BY CAMILLE FLAMMARION.
[1] Translated by G. H. A. Meyer and J. Henry Wiggin,
from the manuscript of Camille Flammarion.
The human soul would seem to be a spiritual substance, endowed with
psychical force, capable of acting outside bodily limits. This force,
like all others, may be transmissible into the form of electricity or
heat, or may be capable of bringing into activity certain latent
energies while it yet remains intimately united with our mental being.
We propound questions to the table, already impressed with our nervous
impetus, on subjects interesting to ourselves; and then we ourselves
unconsciously inspire the responses. The table speaks to us in our own
language, giving back our own ideas, within the limits of our own
knowledge, conversing with us about our opinions and views, as we
might discuss them with ourselves. This is absolutely the
reflection--direct or remote, precise or vague--of our own feelings
and thoughts. All my efforts to establish the identity of a stranger
spirit, unknown to the persons present, have failed.
On the other hand, attentive examination of different communications
leads us toward a conclusion as to their origin. When amidst the
Marquis de Mirville's revelations, one is in the full swing of Roman
Catholic diabolism--demons, spirits, purgatory, miracles,
prayers,--nothing is lacking. With the Count de Gasparin, we are in
the bosom of Rational Protestantism, which is absolutely the opposite
of the other. Here are no present miracles, no devils, but simply a
physical agency, a fluid obedient to volition. In the experiences of
Eugene Nus's circle, we find the language of Fourier discoursing about
the phalanstery, about racial solidarity, and socialistic religion.
Therein are found earthly music chanted in space,--songs of Saturn and
Jupiter dictated under the influence of Alyre Bureau, who was the
musician for the spiritualist society of Allan-Kardec. Here we have
disembodied spirits of all ranks, and this is the apostolate of their
reincarnation.
In the United States, on the contrary, the moving tables declare that
the hypothesis of reincarnation is absurd and misleading; and it may
be assumed that none of the persons present, especially the ladies,
would for one moment admit the possibility of being some day
reincarnated beneath the skin of a negro. A brilliant imagination,
like that of Sardou, will picture to us Jupiter's castles; a musician
may receive the revelation of a musical composition, more or less
charming; an astronomer may be favored with astronomical
communications. Is this physical auto-suggestion? Not absolutely,
since the force goes outside of ourselves, in order to act. It is
rather _mental_ suggestion; yet an idea cannot be suggested to a piece
of wood. This is, therefore, the direct action of the mind. I cannot
find a better name for it than _psychical force_, a term, as already
stated, which I have used since 1865, and which has since become the
fashion.
The action of mind, outside the body, has other testimony, however.
Magnetism, hypnotism, suggestion, telepathy prove this every day. It
cannot be disputed that here also we encounter many illusions.
Some ten years ago a learned physician at Nice, Doctor Barety, the
author of "La Force Neurique Rayonnante et Circulante" (The Radiation
and Circulation of Nervous Force) devoted himself to ingenious
experiments in the distant transmission of thought as observable in a
magnetized person. In these experiments, in which I assisted, it
seemed to me that the subject's sense of hearing amply sufficed to
explain the results.
Take one case. The subject began to count aloud, while the magnetizer
was in an adjoining room, the door standing open between them. At a
certain moment the doctor, with all his energy, projected his "nervous
fluid" from his hands, and the magnetized subject forthwith ceased
counting; yet the doctor's linen cuffs made enough noise to indicate
what he commanded, though no word was spoken. During the experiments
at Salpétrière and at Ivry, to which Doctor Luys was kind enough to
invite me, I thought I observed that a previous knowledge of the
sequence of the experiments furnished a wide margin for the exercise
of the personal faculties of the young women upon whom the experiments
were made. These suspicions, however, did not prevent certain facts in
regard to mental suggestion from being absolutely incontestable.
Here is one among others:--
Doctor Ochorowiez was attending a lady troubled with long-standing
hysterio-epilepsy, aggravated by a maniacal inclination to suicide.
Madame M. was twenty-seven years of age, and had a vigorous
constitution. She appeared to be in excellent health. Her active and
gay temperament was united with extreme moral sensibility. Her
character was specially truthful. Her profound goodness was tinctured
with a tendency toward self-sacrifice. Her intelligence was
remarkable. Her talents were many, and her perceptive faculties were
good. At times she would display a lack of willpower, and an element
of painful indecision; while at other times she showed exceptional
firmness. The slightest moral fatigue, any unexpected impression,
though of trifling importance, whether agreeable or otherwise,
reacted, although slowly and imperceptibly, upon her vaso-motor
nerves, and brought on convulsive attacks and a nervous swoon. Writes
Dr. Ochorowiez in his work on Mental Suggestion:
One day, or rather one night, her attack being over
(including a phase of delirium), the patient fell quietly
asleep. Awaking suddenly, and seeing us (one of her female
friends and myself) still near her, she begged us to go
away, and not to tire ourselves needlessly on her account.
She was so persistent that, fearing a nervous crisis, we
departed. I went slowly downstairs, for she resided on the
fourth story, and I paused several times to listen
attentively, troubled by an evil presentiment; for she had
wounded herself several times a few days before. I had
already reached the courtyard, when I paused again, asking
myself whether or not I ought to go away.
All at once her window opened with a slam, and I saw the
sick woman leaning out with a rapid motion. I rushed to the
spot where she might fall; and mechanically, without
attaching any great importance to the impulse, I
concentrated all my will in one great desire to oppose her
precipitation.
The patient was influenced, however, though already leaning
far out, and retreated slowly and spasmodically from the
window. The same movements were repeated five times in
succession, until the patient, seemingly fatigued, at last
remained motionless, her back leaning against the casement
of the window, which was still open.
She could not see me, as I was in the shadow far below, and
it was night. At that moment, her friend, Mademoiselle X.,
ran in, and caught madame in her arms. I heard them
struggling together, and hastened up the stairs to
mademoiselle's assistance. I found the invalid in a frenzy
of excitement. She did not recognize us, but mistook us for
robbers. I could only draw her away from the window by using
violence enough to throw her upon her knees. Several times
she tried to bite me; but after much trouble, I succeeded in
replacing the poor lady in her bed. While maintaining my
grasp with one hand, I induced a contraction of her arms,
and finally put her to sleep.
When again in a somnambulistic state, her first words were:
"Thanks!--pardon!"
Then she told me that she positively intended to throw
herself out of the window, but that each time she felt as if
she were "stayed from below."
"How so?"
"I do not know."
"Did you have any suspicion of my presence?"
"No! it was precisely because I believed you away, that I
proposed to carry out my design. However, it seemed to me at
times that you were near me, or behind me, and that you did
not want me to fall."
Here is another experiment still more striking. Pierre Janet,
Professor of Philosophy in the Havre Lycée, and Monsieur Gibert, a
physician, selected as a subject for their observation a certain
woman, a native of Brittany. She was fifty years old, robust, and
moderately sensitive to hypnotic influences. On October 10, 1885, they
agreed upon the following command:
To-morrow, at noon, lock the doors of your house.
W.
This suggestion Dr. Janet inscribed upon a sheet of paper, which he
carried about in his pocket, not communicating its purport to anybody.
Dr. Gibert made the suggestion by placing his forehead against the
woman's, while she was in a lethargic slumber; and for a few moments
he concentrated his mind upon the mental command he was giving.
