also a rebel. His spirit would rise in just indignation against the
iron regime of his country, and when a band of rebels, led by the
brave patriot, General Villacampa, under the banner of the Republican
ideal, made an onslaught on that regime, none was more ardent a
fighter than young Francisco Ferrer. The Republican ideal,--I hope
no one will confound it with the Republicanism of this country.
Whatever objection I, as an Anarchist, have to the Republicans of
Latin countries, I know they tower high above the corrupt and
reactionary party which, in America, is destroying every vestige of
liberty and justice. One has but to think of the Mazzinis, the
Garibaldis, the scores of others, to realize that their efforts were
directed, not merely towards the overthrow of despotism, but
particularly against the Catholic Church, which from its very
inception has been the enemy of all progress and liberalism.
In America it is just the reverse. Republicanism stands for vested
rights, for imperialism, for graft, for the annihilation of every
semblance of liberty. Its ideal is the oily, creepy respectability
of a McKinley, and the brutal arrogance of a Roosevelt.
The Spanish republican rebels were subdued. It takes more than one
brave effort to split the rock of ages, to cut off the head of that
hydra monster, the Catholic Church and the Spanish throne. Arrest,
persecution, and punishment followed the heroic attempt of the little
band. Those who could escape the bloodhounds had to flee for safety
to foreign shores. Francisco Ferrer was among the latter. He went
to France.
How his soul must have expanded in the new land! France, the cradle
of liberty, of ideas, of action. Paris, the ever young, intense
Paris, with her pulsating life, after the gloom of his own belated
country,--how she must have inspired him. What opportunities, what a
glorious chance for a young idealist.
Francisco Ferrer lost no time. Like one famished he threw himself
into the various liberal movements, met all kinds of people, learned,
absorbed, and grew. While there, he also saw in operation the Modern
School, which was to play such an important and fatal part in his
life.
The Modern School in France was founded long before Ferrer's time.
Its originator, though on a small scale, was that sweet spirit,
Louise Michel. Whether consciously or unconsciously, our own great
Louise felt long ago that the future belongs to the young generation;
that unless the young be rescued from that mind and soul destroying
institution, the bourgeois school, social evils will continue to
exist. Perhaps she thought, with Ibsen, that the atmosphere is
saturated with ghosts, that the adult man and woman have so many
superstitions to overcome. No sooner do they outgrow the deathlike
grip of one spook, lo! they find themselves in the thralldom of
ninety-nine other spooks. Thus but a few reach the mountain peak of
complete regeneration.
The child, however, has no traditions to overcome. Its mind is not
burdened with set ideas, its heart has not grown cold with class and
caste distinctions. The child is to the teacher what clay is to the
sculptor. Whether the world will receive a work of art or a wretched
imitation, depends to a large extent on the creative power of the
teacher.
Louise Michel was pre-eminently qualified to meet the child's soul
cravings. Was she not herself of a childlike nature, so sweet and
tender, unsophisticated and generous. The soul of Louise burned
always at white heat over every social injustice. She was invariably
in the front ranks whenever the people of Paris rebelled against some
wrong. And as she was made to suffer imprisonment for her great
devotion to the oppressed, the little school on Montmartre was soon
no more. But the seed was planted, and has since borne fruit in many
cities of France.
The most important venture of a Modern School was that of the great,
young old man, Paul Robin. Together with a few friends he
established a large school at Cempuis, a beautiful place near Paris.
Paul Robin aimed at a higher ideal than merely modern ideas in
education. He wanted to demonstrate by actual facts that the
bourgeois conception of heredity is but a mere pretext to exempt
society from its terrible crimes against the young. The contention
that the child must suffer for the sins of the fathers, that it must
continue in poverty and filth, that it must grow up a drunkard or
criminal, just because its parents left it no other legacy, was too
preposterous to the beautiful spirit of Paul Robin. He believed that
whatever part heredity may play, there are other factors equally
great, if not greater, that may and will eradicate or minimize the
so-called first cause. Proper economic and social environment, the
breath and freedom of nature, healthy exercise, love and sympathy,
and, above all, a deep understanding for the needs of the
child--these would destroy the cruel, unjust, and criminal stigma
imposed on the innocent young.
