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THE 
 
 COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH 
 
 IN ITS OUTLINES 
 
 AN EXPOSITION OF MODERN SOCIALISM 
 
 BY 
 
 LAURENCE GRONLUND 
 
 *•' My object is not to make people read. 
 But to make them think." 
 
 Montesquieu — Spirit of Lawn. 
 
 BOSTO'N' 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM 
 
•Copyright, 1884, 
 By Laubence Gbonlukdu 
 
.~rK 
 
 TO 
 
 THE ONE WHO HAS BEEN MOST INTERESTED 
 
 In the progress of my work; 
 
 TO MY SYMPATHETIC WIFE 
 
 I dedicate this book. 
 
 m6^633'? 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapter. Page. 
 
 To THE Reader , 7 
 
 I. The Peofit System 12 
 
 II. Social Anarchy 34 
 
 III. The Culmination 55 
 
 IV. The Sphere of the State 75 
 
 Y. Expediency of the Co-operative Common- 
 wealth 100 
 
 VI. Social EconOxMy lo2 
 
 VII. Democracy vs. Party Government 155 
 
 VIII. Administration of Affairs 108 
 
 IX. Administration of Justice ........ 186 
 
 X. Woman . 201 
 
 XI. Education 215 
 
 XII. Morals . . \ . . 234 
 
 XIII. The Coming Revolution 259 
 
 5 
 
TO THE KEADER. 
 
 A dialogue on " Political Optimism" in the Nineteenth Cen^ 
 tury for August, 18S0, contains the following language : 
 
 " We see that political systems in all progressive societies 
 tend toward socialistic democracy. We see everywhere that 
 it must come to that. We all of us feel this conviction, or all 
 of us, I suppose, who have reflected on the matter. We feel, 
 too, that nothing we can do can avert or possibly long delay 
 the consummation. Then, we must believe that the movement 
 is being guided, or is guiding itself to happy issues." 
 
 This passage may serve as a key to the following pages. 
 
 They have been written that you may see that the social and 
 political phenomena in all progressive countries, and particu- 
 larly in our own country and Great Britain, are, in a perfectly 
 natural manner, evolving a New Social Order, a Social Demo- ' 
 cratic Order, which we have called The Cooperative Common- 
 wealth ; in other words, — to speak pointedly, — that Socialism 
 is no importation, but a home-growth^ wherever found. They 
 are written to give you good reasons for expecting that this 
 New Social Order will be, indeed, a " happy issue " to the 
 brain-worker as well as to the hand-worker, to woman as well 
 as to man. They are written to give reasons for our convic- 
 tions that it must come to that, here as elsewhere, within a 
 comparatively short period, or to barbarism. 
 
 Barbarism! — Yes. Let not yourself be led astray by the 
 remarkable increase everywhere of wealth on the whole, — 
 possibly the under-current is, nevertheless, carrying us swiftly 
 backwards. Suppose you had told a Roman citizen in the age 
 of Augustus that his proud country then had entered on its de- 
 cline, — as every school-boy now knows it had, — he would 
 have thought you insane. Now, the many striking parallels 
 between that period and the times in which we are living 
 
S INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 must have forced themselves on your attention, if you are of 
 a rerteetive turn of mind, as we assume you are. You will 
 liave observed the same destructive forces to which History 
 attributes the fall of pagan Rome busily at work under your 
 very eyes. You see the same mad chase after Avealth; you 
 find everywhere the same deadening scepticism in regard to 
 high ideals. You observe in all our centres of activity a cor- 
 ruption — I will not say as great as, but — promising in due 
 time to rival that of the Roman Empire. Be careful not to be 
 too scornful if we prophesy that in, say, twenty-five years from 
 now. — if not the Cooperative Commonwealth should then, per- 
 chance, be realized — the demagogues of New York City will 
 buy voters by free public feasts and theatricals, that you will 
 hear the cry of ^'-panem et circenses " — ''give us bread and cir- 
 cuses," if you live then ! Indeed, we have already read in 
 the N. Y. Tribune : " Every one of our civil Justices has giv- 
 en a day's " outing ' to the wives and children of his district." 
 Even now in many of the States wealth seems a pre-requisite 
 to the attainment of Senatorial honors and millionaires and 
 sons of millionaires are bidding for seats in the lower house of 
 Congress. 
 
 But, for reasons hereafter set forth, we do not believe 
 our race will return to barbarism. The Roman Em- 
 pire was saved from that fate, finally, by being reanimated. 
 Our age as fully needs reanimation as the period of the 
 Caesars. We shall be reanimated : history will once more see 
 Society reconstructed on a new basis. 
 
 Says Huxley : " The reconstruction of Society on a scientific 
 basis is not only possible, but the only political object much 
 worth striving for." True, emphatically true! Except so far as 
 it is implied in this sentence that any individual or any nation 
 can go to work and arbitrarily reconstruct Society on a scien- 
 tilic or any other basis. 
 
 Socialism — modern Socialism. German Socialism, which is 
 fast becoming the Socialism the world over — holds that the 
 impending re<^onstructioa of Society will be brought about 
 by the Logic of Events; teaches that The Coming Bevolution i» 
 strictly an Evolution, Socialists of that school reason from no 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 9 
 
 assumed first principle, like the French who start from " So- 
 cial equality " or like Herbert Spencer, when in his Social 
 Statics he lays it down as an axiom, that *' every man has free- 
 dom to do all that he wills, provided he infringes not the like 
 freedom of every other man ; " but basing themselves on ex- 
 perience — not individual but univprsal experience — theycau 
 and do i)resent clear-cut, definite solutions. 
 
 It is this German Socialism which is presented in the follow- 
 ing pages, with this important modification that it has been di- 
 gested by a mind, Anglo-Saxon in its dislike of all extrava- 
 gancies and in its freedom from any vindictive feeling against 
 pei'sons. who are from circumstances what tlioy are. In the first 
 three chapters we present the Soci;ilist critique of the phe- 
 nomena of the era in which we are living ; in the next three 
 chapters we indicate the coming Social order which will, prob- 
 ably, develop itself out of the present system; in the three 
 that follow we outline the political and legal machinery which 
 very likely will be found necessary to the working of that new 
 order ; in chapters X, XI and XII, we point out the principal 
 social efiects which may be expected to follow from it, and ia 
 the last chapter we consider how the revolution — the change — 
 is likely to be accomplished in our country and England. 
 
 We believe it is time that a work, containing all the loading 
 tenets of Socialism in a concise, consecutive form should be 
 presented in the English language— in the language of the 
 two countries where the social, and specially the industrial 
 conditions, are ripening quicker than anywhere else. Such 
 a work, in fact, exists nowhere. Whenever any one now 
 wishes to inform himself on the subject lie has to wade through 
 innumerable books and pamphlets, mostly German. That such a 
 candid man as JoIdi S. Mill, who had a truly Socialist heart, did 
 not become a Socialist we attribute to this fragmentary shnpe 
 of Sotjialist thought, and that in a tongue unknown to him ; tor 
 his •" Chapters on Socialism." published after his death, show 
 that he was familiar only with French speculations, of a time 
 when Soci'ilisrii was yet in its Infancy. AVe can dismiss nearly 
 all that thus fiir has been written in our language by Socialists 
 oo the subject with the remark that it is not exactly adapted 
 
10 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 to people of jiidgniont and cuUnre. TYe thinlv that all Amer- 
 icans who simply want to be well-informed ought to make 
 themselves acquainted with this new philosophy — and Social- 
 ism is notliing less than that — which is believed in by hun- 
 dreds of thousands of our feUow-men with a fervor equalling 
 ihe enthusiasm of the early Christians. We think they will 
 make themselves a(;quaintcd with it. as soon as it is presented 
 to them in readable English, and applied to American phe- 
 nomena and American conditions by a writer possessing the 
 American bias for the practical. Such Socialism, whether 
 true or false, whether destined to be successful or unsuc- 
 cessful, is a matter that concerns you personally. 
 
 But if the writer of this work did not hope to accomplish 
 something beyond giving some, or even many, Americans 
 more correct notions of the aims of Socialists than those they 
 have, it would never have been written. We have a deeper 
 purpose, far nearer our heart. Most reflective minds, if they 
 do not go the whole length of the one who speaks in the dia- 
 logue with which we started, do admitthat weareatthe brink 
 of an extraordinary change ; that a crisis of some sort is im- 
 pending, no matter if it is likely to burst out now or in ten or 
 fifty years from now. We then say that the only thing that 
 can save us and our children from horrors, ten-fold worse 
 than those of the French Revolution, that can save us from 
 the infliction of such a scourge as Napoleon, will be the activ- 
 ity of a minority, acting as the brains of the llevolution. For 
 while there will be a revolution, it need not necessarily be one 
 marked by blood. "We hope it will not be such a one : a rev- 
 olution by violence is to Society what a hurricane is to a ship 
 struggling on the stormy ocean ; itisonly by herculean eftbrts 
 that we shall succeed in avoiding the ro(;ks and bring it 
 Into the secure haven, and even then we shall be bnt at the 
 threshold of our task. 
 
 But. then, we must flrst have in our country this minority ; a 
 vigorous minority, even if but a small one ; a minorit}' of in- 
 telligent and energet.ic American men and women ; a minor- 
 ity with sound convictions as to what the crisis means and 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 11 
 
 how It may be made to redound to the welfare of the whole 
 of Society and with the courage of their convictions. Such 
 a minority will be indispensable to render tlie revolution a bless- 
 ing, whether it comes peaceably or forcibly. Not that this 
 minority is to make the coming devolution — an hidividual, a 
 clique, a majority even can as little make a revolution as the 
 fly makes the carriage wheel roll ; the Revolution makes it- 
 self or '• grows itself; " — but this minority is to prepare for it 
 and, when the decisive moment has arrived, act on the mass- 
 es, as the power acts on the lever. To reach and possibly 
 win this minority — however small — this book has mainly been 
 written. 
 
 We shall, for that purpose, address ourselves to the reflec- 
 tive minds of all classes, rich as well as poor, professional as 
 well as working men — and, indeed, many, very majjy, literary 
 men and women, very many lawyers, very many physicians 
 and teachers are just as much in need of this Coming Eevolu- 
 tion as most working men. ' But we shall assume, reader, that 
 you are not one of those who are personally interested in the 
 maintenance of the present Social Order, or rather Social An- 
 archy Sov then it is hopeless to try to win you over. Very 
 likely you will deem it a difficult feat to win you over, to turn 
 you into a Socialist — All we ask of you is with us to view fa- 
 miliar facts of' life from a standpoint, very difl'erent from the 
 one you have hitherto beei occupying, to look at them in oth- 
 er lights and shades, and then await the resulc. A man is 
 never the same any more after he has once got a new impres- 
 sion. Mucli tliat we are going to say cannot but shock your 
 preconceived ideas, but from St. Paul down many have been 
 indigr.an'' at first hearing what afterwards became their most 
 cherished convictions. We shall discard all common-places and 
 phrases and throughout be mindful ot Samuel Johnson's ad- 
 monition : " Let us empty our minds of cant, gentlemen I ** 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 '' The worldng class is the only class which is not a class. 
 It is the nation. Tt represents, so to spoak. the body as a 
 wiiole, of w hich the otlier classes only represent special or- 
 gans. These or^j^ans, no donbt, have great and indispensable 
 functions, bnt for most ])nii)OPe'= of government the State 
 consiiJts of the vast laboring majoritj''. Its welfare depends 
 on what their lives are like." — Frederic Harrison. 
 
 "They (Political Economists) are men of only one idea — 
 "Wealth, how to })rocnre and increase it. 'J'heir rules seemed 
 infallibly certain to that sn})r(Mne end. What did it signify 
 that a great ])art of mankind was made nioanwhile even 
 more wretched than before, provided wealth on the whole 
 increased?" — Catholic Quarterly Review., Jan. 1880. 
 
 ''That the masses of men are robbed of their fair earnings 
 — that they Iiave to work much harder than thej'- ought to 
 work for a very much poorer living than they ought to get, 
 is to my mind clear." — Henry George, 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 13 
 
 We Phall commonoe with an object lesson ; it will consist chief- 
 ly oftigures. aiul tignres are tiresome things; — but the lesson 
 will be a short one. Here are four diagrams, — ''cakes" let us 
 call them : 
 
 iS6o. 
 
 1850. 
 
 
 .^ 
 
 Wages for 
 957,000 
 
 -• -3 
 
 " hands." 
 
 n c 
 3 J« 
 
 $ 437,000,000. 
 
 Wages foi 
 
 1,300.000 
 " hands." 
 
 Surplus, 
 53 per cent. 
 
 $ 805,000,000, 
 
 1870. 
 
 Wages for 
 
 3,000,000 
 
 "hands." 
 
 Surplus, 
 53 per cent. 
 
 1,310,000,000. 
 
 1880. 
 
 Wages for 
 
 
 
 Surplus, 
 
 3,739,000 
 
 
 
 48 1-3 per cent. 
 
 "hands" 
 
 
 $ 1,834,000,000. 
 
 These ""cakes " represent the net produce of all maimfacturin* 
 
14 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 Industries of the United States for the respective years; 
 mark! not the gross vakie of the products on leaving the fac- 
 tories, but only that value which has been given to them in 
 the factories minus the wear and tear of machinery. That is 
 to say, we have arrived at the above figures by first adding 
 the value of the raw materials and the depreciation of all ma- 
 cliiuery, implements and buildings together, and then deduct- 
 ing that sum from the value of the finished products. The 
 value of th^ raw-materials used, and the gross value we have 
 gathered from the respective U. S. Census Reports, but for the 
 estimate of the wear and tear of machinery &c there are ab- 
 solutely no data anywhere to be had. We have taken five per 
 cent, of all the capital invested in all manufactures in the re- 
 spective years as probably a fair estimate of such wear and 
 tear, as but a small part of all capital is invested in machinery 
 and implements, where most of the wear and tear occurs. Sup- 
 posing that we are somewhat out of the way on one side or 
 the other in this guess, it will not materially affect the conclu- 
 sions of this chapter. 
 
 Observe, first, that these "" cakes" grow at an even and a 
 very great rate ; 
 
 The cake of 1850 has a value of $ 437 million dollars ; 
 that of 1860 '' " *• *' 805 *' " 
 
 that of 1870 (reduced to gold) 1310 *' " 
 
 that of 1880 a value of 1834 ** " 
 
 Observe, next, that these •* cakes " are divided by a vertical 
 line into two very nearly equal portions. That to the left was 
 paid to the workers in the form of wages; that totheright we 
 shall, for the time being, call the '•'' Surplus." 
 
 Note, also. — for we do not want to make facts, but simply 
 to declare and explain them — that the portion: wages, in- 
 creases bcth absolutely and relatively in proportion to th€ 
 number of workers : 
 
 The average wage in 1850 was 248 dollars ; 
 
 " U ,. .4 IgQQ U 292 '' 
 
 " "- " ^- 1870 " 310 (gold.) 
 
 u 41 u »i IgSo " 346 ** 
 
 Tbe portion : surplus grows at a great rate : 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 15 
 
 In 1850 it amounted to 200 million dollars; 
 *' 1860 it was 426 '• '' 
 
 " 1870 it was 690 ^' (gold.) 
 
 '^ 1880 it rose to 886 '' •' 
 
 The average " surplus," that is, when divided by the num- 
 ber of establishments, was as follows : 
 In 1850 it was $1,500. 
 '' 1860 •' '' 3,000. 
 
 " 1870 it fell to 2,736, because the number of establish- 
 ments had nearly doubled. 
 
 In 1880 it rose to 3,490. the number of establishments being 
 nearly the same as in 1870. 
 
 Here ends the lesson. It was all figures ; bnt we should say that 
 to a reflective mind these figures are not dumb, but speaking. 
 
 The central point of interest seems to us to be this ''surplus." 
 How does this surplus originate 9 For to know what a thing 
 is, we must know the process of its origin. How come tliese 
 cakes — the net results of our indnstrial production — to be di- 
 vided that way? In order to answer these questions we shall 
 have to dissect the system of productioii which now prevails. 
 
 Take a number of moneyed men who agree to invest their 
 superfluities in some industrial enterprise. They come togeth- 
 er, form themselves into a joint-stock comnany and elect of- 
 ficers ; such companies, in fact, now own and operate some of 
 our largest establishments, and the tendency is that all indus- 
 tries of any consequence in time will be carried on by them. 
 Suppose then our moneyed men engaged in the cotton, or wool- 
 en, or iron and steel industry; either one of these will 
 serve our purpose equally well, as the * surplus ' was in 1880 
 about the same in proportion in all of them. Supx^ose they 
 engage in the making of cotton cloth. None of these men need 
 have any knowledge wiiatever of the work to be done, and as 
 a matter of fact the stockholders of existing joint-stock com- 
 panies have no such knowledge. They need not know anj^- 
 thing, indeed, except to add and divide — this is not added im- 
 pertinently, but simply to emphasize a fact most pertinent to 
 our subject. All that they need do is to hire a manager at a 
 
16 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 Stated salary and place their funds at his disposal. 
 
 This manager then rents a factory — a cotton-'' mill " — or has 
 one built; goes then into the market and buys spindles, bales 
 of cotton, and other machinery and raw materials. All that 
 low is wanting is Labor; but that is also to be found in the 
 market — plenty of it. The manager buys as much as he wants 
 of it. Note, however, here a difference. The machinery and 
 raw material he has to pay for on, or a short time after, de- 
 livery ; not quite so with Labor. With that a contract is made 
 to employ it for a week or a month at an agreed price, and then 
 to pay for it after having used it. 
 
 All these wares — machinery, cotton and Labor — are 
 now takeii to the cotton mill, where our men w ith money may, 
 if they think fit, look on while Labor spins and weaves the 
 cotton into cloth, using up in that process a certain small por- 
 tion of the machinery and factory. Everybody now knows, 
 that this cloth is not made for the personal use of these mon- 
 eyed men or their families — and we shall see in another chap- 
 ter that this fact is a truly distinguishing mark ol the era we 
 are living in — but that it is manufactured wholly for other peo- 
 ple whom these men never saw or heard of. This cloth is 
 made for the express purpose of being taken into and disposed 
 of in the market of the world. For there, all wares, from 
 guano to gold, from rags to silk, have one quality in com- 
 mon ; that of possessing value. 
 
 Now, please mark that nothing can so effectually kill our 
 cause as the successful impeachment of the answer we shall 
 give to the question : What is value? or the deductions we 
 sliall draw from it. Our explanation of what this '"surplus" is 
 and what Capital is, hinges on this question, which is, indeed, 
 '• Vidce mere'''' — the *Mnotheridea" of Socialism. We shall, there- 
 fore, suspend our sketch of the present mode of production, 
 in order first to answer it. 
 
 But mark n«;ain, our exposition of ''value" is none other 
 than that of David Jkicardo. Socialists regard Kicardo as tlie 
 last political economist v/ho made any substantial addition to 
 the science ; the one who, in regard to value and wages, ad- 
 vanced it to its highest plane. And it was only alter the sup- 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM, 17 
 
 porters of the present social order found out. what use could 
 be made of his teachings, that Bastiat and his disciples came 
 to their succor and tried to impugn these teachings. We build 
 on IMcardo as our foundation. 
 
 U'o the question then. Bj"^ "' value '' we mean vahie in ex- 
 change; we do not mean value in use. or utility, or, what 
 seems to us a more luminous name, and what Locke called it: 
 worth. The worth or utility of shoes is their capacity to i^ro- 
 tect the feet; their vaUie is what they will fetch in the mar- 
 ket. Their vahie is their relation to other wares, in some way 
 or other; is another name for equivalence. 
 
 But relation in what way? Not relation of worths. Worth, 
 or utility, is undoubtedly presupposed, but it does not deter- 
 mine the vahie. That will be seen from the following illus- 
 trations : 
 
 The reason why a man wants to purchase a pair of 
 shoes, is that he needs them, that they are useful, that 
 they possess "• worth" to him. But their usefulness 
 is not at all the reason why he paj's ,f2.00 for them 
 He does not pay twenty times as much for tlieni as for a ten 
 cent loaf of bread, because they are twenty times as useful to 
 him. Why not ? Because the two " worths" or two useful- 
 nesses are just as incomj>aral)le as a pound of butter and a 
 peck of apples would be. Agahi, a loaf of bread is "worth" 
 infinitely more to a man who hus not eaten anything for forty- 
 eight hours than to one who Just comes from a hearty dinner; 
 j'et the former can buy tiie loaf just as cheaply as the latter. 
 Value, then, is no relation of *• wortiis." of usefulnesses. 
 
 Nor h:is money anything to do with determining values. 
 Wares would have value, the same as the\' have now, if all 
 money of all kinds were suddenly annihilated. In order to 
 eliminate that disturbing factor: money, w^e shall suppose an 
 exchange of goods for goods — pure barter. 
 
 Assume, then, a shoemaker to exchange one pair of boots 
 for a coat, another similar pair for a table, a third pair for one 
 hundred pounds of bread, a fourth pair for forty bushels of 
 coal, and a fifth pah- for a book. All these articles are said to 
 be equal in value. 
 
18 THE riiOFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 But equality presupposes comparison. We only compare 
 sueli articles with each other that are similar. In what re- 
 spect, then, are the above articles similar, except that of be- 
 ing useful, which we saw was no point ot comparison? 
 They are dissimilar in regard to the material, out of which 
 they are made and the purposes for which they are made. 
 They are, oil the other hand, similar in this respect that 
 they haA'^e been produced by human labor, working 
 on natural products, which, again, have been won by hu- 
 man labor. Th;'y have, then, this property in common, that 
 they have sprung from Nature, and contain in them a certain 
 amount of liuman labor. Labor is their father and Nature is 
 their mother. 
 
 Nature, liowever. performs her work gratuitously. It must, 
 then, be human labor which gives these various articles their 
 value. 
 
 That is, also, the teaching of Ricardo. He lays it down as 
 a fundamental principle, that the exchange values of wares 
 the supply of which may be indefinitely increased, (as is the 
 case with these articles we enumerated) depend, exclusively, 
 on the quantities of labor, necessarily required to produce them 
 and bring them to market, in all states of society. In an- 
 other place he says: " In all cases, wares rise in value, be- 
 cause more labor is expended." 
 
 These various articles, however, have not only vnlue; they 
 were supposed to have equal value, consequently they must 
 contain an equal amount of human labor. And so it is. 
 
 These amounts are first measured by the time devoted to pro- 
 duce these articles. Thus, it is easy enough to say, how much 
 bakenng labor is coniained in the bread; how much tailoring 
 labor in the coat tfec. 
 
 These various labors, however, are very different in kind, 
 you will say. Undoubtedly. But the difference consists simply 
 in being more or less comi)licated. It takes, simply, more 
 time to learn the one than the other. The most complicated 
 kind of work can always be reduced to ordinary unskilled la- 
 bor, may always be considered as nuiltiplied common labor. 
 Thus digging is easier to learn than type setting. There is con- 
 
THE PKOFIT SYSTEM, 19 
 
 tallied in every hour's work of the carpenter a part of the time 
 he devoted to l^ariiin^^ hi< trade. This is still more apjjarent 
 iu the literal y labor contained in a book. Years ma} be requi- 
 Bite for tlie preliminary work, months or even years maj' have 
 to be devoted to special studies, while the mere writing of tlio 
 manuscript may take but a few months. One hour of writing 
 may thus, be equivalent to twelve, or many more, hours of 
 common labor. 
 
 In this coniitiction Ricardo very pertinently remarks ''I am not 
 inattentive to the difficulty of comparing one hour's labor in 
 one employment with the same duration of labor in another. 
 But the estimation of different qualities of Labor comes soon 
 to be adjusted in the market with suincient precision for all 
 practical purposes " 
 
 But we are not yet ready to define what Value is. Suppose 
 one man required twice as much time to make a pair of boots 
 as Is usually required, and suppose he should then want from 
 the tailor two coats in exchange, instead of one, he probably 
 would gel some such answer as this : '• I don't care how long 
 time it takes you to make such a pair of boots. I know, that 
 on an average, an average shoemaker can make them in half 
 that time, and therefore your labor is of no more value." 
 Value is not then determined by the time which this or that 
 worker may need. 
 
 Again. Suppose tomoiTOw a machine is invented and geuer- 
 ally introduced which will make t vo pair of boots in the s ime 
 time that now is required for one pair Then the Value will 
 be reduced one-half. 
 
 We. then, define Value as : the quantitij of common human 
 labor ^ measured by time^ which on an averaqe is requisite, hij the 
 implements generally used, to produce a giitn commodity. 
 
 We should now go on with our illustration and state the de- 
 duction which Socialists draw from the definition just given, 
 were it not for some misunderstandings that veiy likely al- 
 ready have ariseii in many a reader's mind. 
 
 Thus, one. may object: Suppose I find a diamond in the 
 highway. Its value is, certainly, far above the trouble of pick- 
 ing it up. Does not this show that Bastiat's definition of Val- 
 
20 THE TROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 ne: that its measure is '■'• the service done to tlie buyer, in sav- 
 ing hiiJi a certain amount of ctTort,"' is the more correct 
 one. We answer: Teopk; are not in the liabit of finding dia- 
 monds in the hiiihways. If tliey wei'c. diamonds wonhl soon 
 be as cheap as pebbh's. Diamonds will come to the tinder dear 
 enough, if he were to seek them in Hindostan or Brazil, where 
 they are usually found. Kemember that the average amount 
 of labor is a part of our definition. 
 
 A word more in regard to that theory of *•' service," which 
 so many reformers in our country have got into their heads 
 without knowing to whom they owe it. Bastiat it was who 
 invented that term in order to get over the ai)parent mischief 
 Ricardo's theory worked; who expressly selected it because 
 its meaning was equivocal. Its efficacy lies entirely in the shift- 
 ing uses of an ambiguous term. Bastiat's definition really 
 an)Ounts to saying, that the value of a railroad-ticket from 
 Boston to Worcester is measured hy the time, trouble and ex- 
 pense which 1 may "save" in not walking or driving that dis- 
 tance! Why, our progress depends on exactly the reverse! 
 On this, that values of articlesbecome constantly less and less in 
 proportion to the trouble I should have to undergo in produc- 
 ing them by my own efforts I So that, finally, values and troub- 
 les of mine bear no relation at all to each other. 
 
 Agidn, we shall, of course, be charged with having disre- 
 garded the law of Demand and Supply. Aiid yet. we distinct- 
 ly mentioned, that we. so far, only spoke of articles that may 
 be indefinitely increased. Wares, that cannot be thus increased, 
 like rare pictures and wines, and other wares in times of scarci- 
 ty, have what is called, a '^ monopoly value," that is, their val- 
 ue is not measured by the labor contained — crystalizod — in theii> 
 at all, but by Demand and Supply, exclusively. And even 
 with regard to wares that may be indefinitely increased (the 
 vast majority of all wares) we, with iricardo, do not deny 
 that '-there are accidental and temporary deviations of the 
 actual market from their primary, and natural price." 
 
 That which we lay stress upon is, that the labor expended 
 on wares measures, and js, their primary and natural value. 
 Labor expended constitutes, so to speak, their /erei value. Do- 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 21 
 
 niana and Supply have, as to those wares, simply the effect of 
 niiikiiig their price (that is. tlieir value expressed in money — 
 ill gold and silver) vibrate, now a little above, now a little be- 
 low that level value of theirs; exactly as the wind raises and 
 depresses the waves in lespect to the level of the sea. 
 
 We claim, then : — First, in the words of Ricardo : ''Nature 
 by the aid of machinery adds to utilities (to ••' Worths'") by 
 making society richer; but the assistance which it affords, 
 adds nothing to Values, but always makes the latter fall." 
 And, on the other hand, that Human Labor and Scarcity create 
 all Values. But since it is evident, that Scarcity cannot cre- 
 ate anything real, we must conclude that the Values which are 
 due to it, are unreal ones ; and that it is human Labor alone 
 that creates all real values. [This of course, does not imply, that 
 there is not much Labor which does not create any Values at 
 all.] So it is not only now, but so it has always been. So it 
 will always be under any industrial system. 
 
 We can now return to our sketch. We left the manager hav- 
 ing taken the cotton cloth into the world's market for sale. 
 Suppose one hundred hours of common labor (that is, the un- 
 skilled labor to which, as we have seen, all skilled labor can 
 be ultimately reduced) necessary, under the prevailing mode 
 of production, to make this cloth, and another hundred hours 
 of common labor requisite to produce the bales of cotton and 
 that part of the machinery which has been used up, then the 
 value of the finished cotton cloth is two hundred hours of 
 common labor. That is. they will exchange with that amount 
 of labor crystallized in any other ware. Suppose they are ex- 
 changed (disregarding for the moment the oscillating influ- 
 ence of Demand and Supply) for an amount of gold, embody 
 Ing two hundred hoin-s of common labor. That gold is thcL 
 taken to the office of our company. 
 
 But, since equal amounts of labor are exchanged, why dr 
 these moneyed. men engage in this operation? Do they do it 
 for fun? 
 
 Not a bit of it. We have now arrived at the Social- 
 ist deductiou which is drawn from our definition of value, 
 
22 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 and which made it so important, that it should be thoroughly 
 understood. Our moneyed men first deduct from that heap 
 of gold lying before them th<ir outlay for raw materials and 
 the wear and tear of machinery. The balance— the *' cake •* 
 in fact — they divide into two. let us say, equal portions. The 
 one portion they give to Labor, and the other — ? 
 
 liemember that we stated, that there is plenty of labor in 
 the market.' Labor now-a-days is aware. Being a ware it 
 possesses both Worth and Value. Its ico7'«/i is its ability tc 
 produce our '' cakes-' — Values. Labor creates these. And its 
 (labor's) Value is precisely what the value of other wares is: 
 the amount of common human labor^ necesmry to '"raise " and 
 maintain a laborer^ in the manner customary at a given time 
 and in a given country. 
 
 Labor as Ricardo says, "has its natural value — depending 
 on the price of necessaries — and its market price," vibratijig 
 above and below the former. The hiborer, in other words, 
 must sell his labor for wages, now a little above, now a little 
 below what it costs him to live and bring up his family. 
 
 That which we have hitherto called -'the surplus." then 
 arises, because the laborer gets only about half of what he 
 produces. And what becomes of it? Fancy these monej-cd 
 men reasoning to themselves : '• True, this sui-plus is the ])rod- 
 uct of our Labor, but didn't we agree to pay a stated price for 
 that; and haven't we paid it? True, also, that we have done 
 nothing but going through the effort of hii-lng our manager 
 and looking on. Never mind! ice ca// tYpro/i«." That name 
 they give it and put it into their pockets. 
 
 From this point we have no more use for the vague word 
 *' Surplus '* ; we are now entitled to call it by the approjuiate 
 name: Fleecings. If there was an English word for the 
 process of abstracting honey from the bees, we should jnefer 
 tiiat, for the process of pocketing the proceeds of Labor is also 
 a stealthy one. Let it, however be distinctly understood that 
 in adopting this word •' fleecings" we have not the remotest 
 Idea of reflecting upon ;?^rso».9; we use it, and shall use it 
 rei)eatedly, to condemn as impressively as possible the system 
 which allows and sometimes compels one class of men virtu- 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 23 
 
 ally to say to another class : ''If you will work five hours a 
 day for us gratuitously, we will enable you to work the other 
 five hours for yourselves *' — that is, to condemn the Profit Sys- 
 tem^ the Wage-System. Observe that we said '' one class 
 of men." For, while in our illustration we assumed that the 
 owners of the cotton mill had all the means, needed for their 
 enterprise, we know that in many cases employers have to rent 
 land on which to build their factories and to borrow money to 
 defray their expenses. Such employers, of course, do not put 
 all the fleecings into their own pockets, but have to divide with 
 land owners, bankers and other '■•gentlemen at large." But 
 the fact is — and on that it is we lay stress — that the workers 
 receive only about half of what they produce, just enough to 
 teep up life and strength and bring up a new generation of 
 laborers, while the other lialf stealthily passes into the pock- 
 ets of quite another class of men. 
 
 Now we can illustrate our "cakes," so that they present 
 this appearance : 
 
 Values for iS6o. 
 
 Values for 1850. 
 
 Wages . 
 
 -1 ■— ' 
 o ~ 
 
 - "^ 
 
 S- "^ 
 
 $ 437,000,000. 
 Product of Labor. 
 
 Wag-es. 
 
 Interest. 
 
 Profit. 
 
 Rent. 
 
 $ 805,000,000. Product of Labor. 
 Values for 1870. 
 
 Wages . 
 
 Interest. 
 
 Profit. 
 
 Rent. 
 
 $ 1,310,000,000. Product ot Labor. 
 
24 
 
 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 Values for i8So. 
 
 Wages. 
 
 Interest. 
 
 Profit. 
 
 Rent. 
 
 oq 
 
 $ 1,834,000,000. Product of Labor. 
 
 Here also is the place to note the answer to another ques- 
 tion which the object-lesson may siio:<;est : What is the 
 average amount which the employing cla?s fleeced from each 
 worker during the respective census years? 
 
 In 1850 it amounted to ^209.00; 
 '' 18G0 it was 327.50; 
 
 *' 1870 it rose to 345.00; 
 
 '' 1880 it dropped to 323.50. 
 
 By the way, we ought here to remark that it will not do to 
 trust implicitly these or other calculations that might be made 
 on figures in the Census Reports (remember it is the employ- 
 ers who have furnished all data) ; especially is a comparison 
 of one census year with another liable to be very misleading, 
 since one Report differs materially from another both in meth- 
 od and accuracy. But these Reports are of great service, 
 when onl}^ as here, a rough, approximate idea of the reality 
 is required. 
 
 We then find that in 1880 — a fairly prosperous year, as all tlic 
 above census years were, compared with our years of dis- 
 tress — the employer paid the worker on an average $346 in 
 Avages and fleeced, on an average, from him the sum of $324. 
 That, perhaps, to many docs not seem extravagant. 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 25 
 
 But he who employed 10 workmen gained 83.2-10 
 
 '- '^ '' '^ 25 '' *• 8.10» 
 
 u u u u 5Q u u 16,200 
 
 u u 41 u 100 " " 32,400 
 
 »^ " " " 500 '' " 162.000 
 
 " '' '' " 1000 " '' 324.090. 
 
 Three Hundred and Twenty-four Thousand dollars this latter 
 emploj'er gained, fleeced, '-accumulated" (mark) ! in one 
 year I For what ? M'hat had the workers in return ? The priv- 
 ilege each to earn three hundred and forty-six dollars I The jjiiv- 
 ilege to use the soil, the machinery and all the resources of 
 our civilization, which this employer possesses I 
 
 It is on purpose that we so far in our exposition have avoid- 
 ed to use the word " Capital."" Politicnl Economists have sur- 
 rounded this category with such a hazy atmosphere that the 
 word now denotes a good many things. Yet, the question: 
 What is Capital? is of fundamental importance and relates to 
 the whole structure of our present Social order. We want 
 that question answered, and the preceeding pages, indeed, 
 have beon written for that purpose. But we are not concerned 
 about the meaning of the word — throughout this work we care 
 for the essence of things and not for the definition of words. 
 By "* Capital " Ave mean whtit in popular speech is meant. 
 
 He is called a ''capitalist" who possesses wealth which 
 brings him an income icithout any ivoi'k on his part. True, 
 luany capitalists do some work of one kind or another, but 
 the remuneration they receive for that work has nothing to do 
 with their incomes as ''capitalists" ; these latter are something 
 over and above such remuneration. We, therefore, mean by 
 " Capital " : that part of Avealth wdiich yields its possessors an 
 income without work. But we are just as willing to adopt the 
 defuntion of some Economists, that Capital is '' the part of 
 wealth which is eni\-)loyed pi-oductively with a vieio to profit by 
 sale of the produce." for it is only by being thus employed, 
 that it fields an income. 
 
 The question, then, which we are now intent upon finding 
 an answer to is : What is the nature, the essence of that which 
 
26 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 we have agreed to call '• Capital "? We want to laiow it, and 
 therefore must learn tlie process ot its origin. That is a com- 
 paratively easy tiling* to us who already know the origin of 
 the '' Suri)lus." Siinpl}^ observe what our moneyed men. the 
 operatoi-s of tlie cotton mill, are doing. Tliey add their llee- 
 cings to what wea'th they had already, and make that increased 
 wealth pass through sucJi another o])eratioii as we already 
 liave described. The oftener they do that and the more op- 
 eratives they emplov, the more surplus labor their wealth ab- 
 sorbs. Noio loe have '• Capital"' and ''"Capitalists.'" It is 
 these fleecings which, absorbed by wealth, turns it into •' Cap- 
 ital," and the pocketing these fleecings turns wealthy men in- 
 to •• capitalists.'' 
 
 Note, '" Sui-plus'" is the same as "• fleecings," is the difference 
 hhLween the price of Labor and the price of Labor s produce., is 
 the latter minus ( — ) the former. 
 
 Capital is the original little amount of wealth with which (.ur 
 employers stait — which they may and may not liave earned — 
 plus (+) the sum of surplus values; is accumulated fleecings — 
 accumulated withheld wages. 
 
 Therein consists, really, the so-called "productivity" of 
 Capital: in possessing the spongy capacity of steadily going 
 on absorbing surplus labor. This capacity distinguishes it 
 from all other wealth (which other wealth the old Economists 
 called, very hapi^iiy Tlevcnue.) Far be it from us to deny the 
 inval'iable assistance which Capital renders to Labor. Dut 
 Capital produces no Values whatever; it enables Labor to be 
 immensrly more productive, that is all. 
 
 We have now reached the very core, the grand secret of the 
 present mode of production. This fact, that such a thing as 
 '* Capital" exists, that it is acquired and increases, legiti- 
 mately, by fleecing those in its employ by the wage-system — 
 a f;ict, unknown to all former periods — is the one characteris- 
 tic mark of this era; wherefore it may with propriety be di.'S- 
 ignated : the Capitalist era. 
 
 We took our illustration from the manufacturing industries. 
 The pame lesson however, might have been equally well drawn 
 from agriculture, to the extent that the cultivator of the farm 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 27 
 
 or plantation employs wagc-laboiers. And we ariive at the 
 same results, if we direct our aitention to the legitimate com- 
 mercial enterprises. For commerce, — legitimate commerce — 
 is an i'-idustry, and a productive industry. Tlie labor of those 
 enijaged in causiiig the <loth of the cotton mills of New Knjr- 
 land to be transported to tlie heart of our continent and in 
 their handing it out in small pieces to consumers creates an 
 additional value in these pieces as fully as the labor of the 
 operatives <*reates value. But here, also, the prolits which 
 swell the fortunes of our merchant '• i)rinces" are not the 
 result of their labor, but fleecings, exactions, li-om the labor 
 of their employees. The scores of millions of an A. T. 
 Stewart were the result of the woik of thousands of his fel- 
 low men — fleeced from them by the process, ali'cady described. 
 
 Thus in all industries, manufiicturing, mining, agricultural 
 and commercial, tlie logitimare fleecings Avhich go to make 
 up ^"apital, come out of the producers — we say legitimate fleec- 
 ings, foUovdng naturally, as they do, from i he Mage-sys- 
 tem. They are all fleecers, whether it be the capitalist who 
 joins millions to his millions, or the workingman who brings 
 his hard earned earnings to the bank for the sake of the in- 
 terest. One is not better tlian the other. We do not blame 
 either; they simply conform to the system w^e are living un- 
 der. But we claim, that in this difference between wages paid 
 and the proceeds of Labor, in this little foldlies hidden the f/rrm 
 of all profit, interest and rent, of all pauperism and of nearly all 
 modern crime. 
 
 Now we can justly estimate the accounts which recent econ- 
 omists have given us of Capital. Some, with the evident de- 
 sign of drawing their attention away from the fleecing process, 
 Seek to confound men's minds with most reckless definitions. 
 When in popular speech knowledge and skill are called " (ap- 
 ical," every one is aware that it is a metaphor. But when 
 economists gravely apply that term to such acquisitions, to 
 the wheel-barrow of the day laborer and the wooden horse of 
 the wood-sawyer, then we have a right to dismiss them, some- 
 what contemptuously, with the remark, that in such case we 
 are all, indeed a band of brother capitalists — since every bod if 
 
28 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 has, at least, got a coat to his back — such as it is; — but theii^ 
 also, we have amongst us a great many starving "capitalists." 
 Then the German economist who chiims the title of " capital- 
 ist" for the bear who goes into winter quarters with lots of 
 fat on him is no wit after all, but a sober ti-uth-telier. 
 
 Others, again, J. S. Mill among them, attribute capital to 
 saving. The tendency of such an account is equally obvious. 
 It insinuates, that capitalists are a highly deserving class of 
 people, indeed, since it is due to their abnormal, unselfish "ab- 
 stinence." that we have any Capital at all! 
 
 Well, all that we have is either consumable or inconsuma- 
 ble. The consumable goods like grain or meat — cannot be 
 '^ saved" for any length of time; they must be consumed, or 
 they spoil ; the capitalists therefore onlysave herein the same 
 way that soldiers *' save " the chickens from being eaten by 
 the enemy. The inconsumable things, like machinerj'. leath- 
 er, coin — must be *• saved" anj-how, since they cannot be de- 
 voured. And if it is any merit in capitalists, that they have 
 "saved" ?, e.. not devoured these, why — then it must be ac- 
 counted them a merit, we suppose, that they have "saved" 
 the very earth, or the moon, since they have not consumed 
 these as yet ! " Saving," therefore, is absolutely inappropri- 
 ate here, as it properly means the accumulating such thing 
 which might have been consumed. 
 
 Much more to the point, therefore, is that other stereotypic 
 definition of Capital, that it is ••accwmwZaiecZ Labor." Yes it 
 is; but why then do those who work most not '* accumulate" 
 Capital? Ah, nothing is so dangerous as a truth in a delusive 
 dress. This definition omits to state, who does the laboring 
 and loho the accumulating. What a heaven-wide difterence 
 there is between the two activities, we liave already noted. 
 But the definition by that very omission, though it looks so in- 
 nocent, insinuates that Capital at large is formed b}- wage- 
 laborers laying up their earnings, and that in that way they be- 
 come the capitalists. This insinuation is. to speak emphati- 
 cally, a falsehood. The first thousand dollars may sometimes 
 be formed in that way; the following millions — never. It is 
 simply impossible. Let us suppose a laborer earning $2.00 a 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 29 
 
 day — a good deal more than the average wage — that he works 
 steadilj' along, that lie never loses a day's work, that he is 
 never sick, that lie lives like a Chinese, and thus i> able to save 
 up half of his wages : .$1 .00 a da}'. It will take hi:n more than 
 3U00 — Three Thousand — years to accumulate a million ! It is 
 this contemptible jugglery with words that the iSocialist cri- 
 tique unmasks. 
 
 Now, furthermore, we can understandone very curious phe- 
 nomenon, to wit: how it comes that the charging of interests 
 was, until not so very long ago, considered infamous, while 
 now it is considered the moi^t natural thing in the world? A 
 conscientious man, like Jeremy Uentham. wanted even to make 
 it out to be one of the *• natural rights of man." The reason 
 of the change must lie in the nature of things. 
 
 The common arguments in favor of interest are transparent- 
 ly flimsy. They say, interest is a reward for abstinence. We 
 have already seen what kind of abstinence that is, — that of 
 not devouring gold coin and locomotives. But even if the 
 capitalist were abstinent, why should he be especially re- 
 warded for it by an increase? The apple which the boy ab- 
 stains from eating before going to bed does not grow bigger 
 during the night— the boy's " reward *' consists in his having 
 his apple the next morning. The German economist. Prof. 
 Roscher. is honest enough to admit : •' Kent is an appropria 
 tion of the gifts of nature, and interest, at best, a further Iruit 
 obtained by f rugalitj', from older labor, already remunerated." 
 
 That other argument^ that interest is the i^ayment of a ser- 
 vice rendered by the lender to the borrower is not better, foi 
 the service is reciprocal. The borrower preserves the capital 
 for the lender ; no slight service, since most capital will decay 
 when not in productive use. Socialists give the only satisfac- 
 tory t'xplanation, and here it is: 
 
 The Roman Jarists used to say: 'MVhat is mostly done 
 governs all other cases." In former times when people bor- 
 rowed money, .they generally did it, because they were in dis- 
 tress, and it was. very naturally, deemed disgraceful to take 
 advantage of another's misfortunes. The law and the Church 
 therefore, denounced all interest as usury. But now-a-days 
 
30 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 a person generally borrows money, in ortler to '•make "mon- 
 ey in the manner we have described. The '' tronble" he is 
 in, is the trouble how to get ricli, — and the capitalists like to 
 share that trouble with him. Interest, now. is iiothihg but a 
 part of the fleecings, nothing but a fair division — therefore 
 l)roper. 
 
 Now W'e can fitly characterize the " harmony," the " part- 
 nership " — compared to that of the Siamese Twins — between 
 Capital and Labor, about which our comfortable classes talk 
 so unctuously. 
 
 *"lf there be in this world a partnership between men which 
 is natural, wise and useful " exclaimed lately Iloscoe Conkling 
 in one of his eflbrts, '' it is the partnership between Capital 
 and Labor." 
 
 Indeed, Capital and Labor are just as harmonious as roast 
 beef and a hungry stomach. There is the most beautiful har- 
 nion3% the most natui-al partnership, between the two — lohin 
 they are united in one hand. But what another contemptible 
 jugE'ling with w^ords we here have! As if there were no dif- 
 ference at all between Capital and individual •• capital — ists\ " 
 
 Labor, indeed, could not get along very well wiihout Cap- 
 ital. But we are not so sure, that our workers would not get 
 along tolerably well, if some beneficent spirit should take 
 all our capitalists and carry them up to some othtr planet, say 
 "Venus ; especially if thej* had to leave their Capital behind them. 
 And. after all, they might take their Capital along with them 
 — wliatthcy could carry away — for Edward Atkinson has told 
 us that we should all be starving within one year, naked with- 
 in three, and houseless within ten years, if Capital was not 
 constantly being re-created by Labor. 
 
 The beautiful harmony between capitalists and laborerii is 
 happily illustrated by Carlyle in the address of Plugson, Che 
 manul'actuier, to his workmen: 
 
 ''Noble spinners! We have gained a hundred thousand 
 pounds, which is mine; thethreeand sixpence daily was yotn's. 
 Adieu, drink my health with this groat each, which I giv5» 
 you over and above." 
 
THE PPwOFIT SYSTEM. 31 
 
 There is, as a matter of fact, cZis-harraony between Labor, 
 reduced to a ware, and Capital, wlietlier in the torin of grain, 
 or meat, or stone, or metal, or wootl . or clay which is labelled : 
 '• hands off ! " There is. as a matter of f:ict, discord between 
 the worker — to whom nothing is coming boj'ond necessaries 
 and decencies of life; to whom even the most loathsome and 
 irksome labor does not insure subsistance ; who is not benefit- 
 ted by his own increased capacity of production ; who is fir 
 from becoming richer the more ho works — and the capitalist 
 who. contrariwise, becomes richer the more the workers toil 
 for him ; who is constantly being immensely benefited by ev- 
 ery increase in productive capacity. Insteadof harmony there 
 is, as a matter of fact, more than discord; thoreisac7i7'omcu"ar- 
 fare between Capitalists and Laborers, and as an evidence of 
 it we point to — Strikes. 
 
 Capital and Labor Siamese Twins I Are capitalists and la- 
 horers Siamese Twins ? Why ? Because they are in contact with 
 each other? So are the horse-leech and its victim. 
 
 Socialism has a serious dispute with Political Economy or 
 rather with its present teachers. The founders of the science 
 taught many truths; truths which we acknowledge and on 
 which Socialism, indeed, builds. But its professors claim that 
 it tells nations how to become prosperous. It does no such 
 thing. It tells individuals how to get rich : audit has found 
 apt pupils in every civilized country. The wealth of the 
 civilized world is incredibly large and increasing at an incred- 
 ible rate. Its present magnitude may be appreciated from the 
 fact, that the wealth accumulated in England during the, pres- 
 ent century is far greater than all the wealth accumulated dur- 
 ing all previous centuries. Or to come down to figures: The 
 wealth of the United Kingdom was: 
 
 In 1800 Nine Thousand Million Dollars; 
 
 In 1840 Twenty '' 
 
 In 18G0 Thirty "- '' '' 
 
 In 1880 Forty-five*' '' " 
 
 Could human elTcu'ts have accomplished more.' But is this 
 enormous Wealth •• National Wealth," as is pretended? 
 
32 THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 
 
 What part have the beg<T^ars in the streets of London in it? 
 AVhat part have tlie Biitish workingnien, who created this 
 wealth, in it? We shall see. 
 
 The income of the United Kingdom in 1879 amounted to 
 5,o25 million dollars, distributed as follows: 
 
 The w^orkiug-classes (12 million persons) had 2,140 million 
 dollars, or § 178 to the person ; while all others (3 million per- 
 sons) had 3,185 million dollars; of the latter, again a little 
 over 9.300 individuals had ^100,000 apiece. One hundred and 
 seventy-eight dollars a year — that, tlien, is the share of the 
 British worker in the "■National" wealth. * 
 
 Om* Political Economists are yet more guilty. Thej'^make 
 their science sanction our present industrial arrangements, in- 
 stead of explaining them. They virtually teach that, be- 
 cause things are as they are, they will always remain, and 
 ought always to remain so. Socialists, or Social — Econo- 
 mists, as they might call themselves, use the truths of Po- 
 litical Economy to prepare for a higher stage of development, 
 show the workers that though now 
 
 " The seed ye sow another reaps ; 
 The wealth ye find another keeps ; " 
 
 it will not always be so, and urge that a Social Order which per- 
 mits certain individiuals to appropriate the withheld wages of 
 ^'cnerjtions ot weary workers ought not to last. 
 
 The first lesson of Socialism, then, is that the Wage-System^ 
 the Profit-System, the Fleecing-System, is utterly unfit for 
 a higher civilization. 
 
 ''Cut you are not fair. You have entirely omitted to state 
 that these individuals do contribute to the size of your ' cakes.' 
 
 ♦Do not jump at the conclusion, that because the British 
 workingmaii is paid $'178 a year ai)d the American s34(5. that 
 Iherefon; the latter is twice as well off as the former, in 
 Eiigland a given suui may go tvvici; as far as ln-re — for many 
 reasons, one of which is trmtthe '• store-oith'r ■'systen). so ex- 
 tensively practised here, is in England sternly forbidden by 
 law. 
 
THE PROFIT SYSTEM. 33 
 
 They direct all these enterprises, a work of considerable impor- 
 tance." 
 
 Granted. Thoy do direct, or see to it that somebody directs. 
 But is half the cake not a pretty dear price for overseeing 
 its baking? Could not that work be done in some other 
 way, just as well and somewhat cheaper? 
 
CHAPTER n. 
 
 SOCIAL ANAKCHY. 
 
 ''We all can see that there are all over our country energies 
 which cHii find no employment or, at all events, minds which 
 are cruelly compressed into duties far too narrow, and, on Ilia 
 other hand, work which remains undone for want of adequate 
 ener«'-i('S. because no systematic attempt has yet been made to 
 e."«tin)ate tlie rcjil needs of the social organism and to distrib- 
 ute its loHM's in accoidance with them. — There is no organic 
 ailjiistment anywhere." — The "• Fa/we of Life^'''' an American 
 work. anon. 
 
 ••Competition gluts our markets, euahles the rich to take ad- 
 vantage of the necessities of the poor, makes each man snatch 
 the bread out of his neighbor's mouth, converts a nation of 
 bretlireii into a mass of hostile, isolated units, and linally in- 
 volves capitalists and laborers in one common ruin." — Greg. 
 
 '•It is not to die, or even to die of hunger that makes a man 
 wrerched; n)any men have died; all men must die. But it is 
 to live niiserable, we know not why; to work sore and yet 
 gain nothing; to be heartworn, wearj% yet isolated, unrelated, 
 girt in with a cold universal Laissez-faire,'*'' — Carlyle. 
 
 The wage-system may be said to be of vital interest only to 
 the wage-workers. They are a considerable part of the na- 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 35 
 
 tion. They include not only the operatives in our factories 
 aiul mines, but tlie whole army of railroad employees, all hired 
 napn on farms, all clerks engaged in stores and mercantile es- 
 tablishments; all. in fact, who help to creat(^ Values and re- 
 ceive a stated sahij-y. And if not their luimbeis but the Val- 
 ues produced by tliem constitute- the measm'e of tlieir impor- 
 tance, they will be found very much to oveibalance our inde- 
 pendent fai-mers. The whoh- agricultural class (7.600.000 per- 
 sons.) indeed, did not create more wealth in 1S80 than our 
 manufacturing operatives alone (2.700.000 in number.) But 
 though the wage-workers are a:i irrtportant fraction of our 
 population they, nevertheless, are but a fraction. If Socialism 
 had regard to thera only, it were nothing but a cZass-move- 
 ment. 
 
 We claim there is a something-wrong in Society which vi- 
 tally affects the whole nation and every individual of it. In 
 prosperous years it may not obtrude itself on the attention of 
 thoughtless people, but let '' hard times " come on, and it 
 makes everybody feel uneasJ^ What is this "something- 
 wrong ■' ? Socialists say that it is nothing less than the meth- 
 od, the polic}^, which governs all activities of the principal 
 nations of our time. It is spreading itself in Catholic socie- 
 ties, and throughout the whole world, but it arose in Protes- 
 tant countries. It is, in fact, simply the exaggerated form of 
 one of the principles of Protestantism: the independence of 
 the individual ; which exaggerated individual independence 
 we can properly call : Individualism. We can also call the pol- 
 icy : the '' let alone " policy; its admirers give it a more eu- 
 phonious name : Private Enterprise. 
 
 Len alone lohora — what? 
 
 In the middle ages t!ie feudal barons erected castles, from 
 which the\' issued forth with their retainers, when they espied 
 merchants and adventurers approaching on the contiguous 
 highwa3's laden with wealth, stopped tliem — and levied tolls. 
 All that these barons desired was to be •* let alone." In our 
 age it is the spiritual descendants of these merchants and ad- 
 ventui'ers who have grown powerful, fattened on *"' lleecings." 
 They in their turn demand to " be let alone;" they demand 
 
36 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 that society shall be an unrestricted hunthig ground for their 
 ''enterprise." They are let alone; we shall now note \\ith 
 what results to the different classes of society. 
 
 Before our i)resent industrial system got into full swing — 
 that is, betore the power of steam was utilized — the master- 
 workman was an adept in liis trade and owned his tools and 
 the raw-materials lie used. This is all now changed. The work- 
 man is now divorced from his implements and raw materials 
 which have got under the complete control of the capitalist 
 class; he now hus nothing left but his naked labor. This it 
 is, again, which enables omployers to buy labor in the market 
 for a ])ricemuch below the productivity of that labor; that is 
 at a value much below its toorih. 
 
 This monopoly lias mad(j employers into a class of autocrats, 
 the laborers int(^ a class of dependents — of hirelings. As 
 Jesse Jones saj'S I:; Lbe "International Ucviow," of October 
 1S80; •• A class is hxed, when nine-tenths of those comprising 
 it can never get out of it. * * * Why mock workingmeu by 
 putting rare exceptions for a general rule? " 
 
 The laboring men are dealt with by our managers as mere 
 tools. They are spoken of as tools, as things. This humani- 
 tarian age counts steers and sheep by *• heads" and the work- 
 ers by *-Aands." A pity God did not make them only *• hands I " 
 
 It is a paltry evasioii to say, that the workers are free to con- 
 sent or to refuse the terms of the employer. It is an evasion 
 worthy of the man who asked permission of the Virgin to rob 
 her of her necklace — and then did it. taking silence for con- 
 sent. T'he Laborers have to consent. If they refuse the terms, 
 capitalists sim[)ly stop business; they can stand it. •" Hard 
 times'" are really only hard on those whobc subsistence de- 
 pends on having work to do. Tlie wives and daughters of 
 capitalists do, as a rule, not leave off during •' hard times'' at- 
 tending operas in their silks, satins and diamonds; do not, as 
 a rule, quit their luxurious brownstone-f routs or dismiss their 
 liveried servants. 
 
 Henry George in his '' Progress and Poverty'' epitomizes 
 the position of our laborers as follows : '" Compelled to more 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 37 
 
 continuous labor tlian the savage, the laborer — a mere link in 
 an enormous chain of i>roducers and consumers, helpless to 
 separate himself and helpless to move, except as they move 
 — gains the mere necessaries of life, just what the savage 
 gets, and loses the independence of the savage." And as to 
 security he is not much better off The irregularity of his 
 employment, the frequency with which he is out of vvorlv, is 
 th J aijst uiannia^ faature of the workiagmau's condition. And 
 that irregularity is often, very often, pui-poseiy brought about 
 by tne einpk)3'ing capitalist class. For ia-stance, in order to 
 put up the price of anthracite coal, out of twcntj'-four work- 
 ing days of a certain month nine were made idle days by tiie 
 coal compar.ies of Pennsylvania. The mining was interrupt- 
 ed to iiaiic sui)ply and the miners were left to do the best they 
 could with work for two days out of every three. 
 
 'I'iiis condition lias been rendered yet enormously more pre- 
 carious by the remarkable industrial inventions of the age. 
 
 These victories of man, of Societ}', over Nature's physical 
 forces ougiit cerlainiy to have been miquaiitied blessings to 
 all. 
 
 Yet, how often have they proven instruments of tortui-e to the 
 working class! How many has Liie introduction of new ma- 
 chinery not thrown out of employment; how many exist- 
 ences have not thereby been destroj'cd! 
 
 We are familiar with tlic commonplace, that the outcry of 
 laborers against ** new-fangled machinery '' is a complaint born 
 of ignorance; that in the end the working classes areas umcli 
 benetitted as other classes. This outcr}^ is by 1:0 means noth- 
 ing but an ignorant cliildlsli complaint. Machinery would be 
 an unquaiilied blessing, if the temporary injury which it so 
 often has caused to individuals and whole bodies of UKm were 
 considered in a spirit of social justice and brotherliness, That 
 has never been done wherever the working clauses are con- 
 sidered^ either in tiiis or any other country. In their case our 
 legislators persistently repudiate the duty to take care of the 
 iuterescs of those who are sacriticed for the benetit of their 
 fellow citizens and of posterity, iiut whenever other classes 
 have bei^n thus aliected there iuis never been the sliif htest hesita- 
 
33 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 tioii to liberally compensate those, prejudicially affected. It 
 is the action of Society thnt has made machinery an evil. This 
 is the real meaning of the outcry against " newfangled ma- 
 chinery." 
 
 And we deny that working people hitherto have been essen- 
 tially benefitted by machinery and inventions at all. The sew- 
 ing macliine is a pointed illustration. That was thought, at 
 all events, to be a blessing to the overworked, famishing needle- 
 woman. Yet what has followed? That she is now still more 
 overworked, more poorly paid and her health siill more en- 
 dangered. 
 
 But, to be sure — these inventions were not adopted by cap- 
 italists for the benefit of workpe >ple, or for the general bene- 
 fit; no, indeed! For, of course, tiiis machinery and these in- 
 ventions have also gone into the hands of capitalists and are 
 controlled by them for their exclusive benefit; and with ad- 
 mirable results. It has been calculated that two-thirds of all 
 benefit arising from the use of machinery liavc goiic to those 
 ''j>ushing" follows and the remaining one-third to the con- 
 sumers. Even our patt-.nt laws, with the general advantage for 
 their primary idea, have become a means of enabling these 
 capitalists, in no sense inventors, to levy heavy tribute upon 
 the comnumity for an indefinite length of time. 
 
 •'• Ah ! but the workers are also consumers, we should think, 
 and form the majority in fact of all consumers." ' 
 
 Hold on, sir! Has macliinenj lightened the daffs toil of any 
 worker? That is what ought to »neasure the benefits of ma- 
 chintry to him. Let us see, if it has. 
 
 Here is one picture : Massachusetts is a model state, we 
 siippose. Well, a statute; of that State in 1860 made ten hours 
 a maxium working day for children under twelve years of age, 
 
 In 1807 her legislators became a little more humane and en- 
 acted that no child wwdaY fifteen years of age should work more 
 than sixty hours a week. Go to Pennsylvania, and see children 
 ten years old taken down every morning into the mines to 
 work! Here is another picture: In England, two bundled 
 years back ten hours were a normal working day for strong black' 
 
SOCIAL ANAECIIY. 39 
 
 tmiths and robust agricultural laborers. * 
 
 •' But compare tlie comforts of our laborers two hundred 
 years ago. What a wouderful betterment hi that respect ! " 
 
 What of it? What comfort is that to our hiborersV You 
 might as well compare their condition with that of a savage 
 in Africa who does not need a coat, does not need soap. Just 
 so the laborers of a former age did not need a good many 
 things whicli now are necessaries or deceucies of life. We say 
 their condition has not improved, because it takes considera- 
 ble more toil to procure the needful now than it did then, as 
 testified to, among others, by Hallam : '' The laborer is much 
 inferior in abiUty to support a iamily than were his ancestors 
 four centuries ago." Why ! before the beginning of this ''cap- 
 italistic" system laborers could in England live a whole week 
 upon the earnings of four days '^ now in Massachusetts he often 
 cannot live a week upon the earnings of a week of much more 
 continuous toil. No, in many cases he is obliged to disrupt 
 his family and send his wife and children to the factory. 
 
 For that is the greatest curse of machinery — or rather of 
 '' individualistic'''' monopoly of machinery — that capital can be 
 and is coined out of women and even out of infancy ; that 
 women and children can be and are substituted for men. Thus, 
 not alone are men turned into wares, governed by Demand and 
 Supply, but men are made to scramble for a precarious living 
 with their wives, sisters and children. In the cotton and woollen 
 factories of enlightened Massachusetts women and children 
 now compose two-thirds of the working force. The necessa- 
 ry result is a great reduction in wages. It is notorious that 
 the wages thus earnetl by a whole family do not, on an aver- 
 age, exceed those of the head of the family in occupations 
 where it has not yet become habitual to employ women and 
 children . 
 
 And do not venture to (io\n\)ViYet\\e independence of o\xv work- 
 ing classes with the artisans of England of a former age, who 
 partly worked for themselves, and possessed a cottage and a 
 
 ♦Thornton: Over population and its remedy Prof. Thor- 
 aldKogers: History of Agriculture in England. Hallam, 
 2nd part of 9th Chap, of '• The Middle Ages." 
 
40 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 COW and a strip of land to cultivate. Our ox-eyed, docile 
 wage- workers, restrained by arbitrary shop rules prescribed 
 by their lord — rules tliat forbid them to talk to each other or 
 even to laugh ( / ) — will not for a moment bear comparison with 
 the merry families of master and men of the despised Middle 
 Age. 
 
 The first result of the '"Let alone" System, thus, is that 
 capitalists monopolize all the instruments of production, all 
 the previous acquisitions of Society, all increase in the produc- 
 tivity of Labor, and therefore, exercise an autocratic control of 
 all industries and over the whole working class. 
 
 The great weapon at the command of the capitalist is Com- 
 petition. 
 
 *" Competition," like most economical terms, is a very slip- 
 pery word. At one time it means something which advances 
 the successful, but leaves the unsuccessfnl on his former level, 
 that kind of competition rouses the energ;y of both, of tlie un- 
 successful as well as of the successful and increases the ca- 
 pacity of both. We shall call that by a much more appropri- 
 ate term : Emulation. 
 
 At another time ••' competition " means the advancing one- 
 self at the cost of others; the pulling the many down, the el- 
 bowing the many aside, in order to advance the one. That 
 *' competition " is most ciuel to the individual and. in the 
 long run, most'lnjurious to Society. 
 
 It deserves the name of " cut-throat competition " when the 
 wage-workers are forced inU) a struggle to see who shall live 
 and who shall starve. 
 
 But these are by no means the only sufferers. The small 
 employers, the small merchants are just as much victims of 
 that cruel kind of competition as the wage-worker. For ev<'ry 
 one of the fleecers lives in a state of nature with all of his 
 brethren; the hand of the one is against the other, and no 
 foe is more terrible tlian the one who is running a neck-to-ncck 
 race with him every day. The mammoth factory, the mam- 
 moth store is a most implacable foe. The fierce competition 
 lessens the profit on each article, and that must be compensa- 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 41 
 
 ted foi by a greater number of them being produced and sold, 
 that is, the cheaper the goods, tlie more capital is required. 
 
