iJif-^w^iW, ^r^fe^^l ***:^! Muiual Banking. SHOWING THE iRadical iDcficiei)cy OF THE PRESENT CIRCULATINCt MEDIUM AND THE ADVANTAGES OF B^ Free Carfci)cy. BY WILLIAM B. GREENE. PUBLISHED BY THE ANTI-INTEREST LEAGUE. SRLF URL M^ EDITOR'S PREFACE. The payment of interest lias been opposed by great thinkers in all ages. Philosophers have demonstrated that it has no reason for being. Ethical writers have shown that justice does not countenance it. Econ- omists have proved it an unnecessary evil. Among its greatest oppo- nents we find Aristotle, Berkeley and Proudhon. These three mighty thinkers, though living at different times and in different countries, neither using the same methods of research, or making deductions from the same data, yet, from their various standpoints, reached the conclu- sion that interest is neither wise, just or necessary. Not all the argu- ments which any one of these writers employs are used, or would be ac- cepted by either of the others, but to a considerable extent the three reason -identically, so that we find Berkeley, the Christian, agreeing with the Pagan, Aristotle, and confirmed by Proudhon, the Rationalist. Of this trio, however, Proudhon alone pointed out that interest could be made to disappear, not by curtailing individual liberty, but only by ex- tending it. In the main the author of this work follows in Proudhon's path, de- parting from it in some important particulars, but in general only so modifying his master's work in finance, both critical and constructive, as to make it applicable to the monetary system and economic methods prevailing in the United States. His assault is upon the system of state banks that was in existence when he wrote (nearly half a century ago), and the system of mutual banks by which he proposed to replace it is an adjustment to American routine of the essential principles embodied in Proudhon's "Bank of the People." The reader will have little diffi- culty in readjusting the arguments to the new conditions resulting from the displacement of the state batiks by the national banks. Analytical examination of Greene's work will show that it is written in elucidation and illumination of the discovery that, considered as a whole, interest payment, as it exists in modern times, is not wliat it is professed to be, the price paid for the use of borrowed capital, Ijut the premium paid for the insurance of credit. Paying interest is generally accepted as equitable because it is looked upon as a reimbursement of the holder of capital for foregoing the advantage of using his capital himself. Though the so-called borrower really needs capital, and ulti- uKitely gets it as a result of the transaction between himself and the so-called lender, this tiansaction is really not one of borrowing and lending, but simply a temporary exchange of well-known credit for credit less well known, but equally good, and the interest paid is the price of the insurance which the latter credit receives through the ex- change. This, under a system of free competition in banking, would fall to cost, or less than 1 per cent per annum. It is now maintained at varying rates, averaging 5 or 6 per cent by giving a monopoly of this ex- change of credits to banks, which, in addition to the perfectly sufficient insurance afforded by the centralization of their customers' cnMlit, furnish a supposed extra security by pledging, in a prescribed form. 2V^^'^A^^ IV. MUTUAL BxVNKING. capital belonging to themselves, thus enabling these banks to offer a pretext for charging an exorbitant premium, the power to exact which depends in reality solely upon this monopoly. This book aims at the destruction of their monopoly by allowing perfect freedom in banking, giving to all credit instruments the liberty of such circulation as they can command upon their merits, and thereby enabling producers to monetize their credit directly and at cost, instead of through the media- tion of a prescribed and privileged commodity and at an exorbitant price, as well as to increase the circulating power of their credit by methods of organization and insurance similar to that which the author proposes under the name of mutual banking. Tlie long-standing feud between the hard-money advocates and the fiatists has been possible only because each has persisted in looking at only one side of the shield. The former demand a safe currency; the latter desire the benefits of paper money, and each party ignores the other's arguments. This feud the author brings to an end, by proposing a paper currency secured by real property, thus combining the safety of coin with the advantages of paper, and eliminating the evils of botli. Whenever a theory of financial reform is broached that involves tlie issue of paper money, the failures of paper money experiments in the past are brought up as a warning. But the experiments that failed after a fair trial were characterized by one or more of three features which almost inevitably bring disaster, and whicli mutual banking excludes: 1. The issue of money by a government, or under an exclusive priv- ilege granted by one. 2. The legal tender privilege. 3. Redemption on demand. When the power to issue money is confined to privileged banks, the control of the volume of currency and the rate of interest resides in a cabal, which will .sooner or later use its power to drive producers into bankruptcy. When the power to issue money is confined to government itself, losses ultimately ruinous will be suffered through maladministra- tion by incompetence, or by fniud, two factors whose oi)er:it ions, in com- bination or in alternation, constitute the history of almost all govern- mental undertakings. The legal tender privilege adds no virtue to good money, and re- moves the only effective cure for bad money— the right to reject it. To force bad money on people is as surely disastrous as to force bad food on tliem. But to dwell at U-rigtli on this point and on tlie redemption of notes on demand would anticipate the author's argument. Within the last three years all the political parties have sliown ten- dencies toward the ideas advocated in tlie following pages. The Popu- lists, in the "sub-treasury plan," have adopti'd the author's economic theory that money sliould be based on real wealth. The Democrats, in professing to favor the repeal of the 10 per cent tax, incline to his polit- ical theory that tliere should be no restrictions on banks of issue. Mr. Hepburn, who was comptroller of the currency under President Harri- son, is the author of the "Baltimore Plan," which provides for the I.ssuo of money based on the nninipaircd capital of national banks. This plan has been received with niucli favor by many Ki-|)ubllcans. Tin; Popu- lists fall short in not allowing all forms of property to serve as a basis of currenc-y. The Democrats, in not demanding the removal of state re- strictions as well as federal, and in not enforcing their demand when they have the power; and Mr. Hepburn In not placing the unimpaired EDITOR'S PREFACE. V. capital of the bank's customers on an equality witli tliat of tlie bank itself. All these theories are in opposition to the orthodox economy; the first denies that interest cannot be lowered by changes in the currency, the second denies monopoly, and the third denies the necessity of a metallic basis. It is gratifying to observe these tendencies, and in the hope that they may soon become more marked, and to help carry them to tiieir logical conclusion, this work is republished. HENRY COHEN. Denver, Colo., December 1, 1895. MUTUAL BARKIEIG. CHAPTER I. THE USCRY LAWS. All vsury laws appear to be arbitrary and uujust. Rent paid for the use of all lands and houses is freely determined in the contract betv.een the landlord and tenant: freight is settled by the contract between the shipowner, and the person hiring of hjm; profit is determined in the contract of purchase and sale. But, when we come to interest on money, principles suddenly change: here the government intervenes and says to the capitalist, "You shall in no case take more than 6 per cent interest on the amount of prin- cipal you loan. If competition among capitalists brings down the rate of interest to 3, 2, or 1 per cent, you have no remedy; but if. on the other hand, competition among borrowers forces that rate up to 7, 8 or 9 per cent, you are prohibited, under severe penalties, from taking any advantage of the rise." Where is the morality of this restriction? So long as the competition of the market is permitted to operate without legislative interference, the charge for the use of capital in all or any of its forms will be properly determined by the contracts between capitalists and the persons with whom they deal. If the capitalist charges too much, the borrower obtains money at the proper rate from some other person; if the borrower is unreasonable, the capitalist refuses to part with his money. If lands, houses, bridges, canals, boats, wagons, are abundant in pro- portion to the demand for them, the charge for the use of them will be proportionally low; if they are scarce, it will be proportionally high. Upon what ground can you justify the legislature in making laws to restrict a particular class of capitalists, depriving them in- vidiously of the benefit which they would naturally derive from a system of unrestricted competition? If a man owns a sum of money, he must not lend it for more than 6 per cent interest, but he may buy houses, ships, lands, wagons, with it, and these he may freely let out at 50 per cent, if ho can lind any person willing to pay at that rate. Is not the distinction drawn by the legislature arbi- trary, and therefore unjust? A man wishes to obtain certain lands, *Tliis work is a compilation of a series of newspaper articles, hence they are sonu'what disconnected, and an occasional repetition will be found.— Editor. 8 MUTUAL BANKING. wagons, etc., and applies to j'ou for money to buy them with; you can lend the money for 6 per cent interest, and no more; but you can purchase the articles the man desires, and let them out to him at any rate of remuneration upon which you mutually agree. Every sound argument in favor of the intervention of the legisla- ture to fix by law the charge for the use of money bears with equal force in favor of legislative intervention to fix by law the rent of lands and houses, the freight of ships, the hire of horses and car- riages, or the profit on merchandise sold. Legislative interference, fixing the rate of interest by law, appears, therefore, to be both im- politic and unjust. EFFECT OF THE REPEAT. OF THE USURY LAWS. But let logic have her perfect work. Suppose the usury laws were repealed today, would justice prevail tomorrow? By no means. The government says to yon: "I leave you and your neighbor to compete with each other; fight out your battles between yourselves; I will have nothing more to do with your quar- rels." You act upon this hint of the legislature: yon enter into competition with your neighbor. But you find the government has lied to you; you find the legislature has no intention of letting you and your neighbor settle your quarrels between yourselves. Far from it; when the struggle attains its height, behold! the govern- ment quietly steps up to your antagonist, and furnishes him with a bowie knife and a revolver. IIow can you, an unarmed man, con- tend with one to whom the legislature sees fit to furnisli bowie knives and revolvers? In fact, you enter the market with your silver dollar, while another man enters the market with his silver dollar. Your dollar is a plain silver dollar, nothing more or noth- ing less; but his dollar is something very different, for, by permission of the legislature, he can issue bank-l)ills to the amount of ILS.^ and loan money to the extent of double his or your capital. You tel your customer that you can afford to lend your dollar, if he wil return it after a cei'tain time, with four cents for the use of it, but that you cannot h^nd it for anything less. Your neighbor comea between you and your customer, and says to him, "I can do better by you than that. Don't take his dollar on any such terms, for I will lend you a dollar and charge you only three cents for the use of it." Thus he gets your customer away from you; the worst of It is that he still retains another dollar to seduce away the next customer to whom you apply. Nay, more, when he has loaned out his two dollars, he still has 25 cents in specie in his pocket to fall back u[)on and ciirry t(i Texas in case of accident, while you, if you succeed in lending your dollar, must go without money till your debtor pays it back. Yet you and he entered the market, each with a silver flollar; how is it that he thus obtains the advantage over you in every transaction? Therty than the remaining ninety-four. These wealthy persons are connected with each other, for th<^ banks are the organization of their mutual relation, and we think, liuman naturi>, being wiiat it is, that their weight would be brought to bear still more powerfully •This was written before the valuation for Ik.50 was taken. As the the f|uestion Is one (if prinfiplcs ratlier than of figures, we have not con- ceived It necessary to rewrilo tin; paragriipli. THE USURY LAWS. 11 upon the community if the usury laws were repealed. These per- sons might easily obtain complete control over the banks. They might easily so arrange matters as to allow very little money to be loaned by the banks to any but themselves, and thus they would obtain the power over the money market which a monopoly always gives to those who wield It— that is, they would be able to ask and to obtain pretty much what interest they pleased for their money. Then there would be no remedy; the indignation of the community would be of no avail. What good would it do you to be indig- nant? You would go indignantly, and pay exorbitant interest, because you would be hard pushed for money. You would get no money at the bank, because it would be all taken up by the heavy capitalists who control those institutions, or by their friends. These would all get money at 6 per cent interest or less, and they would get from you precisely that interest which your necessities might enable them to exact. The usury laws furnish you with some remedy for these evils; for, under those laws, the power of demanding and obtaining illegal interest will be possible only so long as public opinion sees fit to sanction evasions of the statute. As long as the weight of the system is not intolerable to the com- munity, every thing will move quietly; but as soon as the burden of illegal interest becomes intolerable, the laws will be put in force in obedience to the demand of the public, and the evil will be abated to a certain extent. We confess that it is hard for the borrower to be obliged to pay the broker, to pay also for the wear and tear of the lender's conscience, but we think it would be worse for him if a few lenders should obtain a monopoly of the market. And when the usury laws are repealed, what earthly power will exist capable of preventing them from exercising this monopoly? But liere an in- teresting question presents itself: '"What is the limit of the power of the lender over the borrower? ACTUAL VALUE AND LEGAL VALUE. Let us first explain thedifference between legal value and actual value.* It is evident, that, if every bank-bill in the country should suddenly be destroyed, no actual value would be destroyed, except perhaps to the extent of the value of so much waste paper. The holders of the bills would lose their money, but the banks would gain the same amount, because thoy would no longer be liable to be called upon to reuccMn their bills in specie. Legal value is the legal claim which one man has upon property in the hands of another. No matter how much legal value you destroy, you cannot by that process banish a single dollar's worth of actual value, though you may do a great injustice to individuals. lUit if you destroy the sil- ver dollars in the banks, you indict a great loss on the community for an importation of specie would have to be made to meet the exi J » *The reader is requested to notice this distliictioii between actual and legal value, as we shall have occasion to refer to it again. 12 MUTUAL BANKING. gencies of the currency, and this importation would have to be paid for in goods and commodities which are of actual value. When a ship goes down at sea with her cargo on board, so much actual value is lost. But, on the other hana, when an owner loses his ship in some unfortunate speculation, so that the ownership passes from his hands into the hands of some other person, there may be no loss of actual value, as in the case of shipwreck, for the loss may be a mere change of ownership. The national debt of England exceeds 84.000,000,000. If there were enough gold sovereigns in the world to pay this debt, and these sovereigns should be laid beside each other, touching each other, and in a straight line, the line thus formed would be much more than long enough to furnish a belt of gold extending around the earth. Yet all this debt is mere legal value. If all the obligations by which this debt is held were destroyed, the holders of the debt would become poorer by the amount of legal value destroyed; but those who are bound by the obligations (the tax-paying people of England) would gain to tlie same amount. Destroy all this legal value, and England would be as rich after the destruction as it was before; because no actual value would have been affected. The destruction of the legal value would merely cause a vast change in the ownership of property; making some classes richer, and. of course, others poorer to precisely the same extent; but if you should destroy actual value to. the amount of this debt you would destroy about thirteen times as much actual value (machinery, houses, im- provements, products, etc.) as exist at present in the state of Mas- sachusetts. Tiie sudden destruction of §4,000,000.000 worth of actual value would turn the British Islands into a desert. Many persons are unable to account for the vitality of the English government. The secret is partly as follows: The whole property of England is taxed yearly, say three per cent, to pay the interest of the public debt. The amount raised for this purpose is paid over to those who own the obligations which constitute this legal value. The people of England are thus divided into classes, one class is taxed and pays the interest on tlie debt, the other class receives the interest and lives upon it. The class which receives the interest knows very well that a revolution would be followed by either a repudiation of the national debt, or its immediate payment by means of a ruinous tax on property. This class knows that the nation would bo no poorer if the debt were repudiated or paid. It knows that a large portion of tin; people Inok upon the debt as being the result of aris- tocratic obstinacy in carrying on aristocratic wars for the accom- plishment of aristocratic purposes. When, therefore, the govern- ment wants votes, it looks to this privileged class; wher) it wants orators and writers, it looks to this same class; when it wants spe- cial constables to put down insurrection, it applies to this same class. The people of England pay yearly *l:-'0.(K»0.000 (the interest of the debt) to strengthen the hands of a conservative class, whose THE USURY LAWS. 13 function it is to prevent all change, and therefore all improvement in the condition of the empire. The owners of the public debt, the pensioners, the holders of sinecure offices, the nobility, and the functionaries of the Established Church, are the Spartans who rule over the English Laconians, Helots, and Slaves. When such powerful support is enlisted in favor of an iniquitous social order, there is very little prospect left of any amelioration in the condition of the people. THE MATTER BROUGHT NEARER HOME. But let us bring the matter nearer home. The assessors' valua- tion of the property in the state of INIassachusetts in 1790 was §44,- 024,349. In 1840 it was 8299,880,33a The increase, therefore, during fifty years, was $255,855,989. This is the increase of actual value. If, now, the §44,024,349 which the state possessed in 1790 had been owned by a class, and had been loaned to the community on six mouths' notes, regularly renewed, at six per cent interest per an- num, and the interest, as it fell due, had itself been continually put out at interest on the same terms, that accumulated interest would have amounted in flfty years to 8885,.524,246. This is the increase of the legal value. A simple comparison will show us that the legal value would have increased three times as fast as the actual value has increased. Suppose 5,000 men to own $30,000 each; suppose these men to move, with their families, to some desolate place in the state, where there is no opportunity for the profitable pursuit of the occu- pations either of commerce, agriculture, or manufacturing. The united capital of these 5,000 men would be $150,000,000. Suppose, now, this capital to be safely invested in different parts of the state; suppose these men to be, each of them, heads of families, comprising, on an average, five persons each, this would give us, in all. 25.000 individuals. A servant to each family would give us 5,000 persons more, and these added to the above number would give us 30.000 in all. Suppose, now, that 5,000 mechanics— shoe- makers, bakers, butchers, etc.— should settle with their families in the neighborhood of these capitalists, in order to avail themselves of their custom. Allowing five to a family, as before, we have 25,- 000 to add to the above number. We have, therefore, in all, a city of 55,000 individuals, established in the most desolate part of the state. The people in the rest of the state would have to pay to the capitalists of this city six per cent on $150,000,000 every year; for these capitalists have, by the sui)position, this amount out at inter- est on bond and mortgage, or otherwise. The yearly interest on fl50.tKK).f)(X), at six per cent, is $9.(KX),0()0. These wealthy individuals may do no useful work whatever, and. nevertheless, they levy a tax of $9,000,000 per annum on the industry of the state. The tax would be paid in this way. Some money would be brought to tlie new city, and much produce; the produce would be sold for money to 14 MUTUAL BANKING. the capitalists, and with the money thus obtained, added to the other, the debtors would pay the interest due. The capitalists would have their choice of the best the state produces, and the mechanics of the city, who receive money from the capitalists, the next choice. Now, how would all this be looked upon by the people of the commonwealth? There would be a general rejoicing over the excellent market for produce which had grown up in so unex- pected a place, and the people would suppose the existence of this city of financial horse- leeches to be one of the main pillars of the prosperity of the state. Each of these capitalists would receive yearly S1.800, the inter- est on $30,000, on which to live. Suppose he lives on .?fKX), the half of his income, and lays the other half by to portion off his children as they come to marriageable age, that they may start also with S30,00() capital, even as he did. This SlKX) which he lays by every year would have to be invested. Themen of business, the men of talent, in the state, would see it well invested for him. Some intel- ligent man would discover that a new railroad, canal, or other pub- lic work was needed; he would survey the ground, draw a plan of the work, and make an estimate of the expenses; then ho would go to this new city and interest the capitalists in the matter. The capi- talists would furnish money, the people of the state would furnish labor; the people would dig the dirt, hew the wood, and draw the water. The intelligent man who devised the plan would receive a salary for superintending the work, the people would receive day's wages, and the capitalists would own the whole; for did they not furnish the money that paid for the construction? Taking a scien- tific view of the matter, we may suppose the capitalists not to work at all; for th(! mere fact of their controlling the money would insure all these results. V\'e suppose them, therefore, not to work at ail; we suppose them to receive, each of them. $1,800 a year; we suppose them to live on one-half of this, or SIWO, and to lay up the other half for thi;ir children. We suppose new-married couples to spring up, in their proper season, out of these families, and that these new coup'es start, also, each with a capital of .?3(),(M)(J. We ask now. is there no danger of this new city's absorbing unto itself the greater portion of the wealth of the state? 'J'liere is ns well is proved by the fact that such hanks have liitherto seldom failed to declare good divi- dends. That they may loan their money at one per cent interest per annum is shown by the fact that the old hanks do not pay more than one |)er cent per annum for their exi)enses, including losses by bad debts, and that liif guaranty of the new bills consists In the THE CURRENCY: ITS EVILS— THEIR REMEDY. 27 excellence of the notes furnished by the borrower, so that, if there is anything to be paid for this guaranty, it ought to be paid to the borrower himself, and not to any other person. We will not prolong this exposition, since a multiplicity of words would serve only to darken the subject. We invite the reader to reflect for himself upon the matter and to form his own conclu- sions. AVe repeat that we do not advocate a bank of the nature here described, since we conceive that such an institution would be eminently unsafe and dangerous, and for a hundred reasons among which may be counted the inordinate power that would be con- ferred on the bank's oflficers; but, as we said before, it may serve for illustration. Neither do we propose this plan as a theoretical solution of the difficulties noticed in the preceeding chapters as inseparable from the existing currency. We reserve our own plan, and shall submit it to the reader at the end of the next chapter. CHAPTER IV. MUTUAL BANKING. In the title-page of a book on "Money and Banking,*" pub- lisliod at Cincinnati, tlie name of William Beck appears, not as antlior, but as publisher; yet there is internal evidence in the book sufficient to prove that Mr. Beck is the author. But who was or is Mr. Beck? What were his experience and history? Is he still liv- ing? No one appears to know. He seems to stand like one of Ossian's heroes, surrounded with clouds, solitude and mystery. In the [)ages of Froudhon, socialism appears as an avenging fury, clothed in garments dipped in the sulphur of the bottomless pit and armed for the punishment of imbeciles, liars, scoundrels, cowards and tyrants; in those of Mr. Beck, she presents herself as a con- structive and beneficent genius, the rays of her heavenly glory intercepted by a double veil of simplicity and modesty. Mr. Beck's style has none of the infernal tire and i>rofanity which cause the reader of the "Contradictions Economiques" to shudder; you seek in vain in his sentences for the vigor and intense self-consciousness of Proudhon; yet the thoughts of Proudhon are there. One wovild suppose from the naturalness of his manner, that he was altogether ignorant of the novelty and true magnitude of his ideas. MR. beck's bank. In Mr. Beck's plan for a Mutual Bank — which consists in a simple generalization of the system of credit in account that is well described in the following extract from J. Stuart Mill's "Political Economy" — there isone fault only; buttliat fault is fatal; it is that the people can never be induced to adopt the complicated method of accounts which would be rendered necessary: "A mode of making credit answer the purposes of moncsy, by which, when carried far enough, money may be very completely su- perseded, consists in making payments by checks. The custom of keeping the span; cash reserved for immediate use or against con- tingent demands, in the liands of a banker and making all pay- ments, except small ones, by orders on bankers, is in tliis country spreading to a continually larger portion of tlie |)ublic. If the i)er- son making the payment and the person receiving it kept their money with the same banker, the payment would take place witii- out any intervention of money, by tin; mere transfer of its amount •"Money and R.'inkiiin, or Tlielr Nature jind Effects ("onsidcriHl; To- RCther With a Plan for tlie Universal nifTiisioii of Tlieir Lcj^'itimato Benefits WItlioutTlieir Evils." Hy A Citizen of Oliio. Cincinnati: Pub- lished by William Keck, IKJl).: Ifinio, pp.212. MUTUAL BANKING. 29 in the banker's books from the credit of the payer to that of the re- ceiver. If all persons in London kept their cash at the same bank- er's and made all their payments by means of checks, no money would be required or used for any transactions beginning and ter- minating in London. This ideal limit is almost attained in fact, so far as regards transactions between dealers. It is chiefly in the re- tail transactions between dealers and consumers, and in the pay- ment of wages, that money or bank-notes now pass and then only when the amounts are small. In London, even shop-keepers of any amount of capital, or extent of business, have generally an account with a banker; which, besides the safety and convenience of the practice, is to their advantage in another respect, by giving them an understood claim to have their bills discounted in cases where they could not otherwise expect it. As for the merchants and larger dealers, they habitually make all payments in the course of their business, by checks. They do not, however, all deal with the same banker; and when A gives a check to B, B usually pays it, not into the same, but into another bank. But the convenience of busi- ness has given birth to an arrangement which makes all the bank- ing-houses of the City of London, for certain purposes, virtually one establishment. A banker does not send the checks which are paid into his banking-house to the banks on which they are drawn and demand money for them. There is a building called the Clearing House, to which every city banker sends each afternoon, all the checks on other bankers which he has received during the day; and they are there exchanged for the checks on him which have come into the hands of other bankers, the balances only being paid iu money. By this contrivance, all the business transactions of the City of London during that day amounting often to millions of pounds and a vast amount besides of country transactions, repre- sented by bills which country bankers have drawn upon their Lon- don correspondents, all liquidated by payments not exceeding, on the average, £20(X000."— (Vol. ii., p. 47). "Money," says Mr. Beck, "follows in the track of claim. Its progress is the discharge and satisfaction of claim. The payment of money is effectually the discharge of the debtor; but it is not equally effectual in satisfaction of the creditor. Though it releases the debtor, it still leaves the creditor to seek the real object of his desire. It does not put him in possession of it, but of something which enables him to obtain it. He must exchange this money by purchase for the article he wants before that object is attained. In payment of debts, it passes from claimant to claimant, discharging and paying claims as it goes. Money follows claim; both contin- ually revolving through all classics of society in repeated and per- petual circles, constantly returning to their several stations, drawn thither by operations of industry or of business. "In the possession of money every one has his turn. It comes to him in the shape of payment for his sales or his industry and 30 MUTUAL BANKING. passes from him in the shape of payment or expenditure, again to return at its proper time and on a proper occasion to serve the same purposes as before. "Now, I contend that as the progress of money lies in a circular route, a certain system of account may be made to supply its place, where its track and extent can, in that circle, be included and dis- tinguished. '"By a CIRCLE, I mean that range of society which includes the whole circulating movement of money, with the accompanying causes and effects of its progress; viz, claims, debts and payments; so that, if we wish to trace its path, every point of that path will be contained within it. Such is the great circle of society. This con- tains the whole body of debtors and the whole body of creditors. It contains all the debtors to the creditors and all the creditors to the debtors. All would be included in the jurisdiction of a power that by any possibility could preside over the whole. Creditors are sellers; debtors are buyers. But no man continually sells without sometimes buying, nor does any man continually buy without some- times selling. The creditor who receives money from his debtor, again expends this money upon others, who thereby, in their turns, become creditors and receive their money back again. All these movements are within the range of the one circle of society. Now, it is evident that If an account were kept by a presiding power, the goods which any person receives, being of equal value, would pay for those which he had previously delivered; would replace him in his original assests ana cancel the obligation to him without the aid of money. Hence, after the whole process, it would seem that the intermediate passage and return of money were superfluous. If the dealings are not directly backward and forward— that is, between one creditor and his debtor and back again from the same debtor to the same creditor— the effect will be the same; for as this whole circle includes every creditor, every debtor and in fact every individual in that society, so it contains every account to which the claims of any creditor would apply, and every account to which the same creditor would be indebted. The agency of the presiding power would render it pro forma, the representative to every cred- itor of his individual debtor; and to every debtor, the representa- tive of his individual creditor. It would form a common center for all claims by every creditor on his debtor. It would form the chan- nel for the discharge of his debts and tlitoin of the paitieular trade and place. If a num has sold gooils to another on six month's credit, he may draw a bill upon his debtor, payable in six months, get his bill discounted at the bank and thus qualify 32 MUTUAL BANKING. himself to purchase such things as he may require in his .usiness, without .vaiting for the six months to expire. But bills of exchange do more than this. They not only obviate, upon occasions, the necessity for ready money; they not only enable a man to com- mand ready money before the debts due to him arrive at maturity; they often actually take place and perform the functions of mcjney itself. J. Stuart Mill, quoting from Mr, Thornton, says: "Let us imagine a farmer in the country to discharge a debt of £10 to his neighboring grocer, by giving him a bill for that sum, drawn on his corn-factor in London, for grain sold in the metropolis; and the grocer to transmit the bill— ho having previously indorsed it— to a neighboring sugar-baker in discharge of a like debt; and the sugar- baker to send it when again indorsed, to a West India merchant in an outport; and the West India merchant to deliver it to his coun- try banker, who also indorses it and sends it into further circula- lalion. The bill will in this case have effected live payments, ex- actly as if it were a £10 note payable to bearer on demand. A mul- titude of bills pass between trader and trader in the country in the manner which has been described, and they evidently form in the strictest sense, a part of the circulating medium of the kingdom." Mr. Mill adds: "Many bills, both domestic and foreign, are at last |)resented for payment quite covered with indorsements, each of which represents either a fresh discounting, or a pecuniary transaction in which the bill has performed the functions of money. Up to twenty years ago, the circulating medium of Lancashire for sums above £5 was ahnost entirely composed of such bills." In our exiilanation of the system of banking which results from a generalization of the bill of exchange, we will let the master speak for himself: proudhon's i?.\nk. "We must destroy the royalty of trold: we must republicanize specie, by making every product of labor ready money. "Let no one be frightened beforehand. I by no means propose to reproduce under a rrjuvenatcd form, the old ideas of paper money, money of paper, assignats, bank-bills, etc., etc.; for all these palliatives have been known, tried and rejected long ago. These representations on pafx-r, by which men liave believed themselves able to replac(! the absent god, are, all of them, nothing other than a homage paid to metal — an adoration of metal, which has been always present to men's minds, and which has always been taken by them as the measure or evaluator of products. "Everybody knows what a bill of exchange is. The cieditor r«:-.'iuests the debtor to pay to him, or t(» his order, at such a place, at such a date, such a sum of money. "The promissory note is the bill of exchange inverted; the debtor |)romises the creditor that he will pay, etc. " 'The bill of exciiange,' says the statute, 'is drawn from on<; place on another. It is dated. It announces the sum to be paid; MUTUAL BANKING. 33 the time and place where the payment is to be made; the value to be furnished in specie, in merchandise, in account, or in other form. It is to the order of a third person, or to the order of the drawer himself. If it is by 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, etc., it must be so stated.' "The bill of exchange supposes, therefore, exchange, provision and acceptance; that is to say, a value created and delivered by the drawer; the existence, in the hands of the drawee, of the funds destined to acquit the bill, and the promise on the part of the drawee, to acquit it. When the bill of exchange is clothed with all these formalities; when it represents a real service actually ren- dered, or merchandise delivered; when the drawer and drawee are known and solvent; when, in a word, it is clothed with all the conditions necessary to guarantee the accomplishment of the obli- gation, the bill of exchange is considered good; it circulates in the mercantile world like bank-paper, like specie. No one objects to receiving it under pretext that a bill of exchange is nothing but a piece of paper. Only — since, at the end of its circulation, the bill of exchange, before being destroyed, must be exchanged for specie- it pays to specie a sort of seigniorial duty, called discount. "That which, in general, renders the bill of exchange insecure, is precisely this promise of final conversion into specie; and thus the idea of metal, like a corrupting royalty, infects even the bill of exchange and takes from it its certainty. "Now, the whole problem of the circulation consists in general- izing the bill of exchange; that is to say, in making of it an anony- mous title, exchangeable forever, and redeemable at sight, but only in merchandise and services. "Or, to speak a language more comprehensible to financial adepts, the problem of the circulation consists in basing bank- paper, not upon specie, nor bullion, nor immovable property, which can never produce anything but a miserable oscillation between usury and bankruptcy, between the five-franc piece and the as- signat; but by basing it upon phoducts. "I conceive this generalization of the bill of exchange as fol- lows: "A hundred thousand manufacturers, miners, merchants, com- missioners, public carriers, agriculturists, etc., throughout BYance, unite with each other in obedience to the summons of the the gov- ernment and by simple authentic declaration, inserted in the 'Mon- iteur' newspaper, bind themselves respectively and reciprocally to adhere to the statutes of the Bank of Exchange; which shall bi> no other than the Bank of France itself, with its constitution and attributes modified on the following basis: "1st. The Bank of France, become the Bank of Exchange, is an institution of public interest. It is placed under the guardian- ship of the state and is directed by delegates from all the branches of industry. "2nd. Every subscriber shall have an account open at the 34 MUTUAL BANKING. Bank of Exchange for the discount of his business paper; and he shall be served to the same extent as he would have been under the conditions of discount in specie; that is, in the known measure of his faculties, the business he does, the positive guarantees he offers, the real credit he might reasonably have enjoyed under the old system. "3rd. The discount of ordinary commercial paper, whether of drafts, orders, bills of exchange, notes on demand, will be made in bills of the Bank of Exchange, of denominations of 3.5, .50, 100 and 1.000 francs. "Specie will be used in making change only. "4th. The rate of discount will be fixed at per cent, com- mission included, no matter how long the paper has to run. With the Bank of Exchange all business will be finished on the spot. '•.5th. Every subscriber binds himself to receive in all payments, from whomsoever it inay be and at par, the paper of the Bank of Exchange. "6th. Provisionally and by way of transition, gold and silver coin will be received in exchange for the paper of the bank, and at their nominal value. "Is this a paper currency? "I answer unhesitatingly, Nol It is neither paper-money, nor money of paper; it is neither government checks, nor even bank- bills; it is not of the nature of anything that has been hitherto in- vented to make up for the scarcity of the specie. It is the bill of exchange generalized. "The essence of the bill of exchange is constituted — first, by its being drawn from one place on another; second, by its representing a real value equal to the sum it expresses; third, by the promise or obligation on the part of the drawee to pay it when it falls due. "In three words, that which constitutes the bill of exchange is exchange, provision, acceptance. "As to the date of issue, or of falling due; as to the designation of the places, persons, object — these are particular circumstances which do not relate to the essence of the title, but which serve merely to give it a determinate personal and local actuality. "Now, what is the bank-paper I jjropose to create? "It is the bi'l of exchange stripped of the circumstantial quali- ties of date, place, person, object, term of maturity, and reduced to its essential qualities— exchange, acceptance, provision. "It is, to explain myself still more clearly, tlic bill of exchange, payable at sight and forever, drawn from every place in France upon every other place in France, made, by 1(K),(XK) drawers, guaran- le(;(l l»y KMMKK) indorsc-rs, accepti'd by the ](M),0(K) siibscribers drawn upon; having provision made for its payment in the 100.