Paul Robin did not select his children; he did not go to the
so-called best parents: he took his material wherever he could find
it. From the street, the hovels, the orphan and foundling asylums,
the reformatories, from all those gray and hideous places where a
benevolent society hides its victims in order to pacify its guilty
conscience. He gathered all the dirty, filthy, shivering little
waifs his place would hold, and brought them to Cempuis. There,
surrounded by nature's own glory, free and unrestrained, well fed,
clean kept, deeply loved and understood, the little human plants
began to grow, to blossom, to develop beyond even the expectations of
their friend and teacher, Paul Robin.
The children grew and developed into self-reliant, liberty loving men
and women. What greater danger to the institutions that make the
poor in order to perpetuate the poor. Cempuis was closed by the
French government on the charge of co-education, which is prohibited
in France. However, Cempuis had been in operation long enough to
prove to all advanced educators its tremendous possibilities, and to
serve as an impetus for modern methods of education, that are slowly
but inevitably undermining the present system.
Cempuis was followed by a great number of other educational
attempts,--among them, by Madelaine Vernet, a gifted writer and poet,
author of L'AMOUR LIBRE, and Sebastian Faure, with his LA RUCHE,[1]
which I visited while in Paris, in 1907.
Several years ago Comrade Faure bought the land on which he built his
LA RUCHE. In a comparatively short time he succeeded in transforming
the former wild, uncultivated country into a blooming spot, having
all the appearance of a well kept farm. A large, square court,
enclosed by three buildings, and a broad path leading to the garden
and orchards, greet the eye of the visitor. The garden, kept as only
a Frenchman knows how, furnishes a large variety of vegetables for LA
RUCHE.
Sebastian Faure is of the opinion that if the child is subjected to
contradictory influences, its development suffers in consequence.
Only when the material needs, the hygiene of the home, and
intellectual environment are harmonious, can the child grow into a
healthy, free being.
Referring to his school, Sebastian Faure has this to say:
"I have taken twenty-four children of both sexes, mostly orphans, or
those whose parents are too poor to pay. They are clothed, housed,
and educated at my expense. Till their twelfth year they will
receive a sound, elementary education. Between the age of twelve and
fifteen--their studies still continuing--they are to be taught some
trade, in keeping with their individual disposition and abilities.
After that they are at liberty to leave LA RUCHE to begin life in the
outside world, with the assurance that they may at any time return to
LA RUCHE, where they will be received with open arms and welcomed as
parents do their beloved children. Then, if they wish to work at our
place, they may do so under the following conditions: One third of
the product to cover his or her expenses of maintenance, another
third to go towards the general fund set aside for accommodating new
children, and the last third to be devoted to the personal use of the
child, as he or she may see fit.
"The health of the children who are now in my care is perfect. Pure
air, nutritious food, physical exercise in the open, long walks,
observation of hygienic rules, the short and interesting method of
instruction, and, above all, our affectionate understanding and care
of the children, have produced admirable physical and mental results.
"It would be unjust to claim that our pupils have accomplished
wonders; yet, considering that they belong to the average, having had
no previous opportunities, the results are very gratifying indeed.
The most important thing they have acquired--a rare trait with
ordinary school children--is the love of study, the desire to know,
to be informed. They have learned a new method of work, one that
quickens the memory and stimulates the imagination. We make a
particular effort to awaken the child's interest in his surroundings,
to make him realize the importance of observation, investigation, and
reflection, so that when the children reach maturity, they would not
be deaf and blind to the things about them. Our children never
accept anything in blind faith, without inquiry as to why and
wherefore; nor do they feel satisfied until their questions are
thoroughly answered. Thus their minds are free from doubts and fear
resultant from incomplete or untruthful replies; it is the latter
which warp the growth of the child, and create a lack of confidence
in himself and those about him.