 Precisely, therefore, for the same reason that tlie mechanic 
 with liis own shop and working on his own account nearly has 
 disappeared in the struggle between hand-work and machine- 
 work, the small employers with their little machinery, their 
 small capital and their little stock of goods are being driven 
 from the field. 
 
 Look at those queer ^n«ces of ours —vulgar men, far from 
 possessing eminent faculties or high attainments; mow having 
 no more knowledge or mental capacity than is reqnin*d in 
 many mechanical pursuits — who by the employment and 
 power of their capital yearly ruin multitudes of hard working 
 merchants, and boast that they are selling more goods in a 
 day than the whole " crowd " of other stores in a week ! Scores 
 of such small merchants, driven to the wall by an A. T. Stew- 
 art, had to be glad, if the "• prince *' would make them his ser- 
 vants and graciously allow them to help swell his millions. 
 
 In short, the smaller fortunes investetl in productive or com- 
 mercial enterprises are by this cnt-throat competition attract- 
 ed to the great capitals, just as iron filings are to the niagnft. 
 The great; capitalist triumphs, the small capitalist becomes a 
 clerk, wage-laborer or parasite of some kind or other; the 
 middle class disappears little by little. Our social order may fit- 
 ly be compared to a ladder of which the middle rounds are 
 being torn away, one by one. 
 
 This, then, is another fruit of Private "Enterprise." that 
 the small employers are gradually being rooted out by the great 
 capitalists. 
 
 1 n former periods Society was tormented with plagues, cansod, 
 as we now know, by ignorance and consequent violation of 
 the laws of health. Our era is cursed with Crises, occurring 
 far more frequently than plagues and causing with each oc- 
 currence as nuich misery. 
 
 Economists say, that these crises are caused by overproduc- 
 tion. '' Overproduction ! " — a remarkable word, in trutlu as 
 long as O'le unfed and unclad human being, willing to work, 
 
42 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 roams the earth. Would not our aucestorsof any preceeding 
 ai^e Iiave considered anyone who would have talked to them 
 of overproduction a lunatic? Could they, you think, have con- 
 ceived of sucii an •ibnorniiry as tliat any nation could ever suf- 
 fer from too much i;idu.-try, too much commerce, ^oo^nan?/ tools 
 and too much food? lUit we onglU. in order to be fair, to take 
 the word in the sense of these economists. They mean by 
 " overproduction '' a too lar^^e production, compared with the 
 effective demand. But, then, wliat is the cause of the too large 
 production? 
 
 Pnvate Enterprise Socialists s<\y. Private Enterprise com- 
 pels every producer to produce for himself, to sell for himself, 
 to keep all his transactions secret, without any regard what- 
 ever for anybody else in the wide world. But the producer 
 and mei'chait — the small ones, especiall}' — find daily out, that 
 their success or failure depend, in th^ first place, precisely on 
 how much others produce and sell^ and, in the second place, on a 
 multitude of causes — often on thiiigs that may happen thou- 
 sands of iniL's away — whicli doter.nine the po'.ver of purchase 
 of their customers. They have got no measure at hand at all 
 by which they can, even approximately, estimate the actual 
 cilective demand of consumers or ascertain the producing ca- 
 ])acity of their rivals. In other words : Private "Enterprise" 
 is a defiance of Nature's law which decrees that the interests 
 of Society ai'ii interdependent; and Nature punishes that defi- 
 ance in her own crude way by playing ball with these individ- 
 ualist'?, and what is worse, by rendering all production, all 
 commerce chaotic. Bisk is Nature's Ilevenge. 
 
 Just take a bird"s-e3'e view of the way Private '' Enterprise '' 
 mannges affairs. Observe how eyivy manufacturer, evcrj'' mer- 
 t hant strives in ev(M-y possible waj- — by glaring advertise- 
 ments, f)y underselling others, l)}' giving long ci-fdits, by send- 
 ing out an army of ditunmers — to beat his rivals. Not one 
 here and thei-e, not a few do this; they all do it. We shall 
 suppose the season a favorable one; all of them receive or- 
 dns in greater n'jmber than they expected. These orders 
 stimulate each owo. of the tnanufacturers to a more ajid more 
 enlarged production far ahead of the ( rders received, in the 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 43 
 
 hope of being able to dispose of all that is being prodacod. 
 But mark I this prodnctioii of all these mannfaeturers is and 
 in list necessarily be, absolutely pZajiZess. It depends altogeth- 
 er on chance and the private guesswork of these '• enterprising " 
 individuals, who ail are guessing entirely in the dark. That 
 means that all rheir production, all their commerce, is in the 
 nature of gambling. To a thoughtful observer nothing will seem 
 more inevitable, than that i\\\9, planless production must end in 
 the market being at some time overstocked with commodities 
 of one kind or another; that is, that it must end in "overpro- 
 duction" as to those goods. In that branch of production prices, 
 consequently, fall, wages come down, or a great manufactur- 
 er f dls, and a smaller or greater number of workmen are dis- 
 charged. 
 
 But one branch of industry depends upon another; one 
 branch suffers when another is depressed! The stoppage of pro- 
 duction at one point, therefore, necessarily shows itself at an- 
 other point in the industrial network. The circle of depression 
 thus grows larger and larger from month to month, fiiilure 
 succeeds failure, the general consumption diminishes, all pro- 
 duction and conuuerce is paralyzed. We have got the crisis. 
 To those who were all the time planning and working in the 
 dark everything seemed to be going on as usual ; it has natural- 
 ly come on them like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. 
 
 Vast quantities of stored up goods now have to be disposed 
 of at great sacrifice, to the ruin not alone of their owners but 
 of man}' others who thereby are forced, likewise, to sell u;idt>r 
 cost-price. Then it is we hear from everyone in ever}' calling 
 this the .strongest of all condemnations of this Social -• Ordei " 
 of ours: *" We have too many competitoi's; half of us must 
 perisli, befoie the other half can live." All the result of pZa?*- 
 less work. 
 
 When such a crisis ha« lasted for years, when such sacrifice 
 of goods and standstill of production has finally overcome 
 the •• overproductioij," then the inevitable demand at length 
 c.'ills for renewed production; aid Soeiet}^ commences to re- 
 cover slowly, but only to repeat the old'jStory. Producers 
 want to indemnify themselves for what they have lost and 
 
44 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 hope to "make" sufficient, before another crisis comes on. 
 Because all producers act m like manner, each one trying to 
 outflank the other, another catastrophe is invited. It responds 
 to the call and approaches witii accelerated strides and with 
 more damaging effects than any of its predecessors. 
 
 These crises very much quicken the absorption of the small- 
 er fortunes by the large ones, for tlie capitalist with large re- 
 sources is the only one capable in the long run of withstand- 
 ing this rough treatment of outraged Nature. The smaller cap- 
 italists the crises swallow np like veritable maelstroms. 
 
 Tliese mculstroms : the crises, then^ are the direct production of 
 Private Enterprise, 
 
 Again, we saw how the workingmen were driven out of their 
 employment as producers, how the small employers were pnsh- 
 ed out of their business by this cut-throat competition, in 
 nine cases out of ten tliey have only one refuge ic'.t: that of 
 squeezing themselves in bet\vo(;n producers and con-umers as 
 shopkeepers, saloonkeep;M"s. ped Hers, "agents." boarding-and 
 lodging-house-keepeis ; that is, of hQQommg parasites. 
 
 It may seem hard to speak thus of persons who by no means 
 lead an enviable existence, who honestly try to make some 
 sort of a living, whose life often is a tread-mill of diudgx i y 
 and, if different from that of the working-man's, is only dif- 
 ferent in this, that while the latter struggles foi* the nee '^^ities 
 of today, the lormer struggle for the threatened necessities of 
 tomorrow. 
 
 They are, nevertheless, parasites, unnecessary workers. Going 
 along our streets you observe one small store, one board! i:g- 
 liouse crowding another, one saloon, and often several, in one 
 block: 3'ou will have all kinds of men and women tin ust their 
 small stock into your face; in your house you will be annoyed 
 by all kinds of peddlers and agents, socalled. 
 
 All these people live. Somehodij must earn their living for 
 them. 
 
 In the first place, tliev live by enhancing the i)ii('e of pro- 
 visions and all other goods twice and three times what the ])ro- 
 dueers get. The difference between their prices and whol^. 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 45 
 
 sale prices makes just the difference between healtlifiil plenty 
 and lialf satisfied Iiunger for tlie poor. It is a j»Teat mistake to 
 suppose that competition always, or necessarily lowers prices. 
 It often lias just the contrary effect. Probabl}^ two-thirds of 
 existing small shopkeepers can not make a decent living with- 
 out extravagant profits. Or, if the prices can not be enhanced, 
 then 
 
 In the second plaee. they live by depreciating the quality 
 of their goods and by short weights and measures. Adulter- 
 ation of provisions and merchandize is notoriously carried on 
 in every branch of trade that wi 11 permit of it ; has indeed become 
 a social institution, against which no law can uiake any head- 
 way. A representative of a leading spice house lately said: 
 *' We sell to the trade more adulterated goods than pure. We 
 cannot help it. AVe simply sell the retailer what he wants. 
 It would ruin the trade to prohibit adulteration." Competition 
 in drugs is now so hot, dealers, in order to live, are compelled 
 to adulterate, to weaken and to substitute It has gone so far, 
 that manufacturers of "mineral pulp,'' now boldly imi)ortune 
 resjiectable millers and grocers to mix rock-dust with their 
 flour and sugar, 
 
 The laboring class, more than any other, is the natural prey 
 of these parasites. Remember, that the laborer's ware, his 
 labor, is never paid for till it has been used ; that he must 
 give his employer credit, always for a week, often for two 
 weeks or a month; that he will have to wait for his compen- 
 sation, even while the values he has created have been long 
 since converted into cash in his employer's hands. It is a neces- 
 sary consequence, that he, on his part, must ask credit from 
 his shopkeeper. He becomes the prej', bound hand and foot, of 
 that shopkeeper. He dare not murmur at the price charged, 
 dares not be over particular as to weight or qualit}'. He is pret- 
 ty much in the same fix as the fly in the spider's web. 
 
 Thus the portion of the industrial cake allotted to labor is 
 further considerably curtailed, and all on account of Private 
 ^'' Enterprise ; ''^ for it, also ^ is exclusively responsible for these 
 parasites. 
 
46 SOCIAL ANAKCHY. 
 
 Let lis pass over to our farmers. They, as yet the majonty 
 of our working popuhition, are still the great conservative 
 force, the brake, so to speak, on tlie wlieel of progress. Is it 
 likely that they will coutimie to be? We sliall see. 
 
 Our farmers were half a geucraiiou ago considered and ure 
 still considered the most independent and prosperous class of 
 the community. 
 
 True, the prosperity of the western farmer, especially, was 
 and is not of a character to excite the envy of anybody. His 
 whole life, and more particularly that of his wife, was one of 
 toil. He had to break our lauds and clear our forests. His 
 fainily had to subject themselves to all kinds of privations for 
 a lifetime of dreary years. The social life of the farmers' wives 
 was a mockery of our civilization; their f^isters struggling in 
 the cities had. at least, the comfort of suflfering in company. 
 To the family of the farmer sugar, tea and coftee were, for a 
 series of yeai'S. luxuries, especially when droughts and grass- 
 lioppers destroved the fruits ot his toil, generally as severe as 
 that of his horse. And his reward? That of vegetating and 
 '•raising" a family, as we so expressively term it; yes — 
 and of being the owner of his farm. 
 
 But his ownership is even now. frequently, one in name 
 only. The capitalist has got hold of him also. Ver}' many 
 of the western farms are covered with mortgages, which their 
 nominal owners have no hope of ever raising. This fact is so 
 well known, that the N. Y. " Times " some time ago advised 
 the farmers to prepare themselves for their fate. >Vhat 
 fate? 'J'hat of becoming tenant-farmers like their brethren 
 of Great Britain. 
 
 It is, especially, since the commencement of the last decade 
 that they are falling victims to •' Private Enterprise.'" 
 
 There is in the " Atlantic Monthly" for Jan iry ISSO a most 
 histructive article.* entitled *' Bonanza Farms." containing 
 many startling facts, which in the near future cannot but have 
 an important bearing on tho condition of our farmers. These 
 *•' Bonanza Farms" are vast Cultivated tracts of land in Min- 
 
 ♦ Embodied in a book called •' liand and Lalior," published 
 by 8cribuer and Sons. Mr. Moody of Bosto.i is the author. 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 47 
 
 f 
 
 nesota, Dakota, Texas, Kansas and California, ftach containing 
 thousands of acres of land owned by presidents and directors 
 of railways, by bankers in St. Paul and \< \v York, London 
 and Frankfort-on-the-Main. They are conducted on purely 
 '•business." — tliat is. capitalist principles. On these farms 
 thrre are no families, no womea, no children, no homes. There 
 is no need for them. But there is plenty of "Labor"' in the 
 neighborhood. Tiiere is snch an abundance of unemployed 
 luen, that the managers of the farms can hire all the labor they 
 want for !$16,00 a month, during the busy seasons with thir- 
 teen hours of d.iily labor, and for ^8.00 a month dnring the 
 balance of the year. 
 
 This fact alone would render it absolntoly out of the ques- 
 tion for the snrronnding small farmers to compete with the 
 bonanzas. For the former have to support a family, and to 
 feed, clothe and shelter, and altogether })rovlde for the same 
 number of persons thronghout the whole year, while the lat- 
 ter only need to hire about one-fourth the number of persons, 
 in proportion to the work to be done, and that for less than 
 one-fourth of the year. But the small farmer has other and 
 greater odds still to contend with : the discrimination practised 
 by other large coi porntions. Thus, the bonanzas obtain spec- 
 ial rates from the railroad companies : /. i. thev are charged 
 for the transportation of their produce rates, litty per cent be- 
 low those which the other farmers are obliged to pa}^; they 
 buy their machinery and farming implements of the manu- 
 facturers and dealers at a discount of 33 1-3 per cent. 
 from the published rates. We ought, tlierefoi-e. not to won- 
 der, when we are told, tliat the snri-ounding small farmers are 
 hop lessly in debt, while the owners ol these bonanza farms 
 — the aforesaid bankers and railroad-presidents — are amassing 
 colossal fortunes; tiiat they even with wheat at only 70 cts. a 
 bushel realize twenty per cent, the tiist year on their capital 
 and the second year — fifty-live per cent. 
 
 The article concludes with the remark : '* We are taking im- 
 mense strides in placing our country in the position of Great 
 Britain, and even worse." So it seems. For there the (arms 
 are practically homesteads, while the bonanza farms have noth- 
 
48 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 ing suggesting homes, except a building for the bachelor su- 
 porintendent and the boarding house for the "hands." 
 There is no doubt that these bonanzas will in the near 
 future increase greatly in number. Thus our public lands, 
 which were intended for happy homes are in a fair way o' be- 
 coming no better than penal colonies, and of being robbed o/ 
 their rich soil for the benefit of capitalist pockets. What 
 win then become of our farmer-'' propiietors " but farmer- 
 tenants? If they fire already running behindhand now^ how 
 much time will it take for the bonanza farmers to put an end 
 to their proprietorship, by means of Private ''Enterprise?" 
 Especially if our export to Europe, on account of good har- 
 vest there, should happen to cease. Bear in mind, that our 
 countiy already now produces far more food than our popula- 
 tion could possiblj'^ consume, and yet thousands of acres are 
 yearly added to the area under cultivation. 
 
 Yes, the time will come, when our farmers will learn, that 
 Socialism is the only refuge alike for them and the other work- 
 ing classes, and their ej'^es may be opened to the advantage of 
 the Cooperative Commonwealth. The great dairy farms in New 
 York State and elsewhere may also contribute their quota to 
 this lesson. 
 
 Thus even our farmers. 2i^ jQit\\Q most splendid yeomanry 
 the world has ever seen, are becoming the victims of Pnvate 
 Enterprise to fully the same extent as our workingman and small 
 employer. 
 
 But our big capitalists have a still more powerful sledge- 
 hannner than that of Competition ready at hand, to wit : Com- 
 bination. 
 
 These gentlemen know practical dialectics. They know, 
 that, though Competition and Combination areopposites, they 
 yet may come to mean the same thing — to them. They have 
 alread}'' found that while Competition is a very excellent weap- 
 on to use against their weaker rivals. Combination pays far bet- 
 ter in relation to their peers. It is evident, that it is combin- 
 ation they mainly rely upon for their future aggrandizement. 
 
 Combination consists in one or several capitalists or corpora- 
 
SOCIAL ANARCHY. 49 
 
 tions helping along a third, on the condition of participating 
 in the tleecings. Wc havL' already mentioned one sucii instance. 
 We saw how railroad officers united with bonanza farmers to 
 crrish out the small farmers. We read of another instructiv'e 
 iiistance in an article published in the •' Atlantic Monthly " for 
 Marcli 18S1, and lieaded: "'The story of a great MonopolJ^" 
 
 It tells, how I he Erie and Pennsylvania Railroads and Van- 
 deroiit " pooled their interests with the " Standard Oil Com- 
 pany," how they agreed to carry, and did carry its oil at much 
 lower rates tlian tiie oils of other companies, and in many cases 
 absolutely refused to carry the oils of the latter. It tells how, 
 by such discrimination, the fleeciugs of the •• Standard " 
 swelled to such an extent that, starting witli a capital stock of 
 one million, it paid to its stockholders a dividend of one mil- 
 lion dollars a month, and has now piled up in undivided profits 
 and other forms a capital of Thirty trillions. Truly a • -Great 
 Monopoly," a ver;/ dangerous monopoly^ one should think, for 
 rennsylv;inia and the public at large. 
 
 "Bj' the same tactics."' s:l3^s the vv.»ter. ''the Railroads can 
 give other combinations of ca~:*;alifits the control of the lum- 
 ber, cotton, ii-on and coal of the Unitecl States." 
 
 In Europe such alliances between Kailroads and corporations 
 would be imx)ossible. But i:i our country, \\\\q\'q Private •• En- 
 terprise " runs I'amijcints where the ''Let Alone" abomination is 
 carried to its highest logical pitch, such alliances are certain 
 to be a prominent feature of our future. 
 
 But the evils which flow from the something-wrong in So- 
 ciety is not confined to wage-workers, farmers and small em- 
 ployers. The at present existing relations of men constitute 
 the comfortless mutual slavery of us all, as we sliail tlnd, 
 wherever we turn. Professional men of every kind can. al-o. 
 be divided into those who have and those who have not; and 
 those among them who have not are fully as bad ofl' as the 
 wage-workers, indeed worse oft', for their culture becomes an 
 additional curse to them. We will suppose such a man has 
 talents, that he has qualified himself by hard study for a re- 
 sponsible fiujction in Society, yet this anarcliical Society has 
 
50 SOCIAL AJVAKCUY. 
 
 no opening for him. He perhaps becomes a clerk, just as much 
 depejident on his emph)yer just as inuuh a hirelinrj as the wage- 
 worker is; lie likewise must hold his tongue, and constantl}'- 
 be on the lookout to preserve the lavor ol' his august autocrat, 
 while he all the while is doing the work of others who really 
 receive the pay. 
 
 What a spectacle, for instance, does the medical profession 
 present! One successful practitioner we lind burdened with 
 more work than mortal man can perform — in the surrounding 
 streets twenty unhappy men. eacii ot whorn as laboriouslj' 
 trained, wasting their capabilities, starving, perhaps, for want. 
 Under better arrangements these twenty would form a corps 
 of subalterns under the really ablest physician — and not mere- 
 ly the most successful impostor — physicking people for head- 
 aches, while the latter treated only more dilficult cases. 
 
 But now, even in all professions, the watchword is, " Every 
 one look out for himself and the devil take the hindmost " — 
 all due to Unrestricted Private *' Enterprise.'^'' 
 
 Our era may be called the Jewish Age. The Jews have, 
 indeed, had a remarkable influpnce on our civilization. Lonj; 
 ago they infused in our race the idea of one God, and now 
 they have made our whole race worship a new true God : 
 The Golden Calf; but, again, it is Jews — such noble Jews as 
 Karl Marx and Lassalle — vvho have sounded the alarm for the 
 most determined battle agahist this very Jewism. •' Jewism." 
 to our mind, best expresses that special curse of our age. 
 Speculation., the transterof wealth from others to themselves 
 by chicanery without giving an equivalent. 
 
 If there is one species of gambling more despicable than 
 another, it is gambling in grain. The sales of grain on our 
 Produce-Exchanges are merely gambling transactions Cliques 
 of the wealthiest men in Chicago, Milwaukee and New York, 
 having behind them banks and other moneyed corporations, 
 make enormous combinations of capital to *' corner '' the mark- 
 et, locking up millions of bushels of wheat, and maintain fau)- 
 ine-prices in the midst of plenty. Their profits are enormous. 
 So are those of another clique who owns all pork. And where 
 
SOCIAL AXARCHY. 51 
 
 do those profits come from? From the workers, of coarse 
 from the bread-winners, wJio tluis earn the support and the 
 wealth, not only of their employers, their so-called " bread- 
 givei's,'''' but of those Vampires who use their backs as the green 
 table on which to play their games. 
 
 The Vampii-es are quite different creatures from the para- 
 sites we already have treated of. The latter are workers, though 
 superfluous vvorkerg,the former are not workers at all. Hut 
 then, they do not call themselves workers either, but — •'' I usi- 
 ness men." There is quite a difference between work and 
 business as that word is now comujonly used. *' Work " is ef- 
 fort to satisfy wants, and may be cither useful or useless; but 
 "■ business " is effort to benefit by the work of others^ and if that 
 *s to be called '" work," it is at any rate mischievous work; in 
 that sense our criminals, also, work and generally pretty hard. 
 '"^y oik'''' is being busy in benefit; "'business" being busy in 
 mischief. Our parasites are useless workers; our Vampires 
 are not better than thieves and swindlers. 
 
 On a par with Speculation is much of our ''Traffic." The 
 *• enterprise " of our mercantile *' kings " and "princes" is 
 very often but another name for cliicanery and swindling. 
 "Suppose," John Kuskin says, ^' a community of three men 
 on an ishmd. Two, the one a farmer and the other a mechan- 
 ic, are so fiir apart, that they are wholly at the mercy of the 
 third who travels between them, and efiects their exchanges. 
 He is constantly watching his opportunities, and retains the 
 products of the one with which he has been intrusted 
 and which are needed hy the other, until there conies a period 
 of extreme need for them and he can exact enormous gains 
 from their necessities. It is easy to see that, while he may in 
 tliat way draw tlie whole wealth of the community to him- 
 self and make liis principals his servants, he also in fact di- 
 minishes the amount of wealth by cramping the operations of 
 his two customers and diminishing the effective results of their 
 labors. That is Wealth, acquired on the strict principles of 
 Political Economy." And the millions which go into the pock- 
 ets of these mercantile men of ours as " profits " are by them 
 called reward for *' enterprise" '• compensation for risk," — 
 
52 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 Do we call the gains of the swindler or the robber "compen- 
 sation for risks?" Xo, commerce^ \\'a\z\\ is the interchange of 
 commodities, is a most beneficial social activit}^ ; Traffic, Trade, 
 which, as Herbert Spencer sa\^s. is ••essentially corrnpt," 
 which partakes of the nature either of gambling or overreach- 
 ing, is not 
 
 lliese Vampires are the offspring of the •' Let Alone " Policy. 
 
 '' Laissez-faire,"' '^ Let alone " — leave tlie upright at the mer- 
 cj-'oftlie cunning; leave the ignorant to t;'acli themselves; 
 leave everyone vvlio profits by a corrupt system to make the 
 most for himself; let Labor remain sometliing wholesale out 
 of which fortunes are made and which dtiri)ig that process 
 yields such and such a per ceniage of .Misery and Sin — what a 
 grand ^' principle ! "" B}^ adopting it for its guiding-star our 
 Society ha« achieved — Anarchy, 
 
 Our comfortable classes talk much of " Social Order.-'' In 
 ancient Greece and Rome there was Social •• Order." such 
 as it was; during part of the Middle Age, there was Social 
 •* Older." such as it was. But in our age there is, as we have 
 seen, throughout our whole economic sphere no social order 
 at all. There is absolute Social Anarchy. It is against this 
 Social Anarchy that Socialism, chielly. is a protest. 
 
 We have seen the various phases of tins anarchy, all the le- 
 gitimate outgrowth of private •• enterprise: " 
 
 All instruments of production are monopcdized. The evil 
 of this inonoj^oly does not so much consist in the plutocrat 
 being the undisputed owner of that which he has acquired 
 (Ihe sum total of which is now so veiy inappropriately called 
 National wealth.) Though formed outof Meecingsand in no otli- 
 er manner whatsoever, lie can claim these acquisitions as his 
 property, because he has got iiold of them by the express con- 
 sent of Society. The evil lies in this, tliat he is able and per- 
 mitted to use this property of his to further fleece his fellow- 
 men out of the proceeds of their toil. 
 
 This private enterprise is responsible for our crises, the in- 
 evitable consequences of defying the natuial law of Solidarity 
 between all the members ot Society. 
 
SOCIAL ANAKCHY. 53 
 
 It has produced our parasites and vampires. 
 
 ft has giveu us <;onipetition with all its baneful conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Not Emulation^ Avhicli no Society can nfFord to do without, 
 the loss of which would check all advance and deaden ail en- 
 erg}'. 
 
 ijut Cannibalism, that poisonous tooth the extraction ol 
 which would immonsely relieve sociot.v. 
 
 It has put into the hands of our Plutocrats a deadlier club 
 than competition for them to use whenever it serves their pur- 
 pose : Combination amon*^ themselves. 
 
 It has destroyed all the patriarchal, idyllic relations which 
 formerlly existed among men and left only the one 
 relation: Cash-payment. It has drowned the chivalrous 
 enthusiasm, the pious idealism which existed in previous 
 ages in a chilly shower of realistic egotism. It has put ex- 
 change-value in place of personal hum m dignity and license 
 in place ot freedom. It has made the physician, the juiist, the 
 poet, the scientist, retain^n-s of the Plutocracy. It has made 
 marriage a commercial relation and prostitution one of the es- 
 tablished institutions of ISociety. 
 
 But let us be fair. 
 
 So far we have discussed only the evil workings of '' private 
 enterprise." We heartily admit that, on the other hand, it has 
 performed wonders. It h-is built monuments greater than the 
 pyramids. Its Universal Exposition? have moved greater 
 masses of men tnan the Crusades ever did. It has done man- 
 kind an immense service in proving by hard facts, that wholC' 
 sale manufacture is the most sensible form of Labor. 
 
 But we contend that it now has done all the good it can, 
 that the evils which ?ioio llow from '•private enterprise" far 
 outweigh the benefits it confers. 
 
 Tliat is why we condemn it. We condemn it just as we con- 
 demn an old. decaying building, however useful it may have 
 been in its time; or as Nature condemns the cocoon of a 
 chrysalis, when a butterfly is ready to be born. 
 
 But we know full well that "private enterprise" will for some 
 time yet go on working mischief. We know it must become 
 
54 SOCIAL ANARCHY. 
 
 a good deal worse than it is, before it can become better. 
 
 But we also know that in the falhiess of time the Logic of 
 Events will, imperatively, demand a change from this Social 
 Anarchy to true Social Order, 
 
CHAPTER m. 
 
 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 "Real history is a history of tendencies, not of events."— 
 Buckle. 
 
 "Nothing would lead the mass of men to embrace Socialism 
 sooner than the conviction, tliat this enormous accumnhition 
 of Capital in a few hands was to be. not only an evil in fact if 
 not prevented, but a necessary evil beyond prevention. 
 
 "If such a tendency should manifest itself, it would run 
 through all forms of property. A Stewart or a Claflin would 
 root out small trades-people. Holders of small fiirnis would 
 sink into tenants. The buildings of a city would belong to a 
 few owners. Small manulacturers would have to take pay 
 from mammoths of their own khid or be ruined. * * * * 
 If this went to an extreme in a free country, the 'expropriated' 
 could not endure it. They would go to some other country, 
 and leave the proprietors alone in the land, or they would 
 drive them away. A revolution, slow or rapid, would cer- 
 tainly bring about a new order of things." — "C'omwm/asm and 
 Socialism^''' by Dr. Th. D. Woolsey. 
 
 That Capital— not "Wealth,'' not "Property" but Capital— 
 *n private hands involves the dependence of the masses; that 
 wwr Established Older is nothing but Established Anarchy 
 
56 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 are the conclusions we have arrived at. Will such a state 
 of things last forever? 
 
 Here we meet with one of the greatest obstacles with which 
 Socialists have to contend : the notion that whatever is, is the 
 innnutableorder of natuVe. Because the wage-system and the 
 '''' Let-alone " policy now prevail and have prevailed as far back 
 as any one can remember, people, even well-informed people, 
 fancy that this policy and that system constitute the necessa- 
 ry conditions for civilized societ}^ Socialists hold that this 
 is a fundamental error. They say, with all advanced scientists, 
 that what is has grown out of something else that was, and 
 that the present is the parent of the future. The history of 
 our race is a series of preparations. 
 
 In the ancient states where the civilization of our race com- 
 menced there was no wage-system ; there was Slavery. The 
 master was lord of the persons of his slaves, lord of the soil 
 and owner of the instruments of labor. We who have leached 
 a higher stage of development look very properly back with 
 horror on this ancient Slavery; and yot we should not forget 
 that we are indebted to this same Slaverj- for our civiiizaLion. 
 
 Progress takes place, only, when either some individuals 
 control other individuals, or when they voluntarily cooperate 
 together. But voluntary cooperation is a hard lesson for men 
 to learn ; and, therefore, progress has to commence with com- 
 pulsory cooperation ; with control of everything, — with Slav- 
 ery. 
 
 Look at our Indian tribes. They work, in their way, as well 
 as civilized people do. Yet they are strangers to progress. 
 Why? Because they never accumulated any wealth. And 
 they accumulated no wealth, because they worked as isolated 
 individuals; because they never have known any division of 
 labor. Now Slavery was to our race, the first division of labor ; it 
 was the first form of cooperation; for it is too often over- 
 looked, that division of labor is at the same time cooperation in 
 labor. The ruling princii)le during Slavery was, of course, 
 Despotism, the irresponsible will of the lord. 
 
 Feudalism, and Serfdom constitute the next great period in 
 the history of our race, coming in contemporaneously with 
 
THE CULMINATION. 57 
 
 the ascendancy of Christianity and the dominion of the nortli- 
 crn barbarians. Under it the lords of the soil were the dom- 
 ijiant class ; but tlie persons of the workers were free, thougli 
 they were attached to the soil wliere they were boi'n. This 
 change conferred an immense gain on the working multitude. 
 They were now invested with the most elementary ri>iht of all : 
 tliat of creating a family for themselves. And their belong- 
 ing to the soil was far from being altogether an evil, since h 
 conferred on them the right to claim support from the soil. 
 
 The ruling principle during that period was Custom^ which 
 proved itself a most efficient protector of the workers. It hxed, 
 strictly, and in many countries with the utmost particularity 
 ill details, the amount of work due to their lord for the use of 
 the soil, and all other rights and duties of every class and in- 
 dividual. '• Freedom '' during the middle ages meant the en- 
 joyment of those lights which Custom thus gave. It may 
 well be a question, whether the workers of that long era were 
 not a happier class than our wage-workers. 
 
 During those two stages of development '• Capital" was un- 
 known and unheard of. There was Wealth, there were I^eve- 
 uues. plenty of means of enjoyment. The great folks lived 
 in splendor, certainly; but they did not, and could not cap- 
 italize their possessions. 
 
 Remember that best of economic definitions of Capital, which 
 we adopted : " That part of wealth, employed productively, 
 with a view to profit, by sale of the produce." During Slav- 
 ery and Serfdom Wealth was not employed productively with 
 a vieAV to profit, by sale of the produce, but with a view to 
 immediate, personal enjoyment. The lords could not make 
 their possessions grow by '' profit," by "fleecings," could not 
 invest them. They could not levy tribute on anybody but their 
 own slaves, their own serfs. 
 
 But the progress of mankind demanded that another step 
 should be taken. The iron bands of Custom had to be sundered 
 and that is done by an assertion of the independence of the 
 individual in the form of Unrestricted Private Enterprise ; which 
 fructifies the germ of Capital, already found in the previous 
 accumulations of wealth. Private Enterprise commences, 
 
58 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 in the closing years of the Middle Ages, by suddenly advanc- 
 ing commerce to an unprecedented degree and developing tlie 
 Commerce of the World. It gives rise to the discoveries and 
 inventions \vhi(!ii now crowd upon each other ; foremost among 
 which are the discovery of America, the invention of the print- 
 ing press and the steam engine. These in their t.urn nourish 
 Capital. It becomes an infant, grows up to youth and man- 
 liood, bursts completely the fetters of the Middle Ages by the 
 ever memorable French Revolution, and has developed in our 
 days into a giant by division of labor being carried to an ex- 
 tent, not dreamt of before; or — what is the same thing — by 
 a greater cooperation in production than was known before. 
 
 'JMuis v>'e have arrived at th'^ thu'd stage in the development 
 of our race: tiiis era of (.'apital and Individualism. Wealth 
 during all three periods governed the world, controlled the 
 masses, but never before in the form of Capital. Our Plutoc- 
 rac3% our industrial, commercial and moneyed aristocracy, 
 whom the French called "• the Third Estate; " those who by 
 the control of the instiuments of labor have acquired the more 
 advantageous position, are now our masters, the dominant 
 power, who by laws and usages, enacted by themselves, have 
 made this advantageous position of theirs a permanent one. 
 'J'he woikers have hardly occasion to rejoice at the change. 
 They ai-e free to own land, but have not the means to buy it. 
 They have pei'sonnl liberty, yes. They are no longer bound 
 to the soil ; they have got the barren legal right to go where 
 they please. lint they have, at the same time, lost the right 
 to claim support Ii'om the soil. Their liberty is one that ben- 
 efits their mastei's, rathei* than themselves. The power of 
 discharge and the advantage of having everywheie an army 
 of proletarians to hire from, is vital to the growth of Capital. 
 The workers have lost the power they as serfs possessed to 
 labor to advantage for themselves, for in all branches of in- 
 dustry wholesale production has supplanted domestic indus- 
 try. They have <M)oj)eration in production with a vengeance 
 — think of Plugsou and his spinners. The division and enjoy- 
 ment of the products oii the other hand, is entirely onesided. 
 
 Tlie I'lutocracy, the lleecing class and their retainers, is in 
 
THE CULMINATION. 59 
 
 this third stage of our civilization the really governing power 
 all over the civilized world. But while it is checked, to some 
 extent, in the European countries by the i-enmants of Feudal- 
 ism : the nobilit^'-and clergy, it iu our countrj' Is absolute, sim- 
 pij'" because tliis is a new country. Here its power is uncjuos- 
 tioned and unrestrained. It is the easiest thing in the world 
 for it to nndntain its dominion here; for all it has to do is to 
 command tiie government : "leave us alone!" Indeed our 
 governments may be said to be merely committees of our Tlu- 
 tocrats, charged with watcliing over their commoj' interests. 
 
 Now observe, that Socialists hold that each of these three 
 periods, though together forming a long and weary road, was 
 yet a necessary link in the chain of progress, was a prepara- 
 tory step to each succeeding stage. We cannot accomplish 
 the progress of our race by lea])s but must do it by growths. 
 We cannot dispense with anv of these stages. V^e could not 
 dispense with the ])resent reign of Individualism and Capital. 
 If a magic wand could restore the mode of production in 
 vogue two liundred years ago. it would require another two 
 centuries to mature the conditions for that New Order which 
 lies in the womb of time. And we also hold, that history 
 is radically incomprehensible without the conception, that the 
 social state of each epoch was just as perfect as the corres- 
 IDonding development of our race permitted. The evils, there- 
 fore, of the *• let alone" policy which we described in the pre- 
 ceeding chapter are to be considered the legitimate workings 
 of a principle to which humanity iu times to come will find it- 
 self greatly indebted. 
 
 This conception ought to guard us against feeling any ill- 
 will towards the individual members of our Plutocracy. 
 Passions directed against the system are most i^roper; for it 
 is only passion that can nerve us sufficiently to overthrow the 
 system. But our capitalists are as much the creatures of circ- 
 umstances as our paupers are. Neither should we forget, 
 that there have here and there been employers and capitalists 
 wlio wo lid willingly have sacrificed their all to right socKjty. 
 Itobert Owen was the more noble a man for being rich. 
 
60 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 Having noti (1 the principles and factors which thus far have 
 
 shaped the destinies of our race, and having seen how the 
 
 ' Let-alone" policy has worked, and how it is working at this 
 
 verj'' daj^, the next inquirj^ niitin-ally is: AVhat will be the 
 
 outcome? How will tliis policy work in the future? 
 
 Dr. Theodore D. Woolsey. is a very cautious man, as bone- 
 fits his profession and his position as a representative of our 
 luxurious classes. He admits in his '' Communism and Social- 
 ism," that '•'tliere is some reason to apprehend, that the 'free 
 use' ot private property must end in making a few capitalists 
 of enormous wealth, and a vast population of laborers de- 
 pendent on them," — if not prevented. This conclusion is not 
 due to any flights of fancy or unseemly rashness on the gen- 
 tleman's pai't, for lie goes on to say what we have quoted at 
 the head of this chapter. If such a tendency " should "man- 
 ifest itself, then he thinks, a Stewart '' would " root out small- 
 er trades-people ; small producers '• would " be ruined by mam- 
 moths of their own kind and the land and houses of a city 
 " would " be more and more monopolized. We should say, that 
 Dr. Woolsey is, if anything, over-cautious. Most people 
 would be ready to say outright, that those things are daily 
 taking place; and that, thus, the tendency of the ''fiee use 
 of private property" is manifest. Private '*• Enterprise " will, 
 evidently, work in the future, as it has done in the past— ay ! 
 it will gather greater and greater momentum — if not pre- 
 vented. 
 
 Tliat is to say : Concentration will be the ord^r of the day 
 along the whole line of production, transportation and ex- 
 change. The small farm will give way to the large one; the 
 small producer to the wholesale-producer. The wholesale 
 trade will be more and more concentrated. All retail trade ot 
 any consequence in our larger cities will be gathered togeth- 
 er in huge bazaars, after the Wanamaker pattern in Philadel- 
 phia; they will soon attract to themselves the customers of 
 the countr5'-stores Just as the hardware factories ah'oady now 
 do much of the work, formerly done by prosperous cross-roads 
 blacksmiths. The contract system of erecting buildings will 
 soon constitute, and constitutes now to a great extent, all en- 
 
THE CULMINATION. 61 
 
 gaged ill the building-trades a movable, disposable force, to be 
 hired now ])j this contractor and now hy tiuit. A few years 
 hence the entire production and sale of the anthracite coal of 
 Pensisylvania — that is, of the whole country — will be in the 
 hands of four companies: the Heading; the Lehigh Valley; 
 the l>)elaware. Lackawanna and Western and the Delaware and 
 Hudson. In other words four persons will practically decide, 
 liow much the producers shall be paid and how much the con- 
 sumers shall be bled. Probably it will not last long before 
 the whole output will be controlled by one corporation. 
 The sngar-retining business will in a few years be in the hands 
 of a couple of houses. We shall not have to wait long, before 
 the whole railroad-system of the country is in the hands of, 
 say, four companies. The Standard Oil Com^Dauy already con- 
 trols the oil business, and a few magnates now control in one 
 corporation the whole telegraphic S3^stem of our country, so 
 there the concentration is almost comi)lete. 
 
 Tlie last census report demonstrates conclusively that this 
 concentration of manufactu'^ing industries commenced in good 
 earnest during the last decade; while, as we already have seen, 
 the number of workers and values created considei-ably in- 
 creased, the number of establishments was in 1880 almost ex- 
 actly what it was in 1870. 
 
 Such complete centralization of all activities of Society will, 
 evidently, render the working-classes more dependent on their 
 masters ; will make it more and more impossible for the work- 
 ingnien to control their own conditions. They will have in- 
 dividually, less and less, if any, control as to what shall be 
 their hours of labor and what their pay. That is clearly the 
 tendency of the working of '' unrestricted private enterprise" 
 — if not pi evented. 
 
 It will pmhaps be objected, that our own figures do not sup- 
 port such an inference. The wages of labor it will be said, 
 rose steadily from 1850 to 1880; to wit: $218, .$310 and $346. 
 
 Tbis objection would be a good instance of the bad uses to 
 which the census-figures could be put. Tbis rise in uominal 
 wages can be accounted for on the hypotliesis of Kicardo. 
 Wliile laying it down that wages are determined by the cost 
 
62 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 of living, he took occasion to observe that wages would prob- 
 ably steadily rise, because tlie prices of provisions bad a tend- 
 ency continually to rise. It is impossible to say whether there 
 has been a real rise in wages before we know bow manj'- of 
 the necessaries and decencies of life a given sum would buy 
 in the respective years. 
 
 But note that ourtigures in the 1st chapter for the year 1870 
 were all reduced to a gold basis, as the value for the three oth- 
 er census-3'ears were gold-values. The workman, then, who 
 in 1870 received the average yearly wage of $310 in fact got 
 $388 in currency. Now it provisions and many other com- 
 modities were not dearer in 1870 than in 1880 — as we think is 
 the fact — then, « omparing these two fairly prosperous years 
 with each other, there has been an absolute fall in wages. 
 
 Again, we do not suppose that this comx:>lete dependence of 
 the working-class on the employing class will take place be- 
 fore the concentration of the social activities is complete. 
 When that time arrives, tlie workingmen will have the screws 
 applied to them quickly enough, and they will lind out the 
 fact by themselves. 
 
 That consummate advocate and retainer of our fleecers — 
 we again use this word simply as a term of description, to em- 
 phasize a fact, — Wm. M. Evarts. saw the point clearly when 
 serving them in the office of national .Secretary of State, and 
 coolly said in an official document : 
 
 "The lirst great truth to be learned by manufacturers (^sic) 
 and workingmen is that the days of high wages are gone. In 
 the near future the workingmen of New York cannot expect 
 twice or three times the wages of his fellow-worker in Eu- 
 rope, nor can the coal-miner of Pennsylvania expect twice the 
 wages of the Northumberland miner." 
 
 Thus there is not a shadow of doubt that the enormous ac- 
 cumulation of wealth in the hands of a few capitalists, and a 
 vast population of laborers dependent on them will be *•' an evil 
 in fact — if not prevented." But can it be prevented? 
 
 One of the proposed '' remedies " is the extention of our 
 foreign markets. 
 
THE CULMINATION. 63 
 
 This is a "remedy" which our fleecers, our plutocrats, 
 guarantee as aa infallible curefor Dr. Woolsey's '■' evil." in 
 other words for the discontent of the working-classes. It must 
 be admitted that they seek for that •• remedy '• with a remark- 
 able zeal and pertinacity ; and not alone our plutocrats, but 
 the plutocrats of all capitalist countries as well. To get hold 
 of the panacea their governments, i, e. their governing com- 
 mittees, write bushels of diplomatic notes and protests (re- 
 member the American protests against prohibiting the impor- 
 tation of American pork into Germany and France,) annex 
 or conquer half-civilized countries, shake up by the roar of 
 cannon the sleeping Chinese, encourage tlie building of rail- 
 ways in Mexico and incursions Into the heart of Africa; in 
 brief, penetrate into and ransack with feverish and frantic en- 
 ergy every nook and corner of the globe, whore human beings 
 are found that can be coaxed or driven to — trade. 
 
 Our own Evarts spent much of his time and energy as Sec- 
 retary of State in hunting after these foreign markets. What- 
 ever motive our plutocrats may pretend in pursuing their ob- 
 ject — and we shall soon see that they have an excellent motive 
 on their own account — Mr. Evarts cannot very well pretend 
 solicitude for the working-classes after the "• advice " he gave 
 them — and our manufacturers — which we just now quoted. It 
 was also Mr. Evarts w^ho, to fortify his advice, caused our 
 consuls in other countries to prepare reports for the State De- 
 partment about the wages paid to foreign workers, which 
 were mis-leading, and afterwards were published to show our 
 workingmtju that they were altogether too well off. 
 
 But no matter what the motive was and is, this cry : For, 
 eign Markets, is very characteristic, indeed, of the '' states- 
 manship" of these plutocrats who rule us— of these ''Rulers 
 w ho are no r ilers," in Carlyle's language. It, like all their 
 other public measures, proves them the vcri-^st quacks, in thia 
 that it shows that they are satisfied \vith some temporary a^I- 
 vantages, without considering the ulterior consequences. For 
 to anybody wdio takes into account the immediate future these 
 efforts to secure foreign markets must on a little reflection 
 appear, as a writer in the Atlantic Monthly for Oct. 1S79 ealla 
 
(54 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 them, " the madOest of all follies." 
 
 Because, supposing Ave could secure them, we could not pos- 
 sibly hold them. The nations whose custom we are soliciting, 
 even China, Japan and Ilindostan, are even now adopting all 
 onr inventions and improvements, and are fast learning to 
 manufacture for themselves. 
 
 Because to secure them, we have to manufacture cheaper 
 than any other nation ; that is, we have to lower tlie wages and 
 lengthen the working day of oar operatives. Well, that, of 
 course, does not disconcert Mr. Evarts. But now comes the 
 point. England and all other compeLing nations will, on the 
 same i)rinciple, try to oust us by manufacturing still cheaper. 
 It is, tluis, only by co?ia'«Ma???/ lowering the reraumeration of 
 our worko'S, even below the starvation wages of Europe, that 
 we could possibly hold on to our '' supremacy," even tempor- 
 arily. And then how contemptible a supremacy! Carlyle's 
 words should be a fitting rebuke : '• Sad, indeed, that our na- 
 tional existence depends on our selling manufactured cotton 
 a farthing cheaper than any other i^eople." 
 
 Because, lastlj^, it is anyway a losing business. As the 
 wages of our operatives decrease, their power of consumption 
 decreases. Foreign markets can. therefore, only be obtained 
 at the cost of losing our home-trade. The writer, mentioned 
 above, computes, that thus far, we have lost ten dollars in do- 
 ,mestic trade to every dollar gained in foreign trade. 
 
 P'oreign markets, thus, truly mean: grasping at a shadow, 
 even to our plutocrats. And that it is worthless as a '' reme- 
 dy " against Woolsey's *' evil " is ipso facto apparent. 
 
 A second *• remedy" is the voluntary individual coopera- 
 tion, advocated by the English economist, Prof. Cairnes, and 
 which has become almost a hobby of so many reformers. 
 
 Trof. Cairnes is a man we must respect. He has got a clear 
 conception of the condition of the laboring classes: 
 
 " The conclusion to which I am brought is this, that, un- 
 equal as is the distribution of wealth alieady, the tendency of 
 ijidustrial progress — on the supposition, that the present sep- 
 aration between individual classes is maintained — is towards 
 
THE CULMINATION. 65 
 
 an inequality greater stilL 
 And unlike Evarts he is anxious to raise them: 
 *-Tlie first and indispensable step toward any serious amend- 
 ment of the laborer's lot is that he should be, in one way or 
 anotlier. lifted out of the groove, in which he at present works, 
 and be placed in a i:)osiiion compatible with his becoming a 
 gharer in equal proportion with others in the general advan- 
 tages, arising from industrial progress. * * * 
 '' The laborer shall cease to be a mere laborer." 
 But the way he indicates, '• that the workmen contribute of 
 their savings towards a common fund which they employ as 
 capital and cooperate in turning to profit," is, decidedly, not 
 the way to solve the problem. 
 
 In the first place it should be apparent to a man like Prof. 
 Cairnes, that it is like mocking the laboring classes to suggest 
 to them, to start productive enterprises, in competition wjth 
 capitalists. Fancy them contemplating the millions needed 
 to build factories, to buy machinery and lay in raw materials, 
 and then feeling in their own pockets and finding them empty ! 
 How can workme:i save anything, when their wages vibrate 
 around the point of necessaries of life? And suppose, that they 
 by adding together their pennies do start some factory or other, 
 how can they, possi'jly, succeed in enterprises that require 
 more and more capital; where Capitalists with experience 
 fail? 
 
 But admit that such associations here and there have suc- 
 ceeded and that others therefore likewise might succeed, it 
 yet leaves the kernel of the Labor-question untouched. These 
 successful associations are brilliant examples of workingmen 
 raising themselves out of their class, not raising their clais. 
 They are not truly cooperative but virtually joint-stock com- 
 panies. They compete among themselves just as ordinary 
 concerns do. They (the Eochdale Pioneers/, i., who of late 
 are an industrial as well as mercantile association) hire and 
 fleece laborers after the approved fashion of the age, and ex- 
 perience teaches that they are indeed the hardest tas^vUiasters. 
 The interest of the members of these associations becomes 
 identified with Capital, and if ever circumstances should make 
 
66 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 it easior for the smarter laborers to start sii3li companies suc- 
 cessfully, that fact would create a Ldbor-caste. In a general 
 dispute between Labor and Capital these associations, instead 
 of bein^^ a vanguard of Lnbor. will go over to the side of Cap- 
 ital. The sons of Rochdnle Pioneers, living in luxury and im- 
 itating th<^ airs and fashions of the wealthy of all tiniess, point 
 Ihe moral. Where is, then, the gain to the laboring classes to 
 come in? No, instead of advising Avorkingmen to save, an:l 
 to invest their savings in such risky enterprises, it would ])e 
 much better to advise them to put their savings into their own 
 flesh and bone, where they of light belong on account of 
 their more efficient labor. 
 
 Voluntary Cooperation in enterprises of consumption h quite 
 another thing. Such have in many instances succeeded. They 
 can succeed, because they require no very laige amount of 
 Capital. And Socialists very often advise workingmen. where- 
 ever and whenever they can. to start cooperative stores and 
 thus get better goods and save the profits,, otherwise going to 
 the middlemen. It is in other words, a very prudent thing to 
 do for the inclivichial. 
 
 But liow will it help the body of workingmen? Evidently, 
 it could only do so, when the whole body, or at least a large 
 majority of them became the beneficiaries of such coopera- 
 tion. It is curious, that an economist like Prof. Cairnes does 
 not foresee the necessary consequences. 
 
 In such case, of course, the average wages requisite for a 
 given standard of living and comfort would become less and 
 consequently — for Prof. Cairnes admits the law of wages of 
 Ricardo and the Socialists — would fall to the new level. The 
 workmen thus would be no better off than befoi-e. Next, 
 what would become of the small traders and shop-keepc s, 
 thus displaced? They, naturally, would be ruined. They eith- 
 er would have to become a burden on the comnumity, or fall 
 into the ranks of the wage-workers, and thus contribute to 
 lowering the rate of v/ages still more by their frantic com|ie- 
 tition. The writer ot this once heard a small trader in a wej^l- 
 ern town bitterly upbraiding the grangtns, who had starteJ 
 one of their cooperative stores at his place, because of theii 
 
THE CULMINATION. 67 
 
 meanness. They ought to *' live and let live." Was he so 
 very unreasonable? 
 
 8uch voluntary Cooperation may be very excellent for the 
 individual, just as long as it is a sporadic phenomenon — no 
 longer. 
 
 A third " remedy," firmly relied upon by another class of 
 Labor-reformers, to check the increasing power of the cap- 
 italist-and employing class is the formation and strength- 
 ening of Trades-unions and the legal enactment of a normal 
 working-day; two objects which may be said always to go 
 hand in hand. 
 
 We and all Socialists, indeed, have nothing but commenda- 
 tion for and active sympathy with every effort that is made to 
 bind all the workers of the various crafts together, and to gathei* 
 these crafts again into greater unions. These Tiades-unions 
 and Trades-assemblies are powerful instruments for educating 
 their members for the coming Social Order, wiiether they are 
 aware of it or not; in another connexion we shall have more 
 to say on that point. 'J'hey impress vividly on their mem- 
 bers the fact, that their inierests are mutual, and that their 
 employers, far from being identified witli them, are diametri- 
 cally opposed to them in interests. They open the eyes of 
 their members to the fact, that their masters are not wage- 
 givers but take wages from them; that their mnsters do not 
 suport them but that they support their masters. 
 
 Again, while Ave do not recommend strikes — what the Trades- 
 unions, indeed, are also far from doing — we accept them as 
 necessary evils. We claim that as a matter of fact (what Wv? 
 have alreadj^ stated) there is an existing w^arfare between 
 capitalists and laborers, and that strikes are simply the skirm- 
 ishes in that warfare. Strikes are the efforts of wares to 
 act like men. 
 
 We also hold as a matter of course, that eight hours of hard 
 daily work, is asufficie jt, more than a sufficient, task for a 
 mere living. 
 
 But we are at the same time convinced 'that Trades-unions 
 and all these efforts of theirs are absolutely impotent to coun- 
 
 // 
 
68 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 tc'iact the workings of •" unrestricted private enterprise." 
 
 Tlie Trades-unions of England have i:ideedsueeeeded in rais- 
 ing the wages in various trades and shortening tlie daily toil — 
 yes. thry and they only, liavc succeeded in procuring for the 
 English working-classes the great boon of a nine-hours 
 working day, — hut only because the masters liave not combined 
 sufficientl}'. Strikes must necessarll}'" fail, if due resistance 
 be made, because the immedinte effect of them is to deprive 
 the worker of his means of subsistence, and the capitalist of 
 his profit sini[)iy. "When '' wares '■ try to act like men, they 
 uaturail^?" fail, for wares are only things. 
 
 And suppose the Trades-union movement of England to ac- 
 complish its ultimate object: that of uniting all the workers 
 of all the trades of Great Britain into one compact, compre- 
 hensive body, the result will evidently be, that the employers 
 and capitalists will be compelled to follow suit; that is, such 
 a union of workingmen will call into existence a Power, that 
 can crush them at the first trial of strength. 
 
 The writer of this is, furthermore, decidedly of the opinion 
 that the efforts to establish in our countiy by law a normal 
 working day of eight hours will prove equally futile. 
 
 We shall not enlarge upon the point, that one state of the 
 Union cannot afford to establish it. except all states do so; 
 that therefore national legislation is the only object worth 
 striving for. But what sort of legislation? Our Congress and 
 some local legislatures have i)assed laws which lix eight hours 
 as a working day for government employees and which pro- 
 vide, or at least imply, that the same wages shall be paid for 
 the eight as formerly for the ten hours. xVll friends of an 
 eight-hour law agree as to the proi)riety and expediency of 
 these statutes, and chiim. that if honestly enforced, they will 
 by the example they set lead — nay, compel— prlvateemploy- 
 ers to follow suit. 
 
 Have they done that so far? Some of the noolest and most 
 unselfish of martyrs witness by their gray hairs or the broken 
 heiirts with which they have gone to their graves, that these 
 st.'ituLes have had no such effect, that they have had no effect 
 ai all ; that they have, indeed, been nothing but dead Ictterg. 
 
THE CULMINATION. C9 
 
 Ah, but if they h;id been enforced, it would have been differ- 
 ent, it hi said. May it not bo that there is one underlying rea- 
 son, why they have not been enforced and why they could 
 not have affected other laborers if. perchance, they had been 
 enforced? The point is, that the less does not include the 
 greater. Under the Established Order our national Govern- 
 ment and all state govei'nments are on exactly the same foot- 
 ing as private parties and the employment they give is but :\ 
 small part of all employments. It is therefore the rate of wages 
 paid in private employments and the iiours of labor obtaining 
 thei-e wliieh. as long as this system lasts, will regulate public 
 employments, and not reversely. To hope that it will be oth- 
 erwise is Utopian. 
 
 There are more radical eight-hour men, among them many So- 
 cialists, who agitate for an enactment to the effect, that all pri- 
 vate employers who work tlieir men more than eight hours a 
 day (^and presumably, that all wage-workers who work more 
 than that number of hours) shall be punished in a certain way. 
 They do not care whether anything is provided about wages, 
 arguing that, if eight hours become a normal work-day. wages 
 will soon rise to their former level, all other things being equal, 
 — in wliicli we agree with them. But it seems to be entirely 
 overlooked in all di«!Cussions on such an enactment of a na- 
 tional chai'acter, that it requires a constitutional amendment. 
 We for our part believe that we might just as soon expect to 
 have this nation changed into a So'^ialist Commonwealth by a 
 constitutional amendment, passed in the constitutional waj', 
 as such a com^wZsor?/ eight-hour la vv. But we need say nothing 
 further here, for we are discussing the workings of unrestricU 
 ed private enterprise, of the *'/ree use " of private property. 
 Only one word more. It may be objected that we admitted 
 that the Trades-Unions of England did obtaia a nine-hour 
 work-day in England; and that in many of our states a ten- 
 hour law prevails and is obeyed. 'J'here is perhaps a misap- 
 prehension here. There is neither here nor in England any Ic^ 
 gal normal working-day for men. Whatever legal restriction 
 exists applies to women and children exclusively, and as to 
 
 them even only, when they are working m factories. The 
 
70 THE CULMINATION. 
 
 English Trades-Unions did succeed, for the time being, in wrest- 
 ing from their employers their consent to a nine-hour work- 
 day, simply because at the time the market-demand exceeded 
 the suj)ply. 
 
 A fourth "I'emedy," advocated by the Greenback-party — of 
 whose doctrines we shall have more to say in another place — 
 ift that the Government should advance to its citizens all the 
 capital they may be in need of, at a very low rate of interest, 
 say one per cent. This "remedy," which was also the hob- 
 by of Proudhon, we can dismiss with a very few words. Even 
 if it were not impossible, what it is as we shall afterwards see, 
 it would not help the masses in tlie least. The propoition be- 
 tween wages and lleecings in our "' cakes" remains the same, 
 whether interest is large or small. The reduction of interest 
 wculd simply increase the 6a?ance -of fleecings which go to 
 profit and rent. Such a measure, if practicable, would thus 
 only benefit the employing class, the sniall producer and mer- 
 chant, and, possibly, the landowners. 
 
 But then, the Greenback-party is a mlddle-class-part}^ that 
 is to say: a reactionary part}^ as l^rouuhon was a reactionist; 
 for the middle-class (what we in America call the •• middle- 
 class" and the English the " lower middle-class ") is doomed 
 to extinction. 
 
 Tims it truly seems. Dr. Woolsey! that "this enormous 
 accumulation of Capital in a few hands " is to be a '• necessary 
 ^vil, beyond prevention!" It, undoubtedly, will "run througli all 
 the forms of propertj'-." Our manufacturers, our mcreiiant 
 " prince*," our transporters, our money lenders, and. linallj', 
 our land owners will go on dwiijdling in numbers, as they 
 swell in size. The millionaires will gobble up the Cap- 
 ital of the whole middle-class, and the more their own pos- 
 sesssions grow, the wilder will be their chase after the 
 smaller game. Our working classes, on the other hand, u'ill 
 go on being gathered into larger centres. There is no '-if at 
 all about the matter and there is, absolutely, no patent med- 
 icine in the market that can prevent it. 
 
THE CULMINATION. 71 
 
 But is it philosophical to call that " an evi7," Dr. "Woolsey; 
 
 When a child is growing its teeth it is, we know, a season 
 of misery to it : yet we do not therefore call the process of 
 teething an " evil." What if the present and future workings 
 of '* capitalism,'' that is of the '' free use " of Capital were the 
 teething period of Society? We know, of course, that the 
 parallel is imperfect ; for there is this terrible difference, that 
 in the latter case the suffering of myriads of sentient beings 
 is involved, for which reason the agitation for shortening the 
 daily toil and all other eff'orts to alleviate the condition of the 
 working-classes are worthy of all our sympathy. 
 
 Just as the teething process runs its course according to the 
 physical laws of our organization, and must run its course, so 
 the centralization of all social activities goes on according to 
 laws indwelling in our social organism, and to stop it. if we 
 could, would be turning back th.) wheels of progress. This is 
 the consolation lelt to the self-sacrificing eight-hour agitators 
 for tlie failure of their efforts. For there is no doubt that, if 
 they could succeed, the wage-workers would be rendered al- 
 most satisfied with their lot as wage-slaves, be reconciled to 
 the wage-s?/s«em, just wiiat the partial success of the Trades- 
 Unions in England, unfortunately, seems to have done with 
 the British wage-workers. 
 
 AVhen the culmination is reached, then comes the dawn. 
 
 And what will be the culmination? 
 
 That the Established Order will be dying of exhaustion. 
 This conclusion lay indeed, potentially, in our exposition of 
 ''Value" in chapter I, wherefore we also there called it the 
 c7 'Mnother-idea" of Socialism. Since all real Values are the 
 results of Labor, and since Labor under our wage-system, our 
 profit-system, our fleecings-sy stem, only receives about one- 
 half thereof as its share, it follows that the producers cannot buy 
 back that which they create. 
 
 ^ow \YQ can see, that this wage-system concerns the 
 whole Nation, and not merely the wage-workers, as we 
 for argument's sake granted at the commencement of Chapter 
 U. For the more Capital is being accumulated in private 
 hands, the more impossible this wage-system renders it for th« 
 
72 THE CULMINATION, 
 
 producers to buy what they produce. The more necessary 
 it becomes for capitalists to dispose of their ever increasing 
 tleecings, the less tiie ability of the people to purchase them 
 will, relatively, become. The greater the supply" the smaller the 
 consumption. The more Capital, the more " overproduction." 
 
 This is a fatal contradiction. This '' Individualism " which 
 has created and nourished Capital and is making it bigger and 
 bigger, is at the same time digging the grave of Capital. 
 
 The logic of the upholders of the present Social Order, when 
 they fancy it will last forever, or hope, that it, like its prede- 
 cessors, will last for a thousand years, is sadly at fault. Slavery 
 and Serfdom were long-lived, because they rested on broad 
 endurable foundations, so that they had a chance to petrify ; 
 their nature, in other words, was stabilit'j . But our Social Or- 
 der cannot exist without repeated industrial revolutions : its 
 very nature is insecurity and movement. It can be fitly compared 
 to a spinning top which only is saved from toppling over by 
 being made to turn swiftly about on its apex. It is unrestrict- 
 ed Private Enterprise which imparts to our Social Order this 
 wild movement. But just as the top is sure to finally topple 
 over, so is this Social Order of oui s. 
 
 That is the '-Logic of Events." That events have logic 
 simply means, that *•* statesmen " and *• leaders" have none. 
 
 And we have no need of trusting to logic; we need only 
 trust our senses. Any one who has eyes to see can perceive 
 this Social Order tottering, not alone in our own country, but 
 in all industrial countries. Do we not htrar from everywhere 
 the cry of the fleecers : ''Foreign markets! ^y^i imist have 
 foreign markets !?" Did we not say that the fleecers had ex- 
 cellent reasons of their own for hunting for them? This cry 
 is the first frantic death-gasp of Capitalism, showing it is dying 
 of inanition. What better evidence need we? Socialists might 
 simply fold their arms and calmly await its dissolution. Thus 
 our plutocrats, who a hundred years ago untied the fetters 
 that bound all industrial and social relations in their unyield- 
 ing embrace, now iind themselves in the position of the ma- 
 gician who unloosed the elemental forces of Nature, and after- 
 wards, not being able to control them, was overwhelmed by 
 
THE CULMINATION. 73 
 
 them. 
 
 \ye are approaching tho culmination with giant strides, with 
 raih-oad speed, in fact. Every invention that renders produc- 
 tion Oil a smaller scale more unprotitahle, every bankruptcy, 
 every so-called " crisis " brings us nearer to the end. 
 
 Then will come the real '- crisis.'''' We do not say it will not 
 come before; but, if not before, it will surely come Avith the 
 culmination. 
 
 And then, what? 
 
 Well, Political Economy cannot tell us; it came in with the 
 present Social order, and it will go out with it ; its whole scope 
 is to bring the present social arrangements into a system. 
 
 Only Socialism can lift the veil of the future, for it only con- 
 templates this Social Order and the whole previous history of 
 our race with a philosophic eye. Therefore it can predict with 
 the same claim to certainty, with which the Signal Service Bu- 
 reau predicts to-morrow's weather. 
 
 There are two alternatives. Barbarism may be the outcome. 
 But we do uot believe it will. 
 