(K)0 work- shops, manufactories, stores, etc., of the same 100,000 subscribers. "I say, therefore, that such a tith^ unites evc^ry condition of solidity and .security and that it is susceptible of no depreciation. MUTUAL BANK INC. 35 "It is eminently solid: since on one side it represents the ordi- nary, local, personal, actual paper of exchange, determined in its object and representing a real value, a service renderedj merchan- dise delivered, or whose delivery is guaranteed and certain; while on the other side it is guaranteed by the contract, in so/ido, of 100,- 000 exchangers, who, by their mass, their independence, and at the same time by the unity and connection of their operations, offer millions of millions of probability of payment against one of non- payment. Gold is a thousand times less sure. "In fact, if in the ordinary conditions of commerce, we may say that a bill of exchange made by a known merchant offers two chances of payment against one of non-payment, the same bill of exchange, if it is indorsed by another known merchant, will offer four chances of payment against one. If it is indorsed by three, four or a greater number of merchants equally well known, there will be eight, sixteen, thirty-two, etc., to wager against one that three, four, five, etc., known merchants will not fail at the same time, since the favorable chances increase in geometrical propor- tion with the number of indorsers. What, then, ought to be the certainty of a bill of exchange made by lOO.OOa well-known sub- scribers, who are all of them interested to promote its circulation? "I add that this title is susceptible of no depreciation. The reason for this is found, first, in the perfect solidity of a mass of 100,000 signers. But there exists another reason, more direct, and if possible, more reassuring; it is that the issues of the new paper can never be exaggerated like those of ordinary bank-bills, treasury notes, paper money, assignats, etc., for the issues take place against good, commercial paper only, and in the regular, necessarily lim- ited, measured and proportionate process of discounting. "In the combination I propose, the paper (at once sign of credit and instrument of circulation) grows out of the best business- paper, which itself represents products delivered, and by no means merchandise unsold. This paper, I affirm, can never be refused in payment, since it is subscribed beforehand by the mass of pro- ducers. "This paper offers so much the more security and convenience, inasmuch as it may be tried on a small scale, and with as few per- sons as you see fit, and that without the least violence, without the least peril. "Suppose the IJank of Exchange to start at first on a basis of 1,000 subscribers instead of 100,000; the amount of paper it would issue would be in proportion to the business of these 1.000 subscrib- ers, and negotiable only among themselves. Afterwards, according as other persons should adhere to the bank, the proportion of bills would be as 5.000, 10,(XX), 50,000, etc., and their circulation would grow with the number of subscribers, as a money peculiar to them. Then, when the whole of France should have adhered to the stat- 36 MUTUAL BANKING. utes of the new bank, the issue of paper would be equal, at every instant, to the the totality of circulating values. "I do not conceive it necessary to insist longer. Men acquainted with banking will understand me without difficulty, and will sup- ply from their own minds the details of execution. "As for the vulgar, who judge of all things by the material aspect, nothing for them is so similar to an assignat as a bill of the Bank of Exchange. For the economist, who searches the idea to the bot- tom, nothing is so different. They are two titles, which, under the same matter, the same form, the same denomination, are diamet- rically opposed to each other." — [Organization du Credit de la Circulation — Banque d'Exchange; p. 23). REMARKS. We have several objections to Proudhon's bank. We propose them with diffidence, as Proudhon has undoubtedly prepared an adequate answer to them. Nevertheless, as he has not given that answer in his writings, we have a right to state them. They are as follows: 1st. We ask M. Proudhon how he would punish arbitrary con- duct, partiality, favoritism and self-sufficiency, on the part of the officers of his bank. When we go to the mutual bank to borrow money, we desire to be treated politely and to receive fair play. 2nd. We ask him how he would prevent intriguing members from caballing to obtain control of the direction; or how he would prevent such intrigues from bringing forth evil results. 3rd. We ask him how he would prevent the same property, through the operation of successive sales, from being represented, at the same time, by several different bills of exchange, all of which are liable to be presented for discount. For example: Sup- pose Peter sells John $100 worth of pork at six months credit and takes a bill at six months for it; and that John sells afterward this same pork to James at a like credit, taking a like bill; whatshall prevent both Peter and John from presenting their bills for dis- count? Both bills are real bills, resulting from sales actually effected. NcMthor of them can be characterized as fictitious paper, and meanwhile, only one represents actual property. The same barrel of pork, by being sold and resold at credit one hundred times will give rise to one hundred real bills. lUit is it not absurd to say that the bank is safe in discounting all this paper, for the rea- son that it is entinily composed of real bills, when wv. know only one of them represents the barrel of pork? It follows, therefore, that not every real bill is adequately guaranteed. How, then, can Proudhon be certain that his issues of l)ank-paper "will never be exaggerated?" 4th. We ask him how he would caus<^ his bank to operate to the decentralization of the money power. For ourselves, we submit (and for the reason that it is necessary to have some systfm that obviates the foregoing objections) that MUTUAL BA:NK1IsG. 37 the issues of mutual money ought— at least, here in New England, the theory of Froudhon to the contrary notwithstanding— to be re- lated to a basis of determinate actual property. Our plan for a Mutual Bank is as follows: 1st. Any person, by pledging actual property to tlie bank, may become a member of the INIutual Banking Company. 2nd. Any member may borrow the paper money of the bank on his own note running to maturity (without indorsement) to an amount not to exceed one-half of the value of the property by him- self pledged. 3rd. Each member binds himself in legal form, on admission, to receive in all payments, from whomsoever it may be and at par, the paper of the Mutual Bank. 4th. The rate of interest at which said money shall be loaned shall be determined by, and shall if possible, just meet and cover, the bare expenses of the institution. As for interest in the com- mon acceptation of the word, its rate shall be at the Mutual Bank precisely 0. 5tii. No money shall be loaned to any persons who are not members of the company; that is, no money shall be loaned, ex- cept on a pledge of actual property. 6th. Any member, by paying his debts to the bank, may have his property released from pledge, and be himself released from all obligations to the bank, or to the holders of the bank's money, as such. 7th. As for the bank, it shall never redeem any of its notes in specie; nor shall it ever receive specie in payments, or the bills of specie-paying banks, except at a discount of one-half of one per cent. Ships and houses that are insured, machinery, in short, anything that may be sold under the hammer, may be made a basis for the issue of mutual money. Mutual Banking opens the way to no monopoly; for it simply elevates every species of property to the rank which has hitherto been exclusively occupied by gold and sil- ver. It may be well (we think it will be necessary) to begin with real estate; we do not say it would be well to end there! CHAPTER V. PETITION FOR A GENERAL MUTUAL BANKING LAW. To the Honorable the Senate and House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. This prayer of your petitioners humbly showeth, that the farmers, mechanics and other actual producers, whose names are hereunto subscribed, believe the present organization of the cur- rency to be unjust and oppressive. They, therefore, respectfully request your honorable body to republicanize gold, silver and bank- bills, by the enactment of a General Mutual Banking Laav. A law, embracing the following provisions, would be eminently satisfactory to your petitioners: 1. The inhabitants or any portion of the inhabitants, of any town or city in the Commonwealth may organize themselves into a Mutual Banking Company. 2. Any person may become a member of the Mutual Banking Company of any particular town, by pledging real estate situ- ated in that town, or in its immediate neighborhood, to the Mutual Bank of that town. 3. The Mutual Bank of any town may issue paper-money to circulate as currency among persons willing to employ it as such. 4. Every member of a Mutual Banking Company shall bind himself, and be bound, in due legal form, on admission, to receive in payment of debts, at par, and from all persons, the bills issued, and to be issued, by the particular Mutual Bank to which he may belong; but no member shall be obliged to receive, or have in pos- session, bills of said Mutual Bank to an amount exceeding the wliole value of the proi)erty pledged by him. f>. Any member may borrow the paper money of the bank to which he belongs, on his own note running to maturity (without indorsement), to an amount not to exceed one-half of the value of the property pledged by him. G. The rate of interest at which said money shall be loaned by the bank, shall be determiuf^d by, and shall, if possible, just meet and cover the bare expenses of the institution. 7. No money shall be loaned by the bank to persons who do not become members of the company by pledging real estate to the bank. 8. Any member, by paying his debts to the Mutual Bank to which he belongs, may have his property released from pledge, and bf! liimself released from all obligations to said Mutual IJank, and to h(jl(l(;rs of tli(! Mutual-Bank money, as such. PETITION FOR A MUTUAL BANKING LAW. 39 9. No Mutual Bank shall receive other than Mutual-Bank paper-money in payment of debts due to it, except at a discount of one-half of one per cent. 10. The Mutual Banks of the several counties in the Common- wealth shall be authorized to enter into such arrangements with each other as shall enable them to receive each other's bills in pay- ments of debts; so that, for example, a Fitchburg man may pay his debts to the Barre Bank in Oxford money, or in such other Worces- ter-county money as may suit his convenience. REMARKS. Let A, B, C, D and E take a mortgage upon real estate owned by F, to cover a value of, say,?600; in consideration of which mortgage, let A, B, C, D and E, who are timber-dealers, hardware merchants, carpenters, masons, painters, etc., furnish planks, boards, shingles, nails, hinges, locks, carpenters' and masons' labor, etc., to the value of $(500, to F, who is building a house. Let the mortgage have six months to run. A, B, C, D and E are perfectly safe; for either F pays at the end of the six months, and then the whole transaction is closed; or F does not pay, and then they sell the real estate mortgaged by him, which is worth much more than ?600, and pay themselves, thus closing the transaction. This transaction, generalized, gives the Mutual Bank, and furnishes a currency based upon products and services, entirely independent of hard money, or paper based on hard money. B^or A, B, C, D and E may give to F, instead of boards, nails, shingles, etc., 600 certificates of his mortgage, said certificates being receivable by them for services and products, each one in lieu of a silver dollar; each certificate being, therefore, in all purchases from them, equivalent to a one- dollar bill. If A, B, C, D and E agree to receive these certificates, each one in lieu of a silver dollar, for the redemption of the mort- gage; if, moreover, they agree to receive them, ca.ch one in lieu of a silver dollar, from whomsoever it may be, in all payments— then A, B, C, D and E are a banking company that issues mutual money; and as they never issue money except upon a mortgage of property of double the value of the money issued, their transactions are always absolutely safe, and their money is always absolutely good. Any community that embraces members of all trades and pro- fessions may totally abolish the use of hard money, and of paper based on hard money, substituting mutual money in its stead; and they may always substitute mutual money in the stead of hard money and bank bills, to the precise extent of their ability to live within themselves on their own resources. THE RATE OF INTEREST. As interest-money charged by Mutual Banks covers nothing but the expenses of the institutions, such banks may lend money, at A R.VTE OF I.KSS THAN ONE PER CENT PER ANNU.M, to persons offer- ng good security. 40 MUTUAL BANKING. ADVANTAGES OF MUTUAL BANKING. It may be asked "What advantage does mutual banking hold out to individuals who have no real estate to offer in pledge?" We answer this question by another: What advantage do the existing banks hold out to individuals who desire to borrow, but are unable to offer adequate security? If we knew of a plan whereby, through an act of the legislature, every member of the community might be made rich, we would destroy this petition, and draw up another embodying that plan. Meanwhile, we affirm that no system was ever devised so beneficial to the poor as the system of mutual bank- ing; for if a man having nothing to offer in pledge, has a friend who is a farmer, or other holder of real estate, and that friend is willing to furnish security for him, he can borrow money at the mutual bank at a rate of 1 per cent interest a year; whereas, if he should borrow at the existing banks, he would be obliged to pay 6 per cent. Again, as mutual banking will make money exceedingly plenty, it will cause a rise in the rate of wages, thus benefiting the man who has no property but his bodily strength; and it will not cause a proportionate increase in the price of the necessaries of life: for the price of provisions, etc., depends on supply and demand; and mutual banking operates, not directly on supply and demand, but to the diminution of the rate of interest on the medium of exchange. Mutual banking will indeed cause a certain rise in the price of com- modities by creating a new demand; for, with mutual money, the poorer classes will be able to purchase articles which, under the present currency, they never dream of buying. But certain mechanics and farmers say, "We borrow no money, and therefore pay no interest. How, then, does this thing concern us?" Hearken, my friends I let us reason together. I have an im- pression on my mind that it is precisely the class who have no deal- ings with the banks, and derive no advantages from them, that ultimately pay all the interest money that is paid. When a manu- facturer borrows money to carry on his business, he counts the in- terest he pays as a partof his expenses, and therefore adds the amount of interest to the price of his goods. The consumer who buys the goods pays the interest when he pays for the goods; and who is the consumer, if not the mechanic and the farmer? If a manufacturer could borrow money at 1 percent, he could afford to undersell all his competitors, to the manifest advantageof the farmer and mechanic. The manufacturer would neither gain nor lose; the farmer and mechanic, who have no dealings with the bank, would gain the whole difference; and the bank— which, were it not for the compe- tition of the Mutual Itank, would have loaned the money at (j per cent interest— would lose the whole difference. It is the indirect relation of the bank to the farmer and mechanic, and not its direct relation to the manufactunir and merchant, that enables it to nuike money. When foreign competition prevents tlie manufacturer from keeping up the price of his goods, the farmer and mechanic, who PETITION FOR A MUTUAL BANKING LAW. 41 are consumers, do not pay the interest-money: but still the interest is paid by the class that derive no benefit from the banks; for, in this case, the manufacturer will save himself from loss by cutting down the wages of his workmen who are producers. Wages fluc- tuate, rising and falling (other things being equal) as the rate of interest fails or rises. If the farmer, mechanic and operative are not interested in the matter of banking, we know not who is. MUTUAL MONEY IS GENERALLY COMPETENT TO FORCE ITS OWN WAY INTO GENERAL CIRCULATION. Let us suppose the Mutual Bank to be at first established in a single town, and its circulation to be confined within the limits of that town. The trader who sells the produce of that town in the city and buys there such commodities— tea, coffee, sugar, calico, etc.— as are required for the consumption of his neighbors, sells and buys on credit. He does not pay the farmer cash for his produce; he does not sell that produce for cash in the city; neither does he buy his groceries, etc., for cash from the city merchant: but he buys of the farmer at, say, eight months' credit; and he sells to the city merchant at, say, six months' credit. He finds, more- over, as a general thing, that the exports of the town which pass through his hands very nearly balance the imports that he brings into the town for sale; so that, in reality, the exports — butter, cheese, pork, beef, eggs, etc.— pay for the imports— coffee, sugar, etc. And how. indeed, could it be otherwise? It is not to be sup- posed that the town has silver mines and a mint; and, if the people pay for their imports in money, it will be because they have be- come enabled so to do by selling their produce for money. It fol- lows, therefore, that the people in a country town do not make ihe money, whereby they pay for store-goods, off each other, but that they make it by selling their produce out of the town. There are, therefore, two kinds of trading going on at the same time in the town— one trade of the inhabitants with each other; and another of the inhabitants, through the store, with individuals living out of town. And these two kinds of trade are perfectly distinct from each other. The mutual money would serve all the purposes of the internal trade; leaving the hard money, and paper based on hard money, to serve exclusively for the purposes of trade that reaches out of the town. The mutual money will not prevent a single dol- lar of hard money, or paper based on hard money, from coming into the town; for such hard money comes into the town, not in consequence of exchanges made between the inhabitants them- selves, but in consequence of produce sold abroad.* So long as produce is sold out of the town, so long will the inhabitants be able to buy commodities that are produced out of the town; and they *Tbese remarks may be generalized, and applied to the commerce which is carried on between nations. 42 MUTUAL BANKING. will be able to make purchases to the precise extent that they are able to make sales. The mutual money will therefore prove to them an unmixed benefit; it will be entirely independent of the old money, and will open to them a new trade entirely independent of the old trade. So far as it can be made available, it will unques- tionably prove itself to be a good thing; and, where it cannot be made available, the inhabitants will only be deprived of a benefit that they could not have enjoyed — mutual money or no mutual money. Besides, the comparative cost of the mutual money is al- most nothing; for it can be issued to any amount on good security, at the mere cost of printing, and the expense of looking after the safety of the mortgages. If the mutual money should happen, at any particular time, not to be issued to any great extent, it would not be as though an immense mass of value was remaining idle; for interest on the mutual money is precisely 0. The mutual money is not itself actual value, but a mere medium for the exchange of act- ual values— a mere medium for the facilitation of barter. We have remarked, that when the trader, who does the out-of- town business of the inhabitants, buys coffee, sugar, etc., he does not pay cash for them, but buys them at, say, six months' credit. Now, the existing system of credit causes, by its very nature, peri- odical crises in commercial aflfairs. When one of these crises oc- curs, the trader will say to the city merchant, "1 owe you so much for groceries; but 1 have no money, for times are hard: I will give you, however, my note for the debt. Now, we leave it to the reader, would not the city merchant prefer to take the mutual money of the town to which the trader belongs, money that holds real estate and produce in that town, rather than the private note of a trader who may fail within a week? If, under the existing system, all transactions were settled on the spot in cash, things might be different; but as almost all trans- actions are conducted on the credit system, and as the credit system necessarily involves periodical commercial crises, the mutual money will find very little diihculty in ultimately forcing itself into general circulation. The Mutual Bank is like the stone cut from the mountain without hands, for let it be once established in a sin- gle village, no mattc^r how obscure, and it will grow till it covers the whole earth. Nevertheless, it would be better to obviate all difTiculty by starting the Mutual Bank on a sufficiently extensive scale at the very beginning. TIIK MKA8URE OF VALUE. The bill of a Mutual Hank is not a standard of value, since it is itself measured and determined in value by the silver dollar. If the dollar rises in value, the bill of the Mutual Bank rises also, since it is receivable in lieu of a silver dollar. The bills of a Mutual Bank are not standards of value, but mere instruments of exchange; and as the value of mutual money is determined, not by the demand and supply of mutual money, but by the demand and supply of the PETITION FOR A MUTUAL BANKIXG LAW. 43 precious metals, the Mutual Bank may issue bills to any extent, and those bills will not be liable to any depreciation from excess of supply. And, for like reasons, mutual money will not be liable to rise in value if it happens at any time to be scarce in the market. The issues of mutual money are therefore susceptible of any contrac- tion or expansion which may be necessary to meet the wants of the community, and such contraction or expansion cannot by any pos- sibility be attended with any evil consequence whatever: for the silver dollar, which is the standard of value, will remain through- out at the natural valuation determined for it by the general de- mand and supply of gold and silver throughout the whole world. The bills of Mutual Banks act merely as a medium of ex- change: they do not and cannot pretend to be measures or stand- ards of value. The medium of exchange is one thing; the measure of value is another; and the standard of value still an- other. Tlie dollar is the measure of value. Silver and gold, at a certain degree of fineness, are the standard of value. The bill of a Mutual Bank is a bill of exchange, drawn by all the members of the mutual banking company upon themselves, indorsed and accepted by themselves, payable at sight, but only in services and products. The members of the company bind themselves to receive their own money at par; that is, in lieu of as many silver dollars as are de- noted by the denomination on the face of the bill. Services and products are to be estimated in dollars, and exchanged for each other without the intervention of specie.* Mutual money, which neither is nor can be merchandise, es- capes the law of supply and demand, which is applicable to mer- chandise only. THE REGULATOR OF VALUE. The utility of an article is one thing; its exchangeable value is another; and the cost of its production is still another. But the amount of labor expended in production, though not the measure, is, in the long run, the regulator of value; for every new invention wBich abridges labor, and enables an individual or company to offer an increased supply of valuable articles in the market brings with it an increase of competition. For, supposing that one dollar constitutes a fair day's wages, and that one man by a certain pro- cess can produce an article valued in the market at one *"I now undertake to afiirm ijositively, and without the least fear that I can be answered, what heretofore I have but suggested— that a paper Issued by the government, with the simple promise to receive it in all Its dues, leaving its creditors to take it or gold and silver at their option, would, to the extent that it would circulate, form a perfect paper-circulation, which could not bo abused by the government; that it would be as steady and uniform in value as the metals themselves; and that, if by possibility, it should depreciate, the loss would fall, not on the people, but on the government Itself," etc.— .1. C. Calhodn: Speech in reply to Mr. Webster on the Sub-Treasury Bill, March 22, 1838. 44 MUTUAL BANKING. dollar in half a day's labor, other men will take ad- vantage of the same process, and undersell the first man, in order to get possession of the market. Thus, by the effect of competition, the price of the article will probably be ultimately reduced to fifty cents. Labor is the true regulator of value; for every laboring man who comes into competition with others in- creases the supply of the products of labor, and thus diminishes their value; while at the same time, and because he is a living man, he increases the demand for those products to precisely the same extent, and thus restores the balance: for the laborer must be housed, clothed and subsisted by the products of his labor. Thus the addition of a laboring man, or of any number of laboring men, to the mass of producers, ought to have no efiect either upon the price of labor, or upon that of commodities; since, if the laborer by his presence increases the productive power, he at the same lime increases the demand for consumption. We know that things do not always fall out thus in practice; but the irregularity is ex- plained by the fact that the laborer, who ought himself to have the produce of his labor, or its equivalent in exchange, has, by the present false organization of credit, his wages abstracted from him. Want and over-production arise sometimes from mistakes in the di- rection of labor, but generally from that false organization of credit which now obtains throughout the civilized world. There is a market price of commodities, depending on supply and demand, and a natural price, depending on the cost of production; and the market price is in a state of continual oscillation, being sometimes above, and sometimes below, the natural price: but in the long run, the average of a series of years being taken, it coincides with it. It is probable that, under a true organization of credit, the natural price and market price would coincide at every moment.* Under the present system, there are no articles whose market and natural prices coincide so nearly and so constantly as those of the precious metals; and it is for this reason that they have been adopted by the various nations as standards of value. When Adam .Smith and Malthust say that labor is a measure of *The theory tlial the laborer should receive sufficient wages to buy back liis product, and thus prevent over-production, was discovered ;il- most .simultaneously by a number of writers about fifty years ago. The value of this discovery to economics is as great as Newton's was to physics, or Darwin's to biology.— Editor. tMalthus says (we quote the sub.stance, and very possibly the exact words, though we have not tlio book by us): "If a man Is born into a world already occupied, and his family Is not able to support him, or if society has no demand for his lubor, t hat man has no right to claim uny nourishment whatever; he Is really one too miiny on the earth. At the; great banquet of nature there Is no plate laid for him. Nature com- mands him to take liimself away; and she will by no means delay In putting her own order into execution." PETITION FOR A MUTUAL BANKING LAW. 45 value, they speak, not of the labor which an article cost, or ought to have cost, in its production, but of the quantity of labor which the article may purchase or command. It is very well, for those who mistake the philosophy of speculation on human misfortune and necessities for social science, to assume for measure of value the amount of labor which different commodities can command. Con- sidered from this point of view, the price of commodities is regu- lated, not in the labor expended in their production, but by the distress and want of the laboring class. There is no device of the political economists so infernal as the one which ranks labor as a commodity, varying in value according to supply and demand. Neither is there any device so unphilosophical; since the ratio of the supply of labor to the demand for it is unvarying: for every producer is also a consumer, and rightfully, to the precise extent of the amount of his products; the laborer who saves up his wages being, so far as society is concerned, and in the long run, a consum- er of those wages. The supply and demand for labor is virtually unvarying; and its price ought, therefore, to be constant. Labor is said to be value, not because it is itself merchandise, but because of the values it contains, as it were, in solution, or, to use the.cor- rect metaphysical term, in potentia. The value of labor is a figurative expression, and a fiction, like the productiveness of cap- ital. Labor, like liberty, love, ambition, genius, is something vague and indeterminate in its nature, and is rendered definite by its object only; misdirected labor produces no value. Labor is said to be valuable, not because it can itself be valued, but because tlie products of labor may be truly valuable. When we say "John's labor is worth a dollar a day," it is as though we said, "The daily product of John's labor is worth a dollar." To speak of labor as merchandise is treason; for such speech denies the true dignity of man, who is the king of the earth. Where labor is merchandise in fact (not by a mere inaccuracy of language) there man is merchan- dise also, whether it be in England or South Carolina. THE WAY IN WHICH THE AFFAIRS OF THE MUTUAL BANK MAY BE CLOSED. When the company votes to issue no more money, the bills it has already issued will bo returned upon it; for, since the bills were issued in discounting notes running to maturity, the debtors of the bank, as their notes mature, will pay in the bills they have received. When the debtors have paid their debts to t^ie bank, then the bills are all in, every debtor has discharged his mortgage, and the affairs of the bank are closed. If any debtor fails to pay. the bank sells the property mortgaged, and pays itself. Tiie bank lends at a rate of interest that covers its bare expenses: it makes, therefore, no profits, and, consequently, eau declare no dividends. It is by its nature incapable of owing anything: it lias, therefore. no debts to settle. When the bank's debtors have paid their delits 46 MUTUAL BANKING. to the bank, then nobody owes anything to the bank, and the bank owes nothing to anybody. In case some of the debtors of the bank redeem their notes, not in bills of the Mutual Bank, but in bills of specie-paying banks, then those bills of specie-paying banks will be at once presented for redemption at the institutions that issued them; and an amount of specie will come into the hands of the Mutual Bank, precisely equal to the amount of its own bills still in circulation; for since the Mutual Bank never issues money, except in discounting notes running to maturity, the notes of the debtors to the bank precisely cover the amount of the bank's money in circulation. When this specie comes into the hands of the bank, it deposits it at once in some other institution; which institution assumes the responsibility of redeeming at sight such of the bills of the closed bank as may be at any time thereafter presented for redemption. And such institu- tion will gladly assume this responsibility, since it is probable that many of the bills will be lost or destroyed, and therefore never pre- sented for redemption; and such loss or destruction will be a clear gain to the institution assuming the responsibility, since it has spe- cie turned over to it for the redemption of every one of the bills that remains out. Finally: let us conceive, for a moment, of the manifold imper- fections of the existing system of banking. In Massachusetts, the banks had out, in the year 1849, nine and one-half dollars of paper* for every one dollar of specie in their vaults wherewith to redeem them. Can any thing be more absurd than the solemn promise made by the banks to redeem nine and one-half paper-dollars with one dollar in specie? They may get along very well with this promise in a time of profound calm; but what would they do on occasions of panic'?t The paper issued under the existing system is an article of mer- chandise, varying in price with the variations of supply and de- mand: it is, therefore, unlit to serve as a medium of exchange. The banks depend on the merchants; so that, when the mer- chant is poor, it falls out that the bank is always still poorer. Of what use is the bank, if it calls in its issues in hard times— the very occasions when increased issues are demanded by the wants of the community? The existing bank reproduces the aristocratic organizations; it has its Spartan element of privileged stockholders, its Laconian element of obsequious speculators, and, on the outside, a multitude of Helots who are excluded from its advantages. Answer us, read- ♦Countlng, of course, the certificates of deposit wliich are convertible Into specie on demand. tNotwlthstanding the fact that this work was written in criticism of the banking system In vogue In IH.'jO, most pi'oi)le jjorslst In calling: it a "revival of the old wild-cat banks that e.xisted before the war."— Editor PETITION FOR A MUTUAL BANKING LAW. 47 er: If we are able, at this time, to bring forward the existing bank- ing system as a new thing, and should recommend its adoption, would you not laugh in our face, and characterize our proposition as ridic- ulous? Yet the existing system has an actual and practical being, in spite of all its imperfections: nay, more, it is the ruling element of the present civilization of the Christian world; it has substituted itself, or is now substituting itself, in the place of monarchies and nobilities. Who is the noble of the present day, if not the man who lends money at interest? Who is the emperor, if not Pereire or Baron Rothschild? Now, if the present system of banking is capa- ble of actual existence, how much more capable of actual existence is the system of mutual banking! Mutual banking combines all the good elements of the method now in operation, and is capable of securing a thousand beneflts which the present method cannot compass, and is, moreover, free from all its disadvantages! CHAPTER VI. THE PROVINCIAL LAND BANK.* "In the year 1714," says Governor Hutchinson, in his "His- tory of Massachusetts," a certain "party had projected a private bank; or, rather, had taken up a project published in London in the year 1684; but this not being generally known in America, a merchant of Boston was the reputed father of it. There was noth- ing more in it than Issuing bills of credit, which all the members of the company promised to receive as money, but at no certain value compared with silver and gold; and real estate to a sufficient value were to be bound as a security that the company should perform their engagements. They were soliciting the sanction of the Gen- eral Court, and an act of government to incorporate them. This party generally consisted of persons in difficult or involved circum- stances in trade; or such as were possessed of real estates; but had little or no ready money at command; or men of no substance at all; and we may well enough suppose the party to be very numerous. Some, no doubt, joined them from mistaken principles, and an ap- prehension that it was a scheme beneficial to the public; and some for party's sake and public applause. "Three of the representatives from Boston — Mr. Cooke; Mr. Noyes, a gentlemen in great esteem with the inhabitants in gen- eral; and Mr. Payne— were the supporters of the party. Mr. Hutchinson, the other (an attempt to leave him out of the House not succeeding), was sent from the House to the Council, where his opposition would be of less consequence. The governor was no favorer of the scheme; but the lieutenant-governor — a gentleman of no great fortune, and whose stipend from the government was trifling— engaged in the cause with great zeal. "A third party, though very opposite to the private bank, yet were no enemies to bills of credit. They were in favor of loan-bills from the government to any of the inhabitants who would mort- gage their estates as a security for the repayment of the bills with interest in a term of years: the interest to be paid annually, and applied to the support of government. This was an easy way of paying public charges; which, no doubt, they won- dered that in so many ages the wisdom of other govern- ments had never discovered. The principal men of the Council were in favor of it; and, it being thought by the first *It is worthy of note tli.'il tho prosent-day liistorliins, wlio take such pains to sliow their intirnr cent interest [per annum] for the sum taken out, and .'5 per cent of the principal;* and he that did not pay bills might pay the produce and manufacture of the Province at such rates as the directors from time to time should set: and they [the billsj should commonly pass in lawful money. The pretence was, that, by thus furnishing a medium and instru- ment of trade, not only the inhabitants in general would be better able to procure the Province bills of credit for their taxes, but trade, foreign and inland, would revive and flourish. The fate of the project was thought to depend on the opinion which the (len- eral Court should form of it. It was necessary, therefore, to have a house of representatives well disposed. Besides the 800 persons subscribers, the needy part of the Province in general favored the scheme. One of their votes will go as far in elections as one of the most opulent. The former are most numerous; and it appeared •Thus the whole principal would be paid up in twenty years. THE PROVINCIAL LAND BA^'K. 51 that by far the majority of representatives for 1740 were subscrib- ers to or favorers of the scheme, and they have ever since been dis- tinguished by the name of the Land-Bank House. "Men of estates and the principal merchants of the Province abhorred the project, and refused to receive the bills; but great numbers of shop-keepers who had lived for a long time on the fraud of a depreciating currency, and many small traders, gave credit to the bills. The directors, it was said, by a vote of the com- pany, became traders,* and issued just such bills as they thought proper, without any fund or security for their ever being redeemed. They purchased every sort of commodity, ever so much a drug, for the sake of pushing off their bills; and, by one means or other, a large sum— perhaps fifty or sixty thousand pounds— was floated. To lessen the temptation to receive the bills, a company of mer- chants agreed to issue their notes, or bills, redeemable in silver and gold at distant periods, much like the scheme in 1733, and attended with no better effect. The governor exerted himself to blast this fraudulent undertaking— the land-bank. Not only such civil and military officers as were directors or partners, but all who received or paid any of the bills were displaced. The governor negatived the person chosen speaker of the House, being a director of the bank; and afterwards negatived thirteen of the newly elected counsellors, who were directors or partners in, or favorers of, the scheme. But all was insufficient to suppress it. Perhaps the major part in num- ber of the inhabitants of the Province openly or secretly, were well- wishers of it. One of the directors afterwards acknowledged to me that, although he entered into the company with a view to the public interest, yet, when he found what power and influence they had in all public concerns, he was convinced it was more than be- longed to them, more than they could make a good use of, and therefore unwarrantable. Many of the more sensible, discreet per- sons of the Province saw a general confusion at hand. The author- ity of the Parliament to control all public and private persons and proceedings in the Colonies, was at that day questioned by nobody. Application was therefore made to I'arliament for an act to sup- press the company; which, notwithstanding the opposition made by their agent, was very easily obtained, and therein it was declared that the act of the Sixth of King (Jeorge I., chapter xviii., did, does and shall extend to the colonies and plantations of America. It was said the act of George I., when it was passed, had no relation to America; but another act, twenty years after, gave it force, even from the passing it, which it never could have had without. This was said to be an instance of the transcendent power of Parlia- ment. Although the company was dissolved, yet the act of Parlia- ment gave the possessors of the bills a right of action against every •See foregoing paragraph where It is said that debts to the bank might be paid in manufactures and produce. 