The Notion of Value
by W.F. Lloyd
1833

A Lecture on the Notion of Value as Distinguished Not Only From
Utility, but also from Value in Exchange
Delivered before the University of Oxford, In Michaelmas Term,
1833,
by the Rev. W.F. Lloyd, M.A., F.R.S.
Student of Christ Church, Professor of Political Economy.

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It is provided in the Statute by which the Professorship is
founded, that one Lecture in each course shall be annually
published. In compliance with this provision, the following
Lecture, delivered in Michaelmas term, 1833, is submitted to the
public. The author thinks it necessary to state this, to account
for the abruptness of the beginning, which has reference to a
former Lecture of the course.


    In my last lecture, I treated, in the first place, of the
subject of utility, and afterwards proceeded to consider the
sense in which Adam Smith applied the term value, while inquiring
respecting the real measure of exchangeable value. I then
endeavoured to show, that he could not generally mean by it the
power of purchasing other goods which the possession of any
object conveys -- a meaning, which involves necessarily a
comparison, and therefore a relation, of different objects, while
the context seemed to refer to something positive and absolute --
to something, which could be understood as belonging to a single
object, taken by itself and without reference to other subjects.
From an examination of some particular passages, I collected
that, in those passages at least, he was using the term in the
sense of the real importance of an object to the person
possessing it, and that he made the importance to depend on the
difficulty of attainment. I now proceed to the further
consideration of the view of the subject.(1*)
    A question has been sometimes agitated respecting the
possibility of a general glut of commodities, or, in other words,
of universal over-production. A glut of commodities of any one
species is on all hands admitted to be not only a possible but
frequent occurrence. So likewise, but in a decreasing degree of
probability and frequency, of two, three, four, or more species.
All, therefore, that is denied is the probability of its
extending at once to the majority of commodities, and the
possibility of its being universal. I mention this question, not
with the view of entering on the full consideration of it at
present, but only because it will be useful to my purpose to draw
attention to some of the arguments advanced by those who maintain
the negative side. A general glut of commodities is, they say,
the same thing as a general superabundance of wealth, and would
indicate the full satisfaction of all human wants; but that there
is, in fact, no assignable limit to the desires of mankind; for
when one inconvenience is removed, others present themselves,
which before had never been thought of; and thus the passion for
wealth expands with the gratification of existing wants, and, if
not absolutely infinite, may at least be termed indefinite; being
capable of extending itself far beyond any bounds, to which the
most enthusiastic imagination can believe that the power of human
production will ever reach.
    Now, though it may be reasonably urged, that these arguments
do not bear immediately upon the main question respecting a glut
of commodities, which is concerned rather with the remuneration
of the producers than with the deposition to consumption, yet no
one can doubt the general truth of the propositions themselves.
Nobody, for example, can maintain that, were the aggregate
incomes of all persons in the country to be increased tenfold,
they would find any difficulty in disposing of them.

        Nec Croesi fortuna unquam nec Persica regus
        Sufficient animo -- (Juvenal)

is an apt quotation which I have met with in relation to this
subject, and contains a truth acknowledged by philosophy and
confirmed by the experience of mankind.
    But whether these arguments be applicable or not to the
question of a glut, they would not, I think, be even true in
themselves, if the objects which can gratify human wants were
limited in the number of their kinds. It is only the
multiplication of the kinds of wants which renders the passion
for wealth unlimited. The wants of savages, for example, are
confined to a fe of the most necessary articles, such as food and
clothing, and even of these they have not a sufficiency.
Supposing, however, for a moment, that the catalogue of their
wants could remain invariable, it is not difficult to conceive
the means, by which their existing wants might be fully
gratified. They might be fed to satiety, and clothed to satiety,
and thus, (all new wants being excluded by the hypothesis,) the
final sum of their wealth would be reached, and all further
production would be useless.
    The same would be true of more civilized societies, were
their wants in like manner limited to any determinate number. If
no books of any other description had ever been wanted than such
as existed at the time when printing was invented, this art might
soon have multiplied copies to a degree fully adequate to the
supply of all. The same is true of every other particular
commodity; and thus, it is the infinite variety of wants, and of
the kinds of commodities necessary to their gratification, which
alone renders the passion for wealth indefinite and insatiable.
