribution to the Critique of Political economy

First Published: Das Volk, Nos. 14 & 16, August 6 & 20, 1859; Written: between August 3 and 15, 1859.

I The Germans have long since shown that in all spheres of science they are equal, and in most of them superior, to other civilised nations. Only one branch of science, political economy, had no German name among its foremost scholars. The reason is obvious. Political economy is the theoretical analysis of modern bourgeois society and therefore presupposes developed bourgeois conditions, conditions which for centuries, following the wars in the wake of the Reformation and the peasant wars and especially the Thirty Years War, could not establish themselves in Germany. The separation of the Netherlands from the Empire removed Germany from the international trade routes and restricted her industrial development from the very beginning to the pettiest scale. While the Germans painfully and slowly recovered from the devastations of the civil wars, while they used up their store of civic energy, which had never been very large, in futile struggle against the customs barriers and absurd commercial regulations which every petty princeling and imperial baron inflicted upon the industry of his subjects, while the imperial cities with their craft-guild practices and patrician spirit went to ruin Holland, England and France meanwhile conquered the leading positions in international trade, established one colony after another and brought manufactory production to the height of its development, until finally England, with the aid of steam power, which made her coal and iron deposits valuable, headed modern bourgeois development. But political economy could not arise in Germany so long as a struggle had still to be waged against so preposterously antiquated remnants of the Middle Ages as those which hampered the bourgeois development of her material forces until 1830. Only the establishment of the Customs Union enabled the Germans to comprehend political economy at all. It was indeed at this time that English and French economic works began to be imported for the benefit of the German middle class. Men of learning and bureaucrats soon got hold of the imported material and treated it in a way which does little credit to the German intellect. The literary efforts of a hotchpotch of chevaliers dindustrie, traders, schoolmasters and bureaucrats produced a bunch of German economic publications which as regards triteness, banality, frivolity, verbosity and plagiarism are equalled only by the German novel. Among people pursuing practical objectives there arose first the protectionist school of the industrialists, whose chief spokesman, List, is still the best that German bourgeois political economy has produced although his celebrated work is entirely copied from the Frenchman Ferrier, the theoretical

creator of the Continental System. In opposition to this trend the free-trade school was formed in the forties by merchants from the Baltic provinces, who fumblingly repeated the arguments of the English Free Traders with childlike, but not disinterested, faith. Finally, among the schoolmasters and bureaucrats who had to handle the theoretical aspects there were uncritical and desiccated collectors of herbaria, like Herr Rau, pseudo-clever speculators who translated foreign propositions into undigested Hegelian language like Herr Stein, or gleaners with literary pretensions in the field of so-called history of civilisation, like Herr Riehl. The upshot of all this was cameralistics, an eclectic economic sauce covering a hotchpotch of sundry trivialities, of the sort a junior civil servant might find useful to remember during his final examination. While in this way in Germany the bourgeoisie, the schoolmasters and the bureaucrats were still making great exertions to learn by rote, and in some measure to understand, the first elements of Anglo-French political economy, which they regarded as incontestable dogmas, the German proletarian party appeared on the scene. Its theoretical aspect was wholly based on a study of political economy, and German political economy as an independent science dates also from the emergence of this party. The essential foundation of this German political economy is the materialist conception of history whose principal features are briefly outlined in the Preface to the above-named work. Since the Preface has in the main already been published in Das Volk, we refer to it. The proposition that the process of social, political and intellectual life is altogether necessitated by the mode of production of material life"; that all social and political relations, all religious and legal systems, all theoretical conceptions which arise in the course of history can only be understood if the material conditions of life obtaining during the relevant epoch have been understood and the former are traced back to these material conditions, was a revolutionary discovery not only for economics but also for all historical sciences and all branches of science which are not natural sciences are historical. It is not the consciousness of men that determines their existence, but their social existence that determines their consciousness. This proposition is so simple that it should be self-evident to anyone not bogged down in idealist humbug. But it leads to highly revolutionary consequences not only in the theoretical sphere but also in the practical sphere. At a certain stage of development, the material productive forces of society come into conflict with the existing relations of production or this merely expresses the same thing in legal terms with the property relations within the framework of which they have operated hitherto. From forms of development of the productive forces these relations turn into their fetters. Then begins an era of social revolution. The changes in the economic foundation lead sooner or later to the transformation of the whole immense superstructure.... The bourgeois mode of production is the last antagonistic form of the social process of production antagonistic not in the sense of individual antagonism but of an antagonism that emanates from the individuals social conditions of existence but the productive forces developing within bourgeois society create also the material conditions for a solution of this antagonism. The prospect of a gigantic revolution, the most gigantic revolution that has ever taken place, accordingly presents itself to us as soon as we pursue our materialist thesis further and apply it to the present time. Closer consideration shows immediately that already the first consequences of the apparently simple proposition, that the consciousness of men is determined by their existence and not the other way

round, spurn all forms of idealism, even the most concealed ones, rejecting all conventional and customary views of historical matters. The entire traditional manner of political reasoning is upset; patriotic magnanimity indignantly objects to such an unprincipled interpretation. It was thus inevitable that the new point of view should shock not only the exponents of the bourgeoisie but also the mass of French socialists who intended to revolutionise the world by virtue of the magic words, libert, galit, fraternite. But it utterly enraged the vociferous German vulgar democrats. They nevertheless have a partiality for attempting to plagiarise the new ideas in their own interest, although with an exceptional lack of understanding. The demonstration of the materialist conception even upon a single historical example was a scientific task requiring years of quiet research, for it is evident that mere empty talk can achieve nothing in this context and that only an abundance of critically examined historical material which has been completely mastered can make it possible to solve such a problem. Our party was propelled on to the political stage by the February Revolution and thus prevented from pursuing purely scientific aims. The fundamental conception, nevertheless, runs like an unbroken thread through all literary productions of the party. Every one of them shows that the actions in each particular case were invariably initiated by material causes and not by the accompanying phrases, that on the contrary the political and legal phrases, like the political actions and their results, originated in material causes. After the defeat of the Revolution of 1848-49, at a time when it became increasingly impossible to exert any influence on Germany from abroad, our party relinquished the field of emigrant squabbles for that was the only feasible action left to the vulgar democrats. While these were chasing about to their hearts content, scuffling today, fraternising tomorrow and the day after once more washing their dirty linen in public, while they went begging throughout America and immediately afterwards started another row over the division of the few coins they had collected our party was glad to find once more some quiet time for research work. It had the great advantage that its theoretical foundation was a new scientific conception the elaboration of which provided adequate work; even for this reason alone it could never become so demoralised as the great men of the emigration. The book under consideration is the first result of these studies. II [Das Volk, No. 16, August 20,1859] The purpose of a work like the one under review cannot simply be desultory criticism of separate sections of political economy or the discussion of one or another economic issue in isolation. On the contrary, it is from the beginning designed to give a systematic rsum of the whole complex of political economy and a coherent elaboration of the laws governing bourgeois production and bourgeois exchange. This elaboration is at the same time a comprehensive critique of economic literature, for economists are nothing but interpreters of and apologists for these laws. Hardly any attempt has been made since Hegels death to set forth any branch of science in its specific inner coherence. The official Hegelian school had assimilated only the most simple devices of the

masters dialectics and applied them to everything and anything, often moreover with ridiculous incompetence. Hegels whole heritage was, so far as they were concerned, confined exclusively to a template, by means of which any subject could be knocked into shape, and a set of words and phrases whose only remaining purpose was to turn up conveniently whenever they experienced a lack of ideas and of concrete knowledge. Thus it happened, as a professor at Bonn has said, that these Hegelians knew nothing but could write about everything. The results were, of course, accordingly. For all their conceit these gentlemen were, however, sufficiently conscious of their failings to avoid major problems as far as possible. The superannuated fossilised type of learning held its ground because of its superior factual knowledge, and after Feuerbachs renunciation of the speculative method, Hegelianism gradually died away, and it seemed that science was once more dominated by antiquated metaphysics with its rigid categories. For this there were quite natural reasons. The rule of the Hegelian Diadochi, which ended in empty phrases, was naturally followed by a period in which the concrete content of science predominated once more over the formal aspect. Moreover, Germany at the same time applied itself with quite extraordinary energy to the natural sciences, in accordance with the immense bourgeois development setting in after 1848; with the coming into fashion of these sciences, in which the speculative trend had never achieved any real importance, the old metaphysical mode of thinking, even down to the extreme triviality of Wolff, gained ground rapidly. Hegel was forgotten and a new materialism arose in the natural sciences; it differed in principle very little from the materialism of the eighteenth century and its main advantage was merely a greater stock of data relating to the natural sciences, especially chemistry and physiology. The narrow-minded mode of thinking of the pre-Kantian period in its most banal form is reproduced by Bchner and Vogt, and even Moleschott, who swears by Feuerbach, frequently flounders in a highly diverting manner through the most simple categories. The jaded cart-horse of the commonplace bourgeois mind falters of course in confusion in front of the ditch separating substance from appearance, and cause from effect; but one should not ride carthorses if one intends to go coursing over the very rough ground of abstract reasoning. In this context, therefore, a question had to be solved which was not connected with political economy as such. Which scientific method should be used? There was, on the one hand, the Hegelian dialectics in the quite abstract speculative form in which Hegel had left it, and on the other hand the ordinary, mainly Wolffian, metaphysical method, which had come again into vogue, and which was also employed by the bourgeois economists to write their bulky rambling volumes. The second method had been theoretically demolished by Kant and particularly by Hegel so that its continued use in practice could only be rendered possible by inertia and the absence of an alternative simple method. The Hegelian method, on the other hand, was in its existing form quite inapplicable. It was essentially idealist and the main point in this case was the elaboration of a world outlook that was more materialist than any previous one. Hegels method took as its point of departure pure thought, whereas here the starting point was to be inexorable facts. A method which, according to its own avowal, came from nothing through nothing to nothing was in this shape by no means suitable. It was, nevertheless, the only element in the entire available logical material which could at least serve as a point of origin. It had not been subjected to criticism, not been overthrown; none of the opponents of the great dialectician had

been able to make a breach in the proud edifice. It had been forgotten because the Hegelian school did not know how to apply it. Hence, it was first of all essential to carry through a thorough critique of the Hegelian method. It was the exceptional historical sense underlying Hegels manner of reasoning which distinguished it from that of all other philosophers. However abstract and idealist the form employed, yet his evolution of ideas runs always parallel with the evolution of universal history, and the latter was indeed supposed to be only the proof of the former. Although this reversed the actual relation and stood it on its head, yet the real content was invariably incorporated in his philosophy, especially since Hegel unlike his followers did not rely on ignorance, but was one of the most erudite thinkers of all time. He was the first to try to demonstrate that there is an evolution, an intrinsic coherence in history, and however strange some things in his philosophy of history may seem to us now, the grandeur of the basic conception is still admirable today, compared both with his predecessors and with those who following him ventured to advance general historical observations. This monumental conception of history pervades the Phnomenologies, Asthetik and Geschichte der Philosophie, and the material is everywhere set forth historically, in a definite historical context, even if in an abstract distorted manner. This epoch-making conception of history was a direct theoretical pre-condition of the new materialist outlook, and already this constituted a connecting link with the logical method as well. Since, even from the standpoint of pure reasoning, this forgotten dialectics had led to such results, and had moreover with the greatest ease coped with the whole of the former logic and metaphysics, it must at all events comprise more than sophistry and hairsplitting. But the critique of this method, which the entire official philosophy had evaded and still evades, was no small matter. Marx was and is the only one who could undertake the work of extracting from the Hegelian logic the nucleus containing Hegels real discoveries in this field, and of establishing the dialectical method, divested of its idealist wrappings, in the simple form in which it becomes the only correct mode of conceptual evolution. The working out of the method which underlies Marxs critique of political economy is, we think, a result hardly less significant than the basic materialist conception. Even after the determination of the method, the critique of economics could still be arranged in two ways historically or logically. Since in the course of history, as in its literary reflection, the evolution proceeds by and large from the simplest to the more complex relations, the historical development of political economy constituted a natural clue, which the critique could take as a point of departure, and then the economic categories would appear on the whole in the same order as in the logical exposition. This form seems to have the advantage of greater lucidity, for it traces the actual development, but in fact it would thus become, at most, more popular. History moves often in leaps and bounds and in a zigzag line, and as this would have to be followed throughout, it would mean not only that a considerable amount of material of slight importance would have to be included, but also that the train of thought would frequently have to be interrupted; it would, moreover, be impossible to write the history of economy without that of bourgeois society, and the task would thus become immense, because of the absence of all preliminary studies. The logical method of approach was therefore the only suitable one. This, however, is indeed nothing but the historical method, only stripped of the

historical form and diverting chance occurrences. The point where this history begins must also be the starting point of the train of thought, and its further progress will be simply the reflection, in abstract and theoretically consistent form, of the historical course. Though the reflection is corrected, it is corrected in accordance with laws provided by the actual historical course, since each factor can be examined at the stage of development where it reaches its full maturity, its classical form. With this method we begin with the first and simplest relation which is historically, actually available, thus in this context with the first economic relation to be found. We analyse this relation. The fact that it is a relation already implies that it has two aspects which are related to each other. Each of these aspects is examined separately; this reveals the nature of their mutual behaviour, their reciprocal action. Contradictions will emerge demanding a solution. But since we are not examining an abstract mental process that takes place solely in our mind, but an actual event which really took place at some time or other, or which is still taking place, these contradictions will have arisen in practice and have probably been solved. We shall trace the mode of this solution and find that it has been effected by establishing a new relation, whose two contradictory aspects we shall then have to set forth, and so on. Political economy begins with commodities, with the moment when products are exchanged, either by individuals or by primitive communities. The product being exchanged is a commodity. But it is a commodity merely by virtue of the thing, the product being linked with a relation between two persons or communities, the relation between producer and consumer, who at this stage are no longer united in the same person. Here is at once an example of a peculiar fact, which pervades the whole economy and has produced serious confusion in the minds of bourgeois economists economics is not concerned with things but with relations between persons, and in the final analysis between classes; these relations however are always bound to things and appear as things. Although a few economists had an inkling of this connection in isolated instances, Marx was the first to reveal its significance for the entire economy thus making the most difficult problems so simple and clear that even bourgeois economists will now be able to grasp them. If we examine the various aspects of the commodity, that is of the fully evolved commodity and not as it at first slowly emerges in the spontaneous barter of two primitive communities, it presents itself to us from two angles, that of use-value and of exchange-value, and thus we come immediately to the province of economic debate. Anyone wishing to find a striking instance of the fact that the German dialectic method at its present stage of development is at least as superior to the old superficially glib metaphysical method as railways are to the mediaeval means of transport, should look up Adam Smith or any other authoritative economist of repute to see how much distress exchange-value and use-value caused these gentlemen, the difficulty they had in distinguishing the two properly and in expressing the determinate form peculiar to each, and then compare the clear, simple exposition given by Marx. After use-value and exchange-value have been expounded, the commodity as a direct unity of the two is described as it enters the exchange process. The contradictions arising here may be found on pp. 20 and 21. We merely note that these contradictions are not only of interest for theoretical, abstract reasons, but that they also reflect the difficulties originating from the nature of direct interchange, i.e., simple barter, and the impossibilities inevitably confronting this first crude form of exchange. The solution of

these impossibilities is achieved by investing a specific commodity money with the attribute of representing the exchange-value of all other commodities. Money or simple circulation is then analysed in the second chapter, namely (1) money as a measure of value, and, at the same time, value measured in terms of money, i.e., price, is more closely defined; (2) money as means of circulationand (3) the unity of the two aspects, real money which represents bourgeois material wealth as a whole. This concludes the first part, the conversion of money into capital is left for the second part. One can see that with this method, the logical exposition need by no means be confined to the purely abstract sphere. On the contrary, it requires historical illustration and continuous contact with reality. A great variety of such evidence is therefore inserted, comprising references both to different stages in the actual historical course of social development and to economic works, in which the working out of lucid definitions of economic relations is traced from the outset. The critique of particular, more or less one-sided or confused interpretations is thus substantially given already in the logical exposition and can be kept quite short. The economic content of the book will be discussed in a third article.

The International Workingmens Association 1864

Inaugural Address of the International Working Mens Association The First International

Written: October 21-27, 1864; First Published: Printed as a pamphlet in Inaugural Address and Provisional Rules of the International Working Mens Association, along with the General Rules. London. Source: Original pamphlet; Transcription/Markup: Zodiac/Brian Baggins; Online Version: Marx & Engels Internet Archive (marxists.org) 2000.

Workingmen: It is a great fact that the misery of the working masses has not diminished from 1848 to 1864, and yet this period is unrivaled for the development of its industry and the growth of its commerce. In 1850 a moderate organ of the British middle class, of more than average information, predicted that if the exports and imports of England were to rise 50 per cent, English pauperism would sink to zero. Alas! On April 7, 1864, the Chancellor of the Exchequer delighted his parliamentary audience by the statement that the total import and export of England had grown in 1863 to 443,955,000 pounds! That astonishing sum about three times the trade of the comparatively recent epoch of 1843! With all that, he was eloquent upon poverty. Think, he exclaimed, of those who are on the border of that region, upon wages... not increased; upon human life... in nine cases out of ten but a struggle of existence! He did not speak of the people of Ireland, gradually replaced by machinery in the north and by sheepwalks in the south, though even the sheep in that unhappy country are decreasing, it is true, not at so rapid a rate as the men. He did not repeat what then had been just betrayed by the highest representation of the upper ten thousand in a sudden fit of terror. When garrote panic had reached a

certain height the House of Lords caused an inquiry to be made into, and a report to be published upon, transportation and penal servitude. Out came the murder in the bulky Blue Book of 1863 and proved it was, by official facts and figures, that the worst of the convicted criminals, the penal serfs of England and Scotland, toiled much less and fared far better than the agricultural laborers of England and Scotland. But this was not all. When, consequent upon the Civil War in America, the operatives of Lancashire and Cheshire were thrown upon the streets, the same House of Lords sent to the manufacturing districts a physician commissioned to investigate into the smallest possible amount of carbon and nitrogen, to be administered in the cheapest and plainest form, which on an average might just suffice to avert starvation diseases. Dr. Smith, the medical deputy, ascertained that 28,000 grains of carbon and 1,330 grains of nitrogen were the weekly allowance that would keep an average adult... just over the level of starvation diseases, and he found furthermore that quantity pretty nearly to agree with the scanty nourishment to which the pressure of extreme distress had actually reduced the cotton operatives (1). But now mark! The same learned doctor was later on again deputed by the medical officer of the Privy Council to enquire into the nourishment of the poorer laboring classes. The results of his research are embodied in the Sixth Report on Public Health, published by order of Parliament in the course of the present year. What did the doctor discover? That the silk weavers, the needlewomen, the kid glovers, the stock weavers, and so forth, received on an average, not even the distress pittance of the cotton operatives, not even the amount of carbon and nitrogen just sufficient to avert starvation diseases. Moreover: we quote from the report as regards the examined families of the agricultural population, it appeared that more than a fifth were with less than the estimated sufficiency of carbonaceous food, that more than one-third were with less than the estimated sufficiency of nitrogeneous food, and that in three counties (Berkshire, Oxfordshire, and Somersetshire) insufficiency of nitrogeneous food was the average diet. It must be remembered, adds the official report, that privation of food is very reluctantly borne, and that, as a rule, great poorness of diet will only come when other privations have preceded it.... Even cleanliness will have been found costly or difficult, and if there still be self-respectful endeavors to maintain it, every such endeavor will represent additional pangs of hunger. These are painful reflections, especially when it is remembered that the poverty to which they advert is not the deserved poverty of idleness; in all cases it is the poverty of working populations. Indeed the work which obtains the scanty pittance of food is for the most part excessively prolonged. The report brings out the strange and rather unexpected fact: That of the division of the United Kingdom, England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, the agricultural population of England, the richest division, is considerably the worst fed; but that even the agricultural laborers of Berkshire, Oxfordshire, and Somersetshire fare better than great numbers of skilled indoor operatives of the East of London. Such are the official statements published by order of Parliament in 1864, during the millennium of free trade, at a time when the Chancellor of the Exchequer told the House of Commons that

the average condition of the British laborer has improved in a degree we know to be extraordinary and unexampled in the history of any country or any age. Upon these official congratulations jars the dry remark of the official Public Health Report: The public health of a country means the health of its masses, and the masses will scarcely be healthy unless, to their very base, they be at least moderately prosperous. Dazzled by the Progress of the Nation statistics dancing before his eyes, the Chancellor of the Exchequer exclaims in wild ecstasy: From 1842 to 1852, the taxable income of the country increased by 6 per cent; in the eight years from 1853 to 1861, it has increased from the basis taken in 1853, 20 per cent! The fact is so astonishing to be almost incredible! ... This intoxicating augmentation of wealth and power, adds Mr. Gladstone, is entirely confined to classes of property. If you want to know under what conditions of broken health, tainted morals, and mental ruin that intoxicating augmentation of wealth and power... entirely confined to classes of property was, and is, being produced by the classes of labor, look to the picture hung up in the last Public Health Report of the workshops of tailors, printers, and dressmakers! Compare the Report of the Childrens Employment Commission of 1863, where it states, for instance, that the potters as a class, both men and women, represent a much degenerated population, both physically and mentally, that the unhealthy child is an unhealthy parent in his turn, that a progressive deterioration of the race must go on, and that the degenerescence of the population of Staffordshire would be even greater were it not for the constant recruiting from the adjacent country, and the intermarriage with more healthy races. Glance at Mr. Tremenheeres Blue Book of the Grievances Complained of by the Journeymen Bakers! And who has not shuddered at the paradoxic made by the inspectors of factories, and illustrated by the Registrar General, that the Lancashire operatives, while put upon the distress pittance of food, were actually improving in health, because of their temporary exclusion by the cotton famine from the cotton factory, and the mortality of the children was decreasing, because their mothers were now at last allowed to give them, instead of Godreys cordial, their own breasts. Again, reverse the medal! The income and property tax returns laid before the House of Commons on July 20, 1864, teach us that the persons with yearly incomes valued by the tax gatherer of 50,000 pounds and upwards had, from April 5, 1862, to April 5, 1863, been joined by a dozen and one, their number having increased in that single year from 67 to 80. The same returns disclose the fact that about 3,000 persons divide among themselves a yearly income of about 25,000,000 pounds sterling, rather more than the total revenue doled out annually to the whole mass of the agricultural laborers of England and Wales. Open the census of 1861 and you will find that the number of male landed proprietors of England and Wales has decreased from 16,934 in 1851 to 15,066 in 1861, so that the concentration of land had grown in 10 years 11 per cent. If the concentration of the soil of the country

in a few hands proceeds at the same rate, the land question will become singularly simplified, as it had become in the Roman Empire when Nero grinned at the discovery that half of the province of Africa was owned by six gentlemen. We have dwelt so long upon these facts so astonishing to be almost incredible because England heads the Europe of commerce and industry. It will be remembered that some months ago one of the refugee sons of Louis Philippe publicly congratulated the English agricultural laborer on the superiority of his lot over that of his less florid comrade on the other side of the Channel. Indeed, with local colors changed, and on a scale somewhat contracted, the English facts reproduce themselves in all the industrious and progressive countries of the Continent. In all of them there has taken place, since 1848, an unheard-of development of industry, and an unheard-of expansion of imports and exports. In all of them, as in England, a minority of the working classes got their real wages somewhat advanced; while in most cases the monetary rise of wages denoted no more a real access of comforts than the inmate of the metropolitan poorhouse or orphan asylum, for instance, was in the least benefited by his first necessaries costing 9 15s. 8d. in 1861 against 7 7s. 4d. in 1852. Everywhere the great mass of the working classes were sinking down to a lower depth, at the same rate at least that those above them were rising in the social scale. In all countries of Europe it has now become a truth demonstrable to every unprejudiced mind, and only decried by those whose interest it is to hedge other people in a fools paradise, that no improvement of machinery, no appliance of science to production, no contrivances of communication, no new colonies, no emigration, no opening of markets, no free trade, not all these things put together, will do away with the miseries of the industrious masses; but that, on the present false base, every fresh development of the productive powers of labor must tend to deepen social contrasts and point social antagonisms. Death of starvation rose almost to the rank of an institution, during this intoxicating epoch of economical progress, in the metropolis of the British empire. That epoch is marked in the annals of the world by the quickened return, the widening compass, and the deadlier effects of the social pest called a commercial and industrial crisis. After the failure of the Revolution of 1848, all party organizations and party journals of the working classes were, on the Continent, crushed by the iron hand of force, the most advanced sons of labor fled in despair to the transatlantic republic, and the short-lived dreams of emancipation vanished before an epoch of industrial fever, moral marasm, and political reaction. The defeat of the continental working classes, partly owed to the diplomacy of the English government, acting then as now in fraternal solidarity with the Cabinet of St. Petersburg, soon spread its contagious effects to this side of the Channel. While the rout of their continental brethren unmanned the English working classes, and broke their faith in their own cause, it restored to the landlord and the money lord their somewhat shaken confidence. They insolently withdrew concessions already advertised. The discoveries of new gold lands led to an immense exodus, leaving an irreparable void in the ranks of the British proletariat. Others of its formerly active members were caught by the temporary bribe of greater work and wages, and turned into political blacks. All the efforts made at keeping up, of remodeling, the Chartist movement failed signally; the press organs of the working class died one by one of the apathy of the masses, and in point of fact never before seemed the English working class so thoroughly reconciled to a state of political

nullity. If, then, there had been no solidarity of action between the British and the continental working classes, there was, at all events, a solidarity of defeat. And yet the period passed since the Revolutions of 1848 has not been without its compensating features. We shall here only point to two great factors. After a 30 years struggle, fought with almost admirable perseverance, the English working classes, improving a momentaneous split between the landlords and money lords, succeeded in carrying the Ten Hours Bill. The immense physical, moral, and intellectual benefits hence accruing to the factory operatives, half-yearly chronicled in the reports of the inspectors of factories, are now acknowledged on all sides. Most of the continental governments had to accept the English Factory Act in more or less modified forms, and the English Parliament itself is every year compelled to enlarge its sphere of action. But besides its practical import, there was something else to exalt the marvelous success of this workingmens measure. Through their most notorious organs of science, such as Dr. Ure, Professor Senior, and other sages of that stamp, the middle class had predicted, and to their hearts content proved, that any legal restriction of the hours of labor must sound the death knell of British industry, which, vampirelike, could but live by sucking blood, and childrens blood, too. In olden times, child murder was a mysterious rite of the religion of Moloch, but it was practiced on some very solemn occassions only, once a year perhaps, and then Moloch had no exclusive bias for the children of the poor. This struggle about the legal restriction of the hours of labor raged the more fiercely since, apart from frightened avarice, it told indeed upon the great contest between the blind rule of the supply and demand laws which form the political economy of the middle class, and social production controlled by social foresight, which forms the political economy of the working class. Hence the Ten Hours Bill was not only a great practical success; it was the victory of a principle; it was the first time that in broad daylight the political economy of the middle class succumbed to the political economy of the working class. But there was in store a still greater victory of the political economy of labor over the political economy of property. We speak of the co-operative movement, especially the co-operative factories raised by the unassisted efforts of a few bold hands. The value of these great social experiments cannot be overrated. By deed instead of by argument, they have shown that production on a large scale, and in accord with the behests of modern science, may be carried on without the existence of a class of masters employing a class of hands; that to bear fruit, the means of labor need not be monopolized as a means of dominion over, and of extortion against, the laboring man himself; and that, like slave labor, like serf labor, hired labor is but a transitory and inferior form, destined to disappear before associated labor plying its toil with a willing hand, a ready mind, and a joyous heart. In England, the seeds of the cooperative system were sown by Robert Owen; the workingmens experiments tried on the Continent were, in fact, the practical upshot of the theories, not invented, but loudly proclaimed, in 1848. At the same time the experience of the period from 1848 to 1864 has proved beyond doubt that, however, excellent in principle and however useful in practice, co-operative labor, if kept within the narrow circle of the casual efforts of private workmen, will never be able to arrest the growth in geometrical progression of monopoly, to free the masses, nor even to perceptibly lighten the burden of

their miseries. It is perhaps for this very reason that plausible noblemen, philanthropic middle-class spouters, and even keep political economists have all at once turned nauseously complimentary to the very co-operative labor system they had vainly tried to nip in the bud by deriding it as the utopia of the dreamer, or stigmatizing it as the sacrilege of the socialist. To save the industrious masses, co-operative labor ought to be developed to national dimensions, and, consequently, to be fostered by national means. Yet the lords of the land and the lords of capital will always use their political privileges for the defense and perpetuation of their economic monopolies. So far from promoting, they will continue to lay every possible impediment in the way of the emancipation of labor. Remember the sneer with which, last session, Lord Palmerston put down the advocated of the Irish Tenants Right Bill. The House of Commons, cried he, is a house of landed proprietors. To conquer political power has, therefore, become the great duty of the working classes. They seem to have comprehended this, for in England, Germany, Italy, and France, there have taken place simultaneous revivals, and simultaneous efforts are being made at the political organization of the workingmens party. One element of success they possess numbers; but numbers weigh in the balance only if united by combination and led by knowledge. Past experience has shown how disregard of that bond of brotherhood which ought to exist between the workmen of different countries, and incite them to stand firmly by each other in all their struggles for emancipation, will be chastised by the common discomfiture of their incoherent efforts. This thought prompted the workingmen of different countries assembled on September 28, 1864, in public meeting at St. Martins Hall, to found the International Association. Another conviction swayed that meeting. If the emancipation of the working classes requires their fraternal concurrence, how are they to fulfill that great mission with a foreign policy in pursuit of criminal designs, playing upon national prejudices, and squandering in piratical wars the peoples blood and treasure? It was not the wisdom of the ruling classes, but the heroic resistance to their criminal folly by the working classes of England, that saved the west of Europe from plunging headlong into an infamous crusade for the perpetuation and propagation of slavery on the other side of the Atlantic. The shameless approval, mock sympathy, or idiotic indifference with which the upper classes of Europe have witnessed the mountain fortress of the Caucasus falling a prey to, and heroic Poland being assassinated by, Russia: the immense and unresisted encroachments of that barbarous power, whose head is in St. Petersburg, and whose hands are in every cabinet of Europe, have taught the working classes the duty to master themselves the mysteries of international politics; to watch the diplomatic acts of their respective governments; to counteract them, if necessary, by all means in their power; when unable to prevent, to combine in simultaneous denunciations, and to vindicate the simple laws or morals and justice, which ought to govern the relations of private individuals, as the rules paramount of the intercourse of nations. The fight for such a foreign policy forms part of the general struggle for the emancipation of the working classes. Proletarians of all countries, unite!

1. We need hardly remind the reader that, apart from the elements of water and certain inorganic substances, carbon and nitrogen form the raw materials of human food. However, to nourish the human system, these simple chemical constituents must be supplied in the form of vegetable or animal substances. Potatoes, for instance, contain mainly carbon, while wheaten bread contains carbonaceous and nitrogenous substances in a due proportion. K.M.

Karl Marx. Capital Volume One

Chapter Thirty-One: Genesis of the Industrial Capitalist

The genesis of the industrial [1] capitalist did not proceed in such a gradual way as that of the farmer. Doubtless many small guild-masters, and yet more independent small artisans, or even wage labourers, transformed themselves into small capitalists, and (by gradually extending exploitation of wage labour and corresponding accumulation) into full-blown capitalists. In the infancy of capitalist production, things often happened as in the infancy of medieval towns, where the question, which of the escaped serfs should be master and which servant, was in great part decided by the earlier or later date of their flight. The snails pace of this method corresponded in no wise with the commercial requirements of the new world market that the great discoveries of the end of the 15th century created. But the middle ages had handed down two distinct forms of capital, which mature in the most different economic social formations, and which before the era of the capitalist mode of production, are considered as capital quand mme [all the same] usurers capital and merchants capital. At present, all the wealth of society goes first into the possession of the capitalist ... he pays the landowner his rent, the labourer his wages, the tax and tithe gatherer their claims, and keeps a large, indeed the largest, and a continually augmenting share, of the annual produce of labour for himself. The capitalist may now be said to be the first owner of all the wealth of the community, though no law has conferred on him the right to this property... this change has been effected by the taking of interest on capital ... and it is not a little curious that all the law-givers of Europe endeavoured to prevent this by statutes, viz., statutes against usury.... The power of the capitalist over all the wealth of the country is a complete change in the right of property, and by what law, or series of laws, was it effected? [2] The author should have remembered that revolutions are not made by laws. The money capital formed by means of usury and commerce was prevented from turning into industrial capital, in the country by the feudal constitution, in the towns by the guild organisation. [3] These fetters vanished with the dissolution of feudal society, with the expropriation and partial eviction of the country population. The new manufactures were established at sea-ports, or at inland points beyond the control of the old municipalities and their guilds. Hence in England an embittered struggle of the corporate towns against these new industrial nurseries. The discovery of gold and silver in America, the extirpation, enslavement and entombment in mines of the aboriginal population, the beginning of the conquest and looting of the East Indies, the turning of Africa into a warren for the commercial hunting of black-skins, signalised the rosy dawn of the era of capitalist production. These idyllic proceedings are the chief momenta of primitive accumulation. On their heels treads the commercial war of the European nations, with the globe for a theatre. It begins

with the revolt of the Netherlands from Spain, assumes giant dimensions in Englands Anti-Jacobin War, and is still going on in the opium wars against China, &c. The different momenta of primitive accumulation distribute themselves now, more or less in chronological order, particularly over Spain, Portugal, Holland, France, and England. In England at the end of the 17th century, they arrive at a systematical combination, embracing the colonies, the national debt, the modern mode of taxation, and the protectionist system. These methods depend in part on brute force, e.g., the colonial system. But, they all employ the power of the State, the concentrated and organised force of society, to hasten, hot-house fashion, the process of transformation of the feudal mode of production into the capitalist mode, and to shorten the transition. Force is the midwife of every old society pregnant with a new one. It is itself an economic power. Of the Christian colonial system, W. Howitt, a man who makes a speciality of Christianity, says: The barbarities and desperate outrages of the so-called Christian race, throughout every region of the world, and upon every people they have been able to subdue, are not to be paralleled by those of any other race, however fierce, however untaught, and however reckless of mercy and of shame, in any age of the earth. [4] The history of the colonial administration of Holland and Holland was the head capitalistic nation of the 17th century is one of the most extraordinary relations of treachery, bribery, massacre, and meanness [5] Nothing is more characteristic than their system of stealing men, to get slaves for Java. The men stealers were trained for this purpose. The thief, the interpreter, and the seller, were the chief agents in this trade, native princes the chief sellers. The young people stolen, were thrown into the secret dungeons of Celebes, until they were ready for sending to the slave-ships. An official report says: This one town of Macassar, e.g., is full of secret prisons, one more horrible than the other, crammed with unfortunates, victims of greed and tyranny fettered in chains, forcibly torn from their families. To secure Malacca, the Dutch corrupted the Portuguese governor. He let them into the town in 1641. They hurried at once to his house and assassinated him, to abstain from the payment of 21,875, the price of his treason. Wherever they set foot, devastation and depopulation followed. Banjuwangi, a province of Java, in 1750 numbered over 80,000 inhabitants, in 1811 only 18,000. Sweet commerce! The English East India Company, as is well known, obtained, besides the political rule in India, the exclusive monopoly of the tea-trade, as well as of the Chinese trade in general, and of the transport of goods to and from Europe. But the coasting trade of India and between the islands, as well as the internal trade of India, were the monopoly of the higher employs of the company. The monopolies of salt, opium, betel and other commodities, were inexhaustible mines of wealth. The employs themselves fixed the price and plundered at will the unhappy Hindus. The Governor-General took part in this private traffic. His favourites received contracts under conditions whereby they, cleverer than the alchemists, made gold out of nothing. Great fortunes sprang up like mushrooms in a day; primitive

accumulation went on without the advance of a shilling. The trial of Warren Hastings swarms with such cases. Here is an instance. A contract for opium was given to a certain Sullivan at the moment of his departure on an official mission to a part of India far removed from the opium district. Sullivan sold his contract to one Binn for 40,000; Binn sold it the same day for 60,000, and the ultimate purchaser who carried out the contract declared that after all he realised an enormous gain. According to one of the lists laid before Parliament, the Company and its employs from 1757-1766 got 6,000,000 from the Indians as gifts. Between 1769 and 1770, the English manufactured a famine by buying up all the rice and refusing to sell it again, except at fabulous prices. [6] The treatment of the aborigines was, naturally, most frightful in plantation-colonies destined for export trade only, such as the West Indies, and in rich and well-populated countries, such as Mexico and India, that were given over to plunder. But even in the colonies properly so called, the Christian character of primitive accumulation did not belie itself. Those sober virtuosi of Protestantism, the Puritans of New England, in 1703, by decrees of their assembly set a premium of 40 on every Indian scalp and every captured red-skin: in 1720 a premium of 100 on every scalp; in 1744, after Massachusetts-Bay had proclaimed a certain tribe as rebels, the following prices: for a male scalp of 12 years and upwards 100 (new currency), for a male prisoner 105, for women and children prisoners 50, for scalps of women and children 50. Some decades later, the colonial system took its revenge on the descendants of the pious pilgrim fathers, who had grown seditious in the meantime. At English instigation and for English pay they were tomahawked by red-skins. The British Parliament proclaimed bloodhounds and scalping as means that God and Nature had given into its hand. The colonial system ripened, like a hot-house, trade and navigation. The societies Monopolia of Luther were powerful levers for concentration of capital. The colonies secured a market for the budding manufactures, and, through the monopoly of the market, an increased accumulation. The treasures captured outside Europe by undisguised looting, enslavement, and murder, floated back to the mothercountry and were there turned into capital. Holland, which first fully developed the colonial system, in 1648 stood already in the acme of its commercial greatness. It was in almost exclusive possession of the East Indian trade and the commerce between the south-east and north-west of Europe. Its fisheries, marine, manufactures, surpassed those of any other country. The total capital of the Republic was probably more important than that of all the rest of Europe put together. Glich forgets to add that by 1648, the people of Holland were more over-worked, poorer and more brutally oppressed than those of all the rest of Europe put together. Today industrial supremacy implies commercial supremacy. In the period of manufacture properly so called, it is, on the other hand, the commercial supremacy that gives industrial predominance. Hence the preponderant rle that the colonial system plays at that time. It was the strange God who perched himself on the altar cheek by jowl with the old Gods of Europe, and one fine day with a shove and a kick chucked them all of a heap. It proclaimed surplus-value making as the sole end and aim of humanity. The system of public credit, i.e., of national debts, whose origin we discover in Genoa and Venice as early as the Middle Ages, took possession of Europe generally during the manufacturing period. The

colonial system with its maritime trade and commercial wars served as a forcing-house for it. Thus it first took root in Holland. National debts, i.e., the alienation of the state whether despotic, constitutional or republican marked with its stamp the capitalistic era. The only part of the so-called national wealth that actually enters into the collective possessions of modern peoples is their national debt. [7] Hence, as a necessary consequence, the modern doctrine that a nation becomes the richer the more deeply it is in debt. Public credit becomes the credo of capital. And with the rise of national debt-making, want of faith in the national debt takes the place of the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, which may not be forgiven. The public debt becomes one of the most powerful levers of primitive accumulation. As with the stroke of an enchanters wand, it endows barren money with the power of breeding and thus turns it into capital, without the necessity of its exposing itself to the troubles and risks inseparable from its employment in industry or even in usury. The state creditors actually give nothing away, for the sum lent is transformed into public bonds, easily negotiable, which go on functioning in their hands just as so much hard cash would. But further, apart from the class of lazy annuitants thus created, and from the improvised wealth of the financiers, middlemen between the government and the nation as also apart from the tax-farmers, merchants, private manufacturers, to whom a good part of every national loan renders the service of a capital fallen from heaven the national debt has given rise to joint-stock companies, to dealings in negotiable effects of all kinds, and to agiotage, in a word to stock-exchange gambling and the modern bankocracy. At their birth the great banks, decorated with national titles, were only associations of private speculators, who placed themselves by the side of governments, and, thanks to the privileges they received, were in a position to advance money to the State. Hence the accumulation of the national debt has no more infallible measure than the successive rise in the stock of these banks, whose full development dates from the founding of the Bank of England in 1694. The Bank of England began with lending its money to the Government at 8%; at the same time it was empowered by Parliament to coin money out of the same capital, by lending it again to the public in the form of banknotes. It was allowed to use these notes for discounting bills, making advances on commodities, and for buying the precious metals. It was not long ere this credit-money, made by the bank itself, became. the coin in which theBank of England made its loans to the State, and paid, on account of the State, the interest on the public debt. It was not enough that the bank gave with one hand and took back more with the other; it remained, even whilst receiving, the eternal creditor of the nation down to the last shilling advanced. Gradually it became inevitably the receptacle of the metallic hoard of the country, and the centre of gravity of all commercial credit. What effect was produced on their contemporaries by the sudden uprising of this brood of bankocrats, financiers, rentiers, brokers, stock-jobbers, &c., is proved by the writings of that time, e.g., by Bolingbrokes. [8] With the national debt arose an international credit system, which often conceals one of the sources of primitive accumulation in this or that people. Thus the villainies of the Venetian thieving system formed one of the secret bases of the capital-wealth of Holland to whom Venice in her decadence lent large sums of money. So also was it with Holland and England. By the beginning of the 18th century the Dutch manufactures were far outstripped. Holland had ceased to be the nation preponderant in commerce

and industry. One of its main lines of business, therefore, from 1701-1776, is the lending out of enormous amounts of capital, especially to its great rival England. The same thing is going on today between England and the United States. A great deal of capital, which appears today in the United States without any certificate of birth, was yesterday, in England, the capitalised blood of children. As the national debt finds its support in the public revenue, which must cover the yearly payments for interest, &c., the modern system of taxation was the necessary complement of the system of national loans. The loans enable the government to meet extraordinary expenses, without the tax-payers feeling it immediately, but they necessitate, as a consequence, increased taxes. On the other hand, the raising of taxation caused by the accumulation of debts contracted one after another, compels the government always to have recourse to new loans for new extraordinary expenses. Modern fiscality, whose pivot is formed by taxes on the most necessary means of subsistence (thereby increasing their price), thus contains within itself the germ of automatic progression. Overtaxation is not an incident, but rather a principle. In Holland, therefore, where this system was first inaugurated, the great patriot, DeWitt, has in his Maxims extolled it as the best system for making the wage labourer submissive, frugal, industrious, and overburdened with labour. The destructive influence that it exercises on the condition of the wage labourer concerns us less however, here, than the forcible expropriation, resulting from it, of peasants, artisans, and in a word, all elements of the lower middle class. On this there are not two opinions, even among the bourgeois economists. Its expropriating efficacy is still further heightened by the system of protection, which forms one of its integral parts. The great part that the public debt, and the fiscal system corresponding with it, has played in the capitalisation of wealth and the expropriation of the masses, has led many writers, like Cobbett, Doubleday and others, to seek in this, incorrectly, the fundamental cause of the misery of the modern peoples. The system of protection was an artificial means of manufacturing manufacturers, of expropriating independent labourers, of capitalising the national means of production and subsistence, of forcibly abbreviating the transition from the medieval to the modern mode of production. The European states tore one another to pieces about the patent of this invention, and, once entered into the service of the surplus-value makers, did not merely lay under contribution in the pursuit of this purpose their own people, indirectly through protective duties, directly through export premiums. They also forcibly rooted out, in their dependent countries, all industry, as, e.g., England did. with the Irish woollen manufacture. On the continent of Europe, after Colberts example, the process was much simplified. The primitive industrial capital, here, came in part directly out of the state treasury. Why, cries Mirabeau, why go so far to seek the cause of the manufacturing glory of Saxony before the war? 180,000,000 of debts contracted by the sovereigns! [9] Colonial system, public debts, heavy taxes, protection, commercial wars, &c., these children of the true manufacturing period, increase gigantically during the infancy of Modem Industry. The birth of the latter is heralded by a great slaughter of the innocents. Like the royal navy, the factories were recruited by means of the press-gang. Blas as Sir F. M. Eden is as to the horrors of the expropriation of the agricultural population from the soil, from the last third of the 15th century to his own time; with all the

self-satisfaction with which he rejoices in this process, essential for establishing capitalistic agriculture and the due proportion between arable and pasture land he does not show, however, the same economic insight in respect to the necessity of child-stealing and child-slavery for the transformation of manufacturing exploitation into factory exploitation, and the establishment of the true relation between capital and labour-power. He says: It may, perhaps, be worthy the attention of the public to consider, whether any manufacture, which, in order to be carried on successfully, requires that cottages and workhouses should be ransacked for poor children; that they should be employed by turns during the greater part of the night and robbed of that rest which, though indispensable to all, is most required by the young; and that numbers of both sexes, of different ages and dispositions, should be collected together in such a manner that the contagion of example cannot but lead to profligacy and debauchery; will add to the sum of individual or national felicity? [10] In the counties of Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, and more particularly in Lancashire, says Fielden, the newly-invented machinery was used in large factories built on the sides of streams capable of turning the water-wheel. Thousands of hands were suddenly required in these places, remote from towns; and Lancashire, in particular, being, till then, comparatively thinly populated and barren, a population was all that she now wanted. The small and nimble fingers of little children being by very far the most in request, the custom instantly sprang up of procuring apprentices from the different parish workhouses of London, Birmingham, and elsewhere. Many, many thousands of these little, hapless creatures were sent down into the north, being from the age of 7 to the age of 13 or 14 years old. The custom was for the master to clothe his apprentices and to feed and lodge them in an apprentice house near the factory; overseers were appointed to see to the works, whose interest it was to work the children to the utmost, because their pay was in proportion to the quantity of work that they could exact. Cruelty was, of course, the consequence. ... In many of the manufacturing districts, but particularly, I am afraid, in the guilty county to which I belong [Lancashire], cruelties the most heart-rending were practised upon the unoffending and friendless creatures who were thus consigned to the charge of master-manufacturers; they were harassed to the brink of death by excess of labour ... were flogged, fettered and tortured in the most exquisite refinement of cruelty; ... they were in many cases starved to the bone while flogged to their work and ... even in some instances ... were driven to commit suicide.... The beautiful and romantic valleys of Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and Lancashire, secluded from the public eye, became the dismal solitudes of torture, and of many a murder. The profits of manufacturers were enormous; but this only whetted the appetite that it should have satisfied, and therefore the manufacturers had recourse to an expedient that seemed to secure to them those profits without any possibility of limit; they began the practice of what is termed night-working, that is, having tired one set of hands, by working them throughout the day, they had another set ready to go on working throughout the night; the day-set getting into the beds that the night-set had just quitted, and in their turn again, the night-set getting into the beds that the day-set quitted in the morning. It is a common tradition in Lancashire, that the beds never get cold. With the development of capitalist production during the manufacturing period, the public opinion of Europe had lost the last remnant of shame and conscience. The nations bragged cynically of every

infamy that served them as a means to capitalistic accumulation. Read, e.g., the nave Annals of Commerce of the worthy A. Anderson. Here it is trumpeted forth as a triumph of English statecraft that at the Peace of Utrecht, England extorted from the Spaniards by the Asiento Treaty the privilege of being allowed to ply the negro trade, until then only carried on between Africa and the English West Indies, between Africa and Spanish America as well. England thereby acquired the right of supplying Spanish America until 1743 with 4,800 negroes yearly. This threw, at the same time, an official cloak over British smuggling. Liverpool waxed fat on the slave trade. This was its method of primitive accumulation. And, even to the present day, Liverpool respectability is the Pindar of the slave trade which compare the work of Aikin [1795] already quoted has coincided with that spirit of bold adventure which has characterised the trade of Liverpool and rapidly carried it to its present state of prosperity; has occasioned vast employment for shipping and sailors, and greatly augmented the demand for the manufactures of the country (p. 339). Liverpool employed in the slave-trade, in 1730, 15 ships; in 1751, 53; in 1760, 74; in 1770, 96; and in 1792, 132.[12] Whilst the cotton industry introduced child-slavery in England, it gave in the United States a stimulus to the transformation of the earlier, more or less patriarchal slavery, into a system of commercial exploitation. In fact, the veiled slavery of the wage workers in Europe needed, for its pedestal, slavery pure and simple in the new world. Tantae molis erat, to establish the eternal laws of Nature of the capitalist mode of production, to complete the process of separation between labourers and conditions of labour, to transform, at one pole, the social means of production and subsistence into capital, at the opposite pole, the mass of the population into wage labourers, into free labouring poor, that artificial product of modern society. [13] If money, according to Augier, [14] comes into the world with a congenital blood-stain on one cheek, capital comes dripping from head to foot, from every pore, with blood and dirt. [15]

