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CAPITAL AND LABOUR;
THEIR
RIGHTS AND DUTIES:
A ^RETROSPECT
OF THE
TAILORS’ LABOUR AGENCY
^jonUnir:
WILLIAM FREEMAN, 102, FLEET STREET.
1861.
�T. e* vr? »VP CO., Iirst-XTSK ASB GSSEXKL PSSTSSSj,
�[CAPITAL AND LABOUR;
THEIli
RIGHTS AND DUTIES.
Ten years’ experience, and the signal success of the “Tailors’
Labour Agency,” may j ustify a few words of self-gratulation, and
warrant a simple statement of past achievement and future
expectancy. To look back upon the hindrances which have
obstructed us, the encouragements which have cheered us, and the
accomplishment of many of our purposes, will be a retrospect not
unpleasing to ourselves, and may have something of profit in it
for others. We would like to speak with diffidence on a subject
on which there is not entire unanimity of opinion, and while we
admit that in carrying out our views we may not always have
done the fitting thing at the fittest time, yet we are confident
that our purpose has been a good and a righteous one, and we
still cling to it hopefully and unflinchingly, thankful for the
(measure of success which has attended our efforts, and in no
degree dismayed by thajloubts and scepticism of well-tried friends,
or the ill-disguised hostility of mistaken opponents.
It were well, perhaps, that working men generally were better
acquainted with the science of political economy, a science which
has, in the main, established itself on principles of commercial
and social soundness; though some of its expounders have driven
their dogmas so hard and heartlessly, that many have been justi
fied in their aversion to the investigating those principles upon
which much of their welfare depends. Money, and how to get
it, has become of far greater importance than labour and how to
live by it; and while the working classes deem themselves
excluded from the sentiments and sympathies which make life
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cheerful and useful, the opinion is entertained by many that it is
the interest and desire of the high and the wealthy to oppress
the poor and the lowly; that position, power, and influence are
^associated only with the possession of money—that it is the
■destiny of the worker to work on for the enrichment of those
that employ him—and that while capital is increasing in the
hands of a few, and one class advancing in opulence and
living in luxury, there is another and far larger class whose labour
•can barely find them subsistencej who are living continually
•on the verge of pauperism, into which they drift at last,
leaving the like hopeless toil and cheerless prospects as the
“heritage of woe” which the working man bequeaths to his
'children.
This view of the matter is rather gloomy, and is certainly to
some extent erroneous, but any one who has mixed considerably
with our working population, our average working men, neither
those who are leading vicious lives, nor those whose vocation is
dubious and uncertain, must be aware of much in their condition
that is unsatisfactory, and even perilous. With all our national
greatness, our freedom of commerce, our vast achievements in
science, and the growing intelligence among all classes, it surely
■cannot be that the claims of society, the progress of business, or
•even the spirit of competition itself requires that our millions of
workers, who are the right arm of our strength, and our bulwark
-of defence, should be crushed in their struggle for bread; that the
body should be exhausted by daily toil till the mind become
paralysed, and the moral nature be overborne by physical wants
and necessities, rendering the higher aims, enjoyments, and even
duties of life a bitter mockery, and a stern impossibility. If
this be the fate of labour—if there are laws inexorable in their
■demand, and unyielding in their requirements, which assert this
•condition to be inevitable—then is the fate a hard one indeed.
But we do not believe it
There are some men whom much political economy has made
’unreasonable and unfeeling, who would not deny that in many
•trades the workmen may be inadequately remunerated, and in
■some scarcely remunerated at all, but they would leave all that
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alone. ’’These things, they think, will ultimately adjust themselves by some laws of their own, and any meddlesome inter
ference with their operation they earnestly deprecate. Such mem
opposed any interference with the employment of children of'
tender years in factories, and of women in coal mines, and they
would rather support the working man from the poor-rates, as a.
pauper, than countenance any effort by which the wages of'
labour might bejkept above starvation point. They cannot deny
the right of the working class to combine to fix the price of their
labour, but according to them this is never done at the right
time, nor in the right way; and if hostilities are provoked between
Lcapital and labour, capital generally contrives, by calling to its
aid some extreme maxims in political economy, to get the best
in the conflict.
This has come to be considered by a large class of operatives
as more owing to the power of the moneyed interest than
to any inherent justness of the cause in the question at issue,,
and antagonisms have thereby been provoked and embittered
to the manifest detriment of both parties in the conflict.
But, after all that can be said, money has a power—will always,
have a power—as the representative of accumulated savings, and
the engine by which commercial enterprise is set in motion, and
labour made productive; and working men would have long er©
now seen their true interests in relation to capital, but for the
selfishness of a certain class of employers who look upon
their workmen only as the means of money-getting for them
selves, who think that to be rich is the best thing, and Ke next,
best thing to appear to be rich; whose political faith is that
“ Poverty is disgraceful, and hard cash covers a multitude of
sins,”—whose regard for the workers is dictated by the same
consideration which makes them oil then machinery—who view
them only physically and socially, and overlook those moral
relations which are the bond of a common humanity, and the only
means by which a people may become happy and virtuous. We
are no unqualified adinirers of Trades’ Unions, on the principles
by which they have hitherto been conducted; and speaking as
working men ourselves—whom, perhaps, fortunate circumstances*
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and somewhat of an aptitude for business have raised a shade
above the merest operative—we deplore the errors into which
they have led those connected with them, and the deep suffer
ing which their unwise counsels have often produced; but we do
say that it will be a happy day for this country when the millions
of those who sweat and toil, shall have intelligence and union
enough among themselves, to combine for securing the same con
sideration for their labour, as the capitalist can secure for his
money; and by prudent, well-regulated lives, promote those
measures of social progress, which shall give them a power in the
■commonwealth to which they have never yet attained.
These views are not mere sentimentalities. Some of the
sternest of political economists have put forth opinions to the
same effect. Adam Smith, in his Wealth of Nations, asks :—
“ Is an improvement in the circumstances of the lower ranks of
the people to be regarded as an advantage, or as an inconveniency to society?” “The answer,” he continues, “seems
at first abundantly plain. Servants, labourers, and workmen of
different kinds, make up by far the greater part of every great
political society. But what improves the circumstances of the
greater part can never be regarded as any inconveniency to the
whole. No society can surely be flourishing and happy of which
the far greater part of the members are poor and miserable. It
is but equity, besides, that they who feed, clothe, and lodge the
whole body of the people, should have such a share of the
produce of their own labour as to be themselves tolerably well
fed, clothed, and lodged.”
Mr. M’Culloch, in his Principles of Political Economy, says:—
“ The best interests of society require that the rate of wages
should be elevated as high as possible; that a taste for the
comforts, luxuries, and enjoyments of human life should be
widely diffused, and, if possible, interwoven with national
habits and prejudices. Very low wages, by rendering it im
possible for any increased exertions to obtain any consider
able increase of comforts and enjoyments, effectually hinders
them from being made, and is, of all others, the most powerful
cause of that idleness and apathy that contents itself with what
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•can barely continue animal existence.” Again, in his Principles
of Population he has this remark :—“ I really cannot conceive
•anything much more detestable than the idea of knowingly con
demning the labourers of Great Britain to rags and wretched
ness, for the purpose of selling a few more broadcloths and
■calicos.”
Dr. Wade, too, in Iris History of the Middle and Working
Classes, says:—I am .a great admirer of political economy,
but do not implicitly adopt all its dogmas. National happi
ness is more important than national wTealth very unequally
■apportioned. Repudiating witlheontempt the idea that the rich
are in a conspiracy against the poor, and that they do not ■wish
to improve their condition; still, I think, that in all fiscal and
•domestic measures the maxim should be acted upon, that it is
'better a hundred persons live comfortably than one luxuriantly. High wages are, therefore, more important than high
profits •, it is better—should they ever be at issue—the people
•should be happy than foreign trade prosperous. It is less an
evil that the minority should undergo a privation of the luxuries,
<than the majority of the necessaries of life.”
With respect to the feeling which ought to obtain between
employers and the employed, a writer in a late number of the
Quarterly Review has the following :—il Employers ought not
to stand too strongly upon their rights, nor entrench themselves
too exclusively within the circle of their own. order. Frankness
and cordiality will win working men’s hearts, and a ready
explanation will often remove misgivings and dissatisfaction.
Were there more trust, and greater sympathy between classes,
there would be less disposition to turn out on the part of men,
and a more accommodating spirit on the part of masters.”
And so, in organising and conducting the “ Tailors’ Labour
Agency,” it has not been our aim to propound any new scheme
of a societary or communistic kind, or any involved or abstruse
doctrines; but, believing that practice was more at fault than
principle, we have sought to deal with old facts and sub
sisting relations, and taking the ordinary intercourse and arrange
ments between the employer and the employed, endeavouring
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to rear o-ut of that, a scheme of co-operation which should
enhance the interests of the workmen, while it promoted the
success of the business which gave them employment. For it
is certain, that even in tailoring, depreciated and maligned
though it be, there is as much scope for excellence in taste and
skill, as in occupations of a more artistic kind; and were a body
of workmen got together, stimulated and encouraged by an em
ployer, bound to him by some tie more enduring than the precarious one of here to-day and away to-morrow, were they
sufficiently educated in mind and eye, and fully alive to the.
importance of earning and sustaining a reputation for superior
workmanship, why, a business, steady, certain, and amply remu
nerative, would reward their application and industry, realise
for them what the life of a competent honest artisan ought
to be, and surround them with manifold comforts and enjoy-J
ments to which a large number of working men are too often
strangers.
Fair wages for the worker we therefore hold to be of the
first importance, necessary as a matter of policy and justice,
demanded by the rights of labour, and enforced by the duties of
capital. There may be some law of supply and demand which-,
would appear to take it out of the category of ordinary obliga
tions, but justice and fair dealing are amenable to a higher law,,
and will not be set aside by arithmetical figures, or mathematical,
definitions. The supposed existence of a law in our social
economics, by which every relation in life is defined with
mathematical precision, has a tendency to destroy that sympathy
and kindliness of feeling, which should be for the interest of all
classes, and produce a cold and hard exaction on the part of
those, who, making haste to be rich, seek to increase their
profits out of the wages which labour ought to receive. The
man of contracted and ungenerous nature, who is dead to the
sympathies of his kind, and has never been raised above himself'
by one wave of impassioned feeling, seizes with avidity upon an
argument, or seeming argument, by which his selfishness may
be dignified with the name of prudence, shrewdness, or common
sense ; in this mood of self-complacency he is regardless and
�9
Indifferent about the misery, the want, and wretchedness, the
debasement which under-paid labour produces among the
numerous class of workers whose interests and well-being are
vitally important to the community.
It is reported that a member of a tailoring firm in this metro
polis has lately purchased, a landed estate at a cost of nearly
■£30,000. For making a coat, known by the name of “ Oxonian,”
that firm pays its workmen six shillings. The time required for
making such a garment, is about two days, and the price paid for
making it by most other houses in the trade is ten shillings. Now,
would not a portion of that £30,000 distributed among the workmen in increased wages, and expended by them on bread and meat,
On better clothing, better house accommodation, and more suitable
furniture, on the education of their children, and surrounding
them with happier, healthier influences, have been a greater social
benefit than one man rising to speedy affluence, and becoming
the ancestor of a landed proprietary ? It is, no doubt, necessary
that wealth should be accumulated, and very necessary that
there should be security for retaining it when it has been
Btauired; but surely it is more worthy, more noble, more honest
to be content with small gains, that labour may have its
Equivalent, that the working man may stand erect with a sense
of manhood and self-respect about him, than by taking advantage
of a supposed redundancy in the population, and pitting the
labour of one man against another, seek to extract from that
labour the means of sudden wealth, while those who produce
it are compelled to feel that increasing labour and decreasing
pay are a condition of slavery, most real and degrading.
It is a question for politicians how far the franchise may be ex
tended to the working classes ; but it is miserable trifling, and
Something more, for those to whom capital has given a power over
labour, and who use that power solely for tffigir own aggrandisement, to contend that working men cannot be the safe custodians
of power, and ought not to be entrusted with it. The working
classes, no doubt, have their vices, many of them arising from
want of sympathy and encouragement in the numerous
■difficulties that beset them, but we question if they are worse
�10
than the extreme selfishness manifested by many of their
employers, which has separated interests which ought to have
been in harmony with each other, creating and fostering asper
ities which have occasionally threatened to disturb the peace
of society, and have been at all times the source of much angry
feeling. There is nothing in the relation which ought to.
subsist between the employer and the employed that implies a
right on the one side to domineer, or a duty on the other to be
over-obsequious, and it is certain that a kindly consideration and
regard on the part of the one would produce a respectful attach
ment on the part of the other, and make the situation of both
much more agreeable.
At all events, it would appear that some such principles^
sincerely entertained, and honestly avowed, are in unison with
the feelings and sympathies of many thoughtful and reflecting
men, as evinced by the magnitude of our business, (Appendix A,)
and the increasing power and influence, which, in various ways, it
has been able to put forth; and this second report of our proceed
ings is issued in answer to inquiries which reach us from many
quarters, and which we hope will remove some misapprehension,,
and impart some information as to the exact position we have
taken up.
The origin and conduct of “ The Tailors’ Labour Agency ”
does not rest upon the purely benevolent or philanthropic
idea; we might rather describe it as the result of a mind
speculative and theoretical, flitting about somewhat vagrantlyand restlessly in quest of a social system free from the extremes
of affluence and indigence, which make such a wide gulph
in the present aspect of society, and then in utter disappoint
ment settling down upon the old system, and in the sphere
which seemed to open itself up to us, resolved that the men whose
labour we had to purchase, should, by a commingling of interests,
a gentle compulsion, and a genial intercourse, be helped to wipe
away the reproach that their order is more indifferent to the
duties of life, and less capable of discharging them, than those
in other classes of society. “ The Tailors’ Labour Agency,” then,
is simply a proprietary establishment, conducted like any other-
�11
"business for the benefit of its promoter, but recognising in
various ways the duties which capital owes to labour, and com
bining several projects, which, while seeking our own interest,
may conduce also to the interests of those with whom we are
associated. Let us state these a little in detail:—
1st—The system of employment, and its remuneration.
2nd.—Means for the intellectual improvement of the workmen.
• 3rd.—Provision for the education of their children.
THE SYSTEM OF EMPLOYMENT, AND ITS REMUNERATION.
The condition of the working tailor has been for some years
greatly deteriorating. Various reasons have been assigned for
this decadence. Some have traced it to the strike of 1834, which
disorganised the trade societies, and introduced a number of
women into the employment; others have attributed it to the
excessive competition in the show shops, the “sweating” system,
or the employment of middlemen, and the consequent giving out
of the work to be done upon the premises of the workmen.
These have undoubtedly been great evils. With the sweater,
and those who work under him, one cannot associate the idea of
respectability, comfort, decency, or any of the homely virtues
which are the stamina of domestic felicity. This home-working,
in its worst iorm, has got the name of “sweating,” because a
scheming and unscrupulous middleman interposes between the
employer and his workmen, and, by means, more iniquitous than
any truck system, contrives to get the most of their earnings
into his own pocket. He feeds and lodges them, after a sort,
and the miserable abode in which they work, and sleep, and eat,
is redolent of odours neither pleasant nor wholesome ; it is in
truth, a cheerless, hopeless, miserable life, alternating between
excessive working and excessive drinking, a life physically
debilitating, and morally debasing, and folk which, what
ever he may think of it, the employer who perpetuates it is
morally responsible.
Several years ago, the iniquities of the practice were ex
posed in the columns of the Morning Chronicle; and sub
sequently Mr. Kingsley, in his “Alton Locke” drew a fearful
�12
picture of a “sweaters’ den,” somewhat over coloured, per
haps, but in the main, painfully true; and yet the evil will
continue while it saves money to the employers, and while
gentlemen, inconsiderate and unthinking about the matter, are
content to have their garments made up under circumstances
which, could they but sec them in the process of manufacture,
they'would recoil from wearing.
We determined, as far as we were concerned, to lay the axe*
to the root of this great evil, and to restore the workman’s home
to that comfort which the undivided attention of a tidy house
wife seldom fails to give it. We have, therefore, our workshops
on our own premises, built with all the requisites for convenience,
cleanliness and healthfulness, which the most eminent skill could
suggest, and our men come to work and return to their homes
with the same regularity that artisans in other trades do, or that
is done by men holding situations in mercantile or trading houses ;
nor can we refrain from saying that, as a body, -whether as regards
character, conduct, or respectability of appearance, they are a
sample of the honest, intelligent working-class of this country,
of which any employer might feel proud (Appendix B).
Why, then, is the pernicious system of home working continued ?
Well, you see a workshop is rather an expensive affair. Besides the
cost of erection, the implements of trade, and the usual wear and
tear, there is a considerable item for certain sewing trimmings,
which the employer who gives his work out, generally makes
the men find for themselves ; and besides, if a man is at work on
your premises, it is necessary that at the end of the week, when
you put his wages in his hand, they should be in some measure
adequate to the support of himself and family; and hence, in
the case of home working, in its least objectionable form, where
a man takes out only as much work as he can execute himself,
the scanty earnings of the man have to be supplemented by the
aid of wife and children, to the manifest neglect of other duties,
which are not so claimant perhaps as the bread and butter
question, but which are very important nevertheless. In fact,
it does seem socially to be of great importance, that a working
man’s employment should take him out into the world, to undergo
�13
a discipline by conflict and contact with others, which very
discipline makes all the more a man of him, and to find the
home a retreat and relaxation from the turmoil and cares of a
working life, rather than making that home the arena of every
conflicting element, the scene of jarring and discord, a place
rather to be dreaded and escaped from than longed for and
enjoyed. And we find respectable Workmen to hold pretty
' much the same opinion; for, although nearly all the men in our
employ had previously worked at home, we can recollect only
one or two cases where men have left us to return to their former
practice.
But then, of course, the 'wages must be fair honest wages, as
between master and man, fair too as compared with those of
workmen in other trades, and fair in relation to the ordinary
necessities of a working man and his family. We do not enter
upon any crotchets on the wages question; we disclaim any idea
of fixing a standard of wages, or of influencing the labour
market; we simply avow our design to carry on our business
upon certain principles, and that of helping to sustain the value
©f our workmen’s labour is one of them. It is true, that
indirectly we should like to see this influencing' others ; indeed,
it has already done so, for we have maife-it necessary for men
who never dreamt of such a thing before, in seeking the suffrages
of the public, to profess that they pay good wages to their work
men ; we can only say that we hope their workmen will see to
it, that they practice what they profess.
The wages in the tailoring trade has now been for many years
paid by the piece. What is technically called a “log ” is agreed
upon, that is a certain number of hours for every description of
garment, and the wages fixed at so much per hour ; the higher
priced houses pay at the rate of sixpence per hour, we pay fivepence ; the lower priced houses adopt the more convenient plan
of saying, “ Here is a certain garment, the price for making it is
so much, and you find your own trimmings.” According to our
k “log” the calculation is that a man of average ability shall earn
306'. per week, or 5s. per day of 12 hours, which is a journeyman
tailor’s day ; and we have found that calculation a very fair one
�14
for the workmen, clever men will considerably exceed it, and slow
men will hardly get up to it, but it is such that ordinary men arenot overtasked to accomplish. And then, having a large demand’
for made up goods, we are enabled during the periodical depres
sion in the trade, by replacing the stock sold in the busy season,,
to keep up pretty fairly the earnings of our workmen, so that wehave no need to discharge any of our people in the slack season,
but would rather have them attached to our establishment, as
much as the workman of any factory in a provincial town ; indeed
we would wish to displace the migratory habits of the journeyman
tailor, by a desire to fix himself down in a locality, and acquire
those influences and opportunities which are necessary to the
proper up-bringing of a family, and attaining a social position
which may give life a purpose, and enjoyment a reality.
In this matter of wages too, we are anxious that the public
should be satisfied as well as the workmen. There are many per
sons keenly alive to the principle of buying in the cheapest market,
who don’t desire their articles lessened in price at the expenseof the workman who manufactures them. We know that at the
time that public attention was directed to the distressed condition
of the needle women, there were many gentlemen who said, that
they bought their shirts at respectable shops, and gave a fair
price for them, and then were not sure after all that they were
not produced at the cost of the poor suffering sempstress. The
price for making every article that leaves our premises is vouched
by the signature and address of the workman who made it,
(Appendix C,) so that should any doubt exist about our pro
fessions, it is open to an easy solution. We are anxious to say,
too, that in being thus explicit upon this subject, we are taking
no credit for excessive generosity ; we are quite satisfied that the
course we have adopted has been conducive to our own interests,,
and moreover, the several schemes which we have in operation
for the benefit of our workmen, rest for their success on thebasis of fair remuneration to the worker.
�15
Means for
the
Intellectual Improvement of the
Workmen.
f The question of the day is said to be social progress, and a very
perplexing and undefinable sort of question it is. In its general
acceptation it is held to have reference to the respectable work
ing class, and to the indescribable working class, which is not so
respectable. As a theory, it involves a problem which it is difficult
to solve, while it has the merit of instituting agencies, and
enlisting sympathies, which have had a genial influence on a
class which is not “ working.” The well-to-do people, and the
scantily-supplied people, have become better acquainted with
each other, and there is no doubt that the advantages of their
intercourse have been reciprocal. It is avowed on all hands that
the working class has made great progress during the last thirty
years. Their intelligence, thoughtfulness, and provident habits,.
have well nigh extinguished the occupation of the agitator and
the stump orator; they are more disposed and better qualified to
investigate those subjects which have a bearing upon their own
interests, and less inclined to take their opinions on trust from
any man or set of men. The Press has undoubtedly exerted a
great influence to this end. Mr. Charles Knight, the Messrs.
Chambers, of Edinburgh, and John Cassell, have been the
knirveyors of a literature which was not poprdar, but which has
held on its way, and done its work, to the almost extinction of'
the diluted trash which used to be the current literature at the
poor man’s table. Literary institutions, too, have not been all
the failures they are sometimes said to be. In provincial towns
especially they have been the centre of attraction for youthful,
sardent, and inquiring minds, and stimulated now by the Society
of Arts and its annual examinations, they promise to be of’
increasing interest and usefulness.
And yet the subject of adult instruction for working men
is very difficult, if not discouraging. With but few opportunities
for the acquisition of knowledge systematically, with habits
formed, and tastes acquired, which make it necessary to unlearn
much, before much can be learned ; the utmost one can hope to-
�16
do, is to impart something of a relish for intellectual enjoyment,
and, by a little training, accustom, the mind to reflecting and
reasoning, so as to direct the judgment to right conclusions
on those important subjects with which it is necessary to be well
acquainted; an education, too,which can cast an en lightenment
upon the conscience, and quicken the moral as well as the
intellectual faculties ; in fact, such an education for the working
classes as will make them better as working men, rather than
induce a desire to be something better than working men.
When we erected our Hall, eight years ago, it was intended
chiefly as a day school for our workmen’s children, with a kind
of vague design, that it should be sometimes used by the men
for discussing topics in which they took an interest, or for
hearing lectures on both sides of a debatable subject, that they
might form their opinions for themselves. A little after
reflection convinced us that something more than this would be
necessary, and therefore we took means to organise for ourselves
a regular Literary Institute, with its Lectures, Classes, Readingroom, and Library, and such other adjuncts as experience might,
show to be needful. The premises which are occupied by our
Institution havebeenfound to be well adapted for our purpose, and
we are now recognised as the “ Tailors’ Labour Agency Literary
Institute,” in union with the Society of Arts.
Although as yet we can point rather to means than to results,
still, our Institution has in various ways exercised a wholesome
influence, and in some cases has effected a decidedly educational
improvement. Our classes have been Arithmetic and English
Grammar, English History, Literature and Biography, Music and
Erench. The number of persons in our employ is about 110,
who are members of the Institution, and the attendance at the
•classes has fluctuated from 10 to 40, those for English History,
and Literature and Biography, being the most popular. Our
Lectures have necessarily been of a miscellaneous sort, but the
Lecturers have been men of high attainments, who have attracted
large audiences, and done some measure of good. In our Library
and Reading-room we are amply provided with the means of
passing our evenings in an interesting and profitable way;
�17
and experience has deepened our conviction, that could we
get our people more disposed to avail themselves of such
advantages, much good in every way would come out of it.
Working men have many arguments, which cannot easily
be set aside, for seeking enjoyment of a different kind; it is
only, after all, a small per centage of their number who have
the taste or desire for the acquisition of knowledge for its
own sake, or who would make any sacrifice for a course of
mental training, which does not promise them a present good
pow and then a man will start out from among the rest in
pursuit of some subject which has arrested his attention, and if
he has the courage to apply himself to it, and the resolution to
persevere in the application, his intellectual faculties get
quickened, and by intercourse with others who are like-minded,
he gets “ a little knowledge,” which opens up to him a new life
and prospects, affording him sources of pleasure which the
illiterate can neither understand nor enjoy. Such a man be
comes a power among other men : the salt which in a great
measure has preserved the working classes, has been the intelli-gent, self-taught men who have sprung up among themselves—
the “ little leaven ” which may yet help to leaven the whole
mass.
We have often said that we would stand by our Institution
while there were six men interested in it and likely to be pro
fited by it. We have been frequently disappointed of large re
sults, but we know that it has been to some a haven where they
have found solace and shelter, and we would rather go on hoping
ever, than abandon the principles which have sustained us
hitherto, or lose faith in the efficacy of working and waiting for
an outcome of our labours.
PROVISION FOR THE EDUCATION OF THEIR CHILDREN.
It was not because we supposed that there was any deficiency
in the means of education in our neighbourhood that we opened
a day-school in connection with our Institution—we have seve
ral excellent public schools and many private ones; but we
thought that a school, supported by our own people conjointly,
�18
attached to their own Institution, and to some extent under their
own management, would have for them a greater interest than any
school of which they had a knowledge only hy common report.
We thought, too, that from various causes the attendance of the
children would be more regular, and longer continued than at an
ordinary school; and, that as our members were all acquainted
with the schoolmaster, whose interests and sympathies were with
them, who conducts an adult class among themselves, and is
editor of a manuscript journal, to which they are contributors,
he would be more accessible, if they needed to consult him on
matters affecting the education and habits of their children, than
an entire stranger would be. In all these respects we thought
rightly. Whatever difficulties we may have had about adult
instruction, we have had few, if any, with the children—our
school has been the most encouraging feature in our enterprise,
•and we would respectfully ask those interested in the cause of
•education to pay it a visit, assured that half-an-hour would con'
vince them that this experiment, so interesting to ourselves, has
not been altogether fruitless. The number of scholars vary from
70 to 80, boys and girls, some of them being the children of
neighbours who have sought admission to the school, and been
received at a fee of 6<7. per week. The instruction given includes
the ordinary branches, with history, geography, and social eco
nomy. In addition, the girls are taught plain, useful needlework,
with some little fancy affairs included. Some of the lads whom
we have trained have now entered upon the business of life with
every promise of success, and others, ■who have been with us five
or six years, are preparing to follow them. For the especial use
of those we intend to have evening classes twice a week, for the
study of such subjects as may be most useful to them, and to
keep up that pleasant intercourse to which we have looked for
ward as one of the results of the educational efforts w’e have been
making at our Institution.
May we here add, deferentially, a kind of practical solution of
the much vexed question of voluntary education and state
paid education ?
If every trading firm, employing a large
number of workmen, were to build a school-room as a matter of
�19
course, as they build their workshops, and encourage their men
to provide duly for the education of their children, it would do
the “ State some service,” and might save somewhat in the
expense of the machinery by which enthusiastic educationists
seek to establish their theory of voluntary education.
We have now a few words to say respecting the pecuniary
resources by which these various schemes are sustained. Apart
altogether from the business premises, and on the1 other side of
the way, we have two houses, in one of which is the hall and
committee room, library, class and chess rooms, with warm
baths on the basement beneath^ ThA enlargement and altera
tions necessary in this part of thfe j/r'einfises cost'krver £1,000.
In the other house running parallel with the hall, and of the
same extent, is the workshop, large enough for 80 men, and
which with its conveniences, cost £800. The burrent expenses
of the Institution are defrayed by a charge upoit 'Ofc member
of 6tZ. on every twenty shillings of wages he barns. Thus, a
man earning thirty shillings a week, would have to pay 9d.,
and for this he would be entitled to all the benefits of the
Institution, and to school instruction for all his children, what
ever their number may be. Then, again, we 'hive a weekly
penny paid to the library fund, which is expended on books,
and in supplying the reading room with newspapers, magazines,
&c.; these pennies usually amount to about £20 yearly.
We will put this matter in a form which will be readily
understood, and we are the more anxious to do so because it
will appear that while an Institution like ours may need to be
helped a little during its infancy, it is sure to become self
-supporting, and able to walk alone.
Income.
Per Centage on Wages ...
Letting Hall ...
...
...
Extra Scholars
...
...
Library Pennies
...
...
Rooms let at top of House
...£150
45
...
...
35
...
20
...
...
18
...
...
£268
�20
Expenditure.
Bent and Taxes
School Master and Mistress
Books and Newspapers
Lighting and Warming
Lectures, &c.
Cleaning and Attendance
Bepairs and Sundries
...
... £70
102
...
20
25
10
20
...
10
£257
We ought to remark that the sum set down for Lectures is
only the incidental expenses connected therewith, the Lecturers
sympathising with our objects, having given their services gra
tuitously. This was a necessity which cannot continue. The
source of our income is an expansive one, and will grow with the
growth of our business, and the small surplus we have now, will
soon become a fund out of which we can pay for the services of
eminent Lecturers, and enable us to make Lectures a feature of
our Institution, and a boon to the neighbourhood. We feel
bound in this place to record our obligations for very valuable
services, to the Bev. F. D. Maurice, the Bev. Sydney Turner, the
Bev. Paxton Hood, the Bev. G. Bogers, the Bev. D. Thomas,
Messrs. Henry Vincent, Appleby, Liggins, J. C. Plumptre, Gearey,
Edevain, &c., and for wise counsel and generous encouragement
we have been indebted to many whose names and labours have
long been associated with the progress of education and the social,
well-being of the people.
We hope that we have set forth what will sufficiently indicatethe theory and practice of the “ Tailors’ Labour Agency,” and
that the one will not be considered altogether visionary, nor the
other quite unfruitful of results. It has certainly been our aim
to make the worker more satisfied with his condition, by making'
that condition more worthy of his satisfaction. It is true that
our sphere is but limited, but within that sphere, we would like
to become an influence for good to those around us, convinced,
that wherever such an influence has been put forth zealously and
disinterestedly, benefit has never failed to ensue. It is a trite
�21
remark, but we believe it to be true, that the present times are
-auspicious for working men putting forth their strength, and
rising to the true dignity of that position which they are destined
yet to occupy. “ On all hands we see a stir and movement in
the public mind which is becoming more alive to the necessity
of social ameliorations. Evils which forty years ago would never
have been the subject of remark, are now examined with a care
that betokens a wide spread intelligence and philanthropy.
Every well considered measure, brought forward in a right spirit,
not only does good in itself, but makes it easier to do more good.
Difficulties which appear insuperable, doubts which cannot now
be solved, vanish of themselves when we grapple boldly with the
-duty which lies nearest at hand. The evils of society, as of the
individual, are of our own creation, and are already half con-quered when we look them in the face. No society ever yet
perished which had the will to save itself. It is only where
the will is so enervated, that a, community had rather shut its
-eyes to the dangers which menace it, than make the necessary
■•sacrifices to avert them, that its situation is desperate. Let
every one who in his public or private capacity can do anything
to relieve misery, to combat evil, to assert right, to redress wrong,
-do it with his whole heart and soul, and trust to God for the
result.”
Newington Causeway,
May, 1861.
�22
APPENDIX.
(A)
The amount paid in wages, in each of the last
will show the progress of the business :—
1854 ...............
...
... £3952
1855
...
... 4035
...
1856 ...............
...
4086
...
1857
...3494
...
1858 .
...
4171
1859
..
...
...4976
1860 ............... 4 d if’
...
6709
seven years-*
19 2
0 51
2
2 9j
11 3
11 6.
10 a
(B)
The following extract, from the “ Conditions on which theWorkmen are employed at the Agency,” will illustrate the
kind of connection we seek to establish between them and our
selves :—
“ 5. The first three months’ employment on the establishment will he
probationary. After that time, no Workman will be liable to immediate
discharge ; but, in case of negligence, imperfect work, or any impropriety
of conduct, the Foreman may suspend till the charge be investigated by
the Manager, the Foreman, and any one of his fellow-workmen whom the
offending party may nominate : and, if dismissal should be the result of
such investigation, that Workman shall not, under any circumstances, be
again employed on the Establishment.
“ 6. A decided preference will always be given to those who are careful
and industrious in their habits, and clean and orderly in their appearance.
It is, therefore, earnestly desired that the Workmen cultivate habits of per
sonal and domestic cleanliness ; as it is the avowed design of the Agency,
through its entire proceedings, to make connection with it uncomfortableand uncongenial to men of irregular habits and confirmed intemperance.”
�23
We may mention, also, that for several years we have had an
Annual Holiday ; on which occasion our premises are entirely
closed; and the Workmen, with their Wives, are conveyed, by
railway, some twenty or thirty miles in the country, where an,
ample Dinner and abundant rational enjoyments are provided
for them. We have, also, a Christmas Soiree, at our own Hall,
when Tea, Coffee, and a Vocal and Instrumental Concert are the
entertainments for the evening, These re-unions have had the
happiest effects amongst us, and are always anticipated with
pleasure and enjoyed with propriety.
(C)
DUNN’S TAILORS’ LABOUR AGENCY,
12, 13 and 14, NEWINGTON CAUSEWAY.
WORKSHOPS—39 and 40, Bridge House Place, Opposite.