In the case of each species infima, as logicians call it, the
desire is limited.
    It is now time to point out in what manner these observations
bear upon the question which is directly before us. We have come
to the conclusion, that an increase of quantity will at length
exhaust, or satisfy to the utmost, the demand for any specific
object of desire. Having reached this point, let us now inquire,
what happens, with respect to value, at the time when the demand
or want is thus fully satisfied? It will be found that, in the
case of every commodity, its value vanishes at the very instant
of satisfaction. Take, for example, water. Water is valueless, or
nearly so, except under some special circumstances, by reason of
its abundance. Every person has at his command more than is
sufficient for every purpose to which he can wish to apply it. He
has, therefore, no reason for being sparing in its use. If any
remains after satisfying the present occasion, he has no cause
for hoarding it, or for making a property of it, or debarring
others from the use of it. I mention these particulars, because,
where they are present, they are sure indications of value, and,
according to their intensity, so is the intensity of the value.
We are sparing in the use of a valuable object, because we can
thus make it last the longer, and we wish to make it last the
longer because, when spent and consumed, it cannot easily be
replaced. We hoard it, we appropriate it, we debar others from
the use of it, for the same reason. In the reasons, therefore,
which exist for preserving and for retaining the possession of an
object, its value essentially consists. It has with great
propriety been defined to mean the esteem in which an object is
held. But to make the definition complete and easily
intelligible, some further explanation may perhaps be necessary.
    Let us suppose the case of an hungry man having one ounce,
and only one ounce of food at he command. To him, the ounce is
obviously of very great importance. Suppose him now to have two
ounces. These are still of great importance; but the importance
of the second is not equal to that of the single ounce. In other
words, he would not suffer so much from parting with one of his
two ounces, retaining one for himself, as he would suffer, when
he had only one ounce, by parting with that one, and so retaining
none. The importance of a third ounce is still less than that of
the second; so likewise of a fourth, until at length, in the
continual increase of the number of ounces, we come to a point,
when, "through that infallible specific, eating," the appetite is
entirely or nearly lost, and when, with reset to a single ounce,
it is a matter of indifference whether it is parted with or
retained. Thus while he is scantily supplied with food, he holds
a given portion of it in great esteem-in other words, he sets a
great value on it; when he supply is increased, he esteem for a
given quantity is lessened, or, in other words, he sets a less
value on it.
    Hence the appetite for food may be compared to a spring, a
watch-spring for example, which, when fully compressed, or wound
up, has the greatest tendency to expansion. By degrees, as it
becomes more and more actually expanded, its tendency to fly out
is diminished, until at length it ceases altogether.
    The case is the same with respect to all other commodities.
There may be a certain amount of convenience in having a
timepiece in every room of a house; still the convenience of the
first, that is, the importance of having one, is probably greater
than that of all the rest put together. So, a person who has one
house may wish to have a second, but still the want of the second
is not equal to that of the first.
    Each different kind, therefore, of human wants may like that
of food, be compared to a spring; and, in the comparison, the
different wants, according to their several differences, will be
represented by spring of different degrees of strength. For
example, the wants which food can satisfy will be represented by
a spring of great power. So also those to supply which water is
required. For representing the wants of clothing and fuel, which
are articles not so indispensably necessary to human existence,
spring of an inferior degree of power may suffice. Passing on to
the artificial wants, we may represent them according to their
intensities, by lesser spring of various degrees of strength.
    Let us enter a little more minutely into this comparison. We
can imagine a spring of such strength that a weight of many tons
shall be required in order that its elasticity may be fully and
entirely confined. Yet when some play has been allowed to it, a
less force shall be sufficient to retain it in its new position.
And as it approaches the limit of its power of expansion, the
force even of the hair-spring of a watch shall be sufficient to
keep it in its place. There are, therefore, two ways in which the
same two springs may be compared. We may compare them absolutely,
as when we say that the main-spring of a watch is stronger than
the hair-spring; or, on the other hand, we may compare their
expansive forces under some stated modification of their actual
conditions; as, in the instance of a watch which is nearly down
and on the point of stopping,(2*) we may say that the main-spring
has scarcely more strength, that is, in its actual state of
expansion, has scarcely any greater tendency to expand itself
further than the hair-spring has, when it is most contracted.