Footnotes 1. Industrial here in contradistinction to agricultural. In the categoric sense the farmer is an industrial capitalist as much as the manufacturer. 2. The Natural and Artificial Rights of Property Contrasted. Lond., 1832, pp. 98-99. Author of the anonymous work: Th. Hodgskin. 3. Even as late as 1794, the small cloth-makers of Leeds sent a deputation to Parliament, with a petition for a law to forbid any merchant from becoming a manufacturer. (Dr. Aikin, l. c.) 4. William Howitt: Colonisation and Christianity: A Popular History of the Treatment of the Natives by the Europeans in all their Colonies. London, 1838, p. 9. On the treatment of the slaves there is a good compilation in Charles Comte, Trait de la Lgislation. 3me d. Bruxelles, 1837. This subject one must

study in detail, to see what the bourgeoisie makes of itself and of the labourer, wherever it can, without restraint, model the world after its own image. 5. Thomas Stamford Raffles, late Lieut-Gov. of that island: The History of Java, Lond., 1817. 6. In the year 1866 more than a million Hindus died of hunger in the province of Orissa alone. Nevertheless, the attempt was made to enrich the Indian treasury by the price at which the necessaries of life were sold to the starving people. 7. William Cobbett remarks that in England all public institutions are designated royal; as compensation for this, however, there is the national debt. 8. Si les Tartares inondaient lEurope aujourdhui, il faudrait bien des affaires pour leur faire entendre ce que cest quun financier parmi nous. [if the Tartars were to flood into Europe today, it would be a difficult job to make them understand what a financier is with us] Montesquieu, Esprit des lois, t. iv., p. 33, ed. Londres, 1769. 9. Mirabeau, l. c., t. vi., p. 101. 10. Eden, l. c., Vol. I., Book II., Ch. 1., p. 421. 11. John Fielden, l. c., pp. 5, 6. On the earlier infamies of the factory system, cf. Dr. Aikin (I 795), l. c., p. 219. and Gisbome: Enquiry into the Duties of Men, 1795 Vol. II. When the steam-engine transplanted the factories from the country waterfalls to the middle of towns, the abstemious surplus-value maker found the child-material ready to his hand, without being forced to seek slaves from the workhouses. When Sir R. Peel (father of the minister of plausibility"), brought in his bill for the protection of children, in 1815, Francis Homer, lumen of the Billion Committee and intimate friend of Ricardo, said in the House of Commons: It is notorious, that with a bankrupts effects, a gang, if he might use the word, of these children had been put up to sale, and were advertised publicly as part of the property. A most atrocious instance had been brought before the Court of Kings Bench two years before, in which a number of these boys, apprenticed by a parish in London to one manufacturer, had been transferred to another, and had been found by some benevolent persons in a state of absolute famine. Another case more horrible had come to his knowledge while on a [Parliamentary] Committee ... that not many years ago, an agreement had been made between a London parish and a Lancashire manufacturer, by which it was stipulated, that with every 20 sound children one idiot should be taken. 12. In 1790, there were in the English West Indies ten slaves for one free man, in the French fourteen for one, in the Dutch twenty-three for one. (Henry Brougham: An Inquiry into the Colonial Policy of the European Powers. Edin. 1803, vol. II., p. 74.) 13. The phrase, labouring poor, is found in English legislation from the moment when the class of wage labourers becomes noticeable. This term is used in opposition, on the one hand, to the idle poor, beggars, etc., on the other to those labourers, who, pigeons not yet plucked, are still possessors of their own means of labour. From the Statute Book it passed into Political Economy, and was handed down by Culpeper, J. Child, etc., to Adam Smith and Eden. After this, one can judge of the good faith of

the execrable political cant-monger, Edmund Burke, when he called the expression, labouring poor, execrable political cant. This sycophant who, in the pay of the English oligarchy, played the romantic laudator temporis acti against the French Revolution, just as, in the pay of the North American Colonies, at the beginning of the American troubles, he had played the Liberal against the English oligarchy, was an out and out vulgar bourgeois. The laws of commerce are the laws of Nature, and therefore the laws of God. (E. Burke, l. c., pp. 31, 32.) No wonder that, true to the laws of God and of Nature, he always sold himself in the best market. A very good portrait of this Edmund Burke, during his liberal time, is to be found in the writings of the Rev. Mr. Tucker. Tucker was a parson and a Tory, but, for the rest, an honourable man and a competent political economist. In face of the infamous cowardice of character that reigns today, and believes most devoutly in the laws of commerce, it is our bounden duty again and again to brand the Burkes, who only differ from their successors in one thing talent. 14. Marie Angier: Du Crdit Public. Paris, 1842. 15. Capital is said by a Quarterly Reviewer to fly turbulence and strife, and to be timid, which is very true; but this is very incompletely stating the question. Capital eschews no profit, or very small profit, just as Nature was formerly said to abhor a vacuum. With adequate profit, capital is very bold. A certain 10 per cent. will ensure its employment anywhere; 20 per cent. certain will produce eagerness; 50 per cent., positive audacity; 100 per cent. will make it ready to trample on all human laws; 300 per cent., and there is not a crime at which it will scruple, nor a risk it will not run, even to the chance of its owner being hanged. If turbulence and strife will bring a profit, it will freely encourage both. Smuggling and the slave-trade have amply proved all that is here stated. (T. J. Dunning, l. c., pp. 35, 36.)

Theories of Surplus Value, Marx 1861-3 [CHAPTER VIII] Herr Rodbertus. New Theory of Rent. (Digression)

[1. Excess Surplus-Value in Agriculture. Agriculture Develops Slower Than Industry under Conditions of Capitalism]
||X-445| Herr Rodbertus. Dritter Brief an von Kirchmann von Rodbertus. Widerlegung der Ricardoschen Lehre von der Grundrente und Begrndung einer neuen Rententheorie, Berlin, 1851. The following remark has to be made beforehand: supposing the necessary wage is equal to 10 hours, then this is most easily explained in the following manner. If 10 hours labour (i.e., a sum of money equal to 10 hours) enabled the agricultural labourer, on an average, to purchase all the necessary means of subsistence, agricultural, industrial products, etc., then this is the average wage for unskilled labour. We are thus concerned here with the value of his daily product which must fall to his share. In the first place this value exists in the form of the commodity which he produces, i.e., [in] a certain quantity of this commodity, in exchange for which, after deducting what he himself consumes of the commodity (if he [does consume any of it]), he can procure for himself the necessary means of subsistence. Not only the use-value which he himself produces, but industry, agriculture, etc., thus come into the estimation of his necessary income. But this is inherent in the concept of commodity. He produces a commodity, not merely a product. We need therefore waste no words about this. Herr Rodbertus first investigates the situation in a country where there is no separation between land ownership and owner-ship of capital. And here he comes to the important conclusion that rent (by which he means the entiresurplus-value) is simply equal to the unpaid labour or the quantity of products which it represents. In the first instance it is noteworthy that Rodbertus only takes into account the growth of relative surplus-value, i.e., the growth of surplus-value in so far as it arises out of the growing productivity of labour and not the growth of surplus-value derived from the prolongation of the working-day itself. All absolute surplus-value is of course relative in one respect. Labour must be sufficiently productive for the worker not to require all his time to keep himself alive. But from this point the distinction comes into force. Incidentally, if originally labour is but little productive, the needs are also extremely simple (as with slaves) and the masters themselves do not live much better than the servants. The relative productivity of labour necessary before a profit-monger, a parasite, can come, into being is very small. If we find a high rate of profit though labour is as yet very unproductive, and

machinery, division of labour etc., are not used, then this is the case only under the following circumstances; either as in India, partly because the requirements of the worker are extremely small and he is depressed even below his modest needs, but partly also because low productivity of labour is identical with a relatively small fixed capital in proportion to the share of capital which is spent on wages or, and this comes to the same thing, with a relatively high proportion of capital laid out in wages in relation to the total capital; or finally, because labour-time is excessively long, The latter is the case in countries (such as Austria etc.) where the capitalist mode of production is already in existence but which have to compete with far more developed countries. Wages can be low here partly because the requirements of the worker are less developed, partly because agricultural products are cheaper or this amounts to the same thing as far as the capitalist is concernedbecause they have less value in terms of money. Hence the quantity of the product of, say, 10 hours labour, which must go to the worker as necessary wages, is small. If, however, he works 17 hours instead of 12 then this can make up (for the low productivity of labour]. In any case because in a given country the value of labour is falling relatively to its productivity, it must not be imagined that wages in different countries are inversely proportional to the productivity of labour. In fact exactly the opposite is the case. The more productive one country is relative to another in the world market, the higher will be its wages as compared with the other. In England, not only nominal wages but [also] real wages are higher than on the continent. The worker eats more meat; he satisfies more needs. This, however, only applies to the industrial worker and not the agricultural labourer. But in proportion to the productivity of the English workers their wages are not higher (than the wages paid in other countries]. Quite apart from the variation in rent according to the fertility of the land, the very existence of rent i.e., the modern form of landed propertyis feasible because the average wage of the agricultural labourer is below that of the industrial worker. Since, to start with, by tradition (as the farmer turns capitalist before capitalists turn farmers) the capitalist passed on part of his gain to the landlord, he compensated himself by forcing wages down below their level. With the labourers desertion of the land, wages had to rise and they did rise. But hardly has this pressure become evident, when machinery etc. is introduced and the land once more boasts a (relative) surplus population. (Vide England.) Surplus-value can be increased, without the extension of labour-time or the development of the productive power of labour, by forcing wages below their traditional level. And indeed this is the case wherever agricultural production is carried on by capitalist methods. Where it cannot be achieved by means of machinery, it is done by turning the land over to sheep grazing. Here then we already have a potential basis of ||446| rent since,in fact, the agricultural labourers wage does not equal the average wage. This rent would be feasible quite independent of the price of the product, which is equal to its value. Ricardo is also aware of the second type of rent increase, which arises from a greater product sold at the same price, but he does not take it into account, since he measures rent per quarter and not per acre. He would not say that rent has risen (and in this way rent can rise with falling prices) because 20 quarters [at] 2s, is more than 10 [quarters at] 2s, or 10 quarters [at] 3s. Incidentally, however the phenomenon of rent may be explained, the significant difference between agriculture and industry remains, in that in the latter, excess surplus-value is created by cheaper

production, in the former, by dearer production. If the average price of 1 lb. of yarn is 2s. and I can produce it for 1s. then, in order to gain an increased market for it, I will necessarily sell [it] for 1s. 6d. [or] at any rate below 2s. And what is more, this is absolutely necessary, for cheaper production presupposes production on a larger scale. So, compared with before, I am now glutting the market, I must sell more than before. Although 1 lb. of yarn costs only 1s. this is only the case if I now produce, say, 10,000 lbs. as against my previous 8,000 lbs. The low cost is only achieved because fixed capital is spread over 10,000 lbs. If I were to sell only 8,000 lbs., the depreciation of the machines alone would raise the price per lb. by one-fifth, i.e., 20 per cent. So I sell at below 2s. in order to be able to sell 10,000 lbs. In doing so, I am still making an excess profit of 6d., i.e., of 50 per cent on the value of my product which is 1s. and already includes the normal profit. In any case, I am hereby forcing down the market-price with the result that the consumer gets the product more cheaply. But in agriculture I sell at 2s. since, if I had sufficient fertile land, the less fertile would not be cultivated. If the area of fertile land were enlarged, or the fertility [of the] poorer soil so improved that I could satisfy demand, then this game would end, Not only does Ricardo not deny this, but he expressly calls attention to it. Thus if we admit that the varying fertility of the land accounts not for rent itself, but only for the differences in rent, there remains the law that while in industry, on an average, excess profit arises from the lowering of the price of the product, in agriculture the relative size of rent is determined not only by the relative raising of the price (raising the price of the product of fertile land above its value) but by selling the cheaper product at he cost of the dearer. This is, however, as I have already demonstrated (Proudhon), merely the law of competition, which does not emanate from the soil but from capitalist production itself. Furthermore, Ricardo would be right in another respect, except that, in the manner of the economists, he turns a historical phenomenon into an eternal law. This historical phenomenon is the relatively faster development of manufacture (in fact the truly bourgeois branch of industry) as against agriculture. The latter has become more productive but not in the same ratio as industry. Whereas in manufacture productivity has increased tenfold, in agriculture it has, perhaps, doubled. Agriculture has therefore become relatively less productive, although absolutely more productive. This only proves the very queer development of bourgeois production and its inherent contradictions. It does not, however, invalidate the proposition that agriculture becomes relatively less productive and hence, compared with the value of the industrial product, the value of the agricultural product rises and with it also rent. That in the course of development of capitalist production, agricultural labour has become relatively less productive than industrial labour only means that the productivity of agriculture has not developed with the same speed and to the same degree. Suppose the relation of industry A to industry B is as 1:1. Originally agriculture [was] more productive because not only natural forces but also a machine created by nature play a part in agriculture; right from the start, the individual worker is working with a machine. Hence, in ancient times and in the Middle Ages agricultural products were relatively much cheaper than industrial products, which is obvious (see Wade) from the ratio of the two within the average wage.

At the same time let 1: 1 indicate the fertility of the two [branches of production]. Now if industry A becomes 10, [i.e.] its fertility increases tenfold while industry B merely increases threefold, becomes 3, then whereas the industries were previously as 1:1 they are now as 10:3 or as 1 : 3/10. The fertility of industry B has decreased relatively by 7/10 although absolutely it has increased threefold. For the highest rent [it is] the samerelatively to industryas if it had risen because the poorest land had become 7/10 less fertile. Now it does not by any means follow, as Ricardo supposes, that the rate of profit has fallen because wages have risen as a result of the relative increase in the price of agricultural products ||447|. For the average wage is not determined by the relative but by the absolute value of the products which enter into it. It does however follow that the rate of profit (really the rate of surplus-value) has not risen in the same ratio as the productive power of manufacturing industry, and this is due to agriculture (not the land) being relatively less productive. This is absolutely certain. The reduction in the necessary labourtime seems small compared with the progress in industry. This is evident from the fact that the agricultural products of countries like Russia etc. can beat those of England. The lower value of money in the wealthier countries (i.e., the low relative production costs of money in the wealthier countries) does not enter into it at all. For the question is, why it does not affect their industrial products in competition with poorer countries when it does affect their agricultural products. (Incidentally, this does not prove that poor countries produce more cheaply, that their agricultural labour is more productive. Even in the United States, the volume of corn at a given price has increased, as has recently been proved by statistical information, not however because the yield per acre has risen, but because more acres have come under cultivation. It cannot be said that the land is more productive where there is a great land mass and where large areas, superficially cultivated, yield a greater absolute product with the same amount of labour than much smaller areas in the more advanced country.) The fact that less productive land is brought under cultivation does not necessarily prove that agriculture has become less productive. On the contrary, it may prove that it has become more productive; that the inferior land is being cultivated, not [only] because the price of the agricultural product has sufficiently risen to compensate for the capital investment, but also the converse, that the means of production have developed to such an extent that the unproductive land has become productive and capable of yielding not only the normal profit but also rent. Land which is fertile at a [given] stage of development of productive power may be unfertile for a lower developmental stage. In agriculture, the extension of labour-timei.e., the augmentation of absolute surplus-valueis only possible to a limited degree. One cannot work by gaslight on the land and so on. True, one can rise early in spring and summer. But this is offset by the shorter winter days when, in any case, only a relatively small amount of work can be accomplished. So in this respect absolute surplus-value is greater in industry so long as the normal working-day is not regulated by force of law. A second reason for a smaller amount of surplus-value being created in agriculture is the long period during which the product remains in the process of production without any labour being expended on it. With the exception of certain branches of agriculture such as stock-raising, sheep farming, etc., where the population is positively ousted from the land, the number of people employed relatively to the constant capital used, is still far greatereven in the most advanced large-scale agriculturethan in industry, or

at least in the dominating branches of industry. Hence in this respect even if, for the above-mentioned reasons, the mass of surplus-value is relatively smaller than it [would be] with the employment of the same number of people in industrythis latter condition is partly offset again by the wage falling below its average levelthe rate of profit can be greater than in industry, But if there are, in agriculture, any causes (we only indicate the above) which raise the rate of profit (not temporarily but on an average as compared with industry) then the mere existence of the landlord would cause this extra profit to consolidate itself and accrue to the landlord rather than enter into the formation of the general rate of profit.

[2. The Relationship of the Rate of Profit to the Rate of Surplus-Value. The Value of Agricultural Raw Material as an Element of Constant Capital in Agriculture] In general terms the question to be answered with regard to Rodbertus is as follows: The general form of capital advanced is: Constant capital MachineryRaw materials Variable capital Labour-power

In general the two elements of constant capital are the instruments of labour and the subject of labour. The latter is not necessarily a commodity, a product of labour. It may therefore not exist as an element of capital, although it is invariably an element in the labour-process. Soil is the husbandmans raw material, the mine that of the miner, the water that of the fisherman and even the forest is that of the hunter. In the most complete form of capital, however, these three elements of the labour-process also exist as three elements of capital, i.e., they are all commodities, use-values which have an exchange-value and are products of labour. In this case all three elements enter into the process of creating value, although machinery [enters into it] not to the extent to which it enters into the labour-process but only in so far as it is consumed. The following question now arises: Can the absence of one of these elements in a particular branch of industry enhance the rate of profit (not the rate of surplus-value) in that industry? In general terms, the formula itself provides the answer: The rate of profit equals the ratio of surplus-value to the total capital advanced. Throughout this investigation it is assumed that the rate of surplus-value, i.e., the division of the value of the product between the capitalist and the worker, remains constant. ||448| The rate of surplus-value is s/v; the rate of profit is s/c+v. Since s, the rate of surplus-value, is given, v is given and s/v is assumed to be a constant value. Therefore the magnitude of s/c+v can only alter when c + vchanges and since v is given, this can only increase or decrease because c decreases or increases.

And further, s/c+v will increase or decrease not in the ratio of c : v but according to cs relation to the sum of c + v, If c equals nought, then s/c+v = s/v. The rate of profit [would] in this case equal the rate of surplus-value and this is its highest possible amount, since no sort of calculation can alter the magnitude of s and v. Suppose v = 100 and s = 50, then s/v = 50/100 = 1/2 = 50 per cent. If a constant capital of 100 were added, then the rate of profit [would be] 50/150+100 = 50/200 =1/4 = 25 per cent. The rate of profit would have decreased by half. If 150 c were added to 100 v then the rate of profit would be 50/100+150 = 50/250 = 1/5 = 20 per cent. In the first instance, total capital equals v, i.e., equals variable capital, hence the rate of profit equals the rate of surplus-value. In the second instance, total capital equals 2 v, hence the rate of profit is only half the rate of surplus-value. In the third instance total capital is 2 1/2 100, that is 2 1/2 v, that is 5/2 v; v is now only 2/5 of total capital. Surplus-value equals half of v, i.e., half of 100, hence is only half of 2/5 of total capital, or 2/10 of total capital. 250/10 = 25 and 2/10 of 250 = 50. But 2/10 = 20 per cent. Hence to start with this much has been established. Provided v remains constant and s/v too, then it is of no consequence how c is composed. If c has a certain magnitude, say 100, then it makes no difference whether it consists of 50 units of raw material and 50 of machinery or 10 of raw material and 90 of machinery, or no raw material and 100 machinery or the other way about. For the rate of profit is determined by the relationship s/c+v; the relative value of the various production elements contained in c is of no consequence here. For instance, in the production of coal the raw materials (after deducting coal itself which is used as an auxiliary material) may be reckoned as nought and the entire constant capital can be assumed to consist of machinery (including buildings and tools). On the other hand, with a tailor, machinery can be considered as nought and here the whole of constant capital resolves into raw materials (particularly where tailors running a large business do not as yet use sewingmachines and, on the other hand, even save buildings, as sometimes occurs nowadays in London, by employing their workers as outworkers, This is a new phenomenon, where the second division of labour reappears in the form of the first). If the colliery owner employs 1,000 units of machinery and 1,000 units of labour and the tailor 1,000 of raw materials and 1,000 of labour, then with an equal rate of surplus-value, the rate of profit in both instances is the same. If [we] assume that surplus-value is 20 per cent, then the rate of profit would in both cases be 10 per cent, namely: 200/2000 = 2/20 = 1/10 = 10 per cent. Hence there are only two instances in which the ratio between the component parts of c, i.e., raw materials and machinery, can affect the rate of profit: 1. If a change in this ratio modifies the absolute magnitude of c. 2. If the ratio between the component parts of c modifies the size of v. This would imply organic changes in production itself and not merely the tautologous statement that if a particular part of c accounts for a smaller portion, then the other must make up a larger portion of the total amount. In the real bill of an English farmer, wages amount to 1,690, manure to 686, seeds to 150, fodder for cows to 100. Thus raw material comes to 936, which is more than half the amount spent on wages. (See F. W. Newman, Lectures on Political Economy, London, 1851, p. 166.) In Flanders (in the Belgian areas) dung and hay are in these parts imported from Holland (for flaxgrowing, etc. In turn they export flax, linseed, etc.). The refuse of the towns has therefore become[a] a

matter of trade, and is regularly sold at high prices to Belgium At about twenty miles from Antwerp, up the Schelde, the reservoirs may be seen for the manure that is brought from Holland. The trade is managed by a company of capitalists and the[b] Dutch boats etc. (Banfield). And so even manure, plain muck, has become merchandise, not to speak of bone-meal, guano, pottash etc. That the elements of production are estimated in terms of money is not merely due to the formal change in production. New materials are introduced into the soil and its old ones are sold for reasons of production. This is not merely a formal difference between the capitalist and the previous mode of production. The seed trade has risen in importance to the extent to which the importance of seed rotation has become recognised. Hence it would be ridiculous to say that no raw materiali.e., raw material as a commodity enters into agriculture whether it be reproduced by agriculture itself or bought as a commodity, acquired from outside. It would be equally absurd to say that the machine employed by the engineer ||449| who constructs machines does not figure as an element of value in his capital. A German peasant who year after year produces his own elements of production, seeds, manure etc., and, with his family, consumes part of his crops needs to spend money (as far as production itself is concerned) only on the purchase of a few tools for cultivating the land, and on wages. Let us assume that the value of all his expenses is 100 [half of this having to be paid out in money]. He consumes half [of the product] in kind (production costs [are also included here]). The other half he sells and he receives, say, 100, His gross income is thus 100 and if he relates this to his capital of 50 then it amounts to 100 per cent [profit]. If one-third of the 50 is deducted for rent and one-third for taxes (33 1/3 in all) then he retains 16 2/3, calculated on 50 this is 33 1/3 per cent. But in fact he has only received 16 2/3 per cent [of the 100 he laid out originally]. The peasant has merely miscalculated and has cheated himself. The capitalist farmer does not make such errors. Mathieu de Dombasle says in his Annales agricoles etc. 4 ime livraison, Paris 1828 that under the mtairie contract (in [the province of] Berry, for example) : the landlord supplies the land, the buildings and usually all or part of the livestock and the tools required for cultivation; the tenant for his part supplies his labour and nothing, or almost nothing else. The products of the land are shared in equal parts (l.c., p. 301). The tenants are as a rule submerged in dire poverty (l.c., p. 302). If the metayer, having laid out 1,000 francs, increases his gross product by 1,500 francs (i.e., a gross gain of 500 francs) he must pass half of it on to the landowner, retaining merely 750 and so loses 250 francs of his expenses (l.c., p. 304). Under the previous system of cultivation the expenses or costs of production were almost exclusively drawn in kind, from the products themselves, for the consumption of the animals and of the cultivator of the land and his family; hardly any cash was paid out. Only these particular circumstances could give rise to the belief that landowner and tenant could divide amongst themselves the whole of the harvest which had not been consumed during production. But this process is only applicable to this type of agriculture, namely, low-level agriculture. But when it is desired to raise that level, it is realised that this is only possible by making certain advances which have to be deducted from the gross product in order to be

able to utilise them again in the following year. Hence this kind of division of the gross product becomes an insurmountable obstacle to any sort of improvement (l.c., p. 307).

[3. Value and Average Price in Agriculture. Absolute Rent]

[a) Equalisation of the Rate of Profit in Industry] Herr Rodbertus seems to think that competition brings about a normal profit, or average profit or general rate of profit by reducing the commodities to their real value; i.e., that it regulates their price relationships in such a manner that the correlative quantities of labour-time contained in the various commodities are expressed in money or whatever else happens to be the measure of value. This is of course not brought about by the price of a commodity at any given moment being equal to its value nor does it have to be equal to its value. [According to Rodbertus, this is what happens:] For example the price of commodity A rises above its value and for a time remains, moreover, at this high level, or even continues to rise. The profit of [the capitalist who produces] A thus rises above the average profit in that he appropriates not only his own unpaid labour-time, but also a part of the unpaid labour-time which other capitalists have produced. This has to be compensated by a fall in profit in one or other sphere of production provided the price of the other commodities in terms of money remains constant. If the commodity is a means of subsistence generally consumed by the worker, then it will depress the rate of profit in all other branches; if it enters as a constituent part into the constant capital, then it will force down the rate of profit in all those spheres of production where it forms an element in constant capital. Finally, the commodity may neither be an element in any constant capital, nor form a necessary item in the workers means of subsistence (for those commodities which the worker can choose to buy or abstain from buying, he consumes as a consumer in general and not as a worker) but it may be one of the consumer goods, an article for individual consumption in general. If, as such, it is consumed by the industrial capitalist himself, then the rise in its price in no way affects the amount of surplus-value or the rate of surplus-value. Now if the capitalist wanted to maintain his previous standard of consumption, then that part of profit (surplus-value) which he uses for individual consumption would rise in relation to that which he sinks into industrial reproduction. The latter would decrease. As a result of the price rise, or the rise in profit above its average rate, in A, the volume of profit in B, C, etc. would diminish within a certain space of time (which is also determined by reproduction). If article A was exclusively consumed by other than industrial capitalists, then they would consume more than before of commodity A as compared with commodities B, C, etc. The demand for commodities B, C, etc. would fall; their price would fall and, in this case, the price rise in A, or the rise in profit in A above the average rate, would have brought about a fall in the profit in B, C, etc. below the average rate by forcing down the money prices of B, C, etc. (in contrast to the previous instances where the money price of B, C, etc. ||450| remained constant). Capitals would migrate from B, C, etc., where the rate of profit has sunk below the *average+ level, to As sphere of production. This would apply particularly to a portion of

the new capital which is continually entering the market and which would naturally tend to penetrate into the more profitable sphere A. Consequently, after some time, the price of article A would fall below its value and would continue to do so for a longer or shorter period, until the reverse movement set in again. The opposite process would take place in the spheres B, C, etc., partly as a result of the reduced supplies of articles B, C, etc., because of the exodus of capital, i.e., because of the organic changes taking place in these spheres of production themselves, and partly as a result of the changes which have occurred in A and which in turn are affecting B, C, etc. in the opposite direction. Incidentally, it may well be that in this processassuming the value of money to be constantthe money prices of B, C, etc., never regain their original level, although they may rise above the value of commodities B, C, etc. and hence the rate of profit in B, C, etc. may also rise above the general rate of profit. Improvements, inventions, greater economy in the means of production, etc. are introduced not at times when prices rise above their average level, but when they fall below it, i.e., when profit falls below its normal rate. Hence during the period of failing prices of B, C, etc., their real value may fall, in other words the minimum labour-time required for the production of these commodities may decrease. In this case, the commodity can only regain its former money price if the rise in its price over its value equals the margin, i.e., the difference between the price which expresses its new value and the price which expressed its higher former value. Here the price of the commodity would have changed the value of the commodity by affecting supply, and the costs of production. The result of the above-mentioned movement: If we take the average of the increases and decreases in the price of the commodity above or below its value, or the period of equalisation of rises and fails periods which are constantly repeatedthen the average price is equal to the value of the commodity. The average profit in a particular sphere is therefore also equal to the general rate of profit; for although, in this sphere, profit rose above or fell below its old rate with the rise or fall in pricesor with the increase or decrease in costs of production while the price remained constanton an average, over the period, the commodity was sold at its value. Hence the profit yielded is equal to the general rate of profit. This is Adam Smiths conception and, even more so, Ricardos, since the latter adheres more firmly to the real concept of value. Herr Rodbertus acquires it from them. And yet this conception is wrong. What is the effect of the competition between capitals? The average price of the commodities during a period of equalisation is such that these prices yield the same profits to the producers of commodities in every sphere, for instance, 10 per cent. What else does this mean? That the price of each commodity stands at one-tenth above the price of the production costs, which the capitalist has incurred, i.e., the amount he has spent in order to produce the commodity. In general terms this just means that capitals of equal size yield equal profits, that the price of each commodity is one-tenth higher than the price of the capital advanced, consumed or represented in the commodity. It is however quite incorrect to say that capitals in the various spheres of production produce the same surplus-value in relation to their size, even if we assume that the absolute working-day is equally long in all spheres, i.e., if we assume a set rate of surplus-value. <We leave aside here the possibility of one capitalist enforcing longer working hours than another, and we assume a fixed absolute working-day for all spheres. The variation in

absolute working-days is partly offset by the varying intensity of labour etc., and partly these differences only signify arbitrary excess profits, exceptional cases, etc.) Bearing in mind the above assumption, the amount of surplus-value produced by capitals of equal size varies firstly according to the correlation of their organic components, i.e., of variable and constant capital; secondlyaccording to their period of circulation in so far as this is determined by the ratio of fixed capital to circulating capital and also [by] the various periods of reproduction of the different sorts of fixed capital; thirdly according to the duration of the actual period of production as distinct from the duration of labour-time itself, which again may lead to substantial differences between the length of the production period and circulation period. (The first of these correlations, namely, that between constant and variable capital, can itself spring from a great divergency of causes; it may, for example, be purely formal so that the raw material worked up in one sphere is dearer than that worked up in another, or it may result from the varying productivity of labour, etc.) Thus, if the commodities were sold at their values or if the average prices of the commodities were equal to their values, then the rate of profit in the various spheres would have to vary a great deal. In one case it would be 50, in others 40, 30, 20, 10, etc. Taking the total volume of commodities for a year in sphere A, for instance, their value would be equal to the capital advanced in them plus the unremunerated labour they contain. Ditto in spheres B and C. But since A, B and C contain different amounts of unpaid labour, for instance, A more than B and B more than C, the commodities A might perhaps yield 3 S (S = surplus-value) to their producers, B = 2 S and C = S. Since the rate of profit is determined by the ratio of surplus-value to capital advanced, and as on our assumption this is the same in A, B, C, etc., then ||451| if C is the capital advanced, the various rates of profit will be 3S/C, 2S/C, S/C. Competition of capitals can therefore only equalise the rates of profit, for instance in our example, by making the rates of profit, equal to 2S/C, 2S/C, 2SC, in the spheres A, B, C. A would sell his commodity at 1 S less and C at 1 S more than its value. The average price in sphere A would be below, and in sphere C would be above, the value of the commodities A and C. As the example of B shows, it can in fact happen that the average price and the value of a commodity coincide. This occurs when the surplus-value created in sphere B itself equals the average profit; in other words, when the relationship of the various components of the capital in sphere B is the same as that which exists when the total sum of capitals, the capital of the capitalist class, is regarded as one magnitude on which the whole of surplus-value [is] calculated, irrespective of the sphere in which it has been created. In this aggregate capital the periods of turnover, etc. are equalised; one can, for instance, consider that the whole of this capital is turned over during one year. In that case every section of the aggregate capital would in accordance with its magnitude participate in the aggregate surplus-value and draw a corresponding part of it. And since every individual capital is to be regarded as shareholder in this aggregate capital, it would be correct to say first that its rate of profit is the same as that of all the others [because] capitals of the same size yield the same amount of profit; secondly, and this arises automatically from the first point, that the volume of profit depends on the size of the capital, on the number of shares the capitalist owns in that aggregate capital. Competition among capitals thus seeks to treat every capital as a share of the aggregate capital and correspondingly to regulate its participation in surplus-value and hence also in profit. Competition more or less succeeds in this by

means of its equalisations (we shall not examine here the reason why it encounters particular obstacles in certain spheres). But in plain language this just means that the capitalists strive (and this striving is competition) to divide among themselves the quantity of unpaid labouror the products of this quantity of labourwhich they squeeze out of the working class, not according to the surplus-labour produced directly by a particular capital, but corresponding firstly to the relative portion of the aggregate capital which a particular capital represents and secondly according to the amount of surpluslabour produced by the aggregate capital. The capitalists, like hostile brothers, divide among themselves the loot of other peoples labour which they have appropriated so that on an average one receives the same amount of unpaid labour as another. Competition achieves this equalisation by regulating average prices. These average prices themselves, however, are either above or below the value of the commodity so that no commodity yields a higher rate of profit than any other. It is therefore wrong to say that competition among capitals brings about a general rate of profit by equalising the prices of commodities to their values. On the contrary it does so by converting the values of the commodities into average prices, in which a part of surplus-value is transferred from one commodity to another, etc. The value of a commodity equals the quantity of paid and unpaid labour contained in it. Theaverage price of a commodity equals the quantity of paid labour it contains (materialised or living) plus a average quota of unpaid labour. The latter does not depend on whether this amount was contained in the commodity itself or on whether more or less of it was embodied in the value of the commodity.

[b) Formulation of the Problem of Rent] It is possibleI leave this over for a later inquiry which does not belong to the subject-matter of this bookthat certain spheres of production function under circumstances which work against a reduction in their values to average prices in the above sense, and do not permit competition to achieve this victory. If this were the case for instance with agricultural rent or rent from mines (there are rents which are altogether only explicable by monopoly conditions, for instance the water rent in Lombardy, and in parts of Asia, also house rent in so far as it represents rent from landed property) then it would follow that while the product of all industrial capitals is raised or lowered to the average price, the product of agriculture [would] equal its value, which would be above the average price. Might there be obstacles here, which cause more of the surplus-value created in this sphere of production to be appropriated as property of the sphere itself, than should be the case according to the laws of competition, more than it should receive according to the quota of capital invested in this branch of industry? Supposing industrial capitals which are producing 10 or 20 or 30 per cent more surplusvalue ||452| than industrial capitals of equal size in other spheres of production, not just temporarily, but because of the very nature of theirspheres of production as opposed to others; supposing I say, they were able to hang on to this excess surplus-value in the face of competition and to prevent it from being included in the general accounts (distribution) which determine the general rate of profit, then, in this

case, one could distinguish between two recipients in the spheres of production of these capitals, the one who would get the general rate of profit, and the other who would get the surplus exclusively inherent in this sphere. Every capitalist could pay, hand over, this excess to the privileged one, in order to invest his capital here, and he would retain for himself the general rate of profit, like every other capitalist, working under the same conditions. If this were the case in agriculture etc., then the splitting of surplus-value into profit and rent would by no means indicate that labour as such is actually more productive (*in the sense of production+ of surplus-value) here than in manufacture. Hence [it would not be necessary] to ascribe any magic powers to the soil; this, moreover, is in any case absurd, since value equals labour, therefore surplus-value cannot possibly equal soil (although relative surplusvalue may be due to the natural fertility of the soil, but under no circumstances could this result in a higher price for the products of the soil. Rather the opposite). Nor would it be necessary to have recourse to Ricardos theory, which is disagreeably linked with the Malthusian trash, has repulsive consequences and, though in theory it is not especially opposed to my views on relative surplus-value, it deprives them of much of their practical significance. Ricardos point is this: Rent (for instance, in agriculture) can be nothing other than an excess above general profit whereas he presupposesagriculture is run on capitalist lines, where [there] is [a] farmer. Whether that which the landlord receives is actually equal to this rent in the bourgeoiseconomic sense is quite irrelevant. It may be purely a deduction from wages (vide Ireland) or it may be partly derived from the reduction of the farmers profit below the average level of profits. Which of these possible factors happens to be operative is of no consequence whatsoever. Rent, in the bourgeois system, only exists as a special, characteristic form of surplus-value in so far as it is an excess over and above (general) profit. But how is this possible? The commodity wheat, like every other commodity, is [according to Ricardo] sold at its value, i.e., it is exchanged for other commodities in relation to the labour-time embodied in it. (This is the first erroneous assumption which complicates the problem by posing it artificially. Only in exceptional circumstances are commodities exchanged at their value. Their average prices are determined in a different way. See above.> The farmer who grows wheat makes the same profit as all the other capitalists. This proves that, like all the others, he appropriates that portion of labour-time for which he has not paid his workers. Where, on top of this, does the rent come from? It must represent labour-time. Why should surplus-labour in agriculture resolve into profit and rent while in industry it is just profit? And, how is this possible at all, if the profit in agriculture equals the profit in every other sphere of production? <Ricardos faulty conception of profit and the way in which he confuses it with surplus-value have also a detrimental effect here. They make the whole thing more difficult for him.> Ricardo solves this difficulty by assuming that in principle it is non-existent. <This indeed is in principle the only possibility of overcoming any difficulty. But there are two ways of doing this. Either one shows that the contradiction to the principle is an illusion which arises from the development of the thing itself, or one denies the existence of the difficulty at one point, as Ricardo does, and then takes this as a starting-point from which one can proceed to explain its existence at some other stage.>

He assumes a point at which the farmers capital, like everyone elses, only yields profit. <This capital may be invested in a non-rent paying or individual farm, or in a non-rent paying part of the land of a farm. In fact it can be any capital which is employed in the cultivation of land that does not pay rent.> This, moreover, is the starting-point, and it can also be expressed as follows: Originally the farmers capital only pays profit, no rent <although thispseudo-historical form is of no consequence and in other laws is common to all bourgeois economists>. It is no different from any other industrial capital. Rent only enters into it because the demand for grain rises and now, in contrast to other branches of industry, it becomes necessary to resort to less fertile ground. The farmer (the supposed original farmer) suffers, like any other industrial capitalist, in so far as he has to pay his workers more because of the rise in [the price of] food. But he gains because of the rise in price of his commodity above its value, firstly, to the extent to which the value of other commodities which enter into his constant capital falls relatively to his commodity and so he buys them more cheaply, and secondly, in so far as he owns the surplus-value in the form of his dearer commodity. Thus this farmers profit rises above the average rate of profit, which has, however, fallen. Hence another capitalist moves onto the less fertile land, No. II which, with this lower rate of profit, can supply produce at the price of I or perhaps even a little more cheaply. Be that as it may, we now have, once more, ||453| the normal situation on II, that surplusvalue merely resolves itself into profit. But we have explained the rent for I by the existence of a twofold price of production: the production price of II [which] is simultaneously the market price of I. A temporary surplus gain has been [achieved], just as with the factory-made commodity which is produced under more favourable conditions. The price of corn, which in addition to profit comprises rent, in fact consists only of materialised labour, and is equal to its value; it is however equal not to the value embodied in itself, but to the value of II. It is impossible to have two market prices [side by side] <While Ricardo introduces farmer No, II because of the fall in the rate of profit, Stirling introduces him because wages [have] fallen not risen following upon the price of corn. This fall in wages allows No. II to cultivate a piece [of land] No. II at the old rate of profit, although the soil is less fertile.> Once the existence of rent has been established in this way, the rest follows easily. The difference between rents according to varying fertility, etc., of course remains correct. This does not necessarily imply that less and less fertile land has to come under cultivation. So here we have Ricardos theory. The higher price of corn, which yields an excess profit to I, does not yield even as much as the earlier rate of profit for II. It is thus clear that product II contains more value than product I, i.e., it is the product of more labour-time, it embodies a greater quantity of labour. Therefore more labour-time must be supplied to manufacture the same productsay, for instance, a quarter of wheat. And the rise in rent will be relative to this decreasing fertility of the land, or the growth in the quantity of labour which must be employed to produce, say, a quarter of wheat. Of course Ricardo would not talk of a rise in rent if there were just an increase in the number of quarters from which rent is paid, but only if the price of the individual quarter rose from say 30s. to 60s. True, he does sometimes forget that the absolute volume of rent can grow with a reduced rate of rent, just as the absolute amount of profit can increase with a decreasing rate of profit.

