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FRENCH AND GERMAN
SOCIALISM IN MODERN TIMES
BY
RICHARD T. ELY, PH.D., LL.D.
PROFESSOR OF POLITICAL ECONOMY AND DIRECTOR OF THE SCHOOL
OF ECONOMICS, POLITICAL SCIENCE, AND HISTORY
IN THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN
NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1900
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1883, by
HARPER & BROTHERS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
_All rights reserved._
PREFATORY NOTE.
The publication of this volume is due to the friendly counsel of the Hon.
Andrew D. White, president of Cornell University; a gentleman tireless
in his efforts to encourage young men, and alive to every opportunity to
speak fitting words of hope and cheer. Like many of the younger scholars
of our country, I am indebted to him more than I can say.
The present work is based on lectures delivered in Baltimore before
the students of the Johns Hopkins University, and in Ithaca before
the students of Cornell University. Although these lectures have been
thoroughly revised and, in fact, rewritten, traces of this origin will
be found in a certain freedom of style and matter, which will, I trust,
render the book neither less interesting nor less instructive.
My aim is to give a perfectly fair, impartial presentation of modern
communism and socialism in their two strongholds, France and Germany. I
believe that, in so doing, I am rendering a service to the friends of law
and order.
RICHARD T. ELY.
JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY, BALTIMORE, _August 3, 1883_.
CONTENTS.
Chapter Page
I. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND THE LABORING CLASSES 1
II. BABŒUF 29
III. CABET 39
IV. SAINT-SIMON 53
V. FOURIER 81
VI. LOUIS BLANC 108
VII. PROUDHON 124
VIII. SOCIALISM IN FRANCE SINCE PROUDHON 143
IX. RODBERTUS 156
X. KARL MARX 170
XI. THE INTERNATIONAL WORKINGMEN’S ASSOCIATION 183
XII. FERDINAND LASSALLE 189
XIII. THE IDEAL OF SOCIAL DEMOCRACY 204
XIV. SOCIAL DEMOCRACY SINCE THE DEATH OF LASSALLE 211
XV. SOCIALISM OF THE CHAIR 235
XVI. CHRISTIAN SOCIALISM 245
INDEX 263
FRENCH AND GERMAN SOCIALISM IN MODERN TIMES.
CHAPTER I.
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND THE LABORING CLASSES.
Communism and Socialism represent different and yet allied movements of
theory and practice. They aim to improve the common lot of humanity,
in particular that of the lower classes, in a radical manner and by
the application of thoroughgoing measures. Now, when we utter the
word improvement we indicate a desire to change, and consequently
dissatisfaction with the state which is to be changed. This brings us at
once to the common standing-ground of politico-economic reformers. They
are one and all dissatisfied with the present condition of society. We
have, therefore, in the first place, to examine the accusations which are
brought against the social _régime_ of our time.
Complaints against the methods of producing and distributing wealth are
not new; complaints of such a character as we hear at present, however,
have originated since the middle of the eighteenth century. Before the
French Revolution, dissatisfaction with the then existing order of things
had been expressed often enough, and had even led to rebellion; but the
economic life of Christendom was then different from what it is now, and
consequently the discontent and the proposed measures of reform were not
of the same nature. While the study of the condition of the laboring
classes in ancient times and the Middle Ages is highly profitable, it is
not necessary to go farther back than the latter part of the eighteenth
century to obtain a tolerably accurate notion of existing socialism and
communism.
A brief examination of the peculiarities of modern socialistic schemes
will make this plain. One of these is to be found in the developed
self-consciousness and awakened desires of the poor, taking their origin
in democratic institutions and increased enlightenment. Another is the
greater prominence given to capital in the present system of production.
Disputes concerning capital-profit and wages now lead to communistic and
socialistic schemes. “Such war-cries,” to use the words of Schäffle’s
“Socialism as Presented by Kaufmann,” “as we find Lassalle raising
against capital, would not have been even understood among the ancients
and the oppressed classes of the Middle Ages. The promises held out by
agitators to the masses now are: equal rights for all, no monopolies,
liberty and equality for the people. Liberalism itself has paved the
way to communism. The right of coalition among laborers for their own
interests, liberty of the press, the extension of the suffrage, together
with the facility of rapid and cheap inter-communication by post and
telegraph, afford laborers the means for united action where their
interests are at stake. The working-man of our day has a consciousness of
his own power quite unparalleled by any of his compeers in former ages.”