Writes Janet concerning this incident:
On the morrow we went to the house, at fifteen minutes
before twelve, and found the entrance barricaded and the
doors locked. Inquiry proved that madame herself had closed
them. When I asked her, next day, why she had done such a
strange thing, she replied: "I felt very tired, and did not
want you to come in and put me to sleep."
She was greatly agitated at the time. She continually
wandered about the garden, and I saw her pluck a rose, and
go towards the letter-box, which was near the gate. These
actions were of no importance; but it is curious to note
that these last actions were precisely those the day before
we had thought of ordering her to perform, though we
afterwards decided upon a different suggestion, namely, that
of locking the doors. Undoubtedly his first suggestion
occupied Gibert's mind while he was giving the second, and
had a corresponding influence over the woman.
Here is still another experiment, related by Doctor Dusart:
Every day, before leaving a certain young patient, I
commanded her to sleep until a specified hour the next day.
Once I came away, forgetting this precaution, and I was
seven hundred yards away before I thought of it. Being
unable to retrace my steps, I said to myself that my wish
might perhaps be felt, notwithstanding the distance, since a
silent suggestion was sometimes obeyed at an interval of one
or two yards. I therefore formulated my command that she
should sleep until eight o'clock the next morning, and then
kept on my way. The next day I called again, at half-past
seven, and found my patient still asleep.
"How happens it that you are still asleep?"
"Why, Monsieur, I am obeying your orders."
"You are mistaken. I went away without giving any such
command!"
"That is so! but five minutes later I distinctly heard you
tell me to sleep until eight o'clock."
As it was not yet eight, and as eight was the hour I usually
indicated, the possibility suggested itself that her
awakening was the result of an illusion, arising from habit,
and perhaps, after all, this was a case of simple
coincidence. In order to make a clean breast of it, and
leave no room for doubt, I ordered the invalid to sleep
until she should receive a command to awake.
During the day, having a few spare moments, I resolved to
complete the experiment. On leaving my house, seven
kilometers away, I mentally gave the order for her to wake
up. I noticed that it was two o'clock. On reaching the house
I found her awake. Her parents, following my advice, had
noted the precise time of her awakening. It was the very
hour at which I gave the command.
This experiment was repeated several times, at different
hours, and always with kindred results.
This is really very interesting; but here is something which appears
more extraordinary.
On the first of January I discontinued my visits, and my
relations to the family ceased. I had not even heard them
spoken of; yet on January 12, as I was making some visits in
an opposite direction, ten kilometers away from my former
patient, I found myself wondering if it was still possible
to make her hear my mental commands, despite the distance
separating us, despite the cessation of my relations to the
family, and despite the intervention of a third party, the
father himself, who was magnetizing his daughter. I
therefore bade the patient not fall asleep. Half an hour
later, reflecting that if, by some extraordinary chance, my
command was obeyed, this might prejudice the mind of the
unfortunate girl against me, I withdrew my prohibition, and
dismissed it from my thoughts. On the following morning, at
six o'clock, I was greatly surprised by the arrival of a
messenger, bringing me a letter from the father of the young
lady, in which he informed me that on the day before,
January 12, at ten o'clock in the forenoon, he was unable to
put his daughter to sleep, except by a prolonged and
disagreeable struggle. When she at last fell asleep she
declared that if she had resisted, it was because of my
command, and that she finally fell asleep only because I
permitted it.
These declarations had been made before witnesses, whom the
father had asked to countersign his report. I have preserved
this letter, and have added a few circumstantial details
thereto.
It is, therefore, probable that, with an exact knowledge or
phenomenal conditions, we may eventually be able to mentally
transmit entire thoughts to distant points, as is done now
by telephone.
Independently of magnetism, it is difficult not to believe that two
persons, mutually dear to each other, although separated by certain
circumstances, may remain united by their thoughts, with a tenacity
which nothing can disturb, especially if the circumstances are grave.
The thoughts of the one react upon the mind of the other, as if the
beatings of one heart could transmit themselves to another heart.
There is a certain psychical tie between the two; and at the time when
one especially concentrates his voluntary force upon the other, it is
not unusual for the latter to feel the reaction, and be plunged into a
revery even more intense. The transmission of thought--or, to speak
more exactly, _suggestion_,--is, under these conditions, a matter for
observation, which might frequently be applied.
I shall not here consider the phenomena of telepathy or ghosts.
Readers of THE ARENA have been favored with Mr. Wallace's excellent
articles on this point, and it would be superfluous to reconsider it.
No doubt our readers are also acquainted with the examples reported in
my work called Urania, and have long been aware that I believe in the
possibility of communications between invisible beings and ourselves.
In the point of view at which I have placed myself in this technical
and essentially scientific outline, I have taken care to carefully
distinguish the things seen by myself from those which I have not
seen.
I do not belong to the same class with those who say: "We have not
seen it, and therefore it cannot be." There are honest people
everywhere. There are, perhaps, few exact observers, capable of
reporting facts, without changing anything in their recitals; but
there are witnesses we cannot well gainsay.
Here, for example, is a letter among many recently addressed to me,
relative to certain extraordinary facts.
Your work, Urania, has prompted me to bring to your
knowledge an event which I heard related by the very person
to whom it happened,-a Danish physician, named Vogler,
residing at Gudum, near Alborg, in Jutland.
Vogler is a man of robust health, both in mind and body. He
has an upright and positive disposition, without the least
tendency (but quite the contrary) to nervous excitability.
He related to me the following story, which I have often
heard confirmed by others as the unadorned and exact truth.
When a young man, studying medicine, he travelled in Germany
with Count Schimmuelmann, a noted name among the nobility of
Holstein, who was about his own age. They hired a small
house in a German university town where they proposed to
stay for sometime. The Count lived in the apartments on the
ground floor, while Vogler occupied the next story; and the
street door, as well as the stairway, were used by
themselves alone. One night, when Mr. Vogler was reading in
bed, he suddenly heard the door at the foot of the stairs
open and shut; but he did not pay any attention to it,
believing the Count had just come in. A few moments later he
heard slow and tired footsteps ascend the stairs, and stop
at his chamber door. He saw the door open, but nobody
appeared. The footsteps did not cease, however, for he heard
them on the floor, advancing from the door to the bed. He
could see absolutely nothing, although the light was
continuously burning; and he could not understand the
affair, not recognizing the footsteps. When the steps had
drawn very near the bed, he heard a great sigh, which he at
once recognized as that of his grandmother, whom he had left
in good health at their home in Denmark. At the same instant
he also recognized the step, which was, indeed, the halting
and aged step of his grandmother. Looking at his watch,
which he had placed under his pillow, Vogler noted the exact
hour, and made a memorandum of it, for he at once surmised
that his grandmother might be dying at the very instant. At
a later day he received a letter from the paternal home,
announcing the sudden death of his grandmother, who
particularly cherished him above the other grandchildren.
This established the fact that her death occurred at the
very hour indicated. In this manner did the venerable woman
take leave of her grandson, who did not even know of her
illness.
EDWARD HAMBRO,
_Counselor-at-law, and Secretary of Public Works
in the City of Christiana._
Here, as may be seen, is a fact, observed as precisely as a scientific
experiment; and it might be added to those I have published in Urania.
I will adduce one more fact, which was observed very long ago, in
1784, by my great-grandfather, on my mother's side.