52 MUTUAL BANKING. partner or director for the sums expressed, with interest. The company was in a maze. At a general meeting, some, it is said, were for running all hazards, although the act subjected them to a pramunire; but the directors had more prudence, and advised them to declare that they considered themselves dissolved, and meet only to consult upon some method of redeeming their bills of the posses- sors, which every man engaged to endeavor in proportion to his in- terest, and to pay in to the directors, or some of them, to burn or destroy. Had the company issued their bills at the value expressed on the face of them, they would have had no reason to complain at being obliged to redeem them at the same rate, but as this was not the case in general, and many of the possessors of the bills had ac- quired them for half their value, as expressed equity could not be done; and, so far as respected the company, perhaps, the Parlia- ment was not very anxious; the loss they sustained being but a just penalty for their unwarrantable undertaking, if it had been proper- ly applied. Had not the Parliament interposed, the Province would have been in the utmost confusion, and the authority of government entirely in the Land-Bank Company."— (p. 353.) The "miscliiefs" occasioned by this land-bank seems to have been political, rather than economical, for our author nowhere aflfirms that the bill holders, not members of the company lost any- thing by the institution. We would remark that there are certain "mischiefs" which are regarded not without indulgence by poster- ity. Governor Hutchinson ought to have explained more in detail the nature of the evils he complains of; and also to have told us why he, a declared enemy of popular institutions, opposed the ad- vocates of the bank so uncompromisingly. Mutualism operates, by its very nature, to render political government founded on arbi- trary force, superfluous; that is, it operates to the decentralization of the political power, and to the transformation of the state, by substituting self-government in the stead of government ab extra* The Land-Bank of 1740, which embodied the mutual principle, op- erated vigorously in opposition to the government. Can we wonder that it had to be killed by an arbitrary stretch "of the supreme power of Parliament," and by an ex post facto law bearing outrageously on the individual members of the company? For our part, we admire the energy — the confidence in the princii)lo of mu- tualism—of those memb(!rs who proposed to go on in spite of Parliament, "although the act subjected them to a pro'iuunire." If thi-y had gone on, they would simply have anticipated the Amer- ican Rev(jlution by some thirty years. But wliere is tlie warning to future ages? According to Gov- ernor Hutchinson's own statement, the fault of the bank was, that it would have succt^eded too well if it had had a fair trial; nay, *Tlils Is also ProiuUion's flioory; wliicli lu^ felicitously c;ill<'(l "t lio dissolution of goveniuiciit in the economic organism." — EDrrOH. THE PROVINCIAL LAND BANK. 5X that it would have succeeded in spite of ail obstacles had it not been for the exertion of "the transcendent power of Parliament." Where is the bank of these degenerate days that has shown any- thing like the same power of endurance? Someof the existing banks find it diflBcult to live with the power of government exerted in their favor! The attempt of the Land-Bank Company to republicanize gold and silver, and to make all commodities circulate as ready money was, without question, premature. But our author misapprehends the matter, mistaking a transformation of the circulating medium for a mercantile scheme. The "vote of the company whereby the direc- tors became traders," was an act for transforming the currency. We do not justify it altogether; for it put the welfare of the cause at too great hazard; but it was, nevertheless, not totally out of harmony with the general system. We remark in conclusion, that the depreciation in the provincial currency was occasioned, not by "land-bank," that is, by mutual paper— which the Parliament forced the issuers, by an arbitrary, vindictive, and tyrannical law, to redeem with interest — but it was occasioned by government paper, "professing to be ultimately redeemable in gold and silver."* All arguments, therefore, against mutual money, derived from the colonial currency, are foreign to the purpose. The main objections against mutual banking are as follows: 1. It is a novelty, and therefore a chimera of the inventor's brain; 2. It is an old story, borrowed from provincial history, and therefore of no account! How would you have us answer objections like these? Things new or old may be either good or evil. Every financial scheme should stand or fall by its own intrinsic merits, and not be judged from extraneous considerations. *"We are told that there is no instance of a government paper that did not depreciate. In reply I affirm that there is none assumiusthe form I propose (notes receivable by government in payment of dues) that ever did depreciate. Whenever a paper roroivable in the dues of government had anything like a fair trial, it has succeeded. Instance the case of North Carolina referred to in my opening remarks. The drafts of the treasury at this moment, with all their incumbrance, are nearly at par with gold and silver; and I migiit add the Instance alluded to by the distinguished senator from Kentucky, in which he admits, that as soon as tiio excess of the issues of tlie t'ommonwealth Bank of Kentucky were reduced to the proper point, its notes rose to par. The case of Russia might also be mentioned. In 1827 she had a fixed paper-circulation in the form of bank-notes, but which were Incon- vertible, of upward of S120,000,000, estimated in the metallic ruble, and which liad for years remained witliout fluctuation; having notliingto sustain it but that it was received in tlio dues of government, and that, too, with a revenue of only about S".)0,000,000 annually."— .Tohn C. Calhoun: Speech on his amendment to separate the government from the banks, Oct. 3, 1837. CHAPTER VII. MONEY. The most concise and expressive definition of the term "capi- tal," which we have seen in the writings of the political econo- mists, is the one furnished by J. Stuart Mill, in his table of con- tents. He says: "Capital is wealth appropriated to reproductive employment." There is, indeed, a certain ambiguity attached to the word wealth; but let that pass; we accept the definition. A tailor has $5 in money, which he proposes to employ in his business. This money is unquestionably capital, since it is wealth approjiri- ated to reproductive employment: but it may be expended in the purchase of cloth, in the payment of journeymen's wages, or in a hundred other ways; what kind of capital, then, is it? It is evi- dently, disengaged capital. Let us say that the tailor takes his money and expends it for cloth; this cloth is also devoted to repro- ductive employment, and is therefore still capital; but what kind of capital? Evidently, engaged capital. He makes this cloth into a coat; which coat is more valuable ihan the cloth, since it is the re- sult of human labor bestowed upon the cloth. But the coat is no longer capital; for it is no longer (so far, at least, as the occupation of the tailor is concerned), capable of being appropriated to repro- ductive employment; what is it, then? It is that for the creation of which the capital was originally appropriated: it is product. The tailor takes this coat and sells it in the market for ^8; which dollars become to him a new disengaged capital. The circle is com- plete; the coat becomes engaged capital to the purchaser; and the money is disengaged capital, with which the tailor may commence another operation. Money is disengaged capital, and disengaged capital is money. Capital passes, therefore, through various forms; first it is disengaged capital, then it becomes engaged capital, then it becomes product, afterwards it is transformed again into disen- gaged capital, thus recommencing its circular progress. The community is liappy and prosperous when all professions of men easily exchange with each other the products of their labor; that is, the community is hai)py and prosperous when money circu- lates freely, and each man is able with facility to transform his product into disengaged capital, for with disengaged capital, or money, men may command such of tlie products of labor as they desire, to the extent, at least, of the purchasing power of their money. The community is unhappy, unprosperous, miserable, when money is scarce, when exchanges are effected with difliculty. For notice, that, in the present state of the world, there is never real over-production to any appreciable extent; for, whenever the baker MOJ^EY. 55 has too much bread, there are always laborers who could produce that of which the baker has too little, and who are themselves in want of bread. It is when the tailor and baker cannot exchange, that there is want and over-production on both sides. Whatever, therefore, has power to withdraw the currency from circulation, has power, also, to cause trade to stagnate; power to overwhelm the community with misery; power to carry want, and its correla- tive, over-production, into every artisan's house and workshop. For the transformation of product into disengaged capital, is one of the regular steps of production; and whatever withdraws the dis- engaged capital, or money, from circulation, at once renders this step impossible, and thus puts a drag on all production. THERE ARE VARIOUS KINDS OF MONEY. But all money is not the same money. There is one money of gold, another of silver, another of brass, another of leather, and another of paper: and there is a difference in the glory of these different kinds of money. There is one money that is a commodity, having its exchangeable value determined by the law of supply and demand, which money may be called (though somevvhat barbarous- ly) merchandise-money; as for instance, gold, silver, brass, bank- bills, etc.; there is another money, which is not a commodity, whose exchangeable value is altogether independent of the law of supply and demand, and which may be called mutual money. Mr. Edward Kellogg says: '"Money becomes worthless when- ever it ceases to be capable of accumulating an income which can be exchanged for articles of actual value. The value of money as much depends upon its power of being loaned for an income, as the value of a farm depends upon its natural power to produce." And again: ''Money is valuable in proportion to its power to accum- ulate value by interest."* Mr. Kellogg is mistaken. Money is a commodity in a twofold way, and has therefore a twofold val- ue and a twofold price — one value as an article that can be ex- changed for other commodities, and another value as an article that can be loaned out at interest; one price which is determined by the supply and demand of the precious metals, and another price (the rate of interest) which is determined by the distress of the borrowing community. Mr. Kellogg speaks as though this last value and last price were the only ones deserving consideration; but this is by no means the case: for this last value and price are so far from being essential to the nature' of money, that the Mutual Bank will one day utterly abolish them. The natural value of the silver dollar depends upon the demand and supply of the metal of which it is composed and not upon its artiticial power to accumu- late value by interest. Legislation has created usury; and the ♦People who raise the cry of "clieap money" fall into the same error; money that circulates freely at par, whether interest-bearing or not, Is neither cheap or dear.— Editor. 56 MUTUAL BANKING. Mutual Bank can destroy it. Usury is a result of the legislation which establishes a particular commodity as the sole article of legal tender; and, when all commodities are made to be ready money through the operation of mutual banking, usury will vanish. CONVERTIBLE PAPER-MONEY RENDERS THE STANDARD OF VALUE UNCERTAIN. To show the efifect of variations in the volume of the existing circulating medium, not only on foreign commerce, but also on the private interests of each individual member of the community, we will, at the risk of being tedious, have recourse to an illustra- tion. Let us suppose that the whole number of dollars (either in specie or convertible paper) in circulation, at a particular time, is equal to Y; and that the sum of all these dollars will buy a certain determinate quantity of land, means of transportation, merchan- dise, etc, which may bo represented by x; for, if money may be taken as the measure and standard of value for commodities, then conversely, commodities may be taken as the standard and measure of value for money. Let us say, therefore, that the whole mass of the circulating medium is equal to Y; and that its value, estimated in terms of land, ships, houses, merchandise, etc., is equal to x. If, now, the quantity of specie and convertible paper we have sup- posed to be in circulation be suddenly doubled, so that the whole mass becomes equal in volume to 2Y, the value of the whole mass will undergo no change, but will still be equal to -t, neither more nor less. This is truly wonderful! Some young mathema- tician, fresh from his algebra, will hasten to contradict us, and say that the value of the whole mass will be equal to 2.r, or perhaps to X divided by 2, but it is the young mathematician who is in error, as may easily be made manifest. The multiplication of the whole number of dollars by 2 causes money to bo twice as easy to be ob- tained as it was before. Such multiplication causes, therefore, each individual dollar to fall to one-half its former value; and this for the simple reason that the price of silver dollars, or their equiv- alents in convertible paper, depends upon the ratio of the supply of such dollars to the demand for them, and that every increase in the supply causes therefore a proportionate decrease in the price. The variation in the volume docs not cause a variation in the value of the volume, but causes a variation in the price of the individual dollar. Again, if one-half the money in circulation bo suddenly withdrawn, so that the whole volume shall equal XY, the value of the new voluine will b(i exactly Cijual to .r, for the reason that the dilliculty in procuring money will be doubled, since the supply will be diminished one-half, causing each individual dollar to rise to double its former value. The value; of the whole, mass in circula- tion is independent of the variations of the volume; for every in- crease in the volume causes a proportionate decrease in the value of the iiulividual dollar, and every decrease in the volume causes proportionate increase in the value of the individual dollar. If the MONEY. 57 mass of our existing circulating medium v;ere increased a hundred- fold, the multiplication would have no effect other than that of reducing the value of the individual dollar to that of the existing individual cent. If gold were as plenty as Iron, it would command no higher price than iron. If our money were composed of iron, we should be obliged to hire an ox-cart for the transportation of SlOO; and it would be asdifficult, under such conditions, to obtain a cart- load of iron, as it is now to obtain its value in our present currency. A fall or rise in the price of money, and a rise or fall in the price of all other commodities besides money, are precisely the same economical phenomenon. The effect of a change in the volume of the currency is there- fore not a change in the value of the whole volume, but a change in the value of the individual silver dollar, this change being indi- cated by a variation in the price of commodities; a fall in the price of the silver dollar being indicated by a rise in the price of commo- dities, and a rise in the price of the dollar being indicated by a fall in the price of commodities. "The value of money," says J. Stuart Mill, other things being the same, "varies inversely as its quantity; every increase of quantity lowering its value, and every diminution raising it in a ratio exactly equivalent. That an increase of the quantity of money raises prices, and a diminution lowers them, is the most elementary proposition in the theory of the cur- rency; and, without it, we should have no key to any of the others." Let us use this key for the purpose of unlocking the practical mysteries attached to variations in the volume of the existing cur- rency. The banks, since they exercise control over the volume of the currency by means of the power they possess of increasing or diminishing, at pleasure, the amount of paper money in circula- tion, exercise control also over the value of every individual dollar in every private man's pocket. They make great issues, and money becomes plenty; that is to say, every other commodity becomes dear. The capitalist sells what he has to sell while prices are high. The banks draw in their issues, and money becomes scarce; that is, all other commodities become cheap. The community is distressed for money. Individuals are forced to sell property to raise money to pay their debts, and to sell at a loss on account of the state of the market. Then the capitalist buys what he desires to buy while prices are low. These operations are the upper and the nether mill- stones, between which the hopes of the people are ground to pow- der. THE EVILS OP CONVERTIBLE PAPER MONEY. Paper professing to be convertible into silver and gold, by over- stocking the home-market with money, makes specie to be in less demand in this country than it is abroad, and renders prolitable an undue exportation of gold and silver; thus occasioning a chronic drain of the precious metals.* "Persons of little foresight rejoice in the IukIi price of conimodi- 58 MUTUAL BANKING. It increases the volume of the currency, and therefore decreases the value of the individual silver dollar; thus causing an enhance- ment in the price of all domestic commodities; giving an unnatural advantage in our own markets to foreign manufacturers, who live in the enjoyment of a more valuable currency and presenting irre- sistible inducements to our own merchants to purchase abroad rather than at home. It operates to give control over the currency to certain organ- ized bodies of men, enabling them to exercise partiality, and loan capital to their relatives and favorites; thus encouraging incapac- ity, and depressing merit; and therefore demoralizing the people who are led to believe that legitimate business, which should be founded altogether upon capital, industry and talent, partakes of the nature of court-favor and gambling. It operates to eucourage unwise speculation; and, by furnishing artificial facilities to rash, scheming and incompetent persons, in- duces the burying of immense masses of capital in unremunerative enterprises. It reduces the value of our own currency below the level of the value of money throughout the world, rendering over-importation inevitable, causing our markets to be overstocked with foreign goods, and thus making the ordinary production of the country to present all the calamitous effects of over-production. It operates inevitably to involve the country and individuals doing business in the country, in foreign debts. It operates also, by blinding the people to the true nature of money, and encouraging them to raise funds for the commencement and completion of haz- ardous enterprises by the sale of scrip and bonds abroad, to mort- gage the country, and the produce of its industry, to foreign hold- ers of obligations against us, etc. ADVANTAGES OF A MUTUAL CURRENCY. Mutual Banks would furnish an adequate currency; for whether money were hard or easy, all legitimate paper would be discounted by them. At present, banks draw in their issues when money is scarce (the very time when a large issue is desirable), because they are afraid there will be a run upon them for specie; but Mutual Banks, having no fear of a run upon them— as they have no metal- lic capital, and never pretend to pay specie for their bills— can al- ways discount good paper. It may appear to some readers, notwithstanding the explana- tles— tliat Is, In the low price or plcntlfulness of money— not reflecting that, when money is too plenty, the sap and vitality of the country How forth In a constant stream to enrich forclKn lands. An excessive supply of money causes a deceitful appearance of prosperity, and favors tempo- rarily a few manufacturers, traders and mechanics; but It Is always a source of unnumbered calamities to the whole country. MOJsEY. 59 tions already given*, that we go altogether farther than we are warranted when we affirm that the creation of an immense mass of mutual money would produce no depreciation in the price of the sil- ver dollar. The difficulty experienced in understanding this matter results from incorrect notions respecting the standard of value, the measure of value, and the nature of money. This may be made evident by illustration. The yard is a measure of length; and a piece of wood, or a rod of glass or metal, is a corresponding stand- ard of length. The yard, or measure, being ideal, is unvarying; but all the standards we have mentioned contract or expand by heat or cold, so that they vary (to an almost imperceptible degree, perhaps) at every moment. It is almost impossible to measure off a yard, or any other given length, with mathematical accuracy. The meas- ure of value is the dollar; the standard of value, as fixed by law, is silver or gold at a certain degree of fineness. Corn, land, or any other merchantable commodity might serve as a standard of value, but silver and gold form a more perfect standard, on account of their being less liable to variation; and they have accordingly been adopted, by the common consent of all nations, to serve as such. The dollar, as simple measure of value, has— like the yard, which is a measure of length— an ideal existence only. In Naples, the ducat is the measure of value; but the Neapolitans have no specific coin of that denomination. Now, it is evident that the bill of a Mutual Bank is like a note of hand, or like an ordinary bank bill, neither a measure, nor a standard of value. It is (1) not a measure; for, un- like all measures, it has an actual, and not a merely ideal existence. The bill of a Mutual Bank, being receivable in lieu of a specified number of silver dollars presupposes the existence of the silver dol- lar as measure of value, and acknowledges itself as amenable to that measure. The silver dollar differs from a bill of a Mutual Bank receivable in lieu of a silver dollar, as the measure differs from the thing measured. The bill of a Mutual Bank is (2) not a standard of value, because it has in itself no intrinsic value, like silver and gold; its value being legal, and not actual. A stick has actual length, and therefore may serve as a standard of length; silver has actual intrinsic value, and may therefore serve as a standard of value; but the bill of a Mutual Bank, having a legal value only, and not an actual one, cannot serve as a standard of value, but is referred, on the contrary, to silver and gold as that standard, without which it would itself be utterly unintelligible. If ordinary bank bills represented specie actually existing in the vaults of the banks, no mere issue or withdrawal of them could effect a fall or rise in the value of money; for every issue of a dollar-bill would correspond to the locking up of a specie dollar in ♦Perhaps on account of those explanations. As hc:it melts wax, and hardens clay, so the same general principles, as applied to merchandise money and to mutual money, give opposite results. 60 MUTUAL BANKI^^G the bank's vaults; and every cancelling of a dollar-bill would cor- respond to the issue by the banks of a specie dollar. It is by the ex- ercise of banking privileges — that is, by the issue of bills purporting to be, but which are not, convertible — that the banks effect a de- preciation in the price of the silver dollar. It is this fiction (by which legal value is assimilated to, and becomes, to all business in- tents and purposes, actual value) that enables bank-notes to depre- ciate the silver dollar. Substitute verity in the place of fiction, either by permitting the banks to issue no more paper than they have specie in their vaults, or by effecting an entire divorce between bank-paper and its pretended specie basis, and the power of paper to depreciate specie is at an end. So long as the fiction is kept up, the silver dollar is depreciated, and tends to emigrate for the pur- pose of traveling in foreign parts; but the moment the fiction is de- stroyed, the power of paper over metal ceases. By its intrinsic nature specie is merchandise, having its value determined, as such, by supply and demand; but on the contrary, paper-money is, by its intrinsic nature, not merchandise, but the means whereby merchan- dise is exchanged, and as such ought always to be commensurate in quantity with the amount of merchandise to be exchanged, be that amount great or small. Mutual money is measured by specie, but is in no way assimilated to it; and therefore its issue can have no effect whatever to cause a rise or fall in the price of the precious metals. CHAPTER VIII. CREDIT. We are obliged to make a supposition by no means flattering to the individual presented to the reader. Let us suppose, there- fore, that some miserable mortal, who is utterly devoid of any per- sonal good quality to recommend him, makes his advent on the stage of action, and demands credit. Are there circumstances under which he can obtain it? Most certainly. Though he pos- sesses neither energy, morality nor business capacity, yet if he owns a farm worth $3,000, which he is willing to mortgage as secur- ity for $1,500 that he desires to borrow, he will be considered as eminently deserving of credit. He is neither industrious, punctual, capable, nor virtuous; but he owns a farm clear of debt worth $2,000 and verily he shall raise the $1,500! Personal credit is one thing; real credit is another and a very different thing. In one case, it is the man who receives credit; in the other, it is the property, the thing. Personal credit is in the nature of partnership; real credit is in the nature of a sale, with a reserved right of repurchase under conditions. By personal credit, two men or more are brought into voluntary mutual relations; by real credit, a certain amount of fixed property is transformed, under certain conditions and for a certain time, into circulating medium; that is, a certain amount of engaged capital is temporarily trans- formed into disengaged capital. THE USURY LAWS. We have already spoken of the absurdity of the usury laws. But let that pass; we will speak of it again. A young man goes to a capitalist, saying: "If you will lend rae $100, I will go into a certain business, and make $1,500 in the course of the present year; and my profits will thus enable me to pay you back the money you lend me, and another $100 for the use of it. In- deed it is nothing more than fair that I should pay you as much as I offer; for, after all, there is a great risk in the business, and you do me a greater favor than I do you." The capitalist answers: "I cannot lend you money on such terms; for the transaction would be illegal; nevertheless, I am willing to help you all I can, if I can devise a way. What do you say to my buying such rooms and machinery as you require, and letting them to you on the terms you propose? For, though I cannot charge more than 6 per cent on money loaned, I can let buildings, whose total value is only $100, at a rate of $1(X) per annum, and violate no law. Or, again, as I shall be obliged to furnish you with the raw material consiimed in your 62 MUTUAL BANKING. business, what do you say to our entering into a partnership, so ar- ranging the terms of agreement that the profits will be divided in fact, as they would be in the case that I loaned you SlOO at 100 per cent interest per annum?" The young man will probably permit the cap- italist to arrange the transaction in any form he pleases, provided the money is actually forthcoming. If the usury laws speak any intelligible language to the capitalist, it is this: "The legislature does not intend that you shall lend money to any young man to help in his business, where the insurance upon the money you trust in his hands, and which is subjected to the risk of his transactions, amounts to more than 6 per cent per annum on the amount loaned." And, in this speech, the deep wisdom of the legislature is mani- fested! Why six, rather than five or seven? Why any restriction at all? Now for the other side (for we have thus'far spoken of the usury laws as they bear on mere personal credit): If a man bor- rows $1,500 on the mortgage of a farm, worth, in the estimation of the creditor himself, $2,000, why should he pay 6 per cent interest on the money borrowed? What does this interest cover? Insurance? Not at all; for the money is perfectly safe, as the security given is confessedly ample; the insurance is 0. Does the interest cover the damage which the creditor suffers by being kept out of his money for the time specified in the contract? This cannot be the fact — for the damage is also 0— since a man who lends out money at interest, on perfect security, counts the total amount of interest as clear gain, and would much prefer letting the money at }>i per cent to permitting it to remain idle. The rate of interest upon money lent on perfect security is commensurate, not with the risk the creditor runs of losing his money— for that risk is 0; not to the inconven- ience to which the creditor is put by letting the money go out of his hands — for that inconvenience is also 0,* since the creditor lends only such money as he himself does not wish to use; but it is com- mensurate with the distress of the borrower. One per cent per annum interest on money lent on perfect security is, therefore, too high a rate; and all levying of interest-money on perfect security is profoundedly immoral, + since such interest-money is the fruit of the speculation of one man upon the misfortune of another. Yet the legislature permits one citizen to speculate upon the misfortune of another to the amount of six-hundredths per annum of the ex- tent to which he gets him into his power! This is the morality of the usury laws in their bearing on real credit. *If, liow(!v«!r, tlio incoiivunicnco is iinytliiiip, llio lender ouRlit to be Indemnilied; but such iiuU-mriificiitioii is nut proporly inturust. tPerhaps, we ought rather to say, "would be profoundly Immoral in a morf perfect social order." Wo suppose tliat must l)o considered ri^lit, iti our present chaotic state, wliicli is best on t lie wljolo, or wliich— tailing men's passion as tliey are— Is unavoidable. CREDIT. 63 LEGITIMATE CREDIT. All the questions connected with credit, the usury laws, etc., may be forever set at rest by the establishment of Mutual Banks. Whoever goes to the mutual bank, and offers real property in pledge, may always obtain money; for the Mutual Bank can issue money to any extent; and that money will always be good, since it is all of it based on actual property, that may be sold under the hammer. The interest will always be at a less rate than 1 per cent per annum, since it covers, not the insurance of the money loaned, there being no such insurance required, as the risk is 0; since it covers, not the damage which is done the'bank by keeping it out of its money, as that damage is also 0, the bank having always an un- limited supply remaining on hand, so long as it has a printing-press and paper; since it covers, plainly and simply, the mere expenses of the institution— clerk-hire, rent, paper, printing, etc. And it is fair that such expenses should be paid under the form of a rate of interest; for thus each one contributes to bear the expenses of the bank, and in the precise proportion of the benefits he individually experiences from it. Thus the interest, properly so called, is 0; and we venture to predict that the Mutual Bank will one day give all the real credit that will be given; for since this bank will give such at per cent interest per annum, it will be difficult for other institutions to compete with it for any length of time. The day is coming when everything that is bought will be paid for on the spot, and in mu- tual money; when all payments will be made, all wages settled, on the spot. The Mutual Bank will never, of course, give personal credit; for it can issue bills only on real credit. It cannot enter into partnership with anybody; for, if it issues bills where there is no real guarantee furnished for their repayment, it vitiates the cur- rency, and renders itself unstable. Personal credit will one day be given by individuals only; that is, capitalists will one day enter .into partnership with enterprising and capable men who are with- out capital, and the profits will bo divided between the parties ac- cording as their contract of partnership may run. Whoever, in the times of the Mutual Bank, has property, will have money also; and the laborer who has no property will find it very easy to get it; for every capitalist will seek to secure him as a partner. All services will then be paid for in ready money; and the demand for labor will be increased three, four and five fold. As for credit of the kind that is idolized by the present genera- tion, credit which organizes society on feudal principles, confused credit, the Mutual Bank will obliterate it from the face of the earth. Money furnished under the existing system to individuals and corporations is principally a[)plied to speculative purposes, ad- vantageous, perhaps, to those; individuals and corporations, if the speculations answer; but generally disadvantageous to the com- munity, whether they answer or whether they fail. If they answer, they generally end in a monopoly of trade, great or small, and in 64 MUTUAL BANKING. consequent high prices; if they fail, the loss falls on the community. Under the existing system, there is little safety for the merchant. The utmost degree of caution practicable in business has never yet enabled a company or individual to proceed for any longtime without incurring bad debts. The existing organization of credit is the daughter of hard money, begotten upon it incestuously by that insufficiency of circu- lating medium which results from laws making specie the sole legal tender. The immediate consequences of confused credit are want of confidence, loss of time, commercial frauds, fruitless and re- peated applications for payment, complicated with irregular and ruinous expenses. The ultimate consequences are compositions, bad debts, expensive accommodation-loans, lawsuits, insolvency, bankruptcy, separation of classes, hostility, hunger, extravagance, distress, riots, civil war, and, finally, revolution. The natural con- sequences of mutual banking are, first of all, the creation of order, and the definite establishment of due organization in the social body; and, ultimately, the cure of ail the evils which flow from the present incoherence and disruption in the relations of production and commerce. CONCLUSION. The expensive character of the existing circulating medium is evident on the most superficial inspection. The assessor's valua- tion for 1830, of the total taxable property then existing in the Com- monwealth of Massachusetts, was $208,360,407; the valuation for 1840 was $299,878,329. We may safely estimate, that ihe valuation for 1850 will be to that of 1840 as that of 1840 was to that of 1830. Performing these calculations, we find that the total amount of tax- able property possessed by the people of Massachusetts in the pres- ent year, is about $431,588,724.* The excess of this last valuation over that of 1840— i. e., $131,710,395— is the net gain, the clear profit, of the total labor of the people in the ten years under consideration. The average profit for each year was, therefore, $13,171,039. In the year 1849, the banks of Massachusetts paid their tax to the state, their losses on bad debts, their rents, their officers and lawyers, and then made dividends of more than seven per cent on their capitals. The people, must, therefore, in the course of that year (1840) have paid interest money to the banks to the amount of at least 10 per cent on the whole banking capital of the state. At the close of the year 1848, the banking capital in the state amounted to $32,683,330. Ten per cent on $32,683,330 is $3,268,333— the amount the people paid, during the year 1849, for the use of a currency. If the material of the currency had been iron, $3,268,333 would probably have paid the expenses of the carting and counting. What, then, is the utility of our present paper money? We have estimated the total profits of the whole labor of the people of the Commonwealth for the year 1849, at $13,171,039. It appears, therefore, that the total profits of nearly one-fourth part of the whole population of the state were devoted to the single purpose of paying for the use of a currency. Mutual Banks would have furnished a much better currency at less than one-tenth of this expense. The bills of a Mutual Bank cannot reasonably pretend to be standards or measures of value; and this fact is put forth as a recommendation of the mutual money to favorable consideration. The silver dollar is the measure and standard of value; and the bills of a Mutual Bank recognize the prior existence of this meas- ure, since they are receivable in lieu of so many silver dollars. The bill of a Mutual Bank is not a measure of value, since it is itself measured and determined in value by the silver dollar. If the dollar rises in value, the bill of the Mutual Bank rises also, since it is receivable in lieu of a silver dollar. The bills ♦According to tlie report of the Valuation Coinnilttee, it appears to have been (In the year 1850) $600,000,000— a much larger sum. 66 MUTUAL BANKI:NG. of a Mutual Bank are not measures of value, but mere instruments of exchange; and, as the value of the mutual money is determined, not by the demand and supply of the mutual money, but by the de- mand and supply of the precious metals, the Mutual Bank may is- sue bills to any extent, and those bills will not be liable to any de- preciation from excess of supply. And for like reasons, the mutual money will not be liable to rise in value if it happens at any time to be scarce in the market. The issues of said mutual money are therefore susceptible of any contraction or expansion which may be necessary to meet the wants of the community; and such contrac- tion or expansion cannot, by any possibility, be attended with any evil consequence whatever; for the silver dollar, which is the standard of value, will remain throughout at the natural valuation determined for it by the general demand and supply of gold and silver throughout the whole world. In order that the silver dollar, which is the standard and meas- ure of value, may not be driven out of circulation, the Mutual Bank— which has no vault for specie other than the pockets of the people — ought to issue no bill of a denomination less than tive dollars. THE KXD. No. lo. COMMONWEALTH LIBRARY. April, 1S96. Monthly, $1 yearly. Commonweallh Co., 28 Lafayette Place, N.Y. AN APPEAL TO THE YOUNG. By peter KROPOTKIN. New Edition. Translated by H. M. Hyndman. It is to the young that I wish to address myself to-day. Let the old — I mean, of course, the old in heart and mind — lay the pamphlet down, therefore, without tiring their eyes in reading what will tell them nothing. I assume that you are about eighteen or twenty years of age ; that you have finished your appren- ticeship or your studies; that you are just entering on life. I take it for granted that you have a mind free from the superstition which your teachers have sought to force upon you ; that you do not fear the devil, and that you do not go to hear ministers rant. More, that you are not one of the fops, sad products of a society in decay, who display their well-cut trousers and their monkey faces in the park, and who even at their early age have only an insatiable longing for pleasure at any price. ... I assume, on the contrary, that you have a warm heart, and for this reason I talk to you. A first question, I know, occurs to you — you have often asked yourself, " What am I going to be ?" In fact, when a man is young he understands that after having studied a trade or a science for several years — at the cost of society, mark — he has not done this in order that he should make use of his acquire- ments as instruments of plunder for his own gain, and he must be depraved indeed, and utterl}^ cank- ered by vice, who has not dreamed that one day he would apply his intelligence, his abilities, his knowl- edge, to help on the enfranchisement of those who to-day grovel in misery and in ignorance. You are one of those who have had such a vision. Price, Five Cents. 2 An Appeal to the Young. are you not ? Very well, let us see what you must do to make your dream a reality. I do not know in what rank 3^ou were born. Per- haps, favored by fortune, you have turned your atten- tion to the study of science ; you are to be a doctor, a lawyer, a man of letters, or a scientific man ; a wide field opens before you ; you enter upon life with ex- tensive knowledge, a trained intelligence. Or, on the other hand, you are, perhaps, only an honest artisan, whose knowledge of science is limited by the little you have learned at school ; but you have had the advantage of learning at first hand what a life of ex- hausting toil is the lot of the worker of our time. I stop at the first supposition, to return afterward to the second ; I assume, then, that you have received a scientific education. Let us suppose you intend to be a doctor. To-morrow a man in corduroys will come to take you to see a sick woman. He will lead 3'ou into one of those alle3^s where the opposite neighbors can almost shake hands over the heads of the passers-by; you ascend into a foul atmosphere by the flickering light of a little ill-trimmed lamp; you climb two, three, four, five flights of filthy stairs, and in a dark, cold room you find the sick woman, lying on a pallet covered with dirty rags. Pale, livid children, shiver- ing under their scanty garments, gaze at you with their big eyes wide open. The husband has worked all his life twelve or thirteen hours a day at no matter what; now he has been out of work for three months. To be out of employ is not rare in his trade ; it happens every year, periodically. But, formerly, when he was out of work his wife went out as a charwoman — perhaps to wash your shirts — at the rate of fifteen-pence a day ; now she has been bed- ridden for two months, and misery glares upon the family in all its squalid hideousness. What will you prescribe for the sick woman, doc- tor ? you who have seen at a glance that the cause All Appeal to the Young. 