Others seek to by-pass this difficulty (Carey for instance) by directly denying its existence. Rent [they say] is only interest on the capital which, at an earlier stage, was incorporated in the land. Therefore, again only a form of profit. Here then the very existence of rent is denied and so indeed explained away. Others, for instance Buchanan, regard it just as a consequence of monopoly. See also Hopkins. With them it is merely a surcharge above the value. For Mr. Opdyke, a typical Yankee,* landed property or rent becomes the legalised reflection of the capital.[c] With Ricardo the examination is rendered more difficult by the two false assumptions. <Ricardo it is true was not the inventor of the theory of rent. West and Malthus had put it into print before him. The source, however, isAnderson. But what distinguished Ricardo is the way in which he links rent with his theory of value (although West did not entirely miss the real interconnection either). As his later polemic about rent with Ricardo shows, Malthus himself did not understand the theory he had adopted from Anderson.> If we start from the correct principle that the value of commodities is determined by the labour-time necessary for their production (and that value in general is nothing other than materialised social labour-time) then it follows that the average price of commodities is determined by the labour-time required for their production. This conclusion would be the right one if it had been proved that average price equals value. But I show that just because the value of the commodity is determined by labour-time, the average price of the commodities (except in the unique case in which the so-called individual rate of profit in a particular sphere of production, i.e., the profit determined by the surplus-value yielded in this sphere of production itself, [is] equal to the average rate of profit on total capital) can never be equal to their value although this determination of the average price is only derived from the value which is based on labour-time. In the first place, then, it follows that even commodities whose average price (if we disregard the value of constant capital) resolves only into wages and profit, in such a way that these stand at their normal rate, i.e., are average wages and average profit, can be sold above or below their own value, The fact that the commodity yields rent on top of profit ||454| does not prove that the commodity is sold above its intrinsic value, any more than the circumstance of the surplus-value of a commodity only expressing itself in the category of normal profit proves that the commodity is sold at its value. If a commodity can yield an average rate of profit or general rate of profit on capital which is below its own rate of profit determined by its real surplus-value, then it follows that if on top of this average rate of profit commodities in a particular sphere of production yield a second amount of surplus-value which carries a separate name, for instance, rent, then the sum of profit plus rent need not be higher than the surplus-value contained in the commodity. Since profit can be less than the intrinsic surplus-value of the commodity, or the quantity of unpaid labour it embodies, profit plus rent need not be larger than the intrinsic surplus-value of the commodity. Why this occurs in a particular sphere of production as opposed to other spheres has of course still to be explained. But the problem has been simplified. This commodity (the commodity yielding rent] differs from the others in the following way: In a number of these other commodities average price

is above their intrinsic value, but only in order to raise their rate of profit to the level of the general rate. In another section of these other commodities the average price stands at a level below their intrinsic value, but only to the extent required to reduce their rate of profit to concur with the general rate. Finally in a third section of these other commodities, average price equals their intrinsic value, but only because if sold at their intrinsic value they yield the general rate of profit. But the commodity which yields rent differs from all these three instances. Whatever the circumstances, it is sold at a price which will yield more than average profitas determined by the general rate of profit on capital. Now the question arises, which, or how many, of these three instances can occur. Supposing the whole of the surplus-value the commodity contains is realised in its price. In that case, it excludes the third instance, namely, those commodities whose entire surplus-value is realised in their average price, because they only yield ordinary profit. We may, therefore, dismiss this one. Similarly, on this presupposition, we can exclude the first instance, where the surplus-value realised in the price of the commodity is above its intrinsic surplus-value. For it is assumed, that the surplus-value contained in it is realised in its price. This instance is thus analogous with case 2 of those commodities whose intrinsic surplus-value is higher than the surplus-value realised in their average price. As with these commodities the profit represents a form of this surplus-valuein this case profit on the capital employedwhich has been reduced to the level of the general rate of profit. The excess intrinsic surplus-value of the commodity over and above this profit is, however, in contrast to commodity 2, also realised in these exceptional commodities, but accrues not to the owner of the capital, but to the owner of the land, the natural agent, the mine, etc. Or [what happens if we assume that] the price is forced up to such a degree that it carries more than the average rate of profit? This is, for instance, the case with actual monopoly prices. This assumption applied to every sphere of production where capital and labour may be freely employed [and] whose production, so far as the volume of capital employed is concerned, is subject to the general lawswould not only be a petitio principii, but would directly contradict the foundations of [economic] science and of capitalist productionthe former being merely the theoretical expression of the latter. For such an assumption presupposes the very phenomenon which is to be explained, namely, that in a particular sphere of production, the price of a commodity must carry more than the general rate of profit, more than the average rate of profit, and to this end must be sold above its value. It presupposes that agricultural products are excluded from the general laws of value of commodities and of capitalist production. It, moreover, presupposes this, because the peculiar presence of rent side by side with profit prima facie makes it appear so. Hence this is absurd. So there is nothing left but to assume that special circumstances exist in this particular sphere of production, which influence the situation and cause the prices of the commodities to realise [the whole] of their intrinsic surplus-value, This in contrast to [case] 2 of the other commodities, where only as much of their intrinsic surplus-value is realised by their prices as is yielded by the general rate of profit, where their average prices fall so far below their surplus-value that they only yield the general rate of profit, or in other words their average profit is no greater than that in all other spheres of production of capital.

In this way the problem has already become much simpler. It is no longer a question of explaining how it comes about that the price of a commodity yields rent as well as profit, thus apparently evading the general law of value and by raising its price above its intrinsic surplus-value, carrying more than the general rate of profit for a given capital. The question is why, in the process of equalisation of commodities at average prices, this particular commodity does not have to pass on to other commodities so much of its intrinsic surplus-value that it only yields the average profit, but is able to realise a portion of its own surplus-value which forms an excess over and above average profit; so that it is possible for a farmer, who invests capital in this sphere of production, to sell the commodity at prices which yield him the ordinary profit and at the same time enable him to pay the excess in surplus-value realised over and above this profit to a third person, the landlord. ||455| Put in this way, the very formulation of the problem carries its own solution.

[c) Private Ownership of the Land as a Necessary Condition for the Existence of Absolute Rent. Surplus-Value in Agriculture Resolves into Profit and Rent] It is quite simply the private ownership of land, mines, water, etc. by certain people, which enables them to snatch, intercept and seize the excess surplus-value over and above profit (average profit, the rate of profit determined by the general rate of profit) contained in the commodities of these particular spheres of production, these particular fields of capital investment, and so to prevent it from entering into the general process by which the general rate of profit is formed. Moreover, some of this surplus-value is actually collected in every industrial enterprise, since rent for the land used (by factory buildings, workhouses etc.) figures in every instance, for even where the land is available free, no factories are built, except in the more or less populated areas with good means of communication. Supposing the commodities produced by the poorest cultivated land belonged to category 3, i.e., those commodities whose average price equals their value, in other words, the whole of their inherent surplus-value is realised in their price because only thus do they yield the ordinary profit; in this case the land would pay no rent and land ownership would be purely nominal. If a payment were made for the use of the land, then it would only prove that small capitalists, as is partly the case in England (see Newman), are satisfied with making a profit below the average. The same applies whenever the rate of rent is higher than the difference between the inherent surplus-value of a commodity and the average profit. There is even land whose cultivation at most suffices to pay wages, for, although here the labourer works for himself the whole of his working-day, his labour-time is longer than the sociallynecessary labour-time. It is so unproductiverelative to the generally prevailing productivity in this branch of workthat, although the man works for himself for 12 hours, he hardly produces as much as a worker under more favourable conditions of production does in 8 hours. This is the same relationship as that of the hand-loom weaver who competes with the power-loom. Although the product of this hand-loom weaver was equal to 12 hours of labour, it was only equal to 8 or less hours of socially necessary labour and his product therefore only [had] the value of 8 necessary labour hours. If

in such an instance the cottager pays a rent then this is purely a deduction from his necessary wage and does not represent surplus-value, let alone an excess over and above average profit. Assume that in a country like the United States, the number of competing farmers is as yet so small and the appropriation of land so much just a matter of form that everyone has the opportunity to invest his capital in land and the cultivation of the soil, without the permission of hitherto-existing ownercultivators or farmers. In these circumstances it is possible over a considerable periodwith the exception of that landed property which by its very situation in populated areas carries a monopoly that the surplus-value which the farmer produces on top of average profit is not realised in the price of his product, but that lie may have to share it with his brother capitalists in the same way as this is done with the surplus-value of all commodities which would give an excess profit, i.e., raise the rate of profit above the general rate, if their surplus-value were realised in their price. In this case the general rate of profit would rise, because wheat, etc., like other manufactured commodities, would be sold below its value. This selling below its value would not constitute an exception, but rather would prevent wheat from forming an exception to other commodities in the same category. Secondly, assume that in a given country the land is all of a particular quality, so that if the whole of the surplus-value from the commodity were realised in its price, it would yield the usual profit on capital. In this case no rent would be paid. The absence of rent would in no way affect the general rate of profit, it would neither raise it nor lower it, just as it is not influenced by the fact that other non-agricultural products are to be found in this category. Since the commodities belong to this category just because their inherent surplus-value equals the average profit [they] cannot alter the level of this profit, on the contrary they conform with it and do not influence it at all, although it influences them. Thirdly, assume that all the land consists of a particular type of soil, but this is so poor that the capital employed in it is so unproductive that its product belongs to that kind of commodity whose surplusvalue [lies] below average profit. Since wages would rise everywhere as a result of the unproductiveness of agriculture, surplus-value could in this case of course only be higher where absolute labour-time can be prolonged, where the raw material, such as iron, etc., is not the product of agriculture or, further, where it [is] like cotton, silk etc., an imported article and a product of more fertile soil. In this case, the price of the [agricultural] commodity would include a surplus-value higher than that inherent in it, to enable it to yield the usual profit. The general rate of profit would consequently fall, despite the absence of rent. Or assume in case 2, that the soil is very unproductive. Then surplus-value of this agricultural product, by its very equality with average profit would show that the latter is altogether low since in agriculture perhaps 11 of the 12 working hours are required to produce just the wages, and the surplus-value only equals 1 hour or less. ||456| These various examples illustrate the following: In the first case, the absence or lack of rent is bound up with, or concurs with, an increased rate of profitas compared with other countries where the phenomenon of rent has developed.

In the second case the lack or absence of rent does not affect the rate of profit at all. In the third case, compared with other countries where rent exists, it is bound up with and indicative of a low, a relatively low, general rate of profit. It follows from this that the development of a particular rent in itself has nothing to do with the productivity of agricultural labour, since the absence or lack of rent can be associated with a rising, falling or constant rate of profit. The question here is not: Why is the excess surplus-value above average profit retained in agriculture etc.? On the contrary, we should rather ask: Why should the opposite take place here? Surplus-value is nothing other than unpaid labour; the average or normal profit is nothing other than the quantity of unpaid labour which each capital of a given magnitude of value is supposed to realise. If we say that average profit is 10 per cent then this means nothing other than that a capital of 100 commands 10 units of unpaid labour; or 100 units of materialised labour command a tenth of their amount in unpaid labour. Thus excess of surplus-value over average profit implies that a commodity ( its price or that part of its price which consists of surplus-value) contains a quantity of unpaid labour [hich is] greater than the quantity of unpaid labour that forms average profit, which therefore in the average price of the commodities forms the excess of their price over the costs of their production. In each individual commodity the costs of production represent the capital advanced, and the excess over these production costs represents the unpaid labour which the advanced capital commands; hence the relationship of this excess in price over the costs of production shows the rate at which a given capital employed in the production process of commoditiescommands unpaid labour, irrespective of whether the unpaid labour contained in the commodity of the particular sphere of production is equal to this rate or not. Now what forces the individual capitalist, for instance, to sell his commodity at an average price, which yields him only the average profit and makes him realise less unpaid labour than is in fact worked into his own commodity? This average price is thrust upon him; it is by no means the result of his own free will; he would prefer to sell the commodity above its value. It is forced upon him by the competition of other capitals. For every capital of the same size could also be rushed into A, the branch of production in which the relationship of unpaid labour to the invested capital, for instance, 100, is greater than in production spheres B, C, etc. whose products also satisfy a social need just as much as the commodities of production sphere A. When there are spheres of production in which certain natural conditions of production, such as, for example, arable land, coal seams, iron mines, water falls, etc.without which the production process cannot be carried out, without which commodities cannot be produced in this sphereare in the hands of others than the proprietors or owners of the materialised labour, the capitalists, then this second type of proprietor of the conditions of production will say: If I let you have this condition of production for your use, then you will make your average profit; you will appropriate the normal quantity of unpaid labour. But your production yields an excess of surplus-

value, of unpaid labour, above the rate of profit. This excess you will not throw into the common account, as is usual with you capitalists, but I am going to appropriate it myself. It belongs to me. This transaction should suit you, because your capital yields you just the same in this sphere of production as in any other and besides, this is a very solid branch of production. Apart from the 10 per cent unpaid labour which constitutes the average profit, your capital will also provide a further 20 per cent of additional unpaid labour here. This you will pay over to me and in order to do so, you add 20 per cent unpaid labour to the price of the commodity, and this you simply do not account for with the other capitalists. Just as your ownership of one condition of productioncapital, materialised labour enables you to appropriate a certain quantity of unpaid labour from the workers, so my ownership of the other condition of production, the land, etc., enables me to intercept and divert away from you and the entire capitalist class, that part of unpaid labour which is excessive to your average profit. Your law will have it that under normal circumstances, capitals of equal size appropriate equal quantities of unpaid labour and you capitalists can force each other ||457| into this position by competition among yourselves. Well, I happen to be applying this law to you. You are not to appropriate any more of the unpaid labour of your workers than you could with the same capital in any other sphere of production. But the law has nothing to do with the excess of unpaid labour which you have produced over the normal quota. Who is going to prevent me from appropriating this excess? Why should I act according to your custom and throw it into the common pot of capital to be shared out among the capitalist class, so that everyone should draw out a part of it in accordance with his share in the aggregate capital? I am not a capitalist. The condition of production which I allow you to utilise is not materialised labour but a natural phenomenon. Can you manufacture land or water or mines or coal pits? Certainly not. The means of compulsion which can be applied to you in order to make you release again a part of the surplus-labour you have managed to get hold of does not exist for me. So out with it! The only thing your brother capitalists can do is to compete against you, not against me. If you pay me less excess profit than the difference between the surplus-time you have made and the quota of surplus-labour due to you according to the rule of capital, your brother capitalists will appear on the scene and by their competition will force you to pay me fairly the full amount I have the power to squeeze out of you. The following problems should now be set forth: 1. The transition from feudal landownership to a different form, commercial land rent, regulated by capitalist production, or, on the other hand, the conversion of this feudal landed property into free peasant property. 2. How rent comes into existence in countries such as the United States, where originally land has not been appropriated and where, at any rate in a formal sense, the bourgeois mode of production prevails from the beginning. 3. The Asiatic forms of landownership still in existence. But all this does not belong here. According to this theory then, the private ownership of objects of nature such as the land, water, mines etc., the ownership of these conditions of production, this essential ingredient of production emanating from nature, is not a source from which flows value, since value is only materialised labour. Neither is it the source from which excess surplus-value flows, i.e., an excess of unpaid labour over and above the unpaid labour contained in profit. This ownership is, however, a source of revenue. It is a claim, a means, which in the sphere of production that the property enters as a condition of production enables

the owner to appropriate that part of the unpaid labour squeezed out by the capitalist which would otherwise be tossed into the general capital fund as excess over normal profit. This ownership is a means of obstructing the process which takes place in the rest of the capitalist spheres of production, and of holding on to the surplus-value created in this particular sphere, so that it is divided between the capitalist and the landowner in that sphere of production itself. In this way landed property, like capital, constitutes a claim to unpaid labour, gratis labour. And just as with capital, the workers materialised labour appears as a power over him, so with landed property, the circumstance which enables the landowners to take part of the unpaid labour away from the capitalists, makes landownership appear as a source of value. This then explains the existence of modern ground-rent. With a given capital investment, the variation in the amount of rent is only to be explained by the varying fertility of the land. The variation in the amount of rent, given equal fertility, can only be case, rent rises because its rate increases in proportion to the explained by the varying amount of capital invested, In the first capital employed(also according to the area of the land). In the second case, it rises because with the same or even with a different rate (if the second dose of capital is not equally productive) the amount of rent increases. For this theory it is immaterial whether the least fertile land yields a rent or not. Further, it is by no means necessary for the fertility of agriculture to decline, although the diversity in productivity, if not artificially overcome (which is possible), is much greater than in similar spheres of industrial production. When we speak of greater or lesser fertility, we are still concerned with the same product. The relationship of the various products, one to another, is another question. Rent as calculated on the land itself is the rental, the amount of rent. It can rise without an increase in the rate of rent. If the value of money remains unchanged, then the relative value of agricultural products can rise, not because agriculture is becoming less productive, but because, although its productivity is rising, it is rising slower than in industry. On the other hand, a rise in the money price of agricultural products, while the value of money remains the same, is only possible if their value rises, i.e., if agriculture becomes less productive (provided it is not caused by temporary pressure of demand upon supply as with other commodities). In the cotton industry, the price of the raw material fell continuously with the development of the industry itself; the same applies to iron, etc., coal, etc. The growth of rent here was possible, not because its rate rose, but only because more capital was employed. Ricardo is of the following opinion: The powers of nature, such as air, light, electricity, steam, water are gratis; the land is not, because it is limited. So already for this reason alone, agriculture is less productive than other industries. If the land were just as common, unappropriated, available in any quantities, as the other elements and powers of nature, then it would be much more productive. ||458| In the first place, if the land were so easily available, at everyones free disposal, then a principal element for the formation of capital would be missing. A most important condition of production and apart from man himself and his labourthe only original condition of production could not be disposed of, could not be appropriated. It could not thus confront the worker as someone elses property and

make him into a wage-labourer. The productivity of labour in Ricardos sense, i.e., in the capitalist sense, the producing of someone elses unpaid labour would thus become impossible. And this would put an end to capitalist production altogether. So far as the powers of nature indicated by Ricardo are concerned, it is true that these are partly to be had for nothing and do not cost the capitalist anything. Coal costs him something, but steam costs him nothing so long as he gets water gratis. But now, for example, let us take steam. The properties of steam always exist. Its industrial usefulness is a new scientific discovery which the capitalist has appropriated. As a consequence of this scientific discovery, the productivity of labour and with it relative surplus-value rose. In other words, the quantity of unpaid labour which the capitalist appropriated from a days labour grew with the aid of steam. The difference between the productive power of steam and that of the soil is thus only that the one yields unpaid labour to the capitalist and the other to the landowner, who does not take it away from the worker, but from the capitalist. The capitalist is therefore so enthusiastic about this element belonging to no one. Only this much is correct: Assuming the capitalist mode of production, then the capitalist is not only a necessary functionary, but the dominating functionary in production. The landowner, on the other hand, is quite superfluous in this mode of production. Its only requirement is that land should not be common property, that it should confront the working class as a condition of production, not belonging to it, and the purpose is completely fulfilled if it becomes state-property, i.e., if the state draws the rent. The landowner, such an important functionary in production in the ancient world and in the Middle Ages, is a useless superfetation in the industrial world. The radical bourgeois (with an eye moreover to the suppression of all other taxes) therefore goes forward theoretically to a refutation of the private ownership of the land, which, in the form of state property, he would like to turn into the common property of the bourgeois class, of capital. But in practice he lacks the courage, since an attack on one form of propertya form of the private ownership of a condition of labourmight cast considerable doubts on the other form. Besides, the bourgeois has himself become an owner of land.

[4. Rodbertuss Thesis that in Agriculture Raw Materials Lack Value Is Fallacious] Now to Herr Rodbertus. According to Rodbertus, no raw material enters into agricultural calculations, because, so Rodbertus assures us, the German peasant does not reckon that seeds, feeding stuffs, etc. cost him anything. He does not count these as costs of production; in fact he miscalculates. In England, where the farmer has been doing his accounts correctly for more than 150 years, there should accordingly be no groundrent. The conclusion therefore should not be the one drawn by Rodbertus, that the farmer pays a rent because his rate of profit is higher than in manufacture, but that he pays it because, as a result of a miscalculation, he is satisfied with a lower rate of profit. Dr. Quesnay, himself the son of a tenant farmer and closely acquainted with French farming, would not have received this idea kindly. [In his Tableau Economique], Quesnay includes the raw material which the tenant farmer needs, as one of the items in the annual outlay of 1,000 million, although the farmer reproduces it in kind.

Although hardly any fixed capital or machinery is to be found in one section of manufacture, in another sectionthe entire transport industry, the industry which produces change of location, [using] wagons, railways, ships, etc.there is no raw material but only tools of production. Do such branches of industry yield a rent apart from profit? How does this branch of industry differ from, say, the mining industry? In both of them only machinery and auxiliary materials are used, such as coal for steamships and locomotives and mines, fodder for horses, etc. Why should the rate of profit be calculated differently in one sector than in the other? [Supposing] the advances to production which the peasant makes in kind are a fifth of the total capital he advances, to which we would then have to add four-fifths in advances for the purchase of machinery and labour-power, the total expenditure amounting to 150 quarters. If he then makes 10 per cent profit [this would be] equal to 15 quarters, i.e., the gross product would be 165 quarters. If he now deducted a fifth, equal to 30 quarters and calculated the 15 quarters only on 120, then he would have made a profit of 12 1/2 per cent. Alternatively, we could put it in this way: The value of his product, or his product, is equal to 165 quarters ( 330). He reckons his advances to be 120 quarters ( 240), 10 percent on this equals 12 quarters ( 24). But his gross product amounts to 165 quarters; from which thus 132 quarters are to be deducted, which leaves 33 quarters. But from these, 30 quarters are deducted in kind. This leaves an extra profit of 3 quarters ( 6). His total profit is 15 quarters ( 30) instead of 12 quarters ( 24). So he can pay a rent of 3 quarters or 6 and fancy that he has made a profit of 10 per cent like every other capitalist. But this 10 per cent exists only in his imagination. In fact, he has made advances of 150 quarters, not of 120 quarters and on these, 10 per cent amounts to 15 quarters or 30. In fact he received 3 quarters too few, i.e., a quarter of the 12 quarters which he actually received ||459| , or a fifth of the total profit which he should have received, because he did not consider a fifth of his advances to be advances. Therefore, as soon as he learnt to calculate according to capitalist methods, he would cease to pay rent, which would merely amount to the difference between his rate of profit and the normal rate of profit. In other words, the product of unpaid labour embodied in the 165 quarters amounts to 15 quarters, which equals 30, representing 30 labour weeks. Now if these 30 labour weeks or 15 quarters or 30 were calculated on the total advances of 150 quarters, then they would only form 10 per cent; if they were calculated only on 120 quarters, then they would represent a higher percentage, because 10 per cent on 120 quarters would be 12 quarters and 15 quarters are not 10 per cent of 120 quarters but 12 1/2 per cent. In other words: Since the peasant did not include some of his advances in the account as a capitalist would have done, he calculates the accumulated surplus-labour on too small a portion of his advances. Hence it represents a higher rate of profit than in other branches of industry and can therefore yield a rent which is based solely on a miscalculation. The game would be over if the peasant realised that it is by no means necessary first to convert his advances into real money, i.e., to sell them, in order to assess them in money, and hence to regard them as commodities. Without this mathematical error (which may be committed by a large number of German peasants but never by a capitalist farmer) Rodbertuss rent would be an impossibility. It only becomes possible where raw material enters into costs of production, but not where it does not. It only becomes feasible where the raw material enters [into production] without entering into the accounts, But it is not

possible where it does not enter [into production], although Herr Rodbertus wants to derive his explanation of the existence of rent not from a miscalculation, but from the absence of a real item of expenditure. Take the mining industry or the fisheries. Raw material does not figure in these, except as auxiliary material, which we can omit, since the use of machinery always implies (with very few exceptions) the consumption of auxiliary material, the food of the machine. Assuming that the general rate of profit is 10 per cent and 100 are laid out in machinery and wages; why should the profit on 100 amount to more than 10, because the 100 have not been expended on raw material, machinery and wages, but have been expended on raw material and wages only? If there is to be any sort of difference, this could only arise because in the various instances, the ratio of the values of constant capital and variable capital is in fact different. This varying ratio would result in varying surplus-value, even if the rate of surplusvalue is taken to be constant. And if varying surplus-values are related to capitals of equal size, they must of course yield unequal profits. But on the other hand the general rate of profit means nothing other than the equalisation of these inequalities, abstraction from the organic components of capital and redistribution of surplus-value, so that capitals of equal size yield equal profits. That the amount of surplus-value depends on the size of the capital employed does not hold good according to the general laws of surplus-valuefor capitals in different spheres of production, but for different capitalsin the same sphere of production, in which it is assumed that the organic component parts of capital are in the same proportion. If one says for example: The volume of profit in spinning corresponds to the size of the capitals employed (which is also not quite correct, unless one adds that productivity is assumed to be constant), this in fact merely means that, given the rate of exploitation of the spinners, the total amount of exploitation depends on the number of exploited spinners. If, on the other hand, one says that the volume of profit in different branches of production corresponds to the size of the capitals employed, then this means that the rate of profit is the same for each capital of a given size, i.e., the volume of profit can only change with the size of this capital. In other words, the rate of profit is independent of the organic relationship of the components of a capital in a particular sphere of production; it is altogether independent of the amount of surplusvalue which is realised in these particular spheres of production. Mining production ought to be considered right from the start as belonging to industry and not to agriculture. Why? Because no product of the mine is used, in kind, as an element of production; no product of the mine enters in kind, straight from the mine, into the constant capital of the mining industry (the same applies to fishing and hunting, where the outlay consists to a still higher degree of the instruments of labour and wages or labour itself ||460|). In other words, because every production element in the mineeven if its raw material originates in the mine not only alters its form, but becomes a commodity, i.e., it must be bought, before it can re-enter mining as an element of production. Coal forms the only exception to this, But it only appears as a means of production at a stage of development when the exploiter of the mine has graduated as a capitalist, who uses double entry book-keeping, in which he not only owes himself his advances, i.e., is a debtor against his own funds, but his own funds are debtors against themselves, Thus just here, where in fact no raw material

figures in expenditure, capitalist accounting must prevail from the outset, making the illusion of the peasant impossible . Now let us take manufacture itself, and in particular that section where all the elements of the labourprocess are also elements in the process of the creation of value; i.e., where all the production elements enter into the production of the new commodity as items of expenditure, as use-values that have a value, as commodities. There is a considerable difference between the manufacturer who produces the first intermediate product and the second and all those that follow in the process towards the finished product. The raw material of the latter type of manufacturers enters the production process not only as a commodity, but is already a commodity of the second degree; it has already taken on a different form from the first commodity, which was a raw product in its natural form, it has already passed through a second phase of the production process. For example, the spinner: His raw material is cotton, a raw product which is already a commodity. The raw material of the weaver however is the yarn produced by the spinner; that of the printer or dyer is the woven fabric, the product of the weaver; and all these products, which reappear as raw materials in further phases of the process are at the same time commodities. |460|| ||461| We seem to have returned here to the question with which we have already been concerned on two other occasions, once when discussing John Stuart Mill, and again during the general analysis of the relationship between constant capital and revenue. The continual recurrence of this question shows that there is still a hitch somewhere. Really this belongs into Chapter III on profit. But it fits in better here. For example: 4,000 lbs. cotton equals 100; 4,000 lbs. yarn equals 200; 4,000 yards calico equals 400. On the basis of this assumption, 1 lb. cotton = 6d., yarn = 1s., 1 yard [calico] = 2s. Given a rate of profit of 10 per cent, then A in 100, the outlay = 90 10/11 and the profit = 9 1/11 B in 200, the outlay = 181 9/11 and the profit = 18 2/11 C in 400, the outlay = 363 7/11 and the profit = 36 4/11 A = cotton [the product of the] peasant (I); B = yarn [the product of the] spinner (II), C = woven fabric [the product of the] weaver (III).

Under this assumption it does not matter whether As 90 10/11 itself includes a profit or not. It will not do so if it constitutes self-replacing constant capital. It is equally irrelevant for B, whether the 100 [the value of product A] includes profit or not, and ditto with C in relation to B. The relationship of C (the cotton-grower) or I, of S (spinner) or II and of W (weaver) or III is as follows: I) II) Outlay = 9010/11 Outlay = 100 (I) + 819/11 Profit = 9 1/11 Profit = 18 2/11 Profit = 36 4/11 Total = 100 Total = 200 Total = 400

III) Outlay = 200 (II) + 1637/11 The grand total equals 700.

Profit equals 9 1/11 + 18 2/11 + 36 4/11 [=637/11] Capital advanced in all three sections: 90 10/11 + 181 9/11 + 363 7/11 = 636 4/11 Excess of 700 over 636 4/11 = 63 7/11. But [the ratio of] 63 7/11 : 636 4/11 is as 10 : 100. Continuing to analyse this rubbish, we obtain the following: I) Outlay = 90 10/11 Profit = 9 1/11 Profit = 10+8 2/11 Profit = 20+16 4/11 Total = 100 Total = 200 Total = 400

II) Outlay = 100 (I) + 81 9/11 III) Outlay = 200 (II) + 163 7/11

I does not have to repay any profit, because it is assumed that his constant capital of 9010/11 does not include any profit, but represents purely constant capital. The entire product of I figures as constant capital in IIs outlay. That part of constant capital which equals 100 yields a profit of 9 1/11 to I. The entire product *of+ II which amounts to 200, enters into IIIs outlay, and thus yields a profit of 18 2/11. However, this does not in any way alter the fact that Is profit is not one iota larger than IIs or IIIs, because the capital which he has to replace is smaller to the same degree and the profit corresponds to the volume of the capital, irrespective of the composition of the capital. Now let us assume that III produces everything himself. Then the position seems to change, because his outlay now appears as follows: 90 10/11 in the production of cotton; 181 9/11 in the production of yarn and 363 7/11 in the production of the woven fabric. He buys all three branches of production and must therefore continually employ a definite amount of constant capital in all three. If we now total this up we get: 90 10/11 + 181 9/11 + 363 7/11 = 636 4/11. 10 per cent of this is exactly 63 7/11, as above, only that one individual pockets the lot, whereas previously the 63 7/11 were shared among I, II and III.

||462| How did the wrong impression arise a little while ago? But first, one other comment. If from the 400, we deduct the profit of the weaver, which is included in it and which amounts to 36 4/11, then we are left with 400364/11 = 3637/11, his outlay. This outlay includes 200 paid out for yarn, Of these 200, 18 2/11are the profit of the spinner. If we now deduct these 18 2/11 from the outlay of 363 7/11, we are left with 345 5/11. But the 200 which are returnable to the spinner, also contain 9 1/11 profit for the cotton-grower. If we deduct these from the 345 5/11, we are left with 336 4/11. And if we deduct these 336 4/11 from the 400the total value of the woven fabricthen it becomes evident that it contains a profit of 63 7/11. But a profit of 63 7/11 on 336 4/11 is equal to 18 34/37 per cent. Previously we calculated these 63 7/11 on 636 4/11, and obtained a profit of 10 per cent. The excess of the total value of 700 over 636 4/11 was in fact 63 7/11. According to the present calculation, therefore, 18 34/37 per cent would be made on 100 of this same capital, whereas according to the previous calculation only 10 per cent. How does this tally? Supposing I, II and III are one and the same person, but that this individual does not employ three capitals simultaneously, one in cotton-growing, one in spinning and one in weaving. Rather, as soon as he ceases to grow cotton, he begins to spin it and as soon as he has spun, he finishes with this and begins to weave. Then his accounting would look like this: He invests 90 10/11 in cotton-growing. From this he obtains 4,000 lbs. of cotton, In order to spin these he needs to lay out a further 81 9/11 in machinery, auxiliary materials and wages. With this he makes the 4,000 lbs. of yarn. Finally he weaves these into 4,000 yards which involves him in a further outlay of 163 7/11. If he now adds up his expenditure, the capital which he has advanced amounts to 90 10/11 + 81 9/11 + 163 7/11, i.e., 3364/11. 10 per cent on this would be 33 7/11, because 336 4/11 : 33 7/11 is as 100 : 10. But 336 4/11 + 33 7/11 = 370. He would thus sell the 4,000 yards at 370 instead of at 400, i.e., at 30 less, i.e., at a price which is 71/2 per cent lower than before. If the value indeed were 400, he could thus sell at the usual profit of 10 per cent and in addition pay a rent of 30, because his rate of profit would not be 33 7/11 but 63 7/11 on his advances of 336 4/11, i.e., 18 34/37 per cent, as we saw earlier on. And this in fact appears to be the manner in which Herr Rodbertus makes out his calculation of rent. What does the fallacy consist of? First of all it is evident that if spinning and weaving are combined, they should [according to Rodbertus] yield a rent, just as if spinning is combined with cultivation or if agriculture is carried on independently.

Evidently two different problems are involved here. Firstly we are calculating the 63 7/11 only on one capital of 336 4/11, whereas we should be calculating it on three capitals of a total value of 636 4/11. Secondly in the last capital, that of III, we are reckoning his outlay to be 336 4/11, instead of 363 7/11. Let us go into these points separately. Firstly: If III, II and I are united in one person, and if he spins up the entire product of his cotton harvest, then he does not use any part of this harvest at all to replace his agricultural capital. He does not employ part of his capital in ||463| cotton-growingin expenditure on cotton-growing, seeds, wages, machineryand another part in spinning, but he first puts a part of his capital into cotton-growing, then this part plus a second into spinning, and then the whole of these two first parts, now existing in the form of yarn, plus a third part, into weaving. Now when the fabric of 4,000 yards has been woven, how is he to replace its elements? While he was weaving he wasnt spinning, and he had no material from which to spin; while he was spinning he did not grow any cotton. Therefore his elements of production cannot be replaced. To help ourselves along, let us say: Well, the fellow sells the 4,000 yards and then buys yarn and the elements of cotton out of the 400. Where does this get us? To a position where we are in fact assuming that three capitals are simultaneously employed and engaged and laid out in production. But yarn cannot be bought unless it is available and in order to buy cotton it must be available as well. And so that they are available to replace the woven yarn and the spun cotton, simultaneously with the capital employed in weaving, capitals must be invested which are turned into cotton and yarn at the same time as the yarn is turned into woven fabric. Thus, whether III combines all three branches of production or whether three producers share them, three capitals must be available simultaneously. If he wants to produce on the same scale, he cannot carry on spinning and cotton-growing with the same capital which he used for weaving. Every one of these capitals is engaged and their reciprocal replacement does not affect the problem under discussion. The replacement capitals are the constant capital which must be invested and operating in each of the three branches simultaneously. If the 400 contain a profit of 6 37/11, then this is only because besides his own profit of 36 4/11, we allow III to gather in the profit which he has to pay to II and I and which, according to the assumption, is realised in his commodity. But the profit was not made on his 363 7/11. The peasant made it on his additional 90 10/11 and the spinner on his 1819/11. When he pockets the whole amount himself, he likewise has not made it on the 363 7/11 that he invested in weaving, but on this capital and on his two other capitals invested in spinning and cottongrowing. Secondly: If we reckon IIIs outlay to be 3364/11 instead of 3637/11, then this arises from the following: We take his outlay on cotton-growing to be only 90 10/11 instead of 100, But he needs the whole product and this equals 100 and not 90 10/11. It contains the profit of 9 1/11. Or else he would be employing a capital of 90 10/11 which would bring him no profit. His cotton-growing would yield him no

profit but would just replace his expenditure of 90 10/11. In the same way, spinning would not bring him any profit, but the whole of the product would only replace his outlay. In this case, his expenditure would indeed be reduced to 90 10/11 + 81 9/11 + 163 7/11 = 336 4/11. This would be the capital he has advanced. 10 per cent on this would be 33 7/11. And the value of the product would be 370. The value would not be one farthing higher because, according to the supposition, portions I and II have not brought in any profit. Accordingly III would have done much better to leave I and II well alone and to keep to the old method of production. For instead of the 63 7/11 which were previously at the disposal of I, II and III, III now has only 33 7/11 for himself whereas previously, when his fellows were alongside of him, he had 36 4/11. He would indeed be a very bad hand at business. He would only have saved an outlay of 9 1/11 in II because he had made no profit in I, and he would have saved an outlay of 182/11 in III, by not making a profit in II. The 9010/11 in cottongrowing and the 81 9/11 + 90 10/11 in spinning would both have only replaced themselves. Only the third capital of 90 10/11 + 81 9/11 + 163 7/11 invested in weaving, would have yielded a profit of 10 per cent. This would mean that [] 100 would yield 10 per cent profit in weaving, but not one farthing in spinning and cotton-growing. This would be very pleasant for III, so long as I and II are persons other than himself, but by no means so, if, in order to save these petty profits and pocket them himself, he has united these three branches of business in one and the same person, namely, his worthy self. The saving of advances for profit (or that component part of the ||464| constant capital of one capitalist which is profit for the others) arose therefore from the fact that [the products of] I and II contained no profits and that I and II performed no surplus-labour but regarded themselves merely as wage-labourers who only had to replace their costs of production, i.e., the outlay in constant capital and wages. Thus, in these circumstancesprovided I and II were not prepared to work for III, since if they did, profit would go to his accountless labour would have been done in any case, and it would not matter to III whether the work for which he has to pay is only laid out in wages, or in wages and profit. This is all the same to him, in so far as he buys and pays for the product, the commodity. Whether constant capital is wholly or partially replaced in kind, in other words, whether it is replaced by the producers of the commodity for which it serves as constant capital, is of no consequence. First of all, all constant capital must in the end be replaced in kind: machinery by machinery, raw material by raw material, auxiliary material by auxiliary material. In agriculture, constant capital may also enter as a commodity, i.e., be mediated directly by purchase and sale. In so far as organic substances enter into reproduction, the constant capital must of course be replaced by products of the same sphere of production. But it need not be replaced by the individual producers within this sphere of production. The more agriculture develops, the more all its elements enter into it as commodities, not just formally, but in actual fact. In other words, they come from outside, for instance, seeds, fertilisers, cattle, animal substances, etc., are the products of other producers. In industry, for example, the continual movement to and fro of iron into the machine shop and machines into the iron mines, is just as constant as is the movement of wheat from the granary to the land and from the land to the granary of the farmer. The products in agriculture are replaced directly. Iron cannot replace machines, But iron, to the value of the machine, replaces the machine for one [producer], and [the machine replaces] the iron for the other, in so far as the value of his machine is replaced by iron.

It is difficult to see what difference it is supposed to make to the rate of profit if the peasant, who lays out the 90 10/11 on a product of 100, were to compute that, for instance, he spends 20 on seeds etc., 20 on machinery etc., and 50 10/11 on wages. What he wants is a profit of 10 per cent on the total sum. The 20 of the product which he sets against seeds do not include any profit. Nevertheless, this is just as much 20 as the 20 in machinery, in which there may be a profit of 10 per cent, although this may be only formal. In actual fact the 20 in machinery, like the 20 in seeds, may not contain a single farthing of profit. This is the case if these 20 are merely a replacement for components of the machine builders constant capital, which he draws from agriculture, for instance. Just as it would be wrong to say that all machinery goes into agriculture as its constant capital, so it is incorrect to say that all raw material goes into manufacture. A very large part of it remains fixed in agriculture and only represents a reproduction of constant capital. Another part of it goes directly into revenue in the form of food and some of it, like fruit, fish, cattle etc., does not undergo a manufacturing process at all. It would therefore be incorrect to burden industry with the entire bill for all the raw materials manufactured by agriculture. Of course in those branches of manufacture where the raw material features as an advance, alongside wages and machinery, the capital advanced must be greater than in those branches of agriculture which supply the raw material used. It could also be assumed that if these branches of manufacture had their own rate of profit (different from the general rate) it would be smaller here than in agriculture because less labour is employed. For, with a given rate of surplus-value, more constant capital and less variable capital necessarily bring in a lower rate of profit. This, however, applies equally to certain branches of manufacture as against others and to certain branches of agriculture (in the economic sense) as against others. It is in fact least likely to occur in agriculture proper, because, although it supplies raw material to industry, it differentiates between raw materials, machinery and wages in its own expenditure account, but industry by no means pays agriculture for the raw material, i.e., for that part of constant capital which it replaces from within itself and not by exchange with industrial products.