For Mr_______ ____________________________ No________
Price of Garments_____________________________________
Wages-----------------hours, at five pence per hour.
This form of Ticket is intended to verify the amount of Wages paid to
the workman, and will accompany every garment, with the maker’s signa
ture and private address for inquiry.
A®" The Wages are calculated at 5s. a Day of Twelve Hours.
Printed by P. Grant & C'O., Red Lion Square, HoILorn.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Capital and labour; their rights and duties: a retrospect of the Tailors' Labour Agency
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 23 p. ; 20 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by F. Grant & Co., Red Lion Square, Holborn.
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William Freeman
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1861
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G5212
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Labour Movement
Working conditions
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Capitalism
Conway Tracts
Labour Movement
Socialism
Wages
Working Classes
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.j
NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
11
ffifte Atheistic ffitntfornu
XL
fL?-..
THE CURSE
|
OF CAPITAL.
BY
EDWARD B. AVELING, D.Sc.
LONDON:
FREETHOUGHT
PUBLISHING
63, FLEET STREET E.C.
1 8 8 4.
PRICE
ONE
PENNY.
COMPANY,
�THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
Under this title is being issued a fortnightly publi
cation, each number of which consists of a lecture
delivered by a well-known Freethought advocate. Any
question may be selected, provided that it has formed the
subject of a lecture delivered from the platform by an
Atheist. It is desired to show that the Atheistic platform
is used for the service of humanity, and that Atheists war
against tyranny of every kind, tyranny of king and god,
political, social, and theological.
Each issue consists of sixteen pages, and is published at
one penny. Each writer is responsible only for his or her
own views.
1. —“ What is the use of Prater ? ” By Annie Besant.
2. —“ Mind considered as a Bodily Function. By Alice
Bradlaugh.
3. —“ The Gospel of Evolution.” By Edward Aveling,
D.Sc.
4. —■“ England’s Balance-Sheet.” By Charles Bradlaugh.
5. —“ The Story of the Soudan.” By Annie Besant.
6. —“ Nature and the Gods.” By Arthur B. Moss.
These Six, in Wrapper, Sixpence.
7. —“ Some Objections to Socialism.” By Charles Brad
laugh.
8. —“ Is Darwinism Atheistic ? ” By Charles Cockbill
Cattell.
9. —“ The Myth of the Resurrection.” By Annie Besant.
10.—“ Does Royalty Pay ? ” By Geo. Standring.
*
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
----------- ♦-----------
For the first time in speaking in this hall, I feel to-night
that I shall not have my audience thoroughly with me.
I am so used to talking upon a subject upon which we are
all quite agreed—that is, on the subject of religion—that
I am conscious to-night—more conscious, perhaps, than
anybody else here—that I am speaking to an audience
which, on this particular topic with which I shall deal this
evening, is not at one with me. We have been so used to
discussing the position of Christianity and other creeds,
and have come to the same conclusions with such a start
ling and noticeable unanimity, that I am conscious, and I
doubt not many of you are conscious, of a certain amount
of embarrassment in dealing with the subject before us.
I know that I am in a minority, not quite of one, but at
all events in a minority with this audience. But that very
feeling prompts me to speak more openly to you, because
I know that I shall get from you just as patient a hearing
in respect to a subject on which you and I are antagonistic,
as I should have if I spoke on a subject on which we were
all thoroughly agreed. I am going to ask you to listen to
me not only patiently, but even silently. I mean that I
would rather speak to you on the subject to-night, and
make my position as plain to you as I can, without any in
terruption even of the kindly order with which you gene
rally favor me. The subject is a difficult one, an intricate
one. It wants very carefully placing before you, and wants
careful attention. Having said so much, I may at once
plunge into the discussion of what I have called “ The
Curse of Capital.”
I think that there are two great curses under which the
present society is laboring—the one is Christianity, and the
other is Capital. Last Sunday night I discussed the for
mer ; to-night I will discuss the latter. These are, to my
thinking, the two great curses of this modern civilisation
of ours ; and I have come to conclusions in respect to both
of these that I put before you as the result of my studies
as scientific student. Last week I told you I could not
�164
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
accept Christianity because I was a student of science. My
hatred of the capitalistic system of to-day is based on the
same methods, the same employment of scientific study, as
in the former case. I am an evolutionist, and as an evolu
tionist I have come to the conclusion that Christianity is a
bane and not a blessing. Equally, as an evolutionist, I
have come to the conclusion that the present system of pro
duction—the capitalistic system of production—is a bane
and not a blessing to the world at large. It is only a
blessing to a comparatively few people. It is a distinct
evil to anybody but that comparatively few. I am an
Evolutionist, an Atheist, and a Socialist.
Of these two curses I think capitalism is the greater
curse and the greater danger to us. Christianity you
and I hold to be bad alike for the society and for the
individual—upon that we are thoroughly agreed. Now,
capitalism is clearly, to my thinking at least, bad for
society, but, unfortunately, not bad for certain individuals.
Everyone of you desires—righteously desires—to be a
capitalist. In the present condition of society you are
perfectly right to desire it. Everyone of you desires to be
a capitalist. I should be very pleased to be a capitalist.
Nothing would give me better pleasure than to have a
certain amount of capital at my disposal; but nothing
would give me greater pain than to get it in the way that
some people get it. The great difficulty is this. Here is
a system we know to be distinctly bad for the race, and
yet to get capital for the individual is a distinct pleasure
to him and a distinct good. Christianity we hold to be
alike bad for the race and for everybody who takes part
in it; but the capitalistic system, though it is bad for the
mass, is good for certain individuals. That makes the
question complex, and people who cannot see beyond the
limits of their own life cannot understand that a system
out of which they themselves may get some benefit is a
bad system intrinsically none the less. Thus we want you
to subscribe capital for this hall and this company, to find
funds for an Atheistic hall, and we are justified under the
present existing conditions in doing this. It is absolutely
necessary. If any work is to be done there should be an
individual capitalist or company, but that does not vouch
for the goodness of the system nevertheless. .Often we
are reproached for being individually capitalists, though
we are fighting against the system. I hope we are not
inconsistent in this. It is a question of self-preservation.
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
165
I look, then, upon Christianity as a minor curse to Capi
talism. I am aware that I am speaking to an audience
that is in the main a Radical audience. It is pleasant to
think that in some respects we who differ as Socialists are
at one as Radicals. To one or two points I will call atten
tion where we are at one, and then I will deal with others
where we are not at one. You are an advance upon
Liberalism; as Liberalism is an advance upon Whiggism;
Whiggism on Conservatism, Conservatism on Toryism.
And as men progress from the lower to the higher, the next
step from Radicalism is Socialism. The difference, however,
between the position of Radicalism and that of Socialism
is much greater than between either of the other classes.
Not a Radical or Socialist would say “ no ” to this state
ment : that the condition of the labor classes is at the
present hour a disastrous one. There every thinker goes
with me when I say that the condition of the labor classes
is a most disastrous and unhappy one. In lives, in home,
in every detail of life, the position of the labor classes is
distinctly an injustice to them. I take it you will go
further (and not fare worse) in another point. Not only
is it that the labor classes are in a most unhappy condi
tion, but further, the chief reason for this is that they are
without power. They are without any social or political
power. This is the c’ry of all political reformers—the labor
classes have little^ or no social or political power. Why ?
Because all the means of production, with one exception, are
not in their hands, are indeed out of their reach. You
may say: “Well, but a man who is very thrifty and
careful can by degrees lift himself out of his condition and
make himself a small capitalist.” It is possible that a unit
out of thousands may do it; but I am speaking of the
average laboring man, and I urge upon you that the means
of production are not and never can be within reach of 999
out of every thousand of these men in existing conditions
—with one exception. And mark what the exception is, be
cause it is that upon which one of our fundamental doc
trines rests. The exception is what we call labor-power.
It is a truism to tell you that of all the means of produc
tion labor-power is the solitary essential one. It is the
one essential beyond all others. Machinery is a means of
production, but machinery without labor-power is perfectly
useless. Natural objects are, in a sense, means of produc
tion ; but they cannot be turned into commodities without
labor-power. In short, whatever means of production you
�166
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
take, all is of no avail without the one essential means—
labor-power. What I am trying to urge upon you is this,
—that the body of people in whom is resident the one
essential, human labor-power, are the very body of people
who have no other means of production at their disposal
whatever. They are all out of their reach except this one,
the most essential one. Upon that it seems that we are
justified in charging a gross injustice upon our modern
society. More than this. Other means of production, such
as machinery, have been produced by this labor-power, and
are now beyond the reach of the very class to whose labor
they are due.
We have seen that the poor of the laboring classes are
in an unhappy condition, and that the means of production
are out of their reach. As a consequence, it is a familiar
fact that every great discovery, whatever it may be, does
not benefit the labor classes. Any great scientific discovery,
any great advance—say the telegraph or the application of
electricity—whom does it benefit ? the productive classes ?
What are called the middle classes derive a considerable
amount of benefit from it; but how many of the labor
classes are in any sense better ? How many working men
or women’s lives are made sweeter or happier by any of
these scientific discoveries ? Put the question to yourselves,
and I think that the answer will be that, on the whole,
any great discovery is not for the world at large, but for a
comparatively limited class, and not for the class that most
needs these discoveries and their advantages. Another
illustration: I take the illustration of our schools and
universities. Our universities have, every one of them,
been founded by the labor of the labor classes. Every
detail of the finances of our universities is entirely due to
the labor of the labor classes. The scholarships that keep
men at Cambridge, the various exhibitions that can be
obtained there, the great endowments of “Chairs” of this
science, and of that language, all these emoluments in
your universities are the product of the labor classes.
What benefit do they get from them ? The answer is,
evidently none! So also with your State schools. You
will say they are supported by the rates, and that the rates
come out of your pocket. You may speak feelingly; but
economically every rate that you pay comes directly or in
directly out of the labor of the labor classes; and hence
these schools are their property. You only are, as it were,
trustees for them, and very badly you deal with your
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
167
trusteeship. When they clamor for free education they
are asking a right, and not a favor. Whenever there is a cry
for free schools they are simply asking for their own again.
Another point of agreement: for any remedy of a drastic
nature, for any great change that is ever to be brought
about, Parliament, as at present constituted, is practically
useless. I know well enough my Radical friends with a
sigh will repeat that after me, and will tell you that for
any great change that is to be brought about with speed
and completeness, Parliament, as at present constituted,
is practically of no avail. It is not necessary to remind
you how the men are elected, and how they conduct their
business, or no business, as the case may be; but certain
we are of the painful fact that Parliament is only a Board
for the protection of vested interests.
There is a word used by politicians that covers a multi
tude of sins: that is, “government.” Even those who
feel that Parliament is largely effete, still cling to that
shibboleth—‘ ‘ government. ’ ’ They say when you have such
men as are now in the Cabinet, you have a Government of
able and well-meaning benefactors to their species. I am
not going to touch the question whether a Tory or a
Liberal Goverment is the better; but I am going to remind
you that every Government, like every Parliament, con
sists of a body of men who—at least nine out of ten—
are of that very -class of landlord and capitalist against
whom we, as Socialists, are waging warfare. Our govern
ments, whether in England, Germany, or America, are all
governments of a small class, of the capitalist and landlord
•order; and they govern for the benefit of capitalists and
landlords, and not for the benefit of the community at large.
This is too true, no matter with what Government we deal.
We know that never, in the history of the past, has
there been an example of one class legislating fairly and
honestly for any other class; and yet this is what you
expect with your panacea of a Liberal Government. In
all these Government arrangements, you always have one
class legislating for another; and whenever you have that
you will have little or no real legislation done. You
middle class people refused to allow the “ upper class ” to
legislate for you, though you left them a little figment in
the shape of a House of Lords, to remind you how foolish
you were to leave them anything at all. Yet you middle
class people think you can legislate for the working-classes.
It is impossible. There will never be honest and fair and
�168
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
complete legislation for the community at large until all
classes are legislating for themselves or until there is no
“ class” at all, and the legislation is of the community for1
the community.
Some will say: “You Socialists are so unpractical.
You are talking very finely to-night; but why can’t you
be patient ? Why can’t you help us when we try to get
some measures passed—such as Municipal Bills or Fran
chise Bills?” We do; and are willing to help you. I
am not of that imaginary school of Socialists who say it is
not of the slightest good helping in any of these little
measures of Extension of the Franchise and so on. I
believe I am the mouthpiece of a great number of people
who are quite willing to help you in these; but it must be
understood that these are merely transition remedies; that
they do not heal the sore at all; they do not get near it.
I want to see the Franchise extended and two million
more electors added to the suffrage-list; I want to see
women on the suffrage-list; and I am perfectly anxious to
work with you at it. So is it, I believe, with every
thinker among the Socialist party. But these are tran
sition remedies, and don’t touch the vital point. They are
interesting, and move in the right direction, but they are
only transition remedies, and as they are such, you must
forgive us if we work also for something which goes
further. And this is where the Radical politician and the
Socialist are so much at issue.
I may most fitly, here, before I turn to another point,
speak for a moment of two schools of thought, eaoh of whom
is working, I believe, honestly and thoroughly in the right
direction, but each of whom, again, is not what we should
call a Socialist. I mean the Positivist school and the Radi
cal school. I am a Positivist, but something more; and I am
a Radical, but something much more. The Positivist aims
at something, but does not go far enough. The Positivist
says : “Moralise your individual; make him a better and
more moral man, and then your great results will follow.”
The first part is excellent, but the second part contains, I
think, a fallacy. By all means moralise your children;
let them have as much intellectual training as possible;
that is excellent. But when the Positivist says that all
good results will follow, we do not go with him there. It
is quite right to work from within outwards, but you must
also work from without inwards. You must change not
only the nature of the individual, but change, too, his
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
169
environment. It is of greater importance to change the
environment, and make it a more moral environment.
We say, work from within outwards, but work also from
without inwards; and at length, the two labors meeting,
you will obtain the desired effect.
The Radical says: “Change the nature of government—
let us have a Republic.” Strange, how many Radicals seem
to think that the moment a Republic comes then the political
millennium will be to hand. Look at France and America,
and ask yourselves whether the condition of the community
at large in those countries is in any degree better than it is
in England. It needs no reading to know that under
Republics the exploiting of the laboring classes is as bad as
under monarchies, if not worse. Do not let us think that
a Republic will change all the conditions. I think a
monarchy is as evil a form of government as any you can
have. But do not imagine that if you had a Republic to
morrow that you would have the community at large much
happier. I cannot believe it; all evidence is against it.
What is it, then, at which we aim? We want, with the
Positivist, to change the morale, of the individual; we want,
with the Radical, to get a better form of nominal govern
ment ; but we want to do something else—to change the
environment of the individual. I told you at the outset
that I had come to these conclusions by way of science.
From science, especially from your Darwinian science, you
can learn so much. You that are students of Darwin, and
have learned something of his views and of his great
truths, will know what I mean by this idea of changing the
environment, the surroundings, as well as changing the
individual. As result of that variation that is so infinite
in nature, on which natural selection works, you get an
infinite diversity of plants and animals, on which evolution
works. How is this variation brought about ? Mainly by
the changed conditions of the surrounding of the animal
or plant. Why is it that a particular plant or animal
varies ? Largely because of the conditions in which it is
placed. You who have learned the incalculable value of
conditions on the individual, of the nature of the environ
ment, will see what our meaning is when we say it is no
good working on the individual alone; you must alter the
condition of society as it is at the present time, and then
you will get a reaction upon the individual.
Upon some of the chief words in economics you as Radi
cal and I as Socialist part company. When I begin to
�170
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
speak of labor, competition, thrift, wages, profit, we shall
be to some extent at issue. You know that everyone of
those wants a lecture or a course of lectures; and as I am
making a confession of faith to you, and trying to justify
my position in this matter, you will bear with me if I say
a word or two on each of these points.
Labor. There is a phrase often used about labor that
the Socialist abhors. That is, “the dignity of labor.”
We hear so much said about the “ dignity of labor,” but
it does not come from those who are laboring. We do not
look upon labor—that is, upon human effort as devoted
to the production of commodities—as in itself a desirable
thing—as, per se, a thing that is to be regarded as a glory
and a dignity. It is excellent to use your muscles for the
good of the community, but it is a great mistake to talk at
large upon the subject of the “glory and dignity of labor.”
We should try to reduce labor to a minimum. That can only
be done by making the enormous number who never labor
at all take their fair share in the labor of the community.
Then the word “competition.” 0 competition ! “cause
of England’s greatness.” People who have given up the
idea that the Bible is the cause of England’s greatness
have yet seriously come to the conclusion that competition
is the great thing that has made England what it is. Com
petition is almost an unmitigated evil. For it always leads
to two things—first, combination; and, secondly, mono
poly. The whole history of the past and the history of
to-day tells us that where we have unlimited competition
you are sure to get, sooner or later, combination, and, as a
result monopoly. I do not think that I need deal with the
extraordinary statement that is often made, that all great
discoveries are the outcome of the spirit of competition. I
cannot understand how anybody can seriously make that
statement. I am not about to traverse the history of dis
coveries. But I ask you to think of any discovery, and to
reflect whether it has ever been the result of such compe
tition, or whether it has not invariably been made by some
man who has no need to compete perhaps; and certainly
has no intention of competing. How is it all your great
scientific work has to be done by men of means or holding
sinecures?—your Darwins, your Huxleys—all these men
who do all your best scientific work, but do it in no spirit
of competition. We look forward to the time when not
merely a few here and there will be able to give their at
tention to further discoveries, to the extension of know
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
171
ledge, and when, by a more equitable division of work and
play, there will be possibility for hundreds and thousands
instead of units can give time and attention to work and dis
covery and the extension of human knowledge. We can
not understand that competition has brought about these
great discoveries. It has brought about many great com
mercial successes—I do not deny that. But if you are
going to measure the good of the world by the commercial
success of the world, I draw back from you. If you are
going to tell me that it is due to competition that you have
such magnificent fortunes and such successes in certain
lives, you must be reminded that you are measuring the
world by such a little thing; English people measure all
good by the purely commercial test. They can hardly help
it in the present condition of society. They measure almost
all good on the commercial basis, and there, of course,
competition has been an advantage to individuals.
The word “wages” ought, of course, to be spoken of
in lecture after lecture. All I dare hint at here are just
two things. We, as Socialists, desire that wages to the
workers should be a fixed and a fair proportion at least of
the products. Nothing of that kind exists to-day. In all
probability, if changes come gradually, there will be first
some fixed proportion, and later on there will be a fair
proportion, coming as wage to the laborer. At present he
has neither the one-nor the other. We cannot go into a dis
cussion as to what regulates wages, but clearly there is
now nothing like a fixed, much less a fair, proportion of
the produce going to labor. So far Radicals go with us;
but when we say you will never get this in all probability
until the existing condition of things is revolutionised, until
the present relation between capital and labor is alto
gether done away with—you, as Radicals, will draw back.
At present the proportion of the produce that goes to the
worker is distinctly unfair; but we as Socialists say you
will never get that fair proportion until the relationship
between labor and capital is completely revolutionised.
Just another word, about profit. Production to-day is
for three things. Production, that is, where by human
power and the use of other means of production, natural
objects are turned into commodities, is either for use
directly, or for exchange, or for profit. It is that third
kind of production to which we take exception. Produc
tion for use is excellent. Production for exchange is,
also, a well-recognised form of production. But produc
�172
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
tion for profit is that against which Socialists set their
face. It is this that is the cause of what is called the
profit-mongering condition of society; and it is because
the present condition of society is essentially a profit
mongering one, because the nature and aim of every one
is to get profit somehow, that we have most of the ills
that at present exist. Production for profit we look upon
as an undesirable thing. There is another familiar phrase:
“ Has not a man a right to his own—to what he produces
or makes? ” The question frequently comes up, especially
when we begin to study this question. If a man has
produced so and so, and made a profit out of it, has
not he a right to his own ? It seems a strange
and low form of morality that prompts one to such an
enquiry. No, clearly not. There is something greater
than the individual—that is, the community for which he
works. A man has clearly no right to do as he pleases.
That which a man produces in his present condition he
must keep, as much as he can, or he would not live. But
in the condition of things to which we look forward we
hope it will be understood that a man produces not for
himself but for the community. Take a case noticed in
the papers recently. One man in a firm in Birmingham
drew out of the firm £70,000 as one year’s income. You
and I are equally agreed that that man had clearly no
right to that £70,000. He will tell you he invested so
much, and so much came back as interest. But even if
he carried on the business himself, I should dispute that
he had a right to the money, because it is clearly profit,
and profit is always made by the exploiting of somebody
somewhere. But I read that there was a child of ten in
that firm. He was also having laid up for him so many
thousands per year. I hold that that child had distinctly
no right to that money. You will say his father founded
the business, and surely he has a right to leave it to the
child. No ; he has no such right. I know in the present
state of society he must do it. But I say the society is
wrong where such a thing is possible, where a child who
has done nothing whatever for humanity should have an1
income of £10,000 or £20,000 a year. It is a crime.
I now come to the one word upon which everything de
pends, and that is the word “capital.” It is upon the
meaning of capital that the Socialistic and all other orders
of thought are at daggers drawn. The one question is, what
explanation do you offer of capital ? I have used the
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
173
phrase “ The Curse of Capital,” I mean capital as it exists
to-day. Capital itself is not a curse; it is only a curse as
it is at this hour. What is this capital ? The economist
says it is the result of saving; and you who have made a
little capital echo that and say “yes.” I must ask you
most carefully not to speak of capital only as an individual.
Your own capital may be the result of saving. I want you
to understand that I am not looking at these little
cases, but I am thinking of great capitalistic fortunes.
You must not rise in your place and tell me your little
experience of how you saved something from your wages,
and commenced to have capital. We must deal with the
big questions of how the great capitals are formed. How ?
Oh, says the political economist, by saving, by self-denial,
by the thrift of the individual. Now, I ask you, what
saving, what self-denial, what thrift has any one of
the great capitalists of the present day shown ? It is
fair to ask, what thrift or self-denial does a great capi
talist show every year? The self-denial and thrift are
shown by his workers. But they do not get the capital,
they make it for him. Trace it wherever you will, and
you will discover that capital is now scarcely ever
the result of the self-denial of the individual who gets
it. Of what is it the result ? I made a distinction
between the great capitalists and the small. I want
to get beyond the latter. You small men are only bubbles
on the great stream, that show neither the direction nor
the depth of the stream. The Socialist says, it is the result
of saving. It is, on the part of the laborer. It is a result
of thrift, but on the part of the laborer. All the capital,
as it is to-day, is the result of the laborer not being paid
for more than a fraction of the work he does. That is the
central position of Socialism; and I want antagonists of
Socialism to assail that position. You may say you want
to know about details, and how you are going to publish
newspapers, and how you are going to get your watches,
and so on. I am not going to deal with these details to
night. I am now dealing with the central question, what is
the meaning of capital? and I am contending that the
meaning of capital is that it is the result of labor that has
never been remunerated.
Say we take a mill that starts working on Monday
morning. Every man and woman works, let us suppose,
ten hours a day. I wish the supposition were accurate.
At the end of the week they are paid; and we contend
�174
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
that the payment that they get is remuneration only really
for some two or three or four hours out of every ten. The
labor of the men receives a fraudulent payment. They
had earned what they were paid early in the week, and
had worked days and days absolutely for nothing, as far
as they themselves are concerned.
I may here, if I have made the difficult question clear,
just take one illustration from my own way of thinking.
Did you not ask yourselves as a child where does all the
wealth come from ? I as a child did what I think some
children of a larger growth do; and came to the conclu
sion that it all filtered down from the great millionaires at
the top. I had only gorie half way I I had not traced the
wealth to the real source. I traced it up to the million
aires, these interest-mongers, and so forth; but I should
have gone on. Then I should have found out that I had
to retrace my steps, and that these men had exploited the
class beneath them, and that class had exploited the men
beneath them, and at last I come down to where there is
the sound of hammers, of digging and delving. I should
have come where I hear the sighs of the labor-class, and I
should have heard that out of those sighs .there grew the
ring of gold; I should have seen these labor-men giving
their lives night and day, year after year, and dying in the
very act of handing on something to the class above them.
Thus I might have traced the lessening exploitation up
wards until I got to these colossal fortunes of men who do
nothing at all.
What does Socialism propose? It says: You must
nationalise the means of production and the land. Wealth
shall only be enjoyed by the producers—by nobody else
whatever. And to that end, first you must nationalise
the land, and secondly you must nationalise something
more important, the means of production. You must
attack the landlord and also the capitalist. Both must go
down. And the signs of the times show you the capital
istic forces are closing up with us against the landlord.
Self-preservation is taking possession of them at last.
But these two must be attacked simultaneously. Land
and capital must become the property of the nation.
What will the State be? you will ask. The organised
capacity of the workers. What is it to-day ? To-day it
is the organised tyranny of the idlers. We desire to
replace this by an organised capacity of the workers.
Nationalisation of the land and nationalisation of all the
�THE CURSE OF CAPITAL.
175
means of production are to be brought about by a stead
fast education of the working classes and of the middle
classes to a due understanding of the condition of things
and of the wrong that is done the workers. If we could
make every working man understand what I have tried to
make you understand to-night, a revolution would be
brought about to-morrow morning. If once we could make
them understand this key-note of Socialism the present
system of things would end. This is to be brought about
by education. That education is going on in other
countries; but you English people have little conception
of how Socialism is spreading. I believe there is no move
ment since the movement called Christianity that has any
thing like the hold upon the people that this Socialistic
movement of to-day is gaining. In England you do not
know that everyone of our schemes is based upon scien
tific reasoning of the keenest minds of years and centuries.
You say our principles are fads and unsound ideas. You
do not know that our Socialism is the outcome of the most
patient investigation and study of the acutest minds upon
past history and upon the signs of the coming future.
In every country except England the movement is grow
ing immensely. It is growing in England, and I want you
to take your part in a movement that is, without a doubt,
the one movement of this century. This century will be
known for the blowing away of most of the cobwebs of
supernaturalism. 'But it will be known, without any doubt,
by a name far greater, and that is, for the revolution of
the relations between capital and labor. We have in
England one paper, Justice, devoted to Socialism, hardly
read by you. On the continent there are numbers of
journals entirely devoted to the Socialistic movement. In
France, at the voting for the municipal elections at Paris
in 1881, there were only 17,895 Socialist votes; three
years later there were 38,729—that is to say, that in three
years some 17,000 odd had grown to 38,000 odd. Take,
again, the numbers at Berlin. In 1871 there were 1,135
votes for the Socialist party; in 1874 16,549; three years
later 17,000; and three years later 33,629 ; and in 1881,
only one year between, 56,712.
Do you intend to ignore a movement like that ? You
cannot ignore it. A movement that can spread so rapidly
on the Continent cannot be ignored. It is an international
question, it is a question of nations and of the progress of
all nations.
�176
THE ATHEISTIC PLATFORM.
You will ask: “ Will you not have a frightful struggle,
and will it not end in bloodshed ? ” Possibly. I do not
know. “Is it not setting class against class?” Yes; and
Socialists mean to devote their lives to setting class against
class. We preach class warfare. We hope it may not be
a warfare of bullets and of steel; but if it is class warfare
even this alasI is possible. It is a warfare of the labor
class against the capitalist class. In the past there has
been no such battle without bloodshed. I only hope that
this freedom of the labor class, that has certainly to come,
may be brought about by reason and argument. But it
will have to be brought about. Shelley and Marx did not
think it would be brought about without a tremendous
struggle. Neither they nor we are blind to the possi
bilities that are before us. Marx tells us again and again:
“ Work on, you men. Get yourselves represented in Par
liament ; get hold of the means of Government where you
can, and increase your power, until you are sufficiently
strong to say: ‘ Now we will see right done.’ And then
the fighting will come. But it will come from those who
hold your right from you.” Such a cry will go up in timpI want your voice and mine to help to swell that great cry.
It is growing in volume and intensity from all of the labor
classes throughout the world : “ Our Rights! Our Rights I
Our Rights I ”
Printed by Annie Besant and Charles Bradlaugh, at 63 Fleet
Street, London, E.C.—1884.
�
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The curse of capitalism
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Aveling, Edward B. [1849-1898]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: [163]-176 p. ; 18 cm.
Series title: Atheistic Platform
Series number: 11
Notes: Through-pagination with other pamphlets in Atheistic Platform series. List of other titles in the series inside front cover. Printed by Annie Besant and Charles Bradlaugh, 63 Fleet Street, London E.C. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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1884
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Capitalism
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THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE
.
WORKING CLASS.
*
*\
& ftttert
Delivered to a Meeting of Trades Unionists, May 7, 1868.
BY
EDWARD SPENCER BEESLY,
PBOEESSOB OP HISWEY IN UNIVEBSITY COLL EC®, LONDON.
“ The working class is not, properly speaking, a class at all, but constitutes the-body
of society. From it proceed the various special classes, which we may regard as organs
necessary to that body.”—-Auguste Comte.
Reprinted from the “Fortnightly Review.”
LONDON:
E.
TRUELOVE, "256,
. .
HIGH HOLBORN.
± 1869*1^
��THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.1
We live in a day when social questions are for the first time con
testing precedence with political questions. In the first French
revolution the distinction was not apparent; at all events it was not
recognised even by sharp-sighted observers, though we, looking back
to those times, can detect the signs of it. During the reign of Louis
Philippe—from 1830, that is, to 1848—the distinction became every
year more marked. It is the fashion to speak of the revolution of
1848 as a very small affair—as a feeble imitation of the old revolu
tion. If looked at from a political point of view, in the narrowest
sense of that term, it certainly was a much smaller affair than the
old revolution. But to those who have realised in their minds that
there has been in truth but one revolution, which began in 1789 and
has been going on ever since, and that the year 1848 marks its
transition from the purely political to the social phase,—to such
persons, I say, the last epoch will seem even more momentous than
the first. The attempt of 1848 was a failure, no doubt. But the
history of the French revolution was not closed in 1848, as most of
us here present will live to see.
In England we have travelled the same path, though hitherto
without such violent shocks. We are all of us, French and English
alike, moving rapidly towards the most fundamental revolution
Europe has yet undergone ; a revolution in comparison with which
the great political changes in the time of our grandfathers, and even
the great religious changes three centuries ago, were, I had almost
said, insignificant. I will not pretend to say how far workmen may
have clearly realised to themselves this prospect. I am inclined to
think that not many of them have more than a vague conception of
it, although they are instinctively working towards it. But the
middle class have no conception of it at all. I am not speaking of
the stupidly ignorant part of that body, but of its more enlightened
and active members. They sincerely believe that the series of
political changes which they commenced in England forty years ago
is nearly completed. When they shall have abolished the State
Church, reduced taxation somewhat, obtained the ballot and equal
electoral districts or something like it, they think reform will be
completed, and that England will enter upon a sort of golden age.
(1) This lecture was the last of a series of three delivered last spring, by request of
the London Trades’ Council, to meetings convoked by that body. The first two were
"by Dr. Congreve and Mr. Frederic Harrison.
�2
THE SOCIAL FUTURE 0$ THE WORKING CLASS*
They do not contemplate any serious change, either political or
industrial. Politically, we are still to be governed by Parliament.
In industry we are to have the reign of unlimited competition.
' Now we can all of us understand that some men, either from
education or mental constitution, do not believe in progress at all.
They think that all change is for the worse, unless it is a change
backwards; and they are convinced that nothing but firmness is
wanting to resist change. There always have been such men, and
we can understand them. But what is less easy to understand is
that there should be men who believe heartily in progress, and yet
shut their eyes deliberately to the goal whither we are tending.
The truth is that their belief in progress does not rest on any reason
able basis. It is nothing better than a superstitious optimism, a
lazy semi-religious idea that the world must have a natural tendency
to get better. As for what getting better means, that they settle by
their own likes and dislikes. Consequently the middle-class man
interprets it to mean a reign of unlimited competition and individual
freedom; while the workman understands it to be a more equal
division of the products of industry. Although the workman’s
circumstances have led him to a truer conception of progress, perhaps
he has not arrived at it on much more reasonable grounds than those
on which the middle-class man has arrived at his. For, after all, it
does not follow because we long for a certain state of society that
therefore we are tending towards it.
The lot of the poor is a hard lot; there is no denying that. With
a very large number of them life is absolute misery from birth to
death. Though they may not actually starve, they are more or less
hungry from one week’s end to another; their dull round of toil
occupies the whole day; their homes are squalid and frightful,
seldom free from disease, and the heartrending .incidents of disease,
when aggravated by poverty. For them life is joyless, changeless,
hopeless. “ They wait for death, but it cometh not; they rejoice
exceedingly and are glad when they can find the grave.” Those who
have mixed with the very poor, and have been startled by the strange
calmness with which they contemplate and speak of death, whether
of themselves or their relatives, will not say that this picture is much
over-drawn. But it is not of this poorest class that I now wish to
speak. I say that the lot of the skilled artizan earning his 30s.
or 35s. a week (when he is not out of employment) is a hard lot.