3 of her illness is general anaemia, want of good food, lack of fresh air ? Say a good beefsteak every day, a little exercise in the country, a dry and well-venti- lated bedroom ? What irony ! If she could have afforded it this would have been done long since without waiting for your advice ! If you have a good heart, a frank address, an hon- est face, the family will tell you many things. The}'- will tell you that the woman on the other side of the partition, who coughs a cough which tears your heart, is a poor ironer ; that a flight of stairs lower down all the children have the fever ; that the washer- woman who occupies the ground floor will not live to see the spring; and that in the house next door things are still worse. What will you say to these sick people ? Recom- mend them generous diet, change of air, less exhaust- ing toil? . . . You only wish you could, but you dare not, and you go out heartbroken with a curse on your lips. The next day, as you still brood over the fate of the dwellers in this dog-hutch, your partner tells you that yesterday a footman came to take him, this time in a carriage. It was for the owner of a fine house, for a lady worn out with sleepless nights, who devotes all her life to dressing, visits, balls, and squabbles with a stupid husband. Your friend has prescribed for her a less preposterous habit of life, a less heating diet, walks in the fresh air, and even temperament, and, in order to make up in some measure for the want of useful work, a little gymnastic exercise in her bedroom. The one is dvino; because she has never had enough food nor rest in her whole life ; the other pines be- cause she has never known what work is since she was born. If you are one of those miserable natures who adapt themselves to anything, who at the sight of the most revolting spectacles console themselves with a gentle 4 A7i Appeal to the Yojing. sigh and a glass of sherry, then you will gradually become used to these contrasts, and, the nature of the beast favoring your endeavors, your sole idea will be to lift yourself into the ranks of the pleasure- seekers, so that you may never again find yourself among the wretched. But if you are a man, if every sentiment is translated in your case into an action of the will ; if, in you, the beast has not crushed the in- telligent being, then you will return home one day saying to yourself, "No, it is unjust; this must not go on so any longer. It is not enough to cure dis- eases: we must prevent them. A little good living and intellectual development would score off our lists half the patients and half the diseases. Throw physic to the dogs ? Air, good diet, less crushing toil — that is how we must begin. Without this, the whole profession of a doctor is nothing but trickery and humbug." That very day you will understand socialism. You will wish to know it thoroughly, and if altruism is not a word devoid of significance for you, if you apply to the study of the social question the rigid induction of the natural philosopher, you will end by finding yourself in our ranks, and you will work, as we work, to bring about the social revolution. But perhaps you will say, " Mere practical business may go to the devil ! I will devote myself to pure science; I will be an astronomer, a physiologist, a chemist. Such work as that always bears fruit, if only for future generations." Let us first try to understand what you seek in de- voting yourself to science. Is it only the pleasure — doubtless immense — which we derive from the study of nature and the exercise of our intellectual facul- ties? In that case I ask you in what respect does the philosopher, who pursues science in order that he may pass life pleasantly to himself, difTer from the drunkard, who only seeks the immediate gratifi- cation that gin affords him ? The philosopher has, An Appeal to the Young. 5 past all question, chosen his enjoyment more wisely, since it affords him a pleasure far deeper and more lasting than that of the toper. But that is all ! Both one and the other have the same selfish end in view — personal gratification. But, no ; you have no wish to lead this selfish life. By working at science you mean to work for hu- manity, and that is the idea which will guide you in your investigations. A charming illusion ! Which of us has not hugged it for a moment when giving himself up for the first time to science ? But, then, if you are really thinking about human- ity, if you look to the good of mankind in your studies, a formidable question arises before you; for, however little you may have of the critical spirit, you must at once note that in our society of to-day science is only an appendage to luxury which serves to render life pleasanter for the few, but remains absolutely inaccessible to the bulk of mankind. More than a century has passed since science laid down sound propositions as to the origin of the uni- verse, but how many have mastered them or possess the really scientific spirit of criticism ? A few thou- sands at the outside, who are lost in the midst of hundreds of millions still steeped in prejudices and superstitions worthy of savages, who are conse- quently ever ready to serve as puppets for religious impostors. Or, to go a step further, let us glance at what science has done to establish rational foundations for physical and moral health. Science tells us how we ought to live in order to preserve the health of our own bodies, how to maintain in good conditions of existence the crowded masses of our population. But does not all the vast amount of work done in these two directions remain a dead letter in our books? We know it does. And why? Because science to-day exists only for a handful of privileged 6 An Appeal to the Young. persons; because social inequality, which divides society into two classes — the wage-slaves and the grabbers of capital — renders all its teachings as to the conditions of a rational existence only the bitter- est irony to nine-tenths of mankind. I could give plenty more examples, but I stop short: only go outside Faust's closet, whose win- dows, darkened by dust, scarce let the light of heaven glimmer on its shelves full of books; look round, and at each step you will find fresh proof in support of this view. It is now no longer a question of accumulating scientific truths and discoveries. We need above everything to spread the truths already mastered by science, to make them part of our daily life, to ren- der them common property. We have to order things so that all, so that the mass of mankind, may be capable of understanding and applying them ; we have to make science no longer a luxury, but the foundation of every man's life. This is what justice demands. I go further : I say that the interests of science itself lie in the same direction. Science only makes real progress when a new truth finds a soil already prepared to receive it. The theory of the mechani- cal origin of heat, though enunciated in the last cen- tury in the same terms that Hirn and Clausius formulate it to-day, remained for eighty years buried in the Academical Records until such time as knowl- edge of physics had spread widely enough to create a public capable of accepting it. Three generations had to go by before the ideas of Erasmus Darwin on the variation of species could be favorably received from his grandson and admitted by academical phi- losophers, and not without pressure from public opinion even then. The philosopher, like the poet or artist, is always the product of the society in which he moves and teaches. An Appeal to the Young. y But, if you are imbued with these ideas, you will understand that it is above all important to bring about a radical chanofe in this state of affairs which to-day condemns the philosopher to be crammed with scientific truths, and almost the whole of the rest of human beings to remain what they were five or ten centuries ago ; that is to say, in the state of slaves and machines, incapable of mastering established truths. And the day when you are imbued with wide, deep, humane, and profoundly scientific truth, that day you will lose your taste for science only. You will set to work to find out the means to effect this transformation, and if you bring to your investi- gations the impartiality which has guided you in 5'-our scientific researches you will of necessity adopt the cause of socialism ; you will make an end of soph- isms and you will come among us. Weary of working to procure pleasures for this small group, which already has a large share of them, you will place your information and devotion at the service of the oppressed. And be sure that, the feeling of duty accomplished and of a real accord established between your senti- ments and your actions, you will then find powers in yourself of whose existence you never even dreamed. When, too, one day — it is not so far distant in any case, saving the presence of our professors — when, one day, I say, the change for which you are working shall have been brought about, then, deriving new forces from collective scientific work, and from the powerful help of armies of laborers who will come to place their energies at its service, science will take a new bound forward, in comparison with which the slow progress of to-day will appear the simple exer- cises of tyros. Then you will enjoy science; that pleasure will be a pleasure for all. If you have finished reading law and are about to be called to the bar, perhaps you, too, have some illu- 8 Aji Appeal to the Young. sions as to your future activity — I assume that you are one of the nobler spirits, that you know what altruism means. Perhaps you think, "To devote my life to an unceasing and vigorous struggle against all injustice! To apply my whole faculties to bring- ing about the triumph of law, the public expression of supreme justice — can any career be nobler ? " You begin the real work of life confident in yourself and in the profession you have chosen. Very well: let us turn to any page of the Law Reports and see what actual life will tell you. Here we have a rich landowner ; he demands the eviction of a cotter tenant who has not paid his rent. From a legal point of view the case is beyond dispute : since the poor farmer cannot pay, out he must go. But if we look into the facts we shall learn something like this: The landlord has squandered his rents persistently in rollicking pleasure; the tenant has worked hard all day and ever}' day. The landlord has done nothing to improve his estate. Neverthe- less its value has trebled in fifty years, owing to a rise in price of land due to the construction of a rail- way, to the making of new highroads, to the draining of a marsh, to the enclosure and cultivation of waste lands. But the tenant who has contributed largely toward this increase has ruined himself; he fell into the hands of usurers, and, head over ears in debt, he can no longer pay the landlord. The law, always on the side of property, is quite clear : the landlord is in the right. I3ut you, whose feeling of justice has not yet been stifled by legal fictions, what will you do? Will you contend that the farmer ought to be turned out upon the high roads ? — for that is what the law ordains — or will you urge that the landlord should pay back to the fanner the whole of the increase or value in his property which is due to the farmer's labor? — this is what equity decrees. Which side will you take? For the law and against justice or for justice and against the law ? An Appeal to the Young. 9 Or, when workmen have gone out on strike against a master without notice, whicli side will you take? The side of tlie law, that is to say, the part of the master who, taking advantage of a period of crisis, has made outrageous profits, or against the law, but on the side of the workers who received during the whole time only fifty cents a day as wages, and saw their wives and children fade away before their eyes? Will you stand up for that piece of chicanery which consists in affirming "freedom of contract"? Or will you uphold equity, according to which a contract entered into between a man who has dined well and the man who sells his labor for bare subsistence, be- tween the strong and the weak, is not a contract at all? Take another case : A man was loitering near a butcher's shop. He stole a beefsteak and ran off with it. Arrested and questioned, it turns out that he is an artisan out of work, and that he and his family have had nothing to eat for four days. The butcher is asked to let the man off, but he is all for the triumph of justice! He prosecutes, and the man is sentenced to six months' imprisonment. Blind Themis so wills it ! Does not your conscience revolt against the law and against society when you hear similar judgments pronounced every day? Or, again, will you call for the enforcement of the law against this man who, badly brought up and ill- used from his childhood, has arrived at man's estate without having heard one sympathetic word, and completes his career by murdering his neighbor in order to rob him of twenty-five cents? Will you de- mand his execution, or — worse still — that he should be imprisoned for twenty years, when you know very well that he is rather a madman than a criminal, and, in any case, that his crime is the fault of our entire societv? . . . If you reason instead of repeating what is taught lo An Appeal to the Youtig. you ; if you analyze the law and strip off those cloudy fictions with which it has been draped in order to conceal its real origin, which is the right of the stronger, and its substance, which has ever been the consecration of all the tyrannies handed down to mankind through its long and bloody history ; when you have comprehended this, your contempt for the law will be profound indeed. You will understand that to remain the servant of the written law is to place yourself every day in opposition to the law of conscience, and to make a bargain on the wrong side; and, since this struggle cannot go on forever, you will either silence your conscience and become a scoundrel, or you will break with tradition, and vou will work with us for the utter destruction of all this injustice, economical, social, and political. But then you will be a socialist, you will be a rev- olutionist. And you, young engineer, you who dream of im- proving the lot of the workeis by the application of science to industry — what a sad disappointment, what terrible disillusions await you ! You devote the useful energy of your mind to working out the scheme of a railway which, running along the brink of precipices and burrowing into the ver}' heart of mountains of granite, will ' bind together two coun- tries which nature has separated. But, once at work, you see whole regiments of workers decimated by privations and sickness in this dark tunnel ; you see others of them returning home, carrying with them, may be, a few cents and the undoubted seeds of con- sumption ; you see human corpses — the results of a groveling greed — as landmarks along each yard of your road; and, when the railroad is finished, you see, lastly, that it becomes the highway for the artil- lery of an invading army. . . . You have given up the prime of your youth to per- fect an invention which will facilitate production. A71 Appeal to tJic Young. II and, after many experiments, many sleepless nights, you are at length master of this valuable discovery. You make use of it, and the result surpasses your expectations. Ten, twenty thousand "hands" are thrown out upon the streets ! Those who remain, most of them children, will be reduced to mere ma- chines ! Three, four, ten masters will make their fortunes and will drink deep on the strength of it. . . . Is this your dream ? Finally, you study recent industrial advances, and you see that the seamstress has gained nothing, abso- lutely nothing, by the invention of the sewing ma- chine; that the laborer in the St. Gothard tunnel dies of anchylosis, notwithstanding diamond drills ; that the mason and the day laborer are out of work just as before at the foot of the Giffard lifts. If you discuss social problems with the same independence of spirit which has guided you in your mechanical investigations, you necessarily come to the conclusion that under the domination of private property and wage-slavery, every new invention, far from increas- ing the well-being of the w^orker, only makes his slavery heavier, his labor more degrading, the periods of slack work more frequent, the crisis sharper, and that the man who already has every conceivable pleasure for himself is the only one who profits by it. What will you do when you have once come to this conclusion ? Either you will begin by silencing your conscience by sophisms ; then one fine day you will bid farewell to the honest dreams of your youth and you will try to obtain, for yourself, what commands pleasure and enjoyment — you will then go over to the camp of the exploiters. Or if you have a tender heart you will say to yourself, " No, this is not the time for inventions. Let us work first to transform the domain of production. When private property is put an end to, then each new advance in industry will be made for the benefit of all mankind ; and this 12 An Appeal to the Young. mass of workers, mere machines as they are to-day, will then become thinking beings who apply to in- dustry their intelligence, strengthened by study and skilled in inanual labor, and thus mechanical prog- ress will take a bound forward which Vv^ill carry out in fifty years what now-a-days we cannot even dream of." And what shall I say to the schoolmaster — not to the man who looks upon his profession as a wearisome business, but to him who, when surrounded by a joy- ous band of children, feels exhilarated by their cheery looks and in the midst of their happy laughter, to him who tries to plant in their little heads those ideas of humanity which he cherished himself when he was young. Often I see that you are sad, and I know what it is that makes you knit your brows. This very day, your favorite pupil, who is not very well up in Latin, it is true, but who has none the less an excellent heart, recited the story of William Tell with so much vigor ! His eyes sparkled ; he seemed to wish to stab all tyrants there and then ; he gave with such fire the passionate lines of Schiller: Before the slave when he breaks his chain, Before the free man tremble not. But when he returned home, his mother, his father, his uncle, sharply rebuked him for want of respect to the minister or the rural policeman ; they held forth to him by the hour on "prudence, respect for authority, submission to his betters," till he put Schiller aside in order to read " Self-Help." And then only yesterday you were told that your best pupils have all turned out badly. One does nothing but dream of becoming an officer; another in league with his master robs the workers of their slender wages ; and you, who had such hopes of these young people, you now brood over the sad contrast between your ideal and life as it is. An Appeal to the Yomig. 13 You still brood over it ? Then I foresee that in two ^'ears at the outside, after having suffered disappoint- ment after disappointment, you will lay your favorite authors on the shelf, and you will end by saying that Tell was no doubt a very honest fellow, but after all a trifle cracked ; that poetry is a first-rate thing for the fiieside, especially when a man has been teach- ing the rule-of-three all day long, but still poets are always in the clouds and their views have nothing to do with the life of to-dav, nor with the next visit of Ibo inspector of schools. . . . Or, on the other hand, the dreams of your youth will become the firm convictions of your mature age. You will wish to have wide, human education for all, in school and out of school ; and, seeing that this is impossible in existing conditions, you will attack the very foundations of bourgeois society. Then, dis- charged as you will be by the education department, you will leave your school and come among us and be of us ; you will tell men of riper years but of smaller attainments than yourself how enticing knowledge is, what mankind ought to be, nay, what we could be. You will come and work with socialists for the com- plete transformation of the existing system, will strive side by side with us to attain true equality, real fraternity, never-ending liberty for the world. Lastly, you, young artist, sculptor, painter, poet, musician, do you not observe that the sacred fire which inspired your predecessors is wanting in the men of to-day? that art is commonplace and medi- ocrity reigns supreme ? Could it be otherwise ? The delight of having re- discovered the ancient world, of having bathed afresh in the springs of nature which created the master- pieces of the Renaissance no longer exists for the art of our time ; the revolutionary ideal has left it cold until now, and, failing an ideal, our art fancies that it has found one in realism when it painfully photo- 14 An Appeal to the Young. graphs in colors the dewdrop on the leaf of a plant, imitates the muscle in the leg of a cow, or describes minutely in prose and in verse the suffocating filth of a sewer, the boudoir of a prostitute of high degree. " But, if this is so, what is to be done?" you say. If, I reply, the sacred fire that you say you possess is nothing better than a smouldering wick, then you will go on doing as 3^ou have done, and your art will speedily degenerate into the trade of decorator of tradesmen's shops, of a purveyor of libretti to third- rate operettas and tales for Christmas annuals — most of you are already running down that grade with a fine head of steam on. . . . But, if your heart really beats in unison with that of humanity, if like a true poet you have an ear for life, then, gazing out upon this sea of sorrow whose tide sweeps up around you, face to face with these people dying of hunger, in the presence of these corpses piled up in the mines, and these mutilated bodies lying in heaps on the barricades looking on these long lines of exiles who are going to bury them- selves in the snows of Siberia and in the marshes of tropical islands, in full view of this desperate battle which is being fought, amid the cries of pain from the conquered and the orgies of the victors, of heroism in conflict with cowardice, of noble determination face to face with contemptible cunning — you cannot remain neutral: you will come and take the side of the oppressed because you know that the beautiful, the sublime, the spirit of life itself are on the side of those who fight for light, for humanity, for justice! You stop me at last ! " What the devil ! " 3''ou say. " If abstract science is a luxury and practice of medicine mere chicane ; if law spells injustice, and mechanical invention is but a means of robbery; if the school, at variance with the wisdom of the ' practical man,' is sure to be overcome, and art without the revolutionary idea can An Appeal to the Voting. 1 5 onlv degenerate, what remains for me to do - " Well, I will tell you : A vast and most enthralling task ; a work in which your actions will be in complete harmony with your conscience, an undertaking capable of rousing the noblest and most vigorous natures. What work ? — I will now tell you. It rests with you either to palter continually with your conscience, and in the end to say one fine da}', " Perish humanity, provided I can have plenty of pleasures and enjoy them to the full, so long as the people are foolish enough to let me," Or, once more the inevitable alternative, to take part with the so- cialists and work with them for the complete trans- formation of society. Such is the irrefragable con- sequence of the analysis we have gone through. That is the logical conclusion which every intelligent man must perforce arrive at, provided that he reasons honestly about what passes around him, and discards the sophisms which his bourgeois education and the interested views of those about him whisper in his ear. This conclusion once arrived at, the question, "What is to be done?" is naturally put. The answer is easv. Leave this environment in which you are placed and where it is the fashion to say that the people are nothing but a lot of brutes, come among these people — and the answer will come of itself. You will see that everywhere, in England as well as in France, in Germany as well as in Italy, in Russia as well as in the United States, everywhere where there is a privileged and an oppressed class, there is a tremendous work going on in the midst of the working-class, whose object is to break down for- ever the slavery enforced by the capitalist feudality and to lay the foundation of a society established on the basis of justice and equality. It is no longer enough for the man of the people to-day to pour 1 6 Alt Appeal to the Young. forth his complaints in one of those songs whose melody breaks your heart, such as were sung by the serfs of the eleventh century, and are still sung by the Slav peasant ; he labors with his fellow-toilers for his enfranchisement, with the knowledge of what he is doing and against every obstacle put in his wa}-. His thoughts are constantly exercised in consider- ing what should be done in order that life, instead of being a curse for three-fourths of mankind, may be a real enjoyment for all. He takes up the hard- est problems of sociology and tries to solve them by his good sense, his spirit of observation, his hard experience. In order to come to an understanding with others as miserable as himself, he seeks to form groups, to organize. He forms societies, maintained with difficulty by small contributions; he tries to make terms with his fellows beyond the frontier; and he prepares the days when wars between peo- ples shall be impossible far better than the frothy philanthropists who now potter with the fad of uni- versal peace. In order to know what his brothers are doing, to have a closer connection with them, to elaborate his ideas and pass them round, he main- tains — but at the price of what privations, what ceaseless efforts ! — his working press. . . . What an unending series of efforts! What an incessant struggle ! What toil perpetually begun afresh; sometimes to fill up the gaps occasioned by desertion — the result of weariness, corruption, pros- ecutions ; sometimes to rally the broken forces deci- mated by fusilades and cold-blooded butchery! at another time to recommence the studies sternly broken off by wholesale slaughter. The newspapers are set on foot by men who have been obliged to force from society scraps of knowl- edge by depriving themselves of sleep and food ; the agitation is kept up by halfpence deducted from the amount needed to get the barest necessaries of life ; An Appeal to the Youjig. 17 and all this under the constant dread of seeing his family reduced to the most fearful misery, as soon as the master learns that "his workman, his slave, is tainted with socialism." This is what you will see if you go among the people. And in this endless struggle how often has not the toiler vainly asked as he stumbled under the weiofht of his burden: " Where, then, are these young people who have been taught at our expense ? these youths whom we fed and clothed while they studied? Where are those for whom, our backs bent double beneath our burdens and our stomachs empty, we have built these houses, these colleges, these lecture rooms, these museums? Where are the men for whose benefit we, with our pale, worn faces, have printed these fine books, most of which we cannot even read ? Where are they, these professors who claim to possess the science of mankind, and for whom humanity itself is not worth a rare caterpillar? Where are the men who are ever speaking in praise of liberty, and never think to champion our free- dom, trampled as it is each day beneath their feet? Where are they, these writers and poets, these painters and sculptors ? Where, in a word, is the whole gang of hypocrites who speak of the People with tears in their eyes, but who never, by any chance, find themselves among us helping us in our laborious work ? " i8 An Appeal to the Young. Where are they, indeed ? Why, some are taking their ease with the most cowardly indifference ; others, the majority, despise the " dirty mob," and are ready to pounce upon them if they dare touch one of t]icir privileges. Now and then, it is true, a young man comes among us who dreams of drums and barricades, and seeks sensational scenes; but he deserts the cause of the people as soon as he perceives that the road to the barricade is long, that the w-ork is heavy, and that the crowns of laurel to be won in this campaign are intermingled with thorns. Generally these are ambitious schemers out of work, who, having failed in their first efforts, try in this way to cajole people out of their votes, but who a little later will be the first to denounce them when the people wish to apply the principles which they themselves have professed ; perhaps will even be ready to turn artillery and gat- lings upon them if they dare to move before they, the heads of the movement, give the signal. Add mean insult, haughty contempt, cowardly calumny from the great majority, and you know what the people may expect now-a-days from most of the youth of the upper and middle classes in the way of help toward the social evolution. But then you ask, " What shall we do?" When there is everything to be done ! When a whole army of young people would find plenty to employ the en- tire vigor of their youthful energy, the full force of their intelligence and their talents, to help the people in the vast enterprise they have undertaken! What shall we do? Listen: You lovers of pure science, if you are imbued with the principles of socialism, if you have understood the real meaning of the revolution which is even now knocking at the door, do you not see that all science has to be recast in order to place it in harmony with the new principles; that it is your business to ac- complish in this field a revolution far greater than An Appeal to the Young. 19 that which was accomplished in every branch of science during the eighteenth century ? Do you not understand that history — which to-day is an old wife's tale about great kings, great statesmen and great parliaments — that history itself has to be written from the point of view of the people, from the point of view of work done by the masses in the long evo- lution of mankind? That social economy — which to- day is merely the sanctification of capitalist robbery — has to be worked out afresh in its fundamental principles as well as in its innumerable applications ? That anthropology, sociology, ethics, must be com- pletely recast, and that the very natural sciences themselves, regarded from another point of view, must undergo a profound modification, alike in re- gard to the conception of natural phenomena and with respect to the method of exposition ? Very well, then. Set to work ! Place your abili- ties at the command of the good cause. Especially help us with your clear logic to combat prejudice and to lay by your synthesis the foundations of a better organization ; yet more, teach us to apply in our daily arguments the fearlessness of true scientific investigation, and show us, as j-our predecessors did, how men dare sacrifice even life itself for the triumph of the truth. . You, doctors, who have learned socialism by a bitter experience, never weary of telling us to-day, to- morrow, in season and out of season, that humanity itself hurries onward to decay if men remain in the present conditions of existence and work; that all your medicaments must be powerless against disease while the majority of mankind vegetate in conditions absolutely contrary to those which science tells us are healthful; convince the people that it is the causes of disease which must be uprooted, and show us all what is necessary to remove them. Come with your scalpel and dissect for us with an unerring hand this society of ours hastening to putre- 20 An Appeal to the Young. faction. Tell us what a rational existence should and might be. Insist, as true surgeons, that a gan- grenous limb must be amputated when it will poison the whole body. You, who have worked at the application of science to industry, come and tell us frankly what has been the outcome of your discoveries. Convince those who dare not march boldly toward the future what new inventions the knowledge we have already ac- quired carries in its womb, what industry could do under better conditions, what man might easily pro- duce if he produced always with a view to enhance his own production. You poets, painters, sculptors, musicians, if you understand your true mission and the very interests of art itself, come with us. Place your pen, your pencil, your chisel, your ideas, at the service of the revolution. Figure forth to us, in your eloquent style, or your impressive pictures, the heroic struggles of the people against their oppressors ; fire the hearts of our youth with that glorious revolutionary en- thusiasm which inflamed the souls of our ancestors ; tell women what a noble career is that of a husband who devotes his life to the great cause of social emancipation ! Show the people how hideous is their actual life, and place your hand on the causes of its ugliness ; tell us what a rational life would be if it did not encounter at every step the follies and the ignominies of our present social order. Lastly, all of you who possess knowledge, talent, capacity, industry, if you have a spark of sympathy in your nature, come, you and your companions, come and place your services at the disposal of those who most need them. And remember, if you do come, that you come not as masters, but as comrades in the struggle ; that you come not to govern but to gain strength for yourselves in a new life which sweeps upward to the conquest of the future; that you come less to teach than to grasp the aspirations An Appeal to the Young. 21 of the many: to divine them, to give them shape, and then to work, without rest and without haste, witli all the fire of youth and all the judgment of age, to realize them in actual life. Then and then only will you lead a complete, a noble, a rational ex- istence. Then you will see that your every effort on this path bears with it fruit in abundance, and this sublime harmony once established between your ac- tions and the dictates of your conscience will give you powers you never dreamed lay dormant in your- selves. The never-ceasing struggle for truth, justice and equality among the people, whose gratitude you will earn — what nobler career can the youth of all na- tions desire than this? It has taken me long to show you of the well-to- do classes that, in view of the dilemma which life presents to you, you will be forced, if courageous and sincere, to come and work side by side with the socialists, and champion in their ranks the cause of the social revolution. And yet how simple this truth is, after all ! But when one is speaking to those who have suffered from the effects of bourgeois surroundings, how many sophisms must be com- bated, how many prejudices overcome, how many interested objections put aside ! It is easy to be brief to-day in addressing you, the youth of the people. The very pressure of events impels you to become socialists, however little 3'-ou may have the courage to reason and to act. To rise from the ranks of the working people, and not devote one's self to bringing about the triumph of socialism, is to misconceive the real interests at stake, to give up the cause and the true historic mission. Do you remember the time, when still a mere lad, you went down one winter's day to play in your dark court ? The cold nipped your shoulders through your thin clothes, and the mud worked into your 22 Afi Appeal to the Youjig. worn-out shoes. Even then, when you saw chubby children richly clad pass in the distance, looking at you with an air of contempt, you knew right well that these extravagantly dressed imps were not the equals of yourself and your comrades, either in intel- ligence, common-sense, or energy. But, later, when you were forced to shut yourself up in a filthy fac- tory from five or six o'clock in the morning, to remain twelve hours standing close to a whirling machine, and, a machine yourself, were forced to follow, day after day for whole years in succession, its relent- less, throbbing movements — during all this time the others were going quietly to be taught at fine schools, at academies, at the universities. And now these same children, less intelligent, but better taught than you, have become your masters, are enjoying all the pleasures of life and all the advantages of civilization. And you ? What sort of lot awaits you ? You return to little, dark, damp lodgings, where five or six human being^s herd together within a few square feet ; where your mother, sick of life, aged by care rather than years, offers you dry bread and pota- toes as your only food, washed down by a blackish fluid called, in irony, tea; and to distract your thoughts you have ever the same never-ending ques- tion, " How shall I be able to pay the baker to- morrow, and the landlord the day after?" What ! must you drag on the same weary exist- ence that your father and mother did for thirty and forty years? Must you toil your life long to procure for others all the pleasures of well-being, of knowl- edge, of art, and keep for yourself only the eternal anxiety as to whether you can get a bit of bread? Will you forever give up all that makes life so beau- tiful to devote yourself to providing every luxury for a handful of idlers? Will you wear yourself out with toil and have in return onlv trouble, if not mis- ery, when hard times — the fearful hard times — come upon you ? Is this what you long for in life ? An Appeal to the Young. 23 Perhaps you will give up. Seeing no way out of your condition whatever, maybe you say to yourself, '* Whole generations have undergone the same lot, and I, who can alter nothing in the matter, I must submit also. Let us work on, then, and endeavor to live as well as we can ! " Very well. In that case life itself will take pains to enlighten you. One day a crisis comes, one of those crises which are no longer mere passing phenomena, as they were a while ago, but a crisis which destroys a whole in- dustry, which plunges thousands of workers into misery, which crushes whole families. You struggle like the rest against the calamity. But you will soon see how your wife, your child, your friend, little by little, succumb to privations, fade away under your very eyes. For sheer want of food, for lack of care and of medical assistance, they end their days on the pauper's stretcher, while the life of the rich sweeps past in joyous crowds through the streets of the great city gleaming in the sunlight— utterly careless and indifferent to the dying cries of those who perish. Then you will understand how utterly revolting this society is; you will reflect upon the causes of this crisis, and your examination will go to the very depths of this abomination which puts millions of human beings at the mercy of the brutal greed of a handful of useless triflers ; then you will understand that socialists are right when they say that our present society can be, tliat it must be, reorganized from top to bottom. To pass from general crises to your particular case. One day when 3'our master tries by a new reduction of wages to squeeze out of you a few more cents in order to increase his fortune still further you will pro- test; but he will haughtily answer, "Go and eat grass, if you will not work at the price I offer." Then you will understand that your master not only tries to shear you like a sheep, but that he looks upon you 24 An Appeal to the Young. as an inferior kind of animal altogether; that not content with holding you in his relentless grip by means of the wage-system, he is further anxious to make you a slave in every respect. Then you will either bow down before him, you will give up the feeling of human dignity, and you will end by suffer- ing every possible humiliation; or the blood will rush to your head, you shudder at the hideous slope on which you are slipping down, you will retort, and, turned out workless on the street, you will under- stand how right socialists are when they say "Revolt ! rise against this economic slavery! " Then you will come and take your place in the ranks of the social- ists, and you will work with them for the complete destruction of all slavery — economic, social, and political. Some day again you will learn the story of that charming young girl whose brisk gait, frank manners, and cheerful conversation you so lovingly admired. After having struggled for years and years against misery, she left her native village for the metropolis. There she knew right well that the struggle for ex- istence must be hard, but she hoped at least to be able to gain her living honestly. Well, now you know what has been her fate. Courted by the son of some capitalist she allowed herself to be enticed by his fine words, she gave herself up to him with all the passion of youth, only to see herself aban- doned with a baby in her arms. Ever courageous, she never ceased to struggle on ; but she broke down in this unequal strife against cold and hunger, and she ended her days in one of the hospitals, no one knows which. . . . What will you do? Once more there are two courses open to you. Either you will push aside the whole unpleasant reminiscence with some stupid phrase: "vShe was not the first and will not be the last," you will say; perhaps, some evening, you will be heard in a public room, in company with other An Appeal to the Young. 