A third peculiarity of modern forms of communism and socialism is their
cosmopolitan and practical character. All the plans of reformers,
described in this work, were meant to be executed and to inaugurate a
new era in the development of humanity. Attempts have been made, or are
being made, to realize every one of them. Older socialistic schemes are
of two kinds. Those of the first class were applied only to sects or
small associations. Such were the communities of Buddhist and Christian
monks and the villages of the Essenes in Judea. Those of the second class
were dreamy and speculative. No attempt was made by their authors or any
group of immediate disciples to regenerate the world by substituting
them for existing social and economic organizations. Of this character
were the “Republic” of Plato and the “Utopia” of Sir Thomas More. Even
the speculations of French writers immediately preceding the Revolution,
like Mably, Morelly, Brissot de Warville, and Jean Jacques Rousseau,
were of this kind. Jean Brissot, for example, tickled the palates of
those craving literary and philosophical sensation by declaring private
property theft, and then defended private property in the National
Convention of 1792;[1] while Rousseau, only a few months after lamenting
that the first man who laid claim to property had not been instantly
denounced as the arch foe of the human race, speaks respectfully
in his “Political Economy” of property as the basis of the social
compact, whose first condition was that every one should be protected
in its enjoyment.[2] Morley says of him that he “never thought of the
subversion of society or its reorganization on a communistic basis,” and
that would hold generally of French socialistic thinkers before 1789.
Modern socialists and communists, on the other hand, not only think of
a reorganization of society, but work with might and main to accomplish
it. This at once draws a broad line between them. This difference finds
expression in new designations. A man without property is no longer
what he was previous to the French Revolution—viz., a poor man; he
is a proletarian, while the class to which he belongs are not called
collectively the poor, but the proletariat.
Previous to the French Revolution an attempt had been made to embrace all
the inhabitants of a state in some shape in a fixed and definite social
organism. There were the ruling classes, consisting of the nobility and
the clergy, and the commons. The latter were, to be sure, hewers of wood
and carriers of water for the two higher estates, but they were bound
to them in a certain manner. The feudal lord usually felt some sort of
concern for the welfare of his vassals, looked after their interests,
when these interests were attacked by others, and in a general way
afforded them protection to be found only in his wealth and power. The
greatest of the feudal lords, the sovereign, was the mighty father of
all, and his government was often a shield to the weak and helpless.
The third estate, the _bourgeoisie_—those who pursued trades and
commerce—were connected together, and with the rest of society, by guilds
and corporations. The arrangements of these institutions brought into
close personal contact master and laborers. Manufactures were conducted
in small shops, where the employer worked side by side with two or three
journeymen and apprentices, the latter living in the master’s house.
According to the rules of the guilds the apprentice became a journeyman
in a few years, and the journeyman rose in time to the rank of master.
Thus there were common experiences and common feelings to unite employers
and employed. They were not distinct and separate classes, with interests
sharply antagonistic to one another.
It is so unusual to hear one speak a good word for the institutions of
the Middle Ages, that I fear the reader will be tempted to exclaim, “Can
any good thing come out of Nazareth?” But that it may not be necessary
to take my _ipse dixit_ for believing that there was a favorable side
to feudalism, I will quote the testimony of Thorold Rogers, Professor
of Political Economy in the University of Oxford, and one of the most
distinguished economists of our time. “It is in vain to rejoice over the
aggregate of our prosperity,” says Professor Rogers, in his “History
of Agriculture and Prices,”[3] “and to forget that great part of the
nation has no share in its benefits. It may be that the wisdom of our
forefathers was accidental; it is certain that society was divided by
less sharp lines, and was held together by common ties in a far closer
manner, in the times which it has been my fortune to study [the Middle
Ages], than it is now. The feudal system of the Middle Ages was one of
mutual interests; its theory of property involved far more exacting
duties than modern rights ever acknowledge, or remember, or perhaps know.”
The war of La Vendée, in the French Revolution, gives striking
corroboration of this view of feudalism. In the western part of France,
particularly in Anjou, feudal institutions still retained their better
characteristics, while in other provinces large landed proprietors
intrusted their estates to agents, that they might lead idle and
dissipated lives in Paris. The landlords of La Vendée and the surrounding
country lived on their manors, and took a paternal interest in the
well-being of their peasants and dependents. The relations of Church
and people were those of protection and affection. The result was the
obstinate adherence of this part of France to the old order of things,
and the stubborn resistance of the peasants of Anjou and Poitou to the
revolution.[4]
Yes, it is true; much more can be said in favor of the social
organization of the Middle Ages than is commonly supposed. Nor were those
times so backward as many think. Cities like Nuremberg, in Germany, show
remains of the civilization of the Middle Ages which convince one that
a considerable grandeur had then been attained, and that the people of
those times were by no means in every respect inferior to us. But the
framework of this past civilization, not admitting of expansion, broke to
pieces. It was not large enough for the modern growth of population and
wealth. Its institutions were abused by those in power, and in a time of
general corruption and oppression they fell with a terrible crash. The
French Revolution swept them away forever. While this revolution formed
one of the grandest epochs in history, it left society in a singularly
disorganized state. No one appeared to be connected with his fellow-man.
