CHAPTER XVI.

AN EXCUSE THAT CONDEMNED.

"I have read," said Edith, "that there never was a system of oppression

so bad that those who benefited by it did not recognize the moral sense

so far as to make some excuse for themselves. Was the old system of

property distribution, by which the few held the many in servitude

through fear of starvation, an exception to this rule? Surely the rich

could not have looked the poor in the face unless they had some excuse to

offer, some color of reason to give for the cruel contrast between their

conditions."

"Thanks for reminding us of that point," said the doctor. "As you say,

there never was a system so bad that it did not make an excuse for

itself. It would not be strictly fair to the old system to dismiss it

without considering the excuse made for it, although, on the other hand,

it would really be kinder not to mention it, for it was an excuse that,

far from excusing, furnished an additional ground of condemnation for the

system which it undertook to justify."

"What was the excuse?" asked Edith.

"It was the claim that, as a matter of justice, every one is entitled to

the effect of his qualities--that is to say, the result of his abilities,

the fruit of his efforts. The qualities, abilities, and efforts of

different persons being different, they would naturally acquire

advantages over others in wealth seeking as in other ways; but as this

was according to Nature, it was urged that it must be right, and nobody

had any business to complain, unless of the Creator.

"Now, in the first place, the theory that a person has a right in dealing

with his fellows to take advantage of his superior abilities is nothing

other than a slightly more roundabout expression of the doctrine that

might is right. It was precisely to prevent their doing this that the

policeman stood on the corner, the judge sat on the bench, and the

hangman drew his fees. The whole end and amount of civilization had

indeed been to substitute for the natural law of superior might an

artificial equality by force of statute, whereby, in disregard of their

natural differences, the weak and simple were made equal to the strong

and cunning by means of the collective force lent them.

"But while the nineteenth-century moralists denied as sharply as we do

men's right to take advantage of their superiorities in direct dealings

by physical force, they held that they might rightly do so when the

dealings were indirect and carried on through the medium of things. That

is to say, a man might not so much as jostle another while drinking a cup

of water lest he should spill it, but he might acquire the spring of

water on which the community solely depended and make the people pay a

dollar a drop for water or go without. Or if he filled up the spring so

as to deprive the population of water on any terms, he was held to be

acting within his right. He might not by force take away a bone from a

beggar's dog, but he might corner the grain supply of a nation and reduce

millions to starvation.

"If you touch a man's living you touch him, would seem to be about as

plain a truth as could be put in words; but our ancestors had not the

least difficulty in getting around it. 'Of course,' they said, 'you must

not touch the man; to lay a finger on him would be an assault punishable

by law. But his living is quite a different thing. That depends on bread,

meat, clothing, land, houses, and other material things, which you have

an unlimited right to appropriate and dispose of as you please without

the slightest regard to whether anything is left for the rest of the

world.'

"I think I scarcely need dwell on the entire lack of any moral

justification for the different rule which our ancestors followed in

determining what use you might rightly make of your superior powers in

dealing with your neighbor directly by physical force and indirectly by

economic duress. No one can have any more or other right to take away

another's living by superior economic skill or financial cunning than if

he used a club, simply because no one has any right to take advantage of

any one else or to deal with him otherwise than justly by any means

whatever. The end itself being immoral, the means employed could not

possibly make any difference. Moralists at a pinch used to argue that a

good end might justify bad means, but none, I think, went so far as to

claim that good means justified a bad end; yet this was precisely what

the defenders of the old property system did in fact claim when they

argued that it was right for a man to take away the living of others and

make them his servants, if only his triumph resulted from superior talent

or more diligent devotion to the acquisition of material things.

"But indeed the theory that the monopoly of wealth could be justified by

superior economic ability, even if morally sound, would not at all have

fitted the old property system, for of all conceivable plans for

distributing property, none could have more absolutely defied every

notion of desert based on economic effort. None could have been more

utterly wrong if it were true that wealth ought to be distributed

according to the ability and industry displayed by individuals."

"All this talk started with the discussion of Julian's fortune. Now tell

us, Julian, was your million dollars the result of your economic ability,

the fruit of your industry?"

"Of course not," I replied. "Every cent of it was inherited. As I have

often told you, I never lifted a finger in a useful way in my life."