[5. Wrong Assumptions in Rodbertuss Theory of Rent] ||465| Now to a brief resum of Herr Rodbertus. First he describes the situation as he imagines it, where the owner of the land is at the same time the capitalist and slave-owner. Then there comes a separation. That part of the product of labour which has been taken from the workersthe one natural rentis now split up into rent of land and capital gain (*Rodbertus, Sociale Briefe an von Kirchmann. Dritter Brief, Berlin, 1851,] pp. 81 82). (Mr. Hopkinssee notebookexplains this in even more simple and blunt terms.) Then Herr Rodbertus divides the raw product and manufactured product (p.89) between the landowner and the capitalistpetitio principii. One capitalist produces raw products and the other manufactured products. The landowner produces nothing, neither is he the owner of raw products. That *i.e., that the landowner is the owner of raw products+ is the conception of a German

landed proprietor such as Herr Rodbertus is. In England, capitalist production began simultaneously in manufacture and in agriculture. How a rate of capital gain (rate of profit) comes about, is explained by Herr Rodbertus purely from the fact that money now provides a measure of gain, making it possible to express the relationship of gain to capital (p. 94) and thus supplying a standard gauge for the equalisation of capital gains (p. 94). He has not even a remote idea that this uniformity of profit is in contradiction to the equality of rent and unpaid labour in each branch of production, and that therefore the values of commodities and the average prices must differ. This rate of profit also becomes the norm in agriculture because the return on property cannot be calculated upon anything other than capital (p. 95) and by far the larger part of the national capital is employed (p. 95) in manufacture. Not a word about the fact that with the advent of capitalist production, agriculture itself is revolutionised, not only in a formal sense but really, and the landowner is reduced to a mere receptacle, ceasing to fulfil any function in production. According to Rodbertus in manufacture, the value of the entire product of agriculture is included in the capital as raw material, whereas this cannot be the case in primary production (p. 95). The entire bit is incorrect. Rodbertus now asks himself whether apart from the industrial profit, the profit on capital, there remains a rent for the raw product, and if so for what reasons (p. 96). He even assumes that the raw product like the manufactured product exchanges according to its labour costs, that the value of the raw product is only equal to its labour cost (p. 96). True, as Rodbertus says, Ricardo also assumes this. But it is wrong, at least prima facie, since commodities do not exchange according to their values, but at average prices, which differ from their values, and this, moreover, is a consequence of the apparently contradictory law, the determination of the value of commodities by labour-time. If the raw product carried a rent apart from and distinct from average profit, this would only be possible if the raw product were not sold at the average price and why this happens would then have to be explained. But let us see how Rodbertus operates. I have assumed that the rent (the surplus-value, the unpaid labour-time) is distributed according to the v a l u e of the raw product and the manufactured product, and that this value is determined by labour costs (labour-time) (pp. 9697). To begin with we must examine this first assumption. In fact this just means that the surplusvalues contained in the commodities are in the same proportion as their values, or, in other words, the unpaid labour contained in the commodities is proportionate to the total quantities of labour they contain. If the quantity of labour contained in the commodities A and B is as 3 : 1, then the unpaid labouror surplus-valuescontained in them is as 3 : 1. Nothing could be further from the truth. Given the necessary labour-time, for instance 10 hours, one commodity may be the product of 30

workers while the other is the product of 10. If the 30 workers only work 12 hours, then the surplusvalue created by them [amounts to] 60 hours, which is 5 days (512), and if the 10 [others] work 16 hours a day, then the surplus-value created by them is also 60 hours. According to this, the value of product A would be 3012 = 1203 = 360 [working hours] which is 30 working days <12 hours are 1 working day>. And the value of commodity B would be equal to 160 working hours which is 13 1/3 working days. The values of commodities A and B [are as] 360 : 160, as 36 : 16, as 9 : 4, as 3 : 1 1/3. The surplus-values contained in the commodities, however, are as 60 : 60 = 1 : 1. They are equal, although the values are as 3 : 1 1/3. ||466| [Firstly] therefore, the surplus-values of the commodities are not proportionate to their values, if the absolute surplus-values, the extension of labour-time beyond the necessary labour, i.e., the rates of surplus-value, are different. Secondly, assuming the rates of surplus-value to be the same, and leaving aside other factors connected with circulation and the reproductive process, then the surplus-values are not dependent on the relative quantities of labour contained in the two commodities, but on the proportion of the part of capital laid out in wages to the part which is laid out in constant capital, raw material and machinery. And this proportion can be entirely different with commodities of equal values, whether they be agricultural products or products of manufacture, which in any case has nothing to do with this business, at least not on the face of it. Rodbertuss first assumption, that, if the values of commodities are determined by labour-time, it follows that the quantities of unpaid labour contained in various commoditiesor their surplus-values are directly related to their values is therefore fundamentally wrong. It is therefore also incorrect to say that rent is distributed according to the value of the raw product and the manufactured product, if this value is determined by labour costs(pp. 9697). Of course it follows from this that the size of these portions of rent is not determined by the size of the capital on which the gain is calculated, but by the direct labour, whether it be agricultural or manufacturing + that amount of labour which must be added on account of the wear and tear of tools and machines (p. 97). Wrong again. The volume of surplus-value (and in this case surplus-value is the rent, since rent is here regarded as the general term, as opposed to profit and ground-rent) depends only on the immediate labour involved and not on the depreciation of fixed capital. Just as it does not depend on the value of the raw material or indeed on any part of the constant capital. The wear and tear does, of course, determine the rate at which fixed capital must be reproduced. (At the same time, its production depends on the formation of new capital, on the accumulation of capital.) But the surplus-labour which is performed in the production of fixed capital does not affect the sphere of production into which this fixed capital enters as such, any more than does the surplus-labour which goes into the production of, say, the raw materials. It is rather equally valid for all of them,

agriculture, production of machines and manufacture, that their surplus-value is determined only by the amount of labour employed, if the rate of surplus-value is given, and, by the rate of surplus-value, if the amount of labour employed is given. Herr Rodbertus seeks to drag in wear and tear in order to chuck out raw materials. On the other hand, Herr Rodbertus maintains that the size of the rent can never he influenced by that part of capital which consists of material value, since for instance, the labour cost of wool as a raw material cannot affect the labour cost of a particular product such as yarn or fabric (p. 97). The labour-time which is required for spinning and weaving is as much, or rather as little, dependent on the labour-time i.e., the valueof the machine, as it is on the labour-time which the raw material costs. Both machine and raw material enter into the labour process; neither of them enters into the process of creating surplus-value. On the other hand, the value of the primary product, or the material value, does figure as capital outlay in the capital upon which the owner has to calculate his gain, the part of the rent falling on the manufactured product. But in agricultural capital this part of capital is missing. Agriculture does not require any material which is the product of a previous production, in fact it actually begins the production, and in agriculture, that part of the property which is analogous with material, would be the land itself, which is however assumed to be without cost (pp. 9798). This is the conception of the German peasant. In agriculture (excluding mining, fishing, hunting but by no means stock-raising) seeds, feeding stuffs, cattle, mineral fertilisers etc. form the material for manufacturing and this material ||467| is the product of labour. This outlay grows proportionately to the development of industrialised agriculture. All productiononce we are no longer dealing with mere taking and appropriatingis reproduction and hence requires the product of a previous production as material. Everything which is the result of production is at the same time a prerequisite of production. And the more large-scale agriculture develops the more it buys products of a previous production and sells its own. In agriculture these expenses feature as commodities in a formal sense converted into commodities by being reckoned in moneyas soon as the farmer becomes at all dependent on the sale of his product; as soon as the prices of various agricultural products (like hay for example) have established themselves, for division of the spheres of production takes place in agriculture as well. Queer things must be happening in the mind of a peasant if lie reckons the quarter of wheat which he sells as income, but does not reckon the quarter which he puts into the soil as expenditure. Incidentally, Herr Rodbertus ought to try somewhere to begin the production, for instance of flax or silk, without products of a previous production. This is absolute nonsense. And therefore also the rest of Rodbertuss conclusions: The two parts of capital that influence the size of the rent are thus common to agriculture and industry. The part of capital, however, that does not influence the size of the rentbut on which gain, i.e., the rent determined by those parts of capital, is also calculatedis to be found in industrial capital alone. According to the assumption, the value of the raw product like that of the manufactured product is dependent on labour cost and since rent accrues to the owners of the primary product and of the

manufactured product proportionately to this value. Therefore the rent yielded in raw material production and industrial production is relative to the quantities of labour which the respective product has cost, but the capitals employed in agriculture and in industry, on which the rent is distributed as gainnamely in manufacture entirely, in agriculture according to the rate of gain prevailing in manufactureare not in the same proportion as those quantities of labour and the rent determined by them. Although an equal amount of rent accrues to the primary product and to the industrial product, industrial capital is larger than agricultural capital by the entire value of the raw material it contains. Since the value of this raw material augments the industrial capital on which the available rent is calculated as gain, but not the gain itself, and thus simultaneously helps to lower the rate of capital gain, which also prevails in agriculture, there must necessarily be left over in agriculture a part of the rent accruing there which is not absorbed by the calculation of gain based on this rate of gain (pp. 98 99). First wrong proposition: If industrial products and agricultural products exchange according to their values (i.e., in relation to the labour-time required for their production), then they yield to their owners equal amounts ofsurplus-value or quantities of unpaid labour. Surplus-values are not proportional to values. Second wrong proposition: Since Rodbertus presupposes a rate of profit (which he calls rate of capital gain) the supposition that commodities exchange in the proportion of t h e i r v a l u e s is incorrect. One proposition excludes the other. For a (general) rate of profit to exist, the values of the commodities must have been transformed into average prices or must be in the process of transformation. The particular rates of profit which are formed in every sphere of production on the basis of the ratio of surplus-value to capital advanced, are equalised in this general rate. Why then not in agriculture? That is the question. But Rodbertus does not even formulate this question correctly, because firstly he presupposes that there is a general rate of profit and secondly he assumes that the particular rates of profit (hence also their differences) are not equalised and thus that commodities exchange at their values. Third wrong proposition: The value of the raw material does not enter into agriculture. Rather here, the advances of seeds etc. are component parts of constant capital and are calculated as such by the farmer. To the same degree that agriculture becomes a mere branch of industryi.e., that capitalist production is established on the land ||468| to the degree to which agriculture produces for the market, produces commodities, articles for sale and not for its own consumptionto the same degree it calculates its outlay and regards each item of expenditure as a commodity, whether it buys it from itself (i.e., from production) or from a third person. The elements of production naturally become commodities to the same extent as the products do, because, after all, these elements are those very same products. Since wheat, hay, cattle, seeds of all kinds etc. are thus sold as commoditiesand, since this sale is the essential thing, not their use as a means of subsistencethey also enter into production as commodities and the farmer would have to be a real blockhead not to be able to use money as the unit of account. This is, however, only the formal aspect of the calculation. But simultaneously [the position] develops [in such a way] that the farmer buys his outlay, seeds, cattle, fertilisers, mineral substances etc. while he sells hisreceipts, so that for the individual farmer these advances are also

advances in the formal sense in that they are bought commodities. (They have always been commodities for him, component parts of his capital. And when he has returned them, in kind, to production, he has regarded them as sold to himself in his capacity as producer.) Moreover, this takes place to the same extent as agriculture develops and the final product is produced increasingly by industrial methods and according to the capitalist mode of production. It is therefore wrong to say that there is a part of capital which enters into industry but not into agriculture. Suppose then, according to Rodbertuss (false) proposition, that the portions of rent (i.e., shares of surplus-value) yielded by the agricultural product and the industrial product are given, and that they are proportionate to the values of the agricultural product and the industrial product. Supposing, in other words, industrial products and agricultural products of equal values yield equal surplus-values to their owners, i.e., contain equal quantities of unpaid labour, then no disparity arises owing to a part of capital entering into industry (for raw material) which does not enter into agriculture, so that, for instance, the same surplus-value would be calculated in industry on a capital augmented by this amount and hence result in a smaller rate of profit. For the same item of capital goes into agriculture. There only remains the question of whether it does so in the same proportion. But this brings us to mere quantitative differences whereas Herr Rodbertus wants a qualitative difference. These same quantitative differences occur between different industrial spheres of production. They compensate one another in the general rate of profit. Why not as between industry and agriculture (if there are such differences)? Since Herr Rodbertus allows agriculture to participate in the general rate of profit, why not in the process of its formation? But of course that would mean the end of his argument. Fourth wrong proposition: It is wrong and arbitrary of Rodbertus to include wear and tear of machinery etc., that is an element of Constant capital, in variable capital, that is, in the part of capital which creates surplus-value and in particular determines the rate of surplus-value, and at the same time, not to include raw material. He makes this accounting error in order to arrive at the result he wanted from the outset. Fifth wrong proposition: If Herr Rodbertus wants to differentiate between agriculture and industry, then that element of capital which consists of fixed capital such as machinery and tools belongs entirely to industry. This element of capital, in so far as it becomes part of any capital, can only enter into constant capital; and can never increase surplus-value by a single farthing. On the other hand, as a product of industry, it is the result of a particular sphere of production. Its price, or the value which it forms within the whole of social capital, at the same time represents a certain quantity of surplus-value (just as is the case with raw material). Now it does enter into the agricultural product, but it stems from industry. If Herr Rodbertus reckons raw material to be an element of capital in industry which comes from outside, then he must charge machines, tools, vessels, buildings etc. as an element of capital in agriculture, which comes from outside. He [must] therefore say that industry comprises only wages and raw materials (because fixed capital, in so far as it is not raw materials, is a product of industry, its own product) whereas agriculture comprises only wages ||469| and machinery

etc., i.e., fixed capital, because raw material, in so far as it is not embodied in tools etc., is the product of agriculture. It would then be necessary to examine how the absence of this item affects the account in industry. Sixthly: It is quite true that mining, fishing, hunting, forestry (in so far as the trees have not been planted by man) etc., in short, the extractive industriesconcerned with the extraction of raw material that is not reproduced in kinduse no raw materials, except auxiliary materials. This does not apply to agriculture. But it is equally [true] that the same does hold good for a very large part of industry, namely the transport industry, in which outlay consists only of machinery, auxiliary materials and wages. Finally, there are certainly other branches of industry, such as tailoring etc., which, relatively speaking, only absorb raw materials and wages, but no machinery, fixed capital etc. In all these instances, the size of the profit, i.e., the ratio of surplus-value to capital advanced, would not depend on whether the advanced capitalafter deduction of variable capital, or the part of capital spent on wagesconsists of machinery or raw material or both, but it would depend on the magnitude of the capital advanced relative to the part of the capital spent on wages. Different rates of profit (apart from the modifications brought about by circulation) would thus exist in the different spheres of production, the result of their equalisation being the general rate of profit. Rodbertus surmises that there is a difference between surplus-value and its special forms, in particular profit. But he misses the point because, right from the beginning, he is concerned with the explanation of a particularphenomenon (ground rent) and not [with] the establishment of a general law. Reproduction occurs in all branches of production; but only in agriculture does this industrial reproduction coincide with natural reproduction. It does not do so in extractive industry. That is why, in the latter, the product does not in its natural form become an element in its own reproduction (except in the form of auxiliary material). What distinguishes agriculture, stock-raising, etc. from other industries is, firstly, not the fact that a product becomes a means of production, since that happens to all industrial products which have not the definite form of individual means of subsistence. And even as such they become means of production of the producer who reproduces himself or maintains his labour-power by consuming them. Secondly, the difference is not the fact that agricultural products enter into production as commodities, i.e., as component parts of capital; they go into production just as they come out of it. They emerge from it as commodities and they re-enter it as commodities. The commodity is both the prerequisite and the result of capitalist production. Hence thirdly, there only [remains] the fact that they enter as their own means of production into the production process whose product they are. This is also the case with machinery. Machine builds machine. Coal helps to raise coal from the shaft. Coal transports coal etc. In agriculture this appears as

a natural process, guided by man, although he also causes it to some extent. In the other industries it appears to be a direct effect of industry. But Herr Rodbertus is on the wrong track altogether if he thinks that he must not allow agricultural products to enter into reproduction as commodities because of the peculiar way in which they enter it as use-values (technologically). He is evidently thinking of the time when agriculture was not as yet a trade, when only the excess of its production over what was consumed by the producer became a commodity and when even those products, in so far as they entered into production, were not regarded as commodities. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of the application of the capitalist mode of production to industry. For the capitalist mode of production, every product which has value and is therefore in itself a commodityalso figures as a commodity in the accounts.

[6. Rodbertuss Lack of Understanding of the Relationship Between Average Price and Value in Industry and Agriculture. The Law of Average Prices] Supposing, for example, that in the mining industry, the constant capital, which consists purely of machinery, amounts to 500 and that the capital laid out in wages also amounts to 500. Then, if the surplus-value is 40 per cent, i.e., 200, the profit [would be] 20 per cent. Thus: constant capital Machinery 500 500 200 variable capital surplus-value

If the same variable capital were laid out in those branches of manufacture (or of agriculture) in which raw materials play a part, and furthermore, if the utilisation of this variable capital (i.e, the employment of this particular number of workers) required machinery etc., to the value of 500, then indeed a third element, the value of the raw materials, would have to be added, say again, 500. Hence in this case: constant capital Machinery 500 Raw materials + 500 = 1,000 500 200 variable capital surplus-value

The 200 would now have to be reckoned on 1,500 and would only be 13 1/3 per cent. This example would still apply, if in the first case the transport industry had been quoted as an illustration. On the other hand, the rate of profit would remain the same in the second case if machinery cost 100 and raw materials 400.

||470| What, therefore, Herr Rodbertus imagines is that in industry 100 are laid out in machinery, 100 in wages and x in raw materials, whereas in agriculture 100 are laid out in wages and 100 in machinery. The scheme would be like this: I. Agriculture Constant capital Machinery 100 II. Industry Constant capital Raw materials x Machinery 100 [=x+100] 100 50

Variable capital


Rate of profit




/200 = 1/4

Variable capital


Rate of profit

/200 + x

It must therefore be, at any rate, less than 1/4, Hence the rent in I. Firstly then, this difference between agriculture and manufacture is imaginary, non-existent: it has no bearing on that form of rent which determines all others. Secondly, Herr Rodbertus could find this difference between the rates of profit in any two individual branches of industry. The difference is dependent on the proportion of constant capital to variable capital and the proportion in turn may or may not be determined by the addition of raw materials. In those branches of industry which use raw materials as well as machinery, the value of the raw materials, i.e., the relative share which they form of the total capital, is of course very important, as I have shown earlier. This has nothing to do with ground-rent. Only when the value of the raw product falls below the cost of labour is it possible that in agriculture too the whole portion of rent accruing to the raw product is absorbed in the gain calculated on capital. For then this portion of rent may be so reduced that although agricultural capital does not comprise the value of raw material, the ratio between these two is similar to that existing between the portion of rent accruing to the manufactured product and the manufacturing capital, although the latter contains the value of material, Hence only in those circumstances is it possible that in agriculture too, no rent is left over besides capital gain, But in so far as, in practice, as a rule, conditions gravitate towards the law that value equals labour cast, so, as a rule, ground-rent is also present. The absence of rent and the existence of nothing but capital gain, is not the original state of affairs, as Ricardo maintains, but only an exception (p. 100).

Thus, continuing with the above example; but taking raw materials as 100, to have something tangible, we get: I. Agriculture Constant capital Machinery 100 II. Industry Constant capital Raw materials 100 Variable capital Surplusvalue Value Price Profit 100 50 250 233 1/3 [331/3=] 162/3 per cent Variable capital Surplusvalue Value Price Profit

Machinery 100 100 50 350 350 50 = 162/3 per cent

Here the rate of profit in agriculture and industry would be the same, therefore nothing would be left over for rent, because the agricultural product is sold at 16 2/3 below its value. Even if the example were as correct as it is false for agriculture, then the circumstance that the value of the raw product falls below the cost of labour would in any case only correspond to the law of average prices. Rather it needs to be explained why as an exception this is to a certain extent not the case in agriculture and why here the total surplus-value (or at least to a larger extent than in the other branches of industry, a surplus above the average rate of profit) remains in the price of the product of this particular branch of production and does not participate in. the formation of the general rate of profit. It becomes evident here that Rodbertus does not understand what the (general) rate of profit and the average price are. In order to make this law quite clear, and this is far more important than Rodbertus, we shall take five examples. We assume the rate of surplus-value to be the same throughout. It is not at all necessary to compare commodities of equal value; they are to be compared only at their value. To simplify matters, the commodities compared here are taken as produced by capitals of equal size. ||471| Constant Capital Variable Capital Surplusvalue Rate of surplusProfit Rate of Value of profit product

(wages) Machinery Raw materials 700 200 100


I 100

50 per cent 100

10 per cent 20 per cent 30 per cent 15 per cent 25 per cent


II 500




50 per cent 200


III 50




50 per cent 300


IV 700




50 per cent 150


V none




50 per cent 250


We have here, in the categories I, II, III, IV and V (five different spheres of production), commodities whose respective values are 1,100, 1,200, 1,300, 1,150 and 1,250. These are the money prices at which these commodities would exchange if they were exchanged according to their values. In all of them the capital advanced is of the same size, namely 1,000. If these commodities were exchanged at their values, then the rate of profit in I would be only 10 per cent; in II, twice as great, 20 per cent; in III, 30 per cent; in IV, 15 per cent; in V, 25 per cent. If we add up these particular rates of profit they come to 10 per cent+20 per cent+30 per cent+15 per cent+25 per cent, which is 100 per cent. If we consider the entire capital advanced in all five spheres of production, then one portion of this (I) yields 10 per cent, another (II) 20 per cent etc. The average yielded by the total capital equals the average yielded by the five portions, and this is:
100 (the total sum of the rates of profit)

/5 (the number of different rates of profit)

i.e., 20 per cent. In fact we find that the 5,000 capital advanced in the five spheres yield a profit of 100+200+300+150+250=1,000; 1,000 on 5,000 is 1/5 which is 20 per cent. Similarly: if we work out the value of the total product, it comes to 6,000 and the excess on the 5,000 capital advanced is 1,000, which is 20 per cent in relation to the capital advanced, that is 1/6 or 16 2/3 per cent of the total product. (This again is another calculation.) However, so that in fact each of the capitals advanced, i.e., I, II, III etc.or what comes to the same thing, that capitals of equal sizeshould receive a part of the surplus-value yielded by the aggregate capital only in proportion to their magnitude, i.e., only in proportion to the share they represent in the aggregate capital advanced, each of them should get only

20 per cent profit and each must get this amount. ||472| But to make this possible, the products of the various spheres must in some cases be sold above their value and in other cases more or less below their value. In other words, the total surplus-value must be distributed among them not in the proportion in which it is made in the particular sphere of production, but in proportion to the magnitude of the capitals advanced. All must sell their product at 1,200, so that the excess of the value of the product over the capital advanced is 1/5 of the latter, i.e., 20 per cent. According to this apportionment: [Relation of Value of Surplus- Average Relation of profit to average price to Product value price surplus-value in per cent value] Calculated Profit

I 1,100



Excess of Excess of profit over average price 200 surplus-value 100 per cent over value 100 Value equal to 0 price 0 Decrease in average price below value 100 Decrease in profit below surplus-value 331/3 per cent 200

II 1,200



III 1,300




IV 1,150



Excess of profit over Excess of price surplus-value 331/3 per over value 50 cent Excess of surplus-value Excess of value over profit 25 per cent. Decrease in profit below over price 50 surplus-value 20 per cent


V 1,250




This shows that only in one instance (II) the average price equals the value of the commodity, because by coincidence, the surplus-value equals the normal average profit of 200. In all other instances a greater or a lesser amount of surplus-value is taken away from one [sphere] and given to another, etc. What Herr Rodbertus had to explain was, why this [is] not the case in agriculture, hence [why] its commodities should be sold at their value and not their average price. Competition brings about the equalisation of profits, i.e., the reduction of the values of the commodities to average prices. The individual capitalist, according to Mr. Malthus, expects an equal profit from every part of hiscapitalwhich, in other words, means only that he regards each part of his capital (apart from

its organic function) as an independent source of profit, that is how it seems to him. Similarly, in relation to the class of capitalists, every capitalist regards his capital as a source of profit equal in volume to that which is being made by every other capital of equal size. This means that each capital in a particular sphere of production is only regarded as part of the aggregate capital which has been advanced to production as a whole and demands its share in the total surplus-value, in the total amount of unpaid labour or labour productsin proportion to its size, its stockin accordance to the proportion of the aggregate capital it constitutes. This illusion confirms for the capitalistto whom everything in competition appears in reverseand not only for him, but for some of his most devoted pharisees and scribes, that capital is a source of income independent of labour, since in fact the profit on capital in each particular sphere of production is by no means solely determined by the quantity of unpaid labour which it itself produces and throws into the pot of aggregate profits, from which the individual capitalists draw their quota in proportion to their shares in the total capital. Hence Rodbertuss nonsense. Incidentally, in some branches of agriculturesuch as stock-raisingthe variable capital, i.e., that which is laid out in wages, is extraordinarily small compared with the constant part of capital. Rent, by its very nature, is always ground-rent (p. 113). Wrong. Rent is always paid to the landlord; thats all. However, if, as so often occurs in practice, it is partially or wholly a deduction from normal profit or a deduction from normal wages (true surplusvalue, i.e., profit plus rent, is never a deduction f r o m wages, but is that part of the product of the worker which remains after deduction of the wage from this product) then from an economic point of view, it is not rent of land. In practice this is proved as soon as ||473| competition restores the normal Wage and the normal profit. Average prices, to which competition constantly tends to reduce the values of commodities, are thus achieved by constant additions to the value of the product of one sphere of production and deductions from the value of the product of another sphereexcept in the case of II in the above tablein order to arrive at the general rate of profit. With the commodities of the particular sphere of production where the ratio of variable capital to the total sum of capital advanced (assuming the rate of surplus-labour to be given) corresponds to the average ratio of social capitalvalue equals average price; neither an addition to nor a deduction from value is therefore made. If, however, owing to special circumstances which we will not go into here, in certain spheres of production a deduction is not made from the value of the commodities (although it stands above the average price, not just temporarily but on an average) then this retention of the entire surplus-value in a particular sphere of production although the value of the commodity is above the average price and therefore yields a rate of profit higher than the averageis to be regarded as a privilege of that sphere of production. What we are concerned with here and have to explain as a peculiar feature, as an exception, is not that the average price of commodities is reducedbelow their valuethis [would be] a general phenomenon and a necessary prerequisite for equalisationbut why, in contrast to other commodities, certain commodities are sold at their value, above the average price.

The average price of a commodity equals its cost of production (the capital advanced in it, be it in wages, raw material, machinery or whatever else) plus average profit. Hence if, as in the above example, average profit is 20 per cent which is 1/5, then the average price of each commodity is C (the capital advance) +P/C (the average rate of profit). If C+P/C equals the value of this commodity, i.e., if S, the surplus-value created in this sphere of production, equals P, then the value of the commodity equals its average price. If C+P/C is smaller than the value of the commodity, i.e., if the surplus-value S, created in this sphere, is larger than P, then the value of the commodity is reduced to its average price and part of its surplus-value is added on to the value of other commodities. Finally, if C+P/C is greater than the value of the commodity, i.e., S is smaller than P, then the value of the commodity is raised to its average price and surplus-value created in other spheres of production is added to it. Finally, should there be commodities which are sold at their value, although their value is greater than C+P/C, or whose value is at any rate not reduced to such an extent as to bring it down to the level of the normal average price C+P/C, then certain conditions must be operative, which put these commodities into an exceptional position. In this case the profit realised in these spheres of production stands above the general rate of profit. If the capitalist receives the general rate of profit here, the landlord can get the excess profit in the form of rent.

[7. Rodbertuss Erroneous Views Regarding the Factors Which Determine the Rate of Profit and the Rate of Rent] What I call rate of profit and rate of interest or rate of rent, Rodbertus calls Level of Profit on Capital and Interest (p. 113). This level depends on their ratio to capital In all civilised nations a capital of 100 is taken as a unit, which provides the standard measurement for the level to be calculated. Thus, the larger the figure that expresses the relation between the gain or interest falling to the capital of 100, in other words, the more per cent a capital yields, the higher are profit and interest (pp. 11314). The level of ground-rent and of rental follows from their proportion to a particular piece of land (p. 114). This is bad. The rate of rent is, in the first place, to be calculated on the capital, i.e., as the excess of the price of a commodity over its costs of production and over that part of the price which forms the profit. Because it helps him to understand certain phenomena Herr Rodbertus makes the caculation with an acre or a morgen, the apparent form of the thing, ||474| in which the intrinsic connection is lost. The rent yielded by an acre is the rental, the absolute amount of rent. It may rise if the rate of rent remains the same or is even lowered. The level of the value of land follows from the capitalisation of the rent of a particular piece of land, The greater the amount of capital derived from the capitalisation of the rent of a piece of land of a given area, the higher is the value of the land (p. 114).

The word level is nonsense here. For to what does it express a relationship? That 10 per cent yields more than 20 is obvious; but the unit of measurement here is 100. Altogether the level of the value of land is the same general phrase as the high or low level of commodity prices in general. Herr Rodbertus now wants to investigate: What then determines the level of capital profit and of ground-rent? (p. 115)

[a) Rodbertuss First Thesis] First of all he examines: What determines the level of rent in general, i.e., what regulates the rate of surplus-value? I) With a given value of a product, or a product of a given quantity of labour or, which again amounts to the same thing, with a given national product, the level of rent in general bears an inverse relationship to the level of wages and a direct relationship to the level of productivity of labour in general. The lower the wages, the higher the rent; the higher the productivity of labour in general, the lower the wages and the higher the rent (pp. 11516). The level of rentthe rate of surplus-valuesays Rodbertus, depends upon the size of this portion left over for rent (p. 117), i.e., after deducting wages from the total product, in which that part of the value of the product which serves as replacement of capitalcan be disregarded (p. 117). This is good (I mean that in this consideration of surplus-value the constant part of capital is disregarded). The following is a somewhat peculiar notion: when wages fall, i.e., from now on form a smaller share of the total value of the product, the aggregate capital on which the other part of rent <i.e., the industrial profit> is to be calculated as profit, becomes smaller. Now it is, however, solely the ratio between the value that becomes capital profit or ground-rent, and the capital, or the land area on which it has to he calculated as such, which determines the level of profit and rent. Thus if wages allow a greater value to be left over for rent, a greater value is to be reckoned as profit and ground-rent, even with a diminished capital and the same area of land. The resulting ratio of both increases and, therefore, the two together, or rent in general, has risen It is assumed that the value of the product remains the same Because the wage, which the labour costs, diminishes, the labour, which the product costs, does not necessarily diminish (pp. 117 18). The last bit is good. But it is incorrect to say that when the variable capital that is laid out in wages decreases, the constant capital must diminish. In other words, it is not true that the rate of profit <the quite inappropriate reference to area of land etc. is omitted here) must rise because the rate of surplusvalue rises. For instance, wages fall because labour becomes more productive and in all cases this

expresses itself in more raw material being worked up by the same worker in the same period of time; this part of constant capital therefore grows, ditto machinery and its value. Hence the rate of profit can fall with the reduction in wages. The rate of profit is dependent on the amount of surplus-value, which is determined not only by the rate of surplus-value, but also (by] the number of workers employed. Rodbertus correctly defines the necessary wage as equal to the amount of necessary subsistence, that is to a fairly stable definite quantity of material products for a particular country and a particular period (p. 118). ||475| Herr Rodbertus then puts forward in a most intricately confused, complicated and clumsy fashion, the propositions set up by Ricardo on the inverse relationship of profit and wages and the determination of this relationship by the productivity of labour. The confusion arises partly because, instead of taking labour-time as his measure, he foolishly takes quantities of product and makes nonsensical differentiations between level of the value of the product and magnitude of the value of the product. By level of the value of the product this stripling means nothing other than the relation of the product to the labour-time. If the same amount of labour-time yields many products then the value of the product, i.e., the value of separate portions of the product is low, if the reverse, then the reverse. If one working-day yielded 100 lbs. yarn and later 200 lbs. then in the second case the value of the yarn would be half what it was in the first. In the first case its value is 1/100 of a working-day; in the second, the value of the lb. of yarn is 1/200 of a working-day. Since the worker receives the same amount of product, whether its value be high or low, i.e., whether it contains more or less labour, wages and profit move inversely, and wages take more or less of the total product, according to the productivity of labour. He expresses this in the following intricate sentences: if the wage, as necessary subsistence, is a definite quantity of material products, then, if the value of the product is high, the wage must have a high value, if it is low, it must constitute a low value and, since the value of the product available for distribution is assumed as constant, the wage will absorb a large part if the value of the product is high, a small part of it, if its value is low and finally, it will therefore leave either a large or a small share of the value of the product for rent. But if one accepts the rule that the value of the product equals the quantity of labour which it cost, then the level of the value of the product is again determined purely by the productivity of labour or the relationship between the amount of product and the quantity of labour which is used for its productionif the same quantity of labour brings forth more product, in other words, if productivity increases, then the same quantity of product contains less labour and conversely, if the same quantity of labour brings forth less product, in other words, if productivity decreases, then the same quantity of product contains more labour. But the quantity of labour determines the value of the product and the relative value of a particular quantity of product determines the level of the value of the product Hence the higher the productivity of labour in general, the higher must be rent in general (pp. 11920). But this is only correct if the product, for whose production the worker is employed, belongs to that species whichaccording to tradition or necessityfigures in his consumption as a means of

subsistence. If this is not the case, then the productivity of this labour has no effect on the relative height of wages and of profit, or on the amount of surplus-value in general. The same share in the value of the total product falls to the worker as wages, irrespective of the number of products or the quantity of the product in which this share is expressed. The division of the value of the product in this case is not altered by any change in the productivity of labour.

[b) Rodbertuss Second Thesis] II) If with a given value of the product, the level of rent in general is given, then the level of ground-rent and of capital profit, bear an inverse relationship to one another, and also to the productivity of extractive labour and manufacturing labour respectively. The higher or lower the rent, the lower or higher the capital profit and vice versa; the higher or lower the productivity of extractive labour or of manufacturing labour, the lower or higher the rent or capital profit, and alternately also the higher or lower is the capital profit or rent (p. 116). First ([in thesis] I) we had the Ricardian (law] that wages and profit are related inversely. Now the second Ricardian [law]differently evolved or, rather, made involved that profit and rent have an inverse relation. It is obvious, that when a given surplus-value is divided between capitalist and landowner, then the larger the share of one, the smaller will be that of the other and vice versa. But Herr Rodbertus adds something of his own which requires closer examination. In the first place, Herr Rodbertus regards it as a new discovery that surplus-value in general (the value of the product of labour which is in fact available for sharing out as rent>, the entire surplus-value filched by the capitalist, consists of the value of the raw product+the value of the manufactured product (p. 120). Herr Rodbertus first reiterates his discovery of the absence of the value of the material in ||476| agriculture. This time in the following flood of words: That portion of rent which accrues to the manufactured product and determines the rate of capital profit is reckoned as profit not only on the capital which is actually used for the production of this product but also on the whole of the raw product value which figures as value of the material in the capital fund of the manufacturer. On the other hand, as regards that portion of rent which accrues to the raw product and from which the profit on the capital used in raw material production is calculated according to the given rate of profit in manufacture (yes! given rate of profit!) leaving a remainder for ground-rent, such a material value is missing (p. 121). We repeat: quod non!

Assume that a ground-rent existswhich Herr Rodbertus has not proved and cannot prove by his methodthat is to say, a certain portion of the surplus-value of the raw product falls to the landlord. Further assume that: the level of rent in general (the rate of surplus-value) in a particular value of the product is also given (p. 121). This amounts to the following: For instance, in a commodity of 100, say half, 50, is unpaid labour; this then forms the fund from which all categories of surplus-value, rent, profit etc. are paid. Then it is quite evident that one shareholder in the 50 will draw the more, the less is drawn by the other and vice versa, or that profit and rent are inversely proportional. Now the question is, what determines the apportionment between the two? In any case it remains true that the revenue of the manufacturer (be he agriculturist or industrialist) equals the surplus-value which he draws from the sale of his manufactured product (which he has pilfered from the workers in his sphere of production), and that rent of land (where it does not, as with the waterfall which is sold to the industrialist, stem directly from the manufactured product, which is also the case with rent for houses etc., since houses can hardly be termed raw product) only arises from the excess profit (that part of surplus-value which does not enter into the general rate of profit) which is contained in the raw products and which the farmer pays over to the landlord. It is quite true that when the value of the raw product rises [or falls], the rate of profit in those branches of industry which use raw material will rise or fall inversely to the value of the raw product. As I showed in a previous example, if the value of cotton doubles, then with a given wage and a given rate of surplusvalue, the rate of profit will fall. The same applies however to agriculture. If the harvest is poor and production is to be continued on the same scale (we assume here that the commodities are sold at their value) then a greater part of the total product or of its value would have to be returned to the soil and after deducting wages, if these remain stationary, the farmers surplus-value would consist of a smaller quantity of product, hence also a smaller quantity of value would be available for sharing out between him and the landlord. Although the individual product would have a higher value than before, not only the amount of product, but also the remaining portion of value would be smaller. It would be a different matter if, as a result of demand, the product rose above its value, and to such an extent that a smaller quantity of product had a higher price than a larger quantity of product did before. But this would be contrary to our stipulation that the products are sold at their value. Let us assume the opposite. Supposing he cotton harvest is twice as rich and that that part of it which is returned direct to the soil, for instance as fertiliser and seed, costs less than before. In this case the portion of value which is left for the cotton-grower after deduction of wages is greater than before. The rate of profit would rise here just as in the cotton industry. True, in one yard of calico, the proportion of value formed by the raw product would now be smaller than before and [that] formed by the manufacturing process would be larger. Assume that calico costs 2s. a yard when the value of the cotton it contains is 1s. Now if cotton goes down from 1s. to 6d., (which, on the assumption that its value equals its price, is only possible because its cultivation has become more productive) then the value of a yard of calico is 18d. It has decreased by a quarter which is 25 per cent. But where the cotton-grower previously sold 100 lbs. at is., he is now supposed to sell 200 at 6d. Previously the value [was] 100s.; now too it is 100s. Although previously cotton formed a greater proportion of the value of

the productand the rate of surplus-value in cotton growing itself decreased simultaneouslythe cotton-grower obtained only 50 yds. of calico for his 100s. cotton at 1s. per lb.; now that the lb. [is sold] at 6d., he receives 66 2/3 yds, for his 100s. On the assumption that the commodities are sold at their value, it is wrong to say that the revenue of the producers who take part in the production of the product is necessarily dependent on the portion of value ||477|represented by their products in the total value of the product. Let the value of the total product of all manufactured commodities, including machinery, be 300 in one branch, 900 in another and 1,800 in a third. If it is true to say that the proportion in which the value of the whole product is divided between the value of the raw product and the value of the manufactured product determines the proportion in which the surplus-valuethe rent, as Rodbertus saysis divided into profit and ground-rent, then this must also be true of different products in different spheres of production where raw material and manufactured products participate in varying proportions. Suppose out of a value of 900, manufactured product accounts for 300 and raw material for 600, and that 1 equals 1 working-day. Furthermore, the rate of surplus-value is given as, say, 2 hours on 10, with a normal working-day of 12 hours, then the 300 [manufactured product] embodies 300 workingdays, and the 600 [raw product] twice as much, i.e., 2300. The amount of surplus-value in the one is 600 hours, in the other 1,200. This only means that, given the rate of surplus-value, its volume depends on the number of workers or the number of workers employed simultaneously. Furthermore, since it has been assumed (not proved) that of the surplus-value which enters into the value of the agricultural product a portion falls to the landlord as rent, it would follow that in fact the amount of groundrent grows in the same proportion as the value of the agricultural product compared with the manufactured product . In the above example the ratio of the agricultural product to the manufactured product is as 2:1, i.e., 600:300. Suppose [in another case] it is as 300:600. Since the rent depends on the surplus-value contained in the agricultural product, it is clear that if this [amounts to] 1,200 hours in the first case as against 600 in the second, and if the rent constitutes a certain part of this surplus-value, it must be greater in the first case than in the second. Orthelarger the portion of value which the agricultural product forms in the value of the total product, the larger will be its share in the surplus-value of the whole product, for every portion of the value of the product contains a certain portion of surplus-value and the larger the share in the surplus-value of the whole product which falls to the agricultural product, the larger will be the rent, since rent represents a definite proportion of the surplus-value of the agricultural product. Let the rent be one-tenth of the agricultural surplus-value, then it is 120 [hours] if the value of the agricultural product is 600 out of the 900 and only 60 [hours] if it is 300. According to this, the volume of rent would in fact alter with the amount of the value of the agricultural product, hence also with the relative value of the agricultural product in relation to the manufactured product. But the level of the rent and of the profit their rateswould have absolutely nothing to do with it

whatsoever. In the first case the value of the product is 900 of which 300 is manufactured product and 600 agricultural product. Of this, 600 hours surplus-value accrue to the manufactured product and 1,200 to the agricultural product. Altogether 1,800 hours. Of these, 120 go to rent and 1,680 to profit. In the second case the value of the product is 900, of which 600 is manufactured product and 300 agricultural product. Thus 1,200 [hours] surplus-value for manufacture and 600 for agriculture. Altogether 1,800. Of this 60 go to rent and 1,200 to profit for manufacture and 540 for agriculture. Altogether 1,740. In the second case, the manufactured product is twice as great as the agricultural product (in terms of value). In the first case the position is reversed. In the second case the rent is 60, in the first it is 120. It has simply grown in the same proportion as the value of the agricultural product. As the volume of the latter increased so the volume of the rent increased. If we consider the total surplus-value, 1,800, then in the first case the rent is 1/15 and in the second it is 1/30. If here with the increased portion of value that falls to agricultural product the volume of rent also rises and with this, its volume, increases its proportional share in the total surplus-valuei.e., the rate at which surplus-value accrues to rent also rises compared to that at which it accrues to profitthen this is only so, because Rodbertus assumes that rent participates in the surplus-value of the agricultural product in a d e f i n i t e p r o p o r t i o n. Indeed this must be so, if this fact is given or presupposed. But the fact itself by no means follows from the rubbish which Rodbertus pours forth about the value of the material and which I have already cited above at the beginning of page 476. But the level of the rent does not rise in proportion to the [surplus-value in the] product in which it participates, because now, as before, this [proportion is] one-tenth; its volume grows because the product grows, and because it grows in volume, without a rise in its level, its level rises in comparison with the quantity of profit or the share of profit in the ||4781 value of the total product. Because it is presupposed that a greater part of the value of the total product yields rent, i.e., a greater part of surplus-value is turned into rent, that part of surplus-value which is converted into rent is of course greater. This has absolutely nothing to do with the value of the material, But that a greater rent at the same time represents a higher rent, because the area or number of acres on which it is calculated remains the same and hence a greater amount of value falls to the individual acre (p. 122) is ridiculous. It amounts to measuring the level of rent by a standard of measurement that obviates the difficulties of the problem itself. Since we do not know as yet what rent is, had we put the above example differently and had left the same rate of profit for the agricultural product as for the manufactured product, only adding on onetenth for rent, which is really necessary since the same rate of profit is assumed, then the whole business would look different and become clearer. Manufactured product Agricultural product

600 [7,200 I hours]

300 [3,600 hours]

1,200 [hours] surplus-value for manufacture, 600 for agriculture and 60 for rent. Altogether 1,860 [hours; of these] 1,800 for profit. 600 [hours] surplus-value for manufacture, 1,200 for agriculture and 120 for rent. Altogether 1,920 [hours; of these] 1,800 for profit.