25 beasts like yourself, outraging the young girl's mem- ory by some dirty stories; or, on tlie other hand, your remembrance of the past will touch your heart ; you will try to meet the seducer to denounce him to his face ; you will reflect upon the causes of these events that recur every day, and you will comprehend that they will never cease so long as societ}' is divided into two camps : on one side the wretched and on the other the lazy — the jugglers with fine phrases and bestial lusts. You will understand that it is high time to bridge over this gulf of separation, and you will rush to place yourself among the socialists. And you, woman of the people, has this left you cold and unmoved ? While caressing the pretty head of that child who nestles close to you, do you never think about the lot that awaits him, if the present social conditions are not changed. Do you never reflect on the future awaiting your young sister, and all your own children ? Do you wish that your sons should vegetate as your father vegetated, with no other care than how to get his daily bread, with no other pleasure than that of the gin-palace ? Do you want your husband, your boys, to be ever at the mercy of the first comer who has inherited from his father a capital to exploit them with ? Are you anxious that they should remain slaves for a master, food for powder, mere dung wherewith to manure the pasture-lands of the rich expropriator ? Nay, never; a thousand times no! I know right well that your blood has boiled when you have heard that your husbands, after they entered on a strike full of fire and determination, have ended by accept- ing, cap in hand, the conditions dictated by the bloated bourgeois in a tone of haughty contempt ! I know that you have admired those Spanish women who in a popular rising presented their breasts to the bayonets of the soldiery in the front ranks of the in- surrectionists. I am certain that you mention with reverence the name of the woman who lodged a 26 An Appeal to the Young. bullet in the chest of that ruffianly official who dared to outrag-e a socialist prisoner in her cell. And I am confident that 3'our heart beats faster when 3'ou read how the women of the people in Paris gathered under a rain of shells to encourage "their men" to heroic action. Every one of 5'ou, then, honest young folks, men and women, peasants, laborers, artisans and soldiers, you will understand what are your rights and you will come along with us; you will come in order to work with your brethren in the preparation of that revolution which, sweeping away every vestige of slavery, tearing the fetters asunder, breaking with the old worn-out traditions and opening to all man- kind a new and wider scope of J03-0US existence, shall at length establish true liberty, real equality, un- grudging fraternity throughout human society; work with all, work for all — the full enjoyment of the fruits of their labor, the complete development of all their faculties ; a rational, human and happy life ! Don't let anyone tell us that we — but a vsmall band — are too weak to attain unto the magnificent end at which we aim. Count and see how many of us there are who suffer this injustice. We peasants who work for others and who mumble the straw while our master eats the wheat, we by our- selves are millions of men. We workers who weave silks and velvets in order that we may be clothed in rags, we, too, are a great multitude ; and when the clang of the factories per- mits us a moment's repose, we overflow the streets and squares like the sea in a spring tide. We soldiers who are driven along to the word of command, or by blows; we who receive the bullets for which our officers get crosses and pensions ; we, too, poor fools who have hitherto known no l)etter than to shoot our brothers — why, we have only to make a right-about-face toward these plumed and Ati Appeal to the Young. 27 decorated personages who are so good as to com- mand us, to see a ghastly pallor overspread their faces. Ay, all of us together, we who suffer and are in- sulted daily, we are a multitude whom no man can number, we are the ocean that can embrace and swallow up all else. When we have but the will to do it, that very moment will justice be done : that very instant the tyrants of the earth shall bite the dust. "An Appeal to the Young," per dozen, 40c. ; per hundred, $2.50. Entered at the New York Postoffice as second-class matter. ^OMMONWBAI^TH. "Collective ovrnership of the means of production and distribution" A Weekly Socialist Magazine. 32 pages, Svo. Per No., 3c.; Monthly, loc. ; Three Months, 25c.: Six Months, 50c. ; Yearly, $1. Back Numbers Furnished. Sample Copies Free. COMMONW:^AI^TH I^IBRARY, Monthly, will contain Choice Works on Social Science by Able Authors. This Library is within the reach of all, the prices ranging from 5 Cents to 25 Cents. Yearly, $1. ME^RRIB BNGI/AND. A Plain SlOn A I ISIM What it Is and :^xposition of Ov/V(l ALIOl I What it is Not. By ROBERT BLATCHFORD. 1,000,000 Copies Already Sold. i2mo, i-]2 Pages, Popular Paper Edition, Plain, Clear Type, \oc. 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Social Duties of Those Devoted to the Professions, Sciences, Literature, Etc. By (Prince) Peter Kropotkin. Nos. 3-10, Inclusive, 5 cts. each; 40 cts. per dos.; $2.50 per 100. What We Want. By James Jeffrey Roche. A Remarkably Fine Humanitarian Poem. 5 cts. per doz. ; 30 cts. per 100; $1.25 per 500; i!!i.75 per 1,000. COMMONWEALTH COMPANY, 28 Lafayette Place, New York. HERBERT SPENCER'S SYNTHETIC PHDLOSOPHY BY BENJAMIN F. UNDERWOOD COLLATERAL READINGS SUGGESTED: . Spencer's First Principles, Principles of Biology, Principles of Psy- chology, Principles of Sociology, Data of Ethics, and Chapters on Jus- tice, in Popular Science Monthly ; Fiske's Cosmic Philosophy ; Thomp- son's A System of Psychology ; Cazelles's Evolution Philosophy ; E, L. Youmans's Lecture on Herbert Spencer and the Doctrine of Evolution, in Gazelles. HERBERT SPENCER'S SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY.* By B. F. Undeewood. The movement imparted to philosophy by the applica- tion of the " Newtonian method " to philosophical problems gave rise to that form of sensationalism which originated with Locke and culminated with Hume. Its motto was : Nihil est in intellectu quod non fuerit in sensii. Before this movement was started philosophical tenets were principally deduced from "innate ideas." Descartes had appealed to the innate idea of God as ens realissimum^ as supreme truth, with which all philosophy had to con- form ; and to Leibnitz innate ideas afforded the main prem- ises for philosophical deductions. But, of course, if there is nothing in mind but what enters into it through the senses, there can not be any innate ideas, such, for instance, as an innate idea of " God " or of " immortal soul." All knowledge must, then, be derived from sensorial experience. The negative or destructive phase of the sensation phi- losophy resulted consistently in the annihilation of all ideas not sense-derived. Its positive or constructive phase con- sisted in the attempt to build up knowledge out of sensorial data alone. Berkeley dissipated the idea of the " extended substance," or matter as externally subsisting, by showing that the sen- sorial elements entering into the idea of matter — its primary qualities, such as extension, form, etc., as well as its second- ary qualities, such as hardness, color, etc. — that all these elements, without exception, are subjective, mere modes of feeling; that the belief that there exists an extended, formed, hard, and colored substance outside the perceiving mind is an illusion. Berkeley made use of this way of rea- soning to combat materialism, and to glorify the idea of God and of the immortality of man. With him it was God who awakened the sensorial perceptions in us, and our im- mortal soul that perceived them. * This lecture is intended not merely as an exposition of the Synthetic Philoso- phy, but also as a history of its origin, and its relation to other systems, especially to those of Huuie and Kant. 86 Herhert Spencer's Syiithetic Philosophy. Hume, following Berkeley's manner of reasoning, aimed to show that our belief in the " thinking substance " or soul is just as much an illusion as our belief in the extended substance or matter ; and that no sensorial experience can bring us any knowledge of supreme being awakening per- ceptions in us. The sensation philosophy had thus run out in complete nihilism — a godless, soulless, matterless world, consisting of nothing but sensorial elements more or less closely connected by mental links, so as to form a somewhat consistent experience. Amid these nihilistic implications of the sensation phi- losophy it remained clear beyond doctrinal cavil that the sensorial particulars leave faint copies behind them in mem- ory; and that these faint copies, called ideas, enter into manifold combinations among themselves, and also with the direct or vivid sensorial feelings. The question concerning the nature of the bond of connection between experiential data became from now on the principal question in philoso- phy. Ilume had rendered it evident that the connection between the direct, vivid, matter-of-fact data is of an essen- tially different kind from that between the faint remem- bered copies of them — different, above all, from mere logical connection. In modern philosophy, through the influence of Descartes and Leibnitz, the method of acquiring knowledge was held to be exclusively that of deduction, as taught by formal logic ; the ancient and current method of syllogistic reason- ing from universals to particulars. Hume's argumentation left no doubt that direct matter-of- fact knowledge is derived in an opposite manner — namely, by beginning with particular sensorial feelings, whose con- nection is not ascertained by a process of thought, but is entirely given in direct sensorial experience. Not because I originally have the general idea that fire bums do I know that this particular fire will burn when I touch it : but be- cause I have numbers of times experienced tiiat particular fires burn, have I formed the general idea that all fires burn. This means that the logical connection found to exist in the realm of ideas is secondary to the real connection found to exist in tlie realm of sensorial experience. The connec- tion between natural events or matter-of-fact occurrences can be derived solely through sensorial experience, and can not be arrived at by purely logical or mental processes. Causal connection differs tutu generc from logical connection. Herbert Spe7icer^s Synthetic Philosophy. 87 The relation of cause and effect consists merely in the succession of our impressions and ideas. The sequence is ideal and its order has become established by a habit of ex- pectation derived from many and frequent experiences of a definite succession of impressions. Thus the sight of a flame having been uniformly followed by the feeling of heat, this feeling will always in the future arise vividly whenever and wherever a flame is seen. The connection of cause and effect is therefore only ideal, having no relation to an invariable permanent objective order, being only a subjective bond be- tween the transitory particulars of sense and their reflected remembrance. Besides the fundamental distinction between causal con- nection and logical connection implied in Hume's argumen- tation, the derivation of all ideas from sensorial experience — purely experiential links forming the connection between these data of knowledge — gave rise to wdiat is known as English experientialism, or the association philosophy. The aim of this ishilosophical method is to discover the general laws that govern the association of ideas experientially de- rived, and to show that all our complex ideas are formed by association of experienced i^articulars, in accordance with those general laws. It was Hume's elucidation of the process of matter-of-fact experience that awakened Kant from the " dogmatic slum- ber " into which he had been rocked by the purely logical or deductive philosophy of the Leibnitz- Wolffian school, " leading him," as Dr. Edmund JMontgomery says, " to dis- cover the enchanted path traveled by so many since, on which the charmed wanderer is carried, far away from real nature, to the mystic realm of transcendental idealism." By this school of thought it has been taken for granted incon- testably that the general ideas or so-called concepts, found ready-made in our mind when we begin to philosophize, are eternal and universal verities implanted in us independently of all external experience, and that our understanding of truth is arrived at solely by deriving it from these pre-exist- ing concepts by means of syllogistic reasoning. Kant was the first fully to appreciate the" important im- plications involved in Hume's experiential derivation of all knowledge ; for if there is really no other way of arriving at the knowledge of truth than that of accepting it as it comes to us in sensorial experience, and if the knowledge of such truth consists simply in au exiierienced connection of 88 Herbert Spencer^ s Syjithetic P1iUoso2)liy. sensorial and therefore wholly natural data, then all meta- physical conceptions out of which philosophy had been hitherto constructed could be nothing but idle illusions, and all existing metaphysics nothing but a baseless dream, a mere castle in the air. Kant's life-long and most earnest endeavor was to extricate philosophy from these God and soul eliminating implications of sensorial experientialism. With him the problem assumed the following form : Is our mind endowed or not endowed with a faculty of forming a priori synthetical propositions ? Or, in other words, is it or is it not capable of forming knowledge of some kind without the existence of sensorial experience ? If not, then the cause of metaphysical philoso- phy is hopeless. Kant believed that in pure mathematics he had discovered a kind of knowledge constructed wholly from a 2}riori data by the mind without the aid of sensorial experience. That the truths of pure mathematics consist of such a j^riori syn- thetical propositions is the fundamental assertion upon which the entire Kantian philosophy is grounded. To make good his case, he had first to show that space and time, in which all mathematical constructions take form, are them- selves a priori possessions of the mind, and he had further- more to show that the synthetic power — the power wliich combines particular data into systematic knowledge — is like- wise an a priori possession of the mind. Philosophers in Germany before Kant had looked upon perception, or the manifold of experience which appears ii^ time and space, as merely an indistinct kind of apprehen- sion, whose clear -and distinct knowledge they held to con- sist exclusively in concepts. Kant now declared perceptual sensibility to be a fundamental faculty of the mind alto- gether distinct from its conceptual apprehension. Accord- ing to him, this original or pure perceptual sensibility of the mind consists in the empty forms of space and time, which he calls the outer and the inner sense, respectively. Into these a priori forms of our sensibility all sense-derived ma- terial, all a posteriori or externally imparted sensorial data, are received. I'his occurs in a purely receptive manner without the active part of our nature coming into play. The active part of our nature Kant declares to be intelligence exclusively. In liis view sensibility is an entirely passive faculty, all activity being exclusively a matter of intellect. It is this lodging of all activity, of all combining and ap- Eerhert Spencerh Synthetic Pliilosophy. 89 pretending power in nature, in a special facnlty called in- telligence, and believed to constitute mind proper, that inevitably leads to pure transcendental idealism, such as was taught by the late Thomas Hill Green, and is taught at present in many of the universities ; for, if our knowledge is in fact out and out, and through and through, a synthe- tized compound, it follows that — intelligence being declared the only synthetical power extant — our knowledge must be out and out, and through and through, a product of intelli- gence. And this means that thought and being are identi- cal, that the world consists of nothing but thought. Kant himself abhorred pure idealism. He firmly believed that sense-material is given to sensibility from outside ; that there exists actually a realm of things in themselves, of the true nature of which, however, he was positive that we can know nothing, and this because space and time, the forms in which the sense-given material appears to us, and the different modes of combination, the so-called categories, through which this raw material is elaborated into system- atic knowledge, are faculties belonging to our own mental nature. Moreover, though Kant believed that pure mathematics is constructed a priori by force of our seusorially unaided mental endowments, he came to the final conclusion that our combining faculty, in order to constitute real knowl- edge, requires imperatively sense-given material to work upon ; that constructions formed of any other material are baseless. It is, however, important to notice that Kant be- lieved the combining categories or synthetical functions of the intellect to inhere in an intelligible Ego, belonging to a supernatural sphere of existence. In spite of his complete overthrow of the old metaphysical idols by force of his theoretical speculations, Kant had in reserve a loop-hole through which he was convinced he could more effectively than ever establish connection Avith the intelligible world, the real existence of which he had never doubted. God and the immortal soul of man, as intelligible or supernatural existences, were to him primordial verities, attested beyond contention by the moral law, in obedience to which our own intelligible nature has power to determine the course of nature by means of free volitional causation. Leibnitz, having become acquainted with Locke's sensa- tionalism, modified considerably his view of innate ideas. He changed, however, the motto of the sensation philosophy 90 Herbert Spencer^s Synthetic Pliilosophy. by adding a clause to it, wbicli made it read : Nihil est in in- tellectu quod non fuerit in sensu, nisi ipse intellectus. Thus changed, it became the motto of Kant's transcend- ental idealism, and this view of innate faculties^ instead of innate ideas, distinguishes the Kantian view, on the one hand, from the old Leibnitz- Wolffian philosophy that rested entirely on innate ideas, and on the other hand from Hume's sensorial experientialism, which denies the existence of any sort of innate possession, whether in the form of ready-made ideas or of mere potential faculties. Kant undertakes to show that the mind brings with it certain elements of a priori knowledge in which no empirical influence, personal or ancestral, is traceable. " Experience," he says, " consists of intuitions which are entirely the work of the understand- ing." " Experience consists in the synthetical connections of phenomena (perceptions) in consciousness, so far as the connection is necessary " (Prolegomena 1, sec. 23, 23). " The reader had probably been long accustomed to consider experience a mere empirical synthesis of perception, and hence not to reflect that it goes much further than these ex- tend, as it gives empirical judgments universal validity, and for that presupposes pure unity of the understanding which precedes a pyHori^^ (ibid., sec. 26, MahafEy's translation). " It is the matter of all phenomena that is given to us a posteriori; the form must be ready a priori for them in the mind." " Before objects are given to me, that is a priori, I must presuppose in myself laws of the undcrstai^ding which are expressed in conceptions a priori. To these conceptions all objects of experience must necessarily conform" (Preface to second edition of Kritik). We are affected by objects, he argued, only by intuition, which is always sensuous. The faculty of thinking the object of sensuous intuition is the understanding. " Understanding can not intuit, the sensibility can not think. In no other way than from tlio united operation of both can knowledge arise." Thus Kant maintains that before sensuous impressions can be changed into experience tliey must be molded by the mutual forms of sensible intuition and logical concep- tion. It is universally admitted amoTig tliinkers tliat Kant tried to hold positions that are contradictory ; but on this point I can not dwell liere. The post-Kantiun pliildsophcrs aimed to overcome the new dualism implied by Kant's contention that not only Herlert Spencer^s Syntlietic Philosophy. 91 sensations as such, but also space and time, the very media in which they appeared, and their whole synthesis in con- sciousness, are products of the feeling and thinking indi- vidual, and by his insisting on the existence of an outside realm of things-in-themselves affecting the individual's sen- sibility. Fichte tried to prove the synthetical power of the individual to create the objective world ; Hegel, by identi- fying thought with being, and subjective thought with uni- versal thought (transcendental idealism) ; Schelling, by making the subjective and objective both inhere in one and the same all-comprising hyper-subjective and hyper-object- ive substance or subject-object (transcendental realism). Fichte, Hegel, Schelling, Schopenhauer, all founded their systems on Kant's a piiori elements in knowledge. The main line of descent from Hume in England was repre- sented by Hartley, James Mill, and John Stuart Mill ; and none of them were able to reconcile with their experiential philosophy the fact of a jiriori forms of intuition on which Kant had rightly insisted. It remained for Herbert Spencer to apply the principle of evolution to mind and to show that Kant's " forms of thought," although a priori in the individual, are experi- ential in the race — in other words, were acquired in the evolutionary process. Long before Spencer, instincts were regarded as acquired mental habitudes that had become organically fixed. Conscious experience and conscious memory of it were thus held to pass, by means of organic fixation and subsequent transmission of the modified sti'uct- ure, into organized experience and memory. This concep- tion forms the nucleus of Spencer's mental philosophy. Thus Herbert Spencer, " our great philosopher " — as Darwin called him — in his Principles of Psychology, published be- fore Darwin's Origin of Species had appeared, assuming the truth of organic evolution, endeavored to show how man's mental constitution was acquired. Spencer, recognizing the existence of the subjective forms, with a grasp of thought and philosophic insight never surpassed, shows that while in the iudividual they are a priori, in the race they are ex- periential, since they are constant, universal experiences or- ganized as tendencies and transmitted, like any of the phys- ical organs, as a heritage ; that thus such a priori forms as those of space, time, causality, etc., must have had their origin in experience. Says Dr. Carpenter : " No physiolo- gist can deem it improbable that the intuitions which we 92 Herlert Spencerh Synthetic Philosophy. recoo-nize in our mental constitution have been acquired by a process of gradual development in the race corresponding to that which we trace by observation in the individual. . . . The doctrine that the intellectual and moral intuitions of any one generation are the embodiment in its mental con- stitution of the experience of the race was first explicitly put forth by ]\Ir. Herbert Spencer, in whose philosophical treatises it will be found most ably developed." Lewes remarks : " Such is one of the many profouud con- ceptions with which this great thinker has enriched philoso- phy, and it ought to have finally closed the debate between the a priori and the experiential schools, in so far as both admit a common ground of biological interpretation, though, of course, it leaves the metempirical hypothesis untouched." Spencer saw that this conception affords a solution of the problems of sensorial experience and innate faculties, and is a compromise between Locke's and Kant's school of thought ; between the sensation philosophy and transcendental ideal- ism. With Hume, and against Kant, this view maintains that all knowledge is derived from sensorial experience. But with Kant, and against Hume, it asserts that we are, nevertheless, born with predisposed faculties of thought, which necessarily constitute a preformed recipient and norm for all new experience. As regards the inseparable bond of connection between experiential particulars, it holds that it is, indeed, estab- lished through habit, but by means of generical inherit- ance, and not merely during individual life; that it is, how- ever, certainly not established through the functional play of faculties inherent in mind prior to all experience, indi- vidual or ancestral. Hume ignored completely the existence of anything be- yond consciousness. He does not assume powers outside of us awakening our sensations. He takes account of nothing but vivid aTid faint ideas and their combinations. Spencer, on the contrary, assumes with Kant the existence of a realm external to us that has power to affect our sensibility. But, unlike Kant, who allows these affections to fall chaotically into empty .space and time, and to receive all their signifi- cance solely from the combining, systematizing, and appre- hending power of the intellect, Spencer teaches that the or- der found obtaining among conscious states has been estab- lished by vital and organic adjustment to a corrcsi)onding order obtaining among the forces that constitute existence Herbert Spencer^s Synthetic Philosophy. 93 outside of consciousness. Life, with all its mental as well as vital manifestations, consists with him in the adjustment of internal or subjective relations to external or objective relations. The psychological fact is that the forms are connate, therefore a priori; the psychogenetical fact is that the forms are products of ancestral experience, and therefore a posteriori. Locke was right in claiming that all knowl- edge is ultimately derived from experience, from intercourse between organism and its medium. Kant was right in rec- ognizing the fact that there are definite tendencies or pre- dispositions in the individual at birth. Locke was wrong in denying that there is any element in mind a p)riori to the individual. Kant was wrong in ignoring the results in the individual mind of ancestral experiences. Says Mr. John Fiske : " Though Kant was one of the chief pioneers of the doctrine of evolution, having been the first to propose and to elaborate in detail the theory of the nebular origin of planetary systems, yet the conce23tion of a continuous development of life in all its modes, physi- cal and psychical, was not sufficiently advanced in Kant's day to be adopted into philosophy. Hence, in his treatment of mind, as regards both intelligence and emotion, Kant took what may be called a statical view of the subject ; and finding in the adult, civilized mind, upon the study of which his systems of psychology and ethics were founded, a num- ber of organized moral intuitions and an organized moral sense, which urges men to seek the right and shun the wrong, irrespective of utilitarian considerations of pleasure and pain, he proceeded to deal with these moral intuitions and this moral sense as if they were ultimate facts, incapable of be- ing analyzed into simpler emotional elements. ... So long as the subject is contemplated from a statical point of view, so long as individual experience is studied without reference to ancestral experience, the follower of Katit can always hold his ground against the followers of Locke in ethics as well as in psychology. AVhen the Kantian asserts that the intuitions of right and wrong, as well as the intuitions of time and space, are independent of experience, he occu- pies a position which is impregnable so long as the organi- zation of experiences through successive generations is left out of the discussion. . . . Admitting the truth of the Kantian position that there exists in us a moral sense for analyzing which our individual experience does not afford 94 Herhert Spencer^s Synthetic PliilosojpJiy. the requisite data, and which must therefore be regarded as ultimate for each individual, it is, nevertheless, open to us to inquire into the emotional antecedents of this organized moral sense as indicated in ancestral types of physical life. The inquiry Avill result in the conviction that the moral sense is not ultimate, but derivative, and that it has been built up out of slowly organized experiences of pleasures and pains." Says Dr. Edmund Montgomery, learned in all the schools of philosophic thought : " Philosophy, after twenty-four centuries of most diversified trials, had failed to discover the ways of knowledge. In no manner could it be ade- quately extracted from reason, and just as little could it be fully derived from the senses. Nor had any compromise at all succeeded. Nativism and empiricism remained funda- mentally irreconcilable. Suddenly, however, liglit began to pierce the hitherto immovable darkness. It was Mr. Her- bert Spencer who caught one of those rare revealing glimpses that initiate a new epoch in the history of thought. He saw that the evolution hypothesis furnishes a solution of the controversy between the disciples of Locke and Kant. To us younger thinkers, into whose serious meditations Darwinism entered from the beginning as a potent solvent of many an ancient mystery, this reconciliation of trans- cendentalism and experientialism may have consistently presented itself as an evident corollary from the laws of heredity. But what an achievement for a solitary thinker, aided by no other light than the penetration of his own genius, before Darwinism was current, to discover this deeply hidden secret of nature, which with one stroke dis- closed the true relation of innate and acquired faculties, an enigma over which so many generations of philosophers had pondered in vain ! " Du Bois-Eeymond disputes the priority of this foreshadow- ing insiglit. In his lecture on The Physiology of Exercise he says: " With Mr. Herbert Spencer meeting me in the same thought, which I believe, however, I have more sharply grasped, I deduced on a former occasion how, in such trans- missibility of educationally derived aj^titude, possibly lies the reconciliation of the great antithesis of the theory of knowledge — of the empirical and the innate views." I am not able to Judge as to the justice of Du Bois-Eey- mond's claim, but evidently he had no clear conception of the subject such as alone could have enabled him to make Herlert Spencer^s Synthetic Pliilosopliy, 95 the discovery a consistent part of a scientific theory or a philosophical system. As regards the intimate nature of the ultimate reality represented in consciousness, Spencer, like Kunt, professes complete ignorance. He holds it to be wholly unknowable. Yet, unlike Kant, who derives his God from the existence of the moral law, he concludes that the noumenal power be- hind phenomena, though unknowable, is an all-efBcient Absolute, a First Cause or Supreme Power, from which all natural jjhenomena proceed, they being manifestations of the same. Spencer maintains, with Kant substantially, that external things are known to us only as states of consciousness, alike in their so-called primary and secondary qualities. What things are in themselves can not be represented by feeling. Matter, space, motion, force, all our fundamental ideas are derived from generalizing and abstracting our experiences of resistance — the ultimate material of knowledge — " the primordial, universal, ever-present constituent of conscious- ness." To us, matter is a congeries of qualities — weight, resistance, extension, etc. ; and these are names for different ways in which our consciousness is affected. If we were destitute of sight, touch, smell, taste, and hearing, these qualities would cease to exist, although the external reality which causes these groups of sensations would still exist. To beings organized differently from ourselves — so differ- ently that their mode of being could not be conceived by us — the objective reality might give rise to states of which the word " matter " would to our minds convey no idea. Nevertheless, the fact that we have sensations that come and go independently of our volitions is evidence of something that determines them. The doctrine of the relativity of knowledge necessitates the postulation of an unknowable existence beyond consciousness. Aerial vibrations communicated to the acoustic nerve give rise to the sensation known as sound. Without a nerve of hearing there can be no sound ; for sound is a sensible phenomenon and not something external to the hearer. Color is also a subjective affection; and particular colors depend upon the particular velocities of the waves of atten- uated matter gathered together by the optical apparatus of the eye, and which impinge upon the retina, affecting the optic nerve and giving rise to what appear objectively as colors — blue, green, violet, etc. — but which are known to be 96 Herlert Spe7ice7'''s Synthetic Pliilosophy. sensations or conscious states. In some persons, vibrations as different in velocity as those which commonly cause red- ness and greenness awaken identical sensations. Luminous- ness is a sensation produced by the action of waves of ether upon the retina and fibers of the optic nerve. This sensa- tion may also be produced by a blow or by electricity, which, singularly enough, while it causes luminous phenomena through the eye, brought in contact with other parts gives rise to quite different sensations — sounds in the ear, taste in the mouth, ticklings in the tactile nerves. That tastes and odors are not intrinsic in things with which we associate them is very evident. The sweetness of sugar and the fragrance of the rose are sensations in us caused by these objects, the one appreciated by the sense of taste, the other by the sense of smell. Heat, too, is a sensation, and is conceivable objectively only as a mode of motion. Another quality which we ascribe to things is hardness ; but hardness can not be intelligently conceived except as a feeling. When we say that a stone is hard we mean that, if we press against it, we experience a sensation of touch, a feeling of resistance, which is designated by the word " hardness." To illustrate that both hardness and form be- long to the groups of our conscious states which we call sensations of sight and touch Huxley observes : " If the sur- face of the cornea were cylindrical we should have a very different notion of a round body from that which we possess now ; and if the strength of the fabric and the force of the muscles of the body were increased a hundredfold, our mar- ble would seem to be as soft as a pellet of bread crumbs." What we call impenetrability is the consciousness of exten- sion and the consciousness of resistance constantly accom- panying one another. What we call extension is a con- sciousness of relation between two or more coexistent states produced through the sense of sight or the sense of touch. Even the conception of vibrations among particles of mat- ter, mentioned above as objective factors in the i)roduction of sound and color, is but an inference from states of con- sciousness caused in us by vibrations which have been ap- preciated by the optic or tactile nerves ; in other words, by subjective experiences produced in us by some unknown cause. Thus, what are popularly believed to be qualities and states of matter — sound, color, odor, taste, hardness, exten- sion, and motion — are names for different ways in which Herlert Spencer^s Synthetic Pliilosopliy. 97 our consciousness is affected; and, were "we destitute of hearing, sight, smell, taste, and touch, the supposed quali- ties of matter would not, so far as we can know or conceive, have any existence whatever, for by psychological analysis they are reducible to states of consciousness. As to space and time, whether we regard them with Kant as forms of sensibility belonging to the subject and not to the object, or adopt Spencer's theory that space is the ab- stract of all relations of position among coexistent states of consciousness or the blank form of all these relations, and that time is the abstract of all relations of position among successive states of consciousness or the blank form in which they are presented and represented, and that both classes of relations are predetermined in the individual, so far as the inherited organization is developed, when it comes into acti^^ty, while both have been developed in the race and are resolvable into relations, coexistent and sequent, between sub- ject and object as disclosed by the act of touch — whichever of these theories we adopt or whatever theory be affirmed, still we know sj^ace and time only as subjective forms, not as external realities. Both space relations and time rela- tions vary with structural organization, position, vital activ- ity, mental development, and condition. How great in childhood seemed the height and mass of buildings which now seem small or of but moderate size ! How long the days seemed when we were young ! How short now! How rapidly time passes in agreeable company, how slowly in waiting for a delayed train ! That there is equality or likeness between our differently estimated lengths of distance or duration — but so many variations of subjective relations — and any nexus of external things there is no reason to believe. Inability to banish from the mind the idea of space illus- trates Spencer's prime test of truth — viz., the inconceiva- bility of the negation of a proposition. " If space be an universal form of the non-cfjo, it must produce some corre- sponding universal form of the ego — a form which, as being the constant element of all impressions presented in experi- ence, and therefore of all im]n'essions rej)resented in thought, is independent of every jjcniicular impression ; and conse- quently remains when every particular impression is as far as possible banished." Space intuitions are " the fixed func- tions of fixed structures that have become molded into corre- S2)ondence with fixed outer relations " pre-established so far 8 98 Herhert Spencefs Synthetic PJiilosophy. as the inherited organization is developed at the time it comes into activity. Thus the consciousness of space is reached through a process of evolution. But does not the mind possess a synthetic power by which it can put together the materials furnished by the senses, and thus enable us to realize and understand the objective world as it actually exists? Is there not in the mind a faculty by which we can discover relations as they are be- yond consciousness ? If we do not know the nature of nou- menal existence, we can not know anything about its rela- tions. Kant dwelt upon this subject for years ; and, although he believed in an existence transcending sense and under- standing, the conclusion of his years of laborious thought was that we can only put together the materials furnished by the senses, and that we can know nothing of the world as it exists, unmodified by and independent of conscious- ness. To the same conclusion, after years of profound thought, came Herbert Spencer. Mr. Spencer holds that things in themselves are not per- ceived, yet that they correspond with perceptions, and are known symbolically only ; that " there exist beyond con- sciousness conditions of objective manifestation which are symbolized by relations as we conceive them." The object- ive existences and conditions which remain as the final necessity of thought arc tlie correlatives of our feelings and the relations between them. There is no valid reason for the belief that the objective existence is what it appears to be, nor for the belief that the connections among its modes are what they seem in consciousness. There is congruity, but not resemblance, between the external and the internal order. " Inner thoughts," says Spencer, " answer to outer things in such wise that cohesions in the one correspond to persist- ences in the other," but this correspondence is only sym- bolical. Such, briefly stated, is the view which, in distinc- tion to crude realism and idealism, is called Transfigured Realism. " It recognizes," to quote again from the great thinker, "an external, independent existence which is the cause of changes in consciousness, while the effects it works in consciousness constitute the perception of it ; and the inference is that tlie knowledge constituted by these effects can not be a knowledge of that which causes them, but can only imply its existence. May it not be said that in thus in- terpreting itself subjective existence makes definite that dif- ferentiation from objective existence which has been going Herbert Spencerh Synthetic Philosophy. 99 on from the beginning of evolution ? " (Spencer's Principles of Psychology, vol. ii, p. 555.) What may be called, with propriety, Relationism, the doc- trine that we know objective relations as they actually exist, belongs to crude realism, and it has no philosophical basis whatever. The theory that the intellect alone constitutes relations, that we intellectually reconstitute and therefore understand the relations making up the noumenal constitu- tion of things, is an old conception, sometimes put forward in these later days as original, in a phraseology which at first makes difficult the immediate discovery of its identity with a system that has been weighed in the balance and found wanting. One of these relational philosophers main- tains that space relations belong to the noumenal world. But these are relations constituted by the facts of sensibility, and the theorist referred to does not allow sensibility to contribute to knowledge. He can not, therefore, consist- ently maintain that space relations are knowingly apper- ceived by us. Although there seems to be almost a complete unanimity among the great thinkers of the world that we can form no conception of the objective world apart from the conditions imposed upon it by our intelligence, and that changes of consciousness are the materials out of which our knowledge is entirely built, let no one hastily conclude that there is anything in this position inimical to, or inconsistent with, what is called " objective science." Prof. Huxley, one of the greatest of living scientists and a philosophic thinker of no mean ability, pursuing the " scientific method " with which he is supposed to be well acquainted, comes to the conclusion " that all the phenomena are, in tlieir ultimate analysis, known to us only as facts of consciousness." George Henry Lewes, eminent as a physiologist and psy- chologist, as well as a remarkably acute analytical thinker, declares, in his Problems of Life and Mind : " Wliether we affirm the objective existence of something distinct from the affections of consciousness or affirm that this object is simply a reflection from consciousness, in either case we declare that the objective world is to each man the sum of his vis- ionary experience — an existence bounded on all sides by wliat he feels and thinks — a form sliaped by the reaction of his organism. The world is the sum total of phenomena, and phenomena are affections of consciousness with exter- nal signs " (vol. i, p. 183). 