Each one stood alone by himself. The individualistic and atomistic
condition of modern society had begun. In the reaction which followed
upon restraint this was thought to be an unmixed good. Each one was left
free to pursue his own interests in his own way. Commerce and industries
took a wonderful start, and by the aid of inventions and discoveries
expanded in such a rapid and all-embracing manner as to astound the
world. It is probable that as we, after more than two thousand years,
look back upon the time of Pericles with wonder and astonishment as an
epoch great in art and literature, posterity two thousand years hence
will regard our era as forming an admirable and unparalleled epoch in
the history of industrial invention. During this time of growth and
increasing wealth it was at first generally thought that everything was
moving along finely. The third estate had been emancipated. Its members
had no longer to bear alone the burdens of government. It betook itself
to trade and manufactures, grew wealthy, and became the _bourgeoisie_ of
modern political economy. But speedily a fourth estate was discovered,
whose members consisted of dependents—workers for daily wages. What had
been done for them? They had also nominal freedom, but did they enjoy
actual freedom? They were in possession of political equality, but had
they advanced one single step in the direction of social and economic
equality? There were not wanting those who went even further than to
answer both of these questions in the negative. They pointed to the fact
that the weak and needy had, as never before, lost all connection with
the strong and powerful. Hundreds of laborers crowded in a single shop
lost all personal feeling with their one employer. Formerly the distance
between journeyman and master was slight, and the passage from the one
condition to the other could invariably be effected by diligence and
ability. This change of condition now became absolutely impossible for
the greater number. The majority of those engaged in manufactures must,
in the nature of things, remain common laborers. A few, unusually gifted
or favored, might hope to rise, but even for them it became ever more
difficult to ascend the social ladder. On the one hand, the division of
labor was carried so far that the labor performed by each was exceedingly
simple. Instead of taxing the ingenuity, and thereby conducing to mental
development, the endless repetition and sameness of the labor tended to
make one stupid. On the other hand, inventions rendered it necessary not
only to employ an ever-increasing number of machines, but to make use of
those which were constantly becoming more expensive.[5] The gulf between
employer and employed widened unceasingly. The employer, losing personal
feeling with his laborers, too often forgot that they were men with
natures like his own. Frequently, it must be acknowledged, he looked upon
them as mere beasts of burden, and regarded their labor in the same light
as any other commodity which was sold in the market-place. They were
hired for the cheapest price, worked to the utmost limit of endurance,
and, when used-up, thrown aside like any other old and worthless machine.
The capitalist grew richer, and among the higher classes of society
luxury and extravagance increased. The laborer, noticing all this, asked
himself if his lot had in any respect improved. He was inclined to deny
that it had. His daily bread was not earned with less toil, nor was he
surer of an opportunity to work. His existence was as uncertain and as
full of anxiety as ever. Being brought together in large shops with those
in like condition, he talked over his wrongs and sufferings with them. A
class-feeling was developed. The heartlessness and assumed superiority
of those who had become suddenly, and often by mere chance, wealthy were
looked upon with frowns and gloomy countenances foreboding no good. The
harsh separation in material goods between these parvenus and the lower
classes was accompanied by no mitigating circumstances. In the case of
the old and wealthy families of a more ancient era the superiority in
wealth appeared more just, on account of lapse of time and a certain
superiority in intellect and manners. They were, to a considerable
extent, superior beings in other respects than mere externals. The new
rich looked down upon and despised the orders from which they had so
recently escaped, and were, in turn, hated by those beneath them. A
division of society into caste-like classes was taking place. The rich
were becoming richer; it was thought the poor were becoming poorer.
Free competition imposed no restraints upon the powerful. They were at
liberty to exploit the poor to their heart’s content. The strength on
the one side was so great, and the capability of resistance on the other
so insignificant, that there could exist no real freedom of contract.