It occurred in Illand, a little village in the county of Bar, which
to-day belongs to the Department of Haute-Marne, not far from the
native place of both my maternal grandfather and myself. In childhood
I spent all my vacations there among the vine-planted hills, face to
face with gracious landscapes, amid forests alive with bird songs. The
house yet stands in which the incident happened. It is at the entrance
of the village, on the right, and is called the Chateau. One evening
my great-grandmother, on returning from her work in the fields,
perceived, by the huge chimney-corner (which can still be seen), her
brother, who had been dead several months. He was seated, and seemed
to be warming himself. "My God!" she exclaimed in affright, "it's our
dead Rolet!" and then she ran away. Her husband, entering in his turn,
also saw his brother-in-law sitting by the fireplace. At that critical
moment one of the farm hands uttered an oath, and the apparition
vanished.
I give this narrative as it was related to me. No misgivings as to the
reality of the vision existed in the minds of the personages in my
grandmother's household.
Allow me to mention another illustration. In February, 1889, I
received from H. Van der Kerkhare the following communication,
relating to an article I had published about this class of phenomena.
While in Texas, on August 25, 1874, towards sunset, I was
smoking my after-dinner pipe in a room on the ground floor
of the house I occupied. I was facing the wall, with a door
on my right opening towards the northwest. Here is a diagram
of the scene.
[Illustration]
Suddenly I saw my old grandfather in the doorway. I was in
that semi-conscious state of well-being and quietude natural
to a man with a good appetite who has dined satisfactorily.
I was not at all astonished to see my grandfather there. In
fact, I was vegetating just then, thinking of nothing in
particular. Nevertheless, I said to myself:--"It is droll
that the rays of the setting sun should pour gold and purple
through the least folds of my grandfather's garments and
face." In fact, the setting sun was red, and threw its last
horizontal rays diagonally athwart the doorway. Grandfather
had a beneficent countenance. He smiled and seemed happy.
All at once he disappeared along with the vanishing sun, and
I roused myself as from a dream, but with the conviction
that I had seen an apparition. Six weeks afterwards I was
apprised by letter that my grandfather had died on the night
of August 25 and 26 between one and two o'clock. Well, there
is a difference of five and one-half hours between the
longitude of Belgium, where my grandfather died, and the
longitude of Texas where I was, and where the sun set at
about seven o'clock.
It would be easy to cite a large number of similar cases. Let me end
this section with the following conclusion of Ch. Richet, the learned
editor of the _Revue Scientifique_:--
Unless we discredit the value of all human testimony, these
stories are veritable and accurate. Whenever kindred
incidents are reproduced by experiment, telepathy will no
longer be disputed, but admitted as a natural phenomenon, as
well proven as the rotation of the earth, or as the
contagion of tuberculosis. To-day's audacious theories will,
in a few years, seem almost like infantile truisms.
We have now come to the closing section of this already long
essay,--namely, to the explanation of such phenomena as table-tipping,
spirit rapping and dictation, and distant transmission of thought. Let
us confess that it is much easier to unfold and discuss such facts,
than to determine their _modus operandi_. I will add that, even if in
the present state of our knowledge, it is impossible to explain these
facts, there is no shadow of a reason for rejecting them.
The theory with which we conclude has been anticipated by the
preceding sections.
What is the universe? What is nature? What are beings? What are
things?
From astronomy to physiology, everything constrains us to allow the
existence of at least two elements--force and matter.
The order and laws of the universe, together with human thought and
consciousness, lead us to admit (besides force and matter) a third
element--intelligence; for speaking only of the constituency of our
planet, no chemical combination whatever has ever been known to
produce an idea.
Force directs. Matter obeys.
Force is invisible and so is matter.
All matter whatsoever is composed of atoms, too infinitesimal for our
perception, and even invisible beneath the most powerful microscope
but whose existence is demonstrated by chemistry, as well as by
physics. The molecules of iron, gold, hydrogen, oxygen, carbon, appear
to be groups of atoms. Even if we deny the existence of atoms, and
admit only the existence of molecules, they also are invisible.
Matter, therefore, in its very essence, is invisible. Our eyes behold
only motion and transitory forms. Our hands touch only appearances.
Hardness and softness, heat and cold, weight and lightness, are
relative, not absolute conditions.
What we call matter is only an effect produced upon our senses by the
motion of atoms,--that is to say, by our unceasing receptivity to
sensations.
The universe is a dynamic conglomerate. Atoms are in perpetual motion,
caused by forces. All is movement. Heat, light, electricity,
terrestrial magnetism, do not exist as independent agents. They are
but modes of motion. That which actually exists is force. It is force
that sustains the universe. It is force that projects the earth into
space. It is force that constitutes living creatures.
The human soul is a principle of force. Thought is a dynamic act.
Psychical force acts upon the matter composing our bodies, and
actuates all our members to fulfil their tasks. Like all forces,
psychical force can transform itself, can become electricity, heat,
light, motion; for these are all modes of motion. Psychical force is
itself in motion.
It can act outside the limits of the human organism, and can
temporarily animate a table. I place my hands on a round table, with a
firm desire to see it obey my will. I communicate to it a certain
heat, a certain electricity, a certain polarization, or a certain
other something we have not yet discovered. The stand becomes, so to
speak, an extension of my body, and submits to the influence of my
will. I look at a person. I take his hand. I thus act upon him.
More than this. If the brain of another person vibrates in unison with
mine, or has at one in harmony with the keynote of my own brain, I can
act upon him, even from a distance.
If I emit a sound a few yards from a piano, those piano-strings which
are in harmony with my utterance will vibrate, and themselves send
forth a kindred sound, easily distinguishable.
A telegraph wire transmits a despatch: A neighboring wire is
influenced by induction; and it has been possible, by the aid of this
second and separate wire, to read messages sent over the first.
There is still more to be said. The principle of the transformation of
force to-day opens to us new views which might well be called
marvellous. We every day make use of the telephone, without thinking
that it is, in itself, more astonishing than all the occult facts
considered in this paper.
You speak. Your voice is transmitted ten or twenty thousand
kilometers, from Paris to Marseilles, and even farther away. You think
it is your own voice which is heard and recognized at the other end of
the wire; but it is not; your voice has not made the journey. Sound of
itself, in its ordinary state, is not transmitted with anything like
the rapidity attending this flight over the copper wire. If it were
otherwise, we should have to wait seven hours and twenty-four seconds
for a response, whereas there is no appreciable delay in the
telephonic passage of sound. The usual vocal velocity becomes electric
velocity, and the interval between the terminal stations of the wire
is traversed instantaneously. On reaching its destination, the current
again transforms itself into sound through its encounter with a
medial, an environment like that at its starting-point.
Is the conductive wire indispensable? By no means! Is there a
connecting wire between the sun and the earth? Yet the spots on the
sun occasion rebounds in the variations of terrestrial magnetism. In
the photophone the conductive wire has already been dispensed with,
and a ray of light is used in its place. You speak behind a mirror,
and thus cause it to vibrate. These vibrations modify the reflection
of light from the vibrating mirror, which thus bears along your voice,
with which it becomes charged. Selenium, the chemical element used in
the operation, transmits the sound to the telephone, and your spoken
word is reproduced.
The principal of the transformation of forces is undoubtedly one of
the most prolific in modern physics. Heat can be transformed into
mechanical motion; mechanical motion may be transformed into heat.