Perhaps it may seldom or never happen to him to go for a day with
his hunger only half satisfied. But his position compared with that
of a non-workman is one of great discomfort. People often seem to
forget this. It is not uncommon for rich men, when addressing an
audience of workmen to say, “ My friends, I am a working man. I
have been a working man all my life. I have been working with
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
3
my brain as you have with your hands.” Yes, but there is just
that difference. The one man has risen, say, at eight in the morning,
from a comfortable bed, has come down-stairs to a comfortable
breakfast, read his newspaper, reached his place of business towards
eleven o’clock, and then worked perhaps hard enough for some hours,
but in a comfortable office, and with interest in his work so intense
that he perhaps prefers it to any amusement, and then back to his
comfortable dinner and bed. The other man has risen perhaps
before daylight, has toiled ten or twelve hours, it may be under a
broiling sun, or a chilling rain, or under other conditions equally
disagreeable, and at work which cannot have very much interest for
him, first, because it is monotonous, secondly, because the product
will not be his when he has produced it. He has snatched his coarse
food at intervals during the day, and has returned at night to an
uncomfortable home. I think rich people are too apt to forget that,
though habit counts for much, a poor man’s, muscles, lungs, and
stomach,.are, after all, not very unlike their own, and that no amount
of custom makes such a life Otherwise than disagreeable and even
painful to him; and that the main question for him in reference to
civilisation will be, how it alleviates his condition. How are we
to answer that question? Everyone is familiar with the hymns
of triumph that are raised from time to time on the platform and in
the press. We need not enter into particulars, because no one
disputes that, so far as they go, they do point to progress of a certain
kind. No one disputes that the production and accumulation of
wealth is an element of progress J but it is only one element, and if
even this is confined to a comparatively small section of the com
munity, it must be admitted either that society as a whole is not
progressing, or that its progress must be proved by somewhat better
evidence than the statistics paraded in budget speeches and news
paper articles.
There is no question about the material progress of the non-work
man class. There are many thousands of houses in London infinitely
more commodious and luxurious than the palaces of Plantagenet
kings. But there is very great question whether the workmen
generally have made any real progress in comfort. Some of them
have, no doubt. The skilled artizan in London gets enough to eat.
He is perhaps no better lodged than his forefathers, but he dresses
better, and he has greater opportunities of enjoying himself and
moving about to better himself. But among the agricultural
labourers what state of things do we find ? In many parts of England
they are positively worse off than they were a hundred years ago.
In the Eastern Counties, where agriculture is carried on by the
newest lights of science, the horrible gang-system has come into
existence within the present century. Nor is such misery confined
.
b 2
�4
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASSJ
to agricultural labourers. It has been proved in official reports that
' the workmen in such extensive trades as shoe-making, silk-weaving,
and stocking-weaving, are on an average worse fed than the
Lancashire operatives were during the cotton famine.1
Now, wretchedness of this terrible kind does not exist even among
barbarous nations and savage tribes. The child of the North
American Indian, or the Caffre, or the Esquimaux, does not begin to
work in a mill or in an agricultural gang almost as soon as it can
walk. It gets better food than the English child, and leads a
healthier and more enjoyable life. The West Indian negro has
been treated as an irreclaimable savage because he will not toil like
an English labourer, and the reason assigned is that he has plenty
to eat and drink without working hard for it. I fancy most English
labourers wish they could say the same. Really, if progress and
civilisation mean nothing but an increase of wealth, irrespective of
its distribution, Rousseau had much reason to prefer the state of
nature. It is childish to remind the poor man that his ancestor
under the Plantagenet kings had no chimney to his hut, no. glass in
his windows, no paper on his walls, no cheap calico, no parliamentary
trains, no penny newspapers. He was no worse off in these respects
than the Plantagenet king himself, who was equally without chimneys,
glass windows, calico, railways, and penny newspapers. There are parts
of the world now where the labourer is still in that condition. But
he gets sound and healthy sleep out of the straw spread on the floor
of his windowless hut, which is more than three or four families
huddled together in a single room in St. Giles’s can do, though they
may have a glazed window and a chimney. A poor Englishman
might be ashamed to walk about in a good stout sheepskin; but he
is often clad in garments much less warm and durable. What sort
of progress is this, in which the larger part of the community remains
as miserable, if not more miserable, than in a state of barbarism ?
If progress is necessarily so one-sided, it were better—I say it deli
berately—it were better it ceased. It were better that all were poor
together than that this frightful contrast should exist to shake men’s
faith in the eternal principles of justice.
Happily, we are not shut up to so discouraging a conclusion. If .
we look at the whole history of our race in Western Europe, instead
of studying one short chapter of it alone, we shall soon see what its
progress has been. The labouring class have steadily advanced in
dignity and influence. Once they were slaves, with no more rights
than horses and oxen. Then they were serfs, with certain rights,
but still subject to grievous oppression and indignities. Then they
became free hired labourers, nominally equal with the upper class
before the law, but in practice treated as an inferior race, and them(1) Public Health; Sixth Report, for 1863, pp. 13, 14.
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
3
selves looking on the rich with much deference and awe. Now we
have come to a time when the workmen are almost everywhere
standing on their rights, and resisting what they deem unfair or
oppressive. They have learnt the secret of combination. With
freedom and dignity has come confidence—confidence in each other.
They have grasped the idea that the main object of government and
industrial organisation should be their comfort and happiness. What
is more, everybody is beginning to hold the same language. Every
proposal publicly made, whether to destroy or to create, is represented
as for the good of the lower classes. The very employers who are
trying to destroy your trade societies profess to be doing it out of
pure love for you. How astonishing and incomprehensible would all
this have been—I do not say to the ancient slave-owner, or to the
mediaeval baron—but to the wealthy men of the last century. Is
not this progress ? What if a minority only of the workmen have
as yet derived any benefit from the increased production of wealth ?
Is it nothing that the arms are being forged with which all shall at
length get their share ? Material improvement has always begun,
and always will begin, not with. those who need it most, but with
those who need it least; and the higher classes of workmen are now
making the experiment which the lowest will repeat after them.
Once firmly grasped, this truth throws a flood of light on history,
and makes clear what at first sight, is so obscure—the unbroken,
continuous progress of society. We see that even in the so-called
dark ages, when the splendour of Roman civilisation appeared to be
extinguished by the barbarian—when science, art, and literature
were lost and forgotten, and the world seemed to have retrograded
ten centuries—even then, in that dark hour, our race was accom
plishing the most decided step forward that it has ever made. When
the philosophers and poets and artists of Greece were lavishing their
immortal works on small communities of free men—when the
warriors and statesmen of Rome were building up the most splendid
political fabric that the world has seen—the masses were sunk in a
state of brutal slavery. . But when savage tribes, with uncouth names
and rude manners, had poured over Europe,. when a squalid bar
barism had superseded the elegance and luxury of ancient society,
when kings could not read, and priests could not write, when trade
and commerce had relapsed into Oriental simplicity, when men
thought that the end of a decayed and dying world was surely near
—then were the masses, . the working men, accomplishing un
noticed their first great step from slavery to' serfdom.
What I have already said amounts to this: that the improvement
of the condition of the working class is the most important element
of human progress—so important that even if we were to make it
�6
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
the sole object and test of our public life we could not justly be said
to be taking a one-sided view of political and social questions. I
shall endeavour presently to draw a picture of the workman’s life,
as it ought to be, and, as I believe, it will be in the future. But I
must first examine some of the means by which the transition is
being effected.
I will put aside the various schemes of Socialists and Communists.,
which have found so many supporters on the Continent. Widely as
they differ from one another, I believe they all agree in demanding
that the State shall intervene, more or less, in the direction of
industry. Now that' opinion has never found much favour in
England, nor is there at the present time any large body of workmen
who support it. In France the first idea of every reformer or
innovator is to act through the Government. This tendency arises
partly from the jealousy with which all Governments in that country
have repressed voluntary association, but partly also from the logical
and orderly character of the French mind, which abhors anything
partial or patchy either in thought or action. But in England,
where there has always been considerable facility for private and
associated action, it is our way rather to depend upon ourselves than
to wait till we have a Government of our way of thinking. Hence
the only two methods which have any serious pretensions to promote
the elevation of workmen in England have both of them sprung, not
from the brains of philosophers, but from the practical efforts of
workmen themselves. This is shown by the very language we
employ to describe them. In France the labour question has meant
the discussion of the rival schools, the Economic School, the school of
Fourier, the school of Proudhon, the school of Louis Blanc, of Cabet,
of Pierre Leroux, and so on. In England we do not talk of schools,
but of Unionism and Co-operation, which began in a practical form,
and have continued practical. There can be no doubt that all work
men who care for the future of their class are looking to one of these
two methods for the realisation of their hopes. Here, as on the
Continent, there is no lack of thinkers with elaborate schemes which,
in the opinion of their authors, would ensure universal happiness.
But whereas the French philosophers, whom I have mentioned, had
each his thousands of ardent disciples among the workmen, our
theorists cannot count their disciples by dozens, and are therefore not
worth taking into account. But Co-operation and Unionism are real
forces, and to pass them over in silence would be to deprive this
lecture of all practical value and interest for such an audience as I
am addressing.
The first thing to be noticed about Co-operation is that the word is
used for two very different things. There is the theory, and there is
the practice. The theory, as you know, is that there should be no
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASSI
7
employer-class, that the workmen should divide the profits of produc
tion amongst themselves, and that whatever management is necessary
should be done by salaried officers and committees. Co-operation,
nowever, in that sense, does not get beyond a theory. The nobleminded men who founded the celebrated mill at Rochdale did indeed
for some years manage to put their principles in practice; but even
their own society at length fell away from them, and began to employ
workmen who were not shareholders at the market-rate of wages;
and I believe there is not in England, at the present moment, a
single co-operative society in which workmen divide the profits
irrespective of their being shareholders. Co-operation, in this sense,
then, may be dismissed from consideration with as little ceremony
as the Socialist and Communist theories before alluded to. Like*
them it supposes a degree of unselfishness and devotion which wedo not find in average men, and it does not attempt to create those
qualities, or supply their place by the only influence that can keep
societies of men for any length erf time to a high standard of
morality, the influence of an organised religion.
The Co-operation which actually exists, and is an important featureof modern industry, is something very different. We must strip it
mercilessly of the credit it borrows from its name, and its supposed
connection with the theory above described. It is nothing more than
an extension of the joint-stock principle. In what respect does the
Rochdale mill differ from any other joint-stock company ? A con
siderable number of its shares are already%eld by persons who do not
work in it, and it is very possible that in course of time all, or most
of the workmen employed in it, will be earning simply the market
rate of wages. A certain number of men, by the exercise of industry,
prudence, and frugality, will have risen from the working class into
the class above. How is the working class the better for that ?
What sort of solution is that for the industrial problem ? We set out
with the inquiry how the working class was to be improved, not how
a few persons, or even many persons, were to be enabled to get out of
it. We want to discover how workmen may obtain a larger share of
the profits of production, and the Rochdale Co-operative Mill, which
pays workmen the market-rate, has certainly not made the discovery.
The world is not to be regenerated by the old dogma of the economists
masquerading in Socialist dress.
The history of Co-operation is this. The noble-minded men who
first preached the theory in. its purity, were deeply impressed with
the immoral and mischievous way in which capital is too often
employed by its possessors,, and instead of inquiring how moral
influence might be brought to bear on capitalists, they leaped to the
conclusion that capitalists as a separate class ought not to exist. In
making this assumption they overlooked the distinction between the-
�8
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OB’ THE WORKING* CLASS!
accidental and the permanent conditions of industry. Collective
activity among men has had two types—the military and the indus
trial, the latter of which has gradually almost superseded the former.
Military organisation has undergone many and great changes, from
the earliest shape in which we find it among savage tribes down to
its most elaborate form in our own time. But its one leading
characteristic has remained unchanged. There has never been a
time when armies weje not commanded by generals with great power
and great responsibility. Wherever there has been the slightest
attempt to weaken that power and diminish that responsibility, there
it is admitted that the army has suffered and the work has been so
much less efficiently done. Whether the soldiers were mere slaves
as in Eastern countries, or free citizens as in the republics of Greece
and Rome and America, or mercenaries fighting for hire as has often
been the case in modern Europe, the principle of management has
always been the same. Discipline was as sharp among the citizen
soldiers of Grant and Sherman as among the conscripts of Frederick
and Napoleon. Such a thing as the co-operative management of an
army has never been heard of.
Now in the other type of collective activity-—the industrial—a
similar organisation has constantly prevailed. The analogy is
striking, and it is not accidental, for the conditions are fundamentally
the same. Fighting and working are the two great forms of activity,
and if you have to organise them on a large scale, it is not strange
that the same method should be found best for both. And workmen
will do well to notice this analogy, and insist on pressing it home to
the utmost of their power; for the more logically it is carried out, the
more striking and overwhelming are the arguments it supplies for
their side of the labour controversy. There is not a phase of that
controversy which it does not illustrate, and invariably to their
advantage. As one instance out of many, I may mention the sanc
tion afforded by military practice for a uniform rate of wages to the
rank-and-file of labour—an argument which was put by one of the
Trades’ Union Inquiry Commissioners to the Secretary of the Master
Builders’ Association, and which completely shut his mouth on that
questioh. But it is for another purpose that I am now referring to
this analogy. Special skill and training, unity of purpose, prompti
tude, and, occasionally, even secrecy, are necessary for a successful
direction of industry just as much as of war. “ A council of war
never fights ” is a maxim which has passed into a proverb, as
stamping the worthlessness of such councils. Yet councils of war
are not composed of private soldiers, but of skilful and experienced
officers. They are more analogous to our boards of railway directors,
whose incapacity, I must admit, does not take exactly that form.
Whether the efficiency of our railway management would be improved
�Khe soUIAIj future of the Working class.
9
by an. infusion of stokers and plate-layers into the direction, I will
leave it to the advocates of Co-operation to say.
Another no less important advantage of the old industrial system
over Co-operation is that it transfers the risk from the workman to
the employer. Capital is the reserved fund which enables the
employer to carry on his business' with due enterprise, and yet
to give a steady rate of wages to the workman. Great as have been
the changes through which industry has passed—^-slavery, serfdom, and
free labour—this fundamental characteristic has remained unaltered.
In all ages of the world, since industry began to be organised at all,
the accumulated savings which we call capital ha^e been in the hands
of comparatively few persons, who have provided subsistence for the
labourer while engaged in production. The employer has borne the
risk and taken the profits. The labourer has had no risk and no
share of the profits. Though in modern times there appears to be
some desire on the part of the master to make the workman share
the risk, he will soon come to see that such a policy destroys the
only justification of capital, and thus strikes at the root of pro
perty itself. The workmen will help him to see this by their com
binations, if he shows any indisposition to open his eyes. It is one
among many ways in which they will teach him in spite of himself
what is for his own good. In point of fact, in the best organised
trade—that of the engineers—the rate of wages is subject to little if
any fluctuation.
The separation, then, between employers and employed, between
capitalist and labourer, is a natural and fundamental condition of
society, characteristic of its normal state, no less than its preparatory
stages. We may alter many things, but we shall not alter that.
We may change our forms of government, our religions, our
language, our fashion of dress, our cooking, but the relation of
employer and employed is no more likely to be superseded in the
future by Communism in any of its shapes, than is another institu
tion much menaced at the present time—that of husband and wife.
It suits human nature in a civilised state. Its aptitude to supply
the wants of man is. such that nothing can compete with it. There
may be fifty ways of getting from Temple Bar to Charing Cross;
but the natural route is by the Strand; and along the Strand the
bulk of the traffic will always lie. ' And so, though we may have
trifling exceptions, the great mass of workmen will always be
employed by capitalists.
Now this was what the founders of Co-operation refused to see;
and in their enthusiasm they fancied they could establish societies,
the shareholders of which would voluntarily surrender to non-share
holders a large part of the profits vhich their capital would naturally
^command. But the shareholders were most of them only average
�10
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
men; they were not enthusiastic, or their enthusiasm cooled as the
money-making habit crept over them. The co-operative theory was
not bound up with any religious system, or supported by any spiritual
discipline ; and they soon fell into the vulgar practice of making the
most of their capital. What is the lesson to be learnt ? Whatever
there was of good in the movement belonged not to the industrial
theory, but to the social spirit of the men who started it. If those
men had been employers, or if any employers had had their spirit,
the workmen would have reaped the same advantages without any
machinery of co-operation. Therefore we must look for improvement, not to this or that new-fangled industrial system, but to the
creation of a moral and religious influence which may bend all in
obedience to duty. When we have created such an influence, we
shall find that it will act more certainly and effectually on a small
body of capitalists than it would on a loose multitudinous mob of
co-operative shareholders.
Before leaving the subject of Co-operation, let me say that, while I
cannot recognise its claims to be the true solution of the industrial
question, I heartily acknowledge the many important services it may
render to the working class. Even as applied to production, in
which I contend it can never play an important part, it will do good
for a time by throwing light On the profits of business. As applied
to distribution in the shape, that is to say, of co-operative stores, its
services can hardly be exaggerated. It not only increases the
comfort of workmen, by furnishing them with genuine goods and
making their money go further, but it gives them dignity and
independence by emancipating them from a degrading load of debt.
Moreover, it sets free, for the purpose of reproduction, a large
amount of labour and capital which had before been wasted in a
badly arranged system of distribution.
If we turn now to the other agency by which the labouring class
in this country is being elevated, I mean Trades Unions, we shall
find more enlightened ideas combined with greater practical utility
Unionism distinctly recognises the great cardinal truth which Co
operation shirks—namely, that workmen must be benefited as work
men, not as something else. It does not offer to any of them
opportunities for raising themselves into little capitalists, but it
offers to all an amelioration of their position. Co-operation is a fine
thing for men who are naturally indefatigable, thrifty, and ambitious
—not always the finest type of character, be it observed in passing—
but it does nothing for the less energetic, for the men who take life
easily, and are content to live and die in the station in which they
were born. Yet these are just the men we want to elevate, for they
form the bulk of the working class. They are in very bad odour
with the preachers of the Manchester school, the apostles of self-help.
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
11
To my mind there is not a more degrading cant than that which
I incessantly pours from the lips and pens of these wretched instructors.
Men professing to be Christians, and very strict Christians too—■
Protestant Christians who have cleansed their faith of all mediaeval
corruptions and restored it according to the primitive model of
apostolic times, when, we are told, “all that believed were together,
and had all things common; and sold their possessions and goods,
and parted them to all men, as every man had need ”—these teachers,
I say, are not ashamed to talk of making money and getting on in
the world, as if it were the whole duty of a working man. Thus it
comes to pass, that while they are bitter opponents and calumniators
of Unionism,1 they patronise Co-operation, because it enables their
model workman to raise himself, as Lord Shaftesbury expressed it
not long ago, “ into a good and even affluent citizen,” a moral eleva
tion to which it is clear a primitive Christian never attained. But
you who are workmen, and have a little practical experience of the
thing, you do not want me or anyone else to tell you that the men
who raise themselves from the ranks are very often not distinguished
by fine dispositions or even by great abilities. What is wanted for
success of that sort is industry, perseverance, and a certain sharpness,
often of a low kind. I am far from saying that those who raise
themselves are not often admirable men ; but you know very well
that they are sometimes very much the reverse—that they are morally
very inferior to the average workman who is content with his posi
tion, and only desires that his work may be regular and his wages
fair. Now the merit of Unionism is that it meets the case of this
average workman. Instead of addressing itself to the sharp, shifty
men, who are pretty certain to take care of themselves in any case,
it undertakes to do the best that can be done for the average man.
And not only so, but it attends to the man below the average in
industry and worthiness: it finds him work, and insists on his
working; it fortifies his good resolutions; it strengthens him
against temptation; it binds him to his fellows;—in short, it
regulates him generally, and looks after him. Nor is even this the
full extent of the difference in this respect between Co-operation and
Unionism. While the benefits of the former are exclusively reaped
by shareholders, the union wins its victories in the interest of nonunionists just as much as of its own members..
I noticed as a fatal error of Co-operation that it regards the relation
of employer and employed as a transient and temporary arrangement
which may and will be superseded, whereas it is permanent, and
(1) “ God. grant that the work-people may be emancipated from the tightest thraldom
they have ever yet endured. AR the single despots, and aU the aristocracies that ever
were or will be, are as puffs of wind compared with these tornadoes of Trades Unions, j
BufeJ^.have small hope. The masses seem to me to have less common-sense than they
had a year ago.”—Zcfter of Lord Shaftesbury to Colonel Maude.
�12
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASSI
destined to survive all attacks. It is an eminent merit of Unionism
that it recognises this important truth. The practical good sense of
workmen has here shown itself superior to all the cleverness of philo
sophers. They have instinctively grasped the maxim that we shall
best serve the cause of progress, whether political or social, by striving
not to displace the actual possessors of power, but to teach them to
use their power for the interests of society.1 And there is this further
advantage of a practical kind, that Unionism is not obliged, like the
schemes of the philosophers, to hover impotently in the air, as a mere
speculative phantom, till such time as it can command the assistance
of the State to get itself tried in practice. A few dozen men can
commence the application of it in their own trade any day they please.
Nor is it a cut-and-dried scheme in which every detail is settled
beforehand with mathematical exactness; it is of infinite elasticity,
and can adapt itself spontaneously to the circumstances of each
case.
I It is desirable that the workman’s wages should be good, but it is
still more desirable that they should be steady. A fluctuating income
in any station of life is, as everyone knows, one of the most demora
lising influences to which a man can be exposed. When an outcry
is raised against the unions because -they maintain that wages ought
not to fall with every temporary depression of trade, it always seems
to me that in so doing they are discharging precisely their most
useful function. I have already alluded to the duty of the capitalist
in this respect, and Unionism supplies exactly the machinery required
for keeping him up to his duty, until a religious influence shall have
been organised which will produce the same result in a more healthy
and normal way. No doubt unions might offend deplorably on their
side against this principle of a steady rate of wages. It is conceivable
that they might screw out of the employer every year or every month
wages to such an amount as would leave him only the bare profit
which would make it worth his while to continue in business. It is
manifest that on those terms he could not amass such a reserve fund
as would enable him to tide over temporary depression without
reducing wages. Every fluctuation in trade would cause a corre
sponding fluctuation in wages, which would vary from month to
month. If Trades Unions were to act in this way they would lose
their principal justification. They are charged with doing so now,
but the charge is perfectly groundless. Probably in no case do they
extract from the employer anything like the wages he could afford
to give if he was disposed. I do not believe that unions, extend them
as you will, will ever be strong enough to put such a pressure on the
employers. I believe that an organised religious influence will here
after induce employers to concede to their men, voluntarily, a larger
(1) Comte Pol. Pos. i. 163 (p. 173 of the translation by Dr. Bridges).
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
13
sh^?e ofxhew profits than any Trades Union could extort from them.
An additional security that unions will never go too far in this direc
tion is to be found in the fact that some masters, whether from larger
capital, greater business ability, or higher reputation, make much
larger profits than others. But unions do not pretend to exact higher
wages from such masters. The tariff, therefore, is evidently ruled by
the profits of the least successful employers.
It might have been supposed at first sight that employers would
have looked with more favour on Unionism, which leaves them in full
possession of their capital, their authority, and their responsibility,
than on Co-operation, which proposes to supersede them altogether.
But, as you all know, the contrary is the case; and there could not
be a more instructive test of the relative efficiency of the two methods.
Unionism maintains that capital has its duties, and must be used for
a social purpose. Co-operation shrinks from asserting a doctrine so
distasteful to the propertied classes, and seeks to evade the necessity
for it by the. shallow fallacy that everyone is to become a capitalist.
Although everyone will not become a capitalist, no doubt some
will, and the net result of the co-operative movement will be that
the army of capitalists will be considerably reinforced in its lower
ranks. Will that army so reinforced be more easy to deal with ?
An exaggerated and superstitious reverence for the rights of property,
and an indifference to its duties, is the chief obstacle to the elevation
of the working class. The fewer the possessors in whose hands
capital is concentrated, the more easy will it be to educate, discipline,
and, if need be, gently coerce them. But when the larger capitalists
have at their back an army of little capitalists, men who have sunk
the co-operative workman in the co-operative shareholder, men who
have invested their three or four hundred pounds in the concern, and
are employing their less fortunate fellow-workmen at the market rate
of wages, why, it stands to reason that the capital of the country will
be less amenable to discipline than ever. A. striking example is to
be seen in France at the present time. You know that the immediate
effect of the old revolution was to put the cultivators in possession of
the soil. A vast number of small proprietors were created. Doubtless
many advantages resulted from that change. France got rid of her
aristocracy once and for good. The cultivators identified themselves
with the revolution which had given them the soil, and defended it
fiercely against the banded sovereigns of Europe. If the people had
not been bribed with the land, the revolution might have been
crushed. But there has been another result from it, of more doubtful
^advantage. The whole of this class of small proprietors is fanatically
devoted to the idea of property; and in their fear that property should
Ue attacked they have thrown their weight on the side of conserfeailSKL and against further political and social progress. The wealthy
�14
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASSI
middle class plays on their ignorance and timidity. All who desire
to initiate the smallest social reform, who express any opinion adverse
to the tyrannical power exercised by capital, are denounced as Com
munists and apostles of confiscation. The small proprietors are
worked up into a frenzy of apprehension, and fling themselves into
the arms of any crafty impostor who talks big words about saving
society. Thus the artizans and small proprietors, men whose interests
must be essentially the same, for they are all alike workmen living by
the sweat of their brow and the labour of their hands, are pitted
against one another, and the middle class alone profits by the dissen
sion. If the manufactures of this country were to get into the hands
of a number of small shareholders, simple workmen would soon find
the rein tighter and the load heavier. Their demand for the repeal
of unjust laws would encounter a more stubborn resistance; the
progress they have been making towards comfort and dignity would
be abruptly checked. Fortunately, as I have already endeavoured to
1 show, there is no likelihood that so-called Co-operation will ever drive
the capitalist employer out of the field.
Such are the reasons for which I hold Unionism to be by far the
most efficient of all the agencies that have as yet been largely advo
cated or put in practice for the purpose of elevating the working
class, and preparing it for its future destinies. The French workmen
have much to teach us ; but I think in this matter they might take
a lesson from our men with advantage. I hope they will signalise
their next revolution—for which, by the way, I am getting rather
impatient—by abolishing all those laws which so iniquitously obstruct
their right to combine. Indeed, Unionism cannot be said to have
had a fair trial in England until it is established in the other
countries of Europe also?
It remains to consider what the destinies are for which our work
men are thus preparing themselves, and to picture to ourselves what
their condition will be when society shall approximate more nearly
to its normal state. We may do so without indulging in Utopias or
extravagant estimates of our capacity to shape the course of human
development, because we are not postulating springs of action in
individuals, which, as a matter of fact, do not exist, or do not exist
in sufficient strength—we are not spinning theories out of a priori
notions of what society ought to be, but we are feeling our way by
an examination, on the one hand, of the permanent facts of our nature,
and the conditions imposed upon us by the external world ; and, on
the other hand, of the steady, continuous progress of society in the
past. And if it has occurred to anyone that I have been a long
time coming to what professed to be the subject of this lecture—
namely, “ the future of the working class ”—I must plead, in justi
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
131
fication, that I have in effect been dealing with it all along, and that
nothing now remains but to give some practical illustrations of the
conclusions already arrived at.
That the position of the workman will ever be as desirable as that
of the wealthier classes seems, as far as we can see, highly impro
bable. Some people are shocked when such a proposition is plainly
enunciated. They have a sort of hazy idea that the external condi
tions of our existence cannot be inconsistent with the perfection and
happiness of man. They have been taught that this is a world
where only man is vile, and it sounds to them immoral to talk as if
there was any insurmountable obstacle to an ideal state of society
except what they are accustomed to term our fallen nature. The
fact is, however, that this is very far from being the best of all
possible worlds, and we must look that fact in the face. Human
society might arrive much nearer perfection, both moral and material,
if there was not so much hard work to be done. It must be done by
some; and those to whom it falls to do it will inevitably have a less
pleasant life than others. But though to annul or entirely alter the
inflnone.es of the world external to ourselves is beyond our humble
powers, we can generally either modify them to some extent, or,
what comes to the same thing, modify ourselves to suit them, if only
successive generations of men address themselves wisely to the task;
just as an individual may by care preserve his health in a pestilential
climate, though he can do little or. nothing to alter the climate.
And so, though there will probably always be much to regret in the
workman’s lot, we may look forward to improvements which will
give him a considerable amount of comfort and happiness. I will
enumerate some of these which we may reasonably expect will be
reached when present struggles are over, and when employers and
workmen alike have learnt to shape their lives and conduct by the
precepts of a rational religion.
Employers, though exercising their own judgment and free action
in their industrial enterprises, will never forget that their first con
cern must be, not the acquisition of an enormous fortune, but the
well-being and comfort of the labourers dependent on them. Hence
there will be an end of that reckless speculation which sports with
the happiness, and even the life, of workmen and their families—
displacing them here, massing them there, treating them, in short,
as mere food for powder in the reckless conflicts of industrial compe
tition. We shall no longer see periods of spasmodic energy and
frantic over-production first in one trade, then in another, followed
by glutted markets, commercial depression, and cessation of employ
ment. For capital being concentrated in comparatively few hands,
it will be possible to employ it with wisdom and foresight for the
general good; which is quite out of the question while the chieftains
�16.
THE SOCIAL .FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
of industry are a disorganised multitude, swaying to and fro in the
markets of the world as blindly and irrationally as a street-mob at a
fire. Thus the workman will be able to count on what is more
precious to him than anything else—steady employment, and an
income which, whether large or small, is, at all events, liable to
little fluctuation. The demoralising effects of uncertainty in this
respect can hardly be overrated. Large numbers of workmen at
present, from no fault of their own, lead as feverish and reckless an
existence as the gambler. When this state of things ceases, we may
look forward with confidence to a remarkable development of social
and domestic virtue among the working class.
To give the workman due independence, he ought to be the owner
of his abode, or, at all events, to have a lease of it. In some
instances at present we find men living in houses belonging to their
employers, from which they can be ejected at a week’s notice. This
_is often the case among colliers and agricultural labourers, and what
grinding tyranny results from it, I need not tell you. It is not
desirable in a healthy, industrial society that labour should be
migratory. Ordinarily, the workman will continue in the same
place, and with the same employer, for long periods, just as is the
habit with other classes. Fixity of abode will naturally accompany
fixity of wages and employment. Here, again, we may expect an
admirable reaction on social and domestic morality.
A diminution of the hours of work is felt by all the best workmen
to be even more desirable than an increase of wages. All of you,
I am sure, have so thoroughly considered this question in all its
bearings, that I am dispensed from dwelling on it at length. I
merely mention it that it may not be supposed I undervalue it. If
the working day could be fixed at eight hours for six days in the
week, and a complete holiday on the seventh, the workman would have
time to educate himself, to enjoy himself, and above all to see more
of his family.
Let us next consider how far the State can intervene to render the
position of the workman more tolerable. That ought to be the
first and highest object of the State, and therefore we need have no
scruple about taxing the other classes of the community to any extent
for this purpose, provided we can really accomplish it.1 But of course
it must be borne in mind that by injudicious action in this direction
(1) As I have had some experience of the criticism (always anonymous) which seizes
a detached passage and draws from it inferences directly excluded by the context, I
desire by anticipation to protest against any quotation of the above sentence apart from
at least the three which immediately succeed it. Taken by itself (although even so it
is guarded by a strictly adequate proviso) it might be misunderstood. In the context
the proviso is carefully and fully expanded into an argument on social grounds against
excessive taxation of the rich. Arguments from the individualist point of view I
entirely reject, as I trust my audience did.
�THE’ SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
• 17
we might easily defeat our own benevolent intentions. For instance,'
it is conceivable that such taxation might become so heavy as to
approximate in effect to the establishment of Communism, and the
springs of industry and frugality, in other words the creation of capital,
would be proportionately affected. Again, the State must not afford
help to workmen in such shape as directly or indirectly to encourage
on the one hand idleness, and on the other a reckless increase of the
population. For example, it must not interfere to lower the price
of food or houses; because common sense and experience alike show
us that such interference would rapidly pauperise the class it was
intended to benefit. But there are, I believe, many ways in which
it may add most materially to the comfort and happiness of the poor
without at all relieving them from the necessity of exercising prudence
and industry. As regards their physical comfort, it may carry out
sanitary regulations on a scale hitherto not dreamt of. It may
furnish them in London, and other large towns, with a copious supply
of good water free of expense. It may provide medical assistance
much more liberally than at present. I would add, it may exercise
a close supervision over the weights and measures of the shopkeepers
and the quality of the goods they supply, did I not hope that the
spread of co-operative stores may render such supervision unnecessary.
The State may also do much to make the lives of the poor brighter
and happier. It may place education within their reach; it may
furnish an adequate supply of free libraries, museums, and picture
galleries; it may provide plenty of excellent music in the parks and
other public places on Sundays and summer evenings.
I think that a London workman in steady employment, earning
such wages as he does now, working eight hours a day, living in
his own house, and with such means of instruction and amusement
as I have described gratuitously afforded him, would not have an
intolerable lot. His position would, it is true, be less brilliant than
that of his employer. But it does not follow that the lot of the
latter would be so very much more desirable. His income, of course,
will be lessened in proportion as his workmen receive a larger share
of the profits of production. He will live in greater luxury and
elegance than they do, but within limits; for public opinion, guided
by religious discipline, will not tolerate the insolent display of
magnificence which at present lends an additional bitterness to the
misery of the poor. His chief pleasure will consist, like that of the
statesman, in the noble satisfaction of administering the interests of
the industrial group over which he presides. But the responsibilities
of this position will be so heavy, the anxiety and the strain on the
mind so severe, that incompetent men will generally be glad to take
the advice that will be freely given them, namely, to retire from it
to some humbler occupation, The workmen, on the other hand.
�18*
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASSI
will lead a tranquil life, exempt from all serious anxiety; and
although their position will be less splendid than that of the
(employers, it will not be less dignified. For in that future to which
I look forward, the pressure of public opinion, directed, as I have
several times said, by an organised religion, will not tolerate any idle
class living by the sweat of others, and affecting to look down on all
who have to gain their own bread. Every man, whether he is rich
or poor, will be obliged to work regularly and steadily in some way
or other as a duty to society; and when all work, the false shame
which the industrious now feel in the presence of the idle will dis
appear for ever. I am addressing an audience, which, whether it
calls itself Republican or not, has, I am sure, a thoroughly Repub
lican spirit, and a keen sense of the insolent contempt with which
labour is regarded by those whose circumstances exempt them from
performing it. You will therefore agree with me that of all the
changes in the workman’s condition which I have enumerated as
likely to be realised in the future, this is by far the most precious—
that his function will be invested with as much dignity as that of
any other citizen who is doing his duty to society.