As Sismondi said, the rich man labored to increase his capital, the
poor man to satisfy the cravings of his stomach. The one can wait,
the demands of the other are imperative. To the laborers their state
appeared like “a hell without escape and without end” (Mehring). They
were prepared to listen to those who should preach them a gospel of hope,
even if it involved violent change. Revolution _might_ help them; it
could not render their lot more hopeless. They were ready to examine more
critically the evils of society, when bidden to do so by their leaders.
Verily, they did not need to search long to discover many sore spots on
the social body. The luxurious immorality of the parvenus in European
capitals made no attempt to conceal itself. When the laborers were told
that their wives and daughters were considered rightful booty by the
wealthy, they remembered women of their class who had fallen a prey to
the fascination of wealth and the elegance of the higher classes, and
were angry. The peace of many of them had been ruthlessly destroyed by
some rich voluptuary. Perhaps a poor father, thinking of a fair daughter,
whose employer in shop or factory had taken advantage of his position and
her need to seduce her, gnashed his teeth in rage, and was ready to swear
eternal vengeance against the _bourgeoisie_.[6]
But these things were noticed by the more thoughtful among the higher
classes. They were bitterly disappointed. The doctrines of political and
economic liberalism had been expected to usher in the millennium, and
instead of that they beheld the same wretched, unhappy, sinful world,
which they thought they had left. If there had been progress in the
general condition of humanity, it was so slight that it was a matter of
dispute. Many, finding things in such a sad condition, one so different
from what they had expected, affirmed boldly that we had been going from
bad to worse.
In speaking of Lamennais, the distinguished French Christian socialist,
the Rev. Mr. Kaufmann, an English clergyman, describes the grief that
eminent man experienced, as he observed the economic development of
society after the great French Revolution:[7] “It was Lamennais’ fate
to see three revolutionary waves pass over his country, and to watch
with sorrow and bitterness of heart the disappointments to which they
gave rise. He had seen the sore distress of the people whose condition
the political changes of the first revolution left to all intents
and purposes unimproved. It had, in fact, given rise to new social
grievances. In destroying patriarchal relationships and feudal bonds of
social union, it had handed over the masses to the tender mercies of free
contract and competition. The introduction of machinery, with the rise
of modern industry, had a pauperizing effect, and intensified popular
discontent. Hence the various socialistic and communistic schemes for the
liberation of the working-classes from the ‘tyranny of capital,’ and the
attempts to promote the free association of labor by means of voluntary
co-operation following in the wake of revolution.
“Every section of society was represented in this revolt against the
excessive individualism of the _laissez-faire_ system as the result of
the new social contract. Among the saviours of society who rose rapidly
one after another—Saint-Simon, on the part of aristocratic _crétins_
impoverished by the revolution; Fourier, as the spokesman of the
aggrieved lower middle-class, in danger of being crushed by the superior
force of the plutocracy; Babœuf, representing the communistic materialism
of the ‘common people’—each in their own way had their theories of social
reconstruction; ... whilst a small band of generously minded churchmen,
with Lamennais at their head, made it their object to save society by
means of spiritual regeneration.”
A reaction against liberalism set in. This was of two kinds. A romantic
party, represented by Adam Müller, and a conservative party, represented
by the _Kreuzzeitung_, advocated a return to the social organization
of the Middle Ages. They dreamed of a golden age in the past, in which
humble simplicity and trustful dependence on the part of the laborer
were met by generous benevolence and protecting care on the part of the
master. They thought it possible to restore a time in which the Shepherd
of Salisbury Plain, happy and contented because a kind Providence had
granted him salt for his potatoes, filled an ideal position.
The communistic and socialistic parties, on the other hand, urged the
necessity of an advance to a totally new form of society. Very unlike in
many respects, in others these parties resemble and sympathize with each
other. The accusations which they bring against our present condition
of society are so similar that one often does not know whether one is
reading the production of a social democrat or of an ultra-conservative.
I will quote the indictment of the great socialist, Karl Marx, against
liberalism, which, it will be seen, might just as well have been written
by a conservative. In fact, if I had been shown the passage and told that
it appeared in the _Kreuzzeitung_, I should not have been in the least
surprised. “Although the liberals,” says Marx, “have not carried out
their principles in any land as yet completely, still, the attempts which
have been made are sufficient to prove the uselessness of their efforts.