    I direct your attention to these two modes of comparing the
same two spring, because I think they may serve to illustrate the
difference between utility and value. We estimate the utilities
of objects by the importance of the wants they are capable of
supplying, considered absolutely; in the same manner as when we
say that the main-spring of a watch is stronger than the
hairspring. As the main-spring remains equally strong whether the
watch be wound up or unwound, so a difference in the degree in
which any want is supplied makes no difference in the utility of
the object which can supply it. Water is no more useful in a ship
at sea, where it is scarce, than on land, where it is plentiful.
The utility of corn is the same after an abundant harvest as in
time of famine.
    But the wants, on which value depends, are analogous to the
tendencies of spring, which are already in part extended, to
extend themselves further. They vary with every variation in the
quantity of commodities, and in the consequent variation of the
degree in which the absolute want is satisfied, as the expansive
tendency of a spring varies with every variation of the degree of
its actual expansion. According to the mode of considering the
force of a spring, the force of the main-spring of a watch may,
as I have already mentioned, be less than that of the
hair-spring; and, according to the analogous mode of considering
wants, the want of the most useful may be less than that of the
least useful articles. Water is more wanted by a man almost dying
with thirst, than by another who has quenched his thirst, and
desires only to wash himself. It is on want, thus estimated, that
value depends. It is not the same thing as the want, but it is
proportional to it, and arises out of it. The gratification
derivable from the use of an object must be taken to be equal to
the want of it, thus estimated; and the value, properly speaking,
is the feeling of affection or esteem for the object, arising
from a sense of the loss of the gratification contingent on the
loss of the object. In its ultimate sense, then, the term
undoubtedly signifies a feeling of the mind, which shows itself
always at the margin of separation between the satisfied and
unsatisfied wants. One point, amongst others, in which it differs
from utility, is, that it attaches only to an object in
possession, while, with respect to the idea of utility,
possession is a matter of indifference.
    I think that the distinction which I have pointed out between
the ways in which the forces of any two spring may be compared,
will be found, lf considered with attention, to throw great light
on the difference between utility and value, to mark their
respective limits, and to show clearly the point of contact,
where the one idea is apt to pass into the other, and where the
danger of confusion is mostly to be apprehended. It must,
however, be borne in mind, that the analog subsists, only between
the two ways in which the forces may be compared, and those in
which human wants may be compared; and not immediately, between
the two ways in which the forces may be compared, and the
relation which subsists between the ideas of utility and value.
The contemplation of the analog will serve to explain the two
different ways of considering human wants, and these being
understood, it is then easy to pass on to the ideas of utility
and value, which are connected with the different wants, and
naturally arise out of them.
    I intimated just now that there was danger of confusion. If,
to a man who has already half a dozen coats, you should offer to
give another, he might probably reply that he would have no use
for it. Here, however, he would speak, not of the abstract
utility of the coat, but of its special utility to him under the
circumstance of he want of coats being already so far supplied.
This, though not quite the same thing as value, approaches very
near to it. The coat would be of no use to him; therefore, were
he to have it, it would not be valuable in he estimation. He
would have no reason for retaining the possession of it, or, were
he to lose it, to regret the loss. But the is very different from
the utility of the coat in the general sense of utility, and
ought not to be confounded with it.