There are some men who are inclined to be impatient when they
are asked to contemplate a state of things which confessedly will not
be of immediate realisation. They are burning for an immediate
reformation of all wrong in their own time. They think it very poor
work to talk of a golden age which is to bless the world long after
they are dead, buried, and forgotten. They are even inclined to
resent any attempt to interest them in it, as though dictated by a
concealed desire to divert them from practical exertions. “ Tell us,”
they say, “how we may taste some happiness. Why should we
labour in the cause of progress if the fruits are to be reaped only by
posterity ? ”
I do not wish to speak harshly of workmen who have this feeling.
There has been too much of such hypocritical preaching in times
past, and it is not strange if they have become suspicious of exhorta
tions to fix their eyes on a remote future rather than on the present.
So conspicuously unjust is their treatment by the more powerful
classes, so hard and painful is the monotonous round of their daily
life, that the wonder is, not that some men should rebel against it,
but that most should bear it with calmness and resignation. Never
theless, it is necessary to say firmly, and never to cease saying, that
such language as I have alluded to belongs to a low moralityJ
Moreover, it defeats its own object. For whatever may be the case
with individuals, the people will not be stimulated to united action
by arguments addressed to its selfishness. The people can only be
moved to enthusiasm by an appeal to elevated sentiments. If leaders
�THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
19
of the worst causes find it necessary to invest them with some delusive
semblance of virtue that may touch the popular heart, shall we who
have put our hand to the sacred task of helping and accelerating
social progress, shall we deal in cynical sophisms and play on selfish
passions ? We owe it to our race that we should leave this world in
a better state than we found it. We must labour for posterity,
because our ancestors laboured for us. What sacrifices have we to
make compared with some that have been made for us ? We are
not called on to go to the gallows with John Brown and George
William Gordon, the latest martyrs in the cause of labour; or to
mount barricades, like the workmen who flung away their lives in
Paris twenty years ago next month. Is their spirit extinct ? Were
they men of different mould from us ? Or did they enter upon that
terrible struggle on some calculation of their personal advantage ?
No ! but so short a time had wrought them up to an heroic enthu
siasm which made it seem a light thing to pour out their blood if
they might inaugurate a happier future for their class. And shall
we who live in times less stormy, but not less critical for the cause
of labour, shall we complain if the fruits of such small sacrifices as 1
we may make are reserved for another generation ?
The worst of this unworthy spirit is, that the exhibition of it is an
excuse to the self-indulgent and frivolous for their neglect of all
serious thought and vigorous action. One is sometimes ready to
despair of any good coming out of a populace which can fill so many
public-houses and low music-halls ; which demands such dull and
vulgar rubbish in its newspapers; which devours the latest news
from Newmarket, and stakes its shillings and pots of beer as eagerly
as a duke or marquis puts on his thousands. This multitude, so
frivolous and gross in its tastes, will not be regenerated by plying
it with fierce declamation against the existing order of society. You
will more easily move it by appealing to its purer feelings, obscured
but not extinct, than by taunting it with a base submission to class
injustice. The man whose ideas of happiness do not go much beyond
his pipe and glass and comic song, knows that the sour envious
agitator will never be a bit the better off for all the trouble he gives
himself; and he sees nothing to gain by following in his steps. But
there are few men so gross as not to be capable of feeling the beauty
of devotion to the good of others, even when they are morally too
weak to put it in practice. And though a man may lead an un
satisfactory life, it is something if, so far as his voice contributes to
the formation of public opinion, it is heard on’ the right side. This
is the ground we must take if we wish to raise the tone of workmen.
We must place before them, without reserve, the highest motive of
political and social action——the good of those who are to come after
�20
THE SOCIAL FUTURE OF THE WORKING CLASS.
us. We must hold out no prospect of individual advantage or reward
other than the approval of their own consciences.
Those who complain most bitterly of the slow rate of progress
towards an improved industrial state, would sometimes do well to
reflect whether their own conduct does not contribute to retard »
it. The selfish spirit follows us even into our labours for others,
and takes the form of vanity and ambition. Probably all of us have
had frequent occasion to observe how the cause of labour has suffered
from ignoble jealousies and personal rivalries. Yet it is the greatest
spirits who are invariably most ready to.t^ke the subordinate position '
and to accept obscurity with a noble satisfaction. The finest type k
of theocratic government, the lawgiver of the Hebrew nation, was
ready to be blotted out of God’s book, so that the humblest and
lowest, the rank-and-file of his people, might enter the promised
land. The greatest of the apostles wished that he himself might, be
accuised from Christ, if at that price he might purchase salvation for
an obscure mob of Jews. “ Reputation,” said the hero of the French
revolution, “ what is that ? Blighted be my name, but let France
be free.” So speaks a Moses, a Paul, or a Danton, while petty ambi
tions are stickling for precedence, and posturing before the gaze of
their contemporaries. Devotion, forgetfulness of self, a readiness to
obey rather than an eagerness to command—-if a man has not these
qualities he is but common clay, he is not fit to lead his fellows.
Det us school ourselves into a readiness not merely to storm the
breach, but to lie down in the trench, that others may pass over our.
bodies as over a bridge to victory. It is a spirit which has never
been found wanting whenever there has been a great cause to call it
forth; and a greater cause than that of the workman of Europe
advancing to their final emancipation, this world is not likely to see
again.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The social future of the working class: a lecture delivered to a meeting of Trades Unionists, May 7, 1868
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Beesly, Edward Spencer [1831-1915.]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 20 p. ; 23 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Reprinted from Fortnightly Review. "This lecture was the last in a series of three delivered last spring, by request of the London Trades' Council, to meetings convoked by that body. The first two were given by Dr. Congreve and Mr. Frederic Harrison". [p. 1]. Title page brown and paper acidified. Tears at edges of title page. Printed by Virtue & Co., London.
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E. Truelove
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1869
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Labour Movement
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Capitalism
Conway Tracts
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Text
Price One Penny.
THE GENESIS
OF CAPITAL.
*
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF
GABRIEL
BY
DEVILLE,
B.
J.
London :
THE MODERN PRESS, 13, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
1887.
��THE GENESIS OF CAPITAL.
APITAL, considered in its evolution, from its origin to the
destined disappearance that the actual conditions of its
existence show to be imminent, will be the subject of this
series.
Just as nothing remained for chemists since the time of Lavoisier,
but ‘to teach that water was formed by the combination of hydrogen
and oxygen, so my only aim will be to interpret faithfully the work of
the great writer whose profound insight into economic facts first enabled
us to understand them clearly.
The glory of having discovered the origin and growth of capital, with
the elements of which it is composed, is due to Karl Marx. Now that,
thanks to him, we possess the method of analysis, every one may assure
himself of the correctness of his deductions, just as every one may
verify the composition of water. Being a correct description of the
exact truth, the ideas of Marx, as will be quickly seen, may be easily
grasped by every reader,
Therefore when we see a theory of his described as “ that old story of
Marx,” without the shadow of argument, or even with the announcement
that none will be given—and reason good !—we are pretty sure to be
dealing with a blockhead, whose silly and feeble hostility merits nothing
more, under the circumstances, than a scornful shrug of the shoulders.
In stating that my analysis will tally with that of Marx, I know that I
lay myself open to the regular charge brought against Socialists by
bourgeois journalists, the crime of always repeating the same thing ;
but what of that ? We must continue to maintain that two and two
make four, and we are unable to transfer the heart to the right side of
the body, even to please these gentlemen’s whim for change.
Anyhow, if it be true that we seldom change our theories, still less do
our adversaries vary their method of attack. Can anything be more
monotonous than their milk-and-water criticism of us ? It is like the
refrain of a wearisome song repeated over and over again. Whenever
a Socialist speaks or agitates they instantly seize the opportunity of
reiterating the complaint that he has been attacking that “ infamous
capital.” They have found nothing else to say : and this is never
varied. I beg their pardon though ; I am wrong : some put “ infamous
capital ” in italics, others in inverted commas, but that is the only differ
ence ; their imagination has gone no further.
�4
It is not as if the epithet gave a correct impression of the attitude of
Socialists towards capital; unfortunately it does not even do that. The
expression is not only absent from the Socialist vocabulary, but, more
over, being of bourgeois invention, both in substance and in form, it
misrepresents the attitude which it pretends to portray. It misrepresents
it by assuming that Socialists criticise the present state of things from a
sentimental standpoint, whereas they stand exclusively on scientific
ground.
For from the scientific point of view the attitude of goodness or badness,
infamy or merit, is due either to our personal material circumstances, or
to the particular bent of our character; that is a sufficient criterion for
judging the individual; in fact we have only to deal with economic
states, evolved according to laws which we have to determine.
If strict obedience to the laws of the physiology of the human frame
could lead, by suppressing morbid conditions, to the disappearance of
pain, which is the consequence of these conditions, without the feeling
of pain having been taken into consideration in the study of physiology,
we shall see that in the same way, a complete conformity to the economic
laws of the social organism, would result in social health, which would
put an end to the sufferings and injustice which are unquestionably
crushing the masses to-day, without allowing the burning reality of this
last fact to influence the march of events. Therefore our aim thould be
to arrive at a knowledge of economic laws. It will suffice us to know
these laws, but we must know them thoroughly.
Nor does thorough knowledge of these laws—that is to say, of the
relations existing between things, and resulting from their nature—con
sist in confining ourselves to analysing isolated facts, without taking
into account their mutual connection, their constant relation to their
surroundings, and the endless modifications necessarily resulting there
from : in confining ourselves to the study of things separately, and in a
state of rest, though everything in the universe is always in motion.
And what does movement mean but change ?
This, however, is what economists do. According to them, there have
been economic states which were artificial and temporal, but that at
present existing is natural and eternal; in this economists imitate theo
logians, in whose eyes their particular theory is always of divine origin,
while rival religions are merely of human invention.
The means of production and subsistence which embody to-day the
idea of capital are continually confounded by economists with their material
substance; it is as if they maintained that a negro is naturally a slave.
A negro is a negro; it is only in certain definite social conditions that
he becomes a slave. A spinning machine is a spinning machine; it only
becomes capital under fixed social conditions. The idea of capital is
not a natural idea, but purely social; far from being eternal, the
capitalist system is only a phase of economic movement.
After demonstrating that it has not always existed, I shall show that
it is the necessary result of certain historical events. The “ Genesis of
Capital ” shall be the title of this first treatise.
With all economists alike, as the “Dictionary of Political Economy ”
declares, “ the idea of reproduction is firmly allied with that of capital
by common consent the term “ capital ” does not only imply “ acquired
wealth,” but essentially wealth endowed with the “ faculty of repro
duction.” Value, “which multiplies continually,” as the economist
�5
Sismondi says; “ the insatiable greed for gain,” according to one of the
shining lights of bourgeois economy, MacCulloch ; gain for the sake of
gain ; realized gain producing more; this is what is generally implied
by capital.
Therefore the products of labour, as funds which may be used in
industrial employment, owing to this single fact, under the present
normal conditions increase periodically by a certain sum. From this
sum, from this profit, the landlord draws his means of consumption; if
he does not consume all, that which he does not consume is used in its
turn in industrial employment, and in its turn preserves its character by
giving interest; the excess of income over consumption becoming the
source of profit. This produce of labour, these funds, in virtue of this
power of renewing themselves, have the character of capital. On the
contrary the produce of labour which could not be used in industrial
enterprise, which, though suitable for consumption, would remain idle if
not consumed, would not have this character.
This being admitted, we read the following remarks in the “ Dictionary
of Political Economy,” already quoted:—“ There is no difference of
opinion, among economists, concerning the necessity of capital as
auxiliary to labour. From Adam Smith to Rossi, all agree on this
point, that, without the assistance of capital in the work of production,
man can do nothing. . . . Capital is the companion, the necessary
auxiliary to labour, so much so, that we may safely say that without
capital there is no labour. This is true, even with regard to the savage
state, as has always been recognised, where man never hunts without
bow and arrow, or some similar implement.”
Here, then, we have before us two opinions on which, as their diction
ary declares, all economists agree: one explains what is understood by
capital, the other proves the existence of capital ever since the savage
state, and also in that state itself. Socialists admit the first of these, but
they deny that this thing, described by everybody in the same way,
makes its appearance “ in the work of production ” before modern times,
and they deny it on the grounds of its own specific character.
As we have had the savage and his bow given us as an example, let us
examine the bow of the savage. Here is an implement of labour which
helps its owner to support himself, to gain his living ; but the quality
of capital is missing; the wealth of the savage, viz., the means of sub
sistence acquired by his bow, being devoid of all reproductive properties;
he can kill as much game as he pleases, but its excess will only serve to
give him indigestion. But further. Let us imagine a Pangloss of
political economy, possessed of a bow, entering into communication with
a savage in a forest near that country of Eldorado, visited by Candi le,
where the pebbles are gold. It is very probable that the savage would
consent to give gold to possess the bow. Furnished with this gold, under
whose worshipped form capital first presents itself, our economist will
shortly see the necessity of social surroundings other than those of the
savage, in order that the result of his exchange may act as capital, and
become productive. And, if he cannot escape from the economic con
ditions of the savage, he will not be long regretting his bargain ; for
under these conditions a bow enables him, at least, to try to get some
thing to eat, whereas gold is useless.
From the savage state let us pass to ancient communities, before
slavery had become an organised method of production. Founded on
�6
common property, these communities consumed the provisions produced
by their labour, and this produce, divided among their members, was
e nough for all. But even when they exchanged products with the
neighbouring communities, this exchange, which only played an inferior
part in their economy, had simply the satisfaction of their needs in view.
Neither their products nor their means of labour or subsistence, ever
appear as begetters of interest ; so that here again the character of
capital is missing.
The producing power of man was originally very small. So long as
he could not produce more than enough for his needs, one half of society
could not live on the labour of the other half, and slavery could not be
come established. How could a man work gratuitously for others, when
he could barely procure his own means of subsistence ? Under pre ssure
of physical wants, man’s faculties slowly developed. As the result of such
development labour acquired a productiveness, owing to which it was
able to provide for everyone over and above the simple necessaries of
life : and, since that time, a certain number have been able to live on the
labour of others. As soon as it became possible for a privileged class
to exist, a possibility depending from the first upon the productiveness
of labour, this class began to organise itself—and this always by force—
as for instance after a war or a conquest, or the forceable subjection of one
colony by another, and with the increase of productiveness this class
has increased. It is because slavery depends, to a certain extent, on the
productiveness of labour, that we meet with it only in southern regions,
while it loses its importance as we approach the north, where it only
appears, when it appears at all, in a modified form ; for this productive
ness depends, more especially in the earliest stage of civilisation,
upon natural conditions, the fertility of the soil, the profusion
of the means of subsistence, etc., and all the surroundings of the
labourer; and the north being less well endowed in these respects
than the south, slaves produce less and cost more to keep. In the work
of production, under the slave-owning system, we see the implements of
labour, and the means of consumption and of enjoyment, but no capital.
The aim of production was the satisfaction of wants: this satisfac
tion was secured to the master by the absolute possession of slaves, whom
he employed according to their number and the resources at his com
mand, in cultivating the ground, or, it may be, in working mines, and in
various domestic services. What he gained from the labour of his
slaves, he consumed by living more or less grandly, more or less
luxuriously; but this wealth, which was fitted to be an abundant source
of enjoyment, was nothing else ; it could be consumed, but it had no
inherent power of increase ; therefore it was not capital.
This holds good, too, in cases relatively less frequent, where the master
made his slaves work to sell the produce. Instead of being directly
manufactured, his objects of consumption were produced in the shape
of flutes, let us say, which were exchanged for other objects of con
sumption, or for money, the means of procuring these objects. In one
way or another it was in the means of consumption and enjoyment that
the fruits of production were used.
Under the Roman empire, which embraced the world one may say. a
system of production existed differing from the preceding system based
on slavery. The central authority absorbed nearly everything, con
fiscating private fortunes, monopolising implements of labour, directing
�7
trades, regulating all kinds of labour. %In this instance of administrative
communism, where the labourer was drilled into brigades, it is evident
that there could have been no room for the capitalist, but only for
officers.
At the same time various causes combined to diminish slavery. Experi ence having proved that the slave who had the opportunity of saving money
with the hope of freeing himself by means of a third person, who should
first buy him, and to whom he should pay back the purchase price,
worked better, and produced more, the masters’ own interests led them
to facilitate this saving of money, which became a kind of patrimony
for the slave. In this way masters profited by the increased pro
ductiveness of labour, and by the purchase price which they received.
Enfranchisement of slaves also became more common. On another
side the laws relating to the distribution of provisions rather encouraged
such enfranchisements, the masters having thus discovered a means of
obtaining part of the provisions accorded by these laws to freed slaves;
and we must not forget that the latter continued to be bound to their
patrons for certain services.
In the country, in order to stimulate production and to satisfy the
exigencies of • the exchequer, the profits of agriculture contributed to
turn the slaves into settlers, who cultivated the soil and paid a certain
rent. These settlers, neither free men nor slaves, but between the two,
were not allowed to leave the settlement. At length invasions of bar
baric tribes, by encouraging the revolt and escape of slaves, and by making
the security of proprietors doubtful, made this transformation general.
The masters found it to their advantage to parcel out their ground to
their slaves, who were turned into settlers, or serfs, performing certain
prescribed duties.
We can now realise the absurdity of those who persist in maintaining
that the abolition of slavery is due to Christianity. It is due to eco
nomic causes which have gradually led to its disappearance, and re
placed it by serfdom. Neither religion nor fraternity have had anything
to do with it.
In the middle ages, when serfdom prevailed, we find all social rela
tions based on a system of personal dependence, in virtue of which men
stood in various degrees of bondage to other men, with different
obligations to perform, particular duties and services. Beside the serfs
of the glebe, who represented part of the property, the cultivation of the
lands of the lord of the manor was secured by the corvee of beasts and
men, to which the peasants were bound for a variable number of days.
As for industrial labour, it was accomplished by artisan serfs. There
was no kind of service that serfs, peasants, or liege men of the town
were not obliged to render to the lord of the manor, who would not be
satisfied with any special duty incumbent on one or more inhabitants of
the domain under his sovereignty. The master could lead an enjoyable
life, thanks to all the things provided for him, and all the services
rendered; but there was not a trace of capital here, all these means of
enjoyment which he could consume at pleasure being incapable of
multiplying themselves.
Not being content with burdening the town artisans with taxes of all
kinds for their own profit, the barons and their retainers had a habit of
taking things out of the shops whenever they liked. Constant pillaging
went on. Tired of useless complaints, the victims formed a kind of
�s
Bi
I
mutual help society against these robberies. Whenever the men from
the castle entered any shop, all the townsmen following the same trade
were bound by an oath to lend their aid. Constant struggles resulted,
till at last the different trade corporations of a town united for defence.
Owing to this steady resistance, the towns ceased to be attacked. These
energetic risings of the people, occasionally crowned with success, and
the interests of the lords of the soil, led them gradually to agree to barter
for sums of money all their rights and claims.
This money, spent in means of enjoyment, could not by any means
fructify “ in the work of production,” or become, in a word, capital;
there was no possibility of- investment of this kind.
The forming of trades into corporations, at first with a view to mutual
protection, had led to practices, customs, and statutes, which, collected
and codified, became the substance of royal ordinances, and thus pro
duced the laws of corporations. These had their limitations, and de
tailed directions of methods to be used, and rules to be followed; they
fixed salaries, and prices, and conditions of apprenticeship ; regulated
the quality of products, etc., and all this under severe penalties, which
even went so far as the amputation of a hand.
Every master—who was one because his father was one before him ;
or because he had fulfilled the various rules laid down by the statutes in
order to become one ; or, lastly, because he had bought his freedom—
every master was one of a privileged class : it was in virtue of a special
prerogative that he followed his trade, that he was enabled to produce.
But though he was thus privileged, masters of others trades enjoyed
similar privileges, whence the impossibility for a master to enlarge his
production by joining another branch of industry to his own, however
alike the two might be. Again, in his own particular trade he found
himself confronted with masters having exactly the same prerogatives
as himself; thus each master was prevented from employing more than
a certain number of hands. How, then, could the result of production
be made to fructify ?
Supposing one master to gain more than the others, he could not use
his surplus money in producing more for himself, because he could not
increase the number of his hands: for the same reason, that which he
could not do himself he could not do through the agency of another. It
was impossible to increase a sum by investing it in any other master’s
concern, simply because the same limitation of employed producers, and,
consequently, of manufactured products, existed for all.
So, then, production in the middle ages did not allow wealth to multiply
itself in any way,
to become capital. In that sphere of production,
money, excellent for supplying comforts, did not increase if not con
sumed, it was heaped up in view of future consumption, whence the
custom of treasuries so frequent at that time. From this investigation
it becomes sufficiently evident that that which is, according to all
economists, the specific form of capital, did not appear “ in the work of
production ” before the modern era. That which they all agree to be the
characteristic of capital is the “ power of reproducing,” and I think I
have just shown that this reproductive power is not met with in the pro
duction of the savage state, nor in that of early communities, neither in
the production of early ages by means of slavery, nor in that of the
middle ages by means of serfdom ; it is, therefore, a peculiar feature of
the production of to-day, contrary to the opinion, always unanimous, of
�9
economists who, in their universal love of harmony, would do well to
harmonise their own contradictory doctrines.
The quotation given above from the “ Dictionary of Political
Economy,” which sums up the general opinion oi economists, only con
sidered capital employed (this is the exact expression) “ in the work of
production : ;t in my criticism I have done the same, for studying capital
in the sphere of production is the same thing as studying it in its funda
mental form, production being the source of all wealth.
Capitalist production dates from the sixteenth century. In conse
quence of historical changes which I shall speak of presently, production,
as it was carried on in the traditional small work-shop of the master of
the corporation, could no longer suffice to keep pace with the growing
demands of a daily expanding market, this work-shop must be enlarged;
and this enlarging of the corporate work-shop is the starting point of
capitalist production. As the result of circumstances which abolished
the Feudal system, the system of capitalist production follows as an his
torical sequence in the development of productive forces. That it might
become established, it was indispensable to have at the outset an
accumulation of wealth. To develope production it was necessary to
have the means for developing it. The masters of corporations certainly
might have followed the course of events, and become capitalists, only
the general poverty of their means did not allow of their keeeping up at
all with the requirements of the new market. But there were two forms
of capital which could not be used, which appeared under the most
varied economic systems, and which before the modern epoch alone
represented capital, being the only forms in which, before this epoch,
wealth could increase. I mean commercial capital and loan capital.
Although they appear in history before the fundanhental form of capital,
yet these two forms are derived forms of capital. This, at first sight,
may appear strange; and, in order that it ma4 be clearly understood, I
will give an example.
Let us imagine a peasant family cultivating For themselves their bit of
ground, gaining their livelihood by their labour. We have here neither
capital nor capitalist: the means of labour for this family are only the
means of using their productive activity in view of the satisfaction of
their personal wants. But some useful article! they do not produce, and
must therefore buy, and in some cases they need advances, and they
borrow. They sell some of their products towards purchasing, and pay
ing their debts. Their production has only one aim, that of satisfying
their wants, and these are satisfied whether directly by their own produce,
or indirectly by the help of part of their produce exchanged for money,
which to them is simply a means of buying useful articles. So capital
in its fundamental form, capital in production, does not exist here. But
the merchant to whom the peasant producer went, the lender with whom
he had transactions, will make the money received from him fructify,
and will turn it into capital. We see then how commercial capital and
loan capital may be derived from a production where the form of capital
has not yet appeared.
Not to leave this brief survey of the origin of capital too incomplete,
I shall point out the principal phases of the evolution of its first forms
from the time, when, amassed by the meads of commerce and usury, it
helped the birth of capitalist production.
When capital is studied historically from its first appearance, it is
�IO
always in the shape of money that we first see it arise ; and this pheno
menon is equally observable to-day ; at least, it is in this shape that every
new form of capital appears in the market. When it first appears on the
scene at its source of production, where it is exchanged as the direct pro
duct of labour for some other product, money represents in the hands
of its possessors the price of an article sold; they must have sold to
possess the money ; so there must have been circulation of merchandise.
Circulation of merchandise is the starting point of capital. Certain
historical conditions are necessary in order that the produce of labour may
be transformed into merchandise, and that production may be carried on,
not with a view to consumption or use, but to exchange.
With members of primitive communities their products were not mer
chandise, for, though they were divided amongst themsqlves, still there
was no exchange. Exchange began in the relations of one community
with another. Different communities found in their own particular cen
tre different means of production and subsistence, whence the difference
in their conditions of life, and in their produce ; and the intercourse
established between the communities led to the exchange of their mutual
products. The foreign articles acquired by exchange, at first accidentally,
ended by becoming necessary ; the exchange was repeated, and the habit
became a regular custom ; certain things were produced solely with a
view to exchange, and things which, in dealings of the community with
outsiders, had acquired the character of merchandise, kept this character
in dealings of the community with one another.
The number of products which were capable of exchange slowly in
creased. To measure their respective quantities, the two forms of
merchandise to be exchanged were referred to a third. The form of the
standard of value, represented by this third merchandise, vanished with ,
the social circumstances which produced it; and thus, sometimes one
commodity was used, sometimes another, until, when trade had reached
a certain point, one especial species of merchandise was used, and this
became money.
From this time commerce grew. It was especially maritime commerce
that produced accumulation of wealth in ancient times; this commerce
was centred in certain towns favoured by their geographical position, to
which they were indebted for monopolies which brought them wealth,
and thus enabled them to increase their traffic. I will give as an example
the far-famed commercial city of ancient times, Tyre, called the queen
of the seas. Her shores abounded in those shells from which the best
purple was prepared, and we know the estimation attached to purple by
the ancients. Owing to this natural monopoly riches flowed into Tyre ;
and this enabled her to multiply her maritime and commercial transac
tions, to found prosperous colonies, and to fetch from a distance the
coveted products of foreign lands, the sale of which, thus becoming also
her exclusive privilege, contributed still more to her wealth.
All that the masters drew from the labour of their slaves was, as we
have seen, the means of consumption and enjoyment; but a good many
of them, after having consumed all the profits of this labour, borrowed,
to indulge their expensive tastes and extravagant habits, and so swelled
the fortuues of traffickers in merchandise and gold. As a witness to
this fact that the ancients borrowed with a view to consumption I may
quote Plutarch : “ If people would content themselves with what was
necessary, there would be no more usurers than there are centaurs.”
�11
I should add that in Rome owing to peculiar circumstances the chief
reason for loans was to obtain necessaries. The citizens were soldiers ;
in times of war the lands of the rich continued to be cultivated by their
slaves, while the poor man was obliged to leave his field untilled. The
campaign over, patricians holding commissions in the army came back
loaded with the spoils of the conquered, which they had bestowed upon
themselves, to find their lands well cultivated, and in full bearing ; the
plebeian found his piece of ground lying waste and useless ; and ruined
in this way through military service, he was forced to borrow in order to
live, and be able to begin cultivating over again.
These debts became so heavy that insurrections followed, and
struggles constantly renewed between creditors and debtors. In the
early part of the middle ages, after the incursions of tribes out of
Central Asia and Germany, production was very limited, the business of
transporting small amounts of products was perilous owing to the
difficulty of communication, aggravated by constant plunder. Each
district organised itself as much as possible for the production of its
own necessaries, and exchange was only carried on in a narrow circle.
To effect exchanges with outsiders certain centres were chosen, whither
the people repaired in numbers at fixed periods; this was the origin of
fairs, sprung from the material conditions of life at that time.
By degrees came intervals of peace in the life of these war-like
people ; conflicts became less frequent, without ceasing altogether, and
disorder no longer reigned supreme. Unoccupied in their domains
during these intervals of relative calm, the cavaliers devoted themselves
to all kinds of warlike games, jousts, and tournaments. Every one
wished to excel in them ; luxury in armour, jewels, texture, etc., grew;
wants multiplied ; town industries were developed ; with this larger pro
duction commerce widened, and its progress reacted on production, and
hastened its development.
At the fall of the Roman Empire the results of the ancient order of
things were found to survive most successfully in Italy. She inherited
the legacy of the old civilisations; and having been longer trained in
their customs, she retained their memory the longest. Her products
felt the effects of this; they were better, and in consequence more in
demand ; they were exported by way of the sea more safely than by the
land, which was infested with pillaging armies ; thus her commerce
enriched chiefly her towns in the Mediterranean, whose maritime situa
tion was the reason that permanent fairs were held there. The begin
nings of social revival also first appeared in these towns. Pisa, Naples,
Amalfi, formed free communities when the rest of Europe was under the
yoke of tyranny, and during the darkest years of the middle ages their
vessels furrowed all seas, owing chiefly to the compass, which, though
it had been discovered some time, was not in general use in Europe till
this period. Other cities followed in their footsteps. Venice and Genoa
also enriched themselves by conveying pilgrims and crusaders. While
the crusaders relieved the country of a large number of robbers and
highwaymen, they helped to free the cities, the communities, and the
serfs by means of financial operations, the barons turning everything
into money and pledging even their estates to procure the funds indis
pensable to these distant expeditions. On the other hand they brought
these rude nobles into contact with Eastern manners, and refined their
taste, they brought back notions of niceness, ignored till then, and ideas
�12
of costly elegance. On their return thej’’ were more than ever dependent
on the Italian cities, whose ships went to fetch from Egyptian ports and
from the shores of the Black Sea, spices, perfumes, gems, costly stuffs,
and all the merchandise in fashion in the Levant. Money—money
which their commerce rapidly increased—flowed into those cities which
united industrial supremacy with their commercial and maritime power.
To the enormous gains of their world-wide commerce, their chief
merchants and bankers added the profits of usury, they lent to the
kings of Europe ; by means of their wealth they reigned in the retirement
of their counting-houses ; from one of these merchant families two sons
were raised to the Papacy, Leo X. and Clement VIE, and two daughters
became Queens of France, Catherine and Marie de Medicis.
Among the causes of this extraordinary accumulation of capital in
Italy we must mention the Papacy, which by its fraudulent trade in
indulgences and dispensations, and by its Peter’s Pence procured an
*
enormous revenue.
And what helps to support the economic materialism of Marx, and
shows that the material conditions of life are the cause of the different
social phenomena, is the fact that this prosperity of Italy! gave birth to
the Renaissance of art, and its imperishable chefs d’auvre. In the midst
of this magnificence intellectual power ripened into wonderful perfection.
But this prosperity excited envy ; her riches and the enjoyments of life
which they allowed, made Italy a tempting prey, upon which the Euro
pean monarchies threw themselves in their passion for wealth.
Nevertheless it was not these political events that deprived Italy of
her capitalist supremacy, however important may have been their con
sequences. The taking of Constantinople by the Turks, in 1453, dealt a
terrible blow to the dominion of Venice, at that time the first commercial
city of Italy, and indeed of the world. Italy retired from the Bosphorus
to the Adriatic, and her downfall, which was signified by this retreat,
was to be completed by the two great discoveries at the end of the 15th
century.
By doubling the Cape of Gtood Hope in 1497 Vasco di Gama opened
a new way to commerce; and in 1492 and 1498 Christopher Columbus
gave it a new world; but Italy found herself thenceforth out of the run
of fortune. The centre of activity was changed, and passed from the
towns on the Mediterranean to the towns of the Atlantic.
The new openings in the East and in America, the forming of colonies
and the increase of merchandise gave considerable scope to commerce
and navigation. Fresh opportunities of exchange were the result, which
led on the one hand to the depreciation of the land revenues of the nobles,
andon the other increased the wealth of the bourgeoisie ; the commercial
and industrial class, the bourgeois element, became more and more
developed, at the expense of the old Feudal system which it replaced.
The nobles on their side hurried on this work of dissolution. They had
* “Peter’s Pence ” was a tax levied on all families possessed of thirty pence yearly
rent in land, out of which they paid one penny, and was so called because paid on the
feast of St. Peter. It was claimed by the Popes as a tribute from England, and regu
larly collected till suppressed by Henry VIII. It had been originally presented for the
endowment of an English College in Rome.
f But compare page 17 of the “ Summary of the Principles of Socialism,” by
H. M. Hyndman and William Morris.—Ed.
�*3
begun to pledge their estates at the time of the crusades, and their un
bridled love of luxury, fine horses, splendid armour, sumptuous houses,
brilliant fetes, and amusements of all kinds, led them to continue this sys
tem, and they cared less and less to liberate their pledged property ; while
usury was carried on at their expense by Jews and Lombards, under the
form of pawnbroking and mortgaging. In short from the 14th century
they gradually alienated their estates, and at length the extensive im
portation of precious metals from America depreciated still more landed
fortunes, and contributed to the ruin of the feudal debtor, whose political
power declined as the economic basis which had supported it became
•feebler, for it was based upon landed property, involving personal rela
tions of domination and dependence.
We must not forget that the use of gunpowder and firearms had dealt
a serious blow to the feudal system by taking away its social function.
Supported by his serfs and liege men, the noble fought to defend them
against the extortions of strangers ; with the invention of artillery the
cavaliers cased in iron ceased to be a necessary rampart; the art of war
changed, and consequently the corporation of the nobility lost its useful
ness, and its ancient power was undermined.
All discoveries, all changes, which involved expansion of the market
and lessening the costs of transport, immeasurably accelerated produc
tion. Production must be increased to keep pace with growing wants,
and from this increase, occasioned by the creation of the market of the
two worlds in the 16th century, dates the history of capitalist production,
of which only the first faint beginnings had been traced in some of the
Italian towns.