They endeavored to free labor, but only succeeded in subjecting it more
completely under the yoke of capitalism; they aimed at setting at liberty
all labor powers, and only riveted the chains of misery which held them
bound; they wanted to release the bondman from the clod, and deprived
him of the soil on which he stood by buying up the land; they yearned
for a happy condition of society, and only created superfluity on one
hand and dire want on the other; they desired to secure for merit its own
honorable reward, and only made it the slave of wealth; they wanted to
abolish all monopolies, and placed in their stead the monster monopoly,
capital; they wanted to do away with all wars between nation and nation,
and kindled the flames of civil war; they wanted to get rid of the state,
and yet have multiplied its burdens; they wanted to make education the
common property of all, and made it the privilege of the rich; they
aimed at the greatest moral improvement of society, and only left it
in a state of rotten immorality; they wanted, to say all in a word,
unbounded liberty, and have produced the meanest servitude; they wanted
the reverse of all that which they actually obtained, and have thus given
a proof that liberalism in all its ramifications is nothing but a perfect
Utopia.”[8]
Before considering separately the different varieties of communism and
socialism it is necessary to say a few words about the proper method of
treating the subject. The movements indicated by the words communism and
socialism are designed to aid especially the lower classes. If mankind
generally were as happily situated as are what we call the middle and
higher classes, these systems would never have been heard of. The
members of the upper classes have nothing to hope from communism or
socialism, but have much which they might possibly lose—I say possibly,
because I wish to express it in the most favorable manner. If wealthy
and well-to-do writers and politicians oppose social reform they are
consequently often suspected of advocating their own selfish interests
exclusively. They are not likely, therefore, to have much success in
converting socialists and communists, unless they manifest in word and
deed their sincere concern for the welfare of their poorer brethren. I
think, therefore, that we ought to strive first of all to understand
thoroughly the various systems of social reformers, and then to describe
them in such manner that their supporters themselves could not find
fault with our representation. A kindly, well-disposed criticism might
follow, with hope of doing some good. To understand people, however, we
must have some sort of sympathy (σύν-παθος—_Mitleiden_) with them. We
shall not be likely to comprehend a social system, if we approach it
with coldness or, still worse, with hatred. The severe Protestant is
not likely to appreciate a Madonna of Raphael, unless he is able for
a time to forget his Protestantism and enter into the feelings of the
devout Roman Catholic. As Carlyle so finely says, “the heart lying dead,
the eye cannot see.” So, to obtain an adequate idea of socialism and of
the justice of its claims, we must imagine ourselves for the time being
laborers, with all their trials and sufferings. We must endeavor to think
ourselves into (_hineindenken_) their condition. Nor let us suppose that
there is anything to be feared from a disclosure of the full truth. It
is only from the opposite course that danger is to be apprehended. As
a distinguished American political economist has well said: “The time
has passed for dealing with the masses as children who are to be treated
to truth in quantities and on occasions suited to their welfare or the
interests of society. The political economist only abandons his ground of
vantage and forfeits the confidence of the community when he accepts any
responsibility for the use that may be made of the truth he discovers and
discloses.”[9]
Bearing this thought in mind, even a hasty examination of the vast
majority of books written on socialism and communism shows how utterly
worthless they are. Their authors start out with such intense hatred
of all socialistic systems, that it is simply impossible for them to
understand these systems. But the worst of it is, that they couple their
misunderstanding with such hard words and severe epithets as to excite
bad blood and drive the various classes of society farther apart than
ever. The wealthier classes lose their ardor for reform, and the poorer
people become enraged. As I write, I take up the first book on Communism
which lies at my hand, and, opening it, find communists spoken of as “a
hideous fraternity of conspirators.” I turn over a few pages and read
this: “To-day there is not in our language, nor in any language, a more
hateful word than communism.” Of a sentence uttered by a socialist, this
writer says “more pestilent words were never spoken.” On the next page
communism is spoken of as “infecting” the Russian universities. “Now,”
continues our author, “it poisons the blood and maddens the brains of
artisans and peasants.” Such words do more than excite the anger of
socialists. They arouse the indignation of every lover of fair play, and
convince no one. I take up another work and find that a very different
effect is produced on me as I read it. A kindly tone pervades it, which,
if it does not convince error, tends at least to obtain the good-will
of those whom it combats. This latter work to which I refer consists of
“Lectures on Social Questions,” and was written by the Rev. Dr. J. H.
Rylance, of St. Mark’s Church, New York, a large-hearted, fair-minded man.