"It is surprising how frank and kind and affectionate our little ones
are to each other. The harmony between themselves and the adults at
LA RUCHE is highly encouraging. We should feel at fault if the
children were to fear or honor us merely because we are their elders.
We leave nothing undone to gain their confidence and love; that
accomplished, understanding will replace duty; confidence, fear; and
affection, severity.
"No one has yet fully realized the wealth of sympathy, kindness, and
generosity hidden in the soul of the child. The effort of every true
educator should be to unlock that treasure--to stimulate the child's
impulses, and call forth the best and noblest tendencies. What
greater reward can there be for one whose life-work is to watch over
the growth of the human plant, than to see its nature unfold its
petals, and to observe it develop into a true individuality. My
comrades at LA RUCHE look for no greater reward, and it is due to
them and their efforts, even more than to my own, that our human
garden promises to bear beautiful fruit."[2]
Regarding the subject of history and the prevailing old methods of
instruction, Sebastian Faure said:
"We explain to our children that true history is yet to be
written,--the story of those who have died, unknown, in the effort to
aid humanity to greater achievement."[3]
Francisco Ferrer could not escape this great wave of Modern School
attempts. He saw its possibilities, not merely in theoretic form,
but in their practical application to every-day needs. He must have
realized that Spain, more than any other country, stands in need of
just such schools, if it is ever to throw off the double yoke of
priest and soldier.
When we consider that the entire system of education in Spain is in
the hands of the Catholic Church, and when we further remember the
Catholic formula, "To inculcate Catholicism in the mind of the child
until it is nine years of age is to ruin it forever for any other
idea," we will understand the tremendous task of Ferrer in bringing
the new light to his people. Fate soon assisted him in realizing his
great dream.
Mlle. Meunier, a pupil of Francisco Ferrer, and a lady of wealth,
became interested in the Modern School project. When she died, she
left Ferrer some valuable property and twelve thousand francs yearly
income for the School.
It is said that mean souls can conceive of naught but mean ideas.
If so, the contemptible methods of the Catholic Church to blackguard
Ferrer's character, in order to justify her own black crime, can
readily be explained. Thus the lie was spread in American Catholic
papers, that Ferrer used his intimacy with Mlle. Meunier to get
possession of her money.
Personally, I hold that the intimacy, of whatever nature, between a
man and a woman, is their own affair, their sacred own. I would
therefore not lose a word in referring to the matter, if it were not
one of the many dastardly lies circulated about Ferrer. Of course,
those who know the purity of the Catholic clergy will understand the
insinuation. Have the Catholic priests ever looked upon woman as
anything but a sex commodity? The historical data regarding the
discoveries in the cloisters and monasteries will bear me out in
that. How, then, are they to understand the co-operation of a man
and a woman, except on a sex basis?
As a matter of fact, Mlle. Meunier was considerably Ferrer's senior.
Having spent her childhood and girlhood with a miserly father and a
submissive mother, she could easily appreciate the necessity of love
and joy in child life. She must have seen that Francisco Ferrer was
a teacher, not college, machine, or diploma-made, but one endowed
with genius for that calling.
Equipped with knowledge, with experience, and with the necessary
means; above all, imbued with the divine fire of his mission, our
Comrade came back to Spain, and there began his life's work. On the
ninth of September, 1901, the first Modern School was opened. It was
enthusiastically received by the people of Barcelona, who pledged
their support. In a short address at the opening of the School,
Ferrer submitted his program to his friends. He said: "I am not a
speaker, not a propagandist, not a fighter. I am a teacher; I love
children above everything. I think I understand them. I want my
contribution to the cause of liberty to be a young generation ready
to meet a new era."
He was cautioned by his friends to be careful in his opposition to
the Catholic Church. They knew to what lengths she would go to
dispose of an enemy. Ferrer, too, knew. But, like Brand, he
believed in all or nothing. He would not erect the Modern School on
the same old lie. He would be frank and honest and open with the
children.