Electricity is transformable into magnetism; and, reciprocally,
magnetism may change into electricity, into light. The motion of the
mill-wheel serves to illuminate your house. From Paris you can light a
lamp in Brussels. When you act from afar upon another mind, it is not
your thought which travels, as a mental condition; but your thought
traverses the intervening ether through a series of vibrations as yet
unknown to us, and only becomes thought again when brought into
contact with another brain, because the last transference brings the
impulse into a medium akin to that from which it started. It is
therefore necessary that this second brain should be in sympathy with
yours; that is to say, using one of Doctor Ochorowiez's expressions,
that "the dynamic tone" of the receiver should be in accord with your
own. It is, moreover, noticeable that there are periods when veritable
thought-currents affect thousands of brains at the same moment. At the
bottom of all this there is but one principle, and that is identical
with the relation existing between the magnet and the iron, between
the sun and the earth,--namely, the transmission and transformation of
motion. Herbert Spencer has said:--
The discovery that matter, so simple in appearance, is
wonderfully complicated in its vital structure,--and that
other discovery, that its molecules, oscillating with a
rapidity almost infinite, convey their impressions to the
surrounding ether, which, in turn, transmits them over
inconceivable distances, in an inconceivably short space of
time,--these discoveries lead us to the even more marvellous
discovery, that any kind of molecules are affected in a
special manner by molecules of the same kind, though
situated in the most distant regions of space.
It requires but one step more for the admission that psychical
communications may be established between an inhabitant of Mars and an
inhabitant of the earth.
We are often asked what all these studies amount to. That is still
unknown. If they should end in a scientific proof of the existence and
immortality of the soul, these investigations would forthwith surpass
in value all other human sciences put together, without a single
exception.
It must be acknowledged that this reason is a sufficient authorization
for us not to despise this class of researches. But this argument is
needless. These investigations relate to the unknown, and that reason
is all-sufficient.
Did Galvani in examining the convulsions of his frogs, have any idea
of the immense, the prodigious, the universal part which electric
science was to perform in less than a century? Denis Papin and Robert
Fulton, Benjamin Franklin and James Watts, Jouffroy and Daguerre,--all
the inventors, all the searchers after truth,--were they wrong in
losing themselves in their pursuit of the unknown? It is such men who
cause the advance of humanity. It is to them mankind owes its
progress.
If it were proved, we say, that there exists outside of us, and even
within us, an immaterial and spiritual force, which eludes the known
processes of nature, and the acknowledged laws of life,--and which
reveals itself by other processes and other laws, which do not
supplant the first, but take an equal place beside them, this new
knowledge might enlighten somewhat the shadows which now conceal the
great secret of the origin and destiny of such poor beings as
ourselves.
First of all, let us seek the truth. To be sure, Taine has written
very wittily: "I never thought that a truth could be of any practical
use!" but we may not be of the same mind, and may think, on the
contrary, that the search for truth is the prime object of men's
intellectual existence.
THE SWISS AND AMERICAN CONSTITUTIONS,
BY W. D. McCRACKAN.
The study of federalism, as a system of government, has in recent
times become a favorite subject for constitutional writers. At present
the United States and the Dominion of Canada on this continent, the
newly constituted Australian Commonwealth at the Antipodes, and in
Europe the German Empire, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and the Swiss
Confederation are all examples of the application of the federal
principle in its various phases. What makes all researches into this
branch of political learning particularly difficult, and perhaps for
that reason also exceptionally fascinating, is the fact that federated
states seem forever oscillating between the two extremes of complete
centralization and decentralization. The two forces, centripetal and
centrifugal, seem to be always pulling against each other, and
producing a new resultant which varies according to their
proportionate intensity. One is almost tempted to say that there must
be an ideal state somewhere between these two extremes, some point of
perfect balance, from which no nation can ever depart very far without
either falling apart into anarchy or being consolidated into
despotism. Whatever, therefore, can throw light upon these obscure
forces is certainly entitled to our deepest interest.
But not all the different states mentioned above as representatives of
federalism, possess an equal value for us in our search after
improvements in the art of self-government. The study of the
constitutions of the German and Austro-Hungarian empires can only be
of secondary importance to us Americans, because these states are
founded upon monarchical principles, quite foreign to our body
politic. To a limited extent, the same objection may be made to the
Canadian and Australian constitutions, since the connection of those
countries with the monarchical mother country has not been
constitutionally severed. But there is another federated state in
existence, until lately almost ignored by writers on political
subjects, whose example can in reality be of the utmost use to us, for
its general organization more nearly resembles our own in miniature
than any other. This country is Switzerland. In her quiet fashion the
unobtrusive little Confederation is working out some of the great
modern problems, and her citizens, with their natural aptitude for
self-government, are presenting object lessons which we especially in
America cannot afford to overlook. It is true that political analogies
are sometimes a little perilous, for identical situations can never be
reproduced in different countries, but if there be any virtue at all
in the study of comparative politics, a comparison between the Federal
constitutions of Switzerland and the United States ought to throw into
relief some features which can be of service to us.
To be perfectly frank, the Swiss constitution, when placed side by
side with our own, at first shows certain decided short-comings. The
Constitution of the United States is an eminently logical,
well-balanced document, in which a masterly distinction is made
between the executive, legislative, and judicial functions of
government, and between matters which belong by nature to organic law,
and those which may safely be left to the statute law. In the Swiss
constitution, however, the line which separates these departments is
not as clearly drawn, so that, in fact, a certain amount of confusion
in their treatment becomes apparent. In the primitive leagues which
were concluded between the early Confederates no attempt was made to
draw up regular constitutions, and the one now in force dates only
from 1848, with amendments made in 1874, 1879, and 1885, an instrument
still somewhat imperfect, perhaps, but none the less suggestive to the
student.
There are two institutions in the Swiss state which bear a very strong
likeness to corresponding ones in our own. Both countries have a
legislative system consisting of two houses, one representing the
people numerically, and the other the Cantons or States of which the
Union is composed, and both possess a Supreme Court, which in
Switzerland goes by the name of the Federal Tribunal. It is generally
conceded that the Swiss consciously imitated these American
institutions, but in doing so they certainly took care to adapt them
to their own particular needs, so that the two sets of institutions
are by no means identical. The Swiss National Council and Council of
States, forming together the Federal Assembly, are equal, co-ordinate
bodies, performing the same functions, whereas our House of
Representatives and Senate have particular duties assigned to each,
and the former occupies in a measure a subordinate position to the
latter. The Swiss Houses meet twice a year in regular sessions, on the
first Monday in June and the first Monday in December, and for extra
sessions if there is special unfinished business to transact. The
National Council is composed at present of 147 members, one
representative to every 20,000 inhabitants. Every citizen of
twenty-one is a voter; and every voter not a clergyman is eligible to
this National Council--the exclusion of the clergy is due to dread of
religious quarrels, with which the pages of Swiss history have been
only too frequently stained. A general election takes place every
three years. The salary of the representatives is four dollars a day,
which is forfeited by non-attendance, and about five cents a mile for
travelling expenses. On the other hand, the Council of States is
composed of forty-four members, two for each of the twenty-two
Cantons. The length of their terms of office is left entirely to the
discretion of the Cantons which elect them, and in the same manner
their salaries are paid out of the Cantonal treasuries. There are
certain special occasions when the two houses meet together and act in
concert: first, for the election of the Federal Council, which
corresponds in a general way to our President and his Cabinet;
secondly, for the election of the Federal Tribunal; thirdly, for that
of the Chancellor of the Confederation, an official whose duties seem
to be those of a secretary to the Federal Council and Federal
Assembly, and fourthly, for that of the Commander-in-Chief in case of
war. The attributes of the Swiss Federal Tribunal, though closely
resembling those of our Supreme Court, are not identical with them,
for the Swiss conception of the sovereignty of the people is quite
different from our own. Their Federal Assembly is the repository of
the national sovereignty, and, therefore, no other body can override
its decisions. The Supreme Court of the United States tests the
constitutionality of laws passed by Congress which may be submitted to
it for examination, thus placing itself as arbiter over the
representatives of the people; but the Federal Tribunal must accept as
final all laws which have passed through the usual channels, so that
its duty consists merely in applying them to particular cases without
questioning their constitutionality.