100 Herlert Speiicer^s Synthetic PliilosopJiy. Dr. Maudsley, the distinguished physiologist, who is no more than Spencer or Lewes a subjectivist or idealist — who, indeed, is commonly regarded as a materialist — says : "After all, the world which we apprehend when we are aAvake may have as little resemblance or relation to the external world, of which we can have no manner of apprehension through our senses, as the dream-world has to the world with which our senses make us acquainted ; nay, perhaps less, since there is some resemblance in the latter case, and there may be none whatever in the former. . . . The external world as it is in itself may not be in the least what we conceive it through our forms of perception and modes of thought. No prior experience of it has ever been so much as possible ; and therefore the analogy of the dreamer is altogether de- fective in that respect" (Body and AVill, p. 51). Now Mr. Spencer's conclusions from relativity are in or- der. He says : " If, after finding that the same tepid water may feel warm to one hand and cold to another, it is in- ferred that warmth is relative to our nature and our own state, the inference is valid, only supposing the activity to which these different sensations are referred is an activity out of ourselves, which has not been modified by our own activities. " When we are taught that a piece of matter, regarded by us as existing externally, can not be really known, but that we can know only certain impressions produced on us, we are yet, by the relativity of our thought, compelled to think of a positive cause. The notion of a real existence which generated these impressions becomes nascent. The momen- tum of thought inevitably carries us beyond conditioned existence to unconditioned existence ; and this ever persists in us as the body of a thought to which we can give no shape. ... At the same time that, by the laws of thought, we are rigorously prevented from forming a conception of absolute existence, we are, by the laws of thought, prevent- ed from ridding ourselves of the consciousness of absolute existence, this unconsciousness being, as we see, the obverse of absolute existence" (First Principles, p. 390). The absolute existence, then, can be known only as it is manifested in consciousness, only as it is colored and modi- fied, so to speak, by the conditions of the organism. It can not be identified with what we call matter, for tliat we know only as a series of ])henomenal manifestations, or, psycho- logically speaking, only as the coexistent states of conscious- Herlert S_penccr''s Synthetic Philosophy. 101 ness, whicli "we call resistance, extension, color, sound, or odor. It can not be identified with mind, for that we know only as the series of our own states of consciousness. Says Spencer : " If I am asked to frame a notion of mind, divested of all those structural traits under which alone I am conscious of mind in myself, I can not do it. . . . If, then, I have to conceive evolution as caused by an ' originat- ing mind,' I must conceive this mind as having attributes akin to those of the only mind I know, and without which I can not conceive mind at all. ... I can not think of a single series of states of consciousness as causing even the relatively small groups of action going on over the earth's surface. . . . How, then, is it possible for me to conceive an ' original mind,' which I must represent to myself as a single series of states of consciousness, working the infinitely multiplied sets of changes simultaneously going on in worlds too numerous to count, dispersed throughout a space that baffles imagination? If to account for this infinitude of changes evervwhere going on ' mind ' must be conceived as there under the guise of simple dynamics, then the reply is that, to be so conceived, mind must be divested of all attri- butes by which it is distinguished, and that when thus divested of its distinguishing attributes the conception dis- appears, the word ' mind ' stands for a blank." According to Spencer, force, matter, space, time, motion, are but forms which the indeterminate substance assumes in consciousness. But matter and movement he reduces — as is sufficiently evident from the foregoing — to manifesta- tions of force ; and space and time are cohesions — one of coexistence, the other of succession — in the manifestations of force. Force then remains the primary datum, but that we know only as states of consciousness — in other words, as the changes in us produced by an absolute reality of which in itself we know nothing. It may be well to illustrate a little more fully that, ac- cording to Spencer, we know matter only as co-existent states of consciousness : " A Avhiff of ammonia coming in contact with the eyes produces a smart, getting into the nostrils excites the consciousness we described as an intolerably strong odor, being condensed on the tongue generates an acrid taste, while ammonia applied in solution to a tender part of the skin makes it burn, as we say." This illustra- tion from Spencer's Principles of Psychology shows that one and the same external agency produces in us different 103 Herlert Spencer's Synthetic Pliilosophy, sensations, according to the avenues through which it affects our consciousness. Which of these feelings, so widely dif- ferent, does the external cause resemble ? Probably none of them. What it is, independently of consciousness, we never can know, owing to limitations imposed by the very constitution of the human mind. The effects produced on our consciousness — different feel- ings — can be compared and classified ; but how can we com- pare and classify that of which nothing can be known ? Knowledge consists in the classification of experiences. We observe distinctions existing between phenomena, and group together those that are similar. Anything newly dis- covered is known only when it can be classed with some other thing which is known ; in other words, only when the impressions it produces can be recognized as belonging to an existing group of impressions. " Whence it is manifest that a thing is perfectly known when it is in all respects like certain things previously observed ; that in proportion to the number of respects in which it is unlike them is the extent to which it is unknown ; and that hence, when it has absolutely no attribute in common with anything else, it must be absolutely beyond the bounds of knowledge." With- out distinction, which implies limitation, of course, knowl- edge would be impossible. All that we can compare and classify are phenomena, between which are distinguishable various degrees of likeness and unlikeness. These phenom- ena are effects produced in us by that which is manifested objectively as matter and force, and subjectively as feeling and thought. We can think of matter only in terms of mind, as, indeed, we can think of mind only in terms of matter. I^hat of which both are manifestations can not be known. " The antithesis of subject and object," says Spen- cer, " never to be transcended while consciousness lasts, ren- ders impossible all knowledge of that ultimate reality in which subject and object are united." There are those who, after making use of the doctrine of the relativity of knowledge to prove that we know only our conscious states, deny or question the existence of any ob- jective reality that produces these states. But relativity Implies object as well as subject, and it would have no meaning unless there were existence, known only as it affects us and unknown as pure object. The statement that a house of a certain size, form, color, etc., is what it is con- ceived to be only in relation to consciousness, implies that Herbert Spencer^s SyntTietic Philosophy. 103 there is something beyond consciousness that exists per se, and that, as such, it is unknown. The statement that knowl- edge is relative involves the statement that there is absolute existence — existence that does not depend upon our con- sciousness, and of which we know only its effects upon us. If, in asserting the relativity of knowledge, we do not postu- late absolute existence, the relative itself becomes absolute ; and that involves a contradiction of the doctrine of rela- tivity — the very indisputable doctrine by which the so-called qualities of matter are shown to be sensible phenomena. An oyster is conceived as having some vague sort of con- sciousness of its environment. In this consciousness man is not included. If we conceive the oyster as a creature out of whose consciousness we exist, is it not a trifle absurd to say that there is no objective reality ; that our conception of the oyster, instead of being the product of tlie co-opera- tion of the mind with an external something, is only one of the modifications of ourselves, uncaused by anything ex- isting objectively ; and that, therefore, the oyster exists only in our own minds? And other human beings than our- selves can only be regarded as but so many modifications of our own consciousness. The truth is that, while we know- directly only our own conscious states — the material out of which is woven all thought — we know by inference other human beings, although, of course, relatively only; and that which is not known is the reality which awakens in us all similarly perceptive activity. The conviction " that human intelligence is incapable of absolute knowledge," says Spencer, " is one that has been slowly gaining ground as civilization has advanced. . . . All possible conceptions have been, one by one, tried and found wanting ; and so the entire field of speculation has been gradually exhausted without positive result, the only one arrived at being the negative one above stated — that the reality existing behind all appearances is, and must ever be, unknown. To this conclusion almost every thinker of note has subscribed. 'With the exception,' says Sir AVilliam Hamilton, ' of a few late absolutist theorizers in Germany, this is, perhaps, the truth of all others most harmoniously re-echoed by every philosopher of every school.' " To Herbert Spencer belongs the great credit of having formulated the principles of universal evolution and shown that what von Baer demonstrated to be true in the develop- ment of an animal is true of worlds, of all life, of society, 104 Herbert Speucer^s Synthetic PhilosopJiy. of all thought, of language, religion, literature, government, art, science, philosophy, etc, — viz., that progress is from a homogeneous, indefinite, incoherent condition to the hetero- geneous, definite, and coherent condition. The rhythm of evolution and dissolution, completing itself during short periods in small aggregates, and in the vast aggregate dis- tributed through space completing itself in periods which are immeasurable by human thought, is, so far as we can see, universal and eternal, each alternating phase of the pro- cess predominating, now in this region of space, and now in that, as local conditions determine. Von Baer, and doubtless others before Spencer, had glimpses of this law beyond its application to organic de- velopment, but it required the cyclopffidiac knowledge, ])hilo- sophic genius, and synthetical powers of a Spencer to illus- trate and prove the law of universal evolution, as it re- quired a Darwin to establish the principle of natural selec- tion. Von Baer, as a writer in the Encyclopa.Hlia Britannica says, " prepared the way for Mr Spencer's generalization of the law of organic evolution as the law of all evolution." But this fact no more lessens the credit due Spencer for his great contributions to thought tlian the fact that many investigators prepared the way for Darwin's researches di- minishes the credit to which the great naturalist is fairly entitled. " A great method is always within the perception of many," says De Morgan, " before it is within the grasp of one." Prof. Owen, the paleontologist, expressed himself, in correspondence with the editor of the London Review, 80 as to convey the impression — which he afterward said was not intended — that he claimed to have promulgated the theory of natural selection before Darwin had done so. This led Darwin to say : " As far as the mere enunciation of the principle of natural selection is concerned, it is quite immaterial whether or not Prof. Owen preceded me, for both of us, as shown in this historical sketch, were long ago preceded by Dr. Wells and Mr. iMathew." Darwin quotes even from Aristotle's Physical Auscultations, and adds: " We here see the princi])le of natural selection shadowed forth," etc. Doubtless many had thouf;jht of the principle of natural selection, but they lacked the knowledge to under- stand it with its many implications, the wonderful powers of patient observation and laborious experimental investiga- tion necessary to the study of details, and the verification Herbert Spencer^ s Synthetic Philosophy. 105 of what "was conjectured or but dimly perceived, as well as the wonderful powers of generalization required to classify the multitude of facts and bring them together in a com- prehensive unity so as to make clear and certain the princi- ple underlying them. These qualifications were possessed in an eminent degree by Darwin, and they enabled him to prove what others had but imagined — to show that natural selection was a great factor in evolution, and to put or- ganic evolution upon an impregnable foundation. But Dar- win's work would not have been possible if the labors of others had not led up to them, and the acceptance of evo- lution would have remained confined to but a few if the scientific mind had not been, through the work of others, prepared for the change. Bufion, Lamarck, Geoffroy Saint- Hilaire, Goethe, Erasmus Darwin, the author of the Ves- tiges, with others, are entitled to the credit of having helped to prepare the way for Darwin's work and for the adoption, with comparatively little ojiposition, of the doctrine of de- velopment in the place of belief in special creations. Yet Darwin's name will be forever identified with natural selec- tion. And as Prof. Youmans says : " The same ethical canons of research . . . which gave to Copernicus the glory of the heliocentric astronomy, to Newton that of the law of gravi- tation, to Harvey that of the circulation of the blood, to Priestley that of the discovery of oxygen, and to Darwin that of natural selection, will also give to Herbert Spencer the honor of having first elucidated and established the law of universal evolution." Prof. Huxley, in his Survey of Fifty Years of Progress, says : " Evolution as a philosophical doctrine applicable to all phenomena, whether physical or mental, whether mani- fested by material atoms or by men in society, has been dealt with systematically in the Synthetic Philosophy of Mr. Herbert Spencer. Comment on that great undertaking would not be in place here. I mention it because, so far as I know, it is the first attempt to deal on scientific princi- ples with modern scientific facts and speculations. For the Philosophic Positive of M. Comte, with which Mr. Spencer's system of philosophy is sometimes compared, al- though it professes a similar object, is unfortunately per- meated by a thoroughly unscientific spirit, and its author had no adequate acquaintance with the physical science even of his own time." lOG Herlert Spencer's Sijnihdid Philosophy. . I will now endeavor to give a brief synopsis of Mr. Spen- per's doctrine of evolution. 1. Under the appearances which the universe presents to our senses, there persists, unchanging in quantity but ever changing in form and ever transcending human knowledge and conception, an unknown and unknowable power or real- ity, which we are obliged to recognize as without limit in space and without beginning or end in time. Matter, motion, space, and time are forms which the un- knowable reality assumes in consciousness. Matter and motion are manifestations of force, and space and time are cohesions — one of coexistence, the other of succession — in the manifestation of force. Force, then, is the primary da- tum, but that we only know as states of consciousness ; in other words, as the changes in us produced by an unknow- able reality, of which our conceptions of matter and mo- tion are symbols. That which appears to be, outside of con- sciousness, as matter and force, is the same _ as that Avhich appears in consciousness as thought and feeling. In Spen- cer's own language: "A power of which the nature re- mains forever inconceivable, and to which no limit in time and space can be imagined, works in us certain effects. These effects have certain likenesses of kind, the most gen- eral of which we class under the names of matter and force, and between these effects there are likenesses of kind, the most constant of which we class as laws of the highest certainty." 2. The field of science and philosophy is in the phenome- nal world. It is the function of philosophy to give to knowl- edge a unity that shall comprehend the fundamental truths of all the sciences, as the general definitions and proposi- tions of each include all the diversified phenomena of its recognized province. The sciences deal with different orders of phenomena, and their formulae are those which express the changes and relations of these orders respectively. Phi- losophy is a synthesis of all these sciences into a universal system. 3. Force is persistent, and is revealed to us under the two opposite modes of attraction and expansion — in the ceaseless redistribution of matter and motion, wliich extends tlirough- out tiie universe, involving, on the one hand, the integra- tion of matter and the dissipation of motion, and on the other a disintegration of matter and aljsorption of motion. 4. Where the integration of matter and the dissipation Herhert Spencefs Synthetic Philosophy. 107 of motion predominate, there is evolution. Where there is a predominant disintegration of matter and absorption of motion, there is dissolution. In that portion of the universe observable by us attraction predominates now, as seen in the integration of matter and the evolution of forms. In other regions expansion may exceed attraction, dissolution may predominate over evolution. In ages inconceivably remote, the elements of our system, now undergoing evolution, were doubtless subject to the opposite process. Every condition grows out of pre-existent conditions. 5. Of beginning there is no indication. The evolution of a world from the " chaos " of star-dust involves a " begin- ning " only as the formation of a crystal from the " chaos " of a solution implies a beginning. There is, according to Spencer's philosophy, as little need of a " supernatural fac- tor " to explain evolution as there is to explain the opposite process, dissolution; and one is as little indication of a " beginning " as the other, except the word " beginning " be applied to certain rhythms of motion, certain manifesta- tions of force, certain forms of matter, which, nevertheless, were preceded by and sprang from other rhytlims, manifes- tations, and forms, all due to and dependent upon self-ex- istent, inscrutable power. As Spencer said, in reply to a critic : " The affirmation of a universal evolution is in itself the negation of an ' absolute commencement ' of anything. Construed in ' terms of evolution, every kind of being is conceived as a product of modifications, wrought by insensible gradations on a pre-existing kind of being; and this holds as fully of the supposed ' commencement of organic life ' as of all subsequent development of organic life." 6. When the formation of an aggregate proceeds uncom- plicated by secondary processes, as in the crystallization of carbon into a diamond, evolution is simple. 7. When, in tlie process of evolution, there are secondary rearrangements of matter, and sufficient retained motion to admit a redistribution among the parts of the body — as, for instance, in the growth of an animal — there is exemplified not only the integration of matter and the dissipation ofi motion, the primary law of evolution, but also an increase' of complexity. When this is accompanied with increased coherence, definiteness, and mutual dependence of parts, and the subordination of the parts to the movements of the whole structure, there is progress. Thus we have evolution 108 Herlert Spencer's Syntlietic Pliilosophy. as a double process— a movement toward unity as well as diversity. -, • mi. The following is from an article which appeared m ihe Index (Boston), in 1880, in which I reviewed at consider- able length Prof. Van Buren Denslow's essay on Herbert Spencer, contained in his work entitled Modern Thinkers : Prof Denslow says : " Given space, matter, force, motion, and time as the factors, would all progress be found to consist in evolution of forra^ organisms, motions, and activities from the homogeneous or simple into the heterogeneous ? It must be conceded that the array of instances in which this is true dazzles and almost bewilders the im- a'-ination by its variety and beauty. ... But if it shall appear that each instance he (Spencer) adduces as an illustration of differentiation of the simple into the complex also illustrates a unification of previ- ously differentiated and diverse elements into one simple and homo- geneous entitv or substance, is it quite clear that we have made an^ advance in our knowledge of the principles of universal science il (pp. 218, 222). , ^ o . To strengthen his objection, the author selects one of Spencer s own illustrations, f urnislied bv the differentiation of the bean seed " into vine, leaf, blossom, and ultimately the new fruit," and calls attention to what he declares is a fact— that this process equally illustrates the unification of diverse elements into one homogeneous substance. That in the growth of the bean plant diverse elements are united in one structure is verv evident ; but the correctness of characterizing as a " homoo-eneous entitv" a complex production, in which several ele- ments united in different proportions have produced all the variety afforded by the root, vine, leaf, blossom, and fruit of a bean plant, is by no means apparent. On the contrary, a bean plant is, in substance, as well as in form and activitv, a very heterogeneous stracture. ihe chemical differentiations produced in plants generally by rearrange- ments of the chemical elements and by modification of tissues and organs are well described bv Spencer. " In plants," he observes, " the albuminous and amylaceous matters •which form the substance of the embryo give origin here to a pre- ponderance of chlorophvU and there to a preponderance of cellulose. Over the parts that are bocorning leaf-surfaces, certain of the materials are metamorphosed into wax. In this place, starch passes into one of its isomeric equivalents, sugar, and in that place into another of its isomeric equivalents, gum. Bv secondary changes, some of the cellu- lose is modified into wood, while some of it is modified into the allied substance, which in large masses we distinguish as cork. And the more numerous compounds thus gradually arising initiate further un- likenesses bv mingling in unlike ratios." (First Principles.) In the inorganic world there are compound substances, like water, produced bv the union of different elements, whicli to all appearances are liomogeneous as to substance ; but we nnist not expect to find such homogcneitv in highlv evolved organisms like the bean plant. And how the integration o^ a number of diverse elements into one structure diminishes the weight of Spencer's claims it is not easy to see. Spencer's primary law of evolution is not, as Prof. Denslow seems to Herlert Spencer's Synthetic Pliilosojyhy. 109 think, change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, but the in- tegration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion, which vre see exemplified in the concentration of units that form a crystal as well as in the combination of elements that compose the structure of a complex organism. And consider a moment how the integration of matter, the combinations of several elements into one body, gives rise to heterogeneity and differentiation in the inorganic as well as in the organic world. Think of the different combinations and transposi- tions of which the elements admit, and the multitude of substances thus produced. Add a molecule of carbon to a hundred molecules of iron, and a peculiar hardness is produced by the conversion of the iron into steel. Carbon in variously proportioned combinations with oxy- gen and nitrogen develops the several properties of wood, fruits, grain, grasses, tobacco, and opium. Carbon united with oxygen as carbonic-acid gas combines with molecules of the metal calcium in forming lime-rocks and marbles, the bones of animals, and beautiful translucent pearls. A triple alliance of molecules of hydrogen, oxygen, and carbon imparts a wonderful diversity of proportion to a multi- tude of organic substances, as wood, vegetable oil, animal flesh, and fat. Hydrogen molecules united with oxygen are converted into acids, and, combined with nitrogen, are converted into alkaloids, as in the formation of ammonia. If the proportion of molecules of nitrogen and oxygen in the atmosphere, composed by weight of nitrogen seventy-seven and of oxygen twenty-three, be reversed to oxygen seventy-seven and nitrogen twenty-three, nitric acid is developed. Vinegar, burnt sugar, butter, animal fat, nutmeg oil, are all composed of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen in different proportions. Opium and quinine contain the same elements in different proportions. It is un- necessary to multiply illustrations to show that the union of diverse elements" in different proportions gives us compounds more or less homogeneous in substance, but all differentiated from one another as to substance as well as in form and motion. The number of such sub- stances is limited only by the inconceivably immense number of com- binations and varving proportions in which between sixty and seventy elements may unite. So the combination of heterogeneous elements in substances less heterogeneous is a process by which variety, differ- entiation, and heterogeneity, in substance as well as in form, have been produced. Bv this process has grown, from a nebulous mass, a planet with all its variety of water, land, and sky. fitted for the habita- tion of living creatures', themselves an exemplification of the same process. It is the primary law of evolution, 8, In the process of evolution, increase of heterogeneity results from " the multiplication of effects," for in "actions and reaction of force and matter an uulikeness of either of the factors necessitates an unlikeness of the effects," All parts of a body can not be conditioned precisely alike with reference to the en-vironment, since the parts must be sub- ject to unlike forces and to different intensities of the same force. Exemplifications of the instability of the homogene- ous are afforded by the rusting of iron, the uneven cooling 110 Herhert Spencer's Syntlietic Philosophy. of molten lead or sulphur, and the impossibility of keeping a body of water free from currents. Tlie more heterogene- ous a body becomes, the more rapid the multiplication of effects. Every event which involves the decomposition of force into several forces produces greater complication and increased heterogeneity ; and, when this process of differen- tiation combines with the process of integration to make the change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous at the same time as that from the indefinite to the definite, we have compound evolution. Mere increase of heterogeneity and multiformity of parts does not constitute progress. A cancer introduces into an organism changes that make it more heterogeneous, yet it may cause death. The anarchy resulting from a revolution makes a state more heterogene- ous, yet it may be the precursor of its dissolution. The law of passage from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is a law of progress, but not the law of progress. The primary law of progress (or evolution, which in his later works Spencer substitutes for the word " progress ") is the inte- gration of matter and the concomitant dissipation of mo- tion, which is alike exhibited in the crystallization of carbon into a diamond and the growth of an animal from a germ ; but when, as in the field of biology, there is with continual integration of matter increasing heterogeneity of form, progress is possible only when there is also increasing co- herence, detinitencss, and mutual dependence of parts and a subordination of the various parts and manifold functions to the movements of the whole structure. Cancers produce differentiation ; but, as they can not be integrated in har- mony with the rest of the body, they result not in progress but in death. Thus it is seen that evolution is a double process — a movement toward unity as well as diversity. In- tegration, the primary process, under certain conditions the most completely realized by organic bodies, is accompanied by a complementary process from indefinite, incoherent homogeneity to definite coherent heterogeneity. Variety increases with the unity it accomplishes. The evolution of an animal from an egg or a tree from a seed occurs by the integration of various elements into a complex structure, in which at the same time go on continual differentiations and local integrations, making the whole a compact aggregate that presents great iieterogeneity in itself and at the same time a wide differentiation from all other aggregates. 9. The field of this compound evolution is among bodies Herhert Spencer^s Synthetic Pliilosopliy. Ill of differing densities, between gases wherein the molecular motion is too rapid to admit of a structural arrangement, and solids in which the amount of retained motion is too small to admit of molecular rearrangement. Spencer ob- serves : " A large amount of secondary redistribution is possi- ble only where there is a great quantity of retained motion ; and, on the other hand, these distributions can have promi- nence only when the contained motion has become small, opposing conditions that seem to negative any large amount of secondary redistribution." It is in organic bodies " that these apparently contradictory conditions are reconciled," for their peculiarity consists in the concentration of matter in a high degree with a far larger amount of molecular mo- tion tlian is found in other bodies of the same degree of concentration. 10. All living forms have been evolved in accordance with the above-mentioned laws. The most complex are the product of modifications wrought on pre-existent animals. The, evolution of species goes on, not in ascending lineal series, but by continual divergence and redivergence. Com- plexity of life and intelligence is correlated with complexity of structure. The highest form of intelligence, the human, has been reached by modifications wrought through ages upon pre-existing intelligences. 11. The mental faculties of man, not less than his brain and nervous system, are the product of innumerable modi- fications in the evolution of the highest creatures from the lowest. Experiences registered in the nervous system produce structural changes and are accompanied by mental modifi- cations. The aptitudes and intuitions of the human mind are the product of accumulated human experiences, trans- mitted and organized in the race. Even the " a priori forms of thought " have been slowly acquired. Whatever in the mind transcends the experience of the individual is never- theless the product of ancestral experiences. 12. Not only is it true that our highest conceptions of morality have been evolved in accordance with these laws, but even the moral sense has been formed by accumulated and multiplied experiences, registered in the slowly evolving organism and transmitted as intuition, as sensitive in some persons to a moral wrong as the tactile sense is to the sting of a bee. The ultimate basis of morality is the source of all phenomena, " an inscrutable power," as John Fiske well 112 Herlert Spencer's Sijiitlietic Philosophy. says, " of which the properties of matter and motion necessi- tating the process of evolution, with pain and wrong as its concomitants, are the phenomenal manifestations." 13. The religious sentiment, equally with the moral sense, has been evolved through psychical conditions represented by all the stages of life below man. The object of religious sentiment is the unknowable reality. The essential truth of religion is involved in a recognition of an absolute upon which all phenomena depend, while its fundamental error begins with investing this reality with anthropomorphic qualities. 14. All conceptions and systems, philosophical, ethical, and religious ; language, government, poetry, art, science, philosophy, and industrial pursuits; all human activities, equally with animal and vegetable forms, plants, solar and stellar systems — have been evolved from a homogeneous, indefinite, and incoherent condition to a heterogeneous, definite, and coherent state. Such is the merest abstract, and a very imperfect one, of the doctrine of evolution as maintained by Herbert Spencer. The doctrine of the unknowable is unwelcome to theolo- gians generally and to those theologically inclined, because it is opposed to all systems and theories based upon the as- sumption of the knowledge of God— his nature, attributes, purpose, etc. It is opposed by others of anti-theological views, because they think, especially when they see Unknow- able printed with the initial letter a capital, that it implies the existence of a God more or less like the theological conception which they have renounced. Both classes may, when they come to appreciate fully the reasoning by which the conclusion has been reached by men like Kant and Spencer, reconsider more carefully their objections, and adopt the view in which are united all that is tenable m the affirmation of the theist with all that is warranted m tlie criticism of the atheist. ^ One anti-theological writer characterizes Spencer s thought as a " spook " philosophy ; on the other hand, an idealist, a disciple of the late Prof. Thomas Hill (Jrecn, m the hitest num])er of the Journal of Speculative Philosophy (date, January, 1888), speaks of " the philoso])hy of scientific ma- terialism and agnosticism, of which Mr. Herbert Spencer is the most di.stiugiii.shod exponent," of the "full-Hedged scientific materialistic i)liikjsoi)hy of Lewes and Spencer and their adjutants," ignoring the fact that in Spencers phi- Herbert Sjpeyicefs Synthetic Philosophy. 113 losopliy conceptions of matter and motion are treated merely as symbols of an ultimate reality which is manifested be- yond consciousness as matter and motion and in conscious- ness as feeling and thought. Some writers have character- ized Spencer's philosophy by the word dualism, to make it appear to be in opposition to what they call " monism," whereas Mr, Spencer is thoroughly monistic, since, as he says : " I recognize no forces within the organism or with- out the organism but the variously conditional modes of the universal immanent force ; and the whole process of organic evolution is everywhere attributed by me to the co- operation of its variously conditioned modes, internal and external." Quite a common impression is that the doctrine that all knowledge is relative, that we can not know the absolute, carries with it the implication somehow that there is no possibility of any plane of intelligent existence except that known. There is nothing in the doctrine of the " absolute " or the " unknowable," as expounded either by Kant or Spencer, that is inconsistent with the continuance of life under other conditions than those of the present state of being. There is nothing in this doctrine which implies that man does not survive physical death or that there are not higher planes of existence than are known here. The philosophy of the absolute or the unknowable merely teaches that all knowledge is relative, that in perception there are two fac- tors — the mind and the objective reality — and that, instead of actually perceiving the objective reality as it absolutely is, the mind perceives a phenomenon, an appearance, a repre- sentation symbolical of and corresponding with, but not a likeness of, the objective thing. The " substratum " of men- tal phenomena is no more known tlian is that of physical phenomena. As Daniel Greenleaf Thompson says : " The truth is, we are forced by the laws of cognition to postulate an unknown reality behind the known reality, both of mat- ter and mind, a dark side of the material world and of in- telligence, an imperceptible substantive being, out of which somehow comes the perceptible, and into which it disap- pears, a source of both material and mental phenomena, a cause of their effects, a permanent in which alone change is possible, a possibility for all actualities and a power which transcends knowledge but which is presupposed iu all knowledge. This is the meaning of the paradox." 9 114 Herhert Spencer^s Syiithetic Philosopliy. This philosophy does not make conceivability, much less sensibility, the test of possibility. On the contrary, it recog- nizes the fact that there are many motions of the universe to which the dull senses of man make no response whatever. There are a great number and variety of movements of which sense-bound beings can take no cognizance. With superior sensorial perceptions man would be able to discern many of these movements which are now incognizable. "Indeed," says Tyndall in the Eeade Lectures on Eadiant Heat, " the domain of the senses in Nature is almost infi- nitely small in comparison with the vast region accessible to thought which lies beyond them. From a few observa- tions of a comet when it comes within the range of his tele- scope, an astronomer can calculate its path in regions which no telescope can reach ; and in like manner, by means of data furnished in the narrow world of the senses, we make ourselves at home in other and wider worlds, which can be traversed by the intellect alone." And Lewes remarks to the same purport : " We do not actually experience through feeling a tithe of what we firmly believe and can demonstrate to intuition. The invisi- ble is like the snow at the North Pole; no human eye has beheld it, but the mind is assured of its existence ; and is, moreover, convinced that if the snow exists there, it has the properties found elsewhere. Nor is the invisible confined to objects which have never been presented to sense, al- though they may be presented on some future occasion ; it also comprises objects beyond even this possible range, be- yond all practicable extension of sense." But however extended is man's knowledge, it is always knowledge possessed under the conditions of knowing, which include a relation between the me and the not-me, and percejjtion and thought according to the mental consti- tution. As Mr. E. D. Fawcet says, Kant, who denied that the mind couid know things in themselves, "expressed himself favorable to the view that a world of supersensuous beings environs this planet, and that tlie establishment of commu- nication with such beings is only a matter of .time. Kant indeed was far too acute not to see that a speculative agnos- ticism (shutting out the possibility of al)solute knowledge of realities) can not possibly assert that there is no plane of relative or phenomenal experience except that called the physical world. Contrariwise, there may be innumerable Herbert Spencer^ Synthetic Philosophy. 