Francisco Ferrer became a marked man. From the very first day of the
opening of the School, he was shadowed. The school building was
watched, his little home in Mangat was watched. He was followed
every step, even when he went to France or England to confer with his
colleagues. He was a marked man, and it was only a question of time
when the lurking enemy would tighten the noose.
It succeeded, almost, in 1906, when Ferrer was implicated in the
attempt on the life of Alfonso. The evidence exonerating him was too
strong even for the black crows;[4] they had to let him go--not for
good, however. They waited. Oh, they can wait, when they have set
themselves to trap a victim.
The moment came at last, during the anti-military uprising in Spain,
in July, 1909. One will have to search in vain the annals of
revolutionary history to find a more remarkable protest against
militarism. Having been soldier-ridden for centuries, the people of
Spain could stand the yoke no longer. They would refuse to
participate in useless slaughter. They saw no reason for aiding a
despotic government in subduing and oppressing a small people
fighting for their independence, as did the brave Riffs. No, they
would not bear arms against them.
For eighteen hundred years the Catholic Church has preached the
gospel of peace. Yet, when the people actually wanted to make this
gospel a living reality, she urged the authorities to force them to
bear arms. Thus the dynasty of Spain followed the murderous methods
of the Russian dynasty,--the people were forced to the battlefield.
Then, and not until then, was their power of endurance at an end.
Then, and not until then, did the workers of Spain turn against their
masters, against those who, like leeches, had drained their strength,
their very life-blood. Yes, they attacked the churches and the
priests, but if the latter had a thousand lives, they could not
possibly pay for the terrible outrages and crimes perpetrated upon
the Spanish people.
Francisco Ferrer was arrested on the first of September, 1909.
Until October first, his friends and comrades did not even know what
had become of him. On that day a letter was received by L'HUMANITE,
from which can be learned the whole mockery of the trial. And the
next day his companion, Soledad Villafranca, received the following
letter:
"No reason to worry; you know I am absolutely innocent. Today I am
particularly hopeful and joyous. It is the first time I can write to
you, and the first time since my arrest that I can bathe in the rays
of the sun, streaming generously through my cell window. You, too,
must be joyous."
How pathetic that Ferrer should have believed, as late as October
fourth, that he would not be condemned to death. Even more pathetic
that his friends and comrades should once more have made the blunder
in crediting the enemy with a sense of justice. Time and again they
had placed faith in the judicial powers, only to see their brothers
killed before their very eyes. They made no preparation to rescue
Ferrer, not even a protest of any extent; nothing. "Why, it is
impossible to condemn Ferrer; he is innocent." But everything is
possible with the Catholic Church. Is she not a practiced henchman,
whose trials of her enemies are the worst mockery of justice?
On October fourth Ferrer sent the following letter to L'HUMANITE:
The Prison Cell, Oct. 4, 1909.
My dear Friends--Notwithstanding most absolute innocence, the
prosecutor demands the death penalty, based on denunciations of
the police, representing me as the chief of the world's
Anarchists, directing the labor syndicates of France, and guilty
of conspiracies and insurrections everywhere, and declaring that
my voyages to London and Paris were undertaken with no other
object.
With such infamous lies they are trying to kill me.
The messenger is about to depart and I have not time for more.
All the evidence presented to the investigating judge by the
police is nothing but a tissue of lies and calumnious
insinuations. But no proofs against me, having done nothing at
all.
FERRER.
October thirteenth, 1909, Ferrer's heart, so brave, so staunch, so
loyal, was stilled. Poor fools! The last agonized throb of that
heart had barely died away when it began to beat a hundredfold in the
hearts of the civilized world, until it grew into terrific thunder,
hurling forth its malediction upon the instigators of the black
crime. Murderers of black garb and pious mien, to the bar of
justice!
Did Francisco Ferrer participate in the anti-military uprising?
According to the first indictment, which appeared in a Catholic paper
in Madrid, signed by the Bishop and all the prelates of Barcelona, he
was not even accused of participation. The indictment was to the
effect that Francisco Ferrer was guilty of having organized godless
schools, and having circulated godless literature. But in the
twentieth century men can not be burned merely for their godless
beliefs. Something else had to be devised; hence the charge of
instigating the uprising.