"And were you the only person whose property came to him by descent

without effort of his own?"

"On the contrary, title by descent was the basis and backbone of the

whole property system. All land, except in the newest countries, together

with the bulk of the more stable kinds of property, was held by that

title."

"Precisely so. We hear what Julian says. While the moralists and the

clergy solemnly justified the inequalities of wealth and reproved the

discontent of the poor on the ground that those inequalities were

justified by natural differences in ability and diligence, they knew all

the time, and everybody knew who listened to them, that the foundation

principle of the whole property system was not ability, effort, or desert

of any kind whatever, but merely the accident of birth, than which no

possible claim could more completely mock at ethics."

"But, Julian," exclaimed Edith, "you must surely have had some way of

excusing yourself to your conscience for retaining in the presence of a

needy world such an excess of good things as you had!"

"I am afraid," I said, "that you can not easily imagine how callous was

the cuticle of the nineteenth-century conscience. There may have been

some of my class on the intellectual plane of little Jack Horner in

Mother Goose, who concluded he must be a good boy because he pulled out a

plum, but I did not at least belong to that grade. I never gave much

thought to the subject of my right to an abundance which I had done

nothing to earn in the midst of a starving world of toilers, but

occasionally, when I did think of it, I felt like craving pardon of the

beggar who asked alms for being in a position to give to him."

"It is impossible to get up any sort of a quarrel with Julian," said the

doctor; "but there were others of his class less rational. Cornered as to

their moral claim to their possessions, they fell back on that of their

ancestors. They argued that these ancestors, assuming them to have had a

right by merit to their possessions, had as an incident of that merit the

right to give them to others. Here, of course, they absolutely confused

the ideas of legal and moral right. The law might indeed give a person

power to transfer a legal title to property in any way that suited the

lawmakers, but the meritorious right to the property, resting as it did

on personal desert, could not in the nature of moral things be

transferred or ascribed to any one else. The cleverest lawyer would never

have pretended that he could draw up a document that would carry over the

smallest tittle of merit from one person to another, however close the

tie of blood.

"In ancient times it was customary to hold children responsible for the

debts of their fathers and sell them into slavery to make satisfaction.

The people of Julian's day found it unjust thus to inflict upon innocent

offspring the penalty of their ancestors' faults. But if these children

did not deserve the consequences of their ancestors' sloth, no more had

they any title to the product of their ancestors' industry. The

barbarians who insisted on both sorts of inheritance were more logical

than Julian's contemporaries, who, rejecting one sort of inheritance,

retained the other. Will it be said that at least the later theory of

inheritance was more humane, although one-sided? Upon that point you

should have been able to get the opinion of the disinherited masses who,

by reason of the monopolizing of the earth and its resources from

generation to generation by the possessors of inherited property, were

left no place to stand on and no way to live except by permission of the

inheriting class."

"Doctor," I said, "I have nothing to offer against all that. We who

inherited our wealth had no moral title to it, and that we knew as well

as everybody else did, although it was not considered polite to refer to

the fact in our presence. But if I am going to stand up here in the

pillory as a representative of the inheriting class, there are others who

ought to stand beside me. We were not the only ones who had no right to

our money. Are you not going to say anything about the money makers, the

rascals who raked together great fortunes in a few years by wholesale

fraud and extortion?"