Once for all, we must rid ourselves of the notion that we can persuade
people by misrepresenting them and calling them hard names. Such
conduct only reacts against ourselves. The folly of such a course has
been demonstrated often enough by the history of socialism. A striking
instance is given by Mehring in his “History of Social Democracy in
Germany” (pp. 96-98).[10] It appears that a large number of working-men’s
unions had formed an alliance (_Verband deutscher Arbeitervereine_),
of which the Party of Progress (_Fortschrittspartei_) had assumed the
leadership. This is a political party which was violently opposed to
Lassalle, and had considerable sympathy with the doctrines of the
Manchester school. When Lassalle began his agitation, the leaders of this
party misrepresented his doctrines in shameful manner. It hardly seems
as if their misrepresentation could have been otherwise than wilful.
They appeared to believe that the end justified the means in fighting so
odious an opponent, and that they were not required to treat him fairly
and honestly. Well, their programme worked brilliantly for a time. At
the meetings of these working-men’s unions members of the Party of
Progress used to explain the doctrines of Lassalle in such manner as
to place them in a false light, and then let the laborers reject his
plans by unanimous votes. Union after union voted against him, and in
the summer of 1863 these unions, at their annual meeting, professed the
principles of the Progressists, and selected a newspaper edited by a
member of that party as their organ. In 1864, at the general meeting of
the unions, some followers of Lassalle contradicted the misstatements of
the teachings of their master. This produced an effect, and Friedrich
A. Lange, who had been elected a member of one of the committees of
the alliance of the unions, warned the Progressists against the course
they were pursuing, and advocated the fairer, more honorable, and more
manly method of warfare. He told them that a reaction would surely set
in against themselves, when the laborers heard an adequate statement of
Lassalle’s plans, especially if they were presented in his own fiery,
eloquent words. But Lange’s earnest warnings were unheeded. The laborers
learned how to reply to a fictitious, non-existent Lassalle, but not to
the real, living one. Every annual meeting of the working-men’s unions
witnessed, accordingly, an approach to social democracy until 1869,
when it was accepted without reserve, and the alliance of working-men’s
unions was merged into the Social Democratic Working-men’s Party
(_Social-demokratische Arbeiterpartei_). As Mehring forcibly observes:
“It is, indeed, a singular misfortune, and manifests a rare lack of
tact, to lead to the enemy as welcome auxiliaries not merely single
recruits, but entire army corps” (p. 98). Thousands of laborers might
have been saved from social democracy if its opponents, in fighting it,
had adhered to the maxim, “Honesty is the best policy.” In fact, Mehring
attributes the success and popularity of Lassalle more to his enemies
than to his own brilliant talents. Falsehoods respecting his teachings
were uttered by his opponents without compunction of conscience, and
these, when exposed, only gave the laborers new confidence in Lasalle,
and less faith than ever in his enemies. Newspapers abused him personally
in such manner as to assist him in playing the _rôle_ of a martyr and
hero. They spoke of his unripe spirit and of his mental dependence upon a
tailor by the name of Weitling, at a time when the most renowned scholars
of Germany could not find words with which to express their almost
unbounded admiration for his learning and talent.
As I wish to represent communism and socialism fairly, I will at once
correct a few popular errors in regard to them.
First, then, it is supposed that advocates of these systems are poor,
worthless fellows, who adopt the arts of a demagogue for the promotion in
some way of their own interests, perhaps in order to gain a livelihood
by agitating laborers and preying upon them. It is thought that they
are moved by envy of the wealthier classes, and, themselves unwilling
to work, long for the products of diligence and ability. This view is
represented by the following well-known lines:
“What is a communist? One who hath yearnings
For equal division of unequal earnings;
Idler or bungler, or both, he is willing
To fork out his penny and pocket your shilling.”
This is certainly a false and unjust view. The leading communists and
socialists from the time of Plato up to the present have been, for the
most part, men of character, wealth, talent, and high social standing.
Of Plato it is unnecessary to speak, since people are not in the habit
of calling him a shallow demagogue. Sir Thomas More, the author of the
communistic romance “Utopia,” was lovable, learned, and socially honored.
Robert Owen, the English communist, was a wealthy manufacturer and a
distinguished philanthropist. Of Rodbertus, Marx, and Lassalle I shall
speak presently. If we examine the history of even those who are less
known among the German social democrats of to-day, we shall discover
that a great number have made sacrifices for their faith. Hunted about
and persecuted as they are, it is assuredly no light matter to proclaim
one’s self a social democrat. While, of course, among communists and
socialists, selfishness, meanness, and enough that is contemptible may be
found, I do not believe any movement of modern society is able to exhibit
a greater amount of unselfish devotion than that they represent.