300 [3,600 II hours]

600 [7,200 hours]

In case II the rent is twice that in I because the agricultural product, the share of the value of the product on which it sponges, has grown in proportion to the industrial product. The volume of profit remains the same in both cases, i.e., 1,800. In the first case (the rent] is 1/31 of the total surplus-value, in the second case it is 1/16 If Rodbertus wants to charge the value of the material exclusively to industry, then above all, it should have been his duty to burden agriculture alone with that part of constant capital which consists of machinery, etc. This part of capital enters into agriculture as a product supplied to it by industry as a manufactured product, which forms the means of production for the raw product. Since we are dealing here with an account between two firms, so far as industry is concerned, that part of the value of the machinery which consists of raw material is already debited to it under the heading of raw material or value of the material. We cannot therefore book this twice over. The other portion of value of the machinery used in manufacture, consists of added manufacturing labour (past and present) and this resolves into wages and profit (paid and unpaid labour). That part of capital which has been advanced here (apart from that contained in the raw material of the machines) therefore consists only of wages. Hence it increases not only the amount of capital advanced, but also the profit, the volume of surplus-value to be calculated upon this capital. (The error usually made in such calculations is that, for instance, the wear and tear of the machinery or of the tools used is embodied in the machine itself, in its value and although, in the last analysis, this wear and tear can be reduced to labour either labour contained in the raw material or that which transformed the raw material into machine, etc.this past labour never again enters into profit or wages, but only acts as a produced condition of production (in so far as the necessary labour-time for reproduction does not alter) which, whatever its use-value in the labour-process, only figures as value of constant capital, in the process of creating surplus-value. This is of great importance and has already been explained in the course of my examination of the exchange of constant capital and revenue. But apart from this, it needs to be further developed in the section on the accumulation of capital.) So far as agriculture is concernedthat is, purely the production of raw products or so-called primary productionin balancing the accounts between the firms primary production and manufacture that part of the value of constant capital which represents machinery, tools, etc., can on no account be regarded in any other way than as an item which enters into agricultural capital without increasing its surplus-value. If, as a result of the employment of machinery etc., agricultural labour becomes more productive, the higher the price of this machinery etc., the smaller will be the increase in productivity. It

is the use-value of the machinery and not its value which increases the productivity of agricultural labour or of any other sort of labour. Otherwise one might also say that the productivity of industrial labour is, in the first place, due to the presence of raw material and its properties. But again it is the use-value of the raw material, not its value, which constitutes a condition of production for industry. Its value, on the contrary, is a drawback. Thus what Herr Rodbertus says about the value of the material in respect to the industrial capital, is literally, ||479| mutatis mutandis valid for machinery etc. For instance the labour costs of a particular product, such as w h e a t or cotton, cannot be affected by the labour costs of t h e p l o u g h o r g i n a s m a c h i n e s (or the labour costs of a drainage canal or stable buildings). On the other hand, the value of the m a c h i n e or the m a c h i n e v a l u e does figure in the amount of capital on which the owner has to calculate his gain, the rent that falls to the r a w p r o d u c t. (Cf. Rodbertus, p. 97.) In other words: That portion of the value of wheat and cotton representing the value of the wear and tear of the plough or gin, is not the result of the work of ploughing or of separating the cotton fibre from its seed, but the result of the labour which manufactured the plough and the gin. This component part of value goes into the agricultural product without being produced in agriculture. It only passes through agriculture, which uses it merely to replace ploughs and gins by buying new ones from the maker of machines. The machines, tools, buildings and other manufactured products required in agriculture consist of two component parts : 1. the raw materials of these manufactured products [2. the labour added to the raw materials.] Although these raw materials are the product of agriculture, they are a part of its product which never enters into wages or into profit. Even if there were no capitalist, the farmer still could not chalk up this part of his product as wages for himself. He would in fact have to hand it over gratis to the machine manufacturer so that the latter would make him a machine from it and besides he would have to pay for the labour which is added to this raw material (equal to wages plus profit). This happens in reality. The machine maker buys the raw material but in purchasing the machine, agricultural producer must buy back the raw material. It is just as if he had not sold it at all, but had lent it to the machine maker to give it the form of the machine. Thus that portion of the value of the machinery employed in agriculture which resolves into raw material, although it is the product of agricultural labour and forms part of its value, belongs to production and not to the producer, it therefore figures in his expenses, like seed. The other part, however, represents the manufacturing labour embodied in the machinery and is a product of manufacture which enters into agriculture as a means of production, just as raw material enters as a means of production into industry. Thus, if it is true that the firm primary production supplies the firm manufacturing industry with the value of the material which enters as an item into the capital of the industrialist, then it is no less true that the firm manufacturing industry supplies the firm primary production with the value of the machinery which enters wholly (including that part which consists of raw material) into the farmers capital without this component part of value yielding him any surplus-value. This circumstance is a reason why the rate of profit appears to be smaller in high agriculture, as the English call it, than in primitive agriculture, although the rate of surplus-value is greater.

At the same time this supplies Herr Rodbertus with striking proof of how irrelevant it is to the nature of a capital advance, whether that portion of the product which is laid out in constant capital is replaced in kind and therefore only accounted for as a commodityas money valueor whether it has really been alienated and has gone through the process of purchase and sale. Supposing the producer of raw materials handed over gratis to the machine builder the iron, copper, wood etc., embodied in his machine, so that the machine builder in selling him the machine would charge him for the added labour and the wear and tear of his own machine, then this machine would cost the agriculturist just as much as it costs him now and the same component part of value would figure as constant capital, as an advance, in his production. Just as it amounts to the same thing whether a farmer sells the whole of his harvest and buys seed from elsewhere with that portion of its value which rep-resents seed (raw material) perhaps to effect a desirable change in the type of seed and to prevent degeneration by inbreeding or whether he deducts this component part of value directly from his product and returns it to the soil. But in order to arrive at his results, Herr Rodbertus misinterprets that part of constant capital which consists of machinery. A second aspect that has to be examined in connection with [case] II of Herr Rodbertus is this: He speaks of the manufactured and agricultural products which make up the revenue, which is something quite different from those manufactured and agricultural products which make up the total annual product. Now supposing it were correct to say of the latter that after deducting the whole of that part of the agricultural capital which consists of machinery etc. ||480| and that part of the agricultural product which is returned direct to agricultural production, the proportion in which the surplus-value is distributed between farmer and manufacturerand therefore also the proportion in which the surplusvalue accruing to the farmer is distributed between himself and the landlordmust be determined by the share of manufacture and of agriculture in the total value of the products; then it is still highly questionable whether this is correct if we are speaking of those products which form the common fund of revenue. Revenue (we exclude here that part which is reconverted into new capital) consists of products which go into individual consumption and the question is, how much do the capitalists, farmers and landlords draw out of this pot. Is this quota determined by the share of manufacture and raw production in the value of the product that constitutes revenue? Or by the quotas in which the value of the total revenue is divisible into agricultural labour and manufacturing labour? The mass of products which make up revenue, as I have demonstrated earlier, does not contain any products that enter into production as instruments of labour (machinery), auxiliary material, semifinished goods and the raw material of semi-finished goods, which form a part of the annual product of labour. Not only the constant capital of primary production is excluded but also the constant capital of the machine makers and the entire constant capital of the farmer and the capitalist which does not enter into the process of the creation of value though it enters into the labourprocess. Furthermore, it excludes not only constant capital, but also the part of the unconsumable products that represents the revenue of their producers and enters into the capital of the producers of products consumable as revenue, for the replacement of their used up constant capital.

The mass of products on which the revenue is spent and which in fact represents that part of wealth which constitutes revenue, in terms of both use-value and exchange-valuethis mass of products can, as I have demonstrated earlier, be regarded as consisting only of newly-added (during the year) labour. Hence it can be resolved only into revenue, i.e., wages and profit (which again splits up into profit, rent, taxes, etc.), since not a single particle of it contains any of the value of the raw material which goes into production or of the wear and tear of the machinery which goes into production, in a word, it contains none of the value of the means of production. Leaving aside the derivative forms of revenue because they merely show that the owner of the revenue relinquishes his proportional share of the said products to another, be it for services etc. or debt etc.let us consider this revenue and assume that wages form a third of it, profit a third and rent a third and that the value of the product is 90. Then each will be able to draw the equivalent of 30 worth of products from the whole amount. Since the amount of products which forms the revenue consists only of newly-added (i.e., added during the year) labour, it seems very simple that if the product contains two-thirds agricultural labour and one-third manufacturing labour, then manufacturers and agriculturists will share the value in this proportion. One-third of the value would fall to the manufacturers and two-thirds to the agriculturists and the proportional amount of the surplus-value realised in manufacture and agriculture (the same rate of surplus-value is assumed in both) would correspond to these shares of manufacture and agriculture in the value of the total product. But rent again *would+ grow in proportion to the farmers volume of profit since it sits on it like a parasite. And yet this is wrong. Because a part of the value which consists of agricultural labour forms the revenue of the manufacturers of that fixed capital etc., which replaces the fixed capital worn out in agriculture. Thus the ratio between agricultural labour and manufacturing labour in the component parts of value of those products which constitute the revenue, in no way indicates the ratio in which the value of this mass of products or this mass of products itself is distributed between the manufacturers and the farmers, neither does it indicate the ratio in which manufacture and agriculture participate in total production. Rodbertus goes on to say: But again it is only the productivity of labour in primary production or manufacture, which determines the relative level of the value of the primary product and manufactured product or their respective shares in the value of the total product. The value of the primary product will be the higher, the lower the productivity of labour in primary production and vice versa. In the same way, the value of the manufactured product will be the higher, the lower the productivity in manufacture and vice versa. Since a high value of the raw product effects a high ground-rent and low capital gain, and a high value of the manufactured product effects a high capital gain and low ground-rent, if the level of rent in general is given, the level of ground-rent and of capital gain must not only bear an inverse relationship to one another, but also to the productivity of their respective labour, that in primary production and that in manufacture (p. 123). If the productivity of two different spheres of production is to be compared, this can only be done relatively. In other words, one starts at any arbitrary point, for instance, when the values of hemp and linen, i.e., the correlative quantities of labour-time embodied in them, are as 1:3. If this ratio alters,

then it is correct to say that the productivity of these different types of labour has altered. But it is wrong to say that because the labour-time required for the production of an ounce of gold ||481| equals three and that for a ton of iron also equals three, gold production is less productive than iron production. The relative value of two commodities shows that the one costs more labour-time than the other; but one cannot say that because of this one branch is more productive than the other. This would only be correct if the labour-time were used for the production of the same use-values in both instances. It would be entirely wrong to say that manufacture is three times as productive as agriculture if the value of the raw product is to that of the manufactured product as 3:1. Only if the ratio changes say to 4:1 or 3:2 or 2:1, i.e., when it rises or falls, could one say that the relative productivity in the two branches has altered.

[c) Rodbertuss Third Thesis] III) The level of capital gain is solely determined by the level of the value of the product in general and by the level of the value of the raw product and the manufactured product in particular; or by the productivity of labour in general and by the productivity of labour employed in the production of raw materials and of manufactured goods in particular. The level of ground-rent is, apart from this, also dependent on the magnitude of the value of the product or the quantity of labour, or productive power, which, with a given state of productivity, is used for production (pp. 11617). In other words: The rate of profit depends solely on the rate of surplus-value and this is determined solely by the productivity of labour. On the other hand, given the productivity of labour, the rate of ground-rent also depends on the amount of labour (the number of workers) employed. This assertion contains almost as many falsehoods as words. Firstly the rate of profit is by no means solely determined by the rate of surplus-value. But more about this shortly. First of all, it is wrong to say that the rate of surplus-value depends solely on the productivity of labour. Given the productivity of labour, the rate of surplus-value alters according to the length of the surplus labour-time. Hence the rate of surplus-value depends not only on the productivity of labour but also on the quantity of labour employed because the quantity of unpaid labour can grow (while productivity remains constant) without the quantity of paid labour, i.e., that part of capital laid out in wages, growing. Surplus-value absolute or relative (and Rodbertus only knows the latter from Ricardo)cannot exist unless labour is at least sufficiently productive to leave over some sur-plus labour-time apart from that required for the worker s own reproduction. But assuming this to be the case, with a given minimum productivity, then the rate of surplus-value alters according to the length of surplus labour-time. Firstly, therefore, it is wrong to say that because the rate of surplus-value is solely determined by the productivity of the labour exploited by capital, the rate of profit or the level of capital gain is so determined. Secondly:The rate of surplus-valuewhich, if the productivity of labour is given, alters with

the length of the working-day and, with a given normal working-day, alters with the productivity of labouris assumed to be given. Surplus-value itself will then vary according to the number of workers from whose every working-day a certain quantity of surplus-value is extorted, or according to the volume of variable capital expended on wages. The rate of profit, on the other hand, depends on the ratio of this surplus-value [to] the variable capital plus the constant capital. If the rate of surplusvalue is given, the amount of surplus-value does indeed depend on the amount of variable capital, but the level of profit, the rate of profit, depends on the ratio of this surplus-value to the total capital advanced. In this case the rate of profit will thus be determined by the price of the raw material (if such exists in this branch of industry) and the value of machinery of a particular efficiency. Hence what Rodbertus says is fundamentally wrong: Thus, as the amount of capital gain increases consequent upon the increase in product value, so also in the same proportion increases the amount of capital value on which the gain has to be reckoned, and the hitherto existing ratio between gain and capital is not altered at all by this increase in capital gain (p. 125). This is only valid if it [signifies] the tautology that: given the rate of profit <very different from the rate of surplus-value and surplus-value itself.>, the amount of capital employed is immaterial, precisely because the rate of profit is assumed to be constant. But as a rule the rate of profit can increase although the productivity of labour remains constant, or it can fall even though the productivity of labour rises and rises moreover in every department. And now again the silly remark <pp. 12526> about ground-rent, the assertion that the mere increase of rent raises its rate, because in every country it is calculated on the basis of an unalterable number of acres (p. 126). If the volume of profit grows (given the rate of profit), then the amount of capital from which it is drawn, grows. On the other hand, if rent increases, then [according to Rodbertus] only one factor changes, namely rent itself, while its standard of measurement, the number of acres, remains unalterably fixed. ||482| Hence rent can rise for a reason which enters into the economic development of society everywhere, namely the increase in labour used for production, in other words, the increasing population. This does not necessarily have to he followed by a rise in the raw product value since the drawing of rent from a greater quantity of primary product must already have this effect (p. 127). On p.128, Rodbertus makes the strange discovery that even if the value of the raw product fell below its normal level, causing rent to disappear completely, it would be impossible for capital gain ever to amount to 100 per cent (i.e., if the commodity is sold at its value) however high it may be, it must always amount to considerably less (p. 128). And why?

Because it (the capital gain) is merely the result of the division of the value of the product. It must, accordingly, always he a fraction of this unit (pp. 12728). This, Herr Rodbertus, depends entirely upon the nature of your calculation. Let the constant capital advanced be 100, the wages advanced 50 and let the product of labour over and above this 50 be 150. We would then have the following calculation: Constant capital 100 Variable capital 50 Surplus-value 150 value 300 cost of Profit Per cent production 150 150 100

The only requirement to produce this situation is that the worker should work for his master three quarters of his working-day, it is therefore assumed that one quarter of his labour-time suffices for his own reproduction. Of course, if Herr Rodbertus takes the total value of the product, which equals 300, and does not consider the excess it contains over the costs of production, but says that this product is to be divided between the capitalist and the worker, then in fact the capitalists portion can only amount to a part of this product, even if it came to 999/1,000. But the calculation is incorrect, or at least useless in almost every respect. If a person lays out 150 and makes 300 he is not in the habit of saying that he has made a profit of 50 per cent on the basis of reckoning the 150 on 300 instead of 150. Assume, in the above example, that the worker has worked 12 hours, 3 for himself and 9 for the capitalist. Now let him work 15 hours, i.e., 3 for himself and 12 for the capitalist. Then, according to the former production ratio, an outlay of 25 on constant capital would have to be added (less in fact, because the outlay on machinery would not grow to the same degree as the quantity of labour). Thus: Constant capital 125 Variable capital 50 Surplus-value 200 value 375 cost of Profit Per cent production 175 200 1142/7

Then Rodbertus comes up again with the growth of rent to infinity, firstly because he interprets its mere increase in volume as a rise, and therefore speaks of its rise when the same rate of rent is paid on a larger amount of product. Secondly because he calculates on an acre as his standard of measurement. Two things which have nothing in common. *** The following points can be dealt with quite briefly, since they have nothing to do with my purpose. The value of land is the capitalised ground-rent. Hence this, its expression in terms of money, depends on the level of the prevailing rate of interest. Capitalised at 4 per cent, it would have to be multiplied by 25 (since 4 per cent is 1/25 of 100); at 5 per cent by 20 (since 5 per cent is 1/20 of 100). This would amount to a difference in land value of 20 per cent (p. 131). Even with a fall in the value of

money, ground-rent and hence the value of land would rise nominally, sinceunlike the increase in interest or profit (expressed in money) the monetary expression of capital does not rise evenly. The rent, however, which has risen in terms of money has to be related to the unchanged number of acres of the piece of land (p. 132). Herr Rodbertus sums up his wisdom as applied to Europe in this way: 1. with the European nations, the productivity of labour in generallabour employed in primary production and manufacturinghas risenas a result of which, the part of the national product used for wages has diminished, the part left over for rent has increasedso rent in general has risen (pp. 138 39). 2. the increase in productivity is relatively greater in manufacture than in primary production an equal value of national product will therefore at present yield a larger rent share to the raw product than to the manufactured product. Therefore notwithstanding the rise in rent in general, in fact only ground-rent has risen while capital gain has fallen (p. 139). Here Herr Rodbertus, just like Ricardo, explains the rise of rent and the fall of the rate of profit one by the other; the fall of one is equal to the rise of the other and the rise of the latter is explained by the relative unproductiveness ||483| of agriculture. Indeed, Ricardo says somewhere quite expressly that it is not a matter of absolute but of relative unproductiveness. But even if he had said the opposite, it would not comply with the principle he establishes since Anderson, the original author of the Ricardian concept, expressly declares that every piece of land is capable of absolute improvement. If surplus-value (profit and rent) in general has risen then it is not merely possible that the rate of the total rent has fallen in proportion to constant capital, but it will have fallen because productivity has risen. Although the number of workers employed has grown, as has the rate at which they are exploited, the amount of capital expended on wages as a whole has fallen relatively, although it has risen absolutely; because the capital which as an advancea product of the pastis set in motion by these workers and as a prerequisite of production forms an ever growing share of the total capital. Hence the rate of profit and rent taken together has fallen, although not only its volume (its absolute amount) has grown, but also the rate at which labour is being exploited has risen. This Herr Rodbertus cannot see, because for him constant capital is an invention of industry of which agriculture is ignorant. But so far as the relative magnitude of profit and rent is concerned, it does not by any means follow that, because agriculture is relatively less productive than industry, the rate of profit has fallen absolutely. If, for instance, its relationship to rent was as 2:3 and is now as 1:3, then whereas previously it formed two-thirds of rent, it now forms only one-third, or previously [profit] formed two-fifths of the total surplus-value and now only a quarter, [or] previously 8/20 and now only 5/20; it would have fallen by 3/20 or [by] 15 per cent. Assume that the value of 1 lb. of cotton was 2s. It falls to 1s. 100 workers who previously span 100 lbs. in one day, now spin 300.

Previously, the outlay for 300 lbs. amounted to 600s.; now it is only 300s. Further, assume that in both cases machinery equals 1/10, or 60s. Finally, previously 300 lbs. cost 300s. as an outlay for 300 workers, now only l00s. for 100 [workers]. Since the productivity of the workers has increased, and we must suppose that they are paid here in their own product, assume that whereas previously the surplus-value was 20 per cent of wages, it is now 40. Thus the cost of the 300 lbs. is: in the first case: Raw material 600, machinery 60, wages 300, surplus-value 60, altogether 1,020s. in the second case: Raw material 300, machinery 60, wages 100, surplus-value 40, altogether 500s. In the first case: The costs of production 960, profit 60, rate of profit 6 1/4 [per cent]. In the second case: [The costs of production] 460, profit 40, rate of profit 8 16/23 [per cent]. Suppose the rent is a third of 1 lb., then in the first case it equals 200s., i.e., 10; in the second it is 100s. or 5. The rent has fallen here because the raw product has become cheaper by 50 per cent. But the whole of the product has become cheaper by more than 50 per cent. The industrial labour added in I [is to the value of the raw material] as 300 : 600 = 6 : 10 = 1 : 1 2/3; in II, as 140 : 300 = 1 : 2 1/7. Industrial labour has become relatively more productive than agricultural labour; yet in the first case the rate of profit is lower and the rent higher than in the second. In both cases rent amounts to one-third of raw materials. Assume that the amount of raw materials in II doubles so that 600 lbs. are spun and the ratio would be: II. 600 lbs. [cotton] = 600s. raw material, 120s. machinery, 200s. wages, 80s. surplus-value. Altogether 920s. production costs, 80s. profit, rate of profit 8 16/23 per cent. The rate of profit [has] risen compared with I. Rent would be just the same as in I. The 600 lbs. would cost only 1,000, whereas before they cost 2,040. ||484| It does not by any means follow from the relative dearness of the agricultural product that it yields a [higher] rent. However, if one assumesas Rodbertus can be said to assume, since his so-called proof is absurdthat rent clings as a percentage on to every particle of value of the agricultural product, then indeed it follows that rent rises with the increasing dearness of agricultural produce. as a result of the increased population, the value of the total national product has also grown to an extraordinary extent today, therefore, the nation draws more wages, more profit, more ground-rent furthermore, this increased amount of ground-rent has raised it, whereas the increased amount of wages and profit could not have a similar effect (p. 139).

[8. The Kernel of Truth in the Law Distorted by Rodbertus] Let us strip Herr Rodbertus of all nonsense (not to speak of such defective conceptions as I have detailed more fully above, for instance that the rate of surplus-value (level of rent) can only rise when labour becomes more productive, i.e., the overlooking of absolute surplus-value, etc.); namely the absurd conception that the value of the material does not form part of the expenditure in (capitalist) agriculture in the strict sense. The second piece of nonsense: that he does not regard the machinery etc., the second part of the constant capital of agriculture and manufacture, as a component part of value, whichjust as the value of the materialdoes not arise from the labour of the sphere of production into which it enters as machinery, and upon which the profit made in each sphere of production is also calculated, even though the value of the machinery does not add a farthing to the profit, as little as the value of the material although both are means of production and as such enter into the labour process. The third piece of nonsense: that he does not charge to agriculture the entire value of the machinery etc. which enters into it as an item of expenditure and that he does not regard that element of it which does not consist of raw material as a debit of agriculture to industry, which does not therefore belong to the expenditure of industry as a whole and in payment for which, a part of the raw material of agriculture must be supplied gratis to industry. The fourth piece of nonsense : his belief that in addition to machinery and its auxiliary materials the value of the material enters into all branches of industry, whereas this is not the case in the entire transport industry any more than it is in the extractive industry. The fifth piece of nonsense: that he does not see that although, besides variable capital, raw material does enter into many branches of manufacture (and this the more they supply finished produce for consumption) the other component part of constant capital disappears almost completely or is very small, incomparably smaller than in large-scale industry or agriculture. The sixth piece of nonsense: that he confuses the average prices of commodities with their values. Stripped of all this, which has allowed him to derive his explanation of rent from the farmers wrong calculation and his own wrong calculation, so that rent would have to disappear to the extent to which the farmer accurately calculates the outlay he makes, then only the following assertion remains as the real kernel: When the raw products are sold at their values, their value stands above the average prices of the other commodities or above their own average price, this means their value is greater than the costs of production plus average profit, thus leaving an excess profit which constitutes rent. Furthermore, assuming the same rate of surplus-value, this means that the ratio of variable capital to constant capital is greater in primary production than it is, on an average, in those spheres of production which belong to industry (which does not prevent it from being higher in some branches of industry than it is in agriculture). Or, putting it into even more general terms: agriculture belongs to that class of industries,

whose variable capital is greater proportionately to constant capital than in industry, on an average. Hence its surplus-value, calculated on its costs of production, must be higher than the average in the industrial spheres. Which means again, that its particular rate of profit stands above the average rate of profit or the general rate of profit. Which means again: when the rate of surplus-value is the same and the surplus-value itself is given, then the particular rate of profit in each sphere of production depends on the proportion of variable capital to constant capital in that particular sphere. This would therefore only be an application of the law developed by me in a general form to a particular branch of industry. ||485| Consequently: 1. One has to prove that agriculture belongs to those particular spheres of production whose commodity values are above their average prices, whose profit, so long as they appropriate it themselves and do not hand it over for the equalisation of the general rate of profit, thus stands above the average profit, yielding them, therefore, in addition to this, an excess profit. This point 1 appears certain to apply to agriculture on an average, because manual labour is still relatively dominant in it and it is characteristic of the bourgeois mode of production to develop manufacture more rapidly than agriculture. This is, however, a historical difference which can disappear. At the same time this implies that, on the whole, the means of production supplied by industry to agriculture fall in value, while the raw material which agriculture supplies to industry generally rises in value, the constant capital in a large part of manufacture has consequently a proportionately greater value than that in agriculture. In the main, this will probably not apply to the extractive industry. 2. It is wrong to say, as Rodbertus does: Ifaccording to the general lawthe agricultural product is sold on an average at its value then it must yield an excess profit, alias rent; as though this selling of the commodity at itsvalue, above its average price, were the general law of capitalist production. On the contrary, it must be shown why in primary productionby way of exception and in contrast to the class of industrial products whose value similarly stands a b o v e their average pricethe values are not reduced to the average prices and therefore yield an excess profit, alias rent. This is to be explained simply by property in land. The equalisation takes place only between capitals, because only the action of capitals on one another has the force to assert the inherent laws of capital. In this respect, those who derive rent from monopoly are right. Just as it is the monopoly of capital alone that enables the capitalist to squeeze surplus-labour out of the worker, so the monopoly of land ownership enables the landed proprietor to squeeze that part of surplus-labour from the capitalist, which would form a constant excess profit. But those who derive rent from monopoly are mistaken when they imagine that monopoly enables the landed proprietor to force the price of the commodity above its value. On the contrary, it makes it possible to maintain the value of the commodity above its average price; to sell the commodity not above, but at its value. Modified in this way, the proposition is correct. It explains the existence of rent, whereas Ricardo only explains the existence of differential rents and actually does not credit the ownership of land with any economiceffect. Furthermore, it does away with the superstructure, which with Ricardo himself was

anyhow only arbitrary and not necessary for his presentation, namely, that the agricultural industry becomes gradually less productive; it admits on the contrary that it becomes more productive. On the bourgeois basis however agriculture is relatively less productive, or slower to develop the productive power of labour, than industry, Ricardo is right when he derives his excess surplus-value not from greater productivity but from smaller productivity.

[9. Differential Rent and Absolute Rent in Their Reciprocal Relationship. Rent as an Historical Category. Smiths and Ricardos Method of Research] So far as the difference in rents is concerned, provided equal capital is invested in land areas of equal size, it is due to the difference in natural fertility, in the first place, specifically with regard to those products which supply bread, the chief nutriment; provided the lad is of equal size and fertility, differences in rent arise from unequal capital investment. The first, natural, difference causes not only the difference in the size but also in the level or rate of rent, relatively to the capital which has been laid out. The second, industrial difference, only effects a greater rent in proportion to the volume of capital which has been laid out. Successive capital investments on the same land may also have different results. The existence of different excess profits or different rents on land of varying fertility does not distinguish agriculture from industry. What does distinguish it is that those excess profits in agriculture become permanent fixtures, because here they rest on a natural basis (which, it is true, can be to some extent levelled out). In industry, on the other handgiven the same average profitthese excess profits can only turn up fleetingly and they only appear because of a change-over to more productive machines and combinations of labour. In industry it is always the most recently added, most productive capital that yields an excess profit by reducing average prices. In agriculture excess profit may be the result, and very often must be the result, not of the absolute increase in fertility of the best fields, but the relative increase in their fertility, because less productive land is being cultivated. In industry the higher relative productiveness, the excess profit (which disappears), must always be due to the absolute increase in productiveness, or productivity, of the newly invested capital compared with the old. No capital can yield an excess profit in industry (we are not concerned here with a momentary rise in demand), because less productive capitals are newly entering into the branch of industry. ||486| It can, however, also happen in agriculture (and Ricardo admits this) that more fertile landland which is either naturally more fertile or which becomes more fertile under newly developed advances in technique than the old land under the old [conditions]comes into use at a later stage and even throws a part of the old land out of cultivation (as in the mining industry and with colonial products), or forces it to turn to another type of agriculture which supplies a different product. The fact that the differences in rents (excess profits) become more or less fixed distinguishes agriculture from industry. But the fact that the market-price is determined by the average conditions of production, thus raising the price of the product which is below this average, above its price and even above its value, this fact by no means arises from the land, but from competition, from capitalist production. Hence this is not a law of nature, but a social law.

This theory neither demands the payment of rent for the worst land, nor the non-payment of rent. Similarly, it is possible that a lease rent is paid where no rent is yielded, where only the ordinary profit is made, or where not even this is made. Here the landowner draws a rent although economically none is available. Rent (excess profit) is paid only for the better (more fertile) land. Here rent as such does not exist. In such cases excess profitjust as the excess profit in industryrarely becomes fixed in the form of rent (as in the West of the United States of North America). |486|| ||486| This is the case where, on the one hand, relatively great areas of disposable land have not become private property and, on the other, the natural fertility is so great that the values of the agricultural products are equal to (sometimes below) their average prices, despite the scant development of capitalist production and therefore the high proportion of variable capital to constant capital. If their values were higher, competition would reduce them to this level. It is however absurd to say, as for example Rodbertus does, that the state [appropriates the ground-rent because it] levies, for instance, a dollar or so per acre, a low, almost nominal price. One could just as well say that the state imposes a trade tax on the pursuit of every branch of industry. In this case Ricardos law exists. Rent exists only for relatively fertile landalthough mostly not in a fixed but in a fluid state, like the excess profit in industry. The land that pays no rent does so, not because of its low fertility, but because of its high fertility. The better kinds of land pay rent, because they possess more than average fertility, as a result of their relatively higher fertility. But in countries where landed property exists, the same situation, namely that the last cultivated land pays no rent, may also occur for the reverse reasons. Supposing, for instance, that the value of the grain crops was so low (and that its low value was in no way connected with the payment of rent), that owing to the relatively low fertility of the last cultivated land the value of its crop were only equal to the average price, this means that, if the same amount of labour were expended here as on the land which carried a rent, the number of quarters would be so small (on the capital laid out), that with the average value of bread products, only the average price of wheat would be obtained. ||487| Supposing for example, that the last land which carries rent (and the land which carries the smallest rent represents pure rent; the others already differential rent) produces [with] a capital investment of 100, [a product] equal to 120 or 360 quarters of wheat at 1/3. In this case 3 quarters equal 1. Let 1 equal one weeks labour. 100 are 100 weeks labour and 120 are 120 weeks labour. 1 quarter is 1/3 of a week which is 2 days and of these 2 days or 24 hours (if the normal workingday is 12 hours) 1/5, or 4 4/5 hours, are unpaid labour which is equal to the surplus-value embodied in the quarter. 1 quarter equals 1/3 which is 6 2/3s. or 6 6/9s. If the quarter is sold at its value and the average profit is 10 per cent then the average price of the 360 quarters would be 110 and the average price per quarter 6 1/9s. The value would be 10 above the average price. And since the average profit is 10 per cent the rent would be equal to half the surplusvalue, i.e., 10 or 5/9s. per quarter. Better types of land, which would yield more quarters for the same outlay of 120 labour weeks (of which, however, only 100 are paid labour, be it materialised or living),

would, at the price of 6 6/9s. per quarter, yield a higher rent. But the worst cultivated land would yield a rent of 10 on a capital of 100 or of 5/9s. per quarter of wheat. Assume that a new piece of land is cultivated, which only yields 330 quarters with 120 labour weeks. If the value of 3 quarters is 1, then that of 330 quarters is 110. But 1 quarter would now be equal to 2 days and 2 2/11hours, while before it was equal to only two days. Previously, 1 quarter was equal to 6 6/9s. or 1 quarter was equal to 6s. 8d.; now, since 1 equals 6 days, it is equal to 7s. 3d. 1 1/11 farthing. To be sold at its value the quarter would now have to be sold at 7d. 1 1/11 farthing more, at this price it would also yield the rent of 5/9s. per quarter. The value of the wheat produced on the better land is here below the value of that produced on the worst land. If this worst land sells at the price per quarter of the next best or rent yielding land then it sells below its value but at its average price, i.e., the price at which it yields the normal profit of 10 per cent. It can therefore be cultivated and yield the normal average profit to the capitalist. There are two situations in which the worst land would here yield a rent apart from profit. Firstly if the value of the quarter of wheat were above 6 6/9s. (its price could be above 6 6/9s., i.e., above its value, as a result of demand; but this does not concern us here. The 6 6/9s., the price per quarter, which yielded a rent of 10 on the worst land cultivated previously, was equal to the value of the wheat grown on this land, which yields a non-differential rent), that is [if] the worst land previously cultivated and all others, while yielding the samerent, were proportionately less fertile, so that their value were higher above their average price and the average price of the other commodities. That the new worst land does not yield a rent is thus not due to its low fertility but to the relatively high fertility of the other land. As against the new type of land with the new capital investment, the worst, [previously] cultivated, rent-yielding lad represents rent in general, the non-differential rent. And that its rent is not higher is due to the [high] fertility of the rent-yielding land. Assume that there are three other classes of land besides the last rent-yielding land. Class II (that above I, the last rent-yielding land) carries a rent of one-fifth more because this land is one-fifth more fertile than class I; class III again one-fifth more because it is one-fifth more fertile than class II, and the same again in class IV because it is a fifth more fertile than class III. Since the rent in class I equals 10, it is 10 + 1/5 = 12 in class II, 12 + 1/5 = 142/5 in class III and 14 2/5 + 1/5 = 17 7/25 in class IV. If IVs fertility were less, the rent of III-I inclusive ||488 | would be greater and that of IV also greater absolutely (but would the proportion be the same?). This can be taken in two ways. If I were more fertile then the rent of II, III, JV would be proportionately smaller. On the other hand, I is to II, II is to III and III is to IV as the newly added, non-rent-yielding type of land is to I. The new type of land does not carry a rent because thevalue of the wheat from I is not above the average price [of that] from the new land. It would be above it if I were less fertile. Then the new land would likewise yield a rent. But the same applies to I, If II were more fertile then I would yield no rent or a smaller rent. And it is the same with II and III and with III and IV, Finally we have the reverse: The absolute fertility of IV determines the rent of III. If IV were yet more fertile, III, II, I would yield a smaller rent or no rent at all. Thus the rent yielded by I, the undifferentiated rent, is determined by the fertility of IV, just as the circumstance that

the new land yields no rent is determined by the fertility of I. Accordingly, Storchs law is valid here, namely, that the rent of the most fertile land determines the rent of the last land to yield any rent at all, and therefore also the difference between the land which yields the undifferentiated rent and that which yields no rent at all. Hence the phenomenon that here the fifth class, the newly cultivated land I (as opposed to I) yields no rent, is not to be ascribed to its own lack of fertility, but to its relative lack of fertility compared with I, therefore, to the relative fertility of I as compared with I. [Secondly ] The value [of the product] of the rent-yielding types of land I, II, III, IV, that is 6s. 8d. per quarter (to make it more realistic, one could say bushel instead of quarter), equals the average price of I and is below its own value. Now many intermediary stages are in fact possible. Supposing on a capital investment of 100, I yielded any quantity of quarters between its real return of 330 bushels and the return of I which is 360 bushels, say 333, 340, 350 up to 360x bushels. Then the value of the quarter at 6s. 8d. would be above the average price of I (per bushel) and the last cultivated land would yield a rent. That it yields the average profit at all, it owes to the relatively low fertility of I, and therefore of IIV. That it yields no rent, is due to the relatively high fertility of I and to its own relatively low fertility. The last cultivated land I could yield a rent if the value of the bushel wereabove 6s. 8d., that is, if I, II, III, IV were less fertile, for then the value of the wheat would be greater. It could however also yield a rent if the value were given at 6s. 8d., i.e., if the fertility of I, II, III and IV were the same. This would be the case if it were more fertile itself, yielded more than 330 bushels and if the value of 6s. 8d. per bushel were thus above its average price; in other words, its average price would then be below 6s. 8d., and thereforebelow the value of the wheat grown on I, II, III, IV. If the value is above the average price, then there is an excess profit above the average profit, hence the possibility of a rent. This shows: When comparing different spheres of productionfor instance industry and agriculture the fact that value is above average price indicates lower productivity in the sphere of production that yields the excess profit, the excess of value over the average price. In the same sphere, on the other hand, [it indicates] greater productivity of one capital in comparison with other capitals in the same sphere of production. In the above example, I yields a rent, only because in agriculture the proportion of variable capital to constant capital is greater than in industry, i.e., more new labour has to be added to the materialised labourand because of the existence of landed property this excess of value over average price is not levelled out by competition between capitals. But that I yields a rent at all is due to the fact that the value of 6s. 8d. per bushel is not below its average price, and that its fertility is not so low that its own value rises above 6s. 8d. per bushel. Its price moreover is not determined by its own value but by the value of the wheat grown on II, III, IV or, to be precise, by that grown on II. Whether the market-price is merely equal to its own average price or stands above it, and whether its value is above its average price, depends on its own productivity. Hence Rodbertuss view that in agriculture every capital which yields the average profit must yield rent is wrong. This false conclusion follows from his ||489| false basis. He reasons like this: The capital in agriculture, for instance, yields 10. But because, in contrast to industry, raw materials do not enter into it, the 10 are reckoned on a smaller sum. They represent therefore more than 10 per cent. But

the point is this: It is not the absence of raw materials (on the contrary, they do enter into agriculture proper; it wouldnt matter a straw if they didnt enter into it, provided machinery etc. increased proportionally) which raises the value of the agricultural products above the average price (their own and that of other commodities). Rather is this due to the higher proportion of variable to constant capital compared with that existing, not in particular spheres of industrial production, but on an average in industry as a whole. The magnitude of this general difference determines the amount and the existence of rent on No. I, the absolute, non-differential rent and hence the smallest rent. The price of wheat from I, the newly cultivated land which does not yield a rent, is, however, not determined by the value of its own product, but by the value of I, and consequently by the average market-price of the wheat supplied by I, II, III and IV. The privilege of agriculture (resulting from landed property), that it sells its product not at the average price but at its value if this value is above the average price, is by no means valid for products grown on different types of land as against one another, for products of different values produced within the same sphere of production. As against industrial products, they can only claim to be sold at their value. As against the other products of the same sphere, they are determined by the market-price, and it depends on the fertility of I whether the valuewhich equals the average market-price hereis sufficiently high or low, i.e., whether the fertility of I is sufficiently high or low, for I, if it is sold at this value, to participate little, much or not at all in the general difference between the value and the average price of wheat. But, since Herr Rodbertus makes no distinction at all between values and average prices, and since he considers it to be a general law for all commodities, and not a privilege of agricultural products, that they are sold at their valueshe must of course believe that the product of the least fertile land has also to be sold at its individual value. But it loses this privilege in competition with products of the same type. Now it is possible for the average price of I to be above 6s. 8d. per bushel, the value of I. It can be assumed (although this is not quite correct), that for land I to be cultivated at all, demand must increase. The price of wheat from I must therefore rise above its value, above 6s. 8d., and indeed persistently so. In this case land I will be cultivated, If it can make the average profit at 6s. 8d. although its value is above 6s. 8d. and if it can satisfy demand, then the price will be reduced to 6s. 8d., since demand now again corresponds to supply, and so I must sell at 6s. 8d. again, ditto II, III, IV; hence also I. If, on the other hand, the average price in I amounted to 7s. 8d. so that it could make the usual profit at this price only (which would be far below its individual value) and if the demand could not be otherwise satisfied, then the value of the bushel would have to consolidate itself at 7s. 8d. and the demand price of I would rise above its value. That of II, III, IV, which is already above their individual value, would rise even higher. If, on the other hand, there were prospects of grain imports which would by no means permit of such a stabilisation, then I could nevertheless be cultivated if small farmers were prepared to be satisfied with less than the average profit. This is constantly happening in both agriculture and industry. Rent could be paid in this case just as when I yields the average profit, but it would merely be a deduction from the farmers profit. If this could not be done either, then the landlord could lease the land to cottagers whose main concern, like that of the hand-loom weaver, is to get their wages out of it and to pay the surplus, large or small, to the landlord in the form of rent. As in

the case of the hand-loom weaver, this surplus could even be a mere deduction, not from the product of labour, but from the wages of labour. In all these instances rent could be paid. In one case it would be a deduction from the capitalists profit. In the other case, the landlord would appropriate the surpluslabour of the worker which would otherwise be appropriated by the capitalist. And in the final case he would live off the workers wage as the capitalists are also often wont to do. But large-scale capitalist production is only possible where the last cultivated land yields at least the average profit, that is where the value of I enables I, to realise at least the average price. One can see how the differentiation between value and average price surprisingly solves the question and shows that Ricardo and his opponents are right. ||XI-490| If I, the land which yields absolute rent, were the only cultivated land, then it would sell the bushel of wheat at its value, at 6s. 8d. or 6 6/9s. and not reduce it to the average price of 6 1/9s. or 6s. 1 1/3d. If all land were of the same type and if the cultivated area increased tenfold, because demand grew, then since I yields a rent of 10 per 100, the rent would grow to 100, although only a single type of land existed. But its rate or level would not grow, neither compared with the capital advanced nor compared with the area of land cultivated. Ten times as many acres would be cultivated and ten times as much capital advanced. This would therefore merely be an augmentation of the rental, of the volume of rent, not of its level. The rate of profit would not fall; for the value and price of the agricultural products would remain the same. A capital which is ten times as large can naturally hand over a rent which is ten times larger than a capital which is one-tenth its size. On the other hand, if ten times as much capital were employed on the same area of land with the same result, then the rate of rent compared with the capital laid out would have remained the same; it would have risen in proportion to the area of land, but would not have altered the rate of profit in any way. Now supposing the cultivation of I became more productive, not because the land had altered but because more constant capital and less variable capital is being laid out, that is more capital is being spent on machinery, horses, mineral fertilisers etc. and less on wages; then the value of wheat would approach its average price and the average price of the industrial products, because the excess in the ratio of variable to constant capital would have decreased. In this case rent would fall and the rate of profit would remain unaltered. If the mode of production changed in such a way that the ratio of variable to constant capital became the same as the average ratio in industry, then the excess of value over the average price of wheat would disappear and with it rent, excess profit. Category I would no longer pay a rent, and landed property would have become nominal (in so far as the altered mode of production is not in fact accompanied by additional capital being embodied in the land, so that, on the termination of the lease, the owner might draw interest on a capital which he himself had not advanced; this is indeed a principal means by which landowners enrich themselves, and the dispute about tenantry-right in Ireland revolves around this very point). Now if, besides I, there also existed II, III, IV, in all of which this mode of production were applied, then they would still yield rents because of their greater natural fertility and the rent would be in proportion to the degree of their fertility. Category I would in this case have ceased to yield a rent and the rents of II, III, IV would have fallen accordingly, because the general ratio of productivity in agriculture had become equal to that prevailing in industry. The rent of II, III, IV would correspond with the Ricardian law; it would merely be equivalent

to, and would exist only as an excess profit of more fertile compared to less fertile land, like similar excess profits in industry, except in the latter they lack the natural basis for consolidation. The Ricardian law would prevail just the same, even if landed property were non-existent. With the abolition of landed property and the retention of capitalist production, this excess profit arising from the difference in fertility would remain. If the state appropriated the land and capitalist production continued, then rent from II, III, IV would be paid to the state, but rent as such would remain. If landed property became peoples property then the whole basis of capitalist production would go, the foundation on which rests the confrontation of the worker by the conditions of labour as an independent force. A question which is to be later examined in connection with rent: How is it possible for rent to rise in value and in amount, with more intensive cultivation, although the rate of rent falls in relation to the capital advanced? This is obviously only possible because the amount of capital advanced rises. If rent is 1/5 and it becomes 1/10, then 20 1/5 = 4 and 50 1/10 = 5. Thats all. But if conditions of production in intensive cultivation became the same as those prevailing on an average in industry, instead of only approximating to them, then rent for the least fertile land would disappear and for the most fertile it would be reduced merely to the difference in the land. Absolute rent would no longer exist. Now let us assume that, following upon a rise in demand, new land, II, were cultivated in addition to I. Category I pays the absolute rent, II would pay a differential rent, but the price of wheat (value for I, excess value for II) remains the same. The rate of profit, too, [is supposed] not to be affected, And so on till we come to IV. Thus the level, the rate of rent is also rising if we take the total capital laid out in I, II, III, IV. But the average rate of profit from II, III, IV would remain the same as that from I, which equals that in industry, the general rate of profit. Thus if ||491| we go on to more fertile land, the amount and rate of rent can grow, although the rate of profit remains unchanged and the price of wheat constant. The rise in level and amount of rent would be due to the growing productivity of the capital in II, III, IV, not to the diminishing productivity in I. But the growing productivity would not cause a rise in profits and a fall both in the price of the commodity and in wages, as happens necessarily in industry. Supposing, however, the reverse process took place: from IV to III, II, I, Then the price would rise to 6s. 8d. at which it would still yield a rent of 10 on 100 on I. For the rent of wheat on IV [amounts to] 17 7/25 on 100, of which, however, 7 7/25 are the excess of its price over the value of I. Category I gave 360 bushels at 100 (with a rent of 10 and the value of the bushel at 6s. 8d.) . II432 bushels. III 518 2/5 bushels and IV622 2/25 bushels. But the price per bushel of 6s. 8d yielded IV an excess rent of 7 7/25 per 100. IV sells 3 bushels for 1 or 622 2/25 bushels at 207 9/25. But its value is only 120, as in I; whatever is above this amount is excess of its price over its value. IV would sell the bushel at its value or rather, [he would sell it at its value] if he sold it, at 3s. 10 8/27d. and at this price he would have a rent of 10 on 100. The movement from IV to III, III to II and II to I, causes the price per bushel (and with it the rent) to rise until it eventually reaches 6s. 8d. with I, where this price now yields the same rent that it previously yielded with IV. The rate of profit would fall with the rise in price, partly owing to the rise in value of the means of subsistence and raw materials. The transition from IV to III could happen like this: Due to demand, the price of IV rises above its value, hence it yields not only rent but excess

rent. Consequently III is cultivated which, with the normal average profit, is not supposed to yield a rent at this price, If the rate of profit has not fallen as a result of the rise in price of IV, but wages, have, then III will yield the average profit. But due to the [additional] supply from III, wages should rise to their normal level again; (then] the rate of profit in III falls etc. Thus the rate of profit falls with this downward movement on the assumptions which we have made, namely, that III cannot yield a rent at the price of IV and that III can only be cultivated at the old rate of profit because wages have momentarily fallen below their [normal] level. Under these conditions [it is again possible for] the Ricardian law [to apply]. But not necessarily, even according to his interpretation. It is merely possible in certain circumstances. In reality the movements are contradictory. This has disposed of the essence of the theory of rent. With Herr Rodbertus, rent arises from eternal nature, at least of capitalist production, because of his value of the material. In our view rent arises from an historical difference in the organic component parts of capital which may be partially ironed out and indeed disappear completely, with the development of agriculture. True, the difference in so far as it is merely due to variation in actual fertility of the land remains even if the absolute rent disappeared. Butquite apart from the possible ironing out of natural variationsdifferential rent is linked with the regulation of the market-price and therefore disappears along with the price and with capitalist production. There would remain only the fact that land of varying fertility is cultivated by social labour and, despite the difference in the amount of labour employed, labour can become more productive on all types of land. But the amount of labour used on the worse land would by no means result in more labour being paid for [the product] of the better land as now with the bourgeois. Rather would the labour saved on IV be used for the improvement of III and that saved from III for the improvement of II and finally that saved on II would be used to improve I. Thus the whole of the capital eaten up by the landowners would serve to equalise the labour used for the cultivation of the soil and to reduce the amount of labour in agriculture as a whole. ||492| {Adam Smith, as we saw above, first correctly interprets value and the relation existing between profit, wages, etc. as component parts of this value, and then he proceeds the other way round, regards the prices of wages, profit and rent as antecedent factors and seeks to determine them independently, in order then to compose the price of the commodity out of them. The meaning of this change of approach is that first he grasps the problem in its inner relationships, and then in the reverse form, as it appears in competition. These two concepts of his run counter to one another in his work, naively, without his being aware of the contradiction. Ricardo, on the other hand, consciously abstracts from the form of competition, from the appearance of competition, in order to comprehend the laws as such. On the one hand he must be reproached for not going far enough, for not carrying his abstraction to completion, for instance, when he analyses the value of the commodity, he at once allows himself to be influenced by consideration of all kinds of concrete conditions. On the other hand one must reproach him for regarding the phenomenal form as immediate and direct proof or exposition of the

general laws, and for failing to interpret it. In regard to the first, his abstraction is too incomplete; in regard to the second, it is formal abstraction which in itself is wrong.}