If there is a certain resemblance between the Federal Assembly and our
Congress, and between the Federal Tribunal and our Supreme Court,
there is on the other hand a striking difference between the Federal
Council and our presidential office.
The Swiss Constitution does not intrust the executive power to one
man, as our own does, but to a Federal Council of seven members,
acting as a sort of Board of Administration. These seven men are
elected for a fixed term of three years, out of the ranks of the whole
body of voters throughout the country, by the two Houses, united in
joint session. Every year they also designate, from the seven members
of the Federal Council, the two persons who shall act as President and
Vice-President of the Swiss Confederation. The Swiss President is,
therefore, only the chairman of an executive board, and presents a
complete contrast to the President of the United States, who is
virtually a monarch, elected for a short reign. Sir Henry Maine says
in his book on "Popular Government," that somewhat exasperating but
always instructive arraignment of democracy: "On the face of the
Constitution of the United States, the resemblance of the President of
the United States to the European king, and especially to the King of
Great Britain, is too obvious to mistake. The President has, in
various degrees, a number of powers which those who know something of
kingship in its general history recognize at once as peculiarly
associated with it and with no other institution." In truth he is
vested with all the attributes of sovereignty during his term of
office. He holds in his hand the whole executive power of the
government; he is Commander-in-Chief of the army and navy; possesses a
suspensory veto upon legislation and the privilege of pardoning
offences against Federal law, and finally is intrusted with an
appointing power unparalleled in any free country. With all this
authority he is still a partisan by reason of the manner of his
election, so that he cannot possibly administer his office
impartially, and must, from the necessity of the case, forward the
interests of one political party at the expense of the rest. It is
certainly worthy of consideration whether the Swiss Federal Council
does not contain valuable suggestions for reformers who desire to
hasten the triumph of absolute democracy in the United States.
The institution of the Referendum has no counterpart in our own
country, unless we except the somewhat unwieldy provisions in various
States for the revisions of their constitutions by popular vote. It is
undoubtedly the most successful experiment in applying the principles
of direct government which has been made in modern times. Having
already written more fully upon this subject in the March number of
THE ARENA, the writer will here confine himself to reminding the
readers of this review that the referendum is an institution by means
of which laws framed by the representatives are submitted to the
people for rejection or approval. It is significant of the interest
which the referendum is already exciting in this country that a
committee of gentlemen recently presented themselves at the State
House to urge the adoption of this principle in local matters.
There are, besides, a host of minor differences between the Swiss and
American Constitutions, of more or less interest to students of
politics and economics.
The central government in Switzerland maintains a university, the
Polytechnic at Zürich, and by virtue of the constitution also exerts
an influence over education throughout the Confederation. Article 27
prescribes that the Cantons shall provide compulsory primary
instruction to be placed in charge of the civil authorities and to be
gratuitous in all public schools. In practice these provisions have
been found difficult to enforce where the spirit of the population was
opposed to them, as in Uri, the most illiterate of the Cantons, where
the writer found educational matters entirely in the hands of the
priesthood. Fortunately, however, the Swiss people at large have a
very keen appreciation of the value of education, so that illiteracy,
as we have it in this country, among the negroes and the poor whites
of the South, as well as amongst certain classes of our immigrants, is
really unknown in Switzerland. Someone has jestingly said that there
"the primary business of the state is to keep school," and really, in
travelling through the country which gave birth to Pestalozzi, one is
continually impressed with the size and comparative splendor of the
schoolhouses; in every village and hamlet they have the appearance of
being the very best which the community by scrimping and saving can
possibly put up. On the subject of import duties, the Constitution
lays down in Article 29 as general rules to guide the conduct of
legislators, that "materials which are necessary to the industries and
agriculture of the country shall be taxed as low as possible; the same
rule shall be observed in regard to the necessaries of life. Articles
of luxury shall be subjected to the highest taxes." From this set of
principles it will be seen that Switzerland levies her duties for
revenue only, as the phrase is, although it must be confessed that
there is a perceptible tendency now manifested to raise the duties in
consequence of the high protectionist wave which is sweeping over the
continent of Europe at the present moment. When the statistics of
Switzerland's general trade, including all goods in transit, which, of
course, make a considerable portion of the whole, are compared with
those of other European states, it is found that she possesses a
greater amount of general trade per head of population than any other
country, more even than England. The telegraph and telephone systems
are managed by the central government, as well as the post office,
with excellent results. Not only are these departments conducted in an
exemplary manner upon cheap terms, but a respectable revenue is also
derived from them which makes a good showing in the annual budget.
Everything which is connected with the army, from the selection of the
recruits to the election of the Commander-in-Chief, also possesses
exceptional interest, because Switzerland is the only country in the
world which has so far succeeded in maintaining an efficient militia
without the vestige of a standing army. An attempt was made in 1885 to
deal with the evils of intemperance, by establishing a state monopoly
of the manufacture and sale of spirituous liquors, the Revenue thus
derived being apportioned amongst the Cantons according to population,
with the proviso that ten per cent. of it be used by them to combat
the causes and effects of alcoholism in their midst. It is too early
to speak of the final results of this legislation, but for the moment
there seems to be a decided falling off in the consumption of the
cruder and more injurious qualities. Amongst other matters which the
Federal authorities have brought under their supervision, are the
forests, river improvements, ordinary roads, and railroads, and
bridges, etc., not managing them all directly, but reserving the right
to regulate them at will. Even hunting and fishing come within the
jurisdiction of the central government, this constitutional power
having been used to preserve the chamois in certain mountain ranges
where they were threatening to disappear completely, but where, thanks
to timely interference, they are now actually on the increase.
Apart from these constitutional provisions, the general drift of
legislative action seems to have set in very strongly towards a mild
form of state socialism, somewhat after the form of the Prussian
system, but with this difference, that in the case of Switzerland it
is the people who unite to delegate certain powers to the state, while
in the latter country this policy is imposed upon the people from
above by the ruling authorities. The altogether exceptional clauses in
the Swiss Constitution referring to the exclusion of the Jesuits, a
survival of the war of 1848, to the so-called Heimatlosen, or those
who have no commune of origin, and to the police appointed to control
the movements of foreign agitators seeking the asylum of the country,
all these have a purely local interest, and need not be especially
examined.
What, then, is the peculiar mark and symbol of the Swiss Constitution,
taken as a whole? When all has been said and done, the most
characteristic provisions are those which introduce forms of direct
government or of pure democracy, as the technical expression is. The
supremacy of the legislative branch, as representing the people, the
peculiar make-up of the Federal Council, the limited powers of the
Federal Tribunal, and above all the institution of the referendum, are
all evidences of this tendency toward direct government. In the
Cantonal governments the same quality is still more apparent, for it
is from them that the Swiss Federal Constitution has borrowed the
principles which underlie these characteristic provisions. In point of
fact, representative democracy has never felt quite at home in
Switzerland; there has always been an effort to revert to simpler,
more straightforward methods; to reduce the distance which separates
the people from the exercise of their sovereignty; and to constitute
them into a court of final appeal.