But that production might increase, pecuniary means were necessary ;
and the feudal constitution of the country, and the corporate regime of
the towns were opposed to the transformation of capital in money form,
amassed by the twofold practice of commerce and usury, into industrial
capital. These barriers, becoming less solid with the relaxation of
feudal ties, caused by the phenomena shortly stated above, yielded in
many points to the force of necessity.
Kings multiplied pretexts, not altogether disinterestedly J for the creation
of masters in the corporations; they granted privileges to individuals
for the purchase and sale of certain products; they suppressed various
charges which burdened commerce, etc., and thus surmounted the
obstacles which the organisation of craft-guilds held out to the extension
of production. It was in this way that commercial capital and capital
by usury were developed, and in this way they prepared the way for the
capitalist era, properly speaking. To wind up my sketch of the evo
lution of these two forms of capital, I must add a few words.
Commercial and maritime supremacy passed at first from Italy to
Portugal, to whom the way to India, discovered by Vasco di Gama,
promised splendid possessions in Africa, and still more in Asia. Portu
gal overflowed with riches, but it was quickly supplanted by Spain, to
whom Christopher Columbus had given America; in 1580, Portugal
became a province of Spain.
In revolt against Philip II, who had crowned himself king of Portugal,
the Dutch established themselves with complete success upon the ruins
of the power of the Portuguese and Spaniards. These had founded their
dominion upon conquest: Holland was the first nation which developed
industrial capital simultaneously with commerce and navigation, and she
became the most opulent power of the world.
�14
When William III, Prince of Orange, was raised to the throne of
England in 1689, the Dutch nation with its capital and its men turned
towards this last country, and economic supremacy passed with them to
England who has since retained it.
The United States of America imagine they will subordinate her to
the office to which she has subordinated Holland, of being simply the
distributor of American products; whether they will succeed or not the
future will show.
We have now examined the growth of capital in its fundamental form,
and the growth of bourgeois industrialism, which necessarily arose in the
historical evolution, in order to develope the means of production, and
adapt them to the supply of a larger market: for the small work-shop of the
master of the corporation had to be enlarged, and at first the difference
was merely in quantity. We have seen whence came the funds indis
pensable to this enlargement, but other conditions were necessary, before
the larger work-shops could be used : for besides the means of labour,
labourers must be forthcoming. I shall examine in my next sketch, the
historical movement which changed the immediate producers into the
proletariat, I shall then touch on the different phases of capitalist pro
duction, co-operation, social machinery, and associated labour; and I
shall thus arrive at the present time, where the forces of production are
tending to destroy the economic conditions which produced them.
Once more, after studying the creation of the class destined to carry
into effect the means of operation of which I have traced the origin, I
shall take our method of production from the point where I leave it to
day, at its birth. I shall trace it in its evolution, prove that it is
approaching its dissolution, and show, by means of the very symptoms
which foretells its end, that its dissolution will evolve the constitutive
elements of a superior social organisation, where the means of produc
tion, being socialised, will no longer be clothed in this form of capital,
which they began to assume#nearly 400 years ago.
The continual change in the development of productive forces
necessarily brings with it modifications in the relations of production,
that is to say, in the manner of living; and the social relations depend
ing upon this must, evidently, be transformed that they may be adapted
to the changes in the relations of production : they are, consequently,
bound to change at the same time as the change in the productive forces.
Socialisation of the means of production, collective appropriation, which
is the basis of our theory, presents itself therefore, not as the original
conception of brains impassioned for justice, but as the scientific definition
of the end towards which economic phenomena are taking us whether we
will or no. x\s long as the state of the powers of production was such that
the material conditions demanded by the new society had not yet appeared,
those whose dream has been to remedy the misery of the lower classes
have been reduced to extemporising systems, and have fallen into
utopianism ; but the producing forces of to-day have attained a develop
ment which substitutes for the generous but unscientific speculations 01
the mind, the study of the changes in progress and the relations which
depend upon them. Collective superintendence of production and ex
change, formerly the ideal of certain brains, an institution with no
foundation, is at present an historical necessity, material facts tending
inevitably towards its realisation.
Between the social conditions reserved for us by its realisation, and
�i5
the actual conditions of to-day, there stands nothing but the denseness
of bourgeois stupidity; the obstacle is enormous I admit, but it is not
insurmountable. Were the bourgeois class aware of their true interests,
they would facilitate a transformation, by retarding which they are
ruining their own supports, and exhausting, as Marx has it, the two
sources from which all wealth springs, the soil and the labourer. Ifi
this the bourgeois class resemble the animal mentioned by our great prose
writer, Gustave Flaubert, in his “Temptation of St. Anthony,” which was
so supremely stupid, that it devoured its own paws without being aware
of it.
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�Socialism and Soldiering ;
with some comments on the
Army Enlistment Fraud. By George Bateman (Late 23rd Regi
ment), with Portrait. With an introduction by H. H. Champion
(Late Royal Artillery). Price One Penny.
The Working Man’s Programme
(Arbeiter Pro-
gramm). By Ferdinand Lassalle. Translated from the German
by Edward Peters. Crown 8-vo., paper cover, price 6d.
The Robbery of the Poor.
By W. H. P. Campbell.
Demy 8-vo., paper cover, price 6d.
The Appeal to the Young.
By
Prince Peter
Kropotkin. Translated from the French by H. M. Hyndman and
reprinted from Justice. Royal 8-vo., 16-pp. Price one penny.
The most eloquent and noble appeal to the generous emotions ever penned by a
scientific man. Its author has just suffered five years’ imprisonment at rhe hands of the
French Republic for advocating the cause of the workers
Wage-Labour and Capital.
From the German of
Karl Marx translated by J. L. Joynes and reprinted from Justice.
New and cheaper edition, Royal 8-vo., price id.
By Edward Carpenter—Social
Progress and Indi
The Man with the Red Flag I
Being John Burns’
vidual Effort; Desirable Mansions; and Co-operative Production.
One penny each.
Speech at the Old Bailey, when tried for Seditious Conspiracy, on
April 9th, 1886. (From the Verbatim Notes of the official short
hand reporter.) With Portrait. Price threepence.
The Socialist Catechism.
with additions from Justice.
By J. L. Joynes. Reprinted
Demy 8-vo., price id. 20th thousand.
Socialism and Slavery.
By H. M. Hyndman.
(In
reply to Mr. Herbert Spencer’s article on “ The Coming Slavery.”)
New Edition, with portrait. 16 pp. Royal 8-vo., price one penny.
The Fmigration Fraud Exposed.
By
What an Eight Hours Bill Means.
By T. Mann
H.
M.
Hyndman. With a Portrait of the Author. Reprinted by per
mission from the Nineteenth Century for February, 1885. Crown 8-vo.,
price one penny.
(Amalgamated Engineers). New edition with portrait.
Thousand. Price one penny.
Socialism and the Worker.
Price id.
By F.
A.
Sixth
Sorge.
An explanation in the simplest language of tne main idea of Socialism.
The Chicago Riots and the Class War in the
United States. By H. M. Hyndman. Reprinted
from Time, June, 1886.
Price one penny.
International Trade Union Congress, held at
August, 1886. Report by Adolphe Smith.
Price Three-Halfpence.
Paris,
24-pp., Royal 8-vo.
�
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The genesis of capital
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Deville, Gabriel [Writer on Political Economy.]
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Place of publication: London
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The Modern Press
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1887
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Capitalism
Socialism
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Capitalism
Socialism
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NatiONALSECULa
THE
Dope of Hu; ggntitrfr
BY
COLONEL R. G. INGERSOLL
“ SOCIALISM seems to be one of the worst possible forms of slavery.
Nothing in my judgment would so utterly paralyse all the forces, all
the splendid ambitions and aspirations that now tend to the civilisa
tion of man. In ordinary systems of slavery there are some
masters—a few are supposed to be free; but in a Socialistic state
all would be slaves."—Page 14.
PRICE ONE PENNY.
LONDON:
R. FOLDER, 28, STONECUTTER STREET, E.C.
1887
�I
<i
i
I
�NEW PARTY is struggling for recognition—a party
with leaders who are not politicians, with followers
who are not seekers after place. Some of those who1
suffer and some of those who sympathise have combined.
Those who feel that they are oppressed are organised for
the purpose of redressing their wrongs. The workers for
wages, and the seekers for work, have uttered a protest.
This party is an instrumentality for the accomplishment of
certain things that are very near and very dear to the hearts
of many millions.
The object to be attained is a fairer division of profits'be
tween employers and employed. There is a feeling that in
some way the workers should not want—that the indus
trious should not be the indigent. There is a hope that'
men and women and children are not forever to be the
victims of ignorance and want—that the tenement-house is
not always to be the home of the poor, nor the gutter the
nursery of their babes.
As yet, the methods for the accomplishment of these .aims
have not been agreed upon. Many theories have been ad
vanced, and none has been adopted. The question is so
vast, so complex, touching human interests in so many
ways, that no one has yet been great enough to furnish a
solution, or, if anyone has furnished a solution, no one else
has been wise enough to understand it.
The hope of the future is that this question will finally
be understood. It must not be discussed in anger. If A
broad and comprehensive view is to be taken, there is
no place for hatred or for prejudice. Capital is not td
blame. Labor is not to blame. Both have been caught
in the net of circumstances. The rich are as generous'
as the poor would be if they should change places. Men
acquire through the noblest and the tenderest instincts.
They work and save not only for themselves, but for1
their wives and for their children.
There is but little'
confidence in the charity of the world. The prudent man',
in his youth makes preparation for his age. The loving
father, having struggled himself, hopes to save his childrefi1
from drudgery and toil.
�( 4 )
In every country there are classes—that is to say, the
spirit of caste, and this spirit will exist until the world is
truly civilised. Persons in most communities are judged
not as individuals, but as members of a class. Nothing is
more natural, and nothing more heartless. These lines
that divide hearts on account of clothes or titles are grow
ing more and more indistinct, and the philanthropists, the
lovers of the human race, believe that the time is coming
when they will be obliterated. We may do away with
kings and peasants, and yet there may still be the rich and
the poor, the intelligent and foolish, the beautiful and
deformed, the industrious and idle, and, it may be, the
honest and vicious. These classifications are in the nature
of things. They are produced for the most part by forces
that are now beyond the control of man—but the old rule,
that men are disreputable in the proportion that they are
useful, will certainly be reversed. The idle lord was always
held to be the superior of the industrious peasant, the
devourer better than the producer, and the waster superior
to the worker.
While in this country we have no titles of nobility, we
have the rich and the poor—no princes, no peasants, but
millionaires and mendicants. The individuals composing
these classes are continually changing. The rich of to-day
may be the poor of to-morrow, and the children of the poor
may take their places. In this country the children of the
poor are educated substantially in the same schools with
those of the rich. All read the same papers, many of the
same books, and all for many years hear the same questions
discussed. They are continually being educated, not only
at schools, but by the press, by political campaigns, by
perpetual discussions on public questions, and the result is
that those who are rich in gold are often poor in thought,
and many who have not whereon to lay their heads have
within those heads a part of the intellectual wealth of the
world.
Years ago the men of wealth were forced to contribute
toward the education of the children of the poor. The
support of schools by general taxation was defended on the
ground that it was a means of providing for the public
welfare, of perpetuating the institutions of a free country
by making better men and women. This policy has been
pursued until at last the school-house is larger than the
church, and the common people through education have
become uncommon. They now know how little is really
�( 5 )
known by what are called the upper classes—how little
after all is understood by kings, presidents, legislators, and
men of culture. They are capable not only of understand
ing a few questions, but they have acquired the art of
discussing those that no one understands. With the facility
of politicians they can hide behind phrases, make barricades
of statistics, and chevaux-de-frise of inferences and asser
tions. They understand the sophistries of those who have
governed.
In some respects these common people are the superiors
of the so-called aristocracy. While the educated have been
turning their attention to the classics, to the dead languages,
and the dead ideas and mistakes that they contain—while
they have been giving their attention to ceramics, artistic
decorations, and compulsory prayers, the common people
have been compelled to learn the practical things—to be
come acquainted with facts—by doing the work of the
world. The professor of a college is no longer a match for
a master mechanic. The master mechanic not only under
stands principles, but their application. He knows things
as they are. He has come in contact with the actual, with
realities. He knows something of the adaptation of means
to ends, and this is the highest and most valuable form of
education. The men who make locomotives, who construct
the vast engines that propel ships, necessarily know more
than those who have spent their lives in conjugating Greek
verbs, looking for Hebrew roots, and discussing the origin
and destiny of the universe.
Intelligence increases wants. By education the necessities
of the people become increased. The old wages will not
supply the new wants. Man longs for a harmony between
the thought within and the things without. When the soul
lives in a palace, the body is not satisfied with rags and
patches. The glaring inequalities among men, the differ
ences in condition, the suffering and the poverty, have
appealed to the good and great of every age, and there has
been in the brain of the philanthropist a dream—a hope, a
prophecy, of a better day.
It was believed that tyranny was the foundation and
cause of the differences between men—that the rich were
all robbers and the poor all victims, and that if a society
or government could be founded on equal rights and privi
leges, the inequalities would disappear, that all would have
food and clothes and reasonable work and reasonable leisure,
and that content’wonld be found by every hearth.
�( 6 )
There was a reliance on nature—an idea that men had
interfered with the harmonious action of great principles
v^hich, if left to themselves, would work out universal well
being for the human race. Others imagined that the in
equalities between men were necessary—that they were
part of a divine plan, and that all would be adjusted in
some other world—that the poor here would be the rich
there, and the rich here might be in torture there. Heaven
became the reward of the poor, of the slave, and hell theif
revenge.
When our government was established, it was declared
that all men are endowed by their creator with certain in
alienable rights, among which were life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness. It was then believed that if all men
had an equal opportunity, if they were allowed to make
and execute their own laws, to levy their own taxes, the
frightful inequalities seen in the despotisms and monarchies
of the Old World would entirely disappear. This was the
dream of 1776. The founders of the government knew how
kings, and princes, and dukes, and lords, and barons had
lived upon the labor of the peasants.
They knew the
history of those ages of want and crime, of luxury and
suffering. But in spite of our Declaration, in spite of our
Constitution, in spite of universal suffrage, the inequalities
still exist. We have the kings and princes, the lords and
peasants, in fact, if not in name. Monopolists, corporations,
capitalists, workers for wages, have taken their places, and
we are forced to admit that even universal suffrage cannot
clothe and feed the world.
For thousands of years men have been talking and writing
about the great law of supply and demand—and insisting
that in some way this mysterious law has governed and will
continue to govern the activities of the human race. It is
admitted that this law is merciless—that when the demand
fails, the producer, the laborer, must suffer, must perish—
that the law feels neither pity nor malice—it simply acts,
regardless of consequences. Under this law, capital will
employ the cheapest. The single man can work for less
than the married. Wife and children are luxuries not to
be enjoyed under this law. The ignorant have fewer wants
than the educated, and for this reason can afford to work
for less. The great law will give employment to the single
and to the ignorant in preference to the married and in
telligent. The great law has nothing to do with food or
clothes, with filth or crime. It cares nothing for homes,
�( 7 )
for penitentiaries or asylums. It simply acts—and some
men triumph, some succeed, some fail, and some perish.
Others insist that the curse of the world is monopoly.*
And yet, as long as some men are stronger than others, a$'
lofag as some are more intelligent than others, they must be,
to the extent of such advantages, monopolists. Every matt
Of genius is a monopolist.
We are told that the great remedy against monopoly—
that is to say, against extortion—is free and unrestricted
competition. But, after all, the history of this world showia
that the brutalities of competition are equalled only by
those of monopoly. The successful competitor becomes a
monopolist, and if competitors fail to destroy each other^
the instinct of self-preservation suggests a combination. In
other words, competition is a struggle between two or more
persons or corporations for the purpose of determining
which shall have the uninterrupted privilege of extortion.
In this country the people have had the greatest reliance
on competition. If a railway company charged too much, a
rival road was built. As a matter of fact, we are indebted,
for half the railroads of the United States to the extortions
of the other half, and the same may truthfully be said of
telegraph lines. As a rule, while the exactions of monopoly
constructed new roads and new lines, competition has either
destroyed the weaker, or produced the pool which is a means
of keeping both monopolies alive, or of producing a new
monopoly with greater needs, supplied by methods more
heartless than the old. When a rival road is built, the
people support the rival because the fares and freights are
somewhat less. Then the old and richer monopoly inaugu
rates war, and the people, glorying in the benefits of com
petition, are absurd enough to support the old. In a little
while the new company, unable to maintain the contest,
left by the people at the mercy of the stronger, goes to the
wall, and the triumphant monopoly proceeds to make the
intelligent people pay not Only the old price, but enough in
addition to make up for the expenses of the contest.
Is there any remedy for this? None, except With the
people themselves. When the people become intelligent
enough to support the rival at a reasonable price; when
they know enough to allow both roads to live ; when they
are intelligent enough to recognise a friend and to stand by
that friend as against a known enemy, this question will be
at least on the edge of solution.
�( 8 )
So far as I know, this course has never been pursued
except in one instance, and that is in the present war be
tween the Gould and Mackey cables. The Gould system
had been charging from sixty to eighty cents a word, and
the Mackey system charged forty. Then the old monopoly
tried to induce the rival to put the prices back to sixty.
The rival refused, and thereupon the Gould combination
dropped to twelve and a half, for the purpose of destroying
the rival. The Mackey cable fixed the tariff at twenty-five
cents, saying to its customers, “ You are intelligent enough
to understand what this war means. If our cables are
defeated, the Gould system will go back not only to the old
price, but will add enough to reimburse itself for the cost of
destroying us. If you really wish for competition, if you
desire a reasonable service at a reasonable rate, you will
support us.” Fortunately, an exceedingly intelligent class
of people does business by the cables. They are merchants,
bankers, and brokers, dealing with large amounts, with
intricate, complicated, and international questions. Of
necessity they are used to thinking for themselves. They
are not dazzled into blindness by the glare of the present.
They see the future. They are not duped by the sunshine
of a moment or the promise of an hour. They see beyond
the horizon of a penny saved. These people had intelli
gence enough to say, “ The rival who stands between us
and extortion is our friend, and our friend shall not be
allowed to die.”
Does not this tend to show that people must depend upon
themselves, and that some questions can be settled by the
intelligence of those who buy, of those who use, and that
customers are not entirely helpless ?
Another thing should not be forgotten, and that is this:
there is the same war between monopolies that there is
between individuals, and the monopolies for many years
have been trying to destroy each other. They have uncon
sciously been working for the extinction of monopolies.
These monopolies differ as individuals do. You find among
them the rich and the poor, the lucky and the unfortunate,
millionaires and tramps. The great monopolies have been
devouring the little ones.
Only a few years ago the railways in this country were
controlled by local directors and local managers. The
people along the lines were interested in the stock. As a
consequence, whenever any legislation was threatened hos
tile to the interests of these railways, they had local friends
�( 9 )
who used their influence with legislators, governors, and
juries. During this time they were protected, but when
the hard times came many of these companies were unable
to pay their interest. They suddenly became Socialists.
They cried out against their prosperous rivals. They felt
like joining the Knights of Labor. They began to talk
about rights and wrongs. But in spite of their cries, they
have passed into the hands of the richer roads—they were
seized by the great monopolies. Now the important rail
ways are owned by persons living in large cities or in foreign
countries. They have no local friends, and when the time
comes, and it may come, for the general government to say
how much these companies shall charge for passengers and
freights, they will have no local friends. It may be that
the great mass of the people will then be on the other side.
So that after all the great corporations have been busy
settling the question against themselves.
Possibly a majority of the American people believe to-day
that in some way all these questions between capital and
labor can be settled by constitutions, laws, and judicial de
cisions. Most people imagine that a statute is a sovereign
specific for any evil. But while the theory has all been one
way, the actual experience has been the other—just as the
free-traders have all the arguments and the protectionists
most of the facts.
The truth is, as Mr. Buckle says, that for five hundred
years all real advance in legislation has been made by re
pealing laws. Of one thing we must be satisfied, and that
is, that real monopolies have never been controlled by law,
but the fact that such monopolies exist is a demonstration
that the law has been controlled. In our country, legis
lators are for the most part controlled by those who, by
their wealth and influence, elect them. The few in reality
cast the votes of the many, and the few influence the ones
voted for by the many. Special interests, being active, se
cure special legislation, and the object of special legislation
is to create a kind of monopoly—that is to say, to get some
advantage. Chiefs, barons, priests and kings ruled, robbed,
destroyed and duped; and their places have been taken by
corporations, monopolists and politicians. The large fish
still live on the little ones, and the fine theories have as yet
failed to change the condition of mankind.
Law in this country is effective only when it is the re
corded will of a majority. When the zealous few get con
trol of the legislature, and the laws are passed to prevent
�( 10 )
Sabbath-breaking or wine-drinking, they succeed only in
putting their opinions and provincial prejudices in legal
phrase. There was a time when men worked from fourteen
to sixteen hours a day. These hours have not been les
sened, they have not been shortened by law. The law has
followed and recorded, but the law is not a leader and not
a prophet. It appears to be impossible to fix wages—just
as impossible as to fix the values of all manufactured
things, including the works of art. The field is too great,
the problem too complicated, for the human mind to grasp.
To fix the value of labor is to fix all values—labor being
the foundation of all values. The value of labor cannot be
fixed unless we understand the relation that all things bear
to each other and to man. If labor were a legal tender—if
a judgment for so many dollars could be discharged by so
many days of labor—and the law was that twelve hours of
work should be reckoned as one day, then the law could
change the hours to ten or eight, and the judgments could
be paid in the shortened days. But it is easy to see that in
all contracts made after the passage of such a law, the diff
erence in hours would be taken into consideration.
We must remember that law is not a creative force. It
produces nothing. It raises neither corn nor wine. The
legitimate object of law is to protect the weak, to prevent
violence and fraud, and to enforce honest contracts, to the
end that each person may be free to do as he desires, pro
viding only that he does not interfere with the rights of
others.
Our fathers tried to make people religious by law.
They failed. Thousands are now trying to make people
temperate in the .same manner. Such efforts always have
been, and probably always will be, failures. People who
believe that an infinite God gave to the Hebrews a perfect
code of laws, must admit that even this code failed to civil
ise the inhabitants of Palestine.
It seems impossible to make people just, or charitable, or
industrious, or agreeable, or successful, by law, any more
than you cam make them physically perfect or mentally
sound. Of course, we admit that good people intend to
make good laws, and that good laws, faithfully and honestly
executed, tend to the preservation of human rights and to
the elevation of the race ; but the enactment of a law not
in accordance with a sentiment already existing in the
minds and hearts of the people—the very people who are
depended upon to enforce this law—is not a help, but a
hindrance.
A real law is but the expression in an authori-
�(11)
ttitive and accurate form of the judgment and desire of the
majority. As we become intelligent and kind, this intelli
gence and kindness find expression in law.
But how is it possible to fix the wages of every man ? To
fix wages is to fix prices, and a government, to do this in
telligently, would necessarily require the wisdom generally
attributed to an infinite being. It would have to supervise
and fix the conditions of every exchange of commodities and
the value of every conceivable thing. Many things can be
accomplished by law. Employers may be held responsible
for injuries to the employed. The mines can be ventilated.
Children can be rescued from the deformities of toil, burdens
taken from the backs of wives and mothers, houses made
wholesome, food healthful—that is to say, the weak can be
protected from the strong, the honest from the vicious,
honest contracts can be enforced, and many rights protected.
The men who have simply strength, muscle, endurance,
compete not only with other men of strength, but with the
inventions of genius. What would doctors say if physicians
of iron could be invented with curious cogs and wheels, so
that when a certain button was touched the proper pre
scription would be written ? How would lawyers feel if a
lawyer could be invented in such a way that questions of
law, being put into a kind of hopper and a crank being
turned, decisions of the highest court could be prophesied
without failure ? And how would the ministers feel if some
body should invent a clergyman of wood that would to all
intents and purposes answer the purpose ?
Invention has filled the world with the competitors not
only of laborers, but of mechanics—mechanics of the highest
skill. To-day the ordinary laborer is for the most part a
cog in a wheel. He works for the tireless—he feeds the in
satiable. When the monster stops, the man is out of em
ployment, out of bread. He has not saved anything. The
machine that he fed was not feeding him, was not working
for him—the invention was not for his benefit. The other
d'ay I heard a man say that it was almost impossible for
thousands of good mechanics to get employment, and that
in his judgment the government ought to furnish work for
the people. A few minutes after, I heard another say that
he was selling a patent for cutting out clothes, that one of
his machines could do the work of twenty tailors, and that
only the week before he had sold two to a great house in
New York, and that over forty cutters had been discharged.
�( 12 )
On every side men are being discharged and machines are
being invented to take their places. When the great factory
shuts down, the workers who inhabited it and gave it life,
as thoughts do the brain, go away, and it stands there Eke
an empty skull. A few workmen, by the force of habit,
gather about the closed doors and broken windows, and talk
about distress, the price of food, and the coming winter.
They are convinced that they have not had their share of
what their labor created.
They feel certain that the
machines inside were not their friends. They look at the
mansion of the employer and think of the places where
they live. They have saved nothing—nothing but them
selves. The employer seems to have enough. Even when
employers fail, when they become bankrupt, they are far
better off than the laborers ever were. Their worst is better
than the toilers’ best.
The capitalist comes forward with his specific. He tells
the working man that he must be economical—and yet,
under the present system, economy would only lessen wages.
Under the great law of supply and demand every saving,
frugal, self-denying working man is unconsciously doing what
little he can to reduce the compensation of himself and his
fellows. The slaves who did not wish to run away helped
fasten chains on those who did. So the saving mechanic is
a certificate that wages are high enough. Does the great
law demand that every worker live on the least possible
amount of bread ? Is it his fate to work one day, that he
may get enough food to be able to work another ? Is that
to be his only hope—that and death ?
Capital has always claimed and still claims the right to
combine. Manufacturers meet and determine upon prices,
even in spite of the great law of supply and demand. Have
the laborers the same right to consult and combine ? The
rich meet in the bank, the club-house, or parlor. Working
men, when they combine, gather in the street. All the or
ganised forces of society are against them. Capital has the
army and the navy, the legislative, the judicial and the ex
ecutive departments. When the rich combine, it is for the
purpose of “ exchanging ideas.” When the poor combine,
it is a “ conspiracy.” If they act in concert, if they really
do something, it is a “ mob.” If they defend themselves, it
is “ treason.” How is it that the rich control the depart
ments of government ? In this country the political power
is equally divided among the men. There are certainly more
poor than there are rich. Why should the rich control ?
�(13)
Why should not the laborers combine for the purpose of
controlling the executive, legislative and judicial depart
ments ? Will they ever find how powerful they are?
In every country there is a satisfied class—too satisfied
to care. They are like the angels in heaven who are never
disturbed by the miseries of earth. They are too happy to
be generous. This satisfied class asks no questions, and
answers none. They believe the world is as it should be.
All reformers are simply disturbers of the peace. When they
talk low they should not be listened to ; when they talk loud
they should be suppressed.
The truth is to-day what it always has been—what it al
ways will be—those who feel are the only ones who think.
A cry comes from the oppressed, from the hungry, from the
down-trodden, from the unfortunate, from men who despair
and from women who weep. There are times when mendi
cants become revolutionists—when a rag becomes a banner,
under which the noblest and bravest battle for the right.
How are we to settle the unequal contest between men
and machines ? Will the machine finally go into partner
ship with the laborer? Can these forces of nature be
controlled for the benefit of her suffering children ? Will
extravagance keep pace with ingenuity ? Will the workers
become intelligent enough and strong enough to be the
owners of the machines ? Will these giants, these Titans,
shorten or lengthen the hours of labor? Will they give
leisure to the industrious, or will they make the rich richer,
and the poor poorer ?
Is man involved in the “ general scheme of things ” ? Is
there no pity, no mercy? Can man become intelligent
enough to be generous, to be just; or does the same law or
fact control him that controls the animal and vegetable
world ? The great oak steals the sunlight from the smaller
trees. The strong animals devour the weak—everything
eating something else—everything at the mercy of beak, and
claw, and hoof, and tooth—of hand and club, of brain and
greed—inequality, injustice everywhere.
The poor horse standing in the street with his dray, over
worked, over-whipped, and under-fed, when he sees other
horses groomed to mirrors, glittering with gold and silver,
scorning with proud feet the very earth, probably indulges
in the usual Socialistic reflections; and this same horse,
worn out and old, deserted by his master, turned into the
dusty road, leans his head on the topmost rail, looks at
donkeys in a field of clover, and feels like a Nihilist.
�QU)
In the days of savagery the strong devoured the weak—
actually ate their flesh. In spite of all the laws that man
has made, in spite of all advance in science, literature, and
art, the strong, the cunning, the heartless still live on the
weak, the unfortunate, and foolish. True, they do not eat
their flesh, they do not drink their blood, but they live on
their labor, on their self-denial, their weariness, and want.
The poor man who deforms himself by toil, who labors for
wife and child, through all his anxious, barren, wasted life
—who goes to the grave without ever' having had one luxury
—has been the food of others. He has been devoured by
his fellow-men. The poor woman living in the bare and
lonely room, cheerless and fireless, sewing night and day to
keep starvation from a child, is slowly being eaten by her
fellow-men. When I take into consideration the agony of
civilised life—the number of failures, the poverty, the
anxiety, the tears, the withered hopes, the bitter realities,
the hunger, the crime, the humiliation, the shame—I am
almost forced to say that cannibalism, after all, is the most
merciful form in which man has ever lived upon his fellow
man.
Some of the best and purest of our race have advocated
what is known as Socialism. They have not only taught,
but, what is much more to the purpose, have believed, that
a nation should be a family ; that the government should
take care of all its children; that it should provide work,
and food, and clothes, and education for all, and that it
should divide the results of all labor equitably with all.
Seeing the inequalities among men, knowing of the desti
tution and crime, these men were willing to sacrifice, not
only their own liberties, but the liberties of all.
Socialism seems to be one of the worst possible forms of
slavery. Nothing in my judgment would so utterly paralyse
all the forces, all the splendid ambitions and aspirations
that now tend to the civilisation of man. In ordinary
systems of slavery there are some masters, a few are
supposed to be free ; but in a Socialistic state all would be
slaves.
If the government is to provide work, it must decide for
the worker what he must do. It must say who shall chisel
statues, who shall paint pictures, who shall compose music,
and who shall practise the professions. Is any government,
or can any government be, capable of intelligently perform
ing these countless duties? It must not only control work,
it must not only decide what each shall do, but it must
�( 15 )
|F
control expenses, because expenses bear a direct relation to
products. Therefore the government must decide what the
worker shall eat and wherewithal he shall be clothed; the
kind of house in which he shall live ; the manner in which
it shall be furnished, and, if the government furnishes the
work, it must decide on the days or the hours of leisure.
More than this, it must fix values; it must decide -not only
who shall sell, but who shall buy, and the price that must
be paid--and it must fix this value not simply upon the
labor, but on everything that can be produced, that can be
exchanged or sold.
Is it possible to conceive of a despotism beyond this?
The present condition of the world is bad enough, with its
poverty and ignorance, but it is far better than it could by
any possibility be under any government like the one de
scribed ./ There would be less hunger of the body, but not
of the mind. Each man would simply be a citizen of a large
penitentiary, and, as in every well-regulated prison, some
body would decide what each should do. The inmates of a
prison retire early ; they rise with the sun ; they have somer,
thing to eat; they are not dissipated ; they have clothes ;
they attend divine service : they have but little to say about
their neighbors ; they do not suffer from cold ; their habits
are excellent, and yet no one envies their condition. Socialism
destroys the family. The children belong to the state. Cer
tain officers take the places of parents. Individuality is lost.
The human race cannot afford to exchange its liberty for
any possible comfort. You remember the old fable of the
fat dog that met the lean wolf in the forest. The wolf,
astonished to see so prosperous an animal, inquired of the
dog where he got his food, and the dog told him that there
was a man who took care of him, gave him his breakfast,
his dinner, and his supper with the utmost regularity, and
that he had all that he could eat and very little to do.
The wolf said, “ Do you think this man would treat me as
he does you ? ” The dog replied, “ Yes ; come along with
me.” So they jogged on together toward the dog’s home.
On the way the wolf happened to notice that some hair
was worn off the dog’s neck, and he said, “ How did the
hair become worn ? ” “ That is,” said the dog, “ the mark
of the collar—my master ties me at night.” “ Oh,” said
the wolf, “are you chained? Are you deprived of vour
liberty ? I believe I will go back. I prefer hunger.
It is impossible for any man with a. good heart to be
satisfied with this world as it now is. No one can truly
enjoy even what he earns—what he knows to be his own—
�16
knowing that millions of his fellow-men are in misery and
want. When we think of the famished we feel that it is
almost heartless to eat. To meet the ragged and shivering
makes one almost ashamed to be well-dressed and warm—
one feels as though his heart was as cold as their bodies.
In a world filled with millions and millions of acres of
land waiting to be tilled, where one man can raise the food
for hundreds, millions are on the edge of famine. Who can
comprehend the stupidity at the bottom of this truth ?
Is there to be no change ? Are “ the law of supply and
demand,” invention and science, monopoly and competition,
capital and legislation, always to be the enemies of those
who toil ? Will the workers always be ignorant enough and
stupid enough to give their earnings for the useless ? Will
they support millions of soldiers to kill the sons of other
working-men? Will they always build temples for ghosts
and phantoms, and live in huts and dens themselves ? Will
they forever allow parasites with crowns, and vampires with
mitres, to live upon their blood ? Will they remain the slaves
of the beggars they support ? How long will they be con
trolled by friends who seek favors, and by reformers who
want office ? Will they always prefer famine in the city to a
feast in the fields ? Will they ever feel and know that they
have no right to bring children into the world that they cannot
support ? Will they use their intelligence for themselves,
or for others ? Will they become wise enough to know that
they cannot obtain their own liberty by destroying that of
others? Will they finally see that every man has a right
to choose his trade, his profession, his employment, and has
the right to work when, and for whom, and for what he will?