[10. Rate of Rent and Rate of Profit. Relation Between Productivity in Agriculture and in Industry in the Different Stages of Historical Development] Now to return briefly to the remainder of Rodbertus. The increase in wages, capital gain and ground-rent respectively, which arises from the increase in the value of the national product can raise neither the wages nor the capital gain of the nation, since more wages are now distributed among more workers and a greater amount of capital gain accrues to capital increased in the same proportion; ground-rent, on the other hand, must rise since this always accrues to land whose area has remained the same. It is thus possible to explain satisfactorily the great rise in land value, which is nothing other than ground-rent capitalised at the normal rate of interest, without having to resort to a fall in productivity of agricultural labour, which is diametrically opposed to the idea of the perfectibility of human society and to all agricultural and statistical facts (pp. 16061). First of all it should be noted that Ricardo [at whom this passage is aimed] nowhere seeks to explain the great rise in land value. This is no problem at all for him. He says further, and Ricardo even noted this explicitly (see later in connection with Ricardo), thatgiven the rate of rentrent can increase with a constant value of corn or agricultural produce. This increase again presents no problem for him. The rise in the rental while the rate of rent remains the same, is no problem for him either. His problem lies in the rise in the rate of rent, i.e., rent in proportion to the agricultural capital advanced, and hence the rise in value not of the amount of agricultural produce, but the rise in the value, for example, of the quarter of wheat, i.e., of the same quantity of agricultural produce; in consequence of this the excess of its value over the average price increases and thereby also the excess of rent over the rate of profit. Herr Rodbertus here begs the Ricardian problem (to say nothing of his erroneous value of the material). The rate of rent can indeed rise relatively to the capital advanced, in other words, the relative value of the agricultural product can rise in proportion to the industrial product, even though agriculture is constantly becoming more productive. And this can happen for two reasons. Firstly take the above example, the transition from I to II, III, IV, i.e., to ever more fertile land (but where the additional supply is not so great as to throw I out of cultivation or to reduce the difference between value and average price to such an extent that IV, III, II pay relatively lower rents and I no rent at all). If Is rent amounts to 10, IIs to 20, IIIs to 30 and IVs to 40 and if 100 are invested in all four types of land, then Is rent would be1/10 or 10 per cent on the capital advanced, IIs would be 2/10 or 20 per cent, IIIs would be 3/10 or 30 per cent and IVs rent would be 4/10 or 40 per cent. Altogether 100 on 400 capital advanced, which gives an average rate of rent of 100/4=25 per cent. Taking the entire capital invested in agriculture, the rent amounts now to 25 per cent. Had only the cultivation of land I (the unfertile land) been extended, then the rent would be 40 on 400, 10 per cent just as before, and it

would not have risen by 15 per cent. But in the first case (if 330 bushels resulted from an outlay of 100 on I) only 1,320 bushels would have been produced at the price of 6s. 8d. per bushel. In the second case [i.e., when all four classes of land are cultivated], 1,500 bushels have been produced at the same price. The same capital has been advanced in both cases. But the rise in the level of the rent here is only apparent. For if we calculate the capital outlay in relation to the product, then 100 [would have been] needed in I to produce 330 and 400 to produce 1,320 bushels. But now only 100+90+80+70, i.e., 340 are needed to produce 1,320 bushels. 90 in II produce as much as 100 in I, 80 in III as much as 90 in II and 70 in IV as much as 80 in III. The rate of rent [has] risen in II, III, IV, compared with I. If we take society as a whole, it means that a capital of 340 [was] employed to raise the same product, instead of a capital of 400, that is 85 per cent [of the previous] capital. ||493| The 1,320 bushels [would] only be distributed, in a different way from those in the first case. The farmer must hand over as much on 90 as previously on 100, as much on 80 as previously on 90 and as much on 70 as previously on 80. But the capital outlay of 90, 80, 70, gives him just the same amount of product as he previously obtained on 100. He hands over more, not because he must employ more capital in order to supply the same product, but because he employs less capital; not because his capital has become less productive, but because it has become more productive and he is still selling at the price of I, as though he still required the same capital as before in order to produce the same quantity of product. [Secondly.] Apart from this rise in the rate of rentwhich corresponds to the uneven rise in excess profit in individual branches of industry, though here it does not become fixed there is only one other possibility of the rate of rent rising although the value of the product remains the same, that is, labour does not become less productive. It occurs either when productivity in agriculture remains the same as before but productivity in industry rises and this rise expresses itself in a fall in the rate of profit, in other words when the ratio of variable to constant capital diminishes. Or, alternatively, when productivity is rising in agriculture as well though not at the same rate as in industry but at a lower rate. If productivity in agriculture rises as 1:2 and in industry as 1:4, then it is relatively the same as if it had remained at one in agriculture and had doubled in industry, In this case the ratio of variable capital to constant capital would be decreasing in industry twice as fast as in agriculture. In both cases the rate of profit in industry would fall, and because it fell the rate of rent would rise. In the other instances the rate of profit does not fall absolutely (rather it remains constant) but it falls relatively to rent. It does so not because it itself is decreasing but because rent, the rate of rent in relation to the capital advanced, is rising. Ricardo does not differentiate between these cases. Except in these cases (that is where the rate of profit, although constant, falls relatively because of the differential rents of the capital employed on the more fertile types of land or where the general ratio of constant to variable capital alters as a result of the increased productivity of industry and hence increases the excess of value of agricultural products above their average price) the rate of rent can only rise if the rate of profit falls without industry

becoming more productive. This is, however, only possible if wages rise or if raw material rises in value as a result of the lower productivity of agriculture. In this case both the fall in the rate of profit and the rise in the level of rent are brought about by the same causethe decrease in the productivity of agriculture and of the capital employed in agriculture. This is how Ricardo sees it. With the value of moneyremaining the same, this must then show itself in a rise in the prices of the raw products. If, as above, the rise is relative, then no change in the price of money can raise the money prices of agricultural products absolutely as compared with industrial products. If money fell by 50 per cent then l quarter which was previously worth 3 would now be worth 6, but 1 lb. yarn which was previously worth 1s. would now be worth 2s. The absolute rise in the money prices of agricultural products compared with industrial products can therefore never be explained by changes in [the value of] money. On the whole it can be assumed that under the cruder, pre-capitalist mode of production, agriculture is more productive than industry, because nature assists here as a machine and an organism, whereas in industry the powers of nature are still almost entirely replaced by human action (as in the craft type of industry etc.). In the period of the stormy growth of capitalist production, productivity in industry develops rapidly as compared with agriculture, although its development presupposes that a significant change as between constant and variable capital has already taken place in agriculture, that is, a large number of people have been driven off the land. Later, productivity advances in both, although at a uneven pace. But when industry reaches a certain level the disproportion must diminish, in other words, productivity in agriculture must increase relatively more rapidly than in industry. This requires: 1. The replacement of the easy-going farmer by the businessman, the fanning capitalist; transformation of the husbandman into a pure wage-labourer; large-scale agriculture, i.e., with concentrated capitals. 2. In particular however: Mechanics, the really scientific basis of large-scale industry, had reached a certain degree of perfection during the eighteenth century. The development of chemistry, geology and physiology, the sciences thatdirectly form the specific basis of agriculture rather than of industry, ||494| does not take place till the nineteenth century and especially the later decades. It is nonsense to talk of the greater or lesser productivity of two different branches of industry when merely comparing the values of their commodities. If, [in] 1800, the pound of cotton was 2s. and of yarn 4s., and if, in 1830, the value of cotton was 2s. or 18d. and that of yarn 3s. or 1s. 8d. then one might compare the proportion in which the productivity in both branches had grownbut only because the rate of 1800 is taken as the starting-point. On the other hand, because the pound of cotton is 2s, and that of yarn is 3, and hence the labour which produces the cotton is as great again as the [newly-added labour] of spinning, it would be absurd to say that the one is twice as productive as the other. Just as absurd as it would be to say that because canvas can be made more cheaply than the artists painting on the canvas, the labour of the latter is less productive than that of the former. Only the following is correct, even if it comprises the capitalist meaning of productiveproductive of surplus-value along with the relative amounts of the product: If, on an average, according to the conditions of production, 500 is needed in the form of raw material and machinery etc.<at given values> in order to employ 100 workers [whose wages] amount to 100 in the cotton industry, and, on the other hand, 150 is needed for raw materials and machinery in order to

employ 100 workers [whose wages] amount to 100, in the cultivation of wheat, then the variable capital in I would form 1/6 of the total capital of 600, and 1/5 of the constant capital; in II, the variable capital would constitute 2/5 of the total capital of 250 and 2/3 of constant capital. Thus every 100 which is laid out in I can only contain 16 2/3 variable capital and must contain 83 1/3 constant capital; whereas in II it comprises 40 of variable capital and 60 of constant, In I, variable capital forms 1/6 or 16 2/3 per cent and in II, 40 per cent. Clearly the histories of prices are at present quite wretched. And they can be nothing but wretched until theory shows what needs to be examined. If the rate of surplusvalue were given at, say, 20 per cent then the surplus-value in I would amount to 3 1/3 (hence profit 31/3 per cent). In II, however, 8 (hence profit 8 per cent). Labour in I would not be so productive as in II because it would be more productive (in other words, not so productive of surplus-value, because it is more productive of produce). Incidentally, it is cleary only possible to have a ratio of 1 :1/6, for example, in the cotton industry, if a constant capital (this depends on the machines etc.) amounting to say 10,000 has been laid out, hence wages amounting to 2,000, making a total capital of 12,000. If only 6,000 were laid out, of which wages would be 1,000, then the machinery would be less productive etc. At 100 it could not be done at all. On the other had it is possible that if 23,000 is laid out, the resulting increase in the efficiency of the machinery and other economies etc. are so great that the 19,166 2/3 is not entirely allocated to constant capital, but that more raw material and the same amount of labour require less machinery etc. ([in terms of] value) which is assumed to cost 1,000 less than before. Then the ratio of variable to constant capital grows again, but only because the absolute [amount of] capital has grown. This is a check against the fall in the rate of profit. Two capitals of 12,000 would produce the same quantity of commodities as the one of 23,000, but firstly the commodities would be dearer since they required an outlay of 1,000 more, and secondly the rate of profit would be smaller because within the capital of 23,000, the variable capital is more than 1/6 of the total capital, i.e., more than in the sum of the two capitals of 12,000. |494|| ||494| (On the one hand, with the advance of industry, machinery becomes more effective and cheaper; hence, if only the same quantify of machinery were employed as in the past, this part of constant capital in agriculture would diminish; but the quantity of machinery grows faster than the reduction in its price, since this element is as yet little developed in agriculture. On the other hand, with the greater productivity of agriculture, the price of raw materialsee cottonfalls, so that raw material does not increase as a component part of the process of creating value to the same degree as it increases as a component part of the labour-process.) |494|| *** ||494| Already Petty tells us that the Landlord of his time feared improvements in agriculture because they would cause the price of agricultural products and (the level of) rent to fall; ditto the extension of the land and the cultivation of previously unused land which is equivalent to an extension of the land. (In Holland this extension of the land is to be understood in an even more direct way.) He says: that the draining of Fens, improving of Forestsa, inclosing of Commons, Sowing of St. Foyne and Clovergrass, be grumbled against by Landlords, as the way to depress the Price ofVictuals([William Petty+, Political Arithmetick *in: Several Essays in Political Arithmetick,] London, 1699, p. 230.)

(the Rent of all England *+ Wales, and the Low-Lands of Scotland, be about Nine Millions per Annum ) (Ibid., p. 231.) Petty fights this view and DAvenant goes ||495| even further and shows how the level of rent may decrease while the amount of rent or the rental increases, He says: Rents may fall in some Places, and Counties, and yet the Land of the Nation (he means value of the land) improve all the while: As for Example, when Parks are disparkd, and Forests, and Commons are taken in, and enclosd; when Fen-Lands are dreind, and when many Parts (of the country) are meliorated by Industry, and manuring[e] it must certainly depretiate that Ground which has been Improvd to the full before, or[f] c was capable of no farther Improvement *+ the Rental[g] of private Men does thereby sink, yet the general Rental[h] of the Kingdom by such Improvements, at the same time rises. (Charles DAvenant, Discourses on the Publick Revenues, and on the Trade of England, Part II, London, 1698, pp. 2627.) fall in private Rents from 1666 to 1688 *+ but the Rise in the Kingdomes general Rental was greater in Proportion during that time, than in the preceeding Years, because the Improvements upon Land were greater and more universal, between those two Periods, than at any time before (l.c. p. 28). It is also evident here, that the Englishman always regards the levef of rent as rent related to capital and never to the total land in the kingdom (or to the acre in general, like Herr Rodbertus).

[a] Instead of of the towns has therefore become in the manuscript: In Dutch towns is.Ed. [b] Instead of and the in the manuscript: on.Ed * ||486| <As Opdyke calls landed property the legalised reflection of the capital, so capital is the legalised reflection of other peoples labour.> |486|| [c] Instead of reflection of the capital in the manuscript: reflection of the value of capital.Ed. [d] In the manuscript: woods.Ed. [e] In the manuscript: manufacturing instead of manuring.Ed. [f] In the manuscript: and instead of or.Ed. [g] In the manuscript: income from rent instead of Rental.Ed. [h] In the manuscript: rent instead of Rental.Ed.

Theories of Surplus Value, Marx 1861-3

[Chapter XI] Ricardos Theory of Rent. [1. Historical Conditions for the Development of the Theory of Rent by Anderson and Ricardo]
The main points were dealt with when discussing Rodbertus. Just a few more gleanings here. Firstly, some comments on the historical aspect: Ricardo was first of all concerned with the period 1770-1815, which came approximately within his own experience, and during which wheat prices were constantly rising. Anderson [on the other hand] was concerned with the eighteenth century, at the close of which he was writing. During the first half of that century wheat prices were falling and during the second half they were rising. Hence for Anderson, the law he discovered was in no way connected with a diminishing productivity of agriculture or a normal <for Anderson an unnatural> rise in the price of the product. For Ricardo however such a connection existed. Anderson believed that the abolition of the corn laws (at that time export premiums) caused the rise in prices during the second half of the eighteenth century. Ricardo knew that the introduction of corn laws (1815) was intended to prevent the fall in prices, and to a certain degree was bound to do so. With regard to the latter [it was] therefore necessary to point out that, if left to itself, the law of rentwithin a definite territorywas bound to result in recourse to less fertile land, thus leading to dearer agricultural products and increased rent at the cost of industry and the mass of the population. And here Ricardo was right, both historically and in practice. Anderson on the other hand [maintained] that corn laws (and he also favours a duty on imports) must further the even development of agriculture within a definite territory and that for this even development agriculture needs security. Consequently he [maintained] that this progressive development in itselfthrough the law of rent he discoveredwould lead to increased productivity in agriculture and thereby to a fall in the average prices of agricultural produce. Both of them, however, start out from the viewpoint which, on the continent, seems so strange: 1. That there is no Landed property to shackle any desired investment of capital in land. 2. That expansion takes place from better land to worse (this process is absolute for Ricardo, provided one leaves out of account the interruptions caused by the response of science and industry; for Anderson the worse land is in turn transformed into better land and so it is relative). 3. That a sufficient amount of capital is always available for investment in agriculture. Now so far as 1. and 2. are concerned, it must seem very odd to the continentals, that in the country in which, according to their conception, feudal landed property has maintained itself most stubbornly, the

economists, Anderson as well as Ricardo, start out from the conception that no landed property exists. The explanation for this is: firstly: the peculiarity of the English law of enclosures, which is in no way analogous with the continental portioning out of common land; secondly: nowhere in the world has capitalist production, since Henry VII, dealt so ruthlessly with the traditional relations of agriculture, adapting and subordinating the conditions to its own requirements. In this respect England is the most revolutionary country in the world. Wherever the conditions handed down from history were at variance with, or did not correspond to, the requirements of capitalist production on the land, they were ruthlessly swept away; this applies not only to the position of the village communities but to the village communities themselves, not only to the habitats of the agricultural population but to the agricultural population itself, not only to the original centres of cultivation, but to cultivation itself. The German, for example, meets with economic relations that are determined by traditional circumstances such as land boundaries, the position of the economic centres, given conglomerations of the population. The Englishman meets with historical conditions of agriculture which have been progressively created by capital since the end of the 15th century. Clearing of estates, a technical term *well-known] in the United Kingdom, will not be found in any continental country. But what is the meaning of this clearing of estates? It means that without any consideration for the local inhabitants, who are driven away, for existing village communities, which are obliterated, for agricultural buildings, which are torn down, for the type of agriculture, which is transformed in one fell swoop, for instance arable land converted into grazing pasture[in short] none of the conditions of production are accepted as they have traditionally existed but are historically transformed in such a way that under the circumstances, they will provide the most profitable investment for capital. To that extent, therefore, no landed property exists; it gives capitali.e., the farmerfull scope, since it is only concerned with monetary income. A Pomeranian landowner, therefore, with his head full of ancestral land boundaries, centres of economy and lectures on agriculture etc., may well be amazed by Ricardos unhistorical view of the ||561| development of conditions in agriculture. This shows merely that he navely confuses Pomeranian conditions with those prevailing in England. But it cannot be said that Ricardo, who in this case starts from the conditions in England, is just as narrow-minded as the Pomeranian landowner, who can think only in terms of Pomeranian conditions. English conditions are the only ones in which modern landownership, i.e., landownership which has been modified by capitalist production, has been adequately developed. For the modernthe capitalistmode of production, the English view is here the classical view. The Pomeranian, on the other hand, judges the developed relations from a historically lower and as yet inadequate form. Indeed, most of Ricardos continental critics even take as their starting-point conditions in which the capitalist mode of production, adequate or inadequate, does not as yet exist at all. It is as if a guildmaster wanted, lock, stock and barrel, to apply Adam Smiths lawswhich presuppose free competitionto his guild economy. The presupposition of the movement from better to worse landrelatively to the particular stage in the development of the productive power of labour as with Anderson, and not absolutely as with Ricardo

could only arise in a country such as England, where within a relatively very small territory capital has farmed so ruthlessly and has for centuries mercilessly sought to adapt to its own needs all traditional relationships of agriculture. Thus it [the presupposition] could only arise where, unlike the continent, capitalist production in agriculture does not date from yesterday and does not have to fight against old traditions. A second factor influencing the English was the knowledge they gained through their colonies. We have seen that Adam Smiths workwith direct reference to the coloniesalready contains the basis for the entire Ricardian viewpoint. In these colonies, and especially in those which produced only merchandise such as tobacco, cotton, sugar etc. and not the usual foodstuffs, where, right from the start, the colonists did not seek subsistence but set up a business, fertility was of course decisive, given the situation [of the land], and given the fertility, the situation of the land was decisive. They did not act like the Germans, who settled in Germany in order to make their home there, but like people who, driven by motives of bourgeois production, wanted to produce commodities, and their point of view was, from the outset, determined not by the product but by the sale of the product. That Ricardoand other English writers transferred this point of viewwhich emanated from people who were themselves already the product of the capitalist mode of productionfrom the colonies to the course of world history and that they took the capitalist mode of production as a premise for agriculture in general, as it was for their colonists, is due to the fact that they saw in these colonies, only in more obvious form, without the fight against traditional relations, and therefore untarnished, the same domination of capitalist production in agriculture as hits the eye everywhere in their own country. Hence, if a German professor or landownerbelonging to a country which differs from all others in its complete lack of colonies considers such a view to be false, then this is quite understandable. Finally the presupposition of a continuous flow of capital from one sphere of production into another, this basic assumption of Ricardos amounts to nothing more than the assumption that developed capitalist production predominates. Where this domination is not yet established, this presupposition does not exist. For instance, a Pomeranian landowner will find it strange that neither Ricardo nor indeed any English writer ever suspects that agriculture might lack capital. The Englishman does, indeed, complain of lack of land in proportion to capital, but never of a lack of capital in proportion to the land. Wakefield, Chalmers, etc. try to explain the fall in the rate of profit from the former circumstance. The latter does not exist for any English writer; Corbet notes as a self-explanatory fact, that capital is always redundant in all branches of production. On the other hand, bearing in mind the situation in Germany, the landowners difficulties in borrowing moneybecause mostly it is the landowner himself who cultivates the land and not a capitalist class which is quite independent of him it is understandable that Herr Rodbertus, for example, is surprised at the Ricardian fiction, that the supply of capital is regulated by the desire to invest it. ([Sociale Briefe an v. Kirchmann. Dritter Brief, Berlin, 1851] p. 211.) What the Englishman lacks is a field of action, opportunity for investment of the available stock of capital. But a desire for capital to invest, on the part of the only class which has capital to investthe capitalist classthis does not exist in England. ||562| This desire for capital is Pomeranian.

The objection made by English writers against Ricardo was not that capital was not available in any desired quantity for particular investments, but that the return flow of capital from agriculture encountered specific technical etc. obstacles. This kind of critical-continental censoriousness of Ricardo, therefore, only shows the lower stage in the conditions of production from which these sages start out. [2. The Connection Between Ricardos Theory of Rent and His Explanation of Cost-Prices] Now to the matter in hand. In the first place, in order to isolate the problem, we must leave aside entirely differential rent, which alone exists for Ricardo. By differential rent I understand the difference in the magnitude of rentthe greater or smaller rent which is due to the different fertility of the various types of land. (Given equal fertility, differential rent can only arise from differences in the amounts of capital invested. This case does not exist for our problem and does not affect it.) This differential rent merely corresponds to the excess profits which, given the market-price or, more correctly, the market-value, will be made in every branch of industry, for example cotton spinning, bythat capitalist whose conditions of production are better than the average conditions of this particular trade. For the value of the commodity of a particular sphere of production is determined, not by the quantity of labourwhich the individual commodity costs, but by the quantity which the commodity costs that is produced under the average conditions of the sphere. Manufacture and agriculture only differ from one another here in that in the one, the excess profits fall into the pocket of the capitalist himself, whereas in the other they are pocketed by the landowner, and furthermore, that in the former they are f l u i d, they are not lasting, are made by this capitalist or that, and always disappear again, while in the latter they become fixed because of their enduring (at least for a long period) natural basis in the variations in the land. This differential rent must therefore be left out of account, but it should be noted that it may exist not only when a movement from better to inferior land takes place but also from inferior to better land. In both cases the only requirement is that the newly cultivated land is necessary but at the same time only just sufficient to satisfy the additional demand. If the newly cultivated, better land were more than sufficient to satisfy the additional demand then, according to the volume of the additional demand, part or all of the inferior land would be thrown out of cultivation or, at any rate, out of cultivation of that product which forms the basis of the agricultural rent, i.e., in England of wheat and in India of rice. Thus differential rent does not presuppose a progressive deterioration of agriculture, but can equally well spring from a progressive improvement in it. Even where it is based on the descent to worse types of land, firstly this descent may be due to an improvement in the productive forces of agriculture, in that the cultivation of the worse land, at the price which is set by demand, is only made possible by greater productive power. Secondly, the worse land can be improved; the differences will nevertheless remain, although they will become smaller, so that as a result there is only a relative, comparative decrease in productivity whereas absolute productivity increases. This was in fact the presupposition made by Anderson, the original author of the Ricardian law.

Then, in the second instance, only the agricultural rent in the strict sense should be considered here, in other words the rent of the land which supplies the chief vegetable foods. Smith has already explained that the rents of land which supplies the other products, such as stock-raising etc., are determined by that rent; that they are themselves derived, determined by the law of rent and not determining it. In themselves therefore these rents do not furnish any useful material for the understanding of the law of rent in its original, pure condition: There is nothing primary about them. This settled, the question is reduced to the following: Does an absolute rent exist? That is, a rent which arises from the fact that capital is invested in agriculture rather than manufacture; a rent which is quite independent ofdifferential rent or excess profits which are yielded by capital invested in better land? It is clear that Ricardo correctly answers this question in the negative, since he starts from the false assumption that values and average prices of commodities are identical, If this were the case, it would be a tautology to say that the price of agricultural products is above their cost-pricewhen ||563| the constant price of agricultural products yields, beyond the average profits, also an extra rent, a constant surplus over and above the average profitfor this cost-price equals the advances plus the average profit and nothing else. Were the prices of agricultural products to stand above their costprices, and always to yield an excess profit, they would consequently standabove their value. There would be no alternative but to assume that agricultural products are perpetually sold above their value, which, however, equally presupposes that all other products are sold below their value, or that value in general is something quite different from that which the theory requires it to be. Taking into account all compensations which take place between the different capitals owing to differences arising from the process of circulation,the same quantity of labour (immediate and accumulated) would produce a higher value in agriculture than in manufacture. The value of the commodity would therefore not be determined by the quantity of labour contained in it. The whole foundation of political economy would thus be thrown overboard. Ergo, Ricardo rightly concludes: no absolute rents. Only differential rent is possible; in other words the value of the agricultural product grown on the worst land equals the costprice of the product, as [with] every other commodity, [this is equal to its] value. The capital invested in the worst land differs from capital invested in manufacture only by the type of investment, by its being a particular species of investment. Here therefore the universal validity of the law of value becomes apparent. Differential rentand this is the sole rent on better landis nothing but the excess profit yielded by capitals employed in above-average conditions owing to the [establishment of] one identical market-value in every sphere of production. This excess profit consolidates itself only in agriculture because of its natural basis and, furthermore, the excess profit flows not into the pocket of the capitalist but into that of the landowner since it is the landowner who represents this natural basis. The entire argument collapses together with Ricardos assumption, that costprice equals value. The theoretical interest which forces him into a denial of absolute rent disappears. If the value of the commodities differs from their cost-price, then they necessarily fall into three categories. In the first category, cost-price is equal to the value of the commodity, in the second, the value is below its cost-price and in the third it is above its cost-price. The fact, therefore, that the price of the agricultural product yields a rent, only shows that the agricultural product belongs to that group of commodities whose value is above their cost-price. The only remaining problem requiring

solution would be: why, in contrast to other commodities whose value is also above their cost-price, competition between capitals does not reduce the value of agricultural products to their cost-price. The question already contains the answer. Because, according to the presupposition, this can only happen in so far as the competition between capitals is able to effect such an equalisation, and this in turn can only occur to the extent that all the conditions of production are either directly created by capital or are equallyelementallyat its disposal as if it had created them. With land this is not the case, because landed property exists and capitalist production starts its career on the presupposition of landed property, which is not its own creation, but which was already there before it. The mere existence of landed property thus answers the question. All that capital can do is to subject agriculture to the conditions of capitalist production. But it cannot deprive landed property of its hold on that part of the agricultural product which capital could appropriatenot through its own actionbut only on the assumption of the non-existence of landed property. Since landed property exists, capital must however leave the excess of value over cost-price to the landowner. But this difference [between value and costprice] itself only arises from a difference in the composition of the organic component parts of capital. All commodities whose value, in accordance with this organic composition, is above the costprice, thereby show that the labour expended on them is relatively less productive than that expended on the commodities whose value is equal to the cost-price and even less productive than that expended on the commodities whose value is below the cost-price; for they require a greater quantity of immediate labour in proportion to the past labour contained in the constant capital; they require more labour in order to set in motion a definite capital. This is a historical difference and can therefore disappear. The same chain of reasoning which demonstrates the possibility of the existence of absolute rent, shows its reality, its existence, as a purely historical fact, which belongs to a certain stage of development of agriculture and which may disappear at a higher stage. Ricardo explained differential rent from an absolute decrease in productivity in agriculture. Differential rent does not presuppose this, nor does Anderson make this assumption. On the other hand Ricardo denies the existence of absolute rent because he ||564| assumes the organic composition of capital to be the same in industry and agriculture and so denies the purely historical fact of the lower development of the productive power of labour in agriculture as compared with manufacture. Hence lie falls into a twofold historical error: On the one hand, he assumes that the productivity of labour in agriculture is absolutely the same as in industry, thus denying a purely historical difference in their actual stage of development. On the other hand, he assumes an absolute decrease in the productivity of agriculture and regards this as its law of development. He does the one in order to make cost-price on the worst land equal value and he does the other in order to explain the differences between the costprices [of the products] of the better kinds of land and their values. The whole blunder originates in the confusion of cost-price with value. Thus the Ricardian theory is disposed of. The rest was dealt with earlier, in the chapter on Rodbertus. [3. The Inadequacy of the Ricardian Definition of Rent] I have already indicated that Ricardo opens the chapter by stating that it is necessary to examine whether the appropriation of land, and the consequent creation of rent (*David Ricardo, On the

Principles of Political Economy, and Taxation, third edition, London, 1821], p. 53) do not interfere with the determination of value by labour-time. And he says later: Adam Smith cannot be correct in supposing that the original rule which regulated the exchangeable value of commodities, namely, the comparative quantity of labour by which they were produced, can be at all altered by the appropriation of land and the payment of rent (l.c., p. 67). This direct and conscious connection which Ricardos theory of rent has with the determination of value is its theoretical merit. Apart from that this Chapter II On Rent is rather inferior to Wests exposition. It contains much that is queer, petitio principii and unfair dealing with the problem. Actual agricultural rent, which Ricardo justifiably here treats as rent proper, is that which is paid for the permission to invest capital, to produce capitalistically, in the element land. Here land is the element of production. This does not apply, for example, to rent for buildings, waterfalls etc. The powers of nature which are paid for in these cases enter into production as a condition, be it as productive power or as sine qua non, but they are not the element in which this particular branch of production is carried on. Again, in rents for mines, coal-mines etc., the earth is the reservoir, from whose bowels the usevalues are to be torn. In this case payment is made for the land, not because it is the element in which production is to take place, as in agriculture, not because it enters into production as one of the conditions of production, as in the case of the waterfall or the building site, but because it is a reservoir containing the use-values, which are to be got hold of through industry. Ricardos explanation that: Rent is that portion of the produce of the earth, which is paid to the landlord for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the soil (l.c., p. 53) is poor. Firstly, the soil has no indestructible powers. (A note on this is to follow at the end of this chapter.) Secondly, it has no original powers either, since the land is in no way original, but rather the product of an historical and natural process. But let that pass. By original powers of the land we understand here those, which it possesses independently of the action of human industry, although, on the other hand, the powers given to it by human industry, become just as much its original powers as those given to it by the process of nature. Apart from this, it is correct to say that rent is a payment for the use of natural things, irrespective of whether it is for the use of the original powers of the soil or of the power of the waterfall or of land for building or of the treasures to be found in the water or in the bowels of the earth. As distinct from the agricultural rent proper, Adam Smith (says Ricardo) speaks of the rent paid for wood from virgin forests, rent of coal-mines and stone-quarries. The way in which Ricardo disposes of this is rather strange. He begins by saying that the rent of land must not be confused with the interest and profit of capital (l.c., p. 53), that is:

capital *+ employed in ameliorating the quality of the land, and in erecting such buildings as were necessary to secure and preserve the produce (l.c., p. 54). From this he immediately [passes on] to the above-mentioned examples from Adam Smith. With regard to virgin forests: Is it not, however, evident, that the person who paid what he (Adam Smith) calls rent, paid it in consideration of the valuable commodity which was then standing on the land, and that he actuallyrepaid himself with a profit, by the sale of the timber? (l.c., p. 54). Similarly with the stone-quarries and coal-mines. the compensation ||565| *+ for the mine or quarry, is paid for the value of the coal or stone which can be removed from them, and has no connection with the original and indestructible powers of the land. This is a distinction of great importance, in an enquiry concerning rent and profits; for it is found, that the laws which regulate the progress of rent, are widely different from those which regulate the progress of profits, and seldom operate in the same direction (l.c., pp. 54-55). This is very strange logic. One must distinguish rent paid to the owner of the land for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the soil from the interest and profit which is paid to him for the capital he has invested in ameliorating the land, etc. The compensation which is paid to the owner of naturally-grown forests for the right to remove wood, or to the owner of stone-quarries and coalmines for the right to remove stones and coal, is not rent, because it is not a payment for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the soil. Very well. But Ricardo argues as though this compensation were the same as the profit and interest which are paid for capital invested in ameliorations of the land. But this is wrong. Has the owner of a virgin forest invested capital in it so that it may bear wood or has the owner of stone-quarries and coal-mines invested capital in these, so that they may contain stones and coal? Whence, therefore, his compensation? It is by no meansas Ricardo tries to make outprofit or interest of capital. Therefore it is rent and nothing else, even if it is notrent as defined by Ricardo. But this only shows that his definition of rent excludes those forms of it where the compensation is paid for mere natural things, in which no human labour is embodied, and where it is paid to theowner of these natural things only because he is the owner, the owner of land, whether this consists of soil, forest, fish pond, waterfall, building land or anything else. But, says Ricardo, the man who paid for the right to fell trees in the forest, paid in consideration of the valuable commodity which was then standing on the land and [] actually repaid himself with a profit, by the sale of the timber *p. 54+. Stop! When Ricardo here calls the wood, i.e., the trees standing on the land in the virgin forest a valuable commodity, then this means only that it is potentially a use-value. And this use-value is expressed here in the word valuable. But it is not a commodity. Because for this it would, at the same time, have to be exchange-value, in other words, to contain a certain quantity of labour expended upon it. It only becomes a commodity by being separated from the virgin forest, by being felled, removed and transportedby being transformed from wood into timber. Or does it only become a commodity by the fact it is sold? Then arable land too becomes a commodity by the mere act of selling?

Then we would have to say: Rent is the price paid to the owner of natural forces or mere products of nature for the right of using those forces or appropriating (by labour) those products. This is in fact the form in which all rent appears originally. But then the question remains to be solved, how things which have no value can have a price and how this is compatible with the general theory of value. The question: for what purpose does the man pay a compensation for the right to remove timber from the land upon which it stands, has nothing to do with the real question. The question is: from what fund does he pay? Well, says Ricardo, by the sale of the timber. That is, out of the price of the timber. And furthermore, this price was such that, as Ricardo says, the man actually repaid himself with a profit. Now we know where we are. The price of the timber must at any rate equal the sum of money representing the quantity of labour necessary to fell the timber, to remove it, to transport it, to bring it to market. Now is the profit with which the man repays himself, an addition over and above thisvalue, this exchange-value just imparted to the wood through the labour expended upon it? If Ricardo said this then he would fall into the crudest conception, far beneath his own doctrine. No. Given that the man was a capitalist, the profit is part of the labour he employed in the production of the timber, the part for which he did not pay; and the man would have made the same profit, if he had set in motion the same amount of labour, shall we say, in cotton spinning. (If the man is not a capitalist, then the profit is equal to that quantity of his labour which he exerts beyond that which is necessary to cover his wages, and which would have constituted the profit of the capitalist, had a capitalist employed him, but which now constitutes his own profit because he is his own wage-labourer and his own capitalist in one and the same person.) But here we come to the ugly word that this timber man actuallyrepaid himself with a profit. This gives the whole transaction a very ordinary look and corresponds to the crude manner of thinking which this capitalist, who removes timber, may himself have of the source of his profit. First he pays the owner of the virgin forest for the use-value wood, which, however, has no value (value in exchange) and which, so long as it stands upon the land has not even a use-value. He may pay him 5 per ton. And then he sells the same wood to the public (setting aside his other costs) at 6 and so actually pays back to himself the 5 with a profit of 20 per cent. *He+ actually repaid himself with a profit. If the owner of the forest had only demanded compensation of 2 (40 s.), then the timber man would have sold the ton at 2 8s. instead of at *+ 6. ||566| Since he always adds the same rate of profit, the price of timber would be high or low here because the rent is high or low. The latter would enter into the price as a constituent part but would in no way be the result of the price. Whether the rentcompensationis paid to the owner of the land for the use of the power of the land or for the use of the natural products of the land, in no way alters the economic relations, in no way alters the fact that money is paid for a natural thing (power or produce of the earth) upon which no previous human labour has been spent. And thus on the second page of his chapter On Rent Ricardo would have overthrown his whole theory in order to avoid a difficulty. It would appear that Adam Smith was a great deal more far-sighted here. The same case with the stone-quarries and coal-mines. The compensation given for the mine or quarry, is paid for the value of the coal or stone which can be removed from them, and has no connection with the original and indestructible powers of the land[a] (l.c., pp. 54-55).

No! But there is a very significant connection with the original and destructible productions of the soil. The word value is just as ugly here as the phrase repaid himself with a profit was above. Ricardo never uses the word value for utility or usefulness or value in use. Does he therefore mean to say that the compensation is paid to the owner of the quarries and coal-mines for the value the coal and stone have before they are removed from the quarry and the minein their original state? Then he invalidates his entire doctrine of value. Or does value mean here, as it must do, the possible use-value and hence also the prospective exchange-value of coal and stone? Then it means nothing but that their owner is paid rent for the permission to use the original composition of the soil for the production of coal and stones. And it is absolutely incomprehensible why this should not be called rent, in the same way as if the permission were given to use the powers of the land for the production of wheat. Or we end up again with the annulment of the whole theory of rent, as explained in connection with wood. According to the correct theory, there are no difficulties involved here at all. The labour, or capital, employed in the production <not reproduction> of wood, coal or stone (this labour, it is true, does not create these natural products, but separates them from their elementary connection with the earth and so produces them as usable wood, coal or stone) evidently belongs to those spheres of production in which the part of capital laid out in wages is greater than that laid out in constant capital, *where consequently the amount of+ direct labour is greater than that of past labour the result of which serves as a means of production. If, therefore, the commodity is sold at its value here, then this value will be above its cost-price, i.e., the wear and tear of the instruments of labour, the wages, and the average profit. The excess can thus be paid as rent to the owner of forest, quarry or coal-mine. But why these clumsy manoeuvres of Ricardos, such as the wrong use of value etc.? Why this clinging to the explanation of rent as a payment for the use of the original and indestructible powers of the land? Perhaps the answer will emerge later. In any case, he wants to distinguish, to mention specifically, the agricultural rent in the strict sense and at the same time to open the way for differential rent, by saying that payment for this elementary power can only be made in so far as it develops different degrees of power.

[a] In the manuscript: soil.Ed.