    Perhaps the following may be a good rule for distinguishing
between utility and value; and, if it is borne in mind, there
will, I think, be little danger of confounding the two ideas. To
obtain the idea of the utility of an object, imagine what would
happen, what inconvenience would arise, from the loss, not of
that object alone, but of the whole species to which that object
belong. Thus, to obtain the idea of the utility of water, imagine
the predicament we should be in, were we deprived, not of a
pailful which may chance to be before our eyes, and may stand
destined to some particular use, but of the whole element of
water. But value, as I have already mentioned, attaches to an
object in possession, which, consequently, cannot be unlimited in
quantity. To obtain, therefore, the idea of value, imagine
yourselves deprived, not, as before, of the whole of the species,
but only of the fission of a certain definite quantity. Take
again, for example, the instance of the pail of water, and
suppose it to be overturned. Its value would then be estimable,
either by the inconvenience which would be felt, supposing the
particular want which it was intended to supply to remain
unsatisfied, or by the trouble of going to the well again,
whichever might be least. I may here remark that, though in the
course of this lecture I have spoken of water as valueless, and
it is the example commonly adduced of a very useful article quite
destitute of value, yet this is only to be understood of
exchangeable value. Water in possession has almost always some
value. But the value, under ordinary circumstances, is small, and
not equal to the trouble of an exchange. And on this account
water rarely becomes the subject of exchange.
    I have here been incidentally led to the mention of
exchanges. But it is to be observed that, throughout the
explanation, upon which I have hitherto been engaged, of the
nature of value, there has been no need for one word about
exchanges. As I have explained the idea, it consists in the real
importance of an object to the person who possesses it -- a
definition, which may be collected from a passage of Adam Smith,
as I mentioned in my last lecture. And objects may be of real
importance to the person who possesses them, as much in the case
of an isolated individual, such as Robinson Crusoe, as in the
case of a society, such as exists in England, and in all other
countries with which we are acquainted. The commercial
intercourse, however, to which we are accustomed, and in which
the idea of value is commonly more or less blended with that of
an exchange, has been so long established, that it requires some
effort of the imagination to form a distinct idea of value by
itself, disengaged, on the one hand; from value in exchange, and,
on the other, from the mere notion of utility. It would be
difficult to collect the necessary illustrations from the facts
and occurrences with which we are familiar; and cases purely
hypothetical are less interesting and less instructive. I have
been looking into Robinson Crusoe for examples of value, but have
not found any thing so much to the point as I could have wished.
Still the complete separation of the idea appears to me to be so
necessary a preliminary, in order to a clear conception of the
nature of value in exchange, and of the causes which determine
it, that I think it not ames to read to you the following
passages, which are the best that I have been able to find.
    I presume you to be all acquainted with the life and
adventures of Robinson Crusoe. It will be remembered that in
shaking out an old bag which he wanted for some purpose, he
unconsciously sowed a few grains of barley and rice, which had
chanced to remain in the crevices of the bag. After mentioning
that these took root, sprung up, and ripened, the narrative
proceeds thus: "I carefully saved the ears of the corn, you may
be sure, in their season, which was about the end of June; and
laying up every corn, I resolved to sow them all again; hoping in
time to have some quantity sufficient to supply me with bread;
but it was not till the fourth year that I could allow myself the
least grain of this corn to eat, and even then sparingly, as I
shall show afterwards in its order."
    In all this, he showed he sense, not merely of utility, but
also of the value of his corn. I proceed, however to another
passage.
    "After I had been in my cave for some time, and found no more
shocks of the earthquake to follow, I began to be somewhat more
composed. And now, to support my spirits, which indeed wanted it
very much, I went to my little store, and took a small sup of
rum, which, however, I did then and always very sparingly,
knowing I could have no more when that was gone."
    His rum was valuable. Now let us see what he says about he
ink.
    "A little after this, my ink beginning to fail me, I
contented myself to use it more sparingly; and to note down only
the most remarkable events of my life, without continuing a daily
memorandum of other thing." Again:
    "The next thing to my ink being wasted, was that of my bread
-- I mean the biscuit, which I had brought out of the ship: this
I had husbanded to the last degree, allowing myself but one cake
of bread a day for above a year; and yet I was quite without
bread for nearly a year before I got any corn of my own:"
    In another passage he mentions finding on the sea-shore an
infinite variety of fowls, on which he observes,
    "I could have shot as many as I pleased, but was very sparing
of my powder and shot."
    I will not stop to remark farther on these passages, than
that all this caution in the consumption of the different
articles which he had saved from the ship, indicated a sense of
their value, properly so called. That which has no value cannot
be consumed to waste, and wherever there is the fear of wasting
there is value.
    It is justly observed by Locke, that in a man-of-war silver
may not be of equal value to gunpowder. Yet, were the silver and
the gunpowder on board, both of them public property, there would
be no exchanges, and consequently no exchangeable value.