 Thoughtful men observe that there never before was diffusec 
 through society so large a sense of unhappiness. Our large 
 accessions and acquisitions of comfort have enhanced and ag- 
 gravated our ideas of poverty. Capitalists, for their own pur- 
 poses, have taught the masses a thousand needs, and at the | 
 same time rendered it impossible for them to satisfy these needs. / 
 Society is Irom top to bottom seized by discontent — next to 
 hope the gi eatest gift from the gods to man. 
 
 There is an old saga of a King and Queen to whom a fair 
 son was born. Twelve fairies came to the christening, each 
 with a gift. A noble presence, wisdom, strength, beauty- 
 all were poured upon him until it seemed he must excel all 
 moi tal men. Then came the twelfth fairy with the gift of dis- 
 content, but the angry father turned away the lairy and her 
 gift. And the lad grew apace, a wonder of perfect powers; 
 but, content in their possession, he cared to use them for neith- 
 er good nor ill; there was no eagerness in him ; good-natured 
 and quiet, he let life use him as it would. And at last the King 
 
74 THE CUOIINATION. 
 
 knew that the rejected hadbeen thecrowninoj gift. 
 
 Again, the mas ses are becoming more and more intelligent, 
 too intelligent to submit to a new slavery, or a new serfdom. 
 The working-masses now feel themselves human beings and 
 have become conscious of their power; their concentration in 
 large centres of industry has given them that consciousness, 
 which, perhaps, will make them too impatient to await the ti- 
 iial crash. 
 
 And then — we Socialists have now been horn into the worlds a 
 guarantee, that Society will go forward, not backwards. 
 
 The other alternative is Dr. Woolsey's : *•• that a revolution^ 
 slow or i-api(l, loill certainly bring about a new order of things^ 
 There we agree with him. 
 
 Whatever is, is noaiieinuuutable order of nature. It is very 
 n:;tural that our well-to-do classes should believe that arrange- 
 ments wliich suit t'lem have been settled by some law of the 
 Medes and Persians ! nevertheless when these arrangements 
 h:;ve done their work they are destined to disappear. But 
 whatever is, is rational. It exists, because, and so long as it ful- 
 fills some U'^eful office. 
 
 Private ^Enterprise has done civilization excellent service, but 
 after liaving run this Social "' Order" into the ground it will 
 be supplanted by a new principle: Social Cooperation^ up to 
 which the whole Martyrdom of Man during his whole previ- 
 ous history h^s been training ns. " Individualism.'' a rhythmi- 
 cal swing of the human mind, will then commence its back- 
 ward movement and find its compensation in due time. 
 
 The divorce between Ciipital and Labor will cease. Cap- 
 ital will no longer bo the master of Labor but, as true Nati<»n- 
 al \Vealt!i, the invaluable hand-maid of Labor. 
 
 The steward of that National Wealth will be the State; it 
 liavirg, as we shall now see, a title to all Capital, ^jaju* 
 mount to that of either capitalists or laborers. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 '-It is only by beinn^ citizen of a well-ordered State tliat, the 
 indiviilnal has ^ot iri(!;hts."—Ilpf/pl. 
 
 '• Xot Stato-netion i:i itself, but State-action exorcised bv a 
 hostile class it is that ought to be (}e])recate6.''''-~MattJiew Arnold. 
 
 ''Look to the State I From that you can expect the hiirhest 
 experience and skill, real and ethclent control, a national aim 
 and spirit." — Frederic Harrison. 
 
 We have concluded the Socialist critique of the present or- 
 der of things. In a nutshell it is this : The Fleecings increase 
 ill our country and in all industrial countries at a very great 
 rate. In order that Capital (tlie sum of these Fleecings) may 
 h'^. dimply maintained, (mark that!) it mu?t be constantly em- 
 ployed in i)roduction and a market must be found for the prod- 
 ucts which it enables Labor to create. Foreign markets will 
 soon dry up ; our autocrats, therefore, will be confined to their 
 respective home-markets. But the masses at home are more 
 and more becoming w'age-workers from the opev-ition of' In- 
 dividualism; " wage-workers receive in w^ages only about half 
 of what they produce; the masses, consequentlj', are becom- 
 ing more and more unable to buy back the Values they create. 
 Thus for lack of consumption, Capital will be more and more 
 
76 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 threatened with depreciation. The more Capital, the more 
 -'overproduction." TheWage-System and Private '-Enter- 
 prise" will^ indeed, involve capitalists and laborers in one 
 common ruin. 
 
 This is tho foundation for what may be called : " construct- 
 ive" Socialism. We are not under the delusion, that jSTations 
 can ha persuaded by the grandeur, excellence and equity of our 
 system. The Future is ours, because the present system will 
 soon be unbearable ; because, as we said, we might fold our arms 
 and calmly wait to see the Established Ordar fall to pieces by 
 its own weight. Our conception of Value, therefore, truly com- 
 prises the u-liole of Socialism. 
 
 \\^hen the culmination has been reached, the reins will drop 
 from the impotont hands of our autocrats and will be taken 
 up by an impersonal Power, coeval with human nature : The 
 State. 
 
 It is a pity that we must commence by guarding ourselves 
 against the corrupt American use of the term "• State; " but, 
 writing mainly for our American countrymen, we cannot help 
 ourselves. 
 
 The '"State" of Pennsylvania and the other thirty seven 
 " States" are not, and never were. States. Ey State we mean 
 with Webster '-a whole people, united in one body politic." 
 That is the meaning of State in all languages, English included 
 — except the American language. Now, not one of our Amer- 
 ican •' states " was ever for one moment a " whole people." 
 They either were subjects to the crown of England, or parts 
 of the Confederation, or of the Union. The Union then is a 
 State^]\is,t as France and Spain are States, and it is cmphati- 
 callj' so since the American people commenced to call them- 
 selves a Nation with a big N. This, however, by no means 
 excludes local centres of authority, what we are wont to call 
 '• local self-government." 
 
 " The State " is a stumbling block to many very worthy per- 
 sons. They apprehend — a fear very honorable in them — that 
 State-suprt'macy would be prejudicial to Freedom Wo hope 
 to make it apparent, that State-action and individual Freedom, 
 fur from being antagonistic, are really complementary of each 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 77 
 
 ether. 
 
 The reason why '^ the State " is no\v-a-days such a bugbear 
 to so many, is tliat this word has quite another meaning; in tlie 
 uioutli of an individualist, wherever j-ou find him, than when 
 used by a Socialist. Indeed, the fandamental distinction be- 
 tween '^ Individualism " and Socialism must be sought in the 
 oj>position of these two conceptions. 
 
 Individualists, and foremost amongst them our autocrat;^, 
 cherish tliis degrading: notion of the State: that it is merely 
 an organ of Society, synonimous with •' Government" — with 
 the political machinery ot Society. We claim — to quote Web- 
 ster once more — that the State is '• a whole people, united in 
 one body politic," in other words, that 
 Tlie State is the organized Society/. 
 
 We cannot better contrast these two conceptions than by 
 comparing the views of Herbert Spencer when he was a young 
 philosopher with his present views now that he is a mature 
 one. 
 
 Young Spencer wrote a book, called "Social Statics," which 
 to a great extent, has become a manual to our '• let-alone " 
 politicians. In that work he starts out with a "first princi- 
 ple " from which he proposes to reason out, deductive!}', the 
 whole science of government — a method, by the way, that is 
 tboughc rather precarious by scientific men of to-day. This 
 assumed axiom which, undf)ubtedly, looks very captivating 
 at first sight, is that " every man has freedom to do all that 
 he wills, pi'ovided he infringes not the like freedom of any oth- 
 er man." From iliis "principle" — of whicli we shall pres- 
 ently have more to say — he proves with flawless logic, 
 that Society is simply a voluntarri association of men for 
 mntual protection and the State merely its organ to that end. 
 The busi.iess of the State, theretore, is only to secure to each 
 citizen unlimited freedom to exercise his faculties. Then, to 
 be sure, the State has no right to tax men of property for ed- 
 ucating other men's childi'en, or for feeding the poor or even 
 for looking after the Public Health. In taking upon itself 
 these functions the State is acting the part of an aggressor iu. 
 ficead of that of a protector. 
 
78 TPIE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 The State is a policeman — notliing more. Uy and by, whea 
 the millennium arrives. t!ie State will lose even that function ; 
 it will become a rudimentary organ. The State will then dis- 
 appear altogether. As long as it exists. It is nothing but a 
 necessary evil; onh'' instituted for the bad, and only a burden 
 to the good. If the facts do not verify that conclusion, so 
 much the worse for the facts. If the State's activity does spread 
 more and more, even in Spencer's own country — in response 
 to the pressure of the '' Logic of Events," and in spite of the 
 frantic struggles of its ruling class: the wealthy middle-class 
 —so much the worse for the State. 
 
 Such was the reasoning of Spencer in 1850; and these views 
 are accepted and practiced by the ruling powers of our coun- 
 try, as far as in them lies. Our capital-holders cry out: 
 "You, State! You Government ! Your whole business, you 
 know, consists in securing us unlimited freedom to exercise 
 our faculties. That is all we are doing here ; the whole crowd 
 of us are exercising our faculties, each to the extent of his 
 ability. It does not concern you a bit whom or how many 
 we are able to fleece or how much we fleece them; or how 
 many fall and are trampled upon. Let r.s alone, then, and 
 simply see to it that we arc not interfered with ! That is what 
 you are paid for, you know. 'Every one look out for him- 
 self, and the devi: take the hindmost,"' is our and your rule 
 of action.". And the *' government " lets them alone. That 
 is to say, it allows itself to be made into a peace-ouicer of a 
 singular sort. For suppose a policeman should see a bully at- 
 tack a weaker man, and should say to himself: *' It is not my 
 business to protect that weak manor to interfere with tlie com- 
 batants at all. I take it to be my dut3% just to see to it that 
 no one interferes with them. Sol will make a ring round 
 them and let the best man win." That is what our so called 
 *•• Governments" virtually do. and so the shrewd greedy indi- 
 viduals who can exercise their faculties do so to their heart's 
 content and grow fat at tlie expense of other individuals. Prob- 
 ably in no other age did individuals have such .a power over 
 their neighbors as they have now in consequence ot this "let- 
 alone " polic}'. Every factory, mine, workshop and railroad 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 70 
 
 shows the working: of it. The individual Vaiidcrbilt lias ac- 
 quired two Imiidred nnllions, while another individual — per- 
 haps the producer of pirt of his fortune. — is sent to prison as 
 a tramp 
 
 But that is all in order. For hear youni^ Spencer: "The 
 shouldering aside the weak by the strong, which leaves so 
 many in shallows and miseries, is the decree of a large, for- 
 seeing benevolence, regarded not separately, but in connection 
 with the interests of universal humanity. To step in between 
 weakness and its consequences suspends the progress of weed- 
 ing out those of lower development '' — and Vanderbilt and 
 Gould, of course, are the '' strong," and men ot ^* higher de- 
 velopment! " 
 
 Why do not those men of property — of " higher develop- 
 ment" — abolish this good-for-nothing '"'State" altogether? 
 Would it not be a good speculation for them to let Courts of 
 Justice to the highest bidder, and farm out the prosecution of 
 wars to stock-companies? Can they not buy protection against 
 violence, as well as insurance against fire, and more cheaply 
 too, on the glorious free-competition plan? Why do they not 
 do it? 
 
 Well, perhaps the State is something else than an organ 
 af.er all. 
 
 Herbert Spencer, the mature and profound philnsopher, pur- 
 sues the far more scientific method of studying Society, as it 
 is, and the process of its development, instead of evolving it, 
 as young Spencer did, out of his own inner consciousness. 
 
 His results now are, that the body politic, instead of being 
 a •' voluntary " association is, what Socialists claim that it is, 
 an Organism. 
 
 IJeside arguments in his other works he devotes a very able 
 and ingenious essay to the drawing of parallels between a 
 highly developed State and the most developed animals, and 
 sums up r 
 
 '' That they gradually increase in mass ; that they become, lit- 
 tleby little more complex •,that at the same time their parts grow 
 more mutually dependent ; and that thpy continue to live and 
 grow as wholes, while successive generations of their unit/ 
 
80 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 appear and disappear — are broad peculiarities, which bodies 
 politic display, in common withallliving bodies, and iu which 
 they and other livinf^ bodies dilTer fro in everything else." 
 
 In several striking passages Spencer farther shows with 
 what singular closeness correspondences can be traced in the 
 details between the two kinds of organisms, as, for instance, 
 between the distributing system of animal bodies and the dis- 
 tributing sj^stem of bodies politic, or between our economic 
 division of labor, and that prevailing iu organic bodies, '* so 
 strild:ig, indeed, that the expression ' physiological division of 
 labor ' has been suggested by it." 
 
 And some of i he leading contrasts between the two kinds 
 of organisms, he shows, are far less important than appears 
 at first glance. Thus, the distinction that the living elements 
 of Society do not, as-in individual organisms, form one con- 
 tinuous mass, disappears, when we consider that the former 
 are not separated by intervals of dead space, but diffused 
 through space, covered with life of u lower order, which min- 
 isters to their life. And thus with this other peculiarity, 
 that the elements of a social organism are capable of moving 
 from place to place, is obviated by the fact, that as farmers, 
 manufacturers and traders, men generally carry on business 
 in tlie same localities; that, at all events, each great centie of 
 hidustry, each manufacturing town or district, continues al- 
 ways in the same place. 
 
 There is then but one distinction left that may be deemed 
 material. In the Social Organism the living units are con- 
 scious, while in the animal organism it is the whole that 
 possesses consciousness. 
 
 But then those other highly developed organisms, — to wit : 
 the vegetable ones, — have no consciousness at all. Society 
 could tlien be considered a mighty plant whose units are high- 
 ly developed animals. 
 
 Again, though the social organism has no consciousness of 
 its own, it certainly has a distinctive character of its owr; a 
 corporate individual Wj, a corporate '' oneness." As a unit of 
 that organism every individual certainly displays a wholly dif- 
 ferent character from thai of the organism itself. Every Nation 
 
THE SPHEnE OF THE STATE. 81 
 
 Aas its own spirit, wliich the Germans call the ^^VoUcsgeist;^* 
 a spirit whieli has its life in the national history, which pro- 
 duces specific traits of nationality, differing from the com- 
 mon traits of hnmanity. It generally lies deep, hidden, un- 
 Buspected niitil such a moment arrives as that with us, when 
 Fort r)uniter was fired upon ; then rising, as it were, out of 
 an abyss it urges thinkers and actors resistlessly on to pursve, 
 unwittingly, the loftiest ideal of the race. This corporate in- 
 dividuality is far from being identical with average '^ Public 
 Opinion." It is sin generis and makes the Social Organism an 
 organism siii generis. 
 
 We therefore insist, with even greater force than Spencer 
 did, that the State is a living Organism, differing from other 
 orufanisms i:i no essential respect. This is not to be under- 
 stood in a simply metaphorical sense; it is not that the State 
 merely resembles an organism, but that it, including with the 
 people the land and all that the land produces, literally is 
 an organism^ personal and territorial. 
 
 The " Government " — the punishing and restraining author- 
 ity — may possibly be dispensed with at some future time. 
 But the State — never. To diapense with the State would be 
 to dissolve Society. 
 
 It follows that the relation of the State, the body politic, to 
 lis, its citizens, is actually that of a tree to its cells, and not 
 that of a heap of sand to its grains, to which it is entirely in- 
 different how many other grains of sand are scattered and 
 trodden under foot. 
 
 This is a conception of far-reaching consequence. 
 
 In the^rs^ place, it, together with the modern doctrine of 
 Evolution., as applied to all organisms, deals a mortal blow to 
 the theory of ''man's natural rights." the theory of man's 
 *' inalienable right " to life, liberty, property, ''happiness'' 
 &c., the theory of which mankind during the last century has 
 lieard and read so much ; the theory that has been so as- 
 siduously preached to our dispossessed classes, and which has 
 benefitted them so little! 
 
 Natural rights ! The highest " natural right" we can im- 
 
82 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 agine is for the stronger to kill and eat the weaker, and for 
 the weaker to be killed and eaten. One of the ' ' natural rights." 
 left "man'' now, is to act the brute towards wife and children, 
 and tliat "right" the State lias already curtailed and will by- 
 and-by give it ti)e tinishing stroke. Another •* natural right," 
 very highly prized by our autocrats, is the privilege they now 
 posses of '• saving" for themselves what other people pii>- 
 duce. In brief, " natural rights " are the riglits of the niuscji- 
 lar, the cunning, the unscrupulous. 
 
 These so-called '••natural rights" and an equally fictitious 
 'Maw of nature" were invented bj^ Jean Jacques Iloussenu 
 (v\ ho followed lAither and the other Reformers in the work of 
 making breaches in the old petrified system of the Middle 
 Ages) as a metaphysical expedient to get some sanction to 
 legitimate resistance to absolute authority in kings, nobility 
 and clergy. lie derived them from a supposed "state of na- 
 ture" which he and his disciples as enthusiastically praised as 
 if they had been there and knew all about it. Now, modern 
 historical comparative methods prove conclusively that this 
 "state of natuie" never existed. A man, living from the 
 moment of his birth oiuside organized society, if this were 
 possible, would be no more a man than a hand would be a 
 hand without the b(»dy. Civil society is man's natural state. 
 Tliis " state of nature." on the other hand, wonld be for man 
 the Jiiofet unnatural state of all, and fortunately so, for in it 
 wc should not have been able to make the least headway 
 against our coiidiiions, but must have remained, till the pres- 
 ent moment, hungry, naked savages, whose " rights " would 
 not procure us a single meal. And as to a " law of natuie," 
 if it is proper to use that term at all, it is nothing but the con- 
 science and reason of civil society. 
 
 No, llousseau did say several things worth notice — as any 
 autnor who is being refuted a century after his death must 
 have done. These speculations of his are indeed worth notice, 
 to us Americans especially, since they formed the logical basis 
 of our own " epoch-making " Revolution — as a (Jerman might 
 happily call it— though we cannot help remarking that the 
 conclusion here justified the premises, rather than the rever^'e. 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 83 
 
 Aud, further, tliey also furnished the justification, the steam- 
 power, for tlie great French Kevokuion. The incidents of the 
 hitter event, however, showed that llor.sseau coukl. under cer- 
 tain circumstances, be a very unsa^>.' guide ; tliey demonstrated 
 tliat the ''Natural lligiits of Man " were good tools to tear 
 down rotten systems with, but bandy foundations on which 
 to erect new systems. 
 
 We have been out-spoken on this matter, because it is so im- 
 portant that thoughtful people should know that philosophic 
 ^ociaUsts jepudiate that theory of •• natural rights,"' and hi- 
 sist that the lesson taugiit bj' Rousseau and repeated (why 
 not say so outright'?) in our own Declaration of Independ- 
 enc-e must be unlearned before any firm foundation can be 
 reacned. Unfortunately nearly ail our "reformers"' — men witli 
 the noLilest andotten truly JSocialist hearts — cling to it and build 
 on mau"s "God-given Rights " as if they were the suecial 
 conlidants of Uod. 
 
 lint Carlyie is emphatically right when he says " iVTothing 
 solid can be founded on shams; it must conform to the reali- 
 ties, the verities of things." 
 
 Here is such a realit}- : 
 
 It is Society, organized Society, the State that gives us all the 
 rights we have. To the State we owe our freedom. To it we 
 owe our living and property, for outside of organized Society 
 man's needs far surpasses his means. The humble beggar 
 owes much to the State, but the haughty millionaire far more, 
 for outside of it they both would be worse oft' than the beggar 
 now is. To it we owe all that w^e are and all that we 
 liave. To it we owe our civilization. It is by its help 
 that we have reached such a condition as man individual- 
 ly never would have been able to attain. Progress is tlie 
 struggle with Nature for master}^ is war with the misery and 
 inabilities of our " natural " condition. Tiie Stf^te is the or- 
 ganic union of us all to wage that war, to subdue Mature, to 
 redress natural defects and inequalities. The State therefore, 
 so far from being a burden to the ''• good," a '' necessary evil," 
 is man"s greatest good. 
 
 This conceal vt «•< the State as an organism thus consigns 
 
84 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 the '■'' rights of man " to obscurity and puts DiU>j in the fore- 
 ground. 
 
 In tiie second phice, we now can ascertain the truespliere of 
 the iStatc. That is, we now can coninicnce to build something 
 solid. 
 
 We ^ay /S^j/iere on purpose; we do not ask what arc the 
 '•'■ riglils."' •' duties " or "functions '* of the State, for it it truly 
 is aa organism ic is just as improper to speak of its ri^lits, du- 
 ties or functions towards its citizens as it is to speak of a 
 man's rights, duties and functions in relation to his heart, hjs 
 legs, or his head. Tlie State iias rights, duties and functions 
 in I'chition to other organisms, but towards its own members 
 it has only a sphere or activities. 
 
 The sphere of the State simply consists in cjiring for its own 
 welf ire, just as a, man's sphere, as far as iiiiuself is concerned, 
 consists in caring for his owii well-being. If tiiat be proper- 
 ly done, then his brain, his lungs and his stomacli will liave 
 iiotliing to complain of. 
 
 So with the State. Its wliole sphere is the making all spec- 
 ial aclivitie- work togrthcr for one general cm] : its own wel- 
 fare, or the Public Gaud. Observe that the Public Liood, the 
 General Welfare, implies far more than •* thegreatest good to 
 the greatest mnnber " on which our "practical" politicians 
 of today basetheirtrilling measures. Their motto broadly sanc- 
 tions the sacriticc of minorities to majoiities, while the •' Gen- 
 eral Welfare'' unmans the greatest good of every individual 
 cili::en. 
 
 To that end the State may do anything whatsoever which 
 is shown to be exi)edifcnt. 
 
 Jt may, as it always has done, limit the right of a person to 
 dispone of himself in mariiage as h(3 pleases. 
 
 The Stat(>. is, in the words of J. S. Mill, " fidly entitled to 
 abrogate or alter any parti(nilar right of property which it 
 judges to stand in the waj'" of the puljlic good." 
 
 The State may tomorrow, if it judges it expedient, take all 
 the capital of the country from its present owners, without 
 any comi)ensation whatsoever, and convert it into social Cap- 
 ital. 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 85 
 
 In Chapter 1 we showed that the whole wealth of tlie coun- 
 try {i.e. not natural wealth but the sum of all Values) is 
 the result of Labor. Asj against capitalists the producers, 
 therefore, would clearly be entitled to it. But as against the 
 State, tlie organized Society, even J^abor does not give us a 
 particle of title to what ouriiands and bi'ain produce. 
 
 One need not be a Socialist to acknowledge that. 
 
 Wm. J>. AVeeden, a manufacturer in Providence, K. I., says 
 in a ciiticism on Henry George's book in the Atlantic MunUi" 
 hj for Dec. 1880 : 
 
 '*The axe yon use is not yours, though yoti may have niade 
 it, instead of buying it in the market. The idea of the axe, 
 its potentiality, which enables it to prevail over natm^e. does 
 not belong to 3'ou. This is the result of long generations of 
 development, from the rudest stone-tool to the elegant steel- 
 blade which rings through the pine-woods of Maine. This 
 belongs to Societ3% Neither the laborer nor the capitalist owns 
 that principle. So ever^'where. Neither Labor nor (Capital 
 emploj^s the other. It is Society which employs both." 
 
 To whom does the telegraph belong? To Society. Neither 
 Prof. Morse nor any other inventor can lay sole claim to it. 
 It greio little by little. 
 
 With still greater force the State may reclaim possession of 
 all the land within its limits, all laws, customs and deeds to 
 the contrary notwithstanding. 
 
 We say '• with still greater force," not because tlie owner- 
 ship of land is on a diiferent footing from tliat of other Cap- 
 ital. Its Value, like that of other Capital, is partly real, aris- 
 ing from the labor of this and farmer generations, and partly 
 unreal, due to the raonoiDoly of it and the constantly increas- 
 ing necessities of the community. It therefore is the creation 
 of Society as much as other Capital. We say so because the 
 Common Law of Great Britain and our country has always 
 claimed, and still does claim that the State is the sole landlord 
 
 "• The first thing thf student has to get rid of is the abso- 
 lute idea of ownership. Such an idea is quite unknown to the 
 EngMsh Uvv. N.> man is in law, the absolute owner of lands; 
 
86 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 he can only bold an estate in them." Williams: On the laia 
 of Beal Property. 
 
 Wlien, therefore, the Trinity Church Corporation of Xew 
 York City claims to own city property of sufficient value to 
 pay all the debts of the State of New York, its cities and vil- 
 lages, a value mainly created by the tenants who have covered 
 that tract of land with buildings, grudcd and p.ived the streets 
 and built the sewers, it is simply a glaring u.■^^^palio^. 
 
 When, therefore, the increased values of Real Estate, due 
 simply to the progress of the counir3\ are permiLted, in the 
 form of increased rents "to drop into the months of landown- 
 ers as they sleep instead of being applied to the pui)lie neces- 
 sities of the Society which created it " in the words of Mill, 
 ii is only because the too *" enterprising"" individual has got 
 the better of the State. 
 
 For the same reason the landowner has been permitted to 
 possess whatever treasure may be liiddiui in it, even treasure 
 of which no man knew anything, w licn the owner entered in- 
 to possession — an allowance, than vvhicli no one moie foolish 
 or absurd could be imagined. 
 
 For the same reason the splendid opportunities which our 
 country had, both in the reconstruction of the Soulhei'ii States 
 and in the settlement of our public lauds, for making the 2sa- 
 tion the sole Landlord, were not so nuich as thought oi. 
 
 Our landowucrs ought to admit with r.];ickstone: *• We 
 seem to fear, that our tith-s are not qinto good ; it is well the 
 great mass obey the laws without inquiring wliy they were 
 made so and not otherwise." 
 
 But there is no need to devote more space hei-e to discuss 
 the sui)reme title of the State to the land since the appearance 
 of Henry George's book : '• Progress and Poverty," which 
 we lioi)e all our readers have read. The main criticism M'hich 
 Socialists have to make on tliis work is that it pushes the land 
 question — in our conntry a secondarv question in iujportance 
 — so much into the foreground, that sight is entirely lost of 
 the princi|)al question: Who should control the instruments 
 of production and transpoi'f ation ? Fuithermore. Geoi'ge seems 
 to hiive written his book Ibr Englishmen, Scotchmen and Irish- 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 87 
 
 men, rather than for Americans. To start the solution of the 
 social problem in our country, wlicrc as yet tiie great majority 
 of farmers own the land which they cultivate, with a propo- 
 sition to div'est all landowners of their titles, is lo commence 
 by making a very large portion of the workers to be benefit- 
 ed iiostile to all social change. 
 
 The State is thus fully entitled to take charge of a'l in- 
 struments of Labor and Production, and to say that all social 
 activities shall be carried on in a perfectly different manner. 
 
 Undoubtedly the whole fleecing class will interpose their 
 socalled "vested rights." That is to say because the State 
 for a long time tacitly allowed a certain class to divide the 
 common stock of social advantages among themselves and ap- 
 propriate it to their own individual benetit theretore the State 
 is estopped, they say, from ever recovering it. And not alone 
 will they claim undisturbed possession of what they have, but 
 also the right to use it in the future as they have in the past; 
 that is, they will claim a •' vested right" to fleece the masses 
 to all eternity. 
 
 But such a protest will be just as vain as was that of the 
 Pope against the loss of his temporal sovereignty. The theory 
 of " vested rights " never ap|)lics when a revolution has taker. 
 place; when the whole structure of Society is changed. The 
 tail of a tadpole that is developing into a frog may protest as 
 nuich as it pleases ; Nature heeds it not. And when the Irog 
 is an accomplished fact, there is no tail to protest. 
 
 This whole doctrine of "' vested rights " moreover, has its 
 reason m the fact that from the dawn of history to the pres- 
 onttime we have had and huve jyrivileged classes. Henry (ijorge 
 remarks very pointedly: "-When we allow • vested rights' 
 we still wear the collar of the Saxon thrall." The only 'vested 
 right " any man has is the right to such institutions as will best 
 promote the Public Good. A man has no other right what- 
 ever in a civilized community. If he is not satisfied with 
 tlKit, lie may exile himself to where there is no civilization, and 
 even there liis decendants will necessarily grow up into a State. 
 
 Observe further, that the Public Welfare means more than 
 the welfare of all the Jiving individuals composing it. Since 
 
8^ THE SPHERE OP TIIE 8A*AiE. 
 
 the State is an organism, it is more than all of us collectively. 
 
 It would be absurd to say, that a man is nothing but an ag- 
 gre.iratioji of his cells. Burke said rightly of the State, that 
 it iiiciudes the dead, the living and the coming generations. 
 We are wliat we are far more by the accumulated influence of 
 past generations than by our own eiFcrts and our labor will 
 principally benefit those who are to follow us. The Public 
 Welfare thus includes the welfare of the generations to come. 
 This comi)rehensive conception places the pettiness and im- 
 potency of our '• indivirlualism " in the most glaring light. 
 For liow can it ever be the private interest of mortal individ- 
 uals to make immediate sacrifices for the distant future? 
 
 "' But if the State's Sphere is to be extended to everything 
 that may alTect the Public W^elfare, why! then there is no 
 stopping to what the State will attempt." 
 
 We let Professor Huxley reply ("Administi-ative Nihilism.'') 
 "• Surely the answer is obvious, that. 0:1 similar grounds, the 
 right of a man to eat when he is hungry, might be disputed, 
 because if you once allow that he may eat at all there is no 
 stopping, until he gorges himself and suflers all the ills of a 
 surfeit." 
 
 Does it not now seem more profitable, especially to our dis- 
 possessed classes, to lay stress on Buti/ rather than on lU'jhts? 
 
 Docs our conception of the Slate not furni-h a very iirni 
 foundation, firm enough to build a New Social Order oar 
 
 Let us then give due credit to Herbert Spencer for his pro- 
 found speculations on the Social Organism. He has indeed, 
 in them laid the foundation for constructive Socialism, as far 
 as the Anglo-Saxon peoples are concerned, just as fJicardo by 
 his speculations on Value did it for ci itical Socialism. Tine, 
 Spencer is still the apostle of '"Individualism; " he exhibits 
 still a morbid aversion to all State-activity, but we have a right 
 to call his present utterances on tLat point mere crotchets, 
 since they do not receive the least support from his splendid 
 arguments in favor of the organic character of Society. 
 
 That is also Professor Huxley's opinion. He says: "I 
 cannot but think, that the real force of the analogy is totally 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 89 
 
 opposed to the negative (individualistic) view of the State- 
 function. 
 
 "Suppose that in accordance with this view, each muscle 
 •were to maintain, tliat the nervous system liad no right to in- 
 terfere with its contraction except to prevent it from Jiin- 
 dering the contraction of another muscle; or each gland, 
 that it had a right to secrete, as long as its secretion inter- 
 f<;red with no other; suppose every separate cell left five to 
 follow its own interests and be • let alone.' Lord of all I what 
 would become of the body physiological?' 
 
 This negative view of the State-function is a very modern 
 one. So thinker or philosophic Stateman up to the IStli cen- 
 tury anywhere dreamt of it. Not until the exaggerated form 
 of the Protestant doctrine of the independence of the individ- 
 ual had taken possession of men's minds; not until the greac 
 delusion had become prevalent, that we have been brought 
 into this world, each for the sake of himself, did it come in- 
 to vogue. Then it was that William von Humboldt (who may 
 be said to be the father of the doctrine) deliberately degraded 
 the State below a peace-officer or a watch-dog. 
 
 But even ultra-Protestant nations that adopted this view in 
 theory have constantly been impelled by an inward neces.<ity 
 to repudiate it in practice. It forbids the State, as we iiave 
 seen, to concern itself about the poor, and yet the Poor law 
 of Elizabeth (^still in force in Great Britain and our country) 
 confers upon every man a legal claim to relief from funds ob- 
 tained by enforcing a contribution from the general couununi- 
 ty. It forbids the State to concern itself about schools, libra- 
 ries, universities, asyliuns and hospitals, and yet it concerns it- 
 self more and more with them. England is to this day proud 
 of having spent a hundred million of dollars in abolishing 
 slavery in her colonies, and in these latter days she is spread- 
 ing her activity over railroads and telegraphs, without the 
 least apparent compunction of conscience. And our country, 
 (especially under democratic control the champion of this 
 '' let alone " abomination) finds today her cliief glory in hav- 
 ing torn slavery up hy the roots with its strong national arm. 
 But let it, in the third place, be emphatically understood, 
 
90 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 that when we insist tbnt the State ought to extend its sphere 
 over all social noLiviLies. we do not mean the present State 
 at all. 
 
 Our Republic is a State. Parlianientary Great Britain is a 
 State. Imperial Germany, autocratic Russia and bureaucratic 
 China. are all social organisms. But not one of them is a full 
 gruion State, a lull^^ dcveloi)ed organism. In all of them 
 our own country included, classes exercise the authority and 
 direct ail social activity. 
 
 Do not here bring forward the insi|)id commonplace that, 
 properly speaking, we have no '• classes '' in our country and 
 that the '• people "" govern here I No classes? Indeed ! 
 
 Roam around in New York, Boston, Philadelphia or any of 
 our towns above a countiy-village, for ihiit matter, and you 
 will find them all inapi)ed out into districts stricth" according 
 to the poverty or wealth of the inhabitants. Those who live 
 in the poorer districts along neglected dhty streets in.badly 
 arranged and badly furnished liouses constitute a lower caste 
 in fact, since nine-tenths of them Q-duuothy any possibility^ un- 
 der onr Social system, get out of it. They and their children 
 after iXwuxmust i-emain in their povertj', squalor and degrada- 
 tion as long as this system endures. In the healthy, beauti- 
 ful and comfortable quarters we find those who arrogate to 
 themselves the name of •• Society, " our "' best people," "prom- 
 inent citizens." 
 
 Which of these two classes govern — the majority living in 
 tenement-houses, back-alleys and ill-smelling neighborhoods 
 or the minority in the aristocratic districts? 
 
 It is frequently remarked that *' our best people " have with- 
 drawn themselves from politics. Suppose that is so — though 
 •t is also noticed that men of wealih lately have secured seats 
 m Congress to such an extent tliat our national Senate, to a 
 /^reat extent, consists of very rich people — still that is very 
 little to the point. For, since the State is the organized So- 
 (jiety, •• politics " oonstitnte but a trifle of the social activi- 
 /;ies, compared with the various forms of industry. AVe have 
 geen that it is our '* prominent citizens " who control our man- 
 ufactures, transportation and commerce, who indeed exercise 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 91 
 
 an autocratic contrf»l over these, and that they are destiiiod to 
 do the like hi agriculture within a short time. Then- control over 
 the transporting interests of the couutr}^,— interests so dom- 
 inant that it has been jnslly said : '• He who controls the high- 
 ways of a Nation, controls the Nation itself '• — is indeed so su. 
 preme that Vanderbilt is reported to have observed with re- 
 freshing candor : ''The roads are not run for the benefit of 
 ''the dear public." No matter, whether he has been so candid 
 or not, they certainly are not. 
 
 P litics then form but a very small part of our social activ- 
 ities. The people are said to govern thtse; their "govern- 
 ment," in fact, consists in choosing on election day between 
 iwo sets of men presented for their snfiVages. What that 
 amounts to we shall see in another chapter, and shall here 
 simply remark, that as soon as the one or theother setof men 
 have been elected they pass entirely out of the control of the 
 voters. Who then contiol the actions of those thus chosen? 
 
 W^e shall entirely pass by the ever-recuri ing cliarges of bri- 
 bery of legislators and whole legislatures; we shall pass by 
 another reported candid admission by Vaiderbilt: " When I 
 want to buy up an}- politician I always find — the most purchase- 
 able;" w^e shall pass by the solemn declaration of a com- 
 mittee of the kgisliituie of the State of New York, that no 
 bill could pass the Senate \a ithout Vanderbilt's consent. We 
 let all these things pass as perhaps nou proven. 
 
 But one thing is so evident that no one will dream of dis- 
 puting it, as soon as its meaning is faiily understood ; these 
 autocrats of our industrial affairs dictate the policy of the gov^ 
 ernraent to legislatures and Congress, to presidents, governors 
 and judges, and have dictated it since the establishment of our 
 government. What we mean is simply what we have all along 
 insii-ted upon, that both our national and local governments 
 throughout profess allegiance to the ''let alone" polio}-; 
 that all executive, legislative and judicial officers are trained 
 from the day they enter school or college to look on public 
 afiairs through capitalistic spectacles. We simply mean to 
 say that not one so-called statesman of any influence in either 
 of the two great political parties ever dreams of interJer- 
 
02 THE SPHERE of the state. 
 
 ing "with the "■ business" — interests of our plutocrats, if he 
 am lirlp it. 'J'hey nil echo the sentiuieut of Judge Foraker, 
 the Ifepublicau cancUdate for f^overuor of Oliio : " Capital is 
 sensitive', it sliri)iks from the very appearance of danger.^' 
 
 What need tlieu for them ''to go into politics" when they 
 already have their devoted retainers iu eveiy place of auth(u-- 
 ity? 
 
 They ueed have no fear ever to be interfered witli as long 
 as they retain tlieir pi'ceniinent position in ii:dustri;il alfairs. 
 The ruling class industrially will always be the ruling class 
 politically. 
 
 'J'herefore we say it is Utopian to hope to liave a legal nor- 
 mal working day of eight hours, much more so one of six hours, 
 as Moody proposes in his Land and Labor, as long as the Es- 
 tablished Order lasts. 
 
 Therefore it is Utopian to hope to have land uatioualized as 
 George advocates, as long as we have the wage-system. 
 Therefore capitalists will very likely succeed in their strenuous 
 opposition to the i^ropositlon made by a late Postmaster Gen- 
 eral, that the Nation shall take possession of the telegraphs 
 of the country. But if they should at last be compelled to 
 yield — because the necessities of the Social organism command 
 it — they are sure to demand and receive extravagant compon- 
 Eation for their •" i)roi)ert3%" for the '• vested rights " of cap- 
 italists have always been appreciated, while as we already have 
 noted the working-classes have never been thought entitled 
 to compensation when new machinery drove them out of old 
 employments. 
 
 While now our autocrats generally are satisfied, aid well 
 may be satistied, with their veto on all proposed public meas- 
 ures, prejudicial to their siuister interests, and with interdict- 
 ing all legislation in favor of the masses, tliey never have ob- 
 jected to any State-action that would put money into their 
 pockets. They have been, and still are to a great extent, ben- 
 eticaries of the Nation, another proof that ^/tc?/ really govern, 
 even politically. 
 
 Wc all know that the National Government has presenteu 
 
THE SPilERE OF THE STATE. 93 
 
 six railroad companies with an empire of land as large as i 
 Great Britain and Ireland and half as much more, and in ad- J 
 dition has guaranteed bonds of theirs, which with accrued in- 
 terest at the maturity of these bonds will amount to more than 
 ISO million dollars. 
 
 We have already seen, how the whole machinery of Govern- ;' 
 ment has been set and kept in motion to acquire foreign mar- 
 Icets for our autocrats and to prepare our working-classes for 
 the requisite reduction in wages, simply that this wage-sys- 
 tem might secure a new lease of life, however short and pre- \ 
 carious and however injurious the effect which this policy 
 would have on tlie condition of the workers. 
 
 We see to-day, as our forefathers have often seen, how agi- 
 tated the tvv'o great political parties of our country are on the 
 questions of Free-Trade or Protection. This issue makes it 
 so very plain how paramount the inlluence of our autocrats is 
 in political affairs. It is our manufacturers who want protec- 
 tion ; it is our commercial men who want free-trade. The form- 
 er undoubtedly pretend, that protection benelits t!)e laborhig 
 classes ; but that this claim is a mere sham is evident from the 
 fact that they never have proposed to discourage the immigra- 
 tion of foreign laborers; that they would violently oppose a 
 proposal to that effect; that they, on the contrary, always 
 have done all ttiey could to encourage foreign laborers to come 
 here, that tliey even send agents over to Europe to coax them 
 by false pretences over here. Our protectionist fleecers want 
 protection for the results of Labor ^ but free-trade in Labor. The 
 commercial men. on the other hand. whos<! interest it is to 
 Lave free-trade in all things, never have objected to handsome 
 gifts from Government for their ships in the guise of subsidies 
 i-n- the. performance of mail-servici s. 
 
 Class-rule is always detrimental to the welfare of the whole . 
 «:)cial organism, because classes, when in power, cannot help 
 considering themselves pre-eminently tiie State. Tiiey, fur- 
 thermore, cannot help being biased in favor of their special 
 hiterests :tnd therefore are necessaril}- hostile to the rest of the 
 Nation, iuid aa we daily see in our free-traders and protection- 
 ists, hostile to each otiier. INlaithew Arnold speaks truly 
 
94 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 when he st.j^s that State-action by a hostile class ought to be 
 depreciitetl. 
 
 Our Iiopiiblic, therefore, just as all other modern States, may 
 properly ])c compared to some imaginable animal organism, 
 where tlie blood, proceeding from tlie collective digestion, is 
 })rincipally diverted to the stomach or the brain, while the 
 arms and legs are stinted as much as possible. 
 
 This (7/(7.s's-State will develop into a Commonwealth — bless 
 the Puritans for that splendid English word! It will develop 
 into a State that will know of no *• clas-es " either in tlieory 
 or practice; in other words into a State where the whole popu- 
 lation is incorporated into Society. In the place of the present 
 partially evolved organism in which the arms and legs, and 
 to a great extent the brain, are stinted in blood as much as 
 possible, we shall have an «n-ganism •" whose every organ shall 
 receive blood in proportion to the work it does " in the lan- 
 guage of Spencer. 
 
 That is to say : the Commonwealth will he a State of Equal- 
 ity. 
 
 It is said that '•• we already have equality," and when we 
 ask the meaning of the phrase we are told that all are " eq.ial 
 before the law." If that were really the case — what it is not 
 — it would be but a poor kind of equality. The cells of the 
 root and of the flower in a plant are '• equal; " the cells of 
 the foot and of the heart in an animal are '• equal." for they 
 are all properly cared for ; the organism knows of no " higher " 
 and •• lower" organs ur cells. And so it will be in the future 
 Commonwealth; there " Equality" will mean that every unit 
 of Society can truly say to any other unit : "I am not less 
 than a man, and thou art not more than a m.in." 
 
 Again, our Connnoiiwealth will put Inlerilepemlence in the 
 place of the ])ln'ases of our Declaration of Independence, which 
 claims for every citizen the " right" to life, liberty and the |)ur- 
 suit of "happiness." This declaration was evidently adopted 
 by " Individualists," as the French IJevolntion was a revolution 
 of " Individualism," for of what use is it to possess the " right " 
 to do something, when you have not the power, the nieans, 
 the opportunity to do it? Is this " right to the pursuit of 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 95 
 
 A 
 happiness " not a mocking irony to tlie masses who cannot pur- 
 sue "happiness"? We saw how the n)i]]ionah-e and beggar / 
 would be equally miserable outside of the State, and behold, ' 
 how much this Rights-of-Man doctrine has done for the former 
 and how very little for the latter ! 
 
 The future Commonwealth will /ieTp every individual to attain 
 the highest development he or she lias capacity for. It will 
 lay a cover for every one at Nature's table. ''State" and 
 " State- /ieZp " will be as inseparable as a piano and music. 
 
 Do not now object, as young Spencer did in " Social Statics," 
 that this means '" transforming every citizen into a grown-up 
 baby ; " for the objection is not to the point at all. 
 
 State-help is not to do away with a man's own efforts. I do 
 not do aw^ay with a man's own cftorts. when I hand him a lad- 
 der. I do not set asidt^ his own exertions in cultivating a field, 
 because I give him a plow. Our State does not i ender useless 
 the powers ot a boy. when it furnishes liim s hools, teachers 
 and libraries. Our Commonwealth wiil relieve none of self- 
 help, but make self-help possible to all. U 'will help everybody 
 to help himself. 
 
 That is to say: this Commonw-ealth will be a Society all of 
 w^hose units have a sense of belonging together, ot being re- 
 sponsible for one another; a Society, pervaded by a feeling 
 of what we, using a foreign wo]-d, call Solidarity^ but wliat 
 we not inaptly may in English term Corporate Responsi- 
 bility. 
 
 It is worth noting that our modern Insurance companies, 
 particularly those of Life-insurance, are teaching us that re- 
 sponsibility for do they not make the strong and temper ite 
 of us use their prolonged lives to i)ay up premiiuus which go 
 to th*^ progeny of the weak and reckless 'i 
 
 •' But what about Libert j f " the reader may ask. 
 
 Many worthy persons, as we said commonidngthis chapter, 
 entertain the fear which shines forth in Alill's famous essay 
 on '•• liberty ;" the fear lest freedom should be drilled and 
 disciplined out of human life, in order that the great mill ul 
 the Commonwealth should grind smoothly. To ascertain 
 whether this feai is well grounded or not we must first know, 
 
96 THE SPHEKE OF THE STATE. 
 
 what we are to understand by the words : '•'• Freedom " and 
 "- Liberty." 
 
 Everybody calls the not being oppressed : "Liberty." That is, 
 undoubtedly, an indispensable and yet, as has been said, a most 
 Insig iiiiicant fractional part of human freedom. Then, again, 
 we mean by '* Liberty" the not being restrained, being •* at 
 Liberty " to do this or that. Now, that may be a good thing 
 or otherwise. Whether it is the one or the oth^r depends en- 
 tirely upon the answer to the question : to do ichat? 
 
 To be "at liberty " to be a tramp or to die of starvation, or 
 to steal, or to be lodged in a jail are not good things. We 
 sometimes find a great lout in a railroad car who thinks he is 
 " at liberty" to spread himself over four seats, but occasion- 
 ally he finds out, that he is not; that he must take his feet 
 down and sit along. The liberty of this lout is the " liberty " 
 which our shrewd, grasping, vulgar autocrats glorify, for it 
 means the predominance of their interests over ever3"body^ else's 
 interests, over the General Welfare. It is in the name of that 
 "liberty " that all fleecing is done. 
 
 Of that kind of liberty there always has been too much in 
 the world — somewhere. That kind of liberty means slavery 
 to somebody; means as the Yankee defined it " to do what he 
 liked and make everybody else." 
 
 Every struggle for real liberty has been a struggle against 
 that sort of " Liberty," entrenched in classes. Progress de- 
 mands the curbing of that kind of " liberty," and our Com- 
 monwealth will use no gloves in handling it. 
 
 The fact is. there is a radical difference between liberty to 
 do the right thing and liberty to do the wrong thing. That 
 is why young Spencer could not draw any sound conclusion 
 from his so-called " principle : " " that every man has freedom 
 to do all that he wills provided he does not infringe on the 
 like freedom of any other man," be(tause no one can do any 
 wrong act, without doing harm to other men; or as Professor 
 Huxley puts it: "The higher the state of civilization, 
 the more completely do the actions of one member of the so- 
 cial body influence all the rest, and the less possible is it for 
 one man to do a wrong thing without interfering, more or less, 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 97 
 
 with the freedom of all his fellow-citizens.'' 
 As Liberty is such a hazy term, why use it at all, wh( n we have 
 such a glorious word in the English language as i^/TecZo77^? 
 There is the same ditFcrence between '* Libert}'-" and *' Free- 
 dom ■" as between *• Right " and *'' Might," between '• Fiction " 
 and" Fact," between *• Shadow and •• Substauce." 
 
 '•Freedom" is something substantial. A man who is igno- 
 rant is not free. A man who is a tramp is not free. A man 
 who sees his wife and children starving is not free. A man 
 who must toil twelve liours adny, in order to vegetate, is not 
 free. A man wdio is full of cares is not free. A wage-worker, 
 whether laborer or clerk, wiio every day for certain hours 
 must be at the beck and call of a " master " is not free. As 
 Shelley says in the Apostrophe to Freedom. 
 
 "For the laborer thou art bread." 
 
 "Right so far. But Freedom is not alone bread, but leisure, 
 absence of cares, self-determination, ability and means to do 
 the right thing . Restraint very often is just requisite to de- 
 velop that ability; indeed, Restraint is the very life of Free- 
 dom. 
 
 Freedom is something the individual unaided can never 
 achieve, lie is as drift-wood in a flood. It is somt.'thing to 
 be conferred on him by a well oi'ganized bod}' politic. 
 
 Now certain people have altogether too much ''liberty." 
 Our Commonwealth will evolve that priceless good : Fkkedom. 
 
 This is by no means a finished Humanity, but there is a con- 
 stant unfolding, a steady advance towards completeness and 
 perfection. True, this or that Nation may decay, but some 
 other Nation then comes to the rescue. All that Socialists un- 
 dertake to do is to ascertain the sevf^ral stages so far reached 
 by Humanity on its onward march, therefrom to infer the 
 next advance that will be made by some one of the social or- 
 ganisms in the van of progress, and then they rev trently pro- 
 pose to help Humanity in taking the next step. They fidl 
 well know that all that individuals can do is to aid or cheek 
 that onward movement, but that to stop it is even beyond a 
 Czar's control. 
 
98 THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 
 
 We have observed that it is round the workhig-classes thai 
 the battle of progress has beeiiwa^ed; their condition has 
 determined the stage of civilization, though history has ^iven 
 but scant account: of thoni. Dui'ing the two groat periods 
 that lie behind us : Slavery and Serfdom, they were in fact 
 and in law subject to their lords who took the lion's share 
 without disguise, as a matter of right. Based on that subjec- 
 tion, however, there was an intense feeling of Unity which 
 pervaded the wdiole of Society ; a Unity tliat made these sj'S- 
 tems so strong and so lasting, and witliout which Unity no 
 social system can be enduring. But men rebelled against the 
 subjection. Luther was fortunate enough to start that rebel- 
 lion in the religious sphere, for it is always at the top that 
 all radical changes coninionce. 
 
 Tlien was inaugurated the era in which we are living, which 
 really is nothing but a transition period between the two great 
 systems of the past and another great system of the Inture, 
 for it possesses no unity. It corresponds exactly to the transi- 
 tion-period betweeen Slavery and Serfdom, when Chiistianity 
 was striving for mastery. It is an era of anarchy, of criticism, 
 of negations, of opposition, of hypocrisy, as this was one. 
 Instead of Slavery or Serfdom and Subjection we now have 
 the wage-system and contracts. That is to say, while for- 
 merly the lords appropriated the results of labor 
 openly, they now do it underhandodly. Tlie wage-work- 
 er, if he will live, must agree ta reltiiqiiish one-half of what 
 he produces. There is, m fact, fully as much subjection now 
 as formerly, but it has taken on a softer, a more hypocritic 
 form. That is why the rebellion not only continues, but has 
 reached down into the material sphere and is shaking tiie very 
 foundation of Society. It will not cease before all slavish 
 6ul)jection is done away with. 
 
 Then tliis ^' Individu .lism," this re-action against unques- 
 , iioned submission, will find its compensation in another Unity. 
 Everybody will again feel a dread of living for himself only. 
 We shall have Corporate liesponsibility^ Equality^ Freedom^ all 
 three combined inlNTEU-DEPENDENCE, Social Cooperation. 
 It is with the Social organism as with a harmoniously devel- 
 
THE SPHERE OF THE STATE. 99 
 
 oped man, who has three stages of growth : implicit obedi- 
 ence, then restless self-assertion, at last intelligent., loyai co- 
 operation with what has a rightful claim to liis allegiance. 
 
 This Inter-dependence will find its practical expression in 
 The Cooperative Commonwealth, which in the following 
 
 chapter will l)e seen to be now expedient, for the Jirat timc in 
 human historif. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 EXPEDIENCY OF THE COOPERATIVE CO^IMONWEALTH. 
 
 '• The relations of stmctnres are actually such, that, by the 
 help of a central reo^ulalive system, each organ is supplied 
 with blood ill proportion to the work it does." — Herbert 
 Spencer. 
 
 •"No thinking man will controvert, that associated industry 
 is tlie most powerful agent of production, and that the piinci- 
 ple of association is susceptible of further and benelicial de- 
 velopment." — J. S. Mill. 
 
 '''' All human interests, combined human endeavors and so- 
 cial growths in this world, have at a certain stage of their de- 
 velopment required organizing; and work, the grandest of 
 human interests, does now require it." — Carlyle. 
 
 We now have reached our objective point : the Cooperative 
 Commonwealth. 
 
 The previous chapters were mere stepping-stones, leading ua 
 to where we are, but as such indispensable, for it is their reason- 
 ing, raiher than its own reasonableness, which will determine 
 whether the Socialist System is to be. like Thomas More's 
 imaginary island, a '' Utopia: " an un-reality^ or not. 
 
 The oI)sei-vation in our Declaration of Independence *'that 
 mankind are more disposed to sutler while evils are sulTerable 
 thiiu to riglit themselves by abolishuig the forms to wliich 
 
THE COOPERATIVE C0:vIM:0N\VE VLTH. 101 
 
 they are accustomed" is true of changes in forms of govern- 
 ment, but much more true of alterations in tlie structure of 
 Society. To these, in fact. Nations must be driven by an in- 
 ward necessity. 
 
 For this reason we had to show that the present chaotic sys- 
 tem, with all instruments of Labor in private hands, will soon 
 become unbearable and renders a change of some Icind inev- 
 itably impending. For this reason, further, we had to point 
 out the signifir-ance of the recent factory and educational leg- 
 islation and State-action in regard to railroads and telegraphs, 
 accomplished or proposed in our country and Great Britain, 
 and to show that this extension of the State's activity was a 
 sign that Society is approaching a crisis in its development; 
 an indication that this transitory state in which we are living, 
 after having lasted about as long as thatother transitory state 
 between Paganism and Christianity, is on the point of crys- 
 tallizing into another enduring Social Order. 
 
 These reflections will make it clear — and we cannot lay too 
 much stress upon it — that INIodern Socialists do uot pretend to 
 be architects of the New Order. That is to say; they do not 
 propose to demolish the present order of things, as we tear 
 down an old building, and then compel hutnanity to rear a new 
 edifice according to any plan that they have drawn. They 
 have no such absurd idea, just because they know that Society 
 is not an edifice at all, but an organism; and men are not in 
 the habit of "planning" the development of a dog or a rosebush. 
 
 Right here is the radical distinction between us. Socialists 
 of the German school, and such Socialists as St. Simon and 
 P'ourier. These had the same faults to find with the present 
 social order as we have; they were, indeed, capital critics, bus 
 as reformers they were miserable failures simply because they 
 wanted to be architects — inventors. They entirely ignored all 
 social and political conditions and wanted mankind to don their 
 ready-made systems as men do ready-made clothes. Fourier 
 fancied that hie had only to publish his system and all classes 
 of Frenchmen would eagerly embrace it and in the twinkling 
 of an eye transform all France into '' phalansteries." St. Si- 
 
102 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 mon went even to the length of havhig his first scheme i)atent- 
 ed. 
 
 They antl all the old-style socialists represent the childhood, 
 of our movement, stand in the same relation to it as astrology 
 and alchemy do to ])hysical science. All gi-eat changes that 
 have taken place in the world liave had to pass through a 
 " Utopian "pliase. These primitive Socialists were true *' Uto- 
 pists : " they invented Systems ; we are intent on discovering 
 the laws of development. They framed universal precepts ; 
 we ascertain universal sequences. 
 
 For what is ''the Cooperative Commonwealth?" 
 
 Extend in your mind Division of Labor and all the other 
 factors that increase the productivity of Labor; apply them 
 to all human pursuits as far as can be; iinagine manufactures, 
 transportation and commerce conducted on the grandest possi- 
 ble scale, and in the most effective manner; then add to Di- 
 vision of Labor its complement: Cokcert; mtroQnce adjust- 
 ment everywhere where now there is anarchy; add thnt central 
 regulative st/stein which Spencer says, distinguishes all highly 
 organized structures, and which supolies '• each organ with 
 blood in proportion to the work it does " and — behold the Co- 
 operative COMMONWEALTH I 
 
 The Cooperative Commonwealth, then, is that future Social 
 Order — the natuial heir of the present one — in which all im- 
 portant instruments of production have been taken under col- 
 lective control; in which the citizens are consciously public 
 functionaries, and in wliich their labors are rewarded accord- 
 ing to results. 
 
 A definition is an argument. 
 
 It shows that our critics, when they style Socialism a Utopia, 
 do not know about what they are talking. We can imagine a 
 caterpillar, more knowing than its fellows, predicting to an- 
 other that some day they both will be butterllies, and the oth- 
 er sneeringly replying: '' What Utopian nonsense you are talk- 
 ing there! " Our censoi*s are just as ignorant of the ground- 
 work of Socialism. For our definition makes it evident that 
 the Cooperative Commonwealth is not to be regarded as a prod- 
 uct of personal conceit, but as an historical product, as a pruii- 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMOXWEx\LTH. 103 
 
 uct in which our whole people are unconscious partakers. 
 AVlien the times are ripe for Social Cooperation, it will be just 
 as expedient, as Feudalism Avas, or as Private Enterprise was, 
 when each, respectivel}'^, made its apj)earance. It will prove its 
 right to control by virtue of its own superior fitness. 
 
 Or is there anything Utopian in predicting that Division of 
 Labor will go on increasing? Has not wholesale production 
 already vindicated its right to be the ruling system, and is it 
 Utopian to assert that Private Ownership of Capital, so far 
 from being necessary to production in wholesale, will prove a 
 greater and greater obstruction to its inevitable development? 
 Is it Utopiau to expect that all enterprises will become more 
 and more centralized, until in the fulness of time they all end 
 in one monoj)oly, that of Society? Are not, indeed. Anti-mo^ 
 nopolists — as far as the}'' believe that they can crush the bi^ 
 establishments or even i)revent their growth — the real Uto- 
 pists? 
 
 But that is by no means all. We have not yet sufficiently 
 emphasized the central fact of Society of to-day. Not alone is 
 the necessity which we claim will drive the nations into So- 
 cialism steadily growing, but all civilized Societies are being 
 driven into Socialism under our very eyes — if we niaj' apply the 
 word '' driven " to an iinvard impulse. Not alone are the con- 
 ditions for the establishment of the New Order fast ripening, 
 hue the New Order is amongst us and asserting itself vigor- 
 ously. Not only is the social organism growing from the cir- 
 cumference by Society multiplying and subdividing its activ- 
 ities and again concenti-ating them, but the central regulativo 
 system has silently put in an appearance and is irresistiblj^ or- 
 ganizing one social activity after another. This is a fact., of 
 transcendent significance'., and yet our politicians, the gentle- 
 men of our *• editorial staffs," our would-be-wise leaders and 
 statesmen, all, indeed, except Socialists, seem not to have the 
 smallest inkling of it. They all look upon the factory legis- 
 lation across the ocean and here and the agitation for nation- 
 alization of the land and national control of the telegraphs as 
 isolated, rash expedients, and those who have adopted the 
 accepted theories forthwith condenm this legislation and a^i- 
 
104 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 t.'itioii and loudly proclaim that Socictj'- — is going astray ! 
 
 But the fact is, that our modern civilization maiidy consists 
 in this that the State — that is, Society in its organized form — 
 lias of late been constantly expanding its jtu-isdiction. and 
 has more and more contracted the sphere of individual own- 
 ership and control. Why, nearly everything the State now 
 manages for us, was once entrusted to private individuals. 
 
 Consider, criminal jurisprudence was once in private hands, 
 and was the first in time to be taken in charge by the State. 
 Tliere was a time when the customs and national finances were 
 farmed out to private persons, but that time is long passed by. 
 Then the State turned its attention to postal aftairs, and they 
 are now everj'where under national control. The world has 
 entii-ely forgotten that these affairs once were private enter- 
 prises, simply because the State has managed them so much 
 batter than was formally done. The whole struggle between 
 State and Church is also here in point; the principal conse- 
 quence of that struggle has been that nearly all civilized States 
 have taken charge of education, which undoubtedly will also 
 Aoon in our country be a matter of national concern. There 
 are still other matters, in which the older States of Europe in 
 this development are ahead of us : national control of railroads 
 and telegraphs. And in proposing that the State shall insure 
 workingmen against accidents and against want in their old 
 age, Bismark is virtually impelled by the same spirit, rather 
 than by any concern for the welfare of the working-classes. 
 
 This fact of *•• the centrallzition of Power in the National 
 Government," as it is called, is the central fact of Society 
 everywhere now. You may deny everything else, but you 
 caimot deny that. You caiuiot look at a democratic paper 
 without seeing a lament over the fact. The Democrats, though, 
 are giving undue credit to the Republlcaup, in charging it to 
 their account, for they were but humble instruments in the 
 hands of the laws of the Universe; if the Democrats should 
 come into power, they would have to be "" eentralizers '' to the 
 ^ame extent. The social organism has once for all got the 
 impetus in that direction, and the movement is gathering 
 greater momentum. That is why it is now everywhere iu the 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 105 
 
 air. That is why this ftict is the lr\ie rationale of Socialism. 
 
 The cry: "Beware, it is Socialistic!^'' will have absolutely 
 no eflect. The State will go on expanding its jurisdiction, hur- 
 ry on to its destiny, witliout asking or caring if it is '* SociaU 
 istic." The workingnien and gi'angers will continue to im- 
 portune the State to coine to their relief, without knowing 
 anything about Socialism. Henry George has written a book 
 that has enticed very many persons very far out on the road 
 to Socialism, protesting all the time that he is not a Socialist. 
 Frederic Harrison abominates Socialism, and yet preaclies 
 " Look to the State ! From that you can expect the highest 
 experience and skill, publicity, concentration of power, n-al 
 and efficient control, a national aim and sj)iiit and far more 
 trne responsibility." 
 
 I'>ut it is evident that the process of placing all industries 
 and all instruments of labor under collective control will be 
 carried on with far more energy and directness, when once 
 the true leaders learn that the State is not some power out- 
 side of the people, but that it is the social organism itself, and 
 that, as an organism, it is destined to grow until it cmbrnces all 
 social activities. Hitherto the State has acted from impulse, 
 in opposition to accepted theories. But a logical foundationol 
 some sort is necessary to all great movements. Rousseau's 
 theory of a'^Social Contract," though false, did in that way a 
 great service to Humanity. 
 
 The New Social Order to which we look forward is thus, 
 certainly, the ver}^ reverse of Utopian. As a historical prod- 
 uct from every point of view we consider it. it will be a natur- 
 al product, hence rational. ''Whatever is, is rational" 
 Hegel said ; that is, it necessarily conforms to the innermost 
 nature of things; and so: whatever is to be is rational. As 
 soon as the people learn not to be scared by the word '* So- 
 cialism;" as soon as they learn the true nature of the State 
 and see whither they are drifting, the Cooperative Common- 
 wealth will be , the only expedient system. But it certainly 
 was not expedient when L*lato wrote his Bepublic; it was not 
 expedient, but it icas a ''Utopia" in the times of Thomas 
 More; it was not expedient when St. Simon ''invented" bis 
 
106 ExrEDiExcr of 
 
 Bystem, for Private Enterprise with the steam engine and oth- 
 er Inventions had lirst to Increase tlie prodnctlve capacity of 
 man a thousand times, and thus to ])rcp:ire the way tor it. 
 And when it becomes expedient, it will be so for tlie tirst time 
 in human liistory. 
 
 When tlie Cooperative Commonwealth bocomes an accom- 
 plished fact we shall have the lull-grown Society; the normal 
 State. That commonwealth — whose citizens will, consciously 
 and avo vedly be public functionaries — will not know of a 
 particle of distinction between the terms '' State " and '* Soci- 
 ety ; " the two ideas will come to cover each other, will be- 
 come synonymous. It will be a social order that will endure 
 as long as Society itself, for no higher evolution is thinkable, 
 except Organized Humanity, and that is but Social-Coopei-a- 
 tlon extended to the whole human race. It will effect a com- 
 i:)lete regeneration of Society : in its economic, politic and 
 juridic relations; in the condition of wonea and in the edu- 
 cation of youth (ind?ed its chief concern, its true starting 
 point;) in morals and, we may add, in religion and philoso- 
 phy. The remainder of this treatise will draw in barest out- 
 line this normal State in th«'se various relations, in the order 
 above nam(id, for the economic features are the foundation of 
 every social system, out of which grow all the others, morals 
 and religion last ot all. It is, as we once observed, at the top : 
 in morals and philosoi)hy. that all changes from one Social 
 Order to another commence, fi-om whence they insinuate them- 
 selves down to the material conditions; there the change of 
 base takes place and the new superstructure is then gradually 
 built up. Therefore, also, we defined our system in econo- 
 mic terms alone. 
 