Anti-Dhring by Frederick Engels 1877 Part II: Political Economy IV. Theory of Force (Conclusion)
It is a circumstance of great importance that as a matter of fact the domination over nature, generally speaking, (!), only proceeded, (a domination proceeded!) through the domination over man. The cultivation of landed property in tracts of considerable size never took place anywhere without the antecedent subjection of man in some form of slave-labour or corve. The establishment of an economic domination over things has presupposed the political, social and economic domination of man over man. How could a large landed proprietor even be conceived without at once including in this idea also his domination over slaves serfs, or others indirectly unfree? What could the efforts of an individual, at most supplemented by those of his family, have signified or signify in extensively practiced agriculture? The exploitation of the land, or the extension of economic control over it on a scale exceeding the natural capacities of the individual, was only made possible in previous history by the establishment, either before or simultaneously with the introduction of dominion over land, of the enslavement of man which this involves. In the later periods of development this servitude was mitigated ... its present form in the more highly civilised states is wage-labour, to a greater or lesser degree carried on under police rule. Thus wage-labour provides the practical possibility of that form of contemporary wealth which is represented by dominion over wide areas of land and (!) extensive landed property. It goes without saying that all other types of distributive wealth must be explained historically in a similar way, and the indirect dependence of man on man, which is now the essential feature of the conditions which economically are most fully developed, cannot be understood and explained by its own nature, but only as a somewhat transformed heritage of an earlier direct subjugation and expropriation ,D. C. 18-19}. Thus Herr Dhring. Thesis: The domination of nature (by man) presupposes the domination of man (by man). Proof: The cultivation of landed property in tracts of considerable size never took place anywhere except by the use of bondmen. Proof of the proof: How can there be large landowners without bondmen, as the large landowner, even with his family, could work only a tiny part of his property without the help of bondmen? Therefore, in order to prove that man first had to subjugate man before he could bring nature under his control, Herr Dhring transforms "nature" without more ado into "landed property in tracts of considerable size", and then this landed propertyownership unspecifiedis immediately further transformed into the property of a large landed proprietor, who naturally cannot work his land without bondmen.

In the first place "domination over nature" and the "cultivation of landed property" are by no means the same thing. In industry, domination over nature is exercised on quite another and much greater scale than in agriculture, which is still subject to weather conditions instead of controlling them. Secondly, if we confine ourselves to the cultivation of landed property consisting of tracts of considerable size, the question arises: whose landed property is it? And then we find in the early history of all civilised peoples, not the large landed proprietors whom Herr Dhring interpolates here with his customary sleight of hand, which he calls "natural dialectics", [82] but tribal and village communities with common ownership of the land. From India to Ireland the cultivation of landed property in tracts of considerable size was originally carried on by such tribal and village communities; sometimes the arable land was tilled jointly for account of the community, and sometimes in separate parcels of land temporarily allotted to families by the community, while woodland and pastureland continued to be used in common. It is once again characteristic of the most exhaustive specialised studies made by Herr Dhring in the domain of politics and law ,D. Ph. 537- that he knows nothing of all this; that all his works breathe total ignorance of Maurers epoch-making writings on the primitive constitution of the German mark, [83] the basis of all German law, and of the ever-increasing mass of literature, chiefly stimulated by Maurer, which is devoted to proving the primitive common ownership of the land among all civilised peoples of Europe and Asia, and to showing the various forms of its existence and dissolution. Just as in the domain of French and English law Herr Dhring himself acquired all his ignorance, great as it was, so it is with his even much greater ignorance in the domain of German law. In this domain the man who flies into such a violent rage over the limited horizon of university professors is himself today at the very most, still where the professors were twenty years ago. It is a pure free creation and imagination ,43- on Herr Dhring's part when he asserts that landed proprietors and bondmen were required for the cultivation of landed property in tracts of considerable size. In the whole of the Orient, where the village community or the state owns the land, the very term landlord is not to be found in the various languages, a point on which Herr Dhring can consult the English jurists, whose efforts in India to solve the question: who is the owner of the land? were as vain as those of the late Prince Heinrich LXXII of Reuss-Greiz-Schleiz-Lobenstein-Eberswalde [84] in his attempts to solve the question of who was the night-watchman. It was the Turks who first introduced a sort of feudal ownership of land in the countries conquered by them in the Orient. Greece made its entry into history, as far back as the heroic epoch, with a system of social estates which itself was evidently the product of a long but unknown prehistory; even there, however, the land was mainly cultivated by independent peasants; the larger estates of the nobles and tribal chiefs were the exception; moreover they disappeared soon after. Italy was brought under cultivation chiefly by peasants; when, in the final period of the Roman Republic, the great complexes of estates, the latifundia, displaced the small peasants and replaced them with slaves, they also replaced tillage with stockraising, and, as Pliny already realised, brought Italy to ruin (latifundia Italiam perdidere). During the Middle Ages, peasant farming was predominant throughout Europe (especially in bringing virgin soil into cultivation); and in relation to the question we are now considering it is of no importance whether these peasants had to pay dues, and if so what dues, to any feudal lords. The colonists from Friesland, Lower Saxony, Flanders and the Lower Rhine, who brought under cultivation the land east of the Elbe which

had been wrested. from the Slavs, did this as free peasants under very favourable quit-rent tenures, and not at all under some form of corve ,D. C. 18-. In North America, by far the largest portion of the land was opened for cultivation by the labour of free farmers, while the big landlords of the South, with their slaves and their rapacious tilling of the land, exhausted the soil until it could grow only firs, so that the cultivation of cotton was forced further and further west. In Australia and New Zealand, all attempts of the British government to establish artificially a landed aristocracy came to nothing. In short, if we except the tropical and subtropical colonies, where the climate makes agricultural labour impossible for Europeans, the big landlord who subjugates nature by means of his slaves or serfs and brings the land under cultivation proves to be a pure figment of the imagination. The very reverse is the case. Where he makes his appearance in antiquity, as in Italy, he does not bring wasteland into cultivation, but transforms arable land brought under cultivation by peasants into stock pastures, depopulating and ruining whole countries. Only in a more recent period, when the increasing density of population had raised the value of land, and particularly since the development of agricultural science had made even poorer land more cultivableit is only from this period that large landowners began to participate on an extensive scale in bringing wasteland and grass-land under cultivationand this mainly through the robbery of common land from the peasants, both in England and in Germany. But there was another side even to this. For every acre of common land which the large landowners brought into cultivation in England, they transformed at least three acres of arable land in Scotland into sheep-runs and eventually even into mere big-game hunting-grounds. We are concerned here only with Herr Dhring's assertion that the bringing into cultivation of tracts of land of considerable size and therefore of practically the whole area now cultivated, never and nowhere took place except through the agency of big landlords and their bondmenan assertion which, as we have seen, presupposes a really unprecedented ignorance of history. It is not necessary, therefore, for us to examine here either to what extent, at different periods, areas which were already made entirely or mainly cultivable were cultivated by slaves (as in the hey-day of Greece) or serfs (as in the manors of the Middle Ages); or what was the social function of the large landowners at various periods. And after Herr Dhring has shown us this masterpiece of the imaginationin which we do not know whether the conjuring trick of deduction or the falsification of history is more to be admiredhe exclaims triumphantly: It goes without saying that all other types of distributive wealth must be explained historically in similar manner! ,19.Which of course saves him the trouble of wasting even a single word more on the origin, for example, of capital. If, with his domination of man by man as a prior condition for the domination of nature by man, Herr Dhring only wanted to state in a general way that the whole of our present economic order, the level of development now attained by agriculture and industry, is the result of a social history which evolved in class antagonisms, in relationships of domination and subjection, he is saying something which long

ago, ever since the Communist Manifesto, became a commonplace. But the question at issue is how we are to explain the origin of classes and relations based on domination, and if Herr Dhring's only answer is the one word force, we are left exactly where we were at the start. The mere fact that the ruled and exploited have at all times been far more numerous than the rulers and the exploiters, and that therefore it is in the hands of the former that the real force has reposed, is enough to demonstrate the absurdity of the whole force theory. The relationships based on domination and subjection have therefore still to be explained. They arose in two ways. As men originally made their exit from the animal worldin the narrower sense of the termso they made their entry into history: still half animal, brutal, still helpless in face of the forces of nature, still ignorant of their own strength; and consequently as poor as the animals and hardly more productive than they. There prevailed a certain equality in the conditions of existence, and for the heads of families also a kind of equality of social positionat least an absence of social classes which continued among the primitive agricultural communities of the civilised peoples of a later period. In each such community there were from the beginning certain common interests the safeguarding of which had to be handed over to individuals, true, under the control of the community as a whole: adjudication of disputes; repression of abuse of authority by individuals; control of water supplies, especially in hot countries; and finally when conditions were still absolutely primitive, religious functions. Such offices are found in aboriginal communities of every period in the oldest German marks and even today in India. They are naturally endowed with a certain measure of authority and are the beginnings of state power. The productive forces gradually increase; the increasing density of the population creates at one point common interests, at another conflicting interests, between the separate communities, whose grouping into larger units brings about in turn a new division of labour, the setting up of organs to safeguard common interests and combat conflicting interests. These organs which, if only because they represent the common interests of the whole group, hold a special position in relation to each individual communityin certain circumstances even one of oppositionsoon make themselves still more independent, partly through heredity of functions, which comes about almost as a matter of course in a world where everything occurs spontaneously, and partly because they become increasingly indispensable owing to the growing number of conflicts with other groups. It is not necessary for us to examine here how this independence of social functions in relation to society increased with time until it developed into domination over society; how he who was originally the servant, where conditions were favourable, changed gradually into the lord; how this lord, depending on the conditions, emerged as an Oriental despot or satrap, the dynast of a Greek tribe, chieftain of a Celtic clan, and so on; to what extent he subsequently had recourse to force in the course of this transformation; and how finally the individual rulers united into a ruling class. Here we are only concerned with establishing the fact that the exercise of a social function was everywhere the basis of political supremacy; and further that political supremacy has existed for any length of time only when it discharged its social functions. However great the number of despotisms which rose and fell in Persia and India, each was fully aware that above all it was the entrepreneur responsible for the collective maintenance of irrigation throughout the river valleys, without which no agriculture was possible there. It was reserved for the enlightened English to

lose sight of this in India; they let the irrigation canals and sluices fall into decay, and are now at last discovering, through the regularly recurring famines, that they have neglected the one activity which might have made their rule in India at least as legitimate as that of their predecessors. But alongside this process of formation of classes another was also taking place. The spontaneously evolved division of labour within the family cultivating the soil made possible, at a certain level of wellbeing, the incorporation of one or more strangers as additional labour forces. This was especially the case in countries where the old common ownership of the land had already disintegrated or at least the former joint cultivation had given place to the separate cultivation of parcels of land by the respective families. Production had developed so far that the labour-power of a man could now produce more than was necessary for its mere maintenance; the means of maintaining additional labour forces existed; likewise the means of employing them; labour-power acquired a value. But the community itself and the association to which it belonged yielded no available, superfluous labour forces. On the other hand, such forces were provided by war, and war was as old as the simultaneous existence alongside each other of several groups of communities. Up to that time one had not known what to do with prisoners of war, and had therefore simply killed them; at an even earlier period, eaten them. But at the stage of &ldquo;economic situation&rdquo; which had now been attained, the prisoners acquired value; one therefore let them live and made use of their labour. Thus force, instead of controlling the economic situation, was on the contrary pressed into the service of the economic situation. Slavery had been invented. It soon became the dominant form of production among all peoples who were developing beyond the old community, but in the end was also one of the chief causes of their decay. It was slavery that first made possible the division of labour between agriculture and industry on a larger scale, and thereby also Hellenism, the flowering of the ancient world. Without slavery, no Greek state, no Greek art and science, without slavery, no Roman Empire. But without the basis laid by Hellenism and the Roman Empire, also no modern Europe. We should never forget that our whole economic, political and intellectual development presupposes a state of things in which slavery was as necessary as it was universally recognised. In this sense we are entitled to say: Without the slavery of antiquity no modern socialism. It is very easy to inveigh against slavery and similar things in general terms, and to give vent to high moral indignation at such infamies. Unfortunately all that this conveys is only what everyone knows, namely, that these institutions of antiquity are no longer in accord with our present conditions and our sentiments, which these conditions determine. But it does not tell us one word as to how these institutions arose, why they existed, and what role they played in history. And when we examine these questions, we are compelled to sayhowever contradictory and heretical it may soundthat the introduction of slavery under the conditions prevailing at that time was a great step forward. For it is a fact that man sprang from the beasts, and had consequently to use barbaric and almost bestial means to extricate himself from barbarism. Where the ancient communities have continued to exist, they have for thousands of years formed the basis of the cruellest form of state, Oriental despotism, from India to Russia. It was only where these communities dissolved that the peoples made progress of themselves, and their next economic advance consisted in the increase and development of production by means of slave labour. It is clear that so long as human labour was still so little productive that it provided but a

small surplus over and above the necessary means of subsistence, any increase of the productive forces, extension of trade, development of the state and of law, or foundation of art and science, was possible only by means of a greater division of labour. And the necessary basis for this was the great division of labour between the masses discharging simple manual labour and the few privileged persons directing labour, conducting trade and public affairs, and, at a later stage, occupying themselves with art and science. The simplest and most natural form of this division of labour was in fact slavery. In the historical conditions of the ancient world, and particularly of Greece, the advance to a society based on class antagonisms could be accomplished only in the form of slavery. This was an advance even for the slaves; the prisoners of war, from whom the mass of the slaves was recruited, now at least saved their lives, instead of being killed as they had been before, or even roasted, as at a still earlier period. We may add at this point that all historical antagonisms between exploiting and exploited, ruling and oppressed classes to this very day find their explanation in this same relatively undeveloped human labour. So long as the really working population were so much occupied with their necessary labour that they had no time left for looking after the common affairs of societythe direction of labour, affairs of state, legal matters, art, science, etc.so long was it necessary that there should constantly exist a special class, freed from actual labour, to manage these affairs; and this class never failed, for its own advantage, to impose a greater and greater burden of labour on the working masses. Only the immense increase of the productive forces attained by modern industry has made it possible to distribute labour among all members of society without exception, and thereby to limit the labour-time of each individual member to such an extent that all have enough free time left to take part in the generalboth theoretical and practicalaffairs of society. It is only now, therefore, that every ruling and exploiting class has become superfluous and indeed a hindrance to social development, and it is only now, too, that it will be inexorably abolished, however much it may be in possession of direct force. When, therefore, Herr Dhring turns up his nose at Hellenism because it was founded on slavery, he might with equal justice reproach the Greeks with having had no steam-engines or electric telegraphs. And when he asserts that our modern wage bondage can only be explained as a somewhat transformed and mitigated heritage of slavery, and not by its own nature (that is, by the economic laws of modern society), this either means only that both wage-labour and slavery are forms of bondage and class domination, which every child knows to be so, or is false. For with equal justice we might say that wagelabour could only be explained as a mitigated form of cannibalism, which, it is now established, was the universal primitive form of utilisation of defeated enemies. The role played in history by force as contrasted with economic development is therefore clear. In the first place, all political power is organically based on an economic, social function, and increases in proportion as the members of society, through the dissolution of the primitive community, become transformed into private producers, and thus become more and more divorced from the administrators of the common functions of society. Secondly, after the political force has made itself independent in relation to society, and has transformed itself from its servant into its master, it can work in two different directions. Either it works in the sense and in the direction of the natural economic development, in which case no conflict arises between them, the economic development being accelerated. Or it works against economic development, in which case, as a rule, with but few

exceptions, force succumbs to it. These few exceptions are isolated cases of conquest, in which the more barbarian conquerors exterminated or drove out the population of a country and laid waste or allowed to go to ruin productive forces which they did not know how to use. This was what the Christians in Moorish Spain did with the major part of the irrigation works on which the highly developed agriculture and horticulture of the Moors depended. Every conquest by a more barbarian people disturbs of course the economic development and destroys numerous productive forces. But in the immense majority of cases where the conquest is permanent, the more barbarian conqueror has to adapt himself to the higher economic situation ,D. K. G. 231- as it emerges from the conquest; he is assimilated by the vanquished and in most cases he has even to adopt their language. But where apart from cases of conquestthe internal state power of a country becomes antagonistic to its economic development as at a certain stage occurred with almost every political power in the past, the contest always ended with the downfall of the political power. Inexorably and without exception the economic development has forced its way throughwe have already mentioned the latest and most striking example of this: the great French Revolution. If, in accordance with Herr Dhring's theory, the economic situation and with it the economic structure of a given country were dependent simply on political force, it is absolutely impossible to understand why Frederick William IV after 1848 could not succeed, in spite of his magnificent army, [85] ingrafting the mediaeval guilds and other romantic oddities on to the railways, the steam-engines and the large-scale industry which was just then developing in his country; or why the tsar of Russia, who is possessed of even much more forcible means, is not only unable to pay his debts, but cannot even maintain his force without continually borrowing from the economic situation of Western Europe. To Herr Dhring force is the absolute evil; the first act of force is to him the original sin; his whole exposition is a jeremiad on the contamination of all subsequent history consummated by this original sin; a jeremiad on the shameful perversion of all natural and social laws by this diabolical power, force. That force, however, plays yet another role in history, a revolutionary role; that, in the words of Marx, it is the midwife of every old society pregnant with a new one, that it is the instrument with the aid of which social movement forces its way through and shatters the dead, fossilised political formsof this there is not a word in Herr Dhring. It is only with sighs and groans that he admits the possibility that force will perhaps be necessary for the overthrow of an economic system of exploitation unfortunately, because all use of force demoralises the person who uses it. And this in spite of the immense moral and spiritual impetus which has been given by every victorious revolution! And this in Germany, where a violent collisionwhich may, after all, be forced on the peoplewould at least have the advantage of wiping out the servility which has penetrated the nation's mentality following the humiliation of the Thirty Years' War. And this parson's mode of thought dull, insipid and impotent presumes to impose itself on the most revolutionary party that history has known!

Articles by Engels in the Labour Standard 1881

The French Commercial Treaty

Source: Reproduced from the newspaper; Written: mid-June, 1881; Published: No. 7, June 18, 1881, as a leading article; Transcribed: director@marx.org, Labor Day 1996.

On Thursday, June 9, in the House of Commons, Mr. Monk (Gloucester) proposed a resolution to the effect that "no commercial treaty with France will be satisfactory which does not tend to the development of the commercial relations of the two countries by a further reduction of duties". A debate of some length ensued. [1] Sir C. Dilke, on behalf of the Government, offered the mild resistance required by diplomatic etiquette. Mr. A. J. Balfour (Tamworth) [2] would compel foreign nations, by retaliatory duties, to adopt lower tariffs. Mr. Slagg (Manchester) would leave the French to find out the value of our trade to them and of theirs to us, even without any treaty. Mr. Illingworth (Bradford) despaired of reaching free-trade through commercial treaties. Mr. Mac Iver (Birkenhead) declared the present system of free-trade to be only an imposture, inasmuch as it was made up of free imports and restricted exports. The resolution was carried by 77 to 49, a defeat which will hurt neither Mr. Gladstone's feelings nor his position. This debate is a fair specimen of a long series of ever-recurring complaints about the stubbornness with which the stupid foreigner, and even the quite as stupid colonial subject, refuse to recognise the universal blessings of free-trade and its capability of remedying all economic evils. Never has a prophecy broken down so completely as that of the Manchester School [3] -- free-trade, once established in England, would shower such blessings over the country that all other nations must follow the example and throw their ports open to English manufactures. The coaxing voice of the free-trade apostles remained the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Not only did the Continent and America, on the whole, increase their protective duties [4]; even the British Colonies, as soon as they had become endowed with self-government, [5] followed suit; and no sooner had India been placed under the Crown

than a 5 per cent duty on cotton goods was introduced even there, [6] acting as an incentive to native manufactures. Why this should be so is an utter mystery to the Manchester; School. Yet it is plain enough. About the middle of last century England was the principal seat of the cotton manufacture, and therefore the natural place where, with a rapidly rising demand for cotton goods, the machinery was invented which, with the help of the steam engine, revolutionised first the cotton trade, and successively the other textile manufactures. The large and easily accessible coalfields of Great Britain, thanks to steam, became now the basis of the country's prosperity. The extensive deposits of iron ore in close proximity to the coal facilitated the development of the iron trade, which had received a new stimulus by the demand for engines and machinery. Then, in the midst of this revolution of the whole manufacturing system, came the anti-Jacobin and Napoleonic wars [7] which for some twenty-five years drove the ships of almost ail competing nations from the sea, and thus gave to English manufactured goods the practical monopoly of all Transatlantic and some European markets. When in 1815 peace was restored, England stood there with her steam manufactures ready to supply the world, while steam engines were as yet scarcely known in other countries. In manufacturing industry, England was an immense distance in advance of them. But the restoration of peace soon induced other nations to follow in the track of England. Sheltered by the Chinese Wall of her prohibitive tariff, [8] France introduced production by steam. So also did Germany, although her tariff was at that time far more liberal [9] than any other, that of England not excepted. So did other countries. At the same time the British landed aristocracy, to raise their rents, introduced the Corn Laws, [10] thereby raising the price of bread and with it the money rate of wages. Nevertheless the progress of English manufactures went on at a stupendous rate. By 1830 she had laid herself out to become "the workshop of the world". To make her the workshop of the world in reality was the task undertaken by the Anti-Corn Law League. [11] There was no secret made, in those times, of what was aimed at by the repeal of the Corn Laws. To reduce the price of bread, and thereby the money rate of wages, would enable British manufacturers to defy all and every competition with which wicked or ignorant foreigners threatened them. What was more natural than that England, with her great advance in machinery, with her immense merchant navy, her coal and iron, should supply all the world with manufactured articles, and that in return the outer world should supply her with agricultural produce, corn, wine, flax, cotton, coffee, tea, etc.? It was a decree of Providence that it should be so, it was sheer rebellion against God's ordinance to set your face against it. At most France might be allowed to supply England and the rest of the world with such articles of taste and fashion as could not be made by machinery, and were altogether beneath the notice of an enlightened millowner. Then, and then alone, would there be peace on earth and goodwill towards men; then all nations would be bound together by the endearing ties of commerce and mutual profit; then the reign of peace and plenty would be for ever established, and to the working class, to their "hands", they said: "There's a good time coming, boys -- wait a little longer." Of course the "hands" are waiting still.

But while the "hands" waited the wicked and ignorant foreigners did not. They did not see the beauty of a system by which the momentary industrial advantages possessed by England should be turned into means to secure to her the monopoly of manufactures all the world over and for ever, and to reduce all other nations to mere agricultural dependencies of England -- in other words, to the very enviable condition of Ireland. They knew that no nation can keep up with others in civilisation if deprived of manufactures, and thereby brought down to be a mere agglomeration of clodhoppers. And therefore, subordinating private commercial profit to national exigency, they protected their nascent manufactures by high tariffs, which seemed to them the only means to protect themselves from being brought down to the economical condition enjoyed by Ireland. We do not mean to say that this was the right thing to do in every case. On the contrary, France would reap immense advantages from a considerable approach towards Free Trade. German manufactures, such as they are, have become what they are under Free Trade, and Bismarck's new Protection tariff [12] will do harm to nobody but the German manufacturers them" selves. But there is one country where a short period of Protection is not only justifiable but a matter of absolute necessity -- America. America is at that point of her development where the introduction of manufactures has become a national necessity, This is best proved by the fact that in the invention of labour-saving machinery it is no longer England which leads, but America. American inventions every day supersede English patents and English machinery. American machines are brought over to England; and this in almost all branches of manufactures Then America possesses a population the most energetic in the world, coalfields against which those of England appear almost as a vanishing quantity, iron and all other metals in plenty. And is it to be supposed that such a country will expose its young and rising manufactures to a long, protracted, competitive struggle with the old-established industry of England, when, by a short term of some twenty years of protection, she can place them at once on a level with any competitor? But, says the Manchester School, America is but robbing herself by her protective system. So is a man robbing himself who pays extra for the express train instead of taking the old Parliamentary train -- fifty miles an hour instead of twelve. There is no mistake about it, the present generation will see American cotton goods compete with English ones in India and China, and gradually gain ground in those two leading markets; American machinery and hardware compete with the English makes in all parts of the world, England included; and the same implacable necessity which removed Flemish manufactures to Holland, Dutch ones to England, will ere long remove the centre of the world's industry from this country to the United States. And in the restricted field which will then remain to England she will find formidable competitors in several Continental nations. The fact cannot be longer shirked that England's industrial monopoly is fast on the wane. If the "enlightened" middle class think it their interest to hush it up, let the working class boldly look it in the face, for it interests them more than even their "betters". These may for a long time yet remain the bankers and money-lenders of the world, as the Venetians and the Dutch in their decay have done before them. But what is to become of the "hands" when England's immense export trade begins to shrink down every year instead of expanding? If the removal of the iron shipbuilding trade from the

Thames to the Clyde was sufficient to reduce the whole East-end of London to chronic pauperism, what will the virtual removal of all the staple trades of England across the Atlantic do for England? It will do one great thing: it will break the last link which still binds the English working class to the English middle class. This link was their common working of a national monopoly. That monopoly once destroyed, the British working class will be compelled to take in hand its own interests, its own salvation, and to make an end of the wages system. Let us hope it will not wait until then. Notes From the MECW 1 The main question discussed in the House of Commons during the debate on concluding a commercial treaty with France was the new common customs tariff adopted by the French government on May 8, 1881, which provided for some restrictions on imports in the interest of French industry. Despite the fact that the talks about the new treaty were repeatedly resumed throughout the year, the parties concerned failed to find an acceptable solution. 2 A. J. Balfour was elected to Parliament from Hertford, in Southeast England. 3 The Manchester School -- a trend in economic thinking which reflected the interests of the industrial bourgeoisie. Its supporters, known as Free Traders, advocated removal of protective tariffs and nonintervention by the government in economic life. The centre of the Free Traders' agitation was Manchester, where the movement was headed by two textile manufacturers, Richard Cobden and John Bright. In the 1840s and 1850s, the Free Traders were a separate political group, which later formed the Left wing of the Liberal Party. 4 This refers to the protective tariff tabled in Congress by the Republican Justin Smith Morrill and passed by the Senate on March 2, 1861. It raised customs duties considerably. Later, during the American Civil War and in 1867 and 1869, the tariff was repeatedly revised, and by 1869 it had raised the average size of import duties to 47 per cent. In 1870 and 1872, these duties were lowered to 10 per cent, but this was cancelled in 1875. 5 The first British colony which was granted the status of a dominion (in 1867) was Canada. 6 After the abolition of the East India Company in August 1858 India was placed under direct administration of the British Crown. Seeking to protect the national textile industry, the authorities introduced a 5-per cent duq on the English cotton goods imported by India. However, as early as 1879 the Lancashire manufacturers managed to get these duties cancelled, and in 1882 the duties on other goods were also abolished. The British East India Company, was founded in 1600. It enjoyed a monopoly of trade with the East Indies and played a decisive part in the establishment of the British colonial empire. 7 The reference is to the coalition wars of European states against the French Republic (1792-1802) and against Napoleon (1805-15).

8 In 1814 and 1822 the French authorities introduced high import tariffs on iron, in 1819, on grain, cattle and wool, and in 1826, doubled the tariffs on pig iron and steel. 9 The economic development of Germany was most adversely affected by her political fragmentation, the absence of universal commercial laws, internal customs barriers, and the multiplicity of currencies and of the weight and measure systems. On May 26, 1818 Prussia alone passed a law on the abolition of internal duties and the introduction of a universal customs tariff. 10 The Corn Laws, the first of which were passed as early as the 15th century, imposed high import duties on agricultural products in order to maintain high prices for these products on the domestic market. The Corn Laws served the interests of the big landowners. 11 The Anti-Corn Law League was founded in 1838 by the Manchester manufacturers and Free Trade leaders Richard Cobden and John Bright. By demanding complete freedom of trade, the League fought for the abolition of the Corn Laws. In this way, it sought to weaken the economic and political position of the landed aristocracy and lower the cost of living, thus making possible a lowering of the workers' wages. After the repeal of the Corn Laws in 1846), the League ceased to exist. 12 The campaign for the introduction of protectionist laws unfolded in Germany at the outset of the 1873 crisis. On February 15 1876, a number of protectionist unions formed a single organization, Centralverband Deutscher Industrieller zur Befrderung und Wahrung nationaler Arbeit. In 1876, during the agrarian crisis, big landowners, Prussian Junkers above all, joined the campaign. In October 1877, the industrial and agrarian advocates of the reform concluded an agreement. In March 1878, a non-partisan Freie wirtschaftliche Vereinigung was formed, which 204 deputies joined at the very first session of the Reichstag in September-October 1878. In December of that year, Bismarck submitted his preliminary draft of the customs reform to a specially appointed commission. On July 12 1879, the final draft was approved by the Reichstag, and came into force on July 15. The new customs tariff provided for a substantial increase in import taxes on iron, machinery and textiles, as well as on grain, cattle, lard, flax, timber, etc.

Condition of the Working Class in England by Frederick Engels (1845) Preface to the Second German Edition (1892)

Source: MECW Volume 27, p. 307; Written: London, July 21, 1892; First published: in F. Engels, Die Lage der arbeitenden Klasse in England, second edition, Stuttgart, 1892; Transcribed: Andy Blunden.
The book herewith again made available to the German public first appeared in the summer of 1845. Both in its strengths and in its weaknesses it bears the stamp of the authors youth. At the time, I was twenty-four; today, I am thrice as old, and as I re-read this early work I find I need not be ashamed of it on any count. So I have no intention of somehow obliterating this stamp of youthfulness. I am presenting my work to the reader again, unchanged. I have only worded more precisely a few not entirely clear passages and added, here and there, a brief footnote, marked with the present date (1892). As for the fate of this book, I will only mention that an English translation of it (by Mrs. Florence KelleyWischnewetzky) came out in New York in 1887 and was also published by Swan Sonnenschein & Co. in London in 1892. The preface to the American edition underlies that to the English one, and the latter in its turn underlies the present German preface. Modern large-scale industry makes the economic conditions in all the countries affected uniform to such an enormous extent that I hardly need tell the German reader anything different from what I tell the American or English. The state of things described in this book belongs today in many respects, to the past, as far as England is concerned. Though not expressly stated in our recognised treatises, it is still a law of modern political economy that the larger the scale on which capitalistic production is carried on, the less can it support the petty devices of swindling and pilfering which characterise its early stages. The pettifogging business tricks of the Polish Jew, the representative in Europe of commerce in its lowest stage, those tricks that serve him so well in his own country, and are generally practised there, fail him once he comes to Hamburg or Berlin; and, again, the commission agent who hails from Berlin or Hamburg, Jew or Christian, after frequenting the Manchester Exchange, finds out that in order to buy cotton yarn or cloth

cheap, he, too, had better drop those slightly more refined but still miserable wiles and subterfuges which are considered the acme of cleverness in his native country. Of course, with the progress of largescale industry a great deal has supposedly changed in Germany too, and a bad odour now attaches, particularly since the industrial Jena of Philadelphia, 283 even to the time-honoured German principle: People will be nothing but pleased if we first send them good samples and then bad goods. The fact is, those tricks do not pay any longer in a large market, where time is money, and where a certain standard of commercial morality is unavoidably developed not because of any considerations of virtue, but purely as a means of saving time and trouble. And exactly the same has taken place in England with the relation between the manufacturer and his hands. The revival of trade, after the crisis of 1847, was the dawn of a new industrial epoch. The repeal of the Corn Laws 184 and the financial reforms subsequent thereon gave to English industry and commerce all the elbow-room they had asked for. The discovery of the Californian and Australian goldfields followed in rapid succession. The colonial markets developed at an increasing rate their capacity for absorbing English manufactured goods. In India millions of handweavers were finally crushed out by the Lancashire power-loom. China was more and more being opened up. But most important of all, America was developing at a rate unprecedented even for that country of tremendous progress; and America, it will be recalled, was then merely a colonial market, indeed the largest of all, i.e., a country supplying raw materials and importing industrial products, notably from England. And, finally, the new means of communication introduced at the close of the preceding period-railways and ocean steamerswere now worked out on an international scale; they realised actually what had hitherto existed only potentially, a world-market. This world-market, at the time, was still composed of a number of chiefly or entirely agricultural countries grouped around one manufacturing centre England which consumed the greater part of their surplus raw produce, and supplied them in return with the greater part of their requirements in manufactured articles. No wonder, therefore, that Englands industrial progress was colossal and unparallelled, and such that the status of 1844 now appears to us as comparatively insignificant, almost primitive. And in proportion as this increase took place, in the same proportion did manufacturing industry become apparently moralised. The competition of manufacturer against manufacturer by means of petty thefts upon the workpeople did no longer pay. Trade had outgrown such low means of making money; the manufacturing millionaire had to know better than waste his time on petty tricks of this kind. Such practices were good enough, at best, for small fry in need of money, who had to snap up every penny in order not to succumb to competition. Thus the truck system was suppressed, the TenHours Bill was enacted, and a number of other secondary reforms introduced-much against the spirit of Free Trade and unbridled competition, but quite as much in favour of the giant-capitalist in his competition with his less favoured brother. Moreover, the larger the concern, and with it the number of workers, the greater the loss and inconvenience caused by every conflict with the workers and thus a new spirit came over the manufacturers, especially the largest ones, which taught them to avoid unnecessary squabbles, to

acquiesce in the existence and power of trades unions, and finally even to discover in strikes-at opportune times a powerful means to serve their own ends. The largest manufacturers, formerly the leaders of the war against the working class, were now the foremost to preach peace and harmony. And for a very good reason. All these concessions to justice and philanthropy were nothing else but means to accelerate the concentration of capital in the hands of the few and crushing the smaller competitors, who could not survive without extra receipts of this sort. To these few, the petty accessory extortions of earlier years had not only lost all significance but had turned, as it were, into hindrances to large-scale business. Thus the development of production on the basis of the capitalistic system has of itself sufficed at least in the leading industries, for in the more unimportant branches this is far from being the case to do away with all those minor grievances which aggravated the workmans fate during its earlier years. And thus it renders more and more evident the great central fact that the cause of the miserable condition of the working class is to be sought, not in these minor grievances, but in the capitalistic system itself.The worker sells to the capitalist his labour-force for a certain daily sum. After a few hours work he has reproduced the value of that sum; but the substance of his contract is, that he has to work another series of hours to complete his working-day; and the value he produces during these additional hours of surplus labour is surplus value, which costs the capitalist nothing, but yet goes into his pocket. That is the basis of the system which tends more and more to split up civilised society into a few Rothschilds and Vanderbilts, the owners of all the means of production and subsistence, on the one hand, and an immense number of wage-workers, the owners of nothing but their labour-force, on the other. And that this result is caused, not by this or that secondary grievance, but by the system itself this fact has been brought out in bold relief by the development of capitalism in England. Again, the repeated visitations of cholera, typhus, smallpox, and other epidemics have shown the British bourgeois the urgent necessity of sanitation in his towns and cities, if he wishes to save himself and family from falling victims to such diseases. Accordingly, the most crying abuses described in this book have either disappeared or have been made less conspicuous. Drainage has been introduced or improved, wide avenues have been opened out athwart many of the worst slums. Little Ireland had disappeared, and the seven dials 286 are next on the list for sweeping away. But what of that? Whole districts which in 1844 I could describe as almost idyllic have now, with the growth of the towns, fallen into the same state of dilapidation, discomfort, and misery. Only the pigs and the heaps of refuse are no longei. tolerated. The bourgeoisie have made further progress in the art of hiding the distress of the working class. But that, in regard to their dwellings, no substantial improvement has taken place is amply proved by the Report of the Royal Commission On the Housing of the Poor, 1885. And this is the case, tool in other. respects. Police regulations have been plentiful as blackberries; but they can only hedge in the distress of the workers, they cannot remove it. But while England has thus outgrown the juvenile state of capitalist exploitation described by me, other countries have only just attained it. France, Germany, and especially America, are the formidable competitors who, at this moment as foreseen by me [See Report of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Working Classes. England and Wales, 1885.-Ed.] In 1844 - are more and more breaking up Englands industrial monopoly. Their manufactures are young as compared with those of England, but

increasing at a far more rapid rate than the latter; and they have at this moment arrived at about the same phase of development as English manufacture in 1844. With regard to America, the parallel is indeed most striking. True, the external surroundings in which the working class is placed in America are very different, but the same economical laws are at work, and the results, if not identical in every respect, must still be of the same order. Hence we find in America the same struggles for a shorter working-day, for a legal limitation of the working-time, especially of women and children in factories; we find the truck system in full blossom, and the cottage system, in rural districts, made use of by the BOSSES, the capitalists and their agents, as a means of domination over the workers. When I received, in 1886, the American papers with accounts of the great strike of 12,000 Pennsylvanian coal-miners in the Connellsville district, I seemed but to read my own description of the North of England colliers' strike of 1844. The same cheating of the workpeople by false measure; the same truck system; the same attempt to break the miners resistance by the capitalists last, but crushing, resource the eviction of the men out of their dwellings, the cottages owned by the companies. Neither here nor in the English editions did I try to update the book, i.e. to list one by one the changes that have taken place since 1844. I did not do it for two reasons. Firstly, I would have had to double the volume of the book. And secondly, Volume One of Marxs Capital gives a detailed description of the condition of the British working class for about 1865, i.e. the time when Britains industrial prosperity had reached its peak. I would therefore have had to repeat what Marx says. It will be hardly necessary to point out that the general theoretical standpoint of this book philosophical, economical, political does not exactly coincide with my standpoint of to-day. Modern international socialism, since fully developed as a science, chiefly and almost exclusively through the efforts of Marx, did not as yet exist in 1844. My book represents one of the phases of its embryonic development; and as the human embryo, in its early stages, still reproduces the gill-arches of our fishancestors, so this book exhibits everywhere the traces of the descent of modern [See present edition, Vol. 4, pp. 540-47.-Ed.] socialism from one of its ancestors, German classical philosophy. Thus great stress is laid on the dictum that communism is not a mere party doctrine of the working class, but a theory compassing the emancipation of society at large, including the capitalist class, from its present narrow conditions. This is true enough in the abstract, but absolutely useless, and sometimes worse, in practice. So long as the wealthy classes not only do not feel the want of any emancipation, but strenuously oppose the self-emancipation of the working class, so long the social revolution will have to be prepared and fought out by the working class alone. The French bourgeois of 1789, too, declared the emancipation of the bourgeoisie to be the emancipation of the whole human race; but the nobility and clergy would not see it; the proposition though for the time being, with respect to feudalism, an abstract historical truth soon became a mere sentimentalism, and disappeared from view altogether in the fire of the revolutionary struggle. And to-day, the very people who, from the impartiality of their superior standpoint, preach to the workers a socialism soaring high above their class interests and class struggles-these people are either neophytes, who have still to learn a great deal, or they are the worst enemies of the workers-wolves in sheeps clothing. The recurring period of the great industrial crisis is stated in the text as five years. This was the period apparently indicated by the course of events from 1825 to 1842. But the industrial history from 1842 to

1868 has shown that the real period is one of ten years; that the intermediate revulsions were secondary, and had been increasingly disappearing from 1842 onwards. Since 1868 the state of things has changed again, of which more anon. I have taken care not to strike out of the text the many prophecies, amongst others that of an imminent social revolution in England, which my youthful ardour induced me to venture upon. The wonder is, not that a good many of these prophecies proved wrong, but that so many of them have proved right, and that the critical state of English trade, to be brought on by Continental and especially American competition, which I then foresaw though in too short a period has now actually come to pass. In this respect I am bound to bring the book up to date, by placing here an article which appeared in the London Commonweal of March 1, 1885 in English and in Neue Zeit in June of the same year (Issue 6) in German. Forty years ago England stood face to face with a crisis, solvable to all appearances by force only. The immense and rapid development of manufactures had outstripped the extension of foreign markets and the increase of demand. Every ten years the march of industry was violently interrupted by a general commercial crash, followed, after a long period of chronic depression, by a few short years of prosperity, and always ending in feverish over-production and consequent renewed collapse. The capitalist class clamoured for Free Trade in corn, and threatened to enforce it by sending the starving population of the towns back to the country districts whence they came, to invade them, as John Bright said, not as paupers begging for bread, but as an army quartered upon the enemy. The working masses of the towns demanded their share of political power the Peoples Charter; they were supported by the majority of the small trading class, and the only difference between the two was whether the Charter should be carried by physical or by moral force. Then came the commercial crash of 1847 and the Irish famine, and with both the prospect of revolution. The French Revolution of 1848 saved the English middle class. The Socialistic pronunciamentos of the victorious French workmen frightened the small middle class of England and disorganised the narrower, but more matter-of-fact movement of the English working class. At the very moment when Chartism was bound to assert itself in its full strength, it collapsed internally before even it collapsed externally, on the 10th of April, 1848. The action of the working class was thrust into the background. The capitalist class triumphed along the whole line. The Reform Bill of 1831 had been the victory of the whole capitalist class over the landed aristocracy. The repeal of the Corn Laws was the victory of the manufacturing capitalist not only over the landed aristocracy, but over those sections of capitalists, too, whose interests were more or less bound up with the landed interest-bankers, stockjobbers, fundholders, etc. Free Trade meant the readjustment of the whole home and foreign, commercial and financial policy of England in accordance with the interests of the manufacturing capitalists the class which now [These words belong apparently not to Bright but to his adherents. See The Quarterly Review, Vol. 71, No. 141, p. 273.-Ed.] represented the nation. And they set about this task with a will. Every obstacle to industrial production was mercilessly removed. The tariff and the whole system of taxation were revolutionised. Everything was made subordinate to one end, but that end of the utmost importance to the manufacturing capitalist: the cheapening of all raw

produce, and especially of the means of living of the working class; the reduction of the cost of raw material, and the keeping down if not as yet the bringing down - of wages. England was to become the workshop of the world; all other countries were to become for England what Ireland already wasmarkets for her manufactured goods, supplying her in return with raw materials and food. England, the great manufacturing centre of an agricultural world, with an ever-increasing number of corn and cottongrowing Irelands revolving around her, the industrial sun. What a glorious prospect! The manufacturing capitalists set about the realisation of this their great object with that strong common sense and that contempt for traditional principles which has ever distinguished them from their more narrow-minded compeers on the Continent. Chartism was dying out. The revival of commercial prosperity, natural after the revulsion of 1847 had spent itself, was put down altogether to the credit of Free Trade. Both these circumstances had turned the English working class, politically, into the tail of the great Liberal Party, the party led by the manufacturers. This advantage, once gained, had to be perpetuated. And the manufacturing capitalists, from the Chartist opposition, not to Free Trade, but to the transformation of Free Trade into the one vital national question, had learnt, and were learning more and more, that the middle class can never obtain full social and political power over the nation except by the help of the working class. Thus a gradual change came over the relations between both classes. The Factory Acts, once the bugbear of all manufacturers, were not only willingly submitted to, but their expansion into acts regulating almost all trades was tolerated. Trades Unions, hitherto considered inventions of the devil himself, were now petted and patronised as perfectly legitimate institutions, and as useful means of spreading sound economical doctrines amongst the workers. Even strikes, than which nothing had been more nefarious up to 1848, were now gradually found out to be occasionally very useful, especially when provoked by the masters themselves, at their own time. Of the legal enactments, placing the workman at a lower level or at a disadvantage with regard to the master, at least the most revolting were repealed. And, practically, that horrid Peoples Charter actually became the political programme of the very manufacturers who had opposed it to the last. The Abolition of the Property Qualification and Vote by Ballot are now the law of the land. The Reform Acts of 1867 and 1884 make a near approach to universal suffrage, at least such as it now exists in Germany; the Redistribution Bill now before Parliament creates equal electoral districts-on the whole not more unequal than those of France or Germany; payment of members, and shorter, if not actually annual Parliaments, are visibly looming in the distanceand yet there are people who say that Chartism is dead. The Revolution of 1848, not less than many of its predecessors, has had strange bedfellows and successors. The very people who put it down have become, as Karl Marx used to say, its testamentary executors. Louis Napoleon had to create an independent and united Italy, Bismarck had to revolutionise Germany and to restore Hungarian independence, and the English manufacturers had to enact the Peoples Charter. For England, the effects of this domination of the manufacturing capitalists were at first startling. Trade revived and extended to a degree unheard of even in this cradle of modern industry; the previous astounding creations of steam and machinery dwindled into nothing compared with the immense mass of productions of the twenty years from 1850 to 1870, with the overwhelming figures of exports and imports, of wealth accumulated in the hands of capitalists and of human working power concentrated in

the large towns. The progress was indeed interrupted, as before, by a crisis every ten years, in 1857 as well as in 1866; but these revulsions were now considered as natural, inevitable events, which must be fatalistically submitted to, and which always set themselves right in the end. And the condition of the working-class during this period? There was temporary improvement even for the great mass. But this improvement always was reduced to the old level by the influx of the great body of the unemployed reserve, by the constant superseding of hands by new machinery, by the immigration of the agricultural population, now, too, more and more superseded by machines. A permanent improvement can be recognised for two protected sections only of the working class. Firstly, the factory hands. The fixing by Act of Parliament of their working-day within relatively rational limits has restored their physical constitution and endowed them with a moral superiority, enhanced by their local concentration. They are undoubtedly better off than before 1848. The best proof is that, out of ten strikes they make, nine are provoked by the manufacturers in their own interests, as the only means of securing a reduced production. You can never get the masters to agree to work short time, let manufactured goods be ever so unsaleable; but get the workpeople to strike, and the masters shut their factories to a man. Secondly, the great Trades Unions. They are the organisations of those trades in which the labour of Grown-up men predominates, or is alone applicable. Here the competition neither of women and children nor of machinery has so far weakened their organised strength. The engineers, the carpenters and joiners, the bricklayers, are each of them a power, to that extent that, as in the case of the bricklayers and bricklayers labourers, they can even successfully resist the introduction of machinery. That their condition has remarkably improved since 1848 there can be no doubt, and the best proof of this is in the fact that for more than fifteen years not only have their employers been with them, but they with their employers, upon exceedingly good terms. They form an aristocracy among the working class; they have succeeded in enforcing for themselves a relatively comfortable position, and they accept it as final. They are the model working men of Messrs. Leone Levi & Giffen (and also the worthy Lujo Brentano), and they are very nice people indeed nowadays to deal with, for any sensible capitalist in particular and for the whole capitalist class in general. But as to the great mass of working people, the state of misery and insecurity in which they live now is as low as ever, if not lower. The East End of London is an everspreading pool of stagnant misery and desolation, of starvation when out of work, and degradation, physical and moral, when in work. And so in all other large towns-abstraction made of the privileged minority of the workers; and so in the smaller towns and in the agricultural districts. The law which reduces the value of labour-power to the value of the necessary means of subsistence, and the other law which reduces its average price, as a rule, to the minimum of those means of subsistence, these laws act upon them with the irresistible force of an automatic engine which crushes them between its wheels. This, then was the position created by the Free Trade policy of 1847, and by twenty years of the rule of the manufacturing capitalists. But then a change came. The crash of 1866 was, indeed, followed by a slight and short revival about 1873; but that did not last. We did not, indeed, pass through the full crisis

at the time it was due, in 1877 or 1878; but we have had, ever since 1876, a chronic state of stagnation in all dominant branches of industry. Neither will the full crash come; nor will the period of longed-for prosperity to which we used to be entitled before and after it. A dull depression, a chronic glut of all markets for all trades, that is what we have been living in for nearly ten years. How is this? The Free Trade theory was based upon one assumption: that England was to be the one great manufacturing centre of an agricultural world. And the actual fact is that this assumption has turned out to be a pure delusion. The conditions of modern industry, steam-power and machinery, can be established wherever there is fuel, especially coals. And other countries besides England-France, Belgium, Germany, America, even Russiahave coals. And the people over there did not see the advantage of being turned into Irish pauper farmers merely for the greater wealth and glory of English capitalists. They set resolutely about manufacturing, not only for themselves, but for the rest of the world; and the consequence is that the manufacturing monopoly enjoyed by England for nearly a century is irretrievably broken up. But the manufacturing monopoly of England is the pivot of the present social system of England. Even while that monopoly lasted, the markets could not keep pace with the increasing productivity of English manufacturers; the decennial crises were the consequence. And new markets are getting scarcer every day, so much so that even the Negroes of the Congo are now to be forced into the civilisation attendant upon Manchester calicos, Staffordshire pottery, and Birmingham hardware. How will it be when Continental, and especially American, goods flow in in ever-increasing quantities when the predominating share, still held by British manufacturers, will become reduced from year to year? Answer, Free Trade, thou universal panacea. I am not the first to point this out. Already in 1883, at the Southport meeting of the British Association, Mr. Inglis Palgrave, the President of the Economic section, stated plainly that the days of great trade profits in England were over, and there was a pause in the progress of several great branches of industrial labour. The country might almost be said to be entering the non-progressive state. But what is to be the consequence? Capitalist production cannot stop. It must go on increasing and expanding, or it must die. Even a Report of the Fifty-Third Meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science; held at Southport in September 1883, now the mere reduction of Englands lions share in the supply of the worlds markets means stagnation, distress, excess of capital here, excess of unemployed workpeople there. What will it be when the increase of yearly production is brought to a complete stop? Here is the vulnerable place, the heel of Achilles, for capitalistic production. Its very basis is the necessity of constant expansion, and this constant expansion now becomes impossible. It ends in a deadlock. Every year England is brought nearer face to face with the question: either the country must go to pieces, or capitalist production must. Which is it to be?