Will they finally say that the man who has had equal pri
vileges with all others has no right to complain, or will they
follow the example that has been set by their oppressors ?
Will they learn that force, to succeed, must have a thought
behind it, and that anything done, in order that it may en
dure, must rest upon the corner-stone of justice ?
Will they, at the command of priests, forever extinguish
the spark that sheds a little light in every brain ? Will
they ever recognise the fact that labor, above all things, is
honorable—that it is the foundation of virtue ? Will they
understand that beggars cannot be generous, and that every
healthy man must earn the right to live ? Will honest men
stop taking off their hats to successful fraud ? Will industry,
in the presence of crowned idleness, forever fall upon its
knees, and will the lips unstained by lies forever kiss the
robed impostor’s hand ?
��
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The hope of the future
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Ingersoll, Robert Green [1833-1899]
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Place of publication: London
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R. Forder
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1887
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Socialism
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Capitalism
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Socialism
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Text
Price One Penny.
23rd Thousand.
II
Reprinted with additions from “JUSTICE,”
BY J. L. JOYNES.
1885.
Published at The Modern Press, 13, Paternoster Row, E.C.
I.—DIVISION OF TOIL.
Q. Why is it necessary that any work should be done in the world ? A. Because men
require food, clothing, and shelter; and these cannot be obtained without work.
Q. Is the work which must be done in order to produce these necessaries either very
hard or very long ? A. It is neither the one nor the other. After all the necessary work
has been done, there is ample opportunity for the enjoyment of leisure and the produc
tion of beautiful things.
Q. Then why do immense numbers of men spend their whole lives in doing work
which gives them no pleasure, while the enjoyment of leisure is an impossibility for
them ? A. Because there is smother large class of men who keep all the available leisure
and pleasure for themselves.
Q. How may these two sets of persons be roughly distinguished? A. As employers
and employed; idlers and workers ; privileged and plundered ; or, more simply still, asrich and poor.
Q. Cannot the poor provide the rich witn rood, clothing, and shelter, and yet have
enough time for leisure even after they have done this ? A. Certainly; but the rich are
not content with exacting simple necesswies from the poor.
Q, What more do they compel them to contribute ? A. Luxuries; and there is no
end to the amount of labour which ma« be wasted in the painful production of useless
things.
Q. Why do the poor consent to produce by their labour all these necessary and un
necessary things for persons who d» nothing for them in return ? A. Simply because
they cannot help themselves.
Q. But how does it happen that <ney are in this helpless position ? A. It is due to
the fact that society is at present organised solely in the interests of the rich.
Q. Why cannot the poor organise society on a system which will prevent their being
robbed of their own productions’ A Because the existing organisation itself keeps them
ignorant of its own causes, and «xmsequently powerless to resist its effects,
Q. What is the first step towards a better state of things ? A. The education of the
poor to understand how it is that their own excessive work enables the rich to live in
idleness upon its fruits.
Q. What is the most hopeful sign that they are ready for enlightenment on this point ?
A. Discontent with the disagreeable and degrading conditions of their own lives.
Q. What is the first principle to which they may appeal for relief from these condi
tions? A. The principle of justice, since it is manifestly unfair that those who do all
the work should obtain the smallest share of the good things which it produces.
Q. What is the alternative to the present unequal distribution of work and good
things? A. That all should be obliged to do their fair share of the work, and to content
themselves with a fair share of the good things.
Q. Are those who insist upon the practical enforcement of this principle Conservatives
or Radicals ? A. They are neither, since they are necessarily opposed to all political
parties.
Q. What then are they called ? A. From the fact that they wish to displace the pre
sent system of competition for the bare means of subsistence, where each man is for
himself, and to establish in its stead the principle of associated work and common enjoy
ment, where each is for all and all for each, they are called Socialists
�'•'AxW^v.xW
IL—THE CAPITALIST SYSTEM.
•
Q, What is wealth ? A. Everything that supplies the wants of man, and ministers in
any way to his comfort and enjoyment.
Q, Whence is wealth derived? A. From labour usefully employed upon natural
objects.
Q. Give instances of labour usefully employed? A. Ploughing, sowing, spinning
weaving, etc., etc.
Q. Give instances of useless employment of labour? A. Digging a pit for the pur
pose of filling it up again, making a road that leads nowhere, supporting people in abso
lute idleness by presenting them with food and clothing for doing nothing, etc., etc.
Q. What do we mean when we say that an article has value ? A. That it is useful or
agreeable to human beings.
Q. When is an article said to have an “ exchange value” in addition to its usefulness
or “ use value ” ? A. When it embodies a certain amount of generally useful labour.
Q. Are the two sorts of value ever identical ? A. They cannot be compared at all.
Q. Explain by an instance what you mean by this? A. The hunger of a starving
man who enters a baker’s shop does not affect the exchange-value of a loaf, which is
measured by the amount of labour which has been expended in making and baking it.
Q. What is its use-value to him ? J. Its use-value is infinitely great, as it is a ques
tion of life and death with him to obtain it.
Q. What is its use-value to another man? A. Its use-value is nothing at all to a
turtle-fed aiderman, sick already with excessive eating, but its exchange-value remains
the same in all cases.
Q. Is there no exception to this rule? A. If the baker has a monopoly of baking, and
no other loaves are anywhere obtainable, he can charge a much higher price than the
amount of his expended labour entitles him to demand.
Q. Is this often done ? A. Every monopolist does it, as a matter of course.
Q. Who are the chief monopolists ? A. There are two great classes. The landlord s
monopolise the land, and the capitalists the machinery.
Q. What is capital ? A. Capital is the result of past labour devoted to present pro
duction,—machinery and factories for example.
Q. How does the landlord secure his profit ? A. By extorting from the labourer a
share of all that he produces, under threat of excluding him from the land.
Q. How does the capitalist act? A. He extorts from those labourers who are ex
cluded from the land a share of all that they produce, under threat of withholding
from them the implements of production, and thus refusing to let them work at all.
Q. On what terms does the capitalist allow the labourers to work ? A. The capitalist
agrees to return to them as wages about a quarter of what they have produced by their
work, keeping the remaining three quarters for himself and his class.
Q. What is this system called ? A. The capitalist system.
Q. What is it that regulates the amount returned to the labourer ? A. The amount
that is necessary to keep him and his family alive.
Q. Why does the capitalist care to keep him alive ? A. Because capital without
labour is helpless.
Q. How is this amount settled ? A. By competition among the labourers, and the
higgling of the labour market.
Q. Is it invariable? A. It varies with all the variations of trade and locality, and the
different degrees of skill of the different labourers, but it constantly tends to a bare
subsistence for the mass of the labourers.
Q. By what name is this law known ? A. The iron law of wages.
Q. How can it be proved ? A. By reckoning up the amount of food and clothing
consumed by those who produce them.
Q Is there any independent testimony to its truth ? A. The witness of all doctors
who have studied the subject.
Q. What evidence do they give upon it ? A. They declare that diseases arising from
insufficient nourishment are constantly present throughout the labouring classes, and
that “ the poor are permanently afflicted with one disease—starvation."
Q. What remedy for this do Socialists propose ? A. Simply that the labouring
classes should become their own employers.
Q. What effect would this have? A. The classes who live in idleness on the fruits
of the labour of other people would be improved off the face of the earth, every one
being obliged to take his share of honest work.
Q. On what compulsion ? A. The alternative of starvation would stare them in the
�face, as soon as the labourers ceased to supply them gratis with food, clothing, shelter,
and luxuries.
Q. Are not the “upper classes” useful as organisers of labour? A. Those who
organise labour are always worthy of their hire, though the hire may be fixed too high
at present; but it is only the absolutely idle, and those whose work, however hard it may
be, consists in perfecting and organising the arrangements for plundering the labourers
of their reward, who are simply the enemies of the workers.
Q. Are shareholders in companies, for instance, useful in organising labour ? A. As
a rule they employ others to organise labour, and the work done by the company would
go on just as well if the shareholders disappeared.
Ill—SURPLUS VALUE.
Q. In whose interest is present production carried on? A. In that of the employing
classes.
Q. Explain this. A. The labourers produce the machinery, which the employers
take away from them as soon as it is made. The labourers are then employed to work it,
in order to produce profit for their masters at a faster rate.
Q. What interest have the labourers in the continuance of capitalism, that is, the
capitalist system ? A. Manifestly none.
Q. Is capital, therefore, useless? A. Certainly not. The way in which it is used i»
attacked by Socialists, not the thing itself.
Q. How is it possible that it should be used in the labourer’s interest? A. Only by
means of a democratic State, acting in the interest of the producers.
Q. In what way would the State effect this? A. By taking into its own hands all the
land and capital, or “ means of production,” which are now used as monopolies for
the benefit of the possessing class.
Q. Is there any precedent for this? A. As the State has already taken over the
Post Office and the Telegraphs, so it might take over the Railways, Shipping, Mines,
Factories, and all other industries.
Q. Is the Post Office worked on Socialist principles ? A. Certainly not. There is no
pretence that the interests of its labourers, the postmen, are considered at all.
Q. What principle regulates their employment? A. That which regulates the em
ployment of all other labourers, competition, reducing their wages to the lowest
possible point, except in the case of the higher officials, who are paid much more than
would willingly be accepted by equally capable men,
Q. Cannot the workers combine together by co-operation to defeat this principle of
competition ? A. Co-operative societies cannot defeat this principle, unless the whole
body of workers are included in one society, and that is simply Socialism
Q. Why cannot different societies defeat competition? A. Because they are com
pelled to compete against each other, to exploit those labourers who are not members
of their body, and to be exploited by others in their turn.
Q. What do you mean by the word “ exploit " ? A. To exploit is to get more than
one gives in a bargain.
Q. To what extent is the exploitation of the labourers commonly carried? A. The
employers give them a bare subsistence, and take from them all the rest of the fruits of
their labour.
Q. What is the difference between the two called ? A. Surplus-value.
Q. What proportion expresses its amount ? A. The proportion between the two or
three hours of necessary labour, and the ordinary ten, twelve, or more hours’ work.
Q. W’hat do you mean by necessary labour? A. That which would feed and clothe
and keep in comfort the nation if all took their part in performing it.
Q. Is any individual employer responsible for the exploitation of the labourers?
A. No, the blame applies to the whole class. Individual employers may be ruined, but
the employing class continue to appropriate the surplus-value.
Q. How do you account for this ? A. Because competition is as keen among the
capitalists as among the labourers.
Q. How does it act with them ? A. It determines the division of the spoil, different
sets of people struggling to get a share in the surplus-value.
Q. How does this competition above affect the labourers below ? A. It does not affect
them at all. It is assumed that the plunder is to be shared among the “ upper classes,’
and the only question is in what proportion this shall be done.
Q. How do. the upper classes label this plunder? A. By many names, such as rent
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brokerage, fees, profits, wages of superintendence, reward of abstinence, insurance
against risk, but above all, interest on capital.
Q. Are all these deducted from the labourers’ earnings ? A. There is no other fund
from which they could possibly come.
Q. Is surplus-value paid for at all ? A. By no means. It is the produce of unpaid
labour, and is simply taken for nothing, just as a thief accumulates his stolen goods,
Q. Does not the progress of civilisation decrease the amount of the surplus-value ? A.
On the contrary it largely increases it.
Q. How is this? A. Improvements in agriculture, method, and machinery, which
civilisation renders possible, multiply manifold the productiveness of the labourer’s toil;
but competition among the labourers prevents them from reaping the benefit.
Q. Does not competition among capitalists in the same way lower the rate of interest ?
A. Certainly it does, but the rate of interest has nothing whatever to do with the rate
of exploitation or of surplus-value.
Q. What is interest ? A. Interest is a fine, paid by the private organiser of labour
out of the surplus-value which his labourers supply, to the idle person from whom he
borrows his capital.
Q. What is the tendency of the two rates of interest and surplus-value ? A. The rate
of interest falls, while the rate of surplus value rises.
Q. Why is this ? A. Because with the storing up of the increased surplus-value by
the capitalist, or in other words, with the accumulation of capital, the competition among
capitalists who are anxious to lend on interest becomes keener, and each individual is
obliged to be content with less.
Q. Does not this lessening of the rate of interest benefit the labourer ? A. No; since
it is only due to the multiplication of those who share in his surplus-value, the result
being the same as it would be if he were allowed to pay a penny to six people instead of
sixpence to one.
Q. How do the capitalists adjust their own conflicting claims ? A. It is a question of
division of spoil among plunderers. If the surplus-value is high, there is more to divide
among the capitalists, but if the capitalists are numerous there is so much less for each
individual among them.
Q. Explain this by an example A. Take the case of Belgium. The labourers are
there exploited to the uttermost, there being no "factory laws” to restrain the greed of
the employer, but since capital is plentiful, the surplus-value is shared among many
capitalists, and the rate of interest is low.
IV.—METHODS OF EXTORTION.
Q. What did you mean by saying that capital without labour is helpless ?. A. The
most ingenious machinery can do nothing but rust or rot unless it is kept going by
labourers.
Q. Why do not the labourers decline to work the machinery for the capitalist?
A. Because they have no other means of making their livelihood.
Q. How could this be remedied ? The State could compete with the capitalist by
providing employment for the labourers, and paying them the full value of their pro
ductions.
Q. What would be the effect of this upon the private capitalist ? A. His power would
be gone at once, since no labourers would work for him, except on such terms as would
leave him no surplus-value whatever.
Q. Is not the existence of capital in private hands an evil? A. Yes, certainly; but
capital, as such, would cease to exist.
Q. Is not wealth in private hands an evil ? A. Large accumulations of wealth by
individuals are an evil, but the evil is different in kind, for they could no longer be used
to carry out the capitalist system.
Q. Why not? A. Because the capitalist system presupposes the existence of two
factors, and is unworkable and impossible without them.
Q. What are these two factors ? A. First, private property in accumulated wealth ;
and, secondly, the presence of property-less labourers in the market who are forced to
sell their services at cost price.
Q. What do you mean by cost price? A. The wages which will give them a bare
subsistence and enable them to work on the morrow, this being the cost of the daily
reproduction of the force or power to labour which constitutes their sole property.
Q. Could not the capitalists obtain labourers by offering them the full value of their
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productions ? A. Possibly, but since the only object of the capitalist system is to
produce for profit, they would cease to wish to employ them when the source of interest
and profit was cut off.
Q. But supposing, in spite of their previous principles, they still wished to employ
them, what would be the result ? A. The labourers would have nothing to complain of
in this case; but the result would be that private capital would gradually dwindle away,
since it would not be replaced by surplus-value, and the capitalist could not compete
with the State on equal terms.
Q | What has hitherto prevented the workers from combining for the overthrow of the
capitalist system ? A. Ignorance and disorganisation.
Q. What has left them in ignorance ? A. The system itself, by compelling them to
spend all their lives upon monotonous toil, and leaving them no time for education
Q. What account have they been given of the system which oppresses them ? A. The
priest has explained that the perpetual presence of the poor is necessitated by a law of
God ; the economist has proved its necessity by a law of Nature; and between them
they have succeeded in convincing the labourers of the hopelessness of any opposition to
the capitalist system.
Q. How is it that the labourers cannot see for themselves that they are legally robbed ?
A. Because the present method of extracting their surplus value is one of fraud rather
than of force, and has grown up gradually.
Q. Has this not always been the case? A. Certainly not. Under the slave-owning
system there was no fraud involved, but only force.
Q. What similarity is there between the slave-owning and the capitalist system ? A.
The parallel is complete, with the single exception that force was used in place of fraud.
Q. Explain this. A. The slave-owner received the produce of the slave’s toil, and re
turned to him part of it in the shape of food, clothing, and shelter. The capitalist takes
the whole produce of the labourer’s toil, and returns to him such proportion of it as will
provide him with necessaries.
Q. What constitutes the chief difference between capitalism and slave-owning? A.
The fact that the capitalist goes through the form of bargaining with the labourer as ic
the amount of the portion of the produce that shall be returned to him.
Q. What is this farce called ? A. Freedom of contract.
Q. In what sense is it free? A. In this sense—that the labourer is free to take what
is offered or nothing.
Q. Has he anything to fall back upon? A. He has absolutely nothing in countries
where the tyranny of capitalism is untempered by any form of Socialism.
Q. What is the case in England? A. Humanity has revolted against the reign of
the capitalist, and provided the workhouse as a last resource for the labourer, taxing the
capitalist for its support.
Q. How has the capitalist turned this piece of Socialism to his own ends? A. By
rendering the workhouse so unpleasant to the poor that starvation is often thought pre
ferable ; and by insisting that no useful work done in the workhouse shall be brought
into his market, where its presence would disturb his calculations, and impair his profits.
Q. Why does he allow it to exist at all ? A. Because he knows that its existence may
stave off for a time the Revolution which he dreads.
Q. What do you mean by the Revolution ? A. The complete change in the conditions
of society which will abolish all unjust privileges, distinctions of rank, or difference
between wage-payers and wage-earners, and will render the workers their own employers.
Q. What other method of appropriating surplus-value has prevailed besides those of
slavery and capitalism ? A. In purely agricultural countries, as for instance in Ireland
and South-Eastern Europe, different types of landlordism have been quite as effectual.
Q. Does landlordism represent the forcible or the fraudulent method? A. Force is
its chief element, since it labels the surplus-value ‘ rents,' and uses all the resources of
civilisation in the shape of police and soldiery to enforce their payment by the people,
but the element of fraud is present, since the labourer is told that he is free to give up
his holding if he does not wish to pay rent.
Q. Mention a special type of landlordism ? A. The system called corvee.
Q. How does this work? A. The labourer is allowed to work on his own land for a
certain number of days, and to keep for himself all the produce of his toil during
that time, on the condition that he spends all his remaining time upon the land which
belongs to the landlord, who appropriates its fruits.
Q. How does this differ from the capitalist method of appropriation ? A. Chiefly in the
fact that the labourer knows exactly when he is working for his own benefit, and whe t
for that of the landlord ; while under the capitalist system there it no line of distinction
and neither he nor anyone else can tell precisely the exact length of time during whic.i
he gives away his labour gratis, although it is clear that his first two or three hours are
for himself, and the remaining seven or eight for some one else.
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Q. Can you show this to be the case ? A. As the producers only get from one-fourth
to one-third of the total produce, the remainder of their work obviously goes to benefit
the non-producers.
V—MACHINES AND THEIR USE.
Q. What is the use of machinery ? A. Labour-saving machinery is used, as its name
indicates, to reduce the cost of production.
Q. What do you mean by the cost of production ? A. The amount of human labour
necessary to produce useful things.
Q. How ought this reduction of the necessary hours of labour to affect the labouring
class ? A. It ought to benefit them in every way, by increasing their wealth as well as
their opportunities of leisure.
Q. Has it done so ? A. Certainly not.
Q. Why not ? A. Because the capitalist class has appropriated to itself nearly all the
benefit.
Q. What, then, has been the result ? A. The available surplus-value has largely
increased, and the idle classes have become more numerous and more idle.
Q. Support your opinion by that of an economist? A. “It is questionable,” says
John Stuart Mill, " if all the improvements in machinery have lightened the day’s toil
of a single man.”
Q. In what aspect of the case is this correct ? A. In respect of the whole labouring
class as a body.
Q. What is the effect upon individuals of the introduction of a labour-saving machine ?'
A. It lightens the day’s toil to a certain number of labourers most effectually, by taking
away their employment altogether, and throwing them helpless on the streets.
Q. Is such a lamentable event frequent ? A. It is a matter of every-day occurrence.
Q. What is the result to their employer ? A. He “ saves their labour ” in the senseof getting the same work done by the machine without having to pay their wages.
Q. Is this a permanent advantage to him individually ? A. As long as he has a mono
poly of the machine, it is a great advantage to him, but other capitalists soon introduce
it also, and compel him to share the spoil with them.
Q. In what way is this result obtained ? A. By comp dtion. The owners of the
machines try to undersell each other, with a view to keeizug the production in their
own hands.
Q. How far does competition beat down prices? A. Until the normal level of capitalist
profits is reached, below which they all decline to go.
Q. What inference do the economists draw from the result of competition? A. That
the whole nation shares equally in the advantage of the machine, since prices are every
where reduced.
Q. What fallacy underlies this argument ? A. The same fallacy which vitiates every
argument of the economists, and that is the assumption that the labourers have no right
to complain so long as the employers are content with taking only the normal rate of
profits as their share of the surplus-value.
Q. What other consideration is omitted by the economists ? A. The fact that society
is divided into two classes of idlers and workers. They assume again that the workers
have no right to complain, so long as they seem to obtain an equal share with the idlers
in the advantage gained by the saving of their own toil.
Q. How do they seem to share this advantage ? A. By the reduction in cost of articles
which they buy.
Q. Is not cheapness of production a benefit to the workers ? A. It is only an apparent,
not a real benefit.
Q. How could it be rendered real? A. It would be real if all who consumed were
also workers. As it is, the working-class get all the disadvantage of the low wages, and
of the adulteration, which has been described as a form of competition.
Q. What makes the reduction of cost appear advantageous to the wage-earners ?
A. The fact that their wages are paid in money.
Q. How is this ? A. The money-price of all articles has risen enormously during the
last three centuries owing to the increased abundance of gold. The money wages have
risen also, but not in anything like the same proportion.
Q. What has prevented them from rising in the same proportion ? A. The cheapening
of the labour-cost of the necessaries of life, which has thus been rendered an empty boon
to the wage-earners.
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Q. Give an instance of the misapirehension of these facts* A. The regular boast of
the Free-Traders, recently reiterated by John Bright, is that the Liberals have given
the labourers two loaves whereas the Tories wished them to be content with only one.
Q. What is this boast based upon ? A. The undeniable fact that bread is cheaper in
England under Free Trade than under Protection.
Q, Then how can you tell that the labourer does not get twice as much bread as
he would otherwise enjoy ? A. Simply because it has been proved again and again on
the highest authority that the labourers as a body at present obtain so bare a subsistence
that it does not suffice to keep them in health; therefore they could not at any time have
lived on half the amount.
Q. What would be the effect if bread became twice as dear ? A. Wages would neces
sarily rise. A Wiltshire farm labourer could not maintain his family on half their pre
sent food; and though capital cares nothing about individuals, it takes good care that
the labourers shall not starve in a body.
Q. What, then, is the general result of the cheapness which is caused by the introduc
tion of labour-saving machinery? A. The advantage of the cheapening of luxuries is
obviously reaped directly by the idlers, since the workers cannot afford to purchase
them. In the case of necessaries the advantage seems at first sight to be shared between
idlers and workers; but ultimately the idlers secure the whole advantage, because
money-wages are proportioned to what money will buy, and the iron law keeps them
down to the price of a bare subsistence.
Q. Do the labourers suffer any direct disadvantage from machinery? A. Certainly
they do. Numbers of them are thrown out of employment at each fresh invention; their
position is rendered ‘precarious in the extreme; and there is a constant tendency to
replaced skilled labour by unskilled, and men by women.
Q. If this is so, would not the workers be wise to destroy the machinery ? A. To
destroy what they have themselves produced, merely because it is at present stolen
from them, would be absurd.
Q. What course should they pursue ? A. Organise their ranks; demand restitution
of their property; keep it under their control; and work it for their own benefit.
.
4
VI.—DISTRIBUTION OF WEALTH.
«
Q. Is it the case that the prices of articles would be raised if the community were
organised on Socialist principles? A. Not necessarily, nor in most cases; but in some
this would certainly be the result.
Q. On what principle? A. The principle governing the price of all ordinary things
would be that the worker should receive the full value of his labour.
Q. Would not this always raise the price of his production? A. No, it would only
ensure its being paid to him instead of to an idler.
Q. Explain this? A. In many cases the full labour-value of an article is paid by the
consumer, although the producer gets only his bare subsistence, all the surplus-value
being intercepted by the numerous unnecessary middlemen.
Q. Why is this not always the case? A. Because the employer of labour, instead of
always dividing the surplus-value among middlemen, often competes with his neighbours
by offering a share of it to the consumer.
Q. How can he do this ? A. Simply by selling his goods below their full labour-value.
Q. Give an instance of this? A. A notorious example of this occurs in the match-box
trade, for although several middlemen secure their share of the surplus-value of the
match-box makers, they are still sold to the public at a lower price than their full labour
value, the buyer thus becoming a partner in the employer’s theft by receiving a share of
his stolen goods.
Q. Who are the middlemen who intercept and share the surplus-value produced by
the labourer ? A. The unnecessary agents and distributors, the holders of stocks, bonds,
and shares of every description, and all those who are supported by the wealth-producers
either in idleness or in useless labour, of which latter class of persons flunkeys are a
conspicuous example.
Q. Do not the rich support their own flunkeys, and maintain in comfort those who
produce luxuries for them ? A. Certainly not. These people are maintained entirely
by the workers, though the maintenance is passed through the hands of the rich, who
therefore imagine that they produce it.
Q. Is not expenditure for luxuries “good for trade," and so beneficial to the workers ?
A. It is only good for the trade of the producers of luxuries by exactly the amount
which it withdraws from the producers of useful things.
�.'•WSSf^'vNvi-
,■■ ^.
.... ...WTM'
— 8 —
Q. Would not the money employed upon luxuries otherwise be idle? A. By no
means. The rich are not in the habit of keeping their riches in a stocking, and the
bankers are compelled to keep all the money lent them in full use, or they would them
selves be ruined.
Q. What then is the result of spending money upon luxuries? A. The destruction
of a certain amount of wealth and the absolute waste of the labour spent in repro
ducing it.
Q. Does not the expenditure of a wealthy man in keeping up a large household
benefit the poor ? A. Decidedly not.
Q. What then is the result of spending money in maintaining flunkeys ? A. The
utter waste of all the food and clothing they consume.
Q. Would not they in any case consume food and clothing ? A. Certainly : but they
would repay the waste by producing useful things themselves.
Q. How does all this work affect the labourers ? A. It compels them to produce
more food and clothing than would otherwise be necessary, or else to consume less of it
themselves.
Q. How is this ? A. Because the food which the flunkeys eat cannot be also eaten
by the labourers; while the labourers are obliged to produce it, since somebody must
do this, and it is perfectly evident that the flunkeys do not.
Q. Does not this apply to all the idle classes ? A. Certainly. We have only to ask
where the food which they eat and the clothes which they wear, come from, and we see
that they are produced by somebody else without any return being made for them by
the idlers. That is to say, they represent unpaid labour, or in other words surplus
value.
Q. Then if one man is living in idleness, what is the inevitable result ? A. That
another man is producing what he consumes; or that several are each doing more than
their fair share of work to make up for his deficiency.
Q. How would Socialism deal with this question of work? A. It would compel every
one to do his share of the necessary work of the world.
Q. Under what penalty ? A. Under penalty of starvation, since those who refused to
work would get nothing to eat.
Q. What would happen to the old and infirm and the children? A. They would be,
as they are in any society, a perfectly just charge upon the able-bodied workers, in
creasing the necessary work of the world by the amount which must be devoted to their
maintenance and education.
Q. Would the workers then receive the full value of their toil ? A. Deductions from
it for such purposes as those just mentioned are, of course, inevitable, and must be
made under every form of society, as well as certain other deductions for other measures
of public utility.
Q. What deductions can be prevented by Socialism ? A. Nothing could be subtracted
from the labourers’ reward for the purpose of maintaining in idleness any persons
whatever who are capable of work, nor for the aggrandisement of private individuals,
nor for the furthering of objects of no public utility merely to satisfy individual caprice.
YII—THEORIES OF PROFIT.
Q. What is the use of money ? A. It facilitates the exchange of articles, especially
those of unequal value.
Q. How is this effected? A. If A produces wheat, and B cloth, money serves as a
convenient measure of the labour-value of each. A exchanges his wheat for money,
and buys cloth with that. B exchanges his cloth for money and buys wheat with that.
Q. Are they both enriched by the bargain ? A. Not in the matter of exchange-value,
since wheat which has cost a day’s labour exchanges for cloth which has cost the same,
but in the matter of use-value they are both enriched, since each gets what he wants,
anil gives what he does not want.
Q. Is this always the case? A. Always, in the ordinary exchange between producers
who are working for their own benefit, and exchange goods for money, and that money
for other goods.
Q. Can a profit be made out of money transactions altogether apart from the exchange
©f goods ? A. Yes, by gambling either on the race-course or on the stock-exchange,
but in this case one gambler's gain is another’s loss.
Q. Whaf other form of exchange now prevails? A. That of those who, not being
workers, produce no goods, but yet have command of money.
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9
~
Q. How do they use it ? A. They exchange their money for goods, and those goods
back again into money.
Q. Then what is the use of the process if they only get money at the end, when they
had money at the beginning ? A. Because at the second exchange they get more money
than they gave at the first.
Q. How has this fact been explained by economists? A. By the mere statement
that the money-monger either gave less money than the goods were worth at the first
exchange, or got more than they were worth at the second.
Q. What consideration did they omit in this theory ? A. The fact that these same
money-mongers are in the market both as buyers and sellers, and that without a miracle
they cannot all gain on both transactions, but must lose in selling precisely the amount
they gain in buying.
Q. What other inadequate explanation has been put forward ? A. The theory that
in buying machinery they buy something which has the power of adding an extra exchange-value to the goods upon which it is employed.
Q. What made this theory seem plausible? A. The fact that with a machine the
labourer can produce goods much faster than without it.
Q. Does not this add exchange-value to his productions? A. Not unless he has a
monopoly of the machine, and can thus fear no competition except that of hand-labour;
otherwise the ex change-value of his goods sinks in proportion to the increased rapidity
of their production.
Q. Explain this. A. If he can make two yards of cloth in the time which he formerly
devoted to one, and all other weavers can do the same, the price or exchange-value of
two yards sinks to the former price of one; though, of course, the use-value of two is
always greater than that of one.
Q. Are not monopolies frequent ? A. No individual capitalist can keep a monopoly
for any great length of time, as all inventions become common property at last, and,
although it is true that the capitalists as a body have a monopoly of machinery as against
the workers, which adds a fictitious value to machine-made goods, and will continue to
do so until the workers take control of the machinery, yet this extra value is too small
to account for a tithe of the profits of the money-mongers.
Q. What is the one thing needful, which they must be able to buy in the market, in
order to make these profits ? A. Something whichjshall itself have the power of creating
exchange-value largely in excess of its own cost, in order that at the end of the transac
tion they may have secured more money than they have expended.
Q, What is to be bought in the market having this power ? A. There is only one
thing with this power, and that is the labourer himself, who offers his labour-force on
the market.
Q. On what terms does he offer it ? A. Competition compels him to be content with
its cost price.
Q. What is this ? A. Subsistence wages, that is, enough to keep himself and his
family from starvation.
Q. What does this represent in labour? A. The value produced by his labour
expendedBsefully for two or three hours every day.
Q. Is he, then, at leisure after two or three hours’ work? A. By no means. The
bargain between him and the capitalist requires him to give ten hours or more of work
for the cost price of two or three.
Q. Why does he make such an unequal bargain ? A. Because, in spite of all so-called
freedom of contract, he has no other choice.
Q. Has the capitalist no conscience? A. Individuals cannot alter the system, even if
they would ; and the capitalist is now often represented by a company, which, if it had
a conscience, could not pay its five per cent.
Q. After the labourer has produced the price of his own wages, what does he go on to
do ? A. To produce exchange-value, for which he is not paid at all, for the benefit of
the capitalist.
Q. What is the value produced by this unpaid labour called? A. Surplus value, as
we said before.
, Q. What does the capitalist do with the surplus value? A. He keeps as much as
he can for himself under the name of profits of his business.
Q. Why does he not keep it all ? A. Because out of it he has to pay landlords, other
capitalists from whom he has borrowed capital, bankers and brokers who have effected
these loans for him, middlemen who sell his wares to the public, and finally the public,
in order to induce them to buy from him instead of from rival manufacturers.
Q. How does he justify this appropriation of surplus-value by his class ? A. He tries
to persuade himself that capital has the power of breeding and producing interest by as
natural a process as the reproduction of animals.
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Q. Can he find any dupes to believe in so absurd a theory ? A. He instils a genuine
belief into himself and others that this is really the case.
Q. What is the inference from this? A. That the labourer ought to be grateful to the
capitalist for furnishing him with employment.
Q. For what have the labourers really to thank the capitalist? A. For defrauding
them of three-quarters of the fruits of their toil, and rendering leisure, education, and
natural enjoyment almost impossible for them to attain.
H
VIII.—INADEQUATE OBJECTIONS.
Fi
l
n
Q. What kind of objectors do Socialists mostly meet with ? A. Those who from
interested motives prefer the present anarchy to the proposed organisation of labour,
and those who consider Socialists as a set of well-meaning persons busied about an
impracticable scheme.
Q. What objection do they chiefly urge against Socialism? A. That Socialists, if
poor, are interested schemers for the overthrow of an excellent society, in order that,
being themselves idle and destitute, they may be able to seize upon the wealth accumu
lated by more industrious people.
Q. What have they to say against Socialists of wealth and industry ? A. That they must
obviously be insincere in their Socialism, or they would at once give away all their
capital, instead of denouncing what they themselves possess.
Q. How should Socialist working men meet the charge? A. With contempt. The
idea that people who are treated with injustice have no right to demand justice because
they would be gainers by its enforcement, is too absurd to require refutation.
Q. How should wealthy Socialists reply? A. They should point out that, so long as
the capitalist system remains, it is impossible to evade the responsibility of wealth by
merely transferring it to other persons.
Q. Explain this by an instance ? A. In a capitalist society the mere purchasing of an
article in the market involves the exploitation of the labourers who produced it; and
this is not in any way remedied or atoned for by giving away the article afterwards to
somebody else.