 If now Social-Cooperation is that to which we are certain- 
 ly drifting, it is undeniably the wiser course, instead of calling 
 it names, to inquire if not that which is ''socialistic" may 
 also be good, and to try to find out the ch.iracter of that New 
 Itcrjime. We shall therefore here suggest theuMst notable re- 
 spects in which its economic features are likely to promote the 
 soeial welfare. 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMftlON WEALTH. 107 
 
 It must be evident to every fair-miiideLl man tluit this New 
 Order — where every worker will be reiiianerated according to 
 results — is in no sense communistic. Socialism and Coniniun- 
 ism are. in foct, two radically different systems; and yet they 
 are constantly confounded, even by well-infTrmed people. 
 We wish W3 could in a serious work like this entirely ignore 
 the vulgar conception of Communism: that it pro[)Oses '-to 
 divide all property intD eipial parts," but when a man like 
 Prof. Fawcett of England gives currency to this vulgarism in 
 ihese very words and tlien proceeds to lecture us, saying: 
 *• if the State divided all lands among the inhabitants, there 
 would gradually arise the sasne iaequ.ility of wealth which 
 exists now," we must notice it sufficiently to say that now-a- 
 days no one outside of a lunatic asylum proposes any such 
 thing, and that Prof. Fawcett ought to know it. 
 
 The Oommunis.n we refer to is that practised by the Shakers 
 and similar bodies, bound together by some form of religious 
 belief or unbelief. Their peculiar meth od of giving practical 
 effect to their doctrines is different from om-«; w^e believe that 
 to retire from the world, as they do, is a poor way of reform- 
 ing the world; we believe it is with refor-nsrs as with yeast: 
 it must be mixed witiithe dough to act upon it ; if kept to itself, 
 it spoils. But then- principles— in wliicli they agree Avith po- 
 litical communists — are diametrically opposed t > ours. Com- 
 munists make nil property common propert3% while our Com- 
 monwealth will place only the iastniments of production — land, 
 machinery, raw-materials &c. — under collective control. They 
 require every one to do his share of labor, and allow him to 
 consume as he needs. Our Comuionwealth leaves everybody 
 at perfect liberty to work as much or as little as he pleases, 
 or not at all, but makes his consumption ex.ictly commensur- 
 ate with his performances. Adam Smith observed that "the pro- 
 duce of labor is the natural recompense of Labor" and St. Paid 
 laid it down : '• whoever does not work, neither shall he eat " 
 and the New System — as our definition points out — will put 
 these doctrines into practice. 
 
 In short, the motto of Socialism is : •' Everj^body accord- 
 ing tD his deeds] " that of Communism is: "Everybody ac« 
 
108 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 cordino; to his needs.'''' The communist motto is undoubtedly 
 a very generous one, more generous than ours ; but our motto 
 is more just, tulviiig human nature as it is, — and the fact that So- 
 cialists take huni;in nature as it is, is just their merit. In- 
 deed, if we define Capitalism as the fleecing of the weak by 
 tlie strong. Communism might be said to be a fleecing of the 
 strong by the weak, an observation already made bj^ Proud- 
 hon ; tliougli the '^ strong " under our system simply means 
 those buoyed up to the top, while under the latter system 
 tliey would mean the truly, physically or intellectually, strong. 
 
 Communism must therefore plead guilty to the charges : 
 first, that it means to abolish the institution of property and, 
 next, that it must result i;i crushing out all ii)dividualit3\ 
 Socialism not only will do neither of these things but the 
 very reverse. I nstead of t aking property away from everybody, 
 it loill enable ever;/bodf/ to acquire property. It will truly sanc- 
 tify the institution of individual ownership by placing prop- 
 erty on an unimpeachable basis: that of being ?Ae reswZ^ o/ 
 o»e's individual exertions. Thereby it will afford the very 
 mightiest stimulus for individuality to unfold itself. Proper- 
 ty will belong to its possessor by the strongest of all titles, 
 to be enjoyed as he thinks proper, hut not to be used as an in- 
 strument of fleecing his fellow-citizens. 
 
 Next let us pass in review one of the chief industries after 
 ^rlOther and note the most obvious advantagf^s that will flow 
 from Social Cooperation. But especially here will our motto 
 apply: that " our purpose is not to make people read but to 
 make them think.*' For the experience of our readers will 
 naturally supply them with innumerable other cases in point; 
 
 Take, first, manufactures. 
 
 Suppose then* are at present in a given city a hundred blacli- 
 smiths, who together emploj' four hundred men. The hundred 
 bosses spend necessarilj'- a great deal of their time in seeking 
 jobs. In this pursuit they are constantly thwarting each oth- 
 er's purposes, and trying to beat each other. When in theii 
 sh()i>s, they liave directions to give, estimates to pi-epare, let- 
 ters to write and bills to make out. They all perform a labor- 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH 109 
 
 ious and necessary work, and yet the productive result of tlieii 
 work isvorj- insignificant. 
 
 Again, tlicse liundred employers have a hundred diiferent 
 shops, a hundred different fire-places, which take up very 
 much space and use up very much fuel. The money spent 
 in renting these shops, in constructing these fireplaces 
 and bellows and for the fuel which is thus wasted, would 
 be suflicient to build a most magnificent cooperative factory 
 in which these bosses and wage-workers might, as co- 
 operative workers, find steady and remunerative employment. 
 
 Again, in these hundred shops there are a number of tools 
 and machines that might be reduced immensely, if these five 
 hundred blacksmiths worked in common; while, on the oth- 
 er hand, a good many machines and implements could be in- 
 troduced into such a co-operative factory which at present 
 even the richest of those employers is not able, or at least not 
 willing to procure, because even his business is not large 
 enough to warrant the outlay. 
 
 Add to this that very seldom a man is a good artisan and a 
 good man of business, and it will be evident from this exam- 
 ple, that if all manufacturing enterprises were concentrated 
 to the same extent that we might imagine this smithing busi- 
 ness concentrated, the dispensing with much useless, and there- 
 fore unproductive work, the reduction in operative expenses 
 and especially the most fruitful division of Labor which could 
 be inaugurated would immensely enrich Society. Every largo 
 factoiy which arises on the ruia of the shops of the small ar- 
 tisans we consider an advance in civilization, simply because 
 the more production is being organized on a large scale, the 
 easier it will be f jr tiie associated workers, by the authority 
 of the Cooperative Commonwealth, to take charge of it. and 
 secure to themselves the utmost benefit of inventions, ma- 
 chinery and division of employments. 
 
 Further: At present our hundred bosses are frequently 
 in financial embarrassment; but few of them accumulate » 
 competence for their old age; many succumb to competitiou 
 and crises, while their workmen are nothing but wage-slaves, 
 having violent periods of overwork, followed by long and ter- 
 
1 10 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 ribie stagnation. The working in concert under the Cooper- 
 ative Cotiimonwealtli will reduce all risk, all crises, all pro- 
 duction beyond the effective demand, to a minimum. 
 
 Peter and Paul run risks, because the cannibals Jolui and 
 James stand ready to eat them up at a given opportunity. But 
 the whole prodnctioii of a country in any given branch need 
 run hardl}^ any risk at all. Do away with tlie secrecy which 
 now obtains in our manufacturing establishments, shut up 
 those gambling shoi^s : the stock and produce-exchanges; let 
 scientitic statistics be taken of the demand and supply in all 
 parts of the country, and elsewhere if practicable; in other 
 words : introduce systematic work instead of planless work, and 
 crises and "'overproduction" will be next to impossible. What- 
 ever losses may occur from inaccuracies in statistics or una- 
 voiiable mishaps will be almost inappreciable, being borne 
 by the whole cciuitry. Thus, our Commonwealth will be 
 what a Commonwealth ought to be: die General Insurance 
 Company ; but of that more hereafter. 
 
 The advajitages of the Commonwealth being the sole Mer- 
 chant are evid Mit : they will be all that our grangers and vol- 
 untary cooperationists are in the habit of expecting from their 
 schemes and not include one of the disadvantages, which, in 
 a previous chapter, we saw necessarily resulting from these. 
 U)ider our Connnon wealth the small shopkeepers, pedlers. 
 commission-mtn'chaiits and all of that sort will disappear. 
 !No more need for bribing newspapers for puffs; no longer 
 any temptation to use lying labels or sell adulterated gooda. 
 A bale ot coito.i will not as ii(nv have to be sold ten times 
 over to get from the producer into the hands of thecon>umer; 
 nor will the people of Philadelphia be bled to the extent of 
 $G.r)0 for a ton of coal which only costs, all expenses and out- 
 lays included, .^1. 50 at the mouth of the mine. Nevermore 
 shall we liud twenty drugstores in a little town that only needs 
 one. 
 
 No. indeed! In place of that we slf.all have great perma- 
 nent ba/aars. embracing all ])ossible articles of consumption, 
 of vvhicli stoi-es like that of Jordan Marsh <& Co., ia IJos- 
 ton, or still better the one, oitce mentioned, in Philadelphia are 
 
THE COOPERATIVE CO^iIMOXWE \T/ni. Ill 
 
 only insignificant miniature models — but thanks to tiieir chiefs 
 for furnishing us tliose models ! 
 
 Tlie salesmen and saleswomen in those bazaars will be quite 
 dilferent beings from those of the present day, who are 
 vt ry often slaves from morning till late at niglit. They will, 
 like all other citizens, be independent human beings, with 
 plenty of leisure at their command. 
 
 The greatest gain to Society, however, in taking eontrol of 
 commerce, will perhaps be found in the suppression of that 
 talent, so peculiar to our Plutocrats and seemingly acquired 
 by them with their mother's milk: thefai-ulty of speculation; 
 a talent which contributes nothing to production, but whose 
 only end and aim is the transfer of wealth from one pocket 
 into another. Xearly all workers are devoid of that talent. 
 The -New Kegime will, like the Man of the New Testament, 
 lash the howling lunatics, the brokers and cornerers, out of 
 our stock-and other exchanges, which will be devoted to no- 
 bler uses; for Cooperation and Speculation are strangers. 
 
 '• Trade " — as far as it means the buying and selling ot goods 
 for tlie sake of profit — will at home be changed into distribu- 
 tion of the produce of labor among the workers, and as to for- 
 eign countries into genuine commerce i. e. the exchange of 
 .such home-products we do not need for such foreign products 
 we may need. 
 
 These changes in manufactures and Commerce will naturally 
 affect Transportation in a remarkable degree. While now our 
 mails, railroads, ships and wagons do business for innumer- 
 able priv'ate concerns, in the New Commonwealth they will do 
 business for o»e.onl}^ NV^iat a colossal concentratiork and sim- 
 plitication of Transportation does that, in itself, imply ! Bear 
 in mind simply the mass of drays and wagons of every sort, 
 M hich now in every one of our populous cities choke up our 
 streets and distract most peoj^le's nerves ! Think of the amount 
 of human and animal labor now absolutely wasted in this 
 way I It might, indeed, be dillicult for those now living to 
 recognize the aspect of our cities, to be brought about by this 
 Binqjlitication. alone, under the new order of things. Eveu 
 New York may thereby become a clean city. 
 
112 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 Transportation itself, of course, will betaken under coll'ict* 
 ive control, and thus the radical wrong undone of granting 
 public concessions to individuals for the express purpose of 
 making our highway's subseivient to private interests. For 
 what are now our railway corporations but a clique of persons 
 empowered by law to use these highways, in the first place, for 
 their 010)1 beuejit, and only incidentally for the public conven- 
 ience? 
 
 It is just as easy to demonstrate the vast superiority of so- 
 cial-cooperative farming over the present style. 
 
 The prevailing isolated mode of Agriculture wastes an im- 
 mense amount of human and animal labor, of time and of ma- 
 terials. >Yhat an economy would there not be in having one 
 large stable, one large yard, one large bam, in the place of 
 one hundred stables, yards and barns? Any one can esti- 
 mate for himself what an enormous sum of money could 
 be saved in one single item, when he learns that the fences 
 of Indiana alone, if extended in a single line, would go 
 around the globe nearly 14 times, and cost no less than 8200,- 
 000.000. How many wagons and horses will not be rendered 
 supertinous, when the Cooperative Commonwealth takes 
 charge of Agriculture? Ilow many persons will not be made 
 available for manufacturing and other product ive pursuits? 
 And as to time, these words of Professor Fawcett are sugges- 
 tive : '' It has been calculated, that a steam-cultivator would 
 plough a square tield of ten acres in half the time, occupied 
 in plonghing two fields of five acres each, and with two-thirdi 
 the expense." 
 
 But why waste any words in abstract demonstration? Do 
 not our •• bonanza farms " teach us practically the lesson ? And 
 will not the hundreds of •' bonanza farms" of the near future, 
 eventually knock the lesson even into the heads of our coun- 
 try-cousins? Do they not already practicall}'' demonstrate, 
 that tliere are a Imndred things requisite for thorough f;nnj- 
 ing. that only can be had by cultivation on a grand scale? 
 l>o not the '' creameiies" thnt everywhere are springing up 
 show that butter and cheese can be made nuich better and 
 more cheaply in one dairy than on a hundred farms? 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 113 
 
 Our fanners cannot help finding out by and by, that social- 
 cooperative faiming will prove to tliem an immense benefit, 
 simply in iiji)iancial point of view. 
 
 It is certainly easy to comprehend that association, in Mill's 
 words, •• is the most powerful agent of production " — few 
 words ought to sufiice to prove that. It ought, indeed, to be 
 easy to see, that tiocial Cooperation will increase the total pro- 
 duction of our country at least as much beyond the capability 
 of the present system as the latter surpasses that of the Mid- 
 dle Ages in proportion to population. This it will do by add- 
 ing, simply. Concert; by inoculating into the Social Organism 
 that central regulative system which Spencer finds in all oth- 
 er high organisms, but of which he apparently sees no need 
 in the Social Organism, the highest of all. For this Concert, 
 this Regulative Sj^stera, will reduce immensly all operative 
 expenses, in Ma'iutactures, in Exchange, in Transportation, 
 in Agriculture:, it will prevent waste; it will do away with 
 nearly all risk ; and, lastly, it will permit, the most advantage- 
 ous Division of Labor. 
 
 He is said to be one of the greatest benefactors of mankind 
 who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before. 
 What then is to be said of the men who are determined to de- 
 velop societ3% as quickly as possible, up to the adoptio.i of a 
 system of production, demanded by the conditions of the age, 
 and which will increase, to an unprecedented degree, the net 
 results of all onv industries, and evidently lead to innumera- 
 ble ttchnical improvements in all their branches? 
 
 This fructification of Labor, will on the first view readily 
 make Social Cooperation appear highly desirable. lUit the 
 objection, that this increase of the means of subsistence and 
 enjoyment really means a far greater "* overproduction" than 
 lias 3'et confronted us, lies very near. It is precisely the prin- 
 eipal excellence of the Cooperative Commonvv^ealth that it will 
 cio'dtc an effective demsiud for even the greatest imaginable 
 production. 
 
 \V^e said in the preceding chapter that the full-grown State 
 will help every one of its citizens to help himself. That, first 
 
114 ' ; EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 ' - > 
 
 of rtH, means th.at it will furnish emplo3'ment. producttte era- 
 . ployment^ aud, siicli employment as the3\ respectively, may 
 be best fitted for to all citizens; thus enablin*^ them to pay 
 " "for 'ahythijjg t)iey. nii<iy want or wish for — which is what is 
 mfeinit by *; effective •' demand. 
 !xiftef what we alread\'^ have remarked in re<2rard to " natural 
 ^^ righcs," it cannot; be supposed that we lay an}' stress on tlie 
 * socalled natural ',' rii^ht to T.abor." And j^et more can be said 
 '• in favor of that plaim than for any other " natural right." Of 
 , ! '■ course " right to labor " is a very inapt phrase ; nobody real- 
 ;,.,/ ly complains of jiot being sufHciently burdened with toil, liut 
 / all know well enough that it is meant to assert a claim to a 
 i ;<■.'' decent livelihood, to be gained by profitable T.abor. Now, if 
 i'/'.. , , it be once admitted, what even Herbert Spencer affirms, that 
 i\i :|. ;(an(l tS'^he common heritage of all, then there is very griat 
 r^ . force in' llV'e;ttvgum('nt of such philosophers as Fichte and Con- 
 \: ,^ I sidferiint that '? those wiio are not proprietors of land must, as 
 |,i;i a compensat'on for the common property which they have lost^ be 
 
 \. ' guaranteeed the right to labor." And communities have, as 
 ^^"^^ a matter of fact, recognized the force of that claim. Tlie 
 Poor-law of England is a recognition of it. And, though it 
 seems unknown to even professional lawyers, a Pennsylvania 
 Statute provides as follows : '"If such poor person be able to 
 work, but cannot find employment, it shall be the duty of the 
 overseers to provide work for him according to his ability, and 
 f(»r this i)urpose they shall procure suitable places and a suit- 
 able stock of materials." 
 
 But it should be distinctly understood that we do not think 
 the Coming Commonwealth will base its action on this ground, 
 but on quite another. 
 
 Malthus says bluntly, in his ''Essay on Population," that tho 
 man born into the world whose family cannot support him rnd 
 whose labor is not in demand must take himself away. ' I'or 
 him there is no cover laid at nature's table." 
 
 Now we alfii'm that in our Connnon wealth there icill b( a de- 
 mand for the labor of evenj citizen. Tliis is a proposition that 
 every one on a little refiection will assent to. 
 Mark ! we speak of productive labor, and mean thereby labor 
 
THE COOPEIiATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 115 
 
 that creates anything which men desire. Tliis desire is abso- 
 hitely unlimited. Tlie desire for certain staple articles of food 
 03* for this or that manufactured article or for a given means 
 of enjoyment may be limited, but tin; desire for the products 
 of human laoor and skill in general, physical, artistic or in*"*;]- 
 lectual — never. 
 
 The desire for — that is, the power of — consumption in the body 
 of the citizens is thus boundless. And they will have the means 
 to pay for all there is to consume. Under the New Order all 
 will be productive Avoikers ; they will be paid an equivalent tor 
 what they produce — not merely one half of it as nov/ under 
 the wage-system — in some foi-iu. Consequently their jmr- 
 chasing power will in all cases balance the total production. 
 
 There is a demand for the labor of every man under any 
 well-ordered Social l^ystem. If thci-e is a waste of men now, 
 it is the fault of the Wage-System. A slave was actually 
 worth what he would fetch, and there were very few slaves 
 who would fetch nothing. Why, in a free Commonwealth, 
 should men be of less account? Cattle are valuable . why not 
 men? Carlyle remarks :.'' a white European man, standing 
 on his two legs, with his tw^o five-lingered hands at bis shack- 
 le bones and miraculous head on his shoulders, is worth, I 
 should sa3% from 50 to 100 horses." 
 
 Dy giving all the idle employment; by putting all our para- 
 sites and superlluous workers where thej^ can work product- 
 ively, the Commonwealth will create the needed efiective de- 
 mand, and more than that : The stock of the good tl.higs of 
 tliis life vyill thereby he very much cnZar^e(Z,perliaps doubled. 
 
 But do not believe, that when we say that the State will 
 furnish all i)rolitable enq}lo3'ment. that we mean that every 
 one will have to do manual labor. Labor undoubtedl}'- will 
 then come to honor; work will then be a beneficent law, and 
 not an oppressive rule as now, but brain-work will have its 
 due weight: the New Commonwealth will not be u state of 
 mechanics. In all States that at present pretend to give its 
 citizens educational facilities, it seems to be entirely overlooked 
 that education and aspiration go hand in hand. Our coun- 
 try, i 1 particular, whicii gives such of oiu- young men and 
 
\\ 
 
 116 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 women who can afford to improve themselves free access to 
 hig'h-schools, colleges and uuiversities. afterwards leaves them 
 to scramble for a precarious existence, for which their very 
 education has nnlitted them; 3'et an educated pauper is the 
 most pitiable subject of all. Our Commouwealth, on the oth- 
 er hand, will nourish the aspirations it has awakened ; it will 
 use for its own good the talents it has matured and enable ev- 
 ery man and woman to develop his or her peculiar aptitudes, 
 ^vhether it be in brain-work or hand-work. This fact, that 
 every citizen will be able to follow his or her peculiar bent, 
 will also itself vastly increase the productive result of all so- 
 cial activities, for it is well-known that a person accomplishes 
 most when he woi-ks in the line of his greatest inclination. 
 
 We may note here that the enlargement of the purchasing 
 l)ower of the masses \vill also contribute considerably to in- 
 crease the wealth of Society by materially changing the char- 
 acter of the demand from what it is at present. That is to sa}': 
 articles of use and bcautj' will more and more crowd out the 
 costl}^ goods, wliieh at present are principally in demand be- 
 cause, and only because, they are costly and by that quality 
 enable our money-aristocracy to display their wealth. 
 
 It has been computed that if everybody now woi'ked at 
 some useful calling, everybody could live in comfort on four 
 hours' daily labor. There is som<', good reason for believing 
 that this computation is not so very far from being correct. 
 But who can doubt that in the Coming Commonwealth, with 
 all objects of desire thus increased, the hours of Labor could 
 be very much reduced, and yet everybody, willing to work 
 have everything that heart could wish? 
 
 Why should anybody then object to being restrained from 
 working more than six or four hours a day? That very many 
 workingmen should object to such a check on their liberty noiu^ 
 when they often are reduced to absolute want by seasons of 
 enforced idleness, is natural enough and may be noted as the 
 inniiovable stumbling-block in the way of those who agitate 
 for a compulsory eight-hour law under the present system. 
 
 In our (Jomraonwealth all men and women can be endowed 
 with that supreme good — Leisure^ the mother of Culture. Ob- 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 117 
 
 serve, there is the gi eate-t difference in the worhl between 
 Leisure and Idleness. The idler, whether poor or rich, lias no 
 leisure, for it means the deli<i;htful liours reserved from some 
 regular employment, of not too long duration, and which se- 
 cures the satisfaction of all material wants. 
 
 Under the New Regime --Cliarity " and '• charitable institu- 
 tions" will be tilings of the past. By-the-way, is it not a 
 pity that the noble word : •' Charity " has in this hypocritical 
 era come to mean — alma-giving 9 In our Commonwealth no 
 alms will be given ; hulcod^ notJiiiig lo ill be had gratis. Every- 
 body will get the full produce of his labor in direct revenues 
 or in public benefit. Every citizen wiii he entitled to the use 
 of all public institutions: be it of libraries, of schools for his 
 children, of hospitals, asylmns, or assistance in his old age, 
 on the same principle as the insured is entitled to the amount 
 flamed in his policy, on the happening of a certain event. 
 This snakes it clear how our Commonwealth is to be the Gen- 
 eral Insurer; and our various companies that insure against 
 so many forms of risk point out the right road to pursue. They, 
 indeed, embody whatever of corporate resi^onsibility there is 
 left in this chaotic age. 
 
 We should therefore say that the Cooperative Commonwealth '\ 
 will be highly promotive of social welfare by securing to all 
 its citizens abundance; by lurnishing them leism-e; and by ' 
 enabling them to follow tlieir natural bent. Work will no 
 longer be a tribute to physical necessii y but a glad performance ' 
 of social office. It will for the first time in human history es- 
 tablish harmoii}- between personal Egoism and the Public 
 Welfare, by, simply, distributing the forces of the social or- 
 ganism in accordance with its real needs. 
 
 We make a distinction between the soil of cities and towns 
 and agricultural lands, 'fhe former will have to be taken un- 
 der collective control simultaneously with other Capital, while 
 the nationalization of the latter, in a country like ours espec- 
 ially, may be postponed for years. That this change will prove 
 highly beneficial to our city population is not difficult to see. 
 
 The greater a city is, the worse are the '' homes "' — as they 
 
118 EXPEDIEXCY OF 
 
 are still by courtesy called — of the masses that inhabit it, main- 
 ly because the ruliii*^ chiss, the moneyed aristocracy, becomes 
 tlie more exclusive. There was a time when this aristocracy* 
 formed one class with the masses : called in England the*- Com- 
 mons," in France the •• Third Estate " For a long time alter 
 the settlement ol our country we had only this o?ie class. As 
 long as this state of things continued, the chiefs of indnstry 
 and commerce lived over their shops, near their oliices among 
 tlieir people. Now thoy have deserted their ])Osts of social 
 duty. They live in separate districts, in the suburbs and only 
 come into town to spend a few hours in their places ot busi- 
 ness on week-days. This modern fashionable siiburbanism 
 and exclusiveness is a real grievance of the working-classes. 
 Had the rich men continued to live among the masses, they 
 would with their wealth and intluei.ce have made our large 
 towns pleasant places to live in. especially as they are almost 
 the exclusive owners of the ground and buildings. 
 
 It is evident that when the Comnumity assumes the owner- 
 ship, all kinds of improvements can and will be carried on in 
 a far grander and more systematic manner than now when 
 many a measure, imperatively demanded even by the Public 
 Good, is met and often checked by some opposing private in- 
 terest. Then the many uiisightly vacant lots in the veiy heart 
 of cities will disappear. Then, and only then, we c.-ui hope 
 for the introduction of such sanitary measures, both indwell- 
 i.igs anil factories, as the present development of Puolic Hy- 
 giene reconnnends and as the aggregation of workers imper- 
 ativi'ly demands. Compare now the j)ublic institutions in any 
 city: scliools, asjdums or even jails with the factories found 
 in the same place and note the dilfci'ence in the workings of 
 cor])orate responsibility, im the oiic hand, and private greed 
 ar 1 i.ulilference, on the other. Every comnumity owning the 
 soil on which it lives, can be made responsible for the deatli 
 of nearly every person who may fall a victim to the "^'eilow 
 Fever or any other epidemic. For all the conditions of epi- 
 demic diseases, like foul air, stagnant pools, allej'-s lilled with 
 garbage, can be brought wholly within the control of an eu- 
 
THE COOrEKATlVE COMMONWEALTH. 119 
 
 crgetic administration, as General Butler conclusively proved 
 in Xew Orleans. 
 
 But this subject leads up to another problem. The present 
 relation of city to country is an abnormal one. Every civilized 
 country, witli its overgrown cities may fairly be compared to 
 a man whose belly is steadily increasing in bulk, out of all 
 proportion to the body, and whose legs are constantly growing 
 thinner. This evolution is as yet perfectly legitimate. Our 
 large cities and towns are the necessary fruits of our indus- 
 trial system, and are destined to become the needed and in- 
 evitable centres for the coming changes; in their hands will 
 chiefly lie the threads of destiny. But then their purpose will 
 have been fultilled. Then the evolution will necessarily have 
 to go back in the contrary direction : population will have to 
 take its march back into the country. It will become a 
 life-problem. 
 
 Why do the sons of farmers now flock into our cities ? Because 
 their fathers and especially mothers lead a life of drudgery and 
 privation that no mechanic in tlie city would wish to undergo; 
 because they want to get rid of the prosy, stunting, isolated, 
 barbarian life on a farm. The working masses stay in our 
 overcrowded cities because such a farm-life has no attractions 
 for them. They are not going to leave the cities before they 
 can carry with them the civilization in which they have been 
 reared ; and well it is that they cannot be made to do it. Only 
 our Commonwealth and collective control of all land can bring 
 the pleasures and comforts of city life, the blessings of our 
 civilization, into the country. This consideration, beside the 
 lina;icial one we already have suggested, may in time make 
 our farmers see the beauties of Socialism. 
 
 But the nationalization of the land and Social-cooperative 
 farming will not prove beneticial merely to the agricultural 
 class and our surplus city-popuhition. but also preeminently 
 to Society at large. It may. indeed, in a short time, be im- 
 pcralivo on Society to adopt it. 
 
 Our present mode of farming impoverishes the soil; '* bon- 
 atr/a " — farming does so lo a still greater extent. Every bush- 
 el of wheal sent to oui* large cities or abroad, robs the soil of 
 
120 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 a certain amount of nutriment. A nd next to nothin<^. —in fact, 
 on the bonanza-farms nothing at all, — is done to reimburse 
 the soil for that loss. The object of the bonanza-farmers is 
 simply to plunder the soil as much as possible in order to lill 
 their own pockets. When it becomes no longer pi-otitable to 
 work the lands with even the most extensive machinery, they 
 will be left mere deserts. 
 
 Manure is just as requisite for the soil as food is for a hu- 
 man being. Our large cities, constantly growing, are the es- 
 pecial consumers of the substance of the soil, without return- 
 ing to it tl»eir refuse : this manure which is so all important to 
 it. Evidently the result must be that our agricultural produc- 
 tion will be paralyzed, if an end be not put to this system of 
 plunder. 
 
 Nothing but Social Cooperation will put an end to it. Only 
 that can inf^titute a wise system of gathering and of distributing 
 this invaluable refuse of men and animals. This is evidently 
 a matter in which Society at large is vitally interested. Anxl 
 there are other measures, that only yield in importance to this 
 matter of manure, which only Social Cooperation will know 
 how to deal with properly; as a comprehensive sj'?tem of 
 drainage, without which land cannot be cultivated to its high- 
 est degree; and the preservation and calture of our forests, 
 which even in our days call loudly for the interposition of 
 niitional authority. 
 
 lIowever,volumes would be requisite to give an adequate 
 conception of all the benelits to be conferred by the Coope- 
 rative Commonwealth in detail, for as has been truly observed 
 by the reputable German Political Econ<> mist, Prof Schaetiie i 
 '• it requires years to think one -self into it^ 
 
 But all this will not satisfy people who pride themselves on 
 being practical. '•'Practical people are people whose knowl- 
 edge is limited to wliat is going on under their eyes "' — this is 
 Buckle's defmition, not ours. These nearsighted gentlemen will 
 gay: ''YourConnnonwealth maybe everso much in harmony 
 with the conditions of this age; it may be able to create ever 
 so great an abundance and even to furnii>h the most efl'cctive 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMOXWEALin. 121 
 
 demand for it ; it may be able to establish the most perfect 
 social adjustment; yet it is impracticahle\ it cannot be made 
 to work for many reasons." 
 
 . Xow, we are not here concerned about how to institute that 
 New Order. — when the time is ready, when we reach that bi'iiik, 
 a bridge will grow before our way, somehow — but it may be 
 worth our wdiile to notice some of these reasons. 
 
 ••'It is a stupendous scheme ! That is enough to make it im- 
 practicable. It is an insane idea to proi)ose to make lifty or 
 a iiundrod million people w^ork in concert." 
 
 Yes, the Pliilisf ines of the Middle Ages, likewise, undoubted- 
 ly whuld have scorned, as insane, the idea, tliat a city like 
 London could possibly be provided with the necessaries of 
 life under any sj^stem oi free competition. And now, when it 
 is daily done, our modern Philistines consider the fact as an 
 evidence ot **the beautiful harmony between private interests 
 and public necessities." Yet it is a far greater wonder, that 
 we get along under the present system as well as we tlo. than 
 that our Commonwealth should work without the least fric- 
 tion. We have, indeed, every reason to expect, tliatil will be 
 a Social Order, as regular and unobtrusive as if it were a Law 
 of Xature. 
 
 '' But how are you going to nationalize the land? How would 
 }'ou go to work to bring these immmerable private enterprises 
 under collective control? Even Herbert Spencer. who, liko you, 
 condemns private ownership in land — in that very Social St/i- 
 tics that you criticized — sees no means of overcoming the difii- 
 culties in the way of making land collective property." 
 . It would be easy enough. Suppose our national constitu- 
 tion were tomorrow amended to this effect : 
 
 ••'All titles in fee in private persons to any Real Estate are 
 hereby abolished; all such titles shall henceforth vest in tlie 
 United States, exclusively." 
 
 What then? Not anything like the overturning of existing 
 relations wiiich followed the abolition of slavery would be 
 caused by such an amendment. Not a single person Avouid n ?ed 
 to be ousted from the premises he uses, still less from tlie dwell- 
 ing he inhabits. The tenants of private parties would simply 
 
122 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 be turned into tonants of tlie Nation; the payments of the 
 present proprietors to the community would be changed from 
 '•Taxes" into '-Rents." 
 
 Undoubtedly in other respects tlie change would be tremen- 
 dous. Tlie occupants of lands and bnildings could no longer 
 sell them, no longer mortgage them, no longer rent them. 
 Land as Capital and as source of Capital would evaporate into 
 tiiin air like mist before tije morning sun, but would remain 
 as Social Wealth. It would lose its specuhitive, unreal value, 
 but would retain its intrinsic, real value. Then an "• enterpris- 
 ing" individual could no longer one day acquire a piece of land 
 for twenty five cents an acre, and, without spending a day's 
 work or one dollar for improvements on it, ten years thence 
 dispose of it for ten or a liundred dollars an acre; this way of 
 fleecing the community would be stopped. In short, Land 
 held for speculative purposes would be dropped like a hot po- 
 tato, to be sure, but occupants in good faith could use it pre- 
 cisely as they do now. The difiiculties of such a measure 
 would be reduced to absolutely nothing, if the amendment 
 proposed, instead of taking effect at once, were made opera- 
 tive, say. twenty five years from the date of its adoption ; for 
 then values and relations would have ample time to settle them- 
 selves. 
 
 This is Henry George's " I?emedy." Now, from the very 
 moment when we read the title-page of George's book we did 
 not think well of his being ready with a remedij at all. This 
 fact shows that he considers Society sick and thinks it must 
 have some medicine. Afterwards he seems to recoil from the 
 drastic opei'ation of his medicine, the confiscation of land — 
 it might shock the i)reconceived notions of people — and pro- 
 poses, instead of that heroic treatment, the confiscation of rent. 
 
 We admit that either of these two remedies would have two 
 results, highly bcnelicial in themselves : the revenues of the 
 community from land would be largely increased, and the vast 
 gums, now squaiulcrcd as ])ureliase-m()ney and rents for pure- 
 ly liftitious values, would be saved. 
 
 I3ut after having shown our men-in-spectacles that it would 
 be easy enongli to iiationalize the land, we must emphasize 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 123 
 
 that to do so would be, especially in our country and in Ger- 
 many and France, commencing from the wrong end. Society is 
 ijot sick ; but Society may be said to be sufiering the pangs of 
 child-birth. Now, to assist her deliverance by toucl;ing- agri- 
 cultural lands with the Socialist wand would be as inexpedi- 
 ent as to help a woman in travail by forcing the feet of the 
 infant out first, and inexpedient everywhere— qyqw in Great Brit- 
 tain where only a comparatively few owners would have to be 
 expropriated — for the simple reason that the evolution in agri- 
 culture is everywhere far behind the evolution in all other 
 industries. This objection, of course, would not apply lo land 
 used for manufacturing and mining purposes or to that of 
 towns and cities, as we already have lemarked. But the na- 
 tionalization of such land should not be considered as a meas- 
 ure by itself, but as an adjunct to tlie taking our Manufac- 
 tures, Distribution of products and Transportation under col- 
 lective control. 
 
 What practical difficulties would there be in the way of do- 
 ing that? 
 
 Why ! If our " statesmen " were less blind to the Logic of 
 Events, which is pushing us with railroad-speed toward a to- 
 tal and abrupt revolution, they might from to-morrow bring it 
 about gradually and peaceably l»y a series of measures, each 
 consistentl}^ developing itself out of the previous ones. They 
 might begin from the two poles of Society at once. 
 
 See how ! It is now proposed to take the Telegraph-system 
 of our country under government control and incorporate it 
 in our Postofflce-department. The latter is already essential- 
 ly a Socialist institution, though to make it such fully, will 
 require some important changes that we shall refer to in the 
 loUowing chapter. Suppose this measure realized as it is sure 
 to be sometime. Then do likewise with our Iiailroads. our 
 Express-bu:^iness and thus onward : absorb one great enter- 
 prise after another, as quickly as practicable. 
 
 And so from the other pole. We now speak of those inter- 
 ests which so vitally affect the inhabitants of dilTei-ent com- 
 munities, but which are confined to them. Why could not 
 our cities commence by f uriiishing to their citizens fuel in 
 
124 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 winter and ice in summer? Are not these things just as essen- 
 tial to the Public Health as water? After that let them furnisU 
 all the milk needed. Then let them take under their control 
 and operate their gas-works and horse-railwaj\s; ihcii- baker- 
 ies and drugstores. Yes, and let them take charge of the liquor- 
 traffic, so that the number of saloons may be restricted to the 
 wants of their respective populations and be conducted as tiie 
 beer-selling cooperative stores of England— not the least l^en- 
 eficial of her many cooperative establishments — are conducted. 
 
 Now please observe, we do not say, — or even think — that the 
 social question will be solved in that manner, but that it seems 
 to us the most practical way in which to solve it for ''practi- 
 cal" people. And mark further! that to carry out one or a 
 few of these measures (as the nationalization of Land, or col- 
 lective control of the Telegraph system, or communal 
 control of the coal-business) and theti stop there, will not 
 solve the question at all. These measures, standing alone, will 
 be almost worthless to the working-classes. They will ben- 
 etit the small number cmplo.yed in tliese enterprises; they 
 may beneht all by the resulting public improvements, but they 
 will not help the great body of the workers in any material 
 respect, for to the same extent, tiiat the price of their neces- 
 saries of life and rents may fall, their wages are sure to come 
 down. That is the linal answer to George's proposition. Even 
 if he could possibly persuade the Social organism by his in- 
 siiuiating periods to swallow his medicine, she woidd not be 
 a bit less restless than before. That child, the New Social Or- 
 der, is going to be born. 
 
 •^ Dut whence will your Commonwealth take the money to 
 indemnify the present owners?" 
 
 Oh ! that matter of compensation will not worry us so very 
 mu<;h. Socialists, indeed, claim, that it Is Society, to whom 
 oiu" Plutocrats owe all their wealth, and that, therefore. So- 
 ciety has the right at any moment to take it back liesides— 
 a fact to whidi we already have once called attention — Society 
 has 7iever yet compensated the laboring class:'S when their in- 
 terests have been sacriliced to the gain of their fellow-citizens 
 and posterity, as they have repeatedly been during this ceis- 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMaiOXWEALTH. 125 
 
 tury by the iiitrodactioii ot new machinery and the adoption 
 of new inventions. But they are, also, ready to admit, that, 
 if our Plutocrats are willing peaceably to give up their posses- 
 sions to the Commonwealth, they ought to be fairly compen- 
 sated, on the sole ground that these possessions were acquired 
 by the sanction of Society. But what of that? 
 
 All tlie wealth of the country in the j^ear 1880 is estimated 
 at ^40, 000,000, 000. Much of that is composed of speculative, nn- 
 real, values. All that Socialists wish to expropriate, is only 
 the most important instruments of production, a fractional 
 part of that wealth. If, now, this nation could spend six 
 thousand million of dollars to deliver a foreign race out of 
 slaver3^ could it not spend, say, twenty thousand millions of 
 dollars to make all its citizens free"? Compare such a debt with 
 the incumbrances of so many modern wars, waged in the in- 
 terests of a few persons or of a small class, and remember, 
 that in this case the consideration will be bequeathed with the 
 debt ; for the land and machinery will remain intact, or rather 
 will multiply itself in course of a few generations. On this 
 point we shall have more to sa}' in the next chapter. 
 
 But should our Plutocracy choose to make the llevolution 
 a violent one, then — we suppose they will be dispossessed with- 
 out compensation. Read llistor3^ and you will tind, that the 
 dominant class has furnished us with plenty ot precedents. 
 
 The various privileges of the nobles and clergy were "'prop- 
 erty;" they are so no longer. Germany, Italy, Spain, and 
 France have repeatedly confiscated the estates of nobility and 
 clergy. England has done the same thing with the soil of 
 Ireland. It is worth while for capitalists to bear in mind Carl- 
 yle's words: '■' Who can be hood-winked into believing that 
 loyalty to the money-bag is nobler than loyalty to nobles and 
 clergy?" But we need not go away from home : our country 
 confiscated the slaves of the South ; that is a splendid precedent 
 for us. 
 
 '•• But it is certainly granted, that Government never can do 
 Dusmcss as well as private individuals, simply because the 
 latter are personally interested in their affairs." 
 
 This is decidedly 7ioi granted. It is only a commonplace, 
 
126 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 manufacture 1 to order by interested parties; asti^^ma, ingen- 
 iously fastened on State-activity by individu.-ils who profit by 
 the absence of it. The fact, that our government cari'ies a 
 letter for us promptly and s:ifely across the continent for two 
 cents ; the fact that tiio English telegraph service sends a des- 
 l)atch to any paitof the United Kingdom for twent}' live cents; 
 the fact, thnt the Uelgian railwa v management only charges 
 thirty-six cents for every thirty miles, these prove, that the 
 State, even as noio coustiiuted. can and does manage national 
 interests better than any private i)arties could do it. Or, to 
 clinch our argument: suppose a proposition was submitted to 
 the people to relegate our mail-service back to private corpor- 
 ations, can any sane man doubt, that it would be overwhelm- 
 ingly defeated, even if all Star-route frauds were brought to 
 light? 
 
 There is one particular State-activity that has proved the 
 eminent litness of the State to direct the work of Societ}'^ 
 and that is its scientitic labors. Look at the exceptional oi- 
 ticiency of our Coast-Survey, Light-IIouse-Service, the labors 
 of the Naval Observatory, Signal Service, Patent Office, Oe- 
 o logical Survej's. 
 
 And, in point of fact, is the management of any of our big 
 corporations better entitled to be called management by the 
 '•persons interested,"' than the administration of a public of- 
 fice? The State can evitlently be far more efficient than the 
 most efficient i)rivate company io-da3% simply because it 
 will have in its service the best capacities that the country 
 contains, and can organize the greatest possible Division of 
 Labor. 
 
 •'Rut what an unbearable omnipotent centralization! Un- 
 bearable to a degree unheard of before in history. Your Com- 
 monwealth will have the supreme power without nppeal, to 
 domineer over all the social and industrial interests of the 
 country at its pleasure, even to the extent of saying how many 
 hours a man shall work or how much money he may earn, 
 That is a tyranny, a slavery, that certaiidy will never be sub- 
 mitted to b}'- the strong individuality of our people. And what 
 an enormous crowd of officials? If corruption is now every' 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 127 
 
 where cropping out in our Civil Service how will it be wlien 
 that service is increased a tliousandfold?'' 
 
 One thing at a time, friend, thou.^-h it is very well to have 
 these objections noticed. Civil Service increased, j'oii say. 
 Then you are truly nearsighted. Wliat else arc now our mer- 
 chants, our foremen, oui superintendents, our bank-presidents, 
 cashiers — yes,, and all our workers but persons wlio serve ws, 
 or pretend to serve us; what else but functionaries of Society, 
 though the}-- are so i.i a private capacity? Is there not an im- 
 mense number of men now, occupying private positions in- 
 tent only on then* interests or the interests of their emplo3'er3 
 and yet to all intents and purposes ojjicials of Society? The only 
 change, then which our Commonwealth will bring about in 
 that respect, is to change these private functionaries into puhlic 
 ojjlcials^ but far from increasing the'-'Cisil Service," this 
 change will, actually, vastly decrease the number of those 
 who now spend their time as mere overseers, managers or 
 middlemen. 
 
 And why should a change from private into public function- 
 aries tend to make these ofHcials corrupts Public Service al- 
 ways lends dignity to the servant, and if our Civil Service is 
 corrupt, it is evidently due to the uncertain teiun-e and the 
 fact that political adventurers have tlie inside track. If /. i. 
 the Gas Trust of Philadelphia is poorly managed, it is only 
 because it is used for political pnrposes. But politicians 
 will not have much to say under the New Order, as we shall 
 see later on. 
 
 And centralization I Well, wiiat of it? There are feople 
 wiio pronounce that word with unaffected horror, as if it vSig- 
 nitied something exceedingly execrable. And yet every healthy 
 man is an instance of the most perfect centralization in his 
 own person. Indeed, the moment that perfect centralization 
 ceases, sullcring is the result. And as with the human ori:an- 
 ism, so with the social organism. Division of Labor demands 
 centralization or anarchy is the result. 
 
 We, however, can very well apj)n'ciate the cause of that 
 outcry. The centralization of industries that we witness around 
 us is not altogether good; our wiono^o^ies are not altogether 
 
128 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 good things— that is exactly what we took pains to show in 
 our second chapter — for the siiuj)le reason that they are cen- 
 tered in private, irresponsible individuals, bent only on private 
 gain. And so whenever any one advocates tlie centralization 
 of industrial or political activities in the State, everybody 
 thinks of the ijresent State, vvhich, as we have seen, is as yet 
 only tlie representative of certain classes ; everybody thus has 
 ill mind a private party, a power outside of tlie people. 
 
 It is no wonder that people shudder at the thought of giv- 
 ing unlimited, supreme control over all our social, political 
 and industrial affairs to a lot of politicians of the sort that now 
 sit in Washington and our State-capitals and rule us. They 
 think of the princes of the ^liddle Ages who arbitrarily inter- 
 fered with and domineered over the private affairs of their sub- 
 jects and imagine that Socialists propose to introduce similar 
 tyranny on a far greater scale. This must also have been in 
 George's mind, when he wrote: " it is evident that whatever 
 savors of regulation and restriction is in itself bad," for he 
 certainly cannot mean that order and method are bad. 
 
 It must therefore be boriie in mind, that we contemplate the 
 fully developed State; the State that has incorporated in itself 
 not only all social activities, but also ih(Mohole population ; the 
 State where every citizen is a part of the Administration, not 
 in a Pickwickian sense as now, but a real, integral part, per- 
 forming his share of it in the place where he is put ; a State 
 where, according to our definition, every one is a public func- 
 tionary, where therefore all State-help is really and truly Self- 
 help. 
 
 Such a State, of course, will require quite other machinery 
 than any present State has got, and perhaps it is difficult to 
 ^rasp the idea of such a State, without considering the kind 
 of machinery that will be necessary to work it ; but that we 
 must defer till the eighth chapter. 
 
 In order, however, to dispel the notion that centralization of 
 all social activities in the Cooperative Commonwealth implies 
 any domineering whatever or anything whatever analogous 
 to the arbitrary interference of medieval princes, we shall call 
 attention to the parallel between that normal State and a hu- 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 129 
 
 man organism. The latter possesses a central regulative sys- 
 tem, which, is not the man, but quite distinct from the man: 
 which is but an organ, on a footing with the other organs, hi 
 like niauncr tlie normal State will po.ssess its central regulative 
 system and will exactly thereby distinguish itself from the 
 present State, which has no such system or a but very, very 
 imperfect one. But this regidative system will not be the State, 
 but simply an organ, on a footing with the other organs : the 
 associated workers of each branch of industry or social activit}''. 
 It will, we suppose, ha^e three essential functions: that of be- 
 ing Chief Superintendent^ Chief Statistician and Arbitrator. Each 
 of the other organs may manage their own affairs, subject simp- 
 ly to the supervisory control of what we, temporarily, call the 
 central regulative organ. That is the Socialist idea. 
 
 Suppose/, i. the cotton-workers to control the whole manu- 
 facture of cotton. They settle among themselves the rate of 
 remuneration which shall be paid to unskilled labor and to the 
 various grades of skilled labor; they, further, calculate for 
 themselves how much labor will be embodied in their products 
 and from these data the remuneration to be paid to each work- 
 er is a simple matter of figures. 
 
 lUit thii prices of the products is a matter that vitally con- 
 cerns the whole people; wherefore, most naturally, the cen- 
 tral regulative organ will claim the right to have the annual 
 price-list laid before it for its approval. 
 
 'I'he rate of remuneration and the hours of labor of these 
 cotton-workers, on the other hand, only concern these work- 
 ers themselves. There need be no fear, that they will not be 
 able to settle these matters among themselves, for if they do 
 not come to an agreement they will have to starve. It will 
 not pay to "strike" in the Coming Commonwealth and there 
 will be no reason for striking. Moreover, if any of the work- 
 ers should feel himself aggiieved by the action of his fellows* 
 there will be the recourse to the Courts of the country left him ; 
 that is, recourse to the central regulative organ as Arbitrator. 
 
 With such "an arrangement we fail to see where the ''unbear- 
 able" centralization will come in. Will it not rather be au 
 ideal sort of self-government? 
 
130 EXPEDIENCY OF 
 
 Now we can see why Socialists put such a value on Trades^ 
 Unions as they do. It is not that these Unions are always 
 models of associations — thongli even the most faulty unions are 
 better in every wny than no union;; ; — it is not that they always 
 materially benefit their members, but that tiicse Unions are 
 destined to form the skeleions of tliese industrial departments 
 of the future of wliich we, in another chapter, shall- have more 
 to say. Especially will these Unions prove invaluable dnrini^ 
 the transition period. In places where they are well organized 
 and embrace all the best workers of the trade, they may, on 
 the establishment of the Cooperative Commonwealtli, take 
 possession of the industrial plant of their trade and go i-ight 
 to work as if they nev'cr had known any other airangement. 
 And that the nrtizans of England are already thus strongly 
 organized is just a reason why we should think, that England 
 may be nearer the realization of Socialism than is generally 
 supposed. Organization is only second to sound ideas. 
 
 ''But, then, don't you know the Malthusian law? Don't 
 you know, that if your Commonwealth succeed as you expect ; 
 if four hours of daily labor will provide the laborer and his 
 family with all comforts, that then this country will very soon 
 not have standing room for its population? Do you not 
 know, that your Commonwealth caiuiot last a generation, un- 
 less it commands its people when to marry and how many 
 children they may have?" 
 
 Yes, Socialists know Malthus very well, that English cler- 
 gyman, himself the father of not less than eleven children, 
 who told the poor, that they have themselves to thank for 
 their miseries, because, forsooth, thej^ marry too early, and 
 beget too many children ! But they also know that this doc- 
 trine of his is a vicious monstrosity, hatched in the saloons of 
 tne wealthy and tlattering to the conscience of the ruling class- 
 es and that llierofore it has been so widely accepted. Just as 
 well say, that if you crowd millions of people into a city and 
 besiege it for months, that it, also, is Nature's fault, when 
 they die of starvation and plagues. 
 
 No, neither England nor Ireland liad at the time of Mal- 
 thus or has had at any time since too large a population. It 
 
THE COOPERATIVE COM^IOXWE \LTH. 131 
 
 niny be safely said, on the contrary, that Gi-eat Britain even 
 now lias too small a i)opulation for a really high civilization. 
 If the smart fellows of the Stono Age had been Malthnsiiins 
 and had been able to i)revent increase of population beyond 
 the supply of the then existing cm^es^ we never should have 
 hud brown-stone-fronts or architects. 
 
 Again, it is not true that the better fed and better off peo- 
 ple are, the more they will propagate. The reverse is the fact. 
 Jlopeless poverty makes men reckless and only intent on ani- 
 mal gratifications. Facts prove that the increase of any class 
 is in inverse ratio to its social position and wealth. 
 
 In England it is a matter of common observation that the 
 families of the nobility and gentry constantly tend to die out. 
 Here in our country it is even so. In the beginning of this 
 century families with from ten to fifteen children each were 
 not rare in New England ; now^ one with more than six is found 
 only among the poor. In the Cooperative Commonwealth 
 there will rather be reason to fear that the population will 
 tend to decreas3 than that it will ever be too redundant. 
 
 The best service that Henry George has rendered to Social- 
 ism with his ''Progress and Poverty" is, that he has laid bare 
 the utter absurdity of the Malthusian philosophy. All we 
 now have to do, when any body brings it forward as an ob- 
 jection, is to tell him to go and study the second Book of his 
 work. 
 
 If the misery of the world were caused by overpopulation, 
 as Malthus would have it, then, indeed Socialism, or any oth- 
 er progressive movement, would be a Utopia. Fortunately the 
 reverse is true : it is 
 
 Misery that causes Overpopulation, 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 
 
 *' The principal narrowness of Political Economists is that 
 of regarding their ])resent experience of niaiikiiul as of univer- 
 sal validity, mistaking temporary phases of human character 
 for human nature itself.'' — Auguste Comte. 
 
 '•'Tlie best state of human nature is that in wliicli, while no 
 one is poor, no one desires to be riclier, nor has any reason co 
 fear being tlu-ust back by tlie efforts of others to push them- 
 selves forward/' — John Mill. 
 
 '•The citizens of a large nation, industrially organized, have 
 reached tlieir i)os.sible ideal of happiiuiss. wluMithe [)roduc-iiig, 
 (lisLributing and other activities are such, that each cili/eu 
 finds in them a place Jbr all his energies and aptitudes, while 
 lie obtains tiie means of satisfying all his desires." — Herbert 
 Spencer. 
 
 Political Economy pretends to be a science. Proudlion, on 
 the other hand, remarlvS that the merit of Maltlius — not dreamt 
 of by his admirers — is tiiat he has reduced Political Economy 
 to an absurdity. When we think of the dogma of the '* wages- 
 fund," which, divided by the munber of laborers, is said to 
 determine the current rate of wages, Proudhon's observation 
 must strike us as pat. A philosophy which turns the labor- 
 question into ii <xuestion in long divisiou is certainly a counter- 
 feit-science. But it' leyitimate Political Economy be a science, 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 133 
 
 It is at all events a very modern science. "VYe do not find a trace 
 or promise of it in ilie former liistorical periods as Ave do of 
 the otlier sciences. Like Athene it came into the world sud- 
 denly and full-fledged about 103 years ago. Curionsly enough 
 nobody seems ever to have aslced for the reason for tliis phe- 
 nomenon, and yet there must be a reason for it. We think 
 we have found it in the lact tliat Political Economy concerns 
 itself with tiie production and distribution of ^veaith under the 
 wacie-system^ exclusiveli' ; for this explanation of course, includes 
 that it would have no raisona etre — no reason for being — under 
 a system of slavery or serfage. But in order to maintain tlie 
 nimbus of a "science" it has to inculc-ate that this ^yage- 
 System is a permanent system, the normal condition of effect- 
 1V3 production, and thus it has come to pass that a philosophy 
 which was legitimate if it limited itself to its proper sphere: 
 that of explaining the working of the present system, has been 
 prostituted by being made to justify the present social ar- 
 rangements, as having uaiv^rsal validity. 
 
 But if. as we maintahi, this wage-system is nothing but a 
 temporary phase of the evolution of Society, then it follows 
 that Political Economy is destined to be superceded by a new 
 philosophy', a true science, as soon as the new conditions arise. 
 Under Social-Coo; >eratiou we shall have a perfectly different 
 Philosophy of the Production and Distribution of wealth, 
 which we, not inaptly, may call Social Economy. 
 
 But do not for a moment suppose that we here intend to 
 elaborate that new science, we are all of us too much the chil- 
 dren of our own age to make such an attempt. Yet w^e also 
 know that both Americans and Englishmen cannot be expected 
 to cooperate consciously with the natural development of the 
 New Social Order before they have learned to know its lead- 
 injr features and have found them on the whole desirable. Such 
 an attitude is decidedly commendable, but may easily degener- 
 ate into a disposition to propound conundrums, and such we 
 are not disposed to try to solve. , 
 
 Do not forget, that Socialists are not willing to be taken for 
 architects. He is a bad architect who cannot plan the building 
 lie is required to erect, to the nicest details ; who is unable to 
 
134 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 
 
 tell the size of this drawing-room, or the exact location of 
 that closet. Da not demand such details from us. 
 
 Rather may we liken ourselves to nutnr;ilists : a botanist 
 ought t<> be able to tell what plant will develop out of a cer- 
 talu seed, but he ca:inot tell how ma:iy leaves it will have. 
 
 And in like manner we ought to be able to indicate the 
 most striking economic consequences which with logical ne- 
 cessity will flow from collective control of the instruments of 
 labor. 
 
 AVe can say, that Interest, Pi'ofit and Rent, being nothing 
 but the spoils which private monopoly of the instruments of 
 production at present enables individuals to exact, will be- 
 come things of the past, as soon as the Co.nino.iweaUh takes 
 posscssian of the whole industrial and agricultural plant. 
 
 Interest will, for the lirst time in hu iian history, be given a 
 fatal blow. All laws against Usury have prov(!n worse tlian 
 useless. When under the Roman Kepnblie Usury wis punished 
 with death, it flourished the most — at the rate of a hundred 
 percent. We have already seen, how in this capitali.-^t era the 
 taking of interest has become a norm.il and legitimate fi;'ature 
 of our system, even one of ''the inalienable Rights of Man," 
 in Bentham's words. All Usury-laws limiting the rate of in- 
 terest are set at defiance, simply because they clash with the 
 prevailing mode of doing business. 
 
 The Coming Commonwealth will be the ejffective destroyer 
 of both Interest and Usuiy. For when all enterprises have 
 been taken in hand by Society, Wealth will no longer be used 
 — and consequently will no longer be borrowed — as Capital; 
 in the words of our previous delinition : it can no longer be 
 '•employed productively, with a view to jn-ojlt/^ Thus wilh 
 the reason for it, with its raisond^etre^ Interest itself will ce;ise 
 to be legitimate. Interest and Usury will once more be con- 
 vertible terms; that is, it will become, as of old, infamous to 
 charge interest for sums of money loaned to persons in em- 
 barrassed circumstances. And who will need to be in such cir- 
 cumstances? 
 
 As a matter of course, that which now is called Projit will 
 disappear. It will be added to the reward of Labor. 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 135 
 
 Bent as Rent, as a tribute levied by individual monopolists of 
 land, will be no more. All land u?ed for agricultural or in- 
 dustrial purposes, will have become a part of the collective 
 plant. Lund used by citizens for homes or other private pur- 
 poses will yield rent or taxes — whatever you choose to cnll 
 it — to the Commonwealth; which rent will probably be regu- 
 lated b.v L)eniand and Supply, for there is no reason, wdiy tho 
 more desirable sites should not then as now be the more val- 
 uable. 
 
 The Commonwealth will derive whatever revenues it needs 
 for collective purposes from two sources : Rent and. probably 
 a percentage on every article sold, added to the cost of pro- 
 duction, which then will mean, what "' Cost of production " 
 should even now always, but does not alwaj's, mean; the 
 Value of the article, the sum total of Labor embodied in it. 
 Everybody will thus bear his share of the public charge-^ i:i 
 proportion to his consumption. And his consumption wiil 
 in all likelihood be pretty nearly equal to his income. He 
 will not be able very well to go bcyo:ul his i:icome, as is so 
 frequently the case now — by-the-vvay. this sj'stem of *• living 
 upon credit" is responsible for a very large proportion of the 
 miseries by wbic!i modern society is afflicted; — and he will be. 
 at least, under very great temptation to spend all he earns. 
 It will be public policy to encourage him in doing so. It is 
 not tor the individual citizen to save, but for Society. The 
 best interests of Society require that a taste for comforts and 
 enjoyments should be widel}' diffused and, if possible, inter- 
 woven with national habits and prejudices, as Mc Culloch re- 
 marks. 
 
 From this it will appear, that the Cooperative Common- 
 wealth will have an immense advantage over all modern States 
 in the matter of taxation. Not alone, that assessors and tax- 
 gatherers will be dispensed with; that there will be no possi- 
 bility of evading one's contribution to the collective expenses; 
 that they will be distributed in the most equitable manner, and 
 caimot be burdensome to anj'body; but the Commonwealth 
 will at all times have the whole wealth of the Nation at its 
 command. Suppose the rate of percentage for the ensuing 
 
136 SOCIAL EC0N05IT. 
 
 fiscal year, as estimated, be found to be too low, or any sudden 
 emergency to arise ! There uie the warehouses ! No need 
 any more of issuing bonds, to be bought for li;ilf their face- 
 value by greedy capitalists. 
 
 Next, we can affirm, that money — ^by which we understand 
 Gold-und Silver-coin and their representatives — will beconie 
 entirely useless in the Coniii)g Commonwealth. We <lo not 
 s:iy that Society may not go on for an indefinite period using 
 it for various reasons of convejiience, but tliat not a tj'ace of 
 the necessity which makes money play such important role in 
 our present sj^stem will reinaiu. 
 
 Money is now the quintessence of Capital, or " Capital par 
 excellence .^"^^ as Lassallc called it. The manufacturer or mer- 
 chant cannot make a move without Money. They maj' have 
 their warehouses tilled with merchandise, but tliey cannot pay 
 their drafts with them. Yet many, even men of the acutest 
 intellect, do not sufficiently appreciate the important function 
 which Money performs in our present social systein. 
 
 Thus John Kuskin compares peopl.; with partiality for mon- 
 ey to children who would tear furniture to pieces and light 
 cacli otlier for brassheaded nails. 
 
 And an economist and logician like John S. Mill speaks ol 
 Money as "only (I) a contrivance for saving time and labor." 
 
 Very naive^ indeed! As if that were not enough! lie might 
 just as well dispose of railroads by rc^narking: " Bah! they 
 are only contrivances for saving time and labor." 
 
 Monc}' is precisely so precious, because it, under the indus- 
 trial system which we have now, is the greatest of all labor- 
 saving instruments. People are separated by their interests, 
 by a nuUtipli'city of interests. Money brings them together; 
 is, as it is termed, a medium of exchange between them. That is 
 the vital f imclion of ^loney. That medimn of exchange is the 
 best which brings people together in the easiest and quickest 
 way; and that is just what Monoy does better than any oilier 
 connnodity. Just as a raihoad is a more efficient contrivanco 
 t'.ian a siagc-coach, and this again than a lumber-wagon, so 
 Gold and Silver are better media of exchange than wheat or 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 137 
 
 tobacco or oxen or any other commodity that has been tried. 
 Moue}'' was invented, as any other labor-saving instrument has 
 been invented : to save time and hibor; to escape the deadlocK 
 of Barter. 
 
 But what is it that makes a railroad at all useful? The fact, 
 that men are separated in space. Imagine, however, that dis- 
 tance were annihilated, then there would certainly be no eartb 
 ly use for a railroad. 
 
 fn tlie same manner, whenever men's interest cease to be 
 adverse; whenever these interests become identical, as they 
 will become under our Commonwealth by perfect association, 
 then evidently, the business of ]\Ioney will begone. Gold and 
 Silver will then become absolutely worthless as Money, as far 
 as the internal affairs ot Society are concerned — they will have, 
 of course, to be used as Money in all intercourse with other 
 Nations who have not yet embraced Socialism. Then John 
 Ruskin may assert, that they are not worth much more than 
 brassheaded nails — bnt not till then. 
 
 How will Exchange then be carried on? By Acconnt. fa- . 
 cilitated by some such contrivance as labor-checks. The cur- 
 rent of development is running in that direction : first we have 
 Barter, then Money, and even now Account is more and more 
 supplanting the latter, the more and more closely we are be- 
 coming associated. When in the Cooperative Commonwealth 
 Money has been superannuated we shall have nothing but 
 cheeks, notes, tickets — whatever j^ou will call them — issued 
 by authority. 
 
 '* Ah I So you Socialists are half-Greenbackers." 
 
 You are mistaken, sir ! It would be more correct to say, 
 that Greenbackers are /ia7/-Socialists ; and because they are 
 only that '-half' v/e maintain they are wholly wrong, even 
 on the money-question. We have already seen that on the 
 broader question of social development they are absolute re- 
 actionists ; that they have no fault to find with individual own- 
 ership of the instruments of labor, but war against its inevit- 
 able natural development. 
 
 By the way. there is leally something curious about thi? 
 greenback movement in our country. How shall we account 
 
138 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 
 
 for it? May not tlie reason for this abnormal plienonienon be 
 S()n<^lit in the fact that the '' Ahiiighty Dollar" is peculiarly 
 tlie Amevlcan fetish ? 
 
 Btit to return to thy distinction between Socialists and the 
 consistent Greenhackers : the ^a^-men. The latter propose, 
 tliat the State shall issue its notes, tender them to its creditors 
 iiud ^ive them to the People saying : '* Take this ! With this 
 dollar-note you can go anywhere within my jurisdiction and 
 buy one dollar's worth of goods with it." 
 
 The great trouble, however, is that the State of these fiat- 
 men is the present State. They want to abolish Money — that 
 Is the precious metals as Money — and yet to retain the present 
 system of production, which is just as irrational as a scheme 
 would be to abolish the Pope and still to preserve the Catho- 
 lic church. For wli:it does an assertion like the above by the 
 ])resent State amount to? It is a promise, without any possi- 
 \ bl<^ performance, for the simple reason that this State has ab- 
 solutely no title to the goods which it thus disposes of. These 
 belong, by its own sanction and concession, to individual citi- 
 zens. 
 