And the working class? If even under the unparalleled commercial and industrial expansion, from 1848 to 1868, they have had to undergo such misery; if even then the great bulk of them experienced at best but a temporary improvement of their condition, while only a small, privileged, protected minority was permanently benefited, what will it be when this dazzling period is brought finally to a close; when the present dreary stagnation shall not only become intensified, but this, its intensified condition, shall become the permanent and normal state of English trade? The truth is this: during the period of Englands industrial monopoly the English working class have, to a certain extent, shared in the benefits of the monopoly. These benefits were very unequally parcelled out amongst them; the privileged minority pocketed most, but even the great mass had, at least, a temporary share now and then. And that is the reason why, since the dying-out of Owenism, there has been no Socialism in England. With the breakdown of that monopoly, the English working class will lose that privileged position; it will find itself generally the privileged and leading minority not excepted-on a level with its fellow-workers abroad. And that is the reason why there will be Socialism again in England. So I wrote in 1885. In the Preface to the English edition written on January 11, 1892 I continued: To this statement of the case, as that case appeared to me in 1885, I have but little to add. Needless to say that to-day there is indeed Socialism again in England, and plenty of it-Socialism of all shades: Socialism conscious and unconscious, Socialism prosaic and poetic, Socialism of the working class and of the middle class, for, verily, that abomination of abominations, Socialism, has not only become respectable, but has actually donned evening dress and lounges lazily on drawing-room causeuses. That shows the incurable fickleness of that terrible despot of society, middle-class public opinion, and once more justifies the contempt in which we Socialists of a past generation always held that public opinion. At the same time we have no reason to grumble at the symptom itself. What I consider far more important than this momentary fashion among bourgeois circles of affecting a mild dilution of Socialism, and even more than the actual progress Socialism has made in England generally, that is the revival of the East End of London. That immense haunt of misery is no longer the stagnant pool it was six years ago. It has shaken off its torpid despair, has returned to life, and has become the home of what is called the New Unionism, that is to say, of the organisation of the great mass of unskilled workers. This organisation may to a great extent adopt the form of the old Unions of skilled workers but it is essentially different in character. The old Unions preserve the traditions of the time when they were founded, and look upon the wages system as a once-for-all established, final fact, which they at best can modify in the interest of their members. The new Unions were founded at a time when the faith in the eternity of the wages system was severely shaken; their founders and promoters were Socialists either consciously or by feeling; the masses, whose adhesion gave them strength, were rough, neglected, looked down upon by the working-class aristocracy; but they had this immense advantage, that their minds were virgin soil, entirely free from the inherited respectable bourgeois prejudices which hampered the brains of the better situated old Unionists. And thus we see now these new Unions taking the lead of the working-class movement generally, and more and more taking in tow the rich and proud, old Unions.

Undoubtedly, the East Enders have committed colossal blunders; so have their predecessors, and so do the doctrinaire Socialists who pooh-pooh them. A large class, like a great nation, never learns better or quicker than by undergoing the consequences of its own mistakes. And for all the faults committed in past, present and future, the revival of the East End of London remains one of the greatest and most fruitful facts of this fin de sicle, and glad and proud I am to have lived to see it. Since I wrote the above, six months ago, the English working-class movement has again made a good step forward. The parliamentary elections which took place a few days ago gave both the official parties, Conservative as well as Liberal, notice in due form that from now on one and the other will have to reckon with a third party, the workers party. This workers party is now only in the process of formation; its elements are still engaged in shaking off traditional prejudices of all kinds-bourgeois, old trade-unionist, indeed, even doctrinaire-socialist-in order to be able to get together at last on ground common to all of them. And yet the instinct to unite which they followed was already so strong that it produced election results hitherto unheard-of in England. In London two workers have stood for election, and openly as Socialists at that; the Liberals did not dare to put up one of theirs against them, and the two Socialists have won by an overwhelming and unexpected majority [James Keir Hardie and John Burns. Ed.+. In Middlesbrough a workers candidate [John Havelock Wilson.Ed.] has stood against a Liberal and a Conservative and been elected in the teeth of both; on the other hand, the new workers candidates who allied themselves with the Liberals have been hopelessly defeated, with the exception of a single one. Among those who so far have been called workers representatives, that is, those who are forgiven their quality of workers because they themselves would willingly drown it in the ocean of their liberalism, the most significant representative of the old Unionism, Henry Broadhurst, has suffered a striking defeat because he declared himself against the eight-hour day. In two Glasgow, one Salford, and several other constituencies, independent workers candidates stood against candidates of the two old parties; they were beaten, but so were the Liberal candidates. Briefly, in a number of largetown and industrial constituencies the workers have resolutely severed all connections with the two old parties and thus achieved direct or indirect successes such as they had never scored in any election so far. And the joy on this account among the workers is boundless. For the first time they have seen and felt what they can do when they make use of their electoral rights in the interest of their class. The superstitious belief in the great Liberal Party which had kept a hold on the English workers for nearly forty years has been destroyed. They have seen by striking examples that they, the workers, are the decisive force in England if only they have the will and know their own will; and the 1892 elections have been the beginning of that knowledge and that will. The workers movement on the Continent will see to the rest: the Germans and the French, who are already so strongly represented in parliaments and local councils, will keep the spirit of emulation of the English sufficiently high by further successes. And if in the not very distant future it turns out that this new parliament can get nowhere with Mr. Gladstone, nor Mr. Gladstone with this parliament, the English workers party will surely be sufficiently constituted to put an early end to the seesaw game of the two old parties which have been succeeding each other in power and thereby perpetuating bourgeois rule. F. Engels London, July 21, 1892


From the Marx-Engels Correspondence Marx-Engels Correspondence 1857 Engels To Marx In London

Source: MECW Volume 40, p. 182; First published: slightly abridged in Der Briefwechsel zwischen F. Engels und K. Marx, Stuttgart, 1913 and in full in Marx and Engels, Works, Moscow, 1929.

Ryde, 24 September 1857

Dear Marx, Depicted above is the castle where Cromwell incarcerated Charles I for a while. I shall inspect it more closely on Sunday. Your wishes concerning India coincided with an idea I had that you might perhaps like to have my views on the business. At the same time I took the opportunity of going over the contents of the latest mail map in hand andvoici ce qui en resulte.

The situation of the English in the middle and upper reaches of the Ganges is so incongruous that militarily speaking the only right course would be to effect a junction between Havelocks column and the one from Delhi, if possible at Agra, after each had done everything possible to evacuate the detached or invested garrisons in the area; to man, besides Agra, only the neighbouring stations south of the Ganges, especially Gwalior (on account of the Central Indian princes) and to hold the stations lower down the Ganges Allahabad, Benares, Dinapur with the existing garrisons and reinforcements from Calcutta; meanwhile to escort women and non-combatants down river, so that the troops again become mobile; and to employ mobile columns to instill respect in the region and to obtain supplies. If Agra cannot be held, there must be a withdrawal to Cawnpore or Allahabad; the latter to be held at all costs since it is the key to the territory between the Ganges and the Jumna. If Agra can be held and the Bombay army remains available, the armies of Bombay and Madras must hold the peninsula proper up to the latitude of Ahmedabad and Calcutta and send out columns to establish communications with the north the Bombay army via Indor and Gwalior to Agra, the Madras army via Saugor and Gwalior to Agra, and via Jubbulpore to Allahabad. The other lines of communication would then run to Agra from the Punjab, assuming it is held, and from Calcutta via Dinapur and Allahabad, so that there would be 4 lines of communication and, excluding the Punjab, 3 lines of withdrawal, to Calcutta, Bombay and Madras. Concentrating the troops arriving from the south at Agra would, therefore, serve the dual purpose of keeping the Central Indian princes in check and subduing the insurgent districts astride the line of march. If Agra cannot he held, the Madras army must first establish communications with Allahabad and then make for Agra with the Allahabad troops, while the Bombay army makes for Gwalior. The Madras army would seem to have been recruited exclusively from the rag-tag and bobtail and to that extent is reliable. In Bombay they have 150 or more Hindus to a battalion and these are dangerous in that they may disaffect the rest. If the Bombay army revolts, all military calculations will temporarily cease to apply, and then nothing is more certain than that there'll be one colossal massacre from Kashmir to Cape Comorin. If the situation in Bombay is such that in future also the army cannot be used against the insurgents, then at least the Madras columns, which will by now have pushed on beyond Nagpur, will have to be reinforced and communications established as speedily as possible with Allahabad or Benares. The absurdity of the position in which the English have now been placed by the total absence of any real supreme command is demonstrated mainly by 2 complementary circumstances, namely, 1. that they permit themselves to be invested when dispersed over a host of small, far flung stations while 2. they tie down their one and only mobile column in front of Delhi where not only can it do nothing but is actually going to pot. The English general who ordered the march on Delhi deserves to be cashiered and hanged, for he must have known what we have only just learned, viz. that the British had strengthened the old fortifications to the point where the place could only be taken by a systematic siege, for which a minimum of 15-20,000 men would be required, and far more if it was well defended. Now that they are there they will have to stick it out for political reasons; a withdrawal would be a defeat and will nevertheless be difficult to avoid.

Havelocks troops have worked wonders. 126 miles in 8 days including 6 to 8 engagements in that climate and at this time of year is truly superhuman. But they're also quite played out; he, too, will probably have to let himself be invested after exhausting himself still further by excursions over a narrow radius round Cawnpore. Or he will have to return to Allahabad. The actual route of reconquest will run up the valley of the Ganges. Bengal proper will be easier to hold since the population has so greatly degenerated; the really dangerous region begins at Dinapur. Hence the positions at Dinapur, Benares, Mirzapur and particularly Allahabad are of the utmost importance; from Allahabad, it would first be necessary to take the Doab (between the Ganges. and the Jumna) and the cities on these two rivers, then Oudh, then the rest. The lines from Madras and Bombay to Agra and Allahabad can only be secondary lines of operations. The main thing, as always, is concentration. The reinforcements sent up the Ganges are scattered all over the place and so far not one man has reached Allahabad. Unavoidable, perhaps, if these stations were to be made secure and then again, perhaps not. At all events, the number of stations to be held must he reduced to a minimum and forces must be concentrated for the field. If C. Campbell, about whom we know nothing save that he is a brave man, wants to distinguish himself as a general, he must create a mobile army, cote que cote [cost what it may], whether or not Delhi is abandoned. And where, summa summarum, there are 25-30,000 European soldiers, no situation is so desperate that 5,000 at least cannot be mustered for a campaign, their losses being made good by the garrisons withdrawn from the stations. Only then will Campbell be able to see how he stands and what kind of enemy is actually confronting him. The odds are, however, that like a fool he will se blottir devant [squat down before] Delhi and watch his men go to pot at the rate of 100 a day, in which case it will be all the more brave simply to stay there until everyone has cheerfully met his doom. Now as in the past brave stupidity is the order of the day. Concentration of forces for the fighting in the north, vigorous support from Madras and, if possible, from Bombay, thats all. Even if the Mahratta princes on the Nerbudda defect it can do little harm save by way of an example, for their troops are already with the insurgents. Certainly the very most that can be done is to hold out until the first reinforcements arrive from Europe at the end of October. But if a few more Bombay regiments revolt, that will be the end of strategy and tactics; its there that the decision lies. I leave for Brighton on Tuesday at the latest and set out from there for Jersey at 10 o'clock on Wednesday night, but will let you have further details, and hope that you will come. Tomorrow shall start on Battery, etc. Today I drove round the island and, as I again slogged away until 3 o'clock yesterday, now propose to have a good long sleep. Your F. E.

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1858 Marx To Engels In Manchester

Source: MECW Volume 40, p. 248; First published: abridged in Der Briefwechsel zwischen F. Engels und K. Marx, Stuttgart, 1913, and in full in: Marx and Engels, Works, Moscow, 1929.
[London,] 16 January 1858 Dear Frederick, You, too, will have had a letter from Harney about friend [Conrad] Schramm. There was no prospect of recovery. A pity, though, that money worries for which the fat London philistine [Rudolf Schramm] is to blame should have clouded his last days. Your article 3 is splendid and in style and manner altogether reminiscent of the Neue Rheinische Zeitung in its heyday. As for Windham, he may be a very bad general, but on this occasion the man was undone by what was the making of him at the Redan unseasoned troops. I am generally of the opinion that in terms of bravery, self-reliance and steadiness this, the second army England has committed to India (and of which not a man will return), will not be able to hold a candle to the first, which seems to have dwindled away almost entirely. As regards the effect of the climate on the troops, while temporarily in charge of the military department I showed in various articles by exact calculations that mortality was disproportionately higher than stated in the official English despatches. In view of the drain of men and bullion which she will cost the English, India is now our best ally. On Monday I shall again visit the Museum, after which I shall send you Catapult along with the other stuff you ask for drawn from the best sources. I have not done Coehoorn, as it would have taken me too much time to unearth the correct sources. I am exceedingly glad to learn that your health is progressing well. For the past 3 weeks I, too, have again been dosing myself and only stopped doing so today. I had been overdoing very much my nocturnal labours, accompanied, it is true, by mere lemonade on the one hand, but an immense deal of tobacco on the other. I am, by the way, discovering some nice arguments. E.g. I have completely

demolished the theory of profit as hitherto propounded. What was of great use to me as regards method of treatment was Hegels Logic at which I had taken another look by mere accident, Freiligrath having found and made me a present of several volumes of Hegel, originally the property of Bakunin. If ever the time comes when such work is again possible, I should very much like to write 2 or 3 sheets making accessible to the common reader the rational aspect of the method which Hegel not only discovered but also mystified. Of all recent economists, Monsieur Bastiat with his Harmonies conomiques represents the very dregs of fatuity at their most concentrated. Only a crapaud could have concocted an harmonious pot-au-feu of this kind. What do you think of our friend Jones? I still refuse to believe that the chap has sold himself. Perhaps his experience of 1848 lies heavy on his stomach. So great is his faith in himself that he may think himself capable of exploiting the middle class or imagine that if only, one way or the other, Ernest Jones could be got into Parliament, world history could not fail to take a new turn. The best of it all is that out of spite against Jones, of course Reynolds is now posing in his paper as the most rabid opponent of the middle class and of all compromise. Mr B. O'Brien has likewise become an irrepressible Chartist at any price. Jones only excuse is the enervation now rampant among the working class in England. However that may be, if he goes on as at present he will become either dupe of the middle class or renegade. The fact that he should now seek to avoid me as anxiously as he once used to consult me over the merest trifle is evidence of anything but a good conscience. Herewith a letter for Lupus from Laura and Jenny. The two girls naturally imagine that you might take umbrage at Lupus appearing to be preferred as a correspondent. Hence they have earnestly admonished me not to forget to tell you that yours shall be the next turn. I shall wait another 3 weeks until the situation has pretty well come to a head and then write to Mr Dana saying that I cannot go on working for the Tribune if I'm restricted to 4 articles a month, and that 6 is the minimum. In fact I am now invariably obliged to compress into 1 article sufficient material for 2, and hence am doing double the work for half the price. This will never do. Did you enclose Lassalles and Friedlnders letters in the one about Lassalle which went astray? For political reasons, it would be desirable to preserve them. Salut. Your K. M.

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1862 Marx To Engels In Manchester

Source: MECW Volume 41, p. 347; First published: in Der Briefwechsel zwischen F. Engels und K. Marx, Stuttgart, 1913.

[London,] 6 March 1862 Dear Frederick, My best thanks for the Post Office order and the wine. That swine Koller, who has an I.O.U. of mine, had already dunned me yesterday. I enclose herewith the 3 last Free Presses. I havent yet seen Collet in person, but feel sure he will be able to get hold of the other numbers as well. In my letter to you, read Japan for Java. I obtained the actual facts from sundry numbers of the Tribune which contained the official Russian communiqus and reports from American consuls all of them suppressed by the English press. I sent the relevant numbers to Urquhart and havent yet got them back. I had previously used them for a Presse article on the Russian advance in Asia. However, the jackasses didnt print it. Now, you know what a bad memory for names I've got. So, at the moment I cant provide you with the names. The first island lies exactly half way between the south-western extremity of Japan and the Korean mainland. It has a large harbour and, according to the American account, is capable of becoming a second Sevastopol. As regards the other islands that are actual Japanese possessions, one of them, if I am not mistaken, is called Jeso. However, I shall see if I can retrieve the documents. Chinese trade, compared with what it was like up to 1852, has certainly increased, but by no means on the same scale as have all other markets since the Californian-Australian discoveries. Moreover, in earlier reports Hong Kong, as an English possession, is shown separately from China, so that exports under the heading China invariably (from the 40s on) amount to less than total exports. Finally, the increment achieved since 1859 fell back in 1861 to its former level. In consequence of the American crisis, the Board of Trade report for 1861 shows a considerable change in the ranking order of the various markets for English exports. India leads with 17,923,767 (including Ceylon and Singapore. India alone, 16,412,090). Second market Germany, normally 4th. 1860: 13,491,523. 1861: 12,937,073 (not including what goes via Holland and, to a lesser degree, via Belgium). In view of Germanys economic importance to England, what a diplomatic advantage it would give us, circumstances being different, over bluff John Bull!

France this year the 5th market. 1860: 5,249,980. 1861: 8,896,282. However, that includes Switzerland as well. England, on the other hand, now ranks as the premier market for France. Out of the total exports of 125,115,133 (1861), 42,260,970 go to English possessions and colonies. If one adds to that what England exports to other parts of Asia, Africa and America, there remains at most 23 to 24% for export to the countries of Europe. Should Russia continue to advance in Asia at the same rapid pace as during the past 10 years, until all her efforts are concentrated on India, it will be the end of John Bulls world market, a demise that will be hastened by the United Statess protective tariff policy, which that country will certainly be in no hurry to relinquish, if only out of revenge against John. Moreover, John Bull is discovering to his horror that his main colonies in North America and Australia are becoming protectionist to the same extent as he himself is becoming a Free-Trader. The complacent, brutal stupidity with which John has acclaimed Pams spirited policy in Asia and America, will one day cost him damned dear. To me it does not seem very probable that the Southerners will have concluded peace by July 1862. When the Northerners have 1. secured the Border states and it is upon these, in fact, that everything has centred from the start and 2. the Mississippi as far as New Orleans and Texas, the war may well enter a 2nd phase during which the Northerners will make no great exertions of a military nature but, by isolating the Gulf states, finally bring them to the point of voluntary re-annexation. During this war Bull has acted with what must be wholly unprecedented effrontery. In terms of brutality on the English side, the Mexican Blue Book exceeds anything previously known in history. Menshikov appears a gentleman compared with Sir C. Lennox Wyke. Not only does this blackguard evince the most immoderate zeal in the execution of Pains secret instructions but, by his insolence, also seeks to avenge himself for the fact that, in the exchange of diplomatic dispatches, Senor Zamacona, the Mexican Foreign Minister (now resigned) and erstwhile Journalist, invariably proves himself superior. As for the chaps style, herewith a few examples from his dispatches to Zamacona. *the arbitrary act of stopping all payments for the space of two years is depriving the parties interested of their money for that space of time, which is a dead loss of so much value to them. A starving man may justify, in his own eyes, the fact of stealing a loaf on the ground that imperious necessity impelled him thereto; but such an argument cannot, in a moral point of view, justify his violation of the law, which remains as positive, apart from all sentimentality, as if the crime had not had an excuse. If he was actually starving, he should have first asked the baker to assuage his hunger, but doing so (starving?) of his own free will, without permission, isacting exactly, as the Mexican government has done towards its creditors opt the present occasion. With regard to the light in which you view the question, as expressed in your above named note, you will excuse me for stating that it cannot be treated of partially, without also taking into consideration the opinions of those who directly suffer from the practical operation of such ideas as emanating from yourself. I had a full right to complain ... of having first of all heard of this extraordinary measure ... by seeing it in printed bills placarded through the public streets ...

I have a duty to perform both to my own Gvt. and to that to which I am accredited, which impels me..., etc., I suspend all official relations with the Government of this Republic until that of Her Majesty shall adopt such measures as they shall deem necessary.* Zamacona writes and tells him that the intrigues of foreign diplomatists in the past 25 years have been largely to blame for the troubles in Mexico. Wyke replies that *the population of Mexico is so degraded as to make them dangerous, not only to themselves, but to everybody coming into contact with them!'* Zamacona writes, saying that the propositions he *Wyke+ has made would put an end to the Republics independence, and were incompatible with the dignity of any independent state. Wyke replies: *Excuse me for adding that such a proposition as I have made to you does not necessarily become undignified and impracticable simply, because you, an interested person,* (i.e., Foreign Minister of Mexico) *'are pleased to say so.'* But satis superque. According to a letter from Schily to Rheinlnder, things look most precarious in Paris and, unless there is war, Badinguet cannot hold on for another year. What bad luck for the chap that he should have the Parisians to govern, and not the Berliners, who admire him. Salut. Your K. M. PS. 1. How do I translate gigs into German? 2. What are feeders on circular frames? 3. Could you inform me of all the different types of workers employed, e.g., at your mill (all, that is, except the warehouse), and in what proportion to each other? For in my book, I need an example showing that, in mechanical workshops, the division of labour, as forming the basis of manufacture and as described by A. Smith, does not exist. The proposition itself has already been set forth by Ure. All that is needed is an example of some kind. I must write and tell the chaps at the Presse that some new arrangement will have to be made. Its all the same to me if they dont print the best articles (although I always write them in such a way that they can print them). But financially its no go if, out of every 4 or 5 articles, they print 1 and only pay for 1. That places me far below the penny-a-liners.

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881 Marx to Nikolai Danielson In St. Petersburg Abstract

Source: Marx and Engels Correspondence; Publisher: International Publishers (1968); First Published: Gestamtausgabe; Translated: Donna Torr; Transcribed: Sally Ryan in 1999; HTML Markup: Sally Ryan.

London, February 19, 1881 I have read with the greatest interest your article, which is in the best sense of the word original. Hence the boycotting if you break through the webs of routine thought, you are always sure to be boycotted in the first instance; it is the only arm of defence which in their first perplexity the routiniers know how to wield. I have been boycotted in Germany for many, many years, and am still so in England, with that little variation that from time to time something so absurd and asinine is launched against me that I would blush to take any public notice of it. But try on! The next thing to do in my opinion is to take up the wonderfully increasing indebtedness of the landlords,the upper-class representatives of agriculture, and show them how they are crystallised in the retort under the control of the new pillars of society. I am very anxious to see your polemics with the Slovo. As soon as I shall sail in more quiet waters I shall enter more fully upon your Esquisse [sketch]. For the present I cannot omit one observation. The soil being exhausted and getting not the elements by artificial and vegetable and animal manure, etc. to supply its wants, will, with the changing favour of the seasons, of circumstances independent of human influence still continue to yield harvests of very different amounts, though, summing up a period of years, as for instance, from 1870-80, the stagnant character of the production presents itself in the most striking character. Under such circumstances the favourable climatic conditions pave the way to a famine year by quickly consuming and setting free the mineral fertilisers still potent on the soil, while vice-versa, a famine-year, and still more a series of bad years following it, allow the soil-inherent minerals to accumulate anew, and to work efficiently with returning favour of the climatic conditions. Such a process goes, of course, everywhere on, but elsewhere it is checked by the modifying

intervention of the agriculturist himself. It becomes the only regulating factor where man has ceased to be a power for want of means. So we have 1870 as an excellent harvest in your country, but that year is a climax year, and as such immediately followed by a very bad one; the year 1871, the very bad harvest, must be considered as the starting point for a new little cycle, till we come to the new climax year 1874, which is immediately followed by the famine year 1875; then the upwards movement begins again, ending in the still worse famine year 1880. The summing up of the years during the whole period proves that the average annual production remained the same and that the mere natural factors have alone produced the changes, comparing the single years and the smaller cycles of years. I wrote you some time ago, that if the great industrial and commercial crisis England has passed through, went over without the culminating financial crash at London, this exceptional phenomenon was only due to French money. This is now seen and acknowledged even by English routiniers. Thus the Statist (January 19, 1881) says: The money market has only be*en+ so easy as it has been during the past years through an accident. The Bank of France in the early autumn permitted its stock of gold bullion to fall from 30 millions to 22 millions .... Last autumn undoubtedly there was a very narrow escape. (!) The English railway system rolls on the same inclined plane as the European Public Debt system. The ruling magnates amongst the different railway-nets directors contract not only progressively new loans in order to enlarge their network, i.e., the territory, where they rule as absolute monarchs, but they enlarge their respective networks in order to have new pretexts for engaging in new loans which enable them to pay the interest due to the holders of obligations, preferential shares, etc., and also from time to time to throw a sop to the much ill-used common shareholders in the shape of somewhat increased dividends. This pleasant method must one day or another terminate in an ugly catastrophe. In the United States the railway kings have become the butt of attacks, not only, as before this, on the part of the farmers and other industrial entrepreneurs of the West, but also on the part of the grand representative of commerce the New York Chamber of Commerce. The Octopodus railway king and financial swindler Gould has, on his side, told the New York commercial magnates: You now attack the railways, because you think them most vulnerable considering their present unpopularity; but take heed: after the railways every sort of corporation (means in the Yankee dialect joint stock company) will have its turn; then, later on, all forms of associated capital; finally all forms of capital; you are thus paving the way to Communism whose tendencies are already more and more spreading among the people. M. Gould a le flair bon. In India serious complications, if not a general outbreak, is in store for the British government. What the English take from them annually in the form of rent, dividends for railways useless to the Hindus; pensions for military and civil service men, for Afghanistan and other wars, etc., etc. what they take from them without any equivalent and quite apart from what they appropriate to themselves annually within India, speaking only of the value of the commodities the Indians have gratuitously and annually to send over to England it amounts to more than the total sum of income of the sixty millions

of agricultural and industrial labourers of India! This is a bleeding process, with a vengeance! The famine years are pressing each other and in dimensions till now not yet suspected in Europe! There is an actual conspiracy going on wherein Hindus and Mussulmans co-operate; the British government is aware that something is brewing, but this shallow people (I mean the governmental men), stultified by their own parliamentary ways of talking and thinking, do not even desire to see clear, to realise the whole extent of the imminent danger! To delude others and by deluding them to delude yourself this is: parliamentary wisdom in a nutshell! Tant mieux!

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1890 Engels to Conrad Schmidt In Berlin Abstract

Source: Marx and Engels Correspondence; Publisher: International Publishers (1968); First Published: Gestamtausgabe; Translated: Donna Torr; Transcribed: Sally Ryan in 2000; HTML Markup: Sally Ryan.

London, October 27, 1890 I think you would do very well to take the post in Zrich. [Editor of the Zrich Post.] You could always learn a good deal about economics there, especially if you bear in mind that Zrich is still only a thirdrate money and speculation market, so that the impressions which make themselves felt there are weakened or deliberately distorted by twofold or threefold reflection. But you will get a practical knowledge of the mechanism and be obliged to follow the stock exchange reports from London, New York, Paris, Berlin and Vienna at first hand, and in this way the world market, in its reflex as money and stock market, will reveal itself to you. Economic, political and other reflections are just like those in the human eye, they pass through a condensing lens and therefore appear upside down, standing on their heads. Only the nervous system which would put them on their feet again for representation is lacking. The money market man only sees the movement of industry and of the world market in the inverted reflection of the money and stock market and so effect becomes cause to him. I noticed that in the 'forties already in Manchester: the London Stock Exchange reports were utterly useless for the course of industry and its periodical maxima and minima because these gentry tried to explain everything from crises on the money market, which were generally only symptoms. At that time the object was to explain away the origin of industrial crises as temporary overproduction, so that the thing had in addition its tendentious side, provocative of distortion. This point has now gone (for us, at any rate, for good and all), added to which it is indeed a fact that the money market can also have its own crises, in which direct disturbances of industry only play a subordinate part or no part at all here there is still much, especially in the history of the last twenty years, to be examined and established.

Where there is division of labour on a social scale there is also mutual independence among the different sections of work. In the last instance production is the decisive factor. But when the trade in products becomes independent of production itself, it follows a movement of its own, which, while it is governed as a whole by production, still in particular cases and within this general dependence follows particular laws contained in the nature of this new factor; this movement has phases of its own and in its turn reacts on the movement of production. The discovery of America was due to the thirst for gold which had previously driven the Portuguese to Africa (compare Soetbeer's Production of Precious Metals), because the enormously extended European industry of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries and the trade corresponding to it demanded more means of exchange than Germany, the great silver country from 1450 to 1550, could provide. The conquest of India by the Portuguese, Dutch and English between 1500 and 1800 had imports from India as its object nobody dreamt of exporting anything there. And yet what a colossal reaction these discoveries and conquests, solely conditioned by the interests of trade, had upon industry: they first created the need for exports to these countries and developed large-scale industry. So it is too with the money market. As soon as trading in money becomes separate from trade in commodities it has (under certain conditions imposed by production and commodity trade and within these limits) a development of its own, special laws and separate phases determined by its own nature. If, in this further development, trade in money extends in addition to trade in securities and these securities are not only government securities but also industrial and transport stocks and shares, so that money trade conquers the direct control over a portion of the production by which, taken as a whole, it is itself controlled, then the reaction of money trading on production becomes still stronger and more complicated. The money traders have become the owners of railways, mines, iron works, etc. These means of production take on a double aspect if their working has to be directed sometimes in the immediate interests of production but sometimes also according to the requirements of the shareholders, in so far as they are money traders. The most striking example of this is the American railways, whose working is entirely dependent on the stock exchange operations of a Jay Gould or a Vanderbilt, etc., these having nothing whatever to do with the particular railway concerned and its interests as a means of communication. And even here in England we have seen struggles lasting for tens of years between different railway companies over the boundaries of their respective territories struggles in which an enormous amount of money was thrown away, not in the interests of production and communications but simply because of a rivalry which usually only had the object of facilitating the stock exchange dealings of the shareholding money traders. With these few indications of my conception of the relation of production to commodity trade and of both to money trading, I have already also answered, in essence, your questions about "historical materialism" generally. The thing is easiest to grasp from the point of view of the division of labour. Society gives rise to certain common functions which it cannot dispense with. The persons selected for these functions form a new branch of the division of labour within society. This gives them particular interests, distinct too from the interests of those who gave them their office; they make themselves independent of the latter and the state is in being. And now the development is the same as it was with commodity trade and later with money trade; the new independent power, while having in the

main to follow the movement of production, also, owing to its inward independence (the relative independence originally transferred to it and gradually further developed) reacts in its turn upon the conditions and course of production. It is the interaction of two unequal forces: on one hand the economic movement, on the other the new political power, which strives for as much independence as possible, and which, having once been established, is also endowed with a movement of its own. On the whole, the economic movement gets its way, but it has also to suffer reactions from the political movement which it established and endowed with relative independence itself, from the movement of the state power on the one hand and of the opposition simultaneously engendered on the other. Just as the movement of the industrial market is, in the main and with the reservations already indicated, reflected in the money market and, of course, in inverted form, so the struggle between the classes already existing and already in conflict with one another is reflected in the struggle between government and opposition, but also in inverted form, no longer directly but indirectly, not as a class struggle but as a fight for political principles, and so distorted that it has taken us thousands of years to get behind it again. The reaction of the state power upon economic development can be one of three kinds: it can run in the same direction, and then development is more rapid; it can oppose the line of development, in which case nowadays state power in every great nation will go to pieces in the long run; or it can cut off the economic development from certain paths, and impose on it certain others. This case ultimately reduces itself to one of the two previous ones. But it is obvious that in cases two and three the political power can do great damage to the economic development and result in the squandering of great masses of energy and material. Then there is also the case of the conquest and brutal destruction of economic resources, by which, in certain circumstances, a whole local or national economic development could formerly be ruined. Nowadays such a case usually has the opposite effect, at least among great nations: in the long run the defeated power often gains more economically, politically and morally than the victor. It is similar with law. As soon as the new division of labour which creates professional lawyers becomes necessary, another new and independent sphere is opened up which, for all its general dependence on production and trade, still has its own capacity for reacting upon these spheres as well. In a modern state, law must not only correspond to the general economic position and be its expression, but must also be an expression which is consistent in itself, and which does not, owing to inner contradictions, look glaringly inconsistent. And in order to achieve this, the faithful reflection of economic conditions is more and more infringed upon. All the more so the more rarely it happens that a code of law is the blunt, unmitigated, unadulterated expression of the domination of a class this in itself would already offend the conception of justice. Even in the Code Napoleon the pure logical conception of justice held by the revolutionary bourgeoisie of 1792-96 is already adulterated in many ways, and in so far as it is embodied there has daily to undergo all sorts of attenuation owing to the rising power of the proletariat. Which does not prevent the Code Napoleon from being the statute book which serves as a basis for every new code of law in every part of the world. Thus to a great extent the course of the development of law only consists: first in the attempt to do away with the contradictions arising from the direct translation of economic relations into legal principles, and to establish a harmonious system

of law, and then in the repeated breaches made in this system by the influence and pressure of further economic development, which involves it in further contradictions (I am only speaking here of civil law for the moment). The reflection of economic relations as legal principles is necessarily also a topsy turvy one: it happens without the person who is acting being conscious of it; the jurist imagines he is operating with a priori principles, whereas they are really only economic reflexes; so everything is upside down. And it seems to me obvious that this inversion, which, so long as it remains unrecognised, forms what we call ideological conception, reacts in its turn upon the economic basis and may, within certain limits, modify it. The basis of the law of inheritance assuming that the stages reached in the development of the family are equal is an economic one. But it would be difficult to prove, for instance, that the absolute liberty of the testator in England and the severe restrictions imposed upon him in France are only due in every detail to economic causes. Both react back, however, on the economic sphere to a very considerable extent, because they influence the division of property. As to the realms of ideology which soar still higher in the air, religion, philosophy, etc., these have a prehistoric stock, found already in existence and taken over in the historic period, of what we should today call bunk. These various false conceptions of nature, of man's own being, of spirits, magic forces, etc., have for the most part only a negative economic basis; but the low economic development of the prehistoric period is supplemented and also partially conditioned and even caused by the false conceptions of nature. And even though economic necessity was the main driving force of the progressive knowledge of nature and becomes ever more so, it would surely be pedantic to try and find economic causes for all this primitive nonsense. The history of science is the history of the gradual clearing away of this nonsense or of its replacement by fresh but already less absurd nonsense. The people who deal with this belong in their turn to special spheres in the division of labour and appear to themselves to be working in an independent field. And in so far as they form an independent group within the social division of labour, in so far do their productions, including their errors, react back as an influence upon the whole development of society, even on its economic development. But all the same they themselves remain under the dominating influence of economic development. In philosophy, for instance, this can be most readily proved in the bourgeois period. Hobbes was the first modern materialist (in the eighteenth century sense) but he was an absolutist in a period when absolute monarchy was at its height throughout the whole of Europe and when the fight of absolute monarchy versus the people was beginning in England. Locke, both in religion and politics, was the child of the class compromise of 1688. The English deists and their more consistent successors, the French materialists, were the true philosophers of the bourgeoisie, the French even of the bourgeois revolution. The German petty bourgeois runs through German philosophy from Kant to Hegel, sometimes positively and sometimes negatively. But the philosophy of every epoch, since it is a definite sphere in the division of labour, has as its presupposition certain definite intellectual material handed down to it by its predecessors, from which it takes its start. And that is why economically backward countries can still play first fiddle in philosophy: France in the eighteenth century compared with England, on whose philosophy the French based themselves, and later Germany in comparison with both. But the philosophy both of France and Germany and the general blossoming of literature at that time were also

the result of a rising economic development. I consider the ultimate supremacy of economic development established in these spheres too, but it comes to pass within conditions imposed by the particular sphere itself: in philosophy, for instance, through the operation of economic influences (which again generally only act under political, etc., disguises) upon the existing philosophic material handed down by predecessors. Here economy creates nothing absolutely new (a novo), but it determines the way in which the existing material of thought is altered and further developed, and that too for the most part indirectly, for it is the political, legal and moral reflexes which exercise the greatest direct influence upon philosophy. About religion I have said the most necessary things in the last section on Feuerbach. If therefore Barth supposes that we deny any and every reaction of the political, etc., reflexes of the economic movement upon the movement itself, he is simply tilting at windmills. He has only got to look at Marx's Eighteenth Brumaire, which deals almost exclusively with the particular part played by political struggles and events; of course, within their general dependence upon economic conditions. Or Capital, the section on the working day, for instance, where legislation, which is surely a political act, has such a trenchant effect. Or the section on the history of the bourgeoisie. (Chapter XXIV.) Or why do we fight for the political dictatorship of the proletariat if political power is economically impotent? Force (that is state power) is also an economic power. But I have no time to criticise the book now. I must first get Vol. III out and besides I think too that Bernstein, for instance, could deal with it quite effectively. What these gentlemen all lack is dialectic. They never see anything but here cause and there effect. That this is a hollow abstraction, that such metaphysical polar opposites only exist in the real world during crises, while the whole vast process proceeds in the form of interaction (though of very unequal forces, the economic movement being by far the strongest, most elemental and most decisive) and that here everything is relative and nothing is absolute this they never begin to see. Hegel has never existed for them.

Check out On Pre-Capitalist Social Formations and the Peasantry on Marxists.org for the social-economic formations of the peasantry including the Asiatic mode of production and Oriental depostism.