A second charge against the communists consists in making them
responsible for the doings of the Parisian mob in 1871. The error of
this has been explained often enough. It is due largely to an accidental
resemblance between the words commune and communism. Many who use
the word commune glibly have a very imperfect understanding of its
significance, and little imagine that it is as harmless and innocent a
word as township, and means pretty much the same thing. The commune,
with an emphasis on the article, means simply Paris, or, in a secondary
sense, the administrative officers collectively governing Paris. France
is divided into departments and communes, the same as our states are
divided into counties and townships, and Paris by itself forms one of
these communes. The insurrection in Paris, of March 18, 1871, was one in
favor of extreme local self-government. The idea was to make each commune
at least as independent as one of the states of the United States, and to
unite all the communes into a confederation with limited powers.[11] The
movement in favor of the autonomy of Paris is an old one, and has been
supported by many able and respectable Frenchmen. One in favor of the
movement is, however, properly called a communalist, and not a communist,
and the movement itself is communalism—not communism. A careful study of
the decrees of the commune, of the reports and of the various histories
which have described its rebellion in 1871, shows that the movement was
political, primarily, and only to a very limited extent economic. Even
the economic decrees, like the stay-laws, postponing the time for payment
of debts due, might be regarded as war measures. However, out of the
seventy and more members of the communal government nine or ten were
social democrats and members of the International, and it is probable
that concessions may have been made to win them and their adherents.
They were effectual in this, since the Internationalists were disposed
to favor the movement from the start, and that for two reasons. First,
believing that their ends can be attained only by revolution, they are
inclined to look favorably upon any revolution whatever, as tending to
cultivate a revolutionary spirit in the people. Second, they favor the
autonomy of large cities, holding that the masses in the cities might
more readily be induced to adopt communistic and socialistic reforms, if
not held in check by the more conservative rural population.[12]
But let us ask ourselves this question: If all the members of the
communal government had been communists in the ordinary sense of the
word, would communism have been necessarily condemned? I think that
another question will help us to answer this. All the members of
that government were republicans: was republicanism then necessarily
condemned? No one but a rabid tory would think of giving an affirmative
answer to this second question. It is at once seen that the republican
form of government is not responsible for the conduct of every scoundrel
who professes republican principles.
It is urged further that communism and socialism would destroy religion
and the family institution. The reason of this complaint is evident
enough. A number of social reformers have been at the same time atheists
and advocates of free love. The questions of atheism and free love
are, however, totally different from that of even communism, the most
radical of all the reforms proposed. There is no necessary connection
whatever between them. If it could once be shown that communism were
practicable, it would be easy to give many reasons for supposing that in
such a society the love between man and wife and parents and children
would be freer from selfish and sordid motives than at present.[13]
The clergy are partly to blame for the irreligious attitude of many
modern socialists. They have too often made themselves the advocates
of conservatism simply as conservatism, regardless of all abuses which
it embraced. In countries where Church and State are connected, the
clergy have been too often a sort of police, assisting the government to
maintain existing institutions, and to oppose change, good or bad. They
have favored the higher classes, upon whom their support has depended,
and neglected the interests of the poor and down-trodden. I do not write
this as an enemy of the Church, but as her friend. Nor do I express
myself differently from the best of our clergymen at present. Rev. Dr.
Rylance, indeed, has, in his “Lectures on Social Questions,” clothed
this same thought in stronger language. In one place he says, “The proper
relations of Christianity to the legitimate efforts of socialism to
improve the condition of the suffering classes will never be understood,
or the minds of those now alienated from the religion of Christ will
never be disabused of their antipathy, till the essential claims of that
religion be set in fairer and fuller light; all the perversions it has
suffered being frankly acknowledged, and the wrongs done in its name,
as far as possible, atoned for. Your Church histories are full of such
perversions, while your most expert apologists cannot disguise the wrongs
... Ecclesiasticism[14] has often been a fraud and a tyranny in history.
As the Church grew in power and wealth, it allied itself to power and
wealth in the hands of civil rulers and their creatures, and the fruits
of the alliance have often been wicked and infamous.”
Dr. Rylance also declares that Christianity is a sort of socialism,
and quotes in proof these texts of Scripture, among others: “As every
man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another.”
“If ye fulfil the royal law, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,
ye do well; but if ye have respect to persons, ye commit sin.” “This
commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God, love his brother
also.”[15]
“One way of aspersing the doctrines of communism,” says another
writer,[16] “is to call them anti-Christian. It is forgotten that the
Christian idea of equality underlies all the reasonings of communism, and
communism has succeeded only in so far as it was Christian in principle,
having for its fundamental maxim brotherly love. In this, communism
is much more Christian than the hankering after privileges of the old
aristocracy, or the unbounded avarice of the plutocracy.”