"Pardon me, I was just coming to them," said the doctor. "You ladies must

remember," he continued, "that the rich, who in Julian's day possessed

nearly everything of value in every country, leaving the masses mere

scraps and crumbs, were of two sorts: those who had inherited their

wealth, and those who, as the saying was, had made it. We have seen how

far the inheriting class were justified in their holdings by the

principle which the nineteenth century asserted to be the excuse for

wealth--namely, that individuals were entitled to the fruit of their

labors. Let us next inquire how far the same principle justified the

possessions of these others whom Julian refers to, who claimed that they

had made their money themselves, and showed in proof lives absolutely

devoted from childhood to age without rest or respite to the piling up of

gains. Now, of course, labor in itself, however arduous, does not imply

moral desert. It may be a criminal activity. Let us see if these men who

claimed that they made their money had any better title to it than

Julian's class by the rule put forward as the excuse for unequal wealth,

that every one has a right to the product of his labor. The most complete

statement of the principle of the right of property, as based on economic

effort, which has come down to us, is this maxim: 'Every man is entitled

to his own product, his whole product, and nothing but his product.' Now,

this maxim had a double edge, a negative as well as a positive, and the

negative edge is very sharp. If everybody was entitled to his own

product, nobody else was entitled to any part of it, and if any one's

accumulation was found to contain any product not strictly his own, he

stood condemned as a thief by the law he had invoked. If in the great

fortunes of the stockjobbers, the railroad kings, the bankers, the great

landlords, and the other moneyed lords who boasted that they had begun

life with a shilling--if in these great fortunes of mushroom rapidity of

growth there was anything that was properly the product of the efforts of

any one but the owner, it was not his, and his possession of it condemned

him as a thief. If he would be justified, he must not be more careful to

obtain all that was his own product than to avoid taking anything that

was not his product. If he insisted upon the pound of flesh awarded him

by the letter of the law, he must stick to the letter, observing the

warning of Portia to Shylock:

Nor cut thou less nor more

But just a pound of flesh; if thou tak'st more

Or less than a just pound, be it so much

As makes light or heavy in the substance,

Or the division of the twentieth part

Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn

But in the estimation of a hair,

Thou diest, and thy goods are confiscate.

How many of the great fortunes heaped up by the self-made men of your

day, Julian, would have stood that test?"

"It is safe to say," I replied, "that there was not one of the lot whose

lawyer would not have advised him to do as Shylock did, and resign his

claim rather than try to push it at the risk of the penalty. Why, dear

me, there never would have been any possibility of making a great fortune

in a lifetime if the maker had confined himself to his own product. The

whole acknowledged art of wealth-making on a large scale consisted in

devices for getting possession of other people's product without too open

breach of the law. It was a current and a true saying of the times that

nobody could honestly acquire a million dollars. Everybody knew that it

was only by extortion, speculation, stock gambling, or some other form of

plunder under pretext of law that such a feat could be accomplished. You

yourselves can not condemn the human cormorants who piled up these heaps

of ill-gotten gains more bitterly than did the public opinion of their

own time. The execration and contempt of the community followed the great

money-getters to their graves, and with the best of reason. I have had

nothing to say in defense of my own class, who inherited our wealth, but

actually the people seemed to have more respect for us than for these

others who claimed to have made their money. For if we inheritors had

confessedly no moral right to the wealth we had done nothing to produce

or acquire, yet we had committed no positive wrong to obtain it."

"You see," said the doctor, "what a pity it would have been if we had

forgotten to compare the excuse offered by the nineteenth century for the

unequal distribution of wealth with the actual facts of that

distribution. Ethical standards advance from age to age, and it is not

always fair to judge the systems of one age by the moral standards of a

later one. But we have seen that the property system of the nineteenth

century would have gained nothing by way of a milder verdict by appealing

from the moral standards of the twentieth to those of the nineteenth

century. It was not necessary, in order to justify its condemnation, to

invoke the modern ethics of wealth which deduce the rights of property

from the rights of man. It was only necessary to apply to the

actual realities of the system the ethical plea put forth in its

defense--namely, that everybody was entitled to the fruit of his own

labor, and was not entitled to the fruit of anybody's else--to leave not

one stone upon another of the whole fabric."

"But was there, then, absolutely no class under your system," said

Edith's mother, "which even by the standards of your time could claim an

ethical as well as a legal title to their possessions?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, "we have been speaking of the rich. You may set it

down as a rule that the rich, the possessors of great wealth, had no

moral right to it as based upon desert, for either their fortunes

belonged to the class of inherited wealth, or else, when accumulated in a

lifetime, necessarily represented chiefly the product of others, more or

less forcibly or fraudulently obtained. There were, however, a great

number of modest competencies, which were recognized by public opinion as

being no more than a fair measure of the service rendered by their

possessors to the community. Below these there was the vast mass of

well-nigh wholly penniless toilers, the real people. Here there was

indeed abundance of ethical title to property, for these were the

producers of all; but beyond the shabby clothing they wore, they had

little or no property."

"It would seem," said Edith, "that, speaking generally, the class which

chiefly had the property had little or no right to it, even according to

the ideas of your day, while the masses which had the right had little or

no property."