    And, in the same sense in which the gunpowder might be more
valuable than the silver, we can understand how in a siege or sea
voyage water can be valuable, though, being public property, it
cannot become the subject of an exchange.
    In general, in order to find instances of value existing
without exchanges, we have only to exclude the commerce of a
plurality of properties. In every exchange there is a transfer of
property. In the case, therefore, of a solitary individual, such
as Robinson Crusoe, there can be no exchange, because then there
would be nobody with whom to exchange. Again, in a country in
which the division of labour is unestablished, and in which each
man combines in his own person a variety of employments, and
procures and prepares for his family whatever articles they
consume, it is plain that barter and sale, and consequently value
in exchange, would be unknown. Still these articles would be
valuable -- the possession of them would be of importance to the
person possessing them, though they would not be exchangeable. So
likewise in a society having an internal community of goods and
no external trade, there could be no exchangeable value, because
of the absence of plurality of properties.(3*) We may imagine
such a society to supply itself more or less plentifully with the
luxuries, comforts, and necessaries of life. But these, though
not exchangeable, yet should they be produced in a degree
insufficient for the full supply of every want, would not be
destitute of value.
    Adam Smith remarks, that man is the only animal which makes
exchanges. "Nobody," he says, "ever saw one dog make a fair and
deliberate exchange of one bone for another, with another dog."
"Nobody" he continues, "ever saw one animal, by its gestures and
natural cries, signify to another, "This is mine, that yours; I
am willing to give you the for that." But we may observe, that
dogs have a sense of value, though not of exchangeable value.
Though nobody has ever seen two dogs making an exchange, yet a
dog has been often seen to hide a bone. The dog does this from a
sense of its value, properly so called. He does not do it merely
from a sense of utility, or, in other words, because he likes a
bone, but because he knows that a bone is a good thing which is
not always to be had when wanted. In order that two dogs should
make an exchange then, besides a sense of value, and besides also
other circumstances which I shall hereafter explain, it would be
necessary that they should understand and mutually acknowledge
the rights of property. But to the degree of citation dog have
not yet attained. The nearest approach to it that I know of is in
Constantinople, where the dog act the part of scavengers, and, it
is said, have their regular beats, like beggars in London, no
individual dog ever presuming to trespass beyond his own
territory.
    Some few examples of value, in which the idea of an exchange
is not concerned, might perhaps be taken from common life. We can
well conceive an article made expressly for the use of an
individual, and to him actually both useful and valuable, when to
every other human being it would be absolutely useless, and when
it would, therefore, be altogether destitute of value in
exchange. Extreme cases, however, such as this, where the whole
of the value is altogether personal, are certainly rare. But
cases in which a great part, though not the whole, of the value
is lost in the exchange, are frequent. The value, to the person
for whom it is made, of a coat made to order, cannot be estimated
by what others would give for it. The same may be said of a seal
marked with the crest and initials of its owner. Its value to the
person to whom it belong is increased by its being marked. But
all this increment of value, and more than the, would be lost in
an exchange. The same operation, which renders the commodity of
more value in the estimation of its owner, is calculated to
render it less valuable in the estimation of all other persons,
and therefore of less value in exchange.
    Such then is the notion of absolute as distinguished from
comparative or exchangeable value. It signifies the real
importance of an object to the person who possesses it, and in
this sense it is surely easy to be understood, how an object can
be said to vary in value without any reference to other objects
express or implied. We can understand how, in a time of famine,
corn per se may be said to be more valuable than in a time of
plenty; and how, if labour becomes more effective, so that
commodities of all kinds shall be produced in a degree of
abundance greater in proportion to the wants of mankind, all
sorts of commodities, though exchangeable in the same proportions
as before for each other, could be said to have become less
valuable.
    In this sense of value, it may be remarked that, to a poor
man, the same thing are more valuable than to a rich man; and
this sense, it may be further remarked, agrees with the use of
the term in common discourse. The following, for example, is a
passage I lately met with in an argument on the inequality of
pecuniary punishments.