Q. How does this illustrate the case ? A. The owner of capital cannot prevent it from
exploiting the labourers by giving it away. It cannot be used as Socialism enjoins
except under an organised system of Socialism.
Q. Can the wealthy Socialist do nothing to frustrate the capitalist system? A. He
can mitigate the severity of competition in all his personal relations. Beyond that he
can do nothing except use his wealth in helping on the Socialist cause.
Q. How may Socialists reply to the taunt that their scheme is impracticable ? A. By
quoting the opinion of J. S. Mill that the difficulties of Socialism are greatly over-rated;
and they should declare that, so far from being an impracticable Utopian scheme, it is
the necessary and inevitable result of the historical evolution of society.
Q. How can they prove this ? A, They can point to the fact that production is becom
ing more and mere socialised every day.
Q. Explain this? A. Production, which was once carried on by individuals working
separately for themselves, is now organised by companies and joint-stock concerns, by
massing large numbers of producers together, and uniting their efforts for a common end.
Q. For what end? A. -For the profits of the shareholders of the company.
Q. How could the State take advantage of this? A. By taking into its own hands
the organisation which the capitalists have prepared for it, and using it for the benefit
of the producers alone.
Q. Would not the capitalists start fresh companies in opposition to those managed by
the State ? A. They could no more compete with the State than they can now with the
Post Office; and they would be equally helpless in the case of the Railways and all the
great industries.
Q. Would it not be easier for the capitalists to compete with the State in the case of
smaller concerns ? A. It would in any case be impossible for them to get labourers, since
the State would be paying the labourers the full value of their labour, and they would
therefore decline to work for the capitalists.
Q. Would the expropriated capitalists be entitled to compensation? A. As a matter
of principle it is unjust to compensate the holders of stolen goods out of the pockets of
those who have suffered the theft; but it might be expedient to grant some compensation
in the shape of annuities.
Q. What is the tendency of the evolution of society? A. It tends always towards
�11
more complex organisation, and to a greater interdependence of all men upon each other;
each individual becoming more and more helpless by himself, but more and more power
ful as part of a mightier society.
Q. Is it true that individuality would be crushed by Socialism ? J. On the contrary,
it is crushed by the present state of society, and would then alone be fairly developed.
Q. What does J. S. Mill say on this point? A “The restraints of Communism
would be freedom in comparison with the present condition of the majority of the human
race. The generality of labourers in this and most other countries have as little choice
of occupation or freedom of locomotion, are practically as dependent on fixed rules and
on the will of others, as they could be in any system short of actual slavery.”
Q. What does Mr. Fawcett say on the same subject ? A. That there is no choice of
work or possibility of change for the factory hand ; and that the boy who is brought up
to the plough must remain at the plough-tail to the end of his days.
Q. What other objection has been urged against Socialism ? A. That it will take away
all the incentives to exertion, and induce universal idleness in consequence.
Q. Is this the case? A. On the contrary, it will apply the strongest incentive to all
alike, for all must work if they wish to eat, while at present large classes are exempted
by the accident of birth from the necessity of working at all.
Q. Name another common objection. A. That Socialism will destroy culture and
refinement by compelling the leisured classes who have a monopoly of them to do some
honest work.
Q. Is this the case ? A. On the contrary, it will bring the opportunity of culture and
refinement to all by putting an end to the wearisome labour that continues all day long;
while the leisured class will learn by experience that work is a necessity for perfect
culture.
Q. What other objection is often .urged ? A. That State management would give rise
to jobbery and corruption.
Q. How may this be answered? A. By pointing to the present State organisation
either of the police or the Post Office, in neither of which are jobbery and corruption
conspicuous features.
Q. Would not the State be in a different postion as regards the people ? A. At present
it is the people's master, but under any democratic scheme of Socialism it would become
their servant, and merely be charged with carrying out their will.
Q. Name another objection to the practicability of Socialism? A. The cuckoo cry
that “if you make all men equal to-day, they will all be unequal to-morrow, because of
their different natural capabilities.”
Q. What equality do Socialists aim at ? A. Equality of opportunities, not of natural
powers.
Q. What is the Socialist view of the duties of those who are especially gifted by
nature ? A. That they owe a larger return to the community than those who are less
naturally gifted.
Q. What is the capitalist view of their rights and duties ? A. That they are indepen
dent of all duties, and have the right of taxing the community, which supports them,
for luxuries and waste to the full extent of their individual caprice.
Q, In accordance with this view, what method do capitalists take in dealing with
them ? A. Capitalists arrange that persons of extra industry and talent shall have every
opportunity of enslaving their less fortunate neighbours, thus adding an inequality of
conditions to the natural inequality of talent.
Q. What is the Socialist method ? A. Socialists insist that the talented as well as the
cunning shall be restrained by the organisation of society from appropriating the surplus
value created by their less fortunate neighbours.
IX—GLUTS AND THEIR RESULTS.
Q. To what is the periodical depression of trade, with its accompanying distress among
the labourers, due ? A. To the fact that individual capitalists are striving to enrich
themselves alone, instead of co-operating to supply the needs of the community.
Q. Explain this? A. During a period of activity, when prices are high and the markets
for goods are not over-stocked, a great competition goes on among capitalists, who wish
to take advantage of the high prices and produce more quickly the goods which can
command them.
Q. What is the effect of this competition ? A. All the available labourers are employed;
all the machinery is set going ; and no effort is spared by the manufacturers to produoe
the utmost quantity of the goods which are in demand on the market.
�—
12
—
Q. What is the inevitable result ? A. A glut is shortly created of these goods. Far
more than were wanted have been made. All the store-houses are full, and no more
purchasers are to be found.
Q. What is the next step in the process ? A. The capitalists soon get tired of heaping
up what they cannot sell, and wish to stop production.
Q. How can they manage this ? A. They turn off all their extra hands, and propose
such a reduction of wages that the rest agree to strike rather than accept it.
Q. With what result ? A. Production is stopped for a time, and the capitalists are not
obliged to pay wages, or else agree to pay only for half time until the glut has gradually
disappeared, as the goods are absorbed by the public.
Q. What follows? A. A fresh demand arises. The workers are all employed again,
and the glut recurs with the utmost regularity.
Q. Is there any necessity for this periodical distress ? A. Not the smallest,
Q .What is it that vitiates the whole system of production at present? A. The pre
vailing idea that goods are not to be produced for the sake of their usefulness, but for
the sake of making a profit for capitalists and giving employment to labourers.
Q. What definite evil is the result of this idea ? A. Adulteration and fraud of everv
description; cheap and nasty wares driving expensive and sound goods out of the market
Q Who are the greatest sufferers from all this ? A. The workers themselves.
Q. In what way? A. Being the least able to protect themselves against adulteration
and fraud, they are cheated to a fearful extent in all that they buy ; and are the first to
suffer from a glut in the market.
Q. How is this ? A. Because they are first compelled to produce more food and
Ciothing than can possibly be sold at a profit, and then are deprived of the means of
buying what they have themselves produced, although they are in urgent need both of
food and clothing, because the capitalists throw them out of work as soon as their work
ceases to pay its percentage.
Q. What advice is given to the labourer by well-meaning reformers who do not under
stand the labour question ? A. To be sober and thrifty.
Q. Is this advice sound? A. As addressed to the individual struggling against his
neighbours under the capitalist system, it is excellent.
Q How can it benefit the individual? A. It may enable him to “ rise ” into the capitalist
class; that is, to exchange his position in the ranks of the oppressed for one in those of
the oppressors.
Q. What is the Socialist criticism of this advice? A. That as a panacea for the
wrongs of the system, or as a cure for the sufferings of the labourers as a class, it is
inadequate , because a general improvement in intelligence, thrift, and sobriety, if
shared by the whole class of labourers, merely supplies the capitalist class with a better
instrument for the production of surplus-value.
Q. What is the result of improvement in the ability of the workers in the present
system? A. The same result as an improvement in machinery, namely, that goods are
more rapidly produced by the workers, and accumulated by the capitalists ; so that the
periodical glut, with its accompanying crisis, depression, and distress, is more quickly
achieved than before.
Q. Is there any possibility of an incidental advantage to the labourers? A. Only in
this respect: the labourer is a two-edged tool in the hands of the capitalist; and when it
becomes sharper and more efficient for his work, it becomes also more likely to cut the
hand that uses it.
Q. Explain what you mean by this ? A. A general improvement among the labourers
in intelligence and sobriety will probably be followed by improved organisation, with a
view to expropriating the classes that confiscate the fruits of their labour.
Q. Is this the end at which so-called “ social reformers ” aim ? A. By no means; but
they seem incapable of understanding either the inefficacy in one way, or the efficacy in
another, of their well-meant advice to the labourers as a class.
Q. What advice do the Malthusians give to the labourer ? A, To limit his family, as
they think that overpopulation is the cause of the distress.
Q. Is this the case I A. It has never been so in England.
Q. How can this be proved ? A. By the fact that the amount of wealth produced
which might be exchanged for food for the workers, if the capitalist system did not pre
vent it, has always increased faster than the number of producers.
Q. Why is this? A. Because the labour of those who are working in concert is far
more efficient than that of isolated workers, and machinery vastly enhances this
efficiency.
Q. What is the element of truth in the Malthusian theory? A. It is perfectly true
that a limited space of land cannot support an unlimited number of people, but as even
England, to say nothing of the world, has not reached that limit to population, it has at
present no bearing on the case.
�*3
Q. What is the element of truth as regards families? A. It is perfectly true that
in the present capitalist system the man who has no children at all is in a better
pecuniary position than the man with a large family, since, just as in actual warfare,
children in the modern competitive battle-field are an encumbrance, where every man
has to fight for his living, and maintain his family as best he may.
Q. How does the standpoint of the Malthusians differ from that of the Socialists’
A. The former accept the basis of the capitalist society, namely, the existence of two
distinct classes of wage-payers and wage-earners, and merely advise the workers to
attempt to secure a larger wage.
Q. How do Socialists regard this advice ? A. They consider that the discussion as to
whether the workers shall enjoy one-half or one-third of the wealth which they have
produced is comparatively unimportant, and they continue to urge the rightful claim of
the workers to the full value of their own productions.
Q. How soon is this claim likely to be attended to ? A. As soon as ever the majority
of the workers really understand their own position, and consequently become convinced
of the advantages of Socialism.
Q. How can the capitalists be converted to the same view? A. Appeals to justice
may make isolated conversions of individual capitalists, but nothing short of a display
of organised force will enable the idlers as a body to perceive the advantage of taking
their due share in the necessary work of society under a just system of Socialism.
X—REVOLUTION.
Q. On what ground do capitalists defend the principle of competition ? A. On the
eround that it brings into play a man’s best qualities.
Q. Does it effect this? A. This is occasionally its result; but it also brings out his
worst qualities, by stimulating him to struggle with his fellows for the relative improve
ment of his own position rather than for the absolute advancement of the interests of all.
Q. Why does this happen? A. Because in ordinary competition one man’s gain is
another’s loss.
Q. What is the theory of the Survival of the Fittest? A. That the class of persons
who are most fitted to live and propagate their race in the conditions with which it is
surrounded, is certain to survive the rest.
Q. Are the existing social conditions favourable to the survival of those persons whose
character renders them most valuable to society ? A. On the contrary, they favour the
survival of the most valueless.
Q. What is the final result of such conditions and surroundings as the filth, foul airand squalor of a town rookery ? A. The crushing out of those who are least able to
adapt themselves to these surroundings; and the consequent survival of those who are
most fit for filth, but least for decent social life.
Q. Does the law of the Survival of the Fittest affect men in the same way as it affects
the lower animals? A. No; because it is possible for men to alter their surroundings,
while other animals must simply adapt themselves to them, whatever they may be.
Q. What is the Revolution for which Socialists strive? A. A Revolution in the
methods of the distribution of wealth corresponding to that which has already taken
place in the means of its production.
Q. What change has already taken place ? A . Wealth is now almost entirely pro
duced by the associated effort of great numbers of men working in concert, instead of by
individual effort as in former times; while individuals still possess command of its
distribution, and use their power in their own interests.
Q. How are forms of government changed so as to re-adjust them to the economical
changes in the forms of production which have been silently evolving in the body of
society ? A. By means of Revolutions.
Q. Give an instance of this ? A. The French Revolution of 1789.
Q. Did that Revolution fail to attain its objects ? A. Certainly not; but its objects
were not those at which Socialists aim.
Q. What were its objects ? A. The political expression of the fact that feudalism was
demolished, and the reign of capitalism established on its ruins
Q. What do you mean by this? A. The overthrow of the political supremacy of
the landed aristocracy, and the establishment of a bourgeois plutocracy; that is, putting
the political power into the hands of the merchants and money-lords of the middle
class.
Q. What change in the forms of production had rendered this inevitable? A The
�fact that the possession of agricultural land had ceased to be the chief means to the
attainment of wealth.
Q. What, then, had taken its place ? A. The possession of capital and the use of
machinery.
Q. In what sense was that Revolution a selfish struggle? A. After the displacement
of the upper by the middle-class in political and social supremacy, the latter established
its own pow’er irrespectively of the rights of any other class.
Q. Is not the struggle which precedes and heralds the Social Revolution one of selfish
class interests in the same way ? A. By no means; Socialists do not aim at the
supremacy of a class or section of the community at the expense of other sections.
Q. Do they not wish the workers to control the State ? A. Certainly they do.
Q. Is not this the supremacy of a class? A. No, for they insist that every ablebodied person of sound mind should do a fair share of necessary wcrk. When all are
workers, the workers will be no longer a class, but a nation.
Q. What, then will become of the class-selfishnes of the workers ? A. Selfishness will
then become public spirit, when the motives which formerly led men to work for the
interests and advancement of themselves alone, operate for the benefit of the whole
human race with which their class has become identified.
THE
OBJECT.
The Establishment of a Free Condition of Society based on the prin
ciple of Political Equality, with Equal Social Rights for all and the
complete Emancipation of Labour.
PROGRAMME.
1. All Officers or Administrators to be elected by Equal Direct Adult
Suffrage, and to be paid by the Community.
2. Legislation by the People, in such wise that no project of Law
shall become legally binding till accepted by the Majority of the People.
3. The Abolition of a Standing Army, and the Establishment of a
National Citizen Force; the People to decide on Peace or War.
4. All Education, higher no less than elementary, to be Free, Com
pulsory, Secular, and Industrial for all alike.
5. The Administration of Justice to be Free and Gratuitous for all
Members of Society.
6. The Land with all the Mines, Railways and other Means of Tran
sit, to be declared and treated as Collective or Common Property.
7. Ireland and all other parts of the Empire to have Legislative
Independence.
8. The Production of Wealth to be regulated by Society in the com
mon interest of all its Members.
g. The Means of Production, Distribution and Exchange to be
declared and treated as Collective or Common Property.
As measures called for to palliate the evils of our existing society the
Social-Democratic Federation urges for immediate adoption :—
The Compulsory Construction of healthy artizan’s and agricultural
labourers’ dwellings in proportion to the population, such dwellings to
be let at rents to cover the cost of construction and maintenance alone.
Free Compulsory Education for all classes, together with the provision
of at least one wholesome meal a day in each school.
�Eight Hours or less to be the normal working day in all trades.
Cumulative Taxation upon all incomes above a fixed minimum not
exceeding /"300 a year.
State Appropriation of Railways, with or without compensation.
The establishment of National Banks, which shall absorb all private
institutions that derive a profit from operations in money or credit.
Rapid Extinction of the National Debt.
Nationalisation of the Land, and organisation cf agricultural and
industrial armies under State control on Co-operative principles.
As means for the peaceable attainment of these objects the SocialDemocratic Federation advocates :
Adult Suffrage. Annual Parliaments. Proportional Represen
tation.
Payment of Members ; and Official Expenses of Election
out of the Rates.
Abolition of the House of Lords and all
Hereditary Authorities. Disestablishment and Disendowment
of all State Churches.
Membership of Branches of the Federation is open to all who agree
with its objects, and subscribe One Penny per week.
Those ready to form Branches should communicate with the
Secretary, Social-Democratic Federation, Bridge House, Blackfriars. E. C.
All who are interested, in Socialism
should, read.
THE FOLLOWING PUBLICATIONS OF
THE MODERN PRESS, 13, Paternoster Row, London, E.C.
Which will be sent post free at the published prices on receipt of
an order amounting to one shilling or more.
(The Publications of the Modern Press can be obtained from W. L.
Rosenberg, 261, East Tenth Street, New York City.)
Socialism made Plain.
The social and political
manifesto of the Social-Democratic Federation issued in June 1883 ;
with “The Unemployed,” a Manifesto issued after the “ Riots in
the West End” on 8th February, 1886. Sixty-first thousand.
Crown 8-vo., paper cover, price id.
“ JUSTICE,” the Organ of the Social Democracy. Every
Saturday, one penny.
Socialist Rhymes
from Justice.
By J. L. Joynes.
Reprinted chiefly
Demy 8-vo., price id.
Summary of the Principles of Socialism.
By
H. M. Hyndman and William Morris. Second edition, 64-pp.
crown 8-vo., in wrapper designed by Wm. Morris, price 4d.
This gives an account of the growth of capitalist production, and concludes with a
statement of the demands of English Socialists for the immediate future.
Herbert Spencer on Socialism. By Frank Fairman.
16-pp. crown 8-vo., price id.
�'x'\x\'cw\xye^A>:
I
Socialism and Soldiering*; with some comments on the
Army Enlistment Fraud. By George Bateman (Late 23rd Regi
ment), with Portrait. With an introduction by H. H. Champion
(Late Royal Artillery). Price One Penny.
The Working Man’s Programme (Arbeiter Programm). By Ferdinand Lassalle. Translated from the German
by Edward Peters. Crown 8-vo., paper cover, price 6d.
The Robbery of the Poor.
By W. H. P. Campbell.
Demy 8-vo., paper cover, price 6d.
The Appeal to the Young.
By Prince Peter
Kropotkin. Translated from the French by H. M. Hyndman and
reprinted from Justice. Royal 8-vo., 16-pp. Price one penny.
The most eloquent and noble appeal to the generous emotions ever penned by a
scientific man. Its author has just suffered five years’ imprisonment at the hands of the
French Republic for advocating the cause of the workers
Wage-Labour and Capital. From the German of
Karl Marx translated by J. L. Joynes and reprinted from Justice.
New and cheaper edition, Royal 8-vo., price id.
By Edward Carpenter —Social Progress and Indi
vidual Effort; Desirable Mansions; and Co-operative Production.
One penny each.
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April gth, 1886. (From the Verbatim Notes of the official short
hand reporter.) With Portrait. Price threepence.
The Socialist Catechism. By J. L. Joynes. Reprinted
with additions from Justice.
Demy 8-vo., price id. 20th thousand.
Socialism and Slavery. By H. M. Hyndman.
(In
The Emigration Fraud Exposed.
By H.
M.
What an Eight Hours Bill Means.
By T. Mann
reply to Mr. Herbert Spencer’s article on “ The Coming Slavery.”)
New Edition, with portrait. 16 pp. Royal 8-vo., price one penny.
Hyndman. With a Portrait of the Author. Reprinted by per
mission from the Nineteenth Century for February, 1885. Crown 8-vo.,
price one penny.
(Amalgamated Engineers). New edition with portrait.
Thousand. Price one penny.
Socialism and the Worker.
By F.
A.
Sixth
Sorge.
Price id.
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The Chicago Riots and the Class War in the
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Price one penny.
International Trade Union Congress, held at Paris,
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�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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The socialist catechism
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Joynes, J. L. (James Leigh) [-1893.]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 4, [2] p. ; 23 cm.
Notes: Reprinted with additions from: Justice. 23rd thousand edition. Publisher's list on unnumbered page at the end. Information on the Social-Democratic Federation, p. 14.
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The Modern Press
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1885
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Socialism
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (A defence of atheism: being a lecture delivered in Mercantile Hall, Boston, April 10, 1861), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Capitalism
Socialism
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gA<
PRICE ONE PENNY.
BY
KARL
MARX.
Translated by J. L. JOYNES,
Author of “ADVENTURES OF A TOURIST IN IRELAND,”
“ THE
SOCIALIST CATECHISM,” “ SOCIALIST RHYMES.”
NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION.
(<»(
*
~
® ® -A E Y
LU
THE MODERN PRESS, 13,
Paternoster Row, London,
E.CE
Agent for U.S.A., W. L. Rosenberg, 261, East Tenth St., New York City.
1886.
�THE
SOCIAL-DEMOCRATILFEDERATION.
OBJECT.
The Establishment of a Free Condition of Society based on the prin
ciple of Political Equality, with Equal Social Rights for all and the
complete Emancipation of Labour.
PROGRAMME.
1. All Officers or Administrators to be elected by Equal Direct Adult
Suffrage, and to be paid by the Community.
2. Legislation by the People, in such wise that no project of Law
shall become legally binding till accepted by the Majority of the People.
3. The Abolition of a Standing Army, and the Establishment of a
National Citizen Force; the People to decide on Peace or War.
4. All Education, higher no less than elementary, to be Free, Com
pulsory, Secular, and Industrial for all alike.
5. The Administration of Justice to be Free and Gratuitous for all
Members of Society.
6. The Land with all the Mines, Railways and other Means of Tran
sit, to be declared and treated as Collective or Common Property.
7. Ireland and all other parts of the Empire to have Legislative
Independence.
8. The Production of Wealth to be regulated by Society in the com
mon interest of all its Members.
9. The Means of Production, Distribution and Exchange to be
declared and treated as Collective or Common Property.
As measures called for to palliate the evils of our existing society the
Social-Democratic Federation urges for immediate adoption :—
The Compulsory Construction of healthy artizan’s and agricultural
labourers’ dwellings in proportion to the population, such dwellings to
be let at rents to cover the cost of construction and maintenance alone.
Free Compulsory Education for all classes, together with the provision
of at least one wholesome meal a day in each school.
Eight Hours or less to be the normal working day in all trades.
Cumulative Taxation upon all incomes above a fixed minimum not
exceeding ^300 a year.
State Appropriation of Railways, with or without compensation.
The establishment of National Banks, which shall absorb all private
institutions that derive a profit from operations in money or credit.
Rapid Extinction of the National Debt.
Nationalisation of the Land, and organisation of agricultural and
industrial armies under State control on Co-operative principles.
As means for the peaceable attainment of these objects the SocialDemocratic Federation advocates :
Adult Suffrage. Annual Parliaments. Proportional Represen
Payment of Members ; and Official Expenses of Election
out of the Rates.
Abolition of the House of Lords and all
Hereditary Authorities.
Disestablishment and Disendowment
of all State Churches.
tation.
Membership of Branches of the Federation is open to all who agree
with its objects, and subscribe One Penny per week.
Those ready to form Branches should communicate with the
Secretary, Social-Democratic Federation, Bridge House, Blackfriars, E.C.
�WAGE-LABOUR AND CAPITAL.
What are wages, and, how are they determined. ?
±* we were to ask the labourers, “ How much wages do you get ? ” one
would reply, “ I get a couple of shillings a day from my employer ; ”
another, “I get half-a-crown,” and so on. According to the differen
trades to which they belong, they would name different sums of
money which they receive from their particular employers, either for
working for a certain length of time, or for performing a certain
piece of work ; for example, either for weaving an ell of cloth, or for setting up a
certain amount of type, But in spite of this difference in their statements there
is one point in which they would all agree : their wages are the amount of money
which their employer pays them either for working a certain length of time, or
for a certain amount of work done.
Thus their employer buys their work formoney. For money they sell their
■ work to him. With the same sum for which the employer has bought their
work, as for instance, with a couple of shillings, he might have bought four
pounds of sugar, or a proportionate amount of any other wares, The two shil
lings with which he buys the four pounds of sugar, is the price of four pounds of
sugar. The two shillings with which he buys labour for twelve hours, is the
price of twelve hours’ work. Work is therefore as much a commodity as sugar,
neither more nor less, only they measure the former by the clock, the latter by
the scales.
The labourersexchange their own commodity with their employers’—work for
money ; and this exchange takes place according to a fixed proportion. So much
money for so much work. For twelve hours’ weaving, two shillings. And do not
these two shillings represent two shillings’ worth of all other commodities ? Thus
the labourer has, in fact, exchanged his own commodity—work, with all kinds of
orher commodities, and that in a fixed proportion. His employer in giving him
two shillings, has given him so much meat, so much clothing, so much fuel, light,
and so on, in exchange for his day’s work. The two shillings, therefore, express
the proportion in which his work is exchanged with other commodities—the
exchange-value of his work; and the exchange-value of any commodity expressed
in money is called its price. Wage is, therefore, only another name for the
price of work—for the price of this peculiar piece of property which can have no
local habitation at all except in human flesh and blood.
Take the case of any workman, a weaver for instance. The employer supplies
him with thread and loom. The weaver sets to work, and the thread is turned
into cloth. The employer takes possession of the cloth and sells it, say for twenty
shillings. Does the weaver receive as wages a share in the cloth—in the twenty
shillings—in the product of his labour ? By no means. The weaver receives his
wages long before the product is sold. The employer does not, therefore, pay his
wages with the money he will get for the cloth, but with money previously pro
vided. Loom and thread are not the weaver’s produce, since they are supplied
by the employer, and no more are the commodities which he receives in exchange
fer his own commodity, or in other words, for his work, It is possible that the
employer finds no purchaser for his cloth. It may be that by its sale he does not
recover even the wages he has paid. It may be that in comparison with the
weaver’s wages he made a great bargain by its sale. But all this has nothing
whatever to do with the weaver. The employer purchases the weaver's labour
with a part of his available property—of his capital—in exactly the same way as
he has with another part of his property bought the raw material—the thread—
and the instrument of labour—the loom. As soon as he has made these pur
chases—and he reckons among them the purchase of the labour necessary to the
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production of the cloth—he proceeds to produce it by means of the raw material
and the instruments which belong to him. Among these last is, of course,
reckoned our worthy weaver, who has as little share in the product, or in the
price of the product, as the loom itself.
Wages, therefore, are not the worker’s share of the commodities which he has
produced. Wages are the share of commodities previously produced, with
which the employer purchases a certain amount of productive labour.
Labour is, therefore, a commodity which its owner the wage worker sells to
capital. Why does he sell it ? In order to live.
But labour is the peculiar expression of the energy of the labourer’s life.
And this energy he sells to another party, in order to secure for himself the
means of living. For him, therefore, his energy is nothing but a means of ensur
ing his own existence. He works to live. He does not count the work itself as a
part of his life, rather is it a sacrifice of his life. It is a commodity which he has
made over to another party. Neither is its product the aim of his activity. What
he produces for himself is not the silk he weaves, nor the place that he builds, nor
the gold that ne digs from out the mine. What he produces for himself is his
wage ; and silk, gold, and palaces are transformed for him into a certain quantity
of means of existence—a cotton shirt, some copper coins, and a lodging in a
cellar. And what of the labourer, who for twelve hours weaves, spins, bores,
turns, builds, shovels, breaks stones, carries loads, and so on ? Does his twelve
hours’ weaving, spinning, boring, turning, building, shovelling, and stone-breaking
represent the active expression of his life? On the contrary. Life begins for
him exactly where this activity of his ceases—at his meals, on the public-house
bench, in his bed. His twelve hours’ work has no meaning for him as weaving,
spinning, boring, etc., but only as earnings whereby he may obtain his meals, his
seat in the public-house, his bed. If the silkworm’s object in spinning were to
prolong its existence as a caterpillar, it would be a perfect example of a wage
worker.
Labour was not always a commodity. Labour was not always wage-work, that
is, a marketable commodity. The slave does not sell his labour to the slave
owner. The slave along with his labour is sold once for all to his owner. He
is a commodity which can pass from the hand of one owner to that of another.
He himself is a commodity, but his labour is not his commodity. The serf sells
only a portion of his labour. He does not receive his wages from the owner of
the soil; rather the owner of the soil receives a tribute from him. The serf be
longs to the soil, and to the lord of the soil he brings its fruits. The free labourer,
on the other hand, sells himself, and that by fractions. From day to day he sells
by auction eight, ten, twelve, fifteen hours of his life to the highest bidder—to
the owner of the raw material, the instruments of work, and the means of life;
that is, to the employer. The labourer himself belongs neither to an owner nor
to the soil : but eight, ten, twelve, fifteen hours of his daily life belong to the man
who buys them. The labourer leaves the employer to whom he has hired him
self whenever he pleases; and the employer discharges him whenever he thinks
fit; either as soon as he ceases to make a profit out of him, or fails to get so
high a profit as he requires. But the labourer, whose only source of earning is
the sale of his labour, cannot leave the whole class of his purchasers, that is, the
capitalist class, without renouncing his own existence. He does not belong to
this or that particular employer, but he does belong to the employing class;
and more than that, it is his business to find an employer ; that is, among this
employing class it is his business to discover his own particular purchaser.
Before going more closely into the relations between capital and wage-work, it
will be well to give a brief survey of those general relations which are taken into
consideration in determining the amount of wages.
As we have seen, wages are the price of a certain commodity—labour. Wages
are thus determined by the same law which regulates the'price of any other
commodity.
Thereupon the question arises, how is the price of a commodity determined ?
By what means is the price of a commodity determined ?
By means of competition between buyers and sellers, and the relation between
supply and demand—offer and desire. And this competition by which the price
of an article is fixed, is three-fold.
The same commodity is offered in the market by various sellers. Whoever
offers the greatest advantage to purchasers is certain to drive the other sellers off
the field, and secure for himself the greatest sale. The sellers, therefore, fight for
the sale and the market among themselves. Everyone of them wants to sell,
and does his best to sell much, and if possible to become the only seller. There
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fore each outbids the other in cheapness, and a competition takes place among
the sellers which lowers the price of the goods they offer.
But a competition also goes on among the purchasers, which on their side
raises the price of the goods offered.
Finally there arises a competition between buyers and sellers; the one set
want to buy as cheap as possible, the other to sell as dear as possible. The result
of this competition between buyers and sellers will depend upon the relations of
the two previous aspects of the competition ; that is, upon whether the compe
tition in the ranks of the buyers or that in those of the sellers is the keener.
Business thus leads two opposing armies into the field, and each of them again
presents the aspect of a battle in its own ranks between its own soldiers. That
army whose troops are least mauled by one another carries off the victory over
the opposing host.
.
Let us suppose that there are a hundred bales of cotton in the market, and at
the same time buyers in -want of a thousand bales. In this case the demand is
greater than the supply. The competition between the buyers will therefore be
intense • each of them will do his best to get hold of all the hundred bales of
cotton ’ This example is no arbitrary supposition. In the history of the trade
we have experienced periods of failure of the cotton plant, when particular com
panies of capitalists have endeavoured to purchase, not only a hundred bales of
cotton but the whole stock of cotton in the world. Therefore, in the case sup
posed ’ each buyer will try to beat the others out of the field by offering a pro
portionately higher price for the cotton. The cotton-sellers, perceiving the troops
of the hostile host in violent combat with one another, and being perfectly secure
as to the sale of all their hundred bales, will take very good care not to begin
squabbling among themselves in order to depress the price at the very moment
when their adversaries are emulating each other ;in the process of screwing it
higher up. Peace is therefore suddenly proclaimed in the army of the sellers.
They present a united front to the purchaser, and fold their arms in philosophic
content ■ and their claims would be absolutely boundless if it were not that the
offers of even the most pressing and eager of the buyers must always have some
definite limit.
Thus if the supply of a commodity is not so great as the demand tor it, the
competition between the buyers waxes.
Result; A more or less important rise
in the price of goods.
.
As a rule the converse case is of commoner occurrence, producing an opposite
result. Large excess of supply over demand ; desperate competition among the
sellers; dearth of purchasers ; forced sale of goods dirt cheap.
But what is the meaning of the rise and fall in price ? What is the meaning
of higher price or lower price ? A grain of sand is high when examined through
a microscope, and a tower is low when compared with a mountain. And if price
is determined by the relation between supply and demand, how is the relation
between supply and demand itself determined ?
.
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Let us turn to the first worthy citizen we meet. . He will not take an instant
to consider but like a second Alexander the Great will cut the metaphysical knot
by the help of his multiplication table. “ If the production of the goods which
I sell” he will tell us, “has cost me /ioo, and I get pro by their sale—within
the year you understand—that’s what I call a sound, honest, reasonable profit.
But if I make £120 or £130 by the sale, that is a higher profit; and if I were to
get a good Z200, that would be an exceptional, an enormous profit.” What is it
then that serves our citizen as to the measure of his profit ? The cost of pro
duction of his goods. If he receives in exchange for them an amount of other
goods whose production has cost less, he has lost by his bargain. If he receives
an amount whose production has cost more, he has gained. And he reckons the
rise and fall of his profit by the number of degrees at which it stands with refer
ence to his zero—the cost of production.
_
We have now seen how the changing proportion between supply and demaud
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produces the rise and fall of prices, making them at one time high at another
low. If through failure in the supply, or exceptional increase in the demand,
an important rise in the price of a commodity takes place, then the price of
another commodity must have fallen ; for,, of course, the price of a commodity
only expresses in money the proportion in which other commodities can be
exchanged with it. For instance, if the price of a yard of silk rises from five |to
six shillings, the price of silver has fallen in comparison with silk ; and in the
same way the price of all other commodities which remain at their old prices has
fallen if compared with silk. We have to give a larger quantity of them m
exchange in order to obtain the same quantity of silk. Aud what is the result ot
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a rise in the price of a commodity ? A mass of capital is thrown into that flourish
ing branch of business, and the immigration of capital into the province of the
privileged business will last until the ordinary level of profits is attained; or
rather, until the price of the products sinks through overproduction.