In view of the marvellous stability which the pure democracy of
Switzerland has displayed, there is something comical in the horror of
all forms of direct government expressed by most constitutional
writers. De Tocqueville, whom we honor for his appreciation of our own
Constitution, declares "that they all tend to render the government of
the people irregular in its action, precipitate in its resolutions,
and tyrannical in its acts." Mr. George Grote also condemns the
referendum, and of course one cannot expect pure democracy to be
praised by Sir Henry Maine, who believes that "the progress of mankind
has hitherto been effected by the rise and fall of aristocracies." On
the other hand it is refreshing to hear Mr. Freeman and Mr. Dicey
actually discussing the practicability of introducing the referendum
into the English political system.
After all, is not this very quality of directness a great
recommendation, when we consider the rubbish which at present clogs
the wheels of our political machinery, the complications which confuse
the voter and hide the real issues from his comprehension? The very
epithets pure and direct satisfy at once our best aspirations and our
common sense. If monarchy is the government of one, oligarchy that of
a few, and democracy that of many, surely there will some day arise
the rule of all. The United States seems to be standing at the parting
of two ways, one of which leads back in a vicious circle to plutocracy
and despotism, while the other advances towards a genuine pure
democracy. No nation can stand still. Which way shall it be?
THE TYRANNY OF ALL THE PEOPLE.
BY REV. FRANCIS BELLAMY.
Dr. Whewell observed that the acceptance of every new idea passed
through three stages: 1. It is absurd; 2. It is contrary to the Bible;
3. We always believed it. Change the second stage to, It is
unscientific, and the diagram may apply to socialism. We have
certainly emerged from the period when it was considered a valid
argument to call socialism somebody's dream. It is now treated with a
scientific earnestness which betrays its progress in general thought.
This serious grappling with the subject is noted in the recent "Plea
for Liberty," by some of Mr. Herbert Spencer's disciples, for which
Mr. Spencer himself has written an elaborate introduction.
The same earnestness is felt in the masterly editorial, "Is Socialism
Desirable?" in THE ARENA for May. This is a solid contribution to the
permanent literature of the subject. It is not a surprise that it has
commanded such wide attention. Its deep thoughtfulness, its strategic
selection of only vital points for its attack, and, not the least, its
kindliness and chivalry, mark it as a notable production. I truly
appreciate the honor of being chosen by this knightly antagonist to
face the attack on his own sands.
It is not without some question, however, that I accept the generous
challenge. For I am not sure that I myself believe in the military
type of socialism which the editor seems continually to have in mind.
The book, which more than all others combined has brought socialism
before American thought, has also furnished to its opponents a
splendidly clear target in its military organization. It cannot be
repeated too often, however, that the army type is not conceded by
socialists to be an essential, even, of nationalistic socialism.
Democratic socialism differs considerably from military socialism, and
may be fully as national in its reach. In so far as Mr. Flower's
arguments apply to democratic socialism, the following paragraphs may
be taken as a rejoinder.
To bring the chief counts of the editor's indictment again clearly
before the readers, it will be well to summarize them:--
(1) National socialism means governmentalism, which is tyranny over
the individual.
(2) National socialism means paternalism, which, exercised by all the
people, is the most hopeless kind of tyranny.
(3) National socialism means the arrest of progress, because the
majority will surely tyrannize over the small "vanguard of human
progress."
(4) National socialism will be needless when the people are educated
to the fraternalism which alone could temper the inevitable despotism
of the majority.
There is a period in every agitation of a new idea when the most
prosperous weapon against it is a thumping epithet. The name must be
apt enough to stick. Furthermore, no matter how misleading, it must be
suggestive of sinister things.
"Governmentalism" is such a word. In its etymology it is harmless
enough. Governmental is the adjective of government, and means
"exercising the powers of government." Governmentalism, therefore,
means the exercise of the powers of government considered as a
principle. But the word when made the bogy of socialism is supposed to
mean the principle of the exercise of the powers of government raised
to the _nth_ degree, and separated from the people. It suggests a
shadowy somewhat of officialdom; a Corliss engine of functionaryism;
all of which is thought of as apart from the people, yet pressing upon
the people. In other words, the name "governmentalism," while intended
as a word of opprobrium for socialism, really indicates the amazing
misconception which the critics have of the nation itself, and of the
relation of the nation's life to its self-direction.
The nation is not an aggregate of the Smiths, and Joneses, and
Robinsons. It is a favorite formula with the opponents of the new
school that the nation is but a multitude of individuals. So is a
sand-heap. But in the nation the individual atoms are linked by mutual
obligations. They are members one of another. No individual can claim
isolation and independency. Let him make the most of his
individuality; yet, as Aristotle said, "Man is a political animal;"
his nature apart from the nation is incomplete; sundered from that to
which he belongs he seems a freak.
The nation, then, is not an artificial binding of units; it is a
natural relationship. The ideal nation is not entered as a result of
reflection and choice. A man is born into the nation as into the
family. To belong to the English nation when born an Englishman is not
usually considered so "greatly to his credit," except in the case of
Mr. Gilbert's naval hero. The very term "naturalize," with which we
denote the initiation of a foreigner, is a confession that the nation
is not a social contract but a natural relation. It is this natural
relation which makes the nation worth dying for; it is fatherland.
Still further, the nation is an organic being. The scattered atoms of
a sand-heap are as perfect as before they were dislodged; not so an
amputated arm. When the nation is disunited, the detached segment
becomes a different kind of body. "The man without a country" begins
to be another sort of man. The nation is not a mass of independent
individuals, but of related individuals, who, moreover, are so closely
related that they make together an indivisible organism; this organism
develops according to orderly laws; this organism has perpetuity,
never disjoining itself either from its past or future; and this
organism has also self-consciousness and moral personality. This is
the nation in which we live, and move, and have our being.
When we look this high conception of the nation squarely in the eye,
much of the talk about governmentalism seems at once irrelevant. For
government in America must ever mean the nation directing itself. Here
are no hereditary governing machines; no bureaucracies created by a
power apart from the people. In Europe, government is fastened on the
people. But in America, if government is not of the people, by the
people, and for the people, it is their own fault. The worst abuses of
power in a government actually emanating from the people, do not put
it beyond their reach. It is still the nation governing itself. It
will one day become conscious of its strength, and will direct its
efforts more wisely. But so long as it is the living, organic nation
governing itself, no mere multiplication of functions, no
straightforward increase of powers, are a discrowning of the people.
Socialists believe in the fearless extension of government because
they have a clear and high idea of the nation as an organic
relationship, apart from which the individual cannot realize himself.
As the nation becomes more self-conscious, it perceives more clearly
its own responsibility for the development of each individual. The
self-governing nation extends its governmental powers solely to give a
better chance for development to the largest number of individuals.
"All individualism," says Mr. Flower, "would be surrendered to that
mysterious thing called government." But there is nothing mysterious
in the expression the nation makes of its own will; and it is hard to
discover what individualism is surrendered, except bumptiousness, when
the rounded development of the greatest number of individuals is the
nation's motive for extending its governmental functions.
There is also another kind of reason for being undismayed at the
threat of governmentalism. Nationalism is but the very distant
consummation of local socialism.
I suppose it is not strange that the hostile critics occupy themselves
almost entirely with this keystone of the arch, since that has given
the name to the whole tendency. They delight to picture the superb
riot of corruption if nationalists could have their way at once. They
will never listen, they will never remember, while nationalists
declare they would not have their way at once if they could. A
catastrophe by which nationalistic socialism might be precipitated
would be a deplorable disaster to human progress.