    "No one would be absurd enough to maintain, that a guinea has
the same value, and, therefore, would become an equal forfeiture
to two persons, the one having a thousand and the other only ten
of these."
    And a little further on: "Now the possession of personal
liberty is equally dear, equally valuable to all, and the
abridgment of it would, therefore, be equally felt by all; and
this reflection naturally points to imprisonment as the
substitute for punishment by fine." It may be said, and to a
certain degree perhaps with truth, that this notion of value,
independent of an exchange, is very vague and undefined. But it
is not more so than the idea of utility, which nobody pretends to
refer to the mere relation of objects to each other. It would
indeed be difficult to discover any accurate test, by which to
measure either the absolute utility of a single object, or the
exact ratio of the comparative utilities of different objects.
Still it does not follow, that the notion of utility has no
foundation in the nature of thing. It does not follow, that
because a thing is incapable of measurement, therefore it has no
real existence. The existence of heat was no less undeniable
before thermometers were invented, than at present. So neither
does it follow, that because the idea of the value of an object,
singly considered, is difficult to be grasped, therefore it can
have no independent existence. Mr Malthus asks very pertinently,
whether in a country where there is nothing but deer, a deer
could be said to be without value, because there would be no
other object with which to compare it, when a man would walk
fifty miles in order to obtain one.
    Two questions, among others, have been agitated respecting
value; the one, whether any object can have intrinsic value, the
other, whether it can have absolute value. It is of this latter
question that I have been treating, and I have been endeavouring
to determine it in the affirmative, that is, to show that an
object can have value of its own, independently of all comparison
with the values of other thing. The question about intrinsic
value is different from this, though, as both intrinsic and
absolute are opposed to relative, the two are apt to be
confounded. I have maintained, that an object can have absolute
value, but it is impossible to maintain, that it can have
intrinsic value in the full sense of the expression. Intrinsic
value means value inherent in the object itself, which must
necessary remain the same while the object remains the same, and
could be changed only by a change in the internal constitution
and nature of the object. Nothing, however, can be called
valuable without reference to somebody to whom it is valuable;
and, hence, according to the variations in the wants of the
individuals to whom we refer, the same commodity, though
retaining the same intrinsic qualities, is variable in value. The
term value, therefore, does not express a quality inherent in a
commodity. It expresses, as I stated before, a feeling of the
mind, and is variable with the variations of the external
circumstances which can influence that feeling, without anY
variation of the intrinsic qualities of the commodity which is
the object of it. It is one thing to maintain, that an object may
have value independently of all reference to the values of other
objects; it is quite another thing to maintain that it can have
value in itself, independently of all reference to mankind. And I
repeat, that it is the former proposition, and not the latter,
that I have been maintaining.
    To illustrate the absolute nature of value, I compared it
with utility, observing, that the one was as much absolute as the
other, and that the objections arising from the indefinite
character of absolute value were equally applicable to utility,
the idea of which was quite as indefinite and as little capable
of mensuration as that of absolute value. To this point of
similarity we may add the negative one, that the utility of an
object is not intrinsic any more than the value. Utility, like
value, is predicated of an object with a reference to the wants
of mankind. Blankets are useful in England, but they are not
useful, or at least not equally useful, in a hot climate. Ice is
useful in summer, useless in winter. Still, the intrinsic
qualities of blankets, and the intrinsic qualities of ice, are at
all times, and in all places, the same.
    Besides explaining the meaning of the term value, I had
intended, in this lecture, to have also considered the question
of the measure of value, and to have examined the grounds on
which sometimes labour, and sometimes corn, have been assumed to
be nearly invariable in their real value, and to be on that
account fitted for measuring the varying values of other
commodities. I find, however, that I shall not to-day have time
for entering on these questions; I shall therefore conclude with
setting before you once more the doctrine against which I have
been contending, together with an illustration of it, which
appears to me to be a very fortunate one, though it has been used
several times by the supporters of that doctrine.