 Now note how much more logical the Socialist position is. We 
 claim that the state shall first take possession of and own the 
 Wai-ehouses and the wares, and thereafter issue its notes. 
 Then, and not till then, the State will be so conditioned, that 
 it can i)erforni what it promises. For then it can say:*'(Jo 
 into any of mn warehouses, and 1 will sell 3'ou a dollar's worth 
 of my goods for this dollar note of mine.'" 
 
 The distinction on the money-question then is. not alone that 
 Greenbackersare but half-Socialistsbut that it is th('?rt/ie?* part 
 of the Socialist program which thc}'^ have api^iopriated; they 
 have put the cart l)efore the horse. 
 
 It will further he seen from this, that we differ from the 
 Greenhackers. and agree with Political Economists in holding, 
 that "money is the tool we use for eflecting exchange by the 
 lielp of two half-exchanges of conunodity for connnodity : " 
 that Money, therefore, is a commodity, and could not be Money, 
 if it were not a commodity, and that this commodity, like all 
 other wares, dei-ives its Value, partly from its scarcity. 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. . 139 
 
 bnt mainly from the labor crystalizccl in it; and tluit our pres- 
 ent paper-money is but a representative of Monej^ * 
 
 But we ngree vvitli tlie Greenbackers in holding that Money 
 is destined to be " superannuated,"' if we mny use the term, 
 as payment in kind has long since been, and that the Credit of 
 the Nation will take its place. 
 
 We shall here make a digression to state definitely our po- 
 sition in regard to compensation to the disi)0ss('ssed owners 
 of property, which we left somewliat unsettled in the last 
 chapter. 
 
 We suggested there that, if the final change were accom- 
 plished by force, the State would possibly expropriate our n;en 
 of wealth without any compensation ^vhatever. Their oistiiKj 
 rifjhts (ire. such wJii' li the law gives and -what the law (ji es law can 
 talce awntj. That would be done without anj' compunction of 
 conscience, seeing that much of that wealih is obtained by 
 questionable methods, and very much of it by tlu trickery of 
 buying and selling, wliieh never can create v.. U3. and. indeed, 
 ought net to rnrnish the manipulator mere subsist nee. Bnt as 
 a ujatter of policy the State may see fit to give the i)roprietoi'S 
 a fair compensation for that property which Society took 
 under its control. Bnt there are two important " bnts*' to 
 note. 
 
 They will not receive any interest on the sums allowed them. 
 When all interest has ceased to be legitimate throughout So- 
 ciety, Society itself will hardly charge itself with that burden. 
 
 They will not be paid in Mone}-, but in goods, in articles of 
 enjoyment, furnished in annuities to those whose claim insuf- 
 ficiently large. 
 
 Sui>pose we owe Vanderbilt a sum equal to one hundred 
 miliion of Dollars. We pay him a million a year for a hundred 
 years, and cancel the debt. Vanderbilt could then take his 
 one million in labor-checks, or whatever products die chose, 
 and ninety-nine millions in non-interest bearing U. S. ceitifi- 
 eates of indebtedness, and use them in Europe or elsewhere 
 
 * We may here remark, that we also, with Political Econo- 
 mi:it.'*, consider our fractional curren<;y, not Money at all. but 
 mere counters, tokens; just what our labor-checks will be. 
 
140 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 
 
 just as h^ pleased. We shonkl say that this would be adiug 
 ver?/ generously witli him, when we remember — what it will 
 not do any harm once more to call attention to. — that Society 
 never yet has acted in a like spirit of social justice towards the 
 working classes^ whenever theu suffered injury, and grievous 
 injury, by new machinery and nevv inventions. 
 
 Socialists of old used to insist upon the abolition of the Eight 
 of Inheritance and Bequest. Now we can see, that there ab- 
 solutely will be no need for that. And it is well. For if that 
 which I gain by my own labor is rightfully my property — and 
 the Cooperative ( 'oniuionwealth will, as we have seen, exact- 
 ly sanction that claim — it willbedecidedly inexpedient in that 
 Commonwealth to destroy any of the essential qualities of 
 propertyship ; and 1 can hardly call that my property, which 
 I may not give to whom I please after my death. Further, to 
 deny me that right is undeniable to lessen, by so much, my in- 
 centives to effort. 
 
 There will be no need to do away with that right, for when 
 property can no longer increase from interest, and fleecings; 
 when it Jio more confers power on its possessor, then Private 
 wealth will become harmless. 
 
 Take even a Rothschild. Suppose him compensated in full 
 for all he is "' worth." — How abominable this phrase is! so 
 very signiticant of our age, to call a man whose body and soul 
 may not be worth a farthing to Society •* worth " millions of 
 dollars — well, he will be paid in bread and meat and luxuries 
 and wine and theatre-tickets. Let him enjoy these things. 
 Let liim till himself to repletion! Let him give away and 
 squander the rest ! Do not be afraid, that the State will be 
 burdened for many generations with these charges; his very 
 next heirs will see to it, that it will not. These immense ac- 
 cumulations will not last so very long, when they cease to be 
 prolilic. 
 
 But our present laws of inheritance may very likely expe- 
 rience gi-eat modilications. It, certainl}^ is absurd, that a sec- 
 ond cousin ot mine who does not know hfmself related to me, 
 until there is something to be gained by it, should have any 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 141 
 
 claim to my property after my death. But that is a matter 
 loreigii to our puri>o5e. 
 
 '• But, to returu to tlie money question, how will you dis- 
 pense with tlie other function which Money now performs : 
 that of measuring vakies?" 
 
 This function of Money as a Measurer of Values is really 
 hut ai? incidental one. while that of acting as a Medium of EX' 
 change is its principal and true function. There ai'e abuiidauL 
 reasons why the precious metals should be the media of ex- 
 change, as long as we need any. hat absolutely no reason can 
 be given for either gold or silver being a better measurer of 
 vaUies than any other commodity. They have, in fact, always 
 pel formed that function pooily; gold and silver havetluctua- 
 ted nearly as much as most of the wares whose values they 
 had to measure. 
 
 We saw in the first chapter, tiiat it is reallj^ the amount of 
 labor, cr3'stalized in an article, which determines its value; 
 that it is labor which determines the '••level'' value of even 
 gold and silver; that is, the value round which tiieir market 
 price vibrates. Why. then, would not a definite amount of 
 labor be a far more appropriate, constant and convenient meas- 
 ure ■? The change would have the great advantage of enabling 
 the worker to know for certain what returns he receives fur 
 his work, lie does not know it now, for Monc}' obscures the 
 transactions of all buying and selling; it serves as a mask, 
 which this change will tear oft. Instead of sajing. that acoat is 
 worth so many "doUars," we sliali ia the New Commonwealth 
 discard all mystery and call it worth so much work. We, there- 
 fore, apprehend, that, just as one of our greenbacks promises to 
 pay one dollai- on demand, these labor-chjcks of which we 
 spoke will i)roinise to pay on demand anything of the value 
 of, say, one day's labor or fractijual part thereof. 
 
 '' AVell, but a da^^'s labor by one person, and a day's la- 
 bor by another are, certainly, very different things. To talk 
 of a day's labor as a measure is about as definite as the boy's 
 comparison: "• long as a string; ' is it not?" 
 
 Yes, but it would make some diff'erence, if the boy said: 
 " long as this string" and showed it to you, without allowing 
 
142 SOCIAL ECONOMY . 
 
 yoii to moasiire it exactly. The unit : " a day's work" will 
 ni an the simplest work of average efi •L'lieij of a normal work^ 
 iiKj day. We would here recall to our readers what was said 
 o I Va'm ill t!ie rtrst chapter. It was there stated, amonp' oth- 
 er thiiii^s, that all skilled a;id professional work is nothing but 
 njiiltiplied eonmion, or unskilled, work. We once more cite the 
 words of llicardo: '-Tiie estimation of different qualities of 
 Labor com.'s soon to be adjusted in the market with sufticieut 
 precision for all practical i)urposes." While therefore we 
 grant tliat "a day's lal)or,'' iis a unit of value, has not the sci- 
 cntilic i)reci-^ion of a foot-rule as a unit of length, we claim, 
 that it is well titted to supplant the dollar-unit. When five 
 days' labor is demanded for a coat, it will not be at all difHcult 
 for the buyer to compare that with the amount of common 
 work, contained in his own day's labor. 
 
 The distinguishing economic traits of the New Order, con- 
 sidered so far in this ciiapter, were of a negative character: 
 thej' consisted in the elimination of features that we now everj^- 
 where meet with; yet this change alone would make it a dif- 
 ferent world from ours. In passing over to the positive char- 
 acteristics of the Cooperative Coin-.nonwealth we should keep 
 in mind that it is not an imai^inary picture drawn on a blank 
 tablet, but that it will bear the same relation to the Established 
 Order that tiie full-blown flower bears to the green bud. This 
 relation,>>hip, ind^^'.ed, will make us feel quite at ho.n . if we in 
 imagination take a bird's-eye view of its economic workings, 
 though we should find ourselves irretrievably lost in its labyr- 
 inths, if weattempted to treadour way through itsdetails. For 
 its grand industrial processes will be carried on pretty much as 
 they now are, or might be, conduct<'d in some of our best man- 
 aged manufacturing or retail-selling establishments. Or it 
 might perhaps >uit our purpose better if we take the present 
 State-management of our postal affairs as an illustratio-i, and 
 compare that with Socialist management of all our industries. 
 
 The l*ostofiice Department was self-sustaining, before the 
 two-cent rate was i.itro luced. and will beyond doubt be so 
 again in a short time. That is to say, its expenditures in sal- 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 1 13 
 
 aries for all in its service, and in paying for transpf/rtation of 
 the mails and printing of stamps c(inalod, at the end of tlie 
 fiscal year, its i-eceipts. That is the su iiaiit of success, for to 
 have a surplus, to make any •• profit," is contrary to tlie end 
 for whicli it is instituted. 
 
 Let us now see how this most important matter wiU stand 
 in our Commonwealth. Its receipts, — not the " revenues " of 
 which we spoke a few pages back but — its r/ross lJeceii)ts, the 
 National Income, will consist of the total results of the pro- 
 ductive labor perfoi-med in a given year; — by '-productive la- 
 bor'' is of course not meant merely agricultural and manu- 
 facturing labor, but also the labor of transporting and hand- 
 ling the goods, of writing books; every kind of labor, in short, 
 thatcreates values-in-exchange. Its Expenditures-Outgoings — 
 will consist of these very receipts less all buildings and machinery, 
 constructed during the yeai-, and all that is reserved as addi- 
 tion to its Capital. As the products were received or as services 
 were rendered, labor-checks will have been issued, (or perhaps 
 such money a? we use now, which then, however, will have no 
 other function than the checks: that of being tickets, tokens,) 
 each check will represent so and so many normal days of com- 
 mon labor, and there will during each fiscal year have been 
 exactly as many checks issued as will correspond to the days 
 of labor, productive or unproductive, nctualbj performed. 
 
 The outgoings will be distributed at the various depots or 
 bazaars of the Coujmonwealth to the holders of these checks, 
 ••sold" there, in other words. These check-holders may be 
 those to whom they were originally issued, or strangers visit- 
 ing the country or citizens who h:ive parted with something 
 valuable fjr them. Thesn bazaars will be one price establish- 
 ments. The wares will have their value, real, " natural "' val- 
 ue, asKicardo termed it. which is— as we saw in Chapter /, — 
 the amount of luunan labor embodied in them; that deter- 
 mines their value now. has always done it, and will de- 
 termine it under the Xew Order. The wares will be sold for 
 a price equal to that value, with possibly a ])ercentage ad Jed. 
 
 For it will be noted that the ehecks issued represent and call 
 for more davs labor than arc contained in the products, lies- 
 
144 SOCIAL ECONOxMY. 
 
 tilled for distribution. There are, first, tlie checks issued to 
 tliose citizens who hav«' performed iinproduciive labor: phys- 
 io'iatis, j:id;T^es, tcacliers, clerks, domestic iielpers &c.and. next, 
 checks f jr ihe labor contained in what is set aside as Capital. 
 There are thus a good many legitimate claims which must be 
 extraordinaiil}' provided for. The Commonwealth has already 
 a fund on which it can draw considerably for these purposes: 
 its rent-fund. In all probabilitj'-, however, an impost will, in 
 addition, have to be laid on the sales; that is, goods represent- 
 ing 20 days of Labor will be sold for checks, representing, say, 
 21 days of labor. This, though realh' plain, m.ty seem intri- 
 cate to many, but if the social transactions of to-day were sim- 
 ilarly analyzed, they would appear far more complex. 
 
 But it is of the highest importance that the Commonwealth 
 shall dispose of all the products it thus offers f»r distribution, 
 or else there will be labor-checks outstanding which it has no 
 means of satisfying. Somebody might bring forward some 
 such (Ejection as this : 
 
 ''I understood you to saj-^ that the prices will be rigidly fixed. 
 But what if Demand and Supply should play you tricks'? Sup- 
 pose a ifabric goes out of fashion, so that your citizens will 
 not buy it at all. or at all events refuse to pay the price that 
 is put upon it. Is j'our Commonwealth going to force it down 
 the throats of consumers? You Socialists do not propose to 
 abolish a law of Nature, do you? '' 
 
 This is our answer: We admit that Demand and Supply is 
 a natural law; that is, that if consumption and production 
 does not fit together throughout the entire extent of both, mis- 
 chief will be the consequence at all times, and Socialists are 
 not such fools as to suppose, that they can decree away any 
 natural law or force. We do, however, suppose, that we may 
 in time become as much master of the force implied in Demand 
 and Supply, as we already are of other natural forces. We 
 have not decreed away the laws of steam, and yet we make 
 MOW the steam propel our siiips across the ocean and carry 
 oiu" burdens across the continent. We can change or remove 
 entirely the conditions under which those natural forces act, 
 and, thus, wilhouL abolishing any law whatever, compel theiu 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 145 
 
 to act ill a more beneficent manner; or to become latent, ttuit 
 is, to suspend their effects altogether. 
 
 [ndeed, we see almost every day how pow-^erf ul private indi- 
 viduals under our present system do control Siipphj tor their 
 own sinister purposes. The combinations ot lailroad com- 
 panies between each other or among themselves and oil-com- 
 lianies of which we spoke in Chapter 11 ViYii sucli interferences 
 vith a natural force which, if it only were permitted to act 
 Fpoutaneously, would act most beneficently, and as to Demand^ 
 it may be worth while to note that the freaks of fashion origi- 
 nate usually in the private cupidity of manufacturers and even 
 in that of insignificant tailors and milliners. 
 
 The Commonwealth will use its vast power over the con- 
 ditions of Demand and Supply to establish and preserve econ- 
 omic equilibrium. It undoubtedly can by proper foresight and 
 abunda nt statistics accurately adjust the supply of all prod- 
 ucts to the demand for them; make Supply and Demand bal- 
 ance each other. This function of Statistician will be one of 
 the most important within its sphere, and the principal way 
 in which it will control the workers in their industrial pur- 
 suits. We think the Commonwealth will thereby be qiute suc- 
 cessful i;i keepi)ig prices steady, and in making the chance for 
 DenLuul and Supi)ly to play aiu' ''tricks" extremely small. 
 We think so, because w i see. with what accuracy the mana- 
 ger of a large hotel hits upon the proper quantities of the iimii- 
 merable articles of i'ood. required by his guests. 
 
 But Denia-.id and Supply will, as a matter of course, when- 
 ever it gets the cliauc'. make the prices vibrate above and be- 
 low the real value. Thus, should the supply anywhere be ex- 
 cessive, <'ither fi-o;ii miscalculation or from the whim of fash- 
 ion — which by the way, we may rest assured will be pretty ef- 
 fectually curbed by Public Opinion in a society like the Co- 
 operative Comaionwealth — then the goods may have to be sac- 
 rificed, and the prices correspondingly lowered. The Coiu- 
 mo:i wealth may have to stand the loss, as the universal insurer, 
 which it will be abundantly able to do. Sh )ul.l. o;i the other 
 ha 111. the supply be deficient, as nmst, always be the case with 
 a limited luimber of products (particular kinds of wine, for 
 
J 46 SOCIAL ECONOMV. 
 
 instance.) in such case the Com;nonwealth \v ill r;ii>;e th'* piice 
 CO convsponil to the de nand ami 1)3 to thit extent a gainer. 
 Very likely tliis gain and loss will generally balance each other. 
 
 Of conrse all export and import will be nnler collective coi- 
 trol. Apartof its rec'^ipts. so much as it judges will not be needl- 
 ed for horae-CDnsuinption, the Commonwealth will excliange 
 for such foreign products as there will be a home-demand for, 
 and which it cannot itself produce so prolitably or success- 
 fully, whether it be on account of climate or other causes. 
 The lines of our co.nmerce will therefore very likely couk; to 
 run from North to South ruther than from East to West. 
 
 That is an arrangement tliat everybody will be satisfied with, 
 a consummation which will change the discord which now ob- 
 trains in regard to a tariff iato complete harmony. It will sat- 
 Ufy those who now sincerely advocate a policy of protection. 
 We cannot agree with Henry George when he cannot see any- 
 thing but '' fallacies " and ''absurdities" in the protection- 
 theory. This theory is so mud) in harmony with the present 
 tendency of theStateinthe direction of Socialism, that we can- 
 notbut sympathize with it Bat thetrouble is that our "protec- 
 tive" tariffs ^?o not protect those who need protection^ but protect 
 simply the profit-rate of e:nployers; the trouble is, that our 
 tariffs are adopted and m ii!itained in hypocrisy, ngiim hypocrisy 
 and nothing but iiYrocr.iSY. 
 
 There is, on the other hand, this sound element in the free- 
 trade theory that it is foolish for this country to produce here 
 what we can get much more profitably and better from for- 
 eign countries. But those who agitate so violently for it, ev- 
 idantly. do it because a free-trade policy would put money in- 
 to their pockets. As long as one s<'t of individuals see profit 
 in one policy and atiotlier set in another, the tariff can but he 
 a shuttlecock, tossed back and forth by conllicting interests. 
 To frame a tariff law that will pacify all interests is about ns 
 ingenious an idea as to pray to God for a mild winter without 
 prejudice to the coal-dealers. 
 
 Now we come to one of the most important differences be- 
 tween the condition of the workers under the New Order untl 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMl . 147 
 
 their condition under a system of private enterprise. Now 
 tlie wages of the workers — and also wages of letter carriers — 
 are determined, as we have seen, iu tSie last place by what it 
 costs to live and raise a family: in the Commonwealth, as our 
 definition shows, the workers will be rewarded according to 
 results, whether mechanics or chiefs of industry or transporcers 
 or salesmen. The productive workers will each receive for every 
 day's common labor a check, entitling him to one day's com- 
 mon labor in return — less his share of the impost, (his pre- 
 mium, it may be called, which he pays to the National Insur- 
 ance Company, and his part of the public charges.) Those 
 engaged in uni^roductive vocations will receive similar sal- 
 aries out of the rent or impost-fund. They all will thus re- 
 ceive the full value of their labors, and whenever they buy 
 an3ahing, they will simply pay wages and salaries, and no 
 profits. 
 
 " Yes, it is easy to say, that every one, whether he be teacher 
 or physician or chief of industry or artisan or hodcarrier will re- 
 ceive a day's labor lor a day's labor, by which I understand you 
 to mean a day of common labor for a day of common labor. But 
 how is such a comparison of common labor (of a day of the hod- 
 carrier's labor for instance) to be made with skilled labor or 
 professional labor with perfi-ct justice to all? And who are the 
 persons who are to be intruste 1 with such a delicate and dic- 
 tatorial function? You Socialists seem to treat this important 
 matter with too great llippancy. Such a gradation of labor is, 
 in fact, entirely visionary, and that is enough to relega'.eyour 
 Cooperative Commonwealth into the realm of Utopia." 
 
 Hold on, sir! The New Order will, 6?/ wo mea/is, hinge up- 
 on this matter. It will be realized, because Nature ordains it, 
 because at a certain point in time, SociQly icill have to realize it ^ 
 or decay. 
 
 And when we shall have arrived at that crisis, we hope, that 
 the leaders of the Revolution will not be such visionaries as 
 to commence by trying to do i)er/ect justice to any body. They 
 will know better, than to assume to themselves the attributes 
 of gjds. They will, we hope, be practical men who simp- 
 ly try to be as just as they can be, consistently with the best 
 
148 SOCIAL ECONOIMT. 
 
 interests of the whale. Anil we think, that tlioy can n.>t hot- 
 ter show their practical co n non S3:ise. than by adoptino^ the 
 gradation already mad?, that is, by retainin':^ for an unlimited 
 period tlici ratio of wa<^es which, at the time of the change, 
 will obtain in the v<irians branches of muiual wark and for 
 the different qualities of woi'k ueii. This ratio will furnish 
 theju a sufficiently accurate " gradation of laboi*." 
 
 'J"o go a little into details: Suppose they go to work and 
 establish, first of all. a normal daj', say. of eight hours, and 
 l)ay the w.>rkers twice the wages wiiieli eaeli one has been 
 receiving, on an average, for the ten years im ne;liately pre- 
 ceeding. We have no doubt, that the wages can be raised and 
 th 5 working day shortened tlvit much with perfect safety, con- 
 sid '.ring the enorn )ns aJvantages of Cooperative Industry, 
 which we dwelt up^n in i\\i prcee li.ig chap:;er. Anyway, a 
 few m uitlis experience will teach them, whether they have 
 raised the wages too much, or not higli enougli. 
 
 And please bear in mind that the members of each branch 
 of industry and every calling will settle that matter of renm- 
 neration for tliemselves. They will be entitled as a body to the 
 proceeds of all the labor they havecmbodie 1 i i the product they 
 create, and that they distribute a nong themselves just as they 
 please — subject to appeal to the Connion wealth as Arbitrator. 
 Dr. Green, the Pres'dent of the We^tu-u Union, is re[>orted to 
 have remarked in his evidence before a Senate-Committee: 
 '^ I shall never agree that the operators should have, or b«dieve 
 they had, the power of iixing their own salaries." They 
 nevertheless will have that power sometime, doctor, as sure as 
 the world moves I 
 
 15nt in regard to the work of the chiefs of industry and pro- 
 fessionals they, undoubtedly, will institute a new '"gradation of 
 l;ibor." There will be no more $53,033 or $23,033 or even $10, 
 003 salaries paid. These fancy salaries are )iow possible, and 
 now considere^l prop.-r. only, because large fortunes can at 
 preseiic be made in what is known as **■ business." When* •bus- 
 iness"' is done away with ; then their services will be compared 
 witii manual work, as they ought to be. and be paid for accor- 
 dingly. 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 149 
 
 Tliat constitutes one of the points, in which our postal sys- 
 tem is not yet sociahstic. In th ^ Cooperative Comaionwoalth, 
 the Postmaster General will not receive $10,003 while letter 
 carriers mnst be satisfied with $800. 
 
 Of course, in instituting the new '• gradation " in the labors of 
 the teacher, the doctor, they will make allowance for the many 
 yeai's of stud}' these men have needed t3 proparly qvialify 
 themselves, liut Ju?t i;i the sam3 way th3 watchmakers la- 
 bor will be, and is, rated above thatof thehodcarrier, because 
 h\!> years of apprenticeship m ust bo compensated for. It means 
 simply, that botii professional and skilled labor is multiplied 
 common labor. 
 
 Do not here object, that if the rewards of captains of in- 
 dustries and of the professions are th'is reilnced to a level with 
 manual labor, men of genius and of natural gifts will then 
 part with the manag Miient of affairs and with the professions. 
 
 Thc}^ will not, unless you also can siiow, that they, also, 
 will leave the world on that account. 
 
 Tney will find their ulterior reward in the zest of intellectu- 
 al activit3\ the joys of creative genius, the honor of directing 
 afiiiirs and the social distinction they will enjoy. 
 
 Do not object, either, that sueh a cojipensatio.i runs counter 
 to the Socialist principle, that everyone is entitled to the full 
 proceeds of his own labor; that, therefore, a manager who by 
 his skill causes a factory to earn §100,000 may claim that 
 amtjtint as his reward. 
 
 A man is entitled to the full proceeds of his labor — against 
 any other individual, but not against Society. Society is not 
 bound to reward a man either in proportion to his services, 
 nor yet of his wants, but according to expediency; according 
 to the behests of her own welfare. Man's work is not a quid 
 pro quo but a trust. The other construction would lead to the 
 absurdity, that no existhig fortunes could give any idea of the 
 monstrous accumulation of riches of the heirs of a Ivepler or 
 a Newton, or still more of a Robert Fulton, a Watts or a Alorse, 
 if these men could have claimed all the results of their inven- 
 tions. 
 
 It will thus be seen, that the labors of tliose invested with 
 
150 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 
 
 the " clolicate" function of apportionin;? the rewards— who 
 these persons are likely to be we shall consider in the eii^^hth 
 chapter — will not be so very herculean, for the first f^enerarion. 
 at least; nor need these persons be at all "dictatorial." We 
 do not call our Compress •• dictatorial," when it fixes the sal- 
 aries of the President or of Jndi^es. 
 
 This will be the c^lorious achievement of the Cooperative 
 Commonwealth; that the whole proceeds of Labor will be dis- 
 tributed, exclusively, a nin:^ those who do the labor. But 
 what needs to be impressed upon Socialist workmen especial- 
 ly, is : that common prudoice should make them turn the cold 
 shoulder to the idea of ?VZea77>/ just wages, and on the other 
 hand, make them satisfied with the present ratio of wac:es^ 
 at all events till a more perfect, and at the same time expedi- 
 ent gradation of labor has been perfected. 
 
 When the Cooperative Cominonwoalth has worked for a 
 couple of generations; when the student and the watchmaker 
 are supported by the State during their years of study and 
 apprenticeship and furnished all appliances i-equisite to their 
 training, then another rule may obtain. Then, perhaps, as 
 some Socialists now contend, one hoiu" of the teacher's work 
 and one hour of the hodcarrier's work will be ])ald for alike — 
 tliougli it must be observed, that/, i. in difficulty the teaclier's 
 work does not at all resemble the work of the hod-arrier — 
 but to speculate upon that in our generation can properly be 
 termed •'Utopian." 
 
 Ft is worth while for workingmen to study the case of the 
 tailoi- a>sociat'on, founded by Louis Blanc at Clichy in 1848, 
 which had to give up equal pay. 
 
 We now, la«;tly, come to the greatest economic achievement 
 of the Coming Commonwealth. Our definition said, that its 
 citizens would be, consciously and avowedly, i)ublic function- 
 al ies. That, alone, is an object worth striving for, worth dy- 
 ing for. 
 
 When reformers call our workingmen " white slaves" and 
 speak of their condition as " slavery," many well-meaning per- 
 eons <leem these terms extravagant and attribute them to dem- 
 
SOCIAL ECONOMY. 151 
 
 agojj^ism. "Row, in all <?oberness. are they extravagant? 
 
 Wo. shall entirely on)it any reference to extreme case5 of 
 oppresssion on the part of employers towards their employees, 
 and eonfine onrseives to wliat all wage- workers mnst snbmit 
 to — whether they he mechani(;s, clerks or telegraph-operators. 
 And let us remark that here, as wherever we have spoken of 
 " wage-workers," we have excluded and do exclude domestic 
 servants of every sort. We have already seen that these 
 workers are obliged to go into the general market with their 
 labor, which is their ware, and there sell it for a price, vibra- 
 ting now a little above, now a little below, what is necessary to 
 their subsistence. 
 
 Now, what does this " selling their labor" amount to? 
 
 We know a man who, though he is far from being a Robert 
 Owen, may very well in regard to sincerity, kindness and ha- 
 tred of all shams be compared to that philanthropist. He was 
 a prominent Abolitionist, but is not particularly averse to the 
 present Industrial system, which, indeed, has enabled hira to 
 gather in quite a respectable fortune by the simple process of 
 buying and selling. We think he is a good sample of the best 
 kind of employers. To his clerks he is fond of remarking: 
 '•Your time is mine, you know" and he puts this tlieory into prac- 
 tice to its fullest extent. If any one should suggest to him that 
 he, the model of an employer, was a — slaveholder, ( !) he 
 would be very much surprised. 
 
 Yet what does this phrase imply? "Your time is mine" 
 means " your body is mine, your actions are mine for so many 
 hours out of the twenty four. You must do nothing, say noth- 
 ing, go nowhere as yon please but as / please. / want you to 
 do this thing now,or," of course it is understood. " I discharge 
 you." Ills clerks are subject to his indivi lual. irresponsible will : 
 their preferences are not so much as thouirht of. 
 
 What in the name of reason is that but slavery? Was not 
 " your time is mine " the ver}'^ ess<^nce. the definition of negro- 
 slavery? True, a master could sell his slave; but there cer- 
 tainly were many masters who did not dream of ever selling 
 their negroes; were these therefore loss slaves? True, a mas- 
 ter could whip his slave ; but our employer can discharge his 
 
152 SOCIAL ECONOMT. 
 
 clerks whenever it takes his fancy. whJcli probably would Jj.ive 
 worse consequences for the clerks than a whipping wouhl. 
 The fact is. tliese were mere accessories. Slavery is not yrt 
 ahoUshed. 'I'he very principle, subjection, which ruled under 
 ancient shivery, under serfiii^e, and negro slavery, rules yet 
 under tlie w\age-systeni. Tliat makes the system essentially 
 immoral ; it demoralizes the employer as well as tlie em- 
 ployee. 
 
 And this relation becomes absolutely unbearable, if, as very 
 often is the case, the employee has more knowledge, more 
 brains, a fuller head, in short, than his employer — for it has 
 rightly been said that all that is necessary to success in busi- 
 ness is •' great concentration, continuous application and an 
 absurdly exaggerated idea of one's own importance"' — it is unbear- 
 able, when the employee feels that in a social system where 
 position depended upon merit he would be the one in authority. 
 
 There is no halting place between Subjection and Inter-de- 
 pendence. Independence cannot be had for all. The em- 
 ployer we referred to boasts of being independent. The trouble 
 is he is too independent : one man cannot be independent, with- 
 out making others dependent on him. The wage-sj'stem is 
 only Subjection in a milder form, perhaps; another instance 
 of the chronic hj-pocrisy of our age. That is shown yovj well 
 by the constant talk about the relation of the wage-workers 
 being one of contract. Well! if it is, it is a very one-sided 
 contract, one where the employee has but to say •" Amen." 
 By selling his labor the lucge-worker virtually sells himself. 
 
 The Cooperative Commonwealth will abolish slavery by the 
 roots by raising all private employments to the dignity of pub- 
 lic fimctions. 'J'his change, while it will not essentially alter 
 the existing mode of exercising them, will yet alone transform 
 their general spirit, for it will forever, ^r.^i, do away with De- 
 pendence of one individual upon another; next., take awiy 
 from those in authority the irresponsible power of Discharge, 
 and. lastly., relieve the worker from the necessity of going in- 
 to the market and selling himself as a ware. 
 
 Do not, however, suppose, that there will be no subordina- 
 tion under the new order of things. Subordination is an ab- 
 
SOCIAL ECONOIHT. 153 
 
 solute essential of Cooperation; indeed. Cooperation is Disci- 
 pline. 
 
 Do not suppose, either, that Demand and Supply will cease 
 altoi^ether to have an inflnence on Labor. As a natural force, 
 it will exert itself whonevor it gets a chance, but the coni- 
 ino: Common^vealth will see to it that, whenever it does act. it 
 acts beneficently. We shall see li^ra in what manner. 
 
 It is as we have stated, for the Commonwealth to determine, 
 in its character of Statistician, how much of a given ]u-odnct 
 shall be ]iroduced the coming year or season. That is pre- 
 emin'^"^*"ly its sphere, however much the workers of the differ- 
 ent branches will otherwise be left to manage their own affairs. 
 huppose in a given industry production will hav^e to be narrow- 
 ed down to one half the usual quantum. It follows, that in 
 such case the workmen can only work half the usual time and 
 that th(!re will only be one half the usual proceeds to be dis- 
 tributed among them. 
 
 What must be the result? Evidently the men's remunera- 
 tion will have to be reduced one half, or a corresponding num- 
 ber of workers will have to pass over to some other employment 
 — for the consequences of such a disorder, Avhich may be Dcr- 
 manent and is not the result of either miscalculation or misfor- 
 tune, will, certainly, not be borne by Society at large; and the 
 Commonwealth, while it guarantees ftuUahle employment, can 
 certainly not guarantee a ^^ar^zcif/a?* employment, to cveiy- 
 body. 
 
 A change of occupation, however, will in that Commonwealth 
 be tolerably easy for the worker, on accomit of the high grade 
 of general education, and because all will have passed through 
 a thorough apprenticeship in general meclianics. Certain crit- 
 ics of Socialism object that no person under it will have any 
 effective choice in regard to emplo3'ment. The above shows 
 how little foundation there is for such a criticism. r>nt we 
 should like to know how much '•• effective choice '' the vast ma- 
 jority of men now have in regard to employment or wages, or 
 place of abode or anything else. 
 
 Another critic once remarked to the writer in regard to the 
 Commonwealth absorbing all social activities ; *■' What a tyr- 
 
154 SOCIAL ECONOMY. 
 
 anny, to foibkl a Meissonier to paint a little bit of canvass anrl 
 sell it for .^100.000. if anyone would buj- it?" Why, it would 
 be t3'rann3'^ to forbid it. And we liave no reason to think it 
 will ])e forbidden. We therefore also said that there mif^lit 
 be citizens who would acfjuire labor-checks by parting with 
 something valuable to other citizens. But, really, we do not 
 Kuppose there will be any citizen in The Cooperative Common- 
 wealth, wlien some time has elapsed, who has got $100,000 to 
 squander on a bit of canvass, and none should deplore it, for 
 if that fact would deprive the Commonwealth of Meissoniers^ 
 it surelj'" will not rob it of liaphaels or Michael Angelas. It is 
 just one of the curses of this age that it has out of artists made 
 lackeys of the lich. Phidias, Raphael, Michael Angelo, min- 
 istered to the People. 
 
 We now shall consider how it is possible to have due subor- 
 dination in a State where all dependence of one individual 
 upon another is destroyed. The political expression of Inter- 
 dependence is — Democracy, 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DEMOCRACY VerSUS PAETY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 " ' Behold I Now I, too. have my twenty-thousandth part vi 
 a Talker in our National Palaver.' — What a noiion of Lib- 
 ert}^ I" — Carlyle. 
 
 '' I believe that party, instead of being a machinery neces- 
 sary to the existence of free j::overnnient. is its most dano^er- 
 ous foe, and that in order to ^et anytliinji which really de- 
 serves the name of repnbiican governnient, we must destroy 
 party altogether.-' — A True liepublic by Albert Stickney. 
 
 '•Nay, m ist we not rather confess, that that unlovely crca- 
 tnro. the habitual othoe-seeker, is as natural a product of onr 
 political and social conditions as the scrub-oak is of the soil, 
 when it has been laid waste b}'- the removal of the primeval 
 forest?" — Bichard Grant White^ N. A. Beview^ July 1882. 
 
 At this stage, certainly — and probably as soon as the idea of 
 Collective Control of all the affairs of the Natiou was broached 
 — mau}'^ an inquirer exclaims with supreme disgust : 
 
 "■ So you actually propose to increase the spoils of office a 
 hundred, yea a thousandfold ! What a bedlam you would make 
 of these United States at election times !! ! And then noth- 
 ing short of a revolution would ever suffice to dislodge the 
 party in possession of the government, however much it 
 may have mismanaged public affairs. VVhy, this is enough to 
 prove the Utopian nature of your scheme I" 
 
156 DEMOCRACY VCi'SllS TARTY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 Wait a moment, friends. We have so far only shown j'-ou 
 the front-view of our Commonwealth, its economic side. Your 
 objections would be unanswerable and j'our disgust in order, 
 if the Socialist Rerjime implied tlie retention of our present 
 political machinery. 
 
 •We insist on 2^ political change hand in hand with the econ- 
 omic change. AVe Insist on new machinery for the new mo- 
 tive power; on new bottles for the new wine. Our political 
 program is just as vital a part of our prospective Common- 
 wealth as our economic program is. The political machinery 
 of our country would be most clumsy and unsuitable to the 
 workings of the New Order. It would of necessity have to 
 be discardtd tor something more suitable, just as the young 
 man has to discard the clothes of his boyhood which he has 
 outgrown. 
 
 This frank avowal will, undoubtedly, hurt more prejudices. 
 than even our economic ideas did. 
 
 '* What! do you. Socialists, dare to think of laying your im- 
 pious hands on this glorious Constitution of ours? What a 
 sacrilege! " 
 
 Softly! Listen to the following: 
 
 '* 'J'he idea that some men now iiold. that this Constitution 
 is the one perfect piece of political machinery that the world 
 has ever seen, is a weak growth of later 3-ears. The men of 
 1787 knew better. No one of them thought it the best form of 
 govermnent that could be devised. Tt was the only form on 
 whicli they could then agi-ee. They began an experiment — 
 we have its results. Is it possible, that from those I'csults we 
 can learn nothing? And ai-e we forever to use the machinery 
 of a past age. throwing away all the teachings of later years? " 
 
 lie who wrote those sentences is no Socialist. He is an 
 America! to tlie manor born, and a matter-of-fact lawyer. 
 His name is All)ert Stickney, author of •• A True Republic,'' 
 published by the Harpers. His 4th and Gth Chapters ought 
 to be read by every inquirer as an introduction to the politi- 
 cal ideas of Socialists. The fact of Sticknoy being a lawyer 
 makes him exceedingly keen in exposing the defects in our 
 political machinery, while his practical commonsensc, in 
 
DEMOCRACY VevSlCS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 157 
 
 VN'liich lie shows liimself a typical American, renders biin one 
 of the best advocates we coiilil h;ive As Ricardo pi-epared 
 the way for oiir analysis of our present economic relations, and 
 Spencer tor constractive Socialism, so Stickney performs 
 that service for us with our countrymen in regard to the po- 
 Mtical changes which we contemplate. 
 
 In the two chapters we have called attention to he discuss- 
 es first, with a wealth ot illustr;ition, the evils and abuses of 
 party-rule as we have it here. If that were all, he woidd not 
 have done anything extraordinary. Most people admit these 
 evils. But most uien, also, think them mere accidents of the 
 time and that they are far outweighed by the good results 
 wh"ch party brings. Stickney's merit consists in showing, 
 that parties — by which term must always be understood perma- 
 neut parties — have no good results at all, and that it is our 
 frame of governmpnt ivhich is responsible for those evi/s. 
 
 He says very pointedly : 
 
 '• When we said (as we did in effect in our Constitution.) all 
 public servants shall depend for kee])ing their offices, not on 
 whether they do their work well or ill. but on carrying the next 
 election, then, instead of giving them each a separate interest 
 to do his own work well, we gave tliem all on(^ common in- 
 terest to carry the nexc election. We made it certain, that they 
 would combine and form parties, for the purpose of carrying 
 elections. 
 
 '• But there was another point. The knowledge which all 
 men had, that at the end of a fixed time there would be a 
 large number of vacancies, made it certain, that other men 
 wiio were not in office would combine for the purpose of get- 
 ti!ig out the men who were in office, and getting in them- 
 selves. The term-system was certain, then, to create two 
 great parties for the purpose of carrying elections. The men 
 who were in formed a party to keep office. The men who were 
 out formed a party to get office. 
 
 ••Whether they wished it or not, our public servants were 
 driven by this point in our system of government to make 
 this work of carrying elections tlieir regular profession; In 
 that profession they gained g;^'eat skill. In that work they 
 
J 58 DEMOCRACY VCTSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 were pure to liave more skill tliim the ordinary citizens wliO 
 gave tlieii- time and thought to other things. The profession- 
 al rr list alvva3's beat th*e amateur. * * * 'J he natural and cer- 
 tain result was that party leaders, for part}^ purposes, con- 
 trolled t:u' elections of public servants, and the action of pub- 
 lic servants after they were elected." 
 
 lint enough of quotation. Stickney comes to the conchision 
 that the ^e/;yi-systeni will have to be abolished; but the term 
 system is llie very corner-stone of om- ••Constitution." 
 
 That is eertuinly a V( i y vigorous way of questioning that 
 instrument — especially for an American lawyer. 
 
 We shall have to be broader in our criticism than Stickney 
 (though wo can hardly be said to be more radical,) for the 
 objective points at which lie and we aim are rather different. 
 lie wants a nmchinery which shall insure good work in the 
 affairs with which government is now charged. We want a 
 machineiy lit to transact all the affairs (>f the Nation. 
 
 Tlie New Order cannot use a machinery which allows the reigu" 
 ing X)art>j.to be master of the situat on. 
 
 Now the successful par^// appoints the people's rulers, and 
 all public affairs are conducted with m, view to party interests. 
 
 For as Stickney remarks : 
 
 '•The people on the day of election have at most t!ie 
 choice between two men or sets of men; and with the point 
 who these two sets of men are to be the people at large 
 have little or nothing to do. It may be said, that tlie 
 people can have something to do with the selection of the 
 candidates However that may be, it is the fact, that they do 
 not, and we are here considering the way onrsystemrcally worLs.''* 
 
 No one will deny that all our elective olffcers, from head to 
 foot, are elected, not by the peoi)le, but by the caucus of the 
 party which happens to be successful. And the caucus or con- 
 vention is simply an irresponsible gathering of men whom sel- 
 fish interests draw and bind together. Listen to the "N. Y. 
 Tribune, " now a good party-organ : 
 
 •• The Uepnblican vote 1. 1 this city (Xew York) two years 
 ago was 81,730. It is the simple truth to say that not more 
 
DEMOCRACY VeVSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 159 
 
 than fifty men had anythhig to do with the actual choioo ot 
 the delegates who went to Saratoga (18S2) with a pretence 
 of representnig the great body of vot ts." 
 
 Next, official action has ever since Thomas Jefferson found- 
 ed the first opposiiion party, been directed to the service of 
 party interests instead of the people's interests. Our oliicials 
 are and must be pliant men ; if not, they are driveii from pub* 
 lie life; these are matters of notoriety. Even sucli an honest 
 man as Lincoln had to make scandalous appointments. His 
 Secretary of the Interior declared, that, if he dared, he could 
 run his department with half his force of clerks and for half 
 its cost. Such another would-be-honest president as Hayes 
 had to pay for electoral votes with the people's oflices. 
 
 Our institutions, instead of subserviiig public interests, are 
 political /oriresses. ''Think what is at stake this fall — a total 
 of two hundred and thirty places in the county of Oneida !'"' ex- 
 claimed a Utica paper during a late election. And yet people 
 who superciliously call Socialism a Utopia imagine that an act 
 of Congress can give us civil service reform ! Do they really 
 believe that figs will grow on thistles? 
 
 No, attend for once to the essentials: destroy these parties 
 which at present are the people's masters ; which, as Srickney 
 so abundantly proves, in a normal State are unmitigated evils 
 and these trifles are certain to right themselves. But please 
 distinguish between combinations of men for the purpose of 
 carrying measures — which always will exist — and our perma- 
 nent parties, standing parties as they may be called. In our 
 party contests men do not battle for measures, they fight for 
 candidates. '' Our parties do not elect men to put into action 
 certain principles; they use principles as battle-cries to elect 
 certain men." Take a glance./, i. through the socalled •• po- 
 litical records" of Harper's Magazine. We find from first to 
 last, nothing, absolutely nothing, but the names of men and 
 the oflices for which they, respectively, have been nominated 
 or elected. " Pohtics," then, from being the Science of Gov- 
 ernment has become— Cooperative Office-seeking ! 
 
 It was wise to form a party as a necessary oi-gan of j.-sist- 
 ance to negro-slavery. But when that object was gained, ther 
 
IGO DEMOCRACY VevSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 the need of party was gone; from that moment the liepnbli- 
 can party became nothing bnt a faction, stuffed full with 
 dolhirs. 
 
 T/i(i Xcw Order cannot use a machinery which renders our leg- 
 islators the people's masters and allows them to conduct public 
 aifaif!! with a view to private and class interests. 
 
 Our history furnishes some signal instances ia point. The 
 people have quite frequently demanded the resignation of their 
 rppresentatives; State legislatures have demaiid(>d it of their 
 senators — instances tln^refore where there could be no doubt 
 of the identity of the constituency — and what has been the 
 answei '? 
 
 " You have no business at all to demand my resignation. It 
 is absolute piesumption in j-ou to do so.'' 
 
 A perfectly correct answer according to our constitution. 
 They might with perfect propriety, constitutionally speaking, 
 have added ; "You call yourselves Sovereigns, and verily think 
 yourselves such. Deluded Nobodies that j''ou are I You were 
 Sovereigns the moment you elected me, but in doing so, you 
 ^bdiciited in favor of me. Please wait <t.ill my term is out. 
 nil then I am the Sovereign. Then j-'ou can once more call 
 yourselves " Sovereigns" for a moment in order to elect some 
 other Master over you." 
 
 Is not that literally true? — And yet our Government is called 
 a Democracy ! 
 
 We, with Stickney, propose to put an end to this «6n)»-sys- 
 tem, but we go fiuther and say that the whole system of rep^ 
 resentation is unlit for a higher civillzalion. 
 
 Is not Carlyle perfectly right when he sneers at that kind of 
 *' liberty " which consists in having, as a voter has in our coun- 
 try, a fort)'- thousandth part of a Talker in our '• National Pa- 
 laver?" And even that Talker, tliough ho, is called my repre- 
 sentative, may not, to that inllnitesimal fraction represent rue. 
 That is a nice sort of " representative," against wliose election 
 1 voted and i)erh:ins worked. No niatler! by voting ar all [ 
 express my willingness to subit.it to a possible or i)rol)able nii- 
 jority against me. But 1 should haM3 had to submit, if 1 had 
 
DEMOCRACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERNIMEXT. 161 
 
 vot. voted at all; so whether I vote against him or not at all^ 
 'hat man is still my "'representative I " 
 
 Very many schemes for doing away with this monstrous fea- 
 ture have been propounded, preeminently that of the English- 
 man Ilare, which is almost perfect in its way. but which is ab- 
 sokitely impracticable, as long as we have standing parties. 
 
 All these schemes, moreover, are in themselves failures, be- 
 cause they aim at giving tlieoretical improvement to that which 
 is fallacious in itself, for that is what representation is. 
 
 How can I say that what my representative will tomorrow 
 that I also will ? 
 
 '* Nice sovereigns ! " Rousseau said, " whose only function 
 in government is to obey." 
 
 The simple and plain fact is that our boast of *' self-govern- 
 ment " is mei'e cant ; the '* representative " or '•'' parliamentary " 
 government was not intended to represent the People, but is a 
 rude device for securing power to our leading classes', that is 
 why we find so man}- lawyers — the retainers of our Plutocracy 
 — in the legislative seats. Hence it is an essentially tempora- 
 ry exj)edient. 
 
 The New Order icill have no use for Presidents and Governors 
 tcho^for their term of office^ are masters of the situation. 
 
 Our President is, even when he rebels against his party, 
 excedingly powerful for mischief, at all events. But when 
 loyal to his paity lie is a veritable king^ a dress-coat-king, 'tis 
 true, but more powerful than any crowned king. 
 
 lie cannot declare war, but he can create one. He cannot 
 make treaties, but he can force them on the nation. He can 
 nullify the laws by his pardon. His will and temper is the 
 onlv rule for his veto power. He acts, Congress talks. He 
 hjjs a thousand means at his command to show favors to Con- 
 gressmen. He is every year for many months the uncontrolled 
 monarch of the country. In war he is almost absf lute. And 
 yet our country is called a Eepublic I — But then, it must be ad- 
 mitted that it was only an accident that made us a republic. 
 
 The Xew Order will know nothing of such an ofiice. 
 
 It will know nothing of it because, as Goldvviu Smith said 
 
162 DEMOCRACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 in Jill excellent article in the Atlantic Monthly for January 
 1879, entitled : '• Is Universal Suffrage a Failure? " 
 
 •it (the Presidency) is at once the grand prize and the 
 most powerful stimulant of faction." 
 
 Tlie Presidency is truly under our system "the grand prize" 
 that fosters an ambition which no citizen in a republic ought 
 to entertain and whicli has ruined the usefulness of so many 
 of our best men. 
 
 The Presidency is the cliief '*■ spoil " and source of other 
 spoils. We all remember the frankness of Flanagan in a late 
 National Convention : ''•What are we herefor if not the spoils? " 
 When the Cooperative Commonwealth abollslios tliis chief 
 spoil with all other spoils, and thus stops their pay, our stand- 
 ing parties will dissolve for want of cohesion, as standing 
 armies do. when their pay stops, 
 
 But what does this discarding of these prominent features 
 of our government mean? It means that the only political ma 
 chlnery lit for the Cooperative Commonwealth is Democracy, 
 
 For however hazy the meaning of that word is, nobody can 
 fairly object if we, temporarily, deline •* Democracy " as that 
 form of administration where no one of the publiu olflcers is 
 at any time the master of the situation; where, conseciuontly, 
 none of the public affairs can at any time be conducted tcith a view 
 to private or class interests. 
 
 The New Order will, further, discard the system of ap- 
 pointments /rom abovcs which is simply the principal means by 
 which our ruling classes exercise their power. 
 
 It will throw overboard the doctrine of the three ''coordinate" 
 powers; that is, the doctrine that the functions of govermnent 
 should be distributed among three departments: the legisla- 
 tive, executive and judicial, wholly iifdependent of, and yet 
 checking each other. 
 
 This doctrine amounts to this, tliat laws shoidd be enacted 
 in one spirit, interpreted in another, and executed in a third 
 spirit, which is preposterous, 'i'he theory of chef^ks and bal- 
 ances is one born of ])assions. engendered by struggle against 
 arbitrary power; wof one born of philosophical observations. 
 This fact was entirely misconceived by Montesquieu— that em- 
 
DEMOCRACY verSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 163 
 
 bodied Empiricism — and scrangely enough, also overlooked by 
 our practical forefathers, as noticed by Prof. Goidvvin Smith 
 in tlie article above mentioned. 
 
 The New Order will have no use whatever for a Senate. 
 
 It is useless. As Johu Stuart Mill remarks : '' In times of 
 violent excitement, the only times, when it might prodi c« 
 more good than harm, it is destined to become inoperative.*' 
 Those who object, that the one chamber system has always 
 been the forerunner of the usurper, seem never to have thought 
 of the circumstance.. that the usurper has always introduced the 
 two-chamber system. With the ISational Senate will go the 
 doctrine of state-sovereignty, which, though decrepit, is not 
 yet dead. The doctrine is a relic of our infancy, when we were 
 small, undeveloped scattered communities such as all civilized 
 nations have started with. It is worthy of observation, that 
 dual sovereignty has been the historical development of Great 
 Britain, Germany, Sweden, Italy, Spain and France, as well 
 as our country. 
 
 The Cooperative Commonwealth will only know of a Nation, 
 with a big, very big N. Our present state-lines only M'ork mis- 
 chief. Parts of New Jersey and Delaware belong as nmch to 
 Philadelphia as any part of Pennsylvania does, and New Jer- 
 sey, llhode Island and Connecticut are far njore intimately 
 connected with New York city than is Western New York. 
 
 ''And when you. thus, have succeeded in doing away with 
 the Term System, the Representative System, the Presidency, 
 the three Coordinate Powers, the Senate. State Sovereignty and 
 Appointments from above — in short with our whole Consti- 
 tution, be good enough to tell us what other constitution 
 it will please your Cooperative Commonwealth to give us '* 
 
 An inquirer will very naturally, at this stage, ask some such 
 question. It would remind us, that we have not yet made our 
 fundamental position in regard to polit'cal changes clear. 
 
 Constitutions, are not at all things to b( given or taken away at 
 pleasure. 
 
 What is a Constitution? 
 
1G4 DEMOCRACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERKMENT. 
 
 When we speak of the Constitution of the solar pystem. we 
 mean by that term the attraction of tlie sun which so regulates 
 the movements of the pkinets that this movem(;nt cannot be 
 otherwise than what it is. When we i:i the same sense— the 
 proper sense — speak of the Constitution of a countrj', we do 
 not mean that piece of paper whicii is called a " Constitution," 
 but. the organic power that makes necessary the institutions 
 which we find. It is therefore a fundamental mistake to think, 
 that our country with her written '' constitution" occupies a 
 peculiar position. 
 
 Every country has and always had a constitution. A king 
 with an armj^ at his back is a large part of a constitution. The 
 motto of Louis XIV: '•^Uetat c''est moi"' ('• 1 am the State") 
 was as fully the constitution of Franco as any constitution she, 
 or any country, ever had. Tlie peculiarity of modern times con- 
 sists simply in a piece of paper, simply in the giving written ex- 
 pi-ession to the organic power. But if such a written *• constitu- 
 tion" does not correctly respond to this organic power — as 
 the '• constitutions " ot Frnnce during the Kcvohitiondid not, 
 and as the '' constitution " of the present German Empire 
 does not — it is not worth the paper it is written on. If it, on 
 the other hand, does so respond, it is like a swiftly tlj'ing buzz- 
 saw — dangerous to go too near to. 
 
 The short history of our own country, even, bears us out 
 in this view. Our present ••constitution" is a very different one 
 from wiiat it was in 1850. Tlie point of change was the 
 period when people prated about "'upholding the constitu- 
 tion." Whenever a " Constitution " needs being •' upheld," 
 it is going, or gone. During that period was promulgated 
 the "'DredSeot" decision, which, undoubtedly, was a cor- 
 rect '•'•constitutionar' decision. Yet it was but an idle breath, 
 or. if it had any effect, it was to m;ike our people, (so approv- 
 ingly styled •• a law abiding peopl.%") sul)vert the very "• con- 
 stitution," tliat was the sanction of the decision. 
 What was the matter? 
 
 The organic power in the Nation was simply changing. 
 J.Iai k I it was the Abolition of Slavery which amended our " cou' 
 
DEMOCRACY Vet'SUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 165 
 
 ftitiition,'''' emphatically not the amendments to the •" constiLiv 
 tution " which abolished Slavery. 
 
 Is this Socialist view of the ovi^anic law of acomitry not ini 
 more philosophic thau the vulgar one, held by onr 'states- 
 men" or even by such an eminent anthoritv as Judge Story, 
 who reduces the wnole science of government to — a eulogy 
 of the •' Constitution? " 
 
 It remains true, reader ! No army of lawyers, nor of soldiers, 
 can uphold a "' constitution," when the centre of gravity of 
 Society has changed its position. 
 
 Socialists, then. hav<^ no thought whatever of •• laj'ing im- 
 pious hands" on this glorious paper "• constitution" ot ours, 
 or of '" giving " to, or imposing upon, our country a new f ranife 
 of government of our own ; just as little as we fancy, that we 
 can change its economic conditions. 
 
 It is the Logic of Events that will accompash both these 
 changes. 
 
 But mark the radical difference between the economic and 
 the political revolution. 
 
 The economic relations of the Cooperative Commonwealth 
 will evolve out of our present industrial conditions, as we at- 
 tempted to show in the preceding chapters. But tiieform of 
 administration of that Commonwealth will not be an out- 
 growth of our present form of government. 
 
 It is true, that the political system we now are living under 
 is an outgrowth of our colonial system, but the representative, 
 parliamentary system (theonly one with whichour country in 
 her short liistory has been familiar, and which at present pre- 
 vails in a more or less developed form in all civilized countries 
 except Russia) is not an outgrowth of the feudal system, pre- 
 vailing during the Middle Ages, nor was the latter an out- 
 growth of the ancient forms of government. 
 
 For forms of governnj.ent are nothing hnt forms. They are not 
 the substance of society. They are only coats, that may. or may 
 not, fit the backs . Butthey are not the backs; economic con- 
 ditions are the backs. Or. to use the other appropriate tigine: 
 forms of governments are nothing but machineiy. but econo- 
 mic conditions are the steam, without which the machineiy 
 
ion DEMOCKACY Z^CrSMS TAKTY GOVERNMENT. 
 
 i.s useless. 
 
 It uill ])e seen from this, that those are egregiouslymistak'^il 
 who cliuri^e Sochillsts with liavini; a "'faith in the sovereii^n 
 power of political inachineiy." We helieve. on the contrary, 
 that forms of ii^overnments, in themselves, amount to noth- 
 iiig; that eivil li!)>irty. by itsf^lf, is hanlly w-^rth tlie trouble 
 of agitation, that political freedom won, nothing may yet be 
 won — bnt emptiness. 
 
 Wc believe, that economic and industrial relations are every- 
 thing, wherefore also we devoted the tirst six chapters to 
 them. Just as the steam-loom took the ])lace of the hand- 
 loom, and the steam-thrasher of the flail, when steam became 
 the motive power instead of human muscles, or as the man 
 must discard his boy's jacket, so we say the Cooperative (Com- 
 monwealth will have as it "'rows into existence to relegate 
 the whole machinery with which we are now familiar: Pres- 
 ident and Representatives and coordinate powers and state- 
 lines to the lumber-room of the past. 
 
 That is what this capitalist regime did as soon as it had grown 
 up to manhood. It dispensed as fast as it could with every 
 feature of the feudal system and substituted for it the sj'^stem 
 which allowed it to work to the best advantage, to-wit, the 
 representative system. 
 
 If. therefore, we want to form any conception of the political 
 or judicial administration of the Cooperative Commonwealth, 
 we must imagine this present ''constitution" of ours wiped 
 out. lirst of all. Our inquirer and those opponents of Social- 
 ism who call attention to the incompatibility between it and 
 our present frame of government, are therefore perfectly right : 
 The United States would, in truth, become a bedlam at election 
 times. 
 
 Wc hail it as a good sign, that an Amercan, lawyer like 
 Stickne}'-, and with him the whole new generation, is getting 
 into the habit of questioning even '' the wisdom of our t'nvo- 
 falhers." 
 
 Well, they were wise in their generation. They confornxMl 
 to the organic power of their day. Let ns and those who will 
 come immediately after us be as wise in our and their gtnu'r:.- 
 
DEMOCRACY VerSUS PARTY GOVERNMENT. 1G7 
 
 tions! At any rate we cannot help ourselves. Democracy {?, 
 ^'hat we are inevitably tending to. which will crnsh the JJe- 
 pnblican and " Democratic'' parties as easily as if they wer^ 
 eg-o^-shells. 
 
 And do not have any fear, that we shall then or ever be with- 
 out a constitution. No. not for one moment. The new con- 
 stitution will form itself as naturally as the ice forms upon the 
 water, when the freezing point is reached. 
 
 But we must now know, not alone wliat "Democracy" is not, 
 but what it is, and not so much, what the word means, but 
 what the thing really is wliich we have in mind when we pro- 
 nounce the word. 
 
 The word comes from the Greek word *' demos,'* which 
 means " the people.'' That gives us, however, just as poor 
 an idea of what •' Democracy.*' is, as the information that " Ev- 
 olution " is derived from a word that means '• to roll out '' en- 
 ables us to know what evolution is. That it is which has giv- 
 en us the definition found in dictionaries, that •• Democracy" 
 is '•government by majorities," government by " counting of 
 heads," as Carlyle has it. But government of majorities may be 
 just as '• undemocratic " as the rule of aiiy other class. 
 
 No, let us turn to the *'■ back" which the "' coat " is to fit. 
 
 We saw that the Cooperative Commonwealth will incorpor- 
 ate the whole population into Society. It will destroy classes en- 
 tirely. And with classes will go all '' rule." 
 
 The '"wliole people" does not want, or need, any ''govern- 
 ment'' at all. It simply wants administration — good adminis- 
 tration. 
 
 That will be had by putting every one in the position fo*" 
 which he is best fitted, and making everj-one aware of the fact 
 
 That is what Democracy means; it means 
 
 Administration by the Competent. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ADMINISTRATION OF AFFAIRS 
 IN THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 " Our self-government is amateur-administration, gcvern- 
 ment by amateurs.'' — Grveg. 
 
 *•'• The feeling of Equality is growing fast. It makes men 
 chafe more and more under tlu; personal i)0\ver of individuals, 
 on a political level with themselves. But tliey will submit 
 willingly to power that coukvs from above and is impersonal." 
 — Dr. Woolsey, Communism and Socialism. 
 
 "• In your trades-societies you have acquired the instinct of 
 trusting j'our leaders, of acting with decision, concentration 
 and responsinility. * * * The ma-s supplying breadth and en- 
 ergy of principle; your agents giving it concentiation and 
 unity. Let your watchword be : * Confidence in tried leaders! 
 Loyal cooperation each with ail! '" — Frederic Harrison., Order 
 and Progress. 
 
 We have now two definitions of Dcmoc.rary., * one negative, 
 the other allirmative, which together complete our conception 
 of a ^^oa'aZis^ Administration : thai of competent and qualified 
 
 ♦ It is annoying, that when we in our country use the word 
 *'' Democracy," we have to apologize for its del)as(Mn(Mit fiou) 
 being a])pr()priated by that i)arty of negations calling itself 
 •"the Demoeraiic Tarty," whose only adifmative principle is 
 the decrepit doctrine of ''' State-Rights." 
 
ADMINISTEATION. 1()0 
 
 functionaries, whose interest is entirely coincident with their (hity. 
 
 But ri<^ht hore we shall be challenged. It may be said that 
 this may be a good conception of a good administration, bUf 
 that it is not '' Democracy." Some will quote Frederic ll^r- 
 rison to the effect that -'Democracy exists Avhen each man 
 holds himself as wise a ruler as his fellow; where Govern- 
 ment is a scramble open to every glib talker."' Others thin v 
 with Carlyle that in a Democracy the people solve every prob- 
 lem by saying 'Met us take a vote'' and counting the heads. 
 Others, again, will point to the article bj-^ Jesse Jones on '*• the 
 Labor Question " which we in a former chapter mentioned with 
 approval, and remind us that Jones there takes for granted, that 
 our future economic system will conform to our primitive politi- 
 cal system; that is, assumes that all affairs willbe conducted on 
 the ''town-meeting "-plan. " What is that." they will ask, 
 "but the Abomination of Frederic Harrison and Carlyle?" 
 
 This is a perfectly fair objection, to which we shall give an 
 answer that cannot possibly be misunderstood. If the '* town- 
 meeting-plan," if that which Frederic Harrison. Carlyle and 
 Jesse Jones agree in calling '• Democracy " is properly named 
 by thera, then we inust find another name for the Administration 
 of Public Affairs under the New Social Order. The object of 
 Chapter VII was not so much to show that our present 
 form of government, our written '' constitution." is un-demo- 
 cratic. as to point out that it is utterly unfit to furnish a good 
 administration of the people's affairs. The object of this Chap- 
 ter, in the first place, is to suggest the machinery that we have 
 reason to assume will be adopted to carry on all the affairs of 
 the Coming Commonwealth. This is the important matter 
 for consideration, which we shall not allow to degenerate into 
 a dispute about words. Yet, we shall also claim, that the Ad- 
 ministration of the Future has an eminent, pei'haps an exclu- 
 sive, right to the name of " Democracy ; " but that is a subor- 
 dinate matter. 
 
 The " town-rneeting " plan, the plan of "counting heads," 
 will evidently be wholly unsuitable in the Cooperative Com- 
 monwealth. If our public affairs now have altogether out- 
 grown that primitive plan, how much more when '• public af- 
 
170 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 fairs" will mean all affairs, with indusLrial affairs in tlie fore- 
 ground? No argument sliOLild really be needed to convince 
 aayboily. that a Xation that conducted all its affairs as Jones 
 will have them conducted would very soon become bankrupt. 
 
 But this, that such an Administration as we have indicated 
 in our delinition will be the yavy one needed is not all: it will 
 bo the very one which the future Constitution — real constitu- 
 tion — of Society will necessitate- 
 
 We have already emphasized as much as we could, that the 
 great achievement of tlie Coming Commonwealth will be to 
 incorporate the whole population into Society', to shift the 
 <'enire of Gravity of Society, to make the Working- Glasses 
 the organic power of Society. Th« great body of our people 
 are manifestly dictated to as much as any other people. 
 Though legally, that is, theoretically, tin; people here are 
 governors, practically they have no more power over leg- 
 islation than they have over Crises, over Production or Com- 
 merce. And the reason is, simplj^, that the Working-Classes 
 have not yet got the real social power, for whatever is the 
 strongest power in Society is the governing authority. 
 