115 strata of materiality all alike relative to the consciousness of their ' percipients.' " The doctrine of the relativity of knowledge and of the inscrutableness of the ultimate nature of things has been held by nearly all the great thinkers of ancient and modern times, including men of firm faith in immortality. To confound this doctrine with the doctrine of materialism is to betray ignorance of philosophic thought. With the question whether there is or is not a future life for man I am not here concerned. Spencer neither affirms belief in such a life nor denies its possibility. There is nothing in his sys- tem of philosophy that involves necessarily, so far as I can see, either the acceptance or rejection of the doctrine of the continuance of conscious existence after bodily dissolution. If it could be disproved, his philosophy would not be af- fected thereby ; if it could be demonstrated beyond doubt to be true, the philosophy would be in no need of modifica- tion, for the phenomenal world would only be extended and the domain of science enlarged. One may hold to Spen- cer's philosophy and yet believe with Shad worth Hodgson in " an ethereal body built up during our lifetime within our grosser body, destined to preserve our individuality after death." The only question is, Is there proof of this theory of an ethereal body? Our American psychologist and phi- losopher, Mr. D. G-. Thompson, who accepts Mr. Spencer's philosophy in all its essential doctrines and implications, is " inclined to the opinion that the ground for the assertion of post-mortem personal self-consciousness in identity with ante-mortem self-consciousness is firmer than for the con- trary belief." He thinks it is " no harder to understand the continued existence of personal existence after death than to comprehend its occultation in sleep and restoration afterward." Mr. Thompson adds : " The same arguments tliat support the belief in continued personal existence after death tend also to prove an existence before birth. Is it possible that we must return to the pre-existence doctrines of the ancient philosophers'? Is it possible that we must each say, I am ; therefore I always Avas and always shall be ? Dios sabe ! '''' Others think that the implications of Spen- cer's philosophy point to physical dissolution as the end of consciousness. A few years ago Mr. Richard A. Proctor, in conversation, gave me his estimate of Herbert Spencer, which subsequent- ly, by my request, be put in a form for publication, and it 116 Herlert Spencer^s Synthetic Philosophy. appeared as a contribution in a journal which I then con- ducted. From that paper the following is an extract : " If we compare Herbert Spencer, in any dejDartment of science, with some chief master in that department, we find him at once less and greater ; less in knowledge of details and in mastery of facts and methods ; greater in that he sees out- side and beyond the mere details of that special subject and recognizes the relation of its region of inquiry to the much wider domain over which his own philosophy extends. . . . " Yet one can not but pause, when contemplating Herbert Spencer's work in departments of research, to note with wonder how he has been enabled, by mere clearness of in- sight, to discern truths which escaped the notice of the very leaders in those special subjects of inquiry. To take as- tronomy, for example, a subject which, more, perhaps, than any other, requires long and special study before the facts with which it deals can be rightly interpreted, Spencer rea- soned justly respecting the most difficult as well as the highest of all subjects of astronomical research, the archi- tecture of the stellar system, when the Herschels, Arago, and Humboldt adopted or accepted erroneous views. In this particular matter I had a noteworthy illustration of the justice of a remark made (either by Youmans or Fiske, I forget which) at the Spencer banquet in New York a few years ago : ' In every department of inquiry even the most zealous specialists must take the ideas of llerbert Spencer into consideration.' After long and careful study specially directed to tliat subject, I advanced in 18G9 opinions which I supposed to be new respecting the architecture of the heavens — opinions which Spencer liimself, in his Study of Sociology, has described as ' going far to help us in conceiv- ing the constitution of our own galaxy.' Yet I found that twelve years before, dealing with that part of science in his specially planned survey of the whole domain, he had seen clearly many of the points on which I insisted later, and had found in such points sufficient evidence to lead him to correct views respecting the complexity and variety of the sidereal system." In conclusion, The Synthetic Philosophy, as at present con- stituted, is not, of course, to be regarded as a finality. While man continues to advance in knowledge, all systems, to be of current value, will have to be subjected to much revision and supplementation ; but I am, I think, warranted in say- ing that the leading principles of the synthetic philosophy Herbert Spencer^ s Synthetic PMlosophy. 117 are likely to remain a solid and permanent contribution to scientific and philosophic thought. Herbert Spencer's discovery and elucidation of the experiential origin of intui- tion and his consequent reconciliation of the sensation phi- losophy and the intuitional school, together with his for- mulation and establishment of the principles of universal evolution, entitle him to rank among the most original thinkers of modern times. He will easily hold his place as the most profound and comprehensive philosophic mind of the nineteenth century. 118 Herhert Spencer's Synthetic Philosophy. ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION. Mr. Raymond S. Peerin : As I have listened to the lecture of the evening, I have experienced, in common, I have no doubt, with a great many in this audience, an impression of being overwhelmed with an avalanche of philosophic terms. The speaker has impressed us with the store of knowledge which he has acquired, but he has left us confused and unhappy. A few simple truths clearly and properly presented would have resulted in something more practical in the way of information than this ab- struse philosophical discussion. I am a great admirer of Herbert Spencer, who has undoubtedly given us the most remarkable philo- sophical system of the present century. On its objective side its mode of procedure has been scientific, and it is in effect a synthesis of all the special sciences. But I am no admirer of Kant ; and in so far as Spencer has borrowed from Kant, I can not accept his conclusions as rational and valid. To one who is familiar with the philosophy of Plato, Kant's Critique of Pure Reason is a roaring farce. Mr. Spencer has apparently accepted his conclusion that there is a Ding an sich behind phenomena— an absolute Being which is to us unknowable. But if it is unknowable, how do we know that there is any such abso- lute Being? This conclusion is not the result of scientific analysis, but of metaphysical speculation. The truly scientific procedure in phi- losophy would be, instead of resolving all things into an unknowable substance, to discover analytically what is the common content of all phenomena— those which are called mental as well as those which are called physical. The only quality or principle common to all known modes of being is motion. i\Iotion is a principle of life and mind as well as of material things. Absence of motion would be absolute death or nonentity. In the ultimate analysis we reach this principle of mo- tion or life everywhere, and we are therefore justified in positing it as the supreme reality in the place of the unknowable of Mr. Spencer. Mr. William IT. Bouguton : The comprehensive, just, judicious, and judicial paper to which we have listened to-night has yielded to us all the pleasure which a model review can give, and leaves nothing for criticism of matter or method. But it may be of interest to call attention to some conclusions of Mr. Spencer which he may not have established upon as firm a foundation Herbert Spencer^s Synthetic Philosophy. 119 as that upon which he has reared his doctrine of evolution. I refer to his theory of an unknowable power, or ultimate force or final first cause, from which all things proceed. This conclusion can not be drawn from such unassailable premises as Mr. Spencer's definition of space — viz., the abstract of all coexist- ences ; nor from the character of such existences to be found in his definition of matter — viz., coexistent positions which offer resistance — implying, as he must imply, all of motion in that word " positions," and excluding, as he must exclude therefrom, all ideas of fixity. Fi- nality can not be ascribed to cause ; and with the fall of finality comes the fall of its illogical conclusion — viz., that creative power which is implied in Mr. Spencer's words, '" from which all things proceed." All we know or can imagine of cause is antecedence — that one thing precedes another and a different thing in time. There is no question of a series here. The last thing is not the end of cause, and the first thing does not begin it. The one is as unthink- able as the other. With the demolition of finality, what becomes of its creative power f There is no question here of quantity nor of qual- ity. If matter is indestructible, power could not have caused it; and, if power is imperishable, it can not in that respect be distinguished from matter. If power has any existence, it falls under the definition of matter ; if space is all existence, it can have no other meaning than indefinitely extended matter, and their coexistence prevents proces- sion and throws out all ideas of final cause and final antecedence. It seems to me that Mr. Spencer's error flows from a misapplication of the fact that we think in relations and can not think of a knowable power except as related to an unknowable power. This relation has nothing to do with the subject, for the reason that it is not a question of the relation of a knowable whole or a knowable part to an unknowable whole, for space is not a limited whole, and an unlimited whole is a contradiction in terms. Space has no opposite, no antithesis. Form is not its opposite. The constantly changing forms which indefinitely extended matter assumes are included in apace, as the shape of the apple is included in the apple. Of course there is no time to-night to amplify the views which I have expressed, nor to state them except dogmatically, and I will therefore close by thanking the lecturer for his paper and the audi- ence for its attention. Dr. Robert G. Eccles : Mr. Underwood's lecture is a very able and satisfactory exposition of the sjTithetic philosophy. He had a big subject to deal with, and, of course, could only be expected to present the merest outline in an 120 Herbert Spencer's Synthetic PhilosojjJiy. hour's talk. He dwelt chiefly on the psychological side rather than the physical. This was almost inevitable under existing circum- stances, and no doubt the best, since Mr. Spencer's contributions have been more notable and original here than in the physical domain. In the latter he relied more on the work of eminent biologists like Darwin and Huxley. All he has done is but a continuation of the work of preceding philosophers. The doctrine of evolution is itself an evolution, and was only synthetized by Mr. Spencer. It is in the direct line of descent of the work of the best reasoners of all ages, and only became possible in its present form after the advent of mod- ern science. It is really a growth of the ages and not the work of a day or even a century. It owes much to Kant, Berkeley, Reid, Hume, and other great thinkers who have been mentioned to-night. It has found allied truths in contending schools of thought, brought them together and fused them into a harmonic whole. To understand it correctly requires breadth of thought, abundance of data, and persist- ent, hard mental work. Without these it remains as incomprehensible as the higher mathematics to the non-educated. It is quite evident from Mr. Perrin's remarks that he has failed com- pletely to grasp the basic principles of its psychology. There is a pons asinorum here that he has not crossed. This surprises me very much. Himself a writer on philosophical subjects of acknowledged ability, one would have expected better things from him here. What he has said reveals the fact that the doctrine of the " unknowable " is un- known to him except in name. He neither has grasped what Spencer and his disciples mean by it, nor the significance of the facts upon which it rests. Its basis is wholly physiological, and as an implication it is imperative. All that it involves is a correct comprehension of the nature and limitations of human sense and perception. To know what we know, and how we know it, is to demonstrate what Mr. Perrin denies. For him to characterize Kant's Critique of Pure Reason as a " farce " is only to reveal the sad limitations of his own mental grasp. However much we may dissent from some of this great German's con- clusions, we all must admit him to be one of the very ablest and most profound reasoners the world has ever seen. Whoever attempts to ignore or underestimate his work only discountenances his own prow- ess. That he believed in "things in themselves" was but evidence that he held the universe to be real instead of illusory. The pict- ures in our brains have as causes substantial verities. Mr. Perrin holds that real being is motion. " Things in themselves," he contends, arc mere motions. But motions of what! Of nothing, he maintains. How many of you can picture to your minds motions of nothings I Reason rebels against being forced to accept such a thought. Are not Herbert Spencer^s Synthetic Philosophy. 121 such motions unknowable ? This apotheosis of motion does not help philosophy in the least. It is practically telling us that the world rests on the shoulders of Atlas, but fails to say what that worthy stands upon for his support. Mr. John A. Tayloe : The essay to which we have listened this evening must be regarded, I think, by all competent to judge, as one of the most candid and able expositions of philosophical truth to which this association has ever listened. It is indeed a large subject, and can hardly be treated in the form of a popular lecture. I thiuk, however, that Mr. Underwood has been remarkably successful in presenting to us a clear and correct ex- position of Mr. Spencer's philosophy. If Mr. Perrin had given a little more thought to the matter, he would hardly have complained, I think, of the abstruse character of the essay. Surely the lecturer has used no terms so technical that a philosophical student can not readily grasp and understand them. It should have been left to us who make no claims to philosophical distinction to make this criticism — if it is to be made. But, unfamiliar as I am with Kant — whose works I have tried in vain to read — and the abstruse discussions of other meta- physicians, I found no difficulty in comprehending the lecturer's ex- position. I regard Mr. Spencer as the foremost philosopher of our time, and think the association is to be congratulated on the oppor- tunity of listening to such an able presentation of his views. I would move, sir, as an expression of our appreciation of the ability of the lec- turer as a foremost advocate of evolution views, that Mr. Underwood be elected a corresponding member of the Brooklyn Ethical Association. (The motion being duly seconded and put to vote by the president, Mr. Underwood was unanimously elected). Mr. Underwood : Recognizing the excellent work which this association has done, with which I have long been familiar, I regard your election of myself as corresponding member as a high honor, and accept it in the spirit in which it has been tendered. I also thank you for the general charac- ter of your criticisms. The task imposed upon me was a great one — one which required a course of lectures rather than an hour's discus- sion for its accomplishment. No one can be better aware than myself of the imperfections of my lecture. The subject is one which neces- sitates the use of philosophical terms, but I have endeavored to present it as clearly and concisely as possible. The animadversions on Mr. Spencer's views have been so fully answered by other speakers that I will not occupy your time by a further reply. •• SOCIOLOGICAL • EVOLUTION XIV. Brooklyn Ethiral Associ- ation Lectures. EVOLUTION AND SOCIAL REFORM III. THE ANARCHISTIC METHOD. BY HUGH O. PEXTECOST Editor of "The Twentieth Century." BOSTON JAMES H. WEST, Publisher 196 Summer Street 1890 \lA0^ri^ COLLATERAL READINGS SUGGESTED. Spencer's "Principles of Sociology," "Social Statics," and "The Man versus the State"; Prudhon's "What is Property?" and " Id^e Generale de la Kevolution au 19me Sifecle" ; Brown's " Stud- ies in Modern Socialism" ; Sumner's "What Social Classes owe to Each Other"; Mill's "On Liberty"; Lieber's "On Civil Liberty and Self-Government"; Huxley's "Administrative Xihilism"; Stephen's " Liberty, Equality and Fraternity"; Crosier's "Civil- ization and Progress"; Thompson's "Social Progress"; James's "Anarchy"; Parsons's "Anarchism: Its Philosophy and Scien- tific Basis"; Bakounine's "r;odand theState"; Andrews's "The Science of Society"; Tcheruichewsky's "What's to be Done?" (302) EVOLUTION AND SOCIAL REFORM.* III. THE ANARCHISTIC METHOD. Those who accept tlie conclusions of Anarchism believe that it is a science ; or, if you please, a philosophy sup- ported by facts scientifically discovered and collated. It is not a religion based upon assumptions, unwarranted or contradicted by facts. It is not a S3'stem of metaphysics consisting of undemonstrable speculations. They freely admit that Sociology is not yet an exact science ; that, strictly speaking, there is no Science of Society. But they speak of Anarchism as a science because its methods of investigation and accomplishment are scientific. In so far as it represents conclusions they have been reached scien- tifically. If Anarchists have a theory it is because they believe observed facts are best explained by that theor}-. If a theory does not well account for observed facts it is abandoned, and a new working hypothesis is sought. They do not pursue the theologic or metaphysical method in formulating their postulates. Anarchists believe there should be no government : by which they mean no government by physical force ; no government to prevent persons from thinking, saying or doing what they should be free to think, say or do ; no government for the encouragement of those who invade what should be the rights of others, with the protection of such invaders ; no government to authorize a few to monop- olize what should be the opportunities of all ; no govern- ment to compel persons to do what they should be free to refuse to do, what it is not necessary for the good of all that they should do ; no government in favor of one class as against another class ; no government to enrich the idle by impoverishing the industrious. They believe there should be no government that interferes with wholesome individual liberty and wealth-producing exertion. But they believe in well-ordered society, in which the. wise, the just, the good will rule by precepts, principles and ex- amples ; in which healthful public opinion will utter and •Copyright, 1890, by James H. West. 304 Evolution and Social Reform: morally enforce everything needful for restraint or encour- agement. They believe in government, but not government by physical force for the injury of all, or, to use a common expression which means the same, for unjust purposes. They believe in self-control and mutuality. An Anarchist is not one who wishes to separate himself from his kind, to live independently, to lapse into the individual isolation of the Stone Age. He is an individual- ist, but also a socialist, a mutualist. He understands that civilized men must co-operate, that co-operation is a social necessity. But he wishes to co-operate voluntarily ; to have the privilege of declining to co-operate in one or more or all particulars ; of resigning the benefits and obligations of co-operation. He values individual freedom above all other possessions, and protests against any organization of society in which it is not recognized and respected. He does not wish another or a majority of others to decide for him what he shall or shall not do, unless he agrees before- hand to such an arrangement. If he wishes to live apart from others he desires to be allowed to do so. He believes in society composed of individuals each of whom shall be free from invasive restraints or compulsions. It should be understood that Anarchists abhor the idea of using individ- ual liberty for the purpose of injuring others, and they believe that in society rightly constituted there would be found effective methods of dealing Avith those who should violate the rights or liberties of others. It should be understood from this statement of general principles that Anarchists are not bomb-throwers — dyna- miters. There are some persons who call themselves Anarchists who believe that circumstances might arise which would justify a resort to destructive warfare, and that good results would follow such a method. But, in my opinion, the clearest thinkers, the most scientific among the Anarchists, understand that what might be achieved by physical force would be subject to reversal by physical force, and would, therefore, have to be conserved by physi- cal force. In my opinion, the most careful thinkers among the Anarchists understand that if some transient ''tidal- wave" of popular opinion, formed rapidly and by what we call accident, or some sudden ujjrising of the people, in- flamed by discontent but not educated in economic prin- ciples, as in the case of the French Revolution, should The Anarchistic Method. 305 enable them by political methods or force of arms to secure coutrol of the government, little or nothing would be gained and much might be lost. So that the life of even so hateful a ruler as the Czar is safe from attack by an Anarchist, because it is not the Czar but Czarism that must die before the people can be free ; and no Anarchist would think of destroying the property or life of a monopolist, for it is monopolism that is aimed at, and this can be destroyed only by education. Anarchists do not fight with bombs, but with books ; nor Avith pistols, but with pens. They are not thugs ; they are thinkers. Not powder, but persuasion, is their weapon. Not by cannon, but by con- victions, do they hope to win. Among non- Anarchists who are sufiicientlj' well informed to understand all this, the objection is vxrged that Anarchism is a beautiful but utterlj'- impracticable dream. The realization of Anarchism, it is said, would introduce the millennium ; and, strange to say, this is a reason why multitudes of Christians who profess to be looking forward toward the millennium with all the fervor of religious hape regard Anarchists with aversion or contempt. It is quite true that to reach an ideally Auarchistic social state would necessitate ideall}^ perfect individuals. But Anarchists are not idealists. They are the reverse of idealists. Every theory has its ideal of perfect consummation. But An- archists do not expect perfection. Perfection is not necessary to the happy and relatively satisfactory working of Anarchism. Anarchists are not dreamers, hoAvever much they may be so regarded by those Avho do not understand their beliefs and aims. They regard themselves as very rational, very practical persons. They believe their theories maj', in many particulars, be put in practice at once 5 that some of them are in ojieration ; and that wherever they are em- ployed the results are more satisfactory than where opposite methods are pursued. For example : Fashions are followed by the Anarchistic method. Men, without governmental interference, wear narrow or wide trousers, and women short or long skirts. And this is a distinct advance toward Anarchism, as everyone familiar with the governmental regulations of clothing in the past knows. Men are not governmentally compelled to lift their hats to women or keep to the right on the sidewalk, but they usually do both. 306 Evolution and Social Reform: An ideal state of society in miniature may be seen in every drawing-room where ladies and gentlemen, as we call well- bred men and women, come together for social intercourse. There is no compulsion. They talk, dance, eat and drink; groups form and disperse; individuals, with freedom and polite regard for the rights of others, move about, come and go. And if one habitually disregards the proprieties of such assemblages he is not arrested and dragged to prison ; he is dealt with far more effectively ; he is not invited to come, again ; he is dropped, shunned, boycotted. The "four hundred" as well as the Irish peasantry know the value of the boycott. The New York Grocers' Association is an almost purely Anarchistic institution, and may be used as o'lie example of many. I am informed that the wholesale grocers of Xew York have lost faith in the efficacy of governmental laws for the collection of debts, and have formed an Association which has proved very satisfactory in its results, to protect themselves against loss by bad debts. They no longer depend upon governmental machinery. If a debtor to any grocery house in New York exhibits signs of business weakness or lack of integrity he is visited by a represent- ative of the Association. If this visit has no salutary effect upon him it becomes impossible for him to l)uy goods, except for cash, anywhere in New York. That is all tliat happens to him ; but out-of-town buyers are said to be much more afraid of the Grocers' Association than of the government. The staid business-men of New York who compose this Association would, perhaps, be shocked to know that, in one particular, they are true Anarchists ; but such is the fact. Their Association does not serve them with ideal perfection, but it is better for them tlian the system of collecting debts by physical force. And this is all that Anarchists claim for their proposed arrangement of society : that it is practicable, that it is better than government by physical force, and tliat it is capable of constantly approaching ideal perfection. Let us now glance briefly at the economic principles of Anaroliism. Anarcliists regard poverty as the misfortune that causes most of tlie unhapi)iness and crime with which tlie human race is afflicted. I do not, of course, mean that poverty which individuals might, under any social system, choose . . The Anarchistic Method. 307 to suffer rather than practise virtue and self-control or labor for the production of wealth. I mean involuntary- poverty ; that poverty which is now, in spite of the virtue, self-control and industry of the poor, so prevalent. Many- persons are skeptical concerning the existence of such poverty. It is commonly believed that no one not intem- perate or thriftless need be poor. But it is only necessary to open one's eyes to see that there are millions of human beings in this and all countries who labor unceasingly only to find that their poverty increases. It is unnecessary to dwell upon a fact so patent. Everywhere children are taken from school or play to labor in factories and mines ; else why the futile statutes against child-labor ? Every- where is heard the hum of sewing-machines from which hollow-chested women drop into the Potter's Field ; else why all the kind-hearted charitable work among the <' worthy poor" ? This social disease of poverty Anarchists believe will disappear when its causes are generally understood. And they believe its causes are much better understood by a few than the causes of small-pox or cholera are understood by any ; and that they are removable. They believe that what are popularly supposed to be its causes — ignorance of what is taught in the schools, idleness, drunkenness and crime — are its effects ; and that, hence, to attempt to remove it by compulsory education in the common schools, charity- organization societies, model tenement-houses and reforma- tories, liowever well-meant such attempts may be and undoubtedly are, is to necessarily fail. The cause of invol- untary poverty, Anarchists believe, is the taking away from the laboring people — the producers of Avealth — a large part of what they produce. This is accomplished by methods not understood Avitliout much observation and reflection Init easily perceived by open-minded thinkers. Anyone can see that there are many persons in every comnumity wlio do no ju-oduotive work. Such persons must be supported by what others produce, since there is no other fund from which they may draw. Beggars and tramps are a drain upon the wealth of the industrious. Thieves break through and steal what others earn. Gamblers of all kinds subsist upon what others produce ; and so do the inmates of poor-houses and prisons. This is plain to all. Policemen, soldiers, and higli-priced govern- 308 Evolution and Social Reform: ment-officials whose services are not worth to the com- munitv what they get for them, are certainly not producers, and whether they, in part, serve good purposes or not it remains the same that producers are forcibly taxed for their support. Workers are compelled to give up their wealth to support law-makers and professional destroyers of property and life. All this is evident notwithstanding that part of it, however unfortunate, is inevitable in the present state of social development. But besides these are other large numbers of persons who receive what they do not produce. Those whose incomes are wholly or partly derived from buying and selling land are regarded by Anarchists, in so far as they are dealers in land, as subsisting upon wealth produced by the labor of others. And to this class of persons belong all those who collect rents — that is, those who receive for the use of their houses, machinery or other personal effects an excess of price over and above what is required to cover compul- sory taxes, insurance and necessary repairs upon such property. i i • j Those, also, whose incomes are wholly or partly derived from interest, or the rent of money, are regarded by Anarchists, as appropriating Avhat others produce. And so, too, are those who, in buying and selling or manufacturing for sale, receive as the result of such production and exchange more than what would fairly compensate them in the form of Avages for their actual labor in superintending, producing or exchanging. In plain words, Anarchists regard rent-takers, or land- lords, interest-takers, or what Mr. J. K. Ingalls calls lend- lords, and protit-takers, or trade-lords, as social parasites. Or. in other words. Anarchists believe, and think they can scientifically prove, that anyone who receives in the process of wealth-distribution more than what represents fair wages for productive labor — that is, more than he actually produces — appropriates something that should belong to others, and thereby helps to bind a load of inevitable poverty upon those who are thus defrauded of the iruits of their industry. Let us look, for a moment, from the Anarchistic stand- point, at the grounds tor tliis belief. Land is unproduced. It is not tlie result of human labor. It is what is sometimes called a natural oppor- The Anarchistic Method. 309 tunity. It is the passive factor in the production of wealth. Like air and water it is an absolute necessity of human life. "When man appeared, like the open air and water running in the streams or bubbling from tlie springs, it was free to access by him. Anarchists believe that if, from the beginning, of human exertions upon this planet, each man had been content to possess and control only so much land as he could productively use, the supply of land free for use always would have been and now would be practically as unlimited as the supply of air and running water, and that, therefore, it never would have commanded a price and would not now be a thing to buy and sell. They believe that the practice of owning land that one cannot and does not wish to use, excluding others from its use, has given rise to rent, or the price of land ; or, to jnit it in other words, that the monopoly of vacant or unused land is the cause of rent. Rent, therefore, does not repre- sent work performed or wealth produced by the rent-taker. It represents wealth transferred from a jDroducer to a non- producer as the price of a privilege that should be absolutely free to all. It is evident that rent-takers, as such, are idlers. They produce nothing. If, then, they subsist it must be at the expense of those who labor. And by just so much as they are rich others must necessarily be poor. Rent is a tribute that public opinion permits non-producers to levy upon producers by the simple contrivance of holding large quantities of land out of use. The same reasoning applies when we turn to the subject of interest. Rent is the product of labor jiaid to idlers for the use of land. Interest is the product of labor paid to idlers for the use of money. Rent is interest for land; interest is rent for money. Both are the products of monopoly. IMoney is as necessary to a complicated system of trade as air, water and land are to life. If the supply of money were always equal to the demand for it as an implement of exchange, each person would always have as much of it as would represent labor directly performed or products of labor surrendered by him. The only use that money should have is to indicate that so much labor has been directly performed or so nuich wealth surrendered by the possessor of it; and its value is in that it Avill insure to its ])ossessor the return of a corresponding amount of service or wealth upon demand. It is not in the least 310 Evolution and Social Reform : necessary that it should possess any intrinsic valne other than that of the paper on which it is written or printed and the labor of writing or printing it. If men had been sufficiently intelligent from the start, a perfect system of money would have grown with the growth of society, and each person always Avould have ha^ precisely as much money as he deserved, because he would not have parted with labor or its products without getting a full representative equivalent in money, unless the transaction were made by the simple process of barter, in which case exchange would be made in kind. All this will be more or less unintelligible to the average conservative person, but it will, I think, become plain to anyone who will thoughtfully read Stephen Pearl Andrews' '-Science of Society," especially that portion of the work devoted to the principle therein formulated as ''Cost the Limit of Price," the original discovery of which Mr. Andrews ascribes to Josiah Warren, with whose works I am not familiar. To this book, the "Science of Society," I am indebted for clear and satisfactory ideas of the true nature and uses of money. But contrary to all this men have adopted certain materials for money, the supply of Avhich, relative to the demand, is very limited ; and even when paper is used for money a very insufficient quantity is permitted to circulate, being sometimes greater and sonietimes less, but always under the control of persons who make their living by handling it, and by whose manipulations producers are see-sawed out of their earnings. Money is monopolized. It is "cornered." It frequently happens that a man has much valuable property but no money. Such a man is obliged to go to those Avho control the supply of money and hire what he needs at rates of interest which could not and would not exist if money were not monopolized. The point is this : Anarchists believe that as rent would not be a natural product of harmoniously organized soci- ety, neither would interest. They clearly see that interest- takers, as sucl), are non«j)roducers, and that, therefore, what they subsist on must in some unjust way have been taken from the industrious persons who produced it. With regard to profits, Anarcliists believe that in a fair exchange of goods for goods tliere Avill be gain to both parties to tlie Isargaiu but "j)rofit" to neither. If I want The Anarchistic Method. 311 yoxir cow more than I want my own horse and you want my liorse more than you want your own cow we exchange beasts. We each, by the trade, gain something, but neither makes a '' profit." Profit is not as easily separable from wages as interest or rent, because what is called wages of superintendence is an uncertain quantity ; but it may be, "nevertheless, accurately defined as that portion of the manufacturer's or merchant's income over and above what he should receive as compensation for labor actually per- formed by him. And Anarchists believe that if the land and money monopolies Avere broken, profits would dis- appear. This needs further explanation, but the limits of this address do not admit of it. I must leave it for your future reflection or stud}-, if you are not already familiar with the line of thought involved. Anarchists believe, then, that poverty results from the existence of social parasites — persons who perform no productive labor and who are therefore, necessarily, sup- ported oiit of what laborers produce. These social para- sites are thieves at liberty, criminals in prison, gamblers, whether with cards, dice or stocks ; sharpers, whether confidence-men or business-men ; paupers, whether abroad or in poor-houses ; policemen, when in excess of actual need for the protection of property and life ; soldiers, unless actually necessary to repel invasion ; collectors of compulsory taxes ; politicians and law-makers, unless we are to reject the time-honored belief of many of the wisest and best of men that government by force is, at best, a "necessary evil"; rent-takers, interest-takers and profit- takers, except in so far as it can be scientifically proven that rent, interest and profits are the necessary outcome of absolutely free contracts between persons as free as indi- viduals ever can be under any possible arrangement of society. In my opinion, the most thoughtful Anarchists are agreed that, in any possible arrangement of society, sporadic cases of rent, interest and profits might arise, but the amounts involved would be too insignificant for serious consideration and the transactfons would represent no injustice whatever. But as all these social parasites are the products of a social arrangement that legitimates rent, interest and profits, Anarchists believe that involuntary poverty is the necessary outcome of, and is completely 312 Evolution and Social Reform : accounted for by, the existence of rent, interest and profits. These, therefore, must disappear before the liuman race can be free, wealthy and happy. With their dis- appearance secondary causes of poverty Avill naturally cease. This explains the opposition of Anarchists to govern- ment by physical force. They know that those bits of paper by which non-users hold land vacant are legal docu- ments. They know that if laborers should attempt to exercise what should be their right, by taking possession of vacant land for productive use, the whole machinery of government by ph3"sical force would be brought to bear upon them, and if nothing else would avail to drive them from the vacant land they would be shot to death by gov- ernment powder and balls from government guns in the hands of government troops. And yet the only crime of Avhich such laborers Avould be guilty would be that of trying to earn an honest living and promote the happiness of the world by increasing its wealth ; their only crime would be that of wishing to apply productive labor to what we call natural materials, M-hich, wlien not in legitimate use, should be free to all. They know, in short, that the man-starving monopoly of vacant land is authorized and maintained by military government. They know, also, that the monopoly of money is sim- ilarly maintained by government. Free competition with the government in the manufacture and uttering of money is forcibly prevented. And because profits arise on account of the monopoly of land and money the government is the creator of rent, interest and profits, the baleful trinity in unity, more powerful than any imaginary bad god to plunge the human race into poverty and so into misery and crime. Anarchists believe, still further, that all statute laws are necessarily partial and unjust, unless you choose to except laws against violence and theft. It is impossible to devise a statute law that will not favor some persons against others. The very "machinery of justice," as we call our judicial system, works injustice to the poor, if for no other reason, because as between a litigant Avith money and a litigant without money the poor man may Ije defeated by his very inability to bear the expenses of court-procedure. All this is very briefly and insufliciently stated, but Anarchists believe tliat it can be scientificallv and elab- The Anarchistic Method. 313 orately proved that, whetlier government is a ^^ necessary evil" or not, it is necessaribj evil as at present constituted anywhere in the world. It follows, then, that Anarchists desire a cessation of military government. It would not, however, convey the right idea to say that they wish to destroy the government. They desire that society should grow away from the necessity for government by physical force by the gradual and general acceptance of scientific jirinciples of Sociology. The Anarchistic method of regenerating society, therefore, is that of educating the people in scientific principles of social co-operation or mutuality ; it is that of propaganda, of calling the attention of the people to facts widely observed and logically collated; of doing just Avhat I am doing at this moment. They understand that all existing governments are the expression of the will of the people. Russia is ruled by a Czar because most of the people of Russia believe that is the best form of government for them. Public opinion prevails in Russia without the ballot as effectually as with us through the ballot. ]\Iilitary protec- tion of social parasites prevails in this country because most of our peoi)le believe that the monopoly of vacant land is right and that our present money system is just and fair, precisely as they once believed that chattel slavery Avas a divine institution. Most of our people are firm believers in the righteousness of rent, interest and profits, and the large owners of real-estate and holders of govern- ment-bonds are commonly believed to come by their money honestly and fairly. They are not popularly regarded as monopolists who increase their riches by simply appropri- ating what others j^roduce. "While such beliefs exist society will remain very much as it is. Nothing can bring it into Anarchistic arrangement but a general recognition of the essential injustice of all wealth-getting except by wealth producing. Anarchists, for the present, therefore, have nothing rational to do but to clarify their own ideas, develop their science and teach their principles. I have already explained why it would be absurd for them to wage war for their principles. They know that nothing is ever settled by being fought out ; all right consummations must be thought out. ]\Iany Anarchists think, also, that it would be absurd for them to resort to political methods. A ballot means a bullet. The decision 314 Evolution and Social Reform : of a majority at an election holds because the army is behind it. But Anarchists, even if they were in a majority, would not wish to impose their will on a minority. In the opinion of very many Anarchists, therefore, the ballot is, for their use, a stultifying implement. But even if it were not it would not be employed by them, because they regard it as useless. They believe that when public opinion favors a violation or the ignoring of a statute law it is not necessary to vote that law oif the statute-books. It will become inoperative ; a dead letter, as we say. And as Anarchists can have nothing to vote for except the abroga- tion of existing laws, manifestly voting, in their case, would be a work of supererogation. For example : All Anarchists are necessarily free-traders j but most Anarchists will not vote with the Democrats, because they know that when public sentiment favors free trade custom-houses and custom ofticers will disappear. No army was ever yet organized that could force a nation to pay duties or do anything else against the public sen- timent of that nation. Anarchists point to the statute-books of every nation and every old State in this nation for evidence that it is unnecessary to fight or vote laws into desuetude. Multitudes of laws which have never been abrogated are absolutely inoperative. They are so dead that it is not worth while to expunge them from the records. I believe the old Connecticut blue-laws have never been repealed, but there is not power enough at the command of the Governor of that State or the President of the United States to enforce them in the present temper of public oi)inion. There is a law in the District of Columbia providing that an offender shall be bored through the tongue for denying the doctrine of the Trinity, or something of that sort. But it is so paralyzed by public odium that it is impossible to enforce it and unnecessary to abolish it. The New York Grocers' Association is a current illustra- tion of how laws against tlie collection of debts will, I think, fall into disuse. Anarchists object very strongly to laws against the collection of debts. They think a debt is contracted by a private arrangement with which the State should have nothing to do ; that State interference for the collection of debts tends to greatly reduce business integrity ; that commercial morality would immediately reach a much The Anarchistic Method. 