In no authentic source so far investigated could a single proof be
found to connect Ferrer with the uprising. But then, no proofs were
wanted, or accepted, by the authorities. There were seventy-two
witnesses, to be sure, but their testimony was taken on paper. They
never were confronted with Ferrer, or he with them.
Is it psychologically possible that Ferrer should have participated?
I do not believe it is, and here are my reasons. Francisco Ferrer
was not only a great teacher, but he was also undoubtedly a marvelous
organizer. In eight years, between 1901-1909, he had organized in
Spain one hundred and nine schools, besides inducing the liberal
element of his country to organize three hundred and eight other
schools. In connection with his own school work, Ferrer had equipped
a modern printing plant, organized a staff of translators, and spread
broadcast one hundred and fifty thousand copies of modern scientific
and sociologic works, not to forget the large quantity of rationalist
text books. Surely none but the most methodical and efficient
organizer could have accomplished such a feat.
On the other hand, it was absolutely proven that the anti-military
uprising was not at all organized; that it came as a surprise to the
people themselves, like a great many revolutionary waves on previous
occasions. The people of Barcelona, for instance, had the city in
their control for four days, and, according to the statement of
tourists, greater order and peace never prevailed. Of course, the
people were so little prepared that when the time came, they did not
know what to do. In this regard they were like the people of Paris
during the Commune of 1871. They, too, were unprepared. While they
were starving, they protected the warehouses, filled to the brim with
provisions. They placed sentinels to guard the Bank of France, where
the bourgeoisie kept the stolen money. The workers of Barcelona,
too, watched over the spoils of their masters.
How pathetic is the stupidity of the underdog; how terribly tragic!
But, then, have not his fetters been forged so deeply into his flesh,
that he would not, even if he could, break them? The awe of
authority, of law, of private property, hundredfold burned into his
soul,--how is he to throw it off unprepared, unexpectedly?
Can anyone assume for a moment that a man like Ferrer would affiliate
himself with such a spontaneous, unorganized effort? Would he not
have known that it would result in a defeat, a disastrous defeat for
the people? And is it not more likely that if he would have taken
part, he, the experienced ENTREPRENEUR, would have thoroughly
organized the attempt? If all other proofs were lacking, that one
factor would be sufficient to exonerate Francisco Ferrer. But there
are others equally convincing.
For the very date of the outbreak, July twenty-fifth, Ferrer had
called a conference of his teachers and members of the League of
Rational Education. It was to consider the autumn work, and
particularly the publication of Elisee Reclus' great book, L'HOMME ET
LA TERRE, and Peter Kropotkin's GREAT FRENCH REVOLUTION. Is it at
all likely, is it at all plausible that Ferrer, knowing of the
uprising, being a party to it, would in cold blood invite his friends
and colleagues to Barcelona for the day on which he realized their
lives would be endangered? Surely, only the criminal, vicious mind
of a Jesuit could credit such deliberate murder.
Francisco Ferrer had his life-work mapped out; he had everything to
lose and nothing to gain, except ruin and disaster, were he to lend
assistance to the outbreak. Not that he doubted the justice of the
people's wrath; but his work, his hope, his very nature was directed
toward another goal.
In vain are the frantic efforts of the Catholic Church, her lies,
falsehoods, calumnies. She stands condemned by the awakened human
conscience of having once more repeated the foul crimes of the past.
Francisco Ferrer is accused of teaching the children the most
blood-curdling ideas,--to hate God, for instance. Horrors!
Francisco Ferrer did not believe in the existence of a God. Why
teach the child to hate something which does not exist? Is it not
more likely that he took the children out into the open, that he
showed them the splendor of the sunset, the brilliancy of the starry
heavens, the awe-inspiring wonder of the mountains and seas; that he
explained to them in his simple, direct way the law of growth, of
development, of the interrelation of all life? In so doing he made
it forever impossible for the poisonous weeds of the Catholic Church
to take root in the child's mind.