    "We can understand," they say, "what is meant by the value of
cottons; viz. the quantity of other goods for which a given
quantity of cotton will exchange. We can understand in what
manner cottons may rise or fall in value; viz. when a given
quantity of cottons comes to exchange for a greater or less
quantity of other commodities than before; but what is meant by
the value of the whole produce, or how the whole produce of the
land, or labour of a country, or of the world, can be said to
rise or fall in value, is a problem of which we must leave to
wiser heads than our own to discover the solution. Value is a
relative term: if it is not the, it is nothing: if any one talks
about absolute value, or any other kind of value than
exchangeable value, we know not what he means."
    This is from the Westminster Review. Again: M. Say observes,
that "the valuation of an object is nothing more or less than the
affirmation, that it is in a certain degree of comparative
estimation with some other specified object." I quote the from M.
Say, because it seems to be referred to in the following passage
from an anonymous writer, containing the illustration to which I
before alluded.
    "All value is relative, as M. Say observes; and as we should
more easily bear in mind, if the word 'exchangeable,' or 'in
exchange,' which in this sense it always implies, were always
uttered and expressed. Now, all motion is relative: for by motion
we merely mean, an alteration in the distance or interval between
two thing. But we have been accustomed, to save time, to use the
word motion absolutely. When the distance between a ship and the
whole mass of the country from which it set out, is altered, we
say absolutely, the ship moves; and if we were asked, whether the
country moves too, should generally answer, 'no, it is at rest';
that is, because the ship is small compared to the country. Yet
the same country, perhaps, at the same time, alters its distance
with regard to the heavenly bodies, and is itself said, when
considered in that point of view, to move; the heavenly bodies
being now said to remain at rest: but we still mean, that the
distance between these bodies and our earth, or that particular
part of it, is altered, and that they are more or larger than it.
Yet from this way of speaking, from this habit of saying, for
shortness, that the ship or the earth moved absolutely, in order
to express that a relative motion or change of distance took
place between them and some other things, philosophers long
maintained that motion was inherent, and that if there were but
one thing in the universe, it might yet move: that the earth, for
instance, might be said to move absolutely, though the heavenly
bodies were annihilated; and if they were reminded that motion
was relative, they would then assert, that the earth in such case
would move relatively to the parts of space; that is, by the very
definition of space, relatively to nothing at all. 'There is
nothing,' as Mr. Malthus observes in the Essay on Population
'which has given occasion to such a host of errors as the
confusion between relative and positive.'"
    Now all this appears to me to be a blunder arising from
confounding the evidence of a fact with the fact itself. Value,
it is here said, is no more absolute than motion is absolute. But
I maintain that some motion is absolute. I deny that, by motion,
we merely mean an alteration in the relative position of two
things. I maintain, that it is true what philosophers long ago
maintained, that if there were but one body in the universe, it
might yet move; and that the earth might be said to move
absolutely, though the heavenly bodies were annihilated. The only
difficulty would relate to the evidence of the fact. Yet, under
certain circumstances, the proof would not be desperate. When we
observe the daily change in the relative positions of the sun and
earth, we know at once that one of them has moved. But there
still remains the difficulty of determining which of the two it
is that has moved. We solve this difficulty, and ascertain that
the earth has actually revolved on its axe, by the phenomena of
the centrifugal force; and though, in the absence of the sun and
the heavenly bodies, it would probably never occur to us to
inquire respecting the earth's motion, yet, if we should take it
into our heads to inquire about it, the same resource would
remain to us. Then, as now, we should account for the diminution
of gravity as we pass from the pole to the equator, by the
supposition of a centrifugal force opposed to gravity, and
arising from rotation. We should thus ascertain the absolute
motion of the earth, notwithstanding the absence of any other
body to which it could be referred.
    As it is not true that all motion is relative, so, I must
maintain, it is not true that all value is relative.

NOTES:

1. Wealth of Nations, Book I, Ch. 3, init.

2. I here suppose the watch to stop because the spring is
exhausted, not because the chain is come to an end. And this
would be the case practically if the chain were made long enough.

3. Colonel Torrens adduces the cases of a country in which the
division of labour is unestablished, and of a society having an
interanl community of goods, as examples of the existence of
wealth where value is absent. In strictness, they are cases in
which there is no motive for exchanging; ant to me they appear
equally well fitted to illustrate the separation of the idea of
value as of that of wealth from all reference to exchanges.