"Substantially that was the case," I replied. "That is to say, if you

took the aggregate of property held by the merely legal title of

inheritance, and added to it all that had been obtained by means which

public opinion held to be speculative, extortionate, fraudulent, or

representing results in excess of services rendered, there would be

little property left, and certainly none at all in considerable amounts."

"From the preaching of the clergy in Julian's time," said the doctor,

"you would have thought the corner stone of Christianity was the right of

property, and the supreme crime was the wrongful appropriation of

property. But if stealing meant only taking that from another to which he

had a sound ethical title, it must have been one of the most difficult of

all crimes to commit for lack of the requisite material. When one took

away the possessions of the poor it was reasonably certain that he was

stealing, but then they had nothing to take away."

"The thing that seems to me the most utterly incredible about all this

terrible story," said Edith, "is that a system which was such a

disastrous failure in its effects on the general welfare, which, by

disinheriting the great mass of the people, had made them its bitter

foes, and which finally even people like Julian, who were its

beneficiaries, did not attempt to defend as having any ground of

fairness, could have maintained itself a day."

"No wonder it seems incomprehensible to you, as now, indeed, it seems to

me as I look back," I replied. "But you can not possibly imagine, as I

myself am fast losing the power to do, in my new environment, how

benumbing to the mind was the prestige belonging to the immemorial

antiquity of the property system as we knew it and of the rule of the

rich based on it. No other institution, no other fabric of power ever

known to man, could be compared with it as to duration. No different

economic order could really be said ever to have been known. There had

been changes and fashions in all other human institutions, but no radical

change in the system of property. The procession of political, social,

and religious systems, the royal, imperial, priestly, democratic epochs,

and all other great phases of human affairs, had been as passing cloud

shadows, mere fashions of a day, compared with the hoary antiquity of the

rule of the rich. Consider how profound and how widely ramified a root in

human prejudices such a system must have had, how overwhelming the

presumption must have been with the mass of minds against the possibility

of making an end of an order that had never been known to have a

beginning! What need for excuses or defenders had a system so deeply

based in usage and antiquity as this? It is not too much to say that to

the mass of mankind in my day the division of the race into rich and

poor, and the subjection of the latter to the former, seemed almost as

much a law of Nature as the succession of the seasons--something that

might not be agreeable, but was certainly unchangeable. And just here, I

can well understand, must have come the hardest as well as, necessarily,

the first task of the revolutionary leaders--that is, of overcoming the

enormous dead weight of immemorial inherited prejudice against the

possibility of getting rid of abuses which had lasted so long, and

opening people's eyes to the fact that the system of wealth distribution

was merely a human institution like others, and that if there is any

truth in human progress, the longer an institution had endured unchanged,

the more completely it was likely to have become out of joint with the

world's progress, and the more radical the change must be which, should

bring it into correspondence with other lines of social evolution."

"That is quite the modern view of the subject," said the doctor. "I shall

be understood in talking with a representative of the century which

invented poker if I say that when the revolutionists attacked the

fundamental justice of the old property system, its defenders were able

on account of its antiquity to meet them with a tremendous bluff--one

which it is no wonder should have been for a time almost paralyzing. But

behind the bluff there was absolutely nothing. The moment public opinion

could be nerved up to the point of calling it, the game was up. The

principle of inheritance, the backbone of the whole property system, at

the first challenge of serious criticism abandoned all ethical defense

and shriveled into a mere convention established by law, and as

rightfully to be disestablished by it in the name of anything fairer. As

for the buccaneers, the great money-getters, when the light was once

turned on their methods, the question was not so much of saving their

booty as their bacon.

"There is historically a marked difference," the doctor went on, "between

the decline and fall of the systems of royal and priestly power and the

passing of the rule of the rich. The former systems were rooted deeply in

sentiment and romance, and for ages after their overthrow retained a

strong hold on the hearts and imaginations of men. Our generous race has

remembered without rancor all the oppressions it has endured save only

the rule of the rich. The dominion of the money power had always been

devoid of moral basis or dignity, and from the moment its material

supports were destroyed, it not only perished, but seemed to sink away at

once into a state of putrescence that made the world hurry to bury it

forever out of sight and memory."

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