1835.] 



FARMERS' REGISTER 



489 



to remount, step by step, the valley of the Rhone 

 in all its extent. Every where the same necessi- 

 ties are presented — every where a burning sun 

 darts its rays — every where a lofty river rises from 

 the summits of our mountains and wastes the soil 

 — and every where the earth implores the succor 

 of the water. In no place has the primitive in- 

 tegrity of the country been preserved: all those 

 tributaries which rush from the mountains roll 

 their waves under the same condilions. Rapid at 

 their sources, they relax in their course, and are 

 joined to the ancient bed of a lake whose dam has 

 been broken down, whence they dash again in 

 <alls and rapids to reach their point of continence 

 with the river. A uniform law rules their desti- 

 nies. The same circumstances are met with every 

 where at the Roubion, the Drome, the Vela; they 

 must be studied and made to concur in the primi- 

 tive reconstruction; this is the great task imposed 

 on modern civilization if it wishes to advance in 

 the progressive steps of comfort. 



To feel all the importance of the works we have 

 intimated, we must be convinced of one great 

 principle: this is, that the productions of the soil 

 are the surest source of the wealth of nations; and 

 that these productions are never more abundant 

 than when the moisture of a country bears a just 

 proportion to its heat, so that moisture by heat is 

 equal to vegetation. These two agents then, and 

 their exact proportions, ought to guide rational 

 agriculture in its operations, and the labors which 

 should go beyond the balance of these forces 

 would be unfruitful toils, and would produce only 

 imperfect results like those on which the energy of 

 man is now vainly lavished. 



Where heat is wanting the task becomes diffi- 

 cult. We are thrown into the system of shelters, 

 hot-beds and green-houses: we become gardeners. 

 But where moisture only is deficient to the soil, an 

 immense career is opened to the cultivator. Water 

 ii there superior to all combinations. This then, 

 is the great principle; with the more energy these 

 two elements united display themselves, the more 

 exact will be the proportion of their forces, and 

 the more completely will the vegetable kingdom 

 be developed. 



Under the tropics, deluged with rain, and burn- 

 ing with the beams of day, plants succeed each 

 other without interruption, and give the maximum 

 of vegetable richness: near the poles, or on the 

 alps, a weak and short turf, with some plants in 

 miniature, mark the last step of the ladder. Be- 

 tween these two extremes, all countries rationally 

 managed, ought to range themselves in the order 

 of their fertility and power, according to their lat- 

 itude; but when the proportion is broken; when 

 one of the conditions of prosperity has failed, it is 

 in vain that the labor of man appeals to a con- 

 demned soil. Heat without moisture, makes a 

 desert — moisture in excess, a marsh: disinherited 

 lands, countries where the human race seeks in 

 vain to establish itself, or where it struggles in- 

 cessantly against nakedness and disease. 



England, Belgium, the north of France, seem 

 placed in that position where the natural equili- 

 brium is established — where the climate dispenses 

 moisture and heat in an exa.it proportion. It is 

 this circumstance which has placed these countries 

 at the head of modern civilization, adevelopement 

 which owes nothing to intelligence — a fortuitous 

 creation, into which man has entered but by the 



Vol. 111—62 



concurrence of his physical strength, but which 

 has, nevertheless, placed those countries in ad- 

 vance of the southern nations, which have not 

 sought to balance their means. But yet a moder- 

 ate heat, a moderate moisture will have unfolded 

 only a middling position, on the day when the 

 south shall assert its advantages; for, where the 

 heat is excessive, where means wisely prepared 

 can proportion, on a large scale, the two principal 

 agents of vegetation, there a superior develope- 

 ment may be expected. 



I have seen vexation painted on the faces of 

 Englishmen on beholding our rich meadows. 

 The islander in his calculating mind, reckoned up 

 in silence these brilliant productions; he made a 

 bitter reflection on his northern temperature; he 

 saw with a practised eye the state of the question; 

 he estimated the power that would one day spring 

 from this disposition of soil and climate. 



But if the north enjoys these advantages natu- 

 rally — if the seasons prepare for it all the amount 

 of wealth of which it can dispose — if it owes to 

 the exact proportion of the constituent elements of 

 production its actual superiority — the south can 

 look for its entire developement only from peculiar 

 labors which the circumstances of its latitude 

 render indispensable. Two of moisture, multiplied 

 by two of heat, make four; but four of moisture, 

 multiplied by four of heat, make sixteen. The 

 first is the north, the other the south, when it shall 

 have accomplished its task. Yet, this south is 

 vast; the line which circumscribes it is not yet 

 well traced out; it oscillates within large limits, 

 and Poland languishes this year, like a desert in 

 Africa: the cattle are dying there on the withered 

 herbage. 



An Englishman once came to consult me about 

 an estate which he had in Cornwall, the warmest 

 exposure in Englam': he wiehed to have grapef. 

 My answer was this: make shelters, blacken the 

 soil and the walls of your terraces, carry out dark 

 colored stones; but if 1 could have said to him, 

 you have a reservoir of heat, open a flood-gate of 

 fire which will temper your frozen climate, with 

 what joy would he have returned to his country! 

 With what zeal would he have set about the 

 work! And we, with our pressing necessities, un- 

 der our brazen sky, on our petrified soil; we, who 

 have only to stoop and take what providence has 

 spread every where, we indolently use come 

 threads of water bequeathed by Italian civiliza- 

 tion. We stupidly try a plough, or an English 

 course of tillage: we waste ourselves in puerile 

 trifles — we exert an immense energy to run like 

 madmen in a ruinous circle of labors and insuffi- 

 cient productions, and yet we know where the 

 treasures are concealed — where are the arms to 

 come out victorious from this strife of slaves. 



In surveying the astonishing changes effected 

 in the value of the soil by a process so simple as 

 irrigation — in seeing this meansso to speak, put 

 within reach of all, and so foolishly despised, we 

 are tempted to demand where is this human intel- 

 lect of which we are so proud — where is this civil- 

 ization of which we always believe to have reach- 

 ed the limit? The intellect is lost in vain combina- 

 tions — it has known neither how to foresee, nor to 

 prepare the future; the civilization must be reor- 

 ganized, for it has been bequeathed to us by bar- 

 barians; it pursues wealth which a false system 

 cannot produce. The labors of which Egypt 