315 higher than its present plane if all financial transactions were effected upon individual honor ; that the dangerous, the ruinous credit-system of doing biisiness would be desirably modified if laws for the collection of debts by force were abolished. Indeed, some Anarchists think that the abolition of laws for the collection of debts would go very far toAvard reorganizing society upon a just basis. But, important as this measure is, they deem it unnecessary to vote for it, because, in time, the experience of business- men will demonstrate that such laws are futile and unneces- sary, and when a law goes out of use under the action of popular opinion its disappearance produces no friction, for it ceases because no one desires it any longer. To fight down slavery was a mistake followed by inevita- ble unhappy conditions until now. If slavery had been let alone until it crumbled away there would have succeeded its disappearance no sad and vexing negro-problem. This was the wish of Garrison and his friends, very good Anarchists, who denounced the government and burned the Constitution because they upheld chattel slavery as they sustain indirect slavery to-day, and who contemplated the use of no other than intellectual and moral weapons against the abomination. If Garrison's policy of propaganda and passive resistance had been followed, the institution of chattel slavery would not have disappeared as suddenly as it did, but it would inevitably have fallen to pieces, little by little, without leaving soldier blood and a national debt where it fell. It would have fallen without the use of a bullet or a ballot. The Anarchist, then, at present is simply a propagandist, by word and passive deed. He talks and writes and, as far as possible, refrains from doing those things that to him are useless and Avrong. He ceases to exercise the privilege of the franchise. If he is entirely consistent he will receive nothing that he does not earn, except by gift. If he believes that it is Avise for him to become a martyr for purposes of propaganda he will refuse to pay taxes and take the consequences, without physical resistance. An- archists, however, as a rule are not what is commonly called fanatical. They rely more iipon words, for the present, than upon deeds. But when they become more numerous the method of passive resistance will, no doubt, be resorted to. 316 Evolution and Social Reform : For example : By general consent among a large inimber in a given locality, tliey may refuse to pay, nucler compul- sion, their taxes, offering, of course, to resign all claims to governmental protection, and perhaps offering voluntarily to contribute toward the maintenance of those communal undertakings of which they approve ; or they may go upon vacant land to use it, suffering themselves to be evicted, unless public opinion sustains them ; or they may attempt to circulate mutual bank or credit money. In two words, the Anarchistic method, for the present, is propaganda, but when they believe themselves to be in sufficient numbers they will probably resort to passive resistance. Upon this presentation they may appear to be very impractical, but if what I have so brietl}^ said is thought- fully considered, and if it is remembered that Anarchistic opinion as it grows will constantly be registering itself by the platform-makers and law-makers, I think the conclusion will be reached that Anarchists are not characteristically dreamers, but are sane students of history and human nature. Let me illustrate what I mean by a case that is before the public mind at this mome^it. Anarchists are opposed to capital punishment, and they observe with complacent pleasure the growing sentiment against the barbarous practice. A bill for its abolition recently passed the Kew York Assembly but was defeated in the Senate. The introduction of this bill in the New York Legislature exemplifies the tendency of the politicians to reflect public o})inion in the making or unmaking of laws ; but the facts regarding the practice of capital punishment also show that it is a matter of no concern whatever what legislatures do or fail to do in tlie premises. I do not know how many murders Avere committed in New York State last year, but there were only eight executions ; and although there Avere reported during the same year 3567 murders and homicides as having occurred in the United States, there Avere but ninety-eight hangings. The death-penalty is gradually abolishing itself, and whether the laws on the subject remain on the statute-books or not, the practice of hanging in this country will soon be given u]). Tliis method of abolisliing an obnoxious law is Anarchistic or evolutionary; and it should 1)6 understood that the Anarchistic metliod is always and in every particular the application of, or, rather, The Anarchistic Method. 317 conformity to, the principles of evolution in the progress of society. From the presentation that I have made of this subject, it should be seen by the most conservative mind that Anarchism is nothing more nor less than the old-fashioned American idea that that government is best which governs least. The present apparent tendency of thought is toward the idea that that government is best that governs most — State Socialism, or, as it is called in its distinctively Amer- ican form, Xationalism. Between these two ideas we are slowly but surely being forced to choose. The question is immediately before us : whether government shall, little by little, increase its functions, or little by little decrease its functions ; whether government shall become more central- ized or society more flexible ; whether the individual shall be more and more subordinated to the State or more and more free to pursue in his own way, life, liberty and happiness. Anarchists believe that the State should decrease and the individual increase ; that the most har- monious society will be composed of individuals who are controlled by reason, governed by moral considerations ; and that the removal of restrictions upon industry and trade, the cessation of partial, monopolistic legislation, will conduce to the development of men who will be able to sustain social relations to each other without necessity for the imaginary terrors of supernaturalism or the real compulsion of military government. ]\Iutualism between free individ- uals is the doctrine of Anarchism. To rationally and peacefully decrease the powers of compulsory government is the method of Anarchism. There are two questions which Anarchists are frequently called upon to answer. The first of these is : How can communal xtndertakings be accomplished without some governmental authority ? How can sewers and stn-ets be made and supervised without some centralized restraining or compelling power ? How could boundaries to land, and all those inatters that are now defined bylaw, — and disputes about which are settled in the courts, — be deter- mined ? To all these questions Anarchists can no more give definite answers than tlit-y can tell what the fashion in hats will be in the year 2UO0. All they can do is to appeal to history and show that men have learned how to do many things without the aid of government, for the 318 Evolution and Social Reform. doing of which government was once believed to be neces- sary, and to reason with apparent warrant that men are capable of learning how to do in the future much that now seems difficult or impossible. It it is remembered that Anarchists suppose that men must learn how to do many things by voluntary association better than they are done or can be done by present methods, before they will cease to be done by governmental compulsion, the question will be answered as well as it can be in a single sentence. The best fire-department is that which insurance companies equip for their own interests ; the best schools are private schools, else why do they continue in unequal competition with public schools ? There is no good reason why men should not yet learn how to build the best roads and sewers and other communal works without the services of armed constables or policemen. To suppose otherwise is to strangely limit the capabilities of the human mind, which has already accomplished enough once apparent impos- sibilities to warrant very considerable faith in its ability to meet all future social requirements and practically solve all future social problems. The other question to which I referred is : How long will it be before Anarchism will or may be practically realized? To this the Anarchist replies that it is impos- sible to tell. Evolution is slow up to a certain point, at which point events shape themselves with astonishing rapidity. We can never tell at just what stage of evolu- tion we are. Unforeseen circumstances often precipitate accomplisliments which apparently belong to the remote future. But with the question, *' When ?" Anarchists do not much concern themselves. What is long to human life is short as a historical period. The Anarchist is a scientist ; it is for him to announce his discovery. He is a philosopher ; it is for him to earnestly labor and patiently wait. He believes he has discovered certain sociological facts; he believes that all men will in time come to acknowledge them as facts. For what is gained while he lives he rejoices: but if little is accomplished before his work is done he does not despair. He sees of the travail of his soul and is satisfied. Twentieth Century HUGH O. PENTECOST, Editor. Each number contains the address of the editor, delivered the pre- ceding Sunday in New York, Brooklyn and Newark. Motto ' H£AR THE OTHER SIDE. This magazine advocates Personal Sovereignty in place of State Sovereignty, Voluntary Cooperation instead of Compulsory Cooperation, the Lib- eration of the human mind from Superstition, and the application of the principles of Ethics toward Social Regeneration. 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One of the most suggestive and best developed essays on personal immortal- ity which later years have produced. — Literary World. Uplifts of Heart and Will. A Series of Religious Meditations, or Aspirations. Addressed to Earnest Men and Women. By James H. West. Cloth, square 18mo., beveled edges. Price, postjjaid, 50 cents. '• On purely rational grounds it is not easy to meet the position [of this little book], except liy saying that the words and forms of our [usual] devotion must be accepted as "?>'( ;(/,"/;/ sijinOolic. and xot ameiutblc to the understanding/. * * * It is good to welcome a religious science better than the old hard bigotry-. Still, while we by no means accept these • Cplifts' as a necessarj- or an adequate substitute for tlie customary exercises of devotion, they are at least better fitted than the ordinary practice to a state of minil far from "uncommon, and greatly deserving of respect." — From a sevcn-jia'jr notice in the Unitarian Itcvieiv. Evolution : A Summary of Evidence. By Capt. Robt. C. Adams, Author of "Travels in Faith from Tradition to Reason." Pamj^hlet, 44 pages, 25 cents. "An admirable presentation and summing up of the Evolution Argument." Man, ^A^oman and Child. By M. J. Savage. 200 pages, Si. 00. A bIes was explicitly admitted by Darwin, though that fact is often iguort'd by his critics, and has been emphasized by Mr. Spencer in his "Factors of Organic Evolution," as well as by l^rof. Cope, Dr. Eaymond, and the American School of Evolutionists generally. '' There is now much reason," Mr. Wallace declares, "to believe that the sup- posed inheritance of acquired modifications — that is, of the effects of use and disuse, or of the direct influence of the environment — is not a fact, and if so, the very foun- dation is taken away from the Avhole class of objections on which such stress is now laid." Such effects, for exam- ple, as the diminished jaw in civilized man, and the dimi- nution of the muscles used in closing the jaw in case of pet dogs which are fed on soft food, are wholly accounted for by the simple fact of the withdrawal of natural selec- tion in keeping up the parts in question to their full dimensions, in connection Avith Mr. Galton's law of "Re- gression toward Mediocrity," whereby, it has been been proved experimentally, there is a tendency of organs which have been increased by natural selection, to revert to a mean or average size, whenever the stress of circumstances which compelled the operation of this law is removed. Investigating the supposed effects of use and disuse in wild animals, Mr. Wallace notes the circumstance that " the very fact of use, in a wild state, implies vtillfi/, and utility is the constant subject for the action of natural selection ; while among domestic animals those parts which are exceptionally used are so used in the service of man, and thus become the subjects of artificial selection." " There are no cases among wild animals," he says, " which may not be better explained by variation and natural selec- tion," than by the law of use or disuse. He quotes Gal- ton, and Trof. Weismann in his recently published " Essays on Heredity," — two of the most careful students of tliis subject, — in support of the non-heredity of acquired variations; and on the whole makes an exceedingly strong argument in favor of natural sehu^tion as the great and controlling factor in organic evolution. Prof. Cope and the American evolutionists, he says, "have introduced theoret- ical conce])tions which have not yet been tested by exi)eri- ments or facts, as well as metaidiysical conceptions which are incapable of proof. And when tliey come to illustrate these views by an appeal to i)ala',ontology «»r morphology, of the Evolution J'lnhisopJiy. 5 we find that a far simpler and more complete explanation of the facts is afforded by the established principles of vari- ation and natnral selection." Mr. Wallace's general conclu- sion is that all other laAvs and factors in organic evolution " must have operated in entire subordination to the law of natural selection," — a conclusion which he supports by logical argument from such a wealth of accumulated facts, that it will be extremely difficult for his opponents si; cess- fully to combat his views. While asserting the continuity of man's progress from the brute, and of the higher animals from the protoplasmic cell, Mr. Wallace believes that at three definite stages in the progress of organic evolution there has been an in- troduction of new causes, not involved in nor evolved from the forces previously operating. These are, 1st., the change from inorganic to organic life, otherwise involved in the conception of spontaneous generation ; L'nd, the in- troduction of sensation or consciousness, which "is still more marvelous, still more completely beyond all possi- bility of explanation by matter, its laws and forces " ; and, 3rd, the development of certain noble characteristics' and faculties in man, as, for example, his moral and intellectual nature, and the mathematical, artistic and musical facul- ties, which differentiate him from the brute animals, indi- cate the reality of a spiritual universe, and prophetically assure an immortal life for the spiritual nature of man. His peculiar views on these topics will probably appear more or less reasonable to different persons according to their temperamental tendencies and educational bias ; but no one, I think, can lay down this book without a convic- tion of the great ability and transparent sincerity of its author, of its pre-eminent value as a contribution to the general literature of evolution, and of the weight of its argument^ in defense of Natural Selection as a controlling factor in organic development.* Evolution may be true, in the field of biology, it may yet be said, but what of it ? Man may .be the descendant of an anthropoid ape, "probably arboreal in its habits," *Xote should also lie made of Trof. Aujrelo lleil]irin's recently imlilished liook on "The Iteniuida Islands," wliicli contains a carelul study ol the lor- niation of coral reefs, contirniiiij;- Darwin's theories on this subject, whit'h some recent writers have lirou^ht in iiuestion. The tendency of the most recent studies has uniiuestionalily hecn to strenhy of KvDlutiim. Kvolutinn Kssays, pp. .T-j;^-.^! . of tlie Evolution Philosoplnj. 9 with a realistic conception of the external world, nor with the obligation to use and trust those high faculties of intellect and reason Avhieh constitute the distinguishing features of the mind of man — tliat in every de})artment of scientific, historical-and true philosophic investigation, indeed, it is consistent and coincident with the meta-gnos- ticdsm of my friend, Mr. Skilton. * In si:>eaking of indi- vidual opinion as a unit of that "general power which works out social changes," JNlr. Spencer places uppermost as the goal of intelligent tliought and action, a practical rather than a merely speculative purpose — therel)y turn- ing our attention to the field of practical ethics which is involved in the discussion of sociological evolution. To a further consideration of the relations of the evolution philosophy to this topic, foremost at the present day in the arena of discussion and of i)ractical statesmanship, I shall ask your thoughtful attention during the concluding por- tion of my paper. What, then, let us ask at the outset, is an Agnostic ? What is philosophical agnosticism ? The word, as is well- known, was first introduced into English usage by Prof. Huxley, and was derived by him from Paul's designation of the "Agnostic" or unknown God, whose altar was established by the pious Athenians. As Prof. Huxley himself describes its meaning and origin, it arose from a conviction produced by his early reading of Sir William Hamilton's essay "On the Thilosophy of the Uncondi- tioned," strengthened by subsequent reflection and the study of Hume and Kant. Of the essay of Sir William Hamilton, Prof. Huxley declares : " It stamped upon my mind the strong conviction that, on even the most solemn and important of questions, men are apt to take cunning phrases for answers ; and that the limitation of our facul- ties, in a great number of cases, renders real answers to those questions not merely actually impossible, but theo- retically inconceivable." f As regards the validity of spec- ulative conclusions, he was therefore forced to adopt the conviction thus stated by Kant in his "Critique of Pure Reason": "The greatest and perhajjs the sole use of all philoso})hy of pure reason is, after all, merely negative, since it serves not as an orginuui for tlie enlargement [of *The Evohitioii of Society, Evolution ICssays, pi). Tl'y-'Z'l' . t Christianity anil Agnosticism, lluxlcy-Wace Controversy. 10 The Scope and Frinciples knowledge,] but as a disfipline for its delimitation, and instead of discovering truth, lias only the modest merit of preventing error." In other words, the only practical re- sult of metaphysical studies is to convince the unbiased student that the human mind is incapable of grasping ontological facts. In the clearer language of Mr. Spencer, '' all our knowledge is relative." We can know nothing of the external universe— nothing even of the nature of our own bodies and of our own minds — save as they are directly related to our knowing faculties. Involved in this phenomenal knowledge, however, and accompanying it at every step, we have the inexpugnable testimony of our reason and consciousness that behind the world of phe- nomena there exists an Iniiuite and Eternal Energy which is the source and efl&cient cause of all phenomena, both physical and mental. As thus stated, the doctrine seems almost a truism. How, indeed, can it be possible that man should know anything which is wholly out of relation to his intellectual faculties ? Nay, of what use or interest to him would such knowledge be if it were possible to attain it.^ And on the other liand, how is it possible f or _ him to view the orderly procession of phenomena — any single phenomenon, indeed — without conceiving it as a manifes- tation of immanent causal energy ? A sense of depend- ence upon a Power which is greater than our human capacity of comprehension — an apprehension of our own finitude and of that of the phenomenal universe, in the presence of this Power— is indeed as necessary to supply the demands of our intellectual as of our emotional and religi(jus nature. If we think at all, we cannot escape from the implication involved in this belief. It rebukes our intellectual conceits, and touches with an infinite awe and reverence every discovered beauty, every hidden mys- tery, the existence of which is forced upon us by the con- templation of the world nf pliciioiiicna. In the very fact that the dei)ths of this mystery can never be sounded by the finite plummets of our thought, lies its capacity to for- ever satisfy the artistic, the poetic, the religious demands of our nature. 'tion, those affections of matter which Ave knoAV as color, taste, odor, sound, exten- sion, Avould be Avholly incomprehensible. The limitati(.n of our OAvn senses, both in nund)er and in range, is entirely arbitrary. t It is quite conceivable that there may be beings •Maxwell's new inafrnetic theory of light einpliasizes still more strongly the jirinciple here hiid down. tThe itresident of the British Association, Professor Flower, indorses Sir .If)hn r.utiliock's idea that there may he " tilty other s^enses as dillVrent Ironi ours as si>i\ihI is Ironi sitrht ; and even within the lidHiularies ol our own senses there may he endless f-onnils whirh we cannot hear, and <'iili>rs as dif- ferent as red from green ol wliieh we liave no eoneejition. 'fhese and a tlion- sand other (juestions remain lor solution. The familntr world which surrounds ns mav lie a totally dillerent pl-.u-e to other animals. To them it may he full of" mnsic whieli we cannot hear, of color which we caunot see, of sensa- tions which we cannot couceive." 14 Tlie Scope and Pruiriples on some other planet, like the resident of Saturn imagined in the satire of Voltaire, with seventy senses instead of live — to whom the universe would present an appearance quite unfamiliar and incomprehensible to our understand- ing. To the old and ingenious play upon words involved in the familiar and brief philosophical catechism : " What is Matter? Never mind. What is Mind? Ko matter. What is the nature of the soul ? It is perfectly imma- terial," — science and evolution, therefore, enter an em- phatic protest. Matter, it declares, is the Unknowable Keality as reflected in mind through the mediation of the senses. Mind is that Keality as it appears directly in the operations of consciousness. It is, so far as we know, insep- arable from material conditions ; but it is a false logic which therefore infers that it is itself material. You can neither see, feel, smell, taste, weigh, measure, nor chemically de- compose a thought. It responds to no material tests. Yet in it lies a power greater than that of the Archimedean lever — a power sufficient to move the world. Of a soul distinct from mind and form, science knows absolutely nothing; but since it also knows nothing of the nature of the Absolute Reality of which mind and form are manifes- tations, no divine possibility is slain by this admission. Materialism and Idealism both err in assuming that knowl- edge is absolute instead of relative. P>oth declare that the universe is just what it appears to be to our senses — re- fusing, like the Electoral Commission, to " go behind the returns " and investigate the actual character of the suf- frage. Materialism assumes that matter is the mould of consciousness ; Idealism, that consciousness is the mould of matter. The truth lies between the two extremes, in- cluding what is true in both. The error of Materialism is cruder and more easily ivl lit cd than that ol' Idcalisui; in view of the testimony of scien(;e as to the nature of our sens(^-perception, it has not a foot to stand upon. In declai'iug that the Reality which is (^xtcMMial to our consciousness is identical and cotermi- nous witli tJiat whicli we know as matter, it bases its whole jiliilosojiliy on an unverilied and unveriiiable assumption whi(^h is contradictcMl by the entii'c testimony of S(nence. R)Ut in ass\iming tliat there is no Absolute Jveality external to consciousness, Idealism is e(]ually meta,j)liysical and un- .scientitic. The (piestion in I'eality is sinijily one of physi- of the Evolution Fldlosopliy. 15 ology — of a scientific understanding of the nature of sense- perception ; there is nothing speculative or metaphysical about it, whatsoever. The Materialist's position in philosophy reminds one of certain crude attempts at art, Avhich, ignoring all sense of perspective, and disregarding the beautiful blending of lights and shadows as we see them in the natural land- scape, illustrates a sort of sharply-defined wooden realism, which is as distressing to the cultivated eye as it is thor- oughly materialistic in its conception and execution. The Idealist's position, on the contrary, reminds one of an artist who should eschew the use of vulgar material paint, and attempt to dip his pencil in the prismatic hues of the rainbow. Of the two, it must be admitted that the materialistic painter would produce something, though it would not resemble anything that we ever see in ISTature ; while the idealist would produce nothing, external to his own imagination.* In the language of Professor Fiske : "Our conclusion is simply this, that no theory of phe- nomena, external or internal, can be framed without postu- lating an Absolute Existence of which phenomena are the manifestations. And now let us note carefully what follows. We cannot identify this Absolute Existence with Mind, since what we know as JNIind is a series of phenom- enal manifestations : it was the irrefragable part of Hume's argument that, in the eye of science as in the eye of com- mon sense, Mind means not the occult reality but the grouj) of phenomena which we know as thoughts and feelings. Nor can we identify this Absolute Existence with JNIatter, since what we know as Matter is a series of phenomenal manifestations ; it was the irrefragable part of Berkeley's argument that, in the eye of science as in the eye of com- mon sense, Mattt'r means not the occult realit}- but the group of sensations which we know as extension, resist- ance, color, etc. Absolute Existence, therefore, — the Reality which persists independently of us, and of which IVrind and ^Matter are ]ihenonuMial numifestations, — cannot be identified either with ^Miudorwith IMatter. Thus is ^la- terialism included in the same condemnation with Idealism. ''t *That which the Idealist would produce in his iinaffimitiou, however, inijiht be infinitely finer than the crude ol)jectivc iiroduction of the Materialist. tCosniic I'liilosojihy, Vol. I. The Evolutionist is jnstitied in atlirniinjr " the eternity and lunreatability of matter." which is the (latum nn wliicli the IG The Scojye and Principles This, then, is the conclusion of the evolution philosophy, differing as widely from Materialism on the one hand as it does from Idealism on the other: a conclusion, moreover, to which we are compelled Ly an irresistible logic from no basis of metaphysical assumption, but from data furnished by science itself, reinforced by that ultimate criterion of truth which bases the postulates of our reasoning upon the inconceivability of their opposites. The ultimate data botli for the scientific conclusions upon which the doctrine of the Unknowable is based, and fur the laws of thought under the operation of which it is logically established, are given in experience, which is the final court to which the evolutionist appeals. Philosophical agnosticism, it would appear, therefore, is not identical with materialism ; it is not a cowardly i)liiloso- phy Avhich refuses to think ; it is by no means to be confound- ed Avith that crude liberalism which dogmatically denies God and immortality. It is antagonistic neither to religion nor to reason ; it is antagonistic only to those unvei'iiiable assumptions dogmatically asserted as assured truths, which transform religion into superstition, and philosophic reason- ing into idle dreaming and unfruitful sjieculation. The evolution ])hiloso])hy affirms the duty of thinking out all intellectual problems to their idtimate conclusions, and asserts the competence of reason to deal with the data given in experience, throughout the entire phenomenal universe of matter and of mind. The universe of matter is infinitely knowable ; the realm of mind is infinitely knowable. And in knowing mind and matter we know tlie Infinite and Eternal Energy on which they depend, in all its ])0ssible relations to our own consciousness. It is tlic dnty of man to rise and trust his intellectual faculti(>s in the investigation of all mattei's which come within the scope of his intellect and understanding. All knowledge which can ])Ossibly come within the range of onr faculties is open to us ; hence then' is no real loss or j)rivati()n in the conce])tion that the mind cannot ])enetrate behind the veil oi' ])h('noiiiciia. 'I'hc supci-ticial appcaianccs of things, |iliysi<'iil ^ciciiccH rcHt, — incaiiinK tlicrcliy tluit " tlio lleality wliidi ])frsists iii(lc|)<-ii(li-iitly <>t ilH " is constant in its rcliitioiis, and woulil always manifest itscll i/.s ;;if///rr to a hi'int: cir l)cint:;s possessed r)l' a eoiisciolisness like luirs. The idealistie eonceidion tliat material olijeets are creations of the iny Sylvan Drey. (London: Williams & Norgate. Boston: James II. West, Publisher. ) 22 The Scope and Princijdes Whether this hope in intlividuals be vivid or dim will prob- ably be largely a matter of temperament and predisposi- tion ; bnt it will doubtless be even more dependent upon the lively comprehension of this fundamental doctrine of biological evolution — the doctrine of the essential good- ness and desirability of life itself. From what has heretofore been said, it is evident that Evolution, whether regarded in its philosophical or in its religious aspects, will largely interest itself in the practical problems of sociology — in the promotion of more active and more widely extended human synii:)athies, in the eleva- tion of the poor, the vicious and the down-trodden — thus extending the boundaries and the satisfactions of life not only among the remote and barbarous populations of the earth, but also, primarily and correlatively, in each individ- ual member of society. The word ''sociology," as ap]>lied to the science of society, — or its French equivalent, — is, I believe, the invention of Auguste Comte ; but the credit of working out this science of society, from strictly scientific data, into a natural and comju-ehensive system, is due, more than to any one else, to Mr. Herbert Spencer. It is to this study, most vital in interest and importance to every human being, that this series of lectures will direct our attention. Whether or not societ}'" may be properly termed "an or- ganism," in the strict sense in whirh the individual jirod- ucts of biological evolution are thus designated, it certainly bears a close relation to them in many important respects, and especially as to the character of its process of growth. As compared with the development of inorganic materials, which grow by simple accretion or addition to their bulk, oi'ganic substances grow by intussusception — a process of waste and rejiair which reaches every particle throughout tlicir internal structure. In this respect the growth of S(M'i(^ties resembles that (jf organic substances ; it is a sort of vital chemistry. All actual and ])ernianent enlargement of society ]>roceeds from the voluntary co-operative action dl' individuals. Aifection ami self-interest are the attrac- tive forces which weld society together, and these forces operate directly in and upon individual minds, throughout the social structure, Tlie death of individuals, and the l)irtli and growtli of others to fill tlieir places in society, proceeds in like manner with the })rocesses of waste and of the Evolution Philosophij. 23 repair in organic structures. There is such au intimate relationship between biological and social studies, that some knowledge of the laws governing biological growth is neces- sary to tit one for forming correct judgments on socio- logical problems. Biology and sociology both treat of the phenomena of life — both involve psychological as well as merely physical conditions — the one leading up to the other by an entirely orderly and natural process of devel- opment. Evolution shows that the phenomenal universe is "all of one piece," — and in its unity of method sym- bolizes an essential unity of Being, which, if we may not directly affirm it as a demonstrated fact, at least constitutes tlie most satisfactory and rational theory of the nature of things. In this higher field of sociological study, how many and varied are the problems that are presented for our investi-, gation — the profoundest, most deeply interesting of any which the human mind can attempt to solve ; for they, are problems w'hicli concern the origin, the essential character, the temporal and final destiny of man as an individual, and of Man as a race. Without attempting to forestall the solution of any of these problems, I may, in conclusion, state negatively the attitude of the evolution philosophy toward sociological studies. I. Evolutionists have no special schemes for social reform to urge i;pon society. They regard all earnest efforts for the amelioration of existing social evils and inequalities, with sympathy and appreciation, but insist that the various " rapid transit " })lans for achieving these much desired ends shall be rigidly examined in the light of social science, and not be too hastily accepted for all that their originators claim them to be. Evolutionists realize that " Kature does not advance by leaps," and they would carefully note the trend of past events, and study the nature of individual man in history and in connection with his present institutional environment, before \irging liim to a definite, forward step, in a direction contrary to that which he has been pursuing. To the Evolutionist, the a j/n'orl scheme of the social reformer bears a certain resem- blance to the philosophical system of the metaphysician, and, like the latter, he thinks the former sliould be sub- mitted to the test of the experiential method. 24 Tlie Scope and Principles II. In urging the study of Man in his historical relar tions, however, evohitionists do not claim that society should take no forward step, or that man should simply imitate or repeat the past. An able student of social and economic problems. Prof. Wm. G. Sumner, a gentleman whose abilities I admire and with many of whose conclu- sions I agree, in an article entitled " What is Civil Lib- erty ?" in a recent number of the Popiihir Science Monthly, makes the remarkable statement that the doctrine of man's natural liberty is a "dogma," of purely metaphysical origin, and asserts, in italicised phrase, that " that dogma has never had an historical foundation, but is the purest example that could be brought forward of an out and out a priori dogma." "The doctrine of evolution," he adds, "instead of support- ing the natural equality of all men, would give a demon- stration of their inequality ; and the doctrine of the strug- gle for existence would divorce lii)erty and equality as incompatible with each other." " Civil liberty," he says elsewhere, "is not a scientific fact. It is not in the order of nature " ; and all these startling assertions he makes /?i defense of the doctrine, the natural foundations of which he arbitrarily endeavors to undermine. To the evolutionist it is quite evident that if the learned Professor Avas as well instructed in l)iology as he is in the- ology, metaphysics and the a priori discussions of poetical economy, he would quite otherwise interpret the sociologi- cal teachings of Evolution. He is but a poor student of natural science, indeed, who would simply content himself with learning facts, witliout endeavoring to trace their re- lations, to study their causal connections, and therefrom to (b;iw i)rophetic inferences to guide his future investiga- tions, to interpret underlying laws, and thus enable liim to push forward to new discoveries.* To say that Evolution "does not point toward civil liberty" because communities of men have never existed completire of (ioodness, The Sense of Obligation, The Relativity of Duty, Morality and Religion in the Fut- ure, etc, etc. ••We all owe Mr. Savage thanks for the earnestness, frankness, and ability with which he has here illustrated the modern scientific methods of dealing with history, philosophy, and morality." "The book is a fund of intellectual and moral cheer." Evolution : A Summary of Evidence. By Capt. RoBX. C. Adams, Author of '-Travels in Faith from Tradition to Keason." Pamphlet, 44 pages, 25 cents. " An admirable presentation and summing up of the Evolution Argument." A Study of Primitive Christianity. By Lewis (i. Janes. 310 l)ages, -T^LoO. Treats of the natural evolution of the Christian Religion, according to the historical method, applying the assured results of modern criticism to the question of the historical verity of Jesus, the investigation of bis life and teaching, and the (lcveloi)ment of organized Christianity. Uplifts of Heart and Will. A Series of Keligious Meditations, or Aspirations. Adtln.s.sed to earn(')y saying that the words and forms of our [usual] devotion must be ac(-epte'd as//7(/(A-/v •>■.'/'"''"/''■. and not innfn(d>lc to thr iiiidcrstund- ing. * * * It IS good' to weh-oiiie a religious science better than the old hard l)igotry. Still, while we liy no means accept these • Fplifts ' as a necessary or an adeVpiate substitute for the customary exercises of devotion, they are at least better lifted tlian the ordinary iiraetice to a state of mind far from un- connnon, and greatly deserving of resi)ect."— /•'cow a srn n-jxit/e notice in the Unitarian Jlerieir. The Duties of Women. By Fkances Poweij Cobbe. Clotli. $1.00. "The profoundcst, wisest, pin-est, noblest book in principle, aim and tone yet written ui>om Xhe true position of n-onimi in sorieti/." Monthly, $2.00 per year. Single Number, 20 cents. Social Science and a Rational Religion. THE Hew iDEAh. Some Important Articles that have appeared During 1SS9. M. J. SAVAGE, Religious Instruction and the Public Schools; "The People" (Poem); The Coming Civilization. O. B. FROTHING HAM, The Keed of the Hour ; Theory and Conduct ; A "Word about Agnosticism ; History of the Free Religious Association ; The F. R. A. and Social Reform ; "For the Cause." EDWARD BELLAMY, Xatioualism. LAIRENCE GROXLUXD, Prescriptions for Social Ills ; Freedom or Liberty ; An End to Enforced Idleness ; Socialism True and False ; Intellectual and Etliical Aspects of Socialism. REV. DR. McGLYXN, Catholicism and the Public Schools. COL. T. "\V. HIGGINSON, Addresses at Convention of the Free Religious Asso- ciation, The Earth for Man, etc. WM. LLOYD (iARRlSON, Individualism. ED^VIN I). MEAD, The Function of the State. REV. W. D. P. BLISS, Christian Socialism. REV. N. P. OILMAN, Profit-Sharing. FREDERIC A. HINCKLEY, The First and Great Commandment; The Com- monwealth of Man. WM. J. POTTER, The New Ideal in Religion: Letter to the Free Religious Convention; What the F. R. A. might Do ; Bellaiuv's Vision. B. F. UNDERWOOD, Social Conditions and Tendencies. F. E. ABBOT, Ph.D., Creative Liberalism; The Dependence of Ethics; series of nine pajjcrs on The Philosopliv of Free Religion. GEO. H. HADLEY, Science the Bes"t Teacher of Liberalism; What does Lib- eralism oiler the Workingman '.' A Socialistic Object-Lesson ; Industrial Training as a Rcmcdv. F. M. HOLLAND, Robert Elsmere; The Exile (Song); Lucifer's Umbrella (A Fantasy, in Three I'arts); Who Condemned Jesus to Death; Justice and Taxes;" A Monument to all Religions; Ring in the Christ that is to be; How to lessen Poverty (in Two Parts); Peter ami his Island, — an Allegory. DR. EDMUND MONTGOMERY, Has Morality an Kyolutional or an'Eternal Basis? Supcrnatui-al Ethi(ts Irrational and Immoral; Fatalistic Science and Human Sclf-Dctcniiination ; Nationalism or Individualism'.' The Naturalistic Foundations of Nationalism. DR. LEWIS (i. JANES, The Ideal Liberal Church : The Evolution of the Earth ; A Brotherhood of Consent ; The New Idea of Religion. DR. C. T. STOCK WELL, What Shall Liberals do with their Children? The Top of the Coach. A. N. ADAMS, Agnosticism and Religion; A Study of Religion and Science; Reason and Religion. REV. PERKY .M.V15SIIALL, "Pure Religion" ; The Evolution of Religion; The Fundamentals ; Ki'loiiii in Worship ; Picking the Bible to Pieces. (HAS. D. B. .MILLS, Whether a New Religion or Not. .M. E.MILY ADAMS, Children's Sundays ; Hospitals not Creations of Chris- tianity. ELLKN'.M. MITClIKI.L.Tlu- Freedom of Fate. (iEOK(iK W. I'.ICKLFV. I'oliti.s and Morals. .MRS. CL.\i:.\ M. lUSBEE. Frectlir.uglit and Ethics. HOR.\CE L. TK.MI'.KL, Forth.' Party's Sake; Solution (Poem); Notes on the Recent Ethical Convention; Braveart Tliou in Another's Sjieech (Poem); Sweet Prattling Child (Poem); Svinds of .Snows (Poem); "The Sect .String — the Hiiiiiaii String." CHAS. K. WHIPPLE, TeatimonvtheBasisof History ; Intellectual Dishonesty; "The Bible Says." C.\I"T. P.. C. AD.\MS, Something Better. C. B. HOFF.M.W, Integral (o-oiicnition in Mexico. EIJZAHl'.TIl I!. CIIACE, W