 Well, all the evidence we now possess tends to prove that 
 the Working-Classes, when they once become the organic fonre 
 in the State, will favor such an Administration as we have de- 
 lined. 
 
 Study the Trades-Unions here and those of England and learn 
 from them, how workingmen go about their own affairs. Have 
 tiic members of these Unions ever shown any anarchic spirit? 
 Amongst the many things that have been said of and against 
 them, have they ever been charged with evincing an}- instinct- 
 ive thii'st for each man iiavinghisown wa}-?— which is the spirit 
 of Anarcliy. Is it not. contrariwise, ti ue, that they always 
 liave been willing to acknowledge that some were wiser than 
 themselves, and that, when they thought the}' had hit ui)on 
 th(; light leaders, they have been willing to thrust their whole 
 collective power into their hands'? In short, is it not true. 
 Wiiat Fn^deric Harrison says of them, that ''they trust their 
 leaders and act with decision, concentration and responsibil- 
 ity.^' 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 171 
 
 Now, these "Working-Clrisses, who represent so to speak, 
 the whole social body, of which the other classes only are 
 special organs, will decide what the Administration of the Fu- 
 ture is to he. 
 
 VVe avoid, purposely, saying that they will liavetliepoZiYicaZ 
 power, for ••political" power, ••Politics" ••Politicians" will 
 be unknown terms under the New Order. 
 
 Political power is, fundamentally, nothing hut the organized 
 power of classes, or men, or sets of men, to '• govern " others ; 
 that is, to dictate to them what they shall do and what they 
 muse not CIO. In our Commonwealth, where there will be no 
 •' classes " at all, there will be no set, of men who can by •• sov- 
 eign authority" dictate to the re-t of the Nation, but every 
 citizen will actually perform his appropriate share of the ad- 
 ministration. 
 
 Again, the terms '•' State " and '• Society " are now apart in 
 speech^ because they are in fact apart. But under the New so- 
 cial System they will, as we have seen, come to cover each 
 other, become synonymous. Between the economic and So- 
 cial organization, and the ••political" organization of the Fu- 
 ture State there will not be a particle of distinction. 
 
 Before we proceed to outline the Administration of the Fu- 
 ture we wish to repeat the warning that we gave, when the 
 economic features of the New Order were under discussion : 
 Socialists lay no claim to be''' architects," hence do not insist upon 
 details from us! Speculations here in detail would be liable to 
 be far more Utopian than those in economic matters, since, as 
 we have seen, the administrative featuresof a given society are 
 bu the ulterior results of its economic relations. We can, 
 ho\i ;ver, pretty safel}^ predict that the following features will 
 take the place of those we have discarded. 
 
 Appointments will he made from below. This is the second re- 
 spect in which our Post Office Department is not a socialist 
 ir.stitution — the other respect, as will be remembered, was the 
 discrepancy in salaries. At present the Postmaster-General 
 or President appoints the postmasters, and they again their 
 subordinates and the letter-carriers. Under Socialism it will 
 
172 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 certainly be the reverse. There the letter-carriers will elect 
 their iininediate superiors; tliese, we will say. the postmasters 
 and these in their turn the Postmaster General. Why should 
 it not be so? 
 
 Are not the lett«M--carriers just as competent to elect their 
 superintendents as the Chief in Washington is to appoint the 
 postmaster of Boston? The qiialilications of an elector are 
 evidently these : a knowledge of the capacity of the candidate 
 for a given office and a knowledge of what the duties of that 
 office are (quite a different thing from a knowledge of how to 
 perform those chities.) Wiio possesses these qualilications in 
 a greater degreo tlian those who are to be his immediate sub- 
 ordinates, and who. perhaps, have worked with the candidate 
 throughout a series of years? 
 
 Understand! by appointment from below, we do not mean, 
 that/, i. the whole people of a city shall elect their postmaster. 
 Such a principle is altogether too much in vogue now. We 
 maintain exactly the revei-se of it : tluit a man is not qualified 
 to vote for a candidate whose qualifications he is ignorant of, 
 for an office the duties of which he is not acquainted with. 
 It will be admitted that it is quite a different proposition, that 
 the workers in a factory should elect their Foreman, teachers 
 their Superintendent &c. This is the only methotl by which 
 liannonious loyal cooperation of subordinates with superiors 
 can be secured. No one ought to be a superior who has not 
 the good will of those he has to direct. 
 
 Understand, also, that Appointment from below does not 
 necessarily imply liemoval from below. 
 
 Think but a moment over it, and notice the important and 
 beneficent results that will fiow from such a system. 
 
 We said that every citiz(ui would be actually a part of the 
 Administration. This that he will have a voice in the election 
 of his immediate superior, will be one way, and perhaps the 
 most important way, of being such part. That kind of Suf- 
 fr>jfje ivill be worth something. We have now cut what we call 
 ''' ])olitical power" into such little bits, that a single man's 
 share of it is hardly thought worth having iit all. But hi.^ 
 vote will count for something in a shop when a foreman is to 
 
or AFFAIES. 173 
 
 be elected ; will indeed, confer such a dignity on him. that he 
 will be a different man from the servile •• hand" of our pres- 
 ent Irresponsible autocrats. 
 
 Again, this system will furnish one of the securities for good 
 administration. It is not likely that under it there will any 
 Ic iiger be any " government by amateurs." Then the greatest 
 ability will in every sphere of activity in all likelihood gravi- 
 tate towards all positions of influence, (ju.-,t as we find it to be 
 the case in the English Trades-societies according to the most 
 competent authority) and the subordinates will he aware of the 
 fact. 
 
 Instead of any term of office, long or short, we shall have a 
 temire daring Good Behavior. 
 
 The directors of affairs will hold their offices as long as the 
 people's interests are best served by having them hold them, 
 hut not one moment heyond. They all, from Foreman up to the 
 Chiefs, will have to do good work, and will not stay in their 
 office one week, nny, not one day, if they fail in their duties, 
 i\y. if they fail to give satisfaction. Every such officer will be 
 held responsible, not for good intentions, but for accomplished 
 results. Of all causes for removal the best of all will be one, 
 Uiirecognized now, the misdemeanor of Failure. •' Good Be- 
 havior " will mean first of all : Efficiency. And as a very im- 
 portant part of the work of every officer will consist in over- 
 seeing others, lie will be held i-esponsible, if the work done 
 by those under him is not done well, lie will be driven to en- 
 force the utmost efficiency from every one of his subordinates. 
 His holding his place will depend on what they do, as much 
 as on what he himself does. 
 
 I'hls personal respousiblity and instant dismissal for failure 
 will permeate the wlioh service from lop to bottom. This is 
 ^^hat the Coojjerative Commonwealth will need, for as Stick- 
 ney well remarks : ^' If his future advancement (and we add : 
 the tenure of a functionary) depends on a king he will serve 
 the king; if oh party he will serve party; if only on doing 
 his work well, he will do his work well. It is no miracle. It 
 is nothing but a law of human nature." Which remark we 
 
174 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 coiuraeiid to our Utopian Civil-Service-Reformers who wish, 
 and no doubt sincerel}'^, to lefoiiu tb(; service in the sauK* di- 
 rection as Socialists do, but want to retain Party-^^overnnieiit. 
 
 But, on the other hand, when a good man has got into the 
 proper place and periornis liis work well, be will go on and 
 do it as long as be has a mind to stay. AVe have tried that 
 plan to some extent and we have bad some good results from 
 it. Everybody will aiUnit, that our judicial tenure of ollice 
 has had a great deal to do with the fact, that our judiciary has 
 been so pure and uncorrupted as has been the case — while the 
 greatest blot on its fair fame (the Electoral Commission busi- 
 ness of 1877) can be just as directly traced to the evil inllu- 
 ences of Party. The principal objection we have to our Judic- 
 ial Tenure is that '• Good Behavior"' means nothing but •* re- 
 maining raspecUihle.'''' In a Socialist Administration a judge 
 would not remain one day in office when he was notoriously 
 untit to i)erform bis duties, as was for years the case with 
 members of our National Supreme Couit. Again, whatever 
 opinion is entertained of the expediency of West Point and 
 our army, Socialists will cheerfully admit the high tnoraltone 
 of tbe Array Service — until lately, at any rate— compared with 
 our Civil Service, which is directly traceable to the secure ten- 
 ur<^ of office of the former. 
 
 The Directors of Affairs, fin-thermore. will be trusted with 
 all the power necessary to perform their work well. They 
 will not be hampered b}'' any petty technicalities. The peo- 
 ple will abstain from meddling with details, as long as the re- 
 sidts are satisfactory. Thai is the sensible practical method 
 which workingmen always adopt whenever they associate to 
 accom|)lish anything, as also is cxcniplifnd in the English 
 Trades-Unions. Workingmen know, that tbe direction of af- 
 fairs ought to be a function of the competent, as much as the 
 planning of a suspension bridge i.^, and not a play for num- 
 bers. They always, as Frederic Harrison puts it, ''put con- 
 lidence in tried leaders." 
 
 Some one may here object that when in that w^ay under So- 
 cialism all the high talent of the country is concentrated in 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 175 
 
 the Adiniiiistration, it will be exactly the '• Bureancrac}' " we 
 fincl in Prussia, Kussia and China. 
 
 It would indeed be a bureaucracy, if it were proposed that 
 our civil ofhcers under our present system should have a life- 
 tenure of their places. Bnt it will be quite a dljEferent thing, 
 wdien, as in the Cooperative Commonwealth every citizen has 
 a life-tenure so?7ieio7iere. and wdien ''good behavior" means 
 something else than not to commit an infamous crime. Is a 
 physician a bureaucrat? When a patient has found a good 
 physician he keeps him and follows his directions, and yet we 
 should say. that that patient's power over this physician is 
 not nugatory, though he does not direct what medicines shall 
 be administered. 
 
 Such a tenure during '•' Good Beliavior," as we have defined 
 it, will be another security for good administration. When- 
 ever the directors of affairs have such power us is their due, 
 when they are secure in their positions and permitted to do 
 the best they know how, we can be sure t() find merit in the 
 commanding positions, for it will ever remain true that the 
 direction of affairs has wonderful charms for all men who have 
 any gifts, fitting them for it. 
 
 Instead of representation ice shall have^ what is technically 
 called, the referendum. 
 
 I'y the '• referendum " is meant the submitting all bills of a 
 general nature to the people they are intended to affect, before 
 they have the validity of laws, as already exemplified for some 
 years past by Switzerland to some extent, both in national and 
 cantonal affairs. 
 
 We claim, that this feature represents exactly the function 
 which the people are fitted to perform and which it is every 
 way expedient they should perform. 
 
 They are peculiai ly fitted to perform this function of rati- 
 fying, or rather, of vetoing measures (with which our Presi- 
 dent and governors are at present and — as we contended in 
 the previous chapter — improperly entrusted) while they are 
 peculiarly unfitted for the function with which they are now 
 constitutionally invested : that of selecting men of whose qual- 
 
176 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 ilicatioiis they can know nothing for offices of the duties ol 
 wliich they are ignorant. 
 
 The people should leave the framing of laws to the wisest 
 and most competent. But because I should not attempt to 
 make my own shoes, since I am no shoemaker, that is no reason 
 why I should not decline to buy a certain pair of shoes which 
 the shoemaker has made. I need not be a shoemaker to know, 
 wlietiier the slioes pinch me or not. Exactly so with laws 
 and institutions. The people are amply qualified to say that 
 they ao not loant certain laws. 
 
 John S. Mill says in regard to representative bodies, that 
 their proper ofiice is '*' not to make law but to see them made 
 by the ri^ht persons, and to give or withhold its ratification 
 of them.'' '• Good sense" and "good intentions," the only 
 requisites for that function, we must assume in the body of 
 citizens or we must, indeed, despair of the Nation. 
 
 By the way. it was Robespierre — for whom, however, neither 
 the wi-iler of this nor Socialists generally have any great ad- 
 miration — who first proposed the referendum^ by advising the 
 king to say : "- My people, here are the laws I have made for 
 you ; will you accept them? " 
 
 The referendum is expedient, because the stability and good- 
 ness of all laws and institutions depend on their suitableness. 
 We have conqjared political institutions to coats that may or 
 may not fit the backs. The referendum will insure, that " the 
 coat will fit the ba(;k," in other words, that the measures adopt- 
 ed are commensurate with the development of the people. 
 If the coat does not fit, if a given measure does not suit them, 
 they will simply reject it. 
 
 It is expedient, because it and it alone will arouse and keep 
 alive in the people the interest in public affairs. 
 
 It is a notorious fact that the voters in our country and in 
 all countries are absolutely indifterent to— we may say truth- 
 fully, that they look with a sort of contempt on — the electoral 
 franchise; and the humbug of representation that we adverted 
 to in the preceding chapter is a sufficiently good reason. Vo- 
 ters will naturally remain indifierent, as long as a political cam- 
 paign means but a strife for candidates. Whenever they do 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 177 
 
 vote, they will continue to do so from the same reasons wliich 
 sololy influence tliem now. to-wit : habit, or the desire to ad- 
 vance a friend or a " hero," or the chance of fjjetttino^ a driiilc. 
 
 P»ut when tlie voters have measures before them, — not merely 
 general, and therefore vague, constitutional provisions, but 
 directs special measures — to discuss and tlien to ratify or reject, 
 it may fairly be expected, that they will take a considerable 
 and increasing interest i:i public affairs. Then, also, they will 
 verj"- likely come more and more to appreciate the fact, that 
 Suffrage is not a right at all — if it were, votes would, indeed, 
 be things to be sold or given away, at pleasure — but sl public 
 trust. 
 
 The referendum is expedient, because bills will then be intel- 
 ligently discussed before they become laws. We shall then 
 no more witness the indecency, that important laws the pro- 
 visions of which even often are unknown to the legislators 
 are enacted in the hurry of the last night of a session, under 
 the spur of the party whip. Then we shall no longer see huge 
 volumes of trash issuing yearly from legislative halls, but shall 
 have few. and none but necessary, laws. 
 
 "• But this is all nonsense to propose to get along without 
 representatives. The people of a large country, like that of 
 ours, cannot possibly pass upon all laws." 
 
 Yes, we know, that once upon a time somebody made a re- 
 mark of that kind, and that it has been echoed and re-echoed 
 ever since, llunianity does really resemble a flock of sheep 
 which are known to be so conscientious, that if you hold a 
 Stick before the wether so that he is forced to vault in his pas- 
 sage, the whole flock will do the like when the stick is with- 
 drawn. 
 
 Why cannot the people, even of so populous and extensive 
 a country as ours, vote upon all laws? Do not, as a matter 
 of fact, our people vote to reject or accept the constitutions of 
 their several states? Do they not practically vote for the Pres- 
 ident? What reason in the world is there, why they cannot 
 just as well vote upon a law as upon a constitution or upon 
 men? 
 
 And what reason is there for the people to have "represen- 
 
178 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 t.-itives" at all? True, they needs must liave men to direct af- 
 fairs and to do certain work for them. These men are their 
 a'jents for ceitiiin purposes, but in no sense thoir representatifrs. 
 It is tlieir fictitious "representative" character which permits 
 J*eiinsylvania legislators to drag along the scandalous extra 
 session and prevents their being kicked out of their seats ns 
 they ought to be. It is tiiis " representative" character th:it 
 is the father of all parliamentary nonsense, blundering work 
 and the *• practical politics" in which Garfield was such an 
 adept, and of which he fell such a signal victim. 
 
 Under the Socialist Regime the Administrators will form a 
 imrking Body, not a talldng Body. The people in their oriran- 
 ic capacity will watch, stimulate and control them but not 
 meddle with details. Their agents will have been put into the 
 positions they occupy, because they know better than anybody 
 else how to conirive the means and execute the measui-es de- 
 manded. They will administer the Nation's affairs as a pilot 
 directs and handles a ship, but the direction of the Ship of 
 State will be indicated by Public Opinion. 
 
 But the pertinacious curiosity of critics will, undoubtedly, 
 not be satisfied, before they have a sketch of such a Socialist 
 administration before them for examination. 
 
 Well, anybody can construct such an administration in his 
 imagination as well as we can, if he only will keep steadily 
 before him these three requirements : firsts that all appoint- 
 ments be made from below ; next. t\i\xt the directors stay in 
 office as long as they give satisfaction and not on<^ moment 
 beyond ; and. lastly^ that all laws and regulations of a general 
 nature must first be ratified by those immediately interested. 
 We have no better means of guessing how those who come 
 after us will construct their administrative machinery in de- 
 tail than anybody else; and modern Sociali^^ts are not fond of 
 laying down rules for the guidance of coming generations. 
 
 In order, however, to show that an administration without 
 President, without national or local '"debating societies" of 
 any kind is really possible, we shall «lraw such a one in out- 
 line; but please bcai in mind that Socialism must not be .uade 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 170 
 
 responsible for this fancj'^-sketeh of ours. We do this tne 
 more willingly, because, as our thoughtful readers must have 
 observed, there is one )n^h]_y important provision that we for 
 good reasons have left entirely unnoticed. 
 
 Supposf, then, every distinct branch of industry, of agri- 
 culture, and. also teachers, physicians etc. to form, each trade 
 and profession l)y itself, a distinct bod_y. a Trades-Union (we 
 simply use the term, because it is convenient) a guild, a cor- 
 poration managing its internal affairs itself, but subject to 
 collective control. 
 
 Suppose, further, that/, i. the " heelers'' among the opera- 
 tives in a shoe-fiictory in Lynn come together and elect t'leir 
 Foreman and that the * tappers,' the • solcrs,' the * finishers.' 
 and whatever else the various operators may be called, do 
 likewise. Suppose that these Foremen assemble and elect a 
 Superintendent of the factory, and that the Superintendents 
 of all the shoe-factories in Lynn, in their turn, elect a— let us call 
 him — District-Superintendent. Again, we shall suppose these 
 District-Superintendents of the whole boot and shoeindustry to 
 assemble themselves somewiiere from all parts of the country 
 and elect a I>ureau-Chief. aud he with other Bureau-Chiefs of 
 related industries, say, the tanning industry, to elect a Chief 
 of Department. 
 
 In the same manner we shall suppose, that we have got a 
 Chief for every group of related mechanical and agi-icultural 
 and mining pursuits, a Chief for the teachers, another for the 
 phj'siciaiis, an('therfor the judges — see next chapter — further, 
 one or more Cliiefs for transportation, one or more for com- 
 merce — in fact, suppose, thit there is not a social f unctioii 
 whatever that does not converge in some way in such Chief 
 of Department. 
 
 However, we do not want too many of those Chiefs, for we 
 mean to make a working Body, not a talking Body, out of 
 them We mean that these Chiefs of Department shall form 
 The National- Board of Administrators, whose function it sliall 
 be to supervise the whole social activity of the country. Each 
 Chief will supervise the internal affairs of his own departmr-Vit 
 
180 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 and the whole Board control all those matters in which the 
 General Public is interested. 
 
 But just as all inferior otTioers this National Board will be 
 nothing but a body of administrators; they will be merely 
 trusted agents to do a particular work; they will be in no sense 
 '•governors" or '•* rulers; "" or if anybody should choose to 
 call their supervision and control " government,'' it will, at all 
 events, rather be a government over things than over men. For 
 they will decree no laws. 
 
 If a general law is thouglit expedient, one that will affect 
 the people at large or those of any one department, then we 
 suppose this National Board simply to agree on the general 
 features of the measure, and thereupon entrust the drafting 
 of the proper bill either to the Chief whose department it prin- 
 cipally concerns, or, what might be the nsual course, to the 
 Chief of the Judges. When this draft has been discussed and 
 adopted, the Board Avill submit it to the people either of the 
 whole country or of the department, as may be, for their rat- 
 ification. The National Board is thus no lawmaker, therefore 
 no "government"" but an executive body stricthj. 
 
 But lioio shall we exact that rssponsibilUy on which toe laid so 
 much stress; which we consid<'red the ver}' kej'Stone of De- 
 mocracy? That important question we have hitherto not 
 touched upon at all. for the simple reason that there is abso- 
 lutely nothing in the tendency of things that can guide us to 
 any solution. The constantly reiterated demands of the work- 
 ing-classes and their mode of procedure in their own affairs 
 teach us what course they will pursue as to Appointments, 
 Tenure of Oflice and the Passage of Law-^ but nothing definite 
 about Jiemovals. And yet this point is second to none in im- 
 portance : How shall we prevent these Foremen, Superintend- 
 ents and especially the Chiefs of Departments from being at 
 an}- time the masters of the situation? 
 
 Well, the writer of this can say how it may be accomplished, 
 but does not at all pretend to say, how it icill be done. 
 
 Experience, has shown, that responsibility to many is, in 
 ordinary ease>, no re.-:ponsibility at all. We therefore hoM, 
 that if these directing functionaries are to be made respon?i< 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 181 
 
 ble for tlieir work, they must he made responsible to some one 
 person. But who is the proper one person? 
 
 We noticed, that every directing officer should be responsi- 
 ble not aU^ne for the work he himself does, but also for th: 
 work of his subordinates. He must see to it, that they do theit 
 work well. Is not this a sufficiently good reason why every 
 dirt^cting official should be given tlie right instantly to dismiss 
 any one of his subordinates for cause assigned; inefficiency 
 being, as already stated, the very best of causes. When then 
 a foreman was inefficient, he would be removed inptnntly, 
 without trial, by his superintendent ; he ao:ain might be re- 
 moved by his bureau-chief — perhaps for abuse of pov'or in re- 
 moving the foreman:, — this bureau-chief again by his depart- 
 ment-chief. 
 
 But the latter official, to whom shall he be responsible? Some 
 would say. to the whole Body of Administrators. And yet 
 the ver}'^ obvious objection might be raised to such an arrange- 
 ment, that it would really be no responsibility, for are not those 
 administrators all equals, and interested in upholding each 
 other in power? 
 
 Suppose we make every Department Chief liable to removal 
 by the whole body of his subordinates. 
 
 That is to say, suppose, that, whenever the workers of a 
 given depaitment, inclusive of Foremen, Superintendents and 
 other officials, become dissatisfied with th^-ir Chief, they all 
 meet in their different localities and vote on the dismissal of 
 that Chief, and that he be considered removed from office the 
 moment the collective judgment of the whole department is 
 known, if that judgment be adverse to him. Then the Bureau- 
 Chiefs immediately proceed to elect another Chief of Depart- 
 ment who can be removed in like manner, if he should not 
 suit the workers. 
 
 That feature, then, of the plan M'e have sketched which 
 must be charged to the personal bias of the writer of this is, 
 that, while the subordinates elect, the superiors dismiss. This 
 feature we hold will divide power b tween skill and numbers 
 In the proper proportion. We deem it a pretty good applica- 
 tion of the famous proposition of Harrington in his " Oceana" 
 
182 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 who wanted power divided on theprincijile which governs two 
 children in fairl\' dividing a cake : that the one halves the cake, 
 wiiile the other chooses its ])ortion. This feature will crente 
 perfect harmony between responsibility on one hand and sub- 
 ordination on the other. The F\)remen elect tlieir Supei intend- 
 ent, but the moment he is elected, he is indei)cnd('ntof them ; 
 how else could he be responsible for himself and for thorn to 
 his superior? But by making the Chief of all in each de- 
 partment responsible to all his subordinates, we have vindi- 
 cated the ultimate rule of that impersonal Power: Public 
 Opinion. 
 
 One point yet remains unnoticed, <Jan the foreman also dis- 
 miss any of his workers for inefficiency or other cause? It 
 will easily be seen, that this is a quite different matter from 
 the dismissal of a directing official. When the latter is re- 
 moved, he is simply put back among the rank and tile, ujitil 
 elevated by a new election. He has no right to his office. 
 But whereto could a worker be removed? He must be em- 
 ployed somewhere. Of course, there must be some kind of 
 remedy by which Society could protect itself against any re- 
 bellious or negligent worker. For such cases a trial bv his 
 comrades might be provided, the issue of which might be 
 removal to a lower grade or some sort of compulsion. 
 
 Now. is this not Democracy? 
 
 It is certainly Admiiiistr.ition ?)?/ f/ie P^op7^. Every citizen 
 will actually help in administering affairs by having some- 
 thing considerable to say about who is to be his immediate su- 
 perior. This feature is really the greatest of all. by far; it 
 provides akind of a primary election which is not child's play. 
 And that it will work well in practice the Catholic church 
 may teach us : cardinals elect the pope; priests nominate their 
 bishops and monks their abbots. That church, by-the-way. — 
 the most ingenious of human contrivances — can teach us many 
 a lesson and we are fools if we do not profit by them. 
 
 Such a system as that we have sketched insures EqualHii. 
 ft will not make all equally wise in all matters, but it will d»s- 
 ti<»y all irro.sponsihld power, abolish every trace of dependence 
 on indioiduals. All authority will be a public trust; whenever 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 183 
 
 there is Snborclination on the one hand, there is on the other 
 Rosponisibility. Instead of a slavish subjection to anybody's 
 autocratic will, there will be loyal submission by all to the 
 common impersonal superior. That is a difference which the 
 penitent operators of the W'estern Union who lately signed 
 certain so-called contracts(!) ought to be able to appreciate. 
 It by no means implies negation of all impulse, all initiative 
 from those who are the wiser, for equality is not likeness; it 
 rather is synonymous with variety, just as the same soil in free- 
 dom products all kinds of trees. 
 
 Such a system, finally, establishes the best security for the 
 best administration; it will furnish us those "real rulers" for 
 whom Carlyle yearned. Here again we cin appeal to the ex- 
 perience of the Catholic church, which knows how so to possess 
 herself of her priests, that they are as wise, acute and pushing 
 for her as the most consummate man of the world is for his own 
 interests. 
 
 But Public Opinion — the organic opinion of the people, not 
 what they separately think, — the Public Oouscience, will rule 
 tliese **real rulers." 
 
 In three ways this impersonal Power will assert itself: by 
 the referendum, by giving or refusing those highest in authori- 
 ty a vote of confidence, and last, though not least, by and 
 through the public journals. 
 
 Our journals have really a far more representative character 
 than Congress or our legislatures, and. further, they are '• rep- 
 resentatives" in constant session. True, they do not repre- 
 sent the people, for they rsprcsent in no sense the workiiig- 
 classes— these are as yet to all intents and purposes perfectly 
 dumb — but they represent very well our comfortable classes, 
 our ruling classes, the *• Messrs. six per cent.'' This will all 
 be changed in the Cooperative Commonwealth. 
 
 Some will here remark : '' If newspapers are, also, to be 
 collective property, as we suppose they are, and publish^ d 
 only by public authority, we do not see much chance for any 
 opinion, aside from '• official" opinion, to assert itself." 
 
 Let us observe that our present journals have three functions : 
 
 First, t\iQy are «et<;spapers. To gather and give the news is 
 
184 ADMIXISTRATION 
 
 their principal object. And that is the main reason why they 
 represent the well-to-do classes, exclusively, for it takes lots 
 of money to get the news. 
 
 Next, they are puhlic criers. They devote, in fact, most of 
 their columns to pushing and puffing all sorts of private en- 
 terprises. 
 
 Lastly, there is a little space left for " editorials," in which 
 garrulous writers, in the pay of the ''■Messrs. six per cent." 
 do the thinking for their employers; since they represent 
 mediocrity, it goes without saying, that it is very ordinary 
 thoughts they furnish, none very exciting — narcotic, rather. 
 
 In the Comming Commonwealth the first two functions will 
 be separated from the one last mentioned. 
 
 There will probably in every community be published an 
 official journal which will contain all announcementsof a pub- 
 lic nature and all the news, gathei-ed in the most ethcient man- 
 ner by the aid of the national telegraph service, but no com- 
 ments. 
 
 But we are assured that besides these there will also be pub- 
 lished many private journals, true champions of princi])les 
 and measures. True, the printing press will be a collective 
 institution — but it will be open to every one. 
 
 Anyone — whatever unpopular opinions he may entertain, 
 however hostile to the administrators he may be, — will be en- 
 ^ titled to have anything decent printed, provided he is ready 
 to pay for the work done, or to guarantee by hiinself or 
 friends that the cost will be defrayed. Of course, a line must 
 be drawn somewhere, as has at all times and in all countries 
 been done. Public Opinion has always insisted u])on. that 
 there is something it will not tolerate — and so it probably will 
 always be and so it ought to be. 
 
 Some one has happily chnracterlzed Carlyle as the man who 
 *' brought us out of the Egypt of shams into the desert and — 
 left us there." Carlyle did a splendid work in bringing us out 
 of the shams of representative parliamentarism, but he was 
 sadly mistaken when he wanted us to go back to the forms of 
 
OF AFFAIRS. 185 
 
 the Middle Ages. The " Eternal Silences " have decreed De- 
 mocracy, which in the fullness of time will transform tlie par- 
 ty-ridden American people into a self-assertive people, trans* 
 form the goose into an eagle. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ADMINISTRATION of JUSTICE 
 IN THE COOPERATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 "■ Our judicial system : a technical one, invented for the cre- 
 ation of costs." — Ilomilhj. 
 
 '• Distinguished pleaders defeat justice while establishmg 
 points of law." — Frazer's Mag. Nov. 79. 
 
 '•There never was such an infernal cauldron as that Chan- 
 cery on the face of the earth ! Nothing but a mine below it 
 on a busy day in term time, with all its I'ecords, rules, and prece- 
 dents collected in it, an<l every functionary belonging to it also, 
 higli and low, upward and downward, from its son the Ac- 
 countant-General to its father the Devil, and the whole blown 
 to atoms with ten thousand hundred weight of gunpowder 
 would reform it in the least! " — Charles Dickens. 
 
 It is evident tliat in the Cooperative Commonwealth there 
 will be far less litigation than now. Evciyone familiar with 
 the business of our Courts knows, that casus arising from con- 
 tract contribute by far the largest part of that business. If 
 these were extirpated; if our Courts had to deal, onl}-, with 
 cases of torts and criminal cases, the great majority of our 
 high-prized lawyers, now crowded with *• business," would 
 have to seek pastures new. Now, such cases will in the new 
 Commonwealth necessarily be, if not entirely done away with, 
 iuimensly reduced, at all events, on account of its taking all 
 t'literprisea of any social account into its own hands. As to 
 
OF JUSTICE. 187 
 
 criminal cases w'e may be pretty sure that tliey will diminish 
 materially. 
 
 Probably nearly all the cases brought before the nationa; 
 courts for determination will be those arising between the 
 Trades-Unions, Guihis, Corporations, or whatever they will be 
 called, and their members, or between the Guilds themselvess, 
 or, finally, between them and the Departments. 
 
 Further, when discu.ssing the referendum we remarked, that 
 its introducLion would naturally tend to reduce considerably 
 the bulk of our statute-law and to prevent frequent changes 
 in the same. The innnense reduction in \.\\q subject matter oi leg- 
 islation, mentioned in the preceding paragraph, and, more than 
 all. the wiping out of all State-lines and State-jurisdictions, 
 will contribute materially to the same end. We are now in mat- 
 teisof legislation pretty much in the condition F" ranee was in 
 before her Great Revolution. Her laws, it was said, were 
 changed as often as were her post-horses; we may be said to 
 change laws as often as we do railroad-cars. 
 
 Under the futtire Social Order we may hope to have a liandy, 
 compact and yet accurate and comprehensive code of Zas?- 
 ing statutes, so that the requirements of law will not needs be 
 a mystery to anybody for ever after. 
 
 And yet, though such a change in itself will be of far-reach- 
 ing importance, it will constitute but a stnall fraction of that 
 revolution which the two principles of Collective Control 
 and Democracy will bring about in our judicial system. For 
 that which gives value to all laws is the method of adminis- 
 tering them; and that method will itself be revolutionized. 
 
 lu the first place, our present method of administering jus- 
 tice is that ot Warfare. Our method makes of the profession 
 of law tlie art of gaining a victory; of a Court of Justice 
 a battleground; it uses witnesses as soldiers and rules, preced- 
 ents and technicalities as weapons and engines of war. Withouc 
 perceiving this you cannot possibly reconcile the profession- 
 al code of the lawyer with personal morality. 
 
 Listen to this code : 
 
 If a lawyer wins a case by superior vigilance, he has done 
 
188 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 jnst what liis duty requires of hiin, even if he knows he is on 
 the wroufj side. 
 
 It is u proper move for a lawyer, adroitlj^ to lead his adver- 
 sary away from uuassailable legal positions, or manoeuvre him 
 out of superiority of evidence. 
 
 A lawyer must steer around, must dodrie tlie law against hira. 
 
 A lawyer should see to it, if he may not surjjrise his adver- 
 sary, or even the judge., into some uotion which will render a 
 ^.ew trial probable sfiould the verdict be against him ; /. i. 
 make the judge overrule an objection by stating a Jlimsy ground., 
 while he conceals the true one. Indeed, our shining lights of 
 the bar do daily act on the comprehensive rule, that they may 
 do anything to gain the victory, except suborning witnesses 
 and torging precedents. 
 
 'J'his code of the profession becomes perfectlj'- comprehensible 
 in the light of the theory, tiiar a law-suit is a campaign of war. 
 In fact, it cannot be defended on any other ground than the one 
 which allows pertldy and decent in war. A g;.Mieral must vaa- 
 quish the enemy by all nicans. and in the same way it is made 
 the duty of the most conscientious counsel after he is I'etained, 
 to have this thought steadily in his mind: '^HovvsliallL 
 bring the judge and the juiy to decide for my client? How 
 can I cripple and obstruct my opponent? flow c:in I make my 
 case appear to have the law on its side?" without for a mo- 
 ment inquiring into the justice of his case. To this miserable 
 theory, that the profession of law is the nrt of warfare, of 
 strategy and nianceuvring. is due, exclusively, tin; spoliation, 
 the evasion, the lailure of justice, almost synonymous with 
 hiw. 
 
 Tims it explains M-hy the profession so persistently sticks to 
 the cumbrous jury-system and to the unanimity of twelve 
 jurors. 
 
 Jiy the way, do j'ou know why there always must be exact- 
 ly twelve? Lord Coke, tin; aj^ostle of the Anglo-Saxon law- 
 yer, enlightens j'ou : because there were twelve apostles, and 
 tweUe tribes of Isr.-iel ! ! ! 
 
 Whenever you find a lawyer with a i)oor case, j'ou can be 
 sure that nothing will make him waive liis grand constitution- 
 
OF JUSTICE. 189 
 
 al right to a jury. lie has been taught that the lawyer must 
 use as allies even the erroneous prejudices, even the ignorarbce 
 of mankind. Then there is the delicious uncertainty about 
 the verdict of a petit jury, which exactly chimes in witli the 
 warfare idea. There is a chance for a verdict m ins favor, for 
 u disagreement, and, lastly, for a new trial . Hence such riic- 
 toiical laudations as this : ^- No better tribunal has yet been de- 
 vised than a jury of twelve intelligent, honest and fairminded 
 men." Any suggestion that three such men. with a majority 
 to decide, would do as well, is frowned down by the profes- 
 sion. For — that would very much diminish the chances. * 
 
 Again, to this theory that it is the duty of the prolession to 
 tight battles and win victories is due the fact that the decision 
 of a case very seldom hinges on a statute law and general 
 maxims of equity, but almost always on some precedent, that 
 is, some similar case, preserved in one or other of the thou- 
 sand American or English ** Heports." 
 
 T'he citizen who supposes, that the '"law" he is governed 
 by is the statute-law of his state is very much in error. The 
 statute-law is the most insigniiicant fraction of our laws. 
 The *■• law" is something no lawyer can learn in a lifetime, 
 both on account of the bulk of the IJeports (to which in Amer- 
 ica alone a hundred volumes are added yearly) and because he 
 never can be absolutely certain what is good, and what bad 
 law. 
 
 But even if a judge should be told all the decisions on a giv- 
 en point that are valid, he has no giiide in them at all. There 
 stand the decisions in two rows : On one hand those in which 
 a question has been decided one way ; on the other those where 
 the d^'cision has been the contrary way — length of rows as 
 nearly equal as the heart could wish. He takes his choice and 
 either way he bows to the name of some " learned "judge, 
 gome ' uuthoritj'! " 
 
 The fatal conclusion thus is, that our administration of jus- 
 tice depends upon caprice. The profession divines, rather than 
 
 * An article : " Is the Jurj- Sj-stein a Failure?" in the Cen- 
 turtj of 1882 by Albert Stickne}', whom our readers know Irora 
 a former chapter, is woith perusal. 
 
1 90 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 ascertains the law. Am] ;ill our legislation, in spite of all codeg 
 and all '•• reforms,'' is hy the address of law^'ers made to rest 
 on precedents. 
 
 Why? 
 
 Because the theory ^f warfare requires snares rather tlian 
 guides; it requires as much nncerlaintij^ connected Avitli as 
 nuicli precision as possible. To say that lawyers have no in- 
 terests in the uncertainty of tlie law is to say that ghiziers 
 have no interest in the breaking of wimlows. Because y)rc- 
 cedents are their engines of warfare, our lawyers tenaciously 
 cling to them and have a horror for broad principles. 'J'hey 
 unwittingly consider that a virtue wliich furthers the peculiar, 
 sinister interests of their class. 
 
 The same theory, also, requires the innumerable technicali- 
 ties, rules and forms, that have as little to do with justice as 
 English wigs and gowns have. Our constitutions really per- 
 petrate a witticism, when they guarantee *• complete justice, 
 conformably to the laws," for these laws silent l3''a^>'si<me these 
 slipper j^ rules and subtilties. To guarantee complete jnstice 
 conformahlij to rules that thwart justice is like guaranteeing lib- 
 erty inside locks and keys and shackles. 
 
 From this warfare-tht ory follows another great evil — an out- 
 rage upon every idea of justice. A war demands money, 
 much money. No man, therefore, can commence or defend 
 a lawsuit without a replete pocketbook. It is one of the most 
 expensive speculations he can venture into, and the longest 
 purse is pretty sure to win. 
 
 Our paper-constitutions pompously guarantee ''justice free- 
 ly and without purchase, completely and without denial, 
 prom])tly and without delay." Instead of that this warfare 
 theory gives us the triple-headed monster of Expense, Vex« 
 atiou and Delay. 
 
 And, lastly, this warfare theor}" has a demoralizing effect on 
 the lawyer. It gives far more credit to him who wins a bad 
 case than to him who wins a good one. It compels our legal 
 men to be partisans, to be what Jeremy Bentham sneeringly 
 called them — •• Messrs. Eitherside." There is no radical dif- 
 ference between that " representative of the bar" who for a 
 
OF JUSTICE. IDl 
 
 fancy fee is the partisan of one part}' today, against him peiv 
 haps tomorrow, an advocate of one theory one nioment, its op- 
 ponent the next nioment. and tlie common pettifogger. The hit- 
 ler is simply an irregahir gnerilhi. What do we say of the 
 soldier who is today in one camp, in auotiier tomorrow? The 
 Tides which this theory makes obligatory on the lav/yer, the 
 .arts he must practise, if practised in any other position, would 
 I'C deemed dishonorable. 
 
 And the study and practice of the law under this method 
 cripples the lawyer intellectually. Take him who has raised 
 himself to the summit of learning by wooing that *' jealous 
 mistress," the law with "twenty years' lucubrations, "' the con- 
 dition fixed by authorities. In what has lie become '" learned ?" 
 In the conceit of centuries and the debris of society. Buckle 
 Is right: ''Learning*' serves Ignorance as much as it does 
 Progress. 
 
 Take, next, the succesful practitioner. What does he gain 
 by ''establishing points of law?" — some of which are as un- 
 profitable as the medieval puzzle : how many souls can dance 
 on the point of a needle '? He becomes alert, smart, undoubt- 
 edly. But the practice of law has the same efiect as the ac- 
 tion of tne grindstone ; it narrows the mind as well as sharpens 
 it. Especially is that the case with practitioners who devote 
 themselves to special branches of the law. 'i'hey get to liave 
 a positive aversion to enlarged views and care no more for the 
 interests of mankind beyond the narrow limit of iheir pur- 
 suit than the man who spends his life in putting on theheads 
 of pins. 
 
 And yet the indifference of legal men to the public welfare 
 —as long as there are cases to try-by no means keeps them away 
 from public affairs. On the contrary, a lawyer takes as naturally 
 to politics as a duck to water, simply because politicians and 
 lawyers are equally intriguers. The consequence is that their 
 vicious maxims, antiquated systems and contracted views are 
 carried over into the broad field of governmental affairs, tak- 
 ing the place ot enlarged views, suitable to the situation and 
 height of the times. Lawyers as a rule make our laws, although 
 a superstition prevails, that this is the work of the people 5 
 
192 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 but it is an absurdity beyond measure, that no executive of- 
 ficer, ill purely administrative matters, can take a step without 
 consulting a cramped, in sucli affairs essentially ignorant, lavr 
 officer, placed at his elbow. 
 
 In tlie second place, it is a part of our method that the judges 
 make law for the people. 
 
 What are those precedents we mentioned, which make up 
 by far the greater part of the law we are governed by, and 
 which , in our country alone, are manufactured at the rate of 
 a hundred volumes yearlj"-? They are nothing but '^'' judge- 
 made law,'' '"■ counterfeit law " in the words of Beutham. Of 
 such " law'* here one example, only: 
 
 Our national constitution provides, that no state shall pass 
 anv law, impairhig the oblij-ation of contracts. Chief Justice 
 Marshall, by our lawyers snrnamed '" the Great," took upon 
 himself to say — in the celebrated Dartmouth College case- 
 that this provision should ha so construed as to prohibit the 
 people from altering charters and withdrawing privileges^ grant' 
 ed by themselves to corporations. And such is the law since 
 that " great " decision was promulgated. 
 
 No, one more instance, lor it is too interesting to omit. Do 
 you know, why Christianity is a part of tiie Common Law of 
 our country? Because an English judge, Lord Mansfield, mis- 
 translating two words of a dictum of somebody in the 15th cen- 
 tury, Q,a\\in\ ancitn scripture (Norman French, meaning: an- 
 cient writing) — •'• holy scripture ! ! ! " 
 
 And thi^ extraordinary power of our judges means, that they 
 can provide a law for cases after they arise. As Bentham said : 
 "• Tliey proceed with men as men proceed with dogs. When 
 jMmr dog does something you want to break him of, you wait 
 till he does it and then you thrash him for it. That is what 
 judges do to suitors whom they make reluctant heroes of a 
 leading case." They, thus, exercise a power which is express- 
 ly forbidden to the legislators. 
 
 But that is not all. 
 
 The people's ** representatives" pass a certain law. The 
 Deople obey it and act under it. Afterwards a judge delivers 
 
OF JUSTICE. 193 
 
 himself of this piece of wisdom to some poor wretch whom 
 he has got withia his jurisdiction: •• [ declare that law to be 
 no law at all. You were presumed to know that all the time. 
 \Ylieu you acted under this so-called law, you did so at your 
 peril." Is not that to make the minister of the law superior 
 to the law itself? Certainly it is. Hear Horatio Seymour in an 
 article in the jYorth American Review : •' The great distinguish- 
 ing feature of our government, where we stand aloc^ among 
 the peoples of the earth, is placing the judiciary above the ex- 
 ecutive and the lawmaking power." 
 
 Yes, and above the paople in their organic capacity. The 
 fate of the constitution which the people of California lately 
 adopted may lead us to doubt, if it is possible for the people 
 in their primary capacity to frame an organic law^ that will 
 not be so misconstrued by judges as to defeat the very pur- 
 poses they sought to accomplish. 
 
 Against lawyers and judges, then, the people are a cipher. 
 Let the people signify their will in a way they think cannot 
 be misconstrued — the judges come with then* dignilied coun- 
 tenances, saying: '• You, people, do not at all know what you 
 will, for you will quite the contrary of what you have said." 
 Some people talk of priestcraft and ascribe all sorts of hor- 
 rors to it! The priesthood that is dangerous may not be the 
 one that preacheson Sundays, but the **• learned " ones to whom 
 on week-days law and reason, justice and the public welfare 
 are merely subjects of play or caprice. 
 
 Now we can say for certain that under the Cooperative Com- 
 monwealth this method will be radically changed, — our two 
 Socialist principles will not permit its continuance. We may 
 be certain. 
 
 Firsts that judges will not he allowed to make counterfeit laws. 
 
 That will be a necessary consequence from the democratic 
 principle, that what the people have not sanctioned is notlaw. 
 Every case will be decided on its merits — according to the law 
 as the people have sanctioned it, without regard to any precedents 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Precedents, then, the dry^ worthless historical knowledge on 
 
194 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 which our legal men have constructed their sham-science, 
 called ••jurisprudence,-' will thus be Sv/ept away under theii 
 feet, as was done in France by the Revolution and tbe Code 
 Napoleon. That this code has been covered up with new pre- 
 cedents, twenty times as voluminous as itself by the lawyers 
 having commenced their retinements over again, thus clog- 
 ging the wheels of justice as much as before, is due to the sup- 
 pression of the principle of democracy. 
 
 Second, it will follow, even more necessarilj'-, that judges 
 will no longer be permitted to nulUfij laws, since in the Coope- 
 rative Commonwealth what the people have sanctioned is law. 
 
 This monstrous guardianship of the judiciary over the peo- 
 ple, dictating to them and their representatives, as last resort, 
 what is law and what lawbreaking, which also Jefferson de- 
 nounced as undemocratic, and ot which the British Constitu- 
 tion, that we otherwise have tried so faithfully to copy, knows 
 nothing, will cease to '■' distinguish us among the peoples of 
 the earth."" 
 
 We may be assured. 
 
 Third, that the whole tribe of lawyers will be abolished and with 
 them the whole warfare-theory and all its quibbles will be 
 swept away. 
 
 The New Order, with its practical economic organization of all 
 public affairs, will have no use vvhateverfor our " Messrs. Eith- 
 erside." Abolish the warfare, and the profession of the law- 
 yer is next to useless. 
 
 Lawyers are now necessary evils— necessary on account of 
 our method of Jidmiuistering justice, just as the old Roman 
 lawyers were necessary, b3canse in R)me a suit was a religious 
 rile, requiring ceremonies that o:ily could be p3rfjrmed by 
 the initiated. So because, and only because, a lawsuit is now 
 a warfare and because technic^alities and precedents are mys- 
 teries to the uninitiated; finally because of the iimumerable 
 conllicting personal interests, we undoubtedly could not at 
 present very well dispense with lawyers. 
 
 But when this multiplicity of interests is done away with 
 and the present method of administering justice torn up by 
 the roots, then their occupation will be gone. And the Com« 
 
OF JUSTICE. 195 
 
 iiii^ Commonwealth is not likely to squancler the public treas- 
 ures on useless fanctionaries. 
 
 Fourth. To sue for justice will be absolutchj costless. 
 
 That is easily done, as soa:i as lawj'ers are abolished. 
 
 *•' lUit if justice be free, all will avail themselves of it and 
 there will be no end to litigation." 
 
 Is then an appeal to law worse than a trespass? The New 
 Order will not so consider it; it will consider the least injury 
 to any of its citizens an injury to itself. Give me a license to do 
 any person at pleasure the minutest wrong conceivable; allow 
 me to pour a drop of water upon his head against hiswJl ; thatper~ 
 son is my slave. Our Commonwealth will know what a groiindless 
 suit means: it will know of no such thing as a frivolous one. 
 Besides, it is the modern sparing justice that feeds iniquity. 
 Be assured, that swift and unbending justice, with the lining 
 of malicious or litigious complainants, will check litigation. 
 
 But it is natural, that inquirers should not yet be satisfied. 
 They will ask: '• What kind of procedura, then, will the Co- 
 operative Commonwealth introduce? So far 3'ou have only 
 been tearing down the present system, except that j'ou have 
 promised iis one positive achievement, to-wit. a handy, intel- 
 ligible volume of laws. What system, now, will take the place 
 of the incubus you have relieved us of?" 
 
 We remark here as we did. when the economic administra- 
 tion under Socialism was discussed, that Socialists have no 
 readj'-made plan to lay down for the guidance of those who 
 will be called upon to organize the Coming Commonwealth, 
 least of all a detailed plan. They must be guided by their own 
 judgment, the then condition of affairs and the temper of the 
 people. But we grant, that we ought to show, if but in the 
 merest outlines, how the New Social Order may get along 
 without lawyers tolerably well. Only bear in mind, that So- 
 cialism is not responsible for the system we shall suggest. 
 
 It will be observed, that of our present machinery almost 
 everything has been thrown overboard except statutes and 
 judges. 
 
 We assume, that the New Commonwealth cannot dispense 
 
196 ADxMINISTFtATION 
 
 with judo^es; wc do not mean our present ?a?oy<?r-jnrl^es (their 
 ''services'" will certainly biMlispensed with.) batmen especial- 
 ly (rained tf) judicial functions, as others are trained to theirs. 
 Tiie notion, which many within the Sncialist ranks entert:ii:i 
 tliat justice can. and ongiit to be, dispensed bj^ the "people," 
 is one tliey would be radically cured of. if they could have some 
 y 'ars' expcrieiice in the trial of cases Justice by the ^'people" 
 w »idd be mob-justice. It would be what "" lynch " justice is 
 now. It woidd in its best form be an article not superior to 
 the scandalous judgments for which country Justices-of-the- 
 Peace out West are so famous. 
 
 We can j::ive good reasons for such belief. True, in our 
 Co nmonwealth tliere \vill be, as we have seen, no dltflcultyin 
 ascertaining the law ; further, there will be little or no difficulty 
 i n interpreting the law. But it requires, and will likewise in that 
 Commonwealth require, some judgmsnt to apphj the law, and 
 what is the most impoitant consideration of all. it requires a 
 i^ood deal of education and traiijin<i:to ascertain the truth where 
 the facts are in dispute, as they are nearlv in every case. It 
 is impossible to ascertain the truth, without knowing how to 
 estimate the force of evidence, and that knowledge cannot be 
 acquired, without having a Science of Evidence and having 
 studied it as much as an}'' otlun- science needs to be studied and 
 having learned the ait how properly to apply it. 
 
 Men trained in that science, and trained to be exact lo- 
 gicians, will undoubteilly be needed, and they will occupy very 
 distinguished positions. 
 
 ^Ve apprehend, that in the future Commonwealth our shatn 
 '^science" of jurisprudence, which in its essence is nothing 
 hut a '^ science" of precedents, will be supphintcd with a true 
 science of Evidence, something else than that confused col- 
 h'ction of arbitrary lules. called ''rules of evidence" which 
 Jeremy Bentham many years ago so sharply and caustically 
 criticised. 
 
 Assuming, then, that we in our Commonwealth will have a 
 t)ody of trained judges we shall also assume that they will 
 r.>rm J;hemselvcs into a Department like other functionaries, 
 with their Chief among the Board of Administrators, vvliose 
 
OF JUSTICE. 197 
 
 peculiar function it possibly may be to draft all proposed laws. 
 
 But we pass over to the particular task we have set ourselves : 
 the procedure in case of a lawsuit. 
 
 Just as little Switzerhmd will furnish us a model of really 
 popular democratic administration in the '• referendum," so it 
 is possible, tliat little Denmark will furnish us a model of pop- 
 ular administration of justice in her socallcd*' Courts of Con- 
 ciliation," wliich have been in existence in thai country since. 
 1828 and durins^ that period have given immense satisfaction, 
 so much so, indeed, that similar Courts have to a certain ex- 
 tent been adopted by other countiies in Europe. The dis- 
 tinguishing feature of those Courts is that no lawucrs are al- 
 lowed there. All suits whatsoever', without regard to the 
 amounts involved, must, in the first place, be brought liefore 
 these Courts. The judge takes down the oral complaiiTtof the 
 plaintiff and the oral defense of the defendant and renders 
 judgment accordingly. If, however, either of the parties are 
 dissatisfied with the judgment, the judge refers the case to the 
 regular Courts, in which Courts, however, no other evidence 
 is allowed to be introduced but that which was laid before the 
 judge sitting in the Coui-t of Conciliation. 
 
 A vast amount of litigation is settled yearly by these Courts, 
 because it is the duty of the judge to explain the laws gov- 
 erning the particular case to the parties, and also, undoubted- 
 ly, because lawyers are excluded. 
 
 Our Commonwealth wovdd do very well in following this 
 Danish model, and only improve on it in making the judgment 
 of such a Court conclusive on the parties. This would fulfill 
 themostimportant requirement, namely, render lawyers super- 
 fluous, and taking down the verbal statements of the. parties 
 would dispense with the useless lying '' pleadings " of our 
 present system. 
 
 But the Coming Commonwealth might in another way util- 
 ize that model, by ingrafting some of its features on another 
 mode of determining suits at law which is undoubtedly be- 
 coming more' and and more popular. We refer to Arbitration, 
 which at present would be far more used than is the case, if 
 the tendency to resort to it were not constantly obstructed by 
 
198 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 our lawyers, who naturally enough consider it an inferior com- 
 modity — something like neckbeef. 
 
 JSnppose the phiintiff in a given suit were required to select 
 one of the Comnioiiweiiltirs judges, who woukl take dovvn liis 
 own statements and those of his witnesses and then notify the 
 defendant of the commencement of sucii a suit. He on liis 
 part would select another of the judges, who would proceed 
 in a like manner. These two judges would then confer togeth- 
 er, giving each other the benefit of their views of the law on 
 the basis of the statements taken down, which would be le- 
 gal evidence, subject to cross-examination, however, in case of 
 discrepancy. If the two could not agree on a dt'cision, they 
 Avould then select a third judge, and the decision of the ma- 
 jority would be the judgment. The same proceedings might 
 very well obtain in criminal cases, the judge representing tlie 
 IState being selected by the judges of the district from among 
 themselves. 
 
 If it be objected, that trials then would lose their publicity, 
 we answer, first, that arbitrations now are mostly private, and, 
 next, that publicity is often more subversive of justice than 
 otherwise. Wrongs to women are by publicity often aggra- 
 vated ratlier than remedied. And administration of justice is 
 by it not infrequently turned into a mighty abettor of the black- 
 ma iler. 
 
 We said, that our Commonwealth might improve upon the 
 Danish model by making the judgment of the trial-judge con- 
 clusive on the parties. We mean that. 
 
 Tiiere can be no doubt, that the expense and interminable 
 delay of our lawsuits are mainly due to the many appeals. 
 This expense and delay are, also, the reason why in most of 
 the States we find so many appellate Courts constantly being 
 established at the instance of lawyers^ of course, and never 
 once an appellate Court abrogated, for do not lawyers want ex- 
 pense and delay? 
 
 Whij not dispense entirely with appeals under the system of ar- 
 bitration suggested? 
 
 What is the philosophy of appeals? 
 
 By no means, that the appellate judge is better fitted to render 
 
OF JUSTICE. 199 
 
 a righteous judo^ment, for, not being face to face with the par- 
 ties and their witnesses, he evidently is not. 
 
 No, the first reason of appeals is that the trial judge may- 
 have somebody to stand in awe of. so to speali. But the judges 
 of the future Commonwealth, being freely selected by the par- 
 tics, ceitiiinly need no one to stand in awe of. 
 
 A second reason of appeals to liighor Courts is that the in- 
 terpretation of the laws may be uniform. 
 
 That, liowever, might be accomplished just as effectually, 
 and much more conveniently, by a provision, that the judges 
 shall informtheir Chief of all cases and their particulars, where 
 a disagreement lias taken place next, of the cases where they 
 have deviated from the strict law in favor of equity and of all 
 points arising, not yet provided for by law. 
 
 We saj'- ''deviated from the strict law," for the judges should 
 have discretion. No law should be inflexible. It would be 
 well to re-adopt the old maxim of the Roman law "' Siimmum 
 jus^ summa injuria'''' (''the strict law is often the hight of in- 
 justice.") 
 
 The Chief would then approve or disapprove of the judg- 
 ment rendered, or of the deviation from the hiw resorted to 
 — a sort of reprimand or otherwise — and introduce amend- 
 ments to the existing laws, if thought proper. But the judg- 
 ment below loould stand as rendered, and neither the judgments 
 nor disapprovals should ever become precedents, or we should 
 soon again be in the meshes of the lawyers. Nothing would 
 he law that has not been submitted to the people and obtained 
 their sanction. 
 
 Under such a procedure there would not be the least ex- 
 ruse for our infamous bail system. Infamous, because there 
 is hardly a crime so great, but that under that system a friend 
 of Vanderbilt or Astor can get out on bail and have the 
 inestimable privilege of being at liberty to collect evidence 
 in his fiivor and otherwise prepare for bis defence; and be- 
 cause there is, on the other hand, hardly a misdemeanor 
 so trivial but that a poor man cannot get out without bail. 
 Infamous, because poor innocent witnesses are under that sys- 
 tem doomed to spend weeks and months in jail. There will 
 
200 ADMINISTRATION 
 
 be no excuse for it under our procedure, for all cases can under 
 it be decided quickly. 
 
 Just as we are the worst party-ridden of all countries, so 
 we «;ertainly are the most lawyer-ridden one. And the lawyer- 
 class is the most luisctiievons of all classes, the one tliat most 
 clogs tho wheels of progress. When the Supreme Powers is- 
 sue their decree, that the Established Order is at an end, then 
 with the Me}<srs. Six jwr cent must go tlieir retainers, the Messrs. 
 EWievsule and lawyer-judges. It is even more important to insist 
 upon their taking back seats hei-e, wliere tliey claim to be the peo- 
 ple's guardians, than in England, where tliey have never ven- 
 tured to deny the nation the right to change its institutions at 
 its pleasure. 
 
 On the other hand, the very principle of Democracy demands 
 competent and qualified judges ^ the more so as the very highest 
 of the social activities is to see justice done. We may alsc 
 rest assured, that the Guilds and Departments of the New Com- 
 monwealth will insist on trained functionaries to whom to sub- 
 mit their differences for arbitration. When legal training u 
 freed from legal cobwebs, then we shall have 
 
 Natural procedure instead o/ teghkical procedare. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 WOMAN m THE COOPEEATIVE COMMONWEALTH. 
 
 " The only school of g-ennine moral sentiment is society 
 betAveen Equals."' — John S. 3Iill. 
 
 "• Why is she constituted a woman at all? — Merely that she 
 may become a sort of second-rate man "? '* — '■' Biolof/ij and Worn- 
 an^s Bights''^ Quarterly Journal of Science, Nov. 1S7S. 
 
 ^' Work is withheld from woman in theory, only to be more 
 harshly and clumsily inflicted in practice." — Value of Life. 
 
 The Position of Woman — of that half of humanity out of 
 whose wombs the coming generations issue— lias generally 
 been taken as the measure of a people's advancement. 
 
 Yet, woman has hitherto always been a stepchild, is even 
 so now, and in our country, in spite of our boasted "• chivalry." 
 If the man of toil is to be pitied, much more, indeed, is the 
 toiling woman; if a husband suffers from* an unhappy mar- 
 riage, much more a wife ; and the distance between the great- 
 est man and the lowest slave has always been far less tlian be- 
 tween the high-placed lady and the woman of the street. If 
 the Cooperative Commonwealth would not be likely to affect 
 a vast improvement in the lot of woman, it would not be worth 
 hoping for. " 
 
 We have good grounds for expecting that she will under the 
 commg order of things be raised as far above her present 
 
202 WOMAN. 
 
 position as the woman of the Middle Ages was elevated above 
 her sister of Ancient Greece or Kome. 
 
 Yet, boar in mind that Socialisui. in its essence, has to do 
 with economic rehitions. Tliere is no Socialist Mnrriji^c or 
 Family'- Life; we may add, there is no Socialist Education or 
 ]M()rals, but neither is there any Socialist Politics or Justice. 
 Isevertheless, Socialism will, as we saw, revolutionize the Ad- 
 ministration of Art'airs and of Justice. This will be done by 
 a direct effort: by discarrling the present machinery and 
 contrive other instruments, suitable to collective control 
 of all national affairs. But Socialism will, also, have 
 many i??(/u'efi effects of vast consequence. Production and dis- 
 ti ibution of wealth being the roots of Society, tlmj determine the 
 soundness of its trunk and the quality of its flowers and fruit. 
 Hence it comes that Socialism, by refasliioning economic rela- 
 tions, will i-ogfMierate Society throughout all its activitities,"and, 
 jnoreparticularl}', will have, most marked effect on Woman^ on 
 Education and on Morals. 
 
 While, however, the influence of Social Cooperation in the 
 other two respects will be a manifold one, as we shall after- 
 wards see, Woman will be affected in a peculiarly simple, 
 though not the less eflective, manner. The Coming Common- 
 wealth 'will i)lace her on an equal footing with man, economic 
 call(/^ that is all. 
 
 But here it is even more important than elsewhere to settle 
 what we are to understand by '■'•economic Equality."' NVe 
 caimot do tliis better than by comparing tlie Socialist view with 
 the demands of that persistent class of persons, known as 
 '• women's rights" champions, of whom John S. Mill Avas a 
 representative. 
 
 These latter demand that the avenues to all employments 
 hi) opened as freely to women as the}' are to men — in other 
 words, the}' ngitate for free competition between the sexes. 
 
 Well, we should say that the door to most industrial employ- 
 ments has for a long time been open to women ot the working 
 classes. According to the U. S. Census of 1880 there wcie 
 632,000 women engaged in manufacturing, mechanicaJ and 
 
WOMAN. 203 
 
 mining induptrips, one-pixth of the whole working force. In 
 some indnstries the proportion is far greater, notabl}' in the 
 cotton mills, where there are considerably more woiuen than 
 men employed. 
 
 Have these woraen's-rights agitators ever contemplatetl the 
 result? Which, under our present industrial system, simply 
 is, that competition is rendered yet more savage ; that wnges 
 sink to a lower and lower level; that a \v)»olefan)ily, on an aver- 
 age, comes to earn no more than the head of the family used to 
 earn by himself. 
 
 Of these 632,000 females manj- thousand were married wom- 
 en and mothers of children. What kind of famil}' life do 
 they lead? W^hnt kind of training (]o those children get? Ought 
 we to hanker after more competition? 
 
 Again, of the force that used to be employed in the Census 
 Bureau in AVasliington to work out the results of the last cen- 
 sus the gn^at mnjority were women. It is a fact, notorious 
 to those in a position to know, that these women performed 
 their work in a very slovenly manner, evincing next to no in- 
 terest in what they were set to do. V\''ould, on the other hand, 
 not that kind of work have afforded an excellent training school 
 for aspiring young men, in every way far better fitted to 
 perform it? 
 
 Now, ice say that the worst that can befall both sexes is for 
 woman to compete icith man in man's tcork. We contend, icith 
 JNlill, for cquaUtij. but, against Mill, that woman should not be- 
 come a second-rate man. That is to say, we again urge the vital 
 distinction, which is constantly overlooked, between being 
 equal and being alike. 
 
 Woman is diiFerent from man in intellect, different from him 
 in temperament, different from him in muscles. There is a 
 ])eculiarity of construction in the bones of the pelvis and chest 
 which forbids her to be as much on her feet as man. We may, 
 further, suggest certain notorious, physiological facts that de- 
 mand, in contrast to man. that woman shaU have a periodic 
 rest of, saj', three days every four weeks. 
 
 In other words, instead of free competition between the 
 sexes, we contend for special vocations for the sexes. 
 
204 WOMAN. 
 
 That, of course, ii not to be thought of under the present 
 system. The proportion of \von)eii to men in shops, iniiics 
 and factories will undoubtedly contiiuie to increase. In dis- 
 regard of physiological facts manufacturers will go on re- 
 quiring their female employees to be on their feet from morn- 
 ing till night, and retail-dealers will stick to the rule against 
 sitting down. As a matterof sentiment the}' may think Plato's 
 proposition to mix the sexes in all things preposterous, but 
 the system demands it. It is just the same thing in regard to 
 wages. Sentimental people deplore the fact that women are 
 paid less than men for the same work. There is no help for 
 it under our system : the law of wages demands it. 
 
 Quite otherwise in the Co()i)erative Commonwealth. Tliere 
 woman will become a functionary, she will have suitaole em- 
 plo3'ment given her, and be rewarded according to results, 
 just the same as man. 
 