Socialism properly begins with the municipality; or more properly
still, with the town-meeting. The Hon. Joseph Chamberlain is a
practical State socialist; and he outlines in the _North American
Review_ for May how English cities are laying the foundation of more
general socialism. The popular representative government of the
municipality, he says, "unlike the imperial legislature, is very near
to the poor, and can deal with details, and with special conditions.
It is subject to the criticism and direct control both of those who
find the money, and of those who are chiefly interested in its
expenditure. In England, at any rate," he continues, "it has been free
from the suspicion of personal corruption, and has always been able to
secure the services of the ablest and most disinterested members of
the community." The practical socialism of Birmingham, and other
cities of Great Britain, enthusiastically supported by multitudes of
citizens who do not call themselves socialists, is an example of the
first numbers on the socialistic programme. The intellectual leaders
of socialism are in no hurry. They have all the time there is. It may
take years to persuade American cities that they are business
corporations themselves, whose aim is the well-being of all the
members. The extension of municipal control over all natural
monopolies may be decades off. No matter; there is no use in being
hot-headed because hearts are hot at the miseries of the poor.
Municipalization ought to precede nationalization. The members of the
community must learn to trust each other before the East and the West
will trust one another. It must be proved in American cities, as it
has been already in English cities, that the extension of municipal
powers is itself a force to drive out corruption and purify politics,
before the nation as a whole will deem it safe to make great
enlargements of the civil service.
As that day approaches, it will be found that nationalism is a much
simpler thing than it now seems. Nationalism does not begin in a paper
constitution and work downwards. During the upheavals of the French
Revolution Abbè Siéges is always coming forward with a new
constitution. But in America institutions are rather an evolution. The
last numbers on the social programme may safely be left blank.
Nationalism is neither a city let down, of a sudden, four-square from
heaven, nor are its working plans yet to be found in any architect's
office on earth. We certainly want no nationalism which is not an
orderly development. We may agree with Mr. Spencer that the course of
political evolution is full of surprises. It is quite possible that
the nationalism which seems so full of menace as a military despotism
may turn out to be but a simple federation of industrial and
commercial interests which find they require a single head.
In other words, it seems to me, nationalism is only a prophecy. It is
too distant to be certainly detailed. Present day accounts of it will
one day be, as Horace Greeley said of something else, "mighty
interesting reading." We may be inspired by it as the end towards
which present movements are tending. But each age solves its own
problems; and the passage into that promised land is the issue for
another generation. A nearer view alone can determine where the
passage is, and whether the land is truly desirable. We may justly put
some faith in the common sense, as well as in the political ingenuity
of those who come after us. If military socialism, whatever it is,
should ever be the issue, this American people can be trusted to vote
against it if it is undesirable. Meantime, what our people must vote
upon in the present year of grace, is whether great private
corporations shall control legislatures and city councils, and charge
their own unquestioned prices for such public necessities of life as
light and transit. There is an issue between tyranny and liberty which
is to the point. The future is in the hands of evolution.
Another opprobrious epithet is "paternalism." This is the most
familiar of the titles of reproach. It suggests an idea of government
made pestiferous by old abuse. The most atrocious despotisms both of
king and church have planted themselves _in loco parentis_. The
welfare of the people has been the hoary excuse for the cruelest
outrages of history. Mr. Flower goes a step further and avers that,
with the good of the people for a pretext, tyranny has always been in
exact proportion to power and authority.
Without stopping to query as to this last rather sweeping statement,
it will be enough to check ourselves while the editor leaps to his
induction; namely, that because the monarchical and ecclesiastical
governments have tyrannized in proportion to their power, nothing less
is to be expected if our Republic becomes affected with a greater
sense of governmental responsibility for the welfare of her citizens.
If our nation, it is claimed, allows this specious excuse to commit it
to the doctrine of State interference, we are drifted into the
despotic paternalisms of the old world.
But a paternalism must have a parent, a royal sire, or a priestly
grandmother. In the antique paternalisms there is invariably this
parental personality at the top; down beneath it are the puppet
children. "My soldiers are my children," says Napoleon; and he orders
a charge for their benefit; an hour afterwards the dying address him
as Sire as he walks over the field. "The German people are my
children," says Emperor William; and he issues the edict for the
compulsory life-insurance of workingmen; an undoubted blessing. Both
are instances of paternalism; and the principle in one case is as
obnoxious as in the other. The principle of paternalism is an
irresponsible authority above the people, mastering the people, with
their welfare as a pretext.
But this essential of paternalism must be lacking in the republic.
Whatever powers democracy may assume, it recognizes no authority
outside itself. Democratic government, however socialistic it may
become, is nothing but democracy expressing its own will. If the
individual is led to surrender certain of his freedoms for the good of
all, he surrenders to a paternalism of all the people. That were
better called, once for all, a fraternalism.
It is not enough, however, to show that the title is in our case a
grave misnomer. The editor adduces several recent instances which he
considers exhibitions of the increasing tyranny of all the people. He
believes the tyranny of all the people, if they are as selfish as they
are now, would be more hopeless than the despotism of an individual;
for the single tyrant is after all amenable to revolution, while the
whole nation as a tyrant is accountable to nothing. To his view,
indeed, the occurrences I am about to repeat prove the new tyrant is
already created. They exhibit a "tyranny which shows that persecutions
are only limited by the power vested in the State."
Let us examine the data for this astonishing conclusion. My limits
will not allow more than a bare reference to the incidents which are
fully described in the May editorial.
Case I. is the incarceration in Tennessee of a Seventh-day Adventist
for working on Sunday. Of this it may be remarked that had it happened
two centuries ago it would have been symptomatic; to-day it is a
curiosity.
Case II. is the arrest of a Christian Scientist in Iowa for practising
contrary to the rules of the State. I presume this cannot be fairly
disposed of by suggesting that there has been some aggravated occasion
for such stringency. But it is certainly true that the State has the
right to prevent malpractice--a right none of us would wish renounced.
And as soon as there are sufficient data to convince an intelligent
public opinion that the theory, with its perilous repudiation of all
medical skill, is not fatal to human life, it will receive an
ungrudged status.
Case III. is the arrest of a minister, of pure life and unquestioned
standing, for sending obscene literature through the mail. The sole
charge was the publication of an earnest and chastely worded article
on marital purity; but the real cause was supposed to be his severe
criticism of the Society for the Prevention of Vice nearly a year
afterward. If these facts are verifiable this is a monstrous outrage.
But unhappily it is not the first instance where revenge has been
taken on the innocent by due process of law. Without doubt the people
ought to be more aroused by it than they are. Yet such a sporadic
instance of miscarried justice is scarcely a reason why the State
should cease its efforts to check by law the present alarming increase
of lascivious printing.
Case IV. is an election bill in California which prohibits independent
nominations except upon petition of five per cent. of the voters, and
thus disfranchises four per cent. of the voting population. If this
mad device proves anything, it proves that the leaders of the old
parties are in such consternation at the uneasiness of the people that
they have lost their heads. It proves no more than the denial of the
right of petition in Congress during anti-slavery days; and it proves
as much as that attempt to ignore the voice of reform. Earthquakes are
not far off when such things happen.