Conversely, if the price of a commodity falls below the cost of its production,
capital will be withdrawn from the production of this commodity. Except in
the case of a branch of industry which has become obsolete and is therefore
doomed to disappear, the result of this flight of capital will be that the production
cf this commodity, and therefore its supply, will continually dwindle until it
corresponds to the demand; and thus its price rises again to the level of the cost
of its production ; or rather, until the supply has fallen below the demand ; that
is, until its price has again risen above its cost of production ; for the price of
any commodity is always either above or below its cost of production.
We see then how it is that capital is always immigrating and emigrating, from
the province of one industry into that of another. It is high prices that bring
about an excessive immigration, and low prices an excess of emigration.
We might show from another point of view how not only the supply, but
also the demand is determined by the cost of production ; _but this would lead us
too far from our present subject.
We have just seen how the fluctuations of supply and demand always reduce
the price of a commodity to its cost of production. It is true that the precise
price of a commodity is always either above or below its cost of production;
but the rise and fall reciprocally balance each other, so within a certain period,
if the ebb and flow of the business are reckoned up together, commodities are
exchanged with one another in accordance with their cost of production ; and
thus their cost of production determines their price.
The determination of price by cost of production is not to be understood
in the sense of the economists. The economists declare that the average price
of commodities is equal to the cost of production ; this, according to them, is a
law. The anarchical movements in which the rise is compensated by the fall,
and the fall by the rise, they ascribe to chance. With just as good a right as
this, which the other economists assume, we might consider the fluctuations as
the law, and ascribe the fixing of price by cost of production to chance. But if
we look closely, we see that it is precisely these fluctuations, although they bring
the most terrible desolation in their train and shake the fabric of bourgeois
society like earthquakes, it is precisely these fluctuations which in their course
determine price by cost of production. In the totality of this disorderly move
ment is to be found its order. Throughout these alternating movements, in the
course of this industrial anarchy, competition, as it were, cancels one excess by
means of another.
We gather, therefore, that the price of a commodity is determined by its
cost of production, in such manner that the periods in which the price of this
commodity rises above its cost of production are compensated by the periods in
which it sinks below this cost, and conversely. Of course this does not hold
good for one single particular product of an industry, but only for that entire
branch of industry. So also it does not hold good for a particular manufacturer,
but only for the entire industrial class.
The determination of price by cost of production is the same thing as its
determination by the duration of the labour which is required for the manu
facture of a commodity; for cost of production may be divided into (i) raw
material and implements, that is, products of industry whose manufacture has
cost a certain number of days’ work, and which therefore represents a certain
duration of labour, and (2) actual labour, which is measured by its duration.
Now the same general laws, which universally regulate the price of com
modities, regulate, of course, wages, the price of labour.
Wages will rise and fall in accordance with the proportion between demand
and supply, that is, in accordance with the conditions of the competition between
capitalists as buyers, and labourers as sellers of labour. The fluctuations of
wages correspond in general with the fluctuations in the price of commodities.
Within these fluctuations the price of labour is regulated by its cost of production,
that is, by the duration of labour which is required in order to produce this
commodity, labour.
Now what is the cost of production of labour itself?
It is the cost required for the production of a labourer and for,his maintenance
as a labourer.
The shorter the time requisite for instruction in any labour, the less is the
labourer's cost of production, and the lower are his wages, the price of his work
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In those branches of industry which scarcely require any oeriod of apprenticeship,
and where the mere bodily existence of the labourer is sufficient, the requisite
cost of his production and maintenance are almost limited to the cost of the
commodities which are requisite to keep him alive, The price of his labour is
therefore determined by the price of the bare necessaries of his existence.
Here, however, another consideration comes in. The manufacturer, who
reckons up his expenses of production and determines accordingly the price of
the product, takes into account the wear and tear of the machinery. If a
machine costs him /ioo and wears itself out in ten years, he adds £10 a-year to
the price of his goods, in order to replace the worn-out machine by a new one
when the ten years are up. In the same way we must reckon in the cost of pro
duction of simple labour the cost of its propagation ; so that the race of labourers
may be put in a position to multiply and to replace the worn-out workers by new
ones. Thus the wear and tear of the labourer must be taken into account just
as much as the wear and tear of the machine.
Thus the cost of the production of simple labour amounts to
cost of the
labourer’s subsistence and propagation, and the price of this cost determines his
wages. When we speak of wages we mean the minimum of wages. This mini
mum of wages holds good, just as does the determination by the cost of pro
duction of the price of commodities in general, not for the particular individual,
but for the species.
Individual labourers, indeed millions of them, do not
receive enough to enable them to subsist and propagate; but the wages of the
whole working class with all their fluctuations are nicely adjusted to this minimum.
Now that we are grounded on these general laws which govern wages just as
much as the price of any other commodity, we can examine our subject more
exactly,
“Capital consists of raw material, implements of labour, and all kinds of
means of subsistence, which are used for the production of new implements and
new means of subsistence. All these factors of capital are created by labour,
are products of labour, are stored-up labour. Stored-up labour which serves as
the means of new production is capital.”
So say the economists.
What is a negro slave ? A human creature of the black race. The one
definition is just as valuable as the other.
A negro is a negro. In certain conditions he is transformed into a slave.
A spinning-jenny is a machine for spinning cotton. Only in certain conditions is
it transformed into capital. When torn away from these conditions, it is just as
little capital as gold is money in the abstract, or sugar the price of sugar. In
the work of production men do not stand in relation to nature alone. They
only produce when they work together in a certain way, and mutually exchange
their different kinds of energy. In order to produce, they mutually enter upon
certain relations and conditions, and it is only by means of these relations and
conditions that .their relation to nature is defined, and production becomes
possible.
These social relations upon which the producers mutnally enter, the terms
upon which they exchange their energies and take their share in the collective
act of production, will of course differ according to the character of the means
of production. With the invention of firearms as implements of warfare the
whole organisation of the army was of necessity altered ; and with the alteration
in the relations through which individuals form an army, and are enabled to
work together as an army, there was a simultaneous alteration in the relations of
armies to one another.
Thus with the change in the social relations by means of which individuals,
produce, that is, in the social relations of production, and with the alteration and
development of the material means of production, the powers of production arealso transformed, The relations of production collectively form those social
relations which we call a society, and a society with definite degrees of historical
development, a society with an appropriate and distinctive character. Ancient
society, feudal society, bourgeois society, are instances of this collective result of
the relations of production, each of which marks out an important step in the
historical development of mankind.
Now capital also is a social condition of production. It is a bourgeois condition
of production, a condition of the production of a bourgeois society. Are not the
means of subsistence, the implements of labour, and the raw material, of which
capital consists, the results of definite social relations ; were they not produced
and stored up under certain social conditions ? Will they not be used for further
production under certain social conditions ? And is it not just this definite social
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character which transforms into capital that product which serves for further
production ?
Capital does not consist of means of subsistence, implements of labour, and
raw material alone, nor only of material products; it consists just as much of
■exchange-values. All the products of which it consists are commodities. Thus
capital is not merely the sum of material products ; it is a sum of commodities,
of exchange-values, of social quantities.
Capital remains unchanged if we substitute cotton for wool, rice for corn,
and steamers for railways; provided only that the cotton, the rice, the steamers
—the bodily form of capital—have the same exchange value, the same price, as
the wool, the corn, the railways, in which it formerly embodied itself, The
bodily form of capital may change continually, while the capital itself undergoes
not the slightest alteration.
But though all capital is a sum of commodities, that is, of exchange-values,
it is not every sum of commodities, of exchange-values, that is capital.
Every sum of exchange-values is an exchange-value. For instance, a house
worth a thousand pounds is an exchange-value of a thousand pounds. A penny
worth of paper is the sum of the exchange-values of a hundred-hundreths of a
penny. Products which may be mutually exchanged are commodities. The
definite proportion in which they are exchangeable forms their exchange-value,
or, expressed in money, their price. The amount of these products can do
nothing to alter their definition as being commodities, or as representing an
■exchange-value, or as having a certain price. Whether a tree is large or small, it
remains a tree. Whether we exchange iron for other wares in ounces or in
hundredweights, that makes no difference in its character as a commodity
possessing exchange-value. According to its amount it is a commodity of more
■or less worth, with a higher or lower price.
How then can a sum of commodities, of exchange-values, become capital ?
By maintaining and multiplying itself as an independent social power, that
is, as the power of a portion of society, by means of its exchange for direct, living
labour. Capital necessarily pre-supposes the existence of a class which possesses
nothing but labour-force.
It is the lordship of past, stored-up, realised labour over actual, living labour
that transforms the stored-up labour into capital.
Capital does not consist in the fact that stored-up labour is used by living labour
as a means to further production. It consists in the fact that living labours serves
as the means whereby stored-up labour may maintain and multiply its own
■exchange-value.
What is it that takes place in the exchange between capital and wage-work ?
The labourer receives in exchange for his labour the means of subsistence ;
but the capitalist receives in exchange for the means of subsistence labour, the
productive energy of the labourer, the creative force whereby the labourer not
only replaces what he consumes, but also gives to the stored-up labour a greater
value than it had before. The labourer receives from the capitalist a share of
the previously provided means of subsistence. To what use does he put
these means of subsistence ?
He uses them for immediate consump
tion. But as soon as I consume my means of subsistence, they disappear
and are irrecoverably lost to me; it therefore becomes necessary that I should
employ the time during which these means keep me alive in order to produce
new means of subsistence ; so that during their consumption I may provide by
my labour new value in the place of that which thus disappears. But it is just
this grand reproductive power which the labourer has to bargain away to capital
in exchange for the means of subsistence which he receives. To him therefore it
is entirely lost.
Let us take an example. A farmer gives his day-labourer two shillings a
day. For this two shillings he works throughout the day on the farmer’s field,
and so secures him a return of four shillings. The farmer does not merely get
the value which he had advanced to the day-labourer replaced ; he doubles it.
He has thus spent or consumed the two shillings which he gave to the daylabourer in a fruitful and productive fashion. He has bought for his two shil
lings just that labour and force of the day-labourer which produces fruits of the
earth of twice the value, and turns two shillings into four. The day-labourer on
the other hand receives in place of his productive force, which he has just bar
gained away to the farmer, two shillings: and these he exchanges for means of
subsistence ; which means of subsistence he proceeds with more or less speed to
consume. The two shillings have thus been consumed in double fashion ; pro
ductively for capital, since they have been exchanged for the labour-force which
�produced the four shillings; unproductively for the labourer, since they have
been exchanged for means of subsistence which have disappeared for ever,
and whose value he can only recover by repeating the same bargain with tha
farmer. Thus capital presupposes wage-labour, and wage-labour presupposes
capital. They condition one another ; and each brings the other into play.
Does a labourer in a cotton factory produce merely cotton ? No, he produces
capital. He produces value which serves afresh to command his own labour,
and to create new value by its means.
Capital can only increase when it is exchanged for labour, when it calls
wage-labour into existence. Wage-labour can only be exchanged for capital
by augmenting capital and strengthening the power whose slave it is. An
increase of capital is therefore an increase of the proletariat, that is, of the
labouring class.
The interests of the capitalist and the labourer are therefore identical, assert
the bourgeoisie and their economists, And, in fact, so they are ! The labourer
perishes if capital does not employ him. Capital perishes if it does not exploit
labour ; and in order to exploit it, it must buy it. The faster the capital devoted
to production—the productive capital—increases, and the more successfully the
industry is carried on, the richer do the bourgeoisie become, the better does
business go, the more labourers does the capitalist require, and the dearer does
the labourer sell himself.
Thus the indispensable condition of the labourer’s securing a tolerable posi
tion is the speediest possible growth of productive capital.
But what is the meaning of the increase of productive capital ? The increase
of the power of stored-up labour over living labour. The increase of the dominion
of the bourgeoisie over the labouring class. As fast as wage-labour creates its
own antagonist and its own master in the dominating power of capital, the
means of employment, that is, of subsistence, flow back to it from its antagonist;
but only on the condition that it is itself transformed afresh into a portion of
capital, and becomes the lever whereby the increase of capital may be again
hugely accelerated.
Thus the statement that the interests of capital and labour are identical comes
to mean merely this : capital and wage-labour are the two terms of one and the
same proportion. The one conditions the other, just in the same way that the
usurer and the borrower condition each other mutually.
So long as the wage-labourer remains a wage-labourer, his lot in life is
dependent upon capital. That is the exact meaning of the famous community of
interests between capital and labour.
The increase of capital is attended by an increase in the amount of wage
labour and in the number of wage-labourers; or, in other words, the dominion of
capital is spread over a larger number of individuals. And, to give the most
fortunate event possible, with the increase of productive capital there is an
increase in the demand for labour. And thus wages, the price of labour, will rise.
A house may be large or small: but as long as the surrounding houses are
equally small, it satisfies all social expectations as a dwelling place. But let a
palace arise by the side of this small house, and it shrinks from a house into a
hut. The smallness of the house now gives it to be understood that its occupant
has either very small pretentions or none at all; and however high it may shoot
up with the progress of civilisation, if the neighbouring palace shoots up also in
the same or in greater proportion, the occupant of the comparatively small house
will always find himself more uncomfortable, more discontented, more confined
within his four walls.
A notable advance in the amount paid as wages brings about a rapid increase
of productive capital. The rapid increase of productive capital calls forth just as
rapid an increase in wealth, luxury, social wants, and social comforts. Therefore,
although the comforts of the labourer have risen, the social satisfaction which
they give has fallen in comparison'jwith^these'augmented comforts of the capitalist
which are unattainable for the labourer, and in comparison with the general
development of comforts. Our wants and their satisfaction have their origin
in society; we therefore measure them in their relation to society, and not in
relation to the objects which satisfy them. Since their nature is social, it is
therefore relative.
As a rule then, wages are not determined merely by the amount of commo
dities for which they may be exchanged. They depend upon various relations.
What the labourer immediately receives for his labour is a certain sum
of money. Are wages determined merely by this money price ?
In the sixteenth century the gold and silver in circulation in Europe was
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augmented in consequence of the discovery of America. The value of gold and
silver fell, therefore, in proportion to other commodities. The labourers received
for their labour the same amount of silver coin as before. The money price of
their labour remained the same, and yet their wages had fallen, for in exchange
for the same sum of silver they obtained a smaller quantity of other commo
dities. This was one of the circumstances which furthered the increase of
capital and the rise of the bourgeoisie in the sixteenth century.
Let us take another case. In the winter of 1847, in consequence of a failure
in the crops, there was an important increase in the price of the indispensable
means of subsistence, corn, meat, butter, cheese, and so on, We will suppose
that the labourers still received the same sum of money for their labour as
before. Had not their wages fallen then ? Of course they had. For the same
amount of money they received in exchange less bread, meat, etc. ; and their
wages had fallen, not because the value of silver had diminished, but because the
value of the means of subsistence had increased.
Let us finally suppose that the money price of labour remains the same,
while in consequence of the employment of new machinery, or on account of a
good season, or for some similar reason, there is a fall in the price of all agri
cultural and manufactured goods. For the same amount of money the labourers
can now buy more commodities of all kinds. Their wages have therefore risen,
just because their money price has not changed.
The money price of labour, the nominal amount of wages, does not there
fore fall together with the real wages, that is, with the amount of commodities
that may practically be obtained in exchange for the wages. Therefore if we
speak of the rise and fall of wages, the money price of labour, or the nominal
wage, is not the only thing which we must keep in view.
But neither the nominal wages, that is, the amount of money for which the
labourer sells himself to the employer, nor yet the real wages, that is, the amount
of commodities which he can buy for this money, exhaust the relations which are
comprehended in the term wages.
For the meaning of the word is chiefly determined by its relation to the gain
or profit of the employer—it is a proportionate and relative expression.
The real wage expresses the price of labour in relation to the price of other
commodities; the relative wage, on the contrary, expresses the price of direct
labour in relation to that of stored-up labour, the relative value of wage-labour
and capital, the proportionate value of capitalist and labourer.
Real wages may remain the same, or they may even rise, and yet the relative
wages may none the less have fallen. Let us assume, for example, that the price
of all the means of subsistence has fallen by two-thirds, while a day’s wages have
only fallen one-third, as for instance, from three shillings to two. Although the
labourer has a larger amount of commodities at his disposal for two shillings
than he had before for three, yet his wages are nevertheless diminished in pro
portion to the capitalist’s gain. The capitalist’s profit—the manufacturer's, for
instance—has been augmented by a shilling, since for the smaller sum of exchange
value which he pays to the labourer, the labourer has to produce a larger sum of
exchange-value than he did before. The value of capital is raised in proportion
to the value of labour. The division of social wealth between capital and labour
has become more disproportionate. The capitalist commands a larger amount
of labour with the same amount of capital. The power of the capitalist class
over the labouring class is increased; the social position of the labourer has
deteriorated, and is depressed another degree below that of the capitalist.
What then is the general law which determines the rise and fall of wages and
profit in their reciprocal relation ?
They stand in inverse proportion to one another. Capital's exchange-value,
profit, rises in the same proportion in which the exchange-value of labour, wages,
sinks; and conversely. The rise in profit is exactly measured by the fall in
wages, and the fall in profit by the rise in wages.
The objection may perhaps be made that the capitalist may have gained a
profit by advantageous exchange of his products with other capitalists, or by a
rise in the demand for his goods, whether in consequence of the opening of new
markets, or of a greater demand in the old markets; that the profit of the capi
talist may thus increase by means of over-reaching another capitalist, indepen
dently of the rise and fall of wages and the exchange-value of labour ; or that rhe
profit of the capitalist may also rise through an improvement in the implements
of labour, a new application of natural forces, and so on.
But it must nevertheless be admitted that the result remains the same,
although it is brought about in a different way. The capitalist has acquired a
�11
larger amount of exchange-value with the same amount of labour, without having
had to pay a higher price for the labour on that account; that is to say, a lower
price has been paid for the labour in proportion to the nett profit which it yields
to the capitalist.
Besides we must remember that in spite of the fluctuations in the price of com
modities, the average price of each commodity—the proportion in. which it
exchanges for other commodities—is determined by its cost of production. The
over-reaching and tricks that go on within the capitalist class therefore neces
sarily cancel one another. Improvements in machinery, and new applications of
natural forces to the service of production, enable them to turn out in a given
time with the same amount of labour and capital a larger quantity of products,
but by no means a larger quantity of exchange-value. If by the application of
the spinning-jenny I han turn out twice as much thread in an hour as I could
before its invention, for instance, a hundred pounds instead of fifty, that is
because the cost of production has been halved, or because at the same cost I
can turn out double the amount of products.
Finally in whatsoever proportion the capitalist classes—the bourgeoisie—
whether of one country or of the market of the whole world—-share among them
selves the nett profits of production, the total amount of these nett profits always
consists merely of the amount by which, taking all in all, direct labour has been
increased by means of stored-up labour. This sum total increases, therefore, in
the proportion in which labour augments capital; that is, in the proportion in
which profit rises as compared with wages.
Thus we see that even if we confine ourselves to the relation between capital
and wage-labour, the interests of capital are in direct antagonism to the interests
of wage-labour.
A rapid increase of capital is equal to a rapid increase of profits. Profits
can only make a rapid increase, if the exchange-value of labour—the relative
wage—makes an equally rapid decline. The relative wage may decline, although
the actual wage rises along with the nominal wage, or money price of labour; if
only it does not rise in the same proportion as profit. For instance, if when trade
is good, wages rise five per cent., and profits on the other hand thirty per cent.,
then the proportional or relative wage has not increased but declined.
Thus if the receipts of the labourer increase with the rapid advance of
capital, yet at the same time there is a widening of the social gulf which separates
the labourer from the capitalist, and also an increase in the power of capital
over labour and in the dependence of labour upon capital.
The meaning of the statement that the labourer has an interest in the rapid
increase of capital is merely this; the faster the labourer increases his master s
dominion, the richer will be the crumbs that he will get from his table; and the
greater the number of labourers that can be employed and called into existence,
the greater will be the number of slaves of which capital will be the owner.
We have thus seen that even the most fortunate event for the working class,
the speediest possible increase of capital, however much it may improve the
material condition of the labourer, cannot abolish the opposition between his
interests and those of the bourgeois or capitalist class. Profit and wages remain
just as much as ever in inverse proportion.
When capital is increasing fast, wages may rise, but the profits of capita
will rise much faster. The actual position of the labourer has improved, but. it
is at the expense of his social position. The social gulf which separates him
from the capitalist has widened.
Finally, the meaning of fortunate conditions for wage-labour, and of the
quickest possible increase of productive capital, is merely this; the faster the
working classes enlarge and extend the hostile power that dominates over them,
the better will be the conditions under which they will be allowed to labour for
the further increase of bourgeois dominion and for the wider extension of the
power of capital, and thus contentedly to forge for themselves the golden chains
by which the bourgeois drags them in its train.
But are the increase of productive capital and the rise of wages so indis
solubly connected as the bourgeois economists assert? We can hardly believe
that the fatter capital becomes, the more will its slave be pampered. The
bourgeoisie is too much enlightened, and keeps its accounts much too carefully,
to care for that privilege of the feudal nobility, the ostentation of splendour in
its retinue. The very conditions of bourgeois existence compel it to keep careful
accounts.
We must therefore enquire more closely into the effect which the increase
of productive capital has upon wages.
�12
With the general increase of the productive capital of a bourgeois society a
manifold accumulation of labour-force takes place. The capitalists increase in
number and in power. The increase in the number of capitalists increases the
competition between capitalists. Their increased power gives them the means
of leading into the industrial battle-field mightier armies of labourers furnished
with gigantic implements of war.
The one capitalist can only succeed in driving the other off the field and
taking possession of his capital by selling his wares at a cheaper rate. In order
to sell more cheaply without ruining himself, he must produce more cheaply, that
is, he must heighten as much as possible the productiveness of labour, But the
most effective way of making labour more productive is by means of a more
complete division of labour, or by the more extended use and continual improve
ment of machinery. The more numerous the departments into which labour is
divided, and the more gigantic the scale in which machinery is introduced, in so
much the greater proportion does the cost of production decline, and so much
the more fruitful is the labour. Thus arises a manifold rivalry among capitalists
with the object of increasing the subdivision of labour and machinery, and
keeping up the utmost possible progressive rate of exploitation.
Now if by means of a greater subdivision of labour, by the employment and
improvement of new machines, or by the more skilful and profitable use of the
forces of nature, a capitalist has discovered the means of producing a larger
amount of commodities than his competitors with the same amount of labour ;
whether it be stored-up labour or direct—if he can, for instance, spin a com
plete yard of cotton in the same time that his competitors take to spin half-ayard—how will this capitalist proceed to act ?
He might go on selling half-a-yard at its former market price.; but that
would not have the effect of driving his opponents out.of the field and increasing
his own sale. But the need of increasing his sale has increased in the same pro
portion as his production. The more effective and more expensive means of pro
duction which he has called into existence enable him, of course, to sell his wares
cheaper, but they also compel him to sell more wares and to secure a much
larger market for them. Our capitalist will therefore proceed to sell his half-ayard of cotton cheaper than his competitors.
The capitalist will not, however, sell his complete yard so cheaply as his
competitors sell the half, although its entire production does not cost him more
than the production of half costs the others. For in that case he would gain
nothing, but would only get back the cost of its productioa. The contingent
increase in his receipts would result from his having set in motion a larger
capital, but not from having made his capital more profitable than that of the
others. Besides he gains the end he is aiming at, if he prices his goods a slight
percentage lower than his competitors. He drives them off the field, and wrests
from them at any rate a portion of their sale, if only he undersells them. And
finally we must remember that the price current always stands either above or
below the cost of production, according as the sale of a commodity is transacted
at a favourable or unfavourable period of business. According as the.market
price of a yard of cloth is above or below its former cost of production, the
percentage will alter in which the capitalist who has employed the new and
profitable means of production exceeds in its sale the actual cost of its production
to him.
.
. .
But our capitalist does not find his privilege very lasting. Other rival
capitalists introduce with more or less rapidity the same machines and the same
subdivision of labour; and this introduction becomes general, until the price of
the yard of cloth is reduced not only below its old, but below its new cost of
production.
. .
.
,
Thus the capitalists find themselves relatively m the same position in which
they stood before the introduction, of the new means of production ; and if they
are by these means enabled to offer twice the product for the same price, they
now find themselves compelled to offer the doubled amount for less than the old
price. From the standpoint of these new means of production the old game
begins anew There is greater subdivision of labour, more machinery, and a
more rapid progress in the exploitation of both. Whereupon competition brings
about the same reaction against this result.
.
Thus we see how the manner and means of production are . continually
renewed and revolutionised ; and how the division of labour necessarily brings in
its train a greater division of labour ; the introduction of machinery, a still larger
introduction; and the rapidity of progress in the efficiency of labour, a still
greater rapidity of progress.
�I3
'Khat is the law which continually drives bourgeois paaduction out of its old
track, and compels capital to intensify the productive powers of labour for the
very reason that it has already intensified them—the law that allows it no rest,
but for ever whispers in its ear the words, “ Quick March ! ”
This is no other law than that which, cancelling the priodical fluctuations of
business, necessarily identifies the price of a commodity with its cost of pro
duction.
However powerful are the means of production which a particular capitalist
may bring into the field, competition will make their adoption general; and the
moment it becomes general, the sole result of the greater fruitfulness of his
capital is that he must now for the same price offer ten, twenty, a hundred times
as much as before. But as he must dispose of perhaps a thousand times as
much, in order to outweigh the decrease in the selling price by the larger pro
portion of products sold; since a larger sale has now become necessary, not
only to gain a large profit, but also to replace the cost of production ; and the
implements of production, as we have seen get more expensive ; and since this
larger sale has become a vital question, not only for him, but also for his rivals,
the old strife continues with all the greater violence, in proportion as the pre
viously discovered means of production are more fruitful. Thus the subdivision
of labour and the employment of new machinery, take a fresh start, and proceed
with still greater rapidity.
And thus, whatever be the power of the means or production employed,
competition does its best to rob capital of the golden fruit which it produces, by
reducing the price of commodities to their cost of production ; and as fast as
their production is cheapened, compelling by a despotic law the larger supply of
cheaper products to be offered at the former price. Thus the capitalist will have
won nothing by his exertions beyond the obligation to produce faster than before,
and an enhancement of the difficulty of employing his capital to advantage.
While competition continually persecutes him with its law of the cost of pro
duction, and turns against himself every weapon which he forges against his
rivals, the capitalist continually tries, to cheat competition by incessantly intro
ducing further division of labour, and replacing the old machines by new ones,
which, though more expensive, produce more cheaply ; instead of waiting till
competition has rendered them obsolete.
Let us now look at this feverish agitation as it affects the market of the whole
world, and we shall understand how the increase, accumulation, and concentra
tion of capital bring in their train an uninterrupted and extreme subdivision of
labour, always advancing with gigantic strides of progress, and a continual em
ployment of new machinery together with improvement of the old.
But how do these circumstances, inseparable as they are from the increase
of productive capital, affect the determination of the amount of wages ?
The greater division of labour enables one labourer to do the work of five,
ten, twenty : it therefore multiplies the competition among labourers five, ten or
twenty times. The labourers do not only compete when one sells himself
cheaper than another ; they also compete when one does the work of five, ten, or
twenty ; and the division of labour which capital introduces and continually in
creases, compels the labourers to enter into this kind of competition with one
another.
.
.
. .
Further \ in the same proportion in which the division of labour is increased)
the labour itself is simplified. The special skill of the labourer becomes worthless.
It is changed into a monotonous and uniform power production, which can give
play neither to bodily nor to intellectual elasticity. Its labour becomes acccessible
to everybody. Competitors therefore throng into it from all sides; and besides
we must remember that the more simple and easily learnt the labour is, and the
less it costs a man to make himself master of it, so much the lower must its
wages sink ; since they are determined, like the price of every other commodity,
by its cost of production.
Therefore exactly as the labour becomes more unsatisfactory and unpleasant,,
in that verv proportion competition iucreases and wages decline. The labourer
does his best to maintain the rate of his wages by performing more labour,
whether by working for a greater number of hours, or by working harder in the
same-time. Thus, driven by necessity, he himself increases the evil ot the
subdivision of labour. So the result is this : the more he labours, the less reward
he receives for it; and that for this simple reason—that he competes against his.
fellow-workmen, and thus compels them to compete against him, and to offer
their labour on as wretched conditions as he does; and that he thus in the last
result competes against himself as a member of the working class.
�*4
Machinery has th^same effect, but in a much greater degree. It supplants
skilled labourers by unskilled, men by women, adults by children ; where it is
newly introduced, it throws the hand-labourers upon the streets in crowds ; and
where it is perfected or replaced by later improvements and more inventions, dis
cards them by slightly slower degrees. We have sketched above in hasty outlines
the industrial war of capitalists with one another; and this war has this pecu
liarity, that its battles are won less by means of enlisting than of discharging its
industrial recruits, The generals or capitalists vie with one another as to who can dis
pense with the greatest number of his soldiers.
The economists repeatedly assure us that the labourers who are rendered
superfluous by the machines find new branches of employment.
They have not the hardihood directly to assert that the labourers who are
discharged enter upon the new branches of labour. The facts cry out too loud
against such a lie as this. They only declare that for other divisions of the
labouring class, as for instance, for the rising generation of labourers who were
just ready to enter upon the defunct branch of industry, new means of employ
ment will open out. Of course that is a great satisfaction for the dismissed
labourers. The worshipful capitalists will not find their fresh supply of exploit
able flesh and blood run short, and will let the dead bury their dead. This is
indeed a consolation with which the bourgeois comfort themselves rather than the
labourers. If the whole class of wage-labourers were annihilated by the
machines, how shocking that would be for capital, which without wage-labour
ceases to act as capital at all.
But let us suppose that those who are directly driven out of their employment
by machinery, and also all those of the rising generation who were expecting
employment in the same line, find some new employment. Does any one imagine
that this will be as highly paid as that which they have lost ? Such an idea would
be in direct contradiction to all the laws of economy. We have already seen that
the modern form of industry always tends to the displacement of the more complex
and the higher kinds of employment, by those which are more simple and
subordinate.
How then could a crowd of labourers, who are thrown out of one branch of
industry by machinery, find refuge in another, without having to content them
selves with a lower position and worse pay ?
The labourers who are employed in the manufacture of machinery itself have
been instanced as an exception. As soon as a desire arises and a demand begins
in an industry for more machinery, it is said that there must necessarily be an
increase in the number of machines, and therefore in the manufacture of machines,
and therefore in the employment of labourers in this manufacture; and the
labourers who are employed in this branch of industry will be skilled, and indeed
even educated labourers.
Ever since the year 1840 this contention, which even before that time was
only half true, has lost all its specious colour. For the machines which are em
ployed in the manufacture of machinery have been quite as numerous as those
used in the manufacture of cotton ; and the labourers who are employed in pro
ducing machines, instead of being highly educated, have only been able toplay
the part of utterly unskilled machines themselves.
But in the place of the man who has been dismissed by the machine perhaps
three children and one woman are employed to work it, And was it not neces
sary before that the man’s wages should suffice for the support of his wife and
his children ? Was not the minimum of wages necessarily sufficient for the
maintenance and propagation of the race of labourers ? There is no difference,
except that now the lives of four times as many labourers as before are used up in
order to secure the support of one labourer’s family.
To repeat our deductions; the faster productive capital increases, the more
does the division of labour and the employment of machinery extend. The more
the division of labour and the employment of machinery extend, so much the
more does competition increase among the labourers, and so much the more do
their average wages dwindle.
And, besides, the labouring class is recruited from the higher strata of
society ; or else there falls headlong into it a crowd of small manufacturers and
small proprietors, who thenceforth have nothing better to do than to stretch out
their arms by the side of those of the labourers. And thus the forest of arms
outstretched by those who are entreating for work becomes ever denser and the
arms themselves grow ever leaner.
That the small manufacturer cannot survive in a contest, whose first condi
tion is production on a continually increasing scale, that is, that he cannot be at
once both a large and a small manufacturer, is self-evident.
�*
That the interest on capital declines in the same promotion as the amount
of capital increases and extends, and that therefore the small capitalist can no
longer live on bis interest, but must join th# ranks of the workers andjincrease
the number oftfce proletariat,—all this requires no further exemplificatlpn.
Finally, in the projWtion in which the capitalists are compelledby the causes
here sketched out to exploit on an even increasing scale yet more giga^ftic
means of production, and with that object to set in motion all the iMfrisprin^s
of credit, in the same proportion is there an increase of those earthquakes
wherein the business world can only secure its own existence by the sajMyficaof ap
portion of its wealth, its products, and even its powers of production to the gods
of the world below—in a word, crises increase. They become at once more
frequent and more violent; because in the same proportion in which the amount
of production, and therefore the demand for an extension of the market, increases,
the market of the world continually contracts, and ever fewer markets remain to
be exploited; since every previous crisis has added to the commerce of the world
a market which was not known before, or had before been only superficially ex
ploited by commerce. But capital not only lives upon labour. Like a lord, at
once distinguished and barbarous, it drags with it to the grave the corpses of its
slaves and whole hecatombs of labourers who perish in the crisis. Thus we see
that if capital increases fast, competition among the labourers increases still
faster, that is, the means of employment and subsistence decline in proportion at
a Stillmore rapid rate; and yet, none the less the most fortunate conditions for
wage labour lie in the speedy increase of capital
All who are interested, in these sub
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�*
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11
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�
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Wage-labour and capital
Description
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Edition: New and cheaper ed.
Place of publication: London
Collation: 15, [1] p. ; 23 cm.
Notes: Information on the Social-Democratic Federation on p. [2]. Publisher's list on p. 15 and unnumbered page at the end.
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Marx, Karl [1818-1883]
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The Modern Press
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1886
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G2454
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Joynes, J.L. (James Leigh) (tr)
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Socialism
Labour
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English
Capitalism
Karl Marx
Marxian Economics
Marxism
Wages
Working Classes