 ^SzaYaftZe employment, mark you! Woman will there not 
 take the place of man. The sexes will there keep pare icith 
 each other, but — in accordance with the teaching of physiology 
 — walk in different pathways. That will simply mean that the 
 pi'inciple which is the basis of our civilization, to wit : Division 
 of Labor will be extended so as to embrace both sexes. If 
 that principle is good for man, why not for man and woman? 
 Indeed, we shall tind that this extension of Division of Labor 
 will furnish the desideratum of the Coming Commonwealth: 
 competent workers in every field of labor. Woman will surely 
 not be dragging behind, for we must remember that whatever 
 of greatness woman hitherto has accomplished she has 
 achieved in violation of the conventional code, but Nature with 
 equal laws always tends to diversity. 
 
 "• Will there be work enough for all women who choose to 
 engage in public activities?" you may ask. 
 
 Why ! even now. in this crude civilization of ours, there is 
 an abundance of work which woman only onght to do. Why 
 should not our women insist on having female physicians ( ve 
 do not mean siu'geons) to attend them? Is that (.'ailing more 
 un-womanly than nursing? The Woman's Hospitals in Phil- 
 adelphia and other places whose medical stalls and students 
 
WOMAN. 205 
 
 are women are most excellent institutions, uad mark the com- 
 ing change. 
 
 And imagine once the innumerable huniane institutions of 
 the Cooperative Commonwealth! They will aftbrd woman a 
 tliousand opportunities for the exercise of lier peculiar natural 
 gifts — we need only instance the Kindergartens, spread over 
 the wliole country, of which we sliall liave more to say in the 
 next chapter, 
 
 J low will tliis affect woman? Just as it wiil man. 
 
 As liis becoming a public functionaiy will destroy the ac- 
 cursed dependence on the irresponsible wiil of some individ- 
 ual for a living which now obtains ; as it will make him a free.' 
 man^ so it will nvAko, \\qy a free-woman. Woman now is de- 
 pendent on some man for a living : on fiither or brotlier or hus- 
 band or employer — that is why men arrogate to themselves to 
 say what is woman's sphere. Destroy that dependence — we 
 do not say make her i?idependent, for " independence" is not 
 a Socialist word at all; all will be dppendent on the Common- 
 wealth and ^«^er-dependent — give her the poicero/ earning'hQ.r 
 oww Vwmg at pleasure^ and «Ae economic equality of woman is 
 achieved. 
 
 lUit, undoubtedly, the idea that all women, even "ladies," 
 might come to earn their own living will shock many a •' cliiv- 
 alrous" gentleman in these hypocritic times. What would 
 life be to them without *' delicate and spiritual" women to 
 whom to pay homage ! 
 
 Well, the consideration that the equality which we advo- 
 cate will hardly give us any female sailor or blacksmith ought 
 to console th(Mn somewhat. But we admit that they have some 
 reason to be horritied. 
 
 For these same persons generally fancy, that it is their ap- 
 preciation that gives value to woman — a view, not so very dif- 
 lerent fi'om the Mohammedan view. In the Coming Common- 
 wealth woman will certainly not. as now, form her character 
 with the express aim of pleasing the man-fool. But she will 
 have fuller opportunities than she ever yet has had of develop- 
 ing her specific gifts of womanhood. Then esteem will be 
 substituted for vapid compliments. 
 
206 WOMAN. 
 
 However, this power of eaniiuo: licr Hvlui^ does not mean, that 
 in the New Social Onler all woinen, or even a majority of them, 
 will be in the service of tiie public. Nothini^ will prevent the 
 daughters from remaining at home, assisting tlieir mothers or 
 caring for their fatliers, and nothing will compel married wom- 
 en to neglect their domestic aflairs. It simply means that ev- 
 ery woman will be enabled to earn her own living, honorably, 
 and pleasantly lohenever she chooses so to do. And this power 
 is essential to the dignity of woman, whether married or single. 
 
 After what we have said on Suffrage ni other chapters we 
 need not dwell on that other, the principal, demand of our 
 •• women's rights ." champions, that women now should vote 
 us much as men. 
 
 We, of course. snpi>o^e that in the Coming Common wealtii 
 woman Avill be intrusted witli the Suffrage to exactly the same 
 extent as man — we say, advisedly, "intrust'' for, all these cham- 
 ])ions to the contrary, Suffrage is not a ' right," nor is it a 
 privilege^ but a trust. 
 
 But what would the mere power to cast a ballot help woman 
 now, supposing it were given to her? Suffrage is one of those 
 things which are so very valuable, when you have not got it, 
 and so very worthless when you have. The ballot has proven 
 anything but a magic wand to the toiling working-men, and it 
 would be still more impotent in the hands of toiling women. 
 
 The ballot would not bring strength to the lightless eye or 
 the thin hand of the needle-woman of this age of con)peti- 
 tion ; it would not remove the causes which now make wom- 
 an prefer almost any marriage to working for a living. It 
 might enable her to say a word about laws of divorce, but 
 would not enable her to support herself when divorced. The 
 ballot in her hand might suppress lewd houses, but would not 
 prevent men from leading victims to the altar of their passions 
 like sheep to the slaughter-bench. 
 
 Neither are we blind to the consideration that if woman 
 could exercise the suffrage to-morrow with the State as at pres- 
 ent constituted, the result would in all likelihood be detrimental 
 to progress, for it is undeniable, that they, taken as a whole, 
 are far more conservative, cveurcactionar)- — no fault of theirs, 
 
WOMAN. 207 
 
 though — than men. In the vvor<ls of Admh-al Maxse : ''Those 
 who think unorthodox, that is, unusual thoughts, they (i. e. 
 women of the present time) heHeve to he wicked. They turn 
 instinctively from all initiative; mo\ cements. Even superior 
 women rarely have sympathy with the struggles which deter- 
 mine the li!e of a nation. They are only interested in puhlic 
 affairs Avithin the limits of the parish."' I>ut in the ('oming 
 Commonwealth all these ohjections will disapi^ear, for they 
 can all be shown to be due to their one-sided education. 
 
 Let us, however give credit to these persistent ''women- 
 rights" agitators for one thing. We are told, that in some 
 settlements on the African coast free negroes sire taunted by the 
 slaves with having no white man to look after them. That so 
 many of our women have got beyond t^^e standpoinc of those 
 slaves is in the main due to those agitators. 
 
 But for woman to expect, that her emancipation will be 
 worked out before that of man is altogether illusive. And 
 this is a sufiicient leason, why all agitators for women's rights 
 ought with enthusiasm to embrace Socialism, w^hich will en- 
 able woman to right, herself, all her other wrongs. 
 
 Take marriage 
 
 Ihe Xew Order will necessarilv. by the mere working of its 
 economic principles considerabl}'^ modify that relation. And 
 is that relation such an ideal one now, that it would be a sac- 
 rilege to touch it? 
 
 Is marriage not now, at bottom, an establishment for the 
 support of the woman? Is not maintenance the price which 
 the husband pays for the appendage to himself? And because 
 the supply generally exceeds the demand — that is, the effective 
 demand — has woman not often to acc(^pt the offer of the first 
 man who seems able to perform this pecuniary obligation ot 
 his? 
 
 This is rather a commercial vi«w to take of this "holy" re- 
 lation, but is not, as a matter of fact, mari'iage regarded by 
 altogether too many as a commercial institution? Do not, in 
 fact, the total of young women form a matrimonial maiket. regu- 
 lated by Demand and Supply? Nothing is more natural than 
 
208 WOMAN. 
 
 tiiat it should be so now. It is most Imman, that in our pres- 
 ent Social Order parents as well as j'^oiing women should look 
 upon marriage, witliout prospects of subsistence, witli horror. 
 Now. the Cooperative Commonwealth will dissipate that hor- 
 ror. Ic will enable every healthj'^ adult man and woman to 
 marry whenever they feel so inclined, without any present or 
 prospective misgivings in regard to their support or the prop- 
 er education of children. Socialists are charged, ignorantly 
 or insidiously, with attempting to destroy the family. Why! 
 wp- leant to enable every man and icoman to form a happy family. 
 
 Somebody may here interject, tliat it is very inexpedient for 
 people to marry yonng, since they must necessarily be wanting 
 in judgment. 'J'o that we reply, that by "■ young people " we 
 mean developed, adult.yovmg people — children will in a prop- 
 er social system remain in the care of their teachers till they 
 have grown to maturity ; further, that nothing contributes so 
 much to the chastity of a Nation as the marriage of its young 
 men as soon as possible after reaching the adult state; and, 
 lastl3^ that experience does not teach us, that judgment in 
 love affairs increases with growth in years. The fear of over- 
 population consequent on early and universal marriages we 
 have already shown to be baseless. 
 
 Next, the Coming Commonwealth will destroy the matri- 
 monial market. 
 
 When Wealth ceases to be a means of living by the labor 
 of other peoi)le, and especially when an honorable and easy 
 living is within her reach, we may suppose, that a woman 
 will rarely consent to marry for anj^thing but love, will no 
 longer consent to be bought to be a piece of furniture of any 
 western Turk. Here, again, it is the power of earning that 
 will confer true dignity on womanhood. 
 
 Again, this economic:il equality of woman will greatly af- 
 fect for the better her position as wife. 
 
 Our marriage laws are the code of the stronger, made by 
 lords for dependents. True, in many states of our Union some 
 modilicntions in regard to property have been effected in favor 
 of the wife. But even in that regard the enormity everywhere 
 j)rcvails, that the wife as survivor of her husband has only a 
 
EDUCATIOX. 225 
 
 more importance to the State than to parents, since the effects 
 of it will be felt by Society, and principally after these parents 
 are dead and gone. It is because through it Society accom- 
 plishes the end of its being, that all education is a \>nb\ic trust. 
 
 Just as little as parents will the many denominational and 
 private schools and colleges whiidi we now have do. Even 
 granted that the education in, saj'', the Quaker college of 
 Swarthmore is fully up to the standard of any public college, 
 the New Order cannot get along with such one-sided, awr}', 
 cramped men and women as necessarily must issue from such 
 a one-sided school. 
 
 Lastly, the same objection applies to the Family as 
 to the Church : it is incompetent to teach. That is the 
 main objection against Herbert Spencer's justly popular 
 book on "Education." He assumes throughout his treatise 
 (which might better have been called ''Home Training") 
 that parents are competent to teach their children. Why! 
 the fact is, th.it even now most children of the age of twelve 
 are more fit to teach their parents in all more important branch- 
 es than the reverse. If any man might be supposed qualified 
 to teach his son, it was James Mill, and yet we know from the 
 pen of John Mill that he would have been of greater ser- 
 vice to the world, if he had been trained in a public school. 
 Now it is true, that in the New Commonwealth mothers will 
 be tar better qualiliwd to assist in the development of their in- 
 fants than now, yet their general incompetency will still re- 
 main, on account of the higher grade of education which will 
 obtain. At all events, a sufficient objection is and will remain 
 thai seeming paradox, that oarents know none so poorly ajj 
 their own children; they prate of qualities which no hnpar- 
 tial person can discover. 
 
 The Coming Commonwealth must radically do away with 
 all and any form of quackery and amateurs hip, in education- 
 al matters especially. Education is essentially scientific labor. 
 A competent and qualified body of educators must therefore be 
 raised up to whom the whole function of education can be in- 
 trusted. 
 
 Teaching is now a "business" and a temporary one at that. 
 
226 EDUCATION. 
 
 To teach in order to got pocket- monoy, or wait for a chance 
 to get into sonn; other *" business," cr for a chance to 
 mairy. if the teacher is a woman as generally is the case, 
 does not ijualify for the grand ait. The time teaciiers in our 
 country practice their profession is simply their own trainins^ 
 period. We cannot have that genuine education which tlie 
 new Commonwealth will dcmnnd, before we have teachers who 
 have themselves been genuinely educated, next, thoroughly 
 trained as teachers and who then will devote themselves with 
 their whole soul to their profession. 
 
 Here again, and more clearly than at any other point, we 
 see how all-important, how indispensable the economic side 
 of the New Order is to all other progress. F»)r these teachers 
 will not be raised up, before we have given them a digniljed 
 position economically. Teaching is now a temporary '•'"busi- 
 ness," because it is one of the most unprofitable positions, 
 and because the teacher occupies a verj'- low round in the so- 
 cial ladder. In the New Social Order he will be rewarded 
 pioportionately to his important function and need take no 
 thought for his advancing age. Furthermore, he will be a 
 member of a cori)oratioM of the highest dignity in the State; 
 a coiiioration embracing the teachers in the most elementary 
 schools, as well as the professors in the various universities — 
 genuine universities for untrammelled scientific investigaticm 
 in all departments — and whose directors, superioi's and repre- 
 sentatives in the National Boat d of Administration we sliall 
 suppose elected and dismissed exactly as they will be in the 
 other departments. 
 
 This corps of educators will have in their exclusive charge 
 the whole education from top to bottom and all scientific in- 
 vestigations. They will be perfectly untrammelled, for such 
 a system will enable them to say to all charlatans in their (ic- 
 partment as the bakers, artisans and agriculturists can say 
 in theirs: '" mind your own business, sir I You are not com- 
 petent to say aught in this matter." 
 
 There is not the smallest reason to fear that this will result 
 in any si)iritual t3'ramiy, for tlie infhience of this theoretic 
 body ol men is sure to be counteracted by that Public Opinion 
 
EDUCATION. 227 
 
 of tlic practical majority which we saw will be of extraordi- 
 naiy force in the (Joniin.i^ Coninionwealth We ought ratlier 
 to hail such a sti-ouii: and independent organization of a class, 
 devoted to the cultivation of knowledge, as a healthy counter- 
 poise to that Public Opinion. We may also suggest that t!ie 
 present tendency of founding universities in every section 
 and almost every State of our coimtry (though so fiir it has 
 generally only lesidted in founding university biUldings) may 
 be the sowing of germs of many different centres of science 
 under the Mew Order, and thus contribute, as it has iu Gei- 
 manj'.to intellectual freedom and aii-sidedness. 
 
 Then, and not till then, W(> can begin to liave anj'thing that 
 deserves the name of education. Then, as we have noticed 
 several times, we shall have arrived at the true starting point 
 of the O)opcrative Commonwealth. It will thus be seen that, 
 even if all the conditions were ripe tomoiTow for the inaugu- 
 ration of the New Order, we could not hope to do anything 
 more in the gen'^ration, then living, than lay the foundation, 
 deeply and firmly, for its upbuilding; among otiier things by 
 training capable persons belonging to the second generation 
 to be the educators of the third— to h-ive charge <>f this thu-d 
 generation /;'0?w its earliest infancy till it reaches the adiiH ofjo. 
 
 Consider how many, many children are novv sent into the 
 world at an age. when those of wealthy parents are still iu 
 the nursery; consider that the average time children attend 
 school is in our cities but/fe. and outside our cities Imt throe 
 5'ears; consivler that such an "enlightened" state as Massachu- 
 setts requires only a yearlj' school-attendance of twcnty-Vjceks 
 of her children under fifteen years; consider that in spite of 
 this law 25.000 of her chikiren never have seen the inside of a 
 school-room; consider that 10.000 inftmts under ten years are 
 woiking in the factories of that same enlightened State ; * consid- 
 er that all overour couutrj\ with a/Z our children, schooling 
 stops when the thinking process really first conmiei'.ces. and 
 is it any wonder that our educational results arc wretched? 
 
 AVhy! the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth years con- 
 
 * For these facts see an article on '*■ Children's Labor *' in At- 
 lantic Monthly, December, 1880. 
 
228 EDUCATION. 
 
 Bi'tiite the most criticil period of a boy's life, and left to him- 
 solf he is. dnriiis: those years and until he become restrained 
 by experience, really one of the most daii2:or<)ns members of 
 Society. Tliat these boys turn out to be as noble men as many of 
 tliem do is a sufficient I )roof of the Inherent ofoodness of human 
 nature. But when the New Order has arrived, we shall be unan- 
 imous in acknowledijinu; that restraint is just needed as a sort 
 of astringent, to give maximum of power. We shall have 
 learned tliat a young man who is kept under close and contin- 
 ued discipline of proper persons till twenty-one is sure to have 
 a more vigorous and original character than one left to its own 
 devices at an age when mind is yet unformed. And as far 
 as our girls are concerned we shall yet sooner have learned a 
 similar lesson. 
 
 You will very likely doubt that such a radical change will 
 take place here where, preeminently, it is the practice to leave 
 the young men and women to shift for themselves. In the 
 same way many doubts might have been raised as to the suc- 
 cess of the common school system, judging from the opposi- 
 tion to it from so mnny quarters at its introduction. Yet 
 nearly all parents now avnil themselves of it, di'iven by an un- 
 conscious impulse. And so. when tlie Great Change occurs, 
 novelties will soon become fiimiliar. 
 
 But the greatest novelty will be the new ideal of education. 
 
 'i'hat is the only matter left us to consider. We have noth- 
 ing to do with what will be taught or how to teach it. That 
 we for our part shall leave to the competent; already too many 
 amateurs have had their say on that subject. But even those 
 now most qualified would be incompetent to frame a curricu- 
 lum for our future schools, for the ideal of education now will 
 bj" no means be the ideal of the Coming Commonwealth. 
 
 The ideal, the end souv'lit to be attained, now of education 
 is to enable the individital to achieve success in life, to gd the 
 hettrr of their fellowmen in the struggle for the good things of 
 this world. That is the meaning of Individualism. No mat- 
 ter that in the nature of tilings but few can achieve that suc- 
 cess, and that those who do succeed generally at the end of 
 
EDUCATION. 229 
 
 their career consider their siicctjss not worth the trouble, that 
 teacher is coasidcred tliebest vvlio best knows !iow t) qualify his 
 pupils for the battle of life. Tliat is why teachers stimuhxte 
 the ''ambition'' of their scholars with prizes, marks, relative 
 places in the school-room &c. That is also why they cram 
 their pupils with facts and commoi.-places of received opin- 
 ions and persist in tcachiii<jj them Latin and Greek so that tliey 
 may afterward quote classical extracts for the sake of eflect. 
 
 The end to be attained by educatiou iu the Coming Com- 
 monwealth will be a verj' different one. It likewise will be 
 to qualify the pupils for the battle of life, but against nature 
 aud ill accord icith their felloics. That is the meaning of Social 
 Cooperation. 
 
 In that Commonwealth prizes will not be used, because tiiey 
 only excite a few while leaving the mass phlegmatic; thoy 
 will be condemuid as anU-socia' . Perhaps in t heir place the 
 educators will have recourse to Bentham's suggestion of a 
 scholar-jury, scholar-suffrage, leaving it to the scholars them- 
 selves to determine by their votes the relative position of each 
 other in the school-room. That will be a proper extension of 
 the suffrage and will bring home to the minds of the pupils, 
 that all suffrage is a trust. 
 
 Conformably to that new ideal the scholars will be impressed 
 with gratitude for the blessings which all past generations 
 have conferred upon them, and it will be urged upon them 
 that they owe all to Societ3^ 
 
 They will be taught how to utilize all the sources of happiness 
 which Nature and the Commonwealth supply, for the New 
 Order will want them to have many tastes and needs. 
 
 But especially will they be taught to perform well their 
 functions in Society. 
 
 It will by that time be fully known, that a man trained for 
 one subject only never becomes a good judge in that one, even, 
 whereas enlightenment and enlargement of his circle gives 
 him increased power and knowledge in a rapidl}' increased 
 ratio. Therefore a harmonious and balanced cultivation of 
 all the faculties will be the first object. The pupils will be 
 taught all that is known, and though that field seems immense 
 
230 EDUCATION. 
 
 they will easil}'' master it, for they will be led to the bottom of 
 thiiii^s and learn the fundamental laws and the couneetion of 
 phenomena. They will be profound and complete human be- 
 iiisrs, all of them. We are tending more and more in that di- 
 rection ; that is vvh}- such incomplete men and women, as Pu- 
 ritans and Quakers, have hardly any of their old-time influence 
 left. 
 
 Again, a great deal will be done in order to find «»iit the pe- 
 culiar fitness of every child. Now next to nothing is done to 
 discover the natural aptitude of children, or to substitute choice 
 for chance in the allotment of the various social functions. 
 And so it may be said that the mistake which all teachers make 
 is to teach the same lesson in the same way to all. 
 
 But Goethe suggests in the second volume of his Wilhelm 
 Meister^ that every human being is born into the world with a 
 particular talent of some kind or other. In his opinion, it is 
 only requisite to recognize that particular talent in the childi 
 and foster it. in order to develop all its other faculties, and 
 that, if that talent be not found out and developed, it is the 
 fault ot the educator. lie grounds this suggestion of his on 
 the well-known pedagogic experience., that a teacher can suc- 
 ceed with even the dullest child, as soon as he manages 
 to win its interest for some object, whatever it may 
 be; in other words as soon as he succeeds in discovering 
 the drift of that inborn talent in the child. As soon, then, as a 
 scholar is incited to voluntary activit}' and llnds out that he 
 is able to accomplish something in some one direction, it would 
 be comparatively easy to awaken his sell-conlidence, so that 
 he will succeed in other respects. This special talent thus in- 
 sures the possibility that ever;/ healthy chila^ male and female, 
 may have all its human facidties hai-moniously developed. 
 
 Now we do not say, that it is remarkable that educators have 
 hitherto been entirely deaf to this important hint — for it is 
 not, considering the present ideal of education — but we can- 
 not help here to notice that an obscure teacher in Iloboken, 
 N. J., Dr. Adolph Dnuai, who, were the New Commonwealth 
 now in existence, wouhl undoubteilly be found in the front 
 rank of its leading minds, lias been the first and only profes- 
 
EDUCATION. 231 
 
 Bioiial educator who publicly has called attention to this sug 
 gestion. We may be sure that the Coming Commonwealth, 
 which can only furnish the necessary favorable conditions fof 
 the verillcatlon of this thought, will not be slow to utilize it. 
 The institutions that have already shown themselves specially 
 adapted to the discovery and unfolding of these latent talents 
 in children, are the Kindergartens. Though as yet but compar- 
 atively few of them exist in our country or elsewhere, those 
 who teach in them have been able to discern in mau}-^ children 
 geometrical talent and aptitude for the study of natural sci- 
 ences in whom otherwise nobody would probably ever have 
 suspected them. These Kindergartens the Coop'^rative Com- 
 monwealth will in all probability establish in all the nooks 
 and corners of the country, not to say in every family, as the 
 first and most important link in the chain of its educational 
 institutions. 
 
 Mr. Bain in his treatise on Education makes an important 
 obsei"vation which is pertinent here: "If from the beginning 
 one can interpolate five shades of discrimination of color where 
 another can feel but one transition, the careers of the two can 
 be foreshadowed as widely apart. To observe this native in- 
 equality is important in predestining the child to this or that 
 lino of special training." 
 
 This observation and predestination will be made in the Kin- 
 dergartens, where also a taste for manual work will be imbibed 
 at a very early age. Thereafter we suppose general educatiou 
 and special training will accompany each other, under the eye 
 of the teacher, till the child reaches adult age. We judge so, 
 not merely from considering the natural requirements of the 
 Commonwealth, but from observing the various attempts that 
 now are being made to find a substitut<» for that slavish and 
 wasteful apprentice-system which happily is a thing of the 
 past, by founding industrial schools, so-called "developing 
 schools," and trying to make them a part of oui* common- 
 school system. 
 
 We do not know whether this hypothesis of Goethe, that all 
 nonral men are capable of being educated up to the same 
 level of intelligence and kuowletlge, is true or not. We know 
 
232 EDUCATION. 
 
 of no fact tliat militates against it, but think there are many 
 facts tliat conlirm it. At all events, only the Interdependent 
 Conmionwealth can furnish the necessary condilions for its 
 vorilication. Should it be found true, it is easy to see that it 
 will prove of trinscendant significance as it will lay the foun- 
 dation for that perfect, absolute cqualitu which is the ideal of 
 Socialism — and yet, mark what an unlikeuess^ what a variety 
 there will be ! 
 
 As the boys will be really educated, so the girls will be. In 
 the New Commonwealth tlic)' will no longer be trained to 
 please the man-fool, or acquire only accomplishments which 
 give fullest scope to vanity, luxury and passion. No. they 
 will be equally fitted for their appropriate functions as mem- 
 bers of society, as wives and mothers, in institutions adapted for 
 them. The latter qualltication is important, for the motto which 
 is the prominent characteristic of tlie modern American school- 
 system, that ""boys' and girls' schools should be one, and 
 that one the boys' will surely be rejected by the Com- 
 ing Commonwealth, as one against which physiology pro- 
 tests. But the future woman will, by methods and regi- 
 men adapted to her sex, reach the same plane of knowledge 
 and intelligence as man and in that way become his equal and 
 true companioji. We shall then surely have complete men and 
 complete women. 
 
 But how can the State, when once it has taken charge of 
 education, draw a line where education ends and moral indif- 
 ference begins? 
 
 The great need of the age is to organize, diifuse and assim- 
 ilate that which is known. Humanity, indeed, does not now so 
 much need more Isolated hicts, as to understand how all these 
 facts are related to each other, and most of all, it needs to have 
 that deeper, real knowledge made common propertj'. Then 
 tirst we can enjoy all the fruits of the tree of knowledge. 
 Then, more particularly, we shall again reach a substantial 
 agreement of opinion as to this Universe in which we live, 
 what it means and what therefore is the part we ought to 
 play in it. The anarchy of o])inion of this transitory age is 
 ^ an enormous evil. Unity of belief is the normal condition of 
 
EDUCATION. 233 
 
 the hnmau intellect; it is just as natural for healthy men to / 
 think and believe alike, as it is for healthj- men to see alike. 
 
 When one harmonious sentiment thrills through the whole 
 of Society, we may expect a revival of the aestlietic sense of 
 ancient Greece. This Gilded Age with its so-called '' promoters 
 of the arts" create prostitutes of art. wlio exercise it, not for 
 lov^e of it, but to •' make" monej^by it. Imagine if you can, 
 a Raphael painting a Madonna, or Pliidias sculpturing an 
 Aphrodite for — profit! Art always is prostituted, when it 
 only serves the vanitj' of the rich. In the present age poets do 
 not sing for the masses, artists do not fashion their master- 
 pieces for the masses as during the Christian Middle Ages or 
 in classical Greece and IJome. 
 
 In Athens the whole i^eople in the amphitheatre witnessed 
 the spectacles, here — how different it is ! We have expensive 
 theatres where our comfortable classes can idle away their 
 time, but, as Beecher says, they are not for the f>oor. The 
 theatre to which the poor have entrance is perhaps the most 
 vitiating of all social institutions. If there is anything that 
 needs the helping, the reforming hand of the Commonwealth 
 ^xe should say it is the stage. It can be made the mightiest ed- 
 ucational instrument. In particul.'ir. manners and address can 
 be learned to perfection in the theatre, and only there. 
 
 MatthewArnold says, pointedly : " A handful of Athenians 
 of two thousand years ago are more interesting than millions 
 of our contemporary nations — because thf'y present us the 
 spectacle of a cultured joeop^e. It was the many in the highest 
 development of their humanit}' ; the mamj wdio relished these 
 arts and were satisfied with nothing less than those monu- 
 ments." 
 
 So in the Cooperative Commonwealth where care is forev<T 
 banished art will once more belong in the midst of the people, 
 because of its eminently educational importance. lie who 
 has learned to appreciate the Beautiful will never after have a 
 taste for the Low. Art will re-enter into the oj)en arena of 
 life. 
 
 But the greatest effect of this common education and com- 
 mon opinion will be the feeling of a common duty. 
 
J 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MORALS IN THE COOPEKATIVE COMMONT\ EALTH. 
 
 *' Ethics are the finest fruits of humanity but not its roots." 
 
 Mallodc's Neio Bepublic. 
 
 "^lan has it in liis power by liis vobuitary actions to aid tlie 
 intentions of Providence, but to learn those intentions he must 
 consider wliat tends to promote the general good." 
 
 John S. 3Iill. 
 
 '^Mnnkind. without any common bond, any unity of aim, 
 bent upon liappiness, has sougiit each and all to tread their 
 ow 1 paths, little heedino^ if they trampled upon the bo('ies of 
 their -brothers" ia name, enemies intact. This is the state 
 ot things we have reached today." — Mazzini. 
 
 "We have said that socialism, considered as simply an econ- 
 omic system, will have a great. influence, also, on morals — that 
 is to say, it will greatly affect our relations to what is •• right" 
 and '' wrong," •'• good" and *• bad," '•'' moral " and •• immoral" 
 and, though there is really no such thing as Socialist morals^ 
 may even affect our conceptions of what is '"right" and 
 '•wrong." 
 
 We have hitherto avoided, and pretty successfully we think, 
 all commonplaces, all words involved in mist. 'I'he above ethi- 
 cal terms are, however, such commonplaces. In order to bogin, 
 rigiit at the stnrt. to clear away the mist, we cannot do better 
 than quote George Eliot: 
 
 "• Let a CO itractor enrich himself by making pasteboard solet 
 
MORALS. 235 
 
 pass as leather for the feet of unhappy soldiers; let a spec- 
 ulator letire to private life on ten th(>usaiKl a year after cheat- 
 ing widows and hardworking fathers of all their savings, you 
 often hear charming women pity su<hmen, when they come 
 to grief, and exclaim : ^ lie is a thoroughly moral man,' mean- 
 ing thereby, tiiat he is not a drunkard or a debauchee. * * * 
 Is not this misuse of the word •* Morals*' a reason, why the 
 ablest intellects are supposed to look on morals as a sort of 
 twaddle for bibs and tuckers, as a mere incident of human 
 stupidity?'' 
 
 Now, to be sure, the economic changes which we have con- 
 sidered will contribute vastly to the establishment of what we 
 call the decencies. 
 
 Drunkenness, i. e. the habit of excessive drinking, which 
 our social ••reformers" pronounce the cause ot almost all 
 evil, is to the philosophic mind nothing but an effect, especial- 
 ly an effect of care. When care is banished, we may be sure 
 that drunkenness will be banisned also. It is absiu-d to sup- 
 pose that a happy young man will go and get drunk more than 
 once. Bear also in mind, that when the New Commonwealth 
 takes charge of the liquor traffic the dispensers of beer and 
 liquor will no longer have an interest in the quantities sold, 
 and none but pure and wliolesome products will be sold. 
 
 As to sexual irregularities we can say, that they will hardly 
 be heard of as soon as woman is put in a position to spurn the 
 bribes of man, and as soon as every young pair can marry 
 without any fear of consequences. 
 
 But it is far from us to limit ''Morals" to this slirunken 
 meaning. To explain what we mean then by the words ''right" 
 and "■• wrong" let us illustrate: 
 
 Men for thousands of years used the words ''up" and "down" 
 with reference to themselves, and the consequence was confu- 
 sion : what was '• up " to one in one place was " down " to him 
 in another place. It is only a few hundred j^ears back' that 
 we commenced to comprehend the real, the scicntijic meaning 
 of these terms: that ''down" means towards the cen- 
 tre of the earth, " up " away from that centre, and that 
 
236 MORALS. 
 
 to one suspendecl in space there is absolutely no " up " and n« 
 •' down." 
 
 In the same way thcolo^^ians presumed to tell mankind that 
 " good " and *' bad '' actions were to be judged from their ef- 
 fects upon the destiny of the actor. '• Sins " tliat were scarlet 
 could therefore under certain circumstance be made white lilve 
 snow. 
 
 Science, and with it Socialism, which bases itself on the ver- 
 ities of things, teaches that there would be no moraliry at all 
 if man did not need his fellowniun; that '-right" and *• wrong*' 
 have reforence. primaril}'. not to the individual actor, but to that 
 greater organism, called Sometif. 
 
 Gambling is wrong, is immoral, not because it tends to the 
 ruin of the gambler, but because he cannot win unless some- 
 body los3s ; because gambling, ihus, sears the sympathies 
 and, therefore, is essentially anti social. 
 
 ^'Rioht*' is every conduct which tends to the welfare of 
 Society : •• wrong " what obstructs that welfare. Bad actions 
 are no longer *• sins,'' but *' crimes," and crimes can never be 
 white as snow. 
 
 Now, human beings have already learned by experience that 
 they must act in a certain way under penalty of being unable 
 to act together at all ; tliat Society could not e.d>it at all with- 
 out Integrity; that it could not progress without Si/mpathy. 
 We may call integrity the basis and sympathy the crown of 
 Morals. 
 
 It will be seen that there is no such thing as absolute, 
 unchangeable morality. The different stages in the progress 
 of Society evidently require different standards; what was 
 right at one period may be eminentl3' wrong at a later period. 
 Thus if Slavery was, indeed, the first necessary step of our 
 civilization, the first lesson in cooperation, we must pronounce 
 Slavery to have been right then — and the fact that the best 
 men of antiquity: Socrates. .Tesus, Aristotle, acquiesced in it 
 tends to prove it so — however wrong it appears in the light of 
 a higlier morality. It, also, will be seen, that morals is truly 
 a science, a very subtle science, as it involves a correct phil- 
 osophy of Society, its tendencies and destiny. Is it any won- 
 
MORALS. 237 
 
 der that morals has hithorto been a tissue of rhetorical 
 and emotional commonplaces? Kefore anybody can sa^ 
 what is "right" conduct, and whether he is a truly'' moral" 
 man or not. lie must possess all the knowledge and mental de- 
 velopment which we have assumed will be the portion of everj'- 
 body when the New Soci.il Order is in full swing. 
 
 Dur to know what is •* right " is only one side of the great sub- 
 ject, rather the reverse than its front side. 
 
 The writer of this once listened to a very interesting lecture 
 b}' Carroll D. Wright, the head of the Labor-bureau of Alassa- 
 chusetrs on "our factory system," the leadingthought of which 
 was, that our imlustrlal system would be unobjectionable if 
 both parties, employers and employes, would only go dovu 
 to the foundation and be led by morality and religion. 
 Therein lurks a fundamental mistake, Col. Wright! 
 Morals are not the foundation, still less religion. They are 
 the top of our system. Interest — Self-interest — is the fowida- 
 tion^ the prime motor ^ the mainspring of our actions ; so it is, 
 has always been, and will always be. 
 
 "' Why should /do this thing ?" '" why should / not gam- 
 ble?" has alwaj^'s been the great practical question, and not 
 '•is gambling \vrong?" It is easy enough to gain intellectual 
 assent to a moral precept, but the trouble is that a man is 
 never tempted by things in the abstract, but when he does 
 something wrong he does it for the sake of some particular, 
 concrete thing. 
 
 There is then the greatest possible diflference between end of 
 and motive to morality : and nothing is. not even the most self- 
 sacriticingacts are, done without a motive. That which moves 
 must be primary. Now, Col. Wright I it is not our morality 
 or want of morality which makes our economic relations what / 
 they are, but our economic system that makes our morality 
 what it is. 
 That is the hinge on which this chapter turns. 
 
 In former chapters we have analyzed our economic relations. 
 Let us now see how it stands with our integrity and note the 
 relation there is between it and our economic system. 
 
238 MORALS. 
 
 First in order come the so-called crimes against property. 
 Robbery, bnrsjlary, larceny, embezzlement, common swind- 
 lin<?, murder and arson, when committed in pursuit of wealth 
 (and it is only in that connection we here have to consider 
 them,) are all acknowledged otfences against Society. And 
 probably no one doubts that there are more such crimes com- 
 mitted now than in any torm«'r Jige. To take one instance as 
 illustration : For a merchant to become bankrupt was form- 
 erly a life-long disgrace; now bankruptcies are so frequent, 
 that they are considered mere incidents of "business" and 
 are facilitated by law. It may be said that there are more oppor- 
 tunities for committing such crimes, but what we here want 
 to make clear is the simple fact, that these crimes are more fre- 
 quent now, i:i proportion to the population, than/, i. during 
 the Middle Ages — no matter how it comes. 
 
 But now we arrive at the first point that we wish to make. 
 Such practices as those above mentioned are the only ones 
 which we of this age stigmatize as cnwcs : we call by that 
 name only acts that may bring their perpetrators into the peni- 
 tentiary. Ought not, in view of the philosophic definition of 
 '•right" ami •• wrong" conduct, every grievous offence against 
 Societ}^ be so called? To be sure, in that case most of the 
 leaders of our self-styled *•' society" may come to be reckoned 
 as criminals. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher once told his congregation of mer- 
 chants, bankers, politicians and speculators : ''the laws against 
 larceu}'^ have no relations to me. I am on too high a plane to 
 be affected by any temptation to steal." In other words: 
 ''Thank God, that I and you. dear brethren and sisters, are 
 not on a plane with that rabble that commit crimes against 
 property ! " 
 
 Are they on a higher plane? 
 
 Herbert Spencer has shown, that Trade in England is essen- 
 tially corrupt and that there success in business has become 
 incomiKitible with strict integrity. It is certainly not better 
 here. Are the tricks of trade not offences against Society? 
 Is ••commercial cannibalism," as Spencer calls it, not a crime? 
 
MORALS. 230 
 
 Adulteration of provisions has everywhere become a socifi' 
 institution. Is that not ii crime? 
 
 Are the traps ingeniously devised by speculators for the 
 punishment of ignorance in people of small n)eaus, are the 
 corners gotten uj) in money, stock, wheat and pork not crimes? 
 
 Our late income-tax was repealed for the avowed reason, 
 that it coidd not be collected, becatise our rich men were far 
 moie ready to swear falsely, than to hand over a small per- 
 centage of their vast incomes. Were these rich men not crim- 
 inals? 
 
 It is a fact, that directors of gigantic corporations so man- 
 ipulate things, that the public is taxed heavily to pay divi- 
 dends on '"watered" stocks. Are these men less guilty, be- 
 cause powerful? 
 
 It is notorious, that our politicians are corru|)t from top to 
 bottom. Even if too '•high-toned*' to debauch voters, in per- 
 son, they are ready enough to raise corruption-funds, and , 
 never squeamish as to protiting by the bribery. Are these "emi- 
 nent citizens'* on "too high a plane" even according to the 
 ethical code of to-day? 
 
 But we shall have to go a good deal farther; we cannot af- 
 ford to compromise. In morals there is no difference between 
 •" legitimate '■ and ••illegitimate" offences against Society. 
 Everyone who pockets gains without rendering an equivalent to So- 
 ciet'j is a criminal. 
 
 Every milllDuaire is a criminal. 
 
 Ever}^ one who amasses a hundred thousand dollars is a 
 crimina 1. 
 
 Every president of a company with nominal duties, if hia 
 salary is but a thousand dollars, is a criminal. 
 
 Everyone who loans his neighbor ^100 and exacts $1()G ia 
 return is a criminal. 
 
 Again, it is a fact, that the mere transfer of products is a 
 very low order of labor, requiring only the most oi-dinary and 
 inferior kind of mental qualities, which, if it received simply 
 an equivalent in return, would be allowed but the very lowest 
 compensation. Yet it is that very mercantile class which ab- 
 sorbs all the wealth by every available form of deception and 
 
240 MORALS. 
 
 Strategy, while a thoroughly skilled artisan cannot possibly 
 amaso a large competence by the diligent prosecution of liis 
 trade. Tliis whole mercantile cl.iss is a criminal class in re- 
 gard to by far the largest part of their income; one of our 
 really dangerous classes — and the same applies to their cousins, 
 the tinancial class. 
 
 It is damnable hypocrisy in these mere dealers in products 
 and financiers when they pretend to any extraordinary ""exec- 
 utive ability;" they know in their hearts, that they have 
 but very little ability, very little skill. 
 
 It is hypocrisy, when the poor mechanic who by superior 
 skill produces all the wealth of the world is taught to look up 
 to those who only handle his products. 
 
 The whole integrity of our rulers can be summed up in one 
 word: cash -payment. 
 
 Our mechanics and artisans cannot be filled with too much 
 righteous hate against such shams. 
 
 And what about integrity in WORK? Well, it is bad at the 
 start that the duty of doing one's proper work well is entirely left 
 out of ''morals" in popular speech. And yet it is by work 
 that man takes his place among the creative forces of the uni- 
 verse. As has been well said : '' Thoroughness of workman- 
 ship, care in the execution of every task undertaken, as if it 
 wero the acceptance of a trust which it would be a breach of 
 faith not to discharge well, is a form of duty so momentous, 
 that if it were to die out from the feeling and practice of a 
 people national prosperity and happiness would be gone." 
 
 The absence of such integrity is a most conspicious feature 
 in the operations of modern industiy, and is the most lament- 
 able fact of all. It was not so during the despised AJiddle 
 Ages. Then every artisan felt a pride in his skill and in turn- 
 ing out good work. Now shoddy work is abounding. It has 
 3onic out in the investigations of the Trades-Unions in Eng- 
 land, that the men are required by their masters to *' scamp " 
 their vvork, that is. turn out inferior work and thatthi-: is just 
 the reason wiiy the masters are so determined to introduce 
 piecework instead of daywork. 
 
 Such is our integrity — the basis of our morals. This was 
 
MORALS. 241 
 
 the first point which it was necessary to establish : that our 
 '•best people" are criiniuals. If they themselves do not 
 know it, it is simply because their understandin.ir is being 
 cloiiilcd by their interests and the opportunities of tlie system. 
 
 If this hypocritiu age should frankly enunciate its moral 
 code, it would say : 
 
 Thou and thine may keep whatever thou canst get. 
 
 Carlyle has illustrated this in a drastic manner. He makes 
 one pig ask another : 
 
 *• What is justice?" 
 
 '• Your own share of the general swine' s-trough ; not any 
 portion of my share." 
 
 "'• But what is *• my' share?" 
 
 '' Ah, there is the rub upon which piggism can settle abso- 
 lutely nothing. My share? Humph! M\' share is, on the 
 whole, whatever I can contrive to get, without getting hanged 
 or sent to the hulks. *' 
 
 Now we come to our second point: how is ir that we have 
 so far attained to this low level of integrity? Why do people 
 steal, and rob and embezzle? 
 
 We claimed in the preceding chapter, that ignorance is not 
 the cause of such crimes. We saw there, that these crimes 
 are aboimding in tiie most educated sections of our own coun- 
 try. Indeed the most reprehensible of these crimes caniKtt be com' 
 mitted by ignorant persons. True, among the lowest criminal 
 class you lind much ignorance, but so you find much unclean- 
 llness, many dirty shirts, and frequently no siiirts at all. You 
 might, therefore. Just; as well, perhaps with more propriety at- 
 tribute crime to want of a shirt or of soap as to want of ed- 
 ucation. 
 
 More superficial yet is it to attribute the crimes we now are 
 discussing to drunkenness, simply because we find the low- 
 est criminals so often associated with poor beer and whiskej^ 
 Drunkenness has very little to do with these crimes, most oj. 
 whichy in fact., cannot be committed but by sober persons. 
 
 Herbert Spencer finds a suflicient reason for the persistence 
 and growth of crime in the fact, that the code of supernatural 
 ethics which our forefathers had is losing its authority, and 
 
242 MORALS. 
 
 thfi moral injnnctions, given by it, therefore) more and more 
 losing its s.'iiictlons. coii])1(m1 with thiit otlKM' fact, that while 
 the reffuhitive system of our forefathers is tlms (l^c:iying. we 
 have not j'et got any other regulative system to take its j)lace. 
 
 There is no doubt, that as long as people had a vivid dread 
 of purgatory and liell fire, tliat was a powerful spur to good 
 behavior. Yet. deliberate dishonesty and carelessness, so pe- 
 culiar to human worU alone, is so unnatural, that there must 
 be a weightier reason for this decline of integrity. Aiid then, 
 we verily believe, and have reason to believe, that every man 
 is naturally honest, and that the most inveterate thief would 
 have remained honest if there had not been some positive temp- 
 tation to lead him asti-ay. The decay of religion can never bo 
 more than a negative reason. 
 
 No, the oily rational way is to consider every such crime as 
 an act, preceded by a motive which, if it be but imperious 
 enough, it is not in human nature to withstand ; in other words 
 to look upon crime as essentially human. 
 
 And when you do that, can you wonder, that our jails are 
 full, when honest men are staiving? Is it strange, that men 
 in many of whom vagrancy has become a second nature — often 
 originally from no fault of their own — prefer larceny, or burg- 
 lary or swindling to toiling ten hours or more daily for a week- 
 ly pittance of -$5.00? Is it anything but human to use any 
 means to obtain wealth, when Society h.as made wealth the 
 sovereign power? When one reads in novels and witnesses in 
 plays how the hero and heroine are always rewarded by mar- 
 rying—wealth? AVhen one everywhere hears a man, in ever}' 
 way no better than himself, as *• worth " so many thousands 
 of dollars and sees him the admitted superior of the most 
 wcrthy of poor men? 
 
 The fact is our integrity is simply the fvmt of onr struggle for 
 life against each other^ and a river can rise no higher than its 
 source. 
 
 The economic system under which we are living creates all 
 these frauds, dishorn sties and this hypocrisy. Men Jind it 
 to their advantage to adulterate goods and to manufacture shod- 
 dy articles; indeed, our Established Order compels men to 
 
MORALS. 243 
 
 SPek their success in overreacliing others, makes it .1 nuMit iJi 
 them to bo irn^^erupulous. sini]>ly because eY< rybody"s ir.ten^sts 
 have been made antagoiiistic to the interests of every oth(>r 
 body. By this capitalistic sj'stem of ours Society has been 
 made the Imnting ground for the sliarpest individuals. 
 
 It is evident, that the longer this system lasts, the more will 
 these evils grow, for the struggle for life ;ind success will be- 
 come more and more intense ; wealth will come more and more 
 to mean power, and the chase after wraith, therefore, will be- 
 come tiercer and more savage. Sermonizing or leetuies on 
 Moral Philosophy have never affected and will never affect 
 any state of mind. Prize-essavs against embezzlement will 
 not diminish the frequency of this crime. 
 
 No. we just see here exemplitied wliat we stated in another 
 place. When our social order is to be changed into another 
 social order, (the case now. and in that other Bcepticnl 
 period before the introduction of Christianity) the change 
 commences from above; disorganization commences at the 
 top : with religion ; then it goes down to morals and down to 
 the foundation, until the base has changed its position ; then, on 
 the new foundation, on the new economic system, morals and 
 reiisrion will be rebuilt anew. Then the changed economic re- 
 lations will furnish new motives for an enduring morality. 
 
 Just as self-interest now is eating away the edges of morals, 
 so self-intei*est must build up morals, and that the New Com- 
 monwealth will make it do. It will make it men's interest to be 
 honest; will make them find their advantage in being men of 
 integrit}', simply because its very essence is making the inter- 
 ests of everybody identical with the interests of Society and 
 of everybody else. 
 
 The following reflections from an interesting work from 
 which we have quoted before : The Value of Life, written 
 it is understood by an eminent scientist of New York, are here 
 very pertinent : 
 
 *' It is no sentimentalism. but the simple expression of fact 
 that the individual occupations of the members of Society 
 cannot be adequately regulated, as long as they are regarded 
 merely as the means for each of these persons to get his or 
 
244 MORALS. 
 
 her living. By a crowd of official acts, from the inspection 
 of markets to taking tho census, Society, even as it is, expresses 
 its recognition of the fact, tliat this vast mass of activities, 
 constituting the 'business' of the comnumitj', represents tlie 
 sum of its own vegetative functions, by which all its life, from 
 the lowest to the highest plane of it, is sustained. In the dis- 
 charge of theso functions the mon"y or ' living,' earned by 
 each individual, is really the least important consideration. 
 Thus it is of much less importance, that a butcher grow rich 
 than tliat the thirty or fortj'^ families he supplies with meat 
 receive gO(xl meat at fair prices. Whatever value attaches to 
 the individual life of the butcher is multiplied forty times by 
 the sum of those of his customers; it is, therefore, their wel- 
 fare, not his profit which must be the first consideration. In 
 other words : The essential thing is, not that the butcher shall 
 have a living, still less be ricn. but that meM shall he supplied. 
 The how and where are secondary details, to be regulated not 
 by the convenience of the producer, but by that of the con- 
 sumer. 
 
 '' This indisputable line of reasoning overturns the theory, 
 that work is performed for the sake of the producer, (whose 
 advantage, indeed is quite subsidiary) and shows, that it is 
 primarily for the benefit of Society or some group of persons 
 in it. Of course, the worker, by entering into another group 
 where he is the consumer, finds his welfare correlatively taken 
 into account. The daily business is thus removed from the ig- 
 nominy andpettinessof isolated individualism and elevated into 
 an honorable function, while he who performs it becomes in- 
 vested with the dignity of a public functionary. That the 
 worker receives remuneration is incidental — that the work be 
 thoroughly done is so essential, that it is inseparable from any 
 typical conception of achievement." 
 
 That is it. In the New Commonwealth the butcher A\ill be 
 conscious and satisfied tiiat •' the essential thing is, not that he 
 shall have a living, but that meat shall be supplied." The 
 work of the citizen will be the glad perf trmance of so- 
 cial office, not, as now. the mere tribute to physical necessity, 
 lie will be a moral worker, whose best efforts, best ardor and 
 
MORALS. 245 
 
 highest anus will be drawn out by the joy which he takes hi 
 his work — in all but the lowest work, such routine, manual 
 labor as machinery should remove altogether from human 
 hands. He will soon be habituated to regard his wages, not 
 its a giaYZ pro gwo, but as amoral claim, as the provision made 
 by Society to enable him to carry on his labor. The question . 
 '•why should I do honest work'?'' will ^A^w seem just as ir- 
 rational as it is now to ask "• why should I eat?" 
 
 Most of the offences to which we have called attention will 
 disappear, simply because the oppoi-tunities for committing 
 theui will be gone. 
 
 And when in the Coming Commonwealth a few hours of 
 daily, agreeable effort will secure to everybody all necessaries, 
 decencies and comforts of lif(!, why then should any rational 
 being want to steal or cheat or rob? And why should anybody 
 want to make a living by crime, when it will be far easier to 
 make it by honest work? And why should anybody care to 
 procure wealth dishonestly, when wealth no longei- will mean 
 Power overmen? When wealth will not be able to coax the 
 meanest of men to be your footman and wear your livei-y? 
 When wealth simply will mean more to eat, more to drink and 
 more luxuries? 
 
 In short, the economic system of the Xew Commonwealth 
 will have two most important effects on integrity. First, it will 
 institute a higher moral code by giving us a truer conception of 
 what is •• right" and ' • wrong" conduct. It will thus make 
 us feel that the man who charges six per cent., or even one 
 per cent, for the use ot his money is just as much a criminal, 
 in principle, as the highway-robber ; that is, it will once more 
 make us call all interest-charge usury. 
 
 Secondly, it loill absolutely reverse motives. Instead of the 
 present Society saying; '• help thyself or go to jail! " the fu- 
 ture Society will help eveiybody by removing all temptation 
 to do what is wrong. 
 
 Here we hear some well-fed, well-clad personage exclaim: 
 '' So we are to have only negative virtues in your Common- 
 wealth ! " 
 
 Only negative virtues? Let us recall what Beecher said of 
 
24G MORALS. 
 
 himself: '* 1 am on too high a plane to be afl^ected by any 
 tenipt;itio;i to steal/' Of course he is ! With a yearly salary 
 of $20.()0lJ there is for him ever^'' temptation to refrain from steal- 
 ing. Is his thenanytiiing buta '• negative" virtue? He should 
 not. like the pharisee of old, speak so superciliously of his 
 '* h)fty plane." until he was in want of the necessaries and de- 
 cencies of life, with no honest way open to him to procure 
 tliem. We have in the foregoing seen what the •• lofty i)lane'' 
 of his congregation amoun's to; their principal virtue per- 
 haps consists in hating so heartily the offences of other people, 
 not in their set. 
 
 The difference between our so called '•'virtuous" and "vi- 
 cious" classes is far more a difference of teniptation than of 
 virtue, 'fhe virtuous [)erson can pride himself on very little 
 else than negative virtues; he is virtuous because everything 
 tempts him to be virtuous. Even so we want everj'^body, even 
 the meanest of men. to be tempted, and the Coming Common- 
 wealth will so tempt all. 
 
 Now we pass over to si/mpathy, the crown of Morals. 
 
 We have frequently throughout this work had occasion to 
 quote from Herbert Spencer. The reason is, that he is truly 
 the most profound of recent English philosophers, that his 
 iiilluence on all liberal minds in our country has been very 
 great, and that we cannot conceive of anj'- better way of prop- 
 agating socialist ideas than to show them to !)e the logical out- 
 come of the best modern thouglits. And Spencer's later i)hil- 
 osophy is really socialist. The best socialist lessons can be 
 drawn from his latest work : '' Data of Ethics," and especially 
 from the chapter on Sympathy. 
 
 Sympatliy is fellow-feeling. To sympathize is to make tho 
 pleasure and pain of our fellows our own; the former vre do 
 willingl}^ the latter unwillingly. W^e naturally sympathize 
 with pleasant. Joyful people; we with dilliculty sjnnpatiiize 
 with sorrowful and miserable persons. Anj'one can easily 
 convince himself of the truth of this, by one day attending a 
 funeral and the next day a wedding. 
 
 Jt is therefore but natural that sympathy grows, if those 
 
MORALS. 247 
 
 arouncl us babitu:illy manifest pleasure and but rarely pain, 
 while it decreases, if we ordinarily witness little pleasure and 
 much pain. It is also natural that sympathy at present grows 
 but little, since the life usually led under our present conditions 
 is such that suffering is daily inflicted or daily displayed by 
 associates. 
 
 And please observe that sympatlvj andpiY?/ are two greatly 
 different things. Sympathy requires equality ; pity regards 
 the object not only as suffering, but as weak, hence as inferior; 
 therefore the distresses of those beneath us excite only the same 
 sentinisnt as that with which we regard the suffeiing of an 
 over worked cart-horse. It is just because the occasional so- 
 called ''charities" of the wealthy have tluur motive in pity 
 and not in sympathy, that they lack all moral value, though 
 the following remarks of Prof. Adler are also true: '* Of 
 what avail would it be if one of the members of the great 
 monopoly which I have recently described were to found an 
 orphan asylum or to build a hospital? Should we really be 
 willing to clap hands as many are supposed to do and cry, Oh, 
 how charitable the man is I Why, he has not begun to give 
 back to societ}'' what he has taken from it in the tiist instance, 
 much less that he should claim credit to himself for his char- 
 itableness." In such cases '" charity " is nothing but huah- 
 money. 
 
 And for the very reason that there can be no sympathy with- 
 out equality, we in a former chapter denounced the subjection 
 of emplo3'e to employer as demoralizing. We now* wish to 
 speak of a relation than which nothing in the present consti- 
 tution of Society is more essentially vicious and morally in- 
 jurious : the relation of domestic servants to their " masters " 
 and '• mistresses." We called the wage-workers' condition 
 substantial slavery; that of servants is servitude in substance 
 and form. 
 
 American society has wofully retrograded in this respect. 
 In the beginning of this century Americans spoke of their 
 '•help;" now it is everywhere "servants!" This is ?io< a 
 mere difference of words, but involves a degradation in posi- 
 tion. The servant drops hersurname, a veritable degradation, for 
 
248 MORALS. 
 
 ft marks her as a person henceforth of no social account ; she is 
 spoken to onlj'- to receive orders ; she abandons family life, an 
 ordoal not required by out-door workers; sbeis day and ni^^lit 
 subject to the bid(lin«^ of master and mistress, and may be 
 called to account for every hour out of the twenty-four. We 
 think it very much to the credit of American women, that they 
 refuse thus to deg-rade themselves. They are in pleasing ton- 
 rrast to the so-called '' men " who consent to perform menial 
 services for others for — money, or who even with apparer '• 
 satisfaction act as the liveried flunkeys of our money-bagi 
 Our wage-workers at least keep alive the spirit of discontenv 
 but who sver imagined that our flunkeys could be rebels? 
 
 "We cannot withstand the temptation once more to bring foi 
 ward our friend, the uncompromising abolitionist, to point i 
 moral. He, by nature the kindest of men. a champion of tht 
 Eights-of-Man theory, once commended the English men-ser- 
 vants compared with American specimens and said : "when 
 I pay a man to be a servant, I want him to be a servant.*' 
 Suppose a slave-holder once upon a time bad said in his hear- 
 ing : ••' T bought him for a slave and I want him to be a slave " 
 what would li<; have thought of such an argument? Thus 
 this system of rich and poor, of master and servant, demoral- 
 izes the best of us, for it nourishes our ''love of lording it," 
 which is the greatest obstacle to the growth of sympathy. 
 
 It is, moreover, evident that the insolent individualism which 
 IS the moving power of our present indu«itrial system necessa- 
 rily stifles all sympathetic sentiments. It incites men to pur- 
 sue their individual happiness in complete indiflference to their 
 fellov/s. When Herbert Spencer was here, he told us that he 
 had observed, that Americans do not resent small trespasses. 
 Why, if any passer-by would resent having to force his tortu- 
 ous way on sidewalk*, crowded with boxes, or having his face 
 and clothes covered with the sweepings from our stores, he 
 would make himself ridiculous! Spencer got the cart before 
 the hor«e. Every individual here is a sovereign and says like 
 Vanderbilt: ''the dear public be damned!" — and acts accoro» 
 mglv. 
 
 Sympathy however has proven itself a far stronger forci 
 
MORALS. 219 
 
 tlian individualism. The views we now hold on the subject 
 of Slavery compared with those held by the (^ood and wise of 
 oJd prove the growth of sympathy during the whole historic 
 period of man. And please mark, that even during this indi- 
 vidualistic, sceptical age, in which integrity has so wofuHy 
 deteriorated, sympathy has constantly been on the increase. 
 The evidences thereof are on every side. Look at all the hu- 
 mane institutions in every nook and corner of our land — asy- 
 lums and hospitals for every sort of misfortune and malady. 
 Consider how ready men were to inflict bodily tortures a (^onple 
 of centuries back and how anxious we now are to avoid doing 
 so. Think of the penal code of medieval England and contrast 
 therewith our treatment of criminals. Observe linall}^ the rel- 
 ative frequency of the crimes themselves: while crimes 
 against property hav^e notoriously Increased, those of brutality 
 and passion have just as evidently grown less as well in num- 
 ber as in atrocity. 
 
 Just as we did not have to go very far to look for the reason 
 of the backward state of integrity, so the reasons for the growth 
 of sympathy are easy to find. Pain has been constantly on 
 the decrease and pleasure as constantly on the increase; that 
 is to say. we are much better clad, sheltered and fed than our 
 ancestors were ; many plagues which decimated our forefathers 
 during tlie Middle Ages have been entirely extirpated; many 
 others of their diseases have been considerably alleviated. 
 Thus, again, we find our principal proposition substantiated, 
 that it is material prosperity that is the basis for all improve- 
 ment, that economic relations are the foundation of even tlie 
 liighest form of morals. 
 
 And in this conquest of sympathy over individualism we have 
 another evidence, of the most convincing force, that we are irre- 
 sistably drifting towards Socialism. Why, even Spencer foresees 
 '* an advanced social state where the manifestations of pleas- 
 ure preilominate and where sympathy, therefore, will reach a 
 height that we cannot now imagine.*' 
 
 And what kind of '• advanced social state *' has Spejjcer here 
 in his mind ? Hear him ! 
 
 "The citizens of a large nation, industrially organized^ have 
 
250 MORALS. 
 
 reacheil their possible ideal of happiness when the producing, 
 distributing and other activities are sucli, tliat each citizen 
 finds in tlieni a place far all his energies and aptitudes while 
 he obtains the means of satisfying all his desires. 
 
 ""And we can imagine the eventual existence of a commu- 
 nity where, in addition, the members are characterized by em- 
 inent aesthetic faculties, and achieve c()m|)lete happiness only, 
 when a large part of life is tilled by aesthetic activities.'" 
 
 In these words Spencer, on whom tlie word '"Socialism" 
 probably has the same effect that a red cloth has on any healthy 
 bull, has drawn an admirable picture of — a Socialist State, 
 our Cooperative Commonwealth. 
 
 For in the Commonwealth that we have sketched in the pre- 
 ceding pages everybody will certainly find "a place for all 
 his energies and aptitudes" and obtain "• means of satisfying 
 all his desires." 
 
 Jn that Conimonwealth ignorance and uncleanliness will dis- 
 appear. Ev<^n so bodily pains, for we may br sure that med- 
 ical science and, especially, a developed public h3'-giene will 
 xevy soon have redntjcd pln'sical suffering to a minimum. 
 
 In that Commonwealth will be found tnat necessary condi- 
 tion of sympath}^ which Spencer ignores: substantial, perhiips 
 absolute, equalitfj. The relation then, corresponding to our 
 '"domestic service," will at all events be a moral— a sympathetic 
 relation: that is, domestics will be incorporated in the family, 
 as members of it. No one then, surely, will be so slavish as to 
 accept the position on less honorable terms. 
 
 "Is the man crazy?" some will here exclaim, ''no one to 
 black our boots, brnsh our clothes, sweep our rooms, attend 
 us !it meals, nurs" our children I No one to look after our com- 
 fort I No one to answer, when we call "Put.' * John ' and * Bridg- 
 et ! ' Th:it will be a nice sort of life, indeed ! " 
 
 We r.'ally think you vvillhave to "• look after your comfort " 
 yourself; most of your fellowmen, many of them far more 
 worthy than you. now h:ive to do tliat. At the public places, of 
 course, you can havr all your wants supplied and j'ourself at- 
 tended to, but mark ! by persons, as much public functionaries 
 iis you yourself will be, and conscious of being so, and 
 
MORALS. 251 
 
 whom you r^annot familiarly call •' Ben " or '^ John,"' ex- 
 cept on an equal footing. But at home you will have to be 
 '•'•served" b^^ members of your fainily and such people whom 
 your personal qualities will attach to your person. 
 
 That Commonwealth, we insist, will be Spencer's •' advanced 
 Eocial state" where sympath}' will attain such a growth, that 
 we now hardly can conceive of it; fjr we firmly believe with 
 John S. Mill, that "the present wretched social arrangements 
 are the only hindrances to the attainment by almost all of an 
 existence, made up of a few and transitory pains and many and 
 various pleasures." 
 
 We have already considered some of the fruits of that high- 
 er morality wliich thus will be the natural outcome of better 
 economic conditions. We may now add that not only 
 cri;ne3 against property, whicli we discussed under the head 
 of '-integrity." but all forms of crime will i)robab]y be prac- 
 tically unknown 
 
 Crime, i;i all its forms, is an evidence of the neglected re- 
 sponsibilities of Socicry. exactly as the plagues of the Middle 
 Ages were the proofs that the laws of health were disregard- 
 ed. Now we have a daily birth of so many infants, so imbed- 
 ded in criminality, that you might lay your hands on each and 
 s.iy, that if not rescuid by something akin to a miracle, this 
 child is, i!ievitabl3% destined to a criminal career. It is a sad 
 retlection that infanticide would in their cases be absolute mer- 
 cy I Yet the State stands by with folded arms, cares not a 
 straw for tliein. permitting them tj be trained to crime, fur- 
 nishing them even temptations, until it catches them with its 
 implacable arms and — strangles them. For mark I children 
 and young persons — and old persons, too, fjr that matter — 
 are led into a crnuinal career from preeisely the same reasons 
 that keep proper peoi)le from such a career : temptation, ex- 
 ample and love of approbation. 
 
 The New Order w411 do away with crimes against property — 
 "legitimate," such as the law now takes no notice of. as well 
 as '"illegitiinate " — by teniipting all the right way. It ^vill do 
 away with crimes of brutality and passion b}' its thorc ugh 
 education and exalted symxjathy. For this class of Crimea 
 
252 MORALS. 
 
 does, certainly, depend upon the "plane "-up to which one 
 has been edncated. As to such crimss Beecher might, with 
 propriet}', say of himself, that he is on too high a plane ever 
 to be tempted to commit them, though a given occasion 
 might prove, thnt he was mistaken even in that. In other 
 words, criminals will be foiuid to be what all socalled '" nui- 
 sanceo" at bottom are: useful matter in wrong places. 
 
 Of courso, for the first few generations the New Order will 
 still have some criminals on its hands. In order to show, that 
 Socialists are not influenced by any peculiar sentimentality in 
 favor of criminals, let us state that we perfectly agree with 
 Ilerbert Spencer, who would give convicts the barest of boards 
 to rest on and nothing but cold water to support themselves 
 on, until they force themselves — by an internal coercion which 
 they can carry with them out of prison — to work for their 
 necessaries of life and whatever comforts thej'' desire, with- 
 out subjecting tlieni to any unnecessary pain and degradation 
 as now they are subjected to. But that, also, can only be prop- 
 erly accomplished in the New Commonwealth, whore convict 
 labor will become an integral part of the cooporativ*; labor of 
 Society. Convicts will there,certainly, not be utilized by con- 
 tractors to paste leather and pasteboard together to make a 
 thick sole impose upon the public, as is said not to be unfre- 
 quently the case now. 
 