Case V. is the suit for damages which one Powell brings against
Pennsylvania. Under a statute authorizing the manufacture of
oleomargarine, he had undertaken the business, to find himself ruined
by a later legislature making its manufacture a misdemeanor. This is
very noteworthy, for it proves too much. It shows a vested money
interest controlling legislature and voting a rival business into
outlawry. This is a kind of instance socialists like to get hold of.
Yet these instances are used to illustrate "a growing spirit of
intolerance" in our country; they are said to exhibit a State tyranny
which is already blossoming under paternalistic legislation; they
emphasize, it is claimed, the fact,--"That all the majority wishes is
the sanction of law to make its crimes against the minority assume a
show of respectability. All that retards persecution is the limit of
the sanction of law; and I submit that, in the light of history, and
in the face of the wrongs of the present, all increase in governmental
power menaces the liberty, the happiness, and the growth of the
individual."
This is a pretty large indictment to hang on such debatable evidence.
Its audaciousness fairly takes one's breath away. Our heaviest battery
is turned against ourselves. Every cherished dream of the good time
coming goes up at a blast. Instead of freedom at last to do that for
which we are made, and to fit into the niche where we belong, we are
shown a State's-prison. Instead of an age of joy and of elastic step,
we are pointed to an iron rule of repression and cheerlessness.
Instead of leisure to ripen, of a full summing of our powers, of the
exhilaration of new truth, we have disclosed to us a stunted
individuality treading a dull and monotonous round of existence. And
all this, because if the people are trusted with more power they will
tyrannize life down to this paralyzing reaction.
The logic of this bold pessimism is:--Human nature is tyrannical; the
majority have always tyrannized in proportion to their power; increase
their power and they will increase their tyranny. This is the
syllogism which has dignified the foregoing collection of occurrences
into grave symptoms of an increase of popular despotism.
It might be fair to meet dogmatic pessimism with dogmatic optimism.
Or, it would be legitimate to follow the logic to its end in a general
abandoning of all the powers of government which, it seems, has only
hurt when it tried to help humanity; to go back honestly to Jefferson,
and beyond him, to
The very best government of all,
That which governs not at all.
This is the pandemonium of anarchy. Mr. Flower believes that there is
not enough of the golden rule in society to-day to make socialism
tolerable. But we have only to imagine our present society, with its
current quantity of golden rule, thrown into the chaos where
government has ceased to govern, where the political majority has lost
all its power, but where the majority of brute strength awakes to find
itself with no laws to molest or make it afraid.
But this doctrine of the inevitable despotism of the political
majority lies so at the bottom of the whole impeachment, that it ought
to be carefully examined in itself.
In the first place, both premises are without support. Human nature,
even in irresponsible multitudes, is not essentially tyrannical. Let
us admit frankly all the degraded sweeps of intolerance in the past;
yet has not human nature during recent generations been growing in the
tolerant spirit? Look straight at the intelligent society around us;
look within ourselves most of all, and let us ask if we see any such
intolerance of spirit as would bloom into tyranny if we only had the
chance. A man may prove to me by inductive data, reaching
uninterruptedly over ten thousand years, that my own nature is
intolerant; he may even corroborate his proof by pointing to my
occasional acts of thoughtless disregard for another's opinion, yet
all this array does not overwhelm me, for I know I am not intolerant.
Our society to-day, as a whole, knows it is not intolerant;--even
though it be proved as conclusively as ever Puritan divine proved
God's hatred for man, and man's incapacity for a single good act. The
logic works well; only there are some omitted factors. Human nature
has made some progress. Hospitality to new ideas, and patience with
divergent ones, are two of the surest fruits of later civilization.
Again, the majority have not always tyrannized in proportion to their
power. They did not, in the Dutch Republic, when William of Orange
followed the hideous persecutions of Phillip II. with the
establishment of religious liberty. The Church of England was in the
majority when it abandoned its acts of tyranny. Congregationalism was
still in the ascendancy when it ceased to banish Baptists and to whip
Quakers. The Rhode Island Baptists had plenty of majority when they
pioneered the empire of religious freedom in America. And the Maryland
Roman Catholics had things their own way, when in an age of
persecution they resolved to be hospitable to other beliefs. Indeed,
in our American life especially, the generosity and long-suffering of
majorities are among the most notable features. On the other hand it
may with truth be said that the worst tyrannies have been on the part
of minorities. In the old world the oppressive minorities have usually
been hereditary or ecclesiastical interests. In our country the ruling
minorities have been determined, and self-assertive classes who would
not brook the wisdom or the sense of justice of the majority. It was
the regnant minority which rushed the South into secession. It was
that same minority which had for half a century before over-ridden the
whole nation. It was the Tammany minority which ruled the Democracy.
It is the minority of syndicates, corporations, and vested interests
which crowned itself in our Billion Congress, and is spreading itself
in our legislatures. Are the very occurrences, of which so much has
been made exhibitions, of the tyranny of all the people; or, are they
not rather, with one exception, instances where a graceless minority
has resolved either slyly or boldly to ignore the people? In short,
the charge in the phrase "tyranny of the majority" has but the least
justification in the course of government. There has been in history
no power which has tyrannized less than the political majority. In
modern times, at least, the most violent acts of despotic outrage have
been the attempts to ride down the will of the political majority. "In
the light of history, and in the face of the wrongs of the present,"
to use the editor's words, it might be well to consider some means for
the protection of majorities.
For after all, in spite of the English sneers at government by count
of noses, from Carlyle and Sir Henry Maine to the latest utterances,
there is nothing so safe for humanity's interests as the political
majority. It is perfectly true that "the vanguard of human progress
must ever be in the minority." But the hope of this minority lies in
one day becoming the majority. As Disraeli said, that is the
minority's business. The minorities of hereditary privilege, of
priesthood, of monied classes, can perpetuate themselves and their
power. But the majority of voters is always changing and always losing
its power. The minority of radicals is always becoming the majority of
conservatives,--the steadfast power to which progress has tied itself.
Is socialism necessary to the progress of the race? Will not a
perfected fraternalism make the strong hand of socialism needless?
Both questions are to be answered, yes. The perfect state is
undoubtedly pictured in Rousseau's ideal, where every man remains
perfectly free, so that when he obeys the State he obeys only himself.
This is the deep and eternal truth of the law of brotherhood, which is
also the law of liberty. Love is the fulfilling of all law; no laws
will be needed when love is the protection of the weak. Belief in that
coming government of Love is the real religion.
But the practical politics of the present deal with a society where a
strong arm is needed to protect the weak from the tyranny of the
giants. To talk about the principles of brotherhood fully prevailing
in our present conditions, is to treat the laws of Christ with
flippancy. Nine-tenths of the maxims of our modern business system
contradict the law of love. In our present environment it is
impossible for business people or working people to obey the Sermon on
the Mount and not starve. Perhaps a few sacrifices of this kind are
needed to teach us how abhorrent the present selfish system is to the
Christianity of Christ. "I suppose I ought to be thankful to get the
work at all, for they told other women they had no work left for
them," said a woman to me who was making men's pantaloons for two
dollars a dozen. She was part of the system; she was competing with
other less fortunate women as truly as her employer with other firms;
she drank her tea at the expense of her less lucky sister, who had no
work and no tea. What chance does this system afford for perfect
fraternalism, or even for decent fraternalism, among those who have to
compete?
Socialism aims to produce an environment where not only the Golden
Rule but the Law of Love will have a living chance. As such an agent
it has its proper political place in the development of mankind.
REVOLUTIONARY MEASURES AND NEGLECTED CRIMES.