There are other false accusations brought against communism and
socialism, which it is not necessary to examine now. A well-disposed
person will scarcely experience difficulty in separating them from
scientific argument.
It behooves us to disabuse our minds of all prejudice and ill-will. It is
_only_ thus that we shall be able to meet and overcome the social dangers
which threaten even our own country in a not very distant future. We
have never had a _permanent_ laboring class, but with the increase of
population one is rapidly developing. If it is _now_ becoming extremely
difficult for the laborer to rise, what will the condition of things
be when we number two hundred millions? And that time is not so far
off. At our present rate of increase, it will come when some of us are
still living. It is a laboring class without hope of improvement for
themselves or their children which will first test our institutions.
But he must be singularly blind or unacquainted with the views of the
various social classes who is unable to detect even now, in certain
quarters, the formation of habits and modes of thought characteristic of
the poorer classes in Europe. The fact of this growth was twice brought
home to me forcibly two winters ago. As I was walking by the Union
League Club-house, in New York city, at the time of its house-warming,
while the people were driving up in their fine carriages, one poor
fellow stood on the opposite side of the street watching the ladies
enter in their luxurious and extravagant toilets. He was a good-looking,
intelligent-appearing man, but wore no overcoat. It was a cold evening,
and he seemed to me to be shivering. He was evidently thinking of the
difference between his lot and that of the fashionable people he was
observing; and I heard him mutter bitterly to himself, “A revolution will
yet come and level that fine building to the ground.” A friend of mine,
about the same time, passed a couple of laborers as he was walking by
Mr. Vanderbilt’s new houses on Fifth Avenue. Some kind of bronze work, I
believe, was being carried in, and he heard one of them remark, savagely,
“The time will come when that will be melted by fire.”
More significant and more ominous still is the reception accorded in
this country to a man like John Most, who has been expelled from the
social-democratic party in Germany on account of his extreme views,
particularly respecting assassination as a means of progress. He has
been travelling about the United States, has been warmly received, and
listened to with favor by large bodies of workmen while uttering counsels
of war and bloodshed. On the 11th of February, 1883, he lectured in
Baltimore. It was a cold, rainy, cheerless day, and the sidewalks were
so covered with melting snow as to make it extremely unpleasant to
venture out of doors. But Most had a full hall of eager listeners. He
told the laborers that he had little hope of their overthrowing their
oppressors by the use of the ballot. He believed their emancipation
would be brought about by violence, as all great reforms in the past had
been. He consequently advised them to buy muskets. He said a musket was
a good thing to have. If it was not needed now, it could be placed in
the corner, and it occupied but little space. The presiding officer, in
closing the meeting, emphasized this part of Most’s address particularly.
He told the laborers that a piece of paper would never make them free,
that a musket was worth a hundred votes, and closed with the lines—
“Nur Pulver und Blei,
Die machen uns frei”—
“lead and powder alone can make us free.” There can be no doubt that a
considerable portion of his hearers sympathized with his views. They
listened approvingly, and applauded his fiercest remarks most loudly.
Nor is it without significance that in New York alone at least three
social democratic newspapers are published. Two of the three use the
German language; one of these is a weekly only; the other appears in a
daily, a weekly, and a special Sunday edition. The third paper is an
English weekly, but it announces the appearance of a daily edition in
the near future. The motto of one of these papers—Most’s _Freiheit_—is
“_Gegen die Tyrannen sind alle Mittel gesetzlich_”—“All measures
are legal against tyrants”—_i.e._, against our employers, against
capitalists, against all classes superior to the laboring class.
It is not, however, necessary to take a pessimistic view of our
prospects, for it rests with us to shape the future. If we, as a
people, become divided into two great hostile camps—those who possess
economic goods and those who do not—the one class devoted to luxury and
self-indulgence, the other given up to envy and bitterness—then, indeed,
dire evils are in store for us; but we have reason to hope better things.
The attitude of clergymen like Dr. Howard Crosby[17] and Dr. Rylance,
the generosity of our philanthropists, unparalleled in past history, and
the noble efforts of noble women to relieve every kind of suffering and
distress, lead us to trust that, as new evils arise, strength and wisdom
will be vouchsafed us to conquer them, and that among us the idea of the
brotherhood of man will ever become more and more a living reality.