 But the most glorious frnit of this higher morality, the one 
 that ought to be most highly prized, will be this : that a com- 
 plete accord, a perfect conciliation, will at last be elfected be- 
 tween two hitherto irreconcilable sentiments, self-love on the 
 one hand, and regard for our fellow-citizens and the public on 
 the other. 
 
 We have several times impressed upon our readers the fact 
 that Socialists take human nature as it is and we have claimed 
 that to be one of their greatest merits. It will also have been 
 noticed that our Commonwealth is built on self-love in robust 
 vigor as on its corner-stone. Every man is necessarily his 
 own centre, we hold; he can, as has been said, no more 
 displace himself from self-interest than he can leap off hia 
 own shadow. 
 
MORALS. 253 
 
 Xow we already have, as Spencer has observed, instances 
 of complete accord between self-love and love for otliers. We 
 find it ill the relation of a mother to her child and of the lov- 
 \ni^ husband to his wife. 
 
 Is the mother who is watchin*^ day and night over lier sick 
 cliild and thereby imperilling her own health devoid of self- 
 h»ve? Is it not the fact that she is exactly gratifying herself 
 in acting as she does? 
 
 Go to the bottom and you will find that her sacriflce is made 
 from a direct desire to make it. is made to satisfy an egoistic 
 sentiment or craving, and the strengtli of that egoistic senti- 
 ment is shown in a peculiarly strong light by the adoption of 
 children by the childless. 
 
 In the same manner the husband is truly egoistic, when he 
 makes sacrifices for tlie belov<id wife. 
 
 Now. in the Cooperative Commonwealth, where perfect har- 
 mony will obtain between the interests of each citizen and 
 those of the citizens at large, just as it now obtains between 
 the members of a well-ordered famil}'. there the final devilop- 
 ment of sympathy will in time merge self-love and regard for 
 our fellow citizens into a concord, kindred to that between 
 husband and wife and parent with children. A kindred con- 
 cord we say, not exactly a like concord. 
 
 We shall gain pleasure by giving pleasure, but we shall not 
 be thinking of tlie sympathetic pleasure gained, but only of 
 that given. We even shall in the N"evv Commonwealth will- 
 ingly atid with supreme satisfaction do acts of trne self-sacri- 
 fice. The explanation of that seeming contradiction is, that 
 cases involving self-sacrifice will in that Commonwealth be- 
 come so rare and therefore so liighly prized, that they will be 
 unhesitatinglj' preferred and not at all felt as self-sacrificing 
 acts; just as we even now sometimes hear it said of some- 
 body : *' Let him take the trouble : it pleases him to do so." 
 
 It will from all this be seen that we by no means want to 
 " reform " men. We do not claim that under Socialism men 
 or women will be any hotter than they now are or ever have 
 been. We want to reform their surroundings^ the constitution 
 
254 MORALS. 
 
 of Society, the mould in which thoir lives, thoughts and fccl- 
 li);xs are cast. 
 
 Socialists want to make it the interest of all to he honest, to 
 make it to the advnntane of all to furnish their best work, 
 to make it ??,r<^?rmrfor men tolovethoir neiiJjhbors as themselves. 
 
 Socialists want all to be able to rake a deli2:ht in life for its 
 own sake and in everything that ministers to it, and that is the 
 end of morals. 
 
 *' Yes, it is well enough to enable people to take delight in 
 this life. Knt it is related of Samuel Johnson, that he once 
 exclaimed on being shown over a magnificent estate: ' Aye, 
 sir! these are the things that make death bitter.' It is vain 
 to bid men excludethethonghtof immortality from their minds, 
 and think only of making the best of this life and that is what 
 we understand Socialists mean them to do. We understand 
 that Socialists mean to drive religion entirely out of the 
 world." 
 
 You misunderstand us, friend ! We do not propose to drive 
 religion out of human life. But what is religion?'' 
 
 It is with *• religion '* as with •• democrac}' ; '' to revert to the 
 foreign words from which they are derived helps us very little 
 to get a'^ the essence of what we mean when we use these 
 terms. According to its derivation " religion '' means the res- 
 toration of a broken bond, it is understood, between earth and 
 heaven. Now, that there is a broken bond to restore, was 
 a fact to our forefathers; at present it is to all but simple- 
 minded people a theologic fiction. If, however, by '^ relig- 
 ion"" you mean this dogmatic theology. Socialists do propose 
 to help drive it out. Socialism is the inveterate foe of theolo- 
 gy — a fact of which the Pope is well aware, wherefore he is 
 perfectly right in damning it — because Socialism is abreast 
 with the h.ighest intelligence of the time, and the highest in- 
 telligence of all progressive countries is at issue with what, 
 only by a stretch of courtesy, may be called the popular re- 
 ligion. This, w^e hold, is a most mischievous state of a(T;iirs, 
 latal tosincerit3^ and creating, on the. one hand, in the masses 
 of the people a chilling, conceited scepticism in regard to 
 
MOT7ALS. 255 
 
 everytliiii.j? that cannot be touched or h.'.ncnecl. or gU ing rise, 
 on the other hand, to sickly spiritual hallucinations. Ail that 
 in the future will be needed to drive this theology entirely out 
 of human life is to continue that ••Titanict laUji:liter — thai tt^^r- 
 rible, side-shaking, throne-and-aitar-shaking laughter'' — which 
 Ifabelais started. 
 
 That which is now meant by '"• religion " is the view we hold 
 of our relation to the great mystery which is all around us, 
 in time as well as in ?pace, and the awe we naturally feel\vheii 
 we think of it. We do not propose to drive religion in 
 that sense out of the world, because it cannot be done, even 
 if we wanted to. Comte tried it and only succeeded in doing 
 what children do who are afraid of the darkness : they pull 
 the bedclothes over their heads and pretend there is no dark- 
 ness beyond. Xor are Socialists, like the men of the French 
 Revolution, going to commit sucli puerile follies, as either to 
 decree a deitj'' out of existence or decree him back again. 
 
 But there is not the least doubt that just as the new econo- 
 mic system will greatly modify the family-relation, education 
 and morals, so it will mightily affect religion, as we have now 
 defined it. For, please mark this important fact, that as mor- 
 als and education are the fruits of our economic relations, so 
 religion is the fruit of our morals and education. The latter 
 are primary : our gods are but the reflections of our moral and 
 intellectual state. The religion of a nation is the outcome of 
 its highest intelligence in its most solenni moments. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the idea of immortality has hitherto 
 been an integral element of everything that deserves the nan)0 
 of religion, that our whole race has and has had a deep and 
 secret longing for life beyond the grave. This longing may be 
 tlue to the fact that this world was to the masses a veritable 
 "' vale of tears; " it has at all events been fostr-red by Cathol- 
 iclsm and other so-called ''religions," whose whole strength 
 consisted in offering a consolation to people who felt misera- 
 ble here. It is just possible that when men all live to a good , 
 old age and get out of this life all the delights which nature 
 permits, that this longing itself will disappear. But this long- 
 
25 G MORALS. 
 
 ing does exist in the breast of mankind at present, and is no- 
 where stronger than in the Anglo-Saxon race. 
 
 Now, wlu'thcr this longing for and belief in immortality is 
 to be a part of the religion of the fntnre is impossible to fore- 
 see. We can only say with Prof. Goldwin Smith : 
 
 •'Suspense of judgment and refusal to accept the unknown 
 as known is the natural frame of mind for any one who has 
 followed the debate with an unprejudiced understanding and 
 who is resolved to be absolutely loyal to truth. To such a 
 one existence is an unfjithomable and overwhelming mystery. 
 But let not this suspense of judgment intimate a negative de- 
 cision. For a negative decision the hour has certainly not yet ar^ 
 rived^ especially as the world has hardly yet had time to draw 
 breath after the bewildering rush of physical discovery." 
 
 We may also add, that Science knows as yet next to noth- 
 ing about the Mind; there are, however, great promises in 
 that direction in the near future. It is by studying the dis- 
 turbances of Nature, that Science has succeeded in penetrat- 
 ing some ot her inmost mysteries, and even so it is by watch- 
 ing the disturbances of the mind, that Science already has given 
 us glimpses of hitherto unknown powers of the mind. Thus 
 by the study of cataleptic patients it has already been demon- 
 strated, that the Mind has extraordinary capacities, independ- 
 ent of the orderly agency of its bodily machinerj'-, and that its 
 perceptions in that condition are as much realJti«^s as those of 
 its ordinary condition, it is impossible to say, what light may 
 not he thrown on the question of personal immortality, when 
 once this rich mine has been worked out by Science; then ""the 
 hour nuiy have come for a decision,"' one way or the other. 
 ]t seems however to us, that the tliought of living a thousand 
 years hence somewhere with personal identity miimpaii'cd, 
 is so rapturous and so inspiring that mankind will not feel in- 
 clined to relinquish it vuitil Science lays down its veto. 
 
 But whatever may be the fate of the immortality-theory, 
 we can be pretty sure tht't our race will again be i)ractically 
 unanimous on some religion, as they will be on all in)portant 
 matters. They probably will never know whether they 
 have found the objective truth or not. but that is not of 
 
MORALS. 257 
 
 first importn nee. for obsen;e that religion is subjective, is the 
 human view of the mystery and our relation to it; if the mys- 
 tery is ever reveuled it will cease to be an object of religion. 
 But some theory of life is needed to give harmony, purpose 
 and vigor to active life, and they will certainly agree on such 
 a theory as will explain the mystery to them and satisfy their 
 highest intelligence. This is not the place to state the thoughts 
 which the wiiter of this has on that subject. 
 
 Let us only say that this future religion will make this world 
 a real one. The existing reh'gions fail to satisfy mankind' 
 especially because they inculcate that this present existence 
 is vain and that all the affairs of this world arc i)etty and w orth- 
 less; that some other w-orld is the real one. 
 
 The religion of the future, besides, will lay special stress on 
 o\\Y interdependence ; \i \\\l\ te:<\i\\ men t\\i\.t the only way in 
 whichthey can enter into vital relations with the Great Mystery- 
 is through Humanity^ Socialism, in other words, will elevate 
 religion from being a narrow personal concern between the in- 
 dividual and his maker into a social concern between Humanity 
 and its Destiny. Humanity will not become a god, as Conite 
 would have it, but the mediator between man and the Mystery. 
 
 When at some time you are lying sleepless in bed in the solemn 
 hours ol the night, do what I often have done : project j'our- 
 self into space and fancy the insignificant little planet whicli 
 is our dwelling place rolling swiftly past you, swarming with 
 its ant-colonies of kings and beggars, capitalists and workers, 
 all in the hollow of the hand of that Great Mj'^stery ! Is not 
 that a train of thought that should make manifest to us the 
 *• solidarity." the interdependence of mankind? What is more 
 natural than that each of us should desire and try to help our 
 species along on the road to its destiny, since the ability has 
 mercifully been granted to us to cooperate with that Will of 
 Liic LniverjsL' vMiini uiir own nature t?uggests to us! 
 
 ^Vlio can then deny that Socialists are religious inthehigh- 
 est sense of the world? Our creed can be expressed in these 
 words of the preacher of Village Politics ; 
 
 '• The modern Christ would be a politician. His aim would 
 be to raise the whole platform of modern society. He would 
 
258 MORALS. 
 
 not try to makf the poor contented witli a lot in wliicli tliey 
 cannot be much better than savages or brntes. He would 
 work at the destruction of caste, which is the vice at the root 
 of all our creeds and institutions. lie would not content him- 
 self with denouncing sin as merely spiritual evil; he would 
 go into its economic causes, and destroy the flower by cutting 
 at the roots — poverty and ignorance. He would accept the 
 truths of science, and he would teach that a man saves his soul 
 best by helping his neighbor." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 
 
 "Be careful, sirs! how you jndofe God's revolutions as the 
 products ot man's invention." — Oliver Cromvell. 
 
 '' The Revohition is a \vorl<; of the Unknown, Call it good 
 or bad, as you yearn towards the Future or the Past.'' 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 *' Twas but the ruin of the bad. 
 The wastino^ of the wjong and ill, 
 "Whatever of ^ood the old time hud 
 
 "VVas living still." 
 
 WJiittier. 
 
 We commenced this book by quothig these words from a 
 dialogue in "■ The Nineteenth Centurj'^: " 
 
 '^ We see that political systems in all progressive societies 
 tend toward socialistic democracy. We see everywhere that 
 it mtiM come to that. We all of us feel this conviction, or all 
 of us, I suppose, who have reflected on the matter. We feel, 
 too, that nothing we can do can avert or possibly long delay 
 the consummation. Then, we must believe that the movement 
 , is being guided, or is guiding itself, to happy issues." 
 
 We now add the response immediately follo^ving, from the 
 same dialogue: 
 *• Hope that the inevitable may prove the ultimately desirable. 
 
2 GO THE COMING REVOLUTION. 
 
 but act towards It in public affairs as you do in private, i. c— 
 ignore it altogether!-'' 
 
 It is, of course, two of '-our best people" who thus dis* 
 course. The one who warns his friend that the ;)oZz7zcrt? S3's- 
 tems of all progressive countries are drifting towards '* social- 
 istic'* democracy is uncommonly far-seeing and candid, lie 
 is undoubtedly right; the simple fact that household-suffrage 
 was introduced in his country under lory auspices proves it. 
 But he is not profound enough. Political phenomena are mere- 
 ly the straws on the surface that show the direction of the cur- 
 rent. That all the tendencies are and, especially, that the un- 
 dercurrent is towards Socialism, towards Social-Cooperation, 
 is the principal p]'oposition of these pages. 
 
 Of the surface-tendencies there are, moreover, several of 
 more significance than the political symptoms. Such are : the 
 success of our common-school system and the efforts in other 
 *' progressive societies" by the State for the education of the 
 masses; the fact that, though '• Individualism" is rampant 
 enough, practically, as a doctrine it is declining in the Protes- 
 tant countries that gave it birth, and that the sects that wore 
 its apostles are now of next to no influence; and, most signifi- 
 cant of all, the remarkable growth of fellow-feeling among 
 the masses, due to the concentration of the workers in ov.r 
 cities, for there man meets man and spirit quickens spirit and 
 intercourse breeds sympathy, and sympathy combination and 
 enthusiasm, while the agriculturists remain comparatively un- 
 sympathetic and weak on account of their isolated situation. 
 
 liut the undercurrent is the decisive factor. We mean the 
 force that is unfolding the inaterial, the industrial relations of 
 life. Already Goethe i-emarked of animals that subordination 
 and difference of parts is the measure of the height of their 
 organization; we have learned that precisely the same applies 
 to the social organization. This undercurrent manifests itself 
 in the concentration of manufactures, of transportation, of 
 conunerce, and in the rise of large farms ; in short, in the growth 
 of monopolies. These, however, furnish us no halting place. 
 For while these luonopolies, on the one hand, have immense- 
 ly increased the productivity of labor, they have on the other 
 
THE CO^nNG PtE VOLUTION. 261 
 
 i^and, "boen unable to furnish the requisite effective demand 
 tlowever paradoxical it seems the resulthas been, that our hir^e 
 jiccessions of wealth and comfort have created an extended 
 sense of unhappiness. As a consequence the undercurrent 
 carries us beyond individual monopolies and calls forth the 
 popidar cry for collective control of material interests, first 
 of all, of telegraphs and railways. 
 
 Now riglit here this current meets another, a parallel current : 
 that which has been propelling the State unwillingly, in oppo- 
 sition to all received theories, to take charge of one social ac- 
 tivity after another ; a tendency that perhaps can be made 
 clear in no better manner than by stating that the national ex- 
 penses of England were in ISH forty times as great as in IGSo, 
 while the population had only trebled — of England where the 
 doctrine of " let alone " has had undisputed authority I 
 
 Kowthe exercise of national authority has been extended In 
 our country in the last generation we have already noted, and 
 we are convinced that this centralization so-called would have 
 been Justas irresistible, though perliapsslovver. if the Democratic 
 party had been in power — look at the alacrity with which the 
 Democrats vote f >r appropriations for rivers and harbors ! The 
 proposition of such an astute politician as Blaine to make the 
 National Government the tiscal agent of the States and the deep 
 impression it has inade is another sign of the times. But onr 
 civil war, of course, was the giant step of our social evolution, 
 and it is very dilicult to decide, whether its main issue, the 
 Union, or its side issue. Slavery, will prove of most importance. 
 All other progressive countries, however, have kept pace with 
 us. The struggles for nationality everj'-where have migiitily 
 advanced the evolntion of the social organism. Even the 
 enormous standing armies of the European continent do this. 
 us does everything that drills the masses as a whole and that 
 teaches the people to work in concert. Wliv, it is through the 
 German standing army that the German peasant has become 
 accessible to ^oci.dist ideas I 
 
 Ruckle lays it down that " the movements of nations are 
 perfectly natural; like others, they are determined solely by 
 their aiitecedeuts." We may, in passhig, re uaark that the fact 
 
262 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 
 
 that tliis view is now tlio ficenerally .adoptod one, the fact that 
 the hiw of evohition has been diseovered and recognized as 
 governing also Societies, is itself an important step of the so^ 
 cial evohition. In the light of that philosophy it is easy to 
 see tliatonr whole civilization has been a lesson in cooperatiou, 
 that slavery was the first lesson, that serfdum was the second, 
 that onr present wage-system is bnt a niodilied form of tlie 
 hitter, and that socird-cooperation, State Cooperation^ Socialism^ 
 is to be the system of the future, for this id^a is in harmony 
 with all antecedents and all our surroundings, and our whole 
 age cooperates with it. 
 
 However, there is something else of importance to be noted. 
 Herbert Spencer, as we have seen, is one with iis in holding 
 that Society will in the course of evolution arrive at '• an ad- 
 vanced social state." But, besides shutting his eyes complete- 
 ly to the growing influence of the collective authority, he holds 
 that this evolution is a purely blind natural force. Virtually 
 he teaches: "■ Do not try to do anything at all; it is simply 
 folly. In the first place, you cannot do anything; and, next, 
 any effort on your part is unnecessary; if you only let things 
 alone, they will come out all right of themselves sometime 
 in the far distant future.'''' It is no wonder that this indolent 
 ODtimism does not attract the masses. How can Spencer have 
 any sympathy with his fellovvmen? What gospel has lie or 
 have his disciples tor the poor, the suffering and oppressed? 
 The greatest objection, however, to this scientitic fatalism is 
 that it is unsound^ fallacious. 
 
 The fact is, that, though Societj'^ is truly an organism, the 
 evolution of Society does not take place precisely like the 
 growth of plants or animals. The former is the result of ef- 
 forts consciously put forth ; the progress of man requires the 
 cooperation of men. Therefore, while Buckle's view, that the 
 movements of nations depend u[)on their antecedents is true, it 
 is not the whole truth; it must be supplemented by Carlyle's 
 idea, that *■' the history of what man has accomplished is at 
 bottom the history of the great men who have worked here.'* 
 Again it is true that an idea, to be successful, must be in har- 
 fiion V with surrounding conditions, and yet, that is not enough r 
 
THE COMING KEVOLUTION. 263 
 
 it must also be incarnated, so to speak,— made alive — in men 
 and women. There must be a f«\v i)eople. at least, who care 
 a great deal about the idea and who feel a resistless impulse 
 towards its propagation 
 
 Hence we add. that porhaps THE most important part of the 
 evolution is the fact that thei^e are Socialists in the loorld at the 
 present time, that there are resolute men and women, intelli- 
 gent representatives of all classes, who are determined to lead 
 the world into the new channels ! The most precious product 
 of the evolution, therefore, we say. is that practical and ener- 
 getic band, consisting less of dreamers than any number of 
 men hitherto concerned in any great movement, and yet tired 
 with an ideal that makes people forget their national antip- 
 athies — what even Cliristianity has been powerless to (Aol 
 The pledge of success precisely are these men and women 
 who act as if the fortunes of the world depended on their per- 
 sonal endeavors, proudly conscious that the fortunes of the 
 world have depended on the struggles of just such m^nasthey f 
 
 One such man — a man with a faith — is a social power, equal 
 to 999 who have only interests. 
 
 Tlie distinguishing trait of Socialists is that they boldly aim 
 at a revolution and care not a jot about reforms. 
 
 We know that good people now-a-days shudder at the mere 
 whisper of the word "'revolution." It was not alwaj's so. 
 There was a time when the c^^es of patriots sparkled when- 
 ever "Tlie American 1 'evolution " was spoken ; there was a 
 time when '" The English Revolution " sounded tolerably well 
 in polite ears. Now the term '• revolution " seems to suggest 
 nothing but blood and destruction and violence. Yet, it means 
 nothing of the kind. It simply denotes a complete change, the 
 vigorous adaptation of old social elements to new conditions, 
 most orderly, but effecting vast and permanent alterations. 
 That is what all philosophic Socialists mean by a revolution. 
 Their red flag has no relation to blood, or if it has, certainly 
 not to cold clotted blood but the blood that courses warm and 
 throbbing through the veins of every youth and maiden. 
 But '^ reforms " only attack abuses, and in this are just as un- 
 Bcientitic and stupid as bleeding for a fever in olden times 
 
264 THE COMING KE VOLUTION. 
 
 was; both being simply criiJe methods of siippressinsf symp- 
 toms. How can any one '* reform "' away abuses that are in* 
 herent in the system ! Reforms even often do immense miscliief : 
 tliey open the safety-valves and thereby render evils tolerable 
 for the moment, but it is well to bear ia mind that evil 
 **■ evolves " as well as good. 
 
 The Coming Itevolution is the new social force which will so 
 act on the constitution of Society that the old withered husks 
 are cast off. permitting the social butterfly to emerge from its 
 chrysalis state. 
 
 For Spencer is wrong again, when he places his '* advanced 
 social state " in the very distant future, and teaches that the 
 progress of Society is altogether accomplished by slow, very 
 slow, gradual stages. Historic experience does not at all 
 bear him out ; it tells us. on the other hand, that when a so- 
 cial order has once been attained, there is lirst a period, quite 
 a long period, of virtual stagnation, then Society begins to 
 move slowly (the stage on which Spencer has v/holly fixed 
 his attention,) followed by an advance, constantly increasing 
 in velocity — the nineteenth century is a good illustration of 
 this stage, for nre we not moving along in every department 
 with railroad speed? — last of all. the decisive change to a new 
 social system is accomplished almost before the living gener- 
 ation can recover its breath. 
 Will this New Socinl Order be " a hanpy issue?" 
 That is really a consideration of secondary importance and 
 will perhaps be answered differently according to the stand- 
 point one occupies. To our money-bags, prominent politicians, 
 prominent lawj'ers, who now lord it over us; to *•* independ- 
 ent," overbearing, domineering *' rhilistines," buoyed 
 up at the top, it will probably not seem a very •' happy issue,"' 
 looking at it through spectacles, colored bv their class-inter- 
 ests, as they do. For the very gist of the Coming Kevolu- 
 tioi* y\\\ consist in unseating them, in abrogating their vested 
 rights, the divine light which they have been taught that they 
 have to the fruits of the labor of other people. It will abol- 
 ish •' freedom "' as they piactise it. th;it is. the right to <\o what 
 they please and to make others do as they (the "independent ''"> 
 
THT COMING REVOLUTION. 265 
 
 plcKse. But to the great multitude it will be, we should say, 
 a happj'^ issue, for it will put au end to their subjection and put 
 inieracptndence — genuine freedom — in its place. And if we 
 consider the welfare of the social organism there can be nc 
 doubt about the New System being a happy Issue. Instead 
 of the quackery, charlatanism, amateurship which now bears 
 sway in all activities of Society we shall have skill, compe- 
 tence and qualitiedness (if we may coin a word) at the head 
 of affairs, and indeed from top to bottom. Whj'-, the main 
 reasons why the workers will dismiss those who '' rule " us 
 now, is the very fact that they have proved themselves inca- 
 pable of "■ governing,'* of administering affairs. The anarchy 
 which now obtains, the discontent of the masses, our crises, 
 our bankruptcies are all so many proofs of their incapacity, 
 imbecility and ignorance. And most important of all, instead 
 of being a croicd^ not able even to keep our streets clean, we 
 shall have organization ; instead of gregariousness we shall have 
 association; instead of everybody pnrsuingliis individual pet- 
 ty interests absolutely indifferent, and often hostile, to the 
 interests of Society, everybody will instinctiveh^ be con- 
 scious of himself as a being who, of course^ considers the so- 
 cial welfare in his every act. 
 
 We can be sure that the Coming Revolution will not destroy 
 an atom of what is really good now. We can be sure that it 
 does not mean destruction as much as upbuilding. We can be 
 sure that should anybody thereafter seriouslj'- propose to go 
 back to the present Social Order, he will be laughed at as a 
 fool, fit for the lunatic asylum. 
 
 But — " ignore it altogether!'''' 
 
 Those who are now at the head of aflfiiirs affecting — to ignore ! 
 That is a dangerous policy. Those who icill not see become In 
 time those who cannot see. Think of ^- leaders " who wilfully 
 shut their ej^es. and advise '• ignore it altogether! " of*- states* 
 men " with the motto : "' after us the deluge ! " 
 
 So, however, it has always been. '• Force has been the mid- 
 wife at the birth of every Nevv Order." But the responsibili- 
 ty be on our incapable *• leaders! *' 
 
2^0 THE COMIXG DEVOLUTION. 
 
 Mcanvvliile the evoluiioii of society mnrclies forward in 
 spite ot all stuinbliug-blocks ; one moment quietly in the bniiii 
 of the thinker, the next moment nnmereifiilly over c<>ri)ses 
 But it does net want hlootl. On t])e eontraiy, it sends M'arn. 
 ing in advance of every catastrophe. Woe to tliose who do 
 not heed that warning! 
 
 As yet, and first of all, it is a contest of ideas. We aim to 
 put tlie Socialist idea into the minds of the people, knowing 
 that if it be there actions will follow fast enough. However, 
 as was intimated in the Introduction, the writer of this does not 
 expect that the majority will in that way be excited to action. 
 
 The majorit}' are always ignorant, always indolent ; .you can- 
 not expect them to be anything e'se with their present so- 
 cial surrouiidings. They never have brought about, conscious- 
 ly and deliberately, any great social change. Thay always 
 have peiinitted an eneigetic minority to accomplish that for 
 them, and then — they always have sanctioned the accomplish- 
 ed fact. 
 
 That our people is no exception was proven by the aboli- 
 tion of slavery. That was accomplished by the emancipation 
 proclamation of Lincoln who was tagged on to issue it bv an 
 energetic minority; when it was accomplished, the people 
 sanctioned it by amending their constitution ; though even 
 now. as a matter of course, '•prominent" law3^ers can be 
 found who verily believe, that said proclamation was not worth 
 the paper it is written on. 
 
 This, then, is our objective point : a respectable minority ,' re- 
 spectable as to numbers; resoectable as representing the most 
 advanced intelligence; respectable as containing sincere 
 and energetic representatives from all classes: the minority 
 to reach which these pages are written. Give Socialists such 
 a minority — give them only 10.000 such men in, say, twenty 
 3'ears from now, in a ])opulation of 75 millions, and our coun- 
 try and its future is theirs! 
 
 Socialists are the only social philosophers who can be called 
 pnrpnsrfal^ the only ones in the whole wide world who can 
 dispense with connnonplaces and slippery words and i)brases 
 and who i)resent clear cut, didinite solutions. It is, of course- 
 
THE COMING REVOLUTION. 267 
 
 to the discontented that they address themselves ; tliey hav<| 
 nothing to say to such as think tliat tlie world is good ouongh 
 as it is. Neither have they any bnsiness with tliat verj' huge 
 class of poor men, clerks especially, who toil on from dny to 
 day, in tiie hope of being some da}', by some lucky aecident, 
 rich themselves, so that they in their turn can lord it over oth- 
 ers. It is that class particularly iliat till the ranks of our 
 Ptate-niiiitia and who with alaci ity obe.}^ the command to shoot 
 down such of their fellows as have been goaded on to rebel- 
 lion. It is a most contemptible class of men ; the motive that 
 leads them is a contemptible one. and yet it is such men who 
 are patted on the back by " our best i)eopIe " and called •• am- 
 bitions." 
 
 It is, of course, to the discontented wage-workers that So- 
 cialists can appeal witli the greatest chance of success. To 
 them they can say : 
 
 '"•Look the future confidently in the face. T!ie golden age 
 of which poets have sung has proved a cruel ilkision — cruel, 
 for as long as it lasted, it served as the greatest stumbling- 
 block to your improvement. In exchange for that wili-o-the- 
 wisp we give you anothei', a real Golden Age, at whose thresli- 
 old you stand. If you do not enter into it. your children may.*' 
 It is to the wage-class that the rankest injustice is being done. 
 To lay bare that injustice is. first of all. the mission of So- 
 cialism, :ind as Carlyle says: '•Hunger, nakedness, death 
 even, may be borne sometimes with cheerfulness, but injustice 
 is insupportable to all men." 
 
 To the thoughtful among our small middle-men it ought to 
 be easy enough to prove; the Socialist State their sole refuge 
 from the cares and troubles that now beset them. 
 
 It will not take many years, before the eyes of farmers will 
 be opened to the fact tliat the vast majority of them must neces- 
 sarily become tenant-farmers and tlieir farms gobbled up by 
 the rich under a system of unrestricted competition. Then we 
 undoubtedly can convince some, that Socialism is the only 
 system that can secure a civilized life to their descendants. 
 
 And even to many in the professions we can with propriety 
 appeal. Indeed, as we already have said, many, if not mosi 
 
208 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 
 
 of onr literary men, lawyers, pl)5^sicians, journalists, and last, 
 tliougli not least, teachers are anioiig- the dis-inheritetl. Only 
 tlioseatthetop — most of whom are in one way or another the 
 retainers of our money-bags — have any motive to side with the 
 Established Order. Of course, all aspiring young professional 
 ruen start out with great expectations; but what a grievous 
 disappointment does life prove to the great m.ijority of them I 
 Before they reach middle age they Avill have given up all their 
 ^rand plans, and they will consider it the summit of success, 
 if they can secure a decent livelihood. Most of them will fail 
 lamentably even in that. To my personal knowledge hun- 
 dreds of talented persons of that class now live a most pre- 
 carious existence, and are glad to sleep at night on the lounge 
 in the office of some more successful brother, and do not know 
 for certain whether they will have a meal the next day. Such 
 a man's refinement has become his curse. 
 
 To such men the Coming Revolution should be just as wel- 
 come as to any mechanic or common laborer. How their tal- 
 ents would unfold themselves and their energies be roused un- 
 der that inspiring enrnlation which the New Order will inau- 
 , gurate! Talent, genius and intellect will in our Common- 
 wealth have their due influence, what they never had before. 
 
 Neither ought it to be very difflcnltto convince such women 
 who take any interest in public affairs and labor tor the ele- 
 vation of their s^^x that no lasting benefit will be conferred 
 cither on Society or their sisters by making women into sec- 
 ond-rate men, and very, very little benefit b}' their obtaininoj 
 the suilVage in tlie present state of things ; while it is very mucli 
 to be apprehended that when political "riglits'' are minced 
 twice as much again as they already are, they will seem and 
 in fact become absolutely worthless. Socialism is evidently 
 far iiiore capable of elevating the female sex both by ennobling 
 the men and by enabling women themselves to assert their 
 uignky. 
 
 Ai:d everywhere in all conditions of life there are thought- 
 lal. gti.eions yodths who cannot keep wondering at the man- 
 ife--ti> Uhjust arrangements of this world. Youths who can- 
 not help asking why so many whose work is only nominal 
 
THE COMIXG REVOLUTION. 2G9 
 
 enonld live In splendor, while those whose d.iily toilprocliiees 
 all that makes existence enjoyable and even possible have such 
 a hai'd struggle for life. Youths, who then dream of impos- 
 sible '-remedies" and, likeThoir.as More in his "Utopia.*" con- 
 struct castles in the air. Youths who by and by, when they 
 have been chilled by contact with the cold realities of life un- 
 der this Established Order, will come to look back on these 
 dreams as mere foolishness! 
 
 Ah. youths ! "when those phantoms fade, some portions of 
 your better nature will die within you. too I " 
 
 Might we not expect that the eyes of such youths, — and 
 even of mature men who have had such dreams and notfor^ 
 gotten them — to kindle with enthusiasm, and their hearts to 
 beat quicker upon learning that many of tlieir fellows are bent 
 with all their energies on making glorious realities out of those 
 dreams? As Novalis says : " My belief has gained inlinitely 
 to me from the moment any other human being has l)egun to 
 believe the same." Why then might we not expect many of 
 such men to throw themselves into this movement of ours, as 
 soon as they find out v:hat it reaUy means? 
 
 It is a slander to say that the American people cannot be 
 excited by an ideal, that they only care for the '•Almighty 
 "Dollar." Our war of the Ilevolution was fought for a point 
 of honor. The Kebellion was fought for ideas. But small 
 ends do not rouse anybody's enthusiasm. Civil service •• re- 
 forms" and other ••Utopias" — and small Utopias at that — are 
 not likely to make one's blood throb the quicker, 'i'o cut off 
 each head of an ever-growing hydra as it appears is a tire- 
 some process, and will seem an idle, wasteful proceeding to 
 any practical mind. But to help evolve a New Social Order 
 which is •• struggUng — convulsively, desperatelj'- struggling— 
 to be born " is an Ciid, grand enough to fill the noblest soul with 
 the most ardent zeal ! 
 
 And because it is vv«'li known what repelling effects mere 
 words may have on the minds of men, and because •' Social- 
 ism" once had such an effect on the writer himself, we add : 
 Let not the consideration frighten j^ou, that it is an "ism I" 
 Why, even Christianity was for four hundred years an "ism." 
 
270 THE CO.AIIXG REVOLUTION. 
 
 Every itloal. that is. every "' soul of the future "' is an '' ism *' 
 as lon;^ MS it is waitiii^:^ lor its boily. When Soeialisni becomes 
 embodied, it leaves its •• ism '' beliind and is realized as the New 
 Social Order, — Social Cooperation. 
 
 \t is for various reasous just such young men as those of whom 
 we have spoken, of all classes, that we should try to enroll as 
 members of our effective muiority and for which I have written 
 this book. Elderly people have already made up their minds — 
 iudeed the man who has reached forty and has not made up his 
 mind may pretty safely be put down as a poor specimen of 
 a man. And then there is a weightier reason. Though there 
 is no man living wise enough to say when the Coming Kevo- 
 lution will occur, we can say that there is little probability 
 that it will occur this centur3^ Now. j'ou cannot ask an elder- 
 ly man to prepare for something which he probably will 
 not live to witness. You. on the other hand, can with the 
 greatest show of success appeal to the ardor and hope and 
 sympathy of youth or young men of, sa}^, 30 years to prepare 
 for fin event in which they may be principal actors when they 
 reach ripe manhood. And that is just what that effective minor- 
 ity principally will have to do — prepare^ prepare themselves and 
 their peoph- for the Great Change. Not, as we already said in 
 the Introduction, to ma/t;e any revolution, but to make them- 
 selves, and the Nation as much as possible, ready for the Com- 
 ing lleV' olution, to meet it when it comes, peaceably or '' cUid in 
 iron sandals" and to carr}'' it out. To accomplish this, the 
 llrst thing needed is organization, next, organization, and. last- 
 ly', organization, in order that they may become perfectly ac- 
 quainted with each other, come to have confidence in each 
 otluM*, 'ind study tojjether the great philosophy and the means 
 of realizing it. That minority ought, indeed, to come to a 
 unanimous agreement as to every principal step that must be 
 taken to make the Cooperative Commonwealth a success from 
 the very start and until it is in full working order. 
 
 And they should also, as we said, as much as possible pre- 
 ])are their countrymen. They should continually keep — not 
 tlRMuselves, mark you I — but their cause before the people. 
 They can do this very effectually in two ways: each one in 
 
THE COMING EEVOLITTION. 271 
 
 his own neigliborhood, iii his immediate circle of personal 
 frieiius and acquaintances, by direct appeals to their under- 
 standing, sympathies and interests, and all, in mutual accord, 
 through the general newspapers of the country. It is foli}'- 
 to waste money and energy in starting special journals for the 
 propagation of new ideas — that is my private opinion. 1 have 
 always found that there are in every city of any consequence 
 sonif^ new£pai>ers of established eir-julation, ready enough to 
 publish notices andarti<des, if only they are temperately, and 
 especially icftiZ written— just such comments and appeals as 
 we may expect from the class of persons we have in mind — 
 force and fire and no fioth. But the important thing, always 
 to be heeded, about this latter form of agitation, is that it bs 
 carried on systematically. 
 
 This will be work enough for anybody, however zealous : be- 
 side this that minority can do nothing better than — wait with 
 l)atieiice. 
 
 Wait for what? 
 
 For the natural culmination of the present system, (as to 
 which we refer to our third chapter) and for the outburst of 
 Passion. 
 
 Passion? — Yes. We are not indebted to Reason for the land- 
 marks of human progress : not for the introduction of Chris- 
 tianit}'. not for the institution of the monastic order-, not 
 for the Crusades, not for the Reformation, not for the Ameri- 
 can Revolution, !iot for tlio abolition of slavery. Man is only 
 Vresistible when he acts from passion. We are tirst to be 
 philosophers in order to prepare for and carry out the Coming 
 Pevolution, but no walls are now-a-days tlirovvn down by blasts 
 of trumpets. The masses of men are never moved except by 
 passions, feelings, interest. 
 
 Xow it is possible that these passions of our people, or of 
 the British people, will be roused by what may transpire on 
 the continent of Europe. For we liave no doubt that tbe first 
 serious attempt to realize Socialism will be made there. There 
 is Germany, where our ideas have reached their highest devel- 
 opment both in depth and in breadth, and whose people seepi 
 
272 THE COMING REVOLUTION. 
 
 ill the last i^eneration to have modified their former pure re- 
 llectivc ness. Formerly tiiey paused to reflect so much, tli;it 
 they were slow in action; now they simply make sure before- 
 hand of every detail which might make them hesitate in ac- 
 tion. 
 
 Then there is France, there is Paris. Not the frivolous do- 
 based Paris of the sight-seer, but earnest Paris, for a century 
 the heart of the world ; whose victories have been the victories 
 ot mankind, her defeats its defeats. 
 
 We know what an excitement the French Revolution of a 
 hundred years ago caused in the minds of the people of 
 'England, and notably am )ng her working men, then in their 
 swaddling clothes. Certainly, then, in this age tlie establish- 
 mf^nt of Socialism either in Germany or France would exer- 
 cise a tremendous influence both here and in Great Britain. 
 
 If we, the American Nation, are anything, we are practical. 
 If we are not apt to originate any new political and social ideas, 
 we liave a wonderful aptitude for copying the good points of 
 successful!}'' working models. We, therefore, think, that it 
 might not take very many years — in fact no longer time than 
 would be needful to rub our eyes in order to find out whether 
 we were really awake — before we should set to work to copy 
 that Socialist State. 
 
 But the diHicultles in the way of snccess on the continent 
 are so great — the consideration, that even a completely suc- 
 cessful revolution in any one of these countries may. on ac- 
 count of their geographical position, not prove sullicient to 
 insure the stability of the New Social Order, — these difli- 
 eulties form such a threatening shadow on the horizon, that 
 we cannot but tremble for a possible successful counter-revo- 
 lution. 
 
 And then there are really many reasons why either Great Brit- 
 ain or our own country — the universal colon;/ — may be consid- 
 ei-ed tlie i)lace wliore the New Commonwealth will be first suc- 
 cessfully established. 
 
 The United States possesses the immense advantage that it 
 can salely make the first experiment, without danger of any 
 foreign interference. We possess the advantage of being an 
 
THE COMING REVOLUTION. 2T3 
 
 eminently practical as well as a thoroughgoincr people, when 
 we are roused. Wq have withhi lis* the rellectiveaess of tlie 
 German as well as the inoinfiitnin of the Anglo-Saxon, who. if 
 he MJ«7Zs to jump across a brook, does not hesitate, but runs 
 and clears it with a bound. We furthermore possess for an 
 indetinite period — to be determined by the feai'S and blind 
 anger of our masters — the privilege to agitate without restraint 
 by pen and tongue and thus educate and organize the effect- 
 ive minority. 
 
 Great Britain has the same advantages, and in addition the 
 glorious precedent: Cromwell's revolution, '•'the English 
 Commonwealth," the first popular revolt against divine i-ights^ 
 '•vested" rights. In both countries the culmination of the 
 economic evolution is nearer than elsewhere, that is, division 
 of labor and concentration of wealtii are carried further than ' 
 elsewhere, a fact of tremendous importance, and another fact, 
 only second in importance, i:i both countries, is the organiza- 
 tion of their wori^ers, the splendid Trades-Unions of England 
 and our own Knights of Labor. 
 
 " Socialism is not suited to the genius of our people" we 
 have heard some say, as if we had patented a new order of life. 
 Tiiese Trade-unions, and Trades-assemblies, and Grangers and 
 Knights of Labor precisely prove that Socialism is suited to 
 the genius of our and the British people. The central spirit 
 that rules these unions is that of Socialism, to wit, that the 
 interests of all workers are the same, that each must postpone 
 his own advantage to the common good and each yield his in- 
 dividual prejudice and crochet to the collective judgment. 
 
 Those of the working-classes who become enrolled in our 
 effective minority can d) 'io better work than strengthen these 
 unions in every possible way. Through them their fellow- 
 wcrkers are sure of getting 3 >^Ialist hearts — tlie Socialist heads 
 will come in due time. And be;U' in mind, that it is these or- 
 ganized labor-battalions that '^re to form the lever by means of 
 wiiich the new ideas are to move Society. 
 
 •lust on account of these organizations, and because they will 
 b<^come '.nvaluable skeletons on the establishment of the New 
 Order (as we have emphasized in another place,) we thmk that 
 
274 th:e coming revolution. 
 
 the United States, but particularly Great Brittain, are nearer 
 the realization of Socialism than generally supposed. 
 
 Most Americans remember the rising of the workingnaen in 
 July 1877. That rising was to all Socialists, also to those who 
 held aloof from it, a most promising sign. 'J'he tirst revolt 
 of American white slaves against their task-masters! 
 
 That it was accompanied by excesses by the most neglected 
 si ratum of Society was unfortunate but unavoidable. I'liis 
 stratum is just the worst heritage which capitalism leaves on 
 our hand. 
 
 In a very short time we shall have another series of years 
 of hard time. Remember what we said about '* Crises " in the 
 second chapter. We expect another revolt then, more serious 
 than the tirst. That most likely will also be suppressed with 
 comparative ease. 
 
 A few more years elapse. Another " crisis,'' yet more se- 
 vere, shows its hideous head. The screws of distress are turned 
 yet more on the wage-workers. Another most serious revolt. 
 Possibly powder and shot will suppress that, too. 
 
 But in the tulness of time we shall have a labor revolt that 
 will not be put down. Then is the time for the energetic So- 
 cialist minority to exert its influence. There is nothing that 
 the people in such a crisis hail more than leaders^ nothing they 
 hungei" and thirst more after than clear-cut, definite solutions. 
 
 All the horrors of the French llevolution and the sad fact 
 that Napoleon the First became a necessity were due to the 
 circumstance, that the revolution had no leaders. We do not 
 mean to say. that that revolution was a failure, for it did ac- 
 complish every one of its objects: the abolition of privi- 
 leges, the dispossession of the land-owners and free competi- 
 tion, but the price paid was exorbitant. 
 
 In our civil war, on the other hand, it was the abolitionists 
 that successfully assumed the leadership, and probably exer- 
 ted all the influence to whicn they were entitled. 
 
 That the Socialist minority must do wlien the crisis comes, 
 and make out of a revolt — another revolution. 
 
 Be confident that the people will follow. In such times men 
 become awake, shake off nightmares ; the experience of years 
 
THE COMING REVOLUTION. 275 
 
 is crowded into hours. Novelties which at first sight inspire 
 dread become in a few daj's familiar, then endurable, then 
 attractive. 
 
 That is one way in which Socialism may be realized. 
 
 Here our mind Is involuntarily directed to a remarkable 
 book: Jlie Coming Bace, said to be by Bulwer. It repres<vnt3 
 a race, living underground in a great number of small com- 
 munities, as having attained to a perfect social state. It may b^ 
 considered an ingenious satire on a Socialist Commonwealth 
 but no matter, it is highly interesting. That which at thife 
 point led our thoughts upon it is a wonderful natural force 
 which those people are said to have discovered, which they 
 call VrU. It can be stored in a small wand, which rests in the 
 hollow of the palm and, when skillfully wielded, can rend 
 rocks, remove any natural obstacles, scatter the strongest 
 fortress and make the weak a perfect match for any combin- 
 ation of number, skill and discipline. No wonder that these 
 people attribute their equality, their freedom, felicity and ad- 
 vancement to this discovery. 
 
 What if this •• Vril " is but a poetic anticipation of the civ- 
 ilizing power of that real, energetic substance which we call — 
 dynamite I 
 
 Again, we all have heard of the "anti-monopoly" move- 
 ment. That is a war, political and otherwise, of one class of 
 fleecers against another class of fleecers ; of industrial and 
 mercantilecannibalsiigainst moneyed and corporate cannibals. 
 There is no love lost between the two classes just as little as 
 between two veritable cannibals. No one can tell to what ex- 
 tremities the war between them may not go. But the follow- 
 ing correspondence to the New York Sun from Titusville Pa., 
 of Nov. 4th 1S78, may give us an idea of possible coming 
 events: 
 
 " The flict is, the State of Pennsylvania has had a narrow 
 escape from an internal civil war. Had certain men given the 
 word, there would have been an outbreak that contemplated 
 the seizure of the railroads and running them, the capture and 
 control of the United Pipe Lines property, and in all 
 probability the burning of all the property of the Stand- 
 
276 * THE COMING REVOLUTION. 
 
 ard Oil Company in the region. The men who would have 
 done this, and luay do it yet, are not laborers or tramps.''^ 
 
 The Coming Revolution may arise out of a simihir struggle 
 between our fleecing classes. Revolutions, liowever, liave no 
 precedents. The wisest of us may err as much as Ulrich Von 
 Ilutten did in the days preceding the Reformation. Ulrich 
 was far in advance of Luther wlien the latter took hold of his 
 mission. Then he wrote in a letter, still extant, to the effect 
 that he heard that a monk had become rebellious. '' It de- 
 lights me*' he vvrote in substance, ''to hear of a rebellion in 
 the bosom of II0I3' Mother Church. How I wish the two par- 
 ties may tear eacli other to pieces! " Yet it was just Lnther 
 and not the clear-sighted nobleman whom tlie logic of events 
 selected as its orgtm. 
 
 Just as impossible it is to say, when we may expect the Com- 
 ing IJevolution. But it is worth reflecting on, that a prudent 
 man in 1S53 would hardly have taken upon himself to foretell 
 the abolition of slavery in 18G.'3. 
 
 But the Great Change is coming. 
 
 In the words of Carlyle: 
 
 '' Will not one French Revolution snfflce, or must there be 
 two? There will be two if needed ; there will be twenty if 
 needed ; there will be just as many as needed.''^ 
 
 When the Cooperative Commonwealth is achieved, there 
 will be no room for any more revolutions. For revolutions 
 are caused by the clashings of class-inteiests, and all class- 
 distinctions are forever abolished themoment the lowest class 
 is fully incorporated into Society. 
 
 But there will be plenty of room for progress, for further 
 evolution. Even our Commonwealth, though it may take a 
 long period to develop it. is but a step of the evolution. One 
 Connnonwealtli after anothor may decay and disappear, but 
 they will all contribute to the upbuilding of the Onjanism of 
 Humanity. 
 
 With Organized TTumanity will be evolved the Coming Re- 
 ligion, though we already noticed it in the preceding chapter, 
 because people persist in mixing uj) morals and religion. But 
 
THE COMING REVOLUTION. 277 
 
 morals really relates to the social orgamsm: it makes the good 
 citizen. Religion relates to niiuiauity and makm the saint. 
 The Coming rJeligioii will make us feel that we are here for 
 the salve of Humanity, with wliose fate it may be found that 
 we are personally far more concerned than is now supposed ; 
 it will make holiness consist in identifying ourselves with Hu- 
 manity — the redeemed f orrti of man — as the lover merges him- 
 self in the beloved. Individualism : the deception that we 
 have been born into this world each for the sake of himself * 
 or family, friend or kindred, Selfness^ will be acknowledged to 
 be the satanic element of our nature. 
 
 We therefore more than doubt, we deny. Ward's proposition . 
 that individual happiness is the end of human life. If it is, 
 the existences that were made miserable in order that man- 
 kind might be trained up to Social-Cooperation were failures; 
 they are decidedly not fiiilures, if. as we hold, the end of 
 the individual existence is to further the evolution of Human- 
 ity, in whose fate it may be found, as we repeat, that we have 
 a greater stake than is supposed. But happiness is iifact; a? 
 an incident ot life and not an object of pursuit, it is a bless- 
 ed fact. It is to man what the odor is to the rose. 
 
 That the Xew Commonwealth will very much diffuse and 
 increase individual happiness there can be no doubt. It will • 
 make possible tlie harmonious exercise and development of 
 all human faculties in everybody— that itself is happiness. 
 It will, by banishing care and giving leisure, enable everyone 
 to become familiar with all that is known about the universe 
 and to explore its perpetual wonders and pore over its num- 
 berless riddles for himself — and that is more than happiness, 
 it is rapture. Finally, it will be the grandest vehicle for serv- 
 ing Humanity and thereby generate the purest happiness, pe»- 
 fect blessedness. 
 
 But blessedness it is even now our privilege to obtain. We 
 have the choice to live as Individualists and on our deathbed 
 look back in despair on a dreary, hateful life of play-acting, • 
 or as Socialists fill oiu* existences with those serious moods 
 that make the grand tone of life, and in the hour of death 
 stand on the mountain-top, as it were, and see with entranced 
 
278 THE COMING REVOLUTION". 
 
 eyes the ra3'S of the Sun that soon will illumine the dark valleys 
 below. I, for my part, deem it worth ten crucifixions to win 
 lor my memory a fraction of the adoiing love which millioua 
 oi the uoblest men aud women have felt for a Jesus. 
 
 THB BMP. 
 
LEE AND SHEPARD'S HANDBOOKS. 
 
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 This little book is being rapidly introduced into schools as a text-book. 
 
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 WHIRLWINDS, CYCLONES, AND TORNADOES. By 
 
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 The cyclones of our trreat West, the whirlwinds of the desert, every 
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 THE STARS AND THE EARTH; or, Thoughts upon 
 
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 Tt contains minute directions for the " mantel-piece garden," the 
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 Sold by all booksellern, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price* 
 
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LEE AiND SHEPARD'S HANDBOOKS. 
 
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 Short-hand by the " Allen Method." A .*elf-iiiKiructor, 
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 Methods in the Bwain Free School, New Bedford. 50 cents 
 
 The work Is designed for the use of teachers and normal-school classes 
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 DAILY FOOD FOR THE MIND. 
 
 PRONOUNCING HANDBOOK of 3,000 words often mispro. 
 
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 ABOUT 40,000 SYNONYMOUS WORDS. 
 
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 dix showing the correct use of prepositions, also a collection of 
 foreign i)hrases. By LooMis .T Campbell Cloth. 50 cents 
 •' Cie-arly piinted, well arranged, ada])ted to help any one who writes 
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 HANDBOOK OF CONVERSATION. Its Faults and its 
 Graces, Compiled by Andrew 1'. I'eabouy, D.I)., l.L.D. 
 Comprising' 1. Dr. Peabody's Lecture. '2. Mr. Trench's Lecture. 
 
 3. Mr. Perry Gwynn's "A Word to the Wise, or, Hints on the 
 Current Improprieties of P]xpression m Writing and Speaking." 
 
 4. Mistakes and Improprieties in Speaking and Writing Corrected. 
 Cloth. 50 cents 
 
 " It is worth owning, and ought to be studied by many who heedlessly 
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 HINTS AND HELPS for those who Write, Print, or 
 
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 " The information is Imparted in a very lively and remembering way.'* 
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 Sold by all booknellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. 
 
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LEE AND SHEPARD'S HANDBOOKS. 
 
 A PRACTICAL PROOF-READER'S ADVICE. 
 
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 HANDBOOK OF LIGHT GYMNASTICS. By Lrcr B, 
 Hunt, Instructor in Gymnastics at Smith (Female) College, 
 Northampton, Mass. 50 cents. 
 
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 LOOK OUT FOR SQUALLS. 
 
 PRACTICAL BOAT-SAILING. By Douglas Frazar. Clas- 
 sic size. i?1.00. With numerous diagrams and illustrations. 
 
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 "A HELPFUL LITTLE BOOK." — Sprinaf eld Bpptiblirav. 
 
 HANDBOOK OF WOOD-ENGRAVING. With Practical 
 Instructions in the Art for Per.sous wishing to learn without an 
 Instructor. By William A. Emerson, Wood-Engraver. Xew 
 Edition. Illustrated. i?1.00. 
 
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 "A LITERARY TIDBIT." 
 
 SHORT STUDIES OF AMERICAN AUTHORS. By 
 Thomas Wentworth IIigginson. 50 cents. 
 
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 "NO LITTLE BOOK IS CAPABLE OF DOING BETTER SERVICE." 
 
 HANDBOOK OF ELOCUTION SIMPLIFIED. By Wal, 
 TER K. FoBEs, with an Introduction by George M. Baker. 
 Cloth. .50 cents. 
 " This valuable little book occupies a place heretofore left vacant, ae a 
 
 digest of elocution that is both practical and methodical, and low iu 
 
 price." — NtLO- York Trihitne. 
 
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LEE AND SHEPARD'S HAiNDBOOKS. 
 
 ARE YOU INTERESTED IN BUGS? 
 INSECTS ; How to Catch and how to Prepare them for 
 
 the Cabinet. Compri.sins^ ;i Mamiiil of liisliuction tor tb» 
 Field Nulurali.st. By W'altek P. Manton. Illustrated. Clotb, 
 50 cents. 
 "Xothiug essential is omilted : every boy who has any taste for natu- 
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 Clubs" which have sprung up amid the youth of the country, should 
 add it to their libraries." — Chicago Adcauce. 
 
 "OF INESTIMABLE VALUE TO YOUNG BOTANISTS." 
 
 Rural New - Yorker. 
 
 FIELD BOTANY. A Handbook for the Collector. Containing [n- 
 structions for (iathering and Preservina; Plants, and the Formation 
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 phy, Plant i'rinting, and the Skeletonizing of Leaves. By Wal- 
 ter P. Manton. illustrated. .50 cents. 
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 PHANT 
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 Uniform with the author's "Handbooks of Natural History," and 
 equally valuable. 
 
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 BROKEN ENGLISH. A Frenchman's Struggles with the Engliflh 
 Language. By Professor E. C. Dubois, author of " The French 
 Teacher." Cloth, 50 cents; cheap edition, pa[)er, ;?0 cents. 
 The I'rofessor's famous lecture, delivered all over the country. Amus- 
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 WHAT IS TO BE DONE. A Handbook for the Nursery, with 
 
 useful Hints for Chiidrt-n and Adults. By Uobekt B. DiXON, 
 
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 Dr. Dixon has produced a work that will be gladly welcomed by 
 
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 VOYAGE OF THE PAPER CANOE. A Geographical Jour- 
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 AMERICA, Over the Pampas and the Andes. By 
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 During two years he visited mountains, forests, and people that few, 
 
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 — lliu lieistei- £^.)piess. 
 
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THE DOUGLAS NOVELS. 
 
 By Miss Amanda M. Douglas. 
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 A WOMAN'S INHERITANCE. 
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 OUT OF THE WRECK; or, was it a Victory? 
 
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 FLOYD GRANDON'S HONOR. 
 
 " Fasclhating throughout, and worthy of the reputatiou of the author." 
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 WHOM KATHIE MARRIED. 
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 THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE. 
 
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 CLA.UDIA. 
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 SEVEN DAUGHTERS, 
 rhe charm of the story is the perfectly natural and home-likfr ai» «>.)^CJI| 
 pervades It. 
 
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 HouBehold favorites, in new and attractive styles of cloth, full gilt, and 
 the uniiiue and beautiful Golden Floral, Fuinged, of which we are 
 the pioneere, and for which we claim trade-mark and patent. 
 
 Cloth, full gilt, $].60. Golden Floral, Fringed, §1.75. 
 
 IT WAS THE CALM AND SILENT 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 By ALFRED DOMETT. 
 
 MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE. 
 By ray palmer. 
 
 NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE. 
 
 By SARAH FLOWER ADAMS. 
 
 OH, WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF 
 MORTAL BE PROUD? 
 
 By WILLIAM KNOX. 
 
 RING OUT, WILD BELLS 1 
 
 By ALFhED TENNYSON. 
 
 H^ GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. 
 
 P- ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 
 
 Home, sweet home. 
 
 BY JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. 
 
 ROCK OF AGES. 
 
 By AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY. 
 
 THAT GLORIOUS SONG OF OLD. 
 
 By EDMUND HAMILTON SEARS. 
 
 THE BREAKING WAVES DASHED 
 
 HIGH. 
 
 By FELICIA HEMAN8. 
 
 THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD. 
 
 THE TWENTY-THIRO PSAlM IN SONG AND SONNET, 
 By WILLIAM C. RICHARDS. 
 
 ABIDE WITH ME. 
 
 By HENRY FRANCIS LYTE. 
 
 COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD. 
 
 By ALFRED TENNYSON. 
 
 CURFEW MUST NOT RING 
 TO-NIGHT. 
 
 By ROSA HARTWICK THORPE. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN ANTHEM. 
 THE BEATITUDES. 
 
 IN RHYTHMIC ECHOES. 
 By WILLIAM C. RICHARDS (iN PREPARATION). 
 
 The illustrations in all the volumes of this series designed and engraved 
 expressly for them. Xo old cuts or designs used. 
 
 The covers are rich and elegant. ''J'he fringe, tassel, and cord of fine 
 silk. The protectors neat and safe. There are many cheap imitations 
 of our original idea. E.xamine well. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers., and sent h>f mail, postpaid, on ?-eceipt of price. 
 
 LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 
 
J. T. TROWBRIDGE'S NOVELS. 
 
 NEW UNIFORM EDITION. 
 FARNELL'S FOLLY. 
 
 " As a Novel of Amorican Society, this book lias never been surpassed. 
 Hearty in style and wholesome in tone. Its pathos often melting, to 
 tears, its humor always exciting merriment." 
 
 CUDJO'S CAVE. 
 
 Like "Uncle Tom's Cabin," this thrilling story was a stimulating 
 power in the civil war, and had an immen.'^e sale. Secretary Chase, of 
 President Lincoln's cabinet, said of it, "1 could not help reading it ; it 
 interested and impressed me prot'ouiidly. ' 
 
 THE THREE SCOUTS. 
 
 Another popular book of the same stamp, of which " The Boston Tran- 
 script" said, "It promises to have a larger sale than ' Cudjo's Cave.' 
 It is impossible to open the volume at any page without being struck by 
 the qmck movement and pervading anecdote of the story." 
 
 THE DRUMMER BOY. 
 
 A Story of Burnside's Expedition. Illustrated bj- F. O. C. Darley. 
 
 " The most popular book of the season. It will sell without pushing." 
 — Zion's Herald. 
 
 MARTIN MERRIVALE: His X Mark. 
 
 " Strong in humor, pathos, and unabated interest. In none of the books 
 Issued from the American press can there be found a purer or more deli- 
 cate sentiment, a more genuine good taste, or a nicer aijpreciation and 
 brighter delineation of characier." — EngiiHli Joarnul. 
 
 NEIGHBOR JACKWOOD. 
 
 A story of New-England life in the slave-tracking days. Dramatized 
 for the Boston Museum, it had a long run to crowded houses. The story 
 is oue of Trowbridge's very best. 
 
 COUPON BONDS, and other Stories. 
 
 The leading story is undoubtedly the most popular of Trowbridge's 
 short stories. The others aie varied in character, but are either intensely 
 interesting or " highly amusing." 
 
 NEIGHBORS' 'WIVES. 
 
 An ingenious and well-told story. Two neighbors' wives are tempted 
 beyond their strength lo resist, and steal ?ach from the other. One is 
 discovered in the act, under ludicrous and humiliating circumstances, 
 but 's generously pardoned, with a premise of secrecy. Of course she 
 L«<t'<i"s her secret, and of course perplexities come. It is a capital story, 
 
 12mo. Cloth. Price per volume, §:l. 50. 
 
 Sold by all booksellers and neicsdealers, and sent by mail, postpaUt, 
 on receipt of piice. 
 
HARRY W. FRENCH'S BOOKS. 
 
 THE ONLY ONE. A Novel. 16mo. Cloth. .$1.00. 
 
 '•The Only One" is a powerful story, dealing with the lights and 
 ehadowK of life in America, Nai)les, and Persia. Written in a dashing 
 style, sometimes deeply liaaic, at others humorous in the extreme, it 
 presents pictures of human life that attract and interest by their natural- 
 ness and vividness. 
 
 CASTLE FOAM; or. The Pauper Prince, A story of real 
 life, true love, and intrigue in the brilliant capital of Prussia. 
 12mo. $1.50. 
 "A novel of remarkable power, and strangely unlike any yet written 
 
 by an American. 'J'here is something in the beauty and intensity of 
 
 expression that reminds one of Bulwer in his best days." — Cinciuuati 
 
 OoiiDucfclaL 
 
 NUNA, THE BRAMIN GIRL. Ifimo. Cloth, fl.25. 
 
 •' This book is beautifully written, and abounds in novel and dramatic 
 incidents." — Si. LouIh Globe Democrat. 
 
 EGO, The Life Strug'gles of Lawrence Edwards. i6mo. 
 
 Cloth. 81.00. 
 "Both an interesting and an exciting work, written with freedom, 
 effectiveness, and power." — Pliikuhlpliui Item. 
 
 GEMS OP GENIUS. 4to. Illuminated covers. Gilt. $2.00. 
 
 "Fifty full-page illustrations, selected from the art-works of as many 
 foreign painters, with text descri;)tive of each, from the pen of one of 
 our native Ruskins." — New ■ York. Mail. 
 
 ART AND ARTISTS. A history of the birth of art in America, 
 
 with biographical studies of many prominent American artists, and 
 
 nearly one hundred illus. from their studios, (,'loth. Gilt. $3.00. 
 
 "A work that will grow in value every year, showing the most patient 
 
 research and elaboration, skilfully executed, and admirably worked up. 
 
 An honor to the author, an honor to the publishers, an honor to the 
 
 country." — Xew - York Ecenlng Po>!t. 
 
 OUR BOYS IN INDIA. The wanderings of two young Americans 
 
 in Hindustan, with their exciting adventures on the sacred rivers 
 
 and wild mountains. With 14o illustrations. Koyal octavo, 7 x 9| 
 
 inches. Bound in emblematical covers of Oriental design, $1.75. 
 
 Cloth, black and gold, $2.')0. 
 
 A new edition of the most i)opu!ar of books of travel for young folks, 
 
 issued last season. While it has all the exciting interest of a romance, 
 
 it is remarkably vivid in its pictures of manners and customs in the land 
 
 of the Hindu. The illustratioiis are many and excellent. 
 
 OU'R BOYS IN CHINA. The adventures of two young .Vmeri- 
 cans, wrecked in the China Sea on their return from India, with 
 their strange wanderings through the Chinese Empire. 1S8 Illus- 
 trations. Boards, ornamental covers in colors and gold, $1.75. 
 Cloth, $-2.50. 
 After successfully starting the young heroes of his previous book, 
 "Our Boys in India," on their homeward trij), the i)opular lecturer, 
 extensive traveller, and remarkable story-teller, has them wrecked in the 
 China Sea, saved, aid transported across China; givlny him an opportu- 
 nity to spread for young folks an appetizing feast of good things. 
 
 Sold by all book: "T trs, aixf sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt o/ price, 
 
 LEE &, SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 
 
^^XOr^ MUMJr.'i 
 
 ^ 14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 REC'D Ln 
 
